Latest Posts by koyoim - Page 2

To the stranger I knew too well

Summary: When your recurrent dreams about a puppet become out of hand, a reality check feels like the only way to get back to normalcy. Fate proves you wrong.

Pairing: Wanderer & gn!reader (post Irminsul), the relationship is heavily implied to be platonic

Content warnings: Reader is gender neutral, mentions of blood and murders but I don't go into details, slight angst, Wanderer is bad with feelings, platonic content

Word count: 7.2k | Soulmate AU

Comments: A special thank to my beta @ladyfocalors for always brainrotting with me about Genshin characters. We'll platonify the Genshin soulmate AU one work at the time /lh

It took you years to understand that your frequent lucid dreams about an Inazuman electricity-wielder leader were actually the memories of your soulmate.

To your parents' defense, every normal individual would have dismissed the idea. While your soulmate wearing an extravagant hat wasn’t impossible, your tales about a place shrouded in darkness and an Electro-user without a Vision sounded like a child's fantasy. There was no such thing in Teyvat.

You quickly got the reputation of an imaginative kid. Adults liked to ask you about your dreams.

"What a smart child you are!", they cooed once you finished recalling your visions. "You could write a storybook!"

Your younger self would shoot them the dirtiest glare they could muster. Unfortunately, adding that the protagonist was a puppet made hundreds of years ago was not the convincing argument you thought it was. To the layperson, your visions were nonsensical dreams.

But you knew what you saw. It felt real. Terribly, shockingly real. Most often that not, you woke up from these flashes with the taste of iron in your mouth, static filling your sight, your muscles locked into place. You were trapped in your own unresponsive body. Even your breath was stuck in your throat. But the worst part of your awakenings was the sticky feeling on your hands. No matter how many times you scrubbed, it lingered on your skin. You didn't know what it was at that time, just that it made you feel gross and that it would sometimes reappear if you washed your hands hard enough.

You learnt what blood was before you knew how to spell the color red. 

When one is repeatedly told that they're wrong, they will come to believe it. You were no exception. As the years passed by, you pushed those fantasies in the back of your mind. The adults in your life must have been right. You were just a strange kid with gruesome dreams, that was all.

Despite knowing that they were figments of your vivid imagination, the sights of snow-covered plains and bloody massacres haunted you well into adulthood. They had grown more complex. Details you didn’t notice as a child seemed obvious now that you had more experience. You could also recall conversations better. That’s how you learnt the name of the body you inhabited. Well, it was more correct to say you learnt multiple names for them. Kabukimono, Kunikuzushi, Scaramouche, the Balladeer... It was like you could never make up your mind.

The puppet you temporarily inhabited was as elusive as the wind: no fixed name to call them and no face to match. They fled mirrors when they saw one, preventing you from seeing their appearance. The only thing you knew about them was their title: number Sixth of the Fatui Harbinger. A seat that was left vacant for centuries according to every Fatuus you asked.

Your constant daydreaming was annoying but manageable until you started having visions about Kunikuzushi taking over Sumeru. You saw them getting experimented on to become one with a robot, wincing in pain at the hands of a masked doctor, rambling about their birth-given right to access godhood, taunting a blonde traveler; a chain of events that could only make sense in a dream. The problem was that your reverie was affecting your daily life. You couldn’t go through a day without getting assailed by memories that weren’t yours. You had to stop halfway through any task, discussing became hard and sleep rarely came to you.

There was little you could do as you didn’t know what had worsened your visions. You were hoping it would go away by itself.

That was until a particularly haunting dream. As usual, you were but a spectator seeing through the Balladeer’s eyes. You saw a hand -their hand- reach for a chess piece, leaning forward as much as they could. Your blood went cold. They were about to fall over the edge of the platform! Your gaze darted everywhere. There was nothing on the distant ground that would break their fall. For the first time in your life, you realized that they could die. Scaramouche, the one you had observed for decades, could die.

You were the only one to realize how far they were leaning. They only had eyes for the violet pawn in front of them, begging and begging with a shaky voice. It had never sounded so frail, so raw with hurt and panic.

"Please, anything but the Gnosis!" 

It’s not worth it! you tried to scream. Stop! You didn't know why this Gnosis was so important to them but it was nothing dying for. Alas, no matter how hard you tried to move your mouth, the body refused to answer to you. You were nothing but a witness of a tragic scene, a powerless ghost with a bleeding heart. Your throat was thick with emotions you were not allowed to express.

Your dream ended in a snap, quite literally. A tearing sound erupted from behind you before you were sent falling down, pain flaring in your back. You bit down a scream as the world turned to blurry shades of blue and fluttering black bangs. The increasing speed made your eyes water and your body burn. You clenched your teeth. The fall was inevitable. Maybe it made you a coward but you couldn't bear to see it. You didn’t want to see Kunikuzushi die. Muttering an apology to the stranger in your dreams, you squeezed your teary eyes shut. 

The last thing you heard was a wet crushing sound, a mix between eggshells broken under the palm of your hand and a fruit being squashed. Your body jolted in your bed and you gagged, fighting the urge to throw up. You had never felt this sick. Not even when you dreamt of unfair massacres.

You sank to the floor, furiously wiping away the tears beading in the corner of your eyes. You couldn't do it anymore. You had to confront your dreaming problem. There was only one solution: if your brain was so adamant on obsessing over an imaginary character, you had to show it the harsh reality, to remind yourself that Kabukimono never existed.

Your trip to Sumeru was the most spontaneous project you ever planned. You were strolling through the busy streets of Sumeru city the very next day with barely enough money to get back to your nation. You had packed the bare minimum in your suitcase to carry it easily, meaning you wouldn’t be able to stay for more than just a few days.

That was, if you found a room for the night. You had no time to check what the usual prices were in the capital before leaving. Now that you were scouring the streets with your meager funds, unable to find a hotel within your budget, you were bitterly regretting your lack of foresight. You sighed. You supposed that the saying was right. Slow and steady wins the race.

As if it had felt your determination dwindling, the crushing sound echoed in your mind in response. You bit your lip, bile rising in your throat. You hadn't been able to forget about your last dream. It looped in your head like a broken record. Even if impulsively leaving your country was one of your worst ideas ever, the quicker you settled your daydream problem the sooner you'd be back to your normal life. 

Your weary steps lead you to an indoor bazaar. The smell of fried food filled your nostrils, making your stomach growl. You winced. The small homemade sandwich you had earlier couldn't compete with the appeal of street food. Unfortunately you needed to save your funds for a room. You let your gaze wander in the crowded marketplace, trying to distract yourself from the appetizing smell. Colorful stalls were full of fresh fruits, potted flowers and intricate trinkets. If you stood on your toes, you could even see a small theater representation in the farthest part of the bazaar. It was a lively place that perfectly encapsulated Sumeru’s charm.

You were about to turn back when your eyes stopped on a blue silhouette near a candy stand. You didn't know how you missed them earlier. In the brown and green crowd, their traditional clothing and their ornamented Inazuman hat stuck out like a sore thumb. They were in deep discussion with the merchant. Turquoise fabric trailed behind them, floating in the wind.

Without a second thought, you cut through the crowd, never leaving the stranger from your sight. Your heart leaped in your chest when they left the small stall. 

"Hey, you with the hat! Stop!" you yelled. To your dismay, the Inazuman did not even slow down. They must have been too far to hear you. Breaking into a sprint, you called again. "Hat guy!" 

You breached the distance in a few seconds. Just as you were about to grab their shoulder, they turned around. A cold hand snatched your wrist, making you wince. When you looked at its owner, you were greeted with a deep scowl and narrowed indigo eyes. 

"Don't." The man’s low voice warned you, his tone full of unspoken threats. You swallowed uncomfortably as your confidence melted away. He managed to be intimidating in spite petite stature and youthful appearance.

As he glared daggers at you, you were hit by a feeling you couldn’t quite place. You pressed your lips together, studying his messy black mullet and his glowing Anemo Vision. The word popped up in your head. Familiar. The stranger felt familiar.

Wiping the feeling of déjà-vu from your mind, you retreated your hand. "Sorry, I was just trying to get your attention." 

"Well, now you have it," he huffed. Annoyance was written on his face. He crossed his arms. "What do you want?" 

A good question, but not one you had an answer to. Running after the man was a spur of the moment decision.

Self-awareness striked you like a thunderbolt. Why were you even doing this? Your goal was to cure your daydreaming, not to throw yourself headfirst into the rabbit hole nor to annoy a stranger with the tales of an imaginary character.

He clicked his tongue. "Hurry. I don't have all day." 

You huffed. It was true that you were taking too much time to gather your thoughts but he didn’t have to be rude about it. 

"I'm looking for someone,” you said tentatively. It was the closest you could get from the truth without annoying him. Considering his foul mood, the stranger would have walked away if you told him you were looking for the lack of existence of Kunikuzushi, the Sixth Harbinger, the person who tried to become an Archon, someone that only existed in your mind.

The man didn't answer, encouraging you to continue with a movement on the head. His black bangs flew in the light breeze. Now that you had a clearer view of his face, the man seemed more bored than irritated. He wanted the conversation to be over with but he still had the patience to hear you out. This realization gave you the courage you needed to talk again. 

"Their clothes are quite similar to yours, but they're red and black. They also have a hat. A huge one." You opened your arms in emphasis.

He scrunched his brows together, looking at you like you were an idiot. "Right. Because the length of their hat is the most important detail you could give me," he deadpanned. 

You fight the urge to sigh. "I wasn't done. I don't know much about them, but they're linked to the Fatui." The stranger's eyes narrowed in suspicion. He was back to glaring at you, his face closed. Unsettled by this sudden tension, you quickly added. "Probably. I'm still not sure about that." There was no Sixth Fatui Harbinger, after all. Your brain had made it up. 

"Of course." His voice was drier than earlier. What little interest he had in your discussion had melted at the mention of the Fatui. You scrunched your brows. You swore you could read another emotion than ire in his eyes, even if you didn’t know what. "Anything else I should know about that... Friend of yours?"

You racked your brain for more details. There was a lot to say about the person in your dream. Their lack of heart, their coup attempt in Sumeru, their bloody killings, the experimentations they underwent... Nothing you could talk about in public without looking crazy, in sum. The only thing you could still mention was... 

"Their name is Scaramouche."

The man went rigid. "What did you say?" he gawked, his eyes wide with shock.

"Scaramouche. I think that's their name?" Truthfully, they were given so many names that it probably wasn't their real one. But it was the one that came up most in your dreams. 

As if it caught onto the tense atmosphere, the wind abruptly stopped blowing. You barely noticed it, focused on the horror shining in the man's eyes. He couldn't believe what you had just said. His piercing eyes analyzed every inch of you with a newfound distrust. 

“Nobody should be able to-” He interrupted himself with a gasp. Recognition flashed across his face. "Wait. You...!"

His face went from surprise to disgust in the blink of an eye. You had barely the time to react before he pulled his hat down over his head, his scowl peeking from behind the rim.

"Of course fate would string something like this..." He let out a bitter laugh. "Has it ever made anything easy for me?"

You watched as crossed his arms, lifting his head to glare at you as if you had purposely wronged him. You tried to appease him by apologizing. "Sorry, did I say something wrong?"

Despite your question, you knew you had done nothing worth this cold attitude. You didn’t know why he was overreacting, why he was looking at you like dirt under his soles.  It’s as if he was personally offended by your description of the Balladeer. You blinked as pieces fell into place. An Inazuman with a strange hat and dark hair, just like the one you were looking for. Could it be…?

"Is that you? Are you Scaram—" 

The man turned around before you could finish your sentence, the blue fabric tied to his hat smacking you in the face. You yelped in pain.

"Don’t use this name." You couldn't see what kind of expression he was making but his flat tone told you enough.

You were standing in front of the protagonist of your dreams.

Reality shattered around you. There were only two reasons for your dreams to be visions of the past. You either were a seer —which was unlikely considering you had no elemental affinity— or you were using your soulmate link. Realization sank in. You had a soulmate. Everything finally clicked together: why you had Scaramouche's memories, why he recognized you, why you never stopped having those dreams… It was because the universe had deemed you a perfect fit.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears. You were not an anomaly without a soulmate, like you were led to believe. You just didn't pay attention to the signs.

"Wait a minute," you gasped. No matter how happy you were about your discovery, it came a lot of terrible implications. "Does it mean that everything is real? The Fatui, the taking over Sumeru part, everything ?" 

Kunikuzushi immediately clammed up. Not even bothering to look at you, he said without a trace of emotion. "This conversation is over."

Strong wind currents flared all around you with him acting as the epicenter of the small storm he invoked. You stared at him with wide eyes. He was getting away! 

"Please!"

You grabbed his sleeve and tugged hard, adrenaline pumping through your veins. The man gave you the dirtiest glare from above his shoulder as the miniature hurricane intensified. But you didn't let him go. You sank your nails deeper into his arm.

"Listen to me!” you said through gritted teeth. “I'm not gonna pretend I know everything about you because that's not true. I only know glimpses of you. Parts of your past that don't make any sense." 

You closed your eyes as the memories flooded your mind. The Gnosis, the laboratory, the crushing sound as he fell down... You didn't understand what those events meant to him. What kind of story they told. It was like you were in front of an incomplete puzzle where all edge pieces went missing. It was impossible to get the big picture no matter how many combinations you tried.

That didn’t mean the little bits of memories you had taught you nothing about him.

"You were hurt. That much is certain."

Your words only rekindled the fire of his ire. He bared his teeth at you. “Huh?! Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?” He stabbed your chest with his finger, forcing you to take a step back. “Seeing glimpses of my past doesn’t give you the right to assume things about me, you worm.”

"But it’s not an assumption. You lived a very long and lonely life. A bloody one too.” You briefly wondered if contrary to you, he had grown accustomed to seeing his hands covered in crimson. You let out a shaky exhale. “But you cannot talk about your life to anyone. No one would believe you if you talked about the Sixth Harbinger of the Fatui or what you were doing centuries ago."

You had the experience to back yourself up. You still weren't sure what the Fatui thing was all about but if you could barely believe it after seeing his memories firsthand, no one else could.

"See, you’re just assuming things again out of pity," Scaramouche snapped. He tore himself from your grasp, sneering. "Guess what? I don't need you to feel sorry about me."

You shook your head. "I wasn't about to."

You were never going to forget the feeling of blood on your hands, the crackling of electricity as you saw someone charred alive, the coolness of a cadaver against your skin. You couldn't bring yourself to feel sorry for this man. It wasn't what someone like him sought. 

Pity was for those forced to live under the ruling of unfairness, not able to object to its cruel laws. Forgiveness was for those that were mothered by this tyrant and dedicated their life to preach its teachings. For now, the Balladeer deserved none of them.

When you opened your eyes, Scaramouche had tipped his hat down, obscuring his expression. His grip on his crossed arms was so tight you thought he was going to break his fingers. 

"You don't understand. You can't understand."

His voice was lower than earlier, almost like a growl. 

It wasn't enough to scare you.

"You're right," you admitted. "I cannot understand you. But I really want to." 

Maybe it was because you knew him on a deeper level than a stranger, but something had changed. You were starting to notice it. The hurt he masked behind a veil of fury. Until his words, you thought he was just an eternally angry man, bitter at the world and at his fate. Now, you wondered if he was just someone who lived through too much. Someone who was ready to beg and kill himself for a glimpse of a better future.

He snorted, disbelief written across his face. “A human like you, understanding someone like me? Don’t make me laugh.” He leaned towards you. You fought the urge to take a step back, withholding his stare with all of the courage you could summon. His mouth contorted into a twisted smile. “You’ve seen what I am capable of. Not only are you fundamentally unable to relate to a fraction of my existence, you’re also unable to withstand it. Understanding me will only bring you trouble.”

“You already do.” Scaramouche didn't utter a word, turning his back to you. You didn't let it get to you, instead squeezing your hand against your chest. "I spent my life stuck with visions I couldn't control. Seeing your memories at random moments robbed me from precious moments with the people I love. From enjoying a normal life, one where I don’t have to fear falling asleep."

Your hands were shaking. Whether from anger or sorrow, you didn’t know. Scaramouche was the one assuming things. You may only be a human, one similar to thousands that have come before you, but you knew how it felt to be misunderstood. How it felt not to belong. Nobody had believed you for decades, nor understood why you were so uncomfortable when it came to sleeping. Even your friends couldn’t wrap their heads about your constant worry of getting lost in the daydreaming. You might as well have been from a different species.

You took a deep exhale. Your anger faded away as quickly as it came. "I feel close to you, no matter how strange it sounds. You've always been a small part of me.” Determination seeped through your tone. “So I won't be able to move on as long as I don't know what's going on with my soulmate."

Soulmate. The word rolled strangely on your tongue. It was the first time you were saying it out loud.

Scaramouche gagged at your word choice. "I'm not looking for a lover." Disgust laced his voice. Seems like you were not the only one who felt weird about the whole situation. 

You shook his concern with a wave of the hand. "Me neither. I'm looking for an explanation. A timeline in a chronological order, if possible." 

Your attempt at a joke fell flat as silence fell between the two of us. Your face shifted into a frown. Had you been too insistent? 

"It's alright if you find the situation strange," you said, trying to save the conversation. "I'm not sure how I feel about the fact that you saw glimpses of my life. This is quite embarrassing...."

You didn't have the most exciting life but there were private moments you wanted nobody to see. Especially not your soulmate. 

He shot you an uninterested look, examining the dirt beneath his nails. "I could not care less about your mundane life."

You blinked. You didn't expect him to get interested in your life as much as you were in his, but was that supposed to be comforting? Unsure how to respond, your face contorted into a polite smile.

None of you said a word after that. You didn't dare move either. Weariness taking over you, you watched as the back of his hair fluttered in the breeze, joining the hypnotizing dance of the blue ribbons. The sound of animated conversations and the ringing of distant bells filled the otherwise tense silence.

You were about to leave when Scaramouche let out the heaviest sigh known to mankind. He finally turned to you, uttering a single word. 

"Wanderer."

Whatever you were expecting him to say, it wasn't that. "Come again?" 

He rolled his eyes but repeated it anyway. "Wanderer. That’s my name. Not Scaramouche or whatever name you heard in my memories." 

You felt your entire face lit up. You could recognize an olive branch when you saw one. "I won't call you anything else, I promise!"

He sighed at your sudden excitement, shaking his head. You were starting to recognize when he was truly irritated and when he was acting annoyed by habit. This time, the look in his eyes didn't match his bored pout. It was not soft by any means, but he did not glare daggers at you anymore.

"I still don’t think someone like you can handle the tale of centuries of existence.” He clicked his tongue. “That being said, I suppose it would be entertaining to see you try. Come to the entrance of Sumeru city in two hours."

Your eyes widened. You thought that you wouldn’t get more than his name, and now he gave you the opportunity to explain his life ? You had half the mind to pinch yourself awake.

"Don't be late Wanderer!" 

He scoffed, readjusting the position of his ginormous hat. “If I were, you'd scream my name in the streets of Sumeru until you get ahold of me. No thanks."

"I wouldn't do that!"

"Oh, really?" A smug smirk took place on his lips. He cleared his throat before taking a high-pitched voice. " 'Hey, you with the hat, stop right there ! I really want to talk to you! Stop, I say !' "

You gasped in shock. "So you actually heard me! Do you not stop when someone calls you?"

"I do. I just don't typically talk to pipsqueaks."

His grin deepened at seeing your offended expression. He even let out a short laugh. You playfully punched the cheeky bastard on the shoulder, not putting much force in the blow. 

Wanderer didn't budge. He instead grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from him. His eyebrows were pinched together in irritation. "Don’t think you can punch me and get out unscathed, kid."

Despite his words, his grasp on you was light, as if he was careful not to hurt you. It was easy to slip from his hold. He was entertaining you, you realized. Considering how harsh he had been when you first had tried to touch him, a light scold was nothing. 

Mimicking a fighting stance, you started shifting your weight from left to right.

"You're the one who's gonna bite the dust! I can knock out someone with a single blow!" You punched the air to demonstrate, a smile blooming on your face. "I can take anyone in a fight!" 

Wanderer pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated by your playful attitude. "Celestia above, not another Childe..."

You pouted at his words. "Are you calling me a child again? I'll let you know that I'm a fully-fledged adult!" You may not be as old as the immortal puppet but you were no kid by human standards. You were only teasing Wanderer because you needed something light after your heavy talk. He couldn’t base his whole perception of you on a speech stemming from your sleep-deprived self…

He clicked his tongue in his mouth before looking at you directly in the eyes. "You talk big for someone I've seen fall in the stairs several times."

Horror washed over you. Every little embarrassing moment you lived flooded your mind. The fact that Wanderer had seen some of them sent warmth pooling in your cheeks. 

"You said you didn't care about my life!" you said, absolutely mortified. 

"It doesn't mean watching you was not mildly entertaining. Why would I focus on boring Fatui politics talk when I could be the witness to the mess of your teenage years?” Your expression was decomposing by the second, to his delight. "I especially liked it when—"

You cut him off with a nervous laugh. "Alright, alright, I get it. Aren't you busy?" 

His gaze fell into a small pouch at his sides. "I do, actually. Buer must be looking for me."

"Buer? Who's that?" You didn't remember hearing this name in his memories.

"The Dendro Archon," he said like it was the most obvious thing on Teyvat. 

"...Right. Of course.”

Maybe you were a bit too optimistic about his ability to open up to you.

Wanderer couldn't believe himself. Three betrayals should have been enough to teach him that closeness only brought pain. Whether because of misunderstandings, lies or the unpredictable and unescapable scythe of Death, the ending was always the same: he was fated to end up hurt. Alone. Cursing himself for loving too much.

He snorted. He knew all of that and yet here he was, wrapping his job up before his meeting with you. How pathetic.

Part of him was not surprised about this new twist of events. Fate liked to throw him in the most ironic situations. He was currently going on errands for Buer, the same Archon he had tried to supplant her months ago and who took him prisoner. Randomly meeting his soulmate in the middle of the streets was not the most unexpected thing to have happened to him. Far from it. At that point, he was surprised it hadn’t happened earlier.

When Wanderer entered the sanctuary of Surasthana, the Archon was sitting on her swing, humming to herself. The melancholic tune didn’t sound familiar but the lyrics in old Sumerian sang the tale of a love long gone. If he rolled his eyes at the song choice, he was polite enough to wait until the end of the song before clearing his throat.

