Being On A Hot Springs Vacation With Lilia And Malleus Was A Rather Daring Endeavor. (18+, Minors Dni.

Hello! i absolutely love your work <33 can i request sagau scaramouche rates your taste in genshin boys pt 2. with diluc, kaeya and zhongli??

SAGAU SCARAMOUCHE RATES YOUR TASTE IN GENSHIN MEN PT. 2

❀ synopsis: you introduce your friend/unofficial sibling to your lover, what could possibly go wrong? everything...

❀ notes: AJNDJNEHBFH MY FIRST REQUEST!!! thank you so much for the support and reblogs, I'm also very honored you like my writing! here's the first part

❀ pronouns: none specified

Diluc Ragnvindr: 2/10

Diluc is this 🤏 close to receiving a 1/10 if he continues to invade you and Scaramouche's sibling bonding time. Obviously, the two don't get along (and will probably never get along) due to Diluc's past and Scara's trust issues, the two argue a lot about you while you're just there vibing with the lamp grass unaware of the commotion.

He's heard of it all, the youngest Cavalry Captain who left the Knights to pursue Monstadt's enemies alone. He'd sometimes use his knowledge of Diluc's past to provoke him, and boy does it provoke him. The two went into a full-blown fistfight at one point, with the occasional use of a vision since their weapons have been thrown aside by the other.

Scaramouche is clingy to the ones who stay by his side, and Diluc is protective of the ones he loves, so you can imagine what it was like when Diluc saw you walking along with Scaramouche (who Diluc knows as the Balladeer, the 6th harbinger of the Fatui) when you told him that you would be introducing a very close friend of yours. It started with Diluc carrying you on his shoulder and running away, with a wild Scaramouche on his tail. And ended with Diluc being treated by Barbara and Scaramouche being treated by Nahida.

You really have to manage your time here, the two won't ever get along and if you spend more time with the other, the one you didn't spend time with will go visit the other and start demanding that they leave you alone. Diluc would wonder how you could ever tolerate and even care for Scaramouche, whatever your reason is he wouldn't be able to understand. Scaramouche would ask when will you break up with Diluc, and would pout if you reply that you wouldn't break up with him.

Kaeya: 3/10

Just right next to Venti, and he would soon be ranked right next to his brother if Kaeya doesn't learn to shut the fuck up-

Arrogant, lazy, and a teasing prick. How many more traits can Kaeya have to piss people off? Scaramouche already looks down on humans, and seeing Kaeya with you disgusts him as he believes you deserve so much better. their first impressions of each other were bad, you can feel the tension in the air when the two just stood there with fake smiles.

He hates it when Kaeya tags along in your travels, even insisting on helping the both of you with your journeys when he has free time. Scaramouche would make a passive-aggressive comment on how the two of you don't need his help, and that you are both capable of defending each other. if you agreed to Kaeya joining Scaramouche would be appalled, before turning around so no one can see the expression on his face. Why did you agree??

The two are in a contest with how much they're provoking each other. If the other one breaks and lash out, the one who didn't wins. Their words to each other are sharp, and even when they're having a decent conversation with the other it's only when you're around, and even then it has slight undertones and hidden threats. Good lord, I hope you have a lot of patience.

Zhongli/Rex Lapis/Morax: 4/10

You know that situation where someone's little sister is dating a boy and the big brother tries to be intimidating but the boy she's dating is taller and stronger than the big brother. Yeah that's the situation Scaramouche is in, but you are not a little girl nor is Zhongli just a human boy.

He's very annoyed with the situation, he's supposed to be the reliable one! What is this skyscraper of a man doing here?! Ngl he might be a tad bit insecure with the situation and would be at arm's length around you the entire time Zhongli was around the both of you. After the first few weeks of introducing him to Zhongli Scaramouche would notice just how pathetic this man is for you, and would find it amusing to watch.

Though it would soon turn to annoyance when Zhongli slowly starts dedicating all his time to you and going as far as to do his paperwork right next to you. This pet of yours is slowly turning into a pest, and he wants to get rid of it immediately. Zhongli would notice how Scaramouche is excluding him from your travels and would confront him about it in private. After the confrontation the atmosphere between the two became suffocating.

The only thing holding back Zhongli from throwing an entire mountain at the child was the fact that you and Scaramouche have a bond similar to siblings. The two of you insult each other but it never held any sort of ill-intent, and you both travel together frequently. Zhongli would rather die than be hated by you, and killing/hurting Scaramouche is a one-way ticket to being hated. So for now, he would just try to spend as much time with you, even if it means being next to the purple haired brat.

Hey Lorkai,

Can I request a phoenix Yuu/Reader with a yandere malleus or Lillia. With a bit of angst where a phoenix is basically indistinguishable from a human until they die for the first time.

