Inevitable (Series Masterlist) | JJK

The Story of Us

Pairing: Mahwa Character!Min Yoongi x Reader

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

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

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

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

“Does self-love mean nothing for you?”

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

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

“Are you not going to buy that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She said that reading this will change your life.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy shit.

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

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

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

What the fuck was this dream?!

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

You were just dreaming…right?

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

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

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

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

“N-no. Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1…2…3-

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

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

Too bad you were trying to stay alive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s the most important woman in my life.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was it.

This was the moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But here he was, his focus entirely on you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe…I’d go to Paris?”

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

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

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

“We must stop meeting like this.”

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

Who was he exactly?

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“What are you saying, Taehyung?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am hiring a team to find you, princess.

His final message was dated today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Going somewhere?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What story?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why were your attention not on him?

Who was stealing your attention away from him?!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What were you supposed to do?

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

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

“You’re not getting any younger-”

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

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

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

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

He did none of those things.

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

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

What?

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

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

Think, Y/N. Think.

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

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

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

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

What was the next canon event?

And then it hit you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s see, princess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “Jealous?”

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

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

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

“What are you doing here?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yoongi, what are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

December came.

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

It was safe to say that Min Yoongi went rouge.

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

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

But who could you ask?

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

Where is she?

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

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

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

You have seen her before.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When you turned back, the old woman was gone.

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

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

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

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

But then he smiled.

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

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

Your steps faltered. “My parents?”

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

But now, they were here.

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s our little girl!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yoongi—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath hitched. 

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

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

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

For a moment, there was only him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lies. All of it.

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

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

What mattered was you.

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

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

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

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

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

Your conversation with him was fun. It was grounding.

Until the world began to tilt.

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

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

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

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

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

The driver nodded without hesitation, changing course.

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

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

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

And he wouldn’t let you leave.

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

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

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

Now, it was you.

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

— title; you can feel it on the way home (you are in love)

— pairing; scaramouche x kamisato! reader

— summary; in which you and scaramouche return after eloping, but you run into your older brother in the process

— notes; please donate to my kofi (https://ko-fi.com/thirdgymbros) if you like my content and wish to support me. reblogs are appreciated !!

You’re stolen away from your home in the summer.

The days are luminous, and the nights languid and warm, the darkness is filled with a big yellow story-book moon. The Kamisato estate is still out of sight, hidden by a turn in the path. You trade quick, desperate kisses the whole way back with Scaramouche, still bathed in the shadows as the boughs of the trees around you creak in the night.

It’s odd, returning back to your family estate, with no one realising that your life is profoundly different. Who would have thought saying a few words and slipping on a ring of metal could change a person’s perception of themselves? You aren’t just the youngest child of the Kamisato clan anymore. You’re married now. You have a whole new set of responsibilities and expectations. Just thinking about it intimidates you.

Keep reading

I made the time 👀 I've been wanting to draw the overblots.

Maybe a certain kind of stimulus may stop the overblot from killing them?

The PoV's can be considered the different endings

Hope you like it♥ Thanks for requesting.

Kept Jewel

A request done for @vilithshaven and @that-one-lilith <3 this was supposed to be out last night because i put it in queue but then later forgot to put it back there after editing it some fkjejjre

Fyi this is NOT sagau!!

Warnings: yandere content, minor character death of someone who's only there for two seconds, reader is implied afab and uses she/her pronouns, kidnapping and imprisonment.

For as long as you remember, your world had been full of vibrant, bright colors. The grass had always been green and the sky blue and the sun a glowy yellow and thus you had never suspected that it was rather unusual for someone so young to have already met their soulmate— that was because you didn't know about soulmates and the little connection between meeting their eyes for the same time, the world finally blooming in color for the two half-souls that had been separated long before their creation.

