#scaramouche x name

[fairykazu]

𓆝.°𓈒 ⋆ synopsis: falling in love in the summer wasn't on your to-do list but was it really worth it?

pairing: scaramouche x f! reader warnings: strong language, hurt/no comfort, fluff, established situationship / blurred lines between romantic and platonic, teen au, modern au, commitment issues, timeskip chapters, summer to autumn. ⋆ notes: please comment if you want to be added to the taglist ⋆ profiles: dawn + twilight + aesthetics ⋆ filler: written in the sand 𓆝.°𓈒 ⋆ status ongoing | started: 1/26/24 | ended: !

record player ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა coming up . . . 1 𓇼 twilight zone 2 - seafoam at dawn 3 𓇼 summer flows 3.5 - babysitting 4 𓇼 ride 5 - seasons 6 𓇼 ocean floor 7 - surf 8 𓇼 jonny 9 - reprise 10 𓇼 too late

taglist [ open / bold means i cannot tag you]: @practicoi @saccharine-sucks @veekoko @aruastu @jllyfsh-lvr @scaranthropy @featuredtofu

[monicahar]

“thanks for the flowers!”

“what flowers?”

in which they find out you receive a gift from someone that isn't them.

characters; wanderer, alhaitham, kaveh

; i keep seeing that damn tiktok 😐 gender neutral reader, fluff, crack,

WANDERER eyes you skeptically, suspicion being evident on his pale features as he scans your expression up and down. has he already caught on to your little prank?

“first of all, who in their right mind would court you? and with some sappy flowers as well?”

you return his unamused gaze, finding him very unfunny.

“you do know that you're dating me, right?”

“unfortunately.” he clicks his tongue, further leaning towards your face, brows still furrowed as if he's trying to decipher something, gazing at you with an unreadable expression that has your resolve crumbling. “is this another one of your antics to get a rise out of me? if so, it's not working.”

his lips break out into a grin upon watching your eyes widen. but your shock doesn't last long—him immediately seeing through your silly scheme isn't an unexpected outcome, funnily enough.

“you're too serious sometimes.” you pout at him whilst he scoffs, “just humor me. what would you actually do if i managed to receive flowers from another?”

“it's simple—you can't.” comes his swift and confident reply, offending you as you stare at him incredulously, weighing the implication of his words.

“you speak of me like i'm the most unattractive person in teyvat—what do you mean i can't?”

“you're an idiot. would i have really chosen you if you were unattractive in any way?” he crosses his arms before facing you completely, indigo hues staring directly into yours.

“i already eliminated all those who dare steal you from me.”

...?

you freeze on the spot, processing what you've just heard.

“...excuse me?”

“—just kidding. i'm no longer that type of person, hah.” he huffs out a derisive laugh, yet his humorous farce does not meet his eyes.

not finding any comfort in his supposed testament of it only being a joke, you opt to stare at him confusingly in return. weirdo.

ALHAITHAM, much like the wanderer, catches on to the prank immediately. whether it's intuition, scarily precise deduction or just the way you generally act weird when it comes to lying to his face—he still figured you out in the end like it's nothing.

but unlike the wanderer, he decides to humor you and play along. what a good boyfriend.

“...you mean you didn't give me the flowers?” you flutter your lashes at him, a horrible and terribly inefficient way to convince him that the whole thing with the flowers is actually real. alhaitham suddenly has the rare urge to laugh. since when did you act like this?

alhaitham shifts in his seat. “no. who do you think it's from?”

“hm.” you hum thoughtfully, bringing a finger to your chin as if in deep thought. the scribe briefly wonders how far you're willing to take this joke. but he digresses—the chances of him actually getting mad at you are akin to that of kaveh finally shutting up—

“maybe kaveh? he grew an interest in flowers recently, so i've heard. maybe he sent some as like a sign of friendship or something along those lines...there's no way it means something else, riiiiiight?”

alhaitham pauses his train of thought.

speak of the devil.

momentarily doubting his conclusion that you're just pulling a prank, he quietly glowers at you as if silently telling you to take back your words.

“what about him?”

you immediately cower upon the drop in his tone—raising your arms in defense when alhaitham moves to stalk closer to you. “i was joking! i didn't get any flowers from anyone and last time i conversed with kaveh was when i—”

“let's go.” he grabs the back of your collar and drags you along, a newfound heavy weight in his footsteps as an indescribable and uncomfortable feeling creeps up on his neck.

“i really was just joking, 'haitham! i was bored and i wanted to annoy you for a bit! i swear!”

even if it wasn't true, the thought of kaveh gifting you flowers without his knowledge—

alhaitham's expression subconsciously turns sour. quite unlucky that you couldn't witness the extremely scarce sight of jealousy on your boyfriend as you are comically dragged against your will behind him.

“the nearest flower shop is just around the corner. tell me if anything piques your interest.” he says in way that has no room for argument. he is getting you flowers now.

KAVEH falls for it, obviously. not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed outside his designated profession, you see.

“i don't remember buying any flowers...” he mutters to himself, the gears in his head turning. it's almost laughable when he finally pieces your words together, a look of disbelief painfully present on his faxe but by some miracle, you resisted the urge to burst out in giggles right then and there. “wait...i didn't send any!”

“is that so...then who would send me flowers other than you?” you edge him on, instigating at its finest, much poking a sleeping bear with a stick while you circle it tauntingly.

an actual enraged kaveh is something you've never seen before, just some tantrums and endless ranting about some clients and his roommate. you've always wanted to see it—just not directed at you, hopefully.

“that's...ah, people already know you're dating me though, so it can't be someone hitting on you. maybe it's just from a relative or—”

“really?” you tilt your head, feigning a bit of confusion. “then i suppose i should keep these red roses then. i'll ask tighnari how to keep them alive, i guess.”

“w-wait, wait—could you repeat that?”

“hm?” you face him, “i'll ask tighnari?”

“no, the one before that.”

“...i'll keep the red roses?” you had to hold yourself back from grinning ear to ear when his eyes widen.

it's not unexpected that someone versed in the beauty of art would recognize one of the most common flower's meaning. quite the handy trivia.

he immediately stands up, grabbing your hand in tow as you yelp in surprise at his abruptness.

“kaveh?!”

“those flowers mean love! like, actual romantic love! i'll burn it for you right now! where'd you put it!?” the intensity of his ruby gaze sends shudders down your spine.

“it's not like i reciprocate it—”

“still, no one other than me should be sending those...!” kaveh tightens his grip on your hands, “i don't like the idea of someone hitting on you. i can't let anyone attempt to take you away from me...”

you blink. “kaveh...”

“—that's why show it to me now! or i'll bite you!”

