#two days late ummm anyways | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

earlysunshines · 1 month

Text

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.)

#kpop x reader #newjeans hanni #newjeans x reader #newjeans imagines #new jeans x reader #hanni pham #pham hanni #pham hanni x reader #hanni x reader #hanni pham x reader

690 notes · View notes

toruro · 1 year

Text

— ✧ oh my!

pairing: xu minghao x reader

description: choosing to be roommates with vernon chwe would undeniably be one of the few life-changing decisions you made in your lifetime. he brought along support, friendship, and most importantly: a hot friend. — or, in which you’re roommates with vernon and you happen to fall for one of his many chaotic friends.

tags: smut (18+), oral (m receiving), just stupid mutual pining, fluff, seriously self indulgent, mentioned past toxic/controlling relationships

w/c: 13.6k

a/n: REPOSTED. this was my first attempt at a kpop fic ever and my first time writing smut so please bear with how awkwardly written it is. a fic that was supposed to be multiple parts but i couldn't come up with a real plot either so ummm … nevertheless i hope u enjoy!

I. OH MY!

Moving in with Vernon is among your top life changing decisions, pretty much ever.

You two met in college, first sharing a calculus class together and occasionally studying together. Your friendship was budding—he was someone you could count on and never had to second guess. Spending more time together, you naturally grew closer, eventually reaching a point that when Vernon mentioned moving out of his shitty studio, you two immediately decided to find a place together.

Fresh out of college, it was the best decision in all ways possible—money was not nearly as big of a burden as before, and it was fun having a friend to talk to whenever you wanted in the vicinity of your own home.

It’s been an enjoyable eight months since you two started renting out this place together, and this evening, you’re in the kitchen cooking some brownies with an old package of brownie mix you found shoved in the back of one of your cupboards. You’re making a bit of a mess, but you can only hope that Vernon doesn’t mind too much—you will clean it, after all.

You’re in the midst of pondering about how long it’ll take you to clean up the little (big) splatter of flour you dropped on the ground when there’s a buzzing that comes from your phone. You huff, looking down at your fingers that are coated in oil and brownie batter. Setting down the bowl you were mixing, you then go to wash your hands as the buzzing dies out. After wiping down any moisture left on your skin, you pick up the phone to see a missed call from Vernon.

Did he forget something? you wonder, pressing the call back button and holding your phone up to your ear. You hear him pick up the line almost immediately, curious to know why he called you. “Hey,” you say casually when you know he can hear you. “Everything good?”

There are a few voices in the background that you hear, and you recall how he told you this morning he’d be hanging out with his friends. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s great. Look, I was wondering if it would be okay with you if my friends came over to our place? I would’ve asked earlier but I didn’t think we would be hanging out more and…well you get it,” Vernon sighs.

Your lips make a little ‘o’ shape, nodding to yourself as if Vernon could see you right now. “Yeah of course they can come over!” you tell him.

“Are you sure?” he clarifies, and you smile at the sincerity. “It’s just—I mean like they’re probably going to stay a while?” It comes out as a question and you laugh. “Don’t laugh at me,” Vernon grumbles, “I’m just making sure because they’re probably going to stay late in the night and there’s a lot of them.”

“Yes Vernon, I know there’s a lot of them—twelve to be exact,” you retort. “Yes, I’m okay with it, it’s not like I do anything these days anyways. I’ll be fine,” you tell him honestly.

“Okay, thank you so much,” he replies, relieved. “We’ll be there in like ten minutes.”

“Ten?!” you shrieked, quickly taking in the giant mess you made around you, baffled when you think about how you’re going to clean this up.

“Yes, sorry,” Vernon murmurs. “These guys change their minds so much and—ugh—you get it. We’re already close to the apartment complex so we’re just going to come up. Is there a problem?”

You hum, looking around you. “I might’ve made a bit of a mess in the kitchen, but…but I’ll figure it out.”

Vernon laughs. “I doubt they’ll care—most of them are dogs.” You giggle at the muffled protests heard in the background before he continues. “Anyways, thank you, I owe you one. See you in five.”

Your phone beeps when he hangs up and you stand by yourself in the middle of the kitchen. “Five?” you whisper to yourself, “Fuck! He said ten! But now five? Fuck!”

You whip your head around to look at the kitchen, grimacing as you’re dawned with the realization that there is no way you’re going to clean this up before they come. It takes you around 5 seconds to debate your options, finally deciding to just give up on trying to clean up and focus on finishing the batter and getting the pan in the oven.

You set your phone back down on the counter, picking up the batter bowl and giving it a few more stirs to rid it of any clumps before spreading it all out on a pan. It takes you a few moments to find the mittens and stick it in the preheated oven, a wave of relief washing over you when you’re done.

That’s one thing out of the way…I guess , you think to yourself, letting your hair down from the tight up-do you had it in earlier. Looking down at your black t-shirt and yoga pants, you take a few moments to try and dust off whatever flour rubbed off on the cloth. Of course, many stains still remain, but you figured this was better than nothing.

You’re about to grab a broom to clean up the floor when you hear a knock at the door. Sighing in defeat, you wash your hands once before heading to the door. You’re placing your hand on the door knob before you hear some clicking, hesitating to open once you realize it’s Vernon on the other end unlocking it himself. You step back from the doorway as the door is pushed slightly ajar, allowing you to poke your head through the small gap.

You’re met with the sight of multiple guys crowding around the door, a slightly frantic and honestly exhausted-looking Vernon leading the group. “Hey,” he greets as you step back once more, pulling the door open fully.

“That was less than five minutes!” you exclaim, trying your best to ignore the gazes of the unfamiliar faces behind Vernon. You’ve seen pictures of them before on Vernon’s social media and stuff but you don’t really know them at all—you’re only aware of bits and pieces from the stories he tells you occasionally.

“I’m sorry!” he puts his hands up in surrender, stepping through the doorway as you back into the kitchen that remained in the chaotic state you left it in.

“I didn’t have time to clean!” you whine, frantically waving your hand at the kitchen, allowing Vernon to take in the scene.

“Hey, hey, hey,” a new voice pops in and you see a hand snake it’s way around Vernon’s shoulders. A man with blonde hair and a chiseled face looks at you sympathetically. “It’s not Vernon’s fault,” he tells you calmly. “You can blame it on us for changing plans quickly. Don’t worry, Vernon feels bad about it, he told us.”

You sigh, a small pout making its way onto your face. “Fine,” you huff as the rest of the boys fill the large room that contains the kitchen and living room. You aren’t sure what to do now, watching them all shuffle around, taking off their shoes and attempting (key word: attempting ) to organize them in front of the doorway. You hadn’t really thought this far ahead—should you go to your room now? Would it be awkward to just hang around here while they’re in the living room (your kitchen and living room are basically one large room, so there’s no real way to avoid them)?

You’re glad Vernon picks up on your uncertainty. He turns to his friends, speaking up and saying your name, which catches you by surprise. “My roommate,” he clarifies, as they all look at you. You smile awkwardly, giving a small wave before averting your gaze. Vernon then turns around, pointing at the couch across the room, “Now can one of you set up the Mario Kart?”

The rest of the boys nod, beginning to break out into small conversations by themselves as they all make their way to lounge in the connected room, finally giving you a bit of space to breathe (not that they were making you uncomfortable or anything—you’re just a little shy).

“I’m sorry again,” Vernon tells you, and you can hear the genuinity in his voice. “What were you making, by the way?” he asks curiously, peering over at the mess.

“It’s okay! And I was making brownies—I found some old box mixes in the back of the cupboard and I figured I should make them before they expire,” you explain, looking over at his friends who have now settled in the living room comfortably. “Do your friends want some? I’ve made a big enough batch for everyone, I’m sure,” you tell him.

“Are you sure?”

“Vernon can you stop asking me if I’m sure,” you complain loudly, running a hand over your face. You hear a snicker come from the other side of a room, catching sight of one of Vernon’s friends seated on ground, a playful smirk on his face upon hearing your conversation. You feel your ears burn, quickly turning back to Vernon. “Yes, I just made them for fun. It’s better to share with them than have us eat all of it,” you chuckle, picking up a dustpan from the corner of the kitchen to begin cleaning up.

“Okay fine,” Vernon murmurs. “Thank you a lot,” he concludes, finally turning and joining friends on the couch. You begin your work to clean up the flour you dropped on the ground, getting lost in your own little world after slipping in your airpods, tuning out the noises of rowdy men and Mario Kart sound effects.

You’re practically done with cleaning the kitchen when you hear your timer go off, nearly skipping to the oven to turn it off and pull out the pan of brownies you’ve been putting so much effort into. The aroma floats through the room, and you catch the glances of a few of Vernon’s friends who peek over, trying to get a look at whatever you’ve come up with.

You smile to yourself, placing the pan on the counter before pulling out a knife to make nice, even pieces. It takes you a few moments, but once you’re done, you look down at them happily. Slipping on your mittens, you carry the tray over to the living room, a small, upwards curve pulling at your lips.

The boy you remember from earlier—the one who laughed at your reaction to Vernon—notices you first, and you can’t help but wonder how you didn;t recognize him from any pictures because holy hell he’s pretty. His eyes are looking at you through heavy eyelashes and there’s a coy smile tugging at his lips—he’s charming .

It takes you a good five seconds to realize you’re staring at him and another five to realize he’s caught you in the act. You whip your head away, looking at the rest of the boys, some of which who are intently focused on the game on the screen, others of which who are indifferent.

“Um, I made some brownies, if you guys want,” you tell them all, clearing your throat. “They’re fresh, so they’re a little hot, but you can wait for them to cool down.” You set down the pan on the table as the rest of them quiet down, some immediately spewing out words of gratitude.

“Aren’t you going to have any?” one of them asks, and you recognize him as the tallest. Mingyu? You recall some stories about him.

You shrug. “I kind of just made it because we had the boxes left…I think it’d be better if you guys shared it.”

Another boy with glasses sitting on the armchair speaks up. “You can eat it with us—our way of saying thanks,” he encourages. You throw out a close lipped smile, glancing at Vernon as if to ask if this was all just a show of politeness or an actual offer. He offers the slightest nod, and your once tight smile is let loose. You nod your head cheerfully, looking around you to find a spot to sit.

Noticing your confusion, the boy with the blonde hair and sharp face from earlier points to your right. “Sit next to Minghao, I’m sure there’s room there.”

You look down, met with the gaze of him , trying your best to hide your twinge of excitement as you silently shuffle over and sit down at the edge of the rug. Minghao . You like that name, you say to yourself in your head before shaking your head lightly—what are you thinking? You can’t be crushing on a guy you just laid your eyes on!

Inhaling sharply, you turn your head to the screen, grateful to see everyone else’s attention has also averted to the heated one-on-one match between the glasses guy from earlier (you now have learned his name is Wonwoo) and Mingyu.

They’re a loud bunch, but you can’t find it in you to mind—watching them all get along so well, so freely, is liberating in itself. You feel relaxed in a way you didn’t know you could be.

As content as you feel right now though, there’s an anxious thought buzzing at the back of your mind, and no matter how desperately you try to push it back, it keeps crawling its way up, especially when you feel your thigh brush Minghao’s .

Stop it , you chide yourself. Stop it! A little more harshly. Stop thinking about him!

“Hey…” the first time he says it, the words don’t quite reach your ears. “Hey,” he says again, nudging your thigh with his knee, increasing the minimal physical contact you two already had. You’re snapping out of your daze in an instant, whipping your head up to look at him . “You good?” he asks, and while you can tell he’s being sincere, there’s an almost playful smirk gracing his lips.

“Huh…oh, yeah,” you murmur, bashful that he caught you lost in your own head, thinking about him. “Just zoned out for a second,” you explain with an awkward laugh, pulling your legs into your chest and resting your chin on your knees.

“I could tell,” Minghao replies, and you can’t help but gaze at how cool he is as he reaches toward the coffee table, cutting himself a piece of the brownie. You watch him carefully as he takes a bite—you’re honestly just admiring his face, but you think you can brush off your shameless ogling as looking to see if he likes the brownie. He catches you staring, and you’re unsure of what he thinks of it, opening his mouth to talk again once he’s swallowed it. “It’s good,” he tells you, and you smile.

“I’m glad…it would have been kind of embarrassing if it wasn’t.”

“Don’t worry—chocolate isn’t even really my thing but I like it,” Minghao compliments, and you can’t tell if he’s being genuine or faux out of sincerity. Your grin brightens nevertheless as you sink back into the front of the sofa behind you, averting your gaze to the screen once again.

You’re feeling a little shy, of course, and the silence that now sits between you and Minghao isn’t uncomfortable or awkward, rather it’s…heart-warming. Your smile doesn’t leave your face as the room is full of cries and laughter and taunts as the results of the first round are revealed.

You sit in an amused silence, watching them for around another twenty minutes and even getting to play once (albeit your minimal effort—Mario Kart always gives you a headache anyways), before quietly standing up as the boys are cheering over Wonwoo winning yet another match. Minghao looks at you as you raise yourself above him, and your stomach churns at the way he raised a brow.

“Leaving already?”

You shrug casually. “I think it’s about time I get to doing my own stuff,” you explain, throwing out a small smile before retreating to your room before Minghao—or anyone else—can notice or say anything. You’re grateful Minghao didn’t make a scene about you leaving—it’s not that you don’t like the boys (far from it), but you’ve been tired the whole day and were looking forward to a nice nap.

Settling into your bed after shutting your blinds, you pull the covers up to your chin shooting a quick text to Vernon to make sure he wakes you up for dinner if you didn’t wake yourself up in time. You shut your eyes tight, doing your best to ignore the tight feeling that settles at the bottom of your stomach.

The second you identify the feeling, you squeeze your eyes closed tighter. Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Your words don’t aid you, of course, because all you’re thinking about his stupid fucking Minghao and his stupidly hot face and his stupidly cute smirk and the stupidly handsome way he looks at you and— oh my god you need to turn your brain off right now.

You settle on not breathing, trying to pretend you’re dead, in hopes it’ll lull you to sleep. Of course, the effect is the opposite of your intentions—the lack of oxygen only reminds you of the way Minghao took your breath away when you first noticed him.

You huff to yourself, rolling your body over so your face is pressed into the pillow as you quietly curse to yourself. “God, I’m so fucked,” you whine, childishly pounding your fists against the plush of your mattress.

You’re being immature, you know you are—like a child throwing a tantrum—but who can blame you? He’s just so pretty and that smile of his is so endearing and you can’t help but find yourself so falling for him.

It’s a miracle that you fall asleep at all, let alone so quickly. You figure the exhaustion from the past week has finally caught up to you, even with the onslaught of attraction that came your way after seeing Minghao.

When you wake up, it’s much darker. The sun hasn’t fully set yet, but the sky is painted a deep red which is bound to morph to purple within a few more moments before finally sinking into nighttime. You glance around and you realize that the only thing besides the outside light that’s illuminating your room is your bed lamp that you forgot to turn off.

You rub your eyes a few times, still in a bit of a groggy, drowsy daze, before remembering what woke you up in the first place—the knock on your door. “Hello?” you croak out, immediately slapping a hand over your mouth at the mangles sound that leaves your mouth. It’s quiet for a moment and you’re able to identify the faint voices in the rest of the apartment as Vernon’s friends.

Your mind is suddenly racing through the possibility of who could’ve knocked on your door and— oh my god! What if it’s Minghao?! What if he heard y—

You hear your name being called out softly and your speeding train of thought falters. It’s Vernon. Thank fucking god. “You up?” he says through the door and you pull the covers off of you to meet him at the door. Poking your head through the crack as you open it slightly, you squint immediately at the intrusion of light to your unadjusted eyes.

“Good morning,” you joke, stepping back to let him in. “Thanks for waking me up…jeez, I was knocked out,” you murmur to yourself, rubbing a hand over your face as you walk to your dresser to find yourself a comb. “What time is it?”

“It’s like six…the guys were worried that they were being too loud when I told them you were sleeping,” Vernon muses, pulling up his phone to scroll through something. “But I was like nah she sleeps through everything—and I was right,” he says with a laugh as you roll your eyes, trying to make yourself more presentable as you pull your hair back into a low do.

“Whatever…did you guys have fun? I’m assuming so since they’re still here…”

“Yeah, we’re ordering dinner right now. I told you they were gonna stay for a while. That’s why I woke you up too: I was gonna ask if there was anything specific you wanted—if you wanna eat with us of course,” he explains, holding up his phone to display the food delivery app he had opened earlier.

“Would that be okay? If I had dinner with you all?”

“Yeah of course, no one would mind,” Vernon assures you as you look at yourself in the mirror, fixing your hair, narrowing your eyes at your roommate.

“You sure?”

“Okay now you need to stop asking me if I’m sure,” Vernon huffs with a roll of his eyes followed by your laughter.

“Okay okay, fine,” you reply. “Give me like two minutes I’ll come out and we can decide something with everyone,” you say, ushering Vernon out. He puts his hands up in surrender, turning around to join his friends in the other room. After he leaves, you debate with yourself whether or not you should change or join the rest with your pajama pants and loose fit t-shirt.

Overcome with the still lingering drowsiness from your nap, you choose comfort, and decide to just throw on a loose cardigan over whatever you’re wearing now before stepping out of the room. A yawn escapes your lips as you enter the living room, catching sight of all the boys lounging around—some are seated on top of the kitchen island, legs hanging over the edge, while others are laying down on the couch with their feet kicked up, the rest with their legs folded on the ground.

You try not to stare at Minghao too much when he enters your line of vision, but the task is becoming impossibly harder the longer you look: he’s laid back on the couch, feet resting on a blonde boy—Jun, you think is his name’s—lap, and you don’t miss the way his arms are crossed behind the back of his head, shirt lifting up just enough to reveal a little bit of the skin that dons his torso.

You begrudgingly peel your eyes away from the marvelous sight when you hear someone call your name, heads turning to you once they realize you’ve finally joined them.

“About time,” the boy with sharp features from earlier—Jeonghan—says as a greeting, waving you over as he stands next to Vernon. “Come on, help us decide what to order.”

“D’you sleep well?” another asks, and you turn your head to see who’s speaking as you approach Jeonghan. You recognize the boy now as Seungkwan, and you smile while nodding. “I swear me and Chan thought you were dead!” he exclaims jokingly as you furrow your eyebrows.

The boy next to him shoots Seungkwan a death stare before speaking up, much to your amusement. “What Seungkwan means is,” Chan begins with a huff, “we were playing a game and Mingyu lost and he yelled and we were scared we woke you up but nothing happened!”

“I told you, she sleeps through everything,” you hear Vernon mumble from behind you, not missing the joking look that’s toying with his face. You roll your eyes and hit his shoulder, loud enough for everyone to hear and cause them to laugh, smiling internally at the reaction you were able to elicit.

“That’s not true!” you whine, looking over his shoulder to see what restaurants they were choosing from.

“Joking, joking,” Vernon mumbles, turning his phone so you could see better. “We’re choosing between Mexican and Thai. You can choose which, since we’re all pretty evenly split.”

You hum for a second, thinking about which you’re craving more, finally settling on, “Thai!”

There are some cheers that erupt behind you, and your face heats up right away when you turn around to see some of them (Minghao in particular) with cheerful smiles and fists of victory in the air. “Thai it is!” Vernon announces. “Tell me what you guys want,” he says before looking at you. “The usual?” you nod with a grin, backing away as he places the order while the others call out the array of dishes you want, making your way to the seating area to sit down by one of the sofas (totally not because that’s where Minghao was sitting).

As you settle down onto the ground, Minghao speaks up. “Do you want to sit here?” he asks, sitting up from his horizontal position, pulling his legs back to make space between him and Jun on the couch. Your eyes shoot up, darting between Minghao’s deep brown eyes and the space on the couch.

“Are you sure? You can lay down if you w—”

“Nonsense,” Jun says with a chuckle, and you can’t even comprehend what’s going on until you feel Minghao’s cool fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you up slightly as a direct invitation to take up the spot next to him. God his skin is so soft and his touch is demanding yet so gentle and it’s just enough to get the butterflies that you thought died off to be resurrected once more. “Our way of thanks for choosing Thai,” Jun tells you.

“Yeah,” Minghao agrees, and you try your best to focus on what he’s saying even if it’s impossibly hard with the way his body is pressed up right against you. He leans back as if to stretch his body, arms reaching back behind the couch and settling in the space behind you,

God, you feel like you could die on the spot—it’s not like he’s got an arm wrapped around you or anything so why does this feel so intimate? You can only hope and pray that he doesn’t feel the immense heat radiating off of you as you adjust yourself to sit more comfortably on the couch. In hopes to diffuse the tension that you’re kind of sure you’re the only one feeling, you speak up. “Do you guys want to watch something? A show? A movie?” you suggest reaching forward to pick up the TV remote from the coffee table.

“I’m down,” Wonwoo says with a shrug.

“Oh yeah!” Seungcheol speaks up, “I’ve been wanting to rewatch Batman for a while!”

“Batman then?” you, looking around at everyone as you click the remote to pull it up after you see the nods of their heads. You put on the movie, sinking back into the couch as you do your best to focus on the screen in front of you, and not the faint touch of Minghao’s arm to the back of your neck.

You’re successful for a bit, thankfully, but your peace of mind hardly lasts when the food comes in and everyone settles on the ground to eat—your and Vernon’s rule that there’s no eating curry on the couch. You, Minghao, and Jun slip from your spots on the couch and sit on the ground where your feet lay just a few moments ago, and suddenly you’re hyper aware of the little space you three are squished up against.

It’s a miracle, you think, if Minghao doesn’t notice the way your skin burns against his as his thigh is pressing right up against yours. This touch is different from the one in the afternoon—that one was…light…innocent. This one…this one’s different—it has you burning and yet shivers run down your spine. If you were a little bit more in your senses, maybe—just maybe—you would notice the tight lipped smile that tugs at Minghao’s li ps as well.

Oh my! Now the crush begins.

II. COME TO ME

That night, after the movie, the food, and some beer, the twelve boys shuffle out of the house at around eleven, murmuring soft and tired “thank yous” and “goodbyes.” You can’t deny that you’ve been…a little stiff the entire evening. Sitting next to Minghao for a good 2 hours wore you out—it was a constant battle between your moral consciousness and your…budding feelings.

Stop looking at him! You’d say one moment, but then, god—oh my god his hands! No! Stop! He’s so close to me —stop acting like you’re in middle school! But his smile is just so pretty, god he lights up the room , but wait, stop being so cliche!

Naturally, you're convinced you’ve gone insane. Once the boys left, you and Vernon are left in the comfort of each other’s silence before beginning to make small conversation as you guys begin to clean up (the others honestly didn’t leave that much of a mess, you were just a bit of a clean freak).

“Your friends are fun,” you tell him quietly as you throw out the food containers that you finished earlier. Vernon looks up at you with a small smile, and you can tell that he’s been anxious about you not enjoying your time.

“That’s good, I’m glad.”

“Why haven’t you brought them over before?” you ask curiously, pondering about how there might have been a chance you could have laid your eyes on Minghao ages earlier. “Aren’t they like your best friends?”

Vernon shrugs. “Well yeah, they are, but there’s a lot of them, like you saw. I didn’t know if you’d be okay with that, today just happened to be a day where it was hard for me to say no to them.” You laugh heartily at that—the image of Vernon being persuaded by twelve guys looking at him with puppy eyes. “I really am glad you liked them though. If it’s okay I’d like to have them over more,” he puts out tentatively.

Of course, you perk up at that—maybe a little too noticeably. “I’d love that!” you say excitedly, before shrinking back down at how eager you sound. “I mean like, of course I won’t barge on your time with them but they’re really fun to be around and I’d like to see them more often,” you explain, placing your hands on the counter now that you’re done cleaning all the dishes. Vernon seems to catch onto something and you want to die from embarrassment with the way he’s raising a brow at you.

But if he does notice anything, he doesn’t say it, instead choosing to shrug again and trudge away from the kitchen. “That’s great. Can I have them over next Saturday?”

You blink once then blink twice. “Of course,” you reply without a second of hesitation.

Saturday can't come soon enough. With your own work to do, you find your mind drifting constantly to the face of a pretty man who you can't seem to stop thinking about. You need to scold yourself every single time you realize you're daydreaming—god no, more like fantasizing—about a man who you've not only seen only once, but is one of your roommate's best friends.

Daunting as it is, you're finding this whole situation quite...fun. You can't remember the last time you've felt something so pure and rejuvenating as this crush—gosh, you feel childish for calling it that but what else can it be? Your heart palpates when you think about him, your eyes ache to see his beautiful face again, and holy hell you don't even want to get started on the raw goosebumps you get when reimagining the moment where his skin brushed up against yours.

It's Friday night now, and your stomach swims with anticipation of what tomorrow will hold. You're sitting on the couch in your living room when Vernon comes home from the gym, dropping a bag of food on the kitchen counter. "Hey, I was at the gym with Mingyu and he got me some leftovers that his mom made," he tells you as you look up at him.

"Oh sweet," you say, relieved you won't have to go through the effort of figuring out what to make for dinner. "Your friends are coming over tomorrow, right?" you ask, feigning nonchalance—fucking acting like tomorrow hasn't been the only thing on your mind for the past one week.