You had been an orphan, placed under the tender care of the elders of Higi Village. When you heard the tales they told, you merely assumed they were just that— fairy tales meant to brighten up the children's days and to give them a new game of pretending they could not see colors, using whatever words they could use to describe something without mentioning its color. 

Higi Village, before the curse of Tatarigami completely spread through the land and polluted everything in its wake, before the Vision Hunt Decree and the Sakuko Decree, had been happy to accept visitors and outlanders, often showing them the wonderful sights and the mines and all the cute little trinkets handmade from the ores. 

One such visitor had been the strangest person you'd met— a beautiful boy with long, midnight blue hair, eyes as purple as the Shogun's lightning and Electro yet he'd been so sweet and gentle you had felt ashamed of thinking of him like that. Kunikuzushi, he'd introduced himself, his smile making his eyes crinkle just the slightest bit. A wandering vagrant. 

He has entertaining tales to tell, little superstitions and stories from the rest of his travels and so in return you tell him of your own stories, laughing under your breath when you talk about soulmates and colors. Why wouldn't you? Color has always been visible in your life as far as you were aware, and thus that was more than enough proof for you that soulmates simply did not exist. 

Foolish, young and naive you remains unaware of the bright gleam in his eyes. 

He leaves, eventually. He is a vagrant and a traveller after all, and still has many places to see. He is not the first visitor to grace Higi Village nor is he the last, and so you forget him just as you have eventually forgotten all other visitors. 

But he has not forgotten you. 

He is unable to forget you, the one person who does not know about their soulmate's existence. The one who does not know about soulmates at all. 

That was more than alright for Kunikuzushi or as he goes by now, Scaramouche. You were his; you were clearly meant for him alone— he who has no soulmate, for he is a puppet more than a human and not even the archons can dictate which souls belong to one another, but Scaramouche knows that you and him are meant to be together for how else could you remain so oblivious to the truth if not for the threads tying you two so intricately? If you were meant for whoever had let you see, then they obviously weren't important enough if you have not met them ever again. 

You are his. So he returns to Higi Village, and at what an opportune time, too! The Tatarigami has truly and well stripped the island of all its previous glory, and all the Shogun and her little military had done was create a furnace to harness it, rather than ridding the island of it. All of it means he is right to come for you; he will take you away from this barren island to somewhere safe and secure, where only he may have have access to you—

He finds you amidst his musings, asleep and curled under the shade of a wilting sakura tree. A meagre shelter against the battering rain and the lightning striking the sky in a maelstrom of color, but shelter nonetheless. 

They've kicked you out just as I payed them to. Wonderful. 

He picks you up— and oh, you aren't asleep, but rather passed out. Your body is sweating and heated, and now that he is close enough he could hear how nasally your breath was. You are sick, he realizes with a chuckle. All the better for him, really. With you sick and weak and so clearly starved, it will be easy for him to convince you to stay with him.

And so he took you, sick and weak and vulnerable, back to a place he'd created solely for the two of you. You will be safe here, where nobody but him will ever interact with you; where your soulmate will never find you; where you are far too grateful to have a stable roof over your head and a warm meal three times a day to complain about Kunikuzushi being strangely affectionate with you. 

It makes something cold and uncomfortable curl in your stomach when he holds you, someone practically a stranger to you yet he adores you as though you've known him for centuries. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't eventually forgotten Kunikuzushi in the sea of visitors of Higi Village, but it appears that he has not forgotten you— each night you find yourself in his arms despite how uncomfortable you are, listening to his awful whispers of how he'll keep you by his side for all eternity, of how beautiful you look and how you belong to him.

But it is either this or being left to fend for yourself on an island that is no longer suitable for living and that has kicked you out— you both know this, and so you bite down on your tongue and let him be as affectionate and controlling with you as he wants even if it feels stifling and scary at times.

