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The Other End of the Blade Part 3

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N - I think this installment has officially made this oneshot series my favorite. I've never had more fun writing a series than this. Please read this series, it's too underrated. Technically no one requested this, but here's more food. @squirrelboxer, I hope you enjoy this. Edit: i did not mean to make it this angsty, what the hell CW / info - angst, insecurity, self-doubt, reader is a sad soggy cat, internal turmoil, thoughts of death/dying, fighting, 4.7k words

Another cheer erupts around you as your wooden sword flies out of your hand, cast aside by your feet. You take a step back, but it is too late. Your heart thunders through your entirety, yet your body remains still, and you don’t dare to take another step. Not when a sword’s tip is nearly at your throat, threatening to slice your skin. The applause stretches for a moment longer before the steel blade falters and then is lowered, and you finally let out a shaky sigh of defeat. 

You didn’t win again. It was expected, but you hated that thought. Even after all this time, you weren’t good enough. At first, the duels were fun–you were learning, improving in real time. The Knave is truly an impressive swordswoman, but for all you have done–incorporating new techniques, switching up movements, utilizing feints–you couldn’t win, not even seem to surprise or shock her. Everything was fruitless and you grew desperate as the more days passed. The defeats grew more in number, and the confidence in your skills, the same ones that set you apart from other rookies in the Marine, faltered.

You grimace down at your feet while the small crowd dies down, the lively crew of the House of the Hearth pirates praising their compliment. The occasional gentle encouragement accompanies their whoops and hollers, but you try to earnestly ignore them. Their words make your chest uncomfortably tight. 

“You’re improving,” you hear the pirate captain say matter-of-factly when you pick up your fallen sword. You click your tongue and shake your head, clenching and unclenching your fists. You bury the fuzzy warmth that bubbles inside you deep, deep enough to have sunk to the seabed of your heart. You are not to take praises or encouragements from pirates sincerely. You have already crossed too many lines as a Marine. 

“Again,” you demand, reassuming position for another bout, raising your wooden stick. 

A sliver of a smile forms its way on the victor’s face, and she shakes her head. Clapping her hands together, she gathers the crew’s attention. “Children, that should be enough entertainment for one night, yes? Retire for bed, unless you’re on Lookout duty tonight.”

Your lips form a tight line at her rejection. 

Some whiny protests come from the younger of the crewmembers, which only irks you more. So young are these children, and your thoughts on the House of the Hearth pirates remain unresolved, still as complicated as they were when you encountered them. What kind of testament is to their captain that these children can still behave appropriately for their age? Should such child-likeness be deprived of them in favor for the harsh conditions they face, or is it exactly because of the weariness that surrounds them that they should remain innocent?

As they scurry off, your gaze never leaves them until the last, lagging crewmember shuffles into his cabin. He is barely of age, just shy of 15 or 16 you can guess. He wanders like he’s never been dealt a single bad hand of fate, but the large scar on his face implies otherwise. All the boyish confidence and vitality a child his age should have are present in his stature. 

“What draws your attention?” The woman breaks your ponder, and you snap your attention back to her. 

“Nothing,” You answered quickly. “Did you really stop our duel to retire?” 

The Knave gives you that strange look that she has been giving you for the past week, taking in your entirety as if trying to decipher you. “No. I thought the reprieve was necessary for you.” 

Your eyebrows knitted together. “For me?”

“Your hands were shaking.”

You glance down at your hand holding the blade. Confirming her statement, your hand is trembling, and even when you willed it, the movements did not stop for a moment. The aches in your legs and arms protest, but you ready your sword again. 

“Another round.” It’s not a request from you. 

“Are Marines this sore of losers?” The pirate captain remarks, but there is little light-heartedness to be found in her tone. It is mocking, provocative, and truly irritating. Her pose remains casual, and she does not lift her sword. 

“I’m using you for training. Raise your sword.” 

The captain does not twitch a single muscle. Instead, she lifts her gaze to you, her expression shifting to something more familiar of a pirate. Cutting into you deeper than any sword could, her stare hardens. 

“You seem to forget your place, Marine. The outcome will not change tonight.”

That truth is undeniable and yet, the recognition still churns your chest. Her words do little to the blaze that refuses to smolder, common sense be damned. Your week-long losing streak only frustrated you increasingly, bullying you beyond your patience and humility. Among your fellow Marines, you were said to be one of the best rookies among your rank, a rising star on the seas bound to shine brightly. What little that renown meant every time your sword clashed with the Harbinger’s. None of the acknowledgement you received or your rank as commander have aided you in combat. Was it all pretenses because of your family’s lineage and status, or had this always been the limit of your abilities? Have you always been this fraud? 

The uncertainty for the answer only makes your mouth sour. 

You part your lips, about to utter something that is above the likes of pirates and below the integrity of the Marines–a plea–but you stop yourself. Even in your hazy midst of inferiority, you must retain a semblance of dignity. 

“Just indulge me this once more,” you finally answer, a finality to your voice, a callback to her own words when she first asked for a duel.

The two of you knew you were never going to let her refute. The tip of your wooden weapon scrapes across the floorboards before you lunge at her, a sharp and precise thrust that would have surely met her. Effortlessly, however, she parries with a swipe to the right, diverting your dominant away. She swings down, slashing to your left with a disturbing swiftness. Your trained instincts allow you to avoid it narrowly, leaning back just for the blade to graze your shirt. Taking advantage of her position, with a sharp turn, you slice down across to her chest, only for your blade to be caught halfway by her hilt. 

The two of you remain at a momentary standstill, unmoving and contending for control. Eventually, however, your arm gives way, and she thwarts your hand to the side, leaving your front vulnerable. She takes the opportunity to thrust into you, and you’re forced to evade with a large step back, only she follows up, relentlessly attacking you with a flurry of slices and cuts. Despite your exhaustion and soreness, your defense endures, but a chance for the offensive is scarce. The Knave throws in the occasional feint, most of which you are able to guard at the last instant, while the rest you utilize your agility to avoid. 

Eventually, your fatigue shows through once you raise your blade to defend a thrust, but her sword slides to the side against the length of your weapon, cutting into the top of your shoulder. You bite down a hiss of pain, embracing the position and stepping forward into her. Preparing a pinpoint thrust that would have surely met her had it not been that your knee locked into place, cramping up from overexertion. An intense pang shoots through you, unable to continue forward, causing you to collapse onto the floor. You clutch onto your leg while your muscles clench and unclench rapidly, spreading the throbs across your body. A throaty cry of agony is ripped from your throat, tears brimming at your eyes that threaten to fall. 

The wooden blade clatters to the floor at the captain’s feet.

You bite down sharply on your tongue to repress any more noises of weakness, regretting it immediately when the thick, metallic, liquid floods your mouth. Lying on the floor, you could no longer bear anymore ignorance to the state of your body, all the weariness and stings you earned throughout the week shoving its way to the front of your mind. No longer could you wield your limbs, not when it feels as if every inch of your flesh is contracting within itself.

The pain eats away at not just the function of your body, but at your self-regard. Your crushed morale invites your insecurities into your thoughts freely. Was this all you could do? Is this all you could amount to? Why couldn’t you be better? How could you expect to be a great Marine if there is this indomitable force in your opposition? You can never gain your family’s love or respect like this. Not only had you faced the humiliation of being saved by pirates, but also repeatedly bested by one. You were pitied by pirates, damn it. Those shrill, mocking comments of the crew rings through your head, weren’t they just jabs at you, wanting to continue your own humiliation? They must have been cheering for your defeat, why wouldn’t they? They would be ecstatic to see a Marine, their enemy, be beaten down, over and over again by one of their own.

You know that the Marines would be if it was a pirate in the same situation. 

Through the blurred pain and the internal turmoil around you, both of your legs seize up, like anchors have been chained to each one. Each movement of muscle is agony, but even that is dulled by your oppressive thoughts. So you lay on your side, uselessly, uncaring of the vulnerability your current state implies. Archons, what would your captain think if he knew you were in this state?

Nothing had changed. You hadn’t gotten better, hadn’t gotten closer to being a better fighter. The most you achieved was swallowing loss after loss. Defeat and failure was unbecoming of someone from your lineage–not your family. You were supposed to be one of the greats, that was in your blood. Victory and glory was laid down before you, but that didn’t seem the case anymore. Not only were you a failure, you were spared and sheltered by pirates, and then played house with them; all things that Marines should have never allowed to happen. You became a fraud of a Marine, letting these damn pirates make you doubt those among your own ranks and shake up your convictions. They thought you were weak enough to recruit you. You have long betrayed the values the moment you were rescued. And even now, you’re unable to redeem yourself.

