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[sichengs-world]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝗀𝗂ֹ ♡ֺ〫݀ 𝗌ּ〪𝖾ׁ˳𝗅〪𝗅𝖾ׁ ׁ〫⠀ּ˳ׁ🪜゚ᜒִׁ﹒ׁ˳ ꒰ׂ⠀ׅ〫𝗀𝗂ֹfִ⠀ּ〫𝗌ּ〪

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ׁ⠀࡛⠀〫ㅤֺ���࿙˳ ⠀᩿⠀ׁ⠀ׁ⠀ֵ〫ㅤ˳࿚ִ〬ㅤׂ⠀ׅ⠀ּ⠀〪ㅤֺ࿙〫˳⠀

[suupersonic]

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ 𖣁 I’ll Make You Cry ⚹⠀ ̥‧̥ ‧̥˚̩̩̥͙·‧̥ ̥‧̥ ‧̥˚̩̩̥͙·‧̥ ̥

💿 ིܳ𓏼꫶᭄ I’ll Make it ✿ Make it 霊妙な

[originalvisual]

credit

[vrstual]

ᯓ .ᐟ ⊹ The Girlfriend Contract

- part one.

ᯓ Pairing: Popular!Karina (Yu Jimin) × Cheerleader!Fem! Reader

ᯓ | When Jimin lies to her mom about being in a serious relationship, the last person she expects to drag into her mess is Y/n–the campus cheerleader she’s spent the last two years arguing with across lecture halls and parties. But now, to keep up appearances over the holidays, they have to fake date through family dinners, long car rides and even in school.

ᯓ Genre: Rivals to fake-dating to lovers, slow burn, college AU, family drama, soft angst, eventual fluff

ᯓ Warning: swearing, argument, a little toxic, family pressure.

ᯓ Content: 7k of words

part one. part two.

Yu Jimin wasn’t in love.

She’d made that clear enough times.

The guy from last week still texted her sometimes — a dumb meme or a photo of his cat — and she hadn’t blocked him, but she hadn’t replied either. Not because he did anything wrong. He just wasn’t what she wanted. No one ever was.

Not that her mom would believe that.

Jimin leaned against the kitchen counter, phone in one hand, a cooling cup of black coffee in the other.

She never understood how her best friend could be so different from her. Where she overthought, Heeseung floated. Nothing seemed to stick to him — not stress, not pressure, not the constant need to prove something. He just existed, unbothered and perfectly content in his own lane.

Sometimes she envied that. Other times, it annoyed the hell out of her.

She scrolled through her texts — mostly her group chat with Heeseung and some old party invites she never answered.

Half a pizza box balanced precariously on a pile of textbooks, a soda can sweated onto the corner of a magazine she never finished reading. The air smelled faintly like old takeout and peppermint gum.

“I swear to god, if Meredith cries one more time…” Heeseung muttered.

Jimin didn’t answer. She was too focused on the vibration of her phone lighting up again. It was her mother

Jimin stared at it for a second.

“You gonna answer that?” Heeseung asked, glancing over.

“She’s just gonna ask when I’m coming home,” Jimin muttered, already standing up. “And why I’m still single. Can’t wait.”

She slipped into her bedroom and closed the door gently behind her, pressing accept as she sank down onto the edge of her bed.

“Hi, Mom.”

Her mom’s voice was warm but clipped. “Jimin-ah. I’ve been calling.”

“I was busy. Sorry."

“Too busy to talk to your mother?” she teased lightly. “Are you still planning to come home on the 23rd?”

“Yeah. I already finished my suitcases."

A pause.

“You know, I don’t like you driving alone. That highway gets dangerous in the winter.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve done it every time to come home.”

“Just… you know I worry.” Her mom sighed.

Jimin nodded, even though her mom couldn’t see it.

“You don’t have to come alone, you know,” her mom said. “Wonyoung is bringing her girlfriend. They’ve been together almost a year now. Very sweet girl. Thoughtful. Studying medicine.”

Jimin didn’t reply.

“And Giselle’s new boyfriend is coming too, he's American. Apparently he’s learning Korean just for her. Isn’t that romantic?”

Still, silence.

“I just think… maybe it’s time you stopped pretending this doesn’t matter to you.”

Jimin blinked. “What doesn’t?”

“This. Being with someone who cares about you. You’re always so… distant. I know you’re busy with school, but you don’t even talk about anyone.”

“It's nothing to worry about, mom." Jimin said quietly.

Her mom sighed again — soft, but full of meaning. “I just want to see you happy, Jimin. That’s all. Not just smart, not just successful. Happy. With someone who looks at you like you matter.

That was the part that stuck. Jimin sat frozen for a beat too long, the lump forming quietly in her throat.

So she did what she always did when emotions got too close.

She lied.

“I’m not alone,” she said suddenly. “I… I’ve been seeing someone.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and for once, her mom sounded surprised.

“Oh? Really?” Excitement was running through her mother voice, she could sense it.

Jimin’s brain stalled. And then, without thinking, she said it.

“It's uh... Y/n."

A pause.

Her mom’s tone changed instantly — from excited to genuine curiosity.

“Y/n? That girl from the cheer team? The one from last summer Giselle's gala? She’s very pretty. I didn’t know you two were close, I thought you hated her."

Jimin forced a breathy laugh. “Yeah. Neither did I.”

“Well, I’m glad,” her mom said gently. “I really am. You could bring her over to Christmas you know!"

Jimin didn’t know what to say. She mumbled something about studying and hung up as soon as she could without seeming suspicious.

She sat in the quiet of her room afterward, staring at the floor.

Y/n?

Out of everyone?

She was so screwed.

-

Heeseung bit back a laugh, but it slipped out anyway — low and sharp. He couldn’t help it. For two years now, it had been tradition: every time Y/n’s name came up, he and Jimin would roll their eyes in sync, trading sarcastic commentary like it was a sport.

She’d complain about Y/N’s perfect routines, and he’d mock her perfect smile. It was a shared hobby at this point — hating on Y/n from the sidelines. So when Jimin stood in the doorway, looking vaguely shell-shocked and muttered, “I told my mom I’m dating her,” Heeseung practically choked on his drink.

“You’re joking,” he said between wheezes. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not—stop laughing, it’s not funny, Heeseung!” Jimin whined, smacking his shoulder with the back of her hand.

Heeseung doubled over, laughter spilling out now, almost gasping. “No, it’s hilarious. You? Dating Y/n? You’ve literally called her a walking ego devil in a cheer skirt.”

“That was one time,” Jimin muttered, crossing her arms.

“You said she practices her fake angelic smile in the mirror like a villain!"

"Okay, two times.”

Heeseung just shook his head, still grinning. “How the hell are you gonna fake-date someone you can’t even make it through a room with?”

Jimin flopped onto the couch with a groan. “I don’t know. But now my mom thinks we’re soulmates or something.”

“Well, good luck with her."

-

Jimin had been waiting—maybe an hour, maybe two—just outside the gym, tucked under the edge of the overhang by the side door. Rain slid off the roof in steady sheets, cold and relentless, soaking the tips of her shoes.

She’d run out of things to scroll through on her phone half an hour ago. Now all she could do was stare at the wet pavement and rehearse what she’d say.

“Hey, so this is going to sound insane, but I need you to pretend to date me for the sake of my mom’s sanity.”

No. Too direct.

“I told my mom I’m dating you, and now I might need your help not getting disowned.”

Even worse.

She exhaled, breath fogging in the cold. Practice usually ran late — Jimin knew that. She’d walked past the gym enough times to hear music blasting well past dinner. But it was really starting to feel like Y/N wasn’t coming out at all.

Maybe this was stupid. Maybe Y/N would laugh in her face. Or worse — tell the whole squad. Jimin could already picture it: her name and the word desperate flying through the hallways by tomorrow.

Still, she stayed. Because this was the only way. And if she didn’t ask — if she didn’t try — she’d be walking into Busan with a lie and no backup. That wasn’t an option.

The gym door creaked open. Jimin’s breath hitched.

There she was. Hoodie pulled over her cheer uniform, earbuds in, completely oblivious.

Jimin stepped out from under the overhang, heart pounding.

It was now or never.

“Y/n!” Jimin called out, but her voice barely cut through the rain — or the music playing through the girl’s headphones. “Y/n!”

Still nothing.

Frustrated, Jimin jogged forward, slipping slightly on the wet concrete before reaching out and grabbing Y/n’s shoulder. The other girl flinched, startled, twisting around sharply.

Y/n pulled one earbud out, blinking. “What the hell—?”

Jimin let go immediately, a little breathless. “Sorry. I just— I’ve been waiting.”

Y/N looked her up and down, taking in the damp hoodie, the ruined sneakers, the obvious nerves. Her brows lifted slightly. "Are you okay?"

Y/n didn't cared, in fact she was just confused.

“No,” Jimin admitted, voice sharp and awkward. “I mean, yes. Kind of. Can I talk to you? It’s… important.”

Y/N crossed her arms, skeptical but curious. “Did you really wait out here in the rain for me?”

Jimin nodded.

A beat passed.

“This better be good,” Y/n muttered, stepping back under the cover of the overhang. “Talk.”

“I thought we could discuss this in a café, it’s pouring rain and it’s—uh—cold…” Jimin said, her voice trailing off awkwardly as she realized how lame it sounded.

Y/N rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed, but the edge of a smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "You’re gonna drag me out of the rain to talk in a café? What’s next? Do I get a flower and a soft jazz playlist too?”

Jimin rubbed the back of her neck, feeling the heat rise to her face. “No, it’s not like that. I just—It’s a lot to explain, okay?”

Y/N sighed but didn’t walk away. “Fine, whatever. Lead the way.”

Jimin exhaled in relief, hoping the warmth of a café would settle her nerves and that somehow, she could make this mess work.

-

“Okay, what the fuck is wrong with you?!” Y/N asked, her voice incredulous as they sat down in the café. She crossed her arms over her chest, still soaking wet but visibly irritated.

“It’s the first name that came to my mind, I swear!” she shot back, desperate to defend herself. “I panicked, okay?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Panic doesn’t usually make you pick someone you can’t stand and that can't stand you either!"

“I know, I know,” Jimin groaned, slumping in her seat. “But it just… happened. I thought I could get away with it. But then she—my mom—asked me to bring you home for Christmas.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, clearly thrown off. “What? Me? You want me to pretend we’re dating and then go home with you for Christmas? Unbelievable."

“Exactly,” Jimin muttered, looking anywhere but at her. “It’s not like I want to ask you, but… she’s really pushing it. And I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Y/N just stared at her, blinking slowly. “You’re asking me to fake-date you in front of your whole family… so your mom won’t be disappointed?”

“Please,” Jimin begged, her voice low. “I can’t go back home without some sort of backup. I can’t just let her think I’m this messed-up failure. You don’t know what she’s like.”

Y/N was quiet for a moment, then leaned back in her chair, still processing. “And what’s in it for me?”

Jimin bit her lip, her eyes flickering up to meet Y/n's. “I’ll do anything. Anything you want. Please.”

Y/n exhaled, a small smirk forming at the corner of her mouth. “Anything? Interesting…”

Jimin’s stomach dropped. “Yeah. I mean it.”

Y/N looked at her for a long, hard beat, and Jimin couldn’t tell if she was about to laugh in her face or agree. Finally, Y/n shrugged.

“Alright. I’ll help you out. But just so you know, I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it because I broke up with Jeno weeks ago and this will make him furious.”

Jimin let out a relieved breath. “Deal.”

A long pause.

Then Y/n spoke again, casually stirring the straw in her iced drink.

“So… what’s the storyline?” she asked, eyes narrowing just a bit. “What exactly are we supposed to do? Am I supposed to sell Minjeong on the idea that I fell for you in a night?”

Jimin sank further into her seat, visibly cringing. “I mean… yeah. Basically.”

Y/n snorted. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I didn’t say it made sense!” Jimin shot back, flustered. “It was a heat-of-the-moment, life-flashing-before-my-eyes type of decision.”

Y/n leaned in a little, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Right. So what’s our epic love story, then? Did we bond over our mutual hatred for each other? A steamy hallway makeout after cheer competition?”

Jimin blinked. “…Wait, that’s not bad.”

Y/n raised a brow, deadpan. “You are so lucky I’m bored enough to play along." She sighed. "Let's at least make it romantic."

Jimin blinked at her. “Wait… you’re actually taking this seriously?”

“If I’m going to lie to your mom and sit through family dinners between your family members, yeah—might as well make it convincing.” Y/N shrugged, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. “Besides, if I have to pretend to like you, I deserve Oscar-worthy levels of drama.”

Jimin scoffed, but there was the tiniest smile threatening to break through. “Fine. Romance it is.”

Y/n eaned forward, mock-serious. “So? What’s our meet-cute? Something dramatic. I want tension. A little forbidden energy. Give me the enemies to lovers arc.”

Jimin stared at her. “You want me to plot out a fake fanfic?”

“Exactly,” Y/N said with a satisfied nod. “You started this. Now we’re doing it right."

Y/n grinned, resting her chin on her palm as she eyed Jimin across the table.

“Also,” she added, voice almost playful, “I’ve always liked K-dramas with the worst tropes. So please, get creative.”

Jimin narrowed her eyes. “Worst tropes?”

Y/n nodded, unfazed. “Give me a tragic backstory. I want a dramatic rooftop scene. A tension-filled rain fight. Maybe even my jealous ex. I want to suffer.”

Jimin blinked. “You’re unhinged.”

“No,” Y/n said with a mischievous glint in her eye. “I’m committed to the bit.”

Jimin leaned forward, tapping her nails against her coffee cup. “Alright. New story. We met by accident. Late night. Campus convenience store.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“It’s pouring rain,” Jimin said, eyes distant like she was setting a scene in her head. “I was out of ramen. You were there for honey butter chips and cold brew.”

Y/n nodded slowly, already picturing it. “We reach for the same drink?”

“No,” Jimin smirked. “You drop your chips. I step on them. Instant tension.”

“Classic.”

“I apologize, kind of. You roll your eyes, say something smart. I snap back. But we’re both too tired to really argue. So we leave it there.”

Y/n sipped her drink, clearly invested now. “And then?”

“We run into each other again. Couple nights later. Same store. This time it’s late. Like, past midnight late. No one else around. You’re in sweats. I’m in my stupid hoodie. You ask if I always eat instant food this late.”

“And you say?”

"I say, 'Only when I can’t sleep.' And then you pause, just a second too long, and say, 'Same'"

Y/n smiled softly, leaning into the vibe. “So then what, we just keep running into each other?”

