#The Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers

[genshinincorrectquotes]

[When the group and Scaramouche  are trying to work out why the Fatui would be interested in a meatpacking plant.]

Diluc: Contaminate the food supply? Kill a lot of people? 

Scaramouche: Nonsense, if the Fatui wanted to kill a lot of humans they could simply use their delusion’s to ignite the atmosphere. 

[Silence]

Kaeya: Well. There’s a happy thought.

[sir-klauz]

The Wanderer, The Balladeer, Kunikuzushi, Country Destroyer, the Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers, a "vagrant from Inazuma”, and also known as, Scaramouche.

[sh1-n0bu]

I’d like to order some nsfw genshin impact SAGAU stuff:

More specifically, its when the Creator uses a vessel different from Wanderer, their main, and he gets jealous all the time.

So, when they descend on teyvat, one of the first things they do is fuck the jealousy out of him so badly he cant speak. (Yes its overstimulation because MAN…)

♡︎ 𝙢𝙮 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙜𝙤𝙙 ♡︎

characters: sub!AFAB!wanderer (or scaramouche) x nb!dom!reader

warnings: overstimulation, dacryphillia, jealousy, oral fixation, squirting, fingering, slight cult-ish and religious undertones

notes: hhhh my first sagau smut

kabukimono adored the creator.

how could he not? he was just a mere creation and a vessel of the god of all gods.

the first to tell the poor, discarded puppet of you was niwa. when seeing how everyone in tatarasuna worshipped a being called divine creator, the poor puppet couldn’t help his own curiosity and ask. in response, niwa patiently explained to him how there was once an ancient being. a god of all gods. one who even reigned over the archons, celestia itself. one who created teyvat, blessed it with life and in their weakened state, went to an eternal rest.

kabukimono adored the creator with the hollow remains of where his heart is meant to be. an empty shell filling with fuzzy feelings, smile spreading on his face whenever he goes to pray at your shrine, offerings of small yet precious things left in your altar. he only hoped it would please your soul.

kunikuzushi has secret reverence and respect for the creator.

you took away his friend, his home, his family and yet he still hopes for your guidance. carrying hope in the shape of a small wooden carving that he made, which he clutches closely to his chest.

during restless nights and moments when he feels himself slipping, losing hope, losing sight of loving you — he clutches the wooden carving to his chest. tight, tight to the point it leaves a dent in his pale hand and whispers into it. how he wishes to be in your care. how he hopes that you didn’t abandon him. how he hopes that your loving arms would hold him one day. how you are the only source of life he has.

how all the blood he shed was meant for you. a sacrifice for you. to appease you. to bring you back to teyvat. to see you in flesh.

kunikuzushi has secret reverence and respect for the creator.

scaramouche despises the creator.

you left him. when his own mother betrayed him and left him alone, he was lucky to be found by nagamasa. he was lucky that niwa was kind enough to let him stay at tatarasuna. how you were so cruel that even after all the metal and iron, gold and silver he molded and modeled to make tiny offerings to your altar. how you were twisted to give him small slivers of hopes in the form of niwa and the sick child, yet to take them away.

he hates you. despises you. loathes you. every little altar he sees, he hopes to destroy it. every statue of you he glimpses at, he uses his delusion to shock the old and eroded stone until it breaks and crumbles. oh, how badly he wished to do the same to you.

the sixth of the eleven fatui harbingers won’t even hesitate for a split second to spit on your name even in the presence of the tsaritsa. childe always looks down on him whenever he does. the ginger’s hands twitching, delusion and vision mixing up together as he tries his best to hold himself back from jumping on the short arrogant puppet.

and yet despite it all… scaramouche still clutches the small wooden carving of you. holding it close to his chest as he secretly whispers in his mind how much he wishes to please you. the puppet only hopes all the bodies he piled up would satisfy you, even just a little bit.

wanderer loves you dearly.

he has been wrong this whole time. you were never twisted, never sick in the head nor heart, never wishing to manipulate him, never wishing harm or pain upon anything. you were gentle. loving. every life form you passed by would swoon and sway, hoping to touch you. even touching your clothes or robes would be enough.

when be first got his vision, he heard your voice in his head. it was the same loving warmth that enveloped the traveler. it was warm, gentle, loving but still not fully there. when he protected the traveler and the floating thing, he could hear you cheer for him. for him.

but when an array of shooting stars engulfed the fake skies, wanderer looks up as always. blue ones, purple ones and then he felt it. a certain pull in his chest. like how red strings of fate tugs on your pinky in all those fairytales.

and he follows.

running, running, running — until he eventually reaches an odd place. a clear sky, one that looked real and one that cradled him in a gentle warmth.

“yeeesss!! you’re finally home! welcome home, wanderer!” a voice rings in his head loud and clear. excitement, happiness, elation, joy, pride — all sorts of emotions bubble in him, ready to burst out. but instead it fell down in the form of a tear. a happy tear.

it was you. it was the creator. the all-knowing, all-loving one. and you wanted him! him of all people! and you were happy that you had him!

yet wanderer doesn’t get it.

if you loved him so much, wanted him, pre-farmed for him as you said and even got his signature weapon, why were you using someone else? why use that cocky cryo user from mondstadt? why use his brother who is equally cocky but knows how to keep it hidden? why use that annoying old archon who flaunts that he is your oldest and most devout follower? or even the yashirou commissioner!

was he not enough? was he not strong enough? did you needed to “farm” for his talent materials? if so, no need! he already went ahead and got them for you when you logged out! everything to make him the perfect dps as you called is all there and ready!

strange.

why was your other characters are all either dead or on 1hp when you log in? only wanderer is there — your main — in full hp. standing proud and cocky with the same grin.

——

it’s tough to be a god.

no seriously. all jokes and that damn catchy song aside, it was indeed tough to be a god. especially when all these powerful people who can literally control elements and even gods themselves were worshipping you. how can you be a god of all gods?

well, you found out the answer to that question on one of your earlier days when you got a little bit too curious. all in the form of an ichor bleeding out of your palm that you sliced. and perhaps a bit pressured too. after all, being put on a pedestal for everyone to see and worship and grovel to is hard to deal with. especially when you were suddenly thrown into a world that you thought was only fictional!

but there was also something else that was incredibly, unbelievably, astoundingly hard to deal with was your main. the puppet who was abandoned. the short, sarcastic asshole. but never towards you! he would hate to make you even slightest bit sad or angry.

and yet he does it anyways.

going out of his way to stalk down some poor merchant you like buying things from to buy most of their stock so you won’t visit the merchant’s shop again. picking fights with your acolytes when you show the slightest hint of favoritism. hell, he almost killed childe. but of course, the battle lusted ginger loved the thrill and had asked for more future fights.

which all led to here. him getting his well deserved punishment.

poor wanderer thinking he was all too slick. how he was doing everything behind your back so you wouldn’t know anything. how you would stay innocent to his actions while he goes and picks another fight. but you noticed. every single jealousy inflicted actions wanderer had pulled and orchestrated, you knew.

anyone could walk in right now and see what was happening. anyone of your pathetic other acolytes could walk in and see how good you were fucking him. fingers knuckles deep into his cunt, fucking him so good, so deep.

and dear stars and you, wanderer wanted that. he wanted those pathetic worshippers to see how you favored him above them.

wanderer had lost his sense of self and mind long time ago. the moment you wrapped your hand around his throat to manhandle his tiny body to sit on your lap, his mind was gone. a blank sheet of paper.

the puppet doesn’t remember how many orgasms you’ve wrung out of him but he loved it. he wanted it. he wanted more. he wanted your fingers to fuck him open.

in his hazy mind, lust ridden babbles and overstimulated body, he can feel it. how your other hand is keeping his labia spread open. how you apply pressure around his cunt. how your fingers are squelching into him, creating a filthy wet shlick! shlick! noises.

how your hand keeping his labia open goes to tug on his clit. pinching the bud of muscle as he writhes and screams in your lap. squirting over your fingers again like a common brothel whore. and he loved it. by the stars above, he loved it.

because deep in his most depraved part of mind, wanderer knew that he was a whore. your whore. your common brothel cheap whore. your whore who would spread open his legs for you if you asked for it. who would eagerly finger himself so he can provide you with some sort of entertainment. who would take your hand and guide it inside his shorts, not even bothering to wear undergarments, so he can give you easier access.

he doesn’t remember. doesn’t want to remember how many times he came. when you place him on your own throne, legs propped on both sides on the armrest, his wet, slick covered pussy and hardened sensitive clit for the world to see, all he can think about is how good it feels.

when you get down on your knees in front of him, it feels like a sacrilege. shouldn’t it be him who’s on his knees in front of you, trying and hoping to please you?

yet all of his thoughts fly out the window when your fingers stretch his sensitive pussy open again. fingers hooked on the inside slightly, just enough to open up his inner labia and for you to admire his gaping hole. waiting eagerly for you to claim it once again.

