Warning: Murder (not You Or Him), Vampire Scaramouche, Angst(?), Yandere, Attempted Suicide (you), Suicidal

Scaramouche is not as delusional about the nature of your relationship as he is in his contempt towards everyone and everything that surrounds him. He has his share of grudges, prejudices, and deeply rooted reasons for seeing things the way they are distortedly reflected in his eyes, but he is certainly not blind to the veracity cleverly embedded in your serene front.

He does not expect you to be enamored with him and neither does he fool himself into thinking you would pretend to be smitten with him upon the very first glance cast. If anything, he is perfectly aware that you are either indifferent or outright hostile toward him, but you know what? He couldn’t care less about your words and actions. He has no concern for your feelings because his own ones – those sentiments he worked so hard on shutting out of his system – shall always be the first and only priority to focus on. After all, you made him like this. You made him weak, cornered, in a stalemate with no solution, and he will be inclined to detect and analyze what exactly made the thought of you appear in his brain, let alone the need to interact with you directly to course through his frigid body.

You have no affection for him? Fine. You fear him? You better do. You somehow read his mind and reciprocated the contagiousness of the plague that is his obsession with you? Whatever. It doesn’t matter if you hate him or are that depraved to sincerely love him, of all people. You don’t matter at all; your emotions and reactions have zero importance to him. What really matters is why he feels so weird, why he wants you to himself and why is he stepping into the same mousetrap that is humanity over and over again. His injured hubris quells his self-hatred quite efficiently, otherwise he would have been a sight pretty pathetic to behold – at this point, he is so engrossed in denying his innate urges that one might almost pity the divine instrument that, by design, was not supposed to host any cravings inherent in mortal beings, and those same urges overlap with his artificial origins to produce an individual of impressing callousness.

Extremely self-absorbed, vindictive, and lacking a great deal of empathy, Scaramouche, as a result, is unable to perceive you as a person. To him, you are more of a breathing mannequin on whom he unleashes all frustrations and resentments to maintain his mask of sanity and faux affability; a convenient fantasy he shapes and molds as he pleases without the least compunction. Yesterday, you were his mother. Today, you are his older sister. Tomorrow, you will be his lover. You are a mere human; a female of her species, but you are also a tool – just like he is – stolen from celestial influence to serve his cause. Of course, he knows that you may have your troubles and all of that stuff, yet… Does he comprehend the value they hold? Does he consider that your desires are as valuable as his – that you, too, have a right to form and express your opinions and that they hold no less weight than his? That you have a right to do what you want and ignore the discreet woes of the spurned doll?

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Thinking about Ex!Aventurine who doesn't have much of a reaction to your break-up, who is certain you'll crawl back to him within three days at most.

Ex!Aventurine who goes on about his life, after all, every second is worth precious credits. Days, weeks, months and then a few years pass and one day, the realization that you may actually have moved on from him crashes atop him like a pile of bricks.

Ex!Aventurine who tries to contact you through your number and social media, only to find that he's been blocked everywhere. No matter how many fake accounts he makes and how many texts and calls he sends you, you just don't respond and it frustrates him so much.

Ex!Aventurine who is ecstatic when he sees you again in Penacony, sprinting his way to you and ready to give you a hearty reprimand on your prolonged avoidance.

Ex!Aventurine whose heart sinks when he sees you coiled around the arms of another, smiling and laughing in pure happiness and paying not a millisecond of attention to him. Is this a joke?

Ex!Aventurine who corners you when an opportunity arises, ready to strangle every answer out of you so please tell him this is just some prank and you still love him—and, his heart shatters when you give him the coldest truth of his life.

Yandere!Ex!Aventurine who feels the nudging of an infamous green monster every time he sees you with them in the halls of the Reveries or in dreamscapes. Who wants to tear his hair out when he sees you giving that dreamy look to that vermin, one he thought belonged only to him? Who wants to tear that imbecile limb from limb every time he touches your skin.

Yandere!Ex!Aventurine who wishes to turn back time and drag you back to him. Who drowns himself in liquor, round after round at the casino and the sweetest of dream bubbles, yet, nothing compares to your warmth. Whose regret and jealousy slowly eat away at his left-over sanity til he's on the verge of committing something that'll soothe his agony but, create one for you.

Yandere!Ex!Aventurine who spares no warning, catapulting mysterious debts and financial troubles your way with no trace that it was his doing. But when you still don't leave your so-called lover, he finally snaps.

Yandere!Ex!Aventurine who takes it slow, one by one, patiently and meticulously ; first the fingers, then the legs, then the eyes and at last the heart of your ‘beloved’. But is not satisfied still and has every piece of their remains fed to hungry wolves right in front of your eyes.

Then, Yandere!(No longer Ex?)Aventurine will come to you and wipe away your tears, shush your curses and hateful words with a kiss. Telling you to forget and resume what you had with him. And you absolutely cannot say no, after all, what other choices do you even have?

Arataki Itto, Scaramouche/Balladeer / child female reader.

Synopsis: His reaction to you calling him “onii-san”.

— ( In Japanese folklore, tsukumogami are tools that have acquired a kami or spirit, and are also considered a type of youkai. Here, the reader is a weapon tsukumogami that has manifested in the form of a human child, and has gained the power to fight on her own and to wield herself. )

Kazuha, Thoma & Gorou ver. / Xiao ver.

#ARATAKI ITTO

Itto actually didn’t hear (y/n) the first time she called him “onii-san”, as he was too preoccupied in combing his bangs back after obliterating a group of nobushi that set up camp too close to Hanamizaka. (Y/n) pouted beside him as he continued to ignore her in favour of fixing his appearance, and she then tugged on his coat to draw his attention. The half-oni hummed, lowering his gaze to meet her eyes.

“What’s wrong, my lil kachimushi?” he asked, picking her up by her armpits, “You hungry? So am I! Let’s get you eel sushi, your favourite~” Before she could say anything in response, Itto tucked her under his arm like a sack of potatoes and rushed off to the city.

After he bought eel sushi for his tsukumogami, the pair made their way back to Hanamizaka, where they found a nice spot to sit in under the large cherry blossom tree. He leaned back against the trunk with his arms folded behind his head while she dug into her food.

“Are you hungry, kitty? Here, have some eel,” (y/n) chimed, offering a cat the small pieces of sushi on her palm.

Itto smiled at (y/n) fondly as he watched her share some of her food with the stray cats and dogs around her. She’s such a sweet child, yet so deadly when wielding her uchigatana. He first met her in front of her former master’s grave on a rainy day; the poor girl looked so pitiable, hugging her sword as her little body trembled from the cold. Thanks to his oni blood, he could tell right away that she’s a masterless tsukumogami. His heart went out to her and he decided to take her under his wing, a decision that he never regretted.

Besides the gang becoming more lively with her around, she’s a sword that brings the gift of luck to her master. Itto always emerged from his fights and bets victorious whenever she’s with him or simply nearby. Reaching out, Itto petted (y/n)’s head affectionately, making her look at him.

