Head Canons Of Sibling Scara Trying To Spend Him Every Waking Moment With Reader???? 🤷

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

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

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

“I’ve got you now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sagacious. Provocative. Challenging.

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

Sly, sly little songbird.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Perhaps we were made for each other." “

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

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

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

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

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

 “How long are you willing to pursue me?”

“Until you submit to me.”

“Then, until you set me free.”

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

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

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

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

Fly away, little singing nightingale.

Hiii~

Can I request aventurine and Dr ratio (separately or together ur choice) with klee reader

Maybe Sunday too?

I just want chaos to unfold-

Take care ☺️

ꜱᴜɴᴅᴀʏ, ᴀᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀɪɴᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴅʀ ʀᴀᴛɪᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴋʟᴇᴇ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

pairings - sunday & klee! reader / aventurine & klee! reader / dr ratio & klee! reader

content - reader is gender-neutral/ klee! reader/ platonic relationships/ familial relationships/ chaos

warnings - a bit of angst (?), might be ooc i'm sorry guys T_T

⋘ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ... ⋙

↻ Whether you met Sunday because you’ve been unknowingly stirring up trouble in the dreamscapes or you met him by chance, he’d be a bit worried and concerned about a child roaming alone in Penacony

↺ He may or may not slowly adopt you into his routine as he always finds himself being greeted by you on the streets of Penacony (or called by a family member because mayhem has been occurring in certain parts of the dreamscapes)

↺ Gazing upon the damage you had done in the dreamscape as you stared at him with wide innocent eyes, he couldn’t be upset with you but rather surprised by how much power this unknown child has

↻ Sunday would be a lot like Jean, but he’d be a little more lenient when it comes to you

↺ He’d probably have a small area/room that’s your designated play area whenever you’re with him and sometimes he’d have to give you a time-out for blowing up something in the dreamscape

↺ Said time out wouldn’t last long as he’d feel guilty looking at your saddened state

↻ Sometimes whenever the other family members had a meeting with Sunday, they would see you playing around with your favorite stuffed animal but wouldn’t dare question your presence (you had quite the reputation for being.. explosive…)

↻ I think when it comes to each character with a Klee! Reader, they’d have those animal backpacks with the leash attached to it just because you’re so chaotic

↺ One moment they would be walking with you and then the next you’ve run off to somewhere that caught your attention

↺ For Sunday’s mental well-being, he got you this backpack to help him keep an eye on you whenever you were distracted

↻ As I mentioned in previous posts, Sunday, whenever he’s anxious or worried for you, would pace around his office with his feathers just puffing up and some of them popping right off due to his stress

↺ When you are found safe and sound, he’d give you a tight hug and you’d start playing with the feathers that were scattered on the ground

↺ He’s.. amused by it

↻ Honestly, Sunday had no idea what to do with you as you were found to be alone and it didn’t seem like you knew any of your family members (Just going to ignore Albedo and Klee’s mother for my sake…)

↺ Eventually, he warmed up to you a lot and considers you his little sister, which Robin also adores having around

↻ Sunday would be very protective of you but a little.. nervous about your abilities, he knew to an extent you were capable of handling things yourself

↺ But you are still a child so he’s extra cautious about the dangers in the dreamscapes and makes sure that you don’t get into trouble

↺ Otherwise, he’d have to confiscate your bombs.. which he really didn’t want to do because then you’d be super upset

↺ He tried to confiscate them one time but that ended up with you ignoring him for the remainder of the day and you were sulking in your playroom

↻ Sunday, during the Charmony Festival, would keep a very close eye on you because of what has been going on within Penacony

↺ He’ll keep you in his line of sight at all times, whether it’s him personally accompanying you around or having you sit near him in his conference room, he wouldn’t want you wandering too far off

↺ You’d find Sunday mumbling to himself while looking at some documents, but you never really understood them so you always stuck to what you were doing

↻ Sunday is very fond of you, and he’d do anything to ensure your safety

-----

Sunday was seated at his conference table, hand holding his chin in thought as he scanned through the multitude of documents. He carefully looked them over and over again, thoroughly reading through the letters written by a family member he assigned an assignment to. 

With the Charmony Festival coming in full swing, Sunday wanted to make sure that things would run as smoothly as possible, despite the growing concern that was nagging him from the depths of his consciousness. He couldn’t afford to become distracted…

That is what he thought, but yet he still found himself engaging in your little antics. Although things were growing busier and busier by the day, he wanted to ensure that you were alright and safe, playing a couple of your games when you pleaded for him to stay. He didn’t find the idea of playing with bombs safe, but if it was what made you happy, then your wish was his command.

As he stood up to roam the halls of his mansion, he gazed out into the open through the grand windows, a million thoughts racing through his mind. The future of Penacony contained countless outcomes and he could only grow restless every time he thought of it. But having you around to distract him from his worries with your silly antics, even if for just a fleeting moment, made him feel as if everything was going to be alright…

He would make sure of that.

-----

↻ Aventurine would also find your chaotic nature interesting, in fact, he might even indulge in it by taking a role in your little schemes

↺ He’d be a little concerned when you go a bit too far with your bombs and antics, so he’d try nudging you into a not-so-concerning situation

↻ Aventurine would find you when you got into a little scuffle with his subordinates, somehow destroying some IPC property and getting an earful from his coworkers

↺ Those IPC grunts would be terrified of you if they saw what you could do, especially because you’re a CHILD playing with BOMBS (They’re seriously concerned about who raised you and why you are the way you are.. or how you even managed to have bombs on you??)