Why? Why aren’t you good enough? If you were meant to be great, why was this where you were? Where have your praised swordsmanship and ingenuity gone? Broken and defeated in front of a pirate, did they abandon you or were they never there? Had all the years of training–enduring your family’s harsh demands and surviving their strict regime–all for naught, wasted on a sham of a Marine? Was clawing, struggling for their approval and gaze a futile effort? Have you always been undeserving of them, undeserving to join them, undeserving of the rank and achievements you gained?

You never deserved anything because you were never enough; surely, you wouldn’t be enough now. 

Your body refuses to move as you command it to. It has given up on you too. 

The scraping of wood cuts through and through your blurry vision you watch as an item is kicked towards you by the Knave’s heels, stopping just before your face. It is the wooden sword.

“You’ll need it again.” As if her words were definite, she carries them with a certain resolution. Her heels click against the floor, growing quieter as she walks away, not a single glance back. 

“No, I won’t,” you rasp out, barely audible. 

Her heels stop at your response. Silence stretches on for what feels like hours. What would the great Knave have to say for the fallen Marine?

“It wasn’t a suggestion.” Cold, absolute. Yet underlying that, in a similar way your father would berate you, there’s the oh, so familiar disappointment. You hate it, hate it, hate it.  

Even the Knave’s discontent makes your chest twist excruciatingly, and your body weighs heavily with their heavy judgement. All too vividly does the memory of your near-death flood back to you, the same helplessness and despair you felt when you were plunged into frigid seas pangs through you. Your captain watched your desperation, heard your distraught cries, and turned away. And for what?

Maybe your captain was right to have abandoned you then. 

Your chest twists and coils inside of you, painfully. 

You should have just died then.

It would have been simple. It would have been easy. It would have been a tragedy. Your family will speak of you in recognition of you, and then resume their lives. Your life would be just a small, overlooked blemish in your family’s legacy of greatness. 

At the very least, you would have died with honor, as a hero, without having to suffer being spared by pirates. You would have been a sprout that got pruned before it could blossom, not the fallen star you are now. Or was it that your captain knew beforehand of your futility and just grasped the opportunity to get rid of one more fool unbefitting of the Marines? Your being might as well have been irrelevant, unnecessary for the Marines. Then was it truly a betrayal to you when it was to benefit the Marines as a whole? 

“I’m… I can’t.” A weak, broken sound buried under the crashing of waves against the boat and the moaning of winds.

She does not say anything. She does not need to. The silence implies enough.

You can’t bear to look up. You don’t want your imagination to confirm the expression on their face. Perhaps pride at what she’s accomplished? She and her crew have played their psychological games on you, and now that she’s seen how you’ve cracked, she’s enjoying the sight. You can imagine the rumored, wicked smile of hers as she peers down at you. You wonder how much more elated she would be if she knew of your family, how nice it would be to have taken down someone from the prestigious Marine lineage–the very one that has inspired so much fear among the mass of pirates. To know how different you were from the rest of your family members. And you were nothing compared to them. 

Her footsteps sound through the ship, but this time they grow louder, closer. You can see her heels approach, coming into view.

“Are you no longer going to fight me?” Firm, but undoubtedly with a challenge behind them.

Even if you willed yourself to, you could not summon the strength to answer truthfully. You can no longer meet her challenge–you’re not an equal to her and never were.

“If you won’t continue our bouts, then I’ll take that as an acceptance to my offer.”

Briefly, your bewilderment snaps you away from your despondency. “What?” 

“My offer to join my crew. I will announce it to them the next morning. The children will be pleased to have another with them.” 

The damn audacity of this scheming pirate–! She dare say such an outrageous claim with an aggravatingly stoic tone! To make such a sardonic jest at a fallen person! Oh, you wish you could overthrow her off of the ship this very second. 

“I have agreed to no such thing!” You cry out immediately, disturbed at the lengths the pirate captain leapt to reach that conclusion. Your fist slams down against the floorboard, finally lifting your furious gaze to meet her eyes. Once more that night, you are shocked–there is no glee to her expression, nor is there pity. Only a chilling indifference. It bemuses you. Is this no trick or joke played by her–not another show to further humiliate you?

“If you will not fight me, it means you no longer oppose me. And I will take that as a willingness to join my crew.” As if it was the only next logical sequence of events. 

“That is preposterous reasoning!” 

“You are my captive,” she enunciates the last word, dripping with authority. Reminding you once more of her words on the day of your ‘rescue.’ 

I chose for you to live. Your life or death is my choice.

You shudder. 

“I can very easily subject you to accepting my graciousness. So on what grounds do you believe you can reject me?” 

That much is true. You cannot stop her, that fact was made evident. However, the thought of being among them, with the Knave… you instinctively scrunch up your nose and refute it. Even you could not stoop that low. 

“I won’t join you.” This is the singular thing you are certain of, the only words you have any strength behind. 

“And for what reason?”

“Because I am…” The words are stuck in your throat. You sniffle. 

Even if you don’t deserve that title, it’s all you have. It’s all you are. Is it? What are you if not a Marine? Being a Marine is all you coveted your entire life. It is all there is to you. For how weak that you are, for how unbefitting you are, you are desperate to cling onto this one thing, the one label that ties your life to something greater. 

“What are you?”

But you can no longer proudly proclaim it anymore. You glance back down at the floor, skirting your eyes away from her form. Her unyielding stare unnerves you, prickling over your skin. 

Another stretch of quietude slips between the two of you. The pirate captain sighs once more as she approaches closer, crouching next to you and peering down at your figure. You duck your head to hide the remnants of the tears on your face. 

“Are you able to stand?”

You don’t want to–no, you can’t admit it. A voice inside your head, belonging to your father, demands for you to stand, to reject any offer of help or kindness, to grit your teeth and push through. That is what any good Marine should be able to do. Anything less is unsatisfactory. In combat against pirates, no one–not your crew and especially not pirates– will be there to help you. 

Then why did she save you? She offered you a position to join her crew, even if it was because she pitied. She thought you were wronged by your Marine captain, but reframing that night… you could no longer see it the way she did. You weren’t wronged. He only saw how much of a burden you would be. If your captain didn’t want you, why would she? And why would she let you stay after you rejected her? Why not forsake you into the sea; just like your own captain had done? Hadn’t she already seen the same worthlessness that your captain must have noticed?

The pirate captain draws your attention before you can delve into your thoughts again. “It is a simple question. Or did the Marines fail to teach you how to answer with a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no?’” 

“No,” you finally profess in a stifled mutter. It’s already too late for you to redeem yourself anyway. Not to yourself, not in the eyes of the Marines, and not to the Knave. 

No longer do you have the resolve to contest her again, not with your legs challenging any stir of movement and your upper body all too heavy to support. You tense up when she touches the small of your back while the other arm slides underneath your knees. She heaves you up with little difficulty in her arms, a testament to her strength hidden by her lean stature, carrying you in such a mortifying way like a petulant child. Thank the Archons no one is here to witness you.

She’s warm. Almost unbearably so. It should be impossible through the layers of fabric that separates the two of you, but somehow she emits body warmth like a fire. So different from the howling winds and the lapping of the waves against the hull. Different from her minced words and her hardened glares. But nothing like the way she holds you. It would be better if she simply tosses you like a sack to wherever it is she intends on taking you to, but once again, you’re powerless to change this situation. It’s gentle, unlike anything you know of her, what little you do that is.

It’s foreign. Too different from everything you’ve been accustomed to before all of this happened. You detest it. Why must she so frustratingly contrast every presumption you had of her? 

Somehow, it makes your form want to relax, release all of the knitted tension in your muscles. You grow drowsier with each passing second,  but you know better to surrender to such brief respite. The lessons of a Marine shoves itself in front of your thoughts, reminding you once more how you’re failing their lessons. This situation is too compromising of a position. You’re vulnerable, and she can easily hurt or incapacitate you. Even when she’s yet done anything to suggest she would at the moment, all your mind can think of is the danger she imposes just by being what she is.

She’s a pirate. Someone who raids and plunder. Someone who is supposed to fall by your blade. Someone who you’re supposed to protect people from. 

You know this, oh, so clearly. But with your mind in a fog, contending between its exhaustion and vigilance, it seemed like that fact was little more than a worn ache. This, too, is a battle you cannot win and you give way to weariness. While she makes her way through the ship with a steady pace, your head gradually tilts downwards until you are leaning against her shoulder. If she paid any mind to that, she did not make it apparent.

Fatigue makes its way up from your limbs and body to your face. Each interval between blinks becomes shorter and shorter, and staying awake begins straining your eyes.

Rest comes easy with her. You wish it didn’t. 

If you were more sound of mind… well, you suppose it did not matter anymore. 

