#scaralyney

[kusuguricafe]

Tickletober Week 1: Hypnosis

ScaraLynLumi Part 1 of 2

A/N: Semi-inspired by this and this, and I used a lot of the hypnosis dialogue from this video because I wanted to make it at least somewhat realistic

Summary: Lumine takes Wanderer to see Lyney and Lynette's magic show and Wanderer gets more than he bargained for

Characters: lee!Wanderer, ler!Lyney, spectator Lumine

“Have you ever wondered what the Knave’s children are up to these days?” Lumine asked Wanderer.

“No, why do you ask?”

“Well… I want to take you to see a magic show tonight.”

“A magic show?” Wanderer scoffed, “Why would I ever want to see something as childish as that?”

“Oh, c’mon, don’t be like that. Lyney’s an amazing magician. It’ll be fun!” Lumine insisted.

“Fine, whatever.”

Later that evening, Lumine and Wanderer arrived at the Opera Epiclese. A few steps into the building, Lumine thought she heard someone calling out to her.

“Psst. Lumine!”

There it was again.

“Over here!”

“Lumine, someone’s trying to get your atte- where’d she go?” Lumine had suddenly vanished from the spot she had been standing.

“WhaA!” Lumine yelped as she was pulled off to the side.

“Hello, my dear~ Come to see my show tonight?” Lyney greeted her, taking off his hat and bowing.

“Oh, h-hello, Lyney. Yes, with my friend Kasacchi, who’s probably looking for me now.” Lumine shot him a look.

“I just wanted to have a private chat with you before the show. Is that so wrong?”

Lumine rolled her eyes, unable to stop herself from smiling. “No, no, it’s fine. Just make it quick.”

After their little conversation, Lumine caught up with Wanderer.

“There you are, where in Teyvat did you go?”

“Lyney pulled me aside. He upgraded our tickets to VIP,” Lumine said, waving the tickets in front of him. “We’re in the front row.”

“I see.”

The two took their front row seats, waiting in anticipation for the show to begin.

“Welcome to Lyney and Lynette’s Magic Show!” Lyney greeted the audience, briefly making eye contact with both Lumine and Wanderer.

“We have a very special show planned for you all today. I am going to try out something new, something I have never done on stage before!”

The audience muttered in excitement.

“Now, I will let the Fateometer decide our lucky audience member. And don’t worry, you can always decline and I will pick someone else. Lynette, if you please…” Lynette brought out the Fateometer (which was really just her hat) and placed it center stage. The hat seemingly levitated on its own.

“Let’s see what the Fateometer decides,” Lyney said.

The Fateometer began to shake, spewing out streamers, confetti, and a singular playing card. Lyney caught said playing card and showed it to the audience.

“Now, everyone please check under your seats. If your card is the seven of hearts, please make your way towards the stage!”

“Aw, I got the Ace of hearts. What about you, Kasacchi?”

“Uh…” Wanderer looked at his card in disbelief. “I got the… seven… of hearts.”

“Did I hear that right?” Lyney turned to Wanderer excitedly.

Wanderer stood up and put his hand on his hip. “You did.” He flipped the card around so that it was facing Lyney.

“Wonderful! Step on up.”

Lynette walked off the stage down to where Wanderer was standing and offered her hand.

Wanderer looked to his left over at Lumine. She gave him an encouraging double thumbs up. “You’ll be fine! I can watch your hat for you, if you’d like.”

“Fine,” Wanderer took off his hat and handed it to Lumine. He then reluctantly took Lynette’s hand and followed her back up onto the stage.

“Everyone give a warm welcome to our lucky audience member!” Lyney gestured towards Wanderer. “Kasacchi, was it?”

Wanderer looked somewhat surprised. “How do you know that?”

“A little birdie told me,” Lyney smiled.

Lynette brought out a comfortable-looking red velvet armchair and motioned for Wanderer to take a seat. Wanderer did so, crossing his arms.

“Now, Kasacchi, are you alright with a little hypnosis?”

Wanderer raised his eyebrows. “Hypnosis? Yeah, like that’ll ever work on me.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Knock yourself out.”

Lyney chuckled. “Remember, you’re ultimately the one in control here. If you start to feel uncomfortable, you can wake yourself up at any time. Understand?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Wonderful. Now, I am going to have you focus on my dear sister Lynette’s pocket watch here.” Lynette held up the pocket watch a few inches in front of Wanderer’s eyes. “Just focus on the rhythm as it sways from side to side.”

Wanderer did so.

“Now, I want you to take some deep breaths. In for four, hold for seven, and out for eight. Got it? Good, let’s do it together. In, two, three, four, hold, two, three, four, five, six, seven, out, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Good, and again. In, two, three, four…”

This isn’t too bad so far, Wanderer thought. It’s actually kind of relaxing.

“You start to feel your body getting heavy, this deep relaxation making it harder and harder to move.”

Wanderer leaned back into the chair. His arms relaxed, slowly falling into his lap.

“You feel your mind getting lighter. You have nothing to worry about. Just let yourself enjoy it. Slowly, you feel your eyelids start to get heavier. Allow yourself to relax. You don’t have to think anymore, I will take care of everything for you.”

Lumine was already impressed. She had never seen Wanderer in such a relaxed state before.

“Now, every time I snap my fingers, you may close your eyes. But, every time I say so, you have to open them again. Okay, here we go.” Snap. “Close your eyes, just for a moment. And, open again, just like that.” Snap. “Very good. And open again.” Snap. “And again. Perfect. It feels so good to close them, doesn’t it?” Snap. “Just enjoy it. Open your eyes again for me. Every time you have to open your eyes, it becomes harder and harder.” Snap. “But you can do it a few more times, right?” Snap. “Try to open them once again.” Snap. “So sleepy now, barely able to open them.” Snap. “Deeper.” Snap. “And deeper.” Snap. “Relax. Your eyes are so heavy, you can’t open them anymore. But you don’t want to. You just want to rest.”

Lynette stepped to the side, allowing the audience a full view of Lyney and Wanderer. The audience looked on with bated breath.

“Focus on how relaxed you feel. I’m going to count down from ten to one. When I get to one, you will be fully entranced. Ten. Sinking deeply now. Nine. You are breathing slowly and deeply… Three. You don’t have to be awake anymore. Two. Almost there. And, one. Sleep. Sink down. Just relax. Sleep. Sleep deeply. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. There you go.”

Wanderer did indeed look like he had fallen asleep.

“Now, let’s have some fun, shall we?” Lyney turned to the audience and winked.

“Wave your hands like this to cheer,” Lynette instructed, waving both her hands back and forth. “We don’t want to wake him.”

The audience waved their hands excitedly.

“Kasacchi, would you happen to be ticklish?”

Wanderer, with his eyes still closed, smiled softly.

“Did you see that, everyone?”

The audience murmured, a few giggling.

“Now, Kasacchi, you begin to feel a pleasant tingly sensation spread throughout your body. Starting at your scalp, trailing all the way down your spine. It feels wonderful. You let this pleasant feeling wash over you, and you become even more relaxed.”

Wanderer smiled a little wider.

“Very good. Now, you feel something a little funny on the tips of your ears. This funny feeling is almost electric, an electric tingly sensation that begins to spread all over your ears. You realize that this is a very ticklish sensation and, oh, it really tickles, doesn’t it? It tickles a lot. In fact, every time I say the word tickle, it starts to tickle a little more.”

Wanderer nodded.

“The ticklish feeling spreads down your neck and under your arms.”

“Mrrmph. Mmhmhmhehehehe!” Wanderer hugged himself.

“It travels down your arms onto your palms, and down your torso onto your sides. You can’t help but laugh.”

Wanderer giggled, squirming in his chair.

“It starts to tickle your hips, slowly creeping down to your thighs.”

“NahahAHAhAhahAA! NohohohohoAAHAHAhahAHA!”

“The ticklish feeling starts to tickle your thighs, making sure to pay extra special attention to your inner thighs and right above your knees.”

