There’s No Way She’s Real 🥰🫠

There’s no way she’s real 🥰🫠

TZUYU x COSMOPOLITAN KOREA OCTOBER 2024

How you met Nayeon

Idol!Nayeon x Fem!reader

Synopsis: You were just a regular grocery store cashier when a pretty girl walks in with a group of other pretty girls.

Type of post: Headcanon

Tags: Fluffy first meets, fluff, reader is clueless at first, nayeon is a hopeless flirt

A/n: I had a lot of fun writing this and really hope yall enjoy it :D

---✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦---✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦---

Y/n was bore, it was close to 9pm and she only had 2 more hours left before her shift ended, and she was bored out of her mind. It's been hours sinc her shift started and of her dealing with some intereting customers, and having to be on her feet for hours.

Leaning against her check out stand, eyes half lidded, head nodding off to sleep, when all of a sudden, a groupd of girls walk in, making some noise, she looks up from her stand, to see nine beautiful girls walking into the store.

One girl squealed running over to the trolleys, pulling and pushing one to another girl who she gestured to climb in, the shortest girl climb into the trolley laughing.

The other girls giggled, walking around the store, picking up random items and dropping them in thr trolley while the girl inside adjust the items so that she can sit comfortably, laughing and talking to each other as they continue to shop.

One girl came running around the corner from what seems to be the snacks aisle to the others dumping a bunch of chip bags in the trolley, while two others were chasing each other around racing to other aisles.

Once the girls seem to be done, they start making their way to the tills. Y/n stood up straight hoping wondering if the girls would come up to her till to check out.

The girls continue to laugh and talk until they come up to the cashier, smiling at Y/n, the timid looking girl starts unpacking the trolley, and packing the items onto the conver belt, while the girl in the trolley helps pass her the items, the other girls cut through the closed tills to stand at the baggage area, while Y/n scans each item passing them along to the girls standing at the end.

Once all the items have been scanned and put in bags, a girl stood in front of Y/n, giving her what looked to be a very flirty smile, "hi" she smiled, showing off her cute bunny like teeth.

Flustered Y/n looks down, trying to ring up the girls, "t-that's $97.56", smiling the bunny girl reaches for her wallet, pulling out a two hundred dollar bills and handing to them to Y/n, smiling when their hands graze.

Putting the cash in the cash box, Y/n counts the change, about to hand it to the girl, "you can keep the change darling" the girl says with a flirty smile, "in exchange, I'd like your numebr", smiling she bites her lip.

Looking like a deer caught in headlights Y/n stands frozen in her spot, stuttering a what, looking between the girl and her hands. "I don't get to keep the change miss, it goes straight to finance" she barely whispers out, shocked the girl pouts, a little sad at the fact that the pretty till lady didn't get to keep her change.

Taking her change, she thinks, "fine then, we could go on a date" she suggests, "Nayeon unnie you can't go on a date with a random girl, what if she leaks out your secrets to dispatch?" the short girl in the trolley scolds the flirty bunny, "she wouldn't do that! Would you dear?" she exclaims looking to Y/n with bright eyes.

"H-huh?" Y/n stood confused looking between the two girls, shaking out of her confusion, she grabs the receipt and hands it to the girls with shaky hands.

“Unnie hurry up, manager-nim will know that we snuck out the longer we’re not at the hotel” one girl scolded, grabbing the receipt and taking control of the trolley, “okay okay I’m coming” bunny girl said shooing the others on, turning back to Mila smiling, “can I at least get your number?” She asks with a raised eyebrow and smirk.

"I- uh- sure?" Y/n stuttered unsurely, the girl got out her phone, opened it and handed it to Y/n, she typed her number in and gave the phone back smiling unsurely, "I'm Nayeon by the way, in case when I text you you're not confused" Nayeon smiled, "Y/n", "pretty name for a pretty girl" Nayeon smirked, while Y/n gave a shy smile.

The girl from earlier came back, scolding Nayeon even more about how she needed to hurry up and get back to the hotel, looking back at Mila, Nayeon gave her a pout, "we have to go, but I promise I'll text you soon sweet girl" winking Nayeon turned around to the other girl and they both walked out the store.

Confused and flustered Y/n went back to her job, realising that it's alomost time to knock off and began packing up her till, counting the cash and noting down how much was in her box, before putting it in the cash bag,and going into the main office to put the cash bag in the locked desk.

Walking out and back to her till, Y/n saw her phone light up with notifications. She picked up her phone, looking at the notifications saw that they were text from an unknown number, opening her phone, she went to the messages to see that they were sent by Nayeon, smiling at the messages she said a quick hi, then went back to packing up and getting ready to go home.

---✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦---✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦---

A/n: I’m really bad with ending so don’t mind how it ended, I hope you enjoyed reading this :D

JiChaeng HCs

SFW HCs

Things were quite awkward between these two for a long time. In more ways than one. Chaeyoung had always been quite formal and for the first couple years, even a little scared of Jihyo. However, over time she had also developed a crush on her.

Jihyo on the other hand had always been a little unsure of how to be around Chaeyoung. She thought of her as quite cute but struggled to balance between treating her as one of the youngest and as a friend. She felt annoyed by this and made an effort to spend more time with Chaeyoung to try to get rid of the barrier and it worked….till she realized that now the only thing on her mind was Chaeyoung.

Despite the two getting closer, Chaeyoung chalked the crush off, believing that things won’t ever go anywhere between them. But spending lots of time with Jihyo both at work and outside of it made it quite difficult to get over it.

While Jihyo was really frustrated because she didn’t know how to proceed things further and eventually ended up confiding in Nayeon about her situation. She expected some teasing and some good advice from her. What she didn’t expect was to be told that Chaeyoung had a crush on her too.

After a nervous confession by Jihyo, Chaeyoung shyly admitted that she did indeed feel the same way and the two finally started dating.

Jihyo insisted on teaching Chaeyoung how to play tennis despite Chaeyoung protesting that she’s not a sporty person. Chaeyoung ended up becoming surprisingly good at it, mostly due to how unorthodox and lazy her play style was, beating Jihyo more times than you might expect.

Jihyo started to cook more because she wanted to make Chaeyoung’s favorite meals and it’s also her way to express her affections.

Chaeyoung developed a habit of sleeping with her face buried in Jihyo’s chest with an arm wrapped around her.

They both secretly wrote a song about the other, wanting to present it at their anniversary.

They watch shows together but often get way too invested in it and it’s a struggle for them to be patient and not watch it without the other. Jihyo once had a free morning while Chaeyoung did not and ended up watching an episode on her own and felt very guilty. Unbeknownst to her, Chaeyoung had already secretly watched that episode the night before while Jihyo slept. Regardless, they both watched it again later that day trying to act surprised at the parts so the other thinks they watched it for the first time.

NSFW HCs

As you might expect, Jihyo is the dom and Chaeyoung is the sub.

Jihyo secretly loves the authority she has over Chaeyoung and often orders her around although sometimes it’s just to tease her.

Jihyo could literally order Chaeyoung to get on her knees at any point and Chaeyoung would obey almost instinctively.

Chaeyoung likes to play with Jihyo’s boobs absentmindedly while watching something.

Their interests don’t always gel but they have ideas to make it interesting. Like Jihyo dragging Chaeyoung away to the bathroom for a quickie when she got somewhat bored while visiting a museum or Chaeyoung feeling tired of tennis after a couple rounds and telling Jihyo that she’d rather serve her than the ball….

Dahyun found about them dating when she heard sounds of a movie she really liked coming from the living room only to walk in to Jihyo making out with Chaeyoung while fingering.

Chaeyoung’s wax play fits in well with Jihyo’s sensitive chest, it’s one of the few times Chaeyoung eagerly takes charge.

Jihyo was really surprised by how explicit and suggestive Chaeyoung can be over text, whether it’s innuendos, pictures or just something straight up outrageous. She doesn’t mind that though, in fact she takes it as a challenge to turn the suggestive confident texting Chaeyoung into a whimpering mess as soon as possible.

Chaeyoung often ends up leaving bite marks on Jihyo’s shoulder.

Jihyo will often catch Chaeyoung staring at her and will tease her about it.

52 notes View Post

hwabyul4wheesun

1 year ago

This is the best thing you ever read in your god damn life

my knife that's bounded by your love

witch!son chaeyoung x witchhunter!reader || angst, fluff

synposis: you and the celestial witch you captured are forced to rely on each other in the harsh wilderness of the winter, and what comes after.

warnings: cursing ; blood ; violence ; suggestive content ; enemies to lovers ; attempted sexual assault (not by the reader though) ; posessive behavior

a/n: i threw this idea to @nr1chaedickrider in January and was motivated to finish this when the mood film of the with you-th mini album came out. :)

(this has been sitting in my drafts for the longest time now)

they were fast and fluid coming into the dead of night.

chaeyoung is awoken to the snarling face of a man holding a knife shoved against the curve of her throat. she chokes a scream as the man buries a hand into her hair, dragging her out of bed. he’s spitting nonsense in a string of curses, calling her the bride’s demon, a whore, it was all in a flash but she could only focus on the terrified shrieking of her sisters outside.

adrenaline is coursing through her veins, but all it could afford is her hyper-vigilance and panic. she stumbles along the ground like a newborn calf getting the first whiffs of the new air as the hunter opens the door and tosses her out into the cold.

and then she sees the blood.

the visible stark red stained on the blanket of pure white snow. the fair skin of her sister’s throat slashed through, pooling ruddy around her prone body. another one lies right beside her, face frozen in abject horror, an arrow sunk deep in the center of her chest. both were dead.

dead.

chaeyoung is consumed with pure rage, nearly blinding all thoughts as she twists around, senselessly as the blade cuts into her flesh, snapping her teeth at the man’s neck. the man snarls, whipping her head around by her hair, but as much as her vision swims, she doesn’t relent. wrapping her cold hands around his tense wrist and whispers an incantation, grinning while the man yanks his hand away with an agonizing scream, skin blistering through and puncturing hot, blood boiling just beneath, but her victory was only for a few moments. another hunter flanks from behind and kicks her knee out. chaeyoung collapses to the snow with a prolonged mixture of a groan and hiss, her woolen nightgown soaked through.

her entire village had been razed to the ground, burned to a charred, cracking crips. the small wooden houses were nothing but ashy remains. her sisters all piled to form a large puddle swaddling in their own blood, their eyes empty of life and glazed over like a glass doll’s. screams echo around her in a grisly chorus, breaking through the air in all of its horror.

chaeyoung stifles a wince as a broad hand sinks into her hair and heaves her upward, shutting her eyes when the edge of the knife finds her exposed throat, unwilling to face her murderer, to give the hunter’s satisfaction of witnessing her fear.

“you deserve this,” the hunter whispers to her, their pungent, rancid breath warming the outer shell of her ear. “for trading your soul.”

pressing the blade deeper, inciting a motion across, she holds her breath, lungs contracting, anticipating the rush of hot blood followed by the pain, before another voice, low with an ear-piercing command, asks, “what do you think you’re doing?”

the hunter backs off immediately, and chaeyoung crumples back onto her hands and knees, panting hoarsely while clutching her neck. she glances up, noticing a pair of heavy yet sleek, black boots. her eyes lift upwards, trailing over woolen trousers and a dark brown, fur-lined coat, before lingering on a simple silver cross dangling from her neck.

the antithesis of her kind. witch-hunters.

despite her vision being blurred, she finds your face. you’re nothing but with all harsh, rigid angles and sun-kissed skin, your slick hair and your lips chapped pink, the eyes were emotionless and burned like ice. you stare down at her, expression scornful, and lift your sword to her cheekbone. in a firm press, the blade sinks beneath her skin, blood beading against the cold steel; chaeyoung viciously bites her tongue, choking with a pained whimper.

you then slid the flat of her sword beneath her chin, lifting her head again, turning it side to side to side and to side, examining her.

she won’t touch me, chaeyoung realizes once the agony fades from her mind. she knows better.

“is she the last one?”

“uh.” vaguely, she notices the two other hunters glance at each other. “we’re not actually sure.”

“do you idiots at least remember the one’s you’ve killed?” you ask again, clearly annoyed.

“well.” the hunter purses their mouth in thought. “first, we got rid of the wise women.”

chaeyoung’s eyes pop with astonishment. she nearly keels over at the sudden wave of grief bursting through her body. the wise women were the oldest witches in the village, and the most powerful. for them to be murdered so easily and quickly—

“then the younger ones. the, uh—”

the children, she supplies. but she won’t call them that.

“and we went through the rest. they weren’t particularly difficult to get rid of. this village was festering with small pests and decrepit beings. we didn’t even bother going through the bodies.”

“the both of you are morons,” you growl, abruptly furious. she has blood splattered across her angular cheek and collar. “we always keep one for information on how to find the neighboring villages. how else do you think we find them?”

“y/n, we–”

“and yet, here you were, about to kill this one when you haven’t even bothered checking if there were any others left to replace her.”

you gesture at chaeyoung without giving a sense of acknowledgement, almost as if she’s a runt. the other two hunters have the gall to appear daunted.

“i’m sorry, y/n,” one of them says, dipping their head. “we didn’t think of that at the time.”

“like you guys actually would think about that. fucking dumbasses.” you spit, rolling your eyes. for a moment, you look back as there was a quick urge to lecture them more, before spitting on the ground, shaking your head. you snap your fingers towards chaeyoung’s direction.

“if you boneheads want to be useful, then bind her with some rope and start bringing her back to camp. we’ll find some post to tie her until we can properly interrogate her.”

so she’s the leader, chaeyoung realizes, wide-eyed at the realization, as a doting pit deepens in her gut. she speaks with authority, expecting to be obeyed right away. and to her utter shock, she is. the two grab a thick layer of robe, twining it around her wrists and locking them in place. chaeyoung glances up at them, imagining the thought of how amazing it’ll feel to hear them scream once she sets their blood to a boil, once turing the flesh into instant ice with a simple touch before setting fire to the rest. the same way the hunters did to her sisters. the resolve was already set in stone for her.

but the hunter, oblivious to the plotting chaeyoung was devising, simply glances down to her feet.

“how bout we get some shoes on her,” you scoff, motioning to turn away. “the last thing we need is for her to freeze to death before even reaching back to camp.”

it had been at least a half hour walk back to their encampment, and by the time they forced her back to the ground and tied her wrists to the wooden post, she’s half-frozen. they had put on fur-lined boots over her feet as you requested, but refused to give her anything else to battle against the cold. chaeyoung’s lips were dark blue, fingertips nearly blackened from the frostbite she’s getting. if she were to stay like this for any longer, she’d develop hypothermia once dawn breaks again unless she can get warmer clothes or a better shelter.

chaeyoung grist her teeth, jerking her wrists hard. the rope bites back into her delicate skin and fights the wince away from her mouth, throwing her head back against the wooden post.

she needs her hands to use her magic. the hunters know that. it’s the only reason why they’ve tied her like this in the first place.

chaeyoung then closes her hands, trying to mentally block out the cold, the sounds of the rambunctious laughter as the mixture of men and women cheer in celebration at the destruction of her whole livelihood. she needs to keep her head clear to think, but the adrenaline inside her fades away as the only thing in her mind was the thick, displeasing smell of blood and death, the bodies of her fallen sisters. disgusted by the image ingrained in her head, blinking out tears as she remembers the sight of their slit throats and dull eyes, tiny hands fisting the soft snow as knives were thrust into them relentlessly.

choking down a sob, tucking into herself and bowing her head to her knees. the youngest among them had only just turned six—a girl by the name of diana. as they dragged her away, chaeyoung had accidentally stumbled over her body back then, eyes up toward the night sky, bile moving upwards to her throat when she notices present arrow behind her back. the two hunters had shoved her forward before she could vomit it out.

i can’t die, chaeyoung thinks despairingly, turning her eyes up to the unforgiving heavens above. i have to kill them first.

in front of her, chaeyoung can see two male hunters circle around a fire, bundled up in heavy cloaks and sucking something whilst in their leather layered skins, their cheeks flushing red. they’re drinking, she realizes in distaste . they just wiped out an entire village of sleeping women and children and they’re drinking. impossibly, her loathing for them grew even larger.

