Pacing Game [Yandere Scaramouche X Reader]

Love that Beat Vanity

Scaramouche/GN! Reader - Forced Established Marriage

TW: Domestic Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Verbal Abuse

A/N: HELLO! Thank you for reading my goofy little oneshots once again. I've decided to have every Scaramouche fics I write on this acc to have some kind of continuation. So, if you have read my previous works, the reader's lore will be the same throughout this series. But you don't have to read the previous works to catch up with the story since I wrote it as oneshots, scenarios and whatnot.

If you choose not to read the previous works, Reader was an orphan who survived stealing from people but stole from the wrong person one time and was taken and placed in a human trafficking ring, Scaramouche bought her to work at for the Fatui and the rest is history.

-----

It has been 5 years since Scaramouche has taken you as his spouse. You have still not adapted well into this new "domestic" life that was forced onto you by your husband. The lessons you have to keep taking because you can't make yourself to remember it all, has started to take a toll on your body.

Sleep has been difficult to achieved, it might be near impossible as your husband demands for the two of you to sleep together in the same bed, as husband and spouse. But try as you might to close your eyes, the moment you feel his arms snake around your waist, you freeze up like a statue and not sleep until you pass out from exhaustion. However, when you wake up from fainting, you'll feel the blanket placed properly on top of you, the bed side where your husband would always lay on, cold.

You have no doubt that Scaramouche loves you, too much in fact.

Early in the morning, he would leave you in bed and attend to his harbinger duties. Not a single item of his was ever misplaced whenever he fixes himself up. His sakura blossom perfume would always be placed in it proper spot and his brush to add the rouge over his eyelids were clean from any color, as if it was never even used.

Tidiness can't be said the same to your vanity table. Although you rarely use the furniture as it was intended, you do use it as something to leave the fabrics that you have meticulously stitched from the lessons that Scaramouche forced on you. They were ugly, so you have no idea why your husband lets you leave them in the open.

Your 'lovely' Scaramouche once commented on how your needlework was "god awful that even a child can do better". You might not have expressed it physically, but it hurt to hear him say that. Blood was spilled when you were creating your first fabric But you learned the truth later on that the first finished fabric you have created was hidden in the drawer of his office.

It makes your heart confused on why he has to resort to harsh tactics to get a semblance of your "love". Why can't your husband act like a normal person?

Mornings has been something you have been waiting for every single day for the past 5 years. For the whole morning, you have the manor all to yourself. A place for you to be alone with your thoughts. But when the hour hand reaches 12 PM, your teacher for that day will be coming to teach you another useless skill that you will never remember.

Yan Genshin Boys / Regretful Mornings.

Warnings: Fem Reader, not SFW themes, unhealthy relationships, yandere themes, past dubcon, alcohol mention, dark humor, Scaramouche being himself, it’s mentioned in passing that darling stabbed some poor sod while 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️-ing away. 

In which darling is intimate with the genshin boys, only to be in for a rude awakening the next morning. 

Keep reading

aww what if scara’s darling copied his red eye makeup, whether to catch him off guard or because of boredom

at first, scara's narrowing his eyes because hm. there's something different about you. he sees you everyday, he could accurately describe you from memory for any artist commissioned to paint your likeness. this familiarity has even the slightest change in your appearance sticking out like a sore thumb. seriously, you could change lip balms and he'd notice. he's weird like that.

with this in mind, you assumed he'd immediately point out the rouge pigment painted around your eyes. instead, he marched up to you, taking your chin in his unnaturally cold hand for an impromptu examination. after observing you from every possible angle, it hits him. the color, the shape, the placement—

—he blushes and sputters some incoherent spiel about 'ulterior motives' and 'shamelessness.' don't take the insults personally, the poor puppet is malfunctioning. for you to have replicated it this well, you must've studied him at length. did you find him handsome? had you noticed he changed his conditioner, giving his hair a glossier finish?

these thoughts run rampant in his overclocked brain.

good luck trying to convince him you did this out of boredom. he's convinced this is a subconscious sign of attraction, any evidence supporting the contrary goes in one ear and out the other. the power of delusion is unmatched.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫

Characters; All the Harbingers (including Scaramouche and Signora)

Genre: Modern!AU

Summary; A little girl Pierro found after her family abandoned her in the cold winter of Snezhnaya. How will the Harbingers deal with her growing up in their organization?

Warnings; mentions of abandonment, bullying, scara and Dottore not caring abt u for like a millisecond, implied nudes but it’s not direct, if you squint there’s a little Pantalone/Signora but It can be seen as platonic

Notes; uhm so ‘organization’ for the harbingers can live up to yalls perspectives since it’s a Modern!AU. I didn’t wanna say Mafia so imagine to your hearts content.

y’all I would deadass turn this into a series if anyone asked or it got a lot of attention

Support me on Kofi! Link is on masterlist <3 read under the cut!

context; pierro, who found you as a little girl all alone in the snow and came to the assumption that you were left and abandoned here on his walk towards his work. He couldn’t just leave you there all alone to die from the sheer cold, so he brings you to his work, and tries to get any information out of you. You’re too young and small to say anything, but comes to the conclusion with the constant crying, you were indeed abandoned.

Also, imagine the work place is also their home or wtv and they havé rooms (basically the Tsaritsa’a castle)

Pierro, who doesn’t care if you call him by his name or ‘ dad’ when you start to grow up, but he can’t deny the small happy feeling in his chest when he hears you call him dad.

