phamminji

[phamminji]

Phamminji Haven’t heard that name in a while… feed us pls we’re starving

hii i'm a corporate slave now 🥲 but i have missed writing icl 😔

was thinking about writing for izna too since my friend recently roped me into watching iland2 but. JIYOON. and newjeans my babies 😾 i miss them

[phamminji]

the only thing i don't get is why would wakeone take her out of izna but still keep her as an artist under wakeone

[phamminji]

SHE POSTED AND I WASNT ALIVE TO SEE IT WHAT THE FUCK

roster | mikha lim.

part one of three.

summary ; excitement was something she was missing and you provided it for her. she thinks you're clueless, but she doesn't know that every move she's made has already been played by you.

pairing ; mikha lim x fem!reader

content ; mikha goes to admu, reader goes to up, mikha volleyball player, BABAERO CONYO MIKHA!!!, hookup culture, half smau...., suggestive, read to see ^-^ !!! taglish w eng translations!

genre ; fluff, angst

wc ; 3.8k

playlist here !!

a/n ; thank u @heybeautifulstranger for helping me translate hehe labyu

mikha loved volleyball. without it, she was nothing. at least, that's what she believes.

she put all her time and effort into the sport, disregarding everything else to improve herself. she was already the star player; every young person in the country was familiar with the name ‘mikha lim’. although the girl was incredible at her sport – that wasn’t the reason why she was so well known.

mikha was attractive. she knew that and apparently everyone in the country did, too. people came to her games to watch her play, but not watch her play. mikha wished people focused more on her performance as an athlete, but she wouldn’t lie and say she didn’t like the attention. support was still support.

“huy, friday night na at nagpapractice ka pa? late na, mikhs. umuwi ka na. (it’s friday night and you’re still practicing? it’s late, mikhs. you should go home.)” her coach advised, putting equipment away. mikha laughed, gripping the ball she held. “not yet, coach. may energy pa ako. (i still have energy.)”

“baka namimiss ka na ng jowa mo. (your girlfriend might miss you already.)” she teased, earning another laugh from the star player. “i don’t have time for a relationship po.”

“oo nga, baka magalit ang mga fangirls and boys mo. (that's right, your fangirls and fanboys might get mad)” she joked, mikha rolling her eyes playfully. she threw the ball over to her coach, deciding to pack up for the night. “i can’t have a jowa when i’m supposed to be the nation’s girlfriend!” she grabbed her bag and water bottle, turning to her coach who was clearly amused by her answer. “i’ll go home na po, night, coach! see you next week.”

“bye, mikhs.”

she gets into her car, checking her phone for the first time in hours. dozens of notifications flooded her phone as soon as she changed her focus from do not disturb. ranging from message requests sent by ambitious and confident (delusional) fans to thirsty comments on her posts to getting tagged on edits, and so much more.

she ignored all of them and immediately checked her messages.

when she said she had no time for relationships, she meant it. but that didn’t mean no time for some fun. she drove home to freshen up and get ready to meet up with her friends.

the loud and busy atmosphere always amuses mikha. while some people enjoy quiet and intimate places, mikha enjoyed the club. 

“lim! over here!” kyle, one of her friends, calls out. she made her way past the sea of dancing drunks and sat with her group. “get me a drink, kyle.” she said, making the group laugh. “wow, hello to you, too.” he sassed before getting up to get mikha’s go-to. “sinong target mo today, mikhs? (who's your target of the day, mikhs?)” evan asked with a smirk on his face. “kakarating ko lang, van. (i just got here, van.) let me drink first, then that question will be easy to answer.” 

kyle shortly came back to the table with mikha’s drink, sliding it over to her excitedly. “thanks, kyle.” she dragged, taking a sip from the glass. “okay, you drank na. who’re you going after?” evan pushed, causing the group to laugh. “what if you just sit and relax, mikhs? it won’t hurt to go a night without sleeping with a random girl.” aiah suggested, foolishly, mikha thought. she scoffed, shaking her head. “ate aiah, where’s the fun in that? besides, i’m not in the mood to sleep with someone tonight.”

“then?”

“baka make out lang... (probably just make out...)”

and that’s exactly what she did.

as soon as she got a little tipsy, she moved to the dance floor and picked a girl up without even trying. she pushed the girl against the wall, her lips on hers and hands on her waist. mikha had no idea what her name was or where she came from. they made small talk before, but mikha didn’t bother listening. she knew where this was gonna lead and she didn’t want to waste time remembering details about someone she was never going to see again. 

she pulled away from the girl, who’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “this was fun, thanks…?”

“jen! my name is jen! but it’s okay if you don’t remember! you wanna get out of here? we can get out of here!” she asked, eager to spend more time with mikha. she slowly let go of jen’s waist, squinting her eyes before shaking her head. “nah, i’m good. you have a good night, though.” and with that, she left the girl alone in the bathroom stunned and embarrassed. 

she made her way back to her group’s table, all eyeing her with amusement in their eyes. “what?” she asked, grabbing a fry from the basket they were all sharing. “who was it?”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” she shrugs, grabbing another fry to try and end the conversation.

“maybe you should check your hair and makeup before you leave the bathroom, lim.” kyle teased, catching mikha off guard. “shit, is it bad?”

gwen laughed before passing her a wet wipe. “nakakatawa ka, mikhs. (you’re funny, mikhs)”

“i don’t even remember her name. it was like jane something..?”

“jen?! jen santos?! you made out with jen santos?!” evan yelped, letting out the biggest laugh. “what’s wrong..? she was pretty.”

“yeah, she’s pretty. but she’s like.. obsessed with you. i heard she’s been trying to catch you at one of these things so she’s gone to every club in the area.”

“are you being for real..? what if we’re talking about different jens?” mikha suggested. but evan was quick to whip his phone out and show her jen’s account. “is this her?”

“oh..”

evan let out another laugh, causing kyle to laugh with him. “she’s just gonna keep coming here now! we need to find another place!” they joked, earning an eye roll from her. “she’s probably not that bad, you’re just–”

“mikha!” a voice calls out, catching everyone’s attention. it was jen. she walked over to their table a little too excitedly, standing over mikha and placing her hand on her shoulder. “i think you should rethink your decision, malapit lang ang place ko! (my place is near!) we could dip right now.” she offered, trying to be seductive. “ah.. i’m good, jane.” mikha replied, removing her hand off of her shoulder. “it’s jen, pero okay lang! (but it’s okay!) you wanna sit with me? nakaupo lang ako doon. (i’m just sitting there)”

“i’m good.. i’m here with my friends. you have a good night, though.” she smiled politely, trying her best to send her away. “oh, okay! i’ll catch you mamaya (later)! i’ll get your number or something.” 

mikha simply nodded as the girl walked away, extremely giddy from the interaction. “shit.. no wonder why it was so much easier.” they all laughed at her, echoes of various comments following. “this is why you should’ve listened to me and stayed still.” aiah joked, but meant it.

“next time, i won’t even look at a girl.” her friends snickered knowing that would never be possible.

you were a casual sports enjoyer, being in a sports enthusiastic school – you couldn’t escape it. everyone would go to all the games, basketball, volleyball. it was one of the few things that brought everyone together, but it never came above your academics. 

it wasn’t like all you did was study, you liked to think you had a healthy school life balance, going out with your friends whenever they wanted to hang out, seeing some people here and there. you were able to maintain a good social life with good grades and that was more than some people could wish for. 

and your unexpected ‘attention’ really did help you get through a lot. it all started when you helped your best friend, jay, out with his band, x:o’s set at a local event. they were starting to become popular, their songs being played across the country. they were heavily praised for their good music and well.. good looks. 

x:o consisted of five members, jay, jake, stephen, ricky and evan. they were indeed a group of attractive young men and managed to put out really good music. after the gig, the group’s account dedicated a post thanking those who helped out and you managed to catch the eyes of a lot of fans. 

after the post, your social media accounts started to gain traction, earning a few thousand followers in the time span of a week. you appreciated the attention, but with your focus on school, you were never really active on social media, only posting a few pictures and a few tweets here and there. the attention only grew from there as more and more people started to approach you, later sharing on social media how kind and down to earth you were or how pictures didn’t do you justice. jay teased you for it all the time, joking about how he should be your manager since he’s the reason why all of this started. 

your entire friend group has never missed a gig of theirs, but people only ever pointed you out. you and jay started to gain attention as a pair, people getting suspicious by how close you were, eventually leading to them thinking that you were dating. both of you never made an effort to shut the rumours down as you simply didn’t care. (and it helped jay a little with the people who would flirt with him)

your group would laugh at the posts knowing that you looooved women. you were jealous of jay because of the girls that would approach him; some very attractive girls. ‘i should’ve joined a band’ you would joke whenever a girl would speak to him.

x:o landed a gig at the vault, a very popular club in the area. every weekend this place was crowded, which is why this gig is a big deal. jay was setting up with his band while the rest of you (except angelo) had started drinking. “thanks sa food, ate jho! (thanks for the food, jho!)” sheena shrieked, stuffing her face with the food jhoanna bought for her. “wala yun… dapat magpasalamat ka kay y/n kasi treat niya ‘to. (it’s nothing, you should actually be thanking y/n since this is her treat.)” she glared, causing you to laugh. “okay lang yun, jho! libre kita next time, bribe lang kasi ‘to. (that’s okay, jho! i’ll take care of it next time, this was only just a bribe.)”

