Scaramouche:

Title: Rotting Divinity.

Pairing: Yandere!Scaramouche x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 2.9k.

TW: Reader Is Referred To As A Shrine Maiden But Gender Neutral, Set A Few Years After Dottore Starts Experimenting On Scaramouche, Unhealthy Relationships, Obsessive Behavior, Kidnapping, Themes of Chronic Illness, and Mentions of Human Experimentation.

Scaramouche opened his eyes as the sun set, casting the sky a dull pinkish blue. You were standing above him, a straw basket on your hip and a frown tugging on the corners of your lips.

He let a groan as he hauled himself into a more dignified position, palms planted in the raw dirt and dried grass caught in his hair. One glance was spared to establish that he was no longer in the Doctor’s cramped observation room, all cold stone walls and porcelain tables with leather straps stapled into each corner, before his attention settled on you. “Mortal,” he barked, speaking loudly enough to hear himself over the pain still buzzing in his skull. “Which island is this?”

“Yashiori, near Serpent’s Head,” you muttered, disappointment heavy in your tone. When he clicked his tongue, you went on, your frown deepening. “You ruined my herb garden.”

Had he? He couldn’t remember anything after the Doctor worked those long, tapered needles underneath the skin of his forearms; after an iron mask was forced over his mouth and nose and he began to think his body may tear itself apart before that sadist had the chance to. He wasn’t supposed to be in Serpent’s Head. He wasn’t supposed to be on Yashiro at all. He hadn’t meant to be here, and yet, he’d be thrown in a cage of iron bars and subjected to another round of testing as soon as he trudged back to that dungeon of a facility. Thinking about the feeling of thick, pulsing electricity coursing through his hollow limbs was enough to send a familiar bolt of agony down the length of his spine. It was little more than a phantom, a shadow of the torture it would take to unlock his truepotential, but it was enough to leave him curling into himself involuntarily, glaring at the soil with a hollow type of malice.

He would’ve recovered in a second – less than a second, a moment, a breath – if you hadn’t fallen to your knees at his side, cooing as you pressed the back of your hand into his forehead. “Are you hurt?” If he’d tried to answer, his response would’ve been lost to your fussing, the way you hummed and shook your head as you hauled him to his feet. “Body aches? Migraines? Whatever it is—” An arm was drawn over your shoulders, his weight forcibly rested on you. “—I’m sure I have something for it inside. A place for you to rest, too – however you got here, the journey had to be burdensome.”

He considered protesting. Even in the state he’d been reduced to, it would’ve taken nothing to pry himself away from you, to shatter your ankles underneath his heel and leave you begging for the mercy of the creature you’d tried to pity. He could’ve penned a letter to the Doctor as you bled out in the soil of your own garden, recovered his strength as he took your body apart and fed your remains, piece by piece, to whatever scavengers would have you. He could’ve, if he’d wanted to. He could’ve, but then, he saw what you were wearing.

The sleeves of your kosode were rolled neatly to the elbow, the hems of your pleaded hakama dusted with dirt and grass stains. Unlike the maidens of Watatsumi and the Grand Narukami Shrine, you wore neither red nor blue, but white. Pure, never-ending white.

Scaramouche went limp in your hold, his eyes falling shut as you let out a surprised laugh, doing your best to accommodate his now-dead weight. He could kill you tomorrow, he figured. It was already dusk, and while he didn’t mind traveling at night, he knew the Doctor wouldn’t begin to wonder where he was until the sun rose tomorrow morning. He wasn’t a dog, eager to crawl home and prove his obedience. He could wait until he was called for.

At least, by then, your worrying might’ve done something to dull the burn of the electricity underneath his skin.

~

“So, you’re telling me that this is a waste of time.”

You ignored him with a light hum, a quick movement of your tasseled gohei. Normally, daily rites were something to be performed quickly and efficiently before the unlucky shrine maiden responsible for carrying them out returned to scrubbing floorboards and disturbing fortunes, but in a life as slow as yours, with so little to occupy the many hours of your countless days, even repetitive tasks such as this were given an unnecessarily artistic flourish. Scaramouche might’ve called it indulgent, if he ever decided to be so kind to you.

Currently, you were dancing in front of a dilapidated shrine at the base of the snake’s skull; the paint mostly chipped away and the wood close to rotting. You’d explained, four days after he first allowed you to haul him into your ancient cabin, that you would be responsible for rebuilding it once it inevitably collapsed, an honor only bestowed upon caretakers every few centuries, and he’d told you that you ought to save yourself a few decades and tear it down that day, but you’d only laughed. Most things he said made you laugh.

He'd noticed early on that you were of a weak constitution. Dark bags circled under your eyes despite how often and how deeply you slept, and you seemed unable to carry anything heavier than what could fit in one of your woven baskets. There should’ve been another shrine keeper, if not several. And, if there could only be one, then it shouldn’t have been you.

Still, Scaramouche was glad that you had been chosen, even if you were a bad fit for the position. If it’d been anyone else, he would’ve had to get rid of them days ago, and he was thankful to be spared the effort.

“It’s not,” you said, consciously clipping his choice of words. You finished your rite with a deep bow, then turned to Scaramouche. “Shows of dedication make him happy.”

“He being…” His gaze drifted upward, to the fanged skull. Orobashi no Mikoto – the beast’s name provided by some nameless well of knowledge that seemed to linger in the space between the back of his throat and the pit of his chest. Consciously, the only title Scaramouche had ever thought to put to the serpent was that of ‘festering remains’. “…the fucking corpse?”

“If you keep using that kind of language, you might have to start sleeping outside.” You took up the basket of lavender melons you’d (admittedly, unwisely) left in his care, snatching it away before he could add to the small pile of black seeds stacked on his opposite side. Your hastiness left one of the rounder melons toppling over the well-worn edge, though, and he caught it with a single hand, grinning as he dug his teeth into the ripe flesh and claimed it for himself. You rolled your eyes, but quickly occupied yourself with clearing away yesterday’s fruit from the shrine. “It’s not complicated. We keep him happy, hold our rites and make our sacrifices, and he ensures that my crops grow quickly and the village prospers.” A pause, a smile thrown carelessly over your shoulder. You smiled as easily as you laughed, something that irritated Scaramouche to no end. “If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be recovering half as quickly as you are.”