Buer perked up, finally noticing him. She jumped from the swing and greeted him with a small wave.

"Hat guy!" He cocked an eyebrow at the oh so creative sobriquet, making her giggle. "I’m glad to see you. I was starting to think that you had forgotten about me."

"As if my memory would get faulty. I was held up by someone." Holding his hat to pin it into place, he sat on the lush grass. Reunions with Buer always took a while. He might as well make himself comfortable. 

Familiar curious green eyes landed on him. "Was it a friend from the Akademiya?"

He rolled his eyes. "I had never seen them before."

He had expected this flow of questions. Buer was very invested in his relationships with other people– well, rather his lack of. She had made him participate in social events like the Interdarshan championship to socialize. She even enrolled him in the Akademiya. Her argument was that it would help him understand humanity better, as well as himself. 

The results were arguably mixed. Wanderer admittedly tolerated people a bit better than before. They were predictable creatures but they could be entertaining. Sometimes. On the other hand, he had not grown close to anyone since he started attending classes. Sure, some students followed him around, gushing about the mysterious “hat guy” and throwing a birthday party for him, but he would not call them friends. They were classmates at most. It was for the best: it didn’t matter if Buer claimed he was progressing regarding socialization, talking to him was an experience he wished on no one.

She didn’t seem to agree with him. Excitement and pride shone in her eyes. "Every stranger is a friend in potentiality. That is what makes new meetings so exciting: you might be talking to your new favorite person in Teyvat," she beamed, taking place near him. 

"If you say so." 

Friendship was a human concept. Something he could neither fully understand or get. Melodramatic speeches and lengthy explanations meant nothing to him. That is why Wanderer didn’t try to counter her argument. There was no point in talking about something he knew nothing about.

What he did know was that Buer was wrong. You were no stranger to him.

His gaze fell to his hands. The first time he had seen your memories, Scaramouche had thought he was defective. He had never been able to dream until then. His creator didn’t see the interest in allowing him to do so. The only reason he knew what dreams were was because Niwa liked to recount his when they worked together in the forge. 

One second he was lying down in the laboratory of the Fatui, the other he was in a small bed. Piles of toys were scattered around him, decorating what seemed to be a child’s bedroom. Why on Teyvat was he here? Scaramouche tried to move his arm but it did not move an inch. He cursed under his breath. For some reason, his body refused to listen to him. If it was Il Dottore’s scheme, the man was dead.

Without a warning, his head turned. He was greeted by the reflection of a small child in the mirror of the wardrobe. You.

His mind had been pure madness when he had come back to his senses. He had the time to zap five machines before the Doctor arrived, complaining that his research was being destroyed. The Tsaritsa, the stars, fate itself... He had cursed everything he could think of for giving him a soulmate. There was no other reason behind his sudden ability to “dream”. Fate had decided to intertwine your destinies together. The thought only made him more angry.

He couldn't be mad at the child you were, though. You were barely five. No matter how much of an unfeeling person he was, Scaramouche was not about to hold the situation against someone as young as you. A small part of him, one he had tried to bury for centuries, had even ached to hold your chubby hands in his when he had seen you reach for your reflection.

With the impossibility of breaking a soulmate bond, the Fatui Harbinger had been forced to watch you as you grew. He learnt about your favorite color, the school subject you liked best, the names of your childhood friends, the color of your bedroom, all the details of your ordinary life. He was a spectator to mundane moments, to victories and horrific failures alike.

You had transformed from a kid with shining eyes to a determined adult before his eyes.

If Buer was right and that all friends started as strangers, it meant that you would never be able to grow close to him. You already knew him.

Wanderer plucked a few strands of grass, watching how they fell to the ground. No, hoping for you two to be friends was wishful thinking. You had seen the atrocities he had done as a Fatui Harbinger. Once he filled the gap in your knowledge, you would not want anything to do with him. His erasure from existence didn’t excuse the actions of his past life.

He would not blame you. He deserved your hate. At the end of the day you were another name on the endless list of his victims. Because of your soulmate link, you had lived your entire life plagued by visions you didn't understand, othered because of things out of your control. You were the proof that Wanderer brought suffering just by existing. That he wasn't a fundamentally good person, like the one Buer and Traveler insisted he was. You had every right to loathe him.

That was why he accepted your offer. If he explained everything to you, if he confirmed that every "dream" of yours was true, you would move on. You would forgive Fate for giving you such an unloving person as a soulmate. Maybe you would even want to settle down with someone else... At the end of the day, you'd be free from the chain of destiny. So would he.

The world would let him do a good thing, for a change. 

"While it's true that talking it out will appease both of your minds, you shouldn't only see them as a way to atone for the sins of your past life," Buer intervened. 

Wanderer gave her an unimpressed look, throwing away the rest of the grass strands. "One day, you will have to answer for all of those breaches of privacy before the General Mahamatra."

"Talking about your thoughts with someone else can help you sort them out and gain new insight. I felt like you could benefit from it."

Her growing smile told him that she didn't feel sorry for reading his mind without his consent. He huffed. She was lucky he had grown accustomed to this habit of hers.

She hummed as she stepped in front of him. "Agreeing to a meeting to ease your guilty conscience is not a bad thing in itself. The problem is that you’re assuming that they can only hate you."

“What other reaction could they have?” The answer appeared in his mind before he finished his sentence. “Pity?” Pronouncing the word made his insides hurl. Wanderer would rather feel your wrath than your pity. The former didn’t feel as disgusting as the other;

Buer shook her head. “That’s not it either. It’s alright if you don’t yet understand Wanderer, you will see in due time.”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. He preferred it when she used complex metaphors. At least he had the opportunity to understand what was going on in her mind, contrary to when she used vague words of wisdom like a drowsy prophet.

"If I can give you one more piece of advice, you should give this relationship a chance." Seeing his scowl of disgust, she explained herself. "I'm not telling you to pursue a romance with them. Just don't assume that tonight is the only time you meet. Keep your mind and your heart open."

Despite her smile, she had a serious look in her eyes. It was the face of wisdom in all of its assured glory. Wanderer closed his eyes. It was easy for him to forget she was not a young child, like the one he took care of all those centuries ago. 

"There is a reason why they're your soulmate," Buer said. "Don't you want to discover why?" 

"Someone like them has nothing in common with me." 

Your memories told the tale of a simple life. In an ideal world, a normal person like you wouldn't have been paired up with him. How it happened in this one was a mystery. If he was inclined to pity others, Wanderer would feel bad for you. Being his soulmate only brought you experiences that you couldn’t talk about to anyone.

“You cannot talk about your life to anyone. No one would believe you if you talked about the Sixth Harbinger of the Fatui or what you were doing centuries ago.” Their hands shook as they lifted their head to meet his gaze. He stilled. He had expected to read loneliness and fire in their eyes. He only found the glow of loneliness. It was the same he had seen in your reflection all those years ago.

Wanderer hid his face behind his hand. He supposed he was wrong. He could see a few ressemblances between you and him. That didn’t necessarily mean you would become friends.

"Don't expect too much from this meeting. I only plan on retelling my story, not on learning more about them."

Gentle hands covered his, pulling them away from his face before lightly squeezing them.

“You don’t need to. You already know them better than anyone else.” Buer's voice was as soft as her expression.

He opened his mouth but no snarky counter-argument came to his mind. From what little insight Wanderer had gained on friendship over the course of his life, sharing experiences with a potential friend wasn’t enough. You also had to learn about the other person's personality, their taste, the little things they did… Such a process was too much work for a relationship that would eventually decay. But the man already knew you, more intimately than any person ever would.

If to be friends was to learn about someone, he had become yours a long time ago.

Wanderer fought the urge to shield his face behind his hat. It would be as good as admitting to Buer her words had struck a chord. No way he would embarrass himself like that.

“You're not going to give up, are you?" he sighed.

“While I do hope you will form a bond with them, I will not hold it against you if it doesn’t happen.” She took some time to think, trying to come up with a convincing imagery. “Fate is a tricky concept. It steers you in a specific direction but it cannot force you to follow it. No matter what, you can always make your own way.”

He let the words sink in as he laid down on the cool grass. From the Sanctuary, he could hear the entire city’s hustle and bustle. The sound of the streets mixed with the chirping of the birds and the rustle of the wind through the branches.

He felt Buer sitting next to him. Her voice interrupted his quiet reverie, sounding cheekier than usual.

"Don't I deserve something in return for my good advice?"

Her eyes were focused on the small pouch hanging at his side.  He had forgotten about it, their conversation had distracted him. Wanderer shook his head in defeat. The Archon didn’t need to use her mind-reading powers to know about the actions of her subjects. 

“If you want to be paid for giving lectures, you should think about becoming a teacher at the Akademiya.”

“I would deprive someone from the joy of educating young minds.”

His lips curled into a grin. “Right. Poor them.”

Feeling her gaze on him, he relented. He unclipped the package from his belt and gave it to her, not bothering to sit back up. Buer tried to open it carefully. It was so full that in spite of her efforts, morsels of candied Ajilenakh nuts spilled on the ground.

Wanderer frowned at the sight of the mess. Something churned inside him. If he had known it would be wasted, he wouldn’t have bought so much food.

“Be more careful,” he chastised her. “It’s expensive.”

Buer shot him a perplexed look. He scoffed in response, averting his gaze. 

"I didn't buy them. The merchant gave free samples to bystanders and he couldn't take no for an answer."

Another white lie from him. He had noticed that Buer didn't have much candy left and since he had to go to the Bazaar anyway, he had decided to buy some. He watched as she inspected a piece of candy, rolling it between her fingers. He didn't get why she was head over heels for those disgustingly sweet nuts but he had to keep her in good spirits. Otherwise, she might decide to lock him back in his cell. That and seeing her smile so much sent warmth running in his chest. 

Her eyes crinkled, amused. "A free sample? How nice," she said, popping one of the delicacies in her mouth. He supposed there was no fooling the Archon of Knowledge. She pointed at him. "Your friend hasn't had the opportunity to try food from Sumeru, have they? You could bring them to Lambad’s and keep some of the Ajilenakh nuts to snack on."

“We have other things to do than distract ourselves with culinary tourism.”

“It’s not a distraction! See it as a bonding experience that will allow you to grow closer.”

He arched a brow, unimpressed. “As if I needed something like this to become their friend.”

He stopped after his own sentence. He blinked, not believing what he had just said.

Wanderer didn't know how he ended up in this situation. Truly. He was never one to let Fate decide for him. He defied it at each opportunity, fighting with all he had. This shouldn't have been any different. He was a traveler, an outcast, an outsider. He had no use for a soulmate– a lover. Especially not a human one, one that would be gone in a blink of his immortal life. 

He had no use for a lover, but he supposed that if he had to befriend a single person in the world, it may as well be you.

If you liked this work, please reblog and leave a comment or an ask!

Oh shit lmao kokomi sorry I totally forgot to say

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ LITTLE PEARL. platonic kokomi & reader !

synopsis. a child appears on watatsumi island, lost and scared. what is kokomi to do, other than take care of them? contents. PLATONIC. referenced shipwreck & parental death. gn!reader. they/them pronouns used. hurt/comfort. 1.5k words. notes. hehe i thought so!! i didn't want to start writing until i was certain though :D hope you enjoy!!

Kokomi’s quiet evening—a rare luxury these days, one that she never saw enough of to get used to—came to an abrupt halt with a knock at her door.

She looked up wearily, already wishing she had retreated to her secluded cave instead of her room. The seats she had dragged in there might not be as comfortable as her plush armchair, but it carried one sacred trait that she craved most: privacy.

But alas, in times of unrest, Watatsumi Island couldn’t afford to be missing its leader. There were too many reports of discontent in the outer villages, that spoke of rising tensions and concerning food shortages. She had to be available within the Shrine at all times, lest she miss an important message and leave her people to fend for themselves. No amount of convincing from General Gorou would sway her to take some time away; as much as the idea of withdrawing from her duties for a night enticed her, she knew she was far too important. She would have to make do recovering energy in her room.

The knock sounded again, this time more urgent. It was accompanied by a muffled call of her name, stifling any chance she had of ignoring it and continuing to read.

“-1 energy,” Kokomi murmured to herself, setting her book down. She rose from her seat, crossing her room in two quick steps. When the door swung open, she was met with a soldier.

“Your Excellency!” The soldier exclaimed, bowing as she appeared. “Soldiers from the southern village have returned, with a criminal in tow. They were attempting to steal from the camp supplies, but they were caught, and brought back here.”

“The southern encampment has its own officers in charge of deal with wrongdoers.” Kokomi frowned in confusion. “Why have they been taken here instead of being sorted out there?”

“Well… there were two issues.” The soldier said sheepishly. “For one, they’re not a resident of Watatsumi. We aren’t sure where they came from, but no one recognized them.”

Kokomi hummed. While it wasn’t unheard of for travellers to find themselves on Watatsumi, especially after Inazuma’s borders were officially reopened, those who did were carefully documented by Sangonomiya officials. It was particularly odd for a stranger to have slipped past their notice and gotten far enough to steal from their supplies. “What was the second issue?”

“That…” He swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. “That’s one that I think you will want to see for yourself.”

Kokomi raised an eyebrow, flitting through the possibilities in her mind. A mystery thief, unknown to the inhabitants of Watatsumi. From the soldier’s story, nothing stuck out as particularly notable. What could have the guards so vexed that they needed the Divine Priestess herself to solve the issue?

“Very well.” Kokomi said with a nod. “But please, explain to me everything that happened on the way.”

“Of course, Your Excellency.” The soldier bowed again, turning on his heel and leading the way. “Iwata was the one to discover them. He was trying to retrieve some seeds from the supply stores, when he found them rifling through the boxes.”

“What did they take?” Kokomi asked, as they turned the corner.

“Uh… food, I think. Some grain, a bit of the vegetables.” Curious. They must have been desperate, if they were resorting to stealing rations. “Anyway, he alerted the nearest samurai, who apprehended them. He suggested imprisoning them, but one of the elders talked him out of it. For starters, no one knows who they are so we didn’t know what kind of threat they might pose. Others opposed the idea because… well…”

The soldier pushed open the door, revealing the front of the shrine. Moonlight bathed the area in a dim glow, glinting across the shelled walls. In front of the palace stood a group of half-a-dozen soldiers, escorting one person towards the shrine. It was then that Kokomi saw their wide-eyed for the first time, and she realized what was so wrong with the scene.

“The criminal is—”

“A child.” Kokomi finished with a gasp. The thief couldn’t have been more than a young teen at the oldest, with watery eyes and tear streaks shining across their cheeks.

They looked—to put it bluntly—a mess. Their hair hung limply, tangled with sand and salt, their clothes were rumpled and covered in tears. They looked like something that had been dragged up from the bottom of the sea in a net, still dripping with water and covered in sand.

As the guard on their left pulled them forward, they let out a cry. Kokomi's eyes narrowed at his roughness, tugging on them carelessly like a ragdoll.

“Stand down, please.” Kokomi said calmly, waving away the guard. His grip on their arm only seemed to tighten, as vehement protests left his lips.

“Your Excellency! They were caught red-handed stealing from army supplies! I urge you not to treat this matter lightly just because—”

“Stand down, please.” Kokomi repeated, her voice turning steely. “Do not misunderstand me, soldier. That was an order, not a request.”

The guard turned red, but let go of the child’s arm. He bowed stiffly and stood back with the rest of his group, murmuring under his breath as he did. She elected to ignore him, as bold as the disrespect was, turning her gaze to the group.

“The rest of you, please return to your posts. I thank you for bringing this matter to my attention. You are all dismissed.” Kokomi said. All of the soldiers bowed to her—some more willingly than others—and slowly retreated from the shrine.

When they were out of eyesight, she turned back to the child, crouching until they were eye-to-eye. They shrunk away from her, stumbling on the steps in their haste to put distance between them. Something in her chest twinged at seeing just how skittish the child was, but she didn't let her expression waver.

“Hello there, little one.” Kokomi smiled warmly, her voice light. “I’m sorry for how roughly he treated you. My name is Kokomi, may I know your name too?”

“[Name],” they mumbled, still not meeting her eye. Their restless hands fiddled with the edge of their clothing, unraveling the already frayed stitches.

“[Name]… it suits you well. You must have lovely parents to give you such a nice name.” Kokomi paused. “Where are your parents, sweetheart?”

A shrug. Their eyes darted between her, and the guards still stationed at the side of the shrine.

“You don't know?”

Another shrug.

“Love, I'm here to help you.” She said softly, taking a cautious step towards them. When they didn't immediately retreat, she took another. “If you've gotten lost, and can't find your parents I'll do everything I can to reunite you with them.”

Their face scrunched up, and they murmured something quick that she barely managed to catch. “...They were with me on the boat.”

“What was that?”

“We... we were on the boat together.” They said quietly, clenching their tiny hands into fists. “They were with me when... when it started filling with water. They made sure I got onto the little boats, before... before...”

The pieces clicked in Kokomi's head, as the child burst into tears.

“I-I-I want them back!” They wailed, their words broken up by sobs.

“Oh my...” Kokomi said softly. “Oh my. Come, come here.”

She held open her arms in an invitation, waiting for them to move towards her. For a few moments they didn't move, only staring at her in between sniffles. She offered a small, comforting smile, and their hesitance broke, practically tackling her into a hug. She murmured comforts into their hair, as she held them close and tight to her chest. They continued to weep, all of their fear and stress spilling out in a messy wave of tears and snot.

“I'm so sorry, little one. I know this must be very hard for you, and you're being very brave.” She soothed, rubbing their back.

“Will you find them for me?” They asked, the question mumbled into the front of her clothes. Kokomi hesitated.

False hope would be cruel, but candor would be crueler. It wasn't the first time a ship had sunk in the Inazuma seas, but very few occasions returned with news of survivors. It was a miracle that they had lasted long enough to wash up on Watatsumi, but the chances of their parents doing the same were slim, especially if they hadn't already been discovered.

“I will do everything within my power to search for them.” Kokomi said carefully, making sure to add, “However, if we can't find them, I will be happy take care of you myself.”

They pulled away, and their eyes brightened through the glaze of tears. For the first time, hope seemed to bloom. “Promise?”

“I promise. Come with me, little pearl.” Kokomi said gently. “I’ll make sure you are well taken care of, alright?”

She held out her hand, and they tentatively grasped in in her own.

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai.

LOCKED AND LOADED [Yandere!Wanderer x Reader]

Prompt: The world is about to end. How will you grieve when you're forced to be with a miserable man until the last second? [Dedicated To: @mixed-kester for the Alone Together Event]

Content Tags: yandere!scaramouche "fluff" oneshot (yes, there are no other parts:]), major persona 3 spoilers but you DON’T need to know the game before reading this since everything is explained, improper use of a S.E.E.S evoker /j, Scaramouche is so normal about you, UNRELIABLE NARRATOR, major character death/s–

V. Acceptance.

"Where the hell are you, (Y/n)?"

Standing near what should have been the front doors of his university was a short man with dark purple hair. He leaned precariously against them, his head tilted upward as if the sickly green moon's ominous pull was nothing to be afraid of. Gekkoukan University's nearby dorms– fraternity and sorority houses included– are not usually this silent. Instead of people, coffins were aligned perpendicular to the ground.

The wanderer glanced at his watch with mild interest. He had been waiting for a while now. Your guest hoisted himself up, circling the ground with the tip of his shoe. The baseline of his attitude had always defaulted to irritability and passive-aggressiveness. The vertically aligned hour-and-minute hands do not placate it. The timing itself makes it worse.

It's December 31st, 2009, 12 AM– the Dark Hour.

With a harsh sneer, he pocketed his hands. You usually have the door to the Velvet Room open to him whenever. What's the big deal? Were you seriously THAT mad at him? Really? He didn't do anything to warrant this "pettiness". He had never known silence as much as this moment.

You should've accounted for the hostility that proceeds on the "off-chance" he did arrive early.

His tone darkened, his bloodied hands gripping his S.E.E.S evoker tightly.

"If you don’t show up, I will cleanse the world of human emotion all by myself"

You shook from afar, afraid of how he wouldn't hesitate to make his threat a reality. He had already taken so much– you were beyond mad at him. You were terrified. Wronged. Abused. You didn't want to step into the light. Much worse, step into his shadow.

The worst thing evil can do is to turn you into one of them.

He clutched the bloodied yellow scarf in his hands tightly.

Why did this happen?

How did things END up like this?

IV. Depression.

You took a deep breath and charged forward.

You don't trust [Wanderer] ever since Ryoji told him about the impending apocalypse.

Seldom do you leave the Velvet Room. You weren't hiding in the Velvet room months before the end of the world was imminent. When April had only reached its fourth day, there was nothing you wanted more than to spend time outside. So ignominiously innocent. You did not know who [Wanderer] was and how much effect he would have on your life at the time. You were just tired of the ongoing stream of uneventfulness.

And now here you are, berating the protagonist in full.

"[Wanderer], why is Ryoji missing?! US ATTENDANTS CAN'T FIND TRACK HIM ANYWHERE!!!"

With a fistful of his university uniform, you yanked him by the collar. Your eyes were livid as you reeled your composure. This wasn't what you had in mind when you were "isekai"d into a video game. Out of any game, why did it have to be Persona 3? And out of anyone that could be a protagonist, why did it have to be HIM?!

You thought this would be a grand affair... Whatever they spun in anime back when your reality existed were pure lies. Where are the scenic views? The mountains? The grasslands? This plane of existence you're forced to sit through for eternity was far from the RPG fantasy people would hope for. No closer you could ever be to paradise.

In fact, this man is threatening to ruin said paradise.

[Wanderer] pulled your hands away forcefully. His glare was not that different from yours. "Why do you care about him so much?"

"Oh, I don't know! Maybe it's because his death means forgetting everything?!" You clenched your empty fists. "You know damn well what happens if he dies! You'll lose all the help you can get to stopping the Fall!"

Such a heavy weight on your shoulders but the protagonist doesn't care. This may be a turn-based game– but it wasn't based on you. If it was, you wouldn't be screaming your heart out at him! You wouldn't be an NPC. Hell, you'd probably be a better protagonist than him.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and sighed every stress out of your system.

"Listen—" You rubbed your temple. "You need to start forming bonds. Social links. Support system. Confidants. Whatever you want to call it. You were supposed to have the answer by now as to what life is for."

