No One: Jimin: Have You Noticed How Small And Cute I Am? Cr. 0613data, Jung-koook, Namuspromised

The Story of Us

Pairing: Mahwa Character!Min Yoongi x Reader

Summary: You wake up in the body of the second female lead in a manhwa, determined to rewrite your fate. No longer willing to be trapped in unrequited love for the elusive main lead, Min Yoongi, you set out to change the ending of the story. But leaving him behind isn’t as simple as you thought. As the lines between fiction and reality blur, the narrative begins to shift in unexpected ways—Yoongi, who was once only devoted to the main female lead, starts to see you in a new light. Can you escape the cycle of heartbreak, or will you find yourself entangled in a love story you never asked for?

or in which Yoongi found out you aren't from that world and refuses to let you leave.

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Mention of death, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: Happy 6k to me!!! It's finally here. Those who already read the unedited fic know the scenes I added here... I went crazy again and wrote additional 3kish words. I hope you enjoy!

“Does self-love mean nothing for you?”

You commented lightly at the second female lead as you flipped the page. In your hand was the manhwa your friends were gushing about. They went on and on about how dreamy the main lead was for weeks and how annoying the second female lead was until you finally gave in and went to a bookstore one late night. The cover was unassuming, a mere illustration of a man with dark hair and a milky white skin. Despite the chatters of the few customers, it was like it all went silent when you held the manhwa in your hand. You had no rationale as to why you were staring so hard at the main lead, nor why you felt a jolt of electricity when you traced your finger on his face.

The sudden and inexplainable zap of electricity was enough for you to put the manhwa back to its shelf where it belonged. You had enough for today, you thought. It must be your late nights that finally got to you. You turned and started to walk away when you heard someone called your name.

“Are you not going to buy that?”

You blinked owlishly, turning to look your surroundings before realizing that the voice had come from behind you where an old woman with a pleasant smile on her face stood. You didn’t hear her walk, sure that it was only you in that section of the bookstore.

“Excuse me?” you asked in confusion with her sudden question.

She offered you a smile before reaching for the manhwa you were touching moments ago. “This. Are you not going to buy this?”

You glanced at the book in her hands, the cover innocuous enough—a pale-faced man with dark eyes, his expression unreadable, a haunting sort of beauty that seemed to shimmer under the dim light of the store. The same man whose face had burned into your mind the moment you’d traced your finger over it.

"Huh?" you muttered, not entirely sure what to say. "Oh, no... I—" You fumbled with your words, caught between politeness and that unsettling pull you couldn’t deny. “I’m just looking.”

She tilted her head slightly, her smile never wavering, but there was something deeper there now—an unreadable warmth and perhaps... a warning? "Such a shame. This is the last piece," she continued, her fingers running over the cover with a tenderness that made your heart race. "Are you sure you don’t want to enter his universe?"

You stared at her, perplexed. The bookstore was quiet again, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the distant murmur of other customers. But it felt like there was something else in the air now—something heavier. More alive.

As if on cue, your phone buzzed in your pocket, breaking the strange tension that had settled between you and the clerk. You fumbled it out, your heart still racing. It was a text from one of your friends: "Did you finally get the manhwa? He's sooooo hot, right?!?"

You looked from your phone to the manhwa and there it was again. It was like something was calling you to touch the book. On the other hand, your flight or fight instinct had never been this high, urging you to walk away as soon as possible. The old woman’s gaze never left you, her expression still serene, as if she knew exactly what you were thinking. The tension between you felt palpable, like a tether was drawing you back to the book, back to the man on the cover.

"You know what, dear," she continued, her voice now almost conspiratorial, "since we're almost closing, it’s on the house. Let me wrap it up for you."

When you asked her why, it was a line you should have taken in face value.

She said that reading this will change your life.

All that was how you found yourself on your bed with the manhwa and feeling bad for the second female lead. Okay fine, she was not exactly kind. She was a bit bitchy and the typical rich kid who fell for her childhood friend who of course, fell for another woman below their stature. She devised devious ways to get the main female lead out of their lives which only managed to push Min Yoongi, the male lead character, away from her. She wanted him so badly, and she had nothing else to cling to. In the end, he left her alone when all she had was him.

She was left alone, Yoongi gone from her life, and all she had left were her schemes and bitterness. You couldn’t help but wonder what she could have been if she had just let go. If she had let him go, instead of holding on so tightly that she suffocated herself.

She wasn’t a villain, you told yourself, though you knew she was far from a saint.

It wasn’t that you were defending what she did. It was just that you felt for her, strangely. You had no family of your own too, and maybe that was why you held on to your friends. You thought that if you were as pretty and as wealthy as her, then you wouldn’t spend all your time and energy pining after Yoongi. You thought about her—so pretty, so polished—and you wondered, If I were her, would I have acted the same way? If you had that beauty, that wealth, that presence, would you still feel this same deep ache for someone who couldn’t love you back? Sure, he was all that. He was handsome, smart, and so manly. For a while, it was just the two of them in their little world until he met the female lead. But then again, if you were her, you would let them be and look for someone who would love you as you were. Surely, there was someone out there for her. You wondered if it would be easy to just walk away, you thought. But then, you didn’t know what it was like to have everything and still lose the one thing that mattered most. To feel like there was no one left who could make you feel whole.

The story was so intriguing with the right amount of suspense that kept you up all night. Despite you being a non-mahwa reader, you could not bring yourself to stop reading until you reached the ending.

The words of the final chapters echoed in your mind as you read through them. Yoongi’s happiness came at her expense, and as you turned the page, you saw the final blow: She died. She died because Yoongi decided to save the main female lead from drowning instead of his childhood friend. Just like that. No grand redemption, no change of heart. She was gone. “Of course, she dies,” you murmured in annoyance as you flipped the page. “Was that really necessary for this Yoongi to get his happy ending?”

You put the manhwa down on your chest and looked up at your bedroom ceiling. You felt tears forming in your eyes and before you knew it, they were streaming down your cheeks and onto the manhwa. “Poor you. You deserved better,” you whispered as sleep took you away.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but the next time you opened your eyes, it felt like you were in a dream. More precisely, you woke up to a familiar room. You just couldn’t place it yet where you saw this room before. You sat up from the most comfortable bed you had ever been on, your eyes roaming over the whole room. Where were you?

You looked down and noticed that you were wearing a silk sleepwear…You didn’t own this. In fact, you never liked it because you couldn’t afford it. Did someone dress you in this? Were you kidnapped?

Panic surged through you like a wave, a cold knot tightening in your stomach. The thought alone pushed you to stand up quickly, your head turning rapidly to every corner of the room when a mirror across the room caught your eye. You walked over, unsure of what you were even looking for, but the reflection that met you made your heart stop.

Holy shit.

You froze in front of the mirror, your breath caught somewhere between disbelief and panic. The face staring back at you was undeniably familiar but was definitely not yours. It was her—the woman from the manhwa.

Your hand lifted slowly, as if drawn by an invisible force, and touched your cheek, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw. The reflection mimicked your every move, except there was no mistake: it wasn’t you. This version of you was flawless—her skin porcelain smooth, her lips full and painted in a soft, understated pink. You blinked hard, willing the image to change, but it remained the same, impossibly perfect.

And then it hit you, harder than any realization should have: You were in her world. You were in her body. You were the second female lead.

What the fuck was this dream?!

You pinched yourself, willing yourself to wake up from this peculiar dream where you were not you, and instead, you were someone of a fictional character. All that it did was reddened her fair skin. You truly tried not to panic, but no one and nothing could have ever prepared you from waking up in someone else’s body! More so of a fictional one. Similarly, you knew this could not be possible. You must have been dreaming.

You were just dreaming…right?

The knock on the door snapped you out of your stupor, your mind reeling as the panic tightened its grip.

“Miss? Sir Yoongi is here to see you,” the voice outside the door called, timid, hesitant.

You blinked, the words barely registering at first. Yoongi? No. No, no, no. Your heart dropped to your stomach, and the world around you seemed to tilt at an impossible angle. You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a shaky, disbelieving breath.

"Y-yoongi?" Your voice sounded strange, foreign in this body, yet with an edge of authority, the voice of someone accustomed to being looked at, obeyed.

“N-no. Why?”

“T-to visit you, Miss. He went straight here from the airport after his three-month work in New York,” she explained with a terrified tone in her voice as though one wrong word would upset you. It did upset you upon horrifying realization that you were in the first chapter of the manhwa. He was coming to see the second female lead, the one who would only ever be a part of his life for the briefest, most painful moments. The one who would disappear when the main female lead entered the picture, leaving behind nothing but heartache and regret.

This was the moment—the beginning of her unraveling. The beginning of your unraveling.

You stumbled back from the mirror, almost tripping over the hem of the silk nightgown that clung to your skin. It felt wrong. This wasn’t your body. This wasn’t you. You couldn’t be her. You couldn't.

But there you were—she was—standing in front of a mirror, and it was your face that stared back, the same face that would soon be abandoned in favor of the main lead. The face that would die tragically, just as Yoongi chose someone else.

A cold sweat broke out on your skin as you pressed your hand to your chest, feeling your heart race, the pulse throbbing in your throat. The maid outside the door was waiting. She was waiting. Yoongi was waiting.

“Miss? Are you coming?” The maid asked again, sounding more nervous now. “Sir Yoongi is waiting.”

You felt your legs walked to where the door was as though they had a mind of their own, as though they were simply following the plot where you had to face her childhood bestfriend, as though you had no choice in this. The door creaked as it slowly opened, and the maid stepped back with a small, nervous bow. “Miss,” she murmured softly, her eyes flicking between you and the hallway.

There he was. Yoongi. Standing in the hallway, waiting for you.

His broad back was turned to you, his focus was on the huge window overlooking the garden below. His hands were in his pockets. You couldn’t help but notice the bags of designer clothes and jewelries beside him. It was always like this. Yoongi would spoil her with everything, his love a quiet promise wrapped in material things. His affection was given in expensive packages, just because he missed her. It was a thing the main lead, Yoongi, and her had for the longest times. He spoiled her rotten, and in turn, she loved him unconditionally until he realized that it wasn’t her love that he wanted. It was someone else’s.

You felt your chest tighten as you stepped forward, closer to him. And then, slowly, he turned around, his gaze landing on you, his eyes sharp and calculating, as though he was seeing you for the first time. He was just as handsome as you'd imagined, his sharp features bathed in the soft light of the chandelier overhead. His expression, however, was unreadable—his usual aloofness on full display. He had on a simple black jacket, the sleeves rolled up slightly, revealing his forearms.

He was standing there, just as he had been in the manhwa—distant, untouchable, and perfect. The kind of person who seemed to have everything. Everything except the one thing that would make him whole. His lips curved into a faint smirk, the usual aloofness settling over him like a second skin. Yoongi. So damn confident. So certain of himself. Yet there was something flickering beneath that exterior, something you couldn't place.

He took a step toward you, his gaze unwavering, and for a moment, everything felt too heavy, too real. The space between you both seemed like an eternity, but somehow you couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe.

He raised his brows when you remained motionless – so dissimilar to how the second female lead threw herself in his arms in the first chapter. “What?” he said, his voice a quiet challenge. “Didn’t you miss me?”

His words hit you like a cold wave. Didn’t you miss me?

The phrase was so familiar, but it made you flinch. It was the same thing he had said to her. The second female lead. Her. The woman you had now become. You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his gaze leaving you paralyzed. How were you supposed to feel? What was the right answer?

Yoongi’s smirk deepened as he took another step closer, his presence commanding the space between you both. He wasn’t giving up.

“Aigoo,” he muttered, as though your silence had amused him. “Is my princess mad at me?” He reached out, cupping your cheeks in his hands and squishing them gently, his thumb brushing across your skin in a familiar, playful gesture. “I promise I won’t be away for that long again, okay?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. My princess. Mad at me? It was just like the manhwa. Just like how the second female lead had fallen for him—how she’d craved his affection, how she had convinced herself that he was the only one who could make her whole.

How could she not fall for him? How could she not love him when he was this—this?

See, who wouldn’t fall for that? You understood the second female lead for falling in love with him, or why she did all those terrible things when he suddenly withdrew all his affections from her. But maybe…you could change the ending. Maybe you could find a happy ending of your own away from him. You could choose differently. You could walk away. You could find your own path, away from him, away from this tragic loop. Maybe—just maybe—there was a way for you to have a happy ending. Not the one written in the manhwa, but one you could choose. One where you didn’t lose yourself in the love of a man who could never return it.

What if you and him could all have your separate happy endings?

But also, what if this was just a dream where you’d wake up later and be in your own bed?

It was almost a week later when you realized that this wasn’t a dream. Despite repeatedly pinching yourself, you still couldn’t wake up from this nightmare. You hadn’t gone out of your room since Yoongi visited, and all messages and calls from him were promptly ignored.

You couldn’t even rule out that you were actively going insane because there was no way that this was now your reality. Something inside you was telling you to do something. It was urging you to fight, to survive, not matter how difficult it would be. It was proven when he visited you and you had no control over what happened. However, you also noted that you could do things somehow differently like not hugging him when he visited, or not being affectionate to him.

There were canon events, yes. There were things that should happen as were already dictated by the manhwa. But you also had a will in this story. And if there was a chance that this was your new reality, then you would do absolutely everything to make sure that you end up living.

You had to be smart. You had an edge, you surmised. You read the entire manhwa and you knew what was going to happen. You knew what to anticipate. And the next scene? The next scene was where Yoongi met the female lead and it would be in a charity ball you and him were attending.

You were dressed to the nines, your makeup was impeccable. Around your neck was one of the second female lead’s extravagant necklaces. The dress that she chose was immaculate, a light-colored floor-length gown that would later on be ruined by the female lead’s accident in the ball. You looked down from the unfamiliar eyes staring back at you in the mirror as your maid informed you that the car was waiting downstairs. You got this.

You weren’t used to her life of extravagance and you could feel a shot of anxiety pumping in your veins as the car neared the event. You could see reporters and cameramen lining up to capture the entrance of the wealthiest of the wealthiest. Nothing in your life could have prepared you for this. You were not a confident person…but she was. You only needed to get through this night and then slowly let the events happened. You would let the two of them fall in love with each other like it needed to be.

“We’re here, miss,” your driver announced, meeting your eyes from the rearview mirror. You took a deep breath and counted to three.

1…2…3-

The door opened and just when you opened your eyes, there he was.

Camera flashes illuminated the scene from his back, yet his focus was on you. His hand was outstretched, waiting for you to reach for it. But damn it, Min Yoongi was impeccable. Just like you, he was dressed to the nines with his tailored dark suit and his brushed up dark hair. He was the epitome of what a main lead should look like. Still, you couldn’t fault both the main and second female lead for falling in love with that face. If only you weren’t trying to stay alive, then you would most probably fall for that face, too.

Too bad you were trying to stay alive.

The weight of the moment settled heavily on your chest as you stared at his outstretched hand. The flashes of the cameras were relentless, their bursts creating a kaleidoscope of light and shadow that painted Yoongi's face with an almost ethereal glow. His dark eyes bored into yours, and for a split second, the world seemed to pause.

You hesitated, your hand hovering just out of reach. This was one of those moments, wasn't it? One of the canon events you couldn’t avoid. Taking his hand was expected, a necessary step to ensure the night unfolded as the manhwa demanded. Yet, the knowledge didn’t make it any easier.

“I don’t think you can hide from me now, princess,” Yoongi’s voice was soft but firm. In fact, there was no annoyance in his tone, only a quiet patience as though you didn’t spend the past days dodging him in every turn.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to push past the whirlwind of nerves. You had to remember who you were now—or at least who you were pretending to be. She wouldn’t falter, wouldn’t hesitate. She was poised, confident, the kind of woman who could command a room with a single glance. She was a woman who knew the power she had over society.

Plastering on a polite smile, you placed your hand in his. His fingers were warm, steady, and for a moment, the contact felt grounding. You couldn’t help but notice how his hand completely engulfed yours, how he made your hands seemed dainty in comparison to his. He helped you out of the car with a practiced grace, his touch lingering for a fraction longer than necessary. You didn’t want to dwell on the fact that you felt the same electricity that you did when you first touched the manhwa.

“Shall we?” he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear it.

You knew you had no choice as he guided you up the grand entrance. This was a canon event. The canon event leading up to their meeting. You had to play your part if you wanted to not experience dying in her body.

The flashes of cameras almost blinded you had it not been for Yoongi’s broad back that shielded you from them. The two of you stopped in the middle to smile for the camera, a PR thing Yoongi had to do for his company. His hand rested on the small of your back, gently pushing you closer to him. You knew what would happen like the back of your hand, and just as written, one of the reporters asked him to define his relationship status with you.

She’s the most important woman in my life.

“She’s the most important woman in my life,” Yoongi declared with unwavering sincerity, his deep voice resonating through the flashes and murmurs of the crowd. As he looked down at you, his lips curved into that signature, disarming smile—the kind that could melt even the coldest of hearts.

The ball was just as grand as you imagined. It was apparent that the rich spared no expense in this and you couldn’t imagine that you would experience this in your life. Yoongi’s gaze lingered on you, an unreadable expression flickering in his eyes as he watched you take it all in. There was something almost amused about the way he observed you, though he said nothing. It was almost comical to him how you were impressed with this when the friend he knew practically grew up in this extravagance. You were in awe at the intricate details, the food and drink being served, and the expensive jewelries that would be auctioned tonight.