“ang daming tao rito, mga walay batasan. (there are so many people here, people with no manners.)” colet commented, kissing her teeth and subtly glaring at everyone she saw. “yun oh, yung naka green, suntukin ko siya, beh– (that one, the one wearing green, i’m gonna punch her–)”

“nakarating pa lang natin, may suntukin ka agad? (we just arrived and you’ve already found someone to punch?)” 

whilst your group started bickering about colet’s impulsive (and violent) thoughts, the nation’s girlfriend had arrived with her group of friends. “guys, we were just here last week.” mikha complained, getting dragged by kyle. “since when have you ever been against clubbing?” kyle asked, “besides, we’re here for evan. supportive friends tayo diba? (we’re supportive friends, right?) our little rockstar, performing at our favourite club. full circle moment na ‘to, guys. umiiyak na ako. (this is a full circle moment, guys. i'm crying now.) ” the girls rolled their eyes at his drama, hitting him with teasing comments about how lame he was.

your two groups were together more often than anyone realised. despite having friends in the same band; your friend groups never came in contact with each other. jay was familiar with evan’s friends and evan was familiar with jay’s friends, but their friends knowing each other wasn’t the case.

mikha slid over to the bar, smiling at the bartender as a non-verbal order. she was here all the time and was very familiar with all the staff. while waiting, she looked around to observe the crowd and her eyes landed on an unfamiliar face. she stared at you for a few seconds, growing more and more curious as she watched you from a distance. feeling someone’s gaze, you turned to the side and locked eyes with the particular redhead. the both of you held eye contact until a glass was placed in front of her. she turned away from you to thank him and immediately turned her head back to your direction, but to her disappointment; you were gone. 

she brought her drink over to their booth, everyone curious about her expressions. “nangyare? (what happened?) you good?” gwen asked, concerned. “yeah, i just think i found my girl for the night.”

“ayan ka na naman. (here you go again.)” aiah sneered, shaking her head. “sino ba? (who is it?)” 

“i don’t know yet eh, but i’ll find out.”

you got back to your group with snacks in hand, sitting down next to sheena. “nakita ko yung atenean na volleyball player (i saw that atenean volleyball player). the redhead.” 

“ah, mikha lim? nandito siya? (she’s here?)” jhoanna asked. “is that her name?”

“yeah, kaibigan ata siya ni evan. bakit? (i think she’s friends with evan. why?)” gelo replied, throwing a peanut into his mouth.

you shrugged and took a sip of your drink, “wala lang (nothing), she’s pretty.”

“her fans call her the nation’s girlfriend,” gelo added, making sheena giggle. “seryoso! (i’m serious!) babaero yan. (she’s a player)”

“ang corny, (how corny)” she added. you rolled your eyes at her, although you did agree. but you did see why they called her that. you only needed one glance to see that she was attractive. 

as time went by, more drinks were bought. kyle was already failing to stand up straight and the band had yet to start. both groups made their way to the front of the stage, cheering as the much anticipated band started preparing for their entrance. “the vault, let’s make some noise!” cheers erupted as the five members walked onto the stage, all their faces laced with excitement and determination. “are we ready to have some fun tonight?” jake beckoned with his bass guitar in his hand. the cheers grew louder, all of you grinning at jay as you saw the excitement on his face, “this is ‘looking for somebody (to love)’, hope you enjoy!”

the familiar guitar melody started playing, jay and stephen immediately getting into it. everyone in the crowd started dancing along as jay started singing the first verse. mikha coolly bopped her head to the music, trying her best to avoid contact with random strangers. you were on the other side of the stage as she caught your eye, her red hair made it easy for her to stick out in a crowd. you admired how elegant her small movements managed to be, smiling briefly as you watched her dance with her friends. coincidentally, she looked up and locked eyes with you once again. a small smirk crawled across her face, pleased with the fact that she had your attention in this crowd. you sent a small smile her way before turning away to dance with jhoanna. she couldn't tear her eyes off of you. she needed to have you.

a few songs after, the crowd seemed to quiet down. “should we slow it down a little? gusto niyo ba? (would you guys like that?)” jay asked, playing with his earpiece.

“this is fallingforyou.”

What time you coming out? 

We started losing light

mikha turned to find you, seeing you leaning on colet. you felt her gaze on you, tilting your head as your eyes met once again. she was amused, but she didn’t know why. there was something about you that was so alluring. she moved to face the band before turning back to look at you, but you were gone. again.

“uh, guys, i’ll be back.” she said, eyes searching through the crowd to find you. “yeah, yeah. have fun, mikhs.” they replied, knowing what she was leaving to do.

she pushed past dozens of people on the dance floor, relentlessly trying to find you. after getting past what felt like hundreds of people, she finally found you standing against a wall near the side exit with your arms crossed. 

“eager, are we?” you asked as she walked towards you. “no.. not really. i mean, you must be though, right? leaving the crowd to wait for me here?” she grinned, standing over you. “who says i’m waiting for you?”

“your eyes are telling me everything i need to know.” she mumbled, hand travelling to your waist. “everything? really?” 

And on this night and in this light

“am i wrong? do you have something else to say to me?” 

you hummed, pretending to think, letting her pull you closer towards her. “bilisan mo na. (hurry up.) i’ve been thinking about you for almost an hour now. my patience is running out.” she complained, ducking her head into your hair, taking in the scent of your shampoo. your breath hitched as her face moved closer to yours, “can i?”

you replied by grabbing her neck and placing your lips eagerly onto hers. mikha let out a breath of content, pleased with the contact you two were finally making. she gripped onto your waist, soothing you with caresses every now and then. 

I think I’m falling, I’m falling for you

your lips moved against each other with vigour, pouring out all of the lust and need you managed to have for each other in a short period of time. for the first time in forever, mikha was excited. she loved the feeling of your lips against hers, the faint scent of your shampoo, how you felt in her hands. she didn’t want to stop kissing you.

you pulled away briefly, placing your head on her shoulder, trying to catch your breath. “you.. i...” she began, unable to form words. you laughed and patted her cheek, not bothering to speak as you knew you’d go through the same struggle. “you wanna get out of here?” she managed, looking down at you with lidded eyes. “i’d love to, but i’m here with my friends.” you answered, the taller girl clearly not pleased with your answer. “please,” she whined, wrapping her arms around your waist to bring you into a hug. “i don’t even know your name, i can’t leave with you.” you laughed, hugging her back regardless. “my name’s mikha, can we go now?”

you laughed once again against her shoulder, shaking your head. “well, mikha. i still can’t leave with you.” 

“thank you all so much! we’re x:o, we hope to perform for you guys again soon! mag ingat kayong lahat! (take care everyone)” you heard from the speakers, causing you to fix your posture. you slowly let go of mikha, getting an annoyed groan out of her. “i have to go, it was nice meeting you, though! mag ingat ka, ha? (take care of yourself, okay?)”

“wait, what?”

“i’ll see you, mikha.” you smiled, locking lips with her once more before you ran into the crowd to find your friends. 

“wait! i don’t even know your name!” 

mikha groaned, throwing her head into her hands. who cares if you were with your friends? she could take care of you (in more ways than one). she stayed there for a few minutes, trying to fight off the warm feeling you left her with. she made her way back to her friends shortly after, evan finally joining them. “mikhs! i was wondering if you were gonna come back. you okay?” aiah asked as she sat down next to her. mikha defeatedly dropped her head onto aiah’s shoulder and sighed, “yeah..” was all she let out.

she felt frustrated, you brought her so much excitement and even if she wanted to do it again (which she did); she wouldn’t be able to. this was the first time she wished she made some sort of small talk before, because other than the taste of your lips and the scent of your shampoo – she knew nothing about you. 

you rushed back to your friends, blindly trying to fix your appearance before reaching them. you saw colet waiting besides the door that led backstage. “well, well, well.” colet began, “nakakatawa ka talaga, beh. (you’re really funny.)” she laughed before dragging you inside. “look who i found. bumalik siya, guys. (she came back, guys.)” you rolled your eyes at her before hugging jay, “good job, jayboy! you did great tonight.”

“eh, pano mo malalaman? nawala ka bigla. (how would you know? you just disappeared.)” sheena joked, sticking her tongue out at you. “i heard the entire set! ano ka ba? (what are you saying) i was just doing something.” "right.. right.. you should fix your makeup, y/n. that something didn't really hold back."

“what?!” you asked, grabbing the mirror jhoanna was holding out for you and immediately turned around in embarrassment. you quickly tried rubbing the lipstick marks off your face as your friends laughed at you.  

“whatever, guys. basta (anyway), good job, jay.” 

he laughed but was thankful for the support. "it's okay, y/n. it's a club! i encourage this behaviour, in fact - i endorse it." you rolled your eyes at him as he slung his arm around your shoulders. "let's go na? back to mine? we can get food and drinks on the way." he suggested, wanting a more intimate celebration. "paano ang mga bandmates mo? celebration niyo? (how about your bandmates? your celebration?)" angelo asked. "we had our little moment na after the show. bukas yung celebration namin. okay lang. ready na ba tayo? (we'll have our celebration tomorrow. it's okay. are we ready?)" you all agreed and hurriedly made your way out of the venue. 

mikha spent the rest of the night trying to find you, not knowing you left from the back exit.

“god, mikhs. who the hell did you hook up with? you’ve been so out of it since you came back.” kyle commented, evidently noticing her friend’s odd behaviour. “i wish i knew, i literally don’t know what her name is. i feel like an idiot, i begged her, for fuck’s sake. i don’t beg.” she complained, taking another sip of her drinking, causing aiah to take it away. “okay, that’s enough for tonight. lasing ka na, uminom ka na ng tubig. (you’re already drunk, you should drink water now.)” mikha groaned at her but listened anyway.

“can you describe her?”

“ganda. pretty. cute. ganda. hot. pretty. gwapa. i don’t know,” she slurred, slamming her head down on the table dramatically. “whatever, i don’t even care.” she continued.

mikha got over you the next day, but slowly, a week went by and you still occasionally managed to cross her mind. she still wondered about who you were and unfortunately still wanted to see you again, but there were plenty of fish in the sea and you know, it wasn’t that serious.

– hope u enjoy..... @yumtooki :3

[phamminji]

LONG LIVE USER MIINATOZAKIII

i hope your pillows are forever cold on both sides when you sleep.

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.)