Pierro, who is not always physically there due to work and being away frequently, but tries his best to spend time with you during all his free time.

Pierro, who starts to realize that he has a lot to teach you once you enter high school, but figured maybe he should get one of the female-harbingers to talk to you about uh, certain, stuff

Pierro, who makes sure to be very protective of you and always has someone watching over you. Sometimes he tends to be overprotective when you wanna go out to certain places, but get one of the Harbingers or even his boss to talk to him and he’ll probably change his mind.

Capitano, who always found you absolutely adorable ever since you were brought to the workplace and would coo under his helmet

Capitano, who lets you play with his helmet when he has to take care of you while the others are too busy with work.

Capitano, who would give you piggy back rides once you were a bit taller and older so you wouldn’t easily fall off his back.

Capitano, who is also just as overprotective as Pierro, but he can’t help but let you go out when you plead with your adorable puppy eyes. As long as he knows where you are at all times, you’re free.

Colombina, who would sing you lullabies fo sleep whenever you had trouble sleeping- especially on the first night you arrived, too scared to fall asleep.

Colombina, who would sing karaoke with you on some fun nights, even if it was Barbie songs or whatever childhood shows the others made you watch.

Colombina, who surprisingly, was the first to teach you how to read given her love for reading you bedtime stories whenever Pierro was away.

Dottore, who being fully honest, didn’t have much of a care for you in the world. It’s one day when little you is clinging to the fabric of his pants, little hands up in the air and grabbing the air, he can’t help but pick you up and hold you.

Dottore, who grabs your wrist with Pantalone as they hold it under the sink after your kindergarten teacher told Pierro you held hands with a boy. They had to wash his touch off of you. Cooties, you know?

Dottore, who helps you ace every single science assignment and test all throughout middle school and high school.

Pulcinella, who made a promise to himself and whatever god was out there that he’d be a second father to you the moment he heard that you were abandoned.

Pulcinella, who instead of teaching you to read like Colombina, teaches you math to make sure you don’t fall behind in the difficult subject, and always helps you with your homework. If you take a liking to politics in high school, he’ll be happy to teach you the basics and join him for his daily life as the mayor.

Pulcinella, who does his job as mayor and makes sure to find you the top ranked daycare, elementary, middle and high school in all of Snezhnaya. Money wise don’t matter, especially to all of them.

Scaramouche, who also didn’t give one single shit about you when you came and was a lot more stubborn than Dottore. It’s not until probably a lot longer later, when you come back from daycare crying about how kids bullied you for being adopted, when he realizes you’re just like him- the both of were you abandoned.

Scaramouche, who when is alone with child you, likes to hide his face behind his hands and opens them with a saying of “peek-a-boo!”. If not alone, he’s kind enough to let you play with his hat.

Scaramouche, who realizes that a child was able to let him soften up a bit, and that you gave him a new family.

Scaramouche, who teams up with Childe to make sure that absolutely NO ONE would defile you, and if someone did, Childe can make hassle of them.

Sandrone, who makes you little trinkets and baby toys when your first introduced to all the Harbingers.

Sandrone, who is usually the one to change Capitano or Pierro’s minds on their usual overprotectiveness.

Sandrone, who makes sure to protect you from the horrors of the world while growing up. She makes sure everything is age perfect for you, such as baby-proofing all the sharp edges when you were younger, she makes sure you don’t hear any of the subordinates being yelled at so you don’t get scared, and she sometimes joins in with Childe and Scaramouche to make sure no one defiles you.

Sandrone, who’s main goal will forever be to protect your innocence, even if it eventually gets ruined.

Signora, who is actually top on the Big Sister list. Like Sandrone, she wants to protect your innocence, but also reminds you that the world is not pure, and many people out there will want to ruin you.

(since this is modern, I’d like to say her and Childe are close to the same age, so she’s in her senior year when you’re in middle school)

Signora, who starts to give you friend advice once you enter middle school, because she’s had her fair share of deal of fake friends all through her years of middle school and high school.

Signora, who also gives you fashion advice or dresses you up for school every morning because lord knows Pierro’s fashion sense is horrible. She’s in her last year of high school (senior), so she’s seen all the good and bad fashion trends which means she’ll know just what’s right for you.

Signora, who is also the one who tried to get Capitano and Pierro to calm their overprotectiveness, but even she sometimes lets them win when she has a bad feeling about some high school party you want to go to.

Signora, who is your shoulder to cry on if a boy or girl ever breaks your heart. She is the big sister who tells you the no’s and yes’ of high school- no certain photos to men because they’re monsters at this age, no starting problems for the fun of it, but do make sure to have fun and if you’re dragged in a problem, finish it.

Pantalone, who spoils you ever since the first day you were introduced to them. He somehow beats Sandrone since he buys every single toy you’d point at in shops or see on ads.

Pantalone, who continues to spoil you through your years of aging as it would ascend from baby toys to fake jewelry, clothes, eventually real jewelry and makeup. He did want to give you real jewelry when you were little, but Dottore had to remind him you were a baby and would probably break it. Or eat it.

Pantalone, who glares at any guy you’ve taken an interest in. If instead of a guy it’s a girl, Arlecchino will take care of them if they break your heart.

Pantalone, who gives you money for literally every time you want to go out during your high school years. Movies, mall, trips- literally anything. It doesn’t matter how much, if you want 20$ he’ll give you 200$.

