potchi's 'what if' series #5: Arlecchino when it comes to being a first time parent (ft. pregnant reader)
cw: mentions of Arlecchino’s dangerous lifestyle and past violence (non-graphic), themes of overprotectiveness and mild possessiveness, pregnancy-related discomfort (mood swings, cravings, fatigue), emotional vulnerability, fear of parenthood
word count: 930
a/n: guess what? we were assigned at the ob-gyne ward and i got inspired to put arlecchino in the shoes of a sweet, loving first-time dad i met while giving health teachings :)
The moment Arlecchino finds out you’re pregnant, she becomes ten times more protective. No one can so much as look at you wrong without facing her wrath.
Despite her stoic and commanding nature, she has a hidden soft side that only emerges when she's alone with you, whispering reassurances and rubbing your belly.
She somehow always manages to find whatever strange food combination you crave, even if it means pulling strings in Fontaine to get it.
Arlecchino often stays awake, watching over you and running her fingers through your hair, making sure you’re comfortable.
Though she pretends to be indifferent about names, you catch her testing out different ones under her breath when she thinks you’re asleep.
The first time the baby kicks, she completely freezes. She’s never been caught off guard before, but this? This is a moment she never expected.
Even before birth, she speaks to your belly in a quiet, almost reverent tone, telling the baby about the world and promising to protect both of you.
Despite being busy with Fatui affairs, she personally oversees preparations for the nursery, ensuring everything is perfect and safe.
If you're in a crowded area, she keeps a firm hand on you at all times, positioning herself between you and any potential threat.
She never thought she'd be the type to enjoy affection, but now she finds herself constantly touching your belly—whether it's a protective hand, a soft rub, or resting her head against it to feel the baby move.
She starts reading stories aloud, even if she scoffs about it, saying, "It’s never too early to teach them discipline."
If you suggest baby-related shopping, she initially grumbles but secretly enjoys picking out tiny clothes and imagining your child in them.
(short fic incoming)
Arlecchino had faced war, betrayal, and the harshest winters of Snezhnaya without so much as a flinch, but nothing in the world had prepared her for this.
You stood before her, your hands gently resting over your abdomen, the ghost of a smile playing at your lips. “I’m pregnant.”
For the first time in her life, the Knave was at a loss for words. The walls she had so carefully built around herself wavered, her crimson gaze flickering between your eyes and the place where new life grew within you.
Pregnant. With her child.
A rush of emotions surged within her—pride, awe, and a fear so profound it nearly brought her to her knees. She took a measured breath, steeling herself as she reached out, fingers barely grazing your belly. “You’re certain?”
You nodded, warmth radiating from your touch as you took her hand fully in yours. “I wouldn’t lie about something like this.”
Arlecchino had never considered herself the parental type. She was a protector, a commander, a shadow in the night who ensured order with an iron will. But now? Now, she was something more—a future father, a provider, and the sole shield between you and the dangers of the world.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” she vowed, voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “Or our child.”
The days that followed were unlike anything you had expected. Arlecchino, usually calm and composed, had become hyper-aware of everything around you. If you so much as sighed in discomfort, she was there in an instant, her hand against your back, her gaze sharp and calculating.
“You need to sit,” she would demand, already guiding you toward the nearest chair.
“Peruere, I’m pregnant, not fragile,” you huffed, though you allowed her to fuss over you.
Her lips pursed. “Same thing.”
At night, she barely slept. You would wake up to find her resting a protective hand over your stomach, her expression unreadable. The weight of impending parenthood was heavy on her shoulders, and yet, she bore it with a quiet, steadfast determination.
When the baby kicked for the first time, she froze. You had been reading in bed, her arm draped lazily over your stomach, when the small but distinct movement pressed against her palm.
Her breath caught. Slowly, her fingers traced over the spot.
“They’re strong already,” she murmured, her voice laced with something you could only describe as reverence.
“Like their father,” you teased.
Her expression softened, and she leaned down to press a rare, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Like their mother.”
As the months passed, her protectiveness only grew. She arranged for the safest medical care, ensured your every craving was met, and personally oversaw every detail of your well-being. The Fatui, ever loyal to her, knew better than to question her sudden shift in priorities.
One night, as you lay curled against her, she whispered, “I never thought I’d have this.”
You tilted your head to look at her. “A family?”
She nodded, crimson eyes flickering with something vulnerable. “I never dared to dream of it. But now that I have you… now that we have them—” Her hand ghosted over your belly, warm and protective. “I won’t let anything take this away from us.”
And in that moment, you knew—for all her strength, all her fearsome reputation, Arlecchino had never been stronger than she was now, holding onto the love she never thought she deserved.
I may die if I don't get more of parent arle--like, her holding her child for the first time and learning how to take care of a baby. On one hand I can see her being an absolute unit when it comes to parenting, having read every parenting book for babies, but on the other I can see her being a total girlfailure who tries so hard but doesn't get it sometimes. Also, if the HotH exists with this, what about HotH interactions with Arle's child?
I LOVE THIS YES i can definitely expand on her first time holding the baby, her parenting learning curve (balancing “I’ve read everything” with “why is it crying I did everything right”) and interactions with the hoth kids.
Father Arlecchino (like for real, she's a dad) - part 2
potchi's 'what if' series #5: Arlecchino when it comes to being a first time parent (ft. pregnant reader & the hoth kiddos!)
cw: fluff, fluff, and moreee fluff
word count: 1005
Girlfailure Arlecchino Looks deeply betrayed the first time the baby refuses to stop crying despite her doing everything right.
Holds up a bottle like it’s an unfamiliar weapon. "Why is this so small? My hand barely fits around it."
Tries to maintain her composed reputation but completely panics the first time the baby spits up on her coat. (“They are… rejecting my presence.” “No, Perrie, babies just do that.”)
Attempts to bathe the baby for the first time and treats it like a high-stakes mission. “If I drop them—” “You won’t drop them, Arle.” “But if I did—”
Gets way too serious about tummy time. "You expect me to let them struggle on purpose?"
