ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝗣𝗢𝗩: 𝗬𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴

Hello!!!! I really liked the Diluc and Xiao w a teenage reader (not in any weird ways lol it was very nice to read and great plot) If its okay can you continue it, maybe with more characters or just a continuing of the fic w the same characters, purely platonic nothing weird, anything works really!!! I'd just live to see more of it! ♡

Scaramouche + Zhongli with a Teenager!Reader Part 2

Hi, thank you. If you want me to continue a character's part then you can just ask me.

Previous part here. Next part here.

Strictly platonic, mentions of Y/n being abused. Spoilers for Liyue and Inazuma archon quest.

Scaramouche:

You hated the people at home. They did... weird things to you. You felt lost, was a child supposed to go through this stuff? You spent your time in adolescence with them, suffering but still getting through it.

When you grew more and became more self aware, you realized the people at home didn't care for you, they were just using you, punishing you to make you think you were such a bad child. You fell for it, pushing yourself to reach their expectations.

You trusted them, that they would treat you better if you became better. You became the best person you could be for them, but they still treat you the same. Careless, violent, close minded. Only behind closed doors. Those people at home.

Outside, there were much nicer people in a much nicer environment. You weren't sure if you could trust those nice people. Were they just acting nice outside but completely different inside?

You really felt lost. Would you really spend your entire life in paranoia?

Deciding to take a walk, you got pretty lost. It was afternoon, a couple of hours until only the stars would lend you light. You thought about the people who you saw everyday at home. What would it be like if things were different? Is it too late for things to change?

The sky was a little too dark for you to notice a tall man with dark clothes and a mask walk up to you. "Hey, you. You're not supposed to be here." You heard someone with a very intimidating voice.

—

Scaramouche assigned some of his subordinates to be put on patrol for today. He decided it would be good to check up on them, since he hasn't heard anything from them since early morning.

He was walking, seeing if anything suspicious was around the patrolling area. Occasionally, he would spot one of his servants and they would tell Scaramouche what they discovered. It was a pretty normal check up.

The Balladeer was about done. Just two more underlings to meet up with. He spotted one of them in the distance, seeming to get violent with someone. It was probably a drunk adult that trespassed and was disobeying the fatui.

When Scaramouche looked closer, he noticed that you, the trespasser, was still pretty young. If you were just a drunk adult that angered a subordinate, he would leave the two of you be. Scaramouche stopped walking and observed, witnessing every move his subordinate did to you.

Wait. Why would someone, even if it was an angered fatui member, attack a child? He heared your pained whimpers and your pleas to stop. It's like you knew exactly what to say, even though the violent servant was not stopping. He couldn't help but get curious. Did you go through this before?

Well, enough thinking. Scaramouche snapped back to reality when he saw tears threatening to drop from your eyes. He stomped towards you two. The subordinate stopped pushing you around to look at The Balladeer. You looked at him as well, still tense.

"My Lord!" The man in the mask kneeled down, forgetting about you. Scaramouche didn't say anything immediately, which made the subordinate assume his lord was glaring at you.

—

The masked man gripped your wrist, still kneeling, and pulled you down harshly. You thought it was because you needed to kneel down as well. But, before you could, Scaramouche slapped the subordinate's hand away from yours.

"What's the situation here?" Scaramouche asked the man on patrol. "Well, My Lord. I did not see anything out of the ordinary. Not until this person was trespassing on the grounds. So, I had to—" He was interupted by Scaramouche, who sighed loud and quick, hinting for the subordinate to stop.

Scaramouche looked at you. You were standing a bit stiff, with your head down but still looking back at him. You were fidgeting with your hands infront of you, getting ready to be scolded and thrown to the ground. Scaramouche looked back at his subordinate, who was staring back in anticipated and confusion.

"Hm. So, we already know you're stupid. Are you blind as well?" You then found out that this man was way more scary than the masked man. You gulped.

"You can't see?" He gripped your arm. His hand was a bit loose, to not hurt you and hopefully not scare you. You flinched but stayed in place. You didn't want to anger this man, after all. "This human is still developing. Do you know what that means?" Scaramouche glared down at the subordinate, who was now trembling. You also stared at him.

"This is a child." You just stood there, your arm where Scaramouche was holding became even more tense. You had no clue what the two men's intentions were. Will they punish you?

"M-my apoligies, my lord! My mask was a bit foggy today, the darkness did not help either—" "Will you just shut up?" Scaramouche let go of your arm and took a tiny step forward to the kneeling man. "Go back to headquarters. You're done for today," He ordered. "Yes, my lord!"

When the subordinate was out of sight, Scaramouche turned towards you. He examined you, to see if he could recognize you, but that did not work. It seems you were just a lost teenager. "Why are you out here alone? Get back to your family." His voice was still as intimidating, but he wasn't glaring at you like he was to his subordinate.

"...Family?" You whispered. Scaramouche clicked his tongue. "You really don't know, do you?" He crossed his arms. What does this guy mean? You wiped your cheek, where the subordinate once slapped you, as if trying to brush off the pain. "You know, the people at home." Your eyes widened, while his narrowed down at you.

"I—" You tilted your head up at Scaramouche. "I don't want to—" You stuttered, then remembered something. No one cares if you do or don't want to, it doesn't matter because you need to. You looked down at your hands, resting your face to make it blank and waiting for this man to tell you something. Perhaps to give you another order.

"You have something to say? Speak." That was his next order. Did you have something to say? You wanted to cry out, 'Save me, please.' But remembering his attitude towards the masked man, you hesitated.

The man infront of you must have a higher rank, to be able to order people around. It was just like the people at home, and you were the subordinate. "Don't want to talk, huh. Then tell me your address, I'll take you back home." You noticed he didn't ask, he demanded. Or, at least you thought he did. Scaramouche was actually just offering—in his own stubborn way—to take you home.

You knew you had to talk now. You've memorized the address, the one where the people at home stay. So, you'll just say that, and it'll all be easy. Just your neighborhood and house number— "Don't take me home! ...I-I mean—" You failed. Now this guy was going to tell the man that lives at home how bad you were.

Getting ready for a punishment, you slowly looked up at Scaramouche. He has an eyebrow raised as he uncrossed his arms. He was starting to get annoyed by your timidness. ...It kind of reminded him of Kunikuzushi. But, it's not time to dwell on the past.

"The people at home... Will just do the same things the guy with the mask did." You tried to explain your situation. You don't care if you can't trust anyone. It doesn't matter what they will do to you, because your life was already miserable. It can't get worst. You were staring to lose hope.

Scaramouche tried remembering what his subordinate did to you. He remembers that he pulled your hair, swinging his hand around to shake your head. Your reaction was too clutch the sides of your head with your face tensing up. He remembers how he kicked your shins when you were walking too slow. Your reaction to grip your leg while letting out a pained cry. He— didn't want to think about it further. "If your family— The people at home do that, then that's not home. That's just a house, not your home."

You started feeling confused. Then, the feeling of being lost hit you again. "Then, what's my address..."

"Tell me where their address is, the people that hurt you." Scaramouche was glaring, but not directed at you. He was glaring at his thoughts. How could someone do such things to a growing child? During their most important years of development? He'll do whatever he can to make their lives miserable. He'll fire them from their jobs, spread bad rumours, kill them, torture them for hours— He will make them pay.

