caelith ⋆˚꩜.ᐟ

I write and rant. ⋆˚࿔

[caelithnyx]

“Help, My OTPs Are in My Living Room”

Masterlist ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

𖦹 Introductory

𖦹 Chapter 1

𖦹 Chapter 2

𖦹 Chapter 3

[caelithnyx]

“Help, My OTPs Are in My Living Room”

Chapter 12: The Full Polygon Unleashed

It started as a harmless thought, the kind of idea you’d toss out casually over coffee.

“Let’s go to the park,” you said. “Fresh air. Sunshine. Bonding time. Relaxing.”

Simple. Harmless. Easy.

Except nothing in your life had been simple since they came along.

The moment you arrived, the universe seemed to hold its breath. Mincheol, Taeha, and Hyeondo—your “modern, functioning trio”—were already there, looking infuriatingly perfect. They blended into the scenery like they’d been born for it: Mincheol with his quiet charm and steady smile, Taeha with his subtle, teasing warmth, and Hyeondo—calm, composed, with that picnic blanket tucked neatly under his arm like he’d planned the entire day down to the last detail.

You could’ve stopped there. You should’ve.

But then the others arrived.

Sanemi, Obanai, Tengen, and Toji.

Four men who carried chaos like it was oxygen.

They stepped off the curb and into the sunlight like a slow-moving natural disaster. You could practically feel the world tilt slightly off-balance as they approached—the breeze changing direction, birds taking off nervously, a mother pulling her child away from the path.

“Don’t touch anyone,” you hissed under your breath as they passed a group of teenagers.

“Too late,” Mincheol murmured, already tugging you back when Sanemi’s glare locked onto an innocent jogger.

Taeha brushed his hand against yours every few steps—casual, almost accidental. Your pulse spiked each time, no matter how desperately you tried to act normal.

And Hyeondo? He walked beside you with quiet assurance, eyes scanning the park as if assessing every potential variable. His calm was infuriatingly attractive. The kind of composure that made you feel both safe and completely undone.

Then, predictably, it began.

Sanemi found a bench and claimed it like a territorial wolf, scowling at everything that dared move.

Obanai drifted toward the fountain, crouching beside it with analytical precision—examining the water as if testing for impurities, all while silently judging a toddler who splashed nearby.

Tengen, of course, was Tengen—striding across the grass like the main attraction of an unannounced parade, sunlight catching the metallic glint of his accessories. Within minutes, strangers were drawn to him, offering smiles, laughter, and even a daisy crown someone crafted on the spot.

And Toji? Toji simply leaned against a tree, sleeves rolled up, exuding quiet danger like it was second nature. Every now and then, he’d chuckle under his breath—half amusement, half predator’s patience.

You could only groan, pressing your hands to your face. “I am never leaving this park again.”

But no one heard you. Or maybe they didn’t care.

Taeha handed you a bottle of water, leaning close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him. “You’re sweating,” he murmured, voice low and maddeningly smooth. “Here.”

Your fingers brushed his. The world might as well have combusted.

Hyeondo knelt a few feet away, spreading out the picnic blanket with careful precision. He looked up just as your brain went static. “You look tense,” he said softly. “Relax.”

Relax.

As if that was possible when he looked at you like that.

Meanwhile, chaos reached its peak.

Tengen had gathered a crowd, effortlessly commanding attention as laughter rippled around him.

Sanemi muttered curses under his breath about “humans being too loud,” prompting Obanai to retort, “Speak for yourself,” in his dry, muffled tone.

Toji stayed back, half-grinning, clearly entertained by the social implosion unfolding before him.

And you? You were losing your mind in the best way possible.

Your heart ping-ponged between Taeha’s teasing smirk, Hyeondo’s quiet dominance, Mincheol’s gentle steadiness, and the overwhelming awareness that the other four men behind you looked like they’d walked straight out of every chaotic fantasy you’d ever had.

Taeha leaned closer again, his voice brushing against your ear. “You’re staring at me.”

Your brain short-circuited. “I—I wasn’t—uh—”

Perfect. Eloquence: dead.

Hyeondo glanced over, the faintest curve tugging at his lips. “You really like chaos, don’t you?”

You groaned, defeated. “You have no idea.”

And as you looked at them—Tengen dazzling the world, Sanemi scowling at existence, Obanai silently judging, Toji watching with sharp amusement, Mincheol smiling softly, Taeha teasing with deliberate precision, and Hyeondo calmly orchestrating peace amidst the madness—you realized something that made your chest ache and your heart flutter all at once:

Your life had spiraled from heartbreak into absolute polygon chaos.

And somehow, impossibly, beautifully—you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[caelithnyx]

“Help, My OTPs Are in My Living Room”

Chapter 11: Out in the Wild (Modern Edition)

Back at the apartment, the 1980s squad—Sanemi, Obanai, Tengen, and Toji—were glaring at you like you personally ruined their lives.

‎

‎“Do I look like a human now?” Sanemi demanded, tugging at the modern jacket you’d forced him into.

