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scarasbaby · 12 days

Text

✩ A Silent Heartbeat ✩

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

Xiao x gn!adeptus!reader

Summary: Xiao has never noticed the beauty of the world around him─ or of his "partner", either.

TW: Self depreciation, survivors guilt

Cws: Xiao talks down on himself a lot, angsty, hurt/comfort(??), sun and moon trope(if you squint)

Wc: Around 4.3k (I've gone insane)

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Xiao's pants come in heavy as he stares at his surroundings.

This ruin guard factory had been becoming more and more active, something he couldn't allow to continue.

There had been a small girl who was almost harmed under his watch by these very ruin guards. Unforgivable, he thought.

How could he, an adeptus sworn to protect the vast lands of Liyue, allow a small child to feel such fear for her life? Unforgivable.

His face is expressionless as he removes the Yaksha mask, placing it back upon his waist.

His work done, he sets out to retire back to the inn for a while to gather his bearings. Then, he shall set out again on his nightly patrol of Liyue.

He appears where he always does, on the roof of Wangshu Inn. There, he sits. He has not the right mind to admire the way the stars shine, nor the crisp night air on his tongue. Instead, he fixates on the scent of bloodshed still lingering on his person.

He notices footsteps on the balcony of Wangshu Inn coming in rapidly. Looking down, it's..

Them.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

An adeptus of fairly negligible background, they serve as a mere worker at Wangshu Inn. However, not long ago..

they were to be assigned as Xiao's personal healer.

Xiao never took care of himself well. Any wound he received he'd brush off as a "flesh wound", not paying much attention. He was an adeptus, how could he protect Liyue and uphold his promise to Morax if he would allow such 'small' wounds hinder his ability to carry out his duties?

Of course, as an adeptus, naturally, the wounds would heal. However, it was no secret that adepti could still feel pain. Even of 'flesh wounds'.

This was made apparent to Zhongli─ Morax, by them.

In turn, Morax summoned Xiao. Without question, Xiao returned to Morax's side, awaiting orders, when─

"Xiao. I'd like to introduce you to your new partner." His deep voice resounded through the walls.

Xiao looks up from his bowed position, eyes piercing and sharp.

There, stands another adeptus, their person adorned with many medicinal herbs utilized for mortal use.

"Useless," He thinks. Mortal medicine doesn't work on him. He's an adeptus, he's meant to be above these material things. He's meant to protect mortals, not waste supplies they need. It'd be undignified of him.

They introduce themselves. Their name, their occupation. "Herbalist," they said. "Doctor," they said.

Useless.

An herbalist? A doctor? A partner?

How useless.

Xiao had no need for those things. He was simply..

he simply..

No matter. He had no need.

However, Morax was persistent on the topic, and who was he, really, to deny Morax's orders? Nobody. So, Xiao 'accepts' this 'partner' of his, with no intentions to further a relation with them.

It began small. Instead of the chef of Wangshu Inn leaving the food for him, they did it. It began with them simply being the one to deliver the almond tofu, leaving it in the night's solemn embrace for him, to them sitting near the balcony's table, carefully setting down the plate for him in wait.

The weight of Morax's expectations pressed upon him like a leaden cloak, each silent command a heavy burden upon his shoulders.

With a resigned sigh, he begrudgingly accepted their presence, feeling the weight of duty pulling him down. He sat in stoic silence, his jaw clenched tight, unwilling to indulge in conversation but willing enough to endure the oppressive silence that hung between them.

..did not deserve.

At best, he'd spare a few words for them. They did this a while, until he learned..

he was specially reserving parts of his day for them. For that very moment.

And then..

He'd reserve for them parts of him. For that very moment.

For that very moment they meet under the moon's gentle glow, as friends, as colleagues, as..

Partners.

It used to be a chore to speak even a few words to them, to even sit at the same table as them. Yet, now..

He craved it.

He wanted them to listen. He wanted them to hear what he had gone through.

Maybe..

Maybe they'd accept him.

What a foolish thought. Incredibly irresponsible─ how could he disregard the fact that his karmic debt would still chip away at their very being, their soul.

So he strays away from them. He sits on the roof longer, peering down at them.

He observes how they deflate when he's late. When he doesn't show up at all.

How their eyes fall down, as they fidget with an accessory on their person, and as they huff to see their breath in the cool night air.

He can't help himself from feeling..

incomplete.

Without their presence, without their listening ear, without their calming voice, without their soft chiding and scolds, he's..

missing something.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

He looks down as they sit there, still waiting for him. As the moon reaches its peak, he realizes they won't leave.

He could just take the almond tofu and leave, right?

He couldn't have anticipated this.

His arrival is immediately met with their warm embrace. He was surprised, startled even.

Dealing with the vicious beasts of Teyvat was usual for him. Not even the most abominable creatures and monsters could make him cower anymore.

And yet..

These mortal feelings, this mortal warmth..

It shook him to his core.

Quickly, they pull away, apologizing for the sudden intrusion of his 'personal space'.

This.. was not a feeling familiar to him.

They apologize profusely, placing the almond tofu on the table and leaving quickly.

He sits down by himself, bringing the almond tofu to his mouth.

Tonight..

The stars seemed to shine brighter.

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The next night he returns with a gaping gash on his arm. He hadn't slept in days, causing his guard to falter for a moment too long.

He grits his teeth as the pain meshes into the strings of karmic debt, pulling and pushing at him constantly.

Without thinking, he jumps down to the balcony.

They seem startled, but the surprise is met with worry as they see the large gash on his arm. Immediately, they stand up, assessing the wound.

Without hesitation, they take his other arm and throw it around their shoulder, holding him up with their own arm.

They lead him to his room, setting him down carefully onto the bed.

"What did I say about sleeping? Even adepti must rest," They chide, carefully wetting a towel and dabbing the spot, causing him to hiss.

"I have to need for mortal activities. I live only to kill, and to kill alone. Sleep is unnecessary." He speaks out gruffly, looking the other way, towards the window.

"This wound speaks otherwise. How are you to protect Liyue if you can't even protect yourself? I require you to rest for at least 3 days before you return to duty." They say, running a hand along the wound.

The wound closes up partially, courtesy of their healing abilities. They open up their medicine bag, pulling out some herbs he's never seen before.

"Mortal medicine won't─"

"This isn't mortal medicine," They interrupt him before he can finish speaking, some of the leaves in their mouth as they place some others in the mortar and pestle to crush into a fine powder.

After a few moments, they add in an herbal base, mixing the two together. They lightly apply the cool paste to his wounded skin. He grits his teeth at the sudden sensation.

"This is adepti medicine. I have specially cultivated it myself. It should help with the pain." They explain, seeming unphased as they crush up another bundle of leaves.

"This.. this will induce a restful sleep. I require you take this every night before the moon reaches its peak." They clarify, holding out the paste that has been mixed into a tea-like base.

He opens his mouth to protest stubbornly, to again, state how he, an adeptus, could not leave his position for such 'useless' rest. However, he, again, is silenced by them. This time..

by their unfaltering gaze.

Eyes swelled with worry, no doubt had he never seen such emotion within an expression, just..

just for him.

He quiets, accepting the treatment.

"...and adepti must eat. Before I send you off to rest, I shall bring you your almond tofu. Don't move too much, that wound isn't completely healed yet." They say, leaving the room, leaving him with his thoughts.

The wind howled outside, a symphony of nature's fury as it swept through the trees, rattling their branches and sending leaves swirling in a chaotic dance.

He looks until he sees his reflection in the window, faintly.

He's pathetic, he thinks. Requiring help as the sworn protector of Liyue, he.. he..

He really didn't deserve this.

How could he have survived? All the other Yaksha..

Why was he the only one left?

Xiao's gaze drifted to the ground, his fists clenched at his sides. Memories of battles lost and comrades fallen flashed through his mind like shards of glass. He wasn't the strongest Yaksha, that much was clear.

Each defeat weighed heavily on his shoulders, a constant reminder of his inadequacy. The thought gnawed at him like a festering wound, twisting his insides with self-doubt. As he looked up at the star-filled sky, he couldn't help but wonder: how could anyone love a warrior who had failed so many times?

He shouldn't have survived. He shouldn't have lived to see this day. And he really shouldn't allow himself the luxury to even.. enjoy these days.

He did not deserve this more than the other Yaksha did. He did not deserve peaceful days, he did not deserve compassion, he did not deserve love and care like the other Yaksha did.

The other Yaksha would have surely treated them better.

Unlike him, who treats them with unwavering frigidity.

Unlike him, who acts indifferent to their acts of service.

Unlike him, who craves their voice, their touch, but will never speak of it.

Unlike him, who is unworthy.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

Footsteps are unheard throughout the halls. He can sense them as they make their way back to his room, a plate of almond tofu in hand.

This was not the plate on the balcony before. This was a new plate, plated differently and made differently from that of the usual; this was not made by the hands of the chef of Wangshu Inn.

"I've decided that the almond tofu on the balcony wasn't tasteful anymore. Here. I've made it myself. I apologize for any mistakes made, the chef wasn't present at this time." They speak quietly, sitting near his bedside and passing him the plate as he sits up.

With his good arm, he raises the mortal utensil to take a bite of it.

It tastes..

It tastes just like a sweet dream.

"..please take the medicine on the bedside. It will help you sleep. If you require anything of assistance, I will be in the room over. Please call my name." They stand up, gathering their things, before a hand clutches their wrist.

He wants to ask for them to stay, just for a while longer, he wants to tell them all of these complicated human emotions, but he quiets these thoughts.

"Thank.. you." He manages to mutter, before quickly releasing them.

They give him a small nod and leave.

That night, he takes the sleeping medicine.

The dreams it induces are..

sweet.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

The next morning, he awakes to the sound of the morning birds singing, the sun filtering through the shades of his room.

Sitting up, he feels his head pound. No more than a side effect of the medicine, he assures himself.

Waking up this way was.. new.

It felt so.. tranquil here.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of the herbalist walking into his room. They sit down near his bedside once more, holding the back of their hand to his forehead to check for temperature.

"Good morning, Xiao. How do you feel?" They ask, rummaging through their bag for something.

"..Fine." He replies curtly, unwilling to elaborate.

"Alright then. I suggest you stay in bed for today. Tomorrow, you should be set to start moving again, but still no combat or sharp movements, you hear me?"

"..This is unnecessary."

"Do you hear me, Xiao?" They reiterate again sternly.

He paused, knowing they wouldn't let up until he agreed.

"..yes." He murmurs begrudgingly.

"Perfect. I'll have Smiley Yanxiao prepare your─"

"Can you.. please.. do it.." He manages to rasp, his voice caught in his throat at the prospect. What was he doing? Why would he say that? They were already taking such good care of him.. something he truly didn't deserve. So why.. why was he asking for more? Why did he crave more?

They pause.

Were they going to deny his request? To have his request, spoken so brazenly be denied was to be expected, he thought. He said to himself, "Why would they ever do this for me again? They'd be better off with nothing to do with me."

"..Of course." They reply.

"Stay here. It'll only be a moment. And remember; no sharp movements." They remind, leaving the room, and leaving Xiao breathless in the process.

Breathless from the sheer effort it took to mutter that request.

Breathless from their reply.

And breathless from them.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

The moments pass as Xiao stares down at his lap. Xiao: bedridden, helpless, at the mercy of another adeptus.

The other Yaksha would never humor this idea of him. After all, he was always so cold and brooding, who would ever think of him sitting in bed, with only his thoughts to accompany him? And with..

A companion, to boot.

This time, he doesn't sense their presence before they walk through the door.

He let his guard down again. And he wasn't even tired.

How foolish of him. What if it had been some kind of creature? He couldn't begin letting his guard down like this. This would be detrimental to his role as protector of Liyue. How could he be so weak? How could he be so foolish?

But it wasn't. It was them.

"Xiao?" Their voice snaps him out of his thought.

"Here you are. Please take this time to rest. Liyue needs its protector, but no living being is simply a machine. Liyue needs its protector to be in his best condition, alright?" They say, folding some of the towels by his bed.

"..right." He mutters, mouth full of almond tofu.

"I'll be off today. I must tend to my fields." They stand up from their sitting position.

"Just call my name if you ever need me, and I will be there." They say, as their footsteps trail out of the room, their presence disappearing soon.

That day, he takes his time looking out at the world. The sun had begun to set, the air beginning to change into the sharp night he was all too familiar with.

He never noticed the beautiful oranges, yellows, and pinks before. When the sun sets, it paints such a beautiful picture. Much unlike the sight of bloodshed he usually observed. The blood staining his clothing, the blood staining the ground around him.

He took the medicine on his bedside, slowly drifting off to sleep as the sun followed suit.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

The next time he awoke, they were already there with a plate of almond tofu for him, made fresh. His arm certainly felt better, he noticed.

The sun seemed brighter than he'd ever noticed, the trees lush and the flowers seemed to prosper under its watchful gaze.

He sits up in bed, hands in his lap.

"May I touch your arm?" They ask.

He's surprised. Nobody has ever asked him before. They might have noticed how his demeanor changed with physical contact. They..

worried about his comfort?

..Inconceivable.

He slowly nods, holding out his arm. It surely felt better than it did the day before, but it still slightly hurt to hold out.

They trace two fingers over his wound, helping the scarring swell down. After, they apply the cooling paste once more.

"It looks like you'll be alright," They begin.

"You'll be able to get out of bed today. Just no fighting. And no sharp movements, as the wound could still open." They conclude, standing up to leave after their assessment of the situation. They must be going back to tend to their fields, something Xiao had no experience in. He doubted he could be helpful, and him, a merciless killer, tending to delicate plants and herbs? He could never. But still..

"May I.. come with you?" He chokes out. "To.. to your fields." He clarifies.

A slight expression of surprise surfaces on their face as they think for a moment. They seemed perplexed.

"I.. I understand if─"

"..You can come." They nod. "I don't mind some extra help. And it's good to get some fresh air."

"You mean.. I can.. come?" He asks, mouth running dry.

"Of course. Would you be ready to come now? I can wait a few moments."

"Y.. yes. I can come now." He quickly says, sounding more.. eager than he meant to.

"Great. Would you like a change of clothing? I'll have your current clothes washed."

"A change of clothing? I don't own any other articles of clothing."

"..ah. I see. Not to worry, I'm sure there are some basic articles of clothing in here." They say, walking over to the dressers and rummaging through them. Not a few moments later do they return with some basic clothing─ a brown shirt that clasps in the middle and pants that are tapered at the bottom.

"I assume you don't need help with dressing?" They ask, cocking an eyebrow.

"No. I have not lost my ability to dress." He speaks, looking away.

"Good, good. I'll be outside of your room should you require any assistance. Feel free to come out once you're ready." They say, leaving the room and shutting the door.

Once dressed, Xiao takes in the feeling of the common clothing.

He's never been in this clothing before. It felt.. different. The cloth felt strange on his body. This.. was mortal clothing. He should never be seen wearing mortal clothing. It was unbecoming of someone of his status.

Walking out of the room, he catches a glimpse of them in the kitchen, helping Smiley Yanxiao with the influx of orders. Their moves are quick, nimble, and he finds that they are skilled in cooking. Their hands are delicate, most likely due to the skill required to pluck plants and herbs from the ground without damaging them.

They look up and see Xiao. Smiling at Smiley Yanxiao, they wave a goodbye to him and walk over to Xiao.

The pair set off not a moment later.

Walking on the stone path, a silence covers the two. The hot sun was at its peak, leading the herbalist to pull up their sleeves.

Soon after, they arrive at the plot of land. As far as Xiao's eye can see, the fields are filled with various different types of herbs. They harvest this.. all by themselves?

"If you'd like to help, go and grab a few of the baskets. We'll begin with 3, and then we can get more if needed." They instruct, leaving him to find the baskets.

Doing mortal chores in mortal clothing, how idiotic of him to partake in such activities, he thought to himself as he moved through the fields, trying his best not to trample any of the plants.

As he makes his way back, he finds they they've already plucked many herbs from the ground. They must be used to this by now.

He leans downward, trying his best to pluck the herbal leaves. He's confused when the leaf crumbles in his grasp. Perhaps this was just a testament to his murderous nature, unable to appreciate beauty and preserve it. Perhaps he really was only meant for murder, killing, and war. Perhaps─

His thoughts are interrupted as they seem to notice his struggle, crouching down next to him. Beckoning him to look and observe, their hands gently pluck the leaves without haste. This leaves it pristine, looking as if it had been untouched.

His breath hitches. He could never do that. His work was based on haste and power. He could only ever destroy beauty, this was a fact he knew rang true. But as they took his hand, gently ran his coarse fingers across the leaves, and plucked it with such care, he wondered..

..was he capable of being.. gentle?

He discarded the thought.

As he worked alongside them in the fields, a sense of tranquility settled over him, the burden of his duties momentarily lifted by the simple act of tending to the earth.

The torturous strings of his karmic debt still tore at him, body and soul, even if he should have been at peace.

Who was he angry at?

That night, he lies in bed, staring out at the window to catch a glimpse of the moons glow. He never noticed how bright it shone, even if the sun proved brighter.

The moonlight beamed down, coating the world in a fluorescent white. The world stands still, the world stagnating into a cold blue as the night ran its course.

He closed his eyes.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

The next time he opened his eyes, the dawn was still young. Looking out to the window, he took note of the warm sun that blanketed the landscape, protecting all in its light.

The reflection of himself in the glass of the window was more apparent, almost like the stained glass in an art piece.

The door creaks open, revealing them in their usual form.

As per usual, they come in and inspect his wound, checking for any changes.

"It should be almost fully healed by now. I do advise you take it easy for today, however, you're ready to get back on 'duty' tomorrow." They nod, staying in their sitting position.

They mutter something to themselves before turning to the bedside table, handing Xiao a plate of almond tofu.

Xiao silently takes the plate, bringing the spoon to his mouth for a mouthful.

Within their presence, he realizes, time.. felt endless.

The days that have passed were simple days, filled with menial, useless tasks.

So why did he feel..

So fulfilled?

The other Yaksha wanted to become as the mortals did once the archon war ended.

They all wanted to live what he was living now.

He, at that time, had no interest in the mortal lifestyle, even after the war.

..did he?

But even so, he had no business feeling fulfillment of any kind.

He who was worthless.

He who was unworthy.

Yet, that day, he stayed in bed without protest.

He sat idly instead of stubbornly requesting release.

And he spoke with them.

A long while.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

By the end of it, the wounds imbedded into his psyche were very evident.

They paused, pursing their lips a moment, before responding.

"...I apologize. My expertise.. is in the body, the flesh. I have no resources to heal the wounds of the mind."

"..Perhaps.. you are capable of much more than you believe." He replies, not quite understanding what his own words meant.

That night, as they left his room, he came to a conclusion.

The one he was angry at had always been himself.

Angry for surviving.

Angry for being so powerless.

Angry, for everything.

And yet, with the presence of his 'partner', he noticed the way the grass would bend to the breeze, as the tides would rise and fall with the moon.

He noticed the will of the mountains, unwavering and steeled.

He noticed the blooming of the flowers, resilient in their passage.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

The sun rises to light the path and protect, even if he doesn't realize it.

The moon rises to set the path for rest, its cold tones readying the world for the suns warmth.

The sun burns so bright to give hope and strength, but even the sun must rest, lest the sun burn itself to the core, unable to shine once more.

The moon may not shine as bright, but even so, it will always serve as a light in the dark, a symbol of rest.

The sun doesn't realize his capacity for warmth and love.

As the sun guides all others, the moon will slowly guide the sun unto the path of peace.

Where, on that pier,

he may finally look onto his reflection,

and accept who he is.

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scarasbaby · 15 days

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Forgot the post, know the fic?

Does anyone know that old Tumblr fic (1-2 parts) about Scaramouche and Reader's journey? During their Fatui days, Reader stops Scara from beating one of his subordinates and allows him to vent out his frustrations onto them instead. Scara is morbidly intrigued and irritated at how no matter what he does (beating, fucking, the works), Reader always has that same empty expression on their face, like a doll. He wants to know what it will take for Reader to break.

Fast forward to post-Irminsul erasure, Reader and Wanderer meet again in Sumeru. Reader eventually regains their memories and decides to stay with him. Reader notices how much Wanderer has changed from Scaramouche. They are rather uncomfortable and want their relationship to be like before but don't explicitly ask for it. Nahida meets with the both of them, exposes Reader's inner conflict (implied victim of abuse), and soothes them. Once Nahida leaves, the room is dead silent. "Who fucked you up?" Wanderer gently comforts Reader and that's when Reader finally starts breaking down in tears.

Where. is. that. fic. WHERE IS THAT DAMN FIC--I wanted to shed tears at the blatant toxicity and then feel heartwarming comfort at the ending but all I'm doing is shedding tears at how I'm never gonna be able to re-read that again! If anyone knows where it is, help me find it please.

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scarasbaby · 18 days

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ᴍᴀꜱQᴜᴇʀᴀᴅᴇ

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ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ ꜱᴄᴀʀᴀᴍᴏᴜᴄʜᴇ/ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Content includes: SFW, mentioned vampire Harbinger Childe, ball room dancing that's probably all over the place, the reader experiences stress (to say the least) and vomits.

Scroll away if you don't entertain any au's regarding vampires, witches, and hunters. Also this is quite long (yes again), almost two-thousand and five hundred words, grab a drink!

If you haven't read the first part: ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀʟʟ

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Before she could even begin to theorize who the person was, she’s promptly shut up once he ceases spinning her around and intertwines their hands. One of his hands takes hers from the same side and places it on his shoulder, resting his on her waist soon after. The gentleman looks.. soft; compared to his intimidating gaze and aura, his features are similar to those of a porcelain doll. A pretty one at that. If one were to differentiate between Childe and him, she could definitely say with confidence that the stranger is more pleasing to the eyes, one would be easy to be distracted by such a man.

The two stared at each other as they swayed gently from side to side, and [Name] felt her breath be taken away upon examining his face even further. Illuminated by the bright light of the chandelier above, his soft indigo-colored hair framing his soft cheeks, his pale skin, and sharp eyes perfectly compliment his very being; even [Name] could feel herself slowly starting to get insecure in his presence. And upon shifting her gaze to his lips, she could see the corner of his lips quirk up and the shine of a sharp and long fang.

[Name] gulps. “Is it too late to back out now?” the stranger muses, evidently entertained by her previous comment that was very obviously for the man she danced with before.

“..My apologies, dear sir; I had intended that for my previous dance partner, Childe, who.. had suddenly left.” She forces herself to look away, her gaze locking with the audience as she turns away, and sees Childe scurrying away in the crowd, not even bothering to look back at her.

Well, it's not like she wanted him to, but she was hoping he'd be attached somehow. Those make the killings easier.

The latter snorts, “Do you…” His laughter dies down as quickly as it came, and [Name] didn’t have enough time to react as he abruptly raised their intertwined hands and spun her around, eliciting a surprised gasp from the lady.

He slows her down after a few spins, intentionally making her land right on his chest. He places a careful hand on her back, pulling her closer, and he whispers, “When dancing with someone, it's rather rude to focus on other people, don't you think?”

“…” Her eyes widened, her mind turning to mush at their nonexistent distance, and her heart started beating loudly in her chest. Yet before she could even respond, he swiftly maneuvered her back to her previous place and started swaying them once again, wearing a small but polite smile.

“..My apologies; I was simply confused for a mere moment.” [Name] says through gritted teeth, mentally cursing at the rate of her heart at that one cheesy action. How many more times is he going to spin her around?!

“Forgiven,” he replies, a smirk growing on his lips. “I am Scaramouche, the 6th of the Eleven Harbingers. I must apologize for my fellow Harbinger’s actions. I’ll make sure to ask him to give you a proper apology later.”

[Name] smiles back politely and shakes her head. “Good evening, Sir Scaramouche, I am Lady [Name]. You ought not to, I’m sure the matter is something of outmost importance for him to handle.”

“Even if that is so, it’s still rather rude to leave your dance partner in the middle of it.”

“You need not to fret; I take no offense to it.”

Scaramouche squints his eyes. “Lying is not a very friendly mannerism to a stranger, is it?" he says, tilting his head to the side and peering down at her.

forcing a smile, [Name] made an effort to avoid glaring at him, “Quite so, though, may I ask why you took it upon yourself to replace my previous partner?” her charm was working marvelously on Childe, a little more would have him end up in her lab. Why did he have to intervene?

The Harbinger replies in a sly tone, “Upon realizing his gaze would inevitably stray away from you, I had to clean up after him to make sure he doesn’t do more harm than good.”

[Name] raises a brow, “Then one should not bother himself with a fleeting matter such as this, I assure you, there is no need to occupy your time with a dance.” She removes her hand from his shoulder and takes a step backward with her body following suit, accompanied by an outreached hand; the latter does the same and assists her once she spins herself and lands carefully near his chest. His hands outlining her waist, she wraps her arms around his neck and threw her head back as Scaramouche leans her downward.

She tries her utmost best to avoid ogling his face, “Why, there is no need to belittle this wonderful dance; I am finding it rather enjoyable, so consider my time well occupied.” Scaramouche praises, though [Name] could clearly see the empty words behind it.

He guides her back to her feet by the waist, “I am incredibly honored to hear such.” [Name] lies, moving her hands from his neck back to his shoulders as they started swaying side to side, frowning at his natural beauty and nonchalant behavior.

a flicker of doubt crosses his face, “..I find myself honored as well to be able to speak to you, Lady [Name].”

[Name] forces out a smile.

silence overruns the space between them, both plastering polite smiles on their faces, one more visible than the molecule of a smile the other has. After a few more seconds of their bodies swaying, they switched their perspective positions and once again intertwined their hands together. [Name] takes a step back before raising their hands to hang above her head to be able to place herself by his side, facing the opposite direction with their arms resting on top of each other.

To her surprise, it was he who broke the silence between them: “How does one find the event so far? I hope it suits to your adequate tastes.”

[Name] glances at him from behind. Is he one of the people who arranged the whole event? Or maybe well acquainted with the person who did?

Perhaps she should watch her mouth from now on.

“This event has been wonderful so far; I can tell a lot of effort has been put into it to make it satisfactory for both races,” she replies, which, in a way, is true.

Scaramouche suppresses what sounds like a scoff: “Yes, this whole event wishes to bring both the human race and the vampire race together.” The two break off the physical connection between their arms and held hands, with Scaramouche raising them as [Name] spins herself before doing the same for the latter. After he spins, they repeat their outstretched arms by their sides. “I must say, this whole idea is rather.. idealistic. Don’t you think so?” he continues, gaze glued to her figure during the whole step.

[Name] remains silent for a second longer. “Why does one think so?" she asks, her eyes finding it difficult to maintain eye contact. They each took a step to meet at the center and held hands, withdrawing for a mere moment before letting go of one pair as she started to slowly walk in a circle around him, with Scaramouche having to adjust his hand over his head once she made her way behind him.

“Anyone who had proper education would be able to process that.. ideas like that are just utterly impossible. It defies the natural law in the food chain, no? With who has the most favor in the eyes of the “gods,” it’s pretty obvious whose more deserving to rule.” Scaramouche states.

[Name] could almost trip at the absurdity of his belief. “…Is that so?”

He tilts his head once they come to face each other. “Do you not agree, Miss [Name]?”

“I.. don’t have a particular view on that subject,” [Name] mutters, lowering her head slightly to avoid his unwavering stare. Aside from the predicament she finds herself in, at least she can confirm that this gentleman is a vampire. A psychopathic human who would be willing to be a blood bag for vampires doesn’t seem to be a plausible explanation. It is also worth adding the glimpse of a fang she saw earlier, further supporting her theory. The only remaining challenge here is figuring out where he prefers his blood to come from.

They repeat their outstretched hands from their side, and [Name] could feel her anxiety (or could it be giddiness?) spike up once she felt his hands embrace the sides of her waist firmly after she spun herself to land with her back to his chest, “To be able to grasp the true reality of this hierarchy-focused world, one must adapt their beliefs and get rid of this foolish agenda,” he speaks up while lifting her carefully into the air, her feet kicking purely out of instinct at the loss of ground beneath her. [Name]’s heart rate only increases as he spins himself around, taking her along with it, her beautiful dress a dazzling display for the awed audience.

He swiftly gently places her back on the ground, their hands instinctively finding their way to each other, “Only in that way can you accomplish your desired goals,” Scaramouche adds, his eyes boring onto her whole being with silent but much perceived expectations. [Name] feels the overwhelming urge to run away to her bones; she feels naked around him. With the way he worded his sentences and the tone along with them, it was as if he knew everything about her already.

Cold sweat drips down her back.

What does he mean by that?

Does he mean something more?

Does he know I’m a witch hunter already?

Is he going to expose me?

Oblivious to her panic, Scaramouche continues dancing to the music, seemingly thinking she’s merely thinking about it in her head. He decides to take the lead. His hand always with hers as they became the sole partners left dancing under the light. Their movements were graceful and calculated, appearing to be peaceful for both parties, with the exception of [Name], whose expression slowly turned to one of morbid horror the longer they danced. Scaramouche, for some reason, doesn’t react whatsoever, only keeping a small smile on his face. Only giving rise to her unparalleled feeling of distraught.

The cheerful atmosphere inside the manor suddenly becomes claustrophobic, and the space around her seems to be choking all the air remaining inside her lungs. She needed to get out of there fast. She had underestimated the gravity of her whole situation; she had overestimated herself.

When will this dance end?

The music provided by the musicians was constantly fighting with the dominating ringing in her ears, the muffled voices of the audience increasing and decreasing in volume; it pierced her ears, yet it was almost as quiet as the soft whisper of the wind. Her feet stumbling even at the perfectly made marble floor, her heels screeching upon contact, they trip among themselves, every spin and turn made, but never did she make an attempt to run away. She can’t.

It’s all too much. She could feel the merciful brush of the wind upon her hair, the warm touch of the light above, the tight hug of the corset in her chest, yet the most primary of all, his penetrating gaze set on her, the strong scent of his cologne hazing her mind, his cold touch on her clothed skin, leaving a burning sensation behind. Every trail of his finger from her hand to her shoulder, down to her waist, creates a shockwave of shivers that resonates with her very core.

Please, please, have pity on me, gods!

Let this night end!

Suddenly, everything stops.

The crowd applauds as the music slows down, and they’re both standing in the middle of the circle, facing one another. [Name] had to take a moment to process it. She scans the room around her, and with her raggedy breathing, she can’t find it in herself to say anything, let alone breathe in his presence.

It’s… over?

Something heavy and tight presses itself against her neck, and she involuntarily flinches. Her hand immediately shoots up to her collar; it grasps on nothing. The imaginary force’s hold on her tightens as she locks gazes with Scaramouche. “I thank you again for having this dance with me, Miss [Name]. I hope the rest of the night treats you well.” He purrs and takes her hand up to his lips, pressing a light kiss on the glove.

She clutches her free hand tightly, “..To you too… Sir.” [Name] manages to croak out, barely hearing him over the sound of her heart in her ears and the audience’s amazement.

And with that, he lets go of her hand and leaves his station, blending in with the crowd only a few seconds later, and [Name] is left on her spot, frozen. Looking in his direction with a chill up her spine, this mission was too precious to give up, but was it really worth it just for her experiment?

Her stomach twists and turns in her throat, and [Name] makes quick work with her feet in finding the restroom.

She hastily washes her mouth and hands after exiting the cubicle, banging her hands onto the sink counter repeatedly.

Curse him, curse him, curse him!

her voice strains itself in her throat, tempting her to let it out, but imagining the possibility a fellow guest walking in on her and having to explain brings a blush to her cheeks and a headache in her already dazed head. So she settles by whispering it loudly to herself instead, resulting to her coughing into the sink as flashbacks of the previous dance floods her mind. She takes a deep breath with her eyes closed, but it proved to be useless meditation for his smell clouded her sense of smell everywhere she turns. Oh, how she wishes she could wash it off her right this moment.

It was intoxicating. He was intoxicating.

the sensation of dread and excitement only continued to plague her mind. It never occurred to her—the real danger of being undercover and having a dance with your victim. It was as if the gods were punishing her and keeping her humble.

She scoffs and takes out a small container she kept hidden in her, opening it before applying the ingredients imbedded in it to her lips, wrists, and neck.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

..this was originally supposed to be like 5k words but I held back (my schedule partook in it too). Truly, I was supposed to make this plus two more scenes all in one post, but I was editing and decided to check the word count and... almost 2,500k words... And I know that'll be a mouthful 😪 and I thought that if I delay it further I was afraid ya'll would lose interest and would probably forget about it, haha.

Apart from my self-pity, I really enjoyed making this! Took me like 5 days for this and the rest of the outline.. It was still enjoyable nonetheless. So I hope it's a joyful read too!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!

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scarasbaby · 27 days

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A little something I thought of🤷‍♀️ has my oc's name be can be read as a scara x reader??

The bed was a mess of tangled limbs, the sun shining through the curtains as the two cuddled up together to warm up during this unusually cold morning.

Shinua stirred awake, burying her face against the wanderer's chest, her ears brushing against his face, making his nose scrunch up a bit before relaxing again. She looks up at him, admiring how peaceful he looks while asleep since he always seems to be on guard when awake. She let's out a content sigh before resting her face against his chest again, her arms tightening around him just a tiny bit more.

She was about to fall back to sleep when he shuffled a bit, his eyes fluttering open to adjust to the light that's coming from the window. "good morning" she calls out softly a hand moving up to gently play with the hair at the back of his neck, her thumb lightly caressing the mark at the back of his neck. He humms at the action, nuzzling his face into her hair and mumbling back. "morning.."

She chuckles, shuffling up a little to be at eye level with him, nuzzling her nose against his while letting out a soft purr. He closes his eyes and lets out a long breath, his arms pulling her closer until her body is completely pressed up against his, letting out another content hum as he nuzzles her back.

"what're you so happy about so early in the morning?" he asks quietly, his hand reaching up to gently rub and stroke her eras, making her purr a bit louder, her tail wrapping around his waist to make sure they're as close as physically possible.

"i don't know" she mutters softly, pressing a few kisses to his cheeks then nuzzling his nose again. He hums again, looking down at at her for a few moments. She chuckles and cups his cheek. "what're you staring at my dear wanderer?" she chuckles, amused at how dazed he looks staring at her like that.

"I'm admiring my pretty partner, is that not allowed?" he mutters, closing his eyes and leaning down to rest his forehead against her collarbone, feeling the vibration of her purrs against his brows.

Her hand moves from his face to run through his hair, pulling him closer against her chest. "Of course it is" she says with a quiet chuckle, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.He melts in her hold, his whole body relaxing further against his as he lets out a sigh, nuzzling into her chest more and pressing a kiss between her collarbones.

"you're unusually clingy this morning, is there a special occasion today?" her hand tugs just the slightest bit on his hair, chuckling when he presses his face against her chest more. "Do I need an occasion to love you?" he grumbles, lifting his face to look at her.

"I guess not.." she smiles, her hand gently running through his hair as she buries her face in it. She shivers when she feels his hands sneaking their way under her shirt, softly caressing her sides "what're you doing?" she asks with a smirk, pulling away from his hair to look at him "my hands are cold, I'm just warming them up" he too pulls away to look at her, raising an eyebrow as a small smirk forms on his face "is there a problem with that love?"

She chuckles and leans down to capture his lips in a soft kiss "you're annoying.." she mutters against his lips before kissing him again.He melts into the kiss, pushing her onto her back gently to hover over her, pinning her to the bed without breaking the kiss.

"kuni-" she pulls away only for him to chase her lips again, not giving her a chance to catch her breath as his hand moved to the back of her neck, pulling her deeper into the kiss while her hands grip the back of his shirt.She squirms under him until she's able to flip them over, pinning him down and finally pulling away from the kiss "you little shit.." she breaths out, panting from how long he held her in the kiss.

He looked up at her with a smirk, completely unfazed by the long kiss like she was. "you might not need to breath, but I do.." she chuckles breathlessly, resting her head down on his chest as she catches her breath.

"breathing is overrated" shinua rolls her eyes at him, resting her face against his neck as he wrapped his arm around her waist. "I wanna hear you say that after I die due to the lack of air" she chuckles, yelping when he pinches her side. "don't joke about that.." he says sternly.

She huffs and presses a kiss to his throat, "you're the one who started it.." she mutters softly while rolling onto her side, pressing herself against his side with her arms hugging him closer "I'm sorry.." She mumbles softly, smiling when she feels his arms tighten around her.

#genshin impact #wanderer x reader #genshin #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer #genshin x reader #oc x canon #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x oc #Wanderer x oc #Kunikuzushi x oc #Saramouche #Kunikuzushi #Scaramouche fluff

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scarasbaby · 1 month

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In sickness and in health

Wanderer x gn!reader

synopsis | You never get sick. Or that's what Wanderer believed. And now that you caught yourself a high fever, he's beyond scared.

content | fluff, mild angst w/ comfort (just a little sprinkle of angst, nothing major)

cw | a few curses, abandonment issues, mentions of death

a/c | @/chinikuniku on X

taglist | @ayanasss , @m1stt1

a/n | My 250 follower special is finally out‼️ Thank you for reading and thank you for following my blog 🫶🏻

And thank you @cyberprimeyt for the lovely idea!

"OPEN YOUR MOUTH." Wanderer commanded you, not taking 'no' for an answer. And so you did, albeit reluctantly. Your throat felt dry and the temperature of the soup he fed you was awfully hot. It hurt to eat. But you know you needed to eat something.

You usually never got sick, you swore on that. Even Wanderer was a witness of your good health! But you just had a very important matter at hand, which made you run through the heavy rain at midnight. If you didn't catch a cold under those circumstances, you were actually indestructible. But alas, you are also just a human being.

Your whole body is aching and searing hot to the touch. An uncomfortable heat covered you entire body with sweat. This was due to the two thick blankets drapped over your body. But you knew that once you left the comforts of your blankets, you'd freeze to death. Is this the price you had to pay for all those years of good health?

"Snap out of it and eat up. You didn't eat anything the whole day." your boyfriend prodded you, the end of the spoon hitting your lips. A pout formed on those very lips as you closed your eyes. You would've shook your head in response, but your head was pounding and dizziness clouded your mind.

He sighed in response, putting placing the spoon back into the warm soup he had carefully prepared for you. "At least drink something." he said, handing you a glass of water. Then he got you medicine, pouring the liquid onto another spoon, before forcing it down your system in combination with the water. All with good intentions, of course.

Once you swallowed your medicine and sat upright for a good ten minutes to properly digest, Wanderer allowed you to lay back down. "Get some rest." he sighed, standing up and gathering the dishes to wash them later, "And call me if you need something. Don't even think about getting out of bed without my help." he had warned you, before exiting your room, leaving the door open to make sure he'd hear you if you called.

You just snuggled back into the blankets and sighed, closing your eyes to sleep it off. During that time, Wanderer took it upon himself to clean up around your apartment, doing the chores you couldn't do while he waited for you to wake up and hopefully get better soon.

He might've seemed unfazed while taking care of you, but in reality, he was scared and guilty. Scared that this fever will take you away from him. Guilty that you're suffering and he can't do anything to alleviate your pain. And he couldn't stop the pessimistic thoughts from clouding his judgment. It might be a silly thought, but he didn't want you to have the same fate as—

Wanderer snapped out of his thoughts when a glass fell to the ground and shattered on the floor. A sigh left his lips and he got to work to clean up the mess he made. He'll need to remind himself to get you a new one in the future.

Before long, your boyfriend decided to go outside and stock up your empty fridge and get you fresh medicine. You were running low anyways, 'might as well', he thought. And so he took off, taking your keys and closing the door securely after himself. You were sleeping and it'll probably take some time until you wake up again anyways.

Just how wrong he had been...

As soon as he came back from running your errands, he heard incessant coughing coming from your room. He immediately dropped the groceries on the ground, not caring if something spilled or broke. Your fever must be acting up again and he knew you needed someone to be by your side.

Once Wanderer entered your bedroomed in a hurry, you couldn't help but sigh out in relief. Your whole body was burning up, pain spreading through your limbs and your head felt like exploding. It hurts... but at least someone was here to help you now.

"Fuck, your fever is worsening..." Wanderer whispers, touching your forehead with the back of his hand. He needed to do something, anything to ensure your comfort, to ensure you're alright. He needed to go to Nahida or call a doctor and—

When he turned to go, you stopped him, your hand holding tightly onto his as heavy breaths left your parted lips. "Don't leave..." you mumble and he knew then that he couldn't possibly ignore your wishes. But also, he feared that if he doesn't get you help, you'd perish just like the little child five hundred years ago. For a first time in his life, he felt truly helpless.

It suddenly felt like time has rewinded itself back to five hundred years ago, back when he was just a mere puppet without a name, accompanying the child he viewed as his family. Back when he had watched the child cough and cry, complaining because of the pain, but assuring that he'd be alright. Back when he trusted the child with all of his being, only to come home to a lifeless body.

Seeing you in such a vulnerable and painful state made him anxious. Fear was crawling up his consciousness. He couldn't think of anything to help you, while you laid there, exhausted and your breathing irregular. Your eyes were looking up at him, a silent cry for comfort and a sign of pain.

When you saw him staring at you, his eyes unfocused, you knew he wasn't in the right state of mind to help you right now. The coughing didn't subside and it burned your throat as much as it burned his hollow chest to see you like this. You wanted so say something, seeing the panic in his eyes. To reassure him that everything's alright and that this will be over soon. If you could just say something.

Instead of words, you decided to act on your thoughts, pulling him down into an embrace. It didn't take long for him to wrap his arms around you as well, pulling you closer to him.

He was cold. A pleasant contrast to your burning temperatures. "Hey..." you mumble hoarsely, leaning your head onto his shoulder and closing your eyes. "Calm down, love." you continue to whisper, suppressing the oncoming coughs bubbling in your throat.

It only took four words to calm him down a bit more, his arms squeezing you to his own comfort. "Fuck." he exhales shakily into the crook of your neck. You were burning hot. And although it wasn't a good sign, he liked it. He always liked your warmth, it contrasted nicely to his freezing physic. "I'm acting pathetic right now." he mutters, trying to feel more of your addicting warmth against his skin.

"What's on your mind?" you asked him quietly, coughing just enough to make him pull you closer to him. "Just some... stupid thoughts." he mumbles in return. He didn't necessarily feel like talking about the cruel memories he had remembered. But he knew he couldn't hide anything from you. You knew him too well. So he decided to just be upfront with you. "You're reminding me of that sick child..."

"Your... 'family'?" you inquired, just to confirm. And after a short period of silence, you felt his head nodding against the curve of your neck. He had told you the story and you had witness the memories with him together, so you understood where his fear was coming from. Your lips parted to reassure him about yourself, when he cut you off.

"Please... please don't leave." he whispers shakily. You could feel the slightest trembles coming from his figure and you gently squeezed him in return. "I know you're human. And I know that eventually... you'll perish like all the other mortals... but please..." he pleaded to you, "don't fucking die on me just yet."

His figure trembled in your embrace as he poured his heart out to you, pleading as if you're his only god, as if you were his saviour. You wrapped your arms securely around his figure and pulled him down to lay in bed with you. "I'm not going anywhere." you reassure him in soft whispers, "I'll be there by your side as long as my time allows me to."

"Don't cry, my love." you continue, coughing in between your sentences. His body temperature was helping you in cooling down. Funny how you never thought of it before. "I'm not going to die to a silly fever." Sweet reassurances and soft whispers of love calmed him down as you two laid there in a shared embrace.

"Hey Kuni." you mumble sleepily after a long while. He hums quietly in response, not moving a muscle to look up at you. "If I die someday, I want to die seeing you smile at me one last time, okay? Only then can I tell the heavens above that I died happy death." you chuckle softly.

He squeezed you tighter in response, a tired sigh leaving his lips. "One more word about death and I'll feed you poison the next time."

MASTERLIST | INFO

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scarasbaby · 1 month

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❝ all that is ephemeral ❞

Scaramouche x gn! Reader

♤ Summary: Relaxing fluffy evening after your husband comes home from work.

♤ Warnings: Implication of death, immortal x mortal, arranged marriage (but happy !), fluffy Scaramouche :')

♤ A/N: You are the world just as much as you are a small grain of sand. Accept where you are mortal, embrace where you are immortal. Scaramouche will love you anywhere <3

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˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★

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"Darling, what is on your mind?"

Your tender voice cuts through the silence in the room where you sit alongside your husband. His eyelids slowly lift, tired as he seems, he is ethereal when the light from the window of the sunset outside lays itself bare across half his face in his dimly lit home. But as his lover, you do not see his serenity, all you see is the stress in the furrow of his brow.

He does not respond to your question, only brings his lips to meet your cheek, and then asks a question of his own.

"How do you not find boredom while sitting silently?" He whispers, resting his head on your shoulder. "So many I know can't stand still for a second."

Your answer comes more naturally than you expect.

"Your latent presence alone is contentment. Everything that needs to be said between the two of us floats through the room without a voice to accompany it."

Scaramouche stares up at you in admiration, his eyes half-lidded and his lips slightly parted.

"Don't you find life far too short to not speak your mind?" He asks.

You smile sadly.

"I actually find it excruciatingly long."

He smiles back.

"Time has passed so much swifter since I met you." He speaks. His smile falters slightly. "I feel as though life with you will pass in the blink of an eye."

"Is that what was on your mind?" You ask, digging your heels in quickly. It is so uncommon for Scaramouche to talk about his own thoughts and reflections with you.

"Sure... Amongst so many other little things." He whispers.

"Some big Tsaritsa-issued assignment tomorrow?" You question awkwardly.

You don't like the nature of his work. He knows this, so he rarely talks about it. You'd rather he talk about it than attempt to pretend it isn't happening around you.

Scaramouche sighs.

"I don't want to discuss work with you." He mutters. "Everything but you feels akin to work nowadays. I'd like to keep it all separated in my head."

You shake your head in disagreement.

"I'd love to take some worries off your shoulders." You say. "That's it."

He blinks up at you for a few quiet moments before sighing.

"I don't want to discuss anything." He clarifies. "Everything that needs to be said... Floats. Like you said."

You nod, quickly accepting the challenge.

The rest of the evening passes quietly, simply. After a while, you go on to prepare dinner with him. When you first got married, you'd usually shoo him away from the kitchen. Assuring him that you were more than happy to make him dinner, eventually, he admitted he just feels awkward watching you work alone, and you allowed for his extra set of hands.

Your entire engagement was not the most ideal. Your marriage had been arranged. Apparently, it was obvious to the cryo archon that Scaramouche did not have roots in Snezhnaya or attachment to his position. Marriage was her idea for him meant to keep him in place. You were just picked out from all the other noble families in Snezhnaya.

While it was something both of you resented at first, you now wonder that maybe as the goddess of love, The Tsaritsa knew what she was doing. The two of you did fall in love. You were certain you knew what to expect from a marriage with a harbinger, The Balladeer no less. You emotionally prepared yourself to live a life as a servant or a maid, rather than a spouse.

But when you moved in with him, you came to the realization so quickly that he wasn't loud, arrogant, or demanding. He was just quiet. Peaceful, even. Irritable, but respectful when met with confrontation. At first, it seemed as though he was just too tired from work to make his time at home a warzone as well, but affection was born of the inconvenience. He made a habit out of finding where you were in the house and preferred being nearby.

Aside from the servants who assist you in housekeeping, his mansion is empty. Silent rather than quiet. Barren. Anyone would become lonely.

Scaramouche was truly easy to understand. Your observations in his day-to-day life made the pieces fall into place. He wanted to love. He wanted to be loved. He was never sure where to look for it.

You are unsure how anyone could describe him as cruel as he quietly apologizes for merely grazing your side when you begin to set the dining table.

The two of you eat quietly, he practically scarfs his own food down, which humors you. He is always famished by the end of the day.

"Would you like mine as well?" You offer your portion of food to him without a second thought, he glares at you as if you just insulted him.

"Eat your food [Name]." He says in irritation. "Your day was no shorter than mine."

You hum in agreement.

When you finish eating your food, you're surprised to see Scaramouche waiting, staring at you eagerly when you look up to him. You smile.

"Yes...?"

You prompt him, though you know why he's looking at you like that. But, Scaramouche just isn't the kind of person to shamelessly admit that he so desperately looks forward to the conclusion of each day, when the two of you are curled up in each other's arms holding one another tightly in the warm comfort of a giant luxurious bed.

"Nothing." He lies.

And yet, when you go to wash the dishes from dinner, his arms are greedily wrapped around you, hugging you from behind with his face buried in your shoulder. You choose to not mock him about it, he is rather warm.

After you finish the dishes, he follows you into the bedroom where the two of you resign to your usual sides of the room to change into more sleep-appropriate clothing.

You turn towards the bed once you're changed, and realize Scaramouche has already buried himself under the covers, his face deep in the plush of the pillows, obviously exhausted.

You smile, and climb in beside him. He blindly holds out an arm to pat the area you've taken next to him, when his hand finds your cheek his thumb affectionately rubs across it.

"I... Missed you all day." He professes, his voice muffled from the silk covering his mouth.

You can't help but blush at his honey-coated tone. You don't respond but shuffle closer to him, causing him to turn on his side to face you.

He brushes your hair from your face and tucks it behind your ear.

"Will you... Always be here?" He asks quietly. "You won't... Leave or anything?"

"What a notion..." You say in a low voice. "Where did that come from?"

"I want you to say... That you won't leave." Scaramouche said, a slight blush dusting his cheeks to signify his embarrassment.

"I won't leave you, Kuzu." You say certainly, without hesitation. "Ever. Trust me."

His eyes trailed off as he got lost in thought.

"I want to take you... And all that is ephemeral... And keep it for myself. But I can't... All I can do is be in this moment where you are here." He speaks.

Your eyes widen.

"I am telling you I will not leave-"

"You are mortal, [Name]." He whispers shakily. "You can't keep your promise, no matter how badly either of us want you to."

You are confused, but Scaramouche pulls you to his chest before you can speak again.

"Love you... I love you." He kisses the top of your head sleepily. "Get some rest, my love."

"...Goodnight, Kuzu..."

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scarasbaby · 1 month

Note

Guess who😊

As a reference to what you posted earlier, imagine that after the reader dies of old age, Xiao and Scaramouche encounter a reincarnation of themselves? It's your choice to make them mortal or not (I'm under your bed. If you make them mortal I will kick your feet at night.)

Take your time dear <3

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG FJDKSLA;FJDSA; life has been kicking my ASS but fuck it we ball HELLO MY MUTUAL THANK YOU FOR YOUR REQUEST, I’ve honestly been thinking hard because I want to also request some ideas because your writing is so sweet ehehehe OK PLEASE DON’T KICK MY FEET AT NIGHT THAT’S HORRIFYING - I WILL MAKE THE REINCARNATION IMMORTAL

ALSO @iota1111 these are my ideas for that Xiao and Wanderer angst! If you read only to the *** in each fic, that would be where I’d end the story if it wasn’t meant to be a happy ending! (I would suffer!!!!)

[Fluff + Angst] [Xiao/Wanderer x Reader] Reincarnation

CONTENT

Angst to fluff, happy ending, reader death, mentions of death, mentions of fighting/them taking their anger out on things

XIAO

When you passed away, Xiao was absolutely heartbroken. He knew it was coming, he prepared for it, he stayed by your side through your deteriorating health in your last few months. But no matter what, he knew it would destroy him, and it did.

No one saw Xiao for weeks after but everyone noticed that Liyue was safer than ever. Xiao engrossed himself in his work. Taking out his emotions onto the monsters in Liyue. He worked himself to exhaustion every single day. Zhongli still came to check up on him but knew Xiao just needed time.

He didn’t know what to do with himself. What was he supposed to do? You were gone. HIs sunshine, his muse, his… everything.

Xiao collapsed after giving himself no rest for who knows how many nights. Laying in the grass, he stared up at the moon. Asking himself what he could’ve done differently and if he could’ve "selfishly" extended your life. If he could’ve made you immortal like him.

He listened to the bugs chirp around him, the breeze drying the tears he didn’t know were falling. For the first time in a long time, he cried. He sobbed and bit back the urge to lash out at everything in the vicinity. He was on his side, clutching his aching heart, crying into the soft grass he used to lay on with you.

He had gone through so much pain in his life: his karmic debt, the abuse from his old master, losing his found family, and all the years of deafening solitude.

But nothing would ever hurt more than losing you.

Xiao cried his heart out and knocked out from the exhaustion and pain. He slept peacefully for the first time since you passed. *** Xiao woke up the next morning with a start. Confused and disoriented not because of where he had fallen asleep, but because he sensed something insane.

He sensed you.

It was your soul, the one he swore himself to. There was no denying it. Was this a sick joke? Was some old evil spirit messing with him?

It had been months since your passing but there was no denying it. It was you.

Unfortunately, years would pass while Xiao searched for you. He was obsessed over it at first but once he could tell that your soul was safe and alive, he relaxed just a little. He still wanted to see you again, hold you, and whisper how much he loved you, but he knew you’d find each other eventually. He made himself a silent promise that he’d find you no matter what. He didn’t really have much else to do for all of eternity anyways.

Xiao confided in Zhongli through these years, the elder god revealing the possibility of reincarnation, revealing that it’s not uncommon. Souls return to the Earth in many forms but he hints to Xiao that he believes what he’s sensing is indeed you in human form.

Eventually, Xiao would be on a typical nightly patrol, sensing your soul nearby as always. But it was a bit different today. It was stronger.

As if right on cue, Xiao entered a clearing and despite it being nighttime, he saw the sun.

His beautiful sun had somehow risen again against all odds. You didn’t know his name but you knew his soul.

He recognized the sigil on your clothing, it belonged to an adeptus master he hadn’t seen in decades. The draconic horns on your head told him you were reborn in a different body, an immortal body. One that had you trained as an adepti for these past years, likely hidden away in a domain. It clicked in his head. It’s why he could always sense you, but never quite find where you were.

You turned around after feeling his approach. He wondered if you could feel his soul the way he felt yours. If you longed for him even in your new existence. He had so much to ask. But you pulled him out of his noisy thoughts.

Your voice brought him serenity he had long forgotten.

His heart pounded as you spoke.

“I missed you, my love.”

Instantly you were in each other's arms.

“I missed you too,” he says as his voice cracks.

WANDERER

He was angry, reverting back to how he was before Nahida, the traveler, and you helped him. He blamed the gods, the world, for his sorrows, for his pain. He sought to destroy it all again for somehow making his suffering worse. He had felt pain similar to this. It was all too familiar for him. The constant cycle of loss, betrayal, and agony. But this time, he was on the brink of insanity.

You, his perfect flower, had finally wilted.

He’s stuck bargaining for months, reverting between stages of grief: anger and bargaining. Never able to move on past that.

He continues on his missions for Nahida because he knows it’s what you've wanted but also because he didn’t know what else to do with himself. Any of his combat missions turned into tortures and near assassinations. He used it as a tool to cool himself off, much to the silent disapproval of Nahida. But she knew he’d never disobey your wishes, your morals. You taught him better than to kill out of emotion.

Wanderer commonly visits the forests where you two used to adventure to find some sort of peace and familiarity. He tends to avoid the Aranara despite the fact that they know about your passing and would probably be able to comfort him about it. He just didn’t think he could handle it.

Seasons pass and on one of his trips into the sunny lush forests, growing again due to the spring season, Aranara bring him your favourite flowers when they bloom again the next year. They loved you dearly too, you treated them and the forest with such gentleness that they could never forget you. They didn’t know how to approach him earlier so they used this opportunity instead.

His heart ached and his anemo vision surged with energy when he saw the flower. He finally reached his breaking point, he fell to his knees on the grass and sobbed, clutching the flower to his chest. Letting go of all the stupid anger and bargaining. Who was he kidding, he just didn’t want to accept that he’d have to keep going without you. *** The Aranara tell him not to worry though, comforting and telling him it will be okay. At first he’s confused as to what they mean but Nahida walks out into the sunlit clearing, the sun about to start setting.

She tells him she knows it hurts but that the Irminsul has a message for him and it says that he should not fret and continue to live on and explore the forest. His tear stained face raised an eyebrow but it slowly turned to determination, he knew Irminsul would not lie.

It would take years but he slowly started to feel you nearby. He’d dream of you. The forest felt like you and he could feel your energy in the flora. He confided in Nahida and their bond only grew stronger, he’d also reach out to the Aranara when he’d adventure out of the city.

Eventually, the Aranara prepared and held a ceremony, sensing the birthing of something new, a nature spirit. Nahida described it using the term “nymph.”

Wanderer was silent as he put the pieces together. He held his breath as he realized it might be you. Your reincarnation.

He always saw you as his flower, but he didn’t think you’d become a nature spirit, he was not complaining about it in the slightest though.

Nahida explained that you would exist in the physical realm but had strong ties to the dream realm, you’d be immortal like Aranara are but you’d still be able to live with him in the physical.

As you manifested and blinked open your eyes, you immediately looked at him.

His hands were shaking, unsure if he was scared, happy, both? Was it really you? Had the world finally decided to grant him happiness instead of sorrow? Was this a gift?

But as you took gentle steps towards him, he realized something important:

It didn’t matter.

You were here again, in front of him. Nothing else mattered.

You reached out to hold his face with your hands. You knew him, you knew your soul belonged to him and his to you.

He drew in closer to you, holding your face and touching your foreheads together, tears threatening to fall.

Your beautiful voice spoke to him again in what felt like an eternity. He had almost forgotten what you sounded like.

“Don’t cry my love, I’m here.”

His eyebrows scrunched as his tears fell. He wraps his arms around you tight, never wanting to let go, scared you’d leave him again.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered shakily, scared that his voice would fail if he tried to speak.

“I missed you too. I’m here to stay.”

Thank you for reading!

|| MASTERLIST<3 ||

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