I'll make it pretty someday, but for now, it serves practical purposes.
You're free to send in requests (I will ignore them if they're too weird, though) just keep in mind I'm very busy and live my life working most of the time, but I promise to get to your requests eventually.
I'm to writing for Twice, aespa, Red Velvet, SNSD, Blackpink, Lesserafim.
Their time was cut short, so they made a promise to find and love each other in every lifetime.
Fluff, a bit of angst
Yu Jimin (Karina) x fem!reader
Word count: 4.5k
____________________
Ancient Roman Empire
The marble halls were quiet at this hour, save for the soft click of leather sandals. Lady y/n Primus, daughter of Lucius Primus, governor of one of Rome’s most profitable provinces, carried herself with the poise expected of nobility — tall, ethereal, chin held high.
Trailing just a step behind her was Jimin, a young guard enlisted to protect the Primus family’s youngest daughter. The rumors in the barracks were endless — “Too soft,” they whispered. “Shows her too much devotion.” But no one could deny that Jimin moved like a shadow forged specifically to guard y/n.
They had known each other for years now. y/n, with her silks, pearls, and floral perfume — Jimin, with her sword, sunburnt skin, and devotion. What began as youthful fascination (a noble girl too curious, a guard too eager to please) had bled slowly, quietly, into something neither of them was allowed to name.
The heated baths.
y/n sat at the edge of the warm pool, legs dipped in, hair unpinned and falling down her back — a luxury reserved for times when no one else was around. “Come here,” she whispered.
Jimin stood near the mosaic wall, trying to pretend to scan for threats.
“My lady, I shouldn’t—”
“Jimin,” y/n warned gently.
She obeyed, dropped to one knee, close enough to feel the steam from the water. y/n’s hand came up, fingertips tracing the line of Jimin’s jaw. That’s when she said it — for the first time.
“If I were not born Primus… would you have loved me then?”
Jimin swore she felt her knees weaken under the armor. “My lady,” she breathed, voice catching. “I have loved you every day — whether you are adorned in gold or ash. I would love you even if we were nobody.”
That was the first time y/n kissed her.
-----
They were caught when y/n dared to sneak Jimin into her bedchambers one night. Laughter, soft touches, forbidden whispers — until suddenly the door slammed open.
Governors. Soldiers. y/n’s father.
Shock. Disgust. Outrage. Betrayal.
Jimin was ripped away from y/n’s arms by two soldiers. y/n screamed, fighting against her mother’s tight hold. “Don’t take her! She did nothing wrong — I love her!”
Jimin was already bruised, blood at her lip, but she still stood tall.
“You are ruining her, you disgrace!” Governor Primus spat at Jimin. “You will never be seen again.”
They dragged Jimin from the room, sword confiscated, sentenced to exile or worse.
y/n broke free just as Jimin was being marched to the palace gates. She ran, barefoot and sobbing, silk nightdress slipping off her shoulder.
They didn’t have much time.
y/n pressed herself to Jimin’s chest, tears soaking the guard’s tunic. “I will find you,” she swore, voice shaking.
Jimin cupped her beloved’s cheeks, even though soldiers were tugging at her arms. “And if they take me far away—”
“Then I’ll chase you beyond the river Styx,” y/n breathed. “Swear to me.”
Jimin nodded, eyes burning with unshed tears.
“In every lifetime, I will love you.”
y/n’s reply was fierce, raw —
“In every lifetime, Jimin?”
Her guard smiled, even as they chained her wrists.
“In every lifetime, my love.”
They were torn apart moments later. y/n screamed Jimin’s name until her throat felt like glass and blood. She never saw Jimin again in that life.
But that promise — that vow — did not die with them.
It echoed.
It lingered.
It followed them into the next life.
____________________
Victorian Era — The Opera House Affair
Lady Yu Jimin stood in the glittering balcony box of London’s most prestigious opera house — La Florentina. Daughter of a wealthy shipping tycoon, she had everything a young lady could want: beauty, position, marriage offers stacking higher than her pearl chokers.
Then she stepped on stage.
y/n y/l/n, the opera’s dazzling lead soprano — a woman whispered about in every tearoom and ballroom from Mayfair to Paris. Rumors said she came from nothing; a provincial girl with too much voice and too little regard for propriety. They also said she seduced audiences with nothing but a single breath.
Jimin had never believed in gossip. Until now.
From the very first note y/n released into the velvet-draped air, Jimin forgot how to breathe. She clutched her opera glasses tight, pulse climbing with every high C, with every dramatic flourish. And when y/n smiled during her final aria — a slow curl of the lip, almost dangerous — Jimin felt something unfamiliar spiral through her ribs.
Something like… recognition?
Backstage, after the performance.
Jimin’s lady maid warned her it was not proper to go behind the curtain, but propriety had already begun its slow death inside her.
Gold buttons and lace whispered as Jimin stepped into the dim, echoing corridor. Costumes and cigarette smoke floated past as workers scurried by. Then y/n appeared, out of costume now — still radiant, still untouchable — with her long hair tied back and cheekbones catching the candlelight.
They nearly collided.
“Oh—! Pardon me, I—” Jimin’s words tangled.
y/n looked her up and down, noticing the expensive silks, the signet ring, the breeding in Jimin’s posture. “You’re far from the audience box, darling,” y/n murmured, voice low and smoky.
“I…” Jimin swallowed. “I wanted to congratulate you. Your voice — it was unlike anything I’ve ever heard.”
The songstress smiled. Dangerous. Magnetic. Like a woman who had cut her teeth on adoration.
“And you followed me backstage. How bold.” She stepped closer, whispering as though sharing a secret. “Do you often chase girls after dark, milady?”
Jimin felt her cheeks burn. “I-I don’t know what you mean—”
y/n brushed past her gently, letting her arm graze Jimin’s. “Come again tomorrow, then,” she murmured, walking away with that self-assured swagger, “and maybe I’ll sing just for you.”
Jimin stayed frozen long after y/n disappeared into the shadows — heart pounding like war drums against her corset.
And so it began…
Night after night, Jimin returned — “to appreciate the arts,” she lied to her parents. y/n would sing, eyes subtly seeking out Jimin’s box each time, until eventually she began to send hidden notes:
We close the curtain at 11. Stay. I’ll be waiting by the red velvet staircase.
Jimin tried to resist, she really did.
She failed.
One stolen midnight encounter turned into another, pressing deeper into the opera house’s forbidden corners — the costume room, the prop attic, near the orchestra pit where moonlight pooled like liquid silver.
They tasted each other’s lipstick for the first time behind a gilded column while violins were being tuned in the distance.
y/n’s hand was in Jimin’s meticulously coiffed hair.
Jimin’s hands were on y/n’s waist, wrenching her closer with desperation she didn’t understand.
“I… don’t know why,” Jimin confessed between fevered kisses, “but I feel like I’ve… known you before.”
y/n brushed her thumb over Jimin’s lips, wonderstruck.
“Funny,” she whispered, “I feel the same.”
-----
The brewing scandal
Lady Yu’s frequent disappearances did not go unnoticed. Whispers spread. “She’s been corrupted by that opera girl — that temptress.” Suitors withdrew their interest. Her mother cried behind lace curtains. Her father threatened to ship her off to Vienna.
Still — she returned to y/n.
Until one night, they were caught — not by staff, not by noble gawkers — but by the songstress’s own manager, who saw fortune and scandal in equal measure.
“If this ruins me—” y/n began, breath shaky against Jimin’s forehead.
“If?” Jimin echoed, gripping her hand tighter. “I won’t let them burn you for loving me.”
The manager sent a letter to Jimin’s family that very night. “Your daughter is conducting immoral liaisons with my singer. Control her — or I will go public for publicity.”
All hell was about to break loose.
And so, on the eve before everything could crumble in headlines, y/n pulled Jimin into her dressing room and whispered:
“Run away with me. Tonight. No carriages. No jewels. Just you and me.”
Jimin stared at her — heart thunderstruck — knowing that to say yes was to destroy everything she’d ever known…
…but somehow, even without knowing why, she knew she was meant to choose y/n.
She kissed her breathless, tasting dust and desperation.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’ll find you… even if they tear us apart.”
They fled that night — into fog, into danger, into destiny.
They did not yet remember why their love felt like lightning in their veins — why every touch felt familiar.
But fate did.
And it was already preparing their next lifetime.
____________________
Flapper & Mafia Heiress
The smoke in the air was thick, a swirling mix of jazz, gin, and secrets. The Velvet Lounge was a sanctuary for the city’s most dangerous and dazzling, its floors glimmering under the weight of speakeasy glamour.
y/n Primus — now y/n Devereux on stage — was electric. With well-defined curls, ruby lips, and a body wrapped in fringed sequins, she was the star of the show. The moment she stepped into the spotlight; the entire room stilled. No one could look away. She sang, smooth and sultry, as the band behind her played a soft jazz tune that turned quickly into a fast-paced rhythm.
Every single pair of eyes was on her. Every ear was tuned to the way she breathed her lyrics, like she owned every note, every word, every step she took.
But one set of eyes didn’t just watch her — they burned.
Jimin was there. She was always there, every night, sitting at the same corner booth by the stage, perfectly poised in a black velvet dress, pearls draped over her neck. No one knew her as anything other than the daughter of Don Yu, the notorious mafia boss who ran half of the city’s underground operations. Her father’s empire was built on fear, but Jimin? She was a different breed. Cold on the outside, but fire burning beneath the surface. No one could touch her. No one but the Devereux girl.
The moment y/n’s eyes met hers from the stage, Jimin felt something shift in her chest. Her fingers clenched around the glass of whiskey in her hand, her pulse quickening, as though her whole life had led up to this moment.
That singer girl, with the voice that could shatter hearts — she was a temptation Jimin knew she couldn’t resist.
-----
Later that night, as the show ended, the crowd began to spill out into the cool, foggy street, but Jimin didn’t move. Instead, she stood, her gaze locked onto y/n as the singer made her way toward the back of the lounge, where the performers would retreat to their private rooms.
Jimin followed her, unstoppable, the power in her stride betraying the dangerous pull she already felt.
The singer, sensing someone behind her, turned sharply.
"You want something, darling?" she purred, voice dripping with a boldness she hadn’t yet learned to suppress.
Jimin didn’t hesitate. She stepped forward, a playful smile curling on her lips. “I want you.”
y/n’s breath hitched. She should have been more guarded, more composed — but something about the mafia princess in front of her made all the rules feel irrelevant.
“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” y/n said, leaning against the doorframe of her dressing room, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips.
Jimin took a step closer, her fingers lightly grazing y/n’s arm, sending a wave of electricity through both their bodies. “I know what I want,” she said, voice low and husky. “And I’ve never been good at waiting.”
The heat between them was immediate, charged with the unmistakable tension of two worlds colliding. Jimin wasn’t a woman used to being denied, and y/n? She had never felt so wanted.
Without another word, Jimin kissed her. Hard. Messy. Reckless.
y/n responded instantly, her hands threading into Jimin’s hair, pulling her closer, savoring the feeling of having her at last. Everything else faded away — the smoke, the sound of the city, the jazz that had once entranced her — all that mattered was the woman in her arms.
-----
But of course, nothing was ever simple.
Jimin’s father, Don Yu, did not approve of his daughter’s unpredictable desires, especially those that endangered his empire. By morning, the whispers were already circulating, people were talking, and those who knew better were shaking their heads.
"You know how dangerous it is to cross paths with a woman like that," one of Jimin’s closest associates warned her, his voice thick with concern. “She’s a Devereux.”
Jimin didn’t care. She never did. And yet, something inside her gnawed at her, a fear she hadn’t known she possessed.
The mafia princess and the flapper queen were like fire and gasoline.
But no one, not even Jimin’s father, would stop her from chasing y/n down again.
-----
It was a week later when y/n found a single rose on her dressing room vanity, the petals a deep red, almost too vibrant for the dim-lit space. Attached was a note — no name, just two words.
“Meet me.”
y/n’s heart skipped a beat. She knew who it was. Jimin. Bold, dangerous Jimin.
She didn’t waste time. That night, she slipped into the same flapper dress from the first night — a daring red this time — and made her way to the address scrawled on the back of the note.
She stepped into a dark alley, only to be met with the cool, smug smirk of Jimin, her silhouette leaning against a brick wall.
“Well, well,” y/n said, her lips curling in a flirtatious grin. “You’ve been busy.”
Jimin didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.
Before y/n could blink, Jimin had her pinned against the wall, lips claiming hers in a kiss that was all hunger and raw desire.
“I told you I’d have you,” Jimin murmured, voice thick with passion. “And I always get what I want.”
y/n laughed softly, breathless, “I think I want you too.”
And once again, they were bound by that unspoken, inevitable connection — one that could tear their worlds apart, but neither of them could run from.
____________________
Disco Nights & Roller Dreams
The glowing sign outside Electric Eden flickered hot pink and electric blue. Half roller rink, half nightclub — it was the place you went when you wanted to feel alive, reckless, and young forever.
Inside, glitter balls spun from the ceiling, casting shards of light across sweaty dancers and skaters speeding past to the beat of “Take On Me.”
That’s where y/n y/ln crashed into Jimin Yu for the first time.
Literally crashed.
y/n — wild curls, crop top, metallic pink skates laced up to her knees — was trying (and failing) to land a backward spin in the center of the rink. She spun too fast, lost control and—
WHAM! Straight into the chest of a girl in black skates and a leather jacket.
y/n landed on her ass, dazed.
Jimin looked down at her, chewing gum lazily.
“Nice form, bunny,” she smirked, offering a hand.
y/n took it, sparks shooting up her arm the moment their fingers touched. “You should watch where you’re standing,” she teased back, eyes narrowing playfully.
“I was standing still. You just wanted an excuse to fall for me.”
y/n snorted — and that was it. Destiny struck.
--
A few hours and dangerously strong blue cocktails later…
Their skates were tossed aside as they leaned against a neon wall in the club section, bass thudding, sweat-slick bodies pulsing around them.
y/n twirled a strand of Jimin’s dark hair around her finger.
“So… you come here often?”
Jimin smirked, hands settling low on y/n’s waist. “Only when I’m bored enough to toy with pretty girls.”
y/n laughed, bold and fearless. “Good thing I love being toyed with.”
Their lips crashed next — hot, messy, desperate.
Jimin tasted like mint and danger. y/n tasted like cherry lip gloss and chaos.
They didn’t even make it out of the club before Jimin had y/n pressed against a wall near the bathroom corridor, hands tangled in those wild curls as y/n tugged at Jimin’s jacket to pull her impossibly closer.
“I don’t even know you,” y/n breathed between kisses.
Jimin’s grin was wicked. “Feels like I’ve known you forever.”
--
They became inseparable.
Days blurred into nights. Skating, dancing, breaking into closed pools at 2 AM, laughing until their lungs hurt.
Jimin called y/n her troublemaker.
y/n called Jimin her bad habit.
They didn’t remember the lifetimes before — but their souls couldn’t help it. The way Jimin would find y/n’s hand in any crowded room. The way y/n looked at Jimin like she’d searched centuries just to find her again.
They burned fast and bright — reckless, bold, doomed in the way star-crossed things always are.
Because some loves aren’t meant to slow down.
They’re meant to keep crashing into each other.
____________________
Childhood Friends
It started with a pink bicycle and a scraped knee.
y/n y/n, age seven, was the new girl on Sycamore Lane — a shy, wide-eyed girl in sundresses and jelly shoes, freshly moved into the blue house on the corner. The neighborhood kids had already claimed their alliances, their treehouses, their territories.
y/n? She had no one. Except for her bike… and her stubborn need to ride it down the biggest hill in the park.
Which is how she ended up on the ground, tears pooling in her eyes, a long scratch blooming red on her knee.
“Hey! Hey, are you okay?”
y/n blinked through tears to find a girl standing above her — black hair in a messy ponytail, band-aids on her elbows, and scraped palms that said I do this all the time.
“I’m Jimin,” she said proudly. “You fell kinda bad.”
y/n sniffled. “I know.”
“Want me to walk your bike home?”
y/n hesitated. “...You don’t even know me.”
Jimin grinned. “So what? I like you.”
That was it.
y/n decided right then and there that Jimin Yu was her favorite person.
-----
Years passed.
They were always together. Bike rides, shared juice boxes, walkie-talkie calls between their bedroom windows. y/n was dramatic, artistic, always trying to write songs and make tiny plays in the backyard. Jimin was fearless, fiercely protective, and always ready to punch any boy who tried to tease y/n at school.
They were still just kids, but sometimes their parents would smile knowingly when they caught the girls curled up asleep on the couch, y/n’s head on Jimin’s shoulder.
“You two are gonna get married one day,” y/n’s mom teased once.
y/n turned bright red. “Mom!”
Jimin just grinned. “I wouldn’t mind.”
-----
Then came middle school.
Puberty. New friends. Growing pains. A hundred small ways the world starts to change you.
Jimin cut her hair short and started playing soccer. y/n started writing poems in her diary about soft hands and heartbeats she didn’t understand.
One day, Jimin saw the poems by accident.
She didn’t laugh. She didn’t tease.
She just smiled gently, tucked the notebook back under y/n’s pillow, and whispered, “You’re always writing about me, huh?”
y/n wanted to deny it — but instead, she looked at Jimin for a long, long time.
“I think I’ve always been writing about you.”
-----
By high school, they were inseparable again.
y/n still had stage fright but sang in the school talent show because Jimin swore she’d sit front row and cheer so loud it’d drown out everything else.
Jimin picked fights with anyone who said a word about y/n’s growing interest in music, her dreamy disposition, or her preference for holding Jimin’s hand just a little too long.
Everyone knew.
But they didn’t care.
They were home.
They never questioned why being with each other felt so… right.
So familiar.
They didn’t remember a Roman court.
Or an opera house.
Or a roller rink.
But their hearts did.
And when y/n turned sixteen and made Jimin her first kiss behind the bleachers, both girls swore they had never — ever — felt more at peace.
____________________
College Roommates
The first thing y/n noticed when she walked into their tiny dorm room freshman year?
Black luggage, a perfectly made bed, and a girl with sharp eyes and sharper cheekbones already organizing her desk with terrifying precision.
Jimin.
y/n blinked, dragging her own pastel-colored suitcase through the door. “You’re… my roommate?”
Jimin glanced up. Shrugged. “Apparently.”
y/n set her things down, her usual sunny confidence dimmed just a bit. Jimin looked… intense. Gorgeous, but intense.
“I’m y/n,” she said, offering a hand.
Jimin eyed it. Took it.
“I’m Jimin.”
Their fingers touched.
Just for a second.
Just long enough for something buried in both of them to spark.
Neither of them had names for it yet.
-----
Week one: total opposites.
y/n was the walking stereotype of a performing arts major — always humming, always singing, decorating her side of the room with string lights and glitter-covered polaroids. Jimin, meanwhile, was in political science, kept her side of the room painfully minimal, and looked like she hadn’t slept in years.
But they clicked anyway.
Somewhere between 2 AM ramen breaks, shared headphones during library study sessions, and Jimin showing up unannounced at y/n’s recitals — “just to watch” — they became inseparable.
Roommates turned best friends.
Best friends turned... something else.
-----
The shift came in spring semester.
y/n got dumped. Brutally. Tears, mascara, the works.
Jimin sat next to her on the dorm floor with two slices of cold pizza and her hoodie offered up silently like armor.
“He didn’t deserve you,” she muttered.
y/n sniffled. “You always say that.”
“That’s because it’s always true.”
The other girl turned to her, teary-eyed, soft. “You really think so?”
Jimin hesitated.
Looked at her.
Looked at her like she wanted to say something she’d been biting back since move-in day.
“…Yeah. I do.”
y/n leaned in — just a bit.
“Do you think maybe… the right person for me has been in this room the whole time?”
Jimin’s breath caught.
And y/n kissed her.
They never made it official, but everyone knew.
They shared a bed more often than not. y/n always wore Jimin’s hoodie. Jimin always saved her a seat in every class they shared.
They weren’t technically dating.
But when y/n’s childhood friend visited campus and tried to flirt with her, Jimin turned full deadpan and said:
“She’s taken.”
y/n didn’t correct her.
They weren’t in a rush. They didn’t need labels. Because when y/n laid her head on Jimin’s chest at night, she felt like she’d come home — again.
Like this was the thousandth time she’d found her way back.
_____________________
Pop Diva & K-Pop Idol
By now, their names were everywhere.
y/n y/l/n — the world’s reigning pop phenomenon. The voice, the vision, the headlines. Platinum-selling albums, magazine covers, the Met Gala. If she so much as sneezed, the internet caught fire.
Yu Jimin — Karina, top-tier K-pop idol. Fierce on stage, elegant off it. A goddess sculpted in Seoul, with fanbases that could rival armies and performances that left people breathless.
They were icons in their own worlds. Distant galaxies, orbiting millions of fans and endless expectations.
Until one awards show pulled them into the same room.
-----
Backstage. Seoul. Chaos. Glitter.
y/n stood by the catering table in a silver gown that hugged her like a second skin, sipping sparkling water and trying to escape the crowd of execs.
That’s when she felt it — eyes on her. Intent. Unshakable.
She turned.
And there she was.
Jimin.
Dark hair cascading down her back, a subtle smirk tugging at her lips. Their eyes met — and something ancient snapped into place.
Neither of them spoke.
But y/n swore her heart whispered,
“There you are.”
The rumor mill ignites.
They bumped into each other again. And again.
In Paris. In Tokyo. In Los Angeles.
Casual smiles turned into long stares. Short greetings turned into hushed laughter in corners.
