caramelt4me

[caramelt4me]

Draft #3

A single day can alter the trajectory of a life—for better or worse.

A handful of hours may be all it takes for someone to sense they’ve found what they never knew was missing—something like a soulmate.

Someone who fills a void they hadn’t noticed earlier, and suddenly— they can no longer imagine a life without them.

And yet, in the span of a single breath, a familiar soul can feel like a stranger.

A flicker of doubt sometimes enough to unravel trust—exposing just how fragile human relationships can be.

Perhaps those are anomalies—cases of rare sensitivity, outliers in one’s life—where it’s all just a warped perception of reality and time brought on by surging emotions of different human minds.

Or perhaps there’s something else at play—beyond one’s control.

Some truths may forever remain elusive.

Some questions, unanswered.

But time—

Time does not always require an equation to prove its relativity.

Sometimes, it simply needs to be lived;

Experienced firsthand,

Only to realize in hindsight—

That even a lifetime may be a bargain to understand oneself,

Let alone another life.

And so,

Some things may not be as they seem.

Demanding attention that’s worth more than just a snapshot in time.

❤︎

[caramelt4me]

Draft #2

No two people react the same, nor does one person ever respond identically to the same moment twice.  And yet, the foolish human yearning to be objective remains.

To strip perception of bias.

An ironic pursuit born of bias itself.

A paradox, perhaps—Or merely a quiet hypocrisy people have learned to live with.

Whatever the case, the truth holds:

The mind often bends to what the eyes choose to believe.

One may claim to have seen enough—a reflex far more frequent than they care to admit.

Sometimes, it leads them to the end.

Sometimes, it leads them astray.

But either way, one must concede:

Perception shifts.

The lens is never fixed.

With each turn of life’s kaleidoscope, the fragments rearrange—

Tinted shards, casting visions in tender pastels;

Or in stark, jarring contrasts.

Thus, the “real” truth one might find in the end, may simply be the last pattern captured in the moment—

And what chooses to look back at you through the looking glass.

[caramelt4me]

fr :'')

[caramelt4me]

𝕊𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕥. | 비밀 - Ch XVI "XVIII - 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 [2]" [MxM]

[Excerpt from the chapter - Clade x Nex ] [MxM] [OCs]

trigger warning: Manipulation, angst, mental decline, gaslighting, isolation, corruption, brainwashing, and substance abuse.

"Oh~ Are those tears I see, my princess?"

Nex had blinked. His vision blurred; his mind still hazy.

Then, instinctively—his eyelids fluttered shut, and the tears spilled.

Soft lips had kissed them away though.

Clade purred against his damp skin, voice dripping with mock concern.

"Why cry for a man who only ever made you cry?"

A thumb brushed against his parted lips—slipping between them so easily, because Nex had stopped protesting.

He had been tired.

Too tired to fight.

Empty grey eyes met slightly irritated amber ones.

Clade hated it.

Hated that, even now, even in his absence— Asher still had a tighter grip on Nex’s mind than he did.

So, the golden viper had done what he did best.

He had whispered.

He had planted seeds.

He had tried to rewrite the truth.

Spoke of Asher in past tense.

Treated him like a dead man.

And eventually— Nex had stopped lashing out.

Slowly, bit by bit, he had started to believe it.

Because if Asher was dead—

Then at least he’d never have to see what a despicable human his little brother had become.

Not even his hyung’s death had stopped him from doing drugs.

And maybe—

Maybe Clade was right.

── Maybe…it is time to move on.

The broken maknae mumbled incoherently the thought aloud. “…”

Seeing Nex utterly defenceless and on the verge of giving up, the blonde had smirked, taking a wild shot in the dark—

One he knew would land exactly where he wanted.

"Or are these tears for my enjoyment alone? Still sulking because I broke your innocent little heart and kissed that girl, hm?"

Annoyance flickered through the previously vacant grey eyes as Nex’s lips clamped shut, his jaw tightening on instinct.

Clade snickered, pleased by the predictable reaction.

He wasn’t about to let the irritated maknae slip from his grasp just yet. "Aww~ Did I hit a nerve, Nexie?" he purred, his breath warm against the younger’s face as he leaned in—close enough that their lips almost brushed.

"If you insist, though," the golden vixen teased, his fingers lazily tracing the sharp line of Nex’s jaw, "I’ll just have to show you that everyone has it in them to cheat." His voice was smooth, shameless. "They’re just better at hiding it. But me? I’m always honest with you."

── What a fucking joke. Nex had grunted—and whether intentional or not, some of his spit landed across Clade’s lips.

The blonde’s eyes darkened, but before he could react, the dazed maknae let out a smug little chuckle, like a spoiled brat revelling in mischief.

It didn’t last very long though.

The second Nex’s fogged-up brain registered what had happened, his stomach had churned.

Disgusted and utterly horrified.

Clade, utterly unfazed, had licked his lips clean—lapping up the remnants of the maknae’s spit without wasting a drop. His flushed face and the slow, deliberate way his tongue moved—while maintaining direct eye-contact, sent an immediate wave of revulsion down Nex’s spine.

── Eww—what-what the actual fuck-!

If he wasn’t sober before, Nex sure as hell was then.

But the golden viper hadn’t been done yet.

It seemed Clade still had honeyed poison left to drip into Nex’s ears.

"Don’t worry," The delusional blonde had murmured, his voice silky.

“Even if everyone else eventually leaves you, I’ll always stay by your side.”

“No matter what, Nexie."

A direct hit—right where it had mattered.

The little grey-eyed boy inside Nex, the one who feared abandonment above all else, had frozen.

His body had stopped resisting, instinctively attuned to the voice belonging to the only company—the only person that still remained to wipe his half-dried tears away.

"Because I’m the only one who accepts you for who you really are."

Clade had watched as the maknae’s clouded eyes finally stopped looking past him—and started looking at him instead.

He had liked that. That look.

That flicker of dependence.

"No one else will ever see your worth like I do."

With a lazy smirk, the golden vixen had parted Nex’s lips again, revelling in the way the younger didn’t pull away this time.

His grey eyes hadn’t been empty anymore—rather still pridefully stubborn, but laced with a quiet, unspoken need.

A plea, perhaps—for Clade to not go back on his word.

To stay.

No matter what.

A crooked smile had then stretched across the blonde’s lips.

His precious Nexie might have despised him—but he despised loneliness even more.

Why else would he put up with everything, despite the truth having been out in the open for months then?

"And even if you say you hate me, bud,”

“Deep down, you know I’m the only real friend you’ll ever have."

Clade had chuckled, booping Nex’s nose in mock affection.

He continued to repeat that action to irritate, until the latter couldn’t help but scrunch up his face—and sneeze.

A tiny muffled one.

Trying to resist the reflex action in vain somehow managed to leave Nex momentarily more disoriented than from the drugs still fogging his system.

── So cute~

Clade wiped away the non-existent snort off, the dazed maknae’s nose—before the latter’s unconscious face slumped into the blonde’s palm.

A golden opportunity seemed to have presented itself, again.

With the field cleared of any obstacles for him yet again—the blonde's sly hands finally slipped under the maknae’s tight pants to take care of…the little business.

.

But even the universe, in all its vast indifference, must have felt a flicker of shame at some point—for what it had done to the defenseless wallflower, cursed with the fate of a mud-born lotus.

The only difference?

This little one wasn’t resilient. It could wither. It could rot in the very swamp it had been thrust into.

Yet, just as everything in life carries an expiration date—

So too would the arrogant smirk stretched across the demented blonde’s lips.

---

[caramelt4me]

what’s your quotev username?

PAND0RA (Curiosity)

[caramelt4me]

Yandere lover who makes you become dependent on them. You're used to doing things on your own, but when they come into your life you're suddenly out of balance. You could be trying to tie your shoes like normal, and they come rushing in and tying them for you. You're about to have lunch on your own, and they're pulling out a chair in front of you and taking your spoon to feed you. When they're around you don't have to lift a finger- or well, they don't let you, really.

+ Yandere lover who gets upset when you do something for yourself, like you got up earlier than them to make breakfast, and they're pouting as they see you in the kitchen because you weren't with them in bed. "You don't have to worry about anything baby, I got this." Yandere who sees you trying to do the bed after they come out of the shower and they rush towards you telling you they will finish it up for you. "Baby, you don't need to force yourself to do anything, just let me take care of you honey."

You're scared to depend on them so much because you feel like they won't like it even though they tell you to just leave everything up to them.

"You don't need to be scared, I promise all you need to do is depend on me. I won't take away my attention from you to break you down, I'm not that mean."

[caramelt4me]

Soft yandere partner, who's never missing a beat when it comes to you. Adoring you from the inside out, they love you so much, but they're so gentle about it. Like the slightest pressure might break you. They're gentle in many things, like how they express their love, how they speak and look at you. Even in the way they treat you infront of others. You don't know them in any other way but the kindness they show. Until they're not so soft and kind with you sometimes.

+ Soft yandere who you forget that their nature is still yandere. They're always making you feel like you're sitting on this high throne, like you'll never come down. But they’re quick to remind you of who put you up there. When you act a certain way that can't control, they snap. They're pulling you forward, slamming their lips into yours, so hard you feel it could draw blood. They don't just wish to see you when your happy and at your best moments. They want to see what you look like desperate, sad, and crying- begging. There's this look in their eyes that has you scared when you look into them, they're wiping your tears away with their hands before they lick them away.

"Everything that is you is mine."

"I'm trying my best to be patient here, but you're making it a little hard for me right now."

[caramelt4me]

𝕊𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕥. | 비밀 - Ch XVI "𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭"

Trigger warning: mentions of substance ab*se, corruption, primal love (extreme platonic love edging romantic), suggestive themes, self-harm, death, mental decline, identity-crisis, hallucinations, brainwashing, angst and manipulation

·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

𝔻uring the not-so-little intermission in your Storytime, Nex sprawled impatiently across the couch, his restless bandaged fingers fidgeting with his phone. The screen blurred before his eyes, nothing really holding his attention—not when his grey irises kept flickering toward the stairs.

Still no sign of you.

His lips pushed into a soft pout, a small, almost pitiful groan slipping past them—his mind already unravelling at the edges, as if experiencing the first pangs of separation anxiety all over again.

The first pang (though very brief in comparison) had struck an hour ago, the moment you peeled yourself away from him—after hugging him—to fetch a box of miscellaneous items. Art supplies, stationery, a plethora of board games…

And perhaps, you had expected him to explore it while you took your sweet time in the shower.

But that box would remain untouched.

Because why would Nex even bother with anything when his noona wasn’t around?

── It’s no fun alone.

The maknae sighed, gaze flickering toward the sketchbook lying next to him. For the twentieth time in five minutes, his eyes traced over the open page—a silly little doodle of a monocled-hamster fairy in a tux.

The one you and he had drawn together.

── Noona made it look more like a chubby guinea pig, though.

A chuckle bubbled up in his throat.

The pink-haired maknae had always been the doodle artist of Twilight Dreamers, winning over game show hosts with his absurdly cute drawings—but this? This was his masterpiece.

The cutest, ugliest sketch he had ever made, because you had made it with him.

And of course, it was because you had been multitasking, narrating your animated real tales while doodling with him, while he—he had been too busy listening. Keeping track of the storyline, reminding you whenever you lost your train of thought—something he had never done for anyone else.

