Genshin Impact Scaramouche - Tumblr Posts - Page 2

Pls I keep thinking about this everytime I remember that Scara is a puppet and that Ei has all the power to build another one, and that puppet could be reader-

-> The Balladeer returns to his land of origin on important business by the order of the Cryo Archon and finds out about his creators second puppet - one who is not the Shogun...

-> Scaramouche/the Balladeer x reader!

-> Gender neutral reader! Innocent reader! No ship - reader is technically Scara's sibling! Scara thinks about unaliving reader and chokes them! Some dark themes but no actual violence or graphical descriptions! A lot of jealousy and hate, some angst!

The Balladeer loathed his home of origin, nothing but terrible memories existed there anymore. The lands belonged and were controlled by the one who created him - Beelzebul, who was also the one who abandoned him. In her eyes he wasn't strong enough, or good enough to act as her puppet. He was a mere prototype to the limits of it's technology and he simply didn't fufil her expectations. She threw him away as she didn't wish to have control over his fate.

What a joke... She created him to be her puppet on a string and when she failed to create what she envisioned, she left him to figure out life on his own. In the end she had managed to make the Shogun, who was perfect for what she envisioned to rule over eternity on the outside.

Outside of her he had never heard or knew of another puppet ever being made by her, yet when he laid eyes on you - it was obvious. You may not have been the spitting image of her, but neither was he. He of all would recognize the work of his creator and there was no mistaking your true nature. The electro symbol on the back of your neck - though hidden mostly by your clothes, could still be seen with keen eyes.

It wasn't wise of him, but he couldn't fight against the urge - no, the need to follow you around. You were constantly surrounded by the Shogun's men who were supposedly guarding you. If you couldn't even walk through Inazuma City without guards, then what could Beelzebul possibly see in you? What made you stronger or better than him?

The very sight of you made his non-existent blood boil and hands ball into tight fists. It disgusted him that you could somehow be considered his superior when you naively walked around the streets with your entourage looking at the different shops with those big doe eyes of yours...

Had he not recognized the signs, he likely would have thought you to be some wealthy Inazuman family's spoiled brat with your fancy traditional outfit and group of guards. That was likely who you were to most Inazumans, few knew the truth of the Shogun - so how or why would they know your true nature? Either way he would hear people talk about you and the Shogun - that she would sometimes be seen outside of Tenshukaku accompanying you...

Firstly she would create and keep you despite everything about you being the same as him when he was abandoned, and before he joined the Fatui. Weak, helpless and emotional. Then she even protects and spends time with you - either she leaves the Plane of Euthymia to be with you or she forces the Shogun to do so... Either way she goes out of her way to do this for you. What a hypocrite.

The more he followed you around the more his thoughts turned sinister... He wanted to see the look on your face as you faced and recognized him the same way he had. Right after he'd wrap his hands around your neck and... What he would do to be there when the Shogun would receive the news of it. He'd just have to find the right moment to sneak up on you.

What was worse than tailing you throughout Inazuma while he was supposed to be doing something more important, was that you were heading to the Grand Narukami Shrine. The home of Yae Miko, Beelzebub's bothersome kitsune familiar. He watched you greet the woman with a warm smile, clearly you knew each other quite well. Frustratingly he watched as you interacted with her for quite a while before she left you alone, your guards were left outside of the shrine.

This was his moment. You were facing away from him as you rested your palm against the Sacred Sakura, you muttered something as you closed your eyes but he could not hear what you were saying. He stopped a few steps below you and for some reason he hesitated... You slowly turned around with round eyes.

“Oh, I'm sorry. I did not hear you coming.” You smiled warmly.

That was the last thing he expected for you to do. Your smile was somehow calming and your eyes were so kind when you looked at him. They widened for a moment before your brows frowned in confusion. Scaramouche stared back wordless, unable to do anything...

“Have we by chance met before? You look and feel familiar somehow...” You questioned.

“No.” He coldly responded, yet you didn't mind in the slightest.

“I see. Are you here to pray or to pay respects?” You asked politely.

“Neither.” He curtly responded.

The silence that ensued was rather awkward for both sides as you simply stood still and stared at each other. The more you stared the more you questioned how you knew him or what you recognized him from, but you couldn't quite place it. His gaze was intense and made you rather uncomfortable... You were just about to excuse yourself when his hand wrapped around your neck tightly.

You were caught off guard and gasped loudly, you weren't able to make a sound or breathe. Panic began settling in as you clawed his hand helplessly while trying your best to suck in any air to your lungs. He stared blankly at you, his eyes darkening the longer he held you. The more you struggled the harder he pressed...

Your mind was becoming fuzzy from the lack of air and your legs began buckling under you, as hot tears filled your eyes. You looked at him pleading for him to stop with your eyes... His eyes widened as he stared at you complete in shock, slowly his grip loosened as his hand trembled against your neck. Without his hold you fell onto the ground and began coughing uncontrollably as you tried regaining your breath.

What was that - why did he let go? He didn't understand it either... But your eyes. The way you looked at him so helplessly and hopelessly, you were filled with fear but even now you didn't look at him with any hatred. Your eyes remained bright and soft. He hated them, he hated you. Yet he couldn't kill you...

He backed away before looking down at you, you were staring back with concern. Your neck was red with marks around it from his fingers, your hand was placed over it protectively. You weren't backing away, you simply laid on the ground unmoving.

“Are... are you okay?”

Was that a joke? Why in the world would you be asking that when you were the one who was almost sent to the beyond? He really didn't understand you, not anymore at least... Kabukimono would have. You reminded him of that part of himself and he hated it. He hated everything about you and wanted nothing more than to wrap his hands around your neck again, but finish the job this time.

But he couldn't do it when you looked at him like that... You wouldn't survive an hour without supervision from the Shogun or her men, you and people like you weren't going to survive in a world like this. You just weren't meant to, but he would leave you be. For both of your sakes it would be best if you never crossed paths again...

A/N: I honestly don't know lol not proofread! Like and or reblog if you want <3

"You have the audacity to fight me? Well, I hope you like being struck by thunders..."

TRYING TO DRAW IM DIGITAL AND THIS MAN HAS BECOME ONE OF THE HONORABLE FANARTS I DECIDE TO DRAW!!

You heard of tall dude, now get ready for...

✨Short dude✨

green thumb

request from anon - "requests for dendro!reader and scara? aaaa maybe a small scenario/set of hcs or something, where the reader teaches scara how to be patient with plants n stuff? gardening? maybe they guide his hands with theirs when he’s being a little… aggressive? something to do with the nurture of plants, maybe?"

a/n - gugughgh this is the cutest thing ever oh my godhggbfk i'm MELTING /pos !!! you got it nonnie, one gardening post coming right up! :D

S/O IS THE DENDRO ARCHON VOL 2 (KAEYA, SCARAMOUCHE, AND DAINSLEIF) (would help for context if you’ve read scaramouche's part in this before reading this drabble!)

pairing - scaramouche x DENDRO ARCHON!gender neutral reader

word count - 2014

genre - fluff

format - headcanons + drabble

warnings - skinship, established relationships, spoilers for scaramouche's identity (found in the 2.1 archon quest), not beta read! (might be some editing errors)

summary - in an attempt to further his bond with you, scaramouche takes it upon himself to learn the art of caring for flowers

"gentle" isn't exactly a word that scaramouche would describe himself with

he didn't concern himself with keeping up appearances that didn't paint him as a terrifying force to be reckoned with

after all: he's the sixth harbinger, and a harbinger who appears weak loses their authority and power

but there's a slight exception: you

all he really had to do was let his lithe fingers brush against the cool crystal of the gem that clung to his earlobe and he'd be red in the face and soft in the eyes

not even factoring in that your touch drove him to the brink of insanity and back

and though you've shown him nothing but beautiful blue skies and lingering morning touches bathed in sweet honey, he can't help but feel like he hasn't done very much for you

it's always him who stumbles in at precarious hours, all bloodied and bruised and asks you to heal him with you vision

and it's you who takes initiative to touch and hold him; to form beautiful flowers from your hands and weave them through his locks

compared to him you were softer than the delicate petals of a rose and somehow seemed to read him like an open book

though he'd never admit to the insecurities that ate him up alive at night when he's tangled up in your arms, he still resolves himself to try and do something for you

because though he struggles to show it: he really does love you more than anything else in this wretched world

continued utc!

you adored your flowers; adored the sweet smell of roses in their brightest bloom and little daffodils that begun to sprout from the green grass of the estate's land. on days that he was able to return home to your arms, he'd usually watch from afar as you tended to your ever-growing field of flowers and timbering trees that you had sprouted from the ground with careful hands and attentive eyes shrouded in a mossy hue.

scaramouche had never truly known what beauty and mysticality were until he laid eyes upon you in your craft; threads and spools of vines crawling up from the ground to weave around your arms and nestle at your shoulders where fluffy, snow-white birds sat chirping cheerfully away at your ears. divinity was scorned and scorched in his eyes; the picture of malice yet you were no gentler than the roll of ocean waves at the crack of dawn.

and it was that picture—your stunning visage bathed in the glow of nature that made his heart pound and throb against his chest.

if only being close to nature made him feel the same way that you do.

"these cursed," he scowled as he threw the cloth satchel of seeds to the ground, "wretched-" this time, the gardening trowel was flung to the earth, "ridiculous plants!"

the small bed of dirt he had dug up in the backyard was perfect in every sense except for the practical sense—practical being that the grown tulips he'd bought were accidentally ripped by the stem from their roots and now useless (since no one had informed him that yes, the roots are crucial). the soil he'd bought from a wandering merchant seemed rancid and unusable, the ferns delivered from natlan had wilted by the time they reached inazuma, and the rose seeds he bought had troublesome caring instructions that would put even a fontanian engineer to shame.

despite wanting to produce something of note for you, who could grow an entire field of flowers with a wave of your hand, it seems he failed in his task and that fact alone made his blood boil.

"darling? what are you doing?"

he whipped his head around to find you standing with a curious look on your face, arms crossed over the span of your chest as you tried to peer at the work he had done in the yard with a smile on your face.

"nothing, i am doing absolutely nothing." he grumbled and rose from the ground to face you with a scowl, "shouldn't you be out right now? or did you finally get tired of that puny, little town?"

"now, now," your hand rose to tenderly smooth back the frazzled strands of hair that fell in his face, "don't talk so rudely about the people, my love. i simply got what i needed in town and returned home early. though, this is quite the surprise. haven't you said before that gardening is a task far below a harbinger?"

"i've said many things before." he mumbled as he drew you close and pressed a kiss to the gem that hung from your ear, letting his fingers skim just over the shell of your ear.

"that you have. well, are you going to explain to me what you're doing, or will you continue glaring at my poor trowel?" you giggled and pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek.

he chewed the inside of his cheek and cast his eyes to the side, unable to meet your gaze. how low he's sunken—one of the most feared harbingers now a bumbling fool in love who couldn't admit to his defeated feat before you.

"love? what's happened?" your thumb brushed airily beneath his eye and quelled the nervous jumping of his stomach.

he muttered lowly, "i wanted to plant flowers for you," before planting his head into the juncture where your shoulder and neck met.

"oh my, is that all?" he felt you heave a sigh breathily—most likely out of relief—and sank further into his arms, "why didn't you ask me? you know that's an area i'm proficient in."

"i...i wanted...i-," he sucked in a harsh breath through gritted teeth before pulling his face from your neck and gripping your shoulders within his hands. there was no doubt that his face was burning bright red but he'd always push aside his pride for you.

"i wanted to show you that i love you!"

a beat passed, then two, and suddenly he was regretting his honesty and the silence was far too loud for his ears. the noon sun beat down on his skin and made him want to crawl underground and burrow.

"scaramouche, my love, look at me. let me see your eyes." you called for him just under your breath, hands moving to cup his cheeks and tilt his head towards you.

a tender expression blanketed your face, eyes swimming with an unshed gloss of tears and a warbled smile on your face,

"you always, always show me you love me," he nearly hummed beneath your touch; your hands felt so warm and smooth as they caressed his face and brushed aside the sweaty bangs that stuck to his forehead.

"and if i've ever given you reason to doubt that you do then i'm truly so sorry-"

"no! nothing like that." scaramouche scowled, tongue desperately trying to find the words to convey to you what he meant.

"you're so unlike me—so kind and warm, and i am...i..."

"you worry that i don't receive the same affection from you just because of our different displays of it?"

curse you for reading his mind—he'd have to hound you later on whether or not all the archons (or former archons, in this case) held the divine power to read minds.

"don't forget—wisdom is not only academic, it's also personal." you giggled and placed the palm of your hand onto his chest. he scowled but he hoped you knew that he wasn't mad or irritated, not with the way the tips of his ears glowed.

"you little minx," he jeered and pinched the soft of your cheek with a malicious grin on his face, "you could've spared me the formalities if you knew what i was saying and i would've made you squirm instead."

he bit back a laugh when you squealed and gently hit his knuckles to yield his pinches of doom.

"well i am your minx after all." you mumbled with a smile as you rubbed your cheek to soothe the dull ache.

"that you are, never forget it."

he took your hand within his despite the dirt that dusted them and ran his thumbs along your knuckles.

"scaramouche, do you know how loved i feel when i'm with you?" you hummed and squeezed his hands.

before he could reply, you urged him to stoop down to his poor, sorry excuse of a flower bed and picked up a rose seed from the discarded cloth bag with your free hand.

"you may not tell me you love me verbally, but i can feel it in how you hold me and all that you do for me—like that time you demanded that poor fontanian painter redo my painting because apparently she got my eyes wrong." you giggled at the snarl that spread across his face.

"what, you think i would let her depict you in any other way than you are? ridiculous, the nerve of that painter. i should've had her blacklisted from the industry." he grumbled and squeezed your hand.

"see?" you bumped your shoulder with his and smiled, "that is how you show me love. and that is how i feel your love. you may consider yourself no more than a puppet but i know that your heart is tender and kind and so full of love. i only wish that you have more faith in yourself as well, my love."

the rose seed in your hand began to glow a gentle green—it suddenly shot up, a spark of green from the seed, and blossomed so quickly into a beautiful, healthy, purple rose.

"this," you peered at him with hearts engraved in your eyes as you gestured to the rose, "is how you make me feel. forever and always."

it was uncharacteristic of him to get shy, and surely if he had his hat he'd use it to cover the blush that spread across his face as you tucked the thornless rose behind his ear. a "thank you" was on the tip of his tongue and yet he couldn't muster enough strength to say two little words that most likely would've meant so much to you.

but somehow you seemed to know either way, and he'd take a guess that you'd managed to study all his body and the language it speaks well enough to know what his mind speaks.

you tossed the bag of seeds to him and squeezed his hand, "would you like to help me plant the rest of these, darling?"

"if you insist i must." grumbled as his response might be, his heart was overjoyed and there was no denying the small smile that embedded itself onto his lips.

any time he felt the doubt of his worth crawl back up to bite and tingle at the nape of his neck, he remembered this moment: the moment where, as he flung the tulip with no roots to the ground in the heat of frustration, you stood beside him, moved behind him, placed your hands over his to guide him to plant the tulip with much more gentle hands than he would've ever done so as you breathed life back into the tulip and regrew its roots.

similarly, you breathed life back into him and allowed him to grow new roots within your arms.

from that moment on, scaramouche often accompanies you when you delve into your craft and return outside to garden

sure, he's not the handiest of men with flowers and your poor, poor cecilias are sometimes squashed unknowingly between his hands (because what harbinger can really control their strength?)

but he learns and he's quick to learn when your hands take his and guide him to be gentle with fresh daisies and soft ferns

and just like the spring that comes and brings new winds on the horizon, he finds himself falling more and more in love with the god who smiles among their flowers and sings songs to both him and the turtle doves that sit just outside his window

date published: april 7th, 2022

Byeol~ I hope you're having a lovely time wherever you are!! You can do this when you're not busy, but I wanted to make a drabble request with the "there's only one bed" prompt with Ayato and Childe <33 I'm stuck between Diluc and Scaramouche (since your characterization for them is to die for) so you can choose whoever you like more for the last. Thank you so much and have a good time!

underneath twilight ♡ part one

✦ ayato. childe. diluc. scaramouche. x gn!reader | part two.

✦ tags: sharing a bed (completely SFW) + various tropes.

ayato *. ⋆ lord and employee relationship

your eyes bounce between the extravagant king-sized bed and sofa. immediately, you make a beeline for the latter and promptly sit down on it. 

as you fluff the cushions on the sofa, AYATO's shadow casts over where you are. aside from his clean, familiar scent that was enough to scramble your brain whenever it enveloped you, he was the only other person in the room. 

the room he insisted you stay in — reasoning that it was reckless for you to sleep with the other male housekeepers, and that no one would wait on him. 

wasn't it the same though, staying in the same room as him? you wanted to question, but refrained, biting your tongue instead. he'd most likely find another way to have the last word. he always did. 

you look up at him, folding your hands in your lap and offering him a polite bow. "i bid you goodnight, milord. please do not hesitate to wake me if you require anything." 

ayato hums, tilting his head in your direction playfully, before elegantly taking a seat next to you. he crosses his legs, blatantly making himself comfortable. 

you blink dumbly. what was he up to now? squirming slightly under his gaze, you cautiously approach, "my lord?" 

"go ahead. sleep," he taunts airily. his voice drops an octave lower when he follows his challenge with, "i'll move you to the bed once you do." 

your stomach knots furiously, and it only worsens when he leans in abruptly. the commissioner seemed to have no concept of personal space, as he always lingered a little too close — never at a distance that could allow you to form coherent thoughts. 

the only problem was, you didn't mind this as much as you should have. 

"is that what you were hoping for?" he asks, tone changing from teasing to innocent so startlingly it almost gave you whiplash.

but after working alongside him for several years, you knew that ayato was never innocent — no matter how much he tried to hide it behind an innocuous facade composed of eloquence, grace, and close-lipped smiles. 

"i wouldn't dare!" you refute a tad too late. and with the cheery grin on his face, he knows you had considered it. sputtering out, "i could not possibly allow you to sleep here!" 

"i never mentioned that i would." he stands up, finally giving you a chance to breathe again, and makes a show of clambering into bed. laying on his side, his eyes shone with a gleam you were all-too-familiar with. "i'll stay right here. beside you." 

the long whoosh of air that gets knocked out of you a second time leaves you speechless, and all you could do was stare at him, open-mouthed, from where you sat. 

when you don't move, ayato sighs. "would you rather i turn this into an order?" he says it good-naturedly, though you knew firsthand that he'd make do with this threat. "i will not lay a hand on you. quite frankly, i cannot be bothered with the paperwork if you do report me for harassment." 

and even though ayato was never innocent, he's never placed you in harm's way. so, you slowly make your way to the bed with your back against the wall, arms slightly raised in apprehension.

still, you wonder if you could get away with strangling him in his sleep. you're pretty sure you'd be doing everyone a favor. perhaps a generous reward awaits you from guuji yae. 

ayato only tracks your figure with a lazy, amused smile. like a fox waiting for its prey. 

eventually, you find yourself under the covers. exhausted from today's activities and not wanting to deal with the man next to you, you fall asleep rather quickly after a murmured goodnight.

propping his head in his fist, he gingerly pulls the blanket closer below your chin. his hand lingers there for a second, thinking about how easily you'd fallen into his whims. 

his hand trails down to your jawline, tracing it as you slept. his heart is barely beating when a content sigh leaves your lips, feeling as if he could stay in this moment forever. 

in this moment, where you felt within his reach. and although you always were, given your occupation, tonight felt like he was hanging by a thin thread — suspended in time.

a place where status did not matter. a place where he did not have to mind prying eyes, and meddlesome mouths. a place where, even while you were asleep, his touch could cause you such contentment. 

and that was enough for him.

for now, at least.

childe  *. ⋆  childhood friends to lovers

"leave that for tomorrow," CHILDE complains, calling out to you from the other side of the room.

"i know, i know," you mutter to yourself, rubbing your eyes tiredly as you finally switch the lights close. "'m coming." 

it's almost pitch-black, and the cool weight of evening and fatigue fall on your shoulders. only silhouettes dance within the shadows as you maneuver in the dark to locate your bed. 

your knees hit the edge of its frame, and you pat the surface blindly. childe lets out a small grunt, "that was my stomach," he all but wheezes. 

"sorry," you snickered, not sounding a bit apologetic.

childe coming over to sleep was nothing new. the two of you were inseparable when you were younger, and you shared many other things besides a bed growing up. 

that is until he disappeared from your life for quite a while, and this little sleepover would mark the first time in a long time again.

though not much has truly changed. 

he's still insisted that you take the side that's right next to the wall, with him closest to the door. he explained that he'd be able to protect you much more quickly if ever someone intruded.

and like before, you're always the last to come to bed, so you always find yourself crawling over him to get to your spot. 

but the passage of time does not keep everything the same. it's inevitable — something that goes by unnoticed when you don't pay attention. not until the shifts are right in front of you.

because now, you've forgotten that childe's taller. much broader. and before you realize it, you clumsily fall over half of his body. he lets out a second grunt that night, and with a strength you don't recall he possessed before, he keeps you there by draping an arm over your hip. 

you strain your head up to look at him, the tip of your nose brushing his neck. this too, seemed like a new development. one you weren't overly opposed to. hesitantly, you whisper, "childe ... ?"

"stay there," he mumbles, releasing you momentarily to fix your positions and the blanket over both of you. you bury your face in his neck as he holds you in an attempt to become snug. 

"good?" he asks quietly. his fingers thread in your hair, featherlight touches as they dance atop your scalp.

you hum an affirmative reply, clinging to his shirt just a little more.

"good." there's a fond lilt in his voice, and you knew that he'd probably give you shit about this tomorrow morning, but you couldn't help it. 

despite the changes, despite all the years that passed, he still felt warm and familiar. solid and safe. 

"i didn't know you missed me this much," he teases. apparently, he couldn't wait until tomorrow. 

"i did," you admit, and childe is partly taken aback, not expecting you to humor him with blunt honesty. "more than you know." 

the arm around you tightens, pulling you even closer to his side. feigning his laid-back demeanor, he easily replies with, "oh, i know." 

you huff, managing a retort despite your weariness. "you're so annoying."

he laughs, and you feel his entire upper body shake. his hand goes to your upper arm, rubbing it up and down mindlessly. "but you love me." 

"i do," you whisper. the confession is so delicate — so raw — that his hand stills in their movements while sleep drags you deeper into its hold. "more than you know." 

vaguely, you feel him angle his head to look down on you. something damp presses against your forehead so lightly, that you almost believe that you were dreaming already. 

but childe's lips murmur against your forehead.

"i love you more." he breathes.

diluc  *. ⋆  fake dating

DILUC pinches the bridge of his nose in aggravation. he didn't account for how kaeya and the others would actually go this far. 

it started with a straightforward proposition. a simple scheme to get elzer and kaeya off his back, but he didn't foresee this far ahead into the future, nor considered this possibility. 

a future where you're both forced to share a room since you were parading around as "lovers" in mondstadt.

"i'm really sorry," you began, and diluc hates the way you sound so remorseful. this wasn't even your fault, as it was him who'd stupidly roped you into this entire predicament. "i could ask the front desk if they have another spare room, but they might find out that we separated ways." 

and he hates that it's still him, his reputation, his well-being, that you were considering to the very end. "i don't care. i would much rather have you sleep comfortably instead of keeping up with this act. i can sleep on the floor or move rooms —" 

"it's fine!" you blurt out. diluc opens his mouth to protest again, but you hurriedly propose, "we can share! it's just two people sleeping." 

with the look on your face, diluc knew you weren't entirely convinced as well. but then you continue with forced indifference lacing your voice, "plus ... this is all just fake, right?" 

an arrow pierces through his chest. 

"yes," he lies, mouth going dry. the arrow's steel tip digs down a little deeper. 

you nod, gifting him with a smile that's meant to reassure him, but diluc only feels dishonorable. after a while of awkwardly shuffling around one another, you feel the bed dip beside you as he finally lies down. 

"should i head down and request another blanket?" diluc offers. truly, why would whoever designed this room place an enormously large bed with a single piece of cloth that was half its size? 

you swallow nervously, avoiding his eye. "we could also ... share. if you don't mind." 

he gives you the tiniest little nod, and before he can spark another argument about moving rooms once more, you scoot closer to his side until you're flush against him. 

draping the blanket over both of you, he wonders if you could hear the hammering of his heart in this dead of night. it would be impossible for you not to. 

"please sleep well." your words come out muffled from his chest, and your breathing slowly evens out.

he keeps his arm above your shoulder, afraid to wrongly touch you anywhere else.  

he's aware that you've both gone too far to go back, and that you're both too terrified to move forward. and with the way he pulls you closer, presses you more tightly against him, even he can't deny that this wasn't just for warmth anymore. 

because with every minute that goes by, diluc knows he can't ever let you go. not when you feel like home in his arms. 

so he closes his eyes and decides that when the sun rises, he needs to make this all real, somehow. 

but that was a promise for tomorrow when you both start anew. 

scaramouche *. ⋆ enemies to lovers

"listen, can we please just get this over with?" you plead wearily. 

SCARAMOUCHE stood by the edge of the singular bed that you were currently arguing over. exhaustion permeated the air, as today's mission was longer than most — courtesy of your assigned partner, who never failed to give you a migraine — and you definitely did not want to sleep on cold, hard ground tonight. 

scaramouche closes his eyes with an irritated click of his tongue, looking as equally exhausted as you did. still, he manages to sneer and say, "and as i said, i'll be taking the bed." 

you heave a sigh, massaging your temples. "no, you'll take the floor." 

"i won't. do you forget your place? i carry a higher rank than you do." 

"fine," you spit out bitterly. "i'll go and ask childe if i can room with him. maybe he won't be an immature ass and actually knows how to fucking share." 

that's when his head snaps back to look at you again. bingo. his nostrils flare while he glowers at you — an expression you were practically immune to by now. "i can fucking share."

"see?" you scoff. archons, he was so predictable. "must you always win?" 

unbeknownst to you, scaramouche lets that comment slide, distracting himself by rearranging the extra pillows into a line down the middle of the bed, splitting it in half. 

because yes, when it comes to you, he'll always win. he wants — needs — to.

he gets in first, and you follow right after without any semblance of fear. it's something that's bothered him up to this very day and is responsible for the tight feeling in his chest whenever in your orbit that he's yet to name or acknowledge at all.

"stay on your fucking side or i will burn this entire place down," scaramouche warns threateningly.

you don't miss a beat when you answer just as rudely, "then we wouldn't have anywhere else to sleep, you idiot."

both of you lay there in stifling silence for a while, both staring up at the ceiling. neither of you questioned the tsaritsa's orders whenever you were forced to work together — but sleeping was a dangerous and vulnerable position to be caught in even if you were technically on the same side.

and it seemed like both of you was aware of that. 

"thank you," you express quietly, clearing your throat. your words hang heavily above your head, but you carry on. "i wasn't entirely keen on sharing a room with childe. or anyone else, if i'm being truly honest." 

the air shifts ever so slightly, and scaramouche stays silent for three more seconds before he can prevent himself from asking, "because?"

he feels you move to peek at him from the fortress of pillows, and he can nearly imagine the astonishment on your face. as much as he wants to witness it, he keeps his eyes stubbornly trained on the ceiling. 

"oh. well, i'm simply not as comfortable with the others unlike when i'm with you," you reveal easily, lying back down.

a feeling of pride surges in his chest.

"and i'm sorry —" you begin before he cuts you off. 

"it's ... fine," he responds curtly. the phrase felt so foreign on his tongue. dealing with forgiveness was never his specialty. normally, whoever slighted him never lived to see another day to apologize. 

"but are you always this talkative even before you sleep?" he gripes without any real malice to it. 

you let out a small, drowsy laugh, and he finds himself enamored with the sound, instead of being vexed. he doesn't fight the urge anymore and turns his head to look at you. 

he's grateful he did. 

it was the first time he'd seen you laugh, genuinely, without any pretense, and it filled him with another strange, unfamiliar, burst of emotion. 

"only with you," you mumble softly, a small smile playing on your lips. "goodnight, idiot." 

he merely scoffs at your name-calling, not wanting to presume how affectionate it almost sounded. soon, he allows himself to rest, sleeping soundly for the first time in years. 

and neither of you says anything when you both wake up entangled in each other's arms. 

the line of pillows gone, boundaries crossed, and sides long forgotten. 

✦ byeol’s notes: thank you to the lovely nonnie who requested this! i decided to do them all, my way of saying thanks for being so sweet and i loved the idea! and to my other readers, i'll be back to posting regularly — at least, once a week — if life is kind. ♡

i've been catching up on kdramas and manhwas, so you might've noticed that ayato's part is inspired by that one scene in the business proposal and the duke's cursed charm.

✦ reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! feel free to send any requests in. thank you sm and ily <3

꒰ა 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒, 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐑𝐒! ໒꒱

∴ multi-character x gn!reader: diluc, xiao, scaramouche, gorou, zhongli  ∴ genre: fluff, hints of modern!au ∴ warnings: alcohol consumption, pet names, xiao isn't really drunk but the theme fits, not proofread ∴ summary: genshin men + alcohol = ?

𝐀 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ∴ feat. diluc

diluc was an enigma of carefully hidden truths and igniting flames. even as his lover, you knew very little about him. 

you knew that he enjoyed the occasional game of chess and that he hated wine with a passion. his favorite flowers were small lamp grass and he absolutely despised waking up early in the mornings.

but you didn't know why diluc disappeared at night, only to come back to you with bloodstained clothes and an apologetic smile. you knew better than to question him, choosing to silently bandage his wounds and gently work through the tangles in his hair. you ignored the letters scattered throughout the mansion and the carefully polished seashell sitting on his bedside table.

your boyfriend was stoic; a mystery that chose to hide behind an unfeeling mask. so it came as a surprise when diluc let himself go and indulged in one too many drinks one day.

"did i ever tell you," diluc slurred, emphasizing the last word by poking your arm, "that i love you a lot?"

you let out a laugh at the odd display of affection, turning onto your side to face him. "you tell me every morning when we wake up and before we go to bed," you smiled. "is that not enough for you, my dear?"

"'s not enough," he mumbled, shaking his head. he bashfully gazed at you, and your heart stuttered at how much love he held in those scarlet eyes. diluc inched closer to you, bedsheets rustling, before grabbing your face in his hands.

"i love you," he vowed before peppering kisses all over your face. "i love you i love you i love—"

"okay i love you too!" you yelped, a wide smile splitting your face. that seemed to satisfy diluc, who laid back down and snuggled into the blankets.

a moment passed, the cries of the barn owls and the chirping crickets outside filling the silence in the room. you closed your eyes, drowsy from having wrestled your boyfriend into bed earlier. 

a warm breath on your neck startled you awake, your eyes snapping open to see diluc peering at you.

"did i ever tell you that i love—"

you slapped a hand over his mouth, glowering at him. "diluc, ask me again and i'll tell kaeya about this!" 

diluc quickly stopped talking.

𝐒𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐌.𝐎𝐔𝐓.𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐓("𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔") ∴ feat. xiao

you adored your affectionate, alcoholic roommate, but venti's weekly parties always left you trapped in your room with a migraine.

your nails clacked against your keyboard as you furiously typed your one hundred and fifty-seventh line of code for a programming assignment. soft lofi played through your speakers, contrasting the pounding music downstairs, as you compiled your program and prayed it would work.

you slammed your head onto your desk as "SYNTAX ERROR" flashed in bright red letters on your screen. "fucking hell," you swore, cursing yourself for choosing a complicated major and cursing venti for hosting yet another stupid party.

your grumbling was interrupted by the creaking of your door opening and a quiet "oh shit" uttered behind you. you swiveled around in your chair to see a dark figure peering into your room.

a muffled apology came from the doorway but you waved them in. "it's alright, come on in."

the shadow moved towards you. a bare arm emerged, decorated with green markings; a pair of alluring golden eyes followed. 

xiao. he was one of venti's closest friends, and a fellow computer science major at your university. the two of you frequently had classes together, but weren't well-acquainted. he was aware of the fact that you were venti's roommate; what he didn't know, however, was that you had the fattest crush on him.

"i'm so sorry," he apologized again. "i was looking for a quiet spot but all the other rooms were locked."

"venti started locking the doors after he found some strangers in his bed," you explained with a smile. "you can stay in here until you leave." you turned back to your laptop, eyeing the error message. 

"need help with that?" xiao's voice came from directly behind you. turning, you came face-to-face with his very attractive chest as he leaned down to peer at your screen.

"yes please," you stammered, the close proximity making your heart race. you stood up, turning your chair towards him. "be my guest."

you plopped onto your bed, wrapping yourself in your blanket to hide your rex lapis pajama pants as xiao took your place at your desk. a comfortable silence settled in your room, although you could still hear the faint sound of the music playing downstairs. 

propping yourself up on one elbow, you turned onto your side to face him. "i didn't take you as a party person," you commented, absentmindedly picking the dust off of your comforter.

"i'm not." gold eyes briefly glanced at you before returning their attention to your laptop. "venti begged me to come, and i'm here to keep an eye on some friends."

"ah the designated driver," you sighed. "sounds like fun." 

xiao hummed in agreement, and your room was silent again.

you quietly admired xiao's profile as he sifted through your program. he was clad in a black sleeveless turtleneck and ripped jeans, his tattoos on full display for your ogling. his hair was messy, like he had been running his hands through it, and his silver rings—rings!—matched the piercings on his ears. you almost couldn't believe that a man this attractive was sitting in your room.

your gaze moved up from his hands to examine his face—to your surprise, xiao was looking at you expectantly.

"sorry, could you repeat that?" you asked sheepishly, feeling your cheeks warm with embarrassment. 

he gestured to your laptop, pointing at your screen. "line fifty-six," he replied, hovering the cursor over a part of your program. "you're missing a semi-colon."

you scrambled out of bed to sit at your desk, slamming a finger down on a key before compiling your program. to your (and xiao's) utter relief, the semi-colon was the fix.

"it works!" you exclaimed, kicking your feet in excitement. "oh my archons i could kiss you right now—" 

you clapped a hand over your mouth, staring at xiao in horror. he stared back, eyes wide with shock.

"i didn't mean that literally," you stuttered, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. 

to your surprise, xiao let out a laugh. "it's alright," he chuckled, amusement written all over his face. he opened his mouth to say more, but a sharp ring cut him off. he turned his attention to the phone in his hand, glaring at the screen.

xiao grimaced, pocketing his phone. "heizou and gorou are fighting again, i gotta go." he grabbed a pen from your desk and tore a page out of a notebook, scribbling something onto the paper. 

"here, if you need help with a program in the future, just shoot me a text." he slid the page over to you, and with a small wave, he was gone.

the scent of his cologne lingered, a reminder that the past ten minutes had really happened. you glance down at the note in your hand.

Xiao 000-000-0000 I like your pajamas btw.

𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘! ∴ feat. scaramouche

"scara!" you shrieked, stumbling through the front door. "take your shoes off first!"

your stubborn boyfriend scowled from the end of the hallway, muddy shoes trailing dirt into your shared home. "no," he slurred, crossing his arms. "only drunk people take their shoes off, and i'm not drunk."

"babe, you are most definitely drunk," you gawked at him in disbelief.  "please, can you take your shoes off so i don't have to wipe the floors again?"

your pleas fell on deaf—and drunk—ears as scara raised an eyebrow and dragged his feet across the floor. desperately, you dove down and clung to his legs, hoping to save your carpet from being subjected to any further damage.

"scara please," you begged. "i'll do the dishes for a week and buy you dango milk—just take your shoes off." you reached for his shoelaces, frantically untying a knot before he clumsily shook you off.

"call me that again and i'll listen to you." scara hiccupped once. 

you studied him carefully, a smile creeping onto your face. "call you what?" you teased.

scara hiccupped again, looking away from you bashfully. "don't make me say it again," he grumbled.

you reached up to grasp his hand. "babe," you sang. "scara, baby, can you take your shoes off now?"

you heard scara's breath stutter before a sudden flush of red spread across his cheeks. he fumbled with his shoes before kicking them off, a laugh bubbling in your chest as he tugged you off of the floor and dragged you towards your bedroom. you rarely saw scara look so cute; it was easy to forget that your brat of a boyfriend had a soft side, a side that only you were able to see. 

perhaps getting him drunk more often wasn't a bad idea.

𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐒 (𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏) ∴ feat. gorou

"it's so odd to see the general of the watatsumi army like this," yoimiya observed.

you softly laughed at her comment, gazing down at the man curled up in your lap. gorou had dozed off after a few cups of sake, his head falling into your lap as he burrowed into his tail.

"he's a little tired," you smiled, gently stroking the fluff on his ears. "thoma tried to teach him how to make sweaters for the dogs in konda village—although i don't think it went well."

you told yoimiya about the scraps of yarn that gorou had dejectedly brought home, drawing peals of laughter out of your friend. as conversation flowed easily between the two of you, your hand slowly stopped stroking the pair of ears in your lap.

you were intensely recounting the latest neighborhood gossip when a sudden whine interrupted you, drawing your attention to the forgotten general in your lap. still asleep, your disgruntled lover yanked your hands back down to his head; as you tangled your fingers in his hair again, his tail began to wag, thumping against the aralia wood floors.

"oh—that's quite cute," yoimiya squealed, amusement evident in her voice. "he's just like taroumaru! do you mind if I take a picture?"

a few weeks later, rumor had it that the watatsumi army general hugged his tail while sleeping. when gorou interrogated you about the gossip, you feigned innocence.

𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒? ∴ feat. zhongli

you wandered into the kitchen, looking to clear your head with a cold glass of water—only to find your boyfriend rummaging through the fridge. 

"zhongli?" you gaped at him. "what are you doing?"

he swiftly turned, revealing a jar of peanut butter in one hand and an apple in the other. "oh," zhongli uttered. "hello, dear. did you know peanut butter with xylitol is harmful to dogs?" he lightly swayed in place, his eyes unfocused and hazy. 

"archons, how much did you have to drink?" you questioned, grabbing his arm to support his teetering frame. 

"i'm not that drunk," he claimed loudly. clambering towards the kitchen counter, he began clumsily digging through the drawers. "could you find me a knife, dear? i want this apple." 

you tugged him away from the counter and shoved him to sit on the floor. "stay," you commanded, pointing at the ground. you managed to find a knife and crouched down next to your pouting boyfriend, cutting into the apple.

you offered zhongli a piece and he took it, munching on the fruit. "did you know it takes thirty-six apples to make a gallon of apple cider?" he chattered. "and about four hundred grapes to make a bottle of wine. i wonder how diluc does it all? speaking of diluc, he—"

before he could go off on a tangent about diluc's winery, you shoved the rest of the apple in his mouth. 

"zhongli, i love you but i refuse to listen to the entire history of dawn winery tonight!"

a/n ∴ i would have added tighnari but i think he'd do shrooms instead. as usual reblogs and feedback are highly welcomed

veneration.

PAIRING: scaramouche x reader

GENRE: canon-compliant. belligerent romantic tension, flirting but not quite flirting, the trope of helping the other get ready for an important event.

TW/CW: slight spoilers for 3.2 archon quest (although it was literally revealed in the livestream so idk if it counts as spoilers).

A/N: boo, I'm alive (sort of.) I can't believe I'm writing for emo pinocchio, much less simping for him (yes, @x-zho and @byeol-ssi you read that correctly),,,, but HEY IF THIS DRABBLE GETS ME OUTTA BURNOUT DEPRESSION Y NAT COCONUT

"How fares your one follower, Lord Harbinger?"

The Balladeer pauses in the middle of what he's doing, a tangle of energy tubes falling around his ankles like an undignified noodle dish. Your voice is carefully, perfectly even, your eyes steadily fixed on your book as if nothing was the matter.

"Haypasia? Well, she's the first of many to come, so of course she is someone of great prestige in my eyes."

He enjoys the faint flicker in your eyes, choking back a taunting smile as your grip tightens on your book. To say that he held affection for you would be staunchly denied, but there was nothing Scaramouche delighted in more than to wear your nerves out.

"As she should be. Never forget the service she has done you, sir."

"And what of the service you owe me?" He retorts. "I don't recall summoning you here just so you could sit and recite pretty words to me while I do all the work."

An exasperated sigh and a slight rustle as you get up from your chair, followed by the echoing sound of your footsteps as you began climbing the stairs to the head of his soon-to-be divine vessel. "I had assumed that you wouldn't want my assistance until I was called for."

"I'm sure Haypasia would have willingly volunteered to assist me." Scaramouche remarks idly, tracing a finger along the polished metal. "When it comes to loyalty to me, I'm sure that that girl is second to none."

Silence, just as expected. Your face is pristinely neutral when you reach the top of the stairs and place the book on the floor, but he knows better; he knows how the blood surges in your veins in not-quite-jealousy, how the air catches in your throat at the thought of someone being better devoted to him.

Up until now, the Balladeer had had a hard time finding an edge over your nonchalant nature, with any sharp jabs left blithely ignored or rebutted, with no room for nonsense— for out of all the people who dared test their bravery by working with him, you were one of the few who had remained mostly unaffected by his short temper.

But with a certain researcher in the equation, it seems that he had a new — and most entertaining — way to push your buttons.

"You shouldn't have tangled up the tethers like this, sir." You kneel down to untangle the mess of cables at his already-tethered feet, your hair falling forward to conceal your face. "The Doctor would not be pleased if something were to malfunction tomorrow due to something as minor as this."

He stands stock-still as your hands trace along the length of his arm, searching for where to attach the cables to his wrists and shoulders, your fingertips brushing against his back as you check for any loosened tethers; to an outsider, it would seem that you were merely performing the duties of a faithful assistant. But every move and word was choreographed, designed to bring out your true intentions under the guise of professionalism.

"Tell me," The Balladeer asks, a taunting lilt to his voice. "What sort of book are you reading that distracts you from my glory?"

"Just something I picked up in the Grand Bazaar." You reply, and soft hands brush against the sides of his neck, reaching to safely tether him to his vessel. "A book of short essays and poetry, written by some obscure but well-read author."

"What sort of poetry?" Scaramouche keeps his gaze locked on yours, pretending to be unaffected by the way your arms enclosed the air around him, the close proximity between the two of you. The fun part of the game was to never reveal your hand of cards, after all.

"The usual; some about life, or loss. The seasons, and some about places the author had been to." Your eyes briefly flicker to meet his. "Love poems, too."

He cannot help but smirk, knowing full well at what you were playing at; the two of you had an unspoken agreement, a mutual push and pull as you aimed to tear each other's heartstrings out and have the other dancing in the palm of their hand. "Care to recite one, then? I'd like to see if you can actually spew pleasant words for once."

"If that is what the Lord Harbinger wishes," was your response, your gaze drifting away to focus on adjusting the tethers on his hands and wrists one last time. "There is one piece that I particularly enjoy; allow me to retrieve my book so that I may read that to you."

You were clever— he had to admit as much. This very well could have been your plan all along, to grab his attention with a book that you were certain would make an impression on him; he would not put it past you to have made such a bold plan.

But since the Balladeer was soon to achieve his lifelong goal, he was feeling generous tonight— he would indulge your little schemes for today, just this once.

"Ah, here it is." You straighten up, the pages rustling as you flip to the correct page. "This essay is rather long, but this particular excerpt is my favourite."

Scaramouche watches as you begin to pace back and forth aimlessly, your lips parting to take a deep breath in preparation... and he waits. He waits for the next move in the chess game, for his turn to come.

"Look up to the stars, and remember the light in my eyes." One finger traces idly along the page, your eyes following it intently as if to bore a hole through the paper. "Look to the east, the rosy dawn, and think of my lips, sweetened with the honey of memories with you."

"But furthermore, evermore, I beg of you, my darling..." Your feet shift to wander towards him, stepping closer and closer till you were only a few paces away from where he stood.

"...Look at me and only me forevermore." You recited, tilting his head upwards with the edge of your book, your warm breath fanning his cheeks as you leaned ever-closer. "Are these the sort of words you'd like to hear from me, Lord Harbinger?"

"Hah." A chuckle escapes his mouth before he can stop himself— really, truly, this was all too entertaining! "That all depends on what I am to you."

"What I am to you is the same as what you are to me." For the first time that evening you smiled, a mirror of the same smile he had now; the air of both challenge and taunt hidden behind the guise of a pleasant expression. "I wish you good luck on your promotion tomorrow, Lord Harbinger."

you're a pain in the neck. (literally.)

premise. in which you make a nuisance of yourself in every train ride you share with scaramouche. (inexplicably, he doesn't stop sitting next to you anyway.)

note. we pretend i didn't disappear for months :D enjoy

Neck pain has been increasingly common in Scaramouche's life these days.

The cause of which is sleeping peacefully on his shoulder, snoring softly as the train rattles past. The way you remain deep in slumber despite the constant lurching is impressive, but your knack for unwittingly making yourself a menace to society is even more spectacular.

Scaramouche takes a deep breath—Kazuha always did advise him to be more patient—yet the moment he does, tufts of your hair curl against his skin. A flush rises to his cheeks, body caught between freezing in place and jolting out of his seat, but he digs his fingers to his thighs and wills himself to dispel the urge to shoot upright, in fear of...

In fear of what? Shocking you awake?

Nonsense. He's never been that considerate.

(Still, once the tension bleeds from his body, he lets his shoulders drop, fitting your head snugly against the crook of his neck. He grabs your phone from your loose grip, tucks it securely in your pocket, and allows himself to stare at the dark circles beneath your eyes.

He can let himself worry for a bit.)

--

“What's wrong with you?” Kazuha's concerned gaze settles over Scaramouche's hunched figure, slumped miserably on the desk. His head is craned in a particular angle, and Childe, obnoxious as he is, had erupted in boisterous laughter when Scaramouche entered the lecture hall tilted the very same way. Unfortunately, Scaramouche had been too sore to swat away Childe's phone as he took a picture of him in a zombie filter.

“Got a crick in my neck.”

Kazuha frowns. “Did you sleep badly again?”

Scaramouche scoffs in defeat. “You could say that.”

The next time he sees you enter the train, you're drenched.

You make an effort to dry yourself, wiping rainwater out of your hair with a handkerchief and packing your wet jacket in your bag, but you're still undeniably soaked. Some passengers don't bother to hide their distaste, scooting away to other vacant seats as they shoot you a scornful look. Others aren't so cruel, offering packets of tissues and initiating small talk over the worsening weather. Scaramouche watches as your apologetic expression turns into one of gratitude, sheepishly admitting to the nice aunties you forgot to check the forecast.

Scaramouche doesn't quite give you a spare towel or send you a reassuring smile, but he broods silently from where he sits beside you, scowling at the impudent lot now sitting far, far away. Insolent fools, tactless jerks, ill-mannered garbage—a barrage of insults fly in his head, ones he has learned not to verbalize lest he gets in trouble for his crass mouth again.

When the train pauses to his stop, he pulls out a foldable umbrella from his bag, still seething. He hands it out to you, not making eye contact as he's still glaring at the woman giving you a side-eye. “Take this.”

“Uh...?” Perplexed, you hesitantly accept it. “But...”

“It's fine.” He slings his backpack over his shoulder, walking toward the sliding doors. “So don't come here drenched in the rain next time.”

He doesn't get to hear your response as he speeds off.

--

“I'm an asshole.”

“Is this your moment of self-discovery?”

“Congratulations.”

Scaramouche's eyebrow twitches, but he's much too panicked to make a snarky quip to fire back. It's his fault for picking the wrong people to talk to, anyway—Heizou is a smartass and Xiao has a perpetual stick up his ass. He should've confided to the empathetic Aether instead, or to Venti who gives surprisingly good advice when you least expect it.

“So what made you realize it?” Heizou bites down on a pork cutlet, apparently finished with his daily quota for pissing him off and now fulfilling his obligations as a friend. “Did something happen?”

“Does it have anything to do with how you arrived soaking wet to class?” Xiao adds, poking the tofu on his plate.

“Perhaps you tried stealing an umbrella on your way here?”

“You got it backwards, dumbass. I gave away mine,” Scaramouche scowls.

“That sounds like you did a good thing, then. What's wrong?”

The way he gave it away so roughly. The way he said you could use it so condescendingly. How he'd forgotten to offer words of comfort, no matter how painful or awkward for him, because he'd been so absorbed in pointless matters. How he'd completely ruined his chances of being friends with you by acting like an indifferent jerk.

All because he was too embarrassed to say he's worried you'll catch a cold from the rain.

--

When Scaramouche takes the train the way home, it's him who's dripping rainwater everywhere.

Karma had gotten his new umbrella stolen from the rack, it seems. He just bought it from the convenience store, damn it.

So now he stands by the doors, too reluctant to go any further inside the train. His wet sneakers squeak beneath his feet, hair sticking uncomfortably on his forehead. His shirt clings to him like second skin, and the only thing retaining his modesty (because of course he falls prey to downpour the one time he wears a white button-up) is a heavy sweater vest soaked in water.

“So much for telling me not to come here when I'm drenched.”

A small towel drapes itself over his head, and Scaramouche quickly turns on his feet. Your mouth is curled into a grin when you step to the spot by his side, but not unkindly—you aren't here to mock him or return his cruel words.

Scaramouche grabs the towel sitting atop his head, drying his hair with it. As he does so, you make no move to leave even with plenty of vacant seats remaining unoccupied.

“... Aren't you going to sit?”

“Hm? No.” You're already holding onto a handrail, staring ahead.

“...Why not?”

“I'm keeping you company.”

???

“Oh, and your umbrella.” You fish it from your bag, holding it out for him to take. “Cute pattern, by the way.”

“Wha-” he's about to say ‘what are you talking about,’ but then he sees the cute star print, the gold sparkles bright against navy blue, and his hair rises on end, face flushing a deep red. Nahida was the one who packed it for me...!

“...Cute.”

“I heard you the first time,” he grumbles under his breath, accepting it from your hand.

An endeared smile crosses your face, one that he doesn't see as he stuffs the umbrella into his backpack.

I wasn't talking about the umbrella.

Scaramouche has always made it a habit to take the train before rush hour, but his report is due today, and so he slept for a grand total of two hours last night just to finish it. It wouldn't even be two hours if he hadn't slept through his alarm, but he wishes he'd woken up earlier; if it meant he could've avoided a crowded train, he could stand to lose some minutes of sleep.

“Can you move a bit?”

“Ow, ow...”

“Sorry, I stepped on your foot!”

“I hope nobody comes in at the next stop...”

Scaramouche empathizes with the last remark in particular, because he really couldn't handle it any more.

Presently, he's staring at the ceiling, praying for divine intervention. His neck is starting to hurt but he forces himself to face upwards, otherwise he would...

“This is tough, isn't it?” You laugh awkwardly, your chuckle turning into a wince when an elbow digs to your side. The train car is packed at full capacity, and you wouldn't be exaggerating if you were to say you felt like you were drowning in a sea of people.

“That's a massive understatement,” Scaramouche replies, wishing for death.

“Sorry. I can't go any farther than this.”

“It's fine.”

Actually, nothing is fine.

Scaramouche is trapped against the wall in the farthest location from the exit, surrounded by people from all sides, his stop is two stations away, and he has no idea how he's going to swim all the way through the doors.

Oh, and he's caged between your arms, pressed against your body, and feeling very much like a pervert for sniffing your scent, but it's simply impossible not to smell you at this close proximity (however, it's entirely his fault for thinking you smell good and trying to pinpoint what cologne you use).

Your head is resting on his shoulder, and Scaramouche learns quickly this position is a lot more embarrassing when you're conscious. And fuck, this time he can feel you breathe directly against his neck, puffs of hot air blowing on his reddened skin, and he can only hope for the best you can't sense his racing heartbeat.

You're too goddamn close, even though he can tell you're exerting your utmost effort to create some distance between your bodies. Your arms are straining pushing on the wall just so you wouldn't crush him under your weight, and as much as he should appreciate it, he can hardly think straight over the sound of his pulse in his ears. He's hanging precariously over the edge, and if he crosses his limit, he might just pass away on the spot.

Hell, if he so as much looks down, he's close enough to kiss your forehead, and-

He really shouldn't be thinking about that right now.

So yeah. Scaramouche may look like an idiot facing the ceiling, but at least he isn't at risk of cardiac arrest.

It's fine. This is fine. I'm one stop away. I can survive this. Just a little more.

But the gods above must hate his guts or something because the train screeches to a rough halt at the station, the car rattles violently, and you're squirming underneath him, his hands instinctively wrapping around your waist to steady you, but your head moves to look up at him and-

Scaramouche very nearly astral projects to another plane when he feels your lips graze against his chin.

“Hey, you okay?! Did you hit your head on the wall or something?”

He feels like he did. He's so dizzy and the world is spinning around him, but at the same time you're the only one he can see. This must be unhealthy, Scaramouche thinks, and he wonders how much blood has rushed to his head, coloring his cheeks bright pink, and if he can die from losing too much blood this way.

“Kuni?”

How do you know my name, Scaramouche isn't sure if he really says it, mind still whirring with thoughts, and oh god his hands are still on your waist-

“Your umbrella had a name tag...” You squint at the neon letters displaying the current station, “Hey, your stop is here, isn't it? Excuse me! Coming thro....”

He vaguely remembers your hands pushing him forward and the crowd parting obediently to make way for him when they see his face becoming visibly ill. The rest passes in a blur, and when Scaramouche finally comes to, he's already outside the train station.

For a brief moment, he stays frozen. Then by the corner of his eye, he notices the shopping center.

He stares at the pastel decor from the cosmetic store, approaches the vanity mirror, and if possible, his mind turns even more blank.

A faint kiss mark is stark against his chin, the same color as the lip tint you wear everyday.

“I'm not going.”

Venti sighs, disappointed but not surprised. “You never go to drinking parties with me. Why do you always head straight home after class?”

“Reasons.” Scaramouche closes his laptop and slides it inside his bag, making quick work of packing his things. “In your case, I'd advise you to go less. Being an alcoholic isn't a good look.”

“My liver is strong,” Venti insists, a cheeky grin dancing on his lips. “But seriously, what's up? Don't tell me you have a secret girlfriend you meet up with after class?”

“I was starting to think the same thing,” Aether pipes up, matching curious looks with Venti. “Or maybe you have a boyfriend? Either way, what are they like?”

“I have neither,” Scaramouche grumbles, coming off more pitiful than spiteful. “And I'm coming home early today because Nahida wanted me to get something for dinner.”

“Ehh, that's boring.”

“You're the ones making assumptions by yourselves!” Scaramouche snaps, treading towards the door. “I'm leaving. Don't call me to pick you up when you're wasted, it's Xiao's turn this week.”

“Okay, enjoy your date~”

Scaramouche doesn't even bother replying.

--

You get on the train scheduled for 4:15 everyday.

It's not that Scaramouche deliberately researched this information; he really did just catch the same train rides by chance. Over time, he began to recognize you as a familiar face, and eventually, he even became your headrest.

Not by choice, but he supposes he just has to live with it.

It's not that Scaramouche intentionally takes the same train so he could see your face. At least, that's what he tells himself as he silently pressures the retail cashier to scan his items faster and practically flies out the convenience store to rush for the train.

He glances at his wristwatch. 4:11. I'll make it. He breathes a sigh of relief, and checks the shopping list Nahida texted for good measure. Curry mix, milk, a carton of eggs...

A notification sound rings from his phone.

‘Sorry for the late notice, could you get pudding for dessert too?’

Shit.

Panic flares in his eyes and he spins on his heel, returning to the convenience store. Do I sprint? No, it's still not humanly possible to buy pudding and go back in four minutes... But I could try. Wait, wasn't there a line of customers behind me earlier? I'd still have to wait in line.

Finally, he stops running. This is stupid. Why am I working so hard just to catch this train, anyway?

Before he could even properly sulk about it, Scaramouche bumps into someone hurrying for the train. “Oh, sorry! I wasn't looking-”

Much to his surprise, your face comes into view when he looks, chest heaving for breath. You look like you've been running for a good while, hair in disarray from the wind, the reading glasses perched on your nose askew. And that's how Scaramouche knows you're in a real hurry, if you didn't even have the time to put on your contacts.

“It's okay,” Scaramouche quickly replies, stepping aside out of your path. “The train is still there, don't sweat it.”

He turns to the convenience store, mood lifted. I got to see them, so I guess this way is fine, too.

--

When Scaramouche returns from shopping, he comes back to a strange sight.

“Huh?”

“What are you looking at?”

Good question.

Why was he looking at your figure, still waiting for the next train to come by?

“No, well...” The plastic bags in his hand crinkle when he tightens his grip on them. Scaramouche blinks repeatedly, trying to see if you'll somehow fizzle out of existence if he closes his eyes enough. “You definitely could've made it in time for the train, so why are you still...”

Your lips stretch to a small smile. “I didn't.”

No. You definitely did.

You were at a distance where it'll only take three minutes max to reach the train even if you walked the same pace as a turtle. So why...

“Your face can be surprisingly expressive sometimes, Kuni. You're practically a walking question mark right now.”

“Ku-” He stops himself from speaking before his voice could crack.

“Sorry, you don't like me calling you that?” You're tilting your head at him, putting on puppy eyes. Oh no.

“...No. It's fine.” Damn it. Aether was right—he really is a softie.

However, he's still busy pondering. Sure, it's a stroke of luck and Scaramouche won't look a gift horse in the mouth, but why didn't you take your usual train? You were even running towards the station, arriving with wind-tousled hair and disheveled clothes.

“I was waiting.”

Scaramouche blinks. “For what?”

You stare at him in disbelief, like you seriously can't believe he doesn't know. That's when Scaramouche notices some things about you are a little different from earlier.

Your hair is fixed now, no strands randomly sticking up in the air. Your clothes are neat and tidy too, creases patted down. Your glasses are gone, and Scaramouche isn't sure if it's just his mind playing tricks on him or the color of your lips appears more vibrant from earlier.

He flinches when a sigh escapes you. But then the frown on your face is replaced with a dazzling smile, exasperated but fond.

“Who do you think I'm waiting for, dummy?”

BONUS: A look into the future.

“Has anyone ever told you your chin is really sharp?” Scaramouche grumbles under his breath, movements heavily restricted when your arms are wrapped tightly around his torso and the edge of your chin is stabbing his neck. Cooking breakfast proves to be a lot more of a challenge when a koala is clinging on his back.

“No,” you chirp, grinning ear to ear as you watch him stir the pancake batter over his shoulder. “Has anyone ever told you how cute you look in an apron?”

Scaramouche glowers. “No.” If a living person actually did, they wouldn't be for long.

“That's good.” If possible, you squeeze him even tighter, nuzzling against his face. “I want to keep the adorable Kuni to myself.”

“Disgusting.”

So he says as he leans his head closer when you peck him on the cheek.

Some things just never change, he guesses.

Honestly this sums up my thoughts on Scara's story so well, I really hope Hoyoverse gives his lore the care and detail it deserves. He has the potential to be so much more compelling, but it all depends on how Hoyo writes his 'redemption'.

one of the reasons i simply cannot WAIT for playable scara arc is because so far hyv has worked up to giving reasons (not justifications. reasons) to his behavior, and it can all be summed up by the fact that he was abandoned, then tricked, and so full of resentment.

like. thinking about how soft he was back when he was simply supposed to be the gnosis recipient, how he would cry in his sleep - how even after waking up as a wanderer he was still soft with children and the elderly OUGH.

when you think about it, he's been manipulated for so long by the fatui. experimented on. and the delusion clearly fucked him up so bad.

and thinking about it, it's kind of similar to the situation with xiao when he was used by that fucking god. if the story had begun then, if we had met xiao and seen him eat a friend's dreams (much like we saw scaramouche cause teppei's death), portrayed as a tyrant's weapon, i wonder if there would be the same weird war between those who want him and those who absolutely hate him. and same with diluc - if the story had begun in snezhnaya during his killing spree, etc etc

waiting to see scara have a magical girl transformation

i accept no other way to have him switch up his fit

yes i am aware of the lore implications of the colour palettes but i just can’t see him somehow procuring the anemo(tm) fit without the disney magic sparkles

I have one less friend now, but at least I have Wanderer.

Levelled my Wanderer up to 90 for his birthday!! Gremlin ate so many books though my god

To all my mutuals..,forgive me for the person I become when(not IF! When!!) I get Scaramouche.

I have yet to acquire Scaramouche, so to cope I am writing fluff. Incredibly self-indulgent fluff. 

(Sfw) In which you get sick after traversing to Dragonspine

Characters: Scaramouche, gn!Reader (neutral descriptors that don’t point to any gender, race, size, etc.)

Warnings: None!

WC: 432 words

“Tell me again how you got in this predicament,” Scaramouche muses, watching your illness-ridden body sink deeper into your bed. You had asked the Traveler to send him over to your house as soon as you felt how stuffed with snot your nose was. However, the smug look on his face was making you regret seeking him out.

The previous day, despite his warnings, you went out to Dragonspine in search of Starsilver. It is not a region that is to be taken lightly, but you promised him you wouldn’t be long and that you’d bring warming supplies like goulash and warming bottles. However, you were halfway up the peak when you realized you had forgotten to pack some warming bottles and your goulash was running low. Instead of turning back or even calling for help, you pushed on. So, it was no surprise that after spending hours in the tundra of a mountain, you would fall ill the next day.

“If I tell you, you’re going to laugh,” you whine, trying to avoid admitting to your mistake.

“If it’s any comfort, I’m laughing right now.”

“Yes, let me find comfort in my own partner laughing at my illness,” you roll your eyes, adjusting your body so you lay on your side to avoid Scaramouche’s gaze. He hums in response, crossing his arms. Truthfully, he was beyond concerned. He had an inkling you’d get sick and initially offered to come with you, but you insisted it was unnecessary. He wishes he had just gone with you.

“Do you expect me to be your personal nurse?” He bites at his tongue as he watches how fast you twist your body to look at him, hope shining in your eyes.

“Will you really?”

“As if! You got yourself in this mess.” He turns away just as you begin whining, no doubt trying to use your puppy dog eyes. “I still have my own responsibilities.”

Neither of you say anything, and he starts to think that maybe you’ve gone back to pouting silently. Until...

Sniff.

Sniff sniff.

He groans and looks back at you, narrowing his eyes as he sees the crocodile tears bubbling in your eyes and the quivering of your lip. 

“Shut the waterworks down or I won’t make you soup,” he hisses, setting down his hat on the hat hook near the door to your room. You let out a cheer, the tears nowhere to be found as Scaramouche mumbles under his breath.

He’ll never admit it but being able to dote on you and help you recover made his stomach flutter.

I cannot take Scaramouche seriously. Like I love him, but he's so goofy. He's like intimidating someone and I'm in the background waving a sign that says "Go you tiny man filled with rage."

Please, he's just to cute :(

Genshin AU ideas that have been living in my head but currently don't have enough sustenance for me to consider writing stories for

Fatui Fledgling AU

This AU idea is based on a fic I read "Strings Attached" by VeePASTA (Viewer discretion to all who plan to read it, it's NSFW)

Similar to what happens in the story (minus all the sex cuz I ain't about that life), in this AU, instead of the Fledgling dying (Idk if I want to call him Tori or Hinadori yet), he survives when Kabukimono and Dottore cross paths and Kabuki decides to essentially sell himself to Dottore for the price of the Fledgling's survival.

To pull that feat off, Dottore replaces the Fledgling's infected organs with artificial innards made after studying Kabuki, essentially turning the Fledgling into a long-living cyborg puppet. As per his and Kabuki's agreement, Dottore lets the Fledgling go after a few experiments, but the Fledgling decides to remain as Dottore's assistant to stay close to Kabuki.

For the next 500 years, Kabuki remains Dottore's favourite experiment and prisoner and never becomes a harbinger, and while I don't think the Fledgling would ever become a harbinger himself, I do like to imagine that he grows up with a cold disposition that slightly resembles canon balladeer's if you take away the god-complex.

Although he's Dottore's assistant, if given the chance, he wouldn't hesitate to brutally murder the man (for reasonable reasons) and bust himself and Kabuki out of there. I like to imagine that this determination allows the Fledgling to receive a vision (probably an Electro based on an explanation interpretation I saw in a video) and that his skills would have something to do with dolls :))

I just think it would be super interesting to see the Fledgling in a similar role to canon Balladeer and how that would change the story :uu

I'm still contemplating if the Fledgling should be successful in his goal of saving Kabuki, or if I should kill Kabuki off for character development.

Collei runs away from the Fatui with Kunikuzushi's decapitated head AU

This AU's inspired by two fics: "I'll get you home" by jammincat and "Two Flowers to Trick the Children" by zephyrai

Long story short, in this AU, Scaramouche/Kunikuzushi/Whatever else he's named lol helps Collei escape the Fatui. I haven't decided yet if he's still a harbinger in the AU and just got close to Collei the same way he does in TFTTTC, or if he's just a fellow test subject who just knows more due to how long he's been with the Fatui.

Either way, he helps her escape but then Dottore effing shows up and effing d e c a p i t a t e s Scara to which Collei grabs his head due to "Not my best/closest/only friend!" emotions and runs away, somehow successfully escaping Dottore).

In this AU, I imagine Scara working a lot like the gems from Houseki no Kuni where he kind of goes unconscious when he loses too many pieces of himself (or, y'know, loses his head) but is perfectly fine after you put the pieces back together, but as far as anyone in Mondstadt was concerned, Collei is essentially carrying around a dead person's head lol

Tho I do also imagine that maybe Scara's head is still able to have thoughts and that somehow, Collei is able to telepathically read those thoughts. So not only was she the traumatized kid who carried around her dead friend's head, but she was the traumatized kid who was so traumatized that as far as the Mondstatders were aware, she would talk to her dead friend's head and treat it like it's not a decapitated limb.

Maybe whenever Scara's head is around electro crystals, he's able to communicate using an Ouiji board or something, so now people don't think she's crazy anymore when they see him "talk" but they do freak out because "IS THAT GHOSTLY ACTIVITY???"

I just think it would be interesting to see an AU where Collei has Scara's decapitated head around. I'd enjoy seeing a segment where the traveller needs info on Dottore and Cyno's like: "I know a guy, who knows a gal, who knows another guy who could help you out" and they just expect to see another forest ranger when SURPRISE MOTHERFUDGER- it's a decapitated head!

Either way, in this AU, I can imagine that one of the conditions Nahida makes in her deal with Dottore is for him to return Scara's body. Now, although his body is not conscious, Dottore can still use it for some experiments, so he's not to keen on accepting the deal until an audible crack can be heard from the gnosis' in Nahida's grasp lol.

Fatui Fledgling and CRAFTFWKDH mashup AU

I ended up having another thought: "What if I mashed up these two AU ideas together?"

The fledgling is Dottore's assistant who smuggles things from the outside for his big brother: books, treats, small toys, and supplies to make stuffed dolls, and Kabuki, who sympathizes with the young girl in the cell next to his, reads his books to her, gives her his treats and toys, makes her a doll, and eventually convinces the Fledgling to aid him to help Collei escape.

Just like in the CRAFTFWKDH AU, this doesn't go too well and Kabuki gets his head and arm decapitated, to which the Fledgling snags his head, Collei grabs his arm, and Dottore retrieves the rest of his body.

I don't know what the two's relationship in this AU should be like yet, but I imagine that initially, Collei hates the Fledgling and the Fledgling doesn't really care about her, but as the only members of the "Kabukimono's Younger Siblings" club, they probably learn to tolerate each other after his decapitation... kinda like real siblings lol.

After that ordeal tho, I'd imagine that the Fledgling probably just drops Collei off at Mondstadt and goes off to do other things I don't know yet (probably not go back to the Fatui, unless he plans on retrieving the rest of Kabuki's body on his own or smth). The two are still able to communicate thanks to the body parts they retrieved from Kabuki's dismemberment.

I don't really have much else for this AU, but the Fledgling would probably also show up in the Sumeru arc.

I have decided to do another experiment on my style, but this time I abused my poor sketchbook and damn all these design elements.... curse all the straight lines that I didn't do cause couldn't find my ruler 📏