Sinking Into Your Arms

behind the screens (3k milestone special event)

summary. a sneak peak of what happens to your characters, every time you log in and out of the game

includes. self-aware! and various! genshin men characters

[ 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎 ]

first and foremost, thank you for the continuous support for this writing blog, as it really means a lot to me <3.

behind the screens, is a 3k milestone special event, that has something to do with SAGAU (Self Aware Genshin AU). after knowing that this genre is quite known in the fandom i decided to dedicate an event about this, and tried to create multiple scenarios connected to it.

each scenario, would consists of different sets of characters, that were voted by the voters themselves through a voting form i last posted.

[ 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ]

GLITCHES — when they find out that you’re planning to delete the game under a few reasons

feat. xiao, scaramouche, heizou, zhongli, kazuha

YOUR FIRST — they overhear a conversation about who was your first favourite character in the game, and unexpectedly grows jealous about it (soon!)

feat. scaramouche, thoma, childe, xiao, dottore

I’M THEIR FIRST?! — they overhear a conversation about who was your first favourite character in the game, and didn’t expect for their name to come out of it (soon!)

feat. kaeya, cyno, diluc, xiao, heizou

CHARACTER BANNERS — when you do not plan to pull for their character banner (soon!)

feat. xiao, itto, dottore, venti, scaramouche

ONLY FOR YOUR EARS — ‘new’ voice lines about them after becoming self-aware, and only you can be able to hear it (soon!)

feat. childe, kazuha, scaramouche, ayato, dottore

[ 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ]

EVICTED — when you kick/bench them out of your team (soon!)

feat. venti, diluc, kaeya, kazuha, thoma

BACK ON TRACK — when you add them back on your team after being benched (soon!)

feat. kaeya, thoma, childe, diluc, heizou

COMPETITION — when you add another character who has the same element as them on the team (soon!)

feat. xiao, heizou, venti, diluc, childe

AUTO-PILOT — what do they do when you haven’t logged in your account yet? (soon!)

feat. xiao, thoma, dottore, zhongli, childe

ISEKAI’D SHENANIGANS — the time has come, you got isekai’d to the game and the first that you see, is your team (soon!)

feat. xiao, venti, zhongli, heizou, diluc

Charisma Etched on Strings

You despised being near Scaramouche. It was a danger to your well-being.

Because all you can feel is the warmth of his body traveling to yours, enclosing around you and morphing into the oxygen that you so desperately need to survive.

Gn! reader x Electric guitarist!Scaramouche

Notes: I swear this one has no set pov. It switches between Scara and the reader so I apologize for that. Also, I'm not that good at wiriting x readers *insert crying emoji*

Warning: Slight cursing

It was supposed to be a harmless guitar lesson.

So how the fuck did you end up sitting on this shithead’s lap?

“Easy sweetheart. Stop squirming," Scaramouche’s grating voice reverberated throughout the otherwise empty room. The words he spouts are pestiferous, enough to ensure a fist will land on his face if he doesn’t shut up soon. You merely asked him for a guitar lesson, not to be manhandled and subjectively humiliated by this sick bastard of a friend. “Get me off your lap!" you protest, writhing against his arms. 

You want nothing to do with this. 

Yet he cages you with that god-forbidden instrument of his, propping the black, electric guitar in front of you. You were effectively sandwiched between that handsome son of a bitch and his prized musical instrument. “You said you wanted to learn right?" he mused, his calloused hand cascading down your wrist to seize it securely, "This is the fastest way." 

Lies. 

You scoff at his pathetic excuse to justify himself. He’s just so full of bull. You know he was amused at your predicament, your thrashing and twisting igniting a twinge of sadistic pleasure within him. Scara shifts slightly, a lock of your hair twirled around his index finger, “Now stop moving so we can start our lesson.”

Without much of a choice, you reluctantly compelled to his demands. Your tantrums ceased, much to Scara's entertainment. He knows how much you detest your current dilemma and he couldn't help but take advantage of it. He wants to mess with you. To increasingly rile you up every passing second. He presses his chest completely against your back, wanting to see those cute little veins of yours pop out. His lips twitched upwards as he made sure there wouldn't be any space left between you two. He could hear your pretty lips part and verbalize a gasp. 

A sweet, sweet treat for his ears. 

He couldn't be bothered to give you a chance to retaliate. It was way more fun toying with you when he rendered you helpless. Leaning closer and letting his breath fan against the tip of your ears, his fruity voice resounds through your brain and into your spine in the form of shivers. "Let's learn some basic chords first," he murmurs as he slinks his fingers towards yours, hovering over them. Scara felt the smirk on his face expand, you sure do have a warm set of hands. He surely wouldn't mind if it was pressed with his all the time. Stuck in his wishful thinking, he absentmindedly squeezed your thumb lightly. He blinks. Ah, he was getting distracted. He clears his throat and he proceeds, "Just like in every lesson, we start with C". 

He adjusts your index finger to pin the second string on the first fret. He does the same with your middle and ring finger, stationing them on the second fret of the fourth string and the third fret of the fifth string respectively. His loitering fingers aid in pushing down the strings as he's aware that you're probably not pressing down hard enough. It also helped restrain any movements that may disrupt the sound when plucked. You, on the other hand, verbalized a protest. 

“Hey, that hurts," you hissed as you tried to lift your finger off. Even just slightly. But Scara wouldn't let you. He remains unfazed, unbothered by the fact that your fingers are possibly bruising underneath his. “It’s supposed to idiot, it's your first time,” Scara rolls his eyes and his resolve to keep your finger position doesn't falter. 

You'll definitely punch him after this. 

“Now strum,” he instructs and you've got half the mind to not follow through. Curse your curiosity though, washing away each and every one of your senses, dulling them and allowing it to control your other hand to strum the strings. It made a tune, not akin to those voice cracks of teenagers going through puberty or screeching bats when viciously searching for their next meal. It was a pleasant melody, a fine sound that signifies a correct mark. Scara smiles, watching in delight how taken aback you looked. "Good. Next chord," he was ready to shift the position of your fingers once more. Your fingers wouldn't budge though. You've reached your limit.

You've certainly had enough. 

Your heart's been racing since the beginning and you were sure you won't be able to take it anymore. Not with him being this close. You catch a whiff of his perfume, a woody fragrance with a base of leather that never fails to drive you insane. You want to smash your head against the wall so badly.

You despised being near him. It was a danger to your well-being.

Because all you can feel is the warmth of his body traveling to yours, enclosing around you and morphing into the oxygen that you so desperately need to survive.

"This is stupid", you scoffed before he could move your fingers. Scara tilts his head in your direction. Oh? Were you going to object to him again? How cute. He chuckles and raises his brow, “What is?” 

“Your way of teaching.” With a groan, you go back to your squirming strategy to try and break loose from his predatorial hold, “Can't we do this without being an inch away from each other?” 

Scara merely laughs at you. ‘Why? Does the closeness bother you?" he teases. He would get closer to you if he could, but there's literally no more space left between you and him. So he opts to angle his lips adjacent to your neck and let out a drag of air. His breath brushes against your skin, parallel to a gentle caress from a lover. He was so sure he just heard your breathing hitch. Adorable.

“Is this better?” he smirks, heaving a drawn-out breath once more. You shake your head and writhe, flailing your arms wildly in a fit of fulmination. Scara can't help but grin at your antics. He doesn't back down, reinforcing his hold over you. He won’t let go. I mean, why would he? When you fit perfectly in his arms?  

Your scuffle abated for a second and he caught the way your face turned into a stunning shade of red. “Aw, you're even blushing for me," he remarks, prompting you to resume your thrashing.

“Of course not! Why would I be!?” 

Scara chuckles, his gaze never leaving you. "Why the denial? Anyone with eyes can see how red you've gotten because of me."

You wanted to wipe that smug expression plastered on his face. He knows that. He's just reveling in the fact that you couldn't. 

He elevated his head to meet your twitching ears, ready to grace them with an assortment of breathy words bound to hit that sore spot in your heart. "There's nothing to deny you know? Not when I'm right here. Mindful and observant of how you feel towards me."

His fingers dragged from your jaw to your cheek, leaving a touch so sensual it's flabbergasting at most. He rested his hands along your cheek as he spoke with an allure that was sure to keep you on the edge, subconsciously thirsting for more. "I know you like me. You like it when we're this close," he continues, cocking your head up and exposing more of that tempting throat of yours. Not that he can see it from his point of view, but from the front? It would certainly be a sensual sight that would drive every inch of his self-control onto the edge of a cliff. 

"I don't mind it though. I don't mind watching your pathetic descent into the abyss of my heart," he chuckles, hands falling towards your lips. It was quite the contrast, his rough fingers kneading against your soft and plump lips. 

"So just fall for me, yeah?" his thumb rubs your upper lip in a circular motion. Honestly, he's tempted to shove his finger in your mouth. He wants to hear your feeble whines as he occasionally toys with your tongue, your erotic whimpers that deluges his entire sensibility. But he doesn't. At least not now.

"I'll be sure to catch you"

Self-aware Scaramouche and a Reader who basically adopts him? Casually chats with him during the boss fight, praises him for his determination and skill, apologizes for kicking his ass and uses all their wishes to bring him 'home?' A sort-of platonic Scara simp, basically. (I've been hyped for him and the Childe rerun since the recent 3.2 leaks, I never thought I'd be anxious for October to end)

I love scaramouche, kind of.