Nex was a scatterbrain—furthest from being an avid listener.

But if you were the one talking?

He’d listen.

Doesn’t matter what the topic was.

And now that he knew you both were kindred spirits—both quietly desiring to be liked by one another (though his desire was perhaps more…intense), he felt himself clinging to every wakeful moment spent with you from that point onwards.

Oh, what he’d give to return to that moment.

To rewind to the last second of his caught-off-guard hopelessness and play it over and over again—to thank that first tear that had slipped down his cheek.

Until then, he had despised his tears, had always seen them as pathetic, involuntary signs of weakness that only ever made things worse for him.

But this time?

They had redeemed themselves—worked their magic on you.

Made you intervene—made you comfort him.

Made you hug him.

And with that, the exhausting struggle in his head—the constant overthinking about how much personal space he should keep between you and himself—was gone.

Now, he didn’t feel guilty for seeking your warmth. Didn’t feel wrong basking in your gentle, unfiltered affection—so effortlessly soothing, so maddeningly natural in the way it silenced the dark voices that clawed at him from within.

It was better than what his hot-and-cold hyung had ‘accidentally’ managed to do.

But, of course, that peace hadn’t lasted very long.

The gurgling whispers would return—a relentless, violent chorus louder than before.

Like parasites, they slithered through his thoughts, indifferent to his pain. Burrowing deeper, twisting and needling, they forced him to reaffirm his loyalty to Asher—a loyalty that felt less like devotion in those excruciatingly long minutes and more like chains of despair.

He’d been drowning in it until your warmth pulled him back from the edge. And for a fleeting moment, harmony within him was restored.

Although…

A lull before the storm is still a kind of silence, isn’t it?

Perhaps this so-called "peace" was only sinking deeper, twisting something even more fundamental at his core. Or maybe, Nex had unlocked a part of himself he had never dared to explore before—

Who knows.

Yet it was enough to reignite the hunger inside him.

“I’m hungry for breakfast. Aren’t you too?”

The oblivious you had said innocently before.

Oh, if you only knew how long Nex had been starving for an affection so simple but pure.

(Nex continues daydreaming about you—)

“I don’t want to talk about it if it’s only going to make you feel worse about yourself.”

Your kind words had caught Nex off guard at first.

Yet, they had lingered, soft and unexpected—planting a seed in his mind.

It should have grown slowly, innocently—something tender and harmless.

But it hadn’t.

Instead, it had spread like wildfire, monstrous and consuming—choking out the voices that had been screaming in his head for so long.

The voices that had demanded blind worship of Asher, even when it hurt. Even when Nex wanted to scream, to throw a tantrum, to rail against the unfairness of it all—

That his hyung didn’t even trust him enough to tell him your name.

Your. Fucking. Name.

The name he was now dying to know.

The name he couldn’t ask for.

Because his hyung said no.

── Ugh, stop thinking about it again!

But then—just as the frustration threatened to consume him—his mind was effectively distracted by recalling another, rather sugary, unexpected kindness of yours—no, more like soft affection.

“I didn’t want to seem too nosy, but I actually wanted to try your cereal. The cinnamon one—um... churro—"

You had wanted to try his cereal.

Such a small thing—yet so dear to his inner child.

No one had asked you to do that.

Definitely not Asher—but you did.

You had cared.

Cared enough to let him eat from your bowl because, as he put it, it tasted better that way.

── And it was not just because of the banana milk.

…Was what the maknae adamantly told himself—as a sudden surge of childlike glee took over—threatening to crack through the fragile dam of his already unstable mind.

His only thought right after, had been to earn more of your affection, more of your approval.

And so, without even realizing it—Nex had gone a bit rogue.

The giddy need to please you drowned out any sense of caution, his mind too tangled in his desperation to even consider how his actions might be misunderstood.

“Nex, I’m not your girlfriend.”                 “…as if I were your girlfriend.”

But now, after getting the taste of being misunderstood—could he ever truly be that innocent again?

Nex wasn’t sure anymore.

The forbidden desire that had slipped into his thoughts seemed… tempting—the quiet dilemma reflected in the stormy depths of his grey eyes as he sank deeper into the haze.

And then, of course, you’d said the magic words.

“I do want you to like me, Nex.”

Nex still couldn’t believe it.

How could you give him something so precious—so dangerous?

And how could you be so polite about it?

“But not like this. You don't have to try so hard to please me...”

Not only refusing to feel uncomfortable but instead comforting him, telling him he didn’t even have to try that hard?

Were you even real?

Or were you an actual angel, who had descended straight from heaven?

How else was he supposed to make sense of the fact that you actually seemed to respect him?

His noona—a light so radiant, so pure—treated him with a kindness he had never known, not even from his precious hyung.

And certainly not from that blonde pervert who claimed, time and time again, that he was the only one who would ever stay by Nex’s side—despite how much pain he had caused.

But you?

You were beyond anything Nex could have hoped for.

── Noona…

It felt… illegal.

It felt reckless.

But the last thing it felt like… was unwanted.

── What is this feeling?

── I… want more.

A slow, erratic smile stretched across his face, cheeks burning instantly. But he only allowed himself a moment to bask in it before sitting up abruptly, his thoughts already racing.

── Should I touch up my makeup?

── …Just in case.

Just in case there were more opportunities to hug you today.

Nex had never been big on physical intimacy—or at least, he hadn’t been.

But that hug—that touch—had been different.

Your warmth had been real.

The kind of real that didn’t make his skin crawl.

The kind of real that he could crave.

The maknae exhaled sharply, bandaged fingers reaching out, slowly grasping the sofa pillow you had been holding earlier—squeezing it, as if trying to imprint the feeling of you into his skin.

Nex felt feverish—the acute sickness rapidly spreading in his heart. Yet he already knew it would become the most comforting chronic disease of his life.

It was overwhelming, suffocating, but in a way that felt… good. It trampled over the ugly scars left behind by a certain blonde without hesitation, demanding to take up more space.

But, of course, Nex wouldn’t realize that just yet.

Flustered and giddy, he pictured your face in his mind, the storm in his grey eyes softening into a hazy swirl. And then his imagination slipped—unhinged, uncontrollable.

He saw himself, like a ghost in his own memory, leaning closer as you spoke. His fingers brushing against your oblivious lips. His hand tracing over your skin.

He didn’t know what Asher had done to capture you.

But if his hyung ever showed even the slightest sign of letting go—

── I’d take you for myself.

The thought slithered into his mind before he could stop it.

Nex frowned, through the haze.

── No, I shouldn’t…

── Hyung wouldn’t like that.

Even if he was still bitter about the jab Asher had thrown his way this morning.

── And noona seems like the loyal type…

His grey eyes softened.

Not a single mention of the fight with Asher had slipped from your lips.

Perhaps to avoid giving the wrong idea again. Perhaps because you knew—painfully so—that he would always be forced to guard Asher’s secrets.

Whether he wanted to or not.

And don't get him wrong, he had never misunderstood your relationship.

He valued his life far too much to ever test the limits of Asher’s wrath—despite how it seemed.

── But I’m sober right now, aren’t I?

── Then why do I feel so out of control…?

The thought flickered—dangerous, poisonous—before he smothered it with an oblivious sip from his hydration bottle. And then—a slow, creeping shift occurred.

── …ha, but is it really that bad?

His stormy greys glinted, playful yet wicked.

── Noona will want to take care of me better then, won’t she?

His emotions were all over the place, further knotted by the unexpected kindness you’d shown him. But somehow, Nex still clung to his vision—his obsession.

Sure, his heart felt “tainted” at the moment—Impure.

Streaked with fresh anger toward Asher, shadowed by despair, and illuminated by the confusing, intoxicating light of his feelings for you.

But he could make it “pure” again.

Starting with you.

His glimmer of hope—the “half” that had exceeded his expectations.

Perhaps, that was the morbid charm of having a dual obsession—if one failed to deliver, there was always the another to cling to in the meantime.

Moreover, Nex wasn’t as well-versed in dark arts as Asher—he couldn’t undo his mistakes with extensive manipulation and cold calculation—and something ‘additional’ that was clearly beyond his level of comprehension.

But if something bad about Nex remained, something you would probably would not like?

The maknae would make sure to erase it before it was to reach you—like it never existed in the first place.

It seemed no DNA test was required to confirm his shared blood with that blue-eyed Lucifer.

Truly, the universe has a cruel sense of humour, didn’t it?

Oh, and what if it was something stupid and silly about Nex?

Then the maknae would let it slip to you on purpose.

── Since that would mean more hugs from noona, wouldn’t it?

Nex hoped, a smile uncanny to his blue-eyed hyung’s—tugged at his lips, before he got up and heading back to his room to make his makeup smear-proof.

But just like you, Nex wasn't wired to be a carbon copy of your lover.

And no amount of shared blood or twisted experience could rewrite that script.

Because unlike Asher, Nex was human.

Guilt—conscious or not, could cripple him whenever it pleased.

And it did, yet again.

Just when Nex had finished touching up his makeup—he suddenly changed his mind. The maknae wiped it all off, before he could second-guess himself—every trace of the mask he’d built to hide behind.

The freckles, the uneven texture, and all his other imperfections were now exposed.

The reflection that stared back at him was raw. Tired. Vulnerable.

Pathetic, even.

── Why…did I just do that?

His stormy greys stared back at his equally perplexed reflection.

He didn’t fully understand why he’d done it—why the need to strip away his shield suddenly felt so urgent, so necessary.

The hollow ache in his chest only deepened as he faced the cruel version of himself that he had barely gotten used to looking at, yet now completely identified with.

But amidst the confusion, there was a fragile, unspoken hope.

That maybe…. just maybe—you could see past all of it.

The cracks, the haze, the jagged edges that he couldn’t fix.

You were “good,” after all—better than him, seemed better than the rest of his world.

And somehow, in a way he couldn’t fully explain, he hoped you could see him for who he really was.

Something more fragile, more broken—something that needed saving.

But as the thought flickered through his mind, another pang of doubt gripped him—fighting against that fragile hope.

What if, in letting you see him like this, he lost the last of what little control he still had?

What if you saw something he wasn’t ready for you to see?

── No, stop with the doubts.

── Not now. Not when I’m so close to having what I always wanted.

He shook his head, forcing a faint smile to curl at the corners of his lips, his cheeks almost flushing with the lingering high of the thought.

He left the bathroom, eager to return to you, eager to hear the end of your story, eager to drown himself in your presence and forget the chaos inside him.

But the moment he stepped out of the room—his world tilted.

You were hunched over on the couch, trembling.

Your breathing was shallow, uneven, as though each breath was a battle. Tears glistened in your wide, horrified eyes, poised to spill over, as they stayed locked on the screen of his phone.

His mind blanked.

The air seemed to thicken, suffocating, and for a second, the room was silent except for the frantic thrum of his heartbeat. Then, reality slammed into him with a force that nearly took his breath away.

You were in pain.

You were breaking.

And it was all his fault.

The thought seized him, colder than fear, sharper than guilt. He couldn’t bear it—couldn’t let it happen. Not to you too.

“Noona—?!”

The panic in his voice shattered the silence, and he rushed to your side. His movements were frantic—desperate. He ripped the phone from your grasp and flung it aside, hands hovering uselessly for a moment before one shakily pushed your dishevelled hair away from your face, the other gripping your shoulder to steady you.

