TELL ME WE WEREN'T JUST FRIENDS giselle x fem!reader
bsf!giselle who likes the blur the line between friendship and something more
content: fem!reader, headcannons, homoerotic friendship, some hc's can be seen as a little bit toxic, she's just possessive okay, roommates, reader throws a pillow at giselle (but in a light-hearted way), jealousy, gigi is very touchy, a little bit suggestive if you squint, a joke about ningning being your third (too ningselle pilled i fear), the rest of aespa make like a two sec cameo, sana from twice mentioned too, giselle referred to as gigi at times
word count: 1.4k note: if you want a homoerotic friendship just hmu 🤞
୨ৎ bsf!giselle who sends you the most romantic videos with a message that reads 'us' underneath
୨ৎ bsf!giselle who takes those 'initials that are made for each other' videos very seriously and sends you them whenever yours are paired up
୨ৎ bsf!giselle who calls you more pet names than any partner you've ever dated has (baby, sweetheart, darling, cutie)
୨ৎ bsf!giselle who regularly walks into the bathroom when you're showering because "we're best friends, it's chill."
୨ৎ bsf!giselle who makes sure to leave the door unlocked when she's showering in the hopes that you'll walk in
୨ৎ bsf!giselle who gets irrationality upset whenever you go on dates with somebody.
"gigi, i'm home!" you call out, stepping through your apartment door and hanging up your coat. you receive no response, but just choke it up to your best friend playing music in her headphones too loud.
you find giselle in the kitchen, cooking a meal for one, which is fair considering your date just treated you to dinner......and then some.
the only sign of her acknowledgement the tenseing of her shoulders and the way her grip tightens on her spoon when she glances up and sees you standing in the doorway. or rather, sees the smudged lipstick mark on your neck you failed to completely rub off.
"gigi?" you try again. there's nothing obstructing her hearing — her headphones charging in the living room and her phone still on her bed — so she's just....choosing to ignore you?
an awkward silence, then, once she's done cooking, a process which you can tell she was trying to do as quickly as possible, she carries her food — her comfort meal, you faintly note — to her room and slams the door shut without a word.
୨ৎ bsf!giselle who is so touchy and affectionate that most people assume you're dating.
"so, how long have you been together?" an acquaintance asks, motioning to giselle's hand draped around your waist, her thumb softly rubbing your hip.
"oh we're not—" you start, at the same time giselle says, "about two years now."
the people you're meeting look a little confused, but if anyone has any suspicions, no one says anything, instead continuing to ask questions about your relationship, to which giselle answers with such an ease it makes you wonder if she's thought about it before.
afterwards, you ask her about it. "so what was that about?"
"what? it was funny," giselle just shrugs. "you looked so cute, trying to come up with answers to their questions."
"you put me on the spot! and anyways, you answered everything like a pro, i don't know how you're so quick on your feet."
"it's not like it's that hard to put our relationship into a romantic context," she counters, "you just got all flustered and blanked."
"huh, i guess it's not." you think on the late nights together, the shared looks, how in tune you are with each other, how touchy. "but still, you took me off guard. i probably looked like a fool."
giselle shakes her head, "you looked beautiful.....and maybe extremely awkward, yeah, but still beautiful."
you whip your head around in mock outrage, trying and failing to hide the grin spreading across your lips, "gigi!"
"what!? i called you beautiful, focus on that!"
୨ৎ bsf!giselle who glares at anyone who tries to make a move on you
୨ৎ bsf!giselle who constantly 'jokes' about making out with you
୨ৎ bsf!giselle who, in the summer, wears the shortest possible clothes around you, partly because of the heat but mostly because she loves the way it makes you flustered
"it's so hot in here," giselle groans, pulling her t-shirt off over her head. you can't say you disagree with her, the summer air making the room feel almost claustrophobic, but you haven't stripped off yet, since you're wearing nothing underneath your shirt. not that giselle would mind, a traitorous part of your mind whispers.
you open your mouth, then close it and swallow, taking her all in: the toned outline of her abs — since when did she have abs? — the faint beads of sweat on her skin, the stick-n-poke tattoo on her hip you drunkenly did one night, the lacy pink bra, her sharp collarbones, her —
she notices you staring, "what? it's nothing you haven't seen before."
that snaps you out of it, protesting immediately, "that was an accident! and it was your fault, you didn't lock the door! i had my headphones on, how was i supposed to hear you showering?"
"or maybe....you walked in on purpose?" she smirks. "that must be why you're getting so heated, hmm?"
you throw a pillow at her head in response, unable to come up with a verbal reply.
୨ৎ bsf!giselle who makes you a personalised playlist and puts the most romantic and sexual songs she can find on it
୨ৎ bsf!giselle who gets jealous when you mention the other friends you have
"oh, me and sana are going shopping tomorrow," you casually mention over dinner.
giselle pauses, her pasta abandoned on her fork, "sana? i could've come with you, you know? you didn't need to ask her"
you shrug, "well, it was her idea. there's a new store she wanted to check out, but you can come too, if you wanna? i doubt she'd mind."
"nah, i'm good," giselle waves you off, but the tension in her shoulders tells you she's anything but.
୨ৎ bsf!giselle who regularly hosts sleepovers in her room because 'sleeping together is more fun'
୨ৎ bsf!giselle who always feeds you the first bite of her food
୨ৎ bsf!giselle who jokingly calls you her girlfriend/wife
୨ৎ bsf!giselle who always keeps you close at the club, for your safety but also because she wants to feel you dance against her
୨ৎ bsf!giselle who caresses your thigh under the blanket during move night
୨ৎ bsf!giselle who stands behind you, playing with your bra strap while you're waiting in line (that one winselle moment....ik what you are)
୨ৎ bsf!giselle who always comments the most outrageous things on your posts
user notaeri: it's purring your name 😼
⤷ user y/nthings (replying to notaeri): but you have a dog??
⤷ user notaeri (replying to y/nthings): exactly
⤷ user minjeongisbored (replying to notaeri): seriously why are you two like this?
୨ৎ bsf!giselle who posts suggestive pictures in the hopes you'll see them
user y/nthings: never have i ever wanted to be a donut so badly
⤷ user notaeri (replying to y/nthings): come over and i'll make you a glazed one bby 💋
⤷ user minjeongisbored (replying to notaeri): pls get a room 😐
⤷ user notyizho (replying to minjeongisbored): nah i'm enjoying this 🥵
⤷ user yu_jimin (replying to notyizho): just say you wanna be their third...it's okay
୨ৎ bsf!giselle who is much more intimate with you than your other friends are, leading you to question her about it.
"gigi, do you think we're too close?" you ask, breaking the silence of the night.
the timing of the question is almost comical, considering you're both lying in bed together, your leg hooked over her hip and your head settled on her chest, rubbing her waist under her shirt. meanwhile, giselle traces little circles on the small of your back with one hand, her other entwined with yours, so close you can feel her breathing.
"you wanna move?" she asks. more often than not, you find yourselves sleeping in this position or something like it, so the closeness of your bodies have never really been called into question.
"no like, just in general. i would never do this with my other friends," you're quick to clarify, not wanting her to pull away.
"thank god," giselle mumbles under her breath, grip tightening just a little, too quiet to her over the constant whirr of the air conditioning.
"huh? i didn't catch that." you lift your head up slightly so you can see her face, illuminated by the moonlight sneaking in through the curtains.
"don't worry about it." she shakes her head. "but no, i don't think we're too close. i think what we have — friendship, something more, whatever you wanna call it — is perfect."
"you're not like this with your other friends, are you?" is that insecurity giselle hears in your voice, or something else?
"of course not." she presses a soft kiss on the top of your head, so faint you might as well be dreaming. "only you."
Note: I have joined the meta. Can't believe I'm starting my first fic after 2k with a Rina fic lol.
Ok, but seriously, special shoutout to @azelfty for the plot suggestion (it was so good that I have to write it), and @valentinedrifter for beta reading <3
And also listen to Farewell my First by TripleS too.
tw: melodrama.
(11.7k words)
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re experiencing some turbulence. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts.”
Just a slow, exhausted exhale through your nose as the plane shudders again and your headache pulses in protest.
Of course.
Fifteen hours in economy. Middle seat. Paid with possibly all your savings and more. Knees wedged between a metal tray table and the unforgiving spin of the seat in front of you. The guy on your left has annexed half your armrest, while the woman on your right snores like she is in her own place an hour into the flight (and also slowly leaning into your shoulder ever since.)
You consider just lying on the walkway instead, because you'd have legroom there.
The seat cushion is so thin that you swear you can feel the frame underneath, and by then your lower back has given up on fighting back for comfort. Two rows up ahead, the annoying overhead light keeps on flickering at the peripheral of your tired eyes, which apparently is a signal for the plane to jolt again.
Sigh.
Why did you pick Korea again? There were easier places to disappear to, like Thailand or Vietnam with all the foods to eat, cultures to see, and places with history that is not your own.
Well, you clearly didn't think that far when booking the ticket.
Anyway, another dip seems like enough cue for the fasten seatbelt sign to chime (no one is standing anyway.), and you are already strapped in all directions. Good thing your hand can still reach down to your pocket for the phone. Of course, no signal — just you and the sweet ass fifteen hours of recycled air.
So the camera roll it is.
You thumb scrolls lazily — dinner you had last night, a building façade that you saved to show to your boss later, a random rock layout in a garden, the pigeon chilling on your window sill.
And then there’s Jimin.
You stop at a particular old photo of her back in 2010 — short hair, bare face, sitting cross-legged on your apartment floor, holding your mirrorless camera that you kept telling her to not touch it (it cost you 8 months' worth of allowance saving.) The conversation still lingers in your head, with how whiny that tomboy was.
"I don't get it," she squints through the viewfinder. "Why does it look worse when I touch it?"
"Because you're touching it."
"I have to touch it." "Not like that what the fuck."
You scroll past them now, somehow never delete them.
The plane jolts again, harder this time. The sleeping woman's head knocks against you, but your quick reflex tilt your shoulder and lift her head up so that she falls back upright without waking.
Apparently, that was amusing enough for you to let out a small chuckle — the same dry sound you made in the park where Jimin screamed like a banshee when learning to ride a bike.
Oh right, here's the video: the park near your high school that day was busier than you expected. Students draped across the grass with textbooks they definitely weren’t reading, couples sharing headphones, a few overachievers holding impromptu study circles, and someone near the food stall insisting their guitar cover of “California Gurls” would change lives.
And then there was you adjusting the rental bike seat, and a certain nervous Jimin stood beside you quivering — helmet strapped tight, hands holding the camera with such pseudo-confidence, and her brows furrowed. She may be pretending to be an athlete, but in reality, she just needed to pedal twenty metres.
“Alright,” you said, patting the seat. “Rule one: don’t panic. Rule two: stay balance. Rule three—”
“Don’t panic again?” she interrupted, lips twitching.
You gave her a flat look. “No. Rule three is don’t make me look stupid in public.”
“…Not ‘be stupid’ but ‘not make you stupid’?”
"Yes, also why are you holding the camera?"
"For you to record my success."
"Bitch, you haven't even moved." "Confidence is key."
“No,” you corrected. “Balance is key. Rule 2. Confidence is what you’ll lose in about ten seconds.”
"Sure right. I got this, easy!"
She did not.
“YAAHHHHHHHHHH—!”
Second attempt: the camera is propped on a bench nearby that (miraculously) got you two in sight. You jogged beside her and hand gripped the back of the seat. She pedalled this time with such wobble and instability. Her breathing is no better — out of context, people will think she's on the last leg of the triathlon. For three seconds, her stance was fine…until she steered directly into a bush.
The video ends here, and you don't remember much of what happened afterwards. It’s been seven years ever since you left (Jeesus, fucking christ. It’s 2017 now.), but you don't delve further to it and lock your phone.
Sigh. Bundang. Korea. Hopefully not meeting Jimin right now, and hopefully the visit will be simple.
You close your eyes again as the plane rattles once more.
-
The headache still continues, and it doesn't go away when you spot Jimin from afar before she spots you. (Aw shuck.)
One thing you remember about Yoo Jimin is that she likes to show off. Because look at that girl leaning against a pillar near Arrivals with her cap low, mask pulled down under her chin, and scrolling through her phone. Oh, and there’s a black SUV parked illegally not too far from the curb. Hazard lights blinking too. Mhm. She is definitely showing off that new car, for sure.
Ok so, your first thought is: how the fuck she knows you're coming today? You told virtually no one.
And then your second thought comes immediately: ah, Mom and Dad.
Yeah, your family and hers have always been like that since moving to the neighbourhood — occasional overlapping dinners, the mothers going groceries together, the fathers bonding over oil leaks and DIY sink repairs, and gossip bounds to pass around. This time? No different — they told her, and she volunteers to pick you up. Well, at least it's better than grabbing Uber with a random driver. No point complaining then, you just adjust the strap of your backpack, hand grabbing the suitcase, and walking towards her.
She looks up.
And her face lights up like those episodes of Shin-chan she never outgrew. She pushes off the pillar and waves both arms above her head, greeting you as if you just found a solution for homelessness (A big problem to solve as a future architect).
And you resist the urge to turn sideways, preparing to sleep on the street instead. Ah shit that sounds bad, but to refute, you don't hate her — she's been your best friend since the age you both discovered that concrete hurts when you fall. (on the head, because Jimin,)
But that — ugh, fucking hell — is exactly why she's the last person you really want to see right now.
Of all the same-age friends you know, Jimin's the only one who stayed up with you on video calls, listening to you when you two were studying for the CSAT. The one who also has a high chance of accepting the scholarship, yet she said "You'll obviously get it." The one who proudly told anyone who would listen that you were pursuing a top-tier PhD overseas. At a university she once admitted she wished she could attend.
And now…Sigh. Maybe not yet. You're too tired for that conversation.
You drag your suitcase towards her, and up close, and she looks…different. Well, longer hair, for one, but more than that, time actually did its job.
The town used to call her the wild child who unapologetically dragged you into the mud, who climbed trees in oversized shorts and punched your arm for no reason whenever you two sat on a bench in front of the ice cream shop. Yeah, all those memories mean jack shit when looking at her right now — fitted jeans, cropped shirt, and baggy jacket, straight posture like a model, long hair falling down neatly. (You look around to make sure there aren't any idol paparazzi around.)
Speaking of the melon in the room, yeah of course you notice. Not that hard when strangers glance at her twice, and how her curve fills out clothes that makes you forget how she once ate dirt just for a dare.
"What?" Ah shit, she catches you looking. "I look good, yeah?"
"…sure."
"C'mon, be more enthusiastic for me! I've been working out."
"I can tell."
She beams brightly upon hearing the exact validation she was fishing for. "Cool, right? Pilate and good styling. Airport fashion is very important."
"Bitch, last time we called, you were in a public park looking like a bozo."
"Whatever." She slaps your shoulder playfully before grabbing your suitcase handle from you. "You look more homeless now than I am."
You glance down at the hoodie you have been wearing since moving aboard, and the-true-definition-of-comfy trackpants. "I flew here for 15 hours. Almost dying in Economy."
"…Skill issue." "Fuck you."
(You almost smile. Almost.)
She yaps the entire walk to the parking lot — the everlasting traffic, the constant honk when she drives at 20km/h when looking for parking space, how she parallel parked perfectly on the first try, and whatever rambling nonsense Jimin has on the back of her seat. It's easier to let her voice wash over you like a radio on a Sunday morning.
In the car, she adjusts the rearview mirror slightly, presumedly to check herself out. A subtle hair flip and a quick lip gloss touch-up.
"You're staring, sleepyhead." Oh, oops. Must've subconsciously staring at her.
"I'm not." "You are."
"Just thinking how much you've changed." "For the better?"
"…" You pinched your brows.
-
The city lights blur past the window as the car merges to the highway, and the night air outside Incheon is colder than you expected. Or maybe you're just tired enough to feel every little annoying detail — the chill against the glass, growl of the engine, reflection of the lights glares, and the weight of what's gnawing at you inside sitting heavily in your heart.
But…still awake enough to register the fact that Yoo Jimin is driving with one hand on the wheel (like a self-proclaimed cool adult she has always wanted), the other tapping lighting against her thigh to some song on the radio. It's a far cry from the same girl a few years back cowering in her room and chewing her lip raw over a driving test the next morning.
“How’s living abroad like?”
“Uh…” Your eyes are still closed. “It feels like it takes all of my life saving just to survive for a week.”
“Oh come on…that PhD of yours can afford you some fine things in life, amirite?”
“...Sure.” And you sink down further to your seat. “You can say that.”
"Ok then, show off. How long are you gonna be here?"
"Seven days."
"That's short, what the heck?" Her voice drops slightly.
"It's enough for a rest."
"Hell the fuck it is!" Jimin yelps. "You don't have enough time to go to Seoul for a small trip! Checking out the cute coffee shops in the morning and the fun bars at night! You're missing out!"
Enjoying Korea is the last thing you think you deserve to have, but let’s not say it out loud. Instead: "Peace and quiet is enough for me, really."
She glances at you, studying your expression for a moment. And then she slowly nods and looks back at the road.
"Well lucky for you, I'm also free for 7 days."
You hum. "Why? What are you up to? Did your firm give you a vacation?”
“Sorta? I do use my PTO for a few days too. Looks like my work was significant enough for my boss to let me chill.”
“Well that’s nice. How are you going to spend them?”
"Well, I gotta hang out with my tired best friend before I get married, of course."
“Ah sure sure…wai—”
It does take you a few seconds to register, and when you do, you have never gotten up upright than you ever have in your life. "The fuck what now?" And that seems to be the reaction she wants from you. (Clearly satisfied, she is.)
"Yeah, I am getting married."
…Right, so where is the punchline?
"And I'm being legit."
Ok, there isn't one. Damn. Your brain cycles through possibilities as if you're eligible to review the unfortunate guys who get charmed by her. Which poor idiot signed up for that without knowing the boogers she—
Anyway, you lean back to your seat. "Ok then."
"That's it?" "The fuck you want me to say?"
"I don't know, be happy for me?" "Ok fine, congrats."
"That's so dry." "Bitch, you announced it like a Friday morning."
She narrows her eyes. "Bitch, you sat up like someone zapped you."
"It's a reflex." "Yeah, reflex. Sure."
"You say insane things all the time. My body reacts before my brain does."
She lets out a loud laugh. "You're so mean!"
You look out to the window, ignoring the small smile at the corner of your lips, and the churning stomach that paradoxically feels like it's tied in knots.
"Do I know this guy? Also, is he fine with you hanging out with me like this?"
"What?” She teases. "Are you curious?"
"Concerned."
"For him?" "Damn right. Now answer the question."
And Jimin laughs again. Gosh, this is going to happen for the rest of the trip, isn't it?
-
Apparently yes.
And it starts with the next day when she unapologetically drags you out of the couch you crashed out of exhaustion. So much for getting used to jet lag. Also, couldn't she wake you up with something else rather than a pillow whacking to your face?
"Wake the fuck up, bestie!"
You groan into the couch cushion. The light bleeds in through the half-open blinds and cuts across the living room in pale strips. Your phone has been running off with alarms that you set it up every 15 minutes out of habit — years of early classes, work shifts, and other things.
None of them compare to Jimin.
"Wake upppppp!"
You begrudgingly peel one eye open (not without voicing out your disdain with a groan) and see Jimin hovering above you. A far cry from the show off girl last night, her hair is messy, wearing the oversized sport uniform T-shirt slipping off one shoulder that clearly has been overworn (she stole this shirt from you one time she forgot to bring it.)
"Let's go hang out today!"
"Ugh…what time is it…?"
"It's morning time!" "One, that is a terrible pun. And two, that is not a time."
She nudges your knee with her foot. “Get up.”
“Is this how you wake him up too?” “No, just you.”
You drag a hand down your face, and finally feel the ache in your neck from sleeping on her couch. The blanket she forced on you last night is twisted around your waist. At least the caveat is that her apartment does smell nice — a faint of fabric softener and the aroma of something orange(?) that she sprays.
Maybe it is a good thing that she refuses to let you book a motel. Also, your parents are out of town, so staying at their place alone would’ve been… too quiet. ("You don't have a space." “You can sleep on the couch.” “It’s better than a motel, I paid top money for this couch”) Ugh, her reasoning is still scary and effective as before.
You check your phone. She grins too brightly for 8 a.m.
"Ok, ok, fine." You sigh. "Where are we going?"
-
Yeah, if you still have your free will to run (and if she wasn't your best friend), you definitely would've gone somewhere else but Yuldong Park.
(Why. On Saturday. Ugh.)
Ok, the park does (mostly) nothing wrong — it still looks the same as years ago, with the wide blue open sky and the lake that reflects it, the paved walking paths under the luscious and green canopy where people are walking. Some are couples holding hands, some walking with dogs, and kids running around without a care. It’s a welcome noise for sure, a far cry from living alone in your modest apartment where the loudest thing most nights was the hum of your refrigerator and your own thoughts.
The thing the park does wrong, however, is that stupid motherfucking bungee tower that stands there like an evil's lair.
Your stomach squeezes inwards more and more as Jimin parks. Unlike you, who roll off the chair like a slug, she hops out like she's arriving at Lotte Park.
"Stop being a pussy and come on!" Jimin laughs.
It's actually really nice and sunny, but you feel hyper fixated to the cold air that sting your nose, to the wind brushing against your ears, and the very audible creak when someone jumps that followed by the snaps and recoils of the elastic cord (you're probably just being a bitch, but it is that scary!)
"I am not being a pussy." Yep, totally. You're wearing long sleeves and trackpants.
"You definitely were back then." She reminds you now. "You were literally shaking."
"I did not."
"You were praying."
"I don't pray." "You did that day."
You glare at her.
She’s wearing fitted black leggings and a cropped athletic jacket today. Her hair tied high, and sunglasses resting on top of her head. She looks like she was born for this. A little reminder again for those at the back — you're wearing long sleeves and trackpants. Good to know that air resistance will (maybe) do its job.
She looks genuinely happy. “C’mon! Smile, dummy. It’s our hang out time!” Because you’re here.
Truthfully…you tell yourself you don’t deserve to smile.
Not right now.
You shouldn’t be here pretending everything is fine. Hell, you shouldn’t be fleeing back to Korea right now. You shouldn’t get to stand under a blue sky like nothing cracked inside you months ago, when you hand in your drop out forms.
But she keeps on tugging your sleeve with her wide grin. “Let’s go!” And you couldn’t help but momentarily forget the demons in your head.
Because you just found your impending doom, where the climb up stairs feels endless. Each metal step clangs under your weight. The higher you go, the louder the wind gets, the canopy becomes a blanket of green, and the lake shrinks beneath you. Only halfway up, and your palms are pooling with sweat. Holy shit, yeah, maybe this is your punishment.
"Ya, are you okay?"
See, that should've been your cue to belt out at her and demand to just go back down to the ground. You could admit that you don’t feel steady in more ways than one. But a part of you screams: Things in life have already gone wrong. What else can be worse than that?
"No, I'm fine. Let's…let’s just do it."
You're totally not fine when you finally reach the platform. The open air hits you fully. Nothing between you and the drop but a staff member, the railings and trust issues.
"Holy—" Jimin walks straight to the edge and leans over casually. "It's higher than I remember."
"Don't fucking lean, damn it."
"You still scared?" "Bitch, of course!"
You need a distraction, quick! Uh…ok, the I-beam is a good choice of material for a non-habitable structure like this tower. At least it won't fall over with adequate support. What else..oh, painting it blue is pretty nice — hopefully it was painted with fire-resistant and rust-resistant coating. And uhh…oh, the wind is a bit nicer now, with how it presses her jacket against her body, and the fitted fabric does absolutely nothing to minimise her well-endowed shape.
