To The Stranger I Knew Too Well
To the stranger I knew too well
Summary: When your recurrent dreams about a puppet become out of hand, a reality check feels like the only way to get back to normalcy. Fate proves you wrong.
Pairing: Wanderer & gn!reader (post Irminsul), the relationship is heavily implied to be platonic
Content warnings: Reader is gender neutral, mentions of blood and murders but I don't go into details, slight angst, Wanderer is bad with feelings, platonic content
Word count: 7.2k | Soulmate AU
Comments: A special thank to my beta @ladyfocalors for always brainrotting with me about Genshin characters. We'll platonify the Genshin soulmate AU one work at the time /lh
It took you years to understand that your frequent lucid dreams about an Inazuman electricity-wielder leader were actually the memories of your soulmate.
To your parents' defense, every normal individual would have dismissed the idea. While your soulmate wearing an extravagant hat wasn’t impossible, your tales about a place shrouded in darkness and an Electro-user without a Vision sounded like a child's fantasy. There was no such thing in Teyvat.
You quickly got the reputation of an imaginative kid. Adults liked to ask you about your dreams.
"What a smart child you are!", they cooed once you finished recalling your visions. "You could write a storybook!"
Your younger self would shoot them the dirtiest glare they could muster. Unfortunately, adding that the protagonist was a puppet made hundreds of years ago was not the convincing argument you thought it was. To the layperson, your visions were nonsensical dreams.
But you knew what you saw. It felt real. Terribly, shockingly real. Most often that not, you woke up from these flashes with the taste of iron in your mouth, static filling your sight, your muscles locked into place. You were trapped in your own unresponsive body. Even your breath was stuck in your throat. But the worst part of your awakenings was the sticky feeling on your hands. No matter how many times you scrubbed, it lingered on your skin. You didn't know what it was at that time, just that it made you feel gross and that it would sometimes reappear if you washed your hands hard enough.
You learnt what blood was before you knew how to spell the color red.
When one is repeatedly told that they're wrong, they will come to believe it. You were no exception. As the years passed by, you pushed those fantasies in the back of your mind. The adults in your life must have been right. You were just a strange kid with gruesome dreams, that was all.
Despite knowing that they were figments of your vivid imagination, the sights of snow-covered plains and bloody massacres haunted you well into adulthood. They had grown more complex. Details you didn’t notice as a child seemed obvious now that you had more experience. You could also recall conversations better. That’s how you learnt the name of the body you inhabited. Well, it was more correct to say you learnt multiple names for them. Kabukimono, Kunikuzushi, Scaramouche, the Balladeer... It was like you could never make up your mind.
The puppet you temporarily inhabited was as elusive as the wind: no fixed name to call them and no face to match. They fled mirrors when they saw one, preventing you from seeing their appearance. The only thing you knew about them was their title: number Sixth of the Fatui Harbinger. A seat that was left vacant for centuries according to every Fatuus you asked.
Your constant daydreaming was annoying but manageable until you started having visions about Kunikuzushi taking over Sumeru. You saw them getting experimented on to become one with a robot, wincing in pain at the hands of a masked doctor, rambling about their birth-given right to access godhood, taunting a blonde traveler; a chain of events that could only make sense in a dream. The problem was that your reverie was affecting your daily life. You couldn’t go through a day without getting assailed by memories that weren’t yours. You had to stop halfway through any task, discussing became hard and sleep rarely came to you.
There was little you could do as you didn’t know what had worsened your visions. You were hoping it would go away by itself.
That was until a particularly haunting dream. As usual, you were but a spectator seeing through the Balladeer’s eyes. You saw a hand -their hand- reach for a chess piece, leaning forward as much as they could. Your blood went cold. They were about to fall over the edge of the platform! Your gaze darted everywhere. There was nothing on the distant ground that would break their fall. For the first time in your life, you realized that they could die. Scaramouche, the one you had observed for decades, could die.
You were the only one to realize how far they were leaning. They only had eyes for the violet pawn in front of them, begging and begging with a shaky voice. It had never sounded so frail, so raw with hurt and panic.
"Please, anything but the Gnosis!"
It’s not worth it! you tried to scream. Stop! You didn't know why this Gnosis was so important to them but it was nothing dying for. Alas, no matter how hard you tried to move your mouth, the body refused to answer to you. You were nothing but a witness of a tragic scene, a powerless ghost with a bleeding heart. Your throat was thick with emotions you were not allowed to express.
Your dream ended in a snap, quite literally. A tearing sound erupted from behind you before you were sent falling down, pain flaring in your back. You bit down a scream as the world turned to blurry shades of blue and fluttering black bangs. The increasing speed made your eyes water and your body burn. You clenched your teeth. The fall was inevitable. Maybe it made you a coward but you couldn't bear to see it. You didn’t want to see Kunikuzushi die. Muttering an apology to the stranger in your dreams, you squeezed your teary eyes shut.
The last thing you heard was a wet crushing sound, a mix between eggshells broken under the palm of your hand and a fruit being squashed. Your body jolted in your bed and you gagged, fighting the urge to throw up. You had never felt this sick. Not even when you dreamt of unfair massacres.
You sank to the floor, furiously wiping away the tears beading in the corner of your eyes. You couldn't do it anymore. You had to confront your dreaming problem. There was only one solution: if your brain was so adamant on obsessing over an imaginary character, you had to show it the harsh reality, to remind yourself that Kabukimono never existed.
Your trip to Sumeru was the most spontaneous project you ever planned. You were strolling through the busy streets of Sumeru city the very next day with barely enough money to get back to your nation. You had packed the bare minimum in your suitcase to carry it easily, meaning you wouldn’t be able to stay for more than just a few days.
That was, if you found a room for the night. You had no time to check what the usual prices were in the capital before leaving. Now that you were scouring the streets with your meager funds, unable to find a hotel within your budget, you were bitterly regretting your lack of foresight. You sighed. You supposed that the saying was right. Slow and steady wins the race.
As if it had felt your determination dwindling, the crushing sound echoed in your mind in response. You bit your lip, bile rising in your throat. You hadn't been able to forget about your last dream. It looped in your head like a broken record. Even if impulsively leaving your country was one of your worst ideas ever, the quicker you settled your daydream problem the sooner you'd be back to your normal life.
Your weary steps lead you to an indoor bazaar. The smell of fried food filled your nostrils, making your stomach growl. You winced. The small homemade sandwich you had earlier couldn't compete with the appeal of street food. Unfortunately you needed to save your funds for a room. You let your gaze wander in the crowded marketplace, trying to distract yourself from the appetizing smell. Colorful stalls were full of fresh fruits, potted flowers and intricate trinkets. If you stood on your toes, you could even see a small theater representation in the farthest part of the bazaar. It was a lively place that perfectly encapsulated Sumeru’s charm.
You were about to turn back when your eyes stopped on a blue silhouette near a candy stand. You didn't know how you missed them earlier. In the brown and green crowd, their traditional clothing and their ornamented Inazuman hat stuck out like a sore thumb. They were in deep discussion with the merchant. Turquoise fabric trailed behind them, floating in the wind.
Without a second thought, you cut through the crowd, never leaving the stranger from your sight. Your heart leaped in your chest when they left the small stall.
"Hey, you with the hat! Stop!" you yelled. To your dismay, the Inazuman did not even slow down. They must have been too far to hear you. Breaking into a sprint, you called again. "Hat guy!"
You breached the distance in a few seconds. Just as you were about to grab their shoulder, they turned around. A cold hand snatched your wrist, making you wince. When you looked at its owner, you were greeted with a deep scowl and narrowed indigo eyes.
"Don't." The man’s low voice warned you, his tone full of unspoken threats. You swallowed uncomfortably as your confidence melted away. He managed to be intimidating in spite petite stature and youthful appearance.
As he glared daggers at you, you were hit by a feeling you couldn’t quite place. You pressed your lips together, studying his messy black mullet and his glowing Anemo Vision. The word popped up in your head. Familiar. The stranger felt familiar.
Wiping the feeling of déjà-vu from your mind, you retreated your hand. "Sorry, I was just trying to get your attention."
"Well, now you have it," he huffed. Annoyance was written on his face. He crossed his arms. "What do you want?"
A good question, but not one you had an answer to. Running after the man was a spur of the moment decision.
Self-awareness striked you like a thunderbolt. Why were you even doing this? Your goal was to cure your daydreaming, not to throw yourself headfirst into the rabbit hole nor to annoy a stranger with the tales of an imaginary character.
He clicked his tongue. "Hurry. I don't have all day."
You huffed. It was true that you were taking too much time to gather your thoughts but he didn’t have to be rude about it.
"I'm looking for someone,” you said tentatively. It was the closest you could get from the truth without annoying him. Considering his foul mood, the stranger would have walked away if you told him you were looking for the lack of existence of Kunikuzushi, the Sixth Harbinger, the person who tried to become an Archon, someone that only existed in your mind.
The man didn't answer, encouraging you to continue with a movement on the head. His black bangs flew in the light breeze. Now that you had a clearer view of his face, the man seemed more bored than irritated. He wanted the conversation to be over with but he still had the patience to hear you out. This realization gave you the courage you needed to talk again.
"Their clothes are quite similar to yours, but they're red and black. They also have a hat. A huge one." You opened your arms in emphasis.