↻ He’d send them off to go do something else (or to go bother someone else..) and bend down to your level to ask about your guardians or caregiver

↺ When you are confused about what he is talking about, his concern would only grow before he’d take you to find a trusted person to watch over you as he was busy with an assignment

↺ However, he would only come back to find that you escaped a worker’s watchful gaze and were playing with that bomb toy you had on you (Docodo? Cododo?? Whatever you said its name was…)

↻ When Aventurine hangs around you a little more during his free time (whether he’s done with work or doesn’t feel up to gambling), inquiring about the little fella you had on you and about your background

↺ He’d kind of take you under his wing from there on out, having you accompany him on missions if he determined they weren’t dangerous and were minor assignments

↺ Topaz would find it surprising seeing him around with a little kid, she’d even be wary about his intentions with you as he had suddenly popped up with a small kid out of nowhere

↺ She’d introduce you to Numby who, to your delight, would play and spend a bit of time with you

↻ Sometimes you’d accompany Aventurine on his casino trips, but he’d try leaving you out of them as it wasn’t really a kid-friendly setting

↺ So sometimes you’d in up in a more appropriate setting like a small daycare where you were safe (yet you’d sometimes pop up next to him in a game and catch him off guard)

↻ Aventurine, as someone with a lot of money to freely spend, would spoil you with a variety of things that he’d think you would like

↺ You aren’t necessarily a spoiled child, but he’d still get you the things that have caught your interest, whether you voice what you liked or not

↻ When he passes by a shop that has a showcase of kid backpacks, he would see one with a plush animal and a leash and he’d automatically get it for you 

↺ You wouldn’t really care about the leash part as you’re too distracted by the cute plush animal backpack, so it really was no problem for Aventurine

↺ He’d be walking around the IPC’s headquarters or Penacony with the backpack leash in his hand, you following him yet straying whenever you saw something

↺ He’d have to give the leash a small tug to make sure you weren’t wandering too far off though

↻ If you did something dangerous such as blowing up something that belongs to the IPC, Aventurine would vouch for you, becoming your partner in crime (Him sending a sly wink your way as you giggle innocently, hands covering your mouth to stifle your laughter) 

↺ Topaz would be the one scolding you before Aventurine tries defending your honor, but then he’d end up getting scolded by her too

↻ Aventurine would try his best to protect your innocence, not wanting you to see the dangers that linger on the different worlds he ends up on or what may invade the IPC’s headquarters

↺ He’s seen and witnessed firsthand hand of losing his innocence at a young age, those memories of his past still haunt him to this day and he doesn’t want you living with the same burden so he tries his best to protect you from danger (even if you’re somewhat capable of protecting yourself)

-----

“_____, did you destroy a piece of the IPC’s belongings again!?” Topaz asked, a stern look on her face as you stood there innocently with your hands tucked behind your back. 

“No… I didn’t do anything I swear! You can even ask Dodoco!” You answered, shoving Dodoco out in front of you as if to emphasize your statement. Topaz sighed, shaking her head.

“_____… I know you want to play around but sometimes you need to be careful of where you are. You could get hurt or, well.. damage things that aren’t yours.” Crossing her arms, Topaz looked at you with a softer gaze. You persisted in your stance. 

“But I swear! I didn’t do it!” You cried out, holding Dodoco closer to your chest. “Y-you can even ask Mr. Aventurine!”

“I heard my name?” Aventurine slinked to the spot right next to you, giving Topaz a questioning yet sly look. Topaz couldn’t help but groan when he popped up next to you, feeling as if she was on the verge of being teamed up against. 

“Mr. Aventurine! Please tell Miss Topaz that I wasn’t the one who blew up some of the IPC’s equipment!” You begged, tugging at his coat as he looked down at you with his cat-like eyes. 

He gave you a closed-eyed smile, patting the top of your head. “Is that what’s going on? Well, I have unfortunate news for you Topaz, as little _____ here was busy helping me out with an assignment.” Aventurine had a smug smile on his face as if to tease Topaz and tick her off, which worked.

Topaz, rolling her eyes, heaved a deep sigh. “Fine, I believe you, _____. You can go run off and play now.” 

With a joyful smile on your face and a cheer, you thanked Topaz before turning to thank Aventurine, bowing slightly with a quiet giggle.

“Thank you Mr. Aventurine! Promise we’ll play next time?” 

“I promise, _____. Now go play with Dodoco in your room, okay? I’ll check up on you later when I’m done with work.” 

“Okay!” 

-----

↻ Dr Ratio wasn’t necessarily fond of children…

↺ He understood that they weren’t the brightest of stars, but he could barely handle some of the behaviors they exhibited

↺ I imagine he’d be so disgusted because of how kids can be known for doing the weirdest stuff… (Picking their boogers, touching a variety of items, being unsanitary... the list goes on)

↻ When he meets you for the first time, he’s curious about the construction of your bombs and how you were able to make them

↺ To his disappointment, you are only able to draw crude drawings of the construction of your bombs and poorly explain how you built them

↺ He takes it upon himself to sample one of your bombs to see what they’re made of and how they’re made

↻ You’d invite him (more like drag him) to help you create and play with your bombs and he’d reluctantly follow you to where your room is

↺ Aventurine walking in on you playing dolls (or your bombs) with Ratio

-----

“How are you doing?”

“Mister Ratio, say it in your girl voice.”