Right. It was too easy to forget that there was a pretense to his time with you; that he was supposed to be some wayward, ailing traveler with a mysterious condition your charms and cures could only keep at bay. He wasn’t lying to you. All he did was lie back and let you fuss over his nonexistent pulse, the bloodless pallor of his skin, the way his temperature never seemed to rise above that of damp clay. He wasn’t like the Doctor – scheming and underhanded, prone to leading his victims in circles before gifting them with the mercy of a slow death – or the priestess he could only vaguely remember from his first days, all dark eyes and whispers of a merciful death. You liked doting on him, and he didn’t mind keeping his mouth shut.

“Don’t give yourself too much credit.” He dug his teeth into the lavender melon as you gathered your things, sugary juice turning his lips tacky as he went on. “I’ve always been hard to kill.”

You came to stand above him, your smile small and eyes vaguely narrowed. “If you’re feeling that strong,” you started, holding your now-emptied basket in front of you. “Then you shouldn’t mind weeding the garden and fetching water, this afternoon.”

It only took him a moment to think to protest, but you were already gone, stumbling down the mountainside as he hastily pushed himself to his feet. He called your name, but he could already hear your voice – rising above his in one of your obnoxiously repetitive hymns and drowning him out as he chased after you.

~

The villagers welcomed you as sheep welcomed field dogs; from a distance.

Scaramouche trailed behind you as you plodded through the humble village, humming and clutching your basket close to your chest, fiddling nervously with the pure-white material of your sleeves. The crowd parted around you, twin walls of watchful eyes and hushed voices forming well-ahead of your path and collapsing as you strode past them, either unable or unwilling to acknowledge the thick silence that seemed to hang over you like a shroud. Occasionally, you’d stop at a stall or a doorway, handing off bundles of wrapped herbs to gloved and trembling hands, and less often, you’d send him a smile over your shoulder, your tired eyes wrinkling at the corners, as if apologizing that he had to come along for such a dull errand. That was how you described it, when he asked where you went off to every few days. ‘Just a quick errand,’ you’d said, as you tried to convince him to stay behind yet again. When he cited your poor health and his growing concern that he’d find you dead in that garden of yours one day, you didn’t waver. ‘You’ll only be bored if you come. The villagers aren’t very friendly.’

Scaramouche decided, mostly on a whim, that he would burn down this village before he returned to the Doctor. If he had time.

He moved to rush forward, to place himself at your side, but a hand shot out of a narrow alleyway and caught him by the wrist. It was a middle-aged blacksmith, judging by the ash smeared across his cheeks, the thick apron hanging from his neck. Scaramouche was quick to pull out of his filthy grasp, but he spoke regardless, his voice low and rough. “Mind your distance, boy.” A glance towards you, a deep sneer. “Don’t you know who that is?”

Scaramouche glanced over him, fighting the urge to scoff. “Why is no one speaking to the healer?”

“That’s no healer, that’s the shrine maiden.” He said it as if he’d caught Scaramouche attempting to throw himself into a rifthound’s mouth. “They cultivate the serpent’s remains. You’ll be dead in a week if you—”

This time, Scaramouche was the one to reach out, his hand wrapping around the blacksmith’s neck. By instinct, a bolt of pure, searing electro shot from his palm into the man’s neck, leaving him limp and convulsing in Scaramouche’s hold. Scaramouche released him as the last of the aftershocks faded, watching him collapse to the ground before planting his heel on the man’s diaphragm, prepared to shift his weight and crush whatever laid below his foot should the blacksmith say something to displease him.

“I’ll ask again,” he said, slowly, ozone thick in the air. “Why is no one speaking to the healer?”

~

Scaramouche returned to your cabin closer to sunrise than sunset. Somewhere, back in the village that he would see reduced to embers if it was his last act on the face of Teyvat, the charred remains of a blacksmith smoldered at the bottom of a stone well, and he opened the door to your ramshackle home with enough force to tear the rotted piece of wood from its hinges.

You were kneeling beside your work table, grinding dried lavender petals into a fine powder. He closed the space between you in a breath, knocked the pestle from your hand in another, then collapsed beside you. “You’re going to die?”

You eyed the spilled lavender wearily. “Even the archons will fall, eventually.”

He let out a ragged sob, burying his face in the dip of your shoulder. You allowed him to, your arms coming up to wrap loosely around him. You’d always been weak, but now, you seemed as feeble as a morning gale.

He was unable to speak, so you took up the mantle, tracing idle patterns into the base of his spine as you went on. “I know what they tell newcomers, about dead gods and their rot, but it’s not as bad as it sounds. He gifts us with herbs to cure our sick and soothe our elders and in return, someone sacrifices a few years. The villagers might not be able to linger, but they make sure I’m taken care of.” He felt you smile, heard you laugh. “So long as I get to help people, I don’t mind making sacrifices.”

“Other people don’t matter.” It took him longer than he cared to admit to pry himself away from you, to straighten his back and drag a deep breath into his aching lungs. He was thankful, not for the first time, that he couldn’t cry. You would only think him irrational if he fell apart so visibly. “How long do you have?”

Your head lulled to the side, your attention drifting to some indistinguishable point on the far wall. “Only the gods can say what fate has—”

“How long?”

“…another year.” Your tone carried a sort of detached acceptance, as if you couldn’t summon the energy to care. “Maybe two. The last caretaker was very fortunate – he survived half a decade in his position.”

He tried to speak, to scream at you for not telling him sooner, but his voice caught in his throat and you reached up, cupping his face in both hands. Slowly, with a dry chuckle, you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. The cool porcelain of his skin sapped the warmth from yours, but for once, you didn’t seem to mind his unusual anatomy. “I hope I’ll be able to cure you, before I’m gone.” You were mumbling, now, speaking barely above your breath. “Do you think you’ll be able to stay for a little longer?”

He tried to answer, but you’d fallen asleep on top of him by the time he opened his mouth.

~

He left the next morning, while you were still tucked underneath a small pile of furs and quilts. A letter was penned and sent to the Doctor’s base, a caddy of wildflower seeds purchased from a young girl peddling wares by the side of the road, and he returned to your cabin just as your sleep turned restless. When you rose an hour past noon, he pestered you into taking him to the groove near the shoreline. By the time you returned, chiding him for distracting you from your responsibilities and pointedly ignoring the basket full of fruit at your hip, the sun was low in the sky and masked soldiers had stamped your garden into the ground. Your cabin was in flames and your shrine had been reduced to little more than a pillar of smoke in the distance.

Whatever concern you might’ve held for him was immediately forgotten. Dropping your basket, you moved to run towards the embers of your home, but Scaramouche caught you – one hand on your shoulder, another on your waist. Careful not to break what couldn’t be repaired, he forced you onto your knees, letting you scratch at his wrists as you screamed, the noise anguished and ragged. Masked soldiers gathered in the outskirts of his vision, but he bared his teeth, keeping them at a distance as you thrashed in his steadfast hold. Once he took you somewhere else, somewhere better, you’d be able to calm down.

