“Kuni, Let Me Sleep In For Just A Bit Longer. Let Me Be Lazy, Just For Today?” For Scaramouche?

Being on a hot springs vacation with Lilia and Malleus was a rather daring endeavor. (18+, minors dni. Gender neutral.)

Crowds were spread out in cliques, in a seemingly empty corner sat the two fae and yourself inbetween...

Your face red and not from the warm and relaxing water, but from the hands that naughtily caressed you beneath the water. Malleus was tall and able to shield you from prying eyes, whilst Lilia pulled you into his lap and nibbled your ear.

"You musn't make a sound, little bat," Lilia purred seductively into your ear. You were distracted by the large hands that touched your inner thigh and teased your most sensitive parts, Malleus chuckling at the twitching and trembling of your body.

"You look to be in pure bliss right now," Malleus pointed out with your hazy eyes staring at him with little thought through the wafting steam, "I wonder how long until someone hears the way you allow two fae to violate you in such a public space..." You let out a high pitch whimper as Lilia bit down on your neck then same time as Malleus teased your gentiles skillfully with his fingers leaving you tingling from head to toe.

You felt your heart leap out of your chest once the sound escaped your dirty lips- sobering up from the pleasure quickly attempting to wiggle out of Lilias grasp and frantically looking to see if anyone had noticed. Malleus used his other hand to roughly grab you by the cheeks and look him into his lustful glowing green eyes, his smile mischiveous and plotting.

"Careful, my treasure. Or are you perhaps hoping someone finds us out? Hmm? Are you interested in being displayed as ours?" He turned your head to bite your cheek before Lilias hands had pulled you back down into his lap once more, the water swooshing around with the movement causing your heart to thump at the noise it made.

"Oh no need to be so mean, the poor thing is trembling...." Lilia used his tongue to lick the nape of your neck, then planting a kiss upon your shoulder.

"They will be quiet now, won't you?" You nodded obediently before settling back down into their touch and melting between the heat making you dizzy and the pleasure leaving you breathless. It was cute, watching you bite back moans with every new touch they put upon your body. Just the idea of being caught only aroused you more, almost leaving you whimpering and grinding against Malleus's hand for more of a release. Afraid of being caught, however, left you hesitating and on edge simply waiting to see how much further they would go beneath the hidden protection of the springs steam and the others distractions.

Over and over they made it abundantly clear punishment awaited you for everytime a sound you made could be misconstrued and leave you in trouble.

What they wouldn't tell you, however, was the spell Malleus placed masking the three of you completely from strangers gazes.