But, that should come later. Scaramouche needs to take care of you first, since no one else was willing to do so the proper way. He doesn't want a teenager becoming like how he was, wandering around with no purpose. Eventually, the wrong people would take you in.

...Maybe Scaramouche was the wrong person. But, his intentions weren't wrong at all.

Scaramouche wouldn't pull your hair, he would pet your hair. He wouldn't slap your cheek, he would rub it softly, calming you down. He wouldn't push your shoulder harshly, he would wrap his arm around you, gently holding both of your shoulders to guide you, with him by your side.

And if anyone would do something he did not approve of towards you... He'd softly tell you to close your eyes before he would cast eternal hell upon them.

Zhongli:

One time when you were at a very young age, you got in trouble with your family. You did a simple mistake that almost any child would make. Your family grounded you to your room, saying to learn your lesson.

You were pouting in anger, thinking about running away. You were in a pretty normal situation for a child, except for the fact that you actually did run away.

The window was left wide open when you snuck out. After wandering around Liyue harbour, you felt lonely and scared so you went back home. But, instead of going back through your window, you went to another window that shows the dining room.

You crouched and peeked through the glass, straining your ears to hear what your family was saying at the dining table. You soon realized they were talking about you.

They were talking about how dumb you were, how they should've never had you. Your family laughed when one of them made an insulting joke about you. You just stared from the window, eyes getting glossy.

Suddenly, one of your family members said they were going to check up on you. So, they stood up and walked towards your room. You stayed crouching, wondering what they would do if you weren't there.

When said family member came back, they had a smile. You basically had question marks above your head, before they raised a fist in victory and stated how you magically disappeared. "It's like our god has finally lifted a weight off of our shoulders. Now, we can finally live in peace."

You ran away for real after that.

It was hard living as a street kid. But over the few years, you learned how to take care of yourself. You slept out in the open, most likely on a bench. Whenever you saw one of your family members walking by in the street, you were extra careful to not be spotted.

The most important people in your childhood turned out to hate you. So, you thought everyone hated you. It was a stupid thought, but you were a close minded child. That thought stayed with you until you grew became more self aware. So if you ever earned some Mora, you wouldn't spend it. Instead, you would steal whatever you needed.

For one, you wanted to save money for when you were older. Your dream was to move out of Liyue harbor, and live under a different archon's protection. And two, you didn't trust anyone with your Mora. You thought people would take your money and say "Hah, get lost," without giving what you payed for.

You hated Liyue's archon. He was the one who made everyone, especially your family, hate you. He blessed your family with your disappearance, just as they said. You could only hate him as much as he hates you.

It was now present time. Today, you were feeling especially hungry. Why? Because you didn't get the chance to eat anything for a few days. A few days might be a lot, but it was pretty normal for you. Your body was trained to handle this kind of hunger.

You went up to a food stand, staying in place not too close, but not too far to not be noticed. You were observing the types of food they had displayed. Your plan was to choose the food you think was the easiest to steal without getting noticed. Come back during the night, where almost all of the lights were off, and snatch what you wanted.

You wanted to do it now, but there were too many people. You wanted to eat at least a small meal, but you stopped yourself, even though you would probably feel to weak to do it later.

"Are you hungry, little one?" You heard a deep voice say. Your head snapped up, realizing that you were so exhausted that you were about to fall asleep standing up. A tall man with a ponytail was standing before you patiently.

"I can't help but notice you staring at the food here for quite some time. Are you planning on buying a few ingredients for your family?" His voice was so calming, yet intimidating. Like one wrong move and he would look down upon you in disappointment.

Your meals were so small, this tall man considered them ingredients. But, forget that. Did he really think you were buying food for family? You shook your head at his question and he hummed in response. Was he actually disappointed? That you weren't going to help your family? Was he just another person who hated you now?

Deciding that it was the end of your conversation, you looked around the harbour, finding a place nearby to take a nap. You almost completed forgot the man was still here, until he asked you another question.

"Are you looking for something specific? I know the ways around Liyue. Just tell me and I could lead you wherever you want," The same man offered. Your body was facing to the side, but your head turned to look at him.

Wait, does he not hate you? Because he offered... No, he probably does hate you. Maybe he just wants to lead you somewhere quiet to beat you up, since he hates you so much.

He noticed you were hesitant, so his first instinct was to make you trust him. "My name is Zhongli, I work in Wangsheng Funeral Parlor." You faced Zhongli with a neutral stare. You didn't introduce yourself back, instead admitting what you were doing.

"I'm just looking for a good place to enjoy a meal. I already found that food stand over there, so I don't need help," You said with a monotone voice. Zhongli put his hand to his chin and closed his eyes. "Hmm..." When he opened them again, he hit you with another question. "But why settle for a small stand that only sells two types of bread, along with some apples?"

'Only??' You wanted to say. You furrowed your eyebrows. Maybe it's because this man ate way more fancier foods than just a few bites of a sunsettia.

"Look, I'm just a homeless teen that can't afford fancy meals like you. Growing up on your own is hard, even a piece of bread could be considered enough for the day." You wanted this weirdo to stop questioning you. You also wanted someone to talk to about your life... But you haven't spoken to anyone in so long that you didn't know how to keep a good conversation going. Not like anyone would want to converse with you.

"Oh. I see." Zhongli straightened his arms to his side. "Would it be alright if I treat you to a nice restaurant? I'll buy anything you order." His voice sounded a bit softer, in a more hushed tone. But, you shook your head and turned around abruptly... You couldn't even take one step before falling forward and losing consciousness.

—

When you woke up, it took you some time to remember everything.

When you remembered that you passed out, you shot up from your sleeping position. Your body ached a bit, probably because you were laying on wood. You noticed you were sitting on a bench you slept on last night... Was everything that just happened a few minutes ago a dream?

Apperantly not, because the guy from earlier was sitting next to you. "Oh, you're awake. Are you feeling well?" You turned to look at Zhongli, and slowly nodded. "You passed out. It sounded like you hit the ground pretty hard. You must be hungry?" You looked forward and nodded once more before standing up and speed walking away. You decided to ignore Zhongli following close behind. Only a couple of more hours until you can go back to that food stand again. You were so hungry.

You stopped when you heard the sounds of a smooth sizzling fire, and found out there was a huge restaurant next to you. The delightful smell of the salty foods mixed with the sweet desserts, it made you starve. You wanted to cry. Curse this horrible world—no, this horrible archon. How could someone that retired from a divine being still act so cruel?

"Hm? We could go in there if you'd like. You don't have to worry about the Mora," Zhongli, who you forgot about, asked. You bit your lip and looked down. You wanted to scream in agony, you wanted to give up.

Your emotions were getting to you. Thoughts were flooding your mind, you had no control. You started feeling so furious at this man. You tilted your head up at Zhongli—but suddenly your tense face eased up. You noticed a resemblance.

"Mh—..." Your eyes widened at Zhongli. He only raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Morax..?"

Zhongli was taken off guard—did you just call him Morax? You immediately looked back down, a bit embarrassed but still angry. Was he really the god of Liyue? Maybe that's why you're so mad at him. But, it couldn't be, an archon doesn't casually walk around in public, right? But Rex Lapiz retired, so is he just a normal citizen now?

"It's Z— Zhongli," He stuttered, eyebrow twitching with nervousness. You faced him, looking up once again. You then squinted, trying to imagine dragon horns and a tail on him. Oh, he really was Morax.