Once he got you away from your rotting god and your unthankful village, you’d be able to worship something worth your time.

A moment passed, then another. Finally, the Doctor emerged from the crowd, his white coat unmarred by the ash in the air. He regarded you with a grin, then looked to Scaramouche. “This is the filthy toy you’d like to take home?”

It was a foolish question, undeserving of an answer. Scaramouche countered with one of his own. “Can you fix them?”

“Can I save a human being who’s been brought to the brink of death and infected thoroughly with the rot of divine remains?” The Doctor hummed, clicked his tongue. “That depends, little puppet. How much time are you willing to spend on my vivisection table?”

Scaramouche glowered, but he didn’t protest. Rather, he pulled you close – your crying softer, now, your struggling impossibly weak – and held you against his chest as he responded. “Do what you have to. They’ll be staying in my chambers, and you won’t lay a hand on them without my permission, doctor.”

“I do wish you could call me Dottore.” He sighed, shaking his head. His acquiescence was communicated with a dismissive roll of his wrist, a silent order communicated to his lackeys. His soldiers moved to take you up, but he kept you in his arms as he pushed himself back to his feet, letting you cling to and beat against his chest in tandem.

Your voice was hoarse, your shoulders trembling. Tears streamed freely from your eyes, and he allowed himself to wonder how poorly you would take it if he ran his tongue over your cheeks. “You— You monster. Hundreds of people will—"

“You said you wanted to stay with me, right?” His smile wasn’t as soft as yours, as comforting, but he did what he could. You let out another agonized sob, crumbling against him as he let his lips ghost over your forehead, speaking against your skin and above your wordless cries.

“Now, there’ll be nothing in the world capable of taking you away from me.”

Thinking about Ex!Aventurine who doesn't have much of a reaction to your break-up, who is certain you'll crawl back to him within three days at most.

Ex!Aventurine who goes on about his life, after all, every second is worth precious credits. Days, weeks, months and then a few years pass and one day, the realization that you may actually have moved on from him crashes atop him like a pile of bricks.

Ex!Aventurine who tries to contact you through your number and social media, only to find that he's been blocked everywhere. No matter how many fake accounts he makes and how many texts and calls he sends you, you just don't respond and it frustrates him so much.

Ex!Aventurine who is ecstatic when he sees you again in Penacony, sprinting his way to you and ready to give you a hearty reprimand on your prolonged avoidance.

Ex!Aventurine whose heart sinks when he sees you coiled around the arms of another, smiling and laughing in pure happiness and paying not a millisecond of attention to him. Is this a joke?

Ex!Aventurine who corners you when an opportunity arises, ready to strangle every answer out of you so please tell him this is just some prank and you still love him—and, his heart shatters when you give him the coldest truth of his life.

Yandere!Ex!Aventurine who feels the nudging of an infamous green monster every time he sees you with them in the halls of the Reveries or in dreamscapes. Who wants to tear his hair out when he sees you giving that dreamy look to that vermin, one he thought belonged only to him? Who wants to tear that imbecile limb from limb every time he touches your skin.

Yandere!Ex!Aventurine who wishes to turn back time and drag you back to him. Who drowns himself in liquor, round after round at the casino and the sweetest of dream bubbles, yet, nothing compares to your warmth. Whose regret and jealousy slowly eat away at his left-over sanity til he's on the verge of committing something that'll soothe his agony but, create one for you.

Yandere!Ex!Aventurine who spares no warning, catapulting mysterious debts and financial troubles your way with no trace that it was his doing. But when you still don't leave your so-called lover, he finally snaps.

Yandere!Ex!Aventurine who takes it slow, one by one, patiently and meticulously ; first the fingers, then the legs, then the eyes and at last the heart of your ‘beloved’. But is not satisfied still and has every piece of their remains fed to hungry wolves right in front of your eyes.

Then, Yandere!(No longer Ex?)Aventurine will come to you and wipe away your tears, shush your curses and hateful words with a kiss. Telling you to forget and resume what you had with him. And you absolutely cannot say no, after all, what other choices do you even have?

Oh god, those headcanons of Tailor! Reade and the harbingers, so good!

Imagine the harbingers coming one day, and your mother tells them with a big smile on her face, that she will be doing the measuring today! They are capable of masking their disappointment, but once half of them are done, One ask the question everyone wanted to know:

"Where are they?"

And your mother, who have been barely holding her glee, finally breaks:

"They are choosing a venue with their fiancè!"

Dead. Fucking. Silence.

Hahaha this is gold.

Next thing you know fiance's in that white casket with Signora and Harbingers be acting all innocent with smiles on their faces the next time they visit Tailor!Reader

Haha but if they're not so yandere they'll probably attend the wedding begrudgingly. Jokes on you cause you're still the one making their suits and dresses for the wedding.

Original brainrot here: https://primofate.tumblr.com/post/689561137995530240/brainrot-ever-since-that-harbingers-trailer

I saw requests were open! I like to request PLATONIC! Lilia with a daughter (or child if you wanna make it gender neutral) who is like Ariel (the Disney princess)

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Soft platonic yandere content, fem reader, reader has red hair but that's the only physical description.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Lovely request, I hope you like it! <3

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Lilia Vanrouge was known for many things; mainly for being a general, the brother of Meleanor, guardian of Prince Malleus, and a loving father. His daughter, similar to Ariel, had beautiful red hair, an adventurous spirit and a kind heart. He had found her soon after finding Silver, lying dormant above the lake, a beautiful green tail revealing to him what you were.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ However, the strange part was that your parents weren't around. No matter how much he called or dived, he hadn't found them anywhere and Lilia was a fairy, who should he turn to to report a missing mermaid child? He did what fairies do and stole you (although if anyone asked, he would say he just adopted you).

