☆ decadence divine [ act I ]
{☆} characters arlecchino, neuvillette, furina
{☆} notes yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader
{☆} warnings yandere content, stalking (implied), kidnapping (implied)
{☆} word count 2.3k
ARLECCHINO
Arlecchino was wont to leave social gatherings to her subordinates– the private meetings were where she thrived. It was so much easier to lure your prey into a trap when you didn't have prying eyes and ears waiting for the barest hint of blackmail.
She clicked her tongue in distaste, her eyes narrowing beneath the mask of the fox as she set down her cup sharply. It was difficult as it was to draw them from the safety of their bubble– at the slightest hint of danger, her quarry would run. A chase would be fun, but she couldn't risk getting caught here. The political nightmare it would cause..it already gave her a headache. She had to be discreet.
They weren't making it easy, however.
Which is why she never liked crowds. But this chance didn't come by every day. She wasn't going to simply let it pass by because of a little danger. She'd have them eventually, it was just a matter of how. There were already numerous of her own lingering in the crowds, hidden beneath the masks that every patron bore. It was difficult to stand out amongst the flurry of masked patrons constantly shifting around the room, moving from one conversation to another, gliding from one dance partner to another.
Her heeled boots clicked sharply against the tile as she stalked through the crowds, keeping a wide berth yet always lingering nearby– she was sure they could feel the vague sense of being watched, but with the huge crowds..her lips quirked into a grin with the barest flash of teeth. There were a great many ways to break them in– she'd spent a great amount of time and mora to get anything she could for blackmail, if she so wished. She had the backing of the Fatui as well if she played her cards right– it wouldn't be difficult to convince them that they were a valuable target, and none of them would dare to question just what she did with them afterwards.
Perhaps a bit of play, first. Test the waters. She was familiar with playing the polite gentleman, despite her status as a Fatui Harbinger. Stage something for her to intervene, perhaps, to look the hero. The look of shock when she revealed the wolf beneath the wool..she could see it already. That wide, doe-eyed look as they realized the monster they've followed blindly like a lost lamb..she was beginning to see the appeal.
All it took was a few hushed words and subtle signals before the tiles started to fall in place, her hand gliding along their lower back as she leaned over their shoulder with a thin, predatory smile. She'd have to organize for the agent to be released later, her eyes following as the Gardes dragged him out of the room in a flurry of curses, but for now..she tilted her head to peer down at them, polite and almost apologetic.
"You aren't too startled, are you? Now now, there's no need to look so..scared, poor thing. I won't let another lay a hand on you," She cooed in a sickly sweet tone, the husky rasp of her voice whispered in their ear like dripping honey. "You have my word. Now, why don't we get you some fresh air? Come. Allow me to escort you."
Her lips pulled into a jagged grin at the relief in their eyes– the blind lamb following the shepherd as it led them into it's maw. Just a little longer, and she could finally have her own caged bird– a pretty thing to admire, to protect, to possess.
Something no one else would ever touch again. Something hers.
NEUVILLETTE
Neuvillette was not one for parties. The intricacies and delicate handling of public relations he oft left in the capable hands of Furina, rather then himself. It was only at her behest he even attended at all, but he still felt rather..out of place amongst the bodies constantly shifting through the ballroom like a constant rush of water from one end to the other, no rhyme nor reason to the flow. The only thing that kept him afloat among the tides was the mask of the deer obscuring his face– even if it was exceedingly difficult to truly hide himself among the crowds, most passed over him without second thought.
Though he had to be honest with himself, even if he couldn't bring himself to admit it to Furina despite her insistence that his attendance was mandatory. He had his own reasons for coming– selfishness that left a sour taste in his mouth. It was purely by chance he'd seen the briefest glimpse of them prior, and he..was intrigued, that was all.
He refused to let his thoughts linger on the sleepless nights he spent prying every piece of information he could from loose tongues and obscure documents, every moment he managed to squeeze in between trials spent lingering in their most favored locations– cafes, stores, restaurants, the like.
Now a masquerade.
He tried not to let the guilt gnaw at his conscious, but it lingered like an age old scar that still ached.
So he relegated himself to simply residing in the further corner, nursing a goblet of water like a fine wine, trying not to let his eyes stray to the brief glimpses of them through the ever moving bodies filling the center of the room, dancing like puppets in music boxes.