The words he wanted to deny spilled out—disjointed, frantic—as he realized it was all in vain.

The ugly truth had been already exposed to your tear-stricken eyes.

── It’s…over.

As the seconds dragged, his thoughts unravelled.

Self-loathing crept in, feeding on his mistakes.

── I should’ve added the screen lock back.

And not have removed it in the first-place thinking that his hyung had probably seen everything and not cared to intervene because he had deemed it ‘unimportant’.

In truth, Asher had no idea.

Only getting the ‘report’ of all the bugged devices from the manager—the ‘background noise’ filtered out.

Yet, oblivious to it all—a part of Nex had foolishly, selfishly clung to the hope that one day—just one day—when his hyung wasn’t so busy, he might finally want to pull him out of this tangled "mess".

A mess he had created—but now had lost control of—as it unconsciously drained his very essence along with the drug addiction.

── But I should’ve known better.

── This…is all I’m capable of.

Causing pain. Hurting others.

Being a curse.

Being a monster.

The darkness inside him thickened, suffocating and absolute.

── Yeah. It’s happening again. ── Hyung doesn’t trust me. You shouldn’t either, noona.

── Maybe I’m not worth saving. ── Maybe I shouldn’t have been born in the first place.

── And perhaps...he was right.

── Hyung did end up this way because of me.

── It's all my fault.

His mind choked—as unforgiving guilt and self-reproach clawed at his soul, threatening to consume him entirely, making him want to succumb to the thought of no-return. 

── Maybe I should do everyone a favor and just di—

But then, the icy grip of despair loosened ever so slightly.

Your hand—warm, trembling, yet familiar—settled over his.

Nex could hardly breathe.

The suffocating haze of self-loathing thinned just enough for your words to break through, quiet yet steady.

“You need to tell your hyung about this,” you whispered. “I’ll make sure he helps you—trust me.”

Instinct took over, the need to hide kicking in before the maknae could even process your words. “Noona, I’m telling you, it’s all just a—”

“Stop lying to me, Nex.”

The sharpness of your voice cut through him like nothing else.

He faltered, the words dying in his throat as your gaze locked with his—firm, unwavering.

It felt as though you weren’t just looking at him.

You were seeing him.

The real Nex.

Not the mask, not the lies, not the cute image he clung to, terrified of losing it.

But the scared, fragile boy hiding underneath it all.

His breath stilled, and for a moment, fear twisted in his chest, suffocating him.

── No. She can’t. She can’t possibly—

“I know you and Asher are siblings,” you said, your voice sounding soft, resolute to Nex.

His heart stopped.

But then, with your next words, it pounded harder than ever.

“So, let me help you. Please.”

He stared at you, your words pressing down on him, grounding him and suffocating him all at once.

You weren’t supposed to know. And after knowing, you certainly weren’t supposed to be kind.

Betrayal, disgust, anger—those were the reactions he had braced himself for. Those would’ve made sense. Yet here you were, shattering the newly set expectation he'd barely readjusted to.

You were no longer an angel in his eyes.

You became an enigma—a goddess.

His benevolent goddess.

Someone who, even after uncovering the filth he was buried in, still reached out a hand.

And in that moment, something profound shifted within Nex.

He felt compelled—no, bound—to tell his truth.

To you and only you.

·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

Link for story so far: https://www.quotev.com/story/16788120/Secret-비밀

[caramelt4me]

Draft

Now, he didn’t feel guilty for seeking your warmth anymore. Didn’t feel wrong basking in your gentle, unfiltered affection—so effortlessly soothing, so maddeningly natural in the way it silenced the dark voices that clawed at him from within.

But, of course, that peace wouldn’t lasted very long.

The gurgling whispers would return—a relentless, violent chorus louder than before.

Like parasites, they slithered through his thoughts, indifferent to his pain. Burrowing deeper, twisting and needling, they forced him to reaffirm his loyalty to his brother—a loyalty that felt less like devotion in those excruciatingly long minutes and more like chains of despair.

[Edited excerpt from a draft chapter I'm working on of my novel "𝕊𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕥. | 비밀"]

[caramelt4me]

Hello, I am writing this post in order to address my own community but also give a heads up to other yandere game devs on Tumblr. This has filled me with deep dread and I feel like it needs to be spoken about at once.

TLDR: There's a community of over 1k people who are seeking real life yandere relationships and planning illegal actions here on Tumblr.

I recently discovered there's a fairly big community here on tumblr of people who are seeking "yandere" partners in real life and/or identify as "yandere" themselves. Part of me is hoping and praying to the gods that it's just roleplay, but the community has "IRL" in its name and there is nothing in its rules indicating that it's roleplay. Some of the people in there are following my blog.

To other devs, I urge you to discourage such mentalities and make it as clear as possible that we DO NOT tolerate this stuff.

To anyone who identifies as "irl yandere" and is following this or any of my blogs, block me this instant. What you are doing and encouraging is abusive if it is outside of a consensual roleplay or BDSM scenario. Purposefully isolating a person from their loved ones, kidnapping them, harming them (again, without consent) is abuse. Get the hell out of my community, you are not welcome here. I will not have abusers use my game or participate in my community. Seek therapy.

There is a difference between exploring a crazy scenario in a game and pursuing said scenario in reality. NONE of the stalkerish, obsessive, overly jealous things Keith and Tenebris do in the game are okay to do to a real person. They are not role models, they are not ideal partners.

And to people who are seeking out "yandere" partners in real life, for the love of god realize that your fantasies will not play out the same in reality. You are putting yourself and all of your loved ones at risk. No matter how much you think you can appeal to a "yandere" or meet their needs, that is still an abuser who may go to extremes one day. There was a damn post in that community asking for advice on how to turn someone against their family. Another asking how to kidnap someone and being praised for it. This is not a joke. Do not invite abusers into your life. It will not play out like your fantasies. You will feel unsafe and violated, you may end up in a very very bad situation that you cannot get out of easily. There is a high chance you may lose your life when the abuser decides they can't have you to themselves any other way.

And to those of you in my fandom who are well in the head and aware this is nuts, please report this community if you come across it. The age of entry was 16, SIXTEEN YEAR OLDS ARE IN THERE LOOKING FOR ABUSERS. I cannot stress how fucked up this is.

I really really really hope I just somehow didn't pick up that this was all roleplay. I hope I didn't just witness someone trying to plan out how to kidnap a real person. Please just let me be a clueless idiot.

[caramelt4me]

𝕊𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕥. | 비밀 (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/story/388629039-%F0%9D%95%8A%F0%9D%95%96%F0%9D%95%94%F0%9D%95%A3%F0%9D%95%96%F0%9D%95%A5-%EB%B9%84%EB%B0%80?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_myworks&wp_uname=caramelt4me [𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐈𝐝𝐨𝐥 𝐱 𝐊𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫] Asher, the beloved vocalist of "𝓣𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓓𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓼", the world's biggest K-pop group, maintains a flawless public image that conceals a darker, hidden life. Behind the idol persona, he harbors a forbidden secret: you, his lover, secluded in a cabin far from the prying eyes of fans and media. Caught in the crossfire of fame and a love verging on madness, he is willing to risk everything to keep you his and his alone. The line between love and obsession never seemed to ever exist, but the price of secrecy grows heavier with each passing day. In a world that idolizes perfection, will Asher's dark devotion remain hidden, or will his secret unravel, bringing devastating consequences to everyone involved?

[caramelt4me]

Yandere Idol x Kidnapped Female Reader

[Excerpt from my novel "𝕊𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕥. | 비밀": Chapter XVI]

There was something hauntingly familiar about the way you held yourself in that moment.

A shadow of your past self flickered through—the apathy barely concealing the raw, unbridled feminine rage simmering beneath.

It was impossible for Asher to pinpoint exactly what it was about that look, but it hit him—like a tidal wave.

His legs felt weak, his breath caught in his throat, and a forbidden desire clawed its way to the surface—

A yearning to submit, to kneel before you, to give you everything without hesitation.

The once dormant feeling violently awakened, sending shivers down his spine.

Why was he trying to resist again?

It wasn't like you were planning to leave him or anything. 

You were just upset and it was all his fault —

Something he deserved to be punished for, didn't he?

── ...Yes.

Asher surrendered, ensnared by the seductive whispers of his own manipulative mind.

So, what right did he have to choose his own punishment?  

── ...I don't.

After all, he was a "special case" as said—his mind, body, and soul only yours to play with.

── That's true. I'll do anything...anything for you, baby.

His icy blue eyes thawed in the consuming heat of obsession that seeped into every corner of his mind.

He nodded eagerly, a pathetic gesture, all the while sinfully savoring the playful mockery in your laugh—each oblivious chuckle a reminder to himself of his crippling yet intoxicating weakness for you—and how far he'd fall just to please you.

It didn't matter if it was sensual or not.

He just wanted to appease you—to be completely dominated by you, to surrender to your every command, no matter how absurd or unreasonable—as long as it meant you would stay.

And so, he did.

·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

[caramelt4me]

𝕊𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕥. | 비밀 - Important Update

Just FYI for the readers, I will not be posting the newer chapters on tumblr for a while--only on Quotev. It's mainly due to the e-novel format that makes it easier to post there than make individual posts here and adding chapter links. Perhaps, in future when I have more time (I doubt I'm too lazy for it but anyway :")) I will post the future chapters here.

But until then, if you want to follow the story, the latest chapters will be on quotev.

Thanks for reading!

[caramelt4me]

Secret. - Part V

(Yandere Idol X Kidnapped Reader)

Trigger warning: mention of sexual content, violence, substance ab*se, manipulation, power imbalance, unresolved trauma and angst

·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

Prologue Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

“𝔽*ck it, let’s just watch The Exorcist.”

Asher declared; his tone as casual as if he were ordering takeout.

He didn’t even spare Nex more than a fleeting glance, already pulling you tighter into his lap. His arm draped over your shoulders with the ease of someone asserting ownership, his breath warm as he purred into your ear. “Iconic, terrifying, and it gives me the perfect excuse to hold my baby tight. Don’t you agree, honey?”

Your ears throbbed with heat, a telltale sign of your flustered state. His amused blue eyes drank it all in, a smirk playing on his lips as if he thrived on your bashfulness.

Nex, perched awkwardly at the far end of the couch, cleared his throat.

His bandaged fingers were fidgety as the pink haired male hunched his shoulders –making him look like a guilty child caught raiding the cookie jar.

“Uh…how about something, you know, lighter? Like Howl’s Moving Castle? Or Paddington? Even Mean Girls?” His voice wavered, hopeful but clearly trying not to let his aversion to horror bleed through too much.

Asher turned his head slowly, the deliberate movement alone enough to make Nex regret opening his mouth. His piercing gaze locked on Nex like a predator sizing up its prey.

“Seriously?” he deadpanned. “You’re afraid of a spinning head and a little green puke? What are you, five?”

“It’s not just about me!” Nex snapped, trying to sound defensive but failing miserably as he faltered under Asher’s glare. “I mean, she might not like horror too—”

“She?”

Asher’s expression darkened in an instant, his icy blue eyes narrowing. “It’s Noona* or Hyeong-sunim* to you. Pick one.”

Nex visibly shrank, his bandaged hands clutching his hoodie strings like a lifeline.