Exceptions

Scaramouche never felt the need to make exceptions, just like the Shogun.. well her sister, exceptions are enemies. But, this exception... he'll tolerate you.

When you played through his backstop, the only thing you felt is heartbreak. How could a series of such misfortune events be fated upon him? He doesn't deserve it, atleast, you do.

When he first became self aware, he was confused. A god? How ridiculous, no, a human? They deserve but the worst fate. But you were nothing like his experiences, you were different. You weren't his parent, but you felt so much like one.

When you met him he was self aware, you were also pretty confused, how could this happen? No matter, you promised yourself that you'd be what Ei wasn't: a parent, a mother.

You might look insane, but you didn't care. Through a screen you talked to him daily, showed his love when nobody could. You were his friend, his family.

You dread every week where you have to fight him, and he knows that too, he understands. You'd praise him and shower him in compliments, you were oh so focused on him that you never realized the other characters were self aware, and they praised you as a God.

You didn't know, but Scaramouche knew. He doesn't plan on telling you because you might abandon him for the others.

He'll basically gatekeep you when you get isekai'd one day.

By The Fractured Altar.

Yan Scaramouche x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, codependency dialed up to the MAX setting, and Dottore shows up for a second so sorry about that in advance. Word count: 4.6k.

i.

The first time the Wanderer thinks he’s lost you, he learns that every moment of fear he ever experienced before paled in comparison.

He awakes with a start. Lying beneath a blanket of gleaming stars, his eyes are slow to adjust to the low lighting, the once roaring campfire calmed to a hush. Its surviving embers nearly rival the magnificence of the welkin above in their glow. An empty pail sits beside the concaving wood that once stood so proudly. From this, he assumes he fell asleep before you. You always made it a point to put out the campfire before you both turned in for the night. In the warmer seasons, the Wanderer didn’t mind; it wasn’t until autumn’s chill nipped at his cheeks that he questioned your reasoning.

Keep reading

Bonjour

I'm back mootie🗣️🗣️

Could I request something w Scaramouche (in his Harbinger era) with an adopted kid (somewhere around 5 or 6 years old if possible)

I'm gonna be specific, so the ask could get a bit long, sorry😔

So he adopted the kid when he hadn't joined the Fatui yet (maybe before the betrayals? But could be after too) and he noticed the kid never aged, they were just stuck as a little child, both physically and mentally

But the kid could die if they got seriously hurt, so he never lets them wander off because he doesn't want them to run into danger and get crushed by a ruin guard or something like that

But one day he had to leave the kid alone, so they were left unsupervised in whatever place the Fatui stay in

And while they explored the place (since they never got to explore much) a random Fatui agent found them

Let's say that agent is a really bad person, the agent decides to hurt the kid because he assumed they were trespassing

Then the agent tosses the kid outside whatever place the Fatui stay in and leaves them there

The kid was too hurt to actually get up and get help (I don't think little kids would do well in these situations anyway) so they just accepted it and waited for something to happen

Cue Scaramouche finding the kid after searching (I think he'd find them quickly) and he's both worried and pissed (worried cuz his kid got hurt and pissed cuz someone did that to them)

The kid is too scared to say who hurt them so Scaramouche takes matter into his own hands

He finds out who hurt his kid and kills the dude (or does something else you can decide what)

And then everything goes back to normal (but Scaramouche is even more reluctant to let the kid wander alone after that incident)

If this is too much you don't have to write it!!

Take your time and take care of yourself too mootie‼️

Au revoir

Puppets

pairing: Platonic!Scaramouche x child!GNReader – wc: 2,1k – tw: bruises, child abuse (?) – a/n: HI MOOTIE!! It's been a bit of time since you sent me this ask sorry for the late reply 😞. I hope you can enjoy this <3 – reblogs and comments are appreciated!! – @gayestsillybilly

Dreams; small figments of consciousness existing inside one's unconscious state. A puppet wasn't supposed to sleep, let alone have dreams. However, when Scaramouche closes his eyes, it's as if the entire weight of his existence is lifted from his shoulders. For him, this is just further proof of his most unfortunate flaw.

There were few nights in which he would actually fall asleep; the vast majority of his dreams consisted of little memories of his time in Tatarasuna, scattered like little pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. And while Scaramouche was in the realm of dreams, a little one kept an eye on him.

His sleep was soon interrupted by hands that touched his face, poking his cheek and wiping away a small tear that had unconsciously fallen. Hands that resembled wood, but with a sort of human softness that disguised their artificial nature.

Underneath the fearful gaze, was a secret The Balladeer kept from the rest of the Fatui: the existence of a little puppet that followed him around like a baby duck following its mommy. A puppet whose intellect never evolved beyond the knowledge of a six-year-old, thus making them more of a conscious doll. And that doll was no one but [Name] themselves.

And so Scaramouche decided to get up and make some hot cocoa, like he used to prepare for them every time he was in Snezhnaya with them. It was a simple drink, yet their favorite one in this unforgiving cold.

“What are your dreams about?”

With a small sigh, he tried to look away so as to not answer [Name]’s questions. Curiosity once killed the cat, and he was damn sure that the same would happen to them one day.

“Nothing you should worry about.”

“And who said I'm worrying about you?” their tone was nonchalant; and even though he knew it wasn't ill intended, that was too straightforward.

“Oh.”

[Name] smiled at him before putting their small cup of hot cocoa away. A puppet didn't need to eat to survive, and Scaramouche couldn't understand why they enjoyed eating and drinking the same things almost everyday. Did they really need such a routine?

“You probably already know, but I'm—”

“Going on a trip again.”

They were being so nonchalant today that it made Scaramouche a bit surprised, despite his expression not having changed a bit from its usual neutral complexion. [Name] wasn’t like that, so there was definitely something wrong with them.

“You’re not usually like this, huh?” He raised an eyebrow before kneeling to reach their level.

“I don't know… I don't have a good feeling about you going away this time.”

Scaramouche sat down by their side, fixing his hair before placing his signature hat on. He wanted to find something to tell [Name] to try to relieve their fears, yet couldn’t think of anything motivating and just put his hand on their hair; he had done it many times for it to get repetitive, but this was the only type of affection he knew to comfort them.

‘Okay, I’m ready…’

[Name] finished packing the little stuff they had, mostly trinkets given by Scaramouche. Some stuff like a mask from Inazuma, a flower music box from Fontaine and a Snezhnayan doll. Scaramouche wouldn’t take them with him, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t sneak in his adventure. He would scold them, yet there wasn’t anything he could do about it when they’re already there.

“What are you doing?”

Scaramouche appeared behind them, making [Name] try to hide the bag by throwing it somewhere in the snow.

“Nothing!” They gave Scaramouche a “good kid” smile, hiding completely their mischievous plan from him.

“You already know the safety rules, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I know. ‘Don’t go too far, [Name]!’ and ‘don’t go near people with masks’ and stuff like that…”

He couldn't help but cross his arms in response to their tone. Deep inside, Scaramouche knew he was being a bit too overprotective; yet he didn't want to lose them like he lost the others, though [Name] was immortal just like him and there was no way he would be left alone as the time passed by.

But deep inside of him, a small sparkle of fear was enough to justify his dread. And along with this fear, came the need to protect them. So as long as he lived, [Name] would be safe and happy.

“Exactly. So just stay here and wait until I come back.”

[Name] was already used to being alone as he went on errands for the Tsaritsa, but they always missed him a lot. Though they knew he would just come back as he always did, something was bothering them.

He couldn't take them with him, not when his hands would be dirty with someone's blood; that would only make the only source of kindness left for Scaramouche afraid of him. Having [Name] openly next to him just increased drastically the chance of running into The Doctor along the way. They were the only secret he made sure that no one else knew about — especially Dottore; his worst nightmare is having [Name] end up in The Doctor’s lab.

“Then you'll have to bring me sweets,” they grinned while hugging his leg.

“We'll see how it goes.”

He gave them a weak smile, a rare sight reserved specially for them and no one else. If anyone else saw the Sixth with a genuine smile like that, chances are that they would be found dead by the next day.

His fingers tenderly caressed their head in a comforting manner. Scaramouche didn't want them to feel sad about his departure – though he knew they were already used to being left alone – since he would eventually come back to them.

Scaramouche had passed through three betrayals and, deep inside, he knew they would mark their fourth soon or later. However, he couldn't gather the courage nor the will to abandon them before being abandoned first.

“Can…”

He looked back at [Name] before removing his hand from their head, waiting for what they were going to say.

“C-can you give me a hug before going?”

Their arms tightened around his leg, not letting go of him anytime soon; at least not before he attended to their request. Their actions certainly caught his attention, since they rarely asked for anything other than candies or trinkets from whatever corner of Teyvat he went to.

“...”

Scaramouche looked at them, then elsewhere, and finally decided to take action by kneeling down to hug them. His hugs were uncomfortable since he was not the best at giving them; his hand wrapped around them carefully as he sighed. It didn’t last long, as he soon separated and turned around.

“Goodbye.”

That was what he said before going away, leaving [Name] standing in the snow. But it wouldn’t stay like this, since they would follow him again.

[Name] took their bag, cleaning the snow out of it, and went on their adventure. They hid in the woods before sneaking in a small boat Scaramouche had entered; they didn’t know where it would lead to, and after hours of traveling, the ship arrived somewhere. It didn’t look as if they had reached their final destination, so a camp was going to be built.

