Yandere Scaramouche X You - Tumblr Posts

Yanderes x Manipulative Reader

Imagine knowing exactly how a yandere feels about you. Knowing their love. Their lust. Their obsession. Imagine not being scared. It's a daunting idea at first, that someone can adore you to the point of pure devotion. But it doesn't have to be frightening...

Diluc who knows he's only being used for his money. You only come around when you're low on funds or wanting to buy something expensive. He knows this, yet he still hands you everything in his pockets gleefully. He's well aware of how little you care for him, yet the way your eyes glimmer as he signs his name on the back of a check and hands it to you makes him swoon. Diluc wants more of you. He wants every part of you. He desires you carnally, long past the point of obsession, but the only thing you offer in return to the thousands he spends on you, is a light peck on the cheek. And he finds himself looking forward to spending on you, just for the gentle touch of your lips on his face.

Childe who knows that your saccharine sweet words are nothing more than a ploy, seeing as you look at him in general disgust most times. A harbinger such as himself is awfully powerful, and not only that, but influential as well. He stands along side you as you brag, using his status to get more consumers to your business. But the second his hand snakes around your waist, he watches your smile faulter. You'll kiss him, but only on public. Never has he even held you behind closed doors. Chaste kisses against the lips, lasting only for a second are followed by you practically ignoring him for the rest of the night. While he longs for a little of your attention, waiting for the next taste of your sweetness. Yet he can't pull himself from your hold. He stands there seething with rage as he watches you smile at someone else, knowing that that smile is genuine, compared to the false ones you give him.

Scaramouche who's cold eyes and deathly stare always seem focused on you, yet you don't seem the least bit scared. He's loyal. Like a dog, despite his cat like features, he follows close behind you. It never shows on his face how much he needs you. He never even speaks the words aloud that he'll always always be there for you, but you found out eventually. At your every beck and call, without a moments notice. He does for you what most aren't willing to, the only price is your love. Love that he felt he's been denied for so long. It's no surprise that the second you give him even the slightest bit of positive attention, he's willing to make cities crumble for you. To take lives for your words of affection.

cw: yandere, obsessive and possessive relationships, unhealthy relationships, mdni, minors do not interact, minors dni, yandere cw. the writer does not condone this behavior irl.

Scaramouche, in an AU, is the type to insist on matching stick-n-poke tattoos. If only because he doesn't want anyone else touching you or marking you. He's easily jealous and pretty possessive. He would spend months sketching out ideas and researching because it has to be perfect, it's going on both your bodies and he never settles for anything less.

Of course, you're hesitant because he has no skills in tattooing (though he's done a few on himself, he's never done it on anyone else) but after badgering, pouting, and some arguments, you finally agree.

At least he's kind enough to do it where it can be kind of hidden - your inner wrist - and every time he sees it, he kisses it.

("See? We're connected now. You can never leave me.")

Maids, maids…and even more maids

Being the Maid at a Yandere's Estate

FT: Kamisato Ayato, Childe, Diluc, and Scaramouche

Master Kamisato Ayato is quite the funny man. That's what you'll tell the other maids in quick bits of gossip. He has a surprisingly good type of humor that just falls from his mouth and a very very soft laugh, but of course, you can barely gossip as long as you want to. A ringing of a bell signifies that the master has called for you again, something he's been doing regularly these past few months.

“You're the only one I can trust to clean my quarters,” he told you once before. His quarters being his office and his bedroom. Even though he says that, he never leaves the room while you're cleaning. Rather he's there, pretending to be doing other tasks as you dust his shelves and sweep the floors. You wonder if he thinks that you can't feel his eyes on you? The second you look down, he's looking right at you, practically burning a hole through you with his gaze. It wasn't noticeable at first, but it grew worse the more that he insisted that only you could clean for him personally.

Your daily cleaning for him ends with him patting you on the back, his arms lingering around your waist for a little too long.

“You did incredible, as usual,” he'll praise you, “But don't be shy to come and see me outside of work hours.”