“Sigh… How you doin’? 💅”

*Aventurine laughing before Ratio throws the doll he’s holding at him*

-----

↻ Ratio, knowing him, would tutor you if you went to a daycare or school, helping you understand your homework and teaching you about different subjects

↺ You wouldn’t comprehend half the things he’s teaching you but you follow along anyway

↺ Ratio would be genuinely happy if you were able to learn something new from him and apply it to your life

↻ Ratio is the type of teacher figure to give you random quizzes to test your knowledge and understanding but he rewards you with things like snacks or trinkets he gets from his trips

↻ Ratio would be delighted to talk about his trips to you, explaining the history and geography of the planets he has traveled to you when he comes back

↺ He would draw a small map for you to understand the general location of the places he’s visited

↻ You’d be excited to learn about what places he’s seen and you’d ask him a myriad of questions to which he’d patiently listen and answer 

↺ The thought of Ratio being patient with a young child warms my heart, this is how he’d find out that maybe he can tolerate specific kids

↻ Ratio reading stories to you to help you fall asleep, but those stories would probably be academic books he uses to teach his students

↻ If you were to get in trouble for blowing something up, he’d show his disappointment and sternly give you a punishment that isn’t too harsh on you (he’d give you school work lol)

↺ Ratio would check in on you here and there when you’re in your room, if he finds that you’re asleep he’d tuck you in before looking over your work

↺ This makes me think of Ratio walking in to see that you had drawn him an artwork of the both of you with Dodoco (who he came to know as your prized friend)

↻ Ratio doesn’t have a clue who your parents or guardians are, so he tries to locate them at first to no avail (he ends up pretty much adopting you as his own kid)

↻ Sometimes you’d sit near his desk in his lecture hall when he was teaching his students, swinging your legs back and forth as you eyed everyone in the room

↺ His students find you adorable and get distracted by your presence at first before their professor sends them a chalk their way

↺ His students give you little gifts or snacks as they leave the room, a part of them hoping that Ratio’s rampage on his grade book will be softened by your happiness at the gifts you received

↺ He finds out what his students are doing, but lets them do it anyway since it’s making you happy (he’d probably set some limits though before you get way too much stuff)

-----

Veritas had just finished up his lecture with his students, organizing their work into neat stacks on one side of his desk. Once the last student had left his classroom, he took off his plaster head and sat it in front of him. In his peripheral vision, he saw a small empty chair to the left of his desk. It was where you normally sat. 

The violet-haired man was then reminded of your absence due to the sudden sickness you had caught the day before. With a sigh, he turned back towards the ungraded stacks of paper on his desk and got to work. He’d try to be home before midnight. 

…..

By the time he finished, it was already 9. Walking out of the campus, he was met with the emptiness the night brought with it. Students were already long gone, the handful of teachers that had stayed late already packed up and left for dinner, but he was running a bit late. So with a brisk pace, he set off in the direction of his home, the cool night air hitting his skin.

Once Veritas reached his destination, he quickly unlocked the door and went inside, the warmth of his home greeting him. His shoulders fell, the weight that had been put upon himself leaving his body as he could see a faint light coming from your room. 

Slipping off his outerwear, he quietly walked across the hardwood floors and stopped outside of your bedroom door. Veritas listened for any signs that you might be awake, but nothing. He placed his hand on the door and gently pushed it open so he was able to enter. 

You had left your bedside lamp on, with a couple of papers and crayons scattered across the desk you normally drew at. His eyes had landed on your small, curled-up form, snoring away beneath the comforters of your bed. He softly chuckled to himself, walking towards your bed and lifting the blanket so it reached your shoulders. You had stirred but only shuffled to get comfortable. Placing a small kiss on your forehead, Veritas got up to put away the crayons and papers you had left out.

While picking up and putting away the crayons in the correct order that was directed on the box, the bright, grainy colors on a paper caught his eye. He gently picked up a piece of paper that you seemed to have been working on while he was gone. It was a drawing of the both of you in a field of flowers, your best friend, Dodoco, in between the both of you. Veritas had to admit that it was cute, a small smile appearing on his face before he gathered the rest of your drawings and slid them into a folder. 

When he had finished making sure that everything was neatly put away, Veritas moved to turn off the lamp, wishing you sweet dreams. 

-----

⋘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ⋙

note - hey ya'll.. nice weather we've got here... 😀 i really need to blast through my requests-- wearesobackipromise.

Brainrot ever since that Harbingers trailer dropped.

Reader as the Fatui Harbinger’s own personal tailor, because let’s face it, someone made those badass clothes and winter fits on them, they didn’t just magically appear outta nowhere.

So there’s lil ole you recruited to be their tailor, you used to help around in your mother’s textile shop but got increasingly busy when the Fatui constantly called on you to take measurements and design everything: their combat clothes, their winter coats, their formal attires.

Oh boy and what a chaotic event it is on measurement day, they’re all just at each other’s throats and you’re always wondering how no one has killed each other yet. You’re pretty diligent with your work and somehow most of them had taken a liking towards you.

Keep reading

⌗ 𝘚𝘊𝘈𝘙𝘈𝘔𝘖𝘜𝘊𝘏𝘌 𝘏𝘊 ⁝ 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦 ( ♱ )

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language Hope you enjoy!

Oh lord. He's a sadistic yandere. The type that I hate the most. He's honestly one of the worst yanderes in the game. Why would you even want him as your yandere?

Scaramouche thinks you're stupid. So, so stupid. You really believe this world is beautiful, don't you? You think it's worth it? You believe there are good things to be thankful for? You believe in gods?

That's why you're always smiling, isn't it? That's why you're not scared of him? That's why you're so happy? What a stupid, stupid human.

