"Please Don't Leave Me"

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

Heaven’s Little Star

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

Venti - The Carefree Guardian

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

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

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

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

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

Zhongli - The Wise Protector

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ei - The Silent Guardian

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

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

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

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

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

Nahida – The Understanding Guide

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

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

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

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

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

Furina - The Dramatic Older Sister

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mavuika - The Fiery Mentor

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

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

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

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

would you like a new home? (pt. 3.2)

forethoughts: i maxxed out arlecchino to lvl 90 🤩. rip all my fragile resins.

notes: gn!child!reader, NOT AN X READER READER IS A CHILD IN THIS!!!

Arlecchino was working when the caretaker had entered her office. She suppressed her disdain and annoyance as she asked the caretaker what was so important her work time had to be disrupted.

Arlecchino immediately stood up and stormed towards the caretaker when she heard your name.

“Y/N had gotten in a fight with another child? Two children?” Arlecchino pursed her lips, eyebrows furrowed. The caretaker elaborated more, handing her two distinct blades, one stained with blood.

“We have them in their room right now. The other two is in the infirmary. How would a child get their hands on such dangerous objects?” The caretaker commented, as Arlecchino took both blades, clutching both helms with one hand.

“I will deal with this.” Arlecchino walked out of her office, marching towards the infirmary. After all, you could use some more time to reflect before you would meet her.

You sat on your bed, knees to your chest and head on your knees as you stared at the wall. Father’s broken compass was next to you, the needle finally taking a rest. You could imagine the children outside gossiping and decreasing your odds of ever making friends in this hellhole of an orphanage. How you had injured the most popular kid. 

Father made sure you knew not to care about what the others said about you. And you didn’t at all.

Father.

How was Father taking in the information?

Surely Father was already informed about the fight. 

Your heart sank a little when you tried to imagine how Father was feeling. The betrayal. The hurt. The shock that you had used your new toys Father had only taught you on one of your ‘kin’. Perhaps the boy was right. In the end of the day Father might as well revoke everything she had given you. Including this room.

The sound of the doorknob twisting open shattered your confidence and determination you had about the fight, the sounds of Father’s heel clicking against the marble ground sending spiders down your spine. You felt a dip in the mattress being created, as Father sat down next to you, mere inches away. Father sat there, observing your hunched figure with a stoic expression in the deafening silence. You heard her pick up her broken compass-the gift she had given you to take care of. And it was completely shattered.

“...I’m sorry.” You murmured, breaking the silent barrier. “I tried to stop them from breaking it.”

Father let out a chuckle. “Anything that can break will break. Some can be fixed, some cannot.” 

You felt Father’s eyes pierce your skull, causing your gaze to fall even lower. To your surprise, a hand was placed on your head, combing through your hair. You were shuffled closer to Father’s body, until your shoulder touched hers. “How are you feeling, dear? Are you alright?”

Father was… comforting you? 

Your shoulders relaxed a little, but they were still stiff.

“I-I’m… okay.”

“Did they hurt you in any way?” You bit your lips, the conversation one of the orphans had with you while their foot was on your head was still fresh in your mind.

“Yes…” You mumbled, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve.

Father noticed-of course she did-, and placed her hand in yours, rubbing small circles on your palm.

“How so?”

You looked down. “...They started it.”

“Okay.” Father said calmly. “How so? And do look at me when you do.”

You reluctantly lifted your head, meeting Father’ surprisingly warm and calm gaze. “I was admiring the compass you had given me. And then one of them tripped me and took the compass and started playing with it. The other one shoved me and placed his feet on my head and pressed it down.”

You swore you saw Father’s eye twitch at your last sentence. 

“The one pressing my head against the ground told me I had to ask you to have a smaller room, no dessert, last in line and an earlier curfew than the other orphans.” You spat each word out with poison. “They threatened to break Father’s compass if I did not do what they said. He shoved me first and attacked me. Father said if I was attacked first I could use my toys. So I did. I tried talking to them first but they wouldn’t listen. I did what Father said to do before I used my toys.”

Father remained silent, as her hand brushed over the area the boy had stepped on your head. “Does your head hurt now?”

