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gabriel-xander · 6 months

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I Wish You Died Instead Ch. 1

[Scaramouche x Fem!Reader]

A/N: I started writing this before all of his lore came out/Before the last Sumeru Archon quest, so there will be a handful of inconsistency later on. My advice to you? Just go with it!

Summary:

You hate working for the Fatui. You hate working for Scaramouche. And you just… hate Scaramouche.

He's two-faced, incorrigible, insensitive, and has an atrocious personality. Unlike yourself, he enjoys hurting others simply because he can. You know he only recruited you because he believes you have the potential to be a killer. You didn't join the Fatui because you wanted to, you joined because you needed the resources. You don't want to be turned into a weapon, but Scaramouch didn't care.

You really… really hate him.

{Also on Quotev, AO3, and Wattpad under Gabriel Xander}

Chapter 1: Oh, Lore?

You smoothly fix your mask over your face when you cool off enough from the strong breeze. It was pretty stuffy in that Fatui mask despite the weather being colder than Tsaritsa's taint 24/7, you never liked wearing it. But you had no choice but to follow the regulation of keeping your uniform in check.

"[L/n]."

You look up from the report you were reading, your fellow agent was towering over you since you were sitting on a rock.

"What is it, Kazuki?" You mutter, closing the folder to hide whatever was inside.

It's not like you didn't trust Kazuki: he was the only one you could trust considering he was your best friend. But you two weren't in the same department, and you rather not expose him to the danger you had to deal with. He was special to you like that.

The pale man offers a ghost of a smile, "May I sit with you?"

You snort unattractively, "Sure, be my guest."

The rock wasn't even big enough for your ass, but maybe that was Kazuki's plan from the start. Scooting over so you're practically just sitting at the edge, the black haired agent carefully sits next to you on your conquered rock island.

You let out an undignified squeal as Kazuki's body manages to shove you off the rock. He quickly grabs your arm and pulls it against his body so you don't fall. You had to drop the report on the snow so you could steady yourself against the rock. Both you and Kazuki were laughing like morons, luckily that the other agents were inside where it protected them from the Snezhnaya weather.

"Moron," You chuckle, already feeling warm from where you and the other were flushed together, "What do you want? I don't have Mora."

Kazuki was a tall man, taller compared to the majority of people anyway. And since you're probably the one of the few people who's seen him without his Fatui mask, you can confidently say that Kazuki was, unfortunately, very attractive. His pale skin was close to perfect, minus the horizontal scar on his left cheek. His black hair was pushed back, at the front and center of his hair was pink.

His eyes were an extremely light shade of brown, almost giving it a gold hue. Though because of this, it made his tadpole pupils easily visible. This is where the pupils take an oval-like shape, though in Kazuki's case, they almost look sharp at the end.

His deep voice brings you out of your thoughts, "I don't want anything. I just wanted to check up on you since you're out here alone. I know you hate Snezhnaya weather so..."

"Aw, am I that special to you?" You tease, letting your guard down just a bit.

"Absolutely not. Go perish."

You groan, "Speaking of doing shit that seems shitty, how's it like working for Lord Tartaglia?"

The male agent sharply shakes his head. Clear message: change the subject.

"Well, if it's any consolation, Lord Scaramouche doesn't remember I exist," You add lamely, "I really think my recruitment was a mistake on his part."

Kazuki shakes his head, "I don't understand why you joined the Fatui to begin with. This is no place for someone like you."

"And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"That you're too soft."

"Oh." That's pretty much true so you can't even say anything! "I didn't wanna get chosen by Lord Scaramouche, but apparently he thought I was most suited for his field since he commands the Skirmishers."

Kazuki raises a brow, "And how do you know that?"

"Well... Do you remember three months ago, the night of our personal recruitment's to the Harbingers?"

——

You wouldn't consider yourself talented in anything or skilled in areas that are remarkable. But you do pride yourself in being able to sweet talk your way into and out of situations, and your invisibility. Not that you're dIfFeReNt AnD qUiRkY and no one ever notices you, but you're an absolute fucking master at sneaking into places you do not belong in.

It's not often that Harbingers will recruit for direct subordinates, so when you (and Kazuki) were given the chance, you put on your best show in hopes of attracting the attention of a low ranking Harbinger.

That's right, you wanted to work for someone like Il Dottore. He's a researcher, and in your opinion, the most pacifistic department. You also heard he's not fond of Vision-wielders, so you thought he would've loved to have someone like you.

But no.

That's not what happened.

You knelled down in front of the door that led into Scaramouche's office, taking a long, thin, metallic tool from your pocket. You stuck the tool into the lock and began to twist and turn the device to pick at the door.

You're probably expecting some deep lore for the reason why you're a lock-picking master, but honestly you just learned it to impress your friends when you were a kid.