"Yeah, they're gonna come up pretty early actually. I was gonna ask you actually, if you wanted to come with us since we're planning on going to the beach later. It's gonna be pretty hot and we haven't gone down in a while," he explains, beginning to open the bag of food as you get up and join him, trying to ignore the endless thoughts that run through your mind.

"The beach? Of course I'd want to come—wait, would that be okay with them? I wouldn't wanna intrude in on your day."

Vernon shakes his head with a chuckle. "Oh my god can you stop?" he says jokingly, "they were the one's who suggested, actually. Not that I don't want you to come either—I do—I just want you to know that they enjoyed you being there last week just as much as you did."

"Really? Who suggested it?" You hope you aren't coming off as too curious—Vernon is perceptive, and you'd be a fool to think he couldn't figure out exactly why you're so insistent on figuring out who asked for you to be there.

He seems preoccupied though, taking the food out of the containers, much to your relief. "Uhh, it was Minghao I think. But like everyone agreed after that, Jeonghan even said he'd pay for your ice cream if you came."

You're convinced the universe is bullshitting you right now. Minghao? Your Minghao? Asked if you could join them? At the beach?

You might just pass out.

Naturally, Vernon looks at you funny. "Are you good? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

You shake your head nervously with a smile, turning back to grab a piece of fried chicken he pulled out. "No no, I was just thinking about if I even have any swim suits—I think I threw them out last summer because of Jungho," you murmur, and while it's not the full truth about what you were just thinking about, it is something that's on your mind. Vernon looks at you with a frown.

"You threw them out because of Jungho?" he asks sadly. "Fucking hell, I forgot how crazy he was," he murmurs, looking down to take his own bite of the food. You shrug solemnly, finding yourself in a mood a bit more down than you'd like.

"Weird times," you reply simply. "Think I could just go to the beach in like some shorts and a shirt? It's just water after all."

"Yeah that should be fine. We'd be leaving before noon so I don't think you'd have the time to buy new ones anyways," Vernon agrees, pushing himself off the counter.

You nod with a smile, ignoring the small pang of sadness you felt just moments ago. "Sounds good."

You're a heavy sleeper—you always have been—and given that it's a Saturday, it's no question that you're bound to sleep until Vernon is banging your door to make sure you aren't dead. Seriously. Saturday morning, despite your excitement, kicks off with a groggy start. You're rolling around in bed, ming hazy as you aimlessly try and figure out what time it is and what exactly woke you up since you know you don't set alarms for weekends. It takes a few seconds for the knocking on your door to register in your brain.

You blink once and rub your eyes, squinting so that they can adjust to the light as you peer at the clock, realizing that—shit, oh shit, it's almost 11. Didn't Vernon say that his friends were going to be here in the morning?! And that they were gonna leave before noon?! Shit!

You're scrambling out of bed, digging through your drawer as you call out a meek, "I'n up!" to whoever's knocking on your door, throwing on the only swim suit that you—thankfully—found tucked away in your closet the night before, covering it up with some shorts and a loose top that you picked earlier as well. You're quickly faced with realization that you still look like you just rolled out of bed which, to be fair, you had. That doesn't stop you from frantically brushing through your hair, trying to put it into a simple braid before finally feeling ready to open the door.

You're expecting to see Vernon, in all honesty, since that's how it went the last time they were all over. The man standing in front of your door is, in fact, definitely not Vernon. No, the man in front of your door is Xu fucking Minghao, and you think you're absolutely fucked by the way your knees go week.

"Hi, sorry, I hope I didn't rush you," he greets politely, stepping back, allowing you to take a good look at him. He's wearing a white sleeveless shirt that hugs hugs his body tightly, followed by a blue hawaiian shirt that sits loosely on his upper half. His lower half is adorned by simple swim trunks, and you do your very, very best to not stare at his calf muscles.

"I, uh..." your voice trails off, in a haze from how attractive he is as well from your fading drowsiness. You rub your eyes once under your glasses before responding. "It's okay, I don't know why I didn't get up earlier," you huff to yourself, looking down, "I thought I would."

"Don't worry about it," Minghao murmurs, and he brings a hand up to your head on top of your hair to ruffle it a bit. You might just scream. "It's good that you slept," he continues, walking back to the living room as you follow him. "We thought you'd wake up from how loud we were," he says with a chuckle as you enter the room with everyone else in it as they turn to you.

"Yeah," Seokmin agrees through a mouth full of muffin, Joshua lightly hitting his shoulder and chiding him for talking with his mouth full.

"She's awake!" Jeonghan cheers playfully.

"i know Vernon said you'd sleep through anything," Chan begins to admit, "but literally do not understand how you didn't wake up until now. I swear, there was a moment where Soonyoung was just screaming at the top of his lungs and we were all wondering if that was gonna get you to come out but Vernon didn't even bother to check."

Your face burns at the comment, but there's a warm sort of feeling that bubbles up in you when they all laugh—it's not a mean laugh, no, it's friendly and it's kind, and it's making you feel welcome.

"You guys just don't listen to me," Vernon huffs, tossing you an orange from the kitchen. "We're going to head out in like five minutes," he tells you. "We need to figure out the car situation because I think Wont's car and Joshua's can only five each and mine can hold four."

The next few minutes are spent trying to figure out who's going to go in which car, everyone deciding that Seungcheol, Seokmin, Chan, and Jun would be going in Wonwoo's, Jeonghan, Jihoon, Soonyoung, and Minghao would be going in Joshua's, and Mingyu, Seungkwan, and you would be going in Vernon's. You won't and say that you aren't a teensy bit disappointed that you don't get to sit with Minghao, but the beach is only a twenty minute's drive away anyways, and you feel this is also a chance to get to know Vernon's other friends better too.

The car ride is fun, and you enjoy Seungkwan's cheeky remarks to everything, laughing along to pretty much everything he says, as well as Mingyu's oddly calm hyperness...? You aren't sure how to explain it but there's a constantly endearing and jumpy aura radiating from the tall boy, yet he seems quite tame for the most part. Nevertheless, you're entertained and excited to spend more time with them as Vernon parks the car on the beach, pulling out his phone so he can figure out where the other's are.

"Ah" you murmur, as the fourteen of you are grouped up finally, making your way into the hot sand and towards the water. "This is like the perfect weather for the beach," you say, wiggling out of your slippers so you can walk on the sand with your bare feet. Seungkwan is standing next to you as you both trail behind the rest of the crowd a little, the both of you immersed in the warm feeling of sand between your toes.

"I love the beach," he says, throwing his head back to look up at the bright side. "I'm from a beach town, so when I found out that the beach—and all my friends—were here, I just had to move here too, you know?"

"The beach is nice, but I won't lie, it always makes me so exhausted after I spend a day out here," you admit, dragging your feet across the sand, basking in the hot feeling it brings. "Who knows, I'll probably go home and sleep so hard tonight that even Vernon might think I'm dead," you joke, causing Seungkwan to chuckle.

You two continue to talk about the beach and Seungkwan's home town as your group nears the water, everyone beginning to set up their towels and the picnic blankets you bought. Everyone helps out, and before you know it, Mingyu, Jeonghan, Seungcheol, Seokmin, and Seungkwan are ripping off their shirts and running towards the water. You watch them with amusement, standing up to shimmy out of your shorts and shirt.

Vernon looks at you, speaking, "You were able to get a swim suit?" he asks, confused considering your conversation with him last night. You smile somewhat sadly, and Minghao, sitting next to Vernon, can't help but notice.

"Uh, not really," you mumble, looking down at your black bikini. "I think Jungho just never knew about this one so I didn't get rid of it, and it was just shoved in the back of my closet or something. Anyways, I'm burning and I really want to get into the water," you conclude, turning around without giving Vernon a chance to respond.

As you run off into the water, Minghao turns and looks at Vernon him. "Who's Jungho?" he asks, shameless about his curiosity.

Vernon frowns as soon as he hears the name, and Minghao wonders just what kind of person this Jungho guy might be. "Just some ex. A really shitty one," Vernon murmurs, looking out at the sun. Minghao feels something uneasy churn inside of him. He gives Vernon that look, which tells him he wants to know more. "Like he just sucked. Didn't treat her right and shit. I didn't like him at all. None of her friends did. He tried to get her to throw out all of her swim suits and stuff because he didn't trust her at the beach or some bullshit like that."

"Goddamn," Minghao hisses, leaning back on his hands as he watches you play in the water. You looked like you were having so much fun—you were so at ease. He wants to chide himself for looking at the way your skin glistens in the sun, your bikini hugging your body in all the right places and in all the right ways. He knows he shouldn't be thinking about you like this, especially when he's only just met you a week ago, but that isn't to say he hasn't missed your quick glances. The way your eyes dart towards him, his body, his eyes, his lips, and quickly jump away when you realize he's caught you.

You feel the same way, he's sure of it. Minghao knows you feel the same tingles, the same sparks, the same rush of pure happiness when you see each other.

His thoughts are interrupted by Joshua speaking. "He made her throw out her swim suits?" he exclaims incredulously. "Insecure much," he mutters under his breath, and Minghao laughs along with that. "Good thing he's just her ex now—that sounds horrendous."

"Agreed," Minghao replies while Vernon nods, standing up to pull off his hawaiian shirt and top. "I'm gonna go into the water," he tells the rest of his friends before jogging lightly, following in your faint footsteps.

You're feet hit the water, and you stop in your tracks as you take a few moments to get used to the temperature change. You're looking up to see Seungkwan and Jeonghan waving you over to around twenty feet further into the water, but you call out to them to tell them to wait a second as you just melt in the feeling of the water against your toes. You stand there for a few moments before you hear a familiar voice coming up from behind you.

Oh. My. God.

You don't even want to turn around because you're scared of your reaction to seeing him shirtless—god, you aren't even sure if you'll be able to contain yourself! You think if you pass out, you'll just have to blame it on the heat, but still, how are you going to be—

"Hey," Minghao says cooly, stepping next to you in the water and holy crap, he's toned and he's practically glowing in the sunlight, the shadows hugging every peak and curve of his chest, his arms, his hands, his collarbone, his v-line—oh my god you need to stop. Practically ripping your eyes away from the wondrous view that is Minghao's body, you're forcing yourself to look up at his eyes (not that it's any less of a view—his eyes sparkle just as much as he does).

"H-hi." Did you just stutter? No fucking way you just stuttered. You think you might have to drown yourself right now. "I thought you were going to stay around with the others a bit longer," you say sheepishly. Minghao smirks at you, and he thinks now is his chance to try and fluster you up a bit more.

"Well I can't just let a pretty girl go into the ocean by herself, now can I?" he replies smoothly, taking a few steps in front of and waving you to follow him, and you would only if you hadn't just stopped breathing. How could he say that so casually!? How could he—wait. Wait! He just called you a pretty girl. He thinks you're pretty. Xu fucking Minghao finds you pretty, and he's saying it to your fucking face. You actually might die right now.

You can't even formulate a response, just tearing your gaze away from him and smiling shamelessly at the ground as you follow behind him slowly. Mission accomplished, Minghao thinks to himself, and something inside of him goes batshit crazy by seeing you so smiley and undone.

"W-whatever," you finally say as the water near to your hips as you two start nearing the others guys who are currently splashing each other with water. Minghao watches them, and get an idea, playfully splashing some water your way. You jump back quickly, eyes widening before you gasp. "You did not!" You quickly splash water back, but Minghao seems to see it coming and he moves out of the way. "Get back here!" you yell, running after him as he nears Mingyu, hiding behind the larger boy. With your eyebrows, you pay no mind to this, continuing to splash water everywhere, hoping that at least some of it will get on Minghao.

Mingyu puts his hands up, eyes scrunched up as he tries to block the water that's inevitably going his way. "Hey! Hey! Hey! Not me! Not me!" he cries out as the others laigh.

"Get Minghao!" you call out to the other boys who catch on quickly, joining you on your rampage against Minghao. Eventually there's just so much water splashing everywhere that within minutes you're all spent, gasping for air as you all try to rub the water away from your eyes. Once your vision is no longer blurry, you blink hard a few last times before turning your vision towards Minghao again and holy hell, you didn't think he could look any hotter than he did sitting in the sun but wow. His hair is wet and hanging low on his forehead but it's so messy and so hot and all you can think about is running your fingers through those locks yourself and making a mess in your own little way and—okay stop, you can't be thinking about this, especially not in public.

It takes a moment for you to fully calm yourself down before you're laughing with the other guys as they start to play a new game. You try to ignore the butterflies you get whenever you near Minghao, but it's a painfully hard task. You grow to accept the feeling as the minutes go on, simply existing alongside the bubbly feeling instead of pushing it down.

The next hour is spent in and out of the water, everyone else eventually joining those of you in the water, and you find that time is passing faster than you can even think. Time with them is fun, it's carefree, it's liberating, it's refreshing. Once you're all too tired and too spent, you're trudging back to the little spot you all have set up as everyone begins to pull out the food they packed. As you snack on your lunch, the fourteen of you sit in a circle and talk about the plans for the rest of the day.

"Let's play beach volleyball," Wonwoo suggests after everyone's finished eating, and it's no doubt that everyone else pretty much agrees immediately.

"Yeah, I saw a court in that direction, and I'm sure we'd be able to find a ball," Jihoon adds on as everyone stands up.

"I think i'll stay behind," you tell them all, leaning back on your hand as you fan your face with the other. "I'm kind of tired and I think I just need to sit down for a bit," you explain.

"That's okay, but you sure you won't be lonely," Vernon clarifies as he stands up.

You shake your head, but right before you're going to respond, Minghao speaks up. "Don't worry about her, I'll stay behind too." God, someone save you—your poor heart can't take much more of this.

"Oh okay, great!" Joshua says happily, the others standing up as well to go follow Jihoon to the volleyball court. "Catch you later!" You and Minghao wave at the rest as the drift off into the distance before being left in the silence that sits between you.

Minghao speaks first. "It's nice that you came, it's refreshing to have someone new, especially if they're like you."

You raise a brow at him, turning your body so that you're completely facing him, legs crossed as you lean forward. "Like me? What does that mean?"

Minghao gives you a sly smile, like he was expecting this. "Fun. Easy-going." He pauses. "Pretty."

"Is this your way of flirting or do you just enjoy being very direct about what you're thinking."

He laughs at that, throwing his head back. "Nice one. Those two are actually the same thing for me, so take that as you see it," he says with a shrug. You're face is on fire, and you're sure he can tell by now. Minghao catches on and he leans forward. "Is it working?"

"Maybe it is," you murmur nonchalantly.

"I think it definitely is," he shoots back with yet another smirk. God, you can't do this anymore. He's just so close to you and you don't know if it's because it's hot or if you're flustered or whatever but you're burning and not thinking straight and before you know it you're leaning in so close that you can feel Minghao's soft breath on your lips, stopping right before you two can connect.

It's the silent words now: kiss me, kiss me Minghao, and you almost think that this is true love when he leans in immediately after, heeding your silent requests.

Minghao's lips are plump and soft and taste slightly salty from the remains of the ocean water, in contrast to the sweet way he's got one hand cupping your chin. His thumb strokes at your skin and the touch is so light that you think you might go insane, gripping onto one of his biceps as you try to ground yourself in reality—in this moment, that you're scared might almost just be a figment of your imagination.

News-flash, it's not. In fact, this moment is very much real, very much happening, and very much one of the closest things to heaven you've experienced.

When you pull away, his hand is still on your chin and yours still rests on his arm. "I won't lie," you whisper, "I've been thinking about doing that all week."

"Me too," Minghao admits almost immediately, the revelation sending both shock and relief coursing through your veins. You let go of his arm, finally, and he drops his hold too, but you scoot closer to him so you're not sitting side by side as you face the ocean. "We shouldn't do anything else right now," he says quietly, and you know he doesn't have to say to know what you're both thinking. "I don't think you'd want the others seeing anything."

"You're right," you say with a nod, but you still interlace his fingers that are next to you with yours on the ground. Minghao squeezes your fingers back slightly in confirmation that this is very much okay. "Do you want to get something to eat? I saw some people selling fruit on our walk through the sand," he suggests after a few moments. You nod along, shuffling through the pile of clothes that are everywhere so you can find your shorts—it's sp warm out right now that your skin and swim suit have already dried off.

While you're fishing out your shorts and slipping them on, Minghao finds his hawaiian t-shirt and slips it on, although his bare chest is still very much on display, despite your poor heart's cries for him to cover it up—no! Don't let anyone else see! You blush bashfully at your newfound jealousy of others seeing Minghao the same way you do, but those thoughts are soon pushed away as he reaches out a hand to you to help you stand up. You grab his hand with a smile, following after him as you both head toward the fruit stands at the front.

"What do you want to get?" he asks you when he sees you squinting to try and see what they're selling.

"Pineapple!" you cheer when you realize one of the stands has your favorite fruit, and Minghao can feel his heart swell at the sound. "Can we please get pineapple? It's my favorite fruit and it's the best for hot days."

Minghao smiles and nods, and your heart nearly pops out of your chest. "Pineapple and mango?" he suggests as you stand in front of one of the stalls, pulling out his wallet. You nod before thinking for a moment, pulling out your own wallet before he has a hand a hand on your waist, pushing it away. "I'm paying," and it's not a question when he says it. You slowly push your wallet back into your pocket, mind racing with the thoughts of how a man can be as perfect as Minghao.

"Okay well," you reply, pulling your wallet back out in defiance, "I want to buy some fruits for the others too," you explain. "And I don't think it's fair for you to pay for all of that."

Minghao huffs, letting go of your wrist before turning back to guy at the stall. You two end up splitting the cost of five cups of fruits before returning to the set up on the sand that you have with your arms much fuller than before. Back once you're both sitting, you chat about whatever and you definitely forget how to breathe the multiple times that Minghao picks up a toothpick and feeds you the fruits himself. There's something so domestic and so comforting about the way you both smoothly speak, move, flow—being with Minghao is languid and despite your racing heart at the thought of being with him, you feel...relaxed.

This feels right.

After around an half an hour of talking, you find yourself laying on your back as you have Vernon's hat on top of your head as you listen to the ocean. "Should we go to find them? They'll probably be hungry by now and beach volleyball is starting to sound fun," you say, sitting up and readjusting Vernon's cap on your head.

"Bored of me already?" Minghao teases, sitting up as well, readjusting his shirt.

You roll your eyes. "You know that isn't it. The fruit isn't gonna taste as good later, even if we keep it in the cooler. It tastes better fresh," you reason.

"Fine fine," he murmurs in defeat and you grin, getting up to pick up two of the cups of fruit while Minghao grabs the other two.

"You know where they went?" you ask him, looking to your left and right, trying to recall which direction the boys left in.

"This way I think," Minghao says, pointing to your left and you squint, nodding excitedly when you see some volleyball courts in the far distance.

"Wow, that's pretty far," you think out loud as you both start walking in that direction.

"Can't handle it?" he coos, looking down at you as he takes his effortlessly long strides.

You scoff, turning your head away as you feign nonchalance. "Whatever."

"I'm joking," Minghao says quickly, reaching one hand over to pick up the cups of fruit your holding so that he's holding all four now. You're about to protest but he simply turns his arms away from you so they're out of your reach.

"Thank you," you say sheepishly, holding your hands behind your back as you two begin to speed up your pace when you both realize that the fruit will grow warm soon. It takes around seven to eight minutes for you guys to reach the volleyball courts, calling out to Vernon when you reach hearing range. "We brought fruit!" you yell, pointing at the cups that Minghao graciously carried for you.

The boys run over, almost all of them in a panting, sweating mess.

"It's like you read our minds," Seungcheol tells you and Minghao, picking a strawberry and stuffing it into his mouth.

Seokmin nods along, picking up a piece of mango. "We were just talking about how we're already hungry again."

"Yeah," Chan agrees, "and I think Mingyu was gonna pass out in the next five minutes if you didn't bring him something to eat." You all look at Mingyu who's sitting across from you, legs out and upper body leaning on his arms behind him as his face is scrunched up—he nearly looks like he's dying.

"Fuck you all!" he groans, falling back onto the sand. "I swear, Jun and Cheol were targeting me! They kept hitting the ball in my direction!"

Jun laughs at that, throwing a hand up to Seungcheol for a high-five. "Damn, I didn't think you'd catch on."

"How could I not!?" Mingyu whines, sitting up again to pick up another fruit. "I was on the verge of the death because of you guys."

Jeonghan ticks his tongue as everyone laughs, "Ah, don't be so dramatic Gyu, we were just having fun. Plus, who doesn't want to win."

Mingyu grumbles as he kicks some sand Jeonghan's way as everyone retreats back into the normal conversation of the plans next. After a few moments of discussion, you all decide to go back to your set up and stay there until sunset before heading home.

Once you all make your way back, the hours are spent chatting, building a moat (Mingyu and Chan seemed especially interested in this for some reason), and playing in and out of the water. As the sky begins to merge from blue to yellow to a deep orange, you begin cleaning up. At the moment, you aren't sure who brings it up, but the word "sleepover" gets thrown around and everyone is practically on their knees, asking to sleep over at Vernon and your place.

"Why our place?" Vernon complains. "Why not Minghao and Jun's? Or Joshua and Jeonghan's?" he begins throwing out the other's names.

"Because we like yours the most," Joshua says simply, everyone nodding their heads vigorously in agreement. Vernon huffs and looks at you for help, but you only shrug—you aren't sure how to respond to this and you aren't going to pretend like you aren't a teensy bit excited about the chance of Minghao spending the night (even though there'll be 12 other guys in your home).

"You guys owe us," Vernon finally says with a deep sigh, "big time."

The car ride back begins by Vernon, Joshua, and Wonwoo yelling at all of the passengers to not get sand into the car, and while you all desperately try to heed by their wishes, it's nearly impossible. You should've expected that nothing with this group is ever especially peaceful, but you're pleasantly surprised by how every event with them somehow has you bursting into laughter until your stomach hurts.

When you all return to your apartment, it takes a messy, chaotic hour or two for everyone to sort out when they would be taking showers, realizing that you should have planned this better once you knew that fourteen people would be scrambling to try and use your and Vernon's single shower. Once you're all washed up, you're left sitting in the living room, trying to figure out how you're going to pass the next few hours. Of course, one brings up Mario Kart, and suddenly they all perch against the couch trying to see who can beat Wonwoo.

It's now when you start to feel the exhaustion of the day catch up to you, recalling how you told Seungkwan that beach days make you tired. You excuse yourself to your room, locking the door behind you before slipping under the covers and nuzzling against the pillow.

In the silence—well not really silence, since apartment walls are thin and boys are loud, but still—of your own room, you find yourself catching a moment for you to properly think. And then it all comes crashing onto you.

Minghao. His lips, his eyes, his arms, his hands, his fingers, his lips (yes, his lips again), his touch, his gaze—and holy hell do you need more. You almost whine out loud into the sheets at the thought of having to wait for him any longer, your brain fuzzy from both your exhaustion and the tingling feeling that courses through your nerves.

Your mind races through the endless possibilities of what has happened and what can happen and before you know it you're falling asleep.

It's two hours later at around 8pm when you hear your phone buzzing by your chest, hardly lifting your head to see who it is. When you recognize the caller as Vernon, you hit the answer button, putting minimal effort into lifting the phone up to your ear as you grumble.

"God, do you ever stop sleeping?" he huffs on the other end, and you can faintly hear someone in the background laugh. You rub your eyes as you push yourself out of bed, rummaging through your drawer to pick out a cardigan to throw on.

"Sorry," you grumble with a yawn. "Beach days make me tired."

"I can see that. Anyways, we're in the living room ordering takeout, so hurry up if you want to have your choice," he threatens playfully.

"Alright alright," you mumble, trying to make your bed a little neater before leaving your room and heading towards the living room. They're all there, as expected, some movie playing on the TV as Jihoon is playing something on the guitar (where the hell did he get a guitar from?!) and Wonwoo and Mingyu are playing yet another game of Mario Kart on the Switch tablet.

"And she's here!" Chan exclaims, causing some eyes to turn to you. Minghao, sitting on one of the chairs at the kitchen island turns to you quickly, and the eye contact has you turning into mush immediately.

"When you went to your room," Vernon begins to say, distracting you from your thoughts and placing a hand on your shoulder, "I thought you were just going to chill for a bit. I didn't expect you to be napping."

Seungkwan comes in and swats Vernon's hand away from you. "You're so judgemental Sollie! Let her be!"

"Thank you Seungkwan!" you agree immediately, turning to raise an accusing eyebrow at Vernon. He rolls his eyes and steps away, holding up his phone which has the food order on the front screen.

"Hey, I'm ordering your food!"

You step back, putting your hand sup in surrender. "Okay fine! Fine! What are we getting tonight?"

"Mexican!" Jeonghan calls out. "It's my treat!" Everyone cheers as you tell Vernon your order, sitting down on the ground in the living room as everyone bunches up in the middle to begin discussing the next big problem you all have—sleeping.

It seems like no one quite thought this out earlier but your apartment is small and fitting fourteen people into this space seems near impossible, especially when you know that they'll all insist on you sleeping alone in your own room. It's a hassle to pull out all the extra pillows and bed sheets that you have, everyone trying to clear space to make as many makeshift beds on the ground as they can.

Somehow, you're all able to fit eight "beds" in the living room, Chan and Seungkwan being the lucky ones to squeeze into the extra space that Vernon has left on his bed and Jun and Jihoon calling the spots on the sofa and arm chair. From there on out, time seems to pass easily with the thirteen of them, and you're starting to understand how Vernon's been able to be their friend for so long. The hours pass quickly and by ten p.m., you're spent and tired from the day—too tired to go on.