Tries to keep a straight face but visibly melts the first time the baby smiles at her.
The orphans are fascinated by the baby. To them, Arlecchino is the strongest person alive, so seeing her care for such a tiny, fragile thing is mind-blowing.
Some of the younger kids are completely awestruck. "So small…!" The older ones pretend to be cool about it but keep peeking into the nursery like they’re on an important mission.
A few try to act as self-proclaimed "big siblings," (lyney, lynette, freminet) offering to help in the most unhelpful ways.
"Father, I can teach them how to fight." "They can’t even sit up yet, Lynette."
One particularly nosy kid asks, “Do they have a Vision yet?” Arlecchino just gives them a flat stare.
At first, she tries to keep her roles separate, but the House of the Hearth kids keep finding ways to sneak into the nursery.
Eventually, she sighs and lets the most well-behaved ones stay, though under strict rules. “If you wake them, you deal with the consequences.”
To her surprise, the children are incredibly gentle, some sitting quietly just to watch the baby.
One day, she walks in to find a group of them gathered around the crib, whispering stories to the baby as if introducing them to their new family.
Freminet clumsily offers the baby a stuffed toy version of Pers. "For when they get bigger."
One of the orphans shyly asks, “Will they be part of the House of the Hearth too?” Arlecchino takes a long pause before replying, “They will always have a home here.”
Late one night, when the baby refuses to sleep, she finds herself pacing the halls of the orphanage with them in her arms.
Lyney, Lyenette, & Freminet sleepily watches from their bedroom door. "Father, you look tired."
She chuckles, exhaustion evident in her eyes. "I am."
Freminet hesitates before whispering, "You always took care of us. Let us help too."
Arlecchino doesn’t respond immediately—but later, she lets them keep watch while the baby naps.
(short fic incoming)
The House of the Hearth had always been a place of discipline and order, built upon the foundation of strength that Arlecchino upheld. Yet, today, it was filled with something entirely new—gentle laughter, soft coos, and the quiet awe of its inhabitants gathered around the smallest member of their family.
Lyney crouched in front of the crib, twirling a card between his fingers as he examined the wide-eyed baby staring up at him. “You know, I think you have the makings of a great magician already,” he mused. “Those big, curious eyes? The way you watch everything around you? Very promising.”
Lynette stood beside him, her tail flicking slightly as she tilted her head. “They can’t even sit up yet, brother.”
“A minor detail.” He grinned before flicking his wrist, making the card disappear in a swirl of harmless sparks. The baby’s mouth parted in an expression of utter astonishment.
A tiny giggle.
Lyney gasped dramatically, hand over his heart. “Did you hear that? Their first audience reaction! I knew they appreciated my talent.”
“They probably just liked the sparkles,” Lynette deadpanned, though her ears twitched in amusement.
Freminet, who had been watching quietly from a short distance, hesitated before stepping forward. Unlike his siblings, he wasn’t quite sure how to interact with someone so small. He had spent years navigating the cold depths of Fontaine’s waters, understanding machines, and working with clockwork devices—but a baby? That was unknown territory.
Still, he crouched down beside the crib, pulling out a small, handcrafted penguin plush from his bag. “Here,” he murmured, placing it gently beside them. “Something to keep you company.”
The baby immediately reached out, small fingers curling around the soft fabric. They let out a delighted squeal, squeezing it tightly.
Arlecchino, standing by the doorway with arms crossed, watched the scene unfold with an unreadable expression. She had expected some level of curiosity from the children she had raised, but what she hadn’t expected was the warmth in her chest seeing them interact so tenderly with her child.
Freminet glanced back at her, eyes uncertain. “Are we… doing it right?”
She blinked.
Lyney turned as well, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’ve never had someone so little here before,” he admitted. “I mean, we all grew up together, but they’re… different.”
Arlecchino let out a quiet sigh, stepping closer. She reached down, running a gloved hand over her child’s soft hair before addressing them. “You’re doing fine.” A pause. Then, softer, “Better than fine.”
Lyney beamed. “Then I suppose we have a new little sibling to take care of.”
Lynette gave a small nod. “I suppose so.”
Freminet hesitated before murmuring, “I’ll make sure they have warm clothes when they get older.”
Arlecchino’s lips twitched into the faintest ghost of a smile. “They’ll be lucky to have you all.”
As the baby let out another giggle, this time reaching for Lyney’s hand, Arlecchino knew one thing for certain—her child was not just hers to protect. They were part of a family, one filled with warmth, mischief, and unwavering love.
And in that moment, the House of the Hearth had never felt more like home.
Summary: Neurosurgeon Arlecchino is known for her precise hands and icy professionalism, but when it comes to you—her favorite ER nurse—her self-control is constantly tested. After a particularly grueling shift, you find yourselves alone in an empty on-call room, and all the tension that’s been simmering between you two finally reaches its breaking point.
cw: explicit content (NSFW, smut, M-rated), hospital setting (on-call room encounter), strong tension & power dynamics, mentions of stress relief (post-shift exhaustion leading to boombayah hehe), mild possessiveness
word count: 2218
a/n: HI sorry for being inactive again, ive been terribly busy for the past few days (when was i not?). anyways so here is the doctor arle x nurse reader smut fic that i promised; this is quite the challenge honestly bcs ive been retired from writing smut but then again, i havent really written anything arlecchino smut related so here we are. this is my longest work yet since i mostly specialize in short angsty fics. very challenging but i welcome such challenges to exercise my writing skills. anyways, pls enjoy!
The on-call room was dimly lit, the faint hum of hospital machinery the only sound between you and Arlecchino. The exhaustion from your shift weighed heavily on your shoulders, but not as much as the weight of her gaze.
"You overwork yourself," she murmured, voice steady but laced with something else—something darker.
You huffed a tired laugh, leaning against the small cot in the room. "That’s rich, coming from you, Doctor."
