eye... i was never expecting this to blow up the way it did, but THANK YOU FOR 4000 NOTES EVERYONE!!!!! im glad you all enjoyed noodle dish scara this much TTTTTTT
veneration.
PAIRING: scaramouche x reader
GENRE: canon-compliant. belligerent romantic tension, flirting but not quite flirting, the trope of helping the other get ready for an important event.
TW/CW: slight spoilers for 3.2 archon quest (although it was literally revealed in the livestream so idk if it counts as spoilers).
A/N: boo, I'm alive (sort of.) I can't believe I'm writing for emo pinocchio, much less simping for him (yes, @x-zho and @byeol-ssi you read that correctly),,,, but HEY IF THIS DRABBLE GETS ME OUTTA BURNOUT DEPRESSION Y NAT COCONUT
"How fares your one follower, Lord Harbinger?"
The Balladeer pauses in the middle of what he's doing, a tangle of energy tubes falling around his ankles like an undignified noodle dish. Your voice is carefully, perfectly even, your eyes steadily fixed on your book as if nothing was the matter.
"Haypasia? Well, she's the first of many to come, so of course she is someone of great prestige in my eyes."
He enjoys the faint flicker in your eyes, choking back a taunting smile as your grip tightens on your book. To say that he held affection for you would be staunchly denied, but there was nothing Scaramouche delighted in more than to wear your nerves out.
"As she should be. Never forget the service she has done you, sir."
"And what of the service you owe me?" He retorts. "I don't recall summoning you here just so you could sit and recite pretty words to me while I do all the work."
An exasperated sigh and a slight rustle as you get up from your chair, followed by the echoing sound of your footsteps as you began climbing the stairs to the head of his soon-to-be divine vessel. "I had assumed that you wouldn't want my assistance until I was called for."
"I'm sure Haypasia would have willingly volunteered to assist me." Scaramouche remarks idly, tracing a finger along the polished metal. "When it comes to loyalty to me, I'm sure that that girl is second to none."
Silence, just as expected. Your face is pristinely neutral when you reach the top of the stairs and place the book on the floor, but he knows better; he knows how the blood surges in your veins in not-quite-jealousy, how the air catches in your throat at the thought of someone being better devoted to him.
Up until now, the Balladeer had had a hard time finding an edge over your nonchalant nature, with any sharp jabs left blithely ignored or rebutted, with no room for nonsense— for out of all the people who dared test their bravery by working with him, you were one of the few who had remained mostly unaffected by his short temper.
But with a certain researcher in the equation, it seems that he had a new — and most entertaining — way to push your buttons.
"You shouldn't have tangled up the tethers like this, sir." You kneel down to untangle the mess of cables at his already-tethered feet, your hair falling forward to conceal your face. "The Doctor would not be pleased if something were to malfunction tomorrow due to something as minor as this."
He stands stock-still as your hands trace along the length of his arm, searching for where to attach the cables to his wrists and shoulders, your fingertips brushing against his back as you check for any loosened tethers; to an outsider, it would seem that you were merely performing the duties of a faithful assistant. But every move and word was choreographed, designed to bring out your true intentions under the guise of professionalism.
"Tell me," The Balladeer asks, a taunting lilt to his voice. "What sort of book are you reading that distracts you from my glory?"
"Just something I picked up in the Grand Bazaar." You reply, and soft hands brush against the sides of his neck, reaching to safely tether him to his vessel. "A book of short essays and poetry, written by some obscure but well-read author."
"What sort of poetry?" Scaramouche keeps his gaze locked on yours, pretending to be unaffected by the way your arms enclosed the air around him, the close proximity between the two of you. The fun part of the game was to never reveal your hand of cards, after all.
"The usual; some about life, or loss. The seasons, and some about places the author had been to." Your eyes briefly flicker to meet his. "Love poems, too."
He cannot help but smirk, knowing full well at what you were playing at; the two of you had an unspoken agreement, a mutual push and pull as you aimed to tear each other's heartstrings out and have the other dancing in the palm of their hand. "Care to recite one, then? I'd like to see if you can actually spew pleasant words for once."
"If that is what the Lord Harbinger wishes," was your response, your gaze drifting away to focus on adjusting the tethers on his hands and wrists one last time. "There is one piece that I particularly enjoy; allow me to retrieve my book so that I may read that to you."
You were clever— he had to admit as much. This very well could have been your plan all along, to grab his attention with a book that you were certain would make an impression on him; he would not put it past you to have made such a bold plan.
But since the Balladeer was soon to achieve his lifelong goal, he was feeling generous tonight— he would indulge your little schemes for today, just this once.
"Ah, here it is." You straighten up, the pages rustling as you flip to the correct page. "This essay is rather long, but this particular excerpt is my favourite."
Scaramouche watches as you begin to pace back and forth aimlessly, your lips parting to take a deep breath in preparation... and he waits. He waits for the next move in the chess game, for his turn to come.
"Look up to the stars, and remember the light in my eyes." One finger traces idly along the page, your eyes following it intently as if to bore a hole through the paper. "Look to the east, the rosy dawn, and think of my lips, sweetened with the honey of memories with you."
"But furthermore, evermore, I beg of you, my darling..." Your feet shift to wander towards him, stepping closer and closer till you were only a few paces away from where he stood.
"...Look at me and only me forevermore." You recited, tilting his head upwards with the edge of your book, your warm breath fanning his cheeks as you leaned ever-closer. "Are these the sort of words you'd like to hear from me, Lord Harbinger?"
"Hah." A chuckle escapes his mouth before he can stop himself— really, truly, this was all too entertaining! "That all depends on what I am to you."
"What I am to you is the same as what you are to me." For the first time that evening you smiled, a mirror of the same smile he had now; the air of both challenge and taunt hidden behind the guise of a pleasant expression. "I wish you good luck on your promotion tomorrow, Lord Harbinger."
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now for a more formal announcement: i, tumblr user tellerluna-stories, am moving to a main blog that is solely for interactions w mutuals and goofing off there!
what does this mean?
your dashes will be flooded with less crack posts so you can actually enjoy reading my fics without wading through 5 billion posts of me screaming abt fictional men
i will still write! but I will not be active here very often anymore. I don't think I will have time to write for a while, but I'll probably drop in every now and then, upload a fic, and then disappear like tuxedo mask
I get to scream in a tiny little corner and probably interact with people more, since I usually mute notifications on my fics when I post
mutuals (or anyone who might enjoy my posts outside of my writing), if you want the @ to my new main pls send in a DM!!! or an ask!!!! or you can send in a letter by carrier pigeon or falcon, written on aged parchment asking for the new tumblr moniker that I go by--
I caved and made a new main blog... anyways mutuals if u would like the @ pls send in an ask!!! or a DM!!! or a messenger pigeon or falcon if you're feeling fancy
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