He scrunched his brows together, looking at you like you were an idiot. "Right. Because the length of their hat is the most important detail you could give me," he deadpanned.
You fight the urge to sigh. "I wasn't done. I don't know much about them, but they're linked to the Fatui." The stranger's eyes narrowed in suspicion. He was back to glaring at you, his face closed. Unsettled by this sudden tension, you quickly added. "Probably. I'm still not sure about that." There was no Sixth Fatui Harbinger, after all. Your brain had made it up.
"Of course." His voice was drier than earlier. What little interest he had in your discussion had melted at the mention of the Fatui. You scrunched your brows. You swore you could read another emotion than ire in his eyes, even if you didn’t know what. "Anything else I should know about that... Friend of yours?"
You racked your brain for more details. There was a lot to say about the person in your dream. Their lack of heart, their coup attempt in Sumeru, their bloody killings, the experimentations they underwent... Nothing you could talk about in public without looking crazy, in sum. The only thing you could still mention was...
"Their name is Scaramouche."
The man went rigid. "What did you say?" he gawked, his eyes wide with shock.
"Scaramouche. I think that's their name?" Truthfully, they were given so many names that it probably wasn't their real one. But it was the one that came up most in your dreams.
As if it caught onto the tense atmosphere, the wind abruptly stopped blowing. You barely noticed it, focused on the horror shining in the man's eyes. He couldn't believe what you had just said. His piercing eyes analyzed every inch of you with a newfound distrust.
“Nobody should be able to-” He interrupted himself with a gasp. Recognition flashed across his face. "Wait. You...!"
His face went from surprise to disgust in the blink of an eye. You had barely the time to react before he pulled his hat down over his head, his scowl peeking from behind the rim.
"Of course fate would string something like this..." He let out a bitter laugh. "Has it ever made anything easy for me?"
You watched as crossed his arms, lifting his head to glare at you as if you had purposely wronged him. You tried to appease him by apologizing. "Sorry, did I say something wrong?"
Despite your question, you knew you had done nothing worth this cold attitude. You didn’t know why he was overreacting, why he was looking at you like dirt under his soles. It’s as if he was personally offended by your description of the Balladeer. You blinked as pieces fell into place. An Inazuman with a strange hat and dark hair, just like the one you were looking for. Could it be…?
"Is that you? Are you Scaram—"
The man turned around before you could finish your sentence, the blue fabric tied to his hat smacking you in the face. You yelped in pain.
"Don’t use this name." You couldn't see what kind of expression he was making but his flat tone told you enough.
You were standing in front of the protagonist of your dreams.
Reality shattered around you. There were only two reasons for your dreams to be visions of the past. You either were a seer —which was unlikely considering you had no elemental affinity— or you were using your soulmate link. Realization sank in. You had a soulmate. Everything finally clicked together: why you had Scaramouche's memories, why he recognized you, why you never stopped having those dreams… It was because the universe had deemed you a perfect fit.
Your eyes burned with unshed tears. You were not an anomaly without a soulmate, like you were led to believe. You just didn't pay attention to the signs.
"Wait a minute," you gasped. No matter how happy you were about your discovery, it came a lot of terrible implications. "Does it mean that everything is real? The Fatui, the taking over Sumeru part, everything ?"
Kunikuzushi immediately clammed up. Not even bothering to look at you, he said without a trace of emotion. "This conversation is over."
Strong wind currents flared all around you with him acting as the epicenter of the small storm he invoked. You stared at him with wide eyes. He was getting away!
"Please!"
You grabbed his sleeve and tugged hard, adrenaline pumping through your veins. The man gave you the dirtiest glare from above his shoulder as the miniature hurricane intensified. But you didn't let him go. You sank your nails deeper into his arm.
"Listen to me!” you said through gritted teeth. “I'm not gonna pretend I know everything about you because that's not true. I only know glimpses of you. Parts of your past that don't make any sense."
You closed your eyes as the memories flooded your mind. The Gnosis, the laboratory, the crushing sound as he fell down... You didn't understand what those events meant to him. What kind of story they told. It was like you were in front of an incomplete puzzle where all edge pieces went missing. It was impossible to get the big picture no matter how many combinations you tried.
That didn’t mean the little bits of memories you had taught you nothing about him.
"You were hurt. That much is certain."
Your words only rekindled the fire of his ire. He bared his teeth at you. “Huh?! Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?” He stabbed your chest with his finger, forcing you to take a step back. “Seeing glimpses of my past doesn’t give you the right to assume things about me, you worm.”
"But it’s not an assumption. You lived a very long and lonely life. A bloody one too.” You briefly wondered if contrary to you, he had grown accustomed to seeing his hands covered in crimson. You let out a shaky exhale. “But you cannot talk about your life to anyone. No one would believe you if you talked about the Sixth Harbinger of the Fatui or what you were doing centuries ago."
You had the experience to back yourself up. You still weren't sure what the Fatui thing was all about but if you could barely believe it after seeing his memories firsthand, no one else could.
"See, you’re just assuming things again out of pity," Scaramouche snapped. He tore himself from your grasp, sneering. "Guess what? I don't need you to feel sorry about me."
You shook your head. "I wasn't about to."
You were never going to forget the feeling of blood on your hands, the crackling of electricity as you saw someone charred alive, the coolness of a cadaver against your skin. You couldn't bring yourself to feel sorry for this man. It wasn't what someone like him sought.
Pity was for those forced to live under the ruling of unfairness, not able to object to its cruel laws. Forgiveness was for those that were mothered by this tyrant and dedicated their life to preach its teachings. For now, the Balladeer deserved none of them.
When you opened your eyes, Scaramouche had tipped his hat down, obscuring his expression. His grip on his crossed arms was so tight you thought he was going to break his fingers.
"You don't understand. You can't understand."
His voice was lower than earlier, almost like a growl.
It wasn't enough to scare you.
"You're right," you admitted. "I cannot understand you. But I really want to."
Maybe it was because you knew him on a deeper level than a stranger, but something had changed. You were starting to notice it. The hurt he masked behind a veil of fury. Until his words, you thought he was just an eternally angry man, bitter at the world and at his fate. Now, you wondered if he was just someone who lived through too much. Someone who was ready to beg and kill himself for a glimpse of a better future.
He snorted, disbelief written across his face. “A human like you, understanding someone like me? Don’t make me laugh.” He leaned towards you. You fought the urge to take a step back, withholding his stare with all of the courage you could summon. His mouth contorted into a twisted smile. “You’ve seen what I am capable of. Not only are you fundamentally unable to relate to a fraction of my existence, you’re also unable to withstand it. Understanding me will only bring you trouble.”
“You already do.” Scaramouche didn't utter a word, turning his back to you. You didn't let it get to you, instead squeezing your hand against your chest. "I spent my life stuck with visions I couldn't control. Seeing your memories at random moments robbed me from precious moments with the people I love. From enjoying a normal life, one where I don’t have to fear falling asleep."
Your hands were shaking. Whether from anger or sorrow, you didn’t know. Scaramouche was the one assuming things. You may only be a human, one similar to thousands that have come before you, but you knew how it felt to be misunderstood. How it felt not to belong. Nobody had believed you for decades, nor understood why you were so uncomfortable when it came to sleeping. Even your friends couldn’t wrap their heads about your constant worry of getting lost in the daydreaming. You might as well have been from a different species.
You took a deep exhale. Your anger faded away as quickly as it came. "I feel close to you, no matter how strange it sounds. You've always been a small part of me.” Determination seeped through your tone. “So I won't be able to move on as long as I don't know what's going on with my soulmate."
Soulmate. The word rolled strangely on your tongue. It was the first time you were saying it out loud.
Scaramouche gagged at your word choice. "I'm not looking for a lover." Disgust laced his voice. Seems like you were not the only one who felt weird about the whole situation.
You shook his concern with a wave of the hand. "Me neither. I'm looking for an explanation. A timeline in a chronological order, if possible."
Your attempt at a joke fell flat as silence fell between the two of us. Your face shifted into a frown. Had you been too insistent?
"It's alright if you find the situation strange," you said, trying to save the conversation. "I'm not sure how I feel about the fact that you saw glimpses of my life. This is quite embarrassing...."
You didn't have the most exciting life but there were private moments you wanted nobody to see. Especially not your soulmate.
He shot you an uninterested look, examining the dirt beneath his nails. "I could not care less about your mundane life."
You blinked. You didn't expect him to get interested in your life as much as you were in his, but was that supposed to be comforting? Unsure how to respond, your face contorted into a polite smile.
None of you said a word after that. You didn't dare move either. Weariness taking over you, you watched as the back of his hair fluttered in the breeze, joining the hypnotizing dance of the blue ribbons. The sound of animated conversations and the ringing of distant bells filled the otherwise tense silence.
You were about to leave when Scaramouche let out the heaviest sigh known to mankind. He finally turned to you, uttering a single word.
"Wanderer."
Whatever you were expecting him to say, it wasn't that. "Come again?"
He rolled his eyes but repeated it anyway. "Wanderer. That’s my name. Not Scaramouche or whatever name you heard in my memories."
You felt your entire face lit up. You could recognize an olive branch when you saw one. "I won't call you anything else, I promise!"
He sighed at your sudden excitement, shaking his head. You were starting to recognize when he was truly irritated and when he was acting annoyed by habit. This time, the look in his eyes didn't match his bored pout. It was not soft by any means, but he did not glare daggers at you anymore.