“your gra—aanhg!! grace! grace! your grace!! f-feelsh good. feelsh good feelsh goodfeelsgoodgoodgood ghk—! aammh!♥︎“ the jealous puppet whines and babbles on, your title falling over his lips over and over like a mantra as he drools. mind long gone, sanity on the thin line between delirium and lucidity. struggling to comprehend just what is happening.

he feels your mouth on him. tongue lapping at his juice greedily like an insatiable animal while he struggles to keep his legs open. hand twitching, hesitating for a moment before he grips onto your hair tightly — his only anchor. he can feel everything too greatly.

body sensitive, pushed over the boundaries of his virgin state. he could feel how you suck on his sensitive clit, forcing him to squirt into your mouth.

if this was how you would treat him to stop his jealousy induced rampages, maybe wanderer should do it more often.

[ddarker-dreams]

Redamancy.

Yan Scaramouche x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes and unhealthy relationships. Word count: 1k.

“You scowl too much.” 

If anyone else were to speak to Scaramouche, Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbinger in this way, they’d certainly be reduced to a pitiful pile of ash on the ground. Perhaps he’s thought about subjecting you to this fate, once or twice. That number could very well have been bumped up to three times if the indignant air he currently regards you with is to be considered. 

Then again, no one aside from you would get to experience this deceptively domestic scene. You sit beneath a canopy, branches free from winter’s thaw hastily preparing buds to herald in spring. Scaramouche holds your thighs captive, the soft flesh serving as his pillow. Indigo locks splay out against and tickle your skin. 

“There’s a lot to scowl about,” he replies, though he makes an effort to relax his tense facial muscles. The contemptuous smile he gives makes his previous expression look benevolent in comparison. “I’m stuck dealing with a fool of a woman who’d probably wander off a cliff because she was too busy admiring the clouds.” 

“Clouds are meant to be admired.” 

“Case in point.” 

“You make it sound like I’m chained to you with iron shackles, though,” you raise your ankle (notably shackle free, imagine that), drawing his attention and ire. Your sarcasm never fails to rile him up. He never seriously tries to put a stop to it, however. Such is his capricious nature. “If I’m such a bother, why not let me wander off the cliff?” 

Scaramouche grits his teeth. “Because…” 

There’s a pause, then, weighty and tangible. You know what he both wants and fears to say. If he were any less of a coward, he’d fill the aromatic air with truth, rather than engaging in his usual sidestepping. He’s so proficient at the act you swear he could moonlight as a crab. This mental image earns a barely contained giggle from you, one that further sours his mood, if such a thing were possible. 

Knowing you as intimately as he does, he correctly assumes that he’s the unwitting source of your amusement. 

“I can’t stand you,” he grumbles. Whether it’s to you or himself, you can’t decide. “Truly, I can't.” 

“Then hand me over to someone who can.” 

There’s a flash in his eyes then — otherworldly, malicious — he disregards composure like a snake abandons shed skin. He rises in a flash. Inhumanly cold fingers take your chin captive, bringing you closer to him, his delight in the ease with which he can manhandle you evident. Always the type to go for grand gestures, this one. His theatrical outbursts befit his moniker. 

Scaramouche grins, beset with an onslaught of bitterness akin to a black hole. It draws in and swallows anything unfortunate enough to be nearby. 

“You just love testing my patience, don’t you?” 

If you feared him, maybe you’d tremble, but you don’t, so you are still. It’s likely that you should fear him. He is volatile, a mess of contradictions too complicated to untangle, a vessel who fills himself with acrimony, the same way humans must with air. He delights in it and considers it his birthright. 

Your smile is not without kindness and that’s what bothers him most. 

“Come, don’t pout. I have no intentions of being complicit in whatever havoc you'd wreak if I was with another.” 

His eye twitches at the pesky word ‘another’. The mere thought of this faceless, nonexistent being having the audacity to lay claim to you, even in the land of fantasy, has his nostrils flaring and jaw tightening. You can see the ripple of muscles beneath his synthetic skin. He’s a wonder, this proprietorial doll, who can exalt and condemn you in the same breath. 

You are mine, and mine alone, his eyes seem to scream, and I’d sooner end the world than exist in it without having you for myself. 

“You really do scowl too much,” you reiterate your opinion from earlier, gently, almost sweetly. Whatever spell Scaramouche was under temporarily breaks, or perhaps he’s held prisoner to a new one, far more agreeable if not equally dangerous. “Your face is too pretty to always be frowning.” 

You enchant him by running your finger over his lower lip. It trembles by your command. His eyes go lidded, a lovelorn haze obscuring the former tempest. He can never decide if he wants to destroy or devour you. For someone like him, he can’t do one without the other. His love for you is a death sentence, despite the immortality that should’ve never belonged to your mortal body. 

It’s you who kisses him. 

He temporarily forgets himself. The arrogance, the hurt, the fear that you might slip between his fingers should he ever relax his hold. You find him foolish in that regard. He can have you in the palm of his hand if he likes, and you know he’d like that very much. There’s nowhere else for you to be. Not when he’s seen to the fact himself. 

Scaramouche melts into your person, returning your kiss with rapture, drunk on the way you offer yourself to him. He makes a deep, breathy noise, willing you closer, demanding total subservience. You let him have his way. Civilizations could rise and fall in the seconds that follow, and he’d pay them no mind, too absorbed with savoring your temporary connection. 

It is what he lives for; what he'd kill for.

His fair skin is flushed when you part. From the apple of his cheeks to the tip of his ears, he’s painted in a color from your palette. The pigmentation suits him. Red is the color around his eyes, of his longing for you, and of what would spill across the land should you ever part. 

“There,” you whisper, as if it were a secret meant for him alone, “That look suits you far better.” 

He wants to deny it — you can tell by how his grip tightens — but he remains uncharacteristically quiet. If he gets to delight in you, it’s only fair that you can occasionally delight in him, he supposes. 

Such is your capricious nature. 

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

What About Scaramouche? Like not Wanderer, Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers Scaramouche.

Scaramouche, The Sixth Harbinger, is on False Creator's side.

Because they promised him a throne of an Archon. As soon, as they have one available.

When Creator decided, what to do with Dendro Archon.

"Don't bow so low, Scaramouche. You are a future Archon. Carry yourself with more dignity." gently scolds Creator. Scaramouche lift his head, looking at Their Holiness. At the embodiment of power and grace.

_________

Scaramouche bowed before Ivory Throne. Creator's voice was calm and welcoming.

He didn't dare to ask, when he will get his title. He believed in Creator. They will fulfill their promise. They were above people and gods. Above the sin of lie.

Yet, Scaramouche wished, that the days of his godhood came sooner.

If only that stubborn Dendro Archon will make up their mind.

________

Devine came into Sanctuary of Surasthana. Something more devine, in the eyes of other people, than Dendro Archon, trapped inside the Sanctuary. Devine were there before. They didn't get what they want before. Devine hopped, that this time, they will get it.

"Don't worry, dear child. I will let you free." Devine sang their siren song. "But before... Say it."

Dendro Archon, who was trapped for all her life, looked smug. Devine came to hate that smug smile.

Like before, Nahida tilted her head. And repeated the same words.

"Where are your familiars, Holy One? Where are the ones, who helped you built this world? Who faced down armies of usurpers, battled demons, who have healed your wounds and carried your broken body across war scarred plains? Why their home, your cradle, lay in shambles?"

Devine slammed both hands against the surface of Nahida's cage. Their eyes, for a moment, lost focus. Nahida knew, that, if one of her aranaras was here, they would say, that "Marana showed itself".

They weren't a god.

They were Marana.

Corruption. Sin. Destruction.

"Wrong answer..."

The illusion, that False Creator created and wears upon themselves, was broken. And Nahida saw them. Yellowish sharp teeth. Her cage didn't let smells, but Nahida knew, that Fake's breath smells of rotten flesh.

Nahida knew, that she was safe. Irmensul will listen only to her.

And Fake will not risk it. They wouldn't want to spend their powers on taking control over Irmensul.

No powers means no illusion. No illusion means no praises, no followers, no throne of Devine.

Nahida looked Fake in the eyes. Unblinking.

Fake let out an almost animalistic roar. They breathe in, turned on their heels and stomped away.

Illusion was on again.

"I am getting impatient, child. Be a good kid, and think again. And I will let you out of the room."

Doors of Sanctuary of Surasthana closed behind Fake.

And Nahida reached out to Irmensul. Through the invisible thread. The last gift of dead Celestial.

'Safe real Creator. Don't let Demon got them.'

Irmensul branches, that were hiding remains of Celestia were still whole.

Perhaps, one day, they will help Real Creator.

__________

In a three month, The Imposter Hunt will begin.

__________

Scaramouche will do anything to secure his future position. He and his Fatui subordinates will burn Teyvat, if it means they could find an Imposter.