Then someone caught a blurry photo.
y/n, with her hand on Jimin’s back.
Jimin, leaning in too close.
The headlines exploded:
“Global Pop Star Linked to K-Pop Idol!”
“Fans Speculate Romance After Steamy Afterparty Moment”
y/n’s team wanted silence.
Jimin’s label wanted distance.
“No more sightings. No more rumors. This could ruin everything.”
But it was too late. The connection had already sunk its teeth in.
Private worlds, hidden love.
They met in secret.
Hotels under fake names. Rooftops at 2 AM.
y/n would send Jimin voice notes with unreleased lyrics that sounded like confessions.
Jimin would write y/n’s name in her journal, circle it in hearts, then rip the page out and keep it under her pillow.
One night, in a quiet Airbnb in London, y/n curled up beside Jimin and whispered:
“It’s crazy. I’ve only known you for a year, and it feels like I’ve loved you forever.”
Jimin smiled softly, tracing y/n’s wrist with her fingers.
“That’s because you have.”
y/n blinked. “What?”
But Jimin just kissed her — long, slow, full of a thousand lifetimes.
-----
They didn’t plan it. It just… happened.
y/n was at her world tour finale. Thousands of people. Fireworks. Tears.
And right there, in the front row — Jimin.
y/n looked down mid-song. Her eyes locked with Jimin’s. The same unshakable pull. The same heartbeat skipping in her chest.
She sang to her. Only her.
When the final note echoed through the stadium, y/n dropped the mic, ran off stage — and into Jimin’s arms.
A fan captured it on camera. The hug. The way they didn’t let go.
And that’s when y/n whispered — not caring who heard —
“In every lifetime, Jimin?”
And Jimin, breathless and smiling like she finally remembered everything, whispered back:
“In every lifetime, my love.”
And maybe this time… they finally get to stay.
No exile.
No scandal.
No tragic ending.
Just two souls who kept their promise.
Lifetime after lifetime.
Era after era.
Always finding their way back.
____________________
A Promise Kept
It’s quiet now.
No screaming fans. No flashing lights. No bodyguards or managers or headlines chasing them.
Just y/n and Jimin, curled up together on a rooftop in the city that gave them everything — and almost took it away.
It’s early. The kind of early where the sky is lavender and the world hasn’t remembered to wake up yet. The air is cool. y/n’s wearing Jimin’s hoodie. Jimin’s got y/n’s legs draped over her lap, hands gently tracing hearts on her shin.
They’re both quiet. For a while.
Then y/n breaks the silence, voice soft, cracked at the edges.
“You know what’s crazy?”
Jimin hums. “Everything?”
y/n laughs. “No. Well, yeah — but also... I saw this painting once. It was of two women — one dressed like royalty, the other like a soldier. They were holding hands in secret.”
Jimin tilts her head. “Rome?”
y/n nods. “I didn’t know why it felt like us. But it did.”
Jimin’s smile falters — just slightly.
“I used to have dreams about an opera house. I could hear you singing. And I’d always be in the audience. Every single time.”
y/n’s breath catches.
“We remembered, didn’t we? Even when we didn’t know.”
Jimin presses her forehead to y/n’s, eyes closed.
“We always knew.”
They sit like that, trembling, smiling through sudden tears. And then they laugh — breathless, overwhelmed, ridiculous laughter.
Jimin wipes her cheeks. “We were so dramatic.”
y/n snorts. “So dramatic. We ran away from home like three times.”
“I nearly got shot for kissing you in a roller rink bathroom.”
“And I ruined a royal dinner crying over you.”
Jimin grins, teary-eyed. “You always do that. Cry.”
y/n pokes her. “You’re the one crying now.”
They both burst out laughing again.
When the laughter fades, it’s quiet again — but softer this time. Safer.
y/n looks out at the pink sunrise. “We made it.”
Jimin pulls her close, arms tightening. “We finally made it.”
I'll try to post more tomorrow, but I do have lots to do.
Feel free to send requests! I'll get to them... eventually.
____________________
“Jimin… what the hell is that?”
Three pairs of eyes lock on Jimin the moment she waltzes into the practice room, coffee in hand, lipstick way too pretty for 9AM. She's smiling, humming, living her little main character life — until she takes her baseball cap off.
Minjeong gasps like she’s witnessing a murder.
Yizhuo clutches her chest like she’s eighty.
Aeri just points.
Right there, right in the MIDDLE of Jimin’s forehead— a bruise. A massive purple bruise. The kind you only see in action movies or old school k-dramas.
“What happened to your face?!” Minjeong shrieks, already halfway across the room grabbing ice from somewhere no one knew existed.
Jimin blinks. “What? This?” She taps it proudly. “Battle scar.”
Aeri raises an eyebrow. “You tripped again, didn’t you?”
“N—”
Before she can finish her lie, the door swings open.
In walks y/n y/l/n, international pop superstar and apparently aespa’s fifth, unofficial member at this point. She’s wearing sunglasses indoors, looking like she walked off the cover of Vogue.
“Hey girls, has anyone see—”
She takes the sunglasses off.
The room goes silent.
Because OH. MY. GOD.
y/n has the same exact bruise, perfectly matching Jimin’s.
“What in lesbian telepathy…?” Yizhuo whispers.
“Okay,” Minjeong throws her hands up, “someone better start talking or I’m calling SM and TMZ.”
--
Cue dramatic flashback:
Jimin and y/n.
A beautiful sunny afternoon.
They’re by y/n’s pool, being insufferably cute. y/n decides she “simply needs” to teach Jimin how to do a cartwheel (“for TikTok variety purposes”). Jimin claims she already knows how. y/n calls her “grandma.”
That’s all it takes.
They stand side by side on the grass.
One, two, three—GO.
y/n’s cartwheel? Surprisingly… perfect.
Jimin’s? Legs everywhere, arms nowhere, physics said goodbye.
They collide mid-air, both going BONK forehead first into each other like two medieval warriors. They crash. They roll. They lay on the ground in silence, dramatic clouds forming over them.
Seconds pass.
“…ow.”
“…did we die?”
“Baby, if we did, they better build a statue for us.”
They crawl back inside, using frozen peas and ego as first aid.
Flashback ends.
--
Back in the studio, aespa is traumatized but also wheezing.
“So,” Aeri asks slowly, “you’re telling me… both of you got matching forehead bruises because you were… doing couple cartwheels?”
y/n, perfectly serious, “It was a team-building activity.”
“Yes. For our relationship.”
Minjeong throws the ice pack at them. Yizhuo’s already tweeting. Aeri’s wondering if she needs to write a formal report to management or an exorcist.
y/n smiles sweetly. “Anyway! I brought Starbucks for everyone!”
And just like that, the crisis is forgotten — except now SM has twenty new rules including:
“No parkour, acrobatics, or unsanctioned gymnastics while in a relationship with y/n y/l/n.”
Had to split this into two parts because of how long it turned out to be... oops.
TW: Mention of self harm.
______________________
It was lunchtime when Jimin’s phone buzzed.
She stared at the screen, her blood running cold.
A notification from PoisonLipz.
The account had posted.
The caption was simple, almost too simple. The words, though? Explosive.
@PoisonLipz
“The Siren we never talk about.
Jimin. The girl who replaced y/n. The one who played the game so well, she forgot to play her part.
What happens when you play too long? You get greedy. You get stupid.
And now, here’s the truth:
Jimin was never supposed to be here. She wasn’t supposed to win. But she did. And now, here she is—still wearing y/n’s crown. And guess what? She wants it all.
You really think she wasn’t involved in y/n’s downfall?
Guess who’s been feeding me everything all along.
The crown was always y/n’s. But Jimin?
She’s just a pretty face, trying to play a queen.
Enjoy your reign while it lasts, princess.”
Jimin’s heart stopped.
She looked up from her phone, her face pale, and felt every single pair of eyes on her. The whispers started immediately.
“Did you see that?”
“No way, right?”
“She didn’t even—what?”
She couldn’t breathe. Not from fear. Not from shame. Just from the weight of the truth sinking in.
Her mind raced. The lies. The manipulations. Calla had played her.
It was all falling apart.
Jimin shot up from her seat, ignoring the laughter and pointing fingers. She ran out of the cafeteria, desperate to escape. Where would she go?
y/n’s face flashed in her mind—y/n’s smile, y/n’s quiet, calculating gaze. She had known.
y/n knew what was coming. She’d seen the game play out before. And now, Jimin was no better than her.
The hallway felt like it was closing in on her. Jimin’s heart pounded as she pushed through the crowd, but the voices surrounded her. Her phone buzzed again, but she didn’t look at it. The whispers grew louder. People were staring. Judging. Laughing.
Jimin locked herself in the nearest restroom, pacing, her thoughts spiraling. Her hands shook as she slid down to the cold floor, her back against the door.
How had it happened?
How had she fallen so far?
She thought of the kiss. Of y/n’s vulnerability. Of everything they’d shared. She had tried to convince herself it was all a game, but it wasn’t. It was real. y/n had let her in. And she had betrayed her.
And now, y/n had exposed her, like she always knew she would.
Jimin’s phone buzzed again. It was Renée.
Where are you? We need to talk. Calla’s gone too far. They’re saying you’re involved in everything. y/n’s right there, watching us.
Jimin felt her stomach twist. y/n. She was the one who had set this all in motion. She had allowed this to happen. And now, Jimin was paying the price for her mistakes.
The door to the bathroom slammed open.
Celeste and Renée rushed in, both looking frantic.
“What the hell, Jimin?” Celeste snapped. “What the hell?”
“I didn’t know it was going to happen,” Jimin whispered, her voice breaking. “I didn’t—”
“You didn’t?” Renée interrupted, disbelief in her tone. “You’ve been so busy playing the victim, you didn’t even see it coming? Calla exposed you—she’s been feeding PoisonLipz all this time! You were the one who helped her.”
Jimin shook her head desperately. “I didn’t! I swear—”
Renée’s face hardened. “You’re lying, Jimin. We all are. But this—this is too much.”
Celeste looked at Jimin with disgust. “You’re just like y/n, aren’t you? You took her throne and wanted it all, but it was never yours to begin with.”
“Don’t say that,” Jimin said, choking on her words. “Please, don’t say that.”
“I think she needs to hear it,” Celeste muttered, almost to herself.
Jimin was already feeling the weight of the school turning against her. Every whispered conversation was about her. The stares. The laughter. The phone cameras. People were snapping pictures, posting them to social media.
And the worst part?
y/n was watching. She was there, at the center of it all.
Jimin stumbled out of the bathroom, her legs shaking. She didn’t know where to go anymore.
And then she saw it.
y/n, standing just beyond the crowd. She was watching Jimin—her eyes calculating, cold, satisfied.
Jimin froze, feeling like her heart had been ripped out. y/n wasn’t angry. She wasn’t fighting. She was just… watching.
“y/n,” Jimin whispered, but the blonde didn’t move.
Jimin’s breath hitched, but she didn’t know how to fix this. She didn’t know how to make it right.
y/n, with a tilt of her head, finally spoke.
“You played the game. You got greedy.”
Jimin felt tears sting her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “Please,” she begged. “Please, y/n.”
y/n’s smile was cold. “You think I’m going to fix this for you?” she asked, her voice icy. “You think I’m going to come to your rescue? That’s not how this works.”
Jimin collapsed to her knees, her chest tight with pain. “I didn’t mean it. I never wanted any of this.”
y/n’s eyes softened just slightly, but the bitterness was still there. “You’ve got what you wanted. But it comes at a price. And now, you’ll learn how high the cost is.”
The girl turned and walked away, her back straight, her head held high. She didn’t look back.
-----
The day after the post was unleashed, the school felt like a warzone. Students were divided, cliques splintering. Some supported Jimin, others mocked her. Some whispered that she had always been the one pulling the strings, that she had manipulated everyone into thinking she was just a sweet girl from Korea who had “no idea what she was getting into.”
But then, there were the ones who knew better. They remembered how y/n had once been the queen of their high school world. They remembered the power she wielded—how she could bring you to your knees with just a look, a whisper. And now they saw the exact same thing in Jimin, and they were terrified of her.
But none of that mattered now. Because it wasn’t about Jimin anymore. It was about y/n.
By lunchtime, Celeste and Renée were already at y/n’s doorstep. They knocked repeatedly, but there was no answer.
“Please, y/n,” Celeste begged, her voice shaking. “You have to understand—we never meant for it to go this far.”
Renée was just as frantic, her hands trembling as she clutched her phone. “We didn’t know what Calla was going to do. You have to know—we’re not like her. We didn’t want this. We want you back.”
y/n didn’t open the door. She didn’t need to.
She knew what they were saying. She knew what they were pleading for.
And yet, y/n stayed silent, cold, behind her locked door. She had seen everything. The Sirens had betrayed her—Jimin had betrayed her. They didn’t get to ask for forgiveness now.
Meanwhile, Calla had gone underground. She’d known exactly what she was doing when she posted that content, and now that the dust had settled, she was nowhere to be found.
Jimin knew she had to confront Calla—she couldn’t let her get away with this. Not when Calla was the real puppet master behind everything. But the problem was, Calla had completely disappeared.
It wasn’t just that she was avoiding everyone; she had covered her tracks. PoisonLipz had gone dark. No posts. No updates. Nothing.
Jimin’s frustration grew with each passing hour. She couldn’t believe how easily Calla had played her, how she had let the girl pull the strings. She couldn’t focus on anything other than the burning desire to fix things.
Jimin’s phone buzzed again. She didn’t even have to check to know who it was. It was Renée, sending her the same message as before:
We can’t fix this without y/n. You need to make it right.
Jimin clenched her jaw. She had to make it right.
She couldn’t go back in time and undo everything. She couldn’t change what had happened. But one thing she knew for sure was that she was going to try.
y/n needed to know that Jimin was sorry—that she understood how badly she had hurt her.
Later that afternoon, Jimin found herself standing outside y/n’s house. The air was cool, and the sky was heavy with the weight of what was about to happen.
Jimin wasn’t sure if y/n would even listen. After everything, would she even care? But Jimin had to try. She couldn’t go on like this, feeling like something was missing.
y/n opened the door before Jimin had a chance to knock. She stood there, looking as beautiful and untouchable as always. But there was something different about her now. Something colder.
“You came,” y/n said, her voice flat.
Jimin swallowed. “I need to talk to you, y/n. Please.”
The blonde didn’t respond right away. She just looked at Jimin, her gaze unreadable.
Finally, she stepped aside, opening the door wider. “Come in.”
They sat in y/n’s living room, a space that used to be a sanctuary. Now, it felt more like a battleground.
The younger girl didn’t speak at first. She just watched Jimin, her expression guarded. Jimin felt like a stranger in the place that used to feel like home.
“I’m so sorry,” Jimin said, her voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never wanted this. I didn’t see what I was doing until it was too late.”
y/n’s eyes softened, but only for a moment. “You played the game, Jimin, and you were good at it. You took everything that was mine.”
Jimin’s heart clenched. “I didn’t know. I didn’t understand. I just… I just wanted to be someone who was worthy of you.”
y/n blinked, her gaze flickering with something Jimin couldn’t quite place. “And now? What are you now, Jimin? You’re the girl who stole the crown and lost herself in the process. You’re the one who thought she could play me and win.”
Jimin reached out, her voice desperate. “I don’t care about the crown anymore. I just want you. Please, y/n. Please forgive me.”
For a long moment, the other girl didn’t respond. She just stared at Jimin, her eyes betraying nothing.
But then, slowly, y/n leaned in. She closed the distance between them, her voice quiet but steady. “You can’t just undo what’s been done, Jimin. You can’t just walk back into my life like nothing happened.”
Jimin nodded, tears threatening to spill. “I know. But I’m not giving up. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right. Just please… don’t leave me.”
y/n paused, the silence stretching between them. And for the first time since everything had fallen apart, she reached out and gently cupped Jimin’s cheek.
“You and those other losers better be ready. We’re doing things my way from now on.”
Jimin’s breath hitched as she closed her eyes, relief flooding her chest. It wasn’t a promise, but it was a start. And that was enough.
-----
At exactly 12:01 PM, students' phones lit up all across campus. Notifications from PoisonLipz, the gossip account that had haunted everyone for months, buzzed with a new update.
It didn’t mention y/n.
It didn’t mention Jimin.
It only had one name in bold:
@PoisonLipz:
“Calla.”
Not the villain. Not the mastermind. Not the mean girl.
Just a scared little girl who once tried to kill herself in a motel two towns over because she wasn’t enough for her own mother.
Just a girl who spent her entire sophomore year in therapy, begging someone to tell her she was worth something.
Just a girl who cried to her best friend at 3am because she couldn’t understand why everyone loved y/n more.
That same best friend who sat with her in silence.
That same best friend who held her hand in the hospital.
That same best friend who told her she mattered.
And now? That best friend is done protecting her.
You climbed the ladder Calla, but you forgot who let you climb it in the first place.
You tried to humiliate her.
You tried to be her.
But now?
You’re just the girl who lost her crown and her mask in the same day.
Silence fell over the lunchroom like a slap. No one breathed. No one moved.
Calla was seated near the center, mid-bite into a strawberry she now choked on. Her eyes darted around wildly. Every screen. Every table. The post was everywhere.
“No,” she whispered, face turning ghost-white. “No, no, no…”
The table around her backed away slowly—her supporters, her shadows, her pawns. One by one, they lowered their phones and stared at her with wide eyes.
You spent a year in therapy?
That was about you?
y/n was the best friend?
The realization hit like a slap: Calla had made an enemy out of the only person who ever loved her when no one else would. And now? y/n was done being ‘merciful’.
Calla stumbled to her feet, knocking over her chair, her hands trembling.
“WHO POSTED THAT?” she shouted. “WHO GAVE THEM THAT?!”
But she knew the answer.
She knew.
Her breath caught when her eyes found y/n across the room.
y/n was standing casually near the doors, her arms crossed, phone in hand. Calm. Composed. Untouchable. Her expression was unreadable… until she gave a slow, deliberate smile. The kind you only wear when you’ve just watched someone break.
Calla didn’t make it to the courtyard. She ran—past classrooms, past gawking students, past teachers who didn’t know what to say. She ran to the east stairwell, the one no one used anymore, and locked herself in.
Her breathing was erratic, panic clawing at her lungs.
This secret wasn’t petty. This wasn’t about who kissed who at a party or who lied about being a virgin.
This was her. The real her. The broken, terrified, unlovable version of herself she tried to bury.
And y/n had just dragged her into the light.
Calla sank to the floor, shaking.
Tears poured down her cheeks. And all she could hear was y/n’s voice echoing in her head, from years ago, way before she became a Siren:
"I love you, even when you hate yourself."
That voice was gone now. That girl was gone.
y/n y/l/n was unrecognizable, and she had finally destroyed her.
Meanwhile…
y/n walked out of the lunchroom like a queen returning to her palace. Celeste and Renée flanked her again, heads held high.
Jimin followed a few steps behind, quiet but loyal.
y/n said nothing at first. But when the hallway cleared and they were alone, she turned just enough to glance over her shoulder at Jimin.
“She’ll never come back from that,” she said flatly. “She doesn’t deserve to.”
Jimin looked down, heart heavy. “You didn’t have to go that far.”
y/n’s gaze sharpened. “Yes, I did. She posted about my sister.”
Jimin didn’t argue. Because she knew the pain of that betrayal, too. She had caused it once.
“I just hope…” Jimin said softly, “that one day you’ll forgive me.”
y/n looked away.
And said nothing.
-----
A Few Weeks Later
The halls had quieted. The chaos that had once ruled the school faded into whispers, glances, and subtle power plays. But the throne? The throne was filled again.
y/n y/l/n sat at the center table in the courtyard, a perfect picture of control—silken navy blazer draped over her shoulders, sunglasses perched on her nose, iced coffee in hand. The Sirens flanked her, still stunning, still untouchable, but quieter now. Calmer. Meaner only when they had to be.
And at y/n’s right hand—just slightly behind her, like it had been decided long ago—was Jimin.
Gone were the innocent smiles. Jimin had been forged in fire. And she wore the scars in the way she carried herself now. Elegant. Careful. A touch more dangerous. She still had to earn the blonde’s full trust again, and y/n reminded her of that in a thousand tiny ways every day.
“Are you still mad at me?” Jimin had asked once, curled beside y/n on her bedroom floor, a soft blanket over their legs.
The younger one had turned to her slowly, pretending to think. “Still? No. Mad? Maybe. In love with the drama of making you beg for forgiveness every morning? Absolutely.”
And Jimin, already leaning in, had kissed her anyway.
Calla was a name no one said out loud anymore. If anyone asked, they’d say she transferred. Moved away. Vanished. Some whispered that she’d been completely dismantled by y/n y/l/n and would never recover. Others weren’t even sure she’d ever existed.
The blonde never spoke her name again. Not once.
She had deleted the final PoisonLipz post herself, a soft mercy. But she never said she regretted it.
Jimin had asked, once, in a low voice as they sat outside the old science building.
“Do you ever think you went too far?”
y/n had sipped her drink, staring at the fountain just beyond the window. Then, without blinking, she answered:
“No. I think I waited too long.”
Celeste and Renée were still loyal. Still sharp-tongued and beautifully dressed. But the cruelty they once wielded so recklessly had dulled at the edges. They’d seen how far things could go. Their leader didn’t demand violence the way she once had. Now she demanded precision. Restraint. Power in silence.
“It’s more fun this way,” she’d said with a wink, glossing her lips as Jimin leaned against her locker. “We don’t have to lift a finger. People bow just because we’re in the room.”
