#kabukimono fanfic

[solitary-traveler]

Stars Around My Scars

The scars on your wrists stood out to him though and he usually expresses great displeasure towards it.  “I don't like them” he frowns, “They reek of desperation”

Kabukimono x Gn!Reader

Notes: Hiii, so um let me clear a couple things first. I'm not able to post the second part for ascent to oblivion since I'm busy and exams are coming up. I promise I'll upload it as soon as possible. Take this simple gift for now. And yes this is a repost. Anyway, I just merged them together. That was a shitty decision honestly. Seriously, me and my impatient ass yesterday-

Art: @OogyPng (X)

Warning: mentions of self harm, i swear there's fluff-

The beauty of mortal life comes with its finite period of existence, that fleeting period before dissipating in the blink of an eye. 

Much akin to that of a firework display.

They explode, bragging their scintillating colors that douse the sun in jealousy. With an ear-piercing blast, it blankets the night sky, fluorescing like the moon as it gleams like the stars above.

If life was momentary for a puny human, why not make use of it?

Why not become a wanderer and travel the world?

You get to region hop and satiate your wanderlust. To encounter unfamiliar faces and attach their names to your expanding friends’ list. To pick up tidbits about riveting stories recounted by elders and children alike. The possibilities are unending, a spectacle waiting to be unboxed.

Yet there’s always the impending menace of falling victim to the grappling claws of solitude.

You’ve been plunged into that headspace a few times already. Despite your protests, the glister of joy and love you’ve gotten from simple things flickered faintly, the bleakness settling in. Your surroundings felt barren, as the dismal winds swept away every inch of ecstasy from within you. Your godforsaken history comes back to taunt you, a reminder of your internal demons who’s having a field day tormenting you.

“You’re so fucking petty it’s almost hilarious. So undeserving. Why are you still here? You’re not worth anything. And you’ll never be.”

“An accident? That’s a bullshit excuse.Without you, the accident wouldn’t occur. It’s all your fault. Everything is.”

“Everyone hates you. Why can’t you get that right? Everyone you talk to finds a fault in you that they don’t dare say to your face. But they know. They can’t help but judge you. Of course they would wouldn’t they? You’re a weirdo”

“A disgrace.”

“A worthless piece of shit.”

The thoughts bounce within your mind, endlessly toying with your emotional state.

You emit a burst of bitter laughter.

It‘s cold.

The temperature was rather freezing despite the incandescence the sun was offering. You can barely feel it radiate through your skin, as a pang smashes through your heart.

You don’t want to be cold.

Your gaze shifts to your sword resting on the patch of grass beside you.

Another benefit of wandering. No one would suspect that your scars are self-inflicted.

As far as you’re concerned, It’s only natural for wanderers to acquire marks that resemble cuts and bruises on their bodies. Incessantly faced with the turmoil of threats and hazards, scars are assumed to serve as tokens of the risk they have confronted on their previous journeys. 

Besides, it’s not like you wanted to do it. It just felt right. Like the self imposed wounds on your wrists belonged there. It felt as if the blade slicing your hand like paper was supposed to do it. That watching the red liquid flow out of it was because you deserved it.

At least you’re not cold anymore. Who knew blood could be so warm?

—-------------------------

The distant display of lights crackle against the tranquil night.

You flash a mixture of colors, expressing the turmoil of what you refer to as your emotions. Yet the speck of your allure was gradually dwindling. 

It wouldn’t take long before you vanish.

Like a pretty firework.

But what use is a pretty firework when it waves and dances all alone with the stars, concealed far from anyone's vision? 

What use is a pretty firework when they're just meant to blink momentarily and dissolve?

You got your answer when you met an eccentric puppet during one of your travels. Sweet, little Kabukimono found your dying spark and rekindled it with his saccharine smiles and candied words. 

You grasped the concept of how fireworks are meant to shine for others to see, for at least one person to view and relish. For them to admire. And for them to love.

And Kabukimono loved you.

There’s no denying that. 

Your traveling companion cherished you, always doting you with his presence. He would never leave your side unaccounted for and often offers you praises that you find doubtful.

“You’re so cool Y/N! You’re so efficient in fighting! Can you teach me??”

“I didn’t mean to stare! You just… looked pretty from here…”

“I just wanted to spend time with you! …Is that so bad?”

Much to your skepticism, you find yourself hesitating to swallow his words. They felt like lies, sugar coated phrases meant to lure you into a trap of false hope. False sense of security. I mean, who would find you this interesting? Who would want to be by your side? Who would want to constantly seek you out because they enjoyed your presence? Because they enjoy being with you?

Lies. 

Every honeyed statement that rolls out of his tongue are nothing but lies.

He was going to leave you. Sooner or later.

But for whatever reason, the puppet stayed. He would not tire from his sickening performance of pretending to care for you. He should visit the theater sometimes, given how top tier his acting skills are. He claims with a two faced, innocent grin that the place beside you was his, and only his for as long as you were together. He says he wants to know about you—to study and learn what makes you… you—all the while those deceitful puppy eyes stare at you whenever you recount tales from your journey.

You’re stubborn self refuses to acknowledge the fact that he’s showing you genuine affection. Authentic fondness.

Maybe… it’s not an act? 

You were perplexed. You aren’t sure how to navigate through the solution of this problem, considering how you have no experiences regarding this matter. You aren’t aware of what to do, of what to say. It was frightening really, venturing into uncharted territories. 

So you do nothing.

And Kabukimono remains by your side.

The puppet was nosey when it came to you. One time, he caught a glimpse of your scars when you attempted to snatch a fish for dinner, only to result in you falling into the water. You sure had plenty of them. He sighs, wondering how much they must’ve hurt. Poor you.

In all honesty, he pities you. You carry an aura of despair, a chilling sensation that never seems to go away. It was attached to you in a way, like a melancholic burden that lays upon your shoulders. A suffering the puppet doesn’t want you going through. 

He would often ask about the origin of your scars. You were quite reluctant at first, but his persistence was soon rewarded by one of your wondrous tales. He cherishes your stories. It was always enchanting to hear about different regions that he can not visit. 

The scars on your wrists stood out to him though and he usually expresses great displeasure towards it. 

“I don't like them” he frowns, “They reek of desperation”

In the young Kabuki’s mind, he notices that they don’t match the other marks on the surface of your skin. They were messy and painful to look at, like a blend of misery and torment was doused over that certain area. A mixture that can’t be dried, that can’t be removed.

He detested seeing you drowning in your sorrows.

An idea invaded his thoughts. He picks up a bright yellow marker from your bag and gently clutches your arm. He pops open the cap and uses your hand as a canvas, doodling little stars around your scars. This warrants an eyebrow raise from you, a look he just dismisses. 

“What are you doing?”

He flashes you a grin—one of the many precious expressions he loves to show off to you—as he huffs proudly, “I'm drawing stars!”

You were baffled. “...Why?”

“So that these little guys can protect you! That way, no more painful scars when I'm not around!”

When I'm not around.

A tiny smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

You were feeling a bit cold today. 

But Kabukimono seemed to have warmed you up in his own way.

For a moment, your inner demons  and insecurities were thrown behind a wall, padlocked there while Kabuki held the key. The world stilled, no movement dared to interrupt the serene moment between two wanderers who found solace in the presence of each other. 

Your gaze never left the indigo haired puppet as he continues to work on the stars. He was focused on it like it was some masterpiece he was dying to show to the world.

…Seriously, he's such a silly guy.

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ How they dream of you at night

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Tartaglia

(tw: just slightly sad)

✧ “In the hidden corners where the gods' gaze does not fall, there are those who dream of dreaming” - and one said person, Pierro, can be found within the grand Palace of Snezhnaya. He solemnly sits by the window, his icy blue eyes gazing off into the dark winter night of this snowy land.

He often does that, when the night becomes silent and the world is still. Pierro wishes he could dream, yet 500 years of cursed immortality can corrode one’s mind into feeble numbness. Thus, the Fatui Director substitutes his dreamless nights with daydreams of you. Silent fantasies of your voice, images of cupping your jawline, a tender caress to your form. The jester’s daydreams are the only thing keeping him sane, preserving the memory of your skin and love alive in his mind. 

And even if his nights are bleak and dreamless, he would rather settle for maladaptive daydreams. When the Jester gazes at the fake stars of Teyvat, hanging by the firmament as a lifeline, so does he yearn to daydream of you - living in the day just for the memory of your embrace. Alas, only the harsh nights of Snezhnaya are witness to his wistful gazes. 

✧ For Il Capitano, the world is full of battles and wars; conflicts initiated by the ignorant ones, those who care naught for the innocent. Therefore, the only moment of solace that the Captain can afford is in his dreams. Dreams in which his vision is not haunted by the bloodshed of battlefields, but instead by simple dreams of you. 

In those dreams, the world is plain and quiet. He often sees you in it, occupying his thoughts. Sometimes you’d talk and ramble nonchalantly, occasionally he’d see you collecting small chamomile flowers by the grass. Those dreams are uneventful, yet for the Captain, such peacefulness is a luxury he cannot afford. An image of you and him by a quiet valley, a gentle breeze idling by, and having all the time to relish each other’s endless conversations. No thoughts of warfare, only the unwinding sound of your voice.

The Captain is not ashamed to admit he dreamt of you. In fact, he’d candidly say it during the most random of times - “I saw you in my dreams again.”

You’d glance at him and muse - “Oooh, really? Maybe you just miss my company!”

The Harbinger's mask remains pitch black, devout of any expression that might tell whether he reciprocates your little teasing. But besides the occasional clank of chains from his helmet, a low chuckle will escape him. Therefore, The Captain would lean to sit closer to you, his body less tense whenever he is in your presence. Even your silence is a remedy to his soul.

“Perhaps I do. Perhaps I really do.” 

✧ Il Dottore hates dreaming. Sleep, in its entirety, is a redundant form of rest that the human body requires. An utter waste of time. Thus, as a scientist who modified his own body to perfection, it’s unsurprising that he can go on for days without sleep. The Doctor can be efficient with his time, although that’s not why he semi-biologically modified his body. It’s because he hates dreaming of you. 

You are always there in his dreams, along with his younger self. The nostalgic warm sunlight of Sumeru basks onto you, and in those dreams, he sees you in the familiar hallways of the Akademiya. Dottore does not consider those dreams pleasant, since they make him uneasy of the grave past. He doesn’t like seeing himself so simple and young, in his Akademiya uniform. He doesn’t enjoy seeing your tender smile as you clutch your books closer to your chest and lock your gaze with him. He doesn’t like how his dream self always yearns to come closer and embrace you tight. As if young Zandik could’ve held you one more time, and all his troubles would dissipate by the warm sun.

Yet no matter the place or outcome of the peaceful dream, every time that young Zandik tries to reach for your face or seek your lips, you’re always an arm-length away. The hallways of the Akademiya loom threateningly, pulling you further away from him, your warmth becoming unreachable. How naive. He should be better than this. Now he sits up in bed, awake and hands clenched around his hair with trepidation. He hates how his body wants to cry for the memory of you in his dreams. He really hates dreaming.

✧ The fact that Scaramouche even possesses the faculties to dream is what made him the individual he is today. Whether he curses his ability to do so or not, it doesn’t matter. He is no longer the naive Kabukimono he once was, in fact, he doesn’t even require to mimic sleep as humans do. But only you know the truth. During still nights, when the two of you doze off under the warm futons, the Balladeer’s hand would unconsciously grip yours, then followed by silent sobs.   

In his dreams, he sees many events unfold. Sometimes, he sees himself left to live in the squalor like a common critter, discarded and abandoned. Sometimes, he sees the familiar Tataratsuna huts. But more often, he sees you there in his dreams. Back in the warm plains of Yashiori Island, you let him rest his head on your lap. You are dressed in a snug kimono that the fabric's comfort etches onto Scaramouche’s memories eternally. In his dreams, he rests idly in your embrace, by your lap, while you caress his hair. 

Those dreams are delightful at first as if his memories as Kabukimono reinvoke themselves and immortalize the softness of your body and the soothing motion of your hands in his subconscious. But quickly, those dreams shift into agonies. Sometimes, in those dreams, you turn and desert him, while he is left on his dirtied knees to plead for your return. Sometimes, those nightmares show him that it is your heart that can ebb the Tatarigami within Mikage Furnace. And just before he's forced to rip your beating core and relive another memory, he awakes.

“Scara?! Scara…?” - you whispered in the dimness of the night, shaking him awake. “You were crying in your sleep. Another nightmare?”

The Puppeteer said nothing. He lay awake, startled as tears involuntarily streamed down his cheeks. With twitching eyes, he quickly clings around your waist, burying his face against you to conceal his tears. No words needed to be exchanged as his body shook, while you hushed and hugged him. This was the reason why Scaramouche avoided dozing off into sleep ever again.

Regardless of the content of his nightmares, he’d never admit you caressed his hair and soothed him the same way you did in his dreams. 

✧ Pantalone is in bed, restless. Turning from side to side, or readjusting his pillows becomes a futile endeavor to find solace when his bed is lacking you. You are out there, on an expedition, busy exploring Teyvat. Your trip might take another few days, yet Pantalone is alone in a bed that often nestled you close together. Where do your feet take you, the Harbinger ponders to himself. Hence, while you are away, the Regrator is forced to make amends with the bedroom that feels considerably empty, considerably cold, considerably foreign - all because it's missing you. 

In the late, voiceless hours of the night, his dreams blend with his yearning for you. He misses pressing your entire form against his lean body, as it often allows him to fall asleep easily. With you in his arms, chest pressed to another, he knows - you are safe. You are with him. Unfortunately, you are away, and the night feels unwelcoming. For now, Pantalone has to clutch a pillow in his sleep to substitute his feeling of holding you. Even as he sleeps with worry, he hopes somewhere out there, in a foreign land, you are dreaming of him the same way he’s dreaming of you. 

✧ When Tartaglia drifts off into dreamland, his mind is still half-busy with thoughts of you. So much so that his plans blend into his dreams. Thoughts about what he should buy you while he’s away on a mission. Ideas on where to purchase your favorite local specialties. Or perhaps how he should surprise you when he comes back home.

His brain is so enthusiastically occupied with plans to bring you souvenirs, that his dreams come up with countless scenarios of how you’d greet him upon arrival. He’d envision your joyous surprise, endearing pouts, or teasing smiles. And sometimes, if his dreams are more daring, Childe might accidentally dream of some sweet rewards that will leave him waking up in a cold sweat, panting, and body craving. 

Either way, he is rushing back to you the moment his mission is over. His dreams of you might leave him hot and bothered, but your love in real life is much more tantalizing than anything his desperate dreams could conjure up. 

[fatuismooches]

a lesson in forgiveness.

The puppet’s plan to save you by deleting himself from the world did not work. You were dead and would remain dead for all of eternity. You were never to be given a second chance, yet he received one, now going by the name Wanderer.

Wanderer had begun to heal, very, very slowly from not only your death but his own past life with the help of the Dendro Archon, but there was not a day where Wanderer didn’t think of you. Sometimes for a little while, sometimes for a long time. Though Wanderer had always kept your gift close to him. The comb you had given him had endured throughout time, not without challenges though. You had given it to him as a good luck charm before he set off on that fateful day. Some of the teeth had been chipped or even broken off. Wanderer always treated it with the utmost care, but time is everything’s greatest enemy, even to immortals.

More recently, Wanderer had decided to create a small doll of you. It was necessary for him, it was a way to cope and come to terms with your death. He remembers centuries ago, you said you had always wanted to see the world. To leave the little village you called home and see Teyvat for yourself. It’s not the same, but perhaps this could be some sort of atonement for letting you die. You’ll be able to see the beautiful sights that he sees with him. Maybe that would make you happy, wherever you were. He would not tell anyone how much time he put into it, for it was an embarrassingly long time. Every stitch and every detail was planned carefully, even making multiple pairs of clothing for you. He didn’t often use them though, but perhaps it was a way to keep his mind off other things. 

Nowadays, Lesser Lord Kusanali had begun to assign him to some bothersome tasks, which he reluctantly carried out. Though, it was mostly a front. He didn’t mind as much as he grunted and scoffed about it. And, Wanderer knows without a doubt that you would adore Nahida. So, he really didn’t mind being the Archons’s shadow. Ah, and the Aranara too, you would absolutely fawn over them. If he was Kabukimono, he would too.

But right now he was taking a break at his usual local cafe. This had become a sort of routine for Wanderer. It was nothing out of the ordinary now. Plus, the coffee here was not bad. The puppet was enjoying his solitude, away from the noise of others when a voice broke his tranquility.

“Hello, is this seat taken?” Wanderer's eyebrow twitched at the disturbance. Couldn’t this person read the room? He thought it would be quite obvious that he preferred to be left alone. He cracked an eyebrow open to retort the person but the sight of them made every part of his body freeze up, and the words died in his throat. This couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. If he were holding his cup of coffee, he would have dropped it.

For you were standing in front of him again. 

There were not many times Wanderer has been left speechless, for he always has some kind of response to everything, but not this time. What could he say, when confronted with the love of his life after over four hundred years of their death?

“Hello?” You tilted your head, beckoning for a reply. A nervous but genuine smile eased its way onto your lips. “Would you mind if I sat here with you?” Wanderer forced himself to regain his composure.

“…Do what you want.” That came out harsher than the puppet wanted it to, but his stern way of speaking had long been the norm for him. 

“Okay, thanks,” you smiled once again, tension in your shoulders leaving as you pulled out the chair. That smile of yours. That smile was all too familiar. Every part of his body was debating the possibility of this being you. Oh, how he longed for it to be you, but he couldn’t be sure that this was you. It must be just an uncanny resemblance to the you from centuries ago. Because you, [Name], were dead, and you were never coming back.

You began to search through your bag, looking for something. He got a peak of the contents, and there lay some Lavender Melon wrapped up to savor later for a snack. He gritted his teeth at the similarities before deciding to study you more. Your clothes had traditional aspects of Inazuma but also incorporated some styles from Sumeru. Perhaps you were on a trip? His question wasn’t left unanswered for long.

“You know, this is my first day in Sumeru. It’s so much bigger and livelier than I thought,” you hummed happily. “So I thought, the first thing I should do was try some of the local food! I heard it’s quite delicious,” you grinned again finding the Mora pouch in your bag. Then a look of realization appeared on your face. “Oh! How silly of me, rambling to a complete stranger. I’m [Name], by the way.” 

[Name].

[Name].

[Name].

[Name]. The name that had haunted and lingered with him for so long, had come back to the present day. Wanderer’s breath hitched as he could not help but feel a wave of emotions at the reality of the situation. You were back. You were alive again, happy and smiling, looking as if nothing had changed at all. Granted, there were still a few small differences from your past self, but it was wholly and authentically you. [Name]. There was no denying it, and he found himself boring his eyes into your figure. You were still so pretty, so attractive, your beauty not changing throughout time. The way you furrowed your eyebrows as you read through the menu, licking your lips in anticipation of digging into some yummy cuisine.

Wanderer wonders if you still like to cook, the same way the old you loved to. He wonders if you’ll recognize the techniques the old you taught him, how to cut and peel vegetables. Wanderer does it with ease now, no longer cutting his fingers clumsily as Kabukimono did. He wonders if you’d like his own cooking. Much of his knowledge of cooking came from you. He wants to see your face light up in excitement as you relish and praise him for how good he’s gotten without you. If he cooked you the same foods you ate together from those days, how would you react? If he showed you the comb, would you remember? If you remembered, would you forgive him for how he let you die all those years ago? Wanderer’s mind was overloaded with questions. 

He had gone through unspeakable things, but he was extremely strong now, at least stronger than Kabukimono. Wanderer thinks you’ll never be hurt ever again, not by any Treasure Hoarders, Fatui, Kairagi, Nobushi, Hilichurls, or whatever other monsters Teyvat has to offer. No, so long as he watched over you from afar, you would never be injured. But, he questions himself, does he truly deserve this opportunity? No, the better question was, do you deserve to have to deal with him, with him being the person he is now? You looked perfectly fine without him, oblivious to the way he had been suffering for so long after your death. Oblivious to the sins that coated his hands. At the very least, you didn’t meet him while he was Scaramouche. He probably would not have been a good lover to you back then. Your voice interrupted his thoughts. 

“This is my first time trying Sumeru’s coffee. Is it good?” His chest panged once again at how similar your words were spoken now as compared to a few hundred years ago. Wanderer remembers the exact moment, in the bath when you spoke about trying Sumeru’s coffee with him, as if it was yesterday…

“It’s alright,” Wanderer kept his tone neutral despite his thoughts.

“Oh really? Is it bitter or sweet?”

“Neither, it is a good balance. But… I always ask for mine to be extra bitter,” Wanderer admitted to you. Normally, he would never have even entertained a conversation with a stranger, but in a way, you were not a stranger to him.

“Extra bitter, huh? And that doesn’t bother you? Interesting,” you smiled, gaining interest in the conversation as you leaned in closer to him. “I don’t think I could ever handle that!” Wanderer knew that already. In Tatarasuna, you could never stomach the taste of such bitterness. Another look of realization crossed your face as you giggled to yourself.

“It just hit me, I introduced myself but I never asked you. What’s your name?” You smiled once again beautifully, Sumeru’s sun illuminating your features. Wanderer etched your expression forever into his mind before he spoke.

“Just call me… Hat Guy,” Wanderer did not know why he chose to say that name out of all, and he had to stop himself from cringing at himself.

“H-Hat Guy…?” You repeated. You were dead silent for a few seconds before you erupted in laughter, which sounded oh-so-familiar to him, and made his ‘heart’ sing. Your hand flew to your mouth in an attempt to muffle your giggles. “Ah- ahahaha! I didn’t take you for a guy who likes to joke!”

Wanderer didn’t know how things would go from here, but as the wind carried your laugh away, he felt truly at peace after a very, very long time.

lesson 1. lesson 2. lesson 3. lesson 4. lesson 5. lesson 6. lesson 7. lesson 8. lesson 9. lesson 10. bonus lesson.

[dizzyjaden]

❝ 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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"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..."

[awkuni]

༻⋆ 。𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝔂’𝓼 𝓸𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮, 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰. ♱

KINKTOBER ‘24 : © awkuni.

ೀ — hi hi ! so i eventually decided to take the commitment n’ participate in kinktober ! this whole masterlist ws made up in like a couple hrs . . so i apologise ‘f it’s messyノunorganised. ‘ve never done sumthing like this before so pls spare me a lil’ bit ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა ,,, other than that i hope u enjoy !

note. sometimes, works may be a couple days late, but i’ll try n’ get them out as soon as i canノ later on in the respective week ! this masterlist will be periodically updated as i write the fics — warnings are stc !

𓉸ྀི — sixth of october. ࣪ ִֶָ་༘࿐

⤷ 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓫𝓸𝓭𝔂’𝓼 𝔀𝓪𝓽𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓶𝓮 ? !

stalker!kabukimono x fem!readerノnsfw — mdni. elements of stalking. somnophilia. grinding.

𓉸ྀི — thirteenth of october. ࣪ ִֶָ་༘࿐

⤷ 𝓹𝓼𝔂𝓬𝓱𝓸 𝓴𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓻, 𝓺𝓾’𝓮𝓼𝓽-𝓬𝓮 𝓺𝓾𝓮 𝓬’𝓮𝓼𝓽 ?

yandere!scaramouche x fem!readerノnsfw — mdni. referenced murder. knife play. choking. dacryphilia. overstimulation. edging.

𓉸ྀི — twentieth of october. ࣪ ִֶָ་༘࿐

⤷ 𝓲𝓽’𝓼 𝓲𝓷𝓷𝓸𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓽, 𝓲𝓷𝓷𝓸𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓽 .

experienced!wanderer x fem!readerノnsfw — mdni. loss of virginity ( reader ). unprotected sex. clit play.

𓉸ྀི — twenty-seventh of october. ࣪ ִֶָ་༘࿐

⤷ 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓫𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓶𝓮, 𝓶𝓻. 𝓿𝓪𝓶𝓹𝓲𝓻𝓮 !

vampire!kuronushi x fem!readerノnsfw — mdni. biting. blood-sucking. unprotected sex. creampie. semi-public sex ( in an alley).

𓉸ྀི — halloween. ࣪ ִֶָ་༘࿐

⤷ 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭𝔂 𝓲𝓼 𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓲 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓲𝓽, 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓪𝓷 𝓮𝔁𝓽𝓻𝓪 𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓮 .

kabukimono, scaramouche, wanderer, kuronushi x fem!readerノnsfw — mdni. marking. biting. make-up sex. overstimulation. cunnilingus. squirting. mating press. unprotected sex. creampie. hair pulling. doggy. fingering. edging.

[maehemthemisfit]

Thinking about sleeping beside kunikuzushi for the first time. He watches you so intently as you make your bed, hugging the pillow you gave him tightly to his chest.

kunikuzushi who stands there as you get settled onto the bed, not bothering to move until you look over and pat the spot beside you, ushering him to sit.

kunikuzushi who put on the change of comfortable clothes you gave him but doesn't take off the gift tethered around his neck as he idly caressed his finger over the iridescent feather.

kunikuzushi who's so delighted when you allow him to blow out all the candles, the flames twinkling in his night colored eyes.

kunikuzushi who continues to sit up while you lay down, content on watching whatever you're doing even after you closed your eyes

kunikuzushi who jumps at the sound of your voice when you catch him staring and ask him why isn't he going to sleep.

kunikuzushi who... is afraid of falling asleep, fearing that something bad would happen. What if he cries and you find him pathetic and useless? What if he opens his eyes to find you've abandon him? What if—

kunikuzushi who freezes when you cup his neck, running your thumb over the curve of his chin as your sleepy eyes gazed up at him. He blinks away the mist in his eyes, swallowing the fears so deeply sown into his chest as he nods.

kunikuzushi who slowly grabs your hand, weaving his fingers with yours as he lays on his side facing you.

kunikuzushi who waits until you're completely asleep so he can curl up against you, his lashes fluttering down as he recounts the wonderful day he had with you.

kunikuzushi who finally falls asleep, knowing you'll be there in the morning. Unconsciously, his mouth quirks into a content smile, his mind wondering off to the thought of cooking you breakfast, to prove how useful he is and as a thank you for staying with him so long.

[kunikukitty]

☆ Always An Artist, Never The Muse

Scaramouche/Wanderer x Fem!reader

ix. beauty of art

Since when did it started?

You've always been complimented to be a beauty, always been given praises, and you too are confident when it comes to your appearance.

Not to mention, you are also surrounded by good-looking girls such as Mona, Hutao, and Faruzan.

When did it started, when you began to question your own vision and the mirror? Since when were you became so sensitive about your appearance?

Being an artist who desired to be a muse was your ultimate struggle before. And perhaps, even until today.

You never made a portrait of yourself, having more interest in other scenery you see — and never did you became anyone's art inspiration.

To the non-artists, this might not be a thought worth being sad about. You too, you tell yourself it isn't a big deal, yet it persists. There is an ache, a longing to be admired just as how much you used to admire those whom you painted.

You used to be saddened over the fact that no artist chose you— maybe because you are an artist yourself?

However, even after your candle of passion became unlit— even after the spark that used to shine so brightly began to lose its light, you didn't became anyone's object of admiration.

"Don't worry, I'll keep you company."

You heaved a sigh as you heard Capitano utter those words in a reassuring manner, resting your head to the backrest of the bus seat you're sitting on.

He must've sensed your nervousness, also with the fact that he knows what you've been through.

That's the reason why you rejected those other fine art students anyway, since you didn't want to be just become a muse because you're a part of the options.

They were tasked to ask exchange students to be their model for their project. None of them would ask you if you weren't one, and you hated that. Could it be your pride as an artist hovering over your mind, that you wished to be somebody's muse because they specifically chose you and not just because you happened to be there as an option?

And now you were asked again yet for the same situation— you weren't the first choice.

Is this petty? You honestly don't care.

How silly these emotions of yours, hindering you from enjoying being a muse for the first time.

The bus stopped and the two of you exits the ride. You walked with Capitano as he led the way, coming to a halt some minutes later in front of a black gate. He looked at you before hitting the doorbell.

You brought a hand to caress your own face. Your skin isn't exactly clear, though you do not have many blemishes either.

You've always been confident of your appearance, and you didn't know why. Is it because you truly are indeed beautiful, or where you just blinded because of the praises you've heard?

Yet whenever you look in the mirror, you can't help but to see your image turning uglier each second. Is what you see in the mirror what you actually looked like?

You breathed in and out, wanting to mask the nervousness you're feeling. Faruzan is pretty, would the artist be disappointed upon seeing a face inferior to hers—

Forget about that, because you are the one disappointed right now...!

You regretted getting swayed with Faruzan's words. You even asked Mona for an advice to strengthen your decision, and she also said some motivating words similar to Faruzan.

What a load of bullshit, you shouldn't had listened!

Because it's fine, yes, it would be fine.

This trip could've turn out good just as your friends say— if not for the man standing before you! This... is he the artist?

The moment he opened the gate, you glared at him from head to toe, in which he responded with a roll of his eyes, turning his attention to Capitano instead.

The same shade of indigo that ruined your mood at the time you first entered the university, the blind-hater man!

Honestly, you could brush that off as just bad day for both of you which led to a stupid argument, but the bad impression lasted!

Whenever you see him around the campus, there's just this underlying vibes around him that ruins your mood. So even if you both ain't having a conversation, it's as if you are being brought back to that argument and you can't help but to feel the annoyance all over again.

And therefore strengthening the bad impression.

You followed after them as they entered his... kind of a huge house.

Of course, of course. Students at that goddamn university are rich, it's no wonder.

You eyed the interior, a minimalist design yet it looks extravagant due to the high-end materials. High ceilings, big chandeliers— his living room is grand and sophisticated space. The walls are in neutral colors, decorated with many paintings...

Oh.

Are these his works? They are... beautiful.

Not just beautiful, but breathtakingly beautiful.

Every pieces are paintings of abstracts and places, and there are no single painting of an image of a human.

The scenery looks realistic though, are portraits just not his forte? Or maybe he just didn't displayed them.

You got too absorbed at staring at them that Capitano had to tug you forward. His gentle hold brought you out of your reverie, continuing to follow after his friend.

"What even is his name?" You asked in a whisper.

"Oh right, you didn't get to be introduced properly." He nodded at himself, "Scaramouche is his name," then he called his friend's attention, "And she is [Name]."

...That turned awkward, just for you maybe. 'Scaramouche' just nodded his head and so did you.

When he opened another door, you almost drooled at the sight. Because why wouldn't you— it is his very own art studio inside his home! It's huge and definitely pleasing to look at. There are many paintings on the floor and some are hanging over the wall, all of the pieces are masterpiece! There are an unfinished sculpture of a head on one of the tables, charcoal drawings on paper, sketches of anatomy, movable wooden figure, and more.

Despite not liking him, you hold a respect to every artists. Not to mention, one look at his studio and you could tell he is talented...

You had to contain your excitement.

It's not like you're hiding that you are an (ex) artist, but you also do not want to show hints or tell that you are one, especially that you have nothing to show.

You would rather keep it that way, people not having an answer whether you are or not an artist— except for those who already know, of course.

"Pardon me, [Name]." You looked over to Capitano who has an apologetic expression on his face. "There happen to be an emergency, I'll leave you to Scaramouche's care."

You just nodded, Capitano had always been a busy man. You watched as he converse with the said man before he gave you a small wave, walking away.

"Stay here."

'Scaramouche' said, and you were left alone in his very own art studio.

You sat down on a stool, probably the seat he prepared for Faruzan. With a frown, you looked around.

Your heart raced as your eyes met your own pair of eyes, the full length mirror in front of you glinted in an ugly way.

You felt frozen in time. Is it because you would be exposed to an artist's eyes who would look at every detail of your appearance so he could draw it, the reason why you felt so bare in your own vision?

It was as if suddenly, you appear naked in front of everyone— drowning in their uncomfortable stares that ran through your insides.Your skin is getting ripped the more you stare at your own reflection, and you feel so exposed to the point that every nook of your face became visible in your eyes.

Since when this started, really? Where you no longer feel beautiful at every angle, as if your features are becoming distorted.

Ah, right. The people who compliments you are non-artists. You used to be one and yet you never drew yourself, and now you feel so imperfect and full of flaws. Maybe because you're aware of the truth.

Maybe this is why you've only became a muse now of an artist who had no choice but to draw you— you are indeed pretty, just not pretty enough that people wants to keep looking at you.

An art is supposed to be beautiful in every way, a masterpiece people enjoy looking at.

You, are not a piece worth staring at.

You are not designed to be a muse in the first place— and you no longer had the skills to paint.

Everyone is either an artist or the art, so now, where do you stand?

prev | masterlist | next

note. im back yippiiieeee hello yall ^^

taglist. @veekoko @aeongiies @featuredtofu @kodzusmiles @magica-ren @feiherp @beriiov @hiraethhv @kleej @eutopiastar @keiiqq @bananasquash @kuniisvt (i cant tag those in bold ;(()

[anemos-orca]

But a Furious Requiem of Stupidity

wanderer x irritated!fem.reader

cw: fluff, est. relationship, cussing, cynical themes, pessimism, comfort, not proof read, probaby more qnq

a/n: apologies for my lack of activity, ive had a bit of a writing slump lately :( im still here though, i promise qwq ah anyways, i apologize if this is not a good read

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Usually, Wanderer was home first. He would get there before you almost every day and (im)patiently wait for your arrival, only to put on a cold-front once you walked in. You knew him though, so you knew that it was nothing more than mere instinct- a special little trait that he was conditioned to own due to his less than savory backstory. You were like him in the fact that you couldnt care less about others and what they did, thought, or believed, whether it be about you or not. You were often compared to both him and Alhaitham, having overheard the, "Shes like... if Hat Guy and Alhaitham had a kid," countless times. Admittedly, you knew they werent wrong. Although you had met the Scribe but a few times, you knew how he was, so you knew that you were, in fact, just like him- if not "worse" than him.

Today was a different-feeling day. Wanderer came home just as he usually did, stepping inside and shaking off his flamboyant getup to swap it for a more "Im incredibly poor and could really use some new clothes" look. His ugly, overused hoodie was far too big- the once bright blue sleeves, now washed out and dull, hung below even his fingertips, the hood could cover his face and then some, and the front pocket- well, it was more of a pouch, but thats besides the point- was big enough to fit an entire meal for two inside (a theory the two of you tested, wanting to sneak your own food into the House of Daena instead of snacking on the pathetic, drywall-esque food bars they provided). His shorts were nothing special; though, neither of you knew where they came from. Yes, they were one of the, "are these black shorts yours? theyre not mine, so they must be- what do you mean theyre not yours?" pieces of clothing everyone seems to have.

Stepping into the kitchen, Wanderer was met with the pitiful sight of you sitting on the cold stone floor with your back pressed against the once nicely polished Adhigama wood cabinets. He narrowed his eyes at you, looking you up and down as though he believed you to be a fake. You werent one to miss work, no matter how much you hated it.

"I got fired," you groaned, not even so much as turning to look at him. Your tone was more deadbeat than usual.

"Im surprised you didnt get the pink slip earlier," he scoffed, sliding his back down the cabinet to sit beside you. You yanked on the hem of his hoodie and pulled it over your head to join him, earning an irritated growl from your boyfriend as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

"Its a real shame, too," you sarcastically retorted, leaning your head on his shoulder, "i was hoping that one day, id wake up and head off to that wretched place, only to find that it had exploded overnight."

Wanderer couldnt help but snicker at your cynical wishes, "Is that what got you fired? Id fire you if i heard you say that."

"Shut the fuck up and let me finish talking," you said with a growl. Even though you couldnt see it, you could feel that stupid sly grin on his face and those disgustingly dreamy eyes rolling at your bitching. It was normal for you two to talk this way with one another- in fact, it was your way of bonding and the thing that brought you together in the first place.

"The Akadeymia is full of idiots. A graduate student asked me- genuinely asked me," you cleared your throat and began repeating the students words in a mocking tone, "wait, so do i use 'their' or 'there'?"

Wanderer hung on your every word, waiting for the inevitable explosion of, "How is he a graduate student?" and "What was he going to ask next? Which 'to' to use? Which 'your' to use?" with increasing intensity. However, it never came. Instead, you simply shrugged, sighing in relief.

"I ripped his paper to shreds and threw it into the air like confetti before walking out without saying another word."

"So, you quit?"

"No, i was fired."

"You said you walked out without ano-"

"I didnt say another word, but the student, his friends, and the professor had some words. A lot of words."

"Hmm. Im sure they did. People from the Akadeymia sure do have a lot of words."

"A lot of words they dont know how to use. Its hopeless, but its also not my problem anymore. Itll eventually devolve into a nothing more than a joke and a waste of time."

Wanderer was quiet for a moment, taking his next words into great consideration as to not say the wrong thing, "You know, im usually the pessimistic one, but youre being a real downer right now. Even I know that humanity isnt that stupid."

You let out a careless sigh in response.

"There will always be people you meet that are so unbelieveably stupid, they make you wonder how they got past the age of seven," he grumbled, seemingly annoyed at just the thought of them, "But theres also people like you, like us. Sure theyre few and far between, but theyll come to you. Theres no need to sift through the endless waves of brainless idiots. Anyone with even an ounce of self respect will stick out like a sore thumb."

You hummed in thought, seemingly not believing him.

"Dont hum at me. Think about it- its how you me, not to mention those blabbering fools you call friends. Alhaitham, Tighnari, Cyno, Kaveh- even though theyll never live up to the bar ive set, theyre still above the rest of the crowd."

You sneered up at him, teasingly smacking him on the back of his head, "You bonehead! If anything, youve lowered the bar!"

Wanderer glared down at you, shoving you away. However, due to being in the same hoodie, he was inadvertedly pulled with you as you flopped onto the floor. He managed to fall on top of you, smushing you down to the floor and effectively trapping you. With a devious grin, he moved his hands up to your cheeks, forcing you to look at him, "Tell me you love me and that im better than everyone else."

You raised an eyebrow at him, "I loathe you and go to sleep every night hoping youll dissolve."

Wanderer narrowed his eyes, his nose crinkling in irritation as he squeezed your cheeks together, "Say it."

"Or what?" You protested in a purposefully bratty tone.

"Or no kisses. No cuddles. No-"

"Alright, alright, damn! I love you and you are slightly above everyone else."

"Wrong. Say it the right way."

"Youre so irritating, just give me a kiss, blockhead!"

"Guess ill be sleeping elsewhere toni-"

"NO N-" you clear your throat, a bit embarrassed that you reacted so strongly, "N-no, i love you, i do, and you really are better than everyone else," you begrudgingly admitted, a slight blush creeping in on your cheeks.

Smirking with satisfaction, Wanderer released your face from his hands and leaned down to press a gentle, loving kiss on your lips, "Thats better. You know, youre awfully cute when you get all flustered and blushy like that."

"WANDERER!!"

He snickered, thuroughly enjoying how easy it was for him to get under your skin no matter how pissed off your expression was. Besides, it was hard to take you seriously when your cheeks were bright red.

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[sunjinjo]

The fourth and last part of this series by the unspeakably lovely ✨Lumier✨ is here!!! (tumblr's acting weird so full image as well as insta link this time)

“The leaves on the wind told him the truth. He came to realize what really happened all those years ago, the bitter and the sweet; he had been loved after all, but he’d turned on those that’d loved him with his own hands.” Kintsugi’s outstretched hand slowly closed, cradling a few of the fallen petals. He turned to look, for the first time, at the torn remnants of the white clothing he’d entered the stage in, kneeling down and gently touching them. “…And the truth, however painful, set him free.” He closed his eyes, smiling serenely for a moment, as though returning to the state he’d been in when he’d worn those white garments. Gently, carefully, he set the blackened remains of the folding fan atop them, then fluidly rose – and discarded the black garment covering his usual, blue-white attire. His elegant, trailing sleeves emerged on a gust of wind that sent leaves and petals spiraling everywhere, and his Vision shone bright enough to illuminate the stage. Nahida smiled in relief and joy to see its light, to see the return of the one she’d come to know. “Knowing what had really transpired, his guilt was immense, yet there was nothing to be done but move forward and try to make amends. The world around him encouraged this, gently carrying him forward, not judging him no matter how he might judge himself.” (Chapter 2 of On swords and those who wield them)

Having checked back, Lumier managed to finish a full artwork every week... I feel so lucky... this was originally just a 'pick your favourite scene from this fic' but she gave me everything... (Gimli and Galadriel moment 'she gave me four'... 😭)

I'm so in love with this one in particular. I'm a heretic latecomer to the Scaramouche fandom - I fell in love with Wanderer, first. I love Wanderer even more than Kabukimono. It's why my series is called Mended with Gold - I love every crack that makes him *him*. And Lumier captured him stepping back into the first new light so, so well. I particularly love how his eyes are closed like in the first act, but he still wields his blade like in the darker act, too. A wonderful amalgamation of all his former selves... that's our boy. 💖

[ashvieq]

direction.

wanderer x reader ; no use of y/n!

gn reader & wanderers pov 🌷

fluff + a bit of his past

the power of anemo, the element of which represents freedom, free will. after the torture of those unkind, and even friendly, wonder still spills in my mind.

questions splattered, painting the canvas of my thoughts. what would happen if she didnt discard me? would i still have been awarded the power of anemo if i didnt go through the suffering?

if i didnt betray the fatui, would i still have met them?

what a stupid question.

i wouldve found a way or another.

emotions melted and mixed together when it came to them. my legs rested off the cliff, one push and i could plummet down to demise, not like i would let that happen. and it also seemed they wouldnt let me either, tightly embracing my cold body with their own.

curiosity slipped in as they started to speak with a voice that reduced my stress. my eyes wandered towards their appearance, even if they felt conscious about it, it somehow always made me feel a bit warm. but i wasnt gonna say that out loud. their claims about disliking their looks made me scoff.

“ugly? are you stupid or what? you look fine, stop worrying about idiotic things like that and keep your pretty eyes ahead.”

ive started to like my freedom. even if it was in the form of a human.

masterlist <3

@ashvieq — please dont plagiarise or steal any of my works! no reposting or translating! respect my wishes and have fun reading my works!

[rokirokiro]

Love Declaration Imp♡ct

Wanderer. he goes by many names. Kabukimono, Kunikuzushi, Scaramouche the Balladeer, and the list goes on. but people certainly recognized him as your companion. how couldn't them? he's always there, watching over you. no matter the time and place, he'd just groan as he follows you from behind since Nahida told him to be more 'social', and the person had to be you. since you're the most bearable mortal in the whole Akademiya. smh.

♡!

I say he's the man with thousands of apparent emotions, yet he'd bring all that 'pathetic feelings' to his grave. he feels too much! which is also the root of his problems. and one of the people had to be you, for some reason. he'd KILL to erase this 'embarrassing' feelings, yet he can't. and it frustrates him on how much his nonexistent heart beats when you smile at him. on how his empty puppet body feels a tingling sensation of nervousness and warmth (as if he had any) when you invited him to do something. the fact that you recognized him, and be casual with him. it's so rare to see someone who's this positively unfazed with his presence, and this rarity makes him feel uncomfortable.

yes, love is so uncomfortable. he used to yearn for it, stays away from it, and now being chased by it. he's in absolute shambles from the very moment his Mother created him. his love life is disastrous even before he learns world.

Σ>―(OTW)♡→

he'd try his best to avoid love at first. to avoid you. to get rid of this haunting feelings that made his sleepless nights insufferable. like how he did in his Fatui era, when he was corrupted.

but he can't

he realized that he can't stand without you in front of him, guiding him to light. he's too used to see you that it felt so uncomfortable without you with him. the nother feeling without you feels even worse, as if his cold puppet body was impaled with a massive spear and left a huge hole in his chest. absence makes the hearts grow stronger, and the strange feeling is here to confirm.

it feels like the fourth betrayal, and he betrayed himself by pushing you away.

and of course, he's so egoistic over himself too. he'd convince himself that it's just a simple three words muttered to one another, nothing more, nothing less. he acted cool with it, when he's invisibly not.

he's scared

scared of rejection, scared of the aftermath. what if everything goes wrong? what if you were just being friendly to him? not that he have a full experience with having an actual friendship anyway, it's been centuries. other than Nahida, the Traveller and Paimon and the rest that he considered even lower than an acquaintance.... nah

he's hopeless.

but giving up never existed in his dictionary, never giving up in achieving new experiences as Kabukimono, never walked away from the experiments to become a god as Kunikuzushi, and he'd certainly never giving up in his feelings as Wanderer.

and so he spend months to think. yes, months.

he wanted to make the best surprise in the world, to show you how much of an awesome guy he is. to make your jaw dropped and face full of surprise. to make you his in an instant

and at last, he choose to go on the cliche route, choosing a place related heavily to the both of you since he just LOVE symbolism. he does, he told me just now.

◌⑅⃝ ♡⋆♡CONFESSION♡⋆♡ ⑅◌

he'd come to you at the end of your class, which is weird! you were always approaching hin first! and it had you rose your eyebrows slightly at his act

he'd propose that he wants to bring you somewhere nice after-school since 'college is suffocating him and wants to bring you to sniff on fresh air so you better be thankful' in this somewhere. and given the odds, you agreed

he made sure to hold your hand.

he offered his hand like how he offered you his affection.

and so the both of you walk out of the cultural building, every steps engraved in his history, it's all precious. every moment will forever be his favorite memory, or the most loathed one. because he too is imperfect, a 'plain and simple words of rejection' would shatter his artificial body completely.

"here we are" he said. and your eyes would be looking at the beautiful scenery on the hidden parts of Sumeru, the soft wind blowing your uniforms. while you were fascinated by the picture, he'd be mesmerized by you. the scenary is beautiful, but he's too busy looking at you

oh how beautiful you looked, your pupils dilated at the sight of nature, and the wind is being too good today to be an actor for your beautiful blowing hair/hijab. your soft skin, and those haunting smile leaving him sleepless at night...

you're utterly beautiful.

his artificial hand would tremble in your touch, the nervousness strikes at the best times before the climax. he hated himself about it, but he can't effort to pay less attention to you either

he then heard you saying that you remembered this place, of course you would. this place is your first time meeting him, getting each other's eyes interlocked with each other, not knowing what to come next

if he tell his past self that he'd fall on his knees for this person he's holding hands with, his past self would laugh at him.

"of course you would, me too" he said in a soft and low tone "I'll never forget the place that changed me forever"

"forever?"

"forever."

"how so?"

he paused, just taking you in for a moment before he began to open his mouth

"this is where I found my heart, one that I yearned for 500 years"

"oh?"

"and the heart-"

he's then brought your hands to your chest, feeling the heartbeats beneath the layers of flesh and bones

"-is here, right in front of me."

(｡’▽’｡)♡

he goes by many names ; Kabukimono, Kunikuzushi, Scaramouche the Balladeer and more and more.... .. but for now and forth, he'd forever be known as your lover

[narcissarina]

“𝚈𝚘𝚞... 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐.”

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6.4ᴋ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs/ᴛᴀɢs: ᴀɴɢsᴛ! ʜᴜʀᴛ sᴏᴍᴇʜᴏᴡ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴍᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ɴᴏᴛ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜs, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴡᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇʀs ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴇʀᴀ (ғʀᴏᴍ 500 ʏᴇᴀʀs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴛ), ғ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ᴋᴀʙᴜᴋɪᴍᴏɴᴏ ᴄᴀʟʟs ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ʜɪs ᴍᴏᴍ♥︎), ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀs ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ʀᴇɪɴᴄᴀʀɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ғᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴᴇ ᴄɪᴛɪᴢᴇɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴋᴀʙᴜᴋɪᴍᴏɴᴏ, sᴄᴀʀᴀᴍᴏᴜᴄʜᴇ, ᴋᴜʀᴏɴᴏsʜɪ, ᴋᴜɴɪᴋᴜᴢᴜsʜɪ, ᴡᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇʀ, ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴛ ᴏғ ᴛᴇʏᴠᴀᴛ, sᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀ!! ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴡᴇsᴛ ᴛʀᴀɪʟᴇʀ ғʀᴏᴍ ғᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴘʜᴇᴄʏ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴅʏɪɴɢ/ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜs! ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴏʀ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ sᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀs. ғʟᴜғғ + ᴀɴɢsᴛ.

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ғɪɴᴅ ᴀ ʟᴏsᴛ ʙᴏʏ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴏᴅs, ʜᴇ ᴡᴀs sʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇғᴜʟʟʏ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴀss. ɪɴsᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴏғ ᴡᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ ᴜᴘ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʀɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴀʀʀʏ ʜɪᴍ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴀʟʟ ᴡᴀʏ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɢᴇ, ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɢᴇ ᴄʜɪᴇғ sᴄᴏʟᴅᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴄᴀʀʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴏᴜɴɢ ʙᴏʏ ᴀʟʟ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ. ᴇᴠᴇʀ sɪɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴇɴ, ʜᴇ ɪɴsɪsᴛ ᴏɴ ʜᴇʟᴘɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴛᴀsᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴇᴅs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ɴᴏʀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴏɴ. ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀsᴋ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴘᴜᴘ ʜᴇ ɪs, ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟsᴏ ғɪɴᴅ ɪᴛ ᴏᴅᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇs ɴᴏᴛ ᴏᴡɴ ᴀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ɴᴏʀ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴇ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ʜɪᴍsᴇʟғ, ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴇʟᴘ ʜɪᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴋᴀʙᴜᴋɪᴍᴏɴᴏ. ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ʜᴇ sʟɪᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ “ᴍᴏᴍ” ᴏʀ “ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ”, ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴛʀᴀɢᴇᴅʏ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ. ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʀᴀɢᴇᴅʏ ᴄᴏsᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪғᴇ ᴏʀ ᴄᴏsᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ sᴇᴘᴇʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴏᴜs ᴋᴀʙᴜᴋɪᴍᴏɴᴏ?

ᴀ/ɴ: ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴛʜɪs, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴛʜᴀᴛ, ʜᴏᴡ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴀ ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ ʀs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇʀs ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴇʀᴀ ᴄᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ʜɪs ᴍᴏᴍ? ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ɪ ᴅɪᴅ ʜɪs ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴇʀᴀ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛɪᴄᴇ, ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜɪs ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴍʏ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ ʀᴀᴍʙʟᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʜɪᴍ ʟᴏʟ. sᴏ ɪ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴛʜɪs, ɢʀᴀᴍᴍᴀᴛɪᴄᴀʟ ᴇʀʀᴏʀs ᴀʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴘᴏᴏᴋɪᴇs;) ᴅᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴘʟᴀʏᴇᴅ ғᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴᴇ ǫᴜᴇsᴛ ʏᴇᴛ ʙᴄ ᴍʏ sᴄʜᴇᴅ ɪs ᴘᴀᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ɪs ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ʟᴏsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴍɪɴᴅ ɢʀʀʀʀʀ. ᴅɪᴅ ɪ ᴄʀʏ? ʏᴇs, ʏᴇs ɪ ᴅɪᴅ.

It’s funny how you got yourself in this situation, it felt like you adopted a puppy than a helper. What’s his name again? Kabukimono? Cute little innocent guy you took in. It was funny when he slipped up and called you “mom” or “mother.”

“Here, mom.” Kabukimono took the wood you have gathered, “let me help.” He insisted as a smile spread across his face, the sun illuminates with his smile as if the sun was also smiling upon him. You gave him a pat in his head, “I can handle this.” You assured and tried to get the log of woods back.

He took the logs and pressed it against his chest, as if he’s hugging it and not wanting to let go. He insist, he wanted to help you like how you helped him.

You could only sigh and pinch his cheeks gently, a soft sigh as you see him walk away with the logs, your eyes went a little wide when he almost trip himself—he turn around to face you from the distance and gave you a thumbs up. What a cute little guy.

After placing the log to its rightful place, he runs up to you and hugs you around the waist as you were taller than him, “very good, Kabuki.” You praise and caress the back of his head, feeling his dark purple hair. He beams with a smile like a ray of sunshine, you noticed that his sleeves were a little dirty.

“Did you trip into mud or something, dear?” you asked him with a worried you, also noticing that he had a little bruise on his left elbow. “I’m fine.” He said, his brows knitted together as he doesn’t want you to worry too much about him.

“How about you?” he tilts his head, his arms still around your waist and his chin resting on your chest—where he can happily hear how your heart beats, you don’t know why but he said that hearing it beat makes his mind at ease.

A yell was heard from the distance, it was the village chief. “Kabukimono!” he called out for the boy, “coming!” Kabukimono yelled as he looks up at you again, meeting eye to eye as you brush a strand of hair away from his baby soft face. He looks like a sad puppy when someone needs him, where he’ll be only a few minutes away from you.

“You planning on going?”

“But I don’t want to leave you.”

“It’s ok, I’ll take it from here.” You assured and kissed his forehead—sweet, soft, and gentle. Just like how he loves it. He nodded and was now off the run. He was running happily as he help the village chief bring and sort some supplies for the people.

Look at that sweet child! Always helping other people when they need him, you always see him hanging around the blacksmiths. Helping and learning to make iron weapons and chatting with the other boy there, his name? You didn’t get to know him but all you know that Kabuki was always on his side, maybe a friend?

Sometimes, his naivety and willing to help always worries you. His willingness and wanting to be helpful… you can’t form a word to it, because sometimes you’ll hear him say weird things nor that some insult was a good compliment. As if, you worry that he’s easy to manipulate.

Maybe you worry too much, but it’s better to worry when that kid seeks your presence, sees you as his “mother” and wanting to be held close to your warmth. He’ll politely ask whether he could even cuddle with you to sleep.

In your sleep, you were blessed by the gods above, the heavenly principle—Celestia.

“What does it do?” Kabuki asked, poking the hard glass of the electro vision where it’s hanging on your right side of your chest. You could only chuckle when he observe and awe when you match your clothes to your vision before he catch your waist again and nuzzle his cheek against the fabric of your new attire, “soft.” He murmur and deeply inhale and exhale as he buried his head in your chest.

“To answer your question, my dear Cecilia.” You pressed your lips on top of his head and pinch his cheeks as he holds himself close to you, as if he wants to be part of you on how he’s being passive-aggressive, “It’s a vision, given by Celestia when you are acknowledged by them.”

“It’s purple.”

“because it’s an electro vision.”

“you can choose visions?”

You want to laugh at his remark, but seeing how dear and innocent he is—you hugged him tightly as he is hugging tightly to you, you answered, “No, you can’t choose visions, if Celestia gives me that option then I could’ve picked the anemo vision by now.” You laughed.

“why didn’t you?”

“Because I can’t, Kabuki.”

“a certain vision will only be given, maybe it’s because of ‘the key is people’s desires.’” You added and patted his back, “why don’t you go and play?”

“I rather take care of you.” He murmur against your chest, not moving or even budging one bit as if he’s glued into you. “please.” There it is, the eyes that he knew you love so much, that you can’t even say no to him. He knows this.

“You haven’t taken your medicine, again.” He slightly frowns and rest his chin against your chest, his brows knitted in genuine worry. You smiled sweetly at him, “It’s hard to have a grab of a medicine nowadays, dear.” You trace your fingertips along to his hair, soothing his head as he let out a soft sigh against your touch.

“You need to be in shape or else the chief will scold you again.”

“I know.”

“Take your meds then.” He buried himself yet again against your chest.

He’d be like a lost puppy with you, everywhere you go—he’ll be there to follow.

Every sight and venture to the woods, he’ll be there to prepare your needs as he wants to look after your health.

After all, you are an ill person, a sick vision holder. And since he learned that vision has powers, he is worried to you as you are worried to him.

In the night, when the stars are visible—he will ask you to come join him stargazing, simplest things and small gestures makes him happy. Nothing too fancy, nothing too big nor small. Just you and him, under the stars till the two count a thousands of stars.

You were everything to him. And he was everything to you, as if the world had gone small and only left the two of you.

Would a day come where you have come to meet your demise? As this happiness and endless of laughter with this sunshine has been a little too good to be true. As if, the sun was smiling too much upon the two of you.

Was it smiling? Or was it mocking?

დ➳დ➳დ↴

You were making some food and cutting up fruits, accidentally cut your index finger and hiss brought Kabukimono’s attention to you as he hurriedly got up to you, “Are you okay, mom?” he asked as he confusingly stared up at you when you brought your bloody finger uo to your mouth to suck the blood out.

“I’m fine.” You stated, almost a muffle as you suck your own finger off. You glance at your ingredients and you lack of Lavender melons, “By the way,” you pulled your finger back from your lips and got to the nearest pond to wash your finger, “Can you find me more lavender melons, Kabuki?” you asked of him. He nodded and sat beside you when you wash your finger off, you smiled and mouthed that you are fine.

He was worried, but did what you asked as you assured him you are fine.

He had picked a few Lavender Melons, some trees were a little high for him to reach—resulting him to use one of his sandal and throw it at the melons. After a few fail attempts, the melon falls as he quickly got into his feet and caught the falling fruit that might explode when falling from a very high surface.

He was… messy. Dirt around his white kariginu outfit with a lavender veil, somehow, he didn’t pay attention to his dirty attire. All he thinks about was the delicious food you’ll be making and desserts with these fruits, even he, himself knew that he doesn’t need food to full himself nor get energy from them. Why? He’s a puppet, of course.

Does he feel bad when you prepare him food even though he doesn’t need it like humans do? No, in fact. He enjoys the food you made for him, he loves your cooking and loves it more when you eat with him while he listens to you talk.

The fact that you sent him out to gather a few lavender melons for ingredients, it delights him that you stay at home while he is useful and helpful to you. He was delighted that you found him first and took him in.

You treated him with kindness that he never knew needed nor know about it, he felt like he could trust you completely—but doubt crawls over to his mind, if he told you that he’s a puppet. How would you react?

Would you hate him? Throw him away? Tell the whole village that he’s not one of you? Would you turn your back on him and leave him behind? Abandon him?

A lavender melon fell onto his head, snapping him back to reality. It looks like he zoned out for a bit. He brush the back of his head and chuckle to himself, keeping a positive energy and took the lavender melon to his arms as he stood up and hops his steps back to the village.

How delighted he will be when he comes home having two to five lavender melons he had taken… and thanking the tress for it. He loves hearing your praises when he did something good and that made you smile, he would cling and watch you slice those fruits up and feed him a slice and make a little mini jump of excitement.

It was a nice walk way back, he swung open the door and greeted with a huge smile in his face, “Mother, I’m back!” he yelled and run up to you on the table where you bandage up your small cut wound.

Your smile and the touch of your warm hand was the small thing that’ll keep him happy, your voice that’s been singing praises will play in his ears as you acknowledge his help and usefulness, “Very good, Kabuki.” You place a quick kiss against his forehead and took the lavender melons from his arms.

“Kabuki, how about you go help the chi-”

You fail to form your sentence as screams were heard outside, your heart dropped. Fear overcomes as you move by instinct and pulled Kabukimono by his arm, directly going towards to the other door where you go out and train with your wooden dummies. You look back and see to him, those screams…

He was terrified.

“W-What’s happening..?” He manage to ask, his tone mix with confusion and concern. You wanted to get away, get Kabukimono away from this horrors. Turning sharp to the corner, a sharp breath caught to your throat—as if you have forgotten how to breathe. What did you see?

Someone, you tried to push Kabukimono away from the scene—trying to turn his back away but it was too late, he had already witness a horrifying scene that will haunt him every night.

A village person, dead, on the ground. Their eyes were bloodshot as if they are shredding blood as their tears. Crimson blood dripping down from their forehead as they lie lifeless to the ground—their head to the side as if they’re staring at the both of you, as if they’re saying, you’re next.

You and Kabuki were hiding behind your small house, having the shadow covers up the two of you, to not be revealed by some monster, or rather. A unwelcomed guest in the village, who has come bring chaos and bloodshed within the village, your home.

You turn to Kabuki, he was confuse—he does not know why there’s crimson in that persons head, dripping down as they lie lifeless in the ground with their own pool of blood, you palm his cheeks, forcing a smile as you tried to steal his gaze away from such horrifying scene.

“Kabuki, dear, listen. I want you to do something for me, hm?” you try to remain calm, not wanting to scare the boy who has his gaze on you. His brows knitted together in worry, his eyes visibly scared on what he had witness. You grab a hold of his forearm as you got on one knee to kneel down, your eye to his, “Everything’s going to be fine, I want you to run and get help.” You kiss his forehead.

“what about you?”

“I’ll buy you time, I can fight after all.”

“You’re still not in good condition.”

“I know,” you smiled and stood up—cupping his cheek as you pull him in an embrace, “But I’ll be fine, now go.”

He nodded but his eyes darted to another person that’s been getting chase down, sword pierce right through them as a bloody scream escape from their mouth, coughing blood as the sword was retrieve—leaving that person in their own pool of blood.

He could only close his eyes and tighten his arms around your embrace, he wants to cry, to yell, but he needed to do what you said, get help. He thought of coming to the shogun and ask them for help.

Pulling away as he ran from the opposite direction, those “guest” noticed the boy as they try to come after him, you block their direction as you pulled out your bow—merging your element to form an attack. Buying Kabukimono some time to run.

He saw you fight one on one or more, you were going on defense more than offence, his can feel his skin shudder and his heart and mind race with worry. He wants to help you, but he needs to get help.

Kabuki ran, he ran as tears were filling up his vision and try to get help—but his mind wanders back to you, what if you get hurt? What if something worse happens to you?

These thoughts what made Kabuki stop his tracks, would he want to go back and ignore your favor don‘t get you out of there, he wants you to run away with him.

And so, he ran back. And the moment he did, he witness something that terrified him most.

“Mother..?” he called out, his eyes wide and his brows knitted with worry as tears were starting to form in his eyes. You rest your back against the tree as you sat with your own pool of blood, breathing heavily and your eyes heavy.

He ran towards you, tears rolling down his cheeks as he held you by his arm—cradling you like how you cradle him, he inspect your injury, your right hand covering your stomach to the side, trying your best to stop the bleeding.

Your half-lidded eyes darted to his worried and scared gaze, you could only smile and took your right hand off of your bleeding figure and use it to cup his face, staining him with your warm blood.

“There you are.” You manage to utter weakly, trying to manage that lovely tone that he loves so much. “It’s ok, I’m still alive.” You assured, wiping a tear off of his cheek using your thumb. You took something off of your shoulder, your vision then a paper, probably a letter. “Have this, open the letter when the time comes.”

Time? What time? He could only ask himself in his mind, what can he do to help you? He felt so low.. so vulnerable and helpless, as if he failed serving and following you, help. “H-Help..” he manage to voice out, “I n-need to get you help.” He says and kneel as he tries his hardest to get you on his back, but you didn’t budge.

“It’s ok… It’s just a small wound..” Small? It can’t be that small when you’re losing too much blood and when you’re desperate trying to get air as you were breathing heavily, “you were the best thing that has ever happen to me, Kabuki.”

He could only weep, bury his head against your neck. Trying his best not to cry out loud, you patted his shoulder in a weak manner—as if you’re slowly losing energy. He noticed that the light of your vision is slowly fading, but he pay no mind as he’s only focus on you and you alone.

Tears keeps coming as they slide down from his cheeks then drop to your cheeks, your thumb always wiping them off as his glassy eyes stared to yours—you were wasting your last energy talking to him and wiping off his tears and telling something humorous, to make him laugh right? You could hear him make a few slight chuckles in between his silent sobs.

He has you in his back, carrying you all the way to get help to the shogun herself—telling him sweet nothings as he communicates with you, thinking it’d be a good idea to keep the conversation to keep you entertained and alive. Help is on the way.

“W-We’re here!” he exclaimed, his legs almost going to give out on how much items you carry within your attire, “h-hey..” he called and nudges you lightly, to his horrors. You weren’t responding. He gently lay you down to the ground and held you in an embrace, tapping your cheeks and shaking you gently, “M-Mom..?” His heart dropping, his eyes widening and his breathing becomes rapid.

“H-Help..” he choke on his words, he screams for help—grabbing people’s attention to him as they saw the poor frightened boy covered with your dried blood—messing up his kariginu robe, along with his lavender veil as tears fails to form in his eyes, seeing that you are now lifeless in his arms and now that your vision is no longer glowing, no more life.

Time slows down, as if people are moving slowly around him—sounds of panic and urgency became a muffle as his own ears ring and his breathing rigged. He could only hold on tightly to the vision that has lost its light, as it felt like it died with you.

With you gone, he doesn’t know what to do—what task he’ll help with or errand to run. With the village turns to a bloody ruin, an unwanted war brought to the peaceful environment. He found himself in front of your bed. Where you and him cuddle to sleep, where you tell him little stories to help the two of you to fall asleep

“Gone.” He mutter, his tone flat as he’s tired. So, so tired. He misses your touch and warmth, your voice and your lovely smile that greets him every time he ran home after finishing an errand. He missed your presence, so much.

Your scarf around his neck, sniffing your scent in it—if there are still that remains. He crawls in bed, hugging his knees together as he look at the bedside table, a picture frame of you and him; smiling. Finally, he finally shred one last tear, as he hug himself to sleep. He imagines that you are here with him, in bed. Cooing him, soothing him, assuring him, that everything will be alright. He imagine that you were humming him to sleep or telling him folktales, how your hand on his back as you caress him to sleep.

But now? He’s alone, your poor Kabukimono, hugging himself to sleep as he pretends you are still with him. Silent sobs escapes from him as he falls from a deep slumber.

And thus, how his life began, or how his life began to be a living hell. To be an experiment.

დ➳დ➳დ↴

Five-hundred years, it has been that long. For him, and that’s how long you have been dead.

The poor boy has been through so, so much… Pain, misery, despair, loneliness, betrayals, and how he witness humans and his surroundings evolve to something new every year.

He became an experiment to The Doctor, a fatui harbinger, and needless to say that he had gone through many names.

Kabukimono, the boy who you once adored. A naïve and helpful child that who is willing to do anything that you ask.

Kuronoshi, then Kunikuzushi—where he starts his vengeance where he was betrayed three times and saw the ugliness of human society, yet he desire to be one of them. But, in this case, he doesn’t know whether to take your ‘death’ as a betrayal, as in every era he pass through—he would always thought of you.

Then comes The Balladeer, or Scaramouche per say. He became a fatui, he became a cruel and cunning harbinger—the boy who you couldn’t even recognize anymore, as he was experimented many times to the promise of the divine power, that made him lose himself in sole way. But he only desire a heart of his own, if only he wasn’t a puppet.

Shouki no Kami, who he has been use as the subject and has the power to rival Teyvat’s gods, and is known to be an artificial divinity, but alas, he was defeated by the Goddess of wisdom—Nahida, due to the loop she did to defeat him. But he soon enough when he gain consciousness after his coma, he agreed on helping Nahida to some way in Irminsul—thus him removing his past to the world.

But at some point, he never did erase the him you met in the past first five-hundred years, he only kept Kabukimono in Irminsul. As if, his own mind couldn’t erase you. He wanted to hate you despise you and curse you for leaving him. But he didn’t understand the concept of death, he didn’t understand.

All he knew, is that… you were a wonderful experience…

In which now, he became ‘Wanderer’ that the people in Akademya and the traveler knew now.

დ➳დ➳დ↴

His arms crossed and his eyes close as he rest his back against the wall, feeling the cool wind hit him. A flying companion and blonde traveler approach the boy who seems to relax on his own, “Teyvat to wanderer!” the flying ‘thing’ spoke to catch the boys attention, “what now?” the boy sigh and turn to the blonde traveler. His peace of mind was disturb by a certain someone, he was busy—busy reminiscing the past.

“Oh.. So you’re heading to Fontaine next?” Wanderer raised his eyebrow, arms still cross against his chest as he spoke in a surprise tone. The flying ‘thing’ nodded, who’s name is Paimon, “uh-huh! Nahida says we should take you with us.” The traveler nod and smile, “she says you need some time off and come with us to enjoy Fontaine.”

He could only stare down to his anemo vision and fix his hat as a sigh escapes from his lips, “fine, I’ll come.” He agreed and gave a faint smile, “lead the way, traveler and Paimon.”

“Safe travels for the three of you, and keep an eye on Wanderer.” Nahida remarks with a giggle, “It’s not like I’m going to commit a crime or something.” Wanderer replied, the Goddess of wisdom only giggled and bid both Wanderer and traveler goodbye and wish them well for their travel to Fontaine.

The ride was quiet, his attention was at the sea where the view was just water. No mountains or such, as Paimon and traveler held conversation. His mind wanders back to you, always has been. He looks down at his vision yet again, palming it to his two hands and caressing the thick glass as it glows. He remembers how much you love the wind—how the cool breeze hits your skin and messing your hair, how refreshing it feels and more.

He remembered when you told him that you wish to have that kind of vision, but you were given an electro one. But it’s been five hundred years, that moment had pass and if he could, he would do anything to bring you back. If he had the power, he would demand even the Celestia to give you back to him. He miss you, it hurts him to admit it.

“Uh, hey Wanderer?” Paimon called out, still floating as ever even in the boat. He let out a small hum to answer Paimon’s call, “me and traveler thought that you’re too quietly, is something wrong?” a hint of concern in Paimons voice, he shakes his head and sigh. “It’s nothing,” he says, as he looks at the two then back to his vision, “I just miss someone that’s dear to me, that’s all.” He mumbled and put his vision back to his shoulder—where you too, used to put your vision from five hundred years ago…

“Huh?” Paimon puts her finger to her chin, trying to make out what the boy just said, “Oh!” Paimon nodded, “I get it! You miss someone you know that they hold dear to you,” the boy could only hum in response as the boat still sails towards their destination, “So uh,” Paimon turn to traveler then back to him, “Who’s this person?” she finally asked.

Before he could response, he says, “Oh look, we’re here.” He got up from the boat and look up to the view of Fontaine. Paimon groans and whines at the traveler for Wanderer not answering her question. The people of Fontaine are… unique as they have a modern like and advance technologies unlike other regions, this piqued his interest, but then again—stepping foot here felt like he will wish he did not come here or he was glad he step foot here.

Wanderer felt a sudden of uneasiness as he close his eyes and folds his arms to his chest, “Huh? What’chu standing around for?” Paimon asked, “It’s nothing, I just felt something heavy—like a sudden of uneasiness.” Wanderer turned to them, “It’s just probably nothing.” He gave a shrug and Paimon nodded, how her brows knitted together either a sense of worry or confusion.

“You say you two looking for the Hydro archon?” The boy asked and both traveler and their flying companion nodded, “I feel like you’re in luck, looks like the Hydro archon came looking for you two.” People came bustling and gathering, this is going to be interesting.

დ➳დ➳დ↴

The following days has been… well, a roller-coaster ride, I suppose. It was one hell that the Hydro archon that goes by the name Furina. Lady Furina; which how her people address her, Wanderer was both surprised and shocked when that blonde traveler wanted to duel that god. You couldn’t even imagine how he noticed that the god was shocked and terrified.

He spent most of his time walking behind the big shots: Paimon and the blonde traveler, after all—these two has been awfully graced by the hydro archon herself, which makes them more and more of a celebrity if the archon themselves shows up for them.

But every walk, every click of his shoe, his mind still wanders—how he kept having this feeling, as if he was searching for something but couldn’t point it out, causing him to bump into Paimon and Traveler. “Heeey!” Paimon crossed her arms and turn to the seemingly-lost-in-his-own-thoughts-Wanderer, “Apologies.” He said, putting his hand onto his chest to show that he didn’t mean to and that he’s sincere.

Paimon huffs and puts her hand to her hips, “What has gotten into you, Wanderer?” she asked, Wanderer gave a few good pause before answering. “It’s nothing, I just got this feeling that I’m connected with someone here in Fontaine.” He sigh and turn his head to look at the signs of different shops.

“Oh? That’s weird. You’ve never been to Fontaine before, right?” Wanderer nodded to Paimons remark, “That was what I find odd too.” Wanderer express, his brows knitted—showing either he’s troubled or frustrated.

“Ooh! By the way, you forgot to answer my question!”

“What question?” Wanderer raised an eyebrow, silence filled the air as he made an ‘oh’ expression, “That question.” He said and nodded, “well, it wouldn’t hurt telling a little since it’s been five-hundred years.”

“There was this girl, she was like uh…” he cleared his throat first, folding his arms to his chest, “She was my mother, who treated me as her own.”

“Mom? Like your creator or something?” Said by confused Paimon, her eyes squinting as she looks at her blonde companion: the traveler. Wanderer shakes his head as a faint smile tug from the corner of his lips, “No, you misunderstood.”

“But, you say ‘mom’ then I thought you are calling your creator as your mother. Didn’t the Raiden Shogun created you… No, no. Raiden Ei, I believe.”

“You’re right, Ei created me.” He emphasized his creators name, “But you are still wrong,” both of his hand fell from his sides and shrugs, “Ei created me, I have every right to call her my mom. But she’s not my mom.” This causes Paimon to not understand more of it.

“Ei didn’t treat me as her own, abandoned me and left me to rot.” He pauses, then continues, “While my ‘mom’, the one whom took care of me and took me as her own is my ‘mom.’ Do you get my point now?” The boy tried his hardest to explain.

“She was human, you’d be surprise—of course, since the one who I call my own mother is a human while I’m a puppet.”

“it was indeed shocking that a human took you in, not to mention you call her your mom too.”

“Her name is y/n… Pretty name, yeah?” He chuckle, his brows knitted together as he recall the past, “She was a stubborn fool, always acting out before thinking.” He sighs, “But if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t become what I am now. Probably going to continue as a harbinger or a test subject.”

He looks at the blonde traveler, “And if it weren’t for you nor Buer, I wouldn’t realize that what I was in the past—she would probably be in shock.”

“why?”

“Because her precious Kabuki faded away, she wouldn’t recognize me no more.”

“aww.. Then what happened to her..?”

Sharing isn’t his best forte nor expressing something so deep to someone, it just hurts.. You know? The boy who longed for a mother and feel her love suddenly disappear right before his eyes as he watch you use your last breath. Your last breath where you did not regret wasting it upon him.

And so, the three sat by the nearest bench. He recall and tell the traumatic tale from five-hundred years ago.. How you two met, how it was going—how the your stories progress to a loving mother-son trope. Then, how he lost you..

As he tell his story, he couldn’t shred a tear. Maybe it’s because he’s now immune to the heartbreak and pain? Or maybe there’s no longer tears to shred?

დ➳დ➳დ↴

Time passed, his face remains with that same expression ever since he started telling his sob tale. The traveler could only nod through the whole story, while Paimon cried and sob against the traveler’s shoulder.

3:00 pm.

Checking the time, he lifts his head up to look at the blue sky. The air picking up as he turns his gaze to the two companions, he spoke, “shouldn’t you both better be on your way?”

Paimon weeps, brushing her tears away with the back of her small little hands, “T-That’s so s-sad..” she sniffle, “She’s so nice and.. and..” the next sentence came out gibberish and Wanderer, the blonde traveler—couldn’t make sense of what this flying companion is saying.

He rolled his eyes and breath in, inhaling the air of Fontaine… or it’s just sweets that he smells? Oh, he hates sweets.

He used to love them, with you making them for him. He used to eat all the desserts you make just for him, and he will gladly share and eat them with you in the same table—in the same roof, where he used to call home.

It took some time to have Paimon come down from her overwhelming emotional burst from the boys story. “Didn’t we have some business with the shopkeeper?” Paimon turn to the blonde traveler in which the traveler nodded, the two stood up and asked him if he could join them, extra company wouldn’t hurt.

“oh? You want me to come?” Wanderer asked as he stands up from his seat, brushes the fabric of his shoulder and folded his arms. The two companions nodded with a smile, “It’s best to keep your mind off of a bit, a distraction from your thoughts… Maybe?” Paimon says.

Wanderer chuckle and returns the smile, “If you insist, then sure.”

The walk was nice, it did keep his mind off a bit from his thoughts and this memories because Paimon can’t keep her mouth shut, he only replies with a simple nod, shake, a simple hum and ‘ok’ to her as they finally arrive at the shop they’re suppose to have business with.

“An antique shop..?” Wanderer tilts his head, Paimon nodded and hum, “yup! We were gonna pick something up for monsieur Neuvillette.”

“The chief justice of Fontaine?”

“Yup, he’s the one.”

Slowly nodding to what Paimon said, the three step inside the antique shop.

Your antique shop.

დ➳დ➳დ↴

A familiar voice was heard when they entered the shop, the insides were well-maintained and cleaned. The aroma was sweetly refreshing, and the moment he laid his eyes upon the shopkeeper, he was confuse, surprised, and other emotions that he couldn’t explain—it was overwhelming.

“Hello! Welcome to y/n antiques, feel free to look around.” Your voice, that sweet melodic voice that used to sing for him—that used to look out for him and call him. He couldn’t believe it…

A vision? Anemo, probably a catalyst wielder and an antique owner.. You were alive, much healthier, not ill, full of energy and your voice filling the room of the shop.

“M… M-Ma…?”

“huh?” Paimon looks at the boy, whose face was troubled, full of question and doubt. “Are you alright, Wanderer?”

“I’m fine.” He cleared his throat and looked at the ground, shifting his weight and height to distract himself for a bit. Paimon nods and pay no mind to his troubled thoughts, “Uh, we’re here to pick something up for monsieur Neuvillette.”

“ah! I see, please give me a second,” you spoke with a delight tone and got under the desk to reach out to something.

How..? He thought, looking at you while getting the thing that Neuvillette asked for to the traveler and Paimon, neatly knotting a ribbon beautifully and giving it to the two.

Spending his days from the Akademiya, he know something about this… ‘reincarnation’ something about that, but.. How? He keeps questioning himself, after all these years you’ve come back, alive and well and living the life you dreamed of since the past.

He wanted to hug you, the urge too powerful but he remains in his position—not wanting to scare you, well, since… you don’t remember him. That’s reincarnation, sometimes.. Probably.

“…derer… anderer.. Wanderer..!”

A voice calling out to him when he daze out, finally snapping back to reality, “hm?” he hums a response, “you seem out of it, we got what we needed..” Paimon showed the neatly beautiful ribbon box to Wanderer, “Let’s go! We still have to show you around in the opera house and meeting the chief justice.”

Wanderer blinked and shakes his head, “.. no.. I’ll stay here.. You go.” He said unexpectedly, “you sure?” Wanderer was sure all right, Paimon nodded and sigh, “all right then, meet you later!” And so, the two companion waved and bid farewell to the boy.

“Oh! You’re still here, sir?” you chuckle, “how can I help you?”

“Nothing,” Wanderer replied, “o-oh..!” you smiled and dust off the old book on your hand, his eyes scanned the whole shop and sees that most antiques aren’t properly cleaned yet and some old tale books aren’t in their proper position yet.

It gave him an idea, an idea to get closer with you again, to feel you again. Starting from square one, as if—the universe gave him a chance to be with you again.

“It looks like you’re the one who needed help, miss..” he almost said your name, “y/n, I believe I already introduced myself, but it’s y/n. You are?”

His breath hitches and has this hopeful spark in his eyes, “… Wanderer… Nice to meet you.. y/n.”

დ➳დ➳დ↴

He loves you dearly, still sees you the same as ever. If meeting you like this even after a hundred or thousand of years passes, he wouldn’t mind meeting you over and over and over again. He’ll do anything to be with you, you bring him solace, a safe space and a comforting presence and home.

You only met him the first time here in Fontaine, but for him—he wouldn’t mind meeting you again and again, reincarnation or something. He’s glad he found you, and you found him unintentionally.

No, you don’t know this boy. But somehow felt a connection, as if. You already knew him from your past. As if, he was that little pup in your dreams when you woke up from your deep state of a dream.

He wouldn’t lose you again, no. He’d do anything to protect you like how you have protected him from that village attack. He’s… forever grateful, you haven’t changed much and he… misses you.

A part of him felt complete, like a beautiful tone was complete and the melodies you once sang now carries a different resonance and the past of your last life now fading off of his mind.

And if the prophecy were to be true, he'd watch this nation fall and save you, not wanting to see you die again before his eyes—not wanting to be left again and feel the ache of his... heart. For you, he will choose you over this falling nation.

Now, you’re with him. And he’s with you.

Side by side, capturing every moment with you.

If in the past, he was your wonderful experience and you were.. his everything.

[fatuismooches]

a lesson in love.

The puppet that had recently begun to live in your village had been acting strange around you lately. His name was Kabukimono, and you had never met anyone like him before. You distinctly remember the first time you saw him, Niwa and the others crowded around him. He had the fairest skin, long luscious locks, and clothing that only the highest-standing nobles in Inazuma could afford. He almost reminded you of a princess.

Although the other villagers accepted him, they were still quite reserved towards him. Niwa, Katsuragi, and a few others were the only ones who would smile and laugh with him, ruffling his hair as if he were a normal human. And though Kabukimono was greatly pleased by this, you could see he was still rather lonely. After all, his friends worked most of the day while he was left to his own devices as of now.

You were fascinated by the beautiful boy who seemed enamored with the most simplest of things life had to offer - collecting fruits (especially Lavender Melon, which seemed to be his favorite), playing with finches and other small creatures, and shyly yet curiously watching the other children play from a distance. You were quite entranced with him, and so you struck up a conversation with him. From that day forward, Kabukimono was a changed puppet.

Kabukimono would constantly stare at you and then immediately look away when you turned to face him. He would trail behind you like a lost puppy until you acknowledged him, and quickly scurry to your side. You would wake up to the puppet sitting outside your house, waiting to start the day with you (you were greatly concerned once you realized he sat there for the whole night.) He’d insist on carrying everything for you, and although he was very strong, he did not have a good sense of balance, and well… you can guess how that turned out. He was quite literally attached to your hip, and it didn’t take long for everyone else to notice as well. 

The kids would giggle uncontrollably and start to whisper: “Kabuki and [Name], sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-”, you quickly clamped your hands over their mouths before they could say anything else, while the puppet was confused the whole time. Couples would shoot you knowing looks. Niwa’s wiggling eyebrows and grin did not help you much either. Kabukimono’s love-struck behavior only increased but the problem was that he himself did not understand why he felt this way. Often you would see him with a stumped expression. And well, you had grown a soft spot for the puppet too… you completely adored him. You wanted to make him happy. But first, you must talk with him.

It was a normal day where you were doing nothing in particular, simply enjoying the calmness while Kabukimono sat next to you as well. The puppet had trouble understanding the concept of “relaxing” and doing nothing but he did feel the stress leaving his body whenever he engaged in this activity with you. The birds chirped, the breeze was cool, and everything felt perfect for some conversation.

“Kabukimono, have you been alright lately?” you questioned, hoping to get him to talk about his feelings. The puppet perked up at your voice.

“Me? Yes, I’ve been fine. Why?”

“Well, sometimes I see you looking a little down. I was just wondering why.” Kabukimono was surprised you noticed that, and he felt a bit shy but happy at how much you paid attention to him.

“W-well, it’s nothing really,” he tried to reassure himself and you but you didn’t buy it.

“You know you can tell me anything,” you advised. “I want to help you with whatever’s bothering you.” Kabukimono chewed on his lip, persuaded by your kindness. A determined expression appeared on his face.

“I think I’m sick, [Name],” he said it so seriously you were caught off guard. Out of all answers, you were not expecting that.

“Sick…? But you know you cannot get sick,” you said, trying to hint at the fact that puppets could not contract illnesses.

“I know that, but there’s just no other explanation I can think of! I asked some of the children in the village, and my symptoms line up with what they said!”

“Well, what are your symptoms?”

“My body gets really hot, my palms get sweaty… and my chest starts to feel funny,” he explained.

“Hmm, that does sound like a sickness.” The puppet let out a resigned sigh but then straightened up again.

“But…”

“But?”

“These things… they only happen around you, [Name]. Around everyone else I’m fine, but then as soon as I see you, all these weird things start happening to me,” Kabukimono looked down at his lap bashfully, almost afraid his statement would offend you. Your heart completely melted.

“Hey, look at me, Kabukimono,” you requested, and the puppet slowly complied, looking at you with his shimmering, worried eyes. “Don’t give me that look,” you giggled. “I’m not mad. In fact, I think I know what’s wrong with you. But I… need to do a quick test on you to confirm. Is that okay?”

Hope appeared in his eyes as he nodded excitedly. “Oh, of course! But what do you need to do?”

“Here, give me your hands, Kabukimono,” you said gently, as you placed his soft palms on top of yours. The puppet’s stunned and red-faced reaction already told you everything you needed to know but you still had to take this slowly. “How do you feel right now?”

“I-, I…” Kabukimono struggled to find the words to describe his current state. All he felt was hot, hot, hot from the simple yet affectionate gesture. But the patient smile you gave him was comforting. “I feel very happy, and my mouth hurts from smiling so much. And my body is getting hot like I said before.”

“I see,” you nodded in understanding. You released his hands from yours, much to Kabukimono’s disappointment, but then you placed your hand on his cheek, immediately bringing back his giddiness. “What about now?”

“I feel so…” The puppet was cut off as your thumb suddenly moved to trace your lip. “Ah, it feels like my chest is going to explode!” You chuckled at his simplicity as you removed your hands from him.

“And you’re absolutely sure you only feel this way towards me?” Kabukimono shook his head rapidly.

“No! No, no one else. No one else comes close to you,” he declared, intent on making himself clear, still in awe at the tingly feeling your thumb left on his lips. Your heart sped up from his unintentional adorableness.

“Well, I think I know what you’ve been inflicted with,” you nodded in response. “Yes, it’s quite obvious to me now.” Kabukimono leaned in more, curiosity taking over his body. He was so interested to hear what a smart human like you would say.

“You’re not sick, Kabukimono. You’re simply feeling a rather intense emotion,” you said slowly, hoping not to confuse him. “You are in love,” you finished. Kabukimono’s face was frozen in shock, only a slight shaking of his mouth and eyes could differentiate him from a statue.

“Love… love, i-is that what this is…?” His voice had come to almost a whisper. “Love, like how those married couples love each other?” Suddenly the mental image of him kissing and holding you appeared in his mind and would not leave. “Love!” The puppet could not help but repeat the lovely word again and again. But then a realization hit him and his excitement came to a screeching halt.

“But love… love needs more than one person, does it not? You need to… oh,” the reality of the situation hurt him. Surely you would never return his love. Surely you were interested in someone else, someone who was human. He was just a no-good puppet. Quickly you found your words to comfort him.

“No, no, no, Kabukimono. Look at me, pretty. Please don’t look so forlorn. You need not worry, as I love you too. I love you with my whole heart,” you stated matter-of-factly, in a way that could not be disputed. 

It felt like something was stuck in Kabukimono’s throat, as he found it hard to push words out. “You… love me?” You vigorously nodded in confirmation. “You love me,” he repeated as if saying it more and more would help it settle in. “You love me… such an amazing person loves me…”

You squeezed his hand in response. “Yes, I love you dearly, Kabukimono. I want us to be together,” you said softly. The puppet’s mouth opened and closed, not sure how to even respond to such tenderness. But what ended up coming out was a pitiful sob and streaming tears.

“Thank you for teaching me… thank you for loving me. I don’t know how I could-” The boy’s words began to slur as he cried. Although he loved you dearly, Kabukimono’s mind could only think about how you could abandon him as his creator did. Would you soon deem him unworthy or not good enough, and leave him too? You were taken aback at this drastic change in behavior but quickly pulled him into the reassuring warmth of your chest. You now understood what Niwa meant when he said he was an emotional puppet.

“Hey, hey, deep breaths, okay?” You rubbed Kabukimono’s back in gentle motions as you instructed him. “In, out… in, out, okay…?” The puppet followed your directions and with time, his sobs lessened and now he was a curled-up quiet mess that was in your arms. He would not move away from your chest, and you would be more concerned but you knew he did not need to breathe.

“You don’t need to apologize or thank me for anything. I don’t know what you’ve been through, but… I will always be here for you. You are a beautiful, kind soul. I am so happy to love you, my dearest,” you whispered, stroking his hair in a further attempt to calm him. The puppet almost felt like bawling again at your sincerity, but your voice was such a soft lull, all he wanted to do was take a break in your embrace.

“I love you, [Name]...” Kabukimono mumbled softly, as he fell asleep right there on your chest, knowing that he would be blessed with dreams with you instead of his abandonment.

lesson 1. lesson 2. lesson 3. lesson 4. lesson 5. lesson 6. lesson 7. lesson 8. lesson 9. lesson 10. bonus lesson.

[dizzyjaden]

❝ WHY ARE YOU SO COLD? ❞

Scaramouche x Gn! Reader

♤ Summary: You get injured on a fatui mission in Inazuma with Scaramouche <3

♤ Warnings: Head injury from blunt force (not severe) that makes you woozy

♤ A/N: Thanks for the attention on the genshin men hcs post! So many new bunnies here. Sorry if this is a little rushed </3

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A sharp ring pierces through your ears as you slowly rise from the sudden slumber that had been forced upon you, confusion settling in when you open your eyes to see a blurry hand repeatedly snapping its fingers in front of your face.

"Oh. They aren't dead after all. Go on and thank your luck, boys." A familiar voice speaks. Your vision of blurred shapes and colors slowly adjusts back to normal and finally manages to delineate the image of Scaramouche kneeling down in front of you. Taking in your surroundings, you realize you're on the ground, propped up against a tree, barely sheltered from the downpour of rain, and entirely drenched.

You begin to recall the events that led you here. You can remember that you and the four men that accompanied you were approached by a rather threatening lawachurl that you ended up stuck fighting as they retreated. These men now stood closely together, quivering behind the harbinger examining you. You can't seem to pinpoint the injury you took that caused you to go unconscious, but the dull throbbing in your head wasn't much comfort.

You open your mouth to speak.

"I-"

Scaramouche holds up his index finger directly in front of your face. "Follow my finger please..." He directs your gaze while he carefully moves his hand to the right, and then the left.

"Hm... You might have gotten off easy..." Scaramouche says. "But had I arrived at the scene of your little ruckus a moment later... You have me to thank for your life now, that's for sure."

Your embarrassment visualizes itself by staining your cheeks a bright shade of red. This is your first fatui assignment in Inazuma enacted alongside an actual harbinger, and here you are against a tree with a throb in your head that has certainly become a less-than-admirable sight at this point. On that thought, you brush your hand against your head, it is tender to the touch, but not excruciating.

"Hm... What exactly happened?" Scaramouche asks while standing up straight. "The five of you were supposed to defend the camping grounds."

You are barely acquainted with the four men you were assigned to work with, they do not seem keen on explaining the details of how they abandoned the campground entirely and left you to fight alone. You can not really blame them.

Scaramouche fixates on you instead, awaiting your own explanation rather than hearing it collectively from all of you.

You sigh.

"I recall my four comrades retreating a short while after the battle with the beast began."

Your comrades seem unsure of what to do as Scaramouche turns to face them.

"Is this true? As much as I hate to admit it I wouldn't even be surprised. Fairly new recruits, the lot of you. None of you have been... Broken in just yet." He murmured, a whisk of malice floating in his tone.

Finally, one of your colleagues steps forward and clears his throat.

"It's truly a miracle you arrived when you did, my lord. We retreated because we saw the fight fruitless. There was no way even the five of us could've taken it on."

Scaramouche scoffs at his explanation.

"What a sorry excuse. We are discussing a lawachurl... Yes? There are five of you."

The indigo-haired male sighs heavily and shakes his head. "It only makes sense that the most useless quartet of whiners in Snezhnaya gets thrown at me." He mutters. "I would be less angry, as I am perfectly aware of how unnecessary your company on this mission is. However, your combined incompetence has left someone of potential value injured. That is rather irritating."

The silence is heavy aside from the thundering rain that slaps violently against the terrain. With each moment of quiet that passes, Scaramouche seems to grow more irritable.

"You have nothing more to say?"

The soldiers do not respond. Scaramouche sighs, then lightly claps his hands together and smiles at the group.

"Since you four are clearly out of practice and in desperate need of a little exposure therapy, find me a lawachurl, defeat it, bring me back its horn. Don't come back until you do. You should be thanking me for this opportunity to grow." He orders. "If that doesn't suit your tastes, we can do this... Another way. But it won't be nearly as amusing to you."

"Y-Yes lord harbinger!" The one who spoke before bows swiftly, and practically drags his fearful team off.

Scaramouche glances at you from over his shoulder as you were left alone with him.

"Can you stand?"

Coming from him, any questions feel more akin to orders. Therefore, you begin to shift your weight entirely on the tree behind you, grabbing the trunk with a hand before Scaramouche rushes forward to support you instead. This comes as a surprise to you, but you are in no position to deny his assistance.

"I sincerely apologize... I feel lightheaded, still." You utter, as he pulls you up and allows you to put your weight on his side. His hat instantly protects you from the rain, causing you to breathe a sigh of relief. "This normally would not happen... I'm not used to defending others in battle."

"Well... If those bumbling idiots made the cut into the Fatui, I advise you to get used to it, quickly." Scaramouche said cunningly, beginning to walk you back to the campground. "I absolutely despise when they hand easy assignments to new recruits. They are not required to be here, and it always leads to me babysitting."

You can't help but smile slightly, it's not an everyday occurrence you casually converse with harbingers. Sensing the humor in his tone of voice, you just have to engage a bit.

"Ah, is that what you call sending a group of incompetent cowards off to fight large monsters? Babysitting?"

Scaramouche rolls his eyes.

"Trust me when I say that was the kindest I've ever been in this sort of situation."

As he guides you back to the campsite, your mind trails to various thoughts about how stiff and cold he is against your side. You didn't want to make too big of a deal out of the proximity with him, but it was so unexpected. It feels as though every muscle in his body is firmly tense, and his skin is noticeably cooler than the rain that you had just been nearly submerged in moments ago.

Curiously, you steal a side glance at his face as quickly as you can. It was already obvious to you that he is beautiful, but his features are so picturesque and devoid of flaws that they almost look unreal. Doll-like and hand-crafted. Something about him feels uncanny to you.

"Something on your mind?"

You're snapped out of your trance at his words, you swiftly shake your head and remain quiet the rest of the way.

When the two of you arrive at the campsite, he's quick to help you into a tent.

"Alright, rest well-"

"You're leaving again?" You instinctively cut him off.

He raises an eyebrow at your intervention.

"No, I already completed the mission while the rest of you were here." He stated. "But you should sleep, if you're going to be worth anything tomorrow."

You stare at him wordlessly for a few moments. He doesn't seem bothered by the unoccupied silence for whatever reason, but he does eventually speak up once more.

"What is it?"

You smile. "You are a rather interesting individual. I've worked for you a while, but have never gotten to speak to you one one-on-one before."

Scaramouche seems surprised at this, processing your words for a few short seconds.

"Hm? So, that's what you've been thinking of. I thought you were behaving overly placid for someone who just sustained a head injury... Alright then, I'll give you a bit of my time in compensation for working alongside amateurs today." Scaramouche nodded, joining you in the tent. He sat on his knees in front of you.

"You've got my attention. What do you wish to speak to me about?" He asks

A slight hum leaves your lips as you contemplate the confusion you felt before.

"Why are you so... Cold?"

Scaramouche almost seems amused at your words, choking back a snicker by clearing his throat.

"Well... It is raining-"

"You are much colder than the rain." You chime.

This time, he seems at a loss for words. He takes your hands in his own and brushes his chilled fingers over them.

"Why are you so warm?" He asks, an honest demeanour flickered through his eyes.

You shrug slightly.

"Metabolism? Body heat generates in organs... Like your heart."

He nods knowingly, as if you somehow managed to find the answer to the question you'd asked him with that response alone.

"Sleep well tonight, okay?" Scaramouche patted your shoulder. "I will need to make preparations for travel. Let me know if you need anything."

And just like that, he left the tent as you struggled to think of something else to say to him.

"Oh... Goodnight."

[scarasbaefy]

a thousand cranes

kabukimonos kindness.

; scaramouche/kabukimono

; something warm, g.neutral, not proof-read, taglist

note; i don’t usually (ever) write fluff or anything... but i was feeling different today.

Ⰶ 

every day, the kabukimono would leave an origami crane on your doorstep. of course, you didn’t know it was him. he’d carefully place the paper every morning before you’d wake up from your sleep. although you were confused, you couldn’t help but look forward to the small gesture.

on the 1,000th day of receiving a crane, you held the craft close to your heart, letting a smile creep onto your face for the opportunity of being able to make a wish.

you knew what you’d wish for, though. it was clear to you the moment you realized what the mystery persons motive was.

you wanted them to come forward and confess.

with the last origami in hand, you closed your eyes and whispered into the wind, “i wish to learn the identity of the person who has been leaving me these gifts.”

you were greeted by the kabukimono the moment you opened your eyes back up, jumping in fright from his unexplained presence.

the kabukimono held a kind smile. he was finally able to reveal himself after all these years of hiding behind the cranes. he was too shy to talk to you or even face you, so he decided to gift you a paper crane he had made. it was when he saw your eyes sparkle at the sight of it that he decided he wanted to continue to gift you the origami. but after all these years, he finally gained the confidence to show himself. especially after he had heard your wish. it’s only right to honor it.

you were in complete shock. when did he get here? he had never spoken to you since his discovery, so you found it odd for him to stand before you now after many years.

the questions and confusion left your mind, a smile growing on your face when he pulled out, yet another, paper crane.

Ⰶ

©2023 scarasbaefy do not copy, edit, or post my work on any platform.

taglist;  @ulquiorraswife @yevurin @lovingveliona @i-luvyuu  @x-aloeveraa-x   @mf-619lans @butterskyy 

[maehemthemisfit]

𝘊𝘈𝘕'𝘛 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘙 𝘔𝘌 ? 𝘐𝘔 𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘏𝘖𝘔𝘌.

♡𝅼  pairing : wanderer x reader

♡𝅼  content : angst + major character death + poetic format

The wind chimes always sound when he arrives at your door, carrying a gentle breeze that sways the flowers in his hands. Even though he doesn't have to, he still knocks before he enters, slipping off his shoes while announcing that he's home.

His steps are silent on the hard wooden floor as he pads to the table to add the roses to the vase. To the kitchen, he travels, taking two bags of tea, he makes his first and he brews his bitter.

He slides your cup against the counter, sugar and honey at his side. He twirls the spoon before he dips, scoping up grains to sugarcoat lies.

One spoon. Two spoons. Three spoons. Four. He takes a sip and gags at the sweetness. Five spoons. Six spoons. Seven spoons more. He decides to spare his tongue the misery again.

To the table once more he places your cup, filled to the brim with your favorite tea. His sits at the chair across from yours and glides his finger over the rim of porcelain.

"Sumeru roses?" He hears you say, and his eyes shoot up to the sight of you.

"I stumbled upon them on my way, I thought I'd replace the ones that died."

The word of death lays heavy on his tongue, and for a moment you disappear. He shakes his head and sips his cup, and once again your touch is near.

Behind his back you cup his face and place a kiss atop his head. He melts into your touch until your ghost reminds him that you're dead.

And suddenly you disappear, his vision shifts to what is true. Twenty cups across the table, filled with tea he former brewed. The sugar is spilled across the counter and honey soaked the floor. And if a raven comes they'll say his love is nevermore.

The trash is filled with piles of wilted flowers from the past. Tears drip into his bitter tea since...

"Humans never last."

He shakes his head then blinks his eyes and mutters in confusion, he remembers he had plans for tea and give in to his delusions. You must be sleep inside your room, of course! he hears you snore. He recalls that you were low on sugar, he decides to fetch some more.

Maybe he should get you flowers, perhaps your favorite kind? He tips his hat and leaves the door, and hears another chime.

listened to an edit audio and immediately had this idea, i have a version for cyno and tighnari in mind too if you guys wanna see ?

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ. ꒱ 𖥔 ° . *