And, after Nahida's involvement in helping Imposter was discovered, Scaramouche will personally tear Sanctuary of Surasthana apart.

Scaramouche will get the title of an Archon. He will get Dendro Gnosis.

If only he knew, where Previous Archon has disappeared, why he can't reach Irmensul, and where Imposter was hiding?

_________

Your boat stopped at one of the deserted shores of Fontaine. Nahida tell you, that you can find help here.

The small stone flower, creation of Nahida and one of the Celestia gods, felt heavy in your bag.

It was your link with Irmensul. And with remains of Celestia. With remains of Real Creator's powers.

_______

Tag list: @withered-blossoms , @myluckymoon @cocodrilofeliz @c4xcocoa @vvyeislazzy @whisperingwinters @nervousinfluencertidalwave @ayameshu

[anxiefics]

a nameless puppet who was made to be a perfect prototype, free from all blemishes and flaws. who had porcelain skin and silky violet hair that flowed down his back. a nameless puppet who cried when he carried raiden ei's gnosis, far too delicate for the rough path that awaited him under her lead. a nameless puppet who was cast aside, his creator, his mother, setting him free, to do what he wished in the vast lands of teyvat. but cast aside before he could even be given his name. a nameless puppet who woke up, dazed and confused as to why he was suddenly in a strange place. kabukimono who was taken in by katsuragi, and was taught their ways. who met niwa, the one consoled him, and told him he was just like the others, that his lack of a "heart" didn't make him any less of a member of their community. kabukimono who performed a sword dance with katsuragi, the very same man who took him in out of the kindness of his heart. the man who kabukimono considered his first friend. kabukimono who was struck with grief when the people of tatarasuna were dying due to an unknown cause. who took off at once to the shogun, to plead for assistance for the ill workers. kabukimono who returned to a place with no katsuragi, no niwa, and none of the rest. who was ordered by dottore to stop the out-of-control furnace. kabukimono who was unknowing that he was given a device that held niwa's heart. who was lied to and said that his friend had killed someone to give him the heart he so desired. who ran off in a flurry of anger and tears, leaving the land he once could've called home. kabukimono who met a young boy, ailed with sickness, but a boy he found himself relating to. a boy who was all alone, just like him. a boy who called him family. kabukimono whose only family died, killed by the illness that had already started to overtake him, leaving kabukimono in great despair. kabukimono who was hurt from all those betrayals, his mind now tainted with anger and resentment.

kunikuzushi who was found by pierro, taken in as one of the eleven harbingers and unlocked his divine power.

kunikuzushi who was experimented on, in hopes that he could become far greater than he ever was. who wanted to rid himself of the weak, pathetic being he used to be.

kunikuzushi who then took the name of scaramouche, the balladeer, the sixth of the fatui harbingers, all because he could take more pain.

scaramouche who let dottore continue with his cruel, brutal experiments, tortured beyond belief, all for the chance that he could become a god.

scaramouche who despised those weaker than him, those who were filled with disgusting imperfection. after all, no one could compare to him! designed with no room for any flaws, no space for those hideous tears he once shed, those tears that caused him to be discarded like a piece of trash floating along the sidewalk, the breeze carrying it away.

but what's this?

scaramouche who met you. a mere mortal. a filthy human. but once who managed to crack the walls around his "heart," walls that were broken and rebuilt over and over, each one stronger than the last. yet you still persisted. he could kick and scream all he wanted, but you were still there. you with that annoyingly sweet smile that made his stomach churn in ways he didn't know how.

scaramouche who longed to rid himself of you, for fear that you would betray him like all the others. so, he pushed you away, and ignored the stabbing at his chest when he turned away from you, once and for all.

scaramouche who rose to become a god! just what he wanted! ..right? so why? why was he now falling to the floor like a limp doll? the better question, how? was he not strong enough? not worthy enough? that couldn't be! that- that was not an option! he was the greatest creation to ever exist! so why? why was he sobbing into your shoulder, drenching your cotton top with salty tears?

scaramouche who was confused. why were you holding him so tightly, so warmly? so softly as if he had never hurt you at all? why were you looking at him with the same expression as he had left you with? why was your hand against his cheek so comforting, so electrifying, so... perfect. your eyes met his, eyes that showed nothing but love. love? for him? ...really? him?

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ a/n: uh hi guys 😁😁😁

[astravv]

ꜱᴋɪʀᴍɪꜱʜᴇʀ — ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ

✰ — 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ▸ hi i really like dottore also don’t come at me if the time line is wrong bc i’m making it a two month difference between inazuma archon quests and sumeru ones. but i did try to look and see a timeline of this but i got super lazy. if someone in the comments does want to let me know how much time it is supposed to be between inazuma and sumeru bc i am genuinely curious.

✰ — 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 ▸ sexual content , eating out , fingering , cursing

✰ — 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬) ▸ dottore x f! reader

✰ — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ▸ you were the tsarita’s assistant, her right hand woman, whatever you’d like to call it. you and her had a bond since she took you in from the house of the hearth. when scaramouch rebelled against the divine, you became the next number six of the eleven fatui harbingers.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔫𝔢

two months before รςคгค๓๏ยςђє removed himself from irminsul

you enter the jester’s office, with a wide smile upon your face. you head over to the jester’s desk and stand right in front of him. since the jester is number one of the harbingers, he got the biggest office and sleeping quarters. pierro’s office was huge with his own library and chess table, where two of the gnosis were sitting, like they were being used to play chess. there was curtains and his sleeping quarters connected to his office, also a very nice and large bedroom.

“y/n,” the jester sets both of his elbows on the table, connecting his fingers together and lying his chin on the connected hands. “you have a lot of responsibility now, you are sixth of the eleventh fatui harbingers, the skirmisher.”

“yes,” you reply coldly. “you act like i barely had any responsibility to begin with. do i have to remind you that the tsaritsa herself, chose me to be her assistant?”

“like that matters, y/n.” the jester groaned. “i don’t feel like getting into this with you. go decorate your new room or something.”

you scoff and walk out of the overly large door. as you head out, a familiar voice comes behind you, following you through the hallway.

“what was that about?” il dottore asks, trying to catch up with me.

“oh just pierro being pierro.” you chuckle, heading right the staircase, but dottore runs in front of you and grabs your hand, walking you down the stairs. he steps at few in front of you on the last few steps and kisses your hand.

“y/n, my darling,” dottore smiles, “you’re officially replaced the Շђє ๒คɭɭค๔єєг, which means, will you be staying in my office?”

“if you are lucky, doctor.” you smirk, blowing him and kiss and skipping ahead of him.

“mm, if i’m lucky, huh?” dottore smiles, walking over to the large glass windows of zapolyarny palace. you head over to him, also staring out the window to the dark, cold night that fell upon sneznhaya.

“when do you leave for your trip to sumeru?” you question quietly, holding your large fatui coat over you so you wouldn’t freeze to death in the hallway which is cold as ice.

“in a few days, why? are you going to miss me?” dottore teases, cupping your cheek with his surprisingly soft hand.

“of course. who else am i going to talk to?” you roll your eyes, melting into dottore’s touch.

“you have arlecchino and columbina, darling.” he replies, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead. “come spend the night in my room, it’ll wash away all those bad feelings, y/n.”

“you’re right.” you mumble, following dottore back to his assigned bedroom.

once we got there, he opened the door, letting you in and for a few seconds you study the room. dottore’s room is a bit smaller than pierro’s. he has a lab set up and his office is very messy, with quite a few papers strung about. through the corridor where large curtains are hung up is his actual living quarters, with a big bed and lots of room for a couch and bookshelves.

dottore walks you to his living quarters and he flops down onto his bed. you roll your eyes at him, making your way to his closet to change into something you had left in his room for nights like this.

you slip out of your large coat and your outfit, putting on some small silky pink shorts and a white tank top that really showed your chest off nice.

you head over to dottore’s bed and flop down beside him.

“i really don’t want you to leave.” you murmur softly. your words really just go through one ear and out the other with dottore. but he turns to you and smiles a little.

“since you don’t want me to go, i can make tonight memorable for you.” dottore coos, pulling himself on top of you with a smirk plastered across his face.

“oh really now?” you tease, “let’s see how memorable we can make it.”

dottore wastes no time pulling up your tank top and setting his hands on your plush chest, squeezing it and teases your nipples softly.

“you drive me insane, y/n.” dottore growls, bending himself down and latching onto one of the nipples he had previously been teasing. he licks and bites and sucks on the mound, like he was so hungry for it.

“mm, dottore.” you moan, “i’m going to miss this while you are gone.”

“i’m sure you will, y/n.” dottore mumbles, shuffling himself down further between your thighs. your breath hitches as he parts your thighs, kissing your clothed cunt. he softly pulls your shorts and underwear down, throwing them somewhere off the bed. you move your hand down and slide your fingers through his soft hair, give him some soft head scratches.

he kisses your wetness and starts to eat you out, devouring every inch of you that he can take advantage of as he pleases. he licks your slit up and down, causing your legs to close around his head.