…ok, maybe too much distraction. "…You, of all people, should not jump."
"Eh? Why?" "It's inappropriate."
"Huh? How?"
"You're…" you gesture vaguely at her chest. "…overqualified for high-impact sports."
A crow caw from afar. And her eyebrows lift.
"Did living aboard make you a perv?" "No! I'm just— don't think that way, I'm being concerned about you."
She steps closer and slaps your back hard, and you nearly lurch forward toward the railing. "You could've said I have a nice body."
"Like I said, I am not a perv. And may I remind you that you are getting married soon?"
She was about to retort back when the staff called her to strap in. (Wait, did she just sigh?) And of course, like before, she gives no hesitation nor visible nerves (or none at all) as Jimin steps into the harness like her usual Monday.
You watched her from behind stepping towards the edge. Steady. Calm. And annoyingly fearless. (Don't cue the song.) The countdown starts: Three, two, one. And she jumps with a child's enthusiasm.
Your heart spikes violently when her body drops out of sight, and quickly rushes to the edge before you can stop yourself. The cord stretches, snapping tight. She rebounds upward, hair flying, laughing mid-air like gravity is optional, followed by a loud "WOOOOOOOOO!"
Of course she is fine. She's flushed and glowing when they pull her back up. "Gosh, that was so fucking fun."
She turns to you. "Your turn."
Oh boy.
Unlike the fearless Jimin, it takes all of your courage and self-chanting to step toward the harness. Your limbs feel strangely disconnected as the staff strap you in tight around your ankles, then waist. An extra pull to the strap just to be secure, and even the wedgie doesn't make your fear go away (well, it sort of does.)
At the corner of your eyes, Jimin has both her hands into fists and cheers for you. Her pout, at least, makes you forget about the situation for a bit. Finally gaining control of your breathing, you step toward the edge.
You look down.
Ah shit, it's all coming back now.
The lake looks distant. The blanket of green canopy looks even more like one colour of green like when the rendering is on 200p. And just like the slow ass render, you freeze on the spot.
You quickly snap out of it when Jimin cheers loudly. "YOU GOT THIS, YOU COWARD! THIS SHOULDN'T BE AS HARD AS YOUR PHD!"
You hate that your pride reacts before your fear. Nodding once, you just step off the platform. But was it really a cheer when she just called you a cow—
The world drops violently and, "HOLY SHIT IT'S GOING DOWN SO FAST, FUCK!!!! YOO JIMIN, YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!"
Your stomach lurches upward into your throat. The wind roars past your ears so loud it drowns everything else. And your hands clench instinctively to the safety strap. Your mouth goes wild with a mantra of cry for help.
(And you don’t realise it, but the demons haven’t gone back…yet..)
"OH SHIT! OH SHIT! OH FUCKIN' WHY IS IT SO TA— WHAT THE FU—"
Admittingly, it was funny when you think back, even more so when the cord catches and your body just jerks upward. If Jimin is fearless, you are just weightless. Like a fish getting pulled up to the boat when the staff haul you back up to the platform.
Ok, legs? Shaky, but still here. Arm? Still here. Head? A bit dazed but still here. Ok, sick. You're alive.
Jimin just cackles at the recording when you walk toward her. And instead of feeling annoyed, your heart beats erratically at hearing how full her laugh is. Well, you do, even if it feels temporary, and even if the demon of guilt slowly creeps back.
You hope the tower still stays up if you decide to come back.
-
From Wikipedia:
Yuldong Park had a bungee jumping tower that was 45 metres (148 ft) tall, but operations stopped around 2018, and it was taken down at the end of 2024.
-
Bold of you to assume she doesn't whack your face again the next day. This time at your belly.
You fold in half on instinct, air punching out of your lungs like she just drop-kicked you off a cliff. (Wait, don't give her that idea, she might do it.)
"You fucking piece of sh—"
"Language, Mr. Foreigner-ish." Jimin stands over you, one hand holding the pillow, the other holding the edge of the blanket she just ripped off your body. "Get up."
You groan and turn your face deeper into the couch cushion. And yes, it still ruins your neck even after she claims (multiple times) that it's "orthopedic". Well, she can find those orthopedic(k)-heads and whack them instead.
"What time is it…?"
"Time for some soul-cleansing."
"I didn't sin."
"And I'm not either, but here I am."
Fair.
You drag a hand over your face. It feels like a repeat of yesterday — room flooded with late-morning light, half-drawn curtains, pale streaks of lighting peeking through; something citrusy is in the air, she sprayed that damn mist again.
Oh, and she's already dressed. Long skirt, light blouse, her long hair tied back at the nape of her neck, minimal makeup, glossy lips.
"…Didn't you say you're taking days off? Sudden new clients you have to meet? I thought you said that the project is doing ok? Or going somewhere with your fiance? I need a break from your annoying ass right now."
"…it's Sunday church, you dunce."
"…No." "Yes."
"Why?" "My fiance is busy with work today, so I’m dragging you instead.”
"But I stopped." "Well, just go look at the architecture there or something."
"But I want to slee—" "And I'm leading Bible study today."
2 for 2, you jolted up again, this time from your couch. "You?"
"Yes."
"You? Leading?" "Yes." A little sweeter this time, she is.
"The fuck you do?" "Nothing?"
"Bro, that is worse."
-
After being in the practice since you started your Master's, you and Jimin have come to appreciate how cool the Bundang Church is.
You thought you would get sick of the theatre-like layout after 5 years of attending lectures back when you're still studying for your Bachelors, but you have to admit, it works. The space rises in tiers like an auditorium, and there is a central stage lit with fluorescent lights and a giant projectile screen at the back. The seating arcs gentling toward the stage, and it feels expansive, almost dramatic, but not cold. There’s something truly oddly homely about it.
Or maybe that’s just nostalgia playing tricks on you.
It's one of the largest Roman Catholic buildings on the Asian continent (Jimin boasted one time through a call), yet…it doesn't overwhelm you. It's a mix of modern and Gothic, so none of the stained glasses or intricated walls and columns, but just clean structural lines and brick walls—
Ah. So much for a break after that entire disaster of a life implosion.
"Dummy, we're not at a site visit." Jimin nudges your side.
"No, just wondering how tall the auditorium is." What a try hard."
Well, props to her for pointing out a cause why you're back here. "Anyway, where is the session?"
"On the stage. It's a small group anyway."
"Yeah, like you would present for a full house." "Hey! I am capable!"
Sure, sure. Back then, you two used to sit in the third row from the back (after sneaking away from the parents who sat near the front), whispering nonsense and timing how long Father would stretch the speech. You’d both pretend to bow your heads while actually passing notes. And she once bet you five thousand won that she could recite the whole Psalm section faster.
She lost.
Now she's walking to the stage like she owns it, and your curiosity rises through the roof. (The auditorium is 9m in height. Nice.) She looks like she has a great standing in the society, and honestly, good for her, truly. You’re really proud of what she has worked herself to be.
You? Pretty much fucked.
Your casual student assistant job for a tyrant shitshow of an architectural firm is going nowhere, you got no proper standing in life like Jimin does, everyday is just you chasing the bills living in a foreign country by yourself, every day chasing deadlines that don’t even carry your name on the credits. Sometimes (or all the time you two call each other) you do wonder if Jimin thrives in your predicament better than you.
(With her optimism? Most likely.)
"Anyway, please address me as Katarina while in session."
…sure. Whatever floats her boat. As long as she doesn’t start interrogating you in front of children. You thought she would have asked already. Yesterday, maybe. Or during lunch.
But she hasn’t.
That freaks you out more than anything ever.
She smooths down her sleeve, posture straightening slightly as she approaches down. There’s a confidence to her movements that didn’t exist when she was the mud-covered kid who dared you to eat dirt behind the convenience store. The main stage is already illuminated. A semicircle of chairs arranged for the kids, with a chair in the middle, presumedly for Jimin. The parents filter in with their children and exchange greetings. Huh, maybe Jimin has become a big shot here. Quite a crowd huh.
"Thank you so much for leading today, Miss Katarina." One mother gives gratitude.
"It's my pleasure, ma'am." Jimin replies with that polished smile. Shoulders back. Chin lifted. You almost applaud.
You have no intention of attending the session — you’re not twelve. And you haven’t really attended properly since you left Korea. So you linger near the aisle instead, which caught the eyes of a few parents.
"And you are…?"
"Hello." You lightly bow. "Her friend, visiting from abroad."
"Oh wow, exciting! What do you do?"
"Working for a firm."
"What field?"
"Architecture."
"Oh wow, just like Miss Katarina! You must've been making good money, right?"
“...you can say that, yes.”
“Oh! I remember you now. Miss Katarina speaks highly of you!”
“Wow, did she?”
The questions keep stacking, (Salary. Overseas life. How competitive is the field? Do you design skyscrapers? Did you get to have tea with the high class? Do you miss Korea?) and far out, it's starting to feel invasive. This shouldn't be how Jimin finds out you–
CLAP. "Ok! Ma’am, sir, I will take it from here. Thank you!"
You glance over at Jimin who is very jolly, but she's already looking in your direction as she announced, which gets the parents to finally tidy themselves up to leave. Huh, maybe Jimin has grown. There’s something annoyingly mature about her social awareness and her way of diffusing before things escalate.
Maybe you did underestimate her.
Maybe you did.
Her fiance must’ve seen this every Sunday, huh. Have to admit, you do feel quite envious of him then. (Or her, you don’t know who you truly envy.)
When the parents leave the space, the kids settle into their seats and exchange greetings, and it does remind you of times where you and Jimin sit together on the corner of the semicircle. Jimin sits on her central chair and guides them into the opening prayer.
Maybe you should pray. Mhm. Yeah, just once in a while.
What should you pray about? About your luck in a better job? Eh, you pray too much for that. About making new friends? Urm…hard to get any time for that when you keep getting overtime work. What about a lucky lotto ticket?...tempting.
Maybe just… pray for Jimin. For her upcoming marriage. For her happiness. It feels easier to wish good things for her than to ask for anything for yourself.
You lower your head.
She clears her throat, smiles. And immediately, you regret your generosity from five minutes ago.
"Yo."
You choke instantly. How the fuck none of the kids laugh at this? How long has she started praying like that? Is this what you call the Generation Gap?
“Dear Lord, thank You for bringing us here safely today…”
How the fuck she is so calm and composed?
“…and please grant patience,” she continues evenly, “especially for a certain idiot in this building who thinks I won’t see him laughing.”
You don't realise a wheeze escape from you before she points it out.
Well that is a jab, Yoo Jimin. Unbelievable.
(Maybe coming back to Korea is not so bad, after all.)
-
Today’s session: Sincerity and Guilt
The aim of our charge is love that issues from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith.
1 Timothy 1:5, New Testament, 378.
For my iniquities have gone over my head; like a heavy burden, they are too heavy for me.
Psalm 38:4, New Testament, 500.
-
You wake up to the hum of the engine and the faint vibration of tires rolling over the road. Wait, hold the fuck up — this is not Jimin's couch. Well, the stiffness when you wake up is still there, the scent of orange mist is still here (why the hell does she have this mist sprayer everywhere), and Yoo Jimin is here. Phew.
Well, you're in the passenger seat, and she's driving. Not phew.
Hair tied up in a low twin bun, sunglasses sit on her nose despite the sun barely being fully up. Just like before, one hand rests confidently on the steering wheel, while the other taps absentmindedly against it in rhythm with the music playing low from the speakers. Safe to say, she's more awake than you right now.
You squint at the windshield, and trees blur past you. "Where the fuck are we…"
She glances at you, and her lips fail to contain her amusement. "Good morning, sleepyhead."
"What time is it?" "It's…6."
"A.M?!" "Uhuh."
"Are you selling me off?"
"Hey, I tried to wake you up multiple times while I was packing. So this was the best next move."
"Hold up." At this point, she is skipping too many steps for you to even process. "Packing?"
She nods toward the back without taking her eyes off the road. “Camping gear.”
True to her words, there is a cooler wedged between two duffel bags. A folded tent. Fishing rods. A stack of blankets. A grocery bag filled with food. You can only stare at it speechlessly, and then back at her.
So much for having free will.
"Now," she starts quickly, already getting defensive. "Before you yell at me. Yes, you will do that, I know. I just want to maximise our time together! You have like 4 days left!"
…At least she has good intentions. Or you're just giving up arguing with her at this point — her plans sound more exciting than you just lounging around even more like a sloth. So you just sink back to the seat and close your eyes again. (And also pretending to not feel the growing excitement in your chest.)
A good little manageable nap later, you open your eyes to murmurs. And then at some point, you hear her voice clearer, soft and different.
“Yeah, we’re almost there. No, he’s still asleep— Ya, you should be taking my side! I did it with good intention!”
You blink. Who is she talking to?
“This blunt idiot will just lay down on the floor all day, and that is so boring, honey!”
“Jimin,” a voice from the other side says. “Babe, the more you describe it, the more I think it’s a kidnap.”
Oh…her fiance.
Eh, let’s just close your eyes a second longer. This conversation is pretty entertaining..well it was until: “No, it’s fine. I’ll make him carry the heavy stuff. Obviously.”
Her laugh sounds different than whenever she’s with you. Not brazen or a cackle. More…womanly. Still, it doesn't constitute the fact that she admits that you will be her porter. And far out, she notices immediately when you open your eyes. “Hey, you’re awake.”
“Of course I do, when I’m being subjected to carry all of that shit behind us.”
She lowers the volume slightly, then glances at you before speaking into the phone again. “He’s on the phone. Want to say hi?”
Your brain is definitely not ready for this.
She smacks your shoulder with her free hand while keeping the other hand on the wheel. “At least say hi. Don’t be rude.”
…She’s not wrong. “Ahem, uh…hey man, nice to meet you.”
There’s a brief, polite greeting from the other end. Friendly. Normal. Nothing threatening. Just a man you’ve never met but who apparently knows about you from your best friend. Words have been exchanged —weather, work (not telling him everything, of course), how much of a headache Jimin has been — that is a joke, and other random things.
“Nice to finally talk to you. Hopefully we get to have a can of beer together.” Oh right, and you both love Asahi Dry.
“Likewise man.” You chuckle. “Thank you for choosing Jimin.”
And it’s over.
She hangs up and smiles faintly. “See? That wasn’t hard.”
You turn back towards the windshield, and a while later, the Yuldong Park sign appears as the car passes through. She’s not dragging you back for another round of bungee jumping, right?
You turn toward her in suspicion, but before you can accuse her of attempted murder, she signals and turns into a newly paved entrance you don’t recognise.
"Why are we…" "You'll see."
Today you learn: there's a campsite now. Close to the lake, actually.
Wait, this is kinda cool, what the heck. They have large tensile shelter lining up on the gravel, neatly sectioned tent grounds clean vegetations along the road, and there's a fucking proper cabin for the toilet. Oh yeah, this is definitely not here when you left.
“This is new,” you mutter.
“Opened two years ago,” she says proudly. “I booked us a tent spot. You’re welcome.”
This is too much of a surprise for a morning. The lake greets you again with the glints under the morning sun. The air smells like wet grass and pine. Families are already setting up tents. A couple nearby struggles with poles while arguing in whispers. Everything feels so unfamiliar, and you had too many bad experiences with the unknown.
Honestly, you expected to feel guilty again for being here, and for even having a thought of enjoying this when you feel like you haven’t earned it. But Jimin looks elated, proud of this little surprise she concocted behind your back, and happy that you’re here to see it.
Maybe you can enjoy it…yeah, might as well. So you stretch when you step out of the car, spine cracking faintly. Fuck, that feels great.
"Ok, old man. Stop showing your age."
"Look at you." You point out her stretching pose. "Stop showing your age too, dummy."
She grins.
-
Camping with Jimin is exactly how you remember it back then: a fucking mess.
She insists on assembling the tent herself, but then pushes the work towards you anyway. Well, not all of it, you just unroll the fabric first and flatten it against the ground while Jimin fumbles with the poles.
"Did you check if everything's here, Jimin?" You yawn.
"Of course, duh. I'm the most meticulous girl ever."
One minute later, she's staring at two identical poles and probably forgot how they work. You can hear the mutters under her breath, rambling about what the fuck they do. You look over to find her flipping one pole around, then the other, then squinting at the instruction sheet like it owns her floor plans and a section. "Jimin, you're practicing architecture as your career, by the way. Top of your cohort, too."
"Reading floor plans are easier than reading Ikea instructions. Be patient, this kid."
“I fear for the lawsuits coming at you.” “Shhhh.”
You crawl over and brush her shoulder, reading the instruction while taking one of the poles from her hand. "Ok, make it stand. I will do the cross support."
The pieces snap together with eases like the sound of breaking spines. Jimin, reading the cue, slides the pole through the sleeve of the tent after you finish it. Together, you lift the structure upright. The frame arches slowly, fabric stretching tight as you secure it into the ground. Your hands get dirty pressing the stakes in. Jimin struggles with one stubborn corner as she plants the stake and then — instead of using her foot — leans her entire body weight on it.
"Ya, don't just lean your melons to it." "It's an accident!"
She pushes harder. The stake finally sinks in and she nearly falls forward. You catch her by the elbow automatically, because you have always been.
She freezes, which makes you freeze. "I get that you're very excited to be productive during our 7 days, but far out, don't overexert it."
Jimin straightens immediately and brushes grasses off her knees like nothing happened. "I had it…"
"I know, I'm just telling you."
When the tent finally stands properly — the fabric fully stretched out, poles standing proudly and strong, and stable enough that it won't collapse after one touch — you both step back to admire it. It's simple, a two person tent, yet you feel more accomplished than the multiple times you have attended the work sites.
And it feels smaller than you remember.
"Not bad." Jimin starts.
"Duh, I mostly built it." "Shaddup, I put equal contributions to it."
"No, you kept leaning on the pole and almost made it collapse multiple times." You nudge her shoulder.
"Are you calling me fat?" "Now you're just twisting my words as usual."
She kicks your ankle lightly. "You didn't even deny it, perv."
"Ok, I am not a perv, and I did not say anything about your chest." "When did I say anything about chest?"
The bantering doesn't stop until the tent collapses after a pigeon lands on it.
-
About an hour later, you two finally fish.
(Let's not think about how many times the tent collapsed because one of you “accidentally” nudged a pole mid-argument.)
You walk down toward the water where the dock is, with the rods balanced on your shoulders. The lake is still calm and barely rippling. The breeze carries that clean, damp scent of freshwater and pine. It cools the sweat at the back of your neck, softens the lingering irritation from assembling the tent for the third time. Jimin, from behind, carries the basket filled with a box of bait, and some drinks. She deserves to carry the heavier stuff with all the shenanigans she caused.
(Ok, you're not that mean. She just wants to flex her power. Her words, not yours.)
Jimin kneels first, and opens the bait box.
"You still remember how to fish?"
"Probably not." "Lovely, I can teach you again!"
"Yay. How fun." "Don't use that tone with me, mister."
You crouch beside her anyway, taking the hook between your fingers. The worm twists slightly as you thread it through. You did say you forgot, but your hands move like they never did. The motions are almost fluid, precise, steady — muscle memory sliding back into place without permission. Well, almost fluid, because your hand gets a bit sweaty with the laser-focused look from Jimin behind you.
"Jimin, you're scaring me."
"You said you forgot." She pouts.
"…maybe I am built different." "I think I got goosebumps hearing you saying slangs."
"Ok, rude."
She laughs, loudly and full. Hell, her shoulders shake a little after hearing a very corny joke — which makes your heart leap a mile again whenever she laughs. You just shove the rod towards her and sigh. "Here, now don't try to fall."
"I won't." She gets up and stretches (and with an unnecessary old man groan).
“You sound like that with him too?” you ask dryly.
“With my fiancé?” She grins. “Yes. He says I’m like a grandma.”
“He’s correct.”
“Jealous?”
“Of him? Never.” (You do.)
She walks to the edge of the dock, winding up too dramatically like there are multiple cameras around, she casts the bait.
It lands pathetically about 5 feet away.
"Lovely casting, Champion of the Lake." You clap slowly.
"Shush."
You cast yours — smoother, cleaner, and more streamlined. The line arcs perfectly into the water like the Harbour Bridge.
You can't stop the smirk on your face. "Should I teach you instead?"
"Show off, tsk." Jimin pouts. "Bet I catch one first."
"Loser cooks the fish." "And starts the fire."
The dock creaks softly. Leaves rustle. Somewhere in the distance, someone laughs. The water ripples gently around the floating bobbers. Jimin hums under her breath.
“You know,” she says suddenly, eyes still on the water, “I made him try fishing once.”
You glance sideways. “And?”
“He got bored after ten minutes. Said it was too quiet.”
You huff. “Weak.”
“I told him you could sit still for hours,” she continued lightly. “Back then, at least.”
Right, back then. “Well, tell him again that I still can.”
“You competitive ass.”
And it's back to childhood again, where Jimin doesn't have a wedding at the end of the trip, and where you don't have to figure out how to tell her. Just an over-the-top competition about basically nothing, where 90% of it is Jimin rambling about her time with her fiance and ways to make it “interesting”.
It's simple.
-
The day ends with you sitting on the camping chair and sipping on hot tea while watching Jimin trying her best with the "fish on a stick".
It was burned to fuck.
-
The next day, she decides that she refuses to accept defeat.
“You know what we haven’t done yet?” Jimin asks through a mouthful of toothpaste, words bubbling and distorted as she brushes aggressively…in public.
You’re beside her, equally half-dead, foam at the corner of your lips. “What?” you mumble, spitting and rinsing to the gravel. “Are we committing a crime now?”
"No, we're biking."
You freeze mid-wipe.
Your brain lags for a second before supplying the image: the rental bicycles lined up near the trail entrance yesterday. Rows of metal frames gleaming under the sun, and bright plastic helmets dangling off handlebars. The lake behind them looks deceptively calm and inviting.
It probably invites you to a comedy show with you and Jimin.
"You remember back then?"
"That was years ago," she spits out. "I have more practice now."
"You ram straight to the bush."
"It's not going to happen this time," She rinses her mouth again and glares at you. “Trust.”
You don’t.
Yet somehow, fifteen minutes later, you’re fastening a helmet strap under your chin like this was always the plan. Many times you have wondered at some point in life that it was a mistake to sign a lifetime contract as Yoo Jimin’s babysitter.
The trail curves along the lake, paved smooth and wide. Morning sun filters through the trees, scattering light across the trail. Families ride past casually. An elderly couple pedals in steady paces.
Now, let's see how you both fare when it comes to biking.
You? Mount the bike easily, and push off in one fluid motion.
Jimin? Nah. Well… at least she lasts 10 more seconds before the handlebar wobbles.
“Why is it moving like this?!” she yells.
“Because you are.” “I am stable!”
She is aggressively not stable.
You circle back, riding slowly beside her now. One hand hovering near the back of her seat without actually touching it just in case. “For someone who flexes about Pilates,” you comment, “your core is suspiciously dogshit.”
"Shut up, Mr. One Try."
And just like the old video on your phone, the first few attempts sucks (First one, which is the current one: Wobble. Second one, Wobble. Third one—yeah, you know how this goes.)
By the tenth time, she's actually doing it. Her legs pedalling a bit more stable than before, her shoulders tense but very determined, and the handlebar less wobbly. You just walk behind her now and push your own bike with one hand, the other still hovering near her seat. And for a moment, it was perfect. She looked confident, focused, and you're very proud of how far she has gone since back then.
And then you finally remembered what happened after the old video cut off.
A pigeon. Yep. A fucking pigeon.
Shot across the path, wings flapping violently, aiming straight for her face like it is fully locked in to its target.
Karina’s scream was instant, ear-splitting. “NOOOO—!”
