#also I really I hate the lady of pain lol

[pikablob]

Fandom questions: B & P

B - A pairing you initially didn’t consider but someone changed your mind

I've seen a lot of good Preston/Nikki art for Camp Camp lately, so that - also Gerda/Johanna happened entirely because of a random comment @discoursed-dracula made to me once XDD

P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas)

I'm currently daydreaming about a rework of Magic the Gathering, of all things, called When The World Went Thin. The basic premise is that, instead of just a small, specific club of people being able to planeswalk, random portals between planes are common, but tend to be unstable and only open for a very short time. The result is planar travel is a bit more common, and the Gatewatch is very different also Ravnica is basically Sigil from Planescape, but better in every way because there's no Lady of Pain or alignment-based stuff to ruin everything

[earlysunshines]

punches to the heart

pham hanni x fem!reader ; angst, fluff

synopsis: hanni watches you beat up her friend, you two get off on the wrong foot, and it's safe to say hanni basically hates you -- the feeling is mutual. what makes it worse is the fact that you two are bound to run into each other time and time again.

warnings: boxer!reader ; hanni is a nursing student who’s fighting lowk (kinda) ; blood ; violence ; pining ; reader is pretty traumatized ummm ; #enemies to lovers (sorta) ; alcohol ; making out ; anything else not mentioned ; not proofread

a/n: ummm I don’t really box lmfao or at least I haven’t done it professionally soooo sorry to any boxers reading this bc there might be mistakes or incorrect terms idk anyways ENJOY!! ^_^ also ignore the fact that yn works at a restaurant in this too LOL half of this fic was from MONTHS ago but i never continued it...

you’re freshly thirteen, your knees still sting and blood continues to flow out of the scrapes from being pushed onto the ground by two prepubescent boys earlier in the day, but you dab at it a couple of times with spare napkins in your bag to prevent any more crimson liquid from seeping out.

the door opens and you find your grandma knitting something on the couch, she’s also watching something on the tv. the quality of the video playing on the screen is pretty rough, but you can make out a familiar face: your late grandpa. grandpa was grandma’s everything and from what you’ve heard: he’s a sweet, memorable soul. a smile spreads across your face as you watch your grandma continue to knit. a few seconds later you’re trying to sneakily run to the bathroom to clean up the mess on your legs.

“y/n? is that you?” she calls out softly, turning in your direction. usually, she’d be at the little bakery she worked at, but she wasn’t, so you assumed she had worked the morning and lunch shifts. she looks down at your red knees and her eyes widen. “oh! sweetheart, what happened?” 

she drops whatever she’d been knitting down on the cushion and rushes over to you, cupping your face and then kneeling to meet your injuries. her eyebrows crease and she frowns, worry is painted all over her face.

“i bumped into someone and tripped on the curb.” you lie, knowing you had heard snarky remarks in between voice cracks from some idiots beforehand.

“what did i say about lying?” your grandma sighs, rubbing the area around one of the scrapes and sighing. “did those boys give you a hard time again?”

“i—” you start, but she looks at you and raises her brows, making your second lie die in your throat immediately. you gulp and avoid eye contact. “well i got pushed and i’m not lying about tripping on the curb. i got unlucky.”

grandma clicks her tongue twice and shakes her head, then grabs your hand and leads you to the small bathroom of your little apartment. 

she closes the lid of the toilet and urges you to sit down on it. while you situate yourself, she finds a little first-aid kit in the cabinet and a few sanitizing wipes. you gulp, already uneasy about the pain that you’ll feel in the next minute.

your grandma chuckles in that raspy, cliché old lady tone when she sees your clenched jaw and fingers digging in your knee anxiously. she sighs and kneels down to meet your level, then says, “it’ll hurt a little, be strong for me.” 

“i’m not scared.”

“sure you’re not hon. it’s going to sting a lot, but it’ll pass by in no time, ‘kay?” she says, taking out an alcohol wipe and holding it above the scrape on your left knee. she holds your right hand and smiles sweetly—it calms you down in no time. “i’m going to clean it, be strong.” she says, then begins to wipe away the bacteria from the wound.

you close your eyes tightly at the stinging sensation, it hurts a lot and tears well up despite your eyes being shut. grandma squeezes your hand tightly then throws the wipe away.

“there you go, one knee done.” she says, “you’re strong like your grandpa, you know?”

your brows relax and you look at her, tilting your head. “i—, i am?”

“he boxed until he was 42, you were around the age of 4 then.” she explains, smiling as she reminisces. she grabs another wipe and tightens her grip on your hand again before you feel that same pain again, and continues, “he had a lot of injuries like these ones. i took care of him like this.”

through clenched teeth you respond, “he got hurt worse than this?”

“five times worse.” grandma shivers, “blood from his lips, mostly bruises on him though. i stitched him up once and i almost threw up.” she says, cringing when she recalls this memory. “he got cut up a couple of times and complained and groaned much more than you, actually. he got in a lot of fights, but he promised that he’d get into fewer fights when we had to take care of you.”

“oh, were you okay with taking care of him so much? it must’ve been tiring to always do that for him.”

grandma’s expression softens and she smiles. “when you love someone, taking care of them is never a problem. i love you y/n, and your grandpa; taking care of you two is nothing of a problem. maybe it’s rotten work for some people, but for the people i love? never.”

her sweet smile makes your own lips curl up and she pats your leg softly before finding bandages. as she patches you up, her words linger in your mind and heart.

“you know y/n, i won’t be here forever.” she starts, standing back up to put the kit away. “when you grow older i want you to find someone who will take care of you like that, and it’s your job to take care of them too.”

“i can take care of you when i’m older.” you say it like a promise and she shakes her head.

“i don’t want you to worry about my old soul for the majority of your life. i’m talking about a friend, or maybe more. whoever it is, care for them endlessly.”

you nod. 

she smiles once more and chuckles, “come on, let’s go watch one of your grandpa’s fights—i was watching some of it before you got here.”

you follow her out the bathroom and turn off the light, then you two head back to the living room. she sits down on the couch and urges you to squeeze in with her as she picks up her needles and yarn. you sit beside her and she presses a button on the remote, which starts the video back up again.

as you watch, you recognize the familiar figure on the screen jump around on his feet. he holds his arms up and clenches his fists in the boxing gloves, shooting the opponent a nasty glare through the small space in between.

“your grandpa was a great boxer, he spent a lot of time devoted to the sport.” grandma explains.

you hum and ask, “why did he box? doesn’t it hurt?”

“well, he did it to protect himself and make some money for us back when times were rougher, way before you were born. he was passionate about it.”

“that’s cool.” you say in awe. your grandma laughs softly before starting to knit again.

you watch your grandpa dodge a few punches and a swing from the side quickly, he’s fast and your 13-year-old mind is absolutely bewildered by his athletic ability. the opponent throws another punch, which he dodges, then sends a nasty hit to the side of the other boxer’s torso. the opponent stumbles back and falls to his knees, then bends down while he tries to recover. it takes a bit for the other guy to get up, and when he does get up—he stumbles back down.

“i want to be like grandpa, can i learn to box?”

your grandma laughs and grins at you. “you know what—sure y/n, you’re a lot like him after all. besides, you need to defend yourself from whoever pushed you.”

“oh yeah, i punched him in the face.”

“you what?” your grandma asks, shocked by your reply. you shrug and keep your eyes on the screen: your grandpa had won after a hit to the guy's cheek, and now the camera is on his sweaty, smiling self. 

“he pushed me and i punched him, but that’s because he said something really bad…”

“y/n,” grandma starts, but stops after she takes another good look at you and her late lover on the screen. a small breath leaves her lips, then she shakes her head. “you two are practically the same, huh.”

the rest of the night your grandma shares anecdotes of her time with your grandpa, it ranges from a variety of silly stories: your grandpa’s first fight, how they fell in love (and this story elicited a slight face of disgust from you, a playful one of course. you couldn’t deny that it was cute, but you were also 13 and icky about a lot of romantic things), grandpa’s fights out of the ring, and their most memorable moments with you. 

you find out that a lot of your traits are rooted from your grandpa, you were pretty satisfied with that.

-

years pass, you’re not stuck in that shithole called middle school; instead, you’re a junior in high school—still in a shithole, but a little better—yuck.

you’re already pretty sick of high school, freshman year wasn’t the best for you after realizing you liked girls; well, it was alright until your first heartbreak or whatever. 

it was cliché: you made a good friend, she was sweet and friendly, and then you realized that your heartbeat would pace at an unhealthy speed around her. the two of you get into a relationship and it eventually fails, your heart breaks and blah blah blah it’s a universal experience. you managed to get over this heartbreak after a year. besides, you can’t be stuck on one failed relationship for the entirety of high school, that’s a fool’s biggest mistake. 

and you’re not a fool.

grandma get’s sick sophomore year, and grandma is all that you have. it was an unexpected turn, resulting in one of the worst years of your life.

the doctors said it had something to do with her heart, some type of cardiovascular disease that costs a bit to treat. so, as soon as you turned 15, you found yourself a part-time job at a local restaurant to pay for her medicines and treatment while she tried her best to provide you with a stable foundation for the future, or at least some food, a house, and water. grandma had argued that she didn’t need your help, she scolded you and tried to keep you focused on your studies, but you wouldn’t budge; if anything, you argued back.

twenty-four hours in a day, and yet it wasn’t enough time to do everything you needed without sacrificing some of your sanity.

six of those hours were spent sleeping, seven hours were spent in school, eight hours at work right after, and then a few hours to care for grandma—and do a little bit of boxing; nothing got in the way of your passion, especially if that passion kept your grandpa alive. 

ever since that little moment with grandma and her cleaning up your knees, your interest in your grandpa and boxing piqued; you started to push yourself physically after hearing about the contests and tournaments, ones that had prizes worth more than one shift of working.

 it was difficult – boxing, working, going to school – with grandma’s illness, but your passion was just as great as your grandpa’s and the more you developed to become more like him: the more grandma would smile. that was the product you yearned for, and all your devotion (plus your similar features) only made the image of your grandpa increasingly prominent when she looked at you.

boxing made the thought of her illness easier to bear, and that didn’t cost anything, instead it filled your pockets. so, you kept on going, replicating the moves in the old films of your grandpa, winning junior boxing matches and placing the films your grandma recorded next to the ones of your grandpa. 

even when you didn’t win matches, the tapes of you boxing were placed next to your grandpa’s. that was arguably ten times better than a trophy.

it was enough to ease the strain in grandma’s body, and that made you happy too.

--

a year passes and you’re still a part-time amateur cook at some local restaurant. you still smell like sauteed onions and garlic when you reach the door to the apartment and try to blindly reach for the keys to your home; it’s a bit late, you’re tired, and you want to shower then pass out as soon as you can.

the late evening moon cast a soft glow through the windows near the stairwell, creating a quiet atmosphere. you step inside and the air is filled with the comforting scent of vanilla, a lingering trace of grandma’s signature cookies—she must’ve known you’ve been craving something sweet lately.

the only sound that fills the quiet evening is the faint ticking of the clock reverberates throughout the apartment, and then it’s the sound of the door creaking as you close it. 

“i’m home," you called out, a habitual greeting as you kicked off your shoes. usually, you’d get a response—it was half past seven and typically, grandma would still be awake to greet you warmly—but silence lingered, only broken by the distant hum of the refrigerator.

worry pricked at your consciousness as you ventured further into the house. the hallway leading to the bedroom seemed unusually hushed. the gentle rustling of your grandma’s usual activities was conspicuously absent, she wasn’t even knitting in the living room while watching tv like she usually did. it was odd.

turning the corner into the bedroom, a gasp escaped your lips. you dropped your work bag and stood frozen in place, feeling your heart rate spike. there, lying on the carpet, was your grandma, and her face now bore the lines of pain. panic surged through your veins as you rushed to her side.

"grandma, what happened?" your voice trembled as you gently shook her shoulders, desperately hoping for a response.

grandma’s eyes were closed, her breathing erratic. the room seemed to close in on you as you fumbled for your phone, dialing 911 with trembling hands. the operator's calm instructions cut through the air as you listened intently, trying to focus on each word and compose yourself.

frantically, you performed cpr, guided by the dispatcher's voice, but the seconds felt like an eternity. the room blurred as tears welled in her eyes, mixing with the fear that gripped her heart. the paramedics were on their way, but time was slipping away. this could not be happening—not now, not here, not ever.

“please, god, please no. please stay with me, not you too.” you beg, feeling your face dampen.

as you continued the compressions, a heaviness settled in the room. the once warm and inviting space now felt suffocating. in those agonizing moments, your grandma’s fragile grip on life slipped away. it was clear that she was gone, and there was nothing you could do to help her this time.

--

there’s enough money for you to live in that apartment alone for two months. the first week was spent with you sleeping in, missing school, and staring into the ceiling blankly.

you haven’t gotten up in hours, you could hardly take care of yourself after grandma’s passing. 

after a few hours of simply laying down and feeling too much, yet nothing at all; you flip over on your side and catch sight of the framed picture of you and your grandma. your brows turn up slightly as you stare back at the picture. you turn to lay on your back again, closing your eyes and groaning. your heart aches, it’s all too much for you.

the sound of knocking elicits an exhausted sigh from you, and it takes you a moment to get up for the first time in hours. you trudge out of the bedroom and groan when a sudden headache hits you, it almost makes you stumble. the sight of the kitchen and untouched living room makes your shoulders sink, it looks the same as that life-changing night.

you unlock the door and twist the knob to open it; a taller man stands in front and looks up at you with a sincere smile. 

“ah, y/n, am i correct?” he questions. a smile pulls at his lips, his eyes soften upon observing you. “you’ve grown, you have your grandpa’s eyes.”

his voice is soft, you can tell he’s a well-spoken, dignified man just from the way he articulates his words. he's quite fit looking for his age, he seems about how old your grandpa would’ve been if he was still alive; a man with noticeable smile lines and hands that seemed to have experienced decades.

you try to respond and realize that it’s been a week since you’ve uttered something that wasn’t a cry. you resort to nodding; he seems to understand.

he smiles and scans you; it seems that he doesn’t care about your appearance or state at all. 

“my name is michael, i was a friend of your grandparents. i’m sorry for your loss.”

you stay silent, unable to speak. 

“i’m here because your grandma asked for a favor, a big one and it includes you.” he begins, “she knew her condition was getting worse and asked me to come here to talk to you.”

“what?” you croak, now curious of just who exactly this man is and his connections with not just your grandma, but also your grandpa. “you knew?” your voice cracks, your heart breaks.

“i can’t turn down a favor like this, not if your grandma is asking either.” he says, pursing his lips. his eyes scan the room, then they start to well up with water. “she wanted me to take you in and take care of you if anything happened to her, of course i’m willing to do that for her—you’re her family after all, and i owe a lot to the l/n’s. i didn’t know her time would come so soon.”

“what? who, who are you exactly? my grandma told you about her condition? what— how—”

“i was close with your grandparents. i’m someone who owes them everything.”

-

you move in with michael not so long after your first meeting, he warms up to you easily after spilling some anecdotes that threatened your last tears to spill.

it takes a while to grow accustomed to him, you’ve only ever been used to talking to your grandma freely.

michael is a man in his early 50s, younger than your grandparents. he’s a sweet, soft-spoken man that treated you like his own as soon as the two of you met. you learn that he boxed with your grandpa; michael learned everything from your grandpa and explains that your grandpa is the reason he can live normally now. 

something in the way that he talks about your grandparents and the way he looks at you explains a lot, you don’t know exactly what your grandparents did, but it seems like they were his biggest miracle.

he smiles at you when you settle in his house, then goes on to tell you that you remind him of your old man. michael is a generous guy, and though everything happened so fast—recovering from grandma’s death, moving in with this man you’ve never heard of, learning more about your grandparent’s relations, and too much more—you seem to ease into this new lifestyle.

what else could you do anyway?

the new home you’re in isn’t small; if anything, it’s actually quite large and spacious. his home is hours away from where grandma was and it was hard leaving everything behind, but with your situation, the most you could feel is grateful for having a place and person to stay with, and a way to keep you from drowning in misery.

it was also evident that there used to be someone who lived with him, a lover of some sort. the pictures on the wall give you a sense of how he was like when whoever that woman was accompanying him was around; he was a lively, beaming man back then. now, he’s a bit more mellow, but there’s still that slight charm.

-

michael offers you a job at his little restaurant that he manages—which you accept immediately, you owe him some labor, and honestly everything after what he’s done for you—everything goes well. 

he goes easy on you because of your recent loss, but still, he treats you like you’re his own. michael is quick to correct you, strict when he needs to be, and someone to rely on.

he’s impressed with your skills in the kitchen, enamored by how quick you are to learn recipes and cook them up. your bond grows quickly and easily, it helps you get over the loss.

when he finds you watching your grandpa’s old boxing matches on the couch a month after moving in, he decides to bring you to his little garage. he unveils the trophies that he’s collected over years of boxing and decides to give you a picture of him and your grandpa posing together. in the picture, they’re all sweaty and smiley, beaming so brightly that their teeth almost reflect the light. he insists that “you deserve it more, i never had a place to keep this anyway,” with a small smile that conceals his sorrow, then hands you the 8x6 photo.

you tell him about your background in boxing, your matches, wins, favorite moves, and that you used to teach yourself how to box because of grandpa.

he simply smiles, muttering something that sounds like a “you’re just like him.”

you learn how to box again for the first time in a while on some friday night. this time you really learn, it’s not from copying your old man’s combos on a screen; instead, it’s one-on-one lessons with his old friend. 

he teaches you a lot, beats you down and makes you get back up. despite getting knocked down, thrown around, and given harsh constructive criticism—you get up and try again, again, and again. the thrill of it all surges through your body again, giving you that adrenaline rush and burst of joy that you’ve been missing for a bit.

one month passes, then another, and now you’re learning how to box every weekend – sometimes on weekdays – running miles after school, pushing yourself all the time, and winning—growing. 

he teaches you his favorites combos, then your grandpa’s favorite ones that got him on one knee each time they sparred. you learn all the time, learn whenever you can despite the slight ache in your body and it’s always michael forcing you to take it easy to get rid of that slight pain. 

boxing takes over your mind and you’re set with cooking as your main job, so school was something you weren’t really set on, you figured that out after all your troubles. michael was okay with that—to your surprise—and you decided to devote your time into training and doing your best at the little restaurant you worked at.

time passes and you decide to put yourself up to the test and sign yourself up for matches. at first, they’re just for experience, and then you’re pushing yourself to win these triple digit checks—which you win proudly after making your way up the bracket and succeeding. you’re proud of yourself for these accomplishments, michael is too, he says that your grandparents would be proud as well and it makes you tear up.

everything was going well, and you had michael to thank for pulling you out of the harsh waters that tried to pull you down and drown you in your misery.

--

when everyone was starting out in college, you were opening up the restaurant and getting everything ready.

you graduated with a solid gpa of 3.4. your counselors were practically up your ass because of your lack of interest in going to college. they tried to persuade you by saying that it would be great for your future, they insisted that you could take culinary classes, boxing classes, etc; despite every effort and attempt, you wouldn’t budge. 

there was always that slight uneasiness that came with deciding not to go to college, but at the same time, you were set with how everything was right now; especially after seeing the elderly regulars that always came in for breakfast. one of them patted you on the back as you hung up the “welcome” sign and greeted you with a smile, saying “it’s nice to see you again y/n, as always.” 

this type of lifestyle kept you smiling, there was not much to complain about other than the rare rude customer that would pass by here and there. you were content to say the least.

-

a few months before you turn nineteen, you decide to move out because there’s a small feeling that you may be a slight burden to michael, plus, the area is not bad and the rent is cheap. he assures that you can stay for however long, but you assure that you can hold up on your own. 

the place you decide to settle in is a thirteen-minute run from michaels place and a ten-minute walk from the restaurant you work at. robert says he’s proud that you’ve grown to be independent and strong.

(you laugh because you’ve simply moved out and decided to live on your own. plus, you live near him and work most of your shifts with him too, but you let him hug you dearly). 

you stay in a single-bedroom apartment that has a nice, small kitchen area littered with trinkets you’ve collected and small plants here and there. the living room is homey and has a single couch with a small coffee table in it that you gives you a view of the small market that goes on every sunday in the distance. you love the place. 

it gets lonely some nights, coming home to a silent house. grandma pops up in your mind and part of you (all of you) wishes that you’d come home to the smell of home cooked food and a smile that emphasizes her wrinkles. grandma hated her wrinkles, but you loved them. a few wrinkles never hurt anyone.

-

you huff, taking off the bandana on your head. “i’m clocking out, see you tomorrow.” 

“wait! michael has something for you in the back. uhh--” aki, the junior in high school that works part time, begins. you pause in your tracks, bag over your shoulder. “hold on let me--”

“c’mon, i'm running a little late for the match. i need to get checked in.” you say hurriedly, “just tell him i'll get it later--”

“no, y/n, it’s important. he said to get it to you today.”

with a deep sigh, you give in, watching him put away the plate he was washing and quikcly running to the back where the lockers are. you follow him in and watch him take out a small box with a little paper on it. it's a pretty big box, maybe bigger than a shoe box.

“here,” he says, handing it to you. “michael says good luck and to open it before your match, he knows how important this one is. three hundred is a solid prize, he says you can do it.”

you smile at aki; he smiles back before running off and back to the kitchen. the box is held with your hands, subtle blisters scratching against the cardboard before you walk over to your car. 

when you’re in the driver's seat, you decide to let the box be your little passenger and see what's inside when you reach the address of the tournament. as soon as you do, the box is in your hands again. with your keys, you cut the tape that covered the openings, then eagerly opened the box like a little kid on christmas morning.

inside, there’s brand new boxing gloves. they're white, they’re fresh, and they’re the expensive ones michael caught you eyeing.