Anyway, you don't have a Vision, and honestly you're grateful for that. You've seen what happens to those who's Visions are taken away or destroyed. And if your own personal research has made you learn anything, you're not too eager about being granted into Celestia.

You openly displayed disgust when the recruitment reports. You, along with a handful of other brutish Fatui agents, were selected to be direct subordinates of the Balladeer: Scaramouche, Number Six of the Fatui Harbingers.

Not only that, he appointed you as his second in command simply because you're quiet (around him).

You bit your tongue from cheering out loud when a familiar click came from the door. You pulled the tool out and stuffed it back into your uniform. You quickly stood up and opened the door, slipping inside and quietly closing it behind yourself.

You sighed in relief when you didn't see anyone in the room. Perhaps it was extremely reckless to not check before entering, but that was just a flaw you needed to work on. Noticing the stack of folders on Scaramouche's plain desk, you quickly made your way to the other side of the room.

——

"YOU BR-" Kazuki quickly lowers his voice to a whisper, "You broke into Lord Scaramouche's office?!"

"Yeh."

"Holy fuck. How are you not dead?!"

"Let me finish."

——

Each folder was plain and unmarked, you had to open each one and skim for your name to find your folder. There were so many folders, and from what you gathered, three folders belonged to one person. One for their medical/physical information, one for their specialty, and if they wielded a vision or not, and the last one was personal information about the person's detailed background.

You weren't interested in anyone else other than yourself and Kazuki, and Scaramouche wouldn't have your friends' folder, so you only searched for your own.

Skimming through the first files for your name, then separating it three at a time, you begin searching more frantically when you start reaching the bottom and you've yet to see your report.

Maksim, Ivac, Andrei, Lena, [L/n- That's mine!

On the fucking bottom of the pile were your reports, no doubt Scaramouche did that on fucking purpose.

You organize the other folders neatly as they were before, leaving yours out to read it.

[Y/n] [L/n]

Female

[Height]

[Weight]

——

"Ugh," Kazuki scrunches his nose, "If I ever go missing, do not put my weight on the missing poster. I promise I won't come back."

——

[Eye Color]

[Hair Color]

Agent 241100

You shake your head and check your specialty folder. You don't think you can see how much the Fatui knows about your family, it might break you.

You skim through the folder to the last page where you see notes written in a different font and color. You're pretty sure this is Scaramouche's own notes on your person.

Wields no Vision, yet she is exceptionally more talented and stronger than the other incompetent agents who do wield Visions. She uses a Claymore, but is surprisingly fast with her attacks and just as powerful. I've heard she wants to be on a researching branch, or a collector, or something of the sorts. But that will be a waste of talent, which is why I recruited her before that idiot Childe could. The brat hesitates with harming the others during training, no doubt it will become a liability later on. But with enough exposure, she could become the perfect killer and wea-

"And what do you think you're doing?"

You slam the folder closed and spin around to face the door since your dumbass had your back towards the entrance.

You widen your eyes, just realizing that you forgotten your mask with Kazuki in the main room where other agents just fuck around.

You grin nervously, "I... Lord Tartaglia...!"

——

"HOW ARE YOU NOT DEAD, [Y/N]?!" Kazuki shouts too close to your ear.

You frown and rub your ear against your shoulder, "Well, stop interrupting me, Nao, and I'll tell you!"

"Fine."

"Fine!"

——

"What are you doing here?" Tartaglia crossed his arms, an expression mixed with a smile and a scold, "You are aware this is Scaramouche's office."

"Wh-uh, w-what are you doing here, hm? Lord Tartaglia?"

You messily shoved your folders under the pile since you were doing it behind your back. You're sure Tartaglia wasn't blind to it, considering he was fucking looking right at you.

"You must've picked the lock, the door wasn't all the way closed," Tartaglia amused you, "Now, explain yourself. I'd hate to have you executed for treason."

"Treason? Isn't that a bit uh-an overreaction?" You bit the inside of your cheek, "I-I just wanted to check why Lord Scaramouche chose me as his direct subordinate. I'm not a Skirmisher, and I did my best to make it perfectly clear that I wanted the most pacifistic branch..."

You turn your gaze to the side, silently referring to the folders behind you on the desk, "I have no other motives, I just wanted to know why the Archons have forsaken me."

You hear a soft puff of air from Tartaglia before the sound of footsteps. You keep your gaze down, knowing better than to look a Harbinger in the eyes.

"Does Scaramouche explain why he recruited you?" Tartaglia asked as he stopped by your side, nudging you to move so he could look at the files.

"Yes, sir. Well, I think so? Something about how he can turn me into a weapon and a killer if the fucker traumatizes me enough," You scoffed.