She swerved wildly. You lunged, but oops! Too late! She toppled straight into you, and both of you crashed onto the grass in a messy heap. The bike clattered to the side, rolling away like it wanted no part of this mess.
You groaned, blinking up at the sky, only to find Karina sprawled across your chest. Her helmet knocked slightly askew, strands of hair falling into her flushed face. Her hands had fisted in your shirt on instinct, and her wide eyes were still darting around like the pigeon might swoop back for round two.
“…Are you okay?” you asked, trying very hard not to notice how close her lips were to yours (and also clenching your ass to not just laugh at her).
Her grip tightened. “I hate birds.”
Yeah, you can’t stop smiling at her. "I genuinely forgot that the great Yoo Jimin is scared of government drones."
“Shut up,” she muttered, smacking your chest lightly.
But she didn’t move.
And that was the problem. Because lying there with her weight pressing down on you, warmth seeping through your clothes, and her lashes brushing her cheeks as she blinked at you—it was too much. Way too much. She has someone waiting for her at the altar damn it, get yourself together.
You had laughed alone in your airplane seat, without knowing déjà vu works like this…except this time she's older, and so are you.
"Jimin, get up, you're crushing me."
She still doesn't get up immediately — her eyes meet yours, and there's something you can't exactly point out in her gaze, but it feels…serious.
A cyclist passes by and coughs awkwardly, which makes Jimin scramble off you so fast she almost trips again.
"Don't say anything." "Oh, I won’t."
"I will tell everyone you screamed like a bitch." "Right, I wonder who screamed again."
You sit up, rubbing the back of your head, watching her inspect the bike. At this point, Jimin will still be bad at this in the unforeseen future, and of course if you come back again, you will still be the idiot jogging behind her with your hand hovering, ready to catch her.
Look, she's pedalling aga— Ah, fucking hell, she's wobbling again. "YA, JIMIN, DON'T RUN OFF ON YOUR OWN!"
“STOP YELLING, YOU’RE DISTRACTING ME—” and she almost runs towards the lake.
-
The sun dips low behind the trees by the time you two drag yourselves back to the campsite. Your legs feel like someone replaced the bones with wet cement. Between having to chaperone Jimin who kept biking off the paths and throwing yourself off the bungee jumping tower again with her insistence (less terrifying this time, which is both impressive and concerning), your body screams to give it a break.
You collapse onto the foldable camping chair, and it is far more comfier than her couch.
“Don’t sit yet,” she says, already crouching by the fire pit with alarming enthusiasm. “Help me with the wood.”
“I deserve a break.”
“You're going to make a pretty woman do the work?”
You stare at her. “Yes.”
"You are so mean."
"Boo hoo, cry me a river, Jimin."
She ignores you and crouches by the fire pit, arranging the wood with far too much confidence for a girl who nearly crashed into a tree. You just poke at the kindling with a wooden stick that is luckily long enough for you to not get up. The campsite hums softly around you — distant giggles from another tent, the faint clinks of cookware, the crickets warming up, and the whooshing of the gentle wind from behind. The lake reflects the last streaks of oranges in the sky.
Down here, the fire glows a bright orange, and you both fall quiet. It's the first real quiet of the whole time you're with Jimin.
Just the sound of burning wood.
Jimin sits cross-legged, chin resting on her knee. Firelight paints her face in warm gold, shadows dancing along her cheekbones. Her helmet flattened her hair earlier; now it’s messy in a way that makes her look younger. (Or maybe that's just the memory creeping in now.)
She looks tired, but her smile lingers.
"This whole trip was really fun." she starts.
You watch a spark drift upward. “Mhm.” Understatement of the year.
"You, somehow, are still better at almost everything even though you said you don't remember."
You shrug, leaning back on your palms. “Maybe it’s genetic.”
She scoffs. “Boooo.”
Silence folds over you again, thicker this time. The fire pops. You focus on it because looking at her too long feels dangerous tonight. After everything — the biking, the falling, the way she laughed when you both nearly rolled down the grass, not to mention all the past few days spending your time with her — something underneath it all feels… you can't really describe it, but it's surely not the groans and complaints like you did back on the plane.
“Oh.” She reaches for her phone. “I should finally show you my fiancé’s face.”
Your heart palpitates more than you should. "O-oh, sure. Gotta see my fellow Asahi Dry fanatic."
She scrolls through her gallery, thumb hesitating for half a second before stopping. Then she turns the screen toward you. "That's my fiancé."
In the photo, they’re seated at what looks like a brunch café. Sunlight pours through wide windows. He’s leaning slightly forward, smiling. Not too wide, not cocky. Just… steady. His hand is comfortably wrapped around hers across the table.
You sigh out of relief, yet your feet keep shuffling.
"Good look, chill, subtly alcoholic like me." You hand her phone back. "Solid pick, Yoo Jimin."
"Solid?"
“What? You want ‘reinforced concrete’?”
She snorts. “You’re so annoying.” But she's smiling faintly.
You lean back on your palms, staring into the fire.
“He treats you well?” “Yeah.”
“Patient?” “Mhm.”
“Rich?”
She slaps your thigh. "Shut up, you prick."
You chuckle. "Ok, then good job. You picked well."
The words taste strange in your mouth. And you feel like she can tell the bitterness of your tone with how she doesn't respond right away, just staring at the flames instead.
After a moment, she speaks again. “He’s… steady.”
You glance at her. “Sounds like he does.” Hafta admitted that.
“He doesn’t panic,” she continues quietly. “Even when things get messy. He just thinks it through. Take responsibility. Don't run.”
Ok, that’s a good man, yes.
“He’s blunt sometimes,” she adds, a faint smile forming. “But not in a bad way. Just… straightforward. And when he decides to do something, he works like crazy until it’s done. Even if it kills him.”
What the heck, please take care of your hea— wait. That’s… familiar.
“He remembers small things,” she continues. “Like what I order. Or when I’m pretending I’m not upset. And he gets annoyed when I skip meals.”
…Hey, you used to do that back during exam periods.
“He’s also not the loud type,” she says. “But when he laughs, it’s real. And when he’s scared, he still jumps anyway.”
She keeps talking, unaware — or maybe even aware. “He doesn’t show off, but he always tries to carry the heavier stuff. And when he leaves, he always promises to update me about his whereabouts to not make me worry.”
Looking at her feels like you’re going to burn instead of looking at the fire pops. This is too ridiculous — coincidences happen. There are thousands of men like that in the world, yeah? Don’t get too full of yourself.
“Well, I don’t see red flags.” Your chuckle is so awkward.
She takes a whole breath. "I thought it would feel clearer."
You refuse to look at her. "What do you mean?"
“Like I’d only see him. Only think about him. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right?”
Right...this doesn’t sound good.
“But it’s not like that.” She laughs softly, but it doesn’t sound amused. “Every time I look at him, there’s… something in the way.”
"…having second thoughts?"
"No." She answers it too quickly. "…ok, maybe."
"Jimin, that is not good."
"No, I do love him a lot. I really do. It's just that every time I look at him, there's something in the way."
Your eyebrows furrow as you look at her, but your inside is on high alert. "In…the way?"
She turns toward you fully. "It's you."
The campsite noise feels farther away now.
“I can’t look at him properly,” she admits. “Not fully. Because part of me keeps wondering what you’re doing. What you’re thinking. Why are you here? I was genuinely confused when your parents told me you're back here. I-I mean, I’m happy that I can see you in person, of course, but why?"
You force a small scoff. “Vacation. Obviously. You’re reading too much into it.”
“No,” she says quietly. “You’re the one that is obvious.”
Your stomach drops slightly. “How so?”
“You always tell me what you’re doing. Even when you don’t want to.” Her voice is calm but steady. “But you didn’t. Not for months. Then suddenly you’re here.”
Damn it. You thought you were smooth. “I just don’t want to talk about work.”
“I know.” Her eyes don’t leave you. “But you are trying to hide it away from me.”
“Jimin,” you say, voice firmer now, “can we not?”
“No.”
“Yoo Jimin.”
She doesn’t flinch.
“Why are you really here?”
-
It was not a pleasant drive back the next day.
-
The moment you step back to her apartment, you know you have to tell her eventually, even though you have been dreading this moment since the plane took off.
After the dream, the reality follows.
You drop your bag by the entrance. It lands with a dull thud against the wooden floor. Jimin follows behind you, dragging the camping equipment in. Your body aches from five days of being outside and pretending you're still eighteen — biking, camping, falling, laughing, bungee jumping, just living life, really. But your body doesn’t get to feel any of that. Because anxiety is overwhelming you.
Jimin moves around the apartment quietly — unpacking, wiping down the cooler, hanging the key. But she doesn’t look at you.
It's fine, you tell yourself. The moment she asks, you tell yourself you will let her know, and she'll understand. Of course she will, it's your best friend.
It’s Yoo Jimin.
The dork who used to put extra candies in your pockets during exam weeks. The girl who sat beside you at cram school until 10 p.m., both of you half-dead over mock exams, then walked home under flickering streetlights. The girl who understands that when you say something blunt, it’s because you don’t know how to say it gently.
You basically live with her throughout your life. She'll get it…she has too.
(Hopefully.)
"Sit down." She says without turning around. "Have some tea."
"Ok."
She sets two mugs down on the table. Steam curls upward between you like a fragile truce. She sits next to you. Too close.
"Why…why did you really come back?"
The question hits harder than you expect. You thought you were ready. You really do. But you weren’t. And you hate how you keep trying to deflect it. “We’re doing this again?”
“Yes.”
“Jimin.”
“Don’t ‘Jimin’ me.”
You rub your face with both hands. “You’re being nosy.”
She laughs once. “Nosy? You flew back in the middle of March. Not summer. Not winter break. March. You never come back in March.”
"Impulsive decision, really."
"You're the last person to make decisions on impulse." She studies your place. "…something happened, didn't it?"
Your heart pounds once. Hard. Okay, this is it. Just say it. She’ll understand. She will understand. She will…understand…Please understand.
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. "I…um, left."
"Left what?" "The program."
The silence is suffocating. Her expression is not helping in clearing the tension at all - it just freezes, like her brain is buffering.
“You… what?”
“I left,” you repeat. “The PhD.”
Her fingers tighten around her mug.
“You mean… you’re on leave?” “No.”
“You’re transferring?” “No.”
“Then what does ‘left’ mean?”
Your throat feels dry. “It means I dropped out.”
The words feel smaller in the room than they did in your head. You wait, bracing yourself for the version of her you expect — the soft one, the worried one. The one who’ll reach for your hand and ask if you’re okay. Just like back then when you two stayed up revising calculus and she’d nudge your shoulder when you looked too tired, right?
Right?
"Why."
That…sounds more like an accusation than anything.
You blink. “It wasn’t…working out.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I–I…” Your chest feels like it's compressing. "I was…burnt out." You begin. “My advisor changed. My project stalled. Funding got complicated. And I was swamped with working and juggling with this program. I—”
“So you quit?”
The sharpness in her tone makes you flinch. It's a far cry from your image of Jimin.
"Jimin, I didn't want to just wake up and quit," you say carefully. "It accumulated and I got burnt out, you have to understand."
"You? Burnt out? We went through CSAT exams, come on. You’re tougher than this!" That disbelieving laugh of hers makes your stomach twist.
"Even steel bends and snaps under intense pressure!"
"You're the most stubborn person I know even when under pressure." "I’m allowed to feel overwhelmed, Jimin."
"You don't give up just like this." "Apparently, I do."
"You got a full scholarship!" Her voice rises as she stands up abruptly, like what coming out of your mouth is blasphemous. “A. Full. Scholarship! You moved overseas. You get PAID to be overseas. You had such a golden opportunity that everyone in our school couldn't stop talking about. You were doing what we talked about since we were seventeen!”
…you don't know how to feel about that outburst.
“You think I don’t know that?” you shoot back, defensive now. “You think I don’t replay that in my head every night?”
“Well, you should know that you sounds entitled as fuck right now, yeah? Then why would you throw it away?”
Ah, now you know how to feel: anger.
“I didn’t throw it away!” you snap. “It was fucking hard!”
“You didn’t try hard enough, then.”
All your efforts just got ripped in front of you. The demons finally come in full swing and douse you with the worst situation right now. "I didn't try hard enough?"
“You had everything lined up,” she continues. “You were ahead. You were building something.”
"Jimin, I was drowning in everything."
"You should've told me!"
"I don't want to make you worry!"
"Oh, so you just shut the fuck up and don't tell me?" She slams her hand to the counter. "You barely send me updates the past few months. Left me on read. And then you show up here like it's some motherfucking trip back to childhood?!"
How do you even respond to that? Well, you don’t— she just keeps on going.
“You have the past 5 days to tell me. 5 FUCKING DAYS, COME ON.” She aggressively scratches her head. “You could’ve told me the moment you landed. You could’ve told me when we went bungee jumping. You could’ve told me after church. Fucking heck, you could’ve told me during camping!”
“I just don’t know the right words to—”
“You’re just fucking running away! You telling me at the last minute RIGHT NOW is the damn proof!”
You don't realise your tears have been falling for a while now. You thought she would say: Are you okay? But instead it's: Why did you ruin it?
“If I knew you were going to do this,” she spits out, “I should’ve tried harder for that scholarship.”
“Excuse me?” Your head jerks up. “Are you serious right now?”
“You think I didn’t want it?” she fires back. “You think I didn’t want to study architecture abroad too? I worked just as hard as you.”
You know she does. So much. “You were the one who got chosen,” she says, her voice trembling. “So I told myself that’s fine. I’ll be happy for you. You’ll go. I’ll stay. I’ll build my life here, and let you know that I'm fine, that I can stand up after the loss of my dream."
She looks at you directly. "I fucking lived through you, wishing that it was me."
The confession makes your stomach twist.
“Every update you sent — your studio projects, your professors, your exhibitions that you helped, all the contributions for your firm — I was so damn proud of you,” she continues. “I bragged about you. I told people you were brilliant. I was seriously your biggest supporter when people shit talk about you.”
Your throat burns.
"I fucking loved that about you," her voice becomes more ragged. “Your focus. Your drive. How you're standing up to yourself. Even when you were blunt and impossible.”
Loved. Past tense.
“And now you’re telling me you just… gave up?”
Something inside you cracks. “Are you stubborn? I didn’t give up!” you shout. “I was exhausted! I was alone there! Do you know what that’s like?!”
“And I wasn’t alone here?” she fires back.
“Hell the fuck no?! At least you had people! Your family, my family, your friends, our friends!” you argue. “I had no one over there. I had to learn English by myself. I had to adapt to a new culture. I had to get used to new neighbourhood. I couldn’t eat my childhood food on days I crave them. Everyone is smarter and more competitive than me. The professors didn't give a shit if I got no sleep before critic days.”
"Again, you could've told me!"
"And again, I don't want you to see me failing!"
"It's far better than you crawling back like a bitch right now!"
“A BITCH?” your bare feeling spills out. “I missed sleep. I missed hang outs. I worked like a fucking dog. I studied like a fucking madman. I fucking clean the garbage room of the kitchen to get minimum wage. I had panic attacks in studio bathrooms. I lived with eating only one meal at a time. I cry in the corner of the train and feel so fucking embarrassed when stranger asked if I need help!”
She freezes slightly, but she doesn’t soften.
“And you still walked away. You think I don't have it tough? It's just life!”
"You can't just say that…" You wipe your tears. "Even I can break down under intense expectations too!"
“So you drop everything? Just like that?”
“Have you not paying att— It wasn’t ‘just like that.’”
“It looks like that to me!”
Silence crashes down, and then she says it. “I was wondering the whole week if I should introduce you to him in person. But I guess I don’t have to.”
“What?” “My fiance.”
“Why don't you have to?” “I’m too ashamed to.”
The word stuns you. “...Ashamed?”
“Yes. Ashamed to put you in the same room.” “Why the hell would you be ashamed?”
“Because he’s—” She stops. Swallows. “Because he’s everything you’re supposed to be.”
The air sucks out of you. “Are you fucking serious?”
“I’m being serious.”
“Wow, so you married him because he’s successful,”
“That’s not—don’t twist my words.”
“You married him because he’s stable, didn’t break, and didn’t disappoint you.”
“Stop.”
“Because he’s me,” you continue, laughing in disbelief, “just more successful. Wow, how shallow, Yoo Jimin.”
“Shut it!”
“You couldn’t have me becoming a failure, right? You fucking show off. I should’ve known that habit hasn’t died out yet.” you push. “You need to keep your face in society, so you found a replacement.”
Her face drains of color. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” you laugh bitterly. “You said it yourself. You lived through me. And when I fell short of your dream, you needed someone else to project it onto.”
“That’s fucking disgusting.”
“Good that you fucking realise it! Then stop living your life through me!” you shout. “Stop tying your happiness to what I achieve. Stop measuring your own worth against mine!”
The silence is pregnant.
“You don’t get to decide what my marriage is,” she says, trembling.
“And YOU don’t get to decide what my breaking point is.”
She looks at you like she doesn’t recognize you. “I miss the 5 minutes when I don’t know how you’re...like this.”
What…’like this?’ “You’re embarrassed of me, huh.”
She doesn’t deny it, nor try to hide it either.
“You built your life here,” you continue, voice hollow. “Good. I’m proud of you. But stop treating me like a trophy.”
“Oh I'm sure I will. Maybe now I can finally focus on getting married,” she says quietly, “knowing you’re not who I thought you were.”
“How could you…” That hurts. That hurts more than anything else she's said.
You stare at her dead straight. You scream for comfort, you scream for understanding. It's the only reason why you fly back to Korea — knowing that Jimin, of all people, will be empathetic to your struggles living alone. The first lesson of being an architect is to be empathetic right?
Instead, you feel judged and small, and the world around you feels so..shallow.
"You know what, just— get out."
You blink. “Jimin—”
“Get out.” She’s shaking now. “I can’t look at you right now.”
“Are y—” You stand there for a second longer than you should. Waiting. For her to take it back. For her to soften.
She doesn’t. And suddenly you don’t know what is familiar to you anymore.
“Fine.”
What else can you say, or do really, except just grab your clothes from the coffee table? Hastily shove them into your luggage without folding. Your hands shake. Your pride feels like shattered glass in your chest. You don't look at her again, and shut the door behind you.
If even your best friend sees you like this, who else is there…?
-
The bungee jumping tower stopped operating around a year later.
Han Y/n had always been the boy everyone noticed—not because he was the loudest, but because no one could avoid seeing him sprinting after one person in particular: Yu Jimin, better known as Karina.
Since elementary school, he followed her like a sunflower follows sunlight. He carried extra snacks for her, walked her home even when she said she didn’t need him to, and would show up at every recital or school event just because she was there. Karina always found him annoying—persistent to a fault, too kind, too bright.
And yet… she got used to it.
⸻
— 🌙 Then One Day… He Stopped
It wasn’t sudden. It was quiet.
He still greeted her with a smile. Still said “Good morning, Karina,” when he passed by her desk. But he no longer waited for her after school. He no longer brought her favorite strawberry bread. He no longer ran after her when she walked away.
Instead, he sat with his friends. Laughed more freely. Started staying behind at the gym after classes.
He was calm now. Still warm, still bright—but no longer orbiting around her. Karina didn’t understand why her chest felt weird.
⸻
— 🌾 The Conversation
One afternoon, she finally caved in. “Hey… can I talk to you?”
Y/n glanced up from tying his shoelaces in the gym hallway. He smiled—gentle, easy. “Yeah?”
Karina hesitated. “Are you… mad at me? For always rejecting you?”
Y/n blinked, surprised. Then he chuckled softly. “Mad? No. I’m not mad.” He stood up, slinging his sports bag over his shoulder. “I just… don’t feel like following you around every day anymore,” he said simply. No bitterness. No guilt. Just honesty.
Karina’s lips parted, but no words came out. “O-Oh… Okay.”
Y/n nodded, smiling again—genuine, not forced. “I made it on the basketball team. You should come watch our games sometime.”
And just like that, he walked past her—calm, confident, not waiting for her reaction. She stood there long after he was gone.
⸻
— 🌧️ Something Felt Wrong
Days passed. He still smiled at her, still talked to her if she talked first—but he didn’t try anymore. Didn’t chase. Didn’t cling. And the space he used to fill beside her felt… empty.
Karina found herself glancing at the gym after school. Peeking into the cafeteria to see where he sat. Listening unconsciously for his voice in the hallways. Why did everything feel too quiet without him?
⸻
— 🔥 The First Spark of Jealousy
One afternoon, on her way to class, she stopped.
There he was. Han Y/n. Leaning against the railing near the courtyard, laughing softly while talking to a girl from his class.
He wasn’t flirting. He wasn’t touching her. Just talking, polite and friendly—like he did with everyone. But Karina’s chest tightened.
Why was he smiling like that? Why was she making him smile like that? She didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all. For the first time… she missed the way he used to look at her.
⸻
— 🌙 Karina’s POV
I didn’t understand why my feet lead me to the gym that day. I stood by the doorway, watching as Y/n threw a ball into the air, sweat on his forehead, laughter on his lips as his teammates cheered. It was the same smile I used to see when he’d spot me in the hallway.
But now, it wasn’t for me. When practice ended, a girl from his class—Minji—walked up with a bottle of water.
“Good job today,” the girl said shyly.
My eyebrows twitched.
Y/n smiled, scratching his neck. “Thanks.”
I felt something unfamiliar crawl into my chest. It was tight. Warm. Annoying.
Why does she get to talk to him like that?
Why does he smile like that… at her?
I scoffed under my breath and walked away before he could notice.
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV
I didn’t notice Karina standing there. I didn’t look for her anymore. I stopped myself from hoping. Things were simpler that way.
Minji handed me water and I thanked her. Just being polite—because that’s how I was. But something in the atmosphere shifted, and I turned instinctively toward the gym door…
Empty.
I sighed.
Why am I even looking?
⸻
— 🌙 Karina’s POV – At Lunch
I sat with my friends, pretending to listen to their gossip. But my eyes kept drifting—pulling, against my will—to a table across the cafeteria.
To him.
Han Y/n, laughing with his teammates. Not loud, not obnoxious. Just… effortlessly happy.
Then it happened.
A girl sat beside him, playfully tugged at his sleeve, complaining about homework. He leaned slightly closer to hear her.
Something snapped inside me.
“What are you staring at?” Giselle asked.
I nearly flinched. “N-Nothing.”
My spoon stirred my soup aggressively.
Why do I care? He’s just… Han Y/n. The annoying guy who—who used to follow me everywhere. Who’s not supposed to smile at someone else like that.
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV – The Hallway
I walked down the hallway, headphones on, a peaceful expression on my face.
Then someone tapped my shoulder.
Karina.
I paused, pulling one earbud out. “Hey.”
She shifted her weight, arms crossed. “Do you always… smile like that when girls talk to you now?”
“No!” she snapped, then softer, “I just—forget it.”
I offered that same gentle smile. “Okay. But if something’s bothering you, you can tell me.”
⸻
— 🌙 Karina’s POV
My heart squeezed. Stop being so kind. It’s annoying… but I miss it.
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV – On the Way Home
Her words echoed in my head.
- Do you always smile like that at girls now?
I didn’t understand her anymore.
Why does she care? She told me to stop. She wanted space… And now that I’m giving it, she looks at me like I’m the one being unfair.
I rubbed the back of my neck and exhaled.
“Just because I stopped chasing doesn’t mean I stopped feeling.”
⸻
— 🌙 Karina’s POV – Night
Lying in bed, I stared at her ceiling.
My phone lit up with a new message from a friend. I ignored it. Because all I could think about was him. The boy who used to run after me like I was the sun itself.
The boy who now looked at the world… instead of just me.
I sighed, whispering into the dark:
“Why does it hurt… when he smiles at someone else?”
⸻
— 🌙 — Music Room.