Arlecchino stepped closer, and your breath hitched as she reached out, fingers brushing against your wrist. It was such a simple touch, yet it sent a shiver down your spine. She was always so controlled, so careful, but tonight, that control seemed razor-thin.
"You should take better care of yourself," she continued, and though her tone was firm, there was an unmistakable softness in her touch as she traced the bandage on your arm—the one she had placed earlier that night.
Your pulse quickened. "And if I don’t?"
Her lips curled into a ghost of a smirk, her crimson eyes darkening as she leaned in, pressing her body just close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from her.
"Then I'll just have to do it for you," she murmured, her breath fanning against your ear.
You swallowed hard. The air was thick with tension, an unspoken challenge passing between you. It had always been like this—stolen glances, lingering touches, unspoken promises left hanging in the space between duty and desire. But tonight, there was no operating room. No sterile professionalism to hide behind.
Just the two of you.
And the moment she closed the distance, pressing her lips against yours in a slow, deliberate kiss, you knew there was no turning back.
Her hands, usually so steady with a scalpel, now traced fire along your skin. The kiss deepened, her tongue sweeping against yours with an urgency that made your knees weak. You barely registered her guiding you back onto the cot until your back hit the mattress, her body pressing against yours, the scent of antiseptic and something uniquely her flooding your senses.
"You drive me insane," she muttered against your lips, her hands slipping beneath your scrubs, fingers tracing along your waist.
You let out a shaky exhale, gripping her coat to pull her closer. "Then do something about it."
Her low chuckle sent a shiver down your spine, and the last thread of restraint snapped. Arlecchino's lips curled into a smirk as she noticed your nervousness. She enjoyed seeing the effect she had on others, especially those who worked for her.
“Good," she said, her tone firm yet seductive. “Now, let's see if you can handle the pressure.” Without warning, Arlecchino grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you close. You gasped, your face flushed as you found herself pressed against the doctor's body. “Dr. Arlecchino, what are you--?” Arlecchino silenced your protest with a firm kiss, her full lips crashing against yours in a display of raw dominance.
Your eyes widened in shock, but soon found yourself melting into the passionate embrace, your own desires beginning to surface. Arlecchino's cursed hands roamed your body, groping and exploring every curve. She broke the kiss, leaving you breathless and wanting more. “You're mine now,” Arlecchino growled possessively, her voice thick with lust. “And I take care of what's mine.” Arlecchino's hands slid down to your hips, gripping them tightly as she backed you up against the wall. She pinned you in place with her body, curves pressing together in a way that sent electric jolts of desire between you and her.
“I'm going to break you, miss nurse,” Arlecchino purred, nipping at the sensitive skin below your ear. “Mold you into the perfect toy, ready and eager to please me.” Her hand slid up your thigh, pushing the skirt of your uniform higher. Arlecchino's touch was firm and demanding, leaving no room for hesitation or refusal.
“Say you're mine”
Your breath hitched as Arlecchino's fingers brushed against your inner thigh, teasing and tantalizing. You knew well enough that you should resist, should push the doctor away and report this inappropriate behavior. However the allure of submission, the dark desire to be claimed and controlled, was too powerful to ignore. “I'm yours, Peruere,” you whispered, her voice trembling with a blend of fear and longing. “Please…”
Arlecchino chuckled, a low, seductive sound that reverberated through the nurse's body. “That's right, Miss nurse. You belong to me now.” Arlecchino's hand slipped beneath your panties, her fingers finding the wet heat between your legs. She groaned softly at the discovery, her touch becoming more insistent and demanding. “Already so wet for me,” Arlecchino murmured, her thumb circling your clit in maddening patterns. “Such a needy little thing, aren't you?” You whimpered, hips bucking involuntarily against Arlecchino's hand. The doctor's touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure crashing through her body. “Please, Peruere,” you begged.
Arlecchino's crimson lips curled into a wicked smile as she listened to your desperate pleas. She reveled in the power she held over you, the control she exerted with just a touch.
“What do you want, Miss nurse?” Arlecchino cooed, her fingers continuing their torturous dance. “Beg for it. Beg for me to make you feel good.” Your face flushed a deeper shade of red, embarrassment battling with the overwhelming desire consuming you. You knew you shouldn't want this, shouldn't crave the doctor's touch so desperately. But the ache between your legs grew stronger with each passing second, demanding to be satisfied.
“Please, pretty please Peruere,” Your voice cracked with desperation as you finally gave in to her deepest desires. “Please, touch me more. I need you to make me feel good. I'll do anything you want, just please don't stop.”
A slow, satisfied smile spread across Arlecchino's lips, her eyes gleaming with triumph and lust. She loved breaking in her toys, watching them surrender to her every command. “That's a good girl,” Arlecchino purred, rewarding the nurse's obedience with a gentle kiss. Her fingers slipped lower, teasing the entrance to your dripping core. “I'm going to make you feel things you've never experienced before. I'm going to ruin you for anyone else.” With a swift movement, Arlecchino plunged two fingers deep into your tight heat, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. She pumped her fingers in and out, setting a relentless pace that left you breathless and writhing against the wall.
“So tight,” Arlecchino growled, her free hand gripping your hip possessively. “So perfect for me. You were made to be mine, weren't you?” You could only nod frantically, her words lost in a tangle of moans and whimpers. Arlecchino's fingers were magic, stoking the flames of her desire and for a moment, you thought you might combust from the intensity. “More, please more,” Arlecchino's fingers curled inside you, hitting that sweet spot that made stars explode behind your eyes. You gasped, back arching off the wall as waves of pleasure crashed over your body. ”That's it, Miss nurse,” Arlecchino cooed, her voice thick with lust. “Let go. Give yourself to me completely.”
Your body trembled, teetering on the edge of ecstasy. Arlecchino's thumb circled your clit, pushing you over the precipice. You cried out, orgasm ripping through you like a tidal wave, leaving you weak and shaking in the doctor's arms. As you came down from your high, Arlecchino slowly withdrew her fingers, bringing them to her lips and licking them clean with a satisfied hum. “Delicious,” she purred, her eyes never leaving your flushed face. “I knew you'd taste divine.” You blushed even deeper, mortified by the doctor's brazen actions yet still craving more of her touch. Arlecchino chuckled, “Don't worry, Miss nurse, we are far from done.”