“What’s wrong, Itto-niisan?” she asked, blinking. His eyes widened when she called him big brother, and his jaw went slack in surprise. She misinterpreted his reaction as disapproval and started panicking. “I-I’m sorry, goshujin-sama! I was being disrespectful and deserve to be punished-” Her sentence was cut short when the half-oni suddenly pulled her into a tight hug.

“I promise you that I’m not mad. I’m actually really happy!” he exclaimed, breaking away from her with a beam, “Does that mean you’re finally comfortable talking to me? I was worried that you didn’t like being around me, since you address me so formally…” His grin faded as an uncharacteristically gentle expression softened his sharp features. “I want you to be happy with me, (y/n)-chan.”

(Y/n) flushed at his words and simply ducked her head to avoid his eyes.

“Can you say it again?” he implored.

Lifting her gaze, she timidly said, “Itto-niisan.”

“You’re so precious,” Itto told her, laughing afterwards. Pressing his forehead against hers, he then uttered, “I promise that I’ll never leave you alone, so you won’t have to sit under the cold rain again.”

A minuscule smile crawled over her lips before she moved to wrap her tiny arms around his torso. “I won’t let you die either, Itto-niisan. As long as you keep me by your side, victory will always be yours.”

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YANDERE FATUI/HARBINGER SCARA>>>>>>>

The way he would kill anyone who would even look at you, if their someone in the fatui or Harbingers he will try and make their life hell (and he would succeed) wether you know his actions or not

Perhaps it’s fear, admiration, love, it doesn’t matter it’s the way you look at him the way he knows your calling to him, your his

I LOVE THE WHOLE HARBINGER, AND YANDERE AESTHETIC FOR SCARA

From aree: hard agree with you, anon. Harbinger Scara as a Yandere just hits all the right boxes. Hope you don't mind me writing a short lil bit right here. I sort of hyperfixated on the staring thing.

tw for implied human experimentation and slight body horror

always watching// yandere!scaramouche

Scaramouche seems to get lost in his own thoughts a lot, staring off into the distance.

The Fatui grunts know better than to approach him when he's stuck in his own head. None of them can exactly tell whether he's simply bored at the moment or he's planning another murder that would change the course of history, but either way, getting close while he's thinking does not bode anyone well.

Currently, they've taken to noticing that his eyes always seem to find their way to you when he's deep in thought. His eyes are a burning glare, almost willing with focus alone for your very body to combust into a flurry of flames on the spot.

But of course, you stay safely intact, Scaramouche is left to stew in his self-imposed hatred for you and anyone bearing witness to all this tries their best to steer clear of the angered Harbinger whilst wondering what you did to earn such negative emotions. However, there are those who notice that his anger is not exactly aimed at you, but more so what you're doing.

Because once your attention is on Scaramouche, it's as if all the anger fizzles out - his face could be carefully blank or a smirk or a cruel laugh. The anger only comes back full force when you're looking away. Some of the grunts have taken to wondering: is he pretending to be cordial with you, while sending you hateful looks when your back is turned? He must hate you, right? But that didn't make sense, Scaramouche didn't even bother to hide his disdain for the other Harbingers, so why make the effort for you?

Why is he glaring at you like that?

Scaramouche hates it when your attention is on someone else. Thankfully, none have made the connection. But even if they did, they'd sooner use the knowledge to their advantage before saying it to his face. So for now, as far as he knows, you and the Fatui are none the wiser.

He hates it. Why? Just why? Surely, you can tell he wants to keep talking to you, even when he spits insult after insult, telling you your very presence was annoying, how you keep wasting his time with small talk when you can just get to the point. But you don't. There's a limit to how much of his disdain you can take, and when you walk away from him to continue your other duties, only then does he realize he has spread too much of himself to leave some room for you. But it's too late. And he does it again and again. You'll come back to him again, he'll insult you again, and you'll leave… again.

If there's anything he's thankful for it's that you still keep coming back, so surely, you feel an ounce of whatever he feels for you as well? Why else would you come back to him only to be ridiculed to hell and back? Yes, surely you love him. Even if it's just a fraction, it's a fragment Scaramouche is willing to guard with his life until he can take more of it.

So when he notices that some people have started occupying your time more and more, well, he's not thrilled, at the very least.

He thought he made peace with that fact a long time ago. Of course you need to talk to other people. Humans are social creatures that thrive off of the interactions they make day by day. It was annoying, but he could let it go. Until he realized the more time you spent with them, the less he got with you.

The realization kicked in when he approached you while you were talking to a Fatui skirmisher. You nod at him and he opens his mouth to say something before you immediately turn back to continue your previous conversation. He gapes for a second, for the first time caught off-guard by your actions, before he's gritting his teeth and snapping at you. The Fatui skirmisher makes an escape for it the moment they find an opening - Scaramouche will be sure to give them a fitting punishment later - before he turns to you and all the fire is put out once more. Your expression is confused and he'd be lying if he said the small fear he sees in your eyes makes him uneasy.

He staves off from seeing you for a while as he cools his head, but that idea backfired hard when he all but ran around Zapolyarny Palace looking for you. When you greet him again, like nothing was ever wrong, Scaramouche makes a promise to himself. It's not like you were the problem. He sees the way you smile at others and he's sure against all doubt that it's emptier compared to when you talk to him. It's everyone else. Everyone else was the problem.

Besides, it's not like he can stop you from whatever you were doing. If he did, you'd start acting differently toward him, too. Your smile would drop whenever he was in the area. You'd wear simpler clothes when you were with him. You'd lose your voice whenever he was in your line of sight. So no, making you stop was not part of the solution.

He just had to make everyone else stop.

Scaramouche thinks they are underestimating how he watches. He has his eyes on you, yes, but that doesn't mean he is no longer aware to what happens around the two of you. He's not all that concerned, however, not anymore. Years of patience has taught him well how to deal with humans. He is well prepared for small little hiccups such as this. He won't hurt them, oh no, not yet. The Fatui needs as many of its people in tip top shape as much as possible, so he can't lay a hand on them.

All is fair outside the organization, however.

Whoever has found themselves under his watchful gaze will discover a lovely little package waiting back home for them. Inside, they will find two perfectly preserved eye balls bobbling up and down in a glass case of unidentified liquid. Scaramouche thinks its a fun game for the offender - how long will it take for them to find out which loved one the eyes belong to? (He should thank the Doctor for extracting the eyes from the host so flawlessly. He just hopes the mad man kept his promise and returned the person where they were last found, and not confined them into another experiment table. Then again, he couldn't care less what comes after. He wipes his hands clean from that.)

It's a threat and a warning all rolled into one gift, tied together tightly with a bow not unlike Scaramouche's love for you. The message is clear.

Keep your eyes to yourself.

Pretty soon, almost any and every grunt notices Scaramouche's eyes on you. But in the rare chance that the anger is not there, and there is only you, his eyes seem to say only one thing.

Look at me.