“A-A little… b-but it's nothing…” 

Father ignored your comment, as she lifted your body so you were on her lap. She examined the area the boy stepped on. Placing a single finger on the area was enough to make you shiver, the corners of your eyes burn and tears threatening to fall.

“My poor child…” Father sighed, wrapping her arms around your frail body.

Now your tears were really threatening to fall. “I-I’m sorry for using my new toys on the other orphans… I’m sorry for disobeying Father’s rule… I promise it won’t happen again. F-Father can take away my room a-and move me back to that room w-with the other orphans, put me last in line for food and give me an earlier curfew. I’ll take it without complaint. I d-deserve it for disappointing Father.”

“Nonsense, my child.” Father placed her fingers on your chin, forcing you to look her in the eyes. She moved her hand to your cheek, wiping your tears away with a gentle wipe of her thumb. “None of those things will happen. I will not punish you for acting in self defense. I am not disappointed in you for trying to defend yourself.”

“B-But-”

“No buts. What happened has happened. You are hurt; they are hurt. Adding more pain and suffering to one side of the scale will not make it balanced nor just.” Father’s lips turned into a thin smile, as she let out a sigh. “Come. Let’s get you cleaned up and ready for bed, okay? It has been a long day for you.”

Father lifted you up in her arms, cradling you as she carried you to what you could only assume to be her private bathroom, seeing she had walked past the showering hall. 

“Father…?” You hesitantly asked.

“Yes, my dear?”

“...Why did you give me all those perks? A new room, first in line, no curfew?”

Father let out a sigh. “Even looking back I do not understand why I had the urge to do all those for you. I suppose it was because I was concerned and worried about you, my child. I could not bear to watch you sit alone and always get the last pick for everything. I could not bear to sit in the sidelines and watch you try and hold your tears back as you watched dust move across the ground. I could not bear to watch the other children treat you like filth when you were the kindness out of all. I believed that giving you some perks would help make your stay more… comfortable.”

Father paused. “Has it… made your stay more comfortable?”

You looked at the ground, your head resting on Father’s shoulder. “A little…”

Father let out a chuckle. “Better than none.”

Father carried you to her private bathroom, setting you down in the tub as she lathered soap across your back and body, washing your hair. Her touch was delicate and gentle, never lingering in one spot for too long or applying a large amount of pressure. Father dried you with one of her towels, dressing you in silk pajamas before carrying you back to your room. You found it hard to believe. You had injured two of Father’s children, and yet while they were in the infirmary, legs immobilized, you were wearing silk pajamas, being washed by Father, and coddled all along the way.

As Father laid you down in bed, brushing your hair one last time and planting a kiss on your forehead, you couldn’t help but ask.

“Why does Father treat me so well? Father w-wouldn’t do any of this for the others, would she?” You blurted out.

Father chuckled at your question, the corners of her mouth tugging upwards. “Perhaps it is true I treat you much differently and better than the rest. Perhaps I do have a sense of favoritism towards you. Perhaps it is because I see a part of me in you. No matter. Soon, my dear child, all of this will be over. I will deal with this. Do not worry about the other two children. Get some rest, my child, and all will be well. I will be coming back shortly to deliver you dinner.”

Father walked away, turning off the lights in your room as she shut the door. You laid there on your bed, her words echoing in your head. Father saw herself in you? Your little mind didn’t know how to think about that.

But all you knew was that Father cared for you.

Father loved you. 

Father was not mad. 

Father said everything will be better.

So everything will be better.

would you like some cake? (pt 2)

forethoughts: if you want to read part one it's would you like some new toys :D. i'm literally going to go home in a few hours and pull for arlecchino i'm so excited so happy so on adrenaline i can't ahhhh

notes: gn!child!reader, but fem!reader in mind. NOT AN X READER, READER IS A CHILD!!!

You don’t remember when was the last time you stepped foot in the playroom again. Father said she would take you to a different playroom, away from the others. You spent every day in that new playroom with Father. Father always gave you an option to go back. The door was always wide open. Distant sounds of the other children laughing and cheering rang in your ears. 

Father said you were getting better day by day. Much more used to your new toys. Father even allowed you to bring your toys with you everywhere. One inside your boots, one strapped to your belt. Father even allowed you to bring one to your room. 