[phamminji]

Are your works femreader or gender neutral? Just a quick question

currently the works i have put out are fem!reader 😸

[phamminji]

how do u feel about having a tiktok edit song abt u

i have an tiktok edit song about me....?

for what? my clownery? HELP

[phamminji]

WAIT LET ME COOK IM ACTUALLY GETTING BINI IDEAS FR NOW

at this ungodly hour of course....

[phamminji]

and what if i cried

04 ━━━ YOU'RE LOSING ME

warnings: angst, swearing, overworking, strained marriage, divorce

word count: 5.6k

synopsis: your ex-wife receives an invite to your wedding, but will she let you say "i do" for a second time?

previous | masterlist | next

after 5 years of being on the backburner, y/n knew she had enough of the marriage. 

you say, "i don't understand," and i say, "i know you don't"

we thought a cure would come through in time, now i fear it won't

the backroom that overlooked the skyline of the city was both her favorite and soyeon's favorite part of their home. soyeon especially loved it because of the lighting, especially during the sunset. when they bought the home, they turned it into a second living room. during the early days of their marriage, the two spent hours together watching movies or just simply having a glass of wine or two. nowadays, y/n used it as the perfect place to cry. 

remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light

now, i just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time

the curtains were always shut closed, never letting the light shine into the home. y/n didn’t want to do anything when she sat in that room. she didn’t know how long she spent there on a daily basis, but it was easily over an hour or two. the former idol would just sit in the darkness, listening to the hum of the air conditioning unit while she either sobbed or sat in silence. 

a marriage consisted of two people, so why did she feel so alone in her own?

she loved soyeon, and was well aware of the responsibilities that lingered over her head. however, her spouse was well into her career as a ceo now. the company was doing phenomenal, and soyeon had even hired an even more phenomenal staff team. there was no reason for soyeon to not be home anymore. 

do i throw out everything we built or keep it?

i'm getting tired even for a phoenix

y/n didn’t understand how her wife could not be bothered with being away from home for so long. the former idol even thought about pretending to go for an interview at soyeon’s company just so she could see her wife. 

of course, there were times where the younger girl went and showed up to surprise her wife with lunch or dinner. however, the ceo was always in a meeting or could only spare a few short minutes together while she was on a phone call.

in the beginning, it felt manageable. it felt tolerable. now, it was not any of those.

always risin' from the ashes

mendin' all her gashes

you might just have dealt the final blow

“you should see someone, maybe talk to a therapist about it?” yuqi said gently as she sipped her coffee across from the other girl. y/n had met up with her former groupmate for a quick coffee to get some fresh air and try and enjoy her day for once.

the married woman gently traced the top of her cup, staring at her reflection in the dark colored drink. “i don’t think it would help change my mind.” y/n said as she poked the inside of her cheek with her tongue.

yuqi's expression softened with concern. “y/n, it's not just about changing your mind. it's about finding clarity and peace for yourself. you deserve that at least.”

she sighed, feeling the weight of her thoughts pressing down on her. “i know, but sometimes it feels like no matter what i do, nothing will change.”the café was bustling with life around them, but the married woman felt detached from the vibrant energy. 

she had been running on empty for so long, and the thought of seeking professional help seemed both daunting and futile. 

“give it a try, at least,” yuqi urged gently. “you've been carrying this alone for too long.” y/n nodded slowly, dismissing what she already knew to be true. 

“i'll think about it.”

stop, you're losing me

“have you thought about marriage counseling?” the therapist across from her asked, shuffling through a pile of loose papers. she was an older woman, and from the ring on her finger, also married. y/n wondered if their marriage was anything like hers.

y/n fought the urge to roll her eyes at the question, but simply cleared her throat before answering.

“my wife won’t even come home for dinner, much less a counseling session.”

stop, you're losing me

thankfully, the therapist’s timer went off, signaling the end of their session. “i’ll see you next week,” she said as she stood and smiled. “try and practice what we suggested. meditation could help a lot.”

y/n drove home that afternoon feeling more heavy than she had going into the session. all her therapist suggested was to basically beg soyeon to come home or just try and ignore it, but of course in a “healthy” way.

“bullshit.” she muttered under her breath as she stopped at a red light. glancing at her surroundings, she noticed a building straight ahead of her. it was a divorce lawyers office. 

divorce. the word used to terrify her. now, not so much.

stop, you're losing me

y/n gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles turning white as she stared at the sign for the divorce lawyer’s office. the idea of divorce had once seemed impossible, an admission of failure. it meant that she would be alone, permanently. 

however, it couldn’t feel too different from the way she felt right now.

the red light turned green, and instead of driving past, she made a spontaneous decision and turned into the parking lot. she sat in the car for a few moments, taking deep breaths to calm her racing heart. this was it. the first step toward reclaiming her life. 

with a final resolute breath, she got out of the car and walked toward the entrance. the receptionist greeted her warmly, and without thinking, y/n blurted out the first words that came to her mind.

“i think i need to get a divorce.”

i can't find a pulse

my heart won't start anymore for you

within minutes, she was seated in an office, speaking with a lawyer who listened intently to her story. “divorce is never easy,” the man said gently. “but it sounds like you’ve been dealing with this for a long time. we can help you navigate this process and find a resolution that works for you.” 

she scheduled a follow-up appointment to discuss the next steps and left the office with a packet of information, feeling a strange sense of serenity. as she drove home, the weight on her shoulders felt a little lighter. 

she was no longer waiting for soyeon to change.

'cause you're losing me

the next morning, y/n stayed in bed just a bit longer. soyeon’s faint scent still lingered on the sheets, and she felt her heart ache with every inhale. 

she didn’t know when she started crying. maybe it was when she fell asleep. maybe it was when she woke up. 

y/n missed her wife. she missed feeling loved. she missed being a priority. weren’t all marriages supposed to be a priority? why wasn’t hers?

the former idol stayed in bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind swirling with memories of better times. she remembered their wedding day, the laughter, the promises she and soyeon made to each other. 

how did their marriage end up like this? 

as the morning light filtered through the curtains, y/n knew she couldn't stay in bed forever. she needed to get up, to face the reality of her decision. slowly, she pulled herself out of bed, her movements sluggish and heavy. the woman glared at the framed photo of their wedding day as she made her way to the kitchen where she prepared a cup of coffee. the usual routine brought her a small measure of comfort.

sitting at the kitchen table, she opened the packet of information from the lawyer's office. the paperwork seemed daunting, but she reminded herself that this was a necessary step. each form she filled out, each line she signed, was a step toward freedom from this feeling.

every mornin', i glared at you with storms in my eyes

how can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dying?

the day dragged on, each minute feeling like an hour. y/n tried to distract herself by cleaning the house, re-organizing closets, and doing anything to keep her mind occupied. 

but no matter what she did, thoughts of soyeon lingered, and the emptiness in her chest refused to go away.

in the afternoon, she decided to take a walk. she thought the fresh air might help clear her mind. she put on her shoes and stepped outside, feeling the air on her face. the neighborhood was ambient, but quiet, and as she walked, she let her thoughts drift.

she remembered the early days of their relationship, the late-night talks, the shared dreams. they had been so in sync, so in love. when did things start to go wrong? when had they started to drift apart?

y/n walked to a nearby park and sat on a bench, watching children play and couples walk by hand in hand. she felt a pang of envy, wishing she could go back to those simpler times. but she knew that wasn't possible. she had waited around long enough. 

the only way forward was to accept the reality of her situation and move on.

i sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick

my face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick

soyeon returned home early that night. y/n sat in front of the dark tv, watching some american sitcom from the 70’s. there were no more tears left. she had nothing left to give soyeon, or their marriage.

“hi honey,” the ceo said as she set her things down by the shelf near the front door. “did you eat dinner already?” y/n was surprised the woman wasn’t on a phone call or busy rushing to grab her plate and run back to her office. 

“i finally got to go home early today, but there’s a monthly evaluation tomorrow that i’ll need to attend.”

soyeon said as she walked over to the couch, a bit confused with her wife’s silence. y/n didn't immediately respond, her eyes fixed on the tv but not really watching it. she felt soyeon's presence beside her, the weight of the unspoken words hanging heavily in the air.

“i didn't eat dinner,” y/n finally said, her voice void of emotion. she turned to face soyeon, seeing the confusion and concern in her eyes. all soyeon could see was someone that looked like the shell of her wife.

“we need to talk.”

soyeon's expression shifted, a flicker of worry crossing her features. "what is it, baby? are you feeling alright?” the older woman stuck her hand out to touch y/n’s forehead, but her wife simply moved her hand down.

“i’m fine,” taking a deep breath, y/n steadied herself. “we need to talk about us.”

soyeon's eyes widened, and she sat down heavily on the couch. whispers of her fears started to speak in her mind, and she felt a pit in her stomach forming at just the thought of where this conversation was headed.

“what are you saying?”

and the air is thick with loss and indecision

i know my pain is such an imposition

the former idol swallowed hard, the lump in her throat making it difficult to speak. “i’m saying that i can’t keep going like this. we’ve been drifting apart for a long time, and it’s not getting any better. i feel invisible.”

the ceo’s face paled. she opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. she simply looked at y/n, her eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and hurt. “invisible? how can you say that? i’ve been working so hard for us, for our future.”

y/n shook her head slowly, feeling a wave of sadness wash over her. “but what about our present? what about the time we’re supposed to be spending together now? you’re never here, and when you are, it’s like you’re not really with me.”

tears welled up in soyeon’s eyes. “but i thought you understood. i thought you supported me. this job, it’s important. for both of us.” she couldn’t imagine her wife thinking she was out doing nothing. everything soyeon did was for y/n.

the other woman’s voice softened, but her resolve remained firm. “i do support you. i’m proud of everything you’ve accomplished. but somewhere along the way, we lost each other. and i don’t know how to find our way back.”

now, you're runnin' down the hallway

and you know what they all say

“then let’s try and find our way back,” soyeon reached over and placed her hand on her wife’s thigh. “i can switch schedules and make more time to be home. it’s just been so busy with the new group debuting soon, and–”

“soyeon.”

y/n gently placed her hand over soyeon’s, her eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and determination. “we’ve been saying we’ll find time for us for years now. every time there’s a new project, a new deadline, and every time i’m left waiting. i can’t keep waiting.”

the ceo’s grip on y/n’s thigh tightened slightly, a desperate plea in her eyes. “baby, please. just give me one more chance. i’ll make it right, i promise. i’ll prioritize us. anything you want to do, we can do it. just name it.”

y/n simply shook her head and motioned to the stack of papers on the coffee table. soyeon’s heart dropped when she made out the faint words at the top. the silence in the room was deafening. 

you don't know what you got until it's gone

“no, i can’t lose you.” soyeon fell to her knees as she grabbed both of y/n’s hands, her own trembling. “please, y/n, don’t do this. we can still fix it. i can still fix it.”

y/n's eyes welled up with tears as she looked down at her wife. she wished she had it in her to believe her, but she didn’t. 