“What do you want me to bid for?” Yoongi asked, his voice low and smooth as he tipped his wineglass to his lips, his dark eyes not straying from you.

You let out a short chuckle, already knowing what to say. “I want that old ring the Queen once owned,” you answered monotonously. It was the most expensive item in the auction, and exactly the kind of thing the second female lead would desire. You, on the other hand, felt that it was ridiculous to desire something that was given by someone who dearly loved the Queen. Yoongi merely lifted his dark brow before nodding his head.

As always, her will was always his command– until it wasn’t.

The bidding war for the final piece, the ring, didn’t take that long as Yoongi continuously bidded ridiculously high amounts that the businessmen could not keep up with the younger man. Yoongi didn’t even flinch as the bids shot up. He stood there, effortlessly cool, his back straight and shoulders squared, his eyes locked on the auctioneer like a predator stalking its prey. The others tried to keep pace, their offers becoming desperate, their faces flushed with a mix of anger and humiliation as Yoongi continued to raise the stakes, his voice cold and assured as he increased his offer without hesitation.

In the end, Yoongi won. And it showed with the way he turned back to you, that same smirk still dancing at corner of his lips.

This was it.

This was the moment.

Yoongi was walking to you, his expression still that of a triumphant victor as he made his way to you. You couldn’t help but keep your eyes to him. The way his dark eyes were trained on you was captivating and you were captivated. It was as though you were the only one in this room to him, like all other people could disappear and he wouldn’t even blink. In fact, you were too captivated that you almost forgot what the next scene was.

But just as was written by the author, a waitress tripped, your light-colored dress now splashed with red wine, a stark contrast. The sound of glass breaking, the accident itself, was enough to silence the whole ballroom. Your mouth hanged agape as you looked down at your dress, and then slowly, you lift your eyes to the waitress.

Your eyes met the female lead’s. Hers was comically wide as she continuously apologized to you, her expression that of panic as her manager and more people flocked to where you were.

“What happened?” Yoongi’s voice was sharp, his usual calm replaced by a low, controlled edge. His hands clasped your arms with a firm but steady grip, his gaze darting between your face and the ruined fabric of your gown. The pristine, light-colored dress was now stained with crimson, the deep red wine soaking into the fabric and spreading like an ominous bloom.

Your eyes flicked back to the waitress—her—the female lead. Just as the manhwa dictated, there she was, the unassuming heroine, standing in front of you with wide, tear-filled eyes. Her cheeks flushed crimson as she stammered apology after apology, her hands trembling as she bent down to pick up the shards of broken glass at her feet. You saw her flinched.

“I—I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! Please forgive me, Miss!” she pleaded, her voice shaky and sincere. The panic on her face was painfully familiar. You’d read this scene before. You knew every word, every gesture.

And yet, being in it now, living it—felt different.

Your dress was ruined, yes, but more importantly, this was the moment. The one where Yoongi, the ever-distant, untouchable main lead, would first notice her. Where his protective instincts would be stirred, his curiosity piqued by her clumsy, honest nature. This was where it all began—their love story.

Except right now, he wasn’t looking at her. He was still looking at you

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now, his brows furrowed as his thumb lightly grazed your arm, checking for any sign of injury. There was no recognition in his gaze for the woman kneeling at your feet, no acknowledgment of her presence.

You blinked, caught off guard. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. By now, he should have been helping her, offering her a reassuring smile, gently lifting her to her feet. That was what the script demanded

But here he was, his focus entirely on you.

“I…” Your voice faltered as your mind raced to adjust. You needed to steer this back on track. The story needed to progress, or everything could spiral out of control. “I’m fine. It’s just the dress,” you said, forcing your tone to be light, dismissive, as though the ruined gown didn’t matter.

Yoongi’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze hardening. “It’s not fine,” he said, his voice firm. He turned, his sharp eyes landing on the waitress. The poor girl visibly flinched under his scrutiny, her hands freezing mid-motion as she tried to gather the broken pieces.

“It was an accident,” you said quickly, stepping forward and placing a hand on his arm to stop him. “Yoongi, it’s fine.” Your words were deliberate, almost desperate. You needed him to look at her, to notice her, to play his part in the story.

He hesitated, his jaw tightening, but at last, his gaze shifted to the waitress. There it was—that flicker of recognition. The moment his eyes softened, his expression melting into something less severe.

“Are you hurt?” he asked her, his tone still carrying a note of authority, but the sharp edges were gone. This was it—the moment you’d been waiting for.

The girl shook her head quickly, her cheeks turning an even darker shade of red. “N-no, sir! I’m fine. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Enough,” Yoongi interrupted gently but firmly. He crouched down, his movements slow, deliberate, as he began picking up the shards of glass alongside her. The room seemed to collectively hold its breath, all eyes on the enigmatic businessman lowering himself to help a clumsy waitress. “Be careful. You’re going to hurt yourself,” he said with a much softer voice. His gaze lingered on her face, and it was apparent that you were now forgotten.

And there it was—their first connection. The moment the story truly began.

You exhaled slowly, stepping back as the crowd around you began to disperse, the murmurs of the guests returning to their usual buzz. This was how it had to be. You just had to step back now and let their love story grow.

You reached the balcony and you thanked heavens that you were alone. You breathed a sigh of relief, both for the gratitude that you were alone and for surviving that scene. You were looking up at the stars when you felt a suit jacket landed on your shoulders, safely engulfing you with warmth and against the cold night.

You turned, not knowing who to expect but he was definitely not it. You didn’t even know who he was.

The handsome man met your eyes before flashing you a charming smile of his own that was enough to disarm you. “What a shame…”

You blinked, confused by his sudden appearance, your heart still racing from the scene inside. "What is?" you asked, voice quieter than you'd intended, as your eyes darted back toward the ballroom doors.

"That your dress was ruined," he said smoothly, his tone playful, though his eyes seemed to hold something more—curiosity, maybe, or perhaps something deeper. "You were the most beautiful girl there. You managed to catch everyone’s attention when you entered the room– including mine."

Sputtering at his confidence, you felt your cheeks heated up from his statement. “Were?”

The side of his eyes crinkled as he looked at you. He couldn’t believe that the elusive and untouchable you were giving him the time of the day. You were always in Yoongi’s orbit, and everyone knew how powerful his family was. It was always the two of you in your own little world, and Yoongi was seldom far from you. It was the reason why suitors couldn’t reach you. No one needed the Min Yoongi for an enemy.

It was safe to say that the relationship between the two of you were always a question mark to the onlookers. In the world of the rich, the two of you should have been long engaged if that was the case. And a chance that Yoongi was far from you was not to be wasted. And so, he took the chance.

“You still are,” he breathed honestly. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You were so magnificent and he understood why Yoongi was similar to a guard dog when it came to you. He extended his hand to you. “I’m Kim Taehyung.”

You only had to wait, but the waiting got boring. When you’d read the manhwa, the pacing had felt seamless, the love story unfolding with a rhythm that kept you turning the pages. Here, however, their love story took time.

It turned out that not only were you bored, but you were also extremely wealthy in this life. You rationalized that it would be okay to enjoy her life just a little.

Leaning on the balcony railing, you released your fifteenth sigh of the day, staring blankly at the sprawling estate below. Behind you, the ever-dutiful maid hovered, hands clasped nervously in front of her. Her expression flickered between concern and trepidation, as though bracing for one of the infamous tantrums her mistress was known for. Lately, though, you’d given her nothing of the sort—no sharp words, no impatient outbursts. That, in itself, seemed to unsettle her.

However, another sigh from you finally prompted her to ask you what was wrong.

Her eyes widened, startled by the question. “I… I suppose I’d pay off my family’s debts,” she admitted, voice small. “It’s been weighing on us for years.”

“How much?” you asked, your tone casual, as though inquiring about the weather.

“Three million,” she murmured, her cheeks coloring as though the very amount embarrassed her. “But I couldn’t possibly—”

“Consider it done,” you interrupted breezily, waving off her protests. “Next?”

“Maybe…I’d go to Paris?”

You nodded, your eyes gleamed as the spark of inspiration ignited within you. A brilliant, slightly impulsive idea. “That’s perfect. Grab your passport.”

It turned out that Paris was also someone’s favorite place.

You were sitting in a café one late afternoon, willing the time to pass by quickly so you could return to your life as evidenced by your poor attempt at reading a book when the chair in front of you was suddenly occupied. With your peace suddenly gone, you looked up and met his eyes. He was smiling at you, his dark hair brushed away from his face, so dissimilar to how formal he looked when you met him.

“We must stop meeting like this.”

He chuckled at your expression before he leaned in on the table. “In Paris, of all places. I have to say, this is starting to look like fate.”

Who was he exactly?

You tried to rack your brain of his scenes in the manhwa, and you had been ever since you met him in that ball. He wasn’t supposed to be in the scene…or was it possible that that happened behind the scene when the focus wasn’t on you, but on Yoongi and the female lead?

“Do you believe in fate, Mr. Kim?” you titled you head in curiosity, looking at him intently for any sort of familiarity that may come your way.

“I do and I don’t. I think that fate is an abstract concept that no man can ever define. There are some things that we are just too powerless to stop; and there are some things that we are too powerful to accept,” he stated with a smile on his face. “You’re here because of fate, Y/N. Don’t you think so?”

“What?”

Taehyung chuckled and patiently waited as the waiter placed his cup of hot chocolate on the table. “I think that you’re fated to be here at this exact moment.”

“What are you saying, Taehyung?”

“I’m saying, have dinner with me tonight.”

It was your second week in Paris when curiosity finally got the better of you. On the other hand, you could say that the past few days were one of the most interesting days of your life. You never knew that that little dinner with Taehyung could result to you gaining a true friend here. He was interesting, quirky, wise, and full of life. You also learned that he went to the same school as the original second female lead and Yoongi attended, and that he could never befriended you before because Yoongi was always with you. He offhandedly noted that it was so rare for him not to be with you when before, wherever you went, he would follow. Speaking of the character that you assumed, her phone—your phone now—sat untouched on the marble nightstand of your hotel suite. You’d avoided it so far, reasoning that it felt like rifling through a stranger’s diary. But tonight, as the soft glow of the Eiffel Tower illuminated the room, you gave in.

Plugging it in, the device vibrated to life, and a flood of notifications lit up the screen. Your jaw dropped slightly as you skimmed through the endless stream of missed calls and messages. Most of them were from Yoongi.

“Of course,” you muttered under your breath, scrolling through the list. There were texts, voicemails, and even some emails from him, all timestamped over the last two weeks.

His messages started casual enough, asking you where you were and if you were still avoiding him. He even stopped by the mansion only to find out that you weren’t there, let alone in the country. Not one in your mansion could tell him where you were despite his endless threats. As days passed by, however, his tone shifted to frustration.

I’m not kidding anymore. If I don’t hear from you, I’m coming to find you.

I am hiring a team to find you, princess.

His final message was dated today.

I do hope you remember that it is my birthday today. We always celebrate it together. We’re not gonna stop now just because you’re hiding from me.

You stared at the phone for a moment longer, the screen dark now but somehow still demanding your attention. Should you respond? What would you even say?

The phone vibrated in your hand, the screen lighting up with his name. Your stomach did a little flip, but you shook your head firmly. No. You weren’t going to answer. It was better this way—for him, for you, for the storyline. Yoongi belonged with the female lead, and the longer you stayed out of their orbit, the better. If you wanted to live, you had to do the opposite of what the second female lead did.

Instead, you grabbed your jacket, ready to explore the city some more with Taehyung. Paris was too beautiful to waste time fretting over a fictional man’s messages. Let Yoongi wait.

But just as you opened your hotel room, there he was with his signature stoic face, his dark brow raised. He pointedly looked at your phone, his name on the screen. He had his phone on his ear, while you had yours in your hand. You were literally caught red-handed ignoring his calls.

He ended the call with a deliberate tap and tucked his phone into his pocket, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Going somewhere?”

“What are you doing here?” you asked, shocked at his sudden appearance. He was supposed to be with her. The story said that he was supposed to be with her, celebrating with her, saving her from any other accidents or situations she found herself in. You did your part by staying the hell away from them….so why was he here?

Yoongi tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” His tone was calm, but the edge was unmistakable. He stepped inside as though he owned the place. He didn’t ask for permission, didn’t wait for an invitation. He was just… there, filling the room with his presence like he always did. “And Paris, of all places? You’re more predictable than you think, princess.”

“I-I mean, I didn’t think you’d notice,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper, already regretting how ridiculous it sounded.

“What? How could I not? You literally disappeared on the face of the earth. You think I wouldn’t notice when you disappeared? When you’re not there?”

The intensity in his gaze left you momentarily stunned, your thoughts scrambling for coherence. “Y-you’re not supposed to be here…” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. Your disbelief bled into your words, your mind struggling to reconcile his presence with what you knew—or thought you knew. “The story says you’re supposed to be with her. This isn’t—this isn’t how it goes.”

“What story?”

You blinked owlishly, realizing what you’d said. “Huh? Nothing!” you exclaimed a little too quickly, waving your hands as if to physically push the moment away. “Anyway! Happy birthday!” you added, your voice unnaturally bright, hoping to distract him.

His squint deepened, a mix of curiosity and frustration flickering in his eyes. He clearly didn’t buy your deflection, but he let it slide—for now. Without a word, he crossed the room to the small bar cart in the corner, casually pouring himself a glass of whisky.

The tension in the air was thick as he swirled the amber liquid in the glass, his movements deliberate. He raised the glass to his lips, his gaze never leaving yours. You could practically see the wheels turning in that intelligent brain of his as he sized you up. After taking a slow sip, he finally spoke, his voice low, “Glad you remember my birthday, princess.”

Okay, fine. You were at loss. How were you supposed to know what you should say? This was not in the manhwa! Yoongi was basically going off-script!

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Instead, you turned your gaze to the door, silently willing him to leave. But Yoongi didn’t move. If anything, he seemed more determined, his presence as unyielding as ever.

“Fine,” he said after a long moment, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. “If you won’t come back, then I’ll stay. Paris is nice this time of year, isn’t it?”

He stuck by you like a shadow and he all but bought the entire hotel floor. He was adamant on spending every moment with you. The most baffling part? He still kept in touch with her. He called, he texted, he checked in on the female lead—but here he was, right beside you, refusing to leave. It made no sense. To add confusion to the mix, Yoongi kept on shooting dark glares at your phone whenever it chimed from Taehyung’s messages and he felt himself getting irritated. He wondered who was brave enough to message you when no one used to before except him.

You had been away for him for just a short time and yet, he felt like you were so far away already, like something shifted, like your entirety changed. It was like you were not the best friend he used to have.

You looked down at your phone as soon as it chimed again and you couldn’t help but chuckled at the silly selfie he took with a duck. You were too engrossed in your phone that you missed the way Yoongi gripped his utensils. You and him hadn’t spent time together since you were so busy evading him and now that he finally caught up with you, your attention was somewhere else.

Why were your attention not on him?

Who was stealing your attention away from him?!

Was this how you punished him because of his current fling?

The sound of Yoongi’s sharp exhale pierced the air, and you glanced up just in time to see his fingers grip the edge of his glass with more force than was necessary. His jaw was tight, his eyes narrowed—not at the phone in your hand, but at you. He didn’t say anything, but the silence between you both was thick with something unspoken, a tension you had been drowning in since he followed you here.

It wasn’t that you wanted to ignore him, but the truth was... you didn’t know how to deal with this version of Yoongi. The one who wasn’t following the script. The one who was here in Paris, beside you, watching you laugh at Taehyung's ridiculous duck selfie like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“What’s so funny?” Yoongi’s voice was quiet, but it was sharp. He didn’t bother to look at your phone. Instead, his gaze stayed locked on your face, his eyes a shade darker, deeper than you remembered them being.

You blinked, momentarily stunned by the sudden shift in his mood. “Oh, nothing, just a ridiculous selfie from my friend,” you said, still chuckling to yourself. “He’s with a duck.”

“He?” His voice held a dry amusement, but there was an edge to it that made you uncomfortable.

You could feel the subtle tension thickening in the air, like the weight of a storm about to break. Yoongi's question hung between you like a spark in dry tinder. You shrugged, pretending to be casual, though the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. "Yes, he. My friend Taehyung," you said, not looking up from your phone.

But you could feel Yoongi’s eyes boring into you, every syllable of his next words like a tightening coil. “Taehyung,” he repeated, his voice cold and deliberate, as though testing the name on his tongue. His grip on his glass had tightened to the point where his knuckles were white, but it didn’t stop the slow, calculated sip he took, his gaze never leaving you.

The way he said his name made it seemed like your friendship with him was a mistake, a simple blunder on your end that shouldn’t have happened. It did feel like you stepped on a live mine, and you wondered why you were feeling like this when from what you knew about his character in the manhwa, Yoongi was a pure person. However, right now he felt like a dangerous one.

What were you supposed to do?

“You’re thirty now,” you said instead, steering the conversation away from an unfamiliar territory as you placed the phone facedown. The two of you were having brunch in a famous restaurant and you were thoroughly enjoying the croissant moments before the conversation turned sour.

He regarded you for a moment, fully aware of how you this was your sad attempt at changing the subject until he decided to put you out of misery. He nodded, waiting for you to make your point.