Jimin nodded. “Like fate. We never plan it, but somehow, we’re always there around the same time. We start sitting outside together. Talking. Bickering. You offer me your chips. I start bringing an extra drink.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Then something shifts.”

“Exactly,” Jimin said. “It’s three in the morning. We’re sitting on the curb, legs stretched out, talking about family and futures and shit we never tell anyone. You lean your head on my shoulder.”

Y/N blinked. “And that’s when we kiss?”

Jimin grinned. “Almost. But we don’t. Not yet. Just enough tension to make it hurt.”

“Oh, I love this one. It’s giving sad gay indie K-drama energy.”

“Right?” Jimin smirked. “Now we just have to convince my mom we’re emotionally intertwined and have a history that no one else could understand.”

Y/n smiled slowly. “She won’t stand a chance.”

-

The car ride to Busan started off in near silence. Rain tapped lazily against the windshield, and the highway stretched ahead like it was daring them to speak.

Jimin had one hand on the wheel, jaw tense. Y/n sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed, headphones in — but the music was off. She just didn’t want to talk.

Until she did.

“You drive like you’re allergic to speed limits,” Y/n muttered, not even glancing over.

Jimin scoffed. “I’d rather get there fast than be stuck in this car with you for an extra hour.”

“Charming,” Y/n said dryly, turning to look at her. “Remind me again why I agreed to this?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jimin snapped, “maybe because you begged for a dramatic K-drama moment and I handed you one on a silver platter?”

“Right, because nothing says romance like you glaring at me every time I breathe too loud.”

“I’m driving,” Jimin bit back. “I need to focus.”

“You need to unclench.”

Jimin hit the signal light a little too aggressively and merged lanes. “If you hate this so much, you could’ve said no."

“If I said no, I wouldn’t get to witness you crash and burn in front of your family. That’s worth the ticket.”

They were quiet for a beat. Just the low hum of tires on wet road, the occasional flick of windshield wipers.

Then—

“You always think you’re so much better than everyone,” Jimin muttered, not looking at her.

Y/n blinked, taken off guard. “Excuse me?”

“You walk around like you own every hallway. Like no one can touch you. Even now, sitting in my car, doing me a favor, and still acting like you’re above it all.”

Y/n stared at her. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Maybe not,” Jimin shot back. “But you make it really easy to hate you.”

Another beat. The silence this time was heavier. Then Y/n laughed — just once. A dry, disbelieving sound.

“Well,” she said, settling back in her seat, “that makes two of us.”

Jimin’s fingers tightened on the wheel.

They didn’t speak for the next twenty minutes.

But their thoughts were loud.

“I don’t pretend anything,” Y/n said sharply, sitting up straighter. “You’re the one lying to your mom.”

“Oh my god,” Jimin muttered, eyes fixed on the road. “Are we really doing this right now?”

“You started it.”

“You agreed to this!”

“Because I thought it would be funny, not—this.” Y/n gestured vaguely, annoyed. “I thought we’d take a few fake couple pics, smile through some awkward dinners, go home. Not—argue like we’re married in your beat-up Hyundai on the highway to hell.”

“It’s a Kia,” Jimin snapped, glaring briefly. “And you made it personal.”

“I made it personal?” Y/N laughed, incredulous. “You’ve been picking fights with me since sophomore year.”

“Because you’re infuriating.”

“Because you take everything as a personal attack!”

They were both breathing hard now, voices raised, heat building fast.

Then—

“You’re exhausting,” Jimin muttered.

“So are you,” Y/n said, quieter this time, not quite looking at her.

A long stretch of silence settled between them again, except now their breathing had slowed, tension simmering instead of boiling.

Outside, the rain picked up. Inside, the heat from the vents started to fog the windows a little.

“…I didn’t mean to pick you,” Jimin said eventually, her voice low. “Your name just came out. I didn’t even think.”

Y/n looked at her out of the corner of her eye. “I know.”

“I guess,” Jimin continued, “if I’m honest, it’s because… you’re always there. Like, in my head. Whether I like it or not.”

Y/n's brows furrowed, confused. “So you hate me but I live rent-free in your mind?”

“Don’t say it like that,” Jimin groaned, but the corner of her mouth tugged upward anyway.

Y/n bit back a smirk, then looked away. “You’re still annoying.”

“You’re worse,” Jimin muttered.

A small pause.

Then Y/n spoke, softer. “Do I look okay?”

Jimin glanced over, confused. “What?”

“For your family,” she said. “Do I look like someone you’d… bring home?”

Jimin blinked at her, eyes flicking from her face to the slight slump of her shoulders.

And despite everything — the tension, the insults, the years of barely tolerating each other — she answered honestly.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “You do.”

Y/n didn’t say anything after that. But she smiled. Just a little.

And Jimin didn’t admit it, but she saw it in the reflection of the windshield.

That was the first time the silence between them felt almost peaceful.

-

Y/n was stressed.

She told herself she didn’t care — obviously she didn’t care — but the second Jimin put the car in park in front of the house, her chest tightened like it had something to prove.

It was just a stupid lie. A favor. One awkward week with Jimin’s polished Busan family, pretend to hold hands at dinner, maybe smile for a few photo. That was the plan.

So why did her palms feel clammy? Why did her heart jump into her throat the second Jimin looked over at her and said, quietly,

“We’re here.”

The house was bigger than she expected. Not mansion-big, but definitely expensive. Warm yellow lights glowed from the windows, laughter spilled faintly from inside, and the front door was already cracked open like they’d been watching the driveway all evening.

Jimin didn’t move to get out yet. She just sat there, keys still in the ignition, fingers twitching on her lap.

Y/n swallowed hard.

She was used to pretending.

It was her thing, actually.

Hide her true emotions. No one ever saw past it — not her teammates, not her classmates, not the girls she flirted with when she was bored and didn’t feel like going home.

And for the longest time, Y/n liked it that way.

But something about this felt different.

Maybe it was the way the front door swung open and warmth spilled out — real warmth.

Or maybe it was the fact that the second Jimin’s hand brushed against hers at the threshold — not even holding, just a touch — something inside her chest flinched.

Not in fear.

In recognition.

She was good at pretending. Always had been.

They stepped out of the car, the cold evening air biting at Y/n’s exposed skin. Jimin walked around to the trunk, popped it open, and pulled out the suitcases with a grunt. Y/n didn’t move to help—just stood there, arms crossed, watching with her usual unreadable expression.

Jimin rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

“What?” Y/n said, feigning innocence. “You looked like you had it handled.”

Jimin groaned under her breath, dragging the suitcase toward the walkway just as the front door burst open.

“Jimin, sweetie!” a voice called out, full of warmth and sugar and just a pinch of chaos.

A woman rushed out into the night, arms already stretched wide, face glowing. She wrapped Jimin into a hug so tight it made the younger girl lose her grip on one of the bags.

“I missed you!” she said into Jimin’s shoulder, then pulled back to look her over like a mom checking for battle wounds. “Why do you look skinnier? Have you been eating? I told you to stop drinking iced americanos for dinner!”

“Hi, Mom,” Jimin replied, almost shyly. Her smile softened the edges of her usual sarcasm. She bent to pick up the suitcase again.

Then the woman turned to Y/n.

“And you must be Y/n! I'm Taeyeon!"

Y/n froze like a deer in headlights for a second before schooling her features into something charming — the soft smile she used at cheer fundraisers, the kind that got her free coffees and made teachers forgive late assignments.

“That's me” she said, stepping forward and offering a hand, just a beat too stiff.

But Jimin’s mom didn’t shake it — she hugged her.

Y/n’s eyes widened as the woman pulled her in, warm and familiar, like she’d known her for years.

“You’re gorgeous, oh my god,” Jimin’s mom gushed, stepping back and holding her at arm’s length. “And tiny! Jimin always had a thing for tiny girls, didn’t you, honey?”

Jimin choked. “Mom.”

“What?” she grinned, waving it off. “I’m just saying! When she was younger—”

“Okay, inside, now,” Jimin interrupted, grabbing the last suitcase and brushing past them, ears turning red.

Y/n stood there for another second, a little smirk on her lips, before Jimin’s mom looped her arm through hers.

“Come on, dear. You’ll sit next to me at dinner. You’ll tell me everything about how you and Jimin met.”

Y/n glanced ahead, saw the slight panic in Jimin’s shoulders as she disappeared through the doorway.

She smiled.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

As soon as they stepped into the house, warmth wrapped around them — the kind of lived-in, cozy heat that smelled like soy sauce, steamed rice, and something baking in the oven.

And there were a lot of people.

“Well, well,” a voice called from the hallway, smooth and teasing. “Jimin didn’t tell us she was bringing someone this cute.”

Y/n looked up, caught off guard by the tall boy leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed. He looked familiar — must’ve been her brother.

“She did,” Y/n replied coolly, raising an eyebrow. “You probably weren’t listening.”

Sunghoon smirked, clearly amused. “Feisty. I like it.”

“She’s my girlfriend, Sunghoon.” Jimin cut in flatly as she dropped the suitcase by the stairs. “So stop being weird.”

Y/n fought a grin as Sunghoon dramatically clutched his chest. “Girlfriend? You didn’t say she was taken!”

“I said she was coming,” Jimin muttered. “And I said to behave.”

“Jimin,” her father said warmly, stepping forward to hug her. “You should’ve called when you were getting close.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” she mumbled, hugging him back, softer now.

Then he turned to Y/n and gave a polite, reserved bow. “You must be the girl we’ve heard so little about.”

Y/n smiled awkwardly and bowed in return. “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/n.”

“Well I'm Misook, Jimin's father." he said, stepping aside and motioning toward the living room, “Make yourself at home."

The house had already started filling with noise — the comforting kind. Plates clinking, someone laughing down the hall, a pot of stew boiling gently on the stove. Jimin and Y/n had barely finished setting the table when the front door swung open again, snow blowing in with the familiar chaos of family arrivals.

Jimin muttered under her breath, “And here comes the entire circus.”

Y/n looked up from folding napkins, eyebrows raised. “You weren’t joking.”

Aunt Haeun came in first, cheeks rosy from the cold, tugging off her scarf. “Where’s your mother? Oh, something smells amazing—”

Behind her, Uncle Hyunsoo carried two suitcases and a box of mandarin oranges like he was preparing to stay a month. “Why do we always pack like we’re moving in?”

Then came Wonyoung, tall and glowing even in the oversized coat she shrugged off effortlessly. Her girlfriend Yujin followed, already slipping out of her gloves and handing over a small gift bag with a shy smile.

Wonyoung’s eyes scanned the room — and landed on Y/n.

“Oh,” she said. “This must be her.”

Y/n stood a little straighter. “Hi, I'm Y/n.”

Yujin gave her a polite nod. “Nice to meet you.”

Wonyoung, however, looked her up and down without hiding it. Not rudely. Just… observantly. “You’re even prettier than your Instagram.”

Y/N blinked, surprised. “Thanks… wait you stalked me– how?”

“Wanted to know who my cousin was dating, just saying” Wonyoung added, stepping inside. “Jimin usually likes chaos. You look a little too put-together for her.”

Jimin rolled her eyes. “Nice to see you too.”

Before anyone could dwell on that, the door flew open again and Giselle arrived with her usual flair, dropping her weekender bag dramatically in the hallway. Her boyfriend trailed behind, carrying a cake and visibly regretting not wearing thicker socks.

Giselle’s gaze found Y/n almost immediately.

“Wow. You’re the girlfriend?”

Y/n offered a polite smile. “Yes. I think that’s me.”

“You look like someone who gets invited to the cool rooftop parties and never shows up.” Her tone wasn’t exactly mocking — more amused, a little intrigued. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Y/n said, eyes steady. “I do get those invites.”

From the living room, someone called out, “Stop crowding the hallway!”

Soobin appeared then, towel slung over his shoulder like he’d just helped clean something — tall, soft-eyed, and entirely too charming for his own good.

He gave Jimin a quick hug before turning toward Y/n. “And you must be the famous girlfriend.”

Y/n shook his hand, noticing the dimpled smile right away. “Famous really?”

"Well it's been only a week since Jimin told aunt Taeyeon and she kept talking about you. Anyway, I’m Soobin. Jimin’s cousin — sadly still single, in case that wasn’t obvious.” He winked.

Jimin groaned. “Can you not.”

Mrs. Yu popped her head in from the kitchen, apron tied around her waist. “Everyone’s here? Good. Come help me set the soup, please!”

Y/n was about to follow, but Soobin cut in again. “You cook too?”

“I try,” she said.

“She does,” Jimin mumbled, grabbing the stack of bowls. “She’s basically Miss Perfect.” She says trying to show that she knew her–fake–girlfriend.

“Wow,” Giselle said under her breath, exchanging a look with Wonyoung. “So that’s new.”

Wonyoung smiled tightly. “Can’t wait to hear that story.”

And just like that, Y/n felt it — not hostility, not even dislike. Just curiosity. A little skepticism. Like they were all trying to figure out where she fit in the picture. If she was just a visitor in Jimin’s life — or something more.

Jimin passed her a bowl and gave her a look.

“You okay?”

Y/n nodded, quietly. “Yeah. It’s just… a lot.”

Jimin paused, then added, “It always is. But they’ll get used to you.”

-

The dinner had been… surprisingly pleasant. Y/n couldn’t deny it. The food had been delicious, and as much as she tried to stay neutral, she found herself laughing with Wonyoung and Giselle more than she’d expected. They’d shared funny anecdotes about Jimin’s childhood, embarrassing family moments that made her realize how normal Jimin’s life was outside of the walls of college, outside the walls they’d built up around each other.

Y/n had laughed, genuinely. It felt so… human. Like they were showing her parts of Jimin that she’d never even considered before. She found herself liking it, maybe too much.

But Jimin had been quiet through it all, picking at her food, her eyes darting between Y/n and the rest of the room. It was subtle, but it didn’t go unnoticed. Every time Y/n made a joke or spoke a little too easily with her cousins, Jimin’s smile seemed to falter, just for a split second.

It was like she didn’t want Y/n to get too comfortable. To become too familiar with her family.

To cross a line.

Home.

Y/n thought about that word as she sipped her drink, the weight of it settling in her chest. It wasn’t just where they were sitting right now, under laughter ringing in the background. It was the way Jimin’s face had softened just a little when talking about her mom earlier. Or how her brother, Sunghoon, had cracked a stupid joke and Jimin had genuinely laughed — not the sarcastic kind, but the real one that reached her eyes.