‎

‎“Yes,” you said calmly. “You don’t look like someone who time-traveled from 1860.”

‎

‎He scowled. “1860? Who said—”

‎

‎Obanai pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know why I let you pick this… but fine. I look acceptable, though it’s beneath me.”

‎

‎Tengen, of course, was busy posing in front of a mirror, fully basking in the flashy-but-modern outfit you picked. “See? I look divine. Everyone else? Pathetic.”

‎

‎Toji just shrugged, tying his jacket the “way it’s meant to be worn,” which somehow made him look… intimidatingly normal.

‎

‎You rolled your eyes. “Good. Now that you’ve stopped complaining, it’s time to—”

‎

‎“Go where?” Sanemi interrupted.

‎

‎“Live,” you said simply. “Get out there. Go to the park, the store, interact with humans. Experience life beyond this apartment.”

‎

‎Obanai muttered, “You’re insane.”

‎

‎“I’m your human,” you reminded him.

‎

‎‎The four of them stepped into the city like they owned it—or like they were about to cause a scene anyway. And honestly? Half the city didn’t even notice the strange, beautiful men wandering in outfits slightly too stylish for normal life. The other half was just quietly taking notes on their Instagram feeds.

‎

‎Sanemi grumbled the whole way to the coffee shop. “People stare too much. What’s wrong with them?”

‎

‎Obanai was silently judging everyone and everything, eyebrows permanently furrowed.

‎

‎Tengen? Well… he made friends with a busker in under five minutes, clapping the man on the shoulder, shouting compliments, and getting a small crowd to gather.

‎

‎Toji wandered a bit behind, observing humans quietly and taking mental notes on how annoying—or amusing—they were.

‎

‎You, of course, followed behind with your basket of shopping items, quietly worrying whether anyone would survive this outing unscathed.

You guys decided to go to a café nearby. The café was warm and alive with the smell of roasted beans and soft chatter, a kind of peace that didn’t suit the chaos sitting around your table. You took a deep breath, smoothing your jacket as you tried to appear composed. “Okay,” you said, voice steady even though your pulse wasn’t. “Order something, blend in, don’t do anything weird.”

Sanemi leaned back on his chair, arms crossed, his scowl sharp enough to cut through the hum of conversation. “Do you ever stop talking?” he muttered, the scar at the corner of his lip twitching as he glanced toward the nearest exit.

Obanai adjusted his mask, eyes flicking toward you with cool disinterest. “Why am I here again?” His tone carried that familiar irritation, like the air itself offended him.

Before you could respond, Tengen threw an arm over the back of his chair with theatrical flair, his voice loud enough to draw a few curious stares. “Because you live under my aesthetic jurisdiction, obviously,” he said with a grin that practically sparkled under the café lights.

Toji, seated beside the window, gave a lazy smirk, the kind that hinted at both danger and amusement. “She wanted us to live a little,” he said, voice low and smooth. “Not my problem how you deal with it.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling the headache forming. “I’m already regretting this,” you muttered.

Then it happened.

A human—an ordinary guy with a laptop and a half-empty cup of cappuccino—walked past and accidentally brushed against Sanemi’s shoulder. The man barely noticed, but Sanemi did. His reflexes were too fast, too sharp; his hand shot out and gripped the stranger’s shoulder. The poor man froze, eyes wide, while Sanemi’s expression shifted from instinctive hostility to sudden realization.

He released the guy immediately, muttering something that might’ve been an apology but sounded more like a growl. The man scurried off, clearly rethinking his life choices.

Obanai leaned toward you, voice a whisper behind his mask. “Told you,” he said dryly. “Humans are inefficient.”

Tengen threw his head back and laughed—booming, unrestrained, the kind that turned every head in the café. “I love it!” he declared, clearly unbothered by the barista’s nervous glance in your direction.

Toji just shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “They’ll learn eventually,” he said, eyes still on his untouched drink. “Or not. Either works.”

You tried not to laugh, biting your lip as the group awkwardly—somehow—began to navigate human normalcy.

Sanemi eventually returned to the counter, ordered a black coffee, and glared at the cup like it had personally offended him. Obanai sat quietly, not glaring at too many people. Tengen had already made a new fan—a group of college girls whispering about his “silver hair and godlike energy.” And Toji, well, Toji just leaned back, calm and unreadable, surviving the madness as if he’d done this a thousand times before.

The sunlight slanted through the windows, catching in the steam rising from their drinks. For the first time, you realized—they could actually do this.

Maybe chaos was inevitable with them around.

Maybe your life would never return to something resembling normal.

But as you looked at them—all alive, all here—you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t so bad after all.

[caelithnyx]

“Help, My OTPs Are in My Living Room”

Chapter 10: Mission: Make Them Look Normal (ft. the Babysitters Trio)

But ‎you had to be realistic about this.

‎There was no universe—none—where you could let Sanemi, Obanai, Tengen, or Toji walk into a mall without causing either a panic or a viral TikTok.