Btw I really love your writing, it’s amazing

(can I be 🐦‍⬛anon?)

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟa/n: awww thank you, darling, I'm glad you like my works 🥺. And yes, you can be 🐦‍⬛ anon!!!!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟLilia’s fascination with you begins innocently enough — your humor, your warmth, and the strange way you seem to carry yourself as if you've lived for centuries, as if day counted more than the last. But that fascination twists into obsession when he discovers the truth. The first time you die, he’s devastated, grief-stricken to the point of madness, only to witness you rise again, glowing with an otherworldly fire, same face, so soft to the touch, same smile, so innocent and awkward because how do you explain that you are a phoenix?

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟHis relief turns to possessive adoration; you’re not just special — you’re eternal, his eternal little bird. He becomes utterly consumed by the idea that no one else deserves to witness your rebirth, to even know what you are. The thought of you dying again, even temporarily, fills him with dread and rage, and he swears to protect you at all costs. Yet, there’s a part of him that fears: what if one day, after rising from the ashes, you decide not to return to him? What if you forget all about him? So many what ifs...

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟHis doting nature becomes suffocating, his tender words laced with the underlying threat of what he might do to keep you by his side. He marvels at your strength but refuses to see you as anything other than fragile, mortal in all the ways that matter to him. He hovers close, constantly watching, endlessly reminding you that no one else could ever cherish your true self as he does. And though you try to assert your independence, his gaze — heavy with love and an unspoken warning — always pulls you back. After all, what’s one lifetime of freedom to a phoenix when eternity waits for you in his arms? Maybe both of you were meant to be.

“Kuni, let me sleep in for just a bit longer. Let me be lazy, just for today?” for Scaramouche?

"Hah, are you trying to shamelessly schmooze up to me? Well, it won't work this time— hey!"

With a not-so-gentle tug, you successfully pull him down into the bed with you. At first, it’s an awkward tumble of limbs trying to regain purchase, but eventually, the struggle ceases. He could very easily pry you from his person and hurl you elsewhere, which is why his reliance on halfhearted complaints instead doesn’t deter you. 

Scaramouche lets out an unnecessarily loud sigh. “Whatever, have it your way. You humans are so needy. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today, otherwise, I wouldn’t entertain your antics.” 

He says that as if he isn’t settling his hands on your waist and getting you into a position he likes. You force yourself to endure it, the unnatural coldness of his touch, the claustrophobic sensation that arises whenever he’s close. You’re brought all the more closer when he presses the side of your face against his chest. 

“Wouldn’t you say this is a display of neediness?” 

Further solidifying your point is how he starts running his hands up and down your back while the question is posed. He pauses his ministrations once the words leave your mouth, and although you can’t see his face from this position, you can clearly imagine his frown. 

“Impudence sure is your forte. You said you wanted to sleep, or is your memory that terrible? I’m simply lending my assistance. You’d be extra annoying to deal with if you’re sleep deprived,” he gives a sardonic chuckle that nobody asked for. Is he capable of non-derisive laughter? 

“I learned from the best,” is all you care to mumble, his presence sapping your energy more than any sleepless night could. “Be a good pillow for me. I’ll let you hold me more often if you are.” 

“... Whatever.” 

It’s difficult to take his supposed disinterest seriously when he accompanies it by resting his chin atop your head. 

Expedient. Yan Scaramouche x F Reader

Warnings: Yandere themes and unhealthy relationships. Word count: 1.8k. 

Scaramouche had recently come to a conclusion.

He’s poured over many forbidden and esoteric texts — scrolls, grimoires, firsthand diaries from blasphemers wiped clean from history — some of which were hidden behind cryptograms so complex it took months to decipher. Occult workings that would’ve driven any man to the brink of insanity should they have comprehended half of it. The power in these tomes could make even a god shudder, fearful over what might occur should it fall into the wrong hands. Hands like his.

Still, none of the diabolical diagrams and rituals preserved dutifully through generations come close to the powerful spell you have him under.

Keep reading

Summary: Dottore had always been impressed and interested in the making of puppets, with Scaramouche at his disposal he could finally dive into the topic and create a prototype of his own..

Pairings: Scaramouche/Balladeer x puppet!reader

Notes/Warnings: Reader is completely gender neutral and has no pronouns beyond "you"! POC friendly! Reader is said to have long indigo hair, but is not physically described beyond that!

When Dottore brought up the idea of creating a puppet as an experiment by following his design Scaramouche had said he didn't care what he did in his free time, but he truly did. Knowing first hand what it was like to be created as an experiment or to satisfy someone's curiousity, it was hard not to care even if he didn't want to. Especially when the Doctor had said that you would be created by "following his design".