I sat in the practice room after school, earbuds in, pretending to study my sheet music.
But outside the glass window, I could see the basketball court.
I told myself that I wasn’t watching him—more like… glancing in his general direction frequently.
I saw him laughing again, this time helping Minji fix her shoelace during warmup.
Minjeong’s pen snapped in my hand.
Minjeong blinked. “Uhh… Karina? That was a limited edition pen—”
I stood abruptly. “They shouldn’t make them so weak.”
But my eyes never left Y/n.
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV – After Practice
While grabbing my bag, I spotted her.
Karina.
Leaning on the railing outside the court, pretending to scroll on her phone… but every few seconds, her eyes would dart towards mine.
The Karina I knew—cold, composed, unbothered by the world—wouldn’t have done that.
I narrowed my eyes slightly.
Strange… why does she look annoyed?
Minji walked up beside me. “You heading to class?”
Karina’s gaze instantly sharpened.
I followed her line of sight, then blinked.
…Is she glare—no way. At Minji?
⸻
— 🍂 She Messes Up Because of Him
— 🌙 Karina’s POV – In Class
It was my turn to do a presentation. I stood at the front, posture perfect, voice steady. I never messed up presentations. Ever.
Until I saw him walk in late.
Han Y/n.
Still in his basketball jacket. Hair slightly damp. Smiling—breathless and soft—as he whispered an apology to the teacher before taking a seat.
My brain blanked.
I stared at the class. Silence stretched.
Someone coughed.
What was I saying?
My cheeks heated up. I looked at Y/n—who was staring back, eyebrows slightly raised in concern.
I cleared her throat. “S-Sorry, I… lost my place.”
My friends exchanged shocked looks.
I never mess up.
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV
I watched as Karina stumbled over her words again. I tilted my head. She’s nervous? Karina? She avoided my eyes the rest of the presentation.
When it ended, she nearly rushed back to her seat, face slightly flushed.
Her friend whispered something and nodded toward me.
Karina glared at her friend and hissed, “I’m not looking at him!”
I heard that.
My lips pressed together in a confused smile.
She’s acting… weirdly.
⸻
— 🌫 Another Jealous Moment
— 🌙 Karina’s POV – After School
I was walking down the hall when I spotted him again.
Y/n was helping another girl carry paint buckets for the art club. He was laughing as paint splattered on his wrist.
I frowned.
Then the girl grabbed a napkin and wiped the paint off his hand—too gently. Too comfortably.
I didn’t think.
I marched over.
“Y/n.” My voice was sharper than she intended.
He blinked. “Oh. Hey.”
I ignored the girl completely. “Can I talk to you?”
His eyebrows lifted—surprised. “Uh, sure?”
The girl pouted slightly at the interruption.
My eyes narrowed at her before turning away.
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV – In The Empty Hallway
I followed her into the hallway.
I leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “What’s up?”
Karina looked… restless. Annoyed. But also… nervous?
“Do you…” She hesitated. “Do you like her?”
“Like who?”
“The art girl.”
I blinked once.
Then twice.
A slow smile tugged at the corner of my lips. “So you were watching.”
Karina’s ears turned red. “A-Answer the question.”
“No,” l said simply, amusement lacing my tone. “She just needed help.”
Karina muttered, “You… help a lot of girls lately.”
I raised a brow. “Is that a problem?”
Karina looked away. “No. It’s just—”
I leaned forward slightly, eyes soft.
“Karina… why do you care?”
⸻
— 🌙 Karina’s POV – Hallway
My throat went dry.
“Karina… why do you care?”
His voice was gentle—not mocking, not accusing. Just… searching.
I stepped back. “I don’t.”
He tilted his head, unconvinced. “You don’t?”
“No.” I avoided his eyes. “I just think you’re… careless with your attention, that’s all.”
He smiled faintly. “So you don’t care if I like someone else?”
My heart thumped painfully.
“No.”
“You don’t care if I start dating someone?”
My chest squeezed.
“Of course not.”
He nodded slowly. “Alright then.”
But his eyes… they looked a little sad. Like he expected that answer. Like he was finally letting go.
I hated how that made me feel.
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV – Walking Away
I didn’t push further.
What was the point?
She said she didn’t care. I had to respect that… even if something in her eyes suggested otherwise.
I flashed a small smile. “Thanks for worrying, if you were.”
Karina opened her mouth, but I was already walking away.
Her hand lifted slightly—like she wanted to reach out.
But she didn’t.
And I didn’t turn back.
⸻
— 🏀 The Basketball Game
— 🌙 Karina’s POV
I told herself I wouldn’t go.
Then I found herself sitting at the back of the bleachers, hood over my head, heart beating too fast.
He didn’t know I was here.
No one did.
I saw him on the court—focused, determined, sweat glistening on his forehead. The crowd cheered his name when he scored.
Since when did everyone love him this much?
My chest swelled with something I couldn’t name.
Then—everything changed.
⸻
— 🏀 The Fall
Midway through the second half, Y/n sprinted across the court, went for a layup—
—and a player from the opposing team shoved him mid-air.
His body twisted.
He hit the floor. Hard.
The noise of his body slamming echoed across the gym.
Gasps.
Referee’s whistle.
Everything muted in my ears.
⸻
— 🌙 Karina’s POV – Panic
I stood up so fast, my seat thumped back.
“Y/n!” My voice came out louder than I expected.
Players rushed to him. The crowd murmured.
He held his wrist, jaw clenched, eyes shut tight.
Without thinking—I ran down the bleachers.
My friends yelled after me, but I didn’t hear.
I pushed through the circle of players and knelt beside him.
His eyes opened weakly. “Karina…?”
I swallowed, hands shaking. “Does it hurt?”
He chuckled weakly. “Little bit.”
Tears burned behind my eyes.
“Don’t laugh! You— You idiot, why didn’t you brace yourself?!”
He blinked at me. I was… crying?
“Karina—”
“No!” I snapped, grabbing his hand. “Don’t—don’t scare me like that again.”
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV – Realization
She was holding my hand.
Her eyes looked scared… angry… but mostly scared.
I didn’t move. I didn’t speak.
I just stared at her.
“Karina,” I said softly, “why are you crying?”
“I’m not!” she said, wiping her cheeks roughly.
I smiled faintly. “You are.” She glared at me—but her grip on my hand didn’t loosen. “Why do you care so much?” I asked again—soft, almost a whisper.
Karina’s lips parted.
Her voice trembled. “Because… I—”
But before she could finish, the coach and team staff arrived.
Someone pulled her gently aside.
But me? Even while being lifted up, injured wrist cradled—
I was smiling.
Because now… I finally knew.
She cared.
⸻
— 🌙 Karina’s POV
The nurse’s office smelled faintly of antiseptic and warm tea.
Y/n sat on the bed, wrist wrapped in ice, winced slightly each time he moved. The coach had left. The nurse went to get bandages.
But I was still there.
Sitting on the chair beside his bed. Arms crossed. Legs bouncing nervously.
I wouldn’t look at him.
I couldn’t.
Y/n glanced at me, lips tugged into a small smile.
“You know…” he said softly. “You don’t have to stay.”
I rolled her eyes, voice sharp but shaky.
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just… making sure you don’t pass out and hit your head again.”
“I never hit my head.”
“You could’ve.”
He chuckled. “So you’re worried.”
“I’m not worried,” I snapped quickly.
His smile widened slightly. “…Hm.”
“Stop ‘hm’-ing me.”
“Okay.”
Silence.
Then—he turned his head toward me again, eyes playful despite the bandages.
“Karina.”
“What?”
“Can you hand me my phone? It’s on the table.”
I stood up, grabbed it, handed it to him.
He didn’t take it.
I frowned. “What are you—?”
He tilted his head slightly. “Both my hands kinda hurt right now… Will you… hold it up for me?”
My eye twitched.
Oh, so he wanted to die today.
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV
She was glaring at me, but she still held my phone up in front of my face.
I grinned.
“Can you unlock it? Password is 0423.”
Karina hesitated. “Why… would you tell me your password?”
“Because I trust you?”
She glared harder, cheeks a little pink. “You’re annoying.”
But she typed it anyway.
I leaned forward slightly. “Can you—scroll up a little? My messages are there.”
“You know,” she muttered, “I didn’t sign up to be your personal assistant.”
“But you’re doing a great job.”
“Han Y/n—”
“Hmm?”
“Shut up.”
⸻
— 🌙 Karina’s POV – The Slip-Up
He was smiling at me.
Even bandaged, injured, barely able to move his wrist—he was still smiling.
Soft. Like he was seeing something he liked.
I looked away quickly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
He blinked. “Like what?”
“Like I’m… I don’t know. A painting.”
He laughed quietly. “Maybe you are.”
My cheeks flushed. “Y-Yah—don’t say stupid things.”
He leaned back. “You know… this is the first time you came to one of my games.”
I froze.
He smiled. “Thank you.”
“I— I wasn’t there for you,” I stammered. “I was just—passing by.”
“In the last row of bleachers?”
I glared. “I hate you.”
He chuckled softly. “You say that a lot lately. But… your eyes say something else.”
My chest tightened.
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV – Gentle Teasing
I watched her.
Arms crossed. Face red. Sitting in a plastic chair like it offended her existence.
But she didn’t leave.
Not when the nurse came back. Not when the coach told her she could go. Not even when her friends peeked through the window.
She stayed.
I lifted my uninjured hand slightly.
“Karina.”
She looked at me.
“Thank you… for staying.”
Karina swallowed hard, looked away.
“D-Don’t misunderstand. I’m only here because if you die or something, people might think it’s my fault.”
I laughed. “Right. Totally logical.”
She huffed. “Good.”
A small silence… and then:
“Karina.”
“What now?”
“You’re still holding my phone.”
She looked down—realizing she was still holding it—gripped tightly.
Her face turned crimson.
She shoved it into my lap.
“S-Shut up and go to sleep.”
I chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.
⸻
— 🌙 Karina’s POV – The First Visit
Y/n wasn’t at school for two days.
His wrist was sprained worse than expected. He stayed home to rest.
I told herself it wasn’t a big deal. That it was quiet. Peaceful. Normal.
…So why did the hallways feel emptier? Why was no one annoying me during lunch?
Why did I have an extra lunchbox in her bag?
After school, I stood in front of his house for ten full minutes before knocking.
Y/n opened the door, arm in a sling.
He blinked in surprise. “…Karina?”
I looked away immediately. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I just—um—your classmates asked me to bring you notes.”
He tilted his head. “My classmates?”
“…Yes.”
“Who?”
“…People.”
He tried not to smile. “Right.”
I shoved the notebook into his chest. “Also… I had extra food. If you don’t want it, throw it away.”
He peeked inside the lunch bag.
It was still warm.
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV – Soft Teasing
She stood in my room awkwardly while I sat on the edge of the bed, opening the lunchbox.
Kimchi fried rice. Rolled omelette. Cut fruit.
I smiled. “You made all this?”
Karina froze. “N-No! My mom did.”
I took a bite. “Your mom writes your initials on rice with seaweed?”
Karina almost choked. “Eat faster so I can leave.”
I grinned. “You can sit, you know.”
“I’d rather stand.”
I patted the chair next to my bed. “Suit yourself.”
…
She sat.
⸻
— 🔥 Someone Else Confesses!
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV – Back at School
A week later, I returned to school.
I walked into class. Everyone cheered. A few classmates asked if I was okay. Minji, the girl from earlier, approached me with a shy smile.
“Y/n, can I talk to you after school? …I want to tell you something.”
I blinked. “Uh, sure.”
Karina, from her seat, froze mid-bite of her bread.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
⸻
— 🌙 Karina’s POV – After School
I told herself I wouldn’t follow him.
I told herself I was just going the same way.
Y/n stood near the school gates, waiting.
Minji walked up to him, fingers nervously fidgeting. “Han Y/n… I like you. Will you go out with me?”
I stopped walking.
My heart dropped.
Y/n looked surprised. Kind. Gentle.
He opened his mouth to respond—
But I stepped out from behind the wall.
“Actually,” I said loudly, “he can’t.”
Both turned.
Y/n blinked. “Karina?”
Minji looked startled. “W-Why not?”
I didn’t think. I just moved—stood beside him, arms crossed. “Because he has basketball training. Every day. And student council stuff. And—eye surgery. He’s busy.”
Y/n stared at me.
Minji blinked. “Eye… surgery?”
I nodded confidently. “Yes. To fix his vision from being stupid.”
Y/n almost choked.
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV – Realization Hits
Minji excused herself in confusion.
Karina turned to leave.
But I caught her wrist gently with my uninjured hand.
She looked back, slightly flustered.
I stared at her for a moment—soft, amused, eyes slightly shining. “Karina.”
“What?”
“You could’ve just said you didn’t want me to say yes.”
She scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You could’ve said you care.” She turned away, but my voice softened. “Karina… do you?”
Her heart pounded.
She whispered—barely audible— “…You’re still injured. Don’t make me push you down the stairs.”
I smiled.
Because that meant yes.
⸻
— 🌙 Karina’s POV
I didn’t know why I walked him home. He insisted he was fine. But I walked beside him anyway—arms crossed, cheeks slightly red.
We stopped under the streetlight outside his house.
“Thanks for walking me,” Y/n said softly.
I clicked her tongue. “I wasn’t walking you. I was heading this way.”
He smiled slightly. “My house is the opposite direction of yours.”
I paused. “I— I like the long route.”
Y/n’s smile widened. “Right.”
My brows furrowed. “Why are you smiling?”
“Noth—”
“Stop smiling!”
“Why?”
“Because it’s annoying!”
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV
I watched her fume, arms crossed, eyes sharp and anxious.
But there was something behind her eyes tonight—fear. Confusion. And something a little softer.
“Karina,” I said gently, “why are you like this?”
“Like what?”
“One second you ignore me. The next, you’re running onto the court crying because I got hurt. Then you bring me food, notes, and block someone from confessing to me.”
Karina’s ears turned red. “D-Don’t make it sound weird.”
“It is weird,” I said softly. “Because you say you don’t care.”
“I don’t!”
“Then why do you act like you do?”
⸻
— 🌙 Karina’s POV – Cracking
My heart pounded.
Why was he pushing this? Why now?
“Y/n,” I muttered, “just drop it.”
“No,” he said quietly. “I’ve liked you for years. I chased you for years. I don’t anymore. But… I still care.” His eyes lowered. “If you don’t feel anything, say it. I’ll stop bothering you. For good this time.”
Silence.
Cold silence.
My chest tightened painfully.
Stop? For good?
Why… does that sound worse than anything?
My hands curled into fists. “You’re so—so stupid, Han Y/n.”
He looked up, blinking. “Huh?”
And then—
⸻
— 🫢 The Confession!
My words tumbled out in a rapid, angry, flustered mess: “You’re stupid! You’re—annoying, and loud, and you never give up even when people tell you to!
You’re too kind—too kind to everyone! And then you stopped!
You stopped chasing me… stopped following me around… and I thought I’d be happy, but—
I hated it! I hate seeing you smile at other girls!
I hate not being the one you’re looking at first!
I hate the way my chest hurts when you walk away so easily!
And— and I hate—”
I swallowed, voice trembling.
“I hate that I only realized it when you stopped liking me.”
Y/n stared.
I finally looked at him, eyes glistening, anger melting into something vulnerable. “…I like you, okay?! Happy now?!”
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV – Soft Silence
I didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
Just… stepped closer.
Karina froze. “W-What are you—”
“Say it again,” I whispered.
“Are you insane?! No! I already—”
I leaned forward, smiling softly. “Please?”
Karina’s face turned crimson.
She averted her eyes.
Voice barely audible.
“…I like you.”
“Again.”
She glared. “Don’t push it.”
I laughed.
Then—gently—I reached for her hand.
She didn’t pull away.
“Karina.”
“What.”
“For the record… I still like you too.” Her heart stopped. I squeezed her hand lightly. “And I’m really glad… you finally caught up.”
Karina let out a sharp, breathy laugh, shaking her head. "You're such an idiot, Han Y/n."
We stare into each other’s eyes as our laughter slowly dies down.
⸻
— 🌶️ SPICEEEE INCOMING!!
I simply smiled, that soft, knowing curve of my lips, and shyly leaned in, my hand gently cupping her damp cheek.
Her sharp intake of breath was the only warning before she surged forward, crashing her lips against mine with a desperate, hungry force, her fingers tangling fiercely in the hair at my nape.
The kiss ignited instantly, a raw, messy tangle of tongues and teeth, my other hand sliding down to grip her hip hard, pulling her flush against the sudden, insistent hardness straining against my jeans.
Without breaking the searing connection of their mouths, breathing ragged, I fumbled backwards, blindly guiding her stumbling form through my front door, down the dim hall, and into the quiet sanctuary of my bedroom, my palm burning a path down her spine.
The door clicked shut behind them, muffling the world as my hands slid under Karina’s thighs, hoisting her up.
She wrapped her legs around my waist instantly, grinding down against my erection straining through my jeans.
A low groan ripped from my throat as I stumbled towards the bed. Her back hit the mattress with a soft thud, my body following, pressing her deep into the comforter, our kisses frantic, teeth clashing, tongues tangling wetly.
My hands roamed greedily, tearing at her shirt, desperate for skin, while her nails raked down my back, urging me closer.
She gasped as my fingers found the clasp of her bra, flicking it open with practiced ease, her breasts spilling free into my waiting, hungry mouth.
This I sucked hard on one of her nipples, my other hand roughly kneading her other breast, pinching the peak until she cried out, arching beneath me.
My mouth trailed fire down her stomach, teeth grazing her hip bone as I yanked her jeans and panties down her legs in one swift, impatient motion.
The cool air of the room hit her soaked cunt, making her gasp, but it was instantly replaced by the searing heat of my mouth closing over her.
My tongue plunged deep inside her, lapping at her slick folds with rough, demanding strokes, then circling her clit with relentless pressure.
Karina’s hips bucked wildly off the bed, a guttural cry tearing from her throat.
"Fuck! Y/n, fuck! Like that!" Her fingers twisted in my hair, holding me against her as I devoured her, my tongue fucking her hard and fast.
She felt the orgasm detonate, a white-hot explosion that ripped through her, her body shuddering violently as she ground against my face, soaking my chin.
I pulled back, my lips and chin glistening with her arousal, eyes dark with primal need. I stood, stripping my own clothes off, my cock springing free, the flushed head leaking pre-cum. Karina’s gaze locked onto it, licking her lips unconsciously.
I climbed back onto the bed between her spread legs, the tip of my cock nudging insistently against her swollen, sensitive entrance, slick with her own wetness.
I braced myself over her, my breath ragged, eyes searching hers.
"Karina," I rasped, my voice thick with desire. "Look at me. Are you sure? Do you want this? Really want it?"
Her chest heaved, her dark eyes wide and vulnerable, stripped bare of their usual defenses. She reached up, framing my face with trembling hands.
"Yes," she breathed, the word barely a whisper but filled with absolute certainty. "God, yes, Y/n. I want you. All of you. Now. Please."
I didn't hesitate. With one powerful thrust of my hips, I sheathed myself fully inside her in a single, deep stroke, stretching her, filling her. A choked gasp escaped her lips, part pain, part overwhelming pleasure at the sudden, exquisite fullness.
"Fuck, you feel... perfect," I groaned, my forehead dropping to hers.
She clenched around me, drawing me deeper, her hips lifting to meet mine as I started to move. My thrusts were deep, hard, relentless, each one driving the breath from her lungs, each retreat leaving her aching until I plunged back in.
Skin slapped against skin in the dim room, a raw, primal rhythm underscored by our breathing, low moans, and the creak of the bedsprings. Sweat slicked our bodies as we moved together, a frantic, desperate coupling fueled by years of pent-up longing.
Through the haze of sensation, my hand found hers. I laced our fingers together, gripping tightly, as I pounded into her with increasing ferocity.
She held on just as fiercely, her other hand clawing at my back, her legs locked around my hips, pulling me deeper with every thrust. Our eyes remained locked, a silent, intense conversation passing between them – vulnerability meeting tenderness.
"Look at me," I demanded roughly, thrusting harder, hitting a spot deep inside that made her scream. "Look at me when I fuck you, Karina."
She obeyed, her dark gaze drowning in mine, the intensity almost as overwhelming as the physical sensations tearing through her. I felt her inner walls begin to flutter and clench rhythmically around my cock.
"That's it," I gritted out, my own release coiling tight in my balls, my thrusts becoming erratic, desperate. "Cum all over my cock, Karina. Cum for me. Now."
The command, the feel of me hitting her deepest point relentlessly, the searing connection of our gaze and joined hands, shattered her completely. Her orgasm crashed over her, wave after wave of pure, blinding ecstasy, her body convulsing wildly around my thrusting length.
Her cry was raw, broken, echoing in the room as she clenched down hard, triggering my own release. With a guttural roar, I buried my pumping hot, thick pulses of cum deep inside her, shuddering violently above her as my hips jerked through the climax.
We held onto each other’s hands, knuckles white, bodies fused, riding out the shattering waves together in breathless, sweat-slicked silence.
Our bodies finally stilled, slick with sweat and trembling with the aftershocks, I weight a heavy, welcome anchor pressing Karina deep into the mattress, my softening cock still buried intimately inside her, sticky and warm.
I shifted slightly, groaning as I slipped out, the sudden emptiness making her whimper softly before I gathered her impossibly closer, burying my face in the sweaty crook of her neck where her long black hair clung damply.
"Fuck, Karina," I breathed, my voice rough and wrecked, my hand sliding possessively down the curve of her spine to cup her ass. “You’re so sexy.”
She nuzzled against my jaw, her own fingers tracing lazy circles on my back, her voice thick with exhaustion and satisfaction, "Shut up, Han Y/n," though the slight curve of her lips betrayed her.
We shared one last slow, deep kiss, tasting salt and sex and each other, a silent seal on the tumultuous night, before the profound exhaustion and the warmth of tangled limbs pulled us down into a deep, dreamless sleep.
⸻
— ⛅️ 3rd Person POV - The Next Morning.
It was still early—maybe 4 or 5 a.m.
Soft light from the city slipped through the curtains, brushing gently over the room. Y/n blinked awake first, the quiet steady breathing beside him pulling him fully back to consciousness.
Karina was asleep on his chest, one hand resting lightly over his heartbeat, the blanket pulled lazily over them. It took only a second for him to remember what happened hours ago.
His face warmed, but then softened. He looked down at her—peaceful, hair messy, eyelashes resting against her cheeks. He stayed still, not wanting to ruin the moment.
Until—
She moved.
Her eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the dim room. Then she felt it—warm skin beneath her cheek. And nothing else.
Her eyes widened. She yanked the blanket up to her chin instantly. Her face turned crimson. “W-Wait—!!”
Y/n blinked, eyes meeting hers. “Morning,” he said softly, voice rough from sleep.
Karina’s voice was barely a whisper. “W-We’re—?! You—me— we’re not… wearing… clothes—!!”
Y/n glanced down, then back at her with a tiny amused smile. “Well… we did have the most passionate sex ever last night.”
“Don’t say it out loud!!” she hissed, face on fire as she hugged the blanket tighter.
He laughed softly, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Calm down. I won’t look.”
She glared. “You already looked!”
“Only a little.”
“Han Y/n—!”
“Okay, okay. I’ll stop.”
⸻
— 🫶 Respectful & Gentle.
Y/n carefully slipped out from under the sheets, making sure the blanket stayed securely around her. He stood up — still shirtless, but quickly grabbed his t-shirt and sweatpants from the chair.
Before heading to the corner of the room to change, he paused. “I’ll turn around. You can… get dressed first, okay?”
Karina, clutching the blanket furiously, stared at him—surprised. “You’re… not going to look are you?”
