Aww What If Scara’s Darling Copied His Red Eye Makeup, Whether To Catch Him Off Guard Or Because Of

ARCHON QUEST SPOILERS!

Your older brother isn’t a good person. Fatui Harbingers don’t tend to be. As the Sixth—well, what do you expect?

You may be a century or so younger than him, your mother’s second failure, the true eternity she’d been searching for trapped in a child’s body, but that doesn’t mean you lack a brain, or a nose, or a set of ears. When they scream, you hear them. When he snaps, you hear him. When he calls you into his office so you can tell him about your day, you pick up on the tang of blood. It hits your nose every time. So does the residue electricity, dancing across your skin and making your hair stand on end. You know, every time.

(Whether he’s aware of this, you’re not sure. Maybe he is. Maybe he isn’t. You don’t ask, only clutch the stuffed animal tighter in your arms and ignore how your older brother smells like the dead every time you meet him.)

But look, now: Kunikuzushi may not be a good person, but he’s the best brother.

He presses your face into his side when you’ve run into trouble and he’s had to cause a scene. A hat that wobbles atop your head, a veil that’s pulled across your eyes. Two hands that cover your own, these gestures warm with familiarity. Kunikuzushi snaps, “Are you stupid, getting yourself into trouble like that? Can you not keep your mouth shut for the one moment I’m gone? You’re the one who wanted to come with me, so behave yourself.” You don’t take the sharpness of his tongue to heart, nor the scowl as he berates you. It had hurt at first, but not for long. Now, these make you smile.

He takes you from the shrine maiden with sly eyes and two pink, swishing tails, when he hears of your birth—your creation. Back then he’d been like you: too sweet, too kind, too sensitive to the uncertainties of life’s transcience. He too had been fragile in nature and wide-eyed at the wonders of humanity, quick to cry in the face of betrayal.

Well, betrayals. Three.

You hadn’t been there for the first two, when he had lost his mother and his friend in the span of a century. But the last one, you’d witnessed. Kunikuzushi’s third; your second. The boy’s death had been the last string.

(Yes, you think. He falls before you. This is one of the few things we have left in common.

Of course, out of all things, it is this: The three betrayals it takes for Eternity’s puppets to snap.)

You didn’t mean to see it. Him. Your brother. The Balladeer.

Kunikuzushi, reaching for your mother’s gnosis.

It’s been centuries since you’ve seen him so vulnerable. If not for the Fatui, maybe you would’ve seen him like so more, but the Snezhnayan organization had hardened him. Turned him bitter, cunning. Not towards you, of course (never you, his precious little sibling) but you saw when he spoke down to others. So condescending, holding his position over their heads. So demanding.

You get the feeling that if they saw him now, they would laugh.

He’s hanging from the tubes of the robot The Doctor built for him and he looks so desperate. (He looks like the puppet he always tells you he’s not, but this time, the strings are Dottore’s, not your mother’s.)

It’s useless to strain for it now—even you know that. Even if it’s not yet in her hands, Sumeru’s god has already won. You can tell that much by how hoarse his voice has become.

Your older brother has been reduced to cries once more.

“That’s mine!” Kunikuzushi roars. You startle, stumble back. He hasn’t noticed you yet. “Don’t even try—!”

“A kid?” you hear from your right, and you see—yes. The Traveller. “What’s a kid doing here?”

You look over, open your mouth to answer, but then you hear him quiet. Your brother has gone silent. Your eyes shoot up.

His strings have snapped.

“Kun—” You catch yourself as you stumble forward. “Scaramouche! Brother!”

He is falling.

Just this once, you plead, help him. Help him. She made him, but she made you too. She made you, you’re her eternity, so surely—

Something gloved latches ’round your arm and you’re pulled back. Stop, you think to cry, but don’t. Why are you stopping me? Don’t do that!

You don’t turn though, only fight against its hold, claw at the fabric and the hand it’s slipped over—Please!

In your frustration, you give one last lunge forward.

And finally, he sees you. (But look, on his face—has it twisted in regret?)

You cry, “Broth—!”

And—too late. The crash is unbearably loud.

The fall has already ended.

Hi! Could I request hcs abt platonic modern AU Childe reacting to roommate/best friend (gn) reader feeling down and how would he try to cheer them up? Thank you!

cheer up, buttercup

summary: after an awful day, you find yourself in a gloomy mood for no reason. luckily for you, your roommate is here to help cheer you up! well, at least they try to! (it’s the thought that counts)

masterlist

pairing: platonic!childe, scaramouche, and la signora  x reader

reader info: gender neutral pronouns (they/them), reader is their roommate and friend, platonic nicknames (buttercup, idiot)

word count: 966 words

genre: modern au, platonic, comfort

format: headcanons

warnings: toxic positivity (if you really squint) from childe, mentions of scara almost “taking care of” whoever made you sad, swearing, scara grabbing reader’s wrist, signora not understanding why you’re sad, reader is just having an “off” day, reader is sad/cries  

a/n: ahhh! my first request! thank you to the lovely soul who sent this in, sorry it’s so late (your patience is appreciated)💖 i got really inspired and felt like adding two other fatui members, so i hope that’s okay! i really hope this is what you wanted, and i apologise if it isn’t 💖

childe has come home late. again.