It was dysphoric to live in a world full of humans that looked and talked exactly like you, but were so incredibly different from you. Humans who if they found out the truth would betray and fear you - not that he cared about anything like that anymore. But you likely would. You would have to go through that as well, if the Doctor didn't simply dispose of you after he was done tinkering...

Scaramouche had said he didn't care, but would occasionally he would go out of his way to deliver something to his corner at the palace to see his progress. Dottore knew immediately and would always have a smirk on his face when the Balladeer appeared to deliver something. He would love to poke fun at him, but he didn't. He would simply give some insight or details about his progress without acknowledging what they both knew to be true.

The Doctor was successful in creating you and giving you life, while you were made following his design you didn't exactly resemble him. There were some details and personality traits he could connect between you, well more like traits he had when he was still just Kabukimono - but at the same time you were very different from him too. Dottore had clearly had some creative freedom in what he made you look like, but the long indigo hair you had was clearly made to resemble his.

It was eerie looking at you as you reminded him so much of his past. You were always quietly observing everything around you with curious eyes, you tried so desperately to not be a burden to anyone. He hated your doe like eyes that would look his way occasionally, they were filled with so much innocence it was almost disgusting to him. Technically you were still in your infancy, just in a grown body.

In the end Dottore didn't much care for you or even need you. Creating you was a simple act of curiosity - to truly understand this delicate act of creating artificial life. Once his curiosity had been sated, he simply moved onto other things and never thought much of you or your presence beside him or away from him.

It was actually the Tsaritsa that gave you freedom and a name. While she wouldn't involve herself in matters conserning the Harbingers free time or personal life, she made an exception for you. To her you were alive and thus deserved to live like it, with your own room and own name - free to do whatever you wished. But truthfully you didn't know how or what to do with such freedom. Unlike Scaramouche you didn't have a purpose before or after creation, so you didn't have anything to strive for.

You weren't like humans, you couldn't have a normal life where you eventually grow old. You could potentially live till the end of time and it left you hollow. Longing for something you couldn't quite grasp, something like a purpose.

You stood barefoot in the pure white snow, your head tilted upwards towards the grey winter sky. The cold didn't bother you, you couldn't even truly feel it. The snow flakes raining down the sky fell against your face, but didn't melt when landing on your face. After all... you weren't a human. You didn't produce warmth that would cause them to melt away, you couldn't stay out too long to prevent you from being buried in snow. Perhaps it had been a joke, but you still followed the suggestion.

Scaramouche watched from the sidelines as you stood still enjoying the pure snowfall. He didn't know why he didn't just leave to do what he was supposed to, perhaps he was curious. His feelings and relationship with you were complicated to say the least. He wasn't your creator like Ei was his, but he felt some sort of connection to you. He didn't necessarily want to feel connected with you, but he did.

He hated that a small part of him was curious about you, of what you were like. If he could possibly relate to you or if he would form a connection with you if he were to approach you. Even if you were technically his kin, he knew it didn't mean anything as in the end even Ei had betrayed and forsaken him - who was to say you wouldn't do so as well?

You both knew he was there watching you, he often was. You never acknowledged him as he seemed to not want to interact with you. You did know of your connection, you would silently and carefully go through the Doctor's projects and had come across the plans that he used to create you. You longed to connect with him knowing he was possibly the only being you could ever relate to, but he refused to come close to you.

Unbeknownst to you he was actually quite protective of you. He had once heard some fatui members talking about you in a rather provocative way and it didn't sit right with him, he couldn't ignore it no matter how hard he tried. He didn't kill the morons, but he did make sure they'd never utter another word about you or to you. He didn't need to warn anyone else as the word spread around quite quick.

He would face stupid comments from the people he was supposed to acknowledge as colleagues, but he didn't respond to them. The next day he found you standing behind his door with a gentle smile and a nod. He had never seen you smile before, or been this close to you - his chest filled with unexpected warmth from the small interaction... You said nothing before leaving him standing puzzled in his doorway. You didn't need to say anything for him to understand what you meant. That was the beauty of your connection, you could understand each other so easily without the traditional need to say anything.

He later wandered out to the courtyard out of instinct and found you there once again gazing at the sky. This time though, he couldn't help but approach you. He didn't even know why or what he was going to say or do, but he still kept going. His steps caused the snow to crunch beneath his feet, alerting you to him. You curiously turned around to watch as he approached...

A/N: Not proofread lol

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Was listening some horror stories while I finished some projects then got inspired by it and wrote this. Hope u guys like it <3

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Platonic yandere content, kidnapping, murder. Probably typos too.

"Nuh-uh, dad!" You looked at the book Lilia carried with him. He had read this book for you a thousand times and a pout formed on your lips, already thinking how you would have to bear this torture again.