‎

‎So, you made a decision.

‎

‎You stood in the middle of your living room, arms crossed, addressing your very confused audience.

‎

‎“Okay. New rule.”

‎

‎Sanemi frowned. “I hate it already.”

‎

‎“You four—Sanemi, Obanai, Tengen, and Toji—are staying here.”

‎

‎Four pairs of eyes instantly glared.

‎

‎“Excuse me?” Tengen asked dramatically. “You’re depriving the public of this much flamboyance?”

‎

‎“You’re depriving me of peace,” you replied.

‎

‎Toji smirked lazily. “Why? You don’t trust us?”

‎

‎You stared at him flatly. “No. You’d steal, stab, or flirt with someone before we even hit the food court.”

‎

‎Obanai muttered something about how “humans were a nuisance anyway,” while Sanemi folded his arms and looked personally offended.

‎

‎“I’m not some babysitting case,” Sanemi grumbled.

‎

‎You raised an eyebrow. “You tried to threaten my toaster because it made a weird noise.”

‎

‎He opened his mouth—then closed it again.

‎

‎“Exactly.”

‎

‎Tengen pouted, lounging on the couch. “Fine. But only if you bring me something stylish.”

‎

‎You sighed. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll see what I can do.”

‎

‎You turned to the three reasonable men in the room.

‎

‎“Mincheol, Taeha, Hyeondo—you’re coming with me.”

‎

‎Mincheol nodded instantly, always calm. “Makes sense.”

‎

‎Taeha smiled softly, a hint of excitement in his voice. “It’s been a while since I’ve gone out with you.”

‎

‎You blinked, flustered. “We’ve… literally never gone out.”

‎

‎He tilted his head. “We have now.”

‎

‎You felt your heart skip—again.

‎

‎And then Hyeondo’s voice broke the moment, smooth and low. “I’ll drive.”

‎

‎The other two looked at him like, of course he will.

‎

‎He tossed you his spare mask and smiled faintly. “You’ll need it if you don’t want to be recognized with this circus.”

‎

‎“Circus?” you repeated, laughing. “You’re the one driving three fictional men to a shopping mall.”

‎

‎He smirked. “Exactly.”

‎

‎‎Back at the apartment:

‎

‎Sanemi sat by the window, grumbling.

‎Toji was lying down, scrolling through your phone somehow.

‎Tengen was painting his nails.

‎And Obanai was quietly crocheting something in the corner.

‎

‎None of them would admit it, but the second you left, the room felt emptier.

‎

‎Sanemi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “She really left us behind, huh?”

‎

‎Tengen hummed. “Maybe she doesn’t trust us.”

‎

‎Toji smirked. “Maybe she doesn’t trust herself.”

‎

‎Obanai looked up briefly. “You’re insufferable.”

‎

‎‎Meanwhile, in the mall:

‎

‎You were trying to juggle three men who looked like they stepped out of a webtoon—each in very different ways.

‎

‎Taeha kept subtly standing too close, offering to hold your bag.

‎Mincheol kept giving practical advice and smiling in that gentle way that made your chest warm.

‎And Hyeondo? He was the calm center of all the chaos, holding a basket full of clothes, quietly judging everyone’s fashion choices.

‎

‎Taeha picked up a plain black hoodie and held it out. “Would this look good on me?”

‎

‎You blinked. “You’d look good in a trash bag.”

‎

‎He grinned. “So yes?”

‎

‎Mincheol rolled his eyes. “Flirt less, pick faster.”

‎

‎You laughed, clutching your sides. “You guys are so different and yet somehow worse together.”

‎

‎Hyeondo looked over from the next aisle, raising a brow. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

‎

‎You met his eyes, smiling softly. “Maybe I am.”

‎

‎And for a split second—between the bickering, the laughter, and the faint hum of the mall—you forgot that this wasn’t supposed to last.

‎

[caelithnyx]

“Help, My OTPs Are in My Living Room”

Chapter 9: Modern Problems Require Modern Drip

The next morning was… weirdly peaceful.

‎Almost too peaceful.

‎

‎You woke up to the smell of breakfast—which, of course, meant Hyeondo was already in the kitchen. Again.

‎You didn’t even question it this time.

‎

‎But as you rubbed your eyes and looked around the living room, the sight that greeted you nearly made you scream.

‎

‎Sanemi was scowling at the remote control like it had personally offended him.

‎Obanai was wrapped in a blanket, glaring at a cat video playing on your phone.

‎Tengen was standing in front of the mirror, trying to figure out how to use hair gel.

‎Toji had fallen asleep on your couch, shirtless.

‎Mincheol was scrolling through your phone, confused but invested.

‎And Taeha was quietly reading a magazine upside down.

‎

‎You sighed. “This is officially a daycare.”

‎

‎When you finally got everyone’s attention, you clapped your hands together. “Okay. As much as I love everyone here…” you paused, looking around at the absolute circus of beautiful men that had taken over your apartment, “…I think we need to find a way to bring y’all back.”