 ＝＝✿＝＝｜✧••❀••✧｜＝＝✿＝＝

✨ Masterlist ✨

Taglist: 💛@wonpielle 💜@shikanosn

🌙 Disclaimer: Characters are not mine and belong to their respective creators. Their portrayal is merely my own interpretation of them and may not be accurate to their intended characterization. I stake no claim to the original works, only to the ideas and plot of the fictitious stories I’ve written them into.

I really love your post, can I request Sunday and Aventurine with Diona reader?

For Aventurine, I think he will be your close customer in the casino (I don’t know if casino have bar but…meh;) )

For Sunday, I think he will tease you the most, pat head, scratch chin and treat you like a cat… dispite you hiss to stop. (in a tsundere way)

ꜱᴜɴᴅᴀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀɪɴᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴅɪᴏɴᴀ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

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

content - reader is gender-neutral/ diona! reader/ platonic relationships/ familial relationships/ angst and some fluff

warnings - SPOILERS FOR 2.1 / angst / some characters might be ooc

⋘ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ... ⋙

prelude - You are a young bartender working at one of Penacony’s grandest casinos, a bustling place with customers from all corners of the universe. The skills you have when you’re on the other side of the counter are ones you both love and hate. Love, because you took pride in serving customers drinks that are known as the best throughout Penacony, and hate, because alcohol was something your father never ceased to get enough of… 

You built your reputation up from the ground, eventually getting employed as a bartender at the casino where you now work. Despite your age, your skills had convinced the higher-ups and thus you were plunged in front of the crowd of drunken customers, brewing and making concoctions that were outlandish and exotic. The cat ears and tail you had also drew some attention from customers who were enamored with how adorable you were, treating you like some kid (which you were).

After a roll of your eyes and a scolding, you always rolled up your sleeves and got to work. 

↻ Sunday was not a regular at the bar, but he would pop in here and there to check how business was doing

↻ When word had gotten around that a kid with cat ears and a tail had started working there, his interest got the best of him which led him to a seat at the counter

↻ The mahogany bar counter complimented the lavish environment, filling the atmosphere with a comforting warmth that lured a variety of customers in 

↻ When you had popped up to serve Sunday, he was intrigued at your professionalism and friendliness, finding it easy to engage in a conversation with you as you made him his drink

↺ Sunday rarely intended to get drunk, so he asked for something light and refreshing which you happily obliged to

↻ It didn’t take Sunday long to become somewhat of a regular there, the two of you got along quite well despite his ceaseless teasing 

↺ At first, he’d give you a light pat on the head and buy you things that cats normally like (it was an accident at first but after seeing your distaste for some of the things he got, he started getting them as a joke), then when the two of you were like siblings, he’d scratch under your chin, place a toy mice on the counter before he’d leave the bar, and use a laser to get your attention

↺ He’d chuckle at your fuming self that wiped even harder at a stain on a glass, but he’d know when to stop if it got too far

↻ You know how I mentioned that he’d get you things cats normally liked? Well you’d probably be happy with some of the stuff he got you, like the fish plushies or cat grass which you added to some of the dishes you made

↻ Eventually, Sunday would learn of your father’s alcoholism and how you swore to tear down the alcohol industry, comforting you when your eyes started to water at the thought of your dad

↺ Although Sunday could never understand your exact experiences, he’d do his best to provide you comfort and support whenever you felt down

↺ He wouldn’t meddle in your family’s business or issues, but he’d pray to Xipe for the best of you and your father

↻ Whenever you are upset, Sunday would like to help you come up with new concoctions as he finds the process interesting to watch (it serves as a distraction from whatever is bothering you as you are now focused on potential hits) 

↺ Admittedly, he’d find some of the ingredients you use disgusting, but it wouldn’t hurt to try something new now, would it? (Sunday is utterly surprise at the pleasant taste, feeding into your pride) 

↻ Sunday would support your work, promoting the place to new guests who wanted to try something that seemed like it could only be made in dreams

↻ If Sunday were to ever mistakenly get drunk, you’d happily (and worriedly) take him to Robin or someone he trusted 

-----

“Ugh, Sunday! You drank a little too much this time!” 

“..Sorry… I didn’t realize this- *hic* drink would be so.. strong.” 

The scent of alcohol that wafted off Sunday made your ear twitch in annoyance, putting away the glass that you were previously cleaning. “Geez, I didn’t realize that you were such a lightweight.” You huffed, wiping the counter with a damp rag. Sunday gave a breathy chuckle, head leaning on his arms as he closed his eyes. 

Sunday didn’t seem like he was going to sober up anytime soon. 

Sighing, you grabbed the glass that you had put away and filled it with some water before sliding it over to him. You watched him blink open his eyes which stared at the water droplets that dribbled down the side. Slowly, he carefully brought the beverage up to his lips and took a sip, humming in satisfaction at the refreshing taste. 

“...Thank you,” Sunday muttered, slightly more awake than before. 

You nodded at him, starting to dial a phone number that you became familiar with. 

“I’m going to call Robin to come get you, okay?”

“Mmm.. okay.” 

-----

↻ Ooh boy… you would definitely not get along with Aventurine that easily…

↻ As soon as he walked into the bar you were working at you immediately felt a bad vibe coming from him, and you were right

↺ He was suspiciously friendly when he first started talking to you, your ears lowering in caution (your ears are a dead giveaway to how you are feeling so Aventurine caught on easily)

↻ Despite the initial suspicion and threat Aventurine posed in the beginning, he soon became one of your regulars at the bar, his order already memorized for when he came in

↻ Aventurine was surprised by how a young bartender such as yourself landed a job here, curious as to what your backstory was like (and the fact you had cat ears and a tail)

↺ Of course, it took time to build up to a more detailed answer from you, but when you told him he could understand your ambitions

↻ As the sibling-like relationship progressed between the two of you, the both of you were able to show a more vulnerable side to the other when the bar was close to closing and was devoid of customers

↺ You’d be wiping down a glass as he droned on about something, drunk out of his mind while you nodded along in understanding

↺ Aventurine took into consideration that you were still a kid, despite working in a bar part of a renowned casino, trying to avoid dumping his sad backstory onto you 

↻ You knew of the reputation Aventurine upheld, seeing him walk around as people scathed at his very existence (Whether it’s due to them losing a gamble or something else, you aren’t sure)

↺ Part of you understood other’s anger, but another part of you felt bad for Aventurine as you didn’t know how he was able to walk around with eyes glaring at you from every angle (He shrugged off your concern and said it was no big deal, but you saw the empty look in his eyes)

↻ Aventurine enjoys petting your head, finding the fur of your ears so soft and well-taken care of, he only pets you when it seems that you’re upset and need some sort of comfort 

↺ Because your ears and tail are a dead giveaway to your emotions, he’s able to pick up on them quickly

↻ When you tell Aventurine of your plans to make a new drink, he accompanies you and brings you potential ingredients you could use in your mixture (He’s perplexed and worried for his health when you add the most heinous stuff into a cup and call it a drink) (Surprisingly and fortunately, the drink tastes pretty good with a hint of bitterness, but he’s just thankful he didn’t get food poisoning)

