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jeonjayykkayy · 2 months ago

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𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 I 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

💔 Genre:

Dark Romance · Yandere · Psychological Thriller · Obsession · Angst · Tragedy

🧨 Warnings / Triggers:

Yandere themes, obsession, toxic love, emotional/physical manipulation, mild to intense violence, force, non-consensual drugging, trauma, blood, mental instability, memory loss.

❤️ Pairing:

Jeon Jungkook × Fem!Reader

🧠 Summary:

He was her first love — gentle, shy, the kind of boy who gave her bubble tea and carried her dreams in his eyes. But she left. And something inside him broke that day. Now, years later, she returns — not knowing the man who watches her isn’t the boy she left behind. He’s changed. Twisted. Possessive. And he’s not letting her go. Not again. “You were my first... and now, you're my last.”

📊 Word Count: ~4k

Author’s Note: Well… here we go! This one’s a bit crazy, not gonna lie 😭 It’s got major yandere vibes, so if you’re into possessive, obsessive love — welcome to My First and Last.

This is actually supposed to be my first fanfic on Tumblr, but for some reason, I ended up uploading the “Her” series first (oops). Anyway! This one is intense. Dark. Twisted. Just like my imagination (jk… or am I 👀).

It would honestly mean so much if you could share your thoughts. Leave a comment, send an ask, yell in the tags — I read everything. Your support helps me improve and motivates me to write more often 🖤

And hey, if you haven’t already, please check out my other series “Her”. That one’s all angst and heartbreak, while My First and Last is pure possessive obsession. So pick your poison — or read both 😈✨

𓂀 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔽𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜 𓂀

Rain drummed relentlessly against the rusty tin roof of Jungkook’s small apartment, but inside, it was quieter than death.

His hands trembled as he reached for hers, gripping them like a lifeline, but they slipped through his fingers.

She didn’t look back. She didn’t need to. He already knew it was over.

“You’re really leaving?” he asked, voice cracking like the storm outside.

Her eyes were swollen from crying, yet they were dry now.

Numb. Tired. Gone. “I have to,” she whispered. “I can’t stay here, Jungkook. I can’t keep dreaming when the world is waking me up.”

He dropped to his knees in front of her, holding her waist like he could glue her back into the hollow spaces of his chest.

“I’ll do anything. We can run away. We can start over. Just… don’t leave me.”

She shook her head and gently peeled his hands away. Her touch was soft, almost reverent, but final. “It’s not about you. It’s about me. My family has made the decision. I’m just following it.”

“You said you loved me,” he croaked, voice breaking again. “You said forever.”

“I did,” she confessed. “But love… love isn’t enough anymore.”

His face contorted in pain, as if those words stabbed deeper than any blade. “Don’t do this to me. Please, Y/N.”

She stood like she was walking away from a funeral, her own. He chased her down the driveway barefoot, rain soaking his clothes, the mud swallowing his every step like quicksand.

He didn’t feel the cold. He didn’t feel anything—except the agony tearing through his chest.

“Y/N!” he shouted, desperate, feral, undone.

She kept walking.

He fell to his knees again, soaked and shaking.

“I’ll never love again. You hear me?” he sobbed, fingers clutching his soaked shirt like he could rip his heart out.

“You’re my first and last. I’ll never forget you. I’ll never forgive you.”

Her father’s car pulled away with her inside. The taillights faded like dying stars. And then, she was gone.

For days, Jungkook didn’t eat. Didn’t sleep. He sat in the same spot by the window, hoping the rain would bring her back.

That maybe she'd wake up and remember the boy who gave her his entire soul without asking for anything in return.

But weeks turned to months, and the silence screamed louder than her absence.

He tried to write letters. Burned them all. He tried to move on. Couldn’t.

Every girl he met had her smile. Her laugh. But none of them were her.

One day, Jungkook stood in front of the mirror and saw a man he didn’t recognize.

Not the boy who cried in the rain. Not the boy who begged on his knees. Something darker. Something colder.

His eyes weren’t full of pain anymore—they were full of promise. Not to forgive, not to forget, but to remember. To wait.

“I’ll find you,” he whispered to the reflection. “And when I do… you’ll regret ever leaving me.”

The boy she left behind died the day she walked away.

What rose in his place… wasn’t innocent anymore.

𓂀 𝔼𝕟𝕕 𝕠𝕗 𝔽𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜 𓂀

Seoul had changed. The roads were wider, the buildings taller, the people faster. But somehow, amidst the chaos of the capital, everything felt... slower for her.

It had been six years. Six years since she walked away from a boy who cried like a child and begged her to stay. Now, standing beneath the glass dome of Incheon Airport, suitcase in hand and silence in her chest, she realized how heavy regret could be.

The overhead voice announced arrival after arrival, the wheels of her suitcase clacking against the polished marble floor with every step. Her heels tapped lightly, her face stoic, unreadable—but inside, her stomach twisted in quiet discomfort. She didn’t know why.

Maybe it was the weight of returning to a city that once meant everything. Maybe it was the fear of seeing him.

The clouds were already bruising the sky when she made her way to Itaewon. Her fingers clutched her trench coat tighter, cold fingers brushing against her phone screen. It wasn’t the weather that made her feel like she couldn’t breathe—it was the street she had just turned onto.

“Café Moondrop.” Still standing. Still beautiful. Still exactly the same.

