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📖 Masterlist I

My first collection of works.

Contains: One Shots Yandere Collection Ongoing Series Requests Imagines

➜ Read Masterlist I Here: Masterlist I

📚 Masterlist II

New stories, latest updates, and future releases.

Contains: New One Shots New Series Recently Published Works Future Requests Latest Imagines

➜ Read Masterlist II Here: Masterlist II

You were scrolling through your phone on the couch when the video popped up.

It was everywhere — trending on every platform. Karina, your girlfriend of almost two years, had posted a new behind-the-scenes clip from aespa’s latest photoshoot. She was wearing those tiny black shorts that barely covered anything, and the camera angle was sinful. The video focused on her long, toned legs as she moved, the way her thighs flexed and jiggled slightly with every step. The comments were flooded with thirst.

You bit your lip hard, staring at the screen. Heat pooled low in your stomach. You had seen Karina’s thighs countless times — wrapped around your head, squeezing your waist, trembling under your touch — but seeing them like this, viral and exposed to the world, did something dangerous to you.

“Karina’s thighs could kill me and I’d thank her.”

“Those legs are illegal.”

“I need to be crushed by them immediately.”

The front door clicked open.

“I’m home!” Karina called out, voice tired but bright.

You didn’t answer right away. You were still staring at the paused video, her thighs frozen on your screen.

Karina walked into the living room, still in her practice clothes — oversized hoodie and those damn shorts. She noticed your expression immediately.

“Babe?” She tilted her head, a small smirk forming. “What’s got you so focused?”

You looked up at her, eyes dark. You bit your lip again without thinking.

Karina’s smirk grew. She set her bag down and walked over, standing between your legs. “Is it the video?”

You nodded slowly, voice low. “Your thighs look… fuck, Karina. I can’t stop staring.”

She laughed softly, but there was a flush creeping up her neck. She climbed onto your lap, straddling you, her thick thighs pressing against your sides.

“You like them that much?” she teased, rolling her hips once.

You groaned, hands immediately grabbing her thighs, squeezing the soft, firm flesh. “I need them. Right now.”

Karina’s eyes darkened. She leaned down and kissed you slowly, teasingly. “Then take them, baby.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

You flipped her onto her back on the couch, kissing her hard and deep. Your hands roamed up her thighs, gripping and kneading them like you were obsessed. Karina moaned into your mouth, legs wrapping around your waist.

But you had something else in mind.

You pulled back, breathing heavily. “I want you to sit on my face.”

Karina’s eyes widened slightly, then filled with heat. “Yeah?”

“Please,” you whispered, already sliding down the couch. “I want to drown in you.”

She bit her lip, clearly turned on by how desperate you sounded. She stood up and stripped off her shorts and panties, leaving just the oversized hoodie on. You laid down fully on the couch, looking up at her with hungry eyes.

Karina climbed over you, hovering above your face. She looked down at you, cheeks flushed. “You sure?”

You nodded eagerly, hands gripping her thick thighs. “Sit, baby. Please.”

She lowered herself slowly.

The moment her wet pussy made contact with your mouth, you moaned loudly. You were instantly addicted. Your tongue licked a long stripe up her folds, tasting her. Karina gasped, hands gripping the back of the couch for balance.

“Fuck… your mouth feels so good,” she whimpered.

You didn’t hold back. You devoured her like a woman starved. Your tongue circled her clit, then pushed inside her, fucking her with it. You sucked on her folds, licked every inch you could reach. Your hands gripped her thighs tightly, pulling her down harder onto your face.

Karina started grinding against you, riding your tongue. “Oh my god… yes, just like that—”

You were completely pussy drunk.

Your world narrowed down to her taste, her scent, the weight of her thighs squeezing your head. You moaned loudly into her, the vibrations making her shake. You sucked harder on her clit, tongue flicking fast.

Karina’s moans grew louder, breathier. “Baby— fuck, you’re so good at this. Eating my pussy like you can’t live without it.”

You couldn’t.

You were drowning happily between her thighs, tongue working faster, nose bumping her clit with every movement. Your hands squeezed her ass, encouraging her to ride your face harder.

She did.

Karina started bouncing slightly, grinding down with more force. Her thighs trembled around your head. You could barely breathe, but you didn’t care. You wanted her to smother you.

“I’m gonna cum—” she gasped, hips moving faster.

You sucked her clit hard and pushed your tongue deep inside her.

Karina came with a loud cry, thighs clamping around your head as she shook. You kept licking her through it, drinking every drop, completely lost in her.

Even after she came, you didn’t stop. You were too drunk on her. Your tongue kept moving, slower but still hungry, cleaning her up and building her toward another orgasm.

“Baby— oh fuck, you’re really pussy drunk tonight, huh?” Karina laughed breathlessly, but her voice broke into a moan as you sucked on her clit again.

She came a second time, harder, hips jerking against your face.

Only then did you finally ease up, kissing her thighs softly, leaving little marks on the soft flesh you loved so much.

Karina climbed off, legs shaking, and collapsed beside you. She pulled you into a deep kiss, tasting herself on your tongue.

“You’re so obsessed with my thighs,” she murmured against your lips, amused and turned on.

You buried your face in her neck, still breathing hard. “Can’t help it. Especially after that video.”

She laughed softly and pulled you closer. “Good. Because they’re all yours.”

You spent the rest of the night between her legs — licking, sucking, and worshipping her until she was a trembling, oversensitive mess.

But today, the rules were testing both of you.

The library on the third floor was always your safe haven—quiet, dim, and far from the chaos of campus life. Especially from her.

Jang Wonyoung.

The girl everyone whispered about, the one who walked through the quad like the whole university was her runway. Popular, untouchable, with that sharp jawline, long legs, and a smile that could make half the student body weak.

No one knew she was yours.

And you made damn sure it stayed that way.

You two had rules: no glances in the hallway, no texts during class, no lingering near each other on campus. At school, you were strangers. Behind closed doors? You were completely, pathetically downbad for her.

You were tucked in the far corner, headphones on, pretending to study for your literature exam when a soft voice interrupted.

“Hey… Y/N, right?” A girl with shoulder-length hair and a confident grin slid into the seat across from you. She was from your psych class—Michaela, you thought. She’d been throwing flirty comments your way for weeks. “Mind if I join? I could use some company… and maybe your notes. I can't understand some lessons earlier.”

You gave her a polite smile, shifting uncomfortably. “Uh, sure. Notes are right here.” You slid your notebook over, keeping it casual. But Michaela leaned in closer than necessary, her fingers brushing yours as she pointed at something on the page.

“You smell really good, by the way,” she murmured, eyes sparkling. “And you’ve got this quiet-hot nerd thing going on. We should grab coffee sometime. My treat.”

Your cheeks heated. Before you could respond, a familiar presence filled the air. You didn’t even need to look up. The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

Wonyoung stood at the end of the aisle, books in her arms, her usual elegant composure cracking just enough for you to notice the fire in her eyes. She was in her signature oversized cardigan and pleated skirt, hair cascading perfectly over one shoulder. Heads turned. Of course they did. She was Wonyoung.

Michaela blinked, clearly surprised. “Oh… Wonyoung-sunbae? Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Y/N,” she said softly, voice sweet but edged with steel. “We need to talk. Now.”

Wonyoung’s gaze didn’t even flicker to Michaela.

It was locked on you.

That possessive glint—the one she only let out when you were alone—burned bright.

She stepped closer, ignoring the way Michaela’s mouth fell open as Wonyoung reached out and gently but firmly closed your notebook.

Michaela's eyes widened like she’d seen a ghost. “Wait… you two know each other? Like… know each other?”

You didn’t give Wonyoung the chance to answer. Your heart was hammering, a mix of panic and that dizzying thrill she always gave you. You shot up from your chair, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her toward the emergency exit stairs at the back of the library. “Come on.”

“You let her touch you,” she hissed, eyes dark. One hand pinned your waist, the other tilting your chin up. “Flirting back like I wasn’t two shelves away watching every second.”

The door clicked shut behind you, cutting off the whispers. The stairwell was empty, dimly lit, and smelled faintly of old books and dust.

The second you were alone, Wonyoung spun you around, pressing you against the wall with a strength that made your knees weak.

When she pulled back, her lipstick was slightly smudged, and her breathing was ragged. “You’re mine, Y/N. Mine. I don’t care if the whole campus thinks I’m single. They don’t get to touch what’s mine.”

“I wasn’t—” Your protest died the moment her lips crashed into yours. It wasn’t gentle. It was hungry, claiming. Her body molded against yours, thigh slipping between your legs as she kissed you like she wanted to erase Michaela’s existence from your skin.

You melted instantly—god, you were so downbad for her it was embarrassing. A tiny whimper escaped your throat, and she swallowed it, deepening the kiss until you were breathless.

Your hands fisted in her cardigan, pulling her closer. “I know… I only want you, Wonnie. Always.” Your voice came out embarrassingly needy, but you didn’t care. You never did with her.

Wonyoung’s smirk was dangerous. “Good girl.”

She didn’t waste time. Her fingers slipped under your skirt, pushing your panties aside as she found you already soaked. “So wet for me already? Just from me getting a little jealous?” She circled your clit with expert pressure, making your hips jerk. You buried your face in her neck, biting down to muffle your moans as two long fingers slid inside you.

“F-fuck, Wonyoung…” You rocked against her hand, desperate, shameless. She pumped faster, curling just right, her thumb never leaving your swollen clit. The stairwell echoed with the wet sounds and your broken whimpers.

“Look at me,” she commanded. You obeyed, eyes glassy with lust. She was watching you fall apart like it was her favorite view in the world. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” you gasped, thighs trembling. “Only you—ah—please…”

She kissed you again, possessive and filthy, as she pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm hit hard, waves crashing through you while she held you up, murmuring praises against your lips. “That’s it, baby. So perfect for me.”

You were still panting when she withdrew her fingers and brought them to her own mouth, licking them clean with a satisfied hum. Your face burned, but you couldn’t stop staring. Downbad didn’t even cover it.

Before you could drop to your knees and return the favor, the distant sound of footsteps echoed from below. Wonyoung fixed your skirt with careful hands, then cupped your face.

“Tonight. My dorm.” she whispered, pressing one last soft kiss to your forehead. “And if anyone flirts with you again… I won’t be so quiet about it.”

You nodded, heart full and body buzzing. As you both slipped back into the library through different doors, you caught Michaela’s stunned face from across the room. She looked like she’d just watched the impossible.

Let her stare.

The dorm felt extra quiet that night after hours of practice. The comeback choreo had everyone wiped out, but Winter was still up, pacing around the living room like she couldn't sit still. You were curled up on the floor with your phone, but you kept glancing at her.

"Unnie, you okay?" you asked softly, putting your phone down.

Winter ran a hand through her messy hair and flopped onto the couch with a big sigh. "No, I'm not. This new comeback is stressing me the fuck out, Y/N. The dance is so sharp, my voice cracks every time I try to hit the high notes in recording, and the schedule… it's endless. I feel so tense, like my whole body is tied in knots. I just wanna scream or… or something."

You scooted closer, resting your chin on the edge of the couch near her leg. "I know. You've been working so hard. Everyone can see it. Maybe you should rest or—"

"Rest?" She let out a short laugh, but it sounded tired. "I wish it was that easy. Honestly? I really need to get laid right now. Like, properly fucked until my brain shuts up. But I can't. One little rumor and Dispatch is on our asses. Scandal would ruin everything for aespa." She looked at you, her cheeks a little pink. "God, I sound desperate, huh?"

Your heart skipped. You'd always had this soft spot for her, wanting to make her feel good any way you could. You swallowed and said quietly, "What if I help you, unnie? No one has to know. It's just us here. The girls are all sleeping. I could… I could eat you out. Make you cum and help you relax."

Winter's eyes widened, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she sat up a bit, staring at you. "Y/N… you're really offering that? To go down on me?" Her voice got lower, softer. "You'd do that for me?"

"Yeah," you nodded, feeling shy but sure. "I want to. I've thought about it before. Let me take care of you tonight. You don't even have to touch me back if you're too tired."

She bit her lip, then smiled a little. "Come here, baby." She patted the spot right next to her. When you sat down, she cupped your face gently and kissed you. Her lips were soft and warm, tasting like the strawberry lip balm she always wore. The kiss started slow, then got deeper, her tongue brushing yours and making your stomach flutter.

"Mmm, you taste sweet," she murmured against your mouth. "Lock the door first, okay? Just in case."

You got up quick and clicked the lock, heart racing. When you turned back, Winter had already kicked off her shorts, leaving her in just her big t-shirt. Her thighs looked so smooth under the dim lamp light.

You knelt between her legs again, hands resting on her knees. "Can I?" you whispered.

Winter nodded, spreading her legs a little more. "Yeah. Start slow, baby. I want to feel your tongue everywhere."

You leaned in, pressing soft kisses along her inner thigh first. She smelled warm and a little musky from the long day, but it just made you want her more. Your tongue finally touched her pussy—soft, wet folds that made her sigh right away.

"Ohhh fuck, Y/N," she breathed, one hand sliding into your hair. "That feels nice already. Lick me properly… yeah, like that."

You dragged your tongue up slowly from her entrance to her clit, tasting her sweetness mixed with salt. She was getting wetter fast, her juices coating your lips. You circled her clit with the tip of your tongue, gentle at first, listening to every little sound she made.

"Right there, unnie?" you asked softly, looking up at her flushed face.

"Yes— shit, don't stop talking to me," she moaned quietly. "Tell me how I taste while you eat me."

You blushed but kept licking. "You taste so good, unnie. Sweet and warm. I love it." Then you sucked her clit gently between your lips, humming a little so the vibration hit her.

Winter's hips bucked. "Ahh! Good girl… fuck, your mouth is perfect. Put a finger in me now. I need to feel full."