‘Hehe, I did it…’

They left after everyone else and put their feet in something that wasn’t snow for the first time. [Name] couldn’t help the big smile plastered on their face, they were too overjoyed to. And their eyes scanned around to look for Scaramouche, but didn’t see anyone.

“Is this what they call green gra—”

“You.”

A deep voice called from behind them, a fatui soldier carrying a gun was what they saw when turning around. A person with a mask, just like Scaramouche had alerted them to be careful of. And like any kid in their situation, [Name] tried to run away only to be grabbed by the hair.

“What are you doing here? This isn't a place for kids.”

They couldn’t see his eyes, but the anger coming from the man made [Name] shiver. A new emotion ran through their veins; was it fear? Dread? No, it was pure horror. And as if analyzing them closely, the soldier quickly lost patience and just threw them away like a sack of potatoes, making [Name] hit a tree very hard.

“Go away before things get worse to you.” He didn’t even look at them before going back to his spot, watching around to see if there was anyone else there.

As [Name] stood up, they noticed something terrible. They thought it was over until they felt something, something missing. Their left arm was lying on the ground; they weren’t just hurt, they were broken.

And in panic, they took their severed arm and ran away into the forest, not caring about anything else around them. Their face was full of tears, making [Name]’s vision blurry as they rushed and tripped on a few stones and roots; But they were too desperate to even trip.

Suddenly, [Name] bumped on something, or someone. As they looked up, they saw a familiar face: Scaramouche! They had finally found him, and he was definitely going to protect them.

As for Scaramouche, his eyes widened when he saw them. His jaw dropped when he saw them holding their arm. “What the hell are you doing here!?”

They flinched at his question, looking down. [Name] was embarrassed from having disobeyed him and ending up like this; but Scaramouche wasn’t mad at them.

He told them to wait for him where they were before going back to get something he could use to heal that terrible wound. And they waited, already having stopped crying.

“Tell me, who the hell hurt you?”

He stared deeply in their eyes, almost begging for an immediate answer from [Name]. But only sobs left the child's mouth as they held their broken arm.

"I'm broken now? Do I have to be thrown away?!”

[Name]’s voice carried a desperate tone that made Scaramouche look down, he couldn’t help the visible frown on his face as he pondered about the options he had. He himself didn't know what to do now; despite being puppets, the two of them had different compositions. What repairs him wouldn't repair them.

The only person Scaramouche knew that had the capacity of fixing [Name] was…

‘The Doctor…’

He pushed the thoughts aside and bandaged their arm, making sure to connect the forearm to the rest with a piece of wood that would be used for the campfire that night. It wasn’t going to magically heal itself, but at least they [Name] wouldn't have to carry a severed arm around.

“You won't be thrown away. Don't even think about it.”

Scaramouche then placed a hand on their shoulder and looked them dead in the eye, making sure they would understand what he was about to say. The silence between the two of them was agonizing; he was waiting for [Name] to say something, anything, that would allow him to make a decision between staying here to coddle them — not that he had much experience at coddling crying children — or going after the culprit and beating the shit out of them.

“But you need to help me here and tell me who did this to you?”

[Name] pouted, tears coming back to their eyes as they tried to wipe it away before telling him the truth.

“A scary man with a mask…”

The description definitely matched someone Scaramouche saw in the troop. Oh, that guy was doomed now; he would make him wish he was dead.

“I’m sorry… I did something wrong and it happened.”

He didn’t like seeing them apologize for something like this, so he just took their right hand and made them follow him. It was silent in the woods, making the atmosphere peaceful.

“There’s a city nearby, let’s get the candies you wanted and then go home.”

Scaramouche was going to make sure they felt better after this. Of course, they had lost an arm and he didn’t know how to fix it without The Doctor, but he wouldn’t risk losing them to him. He wouldn’t be betrayed again.

“You’re not mad at me?”

“No, I would never be mad at you.”

They had both broken promises here; he didn’t protect them from getting hurt, and they didn’t follow his orders to be safe. Though there was nothing he could do now, having a peaceful rest of day was what the both of them needed.

“We have each other, don’t forget that.”

“I won’t…”

And so they marched to somewhere they could be happy for a while. He was definitely going to pay more attention to them from now on, and they ouldn’t be that reckless for their own good. Bad things happened, but they were there for each other, and it wouldn’t change.

LOCKED AND LOADED [Yandere!Wanderer x Reader]

Prompt: The world is about to end. How will you grieve when you're forced to be with a miserable man until the last second? [Dedicated To: @mixed-kester for the Alone Together Event]

Content Tags: yandere!scaramouche "fluff" oneshot (yes, there are no other parts:]), major persona 3 spoilers but you DON’T need to know the game before reading this since everything is explained, improper use of a S.E.E.S evoker /j, Scaramouche is so normal about you, UNRELIABLE NARRATOR, major character death/s–

V. Acceptance.

"Where the hell are you, (Y/n)?"

Standing near what should have been the front doors of his university was a short man with dark purple hair. He leaned precariously against them, his head tilted upward as if the sickly green moon's ominous pull was nothing to be afraid of. Gekkoukan University's nearby dorms– fraternity and sorority houses included– are not usually this silent. Instead of people, coffins were aligned perpendicular to the ground.

The wanderer glanced at his watch with mild interest. He had been waiting for a while now. Your guest hoisted himself up, circling the ground with the tip of his shoe. The baseline of his attitude had always defaulted to irritability and passive-aggressiveness. The vertically aligned hour-and-minute hands do not placate it. The timing itself makes it worse.

It's December 31st, 2009, 12 AM– the Dark Hour.

With a harsh sneer, he pocketed his hands. You usually have the door to the Velvet Room open to him whenever. What's the big deal? Were you seriously THAT mad at him? Really? He didn't do anything to warrant this "pettiness". He had never known silence as much as this moment.

You should've accounted for the hostility that proceeds on the "off-chance" he did arrive early.

His tone darkened, his bloodied hands gripping his S.E.E.S evoker tightly.

"If you don’t show up, I will cleanse the world of human emotion all by myself"

You shook from afar, afraid of how he wouldn't hesitate to make his threat a reality. He had already taken so much– you were beyond mad at him. You were terrified. Wronged. Abused. You didn't want to step into the light. Much worse, step into his shadow.

The worst thing evil can do is to turn you into one of them.

He clutched the bloodied yellow scarf in his hands tightly.

Why did this happen?

How did things END up like this?

IV. Depression.

You took a deep breath and charged forward.

You don't trust [Wanderer] ever since Ryoji told him about the impending apocalypse.

Seldom do you leave the Velvet Room. You weren't hiding in the Velvet room months before the end of the world was imminent. When April had only reached its fourth day, there was nothing you wanted more than to spend time outside. So ignominiously innocent. You did not know who [Wanderer] was and how much effect he would have on your life at the time. You were just tired of the ongoing stream of uneventfulness.

And now here you are, berating the protagonist in full.

"[Wanderer], why is Ryoji missing?! US ATTENDANTS CAN'T FIND TRACK HIM ANYWHERE!!!"

With a fistful of his university uniform, you yanked him by the collar. Your eyes were livid as you reeled your composure. This wasn't what you had in mind when you were "isekai"d into a video game. Out of any game, why did it have to be Persona 3? And out of anyone that could be a protagonist, why did it have to be HIM?!

You thought this would be a grand affair... Whatever they spun in anime back when your reality existed were pure lies. Where are the scenic views? The mountains? The grasslands? This plane of existence you're forced to sit through for eternity was far from the RPG fantasy people would hope for. No closer you could ever be to paradise.

In fact, this man is threatening to ruin said paradise.

[Wanderer] pulled your hands away forcefully. His glare was not that different from yours. "Why do you care about him so much?"

"Oh, I don't know! Maybe it's because his death means forgetting everything?!" You clenched your empty fists. "You know damn well what happens if he dies! You'll lose all the help you can get to stopping the Fall!"

Such a heavy weight on your shoulders but the protagonist doesn't care. This may be a turn-based game– but it wasn't based on you. If it was, you wouldn't be screaming your heart out at him! You wouldn't be an NPC. Hell, you'd probably be a better protagonist than him.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and sighed every stress out of your system.

"Listen—" You rubbed your temple. "You need to start forming bonds. Social links. Support system. Confidants. Whatever you want to call it. You were supposed to have the answer by now as to what life is for."

[Wanderer] remained silent throughout your spiels. His facial expression alone was enough to infer immense disinterest. You were mindlessly doing your job. There will be no tirade or physical aggression that can convince him that you believe in your assertions with full conviction.

"Do you want to see him?"

"Yes! Of course. Knowing you, you're—"

"Tempted to kill him because you think I want the world to end?"

"Obviously."

That's where you're wrong.

A nihilistic man can have other reasons to commit murder.

"But if he's missing, you can forget about him, right?"

"What on earth are you talking about?!"

[Wanderer] turned around. "Meet me later, you know the time."

"I'll show you where Ryoji is."

III. Bargaining.

XX/09/2009

He doesn't recall the time he was brought into this world like you had.

Puppets are malleable. Memories are easy to overwrite when your body is held together by white wood and "khemia". His past evades him.

Maybe it's better this way.

He took you to Chagall Café. Although it was your first time out in a long while, he had no qualms about ignoring your questions. He feigned deafness as you asked about the news, his college life, friends, or anything related to what was happening in 2009. And he even ignored your humble request to buy the cheapest coffee for you. Instead, he bought you a chocolate frappe.