Your room. Instead of the room you shared with the others, Father had moved you. Closer to her office. You have your own room now. Father had decorated it herself, she said. The mattress felt like three of the mattresses in your old room stacked upon each other. The room made you feel tiny. Alone. But Father was always there. Father was always with you.

Father said you were almost as skilled as the guards that stood outside the orphanage. 

Father was proud.

Father was proud of you.

Father always read you bedtime stories. Tucked you in, planting a soft kiss on your forehead before turning off the lights. Father always taught you to not listen to what the other children said. That the only person you should be listening to is her and yourself. 

You don’t remember when was the last time you felt eyes casted on you and words piercing your heart when you ate your meals. You still ate your meals in the hall with the other children; Father was adamant that you would still have some interaction with the others. But you didn’t care. 

Father made sure you knew your worth. 

~

Using your chopsticks, you fished up a bundle of noodles, putting it in your spoon and then in your mouth. You chewed, and then fished up another bundle of noodles. The children behind your back were loud and rowdy as usual. Father said to pay no mind to them. This time was different.

They were talking about Father.

It was Father’s birthday tomorrow. 

Father was always secretive and didn’t reveal much about herself. They were planning on surprising her with a big party in the playroom. Of course, you weren’t part of it.

Father was always there for you, you thought. Never shy from giving you gifts and words of advice on the days you needed them. 

You stood up from your seat, carrying your empty udon bowl to the sinks, giving it a quick rinse before putting it on the racks. You walked out of the hall, letting your feet take you where your mind wanted to go.

You closed the door to your new room, taking a seat behind your desk as you took out two sheets of paper, and some crayons Father had gifted you. While the rest played and had fun, you were in your room, scribbling away as best as you could with your black crayon. With your second piece of paper, you took out more colors from the box.

Father was always there for you.

You’d be a bad kid if you didn’t do the same, right?

The other’s idea of a celebration was tricking Father to go to the playroom, then cheering and singing happy birthday to Father while they played with Father. That meant that Father was unavailable to give you your daily lessons on how to properly play with your new toys. Fortunately you were busy too.

You entered the kitchen the moment you heard everyone else chant happy birthday in all different keys, the wide empty space with high workstations and cabinets sending doubt into your head. You shook it away, closing the door behind you with two hands, before taking a small tour around the space you would work with. Seeing that dinner was just served, all the cooks were done, leaving you a window of time to carry out your plan. Using a nearby stepping stool, you climbed onto the counters, reaching the high cabinets that were attached to the roof. Just as fate intended it to be a cooking book fell onto your lap, flipped to the page you wanted to go on. You closed the cabinet door, placing the cooking book by your side as you placed your boots on the stepping stool. 

Father said you were good at looking for what you needed.

Father said you were good at doing what you wanted to do.

You prayed Father was right.

With the big book set on one counter, you scurried around the kitchen, gathering all the required ingredients and items you needed next to the book. You found two more stepping stools, allowing you to move around on each stool like different stations. 

Father said your academic level was higher than the rest; you were doing exams meant for ten year olds.

“Pour… flour… in a bowl…” You muttered, finger on each word. You did as the instructions said, scooping out some flour and dumping it into a bowl.

“Egg…Sugar…Mix… Bake…”

For the rest of the day, you buried yourself in work, making what they called a ‘batter’. You had nearly dropped your hard made batter when you had to place the mold inside the oven, a new lesson learnt the hard way. After as much time as the book said, you took the mold out, this time wearing the funny shaped gloves on top of the counter next to the oven. With all your strength, you lifted the baked circular batter into a cart, before wheeling the cart back to your workstation. As the batter was baking, you had prepared a frosting, as they called it. Using a flat rectangle shaped object that had its corners rounded out, you spread the frosting over the top of the cake, before adding a fresh cherry to the top. 

The celebration had stopped. 

You heard Father’s voice tell the children it was time for bed. You gripped onto the counter, trying not to get shaken by the earthquake created by the hoard of orphans storming up to their room. Holding your breath, you waited until you couldn’t hear Father’s footsteps anymore, before letting out a sigh. You placed your finished cake on a pretty plate, using two hands to hold each side before exiting the kitchen.

~

You let out a deep breath, looking at the gold and crimson ornate double door in front of you. With the papers in your pocket, cake in hand, you used your shoulder to turn the doorknob, stumbling into Father’s office. 