You slid one finger inside her slowly. She was so hot and tight, walls squeezing around you. You added a second one when she started grinding against your hand, curling them up to find that spot that made her gasp loud.

"Like this?" you mumbled against her pussy, not wanting to pull away.

"Exactly like that— oh my god," she panted. Her fingers tightened in your hair, guiding your head. "Suck harder on my clit while you finger me. I'm so close already… you've got me dripping all over your pretty face."

The wet sounds of your fingers pumping in and out filled the quiet room, mixed with her soft moans and your own little whimpers. Her thighs started shaking around your ears, soft and warm. You could feel her getting tighter, wetter.

"I'm gonna cum, baby— don't stop eating my pussy, please," Winter begged, voice shaky. "Yes, yes, just like that! Fuck—!"

She came hard, back arching, thighs clamping around your head as her juices flooded your tongue. You kept licking gently through it, tasting every bit until she gently pushed you back, breathing heavy.

"Come up here," she said, voice all husky. She pulled you onto her lap and kissed you deep, tongue licking into your mouth like she wanted to taste herself. "Mmm, I can taste how much you made me cum. You're amazing, Y/N. Such a sweet little sub for me."

You hid your face in her neck, embarrassed but happy. "Did it really help your stress, unnie?"

"So much," she laughed softly, hands running down your back. "But now I wanna make you feel good too. You're soaked, I can feel it on my thigh." Her fingers slipped under your shorts, rubbing your wet pussy through your panties. "Tell me what you want, baby. Use your words."

You whimpered, rocking against her hand. "Your fingers inside me… while you kiss me. Please, unnie."

Winter grinned and flipped you gently onto your back on the couch. She kissed you slow and messy, tasting like strawberries and sex, while she pulled your shorts and panties down. Two fingers pushed into you easy because you were so wet.

"Listen to how wet you are," she teased, thrusting them in and out. "All from eating me out? My good girl gets turned on so easily."

"It feels so good," you moaned against her lips, legs wrapping around her. Her fingers curled perfectly, hitting that spot over and over while her thumb rubbed your clit in circles. The couch creaked a little under you.

"Cum for me," she whispered hot against your ear. "Let me hear those pretty sounds. Cum on my fingers, baby."

You did, burying your face in her shoulder to muffle your cry as pleasure hit you hard. Your whole body shook, pussy clenching around her fingers.

After, she held you close under a blanket, stroking your hair and back. "Thank you for offering tonight," she murmured. "I feel so much lighter now. We should do this again whenever the comeback stress gets bad. Deal?"

"Deal," you whispered, smiling. "Anytime you need me to eat you out or whatever… I'm yours, unnie."

Winter kissed your forehead. "Good. Now sleep. We have early practice tomorrow, but at least I'll be less tense."

The secret relationship you had with Cassie Howard was built on shadows and adrenaline. For months, it was always the same routine. She would text you late at night—usually after a fight with Maddy or when her mom was drinking too much—and show up at your apartment door looking like a beautiful, broken mess. You were a theatre nerd girl who kept to yourself, and Cassie loved that about you. She loved that you were strong, that you didn’t talk too much, and that you wrapped your arms around her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

But then, the bomb dropped at school. Nate and Maddy broke up for good.

The next day, you sat at your usual table in the courtyard, watching Cassie walk by with her head down. You caught her eye, expecting the usual secret smile or the subtle nod she always gave you. Instead, her eyes went totally cold. She looked straight through you, walking right past your table like you were a complete stranger.

That night, you texted her: “You good?”

No response.

Two days later: “Cassie, what’s going on?”

Left on read.

By the time a month passed, the whole school knew the truth. Cassie and Nate were official. You saw them together in the parking lot—Nate’s heavy arm slung over her shoulders, and Cassie looking up at him with that desperate, eager-to-please smile.

You didn't beg.

You didn't leave voicemails crying into the phone. You knew exactly what you were to her:

a placeholder.

A secret situationship till she got the guy she actually wanted. So, you chose to respect yourself.

You blocked her number, started skipping the school parties, and poured all your energy into studying for college applications, spending your evenings at the library or inside your quiet apartment.

But your silence was making Cassie lose her mind.

At first, Cassie felt a sick sense of relief. She thought, Y/N isn't making trouble for me and Nate. But as the weeks went on, she started looking for you in the hallways.

She expected you to stare at her with puppy-dog eyes.

She expected you to confront her in the parking lot or slide into her DMs begging for an explanation.

Instead, you did absolutely nothing. You looked happier. You looked hot, completely unbothered, and entirely out of her reach. Nate was constantly screaming at her, controlling what she wore, and judging her every move. She had achieved her dream of being with him, but she felt more empty than ever—and she realized she craved the raw, unconditional way you used to look at her.

On a rainy Friday night, Cassie couldn't handle the emptiness anymore. Nate had canceled their date to go drink with his toxic friends, leaving her completely alone.

Using the spare key she had stolen from your cabinet months ago, she unlocked your apartment door and stepped inside.

The apartment smelled like you—expensive cologne, leather, and old books.

She walked through your living room, her fingers tracing the edge of your couch.

She went into your bedroom, opening your closet just to touch your oversized flannels and jackets. A dark, toxic wave of possessiveness rushed through her. This is my place.

She’s supposed to be crying over me here.

Suddenly, the click of the front door echoed through the small apartment.

Panicking, Cassie scrambled into your bedroom closet, pulling the slatted wooden doors shut until there was just a tiny crack for her to peek through.

You walked into the bedroom, laughing loudly at something. But you weren't alone. Walking right behind you was Dahlia, a pretty girl from your theater club.

"I'm telling you, Dean's face was so funny when he found out that his collection of trophies was destroyed. ," Dahlia joked, tossing her backpack onto your desk.

" No freaking way, Dahlia," you smirked, taking off your leather jacket and tossing it onto the bed.

You looked relaxed, your short hair a little messy from the rain, the silver chain around your neck catching the dim light of the lamp.

Dahlia smiled, stepping closer to you. "Thanks for letting me study here. My roommates are having a party tonight."

"Anytime," you said softly.

Dahlia looked up at you, her eyes dropping to your lips. Without warning, she reached up, placing her hands on your chest, and pulled you down into a kiss.

Cassie’s breath hitched in the closet. Her heart violently slammed against her ribs as she watched you hesitate for a split second, and then wrap your strong arms around Dahlia's waist, deepening the kiss.

Seeing your hands—the hands that used to hold her so gently—gripping another girl's waist made something violently snap inside Cassie’s brain. A white-hot, manic rage took over.

BANG!

Cassie kicked the closet doors open so hard they rattled against the wall.

"Get the fuck off her!" Cassie shrieked, storming out of the darkness like a literal ghost.

You jumped back, completely tearing yourself away from Dahlia, your eyes wide with absolute shock. "Cassie?! What the actual hell?!"

Dahlia gasped, stumbling backward in terror as Cassie marched straight toward her. Cassie didn't even look like herself; her blonde hair was messy, her eyes were completely bloodshot, and her chest was heaving.

Before Dahlia could even speak, Cassie grabbed her by the upper arm, her acrylic nails digging directly into the girl's skin. "You need to leave. Right now!" Cassie yelled, dragging Dahlia toward the bedroom door.

"Hey! Drop her! Let go of her right now!" you shouted, rushing forward and grabbing Cassie’s wrist, trying to break her grip. But Cassie had a terrifying, adrenaline-fueled strength. She ignored you completely, dragging a crying Dahlia through the living room.

Cassie threw open the apartment front door and literally pushed Dahlia out into the rainy hallway, throwing her backpack out after her. "If you ever come near my girl again, I will fucking kill you! Do you hear me?! Stay away from her!"

Cassie slammed the heavy door shut, locked the deadbolt with a loud click, and turned around to face you, panting like a wild animal.

"Are you completely insane?!" you roared, your voice shaking the entire apartment. You walked right up to her, your masculine frame towering over her, your face red with pure fury.

"Who the fuck do you think you are? You chose Nate! You ghosted me for a whole month! You don't get to come into my home and touch my guest!"

"She's not a guest, she’s a whore!" Cassie screamed back, stepping directly into your chest, refusing to back down. Tears finally spilled over her flushed cheeks. "You think I don't see what you're doing? You're trying to replace me! You're trying to act like I didn't mean anything to you!"

"You didn't!" you lied, your voice cracking. "You used me for pleasure, Cassie! You threw me away the second Nate became available!"

"Because I was scared!" Cassie sobbed, suddenly grabbing the collar of your shirt with both hands, bunching the fabric tightly in her fists. She leaned her forehead against your chest, her voice dropping into a desperate, trembling whisper. "But it didn't work, Y/N. I'm with him, but all I think about is you. Every time he touches me, I wish it was your hands. I see you in the halls and you don't even look at me, and it's killing me. It's literally killing me."

You stared down at her, your heart pounding. You wanted to hate her. You wanted to push her out into the rain just like she did to Dahlia. But looking at her beautiful, ruined face, and feeling the desperate grip she had on your clothes, your anger suddenly melted into a toxic, dark lust.

"You're a psycho, Cassie, You need a fucking help!" you growled softly.

"I'm your psycho and I need you," she whispered.

Cassie pulled herself up on her tiptoes and crashed her mouth against yours. The kiss was pure chaos. It tasted like salt from her tears and the cold rain from outside. It was angry, messy, and full of a dangerous hunger. You groaned, your self-control completely fracturing as you grabbed her thighs, lifting her up effortlessly.

Cassie wrapped her legs tightly around your waist, burying her face in your neck, biting down on your collarbone hard enough to make you hiss in pain. You carried her back into the bedroom, slamming her down onto the mattress.

As you made love, the atmosphere in the room completely changed. It wasn't like the sweet, hidden sweet moments you used to have. This was dark, heavy, and possessive. Cassie wasn't letting you lead. She rolled over, pushing you flat onto your back, and pinned your wrists above your head against the pillows.

A cold shiver ran straight down your spine. Cassie’s eyes were wide, completely dilated, and locked onto yours with a terrifying, unhinged intensity. She was smiling, but it was a scary, manic smile.

"Look at me, Y/N," Cassie whispered frantically, her breath hot against your face as she moved against you, asserting total control. Her nails scratched deeply into your wrists, holding you down. "Look at me. Tell me you belong to me."

"Cassie... let go of my hands," you gasped, feeling a sudden wave of genuine fear at how far gone she looked.

"No!" she cried out, her voice sharp and echoing in the quiet room. She leaned down, biting your jawline sharply before whispering right into your ear. "You're never touching another girl again. I don't care if I'm with Nate. You're mine If I ever see anyone else in this apartment, I will do something really, really bad, Y/N. I mean it. I’ll ruin them. I’ll ruin us."

You lay there beneath her, completely frozen as the chills continued to rack your body. You had thought Cassie Howard was just a sad, men self centered girl who needed validation. But looking into her dark, obsessed eyes in the dim light of your bedroom, you realized the terrifying truth.

The morning sun was filtering softly through the sheer curtains of the bedroom, casting a warm, golden glow across the sheets. Ningning groaned softly, blinking her eyes open. She instinctively reached out her arm to cuddle into her favorite spot, expecting to feel the familiar warmth of her girlfriend. Instead, her hand hit cold, empty mattress.

She opened her eyes fully and pouted, her lips forming a prominent, dramatic frown.

Y/N was gone.

Just as she was about to whine out loud, a faint sound drifted through the cracked bedroom door. It was the low, smooth murmur of Y/N’s voice coming from the kitchen. Ningning smiled, her mood instantly lifting. She slipped out of bed, her oversized hoodie hanging off one shoulder, and padded quietly down the hallway.

As she got closer to the kitchen, the sound of the words became clearer.

Y/N wasn't speaking Korean, or even English. She was speaking Spanish.

Ningning stopped right at the doorway, leaning her shoulder against the frame. She bit her lower lip, her eyes wide with absolute fascination. Y/N was leaning against the kitchen counter, a mug of coffee in one hand and her phone pressed to her ear with the other.

She was dressed in her business casual clothes—clearly getting ready for a big meeting later—and the contrast between her professional look and the casual way she was pacing the kitchen was doing things to Ningning’s heart.

"Sí, entiendo perfectamente. Por favor, envía el contrato revisado antes de la reunión de las dos. Gracias,"Y/N said, her voice dropping into a deeper, incredibly confident tone that made Ningning’s knees feel a little weak.

Ningning didn’t understand a single word, but she didn’t care. To her, Y/N looked impossibly hot. There was something about the way the syllables rolled off Y/N's tongue, combined with that sharp, businesswoman authority, that made Ningning feel like the luckiest girl alive.

As she stood there admiring her girlfriend, Ningning’s mind drifted back to how they had even ended up here. It still felt like a movie when she thought about it.

A year ago, aespa was in Europe for a major fashion week and a schedule. Ningning, being her usual adventurous self, had snuck out of the hotel during some free time to explore the beautiful, winding European streets.

But her phone battery had died, the streets all started looking exactly the same, and before she knew it, she was completely, utterly lost.

As the sun began to set, panic had set in. She didn't know the way back, she couldn't call her manager, and fans or paparazzi could spot her at any moment. She had felt so small, scared, and completely hopeless, sitting on a bench near a quiet plaza, blinking back tears.

And then, Y/N had appeared.

Y/N had been walking back from a business dinner, looking effortlessly chic, when she noticed the girl looking distressed. She had approached Ningning gently, asking if she was okay.

When Ningning explained her situation in broken English, Y/N hadn’t judged her or made a big deal out of it. Instead, she had bought Ningning a warm drink, let her use her phone charger, and personally walked her all the way back to the safety of her hotel.

For Ningning, it was literal love at first sight.