“hey, witch!”

she narrows her eyes, tensing up her muscles when she notices the pair of hunters get up from the surrounding campfire and trudge over to her. their fur collars are painted with dried blood, lips tugging to a victorious grin and their eyes voided with nothing as they rove over her. chaeyoung is unsure if they see her as any different or more valuable than the wooden post that she’s bound to.

as the pair approach, one of them—the very same hunter who had held a blade to her throat just a little over an hour ago—nudges her leg with their boot and gwaffs when chaeyoung growls at them. not noticing her fear, and even if the hunter did, they were actually enjoying it.

“she’s a lively one ain’t it?” the hunter says to their friend, head tilted before giving a mere casual observation–one that makes her shudder. “but pretty.”

“pretty, yeah. i think if you tried touching her, though, she’d rip your hand off.”

“like she can do anything if she’s tied up like this,” the hunter adds, squatting down to match chaeyoung’s position. making the move closer, hand slowly inching up her leg, their eyes starving. chaeyoung snarls at the hunter viciously and curls in on herself, shaking with much intensity that she’s vibrating against the post, but the hunters laugh at her trembling image. the other hunter next to the first one leans down to the opposite side of her and another approaches the pair, indulging with a hand to her stomach, and she holds back a sob, vision swimming with a sickness in her stomach.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

the sense of deja vu electrifies her when she notices you storm over and grip the other hunter by the neck. you throw them off, kicking their stomach once hitting the ground before your foot met their face again in quick succession.

“are you three out of your goddamn minds?” you snarl again, kicking the hunter still on the ground. “did you not understand the message of not touching her before the interrogation that i need to repeat to you?!”

“fuck off!” to her small satisfying relief, the other hunter at her side jumps to their feet, clearly outraged. “we were just trying to have a little bit of fun! who cares if a skeptic whore gets fucked before we eventually kill her!”

you sneer an eye-piercing glare. “would it be compelling for you to fuck a pig instead?”

chaeyoung’s mind reels at that, the cold pit swallowing her body and blood rushing to their areas more urgently. the reason was all apparent and she still couldn’t believe with her eyes, she is less than human to them. even worse, she was no better than an animal that finds it fun to roll around in their own shit.

still, the sniding remark seems to give the hunters a new sense to their actions, and without looking at her, one of the fellow hunters pulls the other to their feet. they all walk back to their log, heads down in defeat, leaving you and the leader in the frigid silence.

when you turn back to face her, chaeyoung pointedly conceals her lingering distress and refuses to meet her eye, staring above her.

you cock your head to the side with a tsk, “they didn’t give you a blanket to use didn’t they?” observing her.

“was that not purposeful?” chaeyoung snorts. “i thought the endgame was having me killed.”

“not yet.” and before she can even bring herself to process that derogatory statement, you reach up and loosen the clasp at your collar, shucking off the heavy jacket and dropping it carelessly to her lap. she flinches beneath the weight, stomach turning inside-out at the pungent odor of blood and sweat, her body heat was too enticing for her to ignore, so she doesn’t shove the coat off.

chaeyoung sees you cross your arms. the absence of your large coat doesn’t negate the gravity of your stature. you still loomed over her, shoulders broad and legs long. nothing about you seems faltering nor weak.

“you’re from dunchon, past the mountain range.” you say, studying her closely.

chaeyoung scoffs. do you expect her to be impressed?

“and you want me to assume that observation had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you found my village in the mountains? that’s a clever deduction of information.”

you shake your head again. “it’s your accent.”

“and yours is from busan,” chaeyoung retorts. she recalls the very vague memories of her father. the way his mouth wreathes the syllables in a way that reminds her of him, although she diminishes the comparison as quickly as it forms, the notion now inconceivable; her father would never raise a weapon against their child.

“so then your mother was a witch then? or maybe from your father’s bloodline?”

“that’s none of your business.”

“maybe the village elders took you in? you looked different compared to them.”

“really? did you have a good look at their faces before or after you put your blades and arrows in them?” chaeyoung snaps back.

your eyes flash with a wick of temperament before you lowered herself to her knees, grabbing her face. the small cut through her lips burning at her touch and the sudan proximity dives her heart to her stomach.

“you happen to forget who i am witch,” you growled, voice lowly with a rumble. “i only kept you alive so that i can get information out of you, not out of some sudden change of heart. i could care less about killing you–” you then squeeze her jaw hard; a punctuated threat—”so when i ask you about something, i expect an answer for them.”

chaeyoung scowls through your grip, cheeks pushed up high, tongue slurring her speech. “pigs. can’t. speak.”

your growls again with incense, quickly rising back to your feet. scrubbing her hand down the fabric of your trousers before jabbing a finger at her. “i won’t waste my energy with you.”

“then you have all the reason to kill me now,” chaeyoung spits again, glancing down at your long fingers, at the blood and gore that was embedded beneath your nails—and, my, isn’t that a rare sight? “you have big hands. you can snap my neck into two if you wanted to.”

“oh, believe me, witch,” you say, eyes shining. “i’m dreaming of it.”

you and chaeyoung glare into each other’s eyes in the fraught silence for several long, excruciating moments. chaeyoung’s heart rails painfully against the encapsulated walls of her chest, hackles raised as she watches your expression shift from murderous contempt to a more tortured resignation. you exhale deeply and pinch the bridge of your nose. “we’ll speak again tomorrow. and you will answer my questions. i don’t care what i’ll have to do to make you.”

“is there any guarantee you can give me beforehand so that you won’t slice my throat immediately after you get what you need?”

you send a smile to her that’s all teeth. “i guess that depends on what you give me.”

without a parting glance, you turn on your heel and walk past the fire and into a large tent on the other side. chaeyoung glowers after you, burning with an indignation even as her body shivers from the chilling winds. in a brief moment, she contemplated throwing your cloak and kicking it to her bound hands so that she can set it ablaze under her fingertips; but that would be ridiculous, even she knows this. at this rate she’ll freeze from hypothermia sooner that she’ll die beneath your blade. she has to play the long game and prioritize her mind over her pride in any hope of surviving this.

just then, another gust of an icy breeze rushes past, upsetting the flaps of the tent before settling a chill down to her marrow, shivering violently, instinctively ducking under your the furs of your cloak to shield herself from the cold, stifling down the urge of resentment for your inadvertent help. the acceptance of this felt way too piercing like the sting of betrayal.

survival, chaeyoung desperately reminds herself. survival over your pride. the wise women had drilled this lesson into her head for years now. a witch does what she has to in order to survive. they are such a hunted class; it was the only way that they can protect themselves.

she whispers this mantra to herself as the warmth from your cloak begins to pull her to sleep. survival over your pride. she almost starts to believe it.

chaeyoung wakes up the the sound of shuffling, light steps against the powdery snow with a wet crunch the next morning.

she moans softly, eyes fluttering as she pushes herself upward to stretch her back, only to freeze at the sight of a large wolf pacing in front of her. it’s a frightful looking creature, an eye gouged out and it’s red teeth, a lonely fang peeking over its lips. pink saliva drops from it’s muzzle, blood coating it’s tongue and pale grey fur. behind it, the hunter who held a knife to her throat—touched her, called her pretty, a skeptic whore—lies on their back, eyes glazed over, blood burbling from his open mouth.

their throat had been devoured through.

she inhales sharply as she whips her head away, wild gaze darting around frantically until she spots the circle of prowling wolves at the campfire, snouts buried in the bodies of the four other hunters, half-eaten and choking in their own blood, fingers twitching and mouths moving reflexively screaming. some actually looked to still be alive.

bile rose up from her stomach again, disgust trumping the venomous hatred. she’s stunned to realize that the sight of their violent demise does little to bring her any sense of relief, only horror.

but the brown-eyed one. the thought storms through her like a jolt of electricity. the one they called y/n. where is she?

she jerks forward like second nature, her raw wrists scraping against the coarse rope, but she doesn’t realize the sensation. her eyes scan the environment, seeking you out. maybe—

the sound of her struggling alerts the wolf in front of her. pausing before turing its giant head to her slowly and chaeyoung meets its glowing golden eye, feeling her blood run ice-cold. it steps closer, hackles raising, lips pulled up to reveal red teeth primed like daggers. she panics at the low growl that rumbles from its chest, yanking her wrists against the post with a renewed motivation. her range of motion is severely limited; she feels blood begin to smear around the rope as her flesh rips, but she doesn’t care. she can’t afford to think of anything but escaping.

“come on!” she spits out, swallowing down a sob. “i am not dying like this! i refuse to!”

the wolf snarls at her loud cursing, nipping away at the mountainous cloak, and chaeyoung jerks her wrists again, harder, only for the rope to cut deeper into her skin. she hisses through her gritted teeth as tears cling to her lashes, despair building up, clamping down like a vice around her throat. she peers up at the twinkling, merciless stars and whispers, “please.”

and then—suddenly, fatefully—a large, black-gloved hand grasps the wolf by its long sound and slits its throat before it can even fight back. the wolf’s vicious snarl putters off into a pained yelp as it collapses onto the floor, hot blood turning the snow red. chaeyoung’s vile gaze darts upward to see you panting with exertion, crimson splatter across your face and clothes. a heavy weight lifts off her chest, light as air, that she wasn’t convinced that it was relief; she couldn’t call it anything else either.

but then you step towards her, arms outstretched, daggers brandished and glinting red beneath the pale moonlight over you two. chaeyoung jerks, just as afraid as before.

“get away from me!” she screams, struggling frantically. “if you touch me, i’ll–!”

“you’ll what?!” you sneer, before ducking behind her. chaeyoung tenses, anticipating a stab in the back, but is surprised when she feels her binds loosen instead. the rope snaps, cut through, and she yanks her arms towards the front of her body. smeared blood covered her wrists, stark against her fair pale skin, and she smothers a wince as she rolls them, every motion sending shockwaves of pain stinging down her nervous system. she could barely feel her muscles.

you move to her front, eyes catching her mutilated flesh. “you cut yourself.”

“because you tied me up and i was trying to escape!” chaeyoung snaps, flustered. “that wolf was going to eat me and—and why did you kill it? y-you saved–”

“for the same reason why i killed all the other ones.” you gesture behind your shoulder, and her eyes widen spotting the slow-bleeding bodies, arrows lodged in their sides. she didn’t even notice it at all.

you turn back, and it’s then that chaeyoung notices the dark, wet stretch of fabric over your shoulder, the puncture wounds of teeth marks against your exposed skin. she gasps loudly, surging towards you instinctively. “you’re wounded!”

you grasp her hand, squeezing it tightly till the bone creaks. “don’t even think about touching me,” you snarl.

“you’ll bleed to death.”

“and i’d rather die than be touched by your demon magic.”

“it’s not demon magic!” chaeyoung argues, before narrowing her eyes, pressing closer. you tighten your grip again, but she isn’t fazed. she’s freezing cold and injured and she can’t move without feeling like needles poking beneath her skin, but all it does is solidify her resolve. survival over pride.

“you need me,” chaeyoung says. “your hunters have been slaughtered, you’ve exterminated the closest thing we have to a nearby civilization only a couple hours ago, and you’ll die from either the cold or blood loss before you can find anyone else to help you. so let me.”

you glare at her, brilliant eyes flashing with a hint of loathing. she can basically see your internal debate, and how your mind wrestles at the thought between throttling her to the ground or taking up on her offer. finally, and with a pointed squeeze, you drop chaeyoung’s wrist and sneer. “do what you need to do.”

chaeyoung blinks, startled by your acquiescence, but reacts quickly. she settles her cold hand over the slope of your neck and closes her eyes, reaching inside herself for that shimmering pool of magic, as vital as the beat of her heart. her lips move, and beneath her palm, the skin on you starts to stitch together, healing the torn flesh underneath. the effort saps most of her energy and when she’s done, she limps over you, exhausted and freezing again.

your chest heaves, in a surprise shock, gaze still on her with wide eyes. chaeyoung swallows tightly, voice croaking.

“do you still plan to kill me now?”

the silence stretches the air again, too long for comfort, but not enough to be anything stupefying. your hands find her shoulders, and you wrench her back, gazing down at her, everything about her was a big question mark, a debate in morality. chaeyoung’s surprised as well, then, when you stand up and tug her up with you. you grab your cloak, tucking it tight beneath chaeyoung’s chin, before swooping down and lifting her over your shoulder. chaeyoung grapples against you, stunned when she feels you place her hands around the nape of your neck.

“i thought you were going to–” she gasps out.

“are you so used to deceit that you actually expect that i’d kill you after you just saved my life?”

chaeyoung blinks, shaking her head numbly. despite how predictable and simple minded you and your hunters were, she couldn’t make sense of you. “i-i thought you were going to. you wanted me dead.”

“i still do want you dead,” you say easily, and it cuts into her scattered thoughts like a swift blade. “but then i decide. your death belongs to me. not to some rabid animal, and not to the cold.”

yet, the cold is what is consuming the both of you now. dragging in her back down from the clouds of confusion and into the hellish earth with you.

“then do it,” chaeyoung whispers dimly.

you shift her into your arms, carrying her bridal style. “just you wait.”

you were forced to stop not even an hour later when you see chaeyoung turning blue.

chaeyoung doesn’t know why, exactly; she stopped feeling the cold about half an hour ago, which he insists is a problem when she haltingly informs you later, a tongue a mere stone in her mouth and her voice slurring.

you set her down against a tree when you see a small cave that will be good enough to keep you guys away from the harsh elements. chaeyoung watches you, dazed, eyelids heavy as you build a fire fast with just scattered pieces of dry wood and skinny sticks. once fanned to a successful height, you turn to her.

“do you feel warmer now?”

chaeyoung could barely move her lips. she wasn’t any warmer, but she wasn’t any colder either. her blood drifting along like ice in her veins, sluggish and thick.

“are you ignoring me, witch?” you snap. she makes a reply, but your annoyed expression suddenly shifts, shuffling closer and leaning down to reach inside your cloak so that you can touch your hands. you seethe through your teeth at the temperature of her skin, your rough palms skating past her scarred wrists to rest on her upper arms.

“you’re as cold as ice,” you mumble. “and you’re so stiff. you should be shivering like a newborn fawn.”

chaeyoung moans softly, shifting her head against the tree as her lips purse, eyes getting heavier and heavier. a sinking drowsiness tempting her to sleep, but before she was able to closer her eyes, you swat her cheek lightly with your fingers, holding a stern expression.

“stay awake. you have hypothermia,” you say, sliding your hands up and down chaeyoung’s numb legs.