There was nothing wrong with the stories, per say. But they get a little old and boring when you had heard them this many times. And Lilia was quite forgetful so asking him to buy other books wasn't always a successful endeavor. Though when you asked him to create a story he told you he wans't creative enough either. You aren't having any of that. You were tired of hearing about snow white, rapunzel, ugly duckling and all the classics. You wanted something new and today you would have it.

"Tell me another story, please!" You asked, making your best puppy eyes at him. Those eyes worked on Silver and Sebek, so you wanted to try on him as well. His reaction was different from the one you were expecting though, Lilia smiled and patted your head.

You loved having him read to you - it was your favorite activity to bond with your father, where you solved mysteries with him and laughed at silly pickup lines, but Lilia was still fond of the classics. There was though another book, called The General Tales. The author was unknown and the cover was painted a dark red, it was strange. And you hadn't the chance to read it because your father was very conscious about it, hiding when you so much as glanced in its direction.

You could only suppose it was a horror book. But you were already quite grown up. You were almost 13 years old! You could sit through any story he read without having nightmares! He didn't seem to agree.

"What am I going to do with you, little batty?" Lilia mused to himself when you showed the book. There was an excited glee in his eyes whenever he looked at it, as if it contained his favorite memories; little did you know what was written on those pages and how much blood they had seen. How much blood Lilia used to write those same pages.

He smiled finally. Dangerously, like he did when you pranked him and he was plotting his revenge.

You make space in your bed for him to sit beside you and he opened those secret pages you had always wondered about. They were yellowed by the time and some were dog eared, written in a beautiful yet hushed cursive. You were fascinated.

Lilia waited till you made yourself comfortable, laying your head against his chest and body nestled into his side, so he turned some pages, humming to himself. You could only think what kind of story would he read to you. You could only hope it was scary. It wans't night time yet and even if you got scared then surely at night, when he put you to bed, you would have already forgotten all the gorey details. Right...?

"There was a couple who lived happily at the woods," Lilia's deep voice started its tale and you closed your eyes to fully immerse yourself in your imaginnation as you listened to him. "but then a plague started to poison the soil and their crops were destroyed. The walk to the nearest village used to take a whole day to go and another to come back. The husband tried to hunt animals to feed his lover and their one year old child but he failed each and every time. Without other options he started traveling to this village."

"Wait, what about the plague?" You asked fulled with curiosity. Then you through to yourself why they didn't tried to make it go away somehow.

Either they tried and didn't worked. Or they didn't even thought about it. Nonetheless, you brushed it off as they don't having this knowledgment. But this bugged you for a second. Humans and faes knew about plagues and how to get rid of them, they been doing this since they were brought to existence.

Your question made Lilia smile cheerfully, you observed. He must be proud of you for asking this, as he had homeschooled you and used to brag about how smart you was to anyone who wanted to listen - he'd brag even if they didn't want to hear. "Ah, you see, they were bad people. The soil knew this and rejected them, my dear."

Well... Growing in Briar Valley you knew this was probable to happen. Fae were internally linked to their florests and woods, and rivers and oceans, and everything nature could touch. That was also why Lilia raised both you and your older brother, Silver, in the woods. He used to take both of you to fish, and swim and watch the dawn all the time. Though time changed and life got busier, maybe you ask him to take you fishing again someday. Or to go camping somewhere.

"Makes sense, what happened to them then?"

"The man bought everything he needed, every last golden coin spent. But he had food for months to come, he was already imagining what his wife would cook on the way back when an incident happened."

Lilia turned the page and you could see a little drawing of a man horse riding into the horizon. Then he started reading again after taking in your expressions.

"A stag came running at him, the horse didn't react at time and both animals collided. Wounded, the animal couldn't walk and neither could the man who had fallen and sprained his ankle. Snow was falling, surrounding him like a veil, all the food he brought with their remaining gains lost there. He thought to himself 'I'm going to die certainly', rejected he was once, rejected he was at that moment. Lost and in pain, feeling miserable, he tried to stand but failed. Every attempt more painful than the other. A river was falling from his eyes when he finally gave up."

Your heart ached at this. But you hoped for the better. Freezing and being left hungry during winter sounded like hell. Lilia pinched your cheek when he noticed you frowning. He laughed at the face you make at him, annoyed at your father's antics.

Lilia smiled. "Nope. Nope, instead he had heard a voice from the woods, a hooded figure was suddenly standing in front of him. He could only see the figure's blood red eyes."

"Oh no, did he die?"

You looked at your father. "Your eyes are red!"

Lilia nodded, his leg bouncing with how excited he was from reading this story. "Do you think the hooded figure was me?"

"Well, it was?" You replied with another ask. Your father didn't respond.