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A traveler and connoisseur, he knew a thing or two about potions. And that's how he gave you legs and what an idea that was! As soon as you learned to walk, you couldn't stop running, dragging Silver with you wherever you went. It was tiring to take care of you, but Lilia loved it. You and Silver were the best part of his day, and the memories he forged with both of you was something he would never forget.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Since you were little, you have shown a fascination with the aquatic world, always asking your father about the fish, the algae and the tides. Somehow, he supposed, you knew your home was down there and swimming came naturally to you.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Lilia, although protective, never contained your curiosity. He taught you how to fight and defend yourself, but he also encouraged your passion for music and exploration, preferring that over you wandering aimlessly or swimming, afraid that you would simply disappear, even more if you knew the truth. Nights in Briar Valley are often filled with the sound of your songs, which are reminiscent of the old ballads Lilia used to hear on his travels. Your voice is soft to his heart, like a promise of an old friend.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Despite growing on the cottage, isolated from everyone except your father and brother, you captives everyone who meets you for the first time. Your red, beautiful hair makes everyone turn around to admire and when you sing, they are hypnotized by you - even if you don't why that happens, though it's just your mermaid voice acting.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Lilia likes to tell his old stories of battles and magic to you and Silver, while you, in return, like to talk about the ancient and mysterious artifacts you found during your dives. Lilia helps you organize your items, listening to how much you like your little collection of things.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Overall, he is a very sweet and doting father. He let you run free knowing full well he can take you home if you ever strayed away, if you ever feel hurt if you didn't know you too were adopted. And if this do happens, he sooth and comfort you. You are family and family stay together.

get isekai’d into your gacha hell but every time you meet someone who has a soul-crushing heart-wrenching tear-inducing punch in the throat backstory you give them a non contextual hug (ft. 6reeze)

-> Childe had always had a soft spot for young children, so finding you alone in the blood covered snow amongst a massacre touched that familial part of him...

-> They/them pronouns used - reader has no gender! Completely platonic - reader is a child! This is rather dark tone wise, but has fluff! Descriptions of a massacre and blood - no gore or details!

The snow around you was painted red from all the spilled blood - most of it wasn't yours, but it didn't make the situation better. Your poor exposed feet had gone completely numb from standing in the icy snow for such a long time. You had no idea how long you had stood there, but it felt like forever. Your feet weren't the only thing that had gone numb that night. Seeing something even close to this kind of a massacre would destroy most people, let alone someone your age.

All you could see saw the horror you witnessed with the scent of iron smelling blood filling your senses as the winter wind howled around you. You were too engrossed in the scene before you to notice the snow crunching loudly as someone was approaching you. Only after the looming shadow of their figure settled over you did you turn to slowly look at them. They were a tall man in a large white coat and a noticable red scarf that stood next to you observing the scene, he was so tall you had to crane your nect to be able to see his face.

His gaze lowered and you wete met with the sight of his blue eyes, they stared at you as lifelessly as yours did to him. His eyes scanned over your bloodied features until they landed on your eyes that stared back into his - he almost looked like he was searching for something in yours... Not a word was spoken by either of you as another man approached and said something to him, you paid no mind to them or their brief conversation. The tall man kneeled next to you and you turned your whole body to face him.

“You must be cold.” He stated in a friendly tone.

His voice was more energetic and warm than you thought, it almost made you feel comfortable in his presence. He took off the red scarf you had noticed from around his neck and wrapped it around yours, it was still warm. When he was done he even managed to crack a smile from the many times he had to wrap it around your neck. The scarf did little to shield you from the cold by now that you had become numb to it, but it was a nice gesture to and did provide some warmth.

“Are you all alone?” He turned towards the destroyd village as you simply nodded in reply.

After a moment he turned back to look back at you, “What do you say we get out of here, huh? Get you somewhere warm and get you something to eat?”

You oooked at him in silence for a moment before you managed to answer a quiet, “Okay...”

The man smiled a genuine smile before opening his arms for you. Hesitantly you crept closer until he was able to wrap you inside his large coat and carry you in his arms. You spared one more glance towards your once home as he walked away from the destruction. Some people went deeper inside the village after he picked you up, but you couldn't see what they were doing as the man pushed your head away from its direction and you didn't feel like fighting against him.

He arrived before a carriage and the door was opened for him to climb in. He sat you down across from him and took off his coat to wrap it around you like a blanket. Surely he was cold too? Why would he give you his jacket? As if he could read your mind he smiled.

“Don't worry about it, the ride won't be long.” He assured you.

You didn't respond as you turned to gaze out of the window opposite of your village. It was difficult to see anything in the dark, but it didn't matter as you fell asleep shortly after. All that happened took a heavy toll on your body and mind, the man you left with provided enough comfort for you to be able to fall asleep in his presence. It was likely stupid for anyone to do, but you were young and exhausted.

Either way you simply woke up after some time in an unfamiliar place. The room was large and barely lit up, it only held a large desk with a chair, a huge bookshelf and the couch you were currently laying on. The man was nowhere to be seen and you were alone in a strange place, you felt extremely uncomfortable. You began rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you headed to the almost wall covering window.

It was only beginning to light up outside, meaning you hadn't slept that long. The place you were was seemingly huge by the stone fenced courtyard and you were nowhere near ground floor from the looks of it. You had no idea what to do, but you wanted out - you wanted to go home... There was nothing left of it, but it was the only thing you knew. It was familiar and thus felt safe.

You made your way to the only door leading to this room and rattled the knob until the dood opened, thankfully it wasn't locked. Your head quickly peeked outside to see dark and emty halways on both sides of you. Your head kept turning from side to side as you tried deciding which route to take before finally moving to your right. You tried your best to be quiet and sneaky, but your unclothed feet kept making noise against the marble floor.

You kept walking aimlessly through the never ending maze of halls, just how large could one building be? You were beginning to feel exhausted and cold again, you still had yet to eat or drink and your body was beginning to react to it. You felt weaker and wearier with every step you took until you couldn't do it anymore and collapsed on the ground. Your vision was blurry and your ears rang, but you could hear the faint sound of someone approaching.

“Hm? Well, what do we have here?” They said.

You slowly managed to turn your head and see the person behind you. There stood a tall blonde woman with a cruel smirk and bored expression as she stared at you with her arms crossed. She was rather intimidating by her presence and aura... You didn't dare say anything in return.

“To which fool do you belong to then, hm?” She curtly asked.

You again remained silent and frozen in place, yet didn't break the eye contact with her for a second. She let out a long and drawn out sigh before beginning to approach you, the sound of her heels clicked against the floor. Every step she took rang in your ears as you began shaking from the anxiety - what was she going to do? Why was she coming closer? Please, stop!

“Ah, there you are!” A familiar voice echoed through the empty hall.

Relief washed over you as you saw the man with ginger hair approach in a jog, it was completely different from when the woman had slowly crept closer to you. With a big smile on his face he kneeled down before you to raise you into his arms. You held tightly onto his shirt and faced away from the woman.

“You shouldn't have run off like that! I was really worried about you, you know?” His tone was serious but it wasn't scolding or degrading.

“So this is one your rascal siblings then?” The woman asked.

“That's right.” He replied immediately.

“I should have known. Only you would be foolish enough to bring someone outside of the Fatui here.” She sharply said.