[Wanderer] remained silent throughout your spiels. His facial expression alone was enough to infer immense disinterest. You were mindlessly doing your job. There will be no tirade or physical aggression that can convince him that you believe in your assertions with full conviction.

"Do you want to see him?"

"Yes! Of course. Knowing you, you're—"

"Tempted to kill him because you think I want the world to end?"

"Obviously."

That's where you're wrong.

A nihilistic man can have other reasons to commit murder.

"But if he's missing, you can forget about him, right?"

"What on earth are you talking about?!"

[Wanderer] turned around. "Meet me later, you know the time."

"I'll show you where Ryoji is."

III. Bargaining.

XX/09/2009

He doesn't recall the time he was brought into this world like you had.

Puppets are malleable. Memories are easy to overwrite when your body is held together by white wood and "khemia". His past evades him.

Maybe it's better this way.

He took you to Chagall Café. Although it was your first time out in a long while, he had no qualms about ignoring your questions. He feigned deafness as you asked about the news, his college life, friends, or anything related to what was happening in 2009. And he even ignored your humble request to buy the cheapest coffee for you. Instead, he bought you a chocolate frappe.

"For Elizabeth's cutest little sibling." He said, sarcastically copying Elizabeth's tone as he sharply handed the drink. "Wouldn't want everyone's darling to get a caffeine addiction."

Thanks, asshat.

Of all his offensive behavior— he really spent more money just to insult you. You shook your head and accepted it. It's the most expensive one on the menu too. What dedication to being a hater. But before you could open your wallet, he shot your payment down.

"Just take it." He smirked. "Look at you, paying me back for treating you poorly. Are you a masochist?"

You immediately shoved your money back in. "You still bought me a free drink, so really, who's the loser here? Prick."

[Wanderer] laughed heartily before he pulled out his battered codal, which had underlined texts for provisions he deemed important. There was a momentary softness in his gaze that disappeared in an instant.

But that's the only conversation he planned on having that evening. He did mention he'll drag you out in his study session so you weren't too shocked by it. Instead, you sat and awkwardly people-watched. The world you came from and this one were identical. You got through your old 2009 just fine— it's just that Tatsumi Port Island was not a real location from your original Japan.

Your memories about the video game Persona aren't very clear since you reincarnated in the game, but the red band [Wanderer] wore on his sleeve affirmed that he is the leader of S.E.E.S. It's nice to know that someone like him has the potential to become a leader.

[Wanderer] appeared wholly immersed in his studies.

…

Maybe he wouldn't notice if you looked around—

…?!

He immediately grabbed your hand. You yelped slightly as you noticed the iron grip he had.

"Where are you going?"

Don't leave him.

He squeezed just a bit more tightly.

"W-What the— I'm just going to the bathroom." You felt a shiver down your spine as you shared his gaze. There's a dull coldness to it you couldn't quite place, as if he had been a witness to injustice, sevenfold.

You quietly sat back down. He still hasn't let go of your hand.

"Good riddance." He muttered.

"If it isn't [Wanderer]!"

You turned around, yanking your hand away.

It's Ryoji.

You stood up, gawking.

"W-Woah, are you okay?" Ryoji asked, hurriedly approaching you. While you were frozen in place, [Wanderer] looked at his empty hand, feeling your warmth escape his fingertips.

G-Good… he's still alive.

You thought [Wanderer] killed him.

[Wanderer] is the wildcard, and that's a terrifying factor to consider. He hasn't shown any interest in humanity. Knowing his past has not increased any hope on your end. Everyone else in his eyes are insignificant insects.

He has the power to end Ryoji.

He has the power to end this world.

Locked and loaded.

Ryoji's eyes softened. "Wait, I think I know a beautiful face like yours from somewhere… You must be [Wanderer]'s attendant, (Y/n), right?"

You blinked.

"Wait, how did you…"

He chuckled, taking and placing a soft kiss on your gloved hands.

"I have my ways." Ryoji winked.

"Don't touch them." [Wanderer] sneered.

Ryoji stood up straight, unfazed by his threatening tone. You took a moment to examine his appearance. He had a lot of white clothing and a big yellow scarf around his neck. Just below his left eye is a mole. On the surface, he appeared quite human, but everyone seated at this table was aware of his true nature.

He is the 13th arcana. The appraiser.

You and [Wanderer] have every right to be wary.

"I'm Ryoji Mochizuki. It's nice to be officially introduced to you, Mx. (Y/n)."

"Ryoji Mochizuki…" You tasted the syllables.

"Oh? Who knew hearing my name from your lips makes it sound so wonderful."

"C-Cut it out, you don't mean that." You said, a little flustered.

[Wanderer]'s gaze fixated on you, stewing in his concoction of envy and misery. His fists were clenched beneath the table, knuckles turning white. With narrowed eyes, he watched as you continued engaging in conversation with Ryoji. His laughter was grating his ears. He couldn't bear the sight of you engaging with another man, especially someone as flirtatious as him.

Ryoji, sensing [Wanderer]'s distress, shot him a casual glance. To top the look, he paired it with a knowing smirk. He made mental notes of the man's clenched jaw and tensed shoulders.

"You seem a little on edge, [Wanderer]. Finals coming up?" He feigned innocence.

"It's December, and I'm not on edge." He scoffed, trying not to make his gritted teeth evident. "Don't you own a calendar? Finals are in March. To think a pea-brain like you managed to transfer to Gekkan…"

"Right, right." Ryoji smiled, closing his eyes. "Then it must be my proposal you're thinking of."

You stiffened; [Wanderer] did not.

"Ryoji—"

"I know, Mx. (Y/n)." He started. "I know you're not too keen on the idea of killing me. My existence is the affirmation of the Fall. None of you— sorry, I forgot (Y/n) is from the Velvet room— I meant none of them will live till Spring… Or perhaps it's more accurate to say they'll forfeit the will to live."

…

"… I-I'm sorry." Ryoji buried his face in his yellow scarf. There's a certain tremble in his voice that truly emphasizes his sorrow. "Just as all living things die, the flow of time cannot be hindered. But there's comfort in killing me. If you do… you won't have to suffer for the coming days."

If [Wanderer] kills Ryoji, Tartarus, the Dark Hour— the burden of everyone's memories will all disappear.

But [Wanderer] can retain his.

He's not originally from this world after all…

However, should he let him live, the rest of S.E.E.S's life will continue until everyone's inevitable demise.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

[Wanderer] rolled his eyes, diverting his eyes back to his notes. "Everyone will die soon, who cares? I've heard your spiel several times already. You need to get more entertaining material."

"[Wanderer]!" You scolded him.

Your eyes widened in disbelief at [Wanderer]'s unwittingly casual jabs at the apocalypse. You wanted to ask him if he was even listening, but the truth will disappoint you. A cold sweat formed on your brow.

Ryoji's smile crooked into a hopeless one.

"You depend on (Y/n) too much."

[Wanderer] froze. "What did you say…?"

"You have a group of people around you, eager to establish a bond— eager to be friends with you. You have met Junpei, Yukari, Mitsuru, Akihiko, Fuuka, and many others– but you don't consider any of them as your friends." Ryoji shook his head. "Instead, you spend your time with just (Y/n). Never anyone else. Just them. To the point that I think it's unhealthy."

"I don't care for humans." He replied immediately.

"You're human too, [Wanderer]." Ryoji shot back. "You're made of blood, bones, and flesh."

[Wanderer] fell silent. What Ryoji said was true, and yet…

"Am I?" He laughed.

The sound was hollow and mechanical. Deprived of genuine mirth. It did not sound forced, yet his eyes were dull.

…

Perhaps he lived as a puppet for so long that the idea of being human has yet to reach him.

Ryoji shifted, uncomfortably glancing between you two. The tension was palpable despite the cafe's peaceful ambiance. Ryoji cleared his throat softly.

"I should leave…" He trailed off, voice slightly wavering. His eyes darted around, scrambling for words to say. "But, um, before I leave, I just want to say again that you need to give it some more thought, [Wanderer]... It's a big deal… Just…"

Ryoji sighed. "Remember to make your choice to spare or kill me by December 31st. I'm glad you're having fun but don't get too distracted with (Y/n). I'll be waiting."

That being said, his footsteps reverberated loudly in the otherwise still room as he turned and headed for the door. He dared to turn back as he grabbed for the doorknob and saw you two sharing a look that he couldn't determine if it was one of contemplation or displeasure. He hurried out and the cafe door shut behind him.

"Happy?" [Wanderer] bitterly asked.

You paused for a moment… then grinned.

"Tsk, what are you laughing at, worm?"

"Nothing, nothing!" You shrugged. "I just thought that for a guy with a stick up his ass, you're cute when you're jealous."

That riled [Wanderer] up in an instant.

You do not know the full extent of his envy's filth.

"I am NOT—" He stopped, realizing how counterproductive it would be. "Whatever. I don't care."

"Uhuh?"

"Shut up and finish your damn chocolate!"

II. Anger.

Before you know it, it's April.

"Seriously, you three, I'm bored as fuck! Can't I just take a stroll outside?" You yelled, waving the heavy persona compendium in the air as your sisters ignored you.

It hasn't been long since you reincarnated, so your right to go outside isn't as liberal. Given the impending threat of an apocalypse, the Velvet Room attendants are especially overprotective.

"(Y/n), dear sibling, watch your mouth! You mustn't let Igor or Nameless hear you speak so vulgarly."

Taking a good look at your new "siblings", you've noticed how almost everyone was present. Margaret sat elegantly on the sofa while Theodore & Elizabeth were doing their best to calm you down. It's almost rare to have all three in one place. The three oldest were busy-bodies who had more eccentric matters they devoted their attention to. Including rapping and dancing, though neither performances are good for your senses.

"If boredom plagues you, then you should try teasing Theodore." Elizabeth yawned. "He's easy pickings."

"Sister!" Theodore pouted. "Shouldn't (Y/n) focus on studying how fusing works? It would be a better use of their time…"

"The day (Y/n)'s new wildcard learns the value of social links might just be the day miserly politicians become generous." Elizabeth shrugged.

You paled, tugging her sleeve. "Oh fuck… Am I screwed?"

She gave you a lopsided smile. "I may be your new sibling but that does not mean I am obliged to resolve your problems, (Y/n). Learn to solve this on your own."

Theodore coughed.

"Please, stop scaring them, sister Elizabeth. It's not their fault this new guest is a cruel arbiter. I fear there will not be a second of groundless joy in store for them…"

"You're not helping me relax either! Motherfucker. Can't you two speak normally?"

"Settle down, all of you."

The four of you stood straight as Igor tilted his chin up. Though you've gotten used to his bloodshot gaze, it had a way of prickling your skin this time around. With his signature smile, he closed his eyes and snapped his fingers.

"Our guest is about to enter."

"W-Wait, RIGHT NOW?!?"

Before you could react, the room transformed into what appeared to be a large elevator. The walls were barred and creaking noises began to subtly make their presence. A floating door materialized, and soon, opened.

Dark purple hair and eyes, short frame, soft face.

"…Hmm?"

You blinked.

"Wait, no way…"

You know him.

Of course, you know him.

"Everyone, meet [Wanderer]."

You decided that you two should reintroduce yourselves and forget that the past ever happened.

For now, you had been gifted with a vital role: being the protagonist's attendant.

According to your Igor, your role is to assist your guest in fusing personas. He had chosen you specifically in advance as you are his "anima/animus figure". Initially, that job was for Elizabeth. However, your beliefs, your intuition, your emotions— they're in perfect tune with [Wanderer]. Igor expects you to facilitate their spiritual and psychological growth and implore them to interact more with others.

Which, based on that alone, sounds like this puppet just hired an unpaid therapist.

"What do you want?"

"Well…"

Since you became [Wanderer]'s attendant, you've started to have thicker skin. He will always make his crankiness known each visit. You're slightly grateful for it, for how else would you know patience otherwise? Though his personality rubs you the wrong way, his strength does have merits you cannot ignore. Even Belladona, the Velvet Room's devout singer, had sung praises for his mettle. There was one line that struck you about her song, something about him being like a puppet with a beating heart unbeknownst to himself…

Which is why you thought you might as well try to see if you could convince him to take you out sometimes.

"What, like a date?" [Wanderer] scoffed then smirked, a light blush on his face. "Are you really that desperate?"

"No, eww—" You rolled your eyes. "I meant it literally. Igor and the others wouldn't let me go outside unless I'm with someone they trust."

He looked away and covered his mouth, his shoulders trembling slightly.

"Like a child?"

"Yeah, yeah, shut the fuck up." You deadpanned, your pride slightly chipped. "Like a child or whatever you want to see it, as long as it gets me out of here. I just want to see the world before it all…"

You paused.

Better not to bring it up. You're not sure if Igor told him yet.

[Wanderer] raised an eyebrow. "What's in it for me?"

You shrugged. "Is money not enough?"

He paused.

…

"You've got to be kidding me— Fine, what else do you want?"

His eyelids lowered, hissing slightly. "Evil expects evil from others, huh? I wasn't trying to think of anything more, but now that I think about it…"

"Oh, great."

"… I can take your request," he pointed at you. "But only if you join me in the library. Anywhere else, especially loud places like clubs, I'll send your ass back."

That's a no-brainer.

"Deal!"

Though you've missed the peculiar sight, [Wanderer] had a small smile on his face as you shook hands. The two of you had become nearly inseparable since then.

Worryingly, he's closer to you than other humans.

The only relationship he needed was with you.

And with what little time this world has left, you hope you could have a last cup of coffee with him…

I. Denial.

Your reality crumbled. What a START.

Your family, friends... all gone. No one was left. You convince yourself you "deserved" this punishment for smoking a life away with dreadful workloads, no matter how untrue it was. When the world burnt down, you were sent into a darkness you had not known before.

The person in charge of your reincarnation process told you that for the next few minutes, you and a selected companion will see your lives flash before your eyes in a void— and it will not necessarily be a comforting sight.

But you woke up relaxed. In an abyss filled with broken mirrors meant to depict your character to pieces, you donned a plain expression. There was not an inch of you that grieved for what was lost. Similarly, you had no care for how you were being transmigrated to another realm. Though you had grown accustomed to this isolation, humanity always struggled with silence. There was ringing on your fingers. When you unclasped your hands, you saw a pointed shard. Curiously, you clenched it. But no matter the tightness of your grip, no blood came out.

Your breath fogged up the glass. You wondered why that Memokeeper told you that you deserve to live on. You thought your life was rather unremarkable.

Makes sense. You thought to yourself. I'd rather pride myself on a boring life with integrity than an ambitious yet fraudulent one.

「Assignments. Commute. Study. Review. Assignments. Commute. Study. Review. Was that all your life was...? Then tell me, little (Y/n), why does the mirror in front of you appear distorted?」

And so, you gazed forward. Your reflection stood tall, larger than your life, and it beckoned you to come closer. This "(Y/n) (L/n)" had the opposite of a Cheshire grin- perhaps a caricature- perhaps an accurate depiction. Wearied of yourself and wearied of the sycophantic students around you. How unhappy are you to see yourself as someone like this? Are these the emotions you wish to be preserved? Is this the memory you want your world to be remembered by?

「These memories must be corrupted. Someone must be tampering with them. I do not think you lived a miserable life.」

I can't answer your questions either. But I think that reflection is who I am, because sometimes...

"I wish I had never been born at all."

Your lips were parted, but no sound came out. You resonated with those words, but they did not come from you. The voice was dark, hopeless, and alone.

When you were being sent off, you thought no one was around to greet you. There was another man. He had short hair and purple eyes- an incredibly rare sight in your world. This man seemed to be gazing at his reflection as well. You needn't know how he saw himself. The emptiness in his eyes did not differ from yours. He, too, was masking isolation as independence with an intense fragility. The dread he inflicted upon you was the closest you've ever gotten to facing your own perceived "weakness".

His memories were a mixbag. Some were filled with domestic bliss, but the anger in his heart triumphed more. He had friends but thought himself betrayed. His heart was constructed through a system of evasions, and he was a specialist in self-deception. This man knew little of emotions but had an abundance of it. It's no wonder he refused to sacrifice the artistry of his vengeance against humanity. You can sympathize with how he could not attach himself to those around him. He was burdened with malicious knowledge. Fakes. Lies. Insincerities. A class of his own.

However, he had a sin you cannot empathize with. A trait you can read that you're certain he had never noticed about himself.

He was a sickeningly beautiful man with a peculiar innocence.

He looked like a man who truly did not live in the real world.

This man did not feel real to you. He felt made-up. Fictional. His aura of flawlessness appalled you. Though you shared the same sentiments, you thought him dimensionless.

Yet this is supposedly your first meeting.

「Is it? Where have you seen him before? Can't you remember, dear (Y/n)?」

No. No, I can't.

「... What a shame. Worry no more, little (Y/n). Close your eyes. When you wake up, you will meet your new reality— new realm— new family.」

You nodded and agreed to a higher existence you did not believe in. Unlike others, you were a little bit more incapable of trusting a living soul. But there's no other choice.

Life is ordinarily far from anyone's control in the first place. Why bother fighting? If following can make her fuck off, it doesn't matter.

Nothing matters.

Wait…

Is that…

Scaramouche?

Before you closed your eyes and accepted your fate, you could've sworn...

He looked at you with a crooked grin.

「Thou art I... And I am thou...

Thou hast established a new bond...

Thou shalt be blessed when creating

Personas of the Universe Arcana..."」

"Hmm. Strange… Is that truly the order of the story?"

A woman stared at you.

Not (Y/n) (L/n).

YOU.

BEHIND.

THE.

SCREEN.

She smiled wryly.

Hate might empower you for a short while, but it comes at the cost of consuming you whole. Should a shard or any surface reflect [Wanderer]'s face, he would understand what he had become. However, it's too late. He had made his choice and stomped away any remorse he could have. When all is said and done, he alone will spread the ashes. He alone will stand. A blank slate.

[Wanderer] spent his life looking for scapegoats and ended up removing his responsibility.

Betrayals?

What a sad, sad puppet.

What a poor excuse to justify an entire apocalypse.

A poor excuse of a man.

"THE ARCANA IS THE MEANS BY WHICH ALL IS REVEALED." She muttered softly. "And you have been reading your story in REVERSE. Perhaps this is the only way this world can attain SALVATION. The chronological order is not a slice of life. You did not have a disagreement and decided to start your relationship over again. Life is far more WICKED."

"Read it again, but from DENIAL to ACCEPTANCE. The proper way to GRIEVE DEATH."

With great reluctance, she took the five cards laid on the table and placed them in an upright position.

"Let's see if you'd rather ACCEPT the truth or live in DENIAL."

Mixed-Kester can now message Wanderer [prior to 12/31/2009]

I like writing Yandere Scaramouche as someone with a lot of rules because I like to think about how he enforced said rules.

Getting you to call him "my lord" instead of any other name you'd referred to him by was his first course of action. Scaramouche was already a man wound tight like a string about to snap, he believed that he only had to tell you once to get something done. Anything after that would result in a punishment of some form.

But Scaramouche has a soft spot in his heart for you. He does want you around after all. So when he comes to you that first day, when your big eyes are looking around your bedroom scared and shaking, but somehow still managing to shoot a glare at him, he smirks. You're like a little dog, you could bite any second, but you'd look so cute while doing it. Therefore, he decides to train you like a dog.

"Outside of this bedroom, you will only refer to me as 'my lord.' Understood?" this was your one and only time being told, and despite the fact that you scoffed and begged to go home instead of listening to what he said, he knew you'd think on his words eventually.

The next day you were free to roam his manor. You were mostly looking for your escape, testing doors and windows to see if maybe there was a way out, but your arrival was planned for many months before, even if he had less time to prepare the house for you, there wouldn't be an escape.

With his arms crossed, he watched as you tried to open the door to the back garden, locked of course. Even if you did manage to get out, eight armed guards were placed all through out the area, with orders of capture not kill in regards to you. You'd be dragged back before you even had a taste of freedom. But he didn't tell you that.

"You didn't eat today," he stated plainly. Your first meal in his home and you didn't even take a single bite of it. Even he, who did not need food to survive, didn't enjoy watching such a lavish dish go to the trash.

"You must think I'm stupid, Scaramouche-" your little huff of rude words was stopped in its track by his fingers hitting your lips. Your attitude was another issue he'd need to work on, but he wanted to fix one problem at a time.

It didn't hurt, the way the back of his hand met your mouth. Didn't even sting a little. It just felt demeaning. Like you were an animal being scolded and not a person. He did this every time you opened your mouth to call him anything, but his preferred title, and when you spewed profanities at him, he tap your lips a bit harder.

With a huff, you finally decided to call him, "My lord" after many disrespectful taps against your lips spanning over many days. Annoyance finally made you to decide to allow him to win this one, much to your dismay and his pleasure. Your reward for doing as you were told was a gift of sweets and confections, a treat you weren't given because of his vocal distate for such things.

You are them with your arms crossed and your eyebrows knitted, glaring at him as he watched you eat. That little attitude of yours was going to be the next to go.

How do the different yanderes "love" you? (plus some tropes(??) i feel like would fit them)

this was honeslty just practice, and it ended up turning into smt kinda decent, i dont love what ive written but i just needed to get our smt

i blame @fatuismooches for being lovely and having such good harbinger thoughts that they've taken over my mind (fuck you[said with affection])

Yandere! Childe, Scaramouche, Dottore(separate) x gn reader

Childe ("soft and sweet" x unloving and hates touch)

He just spoils you left and right, he feels a little bad when he sees the uncomfortable look in your eyes when he kisses you all over, or when he touches you too much. so he has chosen to spoil you rotten until you finally fall for him, or at least see the way he can take care of you and finally kiss him back.

[He loves you, and that should be known by now, so why do you force his hands to do this, "why cant you just love him like he is", those were the last words you heard before he brought something to your lips and made you drink something unknown]

You are incredibly lucky that the 11th Harbinger is this patient with you, but dont push it too much, he can go to more bloody measures of getting you to fall for him if he sees it's needed. dont worry he wont hurt you too much, he loves you too much to do that, but love is complicated and you cant always control whom you fall in love with, so just love him will you, darling?

after all he knows the aphrodisiac he gave you wont last forever, so it would be better to just fall for him manually, right?