The moment Y/N had smiled at her under the dim European streetlights, Ningning’s heart had made up its mind. She didn't care about the rules. Right before she walked into the hotel lobby, Ningning had grabbed a piece of paper, scribbled her personal phone number on it, and shoved it into Y/N’s hand with a bright, determined blush.

Y/N had stood there on the sidewalk, completely confused. As a businesswoman who understood how the entertainment industry worked, she knew exactly who Ningning was, and she knew it was incredibly dangerous for a top K-pop idol to just hand out their number to a stranger.

But Ningning genuinely did not give a single care. In that exact moment, looking at Y/N, Ningning was already imagining their future together. She just knew they were meant to be.

A soft chuckle broke Ningning out of her flashback. Y/N had hung up the phone and was now looking right at the doorway, a amused smile playing on her lips. "How long have you been standing there staring at me, Ningie?"

"You're so hot," Ningning blurted out honestly, not even trying to hide it. She whined playfully and stomped her feet lightly, walking over to Y/N with her arms wide open.

Y/N laughed, setting her coffee mug down just in time to catch the idol in her arms. Ningning wrapped her arms tightly around Y/N’s neck, burying her face into her shoulder. "You left the bed. I woke up and you weren't there," Ningning complained, her voice muffled against Y/N’s skin.

"I had an early call with our Madrid branch, baby. I'm sorry," Y/N murmured gently, rubbing Ningning’s back.

Ningning pulled back just enough to look into Y/N’s eyes. Without saying another word, she leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against Y/N’s. The kiss was soft, sweet, and tasted faintly of morning coffee. Y/N kissed her back deeply, hands resting securely on Ningning’s waist, pulling her closer.

When they finally broke apart, Ningning was blushing, a bright smile on her face.

"Teach me," Ningning demanded suddenly, poking Y/N’s cheek.

"Teach you what?" Y/N asked, smiling at her girlfriend's sudden burst of energy.

"Spanish! I want to learn basic Spanish. What did you say at the end of the call? Muchas gracias?" Ningning attempted, her pronunciation surprisingly good.

Y/N’s eyes lit up. "Wow, your accent is actually really cute. Yes, muchas gracias means thank you very much."

"Muchas gracias," Ningning repeated, feeling proud of herself. "And how do you say my love?"

"That’s mi amor," Y/N said softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Ningning’s forehead.

Ningning’s heart did a little flip. "Mi amor," she whispered back, testing the words on her lips. She giggled, hugging Y/N tightly again. "I like it. I'm going to use it."

A few months later, aespa was in the middle of preparing for their brand new comeback. The girls were experimenting with different genres, and one of the highly anticipated B-side tracks was a fun, refreshing song called "Lemonade."

During the production phase, the company allowed the members to participate in the creative process. Ningning had sat in the studio for hours, staring at the lyrics sheet for her rap and vocal verses. She wanted to make it special.

As she hummed the melody of her line, she remembered the morning in the kitchen, and a brilliant idea struck her. She grabbed her pen and eagerly added a new line into the pre-chorus, smiling to herself. She couldn't wait for Y/N to hear it.

Finally, the day of the music video and album release arrived.

Y/N had come home early from the office, entirely clearing her schedule just to celebrate with her girlfriend. They were curled up together on their big living room couch, the TV screen glowing in front of them. Ningning was practically vibrating with excitement, her head resting on Y/N’s chest while Y/N held the remote.

"Are you ready?" Y/N asked, kissing the top of Ningning’s head.

"Yes! Play it, play it!" Ningning cheered.

Y/N clicked play on the "Lemonade" special track video. The music was upbeat, catchy, and the visuals were stunning. Y/N watched with a proud smile, completely captivated by how amazing all the members looked.

Then, Ningning’s center part came up.

The screen cut to a solo shot of Ningning looking incredibly fierce, confident, and breathtakingly gorgeous. She delivered her lines flawlessly, and right before the beat dropped into the main chorus, Ningning looked directly into the camera, gave a devastatingly seductive look, and sang clearly:

"Muchas gracias, mi amor."

Y/N’s jaw literally dropped. She froze, staring at the screen as the video continued to play.

Ningning turned her head to look at her girlfriend, a smug, teasing grin spreading across her face. "Do you like it?"

Y/N didn't even answer. She immediately grabbed the remote, hit the rewind button, and replayed Ningning’s part.

Once. Twice. Three times.

"Oh my god," Y/N breathed out, watching the loop of her girlfriend looking like an absolute goddess while singing the Spanish words they had shared in their kitchen. "Ningie, you are so hot. This is illegal."

Y/N put the clip on repeat again, her eyes glued to the screen, completely amazed by how powerful and charismatic her girlfriend was as an idol.

Ningning giggled loudly, feeling incredibly accomplished. She crawled over into Y/N’s lap, blocking the view of the TV, and took the remote out of Y/N’s hand, tossing it onto the cushions.

"Don't look at the TV," Ningning whispered, her voice dropping into a playful, romantic tone. "Look at me."

Y/N looked down at the beautiful girl sitting in her lap, her heart bursting with love. "You are incredible, you know that? Mi amor."

Ningning beamed, wrapping her arms around Y/N's neck just like she did every morning. "Muchas gracias," she whispered against Y/N’s lips right before closing the distance between them.

Around her stood her usual clique—Chloe, Jessica, and her boyfriend Mike, who was leaning against the locker next to hers, spinning a football in his hands.

Kazuha was the undisputed queen of the school. She was beautiful, rich, and notoriously mean. If you weren’t in her circle, you didn’t exist. And if you got on her bad side, she would make your life a living hell.

"Hey, Kazuha, look over there," Chloe whispered, nudging Kazuha’s arm and pointing toward the main office. "The principal is walking around with that new transfer student. God, look at her sweater. It’s so oversized and ugly. She looks like a total loser."

Kazuha closed her compact mirror with a sharp snap and smirked. A cruel, bored idea popped into her head. "A new target? Perfect. Let's give her a proper Kingsley welcome."

Kazuha walked over to the nearby janitor's closet, grabbing a large plastic bucket. She dragged it to the water fountain and filled it to the brim with freezing, ice-cold water, tossing a few ice cubes in for good measure. Chloe and Jessica giggled, acting as lookouts near the side entrance where the new girl was walking.

"She’s coming, she’s coming!" Jessica hissed.

The heavy door swung open. The new girl stepped inside, looking down at a map of the school. Before she could even lift her head, Kazuha stepped out from the corner and dumped the entire bucket of freezing water straight over her.

"Welcome to our school, loser!" Kazuha laughed loudly, tossing the empty bucket to the floor.

The hallway erupted into loud jeers and laughter. The new girl stood completely frozen, drenched from head to toe. Cold water dripped heavily from her hair, soaking her large sweater and splashing onto her sneakers. Slowly, she raised her hands and wiped the water away from her eyes, pushing her wet hair out of her face.

When she finally looked up, Kazuha’s laughter instantly died in her throat.

The color drained from Kazuha's face. Her breath hitched, and her hands began to tremble.

The girl standing in front of her wasn't a stranger.

It was Y/N.

Her childhood best friend.

The only person who had ever truly cared about Kazuha before her family’s messy divorce five years ago, forcing Y/N to move to another country.

"Y-Y/N?" Kazuha whispered, her voice cracking.

Y/N didn't yell.

She didn't cry.

She just looked at Kazuha with a calm, deeply disappointed expression. It was a look that cut Kazuha deeper than any insult could. Without saying a single word, Y/N turned around and walked down the hallway toward the girls' locker room to dry off.

"Y/N! Wait!" Kazuha panicked. She completely forgot about her friends, her boyfriend, and the crowd of students watching her. She ran down the hall, bursting through the doors of the girls' locker room.

Y/N was standing by the sinks, wringing out the bottom of her wet sweater.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry!" Kazuha begged, her eyes wide with frantic desperation as she tried to get closer.

"I swear, I didn't know it was you! It was just a stupid prank. If I knew you were coming back, I would have never—"

Before Kazuha could finish her sentence, Y/N raised her hand and placed her palm gently but firmly over Kazuha’s mouth, instantly shutting her up.

"It's okay, Kazuha. Shut up. You don't have to explain anything," Y/N said softly, pulling her hand back. Her voice was completely empty of anger, which somehow made Kazuha feel even worse. "I get it. You're different now. I guess the popularity really ate you up. You're just a bully."

"No, Y/N, that's not true! Please listen to me—" Kazuha pleaded, reaching out to grab Y/N's hand.

But Y/N just pulled away, grabbing her backpack. "I need to go to the office and get a change of clothes. Don't follow me." She walked past Kazuha, leaving her standing alone in the cold locker room.

Over the next two weeks, Kazuha completely lost her mind. A dark, suffocating possessiveness took over her.

She couldn't sleep, she couldn't eat, and she couldn't focus on anything else.

Y/N was back, but Y/N was treating her like a ghost, and Kazuha couldn't stand it.

She tried everything to get close to Y/N again.

During lunch on Tuesday, Y/N was sitting by herself at a lonely corner table in the back of the cafeteria, reading a book. Kazuha walked over, carrying a tray loaded with expensive pastries, snacks, and Y/N’s favorite strawberry milk.

"Hey, Y/N," Kazuha said, forcing the sweetest, brightest smile she could muster as she sat down across from her. "I remembered you love this milk. I bought it from the convenience store across the street just for you. Let's eat together, okay? Just like old times."

Y/N didn't even look up from her page. She calmly closed her book, picked up her backpack, and stood up. She walked away to the library without saying a single word, leaving Kazuha sitting alone at the table while the whole cafeteria stared.

The next day in history class, the teacher announced a group project. Kazuha instantly raised her hand.

"Teacher! I want to be partners with Y/N!"

Y/N stood up immediately, her face completely blank. "Teacher, can I please just work alone? I prefer doing projects by myself."

The teacher blinked, confused, but nodded. "Uh, sure, Y/N. That’s fine."

Kazuha’s grip on her pencil tightened so hard it snapped in half. She glared at the back of Y/N's head, her eyes turning dark and vacant.

'Why are you doing this to me, Y/N?' she thought, her heart twisting painfully. 'Why won't you just look at me?'

By the third week, Kazuha’s friends were getting completely annoyed by her behavior.

During the afternoon break, Kazuha was standing in the crowded main hallway, leaning against a locker, her eyes completely glued to Y/N who was organizing her books down the hall.

Chloe rolled her eyes loudly, crossing her arms. "Seriously, Kazuha, stop acting so pathetic. Why are you spending so much time trying to please that loser? She’s a nobody. It’s not like she’s important or anything."

Something inside Kazuha’s brain snapped.

SMACK!

The sharp, loud sound of Kazuha’s hand slapping Chloe’s cheek echoed violently across the entire hallway.

The crowded corridor instantly fell into a dead, terrifying silence. Students stopped dead in their tracks, staring in utter shock. Chloe stumbled backward against the lockers, clutching her bright red cheek, tears instantly welling up in her eyes.

"Don't you dare call her a loser," Kazuha hissed. Her voice wasn't her usual mean-girl tone; it was incredibly low, cold, and dripping with pure malice. Her eyes looked completely dead, staring at Chloe like she wanted to erase her from existence. "If you ever speak her name with your disgusting mouth again, I will make sure your family loses everything in this town. Try me."

"Whoa, Kazuha! What the hell is wrong with you?!" Mike, her quarterback boyfriend, stepped in angrily.

He grabbed Kazuha’s wrist tightly, pulling her back. "You’ve completely lost it! You can't just slap Chloe over some random nobody girl! Calm down!"

Kazuha violently ripped her wrist out of Mike's grip. She turned her icy, murderous glare onto him, letting out a sharp, dark laugh. "Get your hands off me, Mike. And I told you, don't call her that."

"Babe, I'm your freaking boyfriend! I'm trying to help you!" Mike yelled, feeling humiliated in front of the whole school.

"We’re done," Kazuha said bluntly, her voice as sharp as a knife. "We are breaking up right now."

Mike blinked, totally stunned. "What? Are you crazy? You’re breaking up with me because of her?"

"No, I'm breaking up with you because you’re a pathetic, cheating piece of trash," Kazuha sneered, stepping closer into his space, her eyes wild with rage. "You think I don't know? I know you’ve been sleeping with Sarah from the track team, and Emily from the junior class, and God knows who else. You're disgusting, Mike. You're nothing to me. Y/N is the only one who matters in my life!"

Mike’s face went completely pale. He opened his mouth to argue, but the sheer, dangerous insanity in Kazuha’s eyes kept him frozen.

Kazuha was breathing heavily, her chest heaving up and down as the adrenaline rushed through her veins.

She felt exposed, angry, and completely out of control. Another student nearby mumbled something under their breath, and Kazuha instantly raised her hand again, ready to swing and slap whoever else dared to open their mouth.

But before her hand could land, someone grabbed her wrist from behind, stopping her mid-air.

"Get your hands off—" Kazuha spun around, ready to scream, but she suddenly froze. A familiar, incredibly soft vanilla scent hit her nose—the exact perfume Y/N had worn since they were kids. Kazuha looked up and saw Y/N holding her wrist. Y/N didn't look angry; she just looked deeply tired of all the chaos.

Without saying a single word to the shocked, whispering crowd, Y/N tightened her grip on Kazuha’s wrist and began pulling her down the hallway, dragging her away from Mike, away from the drama, and straight out into the empty courtyard behind the school.

Kazuha didn't fight back at all. She just stared at Y/N’s back, a twisted, incredibly happy smile slowly forming on her lips as she let herself be pulled away. She touched me, Kazuha’s mind screamed in ecstasy, her heart pounding with a dangerous, dark excitement. She finally looked at me.

The courtyard was completely empty, the cool wind blowing through the trees. The moment they were hidden behind the tall brick walls, Y/N finally let go of Kazuha’s wrist.