For a second, Y/n let herself consider it — maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I really fit in here. If I could stay a little longer, get used to them…

But then she glanced over at Jimin, who was still sitting at the edge of the table, half turned away from the conversation, looking like she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite get the words out. The shift in her mood was palpable.

She didn’t want her to get close. That was obvious.

Maybe she didn’t want Y/n the warmth of home — it was too real. Too personal. And the thought of someone else, especially someone like Y/n, having access to it? That was too much for Jimin to handle right now.

Still, as Y/n looked across the table at her, she realized something else, too. Maybe Jimin wasn’t as cold as I thought. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t hate the idea of being trusted with someone.

-

Y/n lay awake in Jimin’s old room, the one of her childhood — memories frozen in time. After a long and tiring Christmas dinner with Jimin’s family, everyone had finally retreated to their rooms. But something about the stillness in the air, the way everything seemed to breathe a different kind of quiet here, kept Y/n wide awake.

Her eyes wandered around the room, taking in the familiar yet unfamiliar sight. It was cozy, yet clearly a room from another time. There was a mix of things: an old, dusty teddy bear tucked in the corner, a few scattered school trophies on the shelf, and colorful plush pillows that had been there since Jimin’s middle school days. Her room, untouched by time, told the story of someone trying to hold onto childhood, even in the face of growing up.

Y/n rolled over and glanced at the photos hanging on the walls. There were a few frames of young Jimin, her face so different from the confident, polished woman Y/n had come to know. Here, Jimin was just a girl — a middle schooler, awkward and shy, posing for the camera with her family and friends, her eyes shining with innocence. There were pictures of her grinning with friends Y/n would probably never meet.

The one that caught Y/n’s attention the most was a picture of a much younger Jimin, standing beside a smiling boy who looked remarkably like her brother, Sunghoon. The two were at what appeared to be a family picnic, both holding ice cream cones. Jimin’s smile was wide, carefree — a stark contrast to the guarded look she wore now. Her eyes softened as she studied the picture.

She had never considered Jimin as someone with a life before everything — before the fierce exterior, before the social circle and the reputation. She wondered, briefly, what had shaped Jimin into the person she was now. Who was she before all of the expectations? Before her family’s high standards and the pressure of being in the spotlight?

Y/n reached up and gently traced the edge of one of the frames, her thoughts drifting to how little she actually knew about Jimin’s past. She felt a small pang of guilt, realizing how little she had ever really cared to know. She had always seen Jimin as a barrier, a target of her own insecurities and fears. She had never stopped to consider what Jimin had been through to become the person she was today.

The silence in the room grew thicker, and the weight of everything they had both been pretending began to settle over Y/n’s chest.

Suddenly, Jimin’s voice cut through her thoughts as she opened the door coming back from shower.

“You’re still up?”

Y/n snapped out of her thoughts, looking over at the doorway where Jimin stood, her face partially obscured by the dim light from the hallway. She was wearing a loose shirt and pajama pants, her hair slightly messy as she leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“Yeah,” Y/n replied softly, her voice betraying a hint of surprise. “Just… looking around.”

Jimin walked into the room and sat down on the edge of her bed, glancing at the photos the cheerleader had been looking at. “I see you found my middle school pictures,”

Y/n gave a faint nod, feeling awkward for lingering over something so personal. “You were… really different.” Her voice was quiet, as if not wanting to intrude too much.

Jimin let out a small, dry laugh. “I guess. People change.”

Y/n paused for a moment, unsure whether to ask the next question. But her curiosity got the best of her. “Do you ever miss it? The… before?”

Jimin’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, her fingers tracing the edge of her blanket. There was a long pause before she answered, her tone surprisingly soft. “Sometimes,” she admitted quietly. “But I think I had to grow up too fast. I didn’t really have a choice. My mom… she wanted me to be perfect, and I guess… I tried.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Y/n wasn’t sure what to say, not sure if she was crossing a line or not. But the vulnerability in Jimin’s voice felt different from anything she had ever heard from her.

“I think your mom wanted you to be happy, to build your future so you could be happy. She must have done it wrong.... It's a lot.” Y/n finally said, her voice quieter than before.

Jimin shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. “It is what it is. You can’t change the past.”

They both sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation lingering in the room like an unspoken truth. It was the first time they had really opened up to each other, even if just a little. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

After a few more minutes of quiet, the two of them, still sitting in the dimly lit room, began to realize just how awkward the situation was.

Jimin shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting to the bed, and then to Y/n, before finally settling on the door as if it might suddenly offer an escape. But of course, there was no escaping the reality of the room. There was one bed. And they were both stuck here for the night.

Y/n, sensing the tension, turned to look at Jimin. Her gaze met Jimin’s for a split second before both of them awkwardly glanced away. It was strange, they were forced into an entirely new situation. They had been at each other’s throats for so long, but now, it felt like the walls were starting to crack.

“Uh,” Y/n began, breaking the silence with an awkward laugh. “I guess we’re supposed to… sleep here?”

Jimin, her arms crossed tightly in front of her, didn’t seem thrilled about the prospect. “Yeah, looks like it,” she muttered, eyes narrowing as she looked at the bed, as though it had personally offended her.

Y/n glanced at the single bed again, then back at Jimin. A thought occurred to her. “So… how do you usually do this? I mean, not like… ‘this��—but… you know…”

“Well,” Jimin started, her voice almost hesitant, “my family thinks we are a couple, one bed is actually normal…” She let out a deep breath, clearly at a loss for words. “This is beyond the usual.”

Y/n bit her lip, her mind racing for a solution. They couldn’t exactly sleep side by side in the same bed. That would be far too strange. The thought made her skin crawl a little, and she saw that Jimin was just as uncomfortable as she was. The idea of sharing such a small space for the night—close quarters like this—seemed impossible for two people who barely tolerated each other.

“Wait!” Y/n suddenly exclaimed, the idea coming to her as she looked around the room. “Pillows.”

Jimin blinked at her. “What?”

“No, hear me out,” Y/N said, her voice gaining confidence as she scanned the room. “We can make a pillow barrier, a—uh—‘fortress’ between us. We’ll each have our own side of the bed, and it’ll be like an invisible wall.” She motioned to the pillows on the bed and around the room.

Jimin paused, staring at her like she’d just suggested something absurd. “A pillow fortress?”

Y/n grinned. “Yeah, it’s genius, right? Just a row of pillows between us, and we’ll have our own little spaces. It’ll work.”

Jimin rolled her eyes but finally relented. “Fine. Let’s build your… fortress.”

Y/n wasted no time. She started pulling pillows from the bed and stacking them between them, creating a makeshift barrier down the middle. Jimin watched her for a second before grabbing the remaining pillows and joining in, her usual sarcasm temporarily forgotten.

When they were done, they stepped back and admired their work. The fortress of pillows between them was not exactly elegant, but it served its purpose—each side was now officially off-limits.

“Well,” Jimin said after a moment of silence, raising an eyebrow. “At least now I have some distance from you. It’s like a little… wall of peace.”

Y/N leaned back against her side of the bed, satisfied. “Exactly. Now we can both sleep peacefully without worrying about invading each other’s space.”

There was a pause. Then, a soft, unexpected chuckle escaped from Jimin. “This is ridiculous.”

Y/n grinned, unable to help herself. “It works, though.”

Jimin shook her head, though a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I don’t even want to know how long you’ve been plotting this.”

Y/n laughed. “You have no idea.”

And for the first time since they had started this whole fake dating charade, the tension in the room seemed to dissipate, even if just for a moment. The fortress was still silly, still an odd solution to an odd problem, but it somehow brought a sense of lightness that neither of them had expected.

As they lay there in the dim room, the pillow wall between them, they both found it a little easier to breathe.

-

The apartment door clicked shut behind them, the hum of Seoul’s city noise instantly muffled. The silence between them wasn’t comfortable. It was tense, like a storm waiting to break.

Jimin kicked off her shoes and dropped her bag by the door, heading straight for the kitchen without saying a word. Y/n followed, arms crossed, scowl already forming on her face.

“Where's Heeseung?" Y/n asked earning only a small shrug from Jimin. "So, are you gonna tell me what your problem is?” she snapped.

Jimin scoffed as she opened the fridge, staring inside like it had answers. “My problem? You’re really asking me that?”

“Yeah, I am. You’ve been acting like a brat ever since we got off the car.”

Jimin shut the fridge a little too hard and turned around. “Because my mom wants to invite you to her spring birthday lunch. Because Wonyoung asked if you’d come for Chuseok. Because suddenly everyone loves you, Y/n.”

Y/n blinked. “Okay, and?”

“And now I have to explain why my so-called girlfriend disappears before my mom can start sewing you into the family tree.”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault that your entire family likes me?” Y/n said, voice rising. “You dragged me into this lie and now you’re mad that it worked well?”

Jimin’s jaw tensed. “It was supposed to be a week. A performance. You were supposed to be a cold and indifferent cheer brat—like you usually are."

“Well, sorry for having manners,” Y/n bit back. “Maybe your family’s just desperate to see you with someone who isn’t a Tinder hookup.”

Jimin’s face snapped toward her. “Watch it.”

“No, you watch it. I helped you. I played the role. I met your weird aunt and sat through your cousin’s playlist of EXO dance covers. You’re mad because your lie worked too well.”

Jimin paced, dragging her hands through her hair. She wasn’t yelling anymore—she was spiraling. “They’re already talking about summer. Asking when I’m gonna bring you again. My mom was glowing.”

Y/n leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. “Then tell her we broke up.”

Jimin froze.

Y/n raised a brow. “Simple solution, no?”

“Yeah. Except she’ll want to know why. And how. And when. And then she’ll cry and say it’s because I don’t try hard enough with people and that I ruin everything.”

Silence.

Y/n let out a slow exhale. “Okay. So… what now?”

Jimin hesitated, then sighed. “We fake it a little longer.”

Y/n blinked. “How much longer?”

“Until May.”

“May!?”

Jimin shrugged, already sounding resigned. “That’s when your cheer nationals are, right? It makes sense. We break up after—‘distance’, ‘conflicting schedules’, whatever. Clean timeline.”

Y/n stared at her, baffled. “You really thought this through.”

“No, I’m thinking it through now, because my mom just texted me again asking what your favorite color is.”

Y/n stared. “What is wrong with her?”

“She’s a hopeless romantic. She thinks you’re the one.”

Y/n dragged a hand down her face. “Fine. We fake date until May. But you’re driving me to every practice and buying my coffee. Non-negotiable.”

Jimin rolled her eyes. “Deal. But you’re texting my mom on my behalf until she stops sending me couple bracelets on Instagram.”

They locked eyes, and for a split second, something like amusement flickered between them. But it passed as fast as it came.

The war was still on.

Only now… it had a timeline.

Jimin reached for her phone, already typing a reply to her mom, something about Y/n loving the color navy blue and tulips. Y/n watched her from the kitchen doorway, still not quite sure how the hell this became her life.

“This is so dumb,” she muttered.

Jimin didn’t look up. “You agreed.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t complain about it.”

They locked eyes again, this time without yelling, just the sharp simmer of something complicated brewing beneath the surface.

“Just survive until May,” Jimin said, voice flat.

Y/n nodded, grabbing her bag again and heading toward the spare room. “Easy,” she muttered under her breath.

Neither of them believed that.

-

[aespainstagram]

[250416] aerichandesu: paulas ibiza @/loewe 🍅

[lascvitae]

❀ ༉ ‧ ₊ ˚ I KNOW I GOT THE FEELS

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ alt. I KNOW YOU FEEL IT TOO .ᐟ

ᝰ.ᐟ le sserafim’s y/n & aespa’s karina feature on the variety show ‘taste buds’ and spend the whole time lowkey falling for eachother.

ᝰ.ᐟ pairing. karina x le sserafim’s 6th member!reader ᝰ.ᐟ genre. fluff, idol x idol ᝰ.ᐟ warning(s). karina’s a simp n so are you, this is so gay, host’s dialogue is italicized

ᝰ.ᐟ word count: 1.5k

masterlist.

the set is warm and cozy, modern themed with two seats at the table. the table is laid out with multiple dishes from around the world.

then, karina walks on set dressed in streetwear. she bows to the crew before sitting down and her eyes dart over to them.

“i always get nervous when i meet someone new… i overthink everything.” she explains.

“so if it’s someone new today, i might panic.”

“oh don’t worry. she’s friendly and you’ve definitely seen her before.” the host off screen speaks. karina tilts her head as he speaks.

“alright, come in!”

y/n enters and the camera captures her smile, waving to the camera and then bowing to the crew. she sits down a little too quickly, revealing she might just be as nervous as aespa’s leader.

“oh…” karina’s eyes widen, gasping before trying to recover.

“hi! i’m y/n, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“you too. i’ve seen a lot of your performances. you’re really cool.” she says.

“you watch my performances?” y/n’s eyes widen a bit and karina just smiles at her.

“of course i have. you’re le sserafim’s center. you’re everywhere.”

“says you!” y/n protests, making karina giggle before shaking her hand.

before the two of you can continue the host speaks again.

“first dish and first question! cheeseburgers and fries.”

plates are brought in and karina’s eyes light up while y/n claps, already grabbing a fry. aespa’s leader laughs at how eager she is.

“do you dip your fries or cover them in sauce?” y/n asks.

“is there a wrong answer? i don’t wanna disappoint you.” karina said, eyes never leaving y/n’s face.

“saying you don’t use any sauce.”

karina smiled before dipping and y/n nods in approval.

“what’s your go-to comfort show?”

karina answered the question immediately. ���shin chan!”

y/n laughed. “i knew that.”

“you do research about me?”

“ah! no— i meant— no!” y/n stuttered as karina smirked slightly.

“you’re cute.”

“i feel like i’m third wheeling.” the host joked.

the next dish is placed and the host speaks up again.

“the second dish is spaghetti.”

y/n smiled widely. “i love pasta! it’s my favorite.”

“do you?” karina looks over at the other, staring at her while smiling like she just made a mental note.

“cute.”

“next question! what’s your ideal way to spend a day off?”

y/n hummed while twirling pasta around her fork. “uhh, something slow. like sleeping in, brunch, maybe a walk? or lying on the couch all day with someone.”

she looks up and makes eye contact with karina mid bite.

“that sounds illegal.”

“resting?” y/n tilted her head.

“no. being that cute. saying stuff like that.” karina laughed nervously.

y/n laughed before covering her mouth while chewing.

