yomamira
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All she can say in her loud, ragged chokes is I love you, I love you, I love you.
She didn’t have time, she didn’t say it, she couldn't say it.
“Please—please, I was so close,” Rumi sobs, her hand squeezing and squeezing Zoey’s own, “I love you, Zoey—Zo, Zoey, Zoey.”
No one responds.
“Zoey.” Her voice cracks.
No one listens.
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Or: Zoey as Gwen, Rumi as Spider-Man, and one suspicious clock-tower
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didn’t mean to love you like that (but i can't hold back) by yomamira
Fandoms: KPop Demon Hunters (2025)
12 Aug 2025
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Bobby answers, pulling out his phone, “you two have been the talk of, well, everywhere—Just look.”
He pushes his phone towards the girls, a small clip starting to play.
It’s a video zoomed in on Mira’s hand, which slowly trails up and down on what seems to be Rumi’s back. Her hand makes a path towards Rumi’s nape, where she flinches. Mira moves so that her arm is draping over Rumi’s back, eventually wrapping around her shoulder and hovering over the latter’s neck. The video is painfully intimate, highlighting the exact moment where Rumi lost her cool in exaggerated zooms and lazily-edited reaction memes. The caption underneath reads “Mira teasing Rumi? #RUMIRA #YURI #GL” in bold lettering, almost as if it was trying to make readers question their sanity.
Mira barely has time to react before Rumi speaks up next to her, reading her mind.
“What the fuck is that?”
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Or: Bobby thinks pushing #RuMira is a good idea, Mira is pining, and Rumi just wants everyone to stop calling her pathetic.
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time cast a spell on you (but you won't forget me) by yomamira
Fandoms: KPop Demon Hunters (2025)
11 Jul 2025
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Summary
Celine passes it off as love, because what else could it be? She raised Rumi as if she were her own daughter, took care of her for most of her life, and stood up when both her parents left. It was love that fueled her when sleepless nights couldn’t, love that dragged her out of bed in those dry mornings, love that led her to speak when she couldn’t find the words, and love brought her to Rumi.
Right?
She thinks she loves her.
At least, that’s what she hopes.
In the middle of the night when there’s no sound but the wind that brushes against her window and the breathing of the child she was told to raise, she thinks she loves her.
But in this world, where love had brought her to places of broken walls and unwelcome epiphanies, she isn’t sure if love is what she should have for Rumi. In fact, she isn’t sure if she can love anyone anymore.
Not like that, at least.
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“When a star dies, it’s a celestial phenomenon,” Himeko’s voice is almost apathetic—no, she’s admiring, “I want my passing to be like that.”
“Yours?” Kafka questions.
Himeko is silent, as if she’s contemplating what she wants to say before saying it. She lets this go on for agonizing seconds before finally speaking.
“I dream of death,” Himeko smiles at the starry sky, almost refusing to look at Kafka.
Kafka’s reply takes time, it’s only a few beats later that she can let out a small: “What?”
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Or: Himeko and Kafka stargazing with romantic tension in the background.
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Kafka’s expression lays indifferent, she takes the wine glass to take a sip, “You don’t like wine.”
She says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Who says I can’t try it?” Himeko looks at her incredulously, not believing what she’s hearing.
“I’m not stopping you,” Kafka takes another sip before handing the glass—with new lipstick stains—to Himeko.
She stares at the cup before swatting Kafka’s hand away.
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Invited to a ball by the Cloud Knights to celebrate the Astral Express’s success, Himeko is a bit out of place. Finding herself in conversation with a persistent man doesn’t do much good for her situation—however, the night takes a turn when she is asked to dance by a familiar face.