Just as you close your eyes, she stops, shifting you to be supported by one arm as she unlocks her door with a key she fishes from her belt. Following her entrance, she shuts the door with a sharp kick. The resounding thud jolts you awake right as she crouches down to lay you down on the cot on her floor. Like every night for the past week, she fixes your restraints, attaching a chain to your ankle. ‘Safety,’ she had replied when you inquired her, though you hardly pose a threat to her awake, much less asleep. 

She does not order you to sleep, as she had done the other times. Of course, you never listened to her before, but you are terribly tempted to now. But as you settle in, you notice that she does not head to sleep, instead seating herself at her desk and lighting the lantern by her desk. From your position, you cannot see what she is doing, but you assume she is reading something. Strange. Most pirates, like most masses, are illiterate, as literacy is typically reserved for nobles and aristocrats. Who had taught her how to read? Even your literacy is limited, tailored to just be able to read relevant documents for when you become a high enough ranking Marine. 

There is the flutter of pages as she thumbs through the text. You have never been curious then, but you are now. You let out a soundless yawn, sitting up and rubbing your eyes to stay up for just a little longer. 

You do not know what possessed you, but the words come from your mouth before you can stop it. “What are you reading?”

It’s barely louder than a whisper, and you would not be surprised if it goes unnoticed by her. You think it did, until she finally answers.

“A fascinating account from a former Marine Admiral,” she drawls sarcastically. “The previous Admiral [Last Name].”

Your blood freezes as you hear your last name, your heart skipping a beat as a singular thought runs through your mind. Does she know your family? Of what family you came from? Is this a taunt, or merely a coincidence? 

“What could a pirate benefit from reading that?” You question, concealing your shock. 

“Reading how the former Admiral reveres himself is quite amusing, though the feats he writes of having achieved are truly impressive if they are to be accurate. I cannot imagine how many journals he must have filled with flattery of himself. In any case, for as entertaining stories as his journeys seem to be, what he details are faithful to current Marine strategies and actions.”

You knit your eyebrows, still trying to discern if the mention of your family name was a coincidence or intentional. You decide not to reveal anything, though it feels like a betrayal to say nothing in defense of your retired uncle. 

“How were you able to obtain such a book? A bookkeeper would never allow a pirate to purchase that text.” 

“Purchase?” She chuckles, shaking her head. “Did you forget who I am?”

She says it so casually, as if it does not evoke the thought of her committing the worst atrocities a human can commit. You really hate how often she makes you forget what she is. To what lengths did she go just to take what she wanted? 

“Did you kill him? The bookkeeper?” You ask levelly. 

The Knave raises an eyebrow, looking up from her desk to meet your eyes. Taking a moment to examine your expression, something she seems to love to do with how frequently she does it, she replies. “No. I did not touch him. Does that reassure you?” 

It does. A part of you chants that they are all lies, that the pirates are not above anything, but you swallow that part down. “Did you steal from him?”

“No. In fact, when I stepped into his establishment, he was very insistent on offering me any texts that I wanted without payment. I took his offer, and this was one of his books. I left with no damage to his store or his person.” 

“He was terrified of you.”

“He was,” she agrees. “But had he not offered, I would have, truly, paid for them fully.”

“With the money you had stolen and killed for?” 

“Whatever answer that I give you, you will always assume what you have already convinced yourself of.” 

That reply silences you. She is different from everything you have been taught, almost. The Knave is intelligent, cunning, yes, but she is not crude… that is if what she is saying is true. She is not above reason and morals, that much seems true. Were other pirates like her, or is she the exception? While she technically did not answer your question, what reason does she have to lie? Or has she been lying this entire time? Archons, the Harbinger is exasperating to even try and comprehend. You were too tired for any more of this. 

You lay back down onto the cot, the soreness of everything getting to you. An explicable thought comes to you, and you cannot help but vocalize it. 

“Do you read aloud to your children?”

“Yes. Though they prefer sea shanties and fairy tales.” 

“Read to me.”

“...very well.” 

And she does. You do not know why she obliges you. You do not know why you would request such a thing. But as the very journeys your uncle retold to you as bedtime stories fill the room, you feel your eyelids droop lower and lower. Her speech is silky smooth, rich and deep, pleasant to your ears. Why had you only noticed now?

You drift off sooner than you want. Vaguely, you feel something being draped over the length of your body. It smells of brine, cinnamon, wood, and smoke. You pull it closer to you. 

It smells of a hearth.

[edgeray]

Me when I be a little self indulgent:

Writes 3k+ words of putting reader through the wringer.

Whoops...anyways pirate au part 3 wip

[edgeray]

WHERE HAVE THEY BEEN HIDING YOUUUU??? I LOVE YOUR WRITING, I READ THE DRAGON ARLE ONE ITS SO CUTE WHAT DO I EVEN DO WITH MYSELF :(

I've been here all this time, Anon. 😫 My motivation to write has been shot dead so I'm so sorry that you haven't been seeing me in the tags as of recently 😔. I'm so glad that you enjoyed the Dragon Arle series and thank you for loving my writing!! Although I do have a lot of requests with how the series should continue, but none of them has felt right to me in how the series should continue. The dragon arle series is my most popular series and I do want to give the story and worldbuilding justice that some of the requests for future parts do not have. I do really hope to continue but as of right now, I've yet found the right idea to scratch the right itch to continue Dragon Arle. I can't say for sure if I'll ever get back into the pace of writing I did last summer, but please bear with me. My axolotl brain is trying its best, but a lot has been happening this summer for me 😔.

[edgeray]

To the two anons who recently sent me requests (today/yesterday), thank you for sending them to me. However, I'll have to turn them down because the requests do not follow my rules regarding requests. I do not write for such a sensitive topic, and I want to make my blog as safe and non-triggering as possible. Secondly, I have explicitly stated that I do not take nsfw requests in my rules. There are many other nsfw blogs on Tumblr that will happily write your request for you, so I would redirect you to them. Before requesting, please read my rules.

[edgeray]

You should write arle fluff with like pregnant reader

Between Heartbeats

Arlecchino x AFAB! Reader

A/N - This is really short, apologies. Motivation has been buried a long time ago. In any case, I hope you still enjoy this one. I couldn't decide the baby's gender, so the two also don't know (and aren't planning to until birth). Therefore, the baby will be referred to with gender-neutral terms! (Hence the they/them). CW / info - fluff, a little suggestive, 1.1k words

Arlecchino’s peak of her life came in the form of two lines. Perhaps she should have expected it weeks before when the test actually came, with your frequent vomiting, nausea, and you were ever so slightly more snappy. Or perhaps she should have noticed the growing eyebags or how your body seemed to be more exhausted at the end of the day than usual. In any case, for all of the Knave’s attentiveness and calculations and being the head of a children reconnaissance organization, she really should have known weeks earlier. Nonetheless, this is the one surprise she will accept, even if it does disrupt future plans. 

“I think I’m pregnant,” you whisper, a sacred confession to the two of you in the shared sanctuary of your bedroom. Arlecchino paused her unclasping of her coat, having just returned from Snezhnaya for yet another Harbinger meeting when she heard it. Cliche as it may be, Arlecchino’s world did truly halt for a moment, the revelation altering something inside of her when she fully processed your words. For once, the charming Snezhayan diplomat, always with a silver tongue, was rendered speechless. You always seemed to have those strange effects on her. 

Her lips parted but no noise came out, just an anxious silence caused by the malfunction of her mind. The Harbinger truly seemed shaken by your words, but before a seed of doubt could plant itself inside you she scrambles to your side. Crouching before you on her knees while you sat on the edge of the bed, she gazed up at you, crimson crosses full of unwavering devotion. A cursed hand reaches for you, interlocking your fingers. 

“Do you want this?” She questions, with all the tenderness someone like her shouldn’t have. You smiled warmly. She was ever the gentleman, always putting your desires before her, but you knew that she wanted this just as much as you did–maybe even more. Although the two of you talked about having children, there were cautions and considerations to note, and for that, there was no rush for the two of you to procreate. But here, when she is looking at you as if you are her world (you are), all those troubles fade away so easily. It has never been easier to answer. 

“Yes.” 

Arlecchino lunges, tackling you to the bed and landing on top of you as she peppers your face with kisses. This may be the closest thing to being giddy for Arlecchino. When she pulls away, your face smothered in her lipstick marks, she chuckles at the sight. Laying her head on your chest, she rests on top of you. Maybe she could hear both yours and her child’s beating hearts then. 

“I want this too,” she whispers back into your skin. And what else was there to talk about? 

— 

“You should be sleeping on your side,” your husband chides gently, not so gently pulling you to lay properly with her crimson wing. Standing beside the bed, she leans over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and you curl closer to the pillow, hugging it to your chest. You squeeze your eyes tighter to see if you can salvage any amount of drowsiness for sleep, but ultimately it’s futile. 