Scaramouche (manipulative, powerful x easily manipulated, weak[...i didnt know what to do here lol])

He might seem like he doesn't love at all, but when you aren't being dragged around to missions and meetings, and all alone with him in your shared chambers, he loves to just hug you, maybe litter kisses on your neck and collarbone. you hated it at first, and you still kind of do, but you've long since gotten used to it all.

He show his love for you when he has his hands all over your body as you dress into the clothes he picked out for you. he cant keep himself off of your lovely body, but would kill if anyone even touch a strand of your hair.

But oh how could you try 'nd leave when this weak little puppet is crying in your arms every night, when he has nightmares about you leaving him, dying when he can't be there to protect you... oh how foolish you are, how stupid you must be to fall for such things, as he has long since abandoned the idea of ever letting go of you.

And he'll make sure you dont let go of him either, because you need him. after all he was the one to save you from danger when you were stupid enough to walk too far into a hilichurl camp. you need protection, and he's rgith here willing to give it for "free".

Dottore (crazy scientist and his crazy lover[aka yandere x yandere but worse])

You lvoe each other in ways normal human minds wouldn't dream of ever understanding. he smiled when you gave him a dead body for experimenting, and the worst part? you had the biggest grin on your face, and a massive amount of blood on your hands and clothes, much to the dismay of many onlookers.

And then there's the fact that neither of you even spare a glance at the amount of blood on the others' clothes, or at least it looks like you don't. but when you are in the privacy of your shared bedroom (though filled with dead onlookers in the closet) you reward each other for getting rid of anyone who dares to interrupt, or archons forbid break, the love you two have.

It has been made a daily occurrence for you both to randomly disappear from the building with a fatui agent, who had taken too much attention from the other, and then come back alone with bloodied hands, and being greeted by a two-minute-long kiss when opening the lap doors again.

just two crazy maniacs in love, awwww (if they arent wanted in at least 6 nations they need to be)

thx for reading whatever this is, luv ya -Masterlist

You are welcome to reblog and like any of my posts, but you CAN NOT translate, copy or hate on anybody for liking my posts

Ascent to Oblivion part 2 - echoes of regret

He wanted you to awaken, yet he’s not sure why. Maybe he wanted answers. A reasonable explanation for your absurd actions.

Notes: Ahhhhh, I'm finally free again! I'm so sorry for not posting for a while, I was busy. Anyways, thank you so much for being patient with me. Part 2 is finally outttt. Also, tried a new writing style? I decided to go for less editing on this one, I want to see if it's better in terms of writing emotions. Thank you for 100 followers btw. You guys are the best <33

Warning: reader is not traveler btw, scara's pov after the battle, slight angst?

Peace was a luxury that Scaramouche could never afford.

How could he, when the treachery was etched in the steps of his past ?

Yet the solitude that submerged the city of Sumeru leaves a bitter taste resting on his tongue. He settled beside a statue of the Greater Lord Rukkhadevata, overlooking the city she once presided over. The region he was supposed to subjugate and bend to his will. 

For once, he’ll be the one exercising control, toying with the strings of his very own marionette play. He’ll devote himself to the role of the puppeteer, finding delight in engineering the people to act according to his words and his words alone. To constrain them to kneel and beg for mercy, manipulating their resolve for his own amusement. 

But alas, it was not meant to be. For he had been defeated by a pesky Traveler and their idiotic companions. 

Scaramouche’s face soured. 

What a disgrace.

His sharp eyes remained its scornful glare at the city. He can not stand staring at the tranquility he yearned to have. The gentle winds that rushed his way seemed to mock him further . It left a lingering caress on his cheek, offering a taste of what he’d been missing for 500 years. He scowls, the hatred evident in his features. A flurry of fallen leaves soon crashed in his direction, dancing away as it avoided him to catch up with the gust of air. One such leaf had landed on your face though, as you lay asleep beside him. He had almost forgotten he brought you here on a whim, despite the Lesser Lord Kusanali’s warnings. 

Their conversation was still fresh in his mind. Having visited you a few times everyday, the Dendro Archon’s attention was caught. She harbored a small smile on her tiny face, her voice warm as usual.

“You don’t have to come here everyday you know?”

He recalls sighing in reply, “I know.”

“But I have to”

Have to, huh?

His answer never really made sense, even to him. He doesn't know why he possessed such a strong obligation to see you. Maybe it had something to do with the turmoil of emotions he was experiencing, raging in his non-existent heart and influencing his thoughts. He wanted you to awaken, yet he’s not sure why.

Maybe he wanted answers. A reasonable explanation for your absurd actions.

Scara still remembers that day. Every single detail. He can’t forget how your body pressed against his, the metallic red a cool contrast to his overheating skin. The way your arms encompassed around him, squeezing him tightly like you were terrified he’d vanish without a trace. He recounts the smash of the debris falling on you, a consequence you suffered for attempting to shield him from danger. 

A stupid move, really. 

He was a puppet, a mere rubble like that was not a threat to his utility. Yet you , with all your mortal characteristics, decided to play hero and shelter him from it. Now look where that got you.

Asleep . 

For two whole weeks. 

Why even bother doing something like that? He wasn’t someone you’d want to save. He had hurt you prior to his fall, yet with no hesitation, you jumped to catch him. 

…You dumbass.

What’s so special about him anyways?

He was nothing more than a discarded puppet, a vessel that was tossed away. A broken doll who's shattered pieces had crumbled to dust, leaving behind a shell of who he once was. 

What part of him was worthy of your adoration? To the point where you disregard your safety just to come to his rescue?

He was insignificant.  A failure . A worthless scrap of metal.

The despairing sobs he vocalized that day served as a reminder that his existence was a mistake. He plummeted to a time in the past when a shed tear sealed his fate to be discarded. He expected you to do the same. 

Yet you didn't .

You didn't abdicate him. You didn't push him away. You simply emboldened your hold and refused to let go. Your touch brought such fervor ardor he had never felt before, a fleeting emotion that loiters within his senses despite the passage of time. Your touch provided him the solace he'd been searching for. But did he even deserve that comfort? 

He eyes your complexion, and his chest burns. What a cruel play by fate, charming the wires of affection out of his grasp and awarding it to you like a trophy.

If only you didn't catch him, then he wouldn't be this troubled.

If only you let him fall.

If only you never cared.

The burn starts to grow, the searing sting tormenting the foundation of his being. His stomach lurches, oh how badly he wants to throw up. Maybe he'll end up vomiting all these useless feelings too.

He wills to change the past, for a preferable outcome in the future. If he never existed, this dilemma would cease to exist. He wouldn’t have to suffer, and you would go on your merry way. Like a parallel line, your paths would never be bound to meet. Maybe then, you wouldn’t be asleep in the first place. Maybe you’d be out there somewhere, roaming Teyvat with the Traveler without the hindrance of his presence.

His existence bordered between pain and fury anyway, and he knew more than anyone how it was certainly a life not worth prevailing. 

With a sigh, Scara narrowed those eyes of his in your direction. How dare you look so peaceful when he's over here, drenched in a scorching passion of self-hatred? The audacity to just remain there, with your pretty eyes closed, and not bother doing anything about it. He huffs, ready to hurl more insults at you. Maybe you’ll wake up from it, returning his jabs as you shoot him a dirty look. And yet… 

“Sorry…”

Something entirely different tumbled out of his mouth. He blinks, barely registering the phrases ripped from his throat. Did he just-

“...I’m sorry”

Why was he apologizing? What was there to apologize for? He wanted to slander you for your interference in his life, not to beg for forgiveness.

A drop of water descends onto your cheek. Huh?

Was it starting to rain?

“...You idiot”

He stops. Has he always sounded like that? Strained… and distressed? 

And why was his vision blurring?

“Please…”

The pang of discomfort bites him without a warning, and it hurts. It hurts so bad. His trembling hands reach out to you. He wants to nuzzle against your arms again, to have you drown out his sorrows in an act of intimacy he’s been longing for.

“Please wake up already”

Taglist: @featuredtofu, @slaylatus, @feikyuu, @yourfavoritefreakyhan, @materialgrowll,

@lxkeeeee, @l4r1n3, @cicil-nema, @alaynac101-blog, @beomtorii2,

@strawbeewie,

@gravy-kfc, @kaeeelie, @pocketdroll, @ladyvelvette, @mmeatt,

@itzshizuyaxd, @swivi

Taglist for (possible) part 3??

Sinking Into Your Arms

Masterlist

Cw!: yandere!Scaramouche, possessive behavior, (brief) drowning/suffocation, abduction, (somewhat) suggestive. Tags: merman scaramouche, modern fantasy au, established relationship, gn!reader, open ending. Summary: Scaramouche has finally gotten tired of waiting in one place for you to come back to him.

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You sighed heavily as you walked along the coast, breathing in the salty breeze. Your parents called you back during your vacation, just to rush you to get married. You weren't even that old! They had been nagging you day by day, even on your regular phone calls. Your parents wouldn't understand that you had been dating someone already, even if he can't quite go to meet them.

Scaramouche swam up to the surface the moment he felt your presence. You were gone for way too long! His eyes lit up at the sight of you wearing the necklace he gave you but acted as if he did not care one bit. "Finally care to come back, pipsqueak?," he huffed while taking out a small bracelet designed to your taste. "It doesn't matter. How long are you going to stay this time?"

You looked at him guiltily. You felt horrible for choosing an inland city, making it even more difficult to meet up. "A week at most…?," you scratch your cheek awkwardly while looking away. A dark expression flashes on his face but disappears just as quickly as it appears.

Everyday for the next week, you go to the seashore, at Scaramouche's request, each time bringing a small snack or gift as an apology for leaving him again so quickly. Your parents don't let up on trying to get you to go on blind dates, however. And with their intensifying efforts, your exhaustion also increases, leading to you pouring out all of your complaints on the final day.

Scaramouche smiles almost innocently, his violet eyes glinting under the sunlight. "I have a solution for you." His hands move to pull you down into a deep kiss, each movement slowly claiming the air in lungs as his. His sharp nails dance on the nape of your neck, pulling you deeper into delirium before pulling you into the sea with him. 

The cold water pulls you right out of your trance and you struggle against his hold desperately. Scaramouche lets go just enough for regret to fill your eyes, diving back in to give you some much needed air. This time, there is no resistance even when he stakes his claim on your lips, your tongue and even your existence as a whole. He whispers into your ear, his voice killing you into a deep slumber…

"News flash: a resident has been reported missing after going to the seaside. It is recommended to keep your family members, especially children, away from the waters as the current has been rather unforgiving…" Your parents cried, aggrieved at your disappearance. There is nothing they wouldn't give to find you again.

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A/N: oh wow this wip was all the way back from april lololol well happy mermay folks!

Arlecchino is really THE Yandere platonic, would love for her to be my father-

But how/when do you think is she becoming Yandere ?

As a "father" Arlecchino loves her children, but her love is something that isn't normal. Her love is hard and stern and fiery, but for some of her children, it's the only love they have. So many of them, regardless of the life Arlecchino lives, find themselves attached to her, indebted to her, trapped with her. Many of them, like Lyney and his siblings do genuinely love her, but at least to me, it's more reverence than it is familial love. They love her because she saved them, and now, they have no other choice but to stay with her, but to them it's a sacrifice worth making because they feel as though they owe so much to her.

Anyway, I think she would become obsessed with someone who reminds her of herself in her youth. Someone who is so detached from the rest of the world, someone who is damaged. In a way, I feel like she'd behave like Silco from Arcane, seeing a child who is traumatized and broken, someone she wants to protect from the rest of the world. She takes you in and from the very beginning her relationship with you is different with the rest of her "children." She doesn't send you on missions or even lets you interact with the House of the Hearth at all. She's very protective in a way that is strange to everyone but her.

I don't know this is just first thoughts.

Sing for me, little Nightingale (Yan! Scaramouche x Reader)

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56024689

Felines are deserving of their accolades. Merit embodies their nimble spines and ductile limbs; bodies like pliable sand, threading their way through knots, twists, cavities and labyrinths. The prince of the hunt flexes and swipes his talons and his prey are swift to falter, their necks wringed and their spines contorted in ways that are unnatural to their physicality.

“I’ve got you now.”

At times, though, even a cat doesn't remain undefeated.

“How stupid are you to think that a cheap disguise would work against me?” He almost sounds amused, his words an arctic hiss against your ear. Reaching up, Scaramouche claws at the thick cloak that veils your face and tears it to your shoulders. Your hair is quick to mime the departed elements, hanging in disarray across your face. A mantilla of unkempt tresses, veiling whatever thoughts sketch your visage.

The Balladeer regards the sight of your person with a sort of contemptuous delight. Forcefully knelt at his feet with your wrists bound behind you and your head drooped in defeat—or in pensiveness. It's a shame Zapolyarny is so devoid of windows. What light finds it's way into these all-too familiar stone chambers is too sparse to see what expression you're making.

“Well? Say something. Or have I rendered you incapable of speech?”

Tentatively—begrudgingly—you tip your head back, back, back until your irises lock with the hypnotic indigo tinctures belonging to the predator who leers dauntingly above you. Locks of such a hue that only you could wear part like the red sea, revealing a thin, perhaps solemn, ambiguous smile—the last expression the harbinger could anticipate. Or desire.

“Thwarted again, hm?” You chuckle and it sounds like frost, “and I even took extensive measures to conceal my tracks. No good?”

“Failures are bound to repeat themselves.” Scaramouche doesn't nuisance himself with that syrupy facade he wears to rope his targets right between his molars. Malice is a noisome stench in the air as he adds, “This is the seventh time I’ve had to retrieve you. I'd figure you’d have learned your lesson by now, but time after time you insist on making yourself a burden to fetch.”

“There's no harm in trying, is there?” You maintain that strange curve on your plush lips. It’s difficult to tell what you're thinking, or feeling.

“‘No harm’, yet you delude yourself into believing that a time would come when you could successfully evade me. I wonder how long it’ll take until those dreams of yours crumble and die.”

“You know, there’s a word for what you are,” you state after a thoughtful pause. “I think it’s called: overbearing.”

What a strange girl with a strange smile. Normally, Scaramouche would meet such defiance by smiting his poor victim to dust within the blink of an eye. In your displays of resolve, though, the invincible harbinger finds himself crouching to your level, trailing a slender hand against your windpipe. How easily he could squeeze the life from your throat until you begs for reprieve; choke you of your indignation. Instead, he allows it to linger there without purpose, applying no pressure, grasping nothing.

“And there’s a word for what you are.” He nearly whispers. Difficult. Stubborn. Irrevocably his. “Irrational, when I only want what’s best for you. And what’s best for you, is to offer me your complete submission.”

“Even though I’d sooner offer my life than yield to you?” A new tone makes itself heard in your cadence. Such words, such simple, few words, reveal what lingers beneath your otherwise indifferent facade.

Sagacious. Provocative. Challenging.

Of course, you're testing the boundaries of Scaramouche's resolve, as he does with yours. Suddenly, the atmosphere is taut and palpable with tension for what may become of the future.

Sly, sly little songbird.

Something most unanticipated happens, and you reveal your hands, which you freed from their binds. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise Scaramouche, what with your prowess in the art of escape, but regardless your smile stretches in the presence of the astonishment that lifts his eyebrows and makes his eyes flash white, if only briefly. You take your time observing such a paltry display of rare, raw, emotion, how it shapes the contours of his features at the command of your actions. And gently, you take his hand that graces your throat and tenderly place it on your cheek.

"Ah... You've always been this way, haven't you, Kunikuzushi? Since the very day fate first connected your eyes to mine? " You slant your head into his cold hand with all the fragility of a shedding lotus petal descending into a reservoir, resting your cheek against his cold, liquid touch. Although, the action is far from affectionate. Rather, it's reminiscent of a sort of obstinacy, wearing the facade of love.

"You pine for my heart like you're starved for my flesh.” You take his hand and pass it through your cloak, poising it on your chest, right above your pumping heart.

"But... Perhaps I have no heart to offer you. What then? What will you do when you realize, there is no flesh to pick from my bones? No heart beneath my ribs?"

Scaramouche trudges through your words, running them across his mind. No plausible answer makes itself seen. He relinquishes his hand from your chest.

A cat may not have wings, but it is unrelenting.

“If you have no heart…” He murmurs, before smiling a bitter smile, “Then I’ll make you learn how to love.” how to love him. “I’ll create a heart in the shape of my love, and then I’ll take it. By force if I must.”

"You're willing to create something, just to seize and destroy it..." His words taste like blood upon your tongue. Strange. Carrying pleasantry and uncanniness in a sordid congruence. your lips falter from their smile.

"What a rotten soul you have... When will you realize that your avarice will be your demise?"

A wry, perhaps relenting chuckle emerges from your throat. Then you sigh.

"Perhaps we were made for each other." “

Then why do you run from me? Why do you fight, when you’re meant to be mine?” He asks, vehement, pertinacious.

"But that is where you're mistaken, Scaramouche. You see—” You direct your pointer finger to his chest, resting it in the junction between his collarbones.

“—You're tenacious in pursuing me. But I'm," You points at herself, "Tenacious in avoiding you. We are made for each other like the same ends of two magnets. The same, yet destined to be apart."

There it is, another one of your challenging remarks. The chirping nightingale wriggles free and unfurls it's wings, just as the cat thinks the bird is trapped beneath its paws. And oh, how infuriating, how exhilarating you are. Hatred is a simmering tempest that ignites the harbinger's temper. He despises how affixed he is to you, to the thought of trapping you beneath his claws, only for you to fly free and rejoice your liberation in song. It's petty. It's pathetic. It's irresistible. The Balladeer scoffs.

“Is this all just a game of push and pull to you? Just how long are you willing to avoid me?”

 “How long are you willing to pursue me?”

“Until you submit to me.”

“Then, until you set me free.”

Scaramouche can only watch as you put on your hideous, inhuman, anomalistic smile. Fine, then. If nothing else, he’ll build you a gilded cage to lure you into a golden prison disguised as a paradise. He’ll rip your wings from your body, flesh and bone marrow hanging in loose tendrils, so to erase all notions of flying free from your unreadable mind that he tends to make his possession, until you’re bleeding so sweetly beneath his claws. His beautiful songbird, who sings in the shape of his love.

Because you were made for him. He, the heartless one, who wishes for a heart. For your heart, which you are't willing to offer. Which you wish you never had.

You’re the only one to believe he still has a soul. That he ever had one, rotten as it may be.

Scaramouche cannot let that go. Regardless of how many times you flee from his talons, he will find you and chase you to the very ends of this earth.

Fly away, little singing nightingale.

Lost Love (2)

Pairings: Wanderer x Reader

Contains: Fluff, lots of yearning, platonic relationship, post-Archon quest

Word Count: 600+

Summary: After erasing himself from Irminsul, Wanderer thinks it will fix all of his problems. Instead, he finds himself with regrets.

Part 1 | Part 2

"You know I love you. Is it too hard to love me back?"

Those words continued to haunt him every time he sees you walking through Sumeru City's marketplace. That smile, those eyes --- he hates how much he misses them; how much he misses you. There's a tug in his chest whenever you look his way, but he refuses to meet your gaze. Maybe it's shame. Maybe he's just a coward. Neither of which he'd ever admit to.

Despite this, his heart continues to yearn for you. But it's too late, he decided. You have no memory of him. He is nothing to you, and you seem so at peace that he doesn't have the heart to break it.

It's the afternoon when he happens to come across you buying some baked treats for lunch. There's a lightness to your movement that comes from abandoning the Fatui and living a free life. Without his influence, he wonders what Irminsul has replaced your motives with to leave you alone here in the city. Wanderer stands at a nearby stall, casting you a subtle glance as he watches your hands smoothly take two wrapped pieces of bread. Pretty hands he wishes he could hold one last time.

"Just two will do, thanks. Well, actually, can I also get..."

Your voice is mostly the same, but there's a peace to it that he doesn't recognize. You sound happier without him; less stressed. Content. It's a pleasant sound that makes his chest clench. Would you have sounded this lovely had you not approached him back when he was Scaramouche? It's something he doesn't want to think about.

Wanderer snaps out of his thoughts as you thank the baker once more, turning away with a smile with a bag of baked goods in hand. Despite his noble intentions, he is not a noble man. Neither is he selfish, he can be so so greedy.

As you begin to walk down the path towards another stall, he intercepts you. Your shoulders bump lightly, enough to catch your attention.

"Ah, excuse me," you exclaim apologetically, a polite small smile on your lips.

It's not enough. He wants to see that affectionate smile you once gave him. The one that makes your eyes twinkle.

"Be more careful," he responds coolly, tipping his hat slightly forward to avoid your gaze.

But he simply can't help himself. He turns his head upward once more and catches your raised brow, eyes curious as you take in his expression. Your eyes were always beautiful up close, especially when lit up by the sun.

"You bumped into me," you reply, tone both accusatory and amused. "But I'll let it slide though since you're cute."

Wanderer feels a familiar heat in his cheeks. It's something so childish to be flattered by, but it's only because it's coming from you. He can only scoff in turn, glancing to the side as he tries to focus on anything other than you...but his eyes finds their way back as they lock onto that smile. It's full of mirth and sweet amusement. He's the only one you should be smiling like that for.

"Trying to use flattery to divert blame? How childish," he chuckles, crossing his arms nonchalantly.

A huff of a laugh leaves you as you roll your eyes. "It's not flattery if it's the truth." You look him up and down with interest and curiosity. It's clear that he's not from the city; though neither are you.

"Do you want to have lunch?" You offer with a small smirk. "We can argue semantics over some treats."

You hold up your paper bag, giving it a light shake.

He knows that he should say no and let you go on your merry way, but the chance to be this close to you is too tempting to pass up.

"I don't have anything better to do. Why not?" His voice is cool and collected, but he feels anything other than that. Had he a heart, it would be pounding in his chest.

Maybe this time, he could do things right.

✦ You surprise them with terms of endearment in their language

(Or, pretending that Teyvat uses certain languages based on the regions.) 

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Childe 

✧ You don’t remember what prompted you to emit this word specifically, however, its occurrence was as natural as the auroras in the Snezhayan sky. During a typical day, when you were casually conversing with Pierro, you just replied with:

“Of course, just be careful, mel.” (honey)

It was out before you could register it, and you hoped he didn’t catch on. But it's known that nothing passes by the Jester unnoticed. Pierro’s gaze was uncharacteristically stunned, yet it softened the moment he turned to you. 

“It’s been… centuries since you called me that.” 

