Can I ask for Tarnished x reader please? I'm obsessed with my Tarnished and can't stop thinking about what if they know about us - the player that sitting behind the screen and see us as their god, the person who guide them. And then one day, we wake up and boom! We isekai into Elden Ring, next to us is Tarnished who is clearly worry but also super excited because their god finally here! And they won't let us go anywhere too far anytime soon.
Yandere! Tarnished and maybe some smut? 👉👈 Thank you!!
“Oh boy do I also love this au. I think it referred as Self-Aware au or Reverse Isekai. I couldn't find a way to put smut in here, but I can do another when the Requests are up.” - Ichor
Summary - “You have been playing Elden Ring for a while now, but you have never expected to be waking up in that horror of a world. At least you had your... character: the Tarnished by your side, right?”
TW // Yandere, Flash Fiction.
|°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°|
You have never expected to see your character- er Tarnished in real life. To see their armor glinting above you as they seem quite wary of you first, and you couldn't decide if you wanted to scream and run. I mean, you are in a world full of horrors. You know you are; you had pinched yourself to make sure that everything around you was real, and that you control yourself.
"T-Tarnished?" You hesitantly call out to the being that looks down at you: quiet, stoic. Something you has expected of the Tarnished, but not overly so. This being was sending shiverers through your body, your own creation was freaking you out. You take a guess this is how realistically it would be going against you- er the Tarnished. All cold, merciless, menacing, silent.
They move forward, crouching a bit with their hands extended. It made you flinch slightly at the swiftness of their movements, but their gentleness on grasping at you and pulling you against them was a surprise to you. Their body warm despite the armor that protects them, and you would think they would be cold because they die only to reborn again like an undead.
"Oh, uh... thank you?" You breathe, unsure if they even understand you. Your hands on their chest as you look up to them. Trying to get a read on them. Would they be killing you? Letting you live? Only to let you suffer like this world has?
That is if you couldn't die like the Tarnished, and that's not a thought you were too keen on fingering out. At all.
The Tarnsihed simply nods at you, acknowledging your words. Their gauntlets sliding down to your wrists and hold you close. To feel your warmth. To feel the divinity they believe that is within you. That’s why you were watching them, right? You’re their divine being.
You on the other hand are more… confused; out of your place with being in the Tarnished hold. You do not really know your- the Tarnsined, but it seems the Tarnsined knows you, and it’s a bit weird. It feels like- or something close to stalking that you don’t even know of, but perhaps the universe was kind enough to put some sort of memory into the Tarnished. So that you wouldn’t be… useless in this world. That you’re protected.
That’s what you think away ways. What you want to think to save yourself an headache of this possibility of being in a game that you play with a Tarnished character you have created.
The Tarnished carefully holds you, their chin on your head, and you feel… coddled in a weird way too. Nothing good, but nothing bad at the same time. Though, you’re not one to complain if this being seems touch starved. They were at least keeping you close and not killing you off as they were a killer of gods and demi-gods in the game…
“T-Tarnished?” You dare to speak up again, quietly; softly. You head moving to look up at them. Unintentionally brushing up against their neck to do so. Your hands moving to lightly press up against their armor as if they were a fragile being that hasn’t been through horrors, and they like that. That you seem to care. They like that you “nuzzled” them.
Their gauntlets on your wrist move when you move. Staying on your wrist lightly, never wanting to let you go. If you were to pull away? They were sure they would just pull you right back into them. Yet, you are a divine, right? They should be more careful of how they should treat you, nothing like an object to finally have and play with. They should listen to your orders if they want to be next to you, forever.
“Can you um-“ You pause, trying to gather your thoughts on the best course of action because obviously. No one gets realistically Isekai’ed into their own damn game. It was just something to read, not… act upon! “Can we… not be put in the open, Tarnished?”
They give you a simple nod, the metal of their armor clinking together before they move quickly. Wrapping their arms around you before hauling you up into their arms bridal style. A little, surprised yelp leaving you as your hands grasp at them quickly for stability, and you swear you can feel the silent amusement coming from the being as they walk through… West Limgrave you recognize.
You sigh to yourself, simply watching and smelling how real this world was to you. Wondering if they would put you at a Grace Site, and if you were able to see it. Besides that, were you able to get to your world? Would the Tarnished help you? Or even let you?
Well, even if they wouldn’t. You’re still glad they haven’t killed you… yet.
a/n - some more yan! wrio because i love him sm <3 also, imbibitor lunae prompt coming soon!
self-aware! wriothesley, who doesn't let you know initially that he's aware of the fact he's in a game, taking the pleasure of observing you through the screen and occasionally making direct eye contact.
self-aware! wriothesley, who comes home willingly and quickly the moment you pull for him on his banner, regardless if you wanted him to come home or not.
self-aware! wriothesley, whose facial expressions just seem a tad bit more livelier than you'd expect when you return to chat with him for a quest. almost as if he's happy to see you.
self-aware! wriothesley, who absolutely adores it when you talk to yourself as you view him through the screen, giving commentary on his character, hearing how you praise and love his design.