“are you nervous? you’re blushing!” y/n pointed out.

karina hid behind her hand, shaking her head no while picking up her fork. “i’m not—!”

“karina, how about you?”

“um, same i guess? just something peaceful. like watching tv or cooking for someone.”

“ooh, you can cook?”

karina shrugged. “i could learn if you’re patient.”

y/n froze and karina realizes what she said, biting her lip to hold back a smile.

“i’m… very patient.”

“yah! i’m still here.” the host said.

“so are you the shy type?”

“no— i’m just… you’re distracting.”

y/n stares and karina looks up before panicking.

“wait! i didn’t mean, like— you’re just really pretty.”

y/n laughs and looks away, crossing her legs while trying her hardest not to smile.

“you can’t say that out loud.”

“should i have waited until we were backstage?”

“stop!”

karina just laughed, eyes never leaving y/n.

“before we bring out the next dish we have another question. what’s something you notice first when you meet someone?”

karina pauses before glancing at y/n once and immediately looking down.

“umm… eyes or smile. that kind of thing.”

“that’s a good answer.” y/n smiled.

“what’s yours?”

“hmm…” y/n pretended to think before glancing at karina’s hands on the table.

“smile. and hands.”

karina looks down at her hands then at y/n with her eyebrows raised.

“are you saying i have nice hands?”

“…maybe.” karina laughed.

“do you want to hold them?”

y/n basically folded, laughing and covering her face before clearing her throat, fanning herself off.

“was that spaghetti spicy or was it just me?” she looked around.

“just you. you’re blushing.”

“because you keep saying things like that!”

“i’m just answering the question.”

y/n gives her a playful look, trying to stay composed but her smile is clearly giving her away.

“alright, take a breath. we’re bringing out the third dish.”

a tray is brought in with two milkshakes. one is strawberry and one is chocolate, both with whipped cream on top. there’s two strays in each.

“this is dangerous, no?”

“i think you mean delicious.” karina is already reaching for one.

“next question. what’s something you’ve never told your fans before?”

karina raises her eyebrows. “that’s deep.”

“too scared to answer?” y/n teases.

“i’ll answer if you do.” karina smirks.

“fine… um, sometimes i hum random aespa songs in the shower.” y/n pretends to be dramatic.

karina’s head whips around instantly. “you what?!”

y/n laughed. “i love spicy! i also know the entire supernova choreo.”

karina leans in, laughing quietly now too. “i’m never getting over that. this is officially my favorite interview ever.”

“your turn!”

karina pretends to think.

“i almost dmed you once.”

y/n’s jaw dropped, almost choking on her milkshake.

“you what?!” you can hear the crew struggle to hold in their laughs off set.

“i didn’t! but i thought about it. like, a lot. but i just end up staring at your profile for a very long time.”

y/n hides her face again and karina just watches her with a soft smile. the one where she has heart eyes.

“breaking news. karina tried to slide into y/n’s dm’s.”

“i said almost!”

“before we bring out the final dish, there’s another question. what’s your type… in a friend?”

karina sits up, looking flustered and half laughing. “in a friend?”

y/n laughs too. “yes!”

“okay. someone who’s funny. very cute. easy to talk to and has um— pretty eyes.” she glances at y/n before looking down at the table and pretending to fix her napkin.

“mm. that’s specific.” y/n smiled into her hand.

“totally not about anyone here though.”

“and y/n?”

“someone who’s sweet. gets nervous but still tries anyway and… looks good in streetwear.”

karina gasps dramatically. “that’s cheating!”

“you started it.”

“final dish! apple pie with vanilla ice cream.”

y/n brightened instantly. “wait… this is my favorite.”

“mine too now.”

they both take a bite, making them both nod at how delicious it is.

“ice cream or pie first?”

“karina! you have to get both in one bite. that’s the only correct answer. it’s perfect then.” y/n spoke in a playful dramatic tone.

karina immediately tries it, humming as she swallows. “perfect just like you said.”

“you’re such a flirt.” y/n laughs.

“only for you.” karina smiled.

“are you two a couple?”

“no! we just met today!” y/n laughed nervously.

“and i thought we had something special.” karina pretended to look offended.

“you flirt with me over dinner and expect commitment?”

“well what can i do to prove myself?”

“dance, maybe? you have seen each other’s performances.”

karina gasped, immediately looking at y/n while her eyes lit up. “oh! can we dance together? you said you know supernova.”

“right now?”

“please?” karina says softly.

y/n wants to protest but she folds, hiding her face in her hands while standing up. karina smiled wide, following y/n to the empty area of the set.

y/n stares at the floor as karina admires her from her position, covering her mouth after mouthing ‘cute.’

the music starts and y/n’s eyes widen before she immediately catches on, hiding her smile while attempting to do the moves. she couldn’t even do them full out because of how nervous she was.

but karina just watches the whole time like she forgot about everyone else in the room. she even almost tripped while watching y/n but it’s so subtle that she’s sure that no one caught it.

the final pose hits and y/n shyly walks back over to her seat, ignoring the cheers.

“you’re so good.” karina complimented, settling back down.

y/n uncovered her face and meets eyes with karina, fighting back the urge to look away.

“but you owe me another cover of it. full out this time.” she leaned forward.

y/n just nodded, looking back at the camera.

“so you two will be meeting up again?”

“well. if she asks nicely.” y/n was still smiling shyly but there was a teasing hint in her tone.

“y/n; will you please hang out with me again? i’ll bring food.” karina responded immediately.

“you’re bribing me now?” y/n laughed.

“i’ll just have to dm you for real this time then.”

“okay! one more dance practice. and maybe a coffee after?”

“i’ll take it.” karina smiles like an idiot.

“any last words for your fans?”

“uh… i hope you all enjoyed this as much as i did.”

“same. and don’t worry, i’ll make sure she doesn’t fall while watching me next time.” y/n giggled.

“you saw that?” karina covers her face.

“maybe.”

“well that’s a wrap! thanks for joining us on taste buds! we’ll see you next week!”

within hours, #tastebudswithkarinaandyn is trending worldwide.

taglist — @saysirhc @prologue-ae @yuyuy90

[duvetchico]

okay, but like… do you like me-like me?

summary jimin and y/n team up to get their two best friends, ningning and aeri, to fall in love. unfortunately, they suck at matchmaking and are way too good at falling for each other instead.

genre fluff / mutual pining / matchmakers-to-lovers / crack

pairing yu jimin x fem!reader

masterlist.

it starts because of them. the two idiots.

aeri and ningning. oblivious. tragically in love. doing absolutely nothing about it.

you and jimin? fed up.

"they are literally gazing into each other's souls over instant noodles," jimin says, flopping onto your bed and stealing your blanket like it's hers. “do you think they’d even notice if we locked them in a room and threw away the key?”

"yes," you say, scrolling through your phone. "but only because they'd spend the whole time arguing over who gets the last bite of ramen."

your methods? questionably ethical.

you "accidentally" double-book plans and leave them alone. you start fake fights in the groupchat to exit early. one time, you convinced ningning she had a spider in her hair just to get her to scream and fall into aeri's arms.

but somewhere between scheming and plotting, something happens.

like—why is jimin suddenly standing so close to you when she whispers her plans? why does her laugh make your chest ache a little? why do your hands brush too long when you pass her the popcorn during stakeouts?

and worst of all, why does your face heat up when she calls you “pretty genius” after a successful plan?

you’re not supposed to be the one falling. that wasn’t part of the plan.

the turning point happens on a tuesday.

you’re at your place. aeri and ningning bailed again (obviously together, the sneaky bastards), and now it’s just you and jimin, sprawled out on your living room floor surrounded by snacks and your sad little matchmaker notebook.

jimin’s in a hoodie that’s too big and socks with bananas on them. she’s lying on her stomach, chin in her hands, kicking her feet like some kind of disney princess.

you’re trying not to stare at her lips. you’re failing.

"they’re basically dating now," she says, flipping through your notes. "we did that. you and me."

you hum. "teamwork."

and then she turns her head and looks at you—really looks at you, eyes soft and a little nervous.

"...do you think we’re good at this 'love' thing?”

your heart jumps. "as matchmakers?"

"yeah. or like…" she swallows. “other things.”

you blink. brain.exe has stopped responding.

"what’s 'other things' supposed to mean—"

she sits up suddenly, eyes wide. "i mean like! like if we were in a— i dunno— like a stupid little situationship or something."

you just stare.

she stares back.

“i’m gonna die,” she mutters, covering her face with a pillow.

you tug the pillow down, heart pounding, and blurt, “do you like me-like me?”

the air crackles.

“yes.” she says it fast. like it’s been on the tip of her tongue for weeks.

your whole face lights up in flames. “wait—are you being serious right now—”

“i’ve been like, aggressively crushing on you since you spilled hot chocolate on me and apologized with a ‘suck it up, princess.’” she says this with zero shame, face flushed but eyes proud.

you laugh, a loud awkward bark of a thing.

"that was the moment i realized i wanted to marry you."

"OH MY GOD."

“what?! you’re cute when you’re mean.”

“you’re disgusting.”

“you love it.”

and before you can stop yourself, you grab her face and kiss her, because her stupid grin is driving you insane and she’s so warm and she kisses you back like she’s been holding it in for way too long.

you end up tangled in a pile of limbs on your couch, giggling like idiots.

she traces a heart on your arm and whispers, “so, us now?”

you nod, hiding your face in her shoulder. “us now.”

she pauses. “can i still matchmake aeri and ningning though?”

"you better not make them kiss before me again." "okay but they didn’t give me LIP BURN from too much kissing—"

“SHUT UP.”

[idolsgeneration]

[bytemee]

۶ৎ STUNNER — yu jimin.

“my little angel in disguise..."

⌗ in which— you're a painter who hasn't picked up a brush in months. then one night at your best friends gallery, you meet a stranger who inspires you more than you ever thought possible. you don’t know her name. you don’t know that she’ll disappear before morning. you don’t know that when your hands finally remember how to move, how to paint, it’ll be her face staring back at you from the canvas.

but—when your best friend sees your finished piece, she says eight words that change everything:

"why the hell did you paint the princess?"

pairing. princess!karina x painter!fem!reader

warning(s). language, mentions of alcohol and smoking, mild angst, kissing + implied nsfw but not explicit, happy ending.

word count. 5.7k

authors note. @bimkayd for u. i also have to update my masterlist...bad.

when creativity strikes, it strikes.

like, really fucking hard. and it always comes at the worst times—when you’re in the shower, when you’re half-asleep, when you’re five minutes away from an important meeting you don’t even want to be at. but for the past few months, it hasn’t come at all.

time blurs when you’re stuck in the same four walls, staring at blank canvases like you're trying to have a staring contest with them. the paints dry in their tubes, waiting for you to wake up from whatever this is—this rut, this drought, this fucking nothingness in your head.

yunjin tells you it’s a phase. "everyone goes through it," she says over the phone, her voice tinny with excitement, too busy preparing for her own gallery opening to properly pity you. “come to my exhibit tonight. it’ll help.”

so you go to her art gallery opening. you haven't been out of the house in weeks. you haven't painted anything worth showing in months. it's a miracle you can dress yourself and brush your teeth without collapsing.

the gallery is packed when you arrive, an ocean of well-dressed bodies moving in slow currents, sipping expensive champagne from delicate flutes and admiring the artwork. most of these paintings are by yunjin herself—all bold colors and abstract shapes—but there are a few others here, too, and you spend some time wandering around, looking at them all.

your favorite is a painting done in blues and greys, full of sharp angles and harsh shadows. the paint looks thick enough to feel under your fingertips. there's a small plaque in front of it that reads "untitled" and nothing else. you stare at it for what feels like hours, but it must only be minutes because when you look up, yunjin is standing beside you, smiling.

"do you like it?" she asks.

"i love it," you reply. "it's stunning."

she laughs. "that's what i was going for."

yunjin nudges you playfully with her elbow. “so? feeling inspired yet?”

you scoff, but it lacks real bite. “i don’t think staring at other people’s work is going to magically make me able to paint again.”

“maybe not,” she muses, taking a sip of champagne. “but getting out of your own head for once might.”

you don’t have the energy to argue with her. not when she’s right. not when she’s always right.

you then let her drag you through the gallery, introducing you to people whose names you’ll forget before the night is over. collectors, critics, other artists—everyone here looks effortlessly put together, as if they belong in a world you haven’t touched in far too long. you nod, you shake hands, you make small talk. it takes every ounce of strength you have just to act normal, as if you haven't been locked inside your own head for months now. as if there isn’t a black hole where your creativity used to be.

"your work is so… bold," says one woman, sipping from her champagne flute. "i love it."

"thank you," you say, hoping your smile doesn't look as strained as it feels.

you glance around the room, looking for anything that might distract you from this conversation. a familiar face. a bathroom sign. anything. but all you see are unfamiliar faces and unreadable paintings on the walls, and suddenly you feel dizzy.

claustrophobic.

you need to get out of here.

now.

"excuse me," you mutter, slipping away from the woman before she can ask another question.

you don't know where you're going, but it doesn't matter. as long as it's somewhere else. your shoes click against the tile floor as you weave through the crowd, eyes focused on the exit ahead, sliding out the door into fresh air.

the night is cool on your skin, but not cold. you can still hear the sounds of the city echoing off the buildings, muffled music from inside the gallery mixing with distant traffic and the occasional car horn. it's a beautiful night, perfect weather for an art opening. if only you could appreciate it.

you lean back against the wall, fishing your pack of cigarettes out of your pocket. they're crumpled up but still intact, thanks to the tin foil wrapper you put around them before heading over here. you've been trying to quit lately, but old habits die hard.

besides, you figure you deserve this one.

you light a cigarette and inhale deeply, letting the smoke fill your lungs before exhaling slowly, watching as it curls and dissipates into the air. it tastes terrible—like ash and chemicals and bitter regret—but it calms your nerves, just a little bit.

and then the door swings open again.

at first, you think it's security. some guy ready to kick you out for loitering in the wrong place. but then you see her, stumbling out the back entrance of the gallery, looking flustered and annoyed. she's wearing an expensive-looking gown with a slit up one side, showing off her long legs, and heels so tall you'd trip over them yourself if you tried to walk in them. her hair is perfectly coiffed and her makeup flawless, but her expression says she wants to be anywhere else.

you stare, transfixed. she’s all contrast. elegance and frustration. poise and unrest. a picture-perfect masterpiece comes to life.