The little wooden door with the crescent-shaped handle. The warm glow spilling through the vintage windows. The faint sound of jazz that always played too softly in the background. She remembered it all.

And so, she stepped in.

The air smelled like roasted hazelnut and lavender syrup—just like before. She walked up to the counter, lips parted slightly as her voice came out like a whisper. “A purple bubble tea… please.”

The girl at the counter smiled. “Would you like the same one again? Grape milk tea with jelly pearls?”

She blinked. “You still remember?”

“You used to come here a lot,” she said with a gentle nod. “With someone.”

Her heart twisted. “Yeah,” she muttered. “With someone.”

She sat at their table—by the window. Third table from the left. Back corner.

She didn’t even need to look; her legs just carried her there, muscle memory doing what the heart refused to.

She held the cup of purple bubble tea between her hands, staring at it in silence.

“You wanted a drink that matched your nails.” His voice echoed in her mind. “Anything purple for my purple girl.”

She closed her eyes for a moment.

Then the bell above the door chimed.

Her hand froze.

The softest breeze, the faintest sound of boots on wood. She didn’t want to look. Didn’t dare to.

But the silence around her grew heavier and thicker—until she felt him.

She looked up.

Jeon Jungkook.

His hair was longer now, black and wavy, slightly damp from the drizzle outside. A silver chain peeked from beneath his oversized black coat, and his dark eyes swept across the café like a slow scan—until they landed on her.

He didn’t blink. Neither did she.

For a moment, nothing existed. Not the café. Not the drink. Not the people. Only them.

Then… he walked forward.

Not fast. Not hesitant. But slow, deliberate—like a predator walking toward the prey that never left his mind.

“Purple?” His voice was deeper now, more textured. She didn’t remember it ever sounding like this—hoarse and amused. “Still your color?”

She swallowed. “I... didn’t expect you here.”

He tilted his head, wet strands falling across his cheek. “This was our place. I never left it.”

A beat of silence. He didn’t ask to sit, but he did. Right across from her, same position as always. But he leaned in closer now—too close.

“You left Seoul,” he said, eyes dark. “And now you’re back. Did you miss me?”

The question came with a crooked smirk—but the intensity in his eyes was no joke.

“I missed the city,” she lied, her gaze dropping to the cup.

He let out a breath—half a laugh, half a scoff. “Still a bad liar.”

She didn’t reply. The storm outside had begun to growl. Raindrops started splattering against the windows, and the cafe dimmed slightly under the growing cloud cover.

Jungkook’s fingers drummed against the table.

“You know what I remember the most about that night?” he asked, eyes still fixed on her.

She didn’t answer.

“You were crying,” he said. “But you still left.”

Her chest tightened. “I had no choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” he said quietly, the amusement gone now. “You chose to leave me.”

She looked away, throat tightening. “We were kids.”

“No,” he said. “We were everything.”

The words struck like thunder.

The café emptied as the rain thickened. The sound of droplets crashing on the roof was louder now. She took a sip of the bubble tea just to break the silence.

“Still your favorite?” he asked.

She nodded.

“I used to bring it to your school,” he said. “Sneak in through the back gate during lunch.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“I got caught once. Remember?” he smiled—nostalgic and dark. “Your teacher told me I wasn’t allowed near the building anymore.”

She finally smiled, weak and tired. “You still came back.”

“I always came back to you.”

His voice dropped with the weight of something unsaid.

Then silence again. But this time, it wasn’t soft. It was sharp. Like a warning.

He leaned back. “You know what I wonder sometimes?”

She looked up.

“I wonder if you ever thought about me when you were away. Or if I just became a past you tried to erase.”

She couldn’t lie again. So she whispered, “I did think of you.”

His eyes narrowed. “When?”

“In the middle of the night,” she said, voice fragile. “When I couldn’t sleep. When I saw a boy crying on the train. When I saw purple.”

Jungkook’s jaw clenched. “Then why didn’t you call?”

“Because I knew what I did to you.”

His fingers curled into fists.

“I didn’t want to break you more,” she whispered.

“You already did,” he said, eyes gleaming. “You killed something in me that night.”

Lightning flashed through the window. For a split second, the cafe lit up—and in that moment, she saw it.

He wasn’t the same.

There was a storm behind his calm exterior. Rage dressed as silence. Obsession is behind every movement. He hadn’t healed. He’d buried everything. And now… she was digging it back up.

“I should go,” she said, standing suddenly.

Jungkook didn’t move. “Why? Scared?”

The question burned.

“I’m just—tired.”

He stood too. Close. Too close.

“You’ve been back in Seoul for three hours,” he said. “And you already ran into me.”

Her lips parted.

He leaned in, so close she could feel his breath. “What are the odds?”

She could smell him. Rain. Cologne. Something sharp and intoxicating.

“I didn’t come here for you.”

“Doesn’t matter. I came for you.”

She froze.

“I waited,” he whispered. “And I knew the day you came back… fate wouldn’t let you hide from me.”

She looked up slowly. “Jungkook…”

“I’m not the same boy you left,” he said, voice low, teeth clenched. “And you’re not the girl I loved.”

The rain roared outside.

“Maybe,” she said. “But I’m still the girl you lost.”

Something shattered behind his eyes.

Before she could move, he reached for her hand—just like he did years ago when she walked away.

Only this time… he didn’t let go.

“Don’t leave,” he said, softer now. Broken.

She stared at their hands.

“I can’t lose you again.”