Pantalone, who did indeed turn on the sink and watched as Dottore grabbed your wrist and held it under the sink to wash off the touch of a little boy who held your hand in kindergarten.

Pantalone, who looks online or in stores with you and Signora for dresses when your homecoming and prom comes up. When he sees Signora looking at a dress she’d like for herself, he’ll buy it. He has to spoil his girls, and maybe the men coworkers if they’re being nice.

Arlecchino, who treats you just as any other kid in the orphanage she watches over, but she has a bit more of a soft spot for you.

Arlecchino, who also wants to protect your innocence, but decides instead that you need to know the horrors of the world and peoples real intentions. She did tell you all this at the age of 2 but all you did was angle your small little head to the side while Sandrone scolded her.

Arlecchino, who truthfully snd sadly, is hardly ever there, but if she ever sees something that reminds her of you on her work trips, she’ll make sure to buy it.

Arlecchino, who is not afraid to punch any man or women who tries to hurt you in any way.

Childe, who is probably the best big brother aside from Pantalone. He joined the Fatui when you were 11 and he was 14, so you two got along very easily and were constantly together.

Childe, who would pull pranks with you on the others but Dottore or Sandrone were quick to catch on with whatever you two would create and Pierro would end up lecturing you both.

Childe, who records literally everything the two of you do, whether it be sneaking out to go to parties, breaking something in the workplace or pranks you created. He has a lot of blackmail on you, comrade.

Childe, who promises you that whatever happens in high school, stays there, unless it’s horrible to the point he has to get your father involved.

Childe, who is in his last year (senior) while you’ve just started high school (freshman) and he threatens all the seniors to make sure no one looks at you in the wrong way because 1, it would probably be a felony given they’re all 18 and 2, the men in his grade are disgusting.

Childe, who once (not once he’s done it a bunch of times) beat up a guy in your grade for looking at you the wrong way. He had to stop when it was on the verge of expulsion, but he thinks the message got across to all the men. The ladies can deal with Signora, seeing as she can waltz in given she was an alumni.

Childe, who is now in university, but he decides to come back from his university to be your prom escort. He is still childish, and he did promise that what happens in high school, stays there, so if you both ditch prom later to get McDonald’s or go to a party, no one will ever know.

Hours in the Moonlight Master-List

Most believe that vampires do not exist. That their just an old tale that has been reused countless times in the forms of horror in romance. But you know otherwise. After all, vampires do have a special affection for you for reasons unknown. Delving into the world of the night is something totally different though. Especially for someone who’s been trying to avoid these creatures that practically hunt you.

But then, one step closer in the form of a vampire you accidentally befriend and the slope becomes slippery.

It’s time you learned what happens during hours in the moonlight by the side of vampires who come in the form of friends, allies, and potentially foes.

Here it is! My Twisted Wonderland Vampire AU! I hope you all enjoy!!

Vampires Don't Eat Potatoes

Getting Late

The Same Red

A Vampire Hunter or Something

Far More Charming

Shatter to a Billion Piece

Can't Control Others' Actions

Questions to be Asked

Nothing Good

Of All People

Holy Water, Stakes, and Other Such Things

The Start Line

The New Hunter

A Return to Normalcy

Mirrors

Continue As Planned

New to this World

The Masked Man

Aesthetic for Fairest Midnight Playlist for Fairest Midnight

First Night on the Job

A Lion's Den

An Untamed Predator

Working Together

See This Through

Something to Prove

Were-vampires

A Word of Advice

Tougher Than You Seemed

Protect Our Own

Six Hours

Hunter Becomes The Hunted

Promise

Time With You

The Last of Me

Aesthetic for Persevering Afterlight Playlist for Persevering Afterlight

Good Question

An Oddity

I Must Insist

No Harm in Being Cautious

A Sort of Game Plan

Hypnosis

Memories

Hard Evidence

Chained

Trust

Pinkie Swear

Steamroll Into a Situation

Better to be Safe Than Sorry

Power and Control

Ready To Move On

Aesthetic for Guileful Nightfall Playlist for Guileful Nightfall

Aesthetic for Somnolent Gloaming Playlist for Somnolent Gloaming

Dead Memories and the Undead

A Strange One

More and More Questions

Someone of Incredible Importance

Coming Soon!

If you would like to read more fics like these, my Twisted Wonderland Master-List can be found here: Twisted Wonderland Master-List.

play wrestling — scaramouche.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s rude.” 

“The truth often is.” 

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

You swallow thickly. 

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

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

He stares at you blankly. 

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

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

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.”

Keep reading

I like writing Yandere Scaramouche as someone with a lot of rules because I like to think about how he enforced said rules.

Getting you to call him "my lord" instead of any other name you'd referred to him by was his first course of action. Scaramouche was already a man wound tight like a string about to snap, he believed that he only had to tell you once to get something done. Anything after that would result in a punishment of some form.

But Scaramouche has a soft spot in his heart for you. He does want you around after all. So when he comes to you that first day, when your big eyes are looking around your bedroom scared and shaking, but somehow still managing to shoot a glare at him, he smirks. You're like a little dog, you could bite any second, but you'd look so cute while doing it. Therefore, he decides to train you like a dog.

"Outside of this bedroom, you will only refer to me as 'my lord.' Understood?" this was your one and only time being told, and despite the fact that you scoffed and begged to go home instead of listening to what he said, he knew you'd think on his words eventually.