“Y/N?” Father. You turned around, facing Father. Father was behind her desk, hand moving from her forehead to her chin as she looked at you with a playful grin. Since your back was still turned to her, she couldn’t see the cake you made.

“I was worried sick about you, my dear. I didn’t see you at the celebration the others held for me.” Father chuckled. “Where were you? Not even the caretakers or workers could find you.”

You opted to not answer her question, rather hobble your way over to Father’s desk with your little legs. You placed your creation on the same place Father had set you when you got injured. Father looked at the cake, her eyebrows raised as she tried to conceal the grin that was spreading on her face. She pointed at the candle that was stabbed into the cake next to the cherry with her index finger, and the wick was instantly lit on fire. 

“U-Umm…. I overheard it was Father’s birthday… so I wanted to do something special for Father…” You mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve as you tried to maintain eye contact with her. “I-I made you a cake. I t-tried my best. Would Father care to try my cake?”

Father let out a chuckle, looking at you with a soft and warm gaze. “You made a cake? All for me?”

“I-I wrote a c-card too…” You pulled the card and the second piece of paper out of your pocket, placing it next to the cake.

“Y/N… I…” Father chuckled, the corners of her mouth reaching her eyes. You’d never seen her look at you like this. Yes, she was always happy and cheerful. But never this much. Even as she tried to conceal it, you had spent enough time with her to know that she was feeling much more than a simple grin. 

“Of course I would love to try your cake.” Father took the fork that was placed next to the cake, digging out a portion of your creation before putting it in her mouth. You could’ve sworn you saw a glimmer in her eyes. She took another bite, nodding her head and smiling at you.

“D-Does Father like it?” You asked with a worried tone. 

“I love it, my dear.” Father hummed, forking out another chunk of your cake, putting the fork in front of your mouth. “Why don’t you try your own creation?”

“But it’s Father’s cake.”

“I insist.”

“O-Okay.” You wrapped your mouth around the fork, chewing on the cake you made. A smile crept on your face as you swallowed the bite. Thank the gods you had actually made food and not poison.

“Come here, my child.” Father patted on her laps. You walked around her desk, climbing on her laps as you looked up at her. She continued to spoon feed herself and you, wiping away any crumbs on your lips with her finger.

“H-Happy Birthday, Father.” You exclaimed.

“Thank you, my dear Y/N.” Father smiled at you, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “I loved it, my little cook. This was the best birthday present ever.”

You could feel serotonin rush through your body. “R-Really?”

“Yes! Why would I ever lie to you, my dear?” Father hummed. “Thank you for such a wonderful birthday gift, my dear.”

~

Arlecchino sat on her chair, a sigh exiting her mouth as she looked at the card you had written, as well as the piece of paper. She had read a quick bedtime story to you, tucking you into bed before going back to her office. Arlecchino opened the letter, as the words entered her heart, fueling that flame of hers she carried and protected.

“Father,

haqqy dirthbay. I hoqe you hab a goob bay anb are haqqy. thank you for everything you bo for me. i really like my new toys.

Y/N.”

We had zhongli as a big brother, now I'm presenting:

scaramouche as a big brother, and that includes sharing mommy issues

.💭

ah, yes, the shortie with anger and mommy issues himself. anon, be honest, do you actually want this man as your older brother because i'd be concerned (/j).

1) communicating through insults. if there is ever such a thing as an allergy to speech, he'd definitely be allergic to each one besides sarcastic remarks and jibes. that is the language he is most fluent in, alright? deal with it.

2) concern hidden in plain sight. he looks out for you from afar such as dispatching a subordinate to report your status to him without your knowledge or making sure that there's nothing in your way — he plays it off, though. scara claims it's because he "can't trust you for one second", but it really is because he's a little worried that you're getting roped into some stupid trouble.

3) the mommy issues... he'd prefer if you don't, or better, never bring up that god in any conversations with him. he doesn't want to be reminded of her in any way, he doesn't need words of comfort nor can he offer them to someone else, even you. all he can do is to let you deal with them on your own because that is how he deals with his feelings on that wretched event in his history. (wdym sibling therapy sessions? nah, we don't need that <3 /j)

Yandere Scaramouche who can't bring himself to be soft in your presence. Softness is weakness, and you'll pounce at any moment of weakness from him. But he still loves you, more than his mechanical heart can contain, so he shows it in less than kind ways.