↻ You’re very grateful to Aventurine when he gets you all sorts of ingredients from other planets, and when he tells you of his journeys, you always eagerly listen with your cat ears perked up when mixing a drink

 ↺ He shows you photos that he took while visiting the places he traveled to for business, the vast differences between each place filled you with child-like curiosity

↻ Aventurine, on certain days, can drink more than he can and ends up getting drunk, laying his head on the counter as he mumbles about all sorts of things (You gaze at him pitifully from behind the counter lol)

↺ When he’s too drunk to get back to his hotel room, you can either dial up someone he knows or have to take care of him until he’s sobered up enough (You can’t carry his ass up to his room lol)

-----

So far, it had been an ordinary day at the bar you worked at, constantly serving the rowdy and drunk customers who came in for different occasions. When the sun had finally started to dim and the streets were encased in a blanket of darkness, lamps turning on to light the darkened streets, you had started closing up the bar. There were only a handful of customers left, seated at the counter with half-empty glasses. Despite the calming atmosphere that surrounded the bar, you felt as if something was missing. 

That’s right, where was Aventurine? He had promised you he’d stop by tonight to get his usual order but he had not shown up at all. This made you feel a little upset, ears drooping down as you gazed at the bar’s door. When suddenly, the wide doors had been pulled out with that familiar bell chime which alerted that there was a customer. Ears perking back up in excitement, you happily made your way back to the front counter.

Yet.. it wasn’t Aventurine, but a person who had gray hair and wore an almost monotone attire. You had never seen this person before, so you curiously watched as they approached where you were after looking around confused. 

“Hello, are you.. _____?” They asked, taking a seat at the counter. You nodded in response. 

“That’s me! Is there something that you’d like to order? Here’s our menu that contains all the different kinds of drinks we serve!” You smiled, sliding a pamphlet over for them to view. 

…But they didn’t pick it up, yellow eyes flickering back up to meet yours. Your mood seemed to dampen, sensing a feeling of dread as your fur and skin prickled up. 

“Ah.. no, I’m not here for any drinks.” The person cleared their throat, seemingly trying to figure out what to say. “I’m just here to give you this.” 

An envelope that was adorned with a familiar stamp design of a chip was placed into your hands, carefully flipping it to look it over. When you looked back up to the person who delivered this to you, they were gone, the door never alerting you of their departure. So with an uneasy sigh, you opened the letter to view its contents, a sense of comfort filling you as you knew who this was from.

‘ Dear _____,

I wanted to take this final opportunity to say ‘goodbye’ as I won’t be visiting any time soon. I am sorry that I had to leave you on a cliffhanger, but with this letter, I hope you can forgive me, I do not have much time before the grand finale happens here in Penacony. 

Meeting you was a fortuitous encounter and I am glad we became friends, I rarely come across those these days. Thank you for the comfort and safe haven you have provided during my stay here, I am greatly indebted to you. I sincerely hope that you succeed in your ambitions and that despite any hardships you come across, you pull through with an impenetrable determination. 

As I don’t have a lot of time before my departure, I wanted to keep this letter brief and simple. I am not sure when I will be back, but I am hoping that this bar with your presence will serve as a safe harbor for me to return to. 

I bid my final adieu to you, my friend. 

Your dearest friend, Kakavasha ‘

When you had finished reading the letter, you had quickly raced outside to find whoever had delivered this letter to you. But as you ran up and down the streets of Golden Hour, you could find no one in sight, the only company being the occasional passing vehicle. 

With a sob, you plopped down on a bench, not bothering to care about your job at the moment. Where had he gone? What did he mean by ‘grand finale’? These questions endlessly swarmed your thoughts as you tried to wipe away the tears that continuously fell from your eyes. There was no doubt about it, that in some way Aventurine or Kakavasha had departed from this world. This realization had overwhelmed you with emotions of both anger and sadness, balling yourself up with your tail wrapping around you as you cried.

Yet through the tears and grief you felt in the moment, you felt an unrelenting drive to do your best at the bar. You will wait for your friend to come back and when he does, he’ll have a lot of explaining to do. 

-----

⋘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ⋙

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.

Listen, I have been doing a lot of gen-z jokes lately that my friends are so done with me, so like what abt a reader that tells deez-nutz jokes all the time.

Ace definitely is with reader on the deez-nutz jokes. Terrorizing everyone in the mansion with deez-nutz jokes with Ace is now your favorite hobby.

Yes I am projecting rn.

🎲Anon

What if I told you the Gen Z!MC request I’m writing may or may not be exclusively these kinds of jokes. One of my friends too, started making deez nuts and ur mom jokes, and like a disease, it spread to the whole group. It is truly a curse upon this world.

You’re completely right, it would be Ace that joins you on this treacherous journey, the two of you coming to share one singular brain cell . Everyone else in the mansion is sick and tired of it, literally in physical pain when they’re around you two. Those who are able to leave have. Vil has taken on 10 new projects just to get away from this.

Even your other friends are traumatized after you get them with a sick “who’s candice” “can-deez nuts fit in your mouth” joke. Epel died a little inside. Deuce found it a bit funny the first time but is now reconsidering all his life choices.

The only one who can tolerate them is Lilia, who will be giggling while everyone else is stays suffering.

-> Childe had always had a soft spot for young children, so finding you alone in the blood covered snow amongst a massacre touched that familial part of him...

-> They/them pronouns used - reader has no gender! Completely platonic - reader is a child! This is rather dark tone wise, but has fluff! Descriptions of a massacre and blood - no gore or details!

The snow around you was painted red from all the spilled blood - most of it wasn't yours, but it didn't make the situation better. Your poor exposed feet had gone completely numb from standing in the icy snow for such a long time. You had no idea how long you had stood there, but it felt like forever. Your feet weren't the only thing that had gone numb that night. Seeing something even close to this kind of a massacre would destroy most people, let alone someone your age.

All you could see saw the horror you witnessed with the scent of iron smelling blood filling your senses as the winter wind howled around you. You were too engrossed in the scene before you to notice the snow crunching loudly as someone was approaching you. Only after the looming shadow of their figure settled over you did you turn to slowly look at them. They were a tall man in a large white coat and a noticable red scarf that stood next to you observing the scene, he was so tall you had to crane your nect to be able to see his face.

His gaze lowered and you wete met with the sight of his blue eyes, they stared at you as lifelessly as yours did to him. His eyes scanned over your bloodied features until they landed on your eyes that stared back into his - he almost looked like he was searching for something in yours... Not a word was spoken by either of you as another man approached and said something to him, you paid no mind to them or their brief conversation. The tall man kneeled next to you and you turned your whole body to face him.

“You must be cold.” He stated in a friendly tone.