Arlecchino spun you around, pressing your front against the cool wall. She hiked up your skirt furthur, exposing her round, firm ass to the doctor's hungry gaze. “I'm going to fuck you now,” Arlecchino declared, her voice leaving no room for argument. “I'm going to claim this tight little pussy as mine.”
You whimpered, anticipation and nervousness warring within you. You had never done anything like this before, never been taken so roughly and dominantly. But your body ached for it, craving the feeling of Arlecchino's cock splitting you open. “Please, Peruere,” you begged. Arlecchino unfastened her pants, freeing her large, throbbing cock. She rubbed the tip against your dripping entrance, teasing her with the promise of what was to come. “Beg for it,” Arlecchino commanded, her voice a low, seductive growl. “Beg me to fuck you, to make you mine.”
Your face burned with shame and desire, body trembling with need. You knew she should resist from the beginning, however you were far too deep to back out and the dark, forbidden pleasure was too tempting to ignore. “Please, Peruere. Fuck me; breed me with your large cock” you cried. Satisfied, Arlecchino's grip on your hips tightened, her nails digging into the soft flesh as she lined up her thick cock with your soaked entrance.
With one powerful thrust, she buried herself deep inside your tight heat, stretching her wide around her impressive girth. “Fuck, you're so tight,” Arlecchino groaned, relishing the way your walls fluttered around her. “Such a good little slut for me, taking my cock so well.”
You cried out, a mixture of pain and pleasure as Arlecchino filled you completely. The doctor set a brutal pace, pounding into you with animalistic fervor, claiming her roughly and possessively. “Yes, yes, oh god!” Arlecchino's hips snapped forward, driving her thick cock deeper into your tight cunt. Your walls clenched around her, trying to pull her in even further. Arlecchino growled, a primal sound of possession and lust. “This is where you belong, miss nurse,”
Arlecchino rasped, her voice rough with desire. “Stretched out on my cock, milking me for every drop. I'm going to fill this fertile little pussy with my seed, breed you like the needy bitch you are.”
You moaned, body shaking with the force of Arlecchino's thrusts. Each powerful stroke sent shockwaves, building the pressure inside you. “Please, Peruere, please fill me,” you begged. Arlecchino's pace became frenzied, her hips slamming against your ass with enough force. The lewd sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoed through the office, mingling with the nurse's desperate cries and Arlecchino's dominant growls.
“Take it,” Arlecchino commanded, her cock pulsing inside the nurse's tight heat. “Take every inch of my cock like the good little breeder you are. I'm going to pump you full of my cum, make this belly swell with my child.”
Your body quivered, teetering on the brink of ecstasy. Arlecchino reached around, her fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing it in tight circles. You screamed, orgasm crashing over as your pussy spasmed around Arlecchino's cock, squirting your juices down the doctor's thighs.
“Fuck, yes,” Arlecchino let out a feral growl as the nurse's pussy squeezed her cock, the rhythmic contractions milking her towards her own climax. She slammed into you one last time, burying herself balls-deep as her cock throbbed and pulsed, unleashing a torrent of hot, thick cum directly into your fertile womb.
“That's it, miss nurse,” Arlecchino rasped, her hips grinding against your ass as she emptied herself inside you. “Take my seed, let it fill you up. You're mine now, forever.” You whimpered, body still shaking from the aftershocks of the intense orgasm. You could feel Arlecchino's cum dripping out of your used hole, marking her as the doctor's property.
“Such a good girl,” Arlecchino said as she pulled out slowly, admiring the sight of her cum leaking from your well-fucked pussy. She ran her fingers through the mess, gathering some of her essence before pushing it back inside your twitching hole.
“Keep it all inside, miss nurse,” Arlecchino ordered, her voice still rough with lust. “Don't waste a single drop of my seed. You're going to keep it nice and warm for me.” You nodded weakly, legs trembling as you tried to stay upright. Arlecchino wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you close.
“You did so well, taking my cock like that,” Arlecchino buried herself deep inside your sopping wet pussy one last time and held it there, “A nice, big cockwarming for my favorite nurse. Keep it all nice and warm inside you, like a good girl.”
You shivered, feeling Arlecchino's softening cock filling you up as she carried you all the way to her desk and settled you down on her lap. Arlecchino helped you turn around, pulling you into a gentle embrace. You melted into the doctor's arms, body still trembling from the intensity of their coupling.
“Shh, I've got you,” Arlecchino gently said as she leaned down and peppered you with the softest kisses around your face. Silence settled in the aftermath, heavy with lingering heat and quiet breaths. She didn’t pull away, instead tracing lazy patterns against your bare skin.
Eventually, you found your voice. "So… is this where you tell me this was a terrible lapse in judgment and it can never happen again?" Arlecchino chuckled, a rare, low sound that sent shivers down your spine. "No." She pressed a slow kiss against your shoulder before murmuring, "This is where I tell you it’s going to happen again."
Summary: When a noblewoman at a diplomatic event starts flirting with Arlecchino, testing the boundaries of your patience, you’re forced to confront the ugly, burning jealousy you never wanted to admit existed. Does Arlecchino even notice? Or worse—does she enjoy the attention?
a/n: hehe i like olivia rodrigo's song off from her album sour. this is so cool to make honestly, pls enjoy!!
The grand ballroom of the Fontaine Embassy in Snezhnaya gleamed with golden chandeliers and polished marble floors. Diplomats and high-ranking officials mingled, their laughter and chatter blending with the soft notes of a string quartet. You should have been enjoying the evening, basking in the rare opportunity to see Arlecchino in something other than her usual Harbinger attire—dressed in tailored silver with red accents, looking like she belonged on a throne rather than among these scheming aristocrats.
But you weren’t enjoying yourself.