Before you know it, you're helping them all make the final touches to the makeshift beds, bringing out as many extra comforters as you can in hopes to make sleeping on the ground a bit more comfortable. Bidding goodnight, you wave to them all and retreat to your room, but not before staring at Minghao for maybe a little too long. He stares back, of course, and anyone else would miss it, but you don't—the way he nods slightly, before turning away to say something to Jun.

III. OUR DAWN IS HOTTER THAN DAY

It's eleven when you hear the knock on your door, and it's embarrassing how quickly you scramble out of bed to open it. On the other side, as expected, is Minghao. You're pulling him in without a second of hesitation, grabbing his neck and slamming his lips onto yours hard. His hands are making their way onto his hips immediately, moving up and down along your waist and torso to feel every inch of you that he can. You've both been waiting for this for ages, and it's about time you lose control.

"Hao," you whine softly as he presses you into your wall, his tongue running against the corner of your mouth. His only response is kissing you deeper, teeth clashing as you seek to explore every last bit of each other. Minghao swears he feels his dick twitch at the way you call him by his nickname, his fingers tightening their hold on you.

"You'll drive me crazy," he murmurs, kissing down your neck as you run your hands up and down his arms to feel the curve of his arms.

"That's the—ah—plan," you grunt as you sucks at one spot on your skin. Minghao continues peppering your skin with kisses before you feel like enough his enough, intertwining your fingers in his hair and pulling his head up so he can look at you. "Can I suck you off?"

Minghao is, undeniably, taken aback by your forwardness, and while his head his telling him to take his time with you right now, his other head is telling him to give in. In any other situation with any other girl, he would be denying you, taking his time to at least finger you first but he's been too pent up and too horny since the first time you kissed him to say no.

You're surprised when he quickly nods—you aren't the type to dive right into this kind of stuff but Minghao has been doing something that's reconnecting the wires in your brain, causing the overwhelming urge to sink to your knees for Minghao to crash into you.

The second you're on your knees, you have your hands on the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down at once with his boxers to reveal his length, long and pretty and hard with a bead of pre-cum dribbling off the end. You reach up, holding the base with a hand as you look up at Minghao to meet his eyes.

"Fucking hell," he groans, throwing his head back before you reply with a hiss.

"Quiet! They can't hear," you remind him, before adjusting yourself on your knees so you're in a better position to prod his tip at the front of your mouth. You drink in the way Minghao's breath hitches as your lips wrap around him, tongue swiping at the tip softly before pulling back.

"Don't—" he takes a deep breath, "don't be a fucking tease."

"'m sorry," you mumble, pulling your head back. "Can't help it." You kind of mean it and you kind of don't. Honestly, you aren't sure what to think—all you want to do is make Minghao feel good and do it now. Minghao notices the desperate glint in your eyes, and he takes this chance to wind his fingers into your hair, pulling it back into a makeshift pony tail so he can move your face in the face that he wants. The thought has you both going down into a spiral.

Minghao looks down at you so intensely that you think you just might cum from the look alone, but then he's speaking. "You okay with this?" he asks quietly, running a thumb along your lower lip with the hand that's not holding your hair back.

"Yes," you reply almost instantly, and your eagerness has his eyes darkening—you can see it.

"Fuck," he groans, leaning back again while he takes your hand that isn't wrapped around his length up to his thigh. "Tap twice if you want me to stop, 'kay?" You nod quickly, hoping Minghao will get the idea that you're beginning to grow impatient.

Message received, it seems because before you know it, Minghao is guiding your mouth back to the tip of his length, so you can take him in. Once you have your lips wrapped around him, he pushes you forward more, causing your eyes to widen as you realize he's nearly hitting the back of your throat. You take this as your chance to do exactly what you've been aching for, and you begin to bob your head back and forth.

The moan Minghao lets out is near perfection, and you're immediately encouraged to push more, to push deeper, to do whatever it takes to make him make that sound again. You're about to do it again before you feel your hair being tugged so that you're fully pulled off his cock. "Fuck," he chokes out, looking down at the sight of you with red, puffy lips and blown-out eyes. "Do that again," he demands, and you don't waste a second before you wrap your mouth around him and push down as far as you can. His hand is pushing at the back of your head, his soft words from above encouraging you to go harder to go deeper because you're his angel and he knows you can do it.

God, the words that are spilling out of his mouth are downright filthy but they're messing with your head and before you know it your moving your head back and forth in sync with Minghao's hips that are snapping forward slightly, causing him to batter the back of your throat. It's not the most comfortable feeling but the discomfort definitely not what you're thinking about when you hear Minghao's pants—his soft groans that escape his lips now that you've got him so desperate.

There's drool running down your chin and it's so messy but it's so hot and it has your pussy aching but you can't even think of relieving yourself—not when you can feel the vein on the understand of his dick against your tongue, not when his hand is laced in your hair with such a tight hold you think you might just pass out, not when you know he's so close to his release within minutes all because of you. "Fuck," he grunts again, snapping his hips once more, particularly harder and sloppier this time. "I'm gonna—fuck, I'll come soon."

Your jaw is aching by now but it doesn't compare to the throbbing you feel in your panties—god, you're going to go crazy. You use your hand to rub whatever of his length you can't fit in your mouth, using these last few moments to let Minghao jut his hip and shove your mouth further onto him and holy hell do you love it. You can feel it coming with the way he twitches inside your mouth and you can tell he's about to come when he pulls you off of him, before you're opening your mouth wide again, eyes silently begging him: inside my mouth.

It's like earliedirtr, when you kissed, except now it's so much more frantic, so much more ecstatic—Minghao hears your silent requests and only takes a second to push himself back into your mouth. You only need to suck once or twice before you feel it in your mouth—his cum, hot and shooting down your throat. He pulls out after that, you taking a second to swallow and then lick the glossy tip, your body filling with pride at the way you see his leg twitch.

"God—fuck," Minghao finally manages to say between sputtered breaths, "You're so hot." He pulls you up by the arm as he slips his boxers and shorts back on, placing a hand on your hip as he brings you up for a fierce kiss. Your lips are all swollen and Minghao is extra gentle with the way he runs his tongue along them, kissing you so softly you almost forget that he just face-fucked you less than a minute ago. He's pressed up against the wall right now, but takes this moment to flip you both so it's you who's leaning back.

Minghao pulls away from your lips, chuckling at the way yours chases his in the few seconds after, before connecting his lips to your neck like earlier. "Let me give you something in return, yeah?"

"Yeah," you agree, nodding dumbly the second you feel his hand slip down your shorts, ghosting over your panties.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groans as he pressed down through your panties.

"Hao," you moan, as he rubs little circles on your clit over the fabric, "please, please, hurry." Minghao chuckles and usually you'd be embarrassed but then again, there's nothing usual about getting fingered by your roommates best friend while all of his friends are asleep in the next room over. Minghao still is going slow with you, taking an extra moment to slowly push your panties aside. You're growing so impatient, the throbbing between your legs getting so impatient, that you think you might start sobbing. "I've been so good, Hao, please? I wanna cum," you beg, meeting Minghao's eyes as you look up at him.

God, you're doing something to him, he thinks—you might just be the death of him. You just look so cute and so desperate and the way your eyes are already glossy has his dick hard again. The fact that he didn't even have to ask you to beg for him is more than enough for a million thoughts to be racing through his mind, but in all honesty, the only thing he wants to focus on right now is making you come.

"Angel, fuck," he murmurs, into your skin, placing a kiss on your collarbone as he uses one hand to lift your shirt up to your neck so he can hold one of your tits, the other hand running through your folds so he can coat his fingers in your slit. "You wanna come?" he coos, prodding one finger at your entrance, and he thinks he might tease you a little longer but then he sees how quickly you respond and it has his resolve crumbling. He sinks is finger in and it's so long and so thick and reaches places in one go that you can't even even imagine of reaching with your own fingers.

You let out a deep sigh, instinctively grinding down on his hand so that your clit is also brushing against his palm adding to the stimulation. Minghao is gentle in the first few moments, moving his finger in and out at a steady pace before you murmur his name once more, causing him to push a second finger inside. "Oh my god, Minghao," you moan, and his eyes shoot up at yours, using the hand that was at your tits to cover your mouth.

"Quiet," he demands, as he continues to fuck you with your fingers. The sound of your wetness and his fingers against your gummy walls is echoing though the room and all you can think about is how dirty and how erotic this feels, and you moan again quietly again at the thought. Minghao's fingers still inside of you at the sound, and you feel your eyes widen and tear up once more. "Be quiet, or I'll stop," he murmurs, resuming his ministrations once he sees you nod.

"Minghao," you say quietly, throwing your head back when you feel him start to play with one of your nipples. "Feels so—so good," you hiccup, doing your best to keep quiet. He's fucking into you ruthlessly now, the pads of his fingers hitting spots you didn't even know existed, and you know your end is close by the way your vision nearly goes white. You grind against his hand harder, and Minghao picks up on the subtle movement.

"Gonna cum?" he breaths out and you don't even have it in you to say anything, your only response being your quickened movements. "C'mon angel, cum for me," he whispers into your ear and maybe it's his voice or maybe it's the way his fingers have you seeing stars or maybe it's the stimulation of your clit against his palm or maybe it's everything combined but you're cumming hard and fast within seconds around his fingers, and holy shit you think that might just be the best orgasm of your life.

You're left panting as Minghao's fingers slow down inside of you, twitching every few seconds from the overstimulation, before he's pulling them out of you and your panties completely. You want to hide your face, looking away when you realize how wet they are. "Why're you looking away?" Minghao asks, grabbing your chin so you can look at him. "It's hot," he tells you with a shrug, bringing his fingers up to your mouth, raising a brow. You're slightly embarrassed, yes, but you'd be a fool to try and deny him, opening up your mouth and suck your own wetness off him when he presses his fingers into your mouth.

After you swirl your tongue around him a few times, he pulls his hands back, replacing his fingers on your mouth with his lips, kissing you sweetly. You bring your hands up to his hair, moving your lips in unison as he places one hand on your waist, pulling your shirt back down to cover you.

"That was fun," you finally say when you're both pulling away.

"You're gonna drive me up a wall," Minghao mutters under his breath, taking a small step back. "But it was." He's silent for a moment before speaking again. "I'm gonna head back—wouldn't want anyone to wake up and find out I'm not where I supposed to be."

"You think someone would wake up?"

Minghao chuckles, and you feel those butterflies again. "You were pretty loud," he says, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of your neck.

"Whose fault is that again?" you ask.

"Dunno," Minghao says casually. "He must be super hot though."

You click your tongue as Minghao walks backward toward your door. "Hmm, I'll have to agree with that."

He smiles and kisses you hard one last time before ruffling your hair. "Sleep well angel."

a/n. not even going to bother reading this through because i'll get embarrassed. dw guys i'm working on a better hao fic soon >_<

#xu minghao #xu minghao smut #xu minghao x reader #minghao x reader #minghao drabbles #minghao imagines #minghao smut #minghao fanfic #minghao #seventeen imagines #svt smut #seventeen smut #svt scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #svt fanfic #📝 writing

1K notes · View notes

callsign-dexter · 1 month

Text

Surprises and Smiles

Request: Could you do one for Bobby Nash from 9-1-1 with wife fem!reader? Maybe not feeling well lately and he's worried and Hen know why she's not feeling well (pregnant maybe?) And she surprise him after shift with the help of the other?

Pairings: Bobby Nash x Wife!Reader

Warnings: fluff

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you @pear-1206 for requesting this!

Lately you haven't been feeling the greatest. Every morning you started out with running to the bathroom and throwing up and your husband would come in and hold your hair back and comfort you and whisper encouraging things in your ear and asking if you're sure you don't want him to go to work. You also noticed that you were starting to get bloated and you were late by several weeks now that you thought about it. It was still starting to worry you and your husband, Bobby Nash.

You were told before that you couldn’t have kids when you both were trying and it killed you on the inside but that didn’t stop you and him from having sex and since you couldn’t have kids you both don’t worry about taking any precautions. For the past week you had been off your game tired, hungry, moody, and nauseous. You were scared and you didn’t know what to do so you turned to your best friend and your husband’s coworker, Henrietta ‘Hen’ Wilson. You called her up.

“Hey, Girl. What's up?” She asked

“Hey, can you come over?” You asked her.

“Yea, I can be there in 10 minutes. Everything ok?” She asked

“Ummm not really.” You said being vague and that was throwing her off.

“Y/N are you ok?” She asked

“No, I’ve been throwing up every morning, I’m tired all the time, my back hurts, I’m hungry all the time, and I’ve been snapping at everyone and it kills me because I’m not like that. Hen I’m not.” You said crying “And here comes the emotions.” You said

“Ok ok. Calm down. I will be there in 5 minutes. I just need to stop at the store and grab something, ok?” She asked

“Ok.” You said sniffling.

“Stay calm and I will be there soon. Drink some water and relax.” She said “I’m going to hang up now, ok?” She asked

“Ok.” You said and then you both were hanging up and now you were waiting for her on the couch.

5 minutes passed and there was a knock on the door and you were getting up and opening it. When you saw her, you started to cry. “Hey.” She said and brought you into her arms.

“Hi.” You choked out.

“Let’s go and sit on the couch and I’ll start checking you over, ok?” She asked and you nodded.

“Ok.” You said sniffling. You both went to the couch and you sat down and she sat to the side of you.

“Where is Bobby anyways?” She asked

“He went out with Buck. I told him that I wasn’t feeling well and told him to go.” You said as she checked everything that she could on you and nothing abnormal came up with the general checkup. She then brought up the question that you hadn’t thought of for a while not since that day you found out.

“I don’t see anything physically wrong with you check up wise. I have to ask, is there a possibility that you could be pregnant?” She asked and you were looking at her dumbfounded.

“No, there can’t be no way.” You said

“It wouldn’t hurt to check. When I stopped at the store I grabbed some pregnancy tests.” She said and you looked at her “Please just humor me.” She said and you sighed.

“Fine.” You said and then got up taking the tests. You got up and went to the bathroom.

“I’ll be right out here when you’re done. Just call for me.” She said and you nodded. You walked into the bathroom and shut the door and took the tests and now you had to wait 5 minutes. You opened the door “Hen, I’m done.” You said and she walked into the bathroom and she sat down on the tub that you had sat down on. “What if I am pregnant?” You asked

“That would be great. How would you feel?” She asked

“Ecstatic.” You said as the timer went off and you got up and grabbed the capped pregnancy tests. You took a breath and looked down at them and your heart stopped. You were looking at two positive pregnancy tests. Of course, you were delighted but you were in shock, you were told it was not possible for you to have kids.

“Y/N are you ok?” Hen asked as she looked at with worry on her face.

“I think so.” You said

“How are you feeling right now?” She asked

“I really don’t know. I’m excited but I’m shocked. I was told when we were trying to have kids that I couldn’t. I was so devastated that I didn’t even get a second opinion.” You said looking at her.

“When are you going to tell Bobby?” She asked

“I want to be sure. I want to get a doctor’s appointment but I don’t want to go alone. I don’t want him to go with me just to have his heart broken again. I can’t do that to him, he was so heartbroken even more than I was when we were told that there was no way we could have kids.” You said and she nodded.

“Do you want me to come with you?” She asked and you looked at her with tears in your eyes.

“Please.” You said and she smiled.

“I will. Come here.” She said and opened her arms and you fell into them. “Everything is going to be ok. I promise. We’re all here for you.” She said and you nodded as you pulled out your phone and shakingly pulled up your gynecologist contact. You called them and made the appointment.

“They can get me in 10 AM tomorrow morning.” You said and she smiled and then the door was opening and your husband’s voice calling out to you. You were quick to hide the tests with Hen and then you both were coming out of the bathroom wiping your face of tears.

“Honey, I'm home!” He shouted

“I'll be there in a second.” You said back as you walked out of the bathroom and Hen followed. Bobby spotted you and smiled and then he saw Hen.

“How was your day?” He asked coming over and hugging you and the smell of his cologne made you close your eyes and melt into him.

“It was good. Wanted some girl time with my best friend so I called her over.” You said

“What did you both do?” He asked as he pulled away from the hug and you almost let out a whimper.

“Oh, nothing really. Lazed around the house and gossiped.” Hen said and you nodded.

“That sounds like a good girl’s day.” He said and you smiled. You felt better with having him around.

“I'm actually going to go out with her tomorrow before shift. I need to get some shopping done and want a girl’s opinion.” You said and he nodded. He wasn't one to get upset over you not wanting his opinion and you were glad about that. Lord knows you've asked for his opinion so many times.

“Well, I will get going. I'll see you in the morning Y/N.” She said and you smiled and hugged her smiling.

“Thank you.” You whispered in her ear and she hugged you tighter letting you know she heard you and saying you're welcome. She then was releasing you and then grabbing her stuff and headed out the door leaving you and Bobby alone.

“Are you ok?” He asked once she left and you looked at him and smiled.

“I'm so much better now that you're here.” You said and he smiled and kissed your forehead.

“Are you hungry?” He asked and you shook your head.

“Not right now.” You said and he smiled.

“What do you want to do for the rest of the day?” He asked

“I want to spend every waking moment with you. It doesn't even matter what it is. I just want it to be with you.” You said and he smiled.

“I would like nothing less. I love you.” He said

“I love you too.” You replied and so that's how the rest of the day was spent. You by your husband’s side or in his arms. That's where both of your happy places were. When you were with each other than nothing else mattered.

As you both laid down for the night you stayed awake for a little bit thinking of the possibilities going through everything. Your mind didn't stop until he rested his hand on your stomach and a smile came to your face and that is how you fell asleep.

*******************************

The next morning something good had you waking up and walking into the kitchen. When you got there, you saw your husband over the stove cooking something that smelled delicious and familiar and then it hit you, it was your favorite breakfast. “Whatever you’re cooking smells delicious.” You said and that had Bobby turning around and smiling.

“Hey, Baby. I figured I would cook you something before not seeing you for two days and it is something easy on your stomach. Also, you can freeze or store the rest.” He said and you started to cry. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked coming over to you and gently placing his hands on your face.

“Nothing. I promise. You’re just too good to me.” You said and he smiled.

“Anything for my girl.” He said and kissed your forehead and then the oven was beeping and he was pulling away and heading over to the oven and stove. As he got the food ready you watched him, if you were pregnant then your baby is going to have the luckiest father in the world. Then again, he was raising several other grown adults at work. You both got your plates filled and sat down to eat, breakfast was filled with small talk and you actually could stomach the food and you weren’t rushing to the bathroom to throw up, which was a miracle. After food was eaten you got in the shower and got ready for the day while Bobby cleaned up and put food away.

10 AM rolled around and Hen was knocking on the door and you were still getting ready so Bobby got the door. You could hear their voices from in the bedroom. “Good morning, Bobby.” Hen said.

“Good morning.” She replied

“Big plans for you both today?” He asked and you smiled and you knew she wouldn’t tell him not without running it by you, it was your news to tell.

“Oh yea. We're going to go shopping.” She said and he smiled and nodded. He knew you didn't like shopping so this was a big deal if it were up to you then you would do all of your shopping online.

“Those are some big plans. She should be out here in a minute.” He said and Hen smiled and nodded and you took that as a cue to head out there. When you came into his view he smiled “There she is.” He said, which made Hen turn and smile.

“Are you ready to go?” She asked and you nodded.

“As ready as I ever will be.” You said and that had everyone chuckling and smiling. So, you bid your husband a goodbye with a kiss and a I love you and then the both of you were out the door.

“How are you feeling?” Hen asked as she drove to the medical center.

“Nervous. What if the tests were wrong and I'm not pregnant?” You asked

“Then we will deal with it. If you want my opinion, I think you are because of all the symptoms you told me. I can feel it.” She said and you smiled

“Thank you.” You said

“For what?” She asked even though she knew the answer.

“For being here with me. For coming to me when I was freaking out.” You said and she turned to look at you when she had parked in front of the building.

“It's my pleasure really. I'm your best friend, that's what I'm supposed to do.” She said and you smiled. She was right. She had been your best friend ever since she started to work at the 118 and you couldn't have asked for a better friend. You took a deep breath and let it out.

“I'm ready.” You said and she smiled and nodded then you both were getting out of the car and locking the door. When you got into the building you went to reception and got some paperwork to fill out while Hen went and grabbed a spot. When you got it, you went and sat down and now both of you sat in the waiting room.

“Do you want me to come back with you?” She asked and you debated it as you filled out the paperwork.

“Part of me yes and part of me no.” You said and she didn't take offense to that.

“I'll be right here when you do make the decision.” She said and you smiled and nodded as you finished the paperwork and took it up the front and then went and sat back down with Hen.

“Thank you.” You said and hugged her.

“You're welcome.” She said and then the nurse was calling your name. You breathed in and stood up.

“Do you mind staying here?” You asked

“Not at all. If you want me in there then tell someone and I’ll be in there.” She said and you nodded and then you were heading off with the nurse. When you arrived at a room, she led you in and turned to you.

“Please make yourself comfortable Dr. Muntz will be here in a few minutes.” The nurse said and you smiled and nodded.

“Thank you.” You said and she smiled and nodded. She then left you alone. You didn’t have to wait long until there was a knock on the door and it was opening to reveal the doctor.

“Good morning Mrs. Nash. How are you this morning?” She asked

“Better than I have been in the past mornings. I actually was able to eat and keep it down this morning.” You said and she smiled and nodded and wrote things down.

“From looking at the symptoms that you said I have a sneaking suspicion that you’re pregnant. I’m going to run some bloodwork and then an ultrasound. How long has this sickness been going on for?” She asked.

“About 9 weeks, so 2 months.” You said and she nodded and wrote it down.

“May I ask why you didn’t come in sooner?” She asked and you nodded.

“When my husband and I were trying to get pregnant for months I went and got checked out and there I was told I would never be able to have children. So, I didn’t think anything of being pregnant. I took some pregnancy tests just out of curiosity and they were both positive so I just wanted to be sure.” You said and she nodded.

“I’ll get someone in here to do some bloodwork and I’ll be back in a few.” She said and you nodded and she was gone and a nurse was coming in.

“Hi, I’m Nurse Harper. I’m gonna get some blood, ok?” She asked and you nodded.

“Ok.” You said and she did what she told you and she was gone. It amazed you at how quickly everything was getting done. While you set alone thoughts ran through your head, you so desperately wanted a kid especially with Bobby.

20 minutes later Dr. Muntz was walking in with a smile on her face and you prepared for the worst and the best. “I have the results and I would like to say congratulations.” She said and tears spring to your eyes.

“Really?” You asked and she nodded and smiled.

“We can do an ultrasound if you would like.” She said

“Please.” You said and she smiled.

“Go ahead and lay back and raise your shirt up.” She said and so you did and she brought over the machine and some gel. “This is going to be a little cold.” She said and you nodded and she spread the gel over your stomach and you shivered “I’m sorry.” She said and you shook your head.

“It’s ok.” You replied she then brought the wand down on your stomach and moved it over it.

“Everything looks good here and here is your baby.” She said and froze it on the spot and you started to cry harder.

“Can I have a few copies?” You asked in a teary voice.

“Of course.” She said and gave you a paper towel to wipe the gel off as she printed out the pictures and handed them to you. “Here is a folder with lists of things you should be doing and medications you should be taking. There is one for what you should be eating and staying away from. There is some information in there as well on other things. You can also call and ask questions and my personal number is in there as well. Are there any questions?” She asked and you nodded.

“My previous gynecologist said I would never be able to have kids. Why is that?” You asked

“There are a lot of possibilities and things change when you get older. Your body could have not been ready for kids and it was showing that but it is now or they could’ve been wrong about everything. But your body is ready now and you’re growing a life inside of you. We’ll be here every step of the way for you and your husband.” She said you teared up.

“Can I hug you?” You ask and she chuckled.

“Of course.” She said and you did so and then you released her “Go head and head on out and reception will set you up with appointments and get medications called in for you.” She said and you smiled and nodded and did just that. When you got to the waiting room Hen saw you and you smiled at her and nodded. Once you got everything set up you thanked reception and walked over to her.

“Is it official?” She asked and you nodded.

“It is.” You said wiping tears away and smiling.

“Oh, this is exciting! Bobby is going to be ecstatic!” She exclaimed

“Oh shit! How am I going to tell him?” You asked

“You’ll think of a way. You’re smart.” She said and you chuckled and then you two were walking out and she drove you home.

“I have a way but I need your help.” She said as she pulled up into the driveway, Bobby was already gone. She nodded and you told her after a long explanation you were getting out and watching her drive away. You went inside and started to plan on what you needed. You got into your car and drove to the store and got the cutest shirts ever: ‘My Daddy is My Hero’ with a firetruck on it and ‘My Daddy is a Firefighter’. You were amazed at how many firefighter baby outfits there were. You went home and started to plan everything out and worked on how much you would need to buy and how much to save. You put his gift together and attached the ultrasound picture. You kept this up until it was time to go to bed.

*******************************

Two days later you were nervous. You spent most of the morning perfecting his gift and preparing yourself for the outcomes. You looked down at your watch and saw that it was later than you thought. You took a breath and let it out. “Alright let’s do this.” You said and drove to the station. When you got there, you parked by his truck and got out while grabbing the bag and walked in. You quickly spotted Hen “Hen!” You said and she turned around and smiled.