“i…could’ve told y-you…”

“then why didn’t you say something to me before?” you snap with a frustration in your voice. chaeyoung notices that you’re a volatile person, your aura generous with an explosive punch. in the span of an hour, she loses track of the multitude of things she’s heard you condemn and curse at.

“cause i’d rather the cold…kill me than you,” chaeyoung slurs out lazily.

“that’s a bold lie. you’d rather kill me first.” you say as you pick her up again, setting her down on your lap in front of the fire. chaeyoung wants to resist this hold, revolted by the proximity, but the mantra of the village elders comes back to her mind again: survival over your pride. she barely has a choice to make in this.

chaeyoung leans against you, allowing to tuck her face into your shoulder. your hands slide down to her boots, fingers dipping over the lining of fur, testing its viable warmth before rubbing them up and down her legs. when she begins to shiver violently, you drape the cloak around the both of you and blow hot air into her icy hands. chaeyoung mumbles nothing but complete gibberish against the curve of your neck, struggling to make sense of your actions and with irritants in her body’s appreciation of them.

“w-why are you…doing this?” chaeyoung asks, forcing her stiff lips to move.

“doing what?”

“keeping m-me warm. s-saving me f-from the wolf. is…it b-because you’re th-th-thankful?”

“thankful?” you spit in disbelief. your motions going against chaeyoung’s shoulder in a jerked fashion, belying his wave of anger. “i could never feel gratitude towards a witch.”

“then w-what?”

“you said it first. we need each other to survive. i’d recommend you start worrying about your fate the second you suspect you’ve outlived your usefulness.”

chaeyoung feels a resentment boiling in her chest, appalled by the objectifying language you spat out–-like she’s an elderly bloodhound she’ll have to take down—but it doesn’t surprise her either; you hardly even think she’s human.

but despite the growing instinct to dismount herself from you and lose her battle to the elements, chaeyoung knows that you were right. that she is. the mountains in the dead of the winter weather was merciless for either of them to survive on their own. if she could grab the dagger from her belt and slit her throat right now, her thirst for revenge and vengeance might be sted, but her fate would already be sealed; she won’t last a week out in the cold without you..

a substantial part of herself almost didn’t care about it anymore, the satisfaction of her over your dead body would just be enough.

“get some sleep,” you whisper, oblivious to her internal conflict. “we’re gonna have a long day tomorrow.”

everything inside chaeyoung rails to do the complete opposite, if only to displease the needs towards you, but she’s too exhausted to be defiant, and the fire and bumpy slide of your fingers against her skin felt nice. her head drops, slipping down to your chest and within minutes. she’s dozed off to sleep along with you.

the next morning she wakes up in the cave, bundled up to her ears in both of their cloaks, positioned against the rocky wall. you squat in front of the fire, pacing away from the mouth of the cave. when you notice that chaeyoung’s awake, you pick up a rabbit leg and brush it against her nose.

“can you move?” you ask burly, “are you any warmer?”

chaeyoung blinks, surprised at the caring question. the offer, and wriggles around a little bit. she was pleased to find that her blood actually feels like normal blood again, and reaches out, taking the food from your hand. she turns the leg over curiously with lips pursed.

“don’t worry, it isn’t poisioned.” you scoff.

“why should i believe you?”

you then abruptly snatch her wrist. chaeyoung flinches, expecting your grip to tighten up, almost to break bone, but all you do is lean forward to take a bite out of her rabbit leg. your jaw works as you chew while leaning back, eyebrows raised as if to ask, there? is that what you wanted?

chaeyoung couldn’t think of a proper response. dazed, she brings the food to her mouth.

“if you can walk,” you say, as you eat. “we should start moving. i would like to make the most of the light that we have for today.”

she swallows before asking, “for what?”

“what do you mean, ‘for what?’ we’re stranded. we need to find some place other than here closer to the kingdom.”

“and what happens after that? do we go our separate ways? or do we kill each other like civilized people?”

you bare your teeth into a mean grin. “i suppose that depends on how i feel when that moment comes.”

chaeyoung frowns, leaning against the wall, unmoved by your cruelty. under your cloak, she attempts to wiggle her toes, frustrated by the effort. “i still can’t walk,” she mumbles, ashamed, “not really at all. my limbs still feel too weak.”

you shrug, gnawing on your own rabbit leg. “i’ll carry you.”

“are you sure you’ll want to?” she snaps, looking at you. her fault, she thinks, self-pity morphing into indignation, depsisting you anew. it’s her fault. “you don’t want to chop my legs off first? just to make me an easier weight to lug around?”

“choose your words wisely, witch,” you warn, eyes glittering with malice, the thrill of an enticing challenge, if only she’ll invite her to go that far. “if you tempt me with more exhilarating ideas like that, i might have to listen to you.”

chaeyoung glowers darkly at you. a million insults running through her mind, each more rancid than the other, but he obvious revelment in her rage keeps her from speaking it. you had enough victories over her, she decides.

instead, she turns away from you, gnawing a piece of the rabbit’s thigh into her mouth.

the first day of ‘real’ traveling through the harsh tundra. nothing but back and forth of bursts of trudging through the snow. it was nothing but a chore for you to ensure that chaeyoung was arm, heating her up when needed, all that in between carrying her. that was the deal. she also notices how quickly susceptible to the cold that left you, the instinct to help you leaves her unsettled but all leaves a simple justification: survival your over pride. i still need her.

two days pass and chaeyoung feels somewhat recovered. moving her body more and more idly and she’s able to walk farther distances without you having to sweep into your arms every time she cracks in the cold. it was already difficult as it is, food being scarce, the winds pinching away at the skin. the both of you realize the condition that you’re in and she’s the first one to bring it up.

“we’re lost aren’t we.”

you stop, the ground breaking under your feet. already, she can sense the annoyance. “what?”

“we’re lost,” she says again, looking around with an arm flared out, “we’ve passed this tree five times now.”

you face her irritably, “i know how to move around these woods. we’re fine.”

“you’re so unbearably blind.” chaeyoung protests, “have you forgotten that we’re stranded on a mountain, and in the middle of nowhere? we don’t have clothes, no shelter, and we can’t even scrape up food up for–”

“i’m a fucking hunter!”

“well you can’t hunt now! the animals around here are hibernating! the only reason that we’re still alive is that we’ve been lucky to not die yet!”

“no.” you walk over to chaeyoung, up close. she could see the snowflakes petering over your long hair. “we’re only alive because of me. i was the one who lit the fire. i hunted for food. and i was the one who found the cave.”

“and if we both die it’ll be because of you.” the wind blows against them, hair whipping up shivering, ducking into you reflexively as the sole shield radiating body and warmth. you oblige easily, raising a hand to cover chaeyoung’s face from the chill. the hypothermia was becoming more apparent, you both needed to depend on each other.

“okay,” your voice rumbling against her cheek, “i’ll find us something soon, hopefully.”

chaeyoung doesn’t thank you however, the shame was over her head greatly. you step away to start walking and she follows along just after.

it had already turned to dusk when the two of you stumbled at a cabin. the blizzard was already hindering your vision, you drag chaeyoung by the wrist, heaving all that you could despite how slowly she was moving.

in a wave of positive relief, the door wasn’t bolted down and the knob easily surrendered to your grip. shifting chaeyoung to a bridal carry as you walk past the door frame, she slumps alonsgide your chest, stars in her eyes spotting the large bed with a steep pile of fur blankets and a fireplace.

“god,” chaeyoung sighs out with a smile tugging her lips. “w-we might actually s-s-s-survive this.”

you drop chaeyoung to the ground suddenly, a startled yelp as she steadies herself on her feet, still weak.

“you had to remind me that you’re a skeptic just like that.” you mutter, pushing behind her.

chaeyoung primes a scowl amidst the passing thought of you forgetting and asks cooly, “d-did i offend your high sens-s-siblities?”

“you’re funny.” you snort kneeling at the fireplace, fingers trembling as you attempt to get a fire starting.

“you m-m-might have h-hyopthermia,” she says.

“and if i do, then you do too. it seems my cloak and your thin nightgown did little to protect you from the cold.”

“n-not my fault for being underd-dressed. i was ya-yanked off my bed in the m-middle of the n-night.”

you roll your eyes.

chaeyoung watches you work in the howling silence. you had found the discarded logs in a set corner of the room and tossed them into the pit. you worked fast however, lighting a spark beneath your flint and steel, fanning the embers until a steady flame appeared in the thin air.

“this place reeks.” you say, leaning back while chaeyoung huffs.

“it’s y-you. your clothes stink.”

“because i’ve let you use them to keep you warm. i’ve been doing all the work here.” you say, standing up. you sniff the collar on your back, chaeyoung nearly laughs at your srcunched face in disgust. “you are right, our clothes are dirty.”

“i can w-wash them tomorrow.”

“good.”

chaeyoung nods and turns around, scanning the darkinteriror. there was a simple rack placed against the wall–probably for clothes and other essential wear, there were some utensils. no kitchen but the hearth, but after fighting against the cold with the food being cooked over a small fire, even that seems something worth celebrating. she smiles, turing around to face you again.

“s-say, you think tomorrow you’ll b-be able to–”

your shirt was off.

she wasn’t sure why the image of you strikes her acutely as it did, but it was there and you were shirtless. your black coat, knit sweater, the layered tunics, and your sweaty bra lay at your feet, leaving you in your pants and boots, discarding those right after. when you catch chaeyoung’s eye, she twists away, blood boiling under her skin.

“w-what are you doing?!” she demands loudly, flustered that her head is ringing. “why are y- why are you na- are you really–?”

“because our clothes are wet and we’ll both die of hypothermia if we don’t warm our bodies up quickly,” you simply reply, “and you did say the smell.”

“i-i can just wash t-them!”

“with what!? we don’t have soap.”

“i can use my–”

“i’m not an idiot like the hunters i brought with me, witch. i know that your magic needs an output—your hands—and something solid. you can’t just will things with air alone. it’s either you get your clothes off or we both freeze to death. the nightgown you’re wearing doesn't do much as it already is.”

chaeyoung stares at the wall, fingers bunching up against her sleeves, which are half frozen and stark cold. even with the fire gradually heating the small cabin, she’s still shivering, fingers hinted purple. it’s a decision she has to make.

“fine,” she snaps soon after, reaching for the hem of her gown, “but if-if you look, i’ll–”

“my heart won’t dance for a desire to see you barren, witch. in fact—” you toss a large pelt of fur at her, making her gasp at the weight of it. “cover yourself when you’re done.”

she frowns but nods silently, glancing over her shoulder to see if you’re looking (you weren’t) and pulls the gown over her head, tugging the socks and underwear off as well. covering herself with the fur, exhaling through her closed teeth. when she approaches the fire, you look over to her, ears slightly hinted with pink, lips and eyebrows clasped together on themselves at what chaeyoung was doing.

“are you seriously trying to warm yourself in front of the fire? have you no knowledge of proper warming techniques?”

“what?” chaeyoung asks defensively.

you sit up, the blanket draping to your waist, exposing your skin and the tailored muscle of your upper body. “we need to share body heat to stay warm.”

chaeyoung blinks rapidly, flustered. “but we’re naked.”

“that’s kind of the whole point of this thing.”

“if this is some attempt to–”

“what?” your eyes flash at her challenge, daring to say what she can bring herself to think straight, and after a few moments, she turns away and sighs out.

“alright,” she starts off, crawling towards you, keeping the large fur on her body with a skin tight grip. “but if you have the slightest thought of—”

“i’d rather feed myself to the wolves than to touch you.” you spit out in frustration. chaeyoung feels a small hint of dismay. your disgust is a doting reminder that you don’t consider her to be a human being.

the thought chills chaeyoung even after she’s snuggles herself beneath the covers. her skin easing up with shivers, startled when you grab her shoulder.

“relax,” you say, inching closer. your eyes were shining with utmost intensity. “this is how we survive together.”

you huddle closer, your hand slipping through her naked waist and dragging chaeyoung up against you, pressing chests together. a punched out exhale and trembles with so much force that she feels the vibration to her bones. your skin was cold like hers, but there's a small relief with the contact. chaeyoung knows this is how we survive together, and places her hand on your neck.

you tense at the contact, growling with a flush of pink on your cheeks. “what are you—?”

chaeyoung hushes you. “i’m warming you u-up, mean hunter.”

you zip your lips after that, eyes getting hazy and after a few seconds, you tap chaeyoung’s hand off.

the heat loosens your limbs as it grows between you two. chaeyoung sighs, her wet hair brushing against your neck as she shifts. you whisper, “l/n.”

“what?”

“my name, y/n l/n.”

she already knew that though. “okay.” chaeyoung huffs out.

“what’s yours? or should i keep calling you witch.?”

chaeyoung doesn’t want you to call her anything; names carry so much weight; putting a face to it, making them stand out and different than others, but the warmth must’ve softened her under the covers because she answers your question. “son chaeyoung.”

“son chaeyoung.” you say her name slowly, accent hugging the syllables the same way her father’s did. the comparison seems too similar.

within minutes after speaking names, you both fall asleep.

you wake up the morning after the first night with the witch pressed to your chest, her arms wrapped around your middle, and cheek pressed flat against your breast. her hair on the crown of her head tickles your chin.

you swat it away with your hands, negating the spike of panic trickling down your spine, and you shift, trying to extract yourself from her grip. chaeyoung hums softly in protest, clinging to you tighter as her eyes flutter open, long lashes shadowing her cheeks. her gaze is half-lidded, exhausted, but once she notices who she’s clinging onto, she pulls away from you as you both sit up on the large bed.

the awkward silence filling the space between you two, curdling thoughts in your head, but before you could utter something, chaeyoung turned around, her small mouth pressed to a frown.

“i need animal fat and some wood.” she says, before you could even conjure up a good morning—which you wouldn't have, “so you go hunt today.”

you eyes squint as you fix your seated position. chaeyoung scoots away to the corner of the bed, her furs covering her slipping beneath the slope of her petite breasts. an action which earns a warning look from you.

“what’s the use of these items?”

“to make soap for the laundry. you’ll have to use your dirty clothes still, but the sooner you get me these things, the better.”

“how do you expect to make soap from fat and bark?”

“the elders have taught me everything i know.”

you get up from the bed without looking at chaeyoung, not fazed by the resentment, shivering as you cross over to the lonely rack pilfered with all of the dirty clothes that you’ve worn for the past couple of days. the smell still penetrating through your nostrils, she was right about getting these clothes washed as soon as possible.

after tugging the heavy jacket over your toned body, you feel chaeyoung’s gaze lasering on you, causing you to turn around and raise a brow at her.

“anything else?”

“try to get a few animals. i’m gonna need more than one to make enough soap for both of us and our clothes.”

“that all?”

“come back quickly, we don’t have any food still.” a second passes before she grumbles another lasting addition. “it’s also cold, so it’s not safe for you to be out that long.”

you feel your lips twitching—to a frown and surely, “you sound like my old nana.”

chaeyoung keeps a straight face cooly. “go.”

you obey while rolling your eyes out the door. slinging a bow and quiver of arrows as you stepped out to the frigid cold, wrapping your cloak more deeply with a drawn out exhale. the thought of tossing the witch chaeyoung out here in the snow for her to suffer as well, but the thought was pointless, nearly impractical.

as you walk into the forest about twenty minutes away from the cabin, your mind falls into a calming state, a serenity as such with every calming breath leaving your mouth. ears perking to any sudden sound while brandishing your weapon. your experience breaking through the many lessons taught by your father and late brother before they both died. the image of them passing through your mind as the anger from the old memory rises up again.

a rabbit comes into you line of vision, looking over a small snowy hill with its head moving in all directions, leaping away when it sees you, but you were faster with the arrow shot lodging into its eye.