He smirked slightly. “Oh, I want to. But I’d rather not die before breakfast.”
She huffed. “…Good answer.”
He turned his back to her, facing the wall.
Karina slowly exhaled, heart pounding, cheeks still red. She moved quietly, searching for her clothes scattered on the floor.
From the corner of the room, Y/n’s voice floated softly— “Karina.”
“What?”
“You’re okay. Don’t rush.”
Her hands paused. Something warm bloomed in her chest.
⸻
Y/n turned around, now fully dressed. Karina stood by his bed, in one of his oversized shirts and her shorts—hair messy, cheeks pink, but trying to act normal.
He smiled gently. “You look cute.”
She threw a pillow at him. “Shut up.”
He caught it, laughing softly.
Then—
“Want breakfast?”
She hesitated. Then quietly nodded. “…Only because I’m hungry. Not because I like being here.”
Y/n’s smile turned softer. “Right. You just happened to end up in my arms. Under my blanket. Naked.”
“Do you want me to hit you again?”
He chuckled. “I’ll make pancakes.”
⸻
— 🥞 Soft Morning – Breakfast & A Quiet “I Love You”
— ☀️ In The Kitchen – Early Morning Light
The house was still and quiet when they went downstairs. Karina sat at the dining table, wearing his oversized shirt and trying very hard not to look… soft. Y/n stood by the stove, slicking his hair back messily with one hand, while flipping pancake batter in a pan with the other.
He looked calm. Too calm. Karina glared at his back suspiciously. “Why are you so relaxed?”
Y/n glanced over his shoulder. “Because you’re here.”
Her face went warm immediately. She looked away. “S-Stop saying things like that.”
He smiled to himself and kept cooking.
⸻
— 🍯 Little Silences, Little Glances
He placed a plate of pancakes in front of her—golden, fluffy, topped with strawberries. Karina stared at it… then muttered: “…Thanks.”
“And here,” he said, setting a mug beside her. “Warm milk with honey. You don’t like coffee in the morning.”Karina paused, blinked slowly.
She hadn’t realized he remembered that. She picked up her fork, mumbling quietly, “Don’t think this means I like you more or anything.”
Y/n sat across from her, chin in his hand, smiling in that gentle, quiet way he had only around her. “Okay,” he said. “I won’t think that.” But his eyes were shining.
⸻
— 💗 After a Few Bites…
They ate slowly. The air was soft—but nervous. Karina’s cheeks were still pink. Sometimes she’d look at him, then immediately look away when he caught her.
Y/n finally whispered: “Karina.”
Her fork froze midway to her mouth. “What.”
He hesitated. Nervously rubbing his thumb against his palm, he said it—soft and real: “I love you.”
Silence.
Karina’s heart dropped to her stomach. Her cheeks grew hot—eyes wide, lips parted slightly. He didn’t look away.
“I’ve loved you for a long time… but saying it today feels different,” he continued quietly. “Because this time… I know you might actually feel it back.”
Karina set her fork down slowly. Her heart hammered. She looked everywhere—anywhere but his eyes.
“You…” She cleared her throat. “You shouldn’t just say things like that while I’m eating pancakes. I could’ve choked.”
Y/n smiled faintly. “I’m serious.”
Her fingers tightened on her lap. She whispered—barely audible. “…I know.”
⸻
— 🌷 Her Answer (The Karina Way)
She didn’t say it back right away. Instead—she reached forward. And, under the tablecloth, her hand slid across and nervously brushed his.
His eyes widened. She didn’t look at him when she spoke. Her voice was quiet—shaky, but honest: “Eat your pancakes before they get cold.”
Y/n laughed softly—heart full. He linked his pinky with hers beneath the table. “Okay.”
A beat.
Then—
Very, very softly, she whispered, not looking at him: “…And, um… I love you too. So… keep making me breakfast.”
His smile was the brightest it had ever been. And after all that chasing…
synopsis. winter supposedly hates when you tease her—but she hates it even more when your attention is on someone else.
pairing. winter x added!member!reader
warning(s). fluffy, r is a big tease tease, slightly possessive winter, and let me know if there's more!
words. 850 💔
authors note. had to get a req out. im not ignoring them i swear im just lazy & kinda busy. also not a lot of drama im sorry anon :( it was just too cute
navigation. main masterlist. request.
winter was in the middle of a solo live broadcast when you decided to join in through the comments.
at first, you kept it subtle, just sending random emojis and vague messages. but then you saw her sipping on her drink, and you had to say something.
y/n: why do u hold ur cup like that lmao
y/n: so small… like ur hands
winter paused mid-sip, eyes narrowing. “yah,” she muttered, scanning the comments until she found yours. “why are you even here?”
she tried to act unfazed, but the way she adjusted her grip on the cup said otherwise.
y/n: just admiring how cute u look struggling w that big cup
winter choked on her drink. “i am not struggling!” she insisted, wiping her mouth. “this is normal!”
the fans, of course, began eating up the drama. you and winter exchanged quips for a bit, with winter growing more and more flustered each time, much to your entertainment.
y/n: show them ur hands compared to the cup
winter hesitated. “no.”
y/n: pls
she sighed before finally holding up the cup next to her hand.
it was, in fact, way too big for her.
you nearly cackled.
y/n: ohmygod
winter immediately ended the live.
then there was the time during rehearsal when she was trying to focus on a dance move, and you just had to mess with her.
winter is practicing a turn, her expression serious as she concentrates. but the moment she lands and meets your gaze, you give her a slow, exaggerated wink.
she stumbles.
“y/n!” she whines, immediately turning back around to avoid your smug face.
“what?” you ask innocently. “did i distract you?”
“obviously!”
you chuckle, walking up to her. “my bad, my bad. here, try again.”
she eyes you suspiciously but sighs before resetting her stance. you nod encouragingly as she prepares to turn again.
just as she moves—
you poke her side.
she yelps, spinning a little too fast and losing her footing. she goes down in an ungraceful tangle of limbs, glaring up at you from the floor.
you grin sheepishly.
winter is furious.
she’s so easy to mess with—it’s practically a sport at this point.
winter sits cross-legged on the couch in the practice room, scrolling through her phone, completely unaware of your approach. you sneak up behind her and suddenly wrap your arms around her shoulders.
she flinches, almost dropping her phone. “yah!”
“just checking if you’re still ticklish,” you tease, resting your chin on her shoulder.
she wriggles in your hold, huffing. “i’m not—”
you squeeze her sides lightly.
she yelps.
the entire room erupts into laughter. giselle and ningning are practically on the floor.
winter twists around to glare at you, cheeks burning. “i hate you.”
“you love me,” you correct, grinning.
she groans, smacking your arm. “go away!”
it’s supposed to be a casual group live—just you, winter, karina, giselle, and ningning, sitting together promoting the new single and chatting with fans.
and for the past few minutes, you’ve been directing all your teasing at giselle.
“eh, why do you always sit like that?” you laugh, nudging giselle’s shoulder.
she raises an eyebrow. “like what?”
“like you own the place,” you joke. “you sit like a ceo in every live.”
the fans flood the chat with laughing emojis, some agreeing, others spamming “giselle ceo era.”
giselle plays along, smirking. “maybe i do own the place.”
“oh?” you lean in, grinning. “should we start calling you boss?”
winter, sitting beside you, shifts slightly. you don’t notice at first—too focused on the banter with giselle. but the chat certainly does.
winter looks mad lol
minjeong is pouting.
she’s jealous.
meanwhile, you continue teasing. “giselle, say something ceo-like.”
giselle dramatically clears her throat. “you’re all fired.”
the group bursts into laughter, but before you can say anything else, you feel a hand tug at your hoodie.
you barely have time to react before you’re pulled back—right into winter’s side.
you blink, glancing at her. she isn’t looking at you, instead focusing on the screen with a suspiciously neutral expression.
but her grip on your hoodie tightens.
winter pulling y/n helppp.
possessive winter omg.
did she just…
you glance at giselle, who is trying not to smile. ningning and karina look equally amused.
you smile.
“stop teasing giselle,” winter muttered under her breath, and though she tried to sound casual, the possessiveness in her tone wasn’t lost on you.
you bite your lip to keep from laughing. “yeah, okay, fine.”
winter lets go of your hoodie and tries to play it off as nothing, but you know she can still feel the weight of your eyes on her.
you tried your best to stifle your smile, but it was hard not to enjoy the way winter was reacting. she glanced at you from the corner of her eye, but as soon as she saw you looking back, she quickly turned her head away.
synopsis: y/n and minjeong were set to be married off once y/n finished her degree. she and her parents made a deal to maintain the wealth within common grounds, hence marrying the two girls off. but now that y/n was given an estate with the staff and her stewardess, Yu Jimin, and driver, Park Sunghoon, she can’t help but feel trapped in a loveless marriage.
pairing: ceo!minjeong x baker!fem!reader
wc: 9.3k
genre: non!idol au, arranged marriage au, jiminie is a sweetheart here, y/n is friendly to everyone here, angst turned into fluff, soft minjeongie, jealous minjeong, whipped minjeong, explicit smut, fingering, clit play, tit sucking, aftercare... i think thats it
a/n: not proof read... sigh. I loved this fic though... should i make this into a series?
Everyday looked the same. Y/n was in a giant house full of staff bowing every time whenever she walks by, including her wife’s stewardess, Yu Jimin. But her wife is nowhere to be found. Minjeong owned a huge medicine company catered to animals, endearing till Y/n realized it takes up much, if not all, of her time.
Before the two of them were married, Y/n was off studying at NYU before her mother demanded that she goes back to Korea after attending her graduation. She majored in international relations in hopes to become a lawyer and have a stable career in the states.
But through her studying and sleepless nights, she forgot the most important thing: the future marriage. It was the one thing that would cut her off from the rest of the world, capitalizing her to the top with a wife to not be at her side.
She had known Kim Minjeong since they were in diapers. But the two weren’t very close as they only saw each other every year for birthdays. She got a gift for Y/n as Y/n get one for her.
Y/n would talk sometimes but she kept to herself. Someone cold Minjeong was, Y/n thought to herself, it's no wonder why her nickname was Winter. That statement became more truthful the more they spent time together at her family’s house.
Her father and mother were as welcoming as ever, thankful that the scholar was visiting them during the holidays before her last semester. She didn’t have a choice really, her father was on a business trip in Europe while her mother resided in the states to finish her winter collection.
“Why don’t you visit the Kim’s resident?” Y/n's mother asked over the phone.
“I think I’d rather die than see Winter glance over her shoulder to see me.” She scoffed.
“Don’t speak such words against her. You need to open yourself up to her and she will too.”
She tried, or at least she thought she did. Every time at dinner when she asked her what she was studying, where she was studying, anything to start the conversation, she would respond with one to two words as if she couldn’t care less that Y/n was here to see her.
It made the scholar tear up, being away from her family and marrying someone who didn’t want her company. It made her sick to her stomach. She cried that night in the Kim's guest bedroom, murmuring soft calls for her mother like a little girl who scraped her knee.
So here she was now, in the kitchen with the staff. Y/n was often here even though they insisted that she sits down while they cooked her meal(s). But she insisted to help as she had nothing better to do.
Despite the scholar's degree, she was offered not to work. Her mother suggested the idea as she knew her real dream wasn’t to become a lawyer, but rather a baker. But the Lee family didn’t have the money to open another business, so Y/n quietly improved her skills at the manor whenever she felt like it.
"Ma'am, you should not cook and sit down. The smell will cling onto your hair.” A woman's voice rang out.
Yu Jimin. Y/n and Minjeong’s stewardess, the one who looks after the estate, and her wife's best friend. The three of them weren’t actually that far apart in age, but the authority she alludes with her position spoke volumes. Her words were articulate and carefully thought out, making the conversations Y/n would have with her meaningful.
“Jimin, you should know better than the fact that I don’t have any work to do.” Y/n said exasperated.
“Please, take a rest. You’ve been running around all day and I’m sure you’re tired.”
Running around meant her pacing in the wine cellar contemplating if it was worth being in a loveless marriage with Minjeong, if she could even recall the last time she call her that. Winter was never home which made talking to her nearly impossible, calling her felt too intimate so the two just never end up speaking.
But Jimin knew Y/n, she watched over Y/n. She knew where she was all hours of the day, and when she wasn't in her usual spot, she wonders what changed. She didn’t want Y/n to tire herself out physically more than she did emotionally, being the ever so caring girl she is.
Reluctantly, Y/n put down the knife on the cutting board, abiding Jimin's words as she sat down on the table. She heard Jimin yell the cooks to hurry up and to make sure everything was seasoned properly. Y/n couldn’t help but smile at the sound of her voice, knowing she only wanted to make sure everything was perfect for her.
After a while, the cooks came out with the plates. Y/n requested something reminiscent of New York, and so she got what she wanted: pizza and bagels. Her staff spread them out throughout the table as they made many different versions of the foods. They served the woman each thing one by one. She thanked them with a smile as she began dig in.
Jimin watched her quietly, an unknowing smile made its way up to her lips. She wanted this manor to feel a bit more like home, knowing how Y/n was alone for most of her life. The stewardess was about to walk away until her employer called out for her.
“Jimin-ssi.”
Jimin swung her head to her, hands behind her back as she clasped them together while looking at the younger woman.
"Please, sit down and eat with me." Y/n offered, pointing to the chair across from her.
"I shouldn't, ma'am-"
"Stop calling me that, it makes me feel old. I told you to call me Y/n." She cut her off.
Jimin stood still, her stare burning into the table as she avoided Y/n's eyes.
"Please." She pleaded once more, getting up and making Jimin meet her eyes, "Sit and eat with me."
With a request like that, how could she refuse?
She sat down across from Y/n, getting a plate before grabbing a bagel and spreading cream cheese across from it. The two quietly ate for a few minutes, before Y/n began speaking.
"What do you think?" Y/n puts down her bagel.
Jimin continues to chew, "Think about what?"
"Winter."
The house-wife felt like this topic she needs to steer carefully around, one wrong word and Jimin might report back to Minjeong. Before she was their employee, she was her wife's best mate.
Jimin hummed, taking a bite of her bagel. She chewed and swallowed before speaking, "I see you still don't call her by her birth name." She paused, "But, I think there's more to her than meets the eye."
Y/n resisted the urge to roll her eyes, every time she tried to get close, it's like her wife just builds more layers of walls.
Jimin met her eyes, "She's someone who is kind once you get to know her."
"I've tried-" Y/n whined.
"But did you want to? Get to really know her?" Jimin harshly cut off.
That was something that caught Y/n off guard. She spent time with Minjeong out of necessity and having nowhere else to go. But did she ever want to know her wife, as person rather than live up to the title of her wife?
"I'm not trying to make you feel like the bad guy." Jimin put a hand on the table, "I understand you are alone and she is away. You did not spend much time before getting married at a grand ceremony with all your friends and family." She paused again, looking away, "But there was a substance that you weren't willing to give. So she didn't give you any to work with."
That struck a nerve, she had never spoken to the CEO out of pure curiosity, only out of formality. Y/n didn't know how to deal with this. Jimin saw her inner turmoil the moment Y/n looked away from her and stared at her plate, not taking a bite. The stewardess quickly finished her meal before standing up and taking her plate, "I hope you and Mindungie get along soon. You're both two individuals that would enjoy each other if you tried."
And with that, she left. Y/n's staff began to clean up the plates as she ordered them to box them and take them to share with their family and down to a homeless shelter if there was any left. She stood up and went to her room.
It took her a long while to get to her room, the estate was huge, yet conveniently enough, the couple's bedrooms were right across from each other.
Flashback:
It was the day after Y/n and Minjeong had gotten married. It was a beautiful ceremony, but the kiss? Ice cold, her lips were soft, but felt cold against Y/n's. The two had slept in the same bed, but there was an awkward gap between the two, like Minjeong was deliberately trying to avoid ever touching Y/n as if she were the fire to her ice.
The two were in the backseat of the black Range Rover, sitting on opposite sides from each other. Minjeong was to the right, Y/n was to the left. They were now in their normal, everyday attire.
"We're here." Sunghoon, their driver, announced.
The two women quietly thanked him, Minjeong got out of the car first, not offering any hand to Y/n. Not that she cared.
Y/n looked at the estate, it was breathtaking. It was big, bigger than any home she had ever seen. And she was supposed to live here, for the rest of her life?
Jimin opened the door, waving to the two. Minjeong perked up, running to her, Y/n awkwardly following behind her speed-walking. The puppy-like girl crashed into Jimin with a bone crushing hug, the two greeting each other.
"What are you doing here?" Minjeong asked, pulling away with a smile of disbelief.
"Well… I'm your stewardess." Jimin replied.
Minjeong looked at her with confusion, head slightly tilted to the side. Y/n coughed, "She's the person who will be looking over our estate."
The black-haired girl nodded, sheepishly rubbing the back of her neck. Jimin chuckled, "Yes. So I will from now on be looking after the two of you very closely, along with your staff."
"Staff?!" The two girls yelled in unison.
"Y/n's family actually arranged the staff, while yours bought this estate. Welcome home, ladies." Jimin extended the door open for the two to get the sight of the interior. It was huge, Y/n smiled and ran inside, excited to pick out a room like a little girl again.
Minjeong followed loosely behind, quietly conversing with Jimin. Y/n ran upstairs, seeing all the big rooms. The first door she opened was the bathroom, beautiful as everything else in her new home. But the second one opened to a king-sized bedroom. Y/n went to the two, "I'll take this room." She pointed down the hall.
Minjeong nodded, brushing past her to the direction of her room. Minjeong went inside the room across from her, another king-sized bedroom. It was a bit bigger than Y/n's, nonetheless she silent chose it. This made her wife groan internally, Jimin already sensing the tension between the two.
Now, Y/n was in her bathroom getting ready for her night shower. She stripped her clothes and slipped into the steaming hot shower. These moments were times that she reflected upon her day, when she had anything to reflect on anyway.
The water cascaded down her hair, remembering her first interaction with Minjeong as a young adult. Jimin was right. There was no substance behind her questions, they were surface level at best. Y/n felt bad now for her harsh attitude towards Minjeong, her wife had every reason to act the way she does. But now, even more so due to her seven days a week work schedule.
Y/n continued to rinse her hair with shampoo and conditioner, doing her nightly routine before going down to the kitchen. Her feet padded along the wood flooring as she went downstairs. Today she was going to try to make some gingerbread cookies as the holidays were coming up. She figured a bit of practice wouldn't hurt.
All their staff had gone home except for Jimin who resides in one of the bedrooms on the second floor with Winter and Y/n.
Y/n was now in the kitchen, tying a pink apron around her waist as she began pulling out some ingredients. Flour, eggs, sugar, and everything she needed to make gingerbread cookies. She loved them during this time of year, she planned on making some gifts for the staff to thank them for their hard work. What better gift than through the love language of food?
The baker got to work, measuring everything according to the recipe she found online. She rolled out the dough, flour on her face as she stuck out her tongue in concentration. Carefully, she placed down the cookies one by one without breaking them. She already ordered some icing to decorate and was hoping they'll arrive by the time the cookies were done.
The door opened, feeling alarmed she went to go check on who it was. When she stepped outside, she saw her wife closing the door and taking off her shoes.
"Oh." Y/n said, quickly turning her back to the kitchen, praying Winter would just go on with her night.
But no, she didn't. She followed after Y/n, "Expecting someone?" Minjeong saw the spread of baking supplies on the kitchen. Flour and sugar on one kitchen counter, flour spread across the kitchen island, and some leftover dough in a plastic wrap.
Y/n stuttered out, "J-Just the delivery."
Minjeong nodded, continuing to look around and saw the oven light was turned on. She set down her bag and went over to the oven, kneeling down, "You're making… cookies?"
"It's nothing, just gingerbread." Y/n dismissed, putting away the flour and sugar.
Minjeong was about to say how she didn't know her wife could bake, but then again, she didn't know anything about her. Winter got up, "I'm gonna go shower. Can we decorate the cookies together?" She asked, puppy dog eyes apparent.
Y/n felt her breath hitch at the sight of Minjeong's eyes so big and filled with stars. She didn't expect her to be so giddy over the idea of… decorating cookies. Nonetheless she accepted, "Yeah, we can."
Minjeong smiled, nodding as she ran upstairs to go shower. Y/n turned to the open, feeling her cheek flush further pursing her lips. She had never taken a good look at Minjeong until now, and her heart was racing at how bright her eyes looked. Now her body is tense, anticipating her appearence out of her work clothes and into her home clothes. She let out a breath, attempting to calm herself and check her phone: fifteen more minutes till the cookies were done, ten more minutes till delivery was supposed to arrive.
She reminisce how Minjeong looked coming home, realizing how she never looked at her properly till now. And at that moment, she looked good enough to eat. At that sudden thought, she turned back to the stove that emitted an orange light, hoping it covers her flushed cheeks.
Y/n continued cleaning up, putting the leftover dough in the fridge for another day as she was now wiping down the marble counters. Afterwards, she rummaged through the cabinets, looking for a cooling rack. She groaned to herself as she shuffled around the kitchen quickly before hearing the doorbell ring.
The scholar went to go open it, seeing the delivery guy, "Kim… Y/n?"
She nodded, about to hand him cash but an arm wrapped around her waist. She looked over her shoulder, seeing Minjeong. What she didn't notice was the $100 she handed him as a tip. Y/n couldn't look at her face directly, hearing the delivery driver saying bye before quickly making his way off the estate.
Winter held the bag of icing, her arm slowly letting go of Y/n's waist as she made her way back to the kitchen. Y/n closed the door, reminiscing the warmth Minjeong's arm held. She slowly made her way to the kitchen, hoping the dim light of the house covered her scarlet cheeks.
Y/n quickly pulled out the cookies, setting them down a piece of cloth to prevent any damage to the marble.
"What can I do to help?" Minjeong asked.
Y/n paused, "Do you know where the cooling rack is? I can't find it."
Minjeong nodded, opening a cabinet near the microwave, pulling out the cooling rack. She looked at it, then back at her wife, "This one?"
Y/n tried to not look surprised, grabbing it from Minjeong's hand and muttered a 'thanks.' She grabbed a spatula and transferred the cookies, feeling the heat under her wife's gaze. The housewife tried to not let it get to her, but she only felt her face grow hotter.
Trying to distract herself from the feeling, she decided to talk, "You're home later than usual." Y/n mutters, transferring the last cookie onto the rack, careful for it not to crack.
Minjeong hummed, "I didn't realize you knew when I came back to the estate."
Estate. She didn't call it a home, but rather the estate. Noting her choice of words, Y/n kicked herself more than she already did before, "Of course I do. The door rattles across the house."
Minjeong smiled at her words, "How long do we have to wait for them to cool?"
Y/n looked at the time: 9:32 p.m.
It was 9:30 when she took them out the oven and 9:31 when she started transferring them to the rack, "Three more minutes." She responded.
Minjeong nodded, looking at her hands, "You never baked before."
Y/n chuckled, "I did a long time ago before uni. I wanted to start again as I don't work." Winter waited for Y/n to continue, listening intently to her words, "You know what my degree is and where I studied. But I only did that out of reputation of my family." She trailed off, "My real passion had always been baking but my father never approved, saying it was a pipe dream. So I ended up studying to become a lawyer, but our union between our families saved me from the office… giving me more time to bake."
Minjeong took her words in with a serious expression, choosing her words carefully, "I understand. We need to prove ourselves before having our parents approval to pursue what we really want." She pursed her lips, looking up at Y/n.
"So did you want to do medicine?" Y/n asked.
"Yes and no." Minjeong tapped the marble counter, blue nail polish on her fingernails, "I thought I wanted to take over my father's company. But I'm not very good at tech, so I just settled for animal medicine."
"Do you like animals?"