"I still don’t think someone like you can handle the tale of centuries of existence.” He clicked his tongue. “That being said, I suppose it would be entertaining to see you try. Come to the entrance of Sumeru city in two hours."
Your eyes widened. You thought that you wouldn’t get more than his name, and now he gave you the opportunity to explain his life ? You had half the mind to pinch yourself awake.
"Don't be late Wanderer!"
He scoffed, readjusting the position of his ginormous hat. “If I were, you'd scream my name in the streets of Sumeru until you get ahold of me. No thanks."
"I wouldn't do that!"
"Oh, really?" A smug smirk took place on his lips. He cleared his throat before taking a high-pitched voice. " 'Hey, you with the hat, stop right there ! I really want to talk to you! Stop, I say !' "
You gasped in shock. "So you actually heard me! Do you not stop when someone calls you?"
"I do. I just don't typically talk to pipsqueaks."
His grin deepened at seeing your offended expression. He even let out a short laugh. You playfully punched the cheeky bastard on the shoulder, not putting much force in the blow.
Wanderer didn't budge. He instead grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from him. His eyebrows were pinched together in irritation. "Don’t think you can punch me and get out unscathed, kid."
Despite his words, his grasp on you was light, as if he was careful not to hurt you. It was easy to slip from his hold. He was entertaining you, you realized. Considering how harsh he had been when you first had tried to touch him, a light scold was nothing.
Mimicking a fighting stance, you started shifting your weight from left to right.
"You're the one who's gonna bite the dust! I can knock out someone with a single blow!" You punched the air to demonstrate, a smile blooming on your face. "I can take anyone in a fight!"
Wanderer pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated by your playful attitude. "Celestia above, not another Childe..."
You pouted at his words. "Are you calling me a child again? I'll let you know that I'm a fully-fledged adult!" You may not be as old as the immortal puppet but you were no kid by human standards. You were only teasing Wanderer because you needed something light after your heavy talk. He couldn’t base his whole perception of you on a speech stemming from your sleep-deprived self…
He clicked his tongue in his mouth before looking at you directly in the eyes. "You talk big for someone I've seen fall in the stairs several times."
Horror washed over you. Every little embarrassing moment you lived flooded your mind. The fact that Wanderer had seen some of them sent warmth pooling in your cheeks.
"You said you didn't care about my life!" you said, absolutely mortified.
"It doesn't mean watching you was not mildly entertaining. Why would I focus on boring Fatui politics talk when I could be the witness to the mess of your teenage years?” Your expression was decomposing by the second, to his delight. "I especially liked it when—"
You cut him off with a nervous laugh. "Alright, alright, I get it. Aren't you busy?"
His gaze fell into a small pouch at his sides. "I do, actually. Buer must be looking for me."
"Buer? Who's that?" You didn't remember hearing this name in his memories.
"The Dendro Archon," he said like it was the most obvious thing on Teyvat.
"...Right. Of course.”
Maybe you were a bit too optimistic about his ability to open up to you.
Wanderer couldn't believe himself. Three betrayals should have been enough to teach him that closeness only brought pain. Whether because of misunderstandings, lies or the unpredictable and unescapable scythe of Death, the ending was always the same: he was fated to end up hurt. Alone. Cursing himself for loving too much.
He snorted. He knew all of that and yet here he was, wrapping his job up before his meeting with you. How pathetic.
Part of him was not surprised about this new twist of events. Fate liked to throw him in the most ironic situations. He was currently going on errands for Buer, the same Archon he had tried to supplant her months ago and who took him prisoner. Randomly meeting his soulmate in the middle of the streets was not the most unexpected thing to have happened to him. Far from it. At that point, he was surprised it hadn’t happened earlier.
When Wanderer entered the sanctuary of Surasthana, the Archon was sitting on her swing, humming to herself. The melancholic tune didn’t sound familiar but the lyrics in old Sumerian sang the tale of a love long gone. If he rolled his eyes at the song choice, he was polite enough to wait until the end of the song before clearing his throat.
Buer perked up, finally noticing him. She jumped from the swing and greeted him with a small wave.
"Hat guy!" He cocked an eyebrow at the oh so creative sobriquet, making her giggle. "I’m glad to see you. I was starting to think that you had forgotten about me."
"As if my memory would get faulty. I was held up by someone." Holding his hat to pin it into place, he sat on the lush grass. Reunions with Buer always took a while. He might as well make himself comfortable.
Familiar curious green eyes landed on him. "Was it a friend from the Akademiya?"
He rolled his eyes. "I had never seen them before."
He had expected this flow of questions. Buer was very invested in his relationships with other people– well, rather his lack of. She had made him participate in social events like the Interdarshan championship to socialize. She even enrolled him in the Akademiya. Her argument was that it would help him understand humanity better, as well as himself.
The results were arguably mixed. Wanderer admittedly tolerated people a bit better than before. They were predictable creatures but they could be entertaining. Sometimes. On the other hand, he had not grown close to anyone since he started attending classes. Sure, some students followed him around, gushing about the mysterious “hat guy” and throwing a birthday party for him, but he would not call them friends. They were classmates at most. It was for the best: it didn’t matter if Buer claimed he was progressing regarding socialization, talking to him was an experience he wished on no one.
She didn’t seem to agree with him. Excitement and pride shone in her eyes. "Every stranger is a friend in potentiality. That is what makes new meetings so exciting: you might be talking to your new favorite person in Teyvat," she beamed, taking place near him.
"If you say so."
Friendship was a human concept. Something he could neither fully understand or get. Melodramatic speeches and lengthy explanations meant nothing to him. That is why Wanderer didn’t try to counter her argument. There was no point in talking about something he knew nothing about.
What he did know was that Buer was wrong. You were no stranger to him.
His gaze fell to his hands. The first time he had seen your memories, Scaramouche had thought he was defective. He had never been able to dream until then. His creator didn’t see the interest in allowing him to do so. The only reason he knew what dreams were was because Niwa liked to recount his when they worked together in the forge.
One second he was lying down in the laboratory of the Fatui, the other he was in a small bed. Piles of toys were scattered around him, decorating what seemed to be a child’s bedroom. Why on Teyvat was he here? Scaramouche tried to move his arm but it did not move an inch. He cursed under his breath. For some reason, his body refused to listen to him. If it was Il Dottore’s scheme, the man was dead.
Without a warning, his head turned. He was greeted by the reflection of a small child in the mirror of the wardrobe. You.
His mind had been pure madness when he had come back to his senses. He had the time to zap five machines before the Doctor arrived, complaining that his research was being destroyed. The Tsaritsa, the stars, fate itself... He had cursed everything he could think of for giving him a soulmate. There was no other reason behind his sudden ability to “dream”. Fate had decided to intertwine your destinies together. The thought only made him more angry.
He couldn't be mad at the child you were, though. You were barely five. No matter how much of an unfeeling person he was, Scaramouche was not about to hold the situation against someone as young as you. A small part of him, one he had tried to bury for centuries, had even ached to hold your chubby hands in his when he had seen you reach for your reflection.
With the impossibility of breaking a soulmate bond, the Fatui Harbinger had been forced to watch you as you grew. He learnt about your favorite color, the school subject you liked best, the names of your childhood friends, the color of your bedroom, all the details of your ordinary life. He was a spectator to mundane moments, to victories and horrific failures alike.
You had transformed from a kid with shining eyes to a determined adult before his eyes.
If Buer was right and that all friends started as strangers, it meant that you would never be able to grow close to him. You already knew him.
Wanderer plucked a few strands of grass, watching how they fell to the ground. No, hoping for you two to be friends was wishful thinking. You had seen the atrocities he had done as a Fatui Harbinger. Once he filled the gap in your knowledge, you would not want anything to do with him. His erasure from existence didn’t excuse the actions of his past life.
He would not blame you. He deserved your hate. At the end of the day you were another name on the endless list of his victims. Because of your soulmate link, you had lived your entire life plagued by visions you didn't understand, othered because of things out of your control. You were the proof that Wanderer brought suffering just by existing. That he wasn't a fundamentally good person, like the one Buer and Traveler insisted he was. You had every right to loathe him.
That was why he accepted your offer. If he explained everything to you, if he confirmed that every "dream" of yours was true, you would move on. You would forgive Fate for giving you such an unloving person as a soulmate. Maybe you would even want to settle down with someone else... At the end of the day, you'd be free from the chain of destiny. So would he.
The world would let him do a good thing, for a change.
"While it's true that talking it out will appease both of your minds, you shouldn't only see them as a way to atone for the sins of your past life," Buer intervened.
Wanderer gave her an unimpressed look, throwing away the rest of the grass strands. "One day, you will have to answer for all of those breaches of privacy before the General Mahamatra."
"Talking about your thoughts with someone else can help you sort them out and gain new insight. I felt like you could benefit from it."
Her growing smile told him that she didn't feel sorry for reading his mind without his consent. He huffed. She was lucky he had grown accustomed to this habit of hers.
She hummed as she stepped in front of him. "Agreeing to a meeting to ease your guilty conscience is not a bad thing in itself. The problem is that you’re assuming that they can only hate you."
“What other reaction could they have?” The answer appeared in his mind before he finished his sentence. “Pity?” Pronouncing the word made his insides hurl. Wanderer would rather feel your wrath than your pity. The former didn’t feel as disgusting as the other;
Buer shook her head. “That’s not it either. It’s alright if you don’t yet understand Wanderer, you will see in due time.”