“You’re not getting any younger-”

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “What’s the point of this conversation, princess? You’re starting to sound like my grandma." He paused, as if savoring the thought. "By the way, she keeps asking for you. Says, and I quote, ‘her favorite grandchild never comes to visit anymore.’ Not even a phone call. Meanwhile, I’m still here, the actual grandchild, and I get nothing."

His glare was sharp, but there was no real venom behind it—just the familiar teasing edge that made you both roll your eyes and laugh, despite yourself.

“W-well! I’m just concerned that you won’t have a wife and any children of your own and that you’d grow old alone! I’m just a friend expressing concern over her best and oldest friend…” you rationalized. Fine, you were having fun teasing him while nudging him in the right direction. Yoongi was fun to mess with, you thought, if he was being himself and not the confusing and quite off-putting mood he was in a while ago.

You thought that he would react the way you anticipated him to, that he would get defensive and after which, hopefully, that he’d go back to their love story.

He did none of those things.

Instead, Yoongi leaned in, his manly scent permeating. He tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, all while looking at you. “Why are you saying that I’ll be alone when I have you?”

You blinked, trying to process what Yoongi had just said. His voice, low and warm, carried a weight that wasn’t there a moment ago. You wanted to laugh, to brush it off like the teasing banter you two always shared, but the way his dark eyes held yours made it impossible. “I have you for always, right, princess? You’re not going to leave me for someone…beneath us, right?”

What?

His words seemed like he was pointing to another thing, like what he was asking you was a promise to be set in stone and not a mere assurance on his part. What was the real second female lead to say in situation like this?

“O-of course! We’re best friends! N-now let’s get out of here. I saw this beautiful necklace in that shop. It’s going to look beautiful on her. Maybe if you buy her that, then she’d forgive you for spending your birthday away from her,” you joked to deflect him, standing up and gathering your purse to escape the situation you found yourself in before he could even blink.

Think, Y/N. Think.

You gripped the stem of your wine glass, staring blankly at the flickering candle in the center of the table. The plot was veering off course, drifting further from the original narrative you knew by heart. Yoongi wasn’t supposed to be here with you, his steady presence upending the delicate balance of the story.

The main lead wasn’t supposed to stay by your side like this

Across the room, Yoongi was speaking with one of his father’s acquaintances, his posture relaxed but exuding the quiet authority that came so naturally to him. It gave you a few precious moments to breathe—and to think.

Ever since Paris, Yoongi almost never let you out of his sight. He would spend every free time of his with you. You couldn’t even refuse because he would get so suspicious. His best friend never said no to him, he knew that. Your previous actions of distancing yourself from him resulted in him latching on to you. What could you do to push him in the right direction which was to be with her?

What was the next canon event?

And then it hit you.

The company gala. The turning point. That was when he would bring her, the female lead, into the lion’s den. His family’s icy disapproval, their sharp-edged words of disdain, and their outright rejection of his choice would culminate in a dramatic declaration. Yoongi would stand by her side, rebel against his family, and announce that she was the one he wanted to marry.

It was a pivotal scene. A non-negotiable in the grand arc of his story.

You exhaled shakily. If you could just steer him toward that event, everything will fall back into place. You just needed to figure out when it was happening now that the timeline was unraveling in ways you couldn’t predict.

You just had another problem, though. The man that was now walking back to you was acting like someone who had his heart set on another, so unlike the Min Yoongi from the manhwa who only had eyes for her. His attention was unwavering, but it should not have been pointed to you but to her. The way his gaze softened whenever he looked at you, his refusal to leave your side—it was all wrong. None of it fit.

“Sorry about that,” Yoongi’s voice broke through your thoughts as he returned to the table. He slid back into his seat, his sharp eyes scanning your face. “You okay? You look… distracted.”

You forced a smile, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m fine. Just lost in thought.”

“About what?” He tilted his head, genuinely curious, and the warmth in his gaze made your stomach twist. He did hope that your attention was not being diverted by someone he didn’t even want to mention. He couldn’t even understand why the thought of you with someone else didn’t sit right with him. He couldn’t understand why he had this urge to remove the pest away from you.

“Doesn’t you company have an annual gala? I was thinking of what to wear. When is it again?” you asked, taking a sip of your drink to hide your nerves.

He was looking at you as though deep in thought, as though you were forgetting something. He tilted his head to the side, “You know it’s always in December. You always choose your dress a year in advance, princess,” Yoongi said, his voice laced with mild curiosity. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he studied you. “Why? You’ve never been one to care much about those kinds of things before.”

Your breath caught at his words. You always choose your dress a year in advance, princess. The familiarity, the ease with which he said it, threw you off. That line—it didn’t belong here. Not in this timeline. Not in this version of the story where your role was supposed to be temporary, a placeholder in the grand narrative between him and her.

“Right,” you said, forcing a light laugh that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Guess I forgot for a moment. Been busy, you know.”

Yoongi didn’t buy it. His gaze sharpened, a hint of amusement mingled with curiosity. “You? Forget? That’s not like you.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his posture relaxed but his eyes piercing. “What’s really going on?”

The intensity in his gaze made your stomach twist again. Stay calm. Don’t let him see.

“Nothing’s going on,” you said, a touch too quickly. You took another sip of your drink, using the motion to avoid his eyes.

“Anyway, December’s coming up fast, and I’m guessing you’re planning to bring her, right?” You kept your tone light, as if the question didn’t weigh heavily on your chest.

Yoongi’s expression shifted, the smirk fading as his brows furrowed slightly. “Her?”

You swallowed hard. “You know… the one you’ve been calling and texting all the time.” You gestured vaguely, hoping to seem indifferent. “The woman you’ve been—well, I thought you were planning to introduce her to your family at the gala.”

Yoongi smiled again, but this time, it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Let’s see, princess.”

“Admit that you had fun,” Taehyung teased you as he drove you home.

You couldn’t help the smile that crept across your lips. Against all odds, you’d genuinely enjoyed yourself. You did have fun. You always thought that movie dates were boring and full of cliché, but not with him. With Taehyung, everything felt effortless—light and uncomplicated, like breathing.

“Fine,” you conceded with mock reluctance, your tone carrying the weight of faux irritation. “It was a fun…”

“Date,” he finished smoothly, his eyes glinting with amusement as your voice trailed off.

Your cheeks burned at his audacity, the straightforwardness of the word stealing your ability to respond for a moment. A "date"? Could you even call it that? The way your heart fluttered betrayed any argument you might have tried to form.

You glanced away, fidgeting with the strap of your bag as thoughts tangled in your mind. Was it okay to feel this way? To bask in fleeting moments of happiness when the life you were living wasn’t truly yours? When you were still determined to set things right, to restore the balance of a narrative that had gone astray?

So caught up in your musings, you barely noticed the car slowing to a stop in the estate’s driveway. The towering grand doors loomed ahead, a stark reminder of the world you’d return to the moment you stepped out.

“Thank you,” Taehyung’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. It was quiet, genuine, and when you turned to look at him, his face was softer than you’d ever seen it.

“For what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“For being here,” he replied simply, his gaze holding yours.

The weight of his sincerity pressed against your chest, making it harder to breathe. Before you could respond, he leaned in, closing the distance between you. The world seemed to slow as his hand moved to cup your face, his fingers brushing against your skin with a tenderness that made your heart stutter.

Your breaths mingled, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips hovered so close to yours it was almost unbearable. You could feel the moment hanging on a fragile thread, teetering on the edge of something irreversible.

The room’s golden hues seemed to dim as the sound of the car horn echoed through the driveway, shattering the fragile intimacy between you and Taehyung. You jolted back, your heart pounding in your chest as if caught in an act of betrayal—though you hadn’t technically done anything wrong. Yet.

Taehyung sighed, his expression softening as he glanced toward the car behind him. “Looks like your knight in shining armor doesn’t know how to wait,” he said lightly, though there was a hint of tension in his voice.

You managed a shaky laugh, your hand gripping the strap of your bag tightly. “He’s just… overprotective.”

“Right,” Taehyung said, leaning back in his seat. His eyes met yours, warm and understanding, but with a flicker of something else—something that made your chest tighten. “Still, I meant what I said. Thanks for tonight.”

Before you could respond, the honk came again, sharper this time, as if Yoongi were making a point. You turned to glance at his car, the sleek black exterior glinting under the estate’s lights. Even from this distance, you could feel his piercing gaze locked on you.

“Goodnight, Taehyung,” you said hurriedly, fumbling with the door handle.

Taehyung smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You stepped out of the car and started toward the grand door, the cold evening air biting at your skin. Yoongi’s car door slammed shut behind you, and the sound of his footsteps was a quiet storm approaching. You didn’t dare look back, your heart a riot of guilt, frustration, and confusion.

“Princess,” Yoongi’s voice cut through the quiet, smooth and controlled, but laced with an edge you couldn’t ignore.

You stopped in your tracks, turning slowly to face him. He was already close, his dark eyes scanning your face like a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. His suit was immaculate, as always, but there was an undercurrent of tension in his posture—shoulders just a little too stiff, jaw a little too tight.

“You’re back late,” he said, his tone deceptively casual.

“I went to see a movie with Taehyung,” you replied, keeping your voice neutral.

At the mention of Taehyung, Yoongi’s gaze flicked past you to the car that was now idling at the end of the driveway. You followed his line of sight and felt a pang of unease as his expression shifted. His brows raised slightly as he studied Taehyung through the window, his head tilting just enough to convey an air of quiet disdain.

And then he smirked—a slow, deliberate curl of his lips that sent an unfamiliar shiver down your spine. It wasn’t the Yoongi you were used to seeing. In that moment, he was something else entirely: sharp, commanding, almost cruel. The kind of presence that demanded submission without a word.

“What did you say his last name was, princess?” he asked, still watching Taehyung with that same unsettling smirk. His tone was light, but there was something in it—something dark—that made your heart beat faster.

“Kim?” you replied thoughtlessly, your mind too preoccupied with wanting to escape the tension. “Why did you ask?”

Finally, he turned his attention back to you, his gaze softening just enough to make the moment feel surreal. The shift was so subtle, so practiced, that it left you second-guessing the sharpness you’d just seen. He reached out, his arm sliding around your shoulders with an ease that felt both natural and calculated.

“No reason, princess,” he said smoothly, steering you toward the grand doors of the estate. “Just… curious.”

The warmth of his arm contrasted sharply with the coldness that lingered in the air. It was disarming, the way he could shift so easily between roles—between the man you knew and the one you weren’t sure you ever wanted to meet again.

As he guided you inside, you cast one last glance over your shoulder. Taehyung’s car hadn’t moved, the figure inside still watching. You couldn’t see his face, but you imagined the tension mirrored your own.

When the doors shut behind you, the weight of Yoongi’s presence beside you grew heavier. His hand rested lightly against your shoulder, his touch far gentler than the unease simmering just beneath the surface.

"Don’t you have better things to do than come to my dress fitting? Like, I don’t know, actually run your empire or something?" you asked, stepping out of the fitting room with a huff.

Yoongi sat sprawled on the plush sofa, one arm draped lazily along the backrest, a glass of champagne balanced effortlessly in his other hand. He looked utterly at ease, as if this boutique was his second home and not a place he had followed you to.

He shrugged, “Well, we can’t have you running away from me again, can we?”

“For the last time, I didn’t run away! I was in Paris because croissant sounded nice that day-”

“Sure, princess,” he agreed condescendingly. Yoongi’s gaze swept over you, lingering a moment longer than you expected. “On the other hand, you look immaculate in that dress,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “You’re going to make the rest of the gala feel underdressed.”

Heat crept up your neck at his words, but you quickly masked it with a scoff. “Flattery doesn’t suit you, Yoongi. Save it for the boardroom or—better yet—for her.”

He raised an eyebrow, swirling the champagne in his glass as if you hadn’t just tried to divert the conversation. “Her?” he echoed, tilting his head with mock curiosity.

You rolled your eyes, refusing to meet his gaze. “Yes, her. The one you met in the previous ball? The waitress? The one you’ll be introducing to your family at the gala, remember? Does she ring a bell?”

“We’re still talking about that?” Yoongi asked, his tone laced with amusement as he leaned back into the plush sofa. The glass of champagne in his hand tilted slightly, catching the light as he swirled the golden liquid. “Why are you so invested in my relationship with her?”

“I’m just concerned and curious as a friend.”

He chuckled softly, setting his glass down on the table beside him. “Curious, huh? And here I thought you were just jealous.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “Jealous?”

Yoongi leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze never leaving yours. “You keep bringing her up. You’re obsessed with the idea of me introducing her to my family, of me texting her. You sure this isn’t just about you not wanting to share me?”

Your face burned, and you turned away, pretending to adjust the dress in the mirror. “You’re ridiculous and I refuse to discuss this further,” you muttered. “I’m going to buy this!” You announced before stalking back to the fitting room to avoid wondering about why your heart was skipping a beat and why you shouldn’t venture into that.

You were huffing as you tried to reach for the zipper behind you when the curtain suddenly opened and Yoongi stepped in, making the room felt impossibly small. You instinctively turned your back to him, clutching at the unzipped dress as though a protection against whatever this was.

“What are you doing here?!”

Yoongi leaned casually against the side of the fitting room, his smirk firmly in place. “Helping you, obviously,” he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“I don’t need your help!” you snapped, tugging at the zipper yourself but struggling to reach it.

“Doesn’t look like it,” he said smoothly, taking a step closer. His fingers brushed against yours as he gently moved your hand away. “Relax, princess. I’ll take care of it.”

You froze, your heart pounding as his hands moved to the zipper. His touch was surprisingly delicate, his fingers grazing your back as he carefully pulled the zipper up. The sound of the zipper seemed deafening in the silence.

“There,” he said softly, his voice low and close to your ear. “All done.”

You were about to turn around when he stopped you. You met his dark eyes through the mirror, and the intensity in his gaze held you captive. His hands lingered lightly on your shoulders, warm against the smooth fabric of the dress. There was something unreadable in his expression—a mix of curiosity, amusement, and something far deeper that you couldn’t quite name.

“You’re very beautiful, princess. Do you know that?” he whispered, resting his chin on your delicate shoulder.

“Yoongi, what are you doing?”

He was quiet for a moment as though in contemplation whether to say what he wanted to say. Like in the manhwa, Yoongi was calculating. He never did anything without a reason, one of which would benefit him. “I had a nightmare the night after the ball,” he finally confessed, his voice low and almost distant, as if recalling something that lingered in his mind. “We were on the yacht. I think it was a party. You were there… She was there. I was there. And the yacht… it slammed into a rock. The two of you were thrown off.”

If he felt your body went rigid, he didn’t mention. He never broke eye contact, his arms around your waist as he told you of his dream. The one exactly what happened in the manhwa– the one where the main lead chose to save the main female lead first, only to find out the it was already late for the second female lead.

His body was so close that you could feel the slight tremble in his arms as he spoke, his fingers grazing your waist with the same careful intensity.

You met his gaze in the mirror again, and something twisted in your stomach. There was an almost predatory look in his eyes, but there was something else too—something far more vulnerable, raw. He didn’t break eye contact, and his grip on you tightened just slightly, as though he wanted to hold on, as though he was afraid you’d slip away.

“In my dream,” he continued, his voice barely a whisper, “I saw you die because I saved her first. It felt so real, like I was remembering something that already happened.” He paused, and you felt the weight of his words sink in. “Why would I save her first when I know I can’t lose you?”

 “It’s just a dream…” you tried to console him. How could he remember something that happened in the ending? Was the barrier between the characters and the plot weakening? What was changing? And how could you go back to your own world when he was holding onto you so tight as though if he looked away, you’d disappear?

“It is, right? It’s not going to happen... I’ll make sure of it.”

December came.

It was the month you were both dreading and anticipating. You were almost at the end of the story, and so far, you did your absolute best to let their love story unfold without a second female lead antagonizing it. You did your part by staying away from them. One problem though, the male lead was not acting like he was written in the manhwa. He was not acting like a man in love should be to her. Instead, he was out there sticking to you like

It was safe to say that Min Yoongi went rouge.

You did not know what to expect in the annual gala. You no longer have the upper hand. You were in the blind as though you were a real character and no longer a reader. You feared that the longer you stayed in this fictional world, the more likely that you’d be incorporated in the story and no longer as a second female lead that could just easily disappear.

You needed answers on how to escape from this fictional world. Answers eluded you. Worse still, so did the only person who seemed to see you for who you were. Taehyung. Since that night, not once did Taehyung answer you calls nor respond to your numerous messages. You tried asking your trusted staff about him, but even they were mummed. It was only your closest maid who whispered to you what transpired and how Taehyung’s budding business empire had crumbled overnight, crushed under the weight of lawsuits—tax evasion, fraud, and other accusations you couldn’t fathom. The news left you hollow. You hadn’t seen this coming. The man who had been your one source of normalcy, the one who made you feel like a real person instead of a pawn in someone else’s story, had disappeared into the shadows of scandal. You thought to yourself that maybe you really didn’t know him at all and that it was best to just focus on how to once and for all, leave this universe.

But who could you ask?

You continued anxiously tapping your heels on the marbled flooring, observing the guests. You were in the corner, trying to hide in the shadows so you could freely look for her. He would be bringing her, right?

Where is she?

Your eyes scanned the room again, trying to keep your presence hidden in the shadows. The guests were mingling, lost in the glitter of conversation and champagne. Laughter bubbled up in the air, but none of it felt real. Not like it should have. None of this was real, in fact. This was a fictional world where you were stuck in.