Scaramouche is not fond of leaving you alone in the mansion, but sometimes needs must. Sure he can order any of the maids that have strict instructions not to ever show their face to interact with you, but he does not yet trust you and them enough not to try and pull some stunt to escape, despite how well-behaved you are and how you're slowly starting to lean into his touches, smiling just a bit and no longer always asking to go outside.

He's sure you'd be horrified if you realized you've come to like your kidnapper caretaker's company, so he doesn't bring it up but nonetheless it still makes him quite smug and all the more convinced of his beliefs. 

He wants your every second of wakefulness and otherwise, he wants your attention and your focus and everything that you have to give and everything that he has to take— these are all reasons why he hates leaving you, but he's still a Harbinger and he has duties to fulfil for her Imperial Majesty the Tsaritsa of Zapolyarny Palace, and among those duties is pest control. 

Certain agents have less loyalty than they should, and some of them often try to do a funny little thing where they sell information to other groups in and outside of the nation of everlasting winter. These agents need to be put down, so to speak, and Scaramouche is here just to do so and then return back to you, his dear unknowing wife.

The Fatui have long since marked out the location of their little hideout, so Scaramouche does not need dally by searching around before he and some of his own men are already tearing it apart, the little traitors soon captured and presented to him. 

He orders the rest, save for their Inazuman leader, to be killed. Let him see what will be his fate as well, he thinks with a nasty chuckle. 

Scaramouche is thinking of you even here— he hopes you haven't gotten bored of all the books he's left for you, or perhaps you're now doing some embroidery? Hmm, while he can't have you speaking with others that doesn't mean he can't give you a little pet to spend your days with— 

Scaramouche doesn’t give the leader a chance to beg for mercy before his Electro has surged through his hands and catalyst. The sooner he kills this little pest, the sooner he can get you back in his arms. 

He expects many things for his return— he does not expect to find you crying and panicking, pacing in circles in your lavish bedroom. Upon seeing him, he is further surprised by you throwing your arms around him and sobbing. 

"Beloved, what's wrong? Has anybody hurt you?-" 

"Kuni, I- I can't see colors anymore, I can't what color is the sky or- or what color your eyes are, everything's black and white," your voice shakes and trembles with your cries. "Why can't I- why can't I see?" 

Scaramouche's mind is reeling with just how good this opportunity is. Your soulmate is dead, and now you can truly, fully belong to him. 

He pulls you even closer, making soft shushing noises and caressing your hair. "I don't know, darling," he lies as easily as breathing— even easier, as he doesn't really need to do the latter to live. "Calm down, my beloved, I'll try to search for a cure and an answer. But for now, stay with me?" 

You are still crying, but that's alright: Scaramouche gathers you in his arms and pretends expertly as though he's as confused and worried as you are when in truth he's quite happy about this new development. 

"Oh my darling wife, it's alright, I have you now," he keeps murmuring to you, smug in the way you don't protest but nod your head. Oh dear, it truly is bothering you huh? "You belong to me, I'll keep you safe and sound, my love. Only stay good for me. . ." 

He takes you to your bed, slow and steady to keep you from asking him to leave. He does not falter in telling you little "assurances", but if the way you keep yourself so unusually close to his side then he knows that you find comfort in his presence and his words. 

Mine. He thinks with delight at feeling you still crying yet keeping your arms around him, so desperate for his comfort and who is he to deny his lovely wife anything her heart wants? 

You're my soulmate. 

Love Pages

➜ Words: 18k

➜ Genres: 60% Angst, 40% Fluff, Yandere!AU, Inspired by Death Note

➜ Summary: You’ve always had feelings for Park Jimin, star soccer player and cute boy-next-door. But it’s been unrequited for years and you expect it to continue that way. Or at least until a certain notebook falls into your hands.

➜ Warning: toxic relationships, loosely implied smut, some victim blaming. This is not your typical love story.