“AhahahahAHAHA! NohohOhohooOAHAHAHAHAHA! NohohaAHAHAHAHAHAT thehehehERAAAAHAHAHAHA!!”

Wanderer was full-on laughing now, kicking his legs and shaking his head.

“It feels so good to laugh, doesn’t it? Just let it all out.”

“IhihihIT TIHIHIHICKLES AHAHAHAHAHA!!”

“The ticklish feeling starts to spread all over your knees and down to your feet. The harder you laugh, the more good you feel. Just let yourself enjoy it.”

The audience was laughing along with Wanderer at this point.

“IHIHIHI-AHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Tears of joy pricked the corners of Wanderer’s eyes. He couldn’t deny it—this felt amazing.

“It continues spreading all over your body, finally reaching your toes. It tickles under and in between your toes, going over every little spot it can find.”

Wanderer kicked his feet even harder, slamming his right fist against the armrest.

“Tickle tickle, Kasacchi. Tickle tickle tickle~ You’ve never felt more ticklish in your entire life, and it feels so, so good. You don’t want it to stop.”

“Tickle tickle tickle~” Lynette joined in.

“You look so cute, Kasacchi!” Lumine exclaimed, doubting he could even hear her over the sound of his own laughter.

“LuhuHUMIHIHIHIHIHIHINE! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP! NohohAHAHAHAT THAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!”

Lyney snickered. “Ah, he must be dreaming about our lovely Traveler who’s in the audience with us today. Lumine must know all of your tickle spots, doesn’t she, Kasacchi?”

He nodded frantically.

Lumine flushed. I guess he could hear me, she thought.

“You can hold out a little longer though, can’t you? Tickle tickle~ Tickle tickle tickle tickle~!”

Wanderer laughed, shaking his head and thrashing about, but never resisting. He laughed more freely than he had ever laughed before. He laughed so hard that his laughter went completely silent.

“Aaand, sleep.” Lyney said.

Wanderer fell limp almost instantaneously, still smiling and breathing heavily. He looked peaceful.

“Easy now, catch your breath. I am going to count up from one to ten. When I reach ten, you will wake up, and you will no longer be in trance. One…”

Wanderer felt a bit dazed. The first thing he saw when he woke up was Lynette offering her hand. He took it, slowly standing up. He felt a little lightheaded.

“Everyone, please give a big round of applause for Kasacchi! You were an amazing participant. Lynette will guide you back down to your seat.”

Confused, Wanderer followed Lynette back to where Lumine was sitting. Lumine handed him his hat, which he immediately took, put on, and tilted downwards to cover his face.

Lynette joined back up with Lyney on stage and they continued with the rest of their show.

“What… happened?” Wanderer eventually asked Lumine.

“I’ll tell you after the show. How do you feel?”

“Weirdly… warm and fuzzy.”

Lumine peeked under his hat to see his blushing face. “Warm and fuzzy, huh?”

He looked away. “Sh-shut up. It’s disgusting.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

[pettyrgeo]

behind the curtains,,,

[parkaknight]

solitaire

[adolescenceknight]

[scarilho]

I draw scaralyn... A lot :3c

[emodoer]

[ultimatetattletale]

How about.... Lyney x Scaramouche??? 😁😁

[wooliguns]

1.

he’s got glitter for skin my radiant beam in the night i don’t need no light to see you shine…

Scara grips his paintbrush, twirling it absentmindedly as he listens to his dorm mate, Venti, rummaging around like a squirrel searching for hidden acorns. Venti is supposedly getting ready for some festival in town—another excuse to throw a house party because, naturally, that’s what jocks do. And, bewilderingly enough, Venti has somehow become one of those jocks. It’s odd, really, considering he’s friends with Scara, who would rather endure a long lecture on cauldron-bottom thickness than attend a party. They’re polar opposites in every way.

Jocks—they’ll seize any chance to blow money on social gatherings, probably under the delusion that it somehow elevates their status or brings them closer to enlightenment. Scara has never understood the allure. It’s all noise to him, background static that he’d rather tune out.

Not that he’s averse to a good drink. Far from it. He enjoys the slow burn of alcohol, the way it dulls the edges of reality and makes everything seem just a little less sharp. But as he’s grown older, he’s found himself more drawn to quiet moments, the kind that wrap around you like a warm blanket. Especially after getting a taste of it. For three blissful years, he lived with his ex-boyfriend after dating for—well, their entire lives, really… But that chapter has long since closed.

“Scara, what are you doing? Are you getting ready or what? We’re leaving in half an hour! Please tell me you’re not—”

The door to his room swings open with a bang, and there stands Venti, looking every bit the part in a powder blue button-up with long sleeves, beige shorts, and white sneakers. His usual twin braids are loose tonight, adding to the air of casual cool he’s trying to pull off. Venti’s face is a mask of irritation, his brows knitting together, lips set in a pout that’s both exasperated and endearing. Meanwhile, Scara hasn’t budged from his spot in front of the easel, staring blankly at a white canvas that seems to mirror his lack of enthusiasm.

“Hey… I told you, I don’t want to go. I don’t even know anyone there.” It’s a half-truth. He knows plenty of people. He just doesn’t have the slightest desire to mingle.

“You don’t want to go? What do you mean you don’t want to go? I’m not taking no for an answer, Scara, not this time,” Venti declares, his tone brooking no argument. He strides over, snatches the paintbrush from Scara’s hand, and sets it aside with the other neglected art supplies gathering dust. Then, without warning, he grabs Scara’s hand, pulling him off the tall chair and steering him toward the bathroom. As Scara opens his mouth to complain about the lack of a towel, Venti chucks one at him that lands square on his face.

“Venti…” he groans, peeling the towel off with a sigh.

“Just take a quick shower, alright? Furina’s on her way to meet up with her friends, and they’re all meeting up with us. If we’re late and she starts nagging, my night’s shot. I just want to have some fun! You know how much of a prima donna she is—it’s exhausting.”

“She is.”

“Exactly! So please, don’t make this harder than it has to be, okay?”

“‘Kay…” Scara mutters as he shuts the bathroom door. He turns on the shower, letting the water run for a moment as he stares at his reflection. He genuinely doesn’t want to go, especially if Furina is going to be there.

The girl’s a bona fide brat, she’s annoying, insufferable, and utterly impossible to read. Half the time, Scara can’t tell if she’s being sincere or if she’s just messing with him. She’s a royal pain in the ass, friend or not. Ever since she and Venti got together, she’s been showing up unannounced, turning every day into a test of patience, forcing Scara to retreat to his room just to escape her endless prattle. And now Venti expects him to be excited about meeting her friends (who she’s probably blackmailed into coming)? Brilliant.

In truth, Scara has never actually met any of those so-called ‘friends’ who have somehow fallen for Furina’s despicable charm—he’s only heard stories about them, and frankly, he couldn’t care less. They’re not his kind of people. Venti, on the other hand… Venti isn’t usually like this. Not to him, anyway. Normally, Venti would leave Scara to his own devices, trusting him to know what to do and what not to do, confident that he could handle things on his own.

But lately, Scara has been proving him wrong, and tonight might just be the last straw. He hasn’t left the dorm in over a week, and he’s pretty sure he’s starting to merge with the furniture. Venti’s probably reached his limit. I refuse to have a recluse for a friend! Venti had joked three days ago. Or at least, Scara thought it was a joke. Who knows anymore? All he knows is that Venti’s words hit a little too close to home, probably because they’re true. He is becoming a recluse, all because of…

Scara pushes the niggling thoughts away and lathers up his hair with shampoo, realizing he’s nearly out. A wave of melancholy washes over him—just like that. He smiles to himself, a sad, twisted little smile. How pathetic, he thinks. Imagine being brought to the brink by a damn bottle of shampoo. Despite its generous size, he’s almost finished it. It just goes to show how long Kazuha has been gone. This was, after all, Kazuha’s shampoo he’s using, a small remnant of a life that once was. The shampoo hasn’t been replaced because the person who used to buy it isn’t here anymore. It’s just Scara now, alone with his stubborn unwillingness to move on.