You wondered what would happen if you stopped playing her role. But before you could dwell on that thought, the door opened again, and you stiffened. You were expecting to see the main female lead, yet instead, it was Yoongi. The man of the hour. He entered the room and all the guests he passed greeted and congratulated him for setting another record in his empire, yet his eyes always returned to you. Where was she? This was not supposed to be like this. Yet, you knew in the back of your mind that something integral changed. You were in denial about how you no longer had control over this, that you might as well be truly in the story now, no longer an observer, no longer able to hide behind the pages of the manhwa.

You stepped back involuntarily, no longer feeling the courage you had faked for so long. You lost control. You had to find a way out. However, when you slipped away and turned the corner, you bumped into an old, yet dignified woman. You bowed in apologies when it dawned upon you.

You have seen her before.

Slowly, your eyes lifted to hers. You knew her. She was the woman who gave you the manhwa… How was she in this world?!

Your mouth hanged agape as the corner of her lips lifted, her eyes crinkling when she saw the dawn of recognition on her face. “I told you reading it will change your mind.”

“It’s you,” you whispered, taking an unsteady step back. Your eyes darted over her, as if trying to piece together a puzzle that didn’t belong in this world. “H-how… How are you here? What’s going on? Y-you have to help me. Why am I here? How can I leave?!”

She studied you for a moment, her gaze steady, unreadable. “You’re here because someone wants you here, dear.”

“I don’t want to be here! I want to go back.”

Her head tilted slightly, her calm demeanor unwavering. “But why? What do you have in your old life that you so desperately want to return to? Aren’t you alone there? Didn’t you have no one to love you?”

“That’s not the point!” you shot back, a tremor running through your voice. “And it’s not different here. No one loves me—no one even knows the real me.”

Her smile deepened, a glint of something—mischief, perhaps?—in her eyes. “Ah, but who do you think was desperate enough, filled with enough sorrow, to pull you into this universe?”

Your breath caught, confusion clouding your mind. “I… I don’t understand.”

“When she died,” the woman began, her voice lowering, as if unveiling a truth long buried, “the manhwa ended. But did you think the characters would simply cease to exist? No, dear. They continued, burdened by the pain of their story. Yoongi was devastated. He regretted everything—every word, every choice, every moment that led to her death. He mourned her. His sorrow was so great, it transcended the story’s limits and reached you.”

Your head spun. “Me?” you repeated weakly, disbelief dripping from your voice.

“Dear, you are her. Just in a different universe. It’s the reason why you sided with her, why you felt for her, why her character called on you, why her pain felt like your own. You are her.”

“I don’t want to be her,” you said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t choose this. Please—just send me back to my own universe.”

The woman sighed, her expression softening, though her eyes retained their strange, knowing glimmer. “The only way out,” she said slowly, “is through. The manhwa will only release you when its story ends. And you know how it ends, don’t you?”

A cold realization began to settle in your chest. “When he marries the female lead,” you murmured, dread weaving through every syllable. Your words hung in the air, heavy and final.

The sharp sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, breaking your trance. You barely had time to gather your thoughts before a familiar voice cut through the suffocating stillness.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you. What are you doing here?”

Yoongi’s low, commanding tone sent a jolt through you, but it was his grip—firm but not harsh—as his hand closed around your arm that made your breath hitch.

You turned to face him, his dark eyes locking onto yours. They were intense, holding a darkness that made your stomach churn. Something simmered beneath his composed exterior, something unsettling.

“How long have you been standing there?” you asked, your voice unsteady.

His lips quirked into a small, unreadable smile. “I just arrived, princess,” he said, the pet name rolling off his tongue like silk. “What are you doing here? Alone?”

“I…” You hesitated, your mind racing for an excuse. “I was just talking to—”

When you turned back, the old woman was gone.

Your heart sank, panic surging through you. The corridor where she had stood moments ago was now empty, as though she had vanished into thin air.

Yoongi frowned, his grip on your arm tightening slightly. “Talking to who?” he pressed, his voice dropping.

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, but the weight of it was crushing. “No one,” you said quickly, your voice barely above a whisper. “She must’ve left before you got here.”

Yoongi looked down at you, his expression calm, his gaze steady. Yet, something about the way he held himself—the deliberate gentleness, the faint curve of his lips—made unease coil tightly in your chest. A part of you whispered that this tenderness was a mask, that he wasn’t as naïve or benign as he seemed.

But then he smiled.

It was a tender smile, soft around the edges, and for a fleeting moment, your doubts dissolved like mist under the morning sun.

“Let’s get back to the party, princess,” he said, his voice a soothing balm against the tension humming in your veins. “Your parents arrived.”

Your steps faltered. “My parents?”

The mention of them sent a jolt through you. They were a peripheral presence in the story, barely more than a footnote in the manhwa’s narrative. They were always overseas, managing their company, distant figures who left their daughter to fend for herself. Their absence was a plot device, a catalyst for your dependence on Yoongi.

But now, they were here.

“W-why are they here?” you asked, your voice trembling despite your effort to steady it.

Yoongi stopped walking, turning to face you fully. His expression didn’t change, but there was something unsettling in the way his eyes softened, like he was trying to calm a skittish animal. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, his tone quiet yet resolute.

The words only made your pulse quicken. He offered his arm to you, his demeanor so effortless, so composed, as though he hadn’t just upended everything you thought you knew about the storyline. “Shall we?”

Were you imagining things, or were the guests’ gazes lingering just a little too long as you and Yoongi re-entered the ballroom? Conversations paused, eyes flickering in your direction, a murmur of whispers spreading like ripples across the sea of elegantly dressed attendees.

Yoongi, as always, was composed. His hand rested lightly on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd with an ease that belied the tension curling in your chest. You tried to focus on the glittering chandeliers, the music, the familiar opulence of the space, but the weight of the stares made it impossible.

“There’s our little girl!”

The warm, dignified voice cut through the hum of the crowd, pulling your attention to its source. Your mother stood near the edge of the room, resplendent in a gown that rivaled the grandeur of the occasion. Her face lit up with delight as she strode toward you, arms outstretched.

“Y-you’re here…” you stammered, shock rendering you momentarily immobile as she pulled you into an embrace. Her movements were graceful yet firm, as though she’d been waiting for this moment.

“Of course, we’re here,” she said, stepping back to study your face, her smile warm but tinged with something calculating. “Why wouldn’t we be? It’s not every day that our dear daughter gets engaged.”

Your heart raced, panic rising as you tried to process what was happening. “I… I don’t understand,” you managed, your voice trembling as you looked between your parents and Yoongi.

Yoongi stepped closer, the warmth of his hand on your back turning into a subtle yet firm pressure. His voice dropped to a low murmur, meant only for your ears, as his sharp eyes held yours in an unrelenting gaze.

“It’s all been arranged, princess,” he said softly, his words almost tender but laced with steel. “Your parents and mine have been discussing this for some time. They thought tonight was the perfect opportunity to make it official.”

Your heart pounded in protest, the world around you narrowing to just him and the enormity of what he was saying. “I didn’t agree to this,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “This is wrong! You don’t want this, Yoongi. You have her. And I—”

“You what?” he interrupted sharply, his eyes narrowing. “You have Taehyung?”

“No!” you snapped, shaking your head. “This isn’t about him. This is about them deciding for us. This is about tying your life to mine when you don’t even want to!”

He tilted his head slightly, his smirk returning but without any real humor. “Who says I don’t want to?”

“Yoongi—”

“Look, princess,” he cut you off, his voice soft but commanding. “We just have to act like we’re going along with this. Just pretend. Can you do that for me?”

Your breath caught, and you searched his face for some hint of his true feelings. But all you found was a calm determination that left you more uncertain than ever.

The murmur of the crowd reached you, the polite applause growing louder as you turned toward the center of the room. Yoongi extended his hand, his posture exuding confidence and charm as he guided you toward the raised platform where your parents and his waited.

The spotlight followed the two of you as you ascended albeit reluctantly, every step feeling heavier than the last. The room seemed to hush, the weight of their expectations bearing down on you.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Yoongi began smoothly, raising his glass in a toast. His voice carried easily, commanding the attention of the entire ballroom. “Tonight is a special night, not just for our families, but for me. I’m honored to announce my engagement to this incredible woman beside me, my childhood best friend, the only woman who have never left my side. I cannot live without her, and soon, I’ll never have to.”

The applause erupted, deafening and overwhelming. You felt trapped, the walls closing in as Yoongi turned to you, his smile perfectly composed for the crowd.

“Shall we make it convincing, princess?” Yoongi murmured, his voice low and unreadable, carrying a weight you couldn’t quite place. 

Before you could respond, he cupped your face with a gentleness that felt at odds with the deliberate precision in his movements. His touch was warm, grounding, yet it sent a jolt through you—a mix of dread and something far more dangerous. 

Your breath hitched. 

Never in your wildest dreams did you think Min Yoongi—the composed, untouchable Min Yoongi—would lower his head to capture your lips. Even more unthinkable was the way his kiss shattered every expectation, unraveling something deep within you. 

Yoongi kissed like a man starved. His lips moved against yours with a consuming intensity, a hunger that left no room for hesitation. It wasn’t gentle or tentative; it was deliberate, almost punishing. He took and took, claiming you with every movement of his mouth. His tongue brushed against yours, coaxing and demanding at the same time, leaving you breathless. 

His free hand cradled your face, tilting it to him as if to ensure you couldn’t escape—not that your body seemed capable of responding. Your knees felt weak, your heart thundered in your chest, and the noise of the crowd faded into an inconsequential blur. 

For a moment, there was only him. 

The crowd erupted into applause, the sound jolting you back to reality. The cheers and whistles surrounded you, the noise pressing in like a tidal wave. You blinked, realizing that your hands had gripped the fabric of his jacket, as though anchoring yourself to him. 

Yoongi pulled back slowly, his gaze locking with yours. His eyes were dark, burning with something you couldn’t decipher. His lips curled into a faint, triumphant smile, as if he knew exactly what effect he’d had on you. 

You barely had a moment to catch your breath before he took your hand in his. The velvet box you hadn’t even noticed being opened now sat empty in his other hand. And then, before you could process what was happening, there it was—a massive diamond glinting on your finger, its size almost blinding under the ballroom lights. It was familiar. How could it not when it was the same ring he won in the auction?

Why did he have this now? When was this entire fiasco prepared?

Your chest tightened as you stared at the ring, the weight of it feeling heavier than it should have. 

Yoongi raised your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, his gaze never leaving yours. To the crowd, it was the perfect picture of a devoted fiancé. But to you, it was something far more unnerving. 

“You wear it well,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. 

The applause swelled around you again, the sound nearly deafening as you tried to steady your racing thoughts. 

This wasn’t part of the story. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

But Yoongi, ever the master of control, seemed to have rewritten the script entirely. And you were left standing in the middle of his narrative, unable to tell where the performance ended and the truth began.

The evening air outside was cool and calm, a sharp contrast to the warmth and chatter of the grand party you had just left behind. As the crowd dwindled and the night settled, Yoongi offered you his arm, escorting you toward his sleek black car. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, and his dark eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than usual.

The night seemed to be endless. You were never left alone even for a moment. You wanted nothing more than to lie down and plan your next step. You had to, or else you were stuck here.

“I’m sorry I missed your speech,” you said as the car pulled away from the glowing mansion. “I’m sure it was great.”

He glanced at you, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “That’s fine. You’ll always be here to hear my next speech anyway.”

You returned his smile, but it was brittle, not quite reaching your eyes. Had your plan succeeded, this would be one of your last moments with him. You’d return to your world, leaving this Yoongi—and this universe—behind. The thought tightened something in your chest, but you pushed it aside.

“I’m sorry about the sudden engagement, princess.” His voice was soft, laced with what sounded like regret, but his eyes told a different story. “My hands were tied. Our families went behind our backs, and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

Lies. All of it.

What you didn’t know was that Yoongi had orchestrated everything. He had whispered into the right ears, pulled strings behind the scenes, and crafted a perfect storm to ensure this engagement would bind you to him. He didn’t care what the truth was, whether or not you were from this world. He cared about one thing only—keeping you by his side.

Something in him had shifted the moment he realized how easily you could slip away. The very idea of losing you—to this world, to Taehyung, to anything—was unbearable. It drove him to actions he never thought himself capable of, cruel and unapologetic. Taehyung was out of the picture now, his budding empire crushed under the weight of scandal. Yoongi had ensured that, and he felt no remorse.

What mattered was you.

You offered him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes because if what you were planning was successful, you’d return to your own world and he’d be left in this universe. Yoongi quietly offered you a champagne as the driver smoothly drove back to the mansion.

“Are we celebrating something?” you asked, eyeing the sparkling liquid.

“Just…for always, princess,” he said softly, the words carrying an undertone you couldn’t quite place.

You hesitated, but took the glass, sipping the sparkling liquid. The conversation flowed effortlessly, a dance of shared humor, mutual interests, and a surprising depth of understanding. With each exchange, you were reminded of why you had felt drawn to Yoongi in the first place. For all his intensity and mystery, he was undeniably charming, and being with him felt easy in a way you hadn’t expected.

The spirit of alcohol definitely made you forget about the ruckus that happened tonight. If he said that he didn’t have anything to do with it, who were you to question him when he was characterized in the manhwa as someone who was good?

Your conversation with him was fun. It was grounding.

Until the world began to tilt.

Dizziness crept over you, subtle at first but quickly overpowering. Your fingers loosened around the champagne flute as your head grew heavier, and before you knew it, your cheek was pressed against his shoulder.

“Yoongi…” you murmured, your voice weak as you leaned against him.

He steadied you, his hand moving to cradle your head as you slumped against his shoulder. “It’s alright,” he said softly, his voice carrying a note of finality.You tried to sit up, to stay awake, but your body refused to cooperate. Everything blurred together, and then, there was nothing.

Yoongi’s hand moved to steady you, his touch gentle as he adjusted your position so you rested more comfortably against him. He looked down at you, his expression unreadable, before shifting his gaze toward the driver.

“To the airport,” he instructed, his voice calm but firm.

The driver nodded without hesitation, changing course.

Yoongi turned his attention back to you, his jaw tightening as he studied your sleeping face. He’d heard everything earlier—the old woman’s cryptic words, your desperate plea to leave, and your determination to escape this world.

It all made sense. The nightmare that brought terrors in his heart really happened. You died because of his foolishness, because he chose someone else over you when he knew he couldn’t survive a world without you. It had been like living his worst nightmare all over again, the fear of losing someone he wasn’t ready to let go. But this time, he refused to let it happen.

He wasn’t a religious man, but your presence in this universe felt like a miracle—a second chance, no matter how strange or impossible. Whether you were the original her or not didn’t matter. You were here. You were his.

And he wouldn’t let you leave.

His gaze darkened, his grip on your hand tightening slightly.

“You’re not going anywhere, princess,” he murmured softly, more to himself than to you.

The first female lead was no longer his focus. She was gone.

Now, it was you.

And Yoongi would do whatever it took to keep you by his side—even if it meant tying you to him so tightly you could never untangle the threads.

Ok but 5am brainrot that's been on my mind for a while.

Imagine a very short lived imposter au that's mostly normal/soft au, where there was an imposter on your throne before your arrival who tried to get you hunted down but one, some people tried pleading on your behalf because you genuinely hadn't done anything but exist and two, Teyvat sorted out quickly who was the real one and oops now you're their God!

So, of course, your acolytes choose to double, triple and quadruple their worship towards you, to atone for being so willingly blinded by an imposter and to make sure your treatment is incomparably better.

Except, they quickly realize they have no idea what to do.

You see, the imposter was greedy, egotistical and borderline sadistic. They covered all the luxuries and fineries of the world, they demanded worship, and they didn't let even the most minor perceived slight go unfinished. These are the rules they're used to following.

But you, dearest you, despise the lot of it. You turn down gifts left and right (inadequate, they think, they must find a treasure beyond anything the imposter laid their hands on), you become uncomfortable in worship (their prose must be lacking, they think, they must find more exquisite language to praise your name), and you demand naught from them (you must despise them, they think, to not trust them with your desires). They must do better, they think, until one incident brings a new perspective to light.

Your servants and acolytes were always on their best behavior around you, the children were kept far away as to not accidentally incur your wrath (a shame, you wanted to dote on the dears), and an incident had yet to occur in your presence.

Until, in the middle of a banquet in your honor, a servant girl tripped and spilled the contents of her tray across the ground, a sin enough in your presence, but even worse—she spilled water onto the edge of your sleeve.

The hall went silent.

All eyes on her, the girl trembled silently on the floor, awaiting her judgement. Even just the embarrassment of a failure was a cause for execution, but to sully the Divine One's clothing? Surely she'd be tortured for a fortnight before being allowed the release of death.

But before your attendants could move to react, you took a step forward, and then another, and another, uncaring of the mess, as you made your way across the short distance to the girl, who began to silently cry from the fear.

You opened your lips, and the room winced in sympathy. Until—

"Are you alright?" You asked, offering your hand to help her up. "That looked like quite the fall."

She could only stare at your hand, lost in shock..

"It's alright," you reassured her, lips twitching up into a smile. "I don't bite."

Hesitantly, fearfully, she took your hand, allowing you to lead her back onto her feet. Were you going to shove her into her own mess and call for the guards? Were you making sure she was healthy enough to endure the torture? Were—

"Does it hurt anywhere?" You asked, eyebrows drawn in concern as you look her over.