“N-Noona,” he stammered beet-red, sounding like a kid in the principal’s office. “I meant Noona might not like scary stuff either.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Asher’s sharp tone melted away as if it had never been there. A disarmingly warm smile replaced the menace as he nuzzled into your shoulder, making you jolt.

“Besides, you don’t have to look out for my girl,” he said with syrupy sweetness, directing his words at you now, “We get enough romance in real life, don’t we, baby? A little possession and head-spinning won’t hurt.”

You blinked, torn between laughing, crying, or bolting from the room altogether. But Asher’s arms locked firmly around your waist, leaving you no choice but to stay rooted in his lap, acutely aware of Nex’s twitchy discomfort.

“Fine,” Nex muttered, defeated, sinking into the couch with a sigh.

The room dimmed as the movie began, the haunting tones of its score filling the silence. You tried to focus on the screen, but Asher’s grip on you was impossible to ignore. His chin rested on your shoulder, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm on your hip in a nonchalant display of possessiveness. It was maddeningly casual, yet unmistakably deliberate.

Meanwhile, Nex was visibly uncomfortable, his eyes darting everywhere but toward you and Asher. Beneath the bandages on his hands, you were certain his knuckles were white as he gripped the cushion tighter, clearly enduring the awkwardness and impending fear with as much dignity as he could muster.

For what felt like the hundredth time, you questioned how this once-postponed movie date for two had spiralled into such an absurd scene.

Your lover—who was seized by a fit of possessive jealousy, shamelessly embracing you just as you were about to honour your conscience, guilt-ridden decision to maintain a respectful distance in presence of his most cherished work buddy.

The estranged maknae—a recovering addict—who was valiantly holding onto his composure amidst a lovesick couple.

And you—your lover’s supposed ex-stalker—who had allegedly groomed him to become a temperamental beast in heat—were caught in the middle of this painfully bizarre situation.

It was almost too much to process for your fractured mind.

The guilt that had weighed heavily on your shoulders mere moments ago had evaporated, replaced by a suffocating wave of embarrassment—first-hand, second-hand, and every kind of hand possible.

You had anticipated something entirely different.

A serious conversation about Nex’s precarious situation, perhaps even a plan. Instead, Asher had swept it all aside in favour of this surreal bonding session.

What had gotten into him so suddenly? you wondered, shifting subtly in an attempt to wriggle free and occupy the open space beside your lover.

But before you could escape, Asher’s arms tightened around you, pulling you flush against him with a grip that made it clear you weren’t going anywhere.

“Relax, baby,” he murmured, his voice a low, velvety purr against your ear. “It’s just a movie. Nothing to be afraid of.”

His tone was deceptively soothing, but the way his sly hand slipped beneath your baggy T-shirt to trace slow, deliberate patterns over your navel made your breath hitch.

You weren’t sure if his words were meant to calm you, to tease the already uncomfortable maknae—or both. Either way, the atmosphere in the room only thickened as the movie played on, the tension as palpable as the flickering light of the screen. At least The Exorcist wouldn’t be worse than your current reality.

Or so you had forgotten.

As the eerie background music built to a chilling crescendo, a sudden, heart-stopping jumpscare flashed across the screen. Nex’s timid eyes darted away instinctively, too scared to even close them, his fear of the darkness only making the terror worse. He hated being the third wheel, but his gaze flickered toward you and Asher anyway.

You were not having a great time—trembling visibly as you flinched and shrieked at every scare. At one particularly horrifying moment, you buried your face in Asher’s chest, your fists weakly pounding against his firm torso as you cursed him for putting you through such torment. “I hate you—you sadistic jerk!” you hissed, your voice muffled against his shirt.

But unlike those ‘other’ days, Asher knew not to take your words too seriously. In fact, he was chuckling softly, his smirk as insufferable as ever. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry,” he whispered, though his tone made it clear he wasn’t sorry at all. His large hand rubbed soothing circles on your back as he cooed blushing, “You’re so cute when you’re mad.”

The maknae’s gaze lingered for a moment longer than he intended, watching your feisty protest. He decided, grudgingly, that he’d rather endure the awkward spectacle of your lovey-dovey antics than keep his eyes on the nightmare fuel flashing across the screen. But before he could turn his head fully, Asher’s piercing blue eyes darted his way, sharp and deliberate. Nex flinched and immediately snapped his focus back to the screen, the gory scene making his stomach churn.

In his peripheral vision, the pink-haired male caught the faintest smirk curl on Asher’s lips, and then came the words. “See, baby,” Asher purred, loud enough for Nex to hear, his tone playful but unmistakably possessive. “You’ve got me to protect you, even from scary movies. A kiss would be a fair trade, don't you think?”

“Who knows, it might even help distract you—! Mmph-”

It was a shameless trap.

Nex knew Asher was trying to bait him into stealing another glance, but he resisted, sinking deeper into the couch as if to disappear as he became visibly flustered—the soft squelching sound of your lips and Asher’s drowning the eerie background score for his utterly bothered ears.

As much as it seemed like Asher was being possessive, the maknae knew it wasn’t insecurity driving him. His hyung didn’t feel threatened by him—not even a little.

This wasn’t about jealousy.

It was a message, one that Nex understood all too well.

This was Asher’s way of showing how much you meant to him. Not just as someone he loved, but as someone he would protect at all costs. And anyone foolish enough to harm you wouldn’t just deal with his wrath—they’d face something far worse.

It was both a warning and a demonstration to him, painted in smirks and subtle threats, as deliberate and unnerving as the horror film playing on the screen.

The suppressed anxiety churned in Nex’s chest, resurfacing with an unwelcome ferocity.

____

Though the memories of the day he allegedly overdosed were hazy, buried deep thanks to the sedative Asher had injected into him three days prior, the consequences were all too clear.

One high dose had proven too much for his fragile body, leaving him slipping in and out of consciousness, unable to fully grasp his surroundings or his predicament—only catching disjointed fragments of reality.

“Wow, you really did a number on yourself with that drug, didn’t you?”

Asher’s voice, faint and detached, cut through the fog in Nex’s mind. His bleary grey eyes fluttered open briefly, catching a blurred glimpse of the raven-haired male with his back turned, murmuring almost to himself. “What were you doing? Mixing it with cereal for breakfast when I wasn’t looking? Your immune system must be utterly fried up by now to react so sensitively to just one dose (of the medicine).”

The words stung, though Nex couldn’t fully process them. Asher’s tone was sharp, but his actions betrayed a troubling concern. The blue-eyed male sighed heavily as he bandaged Nex’s bruised hands, his motions uncharacteristically careful, almost absentminded.

“I guess it’s better I got to you before the Old Man shipped you off to some real facility,” Asher muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Nex realized that his hyung hadn’t noticed him stirring.

Deciding it was safer to feign unconsciousness, the pink-haired male closed his eyes again, letting his breathing remain shallow and even. Listening silently, he tried to ignore the strange twinge in his chest at Asher’s apparent care.

It was confusing, this softer side of his hyung.

Asher had always been sharp, caustic even, especially after starting to foil his drug dealings a year ago. Tough love—more like a sick joke in Nex’s eyes.

But now, with the disinfectant applied carefully, the bandages snugly wrapped, and his hyung’s hands uncharacteristically gentle, the maknae felt his long-held hatred waver.

That is, until Asher’s voice shifted, his tone as cold as ice.

“But I didn’t think you’d sink low enough to come for my girl,” he said, venom lacing every word. “Really? A few grams of narcotics are all you’re worth?”

Nex felt the shift in the air, the tension so thick it was suffocating. Asher’s hands stilled briefly before he yanked off the old bandages and threw them into the trash with unnecessary force. The maknae barely had time to brace himself before Asher’s hand snaked around his throat, gripping him with a firm, deliberate pressure.

“Should I just end things here?”

Asher’s icy blue eyes bore into him, his voice deathly calm. “Why waste my time trying to tame a snake that shares blood with that woman?”

For a terrifying moment, Nex thought this was it. But then, just as suddenly as the pressure came, it eased.

Asher let go, stepping back and scoffing to himself. “But that would make me the biggest hypocrite,” he muttered, his gaze unreadable as he began gathering the medical supplies.

Before leaving, Asher murmured, almost to himself, “Guess I’ll wait and see if you try to bite me again, Hyeong-je*.”

The door clicked shut, leaving Nex alone.

Hot tears trickled silently down his face as his watery grey eyes opened, staring up at the ceiling. His chest ached, tight with unprocessed trauma and pain, but disturbingly, a faint, bittersweet smile curled on his trembling lips.

How long had it been since Asher acknowledged their shared kinship—even to himself?

Never.

Asher had always refused to recognize their blood relation, keeping their shared secret buried from even the members—forget the rest of the world. And yet, here he was, risking that very old secret to protect a new one—someone Nex hadn’t even met properly yet.

Truly, it made him extremely curious and a bit envious to know more about you.

The person who had managed to thaw his hyung’s icy blues and unravel his twisted heart even if only a part.

Yet, his innocent desire was quickly nipped at its bud, a day before he officially met you.

____

“What do you mean, don’t ask anything personal?” Nex had furrowed his brows, clearly confused. “How am I supposed to get to know her? Or even talk to her?”

Asher, unbothered, had barely looked up from the papers spread across the desk in the guestroom. “Don’t talk, then. Speak when spoken to.”

The curt reply left Nex restless, clutching the blanket around him tightly.

Asher’s sharp blue eyes flicked to him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Too difficult for you to follow?” he added mockingly. “Want me to help by cutting out your tongue?”

“N-No thanks,” Nex stammered, hating how easily Asher’s gaze could unnerve him. Gathering his courage, he pressed on. “Um..what if I am asked a question instead?”

For the first time, Asher’s gaze softened, a faint chuckle escaping him.

Returning his attention to the papers, he said casually, “My baby won’t. And if she does, you’ll know what to say. Just be how you usually are around others.”

The vagueness of the answer left Nex uneasy. He realized, with a sinking heart, that while Asher had dipped into their past connection to keep him in check, it was clear he wouldn’t let Nex use it to his advantage.

It was all about you.

Everything Asher was doing was for your sake alone.

Nex’s chest burned with frustration, bitterness curling around his heart like smoke.

“Why should I listen to you?” Nex finally asked, his voice low and defiant, his grey eyes hard. “You need me. I don’t.”

Cold amusement flickered in Asher’s icy blue eyes as he scoffed, studying Nex’s face with a mix of disbelief and disdain. Rising from his chair, he walked toward the bed, making the pink-haired maknae flinch and clutch the blanket closer instinctively. However, instead of making a move against him, Asher simply dropped a stack of papers onto the bed in front of Nex’s wide, timid eyes.

“Are you sure about that?” Asher arched a brow, his gaze sharp as he gestured for the youngest to look at the scattered documents.

Confusion shifted to shock as Nex scanned the papers. His breath hitched at the sight of detailed medical reports—blood tests, liver and kidney function results—with critical points highlighted in bold red. Interspersed among the reports were photos—clear portraits of familiar faces, grainy CCTV stills, and unsettling images Nex could already tell held damning evidence.

“I assume you can figure these out on your own,” Asher remarked coldly, gathering the medical reports and shoving them closer to Nex with deliberate force. “If not, let me summarize it for you.”