But he'll show you. He'll show you why you shouldn't trust blindly. Why this world is cruel. Why there's only disgusting things in this world. Why no one answers your prayers.

Oh, does it hurt? Did he broke your wrist? Are you crying? Does the little baby want her mommy? Too bad she's stuck with him, right?

How about your legs? Do they hurt badly? How does it feel? How much does it hurt? It must hurt so much, right?

Then why are you smiling through your tears? Why are you trying to reach him? Why are you caressing his face? Why are you telling him it's okay? That you're fine?

Huh? What is this? What is this feeling? Why are his eyes blurring? What's this? Why are his cheeks wet? What's that look on your face? Why does everything hurt so much?

Don't touch him! Don't fucking touch him with your filthy hands! It's your fault. It's all your fucking fault. If you hadn't smiled at him, if you hadn't tried to help him the first time, this wouldn't have happened.

But that's okay. That's okay. He just has to try harder. He just has to push you harder. To hurt you more.

What's wrong now? Why are you quiet? Shouldn't you be smiling? You said it didn't hurt, right? You said you were fine, right? Then why aren't you smiling now?

It's funny. See! You're not smiling anymore. He was right! He won! Now he's the one who can't stop laughing.

But... but if he won, why isn't he happy? Why are his eyes burning? Why are his hands shaking? Why can't he force his body to move?

The smell of blood disgusts him. His fingers dig into your cheeks as he forces your head up. Your once beautiful face is now marred with bruises and scars. Your clothes, soaking with blood, cling to your body like a second skin. He can clearly see the scars, the bruises, the broken bones that stick out of your flesh–everything. He can see everything.

He should be happy, right? Wasn't that what he wanted? He wanted to break you, right? He wanted to destroy your smile, right?

He softly unlocks the chains around your broken wrists, and your body collapses to the ground, as if you're dead.

He kneels down and wraps his arms around your fragile body. He buries his nose in your knotted hair and tries to calm himself down. But his tears just keep falling, and now you no longer wipe them away.

He presses his forehead to yours, his lips trembling. "I'm sorry," he whispers, the words foreign and bitter on his tongue. "I'm so sorry."

What has he done?

@ 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 . 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒, 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡, 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑠 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠.

play wrestling — scaramouche.

Occasionally, there are instances in one’s life where regret embeds itself too deep to safely remove. 

Standing here, your back against the literal and proverbial wall, you’re reacquainted with this humbling reality. A reminder of your mortality. What a delicate substance it is, easily extinguishable like a candle to some. 

Violet eyes piercing enough to sever metal regard you, unamused and faintly malicious. You can’t say you didn’t bring this upon yourself. He pins your wrists above you with one hand. His grip is tight yet falls short of being painful. As much as you want to look away, he won’t permit it, so you maintain unflinching eye contact to prevent ruffling him further. 

“Well?” There’s a sardonic lilt to his voice that makes you shiver. “I’m waiting.” 

You part and close your lips in the same breath. Asking him for clarification won’t do you much good, he delights in watching you piece together his dubious intentions. The satisfaction he derives from it is a bit worrisome. Nonetheless, he offers you one saving grace he’d extend to no one else — patience.

What led up to this unfortunate development? Ah, yes, you saw fit to poke a slumbering beast with a stick. Scaramouche had been too preoccupied to entertain your whims. So, you being the genius that you are, offhandedly remarked that if he didn’t want to wrestle around with you, Tartaglia would certainly be up for it. 

No sooner had his junior Harbinger’s name left your lips did you find yourself pinned against a wall. 

He sighs, long and drawn out, as if you’re the source of all his woes. 

“You’re the one who proposed this insipid game, the least you can do is see it through.” 

One of the best boons from being in Scaramouche’s orbit is how many insults he adds to your vocabulary. His lexicon is vast and impressive. 

Now that you understand what he’s getting at, you push back against your restraints, gauging how effective this method would be. He doesn’t cede any ground. His lithe body belies the immense strength he can wield. He restricts your writhing without overexerting himself in the slightest. Realizing a battle of physical prowess won’t end in your favor, you employ a new tactic. 

The corners of your eyes crinkle as you smile at him softly. 

“Kuni,” you speak the nickname he weakly claims to abhor, “Won’t you go easy on me?” 

The tips of the Harbinger’s ears turn red. He scoffs, turning his head to hide how effortlessly you fluster him. “Of course not. If I always indulged you, you’d become more insufferable than you already are.” 

“That’s rude.” 

“The truth often is.” 

While he’s preoccupied with your exchange, you twist your body, placing your best on the element of surprise. He’d need to quickly readjust the angle at which he’s holding your wrist to stop you. For half a second, you think you have him beat, but he leans in, using his torso to block your escape. A wicked grin spreads on his face at your little underhanded tactic. 

You swallow thickly. 

“Awe, don’t look so defeated! The effort was there,” he snickers. “Maybe next time?” 

“Don’t you have things to do? It’s not like you can hold me here all day, right?” 

He stares at you blankly. 

“... Right?” You repeat, chuckling weakly. 

“Hm, I don’t know. I’m starting to see the appeal to this game of yours. Let’s play a while longer.” 