That snapped her back to attention.

"Your—Your Grace—" she bowed her head, not daring to meet your gaze, "I apologize—I swear I—I didn't mean to—"

You cup her cheek, gently raising her gaze to your gentle expression. "I know, it was just an accident. These sorts of things happen." You release her. "Perhaps you should sit down for a while, regain your composure. Don't push yourself, okay?"

Without any further thought, you left her to her recovery, returning to your Faithful once more as the girl's friend quickly led her away and another two got to work on clearing the mess.

When the issue of your sleeve arose, you simply laughed it off. "It's just a little water, it'll be dry in no time at all."

That's right, they think, they'd once catered to the whims of an imposter. Their kind, beautiful, benevolent God now stood before them, and they would Worship in a new way to fit Their desires.

I googled define brilliant writing and it showed you 😤 omggg you're one of my favourite authors. I live for your fics on quotev and now you made a tumblr and do requests too?? 😩 Must've saved a country in my previous life for this honour. That new addition of orphic was GOOD SHIT ‼️ I saw you write for Haikyuu?? Can you please feed a desperate hoe and write some yandere! Oikawa? Only if you want to 😊 I'd love to see how you write him. Your writing is SO amazing 😭 thank you for your hardwork!

lmaooo three years later what’s up chief!!!!!!!! haha.....

i couldn’t bring myself to write canon, so here Yan!Demon!Oikawa. after three centuries. i think this is progress for me bc me getting ANYTHING done is #offbrand.

no beta we die like men 

TW: burning, death. 

word count: 2.3k 

“Not a good idea.”

“Stop being such a baby! You watch too many movies, Y/N. Nothing’s going to happen, and, if something does happen, it’ll happen to all of us, at least.” Your friend paused. “Actually, I don’t know if that’s actually that encouraging, but don’t be a wimp! It’s going to be fine.” Incredulous, you glanced around at the others present at the house party, solo cups in hands. “Ugh, if you want to be a baby, just stay up here I guess.” Wordlessly, you began to clean up the stray cups from your previous games of flip-cup and slap-cup as the rest of your friends hurried through the door, their steps fading into the basement. You sighed.

Your friends had always wanted to be more “crackhead.” They wanted more stories to tell their friends at school and some cool things to take videos of to post on their finstas. Though you’d agree to say your stories are also rather bland compared to the general college student, you really didn’t want to spice up your life with the… “demon summoning” your friends found deep online. It wasn’t like you actually believed it would work, but you’ve always been the “what is the worst-case scenario happens” type of person.

“But what if it works?” You paused your cleaning, stood up straight, and peered at the door. “Y/N, don’t be ridiculous.”. How long do these types of things take anyway? Hopefully no longer than it will take to clean the rest of the cups off the floor and to wipe the puddles of beer staining the floor.

It was the screams first. Bent over trying to reach a particularly hard cup to reach in the corner, you bumped your head against the wall in your jolt. You fell onto the floor and rubbed your hand against your head. Groaning in pain, you decided the house owners could grab this one. It must have been your friends being dramatic over nothing. You were only halfway back on your feet when another bout of screams resonated with a few ‘helps’ in the mix, nearly sending you back down to the floor, but then it fell silent. Frozen to your spot, hands squeezing the plastic in your hand, you waited with bated breath and a palpitating heart for something else. Boisterous laughter, footsteps, murmurs, anything, but there wasn’t a single sound.

The door was pretty far from you though. Tip-toeing across the floor, you put your back against the wall next to the door and held your breath so you could listen better.

“—someone upstairs?” The voices were muddled behind the door, but you could make out bits and pieces.

“No, there’s—.” It went silent again. A single set of footsteps began to thump against the stairs. Closer and closer they came until you heard them stop on the other side of the door. If you moved, whoever was on the other side of the door could—.

God, you were so dumb. What the hell were you freaking out about? The chance of this actually working was impossibly low. Your friends were just messing with you because they knew you were a big baby, so the laugh they could get out of this would be of you being terrified. You exhaled and let your shoulders fall.

“Real funny, guys!” You kicked off the wall and faced the door. “You’re not going to make me the butt of this joke! Find someone else, assholes! I’m already your maid!” You put your hands on your hips, waiting for them to emerge and complain about how you were ruining their fun, but it remained silent. “Fine, keep the act up! I’m calling my DD and leaving!” You shook your head and turned around.

“Sorry, you got us.” Your friend creaked open the door. “Just come downstairs with us, at least. Promise we won’t do anything. It was kind of shitty of us.” He was jolted forward just a bit as if he was pushed. “A-and we’re sorry!” You narrowed your eyes. “Really, we are.” You sighed.

“Fine, fine. No more puppy dog eyes.” Opening the door fully, you followed them down the stairs. “Now, what did—.”

“Ah, my Y/N. You finally show! Well, it only makes sense the star comes last.” The friend that escorted you down was now pinned to the wall by an invisible force. All the others were trembling in terror, eyes blown wide and chests heaving against the cement of the walls and floor. All of them seem to be pinned by the same thing. Some looked fine, while blood leaked from others. You took a shaky step back. “Ah ah ah, Y/N. No leaving now. Not after your friends did all this to bring me here.” Though the sweet voice spoke to you, you could not see the source.

“W-where are you?”

“Trying to hide your fear? My Y/N is so brave! You don’t need to be scared,” a moment passes, then another, “because I’m right here.” His breath blew across your ear and you jumped away, turning to see the figure of a young man where you were just standing. “This is the form you’re most likely comfortable with, right? Tried my best to make it good looking. Took some energy to make, but I’d do anything for you.” Your eyes glanced around the dimly lit room.

“So you’re a demon? Like really?”

“Really, really, my love!”

Why did this demon drag you down here? Did he simply want you to see the scene around you and intimidate you, or did he bring you down because he could not go upstairs and do anything himself? You knew nothing about this type of thing, but you noted the full circle drawn near your feet. Perhaps he was bound to the basement? If that were the case, then—. “You’re real observant, you know. It’s one of the first things that drew me to you, after all.”

“Huh?”

“But it is not only the basement. You’re almost right, though.” You furrowed your brows.

“How did you know?” He smiled. “How did you know I was thinking that? You can’t… you can’t read my mind, can you?” The demon chuckled and took a step forward. Lithe fingers lifted to play with a few locks of your hair. “W-what do you want?”

“What do I want?” He repeated. “I want what I’ve always wanted: you, and with just a little push, some whispering in your friends’ ears to try something new, they have brought me here to you. I, Oikawa, Lord of the Sixth Ring of Hell, am here to retrieve you. I have been waiting for centuries for you to be born and to grow, and finally, finally, it’s time to come home, to where you belong.” One of your friends was shifting behind him. Extended a little away from his arm was a small vial. Holy water. You did not think about it; you kept your mind centered on the demon before you.

“U-uh, what? I don’t—I don’t understand. Explain yourself to me, demon, or spew your lies somewhere else. How do I know you’re not telling me this just to take my soul or something?” Oikawa laughed.

“Lying? My love, there is plenty I want to do to you, but lying is never one. I just think it’s funny you think I don’t already own your soul. I have infinite power to see the past, the future, and to know and attain everything I desire. If I wanted to kill you, my love, I would have already, along with your cattle of friends, but I wanted to be nice. I didn’t want your first impression of me to be terror, and I still don’t. I wouldn’t want my partner to be scared of me. Well, not too scared. Don’t want a cowering puppy all the time. I want you to love me as I love you.” He extended his hand. “Just come with me, my love.” Your eyes centered on the fingers.

“To where?”

“I think you know the answer to that, my love,” he whispered.

“Do you want to know what I think? I think you should go back to hell, monster.” With a swing of their arm, the crescent of water descended onto the demon and landed with a distinct sizz. You did not waste any time pushing past and sprinting up the stairs, ignoring the anchor of fear that fell in you with the shrill, furious scream that followed. You managed to leap back to the first floor, and turned around to see your friends’ despair the moment the foundation of the stairs burned, forcing them back to the ground.

You scrambled to your feet, inching just far enough to be able to view the basement. The stairs were still aflame, your friends' bodies moving still, but in such obvious pain. At where the last step usually was stood Oikawa, blood and hot gashes burning through parts of his clothes and one side of his face. Head tilted slightly down; his eyes burned hotter than the fire around him. You could see the tautness of his body, his fists tightening at his side. Oh, he’s pissed. Oikawa’s lips fell into a dangerous snarl.

“I wanted to be nice, Y/N! I didn’t want to be the one to have to kill your friends and forcibly take you with me, but you’re leaving me no choice! If you want me to be a monster, I can oblige.” Ever so slowly, he rose his hand and snapped.

Screams of agony, pain pierced the air, your soul, and you ran, covering your ears with frantic hands. You touched the doorknob to the outside, but it burned your skin. Recoiling, your adrenaline and fear pushed you to the nearby window, but the frame burned you as well.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Your head jolted around. The stairs to the second floor were the only things left. Their screams did not cease.

“Y/N,” his voice resounded, but you can’t see him. “You did this! I wanted to do this peacefully, but you did this to them! Can you hear them, screaming in horrible, horrible pain? Burning until they are nothing but crisp bones.” While he spoke, you sprinted up the stairs into the farthest bedroom. With no other option, you hopped into the closet and fell to the floor, using a shirt to breathe into so your breaths were not so loud. You could still hear them; you choked out a sob. “Do you think I’ll stop? I’ll burn this whole house down, my love!” Oikawa’s voice seemed like it was coming from a body again.

Footsteps took their time up the stairs. Sinking your teeth into your lip, you bit so hard you tasted the metallic blood beneath. “Centuries and centuries have passed. Do you think that I would let anything get in my way? I just wanted you to be able to see my love and want to feel the same, but… I don’t mind forcing you.” His voice came closer and closer. “Oh? Are you hiding from me? You’re hiding from your future husband? Ah, you’re a little brat, but I’ll indulge you.” Oikawa inhaled. “Come out come out wherever you are.” He did not even bother to check the other rooms to act like he didn’t already know.

You looked around the little space around you. Was there nothing you could do? Your movements stopped when the door to the room was seemingly kicked open. “I can hear your thoughts. My poor baby is so scared. Don’t be scared! I’ll never do anything to hurt you. We’re going to be married. You’ll forget about all this, and you’ll be properly mine for eternity. If you come out for me, I promise I won’t be mad.” He paused. “Actually, I change my mind.” Violently, the door opened and light flooded into the closet. He gripped your legs and forcibly pulled you out. Oikawa was quick to trap you under his weight. “There you are.”

“P-please don’t—.”

“Sh sh sh, it’s alright, my love. Everything is alright,” he said as screams came muffled through the floor. His chest connected with your own, hands petting your hair, your skin. “You’ll have nothing to worry about. You’ll have everything you want and more. I love you so much, and you’ll come to love me too. One way or another,” he said and then slanted his lips onto yours once, twice, three times. Each one’s passion growing exponentially as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, suffocating and overpowering you. His hands tangled in your hair to pull you closer, to take in more. “Let’s go home.”

Last night, there was a fire on Fifth Street. The owners of the house were not home, but their two kids had five friends over that night. When the neighbors smelled and saw the flames from the house late in the night, they said it seemed that the entirety of the first floor was engulfed in flame. By the time the fire department arrived, the house’s foundation was completely eradicated. Their statement says that they “have never seen a fire of this degree. It is nothing like an electrical or gas fire.” They have not yet determined the source of the fire.

However, in tragic news, of the seven people present, six of their bodies have all been found in the basement under the rubble. The last body of Y/N L/N has not been discovered, but they remain missing and unseen by family or friends. It is said that they were present in the house and there were no accounts of them leaving from the person who was supposed to be their designated driver for the night. Both the fire department and police are looking into the source of the fire and the missing person.

lmaooo three years later what’s up chief!!!!!!!! haha.....

i couldn’t bring myself to write canon, so here Yan!Demon!Oikawa. after three centuries. i think this is progress for me bc me getting ANYTHING done is #offbrand.

no beta we die like men 

TW: burning, death. 

word count: 2.3k 

“Not a good idea.”

“Stop being such a baby! You watch too many movies, Y/N. Nothing’s going to happen, and, if something does happen, it’ll happen to all of us, at least.” Your friend paused. “Actually, I don’t know if that’s actually that encouraging, but don’t be a wimp! It’s going to be fine.” Incredulous, you glanced around at the others present at the house party, solo cups in hands. “Ugh, if you want to be a baby, just stay up here I guess.” Wordlessly, you began to clean up the stray cups from your previous games of flip-cup and slap-cup as the rest of your friends hurried through the door, their steps fading into the basement. You sighed.

Your friends had always wanted to be more “crackhead.” They wanted more stories to tell their friends at school and some cool things to take videos of to post on their finstas. Though you’d agree to say your stories are also rather bland compared to the general college student, you really didn’t want to spice up your life with the… “demon summoning” your friends found deep online. It wasn’t like you actually believed it would work, but you’ve always been the “what is the worst-case scenario happens” type of person.

“But what if it works?” You paused your cleaning, stood up straight, and peered at the door. “Y/N, don’t be ridiculous.”. How long do these types of things take anyway? Hopefully no longer than it will take to clean the rest of the cups off the floor and to wipe the puddles of beer staining the floor.

It was the screams first. Bent over trying to reach a particularly hard cup to reach in the corner, you bumped your head against the wall in your jolt. You fell onto the floor and rubbed your hand against your head. Groaning in pain, you decided the house owners could grab this one. It must have been your friends being dramatic over nothing. You were only halfway back on your feet when another bout of screams resonated with a few ‘helps’ in the mix, nearly sending you back down to the floor, but then it fell silent. Frozen to your spot, hands squeezing the plastic in your hand, you waited with bated breath and a palpitating heart for something else. Boisterous laughter, footsteps, murmurs, anything, but there wasn’t a single sound.

The door was pretty far from you though. Tip-toeing across the floor, you put your back against the wall next to the door and held your breath so you could listen better.

“—someone upstairs?” The voices were muddled behind the door, but you could make out bits and pieces.

“No, there’s—.” It went silent again. A single set of footsteps began to thump against the stairs. Closer and closer they came until you heard them stop on the other side of the door. If you moved, whoever was on the other side of the door could—.

God, you were so dumb. What the hell were you freaking out about? The chance of this actually working was impossibly low. Your friends were just messing with you because they knew you were a big baby, so the laugh they could get out of this would be of you being terrified. You exhaled and let your shoulders fall.

“Real funny, guys!” You kicked off the wall and faced the door. “You’re not going to make me the butt of this joke! Find someone else, assholes! I’m already your maid!” You put your hands on your hips, waiting for them to emerge and complain about how you were ruining their fun, but it remained silent. “Fine, keep the act up! I’m calling my DD and leaving!” You shook your head and turned around.

“Sorry, you got us.” Your friend creaked open the door. “Just come downstairs with us, at least. Promise we won’t do anything. It was kind of shitty of us.” He was jolted forward just a bit as if he was pushed. “A-and we’re sorry!” You narrowed your eyes. “Really, we are.” You sighed.

“Fine, fine. No more puppy dog eyes.” Opening the door fully, you followed them down the stairs. “Now, what did—.”

“Ah, my Y/N. You finally show! Well, it only makes sense the star comes last.” The friend that escorted you down was now pinned to the wall by an invisible force. All the others were trembling in terror, eyes blown wide and chests heaving against the cement of the walls and floor. All of them seem to be pinned by the same thing. Some looked fine, while blood leaked from others. You took a shaky step back. “Ah ah ah, Y/N. No leaving now. Not after your friends did all this to bring me here.” Though the sweet voice spoke to you, you could not see the source.

“W-where are you?”

“Trying to hide your fear? My Y/N is so brave! You don’t need to be scared,” a moment passes, then another, “because I’m right here.” His breath blew across your ear and you jumped away, turning to see the figure of a young man where you were just standing. “This is the form you’re most likely comfortable with, right? Tried my best to make it good looking. Took some energy to make, but I’d do anything for you.” Your eyes glanced around the dimly lit room.

“So you’re a demon? Like really?”

“Really, really, my love!”

Why did this demon drag you down here? Did he simply want you to see the scene around you and intimidate you, or did he bring you down because he could not go upstairs and do anything himself? You knew nothing about this type of thing, but you noted the full circle drawn near your feet. Perhaps he was bound to the basement? If that were the case, then—. “You’re real observant, you know. It’s one of the first things that drew me to you, after all.”

“Huh?”

“But it is not only the basement. You’re almost right, though.” You furrowed your brows.

“How did you know?” He smiled. “How did you know I was thinking that? You can’t… you can’t read my mind, can you?” The demon chuckled and took a step forward. Lithe fingers lifted to play with a few locks of your hair. “W-what do you want?”

“What do I want?” He repeated. “I want what I’ve always wanted: you, and with just a little push, some whispering in your friends’ ears to try something new, they have brought me here to you. I, Oikawa, Lord of the Sixth Ring of Hell, am here to retrieve you. I have been waiting for centuries for you to be born and to grow, and finally, finally, it’s time to come home, to where you belong.” One of your friends was shifting behind him. Extended a little away from his arm was a small vial. Holy water. You did not think about it; you kept your mind centered on the demon before you.

“U-uh, what? I don’t—I don’t understand. Explain yourself to me, demon, or spew your lies somewhere else. How do I know you’re not telling me this just to take my soul or something?” Oikawa laughed.