He fought the urge to roll his eyes. He preferred it when she used complex metaphors. At least he had the opportunity to understand what was going on in her mind, contrary to when she used vague words of wisdom like a drowsy prophet.
"If I can give you one more piece of advice, you should give this relationship a chance." Seeing his scowl of disgust, she explained herself. "I'm not telling you to pursue a romance with them. Just don't assume that tonight is the only time you meet. Keep your mind and your heart open."
Despite her smile, she had a serious look in her eyes. It was the face of wisdom in all of its assured glory. Wanderer closed his eyes. It was easy for him to forget she was not a young child, like the one he took care of all those centuries ago.
"There is a reason why they're your soulmate," Buer said. "Don't you want to discover why?"
"Someone like them has nothing in common with me."
Your memories told the tale of a simple life. In an ideal world, a normal person like you wouldn't have been paired up with him. How it happened in this one was a mystery. If he was inclined to pity others, Wanderer would feel bad for you. Being his soulmate only brought you experiences that you couldn’t talk about to anyone.
“You cannot talk about your life to anyone. No one would believe you if you talked about the Sixth Harbinger of the Fatui or what you were doing centuries ago.” Their hands shook as they lifted their head to meet his gaze. He stilled. He had expected to read loneliness and fire in their eyes. He only found the glow of loneliness. It was the same he had seen in your reflection all those years ago.
Wanderer hid his face behind his hand. He supposed he was wrong. He could see a few ressemblances between you and him. That didn’t necessarily mean you would become friends.
"Don't expect too much from this meeting. I only plan on retelling my story, not on learning more about them."
Gentle hands covered his, pulling them away from his face before lightly squeezing them.
“You don’t need to. You already know them better than anyone else.” Buer's voice was as soft as her expression.
He opened his mouth but no snarky counter-argument came to his mind. From what little insight Wanderer had gained on friendship over the course of his life, sharing experiences with a potential friend wasn’t enough. You also had to learn about the other person's personality, their taste, the little things they did… Such a process was too much work for a relationship that would eventually decay. But the man already knew you, more intimately than any person ever would.
If to be friends was to learn about someone, he had become yours a long time ago.
Wanderer fought the urge to shield his face behind his hat. It would be as good as admitting to Buer her words had struck a chord. No way he would embarrass himself like that.
“You're not going to give up, are you?" he sighed.
“While I do hope you will form a bond with them, I will not hold it against you if it doesn’t happen.” She took some time to think, trying to come up with a convincing imagery. “Fate is a tricky concept. It steers you in a specific direction but it cannot force you to follow it. No matter what, you can always make your own way.”
He let the words sink in as he laid down on the cool grass. From the Sanctuary, he could hear the entire city’s hustle and bustle. The sound of the streets mixed with the chirping of the birds and the rustle of the wind through the branches.
He felt Buer sitting next to him. Her voice interrupted his quiet reverie, sounding cheekier than usual.
"Don't I deserve something in return for my good advice?"
Her eyes were focused on the small pouch hanging at his side. He had forgotten about it, their conversation had distracted him. Wanderer shook his head in defeat. The Archon didn’t need to use her mind-reading powers to know about the actions of her subjects.
“If you want to be paid for giving lectures, you should think about becoming a teacher at the Akademiya.”
“I would deprive someone from the joy of educating young minds.”
His lips curled into a grin. “Right. Poor them.”
Feeling her gaze on him, he relented. He unclipped the package from his belt and gave it to her, not bothering to sit back up. Buer tried to open it carefully. It was so full that in spite of her efforts, morsels of candied Ajilenakh nuts spilled on the ground.
Wanderer frowned at the sight of the mess. Something churned inside him. If he had known it would be wasted, he wouldn’t have bought so much food.
“Be more careful,” he chastised her. “It’s expensive.”
Buer shot him a perplexed look. He scoffed in response, averting his gaze.
"I didn't buy them. The merchant gave free samples to bystanders and he couldn't take no for an answer."
Another white lie from him. He had noticed that Buer didn't have much candy left and since he had to go to the Bazaar anyway, he had decided to buy some. He watched as she inspected a piece of candy, rolling it between her fingers. He didn't get why she was head over heels for those disgustingly sweet nuts but he had to keep her in good spirits. Otherwise, she might decide to lock him back in his cell. That and seeing her smile so much sent warmth running in his chest.
Her eyes crinkled, amused. "A free sample? How nice," she said, popping one of the delicacies in her mouth. He supposed there was no fooling the Archon of Knowledge. She pointed at him. "Your friend hasn't had the opportunity to try food from Sumeru, have they? You could bring them to Lambad’s and keep some of the Ajilenakh nuts to snack on."
“We have other things to do than distract ourselves with culinary tourism.”
“It’s not a distraction! See it as a bonding experience that will allow you to grow closer.”
He arched a brow, unimpressed. “As if I needed something like this to become their friend.”
He stopped after his own sentence. He blinked, not believing what he had just said.
Wanderer didn't know how he ended up in this situation. Truly. He was never one to let Fate decide for him. He defied it at each opportunity, fighting with all he had. This shouldn't have been any different. He was a traveler, an outcast, an outsider. He had no use for a soulmate– a lover. Especially not a human one, one that would be gone in a blink of his immortal life.
He had no use for a lover, but he supposed that if he had to befriend a single person in the world, it may as well be you.
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More Posts from Koyoim and Others
HIYYYAAAA
JUST SAW THE FLRITY PROMPTS EVENT!
What do you say about Lilia with "Don't bite your lip, I want to do that."
I would say hgghh💕💖❤️
summary: "don't bite your lip, I want to do that" type of post: short fic characters: lilia additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is kinda implied to be yuu but doesn't have to be, not proofread, Lilia is shamelessly flirty thank u a part of this event
There are very few things that still manage to catch Lilia by surprise.
At his age, he's simply running out of new experiences; school, politics, even the wonderful world of the internet have started becoming monotonous and boring, leaving him in a slump.
Perhaps, then, that's why he's taken such an interest in you.
Such an intriguing little creature, he thinks, watching you from the shadows of the Diasomnia lounge.
You'd come by to drop something off for Malleus, the sweet thing that you are, and, once again, Lilia finds himself shamelessly staring.
He knows he shouldn't, but, oh, he truly can't help himself!
He inches closer. Lilia can't help but wonder what sort of noise you'll make when he startles you this time. A gasp? A shout, perhaps? Maybe even a cute little squeak... the thought of that is strangely exciting to him.
Only one way to find out.
He drops out of the shadows, blocking you from the exit just as you turn towards it. "Hello!"
And... Nothing.
You smile. "Ah... hello again, Lilia. Did Malleus tell you I was coming?"
His arms fall to his sides with a pout. Nothing? Nothing at all? You look at him like he has something stuck in his teeth.
"He may have mentioned," Lilia sighs. "You're impossible to tease these days. It's quite disappointing, really."
You smile slightly, much to his bemusement. He hates letting you have the upper hand... "Maybe I've started anticipating your pranks. You'll just need to find some new material,"
New material...? He scoffs. You're not even the least bit concerned about him!
"It used to be so easy to get a rise out of you. Humans change far too fast," he laments.
"Now I'll never get to see that flustered look on your face ever again! Or I'll have to come up with something new to tease you with..."
"Orrrr... you could just not tease me at all?"
He chuckles, shaking his head as if you had just said something ridiculous. "With your precious reactions? Impossible!"
You sigh.
Lilia tuts, tapping his chin as if lost in deep thought. He circles you once, twice, then stops in front of you.
"I can't think of anything," he sighs dramatically. "It'll come to me later... Is that uniform new?"
"Oh, uh..." you mutter, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. You turn around yourself in a circle. How cute.
"Well, it's the same uniform, but I got my measurements taken at Pomefiore, and they they got me a better fitting one."
"I can tell,"
He hums pleasantly, dragging his eyes over your body. "They did a wonderful job accentuating your features,"
You huff and look away, much to his delight, clearly taken by surprise by his change in tone.
"...Thank you,"
"Fufufu. Don't mention it," Lilia says, eyes narrowing. "You don't get complimented very much, do you?"
"Not regularly,"
"I could surmise as much. Why, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're almost flustered by little old me. Is that right?"
Hook, line, and sinker. Your eyes widen as you realize that you've walked right into his trap. "Oh, no, no. I'm not. I'm fine!"
"Really? Don't get shy on me, now. I'm beginning to like this even more than scaring you,"
He takes a step forward, drinking in the sight of you, your body's nervous reactions to his teasing. "How cute,"
"Tease," you say, biting the corner of your lip.
You back yourself against the wall of the lounge, to his absolute delight, and he takes that as an invitation to get closer.
"That I am," Lilia admits without a hint of shame. "But don't bite your lip... I want to do that."
That long sought-after squeak finally escapes you, music to his ears, and he leans closer. For a moment, it seems like he's about to close the distance between you... then, at the last second, he pulls back.
He chuckles. "Oh, what fun! I haven't felt so young in ages. But I do have other business to attend to,"
And so, Lilia leaves you stunned, trembling against the wall as he merrily walks off before you seem to come to your senses.
"Vanrouge, you little shit! Get back here!"
A slight giggle escapes him as he starts off running, with you not far behind. He was right; this is much, much more rewarding than scaring you.