he cracked the door open slowly, hoping that if you were asleep he wouldn’t wake you up

as he tip toes into the doorway, he hears some muffled sobbing 

childe looks in the direction it came from, and sees you sitting on the couch crying

on the inside, childe is ready to start a fight with whoever or whatever made you sad

but, childe keeps up the act of being a good and caring friend for your sake (and whoever made you sad, theoretically)

he stops sneaking around and sits down on the couch with you, concern  present on his face

he tries to get you to open up, and at some point stops you from wiping away all the tears that fall down your cheeks

childe keeps asking if you’re okay, if something happened when he was away, and if you wanted some water

you only answer one of his questions, and childe quickly goes to the kitchen for a glass

when he does return, you’ve calmed down a bit and taken some deep breaths

once again childe asks if you’re okay and if something happened while he was away

when you do eventually open up, childe just listens and nods. a few times he refrains from commenting and interrupting you, understanding that it’s your turn to speak

after you’re all done talking, childe smiles at you

he suggest going out some lunch and shopping tomorrow, assuring you that’ll he would pay

when you agree, childe breaks out into an ecstatic grin

“Alright! Now, let’s get you ready for bed. I have some big plans for us tomorrow, buttercup. We’re going to have so much fun that you’ll forget all about your worries. I promise.”

[scaramouche and la signora under the cut]

scaramouche was really late coming home, but he didn’t really care at all

you both have horrible sleeping habits, and he just knew you’d still be awake

which was enough for scara to go into a long-winded rant about how shitty his day was

you swore that he could wake up the neighbours with how loud he got

by the time scara finished putting away his coat and boots as he ranted, he finally looked over to you for a reaction

what he saw was something... unexpected

you were... crying? why? what happened? did someone hurt you?

hundreds of thoughts were going through his head, freezing him in place

but he finally snapped out of it when you began to apologise and started to wipe away your tears

scara grabbed your wrist, trying to stop you from covering up your emotions

for once, scara has this human look in his eye 

he sits down next to you and asks- no, demands you tell him who or what hurt you

if you just explain to him that you’re just feeling sad, he’ll calm down 

scara was prepared to send out a few goons after someone, but he stuffs his phone away before you can see that

he’ll hold off from insulting you, as its his natural instinct, and begrudgingly ask if you could talk about it

when scara shuts up, he is a surprisingly good listener. he nods along and does his best not to interrupt

once you finish talking, scara has this fierce look in his eye 

he wishes that you could have talked about this sooner with him, but scara does understand that it’s difficult to do that

he’s not the best at comforting others, and usually just applies what works for him onto others

and luckily for scara, a trip to McDoanld’s at three am in the morning works just as well on you as it does him

“Come on, let’s go, in the car. No, this isn’t a kidnapping, idiot. This is called “me taking care of my friend.” Now if you want McDoanld’s, hop in the car already.”

signora was actually just having some coffee, taking in the silence after a long day of work

then you come sulking past the kitchen doorway, straight to your room

she’s a bit surprised, she didn’t even realise you had come home yet

and something wasn’t right. usually you would at least say hi to her and grab a cup of coffee, but you straight out ignored her

signora is a bit offended, i mean, she was actually going to make you a cup of coffee just now to welcome you home and you just ignored her? how dare you

she stomps over to your room, ready to give you a piece of her mind when she hears sniffling through your door

signora halts, and before she can stop herself she whispers your name

it’s not that signora hates comforting people... but she hates comforting people

but you’re her friend and roommate, she has no choice but to make an exception 

signora leans against the door as she asks you to open up emotionally, taking a large sip of her coffee

while you talk, all she does is nod, hum, and sip. 

she does secretly think to herself that it’s ridiculous that you’re sad without reason. signora tries to help you find a reason, but you just openly admit that you’re just feeling really sad... for no reason

signora doesn’t get it at all, but she tries for you

when you’ve finished, she’s trying to think of something (anything really) that could easily solve your problem and brighten your mood

but nothing comes to her mind that would help you

“Look, I don’t really know how to comfort people. This is kind of hard for me, but I’m more than willing to try and help you. Just...  just tell me what you need and its yours, okay? Great. Now will you please come out and say hi to me, I missed you today!”

thank you for reading 💖 all forms of interaction to my posts are appreciated 💖

play wrestling — scaramouche.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s rude.” 

“The truth often is.” 

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

You swallow thickly. 

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

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

He stares at you blankly. 