"do you have another?" she asks, motioning to your cigarette.

her voice snaps you out of your reverie, and you arch an eyebrow. she looks too perfect, too put together, to be standing here asking you for a cigarette. "you smoke?"

a pause. then, "no. never actually."

you laugh to yourself, not in a mean way, more like you're trying to convince yourself this isn't actually happening. "so why'd you ask me for one?"

"because i want to try," she says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "i want to try something new."

she’s so fucking out of place here. all that polish, all that perfection—it makes her look like a mirage, something that can't possibly be real. her hair’s perfect, her makeup looks like it was painted on by a master, and that damn dress? it’s made for a runway, not this alley. she’s like someone dropped a fantasy into a real, gritty world, and for some reason she ended up here.

her eyes don’t leave yours as she waits—most likely for you to respond, to offer the cigarette she asked for, to say something, anything—but you stay silent because your mind is working faster than your body right now, and you need a moment to catch up.

“you wouldn’t like it,” you finally say, once the gears have started turning again, your words sounding much steadier than you feel.

her eyebrow furrowed, her lips turning down just slightly at the corners. not quite a frown, not yet, but a near thing. you've never wanted to capture an expression on canvas as much as you do right now, her face in all its beauty and annoyance.

"why not?" she asks, sounding indignant, almost insulted. "do you not trust my judgment? my tastes?"

she seems to be talking herself into it, the challenge sparking something behind her gaze. and though her posture doesn't change, you can practically feel the determination radiating off her.

you laugh. "you're missing out on the exhibit, you know."

"i could say the same to you," she counters. "why are you out here?"

you could give her a simple answer, something about needing a break, needing air, needing to get away from the suffocating crowd of people who actually have something to show for themselves. but none of that would be the truth, so you simply shrug and say—

"—wasn't really feeling the whole art world pretentiousness thing."

"strange place to be if you're not a fan."

"my friend dragged me." you admit, dropping the cigarette butt to the ground and grinding it out with the toe of your shoe.

she cocks her head to the side, eyes flicking down to the now extinguished butt before looking back up. it's her turn to stare at you. to take in your appearance—the plain button-up, dark dress slacks, and polished black leather shoes. if not for the tattoos peeking out from your sleeves and collar, you'd just look like another patron, dressed to impress and blend into the crowd.

"are you an artist as well?"

you smile at the question, "used to be."

her gaze softens, "used to be?"

"haven't painted in a while."

the pout is back, her eyebrows scrunching together as she stares at you, clearly processing this information, taking in your words and decoding them, working through their implications and how they fit into the context. she settles with, "well, do you plan to ever again?"

it's a simple question. one you should have a simple answer to, but life isn't simple. and art, well, art's a fucking mess. your shoulders rise before dropping.

"why not?" her eyes narrow. "have you given up?"

"not giving up." you tell her. "just stuck."

her lips press together like she doesn’t quite believe you. like she’s debating whether to push, whether to pry, whether you’re just making excuses.

"stuck how?" she asks, arms crossing over her chest.

you huff out a laugh, shaking your head. “you ask a lot of questions.”

“i like knowing things,” she says easily. “and i like understanding people. you intrigue me.”

it shouldn’t affect you the way it does. but those words—you intrigue me—they lodge themselves somewhere deep, twisting and turning like a key fitting into a lock you didn’t realize was waiting to be opened.

you glance down, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the pavement, considering how to answer. the truth is ugly. the truth is that you used to paint like your life depended on it—because, in a way, it did. it was your lifeline, your voice, your way of making sense of things when nothing else made sense.

and then, one day, it just—stopped. the inspiration, the fire, the need—all of it dried up, like a well you kept going back to, only to find it emptier each time.

"you ever look at something so much you forget what made it beautiful in the first place?" you ask instead.

she doesn’t answer right away; she just watches you, eyes flickering over your face. trying to read you is like a puzzle box. or a book. you wonder what kind of story she thinks she finds on your face. what she sees, besides the tired bags under your eyes and the slight tremble in your hands.

when she speaks, her voice is quiet. low. it carries across the distance between you and hits you right where it counts.

"i think everything can be beautiful again. if you look at it the right way."

"yeah?" you say, a little more bitter than you mean to. "that easy, huh?"

her lips quirk, not quite a smile, but close. "i didn’t say it was easy. i just think… maybe beauty isn’t lost. maybe it’s just waiting to be found again."

you swallow, forcing yourself to scoff lightly, to shake your head. "you always this philosophical, or is that just the champagne talking?"

she laughs, soft but real. "i haven’t had a single sip tonight."

"then what are you doing out here?"

"i needed fresh air."

your fingers twitch. she speaks again.

"and maybe you just need a new muse."

you wonder if she even realizes what she’s saying. if she knows that, somehow, without even trying, she’s already painting herself into every blank canvas in your mind.

the night unravels like a half-finished painting—smudged, chaotic, too many colors bleeding into each other. you don’t remember who kissed whom first, only that one second she was looking at you like she saw something worth figuring out, and the next, your hands were on her waist, and she was breathing against your lips.

it’s desperate. messy. her dress pools on the floor of your too-small apartment, and her skin feels like something you’re not supposed to touch but can’t help but reach for anyway. you don’t ask her name. she doesn’t ask for yours. it’s better that way.

and then, when morning comes, she’s gone. no note, no number, nothing. you don't have to guess if it was real or not because the memories are too vivid, too sharp, for it to be anything but. you lie there for a while, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything over and over in your head.

the way she looked. the way she tasted. the way she felt.

your hands are itching, craving the feeling of your brush in your hand.

it’s not a choice. not really.

your body moves before your mind can catch up, reaching for the brushes, the paints, and the canvas that’s been gathering dust in the corner. the moment the bristles touch the surface, it’s like something clicks back into place—like an old wound finally scabbing over.

she appears in fragments first. the curve of her jaw. the slope of her neck. the way her lips parted like she was about to say something, only to change her mind. it’s obsessive, almost. you don’t even think about what you’re doing, only that you have to do it. the need rushes through you like wildfire, consuming everything in its path.

you don’t know how long you sit there, lost in the act of pulling her from memory onto canvas. hours, maybe.

that’s how yunjin finds you.

she kicks the door shut behind her, dropping a bag onto the counter like she’s another name on your lease. "you alive?" she asks, but then she sees you—sees the paint on your hands, your clothes, your face. sees the finished piece propped up in front of you.

and she stops short.

"oh."

her tone is surprised, breathless, then she laughs, loud and disbelieving.

"oh my god," she says, eyes wide with something between amusement and shock. "why the hell did you paint the princess?"

you blink, exhausted. “what?”

she gestures to the painting like it should be obvious. “why did you paint the princess?”

your stomach drops. “the what?”

she stares at you. “you’re joking.”

“i—” you look at the painting. at her.

your pulse thuds in your ears.

“yunjin,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “what the fuck are you talking about?”

it’s a joke. it has to be.

you wait for yunjin to laugh, to tell you she’s messing with you, but she doesn’t. she just stares at you, then back at the painting, then back at you again like you’re the dumbest person alive.

“you seriously didn’t know?”

your mouth is dry. you shake your head. yunjin lets out a sharp breath.

"oh my god. you—you slept with the princess, and you didn’t even know?” the words hit you like a punch. you stare at the painting—at her—but it doesn’t make sense.

princesses don’t sneak out of fancy events. princesses don't try to bum cigarettes off strangers in alleyways. princesses don’t have one-night stands with random depressed artists they meet in the back of art galleries.

you swallow hard, rubbing a hand down your face. “fuck.”

“yeah,” yunjin says, crossing her arms. “fuck.”

you stare at her, then at the painting, and then back at her. the gears turn in your head, trying to connect the dots, trying to fit this new information into the picture. "are you sure?" you ask, even though you know she wouldn't lie about this. "like, absolutely fucking positive?"

"of course i'm fucking positive!" she throws her hands up. "do you not pay attention to the news at all?"

your mind whirls with the new information.

it’s not that she was just some stranger slipping out before sunrise. she's a princess. a whole gorgeous untouchable, have you said untouchable? — princess.

and now she’s everywhere. on the news, in magazines, her face staring back at you from glowing screens and glossy pages. every headline, every camera flash, every fucking update on her. princess karina seen leaving in the royal car. princess karina attending an art gala. princess karina, princess karina, princess karina.

you try to forget. you try to be normal again—whatever that means. you go back to ignoring your canvases, sitting on the couch, flipping through channels you don’t really watch. you even let yunjin drag you out a few times, shove drinks in your hand, and tell you to move on already. but it doesn’t work.

because she’s still in your head.

so you chase.

not in the obvious way. not in the stupid, reckless, get-yourself-arrested-for-trying-to-climb-the-palace-gates way.

you chase in the quiet ways. the ways that don’t make sense to anyone else. the ways that make yunjin groan and say, “you are literally the most tragic idiot i’ve ever met. but i'll help you anyway."

and that's how you find yourself here. in a palace that is stupidly big.

like, what do you even do with this much space? big. it’s all gold and chandeliers and marble floors and suits of armor standing around, looking vaguely threatening. it makes your skin itch.

you don’t belong here. you know that. but neither did she, that night outside the gallery. and if she could slip out of this world for one night, maybe—just maybe—you can slip in.

yunjin had connections. she always did. you didn’t ask questions when she got you in, just pulled the sleeves of your borrowed suit down and tried not to look like you wanted to throw up.

you have a plan. it doesn't go smoothly.

"i'm sorry, miss. only those on the guest list may enter."

"oh, i—" you scramble to find an excuse. any excuse. "i am on the guest list."

the guard doesn't move. he doesn't even blink.

"what's your name?"

"uh—" your mind blanks. "it's a very long name. very, very long. with a lot of letters. like, a lot of them. you wouldn't be able to pronounce it."

the guard doesn’t look amused. or convinced.

"try me."

you throw out the first thing that comes to mind. "it’s, uh… y/n… the first… y/ln… the third."

silence.

then yunjin, from beside you, coughs so hard you think she might pass out. you nudge her with your elbow, but she’s already turning away, shoulders shaking.

the guard, however, does not laugh. he just stares at you like you’re the dumbest person to ever breathe.

"that’s not a real name."

"it could be," you argue weakly.

he crosses his arms. "it isn’t."

you exhale through your nose, willing yourself not to turn and run. not yet. not when you’re this close.

yunjin, finally recovering, clears her throat and steps in. "okay, okay, my idiot friend here—who, i assure you, is actually very harmless—just has a little bit of trouble with names. what they meant to say is that they’re a guest of lady yu."

the guard squints at you both, skeptical. "lady yu?"

"yes," yunjin says smoothly. "you know, lady yu. very high society. loves art. huge fan of… uh, brush strokes."

you resist the urge to slap a hand over your face.

the guard exhales, clearly debating whether dealing with the two of you is worth his time. eventually, he lifts a radio to his mouth, murmuring something you can’t hear. a beat later, he nods.

"you’re clear to enter."

you don’t ask how yunjin pulled that off; just grab her hand and pull her inside before the guy can change his mind.

and then you’re in.

the palace is even more ridiculous further inside. every inch screams money. gilded ceilings, more enormous chandeliers, even shinier marble floors that make you extra aware of how not rich you are.

you scan the room, searching, heart pounding in your throat. and then—

there.

at the far end of the ballroom, half-surrounded by nobles and dignitaries and all the kinds of people who actually belong here, she stands. regal. poised. effortlessly untouchable.

princess karina.

and she’s looking right at you.

you swallow. she arches an eyebrow. her expression shifts, then she's up and moving. in your direction. then, without a word, her fingers wrap around your wrist, firm but not rough, and she turns, pulling you with her.

you barely have time to process what’s happening before you’re weaving through the gilded halls, past guards who barely spare you a glance, past murmuring guests too distracted by their own conversations to notice the princess slipping away with some stranger in a borrowed suit.

she doesn’t stop until you’re deep in the palace, past the public rooms, past the private suites, past everything anyone else has a right to see. only then does she let go.

you swallow hard, rubbing at your wrist. "subtle."

she ignores you, crossing her arms. "what the hell are you doing here? you're not supposed to be here."

your throat feels dry. "i know."

"then why are you?"

you lick your lips, suddenly 1000x more nervous than you were standing outside the palace gates. "i—" you inhale sharply. "i tried to forget you. and i couldn’t."

"that’s unfortunate."

your chest tightens. "is it?"

she exhales softly through her nose. "what do you want, really?"

and it hits you, all at once, all over again. why you’re here. why you had to come.

you take a step forward, closing the distance between you. your eyes never leave hers. "do you know what it means to be a muse?"

that throws her. a small crease forms between her brows. "i—"

"it means you exist everywhere," you cut in before she can finish. "even when i try to ignore it. even when i don’t want to think about you. you show up in every color, in every stroke of my brush, in every painting i try to create. you are impossible to forget."

her mouth opens and closes. "that doesn’t—you can't—"

"it means you stole something from me," you continue, your voice growing softer as you close the last bit of distance between you. "something i didn’t even realize i was missing until you came into my life and showed me what it meant to feel alive again. you're my muse."

her breath catches at that, lips parting just slightly, as if to speak, but no words come out. you take advantage of the moment, reaching up to cup her face in your hands, brushing a thumb over her cheekbone. she leans into your touch, eyelashes fluttering against her skin, eyes falling shut for a moment. and then they open again, dark and intense and so, so beautiful.

she searches your face as her hand reaches up to rest against yours. you want to kiss her, want to tell her you want her in the simplest terms, in a way that even a princess can understand. you lean forward, pressing your forehead against hers, and ask, "do you feel the same? was it real, what i felt between us?"

you barely whisper the question out loud, barely hearing her inhale as she closes the space between you. her lips brush against yours, featherlight but enough to make your stomach flip. “i can't be that for you,” she says against your mouth.

and your heart breaks. you know you were just a one-time thing, just a quick fling for her. it's the whole princess thing. you knew it would be complicated, but you couldn't stop thinking about her, and she's looking at you with such an intense look, a look that says she can't forget you either, and that has to be worth something, right?

you don't realize you said all of it out loud until she pulls away, blinking rapidly. "wait, no—that's not—that's not what i meant," she stammers, suddenly looking much younger and more vulnerable than you've ever seen her. "that night at the gallery, with you, was real. that was—it was the only time i've ever felt that way."

"but," like always

her gaze softens. "we can't. you can't just come in here like this."

she says the last bit as if you've done something wrong, and her hands pull back to her sides. you don't have it in you to care about her rules anymore. her hands fall to her sides, but you stay still, your forehead hovering near hers, your breath mixing.