Jimin had smirked. “Including me?”
y/n didn’t look at her. “You’re not people, babe. You’re mine.”
It was late in the day, almost golden hour. The quad buzzed with gentle background noise—laughter, feet hitting pavement, someone blasting music from their speaker. The year was winding down. Senior year, their last together.
y/n sat under their usual tree, fingers idly scrolling through her phone. She looked up as Jimin approached, hands in her jacket pockets, eyes soft.
“You’re late,” she said coolly.
Jimin grinned, dropping to sit beside her. “You love me late. It gives you something to complain about.”
The blonde snorted. “You’re confusing annoyance with affection again.”
“Mm. You keep kissing me, so I don’t think I am.”
A beat. y/n glanced at her, and for the first time all day, she smiled. Truly smiled.
“You’re still not off the hook, by the way.”
“I know.”
“I’m still going to punish you.”
“I hope so.”
y/n rolled her eyes and leaned in, lips brushing Jimin’s like a secret. They kissed slow, quiet, like they had all the time in the world. When they pulled apart, Jimin rested her forehead against y/n’s, whispering:
“So… what now, your highness?”
y/n looked out at her kingdom—her school, her legacy, the little empire she’d built from ashes and venom and charm.
Had to split this into two parts because of how long it turned out to be... oops.
______________________
Jimin stepped through the front doors of Rosehill Academy, her uniform perfectly pressed, her hair pulled into a sleek ponytail that made her cheekbones look even sharper than usual. Her transfer from Seoul had caused a quiet ripple across the student body days before she even arrived.
The new girl.
The girl who danced at national competitions. The girl with perfect skin, intimidating poise, and that unbothered air that made others feel instantly lesser just by standing near her.
By the time she reached her locker, eyes were already following her. Not with malice—not yet, but fascination. Who was she? Where did she come from? And most importantly… was she a threat?
Across the hall, y/n y/l/n watched the scene unfold with the same expression she always wore—half amusement, half boredom, and entirely unreadable. She stood at the center of a small constellation: Celeste and Renée flanking her like perfectly curated accessories, all of them dressed in matching pastel tones like they hadn’t even tried to coordinate. y/n’s phone was in her hand, but her gaze was locked on the new girl.
“She’s pretty,” Renée muttered, chewing on her lip gloss tube. “Like, real pretty.”
y/n smiled faintly. “She’s… interesting.”
The next time Jimin looked up, y/n was already walking toward her.
She didn’t strut—y/n never had to. The hallway parted for her naturally, like she was royalty moving through her court. Jimin noticed her immediately. Anyone would’ve. Her honey-blonde hair gleamed under the fluorescent lights, her eyes sharp and unreadable, and the slight smirk on her lips like she already knew every single thing about Jimin.
“Hi,” y/n said sweetly, like sugar laced with cyanide. “You must be the famous new girl. I’m y/n y/l/n. Welcome to Rosehill.”
Jimin blinked. “Thanks.”
“I know transferring in must be… overwhelming.” y/n tilted her head, her voice warm and breezy. “But don’t worry. I’ll make sure you don’t get lost. We always take care of pretty girls around here.”
It was flattering. It should’ve been flattering. But Jimin felt the air shift—just slightly—as y/n smiled at her. There was something… off. Something too precise. Like being watched by a snake dressed in Dior.
Before Jimin could reply, a voice whispered just behind her, low and urgent. “Don’t fall for it.”
She turned.
A girl with sharp eyeliner and tired eyes gave her a look like she was handing her the last parachute on a crashing plane. “She’s not what she seems. y/n y/l/n only smiles when she’s planning something.”
Jimin hesitated. “You know her?”
“We all do. She runs this place. Everyone who matters answers to her, whether they know it or not.”
Jimin glanced back toward y/n, who was still standing there, looking entirely unbothered as she scrolled through her phone like nothing had happened.
“She’s already picked you, you know?” the girl said. “Now you have two options. Be her new toy—or help us take her down.”
Jimin raised an eyebrow, half amused, half intrigued. “Us?”
The girl handed her a folded piece of paper. A single Instagram handle was written across it.
@PoisonLipz.
“Think about it,” she said. “Before she eats you alive.”
Jimin turned back toward y/n—and saw that the blonde was already watching her again, a glint in her eye like she’d been listening the whole time.
And she smiled.
-----
The Sirens occupied their usual spot on the upper terrace of the school courtyard—a sleek marble table shaded by cherry trees and reserved by unspoken rule. No one else sat there. No one else dared. y/n leaned back in her seat, sunglasses perched delicately on her nose, as she scrolled through her phone with the absentminded grace of someone used to being the sun everyone else orbited.
“She’s got that foreign cool,” Renée said, picking at a strawberry from her perfectly packed lunch box. “Like, ‘I studied ballet in Europe and have a tragic backstory’ vibes.”
“She transferred from Seoul, not a war zone,” Celeste replied flatly, sipping her green juice. “But she is hot. I’ll give her that.”
y/n didn’t speak for a long moment. She was watching a video—someone had already uploaded a clip of Jimin walking down the hallway earlier that day, soundtracked with an indie song and comments flooding in about how the new girl was “mysterious,” “main character coded,” and, most importantly, “might just dethrone y/n y/l/n.”
Her finger paused on the comment.
“She won’t,” y/n said calmly, locking her phone and setting it aside like a knife she no longer needed.
“She’s got eyes on her,” Celeste warned, eyes narrowed. “Weird ones. Not just the usual fanboys. People are curious.”
“Curiosity fades,” y/n murmured, running a manicured finger along the rim of her iced coffee. “Or it gets punished.”
There was silence after that. y/n didn’t need to raise her voice. She never did. Her power wasn’t in volume—it was in control. She knew everything about everyone. She spoke six languages, including fluent sarcasm, and she was the daughter of Veronica y/l/n, the CEO of a luxury conglomerate that owned half the beauty brands their classmates used daily. y/n didn’t threaten people—she erased them.
Last semester, a girl tried to spread a rumor about y/n’s breakup with a model from Milan. She transferred schools a week later. Another student accidentally bumped into y/n at a gala and was mysteriously removed from the committee. No one could ever prove y/n’s hand in anything. That was her gift. She played god like it was a family tradition.
But now… someone new had walked in. Someone untouchable. Not because of wealth or bloodline, but because she didn’t care.
“I think I’ll invite her to lunch tomorrow,” y/n said casually, tapping her nails on the table. “See what she’s made of.”
Meanwhile, the first post from @PoisonLipz had quietly dropped the night before.
A grainy photo. A caption dripping with venom.
“Word is Jamie from Year 11 wasn’t sick last Friday. He was hungover… at Mr. Carter’s apartment? 🔥 We can’t wait to see how fast that chemistry grade climbs now.”
The account barely had fifty followers when it posted, but it doubled overnight. Then doubled again. People whispered about it in the hallways, fingers hovering over the “follow” button.
No one knew who ran it. And that made it worse.
It didn’t touch the Sirens. Not yet. The posts were clever, never outright libelous—just suggestive enough to sow chaos. A photo of a love letter left in a locker. A screenshot of a private message. A carefully timed poll about who cheated on who last semester. The captions always ended with the same phrase:
More tea coming soon. Keep your lips pretty. 💋
Jimin found her again behind the gym, near the overgrown garden the school never maintained. The girl who had whispered to her that first day. She was leaning against a wall, hood up, earbuds in, looking like she didn’t belong anywhere but knew exactly what went on everywhere.
“You came,” the girl said, pulling out one earbud.
“I’m curious,” Jimin replied.
The girl smiled—not warmly. More like a warning. “That’s what she wants. She likes curious girls.”
“Then tell me,” Jimin said, crossing her arms, “what’s your history with y/n?”
The girl paused. “My name’s Calla,” she said, offering her hand like a dare. “We used to be friends. Best friends.”
Jimin blinked. “You were a Siren?”
“No,” Calla laughed. “We were more than that. Before the Sirens existed, before her mom bought her the spotlight. I was there when she got her first taste of power. I watched her destroy her enemies one by one. Not for survival—for fun.”
Jimin studied her face. There was no bitterness, no pleading, just cold remembrance. “Then what happened?”
“She found something shinier,” Calla said with a shrug. “I wasn’t pretty enough. I didn’t fit the aesthetic. I told her the truth too often. So, she made me invisible. In a school like this?” Her mouth curved. “That’s a death sentence.”
She pulled out her phone and showed Jimin something. A screenshot. The @PoisonLipz account.
“I didn’t start this to be petty. I started it because people need to see the truth. And I need someone inside.”
“You want me to spy,” Jimin said flatly.
“I want you to survive,” Calla said. “y/n’s already chosen you. You’re in. You’re either going to be her latest obsession—or her next casualty.”
Jimin looked down at the screen again. The glossy interface. The chaos it could cause. The siren song of control, of choosing which truth to expose.
She didn’t say yes.
But she didn’t say no either.
-----
The next morning, Jimin barely had time to take off her headphones when she noticed her. y/n y/l/n didn’t walk—she glided, flanked by Celeste and Renée like a queen with her handmaids. A hush followed them down the hallway. Every head subtly turned.
And then, just as suddenly, y/n stopped—right in front of her locker.
“Jimin, right?” Her voice was velvet, every syllable calculated to feel effortless.
Jimin looked up, slightly startled. “Yeah?”
y/n smiled, and it wasn’t just beautiful—it was devastating. “I don’t know how it works in Seoul, but around here? You don’t sit alone at lunch on your first week. It’s bad for your reputation.”
“I’m not too worried about that,” Jimin replied smoothly, locking her door. She refused to be dazzled.
y/n tilted her head, intrigued. “You should be. Reputations here are like glass. Beautiful, fragile… loud when they break.”
Renée let out a laugh like it was the most charming threat she'd ever heard. Celeste barely cracked a smile.
Jimin didn’t blink. “Thanks for the concern.”
“Oh, I’m not concerned,” y/n said, her gaze flickering over Jimin like she was mentally measuring her for a dress. “I’m curious. That’s rare.”
Jimin didn’t say anything for a moment. This wasn’t the vapid teen queen she’d expected. y/n’s charm had teeth.
“I’ll think about it,” she finally said.
y/n leaned in, just close enough to be unsettling. “Don’t think too long. We don’t wait.”
And with that, she turned on her heel and walked away, her ponytail swaying like punctuation at the end of a perfect sentence.
By the time lunch rolled around, Jimin had already made up her mind. Calla’s warning echoed in her head like a ticking clock, but this was the point, right? Get close. Be seen. Play the game until it cracked wide open.
The Sirens’ table gleamed like it belonged in a magazine spread. Every girl there looked effortlessly curated—designer accessories, flawless skin, practiced disinterest. y/n sat in the middle like a rose on a throne of thorns. When she saw Jimin, she smiled like she’d been expecting her all along.
“Welcome,” she said, gesturing to the empty seat beside her. “Don’t worry, we saved you a spot.”
“You say that like I didn’t have a choice.”
y/n handed her a strawberry Perrier and tilted her head. “You didn’t.”
There was a pause as Jimin took her seat. Renée and Celeste exchanged unreadable glances.
“Don’t mind them,” y/n said softly. “They just hate sharing me.”
“I’m not here to steal you.”
“Oh, you couldn’t. But you could be interesting.”
y/n watched her with that signature cool detachment, but her eyes were too sharp to be idle. “Tell me something, Jimin. Do you always lurk in hallways and gardens like a spy, or is that just part of the Seoul aesthetic?”
Jimin tensed just slightly.
y/n smiled wider. “Relax. I like it. Mysterious is in this season.”
Jimin gave her the smallest smirk. “And you keep tabs on everyone?”
“I don’t need to,” y/n said, resting her chin on her hand. “People just show themselves to me eventually. Sometimes without even realizing it.”
The words sat heavily between them.
It was the first real move of their game—and Jimin recognized it for what it was. A warning. A challenge. A promise.
Across the courtyard, someone’s phone buzzed with a new post from @PoisonLipz. Then another. More students glanced at their screens. Whispers stirred like wind through tall grass.
“Guess who’s been sleeping over at a teacher’s house again? Same teacher. Different student. 🎭 Reputation’s a cycle, darling. Round and round we go.”
Still, not a single mention of y/n or her girls.
Not yet.
And y/n, sipping her drink, never once looked at her phone.
But Jimin noticed the subtle twitch of her lip—the faintest ghost of a smirk. As if she knew.
As if she were waiting.
-----
The next few days passed like silk unraveling—slow, smooth, deceptively soft. Jimin didn’t agree to anything. Not out loud. But the Sirens made it impossible to say no.
“Are you seriously going to sit there again?” Renée asked with a dramatic sigh, gesturing at the library steps Jimin had made her unofficial lunch spot. “You’re breaking my heart.”
Celeste, ever deadpan, added, “It’s bad for your image. People are starting to think you don’t like carbs. Or fun.”
Jimin raised an eyebrow. “And sitting with you fixes that?”
“You don’t sit with us,” y/n said, stepping between her girls. “You sit among us. There’s a difference.”
The way she said it wasn’t a suggestion. It was an offer—one most people would kill for. Jimin didn’t say anything, but when she stood up and followed them across the quad, she knew that was her yes.
And y/n smiled like she’d just won the first round of a long game.
Lunch with the Sirens was something between a performance and a power ritual. Every gesture was measured. Every outfit coordinated like a living editorial spread. y/n reigned over it all like a modern Medusa—people looked, people froze, and she knew it.
She introduced Jimin to their world like a cat dragging a bird in through the window—smiling, graceful, but with teeth always tucked just beneath the gloss.
“Don’t ever wear denim on a Monday,” y/n whispered one afternoon, leaning in close. “That’s Celeste’s thing. Unless you want to start a war.”
“Noted,” Jimin murmured, blinking slowly. “And if I want to start one?”
y/n’s gaze glittered. “Then you’d better make sure you win.”
That was how it went. Lessons laced with daggers. Compliments that sounded like commandments. And Jimin—sharp as she was—couldn’t deny the pull. y/n was alluring in the worst kind of way. A girl you didn’t want to want, but couldn’t stop watching.
Then came the party.
It started with a text.
📍 487 Veridian Lane.
Dress code: ruin someone’s ego.
Don’t be late. You’re not invisible anymore.
—y/n💋
The house looked like something pulled from a music video. Tall gates, violet lights glowing from the windows, bodies spilling from the doors and down the front steps. Jimin had barely walked in when someone handed her a drink in a crystal glass and someone else asked who she was wearing.
“Try to keep up,” Renée said breezily, handing her a second drink and disappearing into the crowd.
Celeste disappeared toward the backyard with a boy already wrapped around her. Jimin wandered, curious. There were neon signs in cursive font, selfie stations, and three separate rooms with their own DJs. It was too much. It was intentional.
And then she saw her.
y/n was at the top of the stairs in a black slip dress, the fabric clinging to her like it was made for her skin alone. She leaned over the bannister as someone whispered something in her ear, smiling lazily before dismissing him with a gentle flick of her fingers. Her eyes locked on Jimin’s from across the room.
Jimin looked away first.
y/n descended the stairs like a scene from a movie. Her heels barely made a sound. Her perfume caught in the air—something warm and expensive. She stopped in front of Jimin, looking her over with a slow, obvious smirk.
“You clean up well.”
“I wasn’t trying to impress you.”
y/n shrugged. “You didn’t. You impressed everyone else though. That’s even better.”
Someone turned up the music. Someone else started filming. But none of it mattered. For a moment, it was just them.
“Come,” y/n said, reaching for her hand. “There’s something I want to show you.”
Jimin hesitated. Then let her fingers curl around y/n’s. Soft. Warm. Dangerous.
They weaved through the house until they reached a private balcony lit only by moonlight and the distant shimmer of pool lights. The music was muffled now, like a heartbeat behind closed doors.
y/n leaned against the railing, her eyes scanning the city.
“You see that?” she said, pointing out at the skyline. “That’s mine.”
Jimin followed her gaze. “The view?”
Nicole smirked. “No. All of it.”
It was ridiculous. Arrogant. Classic y/n. And yet… Jimin believed her.
“Why me?” she asked suddenly. “Why let me in?”
y/n didn’t look away from the city.
“Because you’re not afraid of me. And people who aren’t afraid of me always end up interesting. Or ruined. Sometimes both.”
Jimin laughed, soft. “And which do you think I’ll be?”
y/n finally turned to look at her—really look at her. And in the dim light, Jimin saw something different. A flicker of vulnerability, maybe. Or danger pretending to be desire.
And possibly the most heartbreakingly pretty girl she had ever seen.
-----
The gossip account was gaining traction. Fast.
It started with harmless posts: a teacher caught napping in the staff lounge, two juniors spotted fighting over the same promposal idea, a senior caught vaping behind the gym. Funny. Sharp. Easily brushed off.
But then the tone shifted.
“She’s wearing last season’s Balmain and acting like it’s vintage. Sweetie, no.”
“Heard someone bribed their way onto the cheer team. Try flipping that, honey.”
“She said she got into Columbia. Columbia’s admissions office is about to be real surprised.”
Still no names. Just initials. Just photos snapped from angles no one realized were being taken. Everyone in school followed it now—even teachers. The account was anonymous, but the person behind it knew too much. Too close. It made people paranoid.
y/n, on the other hand, was entertained.
She scrolled through the posts one night while lying across her bed, a silk robe sliding off her shoulder. Celeste was painting her nails and Renée sat nearby, flipping through a Vogue.
“Honestly?” y/n said with a soft smirk. “Whoever’s running this account is smart. Strategic.”
“Petty,” Renée countered, though her tone wasn’t fully disapproving.
Celeste shrugged. “No one’s touched us, so who cares?”
y/n tilted her head, her smirk deepening.
“Exactly. They’re circling, but not biting. Makes you wonder who they’re saving their appetite for.”
Jimin was drowning in invitations.
After the party, everything changed.
y/n would find her in the hallway between classes, slipping an arm around her waist like they’d known each other for years. She’d text her midday—an address, a time, a wardrobe suggestion. And Jimin, despite herself, showed up every time.
A rooftop brunch with just the two of them.
An art exhibit opening where y/n introduced her to people with last names that mattered.
A night drive in y/n’s convertible, wind whipping through their hair, music low, y/n’s laugh spilling into the darkness like secrets.
And Jimin watched herself being pulled in. Not just into y/n’s world—but into y/n. The way she talked, the way she moved, the way she looked at Jimin like she was a puzzle to be solved, piece by piece, breath by breath.
One night, y/n invited her over. Just the two of them.
Her house was enormous, modern and cold in the way money liked to be. Marble floors, glass walls, not a speck of dust in sight. y/n led her through the house barefoot, two glasses of wine in her hand.
“Parents?” Jimin asked, glancing around.
“Out of town. Always,” y/n replied, handing her a glass. “They trust me. Big mistake.”
They ended up on the couch, legs tucked under them, a black-and-white movie flickering across the screen. y/n rested her head on Jimin’s shoulder at some point. The wine was rich, and the room too warm, and everything smelled like amber and something floral.
“You’re different,” y/n murmured, tracing a pattern on Jimin’s arm with one finger.
“Good different or bad different?”
She didn’t answer right away.
“Dangerous different.”
Jimin’s breath hitched.
She didn’t sleep that night. She stared at the ceiling in her tiny apartment, replaying y/n’s voice, the way she leaned into her like she wasn’t afraid of closeness at all.
The gossip account got a new post that night:
“She’s not falling.
She’s being pushed.
And she doesn’t even see it coming.”
No initials. No name. But Jimin’s finger hovered over the delete button for an hour before she let it stay.
-----
The getaway was invitation-only.
A weekend estate tucked deep into wine country, far enough from the city that the stars looked real and time moved slower—if y/n wanted it to.
Jimin had barely stepped out of the car before someone handed her a flute of champagne. The Sirens were already sprawled across white lounge chairs, sunkissed and glittering like goddesses in a music video. Everything was curated: the outfits, the playlist, the casual posing for candids that would later dominate Instagram feeds.
y/n, in a sheer white cover-up and cat-eye sunglasses, turned to see Jimin arriving. Her smile was slow, deliberate. “There you are,” she purred, as if she’d been waiting just for her.
Jimin tried not to show how her heart jumped.
She shouldn’t care this much. She shouldn’t be thinking this much.
But she was.
y/n was being… warmer, lately. Touches that lingered a second longer than they should, looks that felt like silk dragging across bare skin, and when they talked—late into the night, alone, with nothing but their voices between them—it didn’t feel like a game.
It felt dangerous.
And Jimin liked it.
She hated that she did.
It was later that day when y/n saw it.
Jimin, laughing.
With Calla.
Calla, who used to be a Siren. Calla, who had the audacity to challenge y/n last year and paid the price. She’d fallen out of grace, out of social relevance, out of everything. But there she was, on the edge of the pool, talking to Jimin, touching her arm, leaning close.
y/n’s eyes went cold.
She didn’t say anything, not right away. She just watched. Observed. Calculated. Then she turned to Renée, her voice syrupy-sweet:
“Would you mind switching lounge chairs with me? I want a better view.”
Renée blinked. “Of?”
y/n didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.
Jimin noticed the shift.
y/n’s touches were cooler now. Her words—still kind—felt wrapped in something else. Barbed wire dressed in silk. She was still inviting Jimin in, still including her in everything, but it was as if there was a new tension beneath the surface.
And Jimin couldn’t stop thinking about her.
y/n was intoxicating. When she smiled, it felt like the sun came out. When she looked away, Jimin felt cold. And now that warmth was flickering—Jimin wanted it back.
She needed it.
That night, they shared a room.
Jimin wasn’t expecting it—y/n just tossed her a spare silk set of pajamas and said, “You’re not sleeping on the pull-out. You get cold easily.”
