A heart in need | Scaramouche x Reader

Counting dog

"[Y/N], are you sure you're alright?" A pair of hands shook you awake. The evening sun shone through the little opening of your tent as your eyes found the person whom those hands belonged to. Ah. Right. You were on Watatsumi, and were just about to take a very quick nap before being so rudely interrupted.

"I am." You replied. "Just a little tired. Milord has me working overtime." A month of staying in Inazuma, and all you did was count the products that were being sent over to the Watatsumi Army. And Raiden be damned, there were a lot of them. All delusions sent over to soldiers whom would use them until their last dying breath. 

"Haha..." The Fatui agent in front of you let out a soulless laughter. It was an awkward position that they found themselves to be in. If they were to say something incriminating about whether their lord was making them work overtime..
Scaramouche really did take 'Work until you drop' serious. It wasn't uncommon for a soldier to drop due to his angry outbursts, though.

Either way, if Scaramouche were to hear of something that even so much as resembled disrespect, both you and the Agent would be in trouble.

"Well, anyway, the Lord expects you. He has just returned." The Agent decided to just gloss over it. You nodded. The chair made a horrible squeak noise as you pushed it back to get up. "I'll be there."

"Hurry... He doesn't seem pleased. Maybe that meeting with Kokomi went wrong." 
With that, the Agent left. You made sure to get to his tent within a minute or two. The Lord wasn't a patient man, nor a forgiving one. 

The camp you resided in was quite organised. Most Fatui Agents were out and about, scouting around. There was a small group of Agents huddling around, chit-chatting away during their break. 

You hadn't even opened your mouth to announce your arrival to the Harbinger when you heard his voice. "Get in, [Y/N]. Now." 
The flaps of the tent parted slightly before falling back into their original place, swaying gently as they did so. 

"Milord." You spoke as you kneeled down near his desk. Scaramouche was sitting down, and although you couldn't see him with your gaze on the ground, you knew very well he was staring at you. 

"Two-thousand and four-hundred-fifty-three delusions." He spoke slowly. Dragged out each and every word he spoke. "Twelve are unaccounted for. This was your job. You should've counted them. Why did you mess up? Look at me. [Y/N]. Look. At. Me." 

The Lord didn't quite like it when his subordinates were gawking at him everytime he said something directly to them. It was an unspoken rule. You slowly moved your head to lock eyes with the man. "Milord has been piling work on top of work on me. My total hours worth of sleep this past week has been nine. Combined." A pang of annoyance shot through you. Today, you had to count everything thrice. Could barely stay awake as you saw two delusions while there should've been one.

"Oh, so you do know how to count! That's great!" The Balladeer countered, tapping his fingers onto the desk impatiently. "I don't know why I've entrusted this work to you. After all, little pets aren't quite capable of counting well, are they?" 

A moment of silence followed as you calmed yourself. Nothing good was going to come out of arguing. Your eyes darted somewhere else, far away from the Balladeer's face. As a response, he cocked his head slightly, immediately getting your attention back.

"No, milord." Your voice was steady. At your response, the expression seemed to change on his face. From a deatlhy stare to a more relaxed smile. 

"You've improved that temper of yours." Opposite of just now, his voice was sickly sweet. There was practically honey dripping off of it. He stood up, and crouched down in front of you. His fingers gently caressed your cheek. You couldn't help but briefly close your eyes and move your head just the slightest bit, so you could feel his fingers more.