“Yeah, yeah my bad. Are you going to do anything about it or will you just blab on about it?” His tone became colder.

“Hm. Just get them out of here before I do.” She turned away to leave.

The man held you firmly but not enough to the point that it would hurt you. After a while of listening to the sound of Signora's heels he turned to walk back the way he came, to his office. He had been stupid to leave you alone and unguarded with the door unlocked, had he not found you he didn't know what the witch would have done with you. Still, thankfully it was her and not someone like Dottore...

You arrived back in his office in no time, it felt surprisingly comforting after your encounter. The man sat you back on the small couch you had slept on previously, his jacket was still on it the way you had left it. He pulled a chair from his desk to sit directly in front you with a beaming smile on his face. You simply sat put and stared at him.

“Alright, let's start with the basics. What's your name?” He asked in a friendly tone.

You looked away for a brief second, as if you had forgotten your own name before mumbling it to him. He smiled brighter and told you it was a nice name, he introducing himself as Ajax in return - but asked that you didn't call him that when in here. You nodded in agreement.

“So, what do you say we go get something to eat? I promise you that earlier and it must have been a while since you've eaten.” He stood up but suddenly stopped in place as he noticed your clothes and everything suddenly set in.

Your clothing was torn and clearly worn-out, the original colour was hard to make out from under all the dirt and blood. Blood... You weren't hurt were you? He had entirely forgotten to check such a factor, even if it was obvious to others. He had grown used to the sight of blood but seeing you covered in it hurt him deeply.

Yes - he barely knew you, but you reminded him of his siblings. Due to his close relationship with them he had always had a soft spot for them. Finding you all alone admist a burning poor excuse of a village in the midst of a massacre was terrible and pulled on his heartstrings. The way you stood in the freezing cold with that hopeless dead look...

Though you had gone through something incredibly terrible, something not many could ever understand - he didn't want to leave you oike that. Maybe, just maybe he could someday bring a smile on your face like he did to his siblings. You were still young and had your whole life ahead of you, while he was in no way a good person, perhaps he could positively influence you.

“Um, how about I let you get yourself cleaned before hand?” He rubbed the back of his head.

You nodded and got up to hold his outstretched hand. It was warm and comforting as he lead you through the long halls to a door. He opened the lock to reveal a small changing room and a door to the bathing room where you could clean yourself. He left you for a moment and returned with some clothes that were clearly too big for you, but would do for now.

You didn't waste time while bathing, you simply vleaned yourself the best you could before stepping out to dress yourself. Ajax was outside the door sitting on the floor when you stepped out. It was rather amusing to see you in the oversized clothing, your hands weren't visible due to your long sleeves.

“Wow, weren't you fast! Come on let's go eat!” He got up and held out his hand out like before.

He lead you in deeper and down several floors of stairs before entering a kitchen the size of the house you previously lived in! It was entirely empty of people and no lights were lit. Ajax lit some candles before rummaging through each cabinet and space for all sorts of food that unbeknownst to you - he had no business taking or touching. But that didn't matter, you were hungry now and he would deal with the consequences later.

Though his priority was feeding you, he didn't hold himself back from enjoying the food as well. He was going to be in so much trouble... But seeing you so contently munching down food made it all worth it. For a faint moment he could have sworn your lips had curled into a smile as you ate a particular piece of food. He would make mental note of it to learn it later on when he had time. After eating you looked tired again, but it wasn't surprising due to the amount you had eaten and all you had experienced today.

“Hey, little buddy! Mind if I pick you up and carry you?” You nodded in reply.

He did just that and raised you gently into his hold. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and laid your tired head on his shoulder, it didn't take long for you to doze off again. He ran his palm along your back in comforting circles, it was something he did with his siblings as well when they were younger. He had missed it as even Teucer had began growing out of it.

Thinking back on his family they would surely take you in and love you as one of them, but he would not introduce you to them right away. You needed time to grow used to him as he had just met you, you were still strangers despite the circumstances and moments you shared earlier. He would need to talk to them about it before then in any case, he wouldn't always be around and didn't want to leave you with even more strangers.

For now he would simply help you heal and get to know you, you would need to trust him before he could let you meet his family, if you wanted that is... If you did then he would introduce you to them slowly and things would work themselves out from there. At least he hoped they would, but real life was never quite that simple or easy sadly.

Childe laid you on the couch for the third time today and pulled his jacket to cover your sleeping form. Asleep you looked like any other child that was just entering and learning about the world you lived in, but inside you were broken by the horrors it had thrown at you at such a young age. Children should remain children until it was time to grow up - and you were far from ready.

You were a prime example of why he worked so hard to protect his siblings dreams and perceptions of this world. You were why he did the Tsaritsa's bidding, why he believed in her vision of the new world they would create and why it was necessary. He may have not been able to protect you, but he could still give you a world worth living in.

A/N: This was absolutely not proofread, because I'm lazy so apologies! Likes and or reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you so much for reading <3

You absolutely hated Scaramouche.

Detested him, even.

I mean, who wouldn't hate someone who killed them?

This jerk sucked your blood, causing you to die of blood loss, which took hours. Or, at least, it felt like hours to you.

So now, this is where you spend your afterlife. Haunting this emo ass gothic era castle thing. Knocking over shelves, scaring away other people that might fall into Scaramouche's trap, just being annoying in general.

How long had it been like this, you mused. Fifty, sixty years, perhaps.

You didn't mind. You'd stay here for a millennia if it meant being a minor inconvenience to everything Scaramouche did. Plus, you'd gotten used to the routine.

When the sun rises, go screech in the upper west hall to disturb the vampire bastard, then, when the sun is at its highest, go and wander around the garden mournfully.

When the sun sets and the bastard awakens, scare away any other human loitering around the area. Finally, when the bastard has his dinner (usually consisting of a medium rare steak and a red liquid you suspected was blood), knock over the tableware.

So now you were floating around the table, waiting for Scaramouche to arrive and eat his dinner.

The door to the dining room creaked open, revealing a slender man with indigo hair, bold red eyeliner, and skin so pale and smooth you were convinced it was glass at first.

He sat down at the table, reaching for a fork and knife to eat his steak.

Bide your time...

He reached for a glass, to pour himself a drink, you guessed.

Well you weren't going to let him have that.

You made the glass float with your super-awesome ghost powers, placing it on the far end of the table.

All you got was a simple 'hm' out of it, which infuriated you. He then simply reached for another glass, which just pissed you off more. He should be angry! He should be reactive! Why isn't he doing anything?