He returns to his room once he’s done showering. Done freshening up and crying a little.

Back in his room, he rummages through his wardrobe, instinctively reaching for the darkest clothes he owns, which, unsurprisingly, is pretty much everything. Black vintage band shirt, navy blue windbreaker, black shorts, and black socks. Black choker, black bracelets, black wristwatch. It’s like he’s raiding the wardrobe of a gothic mortician.

To finish the look, he wears his bright green kicks just to feel something.

He runs a comb through his still-damp hair, glancing at himself in the mirror. The bags under his eyes are more pronounced than ever, a testament to the countless sleepless nights he’s endured lately. No matter what he does, no matter how hard he tries, his body just refuses to shut down. And he knows exactly why.

How can he sleep when the space next to him feels so biting and vacant and… he’s rambling again. He shouldn’t be thinking about this, it’s just meaningless now. His brain isn’t looking forward to dreaming when his dream has long slipped away from his fingers. Nightmares visit him more frequently and he’d rather have dark circles around his eyes than get that much-needed sleep. It hurts. He’s tired of it—of hurting. Even though he doesn’t think he’s cried enough. He’s still equipped with lots of it, just waiting for better timing to spill any moment.

“I’m ready,” he tells his friend, fidgeting with his plethora of earrings as he chews on the lip ring at the corner of his mouth. He’s feeling self-conscious in front of Venti and he hates it.

Venti gives him a quick once-over with that annoyingly contented smile of his, like dragging him out of his cave is some kind of heroic act. Then they’re heading down to his car, and Scara, without a word, slides into the backseat. Venti whines, as expected, about looking like an Uber driver, but Scara can’t be bothered. The backseat feels safer somehow, a little bit removed from whatever mess they’re driving into. He already knows he’s going to hate every second of it.

Of course, Venti has a million friends at their university—how could he not? He’s a popular jock dating the queen bee herself. Furina, also known as Focalors, has been Venti’s girlfriend for the last eight months, and the whole thing was the scandal of the century. Venti and Furina? It sounded ridiculous. Everyone thought Venti was as gay as they come, what with his roster of exes: Xiao, the beautifully chaotic disarray; Aether, the golden boy with a heart of gold; and, to top it all off, their ex-professor Diluc Ragnvindr, who was basically a walking bank vault with brains.

Then, out of nowhere, Venti’s dating a girl. And not just any girl, but Furina—a total 180 from his previous type. Yeah, it threw people for a loop, Scara included. For a hot second, he’d forgotten Venti is bisexual, which, to be fair, is on him. Sue him for not keeping track of his friend’s love life while drowning in his own turmoil.

Thinking about all this makes Scara’s head hurt. Venti’s… Venti. There’s no putting him in a box, no figuring him out completely. Just when you think you’ve got him pinned, he throws you another curveball. Scara could respect that—if he wasn’t so damn tired of surprises. But who’s he kidding? He’s a walking paradox himself, a contradiction in every sense. Maybe that’s why they’re still friends. Or maybe that’s why they’re both so fucked up.

…Given that Venti and Furina are basically royalty at their school, it makes sense that they’re always surrounded by the ‘cool kids.’ So, when Venti parks at some rundown gas station with an even more rundown diner attached—apparently the meeting point for Furina’s little clique—it’s no shock to him that he’s about to be crammed into a car with faces he only knows from the school paper. Seeing them in person feels like some kind of cosmic joke.

From inside the car, Scara can already feel the tension radiating off the group as they stand around in the biting winter cold, waiting for him and Venti. Not that he thinks they’re waiting for him, specifically. He doubts half of them even know he exists.

First, there’s ‘Monsieur’ Neuvillette, a guy so aloof and above it all that even spotting him on campus is a feat. He’s one of those people who only hangs out with the elite or the lucky few who’ve somehow scored an invite to his inner circle. Knowing where he spends his time takes more detective work than it should—unless you’ve got a direct line to the latest gossip.

Then there’s Clorinde and Navia, the school’s most talked-about lesbian couple. They’re rarely seen on campus, which only adds to their mystique and the ongoing rumors. Still, they make the rounds at every big party, where they’re practically worshipped for being so effortlessly cool and, well, absurdly attractive. Everyone wants to be them, or be with them, or just bask in their glow for a second.

Dahlia, Charlotte, and Chiori are a different story. These three are the social butterflies, always smiling, always friendly, and always in the middle of every event worth attending. If there’s a commemoration, a fundraiser, or some other campus event, you can bet they’re there, soaking up the attention.

Of course, Furina fits right in with this crowd. And, of course, Venti’s right there with them, thriving in the mayhem. And then there’s Scara, sitting in the backseat, feeling like a complete outsider. He’s out of his depth, and he knows it. These aren’t his people; this isn’t his scene. But here he is, stuck with them anyway, all because he let Venti tow him out of his room. He’d laugh if it didn’t feel so utterly pathetic.

At this point, Scara just wants to go home, back to his disorganized, unkempt room, and call it a night. The idea of curling up in his disrupted sanctuary, far away from the polished perfection of Furina and her entourage, is almost enough to make him bolt. But, well, they’re here now, so there’s nothing he can do about it. He’s already committed to this miserable social circus, and there’s no escape in sight.

“Hello, darling,” Furina’s high-pitched voice chirps as she greets Venti, meeting him halfway for an embrace that looks more like a scene from a cheesy rom-com than real life. Scara rolls his eyes, trying to blend into the background, which is hard when you feel like a neon sign screaming, I don’t belong here. Anyway, Furina pouts up at Venti, poking a perfectly manicured finger at his chest. “You’re late.”

“Am I? I thought I wasn’t,” Venti murmurs, his arms snaking around her waist in a way that makes Scara feel like he’s intruding on something private and unnecessarily theatrical.

Furina tugs on Venti’s collar, and Scara fights the urge to gag. “But you are.”

A grunt from behind the couple draws everyone’s attention—Neuvillette, with his deep, commanding voice, chimes in, “What matters is they’re here now, so let’s just go.”

“They?” Furina’s head tilts, her gaze shifting until it lands on Scara. Her blue and green eyes—those heterochromatic jewels—bore into him with surprise. The rest of the group’s attention follows, their eyes all zeroing in on him like he’s the latest curiosity on display. He crosses his arms over his chest, shifting his weight back a step, trying to shrink away from their collective stare. Then, “Oh, you brought Scaramouche along! That’s wonderful, babe!” Furina exclaims, throwing her arms around Venti’s shoulders and pulling him close for a kiss. Venti giggles like a high schooler, totally enraptured by her antics.

Scara exhales a sigh—quietly, so as not to offend anyone. Internally, he’s screaming. He wants to get the hell out of here, to escape the suffocating swirl of Furina’s exuberance and the relentless spotlight that seems to follow her everywhere. He can’t deal with her theatrics; she’s too much, too loud, too everything. Maybe that’s why she and Venti work so well together—they’re both ridiculous in the most flamboyant ways possible. And maybe, just maybe, that’s why Scara feels so out of place, standing on the fringes of their orbit, wondering why he ever let himself get pulled in.

Gliding his eyes away from the cheesy couple, Scara’s breath catches in his throat when he sees someone he doesn’t often see—or, well, at the very least, wasn’t expecting to see tonight. Not around this group of people, and certainly not this guy, who he’s never managed to bump into on campus, aside from the few times they shared classes. That was last year, and they don’t share any classes now—not that Scara knows of.

But they never spoke before, not once, despite all those chances. Despite sitting so close to each other back then. Despite the way their paths crossed and diverged, orbiting but never quite colliding.

Come to think of it, this is the first time Scara’s seen him in a whole damn year. He was pretty sure the guy didn’t transfer out or disappear, so what happened to him? It’s like he vanished from the face of the earth, only to reappear now… And why is he mulling this over?

God, can this night be any more random? Not that it’s worse than wanting to die all the time, but still, the universe has a twisted sense of humor.