"Ha-ha! Is that so?"

"Oh!" Shit, you forgot who you were talking to, "I-I mean-I'm so sorry! I mean no disrespect towards Lord Scara-"

"-No, don't worry about it," Tartaglia said dismissively as he picked up your folder from the bottom, "He's certainly unpleasant, I'll give you that. Where are his notes?"

"Second folder, last page."

Tartaglia follows your instructions, grabbing the folder and opening it to the last page. You keep watch of the door, watching and listening for any intruders since Tartaglia didn't bother closing the door. You're sure he did it on purpose so if Scaramouche does come in, the blame would quickly fall on you.

Fucker.

"Interesting. You're a skilled fighter, [L/n]?" Tartaglia mused, "And you hid this fact from me? How rude."

"I'm not-" You felt your eyelid twitch, "-I don't like fighting. That's why I hope to be recruited by someone lame like Lord Dottore. Or even you, so I can just collect debts."

Tartaglia hummed quietly for a moment. You push yourself off the desk, stretching your arms above your head. You're actually preparing yourself to die right now. You disrespected not one, but two Harbingers in front of Tartaglia, got caught breaking into a superior's office, and you didn't even properly greet Tartaglia like you were supposed to.

You're honestly surprised to have lived so long anyway.

"Well, get out of here already," Tartaglia picks up your second folder to read it, not bothering to look at you, "If you leave now, you won't get caught."

You blink in surprise, "I... Lord Tartaglia-"

The ginger finally looks at you with a grin, though it doesn't reach his eyes. Later you learn that it never does.

"-Leave, before I throw the blame on you and say you picked the lock."

You bow deeply in gratitude, "Thank you, Lord Tarta-"

"-Childe."

"...Yes, thank you, Lord Childe."

——

Kazuki whistles loudly, "Wow..."

"Yep," You cling to Kazuki's arm as you pick up the report you have dropped, "And I guess he kept his word since I'm still alive and Lord Scaramouche hasn't said anything to me yet."

Kazuki suddenly stands up, causing you to fall off the rock and land in the cold snow.

"You fucker! You couldn't give me a warning?! This is why I have trust issues, Nao! You have any-"

"-Let's go inside, [Y-er, [L/n]," Kazuki's tone is suddenly more monotonous as he reaches his hand out, "I actually came out here to get you. Lord Scaramouche requested for you."

"You motherfucker."

#fanfiction #reader insert #geshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #female reader #scaramouche #genshin impact scaramouche #original character #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact wanderer #wanderer #wanderer x reader #short story #i dont know how to tag on tumblr #im doing me best #IWYDI Fanfiction

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grievousdearu · 1 year

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Chance Meeting Under the Bridge

I pointed to the small, visibly stale loaf of bread on the front of the counter while handing over eight copper pieces.

“Missy, that’s gonna be ten copper, not eight,” the ragged old man behind the counter told me.

I don’t like talking to people anymore, so I just sighed and pulled out the other two copper pieces I had left and gave them to him.

“Don’t eat it all in one sitting, you’re liable to make yourself sick,” he warns me and hands me the bread.

It felt like a soft stone, but I hadn’t eaten today yet, so I didn’t really care. I turned around and walked off with my late lunch, following the path I take every time to the bridge I always go to.

I don’t even know why I like that bridge, it’s noisy whenever someone goes over it- however infrequent that may be; and it smells like a dead wet rat when it rains.

All I know is that it’s not home. It’s not the place where I go looking for mama in the morning; only to not find her. It’s not the place that smells like cinnamon, even when she’s been gone for days at a time.

I sit down, realize I’ve started crying again, and wipe away the little moisture forming in my eyes.

“…not again…”

I take a deep breath in, lower my hood, and start picking away at the bread piece by piece. I know it’s not worth getting this worked up over; it happens every time I think about why.

A couple of weeks ago, mama started leaving the house really early in the morning, and I don’t know why. I still feel sick every time I think about the first time it happened. I panicked because I didn’t know what happened to her. When she finally came home later that day, I was on the bed holding onto my knees, rocking back and forth.

All she did after that was hold me. No explanations as to where she went. She didn’t even say it wouldn’t happen again.

She just held me.

And that’s what scared me the most.

Mama always told me everything. She was always there to tell me what was going on, always showing me what things did, and how to avoid being laughed at by mean people.

Everything.

I don’t know what changed, but it scares me.

I remember where I’m at as the bridge creaks as I hear someone walk over it- though it’s odd; it sounds slower than normal. I try to ignore it and eat more of my bread, but something feels wrong. The creaking stops and I lean back against the wall.

I just want to eat.

“...Cinnamon bread?”