‎

‎Sanemi frowned. “Back? You’re kicking us out already?”

‎

‎“Not kicking out,” you clarified quickly, “more like, returning you to your worlds before this turns into an episode of Black Mirror.”

‎

‎Tengen grinned. “Or we could stay and start a reality show. I call dibs on the spotlight.”

‎

‎You rolled your eyes. “No, we’re not doing ‘Keeping Up with the Fictionals.’”

‎

‎Toji smirked from the couch. “You sure? Ratings would be insane.”

‎

‎“Shut up,” you muttered, though you were smiling.

‎

‎“Anyway,” you continued, “while we figure it out, you all need to blend in. You can’t exactly walk around looking like you time-traveled from the 1800s.”

‎

‎You turned pointedly toward Sanemi, Obanai, Tengen, and Toji. “Yes, I’m talking about you four.”

‎

‎Sanemi scoffed. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

‎

‎“Everything,” you deadpanned. “People will either call the cops or hand you a pamphlet for a historical reenactment.”

‎

‎Obanai muttered, “My uniform is practical.”

‎

‎“For a demon hunt, maybe—not a grocery run,” you said, crossing your arms.

‎

‎Tengen flipped his ponytail dramatically. “Excuse you, I’m flamboyant enough to make anything work.”

‎

‎“You’re wearing sparkles, Tengen,” you said. “In the morning.”

‎

‎Toji shrugged lazily. “I think I look fine.”

‎

‎“You’re literally shirtless!” you shouted.

‎

‎He gave you that half-smirk that made your brain short-circuit. “So?”

‎

‎You threw your hands up. “I give up.”

‎

‎Mincheol chuckled quietly. “I could help them pick outfits.”

‎

‎Taeha smiled softly. “I’ll come too. I want to see how they adapt.”

‎

‎Hyeondo finally emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “We’re taking them shopping?”

‎

‎You looked at him helplessly. “Do you have a better idea?”

‎

‎He sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “No. But I’m not explaining modern fashion to a man who thinks belts are optional.”

‎

‎Sanemi crossed his arms. “Hey, I wear belts.”

‎

‎“To hold your sword,” you said flatly. “Not your jeans.”

‎

‎Everyone went silent for a beat before Tengen burst out laughing.

‎

‎It was official: You were taking seven fictional men on a shopping trip.

‎

‎God help you...

[caelithnyx]

“Help, My OTPs Are in My Living Room”

Chapter 8: The Chef’s Arrival

You honestly thought nothing could surprise you anymore.

You’d already been through six rounds of “Surprise! Your fictional crushes are real!” and your heart was running on fumes.

That was before he appeared.

The air in the room shifted—subtle but distinct, like the smell of roasted garlic drifting in from nowhere. Everyone else noticed it too.

Toji straightened. “You smell that?”

Tengen grinned. “Finally. Someone who knows how to make an entrance.”

And then you heard it—the sound of a pan sizzling.

You turned toward your kitchen. There he was.

Hyeondo Oh.

He stood at your stove in a black button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, a calm focus in his eyes as he stirred something that smelled way too good for your cheap cookware. The light hit the curve of his jaw just right, and you swear the world went silent for a second.

He looked up at you, expression soft but unreadable. “You didn’t eat yet, did you?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

He smiled faintly—that smile, the one that could make rational thought evaporate. “You skipped dinner. I could tell from how pale you looked.”

“HOW—how would you even—” you started, but stopped when he turned back to the pan, unbothered, graceful in the most unfairly attractive way possible.

Mincheol leaned toward you, whispering, “Is this guy your therapist or your husband?”

You whispered back, “Neither. Yet.”

Sanemi groaned. “Not this again.”

Obanai crossed his arms. “She’s worse than before.”

But you barely heard them. You’d already walked closer, drawn by the smell, by the way his hands moved with ease—measured, confident, gentle.

You tried to speak casually. “So uh… you cook often?”

He glanced at you, amused. “I'm literally a chef... and only when I’m worried someone’s not eating right.”

You blinked. “Worried? About me?”

He shrugged slightly, plating the dish—pasta, of course, because of course it was—and setting it gently in front of you. “I’ve always worried about you.”

The room went silent.

Even Tengen didn’t have a comeback.

You froze, eyes wide, staring between him and the steaming plate. “Wait—you what?”

He smiled softly, wiping his hands with a towel. “When you read about me, you always said I seemed lonely. I just thought it was fair I returned the concern.”

Your heart melted right there.

Forget nosebleed—you were two seconds away from short-circuiting entirely.

Toji muttered, “He’s smooth. I’ll give him that.”

Taeha, visibly annoyed, leaned back. “He’s not even trying, and she’s already gone.”

Hyeondo didn’t respond. He just slid a fork toward you. “Eat.”

You sat down automatically, taking a bite—and holy hell. It tasted like comfort, like warmth, like every night you wished someone cared enough to make something just for you.

You looked up at him, smiling weakly. “This is… perfect.”

