#scaramouche imagine

[sungie]

“Stop wasting your time.” 

Scaramouche has never been a liar. Yet there’s something so jarring about the way it leaves his mouth. When what he really needs to say is something so disgustingly vulnerable he can’t bear it. He’s just said, stop wasting your time, when what he really needs to say is ‘on me’. Stop wasting your time on me.

So why won’t his lips move? Why won’t he say those words he knows will wipe that hurt expression right off your face? 

He feels your back tense against his. And it's so preventable. If only he just ... spit it out. Said sorry. Explained himself.

“What?” You say.

It’s such a quiet sound. Even though you’re there, right beside him. So close, it feels like he holds the tremors of your voice inside that small, empty space gouged within his chest. 

“You heard me,” is what he says instead. His gaze drifts to the senbei you tried tossing in your mouth and missed. A half-hour earlier and there'd been laughter screwing up your face in a way he hadn’t known softened him. Not until he’d raised a hand to his aching cheek to realize he’d been smiling. And now, because he's an ass, he keeps going. “I know you did.” 

“No,” you say. “No, I heard. I just don’t understand why you ... why you always.” There’s a pause. It’s too long. Seconds too long. 

Before he knows it, he's glancing at you. Just to check, he convinces himself. And god dammit.

He swallows. His chest feels so hollow. Like, he’s carved it out himself. 

“I just wanted to," you say, then stop.

Just shut up already, he thinks. He's not stupid. Like, do you really think he can't tell how hard you're trying to keep your voice steady? That he can’t see the way your nails dig crescent moons into your skin? That he can’t see the way you’re sucking in your left cheek so you won’t cry?

“I just … want you to let me in.” You say at last.

And it’s why you invited him over, he thinks. To try and get him to smile. Which, you succeeded with, he guesses. To try and get him to learn relationships aren’t give and take, but build and build.

Like that stupid analogy and that stupid board game. You beat him at it earlier that night, and he swept the rest of the wooden blocks aside to slump and gaze at your ceiling in defeat. Later, you’d laughed and slumped on top of him, pressing your nose to his.

Now did you succeed in that second part? Scaramouche scoffs.

So pathetic. Pathetically naive.

Because he doesn’t think you’re right. People never stay. Never.

But when he glances back at you, your gaze burns a determined hole into him. Despite him having been a total dick all evening. And there it is again, that unfamiliar feeling in his chest. Expanding. Making it hard to breathe.

Well, if he’s honest. He hopes you’re right. Even though you're not.

Scaramouche sighs. He leans forward, his thumb lightly grazing the top of your cheek to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “It fell into your face. That’s all.”

He knows his touch lingers. What he really wants is to cup your cheek. He wants to hold you. But his hands move back to his sides like he can't control them. Another reminder he’s more puppet than human. 

“You want me to let you in,” he says, repeating your sentiments. “And what good will that do? I relive my god-awful memories, just for you to cry your pretty little eyes out? I don’t think so.” 

He’s thankful you don’t dwell on it. He supposes he should reward you, until he hears it.

“You think I’m pretty?”

Is that even a question? Of course he does. 

Not anymore, is what he’s about to say, but it dies away once he notices just how he’s gazing at you.

And it must be tender, or as tender as someone like him can manage, because he watches you press your lips together to hide your smile. Stubbornly withheld tears wobble beneath your waterline.

“Don’t cry,” he says, just to balance it out. “You look ugly.” 

It makes you laugh. “I hate you. So much.” 

God, Scaramouche loves that laugh.

He cracks a smile. “Good.” He reaches for your hand and brings it to his lips. A kiss against your knuckles. A kiss against the jut of your wrist. And the words fall from his lips into your ear like your judgment can repent a guilty conscience. “I meant it, when I said to stop wasting your time. You want me to let you in? So listen. Stop wasting your time. On me.” 

He pulls away, only to see your eyes flash open. That’s when you bite back a sob.

You blink, and tears fall down your cheeks in a race to gather beneath your chin, just to dribble down the sides of your nose. “I want you. How many times do I have to say it? You. I want you. I know you don’t think you deserve love, but you do. You do.”

There’s a moment where he thinks he might ruin everything. He can feel the words building behind his throat, the way everything feels tight and tense and like he can’t breathe. But there’s also something smaller, something gentler. It’s a strange feeling, one that’s been building in his chest and kindling every time you speak.

“Typical,” Scaramouche says, but he’s reaching to cup your face, thumbing away at the tears and pressing his lips to the corner of your eyes.

[kyuuppi]

HEAR ME OUT. Genshin Men as your ex, like what would they do during the healing process? Would they beg for you back, try to get you jealous, etc.

I LOVE UR WRITING AND FORMAT XX YOU'RE LITERALLY AMAZING.

Ft. Zhongli; Xiao; Tighnari; Scaramouche

⚠️tw: manipulation (Scaramouche); bad end/angst (Xiao; Zhongli)

Every cell in my body resisting the urge to make them yandere–

⭐ Zhongli

To be frank, Zhongli is no stranger to the end of relationships.

Having lived through several millennia, Zhongli has watched many friends, enemies, and lovers come and go. 

The moment he met you, he already knew you would someday be the same–such is the nature of mortality.

No matter how much he loved you, you would one day become yet another bittersweet memory–the type that makes his chest ache in the latest hours of the night while the rest of the harbor is sleeping.

Zhongli knew your departure from his life was inevitable…

But he didn’t expect to have to say goodbye so soon–let alone voluntarily.

“I love you, Zhongli. I really do but… we’re just too different. A former archon and a human just weren’t meant to be together. I’m sorry.”

Words he had never dreamed of fall from your lips easily. You had rehearsed it for a while.

He is internally distraught - his chest aches in a way he is not quite familiar with and, for once, he does not know what to say. 

He politely lets you leave - says that he understands and expresses his desire to remain amicable if you will allow it but will keep his distance if that is what you prefer.

He will always be available to share some advice over a cup of tea or osmanthus wine if you should ever need it. The unwritten contract between the of you – the favor and support of a former archon – is unconditional. 

You may find yourself shocked at how easily he lets you go –whether or not you are pleased by it depends on the nature of your true feelings.

Zhongli’s warm smiles and calming words will always remain, albeit now polite rather than intimate.

Outsiders who were unfamiliar with the nature of your previous relationship will not even notice the difference.

It is only a select few - Xiao, a few other adepti, and perhaps the funeral director – who see how the once smoldering embers in Zhongli’s steady gaze have been smothered.

It is only in the darkest hours of night, alone in his study, that Zhongli allows himself to wonder if his divinity is a blessing or a curse.

“It is unfortunate that our journey together must come to an end so soon. I have very much enjoyed our time together and appreciated the honor of witnessing your glory so closely. I will not burden you with my presence but… if you should ever need my assistance or desire my companionship, it is always yours.”

⭐ Xiao

Never in a thousand years would Xiao have imagined he would have someone to call his own.

After centuries of abuse–both inflicted upon him and from him - Xiao had sworn to never put himself in a position that vulnerable again. He will never let someone get close enough to hurt him or be hurt.

Nevertheless, you appeared in his life and shattered every expectation he had ever set.

Through sheer persistence, you smashed your way through his every wall and stole his heart as your own.

You had created an inseverable bond between you two…

...but now you wanted to sever it.

“I don’t think we can be together anymore, Xiao. You have a duty to protect Liyue and that is your top priority. You are tethered to this place. But I want to explore new places… and new people. I’m sorry, Xiao.”

His first reaction is anger, the type that flashed white hot in his gut and burns through his veins.

He did not seek you out – you were the one who forced your way into his life.

No matter how often he rejected you, how much he tried to avoid you, you had repeatedly interjected your way into his routine, bringing him plates of almond tofu and sharing stories of you adventure he had never asked about.

You created the habit for him. You made him expect your presence every day. You gave him new experiences and made him feel things he never knew possible. You made him love you in ways he had never imagined himself capable of–

–only to rip it all away. 

He should have known he was not good enough - he was always just a weapon, a tool, wasn’t he? It is only natural that you would use him too–and that he would one day become useless.

He leaves without a word.

For you, it is almost as if you had imagined his whole existence.

He no longer waits for you atop Wangshu Inn. You no longer feel the sense of someone watching–protecting–you while you take commissions around Liyue. 

 The only indication you have that you had not dreamt the whole thing is the occasional story random citizens, claiming to have been saved from a lawachurl by a ghost with yellow eyes.

You think Xiao has forgotten your entire existence. He disappears from your life so easily.

But to Xiao, it is not easy at all. 

His every thought is plagued by you to the point he wonders if you placed a curse upon him.

While the memory of you once eased his karmic debt, now it only seems to fuel it.

The voices taunt him, remind him of how worthless he is, even to his own lover.

You’re only a weapon of destruction – of course no one would want to be with you. You could never make anyone happy. You can only bring pain.

He suffers alone, brushing off the concern of the other adepti and even Zhongli when his karmic debt seems to get worse, his breakdowns more frequent and more intense than ever before/

It is only when you call his name - whether because you miss him or because you are in danger, than he will allow himself to see you again.

But even as he stands before you, he will not make eye contact.

Not because he does not want to see you but because he does not trust himself to act reasonably if he does.

“Even if the… nature of our relationship has changed, our bond still remains… what I mean is, if you are ever in danger, you should still call my name. I will always protect you...”

⭐ Tighnari

Um… this dude mates for life, how could you do this to him???

Similar to Xiao, he initially just gets kind of angry.

He told you how serious this is for him, how much relationships mean to fennec foxes.

He had asked you over and over again if you were sure before making your relationship official and you had assured him that you were. You said forever.

You had known each other for years before - you knew his personality and his habits. You knew being a forest watcher was his top priority and how long he spent on patrols - nothing has changed so why are your feelings changing?

“I’m sorry, Tighnari, I just… I don’t think I can live like this forever. Working in the forest together was a fun way to pass time but I don’t want to do it anymore. I don’t want to be with you anymore.“

He tries to talk it through - he wants to be logical and compromise with you. He asks you to set boundaries and be specific about your needs so that he has the chance to try to meet them - he will do anything to make this work, you just need to tell him what you need.

But you insist there’s nothing he can do, and without a proper explanation, you leave him behind.

It is easy to fall back into old routines and habits. Even if his lover is gone, the forest never rests.

He goes back to his patrols and reports and lectures – everything is the same as before yet it all feels completely wrong.

The days he used to look forward to – eagerly learning more about the forest he loved and sharing his findings with other curious minds – now feel like little more than a waste of time.

His passion is gone, the once burning desires now doused and his mind is only plagued with memories of you.

Quiet moments late at night in his tent are the worst. 

His bed feels uncharacteristically cold and empty without you in it. The calm night is much too quiet when your voice is not there to hum a tune you heard at the market.

“You’re being incredibly selfish right now – our relationship may be just a way to pass time for you but for me – it's all or nothing. There was no one before you and there will be no one after you. We made a commitment to each other and we need to stick it out. So tell me exactly what the problem is so we can work on it and fix it. Together. We have a whole lifetime to figure this out so don’t just give up on us so easily.”

⭐ Scaramouche

You have to be insane to leave this man - and not just ‘cause he is hot.