“i’m not happy anymore, soyeon.”

soyeon’s tears fell freely now, her face a mask of anguish. “but i love you. i don’t know how to do this without you.”

stop, you're losing me

y/n knelt down beside her, taking her hands in hers. “i love you too. but love isn’t enough when we’re both hurting. this isn’t what love is supposed to be.”

something in her wife’s expression was a mix of desperation and frustration seeping through her tears. “so you’re just going to walk away? just like that? after everything we’ve been through?”

the former idol's jaw clenched, her own frustration bubbling to the surface. y/n knew soyeon wouldn’t take this lightly. “i’ve been trying to make this work for years. i’ve been patient, i’ve been understanding, but nothing changes. you’re always too busy, always putting everything else before us, before me.”

“that's not fair!” soyeon snapped, standing up abruptly. “you know how hard this has been for me, too? you knew i had responsibilities.”

stop, you're losing me

“responsibilities?” y/n snapped, rising to her feet. “what about your responsibility to our marriage? to me? i’ve felt like a ghost in this goddamn house, soyeon.”

“of course i noticed!” soyeon yelled, her voice breaking. “do you think this is easy for me? i’ve done everything for you, for us! do you think it was easy for me to stay away? i had no choice.”

y/n’s eyes flashed with anger. “don’t you dare turn this around on me. i’ve been supportive, i’ve been there for you, i have been the only participant in this marriage for the past 5 years.”

soyeon's face flushed with guilt. she was well aware of her shortcomings in her matrimony, but to be confronted with them like this? it hurt, and she didn’t like it.

“you think i don’t know that? you think i wanted things to be like this? it’s my job to keep the company running well. but i work my ass off for us, for our future!” she

the younger woman let out a bitter laugh. “our future? what future, soyeon? the one where i keep waiting for you to come home, where i’m always second to your job?”

stop, you're losing me

the shorter woman’s emotions boiled over, her voice trembling with anger. “you're being selfish, y/n! you don't understand the pressure i'm under, the sacrifices i've had to make.”

“you can add our marriage to that list of sacrifices,” y/n's hissed, her own anger flaring. “and what of the sacrifices i've made? do you think it's easy for me to sit at home, alone, while you're out there, building your empire?”

“i never asked you to sacrifice anything”" soyeon shot back, her voice rising. “you chose to stay at home, to support me from the sidelines. don't act like it's my fault. you chose this.”

i can't find a pulse

my heart won't start anymore

for you

“you're right, i did choose to support you. but i didn't choose to be neglected, or to feel like i'm nothing more than an afterthought in your life.” y/n whispered, frustrated tears now falling from her own eyes. 

the shorter girl ran a hand through her hair as she started pacing. “i've never neglected you, y/n! i've always put us first, even if you don't see it.”

y/n scoffed, her voice dripping with bitterness. “putting us first? is that what you call it? because from where i'm standing, it looks like you're putting everything else first—your job, your career, your ambitions.”

soyeon whipped around, jaw clenched and patience wearing thin. “i'm doing what i have to do to provide for us, but all you seem to care about is what i'm not doing for you.”

'cause you're losing me

'cause you're losing me

y/n sat back down on the couch, holding her head in her hands. there was no way she could help her wife see her point of view. she didn’t know what else to say. it was never going to work, they were never going to work anymore.

“y/n,” soyeon whispered as she picked up the divorce papers. “why is this already filled out?” 

the mentioned woman looked up, eyes burning with frustration and hurt. “because i’m done, soyeon.”

soyeon's grip tightened on the divorce papers, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and desperation. “and what about me, y/n? what about my feelings? you act like i don't care, like i don't try, but i do! i do everything i can to make this work, and it's never enough!”

stop (stop) 'cause you're losing me

y/n's jaw clenched as she fought to hold back her tears. “for the millionth time, it's not about the sacrifices, soyeon. it's about the fact that i'm always second best to your job.”

the ceo’s eyes flashed with confusion and frustration. “but i have to work, y/n! i have responsibilities, i have people depending on me. i can't just drop everything all the time because you're feeling neglected!”

“well maybe if you actually made an effort to be here once in a while, i wouldn't feel neglected!" y/n shot back, her voice rising with each word. “maybe if you put half as much effort into our marriage as you do into your career, we wouldn't be in this mess!”

the room fell silent, the weight of their words hanging heavy in the air. soyeon's hands shook as she looked down at the divorce papers, her heart torn between her love for y/n and her commitment to her career. 

she knew that something had to change, but she didn't know if she was ready to let go of everything she had worked so hard for. her company was a growing superpower in the entertainment industry. but y/n was the love of her life.

my heart won't start anymore ('cause you're losing me)

my heart won't start anymore ('cause you're losing me)

“i have a follow-up appointment with the divorce lawyers on monday.” y/n whispered, reaching for a nearby tissue from the coffee table. “they’ll let us know what the next steps will be.”

“no.” soyeon said as she shook her head. “i thought both parties had to agree to a divorce. i don’t agree.”

y/n's heart sank at soyeon's words, a mix of frustration and disbelief washing over her. “you don't agree?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “you’ve seen me suffering for the past 5 years, and you have the nerve to say you don’t agree?”

how long could we be a sad song

'til we were too far gone to bring back to life?

soyeon's expression softened, her eyes pleading for understanding. "y/n, i know i've made mistakes, but i still believe we can work through this. we can't just throw away everything we've built together."

“tell me,” y/n's frustration bubbled over, her voice tinged with bitterness. "what have we built, soyeon?” the older girl fell silent at her wife’s words, simply racking her brain to try and find the right words to say. 

i gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy

and all i did was bleed as i tried to be the bravest soldier

the ceo’s silence only added fuel to y/n’s emotional fire. “in the five years that we have been married, what have we built together? you’ve built an empire, all for yourself. and i have built myself a prison in this marriage.”

“i’ve cooked you dinners that you don't eat, i’ve dealt with missed anniversaries and forgotten dates. i feel more like a maid for you than i do a wife.” y/n continued, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands. 

soyeon looked like her heart had just been pierced a million times. she had nothing to defend herself with. she knew her wife was right, even if she didn’t want to admit it.

“and all i ever got was nothing. crumbs of your love and time at the most. but a marriage cannot survive off of crumbs.” y/n added, watching as soyeon went back to pacing.

“and let’s not act like this isn’t the first fight we’ve gotten into about this,” she added while glancing at the time on the clock. “there was the time you deliberately ignored me.”

soyeon's pacing slowed as she listened to y/n's words, her chest tightening with each painful truth laid bare. she knew she had failed her wife in more ways than one, and the weight of her guilt threatened to consume her.

but as y/n spoke of their past fights, soyeon's mind flashed back to one particular memory—an argument that had shaken the very foundation of their marriage.

"i remember," soyeon whispered, her voice heavy with regret. "i remember that fight."

fighting in only your army

frontlines, don't you ignore me

“soyeon!” y/n hissed as she slammed her palms down on the ceo’s desk to force her to look at her. “you can’t just ignore me for 3 days because you don’t like the conversation.”

the air crackled with tension as y/n's words hung heavy in the room, each syllable laden with hurt and frustration. she watched as soyeon's expression hardened, her features tightening with annoyance at being interrupted.

but y/n refused to back down. she needed to make her understand, to bridge the growing chasm between them before it widened beyond repair. 

"please, soyeon," y/n implored, her voice softening slightly as she met her wife's gaze. "i know you're busy, but we need to talk about this. i can't keep feeling like i'm invisible to you."

soyeon's jaw tensed, her frustration evident in the way she clenched her fists at her sides. “i didnt want to miss our date," she finally admitted, her voice tinged with defensiveness. “but you know how important this meeting is for the company. i couldn't just cancel it.”

y/n's heart sank at the admission, the sting of disappointment cutting deep. she knew soyeon's dedication to her work was unwavering, but it didn't make the hurt any less painful. “i understand, i do,” y/n replied, her voice trembling with emotion. “but that doesn't change how i feel. i need you to be there for me, too.”

soyeon's gaze softened slightly, a flicker of remorse crossing her features. “i'm sorry, y/n,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “i need to go now, i have a meeting in 5.”

i'm the best thing at this party

(you're losing me)

“then there was the christmas party.”

soyeon’s annual company party was full of glitz and glamor, with the elite of the entertainment industry gracing the event with their presence. it was a night that soyeon looked forward to every year, an opportunity to network and showcase her company's ever growing success.

but for y/n, it was a different story. she had always felt like an outsider at these events, despite being a former idol herself. she was surrounded by unfamiliar faces and forced to navigate the social intricacies of the new entertainment world on her own. 

and this year was no different.

as the party buzzed with laughter and music, y/n found herself standing alone in a sea of faces, watching as soyeon worked the room with effortless charm. she had hoped that this year would be different, that soyeon would make an effort to include her in the festivities. but as the night wore on, it became clear that she was once again on the sidelines, forgotten and ignored.

when her ceo wife finally approached her, it was only to offer a brief apology before disappearing into the crowd once more. and as y/n watched her mingle with the guests, a sense of loneliness washed over her, a reminder of the gaping divide between them.