Maybe, if you make another one of those cute noises, he'll even let you catch him.
౨ৎ˚ Bandaged Hearts ‧₊˚
synopsis: Mikan tsumiki reader x Twst
A/N: its literally the synopsis, this aint gonna be too long and i hope you remember who mikan is cuz... omg she is so cute!
c/w: GN reader, POC friendly reader, clumsy reader, possibly ooc characters, romantic relationships, self injury, attention deprived reader, menhera?, bully mentions, rook and the tweels being menaces., not proofread cuz i need sleep
more under the cut...
Riddle doesn't want you near the tea sets and anything that can possibly hurt you or anything else around you. despite your shaky hands, you patching bruises or cuts with ease always makes him surprised no matter how many times you do it. you caring for him makes him feel really warm inside, all the care he couldn't get as a child is getting healed whenever he is with you. does explode when you hug him tightly when you two sleep together...
He doesn't want you near him while he is holding something hot. Trey knows you just want to help but sometimes (most of the time) you spill and squash cakes that were supposed to be for the unbirthday party, he hopes you understand. usually does catch you when you fall but he can't be with you 24/7 so he just tries his best to remind you to watch your step.
Cater thinks you are very adorable! but very accident prone that you tripped once and it broke his phone stand. and that was fun... you apologized and cried profusely for many minutes until your throat dried. He knows you haven't had a easy life and seeking for attention is very understandable but he will try to heal your broken heart as you heal injuries. just dont trip for his attention, cutie~
My boy Deuce is SUPER worried about you. you stir up a lot of fights even if you didn't mean to. tripping as you wail and apologize to the bad tempered student infront of you. which they end up making threats to you and which ends up deuce punching them in the face and you healing his bruised knuckles. you beg him to let you bandage his hands because you feel like it was your fault. blushes when you shakily kiss his knuckles.. blushy mess, the both of you.
YOU FELL?? LMFAOOOO - Ace probably. although he finds it hilarious that you trip on air and suddenly your knee gave out, he is worried that you hurt yourself a lot of times. ace tries to be nice to you even if he thinks you are a little empty in the head. does actually worry but never admits it, whenever he sprains an ankle or his finger is bended in a weird way, he comes rushing to your room or nurse's office were you work and acts like a kicked puppy while you patch him up. he does appreciate you more than you know.
----- ☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩⋆
Ugh what a bother, is what Leona thinks when you stumble into his life. before he started dating you, he thought.. man.. you are really clumsy and probably and idiot. but after he dates you, he finds you like a little mouse, scurrying away whenever anger approaches. he just wants to bite you and hear you squeak. but but but. he does find you cute (never admits it out loud) and useful whenever you try to do his laundry or dressing his wounds after spelldrive.
Ruggie is dumfounded when you mixed up the colored laundry and the white laundry and scolds you for it. which makes you blubber and cling onto him while he apologizes for getting mad over a mistake and pets you while you sniffle. you can't lie though, you getting attention when you mess up is like a reward... he giggles when you worry about him becauz you are the definition of clumsy. pets you on the head in reward of you not injuring yourself on purpose.
Jack feels the need to protect you no matter what. always catches you with little to no effort. kind of knows when you're gonna trip. he always goes "yup, there they go again" and you 'plop' on the floor as always. acts like you are annoying him but in reality he is just a worried little guy, tries to train your leg muscles more so you don't kiss the ground everytime. but when he finds out most of your stunts are on purpose he gets a little sad, his ears go down and hugs you and pulls you into bed so he can cuddle and you two can talk about your problems and pasts.
----- ☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩⋆
Azul is conflicted, cuz in one hand he can understand the feel of not being used to your legs but on the other hand? UR LITERALLY A HUMAN?? kinda finds out quickly your doing it cuz your attention deprived. it was more of a process of elimination. as much as he loves you, he can't keep an eye off of you for even an hour. sympathizes that you were severely bullied, and you two find comfort in each other. promises that bad things won't come your way anymore.
Jade knows immediately, are you surprised? but lets things go your way for his amusement. tripping for his attention? he'll grab you by the waist and help you back on your feet. about to drop a plate of food? he'll clean up your mistakes, catching the falling plates. and pressing a kiss on your cut. oh that blush is so very charming. he'll play along until your music box stops and you stop turning.
This boy right here... Floyd i love you but. he would make your life a nightmare. Like you trip? hes the one who tripped you, probably blames the broken dishes on you becuz hes a bich. but when he finds out that you just want his attention. he finds it a little more boring but he quickly finds out how much more fun it is, unlike jade, he doesn't give you the attention that you want, once you start to blubber away he comes running. Keep being entertaining as usual little shrimpy~ don't let him get bored.
----- ☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩⋆
Kalim actually doesn't mind but at the same time, around you the people are worried. imagine him being happy as always and so are you! but the thing is that, you two are very likely to get snatched up by the wrong people. that one time kalim scraped his knee and while patching him up you look up to see his curious and warm eyes. you looked away flushing. you feel his hand cupping your cheek and turns you back to him, you squeal and try to turn away but damn.. he is quite strong with his grip..
Jamil is pushing you away from the kitchen, he doesn't need a walking disaster. ey kidding. he is wayy to anxious to be letting you hold a knife but at the same time you can wield a needle? wayy more fragile than a knife will ever be. one time jamil had a really high fever and you stayed with him, a mask on your face. hugging him while he was shivering from the cold as your tried your best to help him. cuddling with eachother while you warm him up.
----- ☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩⋆
Vil is very.. conflicted? like yes he is very grateful you are here to help him in his times of need, but you are literally a bruise waiting to happen. you guys have a very symbiote relationship. if you are going on a important event or have a very hush hush relationship from the public he would help with makeup. and when he gets a small or medium sized injury you would help with band aids and stitches. always a "thank you dear" or embraces. if you promise him to not hurt yourself anymore, you'll get more than that.
Rook knows the outbursts you can have if you feel like everything in the world is targeting you. but he loves your imperfections if you can even call it that. discovers the pain you have and how it affects the way you act today. he knows the secrets to make you tweak. like not in a good way, he starts to talk to other girls/guys and make small touches just enough for you to notice them and he acts dumb when you crash out. but don't worry, he'll hold you in his arms while you cry and wipe your tears away.
being someone who is clumsy but also being your significant other, with Epel who has a bad habit of snapping is a very good duo! totally! But he does have his moments of keeping his cool and apologizing on his knees for being angry at your honest mistake. his mother would beat his ass for snapping at you. if he gets into fist fights he comes to you, his natural accent slipping out as you calmly put the bandage on his cheek, the warm ambient light spilling into the nurses office.
----- ☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩⋆
Idia is like "yes! i scored a boyfriend/girlfriend/S/O", but you guys are similar in a way that he didn't expect. no one you can make a first move to romance eachother. hell, how you even got together is a mystery in the first place. but honestly you two have the most like "no, you can have it" battles a lot. you usually stay hugging him whille he plays, and when you're sleeping his hair becomes very pink! but you don't see it cuz ur asleep.
----- ☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩⋆
Malleus finds you very squishy and soft looking(?) your breakdowns don't really bother him, he just finds it a way for you to relieve your emotions. he will hold you when you need him to. He doesn't really need you for physical pain, but if you research on more dragons and their health and such. he'll really appreciate you. catches you with his magic whenever you trip. his heart breaks into pieces when you tell him about your past. you try pushing it off as a joke but he doesn't like that, just trust him..
Lilia finds you super cute, always petting you on the head or hugging you, while you let out shy giggles. always praises you, he has raised kids and knows you lack attention. also another one who never really needs your healing. he is a big tough man he says, is more like a parent more than a s/o sometimes. catches the plates before you crack them, catches you dramatically when you trip "my little attention-seeker~" he coos while sliding his fangs on your neck.
Silver tries to be awake when you trip and fall. sometimes his drowsiness gets slapped awake when you crash and possibly in a suggestive position, but he helps you up quickly. only sleeps soundly when you are in his arms tho. Does love it when you guys have cute little moments in your room or when you bandage his back or massage his cramps. does really feel fuzzy inside when you do it.
Sebek yells a lot, what do you expect? you apologizing while sobbing and his ears has fumes coming outta them. lilia smacks him upright the head and he apologizes on his hands and knees, his forehead touching the floor while he yells his apology. you try to touch him on the head while saying abt some "its okay!" and "no, im sorry" now he comes to you while having a broken arm or leg, fractured bone and happily runs to you so you can give him some special care!
i was gonna do rollo but im too sleepy for ts
did you see the arlecchino animation and teaser??? a;fasjl;f
they make me so sad :(( also, the teaser was hot af tho, had me so downbad. arlecchino's lore is just so 😭
~EL anon
would you like new toys?
i simped so hard during the animation and teaser i decided to write a mini series fic about arlecchino. i have a lot of thoughts about it and now i'm regretting not taking up your offer lmao
forethoughts: my love language is writing someone an entire fic about them (not really, but i will write you an entire letter).
notes: fem!reader in mind, but gn!. NOT AN x READER!! READER IS A CHILD IN THIS!
In every cluster of children, there was always one that had trouble making friends.
That title was unfortunately bestowed upon you.
Always excluded in activities and games, left to play in the corner with the leftover, worn out toys while everyone chose the newest and best toys in the box. It had always been that way; you didn’t see it changing any time.