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

<-

jealousy, jealousy,

I reckon yuu has atleast some people admiring them for their 'heroic' acts for each dorms, ironically enough

characters. riddle, leona, azul, kalim, vil, idia, malleus.

includes. gn!reader, flowers aren't limited to girls.

cw. each has a student from their dorm liking reader, book 5 spoilers? kinda.

note. this was supposed to be for celebrating 4k and originally I had a fic that I was supposed to publish but I got really busy w/ school and stuff so I supposed I'll just drop this 😚 I'm also sick btw *cries

if someone asked you; "what do you think the students see you as?" you'd probably answer, "a wannabe I guess." technically you were sure that you were right about your guess. if there's anything that you'd know about a school that worships villians is that they'd hate someone whose the polar opposite.

which is you, with you basically 'saving' the dorm leaders and all. atleast the person in question didn't seem to pick at you for helping them and not going like 'I don't need your help.'

which is also why you're.. shocked to say the least when some random student you can't say that looks familiar hands you a bouquet of flowers, clearly flushing at your stare. you notice a white envelope tucked into the variety of flowers as well as a box of chocolates.

funnily enough you wondered if twisted wonderland celebrated valentines day on a different month.

albeit the possibly hundred other gazes from the other people. why'd they have to do this in the cafeteria exactly? it would've saved you the trouble if they did it on a more private scale.

you can only smile at them politely. honesty feeling a mixture of embarrassment and shyness cause you've never received such a bold confession yourself. "thank you?" you feel a little bad when they deflate at your short answer to their gifts but nevertheless pleased.

"you're welcome. I tried to pick out the flowers for someone as special as you but it can't compare." they absent-mindedly state. you can't hide the grin on your face, you just met this person and they're already flattering you. it feels nice to be appreciated.

kinda cringe but you take it back this person is really cool.

— riddle rosehearts

bystander number 1. who wants to collar that person by anger, along with jealousy then proceed to stomp away. riddle would actually do that but only when you're not around cause you'd probably not be too happy if he punishes your 'friend' and he wants you to see him as the 😇 reliable young lad everyone loves.

suddenly had the will to impress you and one upped everything the other person did. so they got a 49 on the magical analysis test? that's too bad, riddle got 50. get on his level. so they answer correctly only when called? well riddle's voluntarily raising his hand and getting them all correct. oh they can cook?

oh well. he can do everything else better else than cooking so it doesn't really matter. you'd be a fool to choose someone else over him. but he supposes its part of the charm, infatuatingly enough.

— leona kingscholar

bystander number 2 who either just doesn't care or is secretly really mad. knowing leona it's probably the latter because it's leona and if there's something he hates it's probably getting upped by some random person whom he's clearly better than. you must be really blind if you have the audacity to ramble about said person to him.

went really grumpy for the span of days to weeks. ruggie literally would do anything you ask if it meant that leona's gonna be to his old self, lazy sure but he didn't used to place this much work on him!

your fault or not you'd probably also get affected by his drastic change of attitude. bro literally ignored you as well as everyone else, reverting to his mean self but treating you with more bitterness. it's probably not your fault but he doesn't regret a thing because you actually look upset when he pays you no mind. so you do feel something for him 😒😏. flashbacks to kaeya

— azul ashengrotto

bystander number 3. who's borderlining between wanting to get depressed then crawl in his octo pot to cry and absolutely ruining everything this random cheap made. I mean, really? those aren't even your favorite flowers! where did they get them, at the nearest dollar store? if he were them he'd give you the most expensive flowers you'd ever lay your eyes on!

and that's what he does actually; literally showed up on your doorstep with a handsome smile and gave you the most prettiest flowers you've seen yet. consider yourself charmed! bro literally made you forget about that other person for days until you saw them like a month later which is kinda bizarre..

the twins don't let you know that azul put them up on a 'job' to keep em' away. but it does use for good blackmail material against the jealous octopus.

— kalim al asim

bystander number 4. legit doesn't get jealous. kalim literally is just happy that you have admirers like him because you deserve it! he'd be more upset if you didn't have admirers honestly. okay but lowkey though, he isn't trying to compete at all but you receive a large bouquet, definitely much grander than the one you received and a heartfelt letter tucked into it.

how was that person supposed to win you over when kalim does it better?? ok but this is like the jamil situation in book 5 LOL.

if he actually somehow gets jealous he feels bad because he knows he'll do it better ( not condescending /gen ) so he just resorts to trying to win your affection and forgets about not trying then completely overshadowed the other person's previous attempts. bro only spared a 'I feel bad' look then smiling again because yay! you like him better now :)

— vil schoenheit

bystander number 5. AKA, the one who knows he'll do better and actually does do it better ( condescending ). vil doesn't even bother doing anything cause he trusts you enough to make the.. correct, choice. you do know that he's one of the most sought off person in the world, right? you'd be a fool to not see that.

okay but maybe he is a little paranoid that you actually will choose them so he actually does put in effort..

I mean nearly everyone is scared terrified of rook right? what's one more person to the count? he totally does not purposely send out rook to stalk them so he can expose them on social media .. or make him stall them somewhere so he has the chance to whisk you away and you losing the ability to see them for this day.. oh well, it's better to just spend it with vil since your free anyways..

— idia shroud

bystander number 6 who was there but actually not there..? physically not present but he was there, somehow.. *looks at camera in the far, FAR corner of the ceiling*. idia doesn't know whether to start crying because you actually looked happy with their CRINGE. confession.. the crying is a more intense period than azul's btw.

or.. actually there's no or, that's just what he's gonna do. close his electronic device, crawl into his bed and cry into his body pillow. fear not. little brother ortho to the rescue! ortho actually suggested destroying any evidence of a 'disappearance' if that poor soul just happened to not be present for years but idia quickly shot that idea down, he actually pondered on agreeing but no way he's gonna let them win by that!

hijacks all their phones, PC's, whatever other stuff so that it's completely off, no other person can fix it besides him. and he's definitely not gonna do that so the person ghosts you for weeks, so you get mad and ghost them irl.. wow his masterplan actually worked. no ortho pls don't force me to 'comfort' them..