Still, his hand twitched in an instinctual desire– a need to clasp his hand in their own, to touch his lips upon their knuckles, to indulge in a moment of reprieve and unshackle himself from the mantle that bears heavy upon his shoulders. He seeks reverence, worship, but not of himself– but towards the one who had drawn the eye of the dragon amongst the waves of humans he'd seen come and go for a great many years.
No one could compare, he is certain. None have left him as breathless, as hopelessly infatuated, as the one who made him wish only to kneel at their feet in senseless reverence until he could no longer speak. A hopeless man, indeed, if he has never even truly met them.
Instead he's spent his time prying into their life from the shadows. Caution, or simple cowardice?
He dares not ponder.
Yet in his ceaseless pondering he'd blocked out the world without, failing to notice the figure stepping up beside him until their hand brushed against his elbow– just the briefest touch, but it had his pupils narrowing and his entire body tensing like a coiled spring. That touch..bliss. It left him breathless and lightheaded as he tilted his head to regard them, his lips parting in a shaky sigh. They are as beautiful as he remembers– even with their face obscured beneath the mask, he would never forget them.
"Greetings, Monsieur– I hope I didn't frighten you too much." Their laugh made him feel rather faint, just the sound of their voice making his hand tighten around his cane. "..Not at all. I was simply lost in thought." He admitted apologetically, trying to reign in the urge to cup their face between his palms. A dangerous thought. He didn't want to scare them off when they'd provided him a priceless opportunity.
"My apologies, you must have needed something. It was rude of me to have been so absorbed in my thoughts to have ignored you." He continued, gently turning to set his goblet down– offer them his full attention, be a gentleman. The words rang in his skull like a ceaseless alarm, blaring and rattling his thoughts as he gently took their hand in his own. It was a split second decision– an indulgence, but he could simply not help himself. Even with his gloves between them, he felt like he was going to lose his composure just from such a brief touch..
He truly was a hopeless man before an altar, praying for a salvation he intends to bury deep beneath the waves– to keep it hidden in the darkness of the depths that only he can reach. A selfish man, he must be, to even think of it, but it is an itch that he cannot scratch. A need that must be satisfied. He cannot allow any hands but his own to tend to them, to know what it feels to touch them, to hear their voice and see their eyes as he prays– prays like a man starved, devotion born of desperation.
"I hope I did not make you wait too long." He smiles, soft and affectionate, like the bloom of spring beneath the winters chill– yet just as deadly, only masked by the sweet fragrance of flowers.
He had waited too long.
No longer.
FURINA
Furina was right at home amongst the crowds– where the masks obscured the identities of most, it was impossible to not recognize the charming banter of the Hydro Archon beneath the mask of the lamb as she graced the masquerade with her presence, speaking with a silver tongue to any who would listen. A truly enthralled audience fitting for the grandest of performers in Fontaine.
But her eyes lingered not on the people who's praise dripped from their lips like honey– yet so very bitter upon her tongue. Even the mask obscuring her expression did little to hide the longing that had her visibly deflating like a popped balloon. She hated all the eyes on her, really– it was suffocating. She was only putting on a show in the foolish hope that they'd finally pay attention to her. Just her luck, she supposes, that instead she's had to throw herself straight into the role of Archon without a pay off..
They hadn't even spared her a glance! It would be infuriating if not for the fact she couldn't even keep her composure just seeing them across the room. They didn't even have to look at her and she could feel the heat rush to her ears as she forced another smile at the crowd gathered around her. It was unfair how easily they could fluster her without even knowing it– her heart was thumping so hard against her ribcage she felt like it might burst.
Her only solace was the fact none of the patrons seemed to realize she'd clocked out of the conversation, her thoughts and eyes lingering on the distant figure– what a lovestruck fool she makes..it was a chance encounter she'd seen them during one of her outings. That was all it took to enthrall her, evidentially, try as she might to have ignore it for months.
They never left her mind for longer then a day, in the end, and she had to face the fact they had managed to enrapture her so deeply she felt like a newborn lamb learning to walk whenever she so much as thought of them. What an embarrassment! She..she was the Archon, she had a reputation to maintain, she couldn't be seen fawning over a human.
But oh, she still longed for it, beneath the veneer of a God. She'd watched them more times then she'd admit even to herself, wishing to find herself in place of those who'd hands were cradled so casually in their own– to hear their voice, their laughter, as often as she pleased..like a fine delicacy she so badly wished to taste, yet so far from her reach.