"I love them… more than anything. But I never had any pets growing up, always having to settle for friends dogs and cats. I love dogs more though."
They both chuckled at her words. Y/n kept that in mind.
"I love dogs too…" Y/n trailed off, finally meeting Minjeong's eyes.
Her wife looked too tempting right now, short hair, pajamas that reveals her chest but not to the point where she could see her cleavage.
The bell dinged, cookies were done cooling. Minjeong ran over next to Y/n, suddenly making her wife aware of their proximity. She looked down, taking a piping bag and began to decorate.
The two stayed like that, decorating and laughing at off-hand comments they would make about their cookies. Y/n went for a classic white outline, her wife on the other hand was trying to do something silly.
"Is that…" Y/n trailed off, smiling as she tried to make of Minjeong's messy icing.
Minjeong swatted her, "Yah! I'm trying my best!" She whined.
Y/n could only giggle at her wife's antics. They continued to decorate until all the cookies were covered with an icing pattern. They both smiled at their creations.
Minjeong sighed, leaning on the counter, "That was so much work! And I only decorated… How are you not tired?"
Y/n let out a cackle, "Because baking gives me gains." She jokingly flexes, making Minjeong laugh. Y/n looked at Minjeong, "Do you wanna try them now?"
Minjeong jumped back up, nodding with bright eyes as they both picked one up. Y/n was about to take a bite before seeing Minjeong was holding her cookie while looking at her. The baker tilted her head in confusion, before realizing that her wife wanted to cling their cookies together.
"Jjan!" The two said, taking a bite.
Minjeong took a bite, her tastebuds were singing. She sighed happily, chewing as she savored the gingerbread cookie with mirth. She looked back at her wife, seeing her chew mindlessly while spacing out.
Minjeong waved her hand in front of her, "You okay?"
Y/n smiled, "Yeah. Just wondering if these are good enough to give to our staff and the children around the neighborhood."
Minjeong was stunned by her words, "Of course they are."
Y/n looked up at Minjeong, the two just stared at each other for a while. Y/n's heart was unexpectedly beating faster at their closeness, she felt the ceo's warmth radiating off her body without even touching her. The two pulled away quickly, "We should go to bed." Y/n whispered.
"Yeah, do you wanna wrap these first?" Minjeong pointed to the cookies.
Y/n nodded, the two silently wrapped each cookie, tying the top with a silk string. Minjeong noticed the tags on the table, "Did you want to write something for each of them?"
Her wife looked at her, then at the tags on the counter, "Ah… Just a thanks for their help. It's not easy being a cook even if they are getting paid well."
Minjeong nodded, grabbing one for each bag and writing a 'thank you' on each of them for them to see tomorrow morning. They had eight cooks, so eight bags in total.
There was three leftover, Minjeong grabbed another one to eat. Just as she was about to put it in her mouth, Y/n grabbed her wrist. The contact of skin blossomed heat across Minjeong's already hot body. She looked over at the girl who held a hesitant expression, "I was… gonna wrap one for Jiminie too."
Jiminie. That left a bitter taste in Minjeong's mouth, how comfortable Y/n was with Jimin when she was her wife. But nonetheless she responded, "Oh. Okay."
Y/n looked at Minjeong then at the cookie in her hand, "You can eat that one though."
She smiled, munching down the cookie as she watched Y/n wrap the last few cookies in the last bag.
—
It was the next day. Y/n woke up in her bed in a much better mood after her night with Minjeong. It felt like a weight lifted off her shoulders.
She got out of bed, brushed her teeth and showered, getting ready for the day. She made her way down, breakfast already served hot and ready, salmon and rice. Y/n ate it as her staff began cleaning up for lunch. She saw them snacking on the gingerbread she made, well, me and Minjeong made.
She choked on her food at the sudden thought, Jimin quickly shuffling to help her, "You okay?" Her stewardess patted the scholar's back.
She nodded, continuing to slowly eat, "Have you eaten yet?"
"Oh, milady, the sun rises not too long after I do." She leaned against a chair next to Y/n, "I make myself breakfast."
"You cook?"
"Not too much, but enough."
Jimin eventually sat down next to Y/n, the two quietly conversing among each other. Y/n laughed at a joke Jimin said when Minjeong walked down to leave. Minjeong paused, listening to her wife's laugh. Realizing how she never made Y/n laugh. She walked down, her heels clicking against the wood floor loudly as she made her way out the door.
Y/n heard, she quickly got up and ran, "Hey!"
The raven-haired woman stopped, turning her heels to face Y/n, "What?"
Her wife was taken aback by her tone, "The staff made you lunch." She grabbed it from the kitche counter and brought it to Minjeong, "I didn't realize you were still here."
Minjeong looked at the lunch before taking it, "Thanks." She met Y/n's eyes, her head still down though, "I usually leave earlier." She paused, "I guess I just took my time today."
Without another word, Minjeong opens the door and leaves. Y/n looks at the closed door, Jimin walking up behind her. She chuckled, "You guys talking?" Y/n turned to her, "When did that happen?"
Y/n walked away, cleaning up her breakfast plate, "It's nothing. Can't a wife talk to her partner?"
"Don't be so dismissive," she walked after Y/n, "If it makes you feel better, you two make a cute couple."
Y/n turned on the water, washing her plate, "We made cookies, last night."
"I didn't know you bake."
Y/n smiled, "It's all I knew once."
"So, what's the story?"
Y/n told Jimin all of it, how it initially started with just her and then Minjeong came home and joined her in decorating. Jimin noticed how Y/n was smiling the whole time while she told her about the two of them.
"And now." Y/n sighed, "She's cold again."
"Don't be so brash." Jimin paused, "You witnessed her jealous."
Y/n finished washing, "Over what?"
"Well, she clearly heard us talking before she left." Y/n blushed, realizing the volume of her voice that Minjeong most likely heard, "So, take that how you will."
And just like that, Jimin left. Now, Y/n was left in her own thoughts. She didn't like this, this feeling of uncertainty of her feelings. So she does what she did best, bake.
Y/n decided to make brownies this time. She called Sunghoon and got into the vehicle. Sunghoon turned to Y/n, black suit, red tie, and hat to top it off, "The grocery store, ma'am?"
"Stop referring me as ma'am, call me Y/n. We aren't that far a part in age Sunghoon."
Sunghoon laughed, "You and your wife are my boss. It feels weird to hear that out loud. But okay, Y/n."
It was a long drive as the estate was located in the mountains, away from the city. So Sunghoon decided to speak, "You haven't been out the house in weeks. What changed your mind?"
"I need to bake." She responds.
"Need?
Y/n furrowed her eyebrows, "It's nothing. I just want to be busy."
Sunghoon didn't press on any further, moving onto a different topic.
"How did you get this job? Why did you want this?" She asked.
"I always wanted to be a race car driver." He said, his hat slightly falling down as he pushed it back up, "Like F1 type."
"So why are you driving here, instead of the race track?"
"Father didn't approve of it. Said I needed to make a stable salary and not chase for something that's not for people like me."
Y/n hummed, nodding, "I can relate. I wanted to be a baker before I studied in the states to become a lawyer."
"Y/n, with all due respect, you still could be a baker. Your father isn't here anymore."
It's true, Y/n could easily open up a bakery and pursue her dream. What was holding her back was her lack of her own recipes. She was experimenting as she was learning.
Sunghoon stopped at the grocery store, Y/n spoke up, "Guess I'm too afraid to fail my dream before starting it."
Her driver got out, running to the other side of the car and opened it. He held his hand out, Y/n took it and got out. Y/n thanked him, "Why don't you grocery shop with me?"
"Y/n, that's not in my job description-"
"As friends, Sunghoon. And as your boss, I say you're currently on break."
Sunghoon smiled, his charming vampire-like teeth showing, "I guess when you put it that way, I can't argue."
Sunghoon took off his hat, opening the drivers seat and tossed it on there. He ran back to Y/n, carrying her bag as they made their way inside the grocery store.
She carefully picked out some ingredients in the gourmet section, Sunghoon following closely behind with a basket.
"What are you making today, boss?" Sunghoon asked as she tossed another flour in the basket.
"Brownies. You should come into the house sometime." She said as she picked up a bottle of vanilla extract.
"House? Ma'am, you and your wife have a whole manor under your wing." He laughed.
"And? Does that change the conditions of my request?"
"I suppose not, after all I live there too."
It wasn't only Jimin who lived there, but also Sunghoon and some other younger staff who didn't have family did too. But Sunghoon was the most ghostly out of the bunch as he is rarely ever seen walking in there.
"I hope to see you around more often." She says, tossing in some vanilla extract.
The two continued to talk as Y/n shopped, she even asked Sunghoon if he wanted her to make anything in specific. The question made him flush as it's not everyday your boss is young, beautiful, and the same age as him.
"How about tiramisu?" He asked, trying not to smile.
Y/n thoughtfully tapped her finger on her chin, "Okay, let me get a few more things then."
An hour had passed now as the two now were at the checkout. Y/n paid as Sunghoon held everything for her, carrying out the bags to the car. The baker got into the car while her driver opened the trunk and carefully put all the bags inside.
He closed the trunk and made his way to the drivers seat and drove them back to the estate.
—
It was now lunch time, the cooks gathered in the kitchen again and began cooking. The handsome chauffeur just stopped the car, quickly getting out to open the trunk before Y/n could.
"Let me-"
"It's okay, milady." He casually brushed off, "Allow me to carry the heavy things."
She sighed in defeat and walked inside, Sunghoon following behind.
Y/n was met with sounds of clatter and Jimin's voice ringing out again, "The lady requested a meal overseas!" She yelled as she walked to the door, "Greetings milady, Sunghoon." The two bowed to each other.
"I'll just put these away." Sunghoon said, shuffling away.
Jimin looked at Y/n, "Change then come down."
The younger woman nodded as she went upstairs, changing out of her outside clothes and into her home clothes. She sighed in happiness as she felt the tight fabric slipping away and the loose fabric clinging on.
Y/n made her way downstairs, an array of pasta and bread on the table. She smiled happily as she grabbed a plate and grabbed herself a variety of food. Not too long after, some of the staff sat down along with Jimin and Sunghoon.
Sunghoon was about to pull the chair next to Y/n, but he felt anxious and ended up sitting a chair away from her. Y/n noticed this, and pulled the chair out next to her which grabbed Sunghoon's attention.
Sunghoon looked at the chair then at Y/n, who had hopeful eyes, Sunghoon slid next to her. Now, Jimin and Sunghoon were on either sides of Y/n, eating as they quietly conversed.
"Did you both see the cookies I made on the counter?" She inquired, lifting a forkful of pasta into her mouth.
"Yes." The two answered.
"It was a kind gesture, Y/n." Jimin said.
"It was delicious, thank you." Sunghoon added on, taking a bite of salad.
They all ate, any leftovers Y/n asked the staff to pack and donate to the nearest homeless shelter.
Y/n looked at the time on her watch.
2:43 p.m.
Y/n patted a napkin on her face and got up, she quietly bid Sunghoon and Jimin a 'goodbye' before going into the now empty kitchen. She was going to put her baking stuff away when the staff already did that for her, she let out an airy laugh before exploring the estate.
She did this sometimes when she was bored, she was going to bake but that was more of a night activity for someone like Y/n. She went to the different bathrooms that she had never thought of using, the empty bedrooms, some staff bedrooms that she didn't want to open.
It went on like this for a good thirty minutes until she came across one room she's never been in.
Minjeong's study.
It was one of the rooms she never wanted to go in. She always perceived her wife being cold and being in a room that has only ever been filled with her presence had made Y/n queasy. Until last night, she feared Minjeong's disapproving eyes.
Now, she couldn't help but feel curious. She placed her hand on the handle and twisted it, opening the door.
Inside there wasn't a lot, white walls and contrasting grey shelves. What caught Y/n's attention was the photo behind her. It was her and her family as a child, nobody was smiling. A traditional family portrait, but Y/n couldn't help but coo over how tiny Minjeong was.
She sat down on her desk chair, "Relatively comfy…" She mumbled as she scanned her desk space. It was the usual desk setup until she noticed the photo frame on her right.
It's us… Y/n thought.
A photo of her and Y/n's wedding, Y/n couldn't deny that it was the best she had ever looked in her life. But to have their wedding photo on her desk was unexpected, let alone one where they kissed.
I need to leave.
But before she could, someone knocked.
Y/n quickly stood up and saw Jimin's frame. She let out a sigh of relief, "What are you doing?"
"I could ask you the same thing." The stewardess retorted, "Why are you in her office? You've never even been in this hall."
"How would you know that, Jiminie?"
Jimin laughed, "When you spend every day with your boss, you memorize their routine. And I promise you, I am very attentive."
Y/n felt herself smile at Jimin's words, "I was just curious… She spends so much time here whenever she isn't at work."
"So you weren't freaking out over the photo she has of the two of you?
"You knew?!"
Jimin laughed loudly, "Of course I did! I'm her best friend."
Y/n pouted, "Okay well can we continue this elsewhere so I don't get caught being here?"
Jimin opened the door wider for Y/n and let her walk out first, following shortly after.
Y/n and Jimin went downstairs to the living room so they could be in a more private setting. The two sat down at a respectable distance away from each other, Y/n brought a pillow over her lap.
"How long?" She started.
"Huh?" Jimin furrowed her eyebrows.
"How long?"
Jimin scratched the back of her neck, "I'm not sure." She looked up at Y/n, "I went into her study to discuss some things about her schedule and saw it. It was a few months ago, I didn't ask about it knowing that she wouldn't want to talk about it."
Y/n sighed, "I don't know how to feel about all this."
"So let's talk about something else then, milady."
And so they did, the two quietly reminiscent about their college days. How life was so simple then, how their professors were, random stories, and how they missed their friends.
"So why don't we invite them over for Christmas with our families?" Jimin asked. The question made Y/n smile, nodding.
The two eventually parted ways. Y/n went to go shower and do everything she needed to do before baking.
She dried her hair before going downstairs, a few yawns escaping her lips as she made her way into the kitchen. She pulled out what she needed and got to work.
Minjeong came home earlier during Y/n's shower and went to her room to change and do work. She opened the door to her study and sat down.
She booted up her computer and took out some paperwork from the office. The ceo groaned at the thought of continuing to do work at home but she wanted the comfort of her office here. The raven-haired girl got to work, fingers rapidly tapping on the keyboard as she wrote down some notes to take back from the office.
She had been working on a her sponsors with local clinics in her hometown, Busan. It was unfortunate that she owned a medical company for animals yet she didn't have a furry companion of her own. Minjeong longed for a puppy running around the house, but alas she isn't here half the time so how could she take care of them?
She rolled away from her desk and stood up, deciding to head downstairs to get some water. But when she closed her office door, the smell of chocolate invaded her nose.
She's baking… again.
Minjeong smiled at the pleasant smell as she went downstairs, seeing Y/n sitting on the couch. Her wife turned her head to look at her, "I didn't hear you come home."
"You were showering." Minjeong responds.
Y/n nodded, pursing her lips, "Did you smell my brownies?" She asked, getting up to go to the kitchen to check on them.
"Yes, I was gonna get water but now I wanna try your brownies." She met Y/n's eyes, "If I can…"
Y/n smiled with disbelief, "Why wouldn't I let you try them?"
She opened the oven door, baking gloves in both hands as she took out the brownies. The chocolatey dessert looked decadent, making Minjeong's mouth water.
"Have you eaten?" Y/n asked, "Dinner, I mean."
Minjeong shook her head no. Y/n immediately covered the brownies in tinfoil, "You should sit down, I'll cook you something. These brownies need to cool anyway."
"Can I help?" She asked, suddenly feeling shy.
"No, just sit down on one of the kitchen chairs. I won't take long, promise." She assured.
Minjeong listened to Y/n and sat down. She watched Y/n's swift movements in the kitchen.
Y/n rapidly chopped up some kimchi and threw some rice in a pan with some butter and soy sauce. She felt productive for the first time today, maybe she should give her cooks a day off tomorrow. It would give her a reason to wake up in the morning.
She felt a blush creeping up on her neck under Minjeong's gaze. She didn't bring her phone with her, and her wife never looked out in space. Y/n forced herself not to think about it and just cook.
Eventually, a plate was put out in front of Minjeong. Y/n made bugogi kimchi fried rice with a fried egg on top.
The puppy-like girl looked up at Y/n, "Thank you." Minjeong said before grabbing her chopsticks and digging in.
Y/n tried to not anticipate her reaction, pretending to look efficient as she cleaned up and wiped down the counters.
She felt a weight lifted off her shoulders at Minjeong happily smiled as she continued eating. Y/n could now clean up with a clear state of mind.
"If you can cook as good as you did for me… Maybe we don't need our cooks after all." Minjeong murmured as she chewed.
"I don't think I can cook as much as they do." Y/n blushed, "But I can learn. I did the same with baking."
Minjeong was gonna say something but she bit her tongue. Y/n noticed her timid expression, putting the pieces together, "I know I should work-"
"What? No." Minjeong said, "The company… it's under control. And money… we don't need any more of it."
Her response made Y/n's eyes widen, she didn't expect her to push back on her. Y/n swallowed, anticipating Minjeong's response. Her wife sighed, "I like that you want to pursue what you want. I didn't know what that was before yesterday… you looked so happy whenever you pulled out those cookies. A smile that genuine is rare in the office."
"Are you trying to butter me up to try to get a bite of these brownies?" She teased, grinning.
"W-What? No! Of course not." Minjeong stuttered, "I…I'm just being honest."
Y/n hummed, Minjeong finishing her plate and putting it in the sink. Y/n went over to clean up but an arm was put in front of her, "I can handle one plate." The ceo chuckled.
The baker stepped back, opening a drawer to grab a knife. She went back to her brownies and began cutting.
Y/n cut out two pieces, Minjeong's frame towering over her. Y/n looked up, her breath hitched.
She's too close.
Y/n looked away, trying to catch her breath as she breathed out, "Have one."
Minjeong grabbed one of the brownies, waiting for Y/n to pick hers up. Her wife looked over, seeing Winter's soft eyes. The two quietly cheers before taking a bite.
-
It went on like that for a couple of weeks. But instead of having the cooks come over to their home so early, Y/n cooked instead. She first made breakfast and lunch for Minjeong everyday for a few weeks. It became a dynamic between them, Y/n cooking and teasing Minjeong, anticipating for her cute reaction.
It's no wonder why Jimin liked to tease Winter so much.
Their interactions were getting friendlier, but Y/n couldn't help but feel like there's still an unspoken amount of distance between them. She now craves Minjeong's presence, along with her warm touch.
She still hadn't forgotten how Winter's arm was around her waist. That was the last time she had touched her, so tonight she would do something different.
She booted up the TV above the fireplace in the living room tonight. Y/n didn't know exactly what was Minjeong's favorite movie or what she even wanted to watch so she figured she would ask when her wife got home.
She made popcorn, got every snack in the convenience store without being recognized, and made a few of Minjeong's favorite baked goods. She attempted to make a fire, not bothering to ask for help as all the staff was relaxing in their room.
But Jimin came down, seeing Y/n struggle to get the fire started.
"Having trouble?" Jimin asked.
Y/n shrieked at the sudden voice, making Jimin snicker.
Y/n huffed, "No."
Jimin gave her a knowing look, going down and putting a few logs in and made the fire. Y/n was fascinated when Jimin lit it up, gasping in surprise as she saw the orange flame.
"Thank you!" Y/n exclaimed, throwing her arms around her neck tightly. Jimin froze at the sudden closeness, but squeezed Y/n's waist in return. Y/n closed her eyes, "What would I do without you?"
Then, the door opened. Minjeong's eyes landed on Jimin and Y/n embracing each other. The two immediately jumped apart hearing the door creak.
Their stewardess bowed, "I'll leave you two now."
The black-haired girl made her way back up, making Y/n jog over to her wife. Minjeong almost took a step back, but her mind was telling her otherwise.
"Go shower, we're watching a movie." Y/n said, expression unreadable as she pulled Minjeong away from the door and shut it.
Winter swallowed, nodding before going upstairs and freshening up. She felt her heart ache weirdly after seeing how tightly Y/n was embracing her best friend.
That should be me…
Minjeong washed her worries away with hot water, but the image of her wife and best friend didn't leave her mind, if anything, it made her feel more bitter.
She changed into a fresh hot clothes that Y/n washed that day and went downstairs. Y/n was sitting on the couch, fireplace was warm, and an array of candy and snacks were spread across the table. She sat down next to her.
"What movie do you want to watch?" Minjeong asked, grabbing some popcorn and popping it into her mouth.
"I was gonna ask you that…" She murmured.
Winter couldn't help but chuckle, "Let's watch Tenet then."
She grabbed the remote and turned it on. Minjeong sat back down and got comfortable but now is suddenly aware of Y/n's presence. Her heart raced as she realized how her shoulder brushed hers, how warm she felt, how smooth her skin felt, it made her huff before watching the movie, flustered by her wife's presence.
"You seem very chummy with Jimin unnie." Minjeong mutters.
Her comment made Y/n turn her head away from the screen, "Chummy? What are you, British?"
Minjeong scoffs, "Don't change the topic. When did you and her become so…"
"Close?" Y/n finishes.
Her wife nods, her cold demeanor suddenly turned back into her shy, timid self. This image made Y/n laugh, "You're just… so cute." She slipped out.
Her words made the two of them blush, making Y/n cough, "Jimin helps me around the house. Keeps me company. She's very… endearing."
Minjeong sighed, but Y/n carried on, "But she isn't the one I look forward baking every night with."
The two stared at each other, the movie now playing in the background, long forgotten. Their gaze was electric, attraction was at an all time high. Y/n's gaze flickered to Minjeong's lips, making Minjeong move the snacks between them in the couch and lean in.
Their lips connected, making Y/n sigh. Winter's lips were no longer cold, but warm and inviting. Y/n wrapped her arms around Minjeong's neck, making her wife wrap her arms around Y/n's waist. Their lips moved languidly against each other, the warm radiating off each other was much hotter than the fire in the living room.
Y/n tried pulling away, but Minjeong kept chasing her lips making her giggle, "Minjeong- I can't- breathe." She said between the kisses.
Minjeong finally pulled away, the two breathing heavily as they tried to catch their breath. The movie still playing in the background, long forgotten. Y/n laid her head on the Minjeong's shoulder while Minjeong's arms were still loosely wrapped around her wife. They didn't speak, processing what just happened.
I kissed her… Y/n thought.
She couldn't help but let out a giggle, making Minjeong suddenly pull away but Y/n didn't let her, "I'm sorry it's just. We're doing everything the wrong order."
Minjeong laughed, "You… aren't wrong. And, I think I need to apologize." Winter held her tighter, "You have every right to talk to Jimin… and I need to be here more I realized the more time we spend together." This made Y/n pull away from Minjeong, but her arms still kept them close. Minjeong cleared her throat, "We've never had a proper date. I mean outside our home."
"Is it…" Y/n trailed off, "Home?"
Minjeong slowly leaned in and place her lips against Y/n's again, "It is now."
Y/n let out a sigh of relief as she pressed herself against Minjeong before their lips made contact again. Their breasts were pressed against each other as Y/n pulled away momentarily to straddle Minjeong before putting their lips together again. Their heartbeats were beating in rhythm together as their feelings have finally exploded after all this time.
Minjeong lifted Y/n's shirt enough to caress her smooth skin underneath as Y/n tangled her hair in Winter's hair. Minjeong poked her tongue out, making the baker open her mouth as their tongues connected. Their hot breath made the room feel smaller, making it feel like euphoria.
Slowly, Minjeong pulled away, her eyes all soft as she tugged Y/n's shirt. Her wife realized what she wanted, but pecked her lips, "Let's go upstairs."