"i don't care about protocol," you whisper. "i care about you."

"stop," she says, softer than before. "you can't just say things like that and expect me to—"

"expect you to what?" your voice rises, sharp edges showing. "feel the same? you already do. you’re just scared. and i get it. i do. but don’t pretend this didn’t mean anything."

"i'm not pretending," she snaps, taking a step back, composure cracking. "i haven't stopped thinking about you either, okay? but that doesn’t change the fact that this—us—it’s impossible."

"why? because you wear a crown and i wear paint under my nails?"

"because my life isn’t mine!" she yells. "because everything i do is watched and calculated and twisted into something ugly. if they knew you were here—if they saw us like this—"

"then let them see," you say, helpless and stupid and in love. "i'll stand in front of every one of them and say it. i'll tell them how i look at you like the sun rises in your mouth and sets in your goddamn spine. i don't care."

"well, i care!" she shouts, her voice shaking now, full of fire and something just comparable to fear. "i can't afford to want things. not like you do. not recklessly. i don't get to choose who i love."

it's quiet.

"you need to leave."

you don’t move.

"if you don’t, i'll call the guards."

you flinch, and she notices. her jaw clenches. it takes everything in you not to beg.

“don’t make me do that,” she whispers. “please. just go.”

your throat is tight. you nod once.

you turn, heart heavy, the room blurring at the edges. when you open the door, yunjin is waiting, quiet and still in the corridor, like she knew this was how it’d end.

you don’t say a word as she walks beside you down the long hallway, past the grand ballroom, and out of the palace. she doesn’t push for information or ask about what happened. she just lets you stew in your thoughts, and you are grateful. when you get back to your apartment, you collapse onto the bed. you don’t cry—you never really did, even in high school, and now doesn't seem like a good time to start—but you come pretty fucking close.

you lie there for hours. maybe days. hard to tell. just you, your ceiling, and the hollow space behind your ribs where your heart used to sit before she carved it out with a single sentence and left like it didn’t matter.

you tell yourself it was stupid to fall for her. she’s a fucking princess. what were you expecting? that she’d run off with you into the sunset like a fairy tale? that she’d burn her whole world down just to be with someone who wears the same hoodie four days in a row and forgets to buy groceries until you’re eating plain rice and mustard?

but it still hurts.

the gallery night is yunjin’s idea. she throws a flyer at your chest and tells you to “get a grip and make rent.” you roll your eyes, but deep down you know she’s right. you need something to do with your hands, something to keep you from climbing the palace walls like some deranged romantic with a death wish.

you don’t expect anyone to show up, but people come. some friends. some strangers. a few art freaks who talk way too much about your “use of longing and space.” you just nod along, pretending you're three seconds away from yelling in their face.

everything is her. every painting. every messy, unblended brushstroke. every fucking streak of white paint on the canvas because she wore that blue dress when you first met, and now it’s like your brain can’t forget.

the last person leaves, some guy who said a lot of things you didn't understand, and you don't really remember the specifics of it, but you're pretty sure you shook hands, and maybe he wrote down your name and contact info? you don't remember. but there are no more guests. so you’re cleaning up. closing things. mentally debating whether or not you can drink paint thinner and survive.

the door creaks open behind you, and you don’t even look.

“sorry,” you call over your shoulder, wiping your hands on a rag. “we’re closed. private event's over.”

no response. just the sound of the door shutting. then —

“are you always this rude to royalty?”

you freeze.

slowly, slowly, you turn around. and she's standing there, in a white coat with her arms folded against her chest. there are shadows under her eyes, like she hasn’t been sleeping either. it takes everything in you not to run to her. not to kiss her until she forgets all the reasons why she ran the first time. you settle for swallowing hard and clearing your throat.

“you could’ve just knocked."

“i did." she lifts her hand. “twice. and then i panicked and came in anyway.”

you stare. she fidgets.

she looks down at her shoes. looks back up again. looks back down again. like she doesn’t know what to do with herself now that she's here. finally, she takes a step forward. you take a step back. it's reflex at this point, some instinct to keep her from getting too close.

"i came to apologize," she starts, sounding unsure, which isn't like her at all. "for—everything."

karina runs a hand through her hair. your throat goes tight at the familiarity of the action, at how much she reminds you of that night, that stupid dress, and the way she kissed you, indicating that she didn’t care what came next.

you exhale.

"don’t apologize," you say, because the words feel heavy and foreign in your mouth, because she's been living a life you can't even begin to imagine, because none of that matters if she's here, looking at you like this, and you have to believe in something. "you didn't do anything wrong. and if anyone needs to apologize, it should be me. i shouldn't have—"

"you were right," she cuts in before you can finish.

it throws you. "what?"

she swallows hard, glancing down at the floor, at your shoes. then back up again, holding your gaze this time. "i don't know much about art, but i know what you meant…for someone to be your muse." her voice drops low. "and i think you're mine."

you blink. "oh."

a pause. her cheeks flush, eyes widening in panic.

"was that—did that make sense? i probably sound like a—"

"yeah."

you nod, trying not to smile as you watch her rambling, trying not to stare too obviously at how her whole face is blushing now.

you want to tell her everything. to show her everything.

you settle for, "i mean, it does make sense."

it does. it doesn’t. none of this does, not in a normal way. it's the kind of thing you tell your grandkids about someday. or maybe a therapist, if you can ever afford one. either way, it makes something flicker deep within your chest.

you pause.

"so what do you mean, exactly?"

her lips purse. her eyes are pleading now. she looks younger. more human. not so much a princess anymore as she does someone trying to figure out how to tell the world to screw off. you're struck, again, with how much you love her. it feels like a physical ache in your chest.

"i want this," she says quietly, gesturing between the two of you. "i want this so much it scares me."

you're not used to this, to feeling seen by someone who isn't yunjin, and it throws you off. you clear your throat again, shifting from one foot to the other. "i want this too."

a pause. you try not to stare too openly at her lips. you fail miserably.

"we'll figure it out," she says softly. "together. whatever that looks like."

"together."

the word hangs between you, heavy with everything left unsaid. and then—

you don’t even realize what's happening until she's already moving forward, pulling you down to her level. you can smell her perfume. you can see every single detail of her face as she stares back at you. your lips are a breath apart. she hesitates.

"tell me you don't want this," she murmurs. "and i'll go."

your chest constricts, throat tight. you want to tell her it'll never be easy, not when you're you, and not when she's her, not when this could be so much more complicated than either of you are prepared for. but you also want this, want her, want to know what her skin feels like against your palms and whether or not the words i love you sound good when spoken aloud. you swallow hard, hands tightening on her hips.

"i can't," you whisper. "i don't think i've ever wanted anything more."

a smile flickers over her face. it's gone too quickly. "good."

her lips are on yours, soft and gentle, and everything in your life shifts back into focus, into place.

there are things you can't explain. the way she feels pressed against your chest, warm and perfect and yours, for now at least. the way your hands shake when you brush your thumb over the curve of her cheek. the way she tastes like starlight.

and there are things you don't have to.

[linyuner90]

tinyhaechum_

[anqlicrosie]

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀﹙ 🌷 ﹚  .⋅ॱ✿ ᩚ.⋅ॱ✿ ᩚ  ｡◌  ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀甘いジュース⠀⠀⠀⠀ ♡⃝.───⟡˖͢ 💌 ུ۪۪

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀. ̣̣̣͙⠞⡷ 🪷⊹ @anqlicrosie 𓂂 ◯ ༚ ◯ 𓂂 ◯ ༚

[wonyoz]

NINGNING in BETTER THINGS @kpopcreators event 06: spring bingo + spring: spring

[raecord]

₊˚⊹ gigi-log / loewe campaign behind ♡

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 RATHER LIE aeri uchinaga x reader

౨ৎ warnings: yn and aeri from luxurious (read it first), popular mean girl x loser athlete, swearing, yn plays soccer(football or wtv I don’t care honestly) and aeri is super rich, aeri’s parents , angst, fluff

aeri liked to think of herself as a simple girl she liked attention, shopping, money, and her friends. sometimes her friends. and the only thing she truly despised was-

her girlfriend she hated the way yn laughed at her own jokes, even when they weren’t funny. she hated her stupidly adorable smile, the one that made aeri’s heart do that annoying thing. she hated how, no matter how busy she was with soccer, she always made time for aeri. she hated her clueless dumb jock tendencies, the way she was somehow both the most awkward person alive and the most attractive. she hated the way she got into fights on the field, she hated how she never stood up for herself, even though she was literally the most award winning athlete in the entire school or the way she’s looking at her right now.

soft. amused. completely, utterly in love.

“stop looking at me like that” the pink haired girl grumbled.

yn blinked, tilting her head. “like what?”

“ugh.” aeri groaned, reaching out to pinch one of the dimples on yn’s cheek. “you’re too cute. it’s disgusting. leave me alone.”

yn only grinned wider, dimples deepening as she wrapped her arms around aeri’s waist and pulled her close.

aeri let out a dramatic sigh.

okay. maybe she didn’t actually despise her girlfriend.

“how was practice?” aeri asked yn looking up at her as yn let go out her and raised up from her bed walking towards aeri’s closet, looking for some of the clothes she left there.

“it was good,” aeri watched as yn pulled her jersey over her head and pulled on of her sweaters, “coach wasn’t as hard on me as usual today,”

aeri sighed her gaze never leaving yn as yn moved around her aeri’s room, “I don’t like how you call him coach and not dad, is that what you’ve been calling him since you were born in something?”

yn laughed softly, crawling back onto the bed “I call him dad dummy, just not when I’m talking about soccer.”

aeri’s gaze never wavered from yn, watching her girlfriend pull a hair tie off her wrist and start to tie her hair up. she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “what did I tell you about this?” aeri tossed her pink scrunchie at yn with a smirk. “you’re supposed to wear mine. shows people you’re off the market.”

yn caught the scrunchie with ease, the corners of her lips tugging up in a teasing grin. “sorry, princess.” she slipped the scrunchie onto her hair, securing it before leaning back, arms behind her head, all casual like she wasn’t the most adorable thing in a ten mile radius.

aeri’s eyes lingered a little longer than necessary before she laid down beside yn, letting her head rest on the girl’s exposed arm. “so... about your dad—sorry, coach, he was... nice today?”

“yeah, surprisingly,” yn responded with a shrug, her voice flat. “coach was cool for once. usually, after a game, he’s up my ass about something, but today? he actually chill. don’t get used to it though. tomorrow, he’ll be back on my case.” she turned her head slightly, brow furrowing. “but seriously, what’s with all the questions about my parents? first it’s my mom yesterday , now you’re asking about my dad? what’s going on?”

it was true, this whole week, aeri had been obsessively asking about family. it freaked yn out because aeri was never one to talk about anything even remotely close to family.

the truth? aeri’s parents were back in town, and it had her on edge. they didn’t know about her relationship with yn, and aeri didn’t think they’d exactly be thrilled about it. as much as she adored yn, her clumsy, awkward, adorable, bruised up soccer player, she couldn’t help but wonder how her parents would react. 

she’s not exactly the polished, picture perfect girl they’d probably expect for their daughter, they already had a hard time digesting that she liked girls. aeri might love yn more than anything, but she also knew her family wouldn’t exactly appreciate the bruises on her arms and legs or the fact that yn’s idea of a “good time” getting into fights on the field.

aeri stared at yn for a few seconds, her mind racing, trying to figure out how to express everything she’d been feeling, but the words just wouldn’t come. finally, she shrugged, attempting to mask the unease, “no reason. just... gotta stay updated on family stuff, you know?”

yn laughed, clearly not picking up on the way aeri’s shoulders stiffened, “oh, should I keep up with yours too, then?”

the casual tone only made aeri’s pulse spike. she forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“all you have to do is check the internet,” aeri joked, her voice light, the tension in her chest slowly easing as yn let out a small laugh in response before shifting the subject.

aeri stood stiff at the doorway, eyes fixed on the sleek black car as it pulled up the drive. her parents stepped out like they owned the place, because they did, and aeri felt her jaw tighten.

“aeri! my darling,” her mother’s voice rang out before she even reached the steps. aeri barely had time to roll her eyes before her mother was cupping her face, manicured fingers already fussing. “oh honey, what happened? you look exhausted. and your hair, pink? I told you to stop at blonde.”

aeri brushed her hands away with a practiced flick, already annoyed. it was yn who suggested the pink, in her girlfriend’s words “I think having a pink haired girlfriend would be really hot.” and honestly? aeri kinda loved it.

“leave the girl alone,” her father said coolly as he stepped into view, barely sparing her a glance. “we’ll discuss her... unfortunate hair choice at dinner.”

aeri resisted the urge to groan. great. this was gonna be a drag.

“so,” her mother began casually, cutting into her beef with unnecessary precision, “a little birdie told me you’ve got a boy—sorry, girlfriend.”

aeri nearly choked, coughing hard as she reached for her water. her father paused mid-sip, setting his glass down with a slow raise of his brow.

“who the hell told you that?” she rasped, glaring across the table. of course it’d be her mother, the most dramatic woman alive who’d dig that up first.

her mother didn’t even flinch. “so?” she repeated simply, ignoring the question entirely.

“yes,” aeri finally said after a beat, her voice calm, “I have a girlfriend.”

her father set down his fork. “who is she? what’s her major?”

aeri hesitated for just a moment. a soccer player on a scholarship didn’t exactly scream parent friendly material, especially not to her father.

“business,” she lied smoothly, “like you.”

both her parents exchanged a look. impressed. and that was the worst part, because as much as she hated to care, something about it made her chest flutter.

“really?” her mom beamed. “and her family?”

“really wealthy.”

the words slipped out before she could stop them.

“oh, wow, hun.” her mom looked genuinely delighted, dabbing her lips with her napkin like this was the best news she'd heard all year. “i’d love to meet this girl.”

“same,” her dad added, adjusting his cufflinks. “maybe I could give her some pointers. connections help in the business world.”

aeri forced a laugh, heart pounding. “she’s super busy with work and classes and stuff, but… I’ll try.”

her mother waved it off casually, “nonsense. tell her to stop by next week. we’ll have dinner. nothing formal.”

aeri smiled stiffly. nothing formal, she thought bitterly, she’s screwed.

“oh, you are so screwed,” jimin said flatly through the phone.

“I know,” aeri groaned, flopping onto her bed dramatically. “but I had to. it was the only way out.”

“are you sure your parents wouldn’t approve of her? I mean, she’s a college athlete, has a whole fanbase, and literal league scouts already watching her and she’s only a second year.”