You averted your gaze away in shame, muttering a small apology. But the Director stepped closer to you, his gloved fingers brushing underneath your chin to look you tenderly in the eyes. 

“No, no. I do not seek an apology. You often called me melimelum (honey apple) during our days of guilelessness. Go on. Utter these words for me once more. I must know whether you remember them as much as I do.” 

Meeting his gaze, you stammered upon your words but managed to convey “mi mel” (my honey) for him again despite your coy disposition. The Jester smiled as if an eon-long frost had been melted off his heart. Thus, he leaned closer to relish your lips in his, whispering.  

“That’s more like it, corculum (sweetheart). These words are always sweeter when uttered by your lips.” 

✧ It is no one's surprise that you and Capitano participate in convivial challenges. Who else would match the harbinger’s fierce ambition for competition if it weren't for you, his partner? From duels, training, and games, to even… endearing nicknames. Yes, just loudly calling each other cute nicknames until the other gives up, in the privacy of your own home. 

“You may be the strongest man in Tevyat, Capitano, but!” - you loudly proclaimed “I can still defeat you in a battle of wits.” 

“Your words bring forth a challenge that I seek, my beloved. If you dare to challenge me, know that I will not back down.” 

“Hmph!” - you crossed your arms, a triumphant smile already gracing your features. “My dear, sweet Captain. Don’t be so sure of yourself. It’s clear that I love you more.” 

“Absurd,” - Capitano clenched his fists, his resolve is unshaken. “My love for you brings mountains to dust and the seas to dry. It is clear that I love you more.” 

“Tsk, tsk. I can still express my love in a far wider range, geliebter (loved one).” - There it was. Your special attack as you spoke confidently back. “ You better not underestimate me.” 

The Captain froze, his stance now rigid. Even through his pitch-black helmet, you could see you seized him off-guard. A word he has not heard in centuries, even more so, you put in the effort to pronounce it correctly. The Harbinger stepped closer, his sharp fingers gently cupping your cheeks.

“My dear, cherished, loved engelchen (little angel). Where did you learn that from? Such sweet words will not be tolerated. I shall memorize the entire dictionary to out-win you in this battle of precious monikers.” 

“Oh yeah? We’ll see, herzblatt (sweetheart), because I did my research! So I win!” - you mumbled proudly, even when Capitano kept squishing your face by squeezing your cheeks lovingly. 

Your little ‘warfare’ was left at that, and you didn’t think much of it afterward. A successful conquest; or so you credulously thought. Little did you expect, that in a couple of days, Capitano would burst into the room, a thick book in his hand labeled ‘Dictionary & Encyclopedia of Teyvat's Ancient Languages’.

“My dear, you won’t believe this! I have found a compelling addition to what I must call you, notlazohtlé." (my precious thing)

“U-um, Capitano. You didn't actually spend days trying to memorize a whole… dictionary, did you?”

“Nonsense. A warrior never backs down from a challenge. Especially one bestowed upon him by his yōltzin.” (lover)

✧ When Il Dottore heard you speak, he had to ensure the grip on his book was firm. He swore he almost dropped it but made sure to conceal it, as his back was facing you while he stood in front of bookshelves. 

“What did you just say?”

“Habibi” - you retorted simply. “Or, do you prefer azizam?” (my dear)

There was a prolonged silence coming from the Doctor. The sound of this native tongue brought a conflicting range of abrupt disgust and wistful familiarity. Yet Dottore clenched his jaw; there wasn’t an ounce of humor in his voice, and he would much rather go on pretending he hadn’t heard you say those words. 

"What are those harebrained names you are calling me? Has your time in Sumeru made you so asinine?"

You were not surprised he reacted this way. Nonetheless, It was futile to hide your solemn disappointment, so you sighed - "Never mind..." 

The book he had been flicking through was gradually set aside. Although you couldn’t read his expression, he remained eerily still. 

"Say it again." 

"Hm?" 

"I said,” - Il Dottore suddenly turned, stepping closer to firmly set his hands on the table, looming over you. “Say it again." 

Oh no, you thought. “I said habibi. Like people in the Sumeru desert region often say… But I thought you’d loathe it so maybe aziz-” 

Your words were cut off, as the Harbinger cupped your jawline and made sure to silence your doubts with his own lips. The sudden kiss was as sweet and warm as honey, and as ardent and fiery as the blazing deserts of Sumeru. 

“I was not being serious.” - He explained after leaning away, even if his scoff came out stilted. He didn’t mean to be rude, instead, he was impressed you went your way to learn these expressions. His hold on your jaw abates in an instance “Call me whatever you want.

You blink - “Well, you studied like… twenty languages since you were a student. So I wanted to gauge your reaction. What about ‘my heart’? was it kalbi, or…?” 

“...Ya balsam qalbi (O balm of my heart), you just called me a dog.”

The Doctor couldn’t help but laugh at your antic. Your sweet attempts at endearment were beyond him, especially when you fumbled on pronunciation. Thus, he settled with teasing you, locking his lips back with yours. You could feel his love wash over you like the gentle breeze blowing across the sand; carrying away any lingering worries and leaving you with the joy of being with him.

✧ Scaramouche abhors seeing couples being all mushy and sweet in public. Lovers giggling when embracing under the shade? Ugh. Calling each other cute nicknames as they walk? Disgusting. Stealing discreet kisses while no one is looking? Nauseating! 

His reaction is nothing new for you, as he frequently crossed his arms in annoyance. Particularly after a nearby married couple passed by the two of you, one of them saying “Anata, don't forget to buy some sugar and flour on our way home.” - Just people going on with their lives. What you didn't expect was how the Puppeteer would latch to your arm and accuse you:

“Why are you not calling me that!?” 

You blinked in bewilderment - “...what?” 

Scaramouche huffed, his expression sour - “You know what! Dropping the semi-formalities and using Anata (dear). Don't make me repeat myself.” 

“But that's how married couples refer to each other.”

“So?” 

Silence. The two of you awkwardly stood still, frozen. And then it clicked. “I can’t believe my ears… The 6th of The Fatui Harbinger,” 

“Wait, I take it back –” 

“Is asking me,” 

“Don’t. Don’t you da–” 

“To use anata, like a precious spouse would do to their loved one! Aaa!” - you gushed and beamed, your tone countering Scaramouche’s flustered groans, while he tugged at his hat to conceal his furrowed eyebrows. “Should I welcome you home with a cute pink apron, telling you that dinner and a bath are ready, too? Or maybe, offer you something else… ” 

“You’re insufferable. I regret even bringing this up now.” 

“Fine, Fine. I'll stop." - you sighed after a hearty chuckle. “Sometimes, rigid formalities can appear as an insult too, you know. After all, what sort of sweetheart would I be if I didn’t consider your troubles."

You mused innocently at the mental image of using terms of endearment like a married couple. However, your imagination was interrupted as the Harbinger took it upon himself to grab your waist, pulling you flush against him.

"Did I tell you to stop? If we're going to pretend to be a cute, married couple - then do so properly. Besides, what was that part about offering something else when greeting me back home?” 

✧ When you prepare little surprises for your beloved Pantalone, you often come up to him with contagious excitement, eager to show what nick-nacks and artifacts you brought along. This time, you recently returned from an expedition in Liyue, and as always your affluent partner greeted you with honeyed enthusiasm, embracing you tightly as you spoke of your adventures.

“Pantalone, Pantalone!” - You exclaimed gleefully “I learned something new while I was staying in Liyue Harbour!” 

“Oh? And do tell, sweetheart, what is it that caught your curiosity this time?” - Pantalone spoke elegantly, helping you undress from your adventuring garbs. 

“I was familiarizing myself with certain literary texts and it led me down a rabbit hole of traditional phrases common in Liyue… And I figured out how to call you precious! Bǎobǎo!” (baby) 

Pantalone’s eyes shot wide open with renowned zeal. He grinned and clasped his hands, “Oh, my treasure! How adorable of you! And did you go all the way out just to learn this for me? Let me hear you say it again.”

“Bǎobǎo! It suits you! Or maybe you prefer xīn'gān?” (heart and soul)

Pantalone was ecstatic, his smile further widening - “My, my, you certainly worked on your pronunciation. Your stay in Liyue paid off then, because dear, you are making me swoon with your adorable surprises. Pray tell, what other phrases did you learn?” 

“Well, I was told that lǎogōng (hubby) is good.”

“Mhm, yes, yes.” - Pantalone nodded.

“Also huài bāo,” (naughty)

“O-oh?”

“And wǒ yào nǐ,” (I want you)

“O-.... oh,”

“And also shǐjìn yīdiǎn (go harder), but I was told this one is a little bit intense.”

The Regrator became motionless. You gazed at him with such pure naïveté, so oblivious that your charming perception didn't grasp the weight of these foreign words. He placed his hands on your shoulders firmly and inquired seriously:  

“My sweetheart. Who, exactly, taught you all this?”

“Well, so. There was this lady who had a small perfumery shop by Chihu Rock. I think her name was Ying'er.” - you pondered but smiled “She was a nice lady, she taught me all these phrases, and said they would work like a charm!”

Pantalone had to exert all his mental strength to avoid fainting or exploding. He is unsure of what exactly, but one more word from you and he'd drop to his knees with a ring for you. Rather than translating your earlier words, the Harbinger lets out a shaky sigh and focuses on controlling his hitched breathing.

“Oh, Shǎguā (silly). If you were unsure of the words' meanings, you could have just asked me and I would have demonstrated. Personally.”

✧ It was another day at Tartaglia’s family home in Snezhnaya. You visit him often and his family has long since welcomed you as part of their household. Especially the siblings, as Teucer and Tonia always welcome you with tight embraces whenever you arrive. 

When you found your beloved Childe in the kitchen, he innately greeted you with a kiss on the cheek, asking: “You’re right on time, sweetpea. We’re planning on making homemade meat dumplings. Maybe some borscht as a side dish too. Is that okay with you?” 

To which you simply nodded, already moving to help - “Of course, milyy (sweet). Do you need me to start with the bullion?” 

The Harbinger stopped. He never heard you use native terms, but when he registered your words, his head quickly snapped toward you in astonishment.

“Do my ears deceive me?! Did you just call me…!” 

Aha, so you got him. You tried to hide your giddiness, a faint grin threatening to appear - “Well, I just tried to use something new. You love nicknames, right? So perhaps…” 

“Say it again!” - The man practically leaped at you, his eyes now glowing with elation as he hyped you up to reveal your cards. 

“Okay, okay big guy, just take it easy. I just said milyy (sweet). Maybe you’d like it if I said… lyubimyy (darling)?”

Tartaglia gasps as your sweet words hit his ears, but then a wide grin spreads across his face. “Oh, is this a challenge? If so, fight me! I will shower you with more love for each sweet word coming out of your mouth. But I warn you, you'll have to use them a lot more often from now on.” 

He kisses your cheeks again, this time with even more passion and fervor while he cupped your cheeks. His lips felt like waves crashing against the shore, and each one left an invisible imprint of love and adoration on your soul. As you chuckle at his affectionate antics, small hushed voices interrupt you two. 

Teucer and his sister Tonia were peeking behind the kitchen door, giggling as they eavesdropped on you two. However, when Tartaglia caught their gazes, the rascals scurried away giggling.

“Hey! Quite sneaking in! Did your parents not teach you to give adults some privacy?” 

Latin: melimelum (honey-apple), mel (honey), corculum (sweetheart) German: geliebter (Loved one), herzblatt (sweetheart), engelchen (little angel) Nahuatl (Aztec): notlazohtlé (my darling/precious thing), yōltzin (lover) Persian: azizam (my dear) Arabic: habibi (my dear), Ya balsam qalbi (O balm of my heart), qalbi (my heart), kalbi (my dog, lmao)  Japanese: Anata (informal you, dear for couples)  Mandarin: Bǎobǎo (baby), lǎogōng (hubby), huài bāo (naughty), wǒ yào nǐ,” (I want you), shǐjìn yīdiǎn (go harder), Shǎguā (silly melon) Russian: milyy (sweet), lyubimyy (darling)

*While I speak Arabic, and Russian and know a little bit of Japanese; If you have some additional info on the linguistic part, or speculation or spot some inaccuracies - please, please, please 🙏 kindly share them with me! I am open to fixing any mistakes. Or if you just have headcanons and love projecting certain languages onto these characters like I do - share them with me! 

Thank you 

OMG could you just imagine how smug wanderer will be if he gets to lay on darlings lap? A dream come true for him, as for the other party members.... well-

It's almost comical to compare Wanderer's past deeds to the shenanigans he's pulling at present. Make no mistake, he's completely lucid of his actions and how unbefitting it should be for him to do them. But there's the matter of you, with your annoyingly endearing kindness that attracts all sorts of malicious attention. He can't quite complain about it either because it saved him as well and even though Nahida emphasized how relationships aren't about balancing the books — his mind convinces him that that's why he's doing all of these. But in truth, he leans into that perception only because it suppresses the smidgen of guilt that gnaws at him (ew). Wanderer knows there's a boundary and he treads carefully around it. In any case, as long as he's cautious, he knows you'll always be his shield.

Kaveh is so flabbergasted, astonished and dumbfounded at the uncensored audacity of that brat that he chokes halfway through his sip of the wine — but even if the beverage wasn't in his hand, he's sure he would've choked on his breath anyway. To this day he's still dreaming about holding your hand and here's Wanderer, showing him the thumbs down while soaking in the comfort of your lap! His shock gradually fades as he wonders if he needs to pretend to be sick or something to get that treatment. But, knowing his luck he's sure it'd backfire as well. So he just seethes in his seat, for now.

Alhaitham doesn't even give the impression that he's looking at the fiasco — except he is by the rim of his book, more keenly than the rest present at that. To be even more honest, his eyes have never left you since the moment he entered the tavern so, he's acutely aware of every moment that lead to this... display. While the rest watch in disbelief, he's taking mental notes and running various simulations in his mind to picture the perfect scenario where he will instead be in the position of Wanderer. Or at least, doing so distracts him from succumbing to the less than pleasant feelings that arise at the sight.

Tighnari is exasperated. Yes, no dramatic response, just exasperation at its purest form. He's a busy person and it's only because of you that he's made his visits to Sumeru city regular. He does not have the time or energy to tolerate such incidents every single time. He's tried to convince you that the harmlessness of Wanderer is faux and just an act, but for whatever reason, your trust in the boy seems to be resolute. So he can do nothing but bear witness to these stunts with increasing audacity and that makes him want to tear his hair out at this point. Just you wait, he will find a way to expose the brat one day.

Of everything Cyno was expecting to see this evening, this was not at all in that list. He's not unaware of how touchy Wanderer tries to get each time he and the others are in the vicinity. A seasoned Matra's senses are far sharper than ordinary folk and Cyno is the only one that gets the message of this gesture immediately. He knows it's a warning and a claim. He can tell that there's something off about Wanderer and no, it isn't his act of being a goody-two-shoes. This stunt further justifies his suspicions and paired with the strength he displayed at the last round of the InterDarshan Championship — Cyno has made up his mind. He will challenge Wanderer to a duel right then and there, have fun settling this dispute.

Showering Them With Kisses (anywhere but his lips!) 

Featuring : Aventurine, Sunday, and Veritas Ratio (separate)

Aventurine

You sat on his lap as he's working on his tablet. The two of you are enjoying his free time at home, on top of his spacious bed and surrounded by his cat cakes. You stare at his handsome face, his pink eyes’ focus solely on his tab. Feeling left out, you tug on his sleepwear’s sleeve to gain his attention. 

“Hmm?” He's clearly still invested in his work. Even with you sitting on his lap. The audacity. 

“Are you done working?”

“Just a little more, honey. I'm about to hit the greatest sale of the month,” You can see a slight smirk forms on his face, Aventurine clearly enjoys the attention. 

“What about a little game?” His ears perked at your suggestion as he took a small glance at your face before continuing to tinker with his device again. 

“Do tell me,”

“If I can distract you from your tab, you'll leave it for the night!” One of his eyebrows lifts up at the suggestion. 

“Interesting.” He grins, “You must know that I won't relent on challenges, dear. If I managed to stay focused for another fifteen minutes, you'll cook breakfast for the rest of the week” 

“A little bit unfair, but deal!” And thus your small game begins. 

You start to kiss the shell on his ear, you can feel him shudder at the smallest contact and you smirked. The kiss trails to the side of his face, you hold his head gently so he won't back away from you and you continue to kiss on his soft cheek. You lifted your position to reach the corner of his eyes. Aventurine's hold on the tablet starts to stutter and you now slot yourself between him and his tablet. You kiss his temple, up to his forehead and back down to his other cheek. Your lover's resolve starts to crumble as he places his tab down on top of one of the critters. He pulls you closer to him while giggling at your endless kisses. It hasn't been five minutes yet. 

The blond tried to kiss your lips as you keep purposefully avoiding it, only for you to turn your head away. Aventurine frowns at the gesture. 

“Hey, what's with the selective kisses?”

“Every game needs a plan, my dear gambler. It distracts you and works perfectly doesn't it?” He chuckled at your jest before he managed to steal a kiss from you, leaving him wanting for more.

Sunday

He came back to your shared house with a huge scowl on his face. It seems that the endless hours of work, the dream master's unending list of tasks, and how he needs to keep his smile every time at all moments has taken its toll on him. You come to the living room to greet him, but he seems to try avoiding your gaze, not wanting to make you worry.

“What's wrong, love?” You walked to him only for him to sigh.

“Rough days as usual. It's nothing for you to worry about, my dearest. I'd rather have you to not… see me in such an improper state,” He smiles at you, earning the halovian a frown in return.

“That can't do,” He did plan to avoid you. Although, the moment you reached to hold his face, Sunday scrapped the plan and decided to indulge himself in your touch instead. You closed the gap by reaching to kiss his cheek. His wing flutters slightly at the affectionate gesture. He felt you hugging his waist as you pulled him to a nearby couch, sitting him down.

“What're you planning to do, dove?” You throw him a sly grin before letting yourself to sit on his lap while continuing to assault his face with kisses. As if his earlier burden steams away, the halovian let out small giggles at your kisses, feeling ticklish. You start to caress his left wing as you kiss his cheeks, moving to his forehead, the corner of his lips, his closed eye, his right wing, anywhere but his waiting lips.

You pulled back for a while to catch some breath before smothering him with more kisses. After you're satisfied, you take a good look at his now flustered face. His wings move in reflex to partially cover his red face.

“All better now, love?”

“I must say I'm a little disappointed. Despite your generous kisses, it seems that you've missed a certain spot,” Sunday gently grabs your hand for him to kiss your fingers, implying on his lips.

“That can wait after dinner, Angel”

Veritas Ratio

You can't stand him. You can't stand his assignments. He has been having a very hectic week. Just when he had come back from his visit to Herta's space station, more work came right to him, student's assessment, and these people who wanted their thesis to be assisted by him. You are now literally left out. As expected for being the famous Veritas Ratio's lover I suppose.

You drop by his office to give him his lunch. He looks up at the intrusion and he nods at you before he continues with his reports. You pouted at the view and you aggressively put down his lunchbox.

“Veritas, this is getting out of hand.” He sighed but he didn't move his eyes up from his papers.

“I know, I'm clearly doing everything as fast as I can so it will end faster. You should already know that having to spread righteousness is not an easy and instant task and patience breeds success. I'll be home tonight,” He didn't come home because he passed out at his office yesterday.

You walked to his side and leaned your face closer to his. He looks up to you so you use the chance to kiss his forehead. The scholar's face starts to let out a pinkish colour, flustered. You pepper his face with kisses, from his forehead down to his cheek, moving to his eyeliner and ending it on the tip of his perfectly sculpted nose. You teasingly place your lips dangerously close to his lips after. Just when he wanted to lean closer to kiss you, you pulled away from him. You giggled at his flushed state as you walked away from him. You had never seen him let out a frown that cute.

“My, my, that would be quite inappropriate behaviour to do in an academic environment, don't you think so, Doctor?” he groans at your jest.

“What a fool. Such a waste of time, you should be able to maximize your gain while you're at it,”

“Remember, Doctor,” He visibly rolls his eyes at how you keep calling him that instead of your usual sweet nicknames, “Patience breeds success, and I'm sure you're able to gain more of you came back home more often,” Before he can argue, you left his office with a permanent smirk etched to your face.

---

My inbox are still open, rules on my pinned post <3

Kiss me now...

(Wanderer x reader)

[@arisewanekosuki I immediately thought of you in the middle of writing this...sorry if the meow is being a tiny bit aggressive wkwkwk... |ω･)ﾉ]

~

"Kiss me now or say goodbye to oxygen", is what had first left his mouth when you see Wanderer approaching. His brows furrowed so much, scowl so deep, and irritation and annoyance just oozing from his being. If you're honest, he literally looks like he's about to murder someone.

"Bad day?", you had asked out of concern, genuinely so. You don't really like seeing him this angry, and from past experiences you know it's best to help calm him down first. Yet before you could pull him to the side to sit, or offer him a comforting hug, it seems your words only further irritated him.

"I warned you", was all you heard before he had grabbed you by your clothes, smashing his lips against yours in a needy, desperate kiss. There was no hesitation in pushing his tongue inside your mouth, sliding against your own and swirling and taking your breath away. His other hand quickly latching onto the back of your neck to keep you there locked in against his lips. His other arm already making its way around your waist to pull you impossibly close to his body.

You could feel the tension on his shoulders slowly loosening, his brows less furrowed the longer he locked lips with you. But he was far from relaxed and far from being done with you. You were glad that you could help in some way and would honestly let him do as he pleased. But the lack of air in your lungs prevented that, the light frantic taps on his chest and gentle pushing you give him begged for just a little breath before you become lightheaded.

With an annoyed groan he gave you your short breath, reluctantly pulling away from your lips but once you took that one inhale he was immediately on you again, stealing that breath right back. He repeated the process a few times just barely letting you breathe. Until you had to put your hands over his mouth and push him away lightly to gulp in your needed oxygen. He literally almost bit you for that.

"You made your choice, so stick with it", he huffed, pushing against you again with your wrists pulled away in his grasp.

"W-Wait...hah...don't you-"

"I'll tell you about it later, now shut up and kiss me while I'm still being nice"

Technically, he was right. He IS being nice right now. He could easily overpower you and take what he wanted. Yet he hadn't fail to be gentle with you from the start.

"Okay okay... Let's at least sit down? A-And give me more time to breathe this time!"