"Morax!" You half-yelled while your teeth clenched and eyes narrowed Zhongli tried to hush you, worried if other people would overhear. You felt offended by that, shoving him away. "You were such a horrible archon. How dare you!" Tears were threatening to fall.

Zhongli put his hands on your shoulders, leading you both to a quiet area with barely anyone around. You felt too frail to fight back. You felt your stomach eating you up, along with a headache making you want to die.

When you both stopped, you thought Morax was going to walk away, but instead he kneeled down infront of you. "...I apologize. I've always known about your situation, yet I didn't want to be the one to approach you." He started explaining his side of the story.

You wiped your eyes and let him speak. "I... knew about your hatred towards me as an archon, I did not want to bother you." You looked into his eyes. They were a bit sad, heartbroken. "But after realizing that my people would not help you, I felt a sense of betrayal. I had to do something."

"Please, Y/n, let me help. I can't bear the weight of witnessing a child, one of my people, suffer like this." You didn't respond. How could you, when the person who you hated most in your life wanted to help you?

Feeling too hungry to respond, you looked down and lightly clutched your shirt near your stomach. Maybe you should just accept his offer, you could use this to your advantage and eat all the foods and try all the drinks you've been so jealous to have a taste of.

You'd have to thank Morax later. He wants to help you, even though you despised him.

Well, now a certain archon felt protective of you, in a calm yet intimidating way.

The Balladeer strives to uphold the illusion of a consensual and healthy relationship at any cost: no traces of toxicity and abuse shall be left out in the open for everyone to see. It is not that the Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers himself cares about the opinions of his most untrustworthy colleagues or lowlifes under his command – you will be branded a fool for assuming that he is bothered by what others think. He just doesn’t want you to expect a knight in shining armor to come to the rescue once they see how badly he treats you; any hope to leave him by using the conveniently helping hand shall be extinguished akin to a firefly’s light. 

Scaramouche is not against the idea of spilling the impudent insect’s blood (he is more than willing to slay thousands and thousands of them if he feels like it) – he is against the idea of you seriously contemplating someone would gift you a ticket out of this relationship. The risk is minimal, he knows it: among the ranks of Fatui, it’s very unlikely for an ordinary piece of meat such as yourself to catch the attention of both high-ranking members and their subordinates of humble might – yet he will still prefer to terminate any chance of luring in any noble intentions.

He is not afraid of confronting that rare and exceptional idiot who would be brave enough to try to snatch the “maiden” out of the “dragon”’s grasp, oh no – he is afraid of losing his control over you. He must remain the sole pillar of the crumbling temple that is your life; you must rely only on him because who else in this rotten world will waste their time on you? You must realize that while he is an utterly deplorable being, he is your one and only “safe option”; more so than the potential “nice guy” scumbag who will keep up appearances as long as there is a benefit in doing so until the need to stab you in the back arises. With Scaramouche, you will never taste deception and betrayal – he may slap your face hard enough to split your lower lip, but he is at least honest about his methods of silencing your lousy mouth… And he will comfort your injury right away, with just the right amount of tenderness so as to not pollute his “villain” status, and you will be – in a rather paradoxical way – deemed insane for declaring he is handling you roughly because there will be nothing to your skin to indicate there was a laceration in the first place. 

You are not mistaken for presuming that he is no better than those he often accuses of hypocrisy. The Balladeer is just as obsessed with wiping out any evidence of what he is doing to you in private as his brainwashed agents are with covering up their clandestine activities in peaceful lands; he claims he is doing it to avoid unnecessary attention and insists that you will suffer much worse if others develop the idea that beating you is a fun and totally unpunishable thing to do – really, what else will those imbeciles get into their heads if they see their boss making a punching bag out of some peasant-looking woman? They will take the scene as an invitation to the banquet, of course!

By Scaramouche’s decree, therefore, everything about the twisted bond between the two of you must tell of the happiness of a dog kept on a leash by her master and demonstrate the elation of a toy that willingly sold itself to a puppet master. You must always smile and nod at his every statement; must always mind your manners and show no sign of artificiality – in other words, you must behave akin to a wind-up doll, additionally adopting a composure and obedience befitting a seasoned soldier (and definitely not a village wench). In this counterfeit theatre of his, there is no room for sabotage. You must be as perfect as the lead actor of the play and act accordingly, for should you try to dispose of the mask… Well, let’s just say that your extremely modest clothes were not chosen with the purpose of hiding your virtues.

Deliberately or not, though, The Balladeer misses the entire point. Given his cynicism, it’s probably the latter – he is not delusional, he is simply incapable of believing in the goodness and benevolence of people’s hearts. Be they Fatui or of as plain origins as you, his unpleasant experiences persuaded him of the ignorance and selfishness of humankind; in his flawed worldview, no one is going to steal you away from him because you have nothing valuable to give to them (even your body, irreparably scarred and marked by him, has long since lost its initial price). He refuses to acknowledge the presence of chivalry in certain individuals’ souls, for every single two-legged abomination populating this realm is here after the gain, after the thrill of seizing a treasure worthy of their ambitions, and that’s precisely why the “risk is minimal” and not nonexistent; that’s why the performance must go on and only end when you enter his chambers at night. 

Because someone might want to obtain you under the pretense of saving you. Because someone might gift you false wings and then tear them off for shits and giggles. Because someone might ache for the opportunity to spite him, and you would be naïve enough to fall for any trick. 

Suspicions will still be raised and doubts will still emerge, sure. There will be smart ones who shall silently question the masquerade and scrutinize your every move; there will be nosy ones who shall notice the stiffness of the rehearsed lines and catch the glimpse of uneasiness in your eyes, and there will be brazen ones who shall openly interfere with your relationship and pay with their life. Scaramouche doesn’t deny the possibility of this happening – he is too paranoid to be that offensively oblivious. What he does deny, however, is the existence of selfless motive because rectitude is not inherent to any living being.

It is the quality of the dead, after all. It would be in your best interest to trust Scaramouche and embrace his truth… The truth that no such color as “white” is present in Teyvat: it’s all black powder that poorly imitates the crystals of sugar, a chocolate house made of bitter bars. You must understand that if you don’t dance to The Balladeer’s tune, then you shall dance to someone else’s; ‘tis the fate of the cornered mouse who stubbornly chases after the piece of the invisible cheese. There is no escape out of the cats’ den, for no cat grants freedom to its prey – and luckily for you, he is the type of cat who favors his mouse safe and well-fed as long as she dispels his boredom and loneliness.

The final feast shall eventually come. But will you be able to survive the last yet desperate bite of his fangs?

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.

Okay so maybe I'll give a couple headcanons about yandere! Sugar daddies!!

Nepobaby! Scaramouche who isn't the least bit upset that he's known for his very successful mother. Brandishing his money and power, he laughs in the face of those who tell him that he isn't self made. He laughs because he doesn't care. Known for controversy and being bratty, he's not an easy person to even be in the same room with. But he has a particular love for taunting you. The first time he picks you up in one of his fancy cars, you're trembling. He loves the taking pity on you, the poor college student struggling to get by, flashing money on your face. Taking you to places he knows you can't even dream of afford to spend a year's worth of your salary on lavish. It's almost crazy that someone so rich and powerful seems obsessed with your time, bombarding your phone with practically hundreds of texts and calls if you're even an hour late, quick to tell you how important he is. You can't afford to live without you, he tells you, you need his money. You need him.