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

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

The quartet

Platonic!Arlecchino x Traveller!Reader x Platonic!Lyney, Lynette, Freminet

When Arlecchino left the office, she was greeted by almost absolute silence, only the snoring and quiet snuffling of tired children interrupted her. To be honest, the harbinger liked this sight, since most of the children did not plan to fall asleep after lunch and from this they lay not only in unnatural poses, but also in the most unexpected places.

Foltz, for example, was lying in the dining room with his face buried in the table. Even the older children couldn't resist going to bed in the afternoon. So, her gaze slipped to your quartet lying by the fireplace. With a quick glance, it was difficult to understand where whose legs and arms were, so her eyes stopped a little longer, although she knows perfectly well that an excessively long look can disturb the light sleep of some children.

You lies in the middle, a Freminet lies neatly on the right, he slightly nuzzled your shoulder, while holding his faithful friend Per. Lynette lies a little apart on the left, her tail gently wrapped around your leg, when she herself almost does not touch you. And to top it all off, Lyney... It was as if he wanted to hug everyone at once. He was sleeping in the tiny space between you and Lynette, one of his hands reaching straight for Freminet through your face, the other holding Lynette's hand.

Exhaling softly, Arlecchino goes to the fireplace and calmly extinguishes it. Her gaze goes back to your pile. She notices how you open your sleepy eyes and squint at her for a couple of seconds, after which you turn over on your other side, throwing your leg over the Freminet.

What a tangible difference there is between your first day at the House of the Hearth and this one. In the first days, you were especially careful with her and the other children, but now you have become much more trusting. And trust is an important and indispensable component of any family.

However, she should definitely return to her duties as soon as possible, and not linger here idly. However one from your pile noticed her.

"Father?..."

"I'm going out on business, Lyney. There are no missions for your quartet today. However, it would be nice if you could improve the calligraphy of Y/n, because the last report was given to me was hard to understand."

"Yes, Father."

Lyney answered sleepily, looking at Arlecchino leaving. When the door quietly closed, Lynette's voice was heard.

"Did Father just call us a quartet again?"

ꜱᴜɴᴅᴀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀɪɴᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴛᴇᴇɴ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

pairings - sunday & teen! reader / aventurine & teen! reader

content - reader is gender-neutral/not a lot of angst/mainly fluff/sibling or family dynamics/ kind of a found family fic (?)

warnings - none

⋘ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ... ⋙

↻ I imagine Sunday meeting you as a bellhop working alongside Misha, another bellhop, who welcomes distant travelers to Penacony  

↺ If you’re a bit clumsy like Misha and accidentally spill some luggage after tripping over a hill in the rug, he’d stumble across your defeated form scattering to pick up the fallen belongings 

↺ He’d offer his assistance in organizing the fallen trolley, assessing if you had gotten hurt when you had tripped

↻ Because Sunday’s many responsibilities are to ensure people are following the rules and regulations during their stay in Penacony, he’d come across you on multiple occasions in the hotel lobby

↺ It seems like you were a fairly new worker, asking your coworkers about certain things and needing some guidance with doing things

↺ However, for the most part, you were an inquisitive and hard worker, Sunday noted

↻ One day, he would find you wandering Golden Hour, looking around at the shops curiously while holding a couple of bags

↺ He had conversed with you a couple of times, having small chats during breaks before the two of you had to return to your duties

↺ Sunday had decided to say hi, asking if you were enjoying some of the few renovations done to the dreamscape

↻ At first, you were startled at his sudden appearance, confused about why he approached you

↺ You would then answer his question, stating that you were enjoying some of the shops that had just opened up since it was your day off

↺ Sunday would give you a recommendation, a place that had recently been buzzing with customers as their food selection was one of the best Golden Hour had to offer

↺ Excitedly, you’d thank him for the tip and bid farewell to him, watching him fade in the distance

↻ When you and Sunday had gotten closer together, he’d kinda adopt you as a younger sibling

↻ On the days the both of you weren’t busy, he’d take you to see some of the events that are happening in Penacony (or different locations that he thinks you would like)

↺ Spending his time with you reminded him of the time he used to spend with Robin when the two of them were younger

↺ Watching you bubble with excitement when you saw something you liked, asking him if it was a good idea to get it reminded him of old times 

↻ One time, you jokingly call him old which made him reevaluate his life a bit (did he really seem that old??)

↺ You grew a bit worried when he didn’t respond, watching him hold his chin in deep thought (he snapped out of it after you shook him a bit)

↻ Sunday would take on the role of an older brother to you, fretting whenever you got injured while working and spoiling you rotten with trinkets he had found

↻ He would feel bad whenever he has to turn you down when he’s busy, promising to find a time when he is free from work to accompany you on what you’ve planned 

↺ If it was a limited-time event, he’d feel especially bad, planning to treat you to something to make up for the lost time (you tell him not to worry but he insists)

↻ Something that became routine for the both of you would be tea time (or going out to a restaurant)

↺ During these sessions, you and Sunday would talk about your week/day, basically spending the time talking and sometimes even gossiping about some of the rumors heard around Penacony