A box of chocolates will be haphazardly dropped into your lap with him standing above you, arms crossed and a frown on his face. He'll gesture for you to take them, trying to hide the raging blush that's forming on his cheeks.

"Take them, they're disgusting," he'd grumble before walking off without another word. He'd never buy himself chocolates. Not willingly. His hatred for sweets was more than common knowledge to you, he gagged if you even put a drop too much sugar in his tea. Yet somehow, he'd come to aquire a box of chocolates.

And not just any box. Your favorite. A kind that was only found in Mondstadt. Having a bit of an acquired taste, they never got popular around Teyvat and were hard to come across anywhere else. You remember mumbling to yourself about how you missed their taste a few short days ago and now here they were, on your lap. Despite your hatred for the man, you felt a smile forming upon your lips.

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.

When something (or someone) is stealing your attention.

characters: al haitham, kamisato ayato, raiden shogun (ei), scaramouche (wanderer)

cw(s): general yandere themes, dark themes, mentions of captivity, mention of gaslighting (once)

──⚝ al haitham

Probably doesn't even notice and if he does, sees no reason to get worked up over it.

Al Haitham practices control over his emotions — more so, the less rational ones, through assessment of the given situation. Sometimes, you can almost see apparitions of the cogs turning and twisting in his irises. So, when he sees your insistence on ignoring his existence, he merely sits down somewhere close and resumes where he left off on his own book. It's you who is concerned from his lack of acknowledgement, stealing glances to see him having his merry time. After all, those light novels can only occupy your attention for so long and after re-reading the same text for who-knows-how-many times, you'll be forced to come to him (yet again another disadvantage of being held captive). He'll have his revenge then.

──⚝ kamisato ayato

His time is precious, more so the time he gets to spend with you, so, not a chance.

Somewhere in his corpse of a heart, there is guilt for the position he has put you in. His pride wouldn't let him admit that though, it claws its way out and blends in some of his actions. Ayato loves you too much to ignore the obvious forlorn look etched on your visage for any longer, your eyes are loud in the demand for freedom and it's been proven that not even an estate full of servants and people are enough to satiate your loneliness. So, when he gifted you the caged canary, he thought he'd finally see you smile again. Instead, it bites back at him and steals the last scraps of your attention. Ayato is displeased, to say the least and he makes it quite clear. If you still insist on being ignorant although, he'd have to resort to crueller methods. Fear not, he wouldn't allow a scratch to appear on you but, he cannot quite say that for your bird friend. After all, he's not ignorant of your attachment towards it or, of the resemblance in situation it has to you. Let this be a warning.

──⚝ raiden shogun (ei)

She's not jealous. Pssh, only a child could get jealous over something like this. You're merely interacting with her pet. A teasing pet who whispers suggestive comments in your ears every three seconds and — is she touching you now?

Gaslights herself for as long as possible because Celestia forbid should she succumb to this feeling of jealousy, in front of this menace of a kitsune moreover, she'll not hear the end of it. In her pursuit of an unchanging eternity, she has triumphed over the trifling mortal emotions. So then, why is it that all of her carefully constructed euthymia crumbles when it comes to you? Without doubt, you're an impediment to that perfect eternity, a weakness and yet, she fails to let you go, refuses to let you go. The mischievous kitsune utilizes it to her fullest entertainment, revelling in both your flustered reactions and Ei's crumbling ataraxia. If Yae Miko does manage to snap the last straw (which she does), Ei will quickly rush her out of her realm to cackle over the victory somewhere else. Then, it's up to you to smother the blow.

(You'll be surprised at how soon she melts.)

──⚝ scaramouche (wanderer)

Depending on which time of his life you manage to win over his non-existent heart, the reaction varies.

Kabukimono does not even feel it at first. Though, as his admiration and observation of the humans deepens, he eventually manages to make out some semblance of the unpleasant feeling. He'll never blame you though. It's... uncomfortable for him as he's new to it but compared to his future selves, Kabukimono is far more forgiving.