“son of a bitch.” you mutter, shaking your head with a grin playing on your lips. 

you get out your old white mazda with a bag hung on your shoulder, new gloves inside.

there's a man at the front checking you in, his appearance slightly older with hair parted in the middle and a somewhat distraught expression on his face, almost disgust. maybe he just... looks like that. 

there's a hint of attitude in his tone when he asks, "you're here for the match?" 

“yes.”

“you’re late, you know? boxers should’ve checked in ten minutes ago, visitors--”

“i’m here now.” you say calmly, looking at him apologetically. “sorry for being late, i rushed from work. i already submitted my medical information and id online, it should be good to go, i got the email. it's l/n y/n by the way, i should be on the roster--”

he snaps his fingers at you, earning a raised brow from you. your teeth grind against each other as you clench your jaw from the sudden action.

“don’t cut me off when i'm speaking. i could have you out of the match as a whole, you know?” he scoffs, glaring at you. “you boxers are so damn impatient, and to think that you’re a woman too... i would’ve figured you had better manners.”

“i’m-- im sorry?” you’re shocked by the sudden disrespect, fighting back the urge to jab his face. “um, sorry. am i still able to check in?”

he narrows his eyes at you, sighing, but still giving you a little snarky tone even as he hands you your name tag and . “fine. go down the hall and to the left, there’s the locker rooms and whatnot. you know, you’re lucky i don’t--”

“thank you sir, have a good one.” is what you say, because you trained two months for this tournament and you can’t get disqualified now if you had let out that: “fuck you, bitch.”

you dash past him, speed walking towards the changing rooms to get yourself situated and weighed in. he almost curses at you, but you’re already too far in for him to stop you anyway.

--

you make weight, meaning you get to indulge in whatever it was that you grabbed from the convenience store.

in this case it was one protein bar – cookie dough, your favorite – some fruits, an avocado, and a few crackers. a decent amount of nutrition to keep you up on your toes for the matches.

michael's little gift to you fits snug, your hands fit perfectly in them, but you should definitely break them in before sparring—so you resort to using your usual gloves, the same ones that won you the last tournament's prize. it's fine anyway, they’re your lucky ones until you break in the new.

the first girl you take on is feisty; she’s quick on her feet and clearly has some type of anger issue from the way she curses at you quietly, sending daggers with that look of hers. it seems that you piss her off the more level you are, and honestly, it’s amusing to see her continuously jab and jab with fury until you decide to step to the side quickly and give a solid swing. 

she stumbles back, losing her composure before gritting her teeth. 

then she’s light on her feet again, you’re still playing defense, simply observing as she shifts side to side. you let her punch your forearm and send a cross before seizing the moment, stepping to the left, and quickly sending a nasty hook to her body. 

she stumbles again, coughs, and falls down on her knees.

“l/n!” the referee shouts, holding your wrist and raising your arm up.

--

you have three more matches until your final round, the one that’ll determine if you win, but you have to get through all of them first.

the second round proves to be more challenging. the woman you're up against lands a nasty cross that connects squarely with your jaw, throwing you off balance for a split second. however, with attentive focus on each of her movements, you manage to anticipate her next move and swiftly counter with a hook to her side. the blow knocks her out, mirroring the outcome of your previous match.

the third round is even more difficult. the woman you're up against this time seems relentless, unleashing jabs and crosses and jabs and crosses and jabs—wow, she won’t give you a break. you're constantly dodging, weaving side to side, but she refuses to give you a moment's respite. another blow lands on your jaw again, causing you to stumble back and exhale sharply, feeling the impact reverberate through your body.

as you try to regain your footing, she continues to press the attack, landing blows to your forearms as you desperately block, trying to find an opening to mount a counterattack. despite your best efforts, she seems to have you on the ropes, leaving you struggling to keep up with her relentless assault.

but still, as you always do, you manage to swerve and find your opening. after all that effort, she has to recover for a second. a second is more than enough time to step and switch angles, sending your infamous hook and leaving her on the ground, almost in fetal position, and groaning.

the fourth round is tough, really tough. the girl you’re up against is shorter, but wow is she bulky. 

she’s buff, biceps bigger than yours, almost as if an orange had been placed in them. her shoulders were like rocks and tensed as she put her arms up a bit. you had a decent amount of muscle, pretty nice definition and whatnot—but compared to her? it was like a shrimp and a lobster put next to each other. no way she was in your weight class, could she really be?

your arms steady as you get ready to fight, waiting for the cue and as soon as the ref gives you the green light, you’re light on your feet again. she throws a jab at you, grazing your forearm as you step back. then a cross is thrown at you, another jab, and a punch to the side that lands on your shoulder. her hits are as strong as she looks, it hurts. 

you manage to throw a jab that hits her forearms, then land an uppercut that strikes the side of her jaw. she lets out a sharp breath as soon as it hits, then curses under her breath. she looks at you with a death glare, then steps forward and to the side, managing to land a nasty hit right on your abdomen, then cheek, making you fall back against the rope.

she chuckles, making you take a deep breath. 

your feet move quick, inching in on her as you sway from side to side, giving her no room to strike at you. and then, just when you find an opening, you land a nice hook with your right—less precise and powerful, but still enough—and she falls back. 

she gets back up again—not without halting a few of her actions—then shakes her head. she throws a cross at you, which you dodge easily since her reach is on the shorter side. this gives you another opportunity to land a hit right on her jaw, and with that final move, she’s on the ground, and you win.

a smile reaches your face once the referee lifts your arm up, but there’s still that last match.

there's some time before finals, you take the time to rest a bit, chugging down a bit of water and wiping away some of the sweat on your body.

you sit down on one of the benches, leaning against the wall and recollecting yourself. the though of your grandma crosses your mind before you’re interrupted by a high pitched voice in the corner of your ear.

“yunjin! i'm so sorry i'm late, i had to finish moving in some things and--”

“it’s fine, seriously. i'm glad you made it.”

you glance over, seeing two women interact. one is obviously a boxer–one that you haven’t seen yet–probably your opponent for the final round. 

she's all sweaty, strands from her hair glued to her forehead from the sweat. she's pretty built, maybe a little smaller than you are muscle-wise, but still, the definition on her arms and abs are no joke. 

the woman next to her, dressed in a simple long-sleeve shirt and jeans, is beaming at her with a wide smile. her eyes sparkle with joy and happiness and rainbows, there’s an infectious energy that seems to radiate off of her. it's funny how bright she is; you can't help but be reminded of old videos of your grandma with grandpa, where similar warmth and happiness seemed to fill the frame.

“how many more matches do you have left? did you win any yet? gosh i missed so much, didn’t i?”

the taller one shakes her head, the boxer. “it’s fine, the rest were pretty difficult, but this is the round that should be the most important. it's the last one, i'm going up someone really good, i saw her--” she catches you from the side of your eye, which prompts you to look away and start to stand up.

the other woman, the one that looks a little like an eager bunny, looked towards where the boxer was looking. catching your last swift look over to the pair before you walk away.

now, yunjin, your last opponent, tenses her jaw.

“was that her?” yunjin’s friend asks.

“most definitely.” yunjin mumbles nervously.

--

you step into the ring, tilting your neck over to crack it just slightly.

your oppenent swings her arms slightly, dynamically stretching again to ease her nerves. you look her up and down, taking a deep breath before you step into the middle of the platform.

the two of you make eye contact, comparable to cowboys pointing pistols at each other before a duel. you look away first before the referee puts his hand in the middle, then lifts it up to cue the start of your match.

slowly circling the ring, you observe her movements. her arms react quick to how yours move, twitching and moving a bit in order to match your rhythm. she's attentive, very attentive, you can tell just by how quick she’s able to react and adjust.

you throw a cross, she backs away immediately and misses, then throws a punch right at you, hitting your forearm. a grunt is heard from you, then a sharp breath as you jab her forearm in return. 

“jen! you can do it!” the voice from earlier calls out, you can’t afford to look over, but it’s that girl. the one who had been accompanying your opponent earlier.

a small smile forms on your opponent's lips before she launches into a flurry of punches aimed directly at you. you raise your forearms in a desperate attempt to block them from reaching your face, but she manages to find an opening. stepping to the side, she delivers a rear uppercut to your jaw once again, causing a sharp surge of pain to shoot through you. it hurts even more than before, the sensation amplified by the previous blows.

you grunt out in pain, feeling the metallic tang of blood filling your mouth as you watch droplets fall onto the platform below. despite the searing pain and the mounting pressure of the match, you force yourself to regain your composure. your brows crease with determination as you shake your head, breathing in and out slowly.

now it's your turn to unleash a boatload of punches. several of them land squarely on your opponent's forearms, but you manage to find an opening and deliver a powerful blow right to her stomach, causing her to gasp out in pain. despite her reaction, you continue your assault relentlessly, delivering punch after punch to the side of her arms and the forearms covering her head. each blow is delivered with precision and determination, as you refuse to let up until the match is won.

but your opponent still perseveres, somehow finding a way to get out of the corner and land a jab right where your ribs are. she's quick, that’s for sure, always managing to find her way out of situations.

you cough out, stumbling backwards and almost falling down to your knees. she looks at you, huffing proudly as you find your balance. 

“tough,” you hear her mumble, so quiet that you almost mistook it for a whisper.

the two of you go at it again, trading blows and dodging many of them. yunjin manages to land a solid hit on the side of your arm, causing a sharp sting, but you fight back with a well-placed strike right on her tricep. despite the back and forth, the pace slows as both of you focus on dodging each other's attacks, slowing down the more fatigued you both get.

yunjin suddenly lands a powerful hit that causes your arms to push your head to the side. you watch as drops of blood litter the ground once again, but even as pain flares through you, you grunt and pull yourself together.

“c’mon yunjin!” the voice cheers again, that same voice.

just because this “yunjin” has supportive spectators, doesn’t mean you don’t have one watching from above.

the thought of your grandma urges you to act swiftly, moving so quick that you manage to fake her out and strike your signature final move.

turning to the left to regain your footing, you quickly pivot back and swing your arm with precision, landing a harsh blow on her side. the impact is so fatal that it nearly elicits a cry from her—a mix of a cough and a groan—as she staggers backward before collapsing to the ground.

despite the fatigue and pain coursing through your body, and the blood flowing down your nose and to the edge of your chin, none of it bothers you anymore; you’ve won. it’s clear.

you watch as yunjin kneels on the ground, groaning and huffing as she tries to fight back the pain. with both fists planted firmly on the ground, she uses the gloves to support herself, unable to look back up as she coughs, desperately trying to regain her composure and recover from the left hook to her side.

your eyes meet the ref’s eyes, then your brows raise to ask the question “is it over?” but you already know the answer: it is.

the referee helps yunjin up, you don’t bat an eye at her.

standing in the middle of the ring waiting for her, you make full eye contact with her little friend, a look of worry and anger plastered on the woman’s face. you feel a little bad, just a little (but not really), but it’s a competition, it’s nothing to worry about – you’ve won.

still, in that moment, you're caught off guard by how familiar this woman looks, her features bearing a slight resemblance to michael’s. but you quickly push the thought aside, it's not important. what matters is the referee raising your hand up in victory and yelling out your name.

“y/n!”

-

when yunjin gets down from the ring, a few moments after you’ve already stepped off; her friend is already by her side to make sure she’s okay.

“yunjin! oh my gosh, are you okay?”

“yes, hanni, it’s fine.” yunjin assures, clutching her right side. “hell of a hook...”

if it weren’t for those gloves of yours, yunjin would have a prominent bruise right on the skin covering her ribs. hanni frowns at her state before someone comes over to hand yunjin a towel and a water bottle. 

hanni catches you in the corner of her eye as you stand there, sweaty and looking at the ground. a towel is handed to you, and you quickly use it to wipe away the blood on your face. then you look up at the ceiling, closing your eyes as if trying to gather yourself and stem the flow of blood trickling down your face.

“do matches usually end like that?” hanni asks.

“what?”

“like that. someone's hand is raised and then they just... walk off the stage?”

yunjin thinks to herself as she chugs on water. “well, i mean, usually we exchange a few words and stuff, but i guess who i just fought is more... blunt? reserved?” yunjin shakes her head, “it's not that big of a deal, really. she's bleeding anyway, i understand.”

“that’s kind of rude, don’t you think?”

“well, it’s not like she’s actually trying to hurt me for like, terrible reasons. there's a cash prize she wants and she won it.” yunjin shrugs defeatedly.

as you sniffle slightly, you turn to the side, locking eyes with hanni. your look gives the impression of a glare; your eyes narrow, and your expression remains unyielding. it's as if you're sending arrows of scrutiny towards hanni and yunjin. hanni can't help but feel unsettled by the way you hold yourself and the implicit judgment in your gaze. she's not one to judge easily, but your demeanor leaves her feeling a bit wary and cautious.

hanni watches you walk off, wiping a small drop of blood off your jawline, rubbing it off on your towel.

yunjin looks in the same direction as hanni, muttering something under her breath.

“she’s real tough, that’s right.”

--

you walk over to the cafe nearby, you need a little treat after winning, that’s what you deserve.

walking up to the cashier, you order a slice of strawberry shortcake, one latte, and a cookie for later. it’s a quick little action, once you’re done purchasing you head out the door, hearing a little jingle. 

as you walk down the sidewalk, you check your little bag to make sure the container of your cake isn’t tilted, and in the moment, you bump into someone. the coffee in your hand slips and lands on the person in front of you.

a curse slips out your lips, some of the coffee manages to land on your shoulder and upper right side of your chest. you groan, not looking up at the person in front of you and instead crouching down to pick up the bag you’ve just dropped.

“you’re not even going to bat an eye at her?” a voice scoffs from above, you look up to spot two familiar faces: one, the last girl you had knocked out and two, her little friend. “did the win make you so dense?”

“hanni relax, it’s fine–”

“no! she barely batted an eye at you after she won! shouldn’t boxers have more sportsmanship?”

the boxer above you puts a hand on the shorter girl’s shoulder, trying to cool her down as you stand up. the girl you had beat earlier – yunjin – she looks at you and tightens her jaw, hesitating before looking away.

“i’m, i’m sorry for that, for my friend.” she apologizes. you examine her more, noticing that only a bit of coffee landed on her t-shirt and the rest had spilt on you and the ground – it wasn’t that big of a deal. “it’s a small stain, the shirt is navy. sorry for your coffee.”

before you can respond, the shorter woman looks at yunjin confusedly, then pushes her back a bit so that she’s standing closer to you. she has to look up a bit, tilting her head as she meets your unbothered gaze.

“no, yunjin, she should apologize.” the woman spits, “you bump into my friend and spill coffee on her–”

“it’s barely anything–” yunjin butts in, but her little friend puts a finger to her lips.

“you better apologize, that win didn’t make you any better than anyone you’ve beat.” 

you look the girl up and down, then at yunjin who’s looking regretful and slightly embarrassed. you fix the slice of cake in your bag, catching the shorter girl looking at you like you’re crazy, then sigh out tiredly. 

“hey, yunjin, right?”

she nods, then hums, “yeah.”

you glance back at her friend, shrinking her down with just your eyes. you catch the way her jaw tightens and the flicker of fear in her eyes.

“tame your little friend, ‘kay?” you firmly say, then brush past the two of them.

hanni cannot believe her eyes, or anything. how can someone be so arrogant? 

she watches you casually walking off with an empty coffee cup in one hand and a small plastic bag in the other; her brows crease with anger as she starts to storm towards you, hearing yunjin’s attempts at verbally stopping her fading in the back.

you feel someone tugging at your flannel from behind, gasping lowly before turning around to meet yunjin’s little friend again.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“relax.”

“apologize.” she grips your forearm, taken aback from how firm the muscles in that area are. uncertainly, she adds, “now.”

you look her up and down again, amused by the sight. some girl – who is shorter and smaller than you – is trying to hold you – the person who just knocked her friend out – back in an attempt for some stupid, haste ‘apology.’

“what are you going to do if i don’t?” you ask, partly because you’re curious and the other reason being that this is far too entertaining. “punch me? throw a hook? what are you, 5 feet tall?”

“five feet and three inches you ass!” 

“uh huh.” you sigh, shaking her hand off with your forearm. “fuck off.”

hanni watches you walk away again, before she can walk after you, yunjin grabs her and holds her back – this time with all her strength, the rest that she has left after those matches. hanni shouts at you through gritted teeth, yunjin puts a hand over her mouth and scolds her for being an idiot.

“are you crazy?”

“she’s an ass!”

“yeah but… stop making a scene! you just moved here, don’t go starting shit on your first day.”

“but she’s–”

“hanni.” yunjin turns her around and places both hands on either shoulder, looking her dead in the eye and then shaking her head tiredly. “can we just grab something to eat, i’m so fucking tired.”

yunjin’s best friend rolls her eyes before making a small “hmph” noise, crossing her arms before walking towards the cafe that you had just left.

–

hanni grabs a post fight meal with yunjin, then takes multiple photos at some random photobooth in a mall nearby, and finally gets dropped off at where she’s staying thanks to yunjin, considering the fact that hanni has nothing but a bus pass – not even a metro card.

hanni enters the house, smelling the wonderful aroma of what she believes is garlic and onion being sauteed in the kitchen. she smiles, happy that her grandpa is home and cooking up something delicious.

she kicks off her shoes, then starts to walk over to the kitchen, only to see someone turned to the stove – a tall, athletic, toned, and feminine looking back – someone that is not her grandpa. 

immediately, she gasps, then covers her mouth. she watches the figure turn, then takes her hand off her mouth to gasp again.

“what the hell are you doing in my house?”

“what the hell are you doing here?”

“this is my house?!” hanni exclaims, her voice laced with confusion and a hint of fear. technically, it isn’t really hanni’s house, but through family ties, it might as well be. “get out! are you fucking—are you stalking me? is this because of before? what, are you going to punch me or—”

her breath catches, words failing her as you step forward, closing the distance between you two. you’re in her space now, forcing her to tilt her head up slightly to meet your narrowed gaze. the intensity in your eyes makes her breath hitch again, and she’s keenly aware of how scrutinizing your stare is. she takes in your sharp, intimidating presence, noting how your eyes bore down on her from above. you’re nearly a head taller, clearly stronger, your tank top revealing the evidence of your hard work, while she’s standing there in the casual, unassuming attire of an average college student. she would be lying her ass off if she said she wasn’t scared right now.

“i’m not going to pick a fight with someone like you,” you state, looking her up and down, your tone dripping with condescension. the height difference, the bandage on your nose from the matches you won; everything about you screams physical superiorty, and hanni feels a flare of anger. but even though she’s willing to fight, you’re making it clear that you don’t see her as a threat.

“the hell does that mean you bitch?”

you move your head slight closer so you’re up in her face, letting out a small, amused chuckle. 

“watch your mouth.”

“how about you learn personal space!” hanni groans, using her hand to push your shoulder lightly as she steps back and furthers the distance between you two. “where are your manners?”

“you really wanna start something again?”

“shut the hell up, you’re the one in my place.”

“this is michael’s place.” you correct her. “you don’t look anything like him,” well, she does have his eyes and nose. “do you even know him?”

“the hell? of course i know michael, he’s my grandpa you sack of shit!” hanni scoffs, crossing her arms angrily. 

your brows furrow and you retreat back just a bit. “he’s your what?”

“my–” before hanni finishes her sentence, you two turn your heads to the sound coming from behind the stairs. both of you watch an older man appear with two bags of groceries and a surprised look on his face as soon as he spots you two. 

he looks between you both, grin growing as he approaches the two of you. “oh! i see you two have met!”

“michael, who is this?”

“grandpa, who–”

“ah, i should’ve introduced you two, or given a little heads up.”

a heads-up would’ve been great. 

you’re standing just a foot away from the girl who tried to pounce on you outside a café, the same girl who had to be restrained by her friend—the friend you knocked out cold. and now, as fate would have it, like the universe thinks you’re some type of joke, she turns out to be the granddaughter of the man who helped you get back on your feet. 

a warning would’ve been more than just great, but it’s kind of – very – late to give one.

“well, y/n, this is hanni, my granddaughter, and hanni, this is y/n. do you remember the l/n’s? she’s their granddaughter!”

hanni blinks, her jaw dropping. the l/n’s, as in the l/n’s who saved her grandpa from some gang years before she was born, the same l/n’s that let him stay at their place during his earuly adult years, the same l/n’s he would talk about like they were some type of saviors. 

the same so called ‘saviors’ who’s descendant had been a bitch at in the cafe.

“oh.” hanni says, looking back at you and tightening her jaw. “really now?” she says softly, trying to let the information sink in.

“yes! why don’t you guys introduce each other.” he suggests. you look back at hanni like he’s just told some unbelievable, sick lie. she looks at you with grossed out features, as if you had some type of disease. “come on now,” he walks over to hold both your wrists, bringing you two closer and moving your hands over so they make contact. 

hanni stares at the hands in disgust, and you mirror her.

you sigh before loosely grabbing her hand and shaking it, greeting lowly, “nice to meet you hanni.”

she grips your hand tight in an attempt to intimidate you, but it’s nothing, barely half a kilogram of force. “nice to meet you y/n.”

you squeeze her hand just barely, earning a gasp from her and barely containing a laugh, only flashing an amused smile at the now annoyed woman in front of you.

michael smiles at the two of you, clearly missing the tension and obvious rivalry in the air before saying, “glad you two are getting along. hanni here is moving in, she’s going to the university nearby.”

“is that so?” you raise a brow at hanni, she pulls her hand away and shakes it off like a virus is on her hand. 

“yeah, nursing.”

“i bet they’d love your little self there, huh?”

hanni bites her lip in an attempt to hold herself back from cursing at you. she opts for smiling at her grandpa and saying, “hey, i’m going to unpack now gramps, okay?”

“right! i forgot, you should definitely do that. hey, y/n, why don’t you help her out?”

“me?” 

“her?” hanni asks, earning another offended glare from you. “i’m fine, really.”

“no, no, your luggage is quite heavy – and a large load. go on now, you two can bond while i make dinner,” he says cheerfully, pushing you two in the direction of the stairs. “have fun!”