“jimin,” aeri sighed, “my parents don’t care about sports unless it’s golf. they wouldn’t care if she was playing for the national team.”

“do you, though? know your parents?” jimin’s voice softened a little. “I mean… they’re never really around.”

aeri’s mouth dropped open, eyes narrowing. she was seconds away from saying something ruthless, something that would’ve made jimin cry in her sleep but then her screen lit up.

“you’re so lucky yn is calling me right now,” aeri hissed before hanging up and immediately answering the incoming facetime.

her glare disappeared in an instant, replaced by a soft smirk. “hey, loser.”

“hey,” yn said, adjusting her phone on her desk and propping it against a stack of textbooks.

 “you’ve been ghosting me all day. I was starting to worry. ryujin even started bullying me about it, she said you’ve trained me to be obsessed with you or something. whatever that means.”

aeri couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. god, yn was so dumb sometimes. dumb and sweet and completely hers. but the guilt settled in fast, while yn had been missing her, worrying, getting teased… aeri had spent the day lying through her teeth.

“sorry,” she lied smoothly, leaning back on her bed. “I’ve been sleeping all day.”

aeri’s eyes drifted to the screen just as yn pulled her bruised knee up onto her fluffy desk chair, wincing slightly. aeri’s brows knit together.

“wait, I thought that healed?”

“nah,” yn waved it off like it was nothing. “that was the other knee. this one’s fresh. happened today at practice.”

aeri stayed quiet, her eyes locked on the purpling skin. all she could think about was what her parents would say if they saw yn like this, sweaty, bruised up, still in her practice gear with messy hair and that dumb smile. they’d probably faint on the spot.

she forced a small laugh. “you’re like… one big walking injury.”

yn grinned proudly. “thanks, babe.”

there’s silence.

“so uh, you might wanna get used to me ghosting a little more this week,” aeri said casually, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve.

yn raised a brow. “what, why?”

“I’ve got this huge econ test coming up,” she lied without skipping a beat, “and my dad’s been texting me nonstop about grades. like full on freak out mode. so I need to lock in.”

yn nodded slowly. “oh… damn. yeah, that makes sense.”

aeri could already see the wheels turning in her girlfriend’s head, so she added quickly, “it’s nothing serious, just pressure from my dad being dramatic. I just need to focus.”

“I can come over and study with you,” yn offered with a grin, not even thinking twice about it. “I’ll bring snacks. we can make flashcards and stuff—”

“no!” aeri blurted, a little too fast, a little too loud.

yn blinked. “uh…”

aeri cleared her throat, trying to recover. “I mean… babe. you’re not exactly the brightest crayon in the box.”

yn gasped. “wow.” she dragged out.

“I’m just saying,” aeri smirked, “you’re more of a ‘run fast, kick ball’ kind of girl. and that’s okay. just… stick to your athletics.”

yn narrowed her eyes playfully. “you’re so lucky you’re hot.”

aeri laughed, but there was a tightness in her chest. the lying was easy, too easy, but yn’s genuine offer, the way she’d said “I’ll bring snacks” like it was the most obvious thing in the world, made her stomach twist with guilt.

“I’ll make it up to you after the test, okay?” aeri added softer.

yn nodded, still suspicious, but let it go. “you better. I expect snacks. and a movie. and lots of hugs.”

aeri smiled. “deal.”

“I’ll text you tomorrow?” aeri said, forcing a smile as yn nodded.

“okay. good luck with the studying. don’t stress too much, alright?”

aeri hummed in response and ended the call.

the second yn’s face disappeared from the screen, aeri let out a long, guttural groan and flopped backwards onto her pillows, flinging her phone somewhere near the foot of her bed.

“what the hell am I doing,” she muttered, dragging both hands down her face. “lying to my parents. lying to my girlfriend. pretending she’s a business major from a rich family. oh my god, I’m insane.”

she rolled over and screamed into her pillow.

her parents wanted to meet a fake version of yn. yn just wanted to bring her snacks and help her study. 

and her brilliant solution? insult her intelligence and ghost her for a week.

“great, genius,” she mumbled to herself, sitting up suddenly and staring at the floor like it might give her answers. “now she thinks I’m avoiding her. which… I am. but like, ugh, it’s for her own good.”

she pulled her phone back toward her and opened a text to jimin.

did I forget to tell you they now wanna meet her next week? and I’m avoiding her??? help

I’m spiraling I’m spiraling I’m spiralling

before she could even finish typing another message, her phone started ringing again. she flinched. it was jimin.

“don’t say anything,” aeri answered, flopping back down dramatically.

“you’re a mess.”

“I said don’t say anything.”

“you’re gonna have to tell yn the truth eventually,” jimin said calmly. “or you’re gonna end up introducing her to your parents with a fake résumé and a fake gucci purse.”

“I can get her a gucci purse.”

“aeri—”

“I’m serious! I saw one online last week that would actually look so cute on her. she has that one blue hoodie it could go with that I got her last month, wait. oh my god. I’m insane.”

jimin sighed. “yeah. but at least you’re pretty.”

aeri buried her face into the pillow again and screamed.

yn sat cross legged on ryujin’s bed, chewing on the straw of her smoothie and staring blankly at the tv playing some random drama. 

she was trying to focus, she really was, but her brain kept looping back to aeri.

“you’re thinking about her again,” ryujin said flatly, not even looking up from her phone.

“no, I’m not.”

“you are. you’re doing that weird little pout you do when you’re overthinking.”

“I don’t do that.”

“you definitely do.” ryujin finally looked up, raising a brow. “so? what’d she say?”

yn sighed, tossing the straw wrapper across the room. “she said she’s gonna be ghost for the week ‘cause she has a big test and her dad’s been on her ass about grades or whatever.”

ryujin made a face. “since when does she care about school?”

“that’s what I said,” yn muttered. “I offered to come over and study with her and she said no. then she joked about me not being smart enough to help and told me to stick to athletics.”

ryujin’s eyes narrowed. “she said that?”

“yeah. but she was joking. I think. I mean, I laughed.”

ryujin sat up, looking way more alert now “okay, no offense, but that sounds like a bunch of bullshit. like, she loves it when you’re around. she literally dragged you to her 8 a.m. econ class once just to ‘make it more bearable.’ now she suddenly doesn’t want you near her?”

yn stayed quiet, fingers fidgeting with the string of her hoodie.

“you think something’s wrong?” she asked, voice softer now.

“I think she’s hiding something,” ryujin said bluntly. “maybe not something bad. but something.”

yn chewed on the inside of her cheek, thinking. aeri did seem off on facetime. like she was trying too hard to act normal. her smile didn’t reach her eyes. her voice was just a little too distant.

“you should just go over there,” ryujin added. “pop in. if she’s really just studying, it won’t be weird.”

“you think she’d be mad?”

“I think if she is, then she’s definitely hiding something, give it a couple more days it’s wednesday, pop in on the weekend.”

yn nodded slowly, still unsure, but that little pit of doubt in her stomach was growing.

it had been days since aeri locked herself away in her castle of lies, texting yn just enough to keep suspicion at bay, but even through the screen, she could tell her 

girlfriend was confused. the usual flirty emojis and teasing voice notes had thinned into dry "good mornings" and "sleep wells." it was killing her.

“so?” her mother snapped her out of her spiral. “your girlfriend’s supposed to be here any minute. I told the chef to prepare the shrimp, I hope she likes shrimp. it’s imported.”

aeri blinked. “about that…”

she had the excuse ready. yn had a big business test, needed to study, couldn’t make it. simple. easy. clean.

ding dong.

“hold that thought,” her mother said, already standing, heels clicking against the marble as she headed toward the door, making aeri roll her eyes 

“oh! hello!” her mother’s voice turned sickeningly sweet. “you must be the girlfriend.”

aeri froze in place.

what.

no.

no, no, no, no, what the hell was yn doing here?

aeri shot up so fast her chair scraped back against the floor. “mom, wait!” she hissed, practically tripping over herself as she sped down the hallway, socks sliding against the marble tile.

too late.

there she was.

yn, in all her tall, clueless glory, standing in the grand foyer of the uchiha mansion, wearing the pale pink louis vuitton polo that aeri bought her last month. it was oversized just how she liked it and draped loosely over a pair of baggy jeans, her hair was styled, barely, and she looked... passable, if you didn’t look too close at the faint bruise on her arm or how she nervously shifted from foot to foot.

“hey,” yn grinned, “is this your mom? nice to meet you.”

aeri’s mother blinked, lips pulling into a polite smile. “oh,” she said, scanning yn from head to toe. “you look… lovely. is that lv?”

yn looked down, then nodded. “yeah. aeri gave it to me.”

aeri nearly choked.

“shall we?” her mother gestured toward the dining room, smile tight. “the shrimp’s getting cold.”

aeri shoved herself between them, laughing a little too loud. “wait—wait, can I borrow her for just one second?”

“don’t take too long,” her mom said without looking back, already walking off in her heels

aeri yanked yn by the wrist and pulled her down the hallway.

aeri pressed her back against the door, her chest heaving. “yn, what are you doing?”

“surprising you?” yn answered, clearly thrown off, “you’ve been weird all week, barely texting, acting like I don’t exist, I just wanted to see you.”

aeri let out a short breath, not angry, just… overwhelmed. “I told you I was fine.”

“you didn’t even tell me your parents were back in town,” yn said, brows furrowing. “why didn’t you tell me?”

aeri flinched, barely, but yn caught it. she could see the guilt flicker across aeri’s expression before the spoiled girl quickly masked it with indifference.

“you need to go,” aeri muttered, brushing past her.

yn blinked, taking a step back. “what?”

“I just, tonight isn’t a good time. I didn’t think you were actually gonna come, okay? just… go.”

there it was.

yn’s face didn’t crumple or twist up with emotion. no, it was worse, her entire expression just fell flat. like the lights behind her eyes dimmed a little. like she didn’t know how to react.

and just as yn opened her mouth to speak, aeri’s mother’s heels clicked furiously against the marble.

“oh for god’s sake, what is taking so long—”

she stormed into the hallway, pausing only slightly when she saw how tense the two looked. but she smiled anyway, grabbing yn’s hand without hesitation.

“come now, dear,” she said, tugging yn gently but firmly. “you’re our guest. don’t be shy.”

yn glanced at aeri as she was led away, their eyes meeting for only a second.

a second was all it took for aeri to see the hurt sitting just beneath the surface. and it made her feel sick.

dinner was quiet at first. the clinking of forks, a polite sip of wine, some occasional chewing. too quiet. aeri could feel the anxiety pressing up her throat, her knee bouncing lightly under the table.

and then.

“so,” her mother said, placing her napkin on her lap delicately, “how did you two meet?”

yn paused mid bite, fork hovering. she blinked, glanced at aeri, then gave a small laugh. “uh, I hit her with a soccer ball.”

aeri froze.

her father furrowed his brows. “you… what?”

“it was during a sports day,” aeri blurted out quickly, flashing a too bright smile. “yn, being the business major she is, was horrible at soccer  and—yeah. accident.”

yn’s brows pinched as she leaned over and whispered, “business major?”

“oh yeah, business ” he repeated, eyes narrowing in that way that always made aeri’s stomach churn. “that explains it. you look so familiar. how’s business been treating you? I know how demanding that major can be.”

“dad, don’t interrogate my girlfriend,” aeri cut in quickly, voice tight with panic.

but yn just smiled politely and shook her head. “I wish I could tell you, sir, but i’m not a business major.”

the silence that hit the table was deafening.

a beat.

“then what are you?” her mother asked, her voice sharper now, eyes narrowing slightly.

yn stayed calm. “I’m a soccer player. i’m on an athletic scholarship.”

aeri could’ve sunk into the floor right then and there. her heart was in her ears. her entire chest burned.

“oh,” her mother said slowly, blinking. “and your parents? what company do they own?”

yn turned to look at aeri, visibly confused now, then turned back to the parents. “I wouldn’t say they own a company, but… my dad acts like he owns the team. he’s my coach. and my mom’s a nurse.”

her mother’s lips parted slightly, clearly processing that.

“soccer?” her father said suddenly, and his whole expression changed. “that’s why you look so familiar. you’re yn. yn. me and the boys have been watching some of the college soccer games on our business trips, you’re everyone’s favorite. you're already on the league radar, aren’t you? probably getting drafted early.”

aeri stared at her father like she didn’t know him.

but before she could even say anything, he added, “so why did aeri say you were a business major?”

“and from a wealthy family?” her mother tacked on, voice laced with suspicion now.

all eyes turned to aeri.

she laughed, dry, nervous, too high pitched. “dad, since when are you into soccer?”

yn cleared her throat and pushed her chair back gently. “sorry. may I be excused?”

“yn—” aeri stood up immediately, eyes wide.

but yn was already walking.

aeri followed, practically tripping over herself to catch up. “yn, wait, please, wait—”

aeri hurried after yn, panic bubbling up as she saw the girl’s back disappearing into the hallway. yn moved quickly, her footsteps heavy on the marble floor, and aeri’s heart twisted at the thought of what she might be thinking. the door to the patio was already cracked open by the time aeri reached it, the cool evening air brushing against her skin.

aeri pushed the door open, the cold air biting against her skin as she stepped onto the patio. yn stood a few feet away, arms crossed tightly over her chest, back turned.

“yn,” aeri said gently, voice low and careful, “can we just—”

“so I’m guessing there’s no big test?” yn cut her off, her voice sharp but calm in that scary way that made aeri freeze in place.

aeri’s breath caught. “yn…”

“aeri, what the hell was that?” yn finally turned, and the look on her face made aeri’s stomach drop. it wasn’t anger at least not fully. it was disappointment. betrayal. “why do your parents think I’m some business major from a rich family?”

aeri couldn’t speak for a second. her throat felt tight.

yn’s voice rose slightly, not yelling, but firm. “you lied to them about everything. my major, my family, me. was this whole thing just one big cover up?”

aeri shook her head quickly, stepping forward. “no! yn, it’s not like that, I swear—”

“then what is it like?” yn challenged, eyes searching hers. “because right now it really feels like you’re embarrassed of me.”

“I’m not,” aeri said, voice cracking as her heart thudded in her chest. “I’m not embarrassed of you, yn. I swear. I just, I panicked, okay? they showed up out of nowhere and I didn’t know how to explain… us. you.”

yn blinked at her, jaw clenched. “you could’ve just told me. I would’ve understood. I would’ve done anything to make tonight easier for you. but you lied. to them, and to me.”

aeri was quiet, guilt sinking heavy into her bones. she couldn’t deny it. she had lied. because the truth, as stupid as it sounded now, had scared her.