Kazuha immediately stepped closer, her eyes wide, scanning Y/N’s face.

"Y/N... you saved me back there. I knew it. I knew you still cared about me. You saw what Mike did, right? He’s disgusting. Everyone here is disgusting. They don't understand how important you are to me."

Y/N let out a heavy, exhausted sigh, leaning her back against a concrete pillar. She rubbed her temples, looking at Kazuha with a deep frown. "Kazuha, please. Just stop."

"Stop what?" Kazuha asked, her voice instantly dropping into a soft, innocent whine. She reached out, her fingers trembling as she gently clutched the sleeve of Y/N’s jacket. "I was defending you. Chloe called you a loser. I couldn't just let her say that to you."

"You slapped her, Kazuha! You almost started a riot in the hallway!" Y/N said, her voice rising in frustration. "And the past two weeks? Buying me things, following me everywhere, trying to force yourself into my life? It’s too much. I told you, you’re a bully now. I don't fit into your world anymore, and I just want you to leave me alone."

Hearing the words leave me alone felt like a physical knife stabbing Kazuha’s heart. Her face went completely pale, and her eyes instantly filled with tears. The terrifying, aggressive girl from the hallway completely vanished, replaced by a pathetic, weeping mess.

"No... please don't say that, Y/N," Kazuha sobbed, dropping to her knees right there on the concrete, her hands desperately gripping the hem of Y/N’s jeans. She looked up with big, trembling eyes, tears ruining her perfect makeup. "I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry about the cold water. I swear I didn't know it was you. If I knew, I would have protected you. Please don't hate me. Don't leave me alone again."

Y/N gasped, taking a step back, shocked by Kazuha's sudden breakdown. "Kazuha, get up! What are you doing? People might see you!"

"I only became popular because I was lonely!" Kazuha cried out, her voice cracking with desperate emotion as she clung tighter to Y/N's legs. "When your parents got divorced and you moved away, you left me all alone! I had nobody! My parents ignore me, and everyone at this school is fake. I built this mean persona so nobody could ever hurt me or leave me again. But it’s all a lie, Y/N! I hate them! The only time I was ever truly happy was when I was with you. Please... just give me one chance to make everything right. Let me prove that I can be the Kazuha you used to love."

Y/N stood frozen. She looked down at her childhood best friend, who was literally begging on her knees in the dirt, crying her eyes out.

Y/N’s soft, empathetic heart completely betrayed her. She remembered the sweet Kazuha from five years ago—the girl who used to share her lunch and cry when they had to go home. Seeing her like this made Y/N feel incredibly guilty.

Completely oblivious to the dark, calculating mind hiding behind Kazuha's tears, Y/N knelt down and gently placed her hands on Kazuha’s shoulders, pulling her up.

"Okay... okay, Kazuha, please stop crying," Y/N murmured softly, using her thumb to gently wipe a tear from Kazuha's cheek. "I don't hate you. I didn't know you went through all of that after I left. If you really want to change... if you promise to stop hurting people and stop acting like a bully... I'll give you a chance. We can try to fix things."

Kazuha’s breath hitched. She buried her face into Y/N’s neck, hugging her tightly. Y/N wrapped her arms around her to comfort her, so she couldn't see Kazuha’s face. She didn't see the way Kazuha’s weeping expression instantly shifted into a terrifying, victorious smirk.

She fell for it, Kazuha thought, inhaling Y/N’s vanilla scent deeply, her fingers digging possessively into Y/N’s back. She’s mine again. She’s finally mine.

The next few days were like a dream for Y/N. Kazuha completely changed her behavior at school. She officially resigned from the cheer squad, stopped talking to her old popular friends, and spent every single second with Y/N. She was sweet, attentive, and incredibly gentle. Y/N genuinely believed that her childhood friend was healing and becoming a better person.

On Friday evening, Y/N decided to surprise Kazuha. Kazuha had mentioned she was going to the grocery store to buy ingredients for a dinner they planned to cook together at Kazuha's house.

Since Y/N finished her extra study session early, she decided to head straight over.

When she arrived, Kazuha’s mother, who still remembered Y/N from years ago, unlocked the front door with a warm smile. "Kazuha is just down at the corner store buying some extra things, dear. You can go wait for her up in her room."

"Thanks, Mrs. Nakamura," Y/N smiled brightly, holding a small bakery box of Kazuha’s favorite pastries she had bought as a surprise.

Y/N walked up the stairs, her heart feeling light and happy. She reached Kazuha's bedroom door, which was slightly ajar, and pushed it open with her shoulder. The bakery box slipped from her fingers, hitting the hardwood floor with a soft thud, the pastries tumbling out.

The room was completely pitch black, except for a faint, eerie red glow coming from a string of LED lights wrapped around a massive corkboard on the main wall. Y/N took a hesitant, trembling step inside, her breath catching as her eyes adjusted to the dim, bloody red light.

The entire room was a shrine. And the shrine was entirely dedicated to her.

Hundreds of printed photographs covered every single inch of the walls. There were old photos of Y/N from five years ago, which made sense—but then Y/N saw the rest. There were hundreds of photos of her from the past three weeks.

Photos of her walking to school, taken from inside a car across the street.

Photos of her sitting in the library, taken through the window glass from the bushes outside.

Photos of her eating lunch, zoomed in so closely you could see the crumbs on her lips.

But the absolute worst, most horrifying part was the ceiling directly above Kazuha’s bed.

Enlarged, high-definition pictures were taped across the ceiling. Y/N walked closer, her body shaking violently with pure horror as she recognized the background of the photos. It was her own bedroom.

The photos had been taken from outside her bedroom window while she was completely asleep. There were close-ups of her sleeping face, her tangled blankets, her exposed shoulders.

Underneath the corkboard, a small glass table held a collection of bizarre items inside ziplock bags: a stray hair tie Y/N had lost last week, a half-empty water bottle Y/N had left in history class, and a piece of paper with Y/N’s handwriting, covered in dark red ink that repeated the words:

MY ONLY ONE. MY ONLY ONE. MY ONLY ONE.

"Do you like it?"

Y/N gasped violently, spinning around so fast she almost fell.

Kazuha was standing in the doorway. She was holding a grocery bag, but her expression wasn't the sweet, innocent face she had been showing Y/N all week. Her eyes were completely wide, unblinking, and vacant, reflecting the eerie red light of the room. A wide, twisted, manic smile stretched across her lips.

"K-Kazuha..." Y/N stammered, backing away until her hips hit the desk. Her heart was hammering against her ribs so loudly she could hear it in her ears. "What... what is this? Why do you have pictures of me sleeping?"

Kazuha closed the door behind her, clicking the lock into place with a terrifying click. She dropped the grocery bag onto the floor and slowly walked toward Y/N, her movements graceful but predatory.

"I told you, Y/N. I spent five years waiting for you," Kazuha whispered, her voice a terrifying mix of a sweet lullaby and dark madness. "When you left, I couldn't just let you go. I hired a private investigator in the country you moved to. I got reports about you every single week. I know every school you went to, every friend you made, every time you cried. I couldn't let anyone else have you."

"You... you tracked me?" Y/N’s voice shook, tears of pure terror finally spilling over her eyelashes. "For five years? You're insane!"

"I did it because I love you!" Kazuha giggled darkly, stepping right into Y/N’s personal space. She reached out and firmly gripped Y/N’s waist, trapping her against the desk. Her grip was like iron, completely impossible to break.

"And when your family moved back here, I was so happy. The cold water prank was a mistake, but it worked out perfectly, didn't it? You felt bad for me. You knelt down and comforted me. You gave me a chance." Kazuha leaned in closer, pressing her forehead against Y/N’s, staring directly into her terrified eyes with a gaze full of fanatical, dangerous worship.

Working as a lead makeup artist for SM Entertainment meant you were used to chaos. But nothing prepared you for the absolute rollercoaster of secretly dating Aespa’s leader, Karina.

Right now, you were backstage at a massive music festival. The green room was loud, filled with staff, styling racks, and other idol groups passing by.

You were currently organizing your makeup brushes, your back turned to the door, when a shadow loomed over your table. "Uh, excuse me? Hi Y/n," a voice said.

You turned around to see a male staff member from another prominent boy group (Stray Kids). He was handsome, wearing a staff id lace, and holding his phone out with a hopeful smile.

"Oh, hello! Do you need some help or something?" you asked politely.

"No, actually," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I’ve seen you around at a few music shows now. I think you're really beautiful. I was wondering if I could get your number? Maybe we can grab coffee when this weekend is over."

Before you could answer, you felt a sharp, intense gaze burning into the side of your face. You glanced toward the vanity mirrors.

You see your girlfriend Karina was sitting there, ostensibly letting winter fix her hair, but her eyes were locked onto you through the mirror reflection. Her jaw was tight, and her goofy smile she usually wore was completely gone.

"Ah, thank you," you said to the guy, trying to be nice but distant. "But I don't really give my number out while I'm working."

"Oh, come on, just coffee," the guy persisted, stepping a bit closer into your personal space. "Unless... you have a boyfriend? Is that why?"

"No, I don't have a boyfriend," you said honestly. You technically didn't. You had a gorgeous, incredibly possessive girlfriend who looked like she was about to commit a crime across the room. But obviously, you couldn't say that out loud.

"I'm just really busy."

"If you don't have a boyfriend, then there's no harm, right?" the guy smiled, pushing his phone a little closer to your face. "Just write it down."

From across the room,

A loud thud echoed. Karina had slammed her water bottle down on the table a bit too hard.

Ningselle who were sitting nearby, immediately noticed. They looked from the guy bothering you, to Karina’s deadly expression, and instantly broke into mischievous grins.

"Wah, Karina-Ya," Giselle teased in a low voice, nudging Karina’s shoulder. "Someone’s looking really scary right now. Is that the effect of the drinks earlier or is it just your aura in here?"

"Unnie, your face is going to turn into a puddle if you pout any harder," Ningning giggled, leaning over to whisper.

"Go save your girl before she gets stolen." Winter said when she noticed after she got her food.

Karina didn't say anything. She just crossed her arms, kicked her legs out, and pouted deeply, glaring at the floor like a angry puppy. She looked so childishly jealous that you had to bite your inner cheek to keep from laughing.

"Look, I really have to get back to work," you told the guy firmly, stepping around him. "Excuse me."

The guy finally sighed in defeat and walked away.

The moment he left, you walked over to aespa's vanity. Karina immediately looked up at you, her bottom lip still stuck out.

"Ready for touch-ups, Jimin-ah?" you asked professionally, though your eyes were screaming 'please don't do anything crazy.'

Karina didn't answer. When you leaned in with a powder puff, she suddenly gripped your wrist tightly under the camouflage of adjusting your collar. Her grip was firm, possessive, and her eyes glared into yours.

"No boyfriend, huh?" she muttered under her breath, so low that only you could hear.

"Baby, we're at work," you whispered back, your heart racing at her touch. She let go of your wrist, but she let out a loud, dramatic huff and closed her eyes, refusing to look at you for the rest of the styling session.

~~

By the time the schedule ended and you both made it back to your secret shared apartment, it was past midnight.

You unlocked the door, exhausted, carrying your heavy makeup bag. Karina walked in right behind you. Usually, the moment the door closed, she would turn into a clingy koala, hugging you from behind and kissing your cheek. But tonight? She walked straight past you, kicked off her shoes, and threw herself onto the living room sofa.

She sat there, arms crossed, staring blankly at the TV screen that wasn't even turned on.

You sighed, a fond smile breaking onto your face. You walked over, putting your bag down, and sat on the edge of the sofa near her feet.

"Are you still sulking?" Silence. She didn't even blink.

"Baby." You reached out and gently shook her ankle. "Come on. He was just a random guy. I didn't even give him my number."

"But you told him you don't have a boyfriend," Karina finally spoke, her voice a mix of a whine and a growl. She turned her head to look at you, her eyes shining with pure jealousy.

"You should have just lied and said you did! Or said you were married! He was being so annoying, touching his neck like that, standing so close to you that it makes me angrier."

"I told him no three times, babe," you softened your voice, crawling closer to her on the sofa.

"And you know I can't say I have a girlfriend. Especially not who my girlfriend is. We have to be careful."

"I know," Karina whined, suddenly throwing her arms around your waist and pulling you down onto her chest.

She buried her face into your neck, hugging you so tightly you could barely breathe. "I know we have to be careful. But I hated it. I hated watching another guy look at you like that. I wanted to walk over there, pull you away, and tell everyone in that room that you belong to me."

The possessiveness in her voice made a shiver run down your spine. You wrapped your arms around her neck, stroking her soft hair. "I do belong to you. Only you."

Karina pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. Her expression was heavy, intense, and dark with desire. "I'm going to make sure no one asks for your number tomorrow," she whispered hot against your skin.

Before you could ask what she meant, her lips pressed hard against the sensitive skin of your neck.

She bit down softly, sucking firmly against your skin until you let out a soft gasp, her hands gripping your hips tightly, anchoring you to her.

The next afternoon, you were back at the broadcasting station for a music show pre-recording. You were walking down the hallway with a tray of iced coffees for the girls when you saw the same staff guy from yesterday walking toward you.

You internally groaned, bracing yourself for another annoying conversation. The guy opened his mouth to speak, smiling, but the moment his eyes landed on your neck, his face went completely pale. His jaw literally dropped, and his eyes widened in sheer shock.

"Uh... nevermind. Have a good day!" he stammered quickly, bowing abruptly before turning on his heel and literally sprinting down the hallway in the opposite direction.

You stood there, completely confused.

"What is wrong with him?" you muttered to yourself

You walked into aespa’s dressing room and set the coffees down. You walked over to the mirror to grab a hairbrush, and that's when you saw it.

Right on the left side of your neck was a massive, dark, undeniable purple hickey.