–

you and hanni are fighting every single demon and voice in your heads in order to not to insult each other. you stand at the entrance of the guest bedroom, looking at the three boxes on the ground in front of the empty bed. hanni sighs, starting to unzip the suitcase that she rolls from the corner.

“you a hoarder or–?”

“shut up.” hanni spits, opening her suitcase and unpacking her clothes onto the bed. “you piss me off.”

“because i spilled coffee on your friend?”

“well you were a bitch about it.”

“it wasn’t that serious, it’s never that serious.”

“you won that fuckass tournament and now you think you’re better than her–”

“i never said that–”

“shut up!” hanni groans, turning around to glare at you. you tilt your head and she groans again, “make yourself useful with you boxer muscles and move the boxes on the ground out of the way.”

“now you need my help.”

“i’ll fuck you up just you watch.”

“yeah, right.” you snicker, looking her up and down as you lean against the doorframe. “i’m terrified.”

“make yourself useful you asshole.” hanni orders, turning back to stack a pile of shorts on the bed.

you roll your eyes, sighing loudly as you walk over, bend down, and lift a box that’s a bit heavier than you’d like to admit. nonetheless, you manage to pick it up, then put it on the desk in the room.

“jesus christ,” the box lands with a little thud and you huff lightly. “you got all that anger inside you in here or…?”

hanni doesn’t respond, instead, she kicks the back of your leg with her foot. you simply laugh, making her kick you again.

“it’s your ego in there, idiot.”

“uh huh.” you click your tongue against the back of your teeth, turning back to help her out more. 

–

hanni has settled in well, though that’s unfortunately thanks to your help—help you were more or less forced to provide. moving everything in, showing her around the area, it’s all because you couldn’t say no when michael looked at you with that signature proud smile. 

the two of you exchange few words during what you loosely call a ‘tour.’ really, it’s just you walking her around the neighborhood, pointing out the nicer spots and which neighbors are the biggest complainers, before leading her to the bus stop. hanni, for her part, stays curious, her eyes roaming over anything that catches her interest, offering small smiles to the passerbys and throwing grimaces at you. 

you show her around downtown, just around her campus for a bit, making sure not to bump into her again after you two had made the wrong step and accidentally bumped shoulders.

“are you picking a fight?” hanni asks, turning fully to face you, her eyes narrowing as she sizes you up.

“i’d rather jump off that building over there,” you say, pointing to the ten-story structure looming in the distance. “--than lay a finger on you.”

“asshole.”

she rolls her eyes at you, scoffing in that way she always does when she’s annoyed. the way she looks in her oversized quarter-zip and sweatpants, with those big, clear frames perched on her nose, almost makes you laugh. there’s something oddly endearing about it, even if you won’t admit it out loud. the feeling is enough to tug a small smile to your lips, a quiet chuckle escaping before you can stop it. she looks like an idiot, a stupid, short idiot. 

hanni notices, of course, and pushes you with her shoulder, her expression a mix of irritation and something softer you can’t quite place.

you drop her off back at the house, handing her your spare key and watching her open the door. she unlocks it and the door opens just a bit, but before she steps inside, she turns to you.

hanni huffs quietly, then looks you in the eye. 

“thanks, i guess.”

“i guess?”

“yeah, i guess.”

“you’re welcome,” you say amusingly, looking down at her and analyzing just a bit. “i guess.”

she shakes her head and steps inside the house, you don’t step away until she’s fully inside and you hear the lock click.

–

the two of you don’t run into each other for a little over a week, but neither of you can stop thinking about the other here and there, despite how much it annoys you.

you’ve been busy with work, fixing up things around your apartment, and spending time with friends before they get caught up in the chaos of school. your days have been a mix of runs, training, and lifting weights at michael’s home, with the surprising bonus of not running into hanni. it’s been peaceful, almost too peaceful, but you’re not complaining.

hanni, on the other hand, has been getting settled into the town and adjusting to her new classes. she’s spent the week mingling with new people, going over her first few notes, and tweaking her schedule to make sure she stays on top of everything. she’s the type who thrives in a flexible routine, something that keeps her grounded and stress-free, so she’s been focused on creating that for herself. 

even though you haven’t crossed paths, the thought of each other lingers in the back of your minds, a low-level irritation (and maybe just a bit of infatuation) that neither of you can quite shake off.

the next time you run into each other, hanni is sitting at her desk, highlighting a few terms and studying some diagrams when she hears faint music and the rhythmic sound of something being hit, followed by the clinking of chains. at first, she perks up, curiosity piqued, but she dismisses it, turning her own music up to drown out the distraction.

but the noise doesn’t stop. in fact, it gets louder, the chains clinking so persistently that hanni finally gives in. she sets her highlighter down and gets up, irritation mixing with curiosity. she doesn’t see anything at first, just an open garage door across the way. so, she heads downstairs, still in her pajamas—an oversized t-shirt and old middle school gym shorts.

when she reaches the garage, she opens the door to find you, drenched in sweat, going at it with a punching bag. you’re throwing a series of rapid punches, each one landing with a solid thud, your breaths sharp and controlled. 

hanni stands there for a moment, caught off guard by the intensity of it all, the sight of you completely absorbed in your workout, the focus etched on your face as the chains rattle with each strike. 

then she shakes herself out of her trance, closing the door behind her loudly and earning your attention.

“what are you doing?”

you land one last blow to the sandbag before looking at her as you catch your breath. “what does it look like i’m doing, reading?” you ask sarcastically, feeling a drop of sweat drip off your chin.

“ugh,” hanni puts on a random pair of slides on the ground before walking up to you. “could you keep it down? i have to study, ever heard of that?”

“nerd.” you mumble, eyes narrowing at the frames she has on. “close the windows.”

“hot air rises.”

“fan?”

“y/n.” hanni groans. “some people are trying to get a degree.”

“and some people need some extra cash.” you retort, turning back and landing another blow at the bag. 

she groans again, shaking her head and biting her lip before she kicks your leg. you stop, turning back over with an annoyed look plastered on your face.

“could you please just lower the volume of your music down? and maybe close the garage door?”

“it’s hot in here.”

“it’s hot up there too, don’t be soft.”

you scoff, raising your eyebrows. “me? soft?”

hanni pinches the bridge of her nose, she looks irritated beyond measure – it’s really amusing. “i could care less if you have to fight later, i’m trying to do some work for uni and if you could just cooperate – please.”

you almost fight back – verbally of course, with some snarky comeback or something like that – but the genuine distress shown on her face makes you back down. you inhale sharply, then exhale slowly, looking out the garage door before you start to take off your gloves.

“fine, whatever.” you mumble before using your teeth to peel the velcro portion off. “i only practiced for twenty minutes but fine.”

hanni feels a twinge of guilt as she watches you angrily toss the gloves into the corner. she sees the way your hands slick back your damp hair, your movements rough and frustrated as you grab your bag. you wipe the sweat from your face with a towel, but her eyes are drawn to the way the light glistens off your back, the defined muscles highlighted by sweat and shadows. when you turn, hanni’s gaze catches on the hint of your abs peeking out from your tank top, and she quickly looks away, her jaw tightening as she forces herself not to stare.

her eyes wander to a photo pinned up on the garage wall. it’s of you and her grandpa, standing side by side. you’re smiling proudly, and he’s raising your hand in victory, a small medal clutched in your other hand. the sight makes hanni exhale, the irritation she felt earlier softening a bit.

before you can leave, she steps forward, stopping you in your tracks.

you turn to face her, looking at her questionably. “what?”

“hey,” hanni looks away, seemingly making up her mind about whatever she’s about to say or do. “i… i get home at around three if i’m studying after classes, that’s a better time to you know… do your stuff.”

“i work, hanni.”

“well, it was just a suggestion.” she looks at you intensely, eyes focused on yours. “or just… turn your music down… or something.”

“thanks for the suggestion, asshole.”

“hey!”

you can’t help but chuckle, a small smile accdientally forming before you put your poker face back on. “you’ll get used to it.”

“i hate you.”

“whatever, tell that to michael.” you add finally before flipping her off as you walk away; you hear hanni scoffing from behind.

–

you sneak in practice when hanni’s not home or when michael offers to help because there’s nothing better than taking out whatever you feel out on a punching bag or in the air. 

hanni is too preoccupied with work and her new friends to think about what a nuisance you are, but still, she finds time here and there everyday for you to pop up in her mind. she groans everytime your dumb face flickers in her brain, scoffing and shaking her head.

sometimes you even think of hanni, mostly when you’re in michael’s house and not getting scolded – for some reason, the absence of bickering with hanni and the hostility in the air makes you feel strange, almost like somethings missing despite your very little time with her.

neither of you bat an eye – this is a lie, both of you do, but as subtly as you can – when it comes to the thought of each other. it’s nothing, it can’t be.

–

minjeong kept you out, making you tag along with her little group of friends for dinner. all of you had barbeque and were laughing at the texts from aeri’s new talking stage.

it’s a boatload of cliche, sappy romantic lines that were probably found in a book he had picked up in the library. it’s oddly cliche and corny, things ranging from ‘you’re brighter than the sun, my love’ to ‘van gogh could never pain anything as beautiful as you’ and it has the whole table bursting out into laughter. sure, it was charming in its own way, but still, you cackled after watching jimin nearly spit out her beer after reading through all of it.

“jesus christ, who is this guy?” minjeong scoffs.

aeri sips on her drink, shrugging. “some guy in my statistics class, heeseung or something.”

“and you haven’t blocked him?” you chuckle, sipping on your soda. you were never a drinker despite your high tolerance, always opting for something without alcohol and being the token sober friend. “you’re stronger than me.”

“he’s cute! he’s just… icky over text. i swear he’s better in person. he’s like, super sweet and shit – in a frat too but he’s not like most frat guys.”

minjeong nudges your shoulder and looks at you with raised brows, you give her a knowing look and laugh to yourself. she leans over and mutters in your ear, “how much are you betting that they become official?”

“pftt, two weeks. aeri seems more than entertained, maybe enamored?”

“if it’s less than, you owe me twenty bucks.”

you roll your eyes, finishing your diet coke. “ass.”

“it’s a deal~” minjeong cheers before both of you return to the conversation, watching jimin give another judgy look after seeing his instagram. 

just then, your phone buzzes against the table and you turn to check it. there’s a text from michael, so you quickly look over to unlock your phone with your face and read the message; there’s something about michael asking you to take the morning shift instead of the evening, which makes you sigh. 

you love your friends, but michael and work have to come first sometimes.

“hey guys, i gotta go. sorry.” you sigh, picking up your little bag.

“what?” aeri whines, “it’s only eight?”

“i have to cover the morning, probably aki’s fault. i’m sorry – here.” you slap two ten dollar bills down, offering an apologetic smile. “it’s for the tip, use the other ten for dessert or something. sorry again, let’s hang next week?”

“ugh, fine.” minjeong groans before giving you a little side hug. she smiles at you and pinches your cheek, something all of your friends do since you’re the youngest of the bunch. “see you, asshole.”

“uh huh, fuck you too.” you joke, then wave to the rest. “bye.”

you walk out of the small barbeque restaurant and fix the tank top on your body, groaning at the small oil stain on the bottom of it. you sigh before continuing to walk down the road, fixing your hair as the wind messes it up.

your ear twitches when you hear a whistle, then a remark that makes your head turn.

“hey sweetheart, let me get a piece of that…” just the sound of it tells you it’s some drunkie, when you catch sight of three men, your assumption is proved correct.

“c’mon baby, don’t be shy now.” another one says, leaning against the wall as his other friend walks over to the woman passing by, tugging at her wrist lightly.

“hey, don’t be an ass, you’re too pretty to–”

you step forward, grabbing her wrist and pulling her away from the group. she looks at you, first confused, then with a flicker of gratitude as you motion for her to leave with a quick wave of your hand. she doesn’t hesitate, scurrying down the road while you turn back to face the three men in front of you.

their faces are flushed, a deep red from anger or alcohol—or maybe both. their hair is messy, beards scraggly and unkempt, and their eyes narrow as they take you in. one of them, bolder than the others, strides up and grabs your wrist. but you twist it sharply, making him wince and pull back with a pained groan.

“you wanna be a brave little bitch, huh?” he sneers, rubbing his wrist.

you shake his hand off and shove him back, your gaze hard and unflinching. his friends laugh darkly, stepping up beside him. they’re all taller, but not by much, and the height difference doesn’t faze you. you stand your ground, eyes locked on them with a cold intensity that makes their chuckles falter.

“look at you, you’re pretty too huh princess?”

“and you look like you were made with a quick nut.” you scoff stepping back as he steps forward.

“the hell did you say?”

“you heard me.”

he pokes the inside of his cheek before grabbing your wrist again, his grip tight enough so you can’t repeat your escape from his hold.

“oh, i’m gonna make you regret that, you little whore—” his threat is cut short as your fist connects with his jaw, snapping his head to the side. he groans, clutching his cheek and letting go of your wrist.

before you can catch your breath, his friend grabs your arm and slams you against the brick wall. your shoulder scrapes against the rough surface, tearing the skin and drawing blood. you try to push forward, but another man shoves you back, forcing you to hit the same spot again. the impact knocks the wind out of you, and you gasp, the pain sharp and immediate.

they surround you, blocking any view of the street. their smirks widen, and you can feel the danger closing in. but as one of them makes a move, you react instinctively, throwing a hook that catches him off guard and sends him stumbling back. his friends pause, shocked, before they turn to you, arms raised, fists clenched.

“so you think you’re tough, huh? that’s cute…” one of them slurs, stepping closer.

you don’t hesitate. you drive a jab straight into his chest, forcing the air out of him and making him stagger. the last man lunges at you, but you sidestep him, landing a solid blow to his jaw. he crumples, and you’re left standing, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you face the remaining two who are back up, ready for whatever comes next.

–

hanni is sprawled out on the couch, completely absorbed in the latest season of her favorite show. she’s nestled against the armrest, legs stretched out so far that her toes nearly graze the opposite end. her eyes are glued to the screen, knuckles brushing her lips as she watches the unfolding drama with bated breath. the sound of the door unlocking barely registers; she assumes it’s just her grandpa coming home.

“hi grandpa!” she calls out, not bothering to glance away from the screen. but instead of the usual warm greeting, there’s only the sound of the door closing with an unexpected force. that makes her pause. she hits the pause button and finally turns her head, eyebrows knitting together when she sees you heading toward the kitchen.

there’s something off about the way you move—your shoulders are slumped, and you lean heavily against the counter as soon as you reach it. it’s then that hanni notices the blood staining your shoulder, her eyes widening. she’s on her feet in an instant, rushing over in her oversized pajamas.

“y/n?” she gasps, her voice tight with concern as she takes in the sight of your scratched back, exposed by your tank top. “what happened?”

“nothing.” you lie, opening the cupboard and grabbing the first aid kit. 

“why are you so–” hanni catches herself before she insults you. “are you okay?”

“it’s just a scratch, go enjoy your show.”

“your shoulder is bleeding, and there are scrapes all over your back.” this is the first time hanni’s seen you in almost a month, and instead of you just showing up to exist and annoy her like usual, you’re battered and bruised. you’ve got blood seeping out from a cut on your shoulder, scratches on your jaw, and more dried blood on the edge of your nostril – probably from a prior nosebleed. there’s even a small cut on your neck, and overall, you look completely wrecked. hanni looks you up and down before pointing out the obvious, “this is not just a scratch.”

“thanks, sherlock,” you mutter as you tear open an alcohol wipe packet. “i got into a fight.”

“for money? how did gloves lead to this?” she asks, bewildered.

“no, not for money.” you wince as the alcohol stings your wound, but you keep going. “some guys were catcalling this woman... probably would’ve done worse to her if i hadn’t stepped in.”

“jesus… what happened after you stepped in?” hanni’s voice softens as she watches you closely, her eyes tracing the tension in your arm as you clean the wound.

“they pushed me against a brick wall and tried to fight me. it was three against one, but they were drunk. it wasn’t easy, but it’s handled. it’s nothing,” you say, brushing it off as you grab the nearest gauze and the biggest bandage you can find.

hanni makes a disgusted face, then it softens into something of worry.

you start to wash your hands and hanni can’t help but gaze at you for a while, you look back at her as your hands rub soap around, keeping eye contact and biting down on your teeth.

“you’re so fucking wreckless.”

“thanks hanni.” you say sarcastically, turning back to rinse your hands and shake them dry. “you’re so sweet.”

“why didn’t you just run? they were drunk and you’re–”

“asshole’s deserve bruises.” you answer. “i fight because i like to, and sometimes it’s necessary in situations like this.”

“do you like getting hurt?” hanni asks, “what the hell is wrong with you.” it unintentionally comes out harsh, surprising you both.

“oh, so i can’t fight drunk assholes who only think with their dicks? what the fuck is your problem? why do you care?” you snap, stepping closer to hanni, sizing her up. “you’re all ‘you piss me off’ until i do something that has nothing to do with you.”

“well!” hanni starts, her voice wavering as she takes in your expression, eventually backing down. “i don’t know, okay? it’s just… you’re hurt. i’m studying to work in a fucking hospital, so of course, i’m going to be bothered by an injury. you should’ve let it go.”

“then be bothered by other people’s injuries, not mine,” you reply, your voice stern as you look down at her, your gaze sharp. hanni shivers under your intense stare, breaking eye contact by shaking her head and scoffing quietly. you start packing up the first aid kit, your back to her as you add, “i’m staying in the room upstairs tonight. don’t come worrying your ass off.”

“fuck you,” hanni groans, crossing her arms defensively.

“go finish your show,” you mumble, brushing your shoulder against hers as you walk past without looking back. but hanni does—she turns around, catching you stomping towards the stairs in silence.

she pinches the bridge of her nose as she heads back to the couch, flopping down with a frustrated sigh. “see if i care…” she grumbles, resuming her show.

hanni tries to focus on the tension between the two leads on screen, but she can’t shake the tension between the two of you. it lingers, gnawing at her, and she finds herself angry at you but even angrier at herself. she can’t pinpoint why, but it frustrates her to the point of a near headache. 

hanni hates you, she hates how stupidly careless you are, how you’ve gotten hurt, and the fact that you’re making her worry.

she despises you.

-

your whole body is sore from what you had endured the night prior, but it doesn’t stop you from making a coffee in the morning. 

you lean against the counter and hold yourself up with your hand, clutching your shoulder with the other. it still hurts, it had hurt even more as you changed the bandaid waiting for your coffee to drop, but it had to happen.

as you pour a glass, you hear someone going down the stairs and the contact of their feet hitting the wooden floor reverberating throughout the quiet house. hanni comes into vision in a few seconds, rubbing her eyes and then tying up her bedhead to reveal a puffy face.

avoiding eye contact, you look away, leaving her with the view of the side of your face and the bandaid on your shoulder. 

it’s silent, yet the tension seems like a siren blaring in your ears. 

hanni walks past you, grabbing an empty glass before trudging over to the fridge. the sound of water filling the glass echoes in the quiet kitchen as you sip your coffee, the gulp a little too loud in the stillness. you can hear every step she takes, the soft shuffle as she leans against the counter across from you, the gentle clink of the glass as she brings it to her lips. each sip she takes seems to resonate, followed by a small sigh that hangs in the air. everything feels heightened— every sound, every movement — everything.

you turn around and make your way to the sink – right next to hanni – and dump the rest of your coffee down the drain because you can’t finish it in front of her. neither of you bat an eye at each other, despite your faces being a hand or two apart. hanni sips on her water, you let the running water fill the silence until you decide to say something.

“i’m going to work.”

“okay.”

“okay.” you respond, turning to finally catch a glimpse of her face again, side profile and all enhanced by the light.

you grab your work bag on the table and put on your cap, not batting an eye at her as you walk towards the door.

“wait,” hanni says suddenly, making you turn around again to face her. you raise your brows, expecting more from her. “don’t be reckless.” she adds, looking you dead in the eye.

you tense up, looking right back at her. 

“whatever.” you mumble, turning back around to leave.

–

not only did michael make you work from eight in the morning until three, he makes you clock out to see a text saying “hey, could you pick up hanni?” the same hanni that you had argued with last night because you were stubborn, in pain, and still angry at three assholes to the point that you had lashed out on his innocent granddaughter for no reason.

you’re in debt to michael forever (basically – in your mind that’s the case) so of course you respond with a small thumbs up emoji.

now you find yourself back in your car, on the way to the university hanni goes to, which, is conveniently and frighteningly the same university your friends go to. if they had caught you picking up a girl, who knows what remarks they’d bring to the table the next time you see them.

(it’s not the fact that it’s just a girl, it’s the fact that hanni isn’t ugly in the slightest, not at all.)

(pretty even, but that could be pushing it.)

(it’s not pushing it, not at all the more you think about it.)

(you decide to shake hanni off your mind.)

you park by the public health building, waiting for michael’s granddaughter to show up. you sigh, looking at all the students passing by and sighing even harder looking at the dumb couples hand in hand. the last time you tried loving, it made it hard to even consider being in something like that – being enamored.

you’re back to earth when you catch a girl with overgrown bangs in a oversized jersey and sweats in the distance. she’s grinning and giggling with two other women you don’t recognize, even pushing one in the shoulder and smiling wide.

it hits you that you’ve never seen her like this… joyful? it’s partly your fault, holding onto that stupid grudge you can’t let go of, but still, it’s strange seeing her so open. she crinkles her nose, laughs with her mouth wide, and throws her head back just a bit—it’s oddly cute, even adorable. something about it unsettles you, though, like you’re witnessing a side of her you were never meant to see. even then, you feel one corner of your lips turning up just barely.

she’s closer to the car, looking around as her friend says something inaudible. then she catches you in her field of vision and her smile falters slightly, it unsettles you even more.