↺ You were careful about rumors that concerned The Family, not wanting to upset Sunday, so you mainly focused on small gossip circling around work

↻ Something that interested you about Sunday was his wings, and when the two of you hung out more, you asked him about them

↺ He explained to you about Halovians and the experiences he had with them (how he had to clean them, take care of them, etc…)

↺ If the two of you are closer enough, he’d allow you to touch them, chuckling as you gaped at them in amazement and wonder

↻ Sometimes when one of you is overworked and exhausted, the other would give a light scolding and have them rest on a nearby lounge chair, giving them a moment of rest 

↺ Sunday would offer you to rest on him, providing you his coat as a blanket and humming you to sleep 

↺ You would lead Sunday to his room, making sure he was resting comfortably after you brewed some tea for him (you’d softly close the door and resume your duties after making sure he was actually sleeping)

------

“I will be fine, _____. You do not need to worry about my well-being.” Sunday was seated on his couch in his lounge clothes, arms crossed as he watched you pour water into a kettle. 

Huffing, you turned on the heat and let the water boil, scavenging his cupboards for his tea packets. He couldn’t help but sigh when you ignored his protests, opting to lean against the couch and listen as you worked.

“You haven’t been getting much sleep for the past few days. I know that it’s been busy with the Charmony Festival in full swing, but you need to take care of yourself too, Sunday.” Setting down the finished cup of tea in front of him, you took a seat on a different chair next to him. 

Sunday blew on his tea, the smoke wafting away as he took a sip of the chamomile tea you brewed for him. 

There was a small silence between the both of you. You were fiddling with some of the accessories of your uniform, eyes cast towards the wooden coffee table. On the other hand, Sunday held his cup of tea with both of his hands, feeling the heat of the cup fade to a nice warmth. 

When Sunday had finished his tea, he set it down on the coffee table and relaxed into the soft material of the couch.

“I understand that you are concerned, _____. I promise to take better care of myself but know I will be fine.” Sunday assured you and your worries, opening his eyes to glance at you. You didn’t meet his eyes until you heard him get up from his spot on the couch, feeling a lightweight being put on your head. 

His hand lightly ruffles your hair, moving back to his side. “To ease your worries, I will be going to bed now.” 

You blinked at him before shaking your head. “Thanks, now get to bed old man.” “

I’m not that old, _____...” “Old man.” “Sigh…”

------

↻ Aventurine would meet you when you’ve just joined the IPC, becoming your superior and having you run errands or finish up paperwork 

↻ You, being the dedicated worker you are, would spend countless nights finishing projects and studying

↺ You would be so engrossed in reading something that you would accidentally bump into Aventurine from behind, stumbling back with your book falling to the floor 

↺ Massaging your temples, you would see a hand outstretched to you as an offer to help you up (which you graciously took)

↻ When you think back to that time when Aventurine helped you pick yourself up, along with your book, you flush in embarrassment and lightly berate yourself for not watching your surroundings

↻ Working with Aventurine had its perks and flaws, the perks being the pay and the flaws being the tasks and having someone so unpredictable as your boss

↺ You could never tell when Aventurine was joking or not (you found it hard to understand him so you just nodded along to the things he said)

↻ After a few months of working under him, the two of you started bonding over various things

↺ Although you were too young to gamble, you learned a couple tricks that Aventurine had when playing different card games with others (you also learned a few cheat hacks Aventurine does but we won’t talk about that)

↻ Aventurine was able to watch you slowly come out of your shell, becoming more talkative and friendly with him and your coworkers

↺ When he noticed your change in behavior, he was taken aback but was happy to embrace this newfound side of yours (he feels like a dad watching their child make friends)

↻ There is a hint of favoritism that Aventurine has with you, choosing to dote on you by purchasing various souvenirs and trinkets he gathered on his trips (they reminded him of you)

↺ A keychain? Consider it purchased. A snack basket? He already has it on hand. Aventurine spends his money like it’s nothing, especially when it comes to his kid (despite you being a teen, he still calls you ‘kid’ much to your dismay)

↻ Aventurine would definitely gossip with you about work, etc…

↻ Honestly, in a more modern (?) setting, he’d be that proud soccer mom who takes photos of his kid and boasts to the other soccer moms

↺ “You see that little rascal up there? That’s my kid!”