Outside of your peripheral vision, the Knave scowls towards the pillow, her hands itching to replace the item. Although she knew everything would be worth it in the end, truly one of the worst things about pregnancy is not being able to lay right beside you. What an utter outrage. How else is she supposed to appreciate her partner’s body? That pillow is going to be shredded the moment her baby is delivered… or perhaps she should save it for… future uses. 

“Good morning to you. I’m already awake,” you yawn, stretching as best as you could. 

“Good morning. You should sleep more, especially after… last night’s activities,” Arlecchino whispers lowly into your ear, a light huff coming from her when you shiver.

“Don’t think so highly of yourself,” you quip back, playfulness to your voice. 

“From how quickly you fell asleep, it certainly does reassure me of my abilities. A husband should be able to treat her partner well in all aspects. Pleasure included.” 

“Mmm, how lucky I am to have such a good husband, huh?”

“How fortunate indeed,” Arlecchino replies with a smug smile. She sits at the edge of the bed next to you, one of her hands slowly makes its way to your swollen belly, stroking gentle patterns over it and tracing stretch marks, fondness felt underneath each fingertip. Some minutes pass by in silence, taking in the sun’s rays that peak through the blinds of the window and each other’s presences. The little moments of bliss the two of you find in the chaos of this world. There’s not a word exchanged between each other, but it has long gone past the point of vocalizing one another’s affections. Arlecchino is already there, held between each heartbeat of yours. Neither of you have any intention of rising from the bed, to break this undisturbed peace. 

But of course, nausea settles inside you to ruin the moment. “I need to use the bathroom.”

Arlecchino immediately helps you turn to the side to reach the edge of the bed. Effortlessly, she sweeps you off of your feet using her cursed strength to lift you comfortably bridal style, carrying you to the bathroom. She pulls back your hair back while you’re hunched over the toilet, your morning sickness coming and passing through. 

“How’s the baby?” She questions, handing you a glass of water once you’re done. You place a hand over your belly, smiling faintly when you feel a bit of movement. 

“Active. Feels like they want to come out already with how much they kick,” you chuckled.

“Mmh, but we still have several more weeks.” Arlecchino kisses your forehead and leans forward to place a hand over yours. “Just a little longer, and they will be here. Our precious. I pray to the Archons that they have your likeness.” 

You giggled. “I hope they’re a mini you, Arle. I’ve always wanted to see what you looked like when you were younger.” 

She sends you a gentle smile, all the warmth of a hearth in her eyes. Arlecchino presses a kiss against your lips, holding you closer. Regardless of whose eyes the child will have or their color of hair, she knows the two of you hold this same sentiment: “They’ll be perfect.”

You hummed in agreement, basking in her embrace. Gradually, Arlecchino pulls away, but not before giving you another kiss. “I’ll have to do some work outside. The children can provide you company in my place. Is there anything you require currently?” 

You sighed, already missing her with the thought of her absence. “Can you get me some of the pastries again? The ones you bought last time?”

“I already had the twins pick them up. The chocolate dipped ones, yes?” 

Your eyes practically gleam with astonishment. “Marry me?” 

“Well… there is a curious diamond ring already on your finger, isn’t there?” 

“Archons, I love you so much.”

[edgeray]

I don’t know you, but from what I’ve seen you seem really sweet, I hope your day is going well!💕

Aw ty, I hope your day is going well too, anon!

[edgeray]

Yall ik you guys want continuations on a lot of my series but it is so hard to bring myself to sit down and continue writing them. I need new ideas.

There are so many requests sitting in my inbox but none of them itch my brain right 😭 where are my anons from last summer, flood my inbox with your guys' silly aus and ideas please. I'm not dead, I promise.

[edgeray]

For reference, Courting a Lie.

OMG, I LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS THIS IS SO GOOD I'M GONNA EXPLODE INTO PIECES 🥹🥹🥹 THIS IS SO CUTE AND BEAUTIFUL AHHHHHHH

Your OC's dress is so pretty and I love Arlecchino's design. The lighting and mood is ethereal. (I'm not much of an art person, so I don't know how else to describe this 😅😊)

I'm so excited to see your future works!!! Thank you so much for this amazing piece of art!! If you are looking for more inspiration, I have more of my works on here (Tumblr), rather than AO3.

Hi! @edgeray I'm the little person on Ao3 who said they would draw things inspired by your writing. I decided to start with... Courting a Lie 👀

I'll draw more, of course, I want to draw dragons and pirates!

And the girl is my Oc... But, I think she remains mysterious.

[edgeray]

anon who brought up Sky here! it’s basically a spin on those theory accounts that can be found every so often-the people who publish stuff like Vision theories or nation lore instead of various memes or combat guides-except with a slight spin on it. so kinda like a fanbase? you might be able to find a theory on Arle’s age posted specifically on her birthday with a link to her birthday stream, maybe one that pops up right after You Make Me Hard As Bedrock with several (mildly invasive) theories about the relationship between the two of them…

but let’s say during Arle’s next stream, the chat has calmed down for a brief moment, then a notif pops up: ‘Follower Sky.is.Blue has entered the chat!’ and the chat figures out who it is very quickly, considering that there was a post from them not too long ago that was pretty popular.

if you want, i could send a few dialogues of things they might say every so often?

also, is it okay if i’m Sky anon?

Hi sky anon! Yes, I would prefer if you can message me some dialogues/ideas (if you are comfortable with that) in order for me to better see what I can do with this character. And yes, you can be sky anon! Sorry for the late reply.

[edgeray]

umm… hi?

your work is incredibly appreciated. there aren’t many sfw blogs on tumblr, and you’ve got the best of the best.

earlier, you mentioned that you wanted suggestions for some of the streamer names? somehow, Scara popping in anonymously but not actually turning on anon would be kind of amusing, especially if his user was something like ScaraMEOW, fandango.kid, or even pizza hut after someone (probably childe) changed it without his permission… also, maybe DeathlyWalnut would be good for Hu Tao?

but imagine if Arle could see those in her stream but not in the chat-basically the shy people/lurkers.

user: “Sky.is.Blue” . known for various theory posts on social media, including ones that occasionally dive into mildly personal aspects of popular MC streamers, including Arle, and has a post sitting in their drafts analysing her potential age compared to her stream history and relationship with the reader… Sky doesn’t talk much unless they’re infodumping into a post, and they don’t use the chat unless someone tags them. even then, responses are a combo of punctuation marks, yes/no/maybe, and the occasional Hu Tao emoji.

Hi anon!!! Thank you sm, I'm so glad you have enjoyed my blog, and I'm assuming my streamer au fic. I'm considering making other genshin characters canon in my Streamer AU for future parts, so Scara or Hu Tao may be added. And I love the usernames you came up for both of them! Childe is probably the most likely to be canon.

I think "Sky.is.Blue" is a really great idea for someone apart of Arle's and Reader's fanbase, and I would love to incorporate it! I'm not really sure however how to write Sky.is.Blue in, could you maybe give me a few more details? I've just never heard of or seen channels/accounts post theories on content creators' and their personal lives. It would be hard to write in Sky.is.Blue if they do not talk in chat or have any previous posted content about Arle and Reader. Can you give me some ideas of potential content Sky.is.Blue would post related to Arle and Reader? I'll see if it can incorporated!

[edgeray]

YOU MAKE ME AS HARD AS BEDROCK!

Streamer AU | Arlecchino x GN! Reader

2.4k words of silly idiots flirting over Minecraft on stream

I'm posting the link here because Tumblr won't allow the original post to show up in tags (I don't know why I've tried everything), but please give my post some love since Tumblr decided not to.

[edgeray]

Completely forgot I had the ability to reblog, but everybody read this omg, I love enemies to lovers arle x reader

By popular demand... (Me)

★★★★★

It's a late night for you. Work from your superiors has been piling up on your desk for the last week and you know better than to let them go unfinished any longer. Nothing you can't do, just transcribing notes from your field work.

It's the tedium that eats at you.

You pick up one of your notebooks and leaf through it again, frustration edging into your movements. Your notes on this so-called "House" were extensive, detailed, perfect. But they aren't enough. You need more. The book falls back to the table, open to an empty page containing your final thread that you can't seem to fucking unravel: "Father".

Who was the "Father" of the "House?" A person? A title? Nobody seemed to know, or if they did they didn't have the guts to tell you. The final piece to unraveling the criminal case of the century, and it's someone's pseudo-father figure.

A sigh leaves your lips and you return your pen to the paper, before a knock at the office door pulls your attention. It's loud, sharp, and unmistakable. Your frown deepens.

"At this hour? Did someone leave their keys?"

You rise to your feet slowly, your hand coming to rest on the knife holstered in your belt. Step by step, inch by inch, you approach the door. It's silent now, almost as if there was no knocking to begin with, but you can't dismiss it.