He smiled back, soft and knowing. “Good. I don’t like seeing you starve—emotionally or otherwise.”

Sanemi whispered to Obanai, “We’re so done for.”

Obanai sighed. “Yeah. The chef wins.”

[caelithnyx]

“Help, My OTPs Are in My Living Room”

Chapter 7: The Quiet Flame

By the time Tengen finished his third round of “self-introductions” (complete with dramatic flourishes and an accidental chair flip), you were starting to question every life choice that had led you here.

Your living room was full—Sanemi grumbling on the couch, Obanai judging everyone silently, Toji half-amused, Mincheol trying to play mediator, and Tengen being, well, Tengen.

You were halfway through a sigh when the air changed again.

Not loud. Not stormy. Just… warm.

Like sunlight filtering through curtains.

Then came a deep but comforting voice behind you.

“Are they always this noisy?”

You turned—and froze.

Taeha Beom stood in your doorway, one hand in his pocket, the faintest smile on his lips. His eyes were calm, unreadable, but they pinned you in place all the same. His dark hair framed his face perfectly, and when he tilted his head slightly, it was like time slowed down.

You swear you felt your brain short-circuit.

Your chest tightened.

Your nose actually tingled.

You almost laughed at yourself, but no sound came out.

Tengen blinked. “Oh great, another one. This apartment’s turning into a convention.”

Sanemi groaned. “She’s collecting them like Pokémon.”

Obanai muttered, “At this rate we’ll need a waiting list.”

But Taeha didn’t seem to notice them. His gaze stayed fixed on you.

He stepped closer—slow, unhurried—and smiled just enough to make your pulse jump. “You look… exactly like I imagined.”

You blinked. “You—what?”

He chuckled softly, tilting his head. “You don’t remember? You used to think about me a lot.” His tone was light, teasing, but his eyes burned with quiet intensity that made you want to look away—and couldn’t.

Your voice wavered. “T-that was before you were… real.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, leaning just a little closer, his voice dropping lower. “Maybe. But I think you still do.”

Your heart absolutely betrayed you. It leapt, thudded, skipped—whatever hearts do when they realize they’re in mortal danger. You were seconds away from nosebleeding on the spot.

Tengen raised a brow. “Is he flirting already?”

Toji smirked. “Subtle. I like it.”

Sanemi scowled. “Oh, come on!”

Mincheol sighed, half-smiling. “This is getting out of hand.”

Taeha finally tore his gaze away from you long enough to glance around the room, still wearing that unbothered, good-boy smile. “You all look… comfortable here. I hope you don’t mind if I stay close to her.”

Sanemi glared. “You what?”

Taeha simply smiled again, turning back to you. “You don’t mind, do you?”

You shook your head too quickly. “N-no! I mean—yes! I mean—you can stay!”

The room erupted in groans, muttering, and sarcastic comments, but you barely heard any of it. Taeha’s smile deepened just slightly—like he already knew exactly how much chaos he’d caused, and loved it.

And you?

You knew in that moment that he’d just become your biggest problem.

Because Taeha Beom wasn’t just hot.

He was dangerously charming, endlessly patient, and already—unapologetically—obsessed with you.

Note: I seriously find him so hot, he should be illegal 😩 I LOVE BEOM TAEHAAAAA

[caelithnyx]

“Help, My OTPs Are in My Living Room”

Chapter 6: The Flashy Entrance

For a few blissful minutes, the world was calm again.

Mincheol had somehow managed to settle the storm—talking softly, smiling that grounding smile, even convincing Sanemi to stop glaring holes into the wall. You were breathing normally again, maybe even starting to think you could handle this.

Then—

a sound.

Loud. Confident. Dramatic.

It wasn’t thunder this time. It was breathing.

Rhythmic, deep, almost theatrical.

Sanemi and Obanai froze.

At the exact same time, both sighed like they already knew what was coming.

“Oh, hell no,” Sanemi muttered, dragging a hand down his face.

Obanai pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please tell me that’s not who I think it is.”

But before you could ask what was happening, a voice boomed from the doorway:

“WELL, WELL, WELL—looks like the rumors were true! A beautiful woman summons heroes from across worlds, and not a single one of you thought to invite me? How unflashy!”

Tengen Uzui burst into your apartment like a fireworks display in human form—sparkling eyes, confident grin, and enough presence to make every other man in the room seem suddenly muted.

You blinked. “Oh my god.”

He grinned wider. “Close, sweetheart, but I go by Tengen.”

Sanemi groaned. “Unbelievable. This guy? Seriously?!”

Toji smirked. “I’m not even surprised anymore.”

Obanai crossed his arms. “The universe must hate us.”

Meanwhile, Mincheol just smiled politely, though you could see his eye twitch faintly—probably realizing his quiet atmosphere was about to be destroyed forever.

Tengen looked around, taking in the room full of scowling faces and one very overwhelmed you. “Quite the collection you’ve got here. You didn’t summon me just to look, did you? Because, trust me, I’m far too flashy to ignore.”