↻ At first, seeing you get along with Aventurine was a surprise to many, even Aventurine himself

↺ He didn’t really have friends, or at least, someone he could freely talk to about anything and everything

↺ He doesn’t really open up to you about his past until later, and even then, he tries not to be too descriptive as he doesn’t want to make you feel bad (but you still do)

↻ When you open up to Aventurine about your struggles, why you joined the IPC, etc.… he’ll see himself a bit in you, making him feel protective of you and this ultimately brings the both of you closer together

↻ Thinking about this dynamic the two of you share, Aventurine wonders if he would make for a good parent, despite the infamous reputation Sigonians have

↺ You’d notice him going quiet here and there as he looks like he’s deep in thought, waiting patiently for him to snap out of it, you’d watch as he resumes the conversation like nothing had happened

↻ If there is a chance you guys get to visit a planet together, especially if it is one that he is familiar with, he’ll give you a tour and take you to some of his favorite spots

↺ If it is one he isn’t familiar with, the two of you would look like lost children who are wandering around looking at popular spots

↻ Honestly, if you had the chance to meet Topaz, she wouldn’t understand how you can tolerate Aventurine’s behavior

↺ Nonetheless, Topaz is happy that her coworker has a connection with someone, finding the small family dynamic adorable (she’d never admit that to Aventurine)

↻ Of course, Aventurine would definitely tease you because you’re younger than him, acting like the annoying big brother he is

↺ “Huh!? Where did my chips go!? Aventurine!” “What~? Don’t look at me, I didn’t touch them.” “You’re such a liar! You have crumbs on your face! What– is that my drink that you’re holding!?” “...No..?” 

↻ Despite everything, you still enjoy spending time with your unexpected friend (and newfound family member)

------

“_____! Look at what I’ve brought~.” Aventurine sang, plopping a huge gift basket on top of your desk. The papers that were stacked fluttered a little, some falling around you onto the ground. 

You were startled at the unexpected gift, looking at all the luxurious gifts and snacks that were neatly displayed in a beautifully woven basket. The red and gold ribbon tying the clear bag at the top finished it nicely, giving it a clean yet expensive look. 

“Aventurine!? Just how much did you buy this for??” You gaped, examining the interior although the lightning made it a bit difficult to see. You could recognize a few items, all being pricey and popular on its original planet. 

“Bah! Don’t worry about it. I couldn’t help but get it since it included some of the things you were talking about before.” The way he was so casual about getting something expensive threw you off, but then again, this was Aventurine. Deciding to shake off the shock, you gave him a grateful smile. 

“Thank you, Aventurine.” “Don’t mention it, kid.” “I’m not a kid, Aventurine! If anything, you act more like one than me!” “Pff, good joke. Now get back to work, kid.” “Ugh.”

------

⋘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ⋙

note - hope you guys enjoy this! i had fun writing this lol. there was actually two separate requests for an aventurine and sunday with a teen! reader, so i decided to write them together.

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

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

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

Keep reading

Yandere! Noble! Scaramouche x GN! Reader (Arranged Marriage)

A/N: hey look first post!!!! this blog is basically just a place to dump my thoughts on yanderes and situations w them// if you’re not comfortable w that, please leave!!! this is not the place for you

GN reader but!!! the word “bride” is used once so do w that what you will .

remember, this is a mature blog !!! don’t like don’t read!!!!!!!!

warning(s): male! yandere, toxic relationships, slightly narcissistic yandere, verbal abuse, child neglect, arranged marriage, toxic behavior, bad parenting skills, loneliness, obsession, yandere scaramouche, scaramouche is his own warningetc. etc.

Synopsis: there’s this specific scenario ive been thinking of lately : an enemies to lovers, but with a yandere that is particularly bitter and hasn’t really experienced an unconditional love before but then his initial hatred of you turns into an obsession. I thought scara was perfect for it :)

—————————

neither of you had wanted to get married; you, the child of the last bloodline of a falling noble family, and scaramouche, heir to one of the wealthiest and most prestigious names in the empire, would have never been pushed to marry under normal circumstances. it could only be assumed that fate had revealed its hand and placed its destiny upon you.

you had never even met the young man that society had branded as ruthlessly curt with a lash-like tongue. you had never expected to, considering how far apart you were, in different circles and in different worlds

he was the duchess’ nephew and only heir, and was untouchable in both stature and power. in contrast, your family name was declining rapidly. you knew why your mother and father had accepted the marriage proposal the day it came, and you knew why they decide not to tell you until the letter in reply had already been sent. you had no say in the matter

how you parents arranged a marriage between the two of you? well, you could certainly guess; noble ladies gossiped and gasped about the young man who was rich with a handsome face, but with an incredibly arrogant personality and a razor tongue that both reflected his wit and endless scorn. you thought that the rumors must have been over exaggerated, as they always were, but for the duchess to have to reach out to your family to find a spouse for her son? had all the other contestants being rejected, and now they were picking through the scraps that were left? or perhaps, had they rejected him?

now, you weren’t so sure

even then, some part of you had never thought they would agree to something like this; they had concluded that this was what was best for you, had even told you that you will live a much happier life if you were in a household that wasn’t always on the edge of crumbling and giving way to time; you could see that they did have the best of intentions. and still, you felt betrayed

unbeknownst to you, at the time, your fiancé had felt the same way toward his mother; the expression of his feelings on the matter, however, included a lot more yelling and rage in his questions as to why he was being dragged into this. he was used to being disappointed, but being so blatantly used?