His voice was more energetic and warm than you thought, it almost made you feel comfortable in his presence. He took off the red scarf you had noticed from around his neck and wrapped it around yours, it was still warm. When he was done he even managed to crack a smile from the many times he had to wrap it around your neck. The scarf did little to shield you from the cold by now that you had become numb to it, but it was a nice gesture to and did provide some warmth.

“Are you all alone?” He turned towards the destroyd village as you simply nodded in reply.

After a moment he turned back to look back at you, “What do you say we get out of here, huh? Get you somewhere warm and get you something to eat?”

You oooked at him in silence for a moment before you managed to answer a quiet, “Okay...”

The man smiled a genuine smile before opening his arms for you. Hesitantly you crept closer until he was able to wrap you inside his large coat and carry you in his arms. You spared one more glance towards your once home as he walked away from the destruction. Some people went deeper inside the village after he picked you up, but you couldn't see what they were doing as the man pushed your head away from its direction and you didn't feel like fighting against him.

He arrived before a carriage and the door was opened for him to climb in. He sat you down across from him and took off his coat to wrap it around you like a blanket. Surely he was cold too? Why would he give you his jacket? As if he could read your mind he smiled.

“Don't worry about it, the ride won't be long.” He assured you.

You didn't respond as you turned to gaze out of the window opposite of your village. It was difficult to see anything in the dark, but it didn't matter as you fell asleep shortly after. All that happened took a heavy toll on your body and mind, the man you left with provided enough comfort for you to be able to fall asleep in his presence. It was likely stupid for anyone to do, but you were young and exhausted.

Either way you simply woke up after some time in an unfamiliar place. The room was large and barely lit up, it only held a large desk with a chair, a huge bookshelf and the couch you were currently laying on. The man was nowhere to be seen and you were alone in a strange place, you felt extremely uncomfortable. You began rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you headed to the almost wall covering window.

It was only beginning to light up outside, meaning you hadn't slept that long. The place you were was seemingly huge by the stone fenced courtyard and you were nowhere near ground floor from the looks of it. You had no idea what to do, but you wanted out - you wanted to go home... There was nothing left of it, but it was the only thing you knew. It was familiar and thus felt safe.

You made your way to the only door leading to this room and rattled the knob until the dood opened, thankfully it wasn't locked. Your head quickly peeked outside to see dark and emty halways on both sides of you. Your head kept turning from side to side as you tried deciding which route to take before finally moving to your right. You tried your best to be quiet and sneaky, but your unclothed feet kept making noise against the marble floor.

You kept walking aimlessly through the never ending maze of halls, just how large could one building be? You were beginning to feel exhausted and cold again, you still had yet to eat or drink and your body was beginning to react to it. You felt weaker and wearier with every step you took until you couldn't do it anymore and collapsed on the ground. Your vision was blurry and your ears rang, but you could hear the faint sound of someone approaching.

“Hm? Well, what do we have here?” They said.

You slowly managed to turn your head and see the person behind you. There stood a tall blonde woman with a cruel smirk and bored expression as she stared at you with her arms crossed. She was rather intimidating by her presence and aura... You didn't dare say anything in return.

“To which fool do you belong to then, hm?” She curtly asked.

You again remained silent and frozen in place, yet didn't break the eye contact with her for a second. She let out a long and drawn out sigh before beginning to approach you, the sound of her heels clicked against the floor. Every step she took rang in your ears as you began shaking from the anxiety - what was she going to do? Why was she coming closer? Please, stop!

“Ah, there you are!” A familiar voice echoed through the empty hall.

Relief washed over you as you saw the man with ginger hair approach in a jog, it was completely different from when the woman had slowly crept closer to you. With a big smile on his face he kneeled down before you to raise you into his arms. You held tightly onto his shirt and faced away from the woman.

“You shouldn't have run off like that! I was really worried about you, you know?” His tone was serious but it wasn't scolding or degrading.

“So this is one your rascal siblings then?” The woman asked.

“That's right.” He replied immediately.

“I should have known. Only you would be foolish enough to bring someone outside of the Fatui here.” She sharply said.

“Yeah, yeah my bad. Are you going to do anything about it or will you just blab on about it?” His tone became colder.

“Hm. Just get them out of here before I do.” She turned away to leave.

The man held you firmly but not enough to the point that it would hurt you. After a while of listening to the sound of Signora's heels he turned to walk back the way he came, to his office. He had been stupid to leave you alone and unguarded with the door unlocked, had he not found you he didn't know what the witch would have done with you. Still, thankfully it was her and not someone like Dottore...

You arrived back in his office in no time, it felt surprisingly comforting after your encounter. The man sat you back on the small couch you had slept on previously, his jacket was still on it the way you had left it. He pulled a chair from his desk to sit directly in front you with a beaming smile on his face. You simply sat put and stared at him.

“Alright, let's start with the basics. What's your name?” He asked in a friendly tone.

You looked away for a brief second, as if you had forgotten your own name before mumbling it to him. He smiled brighter and told you it was a nice name, he introducing himself as Ajax in return - but asked that you didn't call him that when in here. You nodded in agreement.

“So, what do you say we go get something to eat? I promise you that earlier and it must have been a while since you've eaten.” He stood up but suddenly stopped in place as he noticed your clothes and everything suddenly set in.

Your clothing was torn and clearly worn-out, the original colour was hard to make out from under all the dirt and blood. Blood... You weren't hurt were you? He had entirely forgotten to check such a factor, even if it was obvious to others. He had grown used to the sight of blood but seeing you covered in it hurt him deeply.

Yes - he barely knew you, but you reminded him of his siblings. Due to his close relationship with them he had always had a soft spot for them. Finding you all alone admist a burning poor excuse of a village in the midst of a massacre was terrible and pulled on his heartstrings. The way you stood in the freezing cold with that hopeless dead look...

Though you had gone through something incredibly terrible, something not many could ever understand - he didn't want to leave you oike that. Maybe, just maybe he could someday bring a smile on your face like he did to his siblings. You were still young and had your whole life ahead of you, while he was in no way a good person, perhaps he could positively influence you.

“Um, how about I let you get yourself cleaned before hand?” He rubbed the back of his head.

You nodded and got up to hold his outstretched hand. It was warm and comforting as he lead you through the long halls to a door. He opened the lock to reveal a small changing room and a door to the bathing room where you could clean yourself. He left you for a moment and returned with some clothes that were clearly too big for you, but would do for now.

You didn't waste time while bathing, you simply vleaned yourself the best you could before stepping out to dress yourself. Ajax was outside the door sitting on the floor when you stepped out. It was rather amusing to see you in the oversized clothing, your hands weren't visible due to your long sleeves.

“Wow, weren't you fast! Come on let's go eat!” He got up and held out his hand out like before.

He lead you in deeper and down several floors of stairs before entering a kitchen the size of the house you previously lived in! It was entirely empty of people and no lights were lit. Ajax lit some candles before rummaging through each cabinet and space for all sorts of food that unbeknownst to you - he had no business taking or touching. But that didn't matter, you were hungry now and he would deal with the consequences later.