She knew that?
Of course she did.
They lay on opposite sides of the bed at first, backs to each other, quiet. The air was heavy with unspoken things.
“You like Calla?” y/n asked finally, voice soft but laced with something sharp.
Jimin blinked at the ceiling. “I… don’t know her.”
“She seems to know you.”
Silence stretched long and thin.
Then Jimin turned toward her, heart pounding. “Are you mad?”
y/n turned too. Her eyes found Jimin’s in the dark. “I don’t get mad, Jimin.”
A beat. Then:
“I get even.”
Jimin swallowed. “What does that mean?”
y/n’s hand moved—slow, elegant—and tucked a strand of Jimin’s hair behind her ear. Her touch lingered at the edge of her jaw, thumb brushing skin.
“It means you should be careful where you give your attention.”
Her voice dropped lower. “Some people don’t deserve it.”
Jimin’s breath hitched. She could feel her pulse in her throat.
And for a second—for one wild, electric second—she thought y/n was going to kiss her.
But she didn’t.
She pulled back. Smiled that knowing smile.
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
The gossip account updated at dawn:
“You can’t burn a girl who likes the fire.
But you can choke on her smoke. Careful, new girl.”
-----
They were inseparable now.
The Sirens noticed. The rest of the school noticed. Even the gossip account had started getting DMs speculating about what was going on between the “ice queen” and the “new girl.”
But y/n didn’t care… or at least she didn’t act like she did.
She invited Jimin everywhere. To brunches, to late-night rooftop hangouts, to designer showroom sneak peeks where interns handed y/n coffee and swatches like she was royalty.
And Jimin went. Every time.
Because she couldn’t help it.
y/n made her feel like she belonged somewhere. Like she mattered. Like she was wanted.
Not just wanted. Needed.
“Everyone’s obsessed with you,” Jimin said one afternoon. They were lying side-by-side in the back of y/n’s private car. Her driver had strict instructions not to interrupt unless it was an emergency.
y/n smirked without looking at her. “Obviously.”
“No, I mean it,” Jimin said, turning to face her. “It’s like… you control the room the second you walk in.”
y/n finally met her gaze, lashes low. “Power,” she said quietly, “isn’t about control.”
“Then what is it?”
y/n looked away, her voice soft, almost lost in the hum of the engine.
“It’s about survival.”
Jimin didn’t speak.
y/n exhaled slowly and added, “When people fear you, they leave you alone. They don’t ask questions. They don’t hurt you.”
There it was.
Finally.
A flicker of the girl underneath.
The fortress cracked, just for a second.
Jimin’s heart ached, and she hated that it did.
Later that night, they were at y/n’s penthouse.
It was supposed to be just them. A movie night. Just something casual. y/n had picked the film (“Not another tragic indie lesbian movie, please,” she’d joked), but they barely watched any of it.
They talked.
They laughed.
They drank from y/n’s expensive stash of French soda and dipped strawberries in dark chocolate like they weren’t still in high school.
And sometime around 1 a.m., y/n laid her head on Jimin’s shoulder.
It was innocent.
At least it started that way.
But then she said, voice low, “You smell like cinnamon.”
Jimin froze. “That’s… my shampoo.”
y/n smiled, not moving. “Keep using it.”
Her fingers brushed Jimin’s hand. Not quite a hold. Not quite nothing.
And Jimin thought—this is dangerous.
But she didn’t pull away.
At school the next day, y/n was colder. Not mean, just distant.
Jimin told herself it was nothing. y/n did this sometimes. Hot, then cold. A fire you couldn’t quite hold in your hands.
Still, when y/n looped her arm through Jimin’s during lunch and whispered, “We’re skipping sixth period,” Jimin didn’t hesitate.
They ended up on the roof, sharing music through one pair of earbuds, pressed shoulder to shoulder.
“I trust you,” y/n said, out of nowhere.
Jimin’s breath caught.
“Don’t make me regret it.”
The gossip account was getting sharper. More people were talking. Students whispered in bathrooms and hallways and the back rows of classrooms.
Still no Sirens posts.
But the heat was rising.
And y/n? She’d started checking the account daily. Smirking. Amused. Like she knew something everyone else didn’t.
And Jimin—poor Jimin—was falling. Not just into y/n’s world, but into her, and even though she knew she wasn’t supposed to… she didn’t want to stop.
-----
It started with a name.
“Calla.”
y/n said it like poison.
They were at y/n’s favorite rooftop spot again, mid sunset, the city gold-tipped and humming below. Jimin had just mentioned running into Calla outside chem class. Nothing dramatic. Just a casual hello.
y/n turned to her, head cocked. “She’s not your friend.”
“I didn’t say she was.”
“She’s irrelevant.”
“She was nice to me.”
y/n’s expression sharpened. “People are nice when they want something.”
Jimin blinked, folding her arms. “What, like you?”
Silence. Heavy.
y/n didn’t answer.
Instead, she stepped closer. “You don’t know what she’s said about you.”
“Do you?”
“I know everything.”
Jimin narrowed her eyes. “Is that what this is? You’re keeping me around just to know what I’m doing?”
y/n’s voice dropped. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Then why are you jealous?”
The word cracked the air.
y/n’s gaze darkened. “I’m not.”
“You are.”
The younger girl stepped forward. “And what if I am?”
The question stunned them both.
And in the heartbeat that followed—before either could think—Jimin grabbed her wrist, y/n jerked forward.
And they kissed.
Furious. Desperate. Breathless.
It was all teeth and trembling hands, mouths crashing like waves on rocks. Jimin felt her whole body light up. y/n pulled her closer, fingers tangling in her hair, like she was trying to anchor herself to something real.
Then it ended. Abrupt. y/n stepped back, lips parted, chest rising fast.
“Don’t ever kiss me like that again,” she whispered.
But she didn’t move away.
And Jimin didn’t either.
Later that week, it happened.
They were at y/n’s penthouse again. The city buzzed beneath them, but everything felt distant.
They’d been lying on the couch, tangled in silence. Then, unprompted, y/n sat up and spoke.
“I used to have a sister.”
Jimin stilled.
“She was older. Beautiful. She had this… light. The kind that made people feel seen.” y/n’s voice wavered. “She died in a car crash. Drunk driver. I was thirteen.”
Jimin reached for her hand. y/n didn’t stop her.
“She was everything I’m not,” she said quietly. “Kind. Honest. Good.”
“That’s not true,” Jimin said.
y/n turned to her, eyes burning. “You don’t know me.”
“I want to.”
y/n hesitated. Then added, barely audible, “She died on her way to pick me up from a party. I begged her. I said I didn’t want to be around people who only loved me when I was perfect.”
Silence.
“That night broke my mother. And I—” she choked on it, swallowing hard, “—I learned the only way to survive was to be colder than everyone else.”
Jimin didn’t know what to say, so she held her hand tighter.
That night, they didn’t kiss again.
They just… existed together.
And for the first time, y/n let herself fall asleep on someone’s shoulder.
Three days later, the account posted again.
This time, it wasn’t vague.
It named Celeste first. A cruel post about her weight fluctuations and plastic surgery rumors. She burst into tears in the hallway.
Then Renée. A vicious dig at a cheating scandal involving a boy who never even went to their school.
The Sirens were shaken.
And y/n?
She didn’t flinch.
Not at first.
She just stared at the post, then closed the app. “Cowards,” she muttered. “Of course they’re starting with the easy targets.”
She was calm. Still. Ice.
But Jimin knew her now.
She knew the storm was coming.
And then, the next morning—y/n’s name appeared.
Not just a name.
Not a rumor.
Not a snide remark about fashion or plastic surgery or exes.
The post was about her sister.
The accident.
How y/n had begged her to come.
How y/n had been the reason.
Only one person in the entire world knew that story.
Jimin’s phone buzzed.
y/n had sent one message.
“Meet me. Now.”
-----
The post hit the feed at 6:06 a.m.
No caption. Just a black background, white text. Brutal. Personal. Unforgiving.
@PoisonLipz
“The Queen of Cold has a ghost in her closet—
A sister with a smile too bright for this world. Dead at seventeen. Because y/n y/l/n begged her to come pick her up from a party she didn’t even want to be at. The guilt made her prettier. Colder. Meaner. And that smile she weaponizes?
It used to be borrowed from someone else.
Sleep tight, y/n. We see you now.”
The internet exploded.
Comments came fast and hot. Students gasped in group chats. Someone screen-recorded the post. Everyone whispered.
And y/n?
She read it once.
Then closed her phone.
Jimin barely had time to process what she’d done. She hadn’t meant for it to be that post. That part of the draft was never meant to publish.
It was meant to be saved. Hidden.
But it was too late.
She met y/n at the rooftop above the music building—her usual domain of power, now turned battlefield. The blonde was already there, arms folded, staring at the horizon like it might offer her an answer.
Jimin approached slowly.
y/n didn’t turn. “Took you long enough.”
Jimin’s throat tightened. “y/n, I didn’t—”
“You didn’t what?” Her voice was calm. Too calm. “Didn’t think I’d figure it out? Didn’t think I’d remember that I’ve only ever told one person that story?”
Finally, she turned. Her eyes were glass—burning, but holding back the tears like they weren’t allowed to exist.
“You think I’m cruel?” she asked, stepping forward. “You think I’m manipulative? Cold? Fine. But I never lied to you.”
“y/n, I—”
“I trusted you.”
The words hit like a slap. Jimin had no defense. Her mouth opened. Nothing came out.
“You kissed me,” y/n said, softer now. “You held my hand. You looked at me like I was more than what everyone else sees.”
“I wasn’t trying to hurt you—”
“You did hurt me.” The anger cracked now, fury seeping through. “And for what? Calla’s little revenge fantasy? You wanted to ruin me?”
Jimin took a step forward. “It wasn’t supposed to go live. I saved it. I swear. I didn’t want it to be real.”
y/n laughed once. Bitter. Sharp.
“‘Didn’t want it to be real.’ That’s cute.” Her voice dripped poison. “But it is. Congratulations. You finally did it. You gave them what they always wanted—a reason to say I’m not human.”
Her shoulders trembled for half a second.
And then—
The mask slid back on.
y/n straightened, smoothed her shirt, and brushed a nonexistent strand of hair from her cheek.
Her eyes turned to ice.
“You want to play games, Jimin?” she said, voice cool, almost amused now. “Then let’s play.”
Jimin froze.
“You think I was mean before?” y/n smiled. “Sweetheart, that was me being kind.”
She took a step closer. Her lips near Jimin’s ear.
“I let you in. That was your biggest mistake. And mine.”
Then she turned and walked away. Graceful. Devastating.
A queen reclaiming her throne.
-----
y/n’s revenge started quietly.
No explosive accusations. No public confrontations.
Just whispers.
The kind of whispers that crawled into ears and burrowed under skin.
It began with small things—rumors that no one could place, stories that seemed to fit too perfectly.
The first one came through the gossip account, of course.
@PoisonLipz
“A new leader of the Sirens?
A new queen of high school?
Funny how Jimin’s rise happened just after someone fell from grace.
Funny how Jimin was the only one untouched.
Funny how a single kiss can ruin everything.”
Jimin stared at her phone, breath hitching. The post was a soft jab, nothing outright damaging—but it echoed the truth. It was too perfect. Too easy.
Jimin shook her head, closing the screen.
This wasn’t like before. Back when she thought she was playing the same game. She hadn’t thought the stakes would rise this high. She hadn’t thought y/n would rise up from the shadows to twist the knife herself.
Next came a subtle shift in the social currents.
Celeste, normally aloof, started giving Jimin colder looks. Renée’s usual over-protectiveness began to wear thin, and a small comment here and there pointed toward the question: Why hadn’t Jimin been targeted by PoisonLipz yet?
Was she in on it?
Is she the one who caused the fall?
Jimin began hearing it everywhere.
In whispers on the walkways. In the bathroom mirrors where her reflection looked too fragile.
She was being watched. But not with admiration. Not with jealousy.
With suspicion.
And Jimin knew who was behind it.
The last straw came one afternoon when Jimin found herself standing in front of her locker. There was a note in her bag. Scratched in hurried ink, a single line:
“You can only keep what you kill.”
She read it once. Twice. Three times, like a sick chant. The words had the same sharpness as everything y/n ever said—and the same absence of warmth.
Jimin’s heart pounded. She looked around, but the hallways were empty.
“y/n…” she whispered.
The next day, Jimin found her moment of peace shattered in an unexpected place.
She walked into the student lounge, her head heavy with the weight of not knowing. What was y/n’s game? How had she turned her own victory into a prison?
And there—sitting at a table behind Celeste and Renée, minding her own business—was the last thing she expected.
y/n.
Alone.
Not with the Sirens. Not with anyone. Just sitting there with her phone in her lap. No one even noticed. They were too distracted by whatever drama had unfolded in the last five minutes.
Jimin couldn’t help it. She walked closer, instinctively, drawn toward her. y/n hadn’t looked up. Not yet.
When Jimin was just a few feet away, y/n’s voice cut through the noise.
“You missed me.”
It wasn’t a question.
Jimin stopped in her tracks.
y/n looked up, her gaze soft but cold. “I’m not mad at you, Jimin. You just made a mistake.” She leaned back, stretching her legs out with that familiar, effortless grace.
“I didn’t mean to—”
“I know. But here’s the thing. You can’t play games if you don’t know the rules.”
Jimin’s breath caught. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
y/n let out a soft laugh, dark and sweet. “Of course you didn’t, but look at you now. You’re their queen.” She made a dismissive gesture toward Celeste and Renée, who were still talking behind her. “You’re better at this than you think.”
“I’m not. I never wanted to—”
“Sure you didn’t.” y/n’s voice was quieter now, a dangerous whisper. “But I don’t play games to lose. And right now, Jimin? You’re the game.”
Jimin’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. She hated how right the blonde sounded. She did feel like a pawn in a game she didn’t even know was being played.
y/n finally stood, brushing invisible dust off her outfit. “You’re right about one thing. I’m not mad at you. But when you have the crown, you play to win.”
y/n’s gaze softened for a second—just a brief flicker of something. And then it was gone. Just like that.
“I miss you,” Jimin whispered.
The younger girl paused, her lips twisting into a small, sad smile. "I know. But you have to understand..." She stepped closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "We can never go back to what we were."
Jimin's heart clenched, but she didn’t know how to answer.
y/n walked away, leaving Jimin standing there, feeling the loss more deeply than she'd ever expected.
The next few days were a blur of confusion, desperation, and growing tension. The rumors had gotten worse. Jimin had been questioned in the hallways. Her trust with Celeste and Renée felt strained.
And the whispers only grew louder.
But through it all, one thing stayed constant—y/n’s absence.
She had disappeared again, but Jimin could feel her watching. Like a shadow that never left.
-----
Jimin hadn’t been sleeping well.
Every night, it was the same—her mind racing, turning over y/n’s words, the silent whispers in the hallways, the weight of the crown she never asked for. The paranoia had settled in like a quiet poison. y/n’s absence was palpable, like a shadow she couldn’t shake. Jimin kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it never did.
Until the morning she found Calla leaning against her locker, a smirk on her face.
“Jimin,” Calla greeted her, an edge to her voice. “We need to talk.”
Jimin froze. “About what?”
Calla’s smirk deepened, her eyes glinting with something dangerous. “You’ve been quiet lately. I guess you're finally realizing what you’ve done.”
Jimin frowned, feeling the unease creep up her spine. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Calla’s laugh was cold. “Come on, Jimin. The Queen isn’t stupid. You know what I mean.” She stepped closer, her voice lowering. “It’s cute that you think you’re in charge now. But we both know how quickly power can slip through your fingers.”
“What are you talking about?” Jimin’s stomach tightened. She hated how easily Calla could make her feel small.
“You’re worried. You’re paranoid.” Calla took a step forward, closing the gap between them. “And you’re right to be. Because you didn’t just take y/n’s throne. You took her life, too.”
Jimin felt her breath catch. “What?”
Calla’s smirk didn’t waver. “You really don’t know, do you? You think you’re the only one who’s been playing games?” She reached into her bag and pulled out her phone, opening up PoisonLipz.
Jimin’s heart skipped a beat. She didn’t want to look, but she couldn’t stop herself.
There, at the top of the feed, was the post. The one about y/n’s sister.
Jimin’s blood ran cold. “You… you posted that?”
Calla’s smile twisted. “I didn’t want to. But I couldn’t help myself. You think I don’t know the weight of those secrets? I found the draft. The one you kept hidden. y/n told you, didn’t she? She trusted you. Funny, I was her best friend for years, yet she never told me.”
Jimin’s mind spun. It was you. Calla had posted it. Not because she needed to, but because she wanted to watch the destruction unfold.
“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” Jimin said softly, almost to herself. “I didn’t want to hurt y/n.”
Calla stepped closer, her voice sweet with malice. “You didn’t? But you did. And now you are the one in the spotlight. y/n is gone, and you have everything you wanted.”
Jimin took a step back, her chest tightening. “What do you want, Calla? What is this about?”
Calla’s eyes narrowed. “I’m tired of being second. I’m tired of you pretending like you’re the good girl who didn’t ask for any of this. You wanted her to fall. You wanted everything she had, and now you have it.”
Jimin’s fists clenched. “I never wanted this. I never wanted any of it.”
Calla’s face twisted into a smile. “It doesn’t matter what you want. What matters is who controls the game.” She paused, her voice dropping to a whisper. “And right now, Jimin? That’s me.”
Jimin felt the weight of Calla’s words settle deep into her chest. She had been so caught up in the game—so caught up in everything she hadn’t realized that Calla had been playing it, too. All along.
Then, as if the situation couldn’t get worse, Calla dropped the bomb.
“You think you’re safe from PoisonLipz?” she asked, her tone almost mocking. “You think you’re untouchable? You’re the next target, Jimin. You just don’t know it yet.”
Jimin froze, her breath caught in her throat. “What do you mean?”
Calla raised an eyebrow. “I mean you’re about to be exposed. For everything. The truth is, you’re just as guilty as the rest of us. You’re no different than y/n. Hell, maybe you are different. At least y/n knew she was a bitch.”
Jimin felt like the world had been ripped from under her. She wanted to scream, to punch Calla, but something inside her told her it was already too late.
“You’re lying,” Jimin whispered, but even she knew it wasn’t true.
Calla’s grin widened. “Am I? Wait for it, sweetheart. I’ll make sure you’re next. You’ll be just as much of a joke as she was. You’ll fall. Just like y/n.”
And with that, Calla turned and walked away, leaving Jimin standing in the hallway, her heart pounding in her chest.
That night, Jimin could barely breathe.
Her thoughts were consumed with Calla’s words—you’re next. She couldn’t shake the image of y/n, sitting there, broken and alone. The girl she had kissed. The girl she had hurt. The girl who had trusted her.
So, I'm working on a request: a Mean Girls AU. I'm probably going to drop the final thing tonight, so here's a teaser!
Yu Jimin (Karina) x fem!reader
Word Count: 560
______________________
Jimin stepped through the front doors of Rosehill Academy, her uniform perfectly pressed, her hair pulled into a sleek ponytail that made her cheekbones look even sharper than usual. Her transfer from Seoul had caused a quiet ripple across the student body days before she even arrived.
The new girl.
The girl who danced at national competitions. The girl with perfect skin, intimidating poise, and that unbothered air that made others feel instantly lesser just by standing near her.
By the time she reached her locker, eyes were already following her. Not with malice—not yet, but fascination. Who was she? Where did she come from? And most importantly… was she a threat?
Across the hall, y/n y/l/n watched the scene unfold with the same expression she always wore—half amusement, half boredom, and entirely unreadable. She stood at the center of a small constellation: Celeste and Renée flanking her like perfectly curated accessories, all of them dressed in matching pastel tones like they hadn’t even tried to coordinate. y/n’s phone was in her hand, but her gaze was locked on the new girl.
“She’s pretty,” Renée muttered, chewing on her lip gloss tube. “Like, real pretty.”
y/n smiled faintly. “She’s… interesting.”
The next time Jimin looked up, y/n was already walking toward her.
She didn’t strut—y/n never had to. The hallway parted for her naturally, like she was royalty moving through her court. Jimin noticed her immediately. Anyone would’ve. Her honey-blonde hair gleamed under the fluorescent lights, her eyes sharp and unreadable, and the slight smirk on her lips like she already knew every single thing about Jimin.
“Hi,” y/n said sweetly, like sugar laced with cyanide. “You must be the famous new girl. I’m y/n y/l/n. Welcome to Rosehill.”
Jimin blinked. “Thanks.”
“I know transferring in must be… overwhelming.” y/n tilted her head, her voice warm and breezy. “But don’t worry. I’ll make sure you don’t get lost. We always take care of pretty girls around here.”
It was flattering. It should’ve been flattering, but Jimin felt the air shift—just slightly—as y/n smiled at her. There was something… off. Something too precise. Like being watched by a snake dressed in Dior.
Before Jimin could reply, a voice whispered just behind her, low and urgent. “Don’t fall for it.”
She turned.
A girl with sharp eyeliner and tired eyes gave her a look like she was handing her the last parachute on a crashing plane. “She’s not what she seems. y/n y/l/n only smiles when she’s planning something.”
Jimin hesitated. “You know her?”
“We all do. She runs this place. Everyone who matters answers to her, whether they know it or not.”
Jimin glanced back toward y/n, who was still standing there, looking entirely unbothered as she scrolled through her phone like nothing had happened.
“She’s already picked you, you know?” the girl said. “Now you have two options. Be her new toy—or help us take her down.”