The next day you were free to roam his manor. You were mostly looking for your escape, testing doors and windows to see if maybe there was a way out, but your arrival was planned for many months before, even if he had less time to prepare the house for you, there wouldn't be an escape.

With his arms crossed, he watched as you tried to open the door to the back garden, locked of course. Even if you did manage to get out, eight armed guards were placed all through out the area, with orders of capture not kill in regards to you. You'd be dragged back before you even had a taste of freedom. But he didn't tell you that.

"You didn't eat today," he stated plainly. Your first meal in his home and you didn't even take a single bite of it. Even he, who did not need food to survive, didn't enjoy watching such a lavish dish go to the trash.

"You must think I'm stupid, Scaramouche-" your little huff of rude words was stopped in its track by his fingers hitting your lips. Your attitude was another issue he'd need to work on, but he wanted to fix one problem at a time.

It didn't hurt, the way the back of his hand met your mouth. Didn't even sting a little. It just felt demeaning. Like you were an animal being scolded and not a person. He did this every time you opened your mouth to call him anything, but his preferred title, and when you spewed profanities at him, he tap your lips a bit harder.

With a huff, you finally decided to call him, "My lord" after many disrespectful taps against your lips spanning over many days. Annoyance finally made you to decide to allow him to win this one, much to your dismay and his pleasure. Your reward for doing as you were told was a gift of sweets and confections, a treat you weren't given because of his vocal distate for such things.

You are them with your arms crossed and your eyebrows knitted, glaring at him as he watched you eat. That little attitude of yours was going to be the next to go.

thundersoother

(when lightning strikes, nothing can stop it.)

word count: 4,999

trigger warning: none

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

oh lordy, this is going to take more than three parts.

part one - part three (tba) (send me an ask to be tagged!)

He floated in the void that is absent of any light or sound.

Time has been frozen since the moment the puppet decided to forego the sight of the pavilion and closed his eyes. Whether the amount of times the sun and moon have changed places, or the changing color of the leaves on trees, he has no way of telling. The world continued to move forward without him, as he was stuck in a state of stasis.

Sometimes, however, he would hear. Be it soft air gently blowing, or the faraway pitter-patter of the rain, or the silence of the mansion that is ever-loud. Though all of them would sound muffled. Sometimes, he would feel. His fine garment resting against his skin, the feather resting atop his chest. Despite this, he was still in slumber.

Even as he heard a distant echoing groan, like something heavy was moved, he could do nothing. His eyes remained closed and his body stayed still, like that of a corpse. A silly thought flashed by in his mind; could his mother be back for him?

So the puppet waited. Strange rhythmic thuds were heard throughout, this sound never before heard, and he realized that it’s footsteps. Soft and light. It would fade away, then become louder, and fade away again. It became a repeating occurrence for an amount of time he could not discern.

At some point the footsteps became louder without receding in the slightest. Followed by the sound of wood sliding against wood, he realized only then, that someone had entered his room. Thud, thud, thud, the footsteps continued until he heard it stopping at his side.

In the silence that ensued, the cavity in his chest seemed to overflow with something he couldn't put a finger on. Anticipation, excitement, all of it? It overwhelmed him. Still, he remained just as he was - eyes closed, body unmoving.

The puppet would soon come to regret and loathe the fact. Because, whether it was short or long, moments later he would soon hear the footsteps moving away, briefly interrupted by the sliding of a wooden door, continuing with gradually-receding footsteps.

Questions go unanswered. The fullness in his chest drained away and was replaced with something different. Heavier, bringing him down to drown in something inexplicable, more painful, more sorrowful.

Don't leave, the puppet wanted to scream, don't leave me alone, alas his lips did not move.

There was only warmth that went down his temples. Again and again in an uncontrollable stream. The tears that caused him to be outcasted are now coming out of his eyes once more. No matter how much he willed it to stop, no matter how much he wished for those accursed tears to disappear, it didn't, and he could only lament in silence for moments that stretched almost endlessly.

When he heard the door opening once more, those tears only dripped faster. An invisible hand gripped his body whole as if trying to crush him under the pressure. The footsteps that never changed in rhythm and speed again stopped at his side.

The fact that he could not tell just who it was in the room with him– is it his mother? Is it someone else that had somehow found this mansion? No matter, it does not change the fact that he wished for no one to see this state of him.

How comedic. When before the puppet wanted them to stay, now he wants nothing more than for them to leave. Selfishly, at least, until it stops.

Then, any and all thoughts he had dissolved to nothingness as a coolness touched his temple. The left side, then the right side, over and over as his tears have yet to stop. Something soft soon replaced the cool touch to wipe his tears away. Though the touch itself was brief, he came to the conclusion that whoever this is, it could not be his mother.

For his mother still retained warmth as a being with flesh and blood. A bodily warmth yet void of any affection, thus making her cold. But whoever this might be, even if they are cold, their movements and touch reflected a warmth that he never had the chance to experience. Until the tears had dried, and only then did they also stop.

Like a core belief has grown within him, that perhaps… they will stay regardless. 

When the footsteps sounded again, he expected to hear the door opening, but there was nothing following it. Maybe it’s just his imagination, but the room felt just slightly warmer. The presence of someone else inside the vast mansion with him warranted ease to his mind and lightweightedness in his chest.

And so the puppet found himself to be a part of a routine. Still drifting in the sea of black, he could only listen and feel. Monotony broken by a new monotony. The unfamiliarity became a source of comfort for him.