“you promised me that we would do this together,” y/n continued, her voice tinged with bitterness as she recalled the events of that fateful night. “but instead, you left me stranded, alone in a room full of strangers. again.”

soyeon's expression softened at the accusation, a flicker of guilt crossing her features. “i didn't mean to leave you behind,” she insisted, her voice laced with regret. “i just had to make sure i made a good impression with the investors, they’re the best thing to happen to the company.”

‘but i’m supposed to be the best thing to happen to you’ was what y/n wanted to argue with. however, for the sake of the night, she bit her tongue.

and i wouldn't marry me either

a pathological people pleaser

“you’re serving me with divorce papers and telling me everything is my fault?” the ceo scoffed, disbelief and hurt in her eyes. “you’re putting all the blame on me?”

y/n rose to her feet quickly. “yes because i’m not the one who is putting us second.”

silence passed for a few beats, and y/n could see anger swirling in her wife’s irises. “you know what?” soyeon hissed before slamming the papers onto the coffee table. 

“i should’ve never married you.”

who only wanted you to see her

and i'm fadin', thinkin'

but as the words hung in the air, a heavy silence settled between them, suffocating the room with its weight. y/n's heart sank at soyeon's admission, the pain of rejection cutting deep into her soul. if there wasn’t a final straw before, this surely was it.

“you don't mean that,” y/n whispered, her voice barely above a whisper as she struggled to hold back her tears. “you can't mean that.”

but soyeon remained silent, her gaze fixed on the floor as she wrestled with her own emotions. and in that moment, y/n felt the walls closing in around her, trapping her in a suffocating embrace of heartache and despair.

“i should've never married you,” soyeon repeated, her voice hollow and empty as she spoke the words aloud again for a second time. and as the reality of their crumbling marriage washed over them, y/n couldn't help but wonder if they had ever stood a chance at happiness in the first place.

"do something, babe, say something" (say something)

“then there truly is no reason for us to be married any longer.” y/n finally said with a shaky breath, tears falling from her eyes freely. deep down, part of her screamed at her wife. she wanted soyeon to fall to her knees and try and fix it, to leave the company for her and the sake of their marriage.

"lose something, babe, risk something" (you're losing me)

soyeon wiped her own eyes and turned her back to the younger woman. y/n watched her face forward again after a few moments, emotions at an all time high.

with trembling hands of anger and hurt, the ceo reached for the divorce papers on the coffee table, her heart heavy with sorrow. she picked up the pen and signed her name on the dotted line, officially agreeing to a mutual separation.

however, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was signing away not just their marriage, but a piece of her own soul.

"choose something, babe, i got nothing (got nothing) to believe, unless you're choosin' me"

“i’ll sleep in the guest room. just leave by monday night.” soyeon said bitterly, leaving her pen on the table while y/n sat with her head in her hands once more. to see her wife’s name on that paper was what she did want, but not like this.

this hurt more than asking for the divorce in the first place.

soyeon left the room without a second glance, leaving behind an atmosphere heavy with unspoken regrets and shattered hearts. the younger girl sat in silence, the weight of their failed marriage pressing down on her shoulders like a suffocating blanket.

as the sound of soyeon's footsteps faded into the distance, y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of profound loss wash over her. 

you're losing me

she had thought that by taking this step, she would find some measure of closure, some semblance of peace. but now, all she felt was emptiness.

with a heavy heart, y/n rose from her seat and made her way to the guest room, the weight of the moment hanging heavily in the air. she knew that their marriage was over, that there was no going back now. 

but as she settled into bed, surrounded by the echoes of their broken promises, she couldn't help but wonder what might have been. what their life would've looked like if her soon to be ex-wife had put the relationship before her career.

stop (stop, stop), you're losing me

what y/n didn’t know was that soyeon regretted signing that paper immediately after she did it. 

the ceo tossed and turned in her own bed, haunted by the memory of signing her name on those divorce papers. the weight of her decision bore down on her, suffocating her with remorse and regret.

as she lay there in the darkness, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had made a terrible mistake. the realization hit her like a tidal wave, flooding her with a sense of panic and desperation. she had been so consumed by her career, so blinded by her ambitions, that she had failed to see what truly mattered. 

and now, faced with the prospect of losing the love of her life, she felt a profound sense of loss wash over her.

stop (stop, stop), you're losing me

but as the hours passed and the night wore on, soyeon found herself grappling with a difficult truth. no matter how much she regretted her decision, no matter how desperately she wished she could turn back time, she knew that some mistakes were irreversible.

with a heavy heart and tears in her eyes, soyeon whispered a silent prayer into the darkness. she didn’t care who was listening, or if no deity was listening at all.

“please,” she heaved out. “let me fix this.”

she knew that despite her deepest desires, some wounds could never fully heal. and as the first light of dawn painted the sky, she realized that her chance to salvage their marriage had slipped through her fingers.

her denial crumbled the moment she saw y/n had left her wedding ring on the counter. 

i can't find a pulse

with a heavy heart, soyeon accepted the painful truth: she had lost y/n, perhaps forever. and though the regret weighed heavily upon her, she knew that she had to accept the consequences of her actions.

y/n had only lost a marriage that wasn’t benefiting her. it was the best thing for her at the time. soyeon had lost the love of her life. it was the worst thing she could have ever experienced.

in the end, both women were left grappling with the consequences of their choices. y/n had found freedom, while soyeon remained trapped in the prison of her own making. 

and as they each navigated their separate paths, they couldn't help but wonder if they would ever find their way back to one another.

my heart won't start anymore

a/n: pretend i posted this months ago...

[phamminji]

Omg BINI fic?!?! That’s so lovely. That’s all I have to say. Along with Colet is a lovely choice as well. >:]

bini is definitely a group i would want to write for. THE IDEAS ARENT REALLY BUBBLING THOUGH 🥹

[phamminji]

i never denied that she’s pretty.

HEHEHEHE

[phamminji]

it was the anesthesia from the stitches. this is just a moment of weakness.. the anesthesia is long gone

so are you admitting now pretty girl pretty girl? 🤭

[phamminji]

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD A PART 2

FALLING — kim minjeong x f!reader

marriage life was great. minjeong was the best wife you could ever ask for; she’s sweet, caring, patient… the list goes on. she’s your favourite person, even when upset, you still think she’s the cutest.

TAGS — fluff, zero angst, ceo!minjeong, arranged marriage!au, established relationship, jealousy, continuation of daydreamin’

WORDCOUNT — 3.7k

being married to minjeong was like a dream. you had to constantly remind yourself by staring at the gleaming diamond ring wrapped around your finger. the weight of the ring on your finger never fails to bring a smile onto your face. already grinning at the thought, you turn your whole body, watching it shine in the moonlight.

unfortunately, turning to face the window meant turning away from the warmth of a body— minjeong’s. the girl stills in her sleep, groaning slightly and snuggling deeper into your hair. you take a peek at the sleeping girl, but take no action in turning back. seemingly upset, minjeong’s face furrows into a look of displeasure. slowly, her hand trails along the naked skin of your waist exposed by your sleep shirt riding up. a firm grip of your waist and you’re pulled back into her embrace. it was ironic that the cold girl was an extreme cuddler in her sleep.

she lets out a sigh, relieved that you were finally back in her arms. you retract your hand from admiring the ring in the moonlight back down to rub small circles over the back of minjeong’s hand. your wife doesn’t make any more movements, signalling to you that she’s finally fallen into deep sleep. it makes you content that minjeong is getting the rest she needs. after a rather exhausting day at the company, minjeong had come home, hair tousled and eye bags deeper than usual. you couldn’t help but notice the tremendous amount of yawns she let out during dinner.

if it wasn’t for her growling stomach, you would have immediately put her to bed. yet, she seemed equally hungry and tired. it had been a few months since she first brought up the deal with one of the businesses in china and minjeong had told you that they finally sealed it this week. you couldn’t believe your wife was the ceo of a company when she was jumping up and down joyfully. if she had a tail, it would be wagging.

(“minjeong, has anyone told you that you look like a puppy?”

“are you calling me a bitch? and yes, yizhuo said i look like a dog.”)

you were glad minjeong was such a competent worker who only strived for perfection. her work ethic was insane, and the company’s success spoke proudly of it. however, you just wished she could take a break sometimes. it seemed like her mind was overtaken with business and work. maybe your wife was a workaholic. that didn’t stop her from leaving the company building at exactly 5pm to get home to eat dinner with you though.

it only made your feelings blossom even further for her. kim minjeong, who cannot stay away from her job for less than a day, comes home on time to eat dinner with her wife. it was endearing. a whiny groan from minjeong makes you turn your head to her. minjeong had somehow burrowed her head even further into the crook of your neck, cheeks squished between the pillow and your shoulder.

ah, kim minjeong was so cute.

smiling softly at your wife, your eyelids flutter shut, relishing in the warmth that minjeong provides, for both your body, and your heart.

the ray of sunlight beaming through the slit of the curtains is the first thing you see. it hits your eyes directly, forcing you to turn away from the window. the second thing you notice is that the warmth previously surrounding your body is gone. frowning, you open your eyes, disappointed that minjeong wasn’t by your side anymore. yawning and stretching your arms out, you peer around the room. the duvet has been neatly folded to cover your whole body and the pillows on minjeong’s side of the bed are tidied up against the headboard. you get up from the bed and quickly brush your teeth and shower.

fresh out of the shower, you notice the bedroom door is slightly ajar, leaving a crack for the aroma of pancake batter to seep in. your stomach gurgles unintentionally at the hint of breakfast, and your heart lightens when you realise minjeong’s probably in the kitchen and you can spend extra seconds with her.

padding your way to the kitchen down the stairs, the sight of minjeong with her now blonde hair tied sleekly back. her body is adorned with a cute, frilly, white apron that is knotted at her waist. it makes you swoon.

your wife is humming a familiar tune, you deduce that it’s one of the many harry styles songs she’s made you listen to. slowly, you walk closer to minjeong, who’s still unaware of your presence.