She stood up, their hands connected still. Minjeong slowly got up as the shorter girl led her upstairs. The taller woman was entranced by Y/n, unable to take her eyes off her let alone be able to breathe properly.
When they reached the second floor, Y/n opened the door to Minjeong's bedroom. She let go of her hand and laid down on her bed. Minjeong closed the door behind her before making her way to Y/n and connect their lips again.
She momentarily pulled away to look into Y/n's eyes, slightly asking for permission. Instead of Y/n nodding, she slipped her shirt off, her breasts already in display.
Winter's mouth almost drooled at the sight, turning her velvet. She placed her hand on her wife's boobs before kneading them softly, making Y/n sigh happily.
Not wanting Y/n to feel self concious, Minjeong also took off her shirt before delving back into her chest. She wrapped her pink lips around her wife's right nipple, making her squeal in surprise. She languidly sucked as she began circling her tongue around her areole as she played with her other breast, pulling and rubbing.
Y/n let out moan after moan, feeling overwhelmed by the sensations on her chest that she started to squirm. Minjeong's touch felt so warm, it made her heart pound. The whimpers Y/n let out started making Minjeong smirk against her chest as she untied the strings of her sleep shorts, "Can I take these off?"
Y/n nodded, "Please." She whined.
Minjeong closed her eyes, letting out a breath, "I wanna make you beg, but I'm too impatient tonight." Her words muffled
Minjeong tore off Y/n's shorts, her panties still on her body as they clang onto her wet pussy. She started kissing down Y/n's neck, sucking lightly on the skin and making bruises. She made her way down her body, trailing her lips down the valley of her breasts before stopping at her panties.
She looked up, eyes full of adoration and lust. Y/n whined as she bucked her hips, making Minjeong grab her harshly, "You're so desperate." She planted kisses and love bites over her the waistline of her panties, marking her everywhere now.
Winter pulled her wife's panties to the side before licking her slit. Y/n let out a girlish moan, gripping Minjeong's silk white bed sheets. Minjeong never stopped her ministrations as she slowly took off Y/n's panties, leaving her naked and bare beneath her.
Minjeong pulled away, also taking off her pants and panties before hooking Y/n's thighs over her shoulders. She began licking her clit, her tongue circling it before an intentional suck that made let out a loud moan.
Minjeong slipped her finger into Y/n's entrance as she sucked on her clit, making her thrash. Winter gripped her hips to prevent them from bucking into her mouth as she focused on her clit while adding another one of her fingers, thrusting inside and out. Feeling her velvet heat produce more slick, the smell made her head spin, making her let out a moan against Y/n, sending vibrations through her body.
Y/n couldn't keep her sounds muffled no matter how hard she tried, it was like her body yielded for Minjeong. The sensation of her mouth and fingers on her pussy made her feel so much pleasure. Eventually, a knot began to form in her stomach. She continued to moan and whimper as the sensation became stronger, trying to squirm away from Minjeong.
"Winter, I-" A moan cut Y/n off, "I'm gonna…"
Her thighs began to shake as Minjeong withdrew her fingers but is now thrusting her tongue in and out her hole. Minjeong wrapped her arms around her thighs as she increased her pace. Y/n let out a loud moan before cumming.
Minjeong began drinking her cum, some of it sticking on her chin as Y/n came down from the clouds. Her wife wrapped her lips around her hole, sucking greedily of her release. The sensation made Y/n feel overstimulated, making her sob.
Winter came back up to Y/n and kissed her, Y/n moaned as she tasted herself on her wife's lips, "You okay?" Minjeong asked, wondering if she went too far.
Her wife just nodded, wrapping her arms around her, "Sleep with me."
Minjeong smiled at her wife who is now acting clingy. She pressed a kiss on her temple, "C'mon, let's clean up."
Y/n didn't get up, still trying to catch her breath and calm down as Minjeong already made her way to the bathroom connected to her room. The black-haired girl turned on the bath, making sure it wasn't too hot. She waited a few minutes before the tub was full enough.
Winter walked back to her bed, seeing Y/n's eyes closed. She couldn't help but chuckle to herself, leaning over her wife's sleepy figure. She poked her cheek, "I'm gonna carry you to the bath now, okay?"
Y/n nodded as Minjeong slipped her arms behind her body, lifting her up as she is now princess carrying her. She walked to the bathroom and gently laid her into the warm bath, making Y/n sigh in contentness.
Minjeong began cleaning her, lathering shampoo on her body. Y/n whimpered as Minjeong started cleaning down there in her sensitive area. Her wife shushed her quietly, cooing, "You're okay. Just let me take care of you."
And she did just that, helping her out of the tub and drying off her body. She went to her closet to grab a shirt and undergarments for her to sleep in, helping Y/n put them on before tucking her in her bed before slipping under the blanket as well.
Minjeong suddenly felt shy, wondering if her wife wanted her to hold her. So instead of testing the waters, she just laid there, watching Y/n sleep or so she thought.
"You gonna keep staring at me, creep?" Y/n asked, her eyes still closed.
Minjeong was shocked, "I… I don't know."
"Well, stop thinking and cuddle me."
Minjeong scooted closer, wrapping her arms around Y/n and pulled her close. The two felt at ease as the ceo held her tighter, pressing her against her body.
Y/n smiled at this, nuzzling herself into Minjeong's neck, her breath tickling her skin, "Goodnight, Minjeong."
Winter's eyes were wide hearing her wife calling her name. She buried her face into her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, "Goodnight, Y/n."
Never in your infinite cynicism and introversion did you think you’d end up at a party of all places.
Well, you’re not actually at the party yet—you’re hesitating at the front door. Listening to the muffled thump of pop music you’ve never heard, the screaming of way to many fucking people in a single enclosed space—the not-so-subtle way your heartbeat is drowning all of it out.
Normally, you’d just leave. Turn heel, grab takeout, and spend the night exactly as God intended: sprawled out on your couch with Youtube or a movie and minimal human interaction.
But this isn’t “normally.” This is Minjeong’s party, or rather, her friends’ party, (she didn’t seem all that keen on hosting when you were cuddling in the snow.) Alas, she asked you to go, and bailing is effectively equivalent to committing a war crime on your developing relationship.
So yeah, no choice but to walk straight into hell.
Your hand finds the doorknob.
Come the fuck on, you tell yourself. It’s just a party: Just a few hours of pretending to be a functioning social creature before you can slip out and—
The door swings open.
Ningning’s standing there. A half-empty glass of red wine sloshes in her hand, eyes and smile housing something deeply, profoundly dangerous. She doesn’t say “hi” or “welcome” like a good host would—doesn't even gesture for you to enter. Instead, with a perfectly executed smirk, she turns her head slightly and, without breaking eye contact, announces to the entire party:
“MINJEONG, YOUR BOYFRIEND IS HERE!”
You black out for a second.
Not literally, but rather in the sense that your mind completely dissociates from the material world. Your physical body must still be standing there, existing on tangible matter, because you hear the way the entire party stops. Music is still playing, but conversations stutter, drinks pause halfway to lips, heads turn, one by one, like a scene out of a horror movie, except you’re the unfortunate soul standing in the doorway—the monster everyone is staring at.
You look behind you when you finally regain autonomy. No windows to jump out of.
Fantastic.
You’re left with no choice but to step inside, (running for the elevator would be infinitely more embarrassing), hesitantly, like you’re navigating a minefield, but step in nonetheless.
Dozens of eyes follow your every move, silently assessing, silently judging. Your mind is working overtime, trying to figure out how to recover from this, but the only thing it manages to come up with is: Welp. Time to fake my own death and move two continents away.
But then you see her.
And all concerns blissfully fade away.
Minjeong is standing in the kitchen, her hand frozen mid-sip for a drink. Her expression is, to say the least, shocked, but quickly shifts to signal what you can only assume is an impending murder attempt on Ning Ning.
But that’s not what stops you in your tracks.
It’s her dress.
The dress is azure blue, made from this gorgeous flowing fabric with the texture of a plush blanket. It’s nice, sure, but something about how she looks in it could make you go rabid. The way it makes her adorable blonde bob cut stand out, the way she looks so blissfully innocent, the way it leaves her shoulders and collarbone exposed.
You've seen Minjeong in so many different ways: messy-haired and comfortable over video, adorably bundled in coats and scarves. Lying beside you, radiant in the moonlight—but this? It's a word you’d never thought of to describe her.
Kim Minjeong is hot.
And paradoxically adorable too…?
Your brain, unable to compute her beauty, promptly shuts-down.
Minjeong recovers from the initial shock, snapping her head toward Ningning with a glare so sharp it could shatter her glass. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she hisses, almost shattering her own drink as she sets it down.
Ningning, who just lives for chaos apparently, simply grins. “What? I’m greeting your—”
“Finish that sentence and die.”
You would laugh if you were capable of basic motor functions right now. Unfortunately, you are not, because Minjeong is walking towards you, and you’re barely a quarter into your system reboot.
You expect a casual greeting—one that directly contradicts Ningning’s prior announcement. But instead, she hugs you—in front of everyone. It’s not some casual, one-armed, friendly pat-on-the-back kind of hug either. No, this is one of those hugs. Arms wrapped around your middle, her cheek pressing against your chest, the warmth of her entire body invading yours.
Your brain, already critically damaged from The Dress, promptly BSODs.
And somewhere in the distance, you hear the collective oohs and aahs of an audience who does not need to be here for this. Minjeong, however, is completely unfazed. She pulls back just enough to look up at you, gaze tender, voice mild.
“You made it,” she says simply.
Before you can even think of a response (you’re not even capable of speaking, anyway), Karina’s voice interrupts. “Okay, but if you’re gonna greet him like that, Ningning wasn’t technically wrong.”
A ripple of laughter spreads through the room.
You snap out of your daze just in time to see Minjeong shoot Karina a deadly glare. “You guys are the worst,” she scowls, taking a step back from you, arms falling to her sides—but not before her fingers briefly graze your wrist. “Come with me,” she murmurs to you, tilting her head toward the hallway.
You hesitate, glancing around the party which is thankfully beginning to restart. Karina is busy playing host, Giselle is mid-conversation watching with a knowing smirk, and Ningning—wherever she is—is undoubtedly basking in the chaos she created.
As good a time as any to get the fuck out.
Minjeong doesn’t say anything else—just takes your hand and pulls you through the crowd. A few people glance your way, but no one stops you, and soon, you’re slipping past the kitchen, down a dimly lit hallway, until finally you’re able to take refuge in a room.
You don’t realize where she’s led you until the door clicks shut behind you—and then it’s just the two of you, standing in the soft glow of a warm lamp, surrounded by pastel colours, books stacked sideways, and an egregiously large family of stuffed animals on the bed.
Holy fuck.
Minjeong’s room.
“Sorry about that,” she says with a sigh, leaning her forehead against the door. “Ningning is Ningning, but when she gets alcohol into her?” Minejong turns towards you. “ She’s like… Ningningning.”
“Holy shit,” you laugh. “That was awful.”
Minjeong laughs back. “I’ll be here all night,” she says, finger guns being shot your way.
…And immediately regrets said finger guns.
“Oh my god,” she groans, slapping both hands over her face. “What am I doingggggg.”
“Don’t worry,” you grin. “I only judged you a little.”
She peeks at you through her fingers, face bright red. “At least it wasn’t as embarrassing as whatever that was.”
“As embarrassing as what, exactly?” you prod with faux innocence.
Her hands drop. Her eyes narrow. “Ooh, you are playing a dangerous game, mister.”
“Am I now? I survived Ningning, I’m pretty sure I can take you too.”
“Is that so?”
“That is so. And besides… I didn’t mind it.”
Oh God, what are you saying?
“Didn’t mind what, exactly?” Minjeong asks with complete sincerity.
“The whole um… The part where… Y’know, Ningning called me your boyfriend.”
You don’t dare watch her reaction.
Decades tick by, maybe centuries, before Minjeong finally responds.
“…You didn’t mind?” she asks simply.
You tug at your sleeve, staring way too hard at her bookshelf—at the crooked stack of paperbacks threatening to collapse like your current mental state. “No. I mean I—Uh—”
Instantly, she panics about it, and you're terrified you've scared her. She ducks her head, hides half her face behind her sleeve hoping to hide her excessive blush.
“Oh.”
That’s it. One syllable, one vowel, and suddenly you’re the idiot scrambling to fill the silence.
“I mean—not like, you know, I’ve been thinking about this or anything, or sitting around hoping someone would just blurt it out—like, obviously not. That’d be insane. I just—like—it wasn’t bad. At all. It was… kind of nice, actually. Like, if people think that, then… it’s not the worst thing in the world. Kind of… the opposite, really.”
“Hey,” she cuts in with a laugh.
You glance up. Minjeong’s looking at you now, really looking.
“Relax,” she says, a small smile forming on her lips. “I… liked it too.”
For once, you don’t have a quip ready. No joke, no sarcastic shield, nothing. Just static buzzing behind your eyes because Kim Minjeong just said she liked you being called her boyfriend.
“…Oh,” Is all you’ve got to say too. Fantastic work. Nobel prize for eloquence coming both of your ways.
“So…” She begins, gaze now locked somewhere between the wall and floor, “ if Ning Ning calls you my boyfriend again…”
“And she definitely will,” you say automatically.
“Then… she wouldn’t technically be wrong this time…?”
Minjeong looks up at you again, searching your eyes for affirmation.
“No,” you laugh looking back. “I guess she wouldn’t be.”
And neither of you think you’ll smile quite so hard at each other again.
*
You’re both hesitant to step back out to the party, but Minjeong, after all, is still technically a host.
She offered you refuge in her room—which you reluctantly declined. You've come all this way, why not try and party, even just a little?
You exit the room hand-in-hand, arriving in the open living area of the (rather large) apartment. Minjeong doesn’t let go of your hand right away, lingering beside you and tightening her grip on your fingers.
You glance down at her. “You okay?”
She huffs dramatically. “No. Because the second we step out there, I suddenly have responsibilities again.”
You chuckle. “Ah, yes. The burden of being beloved.”
She tilts her head up at you with a pout. “It’s exhausting and…” she trails off, looking you up and down, “I’d rather stay with you.”
God is she adorable.
Before you can manage a reply, a voice calls from across the room. “Minjeong! Come say hi!”
Karina, ever the perfect host, waves Minjeong over toward a group of newcomers. You barely register who they are before Minjeong sighs, her hand slipping from yours.
“See?” she mutters. “Responsibilities.”
You smirk. “I’ll be waiting.”
She looks like she’s about to say something else, but then her gaze flickers past you, toward the other side of the room. Her expression goes sly, and when you follow her eyes, you spot your friends (your roommates) gesturing for you.
Fuck.
They aren’t exactly subtle about it. One of them waggles his eyebrows. The other makes an exaggerated heart shape with his hands. The last one just pats the empty spot on the couch beside him.
Minjeong covers her mouth to suppress a laugh. “Oh, they’re gonna eat you alive.”
You sigh, already preparing for the interrogation ahead. “Yeah, thanks for your concern.”
She grins, stepping back toward Karina’s group. “Good luck,” she sing-songs with a smile before twirling away, leaving you to your fate.
You take a deep breath, steel yourself, and trudge over to the couch, where your friends are waiting like vultures.
You sit down.
They don’t say anything at first.
They just stare.
Three pairs of eyes locked onto you, faces practically vibrating with barely contained glee.
You sigh. “Just get it over with.”
One of them leans forward, elbows on his knees, like he’s conducting an interview. “So.” A beat. “How’s your night going?”
You narrow your eyes. “Fine.”
The other one nods, pretending to be deep in thought. “Mm. And Winter?”
You exhale sharply. “Also fine.”
“Interesting, interesting,” the first one murmurs.
The third one grins. “Because from where we’re sitting, it looks a lot more than ‘fine’.”
You groan, tipping your head back against the couch. “You guys suck.”
“And yet,” the first one says, crossing his arms, “you love us. Enough to live with us. Enough to tell us—” he leans in slightly, “—what. Happened.”
You glance at them, weighing your options. On one hand, you could attempt to deflect, dodge, maybe even pretend you didn’t hear them over the music. On the other hand… you’re outnumbered. You don’t stand a chance.
After a long pause, you exhale. “We, uh…” You rub the back of your neck. “We talked.”
“Talked,” one of them repeats, nodding sagely.
“Talked,” another echoes. “That’s good. Communication is key.”
“Yes. Talking,” the last one agrees. “Truly, a beautiful thing.”
You roll your eyes. “Oh, shut the fuck up.”
They cackle.
Then one of them leans in. “But seriously. Are you guys… a thing now?” He gestures towards the hallway you disappeared to.
You hesitate for a second, then nod.
Chaos erupts.
One of them shoves your shoulder, the other whoops so loudly that people glance over, and the last one just starts shaking you by the arm like he’s practicing one of those "enhanced interrogation techniques.”
“Oh my God.”
“It finally happened.”
“I feel like a proud dad.”
“Dude, we were rooting for you. We were all rooting for you.”
You groan. “I hate you all.”
One of them, still shaking your arm like a madman, suddenly stops and squints at you. “Okay, but real talk—when are you losing your virginity to her?”
If you had a drink this would have been a spit take. “The fuck—?!”
The others burst into laughter, clapping each other on the back like this is the funniest thing they’ve ever witnessed.
“I mean, come on,” the first one continues, undeterred by your horror. “You two were in that room for a while. We were starting to think you—”
“Jesus Christ,” you interrupt. “We talked—not that it’s any of your business.”
“Sure,” one of them says, winking. “Talked.”
You’re halfway to throwing hands when, mercifully, you spot Minjeong across the room. She’s standing near the door now, hands tucked into the sleeves of her coat, rocking back on her heels as she lifts a hand and gestures toward the exit.
You don’t need to be asked twice.
“Later, assholes,” you announce, standing up.
“Going somewhere?”
“Tell Winter we said hi!”
“Make sure to use protection!”
You flip them off over your shoulder as you walk away, and they howl with laughter behind you.
Oh, you’re totally moving out once the party’s over.
*
Minjeong is already waiting for you just outside, exhaling onto her hands for warmth as she watches cars barrel down the city street. “Finally,” she remarks, like the weight of the world has been lifted from her shoulders.
“That bad, huh?”
She sighs, throwing her head back dramatically. “I’m happy so many people showed up for m—us. Truly, I am. But if I have to greet one more person, I'm going to lose my mind.” She’s rubbing her temples now, making eerie whines that you thought only anime characters and animals make.
Cute, is all that comes to mind.
“How did your conversation go, then?” she asks, like a win for you is a win for her.
“Interrogation more like.”
“That bad, huh?” she repeats, earning a little giggle from the both of you.
“Mhm. At first, it was all vague, ominous questions, and then—boom. Out of nowhere, it got weird."
"Weird how?"
You hesitate. You two are close and technically a thing now, but not let’s talk about fucking each other close.
"Just…weird,” is what you land on.
Her eyes narrow (adorably, of course).
"Weird as in, they want to know a little too much, weird? Or weird as in, you've never talked to them about such a charming, beautiful and talented woman such as myself, weird?"
“Definitely that first one,” you laugh. “No, but seriously, they were way too happy. Like, gleeful. And invasive. Felt like I was about to be tortured.”
Minjeong snorts. "That’s your fault for being so fun to tease," she sings, practically skipping along beside you.
“Same could be said for you, Miss elusive eyebrows.”
You barely register her pout before her fist collides with your shoulder, you’re both smiling, and she’s wrapping herself around your arm once more.
It’s crazy to think how far you two have come. From being barely able to speak to each other in that restaurant, to “good morning” texts, to full-blown dates, to sneaking away from a party she’s hosting just to spend a little more time with each other. It’s an idea that ran across your mind when you parted ways that Christmas, but you’ve never really gotten the chance to entertain it.
You think that you’re in lov—
“Wait, where the fuck are we?”
Minjeong snaps you out of your daze with language you rarely hear her use.
You look around you.
Yeah… Where the fuck are you?
The scenery isn’t much different—you’re in the city, after all—but as for exactly where you are?
Good question.
“I have no clue,” is all you manage as you look up and down the road you’re on. “How long have we been walking?
“Uh… At least fifteen minutes,” Minjeong says as she looks up from her phone.
“Damn,” you laugh. “You weren’t paying attention either?”
“I was… enjoying the moment,” Minjeong says sheepishly.
Your face flushes. Minjeong’s does the same.
“A-and I was thinking!” She stammers.
“Thinking?” You ask with theatrical surprise.
She glares. “Yes, thinking. I do that sometimes.”
“Didn’t think you were capable.”
“Wow,” she snorts. “And to think I was gonna let you pick where we go from here.”
“Well then, Little Miss Thinker, if not me, then you. What grand activity have you thought up for us tonight?”
Little Miss Thinker’s gnawing on her bottom lip. “I… uh—You pick!” she says in a panic.
"I don't mind,” you shrug. “I’m fine with anything. You pick."
Her nose wrinkles. "Well, I don’t mind either."
"You brought me out here," you point out, nudging her shoulder with yours. "That means you get the privilege of picking. Congrats,” you smile.
She glares at you, but there’s no heat behind it—just the usual flustered pout. "I don’t know this area!"
“And neither do I.”
Minjeong breaks off from you to fold her arms together. “It seems we’re at an impasse, then.”
You mirror her stance. “So it would seem.”
“Do you think this counts as our first real fight as a couple?”
You smirk. “I wouldn’t be that dramatic.”
Minjeong gasps. “Are you calling me dramatic?”
“With that attitude, maybe a little,” you laugh.
Minjeong’s eyes narrow, her cheeks puff out, and her lips purse as she does that “thinking” thing she claims she can do. You see the exact moment the lightbulb goes off in her head as she announces to you: "Okay then. New plan.”
“I’m listening.”
“On the count of three, we both say something to do. If it’s the same, we do that. If it’s different…well, then we keep arguing till we’re ninety. Got it?"
“Got it.”
Minjeong takes a deep breath, holds up three fingers, and—
"3…"
—immediately cheats by starting before you’re ready.
"2…
Her eyes dart to yours, wide and imploring, like she’s willing you to read her mind.
It also makes her look clinically insane.
"1…"
"Karaoke!" you blurt in unison.
Minjeong’s entire face lights up. She claps her mittened hands together, bouncing like a kid on Christmas. "FATE," she declares, as if the universe itself has spoken.
"Fate wants us to traumatize a soundproof room?"
"Fate wants me to kick your ass at karaoke," she corrects, already dragging you down the sidewalk by your scarf . "And don’t pretend you’re not excited. I’ve seen your playlists. It’s embarrassing."
"Wait, what did you see?” You ask Minjeong.
She does not turn back.
“WHAT DID YOU SEE, MINJEONG!?”
*
The Karaoke room is a neon-lit den of questionable stains and even more questionable interior design choices—the consequence of going to a place fifteen minutes out of the city centre. But you tolerate it, because Minjeong might just be the happiest you’ve ever seen her, still glued around your arm as you both shed your coats and take a seat, (she jumps), on the pleather couch.
“Okay,” she begins, kicking her feet as she snatches up the songbook. “Prepare yourself, you’re about to witness vocal perfection.”
"So we're leaving?” You take a look over your shoulder. “Because I don't see any professionals here."
Minjeong doesn't look up from the songbook, but you can sure as shit feel it when she gives a light kick on the shin. You stifle a grin, leaning back against the couch, pleased with yourself and the way she always rises to your bait.
Without thinking, she leans back, pressing into your side, her head coming to rest under your chin as your arm naturally comes around her shoulders.
You freeze for half a second—not because it’s unfamiliar, but because it’s really… not anymore. It’s like second nature. Like your body just expects her to be curled up next to you.
Minjeong tilts the songbook up towards you, puffing out her cheeks as she scans each page.