Though indeed, he is still unsatisfied with this state of his. His curiosity would not be quelled like this. The questions he had were unanswered, and they would remain so for what he thought would be eternity, until fate would prove him wrong.

It was sudden. First he heard a muffled voice, soft yet stern that faintly sounded familiar to his mother, but with a difference he could not put his finger on. Then he felt his body being moved. Having no control, he could only sway while he was lifted with the same cold hands he hadn’t felt since the first time. The frontside of his body pressed against something stiff and as cold as those hands, his head turned to the side and nodded in the same pace as the footsteps he had memorized overtime.

The puppet had to wonder then, who is taking him and where? What prompted this change? And what will happen moving forward? He thinks, and while he does, in comes another voice that belonged to a man. He and the woman talked to each other. Their words are muddled together and hard to discern, but if he focuses on it…

"...you two… …sealed… …guarding him?"

"...only purpose…"

"...to talk to… ...lonely?"

"...at all."

Vibrant red and soft brown bled with black until it was completely replaced. Panels of wood below him was a sight he hadn’t seen for a long while. Such is the same for the walls, and the maple leafs that fluttered into the hall, an abstract decoration to the mansion.

Ah, these were the sights he never thought he would ever see again. Though disoriented and blurry after having his eyes closed for so long, he could still discern everything he saw. Nothing changed, not that he thought anything would, thus he was only proven wrong.

The voices compelled him to finally wake. As his head shifted stiffly, he came to an abrupt stop.

"Give us a moment."

His chest vibrated with a voice not of his own. It's one that is familiar to his mother - the voice of the woman who was carrying him on her back. As he was lowered down carefully, there were hurried footsteps that led away from him, probably belonging to the man he heard, though he hadn't seen him.

The floor was cold. The wall was cold. The yellow light shining onto his eyes was bright despite being obstructed by someone. He couldn’t see through the blur. When he could, what he saw was a living mirror. Clad in light purple clothes and face near split-image to the one who created him, lacking only a beauty mark below her purple eyes. Violet hair framed her face. With all of these facts in front of him, and a sense of hollowness in his chest that weighed him down, he spoke;

"...you're not her."

"No. But I am like you."

She remained unfazed by his words, while he was struck by her's.

Another puppet. Another discarded puppet.

That’s what she is, and that’s why she was in the mansion in the first place. The place that already housed one useless puppet, what would the presence of another one do to its empty space? They wouldn’t even leave a trace.

“A human came in and said that there had been a landslide,” she spoke as if not noticing the shock in his face. “I dare not take the chance to see if the place would collapse or not, so I planned to carry you out and leave. I hadn’t expected you to wake up.”

“I heard voices.” He said. “I always heard noises… footsteps, and doors. But never voices. That’s why I woke up.”

“Apologies. I suppose it was quite a startling experience for you.”

Startling… yes, indeed. A stasis broke out of his control, and he was at the center of the storm. Perhaps there was a sense of self-preservation within him that prompted him to wake out of his slumber. And maybe, just maybe, this is fate’s way of telling him to grasp his own life.

“Now that you’re awake, do you wish to stay–”

“--I want to leave.”

“Very well. Here, you can climb onto my back.”

He watched her turn on her knees and leaned her body forward, waiting for him. He could only stare, caught off-guard by her frankness and composure. It’s as if nothing could faze her. Such strong front, then he remembered that she was most likely the one who wiped his tears away. That memory is enough to confuse him.

“I can walk.” He said, not letting his thoughts linger. “I… I want to walk on my own.”

“As you wish.”

Though he said so, it took a considerable amount of effort for him to be able to stand on his two legs. The utility of his being as a puppet means that he has no muscle strength that would deteriorate with the lack of use, but after so long, the feeling of wooden floor beneath his feet needed to get used to.

All the while, she stayed an arm’s distance away and watched him vigilantly. Not once did she offer help nor did she say anything. Even once he was able to stand straight, she merely placed down a pair of geta near his feet and beckoned him to follow her afterwards. Her silence is unnerving.

The human down the hall seemed to be nervous while his gaze wandered everywhere it could see. Despite that, he perked up and approached them with fast steps, eyes never leaving his form, yet he appears to be most gladdened.

“You’re awake! How are you feeling? Your sister said that you’ve been sleeping for a long time. If you’re tired, don’t force yourself, and I can carry you instead.”

The puppet turned his head to the other one beside him. She who is taller than him, whose face bears too much resemblance to the one who discarded him, who kept vigilant. The only thing shared between them is the nature of their existence, but does that constitute them to be brother and sister? …a question to be answered another time.

As they headed to leave, the human introduced himself as Katsuragi - a yoriki of Tatarasuna. He told them of the smelting facility at the center of the island, the main source of supply of jade steel for the Shogunate army, and also told them of how he came to discover the mansion.

“Why don’t you come with me to Tatarasuna? I’m sure the others will welcome you!” Katsuragi was enthusiastic in his suggestion. He was quick to consider his offer more, however, upon landing his gaze on the golden feather. “Although… I’m guessing it would be harder to explain all of this to them…”

The puppet grasped the feather in his hand silently.

“Well, here, we don’t have to tell them about this place. I can just say that I found you two in a cave. How does that sound?” He suggested.

“If we are to come with you, then the proposal is agreeable.” Said the other puppet.

“‘If’?”