Father was always more lenient and caring with you. She made sure you were the first in line to get breakfast, lunch and dinner. While everyone had a curfew, you were allowed to wander the halls freely and exit your room. That of course didn’t make it any easier for you to make friends.
Like a robot given the same set of codes and no changes, days blurred into weeks, and weeks blurred into months while you lived your solitary life.
~
You sat crossed leg, facing the corner of the playroom, hands empty. You ran out of luck; all the toys were already gone by the time you got to the box. Letting out a sigh, boredom finally consumed you, prompting you to stand up, brush the dust off your shorts as you exited the playroom. No one batted an eye or even glanced at your direction; to them you were invisible. To everyone you were invisible.
Wandering the halls of the House of Hearth at night gave you a pretty good scope on the architecture of the building. If someone asked you where the infirmary was or the bathroom, you could accurately pinpoint the location for them. You looked at the colorful glass panes on the sides of the halls, raising a hand to block the sunlight from hitting your face. They called you a dreamer, delusional for your ideas and thoughts. Said your hopes were far too high. Father always disagreed. Father always disagreed with whatever the others called you.
A sudden shriek was ripped out of your throat as your body went sideways, shoulder hitting an even stone ground. You winced, forcing yourself to sit as you examined your body. You could barely make out what was your leg and arm with the lighting. Standing up, you decided to explore the uncharted territory in your little mind map. The walls were lined with sharp blades that glimmered under the narrow light source opposite to the swords. You looked behind you, to your sides, in front of you, as you allowed curiosity to take hold of your mind. With two hands, you lifted one of the blades from its holding place, letting it fall onto the ground. You dragged the blade along the stone to the center of the room, ignoring the shriek of protest the sword was making. Letting out a deep breath, you gripped your hands around the hilt of the sword, lifting it as high as you could. When you’d finally lift it over your head, a triumphant cheer exited your mouth, eyes admiring the shine and sharpness of the blade like a bee eyeing a flower.
“Children like you should not be wielding such dangerous objects.” Your muscles went limp, bones turning into uncooked noodles as your head spun to the direction of the voice. Father. Fear wasn’t just done with taking hold of your body. Fear was transmitted into the blade itself. Before you knew it, a sharp pain emitted through your forehead, a rush of warmness surging towards the area. The sword fell on your side, next to your collapsed body.
“Y/N!” Father was instantly by your side. Through that cold and emotionless facade, you could see a flash of worry and fear in her eyes. Fear. Father felt fear. Your head was placed in Father’s arms, knees hooked onto her other arm as you were rushed out of the dark room.
You sat on Father’s table in silence, fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt as you stared at your dirt covered, bruised hands. Father reciprocated the silence, as she stood in front of you, using a cotton ball to dab up the blood. You winced at the serum that was infused with the cotton against your fresh wound, knuckles turning white. Father didn’t let out any remark at your wince, rather you could feel her actions becoming more gentle and tender.
“This might hurt.” Father muttered, picking up something from her tray of material, the object having a thin string tail behind. You could barely stifle a shriek as the needle penetrates your skin, the lithe object dancing from one side to another, piercing hole after hole in your skin. You gripped onto your sleeve for life until your hand was ghost white, as Father stitched up your wound before you could blink. Father let out a sigh, snipping any remaining string as she set the needle on the tray. Her eyes shifted downwards, her lips pursed as you felt her gaze burning into your skull.
“...I’m sorry.” You murmured quietly, the words regurgitating out of your mouth, unable to squeeze anything out under her gaze.
“I thought I told you that recklessness always leads to failure. What were you doing out of the playroom?”
“...” You could feel the corners of your eyes starting to burn up, your mouth quivering. Father noticed. Of course she did.
“Look at me.” Father sighed.
Reluctantly, you lifted your head, meeting Father’s eyes. Instead of scorn and disappointment, you were met with understanding and warmth, her pursed lips turning into a thin smile. Thin. Just like the ice you were on. Father could smile all she wanted, but you knew you were as good as dead.
Father’s hand went for your head, sharp fingers combing through your hair. “What type of toy do you like, Y/N? I am planning to get more for the toybox; it appears we have a shortage of toys. Of course, I would like to get the best and newest toys for all. I was wondering what you would like to see and play with.”
Your heart moved an inch higher from your stomach, still threatening to fall and combust into millions of pieces. “U-Uhm… I d-don’t know…”
“Speak up, my child.”
“I-I don’t know… what toys I like, Father…”
Father let out a chuckle. “Of course. How could you choose your favorite in an empty box?”
You looked down at her words. Of course Father knew.
“Y/N.”
You looked back up at her, meeting her playful eyes, a look you knew she only gave you and you only.
“How about I introduce you to some… new toys not any of the other children have seen? Would you like some new toys?”
“Toys… the others haven’t seen?” You tilt your head at that statement.
“Yes. Toys the others have not seen. Are you interested? I will personally teach you how to… play with these toys.”
You nodded your head, a small hesitant smile on your face. Father never offered the other children new toys. Father never offered how to play with toys. Father never played with the others.
The corners of Father’s thin lips tugged upwards slightly, as her finger hovered over your wound. She helped you off the desk, hand holding yours as she led you out of her office. “It is almost time for lunch. But I would rather you get some rest after what happened. Rest assured I will bring food to your room.”
“Y-Yes, Father.” You mumbled.
Father led you to your room upstairs, setting you on the plush mattress as the blanket was draped over your body. She ran her fingers through your hair again, petting your head before strolling out of the room. “Rest well, my child.”
~
Arlecchino closed the door, letting out a sigh. She made her way back downstairs to join the other children. “Rest assured, my child, no one will ever dare to lay a finger on you anymore. No harm shall ever come your way.”
Jealousy of Mine
♡ I grant a wish for whoever summons me and take one thing as a payment ♡ 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Scaramoiche/Wanderer/Kunikuzushi
𝐬𝐰𝐨'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: highschool au. lazily proofread. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Scara, who's that classmate of yours that's always picking on you one way or another. whether it's calling you names, starting competitions, or taking your last piece of gum before a math final. you, who doesn't back down from a fight when you see it and call him names right back, smirking when you get a higher grade than him, and even going as far as taking his wallet so you can buy a soda can from the vending machine. all he knows is he hates you. he hates that smile of yours. he hates it when you talk to him when no one else will. he hates how you have specific nicknames just for him. he hates all of it. ...so why is he getting all protective over you when he sees some random bullies shoving you in a locker because you couldn't shut your big ass mouth. he finds you in the boy's locker room, in his locker, and opens it, cringing as he does so. "are you a fucking creep this is low even for you..." his words trail off into silence when he sees bruises on your arms and his brows knit into a frown. he grabs your wrist and yanks you out of the locker, demanding to know who did this. he's pissed. not at you. but because someone dared to do to you what he does. only he's allowed to do stuff like this to you. only he's allowed to be mean to you. no one else. "aww, is someone getting soft for me?" you hum with a lazy smirk. you feel his grip on your wrist tighten and you hiss. "Scara can you loosen the grip there? i just got shoved in a damn locker give me a pause." "just shut up for two seconds will you and give me the damn names?" "why should i tell you" "i swear to god if i have to ask again" anddddddd you two already bickering again. Scara, who takes you to the nurse's office to get you an ice pack, and when you finally tell him the names he goes so nonchalant it was a complete contrast to when he was questioning you. "oh. those guys. really?" his arms are crossed and he's leaning against the wall while you put the ice pack against your cheek that was bruised. "they're so weak. surprised you couldn't have done anything, guess you really are a worm" hmm. so he's not freaking out. it seems he's not that concerned anymore. until the next day rolled around and the people who shoved you in the locker were missing from school. "yeah they never got home last night. don't you find that weird?" you asked Scara, who sat right beside you. "nah, that group was rumored to be taking drugs or something late at night. so they must've stayed out for longer this time," he replied, bored. "mm. makes sense." and it slips from your mind. forgetting they never made it home and they were no longer people in your life. sometimes, Scara will rant to an unlucky victim about what an "uggo" you are cause you pissed him off. it was an unlucky victim because the key was to just stay silent. don't agree or disagree during Scara's fit. and they did not stay silent because they just had to have an opinion. "they're so annoying! that uggo really thinks she's all that! her looks match her horrible personality. and she barely has any manners and just wants to start shit with me!" not exactly true. since he was the one who took her erasure so now she took three of his pencils that had an erasure on it. and, she wasn't really planning on giving them back. "and she was wearing these heels that made her taller than me and were too loud-" "yn? ugly?" Scara's heart seemed to stop at those words from the guy next to him. "I think she's quite attractive though?" Scara completely froze at this point, trying to comprehend what this complete nobody was even saying. "she's also nice. she gave me her lunch money the other day and saved me the starvation. i wonder why you would hate-" "what?" Scara was glaring at the person, his eyes glowing with...anger? no..it wasn't that. it was jealousy. Scara crossed his arms with a 'hmph' and looked ahead at the board, looking very upset.