For some weird reason, he reacted as if this were a normal occurrence. Every. Time. You. Did. It. All he'd do was grab another glass, then pour a drink into both the cups, only drinking one, leaving the other untouched.

It pissed you off.

This happened whenever you tried to take away his plate, too.

Never a 'why are my plates floating' or 'who took my wine' and never even a 'sorry for killing you'.

But one thing you took satisfaction in, was the fact that he could never remove you from the castle. I mean, what was he going to do about it? Call an exorcist? Ha.

Scaramouche shifted in his seat, catching your attention. Maybe I should try stealing his cape.

You were shocked out of that idea when he started speaking to nothingness.

"I know you're there." He said casually, taking a bite out of his steak. "So there's no use in moving the tableware any longer."

...

What.

The vampire smirked. "It's pathetic, honestly. Seeing you try to grab my attention by doing these pointless things."

PATHETIC? Who was he calling pathetic?

"Screeching whenever the sun rises, scaring away any passerbys, taking things from the table... if I didn't know better, I'd say that you're obsessed with me."

Well, you weren't just going to stay there and listen to this utter bullshit.

"Obsessed with you?" You spoke. Man, it felt weird to use your voice after six decades. Even weirder when you couldn't feel your voice box vibrating.

"No one in their right mind would be obsessed with you. The only reason I do the things I do is to inconvenience you."

Scaramouche still had that stupidly annoying smirk on his face. "Well, you've spent decades haunting me, yet you have made no inconvenience in my life whatsoever. In fact, I'd say that your antics are particularly entertaining." He said, intertwining his fingers together.

"After five hundred years of monotony, anyone would get bored, don't you think?"

Gods, you absolutely hated Scaramouche.

"Well, my 'antics' aren't meant to be entertaining, they're meant to be annoying and inconveniencing, kind of how I feel about you." You drawl.

And get this, instead of getting angry, Scaramouche laughed.

"Ha, as if I could feel annoyance towards you." He chuckled. "Haven't you seen the signs? I've welcomed you as a guest. I've offered you food. I've offered you a place to sleep, though I am not sure if you use it. And, I've hosted you in my house for over a year. Are you aware what procedures these are for?"

"Why, of course. They're the courtship rituals taken by the people of Inazu...ma." Your voice died down in your throat as you finished your sentence.

"And since you have stayed here for over a year," the vampire continues, grinning from ear-to-ear, "it means that we are now betrothed."

Hiii! Omg I really loved the Khaenri'ah child!!! Would you be willing to write platonic archons with a child who is the daughter or niece of the Heavenly Principels?🙏

Heaven’s Little Star

Synopsis: The Archons find themselves faced with an unusual charge: a child born of Celestia’s will, the daughter (or niece) of the Heavenly Principles. Despite their vastly different personalities and histories with the gods above, they each develop a unique bond with the child, treating them as a precious yet mysterious presence in their lives. Whether out of genuine affection, curiosity, or cautious reverence, the Archons all find themselves drawn to this little celestial being. Pairings: Venti, Zhongli, Raiden Ei, Nahida, Furina, Mavuika x Celestial Child

Venti - The Carefree Guardian

Venti is the first to disregard whatever divine implications surround you. To him, you are not "Celestia’s child" but simply a child who deserves joy and freedom. He takes you on wild adventures across Mondstadt, letting you dance with the wind and sing along to his songs.

However, beneath the lightheartedness, there's a wariness he doesn't speak of. He avoids the subject of Celestia like a plague, but every time you mention your origins, a fleeting look of contemplation crosses his face. He doesn’t see you as a threat, but the history between him and Celestia is complicated.

He spoils you endlessly—dandelion wine is off-limits, of course, but fresh apple cider? Only the best for you. If you ever get upset, he’ll strum his lyre, voice soft as he hums a tune just for you. And if you ever feel trapped by divine expectations? He’ll take you somewhere the stars feel close enough to touch, whispering that no fate is unchangeable.

But even through his mischief, Venti knows what you are. If Celestia ever comes to retrieve you, he’ll be ready to play the trickster, to steal you away like a breeze that refuses to be caught.

“Don’t let them take you back up there, little breeze. The sky is beautiful, but you belong where you can laugh freely.”

Zhongli - The Wise Protector

Zhongli treats you with a mix of reverence and warmth. He is perhaps the only one who truly understands the gravity of your existence. Unlike Venti, he does not ignore your origins—he acknowledges them and prepares accordingly.

“Even the oldest of gods must respect the unknown,” he murmurs when Hu Tao asks why he is so careful with you.

Despite his caution, he ensures you are taught the ways of Liyue’s traditions, history, and philosophy, determined to give you an identity outside your celestial ties. Should you ever express sadness over your connection to the Heavenly Principles, he will kneel before you, placing a steady hand on your shoulder.

“You are not your lineage alone. You are who you choose to become.”

He also spoils you in a different way—gifts of fine tea, calligraphy sets, and jade trinkets are common. He takes you on strolls through Liyue Harbor, explaining the significance of each structure and telling you stories of the past. If you have any celestial abilities, he teaches you how to use them wisely, warning you of their consequences.

Should anyone dare to harm you, the old instincts of the Geo Archon resurface. He may have retired his godhood, but for you, he would summon stone and spear once more.

There is an underlying protectiveness in the way he acts. He never mentions Celestia openly, but there’s a glint in his golden eyes that speaks of caution.

“You must understand,” he murmurs one evening as you sip tea beside him, “power is a responsibility, not a right. No matter where you come from, the choices you make will define you.”

Ei - The Silent Guardian

Ei is distant at first. She does not know how to handle children, much less one tied to Celestia. She watches you carefully, as if expecting divine judgment to be passed at any moment.

But over time, her wariness fades. She begins to teach you the way of the sword, explaining the importance of discipline and strength. If you show an interest in the arts, she encourages it—perhaps as a way to make up for the time she lost with Makoto.

Unlike the others, she does not shower you with affection, but her actions speak louder than words. She ensures you have the best food, the best training, and the best security. If you ever fall asleep in the Tenshukaku, she will sit beside you in silence, keeping watch.

She does not see you as an extension of Celestia, but as an individual. And for that, she is willing to protect you with everything she has.

“If they ever try to take you away,” she says, eyes sharp as lightning, “I will be the storm that tears them apart.”

Nahida – The Understanding Guide

Unlike the others, Nahida understands what it means to be born into something greater than yourself. She sees the loneliness behind your celestial ties, the quiet yearning for normalcy. And so, she does not treat you as a divine being, nor as an anomaly. She treats you as you.