“I will go wherever my brother goes.”

His gaze met her's silently.

The puppet recalled the pavilion showered in red leaves and peeking warm sunlight. No matter how long he would sit on the en, time never seemed to go forward. The leaves would remain red, and the sun was never replaced by the moon. Indeed the mansion was exquisitely built, but stasis does not maintain its beauty. Not for those that have been trapped within it.

“We’ll go.” He said finally. Voice meek in volume, but his will resolute. “Can we stay there?”

“If you’re looking for a permanent stay, well… it’s not up to me. You’ll have to convince Niwa to let you stay. Oh, but don't worry! I will do everything I can to help you.”

How kind, he thought of the human. With the ease brought into his mind, his steps to ever-nearing freedom felt lighter.

It felt as if he was reborn anew.

He'd forgotten the true sun's warmth. The smell of salt permeating in the air. The breeze against his skin as if it was greeting him. Welcoming him.

The puppet was overfilled with joy, but he did nothing but to stand there, clasping the feather harder than he ever did. Admiring the world before him with wide eyes as if it would disappear should he blink. Ingraining the image deep into his head, every little detail, every little feeling, holding it precious.

He could say nothing. His lips may move and he may let out his voice, but there is nothing he could say. Try as he may to voice his thoughts, to let his feelings out, there are simply no words that would even be enough for it. Perhaps his silence itself could convey the myriads of feelings he's experiencing.

If he had the power, this would be the moment he wants to spend in eternity.

Dreams must come to an end sooner than later, however, but just at this moment he is satisfied. There will be many more chances to bask in nature. For now, his spirits lifted and steps light, the puppet turned to the two figures waiting for him at the distance.

Katsuragi had a pleasant and gladdened expression while he stood by the other puppet, impassive as she had been. Her hands in front of her thighs, holding–

The puppet reached his hand to his head, feeling the silky soft tuft of his hair instead of his veil. At that same moment, the other puppet leaned her weapon on the rock wall and moved towards him, his purple veil in hand.

“I didn’t even notice when it fell off…” he mumbled, sheepish and embarrassed.

“The wind blew it off.”

He’s not sure if that was supposed to make him feel better or not.

She affixed the veil back on his head and even went so far to ensure that they are evenly parted. Only when she was sure it wouldn't fall off again did she step away. All the while, he trailed behind her, his fingers pinching the purple veil securely. Katsuragi watched them with a hesitant smile.

“You said that you two have been sealed there for a long time…” he began nervously, “but it doesn’t look like it’s affected you the same way as your brother.”

“I do not concern myself with these matters.” She answered easily, but without a hint of condescension. “I am only here for my brother.”

Whether out of their creator’s order, or if she, for one reason or another, decided to do it herself, he does not know. One thing he is sure of, however, is that he could always ask her later and she will answer.

This assuredness of his is strange. For he only spoke to her only a few moments ago. The time spent listening to all of her footsteps never clued him anything about her. She is silent, always, and little of her can be discerned. Yet he found himself trusting her so easily… Be it his own naivety or hidden instinct, he is not limited by time to ponder about this.

Afterwards, Katsuragi led them deeper into the island. He spoke of the workers of Tatarasuna and the small community that lives on the island with much fondness. He is constantly assuring them - or rather, him - that the people there will welcome them with open arms. Though the sentiment is much appreciated, they will only know once they arrive.

With every step taken deeper into the terrain, the land seems to slowly swallow them. Rock walls surround them, so tall it makes the sky look like it’s farther than it already is, yet wooden houses are built on its walls. Gaps are covered by hanging bridges, and at the center of the opening, a big device hung afloat, radiating with heat.

The breeze no longer blew, but the air was much warmer. Sound of the ocean crashing against the cliffs and lapping at the beach drowned out by clanging metal against metal, wood against wood, and the crackling of fire. It’s as if they had entered a completely different world.

Judging from appearance alone, this does not seem like a suitable place for mass processed-ore production. Yet all the people they passed by looked unbothered by the seemingly ill-suited environment for such heavy jobs.

And just as he watched them curiously, they, too, seem to reciprocate his sentiment.

The Puppet ducked his head, his legs bringing himself closer to the other Puppet. She paced in front of him, but upon his approach, slowed down to instead walk by his side. She pulled on the top of his veil slightly, just barely hanging over his face. If he peeked over the veil and up to her face, he would see her keeping her chin up and gaze straight ahead.

Katsuragi led them through busy workers, up an elevator, to one of the many houses built on the walls. He made them stay there while he went and called for the two figures of authorities known as Niwa and Nagamasa. The Puppet wondered if he ever got tired running up and down such inconveniently placed buildings.

“We should prepare ourselves,” the other Puppet said suddenly, “they are bound to ask us questions. We must have our story as straight as possible.”

“Do we really have to lie to them?” He mumbled. “If they take us in, and they find out… wouldn’t that be bad?”

“Our current circumstances are too intricate to explain, and our identity can be held against us if we flaunt it. Let us observe for now, and when the time is right, perhaps we can tell them the truth.”

It feels wrong. Should these people grant them a place to stay, share their resources, and accept them just as Katsuragi said, would it not be treacherous of them to hide the truth? And what does she mean, their identity held against them? The way she spoke is as if she is wary of humans, which could imply her experience - or lack thereof - with them.

“Do not worry,” she puts her hand on her chest, “I will do the talking, so any lies told, will only be told by me. If the worst comes, I will shoulder it myself, and ensure that you are safe.”