CEO! Diluc who is self made, but humble regardless. Running a big corporations all by himself is quite a lonely job, he explains to you, which is why a man such as himself if willing to pay for companion ship. He's the epitome of a gentleman, not even asking for intimacy even after months of dates and thousands of dollars spent on you. Diluc says that he just enjoys your company, but even that gets to be a bit much. What was initially started as you just seeing him for dates on weekends became spending the days at his house and even sitting in his office while he filed documents. He just enjoys seeing you there, making you quit your job and even school, saying that he can support you so they're not necessary. Even with your large paycheck, you feel as if what he wants is too much, but mentioning this means your met with soft spoke harsh comments, implying that you're ungrateful for all that was given to you.

Hi there! So excited your requests are open <3 What do you think Scaramouche would be like with a darling that has panic attacks? I've only had them when I'm seriously distressed, upset, or stressed, which I think a darling of his would be quite.. often. I feel AWFUL during and after them, just ill. I can't see him being nice (only sorta kind of you'd have to look under a microscope quasi-nice if something REALLY bad happened) or forgiving if this happened in company (my worst nightmare).

Title: Cracked [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Synopsis: You have a panic attack at the worst possible time.

Word count: 1221

notes: yandere, forced marriage, panic attacks

By the time that you’re hauled out of the room, by the time that Scaramouche’s unrelenting grip on your arm bruises your skin as he pulls you into your bedroom, it’s too late to salvage the evening. The guests were not doubt chattering and alarmed, if they hadn’t already been shooed out of the estate by the guards and servants. They must be shaking as much as you were.

But you can’t think about them, or the guests, or even the way that you messed up tonight. You can’t even think about the pain in your arm, or the way that bruises are surely blossoming under his fingertips at this very moment.

You can’t think at all. It’s all too much. You can feel the cold sweat trickling down your back, budding at your hairline like morning dew, though it was nowhere near as charming. Your heart skitters along, and you wonder if you might die; and that wondering only makes it beat faster, only makes you lose your balance, stumbling on shaking legs.

You don’t go far, because his grip is so tight.

You can only just make out the words that he spits at you.

“Are you daft? What’s wrong with you?”

You see his mouth move. You hear the words. But you can’t answer. You can only breathe, deep, heaving breaths that don’t make you feel any less anxious. You want him to let go. You want him to leave you alone.  You want everyone to leave you alone.

That’s how it started--with everyone and everything. Too many people, too many things. Tapestries and flower vases arranged just-so. Your clothing, thick and layered, cumbersome and still foreign on you, though he’d be dressing you up for months now.

You, a perfect doll surrounded by perfect things and watched endlessly by guests, your oppressive husband at your side. Prepare the tea and pour the tea and smile and converse and say the right words and do everything pitch-perfect every time and tilt your head just the right way so that the flickering light from the lanterns reflects off your face to show off your modest yet elegant beauty--do all of these things perfectly because your husband was a Harbringer and if word got out that his wife was an ill-mannered disobedient little thing, he wouldn’t be pleased.

Normally, you were good at this. You had to be. He expected it, and he trained you for it, and all those hours of practicing your poise and your smile and just the right type of conversation that would please your husband without inciting his jealousy would be for nothing if you weren’t a perfect hostess.

But even perfect porcelain can crack. And you tonight, you cracked. Oh, did you ever.

Now, here you were, breaking on the inside and maybe the outside too. Sweating and cold and dizzy and scared and the clothes on your back are too heavy and the smells of the food wafting through the corridor are too rich and your husband’s words, coming at you in irritation and the slightest tinge of concern, are making it worse. You want him to be quiet. You want everything to disappear. You’re smothered, too smothered, and it just won’t stop.

You gulp in great, big heaving breaths as he finally lets go of your arm. You walk backwards and half-fall onto the bed. You dimly register his movements--he’s walking towards the table on the side of the bed, but you can’t fathom what for, and it doesn’t matter when you start feeling like your throat is closing. Is this how you die? Is this--

And then there’s a feeling of cold and wet on your face, a cold shock, and your throat feels like it opens as you sputter.

It’s still in you, that tight oppressive feeling, but now there’s indignation and surprise that begins to overtake it.

Then he’s there, kneeling in front of you--and that imagery might be shocking, if you could think about it more clearly. His hand grips your thighs and your mind hones in on the sensation of his nails digging into your skin.

“Look at me,” he says.

You do. Your lips quiver. Your chest heaves in and out, no longer frantic, but still unsettling.

“Calm yourself.” His voice is firm, and you try to grab onto his words and the sound of his surety. Your mind hooks into it, hooks into the dull pain from his nails, grasping for something to hold onto.

And you do take hold, breathing slower, deeper, and gradually the chilliness ebbs away from your limbs and you become aware of yourself again. Aware that your clothing is not suffocating you, aware that the presence of other people and hand-picked flowers in golden vases is not a portent of doom.

When you breathe normally, when you feel like yourself again, his fingers release from your thighs and he slowly pulls you up--his grip not harsh like before, but firm, steady as his voice had been.

You finally have the nerve to look at him, and the awareness to think about what just happened and what he just did and what it all might mean. His lips are thin and pressed together, and he’s not happy, clearly--but he’s not yelling at you, and you don’t feel the too-familiar sensation of electric crackling in the air as you might have expected.

He almost looks relieved. And that scares you, because it makes you feel relieved, too.

After a few moments, he speaks.

“That was unseemly,” he says. His voice is low.

“I…” you begin, but you have no idea where to take your words. It’s not the first time you’ve felt that creeping, overwhelming anxiety--but it is the first time it happened in front of others, in front of Scaramouche himself. Do you make an excuse? Do you try to explain it? Would he even care, if you did? The thought of opening yourself up even the tiniest bit to your husband and being rejected scares you more than the thought of his wrath, so you decide against it.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, lowering your head. The default words you turn to again and again, whenever you make a mistake.

He scoffs, but says nothing further. Instead, he turns and begins walking away, perhaps to see if the guests had remained behind or to give steely orders to the servants, no doubt waiting and worried about the mood he might be in after such an incident.

You begin to follow, dutiful though not eager, but he waves you off as he begins walking through the open doorway.

 “Stay here. I’ll make your excuses, as flimsy as they might be. That is, if my guests weren’t scared away by your little stunt.”

It should hurt. It should sting, to be dismissed like this. But there’s no real force behind the words.

You watch him go. And--not for the first time since he arranged your relationship--you get the uncanny sense that his words are hollow and meaningless. As if he’s heard others say them and he merely repeats them, as if he does what he’s expected, just as you do what you’re expected.

Sometimes you think, and you think it now, that Scaramouche is an actor reciting lines in a play. Rehearsed and nothing more.