He pinched his fingers together, narrowing the space between them as he smirked. “You’re about this close to a full-blown liver failure. Which, in simpler terms, puts you this close to having one foot in the grave.”

Nex stared at the reports in silence, his mouth dry, unable to form a single word. His grey eyes shifted hesitantly toward Asher, who rolled his own in mock exasperation.

“What? Already losing me?” Asher sneered, the mockery in his tone biting. “And here I thought the withdrawals clearing up might help you think a little better. But hey, what do I know? It’s not like I can pump you with another dose of the sedative without sending you straight into a coma. So, bear with it, will you?”

The frustration in Asher’s voice was palpable, though it wasn’t entirely directed at Nex.

Beneath his cold exterior, an unfamiliar mix of emotions churned—regret, disappointment, and even… fear?

It wasn’t like him to care for the maknae. Contempt and indifference had always been his go-to emotions. Yet, seeing the results of Nex’s self-destruction had shaken something in him.

Not that he’d ever let it show.

The pragmatic part of Asher’s mind urged him to maintain control, to suppress the slivers of humanity threatening to surface. Perhaps, he would have to take the classic route of manipulation and blackmailing without much assistance from the medicine.

There could still be a use of a knight, even if wounded.

Meanwhile, Nex felt hot tears sting his eyes, the overwhelming weight of mortality pressing down on him. The reports painted a picture he couldn’t ignore—his recklessness had brought him to the brink. Even the faintest tremors in his hands reminded him of his withdrawal episodes, each one a stark reminder of how fragile he had become. Before he could stop himself, he reached out, his trembling fingers clutching the corner of Asher’s sleeve.

“Am I really going to die, hyung?” Nex’s voice was raw, his grey eyes glassy with desperation as tears rolled down his pale cheeks. “Please… please save me.”

For a moment, Asher’s cold mask cracked, his icy blue eyes flickering with something unnameable. Vulnerability from Nex wasn’t something he had expected, and for the briefest second, he almost wavered.

Almost.

Shrugging off Nex’s hand with practiced indifference, Asher scoffed, turning his attention back to the papers. “Are you dumb? I said close to dying—not actually dead.”

Nex flinched at the harsh dismissal, hurriedly wiping his tears and cursing himself for breaking down in front of Asher. Of all people, his hyung was the last person he wanted to see his weakness, especially when the latter seemed to revel in it. Still, there was no reprieve.

Asher wasn’t finished driving his point home.

“Now, if your own body shutting down isn’t enough to scare you,” Asher began, his tone sharp, “let me introduce you to the people who would make you wish you were dead.”

He gestured toward the photos of known drug dealers and shadowy figures. “Kingpin, Dragon Kim, Ghost Lee—ring a bell?” Asher sneered. “These are the lovely individuals—the big shots, you had been dealing with. Money in exchange for your stash. Did you honestly think these people played fair? Took me some time, but I recovered the call logs and texts they kept tucked away for insurance. One of them was already on his way to sell everything to the paparazzi before Baek intercepted him. Careless doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Nex’s gaze dropped, his fingers gripping the blanket tightly as shame bubbled beneath the surface. Asher, of course, wasn’t done.

“And this,” Asher continued, pointing to the CCTV stills. “A waitress from the club sipping one of your ‘special’ drinks. Here? That’s one of our fans sneaking into your little party. And this—,” he said with a particularly cutting scoff, flipping over a photo, “—is the masterpiece. You. Passed out in your own puke and sweat. Truly, a sight to behold.”

The image was a slap in the face. Nex stared at it, the reality of his actions crashing down on him like a tidal wave. He couldn’t decide which was worse—the incriminating evidence or the icy disdain in Asher’s voice.

“You really think you don’t need me?” Asher’s voice cut through Nex’s spiralling thoughts, low and dangerous. “Keep telling yourself that, kid.”

____

As the end credits rolled, the maknae sat several shades paler, haunted by both the horror movie and flashbacks. Meanwhile, you were flushed and light-headed, having spent the entire runtime making out with Asher. The culprit himself remained full of energy, his lips still trailing over your heated neck with unrelenting passion.

You found Asher’s stamina bafflingly inconsistent.

One moment, he’d be gasping for air after begging you for the sweet torture of your tongue. The next, he’d be ravenously devouring you—over and over—until you were left in a haze of lust and exhaustion.

It had reached a point where even Nex’s awkward, wide-eyed front-row seat to your steamy session barely registered in your mind. As Asher had whispered teasingly in your ear, the maknae was the “uninvited guest” in your home, not the other way around.

So, there was no reason to be polite.

A loud growl from your stomach broke the spell, snapping you out of the trance that even Nex’s wary, pink-haired presence in your peripheral vision couldn’t shatter earlier.

Embarrassed, you bit your lip, feeling heat rush to your cheeks as Asher chuckled softly.

He pulled back, withdrawing his arms from around your waist with deliberate slowness. His proud, mischievous blue eyes met yours, twinkling with delight as he noticed the clear disappointment written all over your face.

“Looks like someone’s hungry for actual food,” he purred, running his thumb teasingly over your bottom lip before planting a chaste kiss at the corner of your mouth. His lips lingered there, savouring the undeniable hunger for him in your gaze.

Stalker, was it?

Asher would make sure you wore that faux self-accusation as a badge of pride. There was no way he’d let you sink into self-loathing when every thought you had could—and should—be consumed by him instead.

“Nex,” Asher called out, his voice carrying just enough weight to catch the maknae’s attention. His blue eyes flicked toward him as he added, “I heard you make a killer grilled cheese and brownies.”

“I do?” Nex blinked, clearly taken aback by the extent of Asher’s secret info on him. He fidgeted with the strings of his hoodie before stammering, “I-I mean, yeah…”

Asher smiled faintly, turning back to you as he casually smoothed your slightly messy hair with his fingers. “Great. I think we have everything we need, so why don’t you show me how it’s done?”

“S-Sure,” Nex replied quickly, scrambling to his feet and making a beeline for the kitchen. It was clear he was desperate for the excuse to escape his third-wheel predicament, no matter the cost.

Asher gently eased you onto the couch before standing, stretching lazily as he prepared to follow the maknae.

But before he could leave, you cupped his face, your voice low and tinged with concern as you whispered, “I know it’s not my place, but… don’t bully him too much. He already seems shaken.”

For a fleeting moment, Asher’s sharp blue eyes softened in surprise. A faint blush crept across his face, but it didn’t last. With a sly smirk, he caught your hand, pressing a kiss into your palm—a lingering, wet kiss that left you flustered and breathless.

“Fine,” he murmured, his lips curling into a devilish grin. “But I don’t like it when you’re thinking about another man while I’m right in front of you.”

With that, he licked his lips and strode toward the kitchen, leaving you a blushing mess on the couch—completely alone with your racing thoughts.

‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

*Noona (누나): elder sister; *Hyeong-sunim (형수님): sister-in-law; *Hyeong-je (형제): brother

@shadowytravelerlover

[caramelt4me]

corruption kink is desperately underutilized with yanderes btw.

the love of a yandere is inherently twisted. it's selfish somehow, or harmful, or restrictive - it may be love but there's a fundamental flaw in how that love can be expressed or where it's coming from.

so if a yandere wants to be loved back, they wouldn't necessarily recognize love as it is normally. it wouldn't feel real to them.

no, they want to be loved the way they know it. they want you to love them how they love you, true love, love without boundaries or restrictions, a love they feel whenever they see you - they want you to feel that when you see them.

yanderes who manipulate you until you learn to manipulate them back. who bend you until they break. who lie until you know what questions to ask to get a lie that tells you what you want to know.

lock you in until you learn to pick it, foil your escape attempts until you start faking attempts just to get them on edge.

control what you say, what you do, until you start acting strangely compliant one day, smiling and amenable and so eager that you have to know how obvious you're being.

or maybe you go dead silent, empty eyes. not a single word for them no matter how they threaten or plead.

they starve you, so when they offer you food you refuse to eat. when they force feed you, things go missing, empty toothpaste or cleaner bottles, anything to make them panic and cause poison control.

they hurt people you care about? you know one (1) person they care about. and you'll hurt that person. you'll make them watch.

if you have no weapons then you will make them. you fill find some way to hurt them back, to take what they want.

it doesn't matter anymore. escape, protection, your future - you'd turn it all down for the chance to make them suffer like you have.

they ruined your fucking life. you couldn't stop them, but you can make them regret it, and you will stop at absolutely nothing to make that happen.

yandere who have no boundaries, no limits. they won't stop until you're just as crazy as they are.

that's what love is, isn't it? it never gives up, never goes unrequited.

yanderes who are not unaffected, indifferent. they care, desperately so, even if their superiority is assured. who want a reaction out of you, any reaction at all.

they relish the dance, and want nothing more than for you to join them in it.

their love isn't constrained by morality or kindness and they don't want you to love them like that, either.

it wouldn't feel real.

after all, if they were normal, they wouldn't crave the sting.

they wouldn't pursue someone who would spit and slap and pull away. the pain of rejection, how you lash out at them, every last agonizing moment of your ill-fated relationship -

if they weren't a little fucked up to begin with, why would they have done any of it at all?

you think you're hating them back, but all they feel is love.

[caramelt4me]

Secret. - Part IV

(Yandere Idol X Kidnapped Reader)

Trigger warning: mention of sexual themes, gaslighting, manipulation, implied violence and mental health ab*se

·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

Prologue Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

𝕋he muted hum of the TV filled the quiet living room as you aimlessly scrolled through the endless list of movie options, each flick of the remote accompanied by a restless sigh. Your eyes strayed repeatedly toward the guestroom door—still closed, much to your disappointment.

You glanced at the clock, taking note of the time once again.

Thirty-seven minutes.

Thirty-seven minutes had passed since Asher excused himself to check on Nex—a task that shouldn’t have taken more than twenty. But he seemed to break his own record each time.

It had been three days since your lover had dropped the bomb on you that the maknae from his work would be staying at the cabin for a while to recover from a near-fatal overdose.

Of course, it was understandable. You recalled the worried look that would occasionally cross Asher’s face when he mentioned the youngest’s spiralling addiction. Still, you couldn’t help the guilt-ridden frustration gnawing at you.

The cabin was supposed to be your sanctuary—a private retreat for just the two of you.

Or so you had thought.

Shouldn’t he have at least discussed this with you?

You didn’t like the idea of another man in your space, a space that was meant for you both. As much as you understood the need for confidentiality, you couldn’t fathom why Nex couldn’t be placed in a top-notch rehab facility that could handle both his recovery and the secrecy.

Sure, your selfless lover knew a thing or two about caring for those with psychological needs, thanks to you. But that thought only fuelled your irritation.

Were you just another charity case to him?

Was there no distinction between Nex and you in his eyes?

With a huff, you let the remote clatter onto the coffee table, abandoning your futile search for a film for your seemingly ‘postponed until further notice’ movie date.

But then, a wave of guilt washed over you as the intrusive thoughts spiralled.

When had you become so selfish?

Just a while ago—if you remembered correctly, you were the one urging him not to give up on Nex, to not let the drug scandal ruin his life—You had whispered words of encouragement, pleading with the silent disappointed Asher to give the youngest one last chance to fight his demons.

But that was then.

The last chance was over the moment he tried to overdose.

Your bitter inner voice justified the thought as you shut your eyes, attempting to will away the irritation and guilt with an angry nap. Asher wasn’t coming out of that guestroom anytime soon, and you knew it.