She slowly pulled her hand away. “We’re not the same, Jungkook.”

“No,” he said. “But I never changed how I felt.”

And with that, he walked out into the storm—leaving her trembling, heart pounding, purple bubble tea still half full.

She couldn’t sleep that night.

The rain had stopped hours ago, but its ghost remained—clinging to her window like frost, whispering in every draft that crawled across her floor. She lay beneath her sheets, eyes wide open, heart pounding with a rhythm too familiar to ignore.

Jungkook.

His voice. His hand was around hers. The way he looked at her was like time hadn’t moved, like he had been waiting in that same corner of the café for six years.

It should’ve been just a coincidence. It should’ve been a passing memory.

But it wasn’t.

She knew it the moment she looked into his eyes. He hadn’t moved on. He hadn’t let go. And deep down… some traitorous part of her hadn’t either.

The next morning, she took the subway to her apartment viewing. New city, new place, new life.

Her phone buzzed on and off, emails and notifications flooding in—but she ignored most of them.

Until one name made her blood run cold.

Jungkook.

She stared at the message on her screen.

"You always wanted a view of the river. The building near Seongsu Bridge just opened up." “Apartment 1003. Ask for the key. It’s yours.”

Her lips parted. How…?

She didn’t reply.

But she went.

And there it was—a modern, high-floor apartment with glass walls and the exact view she once dreamt of. The Seongsu Bridge spread out before her like a ribbon of silver. The city below glistens. Too perfect.

Too familiar.

On the kitchen counter, a box waited.

She didn’t want to open it. But she did.

Inside: —A purple mug. —A packet of grape tea. —A note. “So you don’t forget who remembered your dreams.”

Her fingers trembled as she folded the paper.

She told herself she wouldn’t go. That it was dangerous to feed the past.

But the heart never listens when the ghosts wear the face of someone you once loved.

And Jungkook… wasn’t a ghost. He was flesh and breath and a storm that waited just outside the door.

She found herself at the bookstore next week—browsing old shelves, running her fingers along the spines of poetry books—when she felt it.

Someone watching.

Not a stranger. Something more intimate. Deeper. Darker.

She turned.

Jungkook stood two rows away, a book in his hands. His eyes locked on her like a predator finding the shape of prey it never forgot.

She took a step back. He took one forward.

“Still like Neruda?” he asked.

“I like quiet,” she said.

He smirked. “So do I. But only when it comes before a storm.”

Her lips twitched. “Is that what this is? A storm?”

“I’ve always been one,” he said softly. “You just never noticed.”

He walked toward her slowly. “Why didn’t you move into the apartment?”

“I never said I would.”

“You didn’t say no either.”

Her jaw clenched. “Why are you doing this?”

He tilted his head. “Because you’re back. Because you drink purple tea. Because your eyes still look for me when you think I’m not watching.”

She flinched.

He stepped closer, the air around them shifting.

“You don’t get to return to Seoul and pretend the past died. You buried it alive. I heard it screaming.”

Her breath hitched.

He wasn’t yelling. He wasn’t shaking.

But something was off.

The way his smile didn’t reach his eyes. The way his fingers twitched near his pocket like he needed something to hold.

“Jungkook—”

“I know you,” he whispered.

“Even now. I know what makes your breath hitch. I know you still sleep with music on. I know you like lemon in your water. And I know,” he leaned closer, “you never stopped dreaming of me.”

She stepped back. He didn’t follow.

“I’m not the same girl anymore,” she whispered.

He smiled, but it was more like a threat. “Good. Because I’m not the same boy either.”

That night, she heard her phone vibrate again.

“You left your favorite book behind.” [attached: photo of the Neruda book]

She never told him she was going to the bookstore.

She never told him what she picked up.

And yet… he had it.

Her hands shook as she locked the windows. Closed the curtains. Checked the door twice.

But deep down, a darker thought whispered something worse.

She didn’t want to let go of the past. She wanted to see how far it would go.

A week later, she had dinner plans with a friend.

She dressed in soft blue. Lip gloss. Slight eyeliner. She hadn’t smiled in weeks—but she tried that night.

Until she saw him again.

Outside the restaurant. Sitting alone in his black car, parked across the street.

She froze. Their eyes met through the windshield.

He didn’t wave. Didn’t blink.

Just… watched.

Her friend noticed her pale face. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she lied.

He didn’t follow her inside. But when she returned to her apartment, a single white rose lay on her doorstep.

A note attached: “You looked beautiful tonight. The blue suits you, but I still prefer you in white.”

She didn’t sleep again.

𓂀 𝔸 𝕎𝕖𝕖𝕜 𝕃𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣 𓂀

The sky over Seoul bled into crimson as she walked down the familiar road, the chill of evening brushing her skin like a warning. Minhyuk's voice was gentle beside her, trying to make her laugh, trying to chase away the storm that had lingered behind her eyes since she returned. She smiled faintly, grateful for the distraction, but her mind kept drifting. To purple bubble tea.

To the boy who had once waited outside this very shop for hours just because she liked the rain.

Now, the world moves more slowly. Her fingers tightened around the cup, and her eyes flickered to the shadows stretching across the street.

Then she saw him. Jungkook.

He emerged from the dusk like a ghost summoned by memory — except he was real. Realer than ever.

His dark coat fluttered in the wind, hair slightly damp from the drizzle, but his eyes… his eyes didn’t blink.

They burned. Her grip slipped. The drink hit the ground.