If you made it far enough for Scaramouche to let you into his heart, you already know his past. You know what has happened to him and how he feels about people leaving.

There is absolutely no way this will go well for either of you.

Once his heart is broken his immediate response is vengeance and retaliation.

If you think you are leaving him behind – betraying him like everyone else in his life – you have got another think coming.

“I’m serious, scaramouche. I don’t want this anymore. We’re just not meant for each other.”

“Ha– you think you have a choice? I must not have made myself clear – you are mine and you are not going anywhere without me.”

lol oops I made it yandere

While much less openly accommodating as Tighnari, Scaramouche is still willing to listen to your complaints and try to find a solution.

Although he’s possessive and a bit blinded by his own feelings, Scaramouche truly does love you and will do anything he can to make you happy–but only if you are happy with him.

If you physically leave, he will follow you. If you try to find someone else, he is not above getting rid of them. 

Once you enter a relationship with Scaramouch, for as long as the two of you are alive, you will be with each other.

“Do you finally understand? Good. Taking care of those mortal men you wanted to hang around with was starting to become tedious."

[silence-burns]

Scaramouche (Wanderer): jealousy

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Wanderer doesn't own much in life. He hardly ever cares about any belongings or material possessions and for the most part, he is happy with that. He's lost so much over the course of his life that he thinks it's best if he just has nothing else to lose. 

But there are certain things he just won't compromise on, and you are one of them. 

It's taken him a long time to convince himself worthy of you and now that he feels a connection with you, there is absolutely nothing Wanderer will allow to ruin that relationship.

He will immediately notice someone taking an interest in you. Wanderer will keep an eye on them just in case, and probably won't mention it to you without a reason. He'd feel bad for making you feel responsible for an idiot's behavior. 

The situation will drastically change the moment someone decides to act and approach you. Wanderer would immediately position himself in front of you. He wouldn't even have to try hard to make a scary face, because his anger would overtake him. If his scowl wasn't enough to scare someone off, Wanderer was fully ready for a fight.

You oftentimes had to calm him down with a hand on his shoulder or elbow, and convince him to let the situation be resolved in a more peaceful manner.

Wanderer had never been one for peaceful solutions, but he would carefully allow you to do the talking. 

He would stare menacingly from behind your back, his teeth almost bared and one wrong word away from snapping. You were his and there was no need for other people taking away your time. 

Wanderer was not below grabbing a particularly annoying person and taking them for a quick fly away from any witnesses. Sometimes a change of surroundings was the best problem solver, especially when paired with hanging someone high off the ground.

Wanderer had always tried his best to present his best side to you and prove how capable he was in everything he touched. So when he sees someone better, Wanderer will do absolutely anything it takes to show off and make up for it.

Wanderer is aware you know a lot of people all around Teyvat. He's been traveling with you for a while and made a few acquaintances too. But it doesn't change the simple fact that whenever he sees you talking to one of your friends and clearly having fun catching up, something in Wanderer stirs. Thoughts of self-consciousness are not welcome, so he'd just grow more quiet, trying to repress them.

He wouldn't make a scene when it comes to your friends. Regardless of his own feelings, he wants you to be happy and have fun with people you rarely see. 

Wanderer would be more affectionate than usual once that meeting was over and he was left alone with you again. He wouldn't ask for it outright, but his hugs would be just a bit tighter and his kisses longer.

Wanderer never thought himself to be the jealous type, but he had a few things to reconsider when presented with the evidence.

[fluffnari]

Wandermouche cuddle prompt extended: early relationship him crawling into bed to hold you while you sleep because he would never he caught doing that while you're awake. He thinks you don't know that he does it, but you absolutely do.

You would offer cuddles and he would refuse quickly. Cuddles? Don't ask again, those are beneath him... Until he thinks you're asleep. You're breathing soft, heart rate calm, eyelashes kissing your cheeks, ones he imagined kissing before.

Arms looking empty and so very tempting to him, Wanderer would climb silently onto the bed. Scooting so close to you and wrapping your arms around him. If you move he'd tense up with momentary fear that you would wake up. Instead, you tighten your hold around him and Wanderer is comforted.

You smile, having been awake. Just like every other night, he does this. You hope one day, he is comfortable enough to do this when you're awake.

[aspiringauthorintraining]

Scaramouche: I prevented a murder today.

(Y/N): Really? How’d you do that?

Scaramouche: Self control.

[captaincryolicious]

tattoo artist scaramouche

scaramouche/wanderer x gn!reader

summary ; you decide to finally get a tattoo, and it turns out that your tattoo artist is super pretty. though he is a little mean at first, you soon get to see through the cracks of his outer shell.

format ; oneshot, 2,6k

cw ; scara being a bit mean, kinda ooc scara, modern au, tattoo artist au, use of scara's real name (kunikuzushi)

zep's note ; i'm not entirely satisfied with this but yeah it's whatever i guess haha

content under the cut | masterlist

Your body was rigid with stress when you stepped inside, the soft jingle above the door making your arrival known – it was impossible to back out now without looking like an absolute fool in front of the artists employed by the tattoo shop you just walked into. Your tense fist clutched the strap of your bag tightly, your knuckles pale under the pressure. Up until a few minutes ago, you genuinely thought it was a good idea to get a tattoo. You had been confident, but it all diminished rapidly as soon as you had placed your hand on the door handle. Now you were hesitating, many doubts pestering your mind. 

Would it hurt?

Would you regret it, once it was done? 

Would it be awkward to have a stranger – albeit a tattoo artist – so close to you?

You fought to put those thoughts aside. They weren’t welcome in your consciousness right now. It was too late. anyway. You were inside, and the guy behind the counter just laid his eyes upon you. If you were to turn around and dash out of the shop, he would judge you so hard. No, you had to preserve your dignity. Besides, you really wanted that tattoo, regardless of what your doubts tried to tell you. You gathered all the smidges of bravery you could find and took somewhat confident strides until you stood in front of the counter. 

     “Good afternoon, how can I help you?” the blond guy asked. He offered you a friendly smile, which was a stark contrast with the harsh interior of the small shop. 

It was dark in the front of the shop, the only illumination coming from a few industrial light bulbs that gave off a warm yellow-ish hue. Only in the back burned a sharp, bright light that reflected on the red-and-black tiled floor. It was the part of the shop where several tattoo chairs stood lined up. You quickly averted your gaze, not quite ready to look at that area yet. Like a magnet, your eyes were pulled towards the walls. They were completely covered in countless drawings and designs, some simple and bold and others very intricate. Obviously, they were done by very skilled artists, and you looked at them in awe. The neatly folded piece of paper suddenly seemed to burn in your pocket; it was a small tattoo you drew by yourself. You were satisfied with the outcome, but now you couldn’t help but compare it to the pieces on the walls. You shook off the feeling, turning to face the guy behind the counter. 

     “Hello, I have a tattoo appointment scheduled at three,” you told him, mustering a smile in return. 

He checked something on the laptop that stood in front of him, his eyes reading over something on the screen before he hummed in affirmation. 

     “Alright, Kunizukushi is waiting for you,” he said, getting up from the tall stool and opening a small gate in the counter that would allow you to enter the back of the shop, where the tattoo chairs and equipment stood lined up. 

Some of the chairs were occupied, and most of the customers were talking nonchalantly with the artist who leaned over a part of their body with utter concentration. Only one of them, a young female, had her lips tightly pressed together in what seemed like pain, and you felt an even stronger pull of fear in your stomach. Still, you persevered, following the blonde guy as he guided you to a chair in the far back of the shop. There stood an empty chair waiting for you, and a guy – you assumed he would be the one tattooing you – sat with his back towards you as he prepared his gear. You only saw his deep purple hair, swaying softly with every movement he made on his stool. So that was the guy you had to trust, the guy you would allow to mark you with permanent ink. The blonde male wished you good luck and headed back to the counter, and you stood there awkwardly. 

     “Sit down,” the purple-haired artist commanded without turning around. 

You obliged, taking a seat in the large leather tattoo chair. Your body was rigid with stress, and you didn’t lay down. You weren’t ready for that yet. If any, you would procrastinate that very moment for as long as you could. Lying down meant that you were about to get inked and you had yet to wrap your mind around that. It was getting awfully real now but you didn’t quite realize the depth of the situation yet. You knew it – you were about to ink something into your skin permanently, which was quite a big deal – but it didn’t dawn upon yet. Blame it on the nerves, you thought. 

     “So, did you get tattooed before or is it a first for you?” the male inquired, taking the tattoo machine and finally whirling around on his spinning stool. His violet eyes found you, and the intensity of his gaze had you sucking in a breath. 

God, couldn’t they have given you a nicer-looking artist? He was undeniably pretty, with his sharp and fine features, but the scowl on his face made it look like he personally despised you. It made you shift awkwardly as you replied. 

     “It’s my first,” you admitted.

     “Alright, then let me get you through the basics,” he said, sounding bored already. He started talking, not taking his eyes off you as he explained to you everything that you needed to know before getting your first tattoo. His words made your head spin in fear and confusion, especially when he spoke about matters such as needles, permanent ink, and the most feared but also most inevitable one; ‘it’ll hurt’. What had you gotten yourself into? Was it too late to back out?

     “Do you have a design in mind?” the artist asked. Yep, it was too late.

Nodding, you took the crumpled piece of paper from your pocket. It used to be folded neatly, but not much was left from the clean and sharp lines across the drawing. Instead, the paper was laced with tiny wrinkles. A little ashamed, you handed it to the artist, hoping that the messy folds wouldn’t ruin the design you worked so hard on.

     “Hm,” he hummed, taking the piece of paper from your hand. “Decent. Who drew this?” 

     “I did,” you replied. 

As expected, he didn’t reply to that. He kept himself busy with preparing his tools, and you tried your best not to be too intimidated by the ink gun in his gloved hands. That proved itself to be quite a challenge, though, for everything inside this tattoo shop managed to intimidate you – maybe most of all the artist who was about to mark you with permanent ink. There was something about him that reminded you of a thunderstorm; beautiful but terrifying. It was a little scary that you had to put your faith in him. 

     “Where do you want your tattoo?” he questioned.

     “Here,” you replied, pointing at an exposed part of your skin. 

     “Right,” the artist muttered. “Let me prepare the stencil.” 

He sat hunched over a small desk next to the leather chair, and you heard the sound of a pen scraping over paper. It was only a small tattoo that you wanted, so he didn’t take too long and you waited patiently in your seat. Way sooner than you expected him to, he turned around to face you again and showed you the stencil that contained your tattoo design. You had to blink a couple of times as you looked at it, and you had to keep your jaw from dropping.  It was a little different from what you originally drew; you could see he added his personal touch to it and it looked amazing. Right, it was time to take back your earlier thoughts. Suddenly, you were glad this guy was tattooing you, since he turned your already pretty design into something gorgeous. 

     “That’s… beautiful,” you said in awe. “I love it.” 

     “Good,” came the curt reply. “Lay down so I can begin.” His eyes rested solely on you, and you stiffly followed his request. You felt so uncomfortable and vulnerable as you lay in the leather chair, especially when the artist – Kunikuzushi was his name, right? – hovered over you. “Ready?” 