Jimin raised an eyebrow, half amused, half intrigued. “Us?”
The girl handed her a folded piece of paper. A single Instagram handle was written across it.
@PoisonLipz.
“Think about it,” she said. “Before she eats you alive.”
Jimin turned back toward y/n—and saw that the blonde was already watching her again, a glint in her eye like she’d been listening the whole time.
Hi, just now I saw an edit of Winter with Spider-Man, and since you did 3 stories, could you do one? Winter!Spider x reader. It could be a really cute story💖 But if you just play Karina! Spider it could be too. And if you don't do any more "Spider-Man" stories, that's fine. I hope you can do it, and if you do, without rushing.😎🤟
Took me forever, thank you for your patience... but! I hope you enjoy Tangled Webs and Heartstrings🫶🏻
Spider!Minjeong... subtlety has never been her thing!
Fluff
Kim Minjeong (Winter) x fem!reader
Word count: 4.3k
Yes, this was a request. Yes, I had lots of fun doing it. Sorry for the wait, hope it was worth it!
____________________
The school gym is packed.
It’s the end of the day, and the student council is setting up for some kind of fundraiser — a bake sale, a raffle, something y/n y/l/n had excitedly pitched with sparkles in her eyes and a hundred volunteers too afraid to say no. Minjeong isn't even sure why she’s here, crouched awkwardly behind the snack table in her hoodie, pretending to fix the paper banner even though she’s mostly just watching y/n from a distance.
She tells herself it’s purely coincidental. Totally accidental. Not at all because y/n looks extra pretty in her student council sash, or because she’d smiled at Minjeong earlier and said, “You’re helping too? Cute.”
Nope. Not because of that.
Minjeong fiddles with a roll of tape to distract herself. She’s not Spiderwoman right now. She’s just… Minjeong. Ordinary. Invisible. Safe.
Then, as if summoned by karma itself, she hears it:
“Ow—! Whoa—!”
She looks up just in time to see y/n — up on a bench trying to pin the final banner over the gym door — lose her balance.
Minjeong gasps, the world slows, she doesn’t think — just moves.
By the time y/n blinks, Spiderwoman is already there.
She swings in through the high gym windows, landing with a soft thwip of web. She catches y/n mid-fall, bridal-style, one arm around her back and the other steadying her knees.
y/n stares.
Spiderwoman blinks.
“…Hi?” Minjeong says, her voice just a little too high-pitched behind the mask.
y/n arches a brow. “You again?”
Spiderwoman gently sets her down on the ground. “You, uh, twisted your ankle. I think. I mean—I saw—well, not like I was watching you—I just—was passing by! Over the gym. You know. Swinging.” She gestures vaguely upward. “Air.”
y/n bites her lip, clearly fighting a smile. “You really do show up every time I so much as sneeze in public.”
“I—it’s not just you,” Spiderwoman mutters. “I save lots of people.”
“Right, sure.” y/n grins, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “You wouldn’t happen to be stalking me, would you?”
“I—what? No! No, I—who would do that? That’s crazy. So crazy. Like, unhinged, even.”
y/n leans in just a little. “You’re kind of cute when you panic.”
Minjeong makes a sound like a squeaky toy and nearly trips over her own web.
“I—I should go. You’re safe. Mission accomplished. Okay. Bye.”
She fires a web to the rafters, nearly misses, and stumbles as it catches. y/n watches, fully amused, as the masked hero flails for a second before swinging off, muttering to herself about "stupid gravity" and “why now of all times.”
y/n tilts her head, watching her disappear through the window.
She rubs her ankle, then glances down at her wrist.
Wrapped around it is a thin strand of web — almost like a ribbon. Almost like a calling card.
y/n smiles to herself. “Spiderwoman, huh?” she says under her breath. “Interesting.”
-----
Minjeong’s Room – 8:42 PM
Minjeong groans and drops face-first onto her bed, still wearing her Spiderwoman suit from the waist up, mask thrown to the floor in dramatic shame.
“Why am I like this,” she mumbles into her pillow.
She rolls over and stares at the ceiling, arms flopped out like a starfish. Her cheeks are still burning. She replays it in her head — the twist, the save, the bridal carry, the flirting.
“She called me cute,” Minjeong groans, grabbing a pillow and smacking herself with it. “She called me cute, and I ran away like a complete loser.”
The small radio on her desk buzzes to life with police chatter. She glances at it, then looks away.
“Nope. Not going out again tonight. The city can survive one night without me. I almost tripped on my own web… in front of her. I have no dignity left.”
She picks up a crumpled notebook and opens it. Inside are quick sketches — little doodles of Spiderwoman and a mysterious girl with a sash and a mischievous smile. She stares at it, then hurriedly shoves it under her pillow like it might explode.
“She definitely suspects something. I need to stop showing up every time she breathes.”
Pause.
“…She has a really nice smile though.”
--
y/n’s Room – 8:43 PM
y/n sits cross-legged on her bed, ankle wrapped in a soft bandage, phone in hand, and a suspiciously giddy look on her face.
Across from her, Ryujin lounges with a face mask on, peeking up from her book.
“Okay,” Ryujin says slowly, “what’s got you smiling like that? Did another freshman confess their love again?”
y/n snorts. “No, not this time. Though that was hilarious. No, today’s chaos was… new.”
She taps her screen and holds it up. It’s a blurry photo someone caught in the gym — Spiderwoman, mid-swing, cradling y/n in her arms like a rom-com hero. The caption: “She came flying in out of nowhere???”
Ryujin laughs. “Okay, that’s amazing. But also? She’s totally into you.”
y/n raises a brow. “She is?”
“y/n, be serious. You’ve been rescued, what, four times now? And somehow, it’s always you. That girl’s got a spider crush.”
y/n hums, not denying it. “She’s… interesting. I think I get why people like the mystery. But here’s the thing—” she leans forward, eyes glittering with mischief, “I think I know who she is.”
Ryujin lowers her book. “Wait, what?”
y/n smiles to herself and says nothing more. But in her head, she’s already thinking of the quiet girl in the hoodie, the way Minjeong panicked when their hands brushed last week, the way her voice trembled when she said y/n looked nice at the last student council meeting.
Too many coincidences.
And maybe… just maybe… y/n kind of wants it to be her.
-----
Minjeong stands at her locker, staring into it blankly like the answers to life are hidden behind her math books.
She hasn’t slept much — her dreams were full of red sashes, crooked smiles, and falling out of the sky into y/n y/l/n’s arms instead of the other way around. The memory of yesterday's disaster still burns under her skin.
She exhales sharply and mutters, “Just act normal. Be cool. Avoid eye contact. Maybe move to Canada.”
“Morning, Minjeong!”
Minjeong jumps so hard she almost drops her books.
y/n y/l/n is right behind her, glowing like the sun, hair done up in a lazy ponytail, sash off for the day but still carrying herself like royalty. Her ankle is wrapped but she walks just fine — too fine, if you ask Minjeong. Suspiciously fine.
y/n raises an amused brow. “Well, yeah. School. I do go here.”
“Right! Of course. Obviously.”
y/n leans a little closer, her voice lower now. “You look tired.”
Minjeong stares at her. “I slept. I mean—yes. I do that. Sleeping. At night. Regular hours. Normal human stuff.”
y/n grins like a cat who’s found a very entertaining mouse. “You know,” she says, twirling a strand of her hair, “Spiderwoman saved me again yesterday.”
Minjeong chokes on air.
y/n continues, voice sweet and casual. “She always shows up just in time. It’s weird, right? Almost like she’s watching me.”
Minjeong blinks. “That is weird. Super weird. Creepy, even. You should… maybe install cameras?”
y/n hums thoughtfully. “Or maybe I should just pay closer attention to the people around me.”
Minjeong lets out a high-pitched laugh. “Why would you do that?”
y/n just smiles and walks away, leaving a short-circuiting Minjeong frozen in front of her locker, fully broken.
-----
y/n didn’t plan to go get ice cream, but she’s finished her student council duties early, it’s a sunny day, and frankly, she feels like causing minor mischief. So, she heads out alone, takes a stroll, and ends up at her favorite spot near the park.
She's halfway through ordering when the universe intervenes.
A kid on a skateboard comes out of nowhere, careening down the sidewalk. y/n steps back just a little too late — her foot catches the curb, and she stumbles backward.
“Oh come on—”
Before she can hit the pavement, Spiderwoman drops down from above in an absolute flourish of limbs and webbing, catching y/n around the waist like she’s been waiting for this exact moment.
y/n ends up dipped backward like its prom night.
Spiderwoman blinks.
y/n smirks.
“…This is getting suspicious,” y/n murmurs, looking up at the masked girl who’s clearly blushing under that suit.
“I was just… around,” Spiderwoman squeaks.
“Of course you were.” y/n twirls a strand of her hair. “Let me guess. You were swinging over the ice cream parlor?”
Spiderwoman helps her upright again, awkward and bashful. “You’re okay though, right?”
y/n nods, brushing off her skirt. “I always am when you’re around.”
That definitely short-circuits Spiderwoman, who nearly stumbles over her own feet trying to swing off again. y/n watches her disappear into the sky, a smirk tugging at her lips.
“I’ve got to figure out who you are,” she says under her breath. “Because this? This is fun.”
-----
“I’m gonna die. This is it. This is how I go. Death by flirting. At least she’s hot.”
Minjeong drops her head onto the cafeteria table. Jimin gently pats her back like she’s in mourning. Aeri sips her drink, unimpressed. Yizhuo is already halfway through her bag of chips, eating with the energy of someone watching a reality show.
“What happened this time?” Aeri asks dryly.
“She almost fell at the ice cream shop yesterday,” Minjeong groans, still face-down. “And I just happened to be around. Again.”
“You mean,” Jimin says carefully, “you were stalking her.”
“No! I was just—okay yes, but lightly. I was passing by!”
“You swooped in and cradled her like a rom-com lead,” Yizhuo adds, tossing a chip into her mouth. “That’s not casual. That’s soulmate behavior.”
Minjeong lifts her head just enough to pout. “She’s onto me. I can tell. She kept looking at me weird this morning, and she keeps teasing me about Spiderwoman. I think she’s playing with me.”
“She smirked, Aeri. She smirked and said ‘you’re always around when I’m in trouble.’ Like—like I don’t try to save everyone. Like I’m her personal superhero.”
“Which you are,” Jimin says, beaming.
“I’m gonna get exposed,” Minjeong whimpers. “She’s going to unmask me and then laugh and say ‘wow I really thought you’d be taller.’”
“Honestly,” Yizhuo says, “if she finds out and still flirts with you, it’s a win.”
“IF!?”
--
y/n leans back in her chair, one leg crossed over the other, sipping an iced coffee like she owns the school. She taps her pen against her planner and smiles to herself.
Across the room, Ryujin raises a brow. “What are you plotting now?”
“Me?” y/n says innocently. “Nothing, just thinking.”
Ryujin doesn’t even blink. “Don’t lie to me, you’re glowing. That’s your mischief face.”
y/n sighs dramatically. “Fine. If I were plotting, hypothetically, it would be… a light social experiment.”
“Which means?”
y/n smiles wider. “I’ve narrowed it down. Spiderwoman is definitely someone from this school, and I think she might be Minjeong.”
Ryujin blinks. “The tiny one who blushes when you say ‘hi’?”
“The very same.”
“…y/n, be serious.”
“I am,” she hums. “Think about it. Spiderwoman’s voice? Nervous. Awkward. Like she’s trying to be confident and only halfway succeeding. She always shows up where I am, which is honestly flattering. And yesterday, Minjeong looked like she saw a ghost when I teased her about it.”
Ryujin stares. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
y/n leans forward, eyes glinting. “Oh, I’m thriving. And now… we test the waters.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m going to be somewhere ‘dangerous’ after school.”
“y/n—”
“I’m not going to actually fall off anything,” she says with a scoff. “I’m just going to see if she shows up.”
Ryujin pinches the bridge of her nose. “You’re such a menace.”
y/n grins. “She started it.”
-----
y/n stretches her arms as the afternoon sun casts a warm glow over the rooftop. She leans over the edge just a little, enough to look dramatic but not enough to trigger a real emergency.
She’s counting down in her head.
3… 2… 1…
Thwip.
“Hey! That’s not safe, y’know!”
y/n bites back a smile and turns, as if surprised. “Oh? Spiderwoman? What a coincidence.”
Minjeong — Spiderwoman — swings down from the rooftop ledge and lands in a little tumble-roll, clearly trying to appear cool despite the fact that she nearly faceplanted. “Wh-what are you doing up here? It's, uh… dangerous.”
y/n blinks innocently. “I just wanted to watch the sunset.”
Minjeong panics. “You could’ve fallen!”
“I had faith you'd catch me.”
That makes Spiderwoman stammer. “Wh— I mean—of course I would! I-I’m always around. Y’know. Just… protecting people.”
“Really?” y/n steps closer, eyes twinkling. “Because you seem to be protecting me a lot lately.”
Silence.
Spiderwoman lets out a nervous laugh, clearly glitching. “Haha… well, you… just have very bad luck, that’s all!”
y/n tilts her head. “Or maybe you like me.”
Spiderwoman makes an inhuman squeak. “W-what?! N-no— I mean yes— I mean no— I mean—!”
y/n walks past her, casually brushing her shoulder as she heads to the exit. “Thanks for the save, Spidey.”
Minjeong is left rooted in place, mask slightly askew, heart pounding. What she didn’t know was that the most stressful week of her life was about to start.
--
Day 1 – Monday:
y/n is standing beneath a ladder that a janitor is using. A bucket of paint just so happens to tilt from the top—
Thwip!
Spiderwoman catches it mid-air with a web, flinging it safely aside.
“You have the best timing.”
“You have the worst luck! Why were you just standing there?”
“Maybe I was hoping you'd show up.”
--
Day 2 – Tuesday:
y/n is carrying a suspiciously tall stack of books down the library stairs. Of course, she trips.
Spiderwoman catches her bridal-style.
“We really have to stop meeting like this.”
“Or you could just—like—not fall off things?!”
--
Day 3 – Wednesday:
y/n stands under a tree during lunch. A bird decides to attack her hair.
Spiderwoman appears out of nowhere, shooing the bird off like some chaotic fairy godmother.
“I feel like a Disney princess with a superhero guardian.”
“You need a leash, is what you need!”
--
Day 4 – Thursday:
y/n reaches to get a soda from a vending machine. The machine glitches. y/n shakes it. The machine teeters.
Spiderwoman swings in, literally kicks the machine to save y/n.
“That was hot.”
“THAT WAS DANGEROUS.”
--
Day 5 – Friday:
The week ends at the school theater. y/n is helping with stage decorations, she’s standing on a wobbly chair.
Of course, it tips.
And of course—Thwip!
y/n falls right into a web… and Spiderwoman’s arms.
She looks up, grinning. “You always catch me.”
Spiderwoman is quiet for a second. “Yeah… always.”
-----
y/n is sprawled on her bed, legs kicking behind her as she scribbles in a pink glittery notebook. At the top of the page in bubble letters:
“Reasons Why Minjeong is Spiderwoman”
Weird bruises she can’t explain
Always disappears before Spiderwoman shows up
Same height, same awkward voice
Adorably clumsy in both identities
I’ve fallen into her arms five times and it’s been the exact same hug every time
Minjeong’s ears turn red just like Spiderwoman’s mask does when she’s flustered
I just know okay???
y/n taps her pen against her lips, grinning to herself. “Time to poke the bear.”
-----
y/n corners Minjeong by her locker, leaning against it casually, smiling like she knows something.
“Hey, Minjeong.”
Minjeong, half-choking on her own spit: “O-oh! H-hi! Good morning! H-how are you!?”
“I’m great, actually. Bit of a weird week though. I’ve been rescued by a superhero like five times.”
y/n leans closer. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
Minjeong is frozen. “Me? Know about what?”
y/n lifts a brow. “Spiderwoman, of course.”
Minjeong nearly drops her books. “Wh-WHY WOULD I— no! I mean no! I mean why would you think I know her? I’m— I’m just—” she gestures vaguely at herself, “Minjeong.”
The other girl hums, eyes twinkling. “Sure you are.”
-----
During lunch, y/n is sitting with Liz, Ryujin, and Yeji at lunch, eyes locked across the room where Minjeong is poking at her food, clearly paranoid.
Yeji leans in. “So, uh… is it working?”
y/n smirks. “She’s one panic away from crawling up the wall.”
Liz smirks right back. “You’re playing with fire.”
Ryujin lets out a laugh. “Honestly? I’m rooting for the flames.”
y/n grins, “I just want her to admit it. And maybe kiss me after.”
--
Minjeong whispers across the table to herself as if in prayer. “I’m so doomed. I’m so, so doomed. She knows. She’s toying with me.”
“Is she flirting or threatening you?” Jimin asks carefully.
“Yes.”
-----
It’s a rare cloudy afternoon in the city, and school let out early due to some power outage. y/n, of course, decided to casually take a stroll toward her favorite boba shop. Alone. In a questionable alley shortcut. With her phone conveniently at 3%.
It was all part of the plan.
What wasn’t part of the plan was the sound of tires screeching way too close.
A reckless driver had hopped the curb just as y/n stepped off it—she froze. For real this time.
Before she could even blink, a blur of red and blue swung down and scooped her up bridal-style, soaring them both safely onto a nearby rooftop.
y/n’s arms are still wrapped tightly around Spiderwoman’s neck when she finally speaks.
“You came,” she whispers, wide-eyed and breathless for real this time.
Spiderwoman, trying to play it cool but visibly trembling, replies shakily, “Y-yeah, of course. You were—um—danger. Dangerous. In—no, wait. In danger.”
y/n doesn’t let go. In fact, she gets more comfortable, her voice going soft and sincere. “You’ve saved me so many times this week. I think it’s time I thanked you properly.”
Minjeong’s voice cracks through the mask. “Th-that’s not necessary! I-I mean, your safety is thanks enough—”
y/n leans in slowly, her fingers brushing the edge of the mask. “Just one kiss. For all the times you caught me.”
Before Minjeong can fully short-circuit, the girl in her arms lifts the mask just enough to reveal her lips—and kisses her.
It’s soft. Sure. But it sends Minjeong’s brain into a system reboot. Her hands, still holding y/n, stiffen like she’s forgotten how to human. Her knees buckle. Her heart stops.
And when y/n pulls back, grinning like the cat that caught the spider, she whispers right against Minjeong’s lips.
“Hi, Minjeong.”
Minjeong gasps. “W-WHAT?!”
“Told you I’d figure it out.”
Minjeong’s voice goes high-pitched. “You—You KISSED me to REVEAL ME?! That’s—that’s cheating! That’s emotional sabotage! That’s—”
y/n just laughs, cupping her cheek. “You looked cute in the suit. I had to know if you tasted sweet too.”
Minjeong genuinely collapsed.
-----
Two weeks had passed since The Rooftop Incident.
And Minjeong had not known peace.
Every time she turned a corner, y/n was there — smirking, tossing her hair, leaning against lockers like she was starring in her own rom-com, and absolutely thriving in the knowledge that she’d cracked the biggest secret in school. The one person who hadn’t been fooled? Of course, it was the girl who practically lived in Minjeong’s head.
Minjeong, meanwhile, had barely survived.
She had walked into four poles, missed two stair steps, and accidentally called her chemistry teacher “Your Majesty” once.
And now here they were, on the school rooftop again. This time, no mask, no excuses. Just them.
y/n sat with her legs dangling off the ledge, sipping from a strawberry juice box like she didn’t just alter the course of Minjeong’s entire life.
“So,” she said casually, “how does it feel to be exposed?”
y/n laughed. “You’re so dramatic. You got kissed by a pretty girl on a rooftop. That’s basically fanfiction-level romance.”
Minjeong covered her face with both hands. “You tricked me!”
“You kissed me back,” y/n shot back smugly.
“I panicked!”
“You cupped my waist.”
“…Nervous muscle memory!”
y/n leaned over her, face inches away, eyes soft now. “You can admit it, y’know. That you like me.”
Minjeong peeked through her fingers. “That obvious, huh?”
y/n nodded. “Like, painfully. I think even the pigeons knew.”
Minjeong sat up slowly, still pink from head to toe. “Fine. I like you. I’ve liked you forever. Since… before I even got bit, honestly. I was gonna tell you, eventually. Maybe. After graduation… or on my deathbed.”
y/n giggled, nudging her shoulder. “You’re lucky I like awkward nerds with superpowers.”
Minjeong blinked. “Wait—wait, you like me too?”
y/n scoffed. “What do you think the kissing was for? Science?”
“…That would’ve been less stressful, actually.”
y/n rolled her eyes affectionately and stood, dusting off her skirt. “Come on. Walk me home?”
Minjeong scrambled to her feet. “You want me to swing you?”
“Nope,” y/n said sweetly. “I want you to walk me. No suit. No excuses. Just my girlfriend.”
Minjeong choked. “Girlfriend?!”
y/n grinned, already heading for the stairs. “I kissed you as a thank you. You kissed me back. I’m just accepting your proposal.”
Minjeong stared after her, stunned. Then, with a dreamy little smile pulling at her lips, she jogged to catch up.
--
y/n leaned on the railing, watching the skyline, sipping another juice box. Behind her, a thump — the soft sound of someone landing.
“You’re late,” she said without turning.
Spiderwoman chuckled softly. “Some jerk locked himself out of his apartment five floors up. Had to help.”
y/n turned, arms crossed. “Mmm. Classic excuse. Got your priorities all out of whack.”
Spiderwoman stepped forward, mask half-off already. “But I made it, didn’t I?”
y/n softened instantly, walking up to her. “You always do.”