Before she could speak, before Minhyuk could understand what was happening, Jungkook lunged. A violent blur — fists, blood, bones crunching.

Minhyuk barely managed a breath before he was yanked to the pavement, Jungkook’s fist colliding with his face over and over.

“Don’t touch her.” “She’s mine.” “Mine.”

She screamed, tugging at Jungkook’s arm, sobbing his name — but he didn’t stop.

Blood-soaked Minhyuk’s collar. A tooth rolled onto the pavement. She felt something break inside her. The Jungkook she knew… he was gone.

Only when Minhyuk stopped moving did Jungkook stop. She backed away, horror etched in every breath. Then she turned. She ran.

Rain blurred her vision. Her chest heaved. Her feet throbbed. But she didn’t stop. Not until a cold hand clamped over her mouth and yanked her into the shadows.

She kicked, screamed, but his grip was iron.

“Shh, shh, shh,” he whispered against her ear, breath warm and twisted. “Why are you running from me, baby?”

He dragged her into a car. Her body thrashed against the leather seat. The doors locked with a click.

The car moved. She stared at him. “You're insane.”

He laughed — not bitter, not angry — like a lullaby gone wrong. “I missed you. Do you know how long I waited?”

When they arrived, she recognized the building. The apartment. Her stomach turned.

Nothing had changed. Same photos. Same lavender curtains. Same framed sketch she drew for him — their initials inside a heart.

“You kept this?”

“Of course. This is where we belong.”

Her voice shook. “This isn’t love, Jungkook.”

He tilted his head. “Then what was it? When you kissed me under this roof? When you cried saying goodbye? When you promised you’d come back?”

“I was eighteen—”

“So was I.” His voice dropped. “But I didn’t move on.”

She lunged for the door. A needle sank into her neck before she could scream. The world turned black.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains. Her body ached.

She tried to move — her ankle resisted. A chain. Subtle, but tight. She gasped.

“Good morning.”

He sat by the window, sketching. Like nothing happened.

“What did you do to me?” she rasped.

“Just a little something to help you sleep. You were hysterical last night.”

She looked down at herself. Her clothes were changed. Clean.

Her heart raced. “You’re sick.”

He turned his sketchbook around. It was her — asleep.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? Just like before.”

“You’re not him,” she snapped, her voice trembling. “The boy I loved… he would never hurt someone.”

Something shifted in his eyes.

She went on, desperate: “He would never kill. Never kidnap. No woman could love a man like this.”

Silence. Then — a crack. His hand struck her cheek. The sound echoed. Her face snapped to the side. A sharp sting bloomed. She looked at him, horrified.

“You… hit me?”

His pupils dilated. Regret flickered. His hand shook.

“I… I didn’t mean—”

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

“You’re not my Jungkook.”

He grabbed the syringe from the nightstand.

“What are you doing?”

“If the memories hurt you… Let me take them away. Let me start over.”

“No—don’t you dare!”

She lunged at him, but her body betrayed her. Weak, dizzy.

“I’ll never love you again,” she choked out. “You’re a monster.”

His hand trembled. He kissed her forehead, like a goodbye.

“I love you too much to let you go.”

The needle sank in. Her scream died in her throat. And everything went dark again.

“You were my first... and you’ll always be my last. No matter what happens... dead or alive, you’ll stay with me.” His voice was gentle, almost whisper-soft, as her head dropped limply to the side—unconscious once more under the effects of the injection.

The needle still rested in his hand.

Her fingers had slipped from their clenched position on his shirt, now sprawled against the floor where she'd tried to fight him.

He didn’t move her—not yet. Instead, Jungkook just stared.

And stared.

Like he was trying to memorize the shape of her eyelashes, the curve of her bruised lip, the little flicker of movement beneath her closed lids.

He sat next to her body as if she might vanish if he blinked.

Like a man in a trance. Like a monster satisfied... but empty.

He didn’t cry this time. The part of him that used to cry had died the day she walked away. Now all that remained was this raw, wired obsession.

His jaw clenched as he slowly got up, pressing his hand against the dented wall. Blood still trickled down from where he'd punched it.

His knuckles split open, a painful red contrast against the pale walls of the apartment they once shared.

The same apartment she had once walked out of.

But now... She was back.

Jungkook moved like a machine—clearing the broken glass, changing the bedsheets, wiping the traces of his rage from the room.

He tossed the stained shirt he wore into a bag, scrubbed the floor, and opened all the windows, letting in the cold Seoul air.

The scent of roses mixed with antiseptic, haunting and sterile.

By the time she woke up—it was the next day. The entire twenty-four hours, he hadn't slept. Hadn’t eaten. He’d just... waited.

She stirred faintly, brows creasing as the light bled into her vision.

Her lashes fluttered, head lifting an inch before she winced and sank back into the softness beneath her.

Then she gasped.

A sudden, sharp inhale. Eyes wide.

And the first thing she saw...

Was him.

Sitting silently in the corner, hands clasped between his knees, eyes glued to her face like some grotesque sculpture come to life.

The shadows carved his features in eerie stillness, lips curled in something like a smile... but colder. Something dangerous flickered behind those eyes. Not sorrow.

Control.

She bolted upright, the blanket sliding down her shoulders, breath hitching as panic set in.

“Who... who are you?” she whispered.

He tilted his head slowly.

“Where am I?! What am I doing here—did you... Did you kidnap me?!”