unfortunately, scaramouche’s defiance was only met with a cold silence and a blank stare, and after he had vehemently denied to go along with the marriage, his mother had only said that nothing could be done. he had no choice in the matter.

and the gentle glint in her eyes, that had still remained their after all these years, that stayed as she firmly reprimanded him, only served to make him more furious.

and so, his resentment for you, the other victim in this situation, came naturally.

when he met you for the first time, his regularly crass and sarcastic attitude only got worse. you could see the embarrassment dawn on both your parents’ and his mother’s faces, cringing every time his voice got a little too loud or when he said something particularly blunt. he made snide comments on your upbringing, your title, even your clothing wasn’t spared the ruthless bite of his words. between his curt and cold attitude and your futile attempts at making conversation, you two didn’t exactly hit it off when you first met

and then, when you finally got sick of it and told him what exactly you thought of his words and his money and where he could shove them, his resentment turned into something much more personal: spite.

he reasoned that he had every right to hate you. to be overly rude and childish whenever you so much as got the idea to be five feet near him. he never asked for the marriage. he doesn’t care about how much it would benefit the two of you, and he’s long past trying to finally please his mother into loving him, so why should he have to act like the perfect husband for someone who is below him?

your parents seemed to love you plenty though. if their guilty eyes and shifty glances were anything to go by. even if they were shamelessly grabbing at the wealth and prestige of another family, he could tell that this marriage was meant for you and your future. even if you didn’t want it. even if you seemed to dread it. every time they brought you over for a scheduled date in the lonely garden at the back of the duchess’s estate, there seemed to be a subtle pain in their eyes.

perhaps, a paternal regret at having to make their child miserable so that they could eventually have the things they weren’t able to give them.

…well, it gave him more reason to torment you.

————————

there seemed to be no way out of the awkward meetings. your parents were hell bent on having scaramouche as your husband, and his mother was just as determined. so, when you did have to suffer through seeing each other, you kept trading thinly veiled insults, practically sulking every time you heard the others name, and bickering with the each other at every opportunity. it became a familiar routine for the two of you, to not get along and verbalize your frustrations through jabs and taunts

strangely enough, scaramouche grew fond of the bickering. you were practically the only person who would speak to him so casually. with so little respect and without fear of him blowing up. he thought it was refreshing. no one hardly ever talked to him anymore, and even a child that had everything and more could not curb his own loneliness by himself…he would never tell you that, though.

he thought that at least it was entertaining to tease you. actually, if you weren’t so annoying, he might have actually gone as far to say it’s pleasant having you in his company. It certainly beats the large, lonely house he had to wander every day.

plus, when was the last time he had talked this much? when someone had looked at him and acknowledged his existence without him having to work for it?

—————————

as the engagement progressed, you two ended up spending hours together every week, whether you wanted to or not, and while you were mentally and emotionally exhausted from the stress your parents were putting you through, he’s looking forward to your meetings like they’re the highlight of his week…it’s ridiculous, he thinks, and he thinks, and he thinks, and oh god now he can’t get you out of his head.

then suddenly, you’re calling it off. the whole engagement. miraculously, you guilted your parents into going back on what they had agreed to.

his mother is appalled and frustrated, a bit exasperated now that she has to find another suitable bride for her son.

scaramouche is beyond furious.

he goes quiet with rage. he’s more snappish now, towards the maids, towards everyone. his attitude is no longer his usual arrogance and crudeness. his usual bitterness rose into an explosive temper and ruthless training just to keep himself confined to a state of sanity. there is, once again, for the first time in many, many years, an unmistakable fear of abandonment that is raging in his head. he feels so wronged.

and it’s your fault.

and then, he goes silent. if they thought it was bad when he talked, see what they think when he’s quiet.

for his mother, it’s unnerving. to the servants, it’s downright terrifying.

no one realizes that he’s calculating. no one really expects it. everyone assumed this was one big temper tantrum after suffering a huge blow to his pride.

scaramouche was really only clutching his shattered heart after giving it to someone who threw it away.

—————————

what he wants at first is revenge.

that’s what he wants to think he wants. he wants to make things even between the two of you; make you suffer like you made him. force his way into your mind in the worst way possible, and keep himself there to get the message across.

for the first few agonizing days after the annulment, he thinks; maybe that he should tamper with your parents businesses and make you a pauper, someone who is reduced to having to take care of their parents after you fall from the graces of society. and then, after that, he’s hoping you’d come crawling back to him, and ask for his help and his hand. and he’d oh-so graciously accept you back into his life; not before making you beg for it, though.

then again, perhaps toying with whatever lover you have would be a good way to get back at you. he just assumes that you have one, because you must, for you to just abandon him like that.

you should have just stayed.

either way, he’s going to make you regret it.