     “Y-Yes,” you brought out, while in fact, the answer was no.

     “You’re cowering,” the male pointed out, not a trace of sympathy. “Quit shaking or it’ll ruin your tattoo.” 

Two things could happen; his snarky comment could either send you right into a fit of nerves and make you chicken out or it could spur you on to toughen up and get yourself the tattoo you’ve wanted for so long. The former would’ve happened, if it wasn’t for Kunikuzushi’s hand landing on your arm and giving a gentle squeeze. Was it meant as a way of comforting you? You slightly tilted your head to look him in his eyes, but his violet gaze gave away absolutely nothing. He was still wearing his perpetual frown, but you were one hundred percent sure that he just attempted to help you relax a little. It sparked some newfound courage within you, and you shifted a little in the leather chair. 

     “Okay, bring it on,” you said, feeling a little more confident. 

     “That’s more like it,” the artist uttered, and a satisfied smile ghosted over his lips before it vanished again. 

And then he got to work. First, he rubbed some jelly on your skin where you wanted your tattoo, before he placed the stencil over it. 

     “Are you sure this is where you want your tattoo?” he asked. “Last chance to change it.” 

     “Yes, I’m sure,” you finalized. 

With a single flick of his finger, the tattoo gun in his hand came to life. You sucked in a deep breath in a last attempt to calm yourself before he placed the needle against your skin and began working on your tattoo. You squirmed upon the alien sensation on your skin, the unpleasant sting of the ink needle quite painful. With a slight push against your shoulder, Kunikuzushi got you to lay still again. For a few minutes, you focused on your breathing and the monotone buzz of the ink gun, allowing yourself some time to get used to the feeling. 

     “Relax,” the artist muttered, lightly touching your arm. “No one has ever died in my chair and you won’t be the first one.” 

You nodded, forcing yourself to take one deep breath and let go of the tension you held in your body. You couldn’t get yourself to look at the needle working its way into your skin over and over again, and your gaze landed on Kunikuzushi instead. His violet eyes were narrowed with utter concentration, and his face was no longer contorted into a scowl. You could tell he probably really liked his job as a tattoo artist, despite seeming so moody earlier. As pretty as he was, even with that permanent scowl pretty, you were delighted to see him with a more relaxed expression. Honestly, his features were a work of art just as much as the tattoos he so skillfully created. 

It actually went pretty well; you were enduring it better than you thought you would, and Kunikuzushi could proceed swiftly without having to remind you to lay still ever again. The sensation of pain subdued to a point where it was bearable and fairly easy to ignore, and you found yourself staring at the ceiling without being bothered too much by the entire process. From TV, you knew that tattoo artists often engaged in light-hearted conversations with their customers, but the violet-haired male kept quiet the entire time. You guessed he just preferred to work in silence, and you found yourself not minding all that much. 

     “You’re actually doing well,” Kunikuzushi remarked, mockingly surprised as he patted your shoulder. “I’m almost finished.” 

Staying true to his word, he worked on the finishing touches of your tattoo sooner rather than later, and then he leaned back and turned off the tattoo gun. It was eerily silent without the constant buzz resonating through the air, and it felt a little awkward as no one spoke up for a good minute or so. Then, finally, Kunikuzushi reached out for a small mirror behind him and held it up in front of you. 

     “It’s done,” he said, stating the obvious. “What do you think?” 

You stared at his creation in awe, watching how it blossomed on your skin. It was beautiful, even exceeding the sketch he made beforehand. Intricate black lines curled over your skin, adorned with the faintest traces of subtle coloring. It was a work of art he had created on your being, and you couldn’t help the wide smile that crossed your features.

     “It’s absolutely stunning,” you gushed, looking at the artist excitedly. “You’re amazing!” 

It was supposed to be merely a thought, but you accidentally spoke those words aloud. Your eyes widened as soon as you realized your small error, but it was already too late. You saw the corners of Kunikuzushi’s lips curl up in a smug grin that was only barely there. But you saw it so clearly, before he turned away to hide it from your view. When he faced you again, the smile was gone.

     “Stay still as I disinfect the place. It might sting,” he warned, dabbing at the tattoo using a sterile gauze soaked in disinfectant. It did sting a little, but it was nothing compared to the needle that had penetrated your skin a few thousand times a moment earlier. You could handle it. 

When he was done cleaning the tattoo, he covered it up neatly using even more sterile gauzes and bandages. Then he finally gestured for you to get up, and you were relieved to do so. It wasn’t that the leather chair was uncomfortable in the slightest, but staying still for too long wasn’t exactly your forte and you were happy to get up. You swung your legs over the side of the chair and rose to your feet. 

     “The guy behind the counter will handle the paperwork and payment, and he will explain to you how to take care of your new tattoo,” Kunikuzushi stated, his face back to his usual grimace. But his eyes softened a little as he added, “I’d like to see you again in a week, if that’s okay with you. I want to check up on your tattoo personally.” 

     “That’s fine by me,” you reacted, wondering what he meant by putting emphasis on personally. Did he usually not do that with his customers? What did that even mean? You let your thoughts run over the matter for a moment, but couldn’t come up with anything that made sense to you. You’d just meet him in a week and see what happened. 

What an interesting guy Kunikuzushi was. A little mean on his outer shell, but sometimes glimpses of something nicer would filter through. You weren’t too sure about having him as your tattoo artist at first, but by now you were happy that it had been him. He was pretty, he was talented, and he intrigued you to no end. 

Who knew? Maybe you’d get another tattoo soon… 

[bubblefina]

No Puppet Strings Attached 3

Summary: When Katsuragi brings a puppet back to Tatarasuna, saying that he found him wandering the shores, the village and blade smiths took him in as their own. Something about the puppet struck a young girl's heart. Despite him not having a heart of his own, the puppet felt something that would seem to be impossible for someone like him to feel.

Pairings: Scaramouche x f!reader

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/n was quieter the next morning, which was odd for someone like her. She didn’t try to make conversation while eating breakfast, nor did she nag at Niwa to pick up after himself before he left to go to the smithy. She was just…silent.

Not only that, but she decided not to go to the smithy either that day. Likewise, she stayed at home and did some chores that were piling up. Furthermore, she washed the clothes and cleaned the house. Everything was spick and span. Sitting at a table, she mindlessly sipped her cup of tea, trying to clear her mind. She stared down at the reflection of her within the tea, remembering her past encounters with the boy.

Her heart began to beat faster until she squealed. Clasping her hands over her face, she fell backwards, mumbling different versions of ‘how did that happen’ ‘why did I say that’ ‘why did he say that’.

It felt as if the room was suffocating her at this point. She dumped the rest of the tea into an empty basin and left. She wanted to avoid an area heavily populated with a lot of people, which would be hard because people were setting up for the sword dance.

It was weird having her walk past a group of people and not ask them what they were up to. Some people were making streamers, while others were sewing clothes special for the dance itself. 

She found herself in a little ledge area that was barred off by a wooden fence. The fence itself looked as if it needed some touch up, which wasn’t surprising considering the rough weather the past winter.

She looked off into the distance, the slight winder wind brushing against her cheeks. All she could think about was last night. It wasn’t a horrible thing to think about, but she wished that she could think about something else for once.

Lost in her thoughts, someone approached her from behind. A soft voice asked her why she was there. Y/n turned around and saw Miyo, she held a basket full of different kinds of food in her hand against her hip. 

“I just need to clear my head.” y/n turns around again to look off into the distance, Miyo walks up to her, putting the basket on the ground.

“Well, if it requires you to come all the way out here, where there is almost no one in sight, then it must be something serious.”

“There are some people who come out here, like Hikari. He makes rounds every once in a while.”

“Don’t change the subject, what’s wrong?”

Y/n bit her lip, wondering if she should tell Miyo about what happened. Since she didn’t have a mother growing up, Miyo may have been the only person who could have filled that role. 

“What does it mean when someone calls you beautiful?” 

Miyo looked taken aback, then her brows furrowed as she took in the question.

“Did someone call you beautiful?”

“T-that's not the question I'm asking. What does it mean.”

Miyo chuckles, “From what I know, it may mean that the person likes you. You can’t just call anyone beautiful, the word has a deeper level of appreciation than just any other compliment.”

Y/n’s face began to heat up once more. Did the boy like her? Did she like him? These types of feelings are not easy to process, especially for a person who never had them before.

Miyo had to return to her chores, leaving y/n alone in her thoughts once more. Perhaps she was putting too much thought into what had happened, it could have been a slip of the tongue. What was so special about the boy calling her beautiful anyway.

She leaned against the fence, wanting to soak in the air for a little longer until she had to go back. She had leaned too far for a moment, putting too much weight onto the already weak wooden frame. 

The wood began to crack, and much to her surprise, snapped in half. Before she could react to what was happening, she began to fall forward. Since there was nothing to hold onto to hold her back, her body passed the ledge, and she began to fall for a moment before she grappled onto vines growing from the bottom of the ledge. 

Her heart pounded, anxiety filling her veins. The drop-down wasn’t enough to kill her, but it was certain to leave an injury. 

Through her loud heaving breaths, she yelled for help. Useless, no one was around. Except for Hikari, and she didn’t know when he would come around for his rounds. 

The vines couldn’t hold her weight, they began to snap, and before long all of them broke, and she plunged towards the ground. Miraculously, a hefty tree branch managed to break her fall, before she fell onto the ground completely. The impact wasn’t as strong as it would have been, but it was still painful.

She felt an increasing pain in her ankle, as well as what felt like burning on her cheeks. Her kimono was tattered in many places, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

She could only lay there in defeat as slow sobs began to escape her throat.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

 The smithy was naturally chatty. It was only the middle of the day, the metal of the swords that were being battered could be heard from way outside. It was just a normal day for the blade smiths.

It was normal until a young man ran into the smithy, his hand on the door as he frantically looked around.

“Niwa!” he shouted, “It’s y/n, she hurt herself.”

Niwa put down the sword he was working on. His eyes slightly shook as he took in the words.

“What…what happened?” Niwa asks.

“She fell off the ledge near the outskirts of the village. It's the one with the fence that needed fixing.”

Niwas feet began to move on their own, and both him and the young man started to run back towards the village. Katsuragi followed, and the boy watched for a few seconds before he too ran after them.

They reached a house that belonged to the village medic. A few people were in the room already, but they cleared out once Niwa and the others rushed inside.

“Y/n?1” Niwa asks, fear in his voice as he sees his sister being wrapped in bandages. Her hair is a mess, eyes red from crying and scratches on her cheeks.

“Niwa?” she whispers.

Niwa hugs her, to which she returns with a wince.

“Careful there. There may be bruises underneath. She’s lucky that she isn’t unconscious.” the medic says, finishing up the wrappings on her ankle.

“What were you thinking? Why did you go there, of all places? You know the winter was bad this year, a lot of the outdoor furnishings and boundaries need repairing.” Niwa begins to scold his sister.

“I just…” she notices kabukimono standing near the entrance of the door, he looks worried too, “I needed some air. I leaned forward too much and the fence snapped.”

“Well, you won't be leaning on anything any time soon. Your ankle had some damage done to it.” The medic slightly squeezes her ankle, causing y/n to yelp.