With her, you are allowed to be a child. To learn, to stumble, to grow. She introduces you to Sumeru’s people, lets you play in its forests with the Aranara, and gives you books filled with stories to dream about.

She teaches you dreams and stories, whispering truths and fables alike into your mind as she tucks you in at night. She tells you, “The world is vast, and even the gods do not know everything. If you ever wish to leave the shadow of the heavens, I will help you carve your own path.”

More than anything, she wants you to have the freedom she once lacked. And if Celestia ever tries to take that from you, she will use every ounce of her wisdom to keep you safe.

“No matter what they say you are, you are still you. And that is enough.”

Furina - The Dramatic Older Sister

Furina treats you like a beloved younger sibling—one she absolutely must spoil rotten. You are not just a child in her eyes; you are an audience, a confidant, and a co-star in whatever dramatic performance she has planned for the day.

She insists on dressing you in the finest Fontaine fashion, taking you to grandiose operas and teaching you how to deliver the most elegant of courtly speeches. She showers you with extravagant gifts, sometimes unnecessary, but always dazzling.

But beneath her theatricality, she is aware of the weight of your origins. There is a quiet protectiveness beneath the glitz and glamour. If anyone dares to treat you differently because of your divine bloodline, she will tear them apart with sharp words and sharper wit.

“You may be of Celestia,” she declares grandly, pulling you into an over-the-top hug, “but you are also of Fontaine! And as its beloved citizen, you deserve nothing less than the best!”

She treats you with indulgence, giving you gifts, lavishing you with admiration, yet there is always an underlying tension. She fears the day you might outgrow her influence, or worse—the day you might be taken away.

And if it ever comes to that, Furina, despite all her fears, would stand atop the Opera Epiclese and demand a trial against the gods themselves.

Mavuika - The Fiery Mentor

Mavuika is fascinated by you. She does not fear you, nor does she treat you with excessive reverence. Instead, she welcomes you with open arms, inviting you to Natlan’s grand festivals and teaching you the ways of her people.

She trains you to be strong, to carve your own path despite the divine blood in your veins. If you struggle, she does not coddle you—she pushes you forward, making sure you learn through experience.

But she is not unkind. When the weight of your origins becomes too much, she lets you rest against her, patting your back with a warm, steady hand.

“Celestia may have given you life,” she says with a grin, “but the world is yours to shape. Don’t let them decide who you are.”

TWST HC #1

Who has two thumbs and has the same birthday as a pair of sociopathic eels?

Depending on who you ask, sharing your birth date with the Leech brothers is either a blessing, a curse, or some amalgamation of the two.

Somehow, some way, they will find out your birthday. Did you mention it to a classmate in passing? That’s great! They can tell Floyd all about it. You got an alert from Magicam? You also get a like from Jade! Really the only way to be sure they don’t know is to make sure no one knows. But then where’s the fun in that?

If and when these two find out you have the same birthday, look forward to having at least one of them glued to you every waking second. You’re sandwiched between the two of them during meals, walking to classes, and studying in the library. For any joint classes you have with the upperclassmen, expect Jade to immediately take the spot right next to you. Some of the students mention that he’s not even taking this class, but don’t worry. He’s memorized the coursework and is more than happy to help you in exchange for keeping him company. As for the rest of the school day, well… Deuce was more than a little confused when he came into class and saw Floyd in his seat, practically draped over you like an overly affectionate blanket.

Speaking of your classmates, any friendly chats and hangout time is going to be severely cut down for the day. Riddle had planned to gift you with some Trey-made sweets and a Happy Birthday, only to immediately retreat the second he saw Floyd playing with your hair - he’ll just leave the box on your doorstep with a card. Before Rook could emerge from his hiding spot and perform the poem he’d written for you, Jade all but pulled him out of hiding. Some of them put up a good fight, trying to wrestle you away from the twins, but it’s not long before Floyd’s pulling at your sleeve and asking for attention while Jade kindly sees them off.

Azul and the rest of Octavinelle prepared a huge birthday party for Floyd and Jade, and you’re coming too. To be fair, they were already planning to invite you, but now it’s mandatory. Floyd made it mandatory. They’ve put together an assortment of sweets, snacks, and drinks, all of which includes some of your favorites. How and why there’s such a comprehensive list of your favorites is something you’ll worry about another day. Hm, you want to bring your friends, too? That’s fine, but if they cause any trouble it’ll be at your expense, so pick your guests carefully.

Birthday gifts are a double-edged sword. Figuratively speaking; no one’s managed to acquire a literal one yet and thank the Seven for that. By the end of the day, you’ll have a present from each of the brothers. To no one’s surprise, Jade buys you that one thing you’ve been saving up week’s worth of money to buy. Depending on Floyd’s mood, he’ll either recall something you mentioned in passing and springboard off that for ideas, or he’ll re-gift you something he bought because it looked cute. So, what did you prepare for them?

FSHHHH~

CRACK

BOOM!

Colors and light ignited the sky for a split second before slowly fading into the dark of the night. You’d had a feeling Floyd was going to enjoy the idea of setting off fireworks, but Jade’s enthusiasm was an unexpected if not welcome revelation. At least you assume he’s enjoying the display, if the way his eyes remained trained on the sky is anything to go by.

“And you said this is part of a holiday where you come from?”

“Kind of,” you shrug, pausing to watch Floyd set off another and send it skyward, “It’s not something known worldwide, and even fewer people celebrate it. But some folks still do things like have bonfires and light fireworks.”

Another burst of sparks pepper the sky, leaving trails of embers as they go. Willows, if memory serves you correctly.

“In that case, would this not be considered a celebration of the holiday rather than our birthday.”

Maybe it’s because you’ve been around Jade for the whole day, but you can’t help but laugh.

“Are you saying you’re unhappy with my gift? And after all the trouble I went through to get these fireworks…”

Against your better judgment, you lean against him. Just a little. Enough to feel him move as he laughs.

“My apologies. I should know better than to turn down such a compassionate gift.”

“Hey, Jade! Koebi-chan!” you both look up just in time to see Floyd running up the steps to Ramshackle, “Did you see how big that last one was? Man, my ears are still ringing.”

He grins and grabs your arm, nearly pulling you off the ground as he starts walking back to the field.

“C’mon, there’s still a couple more left. Let’s set them off together.”

He doesn’t even wait for a response before dragging you off. Behind you, you can hear Jade laugh to himself, followed by the soft crunch of footsteps against hard dirt.

“So did you enjoy your present?”

“Yep!” Floyd nods his head, playfully swinging the hand holding you as he leads you to a single rocket stuck to the ground, with a wick trailing a foot behind, “The party was nice and all, but this is more exciting!”