“mm, you taste so divine, my love.” he murmurs, sticking one of his fingers inside of you, slowly pushing them in and out. usually, dottore was quick with his motions of intercourse, but tonight he was taking his time with you.

suddenly, the door is pushed open, and there in his office, the regrator stands with his mouth slightly agape to what he was seeing.

“dottore?” pantalone calls out, crossing his arms and turning around so he wouldn’t be staring right at your half-naked body.

“what, pantalone? can’t you see i’m a little busy?” dottore groans, setting himself up and pulling the covers over you to hide you.

“come outside.” pantalone gestures, walking out the door, closing it on his way out.

“my god.” dottore rolls his eyes, looking back at you as he softly grabs your hand and leaves a small kiss on it. “i will be back.”

dottore gets off the bed and walks out to where pantalone is, closing the door to his room so you couldn’t hear anything they were saying.

dottore stands in front of pantalone, crossing his arms and giving him a pissed off look.

“you and y/n?” pantalone mentions. “how’s that?”

“it’s frankly none of your business, regrator.” dottore growls, “don’t tell anyone about this. we are not public yet.”

“you will be public if she keeps spending the night in your room. don’t think i haven’t seen her sneak in there at the dead of night when she’s usually asleep near the tsaritsa’s living quarters.”

“so you’re stalking her, hm?” dottore groans, clenching his hands together, almost ready to punch the banker in his face. “i don’t take lightly to stalkers, if we were subordinates or not.”

“no,” pantalone sighs, “i wasn’t stalking her. i was in the same hallway and managed to see her walk into your room.”

“how did you know she’s spending the night then?” dottore questions.

“it’s just a hunch, doctor, no need to get so serious.” pantalone replies. he chuckles a little at the end of the sentence, but dottore can tell it’s just him trying to light up the mood.

“so what did you even need me for? to see if your suspicions were correct? to ridicule me about y/n?” dottore demands, he can feel himself heating up as he spits out his words.

“no, i wanted to let you know that we’re having a funeral for rosalyne tomorrow.” the regrator answers, turning himself around, ready to walk away. “don’t be late.”

“fuck you, pantalone. i came out here to hear that?” dottore growls, he shakes his head and opens his office door immediately slamming it behind him, locking it too.

“what’s going on?” you ask softly as you sit up, staring at dottore who’s facing the door with a very angry expression.

“it’s nothing, darling.” dottore smiles, walking over to you and flopping beside you on the bed.

“we should probably just go to bed, it’s late.” you murmur, pulling the covers over your body and staring at the white, blank wall.

“i would figure so too.” dottore pulls the sheets over him and pulls you closer, wrapping him arms around your waist and nuzzling himself into your neck. “i’m sorry.”

“dottore, apologizing to me?” you chuckle, cupping his cheek with you hand.

“shut up.”

one month before รςคгค๓๏ยςђє removed himself from irminsul

“how are you settling in?” columbina’s soft voice asks over the dinner table. when columbina talks, she has this sorta creepy vibe to it, but it’s very melodic. “i know it must be different than being with the tsaritsa.”

“it’s been alright,” you reply, moving the food on your plate around with your fork. you haven’t really been the happiest lately, since dottore has left for sumeru and all of his segments are busy doing who knows what. “it’s not much different, just more lonely, i would suppose.”

“you can always talk to me if you get lonely, we’re here.” arlecchino, who is seated next to you, suggests.

“you’re right.” you nod, finally taking a bite of food.

arlecchino shoots you a small smile, and goes back to looking at columbina, who’s sitting across the table from her. everyone at the table is chatting but you. you can’t seem to swallow down your food, or even think of anything other than the fact that you feel like you don’t fit in. sure, you were raised in the house of the hearth, so you know how to fight, but you just feel like you haven’t done anything since you were promoted to fatui harbinger.

you would rather be doing something more useful during your time alone, sitting at your desk, thinking of when dottore returns. you visit the tsarista occasionally, but it’s been every now and then since you have been busy with tons of paperwork and assignments. however, they don’t give you many assignments, so most of your time is spent at your desk, pondering.

you sigh, getting up from the dinner table. you grab your plate and walk over to the kitchen, sliding your plate into the sink for the maids to clean. usually, you clean your own dish, but lately you’ve just been wanting to lay down in bed and be lazy.

you head for dottore’s room and not your own. you open the door to find the room just as he had left it. you shut the door behind you and walk over to the bed you and him usually share.

dottore told you that you probably needed to go sleep in your own assigned room, since people would find it odd to see you sleeping in the doctor’s bed without him even present.

you don’t care though, so you flop yourself down onto the comfy bed sheets and find yourself getting lost in your train of thought again.

“dottore..” you mumble. “come home soon, please.”

[wanderingxiao]

-Ownership-

Summary: After destroying a delusion factory, the balladeer finds you, and makes you his... pet?!

Pairing: Fatui! Scaramouche x Female Reader

First time ever writing Scaramouche, so please excuse if he sounds a bit OOC.

Warnings: abuse, torture, degradation, and foul language

Word Count: 3.4K

Enjoy!

Another harsh kick came to your abdomen as you hit the muddy ground harshly. Your lunch came out quickly as the partially digested food splattered to the ground beside you and trailed down your mouth. Your body ached and tingled with pain as tears endless began to flow from your swollen eyes. A hideously sadistic laugh came from in front of you, the sound almost being swallowed by the thunderstorms approaching quickly. Your eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to meet the bright clashes of purple of his eyes just like the glow of lightening. Despite not even meeting his gaze, you could feel the way his eyes bore into the back of your head.

“Awe hah… too beaten down and scared to even look me in the eyes.” A harsh grip was applied to your hair, and you were jerked up hard, enough to cause a shock of pain to shoot up your neck and down your back. Your head throbbed harshly as your blurry vision attempted to focus on the monster’s pale complexion. All you could really make out was the crescent shape of a terrifying smile and the psychotic glow of his eyes out of amusement. “Hey, I’m speaking to you. Or have I already beat the manners out of a disrespectful pathetic worm like you?” His words were sharp and precise, never missing a shot towards your heart or your brain for that matter. With the remaining strength you had left, you mustered enough salvia to spit into his face, a mixture of blood, saliva, and vomit slowly going down his left cheek. His face morphed into one of pure loathing and he knocked you out just like that.

How did you end up in this situation?

Well… long story short… you invaded a Fatui camp and destroyed a delusion factory.

Everything was going smoothly until the sixth of the eleven harbingers caught you in his puppet strings, beating you into submission and ultimately to the point of unconsciousness. You had some nerve standing up to Lord Scaramouche. He could have easily killed you, but he didn’t want to waste his breath on something as pathetic as a lowly human lesser than insects. He silently admired your courage to stand your ground against him and his terrifying power. Nothing interesting was happening currently in the Fatui, so why not take on a little pet to begin training? The thought alone made his lips curl with a familiar bubbling feeling emerge from his stomach.

Excitement.

“Rise and shine, my little pet!”

Your eyes slowly opened seeing a dim light above you, ears ringing, body numb and screaming in pain. Every breath felt like pain the moment you regained any consciousness and could feel every nerve in your body speak alive. “Ugh!” You groaned in pain raising your shaky arms to your head as you held it in severe pain. The distant and fuzzy sound of footsteps alerted you of someone’s approach. A rather short man came into your view, the large hat on his head confusing your eyes due to their swollen appearance. “Hey now, that’s no way to great your master now is it? Get up.” His words fell upon deaf ears as the pain overtook your consciousness, unable to focus on anything else by the pain in your abdomen, the throbbing of your head and the stinging on your skin. “Hurts… hurts s-so bad… c-can’t…”

“That sounds like a problem that does not concern me. Now get up before I punish you again.” Your words caught in your throat struggling to comprehend everything. The look on Scaramouche’s face was beginning to twist from excited to that of annoyance and irritability. “Now, now, Scaramouche. This is no way to take care of your things now, is it?” A man had entered the room, a dark beaked mask hanging from his face with bright blue hair. He was taller, and somehow more intimidating than the smaller man you now could call Scaramouche. “Your input is not needed or wanted, Dottore. I suggest you not stick your nose into my personal affairs or lay your hands on things that are mine.”

“Yours? Awe how romantic of you, Scaramouche.” Dottore smoothly teased him and ran his midnight gloved hands up your arm, sending a ripple of trembles up your entire body. Scaramouche growled and narrowed his eyes at him, crossing his arms as he observed The Doctor access your current condition. Despite his anger of others touching his newly acquired pet, he knew you needed to be tended to. “What has you so enthralled by a human? Her body physique is flimsy and weak, her appearance is mediocre at best despite your cold-hearted abuse. Hmm, Scaramouche?” The other harbinger hesitated briefly as he turned his gaze down towards your shallow breaths and gasps of pain. He smirked, “Her resolve is strong. She gazed upon me as if I was the most disgusting thing, she had ever laid eyes on. I want to personally break her and watch that resolve crumble and burn all by my doing.”