Keep reading

✦。𓂃 ELECTRO GIRLS !! 、

( # > < )  some matching icons + headers <3 ꒷꒦ art 4 icons: sakonlieur on twt (couldn’t find credits for the headers) ꒦꒷ — like or reblog if used

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* YOU HAVE RECEIVED A LETTER, LET’S SEE WHAT’S INSIDE! *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

salutations: WRATH (villain!darling sagau part 2)

content: spoilers to mondstadt - inazuma archon quests, violence, angst/no-comfort, heavily religious themes

note: tysm to those who love my first ever sagau fic esp to @nicebonescomrade who is an amazing writer ! feel free to check out their fics <<3

penpals: @creation-magician , @creatorofstars , @victoria1676 , @I-chaan, @pyromaniam , @sweet-seraphim , @h3apm3ch4n151m , @heehoe, @moon--kitty, @yukete , @ognenniyvolk, @strawberrychan0

part one | part two (here!)

…

there had been reports from adventurers claiming that there were no signs of hilichurls and abyss for weeks now.

the imposter had been long gone for what felt like months. everyone was more than happy that they had successfully defended their divine god’s identity with all their might and served justice to the sinner, who’s probably dead by now.

everyone concluded that the abyss disappearing was a good thing for the city - especially for the acting grandmaster jean, who was more than happy that she has less things to worry about now.

people started roaming around the nation of freedom without any worries besides wild creatures like wolves. hunters can easily hunt for boars without facing a hilichurl or abyss mages, adventurers can no longer worry about encountering those ruin guards and hunters in destroyed ruins, and dragonspine felt a little more safe now that there were no more frostarm lawachurls.

it felt like this was a gift from their grace that they oh-so worshipped to.

venti had also thought that this was a reward from the divine creator themselves for banishing the fiend imposter that dared to commit such blasphemy, only to think otherwise when the winds stopped talking to him.

everywhere venti goes, he could no longer feel the winds unlike before. although it was still there, it felt as though it had been ignoring venti for something.

he didn’t fail to notice the fact that dvalin and andrius have also disappeared, leaving the worried bard alone with mondstadt’s obliviousness to the situation.

just what is the cause behind all of this?

without any wind to talk to, venti could no longer keep on track on his long old friend who took care of the imposter and banned them from liyue as well.

not to mention the fact that there are three cases of people disappearing that caused the knights of favonius to panic.

venti was surprised to hear that kaeya, albedo, and klee have all disappeared. no one didn’t even see or recall anything regarding the three - especially from rosaria, sucrose, and timaeus, who were the closest to the two men who have disappeared.

although this case is most likely not involved, the bard couldn’t help but think that this must have something to do with the imposter.

so, venti decided to set out on a journey to visit liyue and check up on the retired geo archon, wanting to know if he too had faced such cases in his nation.

before he could step out of his beloved city, the winds suddenly grew stronger and harsh, causing everyone outside to stop what they were doing and process what’s happening.

it didn’t take long before venti heard the familiar sounds of dvalin’s roar.

“BARBATOS!” the bard felt his heart dropped from the voice of andrius, looking around the city in confusion. what is andrius doing here?

he then started to notice one of the men that mondstadt has been looking for, his eyes widens when he spots kaeya’s other eye that’s now exposed.

a shadow suddenly looms over venti, causing him to look up and see the spirit of andrius staring back at him with anger and hatred.

“you shall pay for the sins you’ve committed against our divine god.”

—

there had been reports from liyuean citizens that dogs have suddenly disappeared.

it was a strange occurrence indeed, but it wasn’t enough for zhongli to worry about. he thought that there was no need to intervene in such an incident that doesn’t endanger his city, thinking that the qixing and millelith can handle it on their own.

or so he thought.

not long after, there had also been reports from adventurers who claimed that there are no longer hilichurls or other monsters in sight – especially the infamous pyro regisvine and the primogeovishap themselves.

liyue was confused, surprised even. what is the cause of what one would consider..

a miracle?

the qixing then concluded that perhaps this was a sign from the divine creator themself as gratitude for defending their identity, causing everyone to cheer and consider this as a celebration.

as much as zhongli desires to send his prayers to his god as thanks for the kind gesture, he decided to check up on... a certain creature that he once considered as a friend.

when he visited the familiar cave that he and the traveler encountered, there were no signs of azhdaha around the place, much to his shock.

is this truly a blessing?

the retired archon could only think about how his divine creator must’ve been proud of his people and him for dealing with the sinner swiftly. just thinking about the praises he’d received from his creator makes his heart skip a beat.