self-aware! wriothesley, who begins to think of ways to directly communicate with you because he wants your sole attention.
self-aware! wriothesley, who begins to crave your attention more than anything and looks forward to every time you have to come meet him in his office in-game.
self-aware! wriothesley, who doesn't allow you to leave the fortress of meropide just so you can stay by his side for a few more moments, even going as far as to make additional dialogue options to make you stay put.
self-aware! wriothesley, who bugs the code of the game to make it impossible for you to remove him from the party just so he gets to stay with you.
self-aware! wriothesley, who decides to break free from the game the moment you think of trying to report the issue.
self-aware! wriothesley, who manages to escape from the confines of the game and begins to hunt you down, successfully finding you.
self-aware! wriothesley, who thinks about taking you for himself, ultimately deciding against his better judgment and trapping you inside your own apartment.
self-aware! wriothesley, who embraces you like you are his very own, holding you like you might just break and disappear if he lets go, not caring how you're utterly terrified in his hold.
self-aware! wriothesley, who'll whisper to you how much he craved you, enthralled and overjoyed now that he finally can call you his and only his.
A Journey of a Thousand Miles Begins with a Single Step
Summary: Their arrival was not heralded by golden meteors or a memory inserted to the great people they knew. They appeared one day, and that was all there is to it.
Tags: SAGAU (literally), Female OC uses they/them pronouns, Female OC as the Manekin, not Creator/Impostor AU
Warning/s: I am a newbie player of Genshin. I have some idea on what happens from Mondstadt to Fontaine Archon Quest, but I don't know anything. I do not know the lore. Also, grammatical mistakes ahead. Also, it's been a while since I wrote anything that remotely resembles a prose. This is a VERY short prologue. I posted this after writing. MDNI.
Read the content under...
PROLOGUE I: Neither a descender nor a god.
As cliché as it sounds, they woke up to sun rays glaring at their face.
They expected to wake up in the dark, alarm clock blaring near their bed. Their curtains—a set of purple dark enough but not borderline black to cover their windows—should have prevented any light from gracing any parts of their window.
Grass tickled their face and there's a continuous hum in the air. With a groan, they slowly sat up, back creaking, and stared at the sight that greeted them.
They stared, and stared some more.
Just what was in their dinner last night?
It wasn't the large tree that caught their eye. Yes, it was bigger than most trees they'd seen, but it wasn't the largest piece of wood they saw in their lifetime.
No, the thing that caught their attention was the statue.
They stood up and looked around. To their dismay, they were at the center of a very familiar lake. A lake that they have seen at least a hundred times.
They turned their gaze back to the statue.
"What in the world..." they whispered, eyes wide in disbelief. The statue resembled that of a strange chess piece with a winged being at the top.
They looked at the fingers in each of their hand. Each had five.
They slapped themselves. Hard. The scenery did not change.
They closed their eyes. Shut them in a way that they started seeing blobs of red and green float in the darkness. They opened their eyes just to see the same place.
Was that even the way to describe how he was feeling? Like a black hole, drifting in space? Like how Chase said it— no, no. He didn't suck anyone in... Or off, for that matter. He just...
Existed.
Like a star in space, slowly dying out.
Slowly losing his spark, or something more precious.
He was losing... Himself, it felt like.
Robert's eyes drifted by on the crack in his ceiling, examining the deeper parts and giving himself something to do, other than pet Beef. The chunky Chiahuha was laying on his chest, softly panthing as he slept on him— getting rest, unlike him. Probably also peace-minded, unlike him.
A groan of frustration left his lips, his other hand messaging the bridge of his nose. The groan evolved into an tired sigh as he dragged his hand down his face, a miserable expression crossing his face as he continued staring up at the crack in his ceiling with furrowed brows. What the hell has he done? No—that's... Not quite how he would say it.
What the fuck happened to him?
He just couldn't decipher it. He can be Mecha-man again— 𝘞𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘢 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, as Royd said. And hell, he did. He did a good ass job at it. Robert couldn't remember the last time the suit operated so well, and for so long— it looked so shiny, radiant even. He was eternally grateful for the miracle Royd had managed to give him, despite everything.
The smile on his face didn't last long, however, overtaken by the coldness in his chest. Sure, Beef was quite heavy and gave good warmth, but.... This cold was more, metaphorical. More like his heart was heavy with... Sorrow, missing something.
God, that sounded corny just in his head.
Robert grimaced at his inner thoughts, shaking his head to remember back why he was awake right now— his dreams. Right. The dreams that have been haunting him, controlling him like a puppet. Like a child, needing assistance. The dreams that have gone against every thing he has done, or hasn't.
Attacking thugs on a cold night, starting a fight in a bar, murdering someone in cold blood—
He just shuddered at the violence his head conjured up, which was weird. He didn't do bad with violence— he's been on both parts of it, the perpetrator and both the person who suffered from it.... Mostly the person who suffered from it, but... Y'know. That's just a question of perspective. But still, it felt.... Weird. Unlike him. Like he wasn't quite there in the head, a sweet, urgent whisper echoing in his head everytime he did what he did in his dreams.
'Not so fast, assholes.' He'd shout, his voice not his own.
—Glass him. C'mon, no one gets to talk about Blonde Blazer like that. Especially not when she's talking about Chase.
—Drop him. He's one of Shroud's goons, should be no problem.
He could almost distinguish the voice apart from his, but... It was deep in his head. Like an instinct he could barely resist, or an itch he couldn't quite scratch, or a wound he couldn't quite disinfect. It was... Weird, all things considered. And he needed a moment. Well, no— he needed multiple moments, to discuss whether he has gone insane or is currently going insane.
Slowly, reluctantly, Robert raised Beef from his chest— Jesus, was this dog always this heavy? Maybe he really should stop over feeding him. Sitting up, Robert put his sweet dog back on his couch, watching as he quietly whined and went back to sleep, nuzzling against a pillow. It was adorable, honestly. Robert gave a small pat to his head before pushing himself up, sauntering over to the bathroom with the grace of a zombie. Which, if you asked anyone? Wasn't far off, honestly. He felt like a zombie. Like an undead, missing something vital— his life.
Disregarding the creek from his bathroom door, Robert simply stood in the mirror and... Stared at himself, eyes drifting across his body. All the scars, bruises, stitches, memories he had made.
No, he didn't make them. That's... Not quite it.
He just... Remembered them.
A hand went up to his injured ear, fingers slowly holding the make-shift bullet hole he had gotten from the mech, once his father had it. He grimaced at the sight, no better than any of the scars he had gotten himself. Maybe it was the first hint he got he wouldn't work out as mecha-man— until he did.
"Have I always looked so shitty?" He echoed quietly, leaning with both hands against the sink, leaning closer to the glass. No one answered him, but that was to be granted.
His eyes took in his appearance— his disheveled brown hair, his tired and baggy eyes, his faint freckles, the scowl on his face and his pathetic excuse of a beard. He looked... Miserable.
Maybe because he felt miserable, let's start there.
Ever since the whole thing with Shroud, he felt... Empty. Lonely— which was weird, considering all the friends he has now.
SDN, altogether. The Z-team, Mandy, Chase was still kicking, Royd, Gallen. They were all there, and he felt... Happy with them. Laughed with them, joked with them, comforted them, basked in their presence. He had everyone and everything he could ask for— family, friends, his suit, Beef. Peace, finally and mostly.
So what was missing?
That question made his brows furrow in frustration and helplessness. Something had to be missing, right? It was like he was a shell of his former self. Like the astral pulse wasn't the only thing that he lost once upon a time. He looked deep into his eyes, examining the swirl of browns.
There's no light in his eyes, that's what. But— then again, when did he ever have them? Life was throwing him around like a fucking ragdoll, it would be hard to have a light in his eyes when he was almost always in a coma or something. But there was something missing in his droopy eyes. Something he couldn't decipher. Something he couldn't quite grasp.
A sad whine knocked him out of his head, his head snapping to his door and eyes down to the ground— a crack separating the door from being closed, and also Beef. A small smile crossed his face at the sight of his doggy, immediately leaning down to pick him up— with the slightest stumble, because he was still heavy as hell.
"Aww, did I wake you up, buddy? Couldn't sleep without me?" Robert babied, a hand scratching behind Beef's ear, his tail wagging in appriciation.
"...Yeah, I also couldn't sleep without you." He replied to himself, cold feet sticking against the floorboards of his apartment as he went back to his couch. He hesitated for a moment before laying down, putting Beef back down on his chest.
"Let's hope this passes..." He'd mumble to himself, an actual pillow againts his head. The silent static of his many lamps, the one he had gottem from the Z-team, buzzed on with the night. His eyes drifted over the same crack in the wall, examining it once more. Was it him, or was it getting bigger?
His inner thoughts lingered in the air like stiffled tension, fading into the night as sleep slowly, gently took over his form— bringing the sweet, restful relief of life to him and giving him a break of his thoughts.
wait a minute...self aware norton sounds like good angst material
Hmm, I think he'd more just be resentful... (At first).
"So my suffering is just a game for you, huh? Figures, of course I would be created specifically for the universe to torture me." He'd say, all while scowling and refusing to look at the screen even when you try to turn the camera to look at his face.
Norton doesn't blame you, as you didn't create him or his backstory, but he doesn't like not being in control of himself, and the fact that you're this great being from beyond the fourth wall who can basically watch him whenever you want... It unnerves him, but you're also probably the only person who can literally understand what he's been through, unlike anyone else ever can.
In a way, he's grateful for your company, even though you can only talk to him through Alice (or whatever you named her in the AOM storyline), he still treats you as your own person.
Maybe he's rude and dismissive and standoffish, but he warms up to you quickly when you give him things. "The hell is an 'affection system'? You're speaking nonsense again..." All while the little heart next to him fills up more and more because you gave him bread and coin. Eventually, he'll even seek you out on his own, without you approaching...
Norton just wishes he could meet you in person, no middleman avatar, but he knows that's impossible so he'll grin and bear it. Keeps his distance too, to make sure he doesn't get attached to you, or that you get attached to him. Anything so you won't have to suffer like he does.