Master Ajax, or Childe as he's referred to by others, is rarely home. You wonder if that humble manor he has in Snezhnaya is just for show. Of course, you seldom get to see it too.

Whispers amongst your fellow coworkers told you that before you were hired, Childe didn't bring anyone with him on his trips. It made you question why you needed to pack your bags every time he was taking a trip to another city, as he insisted that you would come with him and be his personal maid for the duration of it.

He never treated you poorly and never took you anywhere dangerous. You were usually the one just holding down the fort and tidying at whatever inn he decided to stay at. But even you acknowledged the fact that you felt like you were a little too close to your employer. He'd take you out with him, you'd try to trail behind, but he'd make you walk closely at his side. And never once did he correct people when they assumed you were his wife. Actually, if you looked at his face after someone made the mistake, you'd see a smirk forming.

“What's wrong with being married to me?” He would joke, although his smile wasn't reaching his eyes, “I think I'm a pretty good catch. Don't you?”

Master Diluc doesn't leave his office often. The other maids talk in hushed whispers about how they worry that he may be working too much. Seeing him roaming the halls is like seeing a ghost. This also means that he partakes in most of his meals at that desk as well.

He invites you to sit with him one day, saying that he doesn't enjoy eating his meals alone and seeing as he is your boss, you agree. One day turns into nearly every day of your work week, and when asking your coworkers about it, they seem surprised.

“Master Diluc barely speaks to me when I deliver his meals,” one girl says and the other's agree shortly after.

It seems strange to you as you also slowly eat your food across from him. You'd taken to eating your meal as well, even though it wasn't you designated meal time. He assured you that you were still being paid for the moments you sat with him. When you question why you're the only maid that he shares his meals with, a slight grimace crosses his face.

“Does it matter?” He asks you, almost a little too harshly for the gentle Diluc you know, “I'm paying you to spend time with me. Only you.”

Lord Scaramouche who only needs a couple maids. He's rarely home anyways and when he is he doesn't leave his room often, doesn't take to meals, and doesn't call for anything more than a cup of tea. Although even you're surprised when less and less maids show up for their shifts, until it's only you that resides within the walls.

It's rather lonesome when you realize that your only company is now the quiet lord Scaramouche, who barely meets your eyes most days, and when he does speak, he says some form of insult. It's only when you're out for a grocery run that you run into a previous maid of the manor, chatting happily with the first person who'll talk to you.

When asked why they all decided to quit, she tilts her head in complete confusion, “We didn't quit. We were fired, all of us.”

It's a short sentence that confuses you even more. And your walk back to the manor is filled with thoughts. Bringing lord Scaramouche his meal that night, you decided to ask why you were the only help left in his lonesome abode. Assuring him that you're not complaining and that the job isn't too difficult.

“Must you always ask stupid questions?” He spits the words out, “Your presence doesn't bother me like the others so you get to stay. Don't take it for granted.”

Bathing Together

Yandere! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

TW: 18+ MDNI, Yandere themes

It's tradition in Inazuman culture for family and spouses to bathe together, as Scaramouche would tell you. Washing each other's bodies is a sign of affection, respect, and most importantly, trust. Scaramouche wants to trust you. He believes that all good relationships are built up on trust. But he trusts no one, therefore he's never had a good relationship. Not even with you, the person he loves most. That's obviously something he desires to change.

He's allowed you to bathe alone long enough, giving you the space that was recommended by his peers, but he's grown frustrated. Needy even. Desperate for even more of your attention. As if he couldn't monopolize enough of your time already, seeing him during your meals and when you were trying to sleep wasn't enough apparently, he wanted to be present for your baths as well. And not just present, active in them.

He assured you that nothing sexual was going to happen, but you trusted Scaramouche as much as you trusted a frail rope to hold your body. But just like that rope, hanging you over the side of the cliff, you had no choice in whether or not it let you live. You were just waiting for the day it would finally snap and kill you.

So, he bathed with you.

Awkwardly, of course.