“okay, okay! jeez...”

now...how are you going to break the news to him that it was actually yellow roses, and most definitely not from an admirer?

the biggest hater of my work is myself. wtf am i writing bruh ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

[saylor-twift]

this is a bit random but one thing I love about the genshin community is how when wanderer came out, everybody collectively banded together to come up with beautiful names to give him. And they didn’t just choose the first thing they saw on google either, no, these people put thought and research into these names. It’s so ironic that this guy who’s so convinced that people only ‘like’ him for his utility, or see him as some sort of weapon for their own benefit, actually has thousands of people who love and adore him universes away.

some honorable mentions of names I’ve seen:

-Icarus (son of Daedalus in greek mythology who created the labyrinth to hold the minotaur. I don’t actually remember why they gave him this name, or the real meaning behind it, but I still like it)

-Kunimitsu (light of the world, contrast to his previous name kunikuzushi, roughly meaning conquerer or destroyer of nations)

-Shinji (Evangelion reference, I believe? If you haven’t seen the show, I won’t spoil, but there are so many connections and similarities between Shinji and Wanderer. Abandonded by creator/parent who they seek(ed) validation from but will likely never get it, taken in by someone named Katsuragi, etc.)

-Zuko (my own personal addition) another character (Avatar: The last airbender if you don’t know) that shares so many similarities with him. Very conflicted individuals who were shown from the beginning that things were going to be extra unfair and hard for them. Both have parental/creator figures that for a while they sought to please until they discovered their own paths and what they actually wanted, as well as siblings they despise and envy because they hold the position they so desperately wanted. (that is, if you consider the shogun puppet a sort of sister to wanderer/scaramouche)

-Fujin (Japanese mythological god of wind who appears next to Raijin, the god of thunder)

that’s all i got off of the top of my head, but i’d love to hear what names everyone else gave to/came up with for wanderer if you have any!

[kazumist]

there are five times when scaramouche tried to say “i love you”, but failed.

the first time he tried to do so, you were dozing off on his shoulder during a train ride home. it was just a silent ride for the two of you, but the silence was comfortable as you slept peacefully.

it was strange. it was strange how scaramouche could just feel himself saying it right now. how he could feel that those three words could just roll out of his tongue so smoothly.

and so it did. he lets out a small "i love you".

but of course, since you were asleep, you didn’t really hear him properly. but you did wake up to the sound of his voice. “hmm?” you hummed, rubbing your eyes. scaramouche smiles and says, "nothing. i said we’re almost near our stop.”

in the right time, maybe.

the second time was when you two were at his place for a movie night. the television was pretty loud, but who said scaramouche was actually watching the movie that was playing? his eyes drifted toward you most of the time. he wasn’t watching the movie—he was watching you enjoy the movie.

as if it were the simplest thing to do, he found himself saying it again. “i love you” he says.

that was the second time, and he’s well aware that it was unheard. but he doesn’t mind, since deep inside, that’s enough for him.

in the right time, maybe.

the third time scaramouche tried to tell you that he loved you, his heart almost felt like it was about to jump out of his chest.

chilly air from the night flew past the both of you as you randomly walked together, despite it being late. you had your music playing and were casually singing along while he followed right after.

scaramouche had no idea why his hands felt all clammy or why he could feel himself blushing. you were just singing; it was no big deal—so why? why is he reacting like this?

the sudden burst of feelings is there. so while you were busy singing along, he couldn’t help but utter, “i love you”.

third and still unheard, but scaramouche could never feel any better than being with you right now.

in the right time, maybe.

scaramouche really wonders why feelings are so difficult to comprehend sometimes. he can understand others’ feelings, yes, but what about his? why can’t he understand his own feelings? it was rare for him to open up, and when he did, it was quite relieving.

but how can he exactly open up when his issues are related to the person he only opens up to?

scaramouche looks at your sleeping figure again; the book you were studying is long forgotten. 

he loves it. he loves how you look so beautiful when you sleep, yet you’re so unaware of it. he loves how you can just tell him literally anything because you feel comfortable in his presence.

scaramouche cannot understand the concept of feelings, especially when it comes to love, but he knows.

“i love you,” he says, pushing your hair aside to see you more properly.

fourth. still unheard, but his heart could not be any fuller.

in the right time, maybe.

it is still a wonder that scaramouche did not meet you any sooner. he can’t imagine his life without you in it. ever since you two met, you have played a crucial role in his life as a whole. he has so many things to say, yet he can’t find the right words to express himself.

scaramouche knows he loves you; that fact dawned on him back then. it was no surprise, really. some could tell what his heart contained by how he looked at you. 

he has no idea what made you so lovable to him. he just can’t help it—in his eyes, there’s no one else he could think of falling for except for you. just as you were being too busy rambling to scaramouche, once again he just couldn’t help but utter an “i love you”.

fifth. in the right time, maybe he can finally say those three words to you out loud.

[jayzioxx]

Cuz i cant sleep... some slight angst following up this and this fic isn't the follow up from the poll im just sleep deprived and sad

Also WARNINGGG ooc soft emotionally ✨️mature✨️ wanderer~

Wanderer who tries to atone for his past sins realized how much he's broken [name] throughout the years. [Name] who was undeniably loyal and trustworthy, [name] who nearly gave his life away to help him reach godhood.

"You..." Wanderer muttered as he looked at [name] who was fast asleep on the sofa in his living room. He wondered if he should bring a blanket to cover that scrawny, malnourished body resting so peacefully, but he couldn't take his eyes off the bruises, cuts, and old battle scars littering the skin of those once strong limbs.

"Idiot. Nothing would have changed even if you died for me." He thought. And he was so glad that didn't happen. He couldn't have lived with himself if he caused pain for another he loved.

Wanderer's cold fingers traced around a healing wounds on [name]'s face, which was one of the many he'd gained during his final battle fought as the right-hand man of a fatui harbinger, likely from when he foolishly intercepted the rough attacks from the traveler just to buy some more time for Scaramouche.

Wanderer absentmindedly continued to carass his scarred skin, not noticing how [name] was waking from his afternoon nap.

"Sorry." He croaked, bringing a thin hand up to rub his tired eyes. "It was warm. I didn't mean to fall asleep here."

Wanderer felt a pang through his heart (despite not having one). He'd gained a lot of emotions and grew to feel things during the months he spent under Nahida and at the akademia, but [name] had only spent 3 days in this new setting after roaming around homeless for so long.

Wanderer didn't realize how lucky he was in that aspect, for being given a chance to overcome his past when his counterpart was suffering the entire time.

"Lord Scaramou- Forgi- Sorry, Wanderer." [Name] spoke, stuttering to correct his words as he was still struggling to adapt to his new life. "You were zoning out."

He was. He only noticed how much he had been thinking over things when [name] pointed it out.

[Name] was still laying on his side on the sofa with Wanderer's hand on his cheek, staring at Wanderer's face with his sleepy eyes.

The puppet moved his hand from [name]'s face to his back to gently help him sit up. Truth be told, Wanderer was scared. The man in front of him was far too thin and far too weak. Almost to the point he would fracture at a light breeze.

Without a word, Wanderer got up and went to make some tea, and the other sat perfectly still, eyes unmoving, not even turning his head. He almost seemed like a porcelain doll.

When Wanderer got back, [name] sat in the same position he had been, faced the same direction, with only his eyes following the one who had just come back from the kitched and placed a warm cup of tea in his hands.

"He's like a doll." Thought Wanderer, which only made him feel more upset. He knew he shouldn't be frustrated, that he was the one responsible, but he just wished that [name] would at least move his head a bit more, or maybe shift in his seat. Act a bit more alive.