Your thoughts drifted back to the day five days ago when you had fainted—recollecting the time Asher had excused himself to take the call. It was definitely about Nex. It had to be. He didn't want you to feel guilty for trusting the maknae, you reasoned. But your mind wouldn’t let it go, dragging you even further back into memory.

You recalled a seemingly ordinary night, curled up in Asher's arms.

As your lover spooned you in his arms, his husky voice teased in your ear about how softer and cuddlier you had gotten while he had been away.

You nudged him sharply with your elbow—looking annoyed yet flustered as you warned him to not fat-shame you. But on the inside, you didn’t need an introduction to his azure love-stricken eyes as they lingered on your figure; nothing too remarkable or noteworthy apart from the self-doubt that stemmed from it—yet to him, it was an epitome of human perfection.

He kissed your neck deeply, his lips making sure to leave a visible mark—as in the meantime, his one hand gently unbuttoned the top of your nightdress, while the other tugged your hair behind to prevent it from getting in his way. Once he had free access to your cleavage, his lips moved to taste the soft subtle skin of your bosom—earning a little gasp from your bashful lips. Your little protests were as insincere as your blushing cheeks—unable to hide how enticed you were by the raw primal look in his icy eyes, as he nibbled on your flushed skin.

“You taste sweeter than caramel, baby,” He cooed in between, his tongue darting out lick his lips hungrily. “Tell me, what have you been up to really these past two days to become so irresistibly delicious?”

You cringed aloud at his cheesy line, your hands diving into his thick dark hair in an attempt to push him away. But it only made him cling tighter, his arms wrapping around your waist like a vice. His angelic face pressed against your chest as he took a deep inhale of your scent, his voice dropping to a needy murmur.

“I missed you so much, baby.”

His obsidian blues sought out yours, his fingers clumsily cupping your face as he gazed at you with a vulnerability that left you momentarily stunned. His proximity made your knees weak, yet the warmth of his embrace was your safe haven.

“Did you miss me too?” he asked, his voice soft and hopeful.

“Hm,” Was all you managed to say—the words caught in your throat as you suddenly felt too self-conscious to even converse properly. But that didn’t deter your lover from trying to get the answer he was looking for.

“Did you miss me as much as I missed you?” He purred lowly, getting closer to your ear—his hot breath fanning your flustered skin.

Your breath hitched, as you watched him lean back –his lustful blue eyes eagerly waiting for the words of confirmation to spill out from your timid mouth so that he could claim it in a heartbeat, but instead you seemed to have found another loophole—and nodded in quick approval.

Asher groaned in mock despair, resting his head on your shoulder like a child denied his favourite treat. Your lips curled into a mischievous smile, but you quickly dropped it once he looked back at you.

“Why are you always so mean?” he pouted, his nose brushing yours endearingly. Yet, your nerves must have been truly made of steel in that moment—to be able to glance away from his heart-wrenching gaze.

“I can’t wait to see you again the moment I leave your side,” he murmured, his voice a mix of playful accusation and raw yearning. “And you… you probably wouldn’t even notice if I were gone for a month or two, would you?” Your silence teased him, and his dramatic sigh made you chuckle despite yourself.

Alas, if only the past Asher knew how clingy you would get after not seeing him for two weeks in the future—let alone two months.

“Be honest,” he urged, his brows furrowing. “Don’t you ever watch my performance clips when you miss me? Fancams, even?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, masking your growing smile.

“The disrespect!” he gasped, before breaking into a grin of his own as he playfully tackled you, all pretence forgotten.

Perhaps back then, you should have told him the real reason why you avoided the crumbs of his life as an idol. Maybe then, he would have understood, maybe even been considerate enough to not leave you hanging in the living room while he disappeared behind the closed door to sort things for Nex.

But what could you have said, really?

That you wished, with every fibre of your being, for him to never leave your side—not even for a second? That the sight of others touching him, joking with him, sharing the smallest parts of him, felt like an unbearable intrusion? That you purposely avoided digging into his world, avoided learning too much about his group members or his public persona, just to preserve the illusion that he was yours alone?

Could you admit aloud that you felt a near-physical urge to keep anyone, human or otherwise, from getting too close to him?

Would Asher still love you if he knew what kind of creature you really were?

The thought coiled around your heart like a vice, a twisted cocktail of insecurity and paranoia. You told yourself he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Not if he knew the depths of your possessiveness or the shadows of your doubt.

Perhaps that was the true reason you were tucked away in the cabin—not for your sake, but for his safety.

You often thanked whatever force had granted you this gift of botched memories, your fragmented mind offering a second chance to rewrite the wrongs you were certain you had committed. In the shards of your past, there was one constant—Asher. That unshakable certainty only convinced you further that you had always been obsessed with him, long before you became his lover.

The thought haunted you—You weren’t one of his many fans.

No, at least not a real one.

—But perhaps, a stalker.

Someone who didn’t see Asher as an idol, but rather an object of obsession.

You were no muse like Mary from Guilty Files—but the depraved artist herself.

Had you wormed your way into his life, manipulated him, crafted lies so intricate that even he had believed them?

It made sense. It explained why someone as radiant as Asher would devote himself so completely to someone as unworthy as you. Surely, you had hijacked his heart, forcefully binding him to you in a web of manipulation. And now, it was far too late to undo the spell.

So, you stayed hidden. Out of sight. You told yourself it was penance, the least you could do. You convinced yourself to be content with the mere fact that he still visited you in the cabin, despite everything.

But the medicine, perhaps too effective—may have muddled your thoughts, blurring guilt and regret into anger and betrayal. A sense of déjà vu washed over you, leaving you feeling wronged, betrayed—only to come full circle as you remembered a version of the tale your fractured mind would patch together from time to time.

If only you knew that you had the whole story flipped around.

A wave of self-hatred washed over you. Guilt, the heaviest it had ever felt—settled in your frail chest—threatening to burst out and spill any moment then. The realization—even though faux, was a gut-wrenching blow to your conscience.

Panic set in as you struggled to breathe—your heart pounding in your ears, a frantic drumbeat echoing the chaos within. Hot tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision. You gasped for air into the endless void, your lungs constricting with each desperate breath. But just as the darkness threatened to swallow you whole, you jolted awake from your nightmare—gasping for air, before your terror-stricken eyes met Asher’s worried-sick blues.

Without missing a beat, your arms wrapped tightly around him, instinct taking over as you panted, your body trembling and drenched in cold sweat. The frantic rhythm of your kisses—pressed sloppily against his neck and cheeks—betrayed the panic clawing at your chest. You didn’t notice the soft nonsense Asher murmured to soothe you; the only thing grounding you was his warmth.

But then the thought hit you, sharp and cruel—

A parasite.

You were nothing but a filthy leech sucking off his life.

The word echoed in your mind, making you freeze mid-movement. Your frantic kisses stopped as you pressed your face against his neck, seeking refuge, too afraid to speak or to confront the spiralling chaos of your self-loathing thoughts.

Asher’s response was immediate, his voice calm and familiar as he cooed to you, one hand gently patting the back of your head while the other traced soothing circles on your back. He didn’t need you to explain; he knew the way your mind would play tricks on you once in a while to paint you the villain—when in reality, you were right in his arms, being lulled by him.

A bittersweet pang hit him as he held you, watching you mourn for sins you believed were yours—when in truth, the guilt was his to bear. The weight of his lies, his actions, should have crushed him, but instead, he felt a strange satisfaction as you clung to him so tightly, almost desperately—making him an utter blushing fool.

He couldn’t deny it—part of him loved these moments when your self-control slipped, when your nails dug into his skin or your teeth left marks he’d savour for days after. Those fleeting bruises became his secret treasures, physical proof that he belonged to you as much as you belonged to him.

He wanted to claim your lips badly enough, but then his icy blues flickered to finally acknowledge the elephant in the room—or rather, the awkward maknae, who was contemplating where to look while you two were getting comfortable.

As the bubble of intimacy shattered, Asher sighed reluctantly. He placed a light kiss on your temple before leaning back slightly to meet your oblivious, still-teary eyes.

“Baby,” he began, his tone gentle but firm, “I want you to meet Nex. He’s feeling well enough to finally come out of his room.”

The words lingered in the air as you reluctantly turned, meeting the maknae’s hesitant grey eyes for the first time.

___

The rhythmic crash of waves against the shore provided a soothing backdrop to the otherwise still evening. Damian leaned against the cool metal railing of his sea-facing apartment balcony. A wisp of smoke curled upwards from the cigarette held loosely between his fingers, disappearing into the twilight sky.

His dark chocolate eyes, shadowed by a tousled fringe, flickered over the screen of his phone. A quick text to Jay, a fellow soloist and industry friend, confirmed Theo and his attendance at the upcoming birthday bash. A brief smile played on his lips as he tapped out a message on Theo's behalf.

With a satisfied sigh, he extinguished the cigarette, the orange ember fading into the darkness. Then, he glanced at his reflection in the dark screen of his phone—running a hand through his messy hair, as a wry smile played on his lips.

“I need a bath,” He commented under his breath as he checked out his dishevelled appearance. Just as he slipped his phone into the pocket, a notification buzzed to life. It was from the group’s social media manager, a flurry of posts awaiting his approval as the leader.

He sighed lightly, a new cigarette finding its way between his lips as he ignited it with a practiced flick of his lighter and inhaled deeply.

Getting his phone out, he unlocked it with a simple touch—no password or ID to bypass unlike his industry peers.

A slight frown creased his brow as he noticed an error in one of the posts. A quick text to his manager, a concise correction, and the issue was resolved.

With a final drag, he extinguished the cigarette, the smoke swirling around him as he stepped back inside—his dark eyes flickered briefly to the clock, then darted—almost unconsciously—to the faintly blinking blue lights nestled at the back of his personal library and study table. Even hidden within a cabinet of his wardrobe, the surveillance cameras would have gone unnoticed by anyone less observant.

However, Damian’s expression betrayed nothing—his face remaining calm, almost bored. It was as though he had expected the intrusion.

Gathering a fresh pair of PJs from his wardrobe, he carried them under one arm while placing his phone on the study table. With a quick swipe, he connected it to the Bluetooth speaker. Moments later, the bathroom filled with an almost absurdly cheerful jingle—a playlist he reserved for his extremely long bathtime.

It was as if he wanted the not-so secret onlooker to lose interest over time—pay less attention to him at least during that time of the day.

The bathroom door clicked shut behind him. Damian’s sharp brown eyes immediately scanned the room, scrutinizing every corner and crevice for any newly installed cameras or suspicious additions. Finding none, he let out a quiet sigh of relief.

His fingers worked swiftly, clawing at the edges of a seemingly ordinary tile on the wall. With a subtle tug, the tile came loose, revealing a concealed compartment. Inside lay a burner phone, a plain black diary, noise-cancelling earbuds, and a few essential stationery items.

He retrieved the earbuds first, slipping them into his ears to drown out the cloying, brain-rotting jingle still playing over the speaker. Once cocooned in silence, Damian powered on the burner phone and unlocked it, the screen illuminating his features as he opened his inbox under a fake email address.

He was expecting two specific emails.

The first message caught his attention, and his brows furrowed as he read its contents. A quiet huff escaped him. Just as he had suspected—there was no record of Nex being checked into any rehab overseas.