You raised your hands defensively. “I didn’t mean to summon any of you! I'm so tired of explaining shit but It was literally a wish! I didn’t think the universe would actually—”

“Grant it?” Tengen interrupted, leaning in slightly with that signature grin. “Well, lucky for us, it did. And luckier for you, it included me.”

Sanemi groaned again, muttering, “I take everything back. Girl, what is your type? Pick a damn lane.”

Obanai, deadpan, nodded. “Agreed.”

Toji snorted. “She clearly doesn’t have one.”

Mincheol just hid his laugh behind his hand, while you stood there, red-faced, caught somewhere between embarrassment and laughter.

“Apparently,” you said weakly, “the universe decided I needed variety.”

Tengen winked. “A woman of taste, I see.”

Sanemi threw his head back dramatically. “UZUI YOU LITERALLY HAVE WIVES— I can’t do this anymore.”

Obanai hissed, “You say that like you ever had a choice.”

And just like that, your once quiet apartment erupted again—voices overlapping, personalities clashing, Tengen basking in the spotlight like it was his stage, and you in the middle, laughing helplessly at the insanity your one brokenhearted wish had unleashed.

You were sure now—there was no turning back.

And somehow, part of you didn’t even want to.

Note: sanemi is probably planning suicide atp 😭 I'm sorry king

[caelithnyx]

“Help, My OTPs Are in My Living Room”

Chapter 5: The Familiar Warmth

The argument between Sanemi, Obanai, and Toji was going nowhere. Your head throbbed. Between the yelling, sarcasm, and tension so thick you could taste it, you were seconds away from locking yourself in the bathroom and pretending none of this was happening.

And then—

the air shifted again.

No thunder, no flash of light this time. Just a quiet pulse.

You felt it before you saw it—a warmth spreading through the room, soft and familiar, like a memory of sunlight through your window on a slow morning.

When you opened your eyes, he was there.

Mincheol Kim.

You froze. He wasn’t imposing like Toji, nor loud like Sanemi, nor sharp like Obanai. He was… easy. Real. His smile was small but sincere, the kind that made your shoulders drop from where they’d been tensed for hours.

Your heart actually melted. You didn’t even fight it.

“...Mincheol,” you whispered, barely believing it.

He tilted his head, a small grin curling his lips. “So you do know me. That makes this a little less awkward.”

Sanemi blinked, thrown off by the new arrival’s calmness. “Great. Another one. What is this, a collection now?”

Toji chuckled lowly. “Seems she’s got a type—and it’s not you, tough guy.”

Sanemi shot him a glare, and Obanai muttered something under his breath about “one more rival.”

But none of that reached you. Your focus was only on Mincheol.

Because if Sanemi was chaos, Obanai was edge, and Toji was danger—then Mincheol was peace. His voice carried that quiet teasing tone you’d read a hundred times before. His eyes had that same look of I’ve known you for years even though he’d just arrived.

“I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me,” he said softly, his smile fading into something almost fond. “Guess I couldn’t let that happen.”

Your throat tightened. “I could never forget you,” you admitted, voice trembling.

The room went still. For a brief second, the storm of conflicting personalities faded into the background. It was just you and him—and the realization that your comfort character, the one you always turned to when the world felt too heavy, was standing right in front of you.

Then Sanemi coughed loudly, clearly irritated. “Unbelievable. She’s already looking at him like that?”

Obanai rolled his eyes. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Sanemi.”

Toji smirked from where he leaned against the wall. “This is gonna get interesting fast.”

You covered your face with both hands, heart pounding, cheeks hot. This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.

But it was.

And as Mincheol’s soft laughter filled the room, you realized something terrifyingly clear:

your comfort character wasn’t just comforting anymore—he was real, and he was looking at you like you were the only thing in the room that mattered.

[caelithnyx]

“Help, My OTPs Are in My Living Room”

Chapter 4: The Quiet Storm

You were just starting to calm down from the chaos of Sanemi and Obanai standing in your living room when a sudden shift in the air made the hairs on your neck stand up. The lights flickered. The rain outside intensified. And then… a shadow appeared at your doorway.

“Who… is that?” you whispered, barely audible.

Before anyone could answer, a tall figure stepped into the apartment, his presence immediately commanding. Black hair falling over his sharp eyes, a calm but dangerous aura surrounding him, he scanned the room with a subtle smirk.

Toji Fushiguro had arrived.

Sanemi’s arms crossed tighter, nostrils flaring. “Oh, great. Another one. THIS is your fault,” he snapped at you. “You’re making this worse—don’t you get it?!”

You opened your mouth, panic rising. “WHAT?”

“I SWEAR IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A JOKE. I NEVER EXPECTED IT TO BECOME REAL. IF I KNEW IT WOULD I WOULDN’T BRING YOU!”

Obanai’s lips twitched into a laugh. “Oh, the fire-headed one is finally admitting defeat? Delightful.”

Toji, leaning casually against the wall, let out a low, amused chuckle. “He’s blaming you? That’s… adorable.”