Instead he continued reading. "If I save you, what can you get me in return? The hooded figure asked, crouching to be on the man height. Their touch was tender as they wiped his tears and looked at him, but there was something in them that make him tremble more than snow could. There was something truly evil behind those eyes, something terrible behind that smile. The man didn't answer nor said anything for various minutes. Though for him, hours seemed to have passed. Maybe even years as he looked at those eyes."

"Nah, I didn't think it was you," You thought out loud. "Your eyes are very beautiful and gentle."

Returning your little compliment, Lilia squeezed you in a side hug while laughing. "Oh, thank you sugar. Your eyes are beautiful too."

"But they aren't red as yours." You pouted.

"You wanted them to be?" You nodded. Nor you or Silver have his red eyes. But you wish you had. His eyes were unique, were cute but also intimidating. So intimidating when he wanted them to be that you were imagining that the hooded figure had those same eyes.

You both stayed in that hug before you remind him to read again. There were fewer pages to go now. And again there was a drawing, this time you could see the man with that figure chatting while snow pilled beside them, as if the cold didn't bothered them. Then on another page he stood up and a carriage had appeared, he held the wet food in his arms, saving whatever it was possible to save. He would go back home to his family.

But at what price? It wans't written. The author had keeped too vague.

"When he arrived home, with a new horse and a carriage, which the hooded figure told him to sell for its quality was impressive and he would gain even more gold than he had spended, he was his child running at him, happy that their, uh, father had finally returned. The entire time though, the man could still feel the figure's eyes on him, could see those eyes in his mind. But he pushed those thoughts out of his mind, held his child and whirled around with them to they laughed. He watched them disappear back inside when they got too cold. And then he explained what had happened to his wife, she deserved to know."

He explained this incident with the stag, about the hooded figure and the deal he made with it. And very lowly he whispered how he wouldn't follow his part of the deal - and lying to a fae is something one must never do. Something he shouldn't have done. But he did. And that's the soil reject them even more.

Beneath the earth it was possible to feel the tremors or the wind that pushed everything out of its way. Lilia read how the man dealed with each and every tribulation, how he passed the trials and went his way around the deal, doind the bare minimum to ensure only his and his family safety. He only forgotten that the figure could see him.

"Then one night the hooded figure came to pay him a visit. It knocked on the door and it smiled when it saw the wife holding her child, looking at it with clear fear in her eyes. Like her husband, the wife was trembling in its presence. She let it enter, if anything because she couldn't send him away, she didn't know with what she was dealing, she couldn't act wrong and jeopardize her child safety. Instead she played the role of a welcoming hostess."

Lilia paused a second to breathe then he smiled as if he too was imagining what happened next. Pressed against him you were still. Were it going to kill everyone?

"Please, you may sit here. Do you want to eat something or perhaps are you thirsty? She asked. The air around them was tense. Though her child was poking the stranger without fear, filled with innocent curiosity. The figure picked the child and looked at their eyes. A carnivorous smiled streched on it's face. 'This will be not necessary' the figure said.'"

Another dramatic pause. It was so silent you could hear the birds flying from a considerate distance. It was so silent that you could focus on the blood flowing on your veins. You were anxious to know what happened next. And your father seemed to take fun on this, delaying his narrative to look at the drawing of the figure and the child. This one was colored and you noticed that the child looked just like you. Same hairstyle and same color eye, even same skin color.

You didn't know how to feel about it. You was thinking about what the figure would do to that child. Coming from a horror book you had only one guess. Lilia though didn't share your apprehension as he started narrating again.

"'Call your husband and let's eat. Together. No lies this time or this cutie will pay the price.' The figure warned her. But it know what was fated to happen. The couple were liars and no good persons. Of course they were going to lie. When everyone was seated to eat, the wife served first her guest then her husband then her child and finally herself; though the figure was still holding the child. The wife looked like she wanted to ask something but held her tongue."

Lilia licked his fingers and turned the page. Your heart breaked at the drawing. It seemed painful and explicit but you keeped yourself from looking away, you asked for him to read and you wanted to hear and see everything.

"'Open wide, little one.' The figure told the child, holding Its own spoon of soup to feed the baby. The mother seemed alarmed by it as if she had just done something stupid. And she did, poisoned the figure's spoon and plate, and food too. She held its hand and looked at it with pleading eyes. She fell to her knees, afraid for her child's life and security, stuttering and mumbling. 'please, don't.' she asked it. And a laughed escaped the hooded figure's lips, so sweet, so dangerous, he looked at the child who made grabby hands at the food. 'I said no lies yet you lied to me, tried to deceit me when I've been nothing if good for the both of you. And what did I asked in return? Say it, word by word, to her, mighty husband.' The wife looked at her husband."