As well as the "punishment" that awaited you back in the room they had rented <3

~~~

@masquerade-of-misery you can thank Nessy for this wonderful idea <3 heuheuehu.

.⁠ ｡⁠*⁠♡ request: May I request Sebastian and Lilia Vanrouge as reader’s father figure, pretty please?

.⁠ ｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: i really like papa lilia, i just know that he would take very good care of the reader if he had the opportunity to adopt you lol. Well, I hope you like it anonie! Also Sebbys part here.

It’s faerie custom to steal human children for themselves, so the first moment your eyes met in the cafeteria he knew he needed to keep you close. I mean, you were a cute little thing that was brought into a world where you didn’t know anything or anyone. A cute little thing that managed to hold Lilia’s attention and focus, and he just can’t help but be in awe of your strength and courage.

Keep reading

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! ♡

Listen, I have been doing a lot of gen-z jokes lately that my friends are so done with me, so like what abt a reader that tells deez-nutz jokes all the time.

Ace definitely is with reader on the deez-nutz jokes. Terrorizing everyone in the mansion with deez-nutz jokes with Ace is now your favorite hobby.

Yes I am projecting rn.

🎲Anon

What if I told you the Gen Z!MC request I’m writing may or may not be exclusively these kinds of jokes. One of my friends too, started making deez nuts and ur mom jokes, and like a disease, it spread to the whole group. It is truly a curse upon this world.

You’re completely right, it would be Ace that joins you on this treacherous journey, the two of you coming to share one singular brain cell . Everyone else in the mansion is sick and tired of it, literally in physical pain when they’re around you two. Those who are able to leave have. Vil has taken on 10 new projects just to get away from this.

Even your other friends are traumatized after you get them with a sick “who’s candice” “can-deez nuts fit in your mouth” joke. Epel died a little inside. Deuce found it a bit funny the first time but is now reconsidering all his life choices.

The only one who can tolerate them is Lilia, who will be giggling while everyone else is stays suffering.

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?

Do you think yan Scaramouche would ever actually be nice to his darling? or if there's any situation in which he'd be nice?

I think he has a very twisted view on what is "being nice" to reader. In his mind, it's nice of him to give you this lavish lifestyle (that you don't want and were forced into, in some way); it's nice of him to spend time training you on the expectations for how to behave, raising you above your station; it's nice of him not to threaten you or hit you for the smallest disobedience, something he doesn't mind doing to others, and yes if you go too far or you're in a pattern of unruliness he will physically "discipline you" as he sees fit--but the fact that you get away with any cheek towards him is enough to be deemed kindness in his eyes.

But. Nice...

So I've been tossing an idea around in my head for a while, thanks to some pregnancy reaction headcanons from @ddarker-dreams

tw: pregnancy, miscarriage

I feel like if you had a miscarriage, he would react...

Not kindly, not in the way that some others might. He won't swoop in and hold you and hold you and hold you, comforting you and stroking your back and crying with you, lamenting what has happened.

But he will force himself to be... sensitive. Aware of how what he might say or do could impact you.

Because you're already in a weak medical and emotional state, aren't you? Pregnancy has its perils, and miscarriages as well. And he can't have you getting stress-induced fainting fits or infections or anything like that. He needs to keep you strong enough to stay under his thumb.

So after bringing in a physician to check on you, he will tend to you primarily by himself. He'll wash you without a word, perhaps only to instruct you to lift your arms or move your leg.

I could see a scenario where that same day, perhaps hours later, right before bed, he sits on the end of the bed, and you're exhausted and wracked and sad and deep deep down agonizingly conflicted about everything (do you regret the loss of your child--or perhaps you don't, perhaps you're thinking about what kind of life would that child have had, under Scaramouche) and he just sort of looks at you and then

takes your hand and squeezes.

And in that squeeze there's so much said and unsaid. His own confliction regarding having a child, his own confliction about the loss of the opportunity, the feelings stirred upon seeing you so distressed from an unforeseen incident like this.

He won't say any of it, and maybe you won't even pick up on it. But the gesture itself is pointed and poignant on its own.

Then he gets up and orders a servant to bring you something, a restorative drink, with a snack he knows you like on the tray.

But don't ever say anything about his behavior to him, because it makes him uncomfortable to acknowledge.

And his unusual sensitivity would not last forever. When you're feeling better, when he deems you less fragile, his extra leniency will began to wane. After all, these things happen, don't they--to him, you should be expected to pick up your pieces and continue on.

Hey Lorkai,

Can I request a phoenix Yuu/Reader with a yandere malleus or Lillia. With a bit of angst where a phoenix is basically indistinguishable from a human until they die for the first time.

Btw I really love your writing, it’s amazing

(can I be 🐦‍⬛anon?)

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟa/n: awww thank you, darling, I'm glad you like my works 🥺. And yes, you can be 🐦‍⬛ anon!!!!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟLilia’s fascination with you begins innocently enough — your humor, your warmth, and the strange way you seem to carry yourself as if you've lived for centuries, as if day counted more than the last. But that fascination twists into obsession when he discovers the truth. The first time you die, he’s devastated, grief-stricken to the point of madness, only to witness you rise again, glowing with an otherworldly fire, same face, so soft to the touch, same smile, so innocent and awkward because how do you explain that you are a phoenix?

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟHis relief turns to possessive adoration; you’re not just special — you’re eternal, his eternal little bird. He becomes utterly consumed by the idea that no one else deserves to witness your rebirth, to even know what you are. The thought of you dying again, even temporarily, fills him with dread and rage, and he swears to protect you at all costs. Yet, there’s a part of him that fears: what if one day, after rising from the ashes, you decide not to return to him? What if you forget all about him? So many what ifs...

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟHis doting nature becomes suffocating, his tender words laced with the underlying threat of what he might do to keep you by his side. He marvels at your strength but refuses to see you as anything other than fragile, mortal in all the ways that matter to him. He hovers close, constantly watching, endlessly reminding you that no one else could ever cherish your true self as he does. And though you try to assert your independence, his gaze — heavy with love and an unspoken warning — always pulls you back. After all, what’s one lifetime of freedom to a phoenix when eternity waits for you in his arms? Maybe both of you were meant to be.

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.

Lost Love (2)

Pairings: Wanderer x Reader

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

Word Count: 600+

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

Part 1 | Part 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe this time, he could do things right.