Sanemi’s scowl deepened. “Don’t—don’t mock me!”

You buried your face in your hands, wishing for a second that your wish had never worked—but part of you couldn’t help but grin at the absurdity. Three fictional crushes, all standing in your apartment, arguing like this.

Toji stepped closer, his eyes finally landing on you. “So… you’re the one responsible for all this chaos, huh?” His tone was teasing, but there was a sharp edge underneath it that made your stomach flutter.

“Yes,” you muttered. “I… I didn’t think it would actually… happen.”

“Clearly,” Sanemi muttered, muttering something else under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse directed at you.

Obanai crossed his arms, smirking at the fiery man. “I think she’s adorable when she panics,” he said quietly, though loud enough for Sanemi to glare.

Toji’s smirk widened. “Well, at least this should be interesting. Looks like I’ve arrived just in time for… a front-row seat to the chaos.”

Your heart raced. Interesting? Front-row seat? You weren’t sure if you were more terrified or thrilled...

The apartment felt impossibly small with three larger-than-life personalities already clashing, and now you had Toji quietly adding his dangerous energy to the mix. The storm outside suddenly felt tame compared to what was happening inside.

And deep down, you knew—somewhere between the panic, the laughter, and the absolute absurdity—your life had officially and irrevocably changed.

[caelithnyx]

“Help, My OTPs Are in My Living Room”

Chapter 3: Another One?

You hadn’t even finished processing the fact that Sanemi Shinazugawa was standing in your living room, acting like he belonged there, when you heard another voice.

“Excuse me… do you mind explaining why I just felt… pulled here?”

Your head whipped around.

And there he was. Obanai Iguro. Black hair, heterochromatic piercing eyes that seemed to analyze every corner of your apartment, and that unmistakable air of judgment he somehow carried even in fictional illustrations.

Sanemi’s eyes narrowed instantly, and you felt the tension in the room thicken.

“What the hell do you want?” Sanemi growled. “I was here first!”

Obanai’s lips quirked in a faint, unimpressed smirk. “Oh? Is that supposed to matter? You don’t exactly seem… permanent.”

Your hands flew to your face. “Wait, wait, wait—stop! Both of you—stop! I—I didn’t—this isn’t—”

Sanemi threw up his hands in frustration. “She wished for us! So she’s clearly responsible for all this chaos!”

“Responsible or not, she summoned me too,” Obanai said, stepping closer, gaze locking onto yours in that way that made your chest tighten. “And I’ll be honest… I don’t like sharing attention.”

Sanemi’s scowl deepened. “Hah. Too late. You’ll just have to deal with it.”

You groaned, sinking onto the couch. “I don’t even know how to explain this properly! I was—” You paused, realizing how absurd it all sounded. “I was heartbroken! I wished… I wished you guys were real instead of… you know… the kind of people who break hearts in real life!”

Obanai’s expression softened just a tiny fraction, though his voice was still sharp. “Hmm. I see. That explains a lot… though it doesn’t make it any less your problem now.”

Sanemi muttered something under his breath—probably a curse, probably your fault—before crossing his arms again. “Yeah. Welcome to the chaos. Buckle up, because you clearly summoned a storm.”

You stared at them, your brain a complete blank. A storm. A literal storm of fictional crushes that now exist in my living room. This is insane. I’m insane.

And yet… there was something exhilarating about seeing them, seeing them real, standing here, looking at you like you mattered. It made your heart beat faster in a way no heartbreak ever had.

You couldn’t help but wonder…

If this is just two of them… how many more are going to show up?

The thought was terrifying. And exciting. And completely, utterly impossible to ignore.

Because your wish… your chaotic, slightly desperate wish… was only just beginning to unfold.

[caelithnyx]

“Help, My OTPs Are in My Living Room”

Chapter 2: The First Arrival

You woke up the next morning to the sound of your phone buzzing incessantly. Bleary-eyed, you reached for it, expecting more messages of disappointment. Instead… nothing. Just silence. Strange, but not unusual; mornings always made your world feel heavier than it was.

Rolling out of bed, you stretched and glanced around your apartment. Nothing looked different. The coffee maker, the stack of unread books, the faint smell of rain from last night—it all seemed normal.

Then, you heard it.

A voice.

“Oi, what the hell is this place?”

Your heart practically stopped. You froze mid-step, ears straining. The voice was… not real. Not someone you’d ever heard in your life. But it was so familiar.

Slowly, you turned. And there he was.

Sanemi Shinazugawa.

He stood in the middle of your living room, arms crossed, a scowl etched on his face, hair even wilder than in the illustrations you’d stared at for hours. He looked… tangible. Real. The kind of real that made your brain short-circuit.

“I… I must be dreaming,” you whispered.

“No,” he said, tilting his head. “You’re not dreaming. And you’d better explain why I’m standing in your apartment before I start smashing things.”