— malleus draconia

bystander number 7 who genuinely doesn't see the appeal of this basic little b— human :). like? hello?? he's right here, open your eyes child of man. no need to tolerate the pathetic display they just did that doesn't live up to your very existence, they might as well compare you to gravel on the floor from how poor they executed their weird analogy.

he could legit go on and on about every single feature you have, your eyes, mouth, face, shape.. he would present you a microsoft presentation for it if you ask and it literally is godly description type of thing. you could finish listening to one of them and you'd be in TEARS ☠.

bros so sentimental. he thanks lilia for the advice of microsoft presentation because you now look completely convinced. malleus has the pride to spare the other person a smirk when your attention is fully on him :D.

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.

did you see the arlecchino animation and teaser??? a;fasjl;f

they make me so sad :(( also, the teaser was hot af tho, had me so downbad. arlecchino's lore is just so 😭

~EL anon

would you like new toys?

i simped so hard during the animation and teaser i decided to write a mini series fic about arlecchino. i have a lot of thoughts about it and now i'm regretting not taking up your offer lmao

forethoughts: my love language is writing someone an entire fic about them (not really, but i will write you an entire letter).

notes: fem!reader in mind, but gn!. NOT AN x READER!! READER IS A CHILD IN THIS!

In every cluster of children, there was always one that had trouble making friends. 

That title was unfortunately bestowed upon you.

Always excluded in activities and games, left to play in the corner with the leftover, worn out toys while everyone chose the newest and best toys in the box. It had always been that way; you didn’t see it changing any time.

Father was always more lenient and caring with you. She made sure you were the first in line to get breakfast, lunch and dinner. While everyone had a curfew, you were allowed to wander the halls freely and exit your room. That of course didn’t make it any easier for you to make friends. 

Like a robot given the same set of codes and no changes, days blurred into weeks, and weeks blurred into months while you lived your solitary life. 

~

You sat crossed leg, facing the corner of the playroom, hands empty. You ran out of luck; all the toys were already gone by the time you got to the box. Letting out a sigh, boredom finally consumed you, prompting you to stand up, brush the dust off your shorts as you exited the playroom. No one batted an eye or even glanced at your direction; to them you were invisible. To everyone you were invisible.

Wandering the halls of the House of Hearth at night gave you a pretty good scope on the architecture of the building. If someone asked you where the infirmary was or the bathroom, you could accurately pinpoint the location for them. You looked at the colorful glass panes on the sides of the halls, raising a hand to block the sunlight from hitting your face. They called you a dreamer, delusional for your ideas and thoughts. Said your hopes were far too high. Father always disagreed. Father always disagreed with whatever the others called you.

A sudden shriek was ripped out of your throat as your body went sideways, shoulder hitting an even stone ground. You winced, forcing yourself to sit as you examined your body. You could barely make out what was your leg and arm with the lighting. Standing up, you decided to explore the uncharted territory in your little mind map. The walls were lined with sharp blades that glimmered under the narrow light source opposite to the swords. You looked behind you, to your sides, in front of you, as you allowed curiosity to take hold of your mind. With two hands, you lifted one of the blades from its holding place, letting it fall onto the ground. You dragged the blade along the stone to the center of the room, ignoring the shriek of protest the sword was making. Letting out a deep breath, you gripped your hands around the hilt of the sword, lifting it as high as you could. When you’d finally lift it over your head, a triumphant cheer exited your mouth, eyes admiring the shine and sharpness of the blade like a bee eyeing a flower. 

“Children like you should not be wielding such dangerous objects.” Your muscles went limp, bones turning into uncooked noodles as your head spun to the direction of the voice. Father. Fear wasn’t just done with taking hold of your body. Fear was transmitted into the blade itself. Before you knew it, a sharp pain emitted through your forehead, a rush of warmness surging towards the area. The sword fell on your side, next to your collapsed body.

“Y/N!” Father was instantly by your side. Through that cold and emotionless facade, you could see a flash of worry and fear in her eyes. Fear. Father felt fear. Your head was placed in Father’s arms, knees hooked onto her other arm as you were rushed out of the dark room.

You sat on Father’s table in silence, fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt as you stared at your dirt covered, bruised hands. Father reciprocated the silence, as she stood in front of you, using a cotton ball to dab up the blood. You winced at the serum that was infused with the cotton against your fresh wound, knuckles turning white. Father didn’t let out any remark at your wince, rather you could feel her actions becoming more gentle and tender. 

“This might hurt.” Father muttered, picking up something from her tray of material, the object having a thin string tail behind. You could barely stifle a shriek as the needle penetrates your skin, the lithe object dancing from one side to another, piercing hole after hole in your skin. You gripped onto your sleeve for life until your hand was ghost white, as Father stitched up your wound before you could blink. Father let out a sigh, snipping any remaining string as she set the needle on the tray. Her eyes shifted downwards, her lips pursed as you felt her gaze burning into your skull.

“...I’m sorry.” You murmured quietly, the words regurgitating out of your mouth, unable to squeeze anything out under her gaze.

“I thought I told you that recklessness always leads to failure. What were you doing out of the playroom?”

“...” You could feel the corners of your eyes starting to burn up, your mouth quivering. Father noticed. Of course she did. 

