꒰⁺˖͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏Rui Kamishiro ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏˖⁺꒱

#i love you, goodbye

—when they were about to confess their love… but you died / when they fail to confess to you

CHARACTERS. Albedo, Al-Haitham, Cyno, Gorou, Kazuha, Tighnari, Venti, Wanderer/Scaramouche, Xiao; gn! Reader

THEMES. main character death, angst, no comfort

WARNINGS. death (ofc), will not be too graphic

NOTES. still severely sick and stressed so here ya go. grab ur tissues i didn’t hold back in this one.

XIAO knew what love was—knew the affection he held to his brothers and sisters, and the love that emanated from the humans towards each other.

“You do know that humans… humans are very fragile, Xiao.”

He continues to bow his head in front of his god as he agrees, “I do.”

Zhongli said nothing more, but Xiao knew what he meant. It was advice. And a warning.

“Xiao!” You always called him with that beautiful voice of yours, ever so sweet, ever so tender as you bless him with your bright smile—a sun.

You are his sun.

“Xiao!” His heart would flutter once more—why do you have such an effect on him?—but at that point, he knew that no matter how hard he tried or tries to move away, your pull on him was strong, far stronger than the chains that were wrapped around his ever so fragile heart.

“Xiao…” it was on the third call that he decided to show up. He had been fighting enemies for the first two ones, and besides, you usually call him to merely see him or “hang” with him—a word you’d use as you try to lean into his side, your skin brushing his hands—so close yet not tied to each other.

He showed up, but he was far too late.

He was wrong.

“Y/n!” he calls your name this time—shouts it as he quickly approaches your figure.

“Y/n…” he pulls your body to his, empty and hollow, devoid of the same bright sunlight plastered in your face, the same beaming smile and shining eyes that could light up the night—light up his whole world.

“Y/n…” he wanted to say how he loves you so, how you bring out the best of him, and how he wanted to thank you for everything, for your patience, your presence, your love, your mere existence in his karmic-filled life.

But you were not there to hear anything of it.

And so he cries—cries under the same heavens that also took his brothers and sisters, cries because he couldn’t be there to save you when you were probably hurting, and he cries because of his own weakness—how he could love and always have that same love be taken away from him.

┌───────── ·  ·  ·  · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

SCARAMOUCHE has had many betrayals.

But yours probably hurts the most.

“What happened?”

He glared at the Fatuus in front of him, kneeling on their knees with their heads bowed down in shame.

He crouches into one of them and sends daggers with his gaze, “I asked what happened here.”

The Fatuu trembled upon the sound of his voice, “M-my lord… it happened so suddenly, we couldn’t-their sickness-“

“Useless!” He releases a strike of his power and his subordinates immediately move to dodge, but they couldn’t walk away, not when they know that in the end, they can never run away from the Sixth Harbinger.

Yet unexpectedly, he trudges forward, to the big tent that laid in the middle of the camp, his footsteps and breathing heavy, hands trembling—of anger? Of fear?

No. A divine being such as him doesn’t tremble of fear.

Even when his knees give up beside the bed where you currently lay peacefully, even if he tries to control the tears that threaten to escape his eyes, he reaches for your hands.

Cold. So cold—like the night where he picked up the stars and called you as his—his star.

But it seems stars do die as well.

Pathetic.

And he’s even more pathetic to believe that humans will never betray him—that you never would.

┌───────── ·  ·  ·  · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

VENTI sings of love to you, yet today marks the day that he shall confess outrightly—genuinely, with a promise of tomorrow’s kisses and hugs.

“Shhh, darling. No need to worry for me,” he smiles, “rest now. Shall I sing you a lullaby?”

He catches you forcing your own smile, and it pains him how you raise your hand and touch his cheek, which he holds and presses your palm on his skin, as if he was trying to transfer the warmth he has towards your frail form.

“Venti…” you let out your voice, hoarse and weak, “you knew… didn’t you?”

He purses his lips and his chest aches.

“You don’t have to… act like you love me too.”