Kunikuzushi, newly familiarized with the cruelty and ugliness of the world is not so soft. He's constantly on the edge, questioning your loyalty and anticipating a betrayal. You'll have to put in a lot of sweet talking and loving caresses for him to strengthen his trust in you. Once you've gained it whole, you'll have to be even more careful. I'd advise not adding to his number of betrayals.

The Balladeer's perception of the world is twisted, he simultaneously doesn't want to trust you and is ready to give you the highest position of his heart (whether you like it or not). He's much, much more expressive and violent than Kabukimono but narrows it down to you lesser than Kunikuzushi (that does not mean you're off the hook entirely though). If it's an item that has you ignore him then poof! It's gone, now pay attention to him. If it's a person...then, they're also gone :).

Wanderer (after regaining his memories) is levels above the pettiness of his previous selves, so much so, that he ascends to a whole new degree of it. Rest assured, you won't be on the receiving end of the creative ways in which he deals with the sources, just be prepared to deal with one clingy menace.

aww what if scara’s darling copied his red eye makeup, whether to catch him off guard or because of boredom

at first, scara's narrowing his eyes because hm. there's something different about you. he sees you everyday, he could accurately describe you from memory for any artist commissioned to paint your likeness. this familiarity has even the slightest change in your appearance sticking out like a sore thumb. seriously, you could change lip balms and he'd notice. he's weird like that.

with this in mind, you assumed he'd immediately point out the rouge pigment painted around your eyes. instead, he marched up to you, taking your chin in his unnaturally cold hand for an impromptu examination. after observing you from every possible angle, it hits him. the color, the shape, the placement—

—he blushes and sputters some incoherent spiel about 'ulterior motives' and 'shamelessness.' don't take the insults personally, the poor puppet is malfunctioning. for you to have replicated it this well, you must've studied him at length. did you find him handsome? had you noticed he changed his conditioner, giving his hair a glossier finish?

these thoughts run rampant in his overclocked brain.

good luck trying to convince him you did this out of boredom. he's convinced this is a subconscious sign of attraction, any evidence supporting the contrary goes in one ear and out the other. the power of delusion is unmatched.

Uh just a thought:

cw: yandere, cussing, bad grammar, scara being scara, Childe is Childe, fatui, blood is mentioned at least 1 time

Imagine a Y/N\Reader who does everything for their family, so like your brother/sister/mother/father anyone you love!! got super sick and the cure for it is expensive as hell! (8,765,432,765 mora)

So you work for the fatui to get better expenses, you were skilled enough to immediately be recognized by your superiors—ahem, harbingers— and the first one to recognize you was Childe. Childe is just so down bad for you, he loves fighting with you, anything that gets your attention, if he could, he'd always have you by his side when he does missions.

And there's this thing, your fellow friend (who's been to the fatui far longer than you) in the fatui had a gambling habit and would make bets. One time they talked about giving away millions of mora to whoever gets to be The Balladeer's secretary and survive for 3 months.

You, eager for the mora, you immediately did too well, acted like you were obsessed with him to amuse him, did so many things to the point of getting Scaramouche's attention, he finally made you his assistant.

Of course Childe is pissed as fuck. How dare this midget get you before him??!!

At first Scara was just humoring your fake obsessive behavior just for entertainment, telling himself he'd throw you away soon and laugh at your fake reactions.

3 months passed and Scaramouche started humoring another fatui agent in an attempt to get you to break and snap and make you jealous, you used that opportunity to slowly part ways from him. He took a whole week to notice how you were basically disappearing from his life. You didn't leave the work though, you did the remaining paperwork and missions before disappearing.

Scaramouche who slowly notices the difference in his life when you left, you left a great impact in his life. This new fatui agent he humors doesn't do as well as you do, they keep fucking up to the point that Scara doesn't find it funny anymore. Yeah, he admits, your perfectionist personality helped a lot in his work, you were boring yeah, but at least you got the work done! After yelling and punishing the fatui agent for fucking up again, Scara grits his teeth and walks out to cool himself down.

But that's where he saw you sparring with Childe. Childe is out here feeling gleeful that you were finally back to him, while you just went back to him because you are an agent under him.