"For Elizabeth's cutest little sibling." He said, sarcastically copying Elizabeth's tone as he sharply handed the drink. "Wouldn't want everyone's darling to get a caffeine addiction."

Thanks, asshat.

Of all his offensive behavior— he really spent more money just to insult you. You shook your head and accepted it. It's the most expensive one on the menu too. What dedication to being a hater. But before you could open your wallet, he shot your payment down.

"Just take it." He smirked. "Look at you, paying me back for treating you poorly. Are you a masochist?"

You immediately shoved your money back in. "You still bought me a free drink, so really, who's the loser here? Prick."

[Wanderer] laughed heartily before he pulled out his battered codal, which had underlined texts for provisions he deemed important. There was a momentary softness in his gaze that disappeared in an instant.

But that's the only conversation he planned on having that evening. He did mention he'll drag you out in his study session so you weren't too shocked by it. Instead, you sat and awkwardly people-watched. The world you came from and this one were identical. You got through your old 2009 just fine— it's just that Tatsumi Port Island was not a real location from your original Japan.

Your memories about the video game Persona aren't very clear since you reincarnated in the game, but the red band [Wanderer] wore on his sleeve affirmed that he is the leader of S.E.E.S. It's nice to know that someone like him has the potential to become a leader.

[Wanderer] appeared wholly immersed in his studies.

…

Maybe he wouldn't notice if you looked around—

…?!

He immediately grabbed your hand. You yelped slightly as you noticed the iron grip he had.

"Where are you going?"

Don't leave him.

He squeezed just a bit more tightly.

"W-What the— I'm just going to the bathroom." You felt a shiver down your spine as you shared his gaze. There's a dull coldness to it you couldn't quite place, as if he had been a witness to injustice, sevenfold.

You quietly sat back down. He still hasn't let go of your hand.

"Good riddance." He muttered.

"If it isn't [Wanderer]!"

You turned around, yanking your hand away.

It's Ryoji.

You stood up, gawking.

"W-Woah, are you okay?" Ryoji asked, hurriedly approaching you. While you were frozen in place, [Wanderer] looked at his empty hand, feeling your warmth escape his fingertips.

G-Good… he's still alive.

You thought [Wanderer] killed him.

[Wanderer] is the wildcard, and that's a terrifying factor to consider. He hasn't shown any interest in humanity. Knowing his past has not increased any hope on your end. Everyone else in his eyes are insignificant insects.

He has the power to end Ryoji.

He has the power to end this world.

Locked and loaded.

Ryoji's eyes softened. "Wait, I think I know a beautiful face like yours from somewhere… You must be [Wanderer]'s attendant, (Y/n), right?"

You blinked.

"Wait, how did you…"

He chuckled, taking and placing a soft kiss on your gloved hands.

"I have my ways." Ryoji winked.

"Don't touch them." [Wanderer] sneered.

Ryoji stood up straight, unfazed by his threatening tone. You took a moment to examine his appearance. He had a lot of white clothing and a big yellow scarf around his neck. Just below his left eye is a mole. On the surface, he appeared quite human, but everyone seated at this table was aware of his true nature.

He is the 13th arcana. The appraiser.

You and [Wanderer] have every right to be wary.

"I'm Ryoji Mochizuki. It's nice to be officially introduced to you, Mx. (Y/n)."

"Ryoji Mochizuki…" You tasted the syllables.

"Oh? Who knew hearing my name from your lips makes it sound so wonderful."

"C-Cut it out, you don't mean that." You said, a little flustered.

[Wanderer]'s gaze fixated on you, stewing in his concoction of envy and misery. His fists were clenched beneath the table, knuckles turning white. With narrowed eyes, he watched as you continued engaging in conversation with Ryoji. His laughter was grating his ears. He couldn't bear the sight of you engaging with another man, especially someone as flirtatious as him.

Ryoji, sensing [Wanderer]'s distress, shot him a casual glance. To top the look, he paired it with a knowing smirk. He made mental notes of the man's clenched jaw and tensed shoulders.

"You seem a little on edge, [Wanderer]. Finals coming up?" He feigned innocence.

"It's December, and I'm not on edge." He scoffed, trying not to make his gritted teeth evident. "Don't you own a calendar? Finals are in March. To think a pea-brain like you managed to transfer to Gekkan…"

"Right, right." Ryoji smiled, closing his eyes. "Then it must be my proposal you're thinking of."

You stiffened; [Wanderer] did not.

"Ryoji—"

"I know, Mx. (Y/n)." He started. "I know you're not too keen on the idea of killing me. My existence is the affirmation of the Fall. None of you— sorry, I forgot (Y/n) is from the Velvet room— I meant none of them will live till Spring… Or perhaps it's more accurate to say they'll forfeit the will to live."

…

"… I-I'm sorry." Ryoji buried his face in his yellow scarf. There's a certain tremble in his voice that truly emphasizes his sorrow. "Just as all living things die, the flow of time cannot be hindered. But there's comfort in killing me. If you do… you won't have to suffer for the coming days."

If [Wanderer] kills Ryoji, Tartarus, the Dark Hour— the burden of everyone's memories will all disappear.

But [Wanderer] can retain his.

He's not originally from this world after all…

However, should he let him live, the rest of S.E.E.S's life will continue until everyone's inevitable demise.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

[Wanderer] rolled his eyes, diverting his eyes back to his notes. "Everyone will die soon, who cares? I've heard your spiel several times already. You need to get more entertaining material."

"[Wanderer]!" You scolded him.

Your eyes widened in disbelief at [Wanderer]'s unwittingly casual jabs at the apocalypse. You wanted to ask him if he was even listening, but the truth will disappoint you. A cold sweat formed on your brow.

Ryoji's smile crooked into a hopeless one.

"You depend on (Y/n) too much."

[Wanderer] froze. "What did you say…?"

"You have a group of people around you, eager to establish a bond— eager to be friends with you. You have met Junpei, Yukari, Mitsuru, Akihiko, Fuuka, and many others– but you don't consider any of them as your friends." Ryoji shook his head. "Instead, you spend your time with just (Y/n). Never anyone else. Just them. To the point that I think it's unhealthy."

"I don't care for humans." He replied immediately.

"You're human too, [Wanderer]." Ryoji shot back. "You're made of blood, bones, and flesh."

[Wanderer] fell silent. What Ryoji said was true, and yet…

"Am I?" He laughed.

The sound was hollow and mechanical. Deprived of genuine mirth. It did not sound forced, yet his eyes were dull.

…

Perhaps he lived as a puppet for so long that the idea of being human has yet to reach him.

Ryoji shifted, uncomfortably glancing between you two. The tension was palpable despite the cafe's peaceful ambiance. Ryoji cleared his throat softly.

"I should leave…" He trailed off, voice slightly wavering. His eyes darted around, scrambling for words to say. "But, um, before I leave, I just want to say again that you need to give it some more thought, [Wanderer]... It's a big deal… Just…"

Ryoji sighed. "Remember to make your choice to spare or kill me by December 31st. I'm glad you're having fun but don't get too distracted with (Y/n). I'll be waiting."

That being said, his footsteps reverberated loudly in the otherwise still room as he turned and headed for the door. He dared to turn back as he grabbed for the doorknob and saw you two sharing a look that he couldn't determine if it was one of contemplation or displeasure. He hurried out and the cafe door shut behind him.

"Happy?" [Wanderer] bitterly asked.

You paused for a moment… then grinned.

"Tsk, what are you laughing at, worm?"

"Nothing, nothing!" You shrugged. "I just thought that for a guy with a stick up his ass, you're cute when you're jealous."

That riled [Wanderer] up in an instant.

You do not know the full extent of his envy's filth.

"I am NOT—" He stopped, realizing how counterproductive it would be. "Whatever. I don't care."

"Uhuh?"

"Shut up and finish your damn chocolate!"

II. Anger.

Before you know it, it's April.

"Seriously, you three, I'm bored as fuck! Can't I just take a stroll outside?" You yelled, waving the heavy persona compendium in the air as your sisters ignored you.

It hasn't been long since you reincarnated, so your right to go outside isn't as liberal. Given the impending threat of an apocalypse, the Velvet Room attendants are especially overprotective.

"(Y/n), dear sibling, watch your mouth! You mustn't let Igor or Nameless hear you speak so vulgarly."

Taking a good look at your new "siblings", you've noticed how almost everyone was present. Margaret sat elegantly on the sofa while Theodore & Elizabeth were doing their best to calm you down. It's almost rare to have all three in one place. The three oldest were busy-bodies who had more eccentric matters they devoted their attention to. Including rapping and dancing, though neither performances are good for your senses.

"If boredom plagues you, then you should try teasing Theodore." Elizabeth yawned. "He's easy pickings."

"Sister!" Theodore pouted. "Shouldn't (Y/n) focus on studying how fusing works? It would be a better use of their time…"

"The day (Y/n)'s new wildcard learns the value of social links might just be the day miserly politicians become generous." Elizabeth shrugged.

You paled, tugging her sleeve. "Oh fuck… Am I screwed?"

She gave you a lopsided smile. "I may be your new sibling but that does not mean I am obliged to resolve your problems, (Y/n). Learn to solve this on your own."

Theodore coughed.