“i’ll see you guys tomorrow, bye!” hanni waves to her two friends, then walks towards your car. she opens the door to the passengers side and takes off her bag before settling in. 

it’s silent when she closes it, other than the faint sound of your rnb playlist in the background and the click of hanni’s seatbelt. you shift the stick and start to get out of where you are, hanni looks forward and out the window.

once you make it to the stoplight before leaving the grounds, you take the opportunity the red light gives you to speak.

“i’m sorry.”

hanni turns her head at your sudden apology, looking at you like you’ve just spat nonsense.

“what?”

“i’m sorry for… being so,” you grip the wheel tighter, turning your head just a bit to meet her gaze. “you know, stubborn.”

“is this about last night?”

you gulp. “yeah.”

“oh, okay.” hanni says, looking back and watching the light turn green. 

you slowly hit the gas and turn the wheel. “i was really um, angry last night, from everything.” you start again, eyes on the road. “i didn’t mean to be a bitch.”

“look who’s self-aware.”

“shut the hell up.”

“what an apology.” hanni says, though not without smiling to herself a bit. she looks at the bandaid on your neck, then asks, “are you good?”

“i’m fine, it was just a scratch.”

“right.”

“i literally box, hanni.”

“with gloves and a ref.”

“wow! good eye.” you say bluntly, making her snicker a bit. hanni smiles, not quite like you had seen her smile before, but the way her lips turn make you smile yourself.

she looks out the window on her side for a bit, you keep driving and turn up the volume along the way.

“why did you start boxing?” she asks out of the blue. 

you glance at her for a split second, she’s still gazing out the window. “my grandpa boxed.”

“do you like it? doesn’t it hurt?”

“it’s–” you pause, thinking of a response that doesn’t reveal too much. “--thrilling. i mean, i just… bottle up a lot. it’s the only way i get all of it out.”

“is it?”

“i guess? kinda. you should box, seems like you’ve got a lot in that tiny body of yours.” you joke.

“i’d rather jump off a building.” hanni pretends to shiver. “i don’t know how you or yunjin do it.”

“you’d love it, just put on gloves and go crazy.”

she rolls her eyes, leaning against the glass as you turn the corner. 

the rest of the ride is silent.

–

two weeks later, you’re sitting down on the couch in your apartment and watching more of your grandpa’s matches. there’s something beautiful and equally as admirable in how swift and agile he is with each move, easily taking down anyone in his way. you replay certain moments, specifically his hooks that you tried your best to replicate.

in the middle of it all, you hear a knock on your door.

you turn, looking confused because why would anyone be at your place? maybe minjeong left something again, but she hasn’t been at your place in over a week.

you open the door, not minding that you’re literally in a sports bra and boy shorts looking like you’ve just gotten out at bed, and widen your eyes at the sight of hanni in your view.

hanni, on the other hand, tenses up at the sight of you. 

your whole body is on display, but not in the way yunjin does it—dressed to impress, ready to make out with whoever catches her eye at parties. yours is a different kind of exposure, casual and unintentional, almost domestic. it catches hanni off guard, all of it. her eyes trace the small strawberry tattoo just above your waistline, lingering on the subtle curve and tone of your abdomen. the way your skin glistens under the dimmed light overhead makes it even harder for her to look away.

she’s staring – blatantly. 

you clear your throat, leaning your head down a bit as you put your hand against the doorframe.

“what are you doing here?”

“what?” hanni shoots her head up to match your level. “oh, my grandpa needed something.”

“did he? shit… i borrowed his cooking shit for a house party–” you groan, “just come inside, sit down on the couch.”

hanni does as she’s told, you let her inside and she’s taken aback by how… neat it is. 

hanni always thought of you as someone angry and stubborn—your first impressions and the way you carried yourself made her believe you’d be disorganized, a bit all over the place. but now, sitting in your apartment, she realizes how wrong she was. the earthy tones, the carefully placed trinkets, the neatly arranged shelves, and the thoughtfully chosen furniture all speak to a side of you she didn’t expect. as she sits on the couch, her eyes drift to the small plant by your tv and the man locked in the middle of a match on the screen. she glances at the coffee table, stacked with boxing and vintage magazines. your place is nice, unexpectedly so.

you return with a box balanced against your side, holding it in place with one hand while you use the other to clear the coffee table. placing the box down, you settle into the smaller seat opposite her, leaning back with a sigh. you manspread casually, your posture relaxed as you take a moment to unwind. 

it’s oddly alluring, hanni thinks, she wants to stop thinking forever as soon as the thought even processes through her brain.

“that should be all of it.” you yawn and rub your eyes. “tell michael i said sorry for forgetting.”

“right, yeah.” hanni’s staring at you, she can’t seem to take her eyes off you, not when you look so… tolerable?

“did you need something else or…?”

“no,” hanni coughs, shaking her head. “but i need you to take me somewhere um, this saturday. my grandpa is gone for the weekend.”

“am i your uber now? i don’t know if i can, i’m going out on saturday.”

“oh, nevermind then.”

“where do you need to go?” you ask, “i can make arrangements, i guess.”

“a party”

“you party?” you snicker, looking at her amused. “i didn’t know you had a social life.”

“you are actually the most annoying person i know.” she grabs the box, then starts to stand. “nevermind, you ass.”

she starts to walk away, heading toward the door, but your touch halts her. hanni feels the gentle tug of your finger hooked around the back of her zip-up’s neckline, the fabric pulling her back slightly. she turns to face you, confusion etched in her expression as she meets your gaze.

“i’ll take you, loser.” you release your finger from her hoodie. “what’s your number?”

“my what?”

“number hanni, what you use to text and call people. one, two, three, four, five, six and so on… you know, the digits on your little phone.” your tone reminds her of a kindergarten teacher talking to a child, or some soft parenting method – it’s teasing and hanni would punch you if it weren’t for the box she was holding.

she manages to stomp on your foot, making you say ‘ow’ jokingly. then she gives you her number, you send a text, a simple ‘asshole’ and smiling when you hear the little buzz from her pocket.

“just text me the address, oh, and by the way,” you say, tugging lightly at the sleeve of her zip-up hoodie, your fingers brushing against the soft fabric. “where’d you get this?” your eyes trace the way it drapes over her, the oversized fit somehow flattering. it falls just past her waist, the sleeves hanging slightly, giving her a cozy, effortless look. maybe it’s just her that makes it work so well. maybe it’s just her.

she shrugs, muttering, “i don’t know, my grandpa gave it to me and said it’d fit.”

“it’s a little big on you,” you tease, a smirk playing on your lips. “might fit someone taller.”

“i will throw this box at you,” hanni groans, rolling her eyes. you laugh softly, opening the door for her, watching as she steps into the hallway.

“hey, hanni,” you call after her, making her pause and glance back. she tilts her head, curious, as you add with a mischievous grin, “that’s my zip-up, by the way.”

she freezes, her cheeks flushing as she processes your words. she looks down at the hoodie, suddenly aware of how comfortable it feels, how it smells faintly like you. you’re terrible, she thinks, hating the weird flutter in her stomach, the way her blush deepens. everything about you, your stupid remarks, your annoying personality, and that oddly cute nature—it all makes her feel things she can’t quite name, and it drives her crazy.

hanni hates you.

(just a little less now, or maybe more – she hates how confused you render her.)

–

you send hanni a simple ‘here.’ text and stand outside the door waiting for her, hands in your pockets as you look at the overgrown grass that needs to be cut soon – most likely by you. as much as you dread it, you’ll be getting some good food after, that’s always promised.

the door opens a few minutes later and hanni appears, you’re taken aback.

she’s fucking gorgeous.

a loose white baby t-shirt clings to her softly, revealing just a hint of her delicate stomach and the subtle curve that draws your eye without meaning to. her low-rise jeans ride low enough to show the waistband of her underwear, adding to the effortless appeal. when you finally look up at her, your lips part slightly, caught off guard by how striking she is. her full, plump lips are highlighted by a touch of makeup that emphasizes their natural shape. though her makeup is minimal, the slight smokiness around her eyes and the rosy blush on her cheeks bring out her features in a way that feels almost intimate. her bangs fall just above her eyes, partially obscuring her forehead, and the hoops in her ears add a finishing touch. everything about her compels you to take a second look, your heart skipping a beat in the process. 

“are you ready?” hanni breaks you out of your trance, you blink and then look past her. 

“yeah, sorry.”

she tries to read you, then shakes it off and walks past you and towards your car. you subconsciously look her up and down, furrowing your brows when it hits that you basically just checked her out.

was hanni always this… nice on the eyes?

hanni gets in the car first after you unlock it, you plop in the drivers seat check your messages, there’s an address in your groupchat with minjeong and the others. you decide to check it later, instead asking hanni to type her address in your phone, which is almost too similar to the one you had just seen in your notifications.

“hold on,” you mutter under your breath, staring at the address hanni had typed in and then at the one in your group chat. it’s the same address. “i think… we’re going to the same party.”

“you party?”

“okay you can’t ask me that, nerd. and yes, i do when i want.”

“whatever.” hanni rolls her eyes as you wait for the directions to pop up on your carplay screen. you take the time to settle your phone down in the cup holder, then gaze at hanni for a little, eyes flickering from her eyes to her lips once, then twice. hanni raises a brow, then asks bashfully, “what?”

“nothing,” you mumble, looking at her lips again. you reach her eyes one more time, making eye contact. “you just look really… good.” you admit, “i guess.”

“oh.” hanni just stares at you while you shift the car from ‘p’ to ‘d’, turning the car away from the curb and driving. she stares hard, focused on everything about you – from the satisfying curve of the side of your features to the sharp jawline of yours, and then to the skin of your abdomen that’s peeking out from the work jacket you have on.

she doesn’t say a word after that, instead scoffing playfully and making you smile softly. she puts on some random song from her playlist after forcefully taking the aux, accidentally playing a more intimate rnb song, making the tension in the air thicker.

–

you two make it to the house in less than ten minutes walking side by side. both of you can hear music blasting from inside, glancing at each other from the side and smiling to yourselves. 

“my god…” hanni scoffs.

“what, you don’t like astroworld? travis scott isn’t even that bad, they could be playing fucking… juice wrld or something.”

“i hear sicko mode playing every other day outside the food courts… no thanks. and ew! who plays juice wrld at a party?” 

you stifle a chuckle before walking over, hanni follows behind. you two make your way inside – the door had been unlocked already – and walk in. there’s more than just a handful of people, it’s like whoever hosted the function invited anyone they looked at. you spot your friends somewhere in the distance, locking eyes with aeri who smiles immediately after seeing you. 

you nudge hanni’s shoulder, she glares at you while you throw a cocky smirk and say, “text me when you wanna leave, i’m gonna be sober, trust.” hanni nods at you, catching the way your eyes linger on her for a few more seconds, especially at her revealed skin, then watches you leave.

she walks through the house, eventually finding her own group of friends – including yunjin. yunjin questions hanni, mentioning that she saw you earlier with her, asking if she was just more than tipsy and seeing things. but hanni sighs, pretending to be bothered by your presence as she explains a shorter version of how you two grew to tolerate each other. 

she leaves out the fact that maybe it’s because you’re just as charming and cute as you are annoying and cocky. she sugarcoats a lot about you, both the good and bad, making sure yunjin isn’t too bothered. thankfully, her older friend doesn’t mind, instead she shrugs and switches topics when minji arrives with haewon.

–

it’s been at least three hours of meeting a bunch of people from the university your friends – and coincidentally hanni – go to, playing beer bong without doing the whole drinking part, and for the past thirty minutes you’ve been watching minjeong flirt with girls from across the room and making stupid bets with aeri and jimin as she did so. ningning even snapped pictures of the tipsy flirt, making sure to remind herself to send it to the groupchat in the morning.

you check the time, brows raising at how late it is – nearly one in the morning.

“i’m going to find someone.”

“someone?” aeri raises her brows.

“it’s not like that, this girl i know.” you shove her playfully, then add, “might not be back, she has curfew – i’m giving her curfew, don’t trust her at all.”

“when did you get a girlfriend? let me meet her–”

“she’s not, shut up. i gotta go, i’ll text you or appear or something if i end up staying, see you.” you wave at your friends and then to the three others that had joined your little group conversation, lily? bae? yujin? you can’t remember clearly, but you’re probably right – you’re the only one with a functioning, sober brain in the moment anyway.

heading inside, you check your phone again. hanni texted you fifteen minutes ago saying she’d be waiting in the basement since her friends had left – most of them, the others were probably doing much more… thrilling things.

the basement wasn’t too hard to find. the music was loud, the room dimly lit, and the smell of alcohol mixed with something that is probably weed heavy in the air. you scan the room, jaw tightening and fists balling up when you catch some guy – the guy that you swear aeri was defending the night you got into a fight – all up on hanni.

what was his name? hongjoong? haneul? no, heeseung. that guy, heeseung, you catch him leaning in closer to hanni, his words drowned out by the music and his smile overly confident. hanni tried to laugh it off, but the discomfort was clear on her face. heeseung didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he didn’t care. he reached out to touch her arm, and that’s when rushed over and stepped in.

you pushed through the crowd, even the two guys about to lock lips, your heart pounding as you saw how close heeseung was getting. you knew he was drunk, and that made him unpredictable. you couldn’t stand by and watch this happen.

“hey man, back off,” you said firmly, stepping between him and hanni.

heeseung’s eyes narrowed as he looked at you. “what’s your problem? we’re just having fun.”

“she’s not interested,” you replied, keeping your voice steady. “leave her alone.”

heeseung’s expression darkened, and before you could react, he shoved you hard, making you stumble back. your instincts kicked in, and you quickly regained your footing, shoving him back with equal force.

“you wanna go, huh?” heeseung taunted, his voice dripping with bravado as he squared up to you.

the crowd around you started to take notice, some backing away while others watched with eager anticipation. you knew this wasn’t going to end well, it never does when you’re involved, but there was no turning back now, not with hanni on the line and at risk. 

you didn’t want to fight, not really, but heeseung swung first, a wild punch that you barely dodged. now you have to fight him, it’s what you train yourself for anyway. 

you retaliated, landing a solid hit to his side and yelling through the music, “back the fuck up.” but it only seemed to anger him more. hanni hides behind you, stepping back as you put a hand out to keep her away from the intoxicated asshole in front of you.

he lunges at you and you feel a sharp sting on your side, followed by the warmth of blood trickling down your ribcage. heeseung had managed to land a hit that split the skin over your rib, his ring slicing what wasn’t covered by your sports bra and jacket. you didn’t have time to dwell on it; you were so focused on keeping hanni away from him that you didn’t even notice the fist hurling at your face while you looked back to check on her. you could taste the metallic tang of blood in your mouth, realizing he had hit your nose 

but you weren’t backing down. you pushed through the pain, throwing another punch that connected with heeseung’s jaw, sending him stumbling back. he tried to come at you again, but you were quicker, sidestepping his attack and delivering a powerful hook to his gut. heeseung doubled over, gasping for breath, and you took the opportunity to finish the fight.

with one last punch, you sent him crashing to the floor. he groans in pain, clutching his side as he lay there, defeated. you stood over him, breathing heavily. your body hurts, there’s blood dripping down on the wooden floor below you, and there’s still the taste of metal in your mouth. 

hanni rushes over to you, her eyes wide with concern as she saw the blood on your side and face. “y/n, are you okay?” she asks, her voice trembling.

your breath shakes, then you wipe the blood from your nose with the back of your hand. “it’s nothing,” you replied, though the pain was starting to set in. “we should go.”

hanni didn’t argue. she helped you out of the crowded room, the two of you leaving heeseung behind as he lay there, too stunned and beaten to follow.

she also doesn’t say a word as you walk away from the fight with a bloody nose and cut skin over the skin of your rib as well as on the corner of your lip. she doesn’t say a word as she follows you to the car, but to be fair, you hadn’t let her anyway.

your breath is shaky the whole way back, you gasp as you flop against the headrest of the car.

“y/n, are you okay?” you don’t respond to her inquiry. instead, you grip the wheel tightly, eyes fixed on the road, and bite down on your back teeth. there’s an unreadable expression on your face, you’re angry and hurt and god knows what else; there’s so much going on with you that hanni can’t point out. 

hanni doesn’t want to feed the fire, you look like you’ll punch anything if she even considers saying another word. she just stares ahead, letting you drive back to her place, following you after you slam the door of your car and lock it, walking in behind you as you open the door without looking back.

“you’re okay, right?” you ask quietly, voice practically a hum. “he didn’t touch you or anything, did he?

“no, he didn’t.” she stares at your back after you take off your work jacket, throwing it at the couch. “you’re–”

“i’m going to stay the night, i’ll be in the shower.”

“i–” hanni watches you disappear up the stairs, then her features relax into defeat.

–

some of your clothes are still in the room you used to stay in, you grab an old black t-shirt and throw it on, along with your old high school gym shorts. 

everything hurts. your body is a mess of bruises and cuts, but it’s your heart that aches the most. your chest tightens with a mix of regret and self-loathing, each breath a painful reminder of how stupid you were to get into a fight with another drunk idiot. the fact that it all happened in front of hanni makes your stomach churn. you can’t shake the image of her wide eyes, the surprise—maybe even fear?—etched across her face as she watched you throw punches and take hits right in front of her.

there’s a gnawing doubt that settles deep in your mind. did she think less of you for losing control like that? did it make you seem weaker in her eyes because you’d gotten hurt in a reckless, impulsive moment? you replay the scene over and over, each time the look on her face twists the knife in your gut a little more. it shouldn’t bother you, none of it should, you fight for fun, you’ve fought her fucking friend – but still, your flop onto the bed with a groan.

you wonder what she’s thinking now, if she’s disappointed or disgusted, if she sees you differently after witnessing your bruised and battered state. the thought that she might judge you, might see you as less capable, gnaws at you relentlessly. what if she thinks you’re just some bigger asshole than you already are to her, one who can’t control their temper, who gets beat up by nobodies in a drunken brawl? 

you shoot up when you hear a knock on the door, staring straight at it until it opens slowly to reveal hanni in the universities crewneck sweatshirt and shorts, as well as a first aid kit in one hand and an ice pack in the other.

“hey.”

“what do you want?”

“sit up.”

“hanni–”

“are you ever not an asshole? what did i say? sit up straight.” her tone is venomous, you’ve never heard her this serious or angry – seriously angry, angrier than when you spilled coffee on yunjin that one time. “please, just please listen to me for once.”

“fine.”

she sits down next to you, watching you shrink a bit just from her being there. she sets down the first aid kit, you watch her open it and grab a little wipe. then your gaze is redirected when she grabs your chin and moves it, facing it towards her as she examines close, making you gasp and you even feel your cheeks heating up. 

hanni gently cradles your chin between her thumb and pointer finger, her touch firm but surprisingly tender. she carefully dabs at the blood on your lip, her focus intent as if the world outside this moment doesn’t exist. when she lets go, there’s an unexpected pang of disappointment in the pit of your stomach, a slight desire for her touch to linger just a little longer.

but then, she holds you again, tilting your head slightly upward as she tends to the small cut on your lip. her fingers are cool against your skin, and you can’t help but wince at the sting. her expression softens, a brief flicker of concern crossing her face, but she doesn’t say anything. the silence between you is thick, loaded with everything unsaid, as she continues to care for you with a careful, almost hesitant touch.

“you’re an idiot, you know.” hanni says lowly, eyes focused on that little wound. “but less of an asshole.”

“what?” you inhale sharply when hanni presses harder on the cut, most likely intentionally. “ouch.”

“you’re hurt, and it’s because of me. i understand if you’re mad at me for that.”

you pull away, looking at her in disbelief. “what? i’m not mad at you.”

“really?”

“you dumbass.” you start, hanni just stares. “i don’t care about getting hurt, i just… i got so angry, and then he swung and… i just… i don’t know.” you grip the edge of the bed, avoiding her gaze. “i just didn’t want you hurt. i seriously don’t care that i’m hurt, i don’t care at all, i’d take another punch or two if it meant you being safe.”

“really?”

“i mean, yeah. you’re… i don’t know. why would i not do that?”

“i didn’t know you cared for me like that.”

“of course i do hanni.” the words slip out before you can stop them, carrying a weight you didn’t intend. you meet her eyes, your expression showing some sort of longing, exposing something unclear to both you and hanni, maybe unspoken or unknown feelings. your voice, soft and genuine, takes hanni by surprise. “i mean,” you quickly add, clearing your throat as your voice drops to a murmur, “you’re… you know. i couldn’t just let heeseung do that.”

“right,” hanni whispers, studying your face before resuming her careful attention to the cut on your lip. “um, your bruise looks rough, by the way.”

but the bruise doesn’t matter. the pain had faded the moment she touched you, the moment you became hyperaware of every little detail—the way your breath caught each time her thumb brushed against your skin, the soft part of her lips, the way she looked at you with that unreadable expression. she looks really beautiful, and you find yourself utterly captivated, unable to think of anything else but how you’re drawn to her, completely entranced by her presence.

hanni doesn’t hear a response from you, she looks up to meet your eyes, they’re staring deep into hers, brows upturned in the slightest. you two stare at each other for a moment again, hanni’s fingers still on your skin, the wipe in her hand hovering over the corner of your lip, and blush tinting both of your cheeks simultaneously. 

even with the ice pack pressed against your bruise, it feels like your skin is so warm that the ice is melting faster than it should. hanni takes your hand and places it over the pack, guiding you to hold it there. then, without a word, she reaches for the water bottle on the bedside table, setting it within easy reach before grabbing a bottle of tylenol from the kit. did they always have that in there? you really don’t care, not when hanni is carefully placing a tylenol pill at your lips and gently tapping your jaw twice.

“open,” she murmurs, her voice soft and comforting. you comply, opening your mouth just enough for her to slide the pill onto your tongue. she follows up by lifting the water bottle to your lips, helping you take a sip. you swallow, feeling the cool water slide down your throat. “good,” she whispers, her eyes lingering on your lips before meeting your gaze. she smiles, and it’s like everything else fades away.

something shifts in the air between you two, a subtle but undeniable change that makes your heart race, something that won’t easily fade. you’re certain now—whatever this is, it’s here to stay.