You always knew that Scaramouche was not human, but the feeling was mostly subconscious. It was small things like how little he slept or the small amounts he ate, but nothing was concrete. He never told you what he was, it was hard to get him to tell you anything, but it was something that itched in the back of your mind. A kind of uncanniness about him, the way his seemed too perfect, too symmetrical, his beauty so processed and mechanical. His body was no different. Completely hairless from head to toe and thin as well, but as pale as snow or paper, like there was no blood circulating within him.

"Must you stare?" He questioned, his voice holding traces of that bitter annoyance he always expressed, and you looked away.

Sitting on the stool you scrubbed yourself, your arms and chest, trying your hardest to avoid eye contact with him. Much to your surprise, Scaramouche genuinely didn't touch you with longing hands. Rather, he cleaned himself next to you, fully eyes focused on his task at hand, before he stood and walked behind you.

There was no chance to ask him what he was doing, his thin fingers holding a soapy rag were against your back. Not groping you, a thought that made you breathe a sigh of relief, but scrubbing you. You didn't ask him to do such a thing and definitely didn't imply that you wanted the help, but he did so anyways. His hands were firm, but gentle. Pressing down hard enough to clean you, but not enough to hurt.

"Wash mine now," he muttered after pouring warm water down your back.

It wasn't any less tense when you were behind him. Hands on his pale skin, you barely touched him when you cleaned his back. He was warm to the touch though, with a particularly marking on the nape of his neck. Scaramouche didn't register as the type of person who had tattoos, or even enjoyed the process. Yet when you tried to get a closer look, he spoke.

"If you're curious about it, then ask. I've told you about your staring," his voice rung out against the walls of the bathroom, echoing into your ears through the silence.

"No questions, my lord," you stammered, "I was just looking."

You too poured water down his back, signalling that you were finished and he stood, seemingly completely unfazed by his own nudity. His hand was on your wrist, making you follow him into the tub, where the water was steaming and hot to the touch.

You dipped your toe into it to test the heat, then sank into the tub. He sat right next to you, breathing out a sigh that sounded like relieving stress. For a while the two of you say in complete silence, where he looked off into the distance, like he as pondering something.

"You didn't try to kill me," he remarked, a little too nonchalantly for your liking.

"Of course not," you spat back. But that didn't mean that the thought didn't cross your mind. Although, the thought of wringing your hands around his neck and watching the life leave his body was something you always considered, but never acted on.

"You've exceeded my expectations of you then,"

Am soo happy to see your back even if it's just for a short while I hope your doing okey and that everything is good with life and work 😊 i wanted to ask if it was possible how do you think Yan Scara would react if reader got sick ? Would he be worried ? Would he try to tend to them or leave it to the doctors and servants ?

Again thank you so much for taking time for us 💕

My asks are FULL of this exact same question, I'm not joking 😭😭 so I just wrote all of them.

Sick Day

Yandere! x Fem! Reader

Featuring: Diluc, Childe, and Scaramouche

Diluc spent most of his life taking care of himself. Before and after the passing of his father, he was independent to a worrying degree for a young child. So when he got sick, he paid it little mind. He took the proper medicine and if the fever was mild enough, he'd still be sitting at his desk filing his mountains of paperwork. The only indication that he was unwell being the slight rasp of his voice and flush of his cheeks.

But that was because Diluc didn't care much for his own well-being. His body wasn't useful for much other than work, but only he believed that. The day you wake up with a cough and runny nose, mentioning to the head maid that you can't leave the bed because you're so lightheaded, Diluc is in shambles. The second the news makes it to his ears that you're under the weather, he's rushing to your bed chambers, at your side even when you don't want him.

Diluc can't stand the idea of losing you. You can hate him until Teyvat freezes over, it hurts, but at the very least he knows you're well. So the second you fall ill, a part of him feels shame for his inability to protect you, the other feels a visceral fear that you won't be around anymore.