"Please, stop scaring them, sister Elizabeth. It's not their fault this new guest is a cruel arbiter. I fear there will not be a second of groundless joy in store for them…"

"You're not helping me relax either! Motherfucker. Can't you two speak normally?"

"Settle down, all of you."

The four of you stood straight as Igor tilted his chin up. Though you've gotten used to his bloodshot gaze, it had a way of prickling your skin this time around. With his signature smile, he closed his eyes and snapped his fingers.

"Our guest is about to enter."

"W-Wait, RIGHT NOW?!?"

Before you could react, the room transformed into what appeared to be a large elevator. The walls were barred and creaking noises began to subtly make their presence. A floating door materialized, and soon, opened.

Dark purple hair and eyes, short frame, soft face.

"…Hmm?"

You blinked.

"Wait, no way…"

You know him.

Of course, you know him.

"Everyone, meet [Wanderer]."

You decided that you two should reintroduce yourselves and forget that the past ever happened.

For now, you had been gifted with a vital role: being the protagonist's attendant.

According to your Igor, your role is to assist your guest in fusing personas. He had chosen you specifically in advance as you are his "anima/animus figure". Initially, that job was for Elizabeth. However, your beliefs, your intuition, your emotions— they're in perfect tune with [Wanderer]. Igor expects you to facilitate their spiritual and psychological growth and implore them to interact more with others.

Which, based on that alone, sounds like this puppet just hired an unpaid therapist.

"What do you want?"

"Well…"

Since you became [Wanderer]'s attendant, you've started to have thicker skin. He will always make his crankiness known each visit. You're slightly grateful for it, for how else would you know patience otherwise? Though his personality rubs you the wrong way, his strength does have merits you cannot ignore. Even Belladona, the Velvet Room's devout singer, had sung praises for his mettle. There was one line that struck you about her song, something about him being like a puppet with a beating heart unbeknownst to himself…

Which is why you thought you might as well try to see if you could convince him to take you out sometimes.

"What, like a date?" [Wanderer] scoffed then smirked, a light blush on his face. "Are you really that desperate?"

"No, eww—" You rolled your eyes. "I meant it literally. Igor and the others wouldn't let me go outside unless I'm with someone they trust."

He looked away and covered his mouth, his shoulders trembling slightly.

"Like a child?"

"Yeah, yeah, shut the fuck up." You deadpanned, your pride slightly chipped. "Like a child or whatever you want to see it, as long as it gets me out of here. I just want to see the world before it all…"

You paused.

Better not to bring it up. You're not sure if Igor told him yet.

[Wanderer] raised an eyebrow. "What's in it for me?"

You shrugged. "Is money not enough?"

He paused.

…

"You've got to be kidding me— Fine, what else do you want?"

His eyelids lowered, hissing slightly. "Evil expects evil from others, huh? I wasn't trying to think of anything more, but now that I think about it…"

"Oh, great."

"… I can take your request," he pointed at you. "But only if you join me in the library. Anywhere else, especially loud places like clubs, I'll send your ass back."

That's a no-brainer.

"Deal!"

Though you've missed the peculiar sight, [Wanderer] had a small smile on his face as you shook hands. The two of you had become nearly inseparable since then.

Worryingly, he's closer to you than other humans.

The only relationship he needed was with you.

And with what little time this world has left, you hope you could have a last cup of coffee with him…

I. Denial.

Your reality crumbled. What a START.

Your family, friends... all gone. No one was left. You convince yourself you "deserved" this punishment for smoking a life away with dreadful workloads, no matter how untrue it was. When the world burnt down, you were sent into a darkness you had not known before.

The person in charge of your reincarnation process told you that for the next few minutes, you and a selected companion will see your lives flash before your eyes in a void— and it will not necessarily be a comforting sight.

But you woke up relaxed. In an abyss filled with broken mirrors meant to depict your character to pieces, you donned a plain expression. There was not an inch of you that grieved for what was lost. Similarly, you had no care for how you were being transmigrated to another realm. Though you had grown accustomed to this isolation, humanity always struggled with silence. There was ringing on your fingers. When you unclasped your hands, you saw a pointed shard. Curiously, you clenched it. But no matter the tightness of your grip, no blood came out.

Your breath fogged up the glass. You wondered why that Memokeeper told you that you deserve to live on. You thought your life was rather unremarkable.

Makes sense. You thought to yourself. I'd rather pride myself on a boring life with integrity than an ambitious yet fraudulent one.

「Assignments. Commute. Study. Review. Assignments. Commute. Study. Review. Was that all your life was...? Then tell me, little (Y/n), why does the mirror in front of you appear distorted?」

And so, you gazed forward. Your reflection stood tall, larger than your life, and it beckoned you to come closer. This "(Y/n) (L/n)" had the opposite of a Cheshire grin- perhaps a caricature- perhaps an accurate depiction. Wearied of yourself and wearied of the sycophantic students around you. How unhappy are you to see yourself as someone like this? Are these the emotions you wish to be preserved? Is this the memory you want your world to be remembered by?

「These memories must be corrupted. Someone must be tampering with them. I do not think you lived a miserable life.」

I can't answer your questions either. But I think that reflection is who I am, because sometimes...

"I wish I had never been born at all."

Your lips were parted, but no sound came out. You resonated with those words, but they did not come from you. The voice was dark, hopeless, and alone.

When you were being sent off, you thought no one was around to greet you. There was another man. He had short hair and purple eyes- an incredibly rare sight in your world. This man seemed to be gazing at his reflection as well. You needn't know how he saw himself. The emptiness in his eyes did not differ from yours. He, too, was masking isolation as independence with an intense fragility. The dread he inflicted upon you was the closest you've ever gotten to facing your own perceived "weakness".

His memories were a mixbag. Some were filled with domestic bliss, but the anger in his heart triumphed more. He had friends but thought himself betrayed. His heart was constructed through a system of evasions, and he was a specialist in self-deception. This man knew little of emotions but had an abundance of it. It's no wonder he refused to sacrifice the artistry of his vengeance against humanity. You can sympathize with how he could not attach himself to those around him. He was burdened with malicious knowledge. Fakes. Lies. Insincerities. A class of his own.

However, he had a sin you cannot empathize with. A trait you can read that you're certain he had never noticed about himself.

He was a sickeningly beautiful man with a peculiar innocence.

He looked like a man who truly did not live in the real world.

This man did not feel real to you. He felt made-up. Fictional. His aura of flawlessness appalled you. Though you shared the same sentiments, you thought him dimensionless.

Yet this is supposedly your first meeting.

「Is it? Where have you seen him before? Can't you remember, dear (Y/n)?」

No. No, I can't.

「... What a shame. Worry no more, little (Y/n). Close your eyes. When you wake up, you will meet your new reality— new realm— new family.」

You nodded and agreed to a higher existence you did not believe in. Unlike others, you were a little bit more incapable of trusting a living soul. But there's no other choice.

Life is ordinarily far from anyone's control in the first place. Why bother fighting? If following can make her fuck off, it doesn't matter.

Nothing matters.

Wait…

Is that…

Scaramouche?

Before you closed your eyes and accepted your fate, you could've sworn...

He looked at you with a crooked grin.

「Thou art I... And I am thou...

Thou hast established a new bond...

Thou shalt be blessed when creating

Personas of the Universe Arcana..."」

"Hmm. Strange… Is that truly the order of the story?"

A woman stared at you.

Not (Y/n) (L/n).

YOU.

BEHIND.

THE.

SCREEN.

She smiled wryly.

Hate might empower you for a short while, but it comes at the cost of consuming you whole. Should a shard or any surface reflect [Wanderer]'s face, he would understand what he had become. However, it's too late. He had made his choice and stomped away any remorse he could have. When all is said and done, he alone will spread the ashes. He alone will stand. A blank slate.

[Wanderer] spent his life looking for scapegoats and ended up removing his responsibility.

Betrayals?

What a sad, sad puppet.

What a poor excuse to justify an entire apocalypse.

A poor excuse of a man.

"THE ARCANA IS THE MEANS BY WHICH ALL IS REVEALED." She muttered softly. "And you have been reading your story in REVERSE. Perhaps this is the only way this world can attain SALVATION. The chronological order is not a slice of life. You did not have a disagreement and decided to start your relationship over again. Life is far more WICKED."

"Read it again, but from DENIAL to ACCEPTANCE. The proper way to GRIEVE DEATH."

With great reluctance, she took the five cards laid on the table and placed them in an upright position.

"Let's see if you'd rather ACCEPT the truth or live in DENIAL."

Mixed-Kester can now message Wanderer [prior to 12/31/2009]

can I ask whole alphabet with lillia vanrouge? Maybe imposter au?

Warning: Yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Lilia Vanrouge.

Note: By imposter au, I'm going to assume you mean they have sentience. So the imposter au but without the imposter part. I've kind of been trying to keep it so that there would be no difference, no matter the au. It's a little difficult, but I'm managing.

Letters: A - Z 

✂ Affection. How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get? 

     ✄ When you asked the universe for someone who would love you, you didn’t expect the universe to toss you a short enigmatic being that’s thousands of years old and may or may not have committed war crimes, someone who dresses like an edgy teenager and has the same interests as one, who also recently decided to try and blend in with young mages at a school. And yet here you are, now trapped with this crazy(?) old bat. 