Not when a noblewoman, a high-ranking official’s daughter, had draped herself far too close to Arlecchino, her painted lips curled in amusement as she toyed with the rim of her wine glass.
“You must be the infamous Knave,” the woman purred, her fingers lightly tracing the intricate embroidery of Arlecchino’s sleeve. “I’ve heard so many… fascinating things about you.”
Arlecchino merely smirked, sipping her wine. “Have you now?”
Your jaw tightened. You were across the room, nursing your own drink, but you could see everything—how the woman tilted her head, how she leaned in as though Arlecchino was hers to claim. And worst of all? Arlecchino didn’t pull away.
You’d never considered yourself the jealous type. You trusted Arlecchino with your life, and you knew she was devoted to you in a way that words couldn’t fully capture. But something about the way that woman looked at her, as if she had a chance—
You downed the rest of your drink, your fingers clenching around the delicate glass.
Fine. If Arlecchino was going to let someone flirt with her, then maybe you’d return the favor.
Your eyes swept the room before landing on someone—a young noble, charming enough, standing not too far from you. They had been eyeing you throughout the night, clearly intrigued, and right now, you were more than willing to use that to your advantage.
You made your way toward them, adopting an effortless smile. “This party is dreadfully dull, don’t you think?”
They blinked before smiling back. “It certainly lacks excitement.”
“I suppose we’ll have to create our own, then.” Your voice was playful, your fingers ghosting over the rim of your glass the way the noblewoman had done to Arlecchino’s. If she wanted to play games, you could play them better.
For a moment, it worked. The noble laughed, engaging in easy conversation, even going so far as to place a hand on your arm. And just as you began to feel some semblance of triumph—
The air shifted.
A dark presence loomed behind you, and before you could turn, a gloved hand slipped around your waist, pulling you back against a firm body. A familiar body.
Arlecchino.
The noble in front of you stiffened immediately, their eyes darting between you and the Harbinger at your back. You could almost hear the way their breath caught, the way their thoughts screamed at them to leave before they became collateral damage.
“Apologies,” Arlecchino murmured, her voice deceptively soft, yet laced with something far more dangerous. “I must steal them away.”
The noble didn’t argue. They practically bowed before scurrying off, leaving you alone in Arlecchino’s grasp.
She didn’t let go.
You swallowed, the heat of her body pressed against yours sending conflicting shivers down your spine. “Enjoying yourself?” she asked, lips brushing against the shell of your ear.
Your heart pounded. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Arlecchino hummed, and suddenly, you were being led away—not onto the dance floor, but out of the ballroom entirely. Down a dimly lit corridor, away from prying eyes.
You barely had time to question it before she turned you to face her, crimson eyes gleaming. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
Your breath hitched. “You didn’t seem to mind when she was all over you.”
A smirk ghosted over her lips. “You were jealous.”
“You enjoyed it.”
Arlecchino exhaled a quiet laugh before leaning in, her hands caging you against the wall behind you. “If I enjoyed anything,” she murmured, voice slow and deliberate, “it was seeing you try to get back at me.”
Your pulse jumped as her fingers traced along your wrist, up to your shoulder, slow and teasing. “Did you really think I’d let you flirt with someone else?”
“I—”
She cut you off with a kiss—not soft, not gentle, but claiming. Possessive. It left you breathless, dizzy, your earlier frustration melting into something far more intoxicating. When she pulled away, her forehead pressed against yours, her smirk was still there, but softer now.
“Mine,” she murmured. “Only mine.”
You exhaled, dazed. “Yours.”
And just like that, the fire in your chest shifted—no longer jealousy, but something much sweeter. Something undeniably, irrevocably hers.
a/n: hello friends! so i am starting this series called 'potchi's 'what if' series'. this is just an excuse for me to upload headcanons & short fics of 'what ifs' or how i imagine a character would behave if they were if such situation. so im kinda testing my first one with Yandere! Arle hehe; also short fic about love wins all by iu is now in the making and will be posted today yipee!
Arlecchino is fiercely protective and obsessively possessive. As the Knave of the Fatui, she already commands respect and fear, but when it comes to you, her fixation becomes something primal.
No one is allowed near you without her approval. Friends, coworkers, even strangers on the street are evaluated with icy precision.
If she deems someone a threat, they mysteriously disappear. (i wonder why)
She is methodical, knowing everything about your daily routine and mannerisms—down to your favorite tea and the way you furrow your brows when thinking deeply.
Emotional vulnerability is rare for her, but in private moments with you, Arlecchino lets a sliver of tenderness show. However, this "softness" is wrapped in an unsettling edge of possessiveness.
She has no qualms about manipulating you emotionally if she thinks it will keep you close to her.
Guilt-tripping and subtle threats are tools in her arsenal.
Despite her chilling demeanor, Arlecchino would never physically harm you. Instead, she thrives on psychological control, ensuring you depend on her for protection and love.
(short fic incoming)
The bitter chill of Snezhnaya clung to your skin as you hurried down the cobblestone street, your breath visible in the frigid air. The towering spires of the Fatui stronghold loomed in the distance, their icy grandeur a constant reminder of your entanglement with a certain danger. You didn’t notice her until you rounded the corner, nearly colliding with her dark, imposing figure. She stood as if she had been waiting for you, her red eyes glinting like embers beneath the hood of her cloak.
"You're late," she murmured, voice soft but laced with unmistakable menace.
"I didn’t know I had a schedule," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.
Her gloved hand brushed your cheek, deceptively gentle. "I always know where you are. Tonight, you walked through the market district." Her lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "There were… unsavory types watching you." Your heart raced. "I can take care of myself."
Arlecchino's smile vanished, replaced by a chilling intensity. "No. That's my job." Her fingers tightened slightly against your jaw, not enough to hurt but enough to remind you of her strength. "I won't let anything happen to you. Ever."
"You can't control my every move," you argued, though the weight of her gaze made your defiance falter.