“i wonder what happened that made you so happy, mr. zhongli.” childe spoke up with a smile as the two of them continued to dine in on wanmin restaurant’s finest dishes. “did you manage to win a lottery or something?”

despite what happened back then after faking his death, childe continued to hang out with zhongli much to his surprise (despite the huge tension around them).

though, he has to admit, the tension between him and the harbinger has grown.. stronger.

the consultant lets out a chuckle. “it is much better than winning a lottery, childe.” he replies, taking a sip of his tea before he continues, “have you heard of an imposter visiting liyue with the face of our divine creator?”

childe laughs. “oh i see now. you must’ve been proud of your people when they pushed the imposter to the sea.”

zhongli couldn’t help but shift a bit in his seat, feeling suspicious with the tensed atmosphere.

“i must say, i feel a bit jealous that the creator became generous with your nation. snezhnaya on the other hand became colder than ever.” childe commented, paying no mind to the consultant’s gestures.

it took a few moments of silence before zhongli spoke up again.

“...what is your reason for coming back here, childe?”

the harbinger continues to smile. “what do you mean? i just came here to see if the rumors are true, of course!”

“surely the tsaritsa would’ve given you another task to do, aren’t i right?” zhongli retorts, copying childe’s expression. “you would’ve come back to your home right now since the celebration has come to an end.”

“oh, but i’m not here just for your celebration!” childe exclaims, letting out an amused laugh.

the consultant furrowed his eyebrows. “what do you mean?”

“i’m talking about our god’s celebration, of course!”

as soon as those words slipped from the harbinger’s mouth, zhongli suddenly felt the ground shaking, now noticing how the sky has grown dark along with how the waves of the sea have grown stronger than ever.

it can’t be.

as everyone started panicking in realization that the harbor is in danger, childe could only laugh manically.

“you got me, mister zhongli,” he spoke up, standing up from his seat as everyone starts to evacuate.

“just so you know, i actually only came here to see the look on your face when you realized that you are no longer wanted by our divine creator.” he explains, watching as zhongli’s eyes widens in horror at the sight of osial rising once more.

“after all, it’s what you deserve for harming our grace.”

---

ei could only frown from the memory of the thunder manifestation saving the imposter from her wrath.

has the manifestation been fooled by the imposter and think that they’re their beloved creator? she wondered to herself, pacing back and forth in her plane of euthymia as her prototype-self deals with the aftermath of the failed attempt of the imposter’s execution.

not to mention the fact that yae miko had recently come up to the archon regarding a concerning amount of reports related to inazuma’s... change of state.

it confused ei that yae would come up to her just to bring up something the tenryou commission can handle on their own, only to think otherwise when she first read the documents.

some had reported about how the rain in yashiori island has returned once more, only this time it had begun to grow stronger and unstoppable. some had reported about how tsurumi island’s fog had returned as well and became bigger to the point where it had almost reached the rest of the islands. one had also mentioned about how the legendary maguu kenki has started to move away from his arena, killing anyone that comes out of its way to an unknown destination.

what made ei decide to come out was a certain document that mentioned both mondstadt and liyue’s troubles, all going through similar things as inazuma.

the thought that maybe, just maybe that the imposter that she had almost killed with her own hands was the very being that made her pursue eternity almost brought ei down on her knees in regret.

it can’t be them. she thought, her heart beating rapidly as she heads to the road that will take her to ritou and visit liyue —

she stops her tracks when a sudden explosion appears by the entrance of inazuma city.