Her voice cracked by the last word.

Jungkook didn’t answer. Not right away. He just stood up, steps silent like a predator.

Her fingers scrambled toward the edge of the bed, trying to find something—anything—sharp, heavy, useful.

But there was nothing. The room was empty, white, and clean. Too clean.

He stopped beside her.

And smiled.

That same eerie, calm smile. One that didn’t reach his eyes. One that made her stomach twist and her throat go dry.

“You don’t remember me...” “That’s okay.” “We’ll fall in love all over again.”

Her lips trembled.

ƬӇЄ ЄƝƊ.

45 notes · View notes

stellarnightstalk · 1 year ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐀 𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞!

pt. 1

I think I took a little too long to upload

The smell of ink and paper enters your nostrils, the balled-up sheets scattered around your mattress as you keep writing in your journal, or, her journal.

To cure the boredom you've been attempting to write down ideas to get him to divorce you, but always end up with scribbled pages or the paper balls you have around you. You placed the bottom of the fountain pen on your pursed lips in thought, and started writing.

Idea number 14: Beg him so much to divorce you to the point he just feels pity and accepts.

Idea number 15: Murder him and keep the insurance mo— “Yeah, no.” You tear the page apart and crumple it into a ball. Standing up from the mattress, you walk to the fireplace that you have installed in your bedroom and toss the paper ball into the blaze. "Can't risk being framed for something I only thought of doing."

Two weeks have passed since the conversation you had with Cedric. The king's daughter had already made herself comfortable in the estate about a week ago. Ever since then, you've made it your mission to avoid any problems between the two protagonists.

But, in addition to the heroine living with you, ever since you asked for a divorce, he has taken the liberty of “not neglecting you” and has attempted to arrange that every single day the both of you meet up in the garden for some quality tea time. An hour, every day. Which made the whole situation more difficult than it had to be. So naturally you refused him, which in return made him bring you expensive jewelry and dresses every day, the room was practically piling up.

You felt yourself trip on a diamond necklace that you had forgotten you had thrown on the floor and you fell head first on the cold ground with a yelp. Speak of the devil. Standing up from the floor, you grabbed onto your forehead and hissed, “Shit, that burns.” You glared at the necklace below your feet, angrily clutching the expensive item and stomping toward a window. You unlocked it, flinging it across who knows where. “Stop sending me gifts that aren’t money!”

“Gah!” A startled yelp echoed. Peering outside, you caught a glimpse of a messenger boy rubbing the back of his head, then you quickly closed the window. “Oops,” It probably didn't hurt that much. You made your way to the bed and retrieved the journal, flipping to the very first page. There revealed handwriting that clearly wasn't yours, the cursive letters written neatly and precise, with each letter flowing smoothly into the next. The villainess used to write a lot in this journal, seems like she didn't have anyone to speak to. It’s mostly just angry banter, as you'd expect from a villainess.

A piece of paper peeked out from one of the pages, out of curiosity you pulled it out and were met with a small portrait of the villainess. She looked young, probably in her teens. Her face was serious, expressing how she obviously didn't want to be there. Quite adorable. You flipped the tiny image, checking if there was a date on the backside. Instead, there was writing.

You still hold the same expression to this day. Don't forget to write letters, I'm here if you ever need me. - With Love, I.A

"IA? What kind of code name is that?" If you remember correctly, the villainess never had any friends, so whoever wrote this letter is beyond your knowledge. Could this be a background character? It doesn't seem that important if he was acquainted with the villainess. But the words stuck with you—could you ask this person for help? They did say they're here if you ever need them. But you don't even know who they are. Did the villainess trust this stranger?

Someone knocked on your door gently. “Your Grace?” You quickly hid the journal under the bed, grabbing all the paper balls in your arms and throwing them into the furnace to dispose of them fast. Out of breath, you sat on the bed, “Um… Your Grace?” The person repeated and you cleared your throat. “Come in.” You straightened your posture, as if you had just woke up.

The door gently opened, revealing a young maid. She bowed, her light brown bangs were covering her eyes. You hadn’t been in this place for long, but you think you knew all the people that worked here. She was new, you were sure of it. But why does she look so familiar?

“Good evening, Your Grace. The Duke has sent me after you for tea time,” she said with a slight tremble. Gosh, of course. “Tell him I won’t be there.” You stood up, striding to a luxurious vanity next to your bed, you looked at the mirror and touched your face. You never get used to the face. Changing your stare to the maid you noticed her narrowing her eyes from your gaze. You raised an eyebrow, “I'm sure that won't be a problem.” She gripped the handle, “Well, um, the thing is—”

She opened the door completely, revealing a variety of boxes stacked on top of each other. “He instructed me that if you disagreed, to hand over all of these.” You deadpanned. Of course, he’d do the same shit. “Should I… Bring it in?” She asked nervously but you raised a hand, rubbing your temple with the other. “No, there’s no need.” You sighed, getting to your feet and walking towards her, “Take me to my husband.” You mentally cringed at your words. “Of course, Your Grace!” She made her way around the boxes and placed her hands in front of her, accompanying you to Cedric, but you couldn't shake off the feeling that you recognized her.

“I have a question for you,” you started, making her slightly flinch at your words, ”What is your question, Your Grace?” She gulped, it looked like she was nervous. You're sure by that reaction that the rumors of the villainess had reached her ears, they all enjoy gossiping. “What is your name?”