"But it was so vague... Dad, what did it said?" At this your father patted your hair, twirling his fingers in your hair to distract you. He almost never replied to you in these moments, wanting you to draw your own conclusions. Still you wished he answered you on this matter. You were too curious and inquisitive.

"'I want you to restore the crops with this insecticide I'm giving you, I want you to make house for the birds and for you to clean the rivers when they thaw. And... And I want your first-born, f-for them to take your place, a-a life for a lif...' The husband answered, without finding his wife's eyes. Though he didn't looked at her, he knew how the color vanished from her face and how she was stunned into silence. He had never mentioned the part where the figure wanted their child, had he done that she would killed him herself. Her pregnancy was problematic and painful but she was so happy that her child was here now, she was delighted to her their little laugh and see them starting to walk and talk. And he stole all this from her."

You gripped your father's arm, you aren't expecting this betrayal. You expected the hooded figure to be the killer who would slaughter everyone and then dance upon their corpses. But there was something intimately sad knowing that someone so close as a father to his own child, could be a liar. You felt a bad taste on your tongue. Though part of you was excited to see where things were going now. Would be possible for this story to have a happily after all? Part of you didn't know but you hoped so.

"'You lied to me? About this?' The poor wife was inconsolable, struggling even to stand still as her whole face burned with ire. She knew nothing could be done. Maybe it was her own fear, maybe it was the figure's presence who seemed to feed into her negative feelings, the next second she threw herself on top of her husband punching and screaming at him. Her chair had fallen to the ground with her plate, food flying everywhere. The hooded figure sighed but tucked the child's face in his neck for them to not see this. The couple flighted like two angry kittens, disjointed, clumsy, without really knowing where to hit to hurt more. It was pitiful to watch. It hummed while the scene unfolded before its eyes. They fought and screamed but the figure still soothed the scared child who gripped its clothes hard. It prevent them from turning around, holding them tightly against it. 'Just a second, little one.' it told them."

A knife fell from the table when the husband managed to kick his wife off him. She hitted her back at the wooded table's leg but took the knife and looked at him with bloodthirsty eyes. She tried to stab him but he dodge and evaded every attack, he laughed at it. And she was feeling angry, so angry she'd die if she could kill him and then the entity who watched them in silence. "I hate you. You ruined everything. You couldn't even do a thing right!"

Her words were words of a frightened woman and, above all, a mom who knew she had lost her child. The precious child who bringed so much life and happiness into her life. You felt sad at this. They were both bad. The husband for making the deal and then not following it, and the wife for trying to poison the hooded figure without trying to ask what it wanted. You wonder if things would have ended differently if they didn't lie.

"The husband could only smile and roll his eyes at this. Nothing he could say was going to be enough, nothing he could say was going to comfort her or save them from their demise. The fight ended when he twisted her own arm and stabbed her with the knife, twisting. She fell on the ground painfully, blood painting the carpet. The last thing she saw was her child sleeping on that creature's arms."

You sniffled, trying to stifle your cry so not get attention of your father. But he was perceptive, always was. He could know what you were doing even if he wasn't in the same room you were. It was a dad instinct kinda of thing, you thought once.

Lilia patted your head, letting you feel what you were feeling without commenting on the small tears that rolled down your chest or tease you. He had told you and Silver multiple times to not be ashamed to cry or feel freely, to not repress your emotions. And you weren't ashamed by it. But you did thought you were overreacting a little. It was just a story after all!

"The now armed man swinged at the hooded figure, tears falling from his eyes the same way they have fallen weeks before. This time though he had an ever more serious reason to cry, he had killed his wife. He lost the one he loved it and it was all that hooded figure fault. Or so he said to himself, still lying. Fighting though was futile, his effort was futile, he was no match for the figure, so agile and fast, even if it was holding a sleepy baby on its arms, it still could fight with ease as if battle and fight were it's old friends. It killed the man easily, with a swing of it's hands and a little magic, the man joined his wife in the afterlife where she would want him down eternally."

You jumped a little when he closed the book, looking at him in disbelief. The tears had dried on your eyes but they were still a little red from crying. "That's how it ends?"

Lilia nodded then added. "Though there's still a line. It goes like: the entity looked at the child affectionately, it had what it wanted, it had the child. The hooded figure finally lowered the hood from its face, revealing its young and yet deceitful appearance. It was a he and he looked at the child gently. 'I'm going to call you Yuu. Fufufu, how does that sound, Yuu?'"

You whined in surprise. It was your name! You liked to think that your name was unique and no one else had it, just so you could feel a little special, but at that moment you didn't know how you felt. There were so many plot twists in that story, your mind seemed to run a marathon by how hard you were thinking about everything. Only thing you could muster was. "They were dumbing, lying to a fae."