He fails to catch his own tears, dribbling down his cheeks as he struggles to find the words.

“I-“

“I love you... But please don’t… pretend… for me.”

He squeezes your hand, and just as he was to utter the same words you did, to confess those three words that laid stuck in his throat—

“Y/n?” Instead, it was your name that he attempted to call, then he shook you, only to receive no word back.

“I…” I love you too—he wanted to say, but it died down. Once again.

┌───────── ·  ·  ·  · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

There is danger in the forest, just as much as there are things to discover and admire. That is what TIGHNARI used to say to you.

It was a flora, a flower he had asked you to try and find—the same ones he was collecting for you, a suggestion from Collei for him to profess his love to you.

Let’s get this over with, he thinks. After all, he does love you, and it was an idea that seemed fairly interesting, to ask you to look for a flower and for him to give you the whole bouquet once you reach his side.

The thing is, you never did.

He was silent when he reached the village, his ears downwards as nobody dared to approach him. It was the aura he emitted, the faint heaviness of his footsteps, and the body that he held close to his own.

“Master-“ Collei tries, but someone else stops her, shakes their head as the girl merely frowns. How could this be? She begins to think, one minute you were there and the second…

“Collei,” she casts her thoughts aside as Tighnari finally speaks, yet he doesn’t turn to face them, halted in front of his abode as he adds on, “can you… prepare some water… to clean their wounds.”

“O-of course!” Her heart was pounding, but no matter how unprepared she was to see you-

“I’ll do the rest… don’t worry.” He says before he enters the hut, all alone.

He did not shed a single tear as he cleans your body. But nobody can ever know Tighnari’s cries as he holds his tail close to him, aching for the warmth that you once gave him.

┌───────── ·  ·  ·  · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

KAZUHA’s poems always reach you. No matter how much distance he takes away from you, or crosses to go back into your arms, his poems and his flowery hidden confessions of love always reach your ears.

At the right time, he begs to himself, he will finally be able to say them to your face, when he could rid himself of the shackles of his past and live freely with you.

But those same shackles come and haunt him once again. In the form of yours.

“What happened?”

“I’m sorry… but they were attacked by Hilichurls and…”

“No one was there to save them.” Even as he says the words, there was this ache in his chest and prickle on the tips of his fingers, finally reaching out to your cold hand.

Death is a familiar face for Kazuha, but there is something far too different this time.

This time, he thought he had healed. He thought he was stronger. He even went away for it—only to come back with those same wounds and no one there waiting for him.

He places a kiss on your hand once he finds himself leaned over, unable to go without saying his last goodbye.

“In another life… Y/n,” he whispers in the wind, as if he could feel your presence there, and despite finding it difficult to look at your face without seeing your beautiful eyes and smile, he forces himself and says, “In another life… my dove.”

┌───────── ·  ·  ·  · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

GOROU is a good General.

Anyone who was under him can attain to such, and even you. You respected him so much, trusted him so much.

And loved him so much.

“Gorou!”

He was right in front of you, you were right in front of him. The blade pierces through your body, but it feels like it has pierced his heart as well.

“No, no, Y/n—no!”

“Protect the General and Y/n!” The other soldiers went and gathered around both of you, shielding you both from the upcoming arrows and spears your way.

“Y/n… no, don’t-“ he cries, unable to stop the tears that drip down his eyes.

“General, you have to take them out of here.”

Gorou finally finds the courage to carry you and rush his way to the side, out of reach from the battlefield.

“Retreat!”

As the shouts with the same word echoed around him, he could only hear your voice and feel your touch that reached his ears, that despite your weakening strength, you showed him that smile of yours—no matter how forced or painful it must have been.

“Gorou..”

“No, don’t speak, you don’t have to-you’ll be okay-“

“I’m sorry,” you say as he shakes his head, unable to accept the apology, “I’m sorry I had to die like this.”

“No, you won’t die-you can’t die!” He still has something to say—a lot of things to say. You can’t die now! Not when-

“I love you,” you whisper, out of breath, “so much.”

