#kph

"You were right, Jinu. That's all we deserve."

A Celine who never wanted kids, who doesn't feel confident in her ability to take care of kids, but here she is with one thrust in her lap anyway, because her best friend is dead.

A Celine who has lost the two people most important to her, and with them, pretty much her entire support system.

A Celine who grew up watching people—children, even babies, included—killed by demons. A Celine haunted by her mistakes, her inability to save everyone, all the faces she saw disappear as they were eaten.

A Celine trying to bury her own terror that this child might have cannibalistic tendencies, that she might be raising a champion for Gwi-Ma.

A Celine who isn't making a Miyeong clone, but feeling so utterly inadequate, trying to strike the balance between giving Rumi a connection to her mother and not encouraging what she believes will lead Rumi to evil, to self-destruction, to vulnerability from other hunters.

(This is Miyeong' daughter, she tries to show the world, herself, Miyeong if she can at all see—this is Miyeong's daughter. She doesn't want to erase that. She can't bring herself to fully embrace that, but in some ways, small ways, she wants to show it. She wants to share parts of Miyeong with Rumi, but she's scared of not knowing just how many she safely can.)

A Celine who cannot look her daughter—her best friend's daughter—her mistakes—her nightmare—in the face.

A Celine who loves Rumi so, so much, and yet not enough. Not completely. Because she is scared, she is flawed, she is as she has always feared, too bitter, too broken, in too deep over her head with no guide on what path to take.

Mira x fem!reader

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

Gf!Mira who loves midnight calls with you, especially if she’s on tour. She’ll call just to hear your voice while lying in bed, whispering, “I wish you were here.” 

Gf!Mira wears your clothes, specifically your hoodies. She’ll take them on tour with her saying they smell like ‘home’ and sleeps in them when she misses you. 

Gf!Mira who slips secret lyrics referencing to your smile, your laugh, or the way you say her name into songs. Only you two know.

Gf!Mira who’s big spoon most of the time, arm around your waist, while her lips leave kisses on your shoulder every now and then. But when she’s little spoon, being wrapped in your arms brings her so much comfort, she falls asleep much faster that way. 

I’ll probably have to write a bunch of my ideas for like plot changes, backstory changes, saja boys honmoon weapon designs etc because it sucks doing art sometimes

Also ignore how I forgot to put patterns on Mira’s forehead

(A K-Pop Demon Hunters fan story — Rumi x Reader)

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Rumi stared at the bathroom mirror. Her fingers clutched the sink, knuckles white, breath shallow. The plastic stick trembled in her hand, blinking its result back at her like some cruel, cosmic joke. But it wasn’t a joke. It was real.

Positive.

Her vision blurred with unshed tears. Not from sadness—at least not entirely—but fear. Crushing, breath-stealing fear.

You had always made her feel safe. Loved. Even when the world demanded blood, sweat, and secrets from them both, you were her calm after every mission, her soft landing when the world felt jagged.

And now… she was carrying your child.

Rumi touched her flat stomach, heart pounding like a war drum. The strongest demon hunter of her unit, the coldest shot in the squad—terrified by something so small it didn’t even have a heartbeat yet.

Her thoughts spiraled:

What if she couldn’t protect it?

What if the demons found out?

What if you thought she ruined everything?

The sound of the front door opening jolted her.

"Rumi? Babe?" Your voice echoed through the apartment—light, warm, and grounding. Rumi quickly stashed the test in the cabinet and splashed cold water on her face. She took a breath. One more. Then another. Her hands still trembled.

You stepped into the bathroom doorway a few seconds later, eyebrows rising when you saw her. “Hey, you okay?”

Rumi nodded too fast. “Yeah. Just… long day.”

You tilted your head, unconvinced, and walked over. Your arms slid gently around her waist. She melted into your warmth like instinct.

There was a long silence before she whispered:

"I need to tell you something."

You pulled back, concern flashing in your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Rumi met your gaze. Strong and soft. Terrified and brave.

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

The kind that could shatter or bloom, depending on what came next.

Rumi's breath hitched. “I—I didn’t know this could even happen between us. I didn’t plan it. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m scared out of my f—”

You kissed her. Not urgently. Not to silence her. But gently. To remind her.

When you pulled away, your forehead rested against hers. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Rumi let out a small, shaky breath that turned into a laugh. A cry-laugh, the kind that cracked open years of guarded walls. She hadn’t realized how badly she needed to hear those words.

You tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Do you want this? The baby?”

“I do,” she whispered. “But I’m so afraid I’ll mess it up. I’ve only ever known how to kill. Not how to raise something… something good.”

You took her hand, placing it gently over her stomach. “Then we’ll learn together. And when you feel like the world is ending, I’ll remind you it’s just beginning.”

Rumi looked down, and for the first time since seeing that test, she smiled. Small. Shy. But real.

There would be chaos. There would be danger.

But for now, there was only this:

Heartbeat to heartbeat.

Fear and love.

And the beginning of something beautiful.