“My name?” She tilted her head, confused by the sudden question but then she shook her head, terrified once more. “Apologies. My name is Edith,” She managed to stutter out.

Edith? That was the name of the villainess's most loyal maid. You examined her from top to bottom, earning a gulp from her. She was nothing like the novel described, she was squirmish and timid, while in the novel she was serious and brazen, which was the reason the villainess was interested in her. No wonder you didn't recognize her, she's a completely different character. But how?

“Which residence did you come from?” You decided to keep prying her with questions, if she was the villainess's most loyal servant you’d like to get her on your side. The correct answer on her part is that she came from a residence that the Duke conquered and that she was practically born to be a servant her whole life.

“I came with Her Highness, Your Grace.”

What? No, she didn't. You've read that novel like five times you practically have all the details memorized. There's no way in hell that she came with the princess, she still has the rights of a commoner. Since she hasn't been crowned, she didn't come with maids, she got appointed them after. Did you forget? Are you slowly losing your old memories, including the novel?

You bit your nails anxiously. One thing is for the course of the plot to be changed because of your actions since you reincarnated, but the land the Duke conquered was long before you came here. You couldn't have changed it because you weren't even there to alter it, it should have been like the story described it to be.

“Are you… Sure?” She looked at you perplexed, the question was dumb, and you knew that, but maybe she heard you wrong. “Um, yes, Your Grace.” Her voice cracked, so she cleared her throat, “I'm positive I came with the princess, I was with her in the carriage on her way here.” You shouldn't have been!

“You two must be close for you to ride in the same carriage as her.” Deny, deny! You thought, instead she looked away sheepishly. “Well, me and Ann— I mean, the princess and I have been close since childhood.” Childhood? You don't have a childhood! Edith was born into work and didn't have time for friends, which was why she kept to herself.

This situation was worse than you had anticipated. Edith was a significant asset to the villainess, and you needed her to be by your side. You opened your mouth to speak, but stopped when you realized that you had arrived at your destination. The place you were in was a greenhouse that belonged to the Duke. It was beautiful from the outside, and you wouldn't be surprised if it was just as stunning on the inside. Cedric always spent his time here; it was his safe place, but he never let the villainess enter. What had changed now?

Edith opened the gates of the greenhouse and went inside, you followed suit, taking in the view. The flowers looked beautiful, it was apparent that they were being taken care of very well. As you looked around your eyes were met with Cedric, his signature serious expression on his face made you sigh in response. It looks like he didn't notice you were here yet.

“Duke Ironheart, the Duchess has arrived.” Said Edith, bowing with a slight tremble. His head turned to you quickly, you swore you heard a slight crack when he did. Cedric cleared his throat before speaking, “Good, you may leave us be. Stand outside with the others.” He said to Edith, which she in return quickly nodded and walked at a fast pace outside the greenhouse.

Before you could say anything, he spoke up, extending his hand at the chair in front of him. “Have a seat.”

You gulped in an attempt to get rid of an anxious lump. “Right, of course.”

——➻

Grabbing the teacup in front of you, you sipped it carefully. As you did, an overwhelming taste of bitterness invaded your mouth, making you cough at the unexpected flavor as you placed the teacup down.

“This tea,” You began, clearing your throat, “is it a new blend? I've never tried it.” You looked at the male in front of you. “Is it not to your liking?”Cedric spoke.

“It’s a bit bitter but nothing I can’t handle.” You replied to the man, grabbing the teacup to sip from it once more. He stared at you and suddenly clasped the top of your teacup, slightly bumping his gloved knuckles into your nose. The hell?

“I reckoned you liked this kind of tea.” He took the tea from you and sipped it himself. His eye twitched. “My mistake. It appears that it is too bitter for the intended taste.” He glared beside him, making the maids flinch and look the other way, then he looked back at you. “Do not force yourself to drink something you dislike. Throw a tantrum as you did, or anything.” He declared sternly, which made it seem like he was ordering you to do it. He says that so easily but whenever the villainess threw tantrums he’d always put her on probation or give her the silent treatment.

“Take the tea away, fetch something less bitter.” He said to the maids without a look, pointing at your cups. They took it, eagerly nodding and going their merry way. You watched them leave the garden with a sigh, “Your Grace, I was just fine with the previous tea.” Your words came out with a twinge of irritation, he simply crossed his arms.

“You don't address me by my name anymore.” He said, changing the subject. “Is that a problem?” You feign innocence, tilting your head to display your confusion. A hum could be heard from him due to your response, making you shift uncomfortably in your seat. The exchange ended there.

As you both sat beneath the shade of a weeping willow, the space between you two was now crammed with an uncomfortable silence. You tapped your finger on the table anxiously, looking towards the flowers on your left. Does the duke have a staring problem? You've been sensing his gaze ever since the maids left as if he's analyzing your soul or something.

"The flowers are in full bloom," you said, just to break the uncomfortable stillness. “It looks quite beautiful.” He hummed at your words, "You've noticed," he said with a subtle smile, which surprised you. "How could I not?" you chuckled, stopping when you felt his piercing gaze once more. "You weren't one to notice these kinds of things." Damn, you forgot about that. "I suppose I'm catching a glimpse of the more beautiful things in life." He gazed at the flowers and then at you. He stayed like that for a few seconds. "I suppose I am too," Cedric responded and you gave him an awkward smile, and once more, there was now uneasy silence.