Hi! Could I request hcs abt platonic modern AU Childe reacting to roommate/best friend (gn) reader feeling down and how would he try to cheer them up? Thank you!

cheer up, buttercup

summary: after an awful day, you find yourself in a gloomy mood for no reason. luckily for you, your roommate is here to help cheer you up! well, at least they try to! (it’s the thought that counts)

masterlist

pairing: platonic!childe, scaramouche, and la signora  x reader

reader info: gender neutral pronouns (they/them), reader is their roommate and friend, platonic nicknames (buttercup, idiot)

word count: 966 words

genre: modern au, platonic, comfort

format: headcanons

warnings: toxic positivity (if you really squint) from childe, mentions of scara almost “taking care of” whoever made you sad, swearing, scara grabbing reader’s wrist, signora not understanding why you’re sad, reader is just having an “off” day, reader is sad/cries  

a/n: ahhh! my first request! thank you to the lovely soul who sent this in, sorry it’s so late (your patience is appreciated)💖 i got really inspired and felt like adding two other fatui members, so i hope that’s okay! i really hope this is what you wanted, and i apologise if it isn’t 💖

childe has come home late. again.

he cracked the door open slowly, hoping that if you were asleep he wouldn’t wake you up

as he tip toes into the doorway, he hears some muffled sobbing 

childe looks in the direction it came from, and sees you sitting on the couch crying

on the inside, childe is ready to start a fight with whoever or whatever made you sad

but, childe keeps up the act of being a good and caring friend for your sake (and whoever made you sad, theoretically)

he stops sneaking around and sits down on the couch with you, concern  present on his face

he tries to get you to open up, and at some point stops you from wiping away all the tears that fall down your cheeks

childe keeps asking if you’re okay, if something happened when he was away, and if you wanted some water

you only answer one of his questions, and childe quickly goes to the kitchen for a glass

when he does return, you’ve calmed down a bit and taken some deep breaths

once again childe asks if you’re okay and if something happened while he was away

when you do eventually open up, childe just listens and nods. a few times he refrains from commenting and interrupting you, understanding that it’s your turn to speak

after you’re all done talking, childe smiles at you

he suggest going out some lunch and shopping tomorrow, assuring you that’ll he would pay

when you agree, childe breaks out into an ecstatic grin

“Alright! Now, let’s get you ready for bed. I have some big plans for us tomorrow, buttercup. We’re going to have so much fun that you’ll forget all about your worries. I promise.”

[scaramouche and la signora under the cut]

scaramouche was really late coming home, but he didn’t really care at all

you both have horrible sleeping habits, and he just knew you’d still be awake

which was enough for scara to go into a long-winded rant about how shitty his day was

you swore that he could wake up the neighbours with how loud he got

by the time scara finished putting away his coat and boots as he ranted, he finally looked over to you for a reaction

what he saw was something... unexpected

you were... crying? why? what happened? did someone hurt you?

hundreds of thoughts were going through his head, freezing him in place

but he finally snapped out of it when you began to apologise and started to wipe away your tears

scara grabbed your wrist, trying to stop you from covering up your emotions

for once, scara has this human look in his eye 

he sits down next to you and asks- no, demands you tell him who or what hurt you

if you just explain to him that you’re just feeling sad, he’ll calm down 

scara was prepared to send out a few goons after someone, but he stuffs his phone away before you can see that

he’ll hold off from insulting you, as its his natural instinct, and begrudgingly ask if you could talk about it

when scara shuts up, he is a surprisingly good listener. he nods along and does his best not to interrupt

once you finish talking, scara has this fierce look in his eye 

he wishes that you could have talked about this sooner with him, but scara does understand that it’s difficult to do that

he’s not the best at comforting others, and usually just applies what works for him onto others

and luckily for scara, a trip to McDoanld’s at three am in the morning works just as well on you as it does him

“Come on, let’s go, in the car. No, this isn’t a kidnapping, idiot. This is called “me taking care of my friend.” Now if you want McDoanld’s, hop in the car already.”

signora was actually just having some coffee, taking in the silence after a long day of work

then you come sulking past the kitchen doorway, straight to your room

she’s a bit surprised, she didn’t even realise you had come home yet

and something wasn’t right. usually you would at least say hi to her and grab a cup of coffee, but you straight out ignored her

signora is a bit offended, i mean, she was actually going to make you a cup of coffee just now to welcome you home and you just ignored her? how dare you

she stomps over to your room, ready to give you a piece of her mind when she hears sniffling through your door

signora halts, and before she can stop herself she whispers your name

it’s not that signora hates comforting people... but she hates comforting people

but you’re her friend and roommate, she has no choice but to make an exception 

signora leans against the door as she asks you to open up emotionally, taking a large sip of her coffee

while you talk, all she does is nod, hum, and sip. 

she does secretly think to herself that it’s ridiculous that you’re sad without reason. signora tries to help you find a reason, but you just openly admit that you’re just feeling really sad... for no reason

signora doesn’t get it at all, but she tries for you

when you’ve finished, she’s trying to think of something (anything really) that could easily solve your problem and brighten your mood

but nothing comes to her mind that would help you

“Look, I don’t really know how to comfort people. This is kind of hard for me, but I’m more than willing to try and help you. Just...  just tell me what you need and its yours, okay? Great. Now will you please come out and say hi to me, I missed you today!”

thank you for reading 💖 all forms of interaction to my posts are appreciated 💖

Lotus Eater. Yan Scaramouche x Reader

Warnings: Spoilers for Archon Quest Chapter II Act III, yandere themes, some not SFW themes, and unhealthy relationships.  Word count: 1.6k. Note: i just wanted to write simpmouche for a change. 

You’re happy with him.

Not the superficial kind of happiness that’s fleeting as a breeze in the meadow. How you regard him — it seeps into your veins, into the recesses of your soul — and extends beyond feeling itself. The pitter-patter of hearts in the newfound throes of love, while still present, has been taken over by something more meaningful. Something promising. A silent acknowledgment of trust and belonging.

You’re happy with him.

His fingers, so familiar with your body, touch you with a tenderness that doesn’t betray his inner hunger.

He wants to ravish you, yet he always stops just shy of doing so. Behind his eyes lies a chained beast, salivating and desperate to be unleashed so it may devour you in your entirety, leaving no sign that you ever existed. One might ask, what would make a beast more frightening than it already is? To that, you would reply: the beast which holds the key to freedom but has enough forbearance not to use it until the time is right.

You’re happy with him.

Keep reading

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: platonic yandere content, implied child neglect, reader's parents are bad

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Day twenty eight: Running away from home

"Hi, little one!" You say to the tiny fairy. The sound of bells left her mouth and as usual you don't understand what she say, as humans can't really speak fairy language but you are used to it and smile at her anyway.

"Lilia said that if I ever needed, I could ask you to take me to him. So, can you show me the way, please?"

She made a face, pretending to think, while your heart was beating loudly as the seconds go by. She made another sound and then held your pinky with her whole tiny hand, making you walk quickly to follow her lead, as her little wings worked harder and faster.

Around you, the forest stretched out before you like a green and mysterious blanket, birds flying and chirping around you, along with squirrels who sometimes crossed your path to offer you some fruits and nuts.

Other people could only dream of getting to know the forest like you did, of discovering its most curious secrets and the best corners for picnics and playing hide and seek.

The winds welcomed you, gently caressing your face with its invisible fingers as you ran along a muddy path, your yellow galoshes stained brown. You had explored that forest since you were pretty younger, you had cried and laughed with your fae friends - especially Lilia. The older fae pretty much raised you when your parents were too busy fighting each other.

The almost setting sunlight hit the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground. Your fae friends, magical creatures you had known since you were a child, seemed to be hiding much deeper into the forest today.

This forest was like your second house and you were happy to be back each and every time. And this time, you would not go back. Things got too bad to bear. You couldn't handle it anymore.