Dottore could only grin and him in response. He reached in and rustled around his coat before pulling out a shot full of pink liquid. He squirted it to check the pressure and ensure the syringe was secure before sticking it into your neck. Scaramouche gripped his arms as he watched The Doctor force an unknown substance into your body. His purple eyes watched as your body instantly relaxed, and your breathing slowed. “There. Consider that a gift from me as a congratulations on acquiring a new pet. Don’t break her in too harshly now Scaramouche… next time, I’ll make sure you pay me.” With that, the blue haired harbinger exited the small room the puppet had kept you in. His teeth gnashed together as he glared holes into your figure. “Hmph. Touching my things without my permission will not go overlooked.”

He huffed. “I’ll make sure you’re only played with by me.”

Your recovery from Scaramouche’s harsh assault took weeks to get over, or at least get to the point where you didn’t feel like you were about to die every waking second. He came by your bedside every day to check on your condition. The guards stationed outside the door were instructed not to enter the room or even glance in your direction, or “Lord” Scaramouche would punish them. He was strangely patient and quiet during your short interactions with him. The first day, once you were numbed up with drugs, he asked you questions about who you worked for and why you destroyed their factory. Your answers were the same every time he asked. “Burn in hell,” “Fuck you,” or “I’d rather die that speak to you.”

He was patient and didn’t spit any harsh insults at you or attempt to hurt you. He only asked you questions or occasionally brought you food, most being extremely bitter. His expression remedied stoic and emotionless during his meetings with you, until these expressions started to evolve. When you refused to answer and threw a bottle at him, he knew you were feeling better and decided to start and insult you. “Hah! Trying to throw a bottle at the guy who put you in here. That doesn’t seem very smart don’t you think?” His hand harshly slapped onto your thigh and squeezed harshly, digging his nails into your still delicate skin. You jerked up and clenched your jaw in pain, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing pain from your voice. “I’ve been patient enough with your pathetic responses, but now my patience is running thin, and when pets misbehave, they need to be taught a lesson.”

And there started your lessons from Lord Scaramouche as his personal little pet.

A black leather collar with the electro symbol adorned your neck, indicating that you strictly belonged to the Sixth Fatui harbinger. Of course, you never left his side for even a second unless he was taking trips to the abyss. He forced you to wear a tight long-sleeved shirt with a round cut up on your chest and upper cleavage with black matching tights with red outlines. All of it matched him and his aesthetics, flaunting his ownership over you wherever he went. Bruises littered your once smooth and delicate skin, black and blue with a nice purple hue peeking out. You had learned to behave for the most part, attempting to get the lesser of evils out of your new owner. However, your mind stayed resilient and strong, detesting the Inazuman man with all your being. Not even a peep of information squeezed past your lips. It was harder to break you than he thought. 

“Hah… this stupid boring paperwork is never ending. These reports from the abyss are useless anyways.” Scaramouche sighed and rubbed his temples irritated at the current situation. His large hat laid elegantly against the wall behind him, thin grey fabric gently resting against the hard walls of his room. You were sat next to him on the floor, where you belonged according to your master. Your fingers were playing with the collar wrapped tightly around your neck, giving you no room for mistakes or else it would clamp down and shut off all oxygen pathways to your precious lungs. A soft pressure was placed onto your head, causing you to flinch harshly until you realized Scaramouche was only trying to pet you. “Why so jumpy? You’ve been a good girl for me recently. Is it not okay that I reward my pet for being so good and obedient?”

“No, sir. I’m sorry. It just startled me a bit.” He only hummed in response and patted his lap lightly as he slid away from his desk. Your face soured immediately, but you reluctantly got up and sat in his lap, cheeks tinting a flush pink realizing your chest was right in his face. He paid no attention to your bashful expression and rested his head against your shoulder lightly, his cheek pressing against your boobs, silently enjoying the soft comfort they brought him. You remained silent during his short break from his paperwork, until he spoke an order. “…stroke my hair… please.” Your fingers twitched slightly in your lap at his hesitating order. You had never heard him sound so… gentle before. You rose your fingers and gently raked them through his dark indigo colored hair. A heavy sigh passed his lips as he sunk deeper into your touch. “I’m going to the abyss. You’ll be by yourself for a while. I expect to be greeted exactly like this. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.” He scoffed lightly, shifting in his chair to hug your body closer towards his, slightly picking you up to pull you closer. His face snuggled against the swell of your breasts, and he squeezed you tighter to him. “Don’t make any idiotic attempts at escape. If I find out… you’re dead.” A harsh smack came to your butt, causing you to gasp and snap your head to look down at him, hands flying up and away from stroking his hair. This caused him to send a terrifyingly cold glare at you. “Did I order you to stop?” You shook your head quickly, mumbling an apology before quickly going back to stroking his hair. He huffed and elected just to continue resting on your chest until he could finally go back to work.

The next day, Scaramouche left for the abyss, promising to bring you back something special for being a good and obedient pet.

Unfortunately, you wouldn’t be there to see it.

“I’m back.” Scaramouche kicked the door to his office open, tired, and annoyed from his trip to the abyss instead of staying beside his new pet. He hated to admit it, but you brought him comfort. You were something to call his, something he didn’t realize he had longed for. At first, all he wanted was to break you down and toss you away or better yet kill you. Either would’ve been fine with him, but you still offered resistance and hatred towards him yet obeyed and comforted him when he told you to. It felt real to him. He had unexpectedly brought back some Inazuman flowers for you, Dendrobium. A nice gift that could break your walls and let him consume your world. All he was met with was silence. Panic overtook him as the flowers crashed to the floor. “Hey… what the hell is going on? Didn’t I tell you to come greet me when I got back?!”

No answer.

His frantic footsteps searched around the room for you, thinking you could be hiding or something. Nothing. He could feel his stomach turning repeatedly making him feel nauseous. His hands trembled in disbelief, panic, and most of all betrayal. He should’ve never trusted you to be good and remain beside him. You hated him after all. His eyes suddenly landed in the black collar he had locked around you, cut off by force. There was no way you had the strength to pull that off yourself and break it. It was imbedded with powerful energy that would shock you if you ever attempted to take it off. Someone else took it off. The only person smart enough to be able to take it off you was the same man that had touched his belongings before.

Dottore.

Scaramouche jerked around and sped down the halls of the Fatui base. The sound of his heels harshly stomping to the ground was the only thing he could heart despite his heavy panting as he turned another corner. The anxiety once fueling him was replaced by pure rage as he spammed The Doctor’s lab room open. His world came crashing down once he saw your limp body on a shining metal table, your eyes were lifeless and cold. The masked man smiled as he flicked a vile of pink liquid, one of the same hue he injected you with when you first met. Multiple tubes and cables were attached to your body, your once vibrant skin full in color. His fists shook violently against his sides as he started to scream.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING WITH MY PROPERTY?!?!?!” His loud and booming voice bounced off the walls and crashed down onto your ears, making your eyes slowly open and recognize a blob of black, red, and purple. The Doctor only chuckled in response to his lessor’s sudden outburst of pure hatred. “Come now, Scaramouche. You were being too gentle with your methods of obtaining information. So instead, I did it for you.” He walked around you, your shaky hands slowly outstretching towards Scaramouche in a plea to help save you. His eyes flashed with pain as he saw you desperately trying to reach out to him. “Name: (Y/N) (L/N). Occupation: visionless adventurer. Family: all killed by the Fatui when she was just a child. Goals: destroy the Fatui. Oh! And look at this… she knows our famous little traveler we’ve been looking for. Such valuable information, hmm Scaramouche? No wonder she was so unwilling to give it to you.”

His teeth grit tightly, eyes narrowing as he approached threateningly. “You have what you want, now give her back.” Dottore looked down at you, your shaky hands still reaching out for Scaramouche. He smirked and took your hand into his as he studied it well. “D’awe… look how well you’ve training her though. Obedient to you, with so much hatred in her heart for you. And here she is, still reaching out for you.” Scaramouche was now getting impatient as he summoned a blade and gripped it tightly. “I won’t ask again. Give her back to me.” Dottore rose his hands in defeat, seeing it pointless to fight with one of his fellow harbingers. He unlocked your arms and legs and harshly removed the tubes and cables attached to your body. 

“S…Scara…m-mouche…” You voice was weak and cracked, quiet and barely above a whisper. The Balladeer approached and grabbed your hand carefully as he looked down at your tear-stained face, same as the one he saw the first day he met you. Instead of hatred, your expression now showed a desperate look to be held and protected by the man who got you into this mess in the first place. You were his property after all, he should take care of you. “I’m here.” He said softly, carefully lifting you up into his arms effortlessly as he turned to glare at Dottore over his shoulder. He clicked his tongue and began walking out with you in his arms tightly. “I will NEVER forget this Dottore… you will pay.”