With a quick flick, a small flame erupts from his pen, and hands the wick to you.

“Go ahead, Koebi-chan. Light the candle and make a wish.”

“I don’t think that’s how birthday wishes work,” you chuckle before holding the wick above the flame.

You barely have time to register the faint hiss and wisps of smoke before being swept off your feet and carried away from the blast zone.

Hopefully Azul won’t be too upset if his henchmen come back a little… crispier than when they left.

YANDERE FATUI/HARBINGER SCARA>>>>>>>

The way he would kill anyone who would even look at you, if their someone in the fatui or Harbingers he will try and make their life hell (and he would succeed) wether you know his actions or not

Perhaps it’s fear, admiration, love, it doesn’t matter it’s the way you look at him the way he knows your calling to him, your his

I LOVE THE WHOLE HARBINGER, AND YANDERE AESTHETIC FOR SCARA

From aree: hard agree with you, anon. Harbinger Scara as a Yandere just hits all the right boxes. Hope you don't mind me writing a short lil bit right here. I sort of hyperfixated on the staring thing.

tw for implied human experimentation and slight body horror

always watching// yandere!scaramouche

Scaramouche seems to get lost in his own thoughts a lot, staring off into the distance.

The Fatui grunts know better than to approach him when he's stuck in his own head. None of them can exactly tell whether he's simply bored at the moment or he's planning another murder that would change the course of history, but either way, getting close while he's thinking does not bode anyone well.

Currently, they've taken to noticing that his eyes always seem to find their way to you when he's deep in thought. His eyes are a burning glare, almost willing with focus alone for your very body to combust into a flurry of flames on the spot.

But of course, you stay safely intact, Scaramouche is left to stew in his self-imposed hatred for you and anyone bearing witness to all this tries their best to steer clear of the angered Harbinger whilst wondering what you did to earn such negative emotions. However, there are those who notice that his anger is not exactly aimed at you, but more so what you're doing.

Because once your attention is on Scaramouche, it's as if all the anger fizzles out - his face could be carefully blank or a smirk or a cruel laugh. The anger only comes back full force when you're looking away. Some of the grunts have taken to wondering: is he pretending to be cordial with you, while sending you hateful looks when your back is turned? He must hate you, right? But that didn't make sense, Scaramouche didn't even bother to hide his disdain for the other Harbingers, so why make the effort for you?

Why is he glaring at you like that?

Scaramouche hates it when your attention is on someone else. Thankfully, none have made the connection. But even if they did, they'd sooner use the knowledge to their advantage before saying it to his face. So for now, as far as he knows, you and the Fatui are none the wiser.

He hates it. Why? Just why? Surely, you can tell he wants to keep talking to you, even when he spits insult after insult, telling you your very presence was annoying, how you keep wasting his time with small talk when you can just get to the point. But you don't. There's a limit to how much of his disdain you can take, and when you walk away from him to continue your other duties, only then does he realize he has spread too much of himself to leave some room for you. But it's too late. And he does it again and again. You'll come back to him again, he'll insult you again, and you'll leave… again.

If there's anything he's thankful for it's that you still keep coming back, so surely, you feel an ounce of whatever he feels for you as well? Why else would you come back to him only to be ridiculed to hell and back? Yes, surely you love him. Even if it's just a fraction, it's a fragment Scaramouche is willing to guard with his life until he can take more of it.

So when he notices that some people have started occupying your time more and more, well, he's not thrilled, at the very least.

He thought he made peace with that fact a long time ago. Of course you need to talk to other people. Humans are social creatures that thrive off of the interactions they make day by day. It was annoying, but he could let it go. Until he realized the more time you spent with them, the less he got with you.

The realization kicked in when he approached you while you were talking to a Fatui skirmisher. You nod at him and he opens his mouth to say something before you immediately turn back to continue your previous conversation. He gapes for a second, for the first time caught off-guard by your actions, before he's gritting his teeth and snapping at you. The Fatui skirmisher makes an escape for it the moment they find an opening - Scaramouche will be sure to give them a fitting punishment later - before he turns to you and all the fire is put out once more. Your expression is confused and he'd be lying if he said the small fear he sees in your eyes makes him uneasy.

He staves off from seeing you for a while as he cools his head, but that idea backfired hard when he all but ran around Zapolyarny Palace looking for you. When you greet him again, like nothing was ever wrong, Scaramouche makes a promise to himself. It's not like you were the problem. He sees the way you smile at others and he's sure against all doubt that it's emptier compared to when you talk to him. It's everyone else. Everyone else was the problem.

Besides, it's not like he can stop you from whatever you were doing. If he did, you'd start acting differently toward him, too. Your smile would drop whenever he was in the area. You'd wear simpler clothes when you were with him. You'd lose your voice whenever he was in your line of sight. So no, making you stop was not part of the solution.

He just had to make everyone else stop.

Scaramouche thinks they are underestimating how he watches. He has his eyes on you, yes, but that doesn't mean he is no longer aware to what happens around the two of you. He's not all that concerned, however, not anymore. Years of patience has taught him well how to deal with humans. He is well prepared for small little hiccups such as this. He won't hurt them, oh no, not yet. The Fatui needs as many of its people in tip top shape as much as possible, so he can't lay a hand on them.

All is fair outside the organization, however.

Whoever has found themselves under his watchful gaze will discover a lovely little package waiting back home for them. Inside, they will find two perfectly preserved eye balls bobbling up and down in a glass case of unidentified liquid. Scaramouche thinks its a fun game for the offender - how long will it take for them to find out which loved one the eyes belong to? (He should thank the Doctor for extracting the eyes from the host so flawlessly. He just hopes the mad man kept his promise and returned the person where they were last found, and not confined them into another experiment table. Then again, he couldn't care less what comes after. He wipes his hands clean from that.)

It's a threat and a warning all rolled into one gift, tied together tightly with a bow not unlike Scaramouche's love for you. The message is clear.

Keep your eyes to yourself.

Pretty soon, almost any and every grunt notices Scaramouche's eyes on you. But in the rare chance that the anger is not there, and there is only you, his eyes seem to say only one thing.

Look at me.

 ＝＝✿＝＝｜✧••❀••✧｜＝＝✿＝＝

✨ Masterlist ✨

Taglist: 💛@wonpielle 💜@shikanosn

🌙 Disclaimer: Characters are not mine and belong to their respective creators. Their portrayal is merely my own interpretation of them and may not be accurate to their intended characterization. I stake no claim to the original works, only to the ideas and plot of the fictitious stories I’ve written them into.