“I didn’t want them to judge you,” aeri whispered. “or ruin this. or ruin us.”

yn stared at her for a long moment. “they wouldn’t have judged me, aeri. they would’ve judged you. for being with me.”

the words landed hard, and neither of them said anything after that. the wind rustled in the silence, but it didn’t break the weight between them.

aeri took a shaky breath, stepping closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “you’re right. they would’ve. they do.”

yn didn’t flinch, just kept her eyes on her.

aeri looked down, fiddling with the sleeves of her cardigan. “you’re a soccer player with bruises and bandaids and opinions, and my parents think that kind of girl isn’t fit to sit at their table. and that’s so messed up, I know that but it’s just how they are.”

yn’s jaw tightened. “and you lied so they’d think I was the kind of girl who is.”

aeri’s voice cracked, quiet and fast, “I was scared they’d make me choose.”

yn finally looked away, jaw flexing, eyes fixed on the horizon. “and you chose.”

aeri felt that like a punch to the chest. “no. no, yn, I didn’t choose them. I just—I froze, okay? you walked in and you looked so perfect in that stupid polo I got you and for a second I thought maybe I could keep the lie going. keep you.”

yn let out a breathy, humorless laugh. “you keep saying you’re not ashamed of me, but you assumed they wouldn’t accept me. and yet your dad literally just sat there praising me for being the best in the game. the same game you thought would make them hate me.”

aeri’s mouth parted, no words coming out.

yn shook her head. “you didn’t even give them the chance. you just decided for everyone.”

aeri stepped forward again, voice trembling. “I lied because I’m ashamed of them, not you. I swear. but I get it, I hurt you. and I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you everything the second they showed up.”

yn looked at her again, softer now. not forgiving, not yet, but listening. “I just needed you to be honest. that’s all.”

aeri nodded, voice barely above a whisper. “I will. no more lies. not with you.”

yn didn’t reply, just let the silence fall again.

aeri stepped closer, her voice trembling now. “I can’t lose you, yn.”

yn looked over at her, eyes still guarded, but something in her expression cracked.

aeri’s hands balled into fists at her sides. “I was so stupid. I don’t even know why I said all that, why I let it get that far.” 

yn stayed quiet, letting her speak.

“you’re the only person who’s been keeping me sane,” aeri said, voice breaking now. 

“when my parents showed up, I couldn’t breathe. they walk into a room and suddenly I’m this version of myself I hate. I haven’t slept right since they got here, and the only time I felt okay was when you’d facetime me, or send me some dumb picture of your knee looking like a war wound.”

yn let out a small breath, half a laugh, half something else.

aeri kept going. “I need you, yn. I need us. and I can’t believe I did what I did. I lied to my parents about who you were, and worse, I didn’t give you the truth either. and you still showed up. you still came to check on me.

yn looked down for a moment, biting her lip. “I because I knew something was off, I just didn’t think it was this.”

aeri’s eyes were glassy now, her voice soft. “and I’m glad you did, you’re my girlfriend and I’ve been missing you more than anything, I just, didn’t know how to tell you the truth without losing you.”

yn’s silence stretched between them again, this time heavier with emotion.

aeri stepped even closer, just inches away now. “please. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this.”

yn stared at her for a moment, the tension in her shoulders slowly easing. “you can start by never calling me a business major again. I’m still offended.”

aeri let out a watery laugh, half relief and half disbelief. “deal.”

yn stuffed her hands into her pockets, glancing back toward the house with a half-smile. “and maybe…” she started, voice a little hesitant, “maybe this time you could introduce me to your parents properly?”

aeri blinked at her.

“only if you want to,” yn added quickly, kicking a pebble by her foot. “I can sneak through the back if you want. pretend this never happened.”

aeri rolled her eyes, but there was a soft grin tugging at her lips. “shut up.”

yn was about to chuckle when aeri suddenly grabbed her hand.

“no. you’re my girlfriend. you walked in there alone while I was hiding behind a lie and you didn’t flinch once. I’m not making you sneak around anything.” she squeezed her hand. “we’re doing it right this time.”

yn blinked at her, surprised. “you sure?”

“absolutely.” aeri took a deep breath, standing straighter. “come on.”

they walked back toward the house, fingers still laced, the evening air cool around them. when they reached the front door, aeri paused and turned to her.

“you look really hot in that polo, by the way,” she murmured.

yn smirked. “I was gonna return it, just to spite you.”

aeri gasped. “you better not.”

they pushed through the door together. aeri’s mom was standing in the hallway, clearly on her way to check outside, but froze when she saw them enter hand in hand.

aeri cleared her throat, not letting go of yn’s fingers. “mom, this is yn. my yn. not the nepo baby business major one, but the famous soccer player one.”

yn smiled politely, holding her posture. “it’s nice to meet you, officially.”

her mother blinked once, then gave a tight-lipped smile, still suspicious, but clearly trying. “my husband mentioned that you’re gonna be big? is that correct.”

yn’s smile didn’t waver. “hopefully.”

the older woman’s expression shifted slightly, her smile widening just a bit as she clasped her hands together. “well. now that that’s cleared up… come back and finish your plate. shrimp doesn’t taste the same reheated.”

she turned on her heel, but not before throwing a look over her shoulder. “and aeri, we need to talk about your outfits. if you’re gonna be a sports girlfriend, you need to make sure to show up to the games looking the best.”

aeri blinked. “did you just call me a wag?”

“a what?” her mom called from down the hallway, already halfway to the dining room.

aeri groaned, dragging her feet as yn chuckled quietly beside her.

“don’t act like you wouldn’t love to be my wag.”

aeri didn’t miss a beat. “shut up.”

but she was smiling.

[zlut4rina]

Stress Reliever

Storyline: Your day was exhausting, and what better to help relax? A nice bath.

Pairings: Toxicgf!Giselle x Femreader

Warnings: smut in the tub, that's literally it.

Note: Giselle, lwk a bad gf fr (js how I like it 🥀) I had a dream abt this.

Word count: 1k short kinds to the point.

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It was around 6 or 7 o’clock, you don’t remember. Nor did you bother to check.

Your morning was stressful, waking up with a headache, missing your alarm, causing you to be late for work. You had to make a late call out, not wanting to go in your current state. Though it upset your boss, you couldn’t find it in you to go back and forth with her about it. You mentally accepted your future punishment.

Spilling coffee on yourself, forgetting to take the laundry out, your room being a mess, and your girlfriend hasn’t texted you back since you wished each other goodnight. You weren’t going to text her anyway.

As time passed, you felt so burned out, everything was going wrong and just stressing you out. You decided it’d be time to relax. How could that go wrong? You ran yourself a bath, occasionally checking the time, it was 8:50. All day, your patience was tested, finally having alone time and being able to relax fully. You ran yourself a bath, the room fogged up almost immediately. The heat of the atmosphere soothing your tense muscles.

It was around 9:15 when you gathered all your things to bathe. Slowly stripping yourself, loving the feel of the heat in the atmosphere and the way it hugged your skin. A sigh leaves your lips as you fully undress. You slowly stepped out from your clothes beneath you. Dipping your foot in slowly, passing the barrier of bubbles into heated water. Finally, setting your entire body, shoulder deep into the hot water, the sound of bubbles popping and sizzling echoed in your ears.

After relaxing for a few seconds, you heard your phone go off with a buzz that vibrated the tub. You reached your hand put, shaking the pink tinted soap from your palm. You saw a notification from your girlfriend.

She only liked your message from a few hours ago. You bottled up some courage to respond to her, even if you were last to text.

-Hey

You stared at the screen, waiting, hoping.

-Hi

A small smile rose and fell in the corner of your lips. So dry, as if she was forced to speak to you. Before you could complete a sentence (you were just going to delete later). She sent another message.

-I miss you, wyd?

The first three words made your heart skip a beat. It was the bare minimum, but it still made you feel loved.

-I’m in the tub rn.

You responded, she took a while to reply. Her chat bubble coming and going repeatedly.

-Oh, that sounds relaxing. How was your day?

Giselle never really acted like your girlfriend, even though she asked you out in the beginning. She was like this even before you dated. Something about her was keeping you attached. Even if she doesn’t speak to you for days, you can move on.

-Hard

Was all you replied with. She hearted the message a few seconds later. This might’ve been your longest chat all week.

-Wanna show me?

This confused you, show you? Show her what? You stared at the screen for a while, guessing she sensed your confusion through the screen she spoke again.

-What you look like rn. I wanna see.

You should be mad right now. You really should. Her dismissing your stress and only focusing on her needs right now, disgusting. But then again, who knows the next time she’ll speak to you like this, you don’t even remember the last time you kissed each other. After a while, and the silence mixed with the sound of bubbles from your bath, you complied. You opened the camera and stared at yourself for a while, then panned it low and angled at your chest. Your breast covered in soap, silk and shiny, you placed your arm under the two of them, perking them up. You snapped a few, sending them all to her immediately after. She opened them, and she didn’t respond for about three minutes.

-You look good, baby

You smiled, that feeling of validation corrupting you. Hearting her message, you replied with a thank you. She then hearted your message again. Her chat bubbled went and came at its own pace.

-Can I join you?

This message came as a surprise. She hasn’t been over to your apartment in so long.

-I’ll be a raisin by the time you get here, silly.

Chuckling at your own response, the water moving around your legs, still hot.

-Sounds like I’ll need to plump you back up huh.

The time was 9:43. You weren’t in there for long, but you still felt the need to add more hot water, maybe to please her, most likely. She was coming. You couldn’t talk her out of it even if you tried. You wanted her to come, you really did, it’s been so long.

She arrived at 9:57, her she lived almost an hour away, made you think she was waiting for this opportunity, or she was out somewhere she shouldn’t be, who knows. She knocked on the door before entering with the key you landed her. She didn’t text you that she was here, not cause she wanted to surprise you. She just didn’t do it. She didn’t knock on the bathroom door, she opened it slowly, peaking her head through, she smiled at you, that same smile you missed.

You sunk beneath the bubbles, you wet hair sticking to your shoulders and face. You looked at her with rosy cheeks. From the heat of the bath or her? You don’t even know. You never knew with her. “Room for another?” she asked, fully stepping into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. You nodded, your face flushed with a sheepish toothy smile.

She found you so cute in that moment, so vulnerable, so needy. She began to strip herself, slow, sensually locking eyes with you. You couldn’t look away, no matter how embarrassed you were. She drove you crazy, and she knew it. In the worst way, sometimes, in the best. Times like that were now. Fully stripping, she walked to you, pushing you by your shoulders as you scooted up to give her room. She placed herself behind you, pulling your back against her warm naked breast. You sat in between her legs, her arms wrapped around you waist under the water.

Giselle’s fingers dances across your skin, slow and skillfully. Exploring your curves and sensitive spots. She leaned closer to you, her breath warm against your ear, adding to the heat of the atmosphere. Kissing your ear and down to your cheek, her grip on you tightens, pulling you as close as possible. “I missed you.” You admitted. You didn’t mean to say that, out loud. You could feel the grin on her the side of your cheek. “Yeah?” she asked in a slow, husky tone. Her hands squeeze your hips, then slowly rise to your breast, pinching and twisting your nipples. You lean back into her embrace, and the back of your head rests on her shoulder. She took the opportunity to kiss and attack your neck, leaving marks and hickeys from your jawline to tour Adam’s apple.

She squeezes your soapy breast, fondling them in her hands, igniting a flame in your core. You closed your legs together, holding onto her thighs. “You like that, don’t you?” she whispered against your wet skin. Her tongue was trailing a line from your Adam’s apple to your jawline till she reached your warm plump lips. Overtaking you into a dominating wet kiss. Her hands squeezed and pinched your breast harder, making you moan into her kiss. “I wish could keep you like this forever” her tone teasing yet sincere, revealing her possessive affection she has for you. You open your eyes, locking with her. Wet and pleading, you spoke with your eyes, spit stuck to your bottom lip from her kiss. Your look drove her mad, she missed this, she knew it was her fault, that’s just how she is.

She slides her hand up you’re your neck, holding you in place as her other went down to your core. She leans in and whispers in your ear, “Your mine now.” Her voice laced with the drug of possession. Giselle let’s go of you, rising from the water and stepping out. “I’ll be right back” she said to you before leaving the bathroom. You stated at her figure for a split second, that’s all the time she gave you anyway. With a playfully glint in her eyes, she returns, her arm wrapped behind her back. Setting back down behind you, aligning you between her legs perfectly. She lifted your legs up to your chest and lifted them over hers. “What are you-“ Your words were cut off when she used one of her hands to spread your folds and push a vibrator in. Your mouth hung open as you gasped, the vibrator begins it’s work inside you.

Her hands rise back up to your breast, playing with them like a child would toys. Giselle ensured the pleasure on you builds with every passing moment. The combination of Giselle's skillful hands and the vibrations of the toy pushing you closer to the edge. Giselle’s small low chuckles as she watches your body’s cute reaction to her echoed through the room. A mix of joy and mischief as she leans in and kisses your neck, whispering sweet nothings to heighten your pleasure.

The toy intensifies inside you, Giselle kissing and marking you, she slowly dragged her hand from your breast to your clit, circling it slowly. You held onto her arm, and your other hand dug into her thigh. Your moans and whines mixing into the heat of the moment. “That’s it baby.” She kisses and bites your somehow empty unmarked spaces on your neck. “I wanna hear you scream for me.” You gasp softly, your body trembling with the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. You turn your head slightly, your breath hitching in your throat as you lean and sink into Giselle’s warm and possessive embrace. You pull her into a kiss, whispering against her warm sweet lips how close you were to your climax. She smiled, her fingers moved faster in your clit, her other hand pinching and tugging at your nipple. You moaned against her jawline, panting heavily as you clenched around the toy, feeling the knot in your stomach fight back.

“Cum for me baby” Her voice soft and reassuring. You did, on command, so good for her. You came hard, but It felt so relaxing, so free, you needed this, you needed her. You pants and gasp filled the room. She planted soft kisses on your forehead and temple. “Your amazing, you know that?” her speech was genuine, sorry, and caring. You smiled weakly at her, pulling her into a kiss. “I love you, you know that?” she spoke against your lips. You nodded, stating her in the eyes. “I know.” Kissing her again, her hands roamed your sides again, slow and loving. “I love you too”

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