“can you lift your shirt up for me? i’m going to patch up your cut, okay?” you nod, keeping the ice pack on your bruise as you lift the shirt just enough for hanni to see the cut – still fresh – and furrow her brows just a bit. nonetheless, she grabs things you don’t pay attention to from the kit, then starts to work her magic.

(“when you love someone, taking care of them is never a problem. i love you y/n, and your grandpa; taking care of you two is nothing of a problem. maybe it’s rotten work for some people, but for the people i love? never.”)

her features etch into concentration, she bites the inside of her lip just barely, and it’s familiar in a bittersweet way.

(“you know y/n, i won’t be here forever.” your grandma’s voice rings in your head. “when you grow older i want you to find someone who will take care of you like that, and it’s your job to take care of them too.”)

she finishes tending to the cut, her knuckles grazing the bandage before she says, “you’re really tough, y/n.” 

the softness in her tone, the evident care, how she’s handled you so sweetly; you feel your eyes watering and before you know it there’s tears sliding down your cheek. hanni doesn’t notice until you sniffle, she looks up at you, surprised to see you in the vulnerable state.

“oh my god, are you okay? did it hurt? you should've told me–”

your voice cracks as you say, “you’re just like her.”

“y/n, what?”

“hanni, you’re, you–” you cut yourself off, bototm lip trembling as you fight back more tears. 

what catches hanni offguard again is the sudden hug she’s being pulled into, feeling your arms wrap around her, holding her close. hanni freezes, but melts into you, rubbing your back and mumbling soft reassurance, “it’s okay, it’s okay i’m– i’m here.”

“you don’t think i’m weak, do you?”

“of course not, you beat someone up for me.”

“good.”

“you’re stronger than everyone i know. you’re anything but weak.” she assures, hearing you sniffle again.

hanni is confused to say the least, but she’s not going ot let go until you’re ready, she’d stay with you the whole night if you asked, really.

you haven’t broken down in years, every punching bag you’ve ever come across has already met everything you’ve bottled up and left unsaid. but something about hanni and her care, it left you crying in her arms to the point where she had to pull away to wipe your tears here and there.

hanni listened to you talk about your grandma, her dying in your arms, her care, her, really the whole latter. she listened to everything, sitting there next to you even when you couldn’t speak and all you could do was stare right at the ground. it was almost like every grudge had fizzled away into nothing, there wasn’t any space for that anymore.

you chuckle, regaining awareness of the whole situation. you feel like an idiot. “i’m sorry you had to hear my sob story.”

“it’s nothing, seriously.” she squeezes your hand tightly. “i just want you to be okay.”

“it’s just, you remind me of her a little, i can’t remember the last time i cried like that. she said something to me once and… i guess seeing it in real time made me break down like a loser.”

hanni tended to you like no one else did, no doctor or nurse you’ve seen has ever done anything like that other than give you a little warning that boxing is dangerous and to be careful not to overtrain yourself. no one has held you like that, looked at you like that, or even spoken to you like that since your grandma.

“you’re not a loser y/n, all those times i called you an asshole, it’s just because of that stupid grudge i had.” she explains. “don’t beat yourself up over it.”

–

you and hanni have made up after that night, it took a while for you to open up fully and stop avoiding her due to your embarrassment, but it worked out.

you pick up hanni after her classes nearly everyday, michael makes you work hours that let you do so, he seems to enjoy your growing bond. 

sometimes you wait inside your car near whichever building she’s in with a drink or meal just because, and sometimes you two end up at your place for a short bit of time just to mingle and hangout. it’s a growing routine, a recurring thing that you’re fond of.

hanni’s noticing a more vulnerable, caring side of you. before all of this, she’s seen you as some fighter with anger issues, but you’re just like that on the outside. when she’s inside your skin, she’s exposed to the more calm side of you, the side that’s not always on edge, the side that makes her swoon a little bit – she’s always found you alluring no matter how hard she tried to deny it, but now that your real self is constantly in front of her; you’re someone she can’t help but smile at everytime she sees you.

she takes pictures of you rarely, but each one is favorited just because she’s telling herself that they’re funny moments worth looking back on, even if some of them are just you doing domestic things or even driving. she even mentions you to her friends sometimes, sometimes, even to yunjin (who isn’t against this whole growing bond, the rivalry had died down anyway, it was just a tournament for money) which caught her by surprise. 

hanni found herself seeking you out more often, even if it meant enduring the relentless thumping of your fists against the sandbags and the blare of your obnoxiously loud music while she tried to study. it was a small price to pay for those fleeting moments where she could catch a glimpse of you – she kind of (really) enjoyed watching you workout to the point where she’d fake complaints.

“ugh, i have a longass lecture tomorrow. please keep it down, it’s in the morning.”

“and i need to stay in shape you loser.”

“you can go a day without it, just skip today, please?”

you stop your movements, breathing in deeply to catch your breath before looking at her.

she’s wearing her glasses again, and something about them makes her look especially cute. her hair is braided into two neat plaits that hang off her shoulders, framing her face perfectly. when she looks at you, there’s a hint of playful annoyance in her expression, though it only makes you smile wider. your grin broadens even more as you take in the full picture of her—she’s drowned in oversized clothes and you can’t help but be captivated.

“is that my t-shirt?”

hanni looks down at her top, then stutters, “i- i don’t know? i just grabbed it…”

“you’re a thief, that’s what.”

“shut up oh my god.” she groans.

you chuckle, then take your gloves off and hand them to her, she looks at you confusedly. “put them on.” you urge, watching her look at you like you’re stupid. “c’mon now.”

“what?” she feels you grabbing her hands, you place the gloves on yourself for her, then push her towards the sandbag. “i’m not going to–”

“take a hit, it’s a stress reliever.”

“y/n please–”

“go on,” you smirk, raising your brows. “your grandpa was great, you have to have inherited some of his skills.” she immediately punches you in the shoulder, causing you to pout playfully.

with a sigh, she gets into a fighting stance that nearly makes you burst out laughing. she throws a punch—surprisingly decent—then looks at you expectantly.

“happy?” she asks, a dumbfounded expression on her face.

“fix your form,” you murmur, moving behind her to adjust her arms. hanni’s breath catches slightly as you correct her stance, your hands steadying her waist before tapping her thigh to shift her leg back. “there you go, but don’t stay so loose. someone’s going to knock you over.”

“it’s not like i’m going to fight anyone soon—” mid-sentence, you give her a gentle shove, causing her to stumble and lose her balance. “hey!”

“stay tense. if i’d used all my strength, you would’ve hit the ground,” you giggle, helping her back into position. she blushes as you guide her, the warmth of your hands lingering on her waist, making her hyper-aware of every touch. “okay?” your breath hits teh back of her ear and she shivers.

“yeah, whatever.” she says before punching again, a better one for that matter.

“you’re actually not bad.”

“are you lying to me?”

“a little.” you joke, then smile at her. “you’re cute.” you say under your breath.

“what did you say?”

“nothing.”

hanni had heard you say it, but she doesn’t push further. 

–

the next time you pick hanni up, you decide to head out onto her campus and find your friends before picking her up. her class ends in thirty minutes anyway, and ningning had promised to buy you coffee the next time she had seen you.

you stand near your car with her, leaning against the brick wall beside her with your hand against it as you sip on the latte she had bought you. you stare at the cup, impressed by the quality.

“this is good.”

“i know right.” she agrees, taking another sip. “jesus, your lip is still busted.”

“is it?” you ask, feeling ningnings thumb grazing the injury. “it feels fine.”

“it’s still dark. heeseung got you good, didn’t he?” 

“shut up, i knocked him out, that’s what matters.” you roll your eyes and hear her laugh. she pushes your shoulder playfully, laughing even more.

hanni walks towards your car only to see you not inside, which throws her off. she looks around, scanning the area for a bit until her eyes land on you leaning against the wall with a girl. she feels her heart sink a bit just watching her touch your lip and push you lightly. you laugh at her and smile, making the weird feeling in her stomach even worse.

she walks over and taps your shoulder, earning the attention from the two of you as she clears her throat. 

“hey, i had trouble finding you.” hanni says, then looks at ningning, almost glaring. “who’s this?”

“oh, a friend.” you simply state, then wave at the girl beside you. “i got to get going, let’s catch up soon again, okay?

“mhm, see you n/n.” she winks at you and you have to fight back a gag. hanni feels like there’s a pit in her stomach.

the two of you get into your car, but it’s odd considering hanni hasn’t insulted you or even said anything. she just gets inside and looks out the window while you turn on the car, you raise a brow.

“is everything okay? bad day or…?”

“you into her?”

“what? no. don’t be ridiculous.”

“she kept touching your lip.” hanni scoots closer to the window, not daring to look at you. “i think she wants you.”

“you’re actually an idiot.” you sigh, shrugging her off as you start to drive away.

hanni stays silent the rest of the car ride, not saying much other than responding to your questions bluntly. you don’t know what’s gotten into her.

–

you’re very aware that it’s easy to piss hanni off, or maybe that’s just because it’s you. 

half the time it’s really just you being playfully irritating, she’s never actually been mad at you in months. but these days, ever since you picked her up that one time after hanging with ningning, she’s been distant, avoidant even.

hanni stays cooped up in her room, you even knock on her door after training to ask to grab a bite or really just anything. hanni’s always throwing the same excuses at you, she never did this before, but now her university work suddenly keeps her away from you.

you knock at her door again, opening it to find her in bed on her phone.

“you busy?”

“who’s asking.”

“what the hell is up with you?” you sigh, walking over to sit next to her. “i just wanted to ask if you wanted fruit. your grandpa cut some for me, like, so much. do you want to eat it together?”

hanni's grown fond of the way you look at her, something she never expected to happen. there's a warmth in your gaze that catches her off guard, especially when you give her those pleading eyes, head tilted just so, with your hair falling perfectly to frame your face. even then, as she shakes her head, she can’t ignore the little flutter in her chest. despite everything, there's an undeniable allure in the way you look at her now, one that she's finding harder to resist.

the whole reason she’s been giving you the cold shoulder is because the realization hit her as soon as you leather tend to your injuries: she likes you, she likes you so goddamn much. seeing you with ningning the other day made her realize that she likes you too much, so much that the fact that someone likes you, and you might like them – this ‘ningning’ makes her heartache.

for fucks sake, she’s a nursing student, she can’t be wallowing away because of a crush.

“not hungry.”

“have you even eaten?”

“yeah.”

“you liar.” you get up, looking at her worryingly and fighting back the words you want to say. “i’m heading out then, i’ll pick you up tomorrow after school.”

“you don’t have to.”

“i’m going to, don’t leave me hanging.” you give hanni a serious look, tightening your jaw before letting a small huff out. she avoids your gaze, turning on her side in her bed, then catching the sight of you leave as soon as your back is turned towards her.

-

you cannot believe what you’re watching unfold right now. 

hanni, hanni, hanni who you beat up a man for, is in the distance talking to that same man you beat up. heeseung is saying something to her that you can’t catch, hanni’s giving him a smile, and you would’ve gotten out of the car to smack him in the face if hanni weren’t already walking towards you.

she gets inside, you look at her like a police officer interrogating a criminal.

“was that him?”

“oh, it’s nothing.”

“hanni.” you start, but decide to close your eyes tight, poke your tongue at your cheek, and simply start to back out of your parking spot. “we’ll talk about this later, we’re going to my place.”

“yours?”

“we’re going to talk.”

“you’re abducting me.” hanni raises a brow, if it were coming from anyone else it would for sure be mildly concerning. “you’re kidnapping me.”

“yes.”

-

you two make it inside and as soon as hanni is in after you, you shut the door and cross your arms.

hanni heads over to your little kitchen and grabs a waterbottle from your fridge, then leans against the counter.

“what did i do?” you ask, walking over to her. “did i piss you off in the wrong way again? did i say something wrong?”

“what are you talking about?”

“don’t give me that, you’ve been avoiding me.”

“no i haven’t.”

“then why haven’t you been over to watch your stupid shows at my place in the past two weeks hanni.” you step closer, sizing up with her and drilling through her skull with your eye contact. “why haven’t we gone out for smoothies in the past two weeks, why haven’t we had a full conversation in two weeks, and hell, why were you talking to heeseung earlier.”

hanni gulps the water she’s sipped, turning her head away, but you use two fingers to redirect her attention back to you. hanni feels her breath shake when she exhales.

“i, it’s nothing. and besides, heeseung was just… asking me out, saying sorry and whatnot but i didn’t give him my number or anything.”

“so you rejected him?”

“i mean, i just told him i’ll think about it.”

you laugh, you laugh because this is fucking ridiculous. 

“he beat me up hanni, he punched a woman – me – right in the face and gave me a bruise. you said you’d ‘think about it?’” 

“what does it matter to you! you already have that ningning, why do you care about me?”

you pause, looking at her confused. “is all this shit because of ningning? she’s just my friend.”

“well you look at her like it’s something more!” hanni blurts, looking stressed.

“it’s not– hanni, you’re being ridiculous.”

“am i? because she was touching your lip and pushing your shoulder and it seemed like you enjoyed being around her sooooo much–”

“and because of this you’ve been avoiding me? and you’re really going to consider seeing a guy who beat my ass up.” you can’t believe what you’re saying, you can’t believe any of this.

“what, i can’t do my own shit now?”

she can’t, she can’t because only you should be doing that shit with her. you’re looking at her like she’s crazy, utterly confused as you scan her features. for a split second, she looks at you like she’s reconsidering things, like she’s longing or something. 

then it hits you, it hits you after you run through every mental note of hanni: she’s jealous, she’s jealous of you because she thinks you and ningning have something going on. 

you pause, stepping closer until there’s hardly any space between you. leaning in, you narrow your eyes at her, voice dropping low. “because,” you murmur, placing one hand on her waist while the other gently cups her jawline. her breath hitches, and you can feel the tension in her neck, but she doesn’t pull away. instead, she drops her gaze to your lips, then down to your collarbone, avoiding your eyes. you tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet your gaze. your eyes trace over her flustered expression – flushed cheeks and parted lips – and you let out a sigh. “because it should be me you’re thinking about seeing, asshole.”

her hand slides to your upper chest, sliding up to your collarbone before you kiss her.

you kiss her like you want her, like you need her and she kisses back with the same force. she reels you in closer and melts into you without thinking. hanni smells like pears and a sunday morning, you could die like this.

she parts to catch her breath, shivering when your hand trickles right under her shirt and your skin grazes against her own. her eyes are still closed when she says, “you’re not with ningning, are you?”

“i’d rather get hit by a bullet train than do anything with her.” you mutter, then pull her closer by the waist. “i want you to be the one i’m kissing, it’s always been you dumbass.”

hanni kisses you again, pulling you in with her arms wrapped around your neck. 

–

it’s been two hours, you’ve had your lips on hanni for at least two thirds of that time.

but now, on your couch after two long weeks, hanni is by your side leaning against you. she’s always been hesitant with physical touch when it came to you, but after making out with you – with you closer than ever to her, hovering above as her back rests on the cushion of your couch – she doesn’t have to be hesitant whatsoever.

“i don’t understand,” your lips are still swollen, you can feel the swell as you speak. “so is does he want her or not?” you ask, pointing to the two leads on the tv.

“he does but it’s like, complicated.”

“literally how.”

“she dated his brother, and i think she also likes girls.”

“you’re kidding.”

“i swear.” hanni says, eyes focused on the screen. 

“whatever.” you don’t really care, not as much as she does about this show. but that doesn’t stop you from putting an arm around her and looping her hair around your finger, then smiling to yourself. hanni scoots closer into you, and an episode later you’re laying on top of her, fighting sleep as her fingers comb through your hair and press into your scalp relaxingly.

(your grandma was onto something, maybe there was someone out there that you could love and be loved by just as much as her.)

[munchy-k]

danmei list that no one asked for (long post incoming)

ok so I've accumulated a pretty decent list of danmei that aren't as well known and I want to talk about them!! so here we go! these aren't in any particular order btw

Nan Chan

an aloof, listless immortal and a very hungry caterpillar fish demon go on an adventure to retrieve a runaway bell 🔔. and also they both have amnesia. CUE ANGSTY BACKSTORY REVEAL!!!! 🔪🔪🔪

I'm sure it's to no ones surprise that this is first because I'm a SLUT for nan chan. if nan chan has one fan it is ME and if there r no fans I am DEAD!! I love this novel so much it has the perfect combination of painful angst and sweet sweet lovin' !! the main couple's relationship makes me feel so warm and fuzzy inside 🥺👉👈 (probably because I am a touch love language girly and these bitches be touching!!!) and I LOVE the characters sm. especially my little meow meow Jing Lin and his adorable little stone figure. I live for the interactions between Cang Ji and the stone figure! it may be a little difficult to read the first time around since the plot gets a little convoluted but it all makes sense in the end! 10/10 really recommend!!

How to Survive as a Villain

transmigration plot! rich ceo gets transported to a novel as the villain emperor and gets buddy buddy with the novel's MC so he doesn't get killed. ends up buddying too close to the sun and accidentally becomes the leading lady. drama ensues!

this is another favorite of mine!! this one is another good mix of angst and romance and the MC is so funny and likeable. there are also two cute side couples which is always fun! (one of them is f/f so it gets extra brownie points with me🤭) its also not too complicated which makes it great for casual reading ^^ p.s. this one has an official eng tl now! its being published thru rosmei (like nanchan) so it has to be ordered thru a 3rd party distributor but I think its worth reading 👀

Living to Suffer/ Till Death Do Us Part

living to suffer: ancient wuxia style prequel where the characters meet as a humble doctor and member of a demonic sect and their fate intertwines. this one has a BE

till death do us part: early to mid 1900s setting sequel. the reincarnated characters meet again as a elementary school teacher and rich playboy and face the struggles of having a relationship. this one has a bittersweet ending

THIS...... OK THESE NOVELS... let me tell you something. this made me SOB. oh my god especially the ending of TDDUP. I saw a review saying "I honestly could believe there lived a Shen Liangsheng and a Ch'in Ching, and that they fell in love..." and hard agree because something about this story felt so real?? which made it all the more intriguing and heartbreaking!! its set around the time of the japanese invasion of china and the cultural revolution so it does talk a lot about politics but it wasn't a difficult read imo. BUT BE WARNED! there is a LOT of smut. (not rly vanilla either..) and the relationship does get pretty toxic at times 😬 but it gets better by the end of the book and the toxicity actually does add to the story and character development. if u give it a try please read the prequel (living to suffer) first!

After Being Forced to Marry the Evil Star General

a deputy prime minister MC who's powerful, high-maintenance, and hated by the public is arranged to marry a laid-back general who is much loved and praised (but also rumored to be cursed!). this is an arranged marriage + enemies to lovers novel

I'm actually in the middle of rereading this one rn 👀. I think this one is also good for casual reading since it isn't very complicated. in the beginning the interactions between the main couple r rly funny because they just clash all day long lol. its also got a little angst sprinkled in 😎👍 I did see some reviews saying that the MC is not likeable since he does some kinda bad things and he's stuck up but I still liked him idk 😭 I feel like his flaws made him more interesting

Married Thrice to Salted Fish

a doctor MC who only wishes to study medicine (and poison oop) gets arranged to marry a guy whos dying. turns out that guy has been taken over by a transmigrator! transmigrator ML then proceeds to die and come back as someone else.. more than once 😭

if you love a couple that schemes together then this is the novel for you! the MC in this book kinda reminds me of the MC from the book I mentioned right above. (these titles too long man 😅) I found the repeated "reincarnation" plot to be pretty interesting. the interactions between the couple were pretty amusing as well and since the ML is from modern times he randomly uses modern slang. MC even picks some lingo up from him loll

Xiao Jiu

about a 9th prince MC whos trying to win the heart of the emperor's cold and aloof bodyguard! call him the prince of rizz because it works eventually 😎 this is an age gap romance with a smidge of angst and political drama

this a short and sweet story! the ML is described as cold a lot but he actually becomes rly sweet and warm later on so he isn't one of those stone faced characters. I don't have much else to say about this besides "its cute, I like it" 😅

Guanshan Muyu

wife-chasing crematorium story! it's about a outlaw MC who's kidnapped by the very guy who betrayed him. ML wants to win MC's heart back but issues from the past cause a bunch of misunderstandings :( but it is a happy ending!!

man.... I haven't read a wife-chasing crematorium story before this and I was not prepared for the amount of ANGST. basically everyone is miserable for the entire damn time! 😭😭😭 but that's not to say it wasn't a good story!! all the suffering made the ending feel even sweeter 🥰 if you cry easily maybe keep a pack of tissues on hand when you read this 😂

I wrote this in my notes app while reading and I feel like it summarizes the ML pretty well bahaha 👇

"qi yan: my girl is mad at me. I hope I die"

It’s Not Easy Being a Master

transmigrator becomes the villainous shizun in a novel he read and attempts to avoid a bad ending but *gasp* the novels MC (ML) has been reborn with all the past memories!! MC tries to get close to ML while ML is like wtf is going on ! seems like a typical "transmigrated as a villain" type plot until suddenly it's not... 👀👀

this one was rly fun! there's a big plot twist that I found rly interesting and unique! very fresh!! fresh produce!! 🥒🫑🥕🍅 I also like the MC a lot he had a rly silly personality hehe. I think this novel is good for people who like solving mysteries alongside the characters since a lot of hints are dropped throughout

Golden Stage/ Terrace

arranged marriage between a court dog and a general who's become phsyically disabled. everyone knows that the two HATE each other... but do they really? 👀 no, it's not an enemies to lovers, but the other characters seem to think so! 🤭

great novel!! very good!! I love the dynamic between the main couple! they love to banter so their interactions are entertaining. there's a bit of political plot but it's nothing too complicated and the angst is minimal. I also like that one of the main characters is a ambulatory wheelchair user. this one also has a official eng tl now but I'm not sure from which publishing house

Sharing Rain and Dew

MC whos staying in the palace dies a painful death but then gets reborn several months in the past. he spends his time stressing about his impending death but for some reason the Emperor has suddenly become super clingy and doting

this one is very very short, only 5 chapters + 3 extras, but it's quite funny and cute. despite being so short the story is actually pretty interesting? good for a quick, casual read

list over!! I have a few more but this is already too long of a post 😭 I hope someone can find this helpful for some reading recs!