“mindoongie,” you greet, “good morning.”

minjeong jumps, gasping as the spatula in her hand falls onto the counter. she turns to you, eyes wide.

“you scared me, baby,” she sighs, picking up the fallen spatula and transferring the last pancake from the hot skillet onto a plate, neatly decorated with an assortment of various fruits. you giggle apologetically, “sorry, i thought you heard me coming.”

your wife shakes her head and carries the two plates to the kitchen island. you take a seat on one of the barstools, eyes laser-focused on the dripping maple syrup cascading down the pancakes like a waterfall. your mouth salivates.

“this looks so good.”

“I’m glad,” minjeong takes the seat next to you, gently slicing through the pancakes and tasting it, “i think i’m getting pretty good at cooking. maybe we won’t need mr park anymore.”

mr park was minjeong’s private chef, one that her father had hired.

“mhm,” your cheeks are stuffed full of pancake, “it tastes really good. but mr park makes the best soybean noodles.”

minjeong’s eyelashes flutter as her gaze lands on you, “really? i think the one you make tastes better.”

“you’re just saying that, you flirt,” you swat at her shoulder. your wife pouts and it’s adorable.

“i’m not,” and god, minjeong whines. it’s seriously harming you with how cute your wife is. is it possible to fall in love with someone twice? you might need to look it up. maybe you had an obsession— it would make perfect sense. everything that you see, touch, feel, they all instantly connect back to minjeong. you eat at a new restaurant; minjeong would like the tiramisu here. you hear a new pop song on the radio; minjeong would like this song. you see a pretty dress while shopping; minjeong would look amazing in it.

everything reminded you of her.

was that a blessing or a curse?

you hoped it was the former, but with the way she’s almost given you heart attacks with her puppy eyes, perhaps it was the latter.

a poke is felt on your cheek, distracting you from your imagination of minjeong’s puppy eyes. your wife stares at you cheekily, fingers squishing your face, “what are you thinking about?”

“thinking about you,” you answer honestly.

minjeong laughs, “seriously? that’s so cliche.”

you shrug. she only repeats, “what are you actually doing?”

“i’m doing something cliche,” you retort, stuffing a piece of pancake soaked in butter and syrup into your mouth. minjeong merely scoffs, not out of annoyance, maybe out of disbelief that you were still so cheesy.

“i have something to ask,” minjeong says out of the blue. you’re chowing down the last piece of delicious pancake and savouring the flavour when she suddenly springs a question.

“i have a company banquet i’m obliged to attend. will you be my date?”

you hesitantly nod. minjeong’s whole face brightens up, “really?”

“uh, yeah sure.” sensing your reluctance, minjeong slides a comforting hand over yours. “you can always say no if you want.”

swallowing, you reply, “it’s okay, i want to go with you. i’m just worried that i won’t be that extroverted or eager in making business deals or whatever.”

minjeong guffaws, “baby, all you have to do is be right beside me and i would be the happiest woman alive.”

“okay, romeo, you don’t have to flatter me, i’m already going.” minjeong just shrugs, “is it really flattering if it’s the truth?”

you take a large gulp of water.

“when’s the company banquet?”

minjeong flashes you a bashful smile.

“tonight.”

“kim minjeong—”

you pull the hem of your dress to cover the skin of your thighs. minjeong had picked out a black, fitting dress, akin to the one you wore to the family dinner a few months back. staring at the mirror, you take a seat down facing the vanity desk.

“baby,” minjeong calls out from the walk-in closet, “can you come help me?” you stand up, peering in the closet. your wife was facing a full length mirror, her body adorned by a two piece black pantsuit. it matches your black dress rather well.

“do you think this looks good?” she asks. you brush at her shoulders, admiring how good your wife looks. you run your fingers through her messy blonde hair, trying to calm the locks of golden.

minjeong sighs into your touch. “you��ll look great in anything, but this makes me want to jump you.” your wife preens at the praise, like a cute puppy.

“c’mon, let’s go already, it’s almost 6.”

you pull minjeong’s arm, dragging her to the front door. the chauffeur is waiting patiently on the driveway. after getting in the car, minjeong whips out her phone, fingers rapidly working against the keyboard. curious, you peek at the chat.

“it’s jimin unnie,” minjeong explains, “she’s going to be there too. along with some of my other friends.” nodding, you let your head remain hovering above her shoulder. minjeong glances at you.

“you can sleep if you want to. it’s a twenty minute drive,” she whispers, gently moving your head onto her shoulder. drowsy, you let your eyelids close, your hands instinctively going to rest on top of minjeong’s lap. you feel her hand slither into your palm. grasping the warmth, you eventually fall asleep, blonde hair and lopsided smiles burned into the back of your mind.

the comfort disappears soon after. your eyelids flutter open as minjeong brushes the stray strands of your hair out of your face.

“we’re reaching soon,” minjeong murmurs. you nod, your hands flying to the seat to support your body. her hands fly to wrap around your waist, humming softly. enjoying the solace of minjeong’s embrace, you lean into her touch for a few more minutes.

“mrs kim, we have arrived,” the chauffeur announces. minjeong lets out a little whine as she separates herself from the hug. “thank you,” she clears her throat, “i will inform you when to pick us up.”

your wife exits the car gracefully, unable to resist running to the other side where you were seated to open the door.

“charming,” you remark. minjeong has a hand out to steady you, a goofy smile on her face, “anything for my wife.”

you smile back and accept her hand. your jaw nearly drops at the sight. a stunning, white stoned mansion. small engravings of gold studded into the pillars on the patio. outside, the house was surrounded by neat and carefully trimmed hedges. the driveway was crowded, luxury vehicles dropping off their clients, who were decked in even more luxurious outfits. minjeong tugs at your hand. your eyes follow her movement.

“is it pretty?” she asks. you nod meekly, slightly intimidated by the grandeur of the mansion. you couldn’t believe someone would even hold a company banquet here. if it were you, you wouldn’t even allow anyone other than family and friends to enter such a home.

“do you like it more than the penthouse?” your wife asks again. your eyes widen, “no, i would feel really lonely in such a big house.”

minjeong nods, “but you have me. why would you ever feel lonely?” your heart melts.

“on business trips, honey. but i like our house more, feels more cosy and like home.”

she brightens up at the answer. you can’t help but giggle at her cuteness.

“if you said you liked it more, i would have bought it for you,” minjeong says offhandedly. you wonder if it’s possible to fall in love twice.

a security guard greets you at the entrance. while you admire the intricate detailing in the doorframe, minjeong converses with the guard.

“mrs kim minjeong and mrs kim y/n,” the guard repeats, looking up from his clipboard, “you may enter.”

minjeong leads you into the main hall. awestruck, you gape at the soaring ceilings and marble floors. a glimmering chandelier hangs from the ceiling, shining brightly. your eyes wander around, amazed at the sweeping staircase, adorned with ornate mouldings. the room is filled with crowds of people, murmurs bouncing off the walls. at every corner, a table, wrapped with white cloth, holds refreshments.

“kim mindoong,” a hand twirls you and minjeong around. yu jimin stands behind, grinning as she sips from a wine glass.

“jimin unnie,” you greet, smiling widely. the woman was wearing a beautiful black dress, frills of sheer black cloth embellished around the fabric. her sleek hair was tied up into a bun, accentuating her sharp jawline.

“y/nnie! you look amazing,” jimin gasps, eyes roaming down your figure. minjeong’s grasp tightens around yours.

your wife shields you playfully, “don’t look at my wife like that.”

jimin rolls her eyes, “i’m just admiring. is it illegal to look at people now? anyway, i heard aeri will be here too.”

minjeong scoffs, “dressed up nicer for her?” you laugh, thinking about jimin’s crush on your mutual friend. the mentioned girl only smiles wider, “why? do you think she’ll like it?”

“you do know she still thinks you’re with jaewook, right?” minjeong asks, “don’t you think she’ll be put off by you?”

you think back to a past conversation. minjeong had told you about jimin’s ex, or rather ex-situationship. honestly, you had no idea if jimin was purely straight or she just liked aeri. you thank god every day that you didn’t have to go through drama to be with someone you loved.

“ugh, i forgot about that. whatever, i’ll just have to show aeri what she’s missing out on,” jimin winks as she twirls away.

minjeong stands rooted to the ground for a few seconds, sighing, “i can’t believe her.” as you and minjeong venture further into the room, minjeong says, “if i were aeri, i would literally rip jimin’s head off the moment she told us she was seeing jaewook.”

“really? why?” you ask curiously.

your wife laughs, “why would i want to see the person i liked being with someone else? that’s lunacy.”

you nod in agreement, eyes drifting to minjeong’s side profile. your brain already starting to imagine such a scenario; minjeong being jealous. you could visualise her furrowed brow and the purse of her lips. she would look extra attractive when mad. this, you couldn’t deny.

“what are you thinking about?” minjeong’s soft voice floats into your ears. her face is positioned above your shoulders, staring at you with a curious gaze. you shrug, “i’m thinking about you.”

“cute,” minjeong smiles, “i need to go talk to hanbin about branching out into china, wait here for me?” a waiter swerves by, you reach out to grasp a glass of champagne. “of course, go be a ceo.”

minjeong grins at you one final time, and she disappears beneath the hoard of people. you sigh, taking small sips of the champagne. from the corner of your eye, you could spot jimin and aeri conversing. they were in a deep, heated conversation, borderline argument. soon after, they both slipped away from your gaze. you don’t bother looking for them. most likely, jimin would be grovelling while aeri watches.

at the other side of the party, you make out yizhuo’s figure, clinging onto the arm of a woman you don’t recognise. yizhuo was dragging the woman around, probably introducing her to numerous investors and executives. as you watch yizhuo and her guest, a figure shows up next to you.

he clears his throat.

your eyes flicker to meet his.