“Look at me.” Father sighed. 

Reluctantly, you lifted your head, meeting Father’s eyes. Instead of scorn and disappointment, you were met with understanding and warmth, her pursed lips turning into a thin smile. Thin. Just like the ice you were on. Father could smile all she wanted, but you knew you were as good as dead.

Father’s hand went for your head, sharp fingers combing through your hair. “What type of toy do you like, Y/N? I am planning to get more for the toybox; it appears we have a shortage of toys. Of course, I would like to get the best and newest toys for all. I was wondering what you would like to see and play with.”

Your heart moved an inch higher from your stomach, still threatening to fall and combust into millions of pieces. “U-Uhm… I d-don’t know…”

“Speak up, my child.”

“I-I don’t know… what toys I like, Father…” 

Father let out a chuckle. “Of course. How could you choose your favorite in an empty box?”

You looked down at her words. Of course Father knew.

“Y/N.”

You looked back up at her, meeting her playful eyes, a look you knew she only gave you and you only. 

“How about I introduce you to some… new toys not any of the other children have seen? Would you like some new toys?”

“Toys… the others haven’t seen?” You tilt your head at that statement.

“Yes. Toys the others have not seen. Are you interested? I will personally teach you how to… play with these toys.”

You nodded your head, a small hesitant smile on your face. Father never offered the other children new toys. Father never offered how to play with toys. Father never played with the others.

The corners of Father’s thin lips tugged upwards slightly, as her finger hovered over your wound. She helped you off the desk, hand holding yours as she led you out of her office. “It is almost time for lunch. But I would rather you get some rest after what happened. Rest assured I will bring food to your room.”

“Y-Yes, Father.” You mumbled.

Father led you to your room upstairs, setting you on the plush mattress as the blanket was draped over your body. She ran her fingers through your hair again, petting your head before strolling out of the room. “Rest well, my child.”

~

Arlecchino closed the door, letting out a sigh. She made her way back downstairs to join the other children. “Rest assured, my child, no one will ever dare to lay a finger on you anymore. No harm shall ever come your way.”

Hey dear!

For your selected character request I'd like to read some Scaramouche 🖤

I'm more into how things develop rather than how things currently are with the yandere so how would he be like before they start "dating"? Let's say darling is also a Fatui member, nothing out of the ordinary.

What made him so interested in them in the first place and how would he approach her? Would he play the powerful position card or try to sneak into her heart more? I'd love to understand how he'd approach the new situation. He's obsessed from the start that's new and doesn't sit right with him but he can't help but be curious, right?

As far as I'm informed he left the Fatui with the gnosis so I'm assuming he'd plan on kidnapping them from the start.

If you could write a small scenario with him trying to get closer to the reader that would be awesome. He's extremely twisted and I love love love your writing so much. You capture him so well. Do you think he'd whisk them away instantly? I'm dying to know!

If you don't feel inspired and don't want to write this that's okay of course.

Take care!!!🖤

Title: Best Made Plans [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Synopsis: Scaramouche is getting out. But what should he do with you?

Word Count: 1774

notes: yandere

Scaramouche is not one to be intrigued by things, especially human things. Mortal, flimsy, inconsequential things. Things that bear no importance in his grander world.  

He is certainly not one to care about those who serve under him; he cares only for how they can serve him, how he can push and pull and twist them into meeting his needs. Fatui, not Fatui… doesn’t matter, at least not beyond the surface that he presents to the world. Harbringer, indeed.

He doesn’t normally bother to learn the names of those who take his orders, unless it’s to find out which of the Fatui agents bowing beneath him has fucked up enough to deserve his rebuke. 

He certainly doesn’t learn their faces or histories, doesn’t care to hear about their families and friends and hopes and dreams and all those little tiny details that makes humans… human.

But then you came along and changed everything. A storm that blew in with no warning, leaving electrical charge in your wake.  

You. You intrigue him. You inspire feelings of curiosity, and interest, and--warmth--in him. It’s the warmth, he thinks, that draws him closer to you again and again, seeking a fire that he thought long since extinguished. If it ever truly existed in him in the first place.

With you, he doesn’t feel the primal urge to immediately recoil when the masked agents at his command feel the bizarre (and utterly human) need to make themselves distinct to him with introductions or personal details.

Though it is only the new ones who do so, those who weren’t warned in time by the veteran Fatui that spread the well-minded notice whenever someone new comes under his command: Lord Scaramouche is not to be bothered--at least, if you value your life.  

Were you given this warning? It’s something he often wonders. If you were, you ignored it. The thought that you did so only makes you more fascinating.

He can still remember the first offhand comment you made in his direction, a joke about the rain. Instead of admonishing you for speaking out of turn, for daring to even look in his direction unnecessarily, he found himself unable to speak for a moment. And then he snorted and turned his head towards you, almost a nod. And you smiled.

It was insubordinate. It was infuriating. It was… intoxicating.

He’s found over time that something inside him--but what could be inside his hollow body, except emptiness?--wants to know you. That thing inside, whatever it is, it makes him want to pull out those little details in you that he finds so useless in others. He wants to keep them pasted in a book, keep them, keep you, secure in whatever amounts to his heart.

And what’s stranger is that you freely give those details to him, casually, easily. Sometimes with a smile. Why? Why do you gravitate towards him, when so many others have fled?

There’s an image that comes to his mind during your increasingly long conversations together, something he saw once long ago. A calm spring afternoon and some carefree girl dropping flower petals on a shrine in the country--sweet, natural offerings given without expectation.