“Hey! You ready to do this?” She asked and you nodded.

“Yup, I’m ready.” You said

“Hey, Y/N/N.” Buck and Eddie said at the same time and then Chimney came over and greeted you.

“Have you told them?” You asked Hen and she nodded.

“Congratulations by the way.” Eddie said and you smiled.

“Thank you.” You said

“When did you find out?” Buck asked

“3 days ago.” You said

“That’s great.” Chimney said and then you looked at Hen and nodded and she looked at everyone else.

“Cap! Get down here!” She yelled and you couldn’t help but keep smiling as you heard his footsteps and you took your spot on the floor with the help of Buck and they all gathered around.

“What? Is everyone ok?” He asked and he saw everyone gathered around.

“Y/N got here and she just collapsed.” Hen said keeping a straight face and he was quick to bend down.

“Baby, are you ok?” He asked, worry evident on his face and you nodded.

“Yea, I just light headed for a minute.” You said and that wasn’t all a lie.

“Let’s get you up and sitting on something more comfortable.” He said and you nodded as everyone helped you stand and then helped you up the stairs to the couch and he sat down beside you. You made sure to grab you the present and then once everyone was gone you decided it was time to tell him.

“Thank you, Baby. Our baby is going to be so lucky to have you as a dad.” You said casually letting it slip and it seemed like he caught on.

“What did you just say?” He asked and you smiled.

“Our baby is going to be so lucky to have you as a dad.” You said and you could see the gears turning and then you handed him the bag and he slowly took out the outfits.

“Are you serious?” He asked and you nodded.

“I am.” You said and then he got to the ultrasound picture and tears sprung to his eyes.

“When did you find out?” He asked

“3 days go.” You said and then he was pulling you into a hug.

“I thought you were told you couldn’t have kids.” He said breathlessly.

“I did too but they said the other doctor got it wrong. I can have kids.” You said and a wide smile broke out on his face and one did on yours too and happy tears sprung to your eyes.

“I’m so happy for us, Baby. You’re going to be a good mom.” He said “How far along are you?” He asked and you smiled.

“I’m happy to. You’re going to be such a good dad. 9 weeks so 2 months.” You said and then he was slipping off the couch and kneeling coming face to face with your stomach. Hands on your stomach and he started to speak.

“Hi, baby. It’s your dad. I promise to be a good one to you and I’ll love you and your mom unconditionally. Your mom is such an amazing mom so please don’t give her a hard time.” He said and you smiled as you ran a hand through his hair and you kissed his head. “You don’t know this but you're our little miracle. We can’t wait for you to be here in our arms.” He said and then pressed a kiss on your stomach and leaned up and kissed you.

“Congratulations, Daddy.” You said against his lips.

“Right back at you, Mommy.” He said, making you chuckle as he put his forehead on yours.

You both couldn’t wait for this baby. You both were going to love him or her unconditionally. It may be hard at times but you both had each other to lean on. Having each other to lean on is all that matters and so is having a healthy baby. You both were ready for this after trying for months and failing and getting told you couldn’t have kids. You finally had your miracle and you couldn’t wait to raise him or her. Your family was now becoming complete.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@grandstrangerphantom

@angenu01-blog

@talesofreading

@callsign-revenge

#bobby nash x reader #bobby nash x reader imagines #bobby nash x reader imagine #bobby nash x reader fanfiction #bobby nash x reader fan fiction #9-1-1 x reader imagines #9-1-1 x reader imgines #9-1-1 x reader fandom #9-1-1 x reader fanfiction #9-1-1 x reader fan fiction #9-1-1 #9-1-1 imagine #9-1-1 imagines #9-1-1 fics #9-1-1 fandom #9-1-1 fanfiction

70 notes · View notes

m1ssunderstanding · 8 months

Text

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 13

Ah it’s “coordinate with the carpet” day.

John could probably say “2+2=3” and Paul would be like “Oh you're sooo right, John.”

Literally the ADHD antics (jumping over a chair because it’s there and you can and it would be funner than going around) are so relatable.

Ringo putting Zac’s picture up? I don’t know much about him as a dad. Does anyone know? I mean I know part of the reason he and Mo left india was because they missed their kids, and in late 66 when John was making HIWTW and Paul was working on TFW and George was off learning filthy eastern ways, Ringo stayed home and ‘enjoyed the baby’. Was he a really good dad?

John: I really liked how that lead singer was singing so soft and nice. Paul: like this, John? Like this? John? John, look at me, do you like this?

Literally why are you even there, Yoko. Like, genuinely, not for the bands sake or anything, but for your own sake, go find somewhere else to be! Something, something, one of the few ways to find success as a woman was to attach yourself to a man and she was hustling with the best feminist tools available okay, okay. Ugh, I just don't know if I could stomach it.

I heard John say “Rickie and the Red Streaks” and I was like, ummm, did you mean “Suzie and the Red Stripes”? But apparently it’s a real band. They were in the same Cavern show as the Beatles when they came back from Hamburg but never made it big. And Paul was purposely referencing them with Linda's pretend band because, as he said, he would have been happy to just have been them instead of the Beatles.

“John, can you take a little bit of bass off your guitar?” The faces. Paul told him to take some bass off a minute ago, didn't he? Or he just knows how much John hates to be told that. Anyway it's the silent communication for me.

Paul: *stops his little wordless moan-singing for two seconds*. John: Everybody had a wet drea–SING, Paul! Paul: Ooohh yeah! He’s sooo happy I’m melting. Paul McCartney wants one thing in this life, and it’s for John Lennon to tell him to sing.

“He would’ve been president, you know.” John, bless your naive, lovely heart.

Paul: shrieking. John: moves the microphone the way a mom takes the sharpie out of her toddler’s hand.

“If you can get ‘em off Mimi’s wall.” I have a hard time with Mimi. Sometimes she’s adorable. Sometimes she’s horrible. I really can’t get a read. And maybe that was the problem. Maybe John couldn’t either.

This moment. My little ND baby. Someone just hit your g spot, didn’t they? But to be fair, it is incredibly impressive. Billy has never heard the song before, and he just jumps in with the perfect fill? I love Billy. So talented, such a cutie, so cool, so kind. And look at him. Having such a good time.

The silent communication again here. “Are you hearing this?” “Yeah, baby, I’m hearing this.” Then, John vocalizes the decision. How many Beatles decisions were made like this? Thinking specifically of Brian's account of their decision for him to manage, but probably this happened constantly.

Yoko reading “The Beatles Complete History”. I love that she’s like, “Everything John tells me is ‘Paul this, Paul that, wah, wah, wah’. I need to get some cold hard facts.”

Billy’s piano actually is insanely sexy though.

John: *complains about his rock and roll finger* Paul, turning up the scouse: Come on, son, now try your hardest. John continues, soft, needy' Lookie, look at him. *holding up his finger* Paul, genuine: Ah, I know. I just love the different ways they take care of each other.

Poor George, dissociating himself into another dimension as John’s crooning about Paul’s eating habits. Look. At. How. He’s. Looking. At. Him. You’d think Paul was in that moment creating the heavens and the earth. Nope. Just rocking back and forth like a catatonic, probably getting crumbs all in his greasy beard.

But seriously HOW is everyone in this room watching these two men, taking in to account all of their behaviors, scream "All I want is you!" at each other and not forcing them immediately into either fucking or therapy or both?!

Ringo’s holey pocket, my beloved.

The guy with the RP accent and the suit coming up to John like the bad guy in every American children’s movie. “I’ve spoken to Mr. Klein.” Dun, dun, dun.

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #get back

151 notes · View notes

ice-ice-lizzie · 3 months

Text

Translation of the Thomas Bordeleau interview on episode 329 of the Sans Restriction podcast hosted by Kevin Raphael. Bold text was originally in English and translator's notes are in brackets. Additional notes are at the end.

Host: Tommy B on the podcast. Tommy B, do you have a new tattoo?

Thom: Mmmm. No. No. Not so far.

Host: It's the same? I haven’t seen [unintelligible].

Thom: (shows him the tattoos on his shoulder)

Host: Okay, ehhhhh.

Thom: I’ve got ‘Bordeleau’ like that (shows tattoo on his bicep) and ‘Bordeleau’ over here as well (shows tattoo on the back of his arm).

Host: Ohhhh. Ohhhhh. It’s like La Valle*. How’s it going Big Dog? Happy to see you, happy to see you, man. How’ve you been spending the summer? You’ve been training here [in Montreal]?

Thom: I’m doing alright. I haven’t seen you too often lately.

[both talking at the same time]

Host: We should go to L'Alliance. I have tickets. I have tickets for L’Alliance.

Thom: Yes, yes.

[both talking at the same time again]

Thom: But ummm, no, it’s going well. Just taking a break and then training. Our season ended early in (he pauses to think) mid-April?

Host: Yo. That’s on paper. (Laughing) Your season ended in mid-February.

Thom: Exactly. Yeah, unfortunately. [Making playoffs] was not in reach that early in the season, but, uh, no, it is what it is. I took a month off.

Host: What did you do? When you were in San Jose and the season ended, you guys had your meetings or whatever the next day I guess?

Thom: Mmm yeah. On the next day maybe, or to give it some time, two or three days later.

Host: So you take care of business and then you come here?

Thom: They can ship your equipment.

Host: Oh! They ship your equipment?

Thom: It’s the teams who do it. It depends on the equipment manager and what they want. We’re lucky. But uhh I ship my car and I keep my equipment in my car so it doesn’t really matter.

Host: So you put your gear in your car and you send it all in a boat?

Thom: No, it’s just on a truck that drives it across country.

Host: Shit, Quebec is [unintelligible] man.

Thom: It’s expensive. Really expensive.

Host: Oh yeah? It’s bad eh?

Thom: It’s a little insane. Having two cars might be worth it. It’s a shit show shipping everything across the continent.

Host: Because you ship everything before [the season] and after [the season]?

Thom: Yeah. Now the team helps but at the beginning, (giggling) at the beginning I did it all.

Host: What’s the thing, that right now, you know, there’s the team, but did you ever think to yourself did I really pay for all of that at the beginning, for real man?

Thom: Oh

Host: There’s plenty of things in this job that I have to do myself, there’s a lot. There’s a lot.

Thom: Sometimes, just for simple things, like food or supplements anyways, like [unintelligible] for nothing. It’s funny I was talking to my dad and he said ‘when you’re playing everyone wants to give you everything for free but you don’t appreciate it until after your career is over because that’s when you need the paid promotions but no one wants to give them to you.

Host: My method is to buy clothes that I like, but after I put them on, I take a photo, or someone takes a photo, it’s on Instagram, put it on Instagram stories, and it’s like yo Kev’s wearing these clothes.

[both taking at the same time]

Thom: For free.

Host: I’m like I ain’t no bitch. Send the goods!

[both talking at the same time]

Thom: It helps to wear the clothing that they give you. Shout out Elwood. They sent me-

Host: Who?

Thom: Elwood.

Host: Where are they from?

Thom: L.A. It’s a brand from L.A. They’re good.

Host: Shout out. (looking into the camera) Yo Elwood! (looking back at Thom) Elwood?

Thom: (laughing) Elwood.

Host: (looking into the camera) Elwood L.A. Yo yo yooooooo. Sans Restrictions podcast needs some Elwood.

Thom: Thanks guys.

Host: Tommy B needs some Elwood.

Both: (laughter)

Host: Ok, so the season ends and you come here but you’re not on vacation.

Tom: Yeah, I had to stay here for a bit because my grandmother has health problems that made it so we needed to stay here with her and my grandfather, then three weeks after we came here, we took a little trip to South Carolina to golf. It was nice. Incredible temperatures.

Host: It’s only me who can say ‘that shit white.' [Host is black]

Tom: Oh yeah. Yeah yeah yeah. Real white.

Host: South Carolina, bro? Like the people there are called Corwin. There’s no Mustafas, there’s no-

Tom: Yeah, there’s not a lot.

Host: There’s like ‘John’

Tom: (snorts) Richard.

Host: Richard. Paul.

[both giggling too much to say anything]

Host: But how’s the golfing down there?

Thom: Insane.

Host: You’ve seen my swing, man?

Thom: On the ice, we’d call it a slapshot, but that’s- that’s not-

Host: It goes straight.

Thom: Yeah, yeah it goes straight.

Host: I can still hear the sound of it-

Thom: But it can actually go too far. It can go too far.

[both talking at the same time]

Host: What’s your [furthest distance]**?

Thom: Not too far. 250? 300?

Host: That’s a lot. That’s a lot. What’s your problem?

Thom: Well, you’re right. I [unintelligible] yesterday. At the tournament, I mean not tournament, at the Benjamin Saint Just Foundation ummmm yeah. They did 400 for the longest drive of the day.

Host: You’re shitting me. This guy is fucking with us. Josh, we invite him on the podcast and he’s fucking with us a little. It’s laughable, Josh. Ok. So the season ends and you’re training how many times a week?

Thom: Everyday.

Host: Every day on the ice?

Tom: No, everyday in the gym. On the ice at the beginning, two times a week, later in the summer three, four, five times a week.

Host: Then how… The season is long. Bro, I listened to the games. I looked for you.

Thom: (laughing through his nose)

Host: Shit, it’s long bro. How is it so long?

Thom: The hardest game of my life was the one that was 10 to 1 against the Oilers at the end of the year.

Host: It was 10 to 1?

Thom: It was bad in every sense of the word. They were just getting through us all over the place.

Host: Oh shit.

[Both laugh]

Host: Ok admit it, admit it, it was 7 to 1 there, and-

Thom: No, but it was 4-0 after like five minutes and we were like oh my god.

Host: How does that happen? 4-0 after five minutes.

Thom: Well, we had a lot, we had a lot of our players who weren’t playing.

Host: Bro, 4-0 after five minutes is classic but [something I can’t make out about comedians in the NHL]

Thom: Yeah, It was tough. It was tough. A tough game. I think that-

Host: When it got to 9 to 1, was there any chatter on the bench?

Thom: Well, no.

Host: Was anyone talking?

Thom: No. We were trying to do something. We were trying to play well. We were trying. The worst thing, I think, was, if I can remember, I think I’m right, but I think, it was 9-1 at the end of the second.

Host: Impossible.

Thom: Or maybe the beginning of the third, because I remember there was a good moment at the end of the game where we didn’t score but, like, we could have had, we could have had it.

Host: Bro. Did you ever have a game this shitty at Michigan or..? (trails off laughing)

Thom: Yeah… I’m sure. I’m sure. It’s tough. You don’t want to get into the habit of losing. You don’t want to develop that kind of mindset. I’ve never had that mindset. Each loss really pisses me off***. It happened so often, but it’s hard to develop an ‘ok, onto the next day’ mindset when it really pisses you off, when you want to win.

Host: At least this year they played you more.

Thom: Yeah, they used me a lot at the end of the year. I really, I found my game in the NHL. I found the optimal place for me, how I see the game, how I think about the game. It clicked.

Host: What was your favorite moment from this year? Not necessarily a goal but like was there a moment there that made you go nice?

Thom: Damn. Umm there’s a lot. Well, at the beginning of the year when we took our team trip to Napa, when I made the team after camp, after I made the team at the beginning of the year, then we took the team trip to Napa. It was my first team trip in the NHL. It was fun. I found it really fun. Ummm, then another moment, another good moment, it was really nice. it was one of those games where I scored twice.

Host: ‘One of’ (laughing).

Thom: No, but it was against Chicago and it was really nice because it was rare this year. It was tough for the fans because of how often we lost and even at the end of the year they showed up. It was really packed. It was a nice feeling, especially at home.

Host: Tell me about the Connor Bedard effect. You’ve played two games against him, right?

Thom: Yeah, two games.

Host: So what’s it like, the Connor Bedard effect?

Thom: It’s crazy. Everyone is already a fan. He’s like the next big thing****, he started with fans, like he already has a fan base. I guess everyone is talking about him, even the journalists.

Host: So, when you see him you want to give him [unintelligible but he does a hand motion like a punch].

Thom: (laughing) No, well, we have lots of friends in common.

Host: You have friends in common?

Thom: Kent Johnson, who I played with in Michigan.

Host: Ohhhh, true. So you’ve already seen him.

Thom: We’ve crossed paths at NHLPA events and things like that.

Host: There’s going to be rumors, you know. They’re going to say ‘Yo, Tommy B is boys with CB’.

Thom: (laughing) No, no, we’re not boys.

Host: No, but do you have boys, besides Kent Johnson, that play with you guys, that you play against in the NHL? You know, a lot of the time in basketball you play against someone a little and there’s a respect that develops and he becomes your boy, right?

Thom: Yeahhh, uh, not lately, just because I was moving up and down between the AHL and the NHL.

Host: You were up more than you were down this year, right?

Thom: I didn’t play badly, but I did play more down than I did up. I spent a little over half the season down [in the AHL]. They brought me up just before the deadline. [Unintelligible] playing with all these teams like that. In the AHL, the players, the roster changes so often. It’s really the guys from Quebec that stick together.

Host: Do you talk to each other very often on the ice?

Thom: Yeah, sometimes. It depends on how you know each other, but there’s even times when you know each other really well but you won’t talk on the ice, just before or after.

Host: In San Jose, you’re the Barracudas?

Thom: Yeah, Barracuda. Yeah. It’s a really good place for the AHL. A new arena, a new dressing room. Listen, for me, the jerseys are good quality, everything is beautiful.

Host: Did you keep a jersey? Did you keep a Barracuda jersey?

Thom: I have a couple, I think.

Host: So you went to Napa, and you also played in the opening game.

Thom: It was a good moment, the opening game.

Host: They said your name!

Thom: It was nice. My first opening game in the NHL. It was really cool.

Host: What do you say, [unintelligible] up in the NHL?

Thom: Uhhhh yes. Yes, but it’s just… It was the first time that I really did that up in the NHL and I want to appreciate it as much as possible.

Host: Were you able to sleep before the opening game?

Thom: Yeah, yeah I had a nap, yeah. Each game day I take a nap. We had a morning skate that morning, after that I went back to our house. I made myself eat. A lot of the time I’ll do normatec^, like I do a lot of things for my legs, just for recovery things for my legs, then I make myself eat. Just pasta all the time before I go to sleep.

Host: The same thing?

Thom: Bolognese. All the time.

Host: All the time?

Thom: Spaghetti Bolognese.

Host: You eat that before going to sleep, bro? That’s the sort of thing my coach told me never to do in gym class. Here comes Kev, you’re already a fat fu-

Thom: It’s a forty minute nap.

Host: A forty minute nap?! [He says something about 20 minutes that I can't make out because they're talking over each other]

Thom: Quick, quick, quick. 45 is perfect for me.

Host: Now we know the demands of the NHL. Pasta and then sleep!

Thom: No, but everyone sleeps before they eat. Everyone has a pre-game meal in the NHL. I’ve done it ever since I came to the NHL.

Host: Oh, yeah?

Thom: Like, the pre-game meal is at one in the afternoon, two in the afternoon. You eat, you take your nap, you have a snack.

Host: Do you have a place far away from the arena or are you close?

Thom: Close. Just beside it. I live downtown. Right there in the middle of it.

Host: Are there guys who stay there because they live too far away?

Thom: Where? At the arena?

Host: Yeah.

Thom: Oh, no, no. Morning skate is over at ten in the morning and we don’t have to be there for the game until 4:35.

Host: So your favorite game was the first game, but you had two goals against Chicago and then who else?

Thom: Ottawa.

Host: Ohhh, but Ottawa… [trails off with the implication that he thinks that Ottawa won the game].

Thom: Oh but us (starts laughing).

Host: (laughing harder)

Thom: Like, we really played well that game, like we were good in that one^^.

[talking over each other]

Host: My guy said ‘us’. (lots of laughing) What song would you choose to put over your goal highlights when you put them on insta reels?

Thom: Damn. Right now-

Host: Not Like Us, by Kendrick Lamar. Yes!

Thom: (laughs) One of Wun.

Host: What’s that, One of Wun?

Thom: From Gunna’s new album.

Host: Oh.

Thom: Mmm-hm.

Host: Oh, yeah?

Thom: Mm-hm.

Host: Okay. That’s not North Carolina. [I think he’s trying to reference earlier when they were talking about South Carolina].

Thom: Nope. Not at all. Not at all. It’s far away.

Host: (mimes playing a banjo) Dinga-linga-a-ling, dinga-ling-a-long. Banjo!

[both giggling]

Host: So, do you celly? When you-

Thom: I could but no. I don’t really do a big celly.

Host: You do the- (badly mimes the heart breaker celly)

Thom: Not really, no.

Host: Who does that one?

Thom: Kane.

Host: Ohh, it’s Patrick Kane who does it.

Thom: Yeah, the heart breaker (mimes the heart breaker celly very small).

Host: Yeah. Ohhhh, you know the name?

Thom: Yeah, you make the heart and then you break it after. (mimes the heart breaker celly).

Host: It’s a heart, bro?

Thom: Heart breaker. (mimes the heart breaker celly).

Host: I thought he was swimming!

Thom: No, no, no, no.

Host: I swear to you, no one knows that.

Thom: Well, that’s what it is. The celly is called the heart breaker.

Host: That’s a team USA thing.

Thom: Everyone who plays hockey knows about it.

Host: (to the producer) Bro, did you know about that? No one knows that it’s called the heart breaker.

Thom: Wow.

Host: We’re going to put that on tiktok. Who knew it was the heart breaker? What’s your favorite celly?

Thom: The heart breaker is beautiful. I’ve never done it but I think it’s great. When someone does it, it’s hockey. But it’s Kane who came up with it.

Host: Oh, he came up with it?

Thom: [He says something about Kane and showtime that I cannot make out]

Host: I like it when you jump. When you jump in your cellies, it’s nice. It makes for good photos. But do you guys celly after every goal?

Thom: A lot of the time I lift up one leg or go to my knees.

Host: Ok, that’s a celly. When someone scores and doesn’t even raise their arms, I’m like, man why don’t you, it’s fucking difficult in the NHL.

Thom: Yeah. Sometimes I do that, but it also depends on the goal and the game.

Host: Even if it’s 10 to 1-

Thom: I guarantee you when Edmonton was beating us 6 to 0 and we scored, I did not celebrate much.

Host: Ok. Are you satisfied with your season? What’s your evaluation? Your first real season.

Thom: My second. For the first one, I spent the majority of the year in the AHL. That was my first real pro season.

Host: So it’s your third year?

Thom: My second full year. My second year that I finished. So I burned that first year when I signed after Michigan and played some NHL games and then after summer.

Host: Oh, it was games at the end of the year.

Thom: Yeah. Games at the end of the year.

(Both laugh)

Thom: Prime time! Prime time!

(they toast with their mugs)

Host: [He says something in English but I can not understand him] (pointing at Thom) He has good people giving him advice! He burned a game!

Thom: No, well, when you sign your contract after you’re 20 and you play a game in the NHL you burn a year.

Host: Mmmm.

Thom: But if you sign before you’re twenty, it’s ten games.

Host: Oh, so you did ten games.

Thom: No, for me it was one game.

Host: Yo, that’s crazy bro. I need your agent in my life, man.

Thom: Pat Brisson. Shout out.

Host: Yo, shout out Pat. Okay, there are lots of comedians who listen. Do you have some advice for them, because I have a problem with you. You, you’re so chill until the third period and then you go crazy. You go crazy! If there’s only 5 minutes left, we’re still sitting on the bench because we can’t play without you. What advice do you have, not for me, because I have a good shot like Antony Duclair, but if you had one piece of advice to give, what would it be?

Thom: Find… umm… the spot on the bench that’s the most comfortable.

Host: (shocked laughter) WOW.

Thom: I’m sorry. (big laughter)

Host: WOW. You there on the ice, such trash talk.

Thom: No no no. (laughing)

Host: It’s impossible. It’s impossible that you don’t trash talk. First of all at Michigan, you trash talked.

Thom: Oh totally.

(both laughing)

Host: Ok. Ok there. We’ve got to be PG, but what is your best trash talk? Your best PG trash talk?

Thom: The best trash talk was our student section at Michigan. They’d look for the families of the players, and they’d get their pictures and social media, ex girlfriends, tinder profiles, all of that.

Host: Shit. You dodged the question by saying that.

Thom: (laughter)

Host: It’s good, it’s good, it’s good. You’re nasty, man.

Thom: PR trained.

Host: You’re nasty. That’s how- no one was talking about it when you came into the league. You explained that it’s not a big deal, but after that, after three years, how do you manage the PR and all of that?

Thom: Uh, well for me, I’ve been lucky with my agent, Pat Brisson. The year before the draft, he had a camp in L.A. We did a practice draft. He made us watch a practice about the news about new supplements and then someone caused a concussion and at the same time-

Host: I caused a concussion..

Thom: (laughs) And at the same time there was an actor from Grown Ups-

Host: Oh yeah?

Thom: -who did our PR training about how to like, show your personality, without putting yourself in a bad spot. He prepared us really well. And then there was a little bit about how to do social media.

Host: It’s not a big deal but that’s not what Jean Sebastian [Dea] said. [Jean-Sebastian Dea's NHL contract was terminated shortly after he appeared on the Sans Restrictions podcast].

[both laughing]

Thom: No comment.

Host: I’m the only one that’s going to lose his job after this podcast. (laughing) Oh man. Okay. It’s true [unintelligible] after the podcast.

Thom: I don’t know about that, but I’ll be surprised if that’s what happens.

Host: Bro, man, [Jean-Sebastian Dea] texted, bro bro [Dea] goes all out for the podcast, okay? Then me, each time I feel like going all out-

Thom: Did you fact check it?

[I’m omitting like three sentences here that make no sense to me]

Host: He came on the podcast.

Thom: He came on the podcast at Christmas?

Host: No at the end of the year. The end of the year. Anyways, he said things, bro. I said what am I going to do with you, man. I said to Bruno [the producer], can we do that? Is that something we can put out? And he said yeah, we can put that out, so I did it and he lost his job. I felt so bad. They said terminated or whatever. I felt bad. I panicked. I texted him, not at the beginning, I texted him two days later, I said yo, my bad, man, he said no, it is what it is, I wanted it. I wanted to sign with the KHL. I said Man, fuck this mother fucker, man. I couldn’t sleep!

Thom: I felt bad!

Host: I couldn’t sleep, bro! But he comes on the pod all the time. He’s welcome to go all out on the pod, the Russians don’t blink, you can say whatever you want^^^. Ok, so what’s been the hardest thing for you right now during your transition from your first year as a pro to your second year? What was the hardest thing, apart from losing 10 to 1?

Thom: Getting sent down to the AHL in my second year.

Host: Oof.

Thom: Yeah, that felt bad.

Host: Did they call you? (mimes putting a phone up to his ear)

Thom: No, it was- At training camp, I made the team, and then I played, mm (he’s counting in his head) eight games? Nine games?

Host: But that went well, didn’t it?

Thom: Personally, I thought it did, but we went zero for ten in the first ten games.

Host: (giggling).

Thom: Something had to give. But you know, obviously, I was the youngest on the team, besides Eklund. And it was me, then Eklund. They wanted me to go back to the AHL. They called me on a road trip that was like seven games, which is a long time to be on the road. We went from California to Florida with stops in Nashville, the Hurricanes, all that. We were on game seven of the road trip and there was a rest day after game six, but before the morning of game seven, at the hotel, the GM called me and came and met me in the lobby. I’d been in the middle of taking a walk, because when we stay in Washington, it’s really beautiful in Georgetown, like around the Four Seasons. It’s really cute. So I was taking a walk, and I was like 15 minutes away from the hotel and he called me and I turned right around and I had a 15 minute walk back and I called my dad because I was sure they were going to send me down. They had just scratched me the game before. I played like 6 games, then I was scratched, then they put me back in the line up for two games, then my last game in the NHL before they sent me down, I remember it was against the Tampa Bay Lightning, we lost, like 8-0. We were more dominated than the game where we lost 10-1. It was horrible. I can’t remember anything except for one zone exit. I think that for me, that was a traumatic NHL game.

Host: He was traumatized!

Thom: One of the things that made me like that, [the zone exit] didn’t bother me until they sent me down.

Host: But that’s crazy, you didn’t have a chance-

Thom: Oh, no, no. Not at all, they tried things-

Host: But that’s not what you told yourself because, for me-

Thom: There was nothing to do, I was just trying to grind it out.

Host: I coach soccer. When the other team drives the ball to us there’s a moment where someone gotta do something.

Thom: Yeah, but…

Host: Hey. Hey.

Thom: But we didn’t necessarily have the tools to-

Host: There wasn’t someone to do something.

Thom: We had Hertl, who did everything for us, but-

Host: Yeah, yeah, but he was all alone.

Thom: Yeah, and Couture was injured the entire season. He had a rough year, unfortunately. He came back for seven games. The seven best games for the Sharks by far. He’s a big piece.

Host: His impact is crazy.

Thom: He’s incredible, a great guy. The best dude ever. He’s really [unintelligible] you can’t replace him. He’s just there to help. He’s like another coach. If you have a question about anything you can ask him and he’ll answer you. He’s my go to when I have a question about anything, it’s him that I ask. He gives me an answer every time with pleasure. He really comes in clutch.

Host: Ok. You lost 8 to 0 and you were at the Four Seasons…

Thom: Yeah, 8-0 and we were at the Four Seasons, I took my walk and they called me, and when I got back then they started talking to me, and I said I think I know where this is going, eh they said unfortunately-

Host: That’s how they welcomed you?

Thom: Well, you know. I didn’t want… I didn’t want… There were other, really good players in the NHL, it’s a tough league. I didn’t want to seem like I had a bad attitude especially because I wanted them to call me back up as fast as possible. Just like, I wanted to play in the AHL and play good minutes, the power play, 5 on 5, and I did that, and when they called me back up to the NHL I wasn’t sent down again because at the end of the season I was playing my best hockey.

Host: And how did they announce that you were being called up again?

Thom: My AHL coach called me and told me, yeah you’ve been called up, you’ll practice with the others tomorrow.

Host: Ok, but talk to me about how it felt! When you were sent down you went from taking the jet to taking the bus.

Thom: Yeah. Yeah.

Host: What takes 2 hours in the NHL takes 12 hours in the AHL.

Thom: Exactly, yeah. It wasn’t that bad but my back did hurt.

Host: So they called you and told you you’re going back to the NHL. How did you react?

Thom: Ah. I was miserable because it was late at night and I just wanted to go back to bed, so I was miserable, but then they told me and I was really excited. And then I didn’t want to go back to bed because I, like, wanted to enjoy it as much as possible before going to bed because I knew as soon as I woke up in the morning it would be like boom business, so I went to bed trying to savor it.

Host: (pretending he’s Thom) Yay! They called me up! [unintelligible]

Thom: Yeah. You switch to a different mode. You enjoy each day. I spent a lot of time with the boys, all of them, even the older guys. It was good to see them again.

Host: So how does like, you’re the smallest one there, right?

Thom: Mmm hmm.

Host: You play like (gestures and makes zooming noise). I have season tickets for the Rocket [the Canadiens AHL affiliate]. Jesus Christ, those guys don’t look where they’re going. I said to Jean-Phillipe Vautier at the celebrity game when he landed a big hit on me, you saw that?

Thom: No.

Host: When he hit me?

Thom: Oh yeah, I think I did see that.

Host: He laid me out, I was like disrespect.

Thom: Me, I’m lucky. I have a guy called Bokondji Imama who changed division.

Host: Oh! You played with Boko?

Thom: Well, I played against him in the AHL.

Host: You played against Boko? Toughhhhh. Was Boko still there when you got sent back down?

Thom: (laughing) Oh, Boko, he’s my boy.

Host: he said, ohh, Boko he doesn’t fuck with me.

Thom: I hope. [unintelligible because he’s laughing so hard]

Host: I know that Boko switches.

Thom: Oh yeah, you see it. Alright, I remember looking for someone else and then, next thing you know, he’s suspended for three games. Damn. Boko’s a different beast.

Host: The toughest guy that I’ve ever met is Boko Imama.

Thom: He skates really fast, he’s the whole package. Shout out Boko Imama.

Host: I saw him at a Rockets game and he was punching guys. Everyone was like eh I’m good. He was pulling on their jerseys like this (pulls the collar of his shirt away from his body). I’m good, I’m good. You’ve never fought, right? You’ve never dropped gloves?

Thom: Me? No, never. I’ve never fought.

Host: You don’t have the taste for it? What’s the closest you’ve ever been to fighting?

Thom: Ah, uhh, there was a moment in the AHL during a back to back where I threw a punch but I didn’t finish it.

Host: It’s what you’ve got to do. I don’t want you to fight because it’s dangerous. (Looks to the camera, pointing) [unintelligible] you ain’t doing this shit. (back to Thom) But you’re capable and say you’re on a team and everyone is squaring off with someone, ok?

Thom: (barely holding back laughter)

Host: Do you look for the smallest guy? Do you scan the crowd or is it really-

Thom: It’s really- It’s the closest guy and if the closest guy is the biggest, you’re like fuck. If the closest guy is the biggest one I just try to keep- I just try to-

Host: What do you guys say to each other when you’re squaring off like that? Like, yo, We’re not the same weight class. You’re heavyweight, I’m lightweight. Do you say, 'it’s not my problem, it’s not your problem, we good? We good'.

Thom: A lot of the time, a lot of the time it’s like that, except for when the other guy did something cheap.

Host: Right, except for that.

Thom: Then there’s no choice. But like if a guy comes out of the penalty box, for something like a back check [laughing too much for me to understand him] (makes a fist and mimes punching someone)

Host: I have a concussion guys! Zach Patterson gave me a concussion. Ok ok. So the AHL, is it, I won’t say easier because there are people who don’t give full respect to the league, but-

Thom: It’s harder.

Host: Yeah. Oh It’s harder, eh? A guy like you has a good way of seeing things. You have good hands. Do you feel like you have more of a place in the NHL than the AHL?

Thom: A little. In a sense, yes just because there’s more finesse in the NHL. In the AHL I’m not a playmaker, I don’t decide games, whatever. There’s less control, it’s just less of a league, but at the same time, there’s enough skills guys on each team, it’s a very good league, but it’s a war every game. Fist after fist.

[someone off screen says something]

Host: You won’t watch AHL games?

Thom: It’s scary.

Host: Oh yeah, it’s more scary.

Thom: Yeah.

Host: Even when I watch the boys play, I text them during the game. (points towards the camera) Yo, by the way, if you play professionally, and you text me back while you’re playing you are a vagabond, ok?

Thom: Yeah that’s weird.

Host: Yo there are so many guys. Yeah! You don’t do that in San Jose?

Thom: No.

Host: You better not.

Thom: (laughter) Put your phone away for the whole period.

Host: I won’t say who it was. I’m not going to snitch, but there was a guy who was texting me for two periods, who is in the NHL, during a very important game. I was working and then I saw a text from him and I was like, are you insane? And then he stopped responding. Do you get on your phone [during a game]?

Thom: No, but there are guys who listen to music on their phone, but no one is like texting (mimes holding a phone in front of him). Maybe sometimes there’s a guy who’s checked out of the game because he wants to text someone.

Host: Oh, huh. Are you going to go to Michigan?

Thom: No, but I went back at the end of last summer. It was really nice to skate with them, they’re a good group to skate with. I’m going to go back before the end of the year.

Host: But you’re not going for a game, for a presentation or anything like that?

Thom: No. No. Michigan, the regionals are in Saint Louis.

Host: Oh, yeah, I saw that.

Thom: We won against North Dakota.

Host: You won a national championship, right?

Thom: No.

[talking over each other- I can't make out what they're saying]

Thom: We lost the frozen four. Yeah. Tough game. One and done man. Tough game. All our season for one game, man.

Host: With all the talent you guys had?

Thom: Yeah.

Host: When you went back to the room and looked around you at all the talent-

Thom: Yeah.

Host: -did you say the fuck happened?

Thom: There were a lot of things expressed in that dressing room by the players there, unfortunately.

[both laughing]

Host: Yes! This is just for me. This is my overtime. What are you watching at the moment to relax?

Thom: I started-

Host: Rookie?

Thom: Alice in Borderland.

Host: What’s that?

Thom: (asking someone off screen) It’s what, Chinese? It’s like, like the same type of thing as Squid Games, but different.

Host: Would you do the Squid Games?

Thom: No, are you insane? It’s too much up to chance.

Host: But the game show version, would you do that?

Thom: Oh, the fake one? Oh yeah, well sure, I would do that. Will there be a Squid Games Quebec?

Host: Don’t give them the idea, man. They’re always looking for ideas. They have 100 USD hidden, what game do you think, without a team, which game could you do?

Thom: I’m trying to remember what the games were.

Host: There’s marbles, the one where you lick a cookie, there’s the, uhh, ice that you have to jump.

Thom: For me, I think the cookie one, or the first one where you have to turn around.

Host: Oh yeah.

Thom: It’s easy.

Host: Really, the cookie one?

Thom: Yeah, the cookie one.

Host: You’re not meticulous enough for that bro.

Thom: I’ll manage.

[both laughing. The host stands up and doubles over]

Thom: I have a wet mouth.

[both laughing more]

Host: Wooo. The podcast is almost over. The podcast is over, huh? Oh shit. I try to talk about business, because that’s what the podcast is for, but I also try to discover the person.

[Both of them laughing too hard to talk]

Host: You can’t make this shit up.

Thom: (takes a sip of water)

Host: I’m trying to reflect. I’m in a wedding, ok? (starts laughing again because Thom looks at him) Hold on, I’m trying to tell you. I’m in a wedding, and it’s all the same people together, and I’m in their wedding and at their wedding they have so many hockey players and I didn’t really know what was happening in the conversation but they explained to me, you know do your thing. Come on, Kev, do your thing, and after that I had 20 pros who were coaching me. Bro.

Thom: Like uncles.

Host: Best moment of my life. Best moment of my life. So I took their advice, you understand? It was theoretical, it was practical, right?

Thom: Yes.

Host: I did my thing, bro.

Thom: So you’re a pro now, or?

Host: No, no, no. My lady and me. She did my thing, bro. It was totally crazy. I woke up and I went to hide in the bathroom, and I texted my people like ‘yo, that worked!’

Thom: No way.

Host: Bro, since that day, bro, my game is at another level bro.

[both laughing]

[both talking over one another]

Host: (pointing at someone offscreen) You go out there (pointing at the door) and I’ll tell you (looking at Thom) something after.

Thom: Okay, okay.

Host: Okay, to finish, if they made a movie out of your life, what type of movie would it be? A romantic comedy, a thriller, what type of movie would it be and who would play you?

Thom: Damn.

Host: And don’t say Tom Holland, you’re too beefy for Tom Holland.

Thom: I don’t know, Tom Holland is pretty beefy.

Host: He goes to the gym?

Thom: Yeah, have you seen him?

Host: Tom Holland does not go to the gym.

Thom: He goes in Spiderman.

Host: Bro, that’s the wish version of Spiderman.

Thom: [unintelligible] Spiderman.

Host: Tobey McGuire is Spiderman bro. What are you talking about? I watched Endgame.

Thom: I have a special love for Tony Stark. I don’t know why, because Spiderman [unintelligible] Tony Stark.

Host: Really, Tony Stark?

Thom: Yeah.

Host: Really?

Thom: Yeah. Iron Man is just a different breed, different aura.

Host: Iron Man’s a little bit of a bitch.

Thom: You think so?

Host: Out of all the superheroes he’s the least powerful.

Thom: The least powerful?!

Host: Bro, he’s a robot.

Thom: But at the end- did you watch the movies? It’s because of him that everything works out!

Host: It might be because of him that everything works out but-

Thom: The technology is insane. Insane.

Host: Alright, moving on.

Thom: He was able to beat Hulk.

Host: Hulk? Hulk isn’t that strong by himself.

Thom: Iron Man isn’t in the same division as the ones that can change reality-

Host: Oh those are whack, those are whack, man, Dr. Strange is a bitch, the day he’s not happy with the way things are he fucks off. The best one is Black Panther.

Thom: Dope. Dope.

Host: Wakanda! My king!

Thom: (into the camera) RIP. RIP.

Host: Ok so who would play you in the movie?

Thom: What type of movie?

Host: Clearly it would be a superhero movie.

Thom: Oh well, maybe. [unintelligible]

Host: [laughing too much for me to understand him]. Ok, so who would play you?

Thom: Who would play me? Uh, I like…

Host: (pointing at someone off screen) Help him.

Thom: The guy that played Harvey Spector, but like in a comedy movie.

Host: Harvey?

Thom: Harvey Spector.

Host: That guy is like 45.

Thom: You want someone that’s my age?

Host: Oh no, but I didn’t expect to hear ‘Harvey Spector’.

Thom: Okay but I don’t know actors that are my age. I think, in the world, like-

Host: Harvey Spector could work.

Thom: Yeah, I think for an adult me.

Host: Like a future you?

Thom: Yeah.

Host: And what would the title of your book be?

Thom: The title of my book? Damn.

Host: I wrote a book, you know.

Thom: Oh really?

Host: I wrote a real book.

Thom: Nice. Is it good?

Host: This book is insane.

Thom: What’s it about?

Host: I can’t say.

Thom: Oh, so it’s not out yet. I’m sure I would have seen it otherwise. You made me think I missed it.

Host: Have you seen the Stanley Cup?

Thom: Seen?

Host: Yeah.

Thom: In my life, I think, yes? But I was young. As for my book, I’d call it bwater^^^^.

Host: bwater?

Thom: (holds up his glass of water) Bwater.

Host: Be water?

Thom: Be water.

Host: Why?

Thom: Adapt. Change form according to your container.

Host: That’s fucking nice. Bwater I like that.

Thom: With a little b-

Host: Like a type of water? That’s great.

Thom: Marketing.

Host: Marketing, yo bwater. That’s a classic, you take off your jersey and underneath (he mimes opening up his shirt) bwater. Okay, last thing. Why are you wearing that hat? Are you a 49’ers fan?

Thom: Yeah, in San Francisco, San Jose-

Host: But are you a fan of the team?

Thom: Of course. I went to two games this year.

Host: A fan of the team for real?

Thom: Yeah.

Host: Y’all like to lose, huh?

Thom: (laughter) It was a strong year for them.

Host: A strong year?

Thom: We’re doing good over here.

Host: You had two super bowls but you’re not in the Stanley Cup finals, you understand, so what are your extension requirements.

Thom: I remember we watched [the Superbowl] live in a restaurant as a team. We watched the TV like (leans forward and stares, eyes wide) what’s happening. I didn’t come back after they lost like that. But shout out to their insane season.

Host: Have you already told the guys on the team?

Thom: I haven’t said anything. I’ve seen Deebo [Samuel] at a shopping mall.

Host: You just crossed paths?

Thom: Yeah. He had shopping bags. He was with someone else.

Host: Did you say ‘What’s up’ to Deebo?

Thom: No, I didn’t say ‘What’s up’ to Deebo at that time. He was on a mission.

Host: In and out. (Laughter). I pass through that neighborhood sometimes.

Thom: Oh really?

Host: There’s [an In-N-Out Burger] in Montreal, did you know?

Thom: Is it uptown?

Host: No, it’s like, on Mansfield. There’s one over there.

Thom: But, no. The guys on the 49’ers I don’t know where they live, because the stadium is ten minutes from San Jose. It’s not in San Fransisco.

Host: I don’t know where the guys are, but the stadium is insane, for example-

Thom: The stadium is sick but it’s ten minutes from San Jose, so it’s 35 minutes from San Francisco, you know?

Host: Have you had any other encounters with celebrities during the season?

Thom: During the season? Who have I met… (thinking)

Host: You don’t have a lot of celebrities in San Jose.

Thom: Uhhh, no we don’t have a lot in San Jose. At times at games we’ve had a couple.

Host: [something about Montreal]

Thom: We only come to Montreal once a year.

Host: Oh poor guy.

Thom: We come in the night before a game, maybe like 1 am and after we play, we leave.

Host: Tommy B?

Thom: Yo.

Host: Thanks a lot for coming on the pod. Do your thing. Off season. There’s no reason to work too hard.

Thom: Yes sir.

Host: Don’t say anything (turning towards the camera) PAY THE MAN.

Thom: (giggles)

Host: PAY. THE. MAN. Put the cash in his account! That’s all I’m asking! Lots and lots of cash! Alright. Pay the man.

Thom: Help your employee.

Host: (laughter) Help your employee. I said not to say anything and you say ‘help your employee’. [unintelligible] the poor thing. Shit.

Notes: *I'm not sure what La Valle is, or if I'm spelling it right. **I'm not sure how to translate this because I'm not familiar with golf terminology in English. ***The french phrase I’m translating as ‘pisses me off’ literally translates to ‘makes me shit myself’. Just a little french lesson for you guys. ****Thom said ‘le nouveau Kid’ like referencing Sid the Kid but translating it to ‘the new kid’ has different connotations in English than it did in French. ^a type of compression therapy ^^The score of the game that Thom is talking about was San Jose 2, Ottawa 1. Thom scored both of San Jose’s goals. ^^^The host is probably unaware but Dea’s KHL contract had already been terminated by the airing of this podcast. ^^^^This is probably a pun. L’eau is the French word for water, like in Bordeleau.

#thomas bordeleau #san jose sharks #kevin raphael #sans restrictions podcast #translation

42 notes · View notes

the1975attheirverybest · 8 months

Text

Being Funny In A Foreign Language

Chapter 8- Sorry Bout The Bomb Thing….

A/N: okay so wax play will be in the next chapter cuz plot reasons. Two more chapters to go!

Warnings: kinky smut.

———

Matty’s ears rung with a persistent pressure and the faint echoes of last night’s live show. He could still hear the crowds cheering, calling out his name; remnants of Waugh’s saxophone honking, muffled, as though filled with water, played in the background of his mind. This was a soundscape that Matty had grown accustomed to– welcomed, even– but in the solitary confinement of his hotel bedroom, he found it unnerving. Trapped him in a liminal space between the stage and reality.

He poured himself a cup of coffee, sitting down at the dining table to resume his idle scrolling.

Not Matty Healy trying to justify his white savior complex with a rant onstage…Lmao, homie didn’t even make sense half the time.

Matty Healy playing the victim talking about almost getting imprisoned in Malaysia. What else do you expect when you disrespect their culture? A colonizer thank you card?

MH just tryna cover up the fact that Malaysia was a temper tantrum over TS

Matty felt the bile in his stomach rise back up; his chest tightening; his vision blurring. He couldn’t bring himself to click on the ‘news’ articles that he was tagged in– their titles containing his name– and find out what industry professionals had to say about this whole thing, so he changed to his messages instead.

Matty:

hey

in town for msg soon

you around?

Lilly

Yeah! For a couple days anyway… wanna come over for a drink sometime?

Matty

Are you free right now?

****

Matty watched, proudly, as Lilly’s legs twitched around his arm. Judging by the fact that he’d rendered her breathless, he was pretty satisfied that he’d done his job right. He pulled his fingers out of her and brought them to his lips for a taste, sucking wetly. She reached out, lazily grabbing at his shirt in an effort to pull him closer.

“Your turn now.” she whispered, before pulling him in by the collar of his shirt to kiss him.

Though Matty had been receptive to her touch, responding to the kiss with eager lips, his mind raced with panic. He couldn’t feel anything. And not just below the belt, he just wasn’t excited at all. Why wasn’t he excited? Is there something wrong with his body? Is he physically ill? Is he gradually losing all of his drive?

Lily unbuttoned his jeans and Matty wondered how he’d found himself in this same situation with two different women. His body stiffened, he attempted to reach for her hands, but it was too late.

“Oh.” Lily looked down at his lap then back at him. “I- sorry. I didn’t realize that…you didn’t wanna- ummm. I’d just assumed you wanted to have sex. Cuz, you asked to come over and-“

“I did! I do! I want to….i just might- need a minute?” His eyes darted around the room as he spoke.

Lily smiled, “oh, alright. I can help you relax.”

Her hands roamed his body, running her fingers down his chest, sensually, before deciding to undress him. Matty closed his eyes, laying down and attempting to focus on the present moment. Despite his (and lily’s) best efforts, though, he couldn’t get out of his own head.

“Still nothing, huh?” Lily had asked when she’d finally kissed her way down his body. Something, she’d assumed, would’ve given him enough time to get into the right mood.

“I mean, hey, if you’re not in the mood, it’s no problem, really! We could just watch tv-“

“No! No, no. I am in the mood. Erm, but could I ask you to do something- I mean…can we try something different?”

“What’d you have in mind?”

Matty pointed to his discarded jeans. “Do you see my belt over there?”

***

“Are you sure it won’t be a problem? You’re already pretty bruised.”

Matty flipped over onto his back, briefly, to assure her one last time. “Those bruises are old now. They look more dramatic than they feel, I promise.”

She shrugged. “If you say so…alright. Ready?”

Matty closed his eyes, burying his face into the bedding as pain rained down on him. He tried to conjure up memories of the last time that someone had whipped him bloody, thinking back to Amelia. His hand reached between his body and the duvet, grabbing himself and trying not to call out another woman’s name in Lily’s presence.

***

Matty stared up at the ceiling fan as it rotated, on low mode, and tried to catch his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell that Lily had approached him with a glass of water, but he hadn’t yet regain full control of his body again. He couldn’t will himself to move. She didn’t seem to mind, though. Happy to accommodate him, she sat on the bed next to him, arranging a wall of pillows to prop him on. “Can you sit up for me?”

The question, surprisingly, made him nervous. He snapped out of his ceiling-fan-induced hypnosis and quickly jolted, sitting up before she could lend him a hand.

“Yeah, yeah….thanks.” He accepted the glass of water, gulping it down. “Sorry.” He mumbled, leaning over her to set the now empty glass down onto the nightstand.

“What for?”

He shrugged. “Don’ know.”

“What’s going on with you?” Lily placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and it took everything in him not to brush it off.

“Nothin’s goin’ on. Just…tired. And- I— think I need a cig. And a glass of wine or something.”

She laughed, shaking her head and shuffling off the bed once more. “Coming right up. And then you’ll tell me what’s really going on cuz that wasn’t what I was asking about.”

***

“So…” Lily exhaled the smoke out of her lungs, putting the end of her cigarette out in the ashtray between them. “Let me get this straight…you’re in love with her, but she’s with someone else?”

Matty blushed, fiddling with the stem of his wine glass.

“She offered to break up with the guy. But you made friends with him. And now you like him too much. So you gave up your guitar — which was like the equivalent of half your soul— just so he can surprise her and take credit for the surprise?”

Matty took a large sip of his drink just to have something else to focus on.

“Oh, and also you guys are sleeping together because one time your dick didn’t work and you cried about it in front of her. Am I getting this right?”

Matty’s eyes evaded her, smiling in embarrassment, “that’s…the gist of it, yeah.”

“Okay, I’m glad I got it right cuz,” she picked up a pillow, throwing it at his face, narrowly missing her target, “what the fuck is wrong with you, dude?!!! Why are you even here? In my bed instead of hers??”

“Oh, so you want me to leave, then? Fine, I’ll leave.” Matty attempted to move but she instantly grabbed his arm.

“You’re not going anywhere….and what do your friends think about your genius behavior?”

“Who? the boys? Well…..they’ve all given different versions of, like, ‘you either tell her how you feel or you move on’ sort of.”

“And you’ve done neither.”

Matty nodded.

“Instead, you guys are sleeping together.”

Lily fell silent. She refilled her glass first, then she topped off Matty’s as well.

“I can see that you’re dying to say something.” He looked her straight in the eyes. “Out with it!”

“You’re just so dumb.” Lily smiled. “Men are so dumb. Speaking of men…..have you seen a doctor about your….’bedroom issues’ ?”

“Mhm”

“And?”

“Well, I haven’t called about test results. So, I don’t know.”

“Matty-“

“I know, I know….”

Matty’s heart raced, his face felt warm; he blamed it on the wine. Spoke again before he could stop himself. “It’s just….i think I know what they’re gonna say.”

“The results?”

“It’s all in my head. It’s…it’s stress or psychological or whatever the fuck.” He sighed. “I mean, not to be that guy, but look at me. I’m the picture of health. I got that shit under control for tour and stuff-“

“I have noticed the, shall we say, ‘fitness level’ ?”

“Lily, are you flirting with m-“

“No. Don’t- change the subject!”

Matty chuckled. “Not changin’ anything. I’m just- I know that it’s my state of mind. I haven’t been….well- I haven’t been myself.”

Lily snatched the wine glass out of his hand, setting both of their drinks, and the bottle, aside to get his full attention. “And what’re you gonna do about it?”

“I-“

“Besides ignoring it completely, I mean.”

Matty shrugged.

“Have you been to therapy? Have you….seen a psychiatrist?” She watched the look on his face. “Don’t! Don’t you roll your eyes at me. Don’t do that. That’s what guys do. It’s so childish!”

Matty had been determined to ignore her remarks until he heard the word ‘childish.’ Now, he was invested. “What the fuck do you mean ‘childish’? Just cuz I don’t need everything that’s ever made me an individual to be pathologized and medicated, doesn’t mean I’m being childish.”

Lily had had this conversation too many times before. She’d lost count of how many men get offended by their own flaws. She was over doing the gentle thing, holding their hand, and walking them through the thought process to help them come to the realization on their own. “Has it ever occurred to you that, oh- I don’t know- that maybe .your new show, your repressed love, all of the self punishment, and all that is just because you’d rather be dramatic and theatrical and do a huge arena tour than say how you feel?”

“You underestimate me, Lillian.”

“My name is Elizabeth.” She giggled.

“What?” Matty’s eyebrows shot up. “No fuckin way. ‘Lily’ is short for Elizabeth?”

“Yeah it’s mostly that I think ‘Elizabeth’makes me sound like a 76 year old widow.”

***

Amelia bit her lower lip smiling at Matty from across the room. He knew what that sly look meant.

“Come with me.” Giggling as she led them towards the storage room in the back of the venue.

Matty liked giving her complete control, doing as she says, being a mess at her feet. He relished in the opportunity.

“Whe-where would you like me this time?”

“Just stay standing.” Amelia surveyed the cramped room full of boxes for a moment, “you can lean against the wall if you need it this time.”

Reminding him of the last time that she’d sucked him off in the party bathroom, causing him to fall to his knees.

“Thank you.” He squeaked. He was already slipping into submission. Already pliant and malleable for her.

“Lose the clothes.” She demanded.

“A-all the way?”

“Yes. And hurry. Tobias will probably be looking for us soon.”

Matty stumbled as he kicked off his shoes, and rushed to peel his jeans off, aware of her eyes on him.

“Matty? Turn around for me, would you?”

His heart sank, dreading what was about to happen. Reluctantly, he did as she’d asked and turned all the way in a circle.

“These marks….they look fresh. What- when-“

“I- have to tell you something.” He pulled his pants back up, wincing as the fabric brushed his bum. “I- erm, I broke one of the rules.”

Amelia already knew where this was going. “Which one?”

“I- I had an orgasm- without your permission.” Matty looked down at the floor as he spoke. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, his mouth felt dry.

Amelia’s face remained unreadable. “When?”

“La- last night.�� He wished the earth under his feet could split and swallow him whole.

“Is that what those marks are from?”

He nodded slowly.

“They look pretty bad, have you looked after yourself? Disinfected the places with deeper cuts and-“

“No. I… I sort of, erm, stayed the night at her place and then came straight here. Haven’t had a chance to do anything.”

“She did this to you and then left you there? No aftercare?”

“No, no! Don’t say that! She’s not like that! She tried- but, erm, I wouldn’t let her.”

Amelia didn’t like the tightening in her chest that she felt as she listened to Matty defend another woman. She couldn’t quite figure out what she felt, but she had bigger, more important concerns at this moment.

“There’s a first aid kit in the tour bus bathroom, right?” Her face and tone unchanged, withholding.

Matty nodded.

“Let’s go then.”

***

Amelia gathered her supplies and set them on the bed in Matty’s tour bus bedroom. “Right then. Drop your pants and turn around.”

“I can do this myself, you know.”

“I didn’t ask. Turn around, Matty, c’mon.”

Not wanting to defy her any more than he already has, Matty complied. Amelia used her most delicate touch throughout. Slow and gentle, careful not to cause him any unnecessary pain, and pausing multiple times when she felt her hand falter. Matty pressed his lips together tightly, swallowing any and all whimpers or expressions of pain. He didn’t want her to feel bad. Not when she’s going out of her way to take care of him.

“Who is she?” Amelia heard herself ask.

“Just- ah! Shit…” he let out a groan as the antiseptic touched an open wound. “Just a friend I see whenever I’m in New York.”

“Do I know her?”

“N-no. She, erm….you two have never met.”

Amelia l withdrew for a moment as a sharp sting of jealousy washed over her. She didn’t know what she was most upset by, the fact that he slept with another woman, the fact that he’d let another woman hurt him — given her control

Over his body, trusting her to do what he needed— or the fact that she’d made him cum and got to see his beautiful, vulnerable body experiencing pleasure. Amelia was well aware that she had no right to be upset here. After all, she has a boyfriend. It wouldn’t be fair to expect Matty not to date or see anyone else while she carried on with her life. Still, she felt an unsettling ownership over him. And, she was now learning that she did not like to share.

She resumed her disinfecting, accidentally heavy-handedly, and saw Matty’s whole body flinch, a whimper of pain escaped him despite his best efforts to remain quiet.

“S-sorry.” He mumbled.

To his surprise, Amelia ran a gentle hand down his leg, attempting to comfort him.

“I know it hurts. It’s okay. Promise we’re almost done, alright?”

“Thank you.”

She smiled “let me know if you need me to stop, yeah? We can take a little break if you need it.”

Her words brought tears to his eyes.

“You’re mad at me.” Matty simply stated. “You’re mad at me. I broke the rules and you’re upset with me.”

He heard her unpack the bandages in silence.

“I’m gonna be punished for this, right?” He asked when she wouldn’t speak.

“I don’t know yet.” She pulled his clothes back on for him, delicately, making sure the waistband doesn’t come into contact with any of his sensitive injuries along the way.

“Amelia, I’m so sorry. I- I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Done what? Sleep with someone else? Why not? I do it!” She turned away from him, contemplating leaving the bus.

“Should’ve at least told you. Or asked you for permission. I- I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

She couldn’t bring herself to walk out on him. She sighed, turning back around. “I don’t wanna talk about this right now. Let me decide on my own. Now, since you didn’t get any aftercare, are you feeling okay? Do you need anything? If you’re experiencing any sub-“

“I’m okay. I promise. I’m perfectly fine. And I’m so sorry.”

Amelia stood there, frustrated, her head spinning, not quite knowing how to feel, or how she should feel.

“Would it - be okay if I hugged you?” Matty asked, his eyes pleading with her.

He took the small smile on her face as a yes and rushed to cling to her.

“You’re just so…” she felt speechless, wrapping her arms around him.

“I know, I know. I’m the fuckin worst.”

***

Several days, and tour stops, went by without Matty and Amelia crossing paths. She still attended every show, watching him come to life onstage every night to perform for his audience. Often getting caught in a moment with someone in the crowd, crying or laughing with them. Always, without fail, having the boys behind him. Even on his worst days, Matty always gave his job everything that he could. That much was guaranteed. It was off-stage Matty that troubled her. And troubled him. So, while they both did their jobs, attended meetings, carried on with business as usual, she hadn’t found herself knocking at his door late at night in quite some time.

Matty laid in bed late at night, still waiting, hoping tonight would be the night that she’d come back to him. As more and more nights went by with his hopes still unfulfilled, he would fall asleep thinking about Lily’s suggestion —or accusation, really — that he wasn’t channeling or processing his feelings with work, but repressing them. He wondered if his night with Lily fell into the same category. He wondered why he’d even gone over there at all. He would give anything to undo it. To have Amelia back in his bed.

Struggling to fall asleep, he decided to go down to the hotel lobby, get a drink, and if his brain was still functioning, perhaps do some work. He grabbed his leather jacket out of the closet on his way out, patting his pockets to check that he had his room card and cigarettes before leaving. When Matty opened the door, he found Amelia, standing there, looking up at him.

“Amelia!” He could burst with joy. “You’re here!”

She looked behind her, to make sure nobody could see them, then rushed into his room.

“Amelia, I- I have wanted to apologize, but I just can’t find the words to-“

She placed a finger to his lips, silencing him.

“I didn’t come here to talk, I came here so you’d get me off, so shut up and get on your knees.”

Matty wasn’t sure if that meant that she’d forgiven him or not, but he wasted no time in doing as he told. Eager to please her, and to show, if not tell, her how sorry he is.

***

A content Amelia reached between her thighs, grabbing Matty by the roots of his hair and pulling his head back, away from her cunt. She was still slightly out of breath from the orgasm that his mouth had given her and she enjoyed seeing his lips and chin glisten too.

“Look at me.” She commanded.

Matty’s eyes instantly met hers, his gaze unsure, humble.

“There’s my good whore.” She smiled, “it’s what you are, isn’t it? A whore? That’s what they call someone who’s happy to be spanked with his own built by just about anybody. Isn’t that right?”

Matty panicked, his thoughts racing. No! That’s not right! It’s much more complicated than that. Besides, it’s not like it was all the same to him. What he feels with her is different. Much more intimate. With Lilly, it was just sex. An attempt to prove to himself and his body that he could still feel it with other people. He learned the opposite of what he’d hoped to learn from sleeping with someone else. But he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to defend himself. Besides, she said she wasn’t interested in discussing this, and he didn’t want to risk her leaving again.

“Y-yeah. I am a whore.” It pained him to say. “Your whore.”

She let go of his hair, but he stayed in place.

“Oh don’t play that game with me, Matty.” She scuffed. “I bet you say that to all the women who force you to submit to them.”

Briefly, he considered prostrating himself on the floor and begging her to believe him. To accept his apology. But before he could throw himself on the floor, she’d reached into his underwear and pulled out his half-hardened cock.

He gasped, feeling her wrap her hand around his length, and squeeze, ever so slightly. His eyes fluttered shut, his jaw slack.

Amelia leaned forward and spat, using her own saliva as lube, she quickened her pace, pleased to see his arousal grow.

“Tell me something, Matty.” She spoke, still stroking him. “Did she jerk you off too? Hmm?”

“Wha-what?” His eyes shot open.

“The girl you slept with. You let her take control; what else did you give her? Did she suck you off? Did she fuck you? Did you fuck her?”

Matty struggled to remain focused, his self control was all dedicated to not cuming before she allowed him to. “What- no, no. I - promise- none of that….fuck, Amelia, you’re gonna make me— I didn’t— she didn’t. No fucking… nothing happened… ah, darling, please believe me- fuckkk I’m so close!”

“Somehow, I find that hard to believe.”

“I- promise… Amelia. Please, Angel, may I come?”

“No.”

“I- promise. No matter what. No- ohhh shit- matter…who I’m with or not….you call and I’ll come runnin.’ You’ve got me. You- please!!!- can have me whenever you want.”

“You wanna cum?”

“So, so bad. Please darling may I?”

“Go for it.” Amelia instantly took her hand away, leaving him with a ruined orgasm.

She left him to writhe on the floor, listening to him cry out and beg, as she got dressed. “That’s for cumming without my permission.”

Barely coherent, Matty nodded. “Thank- you, for my punishment.” His legs still twitching.

“Oh, you think that was the end of your punishment? Sweet boy; I’ve barely started.”

As she made her way out of his room, Amelia wondered if what she’d done crossed a line. Was she hurting him with malice? Laying hands on him in anger? He always told her that was the basic rule of dominance and submission. You never do it out of aggression. She wasn’t entirely sure if what she’d put him through was for his sake or out of jealousy. Deep down, a piece of her was still upset with him for sleeping with someone else. She hated that.

***

Amelia pushed him into the supply closet, wasting no time in crashing her lips against his.

“You heard back from the doctors yet?”

He shook his head.

“Cuz you’re already hard for me. You’re an anomaly.”

Matty chuckled. “fuckin tell me about it.”

His eyes shot wide open, his lips stifling a gasp as he felt her hand wrap around the base of his cock. “Remind me again what we’re doing?”

“Puh- pun- punishment. For me.” He managed between pants.

“And why is that?” She changed up the rhythm, grinning when the surprise made him jolt.

“Cuz- I- didn’t- i broke the rules. Let myself have an orgasm without your permission.”

Matty felt his knees begin to buckle. He pushed his head back, leaning against the wall for support. Amelia thought the look of his throat slightly bobbing as he swallowed harshly was the most mesmerizing thing she’d ever seen.

“That’s right.” She snapped out of her hypnotic state “you get edged. Everyday. And you have no idea when I’m going to let you cum. All you can do is beg. While you take it.”

“Please, darling, I- may I cum?” His droopy eyes struggled to remain fixed on her, but he tried his best, he wanted her to see the need in his eyes and to know that he was being genuine when he said that he really, really needed it.

Amelia’s free hand tugged on his balls, slightly, the sudden sensation making him moan and lurch forward. “Fuuuckk!!”

Matty’s knees buckled, he crumbled to the floor, but, rather than give him a break, Amelia simply crouched down in front of him, continuing to edge him. She circled his pre-cum covered tip, admiring the way that his hips bucked desperately.

“Please- please, please, my love. I- need it, Amelia- I’m so, so close…”

She smiled to herself. She knew he was desperate, but enough to pull out ‘my love?’ He was so adorable when he relinquished control.

“You better hold it. You understand?” She changed up her rhythm.

“Ahhh! Fuck!” He cried out. “I- I will, I’m trying.”

“Hush! You’re being too loud. We’re gonna get caught.” She wrapped her hand around his neck, tightening her grip in an attempt to silence him, it was the last push that Matty needed to get him over the edge.

He panicked, trying desperately to warn her, but his voice only a mere squeal as she choked him, he thrashed helplessly, using every ounce of self restraint left in his exhausted and overstimulated body to keep from cumming. Luckily, Amelia had learned his body’s cues well enough by now. She knew he’d reached his peak and she let go before he could lose control loosening her hold on his throat as well.

His rock- hard cock twitched against his stomach, the blood rushing through his veins, his entire body felt sensitive, from head to toe, the pain of a ruined orgasm almost unbearable. He mewled softly, his naked thighs trembling, tears welling his eyes.

“Awww, Matty.” Amelia couldn’t fight the urge to comfort him, feeling a bit too guilty for denying him yet another release. Her hand cupped his face. She was a bit worried when he flinched.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Matty nodded. Unable to speak. Still fighting for breath.

She settled next to him on the floor. Pulling him into her side, her arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“You good?” She asked once his breathing had finally evened out.

“Yeah.” He smiled, tiredly.

“Was that….too much?”

Matty shook his head.

“I didn’t wanna go too hard on you. Cuz we’ve got to get back to work soon. We can’t have you being a mess right now…but, your eyes- you look a bit gone.”

Matty’s body shook against hers as he laughed silently. “It’s just what human eyes look like at arousal. I’m fine.”

“Let’s get you dressed.” She mumbled, reaching for his clothes and helping to button up his shirt over his chest.

Matty’s clammy hands struggled with the waistband of his briefs.

“I’ve got it, it’s okay. I’ll hold it for you.” She lent him a hand. “Got your shoes? Good. Let’s go.”

“Think I just need a minute. You go. I’ll be right behind you in a bit.” He smiled up at her hugging his knees.

“What? No. I’ll wait with you.”

“I’m okay, Amelia. I promise. I just need a minute to come down and collect myself.”

“Well.” She sat back down by his side. “Take your time. I’ll just keep you company.” He took his hand in hers, squeezing it and laying it in her lap.

“You’re a menace, you know that?” He kissed her cheek.

They sat in silence for a moment. Matty soon felt impatient and pulled out his phone.

“Memes already?” Amelia shook her head, “you’re the most unserious man I’ve ever met.”

“I- just- need something to distract me while I come down from all of this” he gestured, loosely, towards the marks she’d left all over his body. “You know I can’t sit still.”

She smiled and leaned in to kiss his cheek. His skin was hot, red, and he was still shaky.

“Wanna see some funny stuff?” He moved the screen to be in between them.

“Okay, but no minions. Only YOU find those funny.”

As they scrolled through, alternating between Twitter and Instagram, and giggling, they slowly found themselves stumbling over the wrong side of the internet. First, it was,

Matty Healy is ugly, racist, sexist, oh and did I mention ugly?

Then,

Matty Healy needs to stop speaking over marginalized people with his white guy “trying to help” energy. It’s giving colonialism.

Amelia rolled her eyes, interfering to scroll past, when Matty had paused to check the reply thread. But, soon enough, they stumbled upon,

The drugs that mh used to be on must have melted his brain cuz wtf is this?

“I suppose that’s enough screen time.” Matty chuckled, setting the phone down in his lap.

“Matty…”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“You’re not. And that’s okay-“

“I don’t care. Whatever.”

Amelia looked down at his lap, the phone screen getting progressively dimmer. She grinned when a thought crossed her mind and picked up his phone.

“Amelia?”

Matty watched her thumbs move as she tapped the keyboard, seemingly typing something.

Matty Healy is ugly, racist, sexist, oh and did I mention ugly?

I’d make like your receding hairline and back away if I were you. You’re in no position to speak.

She smiled, satisfied, and scrolled on.

Matty Healy needs to stop speaking over marginalized people with his white you trying to help energy. It’s giving colonialism.

At least he’s helping. What’re YOU doing? Besides being an idiot on the internet, I mean.

“Jesus Christ, Amelia!” Matty attempted to claw the phone out of her grip, but she simply scooted away. “Amelia; stop!”

“What? This is a burner account right?”

“Yeah, but that’s not the point!”

She wasn’t paying attention long enough for him to make his point, she’d gone back to typing.

Here, I’ve linked the definition of colonialism for you. Maybe your Twitter brain rot will actually teach you a new word today!

The drugs that mh used to be on must have melted his brain cuz wtf is this?

Using someone’s addiction against them? Not very woke activist progressive brave of you, is it? He could outsmart you in his sleep, btw. Don’t worry about his brain. Worry about yours.

“Alright that’s enough clapping back for you, give me that phone.”

“But I’m having fun!”

It occurred to Matty that he’s much stronger, and larger, than she is. So he hovered over her, doing his best to appear intimidating. But looking into her eyes always made him weak.

“Give me that phone, Amelia.”

“Make me.”

“Alright, but you’re gonna be sorry you asked for it.”

***

Their rendezvous continued for a few more weeks. They found themselves fallen into a routine. One suggestive look, or nod, was enough to signal that it’s time to surreptitiously leave, and meet someplace private. There wasn’t a position of surface that Amelia hadn’t tried to bend Matty over, or prop him on. He was never allowed to touch. Neither himself nor her as she worked him up, bringing him to the brink of an orgasm, only to pull away when he most needed her. She’d sucked him off on her knees, taken to riding him to get herself off, and on one occasion, even tried a vibrator on the tip of his cock to keep him stimulated while tied up.

It seemed to work. At least as long as she watched him cry and beg for her, she felt certain that she had a hold on him. That she could prove it to herself. Not only that, but Matty was making progress on most days. He still had his setbacks and moments of frustration. And he would get punished for those, firmly. But he did his best to remain on track. Getting back to his routines and even attempting to eat properly. So, for all intents and purposes, this system of theirs, seemed to serve its purpose. That is, until, backstage in his dressing room, Amelia had accidentally pushed him too far.

Matty looked down at his own lap, pent up frustration bubbling within his chest. He felt his eyes sting with tears, his hazy brain, already struggling to find its bearings, began to spin. He sat back down on the couch that he and Amelia had just been lying on, his warm, naked body sticking to the leather.

“I- made a mess.” He announced, his voice filled with emotion. “I- swear I didn’t feel good. Really! But I- I couldn’t stop fast enough” He felt ridiculous for tearing up. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Amelia turned around, concerned, not so much by what he said, but by how he’d sounded when he said it.

“Oh.” Amelia smiled, at the sight of cum dripping down his stiff dick. “Did you spill over a little bit.” She giggled.

Matty nodded, frowning.

“It’s alright. We’ll get you cleaned up. There’s a shower at the end of the hall, yeah?”

Matty didn’t seem to be listening. “I- promise I felt nothing. It didn’t feel good or anything- I still hurt. I promise. Really. Honest!”

To demonstrate how obvious it was, Amelia swiped her finger over his tip, watching him wince and shudder . “Yeah, I see that.”

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay Matty. It was an accident. And it doesn’t count as a real orgasm, you didn’t get any pleasure or release out of it, so.”

When she glanced at him and saw his face, her attitude changed. “Oh, babe. You’re really upset about this, aren’t you?”

“Sorry. It’s really dumb. I just- I wanna be good. I wanna do as you tell me to.”

“You are, Matty! You’re so good. You take your punishment really well. It’s been - well, weeks. I mean, when’s the last time that you were edged like that without an orgasm at all?”

“N-never.”

“Exactly. Frankly, I’m impressed you’ve lasted this long. I haven’t exactly made it easy on you. You get what I’m saying?” She smiled at him but she could tell that he wasn’t persuaded. “Okay, why dont we wait a bit. You’ll take some deep breaths. calm down. Then we’ll go take a shower, yeah?”

Though Amelia had done and said everything to comfort him, Matty still had a nagging feeling in the back of his head that he’d fucked up. He’d nearly lost control, a difference of seconds could’ve made him a failure. His entire body felt out of control. He couldn’t get a grip all day. And it was obvious. To Amelia, at least. He wasn’t his usual, adrenalin-fueled ball of energy when working, he wasn’t making as many jokes or engaged in conversation. He moved slower, stumbled over his words more, and seemed anxious and afraid of everything.

Doing her best not to draw any attention to this change in his demeanor, Amelia tried all the subtle ways that she could think of comforting him. She remained close by, throughout the day, sitting next to him whenever possible, resting a hand on his back, bringing him food and water to make sure he wasn’t skipping any meals. She wasn’t sure if Matty had registered her attempts or understood that they were meant to reassure him, but she did it as much for her own peace of mind as for his. She hated knowing that he was disoriented and struggling. She hated knowing that it was because of something she had done to him. She couldn’t stand the fact that she’s unable to give him a hug or hold his hand right then and there without it being a major concern to everyone in the room.

So, if she couldn’t wrap her arms around him protectively and kiss all over his face, whisper reassurances into his ear, and let him know that he’s alright, she was going to settle for checking in with him throughout the day, bringing him food, refilling his water, placing a gentle hand over his arm whenever she noticed him retreating into his own head. Nobody seemed to notice the shift in her behavior, or if they did, nobody made it known. Except for Joshua.

“Is Matty okay?” He’d asked as soon as they were alone.

“What? Yeah…he’s- he’s fine. Just going through some stuff.”

Joshua made a vague humming sound that acknowledged her response as his eyebrows crossed. “He’s a good guy. Hope he feels better soon.” He held the door open for Amelia to walk through.

“Yeah…”

“Anyway, there’s a restaurant that Jamie told me about. Think we should try it while we’re in town. Wanna go out for dinner tonight?”

Amelia hated herself for what she was about to say. She hated doing this. But how could she not? “I- uhhh…can’t tonight. I think I’m gonna spend the night across the hall at Matty’s-“

“Again?!”

“I’m sorry! I know. We’ve hardly had alone time this week. But…I’m worried about him. I don’t think he should be alone right now.”

Joshua’s face dropped. “Can’t one of the boys hang out with him for a few hours?”

“I promised him that I would.” She lied.

“Right….” Joshua nodded. He took a long moment to accept his fate. “Alright then. Some other time maybe.”

Amelia felt awful letting him down. But she’d found herself in a position where she would inevitably let someone down, no matter who she chose. She reached for his hand. “I’m so sorry, Joshua. Maybe you could still go? Like with someone else?”

Joshua thought about it for a moment. “George mentioned being interested.”

“Great! I’m sure he’d love to go with you!”

He forced himself to soften and put on a smile, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah George is a cool dude. It’d be a good time.”

“Great, so, you’ll go?”

“I’ll go. With George.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek.

Watching him walk away, Amelia felt a knot in her stomach. What had she done?

***

“Are you going to punish me?” Matty asked, as soon as they sat on the bed.

“Punish you ? What for?”

He shifted in his place. “Well- earlier- I…”

“You didn’t break any rules, Matty. It was an accident. You get that, right?”

He nodded but rather than looking relieved, he seemed disappointed.

“Matty, look at me. What is it? What’re you thinking right now?”

“It’s just- I know it was an accident. But…it wasn’t perfect. I wasn’t perfect. And….this whole thing is supposed to be punishment for- when I fucked up and slept with someone else.”

Amelia reached an arm out, “come here for a second. Listen, remember what we said about rewards and punishments? How they’re meant to motivate you to steer away from certain things and towards others?”

He nodded

“Well, in addition to just being fun.” She winked, jokingly. “That’s why these rules only apply to things and behaviors that you can control. An accident is unintentional. You didn’t mean to. And you couldn’t have stopped it. Your body reacted reflexively. What would be the point of punishing you for that?”

Matty smiled, as a few stray tears rolled down his eyes. “Fuck. This is so silly. Why am I crying?” He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“It’s not silly. It’s okay.” Amelia held his face in her hand, pulling him to her chest. “Matty, I think…I mean, I have to ask if these aren’t subdrop symptoms? You’ve been a bit off all day.”

Matty shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe. Could be.”

She kissed his head, slowly separating between their bodies so she could get off the bed. “Well, then, you stay there and relax. Let me take care of you.”

“You’ve been taking care of me all day-“

“So? I’ll do it all night, too.”

Her smile melted his heart. If he was being real, in one form or another, Amelia has been taking care of him for weeks. And the effort wasn’t lost on him. His gratitude was impossible to put into words. He really wanted to get better. If not for himself, then for her. So she didn’t have to feel like her support was in vain.

When Amelia jumped back on the bed, she’d brought her box of recently purchased sex toys with her, and matty felt a shiver run down his spine at the realization. What on earth was she planning to do to him tonight? The look in his eyes made her giggle. They both knew they were in for a ride.

“Gonna undress you now, okay?”

“More than okay.” He grinned.

***

“Matty?” Amelia called out his name when she felt that he was zoning out. “Have you had enough? It’s been a while. We can stop if you’re done.”

Matty shook his head. “No, no. I’m okay. Sorry I’ve gone quiet. I’m alright, though.”

She looked down at the hickeys and love bites that she’d left all over him, surveying her handiwork.

“For this next bit, you won’t be quiet, I promise you.” Her smile was almost menacing. “But first, open your mouth for me.”

Matty obeyed instantly.

“You know what to do,” she stuck her fingers into his open mouth. “Suck. Like your life depends on it. Cuz that’s the only lube you’ll be getting.”

Matty’s eyes widened as he fervently sucked on her fingers, hollowing his cheeks, gagging, tears running down his throat, and drool down his chin.

“Alright that’s it. Good enough.”

Amelia paused, admiring how beautiful he looked with his face flushed, his lips wet and pink, panting for breath.

“You did good, Matty.” She said.

Matty smiled, shyly looking away. But she could tell that he reveled in her compliment. It was kind of odd but extremely endearing to her that she could say the filthiest things to him and he wouldn’t bat an eye, but a simple word of praise flustered him endlessly. He always seemed surprised to find out that she was happy with him. It almost broke her heart.

“Ready?”

He nodded.

“You can tap out at any time, you know that, right?”

“Mhm. I- I do. Can you…erm, hold my hand? Please?”

she never knew why that was so important to him, something he asks for frequently, and often did with her even when he was the one in control. But she never questioned it. “Yeah, sure.”

She used her wet fingers to tease his hole, listening to him gasp and moan as he made a deliberate effort to stay relaxed. His hand squeezed hers when he felt her first finger slowly push its tip into him.

“Ohh fuck!” He cried out. His eyes falling shut.

“Feel okay?”

“Mhm, yeah, yeah.” He nodded enthusiastically. “Just…tight. It’s been a minute.” Blushing at his own words.

“I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

Matty seemed to grow more comfortable as she went on, slowly and cautiously pushing deeper into it him.

“Never done this on my- ohh Christ!- on my back. Before- fuckin hellll.” He whined. “F- feels- uhh…intense.”

“You wanna change positions?”

He was tempted to say yes, eager to hide his face away or get on all fours. But feeling vulnerable and exposed like this was new. He wanted to challenge himself. To take this step with her. “No, I- think I’m okay.”

“Sounds like you’re ready for a second finger.”

Matty whimpered, feeling his stiff cock twitch, his words getting caught in his throat, chest growing tight. “Oh, A- Amelia…that-“

“I love when you say my name like that.”

“I love- you- r name.”

She giggled. “Matty, honey, I don’t think you know what you’re saying at this point.”

Once satisfied that his body had adjusted,she abruptly pulled her fingers out of his asshole.

“N-no! That’s - I- why?” He complained.

“You’re so greedy, gosh.” She swatted at his chest lightly. “Because I’ve got this,” reaching over into the box and pulling out. Strap-on.

“Oh fuck.” Matty simply let out.

“As much as I would relish seeing you suck dick, I’m kind of excited to rail you until you break. So, maybe next time.” She squirted a generous glop of lube onto the toy, coating it evenly.

Matty was quickly rendered a crying, moaning, mess. Not that Amelia was bothered by it. She’d momentarily lost herself, admiring the way that he clenched around the artificial cock, the way that the you stretched him out, the way that his entire body responded to that pressure, his legs shaking, his cock bubbling with pre-cum. She slid in and out of him, listening for the beautiful sounds that came from his lips every time.

She knelt down, placing a soft kiss to his hip tattoo before holding on to both of his hips for more control and speeding up her pace.

Matty cried louder, his moans, and attempted thanks punctuated by her thrusts.

“Look at me, baby.” Amelia chuckled. He couldn’t hear her over his own voice. “Eyes on me, sweet boy.” Despite her attempts, matty seemed completely unaware of her commands. She just wanted to make sure he wasn’t too overwhelmed but she let him be.

She began to thrust harder, watching as a fresh wave of tears ran down his face. She had no idea that side of her existed, but now that it was out there, she was having a lot of fun. “Go ahead and touch yourself, Matty.” She said once his voice had disappeared from screaming.

“Really?” He attempted to speak, his throat hoarse.

“Yeah. No waiting; no pain tonight. Just pleasure.”

“You really mean that?”

She laughed. “You deserve to feel good, Matty. Go on, darling.”

Amelia watched his hand shake and slip a few times as she pushed into him forcefully. “You want me to get you off?” She offered.

“Y- yes please? Your hand feels better.”

“Flatterer.”

It didn’t take much to get him over the edge. After all, he’d been there all week.

“I can cum? Right now?”

“Cum for me.”

She watched his eyes roll to the back of his head, his entire body trembling harshly as he let go, his release strong and all-consuming. He’d attempted to thank her, but his words soon slurred, and all she heard, was a long, guttural moan.

She slowly pulled out of him, his still-quivering body ached. She heard him wince.

“Matty, love, could you turn on your side for me?”

She helped him lay on his right side before surprising him by thrusting back in. He hadn’t yet recovered from his orgasm, but he held his breath as she slid in.

“M-more?”

“Yeah. Think I’ll keep going. If you can take more.”

“I- I’ll - take whatever you want to do to me.”

“That’s sweet, baby. You’re being so good. But I’m trying to ask if you wanna stop.”

“Want whatever you want.”

She took his hand in hers, bringing it to her lips to kiss his knuckles. “You’re so beautiful.” She smiled gently. “anyway, the reason that I had you flip on your side is because I wanted to see if I could get this angle right. Let me try something.” She adjusted her hips, thrusting hard. A primal scream echoed from him. She’d found the right spot.

“Oh my godddd. Please don’t stop. Yeah, yeah, that’s it. Please, please, please…”

“What’re you begging for, baby?”

“Ohhh….i- I don’t knowww….”

She pushed the phallic toy all the way into his hole, and watched his body spasm around it.

“Sooo. Fuckin. Deep. Ohhhh. Fuckkkk.”

Matty’s toes curled.

“Wanna cum again?”

“Yeah. Yeah please can I?”

“Yeah, let go. Do it.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank youuuu.”

Matty writhed against the bed once more, his neck straining as his back arched off the mattress. He panted and strangled his own screams, but Amelia pounded harder into him, not letting up.

“Gonna go for a third.” She simply stated.

No longer able to speak, let alone protest, Matty simply nodded, before closing his eyes.

“Stay with me, Matty. You’re slipping.”

When he didn’t respond, she slapped his face lightly. “Matty, c’mon. Open those beautiful eyes, let me see you.”

He blinked up at her, slowly, and she knew he was barely present. His head too full of pleasure to process anything.

“Ride me. Go ahead and move your body. Cmon.”

after a longer response time than usual, matty mumbled “can’t. Too tired.”

“Do it, Matty. Cmon.”unwilling to deny her anything, he moved his hips slowly, with considerable difficulty. “Can’t. Too sore.”

“It’s okay, honey. It’s okay.” Was the last thing he heard her say before he blacked out. He felt her push his knees into his chest, allowing her to thrust deeper, his entire body shook as she hit him exactly where he needed most. He attempted a half-hearted beg, but she understood anyway, and gave him permission to cum. The pleasure so good, so strong, that his mind went blank, his body acting on pure instinct. Not a thought in his mind, not a word on his lips, he laid there, shaking, heavy limbed, tears down his cheeks.

Amelia spoke softly, despite the fact that she was certain he wasn’t listening. She talked him through her movements like he so often did with her. “Gonna pull out now.” And when he whimpered in discomfort, she rubbed his legs. “I know, sorry, my love.”

Moments later, she sat next to him. “Gonna just…wipe you clean, okay? Just for now. We’ll get you in the shower soon, yeah?” She moved his body around in various ways to clean him up, and he made no effort to intervene or stop her. It was eerie, a bit concerning, and she would’ve assumed that he was unconscious, if it weren’t for the way that his weak hands attempted to hold hers when she brought a blanket over to cover him with. He was wordlessly asking for a cuddle. And who is she to deny him?

Amelia laid down behind Matty, wrapping her arms around him and pushing their bodies together so his back was right against her chest. Her hands resting on his bare stomach, she would occasionally stroke that skin, or gently scratch it, trying to make sure he feels something physical to ground him.

“Matty, are you with me?”

She felt his hand squeeze hers.

“Good. You’re good, baby. Did so well. I’m glad we did this.” After a moments pause, she spoke again. “Did you feel good?”

He squeezed her hand again.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes. My love, I know that you must be so out of it right now, but I need you to rally, okay? We gotta feed you and maybe take a shower.”

Despite her preemptive words, they remained in bed for a long time. Matty’s tears kept pouring out of him, Amelia held him tighter. He didn’t seem to be able to speak, or perhaps he had nothing to say, so she tried to do the talking for him. Out of helplessness, not knowing how best to comfort him, and out of worry, that she might have hurt him in some way.

“Tonight was a lot, yeah? Three orgasms after being pent up for so long? That had to have been overwhelming.” She whispered. “But you took it so well. Know it must have been difficult. Thank you for putting yourself through that. For me. You were so good. ” She paused, her hand moved to stroke the length of his arm. “You like giving up control, don’t you? But you struggle to do it. It’s cuz you’re in your head all the time.” She kissed his shoulder. “I get it. It’s what makes you so special. But it must be exhausting. You gotta give yourself a break sometimes. And I appreciate that you do that with me. Really. I do. Don’t think that I take this lightly. I don’t. Means a lot to me.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “Just hate that this is the only way you allow yourself some release. I wish you’d be nicer to yourself.”

She felt him wriggle in her arms, slowly, and clumsily, he turned around to face her, resting his head on her chest. He mumbled a broken, hardly audible, “thank you.” With a strained voice.

“Gosh you’re making it so difficult to get up. We can’t fall asleep…”

Matty did, of course, fall asleep. He couldn’t help it. His body was drained, all out of energy, his mind had slowed to a complete halt for the first time since tour had started, he couldn’t feel his legs and he had no voice to speak. Amelia held on to him for a while, still playing with his hair, watching him sleep soundly, feeling his chest rise and fall as he breathed. It was the most peaceful he’d looked in a long time. But she had to get them both up eventually.

She peeled herself away from him, rummaging through the suite to sort all the necessities. Once she was satisfied that everything was prepared for them, she crawled back into bed next to him, kissing him awake.

“Matty, darling, wake up.” She kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry, baby, I know this is not what you want right now, but you’re gonna have a really hard time tomorrow if we don’t do this now. Don’t want you to drop and struggle all day, yeah?”

Matty’s eyes fluttered slowly, opening slightly. “Yeah.” He smiled.

She helped him sit up then handed him a glass of water and a bottle of his protein shakes that he always had on hand. “Need you to work on those okay?”

“What about you, Amelia?”

The fact that he was asking about her meant that he was slowly coming back into himself.

“I- I’m…I’ll eat later. Don’t worry about me right now.”

“We’ll share?” He offered. The gesture made her feel warm and fuzzy.

***

Steaming hot water ran down his back like a waterfall. Amelia had decided that he was too out of it to wash his own hair, so she’d hopped in the shower with him, running her fingers through his hair and lathering it with shampoo. Matty could hardly stop giggling and smiling the whole time. Especially whenever she took small breaks from washing him to leave small kisses all over his head and body.

Matty turned around, kissing her lips as steam filled their lungs and fogged up the bathroom around them.

“Thank you.” He whispered into her mouth any time that they broke, briefly, for some air.

“What do you keep thanking me for?” She laughed.

“For….just being you.”

***

Amelia placed a gentle kiss to his forehead as he slept, before tiptoeing out of the room the next morning. Even as she made her way back to her own room, she was already daydreaming about what they would do tonight, once she could come by his room again, after their long day of work.

At the other end of the hall, her boyfriend awaited. “Hi Joshua-“

“When were you going to tell me that you and Matty have slept together?” He asked, sprinting to his feet as soon as she walked in.

Amelia felt the blood run cold in her face. How did he find out? Had he seen them together somehow? They’ve been very careful. Made sure he was nowhere near them whenever they would sneak off. Perhaps not as careful as she’d thought.

“W- wha-what?” She babbled.

“I mean, I know it was before we met but I befriended the guy! Don’t you think I had a right to know?”

Amelia snapped out of her terrified daze. He doesn’t know. They have been careful. Everything’s fine. “Who told you?”

“George did. At dinner.”

“Damn you George Daniel!”

“No, no. Don’t be mad at him. He thought I already knew. He wasn’t telling on you.”

Amelia smiled, nervously, looking into his kind eyes. “Well, I- I’m sorry, Joshua. I didn’t know how to bring it up, and….you seemed to like Matty and I didn’t want to ruin that- didn’t want you to think about me and him….any time that you spoke to him.” She sighed, realizing that she’d run out of breath.

Joshua said nothing. He looked down at his girlfriend, who’d walked to sit on the end of the bed, her head held down in shame.

“Are you mad?” She asked when he wouldn’t speak.

“I- don’t know- I mean, you lied to me, Amelia. I asked you if you guys ever dated….you said almost.”

“No! No, I didn’t lie! We’ve never dated, I promise. It was just sex…I know that sounds a bit weird, but we have never been like ‘in a relationship.’”

Joshua hummed, taking in her words, studying her face. She looked genuine, she looked sorry. Like she was telling the truth.

“I guess…in a way….maybe I’m glad I just found out. Cuz, you’re right. I like Matty and…I probably wouldn’t have if you’d let me know from the start.” He forced a deliberate smile, attempting to dissolve the tension.

“So- you’re…not upset?”

“I mean…a bit disappointed but-“

“I’m so sorry!!”

“But not upset, no.”

“Do you…like…do you wanna know anything? I mean, there’s not much to know. Like I said…we weren’t dating or anything….mostly fucking.”

“ I think the less I know about that the better. For all involved.”

“So- we’re done talking about this?”

“Mhm. Unless you wanna say something?”

****

Amelia pushed the breakfast around her plate as her thoughts spun and weaved. Why did she feel a strange sense of freedom, for a small moment, when she thought Joshua had found out about her and Matty, when she pictured breaking up with him, she felt relieved. Was she a terrible person for feeling that way? Should she lean into it? Surely Joshua deserves to be with someone who doesn’t feel freed by the potential of losing him?

With considerable effort, she lifted her gaze up towards Joshua, looking him in the eyes. “Umm…Joshua?”

“Yeah?”

“I have to tell you something. There’s- we need to talk….”

He sighed, loudly, setting down his fork. “We’re breaking up aren’t we?”

***

Matty looked through the peephole to see Amelia waiting to be let in. He unlocked the door quickly, delighted by her early visit. Amelia, on the other hand, was too angry for pleasantries.

“Can I ask you something?” She tapped her foot, crossing her arms over her chest.

“‘Course.” Matty frowned, unsure of what he was about to face.

“What happened to your Fender Mustang?”

#matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut

66 notes · View notes

sillygoofes · 2 months

Note

HI HELLO!! Ummm If ur comfy with drawing Eddsworld rarepairs, could u draw 2trenchcoat? /nf!! I love ur art style and I would like to see them in It!

If ur going to do my request, pls don't add horns to 2004 Tord and also please don't draw them as teenagers cuz that hc makes me uncomfortable <//3 but It's okay If u wanna decline this bc of It! IT'S UNDERSTANDABLE no worries :]

Anyway, I hope ur having a nice day! (Or night idk)

helloo so sorry this is late , i've been in a stump ! i hope this is good X,) i have never drawn these two !

#eddsworld

31 notes · View notes

cocosplaydate · 1 month

Text

Sick day

- little!matt x cg!nick x cg!chris

Chris and nick were sat on the couch, they were planning for the next vid, when Matt walked into the living room, his blanket pulled over his shoulders.

He walked towards his brothers , standing i front if the two men, both brothers looked up to see a disheveled looking Matt who’s hair was messy, under eyes was dark and the tip of his nose was red. He looked rough to say the least.

“Dada I sick” he whined sniffling. “Aww buddy” Nick hummed sympathetically. “You want a hug?” Chris suggest, Matt nodded and clambered into his lap, Chris immediately wrapping his arms around the boy in his lap. “Daddy I don’t like being sick” he complained, “I know buddy it sucks don’t it?” Chris answered.

After a while of cuddles, matts tummy began to rumble. “You hungry bud?” Nick asked looking up from his phone, Matt shook his head but the noise of his stomach betrayed him. “I know your sick bud, but you still have to eat” nick explained “but me gonna frow it up” he whined. “I know bud but your not gonna get better if you don’t eat” Chris placed his hand on matts head to feel his temperature.

“Bud you’re burning up” he whispered “but you can’t have medicine without food first” he sighed trying to figure out how to get Matt to eat.

“How about if you promise to eat, your allowed to eat on the couch and watch tv?” Nick suggested and the brunette boy looked up at him, he flashed a limp smile.

“Okay deal” nick sighed, happy that he got the boy to finally eat.

He cooked some sausages, some toast and just in case everything else failed, he put some peanut butter on a rice cake, just something that he could hopefully keep down if nothing else.

“Here you go bud, what do you wanna watch?” Nick asked, placing the different food items on the table in front of Matt did him to pick up whatever he wants. He ended up with a few pieces of sausage and a rice cake on his plate.

“Ummm bluey?” He asked and nick and Chris shared a confused look, Matt and never suggested it before. But they knew it would make him happy so they put it on anyway.

After a few episodes of the show and two small plates of food, matts hunger was satisfied, he was entertained and his two brothers know their little was gonna fall asleep as they watched him slowly drift off.

Whilst Matt was asleep, the two men cleaned the kitchen, ate their own food and planned a bit more. By the time they were done it was getting late and matt had only woken up once for a drink before going back to sleep.

The men decided to sleep downstairs on the couch with him for the night, so that they didn’t have to wake him up to move him and also could check up on him in the night.

—————

Sorry if it’s bad I’m writing n my phone!!

- coco loves yalllll 💝🩹

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #agere blog #sturniolo x reader #tara yummy #jake and johnnie

21 notes · View notes

moonswolfie · 11 months

Note

omg hi! i came across your blog months ago and accidentally refreshed the tumblr homepage so I lost you 😭😭😭 but its so good to see you again!

i just saw your 200 follower event so very very congratulations for that! you deserve every bit of them!!

may I request bokuto + 28 (or 29) for the event? thankyou sm <3

Bokuto x gn!reader

Oh my god i remember you!! you mass liked all my bokuto stuff (which i'm not mad about at all, the girls that get it GET IT)

anyways time to tease the hell out of our owl boi😈

You've been acting strange lately. Strange in the way that you casually hold onto him a lot more, you smile at him and lean super close to his face.

You've never done this during your friendship. And it bothered him, but not in the way you would expect.

He likes the closeness, he loves it! But the issue is, he likes it a little too much. He has like liked you for a while now and constantly clinging onto him doesn't help his case.

He even got scolded by the coach one time because he was so deeply in thought about your gentle touches and little smiles.

One more day of your seemingly innocent hugs and and he swears he'll lose it.

So the next time you hugged him from behind, surprising him at the area where the two of you meet for lunch, he pushed them off.

You made a noise of surprise and before you could do much else, he spun around and grabbed your shoulders.

"You have to stop hugging me like that! It's too cute and I can't think of anything anymore! Even the coach is getting mad at me for it!" he shook you a little harder than he probably intended to.

"Wait, wait, did you just say I look too cute when I hug you? Do you have something to tell me, hmmm?" you asked, one eyebrow raised. Even though it was a little cruel, you loved seeing his face transition into different shades of red at the realisation.

"So ummm.... I might or might not like you? And I kinda maybe want to take you out on a date?" he asked everyone in the club beforehand. You (probably) like him too. But this was the uncoolest confession he's ever made.

"Aghhh, I'm sorry, I got carried away..." he burried his face in his hands and groaned. He wants to hide from you forever after a spontaneous confession like that. But what's he to do when you stare at his lips for too long and he can't stop thinking about it?

You simply laughed a little in response, patting his back. "Don't turn emo on me now, I like you too."

"...Really?" he peeked out from between his hands to find your eyes immediately moving to his lips.

"Okay, that's it. Come here!" Bokuto felt something snap within him at that moment, pulling you to him by your head and pressing a kiss on your lips.

"Hmmm, it worked." you smirked at him after the kiss was over.

"So it WAS on purpose!"

#˗ˏˋ ★ ☁︎ 「Wolfie's works」 ☾ ★ ˎˊ˗#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyū!!#haikyu x reader #x reader #haikyu!!#bokuto imagines #bokuto x you #bokuto x reader #bokuto x y/n #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto koutaro x reader #bokuto koutaro x y/n #bokuto fluff

75 notes · View notes

wisteria-cherry · 11 months

Text

forty days and forty nights (day thirty-four!)

“already?”

“don’t get your panties in a twist, s’not like ‘m not comin’ back tomorrow.” katsuki grumbled.

“why’re you so concerned about my panties, huh?” you narrow your eyes teasingly.

“shut the hell up!” katsuki barked. “it’s just a damn figure of speech!”

“sure, sure,” you roll your eyes skeptically, feigning ignorance.

“i’m getting outta here!” katsuki snapped, standing up. you smiled. he’d been here for a little more than two hours, anyway, and it was time to close.