“Is it serious?” Katsuragi asks.

“No, not life-threatening. I don’t know how she did it, but there aren’t any serious injuries. Just keep off of this foot for a week, and it’ll be fine.”

“Don’t worry, I won't let her out of the house until she heals.” Niwa says.

“B-but the sword dance is in a week, I can’t miss that!” Y/n argues, but Niwa doesn’t listen. He simply picks her up in his arms and begins to walk back to their home.

“Niwa, I’m sure that in a week I’ll be fine. Please don’t make me miss the sword dance.”

“I can’t take any chances, you need to rest up and not put too much pressure on that ankle of yours. I’ll swing by every hour or so to check up on you.”

When they got back to their home, Niwa placed y/n on her futon. He brought a glass of water and a small bowl of snacks, so she wouldn’t have to get up to eat.

“I’ll be back, just rest up for now.” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“Is something wrong?” Katsuragi asks the boy.

They had continued practicing for the sword dance, but unfortunately all the boy could do was trip over his own feet. It's as if his mind was elsewhere. The boy mumbled an apology before sitting down to take a break.

“We’re not going to get anywhere if you don’t tell us what's going on. You were doing perfectly fine yesterday.” Katsuragi sits beside him.

The boy's voice is caught in his throat. He stares at Niwa for a split second before looking down again. Only the three of them were in the occupied space.

“Just concerned…” he trailed off.

“About what?” Niwa asks.

He bit his lip before continuing, “about y/n”

Katsuragi and Niwa glanced at each other.

“About her injury? Don’t worry, she’s fine, in fact she’s probably fast asleep in her room right now.” Niwa assures the boy, but it doesn’t seem to work.

“I don’t think it's that simple. I’ve never felt this way before. This squeezing feeling in my chest area, as if I saw her in her injured state, that's all I could think about.”

“Your heart? It felt as if it was being squeezed?” Katsuragi asks.

The boy's eyes shake for a second, he looks as if he is in despair.

“I don't…” he trails off once more, “I don’t have a heart.” 

The room remained silent. No one knew how to respond to his sudden confession of not owning a vital organ that every human needs to live.

“I am merely a puppet, there is nothing human about me.”

Now in deeper anguish, the boy sighed, afraid to look into the eyes of the two people who he considered to be the closest with.

“Nonsense,” Niwa stated, “You’re just as much of a human as anyone else.”

“Niwa, I don’t think you understand. I was created by the-”

“Listen to me,” Niwa places his hands on the boys’ shoulder, “I am well aware of what a puppet means, but that doesn’t mean that you are any different from the rest of us.” 

Katsuragi also joins in, hand on the boy's back to show support.

“You are a human, just a human that lacks a heart. The rest is as human as anyone else as far as I can see.” Niwa smiles, reassuring the boy.

“Then how can my chest feel like it was being closed when I saw y/n in the state she was in.” 

Both Katsuragi and Niwa laugh.

“You’re worried about her, because you obviously care a lot about her,” Katsuragi swings his arm around the back of the boy's neck, bringing him closer, “catching feelings for little ol y/n aren’t we?”

The boy becomes flustered, doing his hardest to get away from Katsuragi, but Katsuragi obviously being stronger doesn’t budge away from teasing the boy.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

The night of the sword dance was here. The village set up different decorations, especially around the small stage where the dance would be taking place. 

Small lanterns set up all over, which would be ignited when it got close to sunset.

Both Katsuragi and Kabukimono had dressed in brand-new kimonos special for the occasion. After the both of them were dressed, they waited until the sky turned dark, and then made their way over towards the stage.

There was a fairly big crowd, the entire village was there. The elderly, children, all of the above.

The boy tugged at his sleeves, slightly nervous. He looked around in the crowd.

There was the old man who he helped a few weeks ago to clean out his yard. A woman who needed help carrying baskets of food back to the village. A man who he helped carry wood to rebuild some areas around the village.

He continued to scan the crowd until his eyes landed on a special figure. It was y/n, very front of the crowd. She was sitting down on a cut down log, Niwa sitting beside her, so she wouldn’t have to get up for something.

Both of them locked eyes with each other. Y/n gives a smile, and slightly claps with her hands. The boy exhales, it feels as if the weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. Y/n shouts good luck before the start of the dance.

Both Katsuragi and the boy danced together with grace. Following each other's movements swiftly, handing off the crafted claymore to one another before it was thrown into the air. The boy had flipped forward and caught it in his hand, signaling the end of the dance.

The crowd began to clap and cheer. Heaving through exhaustion, both of them left the stage and went to talk to people amongst the crowd. Niwa had left y/n for a brief moment to talk to both of them, much to her displeasure. She, too, wanted to talk amongst the crowd, but she couldn’t.

After a few minutes, she noticed the boy walking away from the crowd. He looked as if he was walking towards the wooded area the both of them were at a week ago. Hoping that Niwa wouldn’t notice, she crept off of her seat and followed the boy to the wooded area.

Her ankle had gotten better over the past week, but she still couldn’t put too much pressure on it, or else it would start to ache. Her walking would look like limping, which it was.

After what felt like ages, she had finally caught up to him. He was standing in the same spot as last time, but he looked conflicted.

“Has this become your new favorite place?” she asks, limping towards him.

He looks shocked to see her, but immediately walks towards her and takes her hand, not wanting her to walk more than she needed to.

“You came all this way?” he asks.

“Well, it’s not like I had any other way to talk to you. You didn’t even come over to see me once when the dance was over.”

He looks down, “I apologize. It wasn’t my intention to be rude.”

She lifts his face up with a finger on his chin, “You weren’t being rude, I just wanted to let you know that you did amazing out there. Both you and Katsuragi did great.”

“Thank you… I wasn’t expecting to see you there, if I’m being honest.”

“Haha, yeah, me neither, but Niwa surprisingly was adamant of me going. Something about you being worried about me.”

If the boy truly did have a heart, at this moment it would have skipped a beat. He felt slightly flustered, but he brushed it off.

“I was. I couldn’t help but think that you were outside ‘thinking’ because of what I said the night before.”

She slowly began to sit down on the bloom blossoms, he followed her.

“Well you aren’t wrong, what you had said…what both of us said kept repeating in my mind over and over again, and I didn’t know what to take from it. It was the first time someone had called me that.” 

“It was the first time I had called someone that as well.”

Both of them shared a laugh. For once the coldness in the air didn’t matter, both of them felt as if a flame had ignited inside them both. As if their company had created a warmth that could withstand even the harshest of weathers.

“Did you mean it…what you said?” y/n asks.

“Of course. I don’t think I’ve ever seen something so…captivating before. The sight has been ingrained in my mind, too.”

Y/n’s hand crawled towards him. Her fingers slightly interlaced with his, she leaned in slightly, and he began to follow. Both of their faces were inches away from each other. There was slight hesitation from both of them.

“Do you want to?” the boy asks.

“Yes” she whispers back.

Both of them inch closer until their lips touch. It was a weird contrast, his lips felt cold against hers, but she didn’t mind. He leaned in more, caressing the back of her neck with his hand. 

As if time itself had stopped at that moment, neither of them really paid attention to how long they had been attached to one another. It just felt too good to let go. During each passing moment, both of their bodies came closer and closer, until there was not even a crack to be seen in between them.

Y/n’s hand ventured and gripped onto his kimono, she needed something to compose herself with, or rather something that she could hold onto for support. 

The boy could feel her heart pounding through the pulse in her neck. He, too, wished he could share the same bodily reaction, but that wasn’t a problem. Whatever heavy feeling he had felt in his chest was now replaced with something elevated. It felt like something was fluttering, butterflies swarming around.

The feeling only intensified when he went back in for more. Her lips were hypnotic, so soft against his. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to feel like this again, so he wanted to savor every moment, every movement, every noise.

When they finally did let go, both stared into each other's eyes for a brief moment. Y/n smiled and leaned her head on his chest, the boy leaned his head on hers.

Whatever feeling this was inside of him, he didn’t want to let it go. It made him feel alive, for a puppet like him, it’s all he ever wanted to feel. He may not have his own heart, but the beat of hers against his own skin was enough to make him feel like a human.

Niwa was right, he’s just as much of a human as anyone else, even if he didn’t have a heart. 

[redactedbimbo]

Hello

Scaramouche/ wanderer sounds like Meddle About by Chase Atlantic 😋

Thats it, thats my ted talk thank you for listening

[uhzuku]

SCARAMOUCHE TOOPPSPSKSOS

scaramouche jumps when an orange slice is placed in his hand.

it was fully peeled, all of the icky white stuff that no one liked pulled away to reveal the soft orange flesh beneath. the wedge was thick and the skin beneath soft, and he looks up to see you diligently peeling another piece for him, not even paying attention to his surprised gaze as you get to work. he’d told you he didn’t need to eat — you’d understood that.

but you’d also remembered that oranges were his favorite fruit if he did eat.

a lump forms in his throat and his brow furrows as he struggles to swallow it down. he wouldn’t say thank you, it wasn’t in his nature. saying thank you meant being in the person thanked’s debt, and scaramouche hated owing anyone anything — but maybe not you.

no, not you. not anymore.

[writingwithoutthestars]

Scara/Kuni SFW & NSFW

Finally got around to making a blog just for writing!

CW: lots of cursing, mentions of trauma & violence, Yandere vibes & behavior, I think that's it

SFW

I mean, what hasn’t been said about this asshole? He’s equal parts adorable and aggravating and you just want to bang your head against a wall - Why is he both?! You’ve lost it, you’ve officially lost it, and it’s all his fault.

First of all, he’s smug. The smuggest little shit you’ve ever met. He knows he’s a badass and he’s not holding back any more, not after everything he’s been through. (He will not be betrayed again.) He’s a bit narcissistic, defending himself with equal parts real and false bravado and refusing to take accountability for his transgressions. Don’t be fooled: deep within his heart is a broken boy who’s been spiraling into cynicism and insecurity since his mother dumped him. His life has been a landslide since, never safe or consistent, so he’s compensated for his vulnerability with power, as much power as he can fucking get.

Honestly, it’s gonna be an uphill battle with him for a long time. Even far later into your relationship, there will be some explosive times. He’d never hurt you, ever. He’d spiral into madness if he did. But we all know how sharp his tongue is and if you’re the more sensitive type, you’re gonna need to learn how to thicken your skin and roll with the punches quick. Ultimately, it will be worth it, but it’s gonna take a lot of work to get there. 

Depending on when you meet him, you’ll experience him in three stages: 1) sweet summer child, 2) fuck the world, and 3) utterly unhinged. Your relationship will reflect these stages, too. If you meet him before the fall, he’ll be naive and curious. After the fall, with the Fatui, he’s cold and cunning. After the gnosis falls through, he’s feral and the most likely to become straight up yandere. 

Really, there’s 2 main outcomes for a relationship with him make a simulator: Route 1 is the Healing Journey and Route 2 is The Unhinged Yandere. It’s a lot of pressure, but this progression ultimately depends on you. 