As you glanced sideways, a cluster of vibrant daffodils caught your attention. You weren't lying when you said that the sight of the flowers was beautiful, especially against the environment of spring.

“The King is planning to hold a grand ball,” Cedric spoke up, choosing to break the silence, which came across as out of character for him. “Is that so?” You answered back with a hum, crossing your legs. “You will attend, of course. It would be unseemly for the Duchess to absent herself from such an important event.”

Right, the villainess was known for skipping out on balls that she thought held no interest for her. And when she did go, she’d always somehow be the center of attention, in considerably nasty ways.

Now that you recall, in the novel, the princess was exceptionally skilled and was able to learn etiquette at a fast pace, but since she was raised as a commoner she didn't know how to read or write, which caused her to stay for longer. Thus Cedric stepped in to help her, and she was able to learn quickly as well, which caught his attention more and made him develop deeper feelings of curiosity. Since the kingdom did not know yet of the princess's existence he decided to organize a ball to introduce his heir to the throne, which would also be her coming-of-age ceremony.

“Is there a specific reason for the decision?” You questioned him, seeking closure if your suspicions were correct. Your eagerness to continue the conversation appears to please him.

“The Princess has learned sufficiently.” He explained, earning a look from you, intrigued. He held a subtle smile when you did. “His Majesty has made the decision to ultimately make it known of his heir, it is also the Princess’s coming of age as well. He has sent us an invitation to attend.” So you were right. When he concluded his words, he handed you the invitation, which you snatched quickly. It held a golden lion engraved on its side, confirmation that it was sent from the royal household.

The grand ball exists as a monumental scene from the novel, that’s where the villainess tosses wine on the princess’s gown because Cedric asked her to dance instead of the villainess. When questioned, she cried out that the princess was a harlot who sought to steal her husband. Which resulted in Cedric lashing out at the villainess and taking the teary-eyed heroine to the royal garden. This is where they have a moment to exchange their feelings in silence, when the cold-hearted duke finally learns to trust another.

“When is it taking place?” You questioned, switching your stare from the invitation to him, placing the envelope on the table. “In three days.” He simply said, resting his cheek on his hand.

Your eyes widened, In three days? It’s only been a week. In that time the princess hasn't even learned how to read, let alone write. Cedric noticed your reluctance to speak, “Is that a problem?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow. “No, not at all. Just a bit surprised is all.” “Why so surprised?” Why so many questions? You mentally scowled. “It’s only been a week since the princess has been staying in the dukedom, yet she's already leaving.”

It’s just too sudden, you don't think you're mentally prepared. Maybe you could call in sick? Knowing Cedric he’ll probably call a thousand physicians and when he finds out you were lying he’ll put you on probation in the same ways he did to the villainess, or even worse, execute you for daring to disrespect him.

“I am the one who recommended the king to do it as momentarily as possible.” So you can cut off my head sooner?! “May I ask why you suggested that?” You asked sincerely, holding the ball in two days means that the princess will leave earlier than intended. That's not supposed to happen.

Some really important scenes were supposed to happen before the ball. The random count who was trying to court the female lead hasn't been introduced, which means he hasn't had confusing feelings of jealousy yet. That's why he asked the princess for a dance at the ball instead of the villainess. Or the slip-and-catch trope where she slipped while walking and landed on his massive chest creating unresolved tension for 3 whole pages.

Could it be that the plot is moving on faster than intended? Or not even happening at all?

He gazed at you with a blank stare for a moment without uttering a word. His expression became murky as he crossed his arms and leaned his head back onto the chair. “No particular reason.”

“Why? Are you jealous?” He questioned with a tilt of his head, his gaze boring into you. You deadpanned.

"What? No, of course not. Why would I be?" you replied bluntly. “It brings me joy that the princess has been able to learn quickly actually.” You smiled, “She must be a very clever lady.” Too clever, can't she slow it down a bit? You're trying to get you both a happy ending.

“You haven't met her, yet you are here praising her.” The furrowed eyebrows he had caught your attention. “Is there a problem with me complimenting the princess?” In the novel, Cedric is a very jealous man. But does he really feel jealous of another woman complimenting the female lead too? Weirdo.

“No, forget I said anything.” Gladly. And for the third time, again, silence. But it was for the better, you didn't want to speak for longer than you had to. This conversation was long enough for you to ignore him for about two weeks, it's draining to speak in such a royal matter, you always confuse your words.

But it made you anxious, the silence. Almost like he was scheming something, planning your execution right in front of you without your knowledge. What you would give just to have a look inside his mind, to know what he's pondering. Couldn't the villainess have powers? They debuffed her character just for the protagonist's plot armor.

Cedric was about to speak, but he was interrupted by the opening gates of the garden, which you assumed were the maids bringing out the newly brewed tea. "Thank you for the tea," You declared, making yourself more comfortable in the seat. "You're free to excuse yourself." You added, then changed your gaze to look at the person in front of you.

“Your Grace,” the maid bowed, her voice trembling slightly, a tray of tea resting in her hands. “Princess Annabeth has arrived. She has brewed you both some tea.”

Your eyes widened at the sight before you, the lady in front of you was in fact, a maid as you thought it had been, but she was accompanied by another. “Your Highness.” Spoke out Cedric, his stare now fully concentrated on the girl. “Good evening, Your Grace.” The young girl said with a radiant smile, the dimples on her cheek in full view. Her golden curls lay neatly on her face, confirming that she was the king's daughter since blonde hair was a sign of royal blood. Her emerald eyes looked directly at Cedric, and your eyes looked directly at her. The descriptions of her beauty in the novel were not exaggerated in the slightest.