the person was left confused and just went back to talking to his friend nearby, but little did he know Scara was spiraling in his mind. if this kid ended up getting close to you and would eventually break your heart because that's what people do in relationships, wouldn't he be putting you through pain? a nobody like him putting you through pain just like those bullies. why does everyone seem to want to hurt you? only he's allowed to hurt you don't they know this? you're his. to bully. to hurt. to wound. to yell at. and he's kind enough to give you breaks once in a while and look after your health. and he would help put you back together each time. he would take care of you. but they wouldn't. they don't care. and thats how this kid next to him. who said nothing bad at all. became a threat to Scara and your world just like those bullies did. Scara, who later that evening has a knife to the classmates throat in a deserted place with no eye witnesses, and was threatening him. this guy was going to take you away from him and hurt you. he had to prevent that didnt he? there was cuts on the guys arms, legs, a few on his cheek, and maybe a bruise forming on his stomach where scara currently put pressure on with his foot. he looked down at the pleading victim. "so you'll leave them alone? you won't talk to her ever again?" "yes yes! i'm sorry i won't speak of her or go within a 7-foot radius of her! im sorry! a-and i won't tell anyone about this! so you can get exactly what you want!" what a wuss. this was so damn boring. "hmm"
the guy under him seemed relieved, thinking Scara was going to say yes. "actually..." Scara put the knife under the guy's chin, making them force eye contact. "i think i don't wanna do that. everyones bound to break their promises. better safe than sorry, don't you think?" the guys face dropped and was going to yell but... "sorry not sorry," he said, making a swift cut across the guy's neck. Scara looked down at the lifeless body and groaned at the thought of your annoying complaining. you'd probably whine and say "this isnt right!" he goes on to hide the body. it'll surely save him the headache. he was used to it. Scara has only done it a few times. even before the bullies. one time it was actually a teacher, that was actually an interesting threat he dealt with. teenagers were just boring compared to adults it seemed.
he put all the threats where they belonged. buried and dead in different parts of the woods. he even had to separate the bullies' body parts since they were so big. don't you see how much work you are putting him through?? strangely enough, the victim's words echoed in his head. y/n? ugly? I think they are quite attractive though? ...then you came to mind. smiling whenever you did something right. that cute pout you had when he beat you in sports. and those times you'd steal his wallet to get soda but you'd always bring him a snack or drink too. ...ah. "damn it" he murmured. Scara placed his forehead on the handle of the shovel, blushing. as far as he's concerned. you were average. and you gave him more work to do than he'd initially like to put himself through. if anyone saw him, they would feel highly uncomfortable and even call him mad. he had a splotch of blood on his cheek. some dirt on his hands. and a body on the ground in front of him that he was currently covering with the shovel. and he was blushing over a girl.
"where are you going?"
yandere aventurine's words sends chills down your spine as you got up from the seat. the both of you were having dinner for the night that he prepared.
"and why?"
you knew of his behavior towards you. his possessive, obsessive, freak-like nature that terrified you sometimes. but, you loved him in every way possible. he developed this behavior the moment the two of you got into a relationship.
but sometimes, he scared you. yet, you knew how to comfort him. his anxiety of you leaving him.
"i'm just headed towards the bathroom. here, you can have my phone in case you're worried i'll be in there forever."
you smiled, handing the gambler your phone.
"i just needed to go really bad. i have been drinking alot of water." you reassured him, which he in return, relaxed.
"alright."
that's when you gave aventurine a kiss, before working your way towards the bathroom. you did your thing, and left.
you returned to aventurine scrolling through your phone, which you didn't really mind. you had nothing to hide, and everything to show was for him to see.
"you've been texting someone." he said, eyeing at you carefully. "why are you texting dan heng? and why." his voice deepened, nearly into a threatening tone. jealousy hinted in his voice.
"ah!" you perked up, beaming. "i was just asking him questions about the data bank. i got curious about something. you can read the messages." you smiled, returning to your food.
aventurine took a moment to scroll through the messages, seeing that there was no interest of romance between both parties. a sigh of relief, and he returns your phone.
"i see. well, don't text him too much. you know how i feel."
you nodded, before poking one of the pieces of your plate with your fork, hovering it towards your boyfriend's lips. "okay, i won't. i'm sorry, i just wanted to ask some questions about the data bank." aventurine opened his mouth, accepting the food.
you won't admit it to his face, but you've been trying not to text anyone for the sake of their safety. you were well aware of aventurine's possessive nature towards you, and sometimes it scared you. sometimes it turned toxic. but you understood at the end of the day, because you loved him.
... or was it your stockholm syndrome? or was it because he manipulated you? or was it because you got too scared, you knew your way around things?
at the end of the day, nothing could stop aventurine from attaching that already-apparent tracking device on your ankle.
Safety!
{Debuted} Harbingers driving with you!
Modern AU, can be seen as platonic or romantic, gn!reader, Scara can be seen as Wanderer (vice versa)
A/N : God, don't ask why Scara/Wanwan is so detailed in colouring.
Go ahead make headcanon/blurb based on this!
----
Childe
He is a big brother, he is used to strap his younger siblings to the car seat.
And he probably has sensory sensitivity with the beeping noises from the car whenever a safety belt isn't on.
NUMBER ONE IS SAFETY!! SEATBELT ON!!
----
Scaramouche/Wanderer
He prefers riding bike (like an asian man he is) because he doesn't want people to hitch a ride with him.
He doesn't care, he just don't want to be sued if something happen to you (a lil bit of caring in his own way.)
Don't put stickers on his helmet.
----
Dottore
As a doctor, you could be a free future-to-be cadaver for him.
----
Signora
She has her own personal driver to pick both of you up.
Doesn't really care tbh, because she is also rarely wear seatbelt.
----
Arlecchino
A mum and a dad
She would give you "that look" and count down from 5, and if you didn't put on the seatbelt she will-
"There you go, isn't it that hard to fasten the seatbelt?"
BLEED. — in which the Knave attends to her wounded little sibling.
— trigger & content warnings. depictions of injuries & blood, descriptions of violence, implied murder. 1.4k words.
— pairings & notes. hurt/comfort. arlecchino & younger sibling!reader. reader is a member of the fatui. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns). arlecchino is referred to using her real name.
— author's notes. arle <3
"Oh, you— you came."
Their surprise was evident, written all over their features as they stared up at the Harbinger. The eerie, echoing click of her heels cut through the silence that, upon her entry, had befallen the Fatui's medics. The microexpressions on her face—brows furrowed inwards, gaze focused on nothing else but them, and lips pointed vaguely downwards—promised a fate far worse than death for anyone who dared to interrupt her.
Arlecchino was a calm, even-tempered woman...
...That is, she was a calm and even-tempered woman when her beloved little sibling was both safe and well. However, the blood soaking through the bandages wrapped around the lower half of their torso made it clear that they were not well. Safe, yes, but well? That, they most certainly were not.
Her tall stance cast a shadow over their body. Perhaps if they were anyone else, they would currently be fearing for their life... but as they gazed up at her with a meek smile, it occured to them that they were definitely concerned (though undoubtedly in a far more lighthearted way than any other person would be).
"You look so scary like this," they giggled timidly, snapping their gaze away and looking anywhere but at her. Subconsciously, their fingers fidgeted with the blanket draped over their legs. "Don't be mad... I messed up a bit. You know. Things— things happen..."
Arlecchino sighed, cutting them off: "Are you wounded anywhere else, [Name]?"
"No. Just there."
"I see," she muttered thoughtfully, rolling up her sleeves. The inky darkness of her curse pulsed and spread, crawling further up her arms than it usually did—they couldn't help but frown slightly. Nonetheless, they said nothing of it. She would surely brush them off and tell them to worry more about themselves if they did.
Arlecchino turned to the nervous agents in the room; the second they did, everyone immediately tried to appear busy, whipping their bodies away from the direction of the Knave and her baby sibling with such speed that it surely gave a few of them whiplash. "You all are dismissed."
'Get out. Now.'
With polite acknowledgments to her unspoken command, heads bowing to the Fourth, the Fatui's medics were quick to leave, urgency evident in their speedy steps. Anything they had been working on was long forgotten and left behind; certainly, the soldiers were unconcerned with their work. If anything, the only thing they were concerned with was getting away from Arlecchino. It wasn't very difficult to understand why.
No agent wanted to so much as imagine what might happen if they were to somehow invoke her fury, especially now of all times.
Once the final agent had left, and the heavy double doors shut—shockingly without any echo; perhaps the medics were afraid that even closing the door forcibly enough would agitate the Harbinger—their eyes shifted upwards.
"Peruere..." they murmured softly, straightening their spine somewhat and removing the blanket from their legs so that they could gingerly swing them over the side of the bed. They wished not to agitate their wound further—it still throbbed and ached, so they knew that one incorrect move would render them doubled over in pain. Their elder sister took notice of their enhanced caution.
"Did they give you any medication yet?" Arlecchino—Peruere, rather, inquired. She turned away from them briefly, speedily shuffling through the medical supplies on a nearby table. Scissors, gauze, antibacterial ointment...
"They tried, but nothing worked... well enough, that is. My fever has gone down since I arrived and it hurts slightly less, but it just hurts far too much for any of their weaker painkillers to be effective. This base isn't well-equipped to handle wounds like this."
Even breathing was a chore, really; each time their chest rose and fell, painful sparks clawed through their skin, originating at the gash in their side.
"Hm." Her face twisted and soured somewhat. "...I suppose I have no choice but to speak to the Doctor once we return to the Motherland, then."
Peruere then began thoroughly scrubbing her hands with special attention to the underside of her nails in one of the medical sinks, as to ensure that she did not cause any kind of infection to fester in their wound.