Or, at the very least, not act like he was living dead.

"Hey." Wanderer said, carefully choosing his words and speaking as gently as he could. [Name] had a slightly uncomfortable look on his face, seemingly confused with how to respond.

"You can respond however you'd like to. Or dont if you don't feel like it." Wanderer spoke softly, noting [name]'s discomfort. [Name] just smiled, a bit relieved. He found it a bit strange to see Scaramouche so... kind.

"I'm not Scaramouche." Wanderer said. He looked apologetic.

"I won't be either." He felt like his words didn't get through to [name], but the sunken look on [name]'s face told him how much impact his words had.

"I'm sorry." He finally apologized. He didn't exactly understand why he was apologizing, all he knew was that there was a lot to say sorry for.

"If you're not him, then why are you apologizing."

[Name]'s words stung like salt on a fresh wound.

"Because I stopped being him without considering you."

Wanderer couldn't stop the bitter tears falling from the other's eyes. He seemed to have a knack for making him cry. Scaramouche's strongest general and the broken human marionette wanderer picked up.

"I'm sorry for how I used you."

...

"I'm sorry for how it broke you."

...

"I'm-" Wanderer choked."...I'm sorry for not telling you I loved you when it mattered the most."

He wasn't crying. He had much better control over his feelings than [name]. But being unable to stop [name]'s tears made him feel as helpless as he felt when he was first abandoned.

The tea had become cold and untouched, and Wanderer gently took the teacup from the other one's hands and placed it aside, engulfing him in as warm a hug he could provide. [Name] too allowed his skinny frame to be held as he quietly sniffled.

For the first time in a long, long time, both Wanderer and [name] felt as normal and human as the rest.

Meanwhile nahida accidentally spying on then through whatever weird magic she's got crying her eyes out with kaveh who's crying cuz he saw nahida crying so now the two of them dont know why the other is crying and they're crying togerther because of that.

Al haitham in the back wondering what the 🦆is going on...

[m1d-45]

I just used all my saved primogems on wanderer's banner and he still didnt come home 😭

Can I request a small sagau fic about him for comfort

rest

word count: ~1k

-> warnings: dialogue heavy reader, no spoilers though

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr

< masterlist >

your door was creaky. another thing to fix.

“why are you awake?”

but at least your wanderer was back.

you sit up from where you’re laying on the couch, taking a breath to clear your expression before turning to watch him come in. he shuts the door quietly despite the permanently sour look on his face, taking off his hat.

“welcome back. how was school?”

he made a face and you laughed, waving him over to join you. though he did walk closer, he merely crossed his arms and stood at the end of the couch. still, his voice wasn’t nearly as harsh as it could have been, “why do you insist on saying it like that?”

“the akademiya is a school, right?”

he stares, and you smile. it’s clear he doesn’t have an argument.

“i’m a professor.”

“you’re still going to school.”

“why are you upset?”

your smile slips. were you that transparent? “nothing for you to worry about. uh, you said you would be collecting draft essays today, right? how’d that go?”

his face shifts, softening just slightly around the edges. his hands fall, one propping on his side instead. “don’t change the subject.”

you could make a joke, but you’re too tired to try. the brief banter had given you some energy, but now…

you sigh, looking down to the discarded papers on the coffee table. letters, mostly, but a few diagrams you were supposed to look over. plans for a festival, a new shrine (how many did teyvat need?), the nth invitation to a lunch or event or whatever was going on that hour. you were honestly getting a headache before he showed up, and that wasn’t even addressing the other issues not on paper. “even gods can’t escape paperwork.”

he pulls all the papers—there’s a few not even taken from their envelopes yet, how did that happen—into a pile near the edge of the table, then sits beside you. he picks up a paper and skims it, then puts it to the side. “why are you handling this? shouldn’t someone else?”

you lean on his shoulder, watching as he begins to sort all the papers into two piles. you can’t pick out whatever pattern he’s using: some he lingers on for a few seconds, some he tosses in an instant. “they were addressed to me.”

“so? you don’t have to personally respond to every piece of fanmail.” he tosses one envelope into the second, larger pile with more force than the others. “it’s ridiculous. you should know better than to try and do all of this yourself.”

he’s probably right. as prickly as he can be, nine out of ten he at least had a good idea on how to approach an issue. he’d even clocked that you were stressed despite the fact that there was no was he could have seen your expression from the door.. though that may have something to do with your inability to hide your exhaustion when you turned.

“there.” he sets a final paper in the first, much smaller pile, then taps it into a neater stack. “this are the things that actually require your attention. don’t waste your time with things that don’t matter.”

“what about the other pile?”

“they don’t matter.”

“that’s rude.”

“it’s true. i can tell you’re tired already-“ damn, you didn’t want to worry him “-and i can guarantee most problems people have faced you with are better handled by others.”

“dear…”

“i’m serious.” he picks up the larger second pile, arranging them into a neater stack. “what do you have to do? name them.”

“theres a merchant in liyue-“

“that can be handled by the ministry of civil affairs.” he sets the pile down, leaning back. “what else?”

“an outbreak in mondstat-“

“knights of favonius’ problem.”

“a few rogues in sumeru have been defacing my statues.”

he paused, and you adjusted your position, leaning your back against him instead. he lifted his arm and put it across your chest, and when he spoke it was much softer. “still better handled by the mahamatra. if you aren’t directly involved, there’s no need to worry about them.”

“but they’re asking for help…”

“they’re asking the wrong person. trust me, you’re above them and their petty squabbles. in fact.. you should take a nap.”

“what?”

he moved toward the end of the couch, laying your head in his lap. “take a nap. or just lie down, i don’t care. relax for a bit. these people have given you too much stress already, it’s better if you didn’t waste any more energy on them.”

he was looking away, still obviously trying to keep up the image of indifference, but you could still spot the cracks. his hand still stayed on your shoulder, tracing random shapes across your shirt, and he didn’t say anything snarky when you put your own hand over his.

he cared for you, just as you cared for him. he cared enough that he’d remind you not to worry about unnecessary things, that he’d physically put himself between you and whatever problem the world demanded you face, even though on the surface it wouldn’t seem like he viewed you with anything less than distaste.

well, to others it was a conundrum. to you it was pretty clear, as who else would he sit with like this? he regularly ranted on about those who attended his lectures, still dismissed the words of mahamatra, still ignored most other authorities save for possibly nahida. but for you, he’d sort through your paperwork and have you sleep where he could ensure you did… he was sweet like that.

you smiled. “you’re adorable.”

“i am not.”

[cielur5ww]

Idk, a modern Au Scaramouche being soft. It can be considered a gn reader, because it does not specify any pronouns... although I did it thinking of a reader amab.

Headcanons of Scaramouche and you, I think no pronoun is specified. Mention of hickeys, nothing explicit, Scaramouche is a proud.. (he is a bit silly)

Scaramouche bf! He doesn't understand in the slightest why you always put too much effort into decorating when you do your schoolwork, (half of him understands) what you do for aesthetics but to him, it seems unnecessary. (It's minimalist)

Scaramouche bf! Every time he gets upset (he's not serious) all he wants from you is for you to shower him with affection. He is hungry for affection, touch or words (better both to relieve that hunger)

Scaramouche bf! who always complains and snorts, annoyed because both of them live far away from each other. Although you see each other in classes and everything, he also wants to spend time with you alone, simply in your room, seeing what nonsense you will come up with today or simply a date at a cafe or walking through squares, enjoying the peace.