“one, but let’s pray that there isn’t a bear nearby.”

chaeyoung had instructed you to not be out for long, but there's the thought that you and her will be staying in the cabin longer than anticipated, so by getting familiar with the present surroundings around your makeshift home was the more logical idea. everything once barren with life was covered in snow. the cold was unforgiving as it is, a beauty that you could admire.

the new area is opened up more when you see a frozen lake, placed in the middle of the dead trees. crows surround the lake, flying around before disappearing into the white sky.

you notice another nearby bird and rabbit, drawing both of your arrows to shoot them at the same time. the bag behind you was now filled with various pieces of animal corpses and wood, the gusts of wind not letting up as you gripped your cloak to ease your shivering.

“i wished i could be back home, not dealing with any of this ‘life test’.” you say out loud, looking up at the sky and smiling scornfully.

the thoughts of going back home once all of this was still a hopeful premonition you prayed to see through, but you’re reminded of the current situation with chaeyoung still waiting for you back in the cabin.

gut twisting, gazing at the frozen ice guarding the lake, wondering what the witch was doing. if she was keeping herself warm by the fire, waiting for your return, while you did the dirty work. you growl at the idea, opposed to be heeding to her calls. you swear to finish all of this by making her suffer when the moment presents itself.

and you will complete the mission, to get the information about the location of the other witches from her before doing the same thing you did to chaeyoung’s village almost an entire week ago.

it all could’ve been so simple; just slit her throat and leave her. going back home brings a smile to your lips, you could already picture the look on her face, how her hands will claw your shoulders, begging for her life to be spared. the dagger that you used for the wolves and other witches you’ve slain will be the sole tool–pinning her against the floor and then—

you crack open the door and stomp off the snow from your sleek boots, hearing a soft hum coming form the fireplace at the other end. the song preaching about peace and tranquil, hopes of good times coming back sung by a bright pleasant voice that stops all of your motions.

that’s all stopped suddenly since you startled the witch–chaeyoung–as she faced you, her black eyes wide, color piercing through the cheeks. she sits in front of the fireplace, still naked in the bundle of furs, still embarrassed, to no surprise.

you fight off the urge to smile. ignoring the moment to relish in your delusional madness.

“you sing like a pretty angel.” you greet with a sheepish tone in your voice, making her irritated automatically.

“i appreciate the compliment.” chaeyoung scowls at you.

you step inside more, expression miffed. “i wasn’t…you think i was teasing?”

“weren’t you?”

“yes,” you immediately answer. your face shifts again, “i was actually, you calming baby beast.”

“don’t call me that!” she snaps at you, flushing down to her feet, before turning back to the fireplace. she stares at the flame, senses up to eleven as you approach her, holding your bag to her. she takes it, fingers hitting each other for a second, gasping at the sudden cold on our gloves, facing you as she smooths her hand under the sleeves of your cloak and up your wrist.

“you’re ice cold,” a concerned tone in her voice and stands up. she walks you to the bed, hand on your stomach, dropping to the bed as she pushes you to face the ceiling. you stare at her dazed, chaeyoung placing her palms on the sides of your neck. closing her eyes to focus, she pulses a surge of warmth beneath the hands, sending that same heat to your body. you sigh out a harsh sound, once chaeyoung pull away from you she was satisfied with her work, noticing the pain wincing on your face.

“thank you.” you were able to croak out.

chaeyoung nods, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks, stepping away. clinging to her fur tightly reminded of the fact that she was still naked under them, and a lot colder now that she’s used her magic; warming you up with her own body heat.

you sense this, shooting up to your feet and headed to the same rack that held your clothes before you left this morning, fishing out a garment that was printed with strawberries all over it. she looks at the childish looking fabric as you wrap it over her neck, ears pink as she meets your eyes again.

“i saw this before i left to hunt.” you say with a low voice, “you also have less clothes compared to me. this should help you a little bit at least.” a few heartbeats pass before you ask, “are you warm?”

“yes.” chaeyoung replies, hardly uttering from the lump in her throat in addition to the churning turmoil unsettling in her gut.

you nod. it’s a stoic movement, as if you were unfamiliar with your own act of kindness. you step off to teh side and let her pass, looking away from the new space of proximity.

“i’ll make the soap now.”

“good. let me know if you need more things from outside.” you say to her without even looking.

“you need a bath,” chaeyoung says, almost immediately after she finished up their laundry. “we both do.”

you look up from your plateful of rabbit, a hint of bread crumbs on your lips. the clothes were drying over the rack, near the fire, so they sat with thick furs covering them.

“you’re saying that i smell?” you ask.

“horribly, you have no idea how hard it is to sleep next to you.”

“didn’t look like that to me earlier this morning.”

chaeyoung scowls but leaves you to finish the rest of your dinner. once finished, and the clothes have finally dried up, you take the large bucket and step outside. five minutes later you come back inside with the bucket filled with snow and sit back down while they wait. “you gonna go first?”

“no.” chaeyoung says instantly. “you have to.”

“why me?”

“because you’re the one doing the labor.” and hunting, building the fires, carried me around the wilderness for five days, chaeyoung thinks but won’t actually admit. a thought that shouldn’t have crossed her mind but it did. “you smell worse compared to me.”

your eyes squint in offense, but recede any sort of argument against her. she watches you sniff your arm when you think she looked away for a second, nodding after in agreement.

when the water in the bucket stars to boil, dragging it away from the fireplace, waiting for it to cool down. once at a bearable temperature, you strip. chaeyoung’s cheeks shoot red and immediately turns toward the small dining table. you had a terrible habit of doing that in front of her. any given moment to change, you never gave her a heads up.

“this bucket is a little small baby beast.” you grumble, chaeyoung fights the response of stop calling me that–she’s tried. no luck, you were attached to that nickname now–turning around to say, “not a bucket technically, more of a tub and–”

she stops herself with a muted giggle, pressing her fingers to lips. you stare at her, your arms submerged in the water, knees peeking through the surface and your shoulders shuugged up to your ears. as she just thought, you were a little too tall with muscle to actually fit inside.

“don’t–”

“i wasn’t laughing, nothing that you do is amusing enough.”

“then how come you’re smiling at me right now?”

“i’m not–” cutting yourself off when she notices something, pulling her hand away at the new question in her head. “are you not going to wash your hair?”

“i just did.”

“it doesn’t look like it touched the water.”

“i put some water in it.”

“with soap?”

“just water.”

chaeyoung cringes while standing up. “you’re an idiot, you have long hair and you don’t know how to wash it?”

“i know how to!” you retort. “i just don’t like sleeping with wet hair.”

“well you’re not going to sleep if you don’t was your hair.”

“alright!” you snap, reaching for the small bar of soap and rubbing it in between your palms. “are you happy now?”

“not exactly what i meant.” chaeyoung replies while watching you weave your fingers through your hair with the soapy substance. she steps closer to you, dipping her fingers into the water to wet them a little bit, picking up the bar of soap and runs her fingers through your hair.

with the initial stiffness, you relax into her easing touch, leaning towards her when she rubs her thumbs against your temples. the water was more tepid now than five minutes ago, so with a deep breath, chaeyoung draws heat to her palms, scraping lightly against your scalp, sighing out in relief.

chaeyoung’s fingers slide down to the nape of your neck, massaging the tense muscle group there. you slouch even more, mouth parte, and she starts to take note of the lines on your face: the high brow and sharp cheekbones, the pink curve of your mouth, and the flawless sculpt of your jaw. the roots of your hair on the top of your head were healthy to chaeyoung’s shock.

she also doesn’t recall seeing someone like you growing up and going to many different villages of different witches, but you really were a beautiful woman, a shame that beauty was wasted on you.

“you’ve been feeling my face for too long, witch.” you slur out, fingers still tickling your scalp as chaeyoung clicks her tongue.

“i think i’d rather drown you like this, idiot hunter.”

“y/n.” you whipser mindlessly, before holding yourself back of speaking another word. once washing the suds away from your hair, chaeyoung wipes her hands in the fur. you look at her, blinking the dreamy layer in your eyes, and it was here that the reality of her actions begin to brew a change of heart. she turns away, staring at her kneecaps.

you get up from the large bucket and dry yourself with a stretch of fabric that chaeyoung found while you were out. after putting back on the clean, dry clothes, you take the bucket back outside and return with a fresh pile of snow for chaeyoung’s bath.

why did i do that? chaeyoung thinks slently, embarrassment through the roof within her. i didn’t need to do that.

just minutes later you come back inside, placing the bucket near the fire again. you turn to seek chaeyoung again, finding her on the floor clearly shivering.

“are you cold?” you ask, reaching for her stack of furs.

“a little b-bit.”

“you’re freezing.” you observe, covering her with the pelt of fur before placing your palm on the flat side of her cheek.

“it’s the fire isn’t it.”

“no i-it’s my magic.”

“your magic?”

“when i-i warm my palms, i have to use my o-own body h-heat to use it. making me a l-lot more colder t-then for a c-couple of h-hours.”

your face becomes slack jawed, “so that’s why you were cold when i came back earlier?”

chaeyoung nods, your brows furrow, and you pull the bucket away from the fire. you place your hand on the outer rim, letting the hot water burn your fingers. “you should’ve waited for me.”

“i had t-to. we need each other remember? i can’t survive if you’re suffering from hypothermia too.”

“this shouldn’t be an issue, chaeyoung.”

“well for now it is, but i need you to be healthy for me in order to get better.”

“and i need you to be warm for me.”

chaeyoung’s throat closes in on itself. the crackling flame was all that was heard in the room. its light emiitng just enough for her eyes to see your harsh muscle and shadowed outlines, but your eyes were soft and gleaming. dark brown.

as always since they first met, she was the one to turn away from you first.

you sigh, tapping the bucket, “your bath is ready baby beast. hurry up so that we can go to bed, it’s late.”

the days pass by and the routine was oh so easy to fall into, nothing else mattered–but your own survival.

you get up in the mornings while chaeyoung is still asleep to build the fire up so that when you leave to go hunting again, the cabin would be already warm for her when she wakes up. to keep themselves busy, she would make breakfast next to the fireplace that they eat together on the floor.

if there was a small shortage of food, you’d go out to hunt. if the clothes were dirty, chaeyoung would be the one to wash them. a tear in the fabric, she sews them. regular housekeeping duties as the harsh winter weather starts to let up little by little, day by day.

on one occasion, you bring back a pocketful of nuts, probably stolen from a squirrel or something of that degree, and it excites chaeyoung beyond all reason.

she’s enjoying this far more than she should, but it was so simple to think about.

“you’re from the kingdom?” chaeyoung asks, one morning while still snuggled up in bed.

it was early that the sun was breaking through the peaks, a calming white light glaring through the windows. you lean up on your elbow, cheek against your fist as you softly smile at her. “have you ever been to the mainland? or a city for that matter?”

“no.” chaeyoung admits, unashamed from the snickering coming out of your mouth soon after. “i grew up in the mountains.”

“for all of your life?”

“pretty much, but with my parents of course.”

“i figured.” you smugly say, rubbing your finger against the beauty mark under the right side of her bottom lip. “you didn’t look like the others back in the village.”

chaeyoung looks away from your gaze for a moment, recalling the image of little diana’s body. a wave of anger building up from the sentimental moment, but she doesn’t want to think about it now.

“they took me in after my parents died.” she says to you. you expression shifts and you lean a little more closer with the cover still enveloping you.

“how old were you when that happened?”

“i was nine. a sudden plague sweeped the town i was living at and it nearly took everyone. at the same time, a wise woman found me and sensed my potential power, so she asked me to come with her.”

“that must’ve been hard.”

“it was, but i didn’t have anywhere to go.”

you stare, a strange glint dashing at your eyes. after a moment, “i lost my mother too around that age.”

“oh.” chaeyoung breathes out, leaning up to match you. “was she also caught with the sickness too?”

you sit up, gaze still locked with hers, face not contorting a single emotion at all, “not exactly.”

sitting on the edge of the bed, you grip the frame with your fingers, chaeyoung’s resenmnt tolls through her again; she didn’t like how you’d get suddenly depressed when you were just simply opening up about your life to her. it was unbearable to watch sometimes.

she sits next to you, touching your arm. when you look back at her, she asks, “tell me more about this kingdom.”

“why would you want to know?”

“beacuse i want to hear what it’s like, the mountains here are the only thing i know around here.”

“well,” you huff out, “where do i even start? we have houses like yours, but built properly, people in the kingdom have similar jobs like yours; eating, cleaning, trading. it’s all protected by this wall that keeps most of the outside threats away.

“really? it’s the same as the village?”

you smirk, “yes, sort of, but it’s kind of like the same concept really.” you say, clutching your leg as you stare up at the ceiling.

she hums with a slight giddy to her attitude, you then ask, “so what about you? what’s it like in the village?”

chaeyoung purses her lips thinking about the question, trying to not say anything stupid, “well, when i wasn’t focused on my craft, i was always keeping an eye on the younger girls.”

“your village was all girls?”

“yes,” chaeyoung admits, blushing a bit. “in fact, you’re the first woman hunter that i’ve seen as a proper leader of their pack.”

“really?”

“mhm” she hums, pressing her jaw against her knee, eyes trailing off your jawline. “i’ve always wondered about something.”

“what is it?”

“are there other female witch hunters like you?”

“well,” you start off by saying, “i’ve heard the rumors but to my knowledge i’m the only one around here.”

“oh.”

“you seem shocked.”

“i’m not.” she says, shaking her head. “you’re a lot more mature than the disgusting men you had as your fellow hunters.”

“i appreciate the compliment, those men were dumbasses towards you after all.”

chaeyoung scoffs at what you said, gazing into your features again as the light started breaking more and more into the cabin.

“we should start the day early shouldn’t we?” you say, grabbing a shirt from one of the posts on the bed and slipping it on, “i still have the three birds that you can cook from yesterday, that’s our breakfast.”

“okay.”

“i’ll also get more firewood outside too, we’re almost out.”

“okay.” chaeyoung says again, but before you start to head out she adds, “i’m glad that it’s you that i’m stuck with and not those men.”

your lips part for a moment, “i’m glad that we’ve survived for this long together too.”

“so what about–”

you toss the strawberry printed fabric towards chaeyoung on the bed, cheeks hinting with a small pink facing away from her, “you’re gonna need this.”

“baby beast.”

chaeyoung moans softly under the covers, turning away from your hand and tries to go back to sleep. the hand at her shoulder continues to shake her more persistently, “wake up, i wanna show you something.”

she huffs out and rolls to her left side, facing you, eyes fluttering open to meet yours. you smile and lean over her, bruising the wispy bangs from her face. “are you gonna get out of bed now?”

“why?” she asks, nearly whining. your grin widens at the sound of her tickling your ear drums.

“there’s a lake here i want you to see.”

“the lake?” chaeyoung stretches out to see you shuffle over to the other end of the cabin, fetching her cloak and boots, shoving her feet inside the warm objects while wrapping the cloak over her shoulders, watching you pat down the cloak and tie the strings at her chest. getting the small strawberry printed fabric for her to carry in her pocket.

“what’s there at the lake?” she asks you, rubbing her eyes again to make her more awake.