Your face flushed a violent shade of red. Oh my god. No wonder the guy ran away.

You slowly turned around. Sitting on the couch, sipping her iced americano, was Karina.

She was watching you through the mirror, and the moment she saw that you finally noticed, a massive, goofy, incredibly proud smile broke across her face.

She raised her cup to you, looking like a cat that just caught the canary.

You covered your neck with your hand, glaring at her with a mix of embarrassment and affection.

"Pabo," you muttered under your breath.

Megan was the undisputed queen of the campus. As the president of Kappa Kappa Gamma and a lifestyle influencer with millions of followers, her life looked like a perfectly curated Pinterest board. She moved through the university with an effortless grace, always surrounded by a court of sorority sisters and brand managers.

Then there was you. You were a sophomore computer science major and a rising Twitch streamer known for your high-level gaming and sarcastic, late-night commentary. You lived in oversized hoodies, survived on dark roast coffee, and preferred the glow of your dual monitors to the flashing lights of college parties.

No one would ever guess that behind locked doors, you belonged to each other.

What started as a casual hookup months ago had spiraled into a deep, intense relationship.

But it was a secret. Megan had a brand to protect, a image of the flawless, unattainable IT-girl, and you were fiercely protective of her peace.

Because of your contrasting schedules, your relationship lived in the quiet hours between midnight and dawn. It was 1:00 AM on a Thursday when you heard the familiar, rhythmic knock on your apartment door.

You opened it to find Megan standing there, wearing a heavy trench coat over a silk slip dress, her makeup perfectly intact from an influencer gala she had attended earlier. The moment the door clicked shut behind her, the poise dropped. She let out a tired sigh and let her forehead rest against your shoulder.

"I'm exhausted," she murmured, her voice thick with fatigue.

"I've got you," you whispered, wrapping your arms around her waist. You led her to the bathroom, where you gently pulled her hair back into a loose clip. You grabbed a cotton pad and her favorite cleansing oil, carefully wiping away the heavy foundation, the glittery eyeshadow, and the dark mascara until her raw, flushed skin emerged.

This was the Megan the world never saw—the vulnerable, breathtakingly human version of her.

Afterward, she crawled into your bed, tangled her legs with yours, and pulled your oversized hoodie over her head. She smelled of expensive perfume and your familiar laundry detergent.

"Stay up with me while I stream?" you asked softly, tracing patterns on her bare shoulder.

"Always," she whispered, kissing your jawline before closing her eyes.

She would sleep on the small sofa just out of the camera's view, just to be in the same room as you.

~~

The catalyst happened during a weekend trip to a secluded cabin. Megan was filming a vlog titled "A Cozy weekend to touch some grass "

In the video, she was sitting on a plush rug by a fireplace, talking about the importance of mental health.

She looked soft, wearing a knitted cream sweater.

"Sometimes you just need to escape the noise," she smiled at the camera. What she didn't realize was the audio quality of her new microphone.

In the background, very faintly, the sound of a mechanical keyboard clicking could be heard, followed by a low, frustrated groan in a distinctly familiar voice.

“Fuck, my teammate is throwing,” your voice muttered. Then, the camera caught a brief shadow passing by the frosted glass of the kitchen door—someone wearing a distinct vintage leather jacket with a neon gaming patch on the sleeve.

Two days later, you went live on Twitch. You were wearing that exact same leather jacket. Your chat, which usually focused on your gameplay, went completely off the rails.

> User_1999: WAIT A MINUTE. Check the audio on Megan’s new vlog at 04:12. That’s literally Y/N’s voice.

> Y/nismine: Look at the jacket Y/N is wearing right now!! It’s the exact same shadow from the kitchen window in the vlog!

> StanMeganforbetterlife: Holy shit... are they at the same cabin? Are they TOGETHER?!

> Moshyoxhi: The popular girl and the nerd streamer? They’re hooking up. Look at how flustered Y/N is getting.

You caught the messages and felt a cold sweat break out on your neck.

Your fingers slipped on your keyboard, causing your character to die instantly.

"You guys are delulu," you said, forcing your voice to stay deep and monotone, trying to play it cool. "People have the same jackets. And that voice could be anyone. Stop digging into people's private lives, it's weird."

But your flushed cheeks and the slight tremor in your voice gave you away. The clip of your reaction went viral on TikTok within an hour.

The moment your stream ended, the door to your apartment slammed open. Megan walked in, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and hurt. She didn't even take off her coat.

"Why do you always push me away the second things get real?" she demanded, throwing her keys onto your desk.

You stood up from your gaming chair, feeling the tension radiating between you. "Megan, the internet was suspecting us. I had to shut it down."

"You didn't just shut it down, Y/N, you acted like the very idea of being with me was disgusting!" she snapped, stepping closer, her breathing heavy. "I’m tired of this. I’m tired of hiding in the back of my car, tired of leaving your place at 5:00 AM so your neighbors don't see me, tired of pretend-scrolling past your name when my friends ask who I'm texting!"

"I'm doing this to protect you!" you shouted back, your own frustration boiling over. You grabbed her hands, your grip tight and desperate. "Look at the reality, Megan! You are a high-profile influencer. Your entire brand is built on being this perfect, glamorous, single fantasy. If they find out you're sleeping with the nerd social gamer who curses on stream for a living, they will tear you apart! The hate comments, the brands dropping you... I will be your downfall, and I can't live with that!"

Megan stared at you, tears finally spilling over her lashes, ruining her perfect eyeliner.

"You think I'm that shallow?" she whispered, her voice cracking with raw emotion. "You think I care about a bunch of corporate contracts more than the only person who actually sees me? You're not my downfall, Y/N. You're my anchor. If I lose everything else but I get to hold your hand in public, I still win."

Hearing her say it out loud, seeing the fierce devotion in her tear-stained eyes, shattered the wall of anxiety you had built up.

You stepped forward, cupping her face in your hands, and pulled her into a deep, desperate kiss. It wasn't the sweet, gentle kiss of a fairytale; it was heavy, filled with the pent-up frustration, fear, and overwhelming love you both held.

Her hands gripped the front of your shirt, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. "I'm sorry," you breathed against her lips, your foreheads touching. "I'm just so terrified of losing you."

"You won't," she promised, her thumb wiping away a stray tear from your eye.

~~

The next night, you set up your stream. But this time, the setup was different. When the stream started, the chat was already a chaotic mess of speculation.

"Hey everyone," you said, leaning back. Your voice was steady now, devoid of the panic from the night before. "I know there’s been a lot of rumors going around since my last stream. And honestly, I’m done lying about it."

You reached out your hand off-camera.

Megan walked into the frame.

She wasn't wearing her usual outfit. She wore a simple black tank top, her hair up in a messy bun, and no makeup. She took your hand, squeezing it firmly, and sat down beside you.

The chat went completely dead for three seconds before exploding into a blinding wall of text.

Megan looked directly into the camera, a confident, mature smile on her lips. "The rumors are true. Y/N and I have been together for months. We wanted to keep it private because our worlds are so different, but we're tired of hiding. She's my person, and I'm proud to be hers."

You looked over at her, your heart swelling with a warmth you had never felt before. The fear of the world's judgment completely vanished.

"Are you happy baby?" you asked, a soft smirk playing on your lips.

"Very happy," Megan murmured. She turned in her chair, wrapping her arms around your neck, and pulled you down into a slow, deep kiss right in front of the lens.

It was intimate and unhurried, a silent statement to the thousands of people watching that you belonged to each other, and no one else's opinion mattered. When she finally pulled back, her lips were flushed and a beautiful blush covered her cheeks. She winked at the camera, then looked at your monitor.

The library smelled like old paper and rainy days, which was exactly why I liked it. It was the only place in East High where I could actually breathe. No drama, no screaming crowds, just me and my Math notes.

Until the chair next to me slid open.

"Hi, Y/N-ah." My heart did a violent flip.

Jang Wonyoung was leaning over my table, her long, curled hair falling perfectly over her shoulder. She smelled like expensive strawberry lip gloss and vanilla.

She was the girl.

The school princess.

Everyone wanted to be her, or be with her.

And for some reason, she was staring at me like I was the only person in the room.

"O-Oh, hi Wonyoung," I stammered, pulling my oversized sweater down over my hands. "Do you need help with the homework?"

"No," she giggled, but the sound didn't reach her eyes. Her perfectly manicured fingers reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

Her touch lingered a little too long, her thumb brushing against my cheekbone. "I just wanted to see you. You've been ignoring my texts, sweetie. That's not very nice."

"I was just... studying—"

"I don't like it when you look at books more than you look at me," she whispered, her voice dropping into a low, sweet tone that made goosebumps break out on my arms. Her grip on my shoulder tightened, just enough to hurt. "I cleared my whole schedule today just to be with you. You should be happy."

Before I could even process the weird creepiness of her words, a heavy textbook slammed onto the table right next to us.

"Get your hands off them, Wonyoung."

I looked up, my breath catching.

Winter.

If Wonyoung was the sweet princess, Winter was the cool, dangerous girl everyone was secretly afraid of. She was the dance captain, always wearing oversized leather jackets, with a sharp, cat-like stare that could freeze anyone in their tracks. And right now, that stare was fixed entirely on Wonyoung.

"I don't see your name on them," Wonyoung said, her sweet voice instantly turning icy. She didn't let go of my shoulder. In fact, she pulled me a little closer to her side.

Winter let out a dry, dark laugh. She stepped closer, leaning over the table until her face was just inches from mine. "Y/N and I have a deal. She will tutor me on Tuesdays. So back off before I make you."

"Tutor you?" Wonyoung scoffed. "Please. Everyone knows you just use that as an excuse to follow them around. Like a lost puppy."

"At least I don't take pictures of them when they aren't looking," Winter snapped back, her eyes flashing dangerously.

My blood ran cold. "What?"

Winter reached out, her hand sliding under my chin, forcing me to look up at her. Her fingers were warm, but her grip was tight, completely locking me in place. "Don't act so innocent, Wonyoung. I saw your camera roll. You have a whole folder of Y/N. Even photos of them walking home."

"Like you're any better!" Wonyoung stood up, slamming her hands on the table. The polite, angel-like facade she always wore completely vanished, replaced by something dark and unhinged.

"Who do you think scared off Sunwoo last week? He tried to ask Y/N out, and the next day he transferred schools. You did that, didn't you, Winter?"

Winter didn't even look guilty.

She just smirked, her thumb gently tracing my lower lip. "He was annoying. He was in Y/N's space. I just... fixed the problem. I protect what's mine."

"They aren't yours!" Wonyoung shouted, She grabbed my arm, trying to pull me out of the chair toward her.

"Y/N-ah, tell her. Tell her you want to come to my house today. I made your favorite snacks. I know everything you like."

"B-Both of you, stop..." I whispered, my voice trembling. I looked between them, completely terrified.

They weren't just fighting over a crush. They looked insane. Their eyes were wide, dark, and completely hyper-focused on me, like I was a prize they were ready to tear apart.

Seeing the panic in my eyes, Winter's expression softened into something deeply unsettling. She dropped to her knees right next to my chair, grabbing my other hand and holding it against her cheek. "Hey, don't look at her. Look at me, Y/N. I do everything for you. Those bullies who messed with your locker? I took care of them. You don't need anyone else but me."

"No, look at me!" Wonyoung begged, her voice sounding frantic as she squeezed my arm tighter.

"She's dangerous, Y/N. Stay with me. I'll buy you whatever you want. I'll keep you safe in my room where nobody else can ever look at you again."

I tried to pull back, but they both held on. I was completely trapped between the two most popular, beautiful, and absolutely terrifying girls in school.

"So, who is it, Y/N?" Winter whispered, her sharp eyes boring into my soul, a dark, possessive smile growing on her lips.

"Choose right now. Because honestly... we're not letting you leave this library until you do." My chest heaved as I looked from Winter’s sharp, cat-like smirk up to Wonyoung’s beautiful, tight-lipped smile.

The library felt like it was shrinking, the air turning completely suffocating.

"I... I can't," I choked out, trying to pull my hands back. "The bell is about to ring. I have to go to class."

"Class?" Wonyoung let out a soft, breathy laugh that made the hairs on my neck stand up. She leaned down closer, her strawberry scent sickeningly sweet. "Y/N-ah, look around. Do you really think anyone is going to interrupt us?"

I glanced past them toward the front desk. The librarian wasn’t there. In fact, the entire library was dead silent. The heavy wooden doors at the entrance were shut tight.

"I locked it ," Winter said casually, noticing my frantic eyes. She leaned her weight against the table, her leather jacket creaking. "On my way in. No one’s coming in here, Y/N. And you’re not going out. Not until we settle this."

"Are you insane?!" I gasped, my voice cracking.

"Let me go!"

"We’re not insane, sweetie. We’re just devoted," Wonyoung corrected smoothly. She reached up, her fingers sliding into my hair, her grip tightening just enough to anchor my head in place. "You’re so naive. You think you can just walk around this school, being this cute and helpless, and not expect people to want to consume you?"

"I'm not—I'm just a normal person!"

"Not to us," Winter muttered. She grabbed my chin again, her thumb pressing firmly against my jawline. "Wonyoung wants to put you in a glass cage like a pretty little doll. But me? I want to keep you in the dark where only I can touch you. Tell her, Y/N. Tell her how much you liked the little gifts I left in your locker."

"Those... those were from you?" My eyes widened.

For weeks, I had been finding my favorite drinks, expensive highlighters, and handwritten notes detailing exactly what I wore each day.

I thought it was a prank.

"Of course they were," Winter purred, looking incredibly proud. "Also I know everything about you. I know you like to stay up until 2 AM studying. I know you get nervous when people look at you for too long. That’s why I take care of the people who stare."

"Like Minho?" I whispered, horror pooling in my stomach.