[eliteseven]

Soft Shadowheart x Tav Cottage-core Hc’s

These are specifically brainstorming hc’s for my fics (ft. Human/ex-noble Tav) but I feel like most of them are general enough:

*potential for spoilers, obvs

Tav has a really good relationship with Arnell and Emmeline. I think Shadowheart was already in love with her by the time they rescued her parents, but seeing Tav interacting with them makes her fall all over again. Tav is extra gentle w Emmeline and never lets her or Arnell do too much labor around the grounds. Idk this is just very important to me

Before they find the cottage, Tav scouts ahead while Shadowheart cares for her parents in the city.

Tav buys a mount just so Shadowheart’s parents can make the trip out to the cottage they want to renovate.

Tav camps outside at nights and offers the warmest (and only indoor) space to Shadowheart’s parents while they build up the rest of the cottage. Naturally, Shadowheart is incredibly endeared by this and camps out with her :) it’s just like old times for them

Shadowheart taking lazy cat naps in the sun (with her cats!) on Tav’s lap on the sunnier, warmer days.

It is only suitable that they be in close proximity to a lake for nightly “swimming lessons”.

Shadowheart LOVES PDA. She feels she has squandered so much of her life, plus Tav is a human and she only has so much time to spend with her- so yeah Shadowheart is all over that!! All the time! Stealing kisses from Tav while they work in the garden, slipping her hands into Tav’s back pocket, yanking Tav behind the barn and Tav stumbling out with kiss marks all over her face lol. (And trips to the city!! Shart is 100% on go mode anywhere)

Tav was raised a “proper lady” noble and she SQUIRMS bc she does not want to get caught absolutely devouring Shadowheart in front of her parents! Shadowheart knows this and takes the utmost joy in making Tav uncomfortable like that (affectionately)

When they get around to decorating, Shadowheart realizes she’s never had a space of her own in the cloister (aside from her tent when she travels)! I think she takes a lot of joy in self discovery. Exploring what she likes, realizing she’s so into color and vibrance after so many monotonous years. She also likes the domesticity of just…seeing her items next to Tav’s atop the dresser, or their shared garments in the wardrobe. She can’t remember the last time anywhere ever felt like home.

Tav regularly wakes up to the last remnants of her body heat being siphoned away by Shadowheart, Buttons, some of their cats, and any of the other animals they care for. Sometimes she also cannot breathe bc her gf’s hair is splayed out (and Shadowheart has looooong hair) all over her face. It brings her immeasurable joy and she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Shadowheart tastes Emmeline’s apple and plum pie and it brings back strong memories of childhood, so Tav takes it upon herself to get all kinds of recipes from Emmeline. In her spare time, she tries to surprise Shadowheart with them. Sometimes they prompt memories, sometimes they taste awful and they laugh so hard they make new memories 💕

Shadowheart’s mark eases up, but once in a while it causes her flashes of pain. If it occurs at night, Tav refuses to sleep. Moonlit walks, curling up by the fire, anything to keep Shadowheart’s mind off it, depending on how much pain she’s in. But the best distraction is usually between the sheets tbh. Shar whom??

Tav regularly beefs with that squirrel. She swears it loves Shadowheart and hates her (it does).

[aaatsuuu]

The Akatsuki when they find a bug😭

Don't even ask why I'm writing this. I'm bored and I thought it'd be funny💔💔

No tags are really needed. A little domestic, I guess(?)

Screaming and crying

Deidara and Hidan (maybe Itachi. JUST MAYBE) are definitely screaming divas. You'd hear Hidan shrieking over the critter, pleading for Kakuzu to get it off him. Depending on his mood, Kakuzu would either lazily swat it off with his thread or use it to teach Hidan a lesson😭. I feel like Deidara doesn't necessarily hate how the bug looks but how it *feels*. The way he can feel it crawling so lightly drives him crazy, and he's flailing his arms, shrieking, trying to get it off. I also feel like he's the type of guy to associate bugs with uncleanliness. It's even worse if it keeps crawling up on his skin. This guy is SHRIEKING. Sasori would just pick it up with a sigh, shaking his head as he examines it and letting the critter crawl around the wood of his puppet. Anyway, elaborating further on Itachi being the screaming diva, he wouldn't scream, but he'd definitely gasp. He's the type to see a bug and have an internal jumpscare. He'd try his best to hold back his noise in front of others, but if you look closely, you can see his eyes widen for just a split second. He wouldn't be scared. Just get an ick. Hidan definitely gets scared and icky though.

(OK, I know Deidara controls and makes his clay bugs, but I feel like he's just gonna say, "It's different! My beautiful pieces of art aren't some disgusting creepy crawlies!")

Touching the bug

Sasori and Zetsu are definitely the types to just pick up the bug and play with it😭. Black Zetsu wouldn't give a FUCK if it's flying or crawling, or even on him. White would just be like, "Oh, what a cute little creature..." and just examine it out of boredom. Sasori is definitely the type of kid to be playing with those roly-poly bugs. He would probably just think they're interesting and let it crawl all over him, and I can definitely see him using his puppet-master jutsu to fling a bug towards Deidara when he's nagging him LOL. Honestly, Kisame would be the type to touch it, too... idk he's just a goofy guy. He'd definitely find the holographic-looking bugs cool and be like, "Oh hey, Itachi, check this little guy out." I feel like Konan would also like to examine and touch the bug, but it honestly depends. She's definitely the type to play with lady bugs and butterflies, but she hates other bugs.

Kills it

Kakuzu. Definitely. He just does it just because he can and doesn't like them. Like even if it's a small ant, he'd just kill it with his finger or something. I feel like he hates moths since they eat clothes and stuff, "I don't want them near my clothes or money. It'd be a waste." I feel like Tobi's just the type of guy not to kill it because he doesn't like bugs, but just because he's weird😭. He's definitely one of those people you'd see go out of their way to mess up an ant hill. Kakuzu wouldn't really care if it was a nest or what. He'd only kill it if it's like a singular bug or something in his way/area.

Doesn't care

Pain wouldn't really give a damn. There is no need for a God to waste time on such a trivial thing, y'know. However, I feel like he hates flies and maggots since they remind him of his days as a war orphan (I don't need to elaborate further😭💔). I also feel like Itachi wouldn't care, too. I know I lumped him in with the scaredy-cat category, but it really depends on the bug tbh. Like he's cool with butterflies and SOME of the bugs Kisame shows him, but he wouldn't go out of his way for one.

[rainbow-journalist]

It's funny that I posted this, it's common for everyone to get sick at Christmas because of the cold, and... wow, what do we have here?

Oh my God, a pretty lady! My first time drawing Fubuki, so sorry if it didn't turn out well, I'm trying my best to draw the other characters in the game. I still want to try more, i hope I don't give up until then...

Anyway, I think Fubuki is cool too, it's really hard for me to dislike or hate a character, especially if they have some good relationship with the protagonist, which is usually my favorite character.

Her looks are beautiful, her voice is too, and her relationship with Yuma is funny, and I think her ships are good too. (Being a multishipper is painful, lol)

I also wanted to make her wear some Christmas clothes, and this supposed hot chocolate I miss it, hot chocolate in cold weather, is a great communication. I can just picture the Nocturnal Detective Agency dressed in Christmas attire, around the fireplace, Christmas tree, Christmas decorations, drinking hot chocolate, while spending time together. I think this would be the best Christmas present.

I would also like to ask, why do the girls who show interest in Yuma have braided hair and flowers on their heads?

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

I absolutely love your story’s!

What about one where the reader is has the tendency to just ignore their own emotions? Especially the negative ones. Like they’ll just pretend and act like they don’t exist until it’s some random Tuesday and they’re trying to stop crying in the kitchen cause they did something really small and stupid but it just happened to be the last thing they could take before being forced to cry? If it’s Donna’s emotions they try to be comforting and understanding, trying to encourage her to reach out for comfort and support and it’s just the exact opposite when it comes to their own emotions lol

Yesss!!! Here it is!!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes :)))

Emotions

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of depression,angst, mental health problems...

Word count: 3,931

Summary: You were not able to say what you feel, and it was getting worse

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!! Oh, well, just a reminder: if you feel sad, talk to someone, look for help, in this world there are a lot of amazing people wanting to help you :))) Requests are open!! I love you all!!!

You opened your eyes. It was just another day.

You could say that you had been lucky in life. Your family was never rich. It was never more than just one more in the village. Nothing special, nothing remarkable. Get up, work, pray to Mother Miranda and so on constantly.

Why could a routine like that be called luck? Very simple, you found a way to get out of that monotonous and boring life.

You probably wouldn't have been so lucky if you had approached the Beneviento estate that cold winter day.

Meeting Donna was a refreshing change, the discovery that the Lords were also human.

Monster, psychopath and reclusive. Those were the names the villagers referred to her by. You had no way of knowing if it was true or not. You feared her like the others, until you met her.

She was a woman with problems, mysterious, shy, and above all, very far from the concept of monster. It was almost like looking at yourself in a mirror: emotional problems, real rejection of any human relationship. That two antisocial people like you, soon could not live without each other was curious.

How you fell in love didn't matter, it was just fate, or so you thought, or so you liked to think.

Your new life was much better than the previous one, but, just as they told you when you were a little girl: when you try to run away from your problems, you take them with you.

A truth that was difficult for you to understand, due to the feeling of being happy with the woman you loved. The ghosts of your own tribulations appeared to torment you soon.

You were never particularly good when it came to understanding your own emotions. Pain, sadness, anger... Everything that your mind considered as something negative, as something that could prevent people from appreciating you, loving you, were always hidden in a dark corner of your feelings. If you hid them, you couldn't feel them. Or so you thought.

Perhaps that constant joy and the apparent desire to live and enjoy the moment were what caught Lady Beneviento's attention. A wandering soul, with its own emotional problems, could find light in someone like you, in someone who, apparently, didn’t suffer, didn’t hate; someone who was happy, even if it was just a facade.

With a sigh, you sat up, letting your feet dangle over the edge of the bed. You were alone, Donna wasn't sleeping next to you and you wondered why you didn't miss her, or why you didn't need to seek some comfort in her arms. You still denied to yourself that you were going through a bad time, an existential crisis and the negative feelings that were taking up more and more space in your mind.

“Angie, where is Donna?” You asked the doll, who remained next to you, as if she could know that there was something wrong with you, that something was going through your head, torturing you.

“She's gone to take a shower,” the puppet answered, studying your expressionless look, that serene look that you naturally forced yourself. You were so used to doing it that it didn't even take any effort.

“She hasn't woken me up?” You asked, rubbing your eyes. Why hadn't she woken you up? Didn't she want to have to put up with you? Why?

Again paranoia and fear took over your thoughts.

Angie simply shrugged, getting off the bed and leaving the room.

No, you couldn't think that somehow you were to blame. You were always happy. In front of her you were always happy. Was she ignoring you? It was very unlikely, but your thoughts were far from reality.

After staring at the wooden floor for longer than you'd like, you got out of bed, looking at yourself in a mirror. Smile: ready, tears: hidden.

You walked through the dark hallways, listening to the characteristic noise of a shower. At least Donna was there. Why were you thinking that she had left you or something? You hadn't done anything for it. That depressive state you had been living in lately was getting worse and worse.

“Donna?” You asked, opening the bathroom door.

There was no response, just a sob.

The woman you loved was there, but she was not well. Her body was curled up under the water. Poor Donna had suffered another crisis and you hadn't even noticed. Once again, you had to put aside your own problems. She needed you. She needed the cheerful and understanding (Y/N). It's not like you needed her comfort, or so you thought.

“Donna, my love...” You whispered, approaching the shower and crouching next to her sad body. “Honey, what's wrong?”

“(Y/N),” the doll maker sobbed, looking up a bit. “I… I don't…”

You sighed, kneeling next to her and letting her throw herself into your arms. The scratch marks on her skin betrayed a panic attack, one of the many that poor Donna frequently suffered.

“Hey, darling... Come on, calm down,” you whispered affectionately, turning off the tap and letting her body settle into yours. “Have you suffered another crisis?” You asked, with your clothes soaked, but without stopping hugging her.

She nodded embarrassedly, clutching the fabric of your nightgown.

How could a stupid existential crisis be more important than Donna's problems? You felt selfish, you felt like you were putting problems typical of a 22-year-old woman ahead of you, instead of hers, instead her own emotions that tended to get out of control.

At least she showed her emotions.

“Come on, that's it, honey. It's okay, I'm here with you, do you hear me? Nothing and no one can hurt you. Come on, Donna, stop crying...”

You hugged her silently, starting to feel cold because of your wet clothes. Donna cried inconsolably, for no reason other than the demons she was born with. How ironic. She cried for no reason and you, with more than one, were incapable of doing so.

“Come on, honey, let's shower and have breakfast, okay?” You said affectionately, to which she nodded erratically, letting herself be carried by your arms.

Most days were like this: a small crisis always solved by your eternal patience and then... Then the tranquility of that life full of love, silent gestures, kisses and caresses.

You didn't understand what exactly the reason for your regret was, but it became more and more present in your emotions. At least in the ones you wanted not to be seen.

The cold of winter washed over your body as you left the house, resting your cup of coffee on the porch railing. If it was winter… That meant you had been with Donna for at least a year. You were so happy that it barely seemed like a sigh, but repressing your sadness or your worries so much had taken its toll on you.

“(Y/N),” a soft voice interrupted your lost gaze towards infinity. Suddenly the cold became much more present. How long have you been out there?

Your expressionless face gave a fake smile, one that you were already an expert at.

“Donna,” you sighed, letting yourself be hugged from behind and closing your eyes. Her hugs were relaxing, calm, although your problems began to cloud the emotions you felt, the positive ones, the only ones you were capable of showing.

“What are you doing out here, tesoro? It's very cold,” she asked in a soft, tender tone, as if she hadn't just been crying uncontrollably in the shower a moment ago.

No, in no way you envied the ease with which Donna cried, showed her sorrows or her weaknesses. But you wondered how she could feel after having let out everything that tormented her, why she had no problem talking to you about the things that made her sad, that made her shake and lose her mind. Surely you had the real problem.

It was time to smile even wider.

“Oh, well,” you said, gently grabbing the hand around your waist. “This morning it was very difficult for me to get up,” you lied, letting her body sway yours slightly.

“I know, you were so pretty asleep that I didn't want to wake you up,” the woman in black whispered, kissing your cheek. There was certainly nothing to tell you that she had suffered a terrible crisis not long ago.

You laughed fakely knowing that, although you had wanted to get up, the invisible chains of your emotions prevented you from doing so. You wanted to never get up, to spend your life in the warm embrace of the sheets, where you wouldn't have to pretend, where maybe, just maybe, you could cry, you could be able to cry.

“Is there ever a time when you don't think I’m pretty?” You asked trying to joke with the naturalness you had learned to fake.

“Mmm,” Donna murmured, kissing your neck innocently, like she always did. “No”

You laughed, this time genuinely, letting your sadness and anguish camouflage themselves again with ease. Maybe it had just been a bad time, maybe you had the feeling of being sad when in reality you weren't, you never were.

If you had stopped to reflect, you would have realized that this was impossible.

Time continued to pass and your desire to get out of bed decreased more and more. There was something inside you that was dying to come out, but you were unable to know what it was, unable to seek comfort that you yourself didn't think you needed.

And so another week passed. Tuesday the 24th, that's what it said on an old calendar. You and Donna were happy. That weird feeling had was nothing to do with her, but everything to do with you. Sadness turned into anguish, anguish from not knowing what to do with those negative emotions, from not being able to express them properly. The smile and your apparently calm and happy attitude were still the protagonists of your life.

“Do you like it?” Donna asked, unsure as always that her food wasn't good enough for you.

The day had started like many others, but, for some reason, that pressure you felt in your chest had grown out of proportion.

“Well, of course, you know I love the way you cook, Donna,” you said with a tender smile, oblivious to the pressure you felt in your body.

She smiled and lowered her head, embarrassingly pleased. You looked at her for a moment and continued eating.

“Oh...” you said when you went to get the jug of water that was always on the table. “I forgot to get water,” you said, without giving it importance but with a knot in your stomach. What was happening to you?

“It's okay, honey, I'll go down and get it,” Donna said softly, wiping herself with a napkin.

“No!” You shouted, without knowing why, making her turn the head sharply towards you, her eye wide open. “I... I... I'll go down, it's my fault,” you said to try to fix that shock that came out of nowhere.

“Don't worry, tesoro. We all make mistakes," she said, with an understanding smile.

You tried to control your breathing. You were nervous, upset about something.

“Yeah, but I make them more than anyone else,” you whispered, as if the truth, a truth that was tormenting your mind, suddenly left your lips.

“What? Why do you say so?” Donna asked, with an air of concern as you walked past her. Her hand stopped you, settling on your arm. You shook your head, not quite sure why your throat was stinging.

“Oh, no, it's nothing, Donna. It was just a joke,” you said, taking a deep breath and flashing a sincere smile, heading to the elevator.

You walked slowly through the dark hallways, aware that something inside you was dying to come out.

“Okay...” You murmured, placing the jug under the faucet. The solitude of that kitchen gave you a contradictory feeling of tranquility and melancholy.

You were thirsty, so before lifting the jug you poured yourself a glass, with the bad luck that your thoughts distracted you enough for the liquid to overflow.

“Oh, shit,” you protested, pushing the jug away, which made it even worse, causing your clothes to become soaked with the liquid of life. “Fuck!”

You screeched, making your voice bounce off the rickety walls of the old kitchen.

“Fuck!” You screamed again, hitting the counter with your fist, hurting yourself.

It seemed stupid, but suddenly the burning in your throat increased to such a point that an unfamiliar moisture began to be felt in your eyes.

After so much time, so much repression, empty mornings and strange thoughts… Finally, you were crying.

The reason? You didn't know specifically.

You were happy. Your life was going well. Donna was a sweetheart despite her problems. She loved you, you loved her. No, Donna Beneviento was not the problem. You were the problem.

All your life you had been wondering what you contributed to the world, what the meaning of your life was. You never knew how to answer. Why did you live in that village? What would have happened if you had been born somewhere else? Would you have been happier? Would your life have been better, or worse? What would your life have been like if you had never met Donna?

They seemed like stupid questions, which came to light with the simple act of spilling a glass of water. Maybe that's what was happening to you. Negative emotions filled your soul, until, like that water, they ended up overflowing.

What was it that made you special? What virtues did you have? How serious were your flaws?

That existential crisis followed you throughout your life almost like the B side of your own shadow. Present, but barely visible. Did you really deserve the life you led? What had you done to deserve it?

No, you didn't deserve that life. You hadn't done anything memorable, you didn't think you were an angel, a good person who cared about others. No, you weren't special. You were a villager like so many others, a strange villager, attracted to women, considered a freak by your own family.

Yes, everyone despised you for the way you were, for being different from the rest. Since your emotions were not predisposed to come to light, you were not able to realize that this was the reason for your depression.

Everyone despised you, except Donna. She loved you, she understood you even though she didn't know she had to. Your cheerful attitude and tireless smiles surely made her believe that you were always a happy girl, that suffering had not happened in your life.

But that wasn't true, it never was true. You had realized it too late.

You had no talents, no great aptitudes for anything. You didn't know how to paint, to work wood or to care of flowers. The only thing you knew how to do was exist and you weren't even good at that.

 That sudden revelation made you unable to stop crying, making everything that you were hiding inside appear in front of you like a tornado ready to destroy everything. Crying wasn't something you did, something you wanted but at that moment, you couldn't stop doing it.

You turned, hands covering your eyes, the emotions you had so repressed eating away at you from within. You wanted to stop crying, but you couldn't.

Your body leaned, lowering itself to the floor with your back resting on the counter. You didn't want to move. You couldn't do anything but shed tears tirelessly.

“(Y/N)?” Your lover's voice reached your ears with difficulty “Is everything okay? The food getting cold...” Donna stopped talking when she turned the corner and saw your pathetic crying on the floor.

“Donna, leave me alone, please,” you said sobbing, not wanting to look at her face.

She remained silent, watching you as if she were seeing something extraordinary.

“Why are you crying, tesoro? I had never seen you…” She murmured confusedly, approaching cautiously.

“It doesn't matter, okay? Go away, Donna, please,” you continued sobbing, looking away from her.

The woman in black approached slowly, putting a hand on your shoulder and studying your eyes hurt by crying.

“But, but tesoro. If, if something happens to you I want to...” Donna insisted, crouching down next to you and caressing your cheek.

Not even her innocent comfort could stop the horrible feelings passing through your body.

“Donna, please, I don't want you to see me like this, go away,” you said again, pushing her hand away from your face, which made her frown with a confused look.

“I want to help you,” she said, with a pleading tone, unable to calm your discomfort even in the slightest.

You shook your head. Another rare feeling, anger, shot through your nerves.

“Help me? I don't want your help!” You shouted abruptly, unpleasantly. “You're not even able to help yourself! So, no, Donna, go away.”

The doll maker stood up frightened by your words, looking at you with sadness and deep pain.

Your nerves calmed when you realized how unfair you had been to her.

“Donna, please go. Go before I say something stupid again,” you said in a low tone, your voice broken by crying.

She shook her head slowly, nervous but calm at the same time. No, she wasn't going to move from there.

“I'm sorry, (Y/N), but I'm not going anywhere,” she whispered, bending down and sitting next to you without speaking, with her gaze away from yours, but without separating from you.