“nothing special.” you say, but your eyes were beaming with pure excitement like a child, “i just want you to see it like i did.”

in a few minutes, both of you are properly dressed and out the door. despite the chilling air, chaeyoung sigs when she steps into the snowy ground, looking up to inhale the sharp, crisp air, watching her breath materialize into a small fog in front of her. she missed going outside because of the lack of body temperature and proper clothing.

you didn’t like chaeyoung to be out for more than actually needed, but the worst part of the winter had eased up by this point so it’s not that dangerous to get out of the cabin for once.

leading her into the first, chaeyoung is astonished by the sight, the trees arching above her head that she couldn’t see the branches on them. the white snow glittering beneath her feet, reflecting off the sunlight beaming down on them. the view was majestic, and a sight that she wishes she had forced herself up right away at first to see earlier.

you take her hand, chaeyoung looks up to see your impatience, dragging her along the trail, making her almost jog slightly because of your long graceful strides.

“why are we walking fast? won’t we scare the animals?”

“yes, but i’m technically hunting them so it wouldn’t even matter. anyway, better for us to make noise to scare a wolf or bear rather than staying quiet and run into one.”

“and if we did?”

you smirk, “then i’d kill it myself to get a new coat.” you say with eagerness.

chaeyoung doesn’t have the courage to tell you that you’d likely die before pulling that off.

you and her both slow down your pace once guiding her past the slew of trees. with your hands on chaeyoung’s shoulders, you push her past the short bushes and into an open space. her view takes in the frozen lake in the center, sprinkled with snow in different patches across the icy layer. she sees a lonely cub sliding across the lake, clearly lost looking for its mother.

you lean in close, your breath tickling the hair on her nape, “do you see that little bear cub standing there?”

“i do.”

the cub then runs away funnily, reaching the other side of the lake with ease before disappearing into the sea of trees. “it reminds me of you, baby beast.”

chaeyoung then rips her gaze away from the sight to look up at you, staring down at her, the shine her eyes becoming more and more familiar, almost as if she’s used to your teasing, then glancing away from you after. her body warms up suddenly, but not to the point to diminish the shiver that rolls across her skin when another wave of wind blows in again, making you turn chaeyoung into your arms.

“cold?”

“i–”

you didn’t even bother waiting for her answer, hands sliding beneath her cloak and around her waist. her nightgown bunching up between your palms, sliding them up and down, making chaeyoung flush up quickly, turning her head to your throat and closing her eyelids against your neck.

“how’s that feel?”

“better.” chaeyoung whispers against your skin.

she wants to break away from your grasp. the fact that you’re holding her and she’s allowing it should be ringing alarms in her head, she’s supposed to push you away, but for some reason–she can’t find a reason why.

“i think we should head back now. the cold is getting to you again.”

“it isn’t, but—” a sudden realization comes back to her mind, glazing at the mound of snow before meeting your eyes, hands clasping yours through the thick woolen gloves. “can i show you something before we go?”

“um, yeah. sure.” you reply confusedly, thrown off by her earnestness.

chaeyoung then pulls you over to a small area nearby the meeting point of the frozen lake with the ground, eyes flickering towards before looking at the snow. closing her eyes and exhaling out a warm breath against the icy surface, a small sparkle shimmers through her fingertips for a few seconds. at the end of that, a snowdrop appears to sprout from the cold dirt. she smiles with her mouth stretching from one end of her face to the other, glancing at you looking intrigued.

“do you like it?”

you knelt down to examine the flower, studying it with a tilted head. “i’ve never seen this one in the books back at home. what is it?”

“oh, it’s just some kind of flower. i don’t actually know what it is either, but it’s pretty isn’t it?”

you pluck the flower from the ground as soon she finishes her answer, breath hitching when you nestle it in between her hair, fingers grazing the outer lobe of her ear. you smile, your eyes warm with so much fondness as well as glowing in a soft color, a calming color actually.

“it’s beautiful.” you whisper out.

chaeyoung almost cries, catching herself melt for a slight second.

later on the way back to the cabin, chaeyoung hears a string of cracks in the trees to her right side. you pick up on the sound too, putting yourself in front of her as protection when they see the movement in the lines of trunks finally come into formation—another wolf.

chaeyoung is startled at the similar sight of the wolf that tried to devour her when she first got captured, but this was different since she was now with you, but the situation wasn’t safe just yet.

“we’re gonna make a run for the cabin, okay? it’s just up this trail. chaeyoung, i need you to keep your head forward and don’t look back, i’ll draw it’s attention away from you.”

“but-”

“i need you to trust me.” you say, “i’ll protect you, just get to the cabin. let me take care of this.”

chaeyoung swallows the growing lump in her throat, complying with your request. the both of you start running with the wolf tailing just a few meters away behind you two. the cabin was just a couple short seconds away and you look back at the wolf who was approaching closer.

“get inside and lock the door!” you command chaeyoung as she continues to run up the trail, doing exactly as you were told while she still worried about you. she couldn’t bear to look out the window, her ears hearing your yells and the wolf growls, the bashing of different objects mixed in with your pants.

she didn’t know how long it was since she first got back inside, but to her shock, she sees you stumbling inside the door, carrying something very unfamiliar.

chaeyoung notices the many gashes that were marked on your skin, the body of the same wolf that chased you two just behind you, the fur scratched, but still salvageable.

“did you just?!” she cries out, rushing towards you, grabbing your head while you wore a mad grin, eyes half lidded and face scratched up.

“you were right about the wolf thing you know.”

“i can’t—” her breath hitches, choking down a sob. “i can’t believe you did that.”

you grip matches hers on your wrist that was on your face, “i protected you,” you whisper out, getting hazily.

the way that your head was moving so much and the glint in your eyes, it seemed that the fight almost took you out entirely.

chaeyoung huffs, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and brings you to the bed, where she lays you down carefully, smoothing your hair away from your disfigured face from the cuts. she leaves you to get a bowl full of snow from outside, you frowning once she returned.

“why’d you go outside?”

“to get you something to cool these cuts from the stupid wolf.”

“but i killed it still.”

“well that doesn’t matter!” chaeyoung snaps at you, placing the bowl on top of the fireplace. “take your shirt and bra off, i have to see your other cuts for me to properly heal you.”

you pout but follow along by taking off the jacket from your shoulders, wincing while the shirt came off of you, leaving you barren with your breasts out. chaeyoung notices the additional marks scattered across your midsection. if you did…and she wasn’t here with you—

“sorry, for being stupid.” you say with a prideful gloat.

“y/n, i can’t—” chaeyoung cries out, covering her mouth. “you could have died if you fought any longer.”

“say that again.”

“huh?!”

she pulls her hands way from her mouth, meeting your eyes as you clasp her wrist again, eyes looking woozy, almost drunken. “my name, say it again, baby beast.”

“y/n, what—”

you groan out in rapture, chaeyoung blushes for a second before taking the wet rag and swipes it across your skin, brushing over the wounds carefully. at the end, the water is coloered with a hint of pink and the rag is completely soaked, but the wounds are cleaned, now it’s just a matter of getting you patched up.

chaeyoung taps your cheek, leaning over you, “okay, i need you to be awake for this next part. i’m going to heal your wounds.”

“wait don’t–” you mumble out.

“why?” a wall of protection builds from her facial expression, “you don’t want my demon magic over you?”

“i don’t want you to faint on me.”

“it’s fine.” chaeyoung mutters, ducking her head in shame before centering her hands over your abs.

she moves her hands across your upper body, healing every slice and tear that was across your flesh. even the minor bruises from the bumps and hits you took not from the wolf, ensuring that everything was healed properly. once finished, chaeyoung collapses on top of you, her head drowsy.

“i told you to not faint silly.”

“you left me,” she trails off, “no other choice.” whispering the last sentence before passing out, making you shift her over your lap, wrapping your arms around her for a slight hug–a sign of thankfulness coming out of you which was rare.

“looks like i have to take care of you now.”

chaeyoung was already passed out as you slide her underneath the furs, secugen her across your chest, nestling her face on your warm skin, feeling her pulse beat under your fingers. the relief finally settles in her, letting out a small sob. since when did the thought of you dying start to terify her more than being alive?

as chaeyoung fingers graze your bare back, you plant a faint kiss on her temple and cheek.

“rest well, chaeyoung."

213 notes View Post

hwabyul4wheesun

1 year ago

moonbyul & solar ♥ 231020 GGBB

309 notes View Post

hwabyul4wheesun

1 year ago

The greatest thing you’ll ever read

untethered devotion

witch!son chaeyoung x witchhunter!reader || angst, smut, fluff

synopsis: was love the biggest sin you ever committed?

warnings: smut ; cursing ; more enemies to lovers ; nightmares ; death threats ; reader is a complete idiot ; chaeyoung is questioning all morals at this point ; winter to spring kinda idk ; some violence ; cold but soft at the same time ; not proofread

pls read this first for context

later that same night, you dream of chaeyoung.

it had become all the usual for you now: fleeting sounds of her laugh and glimpses of her long, black hair or the tattoo marks on her skin. a serene nightmare that would haunt you in every second you were awake, but this was clear to you, despite being brutal.

you’re chasing her around the cabin. the four walls surrounding you are closing in, forcing themselves closer and closer together, but chaeyoung is somehow just out of reach. she glances back in many takes, giggling in mirth with a shine in her eyes. get me! they speak to you–like a siren in the ocean. i want you to catch me.

and when you do catch her—finally, bunching your fingers into the pelt that she’s wearing, slamming her to the wall. she’s laughing still, mocking you—like this was all a game to her. even after you press close and shove your knees between her bare thighs, your hands find her slimming throat and are squeezing.

your lips part with a stranlgled breath. “you’re nothing but a demon’s bride to me, witch.” you spit, thinking of the facade she’s emitting: and flowers are sprouting out from the soft snow.

she whispers to you, a smile on her face still.

“y/n.”

you’ve heard her say your name before, the only time was earlier but it’s all she says to you here. you heave her up the wall, wringing her neck. you lock eyes with chaeyoung as hers are slowly fading, light and life fading at the clutches of your fingers. you breathlessly giggle at the moment you’re enjoying.

and she strokes your face. the look almost like she was in love with you.

chaeyoung grapples against you, nails digging into your collar, trying to shake herself off to break free and she falls against the wall. she’s limp, a smile still on her face. “y-y/n.” she croaks out one last time before slacking. you lower her to the floor, tugging closely, trailing your fingers over her pulsepoint, there’s nothing. no feeling, no breath, or sound.

she’s dead–

you immediately shoot up from the bed upright, chest heaving, gasping for air. a cold sweat is spread over your upper body. looking over to your side, seeing chaeyoung’s face in a fully relaxed slumber. still alive. a wave of overwhelming relief that is coursing through you, still trying to recover from the horror.

with a shaking hand, you part her lightly soft hair and kiss her temple once, twice, and a third time–each peck being more forceful than the last. you then press your nose to her hairline, the scent of lavender soap and flowers clashing with the cold under the covers.

“thank god.” you whisper. “thank god.”

chaeyoung wakes up that next morning to find you kneeling by the fire, your large, long hands bloody from skinning the wolf you slain yesterday. when you notice that she’s awake, you smile.

“you okay?”

“better,” chaeyoung replies, rubbing her temples. the throbbing sensation no longer there to the point where her vision isn’t blurring at the edges of her eyes, but still. she was worried at the recklessness that you pulled that made her drain most of her healing powers. the fortune of not falling into a coma–since it’s happened before (not to her thankfully).

“here,” you say, as chaeyoung continues to make sure that everything was alright with her body, handing her a hefty piece of meat and a thick piece of bread that was wider than her palm. “i cooked us breakfast.”

“you could’ve just had me do it.”

“i can cook too ya know,” you drawl. “the least you can do is say thank you.”

chaeyoung blushes, brought down back to earth as she reaches for the meal. the meat itself you prepared was tough but tender when she bites into it, the hopeful expression that you have on your face pushes her to light up with enjoyment. humming while nodding her head at the taste, you grin.

after downing the bitten piece, she asks, “is this the…?”

“the wolf? it is.”

“oh.” chaeyoung looks down, remembering the cuts and gashes spread across your skin, the dazed look in your eyes as you stared up at her. “i did it for you.”

“s-so how are you-”

“better, more than better actually.” you say brightly, lifting your shirt to show. “no scars. you’re really a miracle worker, chaeyoung.”

she blushes after this sudden compliment, “it was just a simple healing magic spell. a child would know how to do it.”

“either way, i thank you.”

your gaze was a little too intense, penetrating chaeyoung right in the face, so she looks down at her meal and scarfs down another bite. after cleaning up, you ask, “it’s actually a pretty nice trick to have.”

“what?”

“your healing.”

“how is it a nice trick?”

“well,” you begin, glancing at the skinned wolf you were working on and chaeyoung. “when hunters like me go out to hunt and come back hurt, it’s nice to have someone who can tend to their needs.”

chaeyoung blinks, struck at the sense of deja vu taking over her, but pushes past it, scooting herself closer to you. “and what is it that you’re implying? are you saying that i should be a wife for you?”

your glistening face shines with a flush, a rosy pink that chaeyoung is pleased to see. “it’s just the right, sensible thing to do.”

“a wife tending to your needs?”

“i-i didn’t mea–” you shift, turning your body to square with hers. “the whole role of me bringing essentials for you. like providing really.”

chaeyoung hums, remembering that her father did the same to some extent as well as her mother. “while i– i mean, while your wife does something to keep herself occupied like sewing?”

you chuckle. “yes. sewing or anything homey.”

chaeyoung’s eyes flutter away from you, heart thudding at how unbearably fond you look currently, trying to think of something to switch up the topic. “aren’t you more into well, guys?”

“nope. i despise men.”

“really?”

“not my kind of thing at all.”

she sits back on the seat, recalling the occasion of how the girls in her village would dress up nice with flowers in their hair–coming back all flushed out and drunk while you sat there with lips parted at the surprising activity that you didn’t even expect for her to take part in.

“i thought you said that your village was all girls?”

“it was! but we had various travelers visit and some of them were actually enticing to–”

“i don’t believe this! how did we talk about house roles to–”

chaeyoung notices that you’re blabbering about some nonsense again, but she thinks that you actually enjoy throwing her off with just pure randomness that’s coming out of your mouth.

“all im saying is that the hunter or person of the house provides for the wife while she stays inside and keeps the home nice and tidy! providing for the family is always the most important thing and you as a woman would know that!”

“did you just–” chaeyoung’s ears perk up at the word that slipped from your mouth. “did you just say wife?”

“what?!” you shout out, blushing. “i don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“i heard you loud and clear. whatever happened to calling me a demon’s bride that your hunters were so proud of yelling. did you happen to figure out which one i’ve sold my soul to yet y/n?”

“you’re not married to a demon,” you growl, striking the blade through the wooden table next to you. “i’d kill that demon myself if that were the case.”

“luckily, i’m not.” chaeyoung huffs out.