“hello,” you say slowly. you don’t recognise him either.

the stranger, fitted in a tailored suit, smiles, “hello, why are you standing off in a corner? not interested in talking to the big guys?”

you raise an eyebrow.

“no, not very.”

he flashes an even wider smile. your eyes drift to his hair, black, gleaming, probably run through with heavy amounts of gel.

“i’ve never seen you before,” he notes, “is this your first time attending such a banquet?”

“yes, it’s my first time.”

“i’m sim jaeyun, but call me jake,” he thrust out his hand. you grip his hand in a firm shake, “i’m kim y/n.”

jake’s eyes widened, “kim? are you part of kim minjeong’s family?”

you smile, thinking about your wife, “you could say that.” jake looks blown away, you wonder about the power your wife has.

“she’s kind of a big deal, ceo and all.”

“i’m aware of that.”

“how are you related? have you met her? are you guys close?” he rambles. you're slightly taken aback by the number of questions he throws at you. overwhelmed, you just stare at him.

slowly, he regains himself, coughing into his hand while fixing his hair, “sorry. i shouldn’t have… that was rude of me, but she’s extremely private about her life. i was shocked that a family member of hers would show up here.”

“it’s all right.”

“ah, to make up for my haste,” jake smiled bashfully, “could i offer you dinner?” you halt, gears turning in your head as you make out what jake is implying.

“no, actually i’m already here with someone.”

“i can’t charm you away for a few hours? surely they won’t miss your presence too much seeing as they left you here alone.”

you force a smile, irritated and through gritted teeth, you reply, “i said no.”

“really? who’s the person that brought you here? i’ll just let them know that you’ll be coming with me.”

a hand slithers around your waist, you lean into the familiar touch.

a sweet, honey-toned voice says, “good evening, mr sim. i’m glad you have met my wife, y/n.”

honestly, if it weren’t for the pity you felt for jake, you might have bursted out laughing at his reaction. yet, the humiliation of having hit on a taken woman seems to overwhelm him.

“your wife,” jake repeats.

“i’m afraid she will not be going to dinner with you, as she will be going home with me,” minjeong sighs, rather apologetically. you know this is all a facade. minjeong was just acting.

jake blushes, “i’m sorry, i didn’t know she was already taken.”

minjeong just smiles.

“have a good evening, mr sim,” she waves goodbye, dragging you away from the corner she left you in. her firm grip on your wrist doesn’t deter you from feeling relieved. fear bubbles slowly in your stomach at what minjeong might say. she pulls you outside, eyes narrowed and lips pursed, just as you imagined.

“y/nnie,” minjeong turns to look at you and god, the girl is pouting with full-on puppy eyes, “you let him flirt with you.”

fuck, why was she so cute? all your fear disapparates instantly.

“mindoongie, i wasn’t flirting with him,” you extend your hand to squeeze at her cheeks, “and why are you being so cute? you know i like you the most, right?”

“you didn’t reject him.”

“i was trying to be nice! what if he was a potential business partner for you?” you try reasoning with her.

“i don’t deal business with jerks who go after taken women, and especially not my woman.” minjeong’s jealousy and possessiveness was kind of attractive, you couldn’t lie.

you roll your eyes playfully, “it was just a possibility, and i didn’t do anything to encourage his behaviour.”

minjeong’s pout only worsens, “but you weren’t rejecting him.” you can barely hear what she says, her cheeks being squashed beneath your palms.

“i did reject him, minjeong. he was just insistent,” you explain, “he asked if i was related to you.”

just remembering jake’s surprised face makes you chuckle. minjeong arches an eyebrow, “related to me?”

“am i not your wife, mrs kim?” you pinch her cheek. minjeong winces, grasping your wrist again, “a-ah, yes you are!”

you let go, smiling cheekily at the red mark of your fingers left behind.

“baby, it hurts,” minjeong whines. your first instinct is to lean in, pressing a soft kiss onto the reddened skin. your lips touch her cheek in a feather like movement, softly and slowly, your lipstick covers the previous mark. minjeong stares at you, eyes blown open and a hand cradling her cheek. you pull back, admiring the way her skin flushes again, like wine spilling into her veins.

minjeong the prettiest this way. all flustered and vulnerable, just for you.

“you’re so cute, mindoongie,” you blurt out. it’s crazy the way your wife has changed; from the brooding, gloomy ceo to the silly and affectionate puppy she is now.

“y/n, it hurts here too,” minjeong pouts, pushing out her lips. you swat at her shoulder, well aware of what she’s trying to imply. “stop it, stupid.”

“but it really hurts!” minjeong’s a second away from stomping her foot and throwing a tantrum. you gaze lovingly at your wife. her eyelashes flutter, big, brown eyes begging for a kiss.

you can’t resist leaving a quick peck on her lips. minjeong sighs happily, pulling you closer.

“only i can have you like this,” she says, more to herself than you.

nodding, you caress her cheek, wiping away the lipstick mark left there. your other hand tugs at her blazer. minjeong leaves slow kisses on your face, from your forehead down to your jawline. you let minjeong have her fun, occasionally letting out sighs and teasing remarks. minjeong just ignores you and continues.

seemingly finished, minjeong rests her head on your shoulder, nuzzling the crook of your neck.

“i love you, kim y/n.”

being married to kim minjeong was great, you would say.

“i love you too, kim minjeong.”

[phamminji]

she’s not even my type

-me, 2024

SHES NOT EVEN MY TYPE DAW BUT SHE GATEKEEPING

[phamminji]

you get colet, pretty girl is mine

-me, 2024

ATE IS TRYING TO GATEKEEP MIKHA LIM GUYS

[phamminji]

so the first bini fic ure gonna write is for colet right😍😍 RIGHT?😍😍😍😍😍

HAHAHAHAHAHA HALA OF COURSE FOR MY BOSS ANG COLET 🤭 LOOK AT HER

[phamminji]

i believed till i reached "renowned girl group"

the world now that shu has a gf

my girlfriend doesn’t like to be disclose but shes in a renowned girl group shes viet and aussie she loves playing guitar shes so amazing and pretty and im do lucky to have her guys thank u for supporting my relationship i wont entertain further questions

[phamminji]

what is love?

1000 special: the fic that started it all

words: 3k

spade speaks: “i want to say thank you to the love and support you have given me within a year of me posting. 2023 is really a rollercoaster of a ride - from the angst that i’ve written to the fluff in the end. i’d like to dedicate this fic - the one that started it all - to all of you. what is love has a special place in my heart. to the ones that followed me from the start and to those who are joining along from the ride. thank you, i appreciate your existence.”

what is love?

minji never knew the answer to that question, there was no definite answer to be given when she hasn’t experienced love herself. with the amount of confessions she has gotten, not one made her heart skip a beat – even when her fake crush confessed to her. that was before realizing her own feelings towards her best friend, who is now her girlfriend as well.

you are the only person who owns her heart before she even knew that you have it. the only person to make her stop and go insane just by merely looking at you; and all this time she thought that she merely admired you as a friend. so what is love according to kim minji?

love is as sweet as candy.

minji is well aware you’re not one for PDA, aside from holding hands while walking around the mall or walking her to her classes. kisses were out of the window whenever you’re outside and hugs were a once in a while thing for you. yet seeing you letting wonyoung kiss you on the cheek made minji’s blood boil.

it was friendly, she’s aware of that but letting your other best friend freely kiss you while your own girlfriend has to wait until you’re alone seemed unfair. which lead to your current position, minji cornering you as your back is pressed against a wall – the position would have made you laugh as minji was a few inches smaller than you but your girlfriend looks mad that you could only let out a squeak as she was inches from you.

“son y/n jangmi.” a nervous laugh left your mouth, full name was rarely blurted out especially with your korean middle name.

“darling, why the full government name?” minji was pointing at your chest, your back now fully pressed to the wall that you're scared of what she would do.

“kiss me.”

“WHAT?!” both are aware that PDA is the one thing that you won’t do, the sudden demand makes you question what is running on your girlfriend’s mind. let alone what brought the idea up.

“i said kiss me.”

“yeah, i heard you but- could you put your finger down first.” minji slowly backs away and puts her hands to her sides as you finally relax a bit. “why suddenly bring it up?”

minji looks away from your piercing gaze, looking everywhere and avoiding your eyes, a nervous habit of hers that you’ve noticed since you were kids. personally, you would love nothing more than to kiss your girlfriend – the only thing stopping you is that you’re in public despite staying in the locker room where minji managed to catch you alone while your teammates went home already.

“well–” minji finally looks at you, and she could only see a puppy as you tilted your head slowly leaning closer to her with a smile on your face. her immediate reaction was to push your face away as her face heats up from the fluttering feeling in her stomach.

“stop looking at me like that.” minji’s hand is still on your face, taking it with your own free hand and slowly putting it down.

“like what?” your laughter is the one thing minji will never get tired of. taking a quick peek at you as she processes what she wanted to say. she draws a blank. her heart beating faster than it normally does. 

“like i put the stars in the night sky or something – i don’t know.”

you could only hold minji’s hand that was closest to you, kissing the top of it as you walked closer to her. smiling at her as you held her chin up to properly look at you.

“if you wanted a kiss, just ask nicely, darling.” soft lips on top of hers, cherry flavored lips that feels like she’ll get intoxicated from along with her strawberry flavored lips that has you weak. cherry might not be the sweetest flavor there is but minji thinks you're as sweet as candy with the way you pull her closer as if she’s your oxygen and that you’re dependent on her lips. minji had to stop you before anyone could possibly walk in on you two – despite your coach letting you lock up.