Though his priority was feeding you, he didn't hold himself back from enjoying the food as well. He was going to be in so much trouble... But seeing you so contently munching down food made it all worth it. For a faint moment he could have sworn your lips had curled into a smile as you ate a particular piece of food. He would make mental note of it to learn it later on when he had time. After eating you looked tired again, but it wasn't surprising due to the amount you had eaten and all you had experienced today.

“Hey, little buddy! Mind if I pick you up and carry you?” You nodded in reply.

He did just that and raised you gently into his hold. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and laid your tired head on his shoulder, it didn't take long for you to doze off again. He ran his palm along your back in comforting circles, it was something he did with his siblings as well when they were younger. He had missed it as even Teucer had began growing out of it.

Thinking back on his family they would surely take you in and love you as one of them, but he would not introduce you to them right away. You needed time to grow used to him as he had just met you, you were still strangers despite the circumstances and moments you shared earlier. He would need to talk to them about it before then in any case, he wouldn't always be around and didn't want to leave you with even more strangers.

For now he would simply help you heal and get to know you, you would need to trust him before he could let you meet his family, if you wanted that is... If you did then he would introduce you to them slowly and things would work themselves out from there. At least he hoped they would, but real life was never quite that simple or easy sadly.

Childe laid you on the couch for the third time today and pulled his jacket to cover your sleeping form. Asleep you looked like any other child that was just entering and learning about the world you lived in, but inside you were broken by the horrors it had thrown at you at such a young age. Children should remain children until it was time to grow up - and you were far from ready.

You were a prime example of why he worked so hard to protect his siblings dreams and perceptions of this world. You were why he did the Tsaritsa's bidding, why he believed in her vision of the new world they would create and why it was necessary. He may have not been able to protect you, but he could still give you a world worth living in.

A/N: This was absolutely not proofread, because I'm lazy so apologies! Likes and or reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you so much for reading <3

A Linnet on a Bough [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Title: A Linnet on a Bough [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Synopsis: Isolation takes its toll, and you begin to sleepwalk out of the gilded manor Scaramouche has procured for you. Commissioned piece.

Word count: 3300ish

notes: yandere, married reader, sleepwalking, isolation, unhealthy/controlling behavior 

Being the spouse of a Harbringer is no simple matter, and you are no simple spouse. 

If you had married someone from  your village, your life would be simple. You would do what your parents had done, and their parents had done, and their parents had done. Cooking and mending and minding the children, and living out your days without ever venturing very far, except on rare occasions that would be something you would treasure forever.

You would grow old within the confines of the village and die surrounded by your children, who would bury you near your own parents and go on to live out their lives much as you had done.

But you didn’t marry someone from your village, and your life is not so simple. Instead, you were wed to Scaramouche. Sometimes it doesn’t seem real, even now, and you pinch yourself to make sure you’re not nursing some long standing fever-dream. 

Who would have thought? Certainly not you. Sometimes you wonder if even he expected to ever make such a match. But he told you that he intended to marry you, and let the words hang in the air, to be caught or cut down with your decision.

You said yes. Really, you couldn’t say no… but part of you wanted it. Yes, you can admit that much. It was flattering, and isn’t it nice to be flattered? Especially when you were nobody. Just someone who trudged to the town well to fetch water for your elderly parents, someone who helped a stranger (Scaramouche, it turns out, was not the helpless waif you’d assumed) and got a husband for their troubles. 

So, no, life is not simple. Both in the figurative and literal meaning of the word. 

And now, wife of a Harbringer as you are, you have grown acquainted with--and acquainted is the only term for it, for you could never say you were accustomed to any of it--certain luxuries. Food, to your liking, whenever you would like it. Sometimes it is even brought to you out of season, the greatest luxury of all. Clothing made with rich materials; ribbons, jewels, the softest of slippers to adorn your feet. Servants and pampering the likes of which you had only heard about in your old life. 

But there is one luxury that you are routinely denied, no matter how much you pout your lips, no matter how prettily you ask, no matter how many tears blur your vision and wet your eyelashes: the outside world.

You’re not meant to go outside, Scaramouche had told you, the first time it became clear that you were not going to waltz out of the stately manor he’d brought you to for the wedding in order to take in the scenery. 

And so… you don’t go outside anymore. Not in the traditional sense. You rest in covered litters with the windows tacked shut and he’s not above smacking your hand if you try to lift up the corners to catch a glimpse of whatever (or whoever) waits outside. Of course, when he’s not accompanying you, your pitiful looks sometimes convince one of the guards to let you keep one flap untouched so that you can take a peek.

But seeing flashes of the world you used to live in are not the same as truly being within it. The ghost of a breeze against your half-hidden face is not the same as basking in the sunshine. Hearing the sounds of life from a village as you’re carried through it is not the same as stopping at a market stall to buy a treat, asking someone how their day is going, and absorbing the hustle and bustle of everyone around you.

There is no substitute for living out in the world. 

You just don’t know how to convince Scaramouche of that fact.

--

There is a fine line between gratitude and ingratitude, between obedience and surliness, and Scaramouche finds that you walk it all too well. 

It doesn’t matter how much he takes away; how much he removes the temptation by tacking up screens or keeping you within interior apartments, free from all the noise and sights and smells of the outside. You still want to go outside. Something about it calls to you, pulling on your sleeves, no matter what he does.

He loves to hear your voice, nightingale that you are, but sometimes he is so gravely tempted to press a finger to your lips and tell you to hush. 

No matter how much he tries to occupy your mind with something different. Better. Himself, most often (for you should be grateful for that) but things that no one else could say he gave them. Gifts. Trinkets. Things that suited your interests, which he knew very well, because he hangs onto every word that comes from your mouth.

Even the ones that drive him mad. 

At least until you learn to stop saying things that grate his ears and the space where his heart should be. 

The pleadings that come so softly and sweetly--but if that was all, he could manage. It’s the way that you weave your thoughts into every conversation like a pattern in a tapestry--remarking on the weather conditions in regions that the two of you might be traveling in, asking if the retinue had encountered certain flora or animals during the journey. You want to know about the world; you want to be in the world. 

Little things, little threads, connecting you to a world that isn’t exclusively him… why has nothing successfully cut them from your grasping fingers? 

--

“They only blossom under certain conditions, you know.” Your voice is soft and lilting, carrying on the one-sided conversation over a shared table of delicate foods. You take bites in between your verbal fascination with the local flora, a subject you’re all too keen to share with him. “The flowers are said to be so lovely that people have wept at the sight of them. And the fragrance…” You sigh a little, and pick a piece of fruit to nibble on. “There’s nothing like it. Or so I’m told.” 

A pause. You glance at him, eyelashes practically fluttering, then look back at your dishes. 

“And… I’ve never seen one in person,” you add as you reach for another helping of fruit. “I wonder what they’re like.” 

Do you think he doesn’t know what you’re trying to do? Looking at him so sweetly, asking how he finds the food, interspersing dinner with notions of flowers blooming right outside the borrowed manor the two of you have been living in for this current assignment.