The sparring ended with Childe winning, you almost won, but Childe was stronger as expected, he walked up to you and almost gave you a kiss before you pushed him away, shocked. Childe frowns, he keeps you caged in his arms, he doesn't care about the dirt, blood, snow, and sweat that mixes when he has you in his arms, what matters is you.

Scaramouche, gritting his teeth in anger and getting more frustrated and annoyed than ever—why is that obedient pet of his with Tartaglia?— he's mad.

You felt that cold and electric glares sent to you, you judge your head and saw Scaramouche watching the both of you hug with a blank face, fffuck. You were not supposed to be seen by Scaramouche.

And Childe notices it too, he smirks and holds you closer, nuzzling his cheek on your hair.

Scaramouche was about to rush into both of you and demand an explanation, but why does he care? He isn't supposed to care about something like this! He always said he could replace you anytime, but he never said you could replace him.

I want to add more harbingers to this thought, imagine Columbina and Arlecchino 😻

Ajax’s children are scared of him, Diluc’s daughter loves him, what about Scaramouche? You did write a scenario where his darling had a miscarriage, if it’s in the same universe what type of a father would he be if his child was born? He did seem excited about the baby so I’m curious how he would treat the baby if it was alive.

Quite honestly, I touched on it, but Scaramouche is definitely the hardest father to write for!! But girl dad Scaramouche is what we're going for!

Yandere! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

Forced Marriage AU

TW: mentions of forced pregnancy

Purple. The color of his hair. The color of his clothes. And apparently, her favorite color as well. She never wanted the yellow spring kimono or the girlish pink one, but always a deep purple. She'd twirl in the mirror in awe of herself, watching intently as you put the many pins and ornaments in her hair.

She inherited his face. You hated Scaramouche more than you could ever express, but you didn't mind the fact that little Momo got his face, even down to his expressions. Her large eyes were sharp, and if it weren't for her wide smile she always had, people would think she was angry. When she was lost in thought, she looked the same way he did when he pondered in silence. And when she ate, she held her chopsticks the exact same way as well. A little mimic of him, only cuter and sweeter, with rounder cheeks and a bigger heart. 

“Will you wear the same color as me today, mommy?” Momo tilted her head back to look up at you, her beaming smile still on her lips.

You nodded. You couldn't say no to her. Not while she was being so sweet and asking as politely as she could. You had a soft spot on your heart for her. More than a soft spot. You loved her more than you could ever imagine, especially something that came from Scaramouche himself. Partially because of the guilt. The disgust you felt with her in your stomach. You remembered wanting to ride your body of her. 

You can't remember what changed in you. Maybe it was that maternal instinct finally kicking in, or maybe it was the loneliness. Laying beside Scaramouche at night still left you with a crippling, crushing feeling of isolation. Until you felt her little foot kicking inside your belly. You'd rest your hand on your tummy and she'd kick again, almost as if telling you that she was with you.

“And father will be wearing the same as well?” She smiled in the mirror as she spoke. So innocent. So naive. In her eyes, you, her and Scaramouche were the perfect family. He was a loving father and husband and you were a doting wife and mother, just like the books she read or the puppet plays she'd watched. There was no way you could bring yourself to tell her otherwise. Not when she herself was too sweet to understand the truth.

“Of course. He loves to match with us,” you'd say with a gleeful smile. And love it he did. He loves anything that meant being closer to you and closer to her as well.

Almost as if he knew he was being spoken of, he entered the room. His face, which would be frightening to anyone else with a deep snarl and furrowed eyebrows, was comforting to little Momo. She beamed up at him, practically bouncing and down and she twirled to show him her kimono with her long flowing sleeves and the many pins in her hair.

“Well aren't you lovely,” he said, kneeling to gently pet her head in the way she loved. His eyes then turned to you, also dressed in that same rich purple, less ornaments adorned your hair, but many bracelets decorated your wrists instead, “And you are breathtaking.” 

Mentally you grimaced at the compliment from him, but physically, you smiled.  He knew how to push your buttons, Momo was his daughter after all and despite her young age, she was rather perceptive. She'd notice immediately if you didn't act like a character in her books, like the loving mother and the caring father. 

With his signature smirk, Scaramouche pressed a kiss against your lips, his other hand on your waist. Just like the characters in Momo’s stories, a romantic kiss between lovers, and for Momo's sake alone, you'd allow it.