He didn’t wait for a reply and carried you silently done the hallway back towards his room. Members of the Fatui looked on in confusion and fear as the most disliked harbinger walked along the halls with a deep rage filled expression. Everyone stood clear of his path, fearful to get caught in his electric crosshairs and be his victim. Once he reached his room, his kicked the door open and kicked it back close, stomping on the flowers he’d left abandoned. He made his way towards the couch sat in a lone corner of the room and laid you down gently. His eyes never left your expression, hands beginning to shake again as he watched you pant in pain and hold your chest.

“That bastard… touching my things… trying to steal them from me… defile them… YOU SHOULD’VE FOUGHT HIM!!” Scaramouche then directed his anger towards you, his voice loud and painful. Your ears were still ringing, and you could barely make out anything he was saying. He turned away from you as he continued, “All you are is a pathetic and insolent insect. A filthy human… weak… worthless… a waste of life and space.” His harsh words were drowned out by your ears as you raised a shaky hand to his face and gently cupped his cold cheeks. His head jerked towards you quickly, eyes widening in surprise seeing a soft smile on your face. The rest of his insults caught up in his throat. Your thumb rubbed gently against his skin, slowly but surely calming your breathing. “Thank you… f-for saving me, sir…”

He was speechless. You’re thanking him? After he just hurdled those insults towards you? Let you get taken by Dottore, experimented on, and ultimately did not protect his now most prized possession. “Ha… Hahaha!!” He laughed and grabbed your hand on his cheek, holding it close to his face as he enjoyed the warmth you brought to his cold body. He stared into your tired eyes, confused yet relieved at your words. “What an idiotic thing to even say, but…” his words fell silent as he gazed around your face. “Why do you find comfort in me now? I’ve hurt you, so much.” You closed your eyes, causing his stomach to drop with anxiety that you had left him. He didn’t like when you slept in general. It scared him that you would no longer wake up. “Because… despite your rudeness… I can tell… how much weight is on your shoulders… and that you genuinely care for me.”

“I own you, and I always will.”

[sockendrache]

Guys. What if the Tsaritsa was like “The Harbingers need to be a team at all costs, so I order all of you to some team-building excercises” and forces her Harbinger-children to choose some activities they want (”want”) to do together

....and after much arguing and attempts from Childe to talk them into weekly sparring-matches, they decide on playing DnD together. With the Tsaritsa herself being the DM

(pls dnd-side of tumblr, be nice to me- all of my dnd-knowledge comes from watching dnd youtube and listening to my dnd-playing friends-)

The first few sessions are an absolute nightmare cause all of the Harbingers are still in the mindset of “This is stupid, how does playing this.... childish board-game help us steal the gnoses and overthrow celestia?!” ....but after two months or so, the Tsaritsa is very pleased to see no one cancelling their weekly sessions anymore and showing up with all their character sheets and their own dice

Not because they’re having fun, of course! That would be immature.... no, they’re only doing this for her Majesty and her noble cause....! Uh, anyways....

Just.... imagine. A table full of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers, her Majesty the Cryo-Archon herself, surrounded by character-sheets, minis, dice and junkfood. And the DnD-sessions get INTENSE-

You’ve got:

-Childe, playing a Barbarian/Fighter multiclass (even though they don’t mix well- boy saw two battle-focused classes and wasn’t interested in anything else). Being the theatre-loving dork he is, he’s VERY into the whole roleplaying-aspect. He says “But it’s what my character would do” around 50 times every single session, maybe he even starts showing up in cosplay just to REALLY get into the mindset of a barbarian fighter. ....maybe his background is that of a humble fisherman who’s searching for his lost family, being the family-man he is

-Scaramouche with a Rogue, cause he was vERY drawn to the whole stealth and trickery-thing.... the Tsaritsa was overjoyed, seeing her Sixth choose a class that he felt a connection to and was looking forward to how he’d use stealth and his own intelligence to overcome obstacles... only problem, it’s Scaramouche. So he didn’t put any points into stealth, instead only intimidation and charisma. Y’all know that iconic “YOU DO NOT SEE GROG!!”-tumblr post? Yeah, that’s Scaramouche. Every time he’s asked to do a stealth-check, he just yells out “YOU DO NOT SEE SCARAMOUCHE” or some shit like that.

Tsaritsa: The guards have caught up to you, leaving you with no option to slip away. What do you do?

Scara: I turn into a tree.

Tsaritsa: .....what? You don’t know any shapeshifting.

Scara: Well, can I convince them that I’m just a humble tree?

Tsaritsa, pinching the bridge of her nose: Roll for it

Scara, rolling a Nat20:

Tsaritsa, deep sigh: The guards throw a glimpse in your direction, mumbling amongst themselves how much brighter the room looks with the addition of the new tree.

-Dottore, playing a Cleric, aka the party-healer. Every Harbinger wasn’t impressed at the thought of the batshit insane doctor being their healer. And boy.... Dottore did NOT disappoint: His character doesn’t know a single healing spell or anything of that sort. Instead, they’re a dropout that only knows necromancy. Meaning if anyone in the party gets hurt, no matter how tiny of a injury it is, Dottore’s character will straight-up unalive them and resurrect them. He’s the embodiment of “I didn’t get my medical license revoked for nothing”

-La Signora plays a Scorcerer. She’s pretty much the only player who takes the game serious, even her character’s like the handbook-version of a Scorcerer. ....asides from fireball. Every time she casts fireball, her character just throws a molotov cocktail. If any Harbinger dares to look at her funny, she just shrugs like “You expect me to use fire-magic? After what happened last time? Not gonna happen, sunshine.”

Every puzzle the Tsaritsa throws at them doesn’t involve any locked doors. The reason why? The first and last time she did, she had to sit there and listen to Scaramouche intimidate the door into opening itself.

Dottore probably built himself a pair of dice with ruin guard-parts, or some funky shit like this. they were banned, of course. not because they’re rigged, but because they had a tiny built-in laser that would just go off randomly. When asked why he would create something like this, Dottore just shrugged like “Well, I just thought it’d be nice to keep us alert.”

Pantalone just constantly tries to get rich, and he’s resorted to constantly opening like, the Tavern-version of a fast food chain everywhere they go. He managed to get the party so fuckin rich that the Tsaritsa had to incorporate inflation into her campaign to keep it balanced.

Pierro probably plays a bard or so, and the Tsaritsa was afraid he’d turn into the horny bard she’s read so much about while preparing for this whole project. But he’s Pierro, the Jester, the first Fatuus.... being just a horny bard is way too basic. He’s still constantly seducing everything in order for the party to get their way, but he’s doing it, like... classy. Like when a grandma calls her grandson handsome for doing her gardenwork or something like that.

Tsaritsa: ....My First... did you.... did you just.... tell the Mind Flayer, the vile creature who has trapped you in its lair for the past week, seperating your group with the goal to devour your brains.... that it’s “glowing”?

Pierro: Yes. Their youthful glow and well-groomed tentacles just strike respect and deep admiration into my heart.

Tsaritsa: ....*sigh* The Mind Flayer blushes, twirling its tentacles like a school girl might twirl her hair.

EDIT: The Harbingers have all been revealed now and in addition to this post...

-Pulchinella’s character is a chicken. Just a regular Chicken. It only has one attack that consists of flicking a single pebble with its beak... but the chicken is also the party monk and thus the pebble-flick does the most damage out of all of their characters. I just find the mental image hilarious of this short guy with round glasses and a beard, looking like some kinda elf-npc playing a chicken and watching with a shit-eating grin as said Chicken absolutely destroys mobs that Childe’s character is struggling with. Pulchinella, the fifth harbinger, the Rooster, hard-carrying his party with a ridiculously powerful chicken

-The Tsaritsa was starting to regret allowing Pulchinella to play a Chicken after having spent 20 minutes listening to her sixth and her fifth arguing about whether or not the chicken has to wear pants when the party was invited to a noble party. Pulchinella insisted that while it’s just a chicken, it does have proper manners (unlike a certain fighter/barbarian....) and wears a tiny pair of fitted pants, paid for by Pantalone’s tavern-business. Scaramouche on the other hand argued back that it’s just a fucking chicken, so a tiny lil bowtie around its neck is enough.

-Yes, these are two grown-ass men arguing about whether or not a chicken has to wear pants to attend a fancy party. These are her Harbingers, handpicked for the job, powerful individuals having been gifted godlike authority. Arguing over chickens.

[xinhar]

♯ Karma.

What; When your lovely boyfriend, Scaramouche, also known as Kunikuzushi, was acting like a Karma itself.

Pairing: Scaramouche, reader

Note: This is based on the Karma song by Taylor Swift but make it my interpretation. I remember him at this song lmao. This has a series(?idk) btw, but it's still wip.

Karma era | Masterlist. | next.

And I keep my side of the street clean, you wouldn't know what I mean.