So he nodded with a sealed lips. He returned to pinching his veil, thinking deeply of what went down in the past hour. So many things happened already, bringing forth change that he never thought would come to his life.

A blessing. This must be what it is, right?

The passage of time goes uncounted. Katsuragi eventually returned, following in tow behind him is a young man with a red streak in his hair, and an older man with a stern expression. The empty space in his chest felt as if it churned.

Katsuragi introduced them; the young man with a kind smile is the Armory Officer of Tatarasuna, Niwa Hisahide. The puppet thought of how he seemed to not fit the description of a smithy when compared to the older man, Mikoshi Nagamasa. Katsuragi was sent away afterwards while the two puppets were brought into the room.

“Have a seat, please. Make yourselves at home.” Niwa spoke kindly, before he disappeared into another room. The other puppet bowed forward slightly, then went to sit on a mat. He followed her move albeit more clumsy and less refined.

“Katsuragi said that he found you two sealed in by a landslide.” Nagamasa, who was silent this whole time, spoke suddenly. “And that neither of you remember anything."

“I remember that I am his sister." She corrected. Lied.

"Do you remember your names?"

"I remember that we never had a name to own."

The Puppet was given no name by his creator, that much is true. He only had a feather to his being. When he looked at the other puppet, she seemed to have nothing on her. Her outfit is adorned with patterns of flowers, and her hair band has nothing of note. Was she never left with anything in the first place?

"And what about you, boy?" 

Not expecting to be talked to, the Puppet shied away from the human's gaze.

"I don't remember anything."

"Not even your sister?"

"...no."

She remained as she was before. Unchanging. It's hard for the Puppet to conclude whether or not what he said was the correct thing to say.

"Well, you two look like each other, at least. There is no doubt that you are related." Niwa returned with a tray in his hands, two cups of piping hot tea balanced on it. He placed each cup in front of them, still with a kind smile. "Katsuragi mentioned that you wanted to stay here. Although that is fine, are you sure you don't want to find out your origin? We can try looking into your background and see if we can get you home. With your style of clothing, it shouldn't be too hard."

"...my sister said that we are nameless in the first place. If that's true, I suppose we never had a home to begin with."

Home. Is it the majestic pavilion where time is frozen, or is it the palace of the nation's ruling Archon? Were they his home, or were they just places he used to be at? If coldness and emptiness are what constitutes a home, then he doesn't want to go back.

A touch landed gently on his shoulder. Impassive as always, the other Puppet's hand on him only serves as a positive affirmation for his words. But Niwa had a smile - a different smile when compared to the one he wore when he first greeted them. It's smaller. It doesn't look quite as happy now.

"Then you can make your home here." He told them. “Though we hope that you can contribute to our community as well.”

“Thank you for your generosity. We will surely repay the favor in full.” Her hand came down from his shoulder to his own, folded on his lap. She bowed her head and once more, he followed in suit. “I can start working right away. Please let my brother rest.”

“No! N-no, I can work too!” The Puppet’s sudden outburst was surprising not just to those in the room but to himself as well. The other Puppet raised her head and squeezed his hand with just the slightest amount of pressure.

“You just woke up, brother. You need rest.” She rebuked him gently.

“I think I’ve rested more than enough. Far too long, even!”

“Now, now, you two,” Niwa cuts in between them, calm, “none of you will be working right now. Since you'll be staying here, how about you familiarize yourself with the place and everyone else first?"

The consideration is taken with fluster by the Puppet. But even so, his lips quivered with restrained joy. As he glanced at the other Puppet, still impassive as ever, he found that he could honestly care less about what it is she thinks right now. All that he needed to know, as he squeezed her hand in his grip, is that she will be there with him in his new life.

Night fell before he even realized it. They were taken around the area and introduced to the people, and were even invited to their community dinner. They were recluse and sat somewhat separated from the others, but the lively atmosphere captivated the puppet.

Afterwards, Katsuragi took them to his home, as he offered to house the two puppets. It’s a humble abode, its size could not compare to the mansion that previously housed them, but… the little trinkets around the house, the fireplace, the signs of life… it made it feel much more.

“I still have some things to take care of, so please make yourself comfortable.” Katsuragi spoke from the door, apologetic and shy.

“Apologies for intruding, Master Katsuragi.” The other puppet bowed her head.

“No, no, you’re not intruding at all!” He waved his hands quickly. “I’ll be on my way now. I’ll have someone send you two spare futons shortly.”

The door slid to a close. The sound of footsteps becomes quieter and quieter, muted by the gentle waves of the sea. Its sound covers the silence and envelops them in a dreamlike state, almost like the time when he slumbered. Everything felt isolated and faraway.

“How are you feeling?”

Her stare hides nothing behind it, her voice shows no emotion. He couldn’t figure it out. Why she appears so nonchalant and distant and yet every action she has made thus far seems to constitute to his wellbeing.

“I’m alright.” He answered after a moment of hesitation, and with a few more, spoke, “how about you?”

The other puppet tilted her head. “There is no need to worry about me. I am fine.”

He didn’t want to assume. But she was the one who stayed with him in the mansion, the one who carried him on her back as they left, the one who promised to lie in his stead to keep him safe. Undeterred by everything, why would she ever be affected? The puppet bristled in shame.

“Right. I’m sorry.”

“There is no need to apologize either. I should be the one to do that.”