“Lying? My love, there is plenty I want to do to you, but lying is never one. I just think it’s funny you think I don’t already own your soul. I have infinite power to see the past, the future, and to know and attain everything I desire. If I wanted to kill you, my love, I would have already, along with your cattle of friends, but I wanted to be nice. I didn’t want your first impression of me to be terror, and I still don’t. I wouldn’t want my partner to be scared of me. Well, not too scared. Don’t want a cowering puppy all the time. I want you to love me as I love you.” He extended his hand. “Just come with me, my love.” Your eyes centered on the fingers.

“To where?”

“I think you know the answer to that, my love,” he whispered.

“Do you want to know what I think? I think you should go back to hell, monster.” With a swing of their arm, the crescent of water descended onto the demon and landed with a distinct sizz. You did not waste any time pushing past and sprinting up the stairs, ignoring the anchor of fear that fell in you with the shrill, furious scream that followed. You managed to leap back to the first floor, and turned around to see your friends’ despair the moment the foundation of the stairs burned, forcing them back to the ground.

You scrambled to your feet, inching just far enough to be able to view the basement. The stairs were still aflame, your friends' bodies moving still, but in such obvious pain. At where the last step usually was stood Oikawa, blood and hot gashes burning through parts of his clothes and one side of his face. Head tilted slightly down; his eyes burned hotter than the fire around him. You could see the tautness of his body, his fists tightening at his side. Oh, he’s pissed. Oikawa’s lips fell into a dangerous snarl.

“I wanted to be nice, Y/N! I didn’t want to be the one to have to kill your friends and forcibly take you with me, but you’re leaving me no choice! If you want me to be a monster, I can oblige.” Ever so slowly, he rose his hand and snapped.

Screams of agony, pain pierced the air, your soul, and you ran, covering your ears with frantic hands. You touched the doorknob to the outside, but it burned your skin. Recoiling, your adrenaline and fear pushed you to the nearby window, but the frame burned you as well.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Your head jolted around. The stairs to the second floor were the only things left. Their screams did not cease.

“Y/N,” his voice resounded, but you can’t see him. “You did this! I wanted to do this peacefully, but you did this to them! Can you hear them, screaming in horrible, horrible pain? Burning until they are nothing but crisp bones.” While he spoke, you sprinted up the stairs into the farthest bedroom. With no other option, you hopped into the closet and fell to the floor, using a shirt to breathe into so your breaths were not so loud. You could still hear them; you choked out a sob. “Do you think I’ll stop? I’ll burn this whole house down, my love!” Oikawa’s voice seemed like it was coming from a body again.

Footsteps took their time up the stairs. Sinking your teeth into your lip, you bit so hard you tasted the metallic blood beneath. “Centuries and centuries have passed. Do you think that I would let anything get in my way? I just wanted you to be able to see my love and want to feel the same, but… I don’t mind forcing you.” His voice came closer and closer. “Oh? Are you hiding from me? You’re hiding from your future husband? Ah, you’re a little brat, but I’ll indulge you.” Oikawa inhaled. “Come out come out wherever you are.” He did not even bother to check the other rooms to act like he didn’t already know.

You looked around the little space around you. Was there nothing you could do? Your movements stopped when the door to the room was seemingly kicked open. “I can hear your thoughts. My poor baby is so scared. Don’t be scared! I’ll never do anything to hurt you. We’re going to be married. You’ll forget about all this, and you’ll be properly mine for eternity. If you come out for me, I promise I won’t be mad.” He paused. “Actually, I change my mind.” Violently, the door opened and light flooded into the closet. He gripped your legs and forcibly pulled you out. Oikawa was quick to trap you under his weight. “There you are.”

“P-please don’t—.”

“Sh sh sh, it’s alright, my love. Everything is alright,” he said as screams came muffled through the floor. His chest connected with your own, hands petting your hair, your skin. “You’ll have nothing to worry about. You’ll have everything you want and more. I love you so much, and you’ll come to love me too. One way or another,” he said and then slanted his lips onto yours once, twice, three times. Each one’s passion growing exponentially as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, suffocating and overpowering you. His hands tangled in your hair to pull you closer, to take in more. “Let’s go home.”

Last night, there was a fire on Fifth Street. The owners of the house were not home, but their two kids had five friends over that night. When the neighbors smelled and saw the flames from the house late in the night, they said it seemed that the entirety of the first floor was engulfed in flame. By the time the fire department arrived, the house’s foundation was completely eradicated. Their statement says that they “have never seen a fire of this degree. It is nothing like an electrical or gas fire.” They have not yet determined the source of the fire.

However, in tragic news, of the seven people present, six of their bodies have all been found in the basement under the rubble. The last body of Y/N L/N has not been discovered, but they remain missing and unseen by family or friends. It is said that they were present in the house and there were no accounts of them leaving from the person who was supposed to be their designated driver for the night. Both the fire department and police are looking into the source of the fire and the missing person.

Yandere Kyoya.

It’s a well established fact that Kyoya acts much colder when he really is. This fact remains true when he becomes yandere for you. He’ll try to tell himself (and other yanderes as well) that you’re just a darling, nothing special. He insists that he only wishes to have you for personal use, nothing else.

But this just isn’t true.

In reality, Kyoya dreams of both love and control. Yes, he does want to control just about every detail of your life…but only if you want him to. To him, control is an expression of love! And he loves you so much…he only wishes for you to love him back. Kyoya wants you to love him, to choose him, to want him above all others.

Meeting You: He meets you at a fancy function, one his entire family has to attend. While he doesn’t complain about it, Kyoya just isn’t feeling this party. it’s the same all of the others. Boring, bland, full of useless small talk (but really good food so he can deal). Maybe you’re working there as a waitress or something or maybe you’re a guest as well. But whoever you may be, Kyoya is polite (if not a little cold) as he always is. He doesn’t let on anything about you but for some reason…he takes a special notice of you.

It’s something he brushes away…until he meets you once again.

The party is long over and forgotten but that feeling is still there. It’s a warm, soft feeling that makes him want to strike up a conversation…and lucky for him, just that happens. You remember him too (which makes him so happy for some reason) and you start talking for him. And just like, something has started. Something Kyoya is sure will be wonderful. He walks away with your phone number in hand, already planning out everything. Yes, this is going to be wonderful.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

Studying You: Kyoya does not stalk. But he does study.

The second he realizes that he has feelings for you, he studies you like you’re his university major and he’s got an exam coming up. Not because he’s creepy, but because of a very simple reason:

If you’re going to be his darling then he has to know everything.

Every detail is important. He needs to know your history, your family, your interests, plans for the future, everything. Oh, go ahead and call hi crazy but it’s all for a good reason! It’s not too hard to study you because you’re already so open with him. He knows your favorite foods, what books you read, your hopes and dreams and everything you love and hate. And what’s more is that Kyoya loves very second of studying you.

He loves finding out something interesting, something he didn’t expect about you. But he likes the things that he does expect too, smiling as he thinks “that’s so much like her.” He loves finding out the things that nobody else on earth knows. It’s interesting, being the one person who knows you better then anyone else…and you don’t even know that.

“Hmm…what an interesting woman.”

Taking Control: Once he’s through “studying” Kyoya will begin to feel confident enough to begin his plan. You’re already friends so it’s not too hard to insert himself further into your life. Just two friends growing closer, right?

Only…it’s so much more then that.

He’ll start small. Encouraging better habits in order to improve your life (he’s just helping. Don’t friends help one another?). He wants you to eat better, live better, work harder, all of that. He starts spending more and more time with you, using his extensive knowledge of, well, everything, in order to climb to the top of your friend list. And yes, he has a “friend list.” In fact, he has a list of everyone in your life. Who you are with the most, who he likes and doesn’t like, who can stay…and who he is going to get rid of.

Not by killing! Kyoya’s not that type of yandere!

Just by…suggesting things. The truth is, Kyoya is open to deceiving you and others as well. It isn’t hard for him to twist words and situations in order to cause problems, problems that he most definitely encourages. So, you lose a few friends, what’s the big deal? Those people weren’t good enough for you anyway.

That’s all Kyoya wants for you: good things. And he’ll do whatever it takes to get you just that. The more your friendship grows, the deeper Kyoya’s control becomes. You won’t even realize it but your “dear friend” can get you to do just about anything. Of course, he’ll never take it too far. Kyoya will try not to cross any lines and to respect your boundaries. But he sees no problem is a suggestion or two here, a little twist, and the like…as long as it’s for your own good.

“Anything for her…”

Romance: Once the “friends” stage of his plan is over,, Kyoya will begin to romance you. He starts by spending time with you privately, just the two of you so he can get a little closer. He’ll turn on the charm and give you the perfect gifts. Whenever you say you wish yu had something to give him, he’ll insist that you don’t have to.

“I just thought it would make you happy.”

By now, he’s certain that you have feelings for him. After all, he’s the friend that you spend the most time with! He’s noticed the way you look at him, the way you blush when he comes close and compliments you…your feelings are very obvious and very cute. And they are very much returned. Which means that it’s time for your first date. It’s the date he’s been planning since the beginning and secretly…he’s excited!

He’ll choose a good restaurant (not too expensive but not too cheap with food that caters to both your personal tastes) and invite you out. His heart is racing when he does but it’s back flipping in his chest when you say those wonderful words:

“I’d love to, Kyoya.”

The first date is perfect. He made sure of it, fixing every little detail in order to make it all just right. So of course you agree to a second date and after that…everything is just the way he wanted it to be. Kyoya is the man you’ve always dreamed of so it isn’t hard getting you under his spell. You’re so enamored with Kyoya that you won’t question any of his yandere tendencies, you might not even notice them at all…

Which is simply perfect in his mind.

“It’s all going perfectly.”

Your Relationship: It’s such a good one.

He’s surprisingly loving, though he’ll still seem cool in front of others. But the truth is, Kyoya is a sweetheart and he wants you to be happy…preferably with him. So he’ll make the best moves possible in order to keep you at his side.

He’s loving, but never smothering. He’s affectionate, but never to the point where it makes you uncomfortable. He supports you in everything that you do, because Kyoya genuinely wants you to succeed and for your dreams to come true.

Like I said, he’s charming. Kyoya thinks you’re the most lovely creature on the planet-beautiful, intelligent, witty, and talented. In his eye, there’s nothing bad about you. Even your flaws are lovable! The more your relationship continues, the more he tries to make you happy…and the more his yandere side grows as well. You’ll start spending more time with him. In fact, you’re with Kyoya more then anyone else! He’ll install a tracker in your phone and laptop, just so he can keep an eye on you when you’re apart. Kyoya has a very detailed plan of your relationship:

Friendship. He’s going to be your best friend. Here, he’ll start molding your lives together very slowly. Gets to know you more as a person and builds the foundation of your relationship.

Dating/High School. A serious relationship without too much pressure. Focuses on getting to know you further and cementing his place by your side. Introduces you formally to the club but not to his family.

Dating/University. Preferably, you go to the same school or at least schools that are close to one another. But he’ll settle for long distance if that’s what it takes. You’re introduced to his brothers and the relationship takes a more serious turn.

Engagement/Moving into together. This is what part three was all about: making sure part four was a success. He’ll propose on the anniversary of the day you met and is over joyed when you say yes. Kyoya doesn’t want to get married right away and instead moves into an apartment with you. You’re finally introduced to his entire family.

Marriage/The Future.  Kyoya is excited to finally call you his wife. His happy ending is marrying you, taking over his father’s company, and just…living. He doesn’t need much to be happy but he definitely needs you.

“I just love you so much, Y/N…”

Punishments: This is probably the biggest yandere thing that Kyoya is capable of doing. Whenever you have a fight or he fears that things are going badly…he’ll manufacturer a situation that brings you back to his side.

He knows that it’s wrong. He just doesn’t care. Kyoya needs you desperately and if this is what t takes…then so be it. He needs it to be upsetting but believable. Perhaps something frightening but never life threatening. So maybe a minor car accident that has you running into his hospital room. You’re in tears because he could have gotten seriously hurt! He could have died! And the last thing you would have done was argue!

“It’s alright, Y/N. I’m alright…”

Or perhaps something more emotional, something that makes you think that he needs your love and support. Like him having problems with his family or being stressed out from school…and, well, you’re the only one he can truly open up to…so you have to be there for him! Right?

“Thanks, Y/N.”

This behavior isn’t something that he’s proud of but he argues that it’s something that must be done on a rare occasion.

“Let’s not fight anymore.”

Little Things:

Kyoya shows you off in a very quiet way. He makes no secret of his pride and love for you, though it still comes off in a cold manor. He’s always so pleased to be out with you, your hand in his as you walk about town.

“Oh, look at you! Such a cute couple!”

“Thank you. But I believe she’s the cute one here.”

That being said, he’s so proud of you and supports you 24/7. Do you love art? Here’s some paints and pencils and all that. Go nuts. Want to be a doctor? That’s great! Here’s some good textbooks and medical journals to read. Dream of traveling the world? Let him help you plan it out, he wants your dream to come true.

“Anything for my darling, of course.”

He’s a somewhat delusional yandere, solely because of this one thing: he tends to put you on a bit of a pedestal. It’s not even something he realizes that he’s doing. But mostly, he’s a possessive and jealous type of yandere.

“I just love you so much…is that wrong?”

He’s practically already planning your wedding.  Of course, you’ll plan it together when the time comes but he already has so many ideas. It’s a rather beautiful ceremony (I think he wants a Winter wedding) and it’ll be the happiest day of his life.

“It’s everything I’ve been dreaming of.”

Kyoya’s a little nervous about kids though. For one thing, he’d like a small family. One or two kids is perfectly fine for him thank you. But for the other thing…he’s worried he won’t be much of a father. He doesn’t think that he’ll be a bad parent, just maybe not a great one.

“You really think I’ll do okay?”

In reality, he’s a pretty great dad. Loves any children you have, supports them no matter what. None of his children will be yandere but I think that they might grow up to notice that their dad is just a little bit intense…

“What are you talking about? Crazy kids…”

He’s really not that bad a yandere. All things considering, he’s rather tame. He won’t hurt you or anyone else. Murder is off of the table. But he does constantly control you and, as tame as he is, that’s still a yandere tendency. Still, he has the habit of comparing himself to the other OHSHC yanderes (especially Honey, who’s the worst of the bunch) and thinking…

“No, I’m not that bad. Not really.”

Yes you are, Kyoya. Like I said, he controls everything. You won’t ever realize how much or your life he controls but if you do…you’ll quickly brush it away. After all, everything Kyoya does, he does because he loves you!

“Of course, darling.”

So you’ll often find yourself defending him to others that have noticed his behavior. You’ll ignore them, deciding that they are the same as the people who call him cold. They simply don’t understand him like you do.

“It doesn’t bother me. You’re understanding is all that I need.”

Kyoya isn’t big on pet names at first. But when you notice that you’re listed as “darling” in his phone and mention how sweet you think that is, he’ll start calling you it verbally. Secretly, he’s always done so in his head. But now he does so in private as well.

“If it makes you happy, darling.”

He wants to get a cat with you. Kyoya is so excited at the idea of a little fluffy baby and will spoil that thing. Buying it the best food, the best toys, getting it one of those massive cat scratch castle things (of course, it prefers to play in the box the damn thing came in). It’s your child before you, you know, have children.

“Here, kitty, kitty…”

I think Kyoya is the kind of yandere who easily wins over his darling. It’s not hard at all and it’s even easier to keep you by his side. The fella can play you like a violin and you don’t even realize it. No one really does. He’s the kind of yandere that is able to fool everyone into thinking that he’s perfectly normal. Mostly because he’s able to charm people so well. Your friends, your families, everyone except for the host club thinks he’s nothing sort of perfection.

“Well, I wouldn’t call myself perfect. I’m still striving for a lot of things.”

Speaking of the club, they definitely help out. Or, they at least try to. They’ll get too involved in your relationship at times but most of it actually works. When one of their ridiculous ideas devolves, Kyoya will calmly slip away with you…which is what he wanted in the first place.

“Let’s get out of here…they’ll be like this for a while.”

Of course, upon hearing this, Tamaki will take credit for everything.

“You’re welcome.”

“Sigh…thank you…I guess.”

Isn’t above making you feel guilty by buying you expensive gifts. Nothing too crazy like a car or something, just things that are a little bit pricey. He’s not trying to guilt you into what he wants but if that happens to happen…well, who is he to complain?

“Never look a gift horse in the mouth.”

He loves lazy days with you. Kyoya never wants you to leave his bed in the morning and enjoys the quiet days he has with you. He’ll get your favorite take out and binge watch shows with you, whatever you want to watch!

“How about this one, darling?”

Of all the OHSHC yanderes, Kyoya is the best one to have (along with Haruhi and Mori). He’ll treat you so sweetly…as long as you do exactly as he says. And that’s not so hard, is it? After all, he’s only trying to take care of you…is that really so bad?

No. No it’s not. Nothing can be bad…

“When you do it for the one you love.”

(Thank you to the requester!)

I dunno if its okay to do dis but can I request the same prompt did u know i can hold the world but this time with scaramouche childe kazuha and diluc tyty! 👀💜

— ᴅɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ʜᴀɴᴅs﹖[2] ♡

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜,, scaramouche, childe, kazuha, diluc x gn! reader.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨,, a bit mean scaramouche hshhs, pet names (my love, just once.)

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚,, i hope you like this part 2<3 thank you for requesting!