Tearing his gaze away from his former blockmate—and those hazy purple eyes that, annoyingly, could rival his own—Scara turns on his heels, marching back to Venti’s car. He needs more than a few moments of solidarity, away from the overly vibrant crowd. He’s not going to say a word to them. He’s decided. He’s entitled to stay mute, to wallow in his silence. Besides, what is there to say? A boring hello? No, thank you.

Right now, all he wants is for this night to be over so he can go home and back to sulking in peace. He’s not done mourning, after all, and being here is a mistake he’s not eager to repeat.

**

Much to Scara’s chagrin, the inevitable happens. He’s squashed into Venti’s cramped car with the stars of the night, and the entire ride to the party is a miserable squeeze between Lyney—his former blockmate, of all people—and Charlotte. He rolls his eyes so hard he can practically see his brain. This shit sucks. The only silver lining is that everyone in the car smells good, like, really good. Luxurious even. Lyney, in particular, smells divine. But Scara would rather gouge out his own tongue than admit that.

No wonder Furina demanded they be there early; they needed another car just to avoid packing in like a bunch of sardines. Apparently, one of them let their car be borrowed by someone already at the venue, so Venti, ever the helpful idiot, was their knight in shining armor. Obviously, Venti agreed without even caring to let Scara in on the plan. If Scara had known, he wouldn’t have tagged—

Oh.

Right. That’s exactly fucking why.

Fine then, maybe Venti was smart to hide it from him, but that doesn’t mean Scara isn’t allowed to be a bit pissed about it. This whole situation just makes him want to disconnect even more, to spite them all. Screw formalities. Venti can’t talk him into playing nice now, no matter how much he pleads. The night’s already ruined.

As soon as they reach the party, Scara is itching to get out of the car, to be free of the tight spot he’s been wedged into. He waits for Lyney to climb out first so he can follow, but when the guy offers a hand like some true gentleman with those annoyingly kind eyes, Scara brushes it off and gets out on his own. He straightens his outfit, runs a hand through his hair—which is now fully dry and still smelling strongly of his ex’s shampoo—and locks eyes with Lyney again. The guy just leers at him. No words pass between them, and Scara can’t bring himself to return the smile. He’s way too ticked off for that.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his windbreaker, he prepares to face the bustling, jam-packed area filled to the brim with college party-goers. People are chanting something stupid to cheer on a peer-pressured guy chugging a barrel of draft beer, or laughing like hyenas at another dumb comment from a burly kid in a varsity jacket who’s waving a blue solo cup around, risking spilling the contents on unsuspecting passersby. Scara stops mid-step when Venti jogs up to him, looking all too pleased with himself.

He can’t help but think this night is going to be a disaster.

“Hey… So, we’ll be meeting up with more people inside. As it turns out, Furina’s friends from overseas arrived this afternoon and she invited them. I know you don’t like people much, so I’m not sure if you would want to—”

“Don’t worry about me, Venti. Go. Just—go with them and have fun, okay? I’ll be fine. I’ll grab myself some drinks, and find a spot. It’ll be great,” Scara says, cutting him off. Venti looks at him, all apologetic, like a puppy that’s been scolded for eating the last cookie.

Venti pouts. “Sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Okay. Just, maybe text me if you need anything?” Venti asks, his jade eyes gleaming with concern, like Scara’s some sort of delicate flower.

Scara nods, rolling his eyes a little but trying not to show it. “Will do, Ven.”

With a bright, final beam, Venti heads off with Furina and the rest of their associates, disappearing into the pulsating heart of the party. Meanwhile, Scara stays back, lingering at the fringes of the havoc. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he surveys the scene around him. The crowd is dense, smoke hangs in the air like a fog, and there are games and laughter in every corner. More cars pull up by the curbs, unloading more bodies, more noise, more everything.

His hands clench into fists in his pockets, fingers brushing against the round metal thing buried there. His phone, rings, and a lighter—all the essentials. I’ll be okay, he tells himself, trying to believe it.

It’s only been a couple of months since he swore off these kinds of scenes, but it’s not like he’s a stranger to them. He partied hard in his second year, was once the life of the party like Venti and Furina. But now, he’s grown out of it, lost touch with whatever it was that made him want to dance, flirt, and have fun.

So, what now? He can’t just bail when they’ve only just gotten here. Maybe he should start with a drink. Yes, that’s a plan. Grab a drink, find a quiet corner, and light up a cigarette or two. He’ll survive this, somehow.

He makes his way toward the house, weaving through the throng of people, and manages to find the kitchen, where the drinks are. He didn’t see Venti or any of Furina’s friends on the way there, which is just as well. But as he reaches the kitchen, he bumps into Chongyun, Yoimiya, Hu Tao, and Keqing, who all look at him like he’s a ghost.

“You came! Yo, guys! Scara is here!” Yoimiya practically shouts, drawing unwanted attention to him.

“Scara? You mean, Scaramouche who’s been MIA for a year?!” Hu Tao exclaims, eyes wide in mock surprise.

A year? She’s exaggerating.

Laughter. “Not a year, you dummy! A month, more like!”

There’s laughter, light and teasing. “Not a year, you dummy! A month, more like!”

Scara sighs, his patience wearing thin. “Okay, okay. I get it! I haven’t been going out lately. Happy?” He rolls his eyes and pushes past them, determined to continue with his mission of finding a drink.

He just wants to get through this night without losing his mind. That’s all he asks. Sheesh.

Scara takes two bottles of beer from the fridge, noticing they’re mixed with vodka, as the label boldly declares. The combination promises a quick, potent buzz—exactly what he needs. He pushes his way through the swarm of bodies in the foyer, each step a ploy through an anarchic sea of dancers and drunk party-goers, their movements dictated by the thumping beat from the DJ in the corner. The whole scene is a frenzy of sound and flashing lights, people screaming and gyrating as if trying to outdo each other in sheer madness.

Scara isn’t used to this anymore. The noise, the entropy—it’s all redundant. He makes his way outside, looking for a quieter area where he can down his drinks in solitude. But every corner he turns, there’s some new absurdity waiting for him. People shouting, laughing, making fools of themselves, or worse. He needs to get away from it all.

He decides to sneak off into the woods, seeking solace under the canopy of trees where he can be alone, away from the craziness. Maybe he’ll lie down beneath a tree and stare up at the stars, smoke his remaining cigarettes until he feels numb, until the night blurs into oblivion.

As he trudges through the darkness, he stumbles upon a group of freshmen and sophomores. Their varsity jackets give them away, as does their raucous laughter. They’re soaked, looking like they just emerged from a swim. It puzzles Scara. Is there a lake around here? He wonders if they’ve been skinny dipping.

A few more steps and he finds the lake, its surface shimmering under the moonlight. Sure enough, there are students in the water, some naked, others in their underwear, splashing around without a care in the world. He sighs and finds a place beneath a tree, sitting down with his back against the trunk.

Pulling out his pack of cigarettes, he lights one with Kazuha’s lighter—still with him, even now. The flame flickers in the night air as he brings the cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply. The smoke fills his lungs, and he exhales slowly, watching the tendrils dissipate into the cold night.

He uncaps one of the beer bottles with the lighter and his thumb, taking a long swig. The alcohol burns a little as it goes down, but it’s a welcome sensation. He leans his head back against the tree and takes another drag from his cigarette, glancing up at the sky. The stars are bright tonight, more vivid than he’s seen in a long time. Out here in the woods, away from the lights of the party, they seem to shine just for him.

Finally, in this quiet moment, he can think clearly. His mind drifts to the assignments he’s been neglecting—the plates due at the end of the month. If he doesn’t get started soon, he’s going to fail two major subjects.

The thought makes him laugh, a bitter sound that catches in his throat. He hasn’t even begun. No inspiration, no motivation, nothing to spark his creativity.

His source of creativity. Whatever happened to that? Whatever happened to him?