They stood there for a beat. Close, quiet.
y/n reached out, brushing a bit of hair from Minjeong’s face.
“You know,” she said softly, “I fell for both versions of you. The dork and the hero.”
Minjeong took her hand. “They’re the same girl, you know.”
Minjeong leaned in, voice gentle. “Then I guess I’m yours.”
y/n pulled her close. “About time.”
--
One Week Later – Group Chat: [Jimin, Aeri, Yizhuo, y/n, Minjeong]
Jimin:
sooooo you two are finally official huh
Aeri:
thank god. i was about to lock you in a closet until you kissed
Yizhuo:
the lesbian rooftop superhero romance is real… we won
y/n:
you’re welcome for the entertainment
Minjeong:
I feel so attacked
y/n:
you’re dating me now. get used to it.
Minjeong:
…okay
Yizhuo:
…Minjeong get up
_____________________
Bonus:
Six months later...
The morning sun poured through the half-open blinds, casting streaks of golden light across the tangled sheets. In the middle of the bed, Minjeong lay on her stomach, one leg hanging off the side, her face buried into the pillow. Her hair was sticking up at odd angles — clearly a victim of the night’s tossing and turning.
On the other side, y/n sat cross-legged, fully awake, brushing her teeth with a lollipop in her mouth.
“Minjeong,” she said through the candy stick. “You’re going to be late.”
Minjeong groaned. “Spiderwoman doesn’t do mornings.”
y/n poked her. “Spiderwoman also has physics first period and a quiz on friction.”
“…Friction is my enemy.”
y/n’s eyes sparkled. “I dunno, you didn’t seem to hate friction last night when—”
Minjeong launched a pillow at her with deadly precision.
y/n collapsed into giggles, hands up in surrender.
Later, in the kitchen, Minjeong, finally upright and conscious, munched on toast while leaning heavily against the counter.
y/n was in front of her, poking through a box of labeled gadgets Minjeong had been tinkering with. “What’s this one do?”
“Glows in the dark. Kind of useless but cool.”
“And this?”
“Explodes glitter.”
Pause.
“…That one’s for emergencies only.”
y/n’s eyebrows wiggled. “Define emergency.”
Minjeong deadpanned, “If I ever forget your birthday.”
y/n smiled wide, leaning up to kiss her cheek. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
Minjeong smiled down at her, eyes soft behind her glasses. “Lucky I’ve got you.”
--
Spiderwoman crouched on the edge of a building, surveying the city below.
Behind her, a voice crackled through her communicator. y/n’s voice.
“You know,” y/n said teasingly, “I think I liked you better when you were mysterious and broody. Now you’re just a soft little nerd with a grappling hook.”
Minjeong grinned under the mask. “You loved me when I was mysterious. You’re in love with me now.”
A pause.
Then her girlfriend replied, voice warm. “Yeah. I really am.”
Spiderwoman stood, wind brushing past her, and smiled out at the world.
She was awkward, nerdy, still tripped over her own feet half the time — but she was loved. Fully, completely, and fearlessly.
And with y/n in her corner?
She felt like she could do anything.
--
A Newscast Playing on a Shop Window:
“—and once again, Spiderwoman swooped in to stop a carjacking near the downtown plaza. Eyewitnesses say she seemed… embarrassed to take credit—”
y/n passed by the window, sipping her iced coffee, wearing Minjeong’s oversized hoodie. She glanced at the screen, smirked, and whispered to herself,
“Dork.”
Then she walked off down the street — texting one-handed.
y/n:
Miss you already.
Don’t fall off a roof.
I want cuddles when you’re back.
And my hoodie. Maybe.
Spiderwoman:
saving the world. brb.
but yes. cuddles.
and you can try to take the hoodie back.
____________________
A/N: Hi! I love these stories so much. Feel free to leave any requests, it'll take me forever, but I will write them eventually.
Hi, what's up! Yes, I've been MIA, but I'll try to be a bit more active this month. Here's a break up drabble I just did, I'm liking the idea of it, so I might get back to it later this week.
Angst
Karina (Yu Jimin) x fem!reader
Word count: 0.8k
____________________
It happens late at night.
Jimin is finally back in y/n’s city after weeks apart, and they’re supposed to be spending time together. But instead, Jimin is out—again. With him.
y/n knows she shouldn’t check the internet, but she does. She always does. And there it is… pictures of Jimin and Jeno at a restaurant, laughing, looking comfortable. There’s even a video, one where Jimin reaches out to playfully push Jeno’s shoulder as they joke about something. The comment section is filled with fans gushing about their chemistry, about how good they look together... about how maybe there’s something real there.
y/n throws her phone onto the bed and runs a hand through her hair, trying to breathe. She doesn’t want to be this person. She doesn’t want to be jealous. Jimin deserves to have friends.
But damn it, why couldn’t she have spent that time with her?
Her hands shake as she texts.
Are you coming over?
Fifteen minutes pass. No reply.
Twenty.
Thirty.
y/n grabs her phone again and presses call. It rings. Once. Twice. Five times. Voicemail.
And that’s it. That’s what breaks her.
By the time Jimin walks into y/n’s apartment, it’s past midnight. She’s tired, wearing a hoodie and a cap, her usual disguise to keep away prying eyes. She expects y/n to be asleep or waiting with that familiar, knowing smirk.
Instead, her girlfriend is standing in the living room, arms crossed, jaw tight.
Jimin pauses, sensing the tension instantly. “Hey,” she says, voice soft, like she knows something is wrong.
The younger girl doesn’t return the greeting. “Did you have fun?”
Jimin sighs, running a hand through her hair. “y/n—”
“I waited for you.”
That stops Jimin in her tracks. “I told you I was going out tonight.”
“You didn’t tell me it was with him again.” y/n’s voice is sharper now.
Jimin exhales, already frustrated. “Why does it matter?”
y/n scoffs. “Why does it—? Jimin, are you serious? Do you have any idea how it looks? How it feels?”
Jimin shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter how it looks. We know what’s real.”
y/n laughs bitterly. “Do we? Because to me, it looks like you’d rather be with him than with me.”
Jimin’s eyes darken. “That’s not fair.”
“No, what’s not fair is me sitting here like a fool, waiting for you, while the whole world thinks you belong to someone else.”
Jimin clenches her jaw. “You’re the one who wanted this to be a secret, y/n. You’re the one who said it would be better this way. That it would protect me.”
y/n falters. “I—”
“No.” Jimin steps closer, eyes burning. “You don’t get to be mad at me for doing exactly what you asked me to do, for being careful, for not making this harder than it already is.”
y/n swallows, her heart pounding. “You think this isn’t hard for me?”
Jimin exhales sharply, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “Then why are you making it worse?”
y/n lets out a shaky breath, her chest aching. “Because I love you.”
Jimin freezes.
y/n’s voice cracks. “Because I love you, and it kills me that I can’t even act like it. That I have to sit here and watch people talk about how perfect you’d be with someone else while I have to stay silent. That I have to watch you go out with him and just—what? Pretend it doesn’t bother me?”
Jimin’s expression softens for a second, but she doesn’t reach for her. She doesn’t close the distance between them.
And that’s when y/n knows.
That hesitation is enough to shatter her.
“Do you even want to be with me anymore?” The question comes out before she can stop it.
Jimin’s breath catches. “y/n—”
“Just tell me the truth, Jimin.”
Jimin swallows, her throat tight. Her silence stretches between them, suffocating, painful.
y/n’s vision blurs, but she refuses to cry. She refuses to be the first to break.
She takes a step back, and the distance between them feels like miles. “If you’re not going to choose me, then don’t string me along.”
Jimin’s entire body stiffens, panic flashing in her eyes. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
y/n’s voice wavers. “Then tell me you love me. Tell me I’m the only one.”
Jimin’s lips part—but the words don’t come.
And that silence? That’s all y/n needs to hear.
She nods slowly, letting out a shaky breath. “Okay.”
Jimin’s eyes widen, panic setting in. “Wait—”
“No.” y/n’s voice breaks this time. “I can’t do this anymore.”
Jimin steps forward, finally reaching for her, but y/n flinches back.
Jimin stops dead in her tracks, her hands trembling at her sides. “Baby, please—”
But the younger girl shakes her head, blinking back tears. “I love you, Jimin. But I’m not going to beg you to love me back.”
And then she turns away.
Jimin watches her go, watches as the person she loves walks out of the room, out of her life.
She could call out. She could stop her.
But she doesn’t.
And that’s the worst part.
Because the moment the door closes behind y/n, Jimin realizes—too late—that she’s just lost the best thing she’s ever had.
____________________
A/N: I was in the mood for drama tonight. Anyway, despite my eternal period of leave, feel free to drop requests, I'll eventually get to them, promise.
Karina plans to spend the holidays with her girlfriend... until everything comes apart.
A bit of angst, a bit of fluff
Karina (Yu Jimin) x fem!reader
Word count: 2.9k
My Christmas gift to you guys; happy holidays!
____________________
Los Angeles
y/n stared at her phone, her fingers hovering over the call button. The message from her manager still lingered on the screen, glaring at her like a cruel reminder:
"The Christmas charity concert is non-negotiable, y/n. It’s the biggest event of the season. You’re the headliner."
It wasn’t just about the concert—it was about her image, her fans, and the responsibility she carried as a so called “household name”. But this wasn’t just any Christmas; it was supposed to be her first real holiday with Jimin. A private, intimate celebration after months of stolen moments, late-night phone calls, and whispered "I love yous."
With a deep breath, she pressed the call button. The phone rang twice before Jimin’s familiar, warm voice answered.
“Hey, sunshine,” Jimin said, her tone instantly brightening y/n’s mood.
“Hi, babe,” y/n replied softly, though her usual spark was missing. She heard Jimin pause, as if sensing the shift in her tone.
“What’s wrong?” Jimin asked, her voice laced with concern.
The younger girl closed her eyes, wishing she could say anything else. “I... I can’t come to Seoul for Christmas.”
The silence that followed was deafening. y/n could imagine Jimin gripping her phone tightly, her lips pressed into a thin line as she processed the words.
“You promised…” Jimin finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I know,” y/n replied, her voice trembling. “I tried to push back, but it’s the charity concert. I have to be there.”
Jimin’s silence stretched again, but when she spoke, she forced her voice to remain steady. “I get it. Your fans need you, and this is important. It’s fine.”
But it wasn’t fine, and they both knew it.
“Jimin—” y/n started, but the older girl cut her off gently.
“It’s okay, sunshine. Really,” Jimin said, though there was a tightness in her voice. “We’ll figure it out. Maybe next year…”
y/n felt her heart crack. “I’ll make this up to you, I promise.”
“I know you will,” Jimin replied softly, before adding, “I should go. The girls are waiting for me.”
“Okay,” y/n said, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Merry Christmas, angel.”
“Merry Christmas, sunshine.”
As the call ended, y/n stared at her screen, guilt gnawing at her. She had never hated her career more than in that moment.
-----
Meanwhile in Seoul…
Jimin sat on the dorm couch, staring blankly at the Christmas lights twinkling on the small tree the group had decorated earlier that week. The room was filled with the smell of gingerbread and hot chocolate, the warmth of the season radiating from every corner, but to her, it all felt hollow.
She barely noticed Aeri plopping down beside her, a mug of hot chocolate in hand. “Hey, what’s with the long face? I thought you’d be buzzing with holiday spirit.”
Jimin tried to muster a smile, but it fell flat. “y/n can’t come home. She’s stuck doing a charity concert.”
Aeri frowned, setting her mug down. “That sucks. I know how much you were looking forward to seeing her.”
Aeri doesn’t point out the fact that Seoul has never been home to y/n. She understands Jimin is referring to herself.
“Yeah,” Jimin said, her voice barely audible.
From across the room, Minjeong looked up from the gingerbread house she was decorating—or rather, destroying. “Wait, she canceled on Christmas? That’s rough, unnie.”
Yizhuo, ever the nice one, chimed in. “Let me guess, you’re pretending you’re okay but secretly dying inside?”
“Yizhuo!” Aeri scolded, but Jimin let out a weak laugh.
“She’s not wrong,” Jimin admitted, running a hand through her hair. “I just... I really wanted this. Just one Christmas together.”
Minjeong walked over and plopped down on the other side of Jimin, looping an arm around her shoulder. “She’ll make it up to you. y/n adores you, you know that.”
“Yeah, but it still hurts,” Jimin confessed, her voice cracking.
The three girls exchanged glances. Aeri reached out and squeezed Jimin’s hand. “We’ll get you through this, okay? No moping around. We’ve got cookies to bake, movies to watch, and—”
“Hot chocolate to spill on each other,” Yizhuo added, smirking.
“Hey!” Minjeong shot back, glaring at the youngest.
Despite herself, Jimin smiled faintly at their antics. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”
-----
y/n stood backstage at the sprawling venue, the air buzzing with energy as staff members rushed around with last-minute preparations. The massive Christmas charity concert was only hours away, and she was the headliner. It was everything she’d worked for—but tonight, her heart wasn’t in it.
Her manager walked up to her, clipboard in hand. “y/n, the soundcheck’s in five minutes. You good?”
She forced a tight smile and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
But she wasn’t fine. She could barely focus, her mind wandering back to Seoul. She pictured Jimin sitting by the tree, sipping hot chocolate, her smile dimmed by disappointment.
Her chest tightened as she adjusted the microphone in her hand. This was supposed to be their first real holiday together, and she had ruined it. She glanced at the bouquet of lilies resting on her dressing room table, originally meant for Jimin. It felt like a cruel reminder of what she was missing.
As the soundcheck began, y/n pushed through the motions, her usual passion absent. When her manager finally gave her a break, she retreated to her dressing room and pulled out her phone.
Her thumb hovered over Jimin’s contact. She wanted to call her, to hear her voice and apologize again. But she hesitated, unsure if she deserved to interrupt Jimin’s night with yet another reminder of her absence. Instead, she typed a quick message:
“I miss you, more than words can say. Merry Christmas, my love.”
She stared at the screen, debating whether to send it. Before she could second-guess herself, she pressed send.
-----
Jimin lay sprawled on the dorm couch, her phone resting on her chest. The girls had tried their best to cheer her up with a night of baking, board games, and Christmas karaoke, but the void in her heart remained.
She stared at the twinkling lights of the tree, the colors blurring together as tears threatened to fall. Her phone buzzed, and her heart leapt. She grabbed it, hoping it was y/n.
It was.
“I miss you, more than words can say. Merry Christmas, my love.”
Her lips trembled as she reread the message, the pain of missing her girlfriend mixing with the warmth of knowing she was thinking of her.
“Who is it?” Yizhuo asked, peeking over Jimin’s shoulder.
“No one,” Jimin said quickly, clutching the phone to her chest.
The youngest rolled her eyes. “It’s your wife, isn’t it?”
“Leave her alone, Yizhuo,” Aeri called from the kitchen. “Let her pine in peace.”
“I’m not pining,” Jimin protested weakly, earning a chorus of laughter from her members.
She sighed and sent a reply:
“I miss you too. I hope tonight goes well. Merry Christmas, sunshine.”
As soon as she hit send, she placed the phone face down and stared at the ceiling. She wanted to be happy for y/n’s success, to support her as a good partner should, but the ache in her chest made it hard to focus on anything else.
-----
y/n’s phone vibrated, and she grabbed it immediately, her heart racing.
“I miss you too. I hope tonight goes well. Merry Christmas, sunshine.”
She smiled faintly, though the sadness lingered. She wanted to believe those words were enough, but deep down, she knew Jimin was hurting as much as she was.
Her manager’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “y/n, you’re up in five.”
“Right,” she said, slipping her phone into her bag. She adjusted her outfit in the mirror, plastered on a smile, and stepped out onto the stage.
The roar of the crowd was deafening, the energy electric. She waved, smiled, and began her set, her voice flawless as always. But as she sang her holiday ballad, the lyrics hit a little too close to home.
"Your love is the only gift I need..."
The crowd cheered, but her heart ached.
-----
Jimin stayed on the couch long after her phone’s screen dimmed. The dorm was quieter now; Yizhuo had finally stopped singing carols at the top of her lungs, and Aeri had retreated to her room with a mug of mulled wine. Only Minjeong remained, silently scrolling through her phone across the room.
Jimin traced the outline of her phone case absentmindedly. Every fiber of her being wanted to call her girlfriend, to hear her voice and feel close to her in some small way. But she resisted. y/n had a packed schedule, and she didn’t want to add to her stress.
“Jimin-ah,” Minjeong called softly. “Are you okay?”
Jimin blinked and sat up, attempting a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You’re a terrible liar,” Minjeong said, setting her phone aside. “You’ve been moping all night. It’s Christmas, unnie. You should be happy.”
“I know,” Jimin replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… I was really looking forward to seeing her, you know?”
Minjeong nodded, her expression sympathetic. “I get it. But you’ll see her soon, right? It’s not like she’s gone forever.”
Jimin chuckled dryly. “It feels like it sometimes.”
Minjeong hesitated before offering a suggestion. “Why don’t we go out? There’s still time to catch the lights in Myeongdong. It might help take your mind off things.”
Before Jimin could respond, Aeri poked her head out of her room. “Lights in Myeongdong? I’m in.”
“And I’ll drag Yizhuo if I have to,” Minjeong added with a grin.
Jimin hesitated. The idea of stepping outside into the bustling city streets felt overwhelming, but the thought of sitting in the dorm, wallowing, wasn’t any better.
“Fine,” she said at last, earning a cheer from her members.
The streets of Myeongdong were alive with holiday cheer, the air filled with laughter, chatter, and the scent of roasted chestnuts. Festive lights adorned every building, casting a warm glow over the bustling crowd.
Jimin trailed behind her members, her hands stuffed in her coat pockets. She couldn’t help but compare the scene to the quiet, intimate Christmas she’d imagined spending with y/n.
Aeri suddenly linked arms with her. “You’re not allowed to look sad tonight, okay? We’re going to have fun whether you like it or not.”
Jimin managed a small smile. “I’ll try.”
“Try harder,” Yizhuo teased, tugging on Jimin’s scarf. “You’re killing the vibe.”
They stopped at a vendor selling hotteok, the warm, sugary treats bringing a brief smile to Jimin’s face. As she bit into the crispy pastry, she felt a pang of nostalgia. y/n would’ve loved this.
“Let me guess,” Minjeong said, watching her closely. “You’re thinking about her again.”
Jimin sighed. “I can’t help it. Everything reminds me of her.”
Aeri patted her shoulder. “That’s love for you. But hey, at least you’ve got us tonight. We’re not y/n, but we’re pretty great company.”
“You guys are the best,” Jimin admitted, her smile finally reaching her eyes.
As the night wore on, Jimin started to feel lighter. She even laughed when Yizhuo tripped over a snowbank, scattering her snacks across the pavement. But as they walked back to the dorm, the weight of y/n’s absence settled over her once more.
She stared up at the sky, the stars twinkling like the city lights. “Merry Christmas, my heart,” she whispered, hoping y/n could somehow feel her words.
-----
The dorm was quiet when the girls finally returned from Myeongdong. Aeri and Minjeong were sprawled on the couch, arguing over a Christmas movie to watch, while Yizhuo was humming in the kitchen as she attempted to make hot cocoa.
Jimin kicked off her boots and sank into the armchair, pulling a blanket over herself. Her heart still ached, but the night out with her members had helped dull the sting.
“Unnie, you want hot cocoa?” Yizhuo called from the kitchen.
“No, thanks,” Jimin replied, her voice soft.
“Suit yourself!” Yizhuo sang, returning to her humming.
Jimin closed her eyes and leaned back, letting the warmth of the blanket and the faint chatter of her members lull her into a calm state.
The peace was interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Which one of you ordered delivery on Christmas?” Aeri wondered aloud.
“Maybe it’s a fan gift,” Minjeong said as she got up to answer it.
When she opened the door, she froze, her eyes wide.
“Who is it?” Yizhuo called, peeking out of the kitchen. She stopped in her tracks, her jaw dropping.
Jimin cracked an eye open, curious about the commotion. “What’s going on?”
Minjeong stepped aside, and there, standing in the doorway, was y/n.
Dressed in a chic winter coat and scarf, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder, y/n looked slightly winded, as though she’d come straight from the airport, but her smile was radiant, her eyes sparkling as they found Jimin.
“Hi, gorgeous,” y/n said, her voice warm and soft.
Jimin sat up, her blanket falling to the floor. “y/n?”
The room fell silent as the members watched the scene unfold.
y/n stepped inside, setting her bag down. “I couldn’t stay away. I told you I’d move heaven and earth to be here, and I meant it.”
For a moment, Jimin didn’t move. She simply stared, as if she couldn’t believe her girlfriend was really there, she was supposed to be in LA. Then, in an instant, she was on her feet, crossing the room and throwing her arms around y/n with enough force to lift the younger girl.
“You’re here,” Jimin whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re really here.”
y/n hugged her tightly, burying her face in Jimin’s shoulder. “I’m here,” she murmured. “I’m sorry it took so long.”
The other members exchanged knowing smiles before quietly slipping out of the room to give them privacy.
They sat together on the couch, the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights surrounding them. y/n held Jimin’s hand, her thumb gently brushing over her knuckles.
“How did you manage this?” Jimin asked, still in awe.
y/n chuckled. “It wasn’t easy. I had to rearrange a lot of things and promise a lot of favors. But I couldn’t imagine spending Christmas without you.”
Jimin’s heart swelled, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I missed you so much.”
The younger girl leaned closer, her forehead resting against Jimin’s. “I missed you too… more than words can say.”