For days you're catered to in bed. Not just by maids, but Diluc too. You're given soft, warm foods and plenty of water. Your temperature is taken three times a day by a doctor, who insists that if you're not awake to eat, you should sleep more to regain your strength. You wondered how much Diluc threatened him to get him to say the same thing over and over.

The day that you're deemed well and cleared to roam the manor freely again, is supposed to be a joyous one for you. As much as you love your room, you were growing sick of the wallpaper and you could only look at the same painting so many times before it frustrated you instead of entertaining. But overbearing Diluc is still around, watching you with worried eyes and begging you to take breaks to rest after every three steps you take.

Ajax is the epitome of an old wife when it comes to health remedies. With all of his siblings, some of which he ended up taking care of as he got older, he picked up a thing or two from the way his mother cared for him when he was sick. Her remedies, while strange to those from other countries, always had him in tiptop shape in a day or two.

It didn't help that you didn't hail from Snezhnaya. Liyue got cold, but even the hottest day in Snezhnaya was colder than the coldest in Liyue. Your body would have to acclimate to your new climate, meaning that even if he tried to keep you warm at night with the fireplace roaring and many blankets, all it would take was a little Snezhnayan air tickling your nostrils to make you wake up with a cold.

Using what his mother taught him and what her mother taught her before, he woke you up from your sleep when he noticed your runny nose and tears in your eyes. Pressing a hand against your forehead to check your temperature, all while your dreary eyes slowly blinked, wordlessly begging for more sleep.

“You'll rest soon, my angel, but I need you to drink this first,” Childe spoke in the softest voice he could muster, so as not to intensify your headache.

He knew something was wrong with you, the way you took the cup from his hands and downed without batting an eye. The little grimace your face made when the vodka hit your tongue was cute, but he tried not to get lost in your features while you were still sick and needy for assistance. His mother did a lot of things when he fell ill, but a shock of vodka was always the first, you were out cold after swallowing it down.

Despite his love for you, Ajax doesn't worry when you're sick. He believes that sickness is just one of the many battles of life and that there's no way you won't succeed in conquering it. Even after you're better, Childe insists that the two of you do some light exercises together. You can complain that it's your first day healthy, but he won't listen. Strengthening your body will keep you from getting sick again.

Even though he's lived for hundreds of years, Scaramouche doesn't quite understand the human body. Improper conditions for a prolonged time will just make you cease to work? And in the most inconvenient way possible as well? It's annoying and far too inconvenient.

Or, that's what he told himself. But when he looks over at you that first morning when you're sick, sweay pooling on your forehead and seemingly unable to breathe, something tugs at his heart. He feels something for you, watching as even in your dreams you're writhing in pain. Scaramouche feels pity. He assumes it's something he can only feel towards you because his heart sings for you.

“What are you doing?” Scaramouche questions a maid who he bumped into in the hallway.

Even though she carried a bowl of water in her hands, she still found a way to bow, “I received news that the Lady has a fever, my lord. A towel soaked in cold water on her forehead will help break it.”

He hummed. He'd heard of such things, but never thought that he himself would see them being used. A sense of urgency took over him when he realized that this would help you though, a need to be the one doing it for you.

“She'll be more comfortable with someone she's familiar with. Let me do it,” he ordered while snatching the bowl from her hands.

She opened her mouth to question him, but he shot her a glare before she could. He marched back to his room promptly, kneeling beside you as you slept. As the maid said, the cool towel did work. You seemed less pained when he placed it on your forehead.

After that moment, Scaramouche insisted he be the one doing everything for you while you were sick. Feeding you ginger soup, changing your blankets, nursing you back health without any assistance. All because he assured everyone that you'd be more comfortable with him doing it, although you rarely even opened your tired eyes the entire time you were getting better, so you had no idea who was cradling you in their arms and insisting you eat more.

When you're better, you're under the assumption that the maids are the ones who helped you, knowing that while you're sick you're practically comatose. But they insist that it wasn't them, saying that Lord Scaramouche himself cared for you and stayed by your side the entire time.

He'll never admit it though, brushing you off by saying something along the lines of, “Why are you saying such stupid things?”