"Tch"

father!sunday headcanons

🌸 Platonic + Found family or Familial

🪷 spoilers for penacony quest / slight manipulation (?) / overprotectiveness / written during 2.1

Definitely played peekaboo with his wings when you were an infant

Hums songs for you to sleep, or to comfort you

He usually helps you get ready; brushing and doing your hair, fixing your clothing before you go out etc.

Loves to spoil and dote on you, he doesnt have much free time due to his job so he mostly spoils you with a lot of gifts

you will grow up very sheltered, he tells you that no one can take care of you better than he can, and you idolize him in return, he wants to make sure you will never leave his side so that he can protect you

He only really trusts Robin around you, she would babysit you at the time you couldnt stay alone, Sunday would always try his best to get a break to watch over you, but if he couldnt and Robin was busy, he would bring you to work with him

when you could finally stay alone, he would always have some bloodhounds watching over you while he is not there to ensure your safety

if someone ever hurt you, then Sunday would be their worst nightmare

his overprotectiveness gets tenfold because of the events happening before charmony festival

he wouldnt want you to leave dewlight estate after hearing about his dear sisters fate

he would bring anything you want to your room, and spend time with you so you dont feel alone, all he is asking of you is to not leave

overall, a very doting but overprotective father

pathetic little thing

warnings: gn reader, not reviewed

A/n: I wanted to do something about boothill with kids...but I'm trying to expand the fandoms for me write (っ- ‸ - ς)

You don't even know what your relationship with him is, Or rather, why does he stay by your side? who knows? Maybe he has his own reasons.

although he is a rude and sarcastic ball all the time with you, even belittling you sometimes, but sometimes you feel like they are just empty words, it's just as if such harsh words come out naturally from him and he doesn't really want to hurt you or upset you.

His words say one thing but his actions say another. "pfft- how long have you been trying to solve this question on your test? even an earthworm would think faster than you."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"tsk- let me help you with this so you can finish quickly and go help me set the table for dinner"

he can say as much as he wants that he doesn't care about you, but he's the one who takes care of you when you're sick even without you asking, he was the one who got into a fight with an idiot who was looking at you too much when leaving the supermarket, he was the one who stayed stay on throughout the party just to ensure your safety...

for some reason he knows everything about you, favorite food, favorite artists, the perfume you wear every day, hell he even knows what your favorite shirt is.

If he had to say someone he really hates it would be that scum you call 'boyfriend'

You can see the disgusted face he makes when that scum kisses your cheek, while your boyfriend is around he will become twice as dry and sarcastic, even pouting and ignoring you both

He knows very well that that guy is a pure evil character who is just using you, but you're too naive to realize that, aren't you? stupid little thing...

and when you notice your boyfriend cheating on you with someone else he will just appear behind you with a mocking laugh (although his face is serious) as he watches the situation unfold before sighing and lazily wrapping his arm around your waist "hah- see? I said he wasn't worth it...even I can be a better boyfriend than him."

After this incident he starts to be more affectionate with you, although he still remains sarcastic but he tries to make you laugh more...

Scaramouche/Wanderer, Dr.Ratio, Ace Trappola, Wakasa imaushi, Masumi Yodogawa, +u fav

Can you do platonic Arlecchino with a reader who ran away from the house of the hearth, and years later she found out from the other harbingers they are with the Traveler helping them out on their journey, she later confronts them on Fountain? How would it go, (also can this take place after 4.3?)

(Sure! If you want a part 2 just give me some more context! Dms or just request again! If you want me to change something’s lmk!)

My Dear Child

•When arlecchino first noticed your absence she thouggt you were playing around with Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet but when they noticed them alone to tricks..he was puzzled where was her child?! You were 5 at this time of course Arlecchino was worried you were your CHILD her biological one to be in-fact so she had her fatui unit look for you, over the years she didnt send as many out but she did still kept her eye out not stoping until she finds you

•10 years later you were in fontaine, you didnt think arlecchino was still looking for you so you were a little more laid back, but it was a huge mistake they spotted you immediately seeing that smile, hearing that laugh, it made then smile, happy, they finally found their sibling! So they would quickly go and tell arlecchino he would send extra fatui agents out to fontaine

“My child why did you run?”

•You knew that voice..you didnt think he would still remember fatui agents circling around you, you heard what happen with her and furina you couldnt run you were cornered you were screwed

“It doesnt CONCERN you I didnt want to kill innocent people”

•Arlecchino would sigh fatui agents would grab onto your arms to make you stay in place Arlecchino would walk towards you lifting your chin smirking

“Your siblings missed you lets go home.. My Dear Child”

(FINSIHED!!! YAYAYAY im sorry this was short! So i am willing ti make another part ofc!)

view me as a god — self aware (yandere) wanderer x gn reader

warnings: self aware au, reader is viewed as the player, reader is obsessed with genshin in the beginning, codependency (aether and wanderer), wanderer develops a victim mentality, traveler is a goat, aether is he/they (you'll know what I'm talking about)

notes: wanderer lore spoilers to those who haven't read, that one event in 1.6 spoilers to those who haven't played; if my account were self aware, i'd actually kms — the characters don't need to see my bio 😭 / i didnt know what team to put him with so i used my own / congrats king on your second rerun 🙏

it was never intended to be taken this far. this little game you've played for years without end had begun to take your social life away and left you in the dark, the only light you saw was the one on your screen.

the sweet voices of the characters , the beautiful scenery and designs, and the story of the fictional world was so alluring you barely slept. thank god your career had the option of working at home so no other potential coworker could've said something about your disheveled hair or your unpleasant smell.

your life was as perfect as can be as long as you see a picture or anything related to your video game! codependency? what is that? shh, you can survive an hour without it!

fuck. once in his many lives, he had never felt so cold. what was wrong with him?

with every name he gained, another tie to his joints tightened its grip on the wanderer, trapping him from the pleasant feel on calmness but the name the traveler gave it felt so pure and warm like a toasty fireplace during the snow. the puppet hadn't felt any warmth in his body since niwa's irreversible death as his still-beating and bleeding heart has been put inside the chest of wanderer. but now it was gone, just like the other feelings of happiness and sweet childish dreams.

"traveler? why'd we stop?" xiangling asks as she helped bennett sit down beside the anemo statue of seven in windrise to heal his injuries as quickly as possible. layla helps the poor boy eat something she packed into her inventory.

the traveler could only stay silent before letting out a small whisper as the wind slows down, the statue of seven only shining so dimly, not like it does when it feels something — someone greater. "i don't feel it anymore." they sit down on the broken stone steps leading to the statue.

"feel? feel what?" layla mutters, laying her head on the globe she keeps near as she rests her eyes. the traveler doesn't respond as they look through their bag for something. they obviously panic, their chest falling down and rising up quicker than a rabbit's. their golden chest plaque dims ever so slightly, just as the windrise statue's light. "the, uhh... uhm, the wind."

of course the idiots fell for it, wanderer thinks as he hears the collective agreement from his party. he doesn't bother setting down his hat as he sits beside a totem near the staircase, not bothering to show his respect to the anemo god or his peers. they're just there to help him please them, to eliminate any obstacle in the traveler's way as their form of appreciation for what they've done for their accounted nations. but they, not the traveler but they weren't pleased.

is that the reason wanderer couldn't feel their warmth? he didn't attack fast enough, hit hard enough, dodge quick enough? was he not enough for the person behind the stars? the dweller who called "earth" their home?

"why are we in windrise, if i can ask?" layla sits beside the traveler. her curls curl around her while her golden accents let out small hymns. "to... to uhh...heal bennett. i do feel very bad for him with his bad luck and all..."

wanderer knew it was a white lie. sure, bennett had been hurt badly even with layla's shielding and guoba's defensive demeanor towards the poor child and his bad luck was only getting worse with the amount of constant traveling the party did but really, all the traveler wanted to do was rest and wait for that feeling.

the feeling of being monitored, not as a prisoner but as a fragile thing, to be cared for and used as a hollow doll—no need to lift a finger unless told to and loved for their hard work—the work they didn't even do. to be drowned in affection, suffocated with praises, and shot with care and pity. something that the wanderer despised so much but craved so badly.

not by anyone, no. no one, no mortal or god could make him feel this way, but something hidden, someone hidden behind a mask, the stars, and celestia itself was waiting for him, wanting him, caring for him like he was.

when he couldn't dodge an attack, he was healed instantly. when he had no energy, it was replenished right before his eyes. when he wanted to be stronger, he became just that. it was a complicated choice between his morals and integrity or his selfish desires and temptations.

bennett didn't heal as fast as he does when the greater person behind the screen is there. he blames it on his bad luck but both the traveler and wanderer know what's really wrong. his pale face slowly turns back to his tanner complexion as time moves forward and everyone decides to rest up a bit before the night ends.

it's been too long since the feeling went away.

"[wanderer]! is it okay if you're on watch duty?" that name. it felt like a childhood lullaby, something the elderly women of tatarasuna would sing him to sleep when he was awoken by nightmares. that name was his, something he held to with genuine pride, not like his other disdainful names that were given by cruel people or joking jesters.

"alright." there's no sigh, groan, or remark afterwards to everyone's surprise. it only happens once in a blue moon and you know damn well that they took it to heart.

layla and xiangling slept beside bennett while aether sat where he was with his eyes closed. there was a moment of silence where it was just beautiful.

the crystalflies didn’t hide from the characters, an anemo one landing on layla’s nose and on the top of the wanderer’s hat. the wind blew ever so softly and for a moment, the wanderer could feel that warmth again.

“what’s up with you?” the traveler asked. his eyes stayed close but they were attentive like always.

“nothing.”

“liar.”

wanderer frowns and slightly turns his head to see them. a smile grew on their face and they sat up, opening their eyes and looking directly at him. “you felt it, didn’t you?” the wanderer looks away.

“do you always ask dumb questions?”

the traveler beside him stifles a laugh. “they’re not dumb,” they pause. they have a visible frown painted on their face now. “you know, don’t you?”

“what? that there’s some being out there controlling us, that the world shifts to their liking, or that you can practically see their face written in those damned stars?”

they stay silent. how’d he even know? was it that meteorite from long ago? “yeah, i guess.”

the wanderer scoffs at his companion's vagueness. “i’m tired of being a vessel.” that was obviously a lie. he can’t remember the last time he actually enjoyed serving someone, let alone helping if it wasn’t for his own personal gain. it felt nice being used (which is something he never thought he’d ever think).

aether sighs, leaning on the totem. they closed their eyes, "wake me up later then."

the wanderer scoffed. "i'm not your alarm," he says but he doesn't complain any further, simply watching over his teammates, the ones you assigned him, with a faint frown on his face. just where were you?

you quickly sweep your phone off of your desk once you come back from an errand. it was only a few minutes but still! you need your game to thrive at work, remember?

it had been days to them. they were at windrise, where you left them, your whole team. thank the gods. everyone was awake and ready to be used as characters.

you continued what you were doing prior to your errand, collecting crystalflies and flowers for your characters' ascensions.

wanderer didn't tell anyone he felt your warmth.

he shouldn't, he couldn't—wouldn't. no one else had suffered like him, it was unfair for those who didn't deserve it to bask in the sweet feeling of your muse. everything bad happened to him; nothing ever bad happened to anyone else.

nahida was right; he needs help!

your help. you were the only one who could help him, help the poor wanderer who had cried and groveled at your feet centuries ago, begging for a god greater than the gods to take care of him and help him—you!

you put him through all this pain to help him in the end, right? to free him, make him truly himself and not part human or puppet but himself again.

his salvation wasn't leaving him; he wouldn't let it happen.

𝜗𝜚。．． ❛ #HER NEW BOYFRIEND’S NEXT!

𐙚 synopsis。．short hcs/scenarios of jealous yandere aventurine & sunday ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

．。𝜗𝜚 cw。suggestive themes . general yandere themes, brainwashing, gaslighting in Sunday’s part, mentions of violence, mentions of scide, imprisonment, except for aventurine relationships are not established, WARNING: extremely obsessed and smitten with you, read at risk!

．。𝜗𝜚 a/n。honestly why do i think sunday will be literally the most dangerous yandere you could ask for。man has all the resources to brainwash you and lock you up pls

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY．。

。… a classic yandere obsessed over control. 。literally, he will be such a control freak. he has eyes all over penacony. he would have already kept track of what kind of soulglad you drink, when you get home, what your sleep habit is, all under the span of a week, and that’s before meeting you. obviously, as your future spouse, he is just obtaining information he needs for the future! 。will treat you surprisingly equally to his other guests when you meet, he doesn’t want gossip to get around, and he wants to make this “process” as natural as possible. 。after you are successfully within his area of control, he will start to monitor you even more meticulously- who you meet, what you do in your dreams.. he is a bit disappointed you don’t visit him on your own accord, but that will all be arranged soon! 。will casually go up to your room to ask you about “room service satisfaction” when he’s actually just busy breathing in your lovely scent and assessing your room for any “threat.” 。he doesn’t like that you’re affecting his ability to work. he’s impatient, of course, but he knows that he will have to wait for the perfect opportunity to whisk you away like a knight in shining armor. And all he needs is a little pawn to play the act of a villain- oh, your little male acquaintance will do! 。he’s like that- using people around you as puppets to his grand stage. Sunday is well-informed about morals, of course. But he won’t feel much guilt, not when he knows this is all for the ‘greater good.’ “They” will approve of it. 。and so, he starts to crack his charming facade- he will start asking you for private meetings, and he will put you in a vip room so you are isolated. He does this under the mask of ‘danger,’ saying that you have faced too many threats and he needs to ensure his guest’s safety. 。If you call your friends for help? The next day, they are mysteriously gone from penacony. You call them but your phone is out of service. 。but if you are still not charmed over his chivalry.. he’ll have to settle for easier methods.

❝ WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?”

Your demand was choked with such pleasant sobs that SUNDAY couldn’t help but slip out a small victorious smirk that quickly masks itself to a concerned facade when you fix your angry watery eyes at him.

“I know it was you,” you continue, pacing around his office while he remains nonchalantly seated, trailing his eyes to your every step. “You made all my friends vanish from penacony, you had my parents escorted away to aeons know where, you stowed me here like I’m some kind of precious little jewelry for your eyes only. What do you want from me?” The evident snarl in your words merely makes Sunday tip his head a little, staring at you with the same serene look that frustrated you.

“Oh, sweetheart, you got it all wrong.” He shakes his head in disappointment and rose up from his seat, taking silent strides to you at an alarming speed that made you stumble backwards to the door. “‘They’ have done nothing for you during your stay in the Reverie. You are always disappointed with them, but you choose not to speak up. It is such a painful sight, you are just like a bird who lost its voice.” His voice is surprisingly gentle, dangerously neutral, which scares you, and makes you doubt yourself.

Maybe you were just being stupid, Sunday was acting like it wasn’t a big deal. And your friends indeed did not do much for you here, unlike Sunday, who provided you with all this luxury without accepting anything in return. You feel safe here, almost. You blink a little- the heat that had pounded through your ears was gone, and now you feel like a harmless puppy that just barked his best at a wolf.

“It‘s natural to be mad, dear.” His hand delicately entangles itself into your locks, and you stare at him, unable to say anything as he soothingly whispers. “It is hard to understand actions for the greater good. relax, sweetheart. Everything will be better now,” he purrs, staring right into your eyes. They are endless depths of azure. They are very, very mesmerizing, you think.

“Everything will be better now,” you realize, and you sigh into his arms that seemed to suddenly be present around you. But the worry disperses, you are fine with being close with him. His embrace is welcoming and soft. You don’t want to leave it ever again.

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE．。

。this man takes the cake for being the most jealous man in honkai 。he’s a charmer. he wins you over easily, because who could resist his charisma and his wealth, honestly. He flirts his way easily with you— unlike Sunday, he likes an impromptu plan, and rather enjoys surprises- any attempt of you trying to break up with him will not irritate him at all, contrary to the former. 。“Your attempts fascinate me. Too bad you lost all your bargaining chips. You gonna play another round with me, love? I’m more than willing to, you know.” 。he will be pleased, intrigued at how he can break you down again. he likes a little chase and gamble, he doesn’t want his prey served on his plate, he likes the thrill of hunt. 。he’d even be impressed if you escape him. But not for long, because he will bring you back to where you belong. 。this man will barely be angry over you. He won’t force any affection onto you, he satisfies himself by buying you expensive clothes instead, as if you are his little doll. He is content with you being a quiet and submissive trophy. 。what this man does not tolerate, however, is you being with anyone else. He cannot bear the thought that someone is around you more than he is, and that you rely on someone more than you rely on him. Aventurine has pride over his abilities, anyone taking you is like taking his most precious trump card. 。despite the jealousy he feels, he will still regard this as a particularly entertaining game. But he knows he will win this gamble, too.

❝ AH, IT’S SUCH A THRILLING GAME, ISN’T IT, SWEETHEART?”

You watch AVENTURINE toss the coin into the air and roll it around his fingers, his mesmerizing eyes examine the bitter look of defeat on your features.

“This isn’t funny,” you sobbed, despair dawning on you upon realizing that you truly lost everything to him. You had no more moves left in this game he put you in. He was merciful enough to spare your blood relatives, but your friends were gone- including the nice and sweet, innocent guy you shared friendly banter with for barely an hour.

“A gamble is fair and share, love.” He puts his hand on your waist, giving you a short kiss that tasted of wine. You felt nothing but defeat as he tossed the coin on the table where it flopped. “You just picked the wrong set of cards to play with.”

He is close to you all of a sudden, his hot breath tickling your skin, smelling of victory and wealth. His eyes stare right into you as he chuckles, the sadistic glint in his eyes glitter a little more when you feel a tear escape your eye. He leans to your ear, lightly biting your earlobe as he adds,

“Nobody wins with a deck with only clovers, my love. A shame that your cards were so… discardable.”

He laughs at that, watching your stunned face. He loves the look of surprise on you. It is endearing, it shows so well that you do not know how to play his game at all.

AURORA. — Arlecchino's child has never seen the aurora in Snezhnaya before.

— trigger & content warnings. none applicable!

— pairings & notes. fluff. arlecchino & reader. reader is a member of the house of the hearth, is at least around 15 but is otherwise ambiguous in age, and is implied to be arlecchino's chosen successor. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns used). arlecchino is suggested to be taller than the reader by quite a bit. 0.8k words.

— author's thoughts. arlecchino my beloved RAHHH she is literally the best fatui harbinger imo. i love you arle no. 4 of the fatui harbingers 🗣🗣❗️❗️❗️ i am surprised by the lack of platonic arlecchino fics!??!?! she is literally called father guys please /lh

       "Father..."

       Shadowing under the Fourth of the Fatui Harbingers during one of her trips to Snezhnaya was, no doubt, nervewracking and tiring despite them never needing to do anything other than follow her around; Arlecchino simply wouldn't allow some of her coworkers to even look in their direction, let alone try to speak to them. Some, like Tartaglia, however, were momentarily permitted to; Childe had talked their ear off while Arlecchino was occupied with the Regrator and the Rooster, though they could only wordlessly nod in response to the never-ending chatter about his siblings. 'You should come by sometime,' he had said. 'You kids from the Hearth are a good lot, and my family would be more than happy to have visitors.'

       Nevertheless, really, they hadn't done much at all... but perhaps the anxiety of dipping their toes into their Harbinger's responsibilities—the ones that they may very well inherit one day—was a valid enough reason to be so mentally tired.

       Standing close behind her, listening to her speak with her coworkers (it was quite amusing to see the glare and scowl fixed on her face when she needed to speak to the Doctor—she never looked at them or any of their siblings like that—though the sheer terror his presence induced was enough to drown that amusement out), seeing the details of her responsibilities that others could not...

       They were certain that they must've said a mere one or two words during the whole visit—a "Yes, Father" or a "No, Father," directed at none other than their Harbinger and her alone.

       Exhaustion and cold seeped into their bones, but nonetheless, they had stopped trailing after her and stared up in wonderment.

       Arlecchino stopped shortly after they did, turning back to them. "What is it?"

       Colors danced freely in the nighttime Snezhnayan sky. Despite the chill permeating their flesh (they were reminded that they probably should have dressed a bit more warmly, but they weren't familiar with the Motherland, and therefore didn't anticipate how cold the night would get), they felt no compulsion to rush.

       "Look. The aurora," they murmured, eyes wide with awe and wonder.

       The Knave's heels clicked on the tiled terrace at the front of the Winter Palace as she paced back over to them, following their gaze upwards. "Have you never seen it before?"

       "No. I... I've never been to Snezhnaya before now," they admitted, "so I have never seen the aurora. I've heard about it, but—"

       "I understand. It is more magnificent than even the most vivid descriptions."

       Suddenly, the heavy weight of the Knave's coat fell onto their shoulders. They gingerly clasped the edges, pulling it closer to their body as to fend off the biting chill in the air. Lavender and a vague twinge of smoke filled their lungs. To some, it may have been an unpleasant combination—perhaps others would find the smoke too stinging and bitter or the lavender too sickening, as some do. To them, however, it was simply... Father's scent. It was hard to dislike when the person they associated it with was so important to their life.

       It was equally hard to feel cold with her coat draped over their body.

       Father's particular scent made a comforting warmth stir in their chest—perhaps she was not really their Father, but it was times such as this that made them feel that she was—and her coat ensured that their exterior did not freeze.

       In fact, it was quite impossible to feel cold now.

       "...Let us stay for a while longer, then," she mused, one of her hands finding its place on their upper back. "The aurora is a sight to behold, and there are no urgent matters to attend to at home."

       Momentarily, their gaze broke away from the sky and shifted to the Harbinger instead. Though they did appreciate the gesture of giving them her coat... "Won't you get cold, Father?"

       Their concern was not unwarranted, but indeed unecessary.

       "Worry not," the Fourth replied smoothly, reaching over to adjust the coat somewhat; it was too big for them and threatened to slip off of their body if their already gentle hold were to loosen even slightly. Arlecchino absently mused to herself about how utterly unintimidating they were, drowning in the fluff of her coat and head just barely able to peek out from the top. It was cute, though she dared not say admit such a thing out loud. "I have long since grown used to this weather. You have not."

       'You need that coat far more than I do.'

       That was what she wanted to say, or rather what she was implying; she would speak her mind if she so truly desired to or felt the need to. They'd grown quite used to her enigmatic nature and quite skilled in reading between the lines, picking apart her words at the seams to uncover what she truly meant to say.