“good.”

after you say that, chaeyoung swivels to face the wall, mind racing at your words that were turning in her head. why would you two feud about something that isn’t even brought to fruition in the first place?

at the end of the day, you think that she’s a demon’s bride, she clicks her teeth together in a wretched scrunch. a loose end is what i am chaeyoung thinks.

the thought of you dreaming up your ideal spouse and have her play the role. from cooking your meals, caring for your wounds, and even sleeping together in the same bed. she–a skeptic, the runt of the litter, the witch–-not some esteemed woman from the kingdom. you had the audacity to call her a wife without even implying the term directly.

chaeyoung’s upright posture droops down at the realization that she was playing the role of your ideal spouse. it’s been that way for so long now…making fur clothes, hunting for the next meal, and keeping her warm…

you keep your back faced towards chaeyoung, finishing up the last of the skinned wolf that you killed the other day. a blush coming through as you huff out in distress.

hours pass into the evening, and when you slip under the furs, chaeyoung rolls on her side and asks, “i’ve been thinking.”

“thinking of what?” you say to her, wrapping your arm around her head so that she could get more comfortable. it should’ve felt weird, but it’s so natural now.

“about the family thing. the roles that we’re playing. romance. all of that.”

“that’s more like marriage,” you say, shifting your body to get yourself more comfortable, blankets slipping to expose both of your chests. “romance is different…almost like connecting with someone that you’re destined to be with.”

chaeyoung blinks. “i’m confused.”

letting out a sigh, followed by a light smile. “i see it to be weird, but romance is beautiful to have. to fall for someone even when you least expect it.”

“but…” chaeyoung starts, considering what you were saying, before shaking her head after. “besides that, what did you mean about the roles that a married couple would have? that’s what i’m trying to get at here.”

“why do you ask?”

“just curious, i’ve only heard stories from my mother about a life full of love and happiness.”

you then pull her closer to you, chucking beneath her chin with a smile that has so much endearment to the emotion. “i’d be happy to share a little about my life.”

chaeyoung taps the end bone of your clavicle, synapses conducting in her mind of a question that could pry a little more into you that you’ve kept so secret about.

“why did you become a witch hunter?”

you stare at her, face still at the surprise question. “it was the only way out for me.”

“what about your mother?” chaeyoung asks, refusing to imagine the kind of life that you brought yourself upon in the harsh ranks of finding and killing her kind.

you utter a laugh that’s filled with dead humor, eyes drawing bitterly and the urge of malice running through your veins. “she died because i couldn’t save her.”

“how did she die?”

air comes out of your nostrils, brows creased together in annoyance to the traumatizing memory. “what do you think? it was a witch that killed her.”

chaeyoung’s body freezes at this. “a-a witch?” her face creases after, “i’m sorry y/n.”

you pat her exposed shoulder, dismissing her apology without even saying a word. “my mom fell in love with my father who was in love with another woman. it sounds pathetic, but she went to a well known witch in our town who was a very reliable helper. well, that was the case if she didn’t ask for money like the greedy bitch she was.”

glancing at chaeyoung, a dark humor in your eyes when she meets yours with a silent trepidation, so you continue:

“my mom went to the witch one day with a favor, and the witch told her for a few measly coins, she could make the flesh on one’s body curdle off the very bone; rip the air away from their lungs; rot a beating heart. she was desperate, so the witch agreed. she wanted my father back if it meant doing things that costed a life.

“that’s–” chaeyoung’s voice rises then dips down to a faint whisper, almost trying not to have the dark one’s presence over them. “black magic.”

you raise a brow, looking down at her with much more intrigue, “you’re sounding that this is something that you don’t practice?”

“are you kidding?” she asks you, horror in her voice breaking through, “you’re–you’re not allowed to do that. if one crazy witch were to partake in practicing that art, you’ll die trying to get what you so deeply desired.”

“well, the price itself was steep,” you say, blinking repeatedly, “everyone got sick in my hometown and my father did everything to help. it was no use anyway, she died within the next week or so.”

“and…what about the witch?”

you break a smug grin, slowly piercing your teeth through as if you’ve been waiting for that very question since you’ve met chaeyoung, “you know what they say about revenge? it’s like a wish granted from the gods above. i saw that bitch minding her own business in the market, whistilng to herself. i couldn’t believe the sight when i saw her. she killed my mom, and she just went on with her day like it was nothing.” your voice becomes more grim, mouth curling, “like she was just a normal human being.”

chaeyoung’s heart flutters, like a bird or animal wanting to be let out of their caged barrier the way her heart was beating inside her chest. “so, what did you do?”

“i killed her of course,” you whisper. “she walked into the alleyway where i trailed her from the market. i remember picking up a blade of glass and everything that followed after: how she screamed, how i screamed, the hot blood flowing out of her neck, the heavenly sounds of her taking her last breaths. i wished that she lived longer, so that she could feel more pain.”

chaeyoung stares at you, speechless, breath siphoned out from the actions you just said. how could you be like this? she thinks, wanting to push herself away from you. but then again, were you anything else besides a monster?

you keep going:

“my father was never the same after my mother’s death. twisted from a normal man to a crossbreed of a monster and living corpse. he said if i were to become a witch hunter, it would make him proud. so i did what he asked, only for him to die as well not long after.”

“y/n, y-you–”

“i despise witches because of how they’ve taken literally everything away from me. because of their greed, the deviancy, i lost my mother and father. my mother, chaeyoung, do you have–” you take a sharp inhale, eyes darting to the window above you, tears welling up in your eyes. looking back after compiosng yourself, an accusation is spelled across your face. “you don’t know what it’s like to have that happen to you.”

chaeyoung huffs a bitter laugh in disbelief, “i don’t know what it’s like? do you even hear yourself right now?”

“some would understand.”

“you’re the one to tell me that i don’t have any idea how it feels to have your life ruined? to have someone barge in and destory everything that you loved and cherished? you don’t think i know what it’s like to be angry?”

“how would you know?” you demand. “since you think you know better.”

“because of you.” she says pointedly. “you are that witch to me y/n, you and the rest of your fucking hunters. you ruined my life. took my family away from me. you—”

“they were witches. they—”

“deserved it? christ there were children. diana was only seven!”

“she—” you stutter, eyes widened. “but they–”

“you’re saying that i desterved it then? what would you do if you were forced to kill–”

“i’m not saying that at all,” you try to interject.

“it could’ve happened! if i were killed like the rest of them, knowing what you know me now, would i have deserved it just because i’m a witch to you? where’s the honesty in that y/n?”

`you sit up staring at her, lost. because of her anger, she pushes you against the wall where the window was over the bed, expectant, but you couldn’t answer her. your jaw slacks, parted lips but close after. you only manage to breathe out her name before she’s decided that this conversation was enough.

chaeyoung whirls around to face the door, scooting herself to the edge of the bed, far away from you. eyes stinging with tears, “i’ve heard just enough. thank you for your illuminating insight.”

“chaeyoung—”

“don’t touch me,” she snaps at you, flinching your outstretched hand away. “i think we both should just go to bed. we’re done talking for today.”

you slither back down on the mattress and into the fur sheets, reluctant. chaeyoung can feel the burning attention through the darkness in the cabin, but only after about ten minutes, the deep slow tide of your labored breathing lets her know that you’ve fallen asleep. only then she lets the tears fall on her face.

she’s not qute sure how this very conversation came as such a daunting reality check—the loathing that you told her for her people the second they met, but—but it hurts. and it hurts. wildly. sensationally. every sob that leaves chaeyoung’s mouth was another nail on the cross she has to bear.

i thought you were different.

she curls in on herself, back against yours, biting into her fist to stifle her sobs and whimpers.

you were supposed to be different.

the idea comes to her very easily in the middle of the night.

madness of it all overcoming in a distressing thought present in her mind.

chaeyoung stares down at you, unseeing. furs fallen below the waist, and the moonlight creating shadows along your canvased body. the sight sparks a warm fire in her, but it’s all overpowered by horror, vitriol even.

take y/n’s knife, a voice whispers from within her head, sinister and insidious. take her knife and slit her throat while she sleeps.

she could—and she can. she’s seen you prepare your essentials before heading out for hunting during the day to the point where she knows where you keep your weapons–on the rack, near the door— and chaeyoung has all the cause to put into effect; the gods above know she has every single justification. it’s all so simple to do, all she has to do is just do it.

chaeyoung gets up and tiptoes to the clothing rack to the door, slipping your dagger away from your sheath with a trembling hand. walking back, each step heavy and slow, calculated even, crawling back to the bed and over you. through the dim moonlight breaking through the window, she can see your pretty face with relaxed sleep, lips parted with even breaths passing through. her heart leaps to her throat, almost like blood flooding upwards and aching.

she leans over you, pressing the jagged edge to your adam’s apple. gritting her teeth, she musters up all the courage she could and slices-

just as quickly as it would seem, your eyes shoot open. larg hands flying to chaeyoung’s wrists, rolling her over in a flash, pinning her to the first and squeezing painfully. chaeyoung bursts into tears.

you kept calm, chaeyoung on the other hand implodes at your touch, the waves of grief, rage, and guilt for not killing you, the guilt stinging even more for even wanting to end your life in the first place.

“i’m sorry,” she sobs out, shaking fitfully, trying to break free from your clutches. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry.”

her voice cracks at the end, fading into thin air while you press your body close. shusing her by trailing your finger over her face and lips.

“it’s okay baby beast,” you breathed out softly. “there’s no need to cry, my precious one.”

chaeyoung’s hand curls around your firm bicep–trying to push you away, muchso like pulling you closer. you run your palm over her wet cheek, hushing her, crooning her name in a soothing tone, a gentle cadence until her sobs diminish into more short, hitched breaths. you trail your thumb at the beauty mark under her lip again.

“would it make you happier? to kill me?”

yes, yes, yes, yes, chaeyoung thinks, her heart pulsing more blood in her system. but no. no. it wouldn’t make me feel happier at all.

you don’t wait for her answer, slipping your hand over her trembling wrist and forces the blade upwards, securing the cold steel against the skin of your throat. chaeyoung is shaking earnestly now, her head thrashing against the mattress no, no.

“i can give it to you if that’s what you want. my life.”

“wait, y/n no please—”

“or—” you take the knife away from her hand, flinging it against the darkness of the cabin, before laying her palms against your neck. your eyes were dimming, fevered you would say. “use your magic on me baby beast. kill me with your magic.”

and—just for a moment, she tries to. staring up into your face and tries to remember how it felt from the first glance at you, what would have been ages ago, how so easy and simple it was for her to have enough hatred for you. the dreamy thought of setting your blood on fire, frezzing you to stone before cracking the skin into tiny pieces. the red cyclone in her chest, filled and fueled with loathing.

chaeyoung wanted you dead. to see you rot at her touch.

as that impulsive anger sparks, the regret washes through right after. she cringes away, curling her hands into fists that you bind back onto the mattress with just your one large hand over her head. she’s sobbing, her body shuddering with every dragged out exhale, and you’re hushing chaeyoung again, lips trailing over her face with subtle kisses. “chaeyoung, my baby beast, the beauty of my eyes.”

“i’m sorry,” she weeps out. it’s all she can say at this point. the sharp, agonizing remorse stabs her chest to no refreain, the way your team of hunters stabbed her sisters, the way you did. but she’s clinging onto you, tilting her neck when you kiss down beneath her jaw, sucking her pulse point. chaeyoung’s in too deep. she can’t undo this mistake if she even thought of trying.

“i’m not mad at you.” you go for another chaste peck at her chin, her eyelids, the slope of her cheekbone, the trail of her tears. “don’t cry baby, i could never be mad at you.”

in what way or world can she explain that this isn’t your anger that she cares about but her own? the pulses of tempered rage and grief still present in her mind, pins eating her up from the inside. chaeyoung wants to be angry at you so badly—it’s clear that you were the enemy, it shouldn’t be this difficult—but she isn’t, not really.

she’s just angry at herself and the weakness that she poses, how quickly it took for you to firmly place yourself as the one thing she needs in her life; one that she can depend on. she needs you now. so when you mouth down her face, she lets it happen-

willingly,

eagerly,

and whimpers once you two lock lips.

an unforgiving heaven, a cursed homecoming.

the piercing betrayal and sin that seemed to invite itself in. you groan at the first touch of her lips when chaeyoung finally opens up to you, blooming like a flower in this cold world. while your other hand was keeping her two hands captive, you stroke her wet cheek, chaeyoung clings to you.

“mine,” you breathe out, kissing her languidly, pressing her deeper into the mattress. mine. she fights the tempting laugh. how could she be so blind to this?

chaeyoung pulls you back to her lips, afraid of hearing you speak, and shimmies a bit when she feels the rough palms slide up her legs, feeling the fabric of her dress. once you were settled, chaeyoung gasps in your face from the sensation of your trousers ripping against her thighs, the flex of your hard muscles beneath her touch. she’s sliding a finger down your abs, nails catching the little divot of a v-line just meeting your waistband.

a swiped scratch from her and your hips buck forward, accidentally tapping her bare cunt. chaeyoung lets out a startled squeak from her throat, and you get the prompt to roll your hips into a slow grind. she’s throwing her head back, gasping, and wraps her arms around your neck.

“you like that, don't you?” you grin, rocking your upper-most thigh a little more with a refined pace. your eyes are lidded, fluttering with much more bravado. “i–it feels good to you?”

chaeyoung isn’t responding, only placing a sloppy kiss to your chin and continues to gyrate against your leg. the fabric of your trousers is starting to hurt her just a bit, but the ache is also gratifying. the justification not bearing to mind.

you begin to kiss lower, down to her neck and chest, where you pause to palm her breasts, the sparks in your eyes. sliding the nightgown up to the top of her waist and brushing your mouth around her abdomen, fingers exploring every dune and the plush skin of her thighs, forcing them like parting the sea of great moses. the heat is now presented in all of its glory between chaeyoung’s legs, the eagerness, all sense of rational thought no longer there. she whines when you press a kiss to her cunt.

“oh,” you sigh out, rapturous, and kisses her again. tongue hot against her pink flesh. the slick and wetness already on your mouth. “you’re so sweet, darling. i wish i could die doing this.”

and like someone who was deprived of water in the desert, you dive back down, feasting on her core, spreading her lips to lick up and down. keeping your ear open to listen for what makes the more noise out of chaeyoung’s mouth, neglecting the actions that doesn’t have the same praise. when you find her clit, her stomach spikes, the ecstacy racing down from her spine. you’re searching for it, like a hawk floating in the air waiting for it’s prey. her pussy against your plush mouth, sucking, nibbling, humming until you can hear her shrieks.

chaeyoung leans forward to look down, cheeks flushing hotly when she finds your gaze already on her, eyes meeting with greed. she feels the slide of your tongue in her entrance to thrust it inside her and she’s sobbing again, falling back, rocking her hips against your face.

“please,” she can hear herself begging. “god, please, please, please-”

“i need to do this again,” you growl in between sucks on her clit. the deep vibration of your voice sending signals through her body. “but if you want to kill me, do it like this, chaeyoung. break my fucking neck.”

there’s a pang of sorrow–guilt breaking through at the reminder, but this toe-curling pleasure is quick to replace it. you’re thrusting your tongue deep, laving at her fluttering walls. the sounds that chaeyoung is hearing coming out of your mouth is almost unholy, but it’s only increasing the anticipation. she feels as if she’s standing on a cliffside, the reveling sensation from the swoop of her belly as she waits for the fall; the imaginary coil–burning while it sits heavy in her cut to finally come undone. all that it’s gonna take is—

two digits of fingers sinks into chaeyoung’s core, rubbing upwards, your thumb pressing hard against her clit, and she finally breaks, sobbing as she clenches around you like a vice. you swallow the gush of wetness that follows through, moaning loudly, before crawling up to her shaking body to take her into your arms. the pusling sensation from your own core is staning itself with so much persistence, but you make no move to get yourself off. instead, you kiss chaeyoung’s face—again and again and again and agai—fixing your mouth to her ear, nibbling on her hanging lobe.