Thump.

Grabbing onto your chest, you suddenly felt a familiar pang of jealousy. It was the same jealousy she had felt in the novel, shit. This must be the villainess's body reacting to her presence. You took a deep breath and tried to control yourself. This body had reactions that you couldn't control at all, when you reincarnated it didn't just come with her looks, it came with everything intact. Causing you to have out-of-control emotions, her emotions. This could be difficult to manage.

The female lead, Annabeth, was right in front of you, her hands behind her back. She looked like a young teenager, which made you remember that in the story she had just turned 18.

"I appreciate your help, Belda. You may excuse yourself," Annabeth said to the maid, whom you now know as Belda. “Of course.” She nodded, placing the tray on the table. Then made her way out of the room, closing the door with a bang, leaving the three of you alone. Cedric spoke up, not wasting a moment of silence.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were practicing your writing, as I had told you to do.” his words made Annabeth chuckle. You saw her tuck a curl behind her ear, placing her hands behind her back. “It’s my break time from practicing so that I can regain my focus,” She paused, slightly glancing at you. “In the meantime, I wanted for you two to try my new blend of tea.” She admitted, shifting her gaze from you to Cedric. Her eyes widened.

“I’m sorry, did I interrupt something? I can leave.” Annabeth said as she exchanged stares with the both of you. Cedric instantly spoke up, “Yes, actu—” Getting to your feet, you left his words unfinished, “Of course not, would you like to join us?” He looked at you with widened eyes, furrowing his eyebrows. ”I'm sure the princess has more significant things to do than tea.” He said it to you, but he was probably directing it to the princess as well. Damn, this slow-burn novel is burning good, too good. Fall in love already!

“She brewed us some tea, it's only natural to let her try some with us. It's proper manners," Cedric clenched his jaw at your words and then sighed. "Fine, as you wish." He ran his hands across his hair with a huff, crossing his arms afterward. Well, that was quick. You didn't even have to repeat it. You sat back down in content and patted the space beside you. His eyes narrowed at your gloved hand. "Take a seat, Your Highness. It's big enough for both of us.”

Annabeth raised her eyebrows, tightening her lips as she stared at the plush that lay below your hand. She looked as if she was lost in thought. “Your Highness?” You called out to her, which snapped her out of whatever thought she was in. “My apologies, yes, I'll sit. Thank you.” She gave a warm enigmatic smile. You squinted your eyes as a sudden radiant glow beamed around her. Damn, why is it so bright! She only just smiled!

“It’s no worries, no need to thank me.” You returned the smile, which resulted in a scoff from a neglected Cedric. Is he jealous or just annoyed? Maybe the plot is on its course after all, just differently.

“Allow me to serve you the tea I've brewed, my father sent me these tea leaves.” She said as she grabbed the teapot, standing up and pouring the tea for the three of you. Your cup being the last she poured. “I hope it’s to your liking.” She said with a smile directed at you. Cedric sneered and grabbed his cup, taking a sip, and so did you.

“Too sweet.” “It’s pretty good.” You and Cedric both looked at each other. It wasn’t a lie, the tea was good, just made your throat a bit itchy.

“I thought you weren't fawn of such sweet things.” He commented with a stern look, you gulped. “Change of heart?” You chuckle nervously. Damn, you forgot the villainess hated sweet things.

Annabeth covered her mouth and laughed, “Guess I put too much lemon verbena.” Cedric's eyes widen and he snatches your cup, throwing it on the ground. It shatters from the impact. You both look at him in shock and he slams his hands on the table, glaring at Annabeth. “What’s wrong, Your Grace?” She asked with furrowed brows, fidgeting with her hands.

“Are you trying to kill my wife?” Annabeth’s eyes widen and she looks at you, and then at him. “Wh-What do you mean? I would nev—” “Don’t lie to me!” He cuts her off, standing up abruptly, making her flinch.

“Cedric!” You called out, standing up and putting your hand in front of the princess, blocking her from him. He stares at you and raises his eyebrow, you see him gulp. “What do you mean kill me?” “How could you not—” He stops himself, staring at Annabeth and then at you. He grabs your wrist and with no word drags you out of the garden, leaving Annabeth behind. You try to object but to no avail. You look back for a split second to see the princess teary-eyed, and then the gates closed.

“Your Grace!” You call out to him, pulling your arm back from him, you two are already far from the garden. He turns around, “We need to get the doctor, quit resisting!” You cleared your throat, the itchiness of your throat was getting worse.

“Doctor? Why would I need a doct—” Before you finished, you suddenly got a pounding headache, making you wince and trip towards Cedric's chest. Now that you realize it, ever since you drank that tea you have been having difficulty breathing. You wheezed, your throat suddenly feeling much tighter than before. He grabbed your shoulders and you vaguely heard him yell something to the maids who were positioned outside. Resulting in them running to your side with terrified glances.

Your vision was getting blurry and you were sweating bullets. The hands that were on your shoulder gripped harder, making you wince. Your eyes were starting to get watery and itchy, you decided to close them to ease the pain for a bit.

And then there was silence.

from, your admirer

tags: @ohnoivefallen @julietdelamare @scotchhopin

credits:

neutral heart + star divider made by @cafekitsune

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