Her hand dropped, but the tension lingered. "You say that now," she whispered, "but you'll see that my way is best." Before you could respond, Arlecchino stepped closer, her breath warm against your ear despite the cold.
"Remember, no one loves you as much as I do. No one ever will. And I'll make sure it stays that way."
As she walked away, her Fatui cloak billowing behind her, you shivered—not from the cold, but from the realization that Arlecchino’s love was a cage, and the bars were closing in.
Arlecchino Vs. Brainrot (featuring the Fontaine Trio)
potchi's 'what if' series #2: Arlecchino’s old ahh & her inability to understand popular memes/brainrot (ft. our fave Fontainian trio)
cw: none! just enjoy this fleeting moment of happiness hehe
word count: 992
a/n: hello my friends! so a while ago, my friends and i had a discussion abt arlecchino's old ass since she canonically cannot make out any of the popular vernaculars that the children at the house of the hearth speaks. so i decided to touch on that specific trouble thats been gnawing father haha. this was such a fun headcanon/fic to create since the trio are here, so pls do enjoy!
She tries to keep up for your sake but ends up taking things way too literally. If you call something "mid," she assumes it means "middle-tier" in a serious analytical sense rather than an insult.
She mistakes "brainrot" for a legitimate medical condition. When you said, "My brainrot is so bad for you," she started making arrangements for the House of the Hearth’s best doctors to examine you.
Lyney is the biggest menace, deliberately feeding Arlecchino incorrect definitions just to see how long she’ll believe them. He once convinced her that "no cap" meant someone had lost their hat, and she started carrying an extra one for you "in case of emergencies."
Lynette is more passive in the chaos but definitely enables it. She'll throw in a completely deadpan "she's so valid for that" while sipping her tea, and Arlecchino knows she’s being mocked but can’t prove it.
Freminet doesn’t participate as much, but even he gets caught up in the nonsense. Once, he accidentally told Arlecchino that her battle tactics were "based" (thanks to Lyney tricking him). She responded with a five-minute lecture about the dangers of radical thinking before he awkwardly admitted he had no idea what he just said.
The moment Arlecchino found out what "babygirl" really meant, she banned the word in the household. You, Lyney, and Lynette started calling her "bbygorl" instead. She hates it.
One time, you told her "you ate" after she flawlessly handled a business deal. She stared at you before flatly replying, "No, I did not. I had breakfast six hours ago."
(short fic incoming)
The Knave prided herself on her discipline, efficiency, and ability to command respect. She could handle high-stakes negotiations, dismantle underground crime rings, and strike fear into even the most hardened criminals with just a glance.
Yet, for all her power, she could not—could not—for the life of her, understand what the hell was wrong with the four chaotic gremlins she had taken into her home.
It started out as an ordinary evening. Arlecchino had just finished reviewing some reports at her desk when she heard it. A hushed chorus of giggles from the living room, punctuated by Freminet’s hesitant voice:
"Are we… sure she won’t kill us for this?"
"Oh, absolutely," Lyney replied, far too confidently. "Most likely," Lynette added in her usual monotone.
Arlecchino sighed. She didn’t want to investigate—whatever nonsense they were concocting was surely beneath her attention—but experience had taught her that the longer she ignored them, the worse it got. With quiet, purposeful strides, she stepped into the living room, where you, Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet were all huddled around a phone. The moment you spotted her, your face lit up with mischief.
"Hey, Perrie," you called, standing up.
She already didn’t like where this was going. "What."
"Be honest—do you think you have rizz?"
Silence.
Her scarlet X's slowly scanned the room. Lyney and you were barely holding in laughter, Lynette looked as unbothered as ever, and Freminet, poor thing, was clearly only here out of obligation. "I am not playing whatever ridiculous game this is," Arlecchino said flatly.
"Oh, come on," Lyney wheedled. "Father, you must have rizz. You’ve got that whole mysterious, intimidating, slightly terrifying allure going on."
"Slightly?" she echoed, unimpressed. "Exactly!" You clapped your hands together. "You’re basically a sigma female." Freminet, ever the reluctant participant, shifted awkwardly. "Um… yeah. V-very, uh… a-alpha energy." Arlecchino pinched the bridge of her nose. "Enough. You will explain these terms properly, or—"
"Oh, don’t worry," Lynette interjected smoothly, taking a casual sip of her tea. "You’re a real skibidi toilet gyatt master of the grimace shakes, Father."
Silence.
The air shifted.
Arlecchino’s expression remained unreadable, but there was a dangerous glint in her eye. "A what?" Lyney wheezed. You doubled over laughing. Even Freminet, usually so quiet, let out a small, horrified snort before immediately regretting it. Lynette, of course, remained impassive. "Explain." Arlecchino’s voice was eerily calm, which only made you laugh harder.
You waved a hand. "No, no, it’s fine, bbygorl, don’t stress—"
Her eye twitched; oh that was it.
"Phones." Her tone left no room for argument. "Now."
That was when the survival instincts kicked in.
Lyney was the first to react, leaping over the back of the couch like a trained escape artist. "Everyone scatter!" he shouted dramatically. Freminet, panicked, tried to follow but tripped over his own feet, sending his phone skidding across the floor. You dove for it, Arlecchino right on your heels. Lynette, ever composed, simply placed her phone in her pocket and walked away at a brisk but unbothered pace.
"Get back here!" Arlecchino snapped.
"Skill issue!" you yelled over your shoulder, cackling as you narrowly avoided her grasp.
"DO NOT USE THAT TERM AGAIN."
Lyney managed to vault over the kitchen counter, laughing like a madman. "Father, you just don’t have enough rizz to catch us!" Arlecchino lunged for him, but he dodged, sliding across the tile floor. Freminet, meanwhile, had surrendered entirely and was currently sitting on the couch, staring blankly ahead, contemplating his life choices. She almost caught you next, but you threw her off by dramatically flopping onto the floor and declaring, "You were supposed to be my babygirl!" in the most tragic, theatrical voice possible.
That… stunned her for a fraction of a second. A fatal mistake.