“guards, head towards the commotion now!” she yelled and continued running once more, hoping that it was just an accidental experiment from yoimiya and nothing super serious as the guards followed her.

by the time she arrived, her eyes landed on yours.

there you were, standing in front of the huge smoke with a dull look on your face. no longer was the imposter disguised as someone else with the help of a cloak,

now stood the divine creator themself amidst the chaos around them and ei, whose breath hitches in realization and regret.

“you..” you spoke up, your voice now confident and vengeful instead of frightened and weak as you walked towards the archon. “you are a disgrace to teyvat for performing an execution against your god.”

ei’s heart tightens from the words you said that once slipped from her lips during your execution, now knowing that she had indeed messed up badly.

“do you remember me, ei?” you ask, walking towards the woman as the golden wolflord comes out from the smoke with rifthounds following, causing everyone to panic from the sight of the beasts that belong to the tsurumi island.

ei stood still, her hands shaking. of course she remembers you.

“tell me, did you remember when the kamisato clan offered me to you as i beg for your mercy?” you ask again, bringing out a sword that she used to try and execute you.

ei didn’t bother asking where you had gotten that sword.

“i… i didn’t know any better.” ei spoke up, slowly walking backwards as you come closer and closer. “i didn’t know it was really yo—”

“no one did!” you yelled, ignoring the lightning that suddenly struck down the city from your outburst. “no one bothered to think that i wasn’t an imposter - you didn’t even let me explain myself!”

the woman felt her posture falter, her heart couldn’t handle the fact that she had disappointed you, the very being that gave her a reason to not give up.

“forgive me.. forgive me your grace—”

“you have no right to call me that anymore, you’ve lost your right as an acolyte.”

her lips quivered, her weapon dropped to the ground. “please, give me another chance, your grace! i regret my foolish decision in mistaking you as an impo—”

you let out a loud laugh. “and why should i give you a chance when you haven’t given me one before? you and the rest of the archons are indeed fools!”

ei’s shoulders began to tense from the sounds of her people screaming and crying out for help as rifthounds attacked them. she should’ve known better- she shouldn't have believed those fools from the kamisato clan—!

she held her breath when you suddenly placed your finger under her chin, making her realize that you’re now in front of her.

you then made her look up to your eyes, the eyes that are now glowing gold instead of the original color of your orbs.

you grinned. “maybe I can forgive you and your pathetic city... when you’re on your knees and beg like the filthy dog you are~”

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

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

(an incredibly long answer under the cut!)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Honorable Or Not(Scaramouche)

Summary: You are a nuisance to Scaramouche’s mission objective, and he loathes people like you. However, he does not plan to end your life right away.

A/N: Some scara being awful!! This idea has been on mind a while back but then JJK brainrot happened. I love the power trippling trope too much smh

Content warning: Gender-neutral reader,violence, corruption kink, unedited, plot twist ending

People like you makes Scaramouche feel sick.

Always so cheerful and enthusiastic, ready to help others at the blink of an eye, and that smile.

Those qualities stirred something in him.

The sentiment is well above and beyond normal irritation, and he cannot quite put a label on it yet.

However, Scaramouche can at least be certain of one thing. He wants to see that sweet façade of yours break. A captain of the knights of Favonius. Who came from a modest middle-class family and landed on a commanding position by nothing but your own merits? The ultimate embodiment of chivalry? Diligent, skilled and that readiness to help the weak.

You pose a major threat to his current mission.

All captains of Favonis do, to be frank. But he finds you so much more irritating compare to that shady looking calvary captain, or that pathetic exucse of a Lawerance.

Scaramouche does not plan to kill you unless the situation calls for it, however. He wants to break you first instead.

Your privileged origins never gave you any opportunities, to wonder on the other side.