It wasn’t hard to confirm.

A pink-haired, strikingly attractive Korean male, contractually obligated to maintain his appearance until the group’s next comeback, wouldn’t exactly blend into obscurity. Moreover, Nex was scheduled to resume solo activities in two weeks—a timeline that didn’t align with a genuine rehab stint. Damian’s jaw tightened.

Nex was missing.

And, unsurprisingly, the CEO was helping cover up the truth.

Again, for Asher.

Grabbing his diary, he jotted down the key details, his pen tapping rhythmically against the paper as his mind raced to connect the dots.

But why Nex?

Either him or Theo should have been targeted, if at all by the eldest—both the younger members were silent during the tense exchange after their last tour. Isolating the maknae made no sense, Damian thought, biting his nail out of habit in deep thought—when suddenly, his eyes widened as it struck him. Unless,

Nex had been foolish enough to mention the Cabin directly to Asher.

“That idiot,” he muttered under his breath, tossing the diary aside and grabbing the burner phone again. His mind couldn’t help but expect the worst.

He scrolled to the second email; one he had initially dismissed as unimportant. Anxiety coiled in his chest as he opened the message, fingers trembling slightly as he tapped on the attached PDF.

The forensic lab report loaded slowly, each passing second grating against his nerves. When it finally opened, Damian’s frown deepened.

The blood type matched Nex’s, not Asher’s—evidence enough that the maknae had been the one bleeding. However, there was no trace of unmetabolized drugs in his system. This ruled out an overdose before the incident in the bathroom.

But the next line puzzled him further. The white, powdery substance scattered across the floor wasn’t a narcotic.

It was sugar.

Specifically, sucrose and tricalcium phosphate—common ingredients in icing sugar.

For a moment, Damian stared at the report, thinking it had to be a mistake or some sort of cruel joke. He scrolled through the document again, searching for any mention of drugs, but all the samples he had discreetly swabbed from Nex’s bathroom contained only blood and sugar.

Sugar? Really?

Damian leaned back, tapping his pen against his chin. Something didn’t add up. He replayed the scene in his mind, recalling the smeared blood and the faint trail of dragged footsteps. Nex hadn’t been conscious when he was moved—of that, he was sure. But why sugar? It felt like a bluff, almost playful, as though Asher’s initial plan was to just mock the maknae into sense—but then he ended up kidnapping the latter.

“Too sweet of him,” Damian muttered, his voice laced with sarcasm.

What was the point of it all? Torture? Intimidation? If so, why risk exposing his secret by releasing the maknae just after two weeks? Was this just another round in their cat-and-mouse game?

Or was there something far more sinister at work this time?

The question lingered, a persistent thorn in Damian's mind. His gut, ever reliable, told him that the supposed ‘Cabin hostage’ was at the heart of it all.

Asher had been “well-behaved” for too long, even helpful in recent months to uplift the group’s image—like a ticking bomb biding its time before it exploded.

What if his meddling had been the spark to reawaken the blue-eyed Devil?

The thought gnawed Damian’s mind, twisting his gut with an uneasy mix of guilt and fear. He couldn’t shake the feeling that his attempt to uncover the truth had only fed the fire lurking within Asher’s cold, calculated demeanour.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Damian shoved the burner phone, diary, and earbuds back into the secret compartment. He pressed the tile into place, ensuring it left no trace of its existence.

Then, stripping off his clothes, he stepped into the shower. The icy water crashed against his skin, a sharp contrast to the heat of his racing mind. He tilted his head back, letting the cold torrent drown out the cacophony of theories spiralling through his thoughts.

___

The car screeched to a halt at the signal, tires squealing slightly against the asphalt. A heavy silence filled the interior, broken only by the rhythmic ticking of the dashboard clock. Damian sat in the driver’s seat, brown eyes staring blankly out the window, his mind elsewhere.

He was going back to the scene—back to Nex’s apartment.

Damian knew Asher and his ever-loyal right hand, Manager Baek, were fully aware of his last visit. Yet, it didn’t stop him.

Unlike his growing suspicion about Asher holding someone captive at a cabin, Damian had been careful not to let the other members catch on to one of Asher’s more disturbing habits—the on-and-off bugging of their phones and apartments. It was a relatively new development, cropping up in the past year and a half since the oldest’s long hiatus.

He had always made a point not to pry into the strange habits and obsessions of his members. Each had their quirks, their unique ways of coping with stress, and as the group’s leader, he felt it was his duty to preserve their fragile sense of brotherhood.

That’s what he told himself, anyway.

But then came the overheard conversations—Manager Baek on the phone with Asher, his words dripping with secrecy. Mentions of a cabin, of “her,” and of extensive grocery lists for deliveries.

The details painted a troubling picture—Asher was holding someone hostage.

With even a child, perhaps, he thought—misinterpreting Asher’s use of “Baby”.

He tried to rationalize the rest.

They were all teetering on the spectrum of insanity, weren’t they? Obsession, paranoia, secrecy—it came with the territory of their high-stakes, suffocating lives as K-pop idols. But even in his skewed perspective, Damian recognized that kidnapping and captivity crossed a line, even if substance abuse didn’t.

That’s where he’d made his first mistake.

He had voiced his concerns to Theo in the green room, hoping his hot-headed but loyal bandmate might provide some clarity. But before he could finish explaining, the other two members had walked in, overhearing enough to shatter the tenuous silence that kept their group functioning.

Asher hadn’t been there—it was one of his rare days off—but the damage was done. Now, Nex was missing, and Damian was certain Asher was behind it.

And it was all his fault.

If only he’d turned a blind eye, like always.

If only he hadn’t interfered.

The self-recriminating thoughts echoed as Damian stepped out of the elevator at Nex’s building, moving on autopilot, spare keys in hand. But his steps faltered as he approached the door.

There, slumped against the wall, was a familiar blonde figure—dishevelled and ghastly pale, he instantly recognized. “Clade?”

·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

@shadowytravelerlover

[caramelt4me]

Secret. - Part III

(Yandere Idol X Kidnapped Reader)

Trigger warning: mention of self-harm, blood, substance abuse, violence and suicide

·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

Prologue Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

𝔸s you laid unconscious on the bed; a crouched Asher watched you intently. A mix of guilt and worry filled his azure eyes as one hand tenderly stroked your head in silence, while the other hand held yours – the fingers intertwined.

Your breathing was low and long, indicating a deep sleep.

One of the several side effects of the medicine he made you take.

He sighed, withdrawing his hand from your forehead to gently pull the chair close, as he took a seat on it – his other hand remained interlocked in yours. His icy eyes stared back at your asleep face that looked peaceful, devoid of any inner conflict or distress from before.

If only he could make you feel the same always on his own when conscious, he thought. Then he wouldn’t have to take the aid of a mind-altering sedative.

Each dose taking away a piece of the old you – but this was his choice, his ugly way to claim you whole – body and soul.

He didn’t want to erase the defiant look in your eyes – no, he cherished it all too well. However, he wished the feeling could reside alongside the maddening love he had infected you with. But alas, if only one could exist – it would have to be the latter.

Then suddenly, Asher’s phone buzzed in his pocket. His brows slightly furrowed, his expression turning colder by the second.

He clicked his tongue and picked it up to answer lowly. “I'm starting to think you have a death wish, Mr. Baek. First you get caught by Damian and now even a drunk maknae is too much for you to handle. Is that it?”

“No, I-I’m extremely sorry about calling again Asher! I do not want to interrupt your time with um—"The manager fumbled on the other side of the line. “But Nex suddenly woke up from his nap and caught me trying to wire his phone, he has locked himself up inside the bathroom—H-He is asking for you and threatening to take his own life if you don’t—"

“What’s the status of the other members?” Asher interrupted, asking coolly. “Did you manage to access their phones before you dropped them to their apartments last night?”

“Y-Yes, only Nex was the problem—I couldn’t find it on him, so I went back to the club this morning—but it wasn’t there, so I came back to his place an hour ago, and it was right there! —in his pocket—I must have missed it somehow—but then he—”

Asher scoffed coldly, in front of you, unable to hide his perpetual frustration with the incompetent manager.

He had once made a silent promise to himself to only show his good side to you, and nothing else. Perhaps, it still counted as long as your eyes stayed closed.

His blue eyes glinted with frost as he retorted sarcastically. “Are you telling me that junkie kid played you like a fiddle in that state? Have you truly lost your touch with age, Baek?”

“I-I’m sorry A-Asher—I--!” Mr. Baek’s voice abruptly died before Nex’s voice grew into a muffled shouting in the background - demanding the older idol to return ‘the stash’ he had rightfully paid for.

Then, the delirious maknae doubled in on it, threatening to ruin the eldest’s untainted reputation with his death— and let the rest of the world know what kind of an obsessive control-freak of a monster ‘his hyung’ was.

The blue-eyed idol sighed, rolling his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Asher had never heard a more pathetic, empty threat.

Unless the youngest had a two-way access from Hell, an exposé would be quite difficult to pull without a suic*de note or an alibi. Of course, both of which would have been easily taken care of.

Still, it was amusing for him to hear the usual timid maknae be so –brazen and loud.

Did he really think he could gain the upper hand so easily?

Asher stifled a cruel smirk, before he cleared his throat.

“I’m on my way. Make sure he doesn’t stop talking, Mr. Baek,” The blue-eyed idol said nonchalant, before adding dryly. “Hope that long tongue of yours is of some use.”

“Y-Yes absolutely Asher! I will—”

Asher cut the call before the manager could finish his sentence.

He then gazed at your sleeping face, knowing full well that you wouldn't stir until the next morning. Another reason why he would normally prefer you to take the weekly tablets – since they had a lower dose and came with milder side-effects. 

However, this time, it worked out in his favour – buying him time to deal with his…problem child.

Not that he needed more than an hour with Nex.

A soft smile played on his lips as he turned his attention back to you.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against the back of your hand to leave a tender kiss. As he pulled away, his fingers lingered, tracing the lines of your hand before finally releasing their hold.

With one last glance at your peaceful face, he turned to leave – a soft click of the door echoed through the cabin shortly after.

---

The fluorescent bathroom light flickered, casting jagged shadows across the tiled floor. Another wave of nausea hit Nex, forcing him to his knees next to the toilet bowl. He clutched his throbbing head, fighting off the last remnants of a hangover.

His thoughts spiralled into a restless haze, and he could feel the cold sweat trickling down his brow. He was a mess—every muscle in his body pulsed with a dull ache that he knew was more than just the alcohol.

Withdrawals. Again.

The pink-haired idol cursed under his breath.

Maybe he should’ve just taken Clade’s offer, he thought, biting his lip anxiously. Slept with that pervert for double ‘the stash’—if only not for his damn pride.

But then, the little voice of reason whispered, reminding him that it would be useless too – since his dearest hyung planned to monitor them all.

Nex let out a frustrated cry—feeling like a prisoner in his own body as his bruised hands betrayed him –shaking uncontrollably, as he tried to hold one still with the other in vain. His heart began to race like an anxious trapped bird – pounding against his ribs with every beat. With a mouth drier than a desert and his throat parched raw, he could feel the withdrawals getting worse— his terrified fingers clutching his dishevelled pink hair in a futile attempt to calm his overstimulated mind.