"Minho was a mistake that needed to be erased," Wonyoung interrupted, her voice turning completely venomous as she glared at Winter. "But Winter is sloppy, Y/N. She leaves a mess. If you come with me, you won't have to worry about anything. I’ve already talked to my parents. I can get you a scholarship to any university you want, as long as it's the same one I'm going to. We’ll have an apartment together. Just the two of us. I'll take care of your whole life."

"You're planning their whole life without even asking them?" Winter sneered, stepping closer to Wonyoung, their shoulders brushing aggressively.

"They don't want to be your little pet, Wonyoung."

"And they don't want to be your hostage, Winter!"

Wonyoung snapped back, her eyes flashing with a dangerous, psychotic light. She turned her gaze back to me, her expression instantly melting into a creepy, fragile sadness.

"You want to be with me, right, Y/N-ah? Look at how much I love you. I think about you every second of the day. If you choose her... I don't know what I'll do to myself. Or to her. Or to you."

The threat hung heavily in the air. It wasn't a joke.

"Please," I sobbed, tears finally spilling over my cheeks. "Just let me go home. Why are you doing this to me?"

Winter’s expression darkened at the sight of my tears. For a second, I thought she was going to feel guilty, but instead, she just looked deeply unsatisfied. She leaned in until her lips brushed against my ear.

"Don't cry for anyone else, Y/N. It breaks my heart," Winter whispered, her voice low and completely devoid of sanity. "We're doing this because we have to. You're too soft for this world. If it's not us, someone else will take you. So just choose. Pick me, and I'll make sure Wonyoung never bothers you again."

"Don't listen to her!" Wonyoung pulled my arm hard, forcing me to face her. Her face was inches from mine, her beautiful features twisted into something terrifyingly desperate.

"Choose me, Y/N. If you don't... I'll tell the principal that Winter was the one who destroyed the school gym last month. She'll get expelled. She'll be gone anyway. So just save us the trouble and say my name."

"You wouldn't dare," Winter growled, her hand dropping to her side, her fists clenching so hard her knuckles turned white.

"Try me," Wonyoung smiled, a chillingly empty expression on her face. "I get what I want, Winter. Always. And I want Y/N."

They both stared at each other, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife, before their eyes snapped back down to me simultaneously.

They were waiting.

Two gorgeous, popular monsters, completely obsessed, locking me into a corner I could never escape from.

"Well, Y/N?" Winter asked, her voice dropping into a deadly, quiet purr. "Who's it going to be?"

"I... I can't choose," I whispered, my voice breaking completely as a fresh wave of tears blurred my vision. "Please. Just let me go."

Winter’s cat-like eyes narrowed, the dark, possessive look in them deepening. She looked up at Wonyoung, completely ignoring my plea. "She's not going to choose, princess. She's too scared."

Wonyoung sighed, a deeply disappointed but chillingly calm sound. The frantic, desperate expression she wore seconds ago totally vanished, replaced by a strange, placid smile. "I know. It breaks my heart to see them like this. Look at how much they're trembling, Winter. It's not good for their health."

"Yeah," Winter murmured, her grip shifting from my chin to the back of my neck, her fingers surprisingly warm but terrifyingly strong. "We're stressing them out too much. Maybe we should just skip to the final plan."

"Wait—what do you mean final plan?" I gasped, panic surging through my veins. I tried to violently thrash away, to kick the desk, to make any kind of noise, but Wonyoung instantly threw her weight against me, pinning my arms down.

"Shh, it's okay, Y/N-ah," Wonyoung cooed in my ear, her voice a sickeningly sweet lullaby. "We're just going to take you to a place where nobody can ever stress you out again."

Before I could even scream, Winter reached into her oversized leather jacket and pulled out a small, white cloth.

A sharp, chemical smell immediately hit my nose.

Realization hit me like a truck, but it was too late. Winter pressed the cloth firmly over my nose and mouth.

"Just breathe, baby," Winter whispered right against my ear, her deep voice the last thing I heard. "We've got you."

I fought, kicking my legs and trying to shake my head, but Wonyoung held my body down with terrifying strength, whispering sweet, unhinged promises into my hair. “We love you so much... just sleep, Y/N... just sleep.”

My vision began to blur. The edges of the library faded into complete darkness, and my heavy limbs finally went totally numb.

When my eyes finally fluttered open, the first thing I noticed was that my headache was splitting. The second thing I noticed was how incredibly soft the bed beneath me was.

I groaned, trying to sit up, but my body felt heavy and sluggish. The room I was in was massive, decorated in expensive neutral tones, with massive floor-to-ceiling windows showing nothing but a dense, dark forest outside. It definitely wasn't my bedroom.

"Oh, you're awake!"

The door clicked open, and Wonyoung walked in. She wasn't wearing her school uniform anymore; instead, she wore a cozy, oversized cashmere sweater. She carried a tray with a steaming bowl of soup and a glass of water.

"W-Wonyoung?" I croaked, my throat completely dry. Memory came rushing back in a horrific flash—the library, the cloth, the smell. I scrambled backward on the bed until my back hit the headboard. "Where am I? Where is my mom? My phone—"

"Drink some water first, sweetie," Wonyoung said, sitting on the edge of the bed. She ignored my panic completely, holding the glass to my lips. When I refused, her eyes went dark for a split second before she smiled again. "Don't be stubborn. You've been asleep for a whole day."

The door opened again, and Winter walked in, holding a soft blanket. She looked completely relaxed, a faint, satisfied smirk on her face as she walked over and sat on the other side of the bed, effectively trapping me between them again.

"Where are we?!" I demanded, my voice trembling as I looked between them. "And what about your rivalry? Wonyoung, you said she was dangerous! Winter, you said she was a stalker! Why are you guys together?!"

Winter let out a low chuckle, reaching out to lazily wrap a strand of my hair around her finger. "We realized something after you started crying in the library, Y/N. Fighting over you was a waste of time. It was getting messy."

"Exactly," Wonyoung chimed in, leaning closer to rest her chin on my shoulder, her arms wrapping possessively around my waist. "We realized that neither of us was ever going to let the other have you. And since we both love you to the point of insanity... we made a pact."

"A... a pact?" I whispered, my blood turning to ice.

"A compromise," Winter corrected, her eyes boring into mine with absolute, unwavering devotion. "We pooled our money together and bought this house. It's under a private estate, miles away from the city. No one knows we're here. No one is ever going to find you."

"We're going to share you, Y/N-ah," Wonyoung purred against my neck, kissing the skin there softly, making me flinch. "One day you belong to me, the next day you belong to Winter. We share your love, we share your attention, and we both get to keep you safe from the rest of the world. Isn't that perfect?"

"You guys are crazy!" I sobbed, trying to push Wonyoung off me, but Winter immediately grabbed both of my wrists, locking them down onto the mattress with one hand.

"Hey, watch the attitude," Winter warned, though her voice was terrifyingly gentle as she leaned down, her face inches from mine. "We did this for us. For you. Your old life is gone, Y/N. Your school thinks you transferred overseas. Your family... well, Wonyoung's parents have enough money to make missing persons reports disappear."

Wonyoung smiled, tightening her hug around my waist. "You don't need to worry about anything anymore, sweetie. No more studying, no more bullies, no more lonely lunches. You have both of us now. Forever."

The neon lights of the practice room blurred together as Aeri stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. It was 2:00 AM in Seoul. Her throat burned from recording the same bridge ten times, her thighs ached from the new choreography, and the pressure for aespa’s upcoming comeback was sitting on her chest like a lead weight.

Everyone expected perfection. She had to look perfect and she needed to look sexy.

Feeling the familiar sting of tears in her eyes, she grabbed her phone, slipped out into the empty, dimly lit hallway, and dialed the only number that felt like home.

Because of the time zone difference, it was afternoon where you were. The phone rang twice before your face appeared on the screen, sitting at your desk.

"Hey, my love," you smiled, but your expression instantly softened into worry when you saw her face. "Aeri? What’s wrong?"

That was all it took. The dam broke.

"I can't do this, Y/N," Aeri sobbed, pressing her back against the hallway wall and sliding down to the floor. She pulled her knees to her chest. "The comeback is in two weeks and everything is a mess. My rap parts keep getting changed, the choreo is so fast my ankles feel like they're going to snap, and I haven't slept more than three hours a night this week. I feel like I'm holding everyone back."

She went on a breathless, frantic rant for fifteen minutes. She complained about the tight outfits, the strict diet, the constant evaluations, and how terrified she was of letting the fans down. She poured her heart out, her voice cracking, her tears dripping onto her oversized hoodie.

On the other side of the screen, you just listened. You didn't interrupt. You didn't tell her to calm down. You just watched her with eyes full of pure, unconditional love, murmuring soft words of comfort whenever she paused to breathe.

"I'm just so tired," Aeri finally whispered, her energy completely spent. Her eyelids were drooping, heavy with exhaustion.

"I know, baby," you said softly, your voice like a warm blanket. "You've worked so hard. Can you do me a favor? Go back to the dorm, crawl into bed, and just sleep. You don't have to think about tomorrow right now."

"Mmm... okay," she mumbled, barely able to keep her eyes open. "I love you."

"I love you more, Aeri. Sleep well."

When Aeri finally woke up, the bedroom was dark. The harsh, stressful reality of the comeback flooded her mind for a split second, making her heart race. But then, she noticed a warmth beside her.

She turned her head slowly, and her breath hitched.

You were lying right there, fast asleep on the pillow next to hers. You were still wearing your travel clothes, looking slightly exhausted yourself, with one arm protectively thrown over her waist.

Aeri blinked, thinking it was a dream. She reached out with a trembling hand and touched your cheek. You were warm. You were real.

A choked sob escaped her lips.

The sound woke you up. Your eyes fluttered open, blinking away the sleep, and as soon as you saw her crying, you pulled her closer, wrapping both arms around her.

"Shh, I'm here. I've got you," you whispered, burying your face in her messy hair.

Instead of feeling comforted right away, a wave of familiar panic hit Aeri. In all her past relationships, whenever she cried or got too stressed, her exes would pull away. They told her she was too much. They told her she was exaggerating and making a big deal out of nothing. They made her feel like a burden.

"I-I'm sorry," Aeri gasped out, trying to pull away from your embrace. "I'm sorry I'm crying again. I'm being too dramatic, right? You flew all the way here because I was complaining like a baby—"

"Aeri, look at me," you interrupted gently but firmly. You cupped her face with both hands, forcing her to look into your eyes. "Stop. Look at me."

She sniffled, her eyes red and watery.

"You are not too much," you said, your voice cracking with emotion. "You are never too dramatic. You are carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, and you're allowed to break down. I didn't fly here because you're a burden. I flew here because the person I love was hurting, and I wanted to hold her. You are safe with me, okay? Always."

Hearing those words, the wall she built around her heart completely crumbled. She buried her face in your neck and cried, but this time, they weren't tears of stress. They were tears of relief. For the first time in her life, she didn't have to be Giselle the idol. She could just be Aeri, a girl who needed to be held.

You let her cry, rocking her gently and rubbing soothing circles into her back until her breathing finally slowed down.

When she finally quieted down, she pulled back just enough to look at you. Her lips were trembling, but a tiny, genuine smile appeared on her face.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Don't thank me," you smiled, wiping a stray tear from her cheek with your thumb. "Can I kiss you now love?"

Aeri didn't even answer; she just leaned in and pressed her lips to yours.

The kiss started sweet and slow, filled with gratitude and deep relief. But as Aeri’s hands slid up to tangle in your hair, the kiss deepened. She pulled you closer, needy for your touch, wanting to erase every bad memory of her past and replace it with you.

You rolled over so you were hovering slightly over her, never breaking the kiss. Your lips parted, moving together in a slow, passionate rhythm that made Aeri’s heart skip a beat. It wasn't rushed or frantic; it was deep, warm, and full of reassurance. You kissed her like she was the most precious thing in the world—because to you, she was.

When you finally pulled away for air, your lips were flushed and shiny. You leaned down to press soft, lingering kisses to her jawline, her cheek, and finally, a gentle kiss on her forehead.

It was your first major evaluation since joining the company as a trainee, and despite your usual calm, your hands trembled slightly around the mic. Behind the glass sat a line of familiar and unfamiliar faces: vocal coaches, choreographers, producers… and idols.

But the only face you could really see—was hers.

Shin Yuna.

The youngest member of ITZY, a visual and center with an intimidating aura, even off-stage. She sat confidently, legs crossed, arms folded, wearing an unreadable expression. Her long hair framed her face perfectly, her gaze unwavering.

You weren’t sure if it was your imagination, but the moment your name was called, her eyes locked onto yours—and didn’t leave once during the entire performance.

Afterward, you stumbled out of the room into the hallway, lungs aching for fresh air, mind spinning with everything you could’ve done better.

“Hey.”

You jumped at the voice, spinning around. Yuna stood behind you in the dim hallway light, a drink in hand. She looked relaxed—too relaxed—like she hadn’t just been watching dozens of anxious trainees pour their hearts out on stage.

Her arms were still crossed, but there was a playful tilt to her lips now.

“You looked nervous.”

Your face flushed. “Oh—uh. I mean, yeah. A little.”

“But your voice?” She uncapped the drink and took a sip before continuing. “It’s real. I’ve sat through too many trainees who just mimic. You don’t. Don’t mess it up by second-guessing yourself.”

The compliment hit you harder than you expected. From anyone else, it would’ve felt ordinary. But from Yuna, someone you had quietly admired from afar?

You bowed deeply. “T-Thank you, sunbaenim. I’ll remember that.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then, she stepped forward—closer than necessary. Close enough that you could see the faint shimmer of glitter in her eyeliner.

“Sunbaenim sounds stiff.”

She smiled.

“Just call me Yuna.”

Your eyes widened slightly. You straightened up, blinking.