Those were your last words. And no matter how many soldiers had perished under his command, yours held a hole in his heart that he can never fill—a hole that even a good General can never heal.

┌───────── ·  ·  ·  · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

Everyone feared CYNO—his voice, his face, his spear, his very name, his wrath.

Oh how wrong they were to assume they had seen his wrath—because only until now had he shown it in an intensity no one could have imagined.

“What did you do?” He sneers, scarlet eyes glaring down, only to grab the clothes of the Mercenary, pulling him up without difficulty, “What did you do?”

The Mercenary chuckles despite the predicament he was in. “What? Failed to profess your love to the feeble thing?”

Everyone knew. Every single person in Sumeru knew that you were one of the people who the Great General Mahamatra cherished—probably much more than the few others. After all, you were the one who always stuck beside him, sometimes hiding behind a rock as he fought, or a bush when he talked to someone.

“Shut up! You don’t deserve to even mention them.” Cyno grits his teeth.

“So, I hit the nail, didn’t I?”

The Mahamatra throws the Mercenary away as he closes his fingers into fists.

He may never be able to bring you back.

But he can bring justice to your death, and nobody can ever escape the grasps of Cyno.

Except for you.

You slipped away before he can even tell you what he wanted to say, and now, there was no turning back.

┌───────── ·  ·  ·  · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

AL-HAITHAM never regrets.

Regret is an emotion he had found to be so useless, and with that experimental mind of his, mistakes are merely normal, and if there was no point or way to try again, he can just discard the plan.

But there was no way he could discard you.

“It’s the Scribe!”

Everyone’s murmurs overcome the hall and he frowns even more.

How could he be so… unplanned with this.

“Scribe, we saw their body when-“

He motions for them to go away, and wordlessly, they do, quite remarkable, he thinks. But maybe, it was their pity—was he obvious? Of course, he was. He had tried so hard to amuse you, to make you feel his feelings despite the outer appearance and expression he had always kept. But you were as dense as a rock.

And unfortunately, he was wrong this time around.

“So this… is what regret feels like.” he mutters the words as he spares you his last glance, his last words, and his last time, all before he goes and turns away, an ache in his chest that he knew but can never rid. Not now, at least.

┌───────── ·  ·  ·  · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

If ALBEDO was asked what was the meaning of life, he wouldn’t still be able to answer outrightly.

To live? To love? To spend time with others?

There can be a lot of answers—to anyone else, his answer could be very well different.

Well, he thought he did have an answer. But maybe, life was just too cruel to him—him, a homunculus that doesn’t know life and death and only knows how to survive.

But you taught him how to love.

Of course, he does love Klee, but the love you taught him was different, far too warm, too genuine, a romantic kind of love that he had not experienced in his whole life.

“I love you, but you don’t have to love me too. I’ll always be here for you, bedo!” Those were your words, and he clung to these words despite the stirring feelings his mechanical heart was feeling.

So warm. So genuine.

“I apologize,” he breathes out, “But I did love you too, Y/n… I apologize for never voicing it out. I’m sorry…”

And now he stares at the gravestone in front of him, written was your name that he used to always call out, used to always associate with the bright sun or the moon or the stars—anything that was too beautiful for this world—you were too precious for this world, and maybe that’s why life itself had to meddle and steal you away from those who loved you—from him.

If Albedo is asked what was the meaning of life, he’d probably tell of the love you gave, and the love he failed to give—to never do anything that makes you regret, or you’ll end up just like him.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!!

(taglist either on reblogs or comments)

What’s in a Name? | Scaramouche/Wanderer x Reader

The Wanderer has accumulated so many titles over the years, you wonder if you can give him one of your own.

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, You’re not the Traveler, Slightly OOC? (Idk man just let me write my fluff 😭)

Word Count: 1.2k

Warning: This was loosely inspired by a potential leak for the 3.3 Archon Quest so please don’t read if you don’t want spoilers. Also not proofread WHOOPS

A/N: I usually post on my laptop but I’ve only got my phone right now so the formatting’s a little off. I’ll fix it up once I get access to my laptop again 👍

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“That staring. It’s disturbing.”