You couldn't handle the screaming and crying, and the fights. You couldn't handle being ignored.

And sometimes, they hid themselves to tire you out and convince you to stay the night. They would never have to do this again, for you didn't plan to ever return "home" now.

Sometimes, they used to do that just to play games or take a nap without being disturbed by human presence - lazy faes, you used to thought, they could just cast some spell or something but they almost never did it. They liked teasing and scaring humans too much.

You stopped running when the little fairy did. She waved you goodbye as she flew away, the sound of bells echoing in the silent forest, a thin bead of sweat running down your forehead as you took a deep breath.

And Lilia really liked to spoil you to the point of being suffocating. You suppose it was because you were a human, a mortal and ephemeral being in his eyes.

And yet, a member of his little family.

Sometimes you would hear playful laughter or the sound of branches breaking, but when you turned around there was no one there. Lilia was definitely in the mood to tease you today and it didn't seem like Silver or Malleus were around to stop him from continuing. A soft smile appeared on your lips. For someone so old and wise as he claimed to be, Lilia could be so silly.

They looked like they hadn't aged a single day in the past five years. And you remembered the time when you were a young child lost in those forests, confused and afraid, and crying inconsolably about how no one would find you. You remembered Lilia's gentle touch on your head and his gentle smile as he wiped your tears with his fingers or the way he held your hand as he led you out of the forest.

In the distance, a soft glow caught your attention. Running in that direction, you emerged into a dark clearing. The sun had set very quickly or perhaps it was Malleus's powers acting to conceal their presence, the forest you were in, despite being beautiful, had a reputation for being haunted by dangerous and treacherous fae.

The same fae in front of you.

The same fae who taught you how to dance, how to escape making a deal with a fae. Who treated you so gently, like you were made of glass.

The next day you returned. After telling the story to your parents, they didn't believe it and said you were dreaming. But you knew it wasn't. You walked purposefully through the forest, trying your best to retrace your steps as you also forced yourself to remember the way back home.

That day, you met Malleus, tall and stern, and dressed in black and green, and you asked if you could touch his horns. He laughed so hard he cried. But in the end, he let you touch his horns while he listened to you chatter about his father, making a comment or two sometimes.

Somehow, you felt like he looked more fae than human, sometimes the necklace he wore around his neck glowed and he had such a gentle, comfortable aura. Instead of sharing the sweets with Lilia, Malleus and Silver, you ended up falling asleep with the platinum boy under a willow tree. When you woke up that day, you were at the entrance to the forest, covered with palm leaves serving as a blanket.

In the days that followed, you brought them sweets. Your mother had told you that if you made a friend, you should share food with them so you wanted to do so, you brought so many sweets that they kept falling out of your pockets and you had to bend down to pick them up. This time, the one who came to your aid was Silver, he was also a human, but he told you that his biological parents had abandoned him in that forest and then a fae decided to take care of him.

Humans can be worse than fae, he told you. And his tone was full of pain as if he was older than he actually looked like.

Sebek, you met after running away from home for the first time. Your parents were fighting for some stupid reason again and it made you so stressed. You kicked every stone you found on the way and grimaced every time the sun touched your face with its rays. Everything in the world seemed boring and cruel that day. You, however, took your mind off it as you were captured in a trap, steel wires binding your legs together and pulling you up until you were suspended in the air.

But the sweets were gone. That night, you dreamed of big red eyes watching you sleep in the dark, but they were gentle and protective eyes, as if they wanted to guard your sleep.

To thank you for the sweets, for making friends with Silver and Malleus.

To this day you don't remember what Sebek was hunting or trying to do, but the story still made you laugh, especially because he was more panicked than you, screaming and shaking. And when Lilia came to his aid, he was also laughing at the situation.

Five years later and it still feels like nothing has changed. Silver had in his hands an ancient and delicate lyre, his fingers plucking his strings in a peaceful rhythm as if inviting his listener to relax and let go of their worries. He once tried to teach you how to play, but you didn't have much talent for it, preferring to listen rather than play.

And it was always a beautiful sight to watch him play, he was ethereal in those moments, as if he was playing a secret song that the world has forgotten, a song that made your heart inside your chest spin.

That called you. That made you feel welcome.

Malleus and Sebek, however, had no such concern and danced arm in arm and spinning in circles. It was a silly and fun dance, and at that moment, you wished you had your cell phone with you so you could register it forever, but you had quickly left the house and forgotten it.

The music was addictive, your body almost moving to the beat. But you stopped yourself in time, knowing that Lilia would offer you to dance with him, he always did because he knew you couldn't accept it. Dancing with a fae is like a drug, one that you don't have a medicine for and that once you try it nothing else in the world makes sense.

And whenever you would agree to dance with him, he'd go on and on without ever stopping.

Well, you'd have to commit this entire precious moment to your memory then, you suppose.

They noticed his presence almost immediately and Silver nodded his head in greeting as he played the last notes of his song.

After finishing their dance, Malleus came to you and, as he always did, wrapped you in a warm hug that instantly makes you melt. Your face sinking into his chest as he stole any and all worries you might have been harboring within yourself to him. A long sigh left your lips and you looked at him fondly.

"Any news to tell us, Yuu?" He asked.

So many things. More things than you could think of at that moment. School, new friends, new changes, everything was new and completely terrifying, and you were abandoning everything. Because it wasn't worth it.

There in that hug that ended very quickly, with those beings that everyone had an irrational fear against, you were at home. You were free to be who you were without any fear of possible rejection from them.

"Too much to say, not enough time for everything." You replied, a little laugh present in your voice. You held onto his shirt, silently asking for another hug and giving him your best puppy eyes, and Malleus, laughing, enveloped you into another of his warm hugs.

"But... I ran from home, this time for good." Your voice was muffled against Malleus shirt.

Sebek was beside you in a moment, and your ears hurt from anticipation. "What do you mean by that, little human?"

You winced, your lips wobbling as you tried not to cry. You failed in getting your voice steadier. "Mom and dad were fighting again... They were screaming, and there was crying, and at some point, they were breaking stuff. And they blamed me for everything, even if i didn't have any fault at all."

Malleus’s eyes widened, and his hands tightened over your shoulders, not out of anger, but out of a fierce, protective desperation. His sharp eyes softened as he saw the tears brimming in yours, the way you were trying so hard to hold them back, to not show any sign of weakness.

You fell into silence, too afraid to cry to continue speaking. When you cried while your parents were fighting, they used to belittle and mock you.

Your mom used to say that her life would be better without you in it.

But to him, there was nothing weak about your tears. It made his chest ache to see you so small and fragile, curling into yourself like you wanted to disappear. He tightened his hug over your figure.

“They blamed you?” Sebek repeated, his voice low and dangerous, as if he could scarcely believe it. “How dare they? Those insolent—” He stopped himself, his fangs bared for a moment before he managed to calm down. He could feel his rage bubbling, but he knew that anger would not help you right now.

“You are not at fault, little human. You never were.” He said softly, through gritting teeth.

You glanced up at him, trying to find comfort in his words, but the hurt you ignored for so long ran too deep. “But they said—”

“They were wrong!” Sebek’s voice boomed, making you flinch, but he immediately softened, realizing he was scaring you. He lowered his voice, though it still held a fierce intensity. “You should never have to bear such cruelty. Your worth does not depend on their words, and I won’t let you believe it does.”