Kuni after The Fall™, aka Scaramouche, is obviously a total jerk, but he’s more open to eventual healing compared to the Wanderer. Again, he’s a menace, loves to push buttons and hold his power over others. He doesn’t trust kindness or love and keeps himself safe from it by pushing it away. He’d never admit it, but he craves closeness, which is why he lashes out like he does. He hates that he wants it because of what it’s done to him, how it’s tortured him and twisted him throughout his long life. He just doesn’t see how he could possibly trust another person ever again. But all is not lost. No one ever is forever. There are choices to be made.

Your relationship with him will develop in stages. At first, you’re just a meatsack to him, another person to keep an eye on while he decides whether or not you’re a threat. He’s provocative, wants to get a rise out of you to see what you’ll do. If you take it in stride, he’s honestly a little floored. He just insulted you, why aren’t you pissed? Will poke and prod literally with a stick lmao and ends up finding you both frustrating and fascinating. This is the sticking point for him (haha): once you affect him, he’s stuck on you, wanting to find your weakness and fumbling in the process. Absolutely engages in banter battles and always wants the last laugh. But when that last laugh is yours, he’s totally the type to get all flustered and frustrated about it. Sticks out his tongue and calls you a dumb name hahaha just laugh and keep walking or he might throw a rock at you. 

Very enemies-to-lovers trope lol probably more so “enemies” on his side because everyone is in his perspective. For you, unless he really grates you the wrong way, it’s more of a comedic slow-burn. He’s just so easy to tease! You’re the only person who can make him flush and spit at the same time, the only one who can get away with messing with him without being threatened with the sharp end of a blade. He hates that he keeps coming back to you for more. Even when he defeats you, he’s never sated. Why? What is it about you that’s got him stuck??

Eventually, he realizes that he actually enjoys being around you and goes into a cold sweat. How could this happen?! No, no, this can’t be real, it’s okay, it’s fine, calm down. There’s no way that’s true. It’s not true. It is true. He’s fucked. But he’s the best at being in denial so there’s that. Takes it out on you and even tries running away. Is secretly terrified of being in the same room as you, especially alone. Yet you keep managing to find him and, for a moment, he always finds himself letting some of his guard down with you. For a blissful moment, nothing else exists but your smile and laughter and how they came from him. And it hits him all at once that you enjoy being around him, too.

No, no, no. This is bad. This is wrong. He’s not meant for - this, whatever this is…What is this? He enjoys being around you and you enjoy being around him, okay, yes. But what does that mean? What does that make you? Are you…friends? No! No, he doesn’t have friends. They’ll only hold him back or break him down even more when they inevitably betray him. Friends make one weak and he. is. not. weak! 

But it continues on, the banter and the laughing and eating together - eating together! He needs to stop this, but he keeps coming back to you. It drives him crazy. Like a bug caught in a web, he struggles to free himself until he wears himself out. Then, he takes an almost complete 180: he starts monitoring you to the point of stalking you. You may even catch him in the act and he’ll deny it, but you can feel his eyes on you just about everywhere you go. There’s two main reasons why he’s doing this. One, he wants to ensure that you’re not somehow going to stab him in the back or sell information about him. Two, and he’ll never admit this, is because he’s terrified of something bad happening to you. He’s become attached. He relies on your presence in his life now but he won’t admit it to himself yet.

It all comes to a head when he’s injured in a fight and you start to care for him. He’s so scared of being touched by you, feels so weak and exposed and enraged about it; all that trauma is bubbling up like bile and he’s overwhelmed and he breaks down right then and there, against his will. 

“Don’t touch me!” he shouts, stumbling away from you like a wild animal blindly thrashing against the back wall of a cage. “I don’t need your help! I don’t need help! I’m not weak!” 

The forest is dark with twilight and in his fervor, he can’t quite track his feet. You watch grimly as he collapses against a rock and buckles over, barely managing to hold himself up by his hands planted on the dirt. He crouches there, trembling and hyperventilating, and his fingernails claw the earth into his fists. 

He has never loathed himself more. He swore he’d never break down like this. It’s pathetic. You must think he’s so amusing. And you’d be right. He was made to be. He’s just a puppet and a puppet’s sole purpose is to entertain. Who was he kidding, thinking he could be anything else? 

And then you’re sinking down onto your knees in front of him and he freezes. He can’t find the power to hide from you. He’s utterly exposed; if you try to cut him down now, he doesn’t know how he’ll stop you, but he’ll die trying, won’t he? Why does the thought of hurting you make him feel even more pathetic?

“You’re one of the strongest people I know,” you tell him. “Even if you weren’t, I’d still want to be with you.”

Surely you’re only mocking him, using him - but when he looks up, all he sees is grief, like you can see into the core of him and are hurt by it. Stupid. How could you possibly understand? Why would you want to? 

Fuck you for never having an ulterior motive. Fuck your compassion. His hollow body can’t hold warmth, but when he’s with you, he feels it. It scares him, reminds him of what he’s been through, and yet he can’t let go of you. The only time he feels like there’s anything more meant for him is when he’s with you. 

Relationship Unlocked

Seriously, the day you embrace him in all of his mess is the day something in him finally breaks. He’s obsessed with you now, possessive and protective, panicked if you’re out of his sight for too long. A relationship is entirely new grounds for him and he’s terrified out of his mind by the implications of something so intimate. He thought he was broken before, but if he loses you, he’s certain he’ll crash completely. He needs you, needs to make sure you’re safe, that you’ll stay with him, that no one takes you away. 

How things end up is really on you. If you’re freaked out, he gets more desperate and will eventually cross into full-on yandere territory. If you stand your ground and continue to treat him like you always have, open and honest, he’ll slowly, slowly settle down. He’s still terrified of losing you, but the more consistent you are, the more trust he’s willing to put in you. 

It takes time and a lot of patience to temper your relationship. Kuni’s always gonna be a bit yandere, but depending on the route your relationship takes, that part of him will express itself with differing levels of intensity. Full-On Yandere Kuni completely loses himself to an animalistic nature, but Healing Kuni is way more chill. 

Eventually, he’s back to bantering with you to the point of insult, but never goes too too far. He’ll spar with you and mock you and be the smuggest little shit you’ve ever met, but it’s more companionable than domineering now. He’s not interested in holding any power over you; he considers you equals now, though he’d never admit that outright. 

(worried) Pathetic! You know, you’d die if this was a real fight!

(blushing) Would you stop staring at me? It’s creepy.

(smug) Ugh, you’re so annoying, wanting my attention all the time. Maybe if you do something to deserve it…

(lonely) Is your paperwork more important than your relationships? Is it really that hard to multitask? I - I’m not looking for attention! Shut up!

(got em) Damn, you suck at this. I easily pinned you down - wait, that’s what you were going for, isn’t it?!

Absolute Tsundere.

Still, it’s apparent in how he treats you that he worships you. He considers your opinions and insights, takes your preferences into account, pretends to just randomly finds trinkets you could surely find some use for even though you were just talking about it the other day, pouts when other people have your attention or when you’re too busy to spend all of your time with him, acts like a total grump when you love on him yet he’s also leaning into you and resting his chin on your shoulder - look, we’ll be here all day talking about how adorable he is. You are the center of his universe; the things he gives you - attention, adoration, kindness, consideration, protection - will only ever be given to you alone. And…maybe a kid. But not for a long time.

But he’s still got that mean streak in him that will never go away, especially when it comes to other people. He’s gone through too damn much to be with you just to lose you. No, fuck everyone else, if they think they can get closer to you than you are to him, he’s about to ruin. their. life. 

The type to straight up shit talk someone to their face. Mocks them for thinking they had a shot in the dark with you. It’s painfully obvious that you’re into him and no one else, or maybe this moron is in denial? That’s okay, maybe if I hit you hard enough, your brain will start working again. Roughs them up like a vending machine lmao. 

If you tell him to let it go, he’ll argue with you, but will ultimately do as you say. Looks like you’re lucky today, pissant. But that shitface gets one chance, if Kuni so much as sees them loitering around or if they make a comment about his obedience to you, they’re gonna get it even worse than they would have. Doesn’t usually happen because most people can see the derangement in his eyes and his vibe is absolutely lethal. But every once in a while, some poor, stupid soul will challenge him. They may or may not live to regret it, highly depends on your opinion and the type of infraction against you.

He’s like Shrek. Hear me out: he’s got layers. Many, many layers. Lots of insecurities, the main one being that he’s not meant to have good things. Got an absolute ogre of a temper and he’s an asshole to everyone, but way less of an asshole to the ones he loves. In fact, it’s because of you that he even starts to believe that maybe he’s deserving and loveable. Also acts like an unwilling knight-in-shining-armor but lowkey feels like such a badass when he’s got you oohing and aahing over him. Also, fucking LOVES it when you kick ass for him, he feels like a pampered prince. Will even try to get you jealous just to make you possessive. Fuck, nothing is hotter than when you’re possessive of him.

Jealousy. Lots of jealousy, especially earlier on in the relationship due to paranoia. You could just be talking to someone in passing and he’ll start glaring, inching closer to you or full on storming up to your side if he’s not already beside you. He practically snarls and drags you along. If it’s a work related interaction, he stands nearby, arms crossed and eyes darkened with distrust. Threatens people who seem to like your attention too much, but not when you’re around. If you do find out what he’s doing, feel free to set him straight. It pisses him off, but if you can be both reassuring and hold your boundaries, he’ll relent. 

He doesn’t dance around anything but his feelings, so if anyone seems to be bothersome, he’s going to bring it up to you. Sometimes the solution is as simple as a hug and a kiss, but other times, there needs to be some reassurance. Over time, he finds himself needing less of it, but it still lights him up inside to hear you say it and he will intentionally pester you until you do. He thinks he’s being sly, but you know better lol. It’s actually really fun to coyly tease him because it will either go right over his head that you’re pushing his frustration to the point of pouncing on you or he’ll get all flustered and angry and short-circuits when you finally cave and love on him. Acts like he hates you for it but you both know that couldn’t be further from the truth!

He also isn’t afraid to tell you if something you’ve done has rubbed him the wrong way and expects you to do the same in return. Admittedly, it can be hard to take and give critique at first unless you’re the more straightforward type. On one hand, Kuni can come across super judgemental and aggressive, and when paired with criticism, it can feel like an attack. And, I mean, it kind of is. He doesn’t always realize he’s doing it, but he’s been in survivalism for so long that offense has become his primary mode. He also tends to argue when you bring something up. But again, as he relaxes into your relationship, he becomes a little less offensive and more candid than anything. 

You’re not gonna hit anything with form like that. Try this. 

Your footwork is shit. Doesn’t matter if it worked, you left your backside completely vulnerable. A bug could stab you and you’d be helpless to stop it. I don’t know why a bug would have a knife, doesn’t matter, my case still stands, anything could end you like that. 

I’m in the middle of something, stop bothering me. We can talk all you want over lunch.

You are in a mood today, what’s your problem? (But like seriously is asking you so he can help.)

I told you, I’m fine! Fuck, care less! I can handle this! 

I could go on and I probably will later, but all in all, a relationship with Kuni is well worth it in the long-run. You are his sun, moon, stars, and sky, and he shows you that everyday in his own way. You challenge one another in many ways, but all of the best relationships involve growth pains!