In truth you didn’t realise you were staring. You couldn’t help it when there was nothing else to do. The two of you had found a freshwater lake to recuperate at. The two of you situated on your respective rocks by the water, your gaze naturally drifted to him when he took up your mind.

Despite travelling together for months, the stubborn little man was somewhat of an enigma to you. But the mystery wasn’t his past - you were fortunate to have him finally open up to you - but what you two were. Months of wandering through Teyvat with no choice but to trust each other with your lives and you still had nothing to personally call him by.

You cleared your throat as you angled yourself towards him.

“So, uh, Scaramouche-“

“It’s Wanderer now.”

“Right, sorry. Force of habit. Can I ask-“

“No, you can not.”

“… Rude. Anyway, is Wanderer a new name? Or a title like ‘Balladeer’?”

“It’s a title.”

“Can I ask what your name is now?”

“… Wanderer is a title and name.”

He always thought he was slick, skirting around answers but he always conveyed more information than he realised. How his cold gaze went from hostile to distant but lonely all the same. He simply had no name, not anymore.

A title can only go so far. You remembered a time you met the fabled Traveler, and instead of calling them such, called them by their actual name the instant they entrusted it to you. You’d never forget the special glint in their eyes when they heard it.

How far could the blue themed man beside you last walking aimlessly across Teyvat with nothing to hold onto except for the very clothes on his back and hat on his head?

“Do you want a name?”

“What’s with all these questions?”

“I’m just curious. If you haven’t realised, your situation is pretty unique.”

“I told you the name is ‘Wanderer’.”

“That’s pretty lame.”

“You-“ His head snapped to you, face lit up in anger until he saw the teasing smile creeping up your face. He didn’t bother stifling his groan as he rolled his eyes and angled his head back to the ground.

“I’m figuring out a new one,” he replied.

“I could give you a name if you want.”

“No.”

“What, are you worried I’m going to give you a stupid name?”

“I know you’re going to give me a stupid name.”

“I’ll have you know my pet seelie loves the name I gave them.”

“That isn’t reassuring.”

Pouting, you turned your full body to him.

“If not a name, can I give you another title then?”

He fell silent, facing forwards to the water as he averted your gaze. His face was unreadable but it was better than his perpetual scowl so that was a good sign, at least.

The Wanderer, hoping you have given up your antics, spared a glance at you only to snap it back to the water when your eyes met. He blames the scorching sun for his cheeks heating up, even though his hat shrouds his entire figure in shade.

“You don’t have to take the title up yourself,” you bargained. “Just a little thing I can call you myself.”

Scaramouche shot you a look that said if anything, that’s worse. But then after some contemplation and mutterings of ‘how the hell do I put up with you’ he shifts a little closer to you. As always, when it came to you he found himself relenting.

“Fine.”

“Thank you, my love,” you beamed.

One second.

Two.

Three.

The Wanderer almost fell into the water.

“You-“ He’s nearly choking on air, dryly coughing into the back of his fist as he sat on the ground having fallen off his makeshift chair. “I- huh- what?!”

“Shhh, you’re going to wake up the entire forest at this rate,” you snickered before you leaned over him, offering a hand to him. He stared at it like it was a foreign appendage before batting your hand away and scrambling up on his own. Situating himself back on his rock, he angled himself away from both you and the water. You didn’t even bother to hide your crestfallen expression.

“Your attempts at humour are pathetic.”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

You faced him still, fighting how every fibre in your body was telling you to look away with how he scrutinised you over his shoulder. He needed to know you meant it, you prayed silently to the archons he knew from your face how genuine you were. But at the sound of his scowl you instantly moved away and faced out to the water.

It had been a long time since the Wanderer was given a title beyond one he set for himself. Of course, “Balladeer” was appointed by the Tsaritsa, but since when was such a title so affectionate? A title so personal, so full of warmth. His first title was the title of “friend”, given to him by someone he would call “friend” back.