“…But I’m your unnie.”

Yuna tilted her head, still smirking. “Am I supposed to care?”

You blinked again, flustered. “That’s not how the hierarchy works. Shouldn’t you be calling me ‘Y/N unnie’?”

She leaned in even closer, voice low.

“Maybe,” she whispered. “But I don’t really feel like it.”

Before you could respond, she winked and turned around, walking back toward the practice rooms like nothing happened.

You stood frozen in place, your heart stuttering in your chest.

“What… was that?”

She never looked back—but you could feel her smirk anyway.

That was the beginning.

And something told you—it wasn’t going to be the simple “sunbae-hoobae” friendship you expected.

Months passed since that strange first encounter, and you still weren’t quite sure how you and Yuna became so close.

She had this way of inserting herself into your day—always effortlessly, never asking permission. After vocal training, she’d linger by the door, waiting. After dance practice, she’d drop a sports drink on your lap like she knew exactly when you’d run out of energy.

“You’re not stretching properly again,” she said one afternoon, squatting down in front of you as you lazily reached for your toes.

“I’m tired,” you mumbled, wincing as she grabbed your calf and repositioned your leg more firmly. Her hands were warm, confident, and a little too gentle for someone just giving corrections.

“That’s no excuse. You could tear a muscle, unnie,” she added with a smirk, purposefully dragging out the word.

You glared at her, narrowing your eyes. “Now you call me unnie?”

“Only when I want to tease you.”

Her laugh was light, airy. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the way your lips tugged upward.

That night, like many others, your phone buzzed around midnight.

Yuna: "Don’t overwork. You’re not allowed to injure those pretty hands."

Yuna: "Sleep well, Y/N."

You didn’t respond. You just stared at the screen, heart fluttering like a fool.

During breaks, she started pulling you into the ITZY practice room more often. That’s how you met Ryujin, who greeted you with a nod and an unreadable smile.

“You’re the one Yuna always talks about, huh?”

You laughed nervously. “She talks about me?”

Ryujin arched an eyebrow. “All the time.”

The girls welcomed you in, especially Chaeryeong and Yeji who were kind and easy to talk to—but Ryujin was the one who watched most closely. Like she was trying to read something in your body language.

One afternoon, while Yuna was off practicing vocals, Ryujin flopped down beside you on the floor, sweat still clinging to her neck.

“She’s dangerous, you know,” she said casually, tugging off her hoodie.

You blinked. “Who?”

“Yuna.”

You laughed it off. “She’s not dangerous. Just a little intense.”

“She gets… attached.” Ryujin looked at you sideways. “Do you like her?”

The question caught you off guard. Your face instantly heated. “Wh-What? No! We’re just friends.”

Ryujin shrugged, not pushing. “If you say so.”

But she didn’t believe you.

And the worst part? You weren’t sure if you believed yourself either.

One evening, the sun had already dipped past the skyline when your phone buzzed.

Yuna: “Rooftop. Bring snacks.”

You made your way up, familiar with this little routine of hers by now.

She was already sitting cross-legged, hair tied loosely, hoodie sleeves too long. The city lights blinked around her like stars.

You dropped beside her and tossed her a convenience store sandwich. “Why do you always drag me up here?”

She glanced at you sideways, unwrapping her snack slowly. “Because you don’t pretend with me.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Other trainees look at me like I’m some idol on a pedestal. You just… talk to me like I’m a person.”

You smiled softly, heart clenching. “That’s because you are a person, Yuna.”

A pause. The silence between you was comfortable.

“…Do you regret becoming a trainee?” she asked suddenly.

You hesitated. “Sometimes. It’s lonely. And scary. The pressure, the competition. It never ends.”

Her lips pressed into a faint line. Then her hand—tentative—brushed against yours. Not a full hold, just a touch.

“I get that,” she said. “But I think you’re different from the others.”

You tilted your head. “Different how?”

“You don’t bore me.”

You blinked, half-laughing. “That’s a compliment?”

“It is coming from me.”

You looked at her, and in that moment, you knew.

You liked her. More than you were supposed to.

But you also knew you’d never say it.

Because for now, friendship was all you were allowed.

And that had to be enough.

Things had changed—for the better, or so you thought.

After that rooftop night, your bond with Yuna only grew stronger. Midnight calls turned into early morning coffee runs. She’d sneak into your practice room and sit quietly in the corner, pretending to scroll on her phone when you caught her watching your choreography.

And you didn’t stop her. You let her stay.

There was an unspoken rhythm between you both now. You never labeled it.

You were “just friends”—but the kind that whispered jokes in crowded elevators, exchanged glances across dance studios, and always found a way to be alone together.

Then one afternoon came the news you’d been waiting for:

"You were accepted into the next JYP girl group."

It was everything you’d worked for. And the first person you thought of telling? Yuna.

Y/N: “I have something to celebrate. Can you meet me tomorrow night? I already made a reservation 😊”

She replied in less than a minute.

Yuna: “Of course. I’m there. Just tell me the time. 💙”

You dressed carefully the next evening, nerves fluttering in your chest. You arrived at the cozy restaurant early, heart beating fast. A small cake sat in a box beside you.

You ordered water. Then a coffee. Then two more waters.

Minutes passed.

Then an hour.

And another.

By the time the waiter politely informed you the kitchen was closing, the cake had gone warm in its box, untouched.

No calls. No replies.

You walked home alone, the streetlights smudged by tears you didn’t even realize had started falling.

Just as you reached your dorm room door, your phone buzzed.

Yuna: “I’m so sorry. There was an emergency. I couldn’t make it.”

No punctuation. No explanation.

Just cold distance.

You stared at the message, unreadable.

The next morning, you arrived early at the JYP building for your new team briefing. You were trying to forget last night—to focus on what mattered.

That’s when you heard it.

In the hallway, two stylists were chatting by the vending machine.

“Did you hear? Yuna from ITZY’s dating that model trainee from Team B.”

“Seriously? They’ve been sneaking around for weeks.”

You froze mid-step.

Then you clicked your tongue—a quiet, bitter sound—and kept walking without a word.

Later that day, after hours of choreography drills, you sat alone in the practice room, wiping sweat from your jaw when the door creaked open.

Yuna.

She wore a sheepish smile and carried two cold drinks in her hands. “Hey, superstar,” she said softly, walking toward you like nothing had happened.

You didn’t answer.

Didn’t smile.

Just stared.

“…What’s wrong?” she asked, voice unsure for the first time in a long time.

You stood, tone flat. “You really want to do this?”

She blinked. “Do what?”

“Act like last night didn’t happen.”

“I told you there was an emergency,” she said, shifting her weight. “I didn’t mean to hurt you—”

“Then why did you?”

Your voice cracked. “You said you’d come. You promised.”

“I tried!” she snapped. “But something came up!”

You scoffed. “Yeah. I heard what ‘came up.’ Model trainee. Cute, Yuna.”

Her eyes narrowed, voice raising. “That has nothing to do with us!”

“There is no us,” you snapped back. “You made that clear the second you blew me off without even explaining.”

“I didn’t know I had to report everything I do to you,” she bit out. “You’re not my manager, Y/N. You’re not my girlfriend.”

You stilled.

The words hit harder than you expected.

Not because they were wrong—

But because part of you had wished, secretly, that you were something like that to her.

Yuna’s expression faltered, as if realizing too late what she said.

You stared at her, eyes burning.

“No,” you said quietly. “I’m not. Just the idiot who waited two hours for someone who clearly didn’t care enough to say the truth.”

Yuna’s jaw clenched. “You’re twisting this. I never meant—”

“You could’ve just told me. That you weren’t coming. That you had a date. That I wasn’t that important.”

“You are important,” she hissed, eyes gleaming with frustration.

You stepped back. “Then why did you lie?”

Yuna had no answer.

Just silence.

“You know what the worst part is?” you whispered. “I would've still been happy for you. If you’d just been honest.”

She looked like she wanted to say something. But instead, she stood there, lips pressed together, hands shaking slightly with the cold condensation of the drinks.

“I thought we were closer than that,” you said softly.

Then you walked past her, brushing shoulders, not bothering to look back.

And this time, she didn’t follow.

Weeks passed.

You and Yuna avoided each other.

Not openly. Not dramatically. But in subtle, suffocating ways.

She no longer lingered by your practice room door. No more midnight messages, no more surprise coffee deliveries. Just silence. Thick and heavy.

And when your team had evaluations—where senior idols came to watch and give notes—Yuna was there.

Always there.

But not as the girl who once smiled at you on rooftops.

Now, she sat with that same unreadable face from your first encounter. Only this time, her critiques felt sharper than they needed to be.

“Y/N, your timing was late on the second chorus,” she said in one evaluation, not even looking at you. “You were lacking. That’s a problem.”

You blinked in surprise. You were on beat—your trainer had said as much.

The other ITZY members exchanged glances. Ryujin’s brow furrowed. Chaeryeong looked confused.

You bowed your head and simply replied, “Yes, sunbaenim.”

Another time:

“You still don’t know how to control your center. You’re all arms, no control.”

It wasn’t constructive. It wasn’t like before.

And yet, you swallowed your pride.

You bowed again.

Because she was still your sunbae, and you were still a trainee.

After that evaluation, you sat quietly in the hallway, rolling your sore shoulder. Sullin, your fellow teammate and the closest thing you had to a friend now, sat beside you.

She nudged you with her shoulder. “You okay?”

You smiled faintly. “Just tired.”

“You were fine in practice,” she muttered, frowning. “She’s just being… weird.”

You chuckled softly. “She’s Yuna. She’s allowed to be strict.”

“Strict is one thing. Passive-aggressive is another.”

You gave her a sideways look. “You’re bold.”

Sullin smirked. “You’re just used to getting her attention in a different way.”

That made your heart jolt.

“I’m sorry,” she added, quickly. “That was—was that too much?”

“No,” you said quietly. “You’re not wrong.”

Later that day, in the trainee lounge, a few girls huddled around the snack table.

“I don’t get it,” a younger trainee whispered. “Yuna sunbae used to praise Y/N all the time.”

“Maybe they had a falling out?”

You grabbed a water bottle and pretended not to hear.

Ryujin passed by and gave you a subtle glance. “You doing okay?” she asked under her breath.

You nodded. “Just tired.”

“Don’t take her too seriously,” Ryujin added. “She’s… complicated. Especially when she’s emotional.”

That surprised you. “Is she?”

Ryujin just gave you a half-smile. “You’ll figure it out.”

You tried to move on.

You trained harder. You spent more time with Sullin—who felt like a breath of fresh air. She was funny, sincere, and genuinely happy when you did well.

“I’m lucky we’re debuting together,” she said one night as you walked back to the dorms.

“I’m the lucky one,” you replied. “You’re the only one who talks to me like a human lately.”

She laughed. “Well, human-to-human, I hope we get matching mics.”

But even with Sullin around, you couldn’t fully escape Yuna’s presence.

She was everywhere—on posters, in training videos, in the eyes of every fan outside the building.

And in evaluations, she still gave remarks.

Not always cruel. But cold. Impersonal.

The girl who once helped you stretch your legs now watched you like a stranger.

The one who told you not to injure your “pretty hands” now handed out comments like knives.

Still, you bowed.

You kept it professional.

Because even if she broke your heart, you refused to let it break your dream.

Two months.

You had exactly two months before your debut, and tonight… tonight was for celebrating.

The JYP rooftop party was glowing—not glitzy, just cozy, filled with warm lights, music, and the soft buzz of chatter between trainees and artists.

Twice was there, handing out drinks and hugs.

Stray Kids cheered like older brothers.

Even 2PM showed up to crack jokes and congratulate your group.

Your fellow members—you, Sullin, and three others—had made it through the fire. Years of training, late nights, tears. You belonged.

You laughed with Chaeyoung from TWICE as she handed you a mocktail. “You’re going to kill the stage,” she said. “Just don’t be too good. I still want my job.”

You giggled and gave her a salute. “Yes, sunbaenim.”

Nearby, Sullin twirled under the fairy lights, dragging you into a spin, your shared joy so natural it didn’t need words.

But someone watched.

Yuna.

Across the balcony, near the railing, she sat quietly with the other ITZY members—eyes fixed on you.

Her fingers tightened around her glass, lip twitching as you laughed at something Sullin said. You hadn’t even noticed her.

“Yuna,” Ryujin said, nudging her. “You okay?”

She blinked. “Yeah.”

Her phone buzzed in her lap. A message. Then a call.

From him. The boyfriend.

She stood abruptly, muttering something about air, and walked off to the stairwell, answering in a clipped voice.

“What?”

“No, I’m not coming over. I’m at the company.”

“…No, I’m not mad.”

“I just—just give me space.”

You didn’t see her leave. You were too busy, wrapped in congratulations and new beginnings.

But she saw everything.

Every hug. Every smile.

Every second your attention wasn’t hers.

The celebration had ended late, but the warmth from it still clung to your skin—the laughter, the flashing lights, the music, the congratulations. You were exhausted.

Your makeup was barely wiped off, your hair frizzed slightly from the foggy night air as you fumbled for your dorm keys.

But something made you pause.

Someone was sitting by your door.

Soaked. Shivering.

Yuna.

Your eyes widened. “Yuna?! What are you—wait, let me call Ryujin—”

You reached for your phone, heart racing. She didn’t answer. Didn’t move.

Instead, she suddenly stood and hugged you, her drenched coat pressing cold against your hoodie. Her hands trembled as they clutched your back, fingers tightening like she was afraid you'd vanish.

Then, a broken whisper near your ear:

“He cheated on me.”

Your heart cracked. You dropped your bag and pulled her inside without another word.

You wrapped her in your thickest blanket, hands patting her shoulders in a rush. “God, Yuna... you’re freezing. Why didn’t you call anyone?”