Lyney seized the opportunity. "Father is distracted—this is our chance!" He grabbed Freminet by the collar and dragged him away, Lynette already long gone like a ghost into the night. You, still grinning, scrambled to your feet and sprinted after them.
Arlecchino exhaled slowly, straightening her coat. "You have ten seconds," she called out, voice full of menace. "Run while you can."
potchi's 'what if' series #4: Arlecchino being an absolute fangirl for her Sabrina Carpenter-like popstar lover
cw: mild language, suggestive themes, arlecchino being a lovesick but emotionally constipated menace
word count: 1293
a/n: I LOVE THIS HEADCANON!! ive always tried to envision our peruere as a fangirl and what fueled me more is that ive been seeing that one meme with the singer sitting on stage and then the fan is screaming dramatically (i hope u can imagine the meme). PLS ENJOY READING THIS FIC, i had lots lots of fun writing this specific what if <3
Arlecchino pretends to be indifferent about your music career, but she’s secretly the biggest fangirl.
Owns every album you’ve ever released, and though she’d die before admitting it, she has specific playlists of your songs for training, relaxing, and even missing you.
If anyone talks shit about your music, they suddenly find themselves facing an icy stare that could send even the boldest Harbinger running.
When you show her choreography for the first time, she’s outwardly composed but internally malfunctioning—especially when you do that move.
Always acts like your tour schedule is just "information she needs to know," but you catch her subtly adjusting her work around your concert dates.
During the tour
Somehow always secures VIP or backstage passes, despite claiming she’s too busy to attend.
Stands in the VIP section, arms crossed, pretending to be unimpressed while internally losing her mind.
Keeps a low profile to avoid drawing attention, but there’s always footage of a tall, imposing figure in the crowd who isn’t cheering—just staring at you like she wants to devour you whole.
The moment you do the Juno pose, she glitches. Her mask cracks for a second—sharpened gaze, slow inhale, slight shift in posture. If you look close enough, you might even see her lips part slightly.
After the concert, she waits for you backstage like it’s your job to find her, leaning against a wall, looking devastatingly cool—despite being the same person who nearly died watching you moments ago.
Post-concert
She insists you get proper rest, subtly pushing water bottles into your hands and making sure you don’t overwork yourself.
Acts like she doesn’t care about your stage outfits but will 100% eye them possessively. The ones that show just enough skin? Yeah. She remembers those.
"Why was your outfit so short?"
"Why do you care?"
"I don’t. Just an observation."
If you’re too tired, she’ll carry you back to the hotel without breaking a sweat.
Hates sharing you with fans but respects your love for them—though if any fan gets too bold, they suddenly find themselves hesitating under her sharp glare.
(short fic incoming)
a/n 2: BTW U GUYS IF U DONT KNOW THE JUNO POSITIONS PLS WATCH SOME VIDEOS OF WHEN SABRINA CARPENTER DOES IT IN HER TOURS BEFORE READING THIS FIC SO THAT U GUYS MIGHT HAVE AN IDEA WHAT THE HELL IM TALKING ABT (i love u sabrina)
The crowd roars as the opening chords of your final song echo through the stadium. You can feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins as you strut across the stage, the microphone cool against your fingertips. The lights flash in perfect sync with the beat, illuminating the thousands of fans screaming your name.
And in the VIP section, one particular fan is watching with rapt attention.
Arlecchino stands there, arms crossed, expression neutral—outwardly. But anyone who knows her well would notice the telltale signs: the slightly clenched fists, the way her eyes track your every movement with laser focus, the almost imperceptible twitch of her lips when you hit a falsetto.
"Wanna try out some freaky positions?"
You sing; then, you do it.
Before the chorus kicks in, you drop into a Juno pose—you kneeled in front of the audience, slightly arching your back, and grind your hips.
"Have you ever tried this one?", you winked at the camera.
The crowd erupts. And in the VIP section, Arlecchino... stops breathing. A flicker of something uncontrollable crosses her face, something dangerously close to awe. She swallows, hard, and exhales slowly, forcing herself to stay composed. But inside? She’s screaming.
The stadium is buzzing with the aftershocks of your final song. Thousands of voices still chant your name, their cheers echoing through the massive arena. Your pulse is racing, adrenaline still surging through your veins as you step off stage, breathless and sweating, but exhilarated.
And you know she’s here.
Even before you see her, you can feel her presence—sharp, controlled, intense. It’s a different kind of tension from the energy on stage, but no less electrifying.
Then, there she is.
Arlecchino stands near the dressing rooms, arms crossed, leaning against the wall with her usual air of nonchalance. Her coat is draped over her shoulders, the dim backstage lighting casting dramatic shadows across her sharp features. She looks calm, unreadable—but her eyes tell another story.
"You’re staring," you tease, pulling a water bottle from the nearby table.
She doesn’t deny it. Instead, her gaze flickers downward, scanning you. The sweat on your collarbone, the rise and fall of your chest, the lingering remnants of stage makeup highlighting your features.
"You pushed too hard," she says, nodding at your trembling hands.
"I was putting on a show," you counter, taking a long sip. "And from the way the crowd reacted? I killed it out there."
Her lips twitch slightly—almost a smirk, but she reels it in before it fully forms. "Hmph."
You step closer, tilting your head. "So? Did you like it?"
She exhales slowly, like she’s debating how much to give away. "You were… impressive."
"Just impressive?" You narrow your eyes, searching her face for any cracks in her stoic mask.
And then, with a smirk, you push it further.
"The Juno pose got you, didn’t it?"
For the first time since you stepped backstage, Arlecchino’s expression shifts just enough to betray her. It’s slight—a tension in her jaw, the way her fingers curl subtly against her sleeve, as if recalling the exact moment you dropped into that pose on stage.
You grin. "Oh my god. It did get you."
She clicks her tongue, rolling her shoulders. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"Liar." You step closer, enough that you can feel the residual heat from her body. "You stopped breathing when I did it, didn’t you?"
Arlecchino’s gaze darkens slightly, her composure slipping. "You think too highly of yourself."
"Oh, I know I do. And I also know you love when I perform like that." You trail a teasing finger along the lapel of her coat. "You gonna tell me I’m wrong?"
For a beat, she says nothing. Just stares. Hard. Like she’s trying to keep herself in check. Like she wants to do something but knows it’ll be dangerous if she does.
Then—
A sharp tug.
Before you can react, she’s grabbed your wrist, pulling you flush against her. Your breath hitches as her lips hover just above your ear, her voice dropping to a low, velvety murmur.
"You’re playing a dangerous game, mon cœur."
Your heart pounds against your ribs, but you don’t back down. You meet her gaze, a challenge glinting in your eyes. Another pause. Another moment of tension so thick it’s almost suffocating.
Then, to your surprise—Arlecchino smirks. Fully, this time.
"You should change before you catch a cold," she murmurs, releasing you just as easily as she caught you. She steps back, hands sliding into her pockets like nothing happened. "And drink more water."
You blink, still processing what just transpired. "That’s all you have to say?"
She tilts her head, eyes glinting. "Would you prefer another response?"
You huff, knowing she wants you to ask for it. "Ugh, you’re impossible."
"And yet, you can’t stay away."
She turns on her heel, heading toward the exit. But just before disappearing down the hall, she pauses—just for a second.
"You looked stunning up there," she says, voice softer this time. More real. "Like you were born for it."
And with that, she’s gone.
You exhale, gripping the water bottle a little tighter, trying to calm your racing heart. Damn her. Damn her and her ability to make you feel like you’re still standing under the stage lights, even when the concert is long over.
rather be swimming with you than drowning in a crowded room
Summary: You were Fontaine’s golden star, adored by millions and dressed in diamonds. She was the woman in the corner of the room, retired and ruined by rumor, yet more grounded than anyone you’d ever met. When she offered you her hand, she didn’t promise to save you; only to stay. And sometimes, peace isn’t a quiet place. It’s a person who holds you when the lights go out.
cw: emotional exhaustion, burnout, themes of isolation and loneliness, past trauma implied, tender intimacy and vulnerability
word count: 720
a/n: holy shit u guys, ive been gone for 2 months STRAIGHT pushing 3 and i am so SO sorry. i had to prioritize my studies and clinical rotations first PLUS we had research on top of that; i DIED goodness gracious. luckily its my summer vacation and i can now publish this one arle fanfic thats been gathering dust and cobwebs. anyways i have a very short announcement later so pls stay tuned!!
It always started the same way.
A dress tailored to perfection. Makeup flawless. Your name echoing off the walls as a crowd swarmed like waves, surging, hungry.
Flash. Flash. Smile.
You smiled until your cheeks ached. Laughed until your voice rang hollow. Danced until your feet bled in your heels. And still, you felt alone. Even as they screamed your name. The room was suffocating. Perfume and ego thickened the air until it clung to your skin like heat.
You laughed at another sponsor’s joke. Tilted your head just enough for the cameras. Your lips held the smile; your eyes, the exhaustion.
You were Fontaine’s darling. The star of six critically acclaimed operas. The muse of three couture houses. The heartbreak of a thousand rumors.
And none of them knew you.
You raised a glass of sparkling wine to your lips, but didn’t drink. Your gaze drifted. That’s when you saw her.
Alone. Still. Cutting through the glitter like a blade.
You first saw her at the charity gala — the one where the drinks were too expensive and the air too thick with perfume and lies. You knew who she was, of course. Everyone did. Not by formal introduction, but by whisper and myth.
And yet, here she was, arms folded, eyes cold but not cruel. You couldn’t explain why, but your feet moved before you could stop them.
You approached her like a ripple across still water.
She leaned against a pillar in white and red, no drink, no interest in flattery. While everyone else leaned in, she watched. "You’re not like the others," you said. "And you're not as happy as you pretend to be," she replied. That was the beginning.
“Not enjoying the festivities?” you asked. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t smile. “Are you?”
You blinked. “Excuse me?” She turned her gaze back to the crowd. “You're trying so hard to be loved in a room that doesn’t even like you.”
You should’ve been offended. Should’ve walked away. But you’d never felt more seen. “You know who I am?” you asked. “I know who you pretend to be,” she replied.
There was no malice in it. No threat. Only honesty.
You exhaled like it was the first time all night.
-
You sat beside her in the back of the hired car. Neither of you spoke for the first five minutes. Then, she asked, “Where do you want to go?”
Anywhere but here.
You said the words aloud without thinking. She nodded.
The road curled away from the city, into silence. Into stars. You watched her from the corner of your eye as she drove, one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting near her knee, fingers loose.
She didn’t speak unless you did. You realized: she wasn’t trying to impress you. She wasn’t trying to do anything except keep you safe.
When she pulled up to her lakehouse, you didn’t question it.
The region of Liffey was a myth in Fontaine. A region so far north that no one bothered with it. Abandoned as it was, it is home to a lake that shimmered like a mirror when the fog rolled in.
She brought you there with nothing but a coat over your dress, makeup still clinging to your eyes from the afterparty you'd abandoned halfway through.
The house was small. Wooden. Wrapped in trees. Moonlight touched the lake behind it like a soft breath.
Inside, it smelled like cedar and faint smoke. She lit a fire while you stood in the middle of the room, shoes in your hand, dress trailing behind you like a memory you were ready to shed.
“I don’t know why I came with you,” you whispered. She looked up. “You were already drowning.”
“And you?” She tilted her head. “I never learned how to swim. But I know how to pull people out.”
Something inside you cracked. Not broken. Just… opened.
She handed you tea. Took off your heels for you. Lit a fire. Sat beside you and said, “You don’t have to explain.” And so, for once, you didn’t.
You slept on the couch that night. She gave you her blanket. Tucked it around you without a word.
You closed your eyes and dreamt of silence. For the first time in years, it didn’t feel like a threat.