"Our location isn't public, there shouldn't be any civilians here..."

Your hand comes to rest on the handle and, before you can crack it open, a voice speaks from behind you.

"Evening."

Your heart leaps into your throat and you turn towards the sound, knife brandished. At your desk stands a figure, slightly hidden by the dim lighting of the room. Their back is to you, but you can see hands leafing through the documents on your desk before picking one up. Your notes on the House of the Hearth.

You know you should challenge them, question them, possibly even threaten them. But as soon as your mouth opens, before you can even step forwards towards the shadowy silhouette, they turn.

The figure at your desk was a woman, clad in a white, exquisitely pressed, men's tailored suit with silvery-red details and embellishments running up and down the fabric. Her hands were long, elegant, and lethal, like gloved claws. Her hair was a cold grey with shocks of black running through, chopped erratically and pulled back into a ponytail.

But all of this came second to her face. To her eyes. Her eyes were unnatural, piercing red. You'd seen some unusual eye colors before, but the red that you were seeing now felt like it hated you. Those eyes pored over you now, studying you, consuming you, but her face remained a neutral mask.

"Breathe, detective," her voice was a command, low but unmistakable. You had to obey, your chest almost collapsing from the force of your exhale as you let out the breath you'd been holding.

"Who are you?" You spoke, praying to the gods that your voice wouldn't betray your fear. "You shouldn't be here. Not now."

The woman didn't answer immediately, instead looking down to the notebook in hand. You caught a glimpse of the page she'd stopped at. An empty one, with only a single word written at the top. The word that had plagued your mind for countless sleepless nights.

"Father," she read, tracing a single, gloved finger over the ink. "No information? A shame, detective. And when you were getting so close."

"My work is none of your concern," you could feel your hackles raising. This wasn't right, she wasn't right. She wasn't threatening you, but she was dangerous.

"Ah, but it is." Did she have an accent? Fontainian?

"By what merit?"

"Now that, detective, is for you to find out."

"How did you find our location?"

"Secrets are only hidden from the blind and the dumb, detective."

"How did you get in my office?"

"I just answered that question."

"What do you want?"

She seemed to pause at this, not hesitation, moreso in how a predator pauses right before it strikes. Anticipation.

"I have a warning, from a concerned party."

The woman steps forward now, stalking towards you like you were nothing more than a mildly interesting art exhibit. Something to study for a second, and then forget.

Your knife is still brandished, it's wicked blade held firm and outstretched towards her. You don't falter. Neither does she. The tip of metal digs into her jacket, tearing through the fine thread. You can feel it cutting through the vestments underneath before it stops. You can't help but wonder what her skin feels like underneath, would it be soft and warm? Or does her humanity exist only as a facade? Maybe it's as cold as death inside just like on the outside.

She looms over you, those cursed eyes freezing you in place. You're close enough that you can feel the heat from her body, oppressive and harsh and terrible like a raging grease fire. Her cologne smells like myrrh and incense and ash and it swallows you whole. A hand comes to rest on your shoulder, your hand wielding the knife is affixed in place. Her voice is low when she speaks, but it rings clear like it was coming from within your skull.

"There are other issues in this city that better suit you. Do not waste yourself on the House, because it will consume you. You are not its first, you will not be its last."

The hand on your shoulder moves down to your bicep, then your wrist, before finally intertwining with yours. What you had thought to be the glove fabric is actually skin, dark, scarred skin that shoots a bolt of surprise to your chest. You feel her press something between your fingers, the knife clattering to the floor.

With that, the woman steps back, around you, and to the door. You turn to face her, thinking of something, anything else to ask, but she's gone. Between your fingers is a small slip of paper with a note.

"Heed me well, detective. Signed, The Knave."

It smells like her.

[edgeray]

WHY ISN'T THIS APPEARING IN THE TAGS, HELP????

You Make Me As Hard As Bedrock!

Streamer AU | Arlecchino x GN! Reader

A/N - I come back! Sorry for my absence, I was clawing my way out of writer's block and summer depression. I bring you this. Hopefully this makes up for it. This is very crack/fluff oriented (rare fluff sighting on edgeray's account). This is so left field from what I usually write, so apologies if this is bad. This idea comes from this post I made. CW / info - they play minecraft, silly idiots, obviously very out of character, streamer! arlecchino, streamer! reader, dirty jokes, 2.4k words

“Is this thing working? Is the stream up?” Arlecchino mutters under her breath as she taps onto the mic, adjusting her headphones as she switches between her windows on her monitor. 

Magic_catboi:  father is on! Teacatlady: Hello persPenguin: Yes, the mic works.  Foltz6__: hu horrerfilms: helol ughmen: father!!!!! celuere: Daddy???  Magic_cat_boi: _self-insert_?!?! omg horrerfilms: *hello edgeray: YOOOOOO  persPenguin: collab with _self-insert_ ? knavesflames: would.

Arlecchino faintly smiles at the immediate chat messages, eyes scanning over familiar usernames. 

“Thank you persPenguin. Let me pull this up…” The Knave displays the Minecraft title screen, ensuring that the right window is on stream. Once she's checked everything is set up, she faces the camera. 

“This stream, we'll be playing Minecraft with _self-insert_. This is my first stream with them, so be considerate. We will get started once [Name] finishes setting up the server and they call me. In the meantime, how are you guys today?” 

Magic_catboi: oh no. father. not minecraft DilfDigger: my show is on LilacLazernator: hello HauntedMolerat: knave stream?? chat  persPenguin: good :D Magic_cat_boi: go d Conquer_of_Gluesticks: You single handily made me question my sexuality and it has destroyed me can we kiss  ughmen: i thank archon every day that women exist. horrerfilms: fine, hru ShakespeareSock: Good, wbu Teacatlady: How many deaths will father have today place your bets below vv GamerGoose07: collab with _self-insert_ was not on my 2025 bingo enchantdisdick: okay  Magic_catboi: gud HyacinthTeabag: more mc streams hurrah celuere: ughmen, real.  i_came_i_saw_i_failed: Hi dad! If you had a fursona, what would it be? edgeray: was about to study for an exam. nvm, ig persPenguin: father i got an A on my math test GamerGoose07: Teacatlady 10 cloudpawgames: !!!!_self-insert_!!!! capybarasrock: where is Bambi Jr.  Magic_catboi: gamergoose have some faith. 15.  Dadleftforemilk: father, drop a tutorial on how to get your dad to come back  Teacatlady: A spider, obviously @I_came_i_saw_i_failed

Arlecchino stretches in her chair, watching her chat flood with messages. “I am pleased that your day has been pleasant. persPenguin, excellent job. Just as I said, you have nothing to worry about as long as you do your best. If any of you have not eaten today yet, know that I am disappointed. This is your reminder to grab a snack, as the stream won’t start for a few minutes.” 

celuere: step on me

Ignoring that, Arlecchino scrolls back up her chat. “Bambi Jr.? She is doing just fine. Let me go get her.” Arlecchino rises from her chair and removes her bunny-eared headset, walking off camera to the right. She returns, a juvenile tarantula wandering over her tattooed arms. 

Worstchestersauce: teacatlady that’s not very skibidi!!!! >:(((( capybarasrock: bambi!!  i_do_myth: late, but i am here! hi father!! cloudpawgames: What type of spider is she again? horrerfilms: tell bambi i said hi Jean_notJohn: hello Dadleftforemilk: father, will you be my dad Magic_catboi: look at hwo good bambi jr. is. very mindful, very demure Worstchestersauce: teacatlady. seven HyacinthTeabag: we love bambi jr we say in unison  Dadleftforemilk: pls 

The streamer smiles, letting the spider crawl onto her palm, standing patiently as if posing for the viewers. “Today has been going well for me. Yes, hello to the people still joining in. I went to the gym earlier this morning, had a good session, and ordered my favorite takeout afterwards. Very relaxed weekend today. I am excited for the stream, [Name] and I have played Minecraft a couple of times in the last few weeks, but this is the first time we’ll be streaming.”   

She pauses at one of the latest messages. “What is demure?”

Unsurprisingly, it is another slang term that has cropped up. New internet lingo crops up like weeds, she thinks, and once more, everyone is calling her a boomer. A donation message comes through, and Arlecchino reads it outloud.

“LilacLazernator, thank you for the donation. ‘Day 193892 of asking you to call chat your little pog…champ?’” Arlecchino sounds out the last word. Vaguely, she recalls the term–was this not used during the earlier years of Covid? She continues the rest of the donation. “‘(please I need the validation).’ How do you all feel about this?”