It was not even halfway through the day when the Balladeer- Scaramouche's voice started lingering in the heavy atmosphere. Brash and merciless nature of his doesn't make any surprise for you. Only able to shake your head as he roasts his subordinates again, it is not unusual for that. Come on, this is Scaramouche we're talking about!

"You scums! You couldn't even do my orders properly! What even is your use here in this world!?"

His screaming only sent the lower ranks fatui in shame as they bowed their heads down furthermore into the ground. Getting lectured by the sixth of the eleven harbingers? Come on, who wants that? But the main question is, will they just receive a mere lecture? Probably yes, probably not. Scaramouche is known to have a very low temper, what he wants is what he gets, this thing.. (the lower ranks) that he calls scum doesn't stop him from getting his goal.

"I'm feeling merciful today, I might spare you. Do the task properly or die." He sent a glare at all of them and dismissed them with a snap of a finger.

Sighing, Scaramouche took a glance at your form that is unbothered, atleast, what is it outside, but the look of your eyes told him that disappointment seeping through that pretty orbs of yours. With that, he slumps and clicks his tongue, going near you as you pursed your mouth and shaking your head slowly, he sighs.

"They really existed just for me to blow up, worst case is, you witnessed all of that." Disappointed click of his tongue made you sighed, shaking you head again, you slowly lock your arm on his. Trying to soothe him while also sweat-dropping. "Those useless piece of shit, they're literally a mistake."

"Come on, Kuni, it's okay..." It's not. But this is the only reason for him to calm down and don't think about it. It's not like...this haven't been happening almost everyday, still, you felt bad at them. Experiencing your lover's wrath like that...

He glances at you and raised a brow. Seeing you sweating a little, he sighed and lean away, crossing his arms, he narrowed his eyes at you. Oh no, here we go again.

"Don't lie."

"...I just felt bad." You quickly replied to defend yourself, with that he scoffs and rolls his eyes, walking ahead, only to catch up with him and wrap your arm around his then stayed quiet.

"You shouldn't feel bad, it's their fault for messing at the first place." He grumbles and both of you walks off, him walking like he owns the whole Teyvat; you silently sighed and shook your head. "Just forget about them, you're at my presence anyways."

"Kuni..."

Scaramouche's so-called-affections are weird, although, you wouldn't comment about it. You know better than to stay audible. You wouldn't want to mess with this harbinger too, if one thing people are confused about, it's the story of how did you meet and how did you manage to tame the beast. Oh well, you wouldn't have bother meddling in his affairs.

That's the least thing you would want.

[genshinincorrectquotes]

Kazuha: You stole your mother's Gnosis?

Scaramouche: She stole my childhood. I think we're even.

[hoonnn]

The new member

scaramouche x female reader 

You are a new member of a fatui and you have been called to the balladeer's office. You dislike him and have no idea as to why everyone is so afraid of him. He's only the sixth of the eleven fatui harbingers, so what makes him so special?

You enter his office and were greeted with an already irritated face of the balladeer. You present yourself as one of the fatui's new members and you could hear him chuckle. “Do you think I care? I don’t speak to mortals like you.” Then why did you called me??

You were so enraged that you wanted to smack him in the face. Is he always this rude? Well, if most of the fatui let his rudeness slide, you certainly won't.

“Really?” you replied arrogantly, as if you were making fun of the man in front of you.

You notice him raise his brow, seemingly surprised by your response to him. “Are you mocking me? Don't you know I get violent when I'm annoyed?”

“Are you annoyed right now?” you see him narrowing his eyes and walking towards you “let's say I am” You observed how his lips formed to smirk “Would that bother you?”

“Why would it bother me?” you replied with a blank face. This man certainly puts your patience to the test.

The man raised his brows in surprise. “y-you don’t mind?” he takes a few steps closer to you, studying you carefully; you look as if you're really confident in yourself. “You’re not terrified of me? Don’t you worry about what I might do when I get upset? Or are you just that confident that you could kick my ass yourself” you can see him smirking, yet it swiftly fades into a more threatening one as he waits for your response.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

For a few long seconds, the balladeer stares at you. But he couldn't find any fear in your eyes. The way you stand, the way you gaze at him. You're not really scared at all. He despises admitting it to himself, but he really finds you interesting.

He’s lips turn into a snarl. He’s not used to being treated like this. He makes another step toward you, leaning in close and narrowing his eyes. “What?” he asks, his voice hissing “what are you trying to say? you don’t feel any fear when I look at you like this?“ he looks at you as if you're some kind of predator.

“Nope”

The balladeer blink in surprise, you said it so casually to him that it appears you don't really care who he is at all. His eyes narrow even further, yet something else lurks beneath the surface of his rage. Something… curious. Something almost… admiration?

“You are either brave… or incredibly stupid.”

He keeps staring at you, sizing you up. “You show no fear, you don’t care that I’m threatening you, you don’t run or cower…” you heard him chuckle, softly. “I am almost amused. Your completely lack of fear is… intriguing to me, It is rare to find someone who is so bold. I’m half impressed by you.”  He took another step towards you, and you were almost face to face. His lips curl into a sinister smile. Not often that he’s confronted with someone like this.

“What are you going to do about it?” you asked as if you were trying to provoke him.

“I could beat you to a pulp right now and it wouldn’t cost me a thing.” his smile widens, an aggressive, violent little smirk.

“Really?”

“You’re really quite irritating with your constant “really?”” The man frowns, yet you can see a glint of admiration in his eyes as he looks at you. You had no idea that the man in front of you was struggling with his own emotions right now as he looks at you. Despite the fact that his words are unpleasant, underneath it all, he feels like his blood is rising and his adrenaline is pounding. He is enthusiastic about you and does not understand why. Perhaps it's because you make him feel alive in some way… but how can mortals do this to him? He tilts his head slightly and smiles widely.

“Why are you smiling like that?” you can't help but wonder what's going on inside this man's mind. His moodiness keeps on surprising you for sure.

He smirk “what’s wrong? don’t you like it?” His eyes flit down to your lips and linger for just a moment. You can feel him getting closer to you. His eyes now shift from your neck, down to your jaw. The tension between you feels thick and heavy.

“And what will you do if I like it?” you have no idea what has happened to you, but you seem to like provoking the balladeer.

Your response seems to caught him off guard but it somehow made his adrenaline rush even stronger. He chuckles… he likes it. “What are you hoping I’m going to do?”

[sh1-n0bu]

hey hey!! new anon here,,

not sure how to write this but I'll try

could we get a scara x amab reader, with praise, overstimulation, and if you're comfortable body worship? (for scara ofc) i wanna make him cry 🛐

also !! can i be 🍷 anon?? <3

♡︎ 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 ♡︎

characters: sub!scaramouche x dom!AMAB!reader

warnings: praise, overstimulation, body worship, dacryphillia, overall very soft and fluffy

notes: of course you can be 🍷anon! slowly but surely clearing out my inbox and thinking on holding a 3k followers event. if you guys have any ideas, lemme know!

wanderer — formerly known as scaramouche, balladeer and the sixth of the eleven fatui harbingers — has always been a shut in type of person. always preferring his own space, solitude and of course, a bitter tea to go along with everything. so when you, his assistant since day one, had suddenly proposed your affections for the angry gremlin he rejected at first.

but that never deterred you. you would try over and over again. asking him out on dates, offering him some help, cuddles if he was being restless and stressed, holding his hand while he undergoes the painful weekly tortures of il dottore — you did it all for him.

and one day, scaramouche did indeed cave in and decided to accept your nth suggestion for a date. it wasn’t like he had liked you or anything, he just wanted to make you shut up quickly. he’s lying, he loved you way longer than you did him.

since then, going out on “dates” had become a usual thing between you two. you two would meet up in certain places, hang out for some time, talk for a bit, hold hands if scaramouche is feeling gutsy enough and say your goodbyes.

it had continued on for so long until it suddenly came to a stop when scaramouche had to go to sumeru with il dottore to take buer’s gnosis. of course the plan worked and the second harbinger came back with the gnosis but no scaramouche.

for some time after that, you seriously thought you were tripping absolute bonkers. everyone kept saying the sixth seat of the harbingers had been vacant and the name scaramouche or balladeer doesn’t ring a bell. you even held an audience with her majesty, the tsaritsa as well and yet she said she doesn’t remember!

that was until you decided to desert the fatui and go to sumeru yourself to find out just what the fuck was going on. it took incredibly long time — sumeru’s rainforest and desert aren’t the most hospitable places for someone so used to the cold like you — but after a whole half a year of searching, you managed to see him again.

him. the one who stole your heart. the one who caused you to desert the fatui despite knowing the punishment would be death. the one that cradled your heart gently in his hand since you’ve been assigned to be his assistant.