     ✄ Lilia is a naturally caring figure. After all, he has cared for several people in his lengthy lifetime. This ancient fae is one of the most open with his feelings and plentiful in his affection. He just thinks you're simply to die for! You’re so endearing and adorable that he constantly finds himself cooing over you. Kisses, hugs, and other gestures of affection are fairly common. He enjoys surprising you this way. Pressing a big kiss against your cheek suddenly so your face heats up in embarrassment, surprising you with a hug as he appears seemingly out of nowhere, a fleeting whisper and giggle by your ear when he’s no where in sight. He loves to take in all your expressions and reactions, and besides he can’t help but tease you a teensy bit. 

     ✄ He doesn’t get worried much, but he does concern himself with your needs and wants. Although he isn’t tripping over himself to follow out your every will, he does quickly and efficiently complete your requests. He’s not desperate, particularly violent, or rash, but he’s obsessive and a little delusional. Perhaps that’s the worst part. He isn’t tiring himself out just to see you smile, he doesn’t lash out, but he’s just utterly fascinated by you. He truly believes he’s doing what’s best for you. Words can’t describe his strange form of love directed at you. He’s an enigma. Sometimes it’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking or feeling. He doesn’t ever become cross at you, he treats you almost like a child that can do no wrong. But maybe that’s precisely what you are in his twisted vision. A precious youngster he must care for, whether you want his love or not. 

✂ Blood. How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

     ✄ Extremely. Let’s not forget that despite his youthful appearance, this is an ancient fae we’re talking about. He’s witnessed countless deaths, catastrophes, and wars, his hands are stained and would be overflowing with enough red to drown him. He’s a decorated veteran who's fought in many battles. Lilia can go from taking on and easily defeating a group of attackers, and in just ten seconds he’s back by your side to force convince you to lay your head on his lap and rest. 

     ✄ However, he won’t kill just to kill. He’s both strong and intelligent, so he can easily ward off any enemies with words alone. Besides, he doesn’t actually want to end a life if he doesn’t have to. He can very easily kill any troublesome people that try to interfere in affairs solely between you and him, but death isn’t needed. It’s more of a last resort, which is never needed since Lilia always gets rid of the problem one way or another. Instead, he’ll usually resort to warnings that sound vaguely threatening. Lilia will casually bring something up, a weakness of his enemy, when warning them. Something like: It would truly be a shame if your signifiant other were to discover you went missing. Believe me, I know, the thought of losing an irreplaceable loved one is simply unbearable. I’m sure you wouldn't put your own beloved in such a situation, would you~? 

✂ Cruelty. How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them? 

     ✄ There’s a 50/50 chance that you would be kidnapped, and it’s a thing that happens on a whim. If you are abducted, well, now that your officially under his care (he was determined to make this happen, preferably when you agreed to the idea), you’ll be treated like a princess/prince. You didn’t even know it was possible for him to become more affectionate and teasing. Lilia has raised and watched his own fair share of youths, so no matter how you behave, he’s prepared. He won’t ever mock you. There’s no need to feel ashamed or frightened, this is for your own good, you know. 

     ✄ Don’t be so sad, he’ll wipe your tears away as he comforts you in your sorrow. Is this truly so bad? You’re not alone, you now have him. You also have the others he raised, Malleus, Silver, and Sebek, to keep you company and protect you whenever he’s away. This is your home now, and he’ll be your family.

✂ Darling. Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will? 

This one isn’t really that big of a deal. Having Lilia around is every so slightly vexing. He tends to mess around with you a lot. It’s never enough to the point of frustrating you or making you angry, but it is tiring and even a bit annoying. It seems that he’s always trying to catch your attention in the oddest of ways, it’s practically become a game for him at this point. Even if you try so hard to ignore him, you simply can’t. He won’t let you. He just wants to bask in your attention, so why not get it with a little fun? You can’t ignore him when he appears out of nowhere, right in front of you of all places. His big deep red eyes gazing up at you with an eager twinkle in them, and since he’s so close you can’t help but notice the little fangs on his smug grin.

✂ Exposed. How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling? 

     ✄ Sometimes, there will be moments where you think you figured this fae out. You may try to predict his behavior, words, or actions, only for him to do something completely unexpected. It’s like he knows, he knows that you’re trying to piece him together but he doesn’t let you, only making it harder for you to figure him out. At times you truly do believe you understand him, especially when he’s been particularly soft, like when he’s fixing your hair or humming to you. He’s genuine, he makes himself vulnerable for you but it’s as if he goes back to this unpredictable mystery as soon as you decide to end the moment. Just how much is genuine? Does he even bare his heart to you? These are all questions you’ve yet to get an answer to. 

✂ Fight. How would they feel if their darling fought back? 

     ✄ Entertained, actually. When you try to fight back, argue, or do anything of the sort, he listens attentively with this smile on his face that almost feels mocking. It becomes clear that he’s hanging onto your every word, carefully watching your every move. It’s as if he’s listening to a child throw a tantrum, a kid crying over spilt milk. Still, he waits patiently until you’ve finished and he applauds your efforts! It’s humiliating, it makes you feel as if you were truly nothing by a baby whining, but these are important matters! This was your freedom you were talking about! He’ll then pat your head and smile as he asks: My my, you certainly had a lot to say and a lot of feelings bottled up, dear. Did you get everything off your chest? Was it fun? Are you calm now? There’s truly no winning this. 

✂ Game. Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape? 

     ✄ Oh, no, no, of course it’s not a game...! Initially, at least. Well, it can become a game with enough provocation and insisting on leaving. Really, he tries so hard to make it comfortable for you here, he was beginning to believe that perhaps you were starting to settle in nicely, only for that not to be the case. But if this is the way you want it to be, so be it. He’ll play along until you tire yourself out and willingly return to him. Lilia will allow you to make escape attempts, just to see how your mind works and where the flaws (that allow you to get closer to escaping) he must fix are. Then when you believe you’re so close to achieving freedom, he appears to return you home, squashing your hope. You may have thought you were close to winning, but Lilia was carefully monitoring you the entire time. So truthfully, you were never once close to the freedom you desired. 

✂ Hell. What would be their darling’s worst experience with them? 

     ✄ Lilia treats you gently and he cares for you greatly, even if he is bothersome at times, he always means well. It seems like he’s never ever angry, not even when you act up against him. But he is to be feared, even though you know in your mind that he would rather stab himself than actually physically hurt you. But let’s remember, you are his dearest, no one else. Perhaps your worst experience with him, failed escape attempts and irksome teasing aside, was catching a glimpse of the violence he was capable. Again, he would never even think of lifting a blade or casting a spell against you! But others? If he must, they will not be spared. 

     ✄ Lilia had left you in the care of Sebek and Silver while Malleus kept you company. Silver was relatively understanding and easy to sneak away from given his habit of sleeping, plus he tended to trust you a bit more. Sebek was harder to shake off, but when Malleus had taken his leave for a moment, Sebek was determined to follow. You knew by now that escape was useless, especially since Lilia would be back any moment now. However, there was something you wanted to see. Both Lilia and Malleus had warned you to not check the orb today, a magical crystal ball the ancient fae had gifted you so you could see him whenever you missed him (like that would happen). But for the first time, you were tempted to use it to satisfy your curiosity. Now that Silver was peacefully dozing off, and Sebek with Malleus were out of the room, it was the perfect opportunity to check the crystal ball. Carefully approaching it, you stared at your reflection before murmuring, show me Lilia. And just like that, you saw him in the orb. All you saw was red on his fists as he stood over the figure of a stranger that lay still in an unnatural position, before a hand from behind you quickly enveloped the orb, blocking you from seeing the rest. It caused you to jump, the sight you saw for a split second making you feel dread. The hand had belonged to Malleus, and he merely gazed down at you while speaking, “Understand that a being like him who’s lived for many millennia and has done many deeds in his lifetime, will have enemies. Enemies that will find out about you and kill you if given the chance, as you are his weakness and you cannot defend yourself. So for your own sake and his, listen the next time he instructs you to do something.”

✂ Ideals. What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling? 

     ✄ A peaceful simple kind of life is all he wants. In his eyes, it will be short due to the fact that you're human and he’s fae, he knows that, and it kills him. But he tries to live in the moment, the way he’s always lived. So he doesn’t think too much of the future. Although nothing would make him happier than seeing you learn to accept him with all his strangeness and begin to get along with those he had a hand in raising. If you could get along with his son Silver, learn to tolerate Sebek with that prideful nature of his, and even become friends with prince Malleus, then he would be satisfied. 

     ✄ After that...? He’s not sure what he’ll do after. He doesn’t even want to think about it. He doesn’t want to force tortuous forbidden spells on you that would destroy your humanity in exchange to let you live longer, but at the same time he hates the thought of a world without you. There are legends and stories of reincarnation... perhaps he’d dedicate all his time and effort into finding you again.

✂ Jealousy. Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope? 

     ✄ No, actually, which may not be that surprising. In fact, you’ve never seen the ancient fae get jealous before. Lilia is confident in himself. He’s also a bit showy, so even in the public eye, he won’t hesitate to nestle into your side and have your arm around his shoulder or float behind you with his arms wrapped around your neck like a scarf as he nearly hangs off you. It’s clear that he’s trying to signal that he’s yours and vice versa, and it’s especially obvious judging by his self-satisfied grin. 

✂ Kisses. How do they act around or with their darling?