“You don’t have to go back to them,” Sebek said, and there was a finality in his tone, a vow that left no room for argument. “You can stay here, on the woods, where no one can hurt you.”

The forest was quiet, save for the sound of your shaky breathing, and you felt the weight of their gaze on you, unwavering and heavy with emotion. Sebek didn’t always understand humans, but he understood enough to know that you needed protection, and he would do anything to provide it, as would Melleus and Simver.

Anything to make you feel safe, even if it meant guarding you from the very people who were supposed to love you.

You blinked at him, surprised by how quickly he made the decision for you, but a part of you felt relieved, a part of you were afraid they would send you away. “But… I won't be a burden?”

From behind Sebek, you saw a shadowy figure approaching fast, and in the blink of the eye, you realized who it was. Lilia was walking faster, his presence filling the space, his eyes glowing softly in the dim light. He had heard everything, and there was a sadness there, but also a determination that made your heart skip a beat.

Silver's eyes flashed with something unreadable, almost offended by the mere suggestion. “A burden?!” he exclaimed, his voice rising again before he caught himself, this time gentler but no less insistent.

“You could never be a burden. We—” he paused, his words catching in his throat before he continued, “we care for you. Do you not see that? If you are in pain, we will be there to carry it for you. If you are in need, we will help you. You belong with us.”

“What Sebek and Silver says is true,” He spoke, his voice was commanding, as if every word was a decree. “You are no longer alone, darling. The forest now welcomes you as your home now, as I welcome you into my family and we will not let you face any more of that suffering.”

You instantly melt; the tension leaving your shoulders. Part of you wanted to tell them that you didn’t want to impose, that you didn’t want to drag them into your problems, but another part — a much smaller, quieter part — felt relieved, like you could finally breathe. Like you didn’t have to keep fighting alone.

Lilia appeared beside Malleus, a soft, knowing smile on his lips. “You poor thing,” he said, his voice as light as a lullaby, yet with a hint of sadness. “You’ve been carrying so much weight by yourself, haven’t you? It must have been exhausting. But you don’t have to anymore. We’re here for you.”

Silver's usually sleepy eyes were now wide open and he was fully awake. “If your family can’t see how precious you are, then they don’t deserve you. We’ll take care of you, and you won’t have to worry about going back.”

You felt the weight of their words, the way they seemed so sure, so unyielding in their determination to keep you safe. It was overwhelming, and for a moment, you couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. They spilled down your cheeks, hot and unbidden, and before you could even try to wipe them away, Sebek took you from Malleus’s arms and into his.

His arms were firm and steady around you. “There, there, little human,” he murmured, his voice gentler than you’d ever heard it. “Cry if you must, but know this: you are not alone anymore. Not now, not ever.”

Malleus stepped closer, placing a hand on your head, his cool fingers brushing against your hair. “We will keep you safe,” he said softly, his tone carrying a promise that echoed through the room. “And if anyone dares to hurt you again, they will face our wrath. As the fae king, I promise you this.”

It was a strange feeling... To be surrounded by so much protectiveness. They were intense, determined. And you had been aching for something like this for so long — to be wanted, to not be a burden.

You leaned into Sebek’s embrace, your sobs slowly subsiding as the warmth of their presence surrounded you. Maybe it was wrong to feel comforted by this, but right now, you didn’t care. All you wanted was to believe that, for once, you could let go and be cared for, without fear or hesitation.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but they heard it. And in that moment, you felt the unspoken promise between you and them solidify, a bond that was as fierce as it was unbreakable.

For better or worse, you were theirs now, and nothing in this world — or any other — would change that.

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! ♡

Yandere! Noble! Scaramouche x GN! Reader (Arranged Marriage)

A/N: hey look first post!!!! this blog is basically just a place to dump my thoughts on yanderes and situations w them// if you’re not comfortable w that, please leave!!! this is not the place for you

GN reader but!!! the word “bride” is used once so do w that what you will .

remember, this is a mature blog !!! don’t like don’t read!!!!!!!!

warning(s): male! yandere, toxic relationships, slightly narcissistic yandere, verbal abuse, child neglect, arranged marriage, toxic behavior, bad parenting skills, loneliness, obsession, yandere scaramouche, scaramouche is his own warningetc. etc.

Synopsis: there’s this specific scenario ive been thinking of lately : an enemies to lovers, but with a yandere that is particularly bitter and hasn’t really experienced an unconditional love before but then his initial hatred of you turns into an obsession. I thought scara was perfect for it :)

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neither of you had wanted to get married; you, the child of the last bloodline of a falling noble family, and scaramouche, heir to one of the wealthiest and most prestigious names in the empire, would have never been pushed to marry under normal circumstances. it could only be assumed that fate had revealed its hand and placed its destiny upon you.

you had never even met the young man that society had branded as ruthlessly curt with a lash-like tongue. you had never expected to, considering how far apart you were, in different circles and in different worlds

he was the duchess’ nephew and only heir, and was untouchable in both stature and power. in contrast, your family name was declining rapidly. you knew why your mother and father had accepted the marriage proposal the day it came, and you knew why they decide not to tell you until the letter in reply had already been sent. you had no say in the matter

how you parents arranged a marriage between the two of you? well, you could certainly guess; noble ladies gossiped and gasped about the young man who was rich with a handsome face, but with an incredibly arrogant personality and a razor tongue that both reflected his wit and endless scorn. you thought that the rumors must have been over exaggerated, as they always were, but for the duchess to have to reach out to your family to find a spouse for her son? had all the other contestants being rejected, and now they were picking through the scraps that were left? or perhaps, had they rejected him?

now, you weren’t so sure

even then, some part of you had never thought they would agree to something like this; they had concluded that this was what was best for you, had even told you that you will live a much happier life if you were in a household that wasn’t always on the edge of crumbling and giving way to time; you could see that they did have the best of intentions. and still, you felt betrayed

unbeknownst to you, at the time, your fiancé had felt the same way toward his mother; the expression of his feelings on the matter, however, included a lot more yelling and rage in his questions as to why he was being dragged into this. he was used to being disappointed, but being so blatantly used?

unfortunately, scaramouche’s defiance was only met with a cold silence and a blank stare, and after he had vehemently denied to go along with the marriage, his mother had only said that nothing could be done. he had no choice in the matter.

and the gentle glint in her eyes, that had still remained their after all these years, that stayed as she firmly reprimanded him, only served to make him more furious.

and so, his resentment for you, the other victim in this situation, came naturally.

when he met you for the first time, his regularly crass and sarcastic attitude only got worse. you could see the embarrassment dawn on both your parents’ and his mother’s faces, cringing every time his voice got a little too loud or when he said something particularly blunt. he made snide comments on your upbringing, your title, even your clothing wasn’t spared the ruthless bite of his words. between his curt and cold attitude and your futile attempts at making conversation, you two didn’t exactly hit it off when you first met

and then, when you finally got sick of it and told him what exactly you thought of his words and his money and where he could shove them, his resentment turned into something much more personal: spite.

he reasoned that he had every right to hate you. to be overly rude and childish whenever you so much as got the idea to be five feet near him. he never asked for the marriage. he doesn’t care about how much it would benefit the two of you, and he’s long past trying to finally please his mother into loving him, so why should he have to act like the perfect husband for someone who is below him?

your parents seemed to love you plenty though. if their guilty eyes and shifty glances were anything to go by. even if they were shamelessly grabbing at the wealth and prestige of another family, he could tell that this marriage was meant for you and your future. even if you didn’t want it. even if you seemed to dread it. every time they brought you over for a scheduled date in the lonely garden at the back of the duchess’s estate, there seemed to be a subtle pain in their eyes.

perhaps, a paternal regret at having to make their child miserable so that they could eventually have the things they weren’t able to give them.