For a moment, they simply sat there, lost in each other’s presence. The world outside faded away, leaving only the warmth of their connection.
“Merry Christmas, angel” y/n whispered, her lips brushing against Jimin’s in a tender kiss.
“Merry Christmas, sunshine” Jimin replied, her voice filled with love.
-----
The following morning, the dorm was filled with the smell of pancakes and the sound of laughter. y/n, still in her cozy sweater and pajama pants, was seated at the dining table, watching as Yizhuo and Minjeong bickered over who got to flip the pancakes next. Aeri was perched on the couch, sipping her coffee, smirking at the chaos.
Jimin emerged from her room, her hair tousled and her face glowing with happiness. y/n couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her.
“Merry Christmas, my love,” y/n greeted softly.
Jimin’s cheeks turned pink as she crossed the room, pressing a kiss to y/n’s forehead. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”
The moment was interrupted by Yizhuo’s exasperated voice. “Unnie, tell Minjeong that she’s burning the pancakes!”
Minjeong whirled around, spatula in hand. “I am not! They’re perfectly golden!”
“They’re crispy,” Yizhuo argued, pointing at the edges.
y/n and Jimin laughed as the bickering continued. Aeri rolled her eyes playfully, setting her coffee down, “Some of us want to eat breakfast.”
“Okay, enough,” Jimin said, stepping into the kitchen. “y/n and I will handle breakfast. You two can set the table.”
Minjeong pouted. “But I wanted to—”
“Table. Now,” Jimin said firmly, though her tone was light.
y/n joined her at the stove, the two of them working in perfect harmony as they flipped pancakes and prepared the rest of the meal. Every so often, y/n would steal a glance at Jimin, her heart full of gratitude.
When breakfast was finally ready, they all gathered around the table, their plates piled high with pancakes, fruit, and syrup. The sound of laughter and clinking forks filled the air as they enjoyed the meal together.
At one point, Yizhuo raised her glass of orange juice. “To y/n, for making our Christmas extra special and stopping Jimin-unnie from rotting on the couch!”
The others joined in, raising their glasses. “To y/n!”
y/n blushed, glancing at Jimin, who gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” y/n said softly. “But really, I’m just glad to be here with all of you.”
The rest of the day was spent exchanging gifts, watching holiday movies, and playing games. y/n fit right in, her laughter blending seamlessly with the others’. Jimin couldn’t stop smiling, her heart swelling with happiness at having y/n by her side.
As the day turned to evening, y/n and Jimin found themselves alone on the balcony, wrapped in blankets as they watched the snow fall.
“This is perfect,” Jimin murmured, leaning her head on y/n’s shoulder.
y/n kissed the top of her head. “It really is. I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”
Jimin looked up at her, her eyes shining with love. “Thank you for coming. For everything.”
y/n cupped her face, her thumb brushing against Jimin’s cheek. “I’d do it all over again, a thousand times, just to be here with you.”
Their lips met in a kiss, sweet and full of promise. As the snow continued to fall, the world felt warm, their hearts beating as one.
Hiyaaa!! Can I request like Jimin and fem!reader being in an arranged marriage and Jimin being very uptight and cold always with a frown!!! And reader’s like the compte opposite of that and is very bubbly and sunshine-ish and obviously gets hurts by Jimin’s behaviour so they work through the struggles and find love?? 😭😭 I know this is very complex but I had a similar dream so yeahhh
Princess y/n is forced to marry Lady Yu in order to secure an allyship; however, being engaged to the youngest member of the Yu family is anything but pleasant.
Arranged marriage
Angst? A bit of fluff?
Karina (Yu Jimin) x fem!reader
Word count: 7.5k
Another request I had a lot of fun with, honestly.
_____________________
The grand hall of the royal palace is filled with tension. y/n stands by her parents, the king and queen, in a gown as radiant as her smile. Her hair catches the sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows. She looks calm, but inside, her heart flutters with uncertainty.
Across the room stands Jimin, dressed immaculately in a tailored suit, her expression a mask of stoicism. Her sharp features betray no hint of emotion, her hands clasped behind her back as though she’s bracing herself. Her parents, the Duke and Duchess of the Yu family, stand beside her, wearing expressions of pride.
The king clears his throat, his voice carrying authority as he addresses the gathered nobles and dignitaries.
“We are pleased to announce a union that will strengthen the bonds between our families. Princess y/n y/l/n and Lady Yu Jimin will be wed by royal decree.”
The room erupts in polite applause. y/n glances nervously at Jimin, offering a small, hopeful smile. Jimin meets her gaze but doesn’t return the smile. Instead, she offers a curt nod before looking away.
y/n’s heart sinks a little. This is going to be harder than I thought.
Later, as the formalities conclude, y/n approaches Jimin, determined to break the ice.
“Well, I guess we’re stuck together,” she says, her voice light and teasing. “We might as well try to make the best of it.”
Jimin’s eyes flicker to her briefly, cold and detached. “This isn’t about what we want, it’s about duty. Don’t mistake it for anything else.”
The words cut, but y/n refuses to let them show. She tilts her head, offering a brighter smile. “Well, my duty is to be a good wife. Maybe yours should be to at least try to get along with me.”
Jimin blinks, momentarily caught off guard, but her expression hardens again. She inclines her head stiffly. “As you wish, Your Highness.”
y/n watches her walk away, frustration bubbling beneath her cheerful facade. She mutters under her breath, “What a charmer.”
-----
The grand dining hall is an exquisite display of luxury, with long tables draped in silk and adorned with gold candelabras. The royal family and the Yus sit at the head table, with y/n and Jimin side by side at the center. y/n fidgets with the edge of her napkin, her attempts to engage Jimin earlier still weighing on her mind.
The conversation flows smoothly among their families, though y/n barely listens. She’s too aware of Jimin beside her, sitting stiffly, her hands resting on the table as though she’s attending a military briefing.
y/n leans closer, lowering her voice. “You know, you could at least pretend to enjoy yourself. It wouldn’t kill you to smile.”
Jimin doesn’t look at her. “Why waste energy on something so unnecessary?”
y/n stares at her, incredulous. “Unnecessary? We’re literally announcing our engagement. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather people didn’t think we’re doomed from the start.”
Jimin turns her head, her sharp gaze pinning y/n in place. “What people think is irrelevant. What matters is that we fulfill our roles.”
y/n bites back a retort, her frustration rising. “You make it sound like we’re chess pieces. Don’t you think this would be easier if we at least tried to… I don’t know, be human about it?”
Before Jimin can respond, the king raises his glass, silencing the room. He smiles warmly at y/n and Jimin.
“To the future of our families and this union. May it bring prosperity and strength to us all.”
The room erupts in a chorus of “hear, hear,” and y/n forces a smile, raising her glass. She sneaks a glance at Jimin, who lifts her glass with the same detached grace she’s shown all evening.
As the toasts conclude, y/n mutters under her breath, “I bet you’d be better company as a statue.”
Jimin’s lips twitch—just barely, but enough for y/n to catch it. Surprised, she blinks at her.
“Did you… almost smile?”
Jimin sets her glass down, her face blank again. “You’re imagining things.”
y/n huffs, crossing her arms. “Fine. But I’ll get a smile out of you eventually.”
Jimin doesn’t respond, but the faintest flicker of amusement dances in her eyes before it disappears.
-----
The engagement dinner had finally ended, and y/n practically fled to her chambers, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floors. She threw herself onto the plush sofa near the window, letting out an exasperated groan.
Moments later, the door creaked open, and Liz peeked inside, her lips curling into an amused smirk. “I thought I’d find you sulking in here.”
y/n sat up, narrowing her eyes. “I’m not sulking. I’m… processing.”
Liz stepped in, closing the door behind her. “Processing? Interesting choice of words. Tell me, how’s married life shaping up with our beloved Ice Queen?”
y/n glared at her older sister. “Liz, I swear, if you call her that one more time…”
Liz plopped down beside her, unbothered. “I mean, am I wrong? The woman practically froze the air around her during dinner.”
y/n sighed, burying her face in her hands. “It’s like talking to a brick wall. No, worse—because at least a brick wall doesn’t actively try to make you feel like an idiot.”
Liz chuckled, patting y/n’s shoulder. “Come on, it can’t be that bad. Maybe she’s just… shy.”
“Shy?” y/n looked at her incredulously. “No, Liz, shy is blushing and stammering. She’s cold, calculating, and—” She hesitated, her voice softening. “And probably really angry about all this.”
Liz tilted her head, studying her sister. “You think she resents the marriage that much?”
y/n nodded. “She said it outright. She doesn’t care about me or what people think—she’s just here to ‘fulfill her role.’”
Liz leaned back, crossing her legs. “Well, that’s annoying. But if you ask me, she’s probably not as indifferent as she lets on.”
y/n frowned. “What makes you say that?”
“Because she hasn’t walked away,” Liz said simply. “She could’ve made this even more miserable for you by being openly defiant, but she hasn’t. She’s still showing up, playing along—even if she’s terrible at it.”
y/n mulled over her sister’s words, her frustration easing slightly. “Maybe. But I just… I want her to see me as more than an obligation. Is that too much to ask?”
Liz smiled softly. “No, it’s not. But you’re going to have to be patient. Someone like her probably isn’t used to letting people in. And if anyone can melt her icy exterior, it’s you.”
y/n groaned, flopping back onto the couch. “Why do I have to be the one to do all the work?”
Liz laughed, standing. “Because you’re the sunbeam in this partnership, darling. Now, get some rest. Tomorrow’s another day to dazzle her with your charm.”
y/n watched her sister leave, feeling both comforted and slightly annoyed by her words. As much as Liz’s teasing irked her, y/n knew she was right. If she wanted this to work, she’d have to keep trying—no matter how stubborn Jimin was.
-----
The grand studio was filled with the soft scent of oil paints and the warm glow of afternoon sunlight streaming through tall windows. An ornate chaise lounge sat at the center, draped in silk, where y/n perched with an easy grace.
Across from her stood Jimin, stiff as a board, her posture rigid and unyielding.
“Lady Yu,” the artist began nervously, glancing between the two, “could you perhaps… relax a little? Maybe lean toward Her Highness? You’re supposed to look like you’re in love, after all.”
Jimin’s jaw tightened, her gaze fixed ahead. “This is as relaxed as I get.”
y/n sighed, giving the artist an apologetic smile. “Don’t worry, she’s always like this. Stiff as a sword.”
Jimin’s eyes flickered to her briefly, a flash of irritation sparking behind them. “I’m right here, you know.”
y/n grinned. “Oh, I know. Hard to miss someone radiating so much… enthusiasm.”
“Your Highness,” Jimin replied coolly, “if you want to waste your energy teasing me, that’s your prerogative. But I’d prefer if we just got this over with.”
The artist cleared his throat, nervously adjusting his palette. “Perhaps if Lady Yu placed her hand on Her Highness’s shoulder?”
y/n brightened. “Oh, yes, let’s do that! Come on, Jimin, you can manage one little touch, can’t you?”
Jimin hesitated, her expression unreadable. After a long pause, she stepped forward and placed her hand lightly on y/n’s shoulder, her movements calculated and distant.
y/n glanced up at her, frowning. “You’re not going to break me, you know. You could at least try to look comfortable.”
Jimin’s lips twitched—just barely—but her voice remained steady. “I wasn’t aware comfort was a requirement for royal duties.”
y/n rolled her eyes but leaned into the touch anyway, her sunny demeanor unshaken. “Fine. Be a statue, then. I’ll carry this entire portrait myself.”
The artist began his work, his brush strokes filling the silence between them. As the minutes passed, y/n’s gaze wandered to Jimin’s hand on her shoulder. It wasn’t as cold as she expected—it was steady, grounding even.
“Why do you have to be like this?” y/n asked suddenly, her voice softer than before.
Jimin hesitated, her fingers twitching slightly on y/n’s shoulder. “I’m doing what’s expected of me. That’s all.”
y/n sighed, turning her head to meet Jimin’s gaze. “Maybe what’s expected isn’t always what’s right.”
For a moment, something flickered in Jimin’s eyes—doubt, perhaps, or something softer. But it vanished as quickly as it came.
“Your Highness,” Jimin said quietly, her voice steady but lacking its usual edge, “not everyone can be as carefree as you.”
y/n tilted her head, studying her. “Maybe you should try it sometime. You might like it.”
The artist looked up, startled. “Ah, perfect! That’s the look I was waiting for!”
Both women snapped their attention back to him, their moment broken. y/n smiled slightly, while Jimin quickly dropped her hand and stepped back, her cool mask slipping back into place.
-----
The royal garden was in full bloom, a kaleidoscope of colors stretching as far as the eye could see. y/n loved this place—its beauty, its serenity. It was where she went to clear her mind after moments like the awkward portrait session with Jimin.
As she wandered along the cobblestone paths, humming softly to herself, she stopped to admire a patch of roses. Lost in thought, she didn’t notice the unfamiliar footsteps approaching until it was too late.
“Princess y/n,” a low, unfamiliar voice interrupted her reverie.
y/n turned, her pleasant smile faltering slightly as she saw a young nobleman striding toward her. He was handsome, confident, and radiated the kind of charm that usually made her parents beam with approval.
“Lord Minho,” y/n greeted politely, masking her unease. She remembered meeting him at the engagement dinner, though he’d been stationed far from her at the table.
“Forgive me for approaching unannounced,” he said, his tone smooth, “but I couldn’t resist the chance to speak with you alone. You’re even lovelier in the sunlight.”
y/n’s smile tightened. “That’s very kind of you, my lord. But I was just about to—”
“Stay a while,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “Surely your betrothed wouldn’t mind you sharing a moment with an admirer?”
y/n’s patience wavered. “My betrothed might have something to say about that.”
“Would I?”
The cool, clipped tone sent a shiver down y/n’s spine. She turned to see Jimin standing a short distance away, her arms crossed and her expression as sharp as a blade.
Lord Minho straightened, his confidence faltering for the first time. “Lady Yu, I didn’t realize you were here.”
“Clearly,” Jimin replied, striding forward with measured precision. She stopped beside y/n, her presence commanding. “The princess is quite busy. I’m sure you understand.”
y/n glanced at Jimin, a mix of surprise and relief flooding her.
Lord Minho hesitated but bowed slightly. “Of course. I’ll take my leave.”
As he retreated, Jimin’s gaze lingered on him until he disappeared from view. Then, she turned to y/n, her expression unreadable.
“Are you all right?” Jimin asked, her voice softer than y/n expected.
The princess blinked, caught off guard by the question. “I… yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”
Jimin nodded, her posture relaxing just a fraction. “You shouldn’t wander alone. People like him are drawn to power—and you’re an easy target.”
y/n tilted her head, a teasing smile forming. “Are you worried about me?”
Jimin’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t look away. “It’s my job to be.”
y/n studied the older girl for a moment, warmth blooming in her chest despite Jimin’s cold tone. “Well, whether it’s your job or not… thank you, Jimin.”
Jimin didn’t reply, but her gaze lingered on y/n for a heartbeat longer before she stepped back, falling into her usual guarded stance.
As they walked back toward the palace, y/n couldn’t help but notice the slight shift in Jimin’s demeanor—a crack in her icy facade that made her feel just a little closer to her enigmatic betrothed.
-----
The royal dining hall was as grand as ever, with crystal chandeliers casting a warm glow over the long table. y/n and Jimin sat side by side, joined by a few courtiers and y/n’s ever-curious sister, Liz.
Dinner was uneventful until Liz leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, Jimin, have you and y/n planned anything for your honeymoon yet?”
y/n choked on her wine, quickly setting the glass down. “Liz!”
Jimin didn’t even flinch. She calmly dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin before replying, “We haven’t discussed it. I imagine it will be a standard arrangement.”
“Standard?” y/n asked, raising an eyebrow. “You make it sound like a business trip.”
“Isn’t that what this marriage is?” Jimin replied coolly, not even glancing her way.
Liz’s smile faltered slightly, but y/n wasn’t one to let tension sit for long. “Well, if it’s a business trip, I demand first-class accommodations. I refuse to settle for anything less.”
Jimin finally looked at her, her expression as neutral as ever. “You’ll have whatever arrangements are suitable for a princess.”
y/n narrowed her eyes, leaning closer. “You know, Jimin, you could at least pretend to enjoy my company. It wouldn’t kill you.”
“Let’s not test that theory,” Jimin replied, her tone clipped.
Liz tried to stifle a laugh behind her napkin, but y/n wasn’t done. “You’re impossible, you know that?” she said, leaning closer still, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “But don’t worry—I’m patient. I’ll break through that ice eventually.”
Jimin’s eyes flickered, a flash of something unidentifiable crossing her face. For a moment, y/n thought she might snap back, but instead, Jimin straightened and said, “Good luck with that, Your Highness.”
The conversation shifted as Liz and the courtiers steered the topic elsewhere, but y/n couldn’t help stealing glances at Jimin. Despite the older woman’s composed exterior, y/n caught the subtle clench of her jaw and the faint pink tinge to her ears.
Later that evening, y/n found herself wandering the hallways of the palace, her frustration bubbling over. She turned a corner and nearly ran straight into Jimin, who was heading back to her quarters.
“Jimin!” y/n exclaimed, taking a step back.
Jimin immediately stepped aside, bowing her head slightly. “Your Highness.”
y/n crossed her arms, determined not to let her go so easily. “Why are you like this?”
Jimin blinked, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”
“Like this,” y/n repeated, gesturing vaguely toward her. “Cold, distant, acting like being near me is some kind of punishment. I get it—you didn’t choose this marriage. Neither did I! But we’re stuck with it, so why not make the best of it?”
Jimin hesitated, her usual composure wavering for a split second. “I’m fulfilling my duty, Princess. That’s all there is to it.”
y/n stepped closer, her voice softening. “But that’s not all there is to it, is it? You’re not a robot, Jimin. You feel things—you just won’t let yourself show it.”
For a moment, Jimin said nothing, her eyes locked on y/n’s. Then, she stepped back, her expression hardening again. “Good night, Your Highness.”
She turned and walked away, leaving y/n standing alone in the dimly lit hallway, her heart pounding with frustration—and something else she couldn’t quite name.
-----
It was late afternoon, and y/n found herself in the library, where she’d tracked Jimin down after spotting her heading inside. y/n had been determined to spend more time with her aloof betrothed, hoping that persistence would eventually chip away at Jimin’s icy walls.
“Jimin,” y/n said brightly, stepping into the quiet room. “I was thinking we could take a ride through the woods tomorrow. It’s been ages since I’ve been horseback riding, and I hear you’re quite skilled.”
Jimin, seated at one of the tables, barely looked up from the book she was reading. “I’ll have to decline, Princess. My schedule is already full.”
y/n rolled her eyes, walking over to the table. “Oh, come on. You can’t tell me there’s nothing you can shift around. It’ll be fun!”
Jimin closed her book with a quiet snap, finally meeting y/n’s gaze. Her expression was impassive, but her words carried a sharp edge. “Why do you keep doing this?”
y/n blinked, taken aback. “Doing what?”
“This,” Jimin said, gesturing vaguely. “Trying to force something that isn’t there. We’re not friends, y/n. We’re not lovers. We’re a political arrangement, nothing more. So stop trying to make it something it’s not.”
The words hit y/n like a slap. For a moment, she could only stare at Jimin, the older girl’s cold demeanor cutting deeper than ever before.
“I see,” y/n said softly, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. “Well, thank you for clearing that up.”
She turned and walked away before Jimin could see the tears welling up in her eyes.
-----
For the next few days, y/n kept her distance. She attended meals, meetings, and events with Jimin as expected, but she no longer went out of her way to engage with her. Her sunny demeanor dimmed, replaced by a polite but distant professionalism that mirrored Jimin’s own.
At first, Jimin didn’t seem to notice—or perhaps she pretended not to. But as the days turned into a week, something shifted.
During a formal dinner with visiting dignitaries, y/n sat beside Jimin but barely acknowledged her. She laughed and chatted with the guests, her charm on full display, but when Jimin made an offhand comment to her, the princess responded with a curt nod and returned her attention to the others.
Liz noticed the change almost immediately. After the dinner, she pulled her sister aside.
“What’s going on?” Liz asked, her voice laced with concern.
“Nothing,” y/n said, forcing a smile. “I’m just… taking Jimin’s advice. Treating this marriage for what it is.”
Liz frowned. “y/n…”
“I’m fine, Liz,” y/n interrupted, her tone firmer than usual. “Really. Don’t worry about me.”
But Liz did worry—and so, it seemed, did Jimin.
-----
One evening, Jimin found herself pacing in her quarters, an unfamiliar knot of unease twisting in her chest. She’d told herself that y/n’s retreat was a good thing—that it was what she wanted. But now, as she replayed their last real conversation in her mind, a strange guilt began to creep in.
The next morning, she saw y/n in the garden, speaking with a young nobleman who had clearly taken an interest in her. y/n laughed at something he said, her smile radiant but tinged with a faint sadness that Jimin couldn’t ignore.
Jimin’s hand tightened into a fist at her side.
“Jealous, are we?” Liz’s voice startled her.
Jimin turned to find y/n’s sister standing a few feet away, arms crossed and a knowing smirk on her face.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jimin replied coolly.
“Sure you don’t,” Liz said, stepping closer. “But let me give you a piece of advice, Jimin. If you keep pushing her away, you’re going to lose her—and not just as your wife.”
With that, Liz walked away, leaving Jimin alone with her thoughts—and the uncomfortable realization that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want to lose y/n after all.