Your jaw dropped. “I—I didn’t… I mean… you—you’re—”

“You wished,” he interrupted, voice sharp, gaze piercing. “I don’t know what kind of magic nonsense got you into this, but here I am. Don’t think you can just… ignore it.”

You stumbled back toward the couch, trying to comprehend what was happening. “Wait, wait. You’re… real? You’re not some… some dream? Some… hallucination?”

“Real enough to be standing here,” Sanemi said, smirking now, though it barely softened the intensity in his eyes. “Now, answer me—why?”

You opened your mouth. Words failed you. Your mind raced. Why did I wish for this? Why did I think this could solve anything?

“I—I was… I was tired of people breaking my heart,” you admitted finally, your voice small. “I just… I thought… maybe… if someone like you were real, it would be different.”

Sanemi’s scowl softened slightly. Just slightly. “Hmph. Humans are complicated,” he muttered. Then, with a tilt of his head and a rare glimmer of something almost like concern, he added, “Fine. You wanted me here. Guess that makes you stuck with me now.”

And just like that, your life—mundane, heartbreak-laden, painfully ordinary—shifted into something entirely unpredictable.

The thought made your stomach flip in both excitement and terror. One crush was here. One. If your wish… worked, then what about the others?

You didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or run screaming from your own apartment.

Sanemi, however, seemed perfectly content to lean against your wall and glare at the ceiling, clearly plotting how to make himself at home—or maybe how to torment you.

Either way, the chaos had officially begun.

And you had a feeling… this was only the beginning.

ᝰ.ᐟ A lil note: btw, if someone needed this then here:

White (B) - Hyeondo

‎Red - Taeha

‎Orange - Mincheol

‎Green - Sanemi

‎Blue - Toji

‎Purple - Obanai

‎Pink - Tengen

[caelithnyx]

“Help, My OTPs Are in My Living Room”

Chapter 1: Heartbreak and Daydreams

The café smelled like burnt coffee, old pastries, and something faintly like rain. You stirred your latte absentmindedly, watching the foam curl into shapes that didn’t mean anything. Outside, the city moved like it always did—people rushing, cars honking, umbrellas bobbing—but inside, your world felt frozen, suspended in the quiet ache of disappointment.

Another message pinged on your phone. You knew before opening it what it would say.

“I just don’t feel the same way anymore. I’m sorry.”

You pressed your lips together, trying not to let the sting hit too hard, but it always did. Why did people have to be so cruel, so thoughtless? One minute they were all smiles and promises, the next they disappeared like smoke, leaving nothing but heartbreak behind.

You set the phone down and let your gaze wander to the window. Rain had started to drizzle, streaking the glass in tiny rivers. You hugged your sweater tighter around your shoulders. Maybe you just weren’t meant for ordinary love.

Then your thoughts drifted, as they always did, to the others. The ones who had never let you down. The ones who lived in pages, screens, and fantasies, but somehow felt closer than anyone in your real life ever had.

Sanemi Shinazugawa—hot-headed, brash, impossible to ignore, yet beneath all that fire, a rare tenderness you could feel even through a screen. Obanai Iguro—dark, sharp-tongued, impossibly protective, with eyes that seemed to see straight into your soul. Tengen Uzui—the loud, dramatic, dazzling kind of person who could make the world feel like a festival just by existing.

And then there were Hyeondo, Taeha, Toji, Mincheol… each different, each unforgettable, each a perfect escape from the monotony of disappointment.

A laugh escaped your lips, soft and bitter. “I wish… I wish you guys were real,” you murmured under your breath. “I wish you could step out of the pages… just for me.”

The café was quiet except for the low hum of the espresso machine. No one heard you. But somewhere, in a crack between reality and daydream, your words hung like sparks in the air.

Lightning split the sky, the sudden brightness making you flinch. The rain turned heavier, drumming against the windows. You shivered, hugging your arms around yourself. It wasn’t just the cold. There was a strange electricity in the air, a feeling that something—someone—was listening, waiting.

You shook your head, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah, right. As if that could ever happen.”

But deep down, a tiny spark of hope ignited. Maybe it didn’t matter if it was impossible. Maybe, just maybe, the universe could be a little kinder than people.

Because somewhere beyond the storm, something in the world was shifting, answering a wish you hadn’t dared to believe in. Something about to make your ordinary, heartbreak-laden life anything but ordinary.

And for the first time in weeks, your heart skipped a beat—not from pain, but from the thrilling, terrifying possibility of magic.

[caelithnyx]

“Help, My OTPs Are in My Living Room”

I didn’t mean it. One heartbreak too many, one glass of wine too many, and one muttered wish… and suddenly my seven fictional crushes were in my living room.

Sanemi, Obanai, Tengen… Hyeondo, Taeha, Dante, and Mincheol—each more impossible, dramatic, and ridiculously attractive than the last. They argue. They compete. They try to win my attention. And somehow, amidst the chaos, I might just be falling for all of them.

Help. My OTPs are in my living room.

Note: This is basically a crossover. I can't choose who to make a fic about so why not just let them all in ;))