Time passed slowly. Your sobs wouldn't stop, no matter how much you wanted them to. Donna was still there, sitting next to you without speaking, not saying anything that would cause your pent-up anger to explode against her.

Her hand moved slowly towards yours, which had left your face to press tightly against the floor. At first you resisted her hold, but the softness of her skin against yours immediately relaxed your muscles.

You opened your eyes for a moment, looking at your clasped hands. Donna was there, silently, with you. Despite your harsh words, she was still willing to help you. You didn't know whether to feel better or worse about it.

You searched her gaze. Her head was leaning against the furniture, tilted up, seeming almost inert, caressing your hand without even moving or trying to get closer. You couldn't tell if it was because she really didn't know what to do, or because she was giving you the time you so needed.

“I lied to you, Donna,” you said when your crying slowed down enough for you to be able to speak clearly.

She turned her head towards you, but her expression remained unperturbed, although you noticed some nervousness in her breathing. Surely she had to control herself at those words. Miraculously, she did.

“I'm not the person you think I am...” You continued talking, resting your head on the furniture in the same way as her, shaking it and looking at the ceiling. “I was never… I was never happy. I didn't have as many friends as you think. I didn't have any friends. I've never been good at anything I've done. I tried to be a useful girl and I just failed and failed...”

She nodded, but looking away from you.

“I always... They always told me that a smile is the best weapon against sadness, that if I smiled and pretended to be happy I would end up being. I've spent my life pretending that there was nothing that could make me stop laughing.”

Donna nodded again, listening patiently to a confession you didn't even know you had to confess.

“I have, I have always had problems expressing my emotions. I know it doesn't seem like it but... That's right. It's not that hard for me to laugh when I feel like it, or... Even to love you or show you that I love you, because that, Donna, is the only thing I'm sure of.”

The woman in black looked at you, a sad smile appearing on her face, not wanting to interrupt, not wanting to let your hand go.

“I've been repressing my sadness, my anger and... and I feel I can't take it anymore,” you said, sobbing again, leaning your body towards her shoulder, which she gladly offered to you, bringing your body closer to hers, sighing deeply.

“Tell me, (Y/N), what makes you sad?” Donna asked, with a tender voice, with the softest voice you had ever heard, putting her other arm around your body, to not let your demons take you with them.

“I... I...” You stammered, letting yourself be calmed by her lavender perfume, letting her arms protect you from everything bad that harassed you. “I don't feel like I worth it.”

Donna sighed again, kissing your head lovingly and hugging you even tighter.

“That’s not true.”

“Is not? Tell me Donna, why would you love someone like me?”

“Why would you love me?” She asked back, her lips glued to your hair, her arms giving you the warmth your trembling body needed. “I'm not... I'm not fine... I'm just giving you problems.”

“At least you can express what you feel,” you said, lowering your head to her chest, comforted by the beating of her heart.

“I wish I couldn't do it that way,” Donna whispered, her voice breaking too, tormented by her own problems.

“I wish I were able to say what I feel,” you whispered, adorning that phrase of hers with your own, with those problems so disparate and so similar.

“You’re doing it now... (Y/N). You’re doing it with me, and you can always do it,” Donna said, lifting your chin so that your teary eyes could look at her.

A sincere smile crossed your face as that revelation, hidden by your negative emotions, made its way into the darkness of your mind.

“I can always do it...” You repeated, changing crying for a smile, changing sadness for joy. Not a fake joy, a real one, a genuine one. The pressure in your chest decreased as if by magic, as if a few simple words contained your negative feelings. But this time it was different. It wasn't an armored door that enclosed them, but rather one that was open, that would let your torments out whenever you needed it.

You remained silent and moved a bit to be at the level of her lips, kissing them tenderly, with gratitude.

“You are the best thing that has happened to my life,” you said in a low voice, merging into a hug with Donna, letting both of you show what you felt.

“You are the only thing that has happened in my life,” she said, smiling, with the moisture on her face revealing a tear that ran down her cheek.

“Donna...” You sighed, separating yourself a little, squeezing your eyes tightly, feeling a comforting release.

“Listen to me, (Y/N),” she said, with a more serious tone, cupping your face in her hands. “Promise me that you will always tell me what you feel. It doesn't matter if it's a bad thing or a good thing. I... I will do everything possible to always help you. I will always be with you, my love...”

You nodded, feeling the need to cry again, but this time, with joy.

“You will always be with me...” You whispered, repeating her words.

“Always,” the woman in black reaffirmed.

[szynkaaa]

Zhu Bajie and the Violet Spider (and i guess all the other tragic love stories)

Alright, finished Chapter 4 in my NG+ and here are some of my thoughts, ramblings and musings about Zhu Bajie and the Violet Spider. Also will be going with Black Myth Wukong's version of JTTW

Everything is under cut because long text

What we know:

ZBJ was an Admiral in the Celestial Court, there was a maid working there who was crushing on him and took care of him at some point. ZBJ gets cast out from the court into the mortal realm and turns into a pig. Maid tries to follow him, but gets turned into a spider because the word pig (猪zhū) and spider (蜘蛛Zhīzhū) sound similar and she thought he turned into a spider.

The pilgrims run into White Bone Demon, who turns into 3 mortals and each time SWK beat them down. It is not explained how they fell in love or why, just that he was in love with her. The subtitles from the scene:

ZBJ: "It was her tricks that made Master drive Wukong away" Old Monkey: "On White Tiger Ridge, he forsook his lover. Three times he broke her into pieces, convincing himself his heart would ache no more. Yet, as you must know, he had never let go of her. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so eager to get away from the Buddahood he attained."

Side note, in CN the old moneky says "他倒是狠心绝情", which translates to "he was very cruel and heartless".

Like all the other demon in the book they wanted to eat Tripitaka because they were convinced that would grant them immortality. In JTTW, White Bone Demon transforms herself into a young lady, then elder woman and then old man, pretending to ask for help. Each time SWK was able to see through her disguise and he struck them down. Tripitaka thought he was killing innocent mortals so he sent SWK away, said he wasn't one of his disciple anymore. iirc ZBJ was not helping lol.

I hope the DLC will shed some more information on the romance, but I also understand if they don't elaborate further. According to some redditors the White Bone Demon romance is a nod towards another game Game Science worked on where SWK and White Bone Demon where a thing.

Later on in their journey, ZBJ sees a bunch of pretty women bathing. He turns himself into a fish. The Violet Spider recognizes him and I guess they reconcile?? or not really because the spiders also try to kidnap and eat Tripitaka and SWK leaves ZBJ to take care of the spiders, he killed everyone except the Violet Spider, who had to eat the remains of her sisters in order to survive.

Speculation from my side is if SWK knew about ZBJ history with the Violet Spider. I think it would be interesting for them to have a conversation about it at some point, since both of them had demon lovers who tried to eat their master so they were forced to kill them (except ZBJ spared the Violet Spider). Maybe SWK wishes he had that option too instead of living with the pain later on. A lot of wiggle rooms for interpretations and headcanons.

lot of shit happens. they finish their travel, SWK attains buddahood. Realizes he hates the court life, also cannot let go that he had to kills his past lover. just wants to chill with his homies and be back on his mountain. and the circlet is still there. hatches his masterplan to die so he can be reborn and be truly free

Throughout the game and dialogues in the game, we know that there were several monkeys/Destined One attempting to retrieve all 5 artifacts and become SWK. The way I understood is, if you reach the bad ending, the cycle starts a new. a new monkey will arise and try again until said monkey reaches the True Ending.

It is very heavily implied that the 4th spider was in love with one of the reincarnation, and they were supposed to get married or have gotten married. but alas monke has to continue his main quest, and he never returned back to her.

My question is, do each Destine One reincarnation retain memories from previous Destined One? Does "our" Destined One know who she is and what he means to her? fun things to also think about.

Oh yeah also pretty sure ZBJ and the Violet Spider got married in chapter 4 LOL. Very questionable marriage since ZBJ was not in a place to consent to it and was pretty much forced into it. But she came out wearing a red wedding dress and then sisters were telling him what to do and not to do, and they were also saying he is the one mother wants all those years even though they disagree with the choice. And then later on before the Violet Spider boss battle, iirc ZBJ says she should have just eaten him before the vows and stuff. Either she mates and then eats her husbands LOL. and her daughters also feast on the newly wed husband.

Heavily implied that the youngest spider kid is ZBJ and Violet Spiders kid. At least that's how I interprested the scene, why else would she show him the youngest daughter? Also all the daughters were born after ZBJ killed Violet Spider's sisters and left her to die, as they say it all happened before they were born so they cannot understand mother's obsession

My 2 cents: None of the spider sisters share the same father. I believe that the Violet Spider would find a new mate, get married, consumate the marriage and then eat the husband. Probably got pregnant from each marriage. It seems like the spider sisters are also very familiar with the ritual ( also LOL would the 4th spider sister have eaten the Destined One??). I also thought at first that Chapter 4 is the first time since JTTW Zhu Bajie bumped into the spider sisters and Violet Spider, but after my NG+ playthrough I realize that would not make much sense. If the youngest daughter really is their kid, then that means they must have met before the current event and JTTW.

We know that this is also not the first Destined One ZBJ met: when we rescue him in chapter 3, he says something along the line "great another mute" - implying he has helped other DO before. Which also means he has visited the spider lair with the DO before, so my guess it is very likely that he may have done the deed with the Violet Spider, and this is how the youngest daughter was conceived? And then he and the Destined One left once again, leaving the 4th Sister and Violet Spider behind again. I think that this would also "make sense" why the Violet Spider was so obsessed and hung up on ZBJ in chapter 4. It couldn't have been "just" what happened in JTTW, some more things must have happened in-between. ZBJ constantly picking bros before hoes I guess.

Fan speculation is also that the reason why ZBJ cannot be with the Violet Spider is to protect them from the Celestial Court.

We have 4 different love stories in this game: SWK and White Bone Demon, Zhu Bajie and the Violet Spider, Destined One and 4th Sister and then the Bull Demon King and Princess Iron-Fan.

I don't haven't started my chapter 5 playthrough yet but the gist I got is that their story isn't a happy one either and controlled by the Celestial Court. It sounds like none of the love stories have a happy ending and in one way or another, the Celestial Court is the cause for it. SWK and White Bone Demon doesn't fully fall into that category, but in JTTW it is said that all the demons they encounter were all orchestrated by Buddha, where they have to face 81 trials. Putting that into BMW's version of JTTW, technically a higher being still interfered with their love story and "forced" SWK to kill his lover, if they put White Bone Demon into their way. Again, this is just my musing and headcanon, and nothing of this is confirmed.

This is my opinion, but I personally love that Game Science gave both SWK and DO and ZBJ a love story, some more obvious than the others. It just adds a more human touch to the overall story of the game that I personally love.

Now excuse me while I go try to smooch a stone monkey.

[twopoppies]

Dearest Gina, what is gay innuendo in H’s sticks and stones tshirt? I don’t quite get it, the only memo I get is BDSM context.

Are you talking about my tags? Sometimes, I just tag things so I can find them again. So it's not entirely accurate. It was more that it had to do with sex. And if he's having sex, it's gay sex. Thus, gay innuendo. LOL! It's just how my brain works. Sorry to throw you off.

Anyway, the lyrics are from Rhianna's song S&M

Sticks and stones may break my bones But chains and whips excite me

She said the song has a double meaning and is also about her love/hate relationship with the media and how sometimes pain can be pleasurable. Harry wore it at the height of the Holivia drama. So, there's that.

Rihanna told Rolling Stone about her interest in bondage and other sadomasochism activities, themes central to "S&M": "I like to take charge, but I love to be submissive ... being submissive in the bedroom is really fun. You get to be a little lady, to have somebody be macho and in charge." – Wikipedia

So... H gets to be "a little lady" 😉 gay innuendo.

[leserattevirginie]

Crown of Shadows by C.S. Friedman

Genre: Sci-Fantasy Star Rating: 4,25 ⭐️

Plot: ⬜️ Plot holes big enough for a herd of elephants ⬜️ I think I’ve read this before. (Unoriginal to the max.) ⬜️ No plot, just vibes ⬜️ Enjoyable but not super memorable. ✅ You have my undivided attention. ⬜️ Mind = Blown

Characters: ⬜️ Mary Sue is in the house! ⬜️ These are cardboard cut-outs. ⬜️ Good main cast, but the rest is forgettable at best. ⬜️ Generally well written. ✅ Complex ⬜️ What do you mean characters? These feel like real people!

Personal Enjoyment: ⬜️ DNF ⬜️ Somebody free me from this hell (but also no, I won’t DNF) ⬜️ WTF did I just read??? ⬜️ I don’t like it, but I also don’t hate it. ⬜️ It’s a good book but I just never want to pick it back up. ⬜️ No strong feelings either way. ⬜️ Enjoyable read ✅ What a page turner! This is fun! ⬜️ I think I’m in love ⬜️ (new) all time favourite

World Building: ⬜️ This takes place in our world. ⬜️ Worldbuilding what worldbuilding? ⬜️ This feels like a TV set. ⬜️ Not super deep, but present. ✅ Detailed, believable. ⬜️ You bet every single ant has its own 100 page backstory!

Pacing: ⬜️ drags/is rushed in all the wrong places ⬜️ Inconsistent ⬜️ something undefinable feels off ⬜️ I don’t love it it but it fits the book perfectly. ✅ Good/no complaints ⬜️ Amazing! Could not put this down!

Writing: ⬜️ This is painful ⬜️ I’m cringing ⬜️ Not great, but not bad either. ⬜️ Neutral (Didn’t really notice.) ✅ Elegant but not overly flowery. ⬜️ So beautiful I actually stopped and noticed it. ⬜️ I’m not sure if this is just a bad translation. ⬜️ I’m not confident enough in my language skills for this language to comment on the quality of the writing.

Wow, I can't believe I've finished the series this fast! That alone says a lot about how much I liked it :) As usual, here's a bunch of rambly thoughts:

For the most part I feel like I did about the other two books - plot is fine but character work and world building take the cake. The plot was still fairly straight-forward, but I will say that it was a bit more complex with the dual plot-lines. A bit I don't think I've mentioned before that I love: due to the set up we get sorcery and sword type stuff but also tourism, instant soup, insurance companies, etc. (Did I imagine the aspirin?) The mix between modern and old timey things is great!

Unfortunately I also still feel the same about the treatment of women within the series. Sure, the argument could be made that maybe it's just Damien who's a bit misogynistic in his POV, and Gerald is just generally The Most Terrible Person ™ around, but it still doesn't sit right with me. Especially since we start the book with Gerald's lunch committing suicide. Was that weird bit about Damien's landlady necessary? Was there no other way to explain how Iezu perceive the world other than "Holy shit can you believe that middle aged lady dares to think of herself as attractive, lol what a hag" ?? But hey, Narilka is still alive! I suppose if you exist to redeem the Gerald clone you get to live. (I can't believe I forgot poor Almea in my last rant. The fridging that started it all! ...is it still fridging if the man murders her himself??)

As for the plot lines, on one hand I really, really enjoyed getting more POVs! ...maybe just not the ones we actually got xD The patriarch was probably my favourite, even if almost every second I spent inside his head was incredibly frustrating. Some of that may be due to Calesta's influence, but for the most part it's probably just him being the fantasy-pope. There's a reason I left the church xD That being said, I appreciate that he actually whole-heartedly believes what he is preaching. The thing that confuses me the most about the church is its stance on working the fae. As I understood it, it was designed to focus the fae, making it a bit less dangrous for the general population. And also providing humanity with the concentrated power of the beliefs and faith of thousands if not millions, which could eventually be used for space travel. (Or something in that vein.) Anyway, I thought it was very clear that they are still manipulating the fae, just on an enormous scale, and disapproved of private sorcery. But at times it kind of felt like the patriarch sort of forgot that (or deliberately repressed it?). All those "no, this isn't witchcraft, this is a miracle from God!" moments felt so odd because - of course its the same thing? You literally created your God yourselves by those exact same means??? Oh well, church is hypocritical, fork found in kitchen.

Andrys and Narilka I actually liked well enough, as long as they weren't on page together. Or thinking about each other. Actually, scratch that. I liked Narilka when she wasn't being compared to teacups or dolls! But then she had to fall in love with Andrys after talking to him...twice? Andrys... I mean he was there and relevant to the plot. I do feel bad for him, but there wasn't really that much to him other than (admittedly horrific) trauma and an uncanny resemblance to his great-great ....-great grandpa. And drugs to cope with all of that. Small pet peeve: the nickname Andri. WHY. You're literally just taking of one letter (and changing the other because....aesthetics??)

On to more enjoyable ramblings!!! The Damien-Gerlad dynamic in this book was just *chef's kiss* You can't just hit me with the "You changed me" speech that early in the book, I was not prepared xD The many ways in which we see the depth of their...friendship... were just sweet (especially post-hell), and such a contrast to the first book! (Well, Damien still tells us constantly how hot Gerald is, that hasn't changed at all xD My dude literally described his very platonic bestie as "aesthetic perfection". A few pages after Karril rerminds us of how very straight he is, of course.) Now maybe at this point my rose coloured shipper glasses are just glued to my face, but that moment when he tried to explain how Almea supposedly feels also slightly came across as him projecting just a bit. (Gerald is right, Almea (or the Almea-thing) has every right to be pissed, honestly she should have shown up with ghostly divorce papers. Or maybe Damien was right and she just wanted to see him jump into a volcano for a good cause, who knows.) There are some things I would have loved to see more of: - the mental link between Damien and Gerald was criminally under-used, imo. Did it change Damien physically somehow, since Gerald no longer felt cold to him? Is he now part vampire for ever xD (And dear god that whole bit about taking the Hunter into his body, whyyy xDD) - honestly I would have loved to see Gerald readjusting to being human (and being incredibly annoyed about it) a bit more. It's been 900+ years, surely there's stuff he's forgotten? I mean he spent the vast majority of his life being the stuff of nightmares! - Gerald honestly wanting and trying to redeem himself (sure, he was ready to sacrifice himself in the end, but it kind of struck me as a last minute decision. And you can't tell me being the first to kill a Iezu and saving the world didn't also appeal to his ego). But I get that that would take another 10 books, minimum

Damiens break with the church was a long time coming, and handled well, I think. Oddly enough, priest never struck me as a job that you can just quit.

I just remembered about Gerald's apprentice (Amoril?). What an idiot. I would have loved to know how he came to be the Hunter's apprentice though. Can you apply for scolarships? Anyway, trashing a library is unforgivable in my book ;)

Oh, and Hell! Hell was surprisingly meh to me, but I did appreciate the insight into how the Iezu operate (which was probable the main point of that scene anyway). Love that Damien could just reason with the literal devil. (But the concept of the Devil as a non-unified entity was actually cool though). How did it take Damien so long to understand what the mountain of dead women could possibly be. Neither he nor the reader are stupid enough not to get it. Friedman usually doesn't hold our hand and over explains in the series, why start now?? Shock factor? I doubt anyone cared enough about Sisa? Sasi? for that to work.

OK I promise I'm coming to an end soon but guys. Guys. The epilogue. The freaking epilogue. What a trip that was xDDD 1) The Wedding. Karril POV was... certainly something! We now officially know that not only women find Andrys attractive. (Take that, Damien "idk, he's probably attractive to women but also aesthetic perfection" Vryce. Did I need to know about potential Iezu sex that only benefits the (currently presenting as) male partner? No, not really. Also WTF was that scene with Andrys' ex lovers. I know we're supposed to see and rejoice in the fact that Andrys is no longer a playboy, but did we really need that "women hating women for the benefit of some hot guy" thing in here? I swear there were bits in the series where I could have sworn it was written by man (derogatory). At least Narilka remained unbothered. Presumably moisturised. Very happy and in her lane. Focused on her wedding, as she should be. She gets to live on to be compared to countless fragile things made of porcelain, whether she wants it or not. 2) Freaking Riven Forrest. I was cackling throughout that whole bit. Not only does he get to hunt and terrify people just like his father, he also runs a successful (?) fishing rod business on the side. (I know, I know, hunting supplies in general, the rods just kind of stuck out to me). The fact that the intelligent prey he looks forward to hunting the most is once again a woman (even if it is an abusive, horrible woman) tells us exactly what part the Iezu mother chose to take from the OG Hunter, huh. Which is great for Gerald, but a weird choice on her part?? But dear God the last bit. He keeps a portait of Gerald above his fireplace??? I finally completely lost it at "Here's to you, dad" xDDD 3) The "dark haired youth". Of course he survived. I was suspicious as soon as we didn't actually get to see Andrys kill him. As for the new persona - I suspected who he was, but the moment I was really sure was when Damien started describing him in loving detail. For an entire paragraph. That was half a page long. But the ending. WTF. I could have accepted Gerald's Death, but this? You're telling me after all they went through together, and after he basically just risked his life again by saying hi to Damien in the most cryptic way possible, they just...never talked again?! Nah, in my expert opinion they just met up in the next bathhouse. Also I wanted to see the guy suffer be annoyed a bit more because he can no longer Work to maintain his image. (I'd also have loved to know Geralds criteria for his new body, vain as he is. What was his thought process? "Oh no, the wonderful world of magical horse-breeding is now lost to me! Guess I'll just have to make sure that from now on I have the most majestic ponytail out there!"? Although, come on. He might be willing to risk his life for a horse.) My last words: I enjoyed this series so much more than I ever thought I would, and these idiots now live rent-free in my brain. Also how the f- are we supposed to read these books as an entirely platonic relationship? The most I'll agree to is some weird, slightly cursed QPR. But come on. COME ON. Even if they are both heterosexual (notwithstanding Damiens constant thirsting casual descriptions) they are definitely in love. Or just so deeply obsessed with, and at this point, sort of dependent on each other (Gerlad's words, not mine. sort of) that it makes little to no difference.

I know there's some prequels (?) I think I might check them out sometime.