—————————

it doesn’t take much for scaramouche to convince his mother to have a much needed talk with your parents.

and despite everything she’s done, ei does want to make her son happy. she wasn’t blind after all; he’s always seemed to be on edge, ever since the accident, but he had changed in the short amount of time he had know you. the boy she had failed to raise and care for, someone who was now so far out of her reach, seemed to be more calm and content when you were by his side. it had been a long time since she had seen her nephew look forward to something this much.

whether you want the engagement or not matters less to her.

—————————

and so, your resistance all comes apart so easily. Ei is one of the most powerful people in the empire, so it doesn’t take much effort before she’s luring your parents into throwing you back to them and into scaramouche’s waiting arms. It would be the least she could do as his mother

it’s only a matter of time before you’re resting in the palm of his hand once again; the engagement is back on, running smoothly towards your fast approaching wedding, like your little rebellious mishap never even happened

scaramouche is reveling in it. he feels as though he’s won. and in truth, he has. he imagines the look on your face, how you’ll have to greet him eventually, look him in the eyes after tossing him to the side and then losing, and thinks about how he’s going to make your reunion as painful as possible when you do meet again

his wishes are fulfilled when not even a month later are you pushed into the expansive garden by servants and abandoned by them even quicker, watching them scurry away with pale but oddly relieved faces. once again, you were meant to suffer through another lunch date after you thought you had finally escaped and left the gloomy estate behind forever.

the familiar stone pathway and expansive flora only served to bring back bad memories of your failed attempt to gain your freedom and reminded you of what you would have to look forward to for the rest of your life. it’s only the scuffle of boots against the ground that brought you back to reality.

you knew exactly who was standing behind you.

—————————

when scaramouche saw you standing there, muscles taught and shoulders tensed as you refused to look at him, he took his time observing you, savoring the moment and committing it to memory.

his slow and deliberate footsteps did little to calm your fraying nerves. You were both surrounded by tall hedges and the gentle sound of water coming from nearby fountains. no one else was around. You were completely isolated, with only your fiancé- no, your crazed future husband- keeping you company.

and as always, his presence was suffocating.

“you know, trying to run away from me was cute, but it got annoying after the joke was over. did you really think you could go against a duchy? don’t make me laugh.” his voice had a high and condescending lit to it that seemed to grate against your ears. your stony facade crumbled soon after, instantly revealing the confusion and panic that welled in your chest.

“…why did you do it?” your voice came out hoarse and low. you whirled around, finally looking into those violet eyes. scaramouche felt a shiver of excitement run up his spine as your watery gaze met his.

“you hated this engagement just as much as I did. why did you drag me back here? we both could’ve been free.” a bitter laugh escaped your throat that pathetically choked off into a sob.

he laughed lowly as his head titled down, shielding his eyes from you. the sight made you shudder involuntarily.

“‘drag you back?’ deary, you belong to me. you did the moment I decided I wanted you. what you want doesn’t matter anymore. You don’t know what’s good for yourself, clearly.”

when he lifted his head back up to meet your eyes, he was smiling. the soft turn of his lips wasn’t full of cruelty or malice, scorn or hatred, and somehow that made the uncharacteristically gentle look so, so much worse.

scaramouche picked up your limp hand, gently turning it over, and slipped a ring onto it. it was like putting a heavy shackle on a caged bird; it was needless and unnecessary, you were already trapped. the world did not need anything else but the duchess’s final word to let everyone know who you belonged to.

but, as you stood there staring blankly ahead, you noticed scaramouche seemed genuinely happy to see the band resting on your finger.

the smile he wore turned more playful, more mocking, as those piercing eyes looked at you as if you were pitiful and small, beneath him, something that needed guidance

and his purple eyes locked with yours as he slowly pulled you to him and brought you into a soft kiss.

—————————

“Give me your love. Give me your validation. Hand yourself over to me, body, mind, and soul.”

“And what if I don’t want to?”

“Darling, do you think you have a choice?”

Okay so maybe I'll give a couple headcanons about yandere! Sugar daddies!!

Nepobaby! Scaramouche who isn't the least bit upset that he's known for his very successful mother. Brandishing his money and power, he laughs in the face of those who tell him that he isn't self made. He laughs because he doesn't care. Known for controversy and being bratty, he's not an easy person to even be in the same room with. But he has a particular love for taunting you. The first time he picks you up in one of his fancy cars, you're trembling. He loves the taking pity on you, the poor college student struggling to get by, flashing money on your face. Taking you to places he knows you can't even dream of afford to spend a year's worth of your salary on lavish. It's almost crazy that someone so rich and powerful seems obsessed with your time, bombarding your phone with practically hundreds of texts and calls if you're even an hour late, quick to tell you how important he is. You can't afford to live without you, he tells you, you need his money. You need him.

CEO! Diluc who is self made, but humble regardless. Running a big corporations all by himself is quite a lonely job, he explains to you, which is why a man such as himself if willing to pay for companion ship. He's the epitome of a gentleman, not even asking for intimacy even after months of dates and thousands of dollars spent on you. Diluc says that he just enjoys your company, but even that gets to be a bit much. What was initially started as you just seeing him for dates on weekends became spending the days at his house and even sitting in his office while he filed documents. He just enjoys seeing you there, making you quit your job and even school, saying that he can support you so they're not necessary. Even with your large paycheck, you feel as if what he wants is too much, but mentioning this means your met with soft spoke harsh comments, implying that you're ungrateful for all that was given to you.