“i am yours chaeyoung, from when i am still breathing until the moment i die. this devotion of mine is all that i need.” you whisper.

chaeyoung huffs out a groan. she’s heard something like that from the wise women of the village that was almost another mantra.

devotion.

you wake up the following morning to find chaeyoung sitting up, blankly staring forward with her back against the headboard. eyes soaked.

a simpering grin spreads across your face and you scoot closer, taking her into your arms. she gasps, startled, but you press a kiss to her lips and swallows the sound. when she pushes back against you, you slide down, sucking at the delicate line of her throat. her fingers are clutching around your arm as she tilts her head back, choking on a sigh. you grin and drop another open chaste kiss to her collarbone.

“my tiger cub,” you whisper, clinging to her. chaeyoung twitches a bit, clasping a hand around your wist, but you twine your fingers to hers, pressing a hard kiss to the back of her hand and middle knuckle. her face crumples, almost if she’s pained that this is happening between you two.

but you’re an idiot, and you’re oblivious to this. staring at her face, the pinched brows and the baby pink curve of her pouty lips, you had to wonder when all of this had started to change. when did the sight of her—something that was used to fuel his hatred, a disdain that burned so hot within you–became so dear. loving chaeyoung now was the same essential as breathing.

you want to say the words. the words are primed against your tongue, and they are heavy. heart beating with a pulsing, wet mass in the mold of it.

“we should get out of here,” chaeyoung croaks out, suddenly, you smile, kissing the arch of her jaw.

“but where would we go? a vacation down south? i think the weather is way better down there and it’s sunny.”

“no.” to your surprise, her voice audibly cracks and she’s flinching herself away from you, shifting to the edge of the bed. she’s hunched over with knees to her chest and covers her face with her hands. “y/n, we have to leave.”

“why?” you snap, sharply. panic begins to unravel in the pit of your stomach, a chill coming over your skin. you want to hug her, have chaeyoung in your arms or seal yourself with her, but she’s distancing herself. chaeyoung herself is shaking her head in disappointment.

“because this isn’t—” chaeyoung suddenly surges to her feet and whirls around. your chest is caving in at the sight of tears on her face; you want to wipe them away, replace them with kisses. “w-what the hell happened last night? i don’t…this doesn’t make sense. i put a knife to your throat, but you… i can’t—”

“chaeyoung, calm down. what is that you’re trying to say?”

“i don’t understand us. what we have here doesn’t make sense. we’re supposed to hate each other.”

you laugh, the alarms in you not really ringing. is this really what she’s worried about right now?

“i haven’t hated you for a long time now, baby beast,” you say with a stern tone, amused. “and what happened last night was inevitable. that was the end result of everything that we’ve been working towards to.”

“y/n, i tried to kill you.”

pure thrill courses through your veins again, and you grin. “exactly.”

“what! are you actually insane?! i tried to slit your throat! i was going to!”

“and i would’ve let your. if anyone is going to kill me, chaeyoung, i wanted it to be you. only you. my life is yours.”

“so?!” she laughs out—almost like a sob even. “this is just some—s-some twisted marriage pact that you’ve created?”

“i didn’t create anything!” you argue. “what in the fuck do you think we’ve been doing?!”

“i don’t know! none of this doesn’t make sense to me anymore!”

you get off from the bed, stalking over to you. “i’ve hunted and protected you. i kept you warm in this harsh cold that nature has thrown at us. i’ve been the one who’s providing. this has never been about killing you since we got here. and it hasn’t been for a very fucking long time!”

“you should hate me!” chaeyoung shrieks. tears are rolling down her cheeks again just like last night. “you should want to kill me! last night when i had your own knife against you throat, you should’ve killed me instead!”

the mere notion of holding her in your arms while blood is leaking from her sliced opening, the blood on your blade is more than enough to send your head in a twisting madness. “i couldn’t. i would never.”

“you should. you’re supposed to hate me.”

“i don’t. if anything, i-i—” a raw, brazen courage crawls up your throat, and you speak before you could even think twice about it.

“i love you.”

chaeyoung shakes her head from the three words you just uttered stupidly—”i love you, chaeyoung.”

“that’s a fucking lie. no you don’t,” she sobs, bowing slightly with her head off to the side. “you don’t”

“it’s what i feel! you could tell me otherwise, but it’s the truth! i love you!”

“no! you hate me! you hate everything that i am! you think i’m a dirty runt-pig-whore and you’ve always have!”

“when did i ever say—”

“the first night we met! when the hunters tried to—you asked them if it was compelling to fuck a pig!”

“you–” you can’t believe she’s saying this. you can’t believe that you’re hearing this. “that was before i got to know you.”

“do you have to know someone before you compare them to a fucking animal!?”

your mouth opens, throat staining with the urge to argue, to reason everything that was entirely not true, but you remain speechless. the words are just not there. you place your hand over your face, fighting back the tears from coming out as chaeyoung wipes her own. her voice is more sorrowful, the tone quieter when she says, “you can’t love and hate me for what i am, y/n, that’s not how love works.”

“i don’t—” i don’t hate what you are, you want to say, but the daring lie stirs sourly in your mouth. of course you hate for what she is. her kind is the reason you vowed to see everything true to the end. it’s all hatred, and you were devoted to fulfill it.

“y-you are the exception,” you weakly say, but chaeyoung’s expression falls more, covering her face with her hands.

“this needs to stop. it’s not good anymore, this life that we built together. this false charade that we’ve been deluding ourselves into.” her words are falling to a more worked sob, and you swallow the lump in your throat, chest shaking. “i can’t play the role of your little wife anymore, y/n. we need to leave.”

you want to stand your ground. but you can’t argue with what she’s saying when she’s right. the rage screaming out to act angry. your expression is stoic and the you on the inside wants to bury your face into her stomach, begging for comfort, for her love, to stay.

but you do nothing.

instead, you stomp toward the rack next to the door and toss chaeyoung her wolf pelt.

“fine,” you start, putting on the layers of fur on your back with so much efficiency, “if you want to leave so badly, we can go now. get your shit together and let’s get out of here. i’ll be outside."

chaeyoung is left stricken, wide-eyed as she sees you storm out the door of the cabin and into the freezing cold, heaving out once reaching to the stump used to make firewood. tears are streaming down your face.

you fall to your knees that are met with the snow beneath and hang your head in shame.

the few days that come after that heated conversation are as tortuous as the first time you and chaeyoung meet.

you don’t even talk to chaeyoung. it should be relieving but it isn’t. when you and her walk, it’s in silence. when you sit near the fire to warm up, it’s quiet. when it’s time to get in the sheets of the mattress, it’s forced, but still silent. the cold aura is the same as the air around you.

everything stays the same however. you hunt for food and another place to set up camp while chaeyoung cooks and warms you with her magic whenever she can. the only big difference in the dynamic is the companionship; their fragile, tenuous truce—fruited with hope, once thick with craving—is now a searing rift. you and her are back to the start in all of this.

worse than, chaeyoung thinks, despairingly. now you can’t even look at me.

it’s another harsh freezing night. you are huddled over the fire, stroking the flame with the flimsy tin plate while chaeyoung is on the opposite end, shivering under the bundles of pelts, trying to encapsulate any warmth she could keep. normally, you would notice this and cuddle behind her, wrap your arms around her waist and have her back against your chest. but you don’t—the offering is no longer there anymore, and chaeyoung doesn’t even bother to ask.

once the fire is at a suitable height, you lean back and wrap your set of furs. chaeyoung is darting her eyes at you as you get your self comfy with the fabrics under your chin, eyes glowing in the flames and you turn over without even flashing a look at chaeyoung even once.

it’s no surprise or unexpected, but it stings. the feeling all the more present in its own right. chaeyoung bites her inner lip as tears sting the corners of her eyes. she wants to say something, a goodnight, to–to apologize, but the notion is near impossible to do. there’s nothing to be sorry about. she was right about everything that she said and she stands by it. she knows this. but still, the regret still lingers, chewing away inside her from the moments where the loneliness grows to great lengths, and now she’s wanting.

seemingly made fit of her to feel so.

“chaeyoung,” she blinks, startled once again, to find you looking over from the other side of the fire centered in the middle of you two, expression eerily blank. “you finished eating right?”

no, i couldn’t swallow anything that you made without wanting to throw it up in disgust.

“yes,” she whispers, nodding your head in acknowledgement before turning around again. chaeyoung listens to your breathing to be at a steady tempo before she allows herself the luxury of wallowing. once in the bed together, you were already fast asleep while chaeyoung cries into the wolf pelt that you made for her until she too falls asleep, restless and fitful from the growing pain within her.

a couple days pass, and you toss her a leg from a chicken to her for breakfast one morning, packing all of your supplies with a single goal in mind. you’ve grown antsy because you and chaeyoung were getting closer to a town nearby down the mountain range. the sea of trees slowly breaking and the wide river that was once frozen has traces of other campgrounds. it would only be a matter of time until they’ll be separated again. the knowledge lances through chaeyoung like an arrow to her chest. she can’t even fathom or build up the energy for guilt anymore.

the sun beams down in the highest point of the sky, warm on your faces, and when they run into an old woman. she’s on the way to the other end, holding a mailer’s bag that has herbs inside while she hobbles past. chaeyoung tenses up when she notices her, sensing that tie that’s binding the; that great power where they draw magic from.

but you were with her, and you might decide to be cautious on whether or not to sink your blade into this woman’s chest. blood on your face stained while chaeyoung watches and remembers the sights of—

that’s when the old woman looks up with a beaming smile.

“hello sister,” she says, walking over.” are you on the way to the nearby town?”

“i–uh—yes,” chaeyoung replies, “just me and my…”

she catches herself mid sentence, not sure of what to call you. wife? lover” dear god no—a sister? luckily for chaeyoung, the elder witch seemed to think something else otherwise.

“i’m assuming your wife?”

“yes!” chaeyoung says, taking your hand and sending you a pleading look. “my wife.”

beside her, you stand stiffly, tensing up to your shoulders, lips pressing to a pout and holding a breath while you grip chaeyoung’s hand tightly. to her surprise, you were actually more afraid than menacing.

“you girls look beautiful together! so when was the wedding?”

“about a month and a half ago,” chaeyoung replies softly.

the old witch gasps with delight. “that’s so wonderful! here, a small present for two.”

she reaches into her bag to pull out a fresh, purple lily. chaeyoung tries to turn her down, thankful for the kindness, but she’s insisting, shoving the small band of flowers into her hands. then she turns to you.

“you have a lovely, young bride. make sure you treat her well.”

“don’t worry,” you say, “i will. i plan to for as long as she’ll let me.”

there’s a damming glint of honesty behind that phrase almost revealing the whole act, but it sends tears to the eyes all the same. the old woman smiles and pats chaeyoung’s cheek.

“she’s a good one. you two behave now, alright?”

chaeyoung nods, laughing at the elder’s joke. she’s afraid she’ll stop crying if she stops.

just before the elder witch leaves, she points you and chaeyoung into the direction of the nearest town—about a mile and a half off and continues her walk up the mountain, waving goodbye in the distance. for a quick second, chaeyoung still has the fear that you would hunt her down and chuck an arrow into her back, but you don’t. you simply just continue forward, and it should be expected for you to act like a sensible humaning behind instead of a cult member—but this meant the world to chaeyoung.

while you walk forward with all of the belongings from the cabin on your back, chaeyoung sniffles just behind without you knowing, wiping away her burdening tears before tailing you on the trek to the town. you pause to allow her to catch up to you.

that said town that the elder witch pointed out. you are frozen solid as you lead chaeyoung through the busy streets, grip on her wrist tightening by the second enough to keep her from being overwhelmed by the new sights and sounds. once you two reach an inn, you get a room for the night, guiding her through the second floor to the room near the end of the complex.

unlocking the door, prompting chaeyoung to step inside and you follow after her. a soft click sounds off from the door shutting behind, but the sound sounds more scary much like a scream. the silence that fallos over them feels poignant, but dangerous like an icy chasm.

“i’ll go get a fire started,” you say, stepping towards the hearth set next to the kitchen counters.

chaeyoung takes a look around the big room, the large single bed and the draping curtains, grasping desperately for a distraction, but it’s hypnotic like getting lost in the smoky mist. she sits herself on the edge of the bed, palms against the bed frame, feeling the better sturdiness compared to the mattress back at the cabin. it’s softer than the one they used to sleep on, but still unappealing.

she knows that you would probably offer to take the bed and have you sleep on the floor, rather use your furs instead of sleeping next to her, the loneliness becoming more expansive before you or her even say anything.

the separation was necessary, and she knows this. it would be better for you to go your own way and meet up with the other hunters and for chaeyoung to build a new life, to heal and help others, but—

even though it might be the right thing to do, it hurts. a ferocity that’s paining her, she doesn’t want you to leave. the idea of saying goodbye, parting from you like the last month had never happened, stabs her through the gut. after everything she’s been through, the losses and suffering, it was too much to bear.

chaeyoung lingers on the bed, you knelt in front of the fireplace, shoulders hunched over. quietly, it almost breaks the silence that’s persistent but she could hear you.

“i’m sorry.” you say.

her heart jumps to her throat. she snaps to face you. “what?”

“i’m sorry,” you say again, stronger, and you also turn around. you look absolutely wrecked. “i’m sorry, chaeyoung. i’m sorry for hurting you. i’m sorry for ruining your life. i’m sorry for—for destroying your village and killing all of your loved ones. i–i’m just—i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.”

chaeyoung can’t even believe the waves of emotion that eclipses over her: the potent mix of rage and grief, stomach boiling with just pure unjust—heart wrenching sorrow. before she could even compose herself, she breaks into tears, sinking back into the mattress, wailing into her hands. you immediately crawl over to her.

you grab her knees, opening them apart, pleading eyes gleaming up with hers. “i’m so sorry. the words that i’m saying aren’t enough to say it wholeheartedly, but i am. i am.”

“why?” she sobs out through her hands. “why are you—?”

“because the idea of you leaving here is impossible for me to bear without knowing what i feel.” you take her hands away from her face, intertwining your fingers with her. “and— because i love you, chaeyoung. that’s been the truth for me for so long now.”

“y/n—”

“i won’t lie anymore. there’s so much about everything that i’ve been taught that’s been confusing me.” you start off with breaths becoming more and more shakier. “i’ve been trained all my life to kill people like you since i was twelve, and more than that, i’ve been beaten down to the point where i’m supposed to hate you. there’s still so much anger inside me that i don’t even know what to do with it, but…i’m trying. i’m willing to try. i want to be so much better than this.”

chaeyoung shakes her head, overwhelmed with the second confession, and you bury your face into her lap, fingers clinging to her skirt.