“ok ok, don’t overdo it.”

“noted, darling. so… why the sudden request?” as minji explained her reason in embarrassment as they walked out the locker rooms together. your hand holding hers while carrying both your bags in one arm. your thumb caressing the back of her hand as you walk home together - even in the littlest of things minji feels butterflies in her stomach.

love is like flying in the sky.

it had been a week since you left for your internship in your mom’s firm, leaving minji alone in your apartment. with it being a few days away from her birthday, minji wishes you’d be there on her special day. she waits patiently for you to call, all the way from new york as the clock strikes 9 in the morning, right on time. minji didn’t hesitate and immediately answered your call. there you stood in your pyjamas in your mother’s apartment as you held a bowl close to you. 

“good morning, did you sleep well?” minji wishes she could be completely honest and tell you how much she hates sleeping alone now that you’re miles away from her. how your side of the bed feels so empty and having to cuddle your pillow doesn’t make things any better. she keeps her mouth shut.

“yup, woke up early today. mina-unnie is coming to pick me up in 2 hours. how’s your day so far?” you nodded as you filled your bowl with your mom’s cooking and brought your phone with you as you dined alone.

“quite busy, a lot of case studies and mom plans on extending the stay for two days.”

“oh- that means you won’t be here for my birthday…”

before your call with minji, the truth was that you were free to go back to korea as your mom finishes some business. knowing fully well that minji’s birthday is around the corner and you wouldn’t want to miss it. so, you booked the earliest flight back to korea which meant either landing on the day itself or earlier. in a few hours or so, you’ll be back home within the arms of your girlfriend.

“sorry, darling. i’ll make it up to you when i get back.” a part of you was hoping that she’ll fall for your lie, and just looking at her mood; it might have worked too well.

mina even texted you that minji was sulking during her shoot, which has been happening quite a lot and it’s what made the shoots fast sometimes. despite mina complaining every 10 minutes about how your girlfriend keeps sighing and saying she misses you. it had reached a point where mina had to show minji your old pictures when she and chaeyoung would babysit you.

on the day of your flight, you had asked your mom to not tell anyone that you’ll be home for minji’s birthday let alone if minji asks her. to which your mom admitted would be quite hard as she loves minji as if she was her own daughter.

“please, mina-unnie knows about it so she can pick me up. you could probably ask wonyoung to keep minji busy so that she wouldn’t message me while i’m on the plane. simply just tell her that i’m busy or asleep.” your mom just patted you on the shoulder as she turned you around and pushed you towards immigration.

“stop worrying, i’ve kept the fact that i was rich from your father for years. now, safe travels and call me when you’ve landed.” you never got the chance to question your mom, all you remember is rushing and getting on board for your 15 hour flight that could make or break your sanity just to be there for your girlfriend of 3 years.

on the other side of the world, minji was lowkey losing her sanity. it’s not like you to miss her messages or calls - even if you were busy you still answered it. nothing made sense to her as she questions why wonyoung and hanni are doing their best to make sure she doesn’t check your location. it had almost been an entire day since your last message and she didn’t want to get her hopes up as your mom sent her a picture of you at your desk reading cases (it was taken the previous day).

“UGH- WHY ISN’T SHE ANSWERING MY CALLS?!” hanni is scared for her life because she hasn’t seen her best friend lose sanity over a girl and it wasn’t like you to leave her hanging. wonyoung is simply enjoying everything as she waits for your message that you’ve landed and as if the gods had answered her prayers; you finally messaged them of your whereabouts.

“i really can’t thank you enough, mina-unnie.” one of the many perks of having a future sister-in-law that is a CEO of her own company is getting a free pass to use her private plane.

“no worries, knowing how you’ll try to survive a 15 hour flight on business. the least i could do is not let you suffer and be cranky when surprising my model.” the trip on the way back to your shared apartment with minji took longer than expected due to the traffic. you’ve already informed wonyoung on how close you are to home.

minji is on edge, it’s her birthday and you’re a no show - messages and calls ignored. she was close to sending you an email until hanni stopped her and hoped you’d finally message your girlfriend. the silence of your shared apartment as minji looks out, the day hasn’t ended yet (it’s only 11 am and she has already lost it). then hearing the very familiar voice that is her ringtone of you calling her “darling! i’m stuck inside your phone!” she answered it immediately. hanni and wonyoung could only look at their friend as if she was a rabid animal who hasn’t eaten in weeks.

“son y/n! why weren’t you answering my messages?”

“i’m sorry, i got caught up with the cases mom made me read and my phone was on dnd then-” you rambled on about your fake excuse that was being overworked by your own mother as mina tried her best not to laugh at your stressed state while in the elevator to your place.

“fine, i’ll let it slide just this once.”

“sorry, darling - but i did send something for you.” right on time the doorbell to your place rang, minji headed towards the door to check on who it was, only to see mina and a suitcase next to her. a very familiar suitcase. mina was lowkey nervous as you stand by the doorbell camera of your place making sure you’re not in the picture as minji opens the door. a sad smile on her face while she held onto her phone and greeted mina.

“a certain someone wanted you to have this.” minji wasn’t dense but hearing mina’s voice echo in the other line - she assumed you would be somewhere within the area and upon checking outside. there you stood with a cake and bouquet at hand while your phone was on speaker.

“happy birthday, darling.” even if miles apart, you wouldn’t miss your girl’s birthday even if it meant flying for hours on end just to be there on time.

love keeps you smiling all day.

things have always been light and fun between you two. minji loves how you’re considered as one of the most serious people she knows but behind it is someone who has been through a lot as a child. that’s one of the reasons why minji loves you.

seeing your childlike wonder whenever you’re at home keeping yourself entertained with legos that you’ve built through your own imagination, sometimes joking about proposing with a lego box ring. one she found cute and quite hard to hide if that were your plan. minji watches you build a house that you’ve deemed as your dream house once you’ve saved enough money and have graduated. a modern house somewhere in canada as minji mentioned wanting to settle there in the future and seeing you incorporate that into something as small as building a lego house. she can’t help but admire you with a small smile on her face as you rambled on what rooms you wanted.

“so, you see us together in the future?” you hummed in response as you looked for a piece, one that minji noticed was stuck to your arm.

“well, yeah. i’m dating you to marry. i’m not letting go of the best thing i can call mine.”

“are you asking me to marry you in the subtlest way possible, baby?”

minji moved closer to you, finally taking the piece stuck on your arm and handing it to you. a smile on her face as you thanked her, finishing the lego house with the minifigures you had made months prior.

“if the time is right, i’ll be down on one knee and asking for your hand in marriage.” minji felt your lips on her cheek as you put the lego house in the middle of the table. “for now, we can only plan for the future.”

“like the lego house you built?”

“yup. i’ll give you a quick tour of what our possible house could be.”

minji loves it when you do the simplest of things, even if some would say its childish for a grown woman to play with legos while studying law and her girlfriend studying hard to be a doctor. you’ve changed for the better and minji adores that she gets to be there every step of the way. 

watching how your eyes would only look at her despite your classmates who have tried their best to make you look at them.

how you never leave the house without checking if she’s down to go out with you to do errands (the answer is always yes).

how despite living in the same place and seeing each other almost everyday for years, you’re not sick of her.

“so tell me more about that lego house of ours.” minji has always loved how you always planned the future with her in mind, even before you had confessed.

love makes you look at how beautiful the whole world is.

it was a given fact that you and minji are busy with your own work. let alone, she became an ambassador for Chanel and you’re proud of the girl who is currently within your arms in the city of love. having quite a peaceful picnic date with your girlfriend near the eiffel tower. the place might be noisy, a few insects here and there but minji’s mind is occupied by the girl sitting next to her taking her pictures with her film camera. a huge smile on her face as you take her picture, one that will be printed and placed on your board filled with pictures from your trips.

if you were with anyone else, you would have probably chosen a different date spot with how crowded the place is but seeing minji happy as you talk about her experience with paris fashion week or how you got the chance to meet one of mina’s closest friends who minji has already met before.

“how cliche would it be if someone proposed here, right now?” minji looked at you as if you were planning on proposing let alone, you had a conversation about the future the past year while you were building a lego house.

“quite cliche and neither of us would want to have a public proposal.”

“mhmm.. speaking of proposals. chaeyoung-unnie is finally going to do it.”

your entire date had been about everything related to love, with how you started and how dense minji was in high school to not notice your heart eyes directed at her or the way how you managed to trick minji into confessing first. in the eyes of kim minji, anywhere with you would be a beautiful view - even if you did see a rat running at the foot of the eiffel tower.

“oh, it’s remy.”

“ew.”

whatever love is, minji has no definitive answer - as long as you’re in the picture, minji considers it as love.

even if you’re outside of the apartment holding your belongings and ready to say goodbye. with a sad smile - minji knows in some way you’ll come back even if it means leaving her alone

in your shared apartment, in the middle of the table was the lego house you had built for you two. there she stood, eyes on the simple building you had made as she looked out of the balcony of your apartment with your back turned and bags being put into your car. minji knows you’ll be back.

“girl, will you stop crying. you’ll see her in a week. it’s only chaeyoung-unnie’s bridal shower. then the wedding.” hanni had watched minji look out the balcony as you waved goodbye and drove away to the airport to meet up with your sister.

this little thing might seem a bit too much for hanni, but to minji this was a huge step for your sister and you were needed every step of the way as the maid of honor. 

even while on the plane talking to your sister and her friends, with a velvet box in your pocket that you had recently claimed from rei. one that you had asked to be customized but your proposal can wait - for now you’re here to celebrate your sister who is about to get married in Japan.

“nervous?” chaeyoung could only nod as she pats your hand that was placed on top of the armchair.

“aren’t you? between the two of us, you literally have an engagement ring in your pocket along with my wedding ring.” you smiled as you show the velvet box that you’ve been holding onto.

“one thing for sure, unnie, i wanna spend the rest of my life with minji.”