What’s changed with Kazuha? It’s been over a week with no contact, not even a simple text to ask him over. Has he met someone else? The thought gnaws at him, even though he tries to shake it off. See, Kazuha had always been quick to reply—instant, almost—whether they were broken up or not. He used to answer Scara’s messages within seconds, and even after they’d declared a ‘cool-off,’ he still managed to respond within a day. They’d still hang out, spending entire days together, always ending up in each other’s arms, in bed, in their old shared flat. Those moments after, lying there with nothing left to say because they’d talked about everything they could over the seven years they’d known each other, now feel like a distant memory.

Seven years is a long time for most, but for them, it felt fleeting. They were just two kids who met when they were lost, trying to navigate a world that didn’t make sense. They tried to grow together, to make sense of things, but somehow, in the blink of an eye, it was gone.

Scara tips the bottle back, draining the rest of the beer in one go.

The group of kids near the lake eventually dissipates, and Scara checks the time on his phone: it’s barely nine in the evening. He looks up at the sky, marveling at how clear the stars are from his spot in the woods. He opens the second bottle and takes a sip, then a larger gulp, feeling the alcohol start to warm his insides. He lights another cigarette, taking quick, sharp drags, the smoke swirling around him in the night air.

Footsteps sound from the direction of the party, crunching leaves and twigs underfoot. He hears voices—soft, murmuring words—and realizes it’s a couple. He rolls his eyes, already dreading the idea of witnessing some horny college students making out when all he wants is to be alone. Great, he thinks bitterly. Just what I need—more happy people reminding me of what I’ve lost.

But who is he kidding? He’s the one who let go of Kazuha, not the other way around. He’s the one who pulled away, too afraid of the feelings that ran too deep, too scared of what he might lose if he let himself be vulnerable. This—this lonely night, this aching sense of regret—is what he gets for being such a coward.

Looking up slightly, Scara is momentarily stunned to see Lyney with a girl. Lyney, who lights up upon meeting his stare. “Oh, it’s you.” The same lilac eyes from earlier sweep over him, and then a sly smirk appears on his lips.

Scara deliberately avoids acknowledging him. Instead, he huffs and curls his knees against his chest. He wants nothing to do with Lyney. The guy didn’t bother to say hello on the way here, and now he’s acting all chummy. Typical. Just like the rest of his crowd—snobbish and overly self-assured. Scara’s already tired of his own brand of aloofness, so he’s in no mood to deal with more of it.

That may be the case, but Scara can’t help it; he’s drawn to the scene. With nothing better to do, he watches as Lyney whispers something to the girl, making her giggle before she saunters off, throwing him a lingering, flirtatious glance. Of course, Lyney’s goodbye is sealed with a playful slap on her ass.

As soon as the show’s over, Scara scoots away, trying to appear as oblivious as possible while continuing to smoke. He doesn’t want anything to do with his former blockmate. Just leave me the fuck alone. Don’t come over here, don’t ruin what little peace I’ve managed to find. Please, for once, just—

But when does Scara ever get what he wants? Never.

Lyney plops down on the grass next to him, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. And then, with that infuriatingly casual tone, asks, “This seat taken? May I?”

Scara doesn’t bother to hide his irritation. “I don’t see any ‘seats,’” he drawls, complete with air quotes and a raised brow. “Do you?”

Lyney, unfazed, tilts his head and smirks, one hand on his hip. The slight indent of a dimple appears on his cheek, something Scara only notices now, after all their previous encounters. “Huh. Then how come you’re sitting if there aren’t any?”

It takes all of Scara’s willpower not to roll his eyes. “Because I want to.”

Lyney’s nod is slow, almost mocking. “And if I want to sit too? Would that be a problem?”

Scara scowls, his patience wearing thin. “It would, because I don’t want you to.”

“Ah, so I should just take your word for it, right?”

Scara’s tongue ties itself into knots, and he lets out a frustrated sigh, scooting away from Lyney. “Whatever. Do what you want, just don’t bother me.”

Lyney chuckles, undeterred. “Whoa! Grumpy, aren’t you? I didn’t think so at first. You were always smiling back then… Hm.” He taps a finger against his chin, feigning deep thought. “But I guess I was wrong about that.”

Scara’s jaw drops. “What are you even saying—”

“Never mind,” Lyney interrupts, waving him off. “And I’d sit here anyway, even if you said no.” With that, he flops down beside Scara, looking annoyingly pleased with himself.

Scara shakes his head, turning his gaze back up to the stars. At least they’re quiet. He takes another sip of his beer, only to realize the bottle’s nearly empty. Time for a refill, but just as he starts to get up, something in his peripheral vision stops him. He narrows his eyes at Lyney. “What are you doing?” No wonder he’s gone quiet.

Lyney doesn’t even look up. “You said I could do whatever I want. So.”

“Yeah, but that’s…”

Scara blinks, and for a split second, he swears it’s Kazuha crouched in front of him, rolling their usual joint. But no, this isn’t Kazuha. He’s not here. He’s off with someone else, living a life that no longer includes Scara.

“You also said not to bother you. Is this bothering you?” Lyney’s periwinkle eyes gleam as he glances up, a mischievous grin spreading across his lips. He’s teasing, mocking—being downright annoying.

Annoyingly attractive. Yeah, there it is. Because anyone with eyes would agree: Lyney is gorgeous. The way he’s sitting there, so casual, yet so perfect—he’s sensuous, comely. And Scara has eyes, alright.

He scowls, trying to shake off the thought, but it lingers stubbornly. “No.”

“Then I don’t see why you’re making such a face at me, dear,” Lyney says, all sweet and seductive, another pesky smile playing on his lips, his dimple deepening. Ugh.

Scara sags in defeat. “Because… are you for real? Out in the open, seriously?”

“I mean, why not? Are you… scared or something?” Lyney smirks up at him, and Scara’s just—

“Hey. Watch it. I’m not scared, alright? Far from it, actually. But if someone sees you taking out a bag of weed and snitching on you, I’m not bailing your ass. And none of you are gonna make a witness out of me either, because—”

“Oh, hush you… Don’t worry! Besides, I don’t think you’re the type to get tangled in other people’s messes. Of course, you won’t do that.” Lyney shrugs—throws a wink at him.

Scara raises a brow, because this guy has no idea how many times he had to save his and Kazuha’s asses back then when they… And his mom almost disowned him for each of those times. “What gave you the impression that I—”

“Anyway, here you are.” Lyney offers him a blunt, perfectly rolled, that looks almost like a cigarette. Clean work. This shuts him up, despite itching to complain about how Lyney rarely lets him finish a sentence.

He takes the spliff, hating how smug Lyney looks when he does. “Well? Sit back down, why don’t you? Or are you going to risk us both getting caught standing like that?”

Scara huffs, but he sits because he knows Lyney is right. He lights it up, the taste of burning grass filling his mouth, and—damn—he loves it. “Bringing weed to a festival… What, you just casually carry a bag of illegal substances everywhere you go?”

“Nope. Just tonight.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“I’m only kidding. This isn’t mine.”

Scara shoots the guy a skeptical look, but the guy just grins. “Whose, then…?”

“Took it from that girl just now.” Scara’s mouth hangs open, and Lyney’s grin grows larger. “I wasn’t actually planning to hook up with her, you know? I just want what she has. Or had, for that matter.”

“You’re a pickpocket,” Scara accuses, immediately checking his pockets for his phone, wallet, anything valuable. Especially—he sighs in relief when his fingers brush against the engagement ring he bought months ago, the one he was supposed to use to propose to… He blinks.

“Relax, I’m not going to rob you,” Lyney laughs slyly, watching him.

Scara keeps blinking, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. “I… I needed to be sure.”

Lyney sighs, placing a blunt between his lips and lighting it up. “I won’t rob you because I don’t want any of those things you brought with you. …More like I want you instead.”

“You…” Wait, what? Scara’s heart skips a beat, racing in his chest. “What did you say?”

Lyney just hums, ignoring the question. “And I wondered, what could be a good conversation starter with a boy like him…? Alcohol? Nah, it’s everywhere, wouldn’t make much of an impact. Same goes for cigarettes. Then I thought, maybe—weed. You looked like you could use some.”