-----
The shift in y/n’s demeanor was subtle, but it was enough to unsettle Jimin. The princess still fulfilled her royal duties with grace, smiling politely during public appearances and chatting animatedly with others, but when it came to Jimin, the warmth that once radiated from her was gone.
She no longer sought Jimin out for conversation or tried to include her in her plans. In fact, y/n seemed to avoid her whenever possible, her interactions reduced to formalities.
It was driving Jimin mad.
One afternoon, Jimin spotted y/n in the palace gardens, sitting on a bench with a sketchpad balanced on her lap. She was alone, the usual crowd of admirers conspicuously absent.
Jimin hesitated for a moment before approaching.
“Good afternoon, Princess,” she said, her voice carefully measured.
y/n looked up, her expression unreadable. “Good afternoon, Jimin.”
Jimin cleared her throat. “I didn’t know you sketched.”
y/n shrugged, her gaze returning to the page. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
The words stung, but Jimin didn’t let it show. She took a seat on the bench beside the princess, her posture stiff. “May I see?”
y/n hesitated, then turned the sketchpad toward Jimin. The drawing was of a rose bush nearby, its petals rendered with surprising detail.
“It’s beautiful,” Jimin said honestly.
“Thank you,” y/n replied, her tone polite but distant. She pulled the sketchpad back and began to pack up her supplies.
“You’re leaving already?” Jimin asked.
“I have other things to do,” y/n said simply, standing and giving Jimin a small nod. “Enjoy the garden, Jimin.”
As y/n walked away, Jimin felt an unfamiliar pang of frustration—and something deeper.
The next evening, Jimin found y/n in the grand ballroom, practicing a waltz with one of the royal instructors. She stood in the doorway, watching as y/n twirled gracefully across the floor, her laughter filling the air as the instructor made a joking remark.
When the lesson ended and the instructor left, Jimin stepped inside.
“You’re a good dancer,” she said.
y/n turned, her expression neutral. “Thank you.”
Jimin hesitated. “Would you like to dance again?”
y/n raised an eyebrow. “Why? So you can criticize my form?”
She swept past Jimin without another word, leaving the older girl standing alone in the ballroom, her hands clenched into fists.
Later that night, Jimin paced in her quarters, replaying the events of the past week in her mind. She couldn’t deny it any longer—she missed y/n’s warmth, her laughter, her relentless optimism.
The next morning, she made her way to the kitchens, where she quietly requested a tray of y/n’s favorite breakfast items.
When the tray was delivered to y/n’s chambers, the princess opened the door to find Jimin standing there, her expression unusually hesitant.
“What’s this?” y/n asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.
“A peace offering,” Jimin said, her voice soft.
y/n folded her arms. “Why would you think we’re at war?”
Jimin sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I’ve been… difficult. And I know I’ve hurt you. I just… I wanted to apologize.”
y/n regarded her for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she stepped aside, motioning for Jimin to enter.
“Come in,” she said.
It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
-----
The following days saw Jimin trying, in her own awkward way, to bridge the gap between her and y/n. It wasn’t dramatic or grand, but in small, quiet gestures that spoke louder than words.
One morning, y/n walked into the dining hall to find Jimin already there, holding a cup of tea.
“For you,” Jimin said, extending the cup.
The younger girl blinked, caught off guard. “You made me tea?”
Jimin nodded. “I remembered you said you liked it with a hint of honey.”
y/n hesitated for a moment before accepting the cup. She sipped it, hiding the flicker of surprise when it turned out to be exactly how she liked it. “Thank you,” she said, her tone guarded.
Jimin gave her a small nod before returning to her seat, leaving y/n to wonder how long she’d been paying attention.
Despite Jimin’s efforts, her cold demeanor still slipped through at times.
During a formal event, y/n was her usual charming self, mingling effortlessly with the guests. Jimin, standing at her side, remained stoic and distant.
When one of the guests, a visiting duke, complimented y/n on her beauty and grace, Jimin didn’t react. But when the duke asked y/n for a dance, Jimin’s jaw tightened imperceptibly.
y/n, sensing the tension, agreed to the dance with a dazzling smile. She glided across the floor, her laughter echoing as the duke made her spin.
Jimin watched from the sidelines, her expression unreadable. But when y/n returned, she couldn’t resist a sharp comment.
“You seemed to enjoy yourself,” Jimin said, her voice cool.
y/n raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Jimin muttered, turning away.
y/n stared after her, a mix of frustration and confusion bubbling in her chest. Still as charming as ever…
That night, Jimin found herself pacing outside y/n’s chambers, debating whether to knock. Finally, she mustered the courage and raised her hand, rapping gently on the door.
“Come in,” the princess called.
Jimin stepped inside to find the younger girl sitting by the fireplace, a book in her lap. She looked up, her expression guarded.
“Can I help you?” y/n asked.
Jimin shifted awkwardly. “I wanted to apologize. For earlier.”
y/n set her book aside, studying Jimin carefully. “Why are you trying so hard, Jimin?”
Jimin froze, caught off guard by the question.
y/n continued, her voice tinged with vulnerability. “For weeks, you made it clear that you wanted nothing to do with me. And now you’re bringing me tea and apologizing for things you wouldn’t have thought twice about before. What changed?”
Jimin hesitated, her usual composure cracking under y/n’s piercing gaze. Finally, she spoke, her voice quiet.
“You did.”
y/n’s breath caught, her heart pounding in her chest. She opened her mouth to respond, but Jimin shook her head.
“Goodnight, Princess,” Jimin said, her voice soft as she turned and left the room, leaving y/n staring after her, a swirl of emotions in her chest.
-----
The days that followed were a dance of unspoken words and cautious steps. y/n maintained her composure, determined not to let Jimin’s sudden change of heart sway her so easily.
But Jimin didn’t stop.
She would linger longer during shared meals, initiating small conversations. She would occasionally stand by y/n’s side during public engagements, offering quiet, steady support. And she began leaving little notes for y/n—short, thoughtful messages that appeared in unexpected places:
“You did well today.”
“Your sketch was beautiful.”
“The garden looks brighter with you in it.”
y/n found herself collecting these notes, tucking them away in a small box in her chambers. She told herself it was out of habit, not sentimentality.
One evening, y/n was in the library, browsing through the shelves. She reached for a book just as another hand brushed against hers.
She looked up to find Jimin standing beside her.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Jimin said, stepping back slightly.
“You didn’t,” y/n replied, her tone even. She pulled the book from the shelf and held it to her chest. “Did you need something?”
Jimin hesitated, her eyes scanning y/n’s face. “I… just wanted to talk.”
y/n raised an eyebrow. “About what?”
“About us,” Jimin said, her voice steady but quiet.
y/n froze, her fingers tightening on the book. “There’s nothing to talk about. We both know what this is—a marriage of convenience, nothing more.”
Jimin flinched at the words but didn’t back down. “It doesn’t have to be.”
y/n’s heart skipped a beat, but she forced a bitter laugh. “And now you care? After weeks of making me feel like a stranger in my own marriage?”
Jimin’s expression crumbled slightly. “I was wrong. I see that now. But I’m trying, y/n. Can’t you see that?”
y/n shook her head, stepping back. “Trying isn’t enough, Jimin. Not anymore.”
She turned and left the library, leaving Jimin standing there, her outstretched hand falling to her side.
Later that night, y/n sat by her window, the book unopened in her lap. She stared at the small box of notes on her desk, her chest tight.
She wanted to believe Jimin. She wanted to forgive her, to let herself hope again. But the hurt was still too fresh.
On the other side of the palace, Jimin sat alone in her quarters, replaying y/n’s words over and over in her mind.
She clenched her fists, a rare flicker of vulnerability crossing her face. “I’ll prove it to you, my princess,” she whispered to herself.
-----
The morning air was crisp as y/n strolled through the palace gardens, her mind preoccupied. She paused by the fountain, the soft sound of water soothing her restless thoughts.
“Good morning.”
y/n turned to find Jimin standing a few steps away, holding something behind her back.
“Good morning,” the princess replied cautiously.
Without a word, Jimin stepped closer and revealed a small, neatly wrapped bundle. y/n’s brow furrowed as she took it. “What’s this?”
“Open it,” Jimin said simply.
Inside was a sketchbook, the cover embossed with intricate floral patterns. y/n’s breath hitched.
“I noticed your old one was nearly full,” Jimin explained, her voice quiet but steady. “I thought you might need a new one.”
y/n stared at the gift, her emotions warring within her. “You’ve been watching me that closely?”
Jimin’s cheeks flushed slightly, but she nodded. “I always have.”
For a moment, y/n didn’t know what to say. Finally, she managed, “Thank you. It’s… thoughtful.”
Jimin offered a small smile. “You’re welcome.”
Later that evening, y/n was in her chambers, flipping through the pages of her old sketchbook. She traced her fingers over a half-finished drawing of the palace gardens, a memory of a quiet morning spent in solitude.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
“Come in,” she called.
To her surprise, Jimin entered, carrying two steaming cups of tea.
“I thought you might want some company,” Jimin said, her voice tentative.
y/n blinked, her defenses faltering. “You didn’t have to—”
“I wanted to,” Jimin interrupted, setting the cups down on the small table by the fireplace.
For a moment, they sat in silence, the warmth of the tea and the crackling fire filling the room.
“You keep trying so hard,” y/n finally said, her voice soft. “Why?”
Jimin stared into her cup, choosing her words carefully. “Because I care. And because I know I’ve hurt you.”
y/n’s heart ached at the raw honesty in Jimin’s voice. She wanted to believe her, to trust that this wasn’t just another fleeting attempt to make amends.
The next day, y/n found herself wandering back to the library, her new sketchbook in hand. She settled by the large window overlooking the gardens, the light perfect for drawing.
She didn’t notice Jimin enter until she felt a presence beside her.
“May I sit?” Jimin asked.
The princess hesitated before nodding.
For the next hour, they sat in companionable silence. y/n sketched while Jimin read, the unspoken tension between them slowly easing.
As y/n finished a drawing of a rose, she glanced at Jimin out of the corner of her eye. The older girl seemed so calm, so focused, and yet there was a softness in her expression that the younger girl hadn’t seen before.
“Jimin,” y/n said softly.
Jimin looked up, her dark eyes meeting y/n’s.
“Thank you,” y/n said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jimin didn’t ask what for. She simply nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
-----
The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the palace gardens. y/n found herself there again, this time with her sketchbook open on her lap. The page was blank, though—her thoughts too restless to focus.
She heard the familiar sound of boots crunching on the gravel and didn’t need to look up to know who it was.
Jimin approached, a hesitant smile on her face. “You’re here again.”
y/n shrugged, her voice softer than usual. “The garden’s quiet. Helps me think.”
Jimin stood there for a moment before taking a seat on the bench beside her, careful to leave just enough space to not crowd her.
y/n let the silence linger, but the weight of the past weeks pressed heavily on her chest. Finally, she spoke. “Why did it take you so long?”
Jimin blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”
“To see me,” y/n clarified, her voice trembling slightly. “To see us. You’ve been so cold, so distant, and I—” She broke off, shaking her head. “Never mind.”
“No,” Jimin said quickly, leaning forward. “Please. Go on.”
y/n hesitated, her walls wavering, before she let out a shaky breath. “I gave you everything, Jimin. I tried so hard to make this work, to build something out of this arrangement. And you…” She trailed off, her voice breaking.
Jimin’s chest tightened as she watched y/n fight back tears. “I know,” she said quietly. “I know I hurt you. I was scared, y/n. Scared of losing myself in something I didn’t choose.”
y/n looked at her, her eyes searching Jimin’s face. “And now?”
Jimin held her gaze, her voice steady. “Now I know that losing you would be worse.”
The words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered. y/n felt her heart skip, the weight of her defenses finally crumbling.
Jimin reached out hesitantly, her hand brushing against y/n’s. When the princess didn’t pull away, Jimin gently took her hand, lacing their fingers together.
“I’m sorry,” Jimin said, her voice barely above a whisper. “For everything. For being too proud, too stubborn to see what was right in front of me.”
y/n’s lips trembled as she whispered back, “You really hurt me.”
“I know,” Jimin said, her grip tightening slightly. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me.”
For the first time in what felt like forever, the princess let herself smile—a small, tentative smile, but one filled with hope.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she teased lightly, her voice still thick with emotion.
Jimin’s lips quirked into the faintest of smiles. “This one, I intend to keep.”
That night, for the first time since their marriage, y/n didn’t retreat to her chambers alone. Instead, she found herself sitting with Jimin in the drawing room, sharing stories and laughter late into the night.
The tension that had once defined their relationship was replaced by something new—something fragile but undeniably real.
As y/n watched Jimin laugh at one of her jokes, she felt her heart swell. Maybe, just maybe, they could build something beautiful together after all.
-----
It started slowly.
y/n and Jimin made an unspoken agreement to focus on friendship. They spent time together—not out of obligation, but because they genuinely enjoyed each other’s company.
At first, it was small things: sharing meals, taking walks in the gardens, or sitting by the fire late at night talking about everything and nothing. y/n’s bright personality began to coax more smiles out of Jimin, and Jimin’s quiet attentiveness made the princess feel seen in a way she hadn’t expected.
One afternoon, Jimin caught the princess humming to herself while sketching under the shade of a large oak tree. The sound was soft, almost imperceptible, but it made Jimin pause in her tracks.
“You sing too?” Jimin asked, startling y/n.
The princess looked up, her cheeks pink. “Only when no one’s listening.”
Jimin smirked as she took a seat beside her. “Too late for that.”
y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “Don’t expect a performance anytime soon.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Jimin teased, her tone playful.
They fell into easy conversation after that, laughter punctuating their words. Jimin found herself watching y/n closely, her heart tugging unexpectedly at the way the sunlight caught in her hair and the way her laughter sounded like music.
It wasn’t long before y/n began noticing Jimin in a different light as well. One evening, as they sparred together in the palace training grounds—a habit Jimin insisted on teaching y/n for self-defense—the princess caught herself staring.
Jimin’s movements were fluid and precise, her focus unshakable. When she turned to y/n, breathless and flushed, the princess felt her heart skip a beat.
“You’re distracted,” Jimin said, raising an eyebrow.
y/n blinked, shaking herself out of her daze. “Just… admiring your technique.”
Jimin smirked, clearly amused but choosing not to push further. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”
y/n tried her best, but her thoughts lingered long after the session ended.
One night, they sat together in the library, the soft glow of the fireplace casting warm shadows around the room. y/n had fallen asleep against Jimin’s shoulder, her sketchbook resting on her lap.
Jimin stayed perfectly still, not wanting to disturb her. She looked down at y/n’s peaceful expression, her heart swelling with an unfamiliar warmth.
Without thinking, Jimin gently brushed a strand of hair from y/n’s face. The touch lingered, and for the first time, Jimin allowed herself to admit what she’d been feeling for weeks now.
She was falling in love with her princess.
The princess, meanwhile, was experiencing her own epiphany. Every small gesture from Jimin—her thoughtfulness, her subtle humor, her quiet strength—made y/n’s heart ache in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating.
One morning, as they walked through the palace gardens, y/n blurted out, “Do you ever think about what this could’ve been if we weren’t forced into it?”
Jimin stopped in her tracks, her expression unreadable. “What do you mean?”
y/n turned to her, her voice quieter now. “I mean… if we’d met under different circumstances. Do you think we still would’ve found our way to each other?”
Jimin’s gaze softened, her heart pounding in her chest. “I think,” she said carefully, “that I would’ve been drawn to you no matter the circumstances.”
y/n’s breath hitched, her eyes searching Jimin’s for any hint of hesitation. There was none.
The moment hung between them, heavy with unspoken emotion.
Finally, y/n took a step closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “Jimin…”
Jimin didn’t wait for her to finish. She leaned down, her lips brushing against y/n’s in the gentlest of kisses.
It was tentative at first, a question rather than an answer. But when y/n’s hand came up to rest against Jimin’s cheek, the kiss deepened, their hearts aligning in a way neither of them had expected.
When they finally pulled apart, y/n’s smile was brighter than the sun. “So much for just being friends,” she teased softly.
Jimin chuckled, her own smile rare but genuine. “I think we’ve always been more than that.”
The days after their kiss felt like the calm after a storm—quiet but charged with the promise of something new. y/n and Jimin found themselves navigating this shift in their relationship with cautious excitement, their once-tense dynamic now replaced by something tender and unspoken.
One evening, as they stood side by side in the grand ballroom during a royal banquet, y/n caught Jimin sneaking glances at her.
“Something on your mind, Lady Yu?” y/n teased softly, her voice low enough to not draw attention.
Jimin smirked, leaning in just enough for her words to be heard. “Just admiring my princess.”
y/n’s cheeks flushed, but she masked it with a bright smile as she turned to greet a nobleman approaching them.
Their newfound closeness didn’t go unnoticed by the king and queen. Liz, of course, had been quick to pick up on it, but she kept her observations to herself—though not without an occasional knowing smile aimed at her younger sister.
Later that night, after the banquet had ended, Jimin and y/n retreated to the palace gardens. The moon was high, its silver light casting a serene glow over the flowers.
y/n sat on the edge of the fountain, her hands tracing patterns on the surface of the water. Jimin stood nearby, her arms crossed as she watched y/n with quiet admiration.
“Do you think we can really make this work?” y/n asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
Jimin stepped closer, her voice firm. “I know we can.”
y/n looked up at her, her expression vulnerable. “What if it’s not enough? What if people expect more from us than we can give?”
Jimin knelt before her, taking y/n’s hands in her own. “Let them expect what they want. We’ll figure it out together—our way.”
y/n smiled, her heart swelling with a mixture of hope and love. “You always know what to say.”
Jimin chuckled. “Not always. But when it comes to you, I’ll keep trying until I get it right.”
-----
Their relationship wasn’t perfect—there were still challenges ahead, expectations to navigate, and their own fears to confront. But for the first time since their marriage, y/n and Jimin felt like they were truly partners.
As they walked back to their chambers that night, their hands brushing but not quite holding, y/n glanced at Jimin and said, “You know, this might actually work.”
Jimin smiled, her voice full of quiet determination. “It already is.”
They reached the threshold of their shared quarters, pausing for a moment before stepping inside. y/n turned to Jimin, her gaze soft but unwavering. “Goodnight, Jimin.”
Jimin leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to y/n’s forehead. “Goodnight, my princess.”
As the door closed behind them, both women felt a sense of peace they hadn’t known before—a peace that came from knowing they were no longer facing the world alone.
The palace bustled with life as y/n and Jimin prepared to host their first event as a couple—a celebration of unity that symbolized not only their marriage but the bond they had worked so hard to build.
y/n stood by Jimin’s side, her smile radiant, her heart full. As they greeted guests together, their fingers brushed ever so slightly—a silent promise of everything they had yet to face and everything they would face together.
Because in the end, their story wasn’t about an arranged marriage or a forced partnership. It was about finding love in the most unexpected of places—and choosing each other every step of the way.
_____________________
Bonus:
The royal dining hall was quiet, with just the royal family gathered for breakfast. y/n sat next to Jimin, their usual spots now seemingly closer than before. Liz, ever the keen observer, was already smirking as she watched the subtle glances between her sister and the stoic guard.
“So,” Liz began, her voice carrying an unmistakable teasing edge, “do you two hold hands under the table now, or are we still keeping things proper?”
y/n nearly choked on her tea, while Jimin’s face remained composed, though the slight tightening of her jaw gave her away.
“Liz!” y/n hissed, glaring at her sister.
The king chuckled, folding his napkin neatly. “Careful, Elizabeth. Tease too much, and y/n might decide to ban you from breakfast altogether.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, Father,” Liz replied innocently, though her grin betrayed her intentions. “It’s just so fascinating, watching my dear little sister transform into a blushing maiden every time Jimin so much as looks her way.”
y/n’s cheeks turned crimson, and she shot her sister a deadly glare. “I do not blush!”
Jimin, ever the diplomat, cleared her throat. “Princess Liz, perhaps your attention would be better spent elsewhere?”
Liz raised an eyebrow, clearly delighted that she’d managed to draw Jimin into the exchange. “Oh, I’m plenty entertained right here, thank you.” She leaned back in her chair, resting her chin on her hand. “You know, I had a feeling about the two of you. The ‘I’d rather die than smile’ Jimin and the ‘sunshine incarnate’ y/n? It’s like something out of a romantic ballad.”
The queen, who had been quietly sipping her tea, finally spoke up, her tone light. “Elizabeth, dear, leave them be. They’re navigating enough without your meddling.”
y/n shot her mother a grateful look, but Liz wasn’t done.
“Fine, fine,” Liz said, raising her hands in mock surrender. “But Jimin, just so you know—if you ever hurt her, you’ll have to deal with me.”
Jimin straightened in her chair, meeting Liz’s gaze with unwavering seriousness. “I would never hurt my princess.”
The sincerity in Jimin’s voice silenced Liz for a moment, and y/n felt her heart swell.
Liz finally broke into a warm smile, leaning forward. “Good answer. You’ll do just fine, Lady Yu.”
The king and queen exchanged amused glances as Liz finally moved on to her breakfast, leaving y/n and Jimin to share a quiet, meaningful look.
Under the table, y/n’s hand brushed against Jimin’s, a small but bold gesture. Jimin didn’t pull away.
____________________
A/N: I never expected this to be so long, but oh well! Hope you guys enjoy it!
Author: In your last request it came to my mind to do something like Chaewon's memoirs as a leader or from Chaewon's point of view and how the members tire her out or the fun moments and responsibilities of the leader and many of the members' situations with her. Can you add y/n as a sixth member?😇
It took me forever and a day, but here we go!
Herrscher of Insanity @herrscherofinsanity - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
