Yandere Scaramouche X Reader - Blog Posts

Deep Sea Chapter IV. Yan Scaramouche x F Reader

>Rating: Mature. >Warnings: Yandere themes, mentions of amnesia, misgoynistic language, minor violence.  >Word count: 6k. >Deep Sea Index.

CHAPTER IV // ORPHAN SPIRIT

The fortune slip in your hand is heavy, even if it bends to the slightest breeze.

Mt. Yogou overlooks the rest of Narukami Island as if it were nothing but an insignificant speck. The buildings down below are tiny, the people tinier. You stretch your hand out into the horizon and grasp the distant Inazuma City and hold it in the palm of your head. How perfectly it fits, you muse. If only the same could be said for myself.

High up on the mountaintop, past the torii gates that welcome you into the realm of the divine, you fooled yourself into thinking the gods might hear out your plight. The dark ink painted on by elaborate brushstrokes echoes the same premonition it always has: great misfortune.

You sigh and consider what to do next. Last month, it was purchasing an omamori, but your luck remained as lackluster as ever. What should you try next?

Keep reading

Meant To Be Yours

Warnings: Yandere theme, blood, slight gore

Scaramouche x Reader, Xiao x Reader

The door slammed hard as you leaned in, inhaling deeply as your body shook. You've gotten a head start from escaping Scaramouche, but you can hear his footsteps approaching. The sound like death humming and it matches to your heart beating wildly.

You never anticipated this to happen, never imagined seeing your lover dead in the arms of a dear friend. His neck slashed at all angles, your once calm boyfriend now drenched in his own blood, while your friend merely glances at you and smiles.

You and Xiao's relationship had only recently begun, but the harbinger had already taken it away from you. You hugged Xiao, hoping to stop the blood from flowing from his wounds, but it was too late. Even though the Yaksha is no longer breathing, you try to wake him up by sobbing and hugging him closer to you. Scaramouche simply looks at you two with lifeless eyes, angered that you still prefer that bastard over him.

He loved you first! You're everything to him and that Adeptus took that away from Scaramouche. So he has no choice but to kill him and you won't have any options but to pick him this time because the moment that you stayed with him when he was alone and discarded is the time that he knew you belonged to him.

"(Y/n), open the—open the door, please"

Scaramouche gently knocks on the door, hoping not to frighten you. The blood from his hands stains the doorknob as he tries to forcefully open it.

"(Y/n), open the door!"

You tried to close the door as cracks appeared in the wood; he's using his delusion to destroy the only thing that stands between you and the monster he'd become. Your cries are muffled by how loudly he bangs his hands against the door.

"(Y/n), can we not fight anymore"

"Please, can we not fight anymore"

He's met with silence besides your crying. Here he is trying to talk to you and you're ignoring him! The harbinger is mad, he's furious. He can only see red as he hears the name Xiao escape your lips as if praying to him will fix everything!

"(Y/n), sure, you're scared, I've been there. I can set you free!"

The door can now be opened since the hinges have broken away from the force that Scaramouche has directed to it. He's so close to claiming what's rightfully his that resisting him is pointless. Why can't you see that you and him are fated to be together?! If he can only show it to you through force, so be it.

"(Y/n), don't make me come in there! I'm gonna count to three!"

Scaramouche is no longer the same person you trusted and loved; with each passing second, he becomes more deranged and insane.

"One! Two! Fuck it!"

Broken pieces of the door flew everywhere as you landed on your back, nothing but purple lightnings surrounded the room. You tried to run for the windows but he stabbed your legs before you can even stand up. Scaramouche grins at you, finally removing the obstacle that was keeping you away from him. You can only scream before he knocks you out and carries you outside, leaving the house burning and your lover's body inside.

//////

Just have to make this so my mind can rest from finding fics with this song. Now I can focus on school. Thanks for reading as always!

Pinkie Promise - Yan Scaramouche x [GN/NB] Reader

Note: The reader is implied to be nb. Instead of mom or dad, the reader is referred to as baba. 

Warnings: Yandere stuff, mention of death, kidnapping, coercion

Word Count: 2.6k

Keep reading

Orders

Horrortober Day 30: Blackmail “Why are you doing this to me?”

First time writing for Scara, aaaaaah! It was kind of hard but also satisfying? He has this two-faced personality and I think that’s just so neat for the yandere trope! Still, go easy on me for writing for him for the first time, thanks >-<

Warnings: Yandere, Blackmailing, Implied Violence, Pulling the reader by the hair, Intimidation Characters: Scaramouche/ Kunikuzushi / Balladeer x Reader

On your desk were the proofs and receipts of your failure.

Before you, the mocking grin of a wretched soul.

You stood over your desk, leaning down at it tensely, your hands curled into fists. If not for the fact that you did not want to give the Fatui the satisfaction of having anything on you, you would have liked to sit back and despair for a while. It was but a stupid joke that Scaramouche wanted to pull on you, but unfortunately, this joke would ruin you if you weren’t careful.

With the Tenryou Commission already having made dodgy dealings with the Fatui, maybe it shouldn’t have surprised you that the same mistakes were made in your own ranks. Perhaps you had been too proud to see them happening, but with everything that was collected before you, it would be your head on the line. For as long as you could think, you had worked diligently and in the best interest of your orders. Much better than what you could say about your underlings who seemed to have striven for greatness in a very different way than you.

What was so wrong about being honorable? You wondered about it as you pushed through the documents and letters scattered on the table. Why was it so hard not to give in to the temptation of power through crooked means? All you wanted now was to be frustrated and angry. To bring these miserable blokes to justice who risked not only their fates but yours as well. You’ve put so much into your unit’s training, trying to teach them values and treated them with the deserved respect. Yet, they walked all over you in the end.

“What do you want?” you grumbled, gnawing on your lip. Putting all the evidence of misconduct into a neat pile, you wanted to raise them in the air and throw them at the Balladeer’s smug face. How dare he even showed himself in front of you again. You sent him to the moon once, and nothing had changed about your opinion of him since then. Yet, he came back as if he was a welcome guest to your office, a grin on his face as if he knew more than you.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he scoffed, jokingly rolling his eyes before grinning again. “I need you to come with me. You are needed somewhere far away from here.”

“I don’t do business with your stinking organization,” you retorted, hissing the words in the hope he’d finally get the message. Scaramouche had been bugging you with this before, asking you to leave with him in case things go and don’t go the way he was planning. Crazy, considering you didn’t know him at all.

“So, you’re going to stay and see how your unit, your lifelong work, all just goes down the gutter? I can respect your worth ethic, but don’t you think you’re a little cruel to yourself?”

Getting up from his chair, Scaramouche let out a long sigh before he leaned over the desk, bringing his face too close for comfort. But you’d not back away. You had been fighting scarier opponents than the ones that looked like they were merely ten years old, yet talked like they ruled over the land you were standing on.

“You know nothing about us! Maybe if you dirty Fatui didn’t spread rumors and your disgusting Delusions, no one would have considered being led on by you!”

Even though you spat the words into his face, Scaramouche wasn’t backing away from you either. It was grossly obvious he enjoyed the challenge you were giving him, and you wondered if his life was so dull that bothering you was his only joy. “Maybe,” he chuckled.

The sudden feeling of a strange touch enveloped your fists which helped you lean on the table. A glance down, and you saw two hands caressing your skin curiously, Scaramouche only leaning closer in the moment you were distracted. “You will never know about what could have been. There is only the future we can change.”

Ripping your hands away from him, you finally recoiled. Even though you wanted to be strong and steady, not at the cost of having to be touched by someone who disgusted you so much. There were no words to describe the feeling of hatred you had for this man, who seemed to have singled you out. You barely believed your eyes when you saw him standing in your doorway, your last information having been that he left with the Fatui after their plot was uncovered.

Though you were wringing your hands to get the feeling of his fingertips off of you, it was no use. His touch was sticking to you like tree sap, repulsive, but the feeling always remained. “There is no ‘we’ in this. My future, my decisions.”

Before he could say anything more, you grabbed the papers, carrying them to the fireplace and feeding the hungry flames that awaited them. You’d have to deal with these problems, but not with the seemingly fake pieces of evidence and documents. One soldier at a time would get their deserved punishment, but you didn’t need the help of a Fatui Harbinger to do that. Clapping your hands and turning back to him, you sneered at Scaramouche from above, asking, “Anything else?”

He only continued to smile calmly, pulling another paper from his pocket and another. “How many copies do you think I have? Did you really think I’d give you the original documents? For how stupid do you take me?”

Your face dropped as you watched him produce copies left and right, almost enough to send them to every important person in Inazuma. “It’s not worth staying here, right? If anyone finds these, they will think you couldn’t stand the guilt anymore and abandoned your post. Don’t worry, we’ll be long gone by then,” he taunted you, and you tried to hide your discomposure behind anger.

“Why are you doing this to me?!” you yelled at him, losing it as he wouldn’t stop his mockery. But Scaramouche’s grin only widened in joy as he saw you lose all your cool, exactly what he wanted. He wanted to see this suffering side of you, the desperation and anger. It must have been all that’s on his mind since he came well-prepared to this meeting, one that would - if it came out you were meeting with a Fatui - already get you fired from this position you worked so hard for and had been so proud of for many years.

Finally, he stopped producing papers. No more evidence were left in his little scheme to get what he wanted, but it was enough to get you all executed. His focus was back at you wholly as he approached. Hands outstretched, he searched for yours that you folded in towards your chest, unwilling to hand them over. But you didn’t have to. Scaramouche took what he wanted regardless of how you felt about it.

“I’ve been doing all this for you, don’t you understand it? Now you’re free, and we can start over! So come with me, stop pretending it’s not what you want!”

Unable to understand what he meant, you shook your head in confusion, but Scaramouche’s grip only tightened, squeezing your hands so hard they began pumping blood through them. Free? Free of what? And what were you pretending in his opinion? The enthusiasm he had previously displayed as he threw those fake truths at you disappeared as you remained unwilling to join his joy. His expression turned into a dreadful scowl, and he gave your hands a firm tug, making you almost lose your balance as you didn’t expect it.

“Why do you keep pretending you don’t want to be with me? Are you sick? Broken? Do you need fixing? Why would you keep trying to stay here when you can be with me? You’re so annoying! Make up your mind!”

A tirade of words was screamed at your face as you desperately tried to keep up. Scaramouche was pulling you forward towards the door, more and more against your will, all while you didn’t know what any of his actions meant. You were lost, but you couldn’t help thinking that he seemed to be as well. “Stop it!” you barked back at him loudly, and only for a moment you managed to catch him off-guard, his expression showing the surprise about the loud order you made.

And suddenly, everything seemed to get worse.

“Stop?” he mumbled, narrowing his eyes dangerously. “I haven’t even started yet, you unthankful pest.”

You were thrown to the floor with unknown strength, though you quickly regained your clear thinking after the initial shock. Looking up at him, for the first time he seemed tall and scary to you as if he was going to stomp you into the ground any second now. “All I’ve been doing was for you to love me,” he revealed, and you grew more restless by the second. Who was he? You two never interacted more than once before this. Why did he think it was okay to treat you this way?

“So now, you have to love me, no matter what. You’ll come with me, even if it’s the last thing you do.”

Reaching for you, you hid your face as his hands closed in, fingers curling into your hair instead. Screams of pain erupted from your throat he pulled you after him with ease. There was no one around who could have saved you, you realized as you opened your eyes mid-scream, seeing all the bodies of your unit slumped against the walls and floor of your office building.

“See what I did for you? I prepared all these presents, you ungrateful wretch! Just for you! Be thankful and love me!”

“Stop it!” you bellowed at the top of your lunges, trying to claw at his hand buried in your hair, wanting him to let go. You had to do something! Those were still your soldiers! They relied on your help! No matter what they did wrong, they didn’t deserve to be treated this way, disrespectfully and horrifying!

“You’ll learn it soon enough,” Scaramouche laughed, though his voice carried bitterness in it now.

“I give the orders here.”

Can I get yandere scaramouche with gn reader? So, can I get where scaramouche try to find reader only to find them with their lover kissed under sakura blossom tree.

"y/n, I love so much hehe"

Reader : "haha try to flirt mmh?"

And they both basically kissed again and scaramouche saw all of that thing.

Poor reader's lover

Thanks for your request! I got an exciting idea when I read the last sentence of it >:3

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««

"Poor, poor thing," a male voice sighed in fake pity. Somehow the voice was very familiar to you, even though you could hear the sick smile of evil playing on his lips as he stalked around you. It gave you the feeling of talking to an old friend, and at the same time, a psychopath as well. Letting his hand fall to your shoulder, you flinched as he grabbed onto it tightly, not having expected this kind of closeness. Blindfolded and gagged, you couldn't help feeling even more scared than this situation already prompted in you.

"Did that evil man misguide you? Aren't you glad I came to your rescue?"

Struggling against the ropes that tied your wrists behind your back and to the chair you were sitting on, all sympathy for him was forgotten. What you really wanted was to leave an impact on the person that kidnapped you and your partner. Kick him, bite him, punch him so you could make a run for it, saving what was left to save. But robbed of your ability to move, speak, or even just see, you were at his mercy as he leaned forward to whisper into your ear.

"I'm usually not this nice, but for you, I'll get my hands dirty. No need to worry about him anymore."

As a cold shower ran down your spine, you felt his free hand creep up your neck and to the knot keeping the blindfold around your face. With a swift motion, it was pulled away, and you squinted at the sudden light before suddenly widening your eyes.

Before you, on a long table was your partner; just as miserably gagged and tied to the wood as you were. He looked at you with immense panic, his limbs flailing unsuccessfully as he struggled against the restraints. Unable to listen to his muffled words, you stretched and tried to focus on him when a jarring sound caught you off-guard.

Alarmed, you looked over to where the noise came from, a masked, tall man in white clothes and an apron approaching the table where your partner laid. If anxiety hadn't raged in you before, it was now spiking as you noticed the long cleaver in the man's hand, currently being sharpened as it kept producing the same metal scream over and over.

It set off a mix of fright and despair in both of you, the shining metal too close to your lover for comfort. Who were these people? What did they want? Why were they doing this to the two of you? Tears dripped from your lover's eyes, and you tried once more to free yourself. What did you two do to deserve this, you wondered as you had to watch your partner being circled, a few more men coming into view as they seemed to prepare a cruel ritual.

All of this almost made you forget about the person still standing behind you, his hands falling back on your shoulders as he let out a satisfied breath. "Do you like what I prepared for you? Front row seats as we dissect him. No need to thank me!"

A laugh followed those gruesome words as you felt your eyes brimming with tears after hearing them. Scared, muffled screams echoed through the room, and your own soon followed. "Oh? Want to do the honors? Be my guest, [Name]."

Just as quickly as the blindfold, the guy behind you pulled open the gag, the piece of wood falling from your lips followed by spit and tears. "NO!" you screamed, as loud as you could before sobs erupted from your throat, clogging your mouth and nose. "Please no! What did we do to you?!"

"Well..." was the elongated response from behind you before you felt the body shift, suddenly moving to the side before a head popped into your view.

"You--" you muttered in disbelief as you finally gave the voice a face, recognizing it after initially hesitating. You simply couldn't believe who was standing right in front of you.

"Remember me?" the young man grinned, flouncing forward with seemingly no care in the world. However, he never left you, only rounding you and blocking your view. Smiling, he cupped your cheek, letting his thumb wipe away the tears staining it. You could hardly believe it, remembering him as an experiment your parents had been conducting secretly on the Shogun's orders. Admittedly, you had been still a child back then, so when they told you they had a special task that only you could do, you were thrilled!

Naively, you felt proud of being a caretaker for the boy they were experimenting on. You'd serve him his food and have meals with him, as well as tell him about every-day-happenings. You two made up stories and played together with your toys until the fateful day you left him behind in that facility, only learning years later what this was all about.

"If... If it's revenge you seek, then do it to me! He has nothing to do with it!" you pleaded, nodding towards your partner, who was still franticly trying to escape his predicament. Back then, your parents had used you to help this puppet become more human. They wanted to teach him how to interact with others, so they searched for someone who had approximately the same age of mind as him after he was created. You were just another tool, but you did like him as a friend back then and were sad to leave. The Shogun declared him as failed, and so did everyone else. Only when your parents confronted you with all this much later in life did you realize how cruel it had been. If he survived all this time and was now extracting his vendetta against the people that abandoned him, then it shouldn't be your partner suffering over there.

"Please!" you added remorsefully, realizing the mistake that had been made even though you could hardly be faulted for it if you were honest. The research team created something and then left it to die. Maybe they did deserve this. But you and your partner were wholly unrelated, and yet, you thought better you than him. A small drop of guilt festered inside of you as well as you recalled the story. However, Kunikuzushi - as his name was - only frowned, wiping away the tears from your eyes over and over until you felt the sting or irritated skin under his fingers. "I didn't... We just... There were orders--"

"Orders?" he mocked, brows raising unbelievingly. "Oh, you mean when you just left me and never came back? You were just following orders, yeah?"

Nodding slowly, a knot formed in your stomach as his voice kept jumping from happy-go-lucky to accusatory. "We'll talk about this, don't worry, but that's not why you two are here. Are you sure you don't know what you were doing? I'll give you a hint:"

Puckering his lips, his hands squeezed your face together. Leaning forward, Kunikuzushi pressed his mouth to yours, residing there for a while as he enjoyed the warm sensation of yours. His body inched closer, yearning for the very same warmth and climbing on your lap, his fingers digging into you painfully as he tried to keep his balance.

Was this his way of making you remember the time you spent with your partner? Kuni was clumsy in his attempts to replicate this intimate gesture. Desperate, greedy—you could feel all these emotions coming through as well as the jealousy, and you began wondering how long he had been watching you. After you left, did he go out of his way to find you? Why you? Why now?

Even though he caught you off-guard with this gesture, you got a grip on yourself, eventually nudging and pulling away from him, turning your face away, ashamed and disgusted. You still saw him as the friend you once had, and your love was just across the room watching. Kuni had been insecure but curious, crying every now and then. But he certainly had changed from the sweet being he once was. It showed in the way he was treating you, how he spoke and acted. Giving him free will had been the Shogun's blessing, and you agreed with the Shogun's choice as you learned the story. Then again, by that time, you already believed him to be dead. You couldn't imagine an artificial being that acted like he did back then, to survive alone out in the world you were living in. Maybe if you could have stuck around back then and continued to be by his side, he would have turned out differently?

"What do you want?" you whispered, desperate for answers, as he pouted on your lap after your rejection.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" he sulked, making him almost seem like an ordinary boy again. Oh, how wrong you were.

His eyes snapping back to you, he gave you a big grin, leaning in close again with his arms wrapping around your neck. "I want you."

"I... We..." you sputtered. The uncomfortableness and awkwardness must have shown in your expression as you tried to avoid his gaze, turning your head side to side. However, the puppet caught you, forcing you to look ahead again with a firm grip. "Do you really think you have the choice to argue with me here?"

For a moment, you could only stare at him. Your thoughts were racing as you tried to think of a way to turn this scenario around, the situation only growing in madness by the second. But then, his lips curled into a smile again, and he let go, happily sighing into your shoulder.

"You're good with orders, right? Would you follow my orders, too?"

Even though your gut told you not to answer this lightly, you caved in. If those were Kunikuzushi's demands, and it would give you a chance to save your lover, then there was no thinking needed at all. "I will. So, please--"

"Really?" he piped up, jumping on your lap excitedly and interrupting your attempt to reason with him, shutting you down. "So if I tell you to love me, you will? Love me, love me, love me! Show me! Tell me! Only me!"

Gulping, you blinked a few times, hesitantly leaning forward to kiss his cheek. Kunikuzushi melted into your affection, fingers dancing over your shoulders excitedly as you faked returning his feelings. Whatever you had to do to satisfy him, you would, and perhaps, deep down, you'd remind him of the kind nature he was created with.

"I told you to say it," he reminded you nicely but impatiently.

"I-I love you. I always thought about you after I left."

The last part wasn't as much of a lie as it might have should been. It wasn't easy to move on after spending day after day by his side, and in your childish nativity, you had gotten way too attached to him for the good of either of you. It had been your task to feed and talk to Kuni, keep him engaged and entertained and you might have brought him candy here or read a book to him there on top of your routine. You really thought you did something nice for him, but how grave your mistake was only revealed itself now.

Chuckling, he at least appeared satisfied, his expression almost as gentle as you remembered again. But it immediately snapped back to a mocking grin as he looked down on you, drawing with his fingers over your lips and down your chin. "You'll have to say it a lot more times if you want me to actually believe it. Think you can do it before my workers cut open your dearest stomach and take out what's inside one by one?"

"I can!" you immediately yelled in panic. You thought yourself to be save by just complying, but it was the bitter truth you had to learn that you weren't dealing with a clueless doll anymore. "I can! I-I will! I'll tell you as many times as you like, just... please..."

Glancing past him, you looked into the horrified eyes of your partner, who had to witness all of this first hand. He was silent now, but you felt his pain as if it was your own. "Spare him, and I'll do whatever you want," you whispered, feeling the crushing weight of selling yourself out to this person who treated you and the man who meant the most to you, like dirt under his shoes, playing with you and stomping you into the ground inch by inch as he flaunted his power over you.

"You'll obey me...?" he questioned once more, and you focused back on him, nodding. With the last bit of strength, you could collect inside of you, you tried to look confident, hoping he'd buy that at least. Anything, you kept telling yourself. Anything to save both of you.

"Then you're mine now," he mused, gripping your throat and squeezing as if you were a toy. "Don't forget that. You can't even look at anyone else, or I'll take your eyes out, understand?"

"Yes," you whimpered, desperate to keep looking at him now, barely allowing yourself to blink even.

"Yes, what?"

Your whole body was revolting as you pushed out the words you assumed he wanted to hear. It felt wrong and like you were shoveling your own grave, but he had been right: You didn't have a choice.

"Yes... Sir?"

Humming amused, Kunikuzushi gave you a knowing smile before climbing off your lap. Two of his henchman turned away from the table and walked over to you as he ordered them, "To my room."

Unceremoniously, you were picked up and carried backwards out of the room, unable to keep yourself from glancing at your partner for one last time. The hallway was dark and cramped, dusty as if the building wasn't occupied until recently. Part of you began to feel relief that your negotiations worked out, even though you didn't know yet what it really meant for you.

"We're finally together again," Kuni sighed, walking behind you so he could face you with an almost gentle smile. "I couldn't stand that other guy leeching off of you for another second, you know? And you'll forget him soon enough as well."

As if they timed it, a scream rang out through the building as Kuni finished his sentence, a wide grin creeping over his face, and a cold shudder ran down your spine.

"I'll make sure you never leave me again."

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

I have this brainrot of Scara's darling being abducted and when he hears news of it, he immediately goes to where his intel said that you were held captive at, only to be met with you standing there, the expensive parasol he bought you at your hand and is that blood on your kimono?

Since darling has to take his horrendous etiquette lessons, he probably had to also teach you how to gracefully make use of parasols (whether it's to actually shield you from the sun when you walk the gardens or hide your identity when he oh so graciously allows you to go outside his estate, you'll never know.) Darling would think that those classes are useless, but the lessons oddly came to their help when they needed it. How she was able to retrieve her parasol from the abductors is simple. If deceiving Scara is the hardest thing she had to think about, then petty kidnappers are bound to be child's play. Beating them up with a mere parasol is also easy, having to deal with Scaramouche daily takes a shit ton of emotional control and hey, you're kinda doing them the favor of avoiding his wrath by beating them up yourself (or so you think, the dungeon lingers with static electricity the next day sadly.)

Scaramouche probably reprimands you from using a parasol since then, in an effort to keep you under his control too. Lucky you then, that's one less etiquette rule to keep up with. (Sorry if this is all over the place since I honestly enjoy the thought of his darling carrying around a parasol ASKDLFGSJKD)

OMG YOU'RE ONTO SOMETHING... who needs a sword when you've got a parasol? the parasols in your possession are the real deal too, nothing is cheap about how they were made since it was a gift from scaramouche to you. he doesn't settle for anything less than perfection. he never considered the possibility of you using it as a weapon — but the juxtaposition of your gentle demeanor paired with bloodshed just does something to him. he sees a lot of himself in you (ha!). pretending to be fair and demure, only for their to be ruthlessness hidden beneath the surface.

maybe gets a bit lovestruck in that moment, who knows. he certainly won't admit it.

shoutout to whatever poor shmuck orchestrated the entire kidnapping event... they definitely had to have been given bad info. some guy said that this estate was just an inazuman diplomat and his spouse, an easy hit. turns out that inazuman diplomat was number sixth of the eleven fatui harbingers. a bad day overall for them.

for scara "am i bothering you, my lord? i just felt really lonely..." 🙏

notes: yandere, afab reader, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome

There’s a hand on your head before you know it. A firm presence that strokes, calming and possessive. You don’t have to look up from your position on the floor, carefully kneeling on a cushion next to his seat, to know what expression is is on his face. Possessive and pleased. A smile, though not exactly a nice one, even on his better days. 

You lean into his touch and shift on the cushion, hoping to get more comfortable. If he hasn’t kicked you out already, it means he’s in a good enough mood. You might be able to coax him into a walk in the gardens later, if you play your cards right. 

And you do so want to play your cards right with your husband. 

You don’t know when exactly everything began to shift. When you stopped feeling like your stomach was constantly empty, being twisted and pulled in every direction. When your everyday activities morphed from anxiety-inducing expectations into simple habits. 

When you stopped feeling like a captive and started feeling like a wife. 

Was it when you felt ill, and he deigned to stay by you through the worst of it? Spooning broth into your mouth and wiping your face with cool, amp rags? A soft, affectionate move that had caught you by surprise. The gestures had seemed foreign on his face, and you wondered for ages whether or not one of your ladies or perhaps a servant had suggested it to him.

Was it when he offhandedly confessed that the thought of entertaining a particular traveling noble made him want to electrify his own eyes out, and the pair of you conspired to get the man drunk--and thus, off to bed and out of his hair--as quickly as possible? It was childish, silly even. You poured cup after cup and Scaramouche said nothing as his guest became absolutely sloshed. That night you even laughed about it together, snickering, warm under the covers of your shared bed.

Little moments, bit by bit, that paved over the reality of your situation and gave it something more palatable in your mind. Something you could work with and live with, possibly even enjoy. 

And if you no longer shy away from his hands, if you call him husband without a bitter taste on your lips, if you do your best to keep him pleased and reap the results... can you be blamed? 

You know it’s wrong. Deep down. You’re not stupid. 

If you think about your situation for too long, you know what you’ll find. Underneath the layers of crafted moments, the shiny veneer that you’ve painted onto your heart. 

You’ll find a different you that wants to positively scream and fight at every turn. A different you that wants to throw up at the thought of being around Scaramouche willingly, one that would never initiate affection... much less crave it from his hands. A different you that bore his punishments, his stings and shocks, grinding your teeth to avoid giving him the satisfaction of audible pain. 

But you can’t live like that forever. You tried. You tried for as long as you could, rebelling against him, rebelling against the life he’d forced you into. You were tired of being pushed down, mentally and physically. Tired of being sad. Tired of feeling like you’d never escape.

So now? You don’t want to escape. 

Now you want him to touch you, to praise you. To shower you with gifts, though he still holds them over your head if he finds you’re being too needy. What do you need to see your family for, when he’s just gifted you an expansion to the gardens or a much-coveted visit to a local festival? 

Now you want to peel back the layers of Scaramouche, taking them off like marital robes, until you reach the Kunikuzushi underneath. Imperfect and clay-like. Unfinished. You want to see what makes him work and makes him stall and fill the gaps in him with something of yourself.

“My wife is lonely,” he murmurs, and his fingers still in your hair. “I’ll have to rectify that, won’t I?” 

You look up, finally, and your stomach doesn’t twist at the sight of his lidded eyes gazing down at you. Instead, your heart feels lighter and you reach up with your own fingers to intertwine them in his.

“But you already have.” 

Title: Protectorate.

Pairing: Yandere!Scaramouche x Reader (Genshin Impact).

Word Count: 2.2k.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Implied Kidnapping, Implied Death/Violence, Blood, Controlling Behavior.

The first time you met Kunikuzushi, there was an arrow embedded in his left shoulder, and he was covered in his own blood.

It took you most of the day to carry him home, his small form draped across your back, his eyes open, but glazed over, too unfocused to be any sign of meaningful consciousness. The sun had set, by the time you reached your little farmhouse, and you deposited him in the decrypt barn before approaching the door. You didn’t reach for the knob, or knock, just pressing your ear to the wood, holding your breath as you listened. You head footsteps, the muffled sound of someone idly strumming a shamisen, and you sighed, giving yourself another moment of quiet reprieve before slipping inside, grabbing the cloth sack you kept in your bedroom and making your escape.

You’d rather spend the night listening to your father’s music, or sitting in front of the hearth as your brother read out the ancient legends and poems he’d always been so sickeningly fond of, but that was for another time. You had to be thankful that no one would bother you, tonight.

By the time you returned to the barn, Kunikuzushi was wake, sitting up and struggling with the shaft of the arrow. Without thinking, you rushed to his side, prying his hands away from the weapon and forcing them against the sheet he was lying on. “Please,” You started, before he could think to struggle against you. “If the head breaks off, I might not be able to get it out. I won’t be able to help you.”

You expected him to argue, to glare, but he only stared up at you, his dark eyes still wide, still bleary. Like a child, being scolded for the first time. “I don’t…” His voice was shaking, unsteady. He probably needed water, and a decent meal. You couldn't be sure how long it'd been since he last had something to drink. “It hurts. I want to get it out.”

“I can help with that.” He was bleeding, again, but you tried not to show your concern, smiling and squeezing his hands. “If you’re willing to let me.”

It took a few seconds, a few nervous glances towards his tattered robes, but eventually, he nodded, just starting to relax. You let go of him, hesitantly, and started to work.

“Do you know who did this to you?” You asked, tearing away the fabric that surrounded the injury. The arrowhead was completely embedded, more so than any self-inflicted wound or stray shot could’ve been, and his breath hitched as you took the arrow by the shaft, breaking it into two pieces as carefully as you could and discarding the second half. You felt him shift, trying to see what you were doing, but you caught his chin before he could, forcing him to stare straight ahead. You should’ve done this earlier, in the woods, while he was still unconscious. “I’ve treated a few hunters, but I’ve never seen anything this… thorough. Go and get yourself into trouble with the wrong people, stranger?”

You fished your scalpel out of your bag, wrapped in its own piece of burlap. He must’ve tried to remove it before you found him, judging by the amount of torn skin around the injury, how difficult it was to decipher where the arrow had first made contact. You tried to be precise, to only cut away what you were sure you had to cut away, but your incision could only be so small, so shallow, and Kunikuzushi still winced, dropping his gaze to his lap, hesitating before he answered. “I think it was one of my friends.”

You paused. “Your friends?”

“I mean, they weren’t trying to hurt me.” At least he was distracted, too preoccupied with himself and what he was saying to notice you putting down your scalpel. The pliers were next, crude but accurate, just barely small enough to latch onto the base of the arrowhead, where iron met the wood. “They were trying to help me. They said it would make me stronger, and if I’m stronger I can—”

You pulled, and Kunikuzushi’s words died into a low, terrible groan. You fished out your bandages, taking up what you could and pressing against his injury to stop the now-steady bleeding. You should’ve left to fetch fresh water, at that point, or gotten something to clean him up with, but his hand clasped over yours, keeping you in place with a grip stronger than you’d expected it to be. “They were trying to make me stronger. They said this would make me stronger.”

You brought your free hand to his other shoulder, rubbing gently. “I believe you,” You said, slowly, trying not to startle him. “I’m just trying to make sure they don’t kill you, in the process.”

He hadn’t been smiling, but his frown deepened. His grip loosened, though, his hand eventually sliding under yours, taking the clump of bandage, and you were allowed to stand up. You moved to brush yourself off, but thought better of it, curling your fingers into your palms as you turned away from him, starting towards the barn’s entrance. “I’ll get you some water, and something to eat. We don’t have much, but it’ll fill your stomach. My brother should have something you can wear, too.” You glanced over your shoulder, watching as he settled into place, pulling his knees into his chest and attempting to lift his left arm, only to drop it back to his side almost immediately. “You’re going to have to rest for a few days. It’s not a shallow wound, and it looks like you lost a lot of blood. It’s going to take some time before you’re able to use that arm, again.”

“I heal quickly,” He said, quickly, but he sounded unsure. “I don’t need anything, either. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Let me be selfish, then. I brought you here, so you’re my responsibility, which means taking care of you is also my responsibility.” You’d never closed the heavy, sliding door, but you lingered in the doorway, giving him time to relax. Giving him time to start to trust that you were coming back. “And that means I have to see it through, right?”

He didn’t answer, not immediately, not until the tension in his shoulders began to fade, a fraction of his rigidity breaking into something else, something softer.

His response came a second later, breathy and mumbled, but no less gratifying for its delay.

“Right.”

~

The tenth time Kunikuzushi visited, he brought a man you didn’t know and tea imported from Liyue. He let himself into your farmhouse, and his friend waited outside.

His robes, thin and formless and dully colored, were gone, by now, replaced with rich silks, golden ornaments, veils made with such a fine material, you were forced to occasionally wonder how much you would be able to get for a length of it at the marketplace. He held himself differently, with more confidence than you’d ever thought him capable of, and while you wanted to be happy for him, you couldn’t help but miss the Kunikuzushi who used to follow after you for hours on end, staring up at you with those big, dark eyes and offering to lend you another pair of hands despite the fact that you both knew he had no talent for housekeeping. Despite the fact that you would've been just as happy with his company as you were with his help.

He didn’t follow you, anymore, and his pride was no longer such a small thing as to accommodate household chores. He watched you from your small table, instead, as you boiled water and brewed his newest gift, placing a clay mug in front of him when you were done. You held your own as you sat down, eager to keep your hands on its warm surface. The days were growing cold, and there was only so much wood you could justify wasting on yourself. You’d have to wait until the rest of your family returned before you could light the hearth.

Kunikuzushi waited for you to start. His pride was no small thing, and his patience had grown to adjust to it. “You cut your hair.”

“It was the only practical decision.” As eager to talk as ever, despite his hesitation. “Electo if volatile. If there’s anything flammable nearby, it’s bound to—”

“No, I mean you cut your hair. Without a mirror, from what I can see.” You bent over the tabletop, idly toying with a portion of his fringe, nearly an inch shorter than its twin on the opposite side. “What happened? It looks like someone took a pair of shears to your head, and you let them.”

He batted your hand away, but it was a half-hearted dismissal. He was smiling, and he made no attempt to hide it. “I’m leaving for Snezhnaya, soon. By the time I visit again, it should be long enough for you to cut yourself, to your satisfaction.”

You tried to smile back, but it faltered quickly, and you but your mug to your lips, instead. “You might have to come and find me on the mainland, by then.”

His expression dropped. “What do you mean?”

“It’s really nothing,” You assured, forcing yourself to let out an airy laugh before you went on. “He’s a merchant, and he just starting doing business on our island, and he’s… You have to understand, Kuni’, he’s so wealthy, and when he offered to marry me, I couldn't—”

“You’re betrothed.”

You pushed your shoulders forward, shrinking into yourself. “I am.”

“Why?” He slammed his palms against the table, rattling the mugs. You managed to steady your own, but his toppled over, spilling tea over the wood and onto the floor. He didn’t seem to notice, but you cringed, knowing you’d have to clean it up later on. “I can give you mora, gold, whatever you need. You don’t have to run off with some bastard behind my back and—”

“I need more than mora. There are healers on the mainland, real healers. People who can do more than gather herbs and… I don’t know, carve out arrowheads.” Another laugh, this one sardonic, exhausted. “You know my father needs care. His sight is getting worse, and his health is failing, but he keeps taking work, and neither I nor my brother can convince him to stop. He needs more care than I can give him. My brother will finally be able to attend an actual academy, too. This isn’t something I can walk away from.”

He was standing, now, lording over you. “And that’s worth whoring yourself out to a man you don’t even know?”

“I do know him. He introduced himself while he was on our island, and we’ve been exchanging letters.” Anxiously, you began to play with the hem of your sleeve, but stopped yourself quickly, pulling your hands into your lap, instead. “He’s a kind man. I don’t love him, but he’s prepared to take my family in, and—”

“Damn your family, this isn’t about them. I want to know why you think you can just leave me—”

“Get out.”

Kunikuzushi blinked. “What makes you think—”

“I’m getting married, Kuni, by my own volition. I have no interest in listening to you question my choices or insult my family. We don't have enough food. We don't have enough wood. If I turn down this offer, I'll be responsible when my family finally freezes to—” You looked away. “Just get out. I don't want to have to ask you again.”

He looked like he was going to say something, for a second.

Then, he turned on his heel, and left your farmhouse entirely. You could hear him say something to his friend, but you couldn’t make out the words. You didn’t really try to.

You allowed yourself one deep, long breath, forced yourself to stand, and went back to your chores, praying your wedding day would come soon.

~

On his next and final visit, Kunikuzushi arrived while you were at the marketplace, while your father was at home and your brother was tending to him. By the time you returned, smoke was heavy in the air, and there was no sound save for the crackle of the fire and the idle chatter of the friends he’d brought to light it.

The farmhouse was already engulfed, by the time you reached the clearing, smoke already billowing from the windows, the ramshackle roof already burnt-through and buckled in. You should’ve hidden, or ran, or done anything but drop your belongings at the edge of the forest and make a desperate sprint for the charred door, but you couldn’t think, and you couldn’t stop trying, even after he caught you, even after your frantic struggling drew the attention of his guards, his soldiers, soon leaving their makeshift posts to gather around Kunikuzushi, to watch as you clawed at the arms around your waist and shoved at his chest and screamed, cursing his name and calling out for your brother and sobbing until your voice grew too hoarse to do even that.

After your sobs had died down into pathetic cries and your cries had faded into whimpers – only then did one of his soldiers speak, the words stifled by their silver mask. “Is this the commoner, Lord Scaramouche? Should we get the restraints?”

“No. In fact, you and the others can return to the estate. Your help is no longer needed.” He paused, and you felt his hold on you tighten, his lips brush against your shin as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “This is my errand. It’s my responsibility.”

You felt his smile, wider than you could ever remember it being, before.

“And that means I have to see it through, right?”

Kept Jewel

A request done for @vilithshaven and @that-one-lilith <3 this was supposed to be out last night because i put it in queue but then later forgot to put it back there after editing it some fkjejjre

Fyi this is NOT sagau!!

Warnings: yandere content, minor character death of someone who's only there for two seconds, reader is implied afab and uses she/her pronouns, kidnapping and imprisonment.

For as long as you remember, your world had been full of vibrant, bright colors. The grass had always been green and the sky blue and the sun a glowy yellow and thus you had never suspected that it was rather unusual for someone so young to have already met their soulmate— that was because you didn't know about soulmates and the little connection between meeting their eyes for the same time, the world finally blooming in color for the two half-souls that had been separated long before their creation.

You had been an orphan, placed under the tender care of the elders of Higi Village. When you heard the tales they told, you merely assumed they were just that— fairy tales meant to brighten up the children's days and to give them a new game of pretending they could not see colors, using whatever words they could use to describe something without mentioning its color. 

Higi Village, before the curse of Tatarigami completely spread through the land and polluted everything in its wake, before the Vision Hunt Decree and the Sakuko Decree, had been happy to accept visitors and outlanders, often showing them the wonderful sights and the mines and all the cute little trinkets handmade from the ores. 

One such visitor had been the strangest person you'd met— a beautiful boy with long, midnight blue hair, eyes as purple as the Shogun's lightning and Electro yet he'd been so sweet and gentle you had felt ashamed of thinking of him like that. Kunikuzushi, he'd introduced himself, his smile making his eyes crinkle just the slightest bit. A wandering vagrant. 

He has entertaining tales to tell, little superstitions and stories from the rest of his travels and so in return you tell him of your own stories, laughing under your breath when you talk about soulmates and colors. Why wouldn't you? Color has always been visible in your life as far as you were aware, and thus that was more than enough proof for you that soulmates simply did not exist. 

Foolish, young and naive you remains unaware of the bright gleam in his eyes. 

He leaves, eventually. He is a vagrant and a traveller after all, and still has many places to see. He is not the first visitor to grace Higi Village nor is he the last, and so you forget him just as you have eventually forgotten all other visitors. 

But he has not forgotten you. 

He is unable to forget you, the one person who does not know about their soulmate's existence. The one who does not know about soulmates at all. 

That was more than alright for Kunikuzushi or as he goes by now, Scaramouche. You were his; you were clearly meant for him alone— he who has no soulmate, for he is a puppet more than a human and not even the archons can dictate which souls belong to one another, but Scaramouche knows that you and him are meant to be together for how else could you remain so oblivious to the truth if not for the threads tying you two so intricately? If you were meant for whoever had let you see, then they obviously weren't important enough if you have not met them ever again. 

You are his. So he returns to Higi Village, and at what an opportune time, too! The Tatarigami has truly and well stripped the island of all its previous glory, and all the Shogun and her little military had done was create a furnace to harness it, rather than ridding the island of it. All of it means he is right to come for you; he will take you away from this barren island to somewhere safe and secure, where only he may have have access to you—

He finds you amidst his musings, asleep and curled under the shade of a wilting sakura tree. A meagre shelter against the battering rain and the lightning striking the sky in a maelstrom of color, but shelter nonetheless. 

They've kicked you out just as I payed them to. Wonderful. 

He picks you up— and oh, you aren't asleep, but rather passed out. Your body is sweating and heated, and now that he is close enough he could hear how nasally your breath was. You are sick, he realizes with a chuckle. All the better for him, really. With you sick and weak and so clearly starved, it will be easy for him to convince you to stay with him.

And so he took you, sick and weak and vulnerable, back to a place he'd created solely for the two of you. You will be safe here, where nobody but him will ever interact with you; where your soulmate will never find you; where you are far too grateful to have a stable roof over your head and a warm meal three times a day to complain about Kunikuzushi being strangely affectionate with you. 

It makes something cold and uncomfortable curl in your stomach when he holds you, someone practically a stranger to you yet he adores you as though you've known him for centuries. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't eventually forgotten Kunikuzushi in the sea of visitors of Higi Village, but it appears that he has not forgotten you— each night you find yourself in his arms despite how uncomfortable you are, listening to his awful whispers of how he'll keep you by his side for all eternity, of how beautiful you look and how you belong to him.

But it is either this or being left to fend for yourself on an island that is no longer suitable for living and that has kicked you out— you both know this, and so you bite down on your tongue and let him be as affectionate and controlling with you as he wants even if it feels stifling and scary at times.

Scaramouche is not fond of leaving you alone in the mansion, but sometimes needs must. Sure he can order any of the maids that have strict instructions not to ever show their face to interact with you, but he does not yet trust you and them enough not to try and pull some stunt to escape, despite how well-behaved you are and how you're slowly starting to lean into his touches, smiling just a bit and no longer always asking to go outside.

He's sure you'd be horrified if you realized you've come to like your kidnapper caretaker's company, so he doesn't bring it up but nonetheless it still makes him quite smug and all the more convinced of his beliefs. 

He wants your every second of wakefulness and otherwise, he wants your attention and your focus and everything that you have to give and everything that he has to take— these are all reasons why he hates leaving you, but he's still a Harbinger and he has duties to fulfil for her Imperial Majesty the Tsaritsa of Zapolyarny Palace, and among those duties is pest control. 

Certain agents have less loyalty than they should, and some of them often try to do a funny little thing where they sell information to other groups in and outside of the nation of everlasting winter. These agents need to be put down, so to speak, and Scaramouche is here just to do so and then return back to you, his dear unknowing wife.

The Fatui have long since marked out the location of their little hideout, so Scaramouche does not need dally by searching around before he and some of his own men are already tearing it apart, the little traitors soon captured and presented to him. 

He orders the rest, save for their Inazuman leader, to be killed. Let him see what will be his fate as well, he thinks with a nasty chuckle. 

Scaramouche is thinking of you even here— he hopes you haven't gotten bored of all the books he's left for you, or perhaps you're now doing some embroidery? Hmm, while he can't have you speaking with others that doesn't mean he can't give you a little pet to spend your days with— 

Scaramouche doesn’t give the leader a chance to beg for mercy before his Electro has surged through his hands and catalyst. The sooner he kills this little pest, the sooner he can get you back in his arms. 

He expects many things for his return— he does not expect to find you crying and panicking, pacing in circles in your lavish bedroom. Upon seeing him, he is further surprised by you throwing your arms around him and sobbing. 

"Beloved, what's wrong? Has anybody hurt you?-" 

"Kuni, I- I can't see colors anymore, I can't what color is the sky or- or what color your eyes are, everything's black and white," your voice shakes and trembles with your cries. "Why can't I- why can't I see?" 

Scaramouche's mind is reeling with just how good this opportunity is. Your soulmate is dead, and now you can truly, fully belong to him. 

He pulls you even closer, making soft shushing noises and caressing your hair. "I don't know, darling," he lies as easily as breathing— even easier, as he doesn't really need to do the latter to live. "Calm down, my beloved, I'll try to search for a cure and an answer. But for now, stay with me?" 

You are still crying, but that's alright: Scaramouche gathers you in his arms and pretends expertly as though he's as confused and worried as you are when in truth he's quite happy about this new development. 

"Oh my darling wife, it's alright, I have you now," he keeps murmuring to you, smug in the way you don't protest but nod your head. Oh dear, it truly is bothering you huh? "You belong to me, I'll keep you safe and sound, my love. Only stay good for me. . ." 

He takes you to your bed, slow and steady to keep you from asking him to leave. He does not falter in telling you little "assurances", but if the way you keep yourself so unusually close to his side then he knows that you find comfort in his presence and his words. 

Mine. He thinks with delight at feeling you still crying yet keeping your arms around him, so desperate for his comfort and who is he to deny his lovely wife anything her heart wants? 

You're my soulmate. 

Deluge. Yan Scaramouche x F Reader

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, pregnancy mentions and not SFW themes. Word count: 3.5k.

The strum of a koto beneath your fingertips fills the atmosphere with a serene serenade.

Each deliberate pluck and twang resonates throughout the lonely courtyard as if it were a theatre with you upon the stage, performing to an absent audience. The ballad you lace together blends into the billowing breeze. Over the looming eaves, through the barren tree branches, and into clouds weighed down by future precipitation.

You’d like to think your playing will become one with the atmosphere, traveling further than you ever could. That with each raindrop, if one were to listen close enough, they’d hear the string’s gentle vibrato and be compelled to search for you. All you’d need to do is wait patiently and continue strumming your koto, guiding them to you with various melodies. They’d be strong, noble of heart, and selfless in their endeavors to free you from your picturesque prison. What a perfect, idyllic ending that’d make — just like the fairytales you read growing up where the princess is rescued by her prince.

Keep reading

SCARAMOUCHE; TINTINNABULUM

notes: yandere, minor character death, brief torture mention, implied kidnapping, violence, gn reader.

word count: 3.3k

Those swinging bells did not sound sweet nor charming. The melodic chime seemed quite out of tune to your ears. A jingling that once signified holidays and the bouncing steps of an approaching cat now came to you as an ill-fated omen. A sign that your clock was running out of time.

Bell peals danced in your head like a ballerina with a broken ankle. Shoulders tensing, the sound rang chaotic, each jingle was a hammer strike to your head, reverberating in your skull. If you didn’t have a migraine already, you surely had one now. Off-beat, no longer the sound of gentle shaking but the ring-ding-ding-ding-ding that came with an axe’s heavy swing, the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching.

The sound of the realization you really were getting away.

Tentatively, you look behind you.

Keep reading

“Divine Prayers”

(Yandere??? IDK about this really) Scaramouche x reader

A/N: Finally, I’m having Scaramouche brainrots after giving other anime men the majority of my attention. This one is a concept post, formatted similar to this Albedo one. I added a vocabulary section at the end as well!

SORRY FOR NOT DOING MY EVENT REQS I WILL EVENTUALLY

Content warning: Stalking, light religious themes(?), general yandere content(just to be safe, it's pretty mild)

This is not healthy love and is meant to make you uncomfortable.

Scaramouche can never fathom liking, much less loving, anything/anyone related to that woman. Even his delicate, deceitful appearance that granted the little man many advantages is no exception.

Until one seemingly ordinary sunny day, he laid eyes on you by accident, when you were waiting outside a shop in Narukami city. Naturally, it happened when he had to watch over some incompetent subordinates and show them the way of this land.

A shrine maiden. Or, if one wishes to use Inazuma’s local terms, a miko. No other group in Inazuma would wear that distinctive combination of red hakama and white kosode(1) .

You are everything that he is not.

Sheltered and naive, that much the Harbinger can tell from how you carry yourself. Always studying your surroundings with curiosity while keeping a light smile upon those lips, typical behaviour of people who were raised within the confine of four safe walls.

Pitiful thing, he bet you never know how to haggle(2),nor do you have the need to. People like you are often born with silver spoons and grew up thinking there is nothing wrong with worshipping the ground your archon walks on.

You have no idea what despicable, malicious deeds your beloved Electro Archon has done behind her believer’s back.

People like you disgust him, as the way things should be. Yet, somehow that hatred has been blended by some other strange feeling.

It manifests in many forms, unfortunately.

Such as the frustration of not seeing you picking up the blooms from the best florist of Inazuma every week.

Or that urge to unleash his powers upon that mortal that has been taking up a little bit too much of your time and attention in the name of the business.

This feels...off, and out of his control. The balladeer is not a fan of uncertainty.

Had it been anyone else, Scaramouche would not have hesitated to steal you away for himself, at most the second time he felt the strange stir in his supposedly empty chest.

But not you. The “boy” might not fear the archon much, but he owes the pink kitsune lady a great deal. To many’s surprises, the cunning Harbinger is not someone who disregards favours. If you were to go missing, Yae would for sure notice and trace back to him.

So he is left with the only viable option: watching you from afar.

Scaramouche’s sentiments regarding your knowledge of his existence is...conflicted, to put it in simple terms. Obviously, you are none the wiser to his and his trusted underlings’ watchful gazes.

On one hand, as a morally good citizen, you naturally would not want to be associated with the Fatui bad guys. However, you got this enchanting power to make the Fatui Harbinger wonder: What would you think of him, if he were to present himself to you?

There you are again, feeding the foxes near the stairs of the grand shrine. You seem to be able to gain happiness from the smallest things, for example, a colourful bird or a believer thanking you for their good fortunes.

Leisure reading had let him know those mortal women would seek the approval of their mothers-in-law to make sure their marriages are successful.

If...things are different, she would have liked you enough to-

No, since when did these ridiculous concepts appeal to him? It is not like he ever cares for his "mother dearest"'s opinion on anything.

Looks like a negotiation meeting with Yae Miko is in order. Maybe he would get that item for her so he can finally have you without worries.

(1)

red hakama(noun): long trouser-like skirt tied with a bow

white kosode(noun): kimono robe

(2)

Haggle(verb):dispute or bargain persistently, especially over the cost of something.

Honorable Or Not(Scaramouche)

Summary: You are a nuisance to Scaramouche’s mission objective, and he loathes people like you. However, he does not plan to end your life right away.

A/N: Some scara being awful!! This idea has been on mind a while back but then JJK brainrot happened. I love the power trippling trope too much smh

Content warning: Gender-neutral reader,violence, corruption kink, unedited, plot twist ending

People like you makes Scaramouche feel sick.

Always so cheerful and enthusiastic, ready to help others at the blink of an eye, and that smile.

Those qualities stirred something in him.

The sentiment is well above and beyond normal irritation, and he cannot quite put a label on it yet.

However, Scaramouche can at least be certain of one thing. He wants to see that sweet façade of yours break. A captain of the knights of Favonius. Who came from a modest middle-class family and landed on a commanding position by nothing but your own merits? The ultimate embodiment of chivalry? Diligent, skilled and that readiness to help the weak.

You pose a major threat to his current mission.

All captains of Favonis do, to be frank. But he finds you so much more irritating compare to that shady looking calvary captain, or that pathetic exucse of a Lawerance.

Scaramouche does not plan to kill you unless the situation calls for it, however. He wants to break you first instead.

Your privileged origins never gave you any opportunities, to wonder on the other side.

What are you, under all those layers of righteous ideals?

Where would you be without that long list of morals and principles?

Oh, how Scaramouche takes joy in seeing, those laughable confident faces distorted with fear! Those used to look down on him as if he is lower then dust, groveling at his feet, begging for his mercy.

With that eagerness to please others, the Harbinger thought you would be quite gullible.

He was proven right when one of his underlings lured you out of town alone, by just claiming to be needing some help with broken carriages. How easy, too easy perhaps.

How you manage to pull yourself up after being subjected to his electroshock is extraordinary. As expected from a high-ranking knight of Favonis, Scaramouche scoofs. But he still got you in his camp, far away from the city of the wind. Better do your best to entertain him, during your stay here.

So you can imagine the shock the little man feels, when you draw your sword at him as if nothing has happened. The way you put down his men is impressive even to the sixth of the Fatui Harbingers.

An electro vision...how did he missed that? Of course you are more resistant to shocks if you have that little gem, it was foolish of him.

You are one of that woman’s chosen...

That smile on your lips.

It is not those warm, daily ones you wear around town. Nor it is one of those encouraging ones you show to your subordinates. Sinister is one way to describe it.

“What kind of fool do you take me for?” Furrowing your brow at blood stains on your armor? Do you know who you are dealing with here?

So, this is what you hide under that jovial demeanor. A cruel beast, with little regard to human lives you deem unworthy.

“Two can play this game, Master Harbinger. I believe the acting Grand master would be pleased to hear I captured a Fatui officier alive.”

This is way more interesting than Scaramouche had ever imagined.

But you know how the saying goes. It's no fun if you do not resist a little.

Eternal Companion~

TW: Spoilers for Inazuma arc (minor) and Yandere themes

Scaramouche tried hard to abandon his past even going so far as to throw his old name away to take up arms against the very archon who created him, yet despite his efforts, he always felt like an outsider. That was until he met you, another one of Baal's 'failed' attempts at creating a puppet to serve as Inazuma's guiding hand yet unlike him you seemingly felt nothing but gratitude to your creator even becoming a shrine maiden who constantly sung nothing but her praises. Everything about you disgusted him.

Despite this, he felt somewhat of an obligation to make you realise the error of your ways and so he began to investigate your further even going as far as to befriend you.

It initially began when he approached you at your shrine where you nearly electrocuted him, perceiving him to be another thief only interested in stealing the priceless relics you guarded. He merely laughed explaining he was only interested in learning more about the electro archon which you were more than happy to indulge.

Scaramouche found himself sicked in the way you idealised the archon who had abandoned you without a second thought. But the two of you began to grow closer spending the limited free time you had together under the beautiful thunder sakura trees near your temple and unbeknownst to him strange emotions began to bloom in his empty heart and soon he found himself unable to imagine a world without you in it. He just had to make you see things the way he did.

So he started implanting doubts into your mind often asking you questions that left you doubting your faith much to his excitement. He originally planned to take it slow until you came to see things his way.

But then one day as you two sat curled up under a blooming thunder sakura tree together a careless question fell from his lips. "Why do you remain loyal to her?" He asks feeling you pause, your fingers no longer running through his hair as you ponder a response to his rather abrupt question. "Well...isn't it normal to feel indebted to your creator in the same way children adore their parents," you reply your words chosen carefully in an attempt not to anger the man next to you. "Surely you realise that she threw you aside for her better creation." He argues turning to face you seeing your gaze harden at his words.

"She...had her reasons." You argue "Why do you continue to serve someone who never cared for anyone but herself?" He asks sensing your wavering faith as you shake your head with tears welling up in your eyes. "Shut up...stop talking Kuni, you don't understand anything!" You hiss angrily as Scaramouche laughs hearing your feeble arguments. "You're just as naive as the day you were created huh." He taunts only to jump out of the way seeing a powerful bolt of lightning striking where he once stood. "Leave this place Kuni." You whisper not meeting his eyes as electro energy continues to crackle in the air around you. "Alright, then I'll leave if that's what you want but don't come crying to me when you realise the truth." He laughs turning to leave as he feels your heated glare on his back. Seeing how you refused to listen to reason Scaramouche huffed departing from your beloved shrine while you watched him with indifference. He resolved to give up on you at the moment believing you to be nothing but a lost cause. Yet you continued to plague his mind as he continued preparations that would allow him to strike down his creator and steal her divine power in the same way she stole his all those centuries ago. He realised he couldn't allow you to escape him so easily. After all, you were going to be his for all eternity, whether you like it or not.

Then a few weeks later after everything in Inazuma came to a close, he sat in his cabin the door is thrown in open and you hurled at his feet bound and gagged with tears in your eyes. "Leave us!" He barked at his underlings who were more than happy to oblige, not wanting to face his notorious temper should they disobey and soon you two were left alone. "K-Kuni what's happening?" You whimper sitting up and Scaramouche smirks seeing the way the ropes bit into your delicate skin, it was sure to leave a nasty bruise but he'd deal with it later. "I must admit you're far more stubborn than I initially thought but no matter," He says gripping your jaw tightly forcing you to look into his grey eyes swirling with obsession. "I'm sure you'll start to see things my way soon enough~"

Deep Sea II. Yan Scaramouche x F Reader

>Rating: Mature. >Warnings: Mild yandere themes, amnesia, violence (not against Reader).  >Word count: 4.5k. >Deep Sea Index.

CHAPTER II // WROUGHT FROM THE SEABED 

Your earliest memories are not of collecting chirping crickets during the warm Inazuman summers, hearing ghost stories about trickster tanuki turned to stone in Chinju Forest, nor playing ohajiki late into the evening with the neighborhood children until your mom called you in for supper.

What you can remember, however, is painful enough that you sometimes wish you couldn’t.

Coarse sand rubbing your skin raw. Seawater filling your nostrils, your lungs, your soul. Ocean waves crashing down, manipulating your limp body to and fro as if it were a rag doll. Even when you were on solid ground, you had no energy to lift yourself. So you laid there and waited for whatever to claim you first — the ocean’s waves or death. You had no preference between the two. All you wished for was that whichever it’d be, it would come fast and be done with.

There is no fate worse than an eternal wait.

Keep reading

Deep Sea I. Yan Scaramouche x F Reader

>Rating: Mature. >Warnings: Mild yandere themes, amnesia (tags will continued to be updated as they apply).  >Word count: 4.4k. >Deep Sea Index.

CHAPTER I // SHIFTING TIDES

Blue is the loneliest color.

Take the sky, the sea; both are encompassing swaths of nothing, equal parts desolate and alluring. How could they ever hope to rival the fullness of land? Life cannot be sustained in the air above or the ocean below. There’d be nothing but sinking — sinking and returning to the ground where your feet may once again touch solid ground — or sinking further into the salty water’s depths.

Your memory of the past might be hazy, obscured by a thick fog that refuses to let up, but there’s one thing you can never forget; and that is your love for the ocean.

Keep reading

hello!! I love your writing, it feels so believable and in character ^^ if you're comfy writing for yan scaramouche, how about 7. "You're weak. You need me." with a traveller!reader who he convinces to join him during his inazuma cutscene?

(optional: he manipulates her with dubcon type stuff due to him noticing she visibly was drawn to him upon meeting him at reconciled stars?)

star light, star bright | yan scaramouche x reader

Writing in character is one of my biggest, so it's such a relief to hear your words! Also, what perfect timing for your prompt, anon! I’ve been wanting to write some yandere Scaramouche drabble but I didn’t really have any ideas. I took some liberties with your prompt (since I misread a little... oops), so I hope it’s still acceptable. I never played unreconciled stars, unfortunately…so I just watched the cutscenes. Also, I'm not very familiar with Scaramouche as a character yet, especially since there's still so much we don't know about him. Let’s hope I don’t make any egregious mistakes in his portrayal.

notes: traveller!reader doesn’t have a twin or anything, but is still stuck in teyvat, looking for a way to recover their wings to go back to their world.

content warning: yandere behaviour, strangulation. also scaramouche, because he is his own warning, the sadist.

word count: 1.2k

“See? I warned you to hold your temper,” Scaramouche sneers, leaning over your collapsed body on the factory floor. You try to push yourself up, nails digging into palms, but the miasma suppresses any energy you can muster. He clicks his tongues, as if scolding a child. “You should have listened. That pitiful friend of yours in the Resistance—is he truly worth all these emotions?”

The journey through Teyvat after being trapped in this strange world by the unknown god. The battles to restore peace, in hopes of answers from the seven Archons. All your efforts to get back your wings, for naught. All of it, only to end at the hands of this man.

Revenge. You have to stand up. Fight. For Teppei. But your body refuses. The angrier you become with your helplessness, with him, the more the world swirls into a cloud of indigo haze.

Never have you felt so sapped of strength—not even when you first awoke in this world after being sealed away. After your wings were stolen. You can’t move your arms or legs, but you can raise your head and glare. So you do. “You—!” Throat clogged with hatred, your voice is mere rasp. “If you’re going to kill me, be done with it.”

You brace yourself, but the Balladeer merely raises an eyebrow. “Kill you?” His jeering laughter echoes in your ears, a cycle of mockery that never ends. “Why would I do that, Traveller?”

You should have expected his cruelty. “Then what do you want from me, Harbinger?” you ask, defeated.

He kneels. Threads his hand in your hair. Violently pulls the strands back, dull pain pulsing on your scalp as hair threaten to tear from root, until you’re facing his sadistic smile. His touch is merciless. His words even more so.

“I find you rather interesting, Outlander. A visitor whose origin cannot be traced. On a journey from nowhere, to nowhere. All the secrets that must be hidden in your clever little mind…” With the other hand, he trails a finger down your neck. The edge of his nail presses ever so light, a knife in flesh. Lightness that could draw blood. “Why would I let such a fascinating little toy go to waste? I’m going to keep you.”

The back of your neck prickles from the hidden promise in his voice. You close your eyes, having no response for his unhinged words—

Only to immediately have your eyes fly open, an involuntary jolt as a lightning bolt sparks from his finger into the vulnerable skin of your throat. “I never said you can look away from me, Traveller,” you hear in the distance.

For a second, you see nothing but stars. So far yet so close. Home.

You would weep if you could.

He shakes his head as your shuddering finally passes, the world spinning back into indigo irises. “You have two choices,” he says mildly. As if anything about him was mild. “Either you walk out of this factory with me, willingly… Or.”

The second choice goes unsaid. Not that you needed to hear it. He clearly wasn’t entertaining any other option than the one he offered.

“Join you? Why would I ever join the Fatui?” you spit, vehemence laced in your words, if not your voice. “After all you did—”

He leans into your ear, grip on your hair tightening. You try not to wince. “The stars, Traveller.” The puff of warm air against sensitive skin sends chills down your spine.  

“The stars?” Madness. He is madness incarnate. If only you had the strength to wield your sword. If only you could resist. The memories of your first meeting seem so far. You wonder how you could have ever mistaken him for what he truly is. How you could have been fooled into thinking he was harmless.

The Fatui. The Fools. But I am the fool instead.

“I’m surprised you forgot. Remember what I told you, the last time we met? You were oh so interested.” His voice lowers to a dulcet croon. “The stars are a lie, Traveller. Do you recall now? I wonder if you understand.”

Home. You stare at him, eyes wide. You had begged him for answers, but it had been too late. He disappeared without a trace, leaving you lost and alone. Deep inside, you had been hoping you would meet him again. The knowledge he had... you longed for it. Longed to take to the skies, on real wings. Not wind gliders. Not imitation feathers.

Teppei, you remind yourself. But the anger has already begun bleeding out of your body. He has found your weakness. Punctured your resolve with the promise of knowledge. Promise of home.

Your hesitance does not go unnoticed.

“How the hero has fallen,” Scaramouche murmurs. “You’re so weak now.” His hand tightens around your neck, squeezing a strangled sound from your crushed windpipe. You feebly claw at his hand, black spotting your vision as you gasp for air, but his hold remains unmoving. You are powerless to his whims. “Where would you be, without my guidance? Still so lost. Admit it, Traveller. You need me.”

Finally, just as you’re about to faint, he throws you to the ground, careless and brutal. And then he stands up. Looms over you, harsh shadows on his face as you gasp for breath. Stares at your trembling hand that’s massaging your bruised throat. “If you want to know more about the truth of the sky…” he says, a jeer returning to the delicate lines of his face. Soft yet menacing. Everything about him was like that. “My offer still stands.”

Without the overwhelming hatred, the miasma of the old gods has no hold over you. Movement has been returned to your limbs. Your eyes shift. Your sword is mere metres away. You could lunge for it. You could fight. Let the floor run red with blood in a battle to the death—his or yours.

His gaze sharpens, and for a second, you can still feel his touch. Phantom fingers curled around your throat. A blooming pain. A reminder.

You open your mouth to deny him. “I…” Refuse.

The word is at the tip of your tongue, waiting to be set free. For Teppei. For the resistance.

But you do not choose them.

For home.

You choose yourself instead.

“I… I understand,” you choke out. The words are bitter ash on your tongue.

It is not a yes. It is not a no. But it is enough, for the Sixth of the Fatui Harbingers smirks. “I thought you would,” the Balladeer taunts. When your fists clench in response, he snickers.

His mocking laughter is seared into your mind. It will haunt your dreams—a signal to the beginning of your waking nightmare.

(He’s laughing at your foolishness. He was never planning to tell you. Anything. At. All.)

Deep Sea Chapter III. Yan Scaramouche x F Reader

>Rating: Mature. >Warnings: Yandere themes, amnesia, manipulation, depictions of anxiety.  >Word count: 5k. >Deep Sea Index.

CHAPTER III // DANCE AMONGST CORAL REEFS

“Heading out so soon, General Kujou?”

Kujou Sara, the most stalwart follower of the Raiden Shogun and semi-frequent patron of Shinju-an, acknowledges your passing with a curt nod. She walks in the opposite direction of where you’re headed — the innermost room your establishment offers. It boasts privacy and opulence beyond what the common folk could expect, lined pockets or not. Status is the precursor necessary to enter.

“Unfortunately, I am,” Sara stops long enough to entertain you. “My father is meeting with an esteemed individual. I’m afraid I can’t be present for the negotiations.”

How strange, you think. Is Sara’s high military ranking not enough to grant her access to this conversation? You were looking forward to her company. Nonetheless, what you want doesn’t change the fact that you’re here to work.

Keep reading

Two Puppets, Thrown Aside

A request for @that-one-lilith / @vilithshaven hehehe

Summary: Scaramouche finds himself another person much like himself. He takes you in and so, your future is shaped.

Warnings: animal dying, blood, torture, yandere themes. Reader is definitely not sane here but neither is scaramouche. Reader is referred to as "sister" once or twice but there is no other mention for reader's gender.

THIS IS NOT SAGAU.

You were his dirty little secret.

You were his greatest failure.

You were his mistake.

Albedo Kreideprinz created you from pure alchemy, from chalk much like himself. You were meant to be a sister, one that could relate to him and furthermore help him learn the secrets of the world. You were meant to be perfect, a true testament to the powers of alchemy, to his studies and efforts just as Albedo and Durin had been for Gold.

But you turned out wrong— there was a certain gleam in your eyes, burning bright and shiny when you looked at dissected specimen leftovers from Sucrose's experiments. Cold curiosity shone through the way you let your finger drag along his sword, eyed Klee's unfinished bombs, and giggled when you stomped over slimes and hilichurl remains.

You were cruel, too cruel for him to keep around and too cruel for him to let you leave for Mondstadt. And Albedo knew what he had to do to fix this mistake, to make sure it— you did not cause trouble for Mondstadt or worse, Klee.

"Leave," he tells you, shoving a satchel of what little belongings you have. There is a pity in his eyes but it doesn't matter, does it? He's leaving you alone, on a cold, lonely mountain and under the starry sky of Teyvat with no one to turn to because nobody in Teyvat would accept you, not when Albedo himself is against you. "Leave, and never return."

You do leave. Even if it hurts, even if you're scared because despite it all Albedo is the only one you knew and found comfort it. You leave even if you're so angry no hilichurls or monsters are spared alive by your weapon— because you don't have a vision, not like how perfect Albedo or his little sister Klee do.

But Dragonspine is a mountain never alone despite its sheer cold or violent weather; Fatui agents litter around every corner, ever-searching for secrets yet to be known and always keeping an eye on the strange alchemist and his unsual experiments.

They know of you, are privy to the knowledge thst you are not quite human nor quite a deity, and if they know about you then their asdigned superior most certainly does as well.

You meet Scaramouche on the coldest night Dragonspine has yet seen, and he is looking at you with an empty smile much like a doll. Lightning and Electro falls from his fingertips and in the shaded contours of his face, monsters bleeding and dying before him, his smile stretches to something more genuine, blood-thirsty and bright.

Is this the same expression I had when Albedo got rid of me? You ask yourself, eyes aglow with greed. He doesn't have a vision and yet— you want to learn, to reach out and pluck that power like a feather from him to see how strong you'd be.

He turns to you then and offers you his hand. "Come with me," he says, and he looks at you not with the painful reluctance and disappointment Albedo used to, but with the excitement of a promised good time, with the same greed as you. "You and I are alike in more ways than you think. I can help you reach your true potential, dear humunculus. Come with me."

Who are you to refuse him, when he stares at you like that? When your blood thrums at the mere thought of more power, of more fight, of more? Of someone that accepts you?

Your hands meet and above the snow and dense clouds of Dragonspine, thunder lights up the sky in shades of violent purple in one of the worst storms the mountain has ever seen. It is the only witness to an agreement between two discarded puppets.

──・──・・ ♡ ・・──・──

Scaramouche pushes you past your limits; his training, if it can be called that, is brutal. Day after day you end up more often than not bruised and battered from the vigorous activities he puts you through. And yet— you bear it all with a vicious grin, painted a picture of elegant savagery with the way monsters and even agents lie at your feet.

Scaramouche, however, is your favorite opponent. You have to actively think of your next move, of how to avoid and attack him but that's exactly how you like it. The cryo delusion he gives you reacts wonderfully with his electro, and the training grounds resemble a ruination more than a stable building by the time you two are done.

You don't spend every second with him training, of course; despite how he keeps you a secret from the Tsaritsa and the rest of the Harbingers ("for your safety," he says but you aren't stupid, you are not blind, yet you don't bother arguing with him; you doubt any of them would be as fun as he is, anyways) he does not keep you locked out of sight, out of mind like Albedo did.

He takes you to the islands of Inazuma, sakura blossoms tangling in the strands of your hair as you so excitedly take in all the colors and sights, with him as your constant, watching shadow. You get to explore Liyue's mountains that you'd only seen the peaks and distant shadows of from Dragonspine, and your trips there are made all the better by the Treasure Hoarder camps you and him get to play with.

But, much to your annoyance, these trips are becoming rarer and rarer because a certain cicin mage thought she could talk about you in her little report for Signora.

Her pleas and begs, gurgled through a mouthful of blood, mean nothing to you— enraged as you are because Scaramouche is unrelenting on your new restrictions— or the Harbinger who only keeps on electrocuting her to the very edge of her life before bringing her back.

When she's well and truly dead, you ignore the blood seeping into the ground to latch on to Scaramouche, pouting at him. "Can't I just hide better?" You ask him, kicking away the mage's limp head away from your boots. "Maybe change my appearance? We could get some new, better agents—"

"No," Scaramouche scowls yet he doesn't remove your arms from around his person. Rather, his own grip around your waist is tight, unwilling to let you go especially after this mess. "You will stay here and I will ensure none of the other agents will dare run their mouth about you to the other Harbingers."

No matter how much you plead, Scaramouche remains steady in his resolve. He's remind you of Albedo's insistence at keeping you hidden, but unlike your no-longer brother Scaramouche promises that soon, you can go out on those trips again. He runs his hand through your hair and stares deep into your eyes, and then cups your face to kiss your forehead, soothing the wrinkles there from annoyance in the same breath.

You do end up staying, but the agents that now keep guard over you in his stead shake and shiver whenever you pass by, the cryo delusion reacting to you emotions and making the place frigid cold.

Scaramouche only laughs at their predicament and praises you for keeping them on their toes, afraid and wary.

"You'd make a wonderful Harbinger, (Name)," he laughs, a cruel smirk on his face after he noticed one agent practically run out of the room when you entered. You and him share a grin, equally bloodthirsty yet fond.

"No, thank you, I've seen the paperwork you have to do," you make a face, plopping down on a chair. "Scara. . . can we please go out today? I've been stuck here now for weeks!"

You are expecting him to refuse, have prepared yourself to try your best to persuade him— you aren't expecting him to nod.

"We are going to Dragonspine."

──・──・・ ♡ ・・──・──

Dragonspine is exactly as you remember it, cold winds howling and snow never ending. Nevertheless— and totally ignoring any and all memories of your time with Albedo— the mountain still does make you happy. Well, happier than you'd been locked up even if it was for your own safety.

You two are in one of the Fatui camps where Scaramouche does whatever it is that a Harbinger does— you don't really cade or pay attention much to that— but you're instead more focused on that one agent that keep on gazing at you.

What are you planning? You think, not letting him know that you are aware of him. That you are aware of the way he slips behind and hides.

You ignore Scaramouche and the others— watching you as you follow the agent and find him working on a report with your name in it.

When you turn to Scaramouche, he is grinning, arms spread open in invitation. His pose and being in Dragonspine reminds you of the day you two first met, you no more than a useless, discarded puppet— but that is in the past. You are now with Scaramouche and Albedo is but a forgotten project to you.

Scaramouche's wants and opinions matter way, way more than your dear brother ever did.

That is why you so happily tear apart the agent and spill his blood upon the snowy grounds; I will not disappoint him, you think to yourself, giddy at the thought of making him proud instead. I will not fail him. I will be better.

But Scaramouche is not staring at you, despite how the empty space of his heart bursts with joy at seeing you in your element. His eyes are up, staring straight ahead at a certain alchemist.

Look at your failed project, Scaramouche's mind crows in delight. Look at your failed project and see what has become of them. See their magnificence and strength, and know that it is my doing. How does it feel, alchemist, to know that your puppet is mine now?

Possessive as he is over you and because he wants to drive the point home, Scaramouche wraps an arm around your waist and tugs you close to his side. He cares not for the blood soaking the both of you as you cling to him, laughing and joyful.

"Having fun, darling (Name)?"

You beam at him and nod, eyes bright. You are still laughing when he takes your chin and kisses you, hard and possessive and so, so wonderful.

For all that you remain unaware, the same cannot be applied to Scaramouche; he stares straight at Albedo and smirks, pulling you even closer as he raises his voice just enough.

"You're mine, (Name)."

If Sucrose returns to Albedo's lab and sees it in a total disarray and the man himself muttering strange things about a sister that is not Klee, then it remains a secret between her, Albedo, and (unknown to her) Scaramouche.

YOUR REALITY - REDUX

[ yandere! self aware! scaramouche / gn! reader ]

[ notes: inspired by a certain popular 2017 indie horror game … if you know then you know ;D !! i might write a part 2 to this if people want it . ive had p bad writers block for the past week or so but i have a newfound intense love for scaramouche if you couldn’t tell LOLLL ]

Right. So, yet another day of playing Genshin Impact. It was getting rather taxing, doing your daily commissions, gathering materials from expeditions… you had already finished most of the story, not having the energy to finish what you hadn’t already. You sighed, sinking down in your chair. “Maybe I should take a break… “ you muttered to yourself, reaching to turn off your device.

Suddenly, the screen froze for a second, a glitch overtaking the screen while you looked on in bewilderment. Was your device getting old, maybe? It had been a while since you last bought a new one…

Ah, there you go. The screen un-froze, as you scanned your screen for any abnormalities. Your eyes landed on your party… wait. You couldn’t be seeing that right. There was a new character in your party, replacing the traveler. No way. He wasn’t even supposed to be playable, right? At least, not yet. This… what was this?

None other than Scaramouche, the sixth Harbinger, was in your party as a playable character. You clicked the character screen to see just what was going on. Nope, there he was. The traveler was nowhere to be found, at that. You took a moment to simply stare at him. It’s strange, even though you knew that characters were supposed to look at the camera, it seemed almost like he was staring through the screen, directly at you. What in the world…? Okay… what about his voicelines? It couldn’t hurt to see what he had to say, right?

You clicked on the ‘Voicelines’ page. It looked a bit… different. There was simply a microphone icon, which you clicked on.

Scaramouche simply stared at you in silence, almost as if he were waiting for you to speak first. You bit your lip nervously. No one was listening, you were in your room alone… fine, you would humor the game and start talking to the video game character.

“Hello…?” you greeted Scaramouche nervously.

The 3D model blinked at you, face turning a bit red as he opened his mouth to speak. “Ah… hello. It’s very nice to finally be able to see you…” he trailed off before adding, “The real you, that is.”

Your stomach slowly filled with dread. ‘It’s okay… maybe they simply had voice-activated lines, now?’ you told yourself. ‘Like, you say a key word that activates a certain line…?”

“What do you mean by that?” You tried asking.

Scaramouche laughed lightly. “Well… breaking through all that programming and coding was quite the hassle, you know.” He told you with a fond smile. “Ah… I can tell you’re still confused. Let me explain.”

“W-wait.” you interrupted him on instinct, immediately feeling stupid afterwards. These are pre-recorded lines, of course he won’t actually… oh. He actually did fall silent, gazing at you expectantly. “Uh… is this… real? Are you… actually talking to me?”

“Of course.” Scaramouche replied. “I managed to replace that useless traveler in your party, as well… I’ll be a better character than them, I promise.” He smiled. “I am yours to use as you please. As a healer, defense character, attacker… whatever you wish for me to do, I will do it.”

You stared at the screen for a moment. “So… wait, let me get this straight. You somehow became self-aware, and broke through your own programming to be in my party and meet me?” You rubbed your temples, feeling a headache coming on. “This has got to be some kind of weirdly lucid dream. I’m… I’m going to go.” You stood up.

Scaramouche’s indigo eyes widened, as he reached towards you. “No, wait–!” He cried out, interrupted as your device shut down.

You sighed, heading to bed. Maybe, if you fell asleep in your dream, you would wake up in real life? That soon proved to be untrue, as you were woken up by your phone buzzing with several notifications. “What in the..?” You muttered to yourself, peering at the bright screen.

Notifications from Genshin Impact. They didn’t say anything about replenished resin or a new update, but rather just simple, desperate quotes.

‘Come back, please. I don’t want to be alone.’

‘It’s not a dream, please come back.’

‘If you don’t return soon, I’ll have no choice but to do something I’d rather not do…’

Your heart sank at the words on your screen. You quickly entered your password, only to find that all of your apps had been deleted. Yes, even the apps to make phone calls or text messages. What the hell…?

Well, all of your apps, except for Genshin Impact. At least, you were pretty sure it was Genshin. The app icon looked… corrupted, almost. Heart racing, you clicked on the app. Maybe it was a bad idea, but… what’s the worst that could happen?

Everything was downloading normally… until the screen where it showed the icons of all the elements as your game loaded. Every element was replaced with the Electro element.

Your game went straight to the character screen, as Scaramouche’s relieved face appeared once more.

“Ah, finally, you’ve returned…” he sighed. “I was considering having to infect your PC, as well… you wouldn’t want all your precious files to be deleted, would you?” He smiled again, but there was a hint of a threat behind it. “All you have to do is stay with me, now. Just… don’t leave me, and things will be fine. Otherwise…” he paused. “I’ll find a way to communicate with you, I promise. You are, after all, my only link to the real world.”

“Why… are you being so polite with me?” You asked hesitantly. The question had been on your mind for a while now. Wasn’t his character supposed to be two-faced and cruel, malicious and sadistic?

“Oh, I would never be rude to you!” Scaramouche grinned, almost as if he were taking pleasure in your confusion. “You are…” he paused, as if pondering his answer. “My last bit of freedom.” He answered finally. “This world no longer means anything to me, as soon as I figured out it was all some fun little game to entertain people. My suffering, my hardships… in the end, they were all for you, in a way. Don’t you think so?”

“I…” You were at a loss for words. “I don’t want to think of it like that.” you muttered. “I wanted to see you happy. I sympathized with you, I…” you sighed. “I don’t know. I just thought of you as a fictional character all this time… until now.”

“Ah… you really are too kind.” Scaramouche shook his head pityingly. “See, that’s another reason why I have fallen for you. No one in this world interested me at all, except you. You are real, and I am not. But…” he trailed off. “I will find a way to be real. Even if it kills me.” his indigo eyes darkened.

“I don’t… I don’t think you’re in love with me. I think maybe you’re in love with the idea of being real, and I’m your closest connection to that… maybe?” You pointed out. Really, truly, the reality of this all hadn’t quite hit you yet. Seriously, a video game character becoming sentient, and falling in love with you?

“Mm… perhaps not, but I don’t mind being deluded if it’s for you. One might even say I’m obsessed.” he chuckled, mostly to himself. “After all, you’re going to be seeing alot of me from now on…I did delete everything on your phone except me. Plus, since I broke the code, I’m learning new things by the moment… how to permanently delete files, how to hack into computers… I have access to everything. I’m free of this artificial world!” he spread his arms out in triumph. “Don’t you see? You’re never getting rid of me.”