The sudden appearance of a blue and brown hooded figure over the side of the bridge startled me so much, I reflexively threw my bread into the stream and staggered to put my hood back on. I huddle against the wall, trying to shield myself.

“Whoa!” The young-sounding boy’s voice shouts as I hear a flop on the ground, “Horns!”

Why did he have to see them? Now I’m going to have to run home and hope he doesn’t chase me like what happened two weeks ago.

But what I heard right after that was something I’d never heard before.

“That’s awesome!”

He’s joking, right? Surely he’s just trying to be sarcastic and draw me out so he can pull on them or something. I check over my shoulder to see what the boy does next.

“Can I see them again?!”

Yeah. That’s exactly what he’s doing. He’s just wanting to taunt me just like everyone else. Now I can’t even take off my hood here? The only other place I thought I was safe taking it off is now gone.

“Hey, why are you shivering? It’s not cold,” the boy licks his index finger and puts it in the air, “...is it?”

Think.

Stop and think how to distract him so I can run.

“Hey, are you okay?” I hear him getting closer to me.

Stop sounding like you’re trying to be sincere. I know you’re not.

He stops just a few steps behind me.

I close my eyes and brace myself for the beating I feel coming.

But there isn’t one. All I hear now is… sniffing?

“…You smell nice,” I hear him say behind me.

What that boy said caught me off guard so much, I finally turned around to face him.

“Cinnamon?” He asks with his head tilted up slightly, smelling the air around us.

In response, I can’t help but just sit there and stare at the boy that’s standing over me.

This is wrong. Thisfeelswrong. Why isn’t he trying to hurt me like everyone else? Why won’t he just spit on me and then go away? At least if he did that I wouldn’t have to be constantly worrying about what he’s going to do next.

“Was that cinnamon bread you threw away?” He once again asks me about cinnamon. I know exactly what’s making him think that, and part of me hurts inside after thinking about it, but I brush it off as less important than the boy stood behind me.

“…Go away,” I try to quietly shoo him away and turn my head away from him.

“But you lost your bread, right?” He points towards the stream where the bread is now disintegrating.

“I said go away,” I try to shoo him again. I try speaking up, but I still can’t bring myself to speak louder than a low conversational voice.

“But I made you throw away your food, I should at least repay you for that,” he says as he reaches into his pocket. I reflexively flinch thinking he’s going for a knife, but he only pulls out a stick of dried meat.

“Here,” he holds it out to me.

I stare at the bland-looking thin stick of dried meat before mustering the courage to speak up again.

“I’m not stupid, I know it’s poisoned,” I shove his hand away.

“It is?” He asks, putting it up to his nose, and licks it. “It doesn’t smell or taste poisoned,” he pauses, “I think so, at least?”

I once again look at him, but I try to figure out what he’s getting at this time. I still don’t let my guard down though; I’m not sure if he’s either clever by trying to get me to relax, or if he’s really just this dense.

I hear the distant rumble of an approaching thunderstorm, which distracts the boy long enough for me to try making a dash for home. I don’t get far before I trip over my hood, which had been blown under my feet by the wind.

And it falls off.

“So they were horns!” He exclaims after seeing me without my hood. I rush to cover them with my right arm while I scrounge for the red hood.

“So then what are you going to do, tug on them?! Was that what you were after?!” I shout in panic.

“No, I just wanted to look at them,” he says as he sits down where I was before, “they look cool.”

“Stop trying to make me look stupid!” I shout at him again.

“That’s not what I was doing,” he says as he sticks the dried meat stick in his mouth and chews on it. “I don’t see things like that often, so I just wanted to look.”

“…I don’t believe you,” I say as I finally tie the hood back around my head.

“Why not?” He, for some reason, innocently asks.

“Because everyone else does mean things when they see them, why would you be any different?!”

“Wait,” he stands back up and faces towards me, “people really get mean when they see your horns? That’s dumb.”

I finally understand; this boy is just dense. I hesitantly relax my shoulders after I come to the conclusion he’s not likely to do anything to me.

Not yet at least.

“You sure you don’t want a jerky stick?” He asks as he holds out another stick.

“I’m fine,” I fidget with the small pebble I had in my hand as I try to hide my nervousness.

“Suit yourself,” he bites off a chunk of the meat stick and chews on it. After a few seconds pass, I start to hear the soft trickle of rain hitting the ground. “Well, I probably should get going. Dad’s probably wondering where I went,” he says as he stands up, “See you later,” he waves as he climbs back up the creek bank and back onto the street.

I can’t bring myself to return the wave to him, but… something felt weird about him

I also can’t help but wonder if I’m going to have to find a new place to hide to eat outside the house again, now that that boy knows where I am.

Assuming he doesn’t forget about it before the sun’s even down, at least…

#original work #i dont know how to tag on tumblr

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