Though you wonder... Why there was a drawing of a child so similar to you and that also has your name? You searched for you father's eyes and found him him staring at you. But he wasn't staring how he used to stare, it was mischievous, evil. Dangerous. You found out that you couldn't move, paralyzed in fear while his eyes searched for something inside your soul. Whatever it was he seemed happy, his gaze softening as the minutes passed, his headpats returning slowly.

"How does tea sounds, little one?" He asked. It sounded like death coming from him, Lilia managed to even burn the water. You mumbled something, too busy thinking about the story to care that you were about to be poisoned by Lilia's tea. There was many puzzle pieces missing for you to complete the entire frame.

Maybe someday, Lilia thought with a smug smile.

Charisma Etched on Strings

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

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

Gn! reader x Electric guitarist!Scaramouche

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

Warning: Slight cursing

It was supposed to be a harmless guitar lesson.

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

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

You want nothing to do with this. 

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

Lies. 

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

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

A sweet, sweet treat for his ears. 

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

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

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

You'll definitely punch him after this. 

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

You've certainly had enough. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course not! Why would I be!?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'll be sure to catch you"

How do the different yanderes "love" you? (plus some tropes(??) i feel like would fit them)

this was honeslty just practice, and it ended up turning into smt kinda decent, i dont love what ive written but i just needed to get our smt

i blame @fatuismooches for being lovely and having such good harbinger thoughts that they've taken over my mind (fuck you[said with affection])

Yandere! Childe, Scaramouche, Dottore(separate) x gn reader

Childe ("soft and sweet" x unloving and hates touch)

He just spoils you left and right, he feels a little bad when he sees the uncomfortable look in your eyes when he kisses you all over, or when he touches you too much. so he has chosen to spoil you rotten until you finally fall for him, or at least see the way he can take care of you and finally kiss him back.

[He loves you, and that should be known by now, so why do you force his hands to do this, "why cant you just love him like he is", those were the last words you heard before he brought something to your lips and made you drink something unknown]

You are incredibly lucky that the 11th Harbinger is this patient with you, but dont push it too much, he can go to more bloody measures of getting you to fall for him if he sees it's needed. dont worry he wont hurt you too much, he loves you too much to do that, but love is complicated and you cant always control whom you fall in love with, so just love him will you, darling?

after all he knows the aphrodisiac he gave you wont last forever, so it would be better to just fall for him manually, right?

Scaramouche (manipulative, powerful x easily manipulated, weak[...i didnt know what to do here lol])

He might seem like he doesn't love at all, but when you aren't being dragged around to missions and meetings, and all alone with him in your shared chambers, he loves to just hug you, maybe litter kisses on your neck and collarbone. you hated it at first, and you still kind of do, but you've long since gotten used to it all.

He show his love for you when he has his hands all over your body as you dress into the clothes he picked out for you. he cant keep himself off of your lovely body, but would kill if anyone even touch a strand of your hair.

But oh how could you try 'nd leave when this weak little puppet is crying in your arms every night, when he has nightmares about you leaving him, dying when he can't be there to protect you... oh how foolish you are, how stupid you must be to fall for such things, as he has long since abandoned the idea of ever letting go of you.

And he'll make sure you dont let go of him either, because you need him. after all he was the one to save you from danger when you were stupid enough to walk too far into a hilichurl camp. you need protection, and he's rgith here willing to give it for "free".

Dottore (crazy scientist and his crazy lover[aka yandere x yandere but worse])

You lvoe each other in ways normal human minds wouldn't dream of ever understanding. he smiled when you gave him a dead body for experimenting, and the worst part? you had the biggest grin on your face, and a massive amount of blood on your hands and clothes, much to the dismay of many onlookers.

And then there's the fact that neither of you even spare a glance at the amount of blood on the others' clothes, or at least it looks like you don't. but when you are in the privacy of your shared bedroom (though filled with dead onlookers in the closet) you reward each other for getting rid of anyone who dares to interrupt, or archons forbid break, the love you two have.

It has been made a daily occurrence for you both to randomly disappear from the building with a fatui agent, who had taken too much attention from the other, and then come back alone with bloodied hands, and being greeted by a two-minute-long kiss when opening the lap doors again.

just two crazy maniacs in love, awwww (if they arent wanted in at least 6 nations they need to be)

thx for reading whatever this is, luv ya -Masterlist

You are welcome to reblog and like any of my posts, but you CAN NOT translate, copy or hate on anybody for liking my posts

currently thinking about 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘥! 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦 and his endless vanity.

𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘥! 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦 who is revered as the lotus-eyed, twice-born born and golden-sighted. all who look at him are mesmerized, and none are those who can afford to resist his endless charm. the very epitome of beauty in masculine vessels, he defines the perfect balance of yin and yang—being as ethereal as they come, and twice as wise.

𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘥! 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦 who puts up the pretense that he never quite feels the need to be worshipped so, being as modest as possible. yet internally, it is through lotus offerings, garlands of roses and lamps and lanterns blue and white that he truly measures his importance in the eyes of the man. the easiest god to please or upset, the lothd eyed god has few vices he does not know to erase. hence is the reason he is revered by all, the kind hearted god.

𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘥! 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦 who takes great pride in the lonesome shrine dedicated to the 'god of all ancient wisdom', and enjoys flittering around in the forests and lakes that surround his shrine from all sides. quiet whispers often go ignored by him, benevolent in godhood as he already is. there's a saying—if you ever spot a purple-haired being with lotuses in his hands and gold on his neck, then be sure to quieten your steps and softly whisper his name. though he won't respond, his gaze will certainly fall upon you. while he doesn't entirely agree with this, he still arguably enjoys the attention this saying gathers him.

𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘥! 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦— and his infatuation when his gaze lands upon you, standing amidst the maidens with gold offerings in your hand as you stared at him through plenilune eyes, your gaze holding wondrous awe. he can't speak, can't avert his gaze, nor can you and both are quite understandable in their place. after all, for a god, occasions of 'love' are few and far between, and even more so with mortals.

𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘥! 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦 who always keeps an eye on all his followers. especially, you, of plenilune gaze and ethereal essence. he loves being pampered in general, always sitting patiently whenever he enters the shrine and the maidens sit him on golden stands and bathe him in flowers.

𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘥! 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦 and the way his gaze pins upon you as you move through the forest, navigating around to reach the lake of lotuses. who knows very well that this is the first time you have left to get lotuses on your own, a cruel order of the head priestess who was upset about his disregard for the prayers of the others. and while he is willing to be more benevolent next time, he ensures to cut down excess bushes and lead you right to the lake, almost confusing as to how easy it was to reach the lake.

𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘥! 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦 who can't help but turn red yet watch helplessly as you slightly lift your waist cloth, revealing the soft skin of your waist, pulling the dagger out and walk slowly into the waters, cutting freshly bloomed lotuses from the water. but his gaze remains pinned to your form regardless, unable to watch anything or anyone except you.

𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘥! 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦 develops a tiny bias towards your prayers then on, always listening a bit keener to them. who can't help but create a situation such that all priestesses leave to attend to the royal family and their transgressions and you're left to look after the shrine. and then he comes in all graces, dressed in gold pieces and pearls white, ethereal looking when your gazes meet.

𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘥! 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦 who laughs slightly when you immediately bow and call him by all his hundred names, amused by your devotion. who desires to speak softly with you, leaving you spellbound with his quiet melody in speech. he is a bit biased you see— it's rare, after all, to see the god being vain but anything other than himself.

𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘥! 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦 and his expectation of finding you at the lake of lotuses every day, getting disappointed should you ever switch duties with anyone. he doesn't give up though. he has his ways, and you can't really escape him if he shows up at the shrine, himself after all. he just ensures to bite back the smile that forms on his features when you place the lotuses on his feet and light his sandalwood incense.

𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘥! 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦 being infatuated with your delightfully mortal charm and the fleeting sense of forbiddenness that you bring. gods and mortals do not mix well—he knows and he also knows that you know too, but it's hard for both to resist when either looks so supple and lovely.

𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘥! 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦 and his love for you, his favourite devotee.

thundersoother

(when lightning strikes, nothing can stop it.)

word count: 233

trigger warning: none

note: afab character, platonic scaramouche / wanderer, can be interpreted as reader or oc

part two (send me an ask to be tagged!)

It was long ago when he last stepped in the nation he once called home - the nation that was once supposed to be under his rule.

He remembered admiring the mighty Mount Yougou from afar. Wondering if the pink petals of the sacred sakura tree were as soft as the veil he wore.

The first time he saw it up-close was now, and although the full moon above it made for a glorious sight, he did not come here for the view.

"The time has finally come," his words are haughty in its delivery, overflowing with pride, "I've made you wait long enough, haven't I?"

Only silence followed his words. The figure under the tree remained still, her back to him, as if deaf to all the sounds around her.

Somewhat irked, he called once more, "oh, dear sister, are you angry at me?"

And her answer was voiced, near as cold as her cryo Vision.

"You are not welcome here, Balladeer."

The blue gem glinted coldly, contrasting the searing heat that simmered in his chest. Her body shifted gently like branches against the wind, and he expected her to show the same stoicity she always had; one of the many things that reminded him of their mother.

When she turned, however, her visage showed anything but.

"Not anymore."

The despicable human feeling returned, and he will rid of it no matter the cost.

part two

she-on, 10:57 PM, 12/12/2022