Would they think her pathetic for her infatuation? She pursed her lips at the thought, trying to bury the sour mood beneath her faux image of the Archon. Yet it lingered, and with only the quietest of excuses, she slipped into the crowd like a ghost– she needed to leave before she did something..stupid. Neuvillette would surely have a few choice words with her if she did, and she was inclined to avoid such a fate.
She..she just needed a moment to collect herself was all. That was it. She could go back to playing Archon for a little longer, she just needed a moment to herself. At the very least, the balcony had been regarded as off limits so late into the party– which gave her an opportunity to slip out of the public view for the briefest of moments. A welcome reprieve– she was starting to feel suffocated amongst the crowds.
Perhaps on instinct, she reached for the mask, lifting ever so slightly away..only to let out a startled yelp at the touch of a hand on her shoulder, the mask slipping back into place far too easily. It made her lightheaded, even now, but she dared not to dwell on it.
But when she turned sharply on her heel to chew out the person who'd followed her and had the gall to scare her..oh, she was done for, her ears flush with heat. The brief glimpse of their eyes beneath the mask, the curl of their lips as they smiled– her heart stuttered in her chest, and she was certain it had stopped all together when they clasped her hand.
"Y–you.." She wanted to be angry, to brush them off and leave with her rationality in tact, but the warmth of their hands on her skin rendered her speechless. She was no better then a fish on land, struggling to fill her lungs with air as she drew in a shaky breath. "Ahem, you caught me off guard. That's all. Surely you do not make it a habit to sneak up on people?" She huffed in indignation, trying to mask the fluster that threatened to break through her carefully crafted facade.
Ah, what a cruel twist of fate..she'd slipped away to escape their allure, but here they were, dragging her back into their orbit without even knowing how deep her infatuation ran. They were alone, too..it was a chance she wasn't sure she'd ever get again.
Maybe, just this once, she could do something for herself rather then everyone else.
She buried her guilt, the fear– buried it beneath the need to be seen.
"But if you want to make it up to me.."
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okay but a fic following tommy in jackson as he watches sarah’s look-alike grow up and have her baby. maybe he develops his own relationship with this girl and her kid, and it helps him deal with losing sarah??????? perhaps????? stay with me!
like we see how hard it was for joel to see her just once in 1x06. assuming tommy’s been in jackson for years, which i do, he has probably watched this young woman grow into an adult, getting struck with that pain of distant familiarity every single time he sees her. i imagine it would lowkey torture him until he truly confronts his grief over sarah and the life she could’ve lived
and imagine when she—im gonna name her kiara bc i hate when characters don’t have names—gets pregnant. tommy has to watch as kiara’s belly gets bigger and bigger, watch as the jackson community frets over her hand and foot because jackson takes extra special care of it’s pregnant residents, watch from the sidelines as kiara gets a future that sarah will never have while looking just like her
but THEN maybe he gets to know her a little bit???? maybe kiara knows he does housework and eventually asks maria if anyone can help fix-up and baby-proof her little two-bedroom house to prepare for the little one. maria knows tommy would be the perfect man for the job, but she also knows that he keeps careful distance from kiara on purpose
she sees the way his shoulders tense and his easy expression drops every time she’s in his line of sight. she saw how one time, when kiara had come over to talk to maria while she was sitting with him, tommy could barely handle looking at her up close: he ended up staring at his plate and clearing it—even the squash medley, which she knows he fucking hates—until he had reason to leave the hall completely.