If only he could get his hands on one sip of that laced drink, he had tried so hard to arrange for.

But, of course, Asher had intervened, just like he always did.

Then suddenly—

Knock-Knock-Knock.

The door rattled again, grating on his fried-up nerves.

"Nex, open the door!" a voice demanded. It was Mr. Baek, his tone laced with worry. He could almost see the manager’s anxious face through the thin wooden barrier.

“Don’t be childish and throw away the razor blade!”

Razor blade?

His mind went blank for a moment before his grey eyes noticed the fallen razor blade on the floor in his peripheral vision.

Right, of course.

The razor blade, he recalled in a daze; before he stumbled to grab it back in his hand.

He was in the middle of threatening them with his life, which seemed to have worked out in his favour—since Asher was on his way to his place, hopefully with his stash.

Could his hyung really be that soft for him?

Nex chuckled darkly, colour rushing to his cheeks – as he blatantly ignored the gory carnage around, that he had wrought inside the bathroom just to get the point across.

Broken tiles littered the floor, their white surfaces now stained crimson. Blood, dark and viscous, smeared the once pristine walls, creating grotesque patterns that echoed the chaos of emotions in his head.

His gaze flickered to his reflection in one of the infinite shards, that had shattered when he punched the mirrored cabinet before.

His eyes once bright grey—were bloodshot, haunted.

Was this why his hyung kept pushing him to quit? Nex scoffed weakly, a feeble attempt to deny the sobering reality creeping upon him.

“Nex? Are you still with me?”

Mr. Baek’s voice interrupted the youngest’s line of thoughts. “Please don’t do this! —Let’s talk, man to man!”

The pink-haired idol snickered. "Talk? About what? About how you probably bugged my phone already while I’m stuck in here? Or about how hyung ordered you to spy on all of us? Which one will it be, Mr. Baek?"

Silence.

What else could he expect from his hyung’s puppet?

Nex laughed bitterly, before his grey eyes had a cryptic glint to them.

“Say, Mr. Baek…how about we talk about something more interesting?” The pink-haired male casually purred. “Tell me, where does hyung actually disappear to every time we finish a tour? Does he have a secret family or something…staying at a cabin? A lover, perhaps?”

Silence.

“Who is she? Do I know her? Have we met before?”

Silence.

“Mr. Baek, you do realize I’m the one with the leash here, don’t you?” Nex sighed, idly toying with the razor blade in his bloodied hand.

Silence.

“Ya! I’m not kidding Mr. Baek—!!!" Nex was about to harshly blackmail the manager again, when he heard the door knob unlock.

Click. Clunk.

His grey eyes shot in the direction of the bathroom door—as it creaked open, revealing the familiar face of his hyung.

---

Asher ’s face was momentarily unreadable, before his icy blues met the maknae’s terrified grey ones – his unyielding gaze filled with silent judgement for the latter.

His lips curled into a twisted smile as he jingled the bundle of keys in front of the dumbfounded boy, making the youngest flinch and instinctively scurry into a defensive ball.

“Took me some time to find the spare keys in my car,” the blue-eyed idol remarked with a casual shrug, though the glint in his icy gaze was anything but friendly. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long, Nex.”

“Hyung...”

Nex’s voice wavered, barely a whisper, as he struggled to meet the older idol’s cold stare. Years of ingrained fear rooted him in place, his trembling hands loosening their grip on the razor blade he had been clutching. It slipped from his grasp and tumbled to the floor, landing near Asher’s polished shoes.

“Ah.” Asher bent down to retrieve the sharp object before Nex could. His experienced fingers deftly played with it, spinning and flipping it in a manner that was both effortless and unnerving. Unlike the horrified maknae, he handled the sharp edges of the blade with ease.

Asher’s lips twitched into a devious smirk as he chuckled. “I know a thing or two about these. Want me to show you how it’s done?”

“N-No!” Nex stammered, his voice breaking as he scrambled backward, pressing himself against the wall. His arms shot behind his back as if to protect himself, his frantic grey eyes welling with tears. “I-I’m sorry, hyung! I-I must’ve lost my mind—I swear, please don’t hurt me!”

“Hurt you?” Asher echoed, amusement flickering across his face as he crouched down to Nex’s level. He reached out, prying the trembling boy’s hand from its hiding place. The maknae flinched as the older idol inspected his bruised and bloodied fingers. A harsh chuckle escaped Asher.

“Do I even need to?” he retorted, his tone sharp and cutting. “And here I thought you wanted me to return your things.”

“Huh?” Nex blinked in confusion, his tearful gaze darting to the small pouch that Asher slipped into his hand. The faint weight made his breath hitch. His timid grey eyes dropped to the bag, only for them to widen in recognition and panic when they flicked back up to meet Asher’s cold, unreadable blues.

It was a packet of his stash.

Impossible.

Nex’s hands moved instinctively, fumbling to open the pouch. The addict was moments away from scarfing down its contents when something stopped him—a sinking realization that this wasn’t right. His trembling gaze returned to Asher, who stood over him with a sadistic glint in his eye, his expression screaming of a hidden catch.

“Y-You… you did something to this, didn’t you?” Nex stammered, his voice barely audible as he gulped nervously.

Asher’s smile widened into something more sinister as he replied, his tone calm and detached. “You’re right. It’s laced with rat poison.”

The pouch slipped from Nex’s hands and fell to the floor. Panic surged through him as he frantically wiped his mouth, even though the contents hadn’t touched his lips. His wide, terrified grey eyes bore into Asher, his disbelief mingled with desperation. “Y-You... why would you do that?!”

Asher tilted his head, his expression almost bored, as though the question were absurd.

“Didn’t you want to bring me down with your death?” he asked simply, his voice void of empathy. “I thought I’d help you out myself—make it as pleasurable as possible for you.”

Nex stared at Asher in abject horror, unable to reconcile the twisted kindness laced in his hyung’s words. His unease deepened as Asher casually slipped another pouch into his trembling hand. The weight of it was all too familiar. 

“Don’t worry, I gotchu buddy~” The older male said with a cruel smile. 

The maknae flinched, instinctively trying to pull his hand back, but Asher’s iron grip on his wrist kept him in place. Those icy blue eyes bore into Nex with an intensity that made him shudder. 

“Withdrawals can be a b*tch, am I right?” Asher sneered. “So, hurry up and take it. Or should I help shove it down your throat?” 

“N-No—I-I’m sorry, hyung! T-This was a mistake! -” Nex stammered, his voice cracking as he tried to plead his way out. Tears welled up in his terrified grey eyes as he bowed his head in submission. “Please! Please stop!” 

Asher’s smile faded into a thin line as he slid his other hand to the back of Nex’s neck. The maknae flinched violently, his breath growing shallow as panic threatened to overtake him.

Without warning, Asher grabbed him by the scruff like a helpless kitten, forcing their faces close until Nex’s terror-stricken grey eyes met his cold, piercing blue gaze. 

“Are you sure?” Asher purred, his voice dripping with mockery. “Are you telling me you don’t want to have it your way?” 

Nex gulped nervously and shook his head in frantic denial. 

“Great,” Asher said with a mockingly cheerful tone, patting Nex’s cheek with false approval as he released him. But his eyes glinted dangerously. “Then, it’s time to do things my way.” 

Before Nex could react, a sharp sting pierced his arm. His breath hitched as his bewildered gaze dropped to see the syringe in Asher’s hand, its contents pressing into his vein. Warmth spread through his body, an unfamiliar calm overtaking his trembling form. 

“Don’t worry,” Asher said softly, his tone eerily gentle as he watched the youngest’s shivers subside. “It won’t kill you. Just something to help with the withdrawals.” 

Nex’s wide, confused eyes darted back to Asher’s icy blues, which were now studying him with a cold curiosity. His panic only grew as his body grew heavy, his limbs succumbing to the sedative coursing through his veins. The maknae collapsed forward, falling into Asher’s cold, unyielding embrace. 

“I should’ve done this earlier,” Asher murmured under his breath, stroking the back of Nex’s head with lazy indifference as the boy slipped into unconsciousness. His voice dropped to a chilling monotone. “Killing two birds with one stone.”

---

Initially, Asher had planned to scare Nex off—just another round of their usual cat-and-mouse game. It wasn’t the first time. Nex, with his predictable desperation, was the easiest to handle. But everything changed when Asher overheard the maknae’s conversation with Mr. Baek. 

The conversation had devolved into a one-sided exchange once Mr. Baek spotted Asher lurking in the shadows. The manager wisely clammed up, refusing to divulge anything further about you.

But the damage was already done.

Nex’s reckless attempt to extract blackmail material confirmed what Asher already suspected: the youngest was the weakest link. 

Desperate and impulsive, Nex’s addiction made him a liability. Yet, that desperation also meant he could be shaped into something useful—a better, much more reliable knight than the old manager to protect you from the outside world.

The idea appealed to Asher, though he begrudged the effort it would take. 

Time was the real issue. 

Asher sighed, glancing at the unconscious maknae. His time was precious, better spent with you. He resented the hours this would steal from him, but a compromise was necessary. 

“Mr. Baek, a hand please,” Asher ordered, his irritation evident as he adjusted the dead weight of Nex in his arms. Though the pink-haired maknae had a baby face, his muscular build made him heavier than expected. 

The manager scrambled to help, and together they carried Nex to the living room, unceremoniously dropping him onto the couch. Asher sank into the adjacent seat, catching his breath. 

His phone buzzed, drawing his immediate attention. The blue-eyed idol’s fingers darted to his pocket, but his tension dissolved when he saw the notification. Just spam—not the home-security motion detector app. 

Relief washed over him.

As expected, you were still asleep. 

Asher leaned back; his gaze distant as he recalled dismantling the cameras months ago. They had been convenient, but their presence had hurt you.

Your mind—already too fragile due to being saturated with the medicine and his love, couldn’t handle the perceived invasion of privacy.

He hadn’t understood why it upset you so much, but he couldn’t bear to see you suffer. The motion sensors were one of the smaller compromises he would end up making. 

Because more was yet to come. 

“Cancel all of Nex’s engagements for the next two weeks and prepare the guestroom in the cabin,” Asher instructed Baek. His tone was clipped, his displeasure clear. “And make sure it’s quiet. You know how light her sleep is.” 

Baek nodded hastily but hesitated. 

“What now?” Asher snapped, his patience wearing thin. 

“W-What should I tell Damien?” Baek stammered. “I know that he’s only a leader in name, but if he finds out about Nex’s absence without a proper explanation, he might grow suspicious. He could even come here to investigate.” 

Asher paused, considering the point. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he replied. “Good thinking, Baek. Tell him that the Old man* got Nex checked into rehab. Overseas. Leave the mess in the bathroom; it’ll make the story more convincing.” 

Baek blinked, momentarily awed by the blue-eyed male’s quick-witted deception. “Y-Yes, I’ll handle it.” 

“Good~” Asher chimed, standing up to get to work.

He gathered the evidence—the syringe and the empty vial—and sealed them in a disposable medical bag. He then tucked it in a separate compartment in his sling bag, away from the unused vials of medicine and sealed syringes—something he always carried on himself in case there was an ‘emergency’.

The blue-eyed idol cast one last glance at Nex, his expression devoid of pity. This was just another calculated move in his relentless game.

A game designed to keep his most precious treasure, you, safe and hidden.

·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

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