Magic_catboi: YAS father!1!!11! HyacinthTeabag: call us your little pogchamp GamerGoose07: do it do it do it Teacatlady: Say it

Arlecchino pinches the bridge of her nose with her free hand, letting Bambi Jr. crawl over her lap for a little bit. Sighing, she stares deadpanned at the camera. She opens her lips, but purses them the next moment, another sigh emerging from her. 

“How are we feeling today… my little pogchamps?” Could regret ever be more instant? 

 Teacatlady: This is being clipped

The chat has a brief seizure as she picks up Bambi Jr. again, hearing a discord ping message through her headset and she quickly goes off camera to place Bambi Jr. back in her enclosure. 

“Give me one moment, I believe [Name] just messaged me.” 

_self-insert_  ready to go when you are! server is up. you got the server address? knave yes. is your stream set up? we can call? _self-insert_ yes! let me go call you.

The discord call ringtone sounds through, and she accepts the call. 

“Knave! How are you doing today?” your voice sounds through.  

“Good, good. And you?” 

“Great! Are you having any trou–oh, there you are!” 

xKnavex joined the game

Arlecchino’s character spawns in a meadow, trees scarce across a grassy landscape. Pigs and cows graze the land, and a chicken clucks somewhere nearby. The Knave find’s _self-insert_’s character punching a tree, and walks over. 

“Here for the morning wood, huh?” _self-insert_ teases as the two of them punch the same tree. 

Arlecchino rolls her eyes. “As if I would be interested in any wood,” she quips back. With the tree now demolished by their fists, leaving floating leaves, they move onto the next nearby tree.  

“Not much of a Minecraft builder are you?” _self-insert_ jokes, some cheekiness in your tone as your character travels to find the nearest cave. Meanwhile, Arlecchino searches for food, promptly smacking wildlife with her fists.

‘Not what I meant,’ Arlecchino comments to herself, but answers back with a grin, “You're the Minecraft expert here, _self-insert_, not me. Aren't you here to teach me?” 

You let out a melodic chuckle, and Arlecchino swears she could listen to it forever. “Yeah? You want me to make you an expert?” Your voice dips a bit, a sweet, silky tone that nearly makes the Knave shiver. You drop down into the mouth of a cave, mining enough cobblestone for an upgraded pickaxe, then delving deeper for coal. 

“Not as good as you,” the Knave replies, a slight shake of her head. Arlecchino comes across a pig. The first hit is a success, but as the pig squeals and scatters, the next sequential punches aren’t so successful.  

“I dunno, I can be a good teacher. If you're a good listener.”

“I can listen well.” After the nth hit, the pig finally dies, rewarding Arlecchino with just a single raw porkchop. 

“Really well?” 

“As good as I can be. I'll be good for you.” 

“Just for me?”

 “Of course. Whose going to teach me how to build our house?”

Another laugh comes from the other end of the call, the warmth in Arlecchin’s chest growing just from sound. “Oh, we’re sharing the same house? I wasn’t aware we were at that stage already in our relationship.” 

“Our beds next to each other in our past worlds didn’t tell you enough? I’m hurt,” Arlecchino says, faux disappointment in her voice, a visible pout from her apparent through her face camera. “I thought we were closer than that, aren’t we?” 

“I’ll move in with you again if you can give me some food,” _self-insert_ replies as her character resurfaces from the cave, a full set of stone tools and some ores in her inventory. 

Arlecchino brutally eviscerates a cow with a clenched fist of raw porkchops. “Of course, I have some food for you. Where are you?” 

“Aww, you miss me already? Give me your cords.” 

As Arlecchino struggles to find the F3 button, the stream chat explodes. 

Jean_notJohn: what happened to hi, hello, gm? i_do_myth: is ths flirting Worstchestersauce: what– Conquer_of_Gluesticsk: 😮 Magic_catboi: what a stsrt to a stream ughmen: we loe lesbianism horrerfilms: father y r u alr flirting Jean_notJohn: we get it father, you’re a lesbian ShakespeareSock: lesbian tries not to be lesbian challenge failed Teacatlady: Do the two of you need the room?  HauntedMolerat: r they dating???? ths their first stream right? DilfDigger: local lesbian flirts with another woman after .1 seconds of meeting Dadleftforemilk: are we interrupting something persPenguin: father why Worstchestersauce: since when were they together??? 0o0 capybarasrock: sesbian lex?!!?!?!1 GamerGoose07: stop being gay and make wooden tools iloverats34: oil up steponmepwettypls: when are you making out???

Like an absent father, Arlecchino neglects her chat in favor of still struggling to find her coordinates with your assistance. By this point, you have dug yourself in a hole and Arlecchino is screenrecording her game to _self-insert_. (“Okay, did you find the F3 button? Yeah? Okay, okay, look to the left, THE LEFT, to the LEFT, uh huh, yeah, top-middle-ish. Did you find it yet? No, okay, move your mouse, wait. Wait. It’s, it’s there, it’s right there, right there! Do you see it?! Do I need that big red circle from those clickbait videos!? Oh okay, you found it? Okay, read it out loud for me. Good job.”) 

Arlecchino finds shelter on top of a tree, while you make the dangerous trek of searching for the Knave, weaving past creepers and dodging arrows as your hunger persists. You cross from one end of the forest to the next, and climb arduously up a mountain, determined to rescue your damsel in distress.

“I'm being shot at,” the white-haired streamer protests, her character prancing on top of a treetop in circles to avoid the arrows of skeletons. She is determined to stay alive until you can come, all the faith in you that you will be able to protect her any minute now. 

“I’m coming! I should be there in a second! I should be close by. Wait, you’re in a tree right?” You scan your surroundings, scoping out the barren mountain side. 

“Yes?”

“It’s 100 and 900 for the x and z coordinates, right?”

“Yes, wait.” Arlecchino goes to check her coordinates, realizing her grave mistake. “It’s negative 900.”

A moment of silence occurs between them, the only thing audible is the clacking of Arlecchino’s keyboard and the shuffling of leaves. 

“I’m going to jump off a cliff.” 

“Wait–” 

Arlecchino successfully discourages your character down from the mountain, and by morning, you finally found her, perched in a tree. 

“Give me my food please.” 

“Okay, here’s some chicken.”

“This is raw.” 

Arlecchino goes into her inventory to search for the right food. She drops several pieces of lambchops. 

“This is raw too.” 

“...you can still eat them.”

Your character begins walking away from her, chewing onto your uncooked poultry. You sigh out, “I want a divorce.”

“What? For what?” Arlecchino croaks out in utter bafflement. “We were married?” 

“This is weaponized incompetence. I wanted cooked food.” A faux sob comes from your end. “I’m taking the kids with me.” 

“What kids?!” 

You sniffle. “Get out of my house.”

“We haven’t even built one.” 

“Well, build one so I can kick you out of it.” 

“You mean you’re no longer gonna sleep next to me?”

A bout of silence, before you admit defeat. “You make a good point. You can’t cuddle me if we’re divorced.”

“So we’re still married and I’m no longer kicked out of our hypothetical house?” 

“Only if you can build our house.” 

“I thought you were teaching me how to build.” 

“Nope. You have to prove yourself to be worthy of marrying me. And I’m going to be busy.”

“Busy doing what?” 

Arlecchino could practically hear the smile through your words. “Mining for a diamond.” 

“Just one diamond?”

“Yeah. Who do you think will be proposing?” 

GamerGoose07: marriage speedrun??? Magic_catboi: father with the RIZZ?!1?1? cloudpawgames: I can’t tell ifthey’re like not dating or not Jean_notJohn: are they joking? Or like, fr? HauntedMolerat: they sound like my parents  ughmen: i know lesbian move in fast but… not that fast  Conquer_of_Gluesticks: drop tutorial on how to achieve wife Teacatlady: Father, you never told us that _self-insert_ was your girlfriend steponmepwettypls: there is no reason for you guys to be this cute and gay omg 

“My chat thinks we’re dating,” Arlecchino says as she collects wood.

“Aren’t we?”

“In real life, they mean.”

“We can make that happen too, you know.”

Arlecchino nearly chokes on her spit. “Are you asking me… out?”

You contemplate it for a moment. “You know what? Yeah, I am.”

“I… I accept?” 

“Great. Our next date is going to be off stream.” 

“What–” 

—

“So how do you like the house?”

“It’s…”

“Be nice.”

“I’m trying.” 

“It’s not that bad, right?”

“Yeah… if we were in 2014. Maybe I should have taught you first.” 

— 

“Hey, you know if you press ‘Q’ while holding a pickaxe near lava, it reveals ores underneath the lava?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“... do you still have those divorce papers?” 

— 

“Watch out it’s a creeper!”

“AW MAN!”

“Where is this music coming from–”

—

“HyacinthTeabag, thank you for the donation. ‘I will bark if you do a waterbucket MLG.’ What’s an MLG, _self-insert_?”