But he won’t give in. He won’t be manipulated, not even by you. 

Still… that doesn’t mean he can’t try to fulfill this hunger of yours. Much like filling a better, a taste should be enough to keep you from grumbling. 

Within the week, he has some unlucky Fatui tasked with the mission of cutting a fresh bouquet of the very flowers that you were waxing on about so prettily. And you wake up one morning to find them on the nightstand next to your bed, set in a clear vase.

He thinks that you’ll smile, and thank him, and if all goes well, he won’t have to hear any more not-so-subtle hints about your desire to go outside.

But you don’t smile and fling yourself at his feet, thanking him for such a thoughtful, fine gift. You don’t tell him that this is all you need--the flowers he gifts you, the clothes he has painstakingly crafted to suit our form and above all, him. 

Instead your hand goes to your mouth, covering the smallest of gasps. 

And, well, he thinks--you’re surprised. That’s all. That’s to be expected., if anything. You did often complain about the monotony of your days, so a little surprise was bound to get a reaction from you. 

But instead of breaking into a grin and thanking him, your hand reaches out to touch the delicate blossoms. Like they’re going to break. More than that--like there’s something wrong. 

“How much prettier they would be in nature…” Your lips curve downward, a soft frown that feels aimed right at him. “I’m sorry that you cut them…”

“What is it?” And if there is a snap in his voice,  you surely couldn’t blame him.  You are so difficult to please, and hiding the fact that he wants to please you at all is a tiring chore all on its own. You exhaust him as much as you fill him.

Sometimes, you make him want to scream.

He’ll take out his pent-up irritation on someone else. Irritation that is not at you, but with you. Yet not with you as well. It’s all a jumbled mess that he doesn’t want to untangle, and he won’t. He’ll shove it down deep into some cavernous hole, perhaps the one that exists inside of him no matter how hard he tries, and move on with his day.

If only you would stop looking at those flowers like they were broken glass.

--

You’re gone. The space that you occupy (the left half of the shared bed, all wrapped in blankets and often clutching a pillow instead of him, a trait he does not find endearing but does not wish to push on) is empty, bereft of anything but cool rumpled sheets.

There’s fear, at first. Fear that something has happened. Someone has taken you. Perhaps it was Her… perhaps She, of all the unholy things, has slithered past his defenses and snatched you up just to snap another piece from his broken patchwork body. 

It doesn’t have to be Her, though. He has many enemies. And enemies will target your weakest point, and you, you, you. You are exactly that to him. 

So there is fear, yes, that you have been snatched away and perhaps you are already dead, and they took you not for blackmail but for some kind of revenge. To see him wither. 

But then he retrieves the lantern from the dresser and lights it, the warm glow illuminating the silent, heavy room. He can feel his breath quickening, his chest tightening, and he doesn’t know why or what to do with any of it.

It only gets worse when he realizes that there is no sign of forced entry. No broken door-locks, no sprinkles of glass on the rugs, no drops of blood on the windowsill to mark where you might have been dragged through.

The fear ebbs away, replaced by a sour, sickly feeling of betrayal. 

You’ve left him. After all he’s given you. All he’s done for you. 

Yes, he’s taken away your freedom, but you didn’t have the capacity to understand why that was not something to begrudge him for. Freedom was not for delicate things that needed to be kept alive, protected, harbored from the rest of the world. 

He clutches the lantern in one hand and storms out of the room, still wearing his night-clothes. The hallways are dim, barely light by small windows that let in a trickle of moonlight. He listens. 

You couldn’t have gone far, and you’d better hope he catches you himself before morning, because if he has to engage a search party on  your behalf, no one (least of all the Fatui stationed with him) will be enjoying it.

He dismisses one of the guards who spots him. He doesn’t want them involved, not yet. He pushes out one of the side doors and begins to walk the perimeter of the grounds. You might have gone off into the forest, or perhaps you went down the paved path, hoping to find a traveler who might help you.

He is about to decide which option to take when he hears something from behind him, near a half-broken brick enclosure that had seen better days. Were you hiding in there? Trying to trick him? He couldn’t put it past you. 

He braces himself, feeling something thrum through him that made him want to turn away and rush forward all at once, and walks through the open gate of the enclosure. 

And… you’re there.

Sitting in the midst of a garden, some untended thing that was left here by the previous tenants, before it was abandoned and absorbed into the network of buildings useful to the Fatui. And to him, for keeping you in one secure location for months on end.

It was wild and overgrown, and some of the rocks creating the garden path were moss-covered. It’s a wonder you didn’t slip on them, he thinks, and there’s a flash of fear mingled with his irritation. How could you do something as stupid as sneak outside at night, in the dark, and walk into some unknown, overgrown eyesore? 

You haven’t heard his footsteps, evidently, because you go on standing. You’re swaying a little, and your hands brush the flowers. He can hear you talking to yourself, something low and sweet. He can’t see your face but it’s easy enough to imagine that you’re smiling. 

“What are you doing?” There was an attempt, in his mind, to keep his voice level. But it quakes anyway, with fury and irritation and that still-sour worry that you betrayed him in the night.

He waits. You don’t turn around. He thought that, when you heard his voice, you were going to jump like a scared little animal and apologize and try to smooth things over with your teary lashes and pouting lips.

But you don’t turn around. And when you answer him, it’s not a word, really. It’s mumbling. Low. Almost a groan.

He’s had enough. He walks forward until he can grip your upper arm, and moves to turn you around. But you don’t pout or jerk away or tell him that you just wanted to go outside. You’re looking straight at him but he can tell right away that you don’t truly see him at all.

You’re… asleep. 

Standing up, eyes blinking rapidly as if in the throes of some waking dream, in the middle of a garden.

But asleep, all the same. 

He presses his lips together. You were a nuisance. Truly. He should leave you here, let you wake up in the morning cold and shivering and covered in slick green moss.

Instead, he lifts you up. You flail a little, arms jerking this way and that, but it’s easy enough to grip you close and carry you bridal-style back down the hallway (the Fatui stationed in the hall is wise enough to say absolutely nothing as he sees him returning) and continues until he can lay you gently down onto your side of the bed.

You gasp, then, perhaps half-waking. But it’s eased enough when your hands instinctively grab your pillow and curl up with it. 

Before heading back into bed, he grabs a fire poker and slides it through the handles of your bedroom doorway. You wouldn’t be getting out, not in your sleep, anyway.

His dreams that night are fitful.

--

The first thing you realize upon awakening is that you’d really rather go back to sleep, because your dream was lovely. You were in a garden, fragrant and lovely. There was cool fresh air on your face and grass under your toes and sounds, real sounds. Birds and insects buzzing and everything that is forever kept on the other side of walls and windows now.

Over breakfast, you smile, and serve your husband his dishes before you tuck into your own. And is it wrong that you want to tell him about your dream? Is it wrong that you hope it will make him finally let you go outside, even just for a little while?