Scaramouche bf! who is actually called Kunikuzushi, but now to leave that painful past behind he calls himself Scaramouche, although he doesn't want anything to remember about his previous name... it really doesn't bother him in the least if you call him Kuni or kuzushi, because he is quite used to it. That you call him that, it's as if that nickname was simply made for him, so that you could say it through your lips with that stupidly sweet smile for him (ironic, right?)

Scaramouche bf! He definitely takes care of his skin, although he has almost absolutely no imperfections, he follows a skyn care routine, and he would like to guide you in this type of world of face and skin care if you didn't do it before!, but if you already did So you would like both of you to be together, each doing your own skin care routine.

Scaramouche bf! Good memory and he takes pride in it, but when something happens he acts like an idiot who doesn't know anything or doesn't remember it (he likes to bother you)

Scaramouche bf! Totally embarrassed if you go to the gym and one day you suggest that he sit on top of a bar to do chest exercises, and carrying his weight you do quite a few repetitions... (he gets embarrassed although he tries to maintain his defiant and mocking attitude.)

Scaramouche bf! He is surprised and freezes in a few seconds if you were to carry him so easily, he knows that he weighs little but the fact that you carried him without effort... surprises him and, clearly, he doesn't blush a little, he simply beams, telling you to put it down. And if you don't do it, and you carry him calmly like a princess... he will be with his arms crossed... maintaining an expression of annoyance but you can't take it seriously when that light blush becomes more and more noticeable on his cheeks, it's cute even though he's annoying.

Scaramouche bf! that his physical strength is below the average man (just a little) and sometimes he HATES asking you for help carrying things, because he is supposed to be independent and not weak. (In the end you approach him on your own, and you will have to insist on helping him until he finally says yes... but reluctantly, as if he could really carry that heavy box that, according to him, weighs 100kg ... or if you stop insisting, he will get upset anyway because you didn't want to help him.)

Scaramouche bf! who uses concealer to hide the hickeys that were stupidly dark, he doesn't even know how the hell he leaves you... that you leave him in this ridiculous state (He likes it anyway)

Just bland headcanons, sorry this isn't reviewed, just vague ideas. Any mistake... well it will be there

[mondaymelon]

⸝⸝⸝ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕫𝕖. ༄ 6reeze x gn!reader - click here for blog navigation + other masterlists

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𝔸ℂ𝕋 𝕀 - "𝐚𝐡! 𝐝𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲?"

01. the aftermath of a chaotic debut

02. responsible, for once?

03. wait, what??

04. well, this is awkward...

05. unknown number

06. to my past lover

07. new songs (and suspicion)

08. meetup plans?? yes, please!

09. oh dear, is it panic time??

10. praying for you

11. new phone, who this?

12. tba...

𝔸ℂ𝕋 𝕀𝕀 - "𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲, 𝐝𝐨 𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮?"

𝔸ℂ𝕋 𝕀𝕀𝕀 - "𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫?"

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[sunlight-forsaken]

I just.. I love them. Their dynamic could probably kill someone but I love them

[puppetgearing]

hi im showing yall my cringe genshin self insert pls be nice as i indulge in my fantasy

it took me 15 mins to think of puppetgear and im so weirdly proud abt it

u can read abt niko here:

[heiayen]

gently wipe the sorrow off my life, i dream scaramouche x gn!reader

summary: "you didn’t know what happened, why it happened and that was breaking your heart, cutting it open, leaving burning pain in your chest, where once flowers of love bloomed." you're surprised and completely heartbroken when your lover, kunikuzushi, suddenly disappears without a trace. you think it's the end of the world, with your heart open and bleeding but soon you discover, that there is still happiness waiting for you.

tags: based on the prompt "there’ll be happiness after you but there was happiness because of you", scara's real name used, modern au (from highschool to college), scara basically pulls an irminsul but why? blame dottore angst/bittersweet, [name] is very much going through it </3 title name taken from the honkai star rail song "if i can stop one heart from breaking". not proofread

notes: hi. i come back with angst! written for @thexianzhoujade's personal memoires event and truthfully i kinda hate this fic HAJAHS but this is fine i am not fine blah blah blah yippee. i forgot how to write scara so sorry if this fic is kinda ooc but yeahhh have fun enjoy !! <3 as if anyone is going to enjoy angst LMAO

“Come on, it’s just one photo and besides, we barely have pictures of us…”

“...just one, fine. Get in here.”

A part of you wished you had taken more pictures with him. Pictures from dates in the blooming parks, from hangouts with your friends after school, from spending time together at his place, something to fill up the empty photo album you found hidden in your room. You filled only a few pages, with a few pictures of you and Kunikuzushi, of you taken by your friends, of your family during holidays, pictures of you and your friends, his friends, a picture of him you took when he didn’t see– the one you considered putting in your wallet, laughing how you’d look like a spouse missing their husband. 

(You counted exactly six photos of him in your album, compared to the twenty or so with others. Barely a quarter, not even a half, barely a page and a half of the album.)

You moved your fingers over one of them, the one you took after graduation– laughing with your friends, posing at the camera, tightly holding his hand, and tugging him closer, and wondered.

Did it have to end like this? If you only knew what was happening, would you somehow fix it in time?

Things were… nice, before. Being with him was nice, even if his personality sometimes made you tug at your hair in annoyance. But you found a common language and spoke in it till the very end, sharing your joy and sadness, annoyance and anger, silent tears and gentle fluttering in your chests. 

When you first met Kunikuzushi in school, you had your opinions about him– he wasn’t the nicest, wasn’t talking with many other students, and seemingly valued his time alone more than with someone. You understood it, some people simply weren’t the social butterflies but it became a problem when, by some unlucky charm (at least, you thought it was unlucky then), you ended up together to work on a project. You didn’t know him and your teacher decided to pair you by herself, saying how she wanted her students to interact more with each other. It seemed like a terrible idea at first.

(You rolled your eyes, giving a look to your friend. You really didn’t entertain this idea– to do a big project with someone other than your friend? You dealt with enough shitty groupmates leaving you on read or delivered in your life, and that was for small projects! What if you got someone as shitty as them? You shuddered at the thought alone.)

But, oh, how wrong you were. You didn’t expect to befriend that guy, and yet a few months in, Kunikuzushi became your best friend, and a year later– your lover. 

You remembered that love confession like yesterday; a little awkward, he jumbled over his words and you said something stupid in return, laughing awkwardly at yourself and almost getting up from that bench and marching back home. It was late, the bench in the park illuminated by the streetlight. A part of you was sure he planned for the confession to look different, yet whatever his ideal plan was, you wouldn’t exchange what you got for it. 

He walked you back home, you remembered, holding your hand.