After this unexpected gesture of yours, confusion takes hold of Scaramouche, quickly being replaced by annoyance, although those slightly pink cheeks could not be easily covered.

Just by looking at his grim face you think you're going to receive a hit from him, so it doesn't take long for you to remove your hands from his face and look away as if nothing had happened.

“That's it?” the boy asks disappointedly after a few seconds, causing a questioning expression on your face. Wait, was he expecting anything else?

“Yes... that's it... I guess?” you answer doubtfully, raising an eyebrow. He lets out an annoyed "tsk".

“Don't you know that you must demonstrate after speaking? Seems like I expected so much from you.” Scaramouche crosses his arms with a special shine in his eyes. He wasn't really upset, he just wanted to tease you for a bit. It's the least you deserve for making him blush, right?

“And how do you want me to demonstrate it?” you cross your arms too, obviously you're not going to let him play with you like that.

“How could I know, shouldn't YOU be the one thinking about that, idiot?” He sighs, looking at you closely. A narcissistic smile appears on his lips as his mind begins to figure out how you could really show it to him. “I'll give you a few hints, since you seem to have a hard time thinking for yourself— obey all my orders from now on.”

Well, as if you didn't already. He is your superior, so it wouldn't be very difficult to please him. “And? What's your first order?”

He smirks. “Get on your knees and repeat what I am to you. It's not very difficult, is it?”

Yes, this little mean boy loves having you at his feet, loves when you tell him how much he means to you. It gives him that feeling of superiority that characterizes him so much, so when you are the one who feed his ego... you may get the odd surprise.

“Oh?” Childe cocks his head, not taking your words seriously. “While you have the world in your hands, I'll be conquering it, so-” his words are interrupted as you cup his cheeks gently, smiling at him innocently.

That gesture forces him to lean slightly towards you due to the difference in height, your faces separated by a few inches now. His eyes widen fully understanding what you really meant, his cheeks getting redder and redder, you can even feel his accelerated breathing against you. He only manages to utter a few shaky words. “S-so... we were talking about two completely different things, huh?”

Please, in moments like this it seems that you have him completely dominated. Affectionate things are never expected from you, and when you show them to him, all you do is leave him nervous and all flushed.

But it doesn't take long for him to regain his composure. He clears his throat, pulling away from your grip. One of his hands rests on your head, and his slender fingers plunge into your hair, making you look only at him.

“Then I'll have to conquer you too. And trust me, I'll take over the competition in no time.” he chuckled, withdrawing his hand from you and continuing on his way as if nothing had happened just now.

After saying that your hands gently catch Kazuha's cheeks, who was sitting in front of you. Of course, he quickly understood what you were talking about.

He was a little flushed, but nothing he couldn't control, and he accompanied his calm face with a little smile. “You do know how to make my day, right, y/n?”

You seem so cute to him when you dedicate him that kind of detail. His heart melts simply looking at your sincere expression. “I'm not telling you this to make your day. I really mean it.” you clarify.

His hands rest on yours, taking them gently. “I know. I've known it for a long time— you are easy to read for me, clear and pure as the night breeze.”

If it were up to him, he would make a poem for each gesture you make. Everything in you is a precious art that Kazuha never wants to forget.

He places a soft kiss on your knuckles, his soft crimson gaze didn't leave your eyes for a moment. He laughed a little when he saw your own blush.

“Come, get closer to me. I would like to recite you some poems that I composed thinking of you. There are a few, and more are in the works. And still, I will never be satisfied— you are too perfect to be captured in just a few lines, you know?”

He leaned over the bar resting his hands on its wood, which was what separated you both, when you cupped his cheeks between your own hands. It was fortunate that there was no one in the tavern yet, so you could enjoy more of him and his soft side when you are in "private".

He got exactly what you wanted to say but... was that true or was he getting too excited about nothing? You could see it in his eyes, as doubt took control of all the features of his slightly flushed face. “It's totally true, Diluc.”

“Oh, y/n...” he cooed softly. He closed his eyes more calmly, letting himself be carried away by the warmth that your touch brought, sighing as he melted into the feeling of knowing how much you really loved him.

He loved you too, he needed you, and it was killing him to have you so close and not do anything about it. With almost agonizing slowness for both of you, he moved closer and closer to your lips.

And bang! The first customer walks through the door, causing the two of you to abruptly separate and look away, although you could see out of the corner of your eye how flushed Diluc was.

He looked back at you briefly before putting attention on the person who was now approaching the bar next to you. He spoke low enough that only you would hear his words. “Next time I'll make sure we are not getting interrupted... my love, I'm sorry.”

Part 1:

itzhona

itzhona

Zhona-san, Zhona-san! I've just thought of a cute request and I think you have your requests open? 😊 can I request Zhongli, Xiao, Albedo, Ve

HII HAPPY 1K !! scaramouche + aconite + hurt/comfort >:)) all my faves in one req >:)))))

petals of resentment

tw/cw - mentions of blood, illness, angst.

a/n - HI WREN!! thank you, i hope you enjoy (even if the comfort is vv minimal oops that’s what you get for choosing scaramouche)

every word and short breath released through the cracks of your lips instilled a feeling of irritation.

the balladeer, one of great power and feared by most, was the root of your aggravation. years of working together and you still couldn’t stand the sight of the cocky twitch of his lips nor the condescending look he held you within. even the teasing lilt in his voice he seemingly carried whenever around you had the itch under your skin worsening with every interaction, until you were left with fingers clawing at your throat in hopes to relieve the tension.

it wasn’t until your chest felt tight and a lone petal fluttered to the palm of your hand from a single cough did you realize that, perhaps your irritation wasn’t directed solely to the man himself.

you stared for several quiet moments, at the shades of iris from an aconite flower cradled within your grasp. ironic if you did say so yourself, especially considering how your thoughts seemed to head straight to the irises baring a similar color. you grit your teeth at the image, crumbling the lone petal before throwing it towards the ground.

you did your best to ignore the lumps in your throat as time passed, which only seemed to worsen as the weeks went on. you completed your duties as told, went on missions when sent, and spent late nights completing paperwork when necessary. no one would ever grow aware of the pile of petals hidden within the palms of your hands.

and yet, all that effort, only for it to go to waste each time the sixth harbinger came into view.

it only fueled the resentment you held towards his figure. why was it him that had your chest tightening each time he surprised you with his presence? the cruel smirk you wished to wipe away that had a pressure build up in your throat? the tone of his voice, the fingers picking at your pride, things you wished you’d never let get the best of you that caused you to excuse yourself, until you were left to hack into your hands flowers that would create frustrated tears spilling down your cheeks.

why was it him?

“this is quite pathetic, even for you.” scaramouche, the very man you had tried to avoid, peered down at you, your figure having collapsed against the wall from the intensity of the coughs. the glare sent to him from his choice of words should’ve been enough to have anyone cower under the gaze, but it only left him with an expression that bore no smile and no mischievous glint.

“if you want to see pathetic, take a look in the river.” you tried to push yourself from the ground, only to feel the pressure build up once more when his fingers briefly touched the skin of your arm. more tears escaped down the dips of your face, half because of the thorns clawing up your throat and half because of the way his warmth, despite his cold nature, lingered.

he crouched down beside you, picking up the flower you previously let out. gently, he rolled the stem between his fingers, flicking his gaze towards you. perhaps it was your vulnerable state that caused the smile and small scoff to fill the silence of the room, “who were you stupid enough to fall in love with?”

“i don’t know.”

“you don’t know?” he raised his eyebrow at the spat of your words, continuing to smile in a way that felt as if he were making fun of the way you allowed yourself such a disease to befall upon you, and you didn’t even know the roots.

“can you shut up for just once in your life?” you grumbled, erupting another laugh from his throat. it quickly died down however when you spilled more blood onto the ground near his feet, and trembling fingers reached up to wipe the warm crimson staining the appendages of your lips.

“the tsarista can’t afford to lose another harbinger,” this time he spoke quietly, with no teasing lilt. even his gaze, set heavily on the pile of flowers by your own figure seemed to be void of the emotions you were so used to seeing, “you should get the surgery.”

“why do you all of a sudden care?” you croaked out.

pools of iris met your own, and his next words had you fighting back another urge to cough, “i don’t.”

you scoffed, trying to ignore the squeezing of your heart and the pressure begging to be released. trying to look past the gaze he was giving you, which was far too similar to concern despite his words. ‘don’t look at me like that’ you thought, for the small semblance of warmth flickering in the hollow space of your ribcage should’ve burned like the wrath of his anger.

“then let me die in peace.”

menu. pomegranate mousse cake.

Not Enough Anymore

warnings: slightly angst, jealousy, cursing, kissing (may contain spelling errors, I’m not a native)

summary: you found yourself desperate for Cheongsan’s love. You wanted to kiss him, touch him, hold him, declare your feelings for him. However, you decided to keep everything inside of you, thinking that it would be better than being rejected… until that day when the worst happened and Cheongsan’s best friend, Gyeongsu, found out about it.

____________

Being Lee Cheongsan’s friend was just not enough anymore.

That feeling was growing inside you more and more each day and you knew you shouldn’t feel this way. You shouldn’t love someone who definitely was incapable of seeing you romantically.

Cheongsan loves Onjo. Cheongsan loves Onjo. Cheongsan loves Onjo. You have been trying to repeat this sentence in your own mind as a mantra for eight months already.

It all started when you moved into the same building as Lee Cheongsan and Nam Onjo. And you soon found out that you three attended the same school as well. You just wanted distance from him, this platonic feeling would get you nowhere, but Onjo and him ending up becoming close to you and eventually your best friends.

The first contact you had with Cheongsan was when you were coming back from the convenience store and accidentally dropped everything because of your father messages on your phone about you being late. Cheong San was kind, he saw the mess on the floor in the hallway and offered his help, picking up the things for you.

Since you were in a hurry, you both didn’t exchange many words.

“Thank you!” you shouted without looking at him and ran off quickly, almost tripping over your own feet pathetically. What a shame!

Days later, Cheong San met you again since you were classmates. At first, he didn’t seem to recognize your face, but he soon figure it out when he heard Onjo introducing you as her new neighbor.

Yeah, you were supposed to be friends, but it all felt like living a love triangle. It was sad you couldn’t control yourself from staring at Cheongsan everytime he was distracted with something else.

You found yourself desperate for Cheongsan’s love. You wanted to kiss him, touch him, hold him, declare your feelings for him. However, you decided to keep everything inside of you, thinking that it would be better than being rejected.

Until that day when the worst happened and Cheongsan’s best friend, Gyeongsu, found out about it.

You two were doing an assignment together in the library and you fell asleep because of you lack of resting from the previous night.

“You haven’t getting so much sleep lately, have you?” Gyeongsu looked at you with great interest, curiosity vibrating from every particle of him. “Anyway, you said Cheongsan’s name during your sleep.”

Your eyes widened the instant you heard this.

“No, I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did! I’m not deaf.” Gyeongsu smirked. “You were like Oh Cheongsan, you’re so handsome and perfect, I love you so muuuch.” you stared at the boy angrily, he obviously was enjoying teasing you and his wicked smile started to make you feel nervous.

“Shut the fuck up!” you slapped him hard on his head.

Gyeongsu let out a low laugh, but you ignored him and finished some last details of the assignment just in time for the break to end.

When you two got back to the classroom, you noticed it was empty. You and him were the first ones to return.

“So… ” Gyeongsu started talking again. “You’re in love with Cheongsan, but aren’t gonna tell him?”

“He doesn’t need to know.”

“Really? I don’t think so.” you felt your throat go dry at the thought of the boy saying something to Cheongsan.

“Please, don’t say anything to him!” Gyeongsu looked at you surprised. He had never seen you ask him for anything like that.

“I don’t know… he’s my best friend, I can’t keep secrets from him.” the boy argued firmly.

“Yeah, but this has nothing to do with you.” you replied lowering your voice now that the classroom was already getting full of students.

“Let me tell him. Who knows, hm? Maybe you two… ?” the boy said suggestively, causing a sigh to come out of your mouth.

“Never. Cheongsan would never give me a chance… ”

“I would never what?” you heard a familiar voice and then saw Cheongsan coming closer, he looked from one face to the other, trying to understand the situation. “Hey, all right here?”

Before Gyeongsu could think of answering, you acted faster than him.

“Gyeongsu, please… ” you ignored Cheongsan’s question as you beg his friend, making the best to sounded sweet and cute to convince him. “Please… ”

“Ah… okay.” the boy moved closer to your ear to whisper the following words: “You don’t have to beg. I won’t tell him.” and then he walked away from you along with Cheongsan, who had a very confused expression on his face.

If Cheongsan insisted at least a little, would he still keep his mouth shut?

No, you're sure you couldn't trust Gyeongsu.

___________

Your fear was confirmed when you heard Cheongsan shouting your name at the end of class in the middle of the hallway, but you didn't stop to wait for him and walked faster. At some point, you were practically running from him.

He knows. Fuck, he knows...

You went down the stairs to the first floor and the main entrance as fast as you could, but you didn't go that far, because soon the boy reached your figure and stop right in front of you, preventing you from scaping.

"Why are you running away from me?"

"What? No, I'm not."

"I may not be the smartest in our class, but I'm not dumb, y/n." he smiled, finding your odd behavior very amusing.

"Okay, hm... then let's pretend...let's pretend you don't know."

Cheongsan raised an eyebrow, not understanding what you meant.

"Don't know what?"

"Stop it! I know that Gyeongsu told you!" you didn't realize that your voice sounded quite a bit loud, causing the other students to stare at the two of you.

"He said.... ?"

"That I-I like you, Cheongsan."

"You forgot this in class." Cheongsan was holding up your math book and you didn't hesitate to grab it from his hand. "Wait... what you just said? You like me... ?" Cheongsan obviously didn't know what he should answer, but what you hated most was what was described in his eyes. Surprise. Disbelief. Compassion. "I'm sorry, I... "

"You have feelings for Onjo." Cheongsan's attention fixed even more on you. "I understand that, let's just forget about today, okay?" you walked quickly past him and he didn't stop you this time, but you could hear him sighing and saying again "I'm sorry."

__________

It would be a huge lie if you said that things didn't get awkward between you and Cheongsan. Not that it was completely bad, but even the way you looked at each other was different.

"There's something else here." Anyone would say that.

All the time, you had the feeling that the boy wanted to tell you something, and it left you in a state of anguish, wanting to know what he was thinking. But a week after you proposed to him, you couldn't even imagine that Cheongsan would react and cross the line.

"What are you doing right now?" you had just showered and were getting dressed when your cell phone started vibrating. It was already late. Why was he texting you?

"None of your concern."

"Are you upsed?"

"Fuck off, Cheongsan."

"I just want to know if you're okay."

"I am fine."

It was your last message before ignoring him, however, Cheongsan did not give up easily. The boy insisted and soon you could see a picture of the two of you together with Onjo in the background glowing on your cell phone screen. Annoyed, you aggressively answered his call.

"What do you want?"

"Come outside."

"What?"

"I said come out here. I'm at your door."

"Cheongsan, it's already very late."

"Please. Come here."

You debated with yourself for a few seconds, but ending up not resisting.

How could you resist him?

You put a sweatshirt over the thin shirt you used to wear to sleep and after making sure you weren't inappropriately dressed, you left your apartment quietly. Cheongsan was standing right in front of your door and he stared at your face for a long time without saying anything. Several seconds passed...

"Cheongsan... ?"

"You are really very beautiful." your heart melted and sped up at his words.

"S-stop it!" You stammered pathetically.

"Sorry for not noticing it before." Cheongsan took steps toward you, breaking the distance between you both.

"Please... don't do this. " and before you knew it, he was close, too close. That wasn't right.

You put your hand on his chest to push him away, but it didn't work.

"I can't stop thinking about you. Ever since that day...I can't stop thinking about it, y/n." Cheongsan lowered his eyes to your mouth and you swallowed hard. "Keep quiet, I need to try something."

You didn't have time to protest or think about anything before his lips met yours, initially it was supposed to be an innocent kiss. You felt like you were going to fall, but Cheongsan held your waist with one of his hands. He was really kissing you. It was real. Not a dream.

He deepened the kiss, his hold getting tighter on you, his body dangerously close to yours, and soon you both were making out as if this was the only way to stay alive. So wrong. You were in your front door and anyone could see that scene.

"Cheongsan... " you pulled your face away from his, looking into his dark eyes.

"Good night, y/n. Have sweet dreams." Cheongsan seemed like he wanted to kiss you again so badly, but he didn't. So you pushed him away and quickly came back inside your apartment.

You sighed deeply. Your legs were wobbly.

________

The next day, Lee Cheongsan said that it was a mistake what he had done. That he had acted on impulse. Cheongsan made you cry by saying that he loved Onjo and could not like you back. It hurt too much to hear. It hurt you even more that Cheongsan acted as if nothing had happened. He had said that he couldn't stop thinking about you and kissed you like that, and now... this? What a asshole.

Onjo had noticed how awkward you two had been lately, avoiding each other as much as possible. She tried to bring it up whenever the two of you were in the same place, but it was the same response from both sides. Nothing. There was nothing going on...

You felt so tired, you didn't want that heavy atmosphere with Cheongsan anymore. You wanted to have him around you. Even if only as a friend.

So you decided to move on when a student in your class asked you out, maybe if you started to date someone else everything would be okay...

"Are you insane?" you were so focused on your book on the table that you got a big fright when you heard Cheongsan's angry voice coming into the library.