       Suddenly, under the flickering purples, greens, and blues of the night sky, it was no longer cold.

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4) Arlecchino redo

Platonic!Yandere!Arlecchino x Child!Reader

The danger of this platonic yandere-4/10

Common features:

Arlecchino, to be honest, is a little ashamed and unusual to realize that she has favorites. Her task was to make one big family out of the orphanage as much as possible. That is why it will be difficult for you to guess that she is yandere. Arlecchino has absolute control over her emotions, thoughts and actions and she will never allow herself to do something that she will greatly regret later. She didn't want to have rivalry among her children or spoil you, because of yandere side.

As with any of her other children, she's ready to kill for you. And trust me, she'll do it before you dare ask or complain to her. Information reaches her very quickly from a variety of sources. And she's not stupid or blind not to guess that something has happened.

A special feature:

Arlecchino will not try to be gentle or affectionate when it is not required. Unlike other platonic yanders, who most often want to have control over the reader and even make the reader dependent on them. The fourth harbinger acts in the opposite way. She doesn't like tears, especially yours, and therefore her main task is to make you strong and independent so that you have no reason to cry in the future. She wants to be the only reason you cry. After all, your tears will not bring her joy, but to other possible people it can be one of the sources of pleasure.

An adorable feature:

She has a diary in which all known information about you is stored. From your date of birth to your possible parents. She will search for any possible information about you. There are even a couple of photos in this notebook that show you with other children. And there's even your tooth, which was knocked out in a friendly fight...

Dark Reality (Filler)

Scaramouche x kitsune!fem!reader

synopsis | After all these years, you see your beloved enemy once more. And again, you two stand on opposing sides.

content | angst... i think

cw | none

a/c | @/ike_0910 on X (twt)

taglist | @ayanasss, @kunisnaomi, @swivy123, @blacky-rose, @cottencandysky, @i-ineedhelp, @vixialuvs, @shutingstar, @ashfrommars4, @xschizoe

a/n | a small filler for Flashing memories bcz the support has been overwhelming and it doesn't seem like it's winning my 300 follower poll 😭

If you haven't read the previous parts before, I strongly advise you to! Links are right here:

Flashing memories (1) + (1.5) here!

"THE WRATH OF THE GODS FILLS THIS FACTORY, and it feeds on your anger..." a husky laugh accompanied these words, as the Balladeer neared the traveller in slow steps. The traveller fell to the ground, their eyes closing as they struggled to keep themselves awake.

"Ah, what's happening..." Paimon immediately flew down to the traveller, shaking their arm frantically, "Get up...!" she yells panic-stricken. Their breaths were erratic, uneven as they tried to keep their eyes open, before they saw a figure walk ahead of their fallen figure. And soon their eyes closed.

Scaramouche tilted his head as he saw a woman approaching, clothed in a typical shrine maiden's attire and a mask of a fox covered her face. But he knew who it was. He could recognise you from anywhere, after all. You recognised him as well, the corners of your lips tugging downwards. After all these years, you two had to meet yet again. Paimon looked over to you, confused why you, Yae Miko's right hand, was here.

"Well if it isn't my beloved." he chuckles, crossing his arms as he stared at you. The mask only covered half of your face, the lower half was on full display for him, "Isn't it a wondrous meeting? We're fated to cross paths, aren't we, darling?" he smirked, his sharp gazes digging into the mask you wore. Then his smirk dropped, a scowl replacing his features. "What do you want?"

"Miss Tsuki? Do... do you know him?" Paimon flew over to hide behind your left shoulder, holding tightly onto the fabric of your clothes as she whispers not so quietly. You remain silent, glancing at her for a while before turning your gaze back to Scaramouche. "We... were acquaintanted a long time ago."

"Acquainted? Have you already forgotten all our lovely memories together?" he scoffed, "Or do you simply wish to forget me?" he knew you too well... or maybe he just guessed right. But you didn't let that faze you. You truly wished to bury those memories back deep into the forgotten corner of your mind. If it only were so simple.

"Hey! Don't talk to miss Tsuki like that! She would never ever hang out with an evil Harbinger like you!" the little fairy by your side jumped up from behind your figure to protect you, but was quickly shut down by the wrathful indigo that met her eyes. "'Tsuki', huh?" he scoffed once more, followed by an amused chuckle, "Since when did you go by such a distasteful name? Did that fox woman give it to you? I wonder..."

He paused, faking an expression as if he was deep in his thoughts, before muttering out your true name. The one he had given you all those years ago. "Did you not like that name?" he hummed, asking it as if it was a genuine question, "Nevermind that, makes it much more bearable to know you're not hopelessly clinging to that silly past."

"What do you want from the traveller?" you cut him off, not wanting to listen to his rambles. You did not need another reminder of what once was and what shall never be again. "Straight to the point, aren't you? I thought you might want to chat with me a bit longer. I suppose not." he faked a sigh, "I'm only here to kill the traveller."

Paimon shrieked in response, but you quickly shut her up. "I can't let you do that. I need them for something important." you reply, leaving out the fact that you were send by Yae Miko. She must've had a hunch that Scaramouche was involved in this damned factory or else she wouldn't have given you this important task of retrieving the traveller.

"As if I'd hand them over to you that easily." he smiles at you tauntingly. He opened his fist, a flicker of Electro created by his delusion danced across the palm of his hand. "You'll have to fight me if you're bold enough." he remarks, narrowing his eyes at your figure. In terms of power, you knew you couldn't beat him. Miko has already informed you about the Doctor breaking the seal to Scaramouche's abilites.

But you came prepared.

"I'm not searching for a fight. I'm here to trade with you." you say, hand reaching into your sleeve, before pulling out the gnosis. The one thing he was aiming for all his life. And now you held it in your possession right before his very being. He narrowed his eyes even further at the item in your hand. That was all he needed to achieve his purpose...

"I'll trade the traveller's life for the Electro gnosis." you spoke confidently, waiting for his reaction. He remained quiet, before a chuckle escaped his lips. It didn't take long for him to burst into a laughter of amusement. You furrowed your eyebrows behind the mask you wore, confused why he was laughing.

Once he calmed down, his indigo hues land back on your mask. "To think that the person I've abandoned becomes the one who's the most useful to me..." he mutters, a smirk adorning his lips as he reached out to take the gnosis from you. "I'll take you up on that deal. Now hand it to me."

You hesitated a bit. You weren't sure why Miko would ask you to trade the gnosis for the traveller's life. After all, this small chess piece held overwhelming powers... to trade it for the life of an outlander didn't seem beneficial to you. But you did as told anyways, throwing the gnosis over to him, as Scaramouche swiftly caught it with his hand.

Paimon watched this trade happen with wide eyes, but when she saw you giving the sign to leave, she did as asked. "I've brought two of my people with me. They are standing outside on guard, so be a dear and notify them to help carry the traveller." you tell her and she quickly flew out on your command.

Your turn your back to him to check up on the traveller, wanting to leave this place as soon as possible since you'd rather not spend another second here with him. But he stopped you, before you could take even a single step. "Who said I'd let you leave this place alive? I only traded the traveller's life for this gnosis, not yours." he said and you freeze in your place. A miscalculation, one might say... you didn't expect him to be this aggressive after already getting what he had come for.

You turn back around, glaring at him behind your mask. "What do you want from me this time?" you questioned him. He merely chuckled in response, taking a few steps closer to you. "Not so feisty, 'Tsuki'." he called you by that name mockingly, "Let's make another deal." he suggested, analysing your face for any reaction.

You pursed your lips, your nerves getting to your head but you didn't let it show. With bated breath, you prepared yourself for his next words or actions he might take. If he intended to kill you, you wouldn't go down without a fight.

"How about you come back to me?" he finally says, a hint of a soft tone was audible, layered underneath his usual cold one. It was a question you've longed to hear all those years ago... how long have you been dreaming to go back to him, to have him embrace you and have him tell you he never meant what he had said back then. You were tempted to... but you couldn't. You knew you shouldn't, your heart was squeezing ever so tightly in your chest.

This question came five hundred years too late. And so you knew your answer. "I'd rather die." you lie skillfully, your hands clenching tensely. And this time he bought your lie, his arms dropping to his sides, before he lets out a sigh. "I've figured." he says, before staring at you with cold eyes. "Then take off your mask. Let me see your face one last time and I'll let you off."

Silence surrounded the two of you once more. You didn't want him to see your visage, because you knew that he was able read your expression all too well. But you still have things to do and goals to accomplish before you could die peacefully. So your hand reluctantly reached up to your face, your fingers curling around your wooden texture, before slowly taking it off and revealing your face to him. The familiar face that he once knew and loved.

A face that seemed to have always smiled at him whenever he looked at it. A welcoming expression that always forgave him for anything and everything. Or that's how he had remembered it in his memories. That's what they all were now... mere memories. Because right now, your eyes looked pained and hateful. And these emotions were all directed towards him.

Before any words could be uttered, Paimon flew back inside with two men behind her. They quickly picked up the traveller, before being ushered out by the little fairy. You turn around again, your back facing him and you left him standing in that lonely factory, leaving this place without another word.

Outside that wretched cave, you breathe in the fresh air surrounding you. You had to stay rational, but your heart kept clenching with each step away from him. You wanted to go back oh-so-badly, to jump into his arms and reassure yourself that everything is fine again. That everything is good and that nothing will destroy the relationship you two had. But you knew that this wasn't some fairy tale.

You glanced back at the factory again, gazing at it longingly, before ultimately turning back to complete your task and fulfill your duties. That was when a cryo vision formed right before your eyes, the orb glowing strongly as it descended from the sky and into the palm of your hand. As you found yourself in a crossroad of decisions, this vision drove you to look back one more time at the place where Scaramouche still was. And you decided that you'll continue on your own path, hoping that this won't be the last time you two cross roads...

(extra snippet:)

A sigh escaped his lips, as Scaramouche turned to make his escape as well. He had been bluffing the whole time... He knew all too well that he didn't have it in him to actually lay even a finger on you. It was just like back then, when you two met during his rampage at the Raiden Gokaden. He just couldn't kill you even if he wanted to...

The Harbinger ran his fingers through his indigo locks. He must've been crazy to ask you to come back to him... but it was alright, at least he was able to get something out of this. To see your face one last time before he'll ascend to godhood. Soon he'll become an almighty being and all will be well again. Everything will be alright again and he'll get you back eventually, no matter the cost...

MASTERLIST | INFO

The quartet

Platonic!Arlecchino x Traveller!Reader x Platonic!Lyney, Lynette, Freminet

When Arlecchino left the office, she was greeted by almost absolute silence, only the snoring and quiet snuffling of tired children interrupted her. To be honest, the harbinger liked this sight, since most of the children did not plan to fall asleep after lunch and from this they lay not only in unnatural poses, but also in the most unexpected places.

Foltz, for example, was lying in the dining room with his face buried in the table. Even the older children couldn't resist going to bed in the afternoon. So, her gaze slipped to your quartet lying by the fireplace. With a quick glance, it was difficult to understand where whose legs and arms were, so her eyes stopped a little longer, although she knows perfectly well that an excessively long look can disturb the light sleep of some children.

You lies in the middle, a Freminet lies neatly on the right, he slightly nuzzled your shoulder, while holding his faithful friend Per. Lynette lies a little apart on the left, her tail gently wrapped around your leg, when she herself almost does not touch you. And to top it all off, Lyney... It was as if he wanted to hug everyone at once. He was sleeping in the tiny space between you and Lynette, one of his hands reaching straight for Freminet through your face, the other holding Lynette's hand.

Exhaling softly, Arlecchino goes to the fireplace and calmly extinguishes it. Her gaze goes back to your pile. She notices how you open your sleepy eyes and squint at her for a couple of seconds, after which you turn over on your other side, throwing your leg over the Freminet.

What a tangible difference there is between your first day at the House of the Hearth and this one. In the first days, you were especially careful with her and the other children, but now you have become much more trusting. And trust is an important and indispensable component of any family.

However, she should definitely return to her duties as soon as possible, and not linger here idly. However one from your pile noticed her.

"Father?..."

"I'm going out on business, Lyney. There are no missions for your quartet today. However, it would be nice if you could improve the calligraphy of Y/n, because the last report was given to me was hard to understand."

"Yes, Father."

Lyney answered sleepily, looking at Arlecchino leaving. When the door quietly closed, Lynette's voice was heard.

"Did Father just call us a quartet again?"

your wanderer is so good like what??? you could literally tell me that you worked for hoyoverse and i would be like yeah that makes sense. anyway i was wondering what if wanderer had a girlfriend that was immortal like him? maybe even one that acts a little like him or has the same trauma?

If praises could kill, anon, I wouldn’t be able to answer your ask… I beseech thee, have mercy on me! And yet again I let myself drift away from the theme of the ask... Perhaps???

cw & wc: female reader, implied yandere!Wanderer, 1.7k.

Since he had (and still has, to some extent) lingering issues related to both immortals (namely that one certain woman who spurned her own creation) and mortals alike, I don’t think that Wanderer’s initial attitude would change that much if you’d also happen to be an immortal being. He’d be still as cautious around you, putting little credence in your words and actions; yet given that he’s quite a clever and perceptive little fellow, he’d be quick to sense distrust and unease in you as well (and if you’re devoted to keeping your identity a secret, it wouldn’t take long for him to expose your cover either – don’t forget that over the course of centuries, he accumulated no less amount of specific knowledge than you).

Once your past is revealed to his judgment, you might think that you could be someone he might easily connect with, considering how similar your experiences are. But it’d be a mistake on your part to presume that the former Fatui Harbinger would empathize with you and actively seek your company solely because of this world’s apparent aversion to both of you. His interest would be piqued, no doubt – he will be definitely intrigued by your persona. But that interest alone wouldn’t be sufficient for him to contemplate entering into a romantic relationship with you – you would need to maintain that interest and show him that you have immense potential; that you wouldn’t waste his time and instead would end up being a fine complement to his routine (in that regard you’d not be that different from a human woman, for the quest shall be of equal difficulty). There are some challenges you might face in your immortal & immortal dynamic, and the hardest of them all would concern (surprisingly enough) the aforementioned similarities between the two of you.

Considering that your personality might be as aloof and bitter as his own, neither of you might want to make a first step. It’s a crucial part of establishing any kind of relationship, after all, and since you both would be far from overcoming your pain any time soon, the situation might end in a stalemate. Unfortunately, Wanderer is too arrogant and too troubled to express his interest in you directly – he might come to actually like you once the strength of your character is proven, but his inability to properly communicate with people and interact with them outside of the usual “mutual business” pattern would prevent him from ever courting you. Thus, the task of laying the foundation for your future relationship shall fall on your shoulders – if you won’t come out of your shell and take the initiative, then you’ll never resolve the said stalemate; if you won’t attempt to fight your demons, you’ll get nowhere.

If you were an ordinary human female, you could’ve eventually won him over with your innocence and benignity (because he’s drawn to purity and kindness of human hearts from his very birth, and it’s a weakness he’ll never completely eliminate) – human women are indeed infamously known for their persistence and willpower when it comes to matters of love (at least in his eyes; those Yae Publishing House romantic novels were surely not misleading him in his Kabukimono days, right?). Yet you’re anything but innocent and/or nice – you are a member of a long-life species who suffered hardships incomprehensible to mortals and was subjected to horrors you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy; in a way, you’ve been defiled of the majority of your virtues. You ought to invent another approach: you must appeal to the common origins of your struggles and convince (preferably with actions, not words) him that you could work together as a pair precisely because of your firm understanding of each other’s past and the impact that your mental scars have left on your souls. Birds of a feather flock together, so how about bonding over your shared trauma and healing each other’s wounds? Don’t be too pushy and do try not to appear as a manipulative entity serving her own dubious agenda, for the puppet is not as susceptible to manipulations as he was before, back when his strings were still intact; do remember that “birds of a feather” thing was once his reason for siding with the “bad” guys, so you must choose your words carefully and phrase your arguments flawlessly, acting in accordance with your sincere intentions (you don’t want to be disowned, do you?).

Growing bored of your lover (why would you ever grow bored of such an entertainingly complex man, though?) and/or burning out from your relationship is also a problem you might someday encounter – but this time, it’d apply exclusively to you. You must be ready to embrace the fact that Wanderer (even a fully reformed one!) is a creature who harbors strong emotions and attachments; if anything, this was the cause of all his past incarnations’ downfalls. If you manage to obtain his love, then you must realize that you won’t ever be free to love anyone else but him – perceive this as the unjust contract you signed of your own volition. The concept of eternal devotion, in a rather ironic twist of fate, is not foreign to his cynical self – if he is with you, then you won’t be given a chance to leave him and have another man in your very, very long life simply because he’d aim to be your only man. He would never renounce his ownership over you, so it’s recommended that you weigh all the consequences that come with accepting the once nameless doll as your lover – as a woman who has been through a lot, you must be aware of the drastic temperament of one’s commitment (and you are definitely not that foolish to overestimate the longevity of your feelings and not that naïve to think that you would be able to successfully escape his grasp after silently promising him to stay together for millennia, are you?). A mortal woman could escape it by means of inevitable death, but you… If you dare to betray him (“betray” him in his own interpretation of the term, to be exact), expect him to haunt you forever skin to a vengeful ghost, with all his drawbacks and obsessions reanimated because why, why would you, of all people, abandon him (him, who has finally gotten a name, a new life, and a significant presence in his existence to cherish until this realm burns you two to ashes?).

Speaking of positive aspects of your relationship, you’d predictably avoid a great deal of obstacles that would’ve befallen a mortal lady. There would be plenty of advantages you’d hold over a human woman: for instance, Wanderer would be willing to allow you to travel with him (something that his overprotective and overly paranoid self would’ve never allowed his human lover to do, regardless of her occupation) and participate in combat if necessary (he’d teach you how to fight just in case you lack either a Vision or skills required to protect yourself, but beware: he’d be a very strict teacher) – depending on your type of immortality, he might not be inclined to worry about losing you in a heated battle with either living beings or environmental conditions (and nothing would be as delightful and pleasurable as shredding a pack of vile brutes to bloody pieces together). Due to special properties of your character, you’d also probably never genuinely annoy him or enrage him – all distant and unapproving of indolence (thanks to your resemblance to him in terms of personality traits), you wouldn’t force him to chastise you or mock you, and your antics wouldn’t ever play on his nerves (because you’d obviously never resort to such childish behavior); you’d add a note of harmony to his once discordant life. What flaws Wanderer would’ve loathed in his human lover would be naturally absent in you, and if you’d somehow succumb to any imperfections inherent in human beings, he’d be only slightly frustrated than outright furious (“To think that after centuries of unjust treatment, you would converse with them so nonchalantly,” the indigo-haired youth would huff, visibly uncomfortable at the sight of you talking to human children, and… Wait, did he accuse literal children of having abused you?)

On the other hand, you – as his immortal lover – would only fuel his antipathy towards mortals, whereas the gentle influence of his human lover would’ve changed his prejudiced opinion on humans overall.

It goes without saying that he’d still uphold his cold, sarcastic front and tease you in a rather blunt (read: mean) yet playful fashion whenever he’d get the chance, but hey – why would you, a woman of equally intricate temper, feel anything but appreciation of his peculiar manner of conveying affection? On the contrary, you’d be capable of enjoying his unruly self more so than any woman on this continent.

Yet the most important and unique detail about your relationship would be the intensity of Wanderer’s fear of good old imminent separation – to be precise, that fear would evaporate in a blink. Since you’re an immortal yourself, there would be no point in overthinking certain… things. He’d be more relaxed compared to his usual tense self and a bit more open to the idea of letting you enjoy your life once in a while without him interfering and watching over you like a mother hen; unlike mortal insects who are always at risk of being swayed even by the gentlest gust of wind, you’re competent, capable, and not that fragile to be crushed so easily. You won’t be the source of yet another tragedy, for death won’t claim you – the cruelty of old age or terminal illness shall never bother you, and he won’t be afraid of other causes because he’ll never let anything or anyone land a scratch on you. What he would’ve feared most in his supposed relationship with a mortal female will simply not exist in his relationship with you – you’ll be truly, undisputably his. Dread of abandonment will still be alive deep inside his psyche, however (after all, other men do breathe and walk); just as a fair share of his other, good old (“I am not worthy of something that’s not awful”, for example) insecurities. But that particular fear of being unable to keep his promise of everlasting loyalty won’t be gnawing at his illusionary heart anymore—

Because that hollow heart of his will be finally filled with purpose to beat for.

Love that Beat Vanity

Scaramouche/GN! Reader - Forced Established Marriage

TW: Domestic Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Verbal Abuse

A/N: HELLO! Thank you for reading my goofy little oneshots once again. I've decided to have every Scaramouche fics I write on this acc to have some kind of continuation. So, if you have read my previous works, the reader's lore will be the same throughout this series. But you don't have to read the previous works to catch up with the story since I wrote it as oneshots, scenarios and whatnot.

If you choose not to read the previous works, Reader was an orphan who survived stealing from people but stole from the wrong person one time and was taken and placed in a human trafficking ring, Scaramouche bought her to work at for the Fatui and the rest is history.

-----

It has been 5 years since Scaramouche has taken you as his spouse. You have still not adapted well into this new "domestic" life that was forced onto you by your husband. The lessons you have to keep taking because you can't make yourself to remember it all, has started to take a toll on your body.

Sleep has been difficult to achieved, it might be near impossible as your husband demands for the two of you to sleep together in the same bed, as husband and spouse. But try as you might to close your eyes, the moment you feel his arms snake around your waist, you freeze up like a statue and not sleep until you pass out from exhaustion. However, when you wake up from fainting, you'll feel the blanket placed properly on top of you, the bed side where your husband would always lay on, cold.

You have no doubt that Scaramouche loves you, too much in fact.

Early in the morning, he would leave you in bed and attend to his harbinger duties. Not a single item of his was ever misplaced whenever he fixes himself up. His sakura blossom perfume would always be placed in it proper spot and his brush to add the rouge over his eyelids were clean from any color, as if it was never even used.

Tidiness can't be said the same to your vanity table. Although you rarely use the furniture as it was intended, you do use it as something to leave the fabrics that you have meticulously stitched from the lessons that Scaramouche forced on you. They were ugly, so you have no idea why your husband lets you leave them in the open.