To say you were happy was an understatement. Something bloomed in your chest with every day spent together with him, the little affections between you warming your heart and cheeks, and every morning seemed… a little brighter. It wasn’t wake up, get dressed, go to school, spend majority of your day studying, sleep, anymore.

Wake up, reply to Kunikuzushi’s late night message he sent. Get dressed and don’t forget about that chain necklace with a pendant he gave you for your birthday (you were matching, of course you were matching). Go to school and spend the day with your friends, with Kunikuzushi, with his friends (although you weren’t sure if that ginger guy was really his friend, but…). Spend the rest of your day studying, texting, and sometimes hanging out if you had free time (which turned into weekly hangouts with all your friends and… sometimes, more than once a week, just you and Kunikuzushi). Text him goodnight and smile at his, although short, reply back. Sleep. 

You hoped it would stay like this… for longer. For as long as possible, just living in this bliss, being happy and not alone, with people you loved and who loved you back, some even more than others.

(Selfishly, you wanted that to last forever. Forever the high school student with no worries other than passing exams and doing your homework on time. Forever with your friends, spending weekends with them, having fun and not caring about anything else. Was it selfish to want to be happy forever?)

Kunikuzushi was here with you for all your problems, even if, truthfully, he wasn’t the best at solving them, and neither he was good at words. But he was still here, offering you support and letting you talk about what annoyed you, what made you sad and sometimes, he still would try to comfort you, loudly agreeing with your complaints, (lovingly) threatening to beat someone up if they were an asshole to you, telling you to not worry. It wasn’t the end yet. 

His presence alone helped you manage through harder days– it was better to be with someone after all, rather than spend your days wallowing in sadness alone, with only the walls willing to listen. 

(You offered him help, too. Quietly sitting and listening to his rants about his mother, squeezing his hand and tugging him closer to you– or simply being next to him, when touch was something unwanted.)

When graduation came, in bittersweet tears you promised your friends (and Kunikuzushi, of course) to still be in touch with them, and never leave them alone just because you weren’t students from the same class anymore. That didn’t change anything, no.

The summer vacation you spent mostly with your friends, hanging out and enjoying the warm, summer weather. So many trips, so many walks with Kunikuzushi and dates– oh, that picnic you two went on one day… it started raining at one point (the weather reports lied to you, it seemed) and you only had a blanket to cover yourself from the rain. How funny it was, how much you wished you could get the chance to do it again, with him–

You sighed, closing the album. Sometime before the summer’s end, right before the start of college, you noticed… changes in Kunikuzushi’s behavior. He still was your lover, caring about you in his own ways, he still was the man you loved, but something seemed to always bug him. Something seemed to sit on his shoulders, heavy. You always asked him if he was okay because yes, yes, you noticed his worse mood, noticed all the little things he tried to hide and you were worried, really worried, and–

And yet, you never got a proper answer. Always to not worry, that nothing was wrong, and you were tired of that, maybe if you, at least this once, pressed him for answers, during that summer night you called a date–

Maybe you would know why he suddenly disappeared without a trace.

The many messages you sent, the many unanswered calls– you asked your friends around, his friends, and were greeted with radio silence in answer. You didn’t know what happened, why it happened and that was breaking your heart, cutting it open, leaving burning pain in your chest, where once flowers of love bloomed.

(These flowers would never truly burn, you feared. Some would still leave, polluting your heart and making it harder to breathe.)

What was once beautiful turned into a burden, far too heavy to carry alone. There was so much stress on your plate– because what if something happened to him? What if someone did something to him, what if there was something you could do to change it? Why were you so distracted throughout the day? Why was it hard to get up in the morning, why the only thing you wanted to do was to wait at your phone, with hopes of seeing at least a single message from him? Where went your motivation to study, to do well in college as you promised yourself?

Where was he? What happened? Could you change it?

Were you at fault?

(No, of course you weren’t. You did everything in your power, but it just wasn’t enough. None of this was your fault.)

Were you alone in it?

…no, you weren’t. It felt like you were, especially at first; with new people around you, your friends offering you support but ultimately being busy, you felt alone. Terribly so, loneliness gnawing at your soul all the time, leaving the icy cold feeling in its wake. 

But life forced you to get up from that pit, whether you wanted that or not. You couldn’t fail your major, not when you worked so hard to get into it in the first place. And neither you wanted to completely cut off your friends, so you started replying to their texts more. You’ve met new people, too, and made new friendships.

Things were getting back on track after, you thought that they wouldn’t. You pulled yourself up with your own strength, with your friends cheering for you from the distance, their cheers putting a smile on your face. 

(Younger you thought that if you ever were to break up with Kunikuzushi, the world would simply… end. You ignored that thought creeping into your mind, waved it away, pushed it deep at the bottom of your mind. It wouldn’t happen.)

Now, as you looked at the pictures, you still felt a sharp pang in your chest. You missed him, yes, and you still thought about the days you spent together with him, but they no longer brought you back into that darkness you once experienced.

They were a bittersweet memory now. Ones, you would cherish till the end, gently putting them on the shelf with new, happy memories. 

You hummed to yourself in thought, tapping at the cover of the album with your nail. Maybe instead of pondering how you should take more photos of the past, maybe you should take more of the future? Fill the album up with new photos of yourself, your friends, random things that you found pretty and worth remembering. 

Your phone threw you out of the thinking, the loud noise of the ringtone filling up the room. Right, you were supposed to meet up with your friends in an hour and here you were, going through your old stuff and procrastinating the shower. 

You put the album away and picked up your phone. A smile tugged at your lips hearing the overjoyed voice of your friend, telling you how excited they are to meet with you again (your last hangout was two weeks ago!) and that they already left.

You looked back at the album.

With today, you’d start filling it up with new memories of your happiness.

[fairykazu]

𐙚celeste — “love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind.”

pairing : kazuha × gn! reader, scaramouche × gn! reader

summary: a new and upcoming soloist was coming into the world of tevyat. but wait... isn't that one of the triple stars?! y/n was apart of the trio band called "triple stars" with aether and lumine. but due to mysterious reasons, they left the group with no explanation. however, they have come back with a new name: celeste

genre(s): close friends to lovers, rivals to lovers, idol au, slowburn

warnings: kms/kys jokes, angst, cursing, angst, mommy issues, stalking, false rumors, name uses they/she pronouns, name is gender neutral but is feminine aligned, any person used as y/n is not canonically what they look like! soon will be added as series progresses

status: hiatus; irregular updates

playlists: scarlet & scara

vidia’s quip: quick note! y/n is implied to be feminine or at least, transfem! sorry to my transmasc or male audiences! also purple - scaramouche pov, red - kazuha pov, white or default color - name credits: (star divider credit @bunnysrph)

profiles: the silliest stars | childe hatepage + yoimiya

⋆｡°✩ 1ST ALBUM: the stars in the sky represents us part i. track 1. omg celeste comeback?! ⋆ interlude. scarlet and celeste track 2. the twin stars' surprise ⋆ interlude ft scaramouche. getting slandered on main track 3. slandering on main means to apologize after / what is he on?! ⋆ scaramouche's reprise. W rizz, kuni! ⋆ track 4. besties meetup! ⋆ track 5. knock knock! whos there? interlude ft kazuha. the tweets ⋆ track 6. a date or not a date? that is the question ⋆ track 7. to the recording room! ⋆ track 8. leaks & celeste's mystery man??? ⋆ track 9. upcoming rumors

⋆｡°✩ 2ND ALBUM: the aligned fate orchestrated by the constellations part i. track 10. unknown number?? ⋆ track 11. worried ⋆ track 12. deluxe album out! ⋆ track 13. scaramouche x y/n trending??? ⋆ track 14. are you afraid of me? track 15. tba track 16. tba track 17. tba track 18. tba

⋆｡°✩ TWO MINI ALBUMS scarlet's route: scarlet leaves in the celestial night ⋆ includes: 10 tracks, one boyfriend, a thank you card, one freebie and highschool dreams achieved wanderer's route: purple midnights with the moon ⋆ includes: 20 track, a thank you card, one freebie, one boyfriend, hurt/comfort, and well, scaramouche is his own warning

⋆｡ EXTRAS 00. starlight anew - celeste visuals + album 01. melodramatic - scaramouche visuals

fairykazu © 2024 do not repost to other sites without permission, share, translate or rewrite without my permission. all rights are reserved !

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[dinoshimaaa]

some day, someone will like me like i like you. (pt 2)

this damned feeling. a curse laid upon him for all of eternity. unescapable, tormenting, torturing. first it was disappointment he felt in himself for succumbing to it. but that feeling of shame was soon washed away by the bliss that accompanied the fluttering feeling in his chest, its intensity so strong that it overpowered every other emotion in him, to the point that he only ever thinks and feels of you when you are near. what a shame that you do not feel the same. (feat. wanderer, tartaglia, lyney, gn! reader) (pt 1 here)

or: their heart will always be yours, but you…

(p.s. scara for @seveninchesfrominsanity 😎 and gingey for my best boro @souglias 😍 good luck to everyone on their child pulls!!!!!!!!)

(p.p.s. 8 year-old tartaglia refers to reader as a princess once, but it’s gender neutral otherwise + archon quest and lyney story quest spoilers)

-

the wanderer of sumeru is all but lovely. he is “hat guy”, the mysterious vahumana scholar who showed up out of nowhere just days ago, already gathering an infamous identity for being scornful and anti-social. he is lesser lord kusanali’s assistant, a thinly veiled title to mask the fact that he is a prisoner under her watch. many do not know him because he refuses to work in the spotlight, much like the acting grand sage, and those who do don’t always have the best impression of him.

and even lesser truly know of where he had come from: his mother who is raiden ei, his origins in tatarasuna, his affiliation with the fatui, his obsession with the electro gnosis, and what he once was to sumeru: a false god, a monster, the near-cause of the land of wisdom’s destruction.

but the lack of something will always be attracted to an abundance of something. you are nothing but lovely; the loveliest, if anyone had to say. you are dazzling and you are beautiful, turning heads towards you when you walk the street. you are kind and generous towards the stray kittens on treasure street, and cheerful and easygoing with the store owners when you visit them. people sing praises of you everywhere wanderer goes, and to say he hadn’t had his own experience with you was incorrect.

he remembers himself fighting wave after wave of fatui soldiers, and himself slowly getting more exhausted by the minute, when you came in like a saviour angel from above, plunging on the last of enemies with your bow. he recalls your hits being barely a fraction of how hard he can slice through an enemy, yet when you assisted in defeating those annoying fatui back then, you turned around and asked if he was okay with the brightest smile imaginable.

(to the traveler or nahida, he would’ve given a sarcastic reply. to any ordinary civilian, he would’ve ignored them and been on his way. that day, he recalls being utterly speechless, while the rising sun glows behind your head, giving you a halo, illuminating your smile further. you are the most radiant sight he has ever seen.)

he seeks you out secretly like a stray cat following the only kind soul who fed it milk. sometimes, he watches over you in the air, making sure you’re safe. other times he just observes your interactions with others, ever so relieved to see that you are loved by sumeru just as much as you have shown its people love. more often than not he catches himself drifting off to a dream filled with you, being flustered and ashamed of such pathetic behaviour. but sometimes he also gets too lost in his thoughts, melancholy overtaking his face when he thinks of the shining star that you are.

wanderer’s hands are decorated with filth and blood. they show, sometimes, after an exhausting fight with the fatui. in his peripheral vision, hallucinations of that kid, that blacksmith, and the doctor come and go. in the dead of night, when sumeru sleeps soundly and all that is to be heard are the rustling of leaves in the wind, wanderer looks at his shaking hands and closes them in a fist, wiping them harshly, trying to rub off the sins stained on them. he is a terrible person to others. he is a terrible person to himself.

he is not a lovely person. you are the embodiment of ‘lovely’ itself. he couldn’t possibly deserve to be with you, lest his filth and sinful hands taint your pure being. it would simply be unconscionable for someone like him; damaged past, wreck and ruin, an empty soulless shell, to be close to your brightness. no one, not even himself, would forgive him if he were to ruin who you are: sumeru’s loveliest, the one who loves sumeru, and the one whom sumeru loves.

it is yet another night of watching you enter your house safely, staring at your front door for a few moments more before heading back to his residence (nevermind that he was the one to clear all the enemies in your path ahead, while you weren’t seeing). if nahida ever pointed out the lingering fond look in his eyes, or if the traveler teased him about having a possible crush on someone, there would be no need to blush madly and scamper away like a schoolgirl, for he knows that there is zero chance of “us” with him and you.

-

there are many fairy tales that are popular in morepesok village, most of which ajax have heard in his childhood many times. his distant memories include his mother, still youthful and full of smiles, reading him one of such fairy tales to lull him to sleep. he remembers her warm caress, the pulling of a quilt over his tiny body, and the soft flicker of the candle beside his mother, waiting to be blown out for the night. he also remembers you, his childhood best friend, his sleepover buddy, his other half, tucked into bed right next to him. if he searched hard enough, he might find some candid pictures of you and him, cuddled next to each other in the bed, in his childhood home.

“so then, the prince and the princess ended up happily ever after again?” 8 year-old ajax yawned, a sleepy smile on his face.

“they did, again,” his mother’s warm chuckle resonates throughout the room, through his ears, into his heart. he stores her laugh like a cassette tape in his memory, wanting to play it over and over again in the future.

“i can’t imagine a fairy tale where the prince and princess don’t end up together,” you murmured beside ajax, as his mother tucked the two of you in.

“that should be us, then,” ajax turned to face you and grinned, “so we’ll never be apart. let’s pinky promise that you’ll always be the princess and i’ll always be the prince!”

“why do i have to be your princess?” you complained, only to be shushed by ajax’s mother before she blew the candle out, signalling the end of pillow talk and the start of dreamland.

(all three of you knew it was impossible for you and ajax to be completely silent after lights out. the giggles that progressively get louder and harder after his mother leaves the room are testament to that.

this time, however, ajax is deadly silent, and you reach out to cup his face to ask what’s wrong.)

“sorry,” ajax holds the hand you cupped his cheek with. “you don’t have to be the princess, it’s okay. but i want to be your prince. i want to rescue you from the bad guys and defeat bad guys in your name. i’ll even do a pinky promise to prove it.”

even though you don’t give him a verbal answer, you hold his hand as he sleeps. it brings enough reassurance to 8 year-old ajax.

such peaceful times are unreachable now, ever since he fell.

ajax has not seen you for ten years. you have seen tartaglia for none.

when he returns, his familiar fluff of ginger hair in front of your doorstep, you have to do a double take. gone is the scrawny boy you knew, that got sick after every ice fishing trip, and cried over the smallest of scratches; in front of you now stands a fearsome harbinger, the tsaritsa’s vanguard, a killing machine with no life in his eyes.

(that is not ajax, any longer. that is tartaglia. that is a fatui harbinger. where is your ajax?)

you cannot bring yourself to smile when he presents you with a bouquet of pink roses, despite how beautifully preserved and fragrant they are. your heart doesn’t soften even when he greets your parents politely, plays with your siblings, cooks your family dinner, and helps with the dishes. that is not ajax whom you’ve let into your home, in contrast to what the rest of your family believes. that is a stranger who has intruded your safe space.

it hurts childe more than it hurts you to be on the receiving end of haunted eyes and hostile stares. he knows that he is vastly different from the childhood best friend he was to you ten years ago, and no matter what he does now, you will always see him as tartaglia, childe, the vanguard. you love ajax, but ajax is who he once was. ajax had been forced to throw himself away to survive. it wasn’t his fault that ajax is dead, but he cannot blame you for defiantly wanting your ajax back.

so when he kneels in front of you, the snowy wind feeling a lot more colder than usual, he ignores the way your hands tense when he holds it. he wants to cry when you attempt to pull your hand away even though he kisses it as gently as gentle can be. if an outsider were to witness this, they’d call this a romantic scene, between a prince and his beloved. but both you and ajax know that the fairy tale you yearned for in your childhood is completely unreachable now.

(“give me back my ajax.”)

(“i’m sorry.”)

-

to say that the great magician lyney is fully authentic in his shows would be a bit of a stretch, for he is an actor on the stage before he is a magician, however hard or long he may rehearse the day before the show. every smile had been sculpted and practised for hours until it was deemed perfect enough to be seen by his audience. needless to say, ‘the great magician lyney’ is merely a farce, an identity of its own. he wishes not to confuse that lyney with ‘fatui lyney’ and just ‘lyney’.

you were just supposed to be another face in the audience, an unsuspecting fellow he was meant to charm, attract, and never remember the face of. but you show up to a show once, then twice, then thrice, and soon you become a familiar face that lyney notices in the audience every now and then.

(that’s what lyney says, at least. lynette knows that he secretly seeks out your face behind the curtains, and the moment he finds you, his smile widens a tad bit, and his voice is a little cheerier as he steps out on stage.

by the way, since when did he start using rainbow roses in his performances? ugh, darn charlotte.)

but it is not easy to always be just ‘lyney’ with you, for he is called to be the great magician by day, and fatui by night. rarely is there time given to him to be his true self in front of you, to let the curtains fall and the farce fade. you can’t remember the last time he was allowed to let his shoulders slump, his face be bare of makeup, and his head rest under your chin as you kissed his tears.

and it seems you won’t be seeing those ever again.

lyney feels his blood run cold the moment father mentions your name in a mission, so casually, almost as if she had let your name slip out of her lips innocently and accidentally, if he hadn’t known any better. but lyney has been her loyal servant, her ‘favourite child’ for years, and he knows that the mere mention of your name is but a warning to him.

“i seem to be craving coffee recently. no one brews it quite as well as [name] does, i fear,” is what the knave says.

that person seems to be distracting you. i will eliminate them soon, is what she means.

lyney cannot afford to let anymore people close to him get hurt. his parents, who passed when he was very young… lynette, whose life had been endangered too many times to count… cesar, who taught him everything and treated him with love even in just ten days…

you shouldn’t need to fall into the same trend as well. your life is peaceful, precious, and untainted unlike his. so, it should remain untouched. and lyney decides that this is when he does what he has to do.

on the day that you return home and see lumidouce bells on your doorstep instead of lyney, you feel your heart plummet to your stomach. your gut turns and folds nastily, and stars increasingly flood your vision while a silent plea rings in your head, but there is nothing logical that refutes the contents of the letter that lyney had left you. that is all you have left of him.

the rest is to be expected. feeling betrayed and abandoned, you lose all feelings for lyney, not wanting to be associated with him again. his gifted trinkets left in your house are all thrown out. you can’t look at a magic show advertisement for more than two seconds. it takes only a little while to get over this heartbreak, but once you are fully free of all emotional attachment to lyney, you never think about him and his rainbow roses ever again.

lyney’s plan goes exceptionally well. of course it does; it was as meticulously planned as all his performances are. he returns to the house later that night to report back to father, submitting his response to her threats weeks ago: [name] is nothing to me now. hence, you cannot hurt them.

(however successful his plan was, he cannot bring himself to smile in response to the knave’s satisfied one.)

later, on the same night, when he slips out of the house, he finds himself wandering towards the place where he usually picks his rainbow roses from. a gentle pluck, a flick of his hand; a lumidouce bell takes its place instead. he smiles at his own trick bitterly, before pressing his lips to the blue flower and intertwining another rainbow rose with it. 

a moment of hesitation comes, followed by a few minutes of uneasy pacing, until lyney makes the decision to squeeze the petals with his gloved hand. the crumpled pink and blue petals fall to the ground. lyney only gazes as they do so.

(he wishes he could do the same to his own heart, but that is barely a fraction of how he made you feel. he will look for more ways to punish himself, then.)

[ordowrites]

I want it to be known the C for Cum point on the Wanderer post gave me like the most intense brainrot- Like now I just have the mental image of trans Wanderer with like an intense breeding kink and equally as intense baby fever and like he keeps trying to breed his partner but he can't because he has no dick and no fertile cum so dude is just going through the most intense "I would knock you up if I could" type shit-

Like bro is just going through the nightmare of every lesbian and trans-man that just wants bio-kids and that is going to live in my head rent free for the next month because honestly I fucking feel that so hard bro-

oh my god anon, i feel you on this. it has to be a common thing amongst us XD

BUT this has inspired me so-

cw: breeding kink, afab reader, notsfw, use of toys, biting.

trans!wanderer is ago~

You'd seen him watching families come and go on the streets each day, a thin frown on his beautiful face - you think he looks envious most of the time and always considered asking if he wants to have children (but never quite doing so because you know you'll get a snappy response in return).

Perhaps, you've entertained the thought of a family with him - biological children are off the table for you both but adoption isn't a bad thought. Or hell, maybe finding out how his creator made him and mimicking that if he wants.

Whatever would make him happy.

Baby fever hits him pretty hard on the bad days - those are the days he'll shove you onto the bed, all but rip your clothes off - fingers working at your cunt until you're begging for mercy. He knows all of your spots to make you cum quickly, easier to make you ready for whatever strap on or toy he's picked out for your quivering hole.

His breath is always hot at your hear, needy moans escaping his pretty lips as he shoves himself against you.

"Imagine," he'd groan and growl against your ear, nipping at your earlobe. His movements are erratic, desperate - he's close himself and you're already a mess of your own slick, the fake semen from the dildo, and his. He always makes a mess of you. "You round and plump with my babies, my children. Mine." He bites at your breasts, focusing particularly on making you keen and whimper, sensitive buds perked and ready.

You cannot mistake the need in those violet hues, the desperation - and you sure as shit wish you could give him what you wanted.

The thought makes you clench around the toy, makes him cum - squirt - himself. There's bruises on your wrists from where he'd grabbed you, bite marks on your chest and neck, claw marks along his back and shoulders.

He'd cage you in for a few minutes - breathing hard as you kiss his face in a sloppier, wet manner as you stroke his hair that feels too real to belong to a puppet. You'd quietly assure him that you love him so so much and he'd only grunt in response.

It would be an immaculate conception, you think. Wouldn't it? You're tired, but he's hoisting your legs up on his shoulders. It's never a one time deal - not with him, never with the Wanderer. When he does something, he makes sure he does it multiple times. Until you're both exhausted, until he's satiated and content. The Wanderer never sings you praises, but he certainly does whenever the baby fever strikes him.

So, every time, all you can do is spread your legs wider, wrap your arms around his shoulders, and pull him close.

[kazumist]

scaramoochie with kissing his knuckles or his wrists DHOSHAODFN

although he won’t admit it, scaramouche loves it when you kiss him.

be it on the lips, his cheek, his forehead—anywhere. he loves the feeling of your lips pressing into his skin. but scaramouche really loves it when you kiss his knuckles.

as the two of you were on the couch, scaramouche was reading while you were mindlessly playing with his hand (he lets you have your own fun as you just randomly rub on his knuckles and pull on his fingers). but what he didn’t expect was to feel you kiss his knuckles all of a sudden. 

“something the matter?” he asks.

“oh, nothing. i just know you love it when i kiss you here,” you say, pressing yet another kiss. 

the blush that was creeping up his cheeks was visible in your peripheral vision, but he quickly covered his face with the book he was holding. you laugh at his actions as you pull the book down; this time you kissed the top of his nose.

“damn you...” he groans at you and at himself for getting into such a flustered state. he hears another laugh from you, and this time you gave him a quick peck on the lips.

scaramouche loves it when you kiss him, even when you get him to be in such a state.

[harque]

" vows "

summary ੭୧ 0.8k — SFW “innocent” prince kunikuzushi, only son of the almighty shogun, is desperate to overthrow his mother after being abandoned. he ends up marrying the leader of an enemy nation, who promises to help him get his revenge.

features — gn!reader, kingdom! au (?), reader in a suit, enemies and lovers, manipulation, mild angst, murder mention, kuni's planet sized ego (we love to see it)

As Kunikuzushi gazed into the vanity mirror, mindlessly smoothing invisible creases from his flowing veil of purple tulle, he could hardly bring himself to believe that the vision of beauty staring impassively back was his reflection. His hair was perfectly arranged, his makeup was precise, and if he tilted his head the right way his eyelashes would catch the candlelight and cast a sparkling shadow across his cheeks.

With an expert touch, he straightens to apply the tiniest amount of blush to the outside of his eyes, a blossom of color to freshen his ghostly complexion. Then, he adjusted his narrow lips—adopting a look of serenity closely resembling his Mother's calm, composed frown.

(Where was the carefree boy who loved craft and dance more than anything in the world? When had he been replaced by a man with ancient eyes?)

He'd been molded into a perfect copy of her.

Kunikuzushi's passive expression twisted into something between rage and disgust at the sight. He wished his reflection showed someone else. Anyone else.

“You know, you look a little pale, doll,” came a voice from behind, and he turned to see you leaning in the doorway. “If you're getting cold feet, it's not too late to change your mind.”

“I'm fine,” Kunikuzushi huffs dismissively, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. The suit you're wearing is immaculately clean and well tailored—the expensive fabric drapes tastefully over your figure, demanding attention. (It's ridiculous how well it fits you.)

“Don't you have somewhere else to be right now?” He knows his voice sounds more sour than he intends, but he can't help it. You annoy him.

“Oh please,” you scoff, brushing past the door frame. “I'm just here to check up on you, I thought you might need some company.” He watches you casually saunter over to him, your footsteps making quiet clicks against the marble flooring.

“I don't.” He answers flatly. However, he already resigned himself to your presence, shifting to make room for you on the plush bench. You sit, smiling, taking a moment to observe him.

His simple, yet elegant white kariginu robe fit snugly, but it was the dark purple veil embroidered with flowers that gave him an air of softness. You don't think it was supposed to look gorgeous, but he'd always been pretty, it was hard not to notice.

Kunikuzushi's gaze was now directed at the wall, carefully blank and eying decorations, as if he's trying to avoid letting you see any hint of feeling.

Cute. If he could trust you fully, he wouldn't be able to keep his eyes off you.

“I'm sure you do, no need for all the attitude.” You lean your shoulder against his, the scent of your fragrance filling the space between you. His nose wrinkles, trying not to inhale too deeply.

“Besides,” you say, brightening your tone. “I do have another reason for visiting! The Shogun just sent a letter inviting us to the capital.” Kunikuzushi whipped around to give you an incredulous look.

This is the opportunity he's been waiting for, after all—the chance to eliminate his mother in a public setting.

You've already mapped the assassination out together very thoroughly (so precisely to the point where every detail was accounted for). However, you also know there is a slim opportunity to seize the throne after. He wasn't thinking about that right now, but with a little nudge he was sure to pick up on the rest.

“She wants to officially recognize our union with a celebration. I think we should go.” You stand and pull him up with you, flitting past the vanity, twirling him out into the empty space as if he was your personal puppet.

“The entire empire will be there for us. They'll applaud the bravery of their precious prince for his sacrifice... marrying a monster to spare them from war.”

When you tug him back in, he automatically rests his free hand on your waist. You adapted easily, splaying your opposite hand over his shoulder. There was something undeniably hopeful in those dark eyes of his, a glimmer of greed he could try to choke down all he wants, but you know him too well to ever truly forget.

Kunikuzushi guides you in a proper dance, the veil swaying behind him with enviable grace.

“...they'll be cheering for her too, of course. The poor citizens will believe it was all her idea.” You went on, sounding wistful. “Soon, they'll have no choice but to see she is nothing but a pathetic imitation of a person; a shadow designed to deceive. They deserve someone real.”

You feel his delicate hand pressing into the small of your back as he makes a particularly sharp turn, leading you into a dip.

“You can be real. What do you think, doll?” The words slip from your tongue, but you don't even feel it.

“I think,” he finally responds, leaning close enough so his breath ghosted against your lips, “you should stop calling me that. I'm not a doll.”

“I never said you were,” you amended, tilting your head. “It's a term of endearment. What would you like me to call you instead?”

His heartbeat is pounding so forcefully that you can almost feel his pulse through your own chest.

“Lord,” he says.

That was the only confirmation you need. He's so eager, you find it sweet that he already confidently claims the title. Oh, the things you do for him…

“Fine,” your smile widens. “If you insist, my lord.”

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