#kunikuzushi genshin

[bboricha]

rule breaker

➳ 🚫 mdni ➳ pairings: college!scaramouche x afab!reader ➳ synopsis: you cannot believe that he convinced you to do this. fucking in the library again, you mean. part 1 (both can be read as standalone pieces) ➳ wc: ~700 ➳ cw: not proofread, exhibitionism, unprotected, scara has a tongue piercing, he's referred to as "kuni," lmk if i missed anything

you told him that last time this happened, it would be the only time and now look at you. sitting on his lap, hugging him close to yourself so that anyone walking by would simply write the two of you off as an overly expressive couple displaying PDA. though, it would take just a little bit of interest for anybody to realize that he’s slightly thrusting up, fucking his girthy length into your cunt as you quietly whine against his neck. a little bit of interest just to take a look at your face and see the hearts and stars fluttering over your eyes as you use his shirt to muffle your sounds.

it wasn’t your fault! you couldn’t help it! especially not when he suspiciously sat next to you and placed his hand on your thigh, rubbing the flesh and slowly moving upwards and under your skirt, playing with the hem of your panties until his hand happened to slip under. and especially not when he starts rolling your clit against the tips of his fingers, dipping another finger into your dampening hole. and when he starts abusing that gummy part that he knows you love? you just simply cannot be blamed for falling for his capable fingers and antics yet once again.

you know that the chances of someone coming to the corner where your table sat between old documents and boring manuscripts laced with dust were practically zero to none, but your heart can’t help but thump every time you hear a noise coming from somewhere other than the two of you. it was hard to stay focused on someone catching you both though, kuni made sure to keep your attention on him. he’d kiss you, nip at your neck, tease your nipples, flick your clit, or give a particularly hard thrust that almost makes you squeal. you can’t tell if that’s just him being needy or telling you that it’ll be fine and to look at him instead, but regardless it makes your heart thump in a different kind of way.

“i’m not sure what you like the best—you seem to tighten up at everything i do,” he laughs breathily. you flush at the bluntness of his words, about to pull away from the hug until he removes his hands from your hips to hug you back instead, keeping you in place. you’re about to protest when you hear voices nearing and you freeze. he puts your head down against his shoulder, holding it there when you hear footsteps quickly passing by your heart racing a mile a minute. you squeeze against him at the sound as he softly grunts in response. the footsteps are now fading and you cautiously lift your head, scoping the area to make sure the both of you are alone again.

“i really think you have a preference for this,” he smirks and you hit him.

“i swear this is really the last time we’re doing this,” you hiss, about to open your mouth again to argue more until he kisses you, shutting you up promptly. you haven’t even noticed him taking off his glasses to do so, the thought immediately interrupted by the feeling of his piercing against your own tongue. thrusting again, you moan into his mouth. he’s right, honestly. the thrill is almost irreplaceable, but you’d rather go celibate for the rest of your life than to admit that to him out of all people. all of a sudden, kuni grinds against you as you bite back a whine, clutching onto his sweater to ground yourself.

“baby,” he groans out, his voice is raspy and the sudden use of a pet name makes your cunt throb, “it’d be in your best interest to keep your eyes on me.” his thrusts are getting sloppy as he brings a hand towards your clit, rubbing fast figure eights against it. you can feel the coil in your stomach winding so much that it’s close to snapping, the sensation making it harder to contain your noises.

“where?” he asks, his pace unrelenting as you recklessly mutter “inside,” pulling his face close to yours to pull him into another kiss. he gives one last flick to your clit, making the coil snap as you convulse around his cock. holding you down against him, he releases his warmth inside of you, groaning against your neck. he breathes heavily into your shirt as you both come down from your highs quietly. you’re thinking about how to run to the bathroom to clean yourself up before anything could leak out until he opens up his dumb mouth asking,

“wanna go again?”

➳ an: inspired instantly by this. thank you to this artist for this. thank you. he is so fine. i do not know how to act.

[yelshin]

NEW KITTEN?! | MLIST | ♡

An: Rethinking my life decisions rn

Tw/Cw: Scarameow being insecure

It was a normal day for you and Kuni well not really after he heard a shocking news.

You're gonna adopt another kitten. He was sad because he thinks that you might replace him soon.

If it wasn't for your friends stupid idea you wouldn't have to feel bad be guilty while looking at the sight of your kitten sulking at the corner. 'if i need to take a punishment for hurting his feelings ill gladly take it because i deserve it.' you thought while eyeing his movements.

He rolls on the ground and hit the wall. You immediately stand up and start rubbing circles at his head while he keeps sulking; still thinking about the new kitten that you're gonna adopt "god are you okay? Do you want food? Toys? Anything to cheer you up?" You bombarded Kuni who still didn't answer you nor look at you. But your heart wasn't prepared for what will he pull.

Kuni look at you with those big eyes with his pupil becoming big as if he was begging you to not do something 'OH MY GOD I'M GONNA DIE' You eternally screamed. Trying to avoid his tempting pleading eyes "I swear you're gonna be the death of me..." You grumble, picking him up and grabbed your (empty) wallet.

"I'm sorry but pets are not allowed-" "Do i look like i CARE?" You glared at the guard who's trying to stop you from bringing Kuni inside the mall "but ma'am im just following the rules-" he keeps on insisting and then you decided to gave up... Well actually the opposite of that. "Fine then." You walked away from the mall and hid beside the building.

"if they don't allow pets, then how about this huh.." you smirked at your silly idea; putting him inside a plastic bag and put some unnecessary light weight items inside and pretend its full of your groceries. "God why am i so smart"

You walked at the building again but this time the guard doesn't care about people entering in the mall 'WOW LATELY HE'S MAKING A SCENE ABOUT BRINGING MY ANGEL IN AND NOW HE DOESN'T GIVE A FUCK IF SOME PEOPLE ENTER WITH THEIR PETS' you glared at the guard before entering the mall; ready to spend everything

"now then for the new kitten, maybe a same treatment with Kuni will do" hearing the word "new kitten" Kuni's head pop out of the plastic bag while looking at you, but you didn't seem to notice the poor kitten.

Now here you are, standing Infront of the ATM; staring at your bank accounts amount of money. Seeing a low number made you laugh at yourself nervously "haha... Did i spend too much? hahaha..." You scratch your cheek while looking around if thr coast is clear enough for you to pull your black card

'just once...' you thought but you knew that "just once" will turn into amounts of spending. Clearly not just once. "Let's just pray this shit still have money inside after what i did last month"

You checked the plastic bag thinking that Kuni was still inside,but to your horror he wasn't there. You immediately panicked and search the whole bag but still no sight of Kuni 'How am i gonna find him with this big ass mall...' you went for 10 minutes breakdown beside the ATM before gathering all of your energy and find your small kitten while praying that no one will adopt him.

Meanwhile your Kuni...

A young man with indigo hair that covers his ears, as well as indigo eyes look around the mall trying to find a glimpse of teal hair but he didn't noticed someone bump to him.

While you are busy finding your kitten you suddenly bump into someone; you apologize and the man who you bumped with reminds you of you Kuni but you quickly shook off the thoughts and apologize again "im sorry!" Before running away.

Scaramouche froze in his spot... Not only you didn't recognize him nor know about his secret (that he can turn into a human) you didn't recognize him. He muttered something before going to a empty place; transforming back into a kitten once again, on his way to find you.

You were going insane. You searched every corner, every store and even asked every person in the mall if they found your kitten. You were close to give up but not until you felt a soft fur rubbish on your feet, you looked down and almost screamed when your beloved kitten finally appeared "Thank goddess! I thought you got kidnapped!(kittennap)" You hugged your cat; promising yourself not to let him go. "Now lets head home, i heard the new kitten is already in our house!" You exclaimed and run out of the mall.

Opening the door of your house, you gently dropped kuni to the ground and immediately search for the new kitten. While you're busy roaming around your house Kuni was staring at something under the couch. He hiss at whoever or whatever creature is there hiding under the couch. Kuni stared at the glowing yellow eyes of the new kitten while displaying his sharp nails as a sign of threat.

"ah! There you are!"

An: if y'all guessed whos the new kitten i would continue this fic🤭

@thetwinkims @sunsethw4 @etherisy @kunikuzushicandegrademefr @Heiijoxz, @eliciana @naritecs @kkazuyass @itztaki @makilovescofi @louise-rosita-leroux @w9vyy @lystaaa @midoriapologist @lilithticalx @red-chester @yushiu @raideneiari @scaraapologist @kxr0mi @sakiimeo @shizunxie @yanfeimainn @just-simping-over-genshin @thenightsflower @eunchaeluvr @ohmyfinggod @misomiis @spookyqueenduck @chalksdreams

[yumenosakiacademy]

3.3 || All Senses Clear, All Existence Void

[maehemthemisfit]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄

ask — Can I ask you that the reader 💋 them while they are 😥 and 💙 in order to 😇 them, (I really hope this makes sense) Characters: Scaramouche & Xiao (This is my first time requesting something, hopefully I did it right ☠️) - requested by @oddshroom

a/n — this took me so unbelievably long to write but I'm working on my emoji asks now! okay so apparently I have no self control when it comes to writing scara so this ended up being 3k instead of 500≤1k so I'm making this separate from the xiao's. also dw love, you did it absolutely right so it was clear and concise <3

pairing — [ scaramouche x gn!reader + 💋 kissing them while they're 😥 having a nightmare and 💙 playing with their hair in order to 😇 comfort them]

edited by: my homegirl @xiao6ao

masterlist / xiao post / emoji prompt list

Since when was the melody of screams this unpleasant? Or perhaps, maybe it was never a sweet tune to begin with.

The crackling of fire howled and filled his ears, yet he watched silently as the flames ate away at the wooden structure, devouring the joyous memories he created there. Ashes sprinkled the blazing air, scurrying around like fire flies and filling his lungs.

His breathing was shallow, huffs of air spilling from his chest and reminding him of how human he seemed. But he could never be human, not when his chest was but a hollow cavern, overflowing with nothing but broken dreams and empty promises. His fingers trembled beside him, and subconsciously, he backed away from the dazzling light.

Why was he afraid? How could he be afraid? After all, he was the one who’d started the fire.

"N-No..." Scaramouche whispered, his eyes widened in disbelief as he took in the scene before him. "This... this already happened. Why am I seeing this again?" He looked to his palms— a desperate attempt at gathering his sense of self— but upon seeing his old attire, he found himself inarticulate.

This can't be. It was like he was back to being—

"Kunikuzushi," That voice... that was- "Why did you do this?" The child cried, clutching a familiar doll to his chest. It was threaded with such precision and care, casting in his mind a fond memory of the weeks he spent learning how to sew such a thing with his past friend.

Then the sight of the child’s charred skin hit him, and the endearing thought was discarded. He looked just as he did so long ago— sick, fragile.

But his eyes, oh his eyes told another story.

Scaramouche remembered his eyes, always full of wonder and curiosity, much like his own when he was just a fledgling. Those eyes that would beam up at him as the child tugged him away to a new discovery. Those eyes that would melt close as a smile formed on the child's lips. Those eyes, that were now boring holes into his own, absent of life and that childlike glee he was once accustomed to. Those eyes that were now swirling with fear, fear that was now directed at him.

"I didn't—!!" Scaramouche found himself choking, misery seeping into the depths of his chest and pouring out into his voice. He felt utterly nauseous at the sight before him, heaving breaths of uncertainty as hot tears began to spill from his indigo hues.

Shakily, he brought a hand to his mouth, searching for the words he wanted to say. "I didn't mean to... you- you broke your promise..."

The child took a step back, "Promise? What promise?" The puppet’s brows furrowed at the confusion on the child’s face, the air getting all the more jeering— threatening to strangle him— the longer they spoke.

"You said we were family. You said you would never abandon me," Scaramouche recalled. Abandon. Just the word sizzled and left a bitter taste on his tongue.

It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair at all.

“I didn’t abandon you,” the boy managed to retort, his voice scarcely a rasp. “I died!” He choked on a fit of coughs as he succumbed to the illness both his parents fell to.

Abandon… die…

Those were two completely different words, were they not? Yet, somehow, the discarded creation had found the two synonymous. The concept of death was still foreign to him all those years ago, and the timing was impeccable, as if someone were pulling the strings to all his misfortune. One betrayal after another. It was a deadly recipe of disaster that bubbled over into impulsive decisions and, finally, the roaring flames before him.

And now, he could only witness this village burn all over again— brick by brick, plank by plank— and watch the terror in the eyes of the one he called his friend, of the people he held close to where his heart should be, resurface from ashes long gone.

Damn it. It's not fair. It's not fair at all.

Another staggering step, and the flames began clawing at the child’s leg, searing deeper into his already charred skin. "Wait! Please!" Scaramouche shouted, lunging forward towards the kid now set ablaze and embraced in the wild, untamed fire. “Don’t leave me—" No, not “—again.”

But it was all in vain. He pleaded. He cried. He called, yet no one came.

His fingers crossed the child's, the doll slipping from the child's grasp and into the desperate puppet's hands. And without skipping a beat, the child burst into cinders before his eyes.

The ground kissed his knees as he collapsed, trembling hands digging into the veil that did little to shield him from the raging light. Within seconds, it was torn to shreds and soaked in the tears that he bled.

He wept, voice barely above a whisper. "Why couldn't it have been me…" Those tears, those pathetic emotions he harbored, why couldn't they stop? Why did it hurt so bad? Why did everyone leave him?

A dry, forced chuckle passed his lips that were drenched with the downpour from his eyes. He wiped them.

"Maybe I am just some faulty being." He looked up at the stars that watched in silence above him, ignoring his pleas for help. Gods… humans… even the stars were nothing but lies.

It was only then that a sensation ran down his neck, causing him to flinch from the sudden sense of touch. He whimpered despite trying his best not to, yet what he felt wasn't in the slightest unpleasant.

He leaned into it, eyes growing heavy with whatever was circling his skin, the pain that drenched him before growing numb as the flow of his tears drew softly to a stop. He felt small, yet safe under this eerie yet familiar touch, like an angel was embracing him and shielding him away from the tragedies that plagued the world.

A trickle of hope poured into him, flooding a soothing warmth through the chest that had been poisoned by a twisting ache. His fist unraveled the tattered veil, his hands now clinging onto something more plush and soft, though he couldn't see.

It told him he was fine. He was safe. He was sound.

Sound?

The air caught his mind, now devoid of the screams that smothered him just moments before. Even the crazed laments of the fire ceased, replaced by the quiet pitter patter of falling droplets— none of which he felt.

What he did feel was something soft showering his face, warm and featherlike, and another delicate touch swaying back and forth over his cheek, creating a peaceful harmony within his settling mind.

Despite the heaviness in his limbs, he pulled himself closer, his legs rubbing against silky fabric instead of the ashened ground of what had once been his home. His arms drew himself closer against whatever was bringing him comfort, the sound of something beating surprisingly washing away the rest of his worries. He drifted far away from the panic that once overcame him, the raging storm in his head now reduced to calm waves of water, carrying him safely back to reality into the arms of an angel.

His eyes, tired and spent, fought to open. His vision made out from blurring colors the sight of another person laying beside him. They leaned into him, and he felt the same featherlike sensation on his forehead. A voice he recognized— he had yet to decipher the words— filled his ears.

It was…

Before his eyes could fully adjust, he was already curling against your chest, fingers softly grabbing your shirt and tugging like his life depended on it. In an instant, the world came rushing in, his lungs breathing in the calming air of the small apartment you shared.

He was fine. He was safe. He was with you.

He called your name, his voice cracking as a groan slipped past him, muffled by his face pressing into you. Memories of his nightmare crashed back in restless waves, threatening to drown him once again. He coughed, attempting to speak through labored breaths.

"I s-saw… my, I-'' Scaramouche hiccuped, his body starting to shake like the harsh winters of Snezhnaya was biting through his porcelain skin.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay, take your time.” You were quick to silence him, whispering affirmations in the mist of night for only his ears to hear. He clutched onto you tighter. “It’s okay love, I’m here.”

After the countless years of suffering the puppet endured, he wasn’t fond of being touched by any living being— at least, not after all the torturous poking and prodding he was subjected to during Dottore’s experiments, whilst promises of “making him stronger” or “unlocking his true divinity” fell on deaf ears as he withered in pain.

But you? He couldn’t help but melt under your irenic touch, something that was foreign to him for decades. It took awhile for him to adjust to your displays of affection, but eventually your arms became his new safe haven, something that was all apparent now as you rubbed gentle strokes against his back, the sobs that were born from his horrid dream now dying down to soft sniffles and hums.

The moon glowed in all its glory in the blanket of night, illuminating the two lovers cuddled closely together like birds in a nest. Its silver glow became sparkles in the stray tears that spilled over his cheeks, your hands calmly wiping them as they fell. He came to realize over some time that the featherlike touches he felt prior were you pressing kisses to his face.

The moon came and fled as the sun put it to rest, painting the darkened skies in shades of blue and red. Its rays glimmered, peaking through the window and shedding its warmth on the both of you. By then, the wandering puppet’s tear stained cheeks were dried, his breathing leveled, and eyes half lidded, swirling with bouts of serenity.

Your hand was idly playing with his hair, gently combing through and dividing pieces that fell across his face. A comfortable silence filled the air, only penetrated by the whisper that flew past your lover’s lips, calling your name. You hummed as his hand slowly crept from under the covers, reaching out to grab yours from his strands and bringing it to his chest. His warm breath tickled your skin when he sighed, the feeling being overthrown when his lips kissed the back of your palm, lingering for nearly a minute.

“Do you…” He spoke softly, still firmly holding onto you, yet his voice sounded far off, eyes distant and hazy. “Do you think I’m evil?”

The question dripped from his lips like dew to a leaf, dropping into your ears for your brain to soak it in. Melancholy sprouted from it, growing vines that entangled your heart.

The word evil ran through your head, such a harsh term to describe someone, you scrutinized. Could you really compare the word to the former harbinger lying across from you? Perhaps his past actions, but…

Do evil people cry genuine tears? Do evil people feel remorse for their wicked deeds? What truly defines evil anyway?

The fluttering of wings fanned your clouded thoughts, your answer becoming clear along with the sound of birds chirping. You tugged at the vines clenching your heart, ripping them with ease as you looked at the man in question.

“Doing good things doesn’t make you a good person,” you imparted, staring honestly into his alluring eyes. He listened intently as you spoke, hanging off of every word like a puppet to a string. “And doing bad things doesn’t make you a bad person either.”

The foggy look in his eyes finally cleared.

“I think you experienced the worst parts of the world before you could understand the beauty of it, which led to your notorious doings.” You adjusted your hand to hold his, and he gave you a gentle squeeze as your thumb caressed circles into his. “But if we look back to your ‘previous incarnation’ without your memories, or your titles before Balladeer, would you call them evil as well? Would the people who knew you then describe you in such a way?”

The question floated in the air. A quizzical frown assuming the puppet’s features. For a second, he was back in his dream again— images of fire and ash tainting his mind. He remembered those eyes that were swirling with fear, anxiety threatening to crawl up his spine again.

He was fine. He was safe. He was…

“I didn’t abandon you,” The child's voice played back in his head, oddly sounding more soft compared to the voice he heard in his dream. Another recollection filled his thoughts— it was the sight of the child pulling him eagerly, a wide grin adorning his chubby cheeks, a giggle followed by his own filling the air as he allowed the kid to guide him to some growing lavender melons.

"I- I can't reach it. Awhh," The child pouted, looking away from the tree dejectedly.

"They are pretty high up," Scara- no, Kunikuzushi observed, bringing a hand to his chin. "You'll be able to reach them if I give you a lift though."

"Really? Oh thank you, thank you, thank you! You're really the best ya know, and d-don't forget it either!" The child cheered, jumping up and down in his small burst of excitement before calming down. He tired easily, no matter what he did.

"I'm the best? But I'm just a mere—"

The small mortal coughed weakly, balling his fist right after and shouting a heartfelt declaration. "Puppet this, puppet that. You're a good person and you're a good friend. There's no if, ands, or buts about it,"

He couldn't help but reciprocate the child's smile.

"I- I guess you have a point," Kunikuzushi hummed, his face blooming a pretty pink as he tried to hide under his veil. "You know… you sound a lot like an old friend of mine.”

The memory faded as quick as it came, his shoulders now relaxed and expression thoughtful. You assumed he reached the same answer as you.

They wouldn't call him evil. Never in a million years.

“I couldn’t either," You answered his thoughts, bringing your hand back to card through his hair. "Which is why I don't think you're the monster you make yourself out to be."

He wanted to laugh, but he found himself without a voice. All those questions he aimlessly sought answers to. He’d even asked the God of Wisdom the same thing, yet her answer was quite different from yours. But could he really take your words to heart— or hold it above the words of a god? Would her answer change if he asked her again? Would your answer change if he wronged you?

He was fine. He was safe. He was good.

The sounds of rain dwindled as the critters of light rustled away, chirping and hollering to the sun’s presence. By now, its light blanketed you both, whisking off the drowsiness as you rubbed your eyes. You were in the midst of calling your lover’s name when his fingers wrapped around your leg, pulling it over his hip to bring you close once again.

He cupped your face, your eyes instinctively closing as his lips embraced yours, the warmth of his touch enough to rival the sun and the shine of the moon. No celestial body could reap what the two of you had sown beautifully together.

You held his past, present, and future, carried his vices and virtues, wiped his tears and tore down his walls even when he built them up too high.

You stayed, even when he couldn't give you his heart.

He was enough, you reminded him proudly each day. He was safe. He was fine. He was loved.

"I love you," Scaramouche found himself mumbling against your lips, breathing out a content sigh when the two of you finally parted.

It was the first time he initiated such a declaration, and while he'd never admit how much it affected him, the shy smile carved into his face spoke it well enough. His passionate gaze lit a thousand flames in your soul and it was your turn to fall into the rabbit hole of his beauty.

With another quick kiss, you touched your foreheads together, your voice a lullaby to his ears as you chimed the words that always made him feel something skip a beat in his chest.

"I love every part of you, and never forget that," you huffed, feigning a pouty expression to entice a smile— which he effortlessly gave.

"Don't worry, I won't," he laughed heartily this time, making an effort to find your hand and intertwining your pinkies. He brought them to his chin, pecking the side of your hand once more. "I promise."

TAGLIST — @sonder-paradise @96jnie @scaramouchenumber1fan @linn-a-a @wisteriaflowersss @ineriris @yesntforno @serramii @shadowmist0706 @jmgrule @imeanwatever @c00kie-cat @xtodorokismistressx @ieathairs @endlessmari @strawberryclumsy @serenity-ren-bliss

reblogs appreciated (⁠っ⁠.⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠っ

[genshin-scenarios]

Adopt a Wanderer: Introduction [Part 1]

Summary: By which you’re going about your normal day irl, and a certain character from genshin gets isekaied into your world. (The rest will be explained as you read!)

Note: This is meant to be a found-family series with Scaramouche, who you address as Kuni in this AU! Mostly meant to be interpreted as platonic. (Any romance will probably be in a sequel, so at most he’d just develop a puppy-crush on you that doesn’t go anywhere in the current series.)

If you like the idea of ‘pre-betrayals Scaramouche’, this AU might be for you! 💜

>> Part 2

When a person you’ve only seen inside of a video game suddenly appears before you in-real-life, you’re understandably confused and in slight denial about what’s happening right now.

On your way to get groceries, you came across a familiar-looking figure wandering the area outside of your home. Upon closer inspection you realized that it looked like a character from a game you played - and most importantly, he didn’t look like just any elaborate cosplayer, but was observing the darkened neighborhood with a sort of intrigue and wonder too genuine to ignore. 

How could you have left him, clutching a golden plume to his chest as he walked, alone when it was about to get dark out?

“I’m dreaming, right?” You mutter to yourself while you paced around your living room; luckily, you’ve just moved into a new place and have no roommate - but with Scaramouche standing in the corner right now, arms crossed as he watches you have a breakdown - your home suddenly feels much smaller than it is. Or maybe it’s your urge to run out of the door as if he was some creature instead of a person. “I’m dreaming. You’re not real.”

“I…” Scaramouche– No, Wanderer? Or Kunikuzushi, based on his outfit that matched the one you watched in his backstory cutscene weeks ago; for a game. That’s entirely fictional. He looks up at you, concerned about your obvious panic but also slightly hurt that you seemed to be avoiding him. “Thank you for giving me shelter, but… If you’re afraid of me, I won’t be offended if you ask me to leave.”

His indigo eyes avert their gaze to the side, trying not to startle you further. Despite everything, the sight of him like this softens your heart just enough to calm yourself down. “Sorry, I’m just… I was really surprised to see you there. You looked really familiar, and you turned out to be lost, so–” You stop yourself from rambling, reminding yourself that even if this was a character that just came out of another world, they might not be the same person that you know of. “Could you tell me about yourself? And where you came from?”

Seeing hesitation flicker across his face, you give him a smile and walk to your kitchen to boil some water. “Why don’t we talk about this over tea?“ When he nods, you gesture for him to follow. “You can come watch if you want. It’d be pretty boring to just wait over there.”

When he does join you and trail after your steps, you smile despite yourself, noting how graceful his movements are even from a simple action like this. After the tea is done and you both settle down at your dining table, you pick up a pen and paper, writing the name you’ve decided to call him at the very top.

“Alright, Kuni.” You try to sound as positive as possible, keeping your nerves buried for his sake. When he’d told you that he didn’t have a name, theories already began swimming through your mind. “You can start now - I’ll hear you out even if it might sound a little crazy, so go ahead!” Considering how he’s here in the first place, your expectations for the norm are completely gone.

After a moment of sorting out his thoughts, Kuni divulges a summary of his history before he got here:

He was left at a pavilion by his mother.

He mostly lived within that place for a while, before wandering out to explore more of what was outside.

He had no name, but the land he was born in was Inazuma, the nation of eternity.

No, he has not befriended anyone specific since exploring outside. You’re the first person that he’s become this familiar with– in the sense of entering their abode and all. Everyone else remained at a point of conversing outside before they went home.

After he fell asleep one day, he woke up in the park nearby (in your world), and wandered around a little before running into you.

From what you could tell, this meant that the Scaramouche– No, Kuni that you knew right now, had not experienced any of his backstory yet.

Which means… The boy that stands before you now, curiously observing the interior of your home, had not suffered the worst of his lore.

For an overwhelmingly unknown reason, this knowledge makes your heart ache. And seeing as neither of you knew of a way to send him back to his world, all you could do for now was…

“If you’re alright with it, you could live with me?” You blurt out, before catching yourself to elaborate quickly. “Not necessarily as a permanent thing! Just until we figure out how to get you home.”

Something lights up in his eyes - close to hope. “Are you alright with that?” You’ll accept me?

“Of course!” You reach out your hand for him to shake, giving him an encouraging nod. “I can’t promise to provide the best since I’m just living alone right now, but I can at least afford to let you stay for a while.”

“I– I’ll help out in any way I can!” He wraps your hand in both of his as he gives you that promise. “As long as it’s within my ability… I don’t know much, but I can learn in order to lessen your burden.”

Is this really the same guy that insults and glares at people in the game? “I’ll be counting on you, then.” You smile - genuinely, for the first time tonight. You’re not sure why, but seeing Kuni like this makes you want to cheer him on. “Let’s take care of each other, alright?”

Once a puppet that shed tears upon its making - Kuni experiences a warm, wholehearted elation for the first time. Weeks later, he finds words befitting of the emotion; joy, gratitude, hope.

>> Part 2

[chickenparm]

Where You Willed the Moon - Pt. One

AO3 Link Next Part

Scaramouche/f!Reader (reader is the traveler, but not lumine) 10,756 Words - NSFW Unhealthy Codependence, Enemies to Lovers, P in V, f!Receiving Oral, Thigh Riding, Mentions of m!Losing Virginity, Pining, Bullshit Sereniteapot Magic, sub-ish Scara when it counts :^)

Spoilers for the Sumeru story, and spoilers for 3.2 based off leaks.

(written pre-3.2)

---

The sound of metal hitting the floor is eerily similar to the tolling of bells over Monstadt. Ones that call the populace to the cathedral - those who practice, that is. While you hadn’t been much to worship Barbatos after puzzling out Venti and his identity, it’s a different sort of church that you kneel at now. 

One made of crumbling metal and stray static, enough to set the hair on your arms on edge. Your fingertips touch the metal floor and with it comes the zapping of loose electro. You’re far enough away from the residual pools of water and towering cryo structures that you can almost forget what’s brought you here. 

The ignorance is shattered in seconds by the sound of a choking sob, one ripped through teeth in a fit of fury and heartbreak. 

“Not like this… not like this…!”

Your knees scrape against the floor painfully, though it’s miniscule compared to the pains you feel elsewhere in the aftermath of this worship. You’re wholly unconvinced that this is the sort of prayer that he’d been hoping for. Wishing for. 

Demanding of you as metal arms towered over you in a threat of total annihilation if you simply didn’t concede.

The helmet of the metal monstrosity lays in jagged ruins at the center of the room, an altar for you to prostrate in front of if you hadn’t emerged the victor. Your fingers curl over the side as you crawl through the wreckage, hauling yourself up and over the lip to fall next to the prone figure inside. 

Your own body gives out as you collapse on your side, facing Scaramouche’s broken expression as his limbs lay dormant, body spent after expending the entirety of his less than holy divinity in the battle he’d lost. All you can hear is the sound of his heart breaking and his nails digging into the steel and metal that encases the two of you now. 

For a brief moment, as you slide down into the cradle and land so, so close to him, you’re taken aback by the sight of him curled on his side. Like a bug almost, squashed without a care. Without a thought. But you’ve thought about him far too often for this battle to have been meaningless. As meaningless as a simple showdown between some generic good versus generic evil could be, you suppose.

For a moment, it seems as if the world no longer exists. The structure rises and curves inward enough that only an oval of ceiling is visible. There are cracks far, far above from the stress of your clash. One hand clutches over his chest, cradling the place over his heart if not for the way his knuckles and tendons strain at his skin with the force of it. The arm attached to the shoulder he’s laying on is stretched out as if to reach toward you.

His words speak the opposite, all but screamed as his teeth gnash with every syllable. “Get away from me, you… you worthless-… GET AWAY-”

“Stop that.”

Your response isn’t elegant. It isn’t the proper way to speak to a God, especially not one that had held himself so highly above others that he never saw the one coming from below to strike him down. Now you’re on equal levels, cocooned in metal and darkness as static spits back and forth. 

“It’s done.”

“Not like this.” His voice wavers as he repeats himself. Then once more, even weaker, “...not… like this.”

“That’s enough, Scara-”

“I’ll say when it’s enough! Get up and face me!”

It would be far more convincing if you weren’t staring at his visage, watching as a thick stream of tears travel across the bridge of his nose, into his temple, and soaking the indigo hair that’s dampened with blood from a gash across his hairline. With a weak hand, you absently reach forward to push the hair from his forehead and judge that the wound isn’t so deep. 

If his hair weren’t matted with sweat and tears and his absurdly dark lifeblood, you’re certain it would feel like silk against your fingertips. You rub a lock between them anyway, just for the sake of touching him in a way that isn’t outwardly malicious. 

His head jerks back, the hair slipping from your fingers as he does so, and you’re greeted with an expression of pure loathing. It’s disgust that colors him as his lip curls and he sneers at your audacity. At what in particular is unclear. Certainly you’ve done a lot today to earn his ire; tenderness may just be the most heinous of all your transgressions.

But he can’t fight you anymore. Not while he’s so exhausted that he can barely shift his head. You’re certain he’s only awake now out of an endless well of spite and rage, borne of a lifetime threaded with consistent disappointment and betrayal. You’d seen his memories, you’d witnessed the wrongs committed against him. One after another, interspersed with moments in-between that showed you who he might have been had things just been different.

At the time, you’d carefully schooled your features in fury against him. But on the inside, you nurtured a twisted sort of understanding. You’d be just like him, if things had gone differently. Your powers stripped away, your only family is far beyond your reach, and somewhere out there is a goddess that wronged you in so many ways.

It’s this kinship that leads you to reach for him once more, dirty fingers dragging against a cheek that you’d thought was made of porcelain at one point. No being has the divine right to be crafted so beautifully, especially not one made of flesh. Yet here he lays, sucking a startled breath through his grit teeth as you sweep away tears and blood. 

“It’s alright now.” The words crack around the thickness in your throat, brought on by exhaustion and your own welling emotions. “We’re done.”

“We? We’re nothing.” It’s a snake’s hiss, but the fangs are long gone. “All of this is nothing. All my work, everything I’ve done…”

“That’s not fair to yourself to discount everything. I always thought you were the kind of person to turn a blind eye to your failure-”

A bitter laugh leaves him, the smile that accompanies it is ugly and twisted, filled with the tang of bitterness far worse than one should have from a simple defeat. The world is silent. The electro has sputtered out, the groaning of metal settling has finished, and all you’re left with is your own heart pounding in your ears and the ragged sounds of Scaramouche’s frantic breathing. 

Off in the distance, one of the pillars of cryo cracks and groans, the residual heat in the room from Scaramouche’s errant use of pyro created an environment unfitting for ice. It will take time for them to truly melt on their own, but they protest under the pressure nonetheless. In the remains of the metal body, it’s almost frigid. 

“You’ve seen it. I know you have. If it wasn’t leading to this moment, to my victory… then what was the purpose of it all? Why would the gods have deemed it right to leave me broken three times?”

Four, actually, if you’re to count this time. You decide not to.

His real name settles at the tip of your tongue as you fight the instinct to call him such. It’s found a home in your mind since you’d suffered his memories, warping your perception of him from one of distaste to empathy. Like it or not, you understand him now. Perhaps more than anyone else could.

Another shaking breath fills his lungs, and for a moment he holds it as if he’s not quite ready to let go. Then, all at once as if he’d been punched, it leaves him in a harsh sob that turns the twisted expression he wears into something far more heart wrenching. Rage and fury is gone, and to take its place is despondency so deep it takes your breath away. 

And with that cry comes another, wetly forced from the back of his tongue as it catches on phlegm and his own spittle. Just before his eyes clench shut, Scaramouche looks at you with a gaze that suddenly seems far younger than it had moments ago. Hopelessness, pain, fear. You recognized it painfully from the moment he’d entered the hut and witnessed the beginning of his third betrayal.

“If it was all for nothing, what do I have to continue on for? If you have even a shred of mercy in your body left for me, then end it now.”

Instantly, before you can consider the ramifications of his request, you deny it. “No.”

“Then you’re far more cruel than I ever gave you credit for.” From the first syllable, his voice cracks until he’s left whispering the words. Resignation is a poor fit on him. You’re unwilling to let him continue to hold it close to himself. 

Shuffling closer, until you’re nearly nose-to-nose with him,you feel the absence of his body heat that would surely be there with a human. Your fingers glide from his cheek to his hair once more, pushing it all from his forehead once, then twice, over and over in a soothing motion that he visibly melts into. Not so long ago - seconds, really - he would have fought against this. Now, he leans into your touch as if it’s the only thing keeping him pieced together. 

“Scaramouche.”

His body stills, but he refuses to open his eyes to acknowledge you. While he claims you’re merciless, you have enough kindness to give him a few moments longer of your comfort before you try again. “Kunikuzushi.”

“...Hm?”

“Would you like to try again?”

“No, I’m not sure I’d be able to put up as much of a fight the second time.”

“That’s not what I meant.” You can’t help the curl of your smallest smile as you lean close enough for your forehead to press firmly against his own. It’s clammy and sticky with his blood, nearly cementing the two of you together as one. That wouldn’t be so bad, you think. 

“If I took you away from here, would you trust me not to betray you?”

The answer doesn’t come. Only the steady press of his skull against your own, harder and harder until it just toes the line of beginning to hurt. 

Only then does he shakily breathe out, “No.”

With a bitter smile of your own, you push yourself onto your hands, then your knees to pull him into your lap. Blood rushes in your ears at the shift in position, and your wooziness lasts for only a moment before you’re back in control. When your vision clears, you realize rather quickly that your fingers clutch to him a little too hard - he never even flinched.

Trust or not, you’ll take him anyway. 

—

Explaining the destruction of Scaramouche is easier. Convincing everyone of your honesty is even moreso. 

Why would you lie? Scaramouche was your enemy, the mastermind behind everything that’s happened in Sumeru. The samsara, the expedited withering of Irminsul, the foul actions of the Akademiya… All of it would be attributed to Scaramouche, if the presence of Dottore hadn’t been confirmed by multiple witnesses. 

With one harbinger dead and the other having taken flight with the Dendro Archon’s gnosis, the only enemy that remains is one consisting of the sages that had knowingly assisted in the Fatui’s deeds. There are no monsters to fight, no evil to thwart in martial combat, and thus you state your intentions to take some time to rest. 

At first, it made you nauseous. Being pulled through time and space is unpleasant to the uninitiated, but multiple trips for both yourself and the adepti have left you more than experienced in managing the sensations. 

All you see are stars. Streaking past you in a blinding array that leaves you breathless every time you witness it. Your little pocket dimension is somewhere unknown within the fabric of reality, yet you can almost recognise the patterns that shoot past you so quickly they’re gone in the blink of an eye. 

Aether may feel like home, but your feet hitting the cobblestones of your teapot home is a close second. 

While there are storage buildings scattered across your land, only one truly dominates the skyline with its shimmering tiles and sturdy dark wood. A wall surrounds it, but it’s purely for aesthetic reasons - who could invade you here, when permission is required to enter? Brute force would never succeed. 

It’s instinct to call on Tubby to tell you of happenings in your absence, yet this time you refrain. There is another here, and while you’re unsure of the exact amount of time that’s passed between this realm and reality, you’re almost certain he’s exactly where you left him. The door to your home groans open - the only sound that interrupts the careful silence. 

In the entryway, you kick your shoes off to avoid damaging the tatami, and make your way to the second floor. The stairs barely shift under your weight thanks to Tubby’s meticulous upkeep, meaning your presence will go unnoticed if he happens to be on edge. 

But your subterfuge is entirely for naught. As you slide the door open and step into what you’ve claimed as your bedroom, you take in the sight of Scaramouche still unconscious in your bed, even as the sun shafts illuminate the high cheekbones and furrowed brows of his face. 

With little more than a thought, the sun shifts across the sky until it sits low on the painted horizon, just above the stylized waves that surround your home. The light no longer beats against his face, instead casting the room in a warm glow that almost makes the air feel thick. In the distance, you hear those very waves as you nudge one of the windows open to allow a breeze to shift through. 

At first, you’d expected to need to provide medical aid. You’d been prepared to fight him on it, up until he passed out in your arms before you brought him here. Tubby had done most of the work - bringing him from the threshold of your home, cleaning most of the blood off, changing him into something that didn’t smell of smoke and ash and whatever remained of his dreams of grandeur. 

Without the trappings of his harbinger uniform, Scaramouche looked far less menacing in shades of azure and green. It stood in contrast to his hair that was still matted - Tubby couldn’t do everything without thumbs, you supposed. 

Hunger claws at your naval, but you’re far more preoccupied with sitting halfway at his side and picking through the mess of his hair with a fine-toothed comb. It doesn’t take at long as you thought it would, and isn’t nearly a long enough excuse for you to be in his space like this. 

The implications of your need to be here make your skin crawl. You retract your hands so quickly that the comb clatters to the floor with the sound of wood on wood. Scaramouche doesn’t stir, at least to your knowledge, and you take the time to rise from the bed and reach for the abandoned object. 

A vice clamps around your wrist, holding you in place with a grip tight enough that it’s certain to bruise. It takes all your strength to rip your arm away and stand from the bed. Scaramouche looks at you with half-lidded eyes and a haziness to his gaze. A thud follows his hand hitting the bed once you’re bereft of him. 

A long breath leaves him at first, as if he’s testing his lungs and reassuring himself that they’re still functional. After a swallow that reaches your ears with its sound, Scaramouche tries again to reach for you. All that leaves his mouth is, “Don’t leave.”

And against all your instinct to leave, your desire to stay wins. The bed dips as you sit at his side once more, a careful distance away with your hands in your lap. The lacing of your fingers is so tight that your knuckles are as pale as bone with the pressure. 

Scaramouche doesn’t look away, even as his gaze grows hazy with its focus. It’s not clear he understands who you are as one of his hands reach out and tangle in the fabric of the clothes across your back. “You left before.”

“I had to make sure no one was going to question anything.”

Pale lips quirk into the smallest smile, just for a single second. It leaves as soon as it comes, the quickness in stark contrast to the slow way he blinks up at you - weariness incarnate, it seems. “I woke up and all that was here was your… little bird.”

“Tubby. That’s it’s name.”

“It’s a stupid name.”

Scaramouche is feeling better, it seems. The lacerations he once sported have knit themselves shut, the bruises have turned from fresh red and blue to a sickly green akin to the sky before a storm at sundown. Your skin beneath his grasp is alight with far too many sensations, goosebumps traveling along your arms. 

Scaramouche zeroes in on them, and there’s that twisted little smirk again that stays far longer. Blessedly, he doesn’t say a thing about them. Perhaps he can be a benevolent god, when he wants to be. 

“I need to go for a little longer-”

“I said stay.”

“I need to eat, Scaramouche.”

The name makes him flinch, his hand falling to the bed and leaving you bereft of his grip. A yearning little part of you misses it fiercely. Fear isn’t the right word when you pinpoint how wrong it is for you to have become attached like this, yet after having learned so much of his life in the span of moments, you feel an involuntary kinship that colors all your thoughts of him. 

His reaction to the name isn’t explained. While most of him is tucked beneath the blankets of your bed, the hand that had been touching you lays above them with his palm to the sky and his fingers clenched into a loose fist. They only clench tighter as he pointedly looks up at the rafters and says, “Don’t come back, then.”

That strikes at you. His petulance is completely unwarranted, and you’re helpless to your own urge to plant your hands on your hips and call him out on it. “Make up your mind. Do you want me to stay, or do you want me to leave you alone? I’m going to have Tubby make up a second bedroom. Then you can hide out in there if you want to be a child.”

“I’m not-” With one movement, Scaramouche pushes himself up on a hand to sit up. His elbow shakes with the effort, clearly not up to the task of moving so quickly just yet. A sick sense of pride shoots through you with how solidly you’ve beaten him. Through grit teeth, he continues, “You’re the one coming and going as you please.”

“What’s gotten into you?” 

Scaramouche flinches at your hiss, avoiding you all over again, judging by the stubborn set of his brow. Just like him, you’re exhausted, and you don’t have the time nor energy to entertain his whims right now. With purpose, you turn your head and call for your teapot spirit. In a dusting of tiny fireworks and drifting petals, Tubby appears and opens their beak to begin bombarding you with everything they’ve been waiting to say. 

And you’ll give them that when you have time, but for now you hold a finger to your lips and they get the hint. Folding the sleeves of their robes together, Tubby listens as you ask, “Can you bring me something to eat? It doesn’t matter what, don’t trouble yourself too much.”

“Of course! Give me a little time, and I’ll have something splendid for you!”

Your request to not go out of their way is entirely lost to the empty spaces in the room as they disappear. Blowing out a long sigh that feels too much like resignation, you carefully sit on the side of Scaramouche’s bed, your back turned to him and your hands on your knees to brace yourself. When Tubby comes back, you’ll get them working on that second room.

In the meantime, the hand along your spine returns, this time splayed out with a palm pressing firmly against you. It’s a simple touch, one that you close your eyes and relish now that he can’t quite see your face. The expectant moment lingers with a quiet anticipation before Scaramouche breaks it without remorse.

“Why did you do it?”

“Bring you here?” Shuffling behind you, and you assume it’s a nod. “Would you believe me if I said I empathize with you?”

“One little peek at my memories, and we’re suddenly friends now? You feel sorry for me?”

“Is that so bad?” Your head turns so you can look at him out of the corner of your eye. Though he’d been quiet and restrained, it’s clear that there’s fury bubbling beneath the surface that you now must quell. “I think we’re more alike than you realize. Yes, I felt sorry because you never deserved any of that, even after all the problems you’ve caused as a result.”

“I’m not some good guy under all this, you know. I’m not putting on some front to trick you - this is who I am.”

Behind your eyelids, you see him in white, curled in the cavernous wooden halls of his domain and clutching himself in the mockery of a hug. Tears run down his cheeks, one after another, in a constant stream of loneliness and despondency. Perhaps that isn’t him anymore, but neither is this tyrant that’s bent on the divinity he was meant to receive. 

“It’s not. We change through our lives, but I don’t think even you know who you are now.”

“I still don’t trust you.” It’s said as a barb, a last ditch effort to snipe at you when he’s at a loss for words. That’s all you need to confirm that you’re right - Scaramouche is lost and adrift all over again. Eccentric wanderer from Inazuma indeed. 

Tubby returns with your food - a simple fare of cheeses and meats that you consume quickly. Scaramouche doesn’t partake as he stubbornly turns on his side and turns his back to you. Whether it’s in derision for your offer, or he’s still petulant that you backed him into a corner, you’re unsure. Either way, you expect this to be an uncomfortable affair. 

When there are only crumbs left on the plate that Tubby brought, you chew the inside of your cheek to stifle a yawn. While there isn’t another bed, you’re certain you can find a futon in one of the storage houses that dot your little estate. It’ll do for now if you toss it in the other room with tatami flooring. 

Rising to your feet, you stretch your hands to the rafter as if to grasp them, working at the hunched muscles you’d been nursing for a little too long now. The blood rushing in your ears nearly drowns out Scaramouche’s question. “Where are you going? I told you to stay.”

“You also told me to leave, so which is it? I need to get some rest.”

“...Stay.”

Great, that solves that, but you still need to find somewhere to rest. As if he read your mind and pinpointed the exact thing you’d cave to, Scaramouche blindly reaches behind him and flips the blanket back. It’s an open invitation that your hands are tied about - obviously he expected you to take it. 

With not nearly as much hesitance as you expected, you blow air from your cheeks and turn to your dressing screen to change. If he insists… then who are you to deny him? Ditching your adventuring clothes is an affair that’s far quicker than you’ve ever done before, and even as you return to him in only a few minutes, he’s still waiting expectantly. This time on his back, one hand across his heart as the other picks through his hair while noting the tidiness of the strands despite the remnants of your battle clinging to them. 

Scaramouche doesn’t say anything about it, and neither will you. 

The bed dips as you slide in, keeping a careful distance between yourselves as you mirror his position on your back. The bed normally smells like you, but now it carries some odd mixture of yourself and the male besides you. You’re not quite sure if you like it or not. 

“Are you a vampire? A mummy, perhaps?”

“What?”

“I only ask because sleeping like that only comes from being a stiff, undead creature.”

Rolling your head to the side to look at him, you realize you hate Scaramouche’s attempts at humor. There’s no smile on his face, but the tension at the corner of his eyes has melted away, leaving something serene and… nearly happy in its absence. 

Scowling with indignance, you roll on your side until you’re facing him and fix him with that expression unimpeded. It does nothing to bother him, and you’re startled by a laugh. High pitched and breathy as he takes in your irritated compliance. “Is that so bad? Alright then, go to sleep.”

“You first. I need to make sure you’re not going to strangle me.”

“I could just be pretending. Then the moment you start to dream, I’ll wrap my hands around your pretty throat and squeeze until you’re blue.”

“Not if I break out of your hold and strangle you first. I bet you turn an ugly shade of red while you’re wheezing.”

There’s that laughter again, high and manic as he gives you a twisted little grin. There’s no humor in it, only a pleased sort of madness as he meets you blow-for-blow. “I bet you’d beg. ‘Please, Scaramouche-’” 

“Maybe I’ll let you start the suffocation early so I die faster and don’t have to listen to your sad attempts at humor.”

Scaramouche turns until he’s facing you, mirroring your own position as his hands fall in the space between your bodies. You can’t help but let your eyes turn to them, taking note of long, thin fingers whose nail beds are still caked with blood that Tubby couldn’t quite get to. As he notices your gaze, his fingers twitch before they spread open, wiggling pointedly as if to demand something of you. 

All you have to offer is your own hand, but it seems as if that’s what he wanted all along. His palms are cold, just as the rest of him is, but he seems to relish in the warmth you hold in turn with how he lets out a nearly inaudible, shuddering sigh. 

“I won’t strangle you. I’ve decided to keep you.”

“You’re the one in my home.”

He has nothing to say to that. Instead, he squeezes your fingers together with his own and lets his eyelids droop - an acquiescence of a stalemate between the two of you and the mocking attempts at one another’s life. When indigo lashes brush the top of his cheeks and a long sigh leaves his nose, he finally speaks to you. 

“I still don’t trust you.” But I’ll try. 

The implication isn’t lost on you, as much as you’d like to disbelieve it. This moment is proof of him giving in, even if it’s only a few scant centimeters. The end result is unclear, but you’re content with chipping away toward it for as long as he’ll let you. 

—

“How you ever managed to be such a thorn in my side is beyond me.”

Cracking an eye open, you look up at Scaramouche as he looms over you, blocking out the sun that’s been hanging high in the sky for far too long. He’s like an eclipse, and the rays bloom from behind his head like a halo. You wonder if he’s aware of himself, or if it’s unknown to him the exact amount of natural transcendence he carries like a second skin. 

On its own accord, your mouth opens to ask just that, yet he cuts you off by planting his hands on his knees to bend down closer. The trailing sleeves of his haori brush at the grass near your ears, caging you in and tunneling your vision toward the one thing you haven’t been able to look away from. There’s no need to draw your attention when his gravity is inescapable.

“How many times have I agonized over your meddling in Sumeru, and you were laying in the grass somewhere just like this?”

More than you’d like to admit, probably. At least while you were in the forested lands. In the desert, you were all business as Cyno nearly dragged you by the ankle through the dunes. No time to waste, he’d said. You couldn’t agree more as that unforgiving sun beamed down at you like it had a personal vendetta against your survival. 

At your lack of verbal answer - because physically you were blinking slowly up at him with a crooked smile that spoke volumes - Scaramouche grimaced and sank until he was seated just above your head. If you shifted a bit, your head would be cradled in his crossed legs. 

Would he push you away, or pull you in? His preference on your proximity seemed to wax and wane at unpredictable intervals. Some days he was your shadow, just in the corner of your eye as you went about your morning exercises, caught up on some reading, satisfied your need to simply exist for a while without pressing issues at hand. 

And some days you wouldn’t see him until the false evening where your energy would wind down and you’d share a bed with him far more comfortably than you’d expect. You always woke first, and you’d always find him wrapped around you in one way or another, hair brushed into his face and moving gently with his exhales. 

It’s in these moments where you’d watch him - both in the sleepy hours of the morning and times like right now - that you can’t help the whirling of your thoughts down avenues they shouldn’t be veering toward. There are dark corners that beckon you closer, promising things that should never come to fruition. 

But the promises were beautiful. Soft veneer that belied the sharpness that’s sure to cut you to the bone if you let it. But you’ve been through worse things unwillingly - what’s a little willing self-inflicted pain when the payoff would be so sweet? 

Those alleyways are left behind in favor of tilting your head to smile at his upside-down figure. This could be enough. You’re not even sure there's a true possibility for more, yet you dream of it nonetheless. Shameful isn’t enough to describe it. 

“Where have you been?”

It’s an innocent question. It’s all you can muster, as every other topic you’d like to broach comes with the implication of heaviness. Scaramouche will bring his thoughts to you at his own pace - you’d tried to rush him only once, and he’d shut you down so quickly with a sneer and barbed words. It wasn’t worth the grief to hurry him along. 

So you keep it simple, and if he appreciates it or not, you’d never know. But it earns an answer anyway. “I got restless. I looked at the rest of your domain. It’s rather bare. Do you not have the means to fix that?”

If anyone else asked, you would’ve laughed it off. But Scaramouche says it with a little too harsh of a tone, and it makes your cheeks warm as you hurry to defend yourself. “Why would I need to do that? All I need is right here.”

Maybe there’s a little implication there. You hoped for him to pick up on it, and the subtle pink of his cheekbones beginning to flush is the sign showing you that he had. Pointedly, he lifts his chin and turns his gaze forward, setting you free from the snare of his gaze. It’s like cresting from beneath water as the pressure lifts and you’re left reeling from the aftermath of such visual entrapment. 

With a quiet sigh from his nose, his entire posture nearly melts. His back hunches, his elbows find his knees to rest on, his hands are tantalizingly close enough for you to want to reach for. Impulse control had never been your strong suit on the best of days. 

While today was pretty good, you were powerless to reach for one of those slender hands and bring it above your face, watching as his fingers splay of their own accord. You’re treated to the sight of slim fingers that obediently follow where you place them as you push and pull, pressing your thumb into his palm to cup his hand before urging him to flatten it out again. 

All at once, his hand comes down on your face - without force, but the grip he has is enough to startle you into kicking your legs out and scrambling to pull him off. Stubbornly, he refuses to let you go, his voice tinged with a tone that’s awfully close to a certain kitsune you know. “You wanted to see my hand? Then look at it.”

—

The veranda that surrounds your stone garden is a point of interest to him, considering you find him there at all hours with his feet over the edge while he draws shapes in the sand that would soon revert back to its normal state. And in his lap he holds a number of things - scrolls and books you’ve collected on your journeys, trinkets he’s found in your home, an Anemo vision. 

The latter startles you the most. It’s in the Inazuman style, but the glittering green of the gemstone is telling. Venti knows. He must, if it’s to be believed that bestowment of visions is an extension of an Archon’s will. 

Settling beside him with a grunt, you look at the metal he turns over and over in his hand. From what you understand, receiving a vision is meant to be a happy affair, one that comes with the realization of one’s dreams and ambitions. Yet Scaramouche has been quiet during his stay here, barely antagonizing you in favor of sitting in this very spot and contemplating everything and nothing at all. 

“Have you made up your mind, Scaramouche?”

Instead of stringing you along and causing you grief, Scaramouche instead clutches the metal in his hand until you’re certain the edges dig into his skin painfully. “You know my name. Use it.”

It flows off your tongue like it’s been waiting for you to speak it. “Kunikuzushi.”

It sounds like a song, despite its inherent meaning. Whether he chose it for himself, or it was given to him by the Shogun, you’re unsure. The tension in his shoulders drops, and you’re left with a former Fatui harbinger that’s hunched in on himself, looking smaller than ever. The Anemo vision pulses in his palm. 

“I have something to ask of you.”

Not demand, not even request. Kunikuzushi implies that you can simply say no, if you want. It’s haunting to know that you’re not convinced you could deny him something if he asked it earnestly enough - as he’s doing now with subtly pleading eyes and hands that shake around his newfound vision. 

Against your best interests, you answer, “Anything you want.”

“Don’t say that.” It’s sharper, said as a warning before he softens again into vulnerability. “You were right. I don’t know who I am now. I’m… angry. There’s so much of it that I easily let it fill every part of me until there was no room for anything else.”

Despite opening your mouth, you think better of it and say nothing. He doesn’t seem to mind that you’ve foregone a response, and continues on, “It’s still there. Maybe it always will be. Maybe it’s a byproduct of how I was created. She held no regard for emotions, and seeing them in me turned her away.”

You’re well aware. Painfully aware. In your dreams you see snippets of his life you witnessed, and they hover over you like a nightmare that you can’t shake. 

The Anemo vision is no longer strangled, instead it’s cupped in his hands as if he’s cradling something precious. In a way, he is - that vision is the manifestation of the ambitions he’s come to a decision on. 

“No matter how someone attempts to be perceived, everyone has emotions. Me, you, the Shogun. I’m sure every god up in Celestia is unable to hold themselves above that standard. It’s not a human thing, it’s a curse that everything with sentience is given.” 

For the first time since you woke up in that bed and found him clutching your hand with both of his own, gripping you like a lifeline, you reach out with your own hand to lay on the back of his shoulder. Your fingertips brush the ends of his hair, the softness tickling across your skin in a way that you’ve quietly missed.

“So yeah, there will always be anger. There are also a million other emotions too - you can’t get rid of them all. You can let one take over, but in the end you’re still feeling. You’re still angry. You’re still hurt.”

The last word hits him so hard he flinches, eyes clenching shut briefly before opening with slow blinks. Realization is clear on his face as he turns to look at you, something new in his eyes that you haven’t seen before. 

You’re barely given time to decipher it before his tongue darts out to wet his lips and he finally asks of you, “I’ve been selfish for my whole life. Hundreds of years, the only thing I’ve cared about is me. Without the anger I’m empty, and without the selfishness I feel like a stranger to myself. The thing I want to ask is that you let me stay by your side. There’s clarity here, and I know it will be lost the moment I’m alone again.”

“You won’t be.” On reflex you answer, and you’re certain it’s the correct one. You’d never be able to doubt your decision when it comes to him. “Learn to trust me, I won’t willingly let you down.”

And the smile you receive with your acceptance can only be described as radiant, even as it barely curves on his lips. It’s genuine, nothing like the mocking ones you’ve seen before. You have a need to reach out and sweep across it with your thumb, committing the shape to memory, yet you hold yourself back for good reasons. 

He doesn’t trust you, but he’s trying. 

—

Scaramouche - Kunikuzushi, you remind yourself - doesn’t smile often. At least, not in any capacity that isn’t malicious or antagonistic. There’s very little joy to be had on his end, you realize. It’s a task you’ve unwittingly taken on to at least bring him some iota of happiness. You just want to see that smile he’d given you on the veranda once more.

And despite your efforts - needling him for his favorite food until he relents, offering to spar and being shot down, showing him how the spincrystals work - none of them ever make a dent in his perpetual melancholy. That is, until you catch him going through one of the storage buildings where you keep miscellaneous items used for ascension. 

There’s a look on his face that has nothing to do with the fact that he’s been caught, and everything to do with the purple and blue shard cluster in his hands. It glimmers in the low light, but not nearly as bright as the look of glee on his face. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Oh, I knocked that off Childe a while back when we were fighting. I keep it to lord over him when he gets too cocky.”

“‘Gets’? As in, continued interaction?”

Jealousy is painfully easy for you to spot, even on someone like Scara- Kunikuzushi. Against your deep, deep desires to call him out on it, you simply lean one shoulder on the doorframe as you cross your arms, the picture of nonchalance no matter how feigned. “We meet up when I’m in the area and fight. I haven’t lost yet, but he keeps trying.”

“You realize it’s like a drug to him, right?” He turns the shard over and over, watching the way the blue shifts like sunlight through the surface of water. “If you let him win, he’ll lose interest.”

“What if I don’t want him to? It’s the highlight of my trips to Liyue.”

The gleeful smile is gone, and in its place is a downward turn of his lips that leaves you feeling suddenly bereft. Even a smile out of malevolence toward Childe is better than him being disgruntled about nothing at all. The hand holding the shard falls to his side, still clutching it but with far less care. “Is it now?”

“We’ve had a couple solid heart-to-hearts in the middle of battle. I think if things were different, we’d have been good friends.”

“Really? How good is ‘good’?”

You don’t have to think about it. It’s exactly what it sounds like, but you know you’re starting to tread some dangerous waters with how he refuses to look at you, the joints in his hands cracking with the sudden pressure of his grip on Childe’s Foul Legacy shard. The hesitation is unfortunate, and you realize your mistake within seconds. 

The clatter of the shard to the floor barely registers before you realize you’ve been swung around to the outside of the building, trapped between the wall and Scaramouche. Because that’s who this is now - not Kunikuzushi who’s gone through the motions of attempted reconciliation with the parts of himself he’d tried to cast off. This is the Harbinger, the Balladeer, and you’ve unintentionally played with fire. 

His eyes have grown wide with subtle fury, sclera suddenly dwarfing his irises without diminishing the effect of blazing indigo that pins you just as surely as his body does. The grip he has on your shoulders is near bruising - but only for a moment, up until you shift at the discomfort and it all seems to come rushing back to him. Where he’s at, who he’s with, what he’s been trying to do in the safety of your domain. 

As if burned, his hands rip away from you as he stumbles back one, two, three steps. Despite his lower than normal body temperature, you feel cold without him caging you in. The sun above isn’t sufficient to warm you now - not while he’s looking at you as if he’s seen a ghost. His hands shake as they hover in front of him, held aloft as if he’s afraid to bring them close to himself for fear of what he thinks he’s done. 

Scaramouche is absent once more. Dormant, but not entirely gone. You realize it now, as you should have from the very beginning. 

“Kuni-”

“Don’t.”

It’s a plea, but you’re not sure for what. It could be space, it could be forgiveness, it could be any number of things that you’d willingly give him if he only just asked for it. Rather than do anything of the sort, he simply turns on his heel and stalks across the open grass away from the mansion you called home. 

As empty as the other parts of your domain may be, something must have brought him comfort if he was seeking it out in his moment of weakness. Leaning heavily on the wall, you watch until the winding paths take him from your sight and you’re left alone - regretful and confused. 

—

Kunikuzushi doesn’t come to you again - not for the remainder of the day, not for the one following. Worry had begun to set in as you settled for the evening, yet it’s swept away neatly as you’re awoken in the night to your bed shifting. Before you can even start to protest against the intruder, you’re met with a quiet, “Sh-sh-sh”. Just the tone tells you who it is. 

Immediately you settle as he slides in next to you, close enough that he takes your body heat and bounces it back at you. As he shifts, you feel his skin against your own and an involuntary sigh leaves you - it’s undoubtedly pleased, but he makes no verbal note of it. 

He doesn’t even ask. You don’t need to give him permission. The absence of both is an open invitation for him to enter as he pleases, slipping into bed and keeping a respectable distance, yet holding your hand tightly just the same. It doesn’t take much thought to know that he feels far too alone, and sharing a space with you is the smallest comfort he needs. 

“It’s just me.”

You know.

“Can I stay here tonight? Just tonight. I won’t again.”

That’s a lie.

“Are you awake?”

Yes, but you feel adrift in your own body. Calm, relaxed, sharing warmth with him keeps you docile. It keeps your breaths even and your eyes closed. A shuddering sigh leaves him, almost as if he’s laughing nervously. You don’t even flinch as his free hand raises to your face, brushing the back of his knuckles against your cheek before his palm cradles you. 

“It’s not healthy to be this attached but I can’t stay away.” Another breath, in and out as it washes over you and pushes you further into sleep. His voice is barely a whisper, as if he fears waking you up with his nighttime confessions. The sweeping of his thumb under your eye draws a quiet hum from you - content and happy. 

“I’ll always be selfish in some way. I don’t want to lose this feeling, I don’t want to be away from you and forget how this feels. It’s safe. I can’t remember the last time I felt that.”

His confession of your existence as a source of comfort brings a full feeling to your chest, and you’re certain if you were a little more lucid, you’d be welling with tears. Yet all you can do is turn your face just enough for your lips to press against the base of his thumb, brushing in a half-hearted attempt at kissing him there. 

It makes his breath catch, and for a moment you think he realizes you’re awake. Perhaps he knows anyway, and is revealing all this to you with that knowledge in mind. A pressure on your forehead arises as he leans into you, his own forehead resting there and the tip of his nose brushing yours. You’re so warm, he’s so close, your head swims in lazy circles. 

“I’ve known of you for so long, but it’s only during our time here that I’ve come to know you. It feels silly to be this dependent on another, but I-...” A thick swallow punctuates his self-interruption, and he doesn’t continue for just long enough that you think he’s given up. Desperately, you want him to continue - to keep whispering these things to you in the quiet of the night, the barest hint of insanity lacing his voice. 

“I want to be. With you. Here, outside, wherever you are.”

It goes unsaid, but the implications are strong enough that you finally crack your eyes open to catch a glimpse of his own. The color is washed out in the shades of nighttime, leaving amethyst to fade into a cool gray that looks frantically back and forth between your own. Before he can panic, you shift close enough that your legs tangle with his own and you can curl a hand along his ribs. Your fingers slot between each one. 

It’s moving so fast, this odd dance you’ve been doing with him, yet even now you feel like you’ve known him for every one of the hundreds of years he’s wandered Teyvat. Something changed, swiftly and starting from the moment you’d witnessed his memories, and there’s been no effort on your part to stop it. 

It’s welcome. Wanted, even. His fingertips press into the skin behind your ear and you accept his guidance where he leads you - to his lips. Cool and soft and steady, not insistent like you expected. Not fervent and hysteric like you might have once experienced. Instead it’s almost like a plea for you to let him stay with you. 

Your answer is to respond in kind, letting him take what he’d like - whether that’s comfort or something more physical. A sound leaves him, similar to a whine that peters out into something breathier. It’s almost needy in a way, and strikes something inside you to give him what he’s so clearly asking for - begging for. 

The shirt he wears to bed is thin and easy for you to bunch up more and more until you can slip your hand beneath and feel his skin. It leeches your warmth, taking more and more from you as his kiss grows into that desperation you’d initially expected. Each rib is counted up to his chest, and your palm rests over his heart as if you wanted to protect it somehow. He leans into your touch, all but arching into you as you work his shirt higher. 

In the span of time it takes for him to pull away and let you remove it, he’s grown flushed and frantic. The two of you crash back together with too much force, rolling until you’re below him and he cages you in as if you keep you from running - you’re not sure you ever would want to. 

Before, when he’d just awoken with a new sort of life before him, he claimed he would keep you. But now, as he whines as you touch him - stroking down his chest, along his stomach, past his navel - begging for the opposite. “Don’t let me go. Don’t turn me away, please.”

“Never,” You swear it like an oath, a promise that you never intend to break, and the suddenness of the wetness at your neck startles you when he buries his face there. Whether he’s hiding from you or the world, you’re unwilling to let it continue. With both hands on his face you lift him and take in the sight of something that could have been mistaken for anguish if you weren’t so sure of his relief. 

He collapses in your hold as you bring him closer, wrapping your legs around his hips in a halfhearted attempt to keep him secure. There isn’t an ounce of fight in him as he molds against you - face to face, chest to chest, hips against your own insistently in a way that makes it clear what he wants. What he needs. 

“Never,” you repeat, holding him close by the back of his head, gripping him tighter to you as if to meld into one being. It wouldn’t be so bad to share yourself with him in every way possible, down to the very last molecule that makes up your being. Whatever happened in that moment with Haypasia, where you’d taken her hand and allowed her to guide you to him, it’s changed you. 

There is no regret in that thought. Perhaps if something fundamental had gone wrong, where he’d taken hold of your will and twisted you into something that suited his needs, you’d have felt more wary. Instead, it almost feels the opposite with how he grips at your hips and drags against you with movements both languid and frenetic. 

Teeth find the straining tendon of your neck, dragging along it with purpose that’s never fulfilled as he avoids leaving the marks you’d gladly accept. Any trepidation is left at the wayside as the pressure between you builds to unmanageable levels - and you want more. It’s too much, but you’d continue to let it spiral so long as you could continue to feel like this. 

“Scara-... Kunikuzushi, I need more. Please… please-”

“Anything you want.” He murmurs into your ear, teeth finally finding purchase against your earlobe shortly before pulling away. The sharpness of it makes you flinch, nearly distracting you from the way he looms above you while working at the drawstring of his pants. “Keep me by your side, and I’d do anything you asked.”

“Anything?” You hummed, pushing up on your elbows to look at him more closely, silhouetted by the parted screens at his back. At your will, the moon in the sky freezes at its apex, lighting him with its coolness. 

He’s ethereal, truly a being from another plane of existence - nothing in Teyvat could compare to this. No sight in all of your travels would approach the divinity before you that stares back with tear stained cheeks and mussed hair, fingers shaking as he hooks his thumbs into the band of his pants to pull them down. 

Neither of you speak as he reaches toward you with intent, pulling your own shorts away with moves that are clumsy and unpracticed. Despite your sudden impatience, you allow him to move at his own pace here - removing your clothing, crawling up your body, smoothing the backs of his fingers along the insides of your knees before pushing them apart. His swallow is audible above the sound of crickets just outside, betraying the false confidence he’s failing to show. 

“Anything.”

His confirmation comes in three syllables that are accompanied by his breath across your wetness. Shivers make their way down your spine, culminating in your knees pressing into his shoulders on reflex. It does nothing to deter him, even if you wanted it to - you desperately do not. 

His first touches are his thumbs, spreading you apart and gazing with parted lips and a look of enraptured awe on his face. It’d almost be amusing if you weren’t blindsided by his immediate leaning in to taste. One long, flat swipe of his tongue is all it takes to make you shudder beneath him, your fingers wrapping around hair that slips smoothly between your digits. 

The pressure of your grip urges him on further. To be more adventurous, to push inside you with fingers and tongue until you’re breathless and writhing beneath him. It’s you that whines now, pleading for him to continue more and more and more. And truly, he meant anything, as his pursuit of your pleasure is tireless and without pause nor question. 

“I-I need you, I need more-”

With a deep breath, he pulls away to look at you through his lashes with no shortage of expectancy. As his lips move, the low light of the moon catches on the mixture of your pleasure and his saliva. “Soon. Let me have this, don’t be impatient.”

The scolding quiets you only slightly, just enough for him to grasp you once again with increased desperation. His fingertips dig into your thighs, harder and harder until you’re certain you’re liable to bruise. Yet you welcome it - the physical signs of Kunikuzushi on your skin. The proof of his existence here with you. 

Between the sounds of his heavy breath and the press of his tongue inside you, you’re listless and left adrift at his whim. He once claimed you were cruel, but his insistence on keeping you at the edge is far more merciless than you could have hoped to achieve. Even as you begin to plead again, begging him to just set you free, he simply hums against you as if that would be enough to placate. 

With your grip on his hair so tight, you have to be hurting him, yet tugging at his locks only urges him further. Instead of chastising you once more for your neediness, he instead indulges you. What was once teasing and exploratory becomes pinpoint and purposeful. Thin fingers that had simply pressed inside you now become three, then four that stretch you suddenly. 

It’s divine, the closest to Celestia you’re certain you’ll ever reach, and with infinite mercy he allows you to come undone around him. 

He does nothing to quiet your whines, nor does he attempt to stop you from rocking against him with near brutal force as you chase your climax despite being in the throes of it. In the apex of your release, he’s the anchor that keeps you grounded and guides you back down with softer touches and hums of approval. 

Kunikuzushi calls you home, and you’re more than willing to slump in his arms as he crawls up your body and rolls until you’re on your side with him, cradled against his collarbone that’s damp with sweat. Your heartbeat fills your ears with an erratic tempo, and a slip of your hand along his neck reveals his own is thrumming just as quickly. 

There’s nothing to say. No life changing proclamations, no confessions that would shatter the foundations of the very world you’re hiding him away from. Only the slow blink of your eyes as you stare at him in unfiltered wonder. Somehow, reality feels shifted and you can’t pinpoint exactly which axis it’s turned on. 

There’s an unmistakable pressure against your thigh when you slide it between his own. The effect is immediate - his hips roll as he chases the friction you’d teased him with, a sharp exhale that’s akin to disbelief leaves his parted lips, and his eyes unfocus for the briefest moment. His skin catches on your own as you drag your hand from his neck to his chest, then his ribs and down his side to the hip bone that juts out from his skin. All it takes is a nudge of your palm to set him into moving against you with a rhythmic rolling that provides the pleasure he’s earned.

There’s something dark and addicting about the thought of him using you for his own pleasure like this. Only the barest of input is needed from you, giving ample room for you to watch the myriad of expressions on his face. Tension, relief, the glittering of tears welling at the corners once more. 

“You’re so beautiful.” 

The words leave of their own accord, but you make no attempt to stop them. All it does is make his face crumple before he turns sharply, burying it in the pillow beneath his head as if that would hide him from your sight. You’re almost tempted to let him do as he pleases, but you’re reminded of the vision you’d burned in your mind of the transcendence you’d witnessed of him in the moonlight. 

And more than anything, you want to see if it tarnishes as he comes undone, or if it refracts against itself in a dizzying whirl of colors and sensations. 

Rolling him onto his back is effortless, but his hips buck to chase you as you pull away the friction he’d been savoring. You’re far less sadistic, despite his prior insistence, and placate him by straddling his hips instead. There’s a new sort of pressure against him - one that’s wet and searing hot and all but begging for him to thrust up into it with the madness you’re certain still lurks beneath the surface.

Yet he stills, clutching the pillow at the sides of his head, suddenly afraid to touch you. Without his guidance, you’re left in control and it gives you a surge of bravado so strong that you barely attempt to stem it. Your hips roll once, and in turn his eyes roll beneath fluttering lashes. All you can make out is a half-lidded gaze as he watches you rock above him, taking his pleasure into your own hands rather than allowing him to use you himself. 

“I-I can’t… it’s too much-”

You had your suspicions, but his frantic exclamation proves that you’re treading ground with him that’s yet to be explored. On any other occasion, you’d be delighted to have him release on you, painting your skin and marking you as his own - yet this is meant to be special. 

A shift of your hips and your hand guiding him is all it takes for him to slide home easily, thanks to your own eagerness. A broken whine leaves him, cracked at the edges and scraping pleasantly against your ears as you let him bask in the moment. Beneath your splayed hands, his ribs shudder with every labored breath as he strains to make sense of what he’s feeling now. 

Below you, he seems so far away. So small as he white-knuckle grips next to his head, dangerously close to catching his own hair in the crossfire. Leaning down until you’re flush with him, you run your fingers through the indigo strands to sweep them up and out of the way, revealing the entirety of his face to you. 

Cradling his forehead with your palm, you take the chance to lean in and kiss him - softly, with all the tenderness you can put forth. It tastes sweet on your tongue, clinging saccharine to your teeth even as you pull away and marvel as the flush of his cheeks, the wetness traveling down his temples and into the fabrics beneath him. 

His time is up, and you give him no more time to adjust as you rock your hips enough for him to slide partly out, then all the way to the base again. His pupils seem to shrink as his eyes snap open, staring sightlessly over your shoulder as you move slowly. Permanently catatonic, you’d categorize him as such while you focus on his bliss while taking this from him.

“Touch me.” When he doesn’t respond, you coo, “Kunikuzushi…”

“I-I… I can’t.”

“You can’t? Or won’t?”

It’s a tease. Surely he’d give in if he were able to, but it’s impossible to resist goading him when he looks so thoroughly broken beneath you. Your fingers trace his hairline again, asynchronous to the rolling of your hips, and you hum in acknowledgment as he swallows thickly to answer, “I-I’m going to… Please, I don’t... it’s too…”

Fragments of sentences are all he can give to you, but you understand his desperation just the same. His cheek is cool against your own as you lean closer, murmuring into his ear, “Go ahead. Fill me up. Claim me. I’m all yours, and you’re mine.”

It could’ve been a number of things. The reassurance, the closeness, the promise of letting fate entwine the two of you so tightly that there’d be no undoing such a tangle. Any one of them could have led him into throwing his arms around you and crushing you to his chest as he writhes. A choked sob leaves him, muffled by your shoulder as he all but buries himself in you in every sense of the word. 

And you let him, the only sound you make is one of surprise as he releases into you with force, doing exactly as you told him to. In the wake of his climax is a series of full-body shudders, barely contained by the way he anchors himself to you with all his strength. Thin fingers feel like knives as they dig into your shoulder blades, his elbows hooking beneath your arms to lock you in. 

The sound of his breath in your ear is like waves crashing on rocks, like rain on a metal roof - loud, all consuming, washing out the rest of the world if you let it. And you do, without complaint and without hesitation as you let him writhe against you in search of the last dregs of his pleasure that he’s found with you. 

He doesn’t relent. Not as his movements stop, not as you pull away enough to kiss along the column of his neck and thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, and not as his breathing picks up speed and shortness again. If it were anyone else, you’d have made a comment about the tears that wet your shoulder - but he’s in a league of his own. 

All you do is roll until you’re on your back once more, cradling him with your arms and thighs as the dam breaks and you wait patiently for the torrent to subside. 

The moon stays exactly where you willed it.

[starglitterz]

serendipity. (vi)

─── chapter 6 ! ~ your friends are here ! (oh no)

summary; when you, a waitress at the local coffee shop, are paired up with the new recruit scaramouche, you’re pretty sure both of you are going to get fired within a week. he’s just quit being a social media influencer and after being forced to work here to make ends meet, he’s ready to let everyone there know how much he hates it. the worst part? you can’t shake the feeling that you know him from somewhere. but as he slowly warms up to you, scaramouche realises that having a fresh start isn’t that bad after all, and perhaps the two of you meeting like this was pure serendipity.

a/n; HIIII sorry it's been a while 💔 anyways i really like this chapter, i added quite a few things that weren't in my original plan to hopefully link the future chapters better, so i hope you all like it hehe lmk what u think!

warning(s); one (1) kys joke

previous.┃masterlist.┃next.

please reblog w comments ! it helps a lot :)

( y/n's phone )

groupchat !

twitter #1 !

twitter #2 !

private messages !

( scara's phone )

groupchat !

( kokomi's phone )

private messages !

scarayn the sillies... i love them ahhh,,, also i'll let you guys decide kokomi's intentions for yourselves hahaha

© starglitterz 2024. do not repost or modify in any way.

[abnormalityjoseph]

I happen to be almost done with getting all of the talent and ascension materials for Wanderer, so take this treat!

Wanderer • Affection Headcanons

Awww the beloved!! Him!! Beloved!!

Definitely very touch starved. Once you start showing him any affection he’ll never get enough of it.

It’s almost like reassurance to him. Reassurance that he’s okay now and he’s getting better. Reassurance that you’ll be there for him while he heals.

Yeah so— Once you start doing small things like hand holding [linking pinkies or actually holding hands], hugs, even just putting a hand on his shoulder!! He starts wanting to feel that fuzzy feeling more often.

Naturally he’s a bit shy initiating it at first. He’s never really..done this kind of thing with anyone. In platonic or romantic context.

After awhile, he’ll just start doing it on instinct when you’re together.

Of course, right after he’ll look to you just to be sure that it’s fine he’s doing this.

When you give him that reassuring smile, or maybe just hold his hand tighter, he can’t help but get all giddy.

He’s…excited! He’s never done anything like this and it’s weird yet so nice!

Often used to put up a ‘fake it until you make it’ kind of confidence.

But here, with you? Maybe it’s finally real confidence.

Gradually as he gets out of his old routine and act from his Harbinger days, you’ll see him get much more open to affection.

Yeah, I already mentioned he was shy. But it was kind of a “Was that affection? Gross. Do it more,” feeling for him. The Wanderer is nothing but stubborn and quick to deny weakness, that might never change.

Over time he gets more clingy though? He just will never leave you alone. Personally will drag you up hills to go see the sights, he doesn’t explain it to you.

No need to, of course. Prolonged periods of The Wanderer being with you leads to him understanding how you feel about things like this. He’s aware you’re fine with doing all these things with him.

If you stopped showing him these simple affections he might freak out though. Did he do something wrong? Are you mad? He would try to figure it out and reconcile.

Oh, also he primarily does acts of service and gift giving to show affection. He’s not..great with words. His pride would never let him say anything too sweet.

Bless him and his good memory, Wanderer will always somehow recall even the smallest mentions of your favorite things. Or important days for you.

He’s like a cat. There. I said it. He’s just a cat that loves to give you things when you start showing him some attention.

[kazukazuhas]

𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 . . . #.𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒓 𝒙 𝒈𝒏!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 —- [ 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 ]

          · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

⇢ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ; ;  with his dearest companion doing such sweet things, he thinks he's in a fairytale.

⇢ 𝐜𝐰𝐬 ; ;  mutual pining ˏˏ kissing ofc

⇢ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ; ; fuck you to my friend, you are the cause of this. ALSO IM LATE SORRY ABOUT THAT !! I SWEAR I STARTED ON HIS BIRTHDAY.

          · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

     " i'd appreciate it if you did not stare at me as though i'm a lost dog, y'know, " the man gruffly said with a glare pointed towards his companion behind him. hands steady on the bowl and wooden spoon, folding the sticky mixture over and in with an eased mind. you giggle back as a reponse, knowing the man would only be more annoyed by it, though it was a pity his back was turned to you so you didnt get the satisfaction of seeing his irritated face.

     brushing off your prying eyes on the bowl and spoon he held, scaramouche (or whatever he was called at this point) pushed the wooden spoon into the mixture and flipped the page of notes and recipes he was given by his caregiver and aunt. reading the instructions with a finger underlining the words, scaramouche mumbled quietly before returning to mixing for a short moment. then leaving the bowl to the side, and near you.

     " can i? " a simple enough question in reference to the gold tinted mixture in his bowl. and surprisingly, not missing a beat, the man handed you a spoon absent-mindedly for some taste testing ( maybe allowing you to do so would be nice enough of the man for nahida to deem him growing as a person. but it didn't stop the small glance he sent your way while you were preoccupied with tasting whatever the hell he was making, indirectly asking your for an opinion. )

     he turned away once again to mix something else in another bowl, humming quietly to himself a song of his past. focused on completing his task was he. cute, you thought as he continued doing whatever.

     quite honestly, throughout the whole process of it you thought the amount of effort and focus he had committed to the " house husband " bit ( though you could never really admit you thought he looked like one at the least ) was beyond amusing, more so inspiring to an extent.

     " are you sure you know what you doing there, man? " you coo at him when he abruptly stops and begins to scan the page, word for word, for something you could guess was an instruction. " better than you, for sure, " he barked back his response with slight uncertainty, but nonetheless you didn't call him out on it.

     eventually deciding to scrap the whole second project and focus on the first one he let you taste. tossing you a second spoon ( after the first was thrown into the sink ) and taking one for himself. a soft sigh escape his lips before pulling a stool out from under the counter next to you. scaramouche pulled the bowl close and scoped some of the mixture. " what? it's edible, is it not? eat, " he spoke abruptly, quieter than usual.

     the moments that passed were silent, eating of the snack he gave up on actually completing it. though mostly the time was filled with subtle glances looking back at you, eyes filled with soft admiration.

     " happy birthday, kuni. " he choked on his spit, surprised beyond comparison.

     " w-what—? " he choked out once again. " what did you ah-ugh, say? — eyes widened and mouth agape as he tried to calm his shock, it has centuries, he thinks, since someone had wished him — " my birthday? "

     " ye, the third. nahida told me, " you replied without missing your own beat, blinking back at the man who seemed to had seen a ghost. " you clearly don't like much so, uh-m, here. " you passed a small box to him, smiling lightly and scooping a spoon-full up.

     at first he gave it a suspicious glance, gently sliding the box with his middle and index fingers towards him. " what is it? " voice light with soft excitement as he shook the box slowly to gauge the weight. you offered no reponse. scaramouche scratched the top with a blunt nail.

     lifting the box's lid still rather suspicious of your intentions, only to see a pair of rings well crafted sat beautifully inside on dark tissue paper. a pair of simple duller gold bands fitted for him.

     words caught in his throat like a cough, though the flowers that tickled the soft skin trickled through the gap between his lips like a small stream of cool water rushing. " this? " he mouths his words carefully before picking one of the two with his pointer finger and thumb. " its for me–?" unsure.

     " yep, " you answered him honestly before taking it from him. " gimme your hand, kun. " you pulled his right hand holding his fingers, lifting his middle finger with your pointer. you carefully slid the ring onto his finger, adjusting it so it sat hugging his finger comfortable. a smile lit your face upon seeing it on him, not noticing the blush that was dusted on his cheeks.

     " looks good, don't you think? " the proud shine of your eyes blinded him, he nodded slowly. " c'mon, don't leave a job half done, " he commanded you while pushing the second of the pair in your hand. with a playful glare back to him, you did as previous and as he asked.

     staring at his hands, fingers held in your hands and the rings shiny slightly, you felt your hard work having been paid off now that you see it on display. he grinned softer at your happiness, grateful you cared enough to get him something as beautiful as simple as the pair of rings he now wore.

     the second you looked up and his body on auto pilot, he inched closer until he closed the gap and his lips were against yours. light as morning dew, he moved gently against your lips, the morning warmth burst across his chest before he moved back. the feeling of his lips on yours lingered, and he could say the same about you. " you are welcome– " you laughed heartly before lifting his knuckles to your lips, kissing each one with a gentle softness at made his chest swell.

     " thanks. i guess, " he mumbled under his breath before moving to go back to eat the snack he made once upon a time ago.

     the day he once dreaded so much now felt like a sweet fairytale created just for him even if he didn't like nor cared for them. though he couldn't deny that this felt like you were one.

          · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

     𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ; ; @spoopy-fish-writes // @spoops-inliyue ˏˏ @decaffeinatedcloudkryptonite // @shaantiofher  

          · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩, ��𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚, ��𝙩𝙘. 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙧 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙧 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙡𝙚𝙙𝙜𝙚. 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙚𝙭𝙘𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙚. 𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙧. 𝙠𝙖𝙯𝙪𝙠𝙖𝙯𝙪𝙝𝙖𝙨 2023

[eoues]

##⠀ ⠀you can never trust anyone, not even your own best friend. thinking that this blind date would go smoothly like hu tao states, it didn’t. why? because the person she set you up with is currently your rival from college! and what’s even worse — he’s now the newest member of your favorite idol group 5KY! hopefully after this date you won’t see him anymore, right?

. ֺ۪ ⭒ ݂ CONTENT. enemies to friends to lovers, academic rivals to lovers, everyone is presumably 20-24, slight angst, fluff, mentions of drinking and smoking, cursing, slow burn, modern/college au, i use they/them for the reader, crack

. ֺ۪ ⭒ ݂ STATUS. jan 5 to, VERY slow updates, taglist is open! ON HOLD!

. ֺ۪ ⭒ ݂ NOTE. YAYA I FINALLY POSTED IT IM SO HAPPY!! anyways guys pls send me an ask or comment here if you want to be added to the taglist ‼️🔥 anything written will have a (‼️)

. ֺ۪ ⭒ ݂ IMPORTANT. most chapters will be smau. pictures, characters, etc do not belong to me, full full credits to its owners! again, very slow updates so pls be patient (this might be the only post i’ll try scheduling). reblogs are appreciated! most time stamps are completely off so just ignore them. this smau will contains lost of offensive language (nothing too bad), kms/kys jokes, etc so please be aware! some characters might even use tone indicators :)! also, lots of grammatical errors and lots of caps and smashing keyboard (i will try my best to proofread but i wont most of the time). titles, characters, chapters might change (since most isn’t that finalized lmao).

✦ ⠀⠀pookie bears / emo band / 5KY official acc

✦ ⠀⠀TABLE OF CONTENTS

one. where’s y/n???

two. want me to set up a blind?

three. big day for annoying people

four. i can trust her

five. hes so annoying

six. tba

✦ ⠀⠀TAGLIST! (if your user is in bold, it means i’m having trouble tagging you)

@vdnlya @ph4nt4-st1c4l @lylovw @richxelle @raideneiari @lightlyfeatheredquailqin @lucecent @mave-in @xingyunclouds @myaaones @thenightsflower @akagism2 @eunchaeluvr @sakiimeo @kunikuzushiit @l-l-u-x-x @ieathairs @m3gitsune @vanitasbrainrot @ixllyaaa

[bboricha]

goody two shoes

✦ 🚫MDNI ✦ pairing: college!scaramouche x afab!reader ✦ wc: ~500 ✦ part two ✦ cw: nsfw, not proofread, raw/no condom, degradation, exhibitionism, in public, dom!scara x sub!reader, overstimulation, edging, dumbification if you squint, facial, i don’t usually write smut, lmk if i’ve missed any

he grips your hips harder, his silent way of telling you to be quiet as footsteps can be heard approaching you two.

“it’s almost like you want to be caught, is that it?” he teases as soon as the footsteps retreat, forcing you to look his way with a hand at your chin. “you can’t lie to me, i felt how you tightened up at the idea of being exposed,” you whimper in response, clutching the shelf in front of you as you try to push him further into you. he stills your movement keeping just the tip inside, chuckling at your neediness and frustration.

“kuni…” you whine, turning enough to tug at his shirt hoping that he’d get the message. which, he definitely did, but it’s never easy with him.

“aww, what is it? i won’t know what you mean if you don’t tell me.” his hand caresses your body, deliberately leaving out all the parts you wanted him to touch. the hand on your hip traveled towards your inner thigh, his long fingers just slightly brushing over your exposed clit for a brief moment and retreating just quick. his other hand finds its way underneath your shirt, sneaking its way between you and your bralette to fondle your breast, purposely avoiding your nipple. you can feel tears pricking the corner of your eyes at his teasing. you know how mean he can be, he actually won’t give you anything until you beg him for it.

“please fuck me–” he instantly shoves the rest of his length into you, causing you to gasp as he reacts immediately by covering your mouth. the pace he sets is brutal, making the shelves shake from the impact. his hand finally reaches your clit, touching rough circles against it making you sob into his hand. you cream his cock, tears spilling from your eyes from embarrassment at how fast you came. he’s been teasing you for 30 minutes, it was almost like he planned for this.

“you’re such a whore,” he laughs, his pace unfaltering and unforgiving of the orgasm you just had.

“imagine if everyone could see you right now, the soon-to-be valedictorian getting their guts rearranged in the school library,” he whispers into your ear. his hand finally leaves your clit after determining that he’s milked out your orgasm for all it’s worth and uses both his hands to hold your hips. his pace become even faster and rougher as he begins to chase his own orgasm.

“maybe you’d like that, though–” he grunts in between, “–to shed that goody two shoes image?” a rhetorical question, not that he’d ever ask anything and expect you to respond with the state you’re currently in. you’re a whimpering mess, trying to reduce your moans with your small little hands despite all the overstimulation. as smart as you are, it was dumb of you to not notice how futile it was to try drown out your noises. he pulls out, turning you around and shoves you to your knees as he begins to pump himself. he groans as white ropes of his cum paint your flushed face. your lick off some from the corner of your lips as he smirks.

“this look suits you much better.”

✦ an: with genshin dropping so much scara content and in celebration with his release approaching very quickly, i just had to write something about him to keep myself absolutely insane. and with this, my blog now loses its sfw tag<3

[yelshin]

NEW KITTEN 2 | MLiST | ♡

An: the moment y'all been waiting for

Tw/Cw: mentions of getting bitten & scratched and blood and sprinkle of angst

"aha! There you are!" You picked up Kuni from the floor curious why is he glaring at something under the couch. You crouch down only to find the new kitten that arrived lately! You reach out your hands to the kitten; bracing yourself from the painful bite but...

Surprising, It didn't bite you. Like it somehow behaved after you reach out your hands. You placed Kuni on top of the couch and you move the couch a little bit so that you can grab the new kitten. You thought it would be scared of you at first but the kitten became very comfortable around you even in the first day.

Kuni on the other hand was not liking it. He knew something was off with this new kitten. The new kitten have dark-ish teal hair (congratulations for those who guessed Xiao) and piercing gold eyes; which is kinda familiar to Kuni. But once he connected the dots he realized that...

Xiao, was the new kitten.

And no he wasn't happy about this, he cant have another cat or more likely a person to steal your ONLY attention.

On the bright side you adored how the new kitten looks.. but you still have to think of the new name. "Hmm... You remind me one of my friends back in middle school, so why not have same name as him? Xiao!" The kitten flinched at the name which didn't go noticed by you, BUT Kuni did. He noticed how Xiao flinched when you set the name for him. Oh well the two can have a "friendly" talk when you're asleep.

"will you two please stop fighting at each other..." You tried your best to part them but its no use; you have scratches all over your arms and a bite at your hands. The two of them kept on fighting for hours obviously they hate each other. And you made a mistake on putting Xiao on same room as Kuni.

一Before the fight

"alright you two will share the SAME room okay? And might as well get along.." you prayed that these two will be in good terms which goes to south very fast after you announced that both of them will SHARE the same room that was supposed to be for Kuni only.

Kuni hissed at Xiao as if he's saying 'get out of my room' in which Xiao returned. You were busy fixing some things at the room and didn't notice the two start fighting until you heard a loud crash at living room.

You immediately rushed and saw a glass shattered on the floor with Kuni and Xiao still fighting and onr of them almost broke the very expensive vase that your mother gifted to you. You immediately went over them and tried to separate both of them but you were like a different person in their eyes at that time.

Kuni scratch your arms and it draw a little bit of blood while Xiao who bite your hand causing for you to drop both of them while holding your hands and rushed to the sink go wash the blood off.

The two kittens just realized what they did and both of them immediately felt guilty that they both hurt you at the same time.

一Present

Now you're here at the Animal bite center, the treatment was expensive but it doesn't matter to you since health is more important. You took a note that you should get both of them anti rabies.

When you got home you feel a little bit hurt due to your cats behaviour lately. You went to their room and saw Kuni at the cat tree; on verge of tears.

"why are you crying?" He let out a small meow which you took a signal that he's sorry for what he did lately to you. "Don't worry im not mad at you-" "mrow.." he snuggled at your hands. He thinks that you will stop feeding him and worse; cuddle with him. You were surprised that he felt so bad that he starts crying but you wonder where is Xiao.

"don't worry i will cuddle with you even if you hurt me lately.. now dont be sad" you gently scratch the back of his ears which he let out a purr. You felt a ticklish fur rubbing on your feet, you look down to see Xiao staring at you(r soul) you picked him up and put him beside Kuni and you waited for them to communicate to each other but instead they just glare at each other.

You chuckled at their cuteness and pet both of them, who are you to deny their cuddles after what they did to you?

An: everyone pls lmk ur HONEST opinion of adding Xiao as Scaramouche's rival in future also im very sorry if i took long to update, just ran out of plot ideas lately😭 also for those who's on bold text pls lmk if you changed your user ty!

@thetwinkims @sunsethw4 @etherisy @kunikuzushicandegrademefr @Heiijoxz, @eliciana @naritecs @kkazuyass @itztaki @makilovescofi @louise-rosita-leroux @w9vyy @lystaaa @midoriapologist @lilithticalx @red-chester @yushiu @raideneiari @scaraapologist @kxr0mi @sakiimeo @shizunxie @yanfeimainn @just-simping-over-genshin @thenightsflower @eunchaeluvr @ohmyfinggod @misomiis @spookyqueenduck @jxxji0309

[yumenosakiacademy]

If despair does not lead to destruction, Something new will rise from the ashes.

[maehemthemisfit]

The way Scaramouche said Dottore's name in the trailer had me feeling ALL TYPES OF WAYS

I'm so glad he's getting more attention in the updates

[qa-senpai]

Drawing Fyodor Dostoevsky as Kunikuzushi/Balladeer! [Please give Credit me or ask permission before using]

So, how would you feel if Fyodor were indeed the scary balladeer? Would you ran away? Or the opposite?

[genshin-scenarios]

Adopt a Wanderer: Sick Day [Part 4]

Summary: Kuni feels a little downcast when reminded about going back to his world, however any thoughts about that are quickly washed away when you get a fever (reader is sick, but it’s nothing too serious! He gets worried, though.)

Note: This is meant to be a found-family series with Scaramouche, who you address as Kuni in this AU! Mostly meant to be interpreted as platonic.

Part 3 <-

-> Part 5

Perhaps it was because of the weather, but you noticed that Kuni finds himself lost in his thoughts quite often these days.

What you don’t know, of course (seeing as you aren’t a mind reader), is that his concerns stem from something that’s never stopped looming over the both of you; his return home. Not only is Kuni pouring his worries over the ifs and whens, but the mere idea of going back to Teyvat - waking up and not being able to find or speak to you anymore - carves a crater in his chest that is hard to ignore.

He’s happy here now, but the mystery of how he arrived remains unsolved, and neither of you know when his last day might be.

It could be tomorrow or in another year. Or he could just be overthinking and letting anxious and depressed thoughts take over, but that doesn't change the fact that this uncertainty is both a blessing and a curse in its own right.

All this becomes irrelevant once you get sick, though. It's not that bad of a fever, but you're still fighting off a headache and a horribly sluggish feeling in your limbs, so naturally Kuni ends up panicking on your behalf because of how worried he was about you.

Since this is the first time he's seen you staying in bed because of sickness, it's understandable that Kuni is alarmed. But in the back of your hazy mind you register that it's also kind of endearing how he fusses over you - not sure of how fragile human bodies are compared to his.

Ah… right. He can't get sick, can he? It's no wonder he's acting as if you could collapse any minute. You appreciate the water refills he's been giving you (courtesy of a pharmacist's advice when he rushed to get you supplies at their shop) and the easy-to-stomach foods, but it's hard not to feel bad when Kuni is treating you so carefully. Sure, you didn't ask to get sick, but this is practically monopolizing all his time!

In an attempt to return to a bit of normalcy, you trudge your way to the living room and wrap yourself up to be stationed there. Kuni is understandably confused at seeing you cocooned in a different spot, but his eyes light up when you explain you'd like to watch something with him.

"That means you're feeling better, right?" He smiles, joining you on the sofa. Before he turns on the TV, he gives you a worried look. "Your head's not going to hurt from the screen's brightness? Or should I lower the sound?"

Just what kind of articles has he been reading? Or did you look that miserable a few days before? "Nope, it's fine!" You assure him. "I got all the way here without getting dizzy, so let's just hang out like we normally do. And… I wanted to say sorry for the trouble. I didn't think I'd get this sick all of a sudden."

"Actually, taking care of you has been a good distraction." Kuni admits. "It gives me something to do, and because I want you to recover, I get to put my energy towards something useful." Not to mention, it's stopped me from brooding about going back to Teyvat.

So long as he’s still here, Kuni has decided he'll simply make the most of the present. There's nothing either of you can do to control what happens later on, and the arrival of your fever knocks him back to his senses about what's important to him.

You've looked out for him, after all. Even taught him to do the little tasks that add up to human routine (back at Shakkei Pavillion, he never had the need or awareness for things like brushing his hair or dusting the room). How could he not treasure your presence? You've become like family to him, or at the very least someone that he hopes to stay connected to.

(Nevermind the people that tease him about following you around like a puppy. They were just impressioned by his early days, is all.)

“...Besides, I think I should also apologize for panicking the other day.” Kuni glances away sheepishly. “I forgot for a second that people can get sick, since I’m not…”

“You’re human to me,” The words slip out before you can catch them. “I mean, everything that you’ve done from the first day you arrived might be considered more humane than some actual mortals.” You joke. “So for what it’s worth, I think you’re just alive as anyone else. Just missing some parts is all.”

His eyes widen, and for a moment you scramble for more reasons to try and smoothen the conversation, only to stop when Kuni lets out a laugh. “Sorry, it’s just–” He gives you a smile, equal parts soft and inexplicably mesmerizing. “I’m starting to think that it’s a good thing I’m a little bit different. That way, I can take care of you whenever you need me.” Kuni raises his pinky finger between you. “Promise to get better as soon as you can?”

You hook your own pinkie with his in agreement. “Promise. And when that happens, I’ll drag you out for a weekend trip outside the city!”

Kuni has always shown an interest in sightseeing, so you thought it’d be nice to have a change of pace and explore somewhere new. With however long you still have together, you’d like to amaze him at least one more time.

>> Part 5