“Okay,” she begins. “ Should I go with the safe bet—a Taeyeon ballad to destroy your soul—orrrrr, something fun? Maybe Red Velvet? Ooh, maybe I go full femme fatale and pull out Sunmi. Thoughts?”
You don’t answer.
Because, much like your time basking in the snow, you’re looking at her.
You’re looking at the way her nose scrunches when she reads, the way her lips shuffle round her face in thought, the way her hair brushes against your jaw whenever she leans a little too far into your side.
She nudges your knee with hers. “Helloooo? Earth to you. Which song makes you cry more? I’m trying to be considerate.”
“Sorry,” you defend quickly. “Thought I heard trumpets playing.”
She narrows her eyes at your sarcasm.“I mean, you’re technically right,” She says as she leans forward to queue up a song. “My performance is going to be biblical. Just divine instead of apocalyptic.”
Minjeong sends a you a smug smile, and you finish your eye roll in time to see the title flash up on the grubby TV:
IU - Through the Night.
A ballad.
She’s not looking at you as she walks to the front of the room, only tucking her hair behind her ear with a smile.
“Didn’t peg you for the sentimental type,” you say from the couch.
She shoots you a look over her shoulder, but she’s biting back her smile. “Don’t blink. You’ll miss me being iconic.”
Minjeong’s eyes shut as she takes a deep breath. And when she opens them again—well, you may as well be hearing an angel sing.
“Tonight, I’ll send you the firefly from that day
To your window…”
Where the hell did this Minjeong come from?
“That means that I love you…”
You feel that line in your spine.
And yet, you don’t move. Don’t breathe. Just watch. Enraptured by the way her blue dress flows around her knees, by the way the neon lights catch in her eyes, by how natural she looks with a mic in her hand, pouring herself into each lyric like this song was written for her to sing and for you to hear.
“I remember our first kiss
Every time I close my eyes
And it takes me away to the farthest place…”
Gone is the snarky, animated, occasionally grumpy girl who hits your arm when you tease her and makes up for it by clinging to you like you might float away. Standing in her place is someone ethereal, confident and utterly captivating.
Painfully so.
Your chest feels tight now, and you know exactly what it is you’re feeling. God, you know.
This is it.
“Like the words written in the sand
Where the waves are I’m afraid you’ll disappear
So I always miss you…”
She opens her eyes. Looks right at you.
And it’s instinct—A moment of vulnerability passed through music and unprocessed feelings.
So you speak it aloud.
“I can’t take out
All these words in my heart
But this means that—.”
“I love you.”
She doesn’t hear you.
Her voice and the song carry her words over yours, her gaze breaking away as she sings the final line with a gentle smile and her whole soul behind it. She’s too caught up in the song—in the moment.
And still, you smile.
Because even if she didn’t hear it, even if the words dissolve into the melody like fog into air, you said it—felt it.
She finishes with a small breath, the song fading out as she lowers the mic.
Before she can say anything, you’re on your feet, meeting her halfway with a tight, warm hug. She lets out a surprised little gasp, her arms wrapping around you in return.
“Whoa,” she laughs against your chest. “Didn’t know I was that good.”
You pull back just enough to look at her, and she’s flushed from head to toe.
She’s radiant.
“Told you I was iconic,” she says with a smug grin, nuzzling into your chest.
“Yeah,” you say simply, holding her tighter. “Yeah, you were.”
*
Before you know it, your hour is up and you’re both out walking on the snow covered city streets once more.
And of course, what’s a night out with Minjeong without a little banter along the way.
“You were so off-key, by the way,” an annoyingly smug voice says to you.
“M-me?” you stammer, whipping your head over to the gremlin glued to your arm. “What about you? You were… You were…”
“Perfect?” She finishes, like she already knows the answer.
You try to fight back. “No, you were… You were… Yeah.”
Minjeong beams. “Thought so.”
“Where the hell did you learn to sing like that?”
“Oh, y’know,” she says with an airy shrug. “Just something I’ve picked up.”
You scoff. “Surprisingly modest coming from you.”
Her grin turns sly. “You flatter me.”
“Kinda my job as your boyfriend, no?” You laugh, nudging her with your shoulder. “ No, but seriously, that was genuinely some of the best singing I've ever heard.”
“Some of the best, or just the best?”
“The best,” you say with the utmost sincerity.
That stops her for just a beat—her steps falter, face warming despite the winter air. “Thanks,” she mumbles, flustered. Although she recovers in no time. “You were alright,” she teases.
You stop walking and spin to face her, gasping. “Hey! I’m trying to compliment you here!”
Minjeong just grins. “So was I! Trying really hard.”
You shoot her a look. “I was good enough to get us to 95 for our duet.”
“And my back hurts from carrying us through it,” she groans, rubbing one shoulder in exaggerated pain.
“Aww, you poor thing,” you mock. “Need me to give you a piggy-back?”
Minjeong freezes once more, eyes going wide.
“...Can you really?” she asks sheepishly.
You crouch down without missing a beat, patting your back with a grin. “It would be my pleasure.”
Minjeong hesitates for just a moment, biting back a smile so big it almost hurts her cheeks. Then, without warning—
“YIPEE!” she shouts, throwing herself onto your back with reckless abandon.
You stagger for a second, then steady, her laughter ringing in your ear.
“Now don’t you dare drop me.”
“Now that’s a thought,” you tease, adjusting her legs around your waist.
“Promise me!” she demands, tightening her hold.
“I promise, Milady.”
“That’s not enough. Pinky promise.”
You roll your eyes but stick out your pinky over your shoulder. “Pinky promise.”
She links it, satisfied. “Then, away, my noble steed!”
And the two of you charge off into the winter night.
*
The rest of the walk back to the apartment is a silent one for the most part. Not because the two of you are mad, or bored, or anything of the sort.
You simply enjoy each other's silence.
Oh, and because Minjeong’s asleep.
Her core is pressed into your back, arms locked loosely around your shoulders with her chin resting lightly atop them as you walk. Well, as you walk. She’s currently occupying your back like a sleepy, smug little sleepy furnace.
She must think the same of you, because you could hear when her breath evened out, her teasing ceased, and her head came to rest on your shoulder. So, in actuality it’s not really a walk, more a meander—a slow-motion sidetrack through frozen streets, a brisk breeze, and the company of the one who means most to you.
There is, however, the matter of the party. You’d love nothing more than to stroll right on home, bury yourself in your blankets, (perhaps curled up next to Minjeong), and call it a night.
Alas, you’ll have no such luck:
“MINJEONG-AH! WHERE ON EARTH ARE YOU?”
“Jeez, unnie, you’re so loud,” Minjeong drowsily winces, putting an arms-length between her and Karina obliterating her phone speakers. “We’re entering the lobby now.”
“Don’t dilly-dally. You’re supposed to be hosting.”
You look back at her as she narrows her eyes. “See the shit I have to deal with,” is written all across her face as she sarcastically replies: “Yes, mother,” and hangs up.
You both share a laugh as you make your way into the elevator.
*
You steal a glance at Minjeong in the elevator mirror—what little of her you can see, anyway, given that she ‘s still clinging to your back like a smug, oversized, stupidly-good-at-karaoke scarf.
She’s quiet still, but not in a sleepy way.
No—she’s doing her little thinking thing again.
You can tell by the way her brows (you can only see a brow) are furrowed, and her lips are pursed. Not in pout, not in irritation, something you can’t tell.
Whatever it is, she’s sure thinking hard.
Time to play the guessing game.
You lay out the facts:
She just spent the evening with an amazing, handsome, and objectively irresistible man—your words, not hers (yet). So that’s Fact #1.
Fact #2: Karina has just screeched at her about resuming her co-hosting duties, which—knowing Minjeong and her frankly crippling social anxiety—is an absolute fucking nightmare.
And Fact #3—
Ding.
The elevator chimes as its doors slide open.
You adjust your grip automatically, hands settling under her thighs to make sure she doesn't slide. Minjeong doesn't say anything, just tightens her hold slightly, almost like she’s bracing for something.
As you step out into the hallway, you feel her breath against your neck.
Heightened.
Then, without a word, she leans in—
—and presses her lips to your cheek.
You completely freeze.
And without missing a beat, she responds to your prior declaration with the softest, sweetest little lilt to ever grace your ears:
“I love you too.”
And you’re stunned stupid in the best way possible.
In an instant she wriggles free, face almost turning blood red as she bolts off down the hallway, giggling at supersonic speed like the world’s most innocent ballistic missile.
She fumbles with the doorknob to her apartment, all while you stand dumbstruck in the elevator. You shake your head, trying not to grin too hard as you follow after her.
She heard you.
Unbelievable, this girl.
Absolutely unbelievable.
*
Your return to the party is about as embarrassing as your entry.
They must have seen Minjeong skip in, happy as can be, and realised something out there must have made her so gleeful.
Because like before, all eyes are on you.
You barely step through the door before someone—not even one of your friends, just some guy—lets out a drunken cheer:
“Holy SHIT. THEY TOTALLY FUCKED.”
And all hell breaks loose.
Enough cheering to warrant seven dozen noise complaints erupts as what feels like the whole party charges towards you. Your trio of friends lead the pack, arms smothering you as you’re enveloped in the chaos.
You don’t even get a chance to deny anything.
“MY MAN!” one of them yells, slapping your back with so much force you almost fall forward.
“I KNEW YOU HAD IT IN YOU,” the second howls, gripping your shoulders like a proud older brother.
The third just clasps both your cheeks in his freezing hands and stares into your soul. “Be honest,” he says. “How long did you last?”
“Jesus Christ—” you sputter, trying to pry him off.
But it’s too late. The party has decided. You are the Chosen One. The Man Who Conquered Winter.
You raise your hands in surrender, voice drowned out by the roar of chaos. “We did not—!”
“CONGRATULATIONS ON THE SEX!” someone shouts again, cutting you off, and everyone somehow claps and cheers even louder.
Oh my fucking God.
Your face is on fire. Every synapse in your brain is about to spontaneously combust.
You use what little function you have left in your body to search for Minjeong.
She’s barely visible through the crowd, but even through her wide eyes and hand-clamped mouth, her hair and dress are unmistakable.
Oh, and she is absolutely fucking losing it.
You lock eyes.
She does not stop.
Instead, she doubles over, the shade of her face mirroring yours. Except instead of embarrassment, she’s wheezing into her sleeve like this is the best thing that’s ever happened to her.
You’re fortunate that people are too caught up in the thrill of it all to notice when you escape from the crowd—but not before dodging a few unsolicited high-fives and residual laughs—and you can confront Minjeong who’s completely collapsed on the tiled floor.
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Immensely,” she gasps, fanning herself. “They were cheering.”
“They think we—”
“I KNOW.”
“You could’ve said something!”
She shrugs, barely containing her grin. “And ruin the best part of my night?”
“Fuck you,” you glare.
Minjeong giggles. “Apparently you already have.”
You scoff. “Please smother me with a couch cushion.”
“Tempting.”
You groan and offer her your hand. “Come on, you absolute menace.”
Minjeong takes it, still giggling as you haul her upright. She’s barely steady before she immediately wraps her arms around you again—slow, sensual, borderline sexual.
And from behind you, you feel the eyes make their way back to you.
“They’re staring at us again, aren’t they.”
“Mhm,” Minjeong nuzzles into your chest.
“Are you gonna do anything about it?”
“Yup,” she smiles, pulling back.
Minjeong looks up to you—a Ning Ning level of mischievous gleaming in her eyes—and gives you another peck on the cheek.
“THEY’RE GOING FOR ROUND TWO!” You hear from behind.
You can’t help but laugh.
Well played, Kim Minjeong.
*
Despite the chaos, the relentless teasing, the introverted alarm going off in your head screaming too many people, WAY too many people—you stay.
Because Minjeong makes it worth it.
Her head on your shoulder as you share an armrest. The both of you watching the party like anthropologists observing the bizarre but fascinating species they call extroverts.
Laughing at your shared plate of snacks, which you both keep restocking with the excuse that “quality control is an important part of catering.”
Playing Jenga with a group of strangers and watching Minjeong turn into a terrifyingly competitive gremlin, whispering psychological warfare tactics to you in the hope you might approve her wrath.
The two of you holed up in her bedroom for exactly seven and a half minutes, pretending to “grab something,” but mostly laying in her bed cuddling, letting the muffled bass of the party fade behind the closed door as you both take a moment to relax and recharge.
At one point, she’s dancing.
Not wildly in the center of the room—but with her friends, swaying with a drink in one hand, mouthing lyrics and throwing you glances across the room.
You don’t dance. But you watch. And she smiles every time she catches you doing it.
Later, when the energy’s died down a bit and dessert is all but ready, Minjeong returns to your side with a gentle nudge.
“Still alive?” she teases.
You scoff. “Barely.”
“Even with our little outing?”
“Gonna need a dozen more of those,” you chuckle.
Minjeong hums, pretending to consider it. “I could pencil you in three weeks from now,” she muses as she brings the calendar app up. “Got a full schedule till then.”
“Right,” you smile. “Because we all know how much you like to go out.”
“You’re just mad I beat you in Jenga,” she shoots back.
And right as you chamber your come back, the party is halted by the screeching of a spoon on glass.
“SHHH! Shut up! SHUT UP. This is important.”
It’s a voice all too familiar—inebriated—but familiar.
Ningning takes centre stage. She’s standing on a stool, spinning in slow, unsteady circles like the party is her royal court and she’s decidedly the queen of it.
“I just wanna say,” she slurs, pointing her wine glass dramatically into the crowd. “You guys are great. Seriously. Like, a-huh-mazing. Thank you so much for coming out!”
“Speech, huh?” You laugh, and Minjeong can’t even muster up a response. Just a nervous laugh as Ning Ning continues.
“This party… this night… is for someone very special. And—can I just say—You guys don’t even KNOW how long this took to plan. Like—Jesus. We almost blew the whole thing, like, five times. But we didn’t! Somehow. We made it!”
More cheers.
And for the first time in a long time tonight, Minjeong isn’t smiling.
You’re about to ask what’s wrong when you catch movement in the corner of your eye.
Karina’s stood at the base of the stool now, one hand on Ningning’s dress, the other trying to gently lower her drink. Her smile is all teeth, and you swear you see her make nervous eye contact with Minjeong from across the room.
Giselle too appears from the crowd, successfully stealing Ningning’s drink from her hand.
“Ning,” you see Giselle mouth, “we talked about this.”
“I know,” Ningning sing-songs, volume making it incredibly unclear who her speech is directed at. “But it’s fiiiiiine. She’ll forgive me when she sees how much everyone loves her.”
Karina shoots her a look of overwhelming disapproval, and Giselle looks like she’s ready to yank her off the chair completely.
“I mean, come on,” Ningning cries. “Look at her! She’s adorable, she’s smart, she’s the reason we’re all here…
.
.
.
Happy Birthday Minjeong!”
Applause.
It rushes through the onlooking crowd: cheers are screamed, glasses are raised, a small cake appears from the fucking ether.
But you’re not part of the wave. You’re watching from the shore.
And you're hit by a tsunami.
It’s Minjeong’s birthday.
And you, her newly-wedded boyfriend, had absolutely no clue.
Karina and Giselle are exchanging glances now, Ningning is halfway to crowd surfing, and slowly Minjeong turns to you with a timid smile.
“...Surprise?”
*
Minjeong finds you outside.
You barely notice though. Or rather, you choose not to pay her any mind.
Instead, you fixate on the countless slip-ups from her and her friends. Every corrected “us” instead of “me”, every half-choked “bir—” swapped out for something else. How, every time the day came up, she’d go defensive or disappear into silence like the topic was sensitive.
How you’d been so damn blind.
And for what, you ask yourself. Why hide it from you? Why make it a secret worth protecting?
You don’t get to think up an answer.
A warm presence invades your back, and a pair of arms wrap around your core. You feel Minjeong’s cheek come to rest on your shoulder blade, the steady rhythm of her breathing syncing with yours.
It’s neither an apology nor an explanation.
And yet it puts you at ease.
“I’m sorry.” she says at last. “I should have told you.”
You’re barely able to muster up your response.
“Then why didn’t you?”
Minjeong’s hold tightens. “Because today was our first real date. It should be about us—not me.”
But that’s not what you’re really upset about.
“I didn’t even get you a gift,” you tell her, almost embarrassing in its simplicity.
Her hands unravel from your stomach, gliding to your waist instead. She gives the just gentlest nudge, coaxing you to turn and face her.
And for a split second it’s like déjà vu.
Her expression holds the same gravity as that fateful night you met. The same certainty in her gaze, back when she’d made sure you’d call her. Back when she’d decided—somehow—that you were worth going against everything she thought she knew about people.
“Look at me,” she says softly, gently holding your face in her hand.
You do.
“Today was the most precious thing you could have given me,” she says. “You. Here. With me.”
You part your lips to argue—to point out how pitiful that sounds. How you could’ve shown up with flowers, or a card, or just something nice wrapped in a ribbon. How she deserves more than your awkward presence and empty hands.
But something interrupts.
A gentle pressure against your mouth. Warm. Soft. Immaculately indescribable.
Your first kiss.
It’s clumsy, on both of your ends. Neither of you really know what you’re doing. Your chest is tight, your hands twitch like they should be moving and every coherent thought has been reduced to white noise.
And yet, it feels perfect.
Perfect in how you feel your heart might burst. Perfect in how her lips fit onto yours. Perfect in how your noses clumsily clash and your smiles mirror.
For a moment you wonder if you should do more, if you should hold her, pull her closer, say something. But the thought dissolves the instant her fingers curl lightly into the fabric of your coat, grounding you. It tells you everything: you don’t have to do anything else. Just be here. Just be with her.
And you’re more than content with that.
But Minjeong seemingly isn’t, she pulls away—only slightly—leaving you slightly shocked as you meet her eyes from mere millimetres away.
But she makes up for it:
“Don’t ever doubt how much you mean to me again,” she whispers.
Right before leaning in to kiss you all over again.
*
So this is something.
Never in your infinite cynicism and introversion did you think you’d end up at a party of all places.
Well, you’re not actually at the party—you’re laying on the balcony. Snuggled up next to Minjeong like puzzle pieces on some tanning chair. Her head rests against your chest, your arm drapes around her shoulders, and she traces small little shapes against the back of your hand as the city sprawls endlessly below you.
Minutes—or hours, maybe—have slipped away without you noticing. The noise of the party behind the glass door might as well be a different universe. Out here, it’s just the two of you.
Your confusion—your dejection—from earlier all feel so small now compared to the love that sits in your heart.
You tilt your head, watching her. She looks almost unreal in the quiet—calm, serene, her expression softened by sleepiness and intimacy. She shifts slightly under your gaze, eyes half-lidded as she looks towards the horizon.
“…The sun’s rising,” she murmurs.
And sure enough, the night has already begun to give way. The skyline blushes pink and gold, each streak of light cutting deeper into the dark until the world feels reborn.
“Guess we’ve been out here a while.”
Her lips curve in a drowsy smile, almost laughing from pure joy as she nestles closer. “Worth it.”
And hey, you can’t argue with that. Not one bit. Lying here with her, watching the sky transform, huddled together like it was just meant to be, it feels like more than just another morning.
It feels like the beginning of something really special.
You kiss the crown of her head. “We really should get back soon, though.”
“Mm.” Her eyes slip shut again, her body relaxing fully into yours. “In a minute.”
You chuckle softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze as the first full rays crest the horizon.
“Yeah,” you smile, keeping your eyes fixed on the light spilling into the sky.
aespa Ot4 reaction to fem!reader telling them they found their fellow aespa member on tinder???
aespa OT4 x fem!reader
warnings/tags: fluff, crack
the five of you were hanging out in the house after rehersals.
ningning was scrolling through tiktok, giselle was sitting on the floor, winter was stealing snacks from everybody, and karina was trying to watch a drama but nobody would shut up long enough for her to hear it.
you were sitting on the couch looking at your phone with a smile that immediately made giselle suspicious.
"why do you look like that?"
you looked up. "like what?"
"like you're about to start something."
"i'm not."
"yes you are."
everyone looked over.
you sat up a little. "okay, but don't freak out."
"that sentence never ends well," karina said.
you ignored her.
"i found one of you on tinder."
the room went completely silent.
winter looked up from her chips. "what?"
"i found one of you on tinder."
"who?" ningning asked immediately.
"i'm not saying."
"show us."
"no."
giselle pointed at winter. "it's her."
winter looked offended. "why me?"
"i don't know. it feels right."
"what does that even mean?"
"it just does."
"it's not me."
"that's exactly what someone with tinder would say."
"i don't even have tinder!"
you were trying so hard not to laugh.
karina narrowed her eyes. "wait, is it actually one of us?"
"maybe."
"that's not an answer."
"exactly."
now everyone was trying to look at your phone.
you pulled it away.
"no cheating."
"just show us," winter complained.
"guess."
ningning immediately pointed at giselle.
"it's definitely giselle."
"why am i always the first suspect?"
"because i said so."
"that's not a reason."
"it's enough of a reason."
giselle rolled her eyes.
while they argued, winter suddenly lunged for your phone.
"hey!"
she grabbed it before you could move away.
"got it."
"winter!"
everyone crowded around her.
winter looked at the screen.
then she blinked.
then she looked at you.
"...seriously?"
ningning was already laughing.
"what is it?"
winter turned the phone around.
on the screen was a tinder profile named winter.
except it wasn't winter.
it was literally a golden retriever.
a golden retriever wearing sunglasses.
giselle lost it immediately.
karina nearly dropped her phone laughing.
ningning fell backwards onto the floor.
winter stared at all of you.
"that's not funny."
"that's literally you," ningning said.
"how?"
"look at the picture."
"it's a dog."
"exactly."
winter threw a chip at her.
ningning laughed even harder.
you were crying from laughing at this point.
"read the bio."
karina cleared her throat dramatically.
"'likes food, attention, and bothering people for no reason.'"
the room exploded again.
winter covered her face.
"you all suck."
"look me in the eye and tell me that isn't accurate," giselle said.
winter opened her mouth.
then closed it.
"okay, maybe a little."
"a little?" karina repeated.
"a lot," ningning corrected.
winter grabbed a pillow and threw it at all of you.
─── ⋆⋅ synopsis. what starts as a painfully average fan account with delusional tweets, way too many edits, and the occasional 2am spiral about your favorite streamer — somehow turns into public beef when another stan decides they hate you specifically. they’re vague tweeting like it’s a sport. watching your interactions like it’s their job. you can’t sneeze without them quote tweeting it.
then it gets worse. your tweets start hitting the algorithm like crack. you’re going viral for saying dumb shit. suddenly karina’s username is in your notifications.
once is a coincidence. twice is insane. three times? be serious.
and that one stan that swore you were annoying? suspiciously MIA every time karina interacts with you.
(wait… why do they type the exact same way?)
lines get messy. dms get opened. and now you might be accidentally be in a situationship with the one person you were never supposed to get noticed by: karina herself.
┆ ⤿ 💌 ⌗ pairing. streamer!yu jimin x fem!reader
── ⋆⋅ genre. smau, streamer au, strangers to lovers, slow burn (kinda…), fluff, angst (?), comedy, and etc.
── ⋆⋅ featuring. karina, ningning, and giselle from aespa, yunjin (le sserafim), keeho (p1harmony), jaehyun (nct), bibi (soloist), and more.
── ⋆⋅ warnings. swearing, kms/kys jokes, suggestive jokes/themes, cast is so small bc im lazy… readers downbad then they kinda lock in, karinas lowk down bad too, this is not a portrayal of how anyone in this story behaves; it’s all for fun!
── ⋆⋅ status. ongoing.
── ⋆⋅ authors note. sigh. i might add more people to the casting later on but that’s just…. soooo much work. #bytedontabandonthissmautoo 🤣🤣!! comment to join the taglist !!