     ✄ Playful and doting. When you are present, his toothy smile will be constant and he becomes a bit more mischievous. He’ll keep up appearances in public... sort of. Not really though, unless you insist. But it incredibly obvious that he’s involved with you, as if the close lingering touches and the innocent batting of his eyelashes he gives you aren’t signs enough. In private, it’s as if his affection increases even more. He’ll urge you to sit on his lap as he games on his pc; when he has his face against the crook of your neck and you least expect it, he’ll blow raspberries just to startle you or make you laugh; or in more peaceful times he’ll simply hold you in his arms as he talks about anything and everything. 

✂ Love letters. How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

     ✄ Honestly, you probably should have seen this coming from a mile away, before the romantic gestures there were pink/red flags. After all, sometimes this fae has no filter, he just speaks his mind. There was always something he’d say that was off, too many compliments, but you simply brushed them off as him being kind. That is until the letters began arriving. See, Lilia is old, and he’ll admit that he greatly prefers courting through the traditional manner. Actually, it helps him gain your attention, because who doesn’t appreciate bouquets of flowers, long letters sealed with sweet smelling wax, and his attempts at serenading you by screeching singing a song he practiced in his club? It’s probably safe to say that you were intrigued by his attempts, and perhaps even interested in reciprocating. You needn’t know about the darker details of his growing obsession with you. This is all going so well! This is where the 50/50 chance of kidnapping you or maintaining a seemingly normal (as normal as it is to date an ancient being) relationship comes into play. 

✂ Mask. Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else? 

     ✄ No, actually. The Lilia everyone else knows is the same Lilia you know, except you see him as far more affectionate. He has nothing to hide. At least, that’s what he says, but he’s still a mystery to you and most everyone else. Anyways, the only time he may act different, is if someone is a real threat to you. This can’t just be anyone, it takes someone powerful for him to take on this frightening persona, and you won’t see how quickly he goes from cooing over you to plotting this enemy’s death and where to hide the body.

✂ Naughty. How would they punish their darling?

     ✄ Punish you? No, no, no! Come now, he wouldn’t to that.

✂ Oppression. How many rights would they take away from their darling?

     ✄ He wouldn’t. I mean, he could, he most certainly could limit your freedom, but he wants to give you the benefit of the doubt. Besides, it’s not like you can get very far anyways, whether he be there or it be the others. Please, believe him, he truly only wants the best for you. He doesn’t want to upset you, so he won’t risk it by taking away your rights. He’s seen how people have withered without certain rights and freedoms, and he doesn’t want that for you. The most he’ll do as punishment, is lecture you.

✂ Patience. How patient are they with their darling? 

     ✄ Very. Extremely. His level of patience must be as long as his life, it’s astounding. No matter what you do or what you say, he won’t ever snap. In fact, he only continues to smile at your pathetic efforts, which makes you begin to lose your temper. There is nothing you can do that will cause his patience to dwindle. You aren’t sure if he has the patience of a saint or if he’s just keeping face so you won’t win, but you’re starting to think that the answers leans more towards the former. It seems that he almost knows what you’re thinking when you wonder if it’s a calm facade of some sort, and his content little smile turns to somewhat taunting. As if daring you to try and get him to crack. It felt as if his eyes were telling you: Go ahead, tire yourself out, it’ll be cute to see you try~

✂ Quit. If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on? 

     ✄ Escape? Not happening. Leaving? He won’t let you. But death? Death is practically certain. It’s almost guaranteed that Lilia will outlive you. He’ll mourn like anyone else would, but then he’ll quickly wipe his tears and get to work. What’s he doing? Why, trying to find you again, of course! He never particularly believed in or paid attention to the stories of reincarnation in the past, but now he’s researching endlessly. To him it doesn’t feel like you’re truly gone, it just feels like you’re on a lengthy vacation and he’ll see you again soon. The thought of reuniting again fills him with such joy, it makes his heart throb just like it used to when you began exchanging love letters. The reminder that perhaps you’re out there somewhere again, is enough to keep him going until he finds you. 

✂ Regret. Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go? 

     ✄ No, he feels no remorse. This was for the best, it was for you. It was necessary, for your wellbeing. Here with him you would be safe, you could be happy too. There is no letting go. He wishes to spend as much time as possible with you, he wants to treasure every single moment and create as many memories with you as humanely possible. Please, grant him this wish. 

✂ Stigma. What brought about this side of them? 

     ✄ Like previous times, I’ll answer this one the same. It depends on the au. 

✂ Tears. How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves? 

     ✄ Oh dear, oh dearest, oh darling, don’t cry! Lilia has this unexplainable ability to comfort and calm those around him, whenever he sets his mind to it. You’re no exception. He using his thumb to wipe away your salty tears, and he’s still smiling. It isn’t mocking, but rather, it’s a soft and gentle smile that soothes you. He slowly shakes his head at your state, speaking softly to you. He isn’t teasing you, or mocking you, but he’s genuinely comforting you with kind words of comfort. Using his magic, he got a box of tissues to float closer and a warm cup of your favorite beverage set itself in front of you. Come, tell him what’s caused your sadness. He’s a wise being, so he’ll come up with suitable solutions. There’s always the chance that he caused it, the stress of the sudden change may be too much. If it is, he won’t mind, he’ll simply have to try harder to make this place more homey for you. He’ll simply have to do everything in his power to make you happy here. 

✂ Unique. Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

     ✄ Let’s see... Lilia gives you a lot of freedom, in fact, you have actually freedom. You’re simply being monitored wherever you go and whatever you do. Which is still surprising, considering that he may or may not have kidnapped you. For a yandere, it’s rare for them to be so lenient and forgiving. Especially considering that Lilia’s form of punishment is lecturing. 

✂ Vice. What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

     ✄ Escape? Haha. Funny. Yeah, noooo. But, if you want something you can just ask. If you’d prefer the more roundabout way, you can simply leave little hints lying around. Lilia quickly pieces it together and he catches on swiftly, he’s amused and will give in to practically anything you ask for, except leaving, of course. But anything else? Consider it done and yours. 

✂ Wit’s end. Would they ever hurt their darling?

     ✄ No. Never. As stated before, he’d rather hurt himself than ever hurt you. If he had to choose between causing you a bit of physical pain or give himself ten times that amount of pain you would’ve felt, he’d choose to brace the pain himself every single time. 

✂ Xoanon. How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

     ✄ Lilia adores you. He reveres you like royalty, and you would know. After all, you know how the ancient fae is with the literal prince of the valley. Because Lilia is so well respected in the valley, he’s able to afford luxuries for you. You practically live in the palace, any silly or stupid demand will be carried out, and every day he will always remind you of the love he holds for you. Winning you over is important to him, but your safety and happiness are first and foremost. Once he’s sure you’re somewhere safe and you’re slowly adjusting to the environment, only then will he focus on winning you over. 

✂ Yearn. How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

     ✄ Does not snap. However, the longest he’ll pine after you before resorting to traditional fae kidnapping, is one year at most. Why? Because as mentioned before, he wishes to spend as much time as possible with you. That’s why! Human lives are so short and fragile, so he has to make the most of it!

✂ Zenith. Would they ever break their darling?

     ✄ Can one be broken with love? Well, maybe, but Lilia won’t break you. He’s much too gentle and careful with you for that. Please, try to understand this fae. He truly loves you like he’s never loved anyone before. It’s an intense and overwhelming sort of love, something he’s never experienced before and he knows is not normal but he can’t resist. You make him happy, and he wants to make you happy. So won’t you learn to accept this old soul and his fantastical odd ways? 

Arlecchino is really THE Yandere platonic, would love for her to be my father-

But how/when do you think is she becoming Yandere ?

As a "father" Arlecchino loves her children, but her love is something that isn't normal. Her love is hard and stern and fiery, but for some of her children, it's the only love they have. So many of them, regardless of the life Arlecchino lives, find themselves attached to her, indebted to her, trapped with her. Many of them, like Lyney and his siblings do genuinely love her, but at least to me, it's more reverence than it is familial love. They love her because she saved them, and now, they have no other choice but to stay with her, but to them it's a sacrifice worth making because they feel as though they owe so much to her.

Anyway, I think she would become obsessed with someone who reminds her of herself in her youth. Someone who is so detached from the rest of the world, someone who is damaged. In a way, I feel like she'd behave like Silco from Arcane, seeing a child who is traumatized and broken, someone she wants to protect from the rest of the world. She takes you in and from the very beginning her relationship with you is different with the rest of her "children." She doesn't send you on missions or even lets you interact with the House of the Hearth at all. She's very protective in a way that is strange to everyone but her.

I don't know this is just first thoughts.

imagine a child male reader whos siblings w scaramouche and was also abandoned so they only had eachother and encountered many people throughout their lives (fatui, traveler, that little kid who passed away, etc..). i can only imagine the heartbreak everytime scara gets hurt bc of the betrayals throughout ur travels and how the reader is tryibg his best to comfort him since hes still young and doesnt fully grasp the situation theyre both in idkk

srry for being specific i just rlly like sibling stuff 😭😭

𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 - 𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘪

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ scaramouche x m!brother!reader , angst and fluff , comfort and reverse comfort .

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ reader and scaramouche slowly age throughout the book, so keep that in mind.

the wanderer and his little brother apart is a sight nome of the seven nations have ever witnessed. wherever one is, the other is trailing behind either with excitement, worry, concern or grumpiness trailing their figures. the wanderer loves his little brother more then anything and everything in this shithole and that has never changed, nor will it ever change.

upon the creation of kunikuzishi, raiden ei (or ‘mother’) had encountered an ‘issue’ that might be solved if he had something instinctual to protect. kunikuzushi was a gentle soul, and while he loved his mother more then life as he knew it, if he was so weak that he could not hold the gnosis then what was all this for?

and so, the creation of the second kunikuzushi was in production.

