if you’re still accepting requests, could you do scaramouche and gorou for the bathe au, the xiao one was so cute🥺🥺🥺
authors note ⊱ YES!!!! UR WISH IS MY COMMAND!! a few people have asked for these same two characters so i’m glad i can finally deliver!
part two (albedo, kazuha, xiao)
part four (venti, zhongli)
characters ⊱ scaramouche, gorou
warnings ⊱ completely safe! enjoy!
he is not easily lured into this sort of thing.
intimacy, on it’s own, is a monumental task of will that he often lacks. throw in some vulnerability, and it becomes even worse. your relationship can often feel like an uphill slope, but he’s trying.
it’s this miserable dance he ends up in: one step forward in the right direction, until the fear kicks in, and he’s two steps back where he’s started. this is a thing that needs patience, and time.
most invitations prior to when ‘he’s ready’ often leads him to either turn bright red and flustered, or ghostly white and afraid. even if it starts at the first, it often sours into the latter. no matter how gentle your hands, your eyes, or your smile... he feels too sharp, with rough hands, hollow eyes, and crinkled frowns.
but if you’re the right person, and if you’ve really waited this long, if you’ve really made it this far with him... then he melts.
the thing about walls is they can’t really fall down. you can’t wreckingball your way into scaramouche’s heart, or else any progress you’ve made will quickly backfire. they can only softly crack open, like the moat around the castle has a drawbridge for you to cross.
you never really know when it’s going to happen, but then it does.
you don’t expect him to go with you, this was just you saying, “i’m going to bathe. i’ll be back soon.” it was a courtesy, not an expectation.
but this time, he surprises you. he looks up, hesitates, shrewd eyes narrowing as his mouth subtly moves, but makes no sound. until his throat cracks open, and he finally finds the words, “okay. can i come, too?”
and really, it’s not surprising how nerved-up and rattled he is, the moment he’s there. it doesn’t matter if it’s a warm water bath, or a soft-falling shower, his fingers clench anxiously against his palm, and his mouth sours into an unsteady line.
and the first thing he does?
as the water shrouds around you, he presses himself against you, resting his head against your shoulderblades, his arms curling around you to press you close. you can feel the sharp edge of his cheekbone, the gentle tickle of his lashes against your skin. and then he sighs, deep and warm and so tired, he was always so tired.
“i’m sorry,” he tells you, as if you needed it. you don’t. maybe you do. he does.
bathing with scaramouche is a test of intimacy and vulnerability. but now that he’s here, it’s a little easier. with gentle hands, you can touch him, and with rougher ones, he touches you.
when you soap down his neck down to his chest, and you meet eyes, the gravity of how much he trusts you, and how much he cares for you, truly sinks in.
this isn’t just a bath, this isn’t really about being clean, not that it ever was.
this is about his fragile heart, and how he still lets you hold it between your two gentle hands, in spite of the cracks he has endured, in spite of the shatters that have left it a mangled remnant of what once was whole.
it’s just as likely for you to ask him as it is for him to ask you, but it goes a little like this:
if you ask him, he turns bright red, ears perking up with a sense of alertness as if he’s trying to guess if he’s heard you right. for a moment, he’s frozen solid, flushing and gasping for words. and then his tail starts wagging a mile a minute, eagerly agreeing to join you.
alternatively, if he asks you, he’s a little shy about it. he smiles sheepishly at you, biting his lip as his tail idly swishes side to side, like he’s excited to reveal something to you, but still waiting to see your reaction. when he asks you, he asks it softly, but nevertheless eager. and the moment you accept? well. there goes his tail. he likely doesn’t even notice how hard it’s thrashing behind him.
baths with him are not necessarily intimate, besides the act itself. it’s more like... an affectionate affair.
he’s not drowning you with attention, but he’s eager to please you, enthusiastic about helping you get clean. he immediately wants to scrub your hair himself; all he wants is for you to just lean back into him with all the trust in the world, his fingernails softly scratching at your scalp as the soap foams up along your head.
and maybe you hear his heart skip a little bit when you look up at him with that tender, love-lost look. the type of look that makes him flustered and crumple, a nervous smile wobbling at his lips.
he’s a little self-conscious when you want to touch his tail or his ears, but because it’s you, he’ll generally deny it at first... but then ultimately wants you to touch it, assenting with a flustered look away to your request.
his fur is incredibly soft, especially at his tail. apparently, there’s a pretty strict routine for how he maintains it, but for now... he’s just melting into your hands, spine shuddering with every soft stroke and delicate touch.
he considers bathing with you a relaxing, albeit, nerve-racking affair that ultimately brings him great joy, and allows him the time to fully savor you, soap-bound and watery in his two arms.