…well, it gave him more reason to torment you.

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there seemed to be no way out of the awkward meetings. your parents were hell bent on having scaramouche as your husband, and his mother was just as determined. so, when you did have to suffer through seeing each other, you kept trading thinly veiled insults, practically sulking every time you heard the others name, and bickering with the each other at every opportunity. it became a familiar routine for the two of you, to not get along and verbalize your frustrations through jabs and taunts

strangely enough, scaramouche grew fond of the bickering. you were practically the only person who would speak to him so casually. with so little respect and without fear of him blowing up. he thought it was refreshing. no one hardly ever talked to him anymore, and even a child that had everything and more could not curb his own loneliness by himself…he would never tell you that, though.

he thought that at least it was entertaining to tease you. actually, if you weren’t so annoying, he might have actually gone as far to say it’s pleasant having you in his company. It certainly beats the large, lonely house he had to wander every day.

plus, when was the last time he had talked this much? when someone had looked at him and acknowledged his existence without him having to work for it?

—————————

as the engagement progressed, you two ended up spending hours together every week, whether you wanted to or not, and while you were mentally and emotionally exhausted from the stress your parents were putting you through, he’s looking forward to your meetings like they’re the highlight of his week…it’s ridiculous, he thinks, and he thinks, and he thinks, and oh god now he can’t get you out of his head.

then suddenly, you’re calling it off. the whole engagement. miraculously, you guilted your parents into going back on what they had agreed to.

his mother is appalled and frustrated, a bit exasperated now that she has to find another suitable bride for her son.

scaramouche is beyond furious.

he goes quiet with rage. he’s more snappish now, towards the maids, towards everyone. his attitude is no longer his usual arrogance and crudeness. his usual bitterness rose into an explosive temper and ruthless training just to keep himself confined to a state of sanity. there is, once again, for the first time in many, many years, an unmistakable fear of abandonment that is raging in his head. he feels so wronged.

and it’s your fault.

and then, he goes silent. if they thought it was bad when he talked, see what they think when he’s quiet.

for his mother, it’s unnerving. to the servants, it’s downright terrifying.

no one realizes that he’s calculating. no one really expects it. everyone assumed this was one big temper tantrum after suffering a huge blow to his pride.

scaramouche was really only clutching his shattered heart after giving it to someone who threw it away.

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what he wants at first is revenge.

that’s what he wants to think he wants. he wants to make things even between the two of you; make you suffer like you made him. force his way into your mind in the worst way possible, and keep himself there to get the message across.

for the first few agonizing days after the annulment, he thinks; maybe that he should tamper with your parents businesses and make you a pauper, someone who is reduced to having to take care of their parents after you fall from the graces of society. and then, after that, he’s hoping you’d come crawling back to him, and ask for his help and his hand. and he’d oh-so graciously accept you back into his life; not before making you beg for it, though.

then again, perhaps toying with whatever lover you have would be a good way to get back at you. he just assumes that you have one, because you must, for you to just abandon him like that.

you should have just stayed.

either way, he’s going to make you regret it.

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it doesn’t take much for scaramouche to convince his mother to have a much needed talk with your parents.

and despite everything she’s done, ei does want to make her son happy. she wasn’t blind after all; he’s always seemed to be on edge, ever since the accident, but he had changed in the short amount of time he had know you. the boy she had failed to raise and care for, someone who was now so far out of her reach, seemed to be more calm and content when you were by his side. it had been a long time since she had seen her nephew look forward to something this much.

whether you want the engagement or not matters less to her.

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and so, your resistance all comes apart so easily. Ei is one of the most powerful people in the empire, so it doesn’t take much effort before she’s luring your parents into throwing you back to them and into scaramouche’s waiting arms. It would be the least she could do as his mother

it’s only a matter of time before you’re resting in the palm of his hand once again; the engagement is back on, running smoothly towards your fast approaching wedding, like your little rebellious mishap never even happened

scaramouche is reveling in it. he feels as though he’s won. and in truth, he has. he imagines the look on your face, how you’ll have to greet him eventually, look him in the eyes after tossing him to the side and then losing, and thinks about how he’s going to make your reunion as painful as possible when you do meet again

his wishes are fulfilled when not even a month later are you pushed into the expansive garden by servants and abandoned by them even quicker, watching them scurry away with pale but oddly relieved faces. once again, you were meant to suffer through another lunch date after you thought you had finally escaped and left the gloomy estate behind forever.

the familiar stone pathway and expansive flora only served to bring back bad memories of your failed attempt to gain your freedom and reminded you of what you would have to look forward to for the rest of your life. it’s only the scuffle of boots against the ground that brought you back to reality.

you knew exactly who was standing behind you.

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when scaramouche saw you standing there, muscles taught and shoulders tensed as you refused to look at him, he took his time observing you, savoring the moment and committing it to memory.

his slow and deliberate footsteps did little to calm your fraying nerves. You were both surrounded by tall hedges and the gentle sound of water coming from nearby fountains. no one else was around. You were completely isolated, with only your fiancé- no, your crazed future husband- keeping you company.

and as always, his presence was suffocating.

“you know, trying to run away from me was cute, but it got annoying after the joke was over. did you really think you could go against a duchy? don’t make me laugh.” his voice had a high and condescending lit to it that seemed to grate against your ears. your stony facade crumbled soon after, instantly revealing the confusion and panic that welled in your chest.

“…why did you do it?” your voice came out hoarse and low. you whirled around, finally looking into those violet eyes. scaramouche felt a shiver of excitement run up his spine as your watery gaze met his.

“you hated this engagement just as much as I did. why did you drag me back here? we both could’ve been free.” a bitter laugh escaped your throat that pathetically choked off into a sob.

he laughed lowly as his head titled down, shielding his eyes from you. the sight made you shudder involuntarily.

“‘drag you back?’ deary, you belong to me. you did the moment I decided I wanted you. what you want doesn’t matter anymore. You don’t know what’s good for yourself, clearly.”

when he lifted his head back up to meet your eyes, he was smiling. the soft turn of his lips wasn’t full of cruelty or malice, scorn or hatred, and somehow that made the uncharacteristically gentle look so, so much worse.

scaramouche picked up your limp hand, gently turning it over, and slipped a ring onto it. it was like putting a heavy shackle on a caged bird; it was needless and unnecessary, you were already trapped. the world did not need anything else but the duchess’s final word to let everyone know who you belonged to.

but, as you stood there staring blankly ahead, you noticed scaramouche seemed genuinely happy to see the band resting on your finger.

the smile he wore turned more playful, more mocking, as those piercing eyes looked at you as if you were pitiful and small, beneath him, something that needed guidance

and his purple eyes locked with yours as he slowly pulled you to him and brought you into a soft kiss.

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“Give me your love. Give me your validation. Hand yourself over to me, body, mind, and soul.”

“And what if I don’t want to?”

“Darling, do you think you have a choice?”