"Cheongsan, I'm trying to study."

"Are you really going out with that guy?" he closed your book on the table to have your full attention on him.

You bit your lower lip nervously.

How did he know that? You hadn't told anyone except for Onjo...

"Who told you that?"

"Answer my question first." Cheongsan demanded.

"Yeah, I'm going out with him."

"No, you're not."

"I'll go out with whoever I want!" you stood up from your chair and pointed your finger in his face. Slowly, Cheongsan's expression became lighter and he smiled a little.

"What are you smiling at, you idiot?"

"You look so small and so cute trying to fight me." his smile got larger, but Cheongsan cursed as he was kicked hard in his leg. This time, you were smiling in victory.

"Lee Cheongsan, you are a... " you couldn't finish the sentence because the boy took you by surprise by hugging you suddenly. A very tight hug. It was as if he was afraid that you were going to run and disappear away from him.

"Please, don't go out with anyone else." the boy whispered, keeping you tied in his strong arms, and although you didn't respond with words, you hugged him back and that was just enough.

____________

It turned out to be you and Cheongsan's secret that you met with him secretly almost every day at school. Deep down, you were aware about the reason he might wanted it that way, but you pretended not to.

Maybe you were just being used, but you enjoyed being with him too much to stop and think about it properly.

His lips and his touch were addictive. You felt safe in his arms.

Maybe Cheongsan could fall in love with you eventually. Maybe he will forget his love for Onjo. Could he fall for you? Be yours?

However, the most important thing at that moment, while the boy pressed you against the wall of a empty room and once again got lost himself in your sweet kisses, you knew that Cheongsan was only yours.

all of us are dead — han gyeong-su “helpless” warning : cringe

Gyeong-su munch his chips, putting one after one, the loudness of each bite causes you to cringe at him. Hoping that he'll have some goddamn self awareness that will creep up on him to knock him in the head. Currently, the two of you sat alone in the classroom. Him, quote-being-a-good-friend-that-you-should-be-thankful-for-quote, offers you some company while you study for the upcoming test.

An exasperated sigh left your lips, dragging your hand along your face as you side eyed him, borrowing your phone to play some games and scroll through the media. “Could you tone it down with the crunches? It's getting annoying.”

“Hmmmmm.. no.”

The boy popped another chip and bite on it loudly like before, this time, on purpose. Getting on your nerves is one of his favorite hobby after all.

Hehe.

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose for the nth time of the moment. “Dumbass Gyeong-su.” You swore, rolling your eyes as he nonchalantly likes some videos, chuckling at them with an obnoxious laugh making you smile in amusement.

With a sigh, you returned back to writing down your notes, heart thumping in your chest in content. For now..

Let's just cherish this moment.

“Hey.” Gyeong-su craned his neck to look at you. wiping his fingers after licking all the powder off with a satisfied hum. What greets him was your head, plopping on his shoulder. Exhaustion took over your body.

The boy stayed still. Not knowing what to do.

He glanced at you, chest heaving up and down peacefully, asleep like a baby. His eyes travelling to your face where he caught sight of your eye bags—the excessive times you stay up late, studying so hard to pass your academic grades.

Gyeong-su admired you.

Not just looking up at you because of your dedication but also because you're just.. just so perfect..

So charming in his eyes that he can't help but unconsciously lift his hand to brush your hair that seemingly obscure his sight—your beauty.

Thump.

Thump.

He felt his heartbeat quicken. Mentally scolding himself that you might hear the loud drums inside his chest.

Gyeong-su knows; you're way out of his league. You were all that he never is. But that is why his eyes shine for you. He ‘choked’ his hand that was planning to cup your cheeks, screaming at it in his head.

What the fuck is wrong with me?!

Thump.

And there it is again.

Gyeong-su covered his face, feeling it flush in a deep red, his leg bouncing up and down. Flustered, is what he feel. Fuck. You're so damn oblivious of his advances that he doesn't know whether or not be grateful. He wants you to notice him at the same time not—this friendship that he had built with you, he doesn't want to end it if it somehow all goes south.

“What do I do ohhh God, what the fuck do I do..?” He murmured into his hands.

Grumbling, Gyeong-su reaches out to slightly poke you.

And it felt wrong, but it felt just right. Is what it feels like if we are together? His mind stilled into euphoria at the thought.

He tries so hard not to scream, his crush, laying on his shoulder—fuck, if he could, he would've ran away and bashed his head into the wall to remind himself that this is reality and not a damn dream.

Feeling you stir, Gyeong-su stiffen in his spot before slowly easing up, adjusting your head so that you won't fall.

Maybe..

It isn't that bad..

Just a few minutes.

A few more.

“Han y/n...”

With eyes wide at what fell out of his mouth, Gyeong-su punched himself, awakening you from your slumber.

“Wha?!”

You sat up straight, eyes snapping to Gyeong-su immediately who cradle his head. “Gyeong-su?! What happened? Are you okay?!”

“ughh Fuck.. do I look like I am?” He grumbles, hand holding his jaw from the impact. “ssibal.”

“What were you doing, honestly.”

“I had a mental crisis of what I should eat today.”

You scrunched you nose at his response before giggling, “Geez, really..”

Slinging your bag over to your shoulder, standing up to pat the boy, “Come on, let's go.” You usher, hand outstretched for him to grab on to.

“Hnnn, hold on, my jaw still hurts.”

“Leave it to hurt more, let's go eat, my treat.”

“OHHH y/n you're so generous today! Have you gone mad- I mean, kind because of too much studying?”

“Keep talking and I'll take it all back.”

“Sorry sorry, please no take backs! Oh wonderful y/n!” You drag him, poor boy nearly stumbling face plant to the ground. “Whoa!”

You walk in front of him, the hand that intertwine with his squeezes slightly. It was a good thing that you are leading the way, dragging him, or else Gyeong-su would've seen your face. Flustered and hot.

Han y/n... actually sounds nice.

Reverse Genshin AU(?) Scaramouche -THE Y/N main-

Introductions!

Works as a waiter in a shady club in the outskirts of town; can and WILL get information out of people and sell it for a price. Barely touches the game while working, but makes up for it when on his way back home on the train. There was on time when someone tried to steal his phone despite his “fuck off” vibes; the poor to-be-thief didn’t get to even get his hands on the phone before Scaramouche basically killed him with a glare. Plays whomever he finds enjoyable, but is willing to spend money on his favorites (especially you). WHEN you appeared on the story he was absolutely floored, obliterated, GONE, WRECKED- ok, to be fair, he LOVED your design and after you said your first line, he was smitten. Will hunt down ANY crumbs about your story, past, present and future; in case you have a tragic tale, despite his claims about not giving a shit, he will be quite understanding and i’m not the one to tell you, and you’re not one to know but he may or may not have shed a tear or two.

Wishing!

Screams “FUCK YES!” When your trailer is revealed, has your OST on blast in his room; despite your banner coming up WHILE he’s working, he will wait until he gets back home to throw all his wishes to you.  Loudest out of everyone when it comes the time to pull on your banner. Everyone will know the moment he gets you. C6 you a week after getting you first, he wanted to ensure he likes your playstyle that people sing praises to. He fucking LOVES IT. Scaramouche also gets surprisingly lucky on his pulls to C6 you, wins his 50/50 almost every single time and gets your designated supports to c6 too. Had a respectable amount of wishes piled up JUST for you. He gets absolutely wrecked when it comes to your weapon tho- so much bloodshed on that banner, gets a couple of weapons to R5 before he gets yours.

Time to Play!

The bitch that refuses to make public his builds despite having really solid ones If you manage to see them however, you will NEVER see a (Y/N) better built in your life, those artifact rolls are the “see it to believe it” trope. He loves you so much is incredible.Will change his profile to ONLY show you and your build. Gets a reputation after some youtuber comes across his profile and fawns over that glorious build. He’s known as THE y/n main after that.High-key proud but won’t be caught dead saying that.

What would the familiars do if they realised their master had gone to TW to escape them?

Why would you do such a thing..? They’ve waited so long to meet you, to serve you, to love you, and yet... and yet... You ran away?

(an incredibly long answer under the cut!)

The situation: They meet you again in Twisted Wonderland, but you tell them you came here to escape them. They don’t take it well.

Heartslabyul is absolutely heartbroken, but they’re the most understanding of your decision to run. They were your familiars the longest, so taking care of you came naturally to them. Even now, your safety and happiness is the top priority to them. 

Ace seems like he’ll shatter if you touch him, the shock rendering him frozen. After all he did to find you again, you tell him you don’t want him? Deuce digs his nails into his palms, wide-eyed, but takes a breath and manages to give you a wobbly smile. He gently pulls the trembling Ace away, whose desperate cries are starting to escape his throat.

Cater laughs, breathless and unbelieving. Relief and grief rush in like torrents, and it doesn’t take long before his laughter turns hysteric. Tears keep pouring out and it takes Trey yanking his hands away from his face, where his claws almost dug into, to pull him out of it. Trey’s face is twisted in deep sorrow, but he’s keeping his own tears in as he murmurs something to Cater. At his words, they both snap their gazes to Riddle, whose expression hasn’t changed.

Riddle’s face is carefully blank, like your declaration of wanting to escape didn’t hurt him at all. He’s staring intensely at you, trying to burn the image of you alive and well into his mind and then... he turns away, barking orders out to the others. “Let this be our final service to you,” he says to you, voice breaking. “Let us take care of you one last time.”

After all, the rest of your familiars won’t take the news as well as they did. Heartslabyul gathers themselves as best as they can, their sobs fading into shaky breaths. They’ll have to force the others back into the mirror. It’s the least they can do for you now.

Savanaclaw’s reaction is particularly explosive. Their group is made up of strays with nowhere to go, who found a home in you, and now even you don’t want them.

Jack is snarling, trying to bite off Ace’s head for stopping him from moving any closer to you. He doesn’t get it, he doesn’t understand why this is all happening. It just doesn’t make sense. Why would you abandon them too? What did they do wrong? Why didn’t you tell them they were wrong?! Cater grabs him by the neck and pushes him away, his anger morphing into howling agony as the grief sets in.

Ruggie is being held back by Deuce and Trey, but his hands are reaching out to you. His words are incomprehensible through his tears, as he claws at empty air and digs his feet into the ground. Why are they forcing him to leave? He just got to see you again! Why won’t you meet his eyes? What’s wrong? Why won’t you look his way anymore..?

Leona glares at you, betrayal etching itself on every bit of his body language. Riddle stands firm in front of him, tense and ready to put him down if takes a step towards you. Leona’s hands twitch, as if wanting to tear you apart, and Riddle nearly attacks him before he just... closes his eyes. When Leona opens them and looks at you again, there’s nothing but resignation left. He seems soulless as he leaves, having lost everything that mattered to him.

Octavinelle doesn’t believe you at all. They keep talking like they haven’t heard you or Riddle’s commands to go back through the mirror, as if this really was just a happy reunion. The way their eyes glaze over gives away their denial, if Azul’s shaking hands didn’t already.

Heartslabyul can’t risk anything with Jade and Floyd. As soon as their smiles turn too sharp, they’re trying to restrain them and force them back. Floyd is immediately kicking and screaming, his voice shrill and desperate as he claws at Cater and Deuce. He’s threatening to destroy the entire place and their original world too, if you don’t come home and stop him, if you keep refusing to return! The last glimpse you get of him as he’s forced into the mirror is the promise in his eyes that he will follow through on his threats.

Jade is just as violent, though his voice is leveled as he unblinkingly meets your gaze. Ace shoves a hand over his mouth, to muffle his increasingly descriptive threats to everyone you used to know in their world. Trey hisses in pain as Jade’s nails scratch him over and over, but they manage to push him into the mirror, Ace pulling away his bitten hand. Jade’s eyes never leave you as he goes.

Azul crumples to the ground all on his own, falling to his knees as he begs you to come back, to come home. He’s a complete wreck, as the sounds of the frantic twins fade away, his wailing sobs louder than even Floyd’s screams. He grovels, head pressed to the ground, for you to please please please please-- You can’t even make out what’s he’s asking of you anymore, as Riddle drags his limp body into the mirror.

Scarabia can sense something’s off as soon as they arrive. Kalim’s smile crumples at the sight of Heartslabyul looking so resolute, Jamil tensing behind him in response.

The two of them hear you out, Kalim interrupting more and more as you talk. Eventually, he won’t let you speak anymore as he begins to ramble about all the things you’ve missed since you’ve been gone. He can’t bear to hear you talk about wanting to leave them. It’s too much. Kalim can’t stand still, his entire body buzzing with nerves and pent up sorrow, eyes darting everywhere. When he reaches a hand out to you, as if to test the validity of your claims, and Deuce grips his wrist with a grim expression, he breaks. Ace catches him when he falls, curling into himself as sobs wrack his body. 

Jamil is silent and motionless up until Kalim breaks, where he then suddenly snaps his gaze from you to the Heartslabyul boys. His voice is low as he begins to speak, before it rises in volume the longer he goes on. He’s blaming the Heartslabyul group for forcing them back, for letting you leave them, for being cowards--but not once does he blame you, unable to turn the brunt of his anger on you even now. He leaves with Kalim, giving you a last, longing look, and another scathing glare for the others.

Pomefiore is grief-stricken before you even have the chance to say anything to them. Vil looks like the world is ending before his eyes, causing Rook and Epel to both pick up on the severity of the situation instantly.

Epel’s expression gets worse and worse the more he hears, torn between erupting with anger or crying his eyes out. He ends up doing neither when Cater scoops him up, who didn’t want to risk keeping him around any longer than they need to. Epel’s furious demands to be put down are desperate pleads for a little more time with you by the time he reaches the mirror.

Rook hasn’t said anything the entire time, choosing instead to give you a deep bow and a flawless smile, before he departs. Judging by the stern, disapproving look Rook gets from Trey as he passes by, he has no intentions of letting things end here. However, instead of loudly announcing his plans like the twins did, he says nothing, leaving a chill in your spine and a terrible omen in the air.

Vil watches you quietly through it all, studying your expression. If there was even a slight chance that you would want to return, to come home to them, he would’ve pushed relentlessly for it. And yet, seeing you now, standing tall and firm on your decision even through all their tears, he can’t find anything to say. The resignation that slowly consumes his gaze looks eerily similar to Leona’s, that loss of purpose to continue living. Still, even as his heart shatters, he wishes you the best, his walk to the mirror slow and unsteady.

Ignihyde seems like they expected this from the start. Idia isn’t at all surprised by your decision, even if Ortho is frantically looking between the two of you in a panic.

Ortho is gentle as he questions you, prying for answers for how it all ended up this way. At your every response, he whips his head around to look at Idia, watching for a reaction. When the most he gets is a sneer, he turns back to you and presses you again if you really, really, want to leave them like this? Isn’t this... too cruel? When Idia walks forward, Ortho is pulled back by Deuce, then Trey draws them both close for a hug.

Idia’s march towards you is halted by Ace and Cater, both of whom are already growling. Idia eyes them for a moment, then turns his attention to you and Riddle behind them. Recognizing that they won’t let him get any closer, he starts his rant there, blaming you for ruining him, for ruining every single one of them, and then just running away from it all! That you can’t just leave after everything you’ve done! They’ll never be the same anymore! How are any of them supposed to live past the fact that you don’t want them?!

Cater and Ace force him into the mirror before he says anything worse, his words abruptly cutting off as he’s pushed through. Ortho looks to you like he wants a final hug before he goes, but he hangs his head, and leaves without another sound.

Diasomnia is full of mixed reactions. Half of them are smiling, the other half is devastated. The Heartslabyul boys can’t decide how to divide the work, the response from Diasomnia being too strange. They cautiously surround you, extremely on edge with Malleus grinning at them.

Sebek is absolutely dismayed. Words are failing him, and he can’t gauge what to do based on Malleus’ face either. He settles for his own honest reaction, which is to start bawling and begging for another chance. Whatever they did to upset you, they can fix it! Everyone treasures you so much, you must know that, right? You know they’d listen to whatever you say! So why..? Lilia holds a hand out, quieting him instantly as he turns his attention elsewhere.

Silver isn’t faring any better, realizing how serious you are about this. He’s completely crushed, frankly, and he just wants to go lay down and fall asleep and never wake up again. Then the fear seeps into his expression as Malleus laughs, and Silver turns towards him, disbelief evident in the way he breathes a barely audible no.

Malleus and Lilia are both watching you like you’re just throwing a tantrum. Lilia coos, delighted over how resolute you are. He nods at your every word, as if he’s simply indulging your whims. When you demand he go back through the mirror, how proud he is at your display of courage comes through in the way he claps enthusiastically after your speech. He herds a shocked Sebek and a worried Silver away into the mirror, smiling all the way.

Malleus hasn’t stopped grinning since he caught sight of you, but his expression melts into something softer, more fond, as the other three leave. He gestures at the world around you, your “Twisted Wonderland”, and he asks you how much you know about it. When you can’t come up with the answer he’s looking for, the pure delight on his face is a sight to behold. 

“You’ll be home soon, then,” Malleus purrs, his heavy, burning adoration for you flooding his gaze. “Grim does not disappoint.”

And with that, he’s gone. The Heartslabyul boys don’t seem to know how to react, wearily looking around for any signs that someone else was still around. When their search comes up empty, they turn to you, waiting for you to take it all back and come home with them. When you say nothing, Riddle nods, and pushes the rest of them through the mirror.