Still no answer. Just her quiet sobbing as she sat on the edge of your couch, head bowed, water dripping onto the floor.

“I kept thinking…” she mumbled, voice hoarse, “why didn’t I come to you first?”

You crouched in front of her, brushing her soaked bangs aside. “Yuna…”

Her eyes finally met yours—raw, red, mascara streaked down her cheek.

“Why did you leave me?”

You blinked, stunned. “What?”

“You stopped trying,” she accused. “You stopped waiting.”

“You became distant,” you replied, quietly. “You had him. You ignored my texts. You forgot our dinner reservation when I got into the debut lineup. I sat in that restaurant for two hours, Yuna.”

“I told you it was an emergency.”

You swallowed back the memory. “Then the next day, I heard about the boyfriend. And you smiled like I was supposed to be happy for you.”

Silence stretched between you.

Then her voice sharpened. “I hated seeing you with her.”

“…Sullin?”

“That girl,” she hissed. “You laugh with her like you used to laugh with me. You cling to her, train with her, eat with her—”

“She’s just a friend!” you raised your voice now, exasperated.

“I don’t care!” she snapped, standing abruptly.

“You’re mine.”

You froze.

Breath caught.

The rain pounded against the windows, thunder rolling softly in the distance.

A moment passed in silence. Her chest heaved, her fists clenched at her sides.

You stepped back, suddenly tired. “I’m sleeping on the couch. You can use my room.”

Yuna blinked. “What?”

“I’m tired, and we’re both… upset,” you muttered, grabbing a pillow and tossing it onto the couch.

“Just get some rest, okay?”

But she didn’t move. Instead, she walked up behind you—slowly, quietly—and wrapped her arms around your waist from behind.

“Please,” she whispered. “Let me sleep beside you tonight.”

“Yuna—”

“I don’t want to be alone,” she murmured into your shoulder. “I need you. Just this once.”

You hesitated, pulse stuttering in your throat. She was still soaked, and her hands were cold, but her voice—it trembled like glass.

“…Fine,” you said softly. “But just sleep. Nothing else.”

Later that night

You lay on your side in the dark, the bed cold and unfamiliar even though it was yours. Yuna curled beside you under the blanket, her back barely touching yours.

You thought she had fallen asleep.

But she hadn’t.

Her eyes remained open, watching the shadows across your skin.

And then, so softly, she whispered into the quiet:

“I’ll love you, only you. No matter what happens.”

Her fingers curled under the sheets, brushing against yours.

“Even if you leave me again… I won’t let you.”

You didn’t hear it.

But the night did.

And it would remember.

Since that night, Yuna clung to you like nothing ever broke between you.

She texted you good morning and goodnight again. She waited for your practices to end.

She started showing up with your favorite meals—tteokbokki with extra fish cakes, iced vanilla lattes even when it was freezing cold.

“You’ll get sick,” you muttered the first time she handed you one with a smug smile.

“But you like it cold,” she said simply, handing you a straw like it was obvious.

She got her driver’s license, too, and suddenly insisted on driving you to and from the dorms.

“It’s dangerous for you to walk alone,” she’d say, chin tilted in that familiar bratty confidence.

You didn’t argue. But the others noticed.

“Are you two… back together?” Sullin asked one evening, the two of you walking toward the trainee dorms after vocal class.

You blinked. “We were never… together.”

“But you like her, don’t you?”

Your silence said enough.

Sullin smiled gently. “I just don’t want you to get hurt again.”

But you already were. Every time Yuna held your hand like nothing happened, every time she leaned her head on your shoulder when you were too tired to pull away—you were aching.

It was nearly midnight.

The company building was nearly empty, the overhead lights humming faintly above your head.

You stayed late—again—trying to perfect the new routine.

The music filled the practice room, but the silence behind it was what you were craving.

You didn’t hear the door creak open.

But you felt it when someone yanked your earphone out.

You stumbled back, startled.

Yuna.

Her expression was unreadable—tight-lipped, brows drawn together. Her hair slightly tousled like she’d come rushing.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were here this late?” she asked.

You frowned. “Why does it matter?”

She crossed her arms, stepping closer. “With her again?”

“What?”

“Sullin. You’ve been ignoring me, but you have time for her?”

You sighed, wiping sweat from your brow. “I haven’t been ignoring you. I’m just busy.”

“Don’t lie to me,” she snapped, her voice rising.

“You think I don’t see the way she clings to you? Laughs with you? Like she’s replacing me?”

You stiffened. “She’s my friend. And we both know whose place was left empty first.”

Yuna’s mouth twitched. “So that’s it? You’re punishing me?”

“I’m respecting myself,” you said flatly.

A beat.

Then her voice turned ice cold.

“You always say you respect people,” she said. “But you—” she pointed to her chest, “you never respected me.”

You stared at her in disbelief. “I always did! I still do—you’re my sunbae—”

“Sunbae?” she scoffed, stepping forward with a mocking smirk. “Don’t act formal now. Why call me sunbae when you could call me jagiya instead?”

That made you snap.

You pushed her back a step. “Don’t cross that line, Yuna.”

Her jaw clenched. “There is no line between us.”

“You made it clear there was when you left me at that restaurant.”

“I told you it was an emergency!”

“Yeah, and then I heard about your boyfriend from everyone else the next day.”

Yuna’s voice cracked as she shouted, “I was confused!”

You laughed bitterly. “You weren’t confused when you let me stand in that restaurant alone, crying in the damn restroom.”

A long silence stretched.

Then, her voice dropped low. Controlled. Dangerous.

“I said I was sorry. And I’m trying. But you keep pushing me away.”

“Because I’m scared of what you’ll do,” you whispered.

Yuna’s eyes flared.

Then she lunged forward—grabbing your wrist, spinning you around and pressing you firmly to the mirror.

Her breath was hot on your cheek.

“You don’t get to be scared of me, unnie,” she said, mockingly emphasizing the word. “You should be scared of what I’ll do if I lose you.”

You struggled in her grip. “Yuna, stop—”

“I don’t want anyone touching you. Looking at you. Not even her.”

“She’s just my friend.”

She hissed, “I can make her disappear.”

You froze. “What…?”

“I’m serious.” Her voice was razor-sharp now.

“You think anyone would believe you over me? Over ITZY’s Yuna? Over JYP’s sweetheart?”

Your chest tightened. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m telling you the truth,” she said calmly. “If you don’t stay by my side, I will ruin everything for you. I will ruin her. She’ll be dropped before debut. Just say the word and poof—gone.”

“You wouldn’t…”

Her hand came to your face—gentle now. Stroking your cheek.

“Don’t make me,” she whispered. “Just… stay. Be mine.”

You were trembling now.

“I don’t want you,” you whispered, but your voice broke.

“Liar,” she said, and her eyes darkened.

Then, she kissed you.

Hard. Desperate. Possessive. Her hands held your jaw like you’d shatter. Your back was cold against the mirror. Her lips tasted of frustration, of fear, of obsession.

You tried to push her off—but part of you froze, overwhelmed by the heat of her body and the memories she awakened.

She pulled away just enough to whisper:

“Say it. Say you’re mine.”

You stared at her. Torn. Angry. Shaking.

“…I’m yours.”

Her expression softened into something twistedly satisfied.

She pressed her forehead against yours, exhaling, “Good girl.”

Yuna’s forehead stayed pressed against yours, her breath uneven, her lips still tingling from the kiss.

You could feel the thrum of her pulse through her fingertips as they held your jaw in place. Her eyes searched yours—wild, gleaming with something between desperation and obsession.

"I’m yours,” you said again.

The words hung thick in the air. It was as if you’d surrendered a part of yourself you couldn’t take back.

A smile tugged at the corner of Yuna’s lips—soft, almost dreamy—but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her thumb brushed across your lower lip, slow and deliberate.

“ You're mine forever"

This time, her smile deepened. Her hand slid down from your jaw to your waist, fingers pressing through the fabric of your training shirt.

“I missed this,” she said, barely above a breath. “Your face… your scent… how you always melt when I’m close.”

You swallowed hard.

“Yuna, this isn’t right—”

She didn’t let you finish. She leaned in again, her kiss slower now, more coaxing than demanding. But still firm. Still claiming. Her lips traced the outline of yours like she was re-learning a favorite song.

Her knee nudged between your thighs, and a soft moan escaped your lips before you could stop it. The familiar pressure sent a jolt through you, and instinctively, your hips arched, a quiet dry hump against her.

You whimpered, a low sound caught in your throat as her knee pressed further, creating a delicious friction. Her hand, still at your waist, tightened, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between your bodies. The kiss deepened, a slow, intoxicating dance of lips and tongues that left you breathless and aching for more.

"Still think this isn't right?" she murmured against your mouth, her voice husky, a triumphant undertone lacing her words.

Your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts – the forbidden nature of this moment warring with the intense pleasure blooming within you. But as her fingers trailed lower, tracing the curve of your hip and settling just above your backside, the protests died on your lips, replaced by another soft moan.

You could only cling to her, lost in the intoxicating pull of her touch, the scent of her skin, and the undeniable truth that, in this moment, you were hers.

You gasped, the last vestiges of your resistance crumbling under the weight of her touch.

"Y-Yuna… please," you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper, thick with unfulfilled desire. "Please, make it stop… or make me… make me release."

A low, throaty chuckle rumbled from her chest, a sound that sent shivers down your spine.

She pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, her eyes gleaming with a wicked amusement. "Oh, unnie," she purred, her thumb brushing over your lower lip again, "you want it so badly, don't you? Beg for it."

The taunt ignited a different kind of fire within you—a desperate need to silence her playful cruelty with something raw and undeniable. With a sudden surge of a strength, you pulled her closer, your lips crashing against hers in a fervent, demanding kiss.

It was a kiss born of pleading, of passion, of a surrender so complete it left you breathless. You poured every ounce of your longing into it, hoping to convey the depth of your desperation.

To your surprise, she met your intensity, her lips parting under yours, accepting the unspoken plea. The kiss deepened, becoming a fierce, consuming storm that mirrored the tempest raging within you. Just as you felt the exquisite tension build to an unbearable peak, a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure crashed over you. Your knees buckled, and a soft cry escaped your lips as your body arched against hers, completely lost in the powerful release.

You clung to her, trembling, your head falling against her shoulder as the last tremors of your orgasm wracked your body. It was only then, as you lay spent and vulnerable in her arms, that the full weight of the situation settled upon you.

Her grip around your waist was firm, possessive. Her scent enveloped you, and the slow, steady beat of her heart against yours was a relentless rhythm of ownership.

Imagine Irene always being overprotective of you, never letting you out of her sight.

She brushes your hair gently, her fingers lingering a little too long as she hums softly.

"You’re so innocent," she murmurs, her voice laced with something possessive. "Too naive for this world."

Her hand moves to your cheek, cupping it tenderly before she leans in, her lips dangerously close to yours.

"That’s why I have to protect you. No one else can."

Imagine Irene cornering you in your bedroom after she catches you laughing with someone else.

Her expression is unreadable, but her grip on your wrist is tight—too tight. "Why were you with them?" she asks, her voice calm but laced with quiet fury.

You stammer out an excuse, but she only pulls you closer, her breath warm against your ear. "You don’t need anyone else. You have me." Her lips brush against your jaw before she whispers,

"I won’t let them take you away from me."

Imagine Irene sneaking into your bed at night, holding you close as you sleep—her touch far from innocent.

You wake up groggily to the feeling of warm arms wrapped around your waist, a body pressed firmly against your back. Irene’s breath tickles your neck as she whispers, "Shh… just let me hold you."

Her hands, soft yet possessive, slowly glide down your sides, her fingertips grazing your bare skin beneath your oversized shirt—her shirt. She hums in satisfaction as she presses closer, her lips brushing against your shoulder before trailing down.

"You always look so perfect like this," she murmurs, her voice dripping with something dark, something dangerous.

Her fingers slip lower, teasingly skimming over your thighs, making you shiver. "So warm… so soft," she sighs, her hand now gripping your hip firmly, pulling you further into her.

"You belong to me, don’t you?" she whispers against your ear, her teeth grazing your lobe before sucking gently.

You try to turn, try to speak, but she only tightens her hold, her fingers now tracing slow, deliberate patterns on your inner thigh.

"Let me take care of you, baby…" her voice is breathy, laced with desire as she presses an open-mouthed kiss to your neck, sucking lightly. "No one will ever love you like I do."

Imagine Irene getting jealous when she sees you talking to one of your classmates.

Her smile is perfect, charming, but the grip on your hand is tight as she drags you away. The moment you’re alone, her mask slips. "Why do you keep testing me?" she asks, her voice dark and dangerous.

"Do you like making me jealous?" She pushes you against the wall, her hands caging you in. "I can be the only one you need," she whispers before tilting your chin up, her lips brushing against yours.

"Let me show you."

Imagine Irene finally confessing her twisted love for you in the most intimate, overwhelming way.

You try to pull away, your heart pounding, but her arms tighten around you, trapping you in her lap. "Stop running," she murmurs, her lips brushing against your ear, her voice filled with desperate longing.

"You don’t understand how much I love you."

Her fingers slide under the hem of your shirt, skimming over your stomach, slow and possessive.

"You were made for me," she whispers before capturing your lips in a deep, searing kiss—one that leaves no room for hesitation. It’s consuming, hungry, as if she’s trying to burn her love into you.

Her hands move lower, tracing over the curve of your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. She sighs against your lips, her touch growing firmer, her grip on your thighs tightening. "You feel it, don’t you?" she whispers, her breath hot against your skin as she kisses down your jaw.

"You’re mine."

You gasp as she pushes you onto the mattress, hovering over you, her eyes dark with desire.

"Say it," she demands, her voice trembling with obsession, her hands pinning yours above your head. "Say you belong to me."