#if they haven’t read it beforehand

[kastukj]

Really trying to watch the untamed and give it a proper chance but man there’s just so much that doesn’t sit well w me… i want to love it but it’s making that really hard to do 😞

[isopodonanescalator]

oh btw our play has a character who is deeply invested in doctor who (specifically the 2nd and 3rd doctors) and writes doctor who fanfic. i wanted to share that here yesterday when i found out but I DIDNT HAVE MY PHONE BECAUSE I WAS BACKSTAGE AND I ONLY JUST NOW REMEMBERED

[cosmoshunger]

HEY. help me. can you describe aftg to me with as little spoilers as possible

The main character is a boy on the run called Neil Josten. He gets an offer to join a famous collegiate sports team called the Palmetto State Foxes and he can’t resist accepting even though he knows the fame will be dangerous for him. (The sport in question is a made-up sport called exy. It’s explained just enough that you can follow along the matches and get excited about strategy, but since the sport kind of takes a back seat to the other stuff going on, it doesn’t spend too much time going through rules and stuff.) The Foxes are infamous because they’re a kind of rehabilitation team - the coach recruits players from difficult backgrounds to give them a second chance through exy. Because of this the characters are all damaged people who do shitty things, and as they delve into the backstories of various team members MANY TRIGGER WARNINGS APPLY. In the vaguest way so as not to spoil anything, the main conflict is that the world of exy has…a lot of connections to Neil’s life before he went on the run, which puts him even more at risk.

Essentially it’s this messy combination of sports and thriller and messed up found family that somehow works just enough to keep you really invested. It’s not perfect and it has more than its fair share of problematic elements, so you kind of have to go into it with as few expectations as possible and just sort of go along with it until it clicks. Boy is it fun though.

[lemonsandlimesandwriting]

Here is Chapter 3 of the fic I’m currently working on

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

hey i don't wanna be that person, but i sent a few asks awhile back and just want to know if ur ignoring em or just have forgot about em.

srry if i'm being a bother heh <:)

anyways hugs and platonic kissesy

It’s perfectly fine. I know I basically disappeared. I’m not willfully ignoring the ask box, I swear. I’ve been working overnights now and I was on for four days straight (including tonight). The last four days, I basically have only about 3 hours (from 2-5) between sleeping and working again between waking up and getting ready again.

I’ve only been answering the asks on the new ask blog consistently because they’re much much simpler to answer at the moment.

I’m finally off tomorrow (read: technically today but like…after noon, after I’ve slept off the four days straight of work). So I’ll be answering everything in my inbox after I wake up and have coffee and stuff.

[whenthegoldrays]

finally finished reading TLROS, onto Longbourn!

edit: I have decided to read Northanger Abbey instead

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: KISS & MAKE UP

✩ ‧ ˚. streamer!au: after the breakup, you two decide to make up in the traditional way—by having sex! NSFW

contents: fem!reader. oral (f. recieving), p –> v, teasing, praise, hair pulling (m. recieving), missionary, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, use of pet names (too many to list here). not proofread bc you couldn't pay me to read all this again. 2.5k words. read this fic beforehand for better understanding of the context, but you don't have to.

author's note: tumblr hates me and that's why the banner quality's trash. if u wanna see the details, click here. anyways the streamer!gojo smut has finally arrived, tagging @satorena @screampied @cultrise, enjoyyy ;)

“did you tell them we’re back together?”

satoru nods in response to your question, plopping down on the couch next to you. he's spent the last hour chatting with his stream, and eventually he broke the news that you and him were back together after the breakup.

“yeah, i did,” he confirms, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck. your hands automatically move to his hair and you thread your fingers through the soft white strands, pausing after a couple seconds to give him a quick kiss on the forehead.

a week ago, you and satoru had an admittedly messy breakup—not messy in the sense that it got toxic or dramatic, but messy in the way that it could’ve easily been avoided. it wasn’t that big of a deal, but thankfully, you and satoru resolved your misunderstanding within a relatively short time.

since then, things have been a little different—satoru’s been taking a break from streaming, which gave him move time to spend with you and away from his thousands of fans. it was his suggestion, and not surprisingly, it worked. but all good things have to come to an end, and your “honeymoon” away from satoru’s stream seems to be coming to a close.

“something smells good,” satoru notes, lifting his head and glancing at the kitchen. “wait, is that ramen?” your boyfriend gasps, eyes rounding as he looks at you hopefully. 

“yeah, you said you were craving it, so i made some,” you reply with a smile, untangling yourself from his arms and walking over to the kitchen. satoru blows you a flurry of kisses that you see out of the corner of your eye as you check on the ramen, which looks pretty much done.

“y’know, i still haven’t forgiven you for the shit you pulled last week,” you say dryly, turning off the stove and draining the water from the ramen into your sink. the steam rises up as the boiling water slips down into the drain, clouding your face for a moment before it dissipates into thin air. 

“...does that mean i don’t get to eat that ramen?” satoru asks tentatively, a nervous smile on his lips as you empty a packet of flavored powder into the ramen. you shoot him a look and raise an eyebrow, turning back to the stove to hide your smile.

“maybe, maybe not,” you reply coyly, not wanting to give in too soon.

“boo, you whore.”

you roll your eyes and divide the ramen into two bowls, one for you and one for your boyfriend. “you’re lucky i’m too nice to let you starve, regina,” you say pointedly, walking back over to the couch and handing one of the bowls to him, which satoru takes with both hands—a habit from his childhood that never went away. “otherwise you’d be—”

satoru cuts you off by poking your lips with his chopsticks, steaming hot ramen wrapped around them. you reluctantly open your mouth and let him feed you, smiling when he seals the bite with a kiss. 

“best girlfriend ever,” satoru proclaims when he pulls away, a lazy smile playing on his lips. his soft blue eyes study your own, observing your unusually guarded expression and frowning.

“how many times do i gotta apologize for my bullshit before you stop making that face at me?” he grumbles, twirling his chopsticks in his bowl and taking a bite of the ramen. it’s cute how satoru’s face lights up at the taste, and it’s even cuter how his eyes round at you in awe when he takes another bite. “i didn’t know instant ramen could be this good,” he muses, licking any lingering flavor off of his lips.

“very funny, satoru,” you laugh, swirling your chopsticks around the broth and watching the rest of the steam rise from your bowl. “and to answer your question, i don’t really know.”

satoru tilts his head and takes a sip of his water, ice clinking against the side of the glass. when you respond to his question, he pauses and tilts his head in confusion. “...wait, what does that mean?”

you think for a second, choosing your words carefully. “i’m not sure how long it’ll take until we’re back to… normal,” you say cautiously. in all honesty, you weren’t that pissed off at him—you never were. but the fact that satoru was so ready to throw your relationship away over something as small as that was upsetting, to say the least. and you weren’t entirely sure it wouldn’t happen again.

satoru looks at you thoughtfully, more serious than you’ve seen him in a while. you can almost see the gears turning in his head before he replies. “any idea how i can make it up to you?”

you shrug, swallowing another bite of ramen before you meet his eyes. “you tell me. actions speak louder than words.”

your boyfriend drops his chopsticks, letting them clatter around in the bowl before he stands up. he extends a hand to you, a determined glint in his eye. “then lemme prove it to you.”

“satoru, you can’t bribe me with sex.”

“that’s not all i’ll be doing, sweetheart. trust me.”

and that’s how you ended up in his room, hands tangled in satoru’s soft white hair as he eats you out. his tongue laps at your cunt with quick, kitten-like strokes, and he presses a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh. “feels s’good, satoru,” you breathe, involuntarily tugging on his hair and dragging out a groan from his lips. “sorry—”

“don’t apologize,” satoru mumbles in reply, nose brushing against your dripping thighs as his tongue slips past your folds and goes in deeper. he looks up and locks eyes with you, unable to resist smiling at the way your legs tremble around him. “aw, you’re so fuckin’ cute,” he murmurs, flicking his tongue in and out of your cunt with a grin. “and i’m the one who should be—fuck, you’re gorgeous—apologizing.”

this isn’t the first time satoru’s eaten you out, but it feels like it every single time—somehow, his tongue has a talent of rendering you unable to focus on anything else but him. you grind your hips against satoru’s face, eyes squinted shut as your boyfriend flattens his tongue before lapping your slick up with cloudy eyes. “shit, i don’t know what i’d be without you,” he murmurs, voice low and steady—and something about his tone makes you certain he’s being completely honest with you.

“you’re so—fuck, satoru, i’m gonna cum,” you breathe, back automatically arching when satoru’s tongue reaches that spot inside you. he laughs, and the vibration of the soft sound against your puffy, sensitive cunt almost makes your legs give out—but thankfully, satoru’s hands are secured around your thighs, holding you in place. “‘toru, i can’t—”

“yeah, y’can, just relax that pretty pussy for me,” he cooes, licking up the slick dripping down his chin. “c’mon, you’re doing so good f’me, keep going, baby.” and just like that, his tongue slips out of your cunt and he lets you cum—the sheer force of your orgasm hits you like a truck, and your hips roll against satoru’s face in a choppy rhythm as you desperately ride it out, hands gripping and accidentally yanking his hair.

you stutter out his name a couple more times, unable to focus on anything but the feeling of satoru’s mouth on your sensitive, gushing pussy. your boyfriend praises you the whole way, gently murmuring soft words about how sweet you are for letting him taste you, even while your relationship was rocky. when your voice steadies enough for satoru to make out what you’re begging him to do, he’s not at all surprised to hear you plea for him to fuck you—so stands up and tugs you down onto his bed, hand intertwined with yours as he pulls the sheets over your bodies. 

you squeeze satoru’s hand and lean in to kiss him, chest still heaving from your earlier orgasm. naturally, you miss his lips and end up kissing the side of his face, which is flushed bright red from the way his body reacts to the taste of your pussy. “don’t ever leave me like that again,” you whisper, tears pricking at your eyes for some reason—maybe it’s the lovesick way satoru looks at you, or maybe it’s the way he’s holding onto you like there’s no place he’d rather be.

“i won’t,” satoru promises, pressing an affectionate kiss to your forehead and pulling your head into his chest. his lips touch the top of your head as he murmurs, “and if i do, shoot me.” it sounds like a joke, but you both know that he’s dead serious.