And look where that got them. Look how such a title caused him to be left behind.

And now somewhat wants to call him “my love”? Especially you, of all people? The very one who has been transforming his perspective on the world even though he wanted to be stuck in his old ways? The sunlight wasn’t warm enough as a shiver went down his spine.

“No one has used such a title for me before,” he stated as he reoriented himself to face you again, heart cracking just a little at your dejected figure. You jumped at his voice, but you didn’t look at him, eyes focused on your hand that created ripples in the water that sparkled under the daylight. He wanted to continue and say that such titles are weak but his mouth only hung open. No more words came out, but why?

In his silence, you eventually came to face him. You tried to play off your smile as cheeky but he knew better. It was timid, masking over your true vulnerability and uncertainty.

“Well then, I can be the first…?”

His eyes were distant as he looked straight ahead at nothing in particular. On his face, a small but rare smile as he clicked his tongue in mock contemplation.

“Hm… I guess you can.”

Blinking, you shook your head in disbelief. Did you just hear that right? The Wanderer accepting the title you offered him? When you refocused on him, his head was down, hat tipped over his burning face as he looked away.

“We’ve rested long enough. We should keep moving...”

You nod dumbly, hurriedly moving past him to pack your items. As you brushed shoulders with him, your momentum sent a breeze against your ears, the gentle wind carrying a whisper.

“… my love.”

You whipped around to the source of the voice to see the Wanderer looking very amused. Wearing the widest smirk, you’d believe he was mocking you save for the rouge dusting his cheeks, how his icy irises were only thin rings against his dilated pupils.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

You shook your head, not trusting your voice so you sent him a bright smile as response. A smile that he couldn’t help but mirror as he tipped his hat back down over his face.

Genshin Impact Masterlist

🎸: v_loAlo / yuyu_NA_yuyu

❝ 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 ❞

𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗶 𝗵𝘆𝗼𝗺𝗮 is a lifesaver when it comes to packing necessities for trips. skin too dry? he has moisturiser ready. hungry on the road? he already has a snack in his hand. you’re usually forgetful so he always nags about packing well and jotting notes down.

“oh no.” chigiri perks up at how distressed you sound.

“what’s wrong?” he queries as he walks to your side and finds you with a worried expression, looking at the baggage.

“i don’t think i have enough pads,” you whined. now you had to go all the way to a convenience store that’s four bus stops away. you hear chigiri sigh, walk away and come back with- “A PAD!” you squeal and jumped into his arms.

“i knew you would-“ you’re kissing him all over, “forget to-“ forehead, cheek, nose, chin, “bring- stop.” he laughs and smiles.

“no way you actually bought pads.”

“yes way,” he smiles, “wouldn’t want a grumpy woman on a trip.” he mumbles, going in for a peck on the lips.

you playfully smack him away with the pad and walk off into the bathroom. “hope you like scented pads!” you hear him from the other side of the door. oh, what would you do without him.

✎ ೃ࿔

nagi seishiro sleeps. this guy can sleep like the dead. in a taxi, on the way back to the hotel, the moment he takes the seat, he’s drop dead. and that’s a problem. and it’s happening right now.

you’re in a new environment, gosh you don’t even know whether the driver is driving the right way, your way too nervous, especially for a holiday. right, a holiday, you told yourself to relax, i mean, it is a holiday…

few moments later, you get anxious because this road does not look familiar. at all. you clasp nagi’s hands, trying to wake him up.

he groans and groggily opens his eyes, “yeah?” he yawns out.

“you think we’re going the right way?” you whisper and he looks out of the window and looks back at you.

“where are we?” you smack his shoulder.

“you pig!” you loudly whisper, hoping the driver doesn’t think your insulting him instead.

“ouch babe,” he rubs his shoulder, “hey don’t worry,”

“how?!” you frown at him, “for all i know, we might be heading to our deaths,” and you peer closer to nagi’s ear, “this driver might be planning to kill us!”

he chuckles, “love your imagination,” he pats your hand, “don’t worry.” he yawns again and returned to sleep.

you smack him once more, this time harder, “you better not sleep,” he mocks a pain expression.

“hey,” he places his hands on your shoulders, “if anything, i’ll be by your side,” then he cups your face, “i’ll protect you.” he opens his arms, gesturing for a cuddle. you couldn’t help but sigh into his embrace.

‘bang’ the car engines goes and then a hump that makes both of you jump, trees and fog surrounds the car.

“baby,” you heard your knight-in-shining armour call.

“yeah?”

“think you can start worrying now.”

✎ ೃ࿔

isagi yoichi is a precious little bean. he can’t say no to you. and what’s more worrying than taking rollercoasters in the cold, with the strong, icy winds vigorously hitting the skin, it will be glacial. 

“baby, it’s fine,” 

“you can get hypothermia and i don’t want to risk that,” isagi retorts. 

you then stated many reasons how everything’s going to be ok and if there was really something wrong, you would have seen many dead people in the amusement park right now. 

this precious baby genuinely took a moment to think about your statement and finally gave in. 

you guys took many rides, shrieking and laughing with one another, but came out shivering. 

you see isagi rubbing both of his hands, trying to warm them up. so you intertwined your fingers with his and place them in your pocket, “thank you. for riding the rides,” 

he blinks at you, “you don’t have to thank me,” 

“oh look at you, shivering and all. you could have chosen not to take them but, you did.” you keep his hands tight in yours and pecked him on the cheek. “you could have gotten hypothermia,” you tut jokingly.

isagi chuckles at your remark, “i wouldn’t mind getting it for you,” 

in such chilly weather, you didn’t need a hot shower or cozy drink or a heater to warm you. you just needed him, your one and only, he could melt your heart, make you feel comfortable and mellow. make you feel as though you’re home. 

you look at him with adoration and gave him little pecks, “thank you.” 

he smiles into your kisses and returns it, “anything for you, my love.” 

✎ ೃ࿔

itoshi rin wants to experience many new things with you. he simply just does, he wants you to be many of his firsts. you’re special to him.

you spot an ice rink with many people enjoying their time skating and you’re quick to grab itoshi’s shoulder and lead him to the skates.

when entering the rink, you’re squealing with excitement and itoshi just wanted to capture this moment. with the snow falling, bustling movements, lights that glow with your beauty, you fill him with contentment.

“come on!” you wave to itoshi but this is where he hesitates a little.

he might have a good build and all but balancing on slippery surfaces isn’t one of his strengths. he’s gripping the railings at the side, shuffling with tiny steps. while your busy taking photos, you hear a ‘thud’.

you turn around only to find you’re strong, well reserved partner on the floor with the most horrid expression, you couldn’t help but start laughing. you saw itoshi’s deadpan face glaring at you and knew he needed help getting up. you smoothly skate towards while giggling, “skill issue,”

“you,” itoshi gritted out and just when you were about to hold him up, he drags you down and you land on him with a yelp.

you smack him, “the ice is so cold, and my jeans are wet now!” you look up to itoshi and see a sight. his hair was filled with droplets of snow and you burst out laughing, “and you look HAHAH,”

“what?” he stares at you but the more you laughed, the sooner he joined in. he was so glad to experience these moments with you.

✎ ೃ࿔

A/N: these were all inspired by moments i had with my athletic ass man, really wouldn’t have these precious moments without him and i’ve never been happier. to the readers, enjoy your holidays !!

യ. mornings with them part 2 .ᐟ

യ. kazuha, xiao, albedo, scara / fluff / wc 0.3k / pls reblog !!

യ. note: also from my previous blog lol but part 3 will actually be written and it'll include cyno, tighnari, and the others !

kazuha being the one who would lightly snore in his sleep - pretty handsy too. his hands would end up everywhere, your waist, your stomach, your arms, it has no limits. but every morning kazuha likes to inhale your scent - the scent of the sheets with the mix of your shampoo that you used when you showered the previous night. he smiles, stupidly in