“(y/n)” she had named you. you loved your name, you loved your mother who gave you your name and most of all, you loved your big brother kunikuzushi. he was your everything, and for awhile raiden ei’s plan had seemed to have succeeded.

kunikuzushi was getting stronger, he was overcoming his sensitivity and his ability to cry at every given scenario. she thought she had finally done it.

until she realised, it was all a massive lie.

she had caught you coddling your teary eyes big brother near the shine, cradling his head against your little chest and combing his hair in hopes his tears would cease. you could sense your mothers presence and you knew if she found out that he was still as vulnerable as the day of your creation, it would have major concequences.

the gods weren’t in your favour, to put it lightly.

wandering the ever so lonely woods of inazuma, you and your brother faced two more instances in which would eventually trigger his switch.

the first? a simple blacksmith that had taken you both in. he was another good soul, cheerful beyond belief and a truly comforting person to be around.

he taught your brother the craft of weaponry. he taught your brother it is okay to be vulnerable at times and for awhile, you truly believed that you had found someone who cared about you enough to love you and your brother for who you truly were.

that dream died alongside his once genuine love for you both, riddled with fear of the both of you.

kunikuzushi’s tears echoed through your ears that night, it was so loud you couldn’t even hear the rain that was ever so loudly crashing against the two of you. his body was small and shrunken, and you didn’t know how you could help. your little mind may be synthetic, but it does not mean that you comprehend things as an adult would.

you only hoped holding your big brother against you and hiding your own tears would comfort him enough to stop crying.

you couldn’t stand his tears, they broke your little heart.

the last was a young boy, only a few years younger then your current mortal state.

raiden ei claimed that to keep kunikuzushi’s guard, she would have your body ever so slightly age, until you would stop abruptly by the time your form would hit 14. this would match up with kunikuzushi as his body would go from the form of an 18-22 year old physique.

this boy was once more, a very loving being. he was full of love and wonder about the world, seeing everything as an opportunity and a blessing.

your little head couldn’t comprehend his views until it was far too late for blessings or miracles.

there, lying lifeless and devoid of emotion, going everything against you knew of the boy he lay.

CLICK

you attempted to grasp your big brothers hand, but you did not see a boy who once more needed comfort, all you could see was pure loathing.

you didn’t see your big brother in that moment. you saw a stranger in the skin of kunikuzushi. his tears were not in need of wiping, in fact no tears were to be wiped at all.

you lost your brother that day, and it would be a long while before you would see him once more.

in a sense, you lost yourself that day as well, you no longer felt that out in your stomach that lingered endlessly. only a cold numbness filled the gaping hole in which a heart should lay wishing your chest.

by the time you had reached the fatui, the both of you were completely different people.

scaramouche was cold and sharped tongued, and as for yourself? you were reserved and shrunken. you had both completed the aging process that ei had implemented for the two of you, and it was as clear as day.

you had gotten ever so slightly taller, your hair a little longer and your frown weighed heavy on your lips.

your big brother was still as short as ever, but his face was no longer chubby and round. he was sharp and cold, a glare that never disappeared unless i’m the presence of one person.

you.

you hated the fatui. you hated how they treated you and your brother. unlike the humans, they didn’t even bother to pretend to care for either of your well-being’s. you were scared of most, not daring to make any form of contact with any of them. there was only one harbinger that ever spoke to you of his own volition.

tartaglia.

an annoying redhead who treated you as if you were his own kin. that alone had scaramouche seething in his seat. who was this filthy mortal and how DARE he treat HIS little brother as his own? this had the balladeer absolutely livid and so for the sake of your dear brother, you did your very best to escape the mortals clutches.

as his time in the fatui progressed, you soon found yourself truly taking on the roll as his little brother. you seemed to be the one who was there for him, never much the other way around.

of course that’s not to say he wasn’t there, it was just normally him who needed you more then you needing him. you were the one with him against your chest, not the other way around, and honestly you never cared too much. he’s you brother, why shouldn’t you be there for him?

you didn’t realise just how sad that fact had made your big brother until it had genuinely switched.

scaramouche, as you now seemed to have to adresse him as, not once even entertained the idea of you becoming a full blown fatui member. you simply sat in his office and kept him company throughout his everyday chores and when he went in missions? you rested in his quarters until he came back.

the fatui knew of your immortality and the fact you were not human, and henceforth never bothered to check in on you, not that you cared much.

the doctor struck fear in you that you couldn’t quite comprehend and columbina was almost too cheery to be trusted. the knave seemed interested in you, however you soon came to understand she ran an orphanage and decided she was only looking for a potential member of the hearth. the rest of them never much interacted with you and you therefore have no good or bad opinion on them, all you knew is that you could only trust yourself and your big brother in this hellhole.

you had lost count on how many days it had been since you escaped the clutches of the fatui, but you couldn’t care less. you were with your big brother and he had you, and that’s all you needed in life.

scaramouche thought different.

he wanted to laugh in the faces of the mortals and god who wronged his brother and himself, to mortify the deities and to have the humans begging at his feet. he wanted absolute power, and he had finally obtained the key item to acquire this dream of his.

had anyone asked you if you feared your brother kunikuzushi, you would have laughed in their face. if someone asked you if you feared your brother scaramouche, even just slightly, you could not give an answer.

you were yet to meet this ‘damned blonde runt’ that your brother so very much despised, however you could only hope in a time like this, she might just be able to save your big brother. he claims she is nothing but a pathetic little worm that he could easily discard by the time he reaches divinity, however you had heard of the deeds she had performed for the other nations of teyvat, and you had a feeling she was going to do the same thing for sumeru.

your feelings were correct.

your big brother was falling, and there wasn’t anything you could do about it. he told you to not interfere by the time lumine came, to stay hidden in order to protect you from exposure. to protect himself from people who would use his little brother to exploit him.

too bad you love him a bit too much to allow him to fall like this. he had just quite literally lost his heart right after gaining it, and the pure horror within his vocal cords as he begged the archon of dendro to spare his heart was heavy on your little ears. you couldn’t take it any longer.

“KUNIKUZUSHI NO” you pleaded, you begged the girls to help your brother, however they just watched as he fell lifelessly. so, as you’ve always done and will continue to do, you ran to him.

he only mumbled a ‘get away from me’ and a ‘what if they see you?’ before he finally fell into unconsciousness, and that was the last straw.

all you felt in your body was a frozen and bitter hatred. you felt disappointed. wasn’t this supposed to be the ever caring saviour of teyvat? the girl who makes friends with the snap of her fingers and fights to protect ALL??

all you saw was a fake, a fraud.

ice shot out from the bottom of your heels, icing the entirety of the floors around the workshop. you were screaming.

the room was slowly icing itself around you as you held your unconscious brother in your arms. the panic was visible in the travellers companions voice, freaking out that they’re trapped in the room and that the ice is closing in, however you could only feel your imaginary heart beating harshly within your chest, pounding on your synthetic rib cage and begging to be released from the clutches of ice growing within it.

the only thing you heard before your body collapsed was a gentle tune, a tune of true harmony.

you awoke to the soft breathing of your brother next to you, seemingly in a blissful rest. instinctively, you raised your body and clutched him tightly, startling him awake. you took in your surroundings before letting him go, him reluctantly sitting up and grasping your shoulder, slouching on you.

in came the little nahida, with a tray of tea and some traditional sumerian snacks on the side.

“you’re finally awake you two! i’ve been waiting for the both of you for ages!” her little singalong voice chimed, puffy cheeks graced with a warm smile. you and kunikuzushi share a glace at eachother, almost in a “what the fuck are we doing here?” kinda look. the young archon took note of your confusion and decided to explain.

“we rescued the both of you from the doctors clutches and have been nursing you back to health! after (y/n) had gained his cryo vision, another vision slowly descended and rested on the chest of the balladeer. the anemo vision seemed to swirl a warm breeze around the both of you as the ice spread as the room started to freeze in on itself. thankfully, i was able to get everyone out uninjured, however we had unfortunately encountered the 2nd fatui harbinger, also known as the doctor. he claimed the fatui had ownership over the both of you and wanted both you and the gnosis, however i bargained that as long as he shut down all his twins, as well as giving us the both of you, he could have both of the gnosis’ i possessed!”

nahida seemed almost too cheery, however you refused to comment on it. all you did was squeeze your bothers free hand as he held you protectively, his guard instinctively high in the presence of a god. smiling softly to yourself for the first time in forever, you rested on the shoulder of your big brother.

you were finally in safe hands.

sumeru’s most notable duo, the young wanderer and (y/n) explore around the lands together, hand in hand. one in his early 20s and the other in his teenage years. though they never seem to age, sumeru does not question it. the elder with a sharp tongue and the younger apologising profusely for his big brothers harsh words. the elder studying in the akedemiya under the request of the lesser lord, and the younger encouraging him to do his best.

the elder keeping his guard up so the younger can finally enjoy his everlasting youth, after giving it up for so many years for the sake of himself. hand in hand, kunikuzushi knew you two would finally be able to rest.

just the two of you, until the end of time. <3

Title: Rotting Divinity.

Pairing: Yandere!Scaramouche x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 2.9k.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long?”

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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