What are you, under all those layers of righteous ideals?

Where would you be without that long list of morals and principles?

Oh, how Scaramouche takes joy in seeing, those laughable confident faces distorted with fear! Those used to look down on him as if he is lower then dust, groveling at his feet, begging for his mercy.

With that eagerness to please others, the Harbinger thought you would be quite gullible.

He was proven right when one of his underlings lured you out of town alone, by just claiming to be needing some help with broken carriages. How easy, too easy perhaps.

How you manage to pull yourself up after being subjected to his electroshock is extraordinary. As expected from a high-ranking knight of Favonis, Scaramouche scoofs. But he still got you in his camp, far away from the city of the wind. Better do your best to entertain him, during your stay here.

So you can imagine the shock the little man feels, when you draw your sword at him as if nothing has happened. The way you put down his men is impressive even to the sixth of the Fatui Harbingers.

An electro vision...how did he missed that? Of course you are more resistant to shocks if you have that little gem, it was foolish of him.

You are one of that woman’s chosen...

That smile on your lips.

It is not those warm, daily ones you wear around town. Nor it is one of those encouraging ones you show to your subordinates. Sinister is one way to describe it.

“What kind of fool do you take me for?” Furrowing your brow at blood stains on your armor? Do you know who you are dealing with here?

So, this is what you hide under that jovial demeanor. A cruel beast, with little regard to human lives you deem unworthy.

“Two can play this game, Master Harbinger. I believe the acting Grand master would be pleased to hear I captured a Fatui officier alive.”

This is way more interesting than Scaramouche had ever imagined.

But you know how the saying goes. It's no fun if you do not resist a little.

Wealth, Fame and Power? Perfection.

Summary: SAGAU but you're from a Historical Manhwa.

Warnings:

"This place is huge…" Venti whispered, enough for the other two Archons and the Alchemist to hear—in which they nodded in agreement. It was a huge Mansion. Every corner is cleaned, flowers on every vases and decorations that seemed to be more expensive than they thought.

They tried to find you. But there are too many maids everywhere. They can't let their presence known or else this wouldn't be a secret mission to retrieve you to Teyvat. And based on how everyone here moves, they know that they're preparing for something.

"Do you think the Duke/Duchess would like this?" The maid questioned the tall man who was wearing a black suit, observing the entire Mansion with his own eyes, trying to perfect everything. The tall man looked at the maid and just sighed. "The Duke/Duchess hates flashy things. Keep that out of sight." The tall man ordered. The maid apologised and rushed to hide the said item.

"Is everything perfect?" The tall man shouted, gathering everyone's attention. All of them gave him their nods, and thumbs ups—proudly presenting that they did their work properly.

"Why are they doing this? Who is the Duke/Duchess?" Albedo asked, still hiding behind some sort of a wall with the other Archons. "I don't know either. But that 'Duke/Duchess' seems to be a respectable person." Zhongli answered, trying to lower his deep voice. "But we should be careful-" as Ei was trying to warn the others, one of the guards that was positioned in the front door announced something.

"The Duke/Duchess— Y/N of the L/N clan has arrived! Pay your respects!"

Suddenly, everyone bowed down and the door opened. revealing- "Your Grace?!" Venti shouted, his voice still lowered but enough for the other three to hear.

You stepped inside the Mansion—clothes that look like it costs a million mora, gemstones, and the other expensive decorations make you look ethereal.

"WE GREET YOUR HIGHNESS!"

This is just a short brainrot! I was about to make reader like a Crown Prince/Princess but nah that's too much work.

Taglist: @chibikiibielle @xyliope @dapperishere @under-a-starry-night @zhongchi14 @ognenniyvolk @callmemeelah

tagging someone completely unrelated because "what do you guys think?" @willowedwisteria @nicebonescomrade @impinthecloset @bamboowrites @is-very-sad @i-put-the-yan-in-polyandry i forgot the others wait-