“Oh, it’s easy. Watch this.”

“I can do that.” 

xKnavex fell from a high place. 

— 

“Teacatlady says: ‘Father, here are some minecraft pickup lines to help you seduce–’”

“Seduce?!” 

“‘–_self-insert_: Are you a redstone torch? Because you turn me on.’” 

“Wow, I’ve never felt more aroused.” 

“‘You must be a wolf because I want to give you my bone.’”

A bout of silence. _self-insert_’s character does a slow turn towards the Knave. 

“‘Can I fertalize your crop with my bonemeal?’” 

_self-insert_ remains silent to ensure that Arlecchino is done, before letting out a dramatic sigh. “You’re just so sexy. Make love to me right now.”

“Right here in this cave? Our first time deserves somewhere better.” 

“You’re right. Let’s go back up to the surface.” 

—

“Did you know you can dye beds? I got poppies so that you can dye your bed red.”

“I didn’t know that. What color do you like?” 

“I like magenta, but their flowers are kind of hard to come by.”

“What flowers?” 

“Alliums or lilacs.” 

An hour later. 

—

“Why do we have 43 Alliums in our chest?”

“I thought you wanted to dye your bed…” 

For the record, Father only died 11 times. Keep inventory had to be turned on after the third death.

[edgeray]

You Make Me As Hard As Bedrock!

Streamer AU | Arlecchino x GN! Reader

A/N - I come back! Sorry for my absence, I was clawing my way out of writer's block and summer depression. I bring you this. Hopefully this makes up for it. This is very crack/fluff oriented (rare fluff sighting on edgeray's account). This is so left field from what I usually write, so apologies if this is bad. CW / info - they play minecraft, silly idiots, obviously very out of character, streamer! arlecchino, streamer! reader, dirty jokes, 2.4k words

“Is this thing working? Is the stream up?” Arlecchino mutters under her breath as she taps onto the mic, adjusting her headphones as she switches between her windows on her monitor. 

Magic_catboi:  father is on! Teacatlady: Hello persPenguin: Yes, the mic works.  Foltz6__: hu horrerfilms: helol ughmen: father!!!!! celuere: Daddy???  Magic_cat_boi: _self-insert_?!?! omg horrerfilms: *hello edgeray: YOOOOOO  persPenguin: collab with _self-insert_ ? knavesflames: would.

Arlecchino faintly smiles at the immediate chat messages, eyes scanning over familiar usernames. 

“Thank you persPenguin. Let me pull this up…” The Knave displays the Minecraft title screen, ensuring that the right window is on stream. Once she's checked everything is set up, she faces the camera. 

“This stream, we'll be playing Minecraft with _self-insert_. This is my first stream with them, so be considerate. We will get started once [Name] finishes setting up the server and they call me. In the meantime, how are you guys today?” 

Magic_catboi: oh no. father. not minecraft DilfDigger: my show is on LilacLazernator: hello HauntedMolerat: knave stream?? chat  persPenguin: good :D Magic_cat_boi: go d Conquer_of_Gluesticks: You single handily made me question my sexuality and it has destroyed me can we kiss  ughmen: i thank archon every day that women exist. horrerfilms: fine, hru ShakespeareSock: Good, wbu Teacatlady: How many deaths will father have today place your bets below vv GamerGoose07: collab with _self-insert_ was not on my 2025 bingo enchantdisdick: okay  Magic_catboi: gud HyacinthTeabag: more mc streams hurrah celuere: ughmen, real.  i_came_i_saw_i_failed: Hi dad! If you had a fursona, what would it be? edgeray: was about to study for an exam. nvm, ig persPenguin: father i got an A on my math test GamerGoose07: Teacatlady 10 cloudpawgames: !!!!_self-insert_!!!! capybarasrock: where is Bambi Jr.  Magic_catboi: gamergoose have some faith. 15.  Dadleftforemilk: father, drop a tutorial on how to get your dad to come back  Teacatlady: A spider, obviously @I_came_i_saw_i_failed

Arlecchino stretches in her chair, watching her chat flood with messages. “I am pleased that your day has been pleasant. persPenguin, excellent job. Just as I said, you have nothing to worry about as long as you do your best. If any of you have not eaten today yet, know that I am disappointed. This is your reminder to grab a snack, as the stream won’t start for a few minutes.” 

celuere: step on me

Ignoring that, Arlecchino scrolls back up her chat. “Bambi Jr.? She is doing just fine. Let me go get her.” Arlecchino rises from her chair and removes her bunny-eared headset, walking off camera to the right. She returns, a juvenile tarantula wandering over her tattooed arms. 

Worstchestersauce: teacatlady that’s not very skibidi!!!! >:(((( capybarasrock: bambi!!  i_do_myth: late, but i am here! hi father!! cloudpawgames: What type of spider is she again? horrerfilms: tell bambi i said hi Jean_notJohn: hello Dadleftforemilk: father, will you be my dad Magic_catboi: look at hwo good bambi jr. is. very mindful, very demure Worstchestersauce: teacatlady. seven HyacinthTeabag: we love bambi jr we say in unison  Dadleftforemilk: pls 

The streamer smiles, letting the spider crawl onto her palm, standing patiently as if posing for the viewers. “Today has been going well for me. Yes, hello to the people still joining in. I went to the gym earlier this morning, had a good session, and ordered my favorite takeout afterwards. Very relaxed weekend today. I am excited for the stream, [Name] and I have played Minecraft a couple of times in the last few weeks, but this is the first time we’ll be streaming.”   

She pauses at one of the latest messages. “What is demure?”

Unsurprisingly, it is another slang term that has cropped up. New internet lingo crops up like weeds, she thinks, and once more, everyone is calling her a boomer. A donation message comes through, and Arlecchino reads it outloud.

“LilacLazernator, thank you for the donation. ‘Day 193892 of asking you to call chat your little pog…champ?’” Arlecchino sounds out the last word. Vaguely, she recalls the term–was this not used during the earlier years of Covid? She continues the rest of the donation. “‘(please I need the validation).’ How do you all feel about this?”

Magic_catboi: YAS father!1!!11! HyacinthTeabag: call us your little pogchamp GamerGoose07: do it do it do it Teacatlady: Say it

Arlecchino pinches the bridge of her nose with her free hand, letting Bambi Jr. crawl over her lap for a little bit. Sighing, she stares deadpanned at the camera. She opens her lips, but purses them the next moment, another sigh emerging from her. 

“How are we feeling today… my little pogchamps?” Could regret ever be more instant? 

 Teacatlady: This is being clipped

The chat has a brief seizure as she picks up Bambi Jr. again, hearing a discord ping message through her headset and she quickly goes off camera to place Bambi Jr. back in her enclosure. 

“Give me one moment, I believe [Name] just messaged me.” 

_self-insert_  ready to go when you are! server is up. you got the server address? knave yes. is your stream set up? we can call? _self-insert_ yes! let me go call you.

The discord call ringtone sounds through, and she accepts the call. 

“Knave! How are you doing today?” your voice sounds through.  

“Good, good. And you?” 

“Great! Are you having any trou–oh, there you are!” 

xKnavex joined the game

Arlecchino’s character spawns in a meadow, trees scarce across a grassy landscape. Pigs and cows graze the land, and a chicken clucks somewhere nearby. The Knave find’s _self-insert_’s character punching a tree, and walks over. 

“Here for the morning wood, huh?” _self-insert_ teases as the two of them punch the same tree. 

Arlecchino rolls her eyes. “As if I would be interested in any wood,” she quips back. With the tree now demolished by their fists, leaving floating leaves, they move onto the next nearby tree.  

“Not much of a Minecraft builder are you?” _self-insert_ jokes, some cheekiness in your tone as your character travels to find the nearest cave. Meanwhile, Arlecchino searches for food, promptly smacking wildlife with her fists.

‘Not what I meant,’ Arlecchino comments to herself, but answers back with a grin, “You're the Minecraft expert here, _self-insert_, not me. Aren't you here to teach me?” 

You let out a melodic chuckle, and Arlecchino swears she could listen to it forever. “Yeah? You want me to make you an expert?” Your voice dips a bit, a sweet, silky tone that nearly makes the Knave shiver. You drop down into the mouth of a cave, mining enough cobblestone for an upgraded pickaxe, then delving deeper for coal. 

“Not as good as you,” the Knave replies, a slight shake of her head. Arlecchino comes across a pig. The first hit is a success, but as the pig squeals and scatters, the next sequential punches aren’t so successful.  

“I dunno, I can be a good teacher. If you're a good listener.”

“I can listen well.” After the nth hit, the pig finally dies, rewarding Arlecchino with just a single raw porkchop. 

“Really well?” 