“I had a lovely dream last night,” you say, smiling with what you hope is sweetness and not desperation. “I was in a garden…”

You don’t see the goosebumps that run up his arms at your words.

--

You sleepwalk the next night. And the next. And the next. He doesn’t know how you manage to get the bar off the door every time, how you evade the guards, how you don’t wake him up… but you do. 

Always going to the same place, the damned garden, with its stubborn flowers and broken paths.

Well. If one vase of flowers is not enough to keep you satisfied (and more importantly, inside) perhaps he needs to take it a few steps further. 

He gifts you more flowers. Bundles of them, baskets of them, stuffed into vases and pots and cracked pans his underlings found in the kitchen storage room. 

And while the rooms of the manor are soon a garden, filled with cloying blossoms and greenery that brings its fair share of insects lurking about, it doesn’t make you stop talking about the world that you’re supposedly “missing” out there. 

Not just the flowers, but the animals. The people. The markets. 

The life, teeming with every little thing, good and bad, that makes up this world. 

Most disturbingly of all: The sleepwalking continues.

What more can he give you without giving you the freedom that would break him apart?

--

It’s not that the sound of a bird in the morning is unusual. It’s just that they are normally muffled, as there are no trees near the window of the bedroom.

But the chirping that you hear now is so close that it might as well be in your ear. Groggy, rubbing away the dust of sleep in your eyes, you sit up…

And find that there is a silver bird cage sitting on top of your dresser, next to a wilting vase of flowers from a few days before. 

It’s a pretty thing. Small and  yellow. A pretty thing in a pretty cage. Another gift from your husband, after the mountains of flowers, the wreaths of blooming vines, the meals, the clothes, the comfort…

--

He can never get used to waking up without you beside him. No matter how many times he easily finds you and brings you back, mumbling and bleary, there is always those terrible, agonizing moments of panic when he thinks: you’ve left him.

But you’re not alone in the garden. 

You’re holding the cage, clutching it to your chest. He wonders what will happen if your sleeping muscles dream of something else; will you drop the cage and let it clatter to the ground? Will the delicate bird inside be jostled so terribly that it dies? And what would he do, then, to ensure that this doesn’t make you even less satisfied with your isolated life?

But you don’t drop it. One thing he has learned from watching you sleepwalk is that you are surprisingly nimble about it. 

He watches, lips pressed into a frown, as you slowly lower the cage to one of the formerly ornate pedestal tables in the garden. It must have been pretty once. Now, it’s mossy and gray and damp. 

It doesn’t surprise him, what you do next. Your fingers, shaking but surprisingly deft, undo the latch on the door and swing it open. The bird inside hops around for a few moments, tilting its head to and fro, before it launches itself into the air and flies away.

You mumble something, sweet and slurry. A farewell, perhaps. Who knows what really goes on in your pretty head when you sleep? 

And it’s his cue to take you back inside. You still fight, just a little, when he picks you up. Flail your arms and legs, until he’s held you tight enough that your muscles seem to accept the hold and relax.

He looks down at your bleary, half-awake face. Your eyes tend to close when he carries you. Perhaps your body knows that it’s okay to let them rest, now that someone else is carrying you. Holding you. Protecting you.

A pity that your mind couldn’t understand that fact. 

Sometimes he considers chaining you up at night. It would be the most practical solution. It might even ease his fears every time he wakes to find you gone, and he’s forced to track you down to this nighttime garden that no one else would bother entering.

But there’s something in him, hard and sick, that wonders. If he chains you up, he might just free you in his sleep, like you’ve freed the bird in the cage. 

It’s easier to pretend you aren’t his prisoner when your chains are invisible, after all. 

WHAT A PAIN ...

Scaramouche x child!gn!reader

This is strictly platonic !

TW: mention of human experiment, abuse, occ scara

You were one of dottore's experiments.

It isn't really as fun as he promised. Not to mention you were one of his best ones considering you survived most of his tests from ever since you were 6. You tried to run away before but of course he managed to catch you.

But that doesn't mean you wouldn't do it again.

here you are, running non-stop. Trying your best to not to be seen by any one, but your luck isn't really heavenly..

You ended up bumping into the balladeer, what a good day. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in dottore's lap?" He questioned. He actually tried not to scare you but his wish wasn't granted seeing that you tried to scoot away from him. "Uhm...I.." you couldn't form a word by the way he was glaring down at you. "P-PLEASE, DON'T BRING ME BACK THERE, I...I DON'T WANNA!" You didn't have a choice. All you could do is beg and whine for him not to take you back. And that caught him off guard, but again, this is dottore were talking about here, who wouldn't? Back to you, Scaramouche didn't actually know what to do. He may seem like a cruel person but he's been in your place before.. "Sigh, come here" huh..? He wasn't going to send you back? You were certainly confused but anything is better than that cruel place. He managed to sneak you in his office. And now you find yourself sitting by his side while he does paperwork, it is boring just to sit there and see him do work, but you'd rather do that then be used as an experiment again. So you just sat there obediently waiting for him to finish. Scaramouche knew that he had to give you back since dottore held more authority over him, but the way you seemed so scared back there just made him do this without thinking and he didn't seem to mind your company that much, oh how he wanted to take you from him. He'll have to try and ask to tsaritsa later... Wait- why is he thinking like that!? You're just a child who ended up in the fatui's grasp, and he just met you! You're really something, maybe it's something you did to him that made him even take you to his office? Like brainwashing? I mean you are one of dottore's "special" experiments, or- "m-mister? Are you alright?.." a quite voice suddenly took him away from his thoughts "hm? What do you mean?" "Well you s-suddenly starting staring at me, so I thought..uhm.." oh, he was too deep in his thoughts to notice he was staring- well glaring at you. "No, it's nothing. I just spaced out, that's all" now you were scared. Was he thinking about making you his experiment? Or maybe you did something wrong? Negative thoughts filled your head that you started shaking more. Scaramouche noticed that something was wrong. "What's with you? Why are.. crying" you didn't even notice that you were infact crying. The harbinger now thinks HE did something wrong. Maybe, he scared you too much? Archons, he can't believe his doing this.. "t-there, there.." he was petting your hair, trying his best to calm you down. If you told someone that the balladeer, the 6th harbinger would be nervous because of a child, they'll be laughing at your face, but here he is. He himself couldn't believe it, him? Nervous? What a joke. It's not really funny now.. You didn't know if it was right to do this but you were too sad to think about your actions. You jumped on his lap and starting cuddling him... You were showing little to no respect to him right now, but he didn't push you away. He continued petting your head for a while until he realized you were asleep. Archons, now he either have to pick you up or wait for you to wake up. He ended up picking you up to the couch in his office for you to sleep more comfortably, but you didn't want to let him go, you were clinging to him like a koala. So, he didn't have a choice but to cuddle you in the couch. What a pain ...

Hello! I hope this was good (⁠〃ﾟ⁠3ﾟ⁠〃⁠) !! Hope you have a good day <33