Scara clears his throat, thankful for the tears that don’t come embarrassing him as he looks down at his lap. “So you nicked weed just to talk to me. Do I look like a druggie to you?”

“Not particularly.”

“Right. And you expect me to believe that. What a way to pull a guy.”

“So, you’re saying this is me pulling you? And you don’t seem like you’re going to put a stop to it.”

“I didn’t say that,” Scara mutters, taking another drag. This time, he coughs, the bitter taste of the weed scratching his throat.

Lyney chuckles, the sound catching Scara’s attention, even through his coughing fit. “For the record, you don’t look like a druggie, Scaramouche. In my eyes, you look rather lovely, and it would really, really put me on cloud nine if we kissed. Right now.”

Scara stares at Lyney, feeling the haze of the weed and two bottles of whatever settling over his mind. The blunt is still in his hand, but his grip on it is loose, almost as if he’s forgotten he’s holding it. “You’re so dumb,” he mutters to his former blockmate, who simply takes the spliff from Scara’s fingers and takes a long drag.

Their eye contact doesn’t break, not even when Lyney flicks the filter away, the embers snuffing out in the night air. “Yeah, and you want to kiss the dumb out of me so bad, don’t you?”

Scara has no retort to that, so he stays silent. But he’s aware—painfully aware—that he’s leaning in, inching closer to Lyney.

Lyney lifts Scara’s chin gently, guiding their mouths to meet in the middle. When their lips finally connect, it’s like a puzzle piece snapping into place.

Lyney’s lips are soft, though slightly chapped from the cold, yet there’s a sweetness to them that Scara finds intoxicating. He tastes good. Too good. Scara can’t get enough of him. Can’t get enough of this.

It’s been a while since he’s kissed anyone, and he realizes how much he’s missed it. Missed the feeling of being held, being wanted. If only…

They spend the better part of the night making out, almost lying on the grass with Lyney on top of him. And yet, the whole time, Scara’s thoughts drift to… Kazuha.

No, they don’t kiss the same. No, they don’t possess the same flavor. They each have their unique efficacy in them, to his mind, to his body, to his responses.

No, they don’t kiss the same. Kazuha’s kisses were always forbearing, like Scara was made of gold, something too precious to be handled roughly. Lyney, on the other hand—while he’s careful, there’s a roughness to him, an enthusiasm that makes Scara feel like Lyney’s been waiting a long time for this. He can feel it in the way Lyney’s hand trails down his back, over his ass, in the way he caresses Scara’s cheek and takes control of the kiss.

Breathless, high, and slightly drunk, they break the kiss. Lyney pulls away first, and Scara almost whines, a desperate Kazuha, come back here on the tip of his tongue. He manages to hold it in, but his heart pounds wildly, and he can see that Lyney looks just as wrecked as he feels. Scara’s body is throbbing, and he’s tempted to rub up against something—maybe Lyney’s thigh.

“Well, well…! I’ve been looking all over. So this is where I find you, with your tongue down someone’s throat! Hm? Is that…?” Scara’s head snaps up at the sound of that enragingly familiar voice, and he scowls as he sees a face framed by icy blue hair. “Oh, Scaramouche.”

“Focalors,” he drones.

“What do you know, Venti’s looking for you too.” She leans down, taking in the sight of Lyney still straddling him on the grass, and tilts her head with a smirk. “I have to say, you two look cute together. I didn’t know you and Lyney here—”

“We’re not. We’re just…” Scara pushes Lyney off and scrambles to sit up, hurriedly gathering his things and stuffing them into his pockets. “Where’s Venti then?” he asks, trying to ignore the nausea swirling in his stomach. He darts a glance at the crushed reefer, now reduced to ashes, and quickly snags it, shoving it into his pocket as well. He jumps to his feet, dusting off his shorts.

“Back at the party. Hey, where are you going?” Furina asks as he brushes past her.

“Home. I’m just gonna tell him I’m heading out.” Scara halts mid-step, considering something, and then glances back at her, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Or, maybe you could do me a favor and tell him yourself? I don’t think I can face that place again, and—”

“He’s there, you know.”

Scara’s brow furrows. He blinks at her, confusion flickering across his face. “…What do you mean? Who’s he?”

Furina’s expression shifts, suddenly serious, and that’s all it takes for him to understand. Eyes widening, Scara sprints into the woods, pushing past people who barely register in his mind, driven by a singular, desperate purpose.

There.

In the midst of the crowd, he sees him. Kazuha. After a month of no contact, after a week of radio silence, there he is.

Kazuha looks… fine. Happy, even. Just as breathtakingly beautiful as the last time Scara held him.

…The sight hits Scara like a punch to the gut. He can’t breathe.

His hands clench into fists, nails biting into his palms. He feels the ring buried deep in his pocket, pressing into his skin as if to remind him of what he can never have. This isn’t your place, he tells himself, fighting the overwhelming urge to run to Kazuha, to grab him and escape together.

But in the end, he doesn’t.

Instead, Scara turns on his heel and walks away, each step heavier than the last. The sidewalk stretches out before him, and he knows it’ll be a long walk to the main road where he can catch a cab. But the distance doesn’t matter when his heart feels like it’s shattering in his chest. Kazuha looks fine without him, like he’s better off without Kunikuzushi.

And here Scara is, dying on the inside. Fuck. Why can’t I just fucking move on? It’s been half a year since they broke up, yet he can’t let go, can’t accept that it’s over.

To think I was the one who ended it. All because he couldn’t trust himself to keep Kazuha happy, to maintain that radiant smile. As time went on, Scara’s insecurities consumed him, his self-doubt growing stronger with each passing day of their relationship. He began to see his flaws more clearly, and with that, he saw his inadequacies in making Kazuha truly happy.

When the pressure became too much, he did what he thought was best—what he always did when things got too intense. He asked for space. But he never imagined that Kazuha would take that space and disappear from his life completely.

“Hey. Hey, wait up! Scaramouche!”

Scara glances behind him and sees Lyney trying to catch up. He slows his pace just slightly. “What is it? What do you want?”

Lyney reaches the sidewalk, falling into step beside him. “Why are you walking? Are you seriously heading home on foot?”

“No, I’m not stupid. I’m just going to the main road to call a cab.” With that, Scara picks up his pace again, hoping Lyney will take the hint and leave him be.

But the guy matches his stride and then jogs ahead, spinning around to face him as they continue walking. “Well, if you want, you can ride with me,” he offers, almost too casually.

Scara stops in his tracks, narrowing his eyes. “You have a car?”

“Sure do.”

“Oh, wonderful.” He throws his hands up in exasperation before continuing to walk. “Then why’d you have to cram in with everyone else earlier, making us all sit there like sardines?”

Lyney chuckles, and Scara’s mesmerized by it. His face, contorted in such a fashion makes him look cute. A real catch. “Come now. Because riding with friends is much more fun, don’t you think? It’s plain and simple.”

Scara stops again, and this time, Lyney halts as well. With the alcohol mostly out of his system, Scara takes a moment to really see the guy standing before him. This is the same guy who’s been trailing him all night, who initiated a kiss, who even went so far as to steal someone else’s weed just to start a conversation with him. Lyney.

Lyney, who stands pale under the wintry moonlight, dressed in a pearl-colored shirt and steel-blue shorts, his tawny loafers matching the pristine image he projects. His flaxen blonde hair is braided to the side, giving him an air of effortless elegance and glamour. He’s undeniably attractive, classy in a way that’s hard to ignore. Scara wonders why he never noticed him like this before.

But of course.

You know why.

He knows why.

And looks aren’t everything. Not to him. Scara had handsome guys fall for him that he rejected because he didn’t think they clicked, his ex and ex-flings all looked fetching, his mom is beautiful and he lived with her half of his life. The point is he’s used to seeing charismatic people that it’s not out of the ordinary, so.

So maybe, that’s an additional factor as to why he’s never looked at anyone and deemed them just as pretty as his Kazuha.

His Kazuha…

But Kazuha isn’t his, is he? Not anymore.

He’s allowed to roam his eyes wherever now, whenever he wants.

“Fine, Lyney. Where’s your car?”

“You know my name.” Lyney’s voice is almost breathless, his words clouding in the cold December air. His cheeks are flushed from the chill, and Scara realizes they need to get out of the cold before the poor guy freezes to death.

“I do. Now, your car?”

“Right! Wait there, I’ll go get it.”

“Okay.”

Lyney beams, his smile lighting up the night, and before Scara can react, he leans in to steal a quick kiss. The unexpected gesture leaves Scara momentarily stunned, and he watches as Lyney skips away, giddy and full of life.

As Scara stands there, he realizes he envies him.

Just look at how happy Lyney is, while Scara is left feeling cold and alone, haunted by the knowledge that his ex isn’t missing him the way he misses him.

To be in Lyney’s shoes, carefree and unburdened, with nothing weighing him down.

Good for him.

**

As promised, Lyney returns for him, now driving a sleek white Chevy. The sight of the car suggests that the guy must be loaded. “Hey, pretty boy. Hop in,” the guy calls out with a grin.

Scara sighs at the pet name used so handily, but he complies. Before climbing in, he chances a final glance back at the party, scanning the crowd for any sign of Kazuha. His heart sinks when he fails to spot the familiar white hair, so with a heavy heart, he lets it go and slips into the passenger seat of Lyney’s car. The first thing he notices is how pleasant the interior smells, how spotless and organized everything is.

From the driver’s seat, Lyney reaches into the back and proudly reveals what he’s snuck out for them: a couple of beers. “You are such a thief,” he remarks, raising an eyebrow as he gives Lyney a pointed look.

Lyney merely shrugs, gripping the steering wheel. “Nah, I’d rather you say thank you, actually.”

Scara nods at that, snagging one bottle and opening it with his teeth. “Thanks.” He chugs down some of the cold liquid, feeling the burning sensation of alcohol roll down his throat. He adds as an afterthought, “And for the ride.”

“Anything for the prettiest boy in that party, I suppose.” Scara huffs, but his cheeks are warm from the flattery. The car begins to move, Lyney removing them from the curb. He fixes the rearview mirror before looking behind them, arm leaning over Scara’s seat as he goes. The breath in Scara’s lungs short circuits at the gesture, for the very reason he finds his companion hot and barely centimeters away from his face. He gets a whiff of his cologne and it’s the addicting kind. “You spaced back there, earlier. Is something wrong?”

Withdrawn to his senses, Scara looks out the window, hoping Lyney didn’t notice him practically salivating over his… evident glamor. He’s just oozing sex appeal driving effortlessly like that, and it’s doing things to Scara. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

“If you say so,” Lyney mumbles, and it’s become quiet after that. They make it to the main road. Scara’s almost finished with the beer he opened when Lyney opens his mouth again, “Where do you live then?”

“I live with Venti. If you know where he lives, just take me there.”

“Alright.”

…The rest of the ride is surprisingly tranquil—a good hour and a half with no music playing, no probing questions from Lyney, and no mention of the incident at the party. Scara had already texted Venti to let him know he left, receiving a simple thumbs-up in response and a promise that Venti would be home soon.

As they pull up to the complex building where Scara and Venti live, Lyney parks the car, but they linger there for a bit. Scara lights up a cigarette, using his ex’s lighter, and Lyney is considerate enough to roll down the window for him and turn the heater on when Scara complains about the biting chill of the night.

Once Scara finishes his cigarette, he shuts the window and leans back, only to instinctively freeze as Lyney leans over to unbuckle his seatbelt. Their noses brush against each other, and with a sudden, heated urge, Scara mutters, “Fuck it,” before grabbing Lyney’s face and pulling him into a searing kiss.

He’s admittedly gone so horny. This, he will not deny.

So then the kiss is clumsy, messy, and sloppy—a reflection of the heat and desire surging through Scara. Lyney smirks against his lips, pulling back just long enough to catch his breath, a laugh escaping him as he teases, “You seem so eager to eat me up.”

“What if I do? Gonna reject me?” Scara challenges, his voice thick with need.

“You? Only an idiot would,” Lyney replies with a wistful smile.

“Then shut up and kiss me,” Scara demands, his voice a breathy huff.

And Lyney does. They go back to kissing and don’t talk again, Scara pushing himself out of the seat to crawl over and sit on Lyney’s lap, feeling the steering wheel dig into the small of his back. While the guy runs his hands along each of his arms, Scara carries on savoring his pretty mouth, soft tongue, and the relish of him.

He’s so cold… He’s so damn cold.

Lyney holds him steady around the hips when the kiss becomes chaotic, Scara getting hungrier and hungrier by the second. He even begins rubbing against Lyney’s crotch, loving the feeling of the guy’s bulge slitting across and in between his—oh, wait. Scara jerks back. “Um, I… I forgot to tell you…”

But then Lyney shakes his head. “I don’t mind, sweet. Given our position right now, I’ve figured right away. Here.” Lyney trails his fingers along his thigh until he’s slipping them underneath Scara’s shorts, and Scara lets him.

He’s so wet down there already, he can feel himself leaking, his cunt pulsing with so much want. Desire… Desire to be taken care of.

With a heavy-lidded purple gaze directed at him—his face—Scara holds on with bated breath as deft fingers finally find his entrance, and…just a little bit, he feels one inserting itself, some squelching noise resounding in the quiet vehicle where it’s just their breathing that can be heard all over. “Ohh…” His eyes flutter shut at the contact, and he’s so fucking delighted Lyney doesn’t stop for any sort of reaction he gives. To add to his pleasure, the guy adds another finger next to the one that’s already snug deep in him, and Scara has to spread his legs at it, making way for a gratifying rhythm.

They go back to kissing while Lyney finger-fucks him, slow and steady, like the guy’s teasing… although not really. It’s just their position that’s hindering Lyney’s movements and advances toward him.

Scara breaks the kiss off again to ask this time, “Are you gonna fuck me in your car or do you want to come up inside and do it in my room?”

“Whichever works better for you.”

And Scara thinks about it. “I think I’d like to be eaten out before getting fucked sideways actually, so we should do it in my room.”

“Alright. Anything for the prettiest boy.”

Scara rolls his eyes but he knows he’s smiling silly all the same.

He leads the way up to their dorm, all the while as Lyney stays close to him.

As soon as he manages to unlock the door, he’s latching himself onto Lyney straight away, pressing them up against the wall and shoving his tongue down his throat, because he knows Venti isn’t home and it’s just the two of them this evening. They have the whole flat to themselves and can do whatever they please, can scream and moan and cry and no one would hear.

That… Scara likes that. A good cry sounds about right.

Lyney kicks the door shut behind them, and Scara drags him by the neck to where his room is. He gets tossed into his bed like he weighs less than the other man and almost instantly he’s being stripped out of his clothes.

Scara…is honest to god so out of it, really. He’s uncertain that he’d even remember every last detail of what they will do here, tonight. But he thinks that’s okay. It’s fine. This thing—it’s only going to happen one time. They’re doing it in the dark, and Lyney will be nothing but just another pretty face come morning.

And if the whole time he was imagining himself getting railed by the one that got away, then… nobody has to know.

[queenkagamine]

“No I don’t smoke, thanks though.”

scaralyney for mt husbandddd. Idk bro. I wanted to draw them for my beef but it looks kinda…idk. Not good haha. I got the idea during art fight but we r on the same team “I don’t wanna do it for art fight bc getting 4 points will kill my motivation”

if I keep drawing stuff I’m bad at, one day I’ll get good at it 🙏 prommy

forced to tag ship name 🤲 can’t imagine being in a popular enough fandom to actually have ships that have tags.

[lyne7]

lyney you're embarrassing him

[woxinling]

#ScaralynWeek2023

to think that i write something for scaralyn week after doing nothing for kazuscara week... crazy

anyway,,,

day 1 - exploring

[kusuguricafe]

Tickletober Week 2: Revenge

ScaraLynLumi Part 2 of 2

read part 1 here

A/N: Inspired by this incredible scara lyney art I commissioned by @ppystkposts ❤️❤️❤️

Summary: Wanderer gets his revenge~

Characters: lee!Lyney, ler!Wanderer, spectator Lumine

“He did WHAT? Oh, he’s dead. Where is that little-”

“Kasacchi! Wait!!”

Too late. Wanderer had already sped off with his anemo jet boosters. There was no way Lumine could catch up to him now.

“In front of an entire crowd… Unbelievable! I swear, when I find him I’m gonna-”

“Excuse me, sir. No flying in the theater, please.”

Wanderer stopped in his tracks, still hovering above the ground. He looked down at the theater attendant. “Where is that little magician punk?”

“L-Lyney? He should still be backstage- Hey! I said no- Oh, forget it.”

Wanderer rushed towards the stage, bursted through the curtains, and landed backstage. He searched around for a minute or so, until he almost ran into Lynette.

“Careful,” she said

“Where’s your brother?”

“He’s putting props away, why do you- and he’s gone.”

“Hey,” Lumine waved down the theater attendant. “Did you happen to see anyone, uh, fly through here?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. He went backstage.”

“Thank you!” Lumine ran off in that direction.

“No running in the theater, young lady! Ugh, what is with people today!?”

Wanderer skirted around another corner and paused. A glimmer of light had caught his eye. He hovered over to it and, lo and behold, it was from the cat embellishment on Lyney’s hat!

“Gotcha!” Wanderer dive-bombed the magician, landing on top of him.

“WaAAH! Whoa there!” Lyney blinked in disbelief. “Kasacchi?”

Wanderer glanced down at the rope Lyney was holding and smirked.

“D-did, uh, did Lumine tell you about- Wait, what’re you-”

Wanderer snatched the rope, quickly tying Lyney’s wrists together.

“H-hey! You don’t have to do this!”

“Oh, but I do. You’re coming with me.”

And with that, Wanderer lifted Lyney up, carrying him bridal style. He flew behind another set of smaller curtains (presumably the changing room), causing Lyney’s hat to fall off. He set Lyney down on his knees, grabbing the running end of the rope and tying it to a hook on the ceiling. He sat behind Lyney and said in a low voice, “Did you really think I’d let you get away with a stunt like that?”

“I can free myself, you know. I am a magician after all.”

“Not easily.”

“What do you mea- aH! W-wait!”

Wanderer’s fingers crept onto Lyney’s exposed underarms, preparing to strike.

“C-can we talk about this?”

“Mm… No.”

“EEEHEHEHAHAHAHA NAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“How’s it feel, huh?”

“IHIHIT TIHAHAHAHAHA! TIHIHICKLES!”

“Oh, does it?”

“EEHEHEYAHAHAHAHAAAA! NAHAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHEHERAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“Lynette! Do you know where Kasacchi went?” Lumine asked.

“He went over-”

“AAAAHHHHH! AHAHAHAHAAAAA!”

“Did. Did you hear that?” Lumine looked around worriedly.

“That sounded like Lyney.”

“I think it came from over there,” Lumine pointed to the changing room.

The laughter became clearer as the two walked over towards the room. They saw Lyney’s hat on its side sitting just outside the curtains.

“Lyney…?” Lumine said as she drew back the curtains.

“Lumine! Lynette!” Lyney exclaimed.

The girls watched as Wanderer’s right hand curled into Lyney’s right armpit while his left hand squeezed a sweet spot on Lyney’s left thigh.

“Please, you have to help mehEHEHEHE NOHOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Lyney was beyond embarrassed. How could he let the Traveler see him in such a position!?

Lynette covered her mouth and giggled softly. She looked at Lumine, “Well, he does kind of deserve it…”

Lumine could not stop staring at the scene in front of her.

“You’re on your own, brother. Have fun, you three.” Lynette closed the curtains behind her and left.

“WAHAHAHAHAHAIT! LYNEHEHETTE! Come bahahAHAHAHAHAHACK! LUMIHIHIHIHIHINE! HEHEHEHELP MEHEHEHEHEHEHEE!”

“Are you gonna help or not, Traveler?” Wanderer smiled at Lumine.

Lumine kneeled down in front of Lyney. It was too hard to resist—Lyney looked so cute and helpless tied up like that. She placed her hands on his inner thighs.

“Good choice,” Wanderer said, moving his left hand back up. He rested his hands on Lyney’s armpits, waiting for Lumine to make a move.

“Lumine, please, I beg you, don’t help him, help meEEEEAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Lyney’s face flushed bright red.

Lumine gently scratched Lyney’s inner thighs while Wanderer dug his fingers into Lyney’s underarms.

“PLEEEHEHEHEHEEASE! I’M GONNA DAHAHAHAHAHAHAIEEEE!”

“He’s just as ticklish as you, Kasacchi!”

“Don't make this about me,” Wanderer blushed. He leaned in closer to Lyney’s ear and said, “You must really like this, huh? You’re not fighting back at all.”

Lyney felt like he was going to explode. “IHIHI DOHOHOHOHOON’T!” he whined.

Lumine began squeezing Lyney’s thighs, trying to find that sweet spot Wanderer had found earlier. “I thought you loved this, Lyney,” Lumine said, pouting.

“DON’T TELL HIM THAHAHAHAHAT!!”

“Figures,” Wanderer said.

“As if you don’t enjoy it too, Kasacchi~” Lumine teased.

“Wha-!? I-I don’t!”

That brief moment of hesitation was all Lyney needed to finally free his hands. He held onto the rope instead, not wanting the others to know he had escaped just yet.

“You certainly seemed like you were enjoying it during our performance~” Lyney chimed in.

“You really think you’re in a position to make comments like that right nahAHAHAHAHAHAHA!?”

Lyney reached back and squeezed right above Wanderer’s knees.

“OHO NOHOHO YOU DOHOHOHON’T!” Wanderer grabbed Lyney’s waist, squeezing up and down his sides and hips.

Lumine giggled at the sight in front of her. She reached for both of them, skittering her fingers across the sensitive skin under Wanderer’s knee and wiggling her thumb into a spot between Lyney’s upper thigh and hip that she knew drove him crazy.

“NOHOHOHOHO! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!” Wanderer yelled.

“AHAHAHAHAHA LUHUHUMIHIHIHIHIHINE!!” Lyney cried.

The boys leaned back onto the floor and Lumine took the opportunity to sit on Lyney’s left leg and Wanderer’s right, pinning them both. “You two need to get over yourselves,” she said, grabbing Lyney’s thigh with her left hand and Wanderer’s with her right, skillfully tickling both of their inner thighs. “Convenient you’re both super ticklish here~”

“PLEHEHEHEHEASE LUHUMIHIHIHINE!!” Lyney begged.

“THAT’S NOT FAHAHAHAHAIR!” Wanderer objected.

She “tormented” them for a few more minutes, targeting spots she knew were very ticklish for both of them.

“How are you all still doing this, it’s been like twenty minutes.”

“Lynette!?” Lyney and Lumine said simultaneously.

“Wrap it up, will you? You said we could eat out tonight, Lyney. I’m getting hungry.” She closed the curtains again.

The boys laid still on the ground, panting. After a moment, Lyney asked Lumine and Wanderer, “Would you two like to join us?”

“Are you serious!?” Wanderer asked incredulously.

“I would love to! Let’s go, Kasacchi!”

“You need to get off of us first.” Wanderer said matter-of-factly.

“Oh! Right,” Lumine said, mildly embarrassed.

“We’ll be ready in a few, Lynette!” Lyney called out to his sister.

“Cool, you owe me three desserts. One from each of you.”

[pettyrgeo]

pining Lyney and the boy of his affection 🎩☂

[parkaknight]

happy scaralyn banners day!!!

[lynettedater]

magma stuff

[scarilho]

That's scaralyn fan child I made !