Their breath hitched, and they immediately went on to frantically ask, "Aren't you busy? You don't have to come with me. I can return by myself, it really isn't a big deal... even if that means talking to him—"
"No." Her eyes shifted to their direction (and for a moment, she couldn't help but think that they looked a little bit like a kicked puppy—dejected and pouty, as if they had somehow upset her). The Knave's tone softened slightly. "No. I do not trust the Doctor around you, nor do I trust these agents to ensure your safety. You are injured. I am the only one who can ensure no harm will befall you."
"I can defend myself," they asserted. "I'm your sibling, you know."
"I have no doubt that you can," she softly assured, drying her hands with a clean towel. "However, at the moment, you are in no condition to fight."
With that, she collected the necessary items and walked back towards their bed. Setting all but the scissors aside, she kneeled down, and began cutting away at the gauze.
"Did they clean your wound?"
"Yes."
She hummed in ackowledgement.
Peruere's gaze softened somewhat at the sight of their wound—still wet with blood, the perimeter of the wound lined in matte crimson. She observed the way their stomach heaved with each breath.
Scorching flames burned in her veins. Had she not known any better, she would resolve to deliver a fate far worse than death to whoever did this, to personally escort them straight to the lowest circle of hell and splatter their guts across the floor.
(She awaited and anticipated the day that the Doctor somehow, in some way, brought harm to her sibling. Should that day ever arrive, she would finally have a reason, an excuse, to reunite him and the previous Knave.
Peruere was patient. She could wait.)
...She did know better, however, and her sibling was just about as much of a force as she was.
Whoever did this was certainly already well-acquainted with the devil.
After squeezing some of the antibacterial ointment onto her fingertips, she gingerly spread it across the area of their wound.
They grimaced somewhat, body instinctively snapping away from her hands. Peruere's freehand shot out to grab their hip with enough pressure to keep them in place but not enough to hurt them any further.
"Shh. Be still."
"But it stings," they whined, shooting her an accusatory glance; there was a glimmer of mischief in their glazed eyes, however, and she immediately understood that whatever they were going to accuse her of was unserious in its nature. "You're making it hurt on purpose."
At that, the Harbinger rolled her eyes. It was clear that there was no true agitation behind the gesture.
"No, it doesn't, and no, I assure you that I am not," she replied calmly, continuing to spread the ointment to ensure that every part of the injury was adequately lathered. "I put nothing on it that would make it hurt. Don't be dramatic."
"Ahh... you're so mean, Per..." they sighed dramatically. "So terribly mean to your beloved, wounded baby sibling~"
She chose not to feed into their mischief. Instead, she began winding the gauze around their body. Once she felt that it was properly wrapped—covered with enough layers to keep dirt and debris out of their flesh and blood—she pulled. "Is this too tight?"
A soft hum rose from their throat as they inhaled as to ensure that it really wasn't too tight, even when they breathed deeply. "No. The pressure helps with the pain, actually."
The Harbinger nodded, securing the end of the gauze. She then rose—though not fully, and rather bent at the waist somewhat to meet them at eye-level. The hand that was void of any residue from the cream softly carressed their face.
Her pupils bore into theirs, thumb rubbing back and forth across their cheekbone. She was mindful as to avoid scratching them with her nail. Though she often told others not to gaze into her eyes for too long—'What you see may not be very pleasant,' she would say—they seemed to be an exception.
In her eyes, as most do, they saw destruction, death, and madness. In them, it did not induce fear. It made them feel safe.
And perhaps that made them no less mad then their elder sister was.
That fate, however, was one that they were content with.
The Knave withdrew, though not before placing a tender kiss on the crown of their head.
"Rest now. We will depart for Snezhnaya when you awaken again."
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scaramouche + "i love you so much, i could look at you for hours and not get bored."
note: yandere
"Is that the excuse you've created to explain your incessant staring?"
He looks down on you, because of course he does--you're sitting at his feet, practically reverent, gazing up at him with a look that twists between expected adoration and something... softer, sweeter, and far less easy for him to grasp.
It's maddening, as you are maddening.
"It's the truth," you say, and this time--bold minx that you are, though you pretend to be everything but--you dare to rest your chin against his thigh. Like a puppy, or an acolyte, placing your head in your better's lap.
Is that not one way to view your situation?
He refuses to give in to what is clearly a ploy for more of his attention. An invitation for his hands to grip your chin and lift it, catching your gaze. A clear desire for him to rub his thumb on your lips and consider pulling you up to press his own against them.
He refuses, for now, because that would be putting the game in your court. And if he does, there's always the chance (however slim, he thinks, seeing the way you stare at him) that you'll let him go in the end.
And that? That is the one thing he cannot abide, and so, here, now, like this--he'll be the one who stays in control.
When he does nothing more than return to the task at hand, reading important missives scattered out on his desk, you pout, huffing out a little sigh with puffed cheeks. Your eyes slide to the floor, dejected and pathetic.
"I didn't tell you to look away," he says, nonchalant, at least in his own mind.
He feels the slightest bit of warmth in his cheeks when he senses that you've turned your gaze back up at him. If he glances down, will he see a glimpse of that something sweet, that something soft? That something that he can't seem to hold in his fingers, something without real solid weight despite the heaviness it creates in his chest?
Maddening. You really are maddening.
Quality Time - head canons drabbles
Yandere! Forced Marriage x Fem! Reader
Ft: Scaramouche and Childe
How your yanderes spend time with you
Scaramouche
“Wrong again,” he muttered beneath his breath, and you felt yourself tense at his anger.
“I apologize, my lord,” you responded quickly. It was like second nature for you. He never truly accepted your apologies, but it made your punishments less harsh.
He insisted that once a week he'd spend time with you. Although, the time was never doing what you liked. He wanted you to learn more skills that would make you seem sophisticated, things he said were skills he learned himself. Tea ceremonies, kimono dressing, and his personal favorite, calligraphy.
Scaramouche would sit you in his lap, with a low table in front of you. You thought it was some sort of perverted ploy to touch you more, but he genuinely seemed more interested in the writing. Or interested in you learning to do it.
“Don't apologize, just do better,” he lifted your wrist that had the brush in it and pulled the sleeve of your kimono back, there was a little black ink on the expensive fabric. His fingers were cold, his grip not tight, but threatening, “I've told you, you must use your other hand to hold the sleeve, or it'll drag through the ink.” his eyebrows were furrowed together in frustration as he looked over the garment you'd practically ruined.
“Be glad I love you so much, or I'd keep you in solitary confinement for your repeated mistakes,”
“Thank you, my lord.”
He motioned for you to do it again and you mimicked his motions with your own hand and drew out a character on the parchment. It was borderline ineligible, but it was better than anything you'd done before. He hummed in agreement at your work, wrapping one his arms tighter around your waist.
His other hand reached up to gently pat your head. He called it praise, but you considered it condescending. Despite the fact that you hated it, he did it regardless, your opinions didn't seem to matter to him.
“You did good,” the brush was taken from your hand and he repeated the action, only this time it was more graceful and elegant, “it should look more like this though.”
He kept his hold on you as you continued to write characters for him deep into the night.
Childe
“My my, do those clothes truly suit you,” he could barely keep his hands off of you as the two of you trudged through the snow together.
You rarely went outside when staying in Snezhnaya, you rarely wanted to. But when you did, you were bundled up in thick, heavy garments to combat the cold. More than six layers at that. You wondered what part of you he thought looked good? There wasn't much of you to see anymore, the clothes had eaten you whole.
Childe insisted on taking you hunting with him. You politely declined, but once again, he insisted, and that was just him being polite. What he was really saying was, “Put your boots on, you're coming out with me.”
You were handed your gun, nearly dropping it from the surprise that he was just handing it to you. Amongst all the talking about how to spy tracks and what to do when you had an animal in your sights, the fact that he'd given you a gun never came up. You'd never held one before and also, Childe was your captor. Was he crazy? Stupid? Bulletproof? All of those things sounded plausible.
He walked in front of you as you fell behind. He was more used to this type of thing, snow up to your knees, but you were struggling. Where you were from, it didn't even get cold.
The gun felt heavy in your hands. You wanted to hold it away from your body, but you also wanted to keep it close to you. Childe was just there, walking and talking without a care in the world. And you were behind him. His guard was down, his guard always seemed to be down around you. You could just do it, couldn't you.
You raised the rifle up and held your breath. One thing he actually said and you listened to, was that you needed to be stable when you were shooting. You needed to be firm. Your heart was pumping in your chest, but you didn't let your hands shake. You didn't want to mess this up.
“There are pellets in your gun,” he'd stopped in his tracks, not even trying to look at you while he spoke, “and those definitely do not work on me.”
Coming Home [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]
Title: Coming Home [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]
Synopsis: You never forgot Kunikuzushi. Nor did you tell anyone about him. He was a secret, and he entrusted you to keep him to yourself.
Prompt: Scaramouche + “And what you own always comes home to you.”
Word Count: 4134
Notes: yandere, non-graphic mentions of sex, abuse mentions
He came into your life like debris blown harshly in an angry storm. Grey skies followed by unsettling stillness, everything out of place. He was something torn up at the roots, forced to go wherever the breeze took him, through winding paths, brushing against trees and debris and landing somewhere worse for wear but eager to reach upwards.
He simply showed up at your doorstep, an eyesore against the ordinary backdrop that was your life, and that was that.
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