The petals you leave him are not fragrant blossoms, but he treasures them as much as any Archon. He accepts them as readily, too, even if he knows that realistically you aren’t leaving them at his feet in reverence.

You offhandedly mention that you grew up with little siblings. He keeps this in mind when he watches you interact with other Fatui. You almost herd the other members in your troop, nagging at them, keeping them in line with a tone that teeters between the border of commanding and camaraderie.

He’s spotted you reading books in your off-time, and you sheepishly held up the title when he asked you what you were reading. Romance novels. Drivel, of course, and yet… he couldn’t bring himself to snipe at you as he might have, if he caught someone else reading the same useless junk.

Instead he flushed. He walked away before you could see the pink tinge to his cheeks, but he felt the heat of that moment for hours later. He felt it again when he ordered a servant to acquire a copy for him--keeping the title a secret under penalty of execution.

All these little details that mean nothing to him in others mean so much in you. Some nights he’ll dream about you, dream about the two of you, alone, without the constant interference of servants and agents and the nagging responsibilities of this life. In his dreams, you’ll smile at him without reserve and shyly tuck your hair behind your ear and then you’ll reach for him and--

What the hell are you doing to him? And why does he want you to keep doing it?

And now… now that he is about to abandon this uselessness, the Fatui, for something bigger, he can’t help but think: what is he going to do with you?

 It was easy to keep you at his side before. He gave the order that you stay in his personal service, and you obeyed it. That was that. You didn’t seem to mind the easier work, nor did you complain when he ordered you to be his personal guard at times, watching him while he worked. Silent, at first, and then gradually speaking more and more.

Anyone else would have been struck on the spot the moment that they dared to speak familiarly with him. But he lets you talk. He lets you ask him questions. He answers them, sometimes truthfully, when it’s not impractical for you to know these things. And you, in your naviety, let him ask all about you. Your life. Your history. Everything that combines together to create the unique and tolerable being that is yourself.

He should be able to leave you behind. Leave you here like he’s left so many others, so many places, now just vague memories and impressions. Perhaps he’ll recall the way you made his cheeks flush one night, or snort at the memory of sitting in at his imposing desk, reading some sentimental novel about people falling in love.

He should be able to leave you, yes. But he can’t. He can’t be content with only impressions of you. Impressions are ghosting and fleeting and they hurt, in the end. You, on the other hand, do not hurt. You fill him with something. He doesn't know what it is, but the urge to find out is enough to keep him bound to you.

How exactly to keep you with him is something else entirely.

You’re on time, at least. He’s been waiting in place for some time, waiting for you to walk by on your rounds. When you do, he calls your name. You freeze for just a moment before turning on your heel.

“Yes, Lord Scaramouche?”

He beckons with one hand, and you come closer. You don’t stumble over your feet like the others would, anxious and afraid that they’ve upset the volatile Scaramouche. You walk to him as if you’re walking lightly to meet a friend. And are you?

You don’t even ask him before sitting down on a nearby rock, stretching out your legs. Your eyes are alert but unafraid behind your mask, awaiting whatever it is he wanted.

He’s had the question prepared all morning. It’s just one question. Yet the answer you give will help him decide what to do with you, how to keep you with him, despite the whirlwind of changes that lie ahead.

“Why did you join the Fatui?”

The way your posture strengthened is fake and rehearsed and he feels a tickle of annoyance in his throat. This rehearsed behavior looks horrible on you. It’s too formal and unbecoming. He wants you as he’s seen you, carefree and even a bit wild. You came from a country village, you said, and it showed.

“To serve the--” you begin, like you’re saying a line from a play, but he waves his hand immediately.

“No,” he says, a touch of irritation in his tone. “Why did you join?”

You don’t answer right away. Your eyes flick one way and another behind the mask, finally landing on his face. You’re searching for something. Feeling him out. Seeing what he wants, and if he truly wants your real answer. He feels like he can see every conversation the pair of the two of you have had, every almost-touch, every glance, in your eyes.

No, he can’t tell you what he wants--you’ll run, he’s not stupid--but he does truly want your real answer.

You must decide it’s safe to trust him, because you wet your lips with your tongue and then stare straight ahead, relaxing your posture back to its formal familiarity.  Something about this makes him feel a little dizzy; your trust in him is what has bound him to you, but it will also be your downfall.

“I… wanted to get out.” Your lips twist into a smirking sort of smile, the kind you make when you’re talking about something bitter.

And then you do something that sucks the air from his lungs.

You lift your mask and set it down on the rock. Your eyes glance at his, and there’s an almost worried expression in them, despite your congenial history together.

He says nothing. He can’t, the air has been practically pulled from his lungs. Not that you need to know that. If only you knew that he could never reprimand you for showing him your bare face. A face that he could look at forever, far past your minuscule human lifespan. This thought makes him want to shiver, and he tucks it into his memory for later consideration.

“I wanted to get out of that little village and go somewhere bigger,” you continue, voice taking on the bittersweetness in  your expression.

You must be thinking of that little village, and all the details he’s learned from your lips come to mind. Small town, small people, small ideas. No ambition but becoming yet another mother, yet another cog in the wheel of life.

“I wanted to be a part of something...” You look at him again, and this time you hold his gaze. “Be a part of something so much bigger than myself. You know?”

He does.

And now he knows what he will do with you.

He nods, and offers up a thin smile.

“Something bigger than yourself, huh…”

He has a lot to tell you. And if you don’t accept, well. There’s always another way to do things.