NSFW

A switch that fights to be a dom and always sounds like a bottom haha. Also a total brat. Whether he’s topping or bottoming, he’s gonna talk shit even when he’s writhing from how stupid he’s been fucked. So loud. You look so stupid. Did I do that? Am I fucking you so good you’ve gone stupid? Ohhh, fuuuck yes, cum on me, cum on me! Doesn’t even mean to be, you just feel so good and he trusts you more than anything. He also loves feeling powerful and nothing gets him off more than the power he holds over your body, fucking you into oblivion. You’re so responsive to him, so attracted to him, it blows his mind that someone could love him so much. His voice gets raspy when he’s close to cumming. Sometimes laughs when he cums, breathless and so satisfied he could bounce off the walls. 

His cock could go one of two ways: 1) his current form has one already or 2) he can have one made for him (or several? hmmm). Anyway - his cock is so pretty and the flushed tip is so suckable. It’s not super long or thick, but it’s got a nice curve that hits you right in the best places. When he grinds into you, that curve brings stars to your eyes and this smug tease knows it. He’ll grind into you like he’s cockwarming until you’re losing your shit and begging him for relief. Too much for you? So scream. Maybe that’ll help.

Is condescending as hell. Yeah, I know it feels good. Feels too much. Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay. Keep cumming. Will make you beg for what you want, too, and then gives it to you suddenly just to surprise you. Thinks it’s cute (it’s mean!). Most of all, wants you to tell the world that you’re his, that you belong to him. Say that you belong to me. Say it. Say it! Don’t. fucking. stop! Is immediately so close to cumming his brains out when you scream it out. If you save it for when he’s just about to cum, he’ll immediately fall off the edge with his toes curling and eyes rolled back in his head. 

It’s so easy to get him riled up, too, you can make a bingo game out of it lmao. Jealousy, anger, victory, sadness, adrenaline from a battle, wearing his clothes or something even incrementally skimpy,

Kisses you passionately and typically doesn’t care if people are around. Just wants everyone to see him marking you, see you marking him, and know for certain that nothing can come between you. But he has times where he’ll kiss you so tenderly and slowly. Happens once you’re both sated, when he feels so close to you it fills him up, when you’re cuddling or one of you is having a bad day, and when he’s making love to you, which doesn’t happen as often as fucking, but that makes it even more special.

Dirty secret time: If he’s feeling jealous/possessive, he loves to set up a make out session with you when and where he knows the person he’s wary of will catch you. Will not allow anyone else to see you exposed - only he gets that honor - but if he’s feeling particularly pissed off about another person, he’ll drag you somewhere private where he knows they’ll hear him seducing you. May or may not tell you what he’s doing. Hands against the wall. Don’t you fucking move them. I wanna see how long you can stand while I’m pumping you. No, don’t you shut up on me! Say it louder! Say. My. Name! 

Absolutely fierce with his tongue. Loves loves loves oral, giving and receiving, it makes him feel so powerful to worship and be worshiped. He doesn’t always have the patience for foreplay, but he’s got to taste you at least once during a session. Is sometimes so nasty, he’ll eat both of your essences off of you and can’t help but cant his hardening dick for some relief. If he’s feeling particularly possessive, he’ll suck and bite down on you for hours, pinning you down by the pelvis as he nudges his nose deeper. You can clamp your thighs around his head, buck your hips, writhe all over the sheets, but he won’t show you mercy; he gets off of torturing you until you’re numb and your voice is hoarse. 

When receiving, he loses his mind. Tries to string his fucked out braincells to form a sentence but devolves into babbling. Ugh, fuck, there! There there there, I - can’t - deep. So so so deep, I - ugh! Will fuck your throat like he’s riding a bull, you’ll probably need to pin him down. In fact, do it anyway and make him take it, he might scream with frustration when he cums. 

His fingers are so long and lithe, they fit so deeply into you. And they’re so smooth, they enter you without the need for much prep. Scissors and rams himself deeper, laughing when you cry out. His fingers will crawl across your thighs and outline your sex underneath tables. If you get him back, he’ll give you the angriest, dirtiest look because now he’s not gonna be able to stop thinking about putting you in your place. Taking control pisses him off and is a great gateway to rough sex and it’s so much fun! Will go one of two ways: he’s either gonna fight for dominance and fuck your soul out of your body or he’s gonna be forced to take it like a good boy, cursing and shit talking with the remnants of his desire for control. Honestly loves it when you take control, he knows you’re not going to hurt him or ignore him if something is too much, but you’ve gotta earn it first. He’ll still fight back a bit, but he feels so so so good when you’re using him and praising him and maybe clamping a hand down on his throat, he could cry.

While he’s down to try just about anything once, he’s not interested in anything you’re not vibing with. He’s obsessed with you, worships you, the last thing he wants is to betray you. Feels like absolute trash if he screws up or hurts you in a way that isn’t welcomed by you during sex and will be really quiet for a while. He’s beating himself up on the inside. Reassure him that things happen during sex that no one can account for and that doesn’t make someone a bad person; still, it’s good to talk about these things. In the long run, he’ll still feel bad about it, but he’ll also become quicker to move on if you want to keep going.

Loves to choke and be choked. Semi-public sex is so hot to him, like taking you on a balcony overlooking a beautiful city or in a deserted area out in nature. Also loves to blindfold you and keep you guessing. Not a big fan of kinks that would hinder his control, like bdsm or being cuffed and blindfolded himself. Maybe if he’s blindfolded without the cuffs or vice versa. He trusts you more than anything, but it doesn’t feel good for him to be totally at your mercy; he doesn’t feel totally safe. Sometimes he’s down for it, but usually, he just feels really uncomfortable.

I could go on and I want to, but then we’d be here forever. In conclusion, Kuni is a freak but also a sweetheart in his own way. Kind of gives me Levi Ackerman vibes, anyone else??

[genshinimpactlife]

Could you write headcanons of The Wanderer reacting to a giant strong woman (24 feet tall) who gave wealthy desert dweller warlord vibes sleeping inside a huge cave he wanted to explore

She wakes up sniffs the air and tells him to show himself and to not be afraid, she won't hurt him. Once he shows himself much to his surprise she calls him an adorable little baby boy gently patting the head and cheek with a knuckle and offering him berries she found nearby.

She didn't tell much about herself only that she shouldn't be here but she felt sleepy. And she asks him why he is in a dangerous place like that, treating him like a kid.

Wanderer with a Giant Woman

The last thing Wanderer expected to come across in the cave was such a large woman.

She was dressed in Furs, and different kinds of exotic jewelry hung from her body as she slept.

She took notice of his presence even before he noticed her, and within seconds she was up on her feet, calling for him to come out.

Wanderer was taken aback now that the woman was standing up. Her head reached the top of the large cave. She was big enough to squish him like a bug.

He didn't trust that she wouldn't hurt him, so he was cautious as he stepped out from the shadows.

The stern look on the woman's face immediately melted as she looked down at Wanderer.

"Oh sweet boy! What are you doing in a place like this?" The woman only had to take one step to make her way over to him, immediately patting his head

"Don't you know it's dangerous here! You should be careful."

Wanderer was, of course, pissed at being treated like this. Who did this woman think she was talking to him like a child?

The next thing he knew, she was shoving berries in his face, attempting to get him to eat. He knocked the berries out of her hands, to which she frowned.

"Do you not like them? Or are you not hungry sweet baby boy"

"Will you stop calling me that! Just who are you anyway?"

The woman just shrugged her shoulders before sitting down, tossing a few of the berries into her mouth.

"I'm sleepy."

The large woman then just laid down on the ground and went right back to sleep. Leaving the Wanderer standing there dumbstruck

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[kyuuppi]

Wanderer has a lot of anxiety but refuses to acknowledge it as such. When you try to tell him that imagining a detailed, drama-esque scenario including alternative plotlines before every social interaction and that immediately assuming something terrible must have happened to you when you're just five minutes late from work isn't normal, he refuses to believe you.

[thundersoothers]

I’m thinking of starting a series “voiceline imagines” ...??

where if a character has a specific voice line I resonate with or y’all like, I’d write a short imagine/scenario for it. examples: 

1. itto has a line about lollipops being his fav candy and that it looks cool when the stick is hanging out of your mouth, and he says, “here, you try!” and I imagine him holding your jaw in his hand and taking the lollipop from his mouth and putting it yours 

2. any of kazuha’s about traveling. maybe where you’re laying out in the sun together like from his voiceline about taking naps on a warm rock and then wandering around, or you’re the one to take him in on a rainy night and distract him from the storm 

3. wanderer’s birthday voiceline about holding your hand and leading you up to a vantage point because the scenery is breathtaking; I can see him just not letting you leave. you try to pull your hand away and he just. won’t let go

4. y’all got ideas??

[bluelockmaniac]

thinking about how your husband changes drastically when he’s had just a little too much to drink. his faint, whiny hiccups would escape his quivering lips, filling your ears with his intoxication as he leans against you. he reaches out to play with your hair, gently tugging at the strands and trailing undirected kisses along them as you bite your lip to suppress your giggles. he then brings his unsteady hands to your face, squishing your cheeks before pulling you closer, looking at you with glossy eyes—small hearts seemingly etched into his pupils.

"i wish y-you hic were mineee...."

"pftt—" you burst into a fit of laughter at his uncharacteristic neediness—you’ve always enjoyed it when he'd get drunk. after all, they say a drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts. so, although he loves you an awful lot, he would never admit, while whining, how much he actually wants you. 

"i am yours though, sweetheart," you reassure him softly.

“oh, really? you are?” he raises his brows questionably, “well, that's good... i couldn't bear the thought of some other loser having you all to himself."

unbeknownst to him, however, is that you had recorded him during his moment of vulnerability. he was absolutely embarrassed and ashamed of himself when he had sobered up.

—

"y/n. delete that."

itoshi rin, kaiser, MIKAGE REO, barou, XIAO, kaveh, alhaitham, wriothesley, neuvillette, CHILDE, geto, megumi, BLADE, dan heng, dr ratio, aventurine, scaramouche

© 2024 bluelockmaniac — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

[bbonnenuit]

My Heart.

Scaramouche x F! Reader

notes: arranged marriage, some implied power imbalance but ultimately it is still fluff. I actually finished this fic on 11th november, but i got sick and didnt get to post it. so can we all pretend i posted this on 11/11? word count: 3.6k

Your mother’s words to you before she had left your hand in marriage to The Balladeer, the 6th Harbinger was to treat that as if this marriage was based on politics, class, and everything important and tangible even thought the true intentions behind this marriage is unknown, it'd be safer to treat it as such. While not outright said, she says those words with the means for you to forlorn any nonsensical musings you had subjected yourself to. And on that day she had seized your hopeless dreams of an awaited, lovely marriage, like ones that you have read from books from Fontaine and Mondstadt.

   It should be noted that since infancy you had very little control of your own fate. For a moment, you wished that you hadn’t been introduced to literature then. To let your mind run wild, be fed beautiful hope, then for all of it to be destroyed by ink on paper, the one that binds your fate to another permanently, further closing off anything else you have ever dreamed of. Now, you are far away from anything you can call home, and stuck with the man who rarely speaks to you, only eyeing you from afar.