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

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

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

“I’ve got you now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sagacious. Provocative. Challenging.

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

Sly, sly little songbird.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Perhaps we were made for each other." “

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

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

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

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

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

 “How long are you willing to pursue me?”

“Until you submit to me.”

“Then, until you set me free.”

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

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

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

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

Fly away, little singing nightingale.

may i ask for scara for B, G, H, Q, T ? :0

(no pressure 🎀)

-🫧anon

ALL THE PRESSURE BESTIE! I ALREADY HAD A COUPLE OF THESE WRITTEN, CAUSE GUESS WHAT?? IM A SIMP!!

Anyways, thanks for the request, bubbles!! I threw in a couple extra (the ones I wrote already) just to thank you (no other reason).

TW: mentions of self harm (very slight, I promise)

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

Willing and able, Scaramouche can and has killed for you. Once out of protection and the other time as a warning. Blood on his hands means nothing to him and to him, any human life except for yours, is expendable.

The way you look at him after does make him falter a little, there's a genuine fear in your eyes. It's a visceral look that only those truly afraid of death can show, and thus he did choose not to commit such acts in front of you anymore, but that doesn't mean they don't happen.

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

His heart is a closed lock box that will probably never be opened. Vulnerability is a weakness and he refuses to be weak, especially around you, who will use anything to your advantage to get away.

But there are times where his walls will fall. Times when he's not the balladeer, or number six, or even Scaramouche. There are times when he's just a scared, confused puppet.

He's only shed tears in front of you once. I'm the dead of night, his voice was soft. You asked him, not as a captive, but as a person, “why are you doing this to me?” And his response was a single tear, a moment of weakness, a moment where he lost himself.

That tear was wiped away as quickly as it fell and he was back to his usual demeanor, cursing himself for such shortcomings.

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

While he hates to admit it, his love is anything but a game. To him, this is blatantly serious, and any attempt to escape is an attack against him personally.

Your escape attempts aren't cute, nor are they funny. He's done all of this for you, yet you don't want it? You don't want him? It's not fun having to drag you back after you try to get away, but the sight of you begging to him on your knees for forgiveness, that was exciting.

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

The day he took you, was the worst day of your life. The day you met him was the day you ruined your life, but the day he took you was the day your life truly ended.

You still had nightmares about that day, waking up in a cold sweat and having to look at the reason for all your fears. He slept peacefully while your chest heaved and sweat dripped down your face.

The doors to your home, the windows, any place that a person could get in, someone forced their way through. Your house was swarmed with armed Fatui guards,all of them big, strong, and holding weapons. Fighting back was barely an option against Scaramouche, even with a vision, but against all of them together, you knew you stood no chance.

Grabbed and pulled out of your door, you kicked, screamed, begged, and cried. Anything you could think of as they dragged you to a carriage. His carriage. Where he sat waiting for you, a nonchalant look on his face.

If you knew that that'd be the last time you'd seen your home, you would've looked at it harder.

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

The only thing that would ever keep you away from Scaramouche is death itself, but even the solace of that is oke that you won't be able to enjoy.

When he takes you, you are his and his alone. He won't allow you to run away or even harm yourself. He views you as something he owns and treasures, hurting it would be hurting something that he loves.

If you do manage to get away, what a smart, but stupid thing you are. There is nowhere he won't find you and nowhere he isn't willing to go to get you back. You'd never be safe for a second, running to the ends of the earth. Life would be constantly looking over your shoulder and lacking trust in anything and everyone. It would make you ask if leaving was even worth it? If what you were doing now, constantly on the run, was even living?

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

Tears are a sign of weakness, he knows that best. Maybe that's why he takes pity on you when you cry. His harsh exterior can be melted slightly by your little sobs and begging, but that doesn't mean you'll get your way. But even you have noticed that his punishments are a bit softer when you've cried and his touch becomes oh so much gentler.

Slinking away from his touch does cause a pain in his chest though. Knowing that you despise him so much, you don't even want him near you anymore. These are quick ways to get him to calm down slightly, a type of reaction that lightens the blow of his usual attitude.

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

You are a smart thing, aren't you? You'll learn eventually. Compliance is his biggest weakness, you doing and acting as you're told actually makes him trust you. It takes time of course, but act right for long enough and suddenly he's less irritable and more complacent with you as well.

The straw that really breaks the camel's back is begging. Scaramouche needs you, he won't say it, but he does, and he wants you to need him too. Say that he's the only one who can do something for you, and suddenly he's practically putty in your hands. Beg sweetly enough and that hard exterior will crumble. All it takes is a saccharine spoken, “Please, my lord."