In the room lit dimly by the mixture of an oil lamp and ocean-reflected moonlight that bled through the window, the other puppet sat down where she stood. He sat across her, hands fisted on top of his thighs. She is too uncanny. Too much like their mother. He hated it - the fact that she looks like her.

A strange silence stretched between them before the other puppet finally spoke.

“When Master Katsuragi first found us, I told him that you are my brother. You were unconscious at the time so I could not discuss it with you beforehand. I thought that the term might have brought you some discomfort, considering that you never knew who I am.”

“I would like to apologize for that. But also for asking you to continue the act, just for when we are around other people.”

There is an unexplainable split in the hollow of his chest. His frown came before he even realized it, uselessly hiding it away with a turn of his head. When she is right in front of her, there is simply nothing he could do to hide.

“...it’s alright. I understand.”

"You seem troubled by it."

It’s strange. He knew her as a presence that hovered and lingered around him while he was in the void, more so than a person with an actual relationship with him, up until only a few hours ago. Even now he barely knows anything about her. But still–

“That’s not it, I…” At the last second, he bit the top of his tongue, stopping himself from continuing.

But her coaxing was gentle, “it is alright. You can tell me,” and he relented.

“...I don’t want it to be an act. I want to be your brother, and I want you to be my sister. Because… because we are, right?”

Maybe it was the dim light’s illusion, but he could’ve sworn that surprise briefly flashed across the other puppet’s face. She was silent for a few moments more. Thinking and pondering deeply. Her silence made him nervous.

“I am not quite familiar with the details of a relationship between siblings.” She told him finally. “But if that is what you want, then I will do as you wish. I shall do my best to be a good and proper sister for you."

It's a start. It's definitely a good start. The puppet's lips bloomed to a smile, though it soon shrank to be one of awkwardness and shame.

"You know… I'm technically your older brother, right? But why… it feels like our roles have been reversed…"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, you've been very protective this whole time for my sake, but shouldn't it be the other way around? Shouldn't I be the one to protect you? Isn't that how it usually goes?"

"I do not see the point of conforming to traditional roles. If we can protect each other, then that is all that matters."

But how will he be able to do that? Meek, curious, and maybe a little bit hesitant, all that he has done so far is following his sister's words. The lies she's told are clear acts of her protectiveness of him, as if her previous actions weren't obvious enough.

He must learn. He must grow. So that he could also protect her, just as she has done. It will take a long time, he thought to himself, as he maintained his gaze with her sister.

But he believes–

"Then I will do my best to protect you too, sister."

–that day will arrive.

part one - part three (tba)

she-on, 07:58 AM, 2/28/2023

Platonic Yandere Lyney Thoughts

Just a little think piece abt what I think Lyney would be like as a yandere, and what I think would make a him a yandere. Small Lynette cameo. Repost cause the last one disappeared so sorry. PT 2 here!

cw: soft yandere, kidnapping, child!reader, gn!reader

Platonic and soft Yandere Lyney who really wants to feel like a good big brother. His siblings are both House of Hearth members, doing dirty work for the Fatui, so he knows he failed somewhat with them. But you?

The adorable little street rat that sneaks into the crowd to watch his shows, wide eyed and amazed? Who jumps and can’t help but giggle when he shows off even the simplest of card tricks? You just look so… starved. Like a baby bird without a nest. Easy to scoop up and take home.

He wanted to be your savior. The one who you look up at with admiration, amazement. “How did you do that, Mister Lyney!”

In front of you, he didn’t feel like a mistake of a brother that failed to save his siblings from this life.

If only you just came home with him. Every time he offered dinner, or invited you around to watch a new magic trick of his, you refused. He supposed he couldn’t be mad, stranger danger and all that. He knew better than anyone else. As days passed and he continued to watch you hungry, searching for scraps while he had a house full of food. It broke him.

Maybe thats why he followed you back to your little hideout.

You didn’t notice, after all, what match was a street rat against a master of diversion? The hideout was tucked in a thin alleyway, hardly wider than him, behind some shops not too far from home. The rooftops of the nearby buildings shielded you from the rain as you huddled in what could only be described as a nest—formed from ratty old blankets and the rare trinket or clothing item you undoubtedly stole.

Lyney sighed, gathering you up in the dirty quilt you clutched and holding you in his arms. “Lighter than you should be… poor thing. I’m taking you home now kid.”

You didn’t move, just laid in his arms, but he hoped warm glow of his pyro vision was soothing to your freezing body.

Lynette was awake when he came through the door, you in his arms. Immediately, her sharp eyes fell to the child in his arms, and she just sighed. “I suppose this is what you set the guest bedroom up for?”

“Oh come on Lynette.” He said, an edge of excitement in his hushed tone. “I couldn’t just leave them. Anyone could have come by and snatched them up!”

“Evidently, someone did. You.”

“They’ll be better off with us.”

“They don’t know that. They won’t. For months, even. Are you prepared for that?” Lynnette said, sighing when Lyney nodded. “Oh well, you seemed so set on this. I installed key operated locks on the windows throughout the house while you were away. You already did but I figured everywhere would be more helpful in case they escape their room before they’ve settled.”

All at once, Lyney untensed, a look of pure relief washing over his face. He honestly didn’t know what he’d do had Lynette rejected their new sibling.

“Thank you Lynnette, you’re always such a help.” He smiled over his shoulder at her as he carried you to off your new bedroom.