“As good as I can be. I'll be good for you.” 

“Just for me?”

 “Of course. Whose going to teach me how to build our house?”

Another laugh comes from the other end of the call, the warmth in Arlecchin’s chest growing just from sound. “Oh, we’re sharing the same house? I wasn’t aware we were at that stage already in our relationship.” 

“Our beds next to each other in our past worlds didn’t tell you enough? I’m hurt,” Arlecchino says, faux disappointment in her voice, a visible pout from her apparent through her face camera. “I thought we were closer than that, aren’t we?” 

“I’ll move in with you again if you can give me some food,” _self-insert_ replies as her character resurfaces from the cave, a full set of stone tools and some ores in her inventory. 

Arlecchino brutally eviscerates a cow with a clenched fist of raw porkchops. “Of course, I have some food for you. Where are you?” 

“Aww, you miss me already? Give me your cords.” 

As Arlecchino struggles to find the F3 button, the stream chat explodes. 

Jean_notJohn: what happened to hi, hello, gm? i_do_myth: is ths flirting Worstchestersauce: what– Conquer_of_Gluesticsk: 😮 Magic_catboi: what a stsrt to a stream ughmen: we loe lesbianism horrerfilms: father y r u alr flirting Jean_notJohn: we get it father, you’re a lesbian ShakespeareSock: lesbian tries not to be lesbian challenge failed Teacatlady: Do the two of you need the room?  HauntedMolerat: r they dating???? ths their first stream right? DilfDigger: local lesbian flirts with another woman after .1 seconds of meeting Dadleftforemilk: are we interrupting something persPenguin: father why Worstchestersauce: since when were they together??? 0o0 capybarasrock: sesbian lex?!!?!?!1 GamerGoose07: stop being gay and make wooden tools iloverats34: oil up steponmepwettypls: when are you making out???

Like an absent father, Arlecchino neglects her chat in favor of still struggling to find her coordinates with your assistance. By this point, you have dug yourself in a hole and Arlecchino is screenrecording her game to _self-insert_. (“Okay, did you find the F3 button? Yeah? Okay, okay, look to the left, THE LEFT, to the LEFT, uh huh, yeah, top-middle-ish. Did you find it yet? No, okay, move your mouse, wait. Wait. It’s, it’s there, it’s right there, right there! Do you see it?! Do I need that big red circle from those clickbait videos!? Oh okay, you found it? Okay, read it out loud for me. Good job.”) 

Arlecchino finds shelter on top of a tree, while you make the dangerous trek of searching for the Knave, weaving past creepers and dodging arrows as your hunger persists. You cross from one end of the forest to the next, and climb arduously up a mountain, determined to rescue your damsel in distress.

“I'm being shot at,” the white-haired streamer protests, her character prancing on top of a treetop in circles to avoid the arrows of skeletons. She is determined to stay alive until you can come, all the faith in you that you will be able to protect her any minute now. 

“I’m coming! I should be there in a second! I should be close by. Wait, you’re in a tree right?” You scan your surroundings, scoping out the barren mountain side. 

“Yes?”

“It’s 100 and 900 for the x and z coordinates, right?”

“Yes, wait.” Arlecchino goes to check her coordinates, realizing her grave mistake. “It’s negative 900.”

A moment of silence occurs between them, the only thing audible is the clacking of Arlecchino’s keyboard and the shuffling of leaves. 

“I’m going to jump off a cliff.” 

“Wait–” 

Arlecchino successfully discourages your character down from the mountain, and by morning, you finally found her, perched in a tree. 

“Give me my food please.” 

“Okay, here’s some chicken.”

“This is raw.” 

Arlecchino goes into her inventory to search for the right food. She drops several pieces of lambchops. 

“This is raw too.” 

“...you can still eat them.”

Your character begins walking away from her, chewing onto your uncooked poultry. You sigh out, “I want a divorce.”

“What? For what?” Arlecchino croaks out in utter bafflement. “We were married?” 

“This is weaponized incompetence. I wanted cooked food.” A faux sob comes from your end. “I’m taking the kids with me.” 

“What kids?!” 

You sniffle. “Get out of my house.”

“We haven’t even built one.” 

“Well, build one so I can kick you out of it.” 

“You mean you’re no longer gonna sleep next to me?”

A bout of silence, before you admit defeat. “You make a good point. You can’t cuddle me if we’re divorced.”

“So we’re still married and I’m no longer kicked out of our hypothetical house?” 

“Only if you can build our house.” 

“I thought you were teaching me how to build.” 

“Nope. You have to prove yourself to be worthy of marrying me. And I’m going to be busy.”

“Busy doing what?” 

Arlecchino could practically hear the smile through your words. “Mining for a diamond.” 

“Just one diamond?”

“Yeah. Who do you think will be proposing?” 

GamerGoose07: marriage speedrun??? Magic_catboi: father with the RIZZ?!1?1? cloudpawgames: I can’t tell ifthey’re like not dating or not Jean_notJohn: are they joking? Or like, fr? HauntedMolerat: they sound like my parents  ughmen: i know lesbian move in fast but… not that fast  Conquer_of_Gluesticks: drop tutorial on how to achieve wife Teacatlady: Father, you never told us that _self-insert_ was your girlfriend steponmepwettypls: there is no reason for you guys to be this cute and gay omg 

“My chat thinks we’re dating,” Arlecchino says as she collects wood.

“Aren’t we?”

“In real life, they mean.”

“We can make that happen too, you know.”

Arlecchino nearly chokes on her spit. “Are you asking me… out?”

You contemplate it for a moment. “You know what? Yeah, I am.”

“I… I accept?” 

“Great. Our next date is going to be off stream.” 

“What–” 

BONUS SCENES

“So how do you like the house?”

“It’s…”

“Be nice.”

“I’m trying.” 

“It’s not that bad, right?”

“Yeah… if we were in 2014. Maybe I should have taught you first.” 

— 

“Hey, you know if you press ‘Q’ while holding a pickaxe near lava, it reveals ores underneath the lava?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“... do you still have those divorce papers?” 

— 

“Watch out it’s a creeper!”

“AW MAN!”

“Where is this music coming from–”

—

“HyacinthTeabag, thank you for the donation. ‘I will bark if you do a waterbucket MLG.’ What’s an MLG, _self-insert_?”

“Oh, it’s easy. Watch this.”

“I can do that.” 

xKnavex fell from a high place. 

— 

“Teacatlady says: ‘Father, here are some minecraft pickup lines to help you seduce–’”

“Seduce?!” 

“‘–_self-insert_: Are you a redstone torch? Because you turn me on.’” 

“Wow, I’ve never felt more aroused.” 

“‘You must be a wolf because I want to give you my bone.’”

A bout of silence. _self-insert_’s character does a slow turn towards the Knave. 

“‘Can I fertalize your crop with my bonemeal?’” 

_self-insert_ remains silent to ensure that Arlecchino is done, before letting out a dramatic sigh. “You’re just so sexy. Make love to me right now.”

“Right here in this cave? Our first time deserves somewhere better.” 

“You’re right. Let’s go back up to the surface.” 

—

“Did you know you can dye beds? I got poppies so that you can dye your bed red.”

“I didn’t know that. What color do you like?” 

“I like magenta, but their flowers are kind of hard to come by.”

“What flowers?” 

“Alliums or lilacs.” 

An hour later. 

“Why do we have 43 Alliums in our chest?”

“I thought you wanted to dye your bed…” 

—

For the record, Father only died 11 times. Keep inventory had to be turned on after the third death.

[edgeray]

Hi Edgeray, how are you? Question. Do you also write for Chainsawman or any other series?

Hi, I'm as good as I can be with finals 🥲😅. Nope, no other series, sorry :3 thanks for asking anon

[edgeray]

writing this makes me realize how unfunny I am actually help 🥲

Attempting to write video game streamer au fic arlecchino x reader, but I am having trouble coming up with usernames and chat messages.

Essentially the idea is a Minecraft (sorry, it's the only game I'ce watched streams of) collab stream with _self-insert_ [reader, obvs, the username is subject to change if someone gets me a better idea]. Arlecchino, of course, has to be a total girlfailure.

if anyone wants, put a username (does not have to be tumblr) and what you would say in streamer! Arlecchino's chat (no limitations, be as unhinged as you'd want).

Also, any suggestions for usernames of other characters, like Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet, and maybe the other Harbingers are appreciated. Or any moments/scenes you think should happen on stream.

Feel free to either put ideas in the comments of this post or through my inbox. :)

[edgeray]

i just know tiktok editors would loveeee editing streamer arlecchino

oh yeah, definetely. arlecchino constantly clipfarms with her interactions with her chat too. her voice just makes for very good edit voiceovers. and all the ship edits with reader too? everyone eats that up.