but there truly is no one else she would rather help kiara; the only other person that does housework as good as tommy is fuckin jacob, and jacob is seth’s best friend, which means he’s a lowkey bigoted asshole that will only do “favors” for maria if he gets something in return. she, frankly, doesn’t want him anywhere near kiara. so maria still talks to tommy about it, and because he’s the most selfless loving man she’s ever met, he agrees. they talk about backup plans and what tommy should do if he gets too triggered—they’ve been working at distress tolerance and detecting when his mind is going fuzzy, so he knows to get straight to their home and wait for maria when it happens. privately, maria talks to kiara and tells her that tommy is still dealing with some stuff that triggers him and might need breaks once in ahwile; she knows to go get maria immediately if this happens
so tommy helps kiara out, and along the way they get to talking and being more friendly with each other. kiara reveals that she’s extremely nervous to be a mom, that she’s doing it alone (the asshole that was with her split jackson when he foundnout because men still be menning in their apocalypse). she tells tommy that she’s never been more scared to do anything in her whole life, and she lived alone as a young girl in FEDRA-run QZ
and suddenly, tommy realizes he has had almost this exact conversation before. with joel. he remembers standing by and watching joel freak out over baby-proofing their place, raving and ranting: how am i supposed to do this, tommy? we have too many fucking cabinets—look at all of these fucking cabinets! aye, im gonna ruin her. and tommy had been speechless in the face of all that fear. he knows how scared they both were, and he knows what he would’ve wanted to hear then, too. with the gift of time and wisdom, he finally knows what to say
so he comforts kiara, and by some miracle, it actually works. he tells her about joel raising sarah alone, and how terrifying it all seemed, right up until she actually got to them: he tells her how all that terror turned into love the moment he held that little ray of sunshine in his arms. he tells her about how sarah used to be what he and joel called a boo-boo magnet, constantly falling over and knocking into shit, always having bumps, scrapes, and bruises as a result. most importantly, he told kiara, she was always just fine: as long as she felt loved, sarah was always just fine. kiara’s baby would be just fine, too
and this convo changes kiara’s whole perspective, her whole vibe. tommy see’s the difference in her now, when he spots her in the dining hall or walking across town with a hand on her belly, tense with excitement instead of anxiety. he feels the difference in himself, too: he’s no longer struck with the abstract pain of remembrance as he sees her, now. he just feels honest friendship, true familiarity, and a rush of fond protectiveness for her that reminds him of the way he felt for sarah. it doesn’t hurt, or at least not the same way. it feels good, knowing kiara as kiara, not as the ghost of his niece. it feels right
she always makes sure to stop and talk to him when they cross paths, asking him about his work around town (or teasing him about he and maria, because at this point they’re trying to keep it lowkey but. kiara knows. talia knows. half of jackson suspects it and kiara wants the inside scoop okay so SPILL tommy just tell me!!!!!). somehow, tommy has developed a good relationship with the girl he thought he’d never have the guts to speak to
when kiara is on her last couple weeks of pregnancy, mostly bedridden and definitely ready to give birth, she asks tommy to stop by once every few days to have lunch or dinner with her. it always suprises him, but he always goes. they talk mostly about raising children: how different it seems to be post-2003, how scared kiara still is even despite her new confidence, how tumultuous sarah’s first few months were. he realizes, later, that he hasn’t talked about sarah this much to anyone but maria since she’s passed. he finds their conversations ease the ache in him more than avoiding kiara ever could’ve
when kiara has the baby, tommy accidentally becomes a quasi-godfather-uncle-grandparent without even having been asked. it’s clear that, from their time together, kiara is very fond of him—judging from the way her baby, kelsey, always settles down and stares at him in wonder whenever he’s around, it’s clear she likes him too. when kelsey becomes old enough to smile, she’s never ever around tommy without grinning and giggling, enamored by his silly face and silly voice and silly mustache, which she’s always trying to pull off. when kelsey becomes old enough to walk, kiara can’t bring her anywhere near tommy without the toddler trying her best to baby-sprint over to him. more than once, she’s fallen smack-down onto her face and gotten right back up, arms outstretched to tommy as she continues determinedly to toddle over. when kelsey becomes old enough to speak, she’s constantly calling for him and babbling to him when kiara finally brings her over. kelsey can’t even really pronounce her t’s until she’s three, so for awhile she calls tommy “mommy,” and kiara thinks it’s hilarious. she’s called mama anyway, so it doesn’t really matter to her that her baby calls this semi-random grown man mommy. everytime, it makes tommy want to simultaneously laugh and cry
by the time joel shows up, kelsey is six and not-so-obsessed with tommy anymore. her and kiara still join him and maria for dinner at least once a month, and kelsey has distant memories of calling tommy mommy, then uncle mommy, then finally naming him tim-tam-tommy when she turned four, the nickname for him that still stuck. he thinks about warning joel about her, when they talk in the bar, because he sure as hell could’ve used a goddamn warning—but the conversation goes left, so they never get there.
when joel sees kiara and kelsey for the first time, it’s hits him as hard as it once did tommy
tagging @ameerawrites because i feel like u always indulge in tommy trauma brainrot with me and @clickergossip bc this idea started on tommy day :)
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