“good thing i won’t have to do that,” you say with a soft giggle. your smile is heart-achingly familiar to satoru, and it feels like home—and that’s the realization that has him stripping off what little clothing the two of you still have on before he climbs on top of you. 

satoru touches the tip of his dick to your pussy, waiting for your nod to allow him to go in all the way. after a second, you dip your chin and trail your fingers down satoru’s jaw, grabbing his chin and pulling him down into another kiss. his lips linger for a couple seconds, still-minty breath tickling your face, before he pulls away. satoru slowly lowers his hips and nudges his dick inside of your desperate cunt, hands resting on either side of you.

even though it’s only been a little over a week since you last had sex with satoru, it feels like it’s been forever—your boyfriend curses when he feels how tight you are, mumbling something about missing you “so fucking much” as he goes in deeper and deeper. it hurts a little at first, but you quickly get used to the feeling of him inside of you. 

“fuckin’ hell, i’m never gonna get tired of this,” satoru breathes, dipping his head and kissing your collarbone. a single drop of sweat drips down the side of his face as he watches you squirm, eyes soft and endearing as you do so. he starts rolling his hips back and forth against you to loosen you up a little, dragging out soft moans from you as he does so. 

“yeah, you better not,” you mutter, tilting your head back and drawing in a long breath of air. you can’t remember the last time you felt this good—maybe it was the last time satoru fucked you. “satoru, y’re going so slow—”

your boyfriend cuts you off with a particularly harsh thrust, making your body jolt against his mattress. satoru lifts his head and looks you in the eye, a breathy laugh slipping out of him when he sees the pout on your lips. “the fuck you mean, i’m going slow? you want me to tear you apart? silly girl,” he tuts, back to his usual cocky self. he shakes his head and goes deep enough in you to force you to arch your back, starting to grin at the way you paw at his chest. “always so selfish, aren’t you?” he cooes, dipping his head and giving you a sloppy kiss on the forehead. “but you’re always—so—fuckin’—sweet,” satoru whispers, punctuating each word with a thrust hard enough for you to moan out his name more times than you can count.

“you’re the selfish one,” you mumble, lips trembling enough to muffle your voice. satoru huffs out a sigh and kisses your mouth, teeth gently brushing against your bottom lip. “you broke up with me for no reason,” you continue, tears pricking at your eyes again. “you think i’m gonna forgive you this fast?” 

satoru shakes his head again and caresses the side of your face. “will you?” he asks, slowing his pace enough for you to notice. you mutter something about him edging you on purpose, to which satoru shushes you and repeats his question.

“maybe.”

“you gotta stop giving me maybe’s, baby—y’re drivin’ me crazy here.”

in the past week, satoru’s done so much for you, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed. on the day after your breakup, he picked you up from your house and took you for a picnic entirely curated by him. on the second day, he made you breakfast, lunch and dinner—it wasn’t the best food you ever had, but it was definitely the most memorable (in more ways than one). on the third day, he took you out to your favorite amusement park and did everything he could to make you smile—by then, you had pretty much forgiven him, and the giant teddy bear he dropped in your bedroom only made you love him more. the rest of the days were filled with longing glances and little gifts left around your house, which only helped him earn more and more of you back.

so, you figure that satoru deserves what comes next.

“okay,” you whisper. 

satoru’s eyes widen and he hesitates before he tentatively asks, “does this mean—”

you don’t let him finish his question, instead grabbing his face and tugging him down into a full kiss. he lets out a soft hm? in surprise, but kisses you back more than gratefully. “c’mon, make me cum,” you breathe when he finally pulls away. satoru nods dazedly and mouths “i love you” before he goes back in you, pace faster than before.

one of his hands snakes down to your waist, holding it in pace while the other caresses your face. you gaze up at him with a soft smile, eyes fluttering open and closed every time his dick hits your sweet spot—which is more times than your body can handle, but you welcome the feeling of him deep inside of you. after barely a couple thrusts, a coil forms in your stomach, growing tighter and tighter with each movement of satoru’s hips. 

satoru laughs, chest heaving as he grins down at you cheekily. “i knew you’d forgive me,” he murmurs, pinching your cheek affectionately. “m’ so sorry—”

“shut up and fuck me,” you interrupt, tongue starting to loll out of your mouth as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to cumming all over satoru’s dick. 

“as you wish, princess.”

satoru’s breathing slowly changes, becoming more choppy and uneven the closer you watch him get to his high—it’s so, so close for both of you, and when it comes, it takes over both of your minds like a drug. satoru curses and groans out your name, thrusts growing sloppy as he desperately rides out his orgasm. cum shoots out from his dick and coats the inside of your cunt white, dripping out once you physically can’t take any more.

you run your hands all over satoru’s body, clawing and gripping at every inch of skin you can latch onto—satoru’s always been your anchor, and you hope that he always will be. one of his hands leaves the side of your face and tangles with your fingers, holding it down against the mattress as he promises to never screw you over like that again, and you’re only too welcoming to him and his words as you squirt all over his dick. “fuck, satoru—”

he lifts his eyes and meets your own, and unlike you, his vision is clearer than ever. “shoot me if i ever leave you again, baby. i’m serious.”

you raise a shaky hand and touch the side of his face, eyes fluttering shut as you murmur, “i know i won’t have to.”

[remxedmoon]

(You don’t know how much longer you can do this.)

hi the wip for this was absolutely not supposed to blow up. why does that have 1k notes. horrifying. anyways!!!! it’s update time baby!!!! 64 new assets this time around!

so that’s what the caption was supposed to be. this update was already pretty damn big and took a ton of time to make!!! and i was finally done!! but then my hand slipped and now we’re at 143 new assets. super sorry for the delay! That Was Not Supposed To Happen.

i’ll go more indepth below the cut, but this update encompasses all menu/profile art for both isat and sasasaap, battle portraits for sasasaap, every single pixel icon in isat (to my knowledge anyways), the dialogue skipping animations, and a few miscellaneous additions.

also i spent too much time on these to put them below the cut so Please God Look At My Icon Resprites I Spent 16 Hours On Them. enjoy!

okay first things first. why the hell is this batch 143 assets. so. i HEAVILY underestimated how many times the menu drawings are used in the games. even removing all of the custom art, it’s still ≈30-40 variations! that’s a lot! and once i finally finished everything, i got Posting Anxiety and somehow convinced myself that attempting Animation And Pixel Art (two things i haven’t done in YEARS) would be easier than writing a normal post. so here we are.

the custom art here is pretty much par for the course at this point. extra menu art for bonnie, extra expressions for the party in act 5, we’ve done this enough times that it’s expected. i am aware that bonnie’s custom menu art gets completely covered by the ui. i kept it in because it’s really funny (and also i didn’t feel like extending the sprite (but then the sasasaap version forced me to extend the sprite anyways so Whartever)).

once again, provided a spritesheet for sasasaap’s battle portraits! i do intend to cover both games, it’s just a slightly lower priority atm. unlike isat though, i’ve got Less (read “No”) experience with sasasaap, so there might be more issues with those assets?? apologies if there are, i’ll try to fix any issues that come up!

the Miscellaneous Additions i mentioned above are the sprites used on the teleport map and the loading screen, which is just a tiny version of the skipping animation. they were pretty small, so i figured i might as well get them out of the way!

not actually much to say about the 75 icons surprisingly! i haven’t done pixel art in about 5 years?? and that’s a Travesty actually these were super fun to make. i did make mockups for the overworld sprites earlier, but they aren’t Officially part of the redraws (yet) so they’re getting posted seperately

and also!! some exciting news!! this project might actually become a Proper Published Mod pretty soon!! i’ve been in contact with someone who’s willing to help me get everything set up, and i’ll be getting a Usable Computer around the end of the year!!!! it’ll still be at least a month before it’s up (i’d like to get the enemy art finished beforehand wauaua) but!!! still exciting!

okay, i think that’s everything relevant to the update!! i Definitely can’t fit all of the relevant assets here lol. but i’ll try my best ! please enjoy !!

[highonakuweeds]

POV: Your Alastor's wife and it's October

(A/N: I didn't read anything beforehand, so if you see any weird mix ups of whatever, I'm sure your brain can ignore it thank you <3)

“My dear!” Alastor exclaimed towards you, who was at the bar, conversing with Husk. Your attention changed so that Alastor had it fully, which made Husk roll his eyes and chug a drink down. “Mon amour! How are you this hellish evening? I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Ah, yes well,” Alastor tugged on his coat, his grin somewhat strained. It wasn’t obvious for the majority of the others, but it was to his wife. “Just some irritating demons on the streets, is all; nothing to worry about.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Alastor, I know what that face means.” 

He raised a curious brow. “Do you, now?”

“Mhm.” You sipped the last of your champagne, and thanked Husk for the drink, earning a nod from him. “It means you’re horny.”

…

…

…

“What? Noo!” Alastor attempted to brush off, his eyebrows stitched with disbelief. “You know how I am about anything sexual, dear. I—” “Yes, yes, it’s not really your thing; we all know that. However,” light flickered through your gaze as you bore into Alastor’s eyes. “That doesn’t mean you can’t escape that month you hate so much.”

Alastor remained quiet, his eye twitching. You shrugged. “I mean, hey, if you want to wait it out, suit yourself. People will ask where you’ve gone, and you don’t want them to give in to curiosity, do you?”

He hesitated before grunting, grabbing your wrist, causing you to yelp. “Fine.” 

As your giggles of amusement echoed in the halls, Charlie tilted her head. “What’s he going to do to her? Oh, no, I hope it isn’t anything horrible…”

Angeldust snorted, swirling his pink cocktail before sipping. “Nah, he’s probably gonna fuck’er.”

“What!?”

“Angeldust!” Vaggie exclaimed, causing the spider demon to look at her in surprise. “What? You saw the way he looked at her, plus the way she was teasin’. I thought it was obvious.”

Cherri bomb grinned. “No shit they’re gonna fuck. But it’s kinda weird, don’t cha think? The edgelord finally wants to bang someone.”

Charlie thought about it. “Well, they are married.”

“Wait, they’re fuckin’ what now?”

“Wow, is this month that tough you gotta drag me to your room, Alastor?” You teased, causing him to groan. “You don’t even want to know how much I had to endure for the past couple of days.” He replied. 

Your brows furrowed. “Honey, if it was hurting you, you could’ve asked me way sooner. You know I would’ve been more than happy to help you.”

Alastor laughed, locking his door, and whisking the swamp side of his room away to not let anything disturb them. “Of course, you would’ve been, darling; you’re always so willing to help. Speaking of which, would you be a doll and soundproof the area?”