“bye, katsuki.” you snicker as he rolls her eyes, lumbering out the door.

you jiggle the key in the door, locking it before pulling it out with some trouble. you didn’t mind closing, but the key sometimes was sticky and got stuck in the door when you were trying to lock the door from the outside. plus, you really didn’t like sweeping.

you tuck the keys in your pocket before turning around, beginning your oh-so-long trek back to your apartment. you close your eyes and inhale deeply as you walk, smelling the crisp fall air, relishing in the cool breeze and cheery sunlight. it was a beautiful day, really. you open your eyes again and look around at the trees lining the sidewalk and the street lamps illuminating the storefronts. you pause and glance back.

you could’ve sworn there something was there.

you shake your head dismissively, reassuring yourself that there wasn’t anybody. probably.

you continue walking, speeding up your pace slightly, just in case. not that there was anything to worry about, since there wasn’t anyone there. you looked back just in case. no one. you sigh and turn back around.

sure would be nice to have a flashlight, you think to yourself, twirling around as you walk to help ease your nerves. although your phone did technically have a flashlight, it wasn’t the brightest. maybe you ought to start bringing one to work when you have a late shif-

your blood ran cold.

right there, peeking out from the alleyway you’d just passed. there was a face. completely dark and covered up with a ski mask, but the streetlights illuminating the whites of his eyes and small black irises and red pupils. you freeze.

move. go, run. get out of here! your mind screamed, trying to force yourself to move as you stared at the man in shock.

you finally snapped out of it as a street light flickered, the motion catching your attention. you whirl around, breaking into a run as you sprint the rest of the short way home. you didn’t look back until you reached your apartment building. you saw the lanky figure slink out from the alleyway and go in the opposite direction. you shiver as you realize that this was the man who you had been mistaking for mia’s boyfriend, the one that had been looking through the cafe window.

you open the messenger app on your phone again as you curl up on the couch. you stare at your and katsuki’s last conversation, debating whether you ought to tell him. he’s a pro hero, after all, right? he’d be able to help.

or would he? he was the number one pro hero. the best. the busiest, the (second) most popular. would he really have time to help you? besides, one look at the clock told you katsuki was definitely already asleep. you instead turned the tv on, scrolling through the channels before ultimately deciding that a disney movie would serve as a nice distraction.

twenty minutes later, though, the man’s face still lingered in the back of your mind. frustrated, you pull out your phone again, trying to think of a reason to text someone, anyone.

lucky for you, you didn’t need to, because mina texted you. bless her.

mina: hey bestieeee let’s have a sleepover💕

me: when were you thinking?

mina: ummm at night

mina: LMAO i have no idea💀

mina: let’s find a date

you smile to yourself. you were willing to bet your money that this was an impulsive idea from mina. she rarely thought things through before going through with them, unlike yourself. you were always preoccupied with consequences, regardless of what it is you were dealing with. you admired her for that reason.

me: okay. you’re probably busier than i am since you’re a hero, so let me know what days work for you.

besides, after tonight, you needed a distraction.

“bye, katsuki.”

<- previous next->

(feel free to comment + leave ur thoughts :)

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #bakugou #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo oneshot #coffee shop au #pro hero bakugo x reader

59 notes · View notes

triplexdoublex · 5 months

Text

Promise

Pairing: (Virgin) Chase Hudson x (Virgin) Reader

Warnings/tags : virginity, loosing virginity, mild blood, Sharing past memories of them being just friends as children. brief mention of underage drinking (Chase and reader DO NOT par take), brief off page mention of them kissing and getting to 2nd base( kiss/touch breasts) in the past prior to them turning 18. , NO SEX including ORAL happens before they are 18 only after!!!

“Pinky Promise,” you and Chase said in unison, hooking your little twelve year old pinkies together. “And I promise to never break a promise… EVER!” You both followed, in tradition with your usual promise making ritual the two of you had developed over your lifetime of being neighbors and best friends.

********

And you never did break a promise to each other, not once… and you certainly weren’t going to start now.

“Ugh, if I could go back in time and punch twelve year old me in the face right now I would!” Chase grumbles in sexual frustration, pausing his steamy make out session with you, and moving to sit at the end of his bed before things go any further. This is the closest the two of you have ever been to breaking the promise you made to eachother that fateful day after watching a video on STDs and teen pregnancy in sixth grade health class.

“I’d punch twelve year old me too, if I could,” you match his level of frustration. You grab your bra and fasten it back on before joining him at the end of the bed. “I should have known coming over here when your parents aren’t home was gonna make it nearly impossible to stick to our stupid ‘no sex until after highschool graduation’ pact.”

“If we’re being honest you should probably punch yourself twice,” he elbows you playfully.

“Oh yeah, and why’s that?”

“Because you’re the one who decided we should add ‘no oral sex or touching below the waist’ to the pact.” He runs his painted fingertips through his deep brown hair.

“It sounded gross at the time!” You exclaim in playful defense. “Plus neither of us knew we’d end up together.” You add. “It wasn’t until we were fifteen when you kissed me during our weekly Friday movie night that I even knew you liked me like that. I still remember the surge of electricity that went through me the second your lips touched mine, and how it made me lose my grip on the bowl of popcorn— what a mess!” You smile at him.

“Yeah,” he smiles back at you, reminiscing. “We kissed until the credits rolled. I still don’t know how ‘I’m Thinking of Ending Things’ actually ends.” He laughs.

“It ended with your tongue down my throat,” you giggle. “But it’s three years later — we’re eighteen now — and that’s still all we’ve really done, besides you kissing and touching my breasts. There’s gotta be something we can do to get some release without breaking our promise. The overwhelming desire to make eachother cum, is absolutely killing me lately.”

“It’s killing me too—Fuck, especially hearing you talk like that— you’re not helping you know,” he jokes, adjusting himself in his pants.

“Sorry,” you blush. “But ummm, I think I might know something we could try though,” you say softly, hesitant to admit what you’re about to.

“Please, What? Anything!” Chase practically begs.

“Ok, I’m kinda embarrassed to say this, and you’re probably gonna think I’m weird but umm…so obviously, sometimes I masturbate thinking about you, and I’m sure you do it thinking about me too—” you pause to take a deep breath. “—but sometimes it’s not enough so i’ll like hump my pillow and pretend it’s you and- and, I can get off like that,” you hide your face in your hands.

“Hey, you don’t need to be embarrassed,” he peels your hands away from your face. “I actually think that’s hott as fuck. I’m honored. He smiles, blushing. “I’m not sure how that helps us now though?”

“Y-you can be like my pillow — we’ll both keep our clothes on of course, well the necessary ones anyway.

“Ok, I’m totally down to try that,” he says with a flirtatious smile as he scoots himself back on the bed and lays down. “I’m all yours,” he smirks, gripping his erection through his tight jeans.

The depths of your abdomen are already warm with desire as you straddle him. As luck would have it, you’re wearing a skirt; the thin fabric of your panties are the only thing separating your plump and eager clit from the hard bulge of denim beneath you, as you begin the slow roll of your hips.

“Mmmhahamm,” Chase moans out a satisfied, smug, little laugh as he slides his hands up your thighs and under your skirt to grip your hips. “This just might be the best idea you’ve ever had,” he smirks, using his grip to push and pull you against him, intensifying the friction for you both.

The feeling is far more intense than the soft cushion of your pillow and you relish in it, appreciating the way his twitching cock excites your sensitive bud.

“Goddd, I wish you were inside me right now!” you whine out, adding a slight bounce to your movements so you can pretend.

“Trust me, I know, I wish I was too,” he bucks his pelvis up to play into the fantasy of it all.

The only thing missing is a fullness inside of you and a tight warmth around Chase, but this will do for now. You can feel how slick you're getting and wonder if Chase can feel the dampness through his denim. And as if he can read your mind he slides his hands back down your thighs to the hem of your skirt, lifting it up to take a peek underneath.

“Mm-Fuck that’s so hott! You’re soaking through your panties babe,” he exclaims, watching in awe as wet spot blooms.

“That’s because this feels s-sooo fucking good, baby! Mmmhhm.” You moan, looking directly into his gorgeous blue eyes.

“Yeah?” He asks rhetorically and bites his lip, as his body moves in unison with yours. “Let’s get this back off you, huh?” He sits up slightly supporting himself with one hand as he expertly unhooks your bra with the other . It’s one of the only things he’s been allowed to take off of you for the last three years, so of course he’s mastered it by now. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous,” he sits up fully now, gently cupping your face with partial sweater paws —his painted finger tips resting gently on the apples of your cheeks. He pulls you in and begins kissing you, your tongues embracing each others in sensual rhythm.

You grab the hem of his oversized sweater and begin to pull it up, only parting your mouths long enough to tug it over his head. The second it’s discarded, you’re at it again; desperate, hungry kisses moaning into eachothers mouth.

“C-can I try be-being on top now,?” he breaks the kiss to ask, panting and out of breath.

“Of course,” you roll off him and lay on your back, letting him climb on top.

Somehow this position makes everything feel more real; the weight of him between your legs; the skin to skin contact of your bare, sweat-slicked chests gliding against each other with every roll of Chase’s hips.

“Mmmhm— Fuck, baby! Can’t wait to do this for real,” he kisses the words into the flesh right below your ear; he knows it’s your favorite spot. As usual it sends a wave of pleasure straight to your core.

“Fuck, I’m so close, Chase! Don’t stop!”you cry out. But your words excite him too much…

“Shit! No no no no NO! Not yet!” He pleads with himself, shortly following with a defeated “I’m cumming.” With a heavy sigh he rolls off of you. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Chase, don’t worry about it, besides I can take care of myself,” you reassure him, giving him a peck on the lips, and shift to get out of bed to head to the bathroom.

“Wait!” He reaches out grabbing you by the wrist. “I wanna watch …if that’s ok with you of course.”

“Umm.. yeah, okay,” you reply timidly, knowing you're about to star in a private show of one of your most intimate moments; all eyes on you, even if they are just Chase’s.

You position yourself back on the bed—legs spread and skirt lifted for Chase’s viewing pleasure— and slip your hand into your panties. It was never an official part of the original promise you made, but at some point in your relationship it became like an unspoken rule that seeing those parts of each other were off limits until after graduation as well. Your fingers move in circles over your clit, shielded only by the thin, delicate, wet fabric of your panties. It doesn’t take long before Chase is hard again; his own hand tucked into his boxer briefs, as he watches you.

“So sexy, playing with yourself for me,” he stares in awe. “Thinking about this dick inside you baby?” He says, as he strokes himself, his jeans now unzipped to allow him more range of motion.

“Mmmhm, you know it, Cha—“ your orgasm cuts off your words as it surges through you. Chase can’t take his eyes off you as your legs tremble and thighs clamp close around your hand— he’s never seen anything so arousing in his life.

“Baby, give me your hand,” he requests, when your body stops seizing in pleasure. You give him a quizzical look. “Trust me,” he elaborates. And you do—you trust him, you trust him with every cell in your body —so you extend your free hand out to him , the other still resting lazily in your panties. “No, the other one,” he specifies. In confused silence you pull out your hand—fingers still sleek with your essence—and give it to Chase who brings it to his lips. “Wanna taste you,” he takes two of your fingers into his mouth, his tongue swirling over, around and between them.

His dick twitches at his first taste of your flavor. You feel the buzz of his moans briefly around your fingers before they fall from his slack jaw as he cums hard in his pants, again.

“Can I?” You ask, nodding down to the mess seeping through his boxers.

He knows exactly what you’re asking and thumbs a drop of cum from his tip, and brings it to your lips. You open your mouth and he pushes his thumb in allowing you a taste of his salty release.

“Do I taste good, baby?” He asks. With his thumb still in your mouth you coyly nod yes. “You do too,” he smirks before slipping out his thumb. “God, I can’t wait until graduation.”

************************

By the time graduation rolls around the two of you have practically worn a hole in the crotch of every pair of pants and underwear you own.

After diplomas are received and caps thrown you sneak off to a hotel party with Chase, telling your mom you’re at sleepover with your friend, because even though you’re eighteen your moms one of those ‘you live under my roof, you live under my rules’ kind of mom. Technically you’re not really lying since your friend is here at the party too, but you doubt anyone’s gonna be sleeping, unless they just blackout; Another friend's older brother is stupidly supplying alcohol. You and Chase will not be partaking — another sixth grade health class promise to each other— no drinking until the legal age of 21.

Chase has been acting slightly off all night, he seems distracted, like his mind is completely somewhere else right now. It’s so unlike him and you're a little concerned.

“Earth to Chase,” you call out, grabbing his attention. “You okay? What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He takes a big breath before answering “Sorry it was supposed to be a surprise after the party but I can’t get it off my mind …..I got us our own room,” he says handing you a key card.

“Oh..OHH!” It suddenly hits you as to why he’s been acting so odd. “I’m gonna go tell my friends I’m not feeling well, so we’re leaving early.”

***********

Once alone inside the room with Chase, your nerves start to kick in but you try not to show it. You and Chase are on the bed— still fully clothed sans socks and shoes— kissing softly when he pauses to ask…

“So how do you wanna do this?”

“Umm, however you want to I guess.” You respond sounding unsure.

“Are you okay? We don’t have to do this tonight if you’re not ready yet,” he says sensing your nerves. “I’ll be just as happy sleeping next to you as I’ll be sleeping with you. No pressure.”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Everyone makes such a huge deal out of virginity , I think I’m just psyching myself out even though I know it's just a social construct. I’m mostly just worried about it hurting,” you admit.

“Promise I’ll be as gentle as possible, and we can stop anytime you want or need too,” he reassures you. Just let me know—I’m your best friend before anything else, before being your boyfriend, and certainly before my own pleasure— the last thing I wanna do is hurt you in any way shape or form.

“Thank you, I really appreciate that. You make me feel so safe, I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone but you,” you give him a slow, sensual kiss, before pausing to speak again, “I really appreciate you going to the gyno with me to get birth control last month too,”

“Of course, birth control is just as much my responsibility as it is yours—which reminds me, I wasn't sure if you still wanted to use condoms or not, but I brought some,” he reaches into his small cross body bag on the floor by the bed and pulls out a three pack. “Completely up to you, I’m fine either way.”

“I’m okay doing it without one. I mean, I’m on birth control and we’re both virgins.”

“ That’s what I was thinking too, but I wanted to bring them just in case you didn’t feel the same way,”

“You’re the best,” you smile at him. “So umm I was thinking like, missionary— at least to start.”

“Whatever you want, baby.”

“And umm, if you don’t mind, can we like skip the other stuff for now? I’m just really anxious to finally have sex with you,” you blush.

“Same,” he smiles. “I’m completely fine with that,”

Slowly, you begin undressing each other: first tugging Chase’s form fitting black T-shirt up and over his head, followed by him pulling you to your feet so he can unzip the back of your dress. He stands behind you, kissing the base of your neck before taking his time lowering the zipper, and continuing to kiss down your vertebrae as he goes. Once fully unzipped you shrug the garment from your shoulders, letting it cascade down your body and pool at your feet. Chase lends you a hand, helping you step out of the swirl of fabric and then gently lays you down on the bed. You’re only in your panties; your graduation dress not requiring a bra. Chase stands at the foot of the bed and begins to unbuckle the belt of his dress pants. It’s by far one of the hottest sights you’ve ever seen, reminiscent of the cover of one of your guilty pleasure steamy romance novels. After he’s fully removed his pants, he climbs onto the bed, the both of you in just your underwear.

“Can I take these off you?” He hooks his thumbs under the skinny strap of fabric at your hips. You respond with a nod and your bottom lip tucked tightly between your teeth. You lift your hips for him as Chase makes quick work of tugging them down and off. He marvels at the sight before him; you completely nude for the very first time in his presence. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he lightly traces a single finger over your slit, just barely parting your lips. “Ready for me?” He strokes himself through the confines of his boxers and then quickly removes them when you respond with another nod. He spreads your legs then positions himself between them. “Try to relax for me, okay.”

He attempts to run his tip through your folds to lubricate himself before pushing in but it seems your arousal isn’t quite as plentiful as the times that the two of you have simulated sex. You can feel the friction from the lack of wetness as Chase tries to navigate his way through your folds, and embarrassingly, you know he can feel it too.

“I’m sorry,” you cover your face in shame. “I want this. I’m in the mood and everything, I swear. I’m turned on, you turn me on—-” you ramble in a panic, thinking Chase is going to be offended.

“Shhh, baby, it’s okay. I know it’s probably just because you’re nervous. Don’t worry about it, I brought some lube, just in case,” Chase reaches down to his bag once again, and pulls out a small colorful bottle. “Is it okay if I rub some on you?”

“Of course,.………Chase,—I love you, seriously, you’re the best.” You’ve heard some of your other friends' first time stories and you know how lucky you are to have someone who cares as much about your level of pleasure and comfort as their own.

“I love you, too,” he smiles, giving you a kiss on the forehead. “I know you said you wanted to skip the other stuff for now, but I think it might be a good idea if I get you warmed up with my fingers a little first. Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” you involuntarily squirm with anticipation.

Chase cracks open the bottle of lube, and squeezes out a moderate amount onto his fingertips. He warms the clear, cool, jelly between his thumb and forefingers before gently applying it to your opening.

“Ready?” He waits for your nod of approval before sliding a slicked finger inside of you. The sensation causes you to softly breathe out his name. “You okay?” He asks, sounding concerned.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Keep going.” And he does, working them in a ‘come hither’ motion and adding a second finger when you say it’s okay. You wouldn’t say it hurts by any means, but you can definitely feel the pressure and stretch of his long, slender fingers working inside you. But the pleasure is there as well; that special spot you also learned about in health class—Chase has undeniably found it. “Mmmm, Chase—fuck…so good — kiss me.”

“Anything you want, baby,” Chase leans over your body— his fingers still getting you ready for him— and connects his mouth to yours, devouring your moans. Every kiss fills you with the same electric surge as it did during that Friday movie night, three years ago. That’s how it always is with you and Chase; every kiss feels like the first time —everytime.

“Want you…now,” you whimper as he moves the kisses to your neck.

“I’m right here, baby. I’m all yours,” he breathes against your flesh.

“Inside me,” you clarify, grabbing his hard dick.

“Yeah?” He perks his head up smiling at you. “Think you can take me now?”

“Yeah, go slow though,”

“I will, baby,” he slips out his fingers and uses the mixture of lube and arousal to coat himself before lining up between your legs again. “Let me know if I’m hurting you or you need me to stop, okay.”

“Okay,” you take a deep breath and slowly release it, trying to calm your nerves, while he lines himself up again.

This time he’s able penetrate you, and delicately begins sinking further in. He places his hands down on the mattress near your shoulders to support himself and you instantly grip his arms, slightly digging in your fingernails.

“You alright?” He pauses pushing in.

“I’m ok… k-keep going.”

“You sure ?”

“I’m sure.”

He continues to caringly inch his way inside you until his pelvis is flush with your body.

“Mhmm—fuck!.. i-it’s, it’s all the way in, baby. Feels so good…too good. Mmmmh, shit, gimme a minute.” He closes his eyes and sinks his teeth into his lip.

“It’s okay, I need one too.” You distract yourself from the twinge of pain between your legs by fiddling with one of his necklaces. “I still can’t believe you’ve kept this all these years,” you say, holding the dog tag that hovers above your body like a pendulum at rest; Chase’s name engraved on the front.

“Of course I do. You gave it to me,” he strokes the side of your cheek with the back of his hand.

“Yeah, for your tenth birthday!” You giggle.

“I loved you then—even if I didn’t know it yet—and I love you now,” he leans down, kissing you softly. The cold metal of the tag now touching your breasts excites you, and you let out a small moan that buzzes against Chase's lips. “I should be good now, are you?”

You silently nod and Chase—paying close attention to where your bodies are joined — slowly draws his hips back and gently pushes in again, but this time when he pulls back his hips he notices a bright red streak down his length.

“Shit, you're bleeding!” he sounds panicked.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry!” You go to cover your face again, but Chases intercepts, instead, interlocking your fingers together

“Baby, it’s okay. I know it’s common the first time. I don’t care about the blood, I’m worried I’m hurting you.”

“I mean yeah, it hurts a little, but it's gonna hurt whether we do this now, later, or another year from now; It just comes with the territory. I trust you and I know you're being as gentle as you possibly can. I’ll be okay, I promise.” You reassure him. Besides, from what your friends have told you it should begin hurting less and start to feel good soon.

“Soo continue?” He asks, to be sure.

“Yes, make love to me, Chase!

With his hands still interlaced with yours, he resumes the slow and careful roll of his hips and gently pins them to the mattress just slightly above your head. It’s not a dominance thing though , it’s not like the movies, or the spicy romance novels you read — it’s an assurance thing, a silent way of letting you know he’s got you, you’re in good hands and he’s gonna take good care of you. He dips his head, planting a garden of kisses along your throat as he delicately pivots his hips. It takes a bit to adjust to the intense stretch but Chase coaches you through it—reminding you to breathe, and distracting you with sensual praise and eye contact— until the ache eventually fades away. The sensation that replaces it is akin to the feeling of the way your heart skipped a beat the first time Chase said ‘I love you.” The memory of it playing on repeat inside of you everytime he glides over your g-spot.

“Ohh… Chase!” You pant breathily.

“You alrig—?“

“ You feel so fucking good,” you cry out, cutting off his question of concern.

“Mmmghh, he grunts at the pleasure your words bring him. “Happy you… mmhm finally get to enjoy this as mmmuch as I am,” he speaks through broken moans. “Don't know how mmmuch longer I can last though”

“Ss’okay, babe. It’s your first time too, I-I understand.”

T he next few minutes are filled with mutual pleasure, love-laden moans and passionate kisses. And even though a part of him is literally inside you, and your bodies are pressed together, you desire him impossibly closer still; your hands gripping and grabbing at his slender body as if you could just crawl into his chest and stay there for all of eternity. You call out his name as a familiar feeling begins to brew within you. But before you can reach your climax …

“Can I… in you?” Chase asks through heavy breathing. And with your nod of consent, he begins to pulse inside you, a warm sensation filling you up. “Ughhm, Holy Fuck!” Chase calls out, a shiver of ecstasy running through his body. He collapses on top of you, boneless as a jellyfish while he comes down from his high and catches his breath. “That was the best orgasm of my fucking life!” He manages to lift himself up to speak, making eye contact with you. “Wanna make you feel good too, Can I finish you off?” He sensually runs his tongue over his top lip.

“I’d like that,” you squirm, on the brink of orgasm already.

With no prior experience with oral sex you silently wonder to yourself if he’ll be able to make you cum, but the second his tongue traces a counter-clockwise half circle around your clit, you know he will—and soon! He continues licking a stripe down the side of your sensitive bud, then halfway back up, over and down. When he circles your clit next, you realize what he’s doing before he even finishes the letter.

“Chase!” You blurt out as if you were supposed to guess the word his tongue is spelling out in calligraphy.

Your hand rides atop his head as he softly zigzags the letter ‘S’ over your clit. Somewhere in the middle of the final letter your body starts convulsing in pleasure and Chase proudly wears your thighs as earmuffs as he makes you cum.

“God, I fucking love you,” he kisses his way back up your body, when your thighs finally release their hold on him. He gives you one last kiss on your mouth before he settles down on his back besides you. He takes your hand in his and brings it up to his lips placing a gentle peck on the backside. “That was amazing,” he says with his head turned, looking in your eyes as he softly strokes your hair. “Finally getting to be with you like that after so long was….was everything!” He struggles to find a word special enough to encompass the way he’s feeling. “I swear the wait just intensified the experience as a whole; so many new and exciting sensations we got to explore together for the first time ,” he kisses you lightly on your forehead.

“I agree, and I’m so lucky to have a man so deserving of sharing my body with. I felt so safe, respected and loved the entire time; so thank you for that.”

“Of course,” he gives you another forehead kiss and starts to get up.

“Mmghh,” you grumble playfully “Where you going? Stay with me.”

“I’m gonna draw you a nice cool bath, it should help with any remaining soreness…and here take two of these,” he pulls out a travel size bottle of Tylenol from his bag.

“Thanks,” you smile, getting up from the bed and grabbing a water from the mini fridge. You wash the pills down your throat with a sip of water, and make your way into the bathroom.

“Oh, and don’t forget to pee!” He calls out as you close the bathroom door.

“Okay, you reply, laughing to yourself. You think it’s adorable how he obviously did his research; from the lube, to spelling his name between your thighs, the Tylenol, the cool bath, and reminding you to empty your bladder. You wouldn’t dare call him out on it though.

**************

After your bath, you wrap yourself in the white robe provided by the hotel and open the bathroom door only to find Chase sitting on the bed in his boxers, a bleach pen in hand, scrubbing at the small— mostly gone— crimson patch on the sheets.

“ You can sleep on that side. I’ll sleep on the wet spot… think I got it out though.” Chase says, tucking the stain remover back into his little ‘first time’ kit.

“Oh, Chase, you say playfully. You’re such a dork sometimes, but I totally love you for it,” you pick up one of his balled up socks off the floor, and throw it at him.

“Hey, what was that for!” He smiles at you, tossing it back.

“Nothing,” you say, not wanting to embarrass him. “I just appreciate everything that went into tonight,” you leave it at that, and take a seat on the bed.

“Wait, hold that thought,” he sounds both elated and nervous all of a sudden. “I have one more surprise for tonight.” He pulls a small wrapped box out of his bag and hands it to you. You look at him quizzically. “Go ahead, open it!” He’s so excited that if he were a dog, his tail would be wagging. You removed the wrapping paper to find a black velvet ring box.

“Chase,” you let out in a barely audible breath, your eyes already welling with happy tears. With unsteady hands you pry open the hinged box to reveal a conservative sized diamond ring. You drop the box into your lap and throw your arms around Chase. “Yes, yes— a million times yes, baby!”

“Sorry, I couldn’t get you anything bigger right now, it’s just a promise ring but I didn’t wanna wait any longer trying to save up, I figured tonight would be the perfect night to ask you.”

“ It’s beautiful, Chase, I love it!” You retrieve the box from your lap to admire the dainty melee diamonds that surround a slightly larger Marquise cut diamond in the center.

“Here, let me put it on you,” he gently takes the box from your hand, removes the ring and begins sliding it on the ring finger of your left hand. “A promise solidifies the bond between two people and with this promise ring, I vow to honor that bond forever. This ring is a symbol of my love for you and my promise to marry you… after College graduation,” he adds with a laugh.

“Oh we’re playing that game again?” You return his laughter.

“It will be worth the wait, just like it was this time, promise.”

#chase Hudson #huddy #lil huddy #chase hudson fanfic #chase hudson x reader #chase Hudson smut #huddy x reader #huddy fanfic #huddy smut

20 notes · View notes