Your 'lovely' Scaramouche once commented on how your needlework was "god awful that even a child can do better". You might not have expressed it physically, but it hurt to hear him say that. Blood was spilled when you were creating your first fabric But you learned the truth later on that the first finished fabric you have created was hidden in the drawer of his office.

It makes your heart confused on why he has to resort to harsh tactics to get a semblance of your "love". Why can't your husband act like a normal person?

Mornings has been something you have been waiting for every single day for the past 5 years. For the whole morning, you have the manor all to yourself. A place for you to be alone with your thoughts. But when the hour hand reaches 12 PM, your teacher for that day will be coming to teach you another useless skill that you will never remember.

The Tsaritsas and the Harbingers obsession

note -> These HCs are based off of the Pulcinella grandchild AU by @hunnieknight ! (I didnt include Signora cause she is 💀)

paring -> Yandere! Tsaritsa X gn! reader, Yandere! fem! harbingers X gn! reader

warnings -> yandere themed, blood, kidnapping.

content includes -> yandere! characters, obsessive! characters

The Tsaritsa

The first time the Tsaritsas had met you, she knew she was obsessed with you, she found you absolutely adorable

At first her obsession was only platonic, she adored you like a mother would adore a child, but as you grew and reached adulthood, so did her obsession

The Tsaritsas would often tell your grandfather to leave you with her, and while he didnt want to at first he eventually agreed

She would often spend time with you in her garden, the only place where the flowers bloomed, she made sure you knew that your only home is where she is, that that is where you belong, with her

The Tsaritsas wants you to be hers and only hers, but she doesnt mind sharing you with a few of her harbingers

Arlecchino

Arlecchino never had a good relationship with your grandfather, that was one of the reasons why she was suprised that you were his grandchild

Her obsession began when she met you during one of the meetings when your grandfather brought you with him, she knew she had to have you

While she knew that the Tsaritsa already had a unspoken claim on you, that didnt mean she could only have you to herself

Arlecchino would often bring you to the House of the Hearth, and while she May "love" you, she is no afraid of punishing you until you behave

Arlecchino agreed to share you with the Tsaritsa and the other harbingers, tasked to make sure you never escape their grasp

Columbina

Columbinas obsession started the first time she saw you, she found you absolutely adorable and she wants to make you hers

She knew the Tsaritsa and the others already had an obsession with you too, so all of them agreed to share you, which she was pleased with

Columbina would often sing to you to calm you down, especially after every punishment you were given for trying to escape your lovers

She, alongside Sandrone, would dress you in cute outfits and show you off as their precious doll

Columbina would make sure your grandfather doesnt mingle in your affairs, you now belong to the Tsaritsa and the other harbingers

Sandrone

Sandrone is not sure when her obsession started, but she knows she will make you hers, she doesnt care about the Tsaritsas claim on you, you are her perfect doll

She would dress you up and make you into the perfect doll for her and the others, she will make sure you are an obedient little doll just for them~

Sandrone often has one of her robots with you for protection, and to make sure you never escape them

She is the harshest when it comes to punishing you, thats why you always make sure you are obedient for her, because you know she will hurt you

Your poor grandfather has to deal with the fact that he will never see his precious grandchild again, but they could care less about him

INSULT TO INJURY — Platonic Arlecchino & reader

i. SUMMARY: What is Arlecchino to do, when her child comes home injured? ii. CWS & NOTES: Injuries, mild descriptions of blood, mentions of violence, nothing particularly graphic. PLATONIC arlecchino & gn!reader. house of the hearth!reader. hurt/comfort. they/them pronouns used. 0.9k words. iii. A/N: HI THIS WAS FINISHED IN MY DRAFTS AND I DID NOT NOTICE... this was a suggestion from @romaritimeharbor!!

Arlecchino was by no means a traditional parent, but she did share common qualities with those who were. She kissed her children’s hair when they were sick, wiping the sweat off their forehead and tucking their sheets extra tight. When they sought comfort, she would hold them close to her chest, even if her affection was rare and only offered away from all other eyes. They appeared in her thoughts constantly, even in the most mundane situations; occasionally she would find herself wondering if Lynette would enjoy a particular brand of tea, or if Freminet’s diving skills had improved in the past months.

Those outside of the House of the Hearth could never imagine a soft side to a cutthroat woman like Arlecchino, not after witnessing her ruthless ways. All they saw was the terrifying Harbinger that cut through hoards with her scythe, taking down each and every one who stands in the way of the Fatui. They would be mistaken to dismiss her as soft-hearted, but even more so to proclaim her heartless. It is simply that her heart beats for the Hearth, and nothing more. 

When she settled into the role of Father, she vowed that even if the Fatui wouldn’t treat her children with love, she would. However strict she appeared, her love for the House of the Hearth was poured through every drop of blood shed in the name of the security of the Fatui. The Fatui were the foundation holding up the orphanage, and so long as it remained strong, so would their home. 

It was one of her most notable traits, and one that many parents held; she would do anything to protect her children. 

So when [Name] turned up at her office, bruises peeking out between the rips in their shirt and bright splatters of blood dotting their arms, she didn’t scold them for walking in without knocking. She stood, moving mechanically over to where they lingered in the doorway. She swept her gaze down their body, taking note of each and every injury. And as they looked up at her, eyes glazed over with unshed tears, she brushed her hand across their face to rid the hair sticking to the blood across their forehead and hissed, “Who did this to you?”

“I–” Whatever rasping words were almost spoken broke off in a fit of coughing. A low cry of pain spilled out, and their hand clutched their side. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

Arlecchino looked out through the hallway, spotting a child half-hidden behind the corner, unsubtly trying to spy on the situation. They squeaked, as she caught their eye and barked out an order. “You! Go to the medical wing and bring back a first aid kit, and several ice-packs. Now.”

They scurried off, the sound of tiny footsteps growing quieter every second. Once they were inaudible, she looked back at her other child, whose eyes were drifting shut slowly. A quick touch on their shoulder sent them flinching backwards, eyes flying open. 

“What happened?” She asked, ignoring the way they shrunk into themself at the question.

“I failed. I was ambushed, and they–” They shuddered, once again gripping their side. Arlecchino took note of the way they winced each time they moved too sharply; bruised ribs, if not broken. “I’m sorry, I just came to report on what happened.”

“You’re injured, [Name].” Arlecchino stressed.

“I know,” They said quietly. They didn’t even seem to have enough energy to fight the tears that have begun dripping down their cheeks. “It won’t happen again. I’ll be better.”

I don’t want you to be better, her mind screamed. I want you to be okay. Arlecchino bit her tongue hard to stop the words from pouring out. It would be unbecoming of the Director to show such earnestness in front of one of her children, especially one who had clearly suffered a failure. She may love them, as she does all of her orphans, but she was raised in the Fatui as well. She knew the cost of failure all too well.

“You will be.” Arlecchino stood back, letting them lean against the door frame again to stop themself falling over. “I’m sure you understand that there will be consequences to this.”

“I do.” 

“Excellent. You will be dismissed from all missions for the next six weeks.” Six weeks, that was just long enough for injured ribs to heal, if she recalled correctly. “You will be required to remain in the House for that time, and any outings must be approved by me before you leave.”

They stared at her, eyes wide.

“Am I understood?”

“Yes, Father.” They said quickly.

She didn’t ask any more of the person who had left them in such a state, but they did cross her mind as she wrapped bandages around their arms. She could almost see them now, celebrating their victory over the Fatui. How proud they must be, to have sent one of the Knave’s own agents fleeing. 

A barely noticeable grimace tore her attention away, and she forced her hands to loosen the bandages around their arm. In her quiet fury, she had begun to wrap them tighter than a tourniquet, much to their discomfort. 

For that moment, she dismissed the assailant to the back of her mind, and turned all of her attention to her child.

They would come later, and then, they would learn the true meaning of fear. 

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

would you like a new home? (pt. 3.3)

forethoughts: y'all i'm on such an arlecchino down-badness syndrome i'm writing so much and releasing so much. i think after this i'm going to write more short stories w/ father and reader, so it's gonna be like a cumulative story of reader as their adventures as father's child. (spoilers oops)

notes: gn!child!reader, NOT AN X READER READER IS A CHILD!!!

You were still awake when the door creaked open, and Father’s heels clicked against the ground. Father tried to place the tray of food gently on the table, but you could still hear the porcelain hit the wood.

“Are you going to continue to pretend to sleep, or come and eat?” Father had a playful tone to her voice.

Of course Father knew you weren’t asleep.

Father made her way towards you, placing a hand on your head as she ran her fingers through the knots in your hair. “How are you, my dear?”

You sat up, rubbing your eyes. Your head was still pounding from the orphan’s foot, making it uncomfortable to sleep on that side. “I’m okay.”

“Good. Good.” Father looked at your sleepy expression, a soft smile on her face as she petted your head. “Do you know that I would do anything for you, my dear? I treasure you dearly and hold you near my heart.” 

“Y-Yes, Father. I-I do too…”

“Do you?” Father chuckled. “I am very happy to hear that. Especially from you.”

Father kissed the top of your head, before standing up, heading towards the door. “Eat up, my dear. When you finish your plate of food, please come find me in my office. I will be waiting for you.”

Father closed the door behind her, leaving the lights on. Letting out a sigh, you crawled out of bed, hobbling over to the table as you climbed onto the chair, examining the tray of food. Next to the plate of Jueyun Chili Parcels was an envelope with Father’s seal on it. You took the small letter opener Father had gifted you, and carefully opened the envelope. Inside was a piece of paper, filled with a sea of ink. You would rather read the cookbook than this. 

“Adoption… guardian… Arlecchino… Y/N… child…” You picked out words you knew, filling in the blanks with your best guess. The word adoption rang in your head. Adoption? No one ever got adopted ever from the House of Hearth. Father said that this was the place orphans from all over would grow up in and graduate from. Arlecchino… that was Father’s name. You recall overhearing some of the caretakers calling Father Arlecchino. 

Father… plans on adopting me? The thought struck your head, causing the paper to fall out of your hands. You immediately picked it up, eyes scanning the ink. That was literally what the paper saids. On the bottom were two straight lines adjacent to each other. One had Father’s signature on it, while the others was empty. Father… Father truly planned on adopting you. This was actually happening. You searched the envelope, looking for anything else. A note. A small folded piece of paper.

My dear Y/N,

Perhaps this will be the happy ending for the both of us. So would you like a new home, my dear?

Father.

Father. 

Father genuinely planned to adopt you.

Father wanted you to become her actual child.

Was that why Father was always kinder to you?

Was this why Father was always much more lenient and biased to you? 

It was because Father wanted you to be her child?

Her actual child?

You took a deep breath, picking up the first piece of paper instead. Pure adrenaline rushed through your body, thoughts racing through your head as your heart desperately tried to claw out of your ribs. This was happening. Serotonin and joy was the only emotion you could feel; not an ounce of worry or fear in your heart. Why weren’t you scared? Why weren’t you worried? 

Because Father.

Father was the one asking you.

Father was asking you to be her child.

Father was giving you the one thing you craved ever since you gained the ability to comprehend.

A family.

A relationship.

Someone who truly loved you.

A parent.

So how could you ever say no?

A new home.

A new life.

No more loneliness.

No more fear or worry.

No more doubt or anxiety.

A new home. 

With Father.

Arlecchino reclined back in her chair, playing with the pen in her hand. Out of anything she had ever experienced or done in her life, this was the one moment she felt genuine worry about. She could not plan this out. She could not make failsafes or backup plans. This was a reckless action. But the action she desperately wanted to take.

Arlecchino had saw a part of herself in you; that was what drawed you in to her. She saw that kid who never got along with anyone else, that was always lost in their little world. She wanted to give you the support she never had growing up. So she gave you the little perks she never had. She gave you all she wanted when she was your age. 

It was unfortunate she could not find a companion for you.

But everything always works out in the end.

Life always finds a way to piece everything together.

Arlecchino was brought back to reality when she saw one of the doorknobs twist open, your adorable figure entering the room as you hobbled towards her. The letter she had purposefully placed on the tray was in your hands, cut open and the adoption paper on top of the envelope. You climbed onto the chair on the other side of her desk, placing the adoption paper on her desk. 

Arlecchino watched you with a stoic expression, unable to resist a grin as she saw your cute child face look down and fiddle with the hem of your sleeve in nervousness.

“Well?” Arlecchino cleared her throat. “What do you think about my offer?”

“...Yes.” You smiled brightly, nodding your head. “I w-want to be your actual child.”

The corners of Arlecchino’s lips shot up to her eyes. “Come here.”

Arlecchino didn’t even mind you stepping on her desk to leap into your arms, as she wrapped her arms around your back and head tightly, hugging you close to her chest. The warmth in her heart only grew when you reciprocated the hug back, your tiny arms clutched onto the sides of her ribs.

Arlecchino let out a content sigh, a smile on her face. Now she could say the one phrase that held meaning to it. No more teasing. No more playfulness. 

“My child.”

How They Mark You as Theirs

Yandere x Fem! Reader

A/N: because I genuinely can't stop thinking about Scaramouche putting his makeup on you! It's been keeping me up at night.

Diluc: With jewelry

You sparkle when you walk into a room. Not just your glowing eyes or large, puffy dresses, but also what adornes your body. A pendant around your neck, large gem rings on your fingers, and earrings, more expensive than most could afford. People wondered if maybe all of your gems and stones were too heavy, maybe that's why despite the fact that you looked so lavish, you never smiled.

Dilcuc would be at your side, slipping another ring onto your finger. The other ladies would fawn at the sight, silently wishing for a man who wanted to adorn them with silver and gold, but to you, every ring, every stone, every bracelet, and every gem was another lock on the chain harboring you to him, claiming you as his.

Childe: With Bruises

Your neck is littered with love bites, your thighs covered in scratches from where his nails would dig into them, your wrist would have markings around them, from where he would hold you down, pressing passionate kisses and maybe more if he desired.

Even though you were embarrassed by the blatant proof of what he'd done to you all over your body, he still made sure you wore rather revealing clothing. You'd flush with embarrassed, knowing eyes looking all over you, but Childe would smile happily. A hand around your waist would caress you, making it known that he wished to claim you more.

Scaramouche: With make-up

How did everyone know that you were married to number six of the Fatui harbingers? Well, they had to look no further than your eyes, framed in that familiar red shade. The first time he makes you wear it, it's because you watched as he did his own. His nimble fingers held the brush like it was second nature, creating the lines against his eye with ease.

“Come here,” he'll order while still standing in front of the mirror. Before you can ask what he needs from you, he's already squeezing your cheeks between those same fingers, holding your face in place.

The brush tickles as it slides across your eyelids, making you shake a bit in his grasp as you hold back laughter. The smile on your face making his demeanor melt for just a moment, he softens and stops his work, just staring at your features, “I know how it feels. Stop moving,” he'll order. And you do your best to obey.

The sight of your smile is more than enough to make this a habit, instead of a one off thing. Everyday after your kimono dressing, he calls you to him, holding the brush stained with that familiar red makeup.

BLEED. — in which the Knave attends to her wounded little sibling.

— trigger & content warnings. depictions of injuries & blood, descriptions of violence, implied murder. 1.4k words.

— pairings & notes. hurt/comfort. arlecchino & younger sibling!reader. reader is a member of the fatui. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns). arlecchino is referred to using her real name.

— author's notes. arle <3

       "Oh, you— you came."

       Their surprise was evident, written all over their features as they stared up at the Harbinger. The eerie, echoing click of her heels cut through the silence that, upon her entry, had befallen the Fatui's medics. The microexpressions on her face—brows furrowed inwards, gaze focused on nothing else but them, and lips pointed vaguely downwards—promised a fate far worse than death for anyone who dared to interrupt her.

       Arlecchino was a calm, even-tempered woman...

       ...That is, she was a calm and even-tempered woman when her beloved little sibling was both safe and well. However, the blood soaking through the bandages wrapped around the lower half of their torso made it clear that they were not well. Safe, yes, but well? That, they most certainly were not.

       Her tall stance cast a shadow over their body. Perhaps if they were anyone else, they would currently be fearing for their life... but as they gazed up at her with a meek smile, it occured to them that they were definitely concerned (though undoubtedly in a far more lighthearted way than any other person would be).

       "You look so scary like this," they giggled timidly, snapping their gaze away and looking anywhere but at her. Subconsciously, their fingers fidgeted with the blanket draped over their legs. "Don't be mad... I messed up a bit. You know. Things— things happen..."

       Arlecchino sighed, cutting them off: "Are you wounded anywhere else, [Name]?"

       "No. Just there."

       "I see," she muttered thoughtfully, rolling up her sleeves. The inky darkness of her curse pulsed and spread, crawling further up her arms than it usually did—they couldn't help but frown slightly. Nonetheless, they said nothing of it. She would surely brush them off and tell them to worry more about themselves if they did.

       Arlecchino turned to the nervous agents in the room; the second they did, everyone immediately tried to appear busy, whipping their bodies away from the direction of the Knave and her baby sibling with such speed that it surely gave a few of them whiplash. "You all are dismissed."

       'Get out. Now.'

       With polite acknowledgments to her unspoken command, heads bowing to the Fourth, the Fatui's medics were quick to leave, urgency evident in their speedy steps. Anything they had been working on was long forgotten and left behind; certainly, the soldiers were unconcerned with their work. If anything, the only thing they were concerned with was getting away from Arlecchino. It wasn't very difficult to understand why.

       No agent wanted to so much as imagine what might happen if they were to somehow invoke her fury, especially now of all times.

       Once the final agent had left, and the heavy double doors shut—shockingly without any echo; perhaps the medics were afraid that even closing the door forcibly enough would agitate the Harbinger—their eyes shifted upwards.

       "Peruere..." they murmured softly, straightening their spine somewhat and removing the blanket from their legs so that they could gingerly swing them over the side of the bed. They wished not to agitate their wound further—it still throbbed and ached, so they knew that one incorrect move would render them doubled over in pain. Their elder sister took notice of their enhanced caution.

       "Did they give you any medication yet?" Arlecchino—Peruere, rather, inquired. She turned away from them briefly, speedily shuffling through the medical supplies on a nearby table. Scissors, gauze, antibacterial ointment...

       "They tried, but nothing worked... well enough, that is. My fever has gone down since I arrived and it hurts slightly less, but it just hurts far too much for any of their weaker painkillers to be effective. This base isn't well-equipped to handle wounds like this."

       Even breathing was a chore, really; each time their chest rose and fell, painful sparks clawed through their skin, originating at the gash in their side.

       "Hm." Her face twisted and soured somewhat. "...I suppose I have no choice but to speak to the Doctor once we return to the Motherland, then."

       Peruere then began thoroughly scrubbing her hands with special attention to the underside of her nails in one of the medical sinks, as to ensure that she did not cause any kind of infection to fester in their wound.

       Their breath hitched, and they immediately went on to frantically ask, "Aren't you busy? You don't have to come with me. I can return by myself, it really isn't a big deal... even if that means talking to him—"

       "No." Her eyes shifted to their direction (and for a moment, she couldn't help but think that they looked a little bit like a kicked puppy—dejected and pouty, as if they had somehow upset her). The Knave's tone softened slightly. "No. I do not trust the Doctor around you, nor do I trust these agents to ensure your safety. You are injured. I am the only one who can ensure no harm will befall you."

       "I can defend myself," they asserted. "I'm your sibling, you know."

       "I have no doubt that you can," she softly assured, drying her hands with a clean towel. "However, at the moment, you are in no condition to fight."

       With that, she collected the necessary items and walked back towards their bed. Setting all but the scissors aside, she kneeled down, and began cutting away at the gauze.

       "Did they clean your wound?"

       "Yes."

       She hummed in ackowledgement.

       Peruere's gaze softened somewhat at the sight of their wound—still wet with blood, the perimeter of the wound lined in matte crimson. She observed the way their stomach heaved with each breath.

       Scorching flames burned in her veins. Had she not known any better, she would resolve to deliver a fate far worse than death to whoever did this, to personally escort them straight to the lowest circle of hell and splatter their guts across the floor.

       (She awaited and anticipated the day that the Doctor somehow, in some way, brought harm to her sibling. Should that day ever arrive, she would finally have a reason, an excuse, to reunite him and the previous Knave.

       Peruere was patient. She could wait.)

       ...She did know better, however, and her sibling was just about as much of a force as she was.

       Whoever did this was certainly already well-acquainted with the devil.

       After squeezing some of the antibacterial ointment onto her fingertips, she gingerly spread it across the area of their wound.

       They grimaced somewhat, body instinctively snapping away from her hands. Peruere's freehand shot out to grab their hip with enough pressure to keep them in place but not enough to hurt them any further.

       "Shh. Be still."

       "But it stings," they whined, shooting her an accusatory glance; there was a glimmer of mischief in their glazed eyes, however, and she immediately understood that whatever they were going to accuse her of was unserious in its nature. "You're making it hurt on purpose."

       At that, the Harbinger rolled her eyes. It was clear that there was no true agitation behind the gesture.

       "No, it doesn't, and no, I assure you that I am not," she replied calmly, continuing to spread the ointment to ensure that every part of the injury was adequately lathered. "I put nothing on it that would make it hurt. Don't be dramatic."

       "Ahh... you're so mean, Per..." they sighed dramatically. "So terribly mean to your beloved, wounded baby sibling~"

       She chose not to feed into their mischief. Instead, she began winding the gauze around their body. Once she felt that it was properly wrapped—covered with enough layers to keep dirt and debris out of their flesh and blood—she pulled. "Is this too tight?"

       A soft hum rose from their throat as they inhaled as to ensure that it really wasn't too tight, even when they breathed deeply. "No. The pressure helps with the pain, actually."

       The Harbinger nodded, securing the end of the gauze. She then rose—though not fully, and rather bent at the waist somewhat to meet them at eye-level. The hand that was void of any residue from the cream softly carressed their face.

       Her pupils bore into theirs, thumb rubbing back and forth across their cheekbone. She was mindful as to avoid scratching them with her nail. Though she often told others not to gaze into her eyes for too long—'What you see may not be very pleasant,' she would say—they seemed to be an exception.

       In her eyes, as most do, they saw destruction, death, and madness. In them, it did not induce fear. It made them feel safe.

       And perhaps that made them no less mad then their elder sister was.

       That fate, however, was one that they were content with.

       The Knave withdrew, though not before placing a tender kiss on the crown of their head.

       "Rest now. We will depart for Snezhnaya when you awaken again."

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