and by the archons was it worth the whole thing. to be chased down by the people who were once your comrades. to suffer heatstrokes in the hot desert of sumeru. to continuously get pelted by the rain and thunder in the rainforests of sumeru. by the archons was it all worth it when the moment you two locked eyes. it was as if your first meeting all over again.

by the archons was it worth it when he recognized you, dropping the scrolls in his arms as he runs up to you. it was worth it when he came to a stop in front of you — hesitating. waiting. wondering. before finally muttering “fuck it” and getting on his tip toes to plant a kiss on your lips. it was worth it all — even as you gently broke him down and rebuilt him again a whole new in your arms in the comfort of your now shared home.

scaramouche has always been a shut in type of person. always preferring his own space, solitude and of course, a bitter tea to go along with everything.

but wanderer was a bit different. he preferred to be alone, alone with you. a bitter tea and your voice going “yuck!” whenever he made you take a sip, lying and promising he put sugar in it this time. a shy stolen glance at each other and a peck or two followed by the silence of each other’s presence. “lonely together” you once called your relationship. he couldn’t agree more.

even as his first time is taken by you — the doll couldn’t be happier.

even as he whimpers and whines whenever you praise him, planting kisses on his skin as he blushed a beet red. weakly thrusting his hips back to meet yours under the dim lights of the lit candles. desperately reaching back, tangling your hair in his hand to tug you down for a sloppy kiss to try and hide his moans when you called him your “good boy”, “pretty doll” and your “one and only”.

a weak sob and sniffles resounding in your shared home as wanderer comes on your cock for the nth time. how many times had he cum by now? he’s too hazy and lust ridden to even keep up count.

tears kept falling down his face as he unconsciously grind back into your cock, wanting more. a cacophony of keens and moans and shrill sound resembling a squeal coming out of him as he feels your tip hit his prostate again. archons, he wanted to feel that again and again. feel himself get broken down by your hands, by your lips, by the soft praises coming out of your mouth, by your dick just fucking into him so good to the point his mind becomes a mush.

when you gently put him back together again — wiping away the sweat and cum staining his skin, when you cradle him gently as you two share a quick bath together, when you wrap your arms around him and hug him close to yourself — the pupet couldn’t help but smile.

a genuine, unadulterated smile of happiness spreading on his face as he hears your words of affirmation. in soft moments like this, the puppet couldn’t help but whisper out weakly in a hoarse voice.

“you, [name], my heart…” before slipping off into a dreamless state.

[luvzuno]

ㅤㅤㅤ꒷꒦ ❛ 国崩 ୭ৎ Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers ❜ ꒷꒦ ﾞ

ㅤㅤㅤ୧ — @221141425 ~ Reblog & Credit if using !

[lxkeeeee]

❝LUKE'S MASTERLIST❞

SCRIPTURIENT

(adj.) having a consuming passion to write

✎ᝰ Stolas | Venti x Male! Dendro Archon! Reader | Contains NSFW content

Two Archons pining over each for thousands of years, what happens if they finally got together?

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven | twelve | thirteen | fourteen | fifteen | sixteen| seventeen | eighteen | nineteen | twenty | twenty-one | twenty-two

this is currently being rewritten because the smut is making me cringe lmfao

✎ᝰ Money | Venti x FEM! Reader | University AU

This story would revolves around a certain Literature Major—I meant a BROKE Literature Major and a certain HIGH-CLASS Business Major.

✎ᝰ Orias | Xiao x Male! Hydro Archon Reader

"I heard that there's gonna be a new Hydro Archon soon" Cloud Retainer mused as she watched the former Geo Archon hummed as he drank his tea.

Zero • One • Two

✎ᝰ Intoxicated Yet Sober Thoughts | Xiao x GN! Reader | University AU

A short fic about the messy breakup between the two.

One • Two

✎ᝰ Can We Fall Inlove in the Moonlight? | Kazuha x FEM! Reader

Two wanderers meeting each other under the light of the moon.

one • two • three • four

✎ᝰ Vanilla | Kazuha x Male! Reader

The scent of nature was his favorite scent to look for especially during his travels, lately his favorite started to change into... Something sweet.

zero • one • two • three

✎ᝰ Despair | Xiao x Male!Dazai! Reader

Xiao is slowly losing his mind as he repeatedly saved a suicidal maniac from committing unalive.

✎ᝰ A day in life as a Fatui Harbinger | Scaramouche x Male!Reader | Drabbles

Daily banter between the sixth and twelfth.

one | two | three | four | five

✎ᝰ Chalk and Gold | Albedo x FEM! Reader

Synthetic Humans. One made of chalk, other made of gold.

✎ᝰ Double Take | Kazuha x Gn! Reader

Where two strangers shared a house due to a stormy night.

✎ᝰ One Kiss | Xiao x Male! Adeptus Reader

Just the vigilant yaksha being curious what being kissed feels like.

✎ᝰ 1600 Days | Xiao x Reader

Reincarnated with their memories intact. How many days have they longed and search for their significant other?

one | two

✎ᝰ Only Then I am Human | Albedo x Male!Puppet Reader

A synthetic human made of chalk, an abandoned puppet.

one • two • three • four • five

✎ᝰ Top Notchers | Albedo x Male! Reader | Modern AU

Academic Rivals.

「⸙͎」 h e a d c a n o n s

Ꮺ 5WIRL/4NEMO

▶4NEMO as angsty tropes

Kazuha, Xiao, Venti, & Heizou in HEADCANONS featuring different angst tropes. | hurt no comfort.

One • Two

▶A Misty Memory

Erased by Irminsul, will they remember you?

4NEMO | hurt with comfort.

One • Two

▶5WIRL AS OPM LOVE SONGS

Scaramouche, Kazuha, Xiao, Venti, and Heizou in different scenarios featuring different Filipino love songs!

▶5WIRL AS TAYLOR SWIFT SONGS

Scaramouche, Kazuha, Xiao, Venti, and Heizou in different scenarios featuring different Taylor Swift songs.

「⸙͎」 s e r i e s & d r a b b l e s

Ꮺ GUNITA [Scaramouche x Gender Neutral Reader]

Reincarnation AU, a barista and a flowershop owner. This is a mini series of what the two would randomly do when they hung out or go on dates.

one • two • three • four

ᏪMarried Life Shenanigans [Scaramouche x Reader]

Some stupid shenanigans the couple do, scaramouche being a good husband because I say so. Mildly spicy or actual spice.

—Fem. Version

• behind closed doors [mildly spicy, implied having sex at the end]

•husband scaramouche being a tease [mildly spicy]

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧ ─────┈⊰᯽⊱

ᏪAbout Luke

▶a broke college student,

▶education major

▶21 years old

▶she/he/they

▶genderfluid

▶down bad for scaramouche

▶genshin and honkai star rail player

▶ update sched is inconsistent

▶ favorite color is all shades of violet

▶#lxkewrites #asklxke

ᏪANONS

「⸙͎」 are open! - just send me an ask with your preferred emoji to refer yourself when sending anonymous asks<3

[gaybitchfx]

Can you do Scaramouche x Sick male reader

Reader is very sick, and Scaramouche is taking care of him

JUST, SHUT UP

Character(s): Scaramouche

Type of reader: M!Reader

Category: Fluff🥰✨

Warning(s): None

Edited: ❌

“You have to eat the soup, Y/n!” Scaramouche whisper shouted as he put a spoon close to your mouth only for you to turn your head and grumble. “But it tastes disgusting!” You shouted back only to groan because of your headache. 

“I don’t care, you have to eat it to get better. You want to get better, right?” Scaramouche said as he furrowed his brows. You looked at him then back at the spoon and exhaled. When you opened your mouth Scaramouche wasted no time shoving the spoon in your mouth. 

Once you swallowed the chunky liquid you stuck your tongue out disgusted by the terrible taste. He continued feeding you the soup till there was nothing left, and till you felt as if you’d throw it all up. 

“There, now was that so bad?” Scaramouche asked as he placed the wooden bowl on a small table near your bed. “It tasted like shit.” You mumbled and laid back down. 

Scaramouche rolled his eyes and took the we cloth that was on your forehead so he could change it. You watched him take it to a bigger bowl with cold water and submerge it in there. When he came back with the cloth, he saw you smiling at him. “What are you smiling about?” He questioned as he placed the cold cloth on your forehead making you shiver. 

“It feels nice being taken care of by ‘The Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers’. Especially by someone who’s always seen as such a serious person.” You responded with a light chuckle. Scaramouche’s cheeks grew into a tinted pink color as he looked somewhere else. 

“Just, shut up.” He mumbled as he took a seat next to your bed. “Nope, I like seeing you like this instead of you showing someone you’re not.” You smiled as you touched his cheek. He stiffened up a bit till he melted into your touch with a soft sigh. 

“That’s better, look at how relaxed you are.” You cooed and brushed a strand of hair from his face. You removed your hand soon enough with a yawn. “Get some sleep, you’ll have to eat more of that soup later by the way.” Scaramouche said making you groan with a small whine.