   Your husband- one that is betrothed to you for reasons you are dying to unravel, while rich enough to perhaps stop his career early on yet live the rest of his life and yours in most comfort (in multiple lifetimes, even!) , has the least disagreeable personality to mankind. Not so much to you, but very much so to others, yet whenever he treats people around him with such pernicious manners, you’re inclined to grit your teeth when you can sense the palpable air of importance and arrogance he exudes wherever he goes. And though some may find the trope of ‘mean to others, but not to me!’ trope endearing, this is one of the examples of when the trope falls short. You can’t even say he treats you well, nor does he treat you badly. 

   Around you, you’d say that he is always holding back. Not just in anger, but in everything else. Lips pursed so tightly, they are as thin as the patience he has for others- oh, but you, yes, that’s what the estate’s servants keeps telling you. You don’t know if they're forced to repeat those words under Scaramouche's rule or what. Or perhaps he really is treating you well simply by… acting like a decent human being who still has anger issues, just not as bad as the ones he imposes on others. Huh, what a compliment! You remind yourself to sarcastically say that out loud next time they tell you of his 'benevolence' once more.

  In truth, he is just there and you as his pretty companion. What an awkward, far from ideal relationship that you had in mind. You joked in your letters to your friends that you must be some sort of pendant for him to wear in front of others. Although wouldn’t such an act be more suitable for someone of a higher status? While it is factual that your family holds some sort of power over the business in Inazuma it is not as big as what the Tri-Commissions hold. And surely,  a man with such power would prefer someone like that? Then is it personality? Looks? No, no, scratch that. There is a more important question; Why would your parents allow you to marry a Fatui Harbinger out of all things? It is known that while the Harbingers hold large power, they are greatly a displeasure to work with and their reputation is extremely questionable… Was it the money he had, then? Argh, that does not explain him choosing you, still.

   Presently, the strings of the koto beneath your fingertips are begging to be played, although you sense an odd tension exuding from your husband today. Tension has been your close friend for these many months, you can almost no longer consider yourself lonely although you often traverse through different regions. But today, there is something odd with him. The tension he exudes seems to be less from stress or anger, but something else you can’t quite pinpoint. You think of playing the instrument, though you stop and wonder if playing the instrument would finally let some of his ill-intent be pointed towards you instead. Though the man is often taciturn, you have always enjoyed the daily bouts of dry wits and sarcasm being thrown at each other, though it is often short as he is quite busy. 

   You think of mentioning your day; the book you just read, some interesting kids that you met while shopping today, the letter you had just received from your friend in Inazuma...

   “Quiet today are you, my Lord?”

Ah, you speak before you have fully assessed the sentence. This running mouth will be the death of you one day.

   Your voice is as soft as the rain pouring outside. Sweet and mild, yet confident and outspoken, a cultivation of what your mother had taught you what elegance and care would sound like on a young lady. And yet there is an underlying playfulness in your half-baked intentions, one that is foreign enough in contrast to the primness of your image, that it is almost always slipping under everyone’s radar- except for Scaramouche's.  Though for a moment, you think you might’ve spoken too softly, for your husband is a beat and two late at replying to you, there is no smart reply made towards you yet. 

   Scaramouche doesn’t reply for a moment. Through your peripheral, his lips twitch, a sign of his wanting to speak, yet he closes it again. When he finally, finally speaks, it is expectedly in a sour mood. You don’t know why he spent all that time hesitating when he would still be uttering words in the same tone of apathy mixed with  displeasure at all times. 

   “Who else is speaking in this room?”

   A witty response quickly forms on your tongue, such has been your accelerated talent since your marrying him, “Both of us, as of now, I’m afraid.” 

   He huffs, a sign that he might bow down to your whims, for now. 

   “Problems with the idiots. You wouldn't understand.” By idiots, he may refer to the politicians, diplomats, businesspeople, the maids, the housekeepers, the… Ah, that’s not really narrowing down your options, is it? Still, you can’t help but feel it has nothing to do with the aforementioned. This is entirely different, and you’re not sure how to ease off his anger this time. 

   You have read stories where wives will kiss their lovers in an attempt to soothe them, hold their hands, caress their cheeks… Holding Scaramouche would result in a third degree burn. 

   “Oh? I think these few months  have given me quite the great insight of you though, test me if you want.” You fully turn yourself to Scaramouche, who is sitting idly beneath his kotatsu with a terrible scorn on his face. You often want to tell him that he scowls too much, but you think that might really end the marriage for once and all. And you don't know how to face your parents back in Inazuma when you come back with a bare fourth finger. That doesn’t stop you from tethering on the lines, though. 

   “Pray-tell me, my Lord, what has been on your mind to produce such an expression? My mother did not fight for my education for nothing.” 

   Something like a sigh escapes his lips. 

   He stares at you for a moment, at first you think you have truly angered him. He keeps staring at you, you wonder what you could do to amend your sins of the night. Perhaps a massage(the third degree burn joke replays in your mind)? Would playing the koto that has been untouched for a week or two help, since maybe he might appreciate a song from the homeland after months of moving through regions? Or would he rather you stay quiet? He keeps staring, and so you prepare a superficial apology and ready yourself to deliver it in the most faux heartfelt way you can to bypass him…

   “Let’s talk about something else.” He finally says.

   Hmph, curt, taciturn, callous, everything disagreeable he really reaps. You only shrug in response, finding more amusement rather than offense, setting your attention back on the koto, you think of playing badly tonight as your little, petty  revenge. Or must you go to sleep early without waiting for him? Or even better, must you not sleep at all, making various noises throughout the night as you pace the room back and forth in order to shake away the sleep from him. He’s such a light sleeper, that even moving a breadth of your hair could stir him awake.  

   Your plans come to a halt when an odd, choking-like sound escapes from Scaramouche's throat, tearing your attention away from the instrument. 

   “Let’s talk about something else.” Scaramouche reiterates, slowly that as if these words would be easier to comprehend if he were to prolong each word on his tongue. The lack of ease in the reiteration is not a Scaramouche-thing to do. The callous tone from before had been scrubbed away, though imperfectly done so. It’s almost as if his whole body has been sent off-kilter, undeciding whether to let oxygen flow through his mind or his lungs. Then after a dreadful pause, he adds, “My… my dear.”

What's that?

   “Pardon?” You’re unsure if you had heard those words uttered from the lips of the 6th Harbinger. The edgeful tone of his voice has yet to fully make its leave, if you were not fluent in the language you would have thought he was cursing at you. Scaramouche's countenance holds much more bewilderment than yours, as if he himself is not sure of what he just said. Granted, this is the first time he has ever called you anything other than your name. Judgment slips pass you once more, a small smile which is meant to contain the hearty laugh your throat is begging to release paint over your features, “I prefer not to be referred that way, actually.”

   Scaramouche's face flickers between bewilderment, offense, embarrassment. If you were to tell anyone that he had the ability to produce those looks too just like anyone else, you would be stoned for being a liar.

He grits his teeth. “You- You have no place to complain, let alone choose….!” 

   If your mother had ears within this estate, you would be berated for hours before being reduced to nothing, not even ashes will remain! Thankfully, you are miles away, parted by lands and oceans. With this path you’ve chosen, though, it seems that you will be prematurely obliterated by Scaramouche instead. Ah, better him than your mother, as you would have dignity left for being the only person to be able to reduce him into a mess even only for a second.

   “Oh, you are right. Apologies, my Lord.” You curtly nod towards his direction, “Or must I return the endearment as well?” 

   Your mother, would shriek at your callousness. Your mother had given you extra classes for manners, elegance, and whatnot ages ago, you can't even pinpoint when. She was worried that your running mouth would be the death of the family’s reputation. However, this running, unbred mouth has been the source of life in this awfully tense household. And despite the reactions, you can sometimes tell your Lord would prefer this mouth more than anything. 

   “You love playing around with your fate, don’t you?” He says fretfully. You try hard to fight a smile. 

   You carry on, despite the frown on his unfairly beautiful features growing by the second, “Do you wish to know what I like to be called, then?"

   Scaramouche does not honor you with a  reply, his eyes fixated anywhere but your own. Perhaps it’s shame on his part or the wide, teasing smile on your lips that teethers between the lines of childish and mean, and it’s certainly not an expression you’d be advised to wear in public. Ah, how long has it been since your muscles could spread into such an expression? If this is the case, you wouldn’t mind seeing him around the estate that much anymore.

   “Well?”  You put your chin on your hand, body leaning forward as to not let any of your attention be dispersed.

   “You want to tell me, I have no objection to hearing it.” He finally replies. You are fluent enough in whatever dictionary he uses to speak to know that this means ‘I want to hear it, really’. Although your Lord seldom makes such confessions, in result you must go through other means, such as putting pressure on his delicate nerves. It is a privilege only reserved for you that you won't be struck down by bolts of lighting, so you must use it to your greatest advantage.

   “So you are giving me a choice!" How such a chirpy demeanor is not immediately shut down by him, you wonder, though you're grateful. You must pay the Narukami Shrine a visit once you are back in Inazuma, to give thanks to the Raiden Shogun. Perhaps firstly, you must thank the Shogun for the natural charm you got. It must be from your father, who often uses his charm for business related things. Though now you can confidently say that whatever he has done in the industry is overshadowed by your ability to do whatever in front of Scaramouche.

    “Has being away from your homeland for too long made you so lonely that you must sound out the unnecessary? You are hurting my head, woman."

    So, it is a yes. 

    This time, you are the one not honoring a reply. Instead, you focus on your musings. You think of the many, many books you’ve read before, mentally searching for the ways lovers have called each other in their stories. How odd that you’ve always daydreamed about being called many things, but the moment you are asked for it, all terms disappear from your mind as if you hadn’t touched a book in your life. Poor Scaramouche, he might need to wait for an hour or more for you to recount those days where you were staring out the window as you imagined a less scornful, less taciturn Scaramouche calling you… Ah, that’s it!

   “Well, I dislike ‘my dear’ because honestly, it’s very overused. All of these seven nations you've taken me too, and the same word rings over and over again!.” You start, clasping your hands together. “Not even my father uses the word. And he’s the blandest man I know!” 

   “Your parents don’t love each other. They married off of political interest.”  He points out, resting his cheek on his fist. “I don’t think they call each other at all.”

   “Are we not on the same path, my Lord?”  Curt, straight to the point, a straight offense to what your mother has taught you,

   Scaramouche rolls his eyes, as if that was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard of. “A marriage based on something I can achieve on my own? Don’t play around.” 

   You tilt your head inquiringly, your eyes narrowing, “Then would you prefer it if I were to act as if we were on political terms?"

   He scoffs, “Enough with the foolishness. Carry on.”

   A false offended look was all it takes, then! His true self truly precedes his status, you wish to tease, but ultimately that would close any chance you have to be called whatever you like. In honor to your younger, lovestruck, delusional self, you can’t let that slip away.