“and if you want to turn me down that’s fine with me too,” you say, the wrecked expression still wearing on your face. “i’ll-i–i’ll accept it. i’ll give you whatever you need in order to get by in this town and then i’ll just—”

she shushes you, lifting your head from her knees, sliding her palms over your cheeks. she’s staring down at you, the wet, colorful eyes and the stream marks from the tears slipping down to the midpoint of your cheek and chin. you have the face of a murderer. she’s seen it all. she’s seen what your hands look like when it’s riddled with blood, regardless of who or what it may be, and she despise you for now profoundly you can hate what you don’t understand, but yet—

the daunting fact, or realization of that matter was the point that she loves you too. chaeyoung loves you. you. she loves you despite the facts; she loves you because of it. it wasn’t the airy, light feeling that she’s heard from the older sisters back at the village. it’s deep and she’s being sucked down into it, clawing and twisting, maiming from within with so much force.

but love is hopeful. love is hopeful. loving you will always feel like taking a leap of faith.

and chaeyoung lets it all fall down.

she slides off the bed and into your lap, straddling you, cupping your face and wiping away the tears that are dried on your cheeks.

“this may be the one decision that i will ever make in my life, but i love you. i hate myself for feeling like this, but i do, and i think a part of me will always resent you for what you did, but–” a deep breath, shuddering her vocal chords and leans in to your angled jaw with her temple. “if i have to try every passing day to forgive you in order to love you then i might just have to do so. i think i can do that.”

“do you really mean–” you utter, the words are coming out of your mouth so fast they’re almost jumbled into one run on sentence. “you mean like actually—”

“i love you y/n,” she breathes out. “i do, i do, and i do.”

you bind an arm around her waist, crushing her towards you, kissing her desperately. chaeyoung meets you with the same fevored energy, burying her fingers into your hair to bring you closer, and closer, much more closer. tears dripping against her face and she’s kissing them away, the salt coating her tongue. “i love you,” whispering against your skin.

a broken sob breaks out from you, sliding your hands down to her thighs. you’re lifting chaeyoung, pressing her back to the rug beneath you, the light emitting from the fireplace, and you lower yourself, settling between her open legs. chaeyoung wraps them around your waist, hungry for the weight of you against her; frantically inviting you in; you can never be closer enough.

your lips break away from hers to track more open-mouthed kisses down her face, to her neck, lingering over her pulse. the hard suck pulling a squeaked whimper from her before soothing it with the wide of your tongue. the rolling heat sinks down more and more; chaeyoung is getting twitchy; the burn of arousal consuming her.

she’s all too familiar with it now. she knows that eagerness that’s growing within and she’s too embarrassed to admit this, but she’s fantasized about this sometimes while trekking down the mountains. chaeyoung imagined your mouth, the stretch of your fingers inside her, your tongue. she wants more of you, all to be deflowered at the touches you offer.

so she raises her hips to your thigh, grinding her core against her leg as she presses her mouth against your ear. “i need you,” she whispers out. it’s everything that you needed to hear out of her.

sighing out in response, you crush chaeyoung more into the rug on the floor with so much excitement. rucking up the nightgown and helping her, raising her arms to rip it off before tossing her on the bed again. the hitched breath with a hint of a moan once her body meets the mattress. your hands find her breasts, chaeyoung hissing at the sensation of your roughened palms against the hard buds of her nipples, massaging them, testing the perkiness of how petite they were.

your eyes were hooded, a twinkle sparkling through at the sight of her flushed cheeks at your touch. “can i-”

chaeyoung looks away, biting her lip at the notion that you were aiming towards. “well, yes.”

without thinking twice, you dive for her breast, kissing the ample flesh before enveloping a bud into your mouth. chaeyoung gasps sharply when you lave your tongue over it, the other hand continuing to feel the unoccupied mound. she’s searching for friction, and she’s not satisfied enough when your knee nudges against her clit. she moans loudly this time, insisting for more.

spurred by this desperation, you lift your lips from her breast with a chaste kiss before kissing down her stomach. chaeyoung knows that you’re planning and tries pulling you back up to her face, the impatience breaking through, but you hush her, the smile indulging at what she wants, what she needs. “let me have your cunt first, baby beast. i want you to be ready.”

you spread her legs, fingers parting her lips before licking up her core. the broad strip that ends at her throbbing pussy. she’s sobbing again, thighs tensing around your head as you drink her up mercilessly, head thrashing against the pillows. she is too ready for you, all riled up, so when you brush your mouth at her core again, she lets out a strangled cry, whining while she’s nearly ripping the hair off from your scalp.

the fingers haven’t even come into play yet, and she’s already on her first high. by the end of that, her legs are shaking, and she’s reduced to nothing more but mush. once you retreat your mouth from the swollen pussy, chaeyoung is whimpering at the loss of the stimulating feeling that you gave her, placing another kiss on her inner thigh.

she’s reaching for you, not meeting your eyes and her face is still flushed out. you kiss her palm, “i’m not going anywhere, my love,” you say, taking off your top and bra. chaeyoung sighs out when you fall back to her, fingers slipping against her entrance again, teasing her. the greedy entrance of her slick soaking your fingertips. she’s grasping your shoulder, silently pleading with her eyes from the fireplace, and you laugh–a small thing, but broken.

“fuck me chaeyoung,” you gasp, thumb pressing her clit lightly to let out another hitched moan from her lips, biting the inner part of her mouth. “i planned on—you said you were gonna leave me.”

her hands find your face again, and she kisses you, slowly and with so much passion. once she breaks away from you, she whispers, “i can’t.” not ever.

your gaze softens at the sight of her, sweet as sugar, and you slip inside her. chaeyoung’s breath hitches at the contact, fear tickling at the base of her throat, but you increase the quantity and it’s all the way.

the stretch of your fingers inside chaeyoung stings, but you’ve prepared her for it well. the slicked entrance makes it good, and it’s all too easy. it’s giving in much more than you initially thought. every knuckle reaches and you’re pushing, not faltering. within just a few seconds, she’s flushed at your fingers, sheathing themselves all the way inside, curling her g-spot. she clutches at you, moved by the same feeling from that one night, the sensation so familiar but new that she almost starts to tear up again.

mouth is parted, your eyes are lidded. chaeyoung is gasping at the sparks of pleasure that is searing at her gut and she’s increasing her grip on your. “please,” she whispers, bucking her hips at the hand inside her. “give me more, please.”

destroyed in rapture at the sight of chaeyoung’s lip parted open, head doubled back on pace from your thrusting hand, it drove you even more. you’re kissing into her neck, sucking away, harshly kissing again as your free hand trails over to her breast again, massaging the mound to add more to the already present wreckage that chaeyoung is going through.

“you feel so good around my fingers,” you growl out, another snap sharpened from the lips. “so tight. god what you do to me is sinful, baby beast.”

“like this–” she sobs out. “i want to be like this for you” she says fully, a laugh coming out of you that sounds like a trembling rumble that could strike her all the way down to her curled toes.

chaeyoung is still clinging at you, keening as you continue to pound her. in between sucks on her neck, you’re saying nonsense, calling her your sweet girl, my precious one: “my little wife and her pretty, wet cunt.”

the legs are clamping around your hand, the strokes becoming more and more jerkier, you’re seeking it out, pressing a thumb to her clit again, teasing to get the release faster, chuckling when she’s whining in protest. you’re rubbing a circle in addition to your thrusting fingers, and chaeyoung is biting back a shout, reading up as the rope in her gut is starting to tighten, contracting on the near edge of release. you’re trying to part her clenched legs.

you’re growling again, much more ferocity now. “you need it?”

“yes,” she whsipsers, eyes clenched shut. “yes, yes, yes, yes—”

with a pinch of a clit with your thumb and forefinger, chaeyoung is spazzing out, biting back a scream that would still be let out for the neighboring guests to hear, trembling. you’re still working her cunt with four fingers inside, the grip nearly strong enough to break your fingers, biting her inner thigh until she calms down at your touch, the pace slowly dissipating.

you slide your fingers out, crawling over to chaeyoung’s side before collapsing on top of her, the weight almost crushing, but it’s welcoming, wrapping her arms around your neck. she’s kissing thetop of your head. “i love you.”

“and i love you too,” you pant out, tapping her shoulder. “but i’d hate to get you worked up so soon after hearing that, baby beast.”

chaeyoung lets you roll off her body, slowly, before turning on her side to face you. the soreness creeping through as the flickering glow of the fireplace sets shadows against the planes of your toned frame, the hard muscles and turns your skin to a golden bronze, radiating like the sun.

she’s smiling at you, brushing her thumb against your sweaty cheek. “my sun,” she whispers out.

you take her hand after, “my wife.”

tears are flooding her eyes, streaming down to her cheeks, but you caress her before kissing the stained stream away. when you pull back, chaeyoung is also happy to find that you were crying too.

“what’s on your mind?” you ask her.

you, chaeyoung thinks. this is insanity to every definition. all preposterous to every front.

but she doesn’t want to ruin the air with her worries, so she answers, “you think the other guests would mind after what we just did? or do you want me to have my turn at you now?”

you blink at her, stunned, before lying on your back which gives chaeyoung an opportunity to slide on top of you. kissing away at your body to find all of the spots possible to get your buttons going. you roll over with her between your arms, smothering her lips with another kiss from yours.

“i could give less of a fuck if we get a noise warning this late at night.” you say, and chaeyoung is laughing against your mouth.

“make sure your eyes are closed, okay?”

“y/n, your hands are over them.”

“but that doesn’t mean that you can’t keep them closed. oh shoot—wait, wait hold on.”

chaeyoung squeals, startled, when she feels your hands slide behind her back and knees, binding her up against you carrying bridal-style. she hears the sound of a swinging door open and your voice, flush against her ear with a smile breaking through saying, “okay, baby beast. you can open them now.”

so she does and gasps immediately with awe, clinging to you while you put her back to the ground. her eyes are flickering with awe over the kitchen, the large hearth, the furniture, it’s all spread around the open space. she turns back to you and kisses you, hard, keeping her arms wrapped around your neck.

“you did all of this?” she breathes out, “but where did you—”

“of course,” you say, too satisfied. “i managed to buy some of the pieces from a couple of sellers, but most of the other stuff is from me.”

“oh. was it too much to buy in the first place?”

“no, not really. remember that i have a little bit of cash to spend.”

chaeyoung nods, taking care to not mention how you managed to get that kind of money, tugging your hands along the open space. “show me the rooms.”

you grin, taking her hand and leading her down the spacious hallway. you open a door and lead chaeyoung inside, the smile more apparent now when you hear her gasp again. a large bed sits against the wall, the headboard made of metal sprawling, thick roots that may look like they come from a tree. there’s a sitting nightstand with a neighboring drawer in the same corner. chaeyoung stumbles back on your chest, hand over her throat. “i-i don’t know what to say.”

“do you like it?” you whisper against her ear.

“i do. i do. you know that i do.”

“we have two other spare bedrooms.” you say, kissing the curve of her jaw. “maybe we can put them to good use.”

“what are you thinking of?”

you hum at the sight of the unoccupied bed, lips pressed against as you bury your chin on chaeyoung’s shoulder.

“we can always move stuff around, but i’ve been thinking about helping.”

“helping with what?”

“there’s a building here around town that is helping with those who have been ripped away from their families, orphans.” you say. “some of them have the potential to create magic i heard.”

“but don’t you want to have someone that’s able to hunt?”

chaeyoung turns towards you, smiling into the kiss again while your hands are tied at the endpoint of her back. “you did say i wanted to teach someone my magic.”

“so you want to adopt?”

chaeyoung hums, considering the plausible offer you presented. “let’s adopt. it’s always better when there’s another besides the two of us.”

you grin with triumph before lifting chaeyoung again, tossing her to the bed. she’s laughing, accepting your weight easily as you press her deep into the mattress, blooming like a lovely flower.

love. love is powerful. it can change someone in ways that no one would expect.

devotion. the pledge for a cause that’s unwavering and has a similar meaning to love.

sin. it’s damming, but you’ve committed worser crimes in your lifetime that will get you to that warm home of hell eventually.

loving chaeyoung, doesn’t feel like a sin at all.

136 notes View Post

hwabyul4wheesun

7 months ago

Wheein 🥰

WHEEIN illella (221022)

131 notes View Post

hwabyul4wheesun

8 months ago

The tension 🫠🫠🫠 this was really good 🥰

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.)

808 notes View Post

hwabyul4wheesun

1 year ago

horse yuri yayyy

(ive never drawn ponies before i hope they look fine)

6K notes View Post

thefuckingvillainmustache reblogged this · 1 month ago
boliviabsolut liked this · 6 months ago
allaboutdej liked this · 6 months ago
toolazytothinkforaurll liked this · 6 months ago
didyoucount reblogged this · 6 months ago
chaechuu reblogged this · 6 months ago
ineffableensorcellment liked this · 6 months ago
pambreezy97 reblogged this · 6 months ago
pambreezy97 liked this · 6 months ago
bookiepookie56766 liked this · 6 months ago
withlovetori liked this · 6 months ago
bonniehooper reblogged this · 6 months ago
brownsugarrilakkuma reblogged this · 6 months ago
merriiiii liked this · 6 months ago
yoonkyoong reblogged this · 6 months ago
myelegantdownhill reblogged this · 6 months ago
unperfectocabron reblogged this · 6 months ago
unperfectocabron liked this · 6 months ago
favry reblogged this · 6 months ago
favry liked this · 6 months ago
mundinho-perfeito liked this · 6 months ago
samianth reblogged this · 6 months ago
samianth liked this · 6 months ago
piedpisces reblogged this · 6 months ago
noonaloverboy-my liked this · 6 months ago
ahomiesexualteen liked this · 6 months ago
foolonparade liked this · 6 months ago
dailytwice reblogged this · 6 months ago
essenceoflime reblogged this · 7 months ago
kindofacreature reblogged this · 7 months ago
bibi-bullet reblogged this · 7 months ago
poopyheadandhoneybunch reblogged this · 7 months ago
ladytaetae reblogged this · 7 months ago
ahn-maria reblogged this · 7 months ago
librapropaganda-archive reblogged this · 7 months ago
lolarosies liked this · 7 months ago
oceanodedoces liked this · 7 months ago
morgoth reblogged this · 7 months ago
morgoth liked this · 7 months ago
ikjun reblogged this · 7 months ago
isabelleadjani reblogged this · 7 months ago
hologramhoneymoon liked this · 7 months ago
whosserina liked this · 7 months ago
rosethornq16 liked this · 7 months ago
emogirlie liked this · 7 months ago
walkinginthewnd reblogged this · 7 months ago
walkinginthewnd liked this · 7 months ago

hwabyul4wheesun

~Hwa~

She/her • ‘04 • doesn’t know what she’s doing Loves Mamamoo a lotDoesn’t know why she’s talking in third person about herself Loves reading fanfics of any girl group

157 posts

Explore Tumblr Blog

Search Through Tumblr Tags

There’s No Way She’s Real 🥰🫠

More Posts from Hwabyul4wheesun and Others

BANANA - J. WONYOUNG SMAU

HIGH GARDEN ACADEMY — ⌞ karina, winter smau⌝

— chapters.

How you met Nayeon

---✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦---✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦---

---✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦---✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦---

JiChaeng HCs

SFW HCs

NSFW HCs

my knife that's bounded by your love

untethered devotion

punches to the heart

There’s No Way She’s Real 🥰🫠

More Posts from Hwabyul4wheesun and Others

BANANA - J. WONYOUNG SMAU

HIGH GARDEN ACADEMY — ⌞ karina, winter smau⌝

— chapters.

How you met Nayeon

---✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦---✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦---

---✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦---✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦---

JiChaeng HCs

SFW HCs

NSFW HCs

my knife that's bounded by your love

untethered devotion

punches to the heart

---✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦---✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦---

---✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦---✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦---