Oh God, Those Headcanons Of Tailor! Reade And The Harbingers, So Good!

Hi there! So excited your requests are open <3 What do you think Scaramouche would be like with a darling that has panic attacks? I've only had them when I'm seriously distressed, upset, or stressed, which I think a darling of his would be quite.. often. I feel AWFUL during and after them, just ill. I can't see him being nice (only sorta kind of you'd have to look under a microscope quasi-nice if something REALLY bad happened) or forgiving if this happened in company (my worst nightmare).

Title: Cracked [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Synopsis: You have a panic attack at the worst possible time.

Word count: 1221

notes: yandere, forced marriage, panic attacks

By the time that you’re hauled out of the room, by the time that Scaramouche’s unrelenting grip on your arm bruises your skin as he pulls you into your bedroom, it’s too late to salvage the evening. The guests were not doubt chattering and alarmed, if they hadn’t already been shooed out of the estate by the guards and servants. They must be shaking as much as you were.

But you can’t think about them, or the guests, or even the way that you messed up tonight. You can’t even think about the pain in your arm, or the way that bruises are surely blossoming under his fingertips at this very moment.

You can’t think at all. It’s all too much. You can feel the cold sweat trickling down your back, budding at your hairline like morning dew, though it was nowhere near as charming. Your heart skitters along, and you wonder if you might die; and that wondering only makes it beat faster, only makes you lose your balance, stumbling on shaking legs.

You don’t go far, because his grip is so tight.

You can only just make out the words that he spits at you.

“Are you daft? What’s wrong with you?”

You see his mouth move. You hear the words. But you can’t answer. You can only breathe, deep, heaving breaths that don’t make you feel any less anxious. You want him to let go. You want him to leave you alone.  You want everyone to leave you alone.

That’s how it started--with everyone and everything. Too many people, too many things. Tapestries and flower vases arranged just-so. Your clothing, thick and layered, cumbersome and still foreign on you, though he’d be dressing you up for months now.

You, a perfect doll surrounded by perfect things and watched endlessly by guests, your oppressive husband at your side. Prepare the tea and pour the tea and smile and converse and say the right words and do everything pitch-perfect every time and tilt your head just the right way so that the flickering light from the lanterns reflects off your face to show off your modest yet elegant beauty--do all of these things perfectly because your husband was a Harbringer and if word got out that his wife was an ill-mannered disobedient little thing, he wouldn’t be pleased.

Normally, you were good at this. You had to be. He expected it, and he trained you for it, and all those hours of practicing your poise and your smile and just the right type of conversation that would please your husband without inciting his jealousy would be for nothing if you weren’t a perfect hostess.

But even perfect porcelain can crack. And you tonight, you cracked. Oh, did you ever.

Now, here you were, breaking on the inside and maybe the outside too. Sweating and cold and dizzy and scared and the clothes on your back are too heavy and the smells of the food wafting through the corridor are too rich and your husband’s words, coming at you in irritation and the slightest tinge of concern, are making it worse. You want him to be quiet. You want everything to disappear. You’re smothered, too smothered, and it just won’t stop.

You gulp in great, big heaving breaths as he finally lets go of your arm. You walk backwards and half-fall onto the bed. You dimly register his movements--he’s walking towards the table on the side of the bed, but you can’t fathom what for, and it doesn’t matter when you start feeling like your throat is closing. Is this how you die? Is this--

And then there’s a feeling of cold and wet on your face, a cold shock, and your throat feels like it opens as you sputter.

It’s still in you, that tight oppressive feeling, but now there’s indignation and surprise that begins to overtake it.

Then he’s there, kneeling in front of you--and that imagery might be shocking, if you could think about it more clearly. His hand grips your thighs and your mind hones in on the sensation of his nails digging into your skin.

“Look at me,” he says.

You do. Your lips quiver. Your chest heaves in and out, no longer frantic, but still unsettling.

“Calm yourself.” His voice is firm, and you try to grab onto his words and the sound of his surety. Your mind hooks into it, hooks into the dull pain from his nails, grasping for something to hold onto.

And you do take hold, breathing slower, deeper, and gradually the chilliness ebbs away from your limbs and you become aware of yourself again. Aware that your clothing is not suffocating you, aware that the presence of other people and hand-picked flowers in golden vases is not a portent of doom.

When you breathe normally, when you feel like yourself again, his fingers release from your thighs and he slowly pulls you up--his grip not harsh like before, but firm, steady as his voice had been.

You finally have the nerve to look at him, and the awareness to think about what just happened and what he just did and what it all might mean. His lips are thin and pressed together, and he’s not happy, clearly--but he’s not yelling at you, and you don’t feel the too-familiar sensation of electric crackling in the air as you might have expected.

He almost looks relieved. And that scares you, because it makes you feel relieved, too.

After a few moments, he speaks.

“That was unseemly,” he says. His voice is low.

“I…” you begin, but you have no idea where to take your words. It’s not the first time you’ve felt that creeping, overwhelming anxiety--but it is the first time it happened in front of others, in front of Scaramouche himself. Do you make an excuse? Do you try to explain it? Would he even care, if you did? The thought of opening yourself up even the tiniest bit to your husband and being rejected scares you more than the thought of his wrath, so you decide against it.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, lowering your head. The default words you turn to again and again, whenever you make a mistake.

He scoffs, but says nothing further. Instead, he turns and begins walking away, perhaps to see if the guests had remained behind or to give steely orders to the servants, no doubt waiting and worried about the mood he might be in after such an incident.

You begin to follow, dutiful though not eager, but he waves you off as he begins walking through the open doorway.

 “Stay here. I’ll make your excuses, as flimsy as they might be. That is, if my guests weren’t scared away by your little stunt.”

It should hurt. It should sting, to be dismissed like this. But there’s no real force behind the words.

You watch him go. And--not for the first time since he arranged your relationship--you get the uncanny sense that his words are hollow and meaningless. As if he’s heard others say them and he merely repeats them, as if he does what he’s expected, just as you do what you’re expected.

Sometimes you think, and you think it now, that Scaramouche is an actor reciting lines in a play. Rehearsed and nothing more.

each version of yan scaramouche throughout the years is ridiculously clinging in their own strange way. 

as kabukimono, the others at tatarasuna often joke that he follows you around like a duckling. there are practically stars in his eyes whenever you’re so much as mentioned, he’s absolutely smitten. his way of getting closer to you — and staying there — had a rather innocent origin. he just so happened to notice that you dote on him even more whenever he makes a mistake or seems to be struggling with ‘simple’ human tasks. at first, he really was having difficulty with things such as getting dressed and brushing his hair, but over time, he learned to conceal his progress so you would take the time to help him. 

the unknown feeling that blossomed in his chest whenever your fingers brushed or he was close enough to smell the incense on your clothes was divine. he’d come up with any excuse to remain by your side, leaning into his harmless image a little too much, albeit subconsciously. after all, you may not have been so willing to allow a man in your bed just because he claimed his nightmares were making it difficult for him to sleep… but because you think he’s so sweet and lacking any ulterior motive, you don’t even bat an eyelash, gladly opening up the futon for him to lay beside you. he just can’t help himself. there’s nowhere he’d rather be than with you. 

as scaramouche, he has a simple and ineffective formula. keep the doors locked + be the only person you can have verbal interaction with = profit? (there is no profit to be had). you’re so sick of him but he’s there anyway. what makes matters worse is his audacity to act like he’s doing you a favor, spending a few hours of his busy day entertaining someone such as yourself. he says it that way too. word for word. with his nose in the air. you really can’t stand him. this method is what he prefers to utilize by far. sure, there might be some sour feelings on your side, yet it eliminates the risk of you leaving him altogether. he can withstand anything — your glares, the frequent cold shoulder treatment you give him — because it means you’re still there. 

for a person who comes off as greedy as he does, he’s surprisingly content with very little. the slivers of mostly negative attention you give are enough to sustain him, the same way a cactus can survive on very little water. if the balladeer had it his way, he’d always be in your vicinity, but unfortunately, he has constant work as a harbinger. which is why he leaves reminders of his existence on and around you to compensate for his absence. even if he can’t physically be with you, the lingering touches you feel and the marks you see make him impossible to forget. 

as the wanderer, he’s essentially jobless, allowing him twenty-four hours in the day to stick by your side. to make matters worse, the dendro archon herself came to you to ask for your cooperation. lesser lord kusanali has seen how taken with you he is, and after some observation, decides you’d be a good influence on the ‘reformed’ wanderer. lucky you. instead of following you around like a cute duckling, he’s more of a feral stray cat. you’ll ask him if he has anything better to do and he’ll shrug and say not really. trying to throw him off your trail is impossible as well, his ability to track you down is uncanny. he claims that he has a sixth sense for ‘sensing idiots’ every time he catches you. 

in his humble opinion, there’s just nothing more thrilling than seeing every side of you there is to see. he doesn’t want to miss a second. if he isn’t in the mood to chase after you and you try to run away, you’ll end up facing a gust strong enough to knock you off your feet. should he be in a good mood, he’ll catch you. if he isn’t, however… he’ll let you fall over and snicker over your misfortune. his antics to keep you close are mostly bearable, since he doesn’t freeload and offers a decent amount of help in your journeys, whether it be fighting off hoards of monsters or cooking meals. it becomes far more sinister if anyone tries to intrude on what he perceives to be your special relationship, though. 

Yan!Cynari poly

Cyno and Tighnari who were already yanderes for each other, only to stumble on you and catch feelings immediately. Possibly when they go to Mondstadt for the Windblume Festival.

They ask you, a local, for a tour. Cyno has been there before, but briefly and it was a while ago, so he doesn't remember/know much. From the beginning you got some... Off vibes from them, but chose not to say anything. Maybe you might have just been a little bitter because you were still alone on the flagship festival of romance.

Them two flirting with each other while you just sit there like "right in front of my salad?" when you go to Good Hunter.

They do notice your awkward glaces away whenever they get romantic and take it as you being jealous. You do want a relationship, but you do feel like the very awkward third wheel.

Why don't they take care of your problems? They'll have you and you won't be alone ever again. It's a win-win. And Collei can have someone to take care of her and teach her more about Mondstadt.

would you like a new home? (pt. 3.3)

forethoughts: y'all i'm on such an arlecchino down-badness syndrome i'm writing so much and releasing so much. i think after this i'm going to write more short stories w/ father and reader, so it's gonna be like a cumulative story of reader as their adventures as father's child. (spoilers oops)

notes: gn!child!reader, NOT AN X READER READER IS A CHILD!!!

You were still awake when the door creaked open, and Father’s heels clicked against the ground. Father tried to place the tray of food gently on the table, but you could still hear the porcelain hit the wood.

“Are you going to continue to pretend to sleep, or come and eat?” Father had a playful tone to her voice.

Of course Father knew you weren’t asleep.

Father made her way towards you, placing a hand on your head as she ran her fingers through the knots in your hair. “How are you, my dear?”

You sat up, rubbing your eyes. Your head was still pounding from the orphan’s foot, making it uncomfortable to sleep on that side. “I’m okay.”

“Good. Good.” Father looked at your sleepy expression, a soft smile on her face as she petted your head. “Do you know that I would do anything for you, my dear? I treasure you dearly and hold you near my heart.” 

“Y-Yes, Father. I-I do too…”

“Do you?” Father chuckled. “I am very happy to hear that. Especially from you.”

Father kissed the top of your head, before standing up, heading towards the door. “Eat up, my dear. When you finish your plate of food, please come find me in my office. I will be waiting for you.”

Father closed the door behind her, leaving the lights on. Letting out a sigh, you crawled out of bed, hobbling over to the table as you climbed onto the chair, examining the tray of food. Next to the plate of Jueyun Chili Parcels was an envelope with Father’s seal on it. You took the small letter opener Father had gifted you, and carefully opened the envelope. Inside was a piece of paper, filled with a sea of ink. You would rather read the cookbook than this. 

“Adoption… guardian… Arlecchino… Y/N… child…” You picked out words you knew, filling in the blanks with your best guess. The word adoption rang in your head. Adoption? No one ever got adopted ever from the House of Hearth. Father said that this was the place orphans from all over would grow up in and graduate from. Arlecchino… that was Father’s name. You recall overhearing some of the caretakers calling Father Arlecchino. 

Father… plans on adopting me? The thought struck your head, causing the paper to fall out of your hands. You immediately picked it up, eyes scanning the ink. That was literally what the paper saids. On the bottom were two straight lines adjacent to each other. One had Father’s signature on it, while the others was empty. Father… Father truly planned on adopting you. This was actually happening. You searched the envelope, looking for anything else. A note. A small folded piece of paper.

My dear Y/N,

Perhaps this will be the happy ending for the both of us. So would you like a new home, my dear?

Father.

Father. 

Father genuinely planned to adopt you.

Father wanted you to become her actual child.

Was that why Father was always kinder to you?

Was this why Father was always much more lenient and biased to you? 

It was because Father wanted you to be her child?

Her actual child?

You took a deep breath, picking up the first piece of paper instead. Pure adrenaline rushed through your body, thoughts racing through your head as your heart desperately tried to claw out of your ribs. This was happening. Serotonin and joy was the only emotion you could feel; not an ounce of worry or fear in your heart. Why weren’t you scared? Why weren’t you worried? 

Because Father.

Father was the one asking you.

Father was asking you to be her child.

Father was giving you the one thing you craved ever since you gained the ability to comprehend.

A family.

A relationship.

Someone who truly loved you.

A parent.

So how could you ever say no?

A new home.

A new life.

No more loneliness.

No more fear or worry.

No more doubt or anxiety.

A new home. 

With Father.

Arlecchino reclined back in her chair, playing with the pen in her hand. Out of anything she had ever experienced or done in her life, this was the one moment she felt genuine worry about. She could not plan this out. She could not make failsafes or backup plans. This was a reckless action. But the action she desperately wanted to take.

Arlecchino had saw a part of herself in you; that was what drawed you in to her. She saw that kid who never got along with anyone else, that was always lost in their little world. She wanted to give you the support she never had growing up. So she gave you the little perks she never had. She gave you all she wanted when she was your age. 

It was unfortunate she could not find a companion for you.

But everything always works out in the end.

Life always finds a way to piece everything together.

Arlecchino was brought back to reality when she saw one of the doorknobs twist open, your adorable figure entering the room as you hobbled towards her. The letter she had purposefully placed on the tray was in your hands, cut open and the adoption paper on top of the envelope. You climbed onto the chair on the other side of her desk, placing the adoption paper on her desk. 

Arlecchino watched you with a stoic expression, unable to resist a grin as she saw your cute child face look down and fiddle with the hem of your sleeve in nervousness.

“Well?” Arlecchino cleared her throat. “What do you think about my offer?”

“...Yes.” You smiled brightly, nodding your head. “I w-want to be your actual child.”

The corners of Arlecchino’s lips shot up to her eyes. “Come here.”

Arlecchino didn’t even mind you stepping on her desk to leap into your arms, as she wrapped her arms around your back and head tightly, hugging you close to her chest. The warmth in her heart only grew when you reciprocated the hug back, your tiny arms clutched onto the sides of her ribs.

Arlecchino let out a content sigh, a smile on her face. Now she could say the one phrase that held meaning to it. No more teasing. No more playfulness. 

“My child.”

The Last Child of Khaenriah

A Flicker in the Ruins: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 The Abyss That Calls The Stray Star of Khaenri'ah The Bonds of Obsession The Cage They Call Home The Light That Found You, The Shadows That Cling: Part 1, Part 2 MISUNDERSTANDINGS THAT COULD END LIVES The Chains You Cannot Break To Love a Ghost Into the Abyss A Caged Flame – When the Child of Khaenri’ah Grows Up Cursed to be Loved Not Yours A Fractured Star A Hug in the Darkness A Power Unchained

Capitano Specials:

Discipline of Steel Parenting for Dummies: Fatui Edition Capitano's Death: A Celebration Dottore Joins the Party Ding-dong, The Tin Can's Back The Cost of Defiance

Dainsleif Specials:

Dainsleif’s “Totally Legal” Side Hustles Reader (Child) vs. Overprotective Dainsleif: The Struggle

Kaeya Specials:

A Flame's Reluctant Warmth A Reflection or Something Else?

Arlecchino is really THE Yandere platonic, would love for her to be my father-

But how/when do you think is she becoming Yandere ?

As a "father" Arlecchino loves her children, but her love is something that isn't normal. Her love is hard and stern and fiery, but for some of her children, it's the only love they have. So many of them, regardless of the life Arlecchino lives, find themselves attached to her, indebted to her, trapped with her. Many of them, like Lyney and his siblings do genuinely love her, but at least to me, it's more reverence than it is familial love. They love her because she saved them, and now, they have no other choice but to stay with her, but to them it's a sacrifice worth making because they feel as though they owe so much to her.

Anyway, I think she would become obsessed with someone who reminds her of herself in her youth. Someone who is so detached from the rest of the world, someone who is damaged. In a way, I feel like she'd behave like Silco from Arcane, seeing a child who is traumatized and broken, someone she wants to protect from the rest of the world. She takes you in and from the very beginning her relationship with you is different with the rest of her "children." She doesn't send you on missions or even lets you interact with the House of the Hearth at all. She's very protective in a way that is strange to everyone but her.

I don't know this is just first thoughts.

We had zhongli as a big brother, now I'm presenting:

scaramouche as a big brother, and that includes sharing mommy issues

.💭

ah, yes, the shortie with anger and mommy issues himself. anon, be honest, do you actually want this man as your older brother because i'd be concerned (/j).

1) communicating through insults. if there is ever such a thing as an allergy to speech, he'd definitely be allergic to each one besides sarcastic remarks and jibes. that is the language he is most fluent in, alright? deal with it.

2) concern hidden in plain sight. he looks out for you from afar such as dispatching a subordinate to report your status to him without your knowledge or making sure that there's nothing in your way — he plays it off, though. scara claims it's because he "can't trust you for one second", but it really is because he's a little worried that you're getting roped into some stupid trouble.

3) the mommy issues... he'd prefer if you don't, or better, never bring up that god in any conversations with him. he doesn't want to be reminded of her in any way, he doesn't need words of comfort nor can he offer them to someone else, even you. all he can do is to let you deal with them on your own because that is how he deals with his feelings on that wretched event in his history. (wdym sibling therapy sessions? nah, we don't need that <3 /j)

Ehe, for Scara (brainrot is reaching new heights): “So much snark today. Would a hug shut that mouth of yours up? Or better yet… a kiss?”

"... Reprobate."

Scaramouche glaring at you isn’t a new development. You’d say it’s his default manner of expression; if resting bitch face was on performance-enhancing drugs. You take the archaic insult with ease. It’s not the worst thing he’s called you. Lately, you’ve theorized he must’ve taken to studying offensive language for the sole purpose of flinging verbal venom your way. 

Well, if anything, he should be grateful that you’ve motivated him to expand his vocabulary. You’d say you’re welcome if you didn’t value your well-being. However, today just so happens to be a day where your well-being feels marginally worth defending. 

“I’m not hearing a no.” 

He scoffs, his gaze momentarily leaving your form to appraise the surrounding area. Any unfortunate Fatui goon squad souls that happened to overhear this conversation could expect to be court-martialed... or worse. Seeing how his eye will not stop twitching (how uncomfortable is that?), you’re placing your bets on worse. 

“Have you no sense of shame? Forget it, why am I even bothering to ask when I already know the answer,” he runs his hand through his bangs and sighs. Uh oh. You sense a monologue looming on the horizon. “You can’t expect me to acquiesce to your every annoying whim so easily. If I did, there’d be no end in sight. That boundless imagination of yours is such a pain to deal with. Really, the fact I put up with you at all is—” 

The softness of your lips pressing against his cheek serves to put a premature end to his soliloquy.

Stunned by your boldness, twitching fingers come to rest over where your lips made contact with his now flushed skin, disbelief written all over his face. Considering how powerless you normally are, this shift in authority is a welcome one. Enough so that you don’t mind pushing your bruised pride down if it means watching him unravel like this. 

“You—” he points at you for further emphasis, as if you need help identifying who he might possibly be talking to, “You... ahem... missed.” 

“Huh?” 

Scaramouche is grinning now, ear to ear, his face still red yet his ego too formidable for him to concede so easily. 

“My lips. I demand a proper kiss if you’re going to stick to your conniving ways. Come now, try again. Prove to me that there’s something in this world you can do right.” 

(He looks very proud of himself).

“I mean, I would, but, someone recently told me trading affection for favors is shameless behavior. And, y’know, he might just have a point. I’ll have to seriously reconsider my ways.” 

(He no longer looks very proud of himself). 

"... You couldn’t bother me more if you tried.” 

At this, you smile. “Is that a challenge I hear?” 

This is a rewrite of an old fic!

Summary: Upon your creation you are deemed unworthy by your creator; your mother. You are sent hand in hand to face the world of Teyvat and it's challenges until it forces your brother to change forever to protect you...

Pairings: Scaramouche/Kunikuzushi x Sibling!Fem!reader - platonic!

Notes/warnings: Fem reader! Reader is said to somewhat resemble Ei! Spoilers for Scaramouche and Ei's back story, but it's changed in this story! Unhealthy family relationships and dynamics! Child abandonment! Small mentions of death (not reader or Scara!)

Kunikuzushi - as he would later be named, came into this world as a mere experiment into the making of living puppets; created by the Electro Archon Raiden Ei. Due to it being her first time creating a puppet she somewhat tested the limits of it; thus making Kunikuzushi quite different from her, but he still resembled her enough to be recognized as her kin.

She hadn't expected much from the first try, but she was still disappointed that he didn't turn out perfect or the way she had imagined him to be. He was too emotional; too human for her desired outcome. An imperfection in her eyes and thus unfit to be the holder of her Gnosis or rule Inazuma. He was quickly left behind, but not discarded.

This disappointment did not deter her, as she tried again with more knowledge and experience. This time the puppet would be designed and created with her desired outcome in mind. Thus she created you, but even you weren't what she deemed to be worthy. You resembled her like a daughter would resemble their mother and you were not as openly emotional as her first creation, but it wasn't good enough. You weren't good enough in her eyes...

What Ei seeked was a clone-like puppet void of all emotions and humanity so it's judgement or obedience couldn't be clouded by them. All so she could pull it's strings and make it dance while she hid behind the curtain; locked away in the plane of Euthymia for all eternity. Neither of you fit into these standards and thus had no place in her vision of Eternity.

So you were cast out; simply thrown away like used toy's after she finished playing with them. In her eyes this was a kindness, as she "allowed" you to live freely as humans and choose your own path. It was more akin to guilt; like she felt she owed this to you because of her failure's. Perhaps a part of her had that motherly instinct that recognized you two as her children - thus she could never kill you, but neither could she keep you. You would never know for sure..

Together you would stumble throughout the lands of Inazuma as wanderer's, endlessly seeking for something unknown as you had no destination or goal. You were like to newborns that could walk and talk, yet knew nothing of the world you lived in. What were you seeking? A home? Some meaning in life? A purpose? But if your own creator; your own mother could turn you away - what purpose could your life possibly serve?

Throughout your journey you became somewhat known as others saw you as strange and unusual due to your unique clothing and behavior; people would refer to you as the "Kabukimono Twins". Though you weren't twins in reality you never corrected them as telling humans the truth of your nature would not only be difficult, but potentially dangerous for you. "Twins" was simply easier as neither of you aged and some of your features were similiar enough to mistake you two for real twins!

Despite how careful you tried to be, your journey always ended in disaster and heartbreak. Those around you would either betray you or die; though your brother saw their death as another form of betrayal. Especially with the human boy you lived with for a time, he was sick and you all knew this; but he had promised you would be a family - together forever! He was the one who gave you your names, so his death truly changed your lives forever...

You might have not noticed it or tried not to, but all your hardships had forever changed your brother. He became colder, more suspicious and distrusting of others; he would often scare them away with his paranoia. He smiled less and the sound of his laughter became like a distant memory... It saddened you greatly, but it was what he had to do to make sure you would never be betrayed again and to keep you safe.

You were the only one to never betray him and the only constant in this miserable life you lived. He knew he could always count on you to stay by his side no matter what, but he was becoming more paranoid the longer your journey went on. He kept having nightmares of loosing you or you joining with the rest of the world in betraying him. He wouldn't let you do that to him, he couldn't...

In a twisted sense he was glad you were meek and depended on him for almost everything. It greatly lowered the chances of you being able to betray him, unless you were influenced by someone else; which he wouldn't allow to happen. You barely interacted with humans anymore and when you did it was Kunikuzushi who would do the talking for both of you. Either way your own fear of abandonment and betrayal would nake it impossible for you to even consider doing it to someone else, especially him of all people.

As he descended from his hopeful, happy and naive personality; he would come to cherish it in you. He wanted to protect this part of you at all costs, to keep it intact... You could somehow still see the world in that sweet innocent way, even after all you have been through. He couldn't afford to do so anymore or you would be put in danger and be taken advantage of, but it was a sacrifice he was more than willing to make for you.

Somewhere along the line he became obsessed with the thought of gaining the Gnosis of your creator and becoming a God; something Ei thought him to be incapable of being. He wanted to prove her and the entire world wrong! He convinced you that with the Gnosis he would have enough power to protect you from everything; so nothing could hurt you ever again. You of course trusted him wholeheartedly and agreed.

It wasn't long after the boy's death that you were taken in by the Fatui and transported far from the land of your birth to the cold land of Snezhnaya. Things changed much then as he was made the Sixth Harbinger and named Scaramouche or The Balladeer, but he would still have you call him Kunikuzushi in private. You also saw each other much less as he was busy traveling around Teyvat on the Tsaritsa's orders and you were left in the Zapolyarny Palace all alone to wait for him as he couldn't trust anyone else to look after you.

He didn't care for the Tsaritsa or his colleagues, so he wasn't opposed to defending you by any means necessary if needed. They were a nice benefit to furthering his goals of gaining his creator's Gnosis and giving you the life you were deprived of; the life you deserved. You were the light in his darkness, his only reason to go on and he wouldn't let anything take that from him. Even if it meant locking you up with only him to talk to when he was available...

He never let you see this side of him; this new him. You never met Scaramouche The Balladeer, in your eyes he would only ever be your darling brother Kunikuzushi. The Fatui along with it's Harbingers essentially hated and despised him; as he was rude and never in a good mood. He would often yell or shout for any reason and at anyone if they displeased him or simply existed in his presence when he was in a bad mood; which was more often than not. While with you he was sweet and gentle, making jokes and doing menial tasks to keep you entertained like games, art and enjoying tea with snacks.

He was a completely different person when he was with you; you brought out the last piece of Kunikuzushi he had left in him. He would only let you know of and keep this side of him alive. As soon as he left your room he would turn back into the ruthless and cruel Balladeer, but every sacrifice and ounce of blood he had to spill was worth it if it meant he could give you the life you had only ever dreamed of. It was all worth it if he could see you smile and happy while proving to your creator that she was wrong about both of you...

A/N: I've been wanting to rewrite this for a long while now! The original was fine, but I feel my current writing helps to bring out more from the story and make it more alive :D

Feel free to like, comment and or reblog! Any interaction with this post is greatly appreciated <3

currently thinking about 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘥! 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦 and his endless vanity.

𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘥! 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦 who is revered as the lotus-eyed, twice-born born and golden-sighted. all who look at him are mesmerized, and none are those who can afford to resist his endless charm. the very epitome of beauty in masculine vessels, he defines the perfect balance of yin and yang—being as ethereal as they come, and twice as wise.

𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘥! 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦 who puts up the pretense that he never quite feels the need to be worshipped so, being as modest as possible. yet internally, it is through lotus offerings, garlands of roses and lamps and lanterns blue and white that he truly measures his importance in the eyes of the man. the easiest god to please or upset, the lothd eyed god has few vices he does not know to erase. hence is the reason he is revered by all, the kind hearted god.

𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘥! 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦 who takes great pride in the lonesome shrine dedicated to the 'god of all ancient wisdom', and enjoys flittering around in the forests and lakes that surround his shrine from all sides. quiet whispers often go ignored by him, benevolent in godhood as he already is. there's a saying—if you ever spot a purple-haired being with lotuses in his hands and gold on his neck, then be sure to quieten your steps and softly whisper his name. though he won't respond, his gaze will certainly fall upon you. while he doesn't entirely agree with this, he still arguably enjoys the attention this saying gathers him.

𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘥! 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦— and his infatuation when his gaze lands upon you, standing amidst the maidens with gold offerings in your hand as you stared at him through plenilune eyes, your gaze holding wondrous awe. he can't speak, can't avert his gaze, nor can you and both are quite understandable in their place. after all, for a god, occasions of 'love' are few and far between, and even more so with mortals.

𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘥! 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦 who always keeps an eye on all his followers. especially, you, of plenilune gaze and ethereal essence. he loves being pampered in general, always sitting patiently whenever he enters the shrine and the maidens sit him on golden stands and bathe him in flowers.

𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘥! 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦 and the way his gaze pins upon you as you move through the forest, navigating around to reach the lake of lotuses. who knows very well that this is the first time you have left to get lotuses on your own, a cruel order of the head priestess who was upset about his disregard for the prayers of the others. and while he is willing to be more benevolent next time, he ensures to cut down excess bushes and lead you right to the lake, almost confusing as to how easy it was to reach the lake.

𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘥! 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦 who can't help but turn red yet watch helplessly as you slightly lift your waist cloth, revealing the soft skin of your waist, pulling the dagger out and walk slowly into the waters, cutting freshly bloomed lotuses from the water. but his gaze remains pinned to your form regardless, unable to watch anything or anyone except you.

𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘥! 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦 develops a tiny bias towards your prayers then on, always listening a bit keener to them. who can't help but create a situation such that all priestesses leave to attend to the royal family and their transgressions and you're left to look after the shrine. and then he comes in all graces, dressed in gold pieces and pearls white, ethereal looking when your gazes meet.

𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘥! 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦 who laughs slightly when you immediately bow and call him by all his hundred names, amused by your devotion. who desires to speak softly with you, leaving you spellbound with his quiet melody in speech. he is a bit biased you see— it's rare, after all, to see the god being vain but anything other than himself.

𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘥! 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦 and his expectation of finding you at the lake of lotuses every day, getting disappointed should you ever switch duties with anyone. he doesn't give up though. he has his ways, and you can't really escape him if he shows up at the shrine, himself after all. he just ensures to bite back the smile that forms on his features when you place the lotuses on his feet and light his sandalwood incense.

𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘥! 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦 being infatuated with your delightfully mortal charm and the fleeting sense of forbiddenness that you bring. gods and mortals do not mix well—he knows and he also knows that you know too, but it's hard for both to resist when either looks so supple and lovely.

𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘥! 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦 and his love for you, his favourite devotee.