   “Now I won’t show any mercy to your nerves. Well then, you must call me ‘my Lord’ back for the next two weeks, and I shall refer to you only by the click of my fingers. And by no circumstance are you allowed to ignore me! Then after those two weeks have ended…” For a moment, confidence slips out of your being. Now you are the one struggling to let out any odd, choking noises as your predecessor. It is unlikely he would notice this, he must be focused on his own designs, for you know he is struggling more than you are beneath that faux bored expression. 

   You finally school your tone and mannerisms enough to speak without stumbling over your own words, at lightspeed, “I’d like for you to call me simply by any nickname of your choice, anything that holds special for everyday use. Surely, that is better than having you choke every time you need to refer to me.” He was about to speak regarding the last sentence, but you speak again before he could protest, another victory goes to you this night!

   “And then even when you’re in a bad mood, you still have to refer to me nicely, or else consider yourself as good as divorced! After you’ve made me cross, you have to refer to me as ‘goddess divine’, ‘mon amour’, ‘my pearl’, and-!”

   “And what shall I call you when I’m… not angry?” Scaramouche suddenly cuts off. His voice is soft, uncertain, an anomaly to his character. This time you think his voice must’ve been overtaken by the pitter-patters of rain to the point that you had misheard him. At first, you want to question him if he is ever in a mood any less than incandescently vexed, but you think you have toyed with the man enough for tonight. And that odd softness of his- what is that? 

 A marriage based on something I can achieve on my own? Don’t play around.

   “Well, what would you like?” You inquire softly, somehow you’re mirroring the tone he has been using before. In this moment, you think if you were to even raise your voice by a decibel, you might ruin everything. 

  You suddenly realize you’re handling something far bigger than you thought you could bear. This is not something you can prattle on like a cat towards a ball of yarn. 

   Whatever image of softness he had procured before disappears, Scaramouche clicks his tongue and he does it arrogantly so, “You decide.”

Ah, that scornful edge is back! Sly, cunning thing. He must’ve thought that was enough to sway you, did he? Archons, but it did though, you regretfully admit, because even until now you can’t make a smart quip back at him. Well, you better choose something awfully, tooth-rotting sweet! Something that is coated with so much sugar that one must drink an entire oasis and more  to get rid of the sweetness imbued on the tongue. And sweetness is something that your Lord swears he loathes with every fiber of his being. 

  What does he want from this marriage?

  The answer lies on the tip of your tongue. You’re just unsure if you could even think about it in confidence, let alone verbally say it… 

 “How about ‘my heart’?” 

   At first, he stays quiet, you think the horror is too much for him to handle. Imagine being caught referring to a woman ‘my heart’ with such a status he owns! This must be annoying him, for you know his pride must lie on his power and status. It is a matter of time before his anger spreads through the air in palpitations. So much so that he is speechless on how to berate you. And even though you’re quite aware that heat is rushing to your own cheeks, you will not be alone at this suffering.

   But he doesn’t look angry, only pensive. As if truly assessing the sentiment and whether it suited or not. The bored expression you always thought to be permanent on his face disappears once more. 

   …It must be a trick to the mind. Is this something your psyche has conjured or is this due to his pleasant physiognomy doing all the work for him? Both are arguably just as bad. 

   “I’d like that.” Scaramouche finally decides, the murmur of his voice breaks you out of your reverie. You immediately perk up, and you swear you see something in his eye, until he quickly turns away towards the windows before you can fully assess the situation. 

   You don’t mention it for his sake. You can’t call what you feel as anything like superficial pity or mere sympathy. Any negative pretense you had of him, for a moment, dissipates like fire in the rain. You don’t know where to start, if you should apologize for pushing it too far, or to change the topic, or perhaps you should continue to stupidly stare at him  in bewilderment until he says something.

   You speak again without thinking. How freeing it is to speak solely on emotions, you realize. 

   “Then, my Lord, must I return the endearment as well?” 

  A soft laugh escapes his lips. It is not the wry one he sends before he adds a terrible quip whenever his underlings say or do something wrong (which is almost all the time, not by everyone’s standards, but his own), or the one he lets out before threatening politicians and businessmen who fail his expectations. It’s so horribly soft and quiet that you feel as though you must hold on to it with utmost care before it slips away and you could never recount it. There is an urge to cherish it. 

    “You’re utterly hopeless.” Scaramouche sounds out, though you  have a feeling it is meant to be for him more than it is for you. 

   The ends of your lips still tug upwards, nonetheless. Because you can quite literally hear him smile. Such detail is only privy to you. 

[unluckilyimnot]

Playing with their hair – aether, kinich, wanderer, rin, sae, sakura

note: i'm just in love with aether and kinich recently and i needed to write something with aether's hair so why not had some of my fav characters along with them. that's probably not really good but i guess it's cute. ooc

m.list | rules

Aether is used to your hands suddenly laying on his hair, running through them when you walk behind him – it’s like an urge, you just have to. You stopped on your track, bowing to kiss his head, inhaling his shampoo a little and hummed at the sweet scent.

“You took my shampoo again,” you mentioned, not in a warning way, more like you appreciate it. He nodded lightly, delighting himself from the feeling of your hands still running through his hair, scratching his scalp a little before kissing it again.

Sensing that you’re about to go away, his hands take yours gently and his head bent down to look up at you. “Already leaving ? We can both take a break…” he said, subtly implying you to not stop yet, making you giggle.

“Sure, we can.”

That’s basically how he ended up sitting on the floor between your thighs, watching a movie while you brush his hair for him, kindly letting your fingers run down his beautifully long hair – trying small, low buns to one high ponytail.

“Having fun ?” You can hear the smile in his voice, amused as always when he let you enjoy his hair more than he does.

“Always.” you said while kissing his nose from above, hiding the tv from his sight for a mere second but he still whines at you for doing so. Such a crybaby.

Kinich sighs as he feels your hands examining his hair again. “Would you stop doing that ?”

He knows you’re not doing this to annoy him, yet it always kind of stresses him to picture you scanning his scalp without any invitation to do so. He also knows that you don’t care about what he says, continuing to play with his hair while you swipe away some dandruff here and there.

“What’s the matter,” you talked back, seemingly frustrated. “You never say anything when it’s to help you fall asleep.” you argued, feeling really satisfied when he doesn’t find anything to say after that. It for sure helps a lot, he can’t argue with that, but he really hoped you could realize that it works all the time and not only when he wants it to – which means he was getting sleepy, slightly closing his eyes while he still had a lot to do.

A satisfied sigh escaped his lips before he could hold it in and you hummed teasingly. Your hands moved from his head to his chest, your arms caging him against you and you laid your head on top of his. “Tired already ?”

“Shut it.” he sounded harsh but he still rested against your chest as well, feeling at peace being so close to you. He wasn’t really tired but if you let him, Kinich would for sure appreciate some quality time with his head in your chest and your hands in his hair. Not that he’ll say it to you.

Wanderer honestly never mind when you ask him if you can play with his hair, he’s usually already busy and not moving so someone touching his hair while studying doesn’t change much for him. He won’t say that it doesn’t make it easy to concentrate since he, sometimes, tends to focus on this more than on the words written in front of him but he still appreciates how peaceful it makes him feel when he’s particularly worried or stressed.

Your hand running through his short strands of hair takes him somewhere else where he doesn’t need to worry as much, he likes it, even if he would never be physically capable of telling you.

“You’re braiding it ?” he asks, half absent in his question – he just wanted to confirm the feeling of your fingers brushing past his cheeks repeatedly. You hummed softly in response, leaving the braid dying the second you let it go since his hair was too short to handle it. It doesn’t discourage you though, and before he can ask what you’ll do next, he can already feel your steady movement back to the same scheme and a soft chuckle left his lips.

“You want me to stop ?” you asked under your breath, probably still concentrated on what you were doing but still caught his sigh.

“No, it’s fine. Go on.” he assured before stepping back again into his study, more than relaxing by this short break.

Rin loves movie dates to his core, but it always gets him when you start touching his hair in the middle of the movie. It's like he's never getting used to it and he's jolting a bit every single time, making you chuckle. But you always kiss his head as an excuse after. 

There's something relaxing when your fingers start to twirl around his short hair, making him wonder who appreciates it the most between you and him. Because he for sure loves it. 

His mind drifts away easily despite himself and how badly he wants to follow the movie. He always finds some way to lean into you, craving for more like a cat and more often than not, he ends up laying on top of you. 

“Don't fall asleep this time Rin,” you joke while scratching his head playfully. He simply nodded, absorbed in the movie more than you gave him credit for. He just didn't want you to stop.

Sae hates it when he feels your hands finding his hair in the middle of the day. He spends quite some time styling his hair in the morning, even if it doesn’t look like it, and you being nearby automatically becomes a danger for that.

Not that he doesn’t like you touching his hair, he’s fond of it, he wishes he could die with you touching his hair, but not during the day. So as soon as he feels it, he immediately gets up and warns you. “Please don’t.”

But he knows it can't be helped and soon your lips meet his, kissing him sweetly – your successful way to distract him – so you can end up with your hands reaching the hair in his neck. Twirling your fingers around it, pulling ever so slightly to annoy him but he still lets you. Not without a sigh against your lips, but he knows damn well he can't hold you back when you're determined to do something. 

He wishes he could keep his hair pretty for the day at least once in a while but he can't blame you ; both of you like it very much. He can forget his image for yet another day if that means he can appreciate the relaxing feint of your fingernails on his scalp. Even if lately it's starting to be everyday, he won't mention it – or not seriously. 

Your smile is more precious than some good hair day. 

Sakura still isn't used to you touching his hair, he hasn't been used to gentle gestures in his life before coming here  –  especially regarding his looks. The second your hands find his hair, he flinches by reflex even if he knows that it’s only you around him. He doesn’t turn you down anymore though since you always let him know how you love his hair, for the color or the fluffiness ; it’s just the best thing in the word and it got to be your boyfriend’s hair. You must be blessed. 

You still try not to frighten him too much, and start by touching his shoulders then going up to his neck and finally the hair in the nape of it. Twirling it lightly with your fingers and you’re sure to catch him snapping his head to you with a blush. 

“What are you doing ?!” he asked as always, flustered but not telling you to stop anyway which made you smile sweetly. 

“I’m playing with your hair ? You want me to stop ?” you tilted your head to the side, trying to act cute and confused so he doesn’t have the heart to tell you no. And with a resigned look but his brows still frowned, he compiled without adding anything.It’s a win, once again. 

You then slowly but surely brush through all his hair, tossing it one side to another, mixing the two colors together then separating it again like a puzzle. That’s something you grew to love, separating his hair for him and that’s also your best excuse to touch it even when there’s people around. Even if he’s not fond of it.

He tends to lay a bit in your hand when you do so, or when you stop your hand in his hair, quietly liking the feeling now that you’ve given him some time. Not that he’ll say it to you, never, but he doesn’t need to for you to know. It’s just like you to notice how he relaxes around you and when you do it. There’s a small smile on your lips when he tries to catch your eyes but looks away instantly, blushing again, and it makes you wonder when he’ll stop blushing around you. 

“You’re cute, Haruka,” you said, brushing away his bang to kiss his forehead. And without a second of hesitation – when in fact yes, but you tried to ignore it –  he was arguing with you about how he is NOT cute, simply proving your point again and again.

Let me know if you like it !