Wealth, Fame And Power? Perfection.

Play House - Scaramouche

Summary: Scaramouche can’t believe someone of his stature is playing house with you, a mere human. When you insist on him joining you in your pillow fort, he wonders if this game is really worth it. 

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Characters: Scaramouche x gn!Reader

Genre: Fully written, hurt/comfort(?), fluff

Word count: 1188 words

Warnings: Swearing, violent urges from Scaramouche, he practically has to resist from killing you lol

A/N: For @xiaosmoon’s holiday writing collab! thank you for letting me participate~

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otherworldly ~ coraline!au (pt.2)

PAIRING ~ jimin x reader

GENRE ~ horror/thriller, smut (not in this chapter)

WORD COUNT ~ 11k

SUMMARY ~ when you discover a tiny door in your home that leads to a much better version of your own life, it seems too good to be true. little do you know, the man posing as your boyfriend may be a lot more dangerous than you care to admit. and he is NOT intent on letting you leave.

WARNINGS ~ profanity, supernatural themes, mentions of sex, depiction of an unhealthy relationship, obsessive behaviors, imprisonment, disturbing images, needles, spiders/insects, slight bodily mutilation

A/N ~ part 2 of 3. the ending is really rushed i’m sorry 😂 thank you all for being so patient and for all the love and support! make sure to leave a comment or review!

copyright © 2019-2020 under sinning-on-a-sunday. do not repost or translate my works without my explicit permission. this includes stealing my ideas/plot.

READ PART 1 HERE

It wasn’t a dream, you know that now. Dreams don’t leave hickeys.

You had to admit, you groaned out loud after waking up in your own bed. Your empty bed.

It felt like the universe was mocking you. Here you were, thrust back into your lackluster, frustratingly boring life after getting a taste of what could’ve been. Like a good dream that gets cut off right before the climax.

And that’s what you thought it was at first. A dream.

The sound of dripping water is what wakes you up, another reminder that the roof needs fixing and that you’re going to have to take care of it yourself. Rolling your eyes, you shove off the covers and swing your legs over the side of the bed, wincing at how unforgivably cold the floor is.

If it weren’t for the bathroom mirror, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the marks at all.

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Reverse Genshin AU(?) Scaramouche -THE Y/N main-

Introductions!

Works as a waiter in a shady club in the outskirts of town; can and WILL get information out of people and sell it for a price. Barely touches the game while working, but makes up for it when on his way back home on the train. There was on time when someone tried to steal his phone despite his “fuck off” vibes; the poor to-be-thief didn’t get to even get his hands on the phone before Scaramouche basically killed him with a glare. Plays whomever he finds enjoyable, but is willing to spend money on his favorites (especially you). WHEN you appeared on the story he was absolutely floored, obliterated, GONE, WRECKED- ok, to be fair, he LOVED your design and after you said your first line, he was smitten. Will hunt down ANY crumbs about your story, past, present and future; in case you have a tragic tale, despite his claims about not giving a shit, he will be quite understanding and i’m not the one to tell you, and you’re not one to know but he may or may not have shed a tear or two.

Wishing!

Screams “FUCK YES!” When your trailer is revealed, has your OST on blast in his room; despite your banner coming up WHILE he’s working, he will wait until he gets back home to throw all his wishes to you.  Loudest out of everyone when it comes the time to pull on your banner. Everyone will know the moment he gets you. C6 you a week after getting you first, he wanted to ensure he likes your playstyle that people sing praises to. He fucking LOVES IT. Scaramouche also gets surprisingly lucky on his pulls to C6 you, wins his 50/50 almost every single time and gets your designated supports to c6 too. Had a respectable amount of wishes piled up JUST for you. He gets absolutely wrecked when it comes to your weapon tho- so much bloodshed on that banner, gets a couple of weapons to R5 before he gets yours.

Time to Play!

The bitch that refuses to make public his builds despite having really solid ones If you manage to see them however, you will NEVER see a (Y/N) better built in your life, those artifact rolls are the “see it to believe it” trope. He loves you so much is incredible.Will change his profile to ONLY show you and your build. Gets a reputation after some youtuber comes across his profile and fawns over that glorious build. He’s known as THE y/n main after that.High-key proud but won’t be caught dead saying that.

“ sleepy days “

tws // soft scaramouche, literally thats it nothing else

pairing // scaramouche x gn!reader

genre // fluff fluff FLUFF!!!

authors note // ill b posting from time to time! im working on a xiao fic so that might slow down things, also if u wanna be added to a taglist, send me an ask so i can put you there. enjoyy! wc: 0.2k

“mm.. dont go..” scaramouche tugged at your clothing once he felt the bed moving slightly. he is a light sleeper, after all he needs to make sure people dont kill him, you know?

“scaramouche, please. i need to go make breakfast,” you looked back at him, he looked so, peaceful. “i dont wanna get up either-“ you tried to remove his hand from your shirt “then stay here..” he cuts you off, sleepily sitting down beside you and hugging you from behind. planting small kisses around your neck. “stay, please. you can do your stupid work later..” who were you to refuse when he was acting so soft and cute?

“good” kiss “we can” kiss “just sleep in” kiss “for the day” kiss. as if they ended his sentences. 

“since were you such a softie, scaramouche?” you giggled at his actions. he dragged you down back to lay down with him in bed, he tucked the stray hair from your face behind your ear, kissing your forehead after. “sorry, i just love you alot” he apologized, nuzzling his head in your neck.

you patted his hair softly and you felt him smile “my my, have i finally won you over?” you ask with a hint of teasing in your tone. “yeah you’ve definitely have.” scaramouche uses his hands to hug you, kissing you on the lips. “i love you” you hear him whisper. he repeats it a few more until you fell asleep from the comfort.

“im not showing it that often am i? i swear, ill protect you forever. and that, cute, infectious smile of yours.”

did anyone ask for fatui found family hc’s?? no???? too bad anyway here’s my 300 page doc on why the harbingers + the tsaritsa are the ultimate villain found family trope and in this essay i will—

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LOVE LETTER !

— gyeong-su has a huge crush on y/n, he would've confessed by now and asked her out but the problem is she's gwi-nam's little sister

pairing! han gyeong-su x f! reader

warnings! low(high)key ooc gwi-nam (?), accused of p3rverted acts and that's about it ig lmk if i missed smthn

note! falling in love with the school bully's sister trope ;>

Cheong-san gave his best friend a look of disbelief, Gyeong-su have been staring at yoon y/n ever since she arrived at the cafeteria and that was basically all he could do.

"Gyeong-su come on just make your move!" Cheong-san says out of annoyance, Gyeong-su glares at him "tsk..yeah right, like you already made your move" he mutters

Su-hyeok snickers as he munched on the chicken in his plate "sure, you just won't ask her out because she's off limits"

Gyeong-su groans knowing that the tall man was right and as if on cue Gwi-nam was starting to walk towards their table

"hey hey- is he walking this way? did he catch me staring at his sister? uh- i'll get goi-" Gwi-nam was already standing in front of them before Gyeong-su could even finish his sentence, "crap" he whispers underneath his breath

he looks away and whistles nervously "hey. what's your business with my sister huh?!" Gwi-nam asks, voice loud enough for everyone in the cafeteria to hear which caused them to turn their direction to see what's going on

Gyeong-su shakes his head and Gwi-nam rolls his eyes "yeah right you've been staring at her since she got here! you do that in classes too! bet you tried to take a peek on her showering?!" Gwi-nam growls while Gyeong-su immediately shakes his head "WHAT?! NO! I'D NEVER!" he denies and Gwi-nam just sighs

"sure..here" he hands Gyeong-su a letter, looking at their table he saw y/n with her eyes wide and Gwi-nam's friend smirking while wiggling their eyebrows and elbowing y/n "i found that in my sister's bag and being the kind, loving and very considerate brother i am i decided to give it to you as her love life is as dry as the Sahara Desert thank me later by the way" Gwi-nam says smugly and when he turned around he was met with a fist going straight to his nose

"OUCH! THAT FUCKING HURT YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT!" he yells while y/n stuck her tounge out "that's what you get for going through my stuff AGAIN" y/n was about to head back to their table with Gwi-nam until she noticed Gyeong-su, Cheong-san and Su-hyeok reading the love letter she wrote

Su-hyeok was the first to turn to them, a smug smirk on his lips as he wiggled his brows "look at that..Gwi-nam helping his little sis get a boyfriend when in 10th grade he denied all my advances in asking y/n out, life's unfair" he says jokingly and dramatically

"fuck off" Gwi-nam mutters eyes rolling once more, he noticed y/n's face slowly going pale as Gyeong-su looked up at her "you like me?"

y/n facepalmed not answering the man's question and turning around to leave but before she could go any further Gyeong-su takes hold of her wrist "answer me" he says- no demands. looking away y/n nods and just as she was about to walk away Gyeong-su begins to laugh

"YES!" he exclaims and pulled y/n into a kiss, she kissed back but suddenly felt herself being dragged from behind on her uniform's collar

she turns slightly to see her brother, Gwi-nam who had a frown "yeah yeah sweet lovey dovey shit please don't do that in front of me again" he says with a sarcastic smile while y/n hits his arm complaining that he ruined her moment

meanwhile Gyeong-su touched his lips as his other fist formed into a ball, raising it up with a proud smile on his face "SHE'S MINE NOW!" earning claps from the students around them

teasingly he turns to his two best friends who were happy for him "now..it's your guys' turn to ask your crushes out" he says making the two roll their eyes "oh please, it was all thanks to your future brother-in-law that you got the girl"

© c0rpsefairii on tumblr | do not steal, copy, translate or repost

Did you take request? If so, can it be gn?

Um..hehe, can I get yandere scaramouche when he know that reader has a lover that sadly die, but for some reason reader can't moved on. Not like they want to, and each day scaramouche could tell that reader is thinking about them.

Doesn't matter if he punish them or anything, each pain will just be met with "if scaramouche indeed killed me then can I finnaly see you darling?"

And while they were obedient, scaramouche definitely can tell that reader think of him as "replacement" ya know? Perhaps it's his eyes resemble them or his hair or whatever you can possibly think of.

If you didn't take a request feel free to delete this but please tell me cuz I know I'm gonna be waiting.

Yandere Scaramouche x GN Reader

/// Carved From Dreams - Part 1

Summary:

Slightly inspired by the myth Pygmalion

Your mind still recalls when you were a woodblock printer for the God of Eternity. With Raiden Ei's powers, your prints became those beautiful prototype puppets. But, unfortunately, you foolishly fell in love with your creation, so when he dies, and you are left devastated, The Balladeer uses your sorrow and his appearance, which perfectly mirrors your former lover, to get you wrapped around his finger.

Warnings: Angst, Death, Depression (more to be added in the 2nd part)

word count: 5.8k

Snezhnaya is cold.

Too frigid to relax. One always needs to be on the move, or else the hoarfrost will gobble you up.

Though a fox envoy, your memories of being a servant to the God of Eternity have all but faded into the glimmering snow. Yet for some reason, each night as the heavenly moon peeks a glance at your half-sleeping form shrouded in satin and silken sheets at Zapolyarny Palace, everything seems to come back.

The sea of white. Those poignant kisses that left burns on your beating heart. Never-ending tears. The mikos must have passed on the tale of an aloof kitsune whose robes were stained purple for an entire summer.

Perhaps it is like muscle memory, or maybe all of it became engraved into your mind that afternoon at Tenshukaku. Yes, the experience was akin to red wine tainting a wedding dress. You may try to forget. You may try to scrub out the haunting darkness until your skin peels off and your bones show, but the mark will always be there. Even if it’s just seen by you.

Nevertheless, it is something that lasts for an eternity.

You could recall the way paper became skin, how colored ink became violet eyes and plush lips, how each stroke became strands of hair.

He was sketched by you, carved by you, inked by you.

But honestly, could something so fair and radiant truly stem from a simple woodblock print crafted from your hands? You still ask yourself that very question. Yet one thing that you can be certain about is that Her Excellency, the Electro Archon, really did amaze you. Back then, the scarlet sun was setting; as she examined the nude, slender puppet, her face didn’t show a sliver of awe nor a shred of doubt. It was as unmoving as her goal.

You opened your eyes.

Still nighttime. Still too cold.

A chilling breeze invaded the room and you shivered as you pulled up the silken sheet to your chin and tiredly scrutinized your surroundings. He left the window open again. You shifted your body slightly to look at the Harbinger better.

The eagerness to lock the window and close the curtains was strong; however, in these scarce moments, as he obeys slumber’s will, he appears so insecure and pure. The word innocent crossed your mind. A princely face that lacks nothing except a touch of celestial divinity weeps for a tender heart and glazed dreams. His pale skin glowed in the moonlight.

You breathed lightly and didn’t dare to get out of the bed. A single disturbance would awaken the ruthless man. If you committed the transgression, a severe punishment wouldn’t be a surprise.

Besides, you didn’t really want to awake him, anyway, since in these fleeting moments, the Balladeer reminds you of the crack of thunder and brilliance of lightning.

So bright and clear like Akihito. A mere prototype puppet before him.

___

That summer in Inazuma, it was especially hot.

“Don’t be worried, Ei! If anything, my former ward is a shut-in.” Your master, Yae Miko, was always rather blunt. Even as a fellow kitsune, you couldn’t keep up with her demanding, mischievous personality. “You know I don’t like this nonsense you're concocting, but how could you think such preposterous notions? That I would bring someone who can’t be trusted!”

“Miko. Please.” Beelzebul vexingly sighed at her friend’s behavior and gave a cross response. “Everything must be perfect for my plan to take form. No one besides a few must know.” The Electro Archon monitored your eyes shifting from place to place, taking in the lavishness of Tenshukaku. She walked towards you and lifted your chin. You tried to stop your fox ears from twitching. Her touch was, not surprisingly, electrifying. “Miko tells me you're a skilled artist.” She grabbed your hands and inspected them. “Calluses. You practice your craft often, I see.”

“Yes, Your Excellency, I make a variety of woodblock prints. Some depicting the Shrine, some tales from the past, others mere imaginative scenes. I sell them in the city and during seasonal festivals.”

“Good, good.” You couldn’t really tell if she was pleased or not. She spoke so plainly. “Now, answer this question, and I will see if you are fit for my task as Miko so claims.” Your archon’s lilac eyes glowed brightly like an angelic spring morning, but they were solemn. Hands still being held by her were gripped tightly as if begging for you to speak earnestly.

“What does eternity mean to you?”

Abruptly, memories of lazy days at the Shrine came into your mind. Days when you tried to help your master with utter mischief. Times when you would simply listen to the koto being plucked at dawn or the shamisen being strummed at dusk. Echoes of the jingles from the suzu bells being performed by dutiful maidens in red hakamas and white kosodes rippled in your mind. Those nights when you would venture into the ruins of Araumi and sleep under a cherry blossom tree, dreaming of Kitsune Saiguu, bring sugary nostalgia.

But in actuality, the aftermath of the Cataclysm was your childhood. The ghosts of family members who succumbed to the potent abyss scratch your skin. They craved your innermost thoughts. You were so young when it occurred, but you remember how the shrine maidens would pet your fur to soothe the nightmares that plagued you. Vague images of eyes feasting on your form brought shudders. Faint sounds of talons clawing a wall gifted shrieks. You would only shift back into a more human form when Guuji Yae was around.

One morning as the sakura blooms seemed to float higher and higher into the misty sky, your master gifted you ink as black as shadows, paper as delicate as clouds, and a brush as fine as thread, and instructed you to paint whatever pleased you. Her blush-colored hair in the somber winds of Mt. Yougou blocked her stunning face for a moment. Her gold headdress—just polished— shined excessively.

“Come now, my dear. This will help you.”

You crafted scenes from fairytales. Skillful strokes told the story of a young fox walking through a riveting forest of cherry blossoms. Your family was there. In your work, the branches of the Sacred Sakura no longer wept over the fact that ichor from the one with a feeble heart and an oil-paper umbrella soiled the land that day. The lamentable cries of lightning didn’t startle Narukami Island when you were engrossed by your canvas.

Every piece you made became more beautiful and picturesque as your nightmares became more ravenous. You thought that if you shared your work, you would experience more bliss, so you moved to woodblock printing for faster production. That gullible hope died out soon.

“What a twisted child. The more they suffer, the more exquisite their work becomes.”

Ink stained the tatami flooring. Paper scattered your room. Slabs of wood were unattractively laid everywhere. One would've had to be careful not to step on a carving knife. Blisters, calluses, and splinters littered your hands. Even the shreds of ripped work still created masterpieces.

You transformed and curled into yourself, your tail blocking weary eyes from the light of the dimly burning lantern.

Just as you were about to remember more, an electrifying touch brought you back. You pondered for a moment.

“Eternity, to me, means achieving absolute happiness. Abandoning the waking world for one of euphoric dreams.”

Ei uttered the next few words so softly.

“It’s as if I’m staring into a looking-glass, and for once, I’m seeing myself. Not who I want to be… Not Makoto.”

That night, there was a sorrowful thunderstorm. The mournful tune of tragedy kept all of Inazuma awake.

___

The God of Eternity only had one request for you: The design of the prototype puppet mustn’t have the same appearance as herself. It may look similar, but not exact.

It’s just a test, after all.

After a variety of sketches, the one you presented to the Raiden Shogun was elegant.

Her reaction to some would be considered rather dull. A nod was all that was given. But the approval was thrilling.

The path to eternity had begun.

You remember the way the shrine maidens teasingly snickered as you tiredly hacked down a few sakura trees. Huffs and puffs, your heated face covered in sweat, drew their attention. The pink petals billowed in the air before they landed on your attire. You haphazardly dropped your axe, collapsed on the ground, and sharply exhaled. Pain ravaged your arms and back.

“My, my, not exactly what you signed up for, is it?” You rolled your eyes with slight annoyance. Your master articulated her words so gracefully, but anyone close to her could pick up on the underlying tone of amusement.

“It isn’t every day that someone works for their Archon,” you playfully defended yourself, waving your hand to shoo her away.

“That may be true.” Yae put her hands on her hip and sighed. “I think Ei is acting like a child throwing a tantrum with this ‘plan for everlasting eternity.’” Her eyes shifted to the trees that were victims of your slaughter. All of the fallen petals made exquisite pools of pink. “Yumemiru wood. Good choice.”

___

You stayed up all night making the first print, though not one that would be of much use to Her Excellency; it was a sentimental souvenir. Your heart thumped with excitement and anticipation.

It was second nature to you already. To paste the sketch drawn on washi onto the wooden block, to carve the surface, to repeat the whole process until you had a woodblock for each color to be added.

Your creation would have lavender eyes lined with crimson, lithe arms, and a gentle smile. His black robes loose on his body revealed his bare chest adorned with the lilac emblem of the Shogunate. Proof of his lineage, which stems from the divine, and evidence of his purpose, to house a celestial heart.

As the hours passed, your vision blurred. You didn’t mean to, but you ended up dozing off and dreamt of a young man strolling below tranquil wisteria trees. There was a slight fog on the narrow path. Dark hair flowed as he turned around to greet you. The geta sandals he wore echoed a low click sound as they met cobblestone. Lavender eyes matched the scenery. His chest ignited, his heart pulsated with power. He reached for your rough hands and placed them on his slightly exposed torso.

Gleaming tears spilled down his regal face. He mouthed something to you, but you woke up gasping for air.

Ugh! I fell asleep. You almost spilled the inks you made and nearly cut your hand on your tools.

The heavenly moon lit the room with nightly opulence. A feathery chill ran down your spine, a breeze pecked your cheeks.

Huh… It seems that you had left the window open again.

___

That afternoon at Tenshukaku, you weren’t sure what to feel, but frustration was certainly an option.

The way the Raiden Shogun observed you so intensely became seared into your distressed consciousness. She was like a teacher testing their pupil as you applied the ink onto the paper with the help of a baren. After you embossed your name and the number one onto the print, you handed it to the grim deity.

“It is finished, Your Excellency.”

Ei stared at the work of art for a second. Perhaps examining the youthful face of the man who would aid in her arduous pursuit to be closer to the Heavenly Principles. Maybe she was astounded by the vibrant hues of purple that made up hair and eyes. You couldn’t tell. Her face was as blank as the stack of unused kozo paper laid on the tatami mats.

As fast as lightning, her plum eyes became incandescent, her eyebrows furrowed, her braided hair came undone a bit. A gust of wind nearly knocked you over. The luxurious room quivered. The dendrobiums closed their ruby petals. You hissed at the intense light diffusing from her.

In a second, the print vanished, yet you knew what had transpired. Skin from paper, eyes from ink, but still, he would lack a benevolent heart.

You didn’t have a moment to relish the fact that your art had come to life, because as soon as he opened his eyes, the puppet withered away into dust.

Mouth now agape, hands clenching your clothes, you snapped your head back to Beelzebul to receive much-needed answers.

“It will take some time before one can even last more than a second,” she said, tone completely casual. “We must continue. This is why I chose a woodblock printer. The mass-production aspect of the craft will speed up the process immensely.”

“But–”

“Let’s make haste.”

About fifty prints took their first breath that entire evening. Out of all of them, only twenty prototypes weren’t wholly ephemeral in nature; however, they showed no sign of function. Perhaps you should’ve asked if you were supposed to paint strings on the puppets.

Ironically, though she was someone who should have all the time in the world, the God of Eternity didn’t want to wait until the nonfunctional ones vanished back to dust to further her progress. She cruelly threw their pale bodies onto the floor like a child discarding an old doll for a new toy. They laid there like corpses stacked in a pile. Some had their lifeless eyes still open, as if attempting to resurrect. Even as you continued your monotonous work by applying the ink, using the baren, embossing your name and the number which belonged to that specific prototype, only just to repeat the process, those unchanging melancholic eyes stifled your mind.

You winced as you heard the sickening thud of one of the bodies falling. Their heads and limbs moved unnaturally with the sudden movement. One underneath had disappeared, allowing for gravity to simply follow its laws.

Prototype number forty-three, or so you believe, was one of the ones on top, but he tumbled down the heap and ended up right next to you. A few strands of hair covered his face. His limp arm stretched out completely. A slightly bruised hand was open, as if begging for you to hold it.

You lifted your head from your work to stare at the man you had sketched, carved, and inked. How handsome he is.

A reserved sigh was emitted from the woman with a noble body and amethyst irises. You paid no mind to her as you stood up and cradled the forsaken being in your arms before placing him back onto the morbid mound.

Calloused hands cupped the lifeless face of the prince. “I don’t want you to be alone. Have sweet dreams with your brothers.”

You used your index finger to close all their eyelids carefully. You thought you did it to give them some peace as they decay. But really, that harrowing lavender color prickled your soul for what felt like an eternity.

___

It took about a month before you and Ei managed to create a puppet that seemed to be promising. Unlike the others, you asked if you could give him a name, as you would be the one in charge of watching him to see if he’d be fit to move on to the next stage.

After hundreds of times, the ordeal wasn’t as bewildering as that first afternoon. It became like an everyday chore. Numbness was all to be felt. But the second he gasped for air, took in his surroundings, and grinned excitedly, you blinked. Shock seeped into your heart and mind. Huh, this one is rather distinct from the others.

You decided on the name Akihito. It was fitting. That smile of his was so bright and clear.

Time passed by quickly; you wished the kamera was invented sooner. The burning yearn to go back and somehow capture those moments has disturbed you for centuries. You remember how you brought him to Konda Village and taught him how frail crystalflies are, how warm the day is compared to the dignified night, and how to paint what’s on his mind.

It was the simple things with Akihito. He would ask about someone’s day, how they were feeling, have they eaten yet, have they smiled at all. He made the citizens of Inazuma laugh so easily.

Once, you brought him to the Shrine, and he held your rough hands. You mindfully noted how delicate his were. He stopped every second to talk to passersby. He even gave his spare dango to a weeping child near the torii gates.

“Why must you stop so much?”

“Because the present moment is so fleeting. We must treasure it through our interactions with others.”

He soon knew more about the maidens at the Shrine than you did, and you had spent your whole life with them.

You remember your cheeks heating when you watched his face brighten as the mikos performed the sacred kagura dance.

The realization that you liked spending time with him — not just because he's your artwork, nor just because it's your job — wasn’t as tough to swallow as you thought it would be.

___

Your room was nothing short of a chaotic mess back then.

Inks, most commonly hues of purple, always stained the tatami flooring. Kozo paper was always scattered around. Slabs of yumemiru wood were always haphazardly strewn all over the place. Whenever Guuji Yae came to visit you, she had to be extra careful not to step on your tools.

The word embarrassment wouldn’t be able to properly describe what you had felt when Akihito asked to visit your dwelling. Besides Tenshukaku, your little abode was also your studio.

Without thinking one day, you had told him that the majority of your equipment and original prints were there.

He smiled. Of course, he did. That’s what he’d never stopped doing.

“May I pay your room a visit? I would love to see your process.” Akihito pleaded to you. Well, that’s how the sensation of those handsome, lavender eyes growing rounder with questioning awe felt.

You resigned. You couldn’t say no to those eyes and that enrapturing beam.

You briskly turned your head away from his inquiring stare and looked down at the ground. You attempted to distract yourself by scrutinizing his geta sandals instead. “It’s kind of an eyesore, though…Everything is rather cluttered.” The urge to say no was immense, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling that you felt safe sharing everything with him.

“I don’t mind. I can even help you clean your room! If you want me to. You have done so much for me. It’s the least I can do!”

Courage must have possessed you because you met those bright eyes and fondly brought your right hand to his face.

“No, you are the one who has helped me so much.”

You realized what you had done and tried to pull away swiftly, but he caught your rough hand and tugged you into a warm embrace. The sudden affection caught you off guard.

By the end of the idyllic day, your room was spotless.

You made sure to leave the window open, for there was a pleasant breeze.

___

It was around noon time when it occurred. Another month had nearly passed.

Those breathtaking lavender eyes closed, his eyebrows raised slightly, he chuckled. You rested your head on his lap. You two were under a cherry blossom tree in the Araumi region. The regal young man caressed your skin and pet your fox ears. Akihito’s form was hunched slightly to shelter your eyes from the sunlight that was slipping through the branches. Light pink petals fell on top of his head; they contrasted with his indigo hair. He gleefully giggled, and you joyfully sighed and booped his nose.

___

“Why don’t you paint as much anymore?” your master questioned you one evening. Her hands were on her hips, her white and scarlet sleeves swaying from the movement. There was a hum in her voice.

“I suppose I’ve been happier lately.” You looked directly into her violet eyes. “I took up art so that it could help me like you said it would. It’s just that, now, I don’t need to worry about the nightmares anymore.”

Yae Miko took your hands and drew comforting circles into your skin. “Be careful, dear, those who abandon the waking world for one of enchanting dreams only mourn when they return to reality.”

A frown fell upon your confused face. Shouldn’t she be happy for you?

“By the way, your hands have become soft.”

___

The temperature was searing when the God of Eternity invited you back to Tenshukaku. You gave your report on his progress.

“He reminds me of Makoto.”

She always spoke that name whenever it was morning; it was as if the luminous rays that bring fertile life to Teyvat were as jubilant as her deceased sister. Makoto was her sun. Ei was merely another planet revolving around such brilliance.

“She, too, was gentle and loved by everyone. I believe he will be a fitting vessel.” Beelzebul lifted her hand before closing it tightly and concentrating. She then opened her fist, and a purple chess piece began to float. “This is my gnosis; it represents my divinity and status as an archon. As I will be placing my consciousness into my sister's sword, the Musou Isshin, I will need a place to house my celestial powers.”

You had already been informed about this ordeal, but seeing the gnosis in person was a rather bewitching experience. The sheer energy it radiated was terrifying. Why was it so captivating? The luminous glow of the minute yet potent object was hypnotizing.

Your pupils must have dilated.

However, you couldn’t stop the dreadful feeling of drowning in nauseating darkness as you neared it. The heaviness was too similar to those plaguing nightmares you had.

You didn’t even notice you were about to snatch it until Ei swatted your hand away.

“Apologies. I should’ve been more careful. I know how entrancing it is. A whole war was fought between gods to gain one.”

Your ears fell down. How embarrassing. “I’m sorry, Your Excellency, it won’t happen again.” Sheepish words rolled off your tongue as you scratched the back of your neck.

“No need to apologize. Now, let’s bring in Mako—“ She cleared her voice. “Akihito.”

You slid open the shoji door. Inside another room was the one with a pure smile. Akihito was working on an ink painting. Not a single dark drop tainted the chabudai or the tatami flooring. So mindful. Rigid branches, budding blossoms, and a kitsune dressed in a yukata weren’t anything praiseworthy, but there was a splendid air about the focus in his eyes. You mastered many mediums of art as a means of income and as a means to escape the woes that life brings, but in his case, anyone could tell that he did it to experience joy.

He was having fun.

“Far from a masterpiece, but I wanted to capture that memory of us under the cherry blossom tree in Araumi. I didn’t get to finish myself, but I’m more than happy that I was able to draw you. Even if you don’t look as… attractive due to my skills.” Words so timid yet sincere were whispered. “I know I may not have a heart… but I believe I understand what I feel.”

A light thud sounded as you sat down beside him and rested your head on his shoulder.

“Akihito, my love, we mustn't make Her Excellency wait.”

“I know.”

___

The clock signaled that it was already past noon.

It was, yet again, another afternoon at Tenshukaku.

He laid down on a futon placed on the ground and undid his robes slightly to expose his chest. That violet marking, the symbol of the Bakufu, was far too jarring on his fair skin. Indigo hair, the color of the night sky, was sprawled out like lightning scattered throughout a storm.

He shut his eyes and breathed in, then out.

Ei knelt down beside him, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and placed her index finger near his hairline. She touched every curve and dip of his forehead, nose, lips, neck, and chest as she grazed her finger down his body. One can tell that everything about him was designed with a purpose. Your deity placed her palm flat on his chest before curling her fingers in, just below the stately symbol. Light scratch marks began to swell.

There was that familiar glow. Looking back, you curse yourself for not having grown used to it after so many puppets, after seeing the gnosis, after this.

But then again, how could you, when the memory that follows is the image of the God of Eternity shoving her fist into his chest.

Piercing skin that was once paper.

There was no sweat, no clenched fists, no furrowed eyebrows. The poor creature displayed no pain so as to not frighten you.

Was it a success? That single thought raced into your mind. You bit your lip anxiously.

The gleaming lilac halted. Her pristine hand left his body. For once, her face bore an expression. Pure disappointment.

Those lavender eyes suddenly shot open and moved around frantically, his lips parted slightly, attempting to speak. You quickly rushed to him and touched his hand.

“Hey, it's okay… It’s over.” A tender lover you were. You rubbed delicate hearts into his palm.

Akihito’s back arched. Those petrified eyes wouldn’t stay still. He harshly snatched his hand from your soothing touch and uncontrollably gripped and pulled his sleek hair. That slender body wouldn’t stop jerking back and forth. That fair skin was turning as white as snow. Fingers contoured into grotesque shapes. His mouth opened and closed desperately.

He’s trying to speak. He’s trying to gain control. He’s trying to survive.

You hastily turned your head to his other creator and shrieked at her.

“Do something! H-He’s dying!” Oh, how big and small you felt that day as you insulted your god. “It’s always like this! You…You monster! You always have to just stand there with that horrible blank expression. You never cared about any of them!” The wretched sentences you seethed were merely the bubbling surface. Deep inside, you felt so much anguish and pain that words couldn’t have even been formed from your mouth to communicate to her. Too many “yous” were wailed that afternoon.

I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be alone…

That phrase flew around and accumulated in your mind like a blizzard.

The Electro Archon looked at the scene with a vacant face. “There is nothing I can do. It seems I overestimated him, this project, and, most of all, you.” Beelzebul tilted her head and pitied your trembling form. It reminded her of that fateful event. “He is malfunctioning due to the gnosis. There is no use in taking it out now. The outcome will be the same.”

You clicked your tongue, annoyed at her indifference. She had nursed that face for so long that it had left her naught but a hollow shell. She was more of a puppet than they were.

You briskly tuned out her words and cradled his body so tightly in your arms, bringing your forehead to his. Akihito’s bright, clear face and limbs were littered with ink-like markings, a sign that his body and mind were yielding to heinous forces. They were devouring the gracious man alive.

You tried to turn his face so that his eyes would look directly into yours. But, even then, he kept staring at the ceiling, as if searching for something more.

“Cel—”

“Celestia.”

Your eyes widened. “Yes, what is it, my love?” A sorrowful smile was plastered onto your face as he began to murmur. Tears ran down. They fell onto his face sloppily.

A weak arm tried to affectionately touch your sobbing form. You brought his hand to your wet cheek, answering his wish.

“I’m...I’m sorry, but now that I have a heart…. I know for certain that I can say that I-I love you.”

That nimble hand withered away.

You hugged him so tightly and wept, “Please, don’t go… I can’t face them without you. Not without the person I love.”

Though his smile was no different than that time at the Shrine, that time napping under the cherry blossoms, and that time watching the mikos dance, the main thing you couldn’t help but notice was how those lavender eyes were the last to fade away. Like always, they still had that shine that defined him. That sparkle that revealed how much he valued the present moment.

You nestled your face into his black robes, bunched them together, and held them firmly like a mother holding an infant. Trying to conserve the warmth, scent, anything.

It was one summer afternoon at Tenshukaku that you realized how transient eternity really is.

___

Your master knocked on your door. She begged you to answer. “Dear, you must come out. It’s been weeks.” Autumn was arriving. Children would soon be dressed in adorable kimonos for the harvest festivities to come. All for Her Excellency's blessings and everlasting reign. Crimson leaves would stain the land.

It would soon be too cold to relax.

There was another knock. Why does it matter if you wallow in your grief or not? Nothing truly changes with you. Your life was set in stone the moment your parents perished to the abyss.

Ink once again stained the tatami mats of your floor. Paper once again was scattered around your room. Those slabs of wood were once again unattractively laid everywhere.

Everything that had occurred with Akihito disappeared. All those happy changes were gone in an instant.

Yet, the only things that didn’t revert back were your hands. They stay changed. You couldn’t bring yourself to draw again. No more rough calluses or blisters; they will forever remain as delicate and supple as velvety petals. Just like they were that afternoon he melted away from your scorching touch.

“The mikos are worried about you.”

Perhaps you were being too harsh, but that flowery, saccharine voice of hers made you gag. A cacophonous ring it had, like funeral bells tolling. You nearly put your right hand over your left on your throat to halt the bile from rising and consuming every waking specimen. But what left did you have to regurgitate? You vomited your singing heart as he mumbled those last words. You yearned for those lazy, scenic days spent with him.

Taunting laughs stung your brain. You scrambled to grip Akihito’s black robes tighter in an attempt to control the heavenly and abyssal images that pester and pick.

“What is it?” You spat it out finally.

The mouthwatering smell of fried tofu delectably laid atop udon started to cloud the vicinity.

Oh, she’s good.

“I figured I’d bring your favorite.” Yae Miko placed the tray outside your room, but she didn’t leave. A deplorable phantom, she was. Was she here to mock you? To once again sabotage your life?

You flung the door open, seized the steaming bowl of kitsune udon, and savagely threw it at her.

But of course, the Guuji was always more agile.

“You could’ve burned me, you know?” That tone of amusement, that laugh of hers that treated everything like a humorous joke, irked you terribly.

Oh, when did you become so unruly and rebellious? Childhood was long gone.

“I hate you! Why did you bring me to her? You knew her plan would end up like this, yet still, you brought me to Tenshukaku!” Tears started to well up. Those skeletons of the bygone times dug their claws into your ankles and wrists. “You were like a sister to me. I was filled with joy when you were placed as my guardian.”

You collapsed to your knees.

“Why did you do this to me?” Those black robes once again became damp from heartache. “I even introduced him to you, and you didn’t do anything!” Each syllable was exclaimed so shakily, so breathlessly.

She hummed as you continued to babble and sob. “Well, I did give you a small warning that one time. But I will shoulder some of the blame if that will pacify you.”

Those violet eyes looked towards the ground. “I suppose I thought that if you, someone I know, were involved, we could lessen the damage Ei would cause with this foolish project.” Your master reached out to hold you. “My bad, my dear.”

Your blood boiled. You gritted your teeth, got up, and stomped closer to her. The broth soiled your attire. The wet fabric clung to your body. The fried tofu became disgusting mush under your bare feet.

You breathed heavily, chest heaving. Your fox ears twitched. Protracted sharp claws unintentionally ripped Akihito’s precious black robes. “Don’t. Patronize. Me.”

Too many unrelenting, intrusive thoughts invaded your head. You wanted to slap the arm that was reaching out to you. You wanted to push her to the ground and bellow out all that mauled what was left of your mind. You would go as far as to say that you even wanted to pierce her chest, snatch her heart, and make her feel what your love with indigo hair experienced.

Yae Miko gazed directly into your eyes. You nearly fell again when you saw the purple color. Everything went away. The bloodlust. The vengeful spirit. Your jaded soul even fled.

All that was left was the kitsune who tried to nap on their lover's lap. All that was left was a child who lost their family. All that was left was the artist who painted their plight. All that was left was the creator who laid those princes to rest and closed their lavender eyes.

All that was left was you.

You stumbled slightly, nearly slipping on the puddle of udon, as you treaded to your master and accepted her embrace. Sharp guilt formed.

“I’m sorry... I miss him. I was an idiot for falling in love.” your voice cracked.

A gust of air blew some of your disorderly papers lying on the ground to the door. From the corner of your eyes, you could tell which one was the one closest to you.

It was a scene of rigid branches, budding blossoms, and a kitsune in a yukata. The artwork was nothing praiseworthy, it was even unfinished, but you bawled and whimpered because you knew that fluttering sensation of felicity you felt when you saw it for the first time would never come again.

Another puff of wind came in.

It seems you had left the window open again.

Thank you for reading!! ღゝ◡╹ )ノ♡

Part 2 is already in the making! This was originally supposed to be one big oneshot, but I decided to split it due to its length

MAN there's been a critical lack of sagau tsaritsa content lately. downsides of being into characters we know next to nothing about i guess but i miss when we got new tsaritsa content kinda often 😭

Allow me dear anon hehe also tagging @lovesickeros because never met anybody who loves the tsaritsa as much as he does <3

Snezhnaya is not a warm nation. 

It is not, after all, known as the land of everwinter for no reason; snowstorms rage all year round, the frost chills the bones of even the fattest, most furred bear and what flowers bloom have long since adapted to the frozen grass and icy lakes. 

Snezhnaya is not a warm nation, for its Archon is none other than the Tsaritsa whose domain spans across the frost, the snow, and the biting chill of winter. 

Snezhnaya is not a warm nation but lately, it's been close.

Some would argue it's because of their God's presence within the cold walls of Zapolyarny Palace. Their very presence in Snezhnaya was due to their beloved Tsaritsa's cleverness; where the rest of the nations so foolishly rejected their God's presence and dared call them "face-thief", Snezhnaya opened its borders for them for they and their Tsaritsa knew the truth.

The Harbingers were of this opinion as well, though they never said a word to either their Grace or the Tsaritsa. It needed not to be said, anyways.

Not when they spent so much time together, practically joined at the hip:

"You should come sleep," you hum quietly in the silence of her private office, yours arms around her neck and your chin on her hair. "You've been working too much, love."

The Tsaritsa sighs, an action she does only with you. So many moves, so many gestures and emotions she only shows to you, and you cherish each one of them as much as you cherish her.

"Those fools refuse to leave you alone," she says, her tone just a tint hard. Her hands clench one of the many, many letters on her desk, filled with apologies and promises meant for you. "Shameful behaviour."

"I know, darling, I know," you take the letters from her to set aside, then claps your hands with hers. "We can deal with them in the morning, but for now let's go sleep."

She lets you lead her easily— she doesn't think there will ever come a day in which you'll lead her astray, a day in which she won't let you lead her.

She loves you; every motion and every thought, every little breath and laugh from you is like a balm to her soul. It shouldn't be surprising considering who you are to her, and yet—

Yet she finds her breath stolen all the same by you, when you so lovingly hold her without caring about how cold her body is. When you look at her with such love, such fondness and trust, she finds that she, too, is capable of being loved.

killing time

scaramouche x gn!reader | short fic.

warnings: swearing, blood, implied murder attempt and fighting, mentions of death, injuries, weapons

author's note: in this, reader is basically taking signora's place in the battle with the traveler (obviously) except they win. also this is a rly short fic so different format! hope it's fine!!! also x2 yeah more scaramouche sorry my inspo isn't rly there LMFAO

Scaramouche opened the doors to Tenshukaku with panting breaths. His eyes were wide-- Even more when he saw the scene before him.

The Traveler was on the ground, bleeding out. Kujou Sara was passed out elsewhere, and... He'd seen tons of guards on the ground as he ran to the building. There was blood and traces of your elemental energy everywhere he looked-- It was almost suffocating. In the back of the room, the Raiden Shogun sat quietly, watching over the scene-- Waiting for the Traveler to show that they were completely incapable of fighting.

And in the midst of it all, you stood there.

Your head was hanging low, hair slightly covering your eyes-- But not the smile on your lips. There was blood all over your weapon and your clothes. You were breathing heavily, foot slightly pushing the Traveler's weak figure on the floor. They tried their best to even grab their sword back, but it was way out of reach, and you were much stronger than them. From what the boy could tell, you hadn't even used your delusion yet. Despite that, you'd almost completely overpowered them.

"You..." he hissed, gaze sharpening as his fingers tightened around the door's edge.

You slowly looked up, huffing as you turned to look at him.

"Scara." you greeted casually, waving. He stood there, eye twitching as he smiled in frustration. You were even worse than Tartaglia. Goodness fuck. What was the battle even for? He had the Gnosis already. It was like... You were just killing time until you'd have to go back to Snezhnaya. He sighed.

What an annoyingly strong addition to the Harbingers.

— ᴛᴏ ᴀꜱʜᴇꜱ, ᴡᴇ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ

✧ notes ; The Tsaritsa, Childe / Foul Legacy, Zhongli, Ei, Venti | Imposter AU ✧ warnings ; blood, graphic injury, electrocution

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