[mrsshabana]

So I'm gonna try to keep this short lol, but with the tattoo thing I asked last time 😅...id love a story on it. Heres an idea I had and I'd love to see where you take it. So I'd imagine if its a girl he's never seen before but she knows about him buuut when meeting things don't go so great for her.... he ends up attacking her and has hes getting ready to kill her while having her pinned on the ground he notices the tattoo of him on his arm.. I really wanna see where you go with the rest in a full on story I'd love to read it!! Cause your writings are amazing and I love reading them.

𝑮𝒚𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒂 𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒊𝒎

✧ CW: GN!reader x Gyutaro

✧ AN: So, this is hard because I'm trying to think of a way that someone could have a tattoo of Gyutaro (knowing of him, but having this be a first meeting) but still have it be canon. It's as if canon Gyutaro was thrown into the modern world. Let's just ignore the fine details and I can make this work. I pretty much ended up basing this version of Gyutaro on tumblr Gyutaro.

✧ WC: 707

How the hell did you manage to get into this situation? Most people would kill to be in your place, but this truly wasn't your intention. You hadn't planned on stumbling across the one guy you may have a tiny obsession over. But that's not all, did I mention he's also a demon with an unquenchable thirst for human blood? It should've made you think twice before crushing on him so hard.

But now you find yourself in a predicament, pinned against the cold, wet asphalt. With Gyutaro's body hovering above you, holding your arms down so you can't fight back.

It was all a coincidence really, he thought you looked tasty and he was feeling hungry so, why not?

He took you down easy enough. Hell, you weren't even putting up a fight! Just staring at him with those big doe eyes of yours. He leans in closer, ready to indulge in such an easy meal. Maybe he'll tear off your arm and enjoy the melody of your pained screams.

But as he leans in closer to your arm, ready to tear you apart, he sees a familiar face.

"Is that...? Me?!" He thinks to himself, "There's no way this lady has a tattoo of me."

He leans in even closer, closing his mouth and squinting his eyes. He scoffs and his lips curl in disgust.

"What's wrong with you?" he says coldly, sitting up but still straddling your waist so you can't get away.

"E-Excuse me?" you whimper. Not sure if you're overwhelmed by the fact that he was about to kill you or that you're so close to your crush.

"The fuck is wrong with you lady?!" He yells in annoyance, "You fuckin' got me tattooed on your skin?" He roughly grabs your arm and lifts it, showing you the tattoo as if you haven't seen it already.

"I um..." it takes you a moment to compose your words, too embarrassed by his harsh judgement. You don't want him to think ill of you. This isn't the first impression you wanted!

Taking a deep breath, you finally speak, "I did. I got a tattoo of you... because you're my favorite guy."

He sits there in silence, raising his brow quizzically.

"Tsk- What an utter disgrace you are. Ruining your perfect skin with something as unsightly as my face" he scoffs and releases your arm from his grasp, "pathetic."

His harsh words put you on the verge of tears. Maybe you were dumb for thinking he'd actually like it. You sit there, letting the weight of his judgment bear down on you. But then you realize, he doesn't hate the tattoo, he just hates himself.

"Gyutaro, that's not true at all!" You grab his wrist just as he was getting off of you, "I got this tattoo because I thought it was beautiful! Every time I see it I can't help but smile. It makes me happy, and there's nothing I rather look at every day for the rest of my life."

His eyes widen, and his lips close into a slight frown. Your words have really caught him off guard, no one has ever said such a thing to him. For a moment he questions if you really mean it. But you must if you went through the trouble of actually getting that tattoo.

Gyutaro's body moves on it's own as he leans forward and embraces you in a tight hug. He doesn't understand why, but when you said that to him it made him want to be closer to you. His heart skipped a beat and he felt as light as air.

It was a good feeling. Something he's never experienced before.

"Oh!" you gasp when he hugs you. You're just as surprised as he is by his actions, but of course it's something you welcome. Wrapping your arms around him, laying your cheek against his shoulder.

He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. He doesn't know what comes after this, or what he should do. But he knows that he will ingrain your scent into his memory. Because he's never going to let go of the human that made him feel beautiful for the first time.

[sunlightnmoonshine]

Okay so I've had time to calm down and think of ways to make eunseong eat dirt and so now to the positives of this episode which was completely overshadowed by those awful 15 minutes.

- baekhong, how far they've come. To me this was one of their strongest episodes, one because it was truly the most vulnerable we had seen of them together and that scene outside the hospital and then outside the church oof??? The way I could feel the pain, the way I could understand where each was coming from and the way it just hurt because you want only good for them, most importantly though it was the way they were finally communicating with each other and knew why the other was behaving the way that were and were making active efforts to be there for each other irrespective of what they felt.

- at first I had whiplash at how they kept going from tears to just casually hanging out with each other, but it just made so much sense? Like here they are, not walking away but are dealing with the pain together, hyunwoo still trying to convince her but also just being there for her, and haein not wanting to budge but also entertaining hyunwoo's antiques because this is how they work through things, they cry, but they still stay by each other, they try to understand, the effort is all.

- hyunwoo's reaction after the accident deserves special mention but lol what even was that accident, nothing but shock factor and the way they hired that one white dude to just casually be like oh my god lemme call an ambulance and then disappear (bad bad writing) but I couldnt care about any of that because did you see the way kim soo hyun acted his heart out that scene????? Did you see the shortness of breath, the on the verge of a panic attack, the despair then the relief in his eyes, the crying, the way he held her?? The way I could feel every emotion and personally while I think the accident itself was stupid I found it poignant that haein changed her mind when she saw hyunwoo like this and we all know it's not because of the "ooh he looks so sad some lady will come hug him when he's crying after I die" but because haein herself has never seen hyunwoo like this, she saw entirely how destroyed he looked and felt when he thought she died and that hurt her more than anything and oof I just love these two, it's the way they just love each other so much and just want the other to be happy, in this moment haein said I'd hate to forget you but I'd hate it more if my death destroyed you and I think that speaks volumes.

- every other baekhong scene was gold lol, in the hospital, them just being domestic and just talking, the words they say before haein goes in for surgery (poorly written surgery, poorly written illness), the way hyunwoo just collapses once she's in - (and that's it I can't talk about the last 15 minutes lol even though there's a lot of baekhong glory there too).

- special mention for aunt beomja who really is a little ray of sunshine and for soocheol and his little family (I have issues with their bad qualities just being disregarded by this writer but that's for a different post).

Anyway, the ep is flawed just like every ep has been, it's clear the writer has no idea how to navigate complex plot lines and really should have just stuck to baekhong, because that's truly been worth the watch and has been very well written.

[cleoselene]

My roommate ordered pizza for us all last night from our favorite place, this Uncle Rico's joint that's across the street practically. It won a national pizza contest for traditional and god it is some immaculate stuff

also got super stoned. I've switched to lozenges mostly lately? Edibles are great but when your tolerance gets high enough eating it straight up starts to feel wasteful. A normie casual pothead can eat a 10mg gummy and feel blasted. I take 500mg and I feel. pretty good. So it just started to get EXPENSIVE

But lozenges you suck on them and they absorb under the tongue and enter straight into the blood stream and it is a WAY more efficient way of consuming than straight up edibles. I was downing 500-700mg of RSO to get something going, but a 100mg bag of lozenges gets me HIGH ALL DAY. like ALL day.

Anyway the lozenges help with the nausea i have from the pain meds. All out of anxiety meds sadly but my roommates have been wonderful. Like they are devasted to lose Ernie, too, but they have been just so sweet and loving to my depressed ass

watching that Escaping Twin Flames documentary. damn cults are fucking fascinating but bewildering to me how people get caught up in it. Though this one woman who was ex-military said one of the reasons she didn't question her cult leader's fucked up orders was because she'd been conditioned in the military to obey and I was like, QUE INTERESANTE, HMM? Definitely says something about what military training does to a person.

Been doing battleground in WoW all week. PvP is really satisfying when you feel like shit. Alterac Valley is my favorite so I'm glad Korrak's Revenge is running now.

anyway, protip: if you lost a pet, never go to the subreddit for it. I thought it might be helpful but so many people were discussing how guilty they felt for euthanizing their pet, and I hadn't felt that way, UNTIL I READ EVERYONE ELSE FEELING IT. And it made me feel like some kind of monster who threw my baby's life away. It is an irrational fear, I know. he was like 12 years old and the vet said he had more problems aside from the cancer that had spread all over his body, and seeing him suffer that last 24 hours was intolerable, for both of us. I would get upset and he would sense that he was upsetting me and it was just a cycle. I know I did the right thing. The vet was trying to convince me it was the right thing. But god if that subreddit wasn't a lesson in "never go to the internet for anything"

I will get another dog, I just don't know when. When Bobo died I literally went to the shelter the next day and got Ernie. But I was living alone in a city I hated with no friends, that companionship wasn 't something I could just give up and stay sane in grad school. But now I have roommates, and a couple dogs in the house, so we'll see. I want a young dog, maybe even a puppy, even though my mom is pleading with me not to. I just don't want to go through this for another ten years at least, it's just gutted me. I got kinda sick this week from immune system crashing/grief/horrible meds

anyway, the weather is really nice. 54 degrees and clear. I had a peppermint hot chocolate to seize the night, not because I am cold (I am never cold lol) but because in usual Florida weather, any hot drink is a no-go. It's so lovely, I am glad it got cold enough to enjoy one

life sure does suck, but love you guys and the people in my life. As Lady Gaga says: if the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you

[wronglennon]

thank uuuu @menlove and @dykebeatles for tagging me mwah writing tag game lets go

how many works do you have on ao3?

cumulatively over both accounts i have 13, but there are a bunch ive deleted over the years so the actual number is unknown lmao

what’s your total word count?

on takomtrmou it’s 109,153 and on saffrontea its 46,451. my other account is primarily anime/podcast stuff and i havent used it in a while but it was a lot more short form. if you like jujutsu kaisen i have a satosugu fic on there i wrote nearly two years ago now which i still stand by i love you satosugu

top five fics by kudos?

something you can hold on to (satosugu)

stop calling (it’s time to let me be) (satosugu)

if you think you can save me, i dare you to try (satosugu)

there’s a kind of music that reminds me of you (oakworthy)

an improvised guide to co-parenting in the workplace (mythic quest, vaguely braddavid)

do you respond to comments? why/why not?

yeah definitely even if it takes me a bit to get round to them sometimes i try to reply to them. partially because i want to say thank you but partially because when they’re sitting in my inbox it doesn’t feel like i can mark them as seen till i reply lol

what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

it’s between stop calling and if you think you can save me, but i think probably stop calling, just because i think you can save me is a scene that’s also included in something you can hold onto from a different perspective, and that one ultimately has a happy ending. i was very concerned with making stop calling as despairing and hollow as possible.

what’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

thiss is hard because it’s sort of like what quantifies something being happier than something else if it’s just, they both end well. is it that despite the angst the ending is happy? because if that’s the case it’s definitely something you can hold onto. i like the ending to love is a finder as well because it’s just very sweet and i liked writing it a lot.

do you write crossovers?

no, got nothing against them i just have never found two properties that i would be interested in writing one for.

have you ever received hate on a fic?

nooo not as far as i’m aware

do you write smut, if so what kind?

sure if it fits and i want to. most kinds really. i think the smut ive enjoyed writing most has been the trixie katya stuff ive written over the course of this year, esp dead but delicious.

have you ever had a fic stolen?

noooope

have you ever had a fic translated?

noooope

have you ever co-written a fic before?

nah but i would be up for it if its a concept im really into and someone i enjoy co writing with. the concept of the daemon au was very much a split effort between me and james menlove tho so it definitely wouldn’t exist without him.

what’s your all-time favourite ship?

it changes so frequently but ill always have a special place in my heart for satosugu. tragic friends to enemies will always get me and with kenjaku there’s just another element of pain.

what’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

ohhhh banana-split lady i fear. i mean never is a strong word but i worry its not in the foreseeable future just because my passion for it kind of petered out, but i do still really love the concept soo maybe someday. just not someday soon

what are your writing strengths?

i have been told that i evoke scenery and emotion pretty vividly which is always so great to hear. more recently with the beatles my favourite compliment is hearing that i get their voices/banter down accurately because its sooo important to me when im reading a fic and its one of my favourite parts to write.

what are your writing weaknesses?

the planning stage definitely. i have a habit of throwing myself into the bit i want to write and then kind of painting myself into a corner when i realise i dont have any ideas for the wider plot. i’m working on it but yeah im a bigggg offender of just making things up as i go which also can lead to losing interest in a piece lol

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

i suppose i’ve got no issue as long as it’s executed well, and yeah as prev said finding someone who speaks the language is always preferable to just google translating it lmao

what was the first fandom you wrote for?

wrote but not published was doctor who. i was writing self insert doctor who fanfiction from the age of nine. first that i published was voltron and i dont want to talk about that.

what’s a fandom/ship you havent written for yet but want to?

i have a dusty old poison ivy/harley quinn wip that probably i wouldn’t post but definitely piqued my interest in writing them because theyre a lottt of fun.

favourite fic you’ve written?

either something you can hold on to or love is a finder, always! love is a finder is recent but im very proud of how it turned out, and something you can hold onto still stands up remarkably well even tho i think ive changed as a writer quite a lot since i wrote it.

tagging: mmmmm @milfpaul @tritzie @jorkeryuri and whoever else wants to do this lol

[vkvoodoo]

sawyer family while growing up hcs

— the sawyer twins were very protective over their younger brother bubba. They knew that he was “different” in many ways, like he wasn’t able to go to school different. They made sure to keep him company and comfort him

— bubba has had seizures before as a toddler, and child. Drayton would hold him and make sure he wouldn’t bite his tongue, choke on spit, vomit, or hit his head. The twins would just stand there and watch while being uncomfortable, nubbins was interested in it tho

— choptop and nubbins would ALWAYS argue about who is he older twin. Nubbins was

— the twins are troublemakers

— baby bubba was in and out of speech therapy classes

— nubbins thought drayton was their dad for the longest time (3 years)

— drayton was always kinda a miserable person. Easily got annoyed ESPECIALLY with the twins. He would have selled them if he could

— drayton picked favorites. Bubba was his favorite

— nubbins and drayton would argue alot

— nubbins and choptop have went though a phase of casually talking about “banging chicks”

— even though the twins were protective over bubba they would somtimes be rude to him. Let’s say bubba won’t get out of their rooms “damnit get out dummy! I’ll go get drayton if you don’t!” Bubba would SOB at that

— bubba played with any type of toys, dolls, dinosaurs, hell even little bones he would find

— I headcannon that bubba has a skin condition thats like near his top lip, like a rash. Now I don’t know any skin conditions but I feel like the rash would burn, itch and make his skin peel off, so he would always be touching it wich would erritate it and make him cry all the time. Poor baby :( (i actually think this is cannon!)

— bubba is very neurodivergent, at first the twins would get annoyed with him alot because of it, but they grew to learn about it and love him from who he is

— bubba is a chunka baby

— drayton panicked when he realized that bubba had curly hair. He let it grow long once but then everyone thought he was a little lady

— bubba loved being called “bubby” he would laugh at it

— nubbins and choptop would chase bubba around with a random road kill they would find. Bubba would run screaming and crying. Drayton would get the broom lol

— bubba loves swings. That’s why they got that one like bench swing outside!

— bubba was a very picky eater

— the twins thought of learning sign language whenever they found out bubba wouldn’t be able to talk properly

— the twins would constantly ask drayton why he gets no bitches

— drayton would make them eat all their food. He hates when his food gets waisted

— choptop would steal stuff from the gas station drayton works at

— nubbins would bring rats and raccoons inside

— this one time drayton invited lefty over when they were all abit younger, nubbins asked if they were gay. He was right but not at that time lol

— drayton fell into a massive depressive state after their parents disappeared. He knew grandpa was too old to keep care of his younger brothers

— drayton is actually really good with kids, just couldn’t stand the damn twins

— because they lived near a lake they would go there alot when it was super hot. Drayton would bring a whole bag of food n blankets, the twins would race there, and bubba would walk with drayton. They would actually do this quite often, I know their house would be getting quite uncomfortable with the Texas heat. I don’t think drayton would swim, bubba would put his feet and hands in the water, though I also don’t think he would swim, and nubbins and choptop would literally be drowning each other as drayton would threaten to drown both of them if they didn’t cut the crap. Bubba would look for pretty rocks/flowers around the lake, I imagine this being a very calming place for bubba. poor bubba would have to hear drayton rant to him about his brothers being such a pain in the ass when they go to the lake, he would leave them at their hot ass smelly home but decided to be nice. ALSO nubbins sucks at swimming somthing just tells me that he does. I bet drayton or their parents before they disappeared never taught any of them how to properly swim. nubbins would find a leach or somthing really gross and scare bubba with it.

— every rat that drayton would kill, nubbins and bubba would burry them outside. Bubba liked digging holes but would freak out with the feeling of dirt up his nails. Nubbins would squish the worms they would find. Once when the hole was finished nubbins would place the dead rat into it and burry it. Placing a flower down that bubba picked from the lake on top of the digged up dirt. nubbins would then stomp on it. (Choptop didn’t care for rat funerals)

ahhh I love writing about them growing up😭💗💗 feel free to request me anything!

[writernopal]

OC Deep Dive Tag

I got tagged by @tabswrites (here), @captain-kraken (here) and @pheita (here) for this one! Thanks guys so much 🥺

Tagging (gently): @paintedbutton @teamdilf @daisywalletchains @void-botanist and anyone else who'd like to play!

We'll do Axtapor for this one because I miss him 😭

What common/uncommon fear do they have?

Maybe its a bit meta, but he fears rejection above all else.

Do they have any pet peeves?

Shitty knot tying skills. He can't stand it and has absolutely dismissed men from their stations for tying crappy knots and not keeping their area neat.

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

A pipe, a dagger, and an iron file for his claws.

What do they notice first in a person?

How much they're worth, as in, are they wearing lots of jewelry? fine clothes? etc.

On a scale from 1-10, how high is their pain tolerance?

9. Though he is loud when he gets hurt.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

FIGHT, 1000% lol. He won't back down from a fight even if the situation is grim.

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

His nuclear family is small by Lizardfolk standards. His parents only had one clutch, so he's one of six children. His extended family/clan is quite large though as Clan Oxlo is the founding Major Clan of the House of Dreams. As far as being a family person, he absolutely is, even though he doesn't necessarily think of himself as one. The way he sees it, its just something that he has to do at some point in his life to carry on his clan name (he's an old bachelor) but, uh, well, that changes after he meets a certain lil lady.

What animal represents them best?

A hyena. More about that here.

What is a smell they dislike?

Human sweat. He HATES it. He's described it as smelling like a corpse.

Have they broken any bones?

Yes. He broke his leg once when he jumped down a dry well at 8 years old. He's also broken countless other things since then. (Fingers and tail vertebrae mostly) Hazards of the job as it were.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Probably intimidating or mean. He looks quite gruff when he's in his own thoughts and is very short with people he doesn't know.

Are they a night owl, or morning bird?

Morning bird, especially because he hunts and sailing also requires being up early in the day, esp as first mate. But his favorite time of day is golden hour.

What’s a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

I don't know if there is a specific flavor he hates but he doesn't really like sweets. As far as a flavor he loves, whatever grasshoppers and fish scales taste like lol.

Do they have any hobbies?

Smoking, hunting, and bushcraft camping.

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprise?

It really depends on who is throwing it. If its his grandma or Mariel, then he's stoked, otherwise he's probably lukewarm about it. But either way, it wouldn't stop him from downing a few celebratory drinks and smoking some good tobacco.

Do they like to wear jewellery?

Yes and so much of it. He likes to wear what he's stolen during pillages and will often pick and choose what he steals based on his tastes.

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Messy lol. Its basically chicken scratch because he's right handed but after an accident a few years ago (a boarding hook through the palm) he had to relearn how to write with his left hand. He doesn't quite have the motor skills in his right hand as he used to even though its healed and his left is still not the best, so using a claw quill like most lizards do is pretty hard for him. He opts for the more human form of writing: using a quill.

What are the two emotions they feel the most?

Angry and horny lol.

Do they have a favourite fabric?

I don't think so, he kind of just wears whatever is comfortable and easy to move in. He tends towards both human and lizard fashions, which come in a wide array of fabric options, sometimes the same fabrics (linen, cotton, occasionally silks), though the cuts are obviously different. Most lizards won't wear human clothes because they think its ugly but he likes it because he can get it pretty easily at most of the ports they visit. He also enjoys fine spun wool in the winter as well as animal pelts.

What kind of accent do they have?

Whatever this is lol: “I nay know yer Everwatcher. Fact been, I could give a shite ‘bout her, seein’ as she will no show her face, so her word or trust in ye has nary a meanin’ to me. Stand in for yerself and let me weigh ye proper, or we be leavin’ this place.” In all seriousness, it really depends on what language he's speaking. He speaks several but most often in AASOAF is speaking Common or Hamatian (native language of Ihama where he was born). I made a post about AASOAF's languages here but to recap, Common is not based on English, rather Old Spanish. This means they would have Spanish-like accents if they spoke our English. In world, especially for Lizardfolk, learning Common is challenging because their mouth shape isn't fit to make the softer, rounder sounds of the language, so they often sound very aggressive, like they're biting their words when they speak. They also bring Lizardfolk inflections to the language when speaking it, Axtapor will also do this and often adds glottal stops where they shouldn't be or punctuates words with a short hiss or click. His Hamatian is very good, and sounds like our Sanskrit, but leans a lot more into the sing-song rise and fall of the language due to the way Lizardfolk vocal anatomy is. It also incorporates hisses, clicks, bassy thumps produced from the chest and throat, and on occasion, chattering. As a nobleman, he was brought up speaking the formal or Halto variant of the language as well as Meddia and Lajo variants. He will switch the variant he uses depending on who he's talking to, though they will sometimes mix, especially if he gets wound up about something, and he ends up sounding a little country.