Cupid's Killshot /// Yandere Genshin x Reader

Yan Scaramouche x Reader///Carved From Dreams - Part 1

Summary: 

Slightly inspired by the myth Pygmalion

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

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

word count: 5.8k

------------------------------------------------------

Snezhnaya is cold.

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

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

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

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

Nevertheless, it is something that lasts for an eternity.

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

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

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

You opened your eyes.

Still nighttime. Still too cold.

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

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

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

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

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

___

That summer in Inazuma, it was especially hot.