You cocked an eyebrow, obliging nonetheless. With a flick of your wrist, blue wisps coated his bedroom, leaving some sort of shiny residue scattered in the room. “Oh, I didn’t realize it was going to be a rough night for the both of us…”

“Oh, shut it.” Alastor mumbled before walking towards you. He crashed his lips onto yours, cupping your cheeks with fervor and slight desperation. You let out a noise of surprise before giggling and allowing your husband to do whatever he needed to do. You snaked your arms around Alastor’s neck, scratching the base of his ears, just how he liked it.

He let out a soft sigh of bliss, his steps making the both of them stumble onto the bed, with him on top of your. Before, Alastor normally just locked himself somewhere private, usually his radio tower, until this stupid cycle wore off. But now that his wife, his technical mate, was right where he was currently residing, it was way more difficult than it was before to be cooped up.

He had attempted to take matters into his own hands, both literally and figuratively, and the only thing it gave him was sheer shame and embarrassment, so he had stopped trying. So, to have you below him was such a relief.

And yet, he wanted more. He needed more. 

He needed to taste you, and mark you, and show every single demon that came your way that you were his wife. No one else’s.

Alastor pulled back from the kiss, planting small yet precise marks on your jaw, causing you to softly moan so quietly it riled him up even more. 

He tried his best to keep his composure calm, to hold himself back. But he truly couldn’t with how foggy his mind made everything become. Alastor sunk his teeth into your neck, right below your pulse. You let out an animalistic groan, your back off of the mattress already. “Alastor, love, calm down—”

“Apologies, my dear, but I don’t think I can.” He responded tightly, licking the wound he inflicted fervently, shuddering as the metallic taste hit his tongue. You chuckled, sweeping his hair away from his face. “Alright, then. Do whatever you need to, sweetheart.”

Alastor tried to think clearly, to regain any sort of control he had in his sexual desires, but he so miserably failed. The urge to bite you and mark you and make everyone know that you were his overruled his mind. It was the only thing he could ever think straight at that moment.

“Mine…” He muttered, kissing and sucking on almost every single part of your neck. His hand had other plans, though, as it traced your figure until it reached your hips, and it squeezed hard. 

You let out a yelp and a moan, your breath practically nonexistent as you chuckled. “I’m yours, darling.”

His hand, even if it was just one, grounded you to the bed. You found yourself unable to move, not that you cared, anyway. Alastor rarely needed you in this sort of way, and to have him like this, so desperate, so needy, it made you feel things.

You were not quite sure what was going on hearing-wise, but you felt yourself saying Alastor’s name as a plea. He groaned, pulling himself away from your neck with a strained struggle. He drank you in, his smile still present. You almost laughed as his eyes didn’t match that, though, since they were looking at your outfit in disgust. He adjusted his position to balance himself before snapping it away, leaving you bare.

You gasped at the drop of temperature, causing you to scoff. “Alastor! At least warn a demon.” His deer ears twitched as he descended onto your collarbone, peppering kisses everywhere. “I apologize again, (name). I just…” He took a deep breath in and felt his eyelids fall heavy. “You’re intoxicating…”

At the mention of your name, you stirred slightly, feeling the heat pool down to your core. Alastor must have noticed this, however, since he started trailing kisses around your chest, his favorite part being the underside of it. He nipped at the skin and sucked like a dog in heat.

Well, a deer in rut, but one must digress.

You squirmed in your position as he bit down right before he resumed his trail of kisses down to your stomach. He could feel your arousal like it was his own, and that put him in quite the predicament.

“Aren’t you going to take care of yourself first, Al? You’re practically bursting.” You quietly asked, a hand running through red tufts of hair that was tickling your torso. A low growl escaped Alastor’s throat. “I will; have some patience, love.” Me? You’re literally bulging. “But right now, I need a taste of you…”

Your eyebrows twitched as they creased together. “What are you trying to do—” You cut yourself off with a yelp as Alastor planted a soft kiss on your clit, making your jump. “If I go too far,” Alastor started, gazing up at you through his bangs. “Tell me.”

You nodded, knowing that he never would go too far, and if he did, he would be too busy enjoying his meal to understand that. 

Alastor’s grin just stretched wider before probing his tongue into you, causing you to shudder with a groan at the feeling. You played with his ears, your breath being stolen away. Honestly, if it weren’t for his cannibalistic and homicidal instincts, he would’ve landed a spot in Heaven with how gentlemanly he was, giving you pleasure before indulging in his own.

Alastor was fully aware of the growing tent in his pants, but he paid it no mind, which he was glad he was at least able to do. With that, he knew his mind hadn’t succumbed to the worse thoughts that he dreaded the most.

He lapped and sucked up all of the juices you had to offer, his pace unforgiving and sloppy. You could feel your own claws puncture the mattress with how tight your grip was on it, but you were sure Alastor wouldn’t care later on. He doesn’t really…sleep.

With how quickly Alastor was working against you, you felt that knot in your stomach appear just as fast, making you curse under your breath. For someone who doesn’t really like anything inherently sexual, he sure is a master at it.

Alastor felt it. He felt you getting closer, and he wanted nothing more than to see you writhe in pleasure all because of him, and nothing, or no one, else. The hand that was gripping your thigh to the point of wounds hooked your leg onto his shoulder for the time being, holding it in place as he quickened his pace.

The only thing you could do was whimper and plead and whine. And every single syllable that dropped from your mouth went straight to his arousal, and he cursed internally. A string of violent curses escaped his wife’s lips as you tugged on Alastor’s hair, which led him to hiss in both the pain and pleasure it shamefully gave him. 

“Close—Alastor, wait—!” You managed to cry before snapping, waves of pleasure crashing into you intensely. You let out a demonic groan as Alastor drank you until your high faded.

Your head flopped onto the fluffy pillows of Alastor’s bed, staring at the red head of hair just where your abdomen started. The radio demon rested his head on the inner side of your thigh, catching his breath slightly, which caused a bit of feedback from the voice effect he always had on.

“Are you satisfied?” You asked, tilting your head. Despite the fact that Alastor kept smiling, his brows twitched. He was far from satisfied. 

You laughed, and Alastor could hear a bit of nervousness laced into it. Not that kind that was associated with fear, but the kind that was associated with excitement. 

It’s going to be a long night for the both of them.

You sat up properly before crawling to be in front of Alastor. “It’s quite unfair that I’m the only one bare right now.” You teased, undoing the buttons of his coat. Though, even as you did, he knew how much you enjoyed that power difference.

Alastor didn’t resist as you unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirt underneath. You had stopped undressing him when his shirt hit the strain in his pants, and he felt an annoyed grunt scratching his throat at the lack of friction. “(Name), dear.”

“Hm?”

“You have to stop teasing…”

You scoffed out a laugh. “Is the radio demon attempting to beg right now?” Alastor’s face immediately turned bright red, the cold air that was hitting his bare chest not helping him, either. “Chérie, don’t make me do this—” “What, beg?”

You had figured out how to make it more fun for you, and more cruel for him.

It made him so embarrassingly hard.

Your positions were now flipped, since Alastor had tried (and failed) to cage you in, and so when he crawled towards you, you swiftly went behind him. So now, his back was towards the headboard, his ears pinned back slightly. Without his coat, you could really have a nice view of his small deer tail which was currently tucked in between his legs, barely covering the bulge in front of his pants.

His grin twitched. “So, how are you planning on taking advantage of our current situation?”

You laughed, a finger to his lips to shush him, which made an irk mark appear on his forehead. “Oh, dear Alastor, have some patience! You wanted me to have the same thing just minutes before, right?” Your finger swept to his chin to lift it up as you leaned in closer. So close Alastor heard your pulse.

Your eyes fluttered closed, your lips mere centimeters apart. Alastor sighed, ready to feel the sensation of your soft lips against his, but he only felt the cold air hit it instead. He opened his eyes to find you grinning with an eyebrow raised. His brows dropped as his smile strained, just as much as his pants were. Alastor cleared his throat before giving you an amused gaze. “Do you really think that would work on me?”

You shrugged, leaning forward to straddle yourself on him. He cursed under his breath (a rare scene, honestly. You savored every moment) as he felt himself buck against you. “Well, it did; there’s no real debate about it, hun.” You cupped one of his cheeks, in which he melted into, while tracing the outline of his deer ears with your other hand. You laughed breathlessly. “I’m sorry, your ears are just…absolutely divine.”

Alastor fought back every single moan and whine that you were pulling out of him from playing with his ears. “The things you do to me…” He whispered as he grinded against you slightly, that needed friction making him see stars. 

You almost lost self control at that statement. Just the way Alastor was slowly breaking under you purely because you were touching and prodding at his ears gave you such a power surge. Your hands made their way to his pants, where they undid them and freed Alastor, who had just hissed at the cold air hitting his cock.

You stared and ogled at the sight before you, your hand wrapping itself around it. Alastor tensed, his shoulders raised slightly. He let out a shaky breath, watching his own chest rise and fall to calm him down.

He was already leaking, and you used that to your advantage. You stroked painfully slowly, causing him to shiver. You glanced at Alastor’s expression with a sly smirk. “You’re enjoying this a lot, dear.”

Your tone was mocking; Alastor heard it. He tightly chuckled. “How would you know?”

“Alastor. You’re so hard right now.”

“Oh.” 

You snorted before increasing your pace against his cock. Alastor cleared his throat, feeling his mind fog with desire and lust, the two things he really wished hadn’t plagued his mind too much.

You felt a tentacle wrap around your left thigh, and your breath hitched. “Al?-” It started to massage your pussy, making you gasp and grip Alastor’s cock a bit too tightly.

He grunted in both pain and pleasure, that brief moment of extreme bliss washing away again. “(Name), love, I think you should calm down this time.”

“Well, it’s not my fault your stupid tentacles start to just—” You cut yourself by sighing in relief, the same tentacle you were referring to going in circles against your already sensitive clit. “I swear.” You muttered, quickening your pace against Alastor.

Suddenly, you stopped your hand, cursing when the tentacle wouldn’t do the same. At that lack of motion, Alastor swore under his breath, his grin showing annoyance as he grunted. Yet even with shocks of pleasure spreading across you body, you kept a steady face, the smile on your face absolutely shit-eating. “Is someone annoyed already? Doesn’t feel good when pleasure’s just taken from you, does it?” You swiped you thumb against his tip which made Alastor stir. He let out a low, dragged-out moan at the sensation. you repeated the motion, amused at the way Alastor took a sharp inhale and exhale, as if regulating his senses.

Alastor hated the way you pouted at him as if he were some pitiful creature. “Awh, does someone crave what he wants?” You scoffed, swallowing a gulp of saliva as the tentacle on your pussy quickened its pace. you attempted to think of something, anything, that could postpone your orgasm.

Ah, you knew.

Angeldust said something about Valentino having a waterboarding kink. Honestly, the thought of Valentino was enough.

You grinned, tilting your head as you set your pace to be irregular. When you knew Alastor was at the edge, you stopped, then when you knew that it subsided, you would continue. “You thought I wouldn’t make you beg for it?”

Alastor couldn’t help the lewd noises he was making, letting out strangled moans and whines and huffs. Just who do you think you are, making the radio demon beg for you?

Well, you are his wife.

Alastor tried to fight the urge to give in, but the way you were teasing him and playing with his pleasure made him want to snap. He averted your gaze as he muttered something incoherent, but you knew what it was.

You slowed your pace on his cock again, tilting your head in feigned innocence. “I’m sorry, dear, I didn’t catch that. You better speak up.” Immediately after you spoke, you bit your lip and cursed internally. You were so desperately close because of what Alastor’s tentacles were doing to you. Hell, you weren't even sure if Alastor knew that his tentacles were pleasing you to the brink of insanity.

Alastor’s pride and ego got the better of him, though, as he mumbled it again, just a bit louder.

“Alastor.” You warned. “Speak. Up.” You quickened your strokes before slowing them down again, smiling as you got the reaction you wanted from Alastor.

“Hhngh, please, darling…” He moaned, his eyelids heavy. Alastor’s grin twitched once more in annoyance. “Please, finish what you started…”

You were going to say something before you felt you coming close. you cursed under your breath, something you didn’t know if Alastor heard you or not. And just as you was about to reach the highest peak, 

The tentacle against your pussy stopped its rubbing, and you whined, arching you back. You were grateful for it, though. You could tease Alastor even more.

“Awh, Alastor,” you taunted. “Surely you can do better than that…right?” You placed a kiss beside the tip, and Alastor suppressed (but horribly failed) the need to moan. “Beg like you mean it.” 

Alastor accidentally whined, his eyebrow twitching once he heard himself. “Please, darling… don’t tease me like this…” You gazed into Alastor’s eyes, a look of mischief on your face as you stroked quicker. 

He moaned heavily, his chest rising and falling at an alarming rate. “Fuck, please let me finish already…!”

Your eyebrows shot up at that crisp swear, you grin stretching from ear to ear. “You’re getting there, love.” The speed of your strokes gradually increased. Suddenly, you felt the tentacles again, but this time, it was just one. It was two.

You discreetly attempted to glance back, getting interrupted by the thicker one prodding your entrance. you gasped, trying to regain your composure and control over him. You tried your best to focus on Alastor instead. “You’re so cute when you beg; you know that, right?” You propped yourself on your elbows instead of having your other hand support you to play with Alastor’s cock more.

More quickly than he would have wanted, Alastor felt himself losing control. He let out an animalistic groan, gritting his teeth. His shoulders tensed once more as he felt himself getting close. He bucked his hips into your hands, the friction making him whimper ever so slightly. “Please…please, please, please please…”

You had never heard Alastor so whiny, so helpless. It was unlike him, just allowing you to assert yourself in this kind of situation. But hey, you didn’t mind. In fact, you loved it.

You should visit more often.

The hand closer to his tip massaged it with the thumb, making Alastor cry out in response. His breath was shallow and ragged, and his voice was breaking. His radio filter was long gone, and just the sound of his real voice made you go crazy.

You felt yourself nearing your climax, too. With how quickly the two tentacles were either massaging or pumping into you, you realized it was inevitable.

You decided it would be ideal if you came together.

You immediately quickened your pace against him, the fact his whole intimidating facade was gone with how he was muttering pleas made your heart pump, if undead hearts could do so.

Alastor felt kisses against his inner thigh, and that was what sent him over the edge. With a cry of your name, strings and strings of white translucent fluid released itself from his cock. His hearing was compromised with a ringing sound, but he heard you moan his name out just a couple of seconds after him, your grip against him tightening as you never stopped stroking.

His breath hitched as he realized that you weren't going to stop. “Wait, (Name)—” He whined, his head hitting the pillow behind him. It was too much; the feeling, the pleasure, just everything. He hadn’t even touched himself in decades, so to just have someone stroking him even after he came felt painfully pleasurable.

Thankfully, you stopped after some time, your grip loosening as you caught your breath. Somewhere during that time frame, your right hand made its way to his thigh, acting as a pillow for your cheek. your eyes trailed down Alastor’s twitching cock, and you grinned, liking a stripe from base to tip.

He shivered, his eyes closed as he held his forehead. He placed his hand down onto the mattress and… Why were there punctures in it?

Just as Alastor was about to ask, he noticed movement behind you, his brows furrowed. Then, he saw it. He saw the shadowy tentacles he knew were his.

His eyes widened slightly as he looked at the now flushed out you who was half-lidded with your ass in the air. “My dear?”

“Hmmmm?”

“Why are my tentacles…out?”

“Huh?” You glanced back and sweatdropped as you finally realized just how thick they were. No wonder You felt full. “Oh, they–” You cleared your throat. “They were…fucking me. I thought you knew that.”

Alastor’s eye twitched before he let out a chuckle. “Well, I apologize for that, dear. Though, I hope you can still take more, since,” he sat up straight, helping you fix your posture before picking you up by your hips and straddling you against him, your pussy just mere centimeters on top of his cock. “I’ll be handling you now.” Alastor glanced up to look you in the eyes. “Do you consent?”

“You know I always do.”

Alastor huffed out a laugh. “Whatever you say, darling.” He strained himself as he held every ounce of the animalistic urge that he had kept constrained as he made you sink down onto him. A guttural moan forced itself out and he started to grip your hips tighter, using that as a way to bounce you on his cock.

You always knew and understood how mating seasons work, from their cycles to the subject’s attitude during. Well, you needed to read about it; one can never have too much knowledge, right?

You weren't sure about one thing, though: if demons experienced the same kind of cycle that their animal counterpart did. Well, this explains it.

It was obvious that Alastor was attempting to help you adjust to his throbbing dick but just the idea of being inside you drove him towards the edge. He bucked his hips at the same rhythm you bounced on him.

Your mind was clouded with lust and pure bliss. Alastor’s cock was kissing your cervix one too many times, and it sent you to absolute ecstasy. your lips formed a lazy grin as you kissed him hungrily, causing his hips to stutter.

With no ounce of shame left in his body, he allowed himself to groan and whine at every thrust he did in you, savoring how warm everything felt. How ironically heavenly you made him feel. 

The only unfortunate thing in Alastor’s mind was the desire to breed. To fill you up until his cum splattered onto his mattress. He wanted to make a mess of you, and possibly himself in the process. Alastor needed to make sure you knew that you were his, and his alone.

Somehow his lips made their way to your neck, savagely nipping and sinking his teeth into your flesh until he tasted metal. That sweet intoxicating flavor that always drove him wild.

you dug your nails into Alastor’s back, feeling your climax rising up again. It wasn’t long until you were spewing curse words that would make a normal man break down and cry as you felt the cord in your stomach violently snap again. 

But Alastor wasn’t stopping. He started to prioritize his release the moment he slipped inside of you. His pace never faltered; in fact, it quickened at an inhuman speed, causing your gasps of air to be just hiccups.

“You’re making me see stars.” He whispered into your ear, desperate and whiny. He could feel that build up happening again, and this time, he was going to get what he wanted as quickly as possible.

Fuck, just the idea of him cumming inside of you almost broke him. He knew that since you were both sinners, you could no longer have children, but it would never hurt to try, right?

His grip against your hips tightened to ground you in place as moaned as loudly as you had ever heard him. He pumped inside of you, thrusting harshly yet slowly until he felt himself fully inside you. you gasped, feeling your pussy stretch until something absolutely huge squeezed itself inside you.

Wait, did Alastor just–

Loads and loads of cum painted your walls, filling you up to the brim. Alastor’s teeth bit your shoulder as he released inside of you. you felt your mouth dry as you finally gasped for air, involuntary moans coming out for you.

You stayed like that for a minute or two, chests heaving as you caught their breath. Alastor’s knot finally deflated, yet it felt like he didn’t want to leave the position. However, you were still at the hotel, and the others might probably be looking for them.

Even worse, they might think they did something steamy.

Well, you did, but Alastor didn’t want that thought in their heads.

He planted a kiss on your forehead, his lips slightly burning from your skin. “We should get going, my dear.” He whispered, his radio filter back on.

“Did you know you could do that?”

“Do what, love?”

you looked at him through lazy eyes. But even if you did, he could practically feel the mischief beaming through them. “Knot.”

Alastor stitched his eyebrows together, confused. “What’s…knotting?”

you tilted your head. “You don’t know how your cycles work?” He averted your gaze, his ears flopping down in embarrassment. “I’ve never really done this before, dear.”

Your grin turned devilish. “Well…”

Oh, deer (hah). It’s going to be a long night for them.

“Where is Alastor?” Charlie asked, looking around. “I’ve been trying to call him for an hour or so but I haven’t seen him.”

Angeldust snorted before it turned into a cackle. “Like I said, toots! He’s probably in his room, fuckin’ the shit outta (Name).”

“I really doubt tha–” “Good evening, everyone!” Alastor exclaimed, his usual outfit now on. His grin remained constant as he wrapped an arm around your waist. “I do apologize for not being present for the past couple of hours. I had some business to do.”

“Yeah, her.” Angeldust mumbled, a smirk on his face. He lifted his face to look at you. “How was it?”

You just smiled, tilting your head. At that, the whole crew saw what you were trying to show.

Marks and marks of bites all over your neck, bruising it a little. They were surprised that it wasn’t bleeding with how wounded it was. 

Angeldust’s mouth went agape with a smile. He wasn’t entirely serious about that statement, but for it to actually be true? This was a day he never saw coming. “Ho-holy shit!” He exclaimed with a laugh. “I didn’t realize it was actually true!” 

[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.)

[urhoneycombwitch]

frozen like an angel

Eddie Munson x shy!Reader holiday edition.

foreword: ohhhh I’ve missed them!!! and you all!!!! happy holidays to those who celebrate, and for those who don’t, have a cozy winter fic <3 here is the masterlist for shy!reader, some references may be made to previous fics in the series but no beforehand reading required here. 

cw: Christmas activities, bittersweet fluff, Elizabeth Munson memories, mentions of Reader’s familial backstory (intentionally a bit vague, hoping to expand in future fics!)

wc: 2.8k

___

You’re not even trying to snoop- the paper flutters to the carpet all on its own, freed from the stack of Eddie’s notebooks you’d lifted to dust under. 

Expecting it to be something D&D related, you scoop it from the carpet with the intent to slip it back between the leaves of a random book- when the title catches your eye. In neat, looping black ink across the top: Christmas Apple Cake. 

There’s a pencil-drawn sketch of an apple in the top corner, faded and yellowed with time like the paper it’s on; your thumb runs over it as you scan the ingredients. 

This’ll be perfect, actually- Wayne is coming over tonight for holiday drinks with you and Eddie, a Munson family tradition that’s included you the last six or so years, and you haven’t sorted dessert yet.

The recipe is simple- a hearty, apple-filled spiced cake base, brown sugar glaze to pool on top. After hunting through the kitchen cupboards (sometimes it’s glaringly apparent you live in a former bachelor pad- the baking soda sourced from under the sink and a layer of dust), you get to work baking.

A pound of apples is peeled and diced, meticulously, to the tune of a Bing Crosby record- Eddie bemoans the cheesier aspects of holiday music, so you get your fill while he’s at work (though you’ve caught him humming along to White Christmas on more than one occasion). 

Not that either of you need the money after the generous nest-egg from various government agency pay-offs, but the part-time mechanic schedule has been good for Eddie. Wayne’s pretty much set to take over when the garage owner retires next year, and Eddie is happy to help- keeps his mind and hands busy, sorely needed after so much recovery downtime. 

And you’ve been busy, too- the apples are set to soak in cold water while you prep the batter, thinking of post-winter break classes already. You passed your first end-of-term exams with flying colors, like Eddie knew you would- never mind that they were all 101s, and that your college plans seem a little directionless- at least you’re moving. Able to do something other than waiting to get better.

Eddie’s proud of you, deeply so. That’s really all that matters for now. 

With the batter mixed, you lift handfuls of apple chunks from the water to dry on the rows of flat kitchen towels. There’s a burst of static from the living room speakers; you flick water from your hands and cross swiftly to flip the record to its B-side.

Let It Snow! rings out cheerily while you stir the apples bit by bit into the batter, Deck the Halls by the time you’re pouring the mixture into a greased baking tin. After twisting the counter timer to tick down for an hour, you clean the kitchen in good spirits.

Eddie will be home, soon- Wayne’s closing up shop, which gives his nephew plenty of time to beat him home and cook you all dinner. There’s a tender strip of beef marinating in the fridge with something Eddie referred to yesterday, ominously, as “Grinch Juice”. (The pale green of the sauce is likely due to the rosemary. You think.)

Eddie’s got the meal covered, regardless. (Plus there are always frozen pizzas to fall back on.)

The air swells with warmth from the oven, taking on a sugared, nutmeg and applesauce smell; the little window over the sink fogs over with sweet steam, making the white-snow world outside look even dreamier. Lights twinkle from the front banister, winking at the strip of sister lights across the path at the Mayfield’s door.

Plucking behind your back to loose your apron strings, you realize- for the first time in years, it feels like Christmas. Last year, you were all still learning how to be human, still nursing wounds (both external and in), stepping cautiously onto the thin ice of what it means to survive and be alive.

This year, though? You’re out in the middle of the frozen pond of life making snow angels. Ice skating over the bumps. Twirling around hand-in-hand with Eddie as you both figure it out, together.

Later, the front door creaks open then slams shut, a rhythmic thump of boots shedding snow onto the hall mat. From your vantage point on the couch- sock feet tucked underneath your body to keep warm, dog-eared Tolkien in your lap- you see Eddie before he sees you.

His back is turned as he toes off his work boots, hunched against the cold still in a hand-me-down winter coat of Wayne’s. Stray curls escape the half-up bun of his dark hair, twisting around his face, which lights up with a smile when he sees you.

“Well, well, well,” Eddie says, adopting a faux-serious, low tone as he hangs up his coat and shakes the snow from his hair. “Looks like we got an escapee from Santa’s Workshop.”

You snort, setting the book aside to roll your eyes fondly- if a red flannel shirt and jeans spells elf, you’re willing to play the part. 

Eddie approaches with menacing intent, grin so wide the corner of his lip meets the line of scarring at his cheek. 

He’s still in his work coveralls, pinstriped and oil-stained; Eddie leans his weight into his hands on either side of your head, close enough to bump noses, couch emitting a squeak of protest. 

You flick at the embroidered patch over Eddie’s heart, the one that currently reads JERRY. “Someone’s been naughty today.”

Eddie clicks his tongue, dark brows pulling together in his best approximation of someone who is very sorry. “Yeah. Guess so. You gonna tell the Big Boss on me?”

”Wouldn’t dream of it,” you sigh, tired of playing, ready to loop your arms around Eddie’s neck and kiss him silly (an action he’s more than willing to give in to).

He tastes like sharp mint, and faintly of the cigarette he probably had on break; Eddie mumbles something between kisses and you pull back just enough to hear him say, “You taste sweet.”

“Mmhm. Had to make sure the batter wasn’t poisoned,” you reply, more concerned with dotting kisses along the line of scar that disappears behind his jaw. 

Against your temple, Eddie’s lashes flutter in surprise- “You baked something?”

Pulling away fully now (with one last parting kiss to his forehead), you narrow your eyes as you shift to hold his shoulders at arm’s length- “Does me baking come as a shock to you?”

“No!” Eddie says, quickly, brows lowering from where they’d shot up just a second ago. “No, of course not. You just don’t usually… I mean, I like being the one in the kitchen.”

”I know you do.” Your hands trail to cup his elbows, briefly, before you disentangle yourself to check on the oven. The timer is just about to shriek its warning chorus- with a twist of your hand, it dings pleasantly instead. “I wanted to make something special for our Christmas dessert tonight. Hopefully it’s not actually poisoned.” 

Based on the delicious smell that wafts from the oven, you’ve got nothing to fear- the tines of your testing fork come out from the middle of the cake clean, a pair of mitts snagged to pull it out and set on the stove.

Clouds of steam rise from the fresh pastry, spiced and golden under the overhead lights- it smells like Christmas in a pan. Eddie approaches to watch over your shoulder, his hand steady on your low back as you explain the glaze that needs to be made next- he takes a lungful of fragrant air, and then his hand stills.

Eddie isn’t in the habit of interrupting you, so it’s strange when he does, voice sounding strained as he stumbles through the start of a few different sentences. “How did you- this is- that’s apple cake. My mom’s apple cake. What…”

It must be the smell, transporting him back, and for a moment, your heart sinks. Eddie hasn’t had a flashback in so long; the last one was months ago over the summer when a car backfired and sent his mind spiraling for hours after. 

You turn in his arms, speaking carefully, ready to soothe- “Shit. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, honestly, the recipe just fell out when I was moving your things, and I-”

Eddie’s eyes are brimming with tears when he interrupts you again- this time, to kiss you; there’s a slip of his tear that tracks down your own cheek as you kiss him back. 

He’s holding you, now, mirroring you from earlier, thumbs squeezing at the inside of your elbows, forehead resting in a slow roll against yours as he shakes his head in disbelief. “Don’t apologize. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I didn’t know… I didn’t think any recipes of hers survived the move from Tennessee.”

“It was in one of your old journals,” you murmur, reaching to wipe the wet track of tears from his face even as he moves to do the same for you. “Did your mom used to make this for you?”

“Yeah.” Eddie laughs, wetly, kisses the palm of your hand where it rests against his face. “Every Christmas until I was five or so. Got the recipe from her mom, some Appalachian tradition. Wayne would know better than me.”

Eddie’s looking at the cake again, a familiar hazed-over stare that makes your heart hurt in sympathy, memories flooding back in at an overwhelming degree. You’re quiet for a few moments, pressing your face into the side of Eddie’s coveralls, letting him find his footing before asking, quietly- “Wanna help me make the topping?”

In another life, you and Eddie would run a mean kitchen together- years of learning the distinct ways in which the other moves comes in handy when you need to share cooking duties. 

He ducks under your arm effortlessly to grab vanilla while you whisk the sugars and butter, adds splashes and dashes of things to your bowl periodically until the mulled glaze is formed. 

The top of his (Jerry’s) coveralls were shoved down earlier, your help enlisted to tie the long sleeves around his waist in a makeshift apron; good thing your boy runs hot- means he’s comfortable enough to cook in a white cutoff undershirt that’s thin as a napkin. Underneath, Eddie’s all alabaster, lean muscle, black ink tattoos dancing with the corded ripples of scar tissue as he flits around the kitchen.

Between getting the steak ready to sear, and tasking you with prepping the hill of potatoes, Eddie talks about his mother- holidays of years past floating to the forefront on a wave of recollected smell. 

Along with Tennessee apple cake, Elizabeth Munson would wrap chestnuts in tin foil to roast low and slow in the embers of a Christmas fire. One year, she penny-pinched enough to buy part of the neighbor’s turkey for her and then-five-year-old Eddie.

You soak up all these memories, asking questions periodically, immersed in Eddie’s storytelling. It’s rare to hear Elizabeth’s name, and you wonder, suddenly, if that could be changed.

“You know, I really like hearing about her,” you tell Eddie gently, after a gleeful retelling of the time she crashed his sled into the big stump of maple at the edge of their woods. You give the chopped potatoes on your cutting board a push, and they tumble into Eddie’s proffered bowl. “If there’s something I can do, to help… I dunno, make it easier to bring her up- you’d let me know. Right?” 

Eddie considers this as he gathers jars from the narrow spice cupboard, lining them up in a neat row. “Yeah. Thanks, sweetheart. And it’s not… you’re easy to talk to. It’s just hard, sometimes, to learn how to remember her.”

You nod, thoughtful, watching him layer spices and olive oil into the bowl; he uses a wooden spoon to make sure all the potato sides are coated before saying, “And sometimes, it feels downright braggy. I got six whole years with her- most all of ‘em good ones- it’s not something I take for granted. And your mother-”

Eddie cuts himself off, abruptly, knuckles glistening with oil as they tighten into fists. Something inside you wilts, stretches desperately for its light source; you budge up under Eddie’s arm, place a hand to the middle of his chest where his breaths meet you with a shuddery kickstart.

“I know. But you were a kid too, Eddie. Six is just a kid.”

He does his best to hug you back with one arm as your nose seeks the notch behind his ear, a perfect fit, enveloping your senses as you breathe in the spot that smells most like him. “You can share however much or however little you want, of her, with me. Just ‘cuz my parents sucked doesn’t mean I don’t wanna hear about your one good one. Let me live vicariously, okay?”

You give Eddie a teasing little shake, a flash of teeth against his neck that has him chuckling, shaking off the anger before either of you can be derailed. The potatoes are moved to a baking sheet while Eddie preps the meat, and you send a river of brown sugar glaze over top the cake so it has time to cool.

If Wayne notes the missing piece from the corner of the dessert, later, he doesn’t mention it- the whiskey he’d brought over pairs perfectly with the rich, spiced cake. 

One bite in and Wayne’s head turns, slow, to his nephew sat beside him. Without looking up from his spoonful of melting ice cream, Eddie nods. “Yup. Mom’s cake. Don’t look at me, though.”

Wayne blinks down at the bowl in front of him, then to you, like someone’s woken him from the middle of a dream. “Tastes just like how she used to make it.”

Were it possible to bottle and live off someone’s praise, you’d like to find a way; instead, you tuck the compliment away for a rainy day and give him a warm smile. “I’m glad. I’ll make it next year, too, if you want.”

After dinner (totally delicious despite Eddie’s best attempt to scare you both off with increasingly weird holiday-themed adjectives), Eddie pulls out his acoustic guitar to try his new capo, a gift from Uncle Wayne that’s immediately put to good use.

This autumn, on the same week you went to college for the first time, Eddie taught himself how to play guitar again. A year on from the attacks, his left hand was still stiff, a deep scar across the bridge of his abductor that made more dexterous movement near-impossible.

But your boy, smart and strong and determined, found a way. Eddie surprised you over Thanksgiving break with a cover of Fleetwood Mac’s Hypnotized, though with multiple false starts since both of you cried most of the way through it.

Less tears, this time around, but no less emotional- you steal glances under the pretense of wiping down the table as Eddie sits wide on the couch, black guitar propped on his knees while he adjusts the capo. 

In a nearby armchair, Wayne takes a sip from his whiskey glass- at the first few notes of Edelweiss, his eyes slip closed, lost in memory.

“This was one of her favorites,” Eddie says to you, grinning while his fingers pluck the pattern smoothly.

You lean a hip against the table, wiping abandoned, taking in the gentle movement of Eddie’s hair, his arms, while he plays. He gets so lost in the music, sometimes- a soft look that usually only shows when he’s sleeping peacefully. 

You wonder if Elizabeth looked the same, all those years ago- bent over her special Christmas cake, sneaking tastes on the back of a spoon to the set of dimpled hands that reached for her apron. 

In your back pocket, the recipe card in her handwriting is tucked safely away. While Eddie plays, your fingers brush the outline of the pencil-etched apple, sending a prayer or a wish of some sort to the snow angel in your head.

He’s doing great. He’s so loved and cared for, with me. I hope you know I’m taking care of him. Merry Christmas. Thanks for the cake. 

___

for more shy!Reader content: masterlist

[rhiannonsknife]

thinking about rhiannon and her truck…

rhiannon who picks you up and takes you home in it. who might even lets you decorate it a little bit, now that it is no longer needed at her dad’s work. it’s subtle, but still a reminder that you’re hers now. that she’s taking a part of you with her wherever she goes, with a sweet little reminder in the form of a tiny figurine you left on her dashboard.

kinda obsessive rhiannon, who follows you around in it to make sure you’re okay and protected. you’ll be out and about when you notice her truck, clearly following you. it’s not even that close, but you’d notice that car anywhere; how it parks when you stop at a cafe to and catch up with a friend, and how it’s still in the exact same spot when you leave again.

rhiannon who takes you out on dates in it like it’s a show off. it’s not a fancy car by any means, but it’s her signature vehicle. and she takes pride in being your chauffeur and taking you out in it so you’ll let her have her fun with it.

rhiannon who fucks you in her truck!! car sex with rhiannon, guys, car sex with rhiannon. need i say more?? no. but allow me to elaborate:

rhiannon who puts her hand on your thigh as she drives you home from a date. who inches her fingers up higher throughout the ride until she’s practically cupping you through the denim of your pants. she smiles when she hears the way your breath hitches, then applies some extra pressure and grinds the heel of her hand against your clit. it doesn’t take long until you’re grinding your hips against her and she’s quietly praising you, all while steering the car like she’s not rubbing you through your clothes. “do you like that, baby?” she asks, eyes set on the road. “you know anyone who might drive by could see you like this, right? could see how much of a mess you’re making. bet you’re leaking through your pants for me, aren’t you? and i haven’t even touched you properly yet…”

rhiannon who makes you ride her in the driver’s seat. when she can’t wait to get home, she’ll park the car somewhere off the road and fucks you right then and there. she doesn’t even have to tell you what to do: once you spot the bulge in her skirt, you’re climbing into her lap, grind against her through the fabric until you’re both panting into the other’s mouth, then take it in your hand and guide it to your dripping core. rhiannon’s moans are almost as loud as your own as you sink down on it and start bouncing on her until the windows of the car are all foggy and the only thing that can be heard over your moans is the sound of skin slapping together.

rhiannon who bends you over the dashboard, presses your face against the windshield and fucks you hard from behind when she’s pent-up or you’ve been giving her an attitude. she doesn’t stop when people get a little to close either, no. instead, she picks up her pace and fucks you even harder. “you gotta be quiet for me” she pants into your ear as she slams the whole length of her into your wet cunt. she’s so deep you can feel her in your throat. “we don’t want them to see you like this”

rhiannon who eats you out in the passenger seat. who loves to feel your thighs tremble around her head as she buries her tongue deep inside of you, who loves the way you taste and the way your moans echoe through the tight space. who loves it even more when you pull on her hair or hump her face until you cum all over her mouth.

rhiannon who simply loves to have you in her car. who’ll take every chance she can get to fuck you in it, even when it’s literally already parked in her driveway. god, rhiannon and her truck <33

guys, it’s 2 a.m. this probably sucks ass, but i’m trusting myself enough to post it without beta reading beforehand. which is never a good idea. but whatever. good night.

[alisonsfics]

off limits - part five

pairing: brother’sbestfriend! henry cavill x reader

summary: henry was best friends with your brother, theo, which meant despite the clear chemistry between you two, you both had chosen to not date.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: swearing

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 6 coming soon

After getting the ominous text from Theo, your mind had been racing a million miles a minute. You had no idea why he suddenly wanted to hang out with you and Henry, specifically. Theo wasn’t even really supposed to know that you and Henry had been spending time together.

You tried to distract yourself with a whole lists of hobbies, but your mind kept running back to wondering what Theo wanted to talk about. Theo wasn’t normally very secretive. He was normally an extrovert who didn’t keep anything in. You started preparing yourself for the chance that Theo knew about you and Henry.

Theo had sent you an address for some gala being hosted by the company he worked for. The only other information he gave you was that you’d talk once you got there.

You tried to assure yourself that if he was going to yell at you for dating-but-not-dating his best friend, he probably wouldn’t have picked a public event.

You got dressed up, as the invitation mentioned, and arrived at the gala way earlier than you were supposed to. You hadn’t seen or spoken to Henry since you got the text from Theo. You both were mentally spiraling and needed some time to think.

When it was finally an acceptable time, you headed into the lobby, where you saw Henry waiting. He was sitting on a bench, anxiously tapping his leg.

He gave you a soft smile once he saw you. He was so anxious that he couldn’t even force himself to stand and give you a hug.

“Theo here yet?” You asked him, trying to keep your hands from shaking. He shook his head. “Haven’t seen him yet,” he told you.

You grabbed your phone out of your purse, hoping you could distract yourself. It didn’t work. You anxiously switched between your Instagram feed and your email for ten minutes, until Theo showed up.

When Theo finally walked through the door, you and Henry practically jumped. “Hey, Theo. How are you?” You asked, giving your brother a quick hug. You were partially convinced that if you acted like everything was okay, maybe it would be. “Hey, guys. It’s good to see you both.” Theo said, also giving Henry a hug.

“So, you guys are probably wondering about my text. I’m sorry that I was so vague, but I was worried that neither of you would agree if I told you beforehand.” Theo started to explain.

Your fears that this was about you and Henry started to fade, but they were replaced by fears that this was worse.

“So, you both know that you’re the maid of honor and best man at the wedding, which me and Sarah are so happy about. But, we knew neither of you had a date yet to the wedding, so me and Sarah wanted to set you both up.” Theo finished explaining.

You and Henry were stunned. You glanced over at Henry, trying to read his expression. You both had been so worried about Theo finding out, and now, it sounded like he wanted the two of you to be together. You weren’t sure what you were hearing. Neither one of you knew how to respond.

“So, Sarah’s on her way in with two of our friends. We think you’ll love them. For you, we have my coworker Todd. He loves all your favorite movies, and he’s really into cooking. And Henry, Sarah has this friend named Mia, who owns this little bakery downtown. And if all goes well, maybe they could be your dates to the wedding.” Theo said, causing a pit to form in both yours and Henry’s stomachs.

Theo wasn’t setting you up with Henry. He was setting you both up with different people. You couldn’t even tell Theo that you weren’t interested because both your dates already in the parking lot.

“Alright. One of you say something, please. You’re scaring me.” Theo said, noticing your stunned reactions.

You were pissed. Theo had ambushed you.

“What’s to say? They’re already here, aren’t they?” You said, with a slight bitterness. Henry and Theo both picked up on it, but neither of them mentioned it.

Then, the front door to the lobby opened, and Sarah walked in with two people behind her. Sarah smiled at you both, unaware of the awkward tension in the room.

“Hey, guys. This is Todd and Mia.” Sarah said, introducing you all. You politely smiled at Todd, who was giving you an expectant look. “Shall we?” He asked you, holding out his arm for you. You reluctantly held onto his arm, and he led you into the banquet hall.

Henry didn’t realize how protective he was over you until he saw you with Todd. It made Henry sick to his stomach.

Todd brought you over to your assigned table. You glanced at the name tags and realized that all six of you were at one table. Todd pulled out your chair for you, but you still didn’t even want to look at him.

“So, you work with Theo?” You asked with a desperate attempt at conversation. Todd nodded his head and starting rambling about his job. You watched Henry, Mia, Theo, and Sarah start heading towards your table and prepared for the disaster that you knew would occur.

You zoned out as Todd rambled on and on. Henry gave you a sympathetic look as he sat down. You’re weren’t mad at Henry in anyway, but for some reason, you hoped that he would stand up to Theo and fight for you. You knew it was a crazy hope and that Henry wouldn’t do it. Henry had promised you that he’d keep whatever your relationship was a secret from Theo. He wouldn’t break that promise without your permission.

As if you weren’t feeling upset enough, watching Mia practically drool over Henry wasn’t helping.

“I’m going to go get a drink. If anyone wants to come with.” Sarah excused herself, starting to pick up on the tension. “We’ll come with you,” Mia volunteered, grabbing onto Henry’s hand.

You watched Henry’s eyes widen as he was dragged away from the table. “While they’re gone, I’m going to run to the bathroom real quick. I’ll be back in a minute.” Todd excused himself as well.

“So how do you like him?” Theo asked from across the table as soon as Todd was out of earshot.

You refused to look at Theo. You fixed your attention on the other side of the room and didn’t budge. “Hello? What’s wrong?” Theo asked you.

“I’m fucking pissed at you. That’s what’s wrong.” You snapped at him. Theo looked genuinely shocked by your response. “You’re mad because I…got you a date?” He asked, confused.

You rolled your eyes, running a hand through your hair. “No, I’m mad because you ambushed me. You didn’t ask if I was interested, and I couldn’t have said no because he was already here.” You ranted. Theo was trying to reason with you, but all the stress from hiding your feelings for Henry was bubbling up.

“I was just trying to be helpful. I just want you to be happy.” Theo told you. You believed him, and you knew he had good intentions, but sometimes his execution was shit. “Maybe I already am happy. Maybe I don’t want to be in a relationship right now. Just because you’re getting married doesn’t mean I have to. I mean, I get enough of this shit from mom. I don’t need it from you too.” You said, standing up from the table and walking away.

You started walking towards the lobby again. You walked past the bar, and Sarah and Henry saw that you were fuming. “I’m gonna go check on her. Can you get me a drink?” Henry asked Mia, to which she quickly nodded.

Henry followed you into the lobby. “Hey, wait up. It’s me.” He called after you. You stopped when you recognized his voice. You turned around to face him and a few tears rolled down your cheeks.

“Talk to me,” Henry said, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a hug. You hated how safe you felt with him. You wrapped your arms around him, holding onto him like it would make your problems go away. “I am so fucking pissed at Theo for this, and this has all been so much recently. I’ve just fucking had it.” You rambled.

Henry rubbed your back as you ranted to him. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain so much. I mean, you’re going through this too, and I haven’t heard you complain once.” You apologized.

Henry took your hand and pulled you over to one of the benches against the wall. He sat down next to you. “You’re allowed to complain all you want. This fucking sucks. And trust me, I am just as upset as you are.” He comforted you, moving a strand of your hair behind your ear. You never felt alone when you were with Henry.

“You’re such a good listener. You should be my therapist. God knows I’m gonna need one after tonight,” you joked, laughing as you wiped another tear off your cheek.

“I hate seeing you cry.” Henry said, grabbing one of your hands in his. He ran his thumb over the back of your hand.

You saw a flash of doubt in Henry’s eyes for a split second, and then he cupped your face with his free hand. Then, he slowly leaned in to kiss you. It wasn’t like any of the other times you’d kissed Henry. Normally, it was heat of the moment and rushed. This was different. It was slow and sweet.

You leaned into the kiss. Butterflies swirled around inside you. You interlaced your fingers with Henry’s. It was magical.

Henry could feel you smile against the kiss. For a second, his feelings for you were simple. In that moment, he didn’t care about anything else, especially Theo. He just wanted you.

“Hey, Theo said you ran off. I wanted to come check on you.” Todd said, bursting into the room before realizing what was going on.

You and Henry froze. You half expected Henry to jump away from you. He didn’t. He let his hand rest on your waist. “I’m sorry. We really had no idea Theo was going to set us up. Theo doesn’t know about this. Please, don’t tell him.” You apologized.

Todd nodded and left you both alone.

Henry quickly stood up. “I need to go talk to Mia.” He said.

“That’s your first reaction after kissing me?” You asked him, half teasing.

“I need to tell her that there is somebody else who makes me very happy. I don’t want to lead her on when I am one thousand percent crazy about you.” He said, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“What do we do about Theo?” You asked him.

“I think we should talk to him and see how he reacts. There’s so much stuff going on with the wedding in three weeks, but I think we should talk to him after the wedding. I know that’s still a while from now, but I don’t want him to be stressed about the wedding when we talk to him.” He suggested.

You pulled him in for a hug. “I’m going to go hang out with Sarah. I’m not really in the mood to talk to Theo yet. But we’ll talk soon, okay?” You told him. He nodded and smiled before you left.

Then, Henry went to find Mia. “Hey, can we talk?” He asked her. She quickly nodded.

“I had no idea that Theo and Sarah were setting us up today. I don’t want to lead you on, and there’s this girl. I mean, it’s complicated, but it wouldn’t be fair to lie to you. Theo doesn’t know anything about it though.” He explained.

“Thank you for telling me. I really appreciate your honesty. And I totally understand why you’d be nervous to tell Theo.” She told Henry. Henry furrowed his eyebrows. “Wait, I’m sorry. What do you mean?” He asked her, curiously.

“Because she’s his sister,” Mia told Henry, as though it was clear as day.

Henry chuckled to himself. “I didn’t realize it was so obvious.” He admitted. Mia shyly nodded her head. “It’s just the way you look at her,” she told him.

They wrapped up their conversation, and Henry went back into the lobby to think. He wanted to seem confident and hopeful in front of you when talking about telling Theo, but Henry was terrified. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin his relationship with his best friend or ruin yours and Theo’s relationship.

The stress had really gotten to Henry over the past few weeks. He felt his eyes start to water from the pure stress and anxiety. He had no one to talk about these things with except you, and he wanted to be strong for you.

Theo walked into the lobby, startling Henry. “You mad at me too? My sister's pissed, and judging by the way Mia and Todd are making out, I’m assuming neither of you were interested in your dates.” Theo said.

Henry shook his head. “I’m not mad at you. Slightly irritated, but not mad. But, I couldn’t date Mia, Theo.” He told him.

Theo noticed the emotion in Henry’s face. “Hey, man, are you alright?” Theo asked, concerned. Henry just shook his head. “There’s this girl. And god, I want to be with her. I think about her all the time, and it fucking sucks because I know how amazing we could be together, but it can’t happen. All I really want to do is take her on a date.” Henry explained, wiping his eyes quickly and faking a smile.

Theo put his hand on Henry’s back. “No one can really stop you though. You should go be with this girl if she makes you happy. Don’t let anything stand in your way.” Theo assured Henry. Henry chuckled to himself at the irony. He knew Theo would have a very different sentiment if he knew the girl was his sister.

“It’s just way too complicated. You have no idea.” Henry told him.

taglist: @laurakirsten0502 @miraclesoflove @nathaliabakes @millipop18 @lillyssh-tposts @shyinadarkplace @vanteguccir @missroro @guacam011y @sw33t-cupid @ice-dtae @leyannrae @sia2raw @nyx2021 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @shyconversationalbookworm @shadowhuntyi @visenyaverse @ruzannetheseahorse @superdeath @wandaswifeyforlifey @spookyqueen @mcuswhore @bookwormchick91 @princess-evans-addict @n3ssm0nique @peakascum @cjand10 @namsey1987 @supernaturalstilinski @stephv213 @kingliam2019 @summersong69 @warriormirkwood @weirdpeoplecoolpeople @amalfoyandariddle @softestqueeen @shellyshellshell @wiesels @hannah9921 @luftmenzch @peaceinourtime82 @moonlightaura03 @kleinegamerin @henryownsme

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for all my imagines or for a specific character/fandom!!

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of canon One Direction fics that take place post-hiatus as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis/Harry -

🧡  Given a Chance by Fabby / @fabby1d

(E, 173k, small town) Five years after One Direction took their last tour, the last thing Louis Tomlinson ever expected to happen while on a tea run at the local Piggly Wiggly was to run into his ex-boyfriend and ex-bandmate Harry Styles.

🧡 The Greatest Thing by @infinitelymint

(E, 163k, fake relationship) Harry and Louis haven’t spoken since the band broke up when a dangerous combination of Niall Horan, tequila, and an ordained Elvis impersonator means that the two of them have to embark on their biggest publicity stunt to date - together.

🧡 You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) by auburnstargazer / @harryrainbows

(E, 95k, fake relationship) Harry and Louis are forced to fake-date after an old video from when they were dating emerges.

🧡 Stranger Than Larry Fiction by @larrysmomfics

(M, 90k, friends to lovers) A canon-divergent AU where Louis and Harry read Larry Stylinson fanfiction.

🧡 10 Years Later by Harriet1dfan

(E, 79k, friends to lovers) In the 10 years since One Directions' shock split in February 2015, Louis has been living a quiet life in Doncaster, trying to forget he was ever 1/5 of the world's biggest boyband. Until of course there is a televised reunion and tour.

🧡 Need So Much of You by @lululawrence

(NR, 46k, fwb) the would-have-been canon compliant, fake relationship, friends with benefits, friends to lovers fic where Louis wonders if this thing going on with Harry is going to break him or change everything for the better.

🧡  Roses & Violets by sincewewereeighteen

(M, 43k, Dunkirk set) Louis would’ve known beforehand that Harry was hurting and wouldn’t have let it get to this point in the first place. But then again, a little over a year ago Harry hadn’t broken up with him, so, there’s that.

🧡 What If I’m Someone You Won’t Talk About...? by Ioudloudlove

(E, 40k, exes) The one where Harry and Louis come face to face with each other after a painful break up six years earlier. They relive their memories in the build up to seeing each other and come to conclusions about the way things ended. 

🧡 Late Late by @taggiecb

(M, 29k, friends to lovers) 5 Years after Louis becomes a father, and the band takes a permanent hiatus, Louis Tomlinson finds himself hosting his first episode of The Late Late Show.

🧡 Baby, You Were the Love of My Life by therogueskimo / @bravetemptation

(NR, 24k, exes) He asks Liam if he can use his country house and set up a studio in his front room, and Liam agrees. Little does Harry know that Liam has an unplanned guest staying in that house - someone who saved him and ruined him in equal measure.

🧡 Tuca Tuca (ILikeYouILikeYouILikeYou) by @persephoneflouwers

(E, 4k, established relationship) The San Francisco getaway AU, where Harry is needy and Louis has a flight to LA in a few hours.

🧡 seven hours behind by @justanothershadeofblue

(E, 4k, established relationship) Louis's got a post-show buzz to work off, and a lover across the ocean who's just waking up for the day.

🧡  Finally Their Time by lightswoodmagic / @lightwoodsmagic

(NR, 4k, Met Gala) Harry and Louis attend the Met Gala together, and suddenly the whole world knows

🧡 Second Time's A Charm by The_Dizzy_Pixie

(M, 4k, injury) The one where Harry finds out Louis broke his arm. For the second time in one year.

🧡 Let Me Taste Your Silhouette by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28

(E, 4k, phone sex) the one where Harry accidentally posts a picture to his main Instagram story instead of only to his close friends, and he just happens to be wearing a 28 Official Programme shirt. Louis happens to notice

🧡 Let Me Take Care Of You by @tommokat

(M, 2k, hurt/comfort) Louis' in Poland with a fractured elbow and Harry's in California, but all he wants is to take care of him.

🧡 a mega fish butty by trackfive

(G, 1k, established relationship) louis is notoriously bad in the kitchen, but he figured a fish finger sandwich wouldn't be all too hard. what he didn't account for was the disruptive, half-naked cameraman who refused to help him slice a tomato.

🧡 Wading in Your Warmth by @insightfulinsomniac

(E, 1k, established relationship) The boys, in love and basking in the LA sun, share a private moment in the pool. aka a fic based on Louis’ recent Instagram story.

- Rare Pairs -

🧡 Kissing in the Rain by Writcraft / @writsgrimmyblog

(E, 93k, Louis/Nick Grimshaw) It starts at a party with shitty cocktails, a DJ that's definitely not as good as Nick and some 'that only happens in the movies' kissing in the rain.

🧡 Live a Thousand Lifetimes by Layne Faire / @laynefaire

(E, 57k, Zayn/Liam) After secretly writing and producing their first album in ten years, One Direction is weeks away from releasing their first new single and announcing a world tour.

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids,

It's difficult to write anything about the safety of Pride events without either greatly downplaying or exaggerating the potential risks of attending.

This is, at least partly, an online issue: the internet is international but there’s no international standard of safety for lgbt+ people. Someone reading this blog may be from a country where Pride events are generally safe and counterprotests are uncommon (or at least stay small and nonviolent) - but it'd be grossly negligent of me to pretend that this is true for everyone everywhere.

On top of those differences by country or location, there’s also individual safety concerns. Some things may pose a potential risk to certain groups or individuals while other people are unlikely to be negatively affected by them. This includes factors like crowds, loud music, exposure to alcohol or drugs etc. but also factors like the risk of being seen by someone who knows you or the risk of racist or antisemitic attacks etc.

All this is to say: I will happily share some general advice on safety with you – but if you’re trying to make a personal decision regarding the safety of attending Pride (regardless of whether that is “Is it safe for me to attend an event at all?” or just “How can I prepare for an event, so it’s as comfortable and fun as possible for me?”), don’t rely solely on me… or on any one voice you hear online. They may be in a totally different situation than you and inadvertently give you a totally wrong picture of it!

Tip Number One actually ties in with everything I said above: do you have friends (or other trusted people) who have attended Pride in your area before? If so, they may be a more reliable source of advice than a stranger online! Maybe you could even ask them to come along? Having an experienced Pride-goer with you is one of the best ways to ensure a safe and comfortable experience.

Other tips and pieces of advice that may be helpful:

Look the location up before you arrive: Which public transport stations are nearby? Where would you go if you need to buy a quick snack? Are there public toilets available? Where’s the nearest hospital or emergency room? Also note your surroundings when you arrive: Where are the exits? Are there any easily recognizable spots you could look for if you get lost? Where will you meet up with your friends or group if you accidentally get separated from them? 

Make a plan beforehand and share it with at least one trusted person. Let them know where you are going, who you are going with, how you plan to get there and back home (public transit, your own car, your friend’s car etc.) and when you intend to be back home. Make sure to keep them updated on any changes in your plans and ask them to check in regularly. Also agree on what they should do if they haven’t heard from you at the agreed time.

If you go with a friend or a group, agree beforehand how you’ll handle potential scenarios: what if one person wants to go home and the other(s) want to stay? What if one of you gets separated from the other(s)? (Don’t rely solely on texting/calling each other in such cases (phones can unexpectedly die, get lost, get stolen, have no cell service etc.))

Pride events often take place in summer, so make sure to keep sun/heat safety in mind! Wear sunscreen, stay hydrated, don't overexhaust yourself in hot weather and read up on the symptoms of (and first aid for) heat exhaustion.

If you want to stay safe and alert, your best bet is to stay sober. Don’t drink alcohol or take drugs. (If you do plan to do either of these things, then please keep basic harm reduction measures in mind: don’t drink on an empty stomach, don’t mix alcohol and meds, have at least one person in your group who stays sober, don’t drink & drive etc.) 

Make sure to take everything with you that you may need, such as a water bottle, snacks, any necessary medications, face masks, first aid supplies, a portable charger for your phone, emergency contact info (written down in case your phone dies), sunscreen etc.

Learn your rights when it comes to getting stopped by police (Make sure that what you read up on is actually true for your country and is up to date).

Read up on safety precautions for chemical irritation if the use of pepper spray/tear gas is a concern in your area. Same goes for active shooter situations. It may be a worst case scenario but it’s better to read up beforehand if it’s something you worry about.

Don’t engage with counterprotesters. Even if they seem nonviolent, keep in mind that they may just be waiting for you to provoke them, so they can “justify” escalating to violence. Just keep your distance, don’t talk to them, don’t let them bait you into conversation. 

Lastly, you want to keep everyone else safe too, so: make sure you don’t accidentally out anyone. Pride is supposed to be a safe space. Don’t take pictures of strangers, don’t upload anything on social media that shows anyone’s face or name if you didn’t get explicit permission to do so. 

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

[grimmweepers]

a platonic makeup session that gets real heated, real quick.

— ☆ contents: tsubakino x gn!reader. reader also wears makeup. sfw but suggestive at the end. kissing. self-ship coded. 0.8k. not proof-read. masterlist | byf/dni

Being friends with Tsubaki was a constant tease. He had this way of blending elegance with masculinity that always left you in awe. He’d sit there, perfectly poised in a skirt that hugged his hips, with lipstick that seemed to dare you to look at anything else—but beneath all that, there was this unmistakable strength to him. It was a contrast that made you wonder if you’d ever figure him out, or if he even wanted you to.

Today was no different. You both sat cross-legged on the floor of his bedroom, playing with makeup like it was just another casual afternoon. But the air felt different, like it was more charged. Maybe it was the way his manicured nails lingered on your skin for a second too long when he handed you a brush or how his gaze kept drifting down to your lips as you applied gloss. Either way, the curiosity you felt toward him was harder to shake off than usual.

“Hold still,” he said, leaning in close, the sweet, heady scent of him wrapping around you. His fingers tilted your chin up and you had to remind yourself to breathe as he carefully traced eyeliner on your lids.

“Easy for you to say,” you mumbled in response. You were trying your best to stay still even though his face hovered inches from yours. His hold on you was steady but you felt like you could start shaking at any moment.

You snuck a glance through your lashes and found him staring down at you. He was close—too close— and your heart thumped wildly in your chest.

What was he trying to do?

“Done~” he finally said in a sing-song voice.

But neither of you moved. You were practically nose to nose now and the air was impossibly thick. His lips, painted a deep and provocative red, looked far too tempting and for a moment, you both felt something that you couldn’t quite define. Something close to a zap.

“Tsubaki…” you whispered his name with a bit of confusion, a bit of urgency too. But you couldn’t complete your sentence when he leaned in a little more. The tension was so heavy in the room, it could’ve passed as a third presence.

He dropped his shoulders, “I’ve always wondered…” Tsubaki’s hand found your chin again and his thumb brushed over the gloss on your lips, smudging it just slightly.

You could hardly think, let alone speak.

And then, without warning, his lips were on yours. Everything else that had occupied your mind beforehand faded away.

The kiss was slow—hesitant, but laced with something that neither of you dared to acknowledge before. His lips were soft but eager, like he was testing the waters, and when you didn't pull away, he deepened the kiss, bringing you closer until you were basically in his lap.

Your hands tangled in his long hair, messing up the waves you helped style earlier as the heat between you flared to life.

The feel of his strong arms around your waist and his exposed thighs cushioning you underneath made you shudder. You found yourself clinging for more, desperate for more.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard, lips swollen and stained with each other’s lipstick. The look he gave you made your stomach flip. It was filled with something devilish and reckless, something you normally saw when he was going to perform—whether it was before a fight or at pub ougi.

“You know,” his hands trailed down your side, fingers teasing the edge of your shirt, “…I’ve got a few other things I wouldn’t mind trying on you.” There was a suggestive glint in his eyes, a sneaky pout forming at his lips.

“Like what?” You asked, still maintaining your playfulness.

“Do you really want me to say it?”

You bit your lip, twirling the bit of his hair that had fallen out of place, “Yeah, I do.”

Tsubaki laughed lightky, “It’s been hard pretending like I haven’t felt this way about you. I guess I was just confused,” he admitted as his other hand traced the curve of your jaw, “But now that I’ve got a taste of you, I think I want more—”

“Then don't hold back,” you whispered, your hand resting on his broad shoulders as you spoke. “Show me.”

He couldn’t hide his smile. That was all he needed before his lips crashed against yours with more intensity and hunger. The plush fabric of his skirt bunched up at his thighs while he explored underneath your shirt, trailing fire across your skin.

Tsubaki whimpered into your mouth as you curled your fingers against his chest, his breath hitching when his hand dipped lower, toying with the waistband of your shorts.

You let out a soft moan, aching for more of him. You were more than ready to see how far this would go.

“Thank you,” he tugged you closer, his voice thick with want as he rocked his hips against yours, “Because now I’m dying to know how you feel.”

a/n: i wrote this before bed last night. genuinely losing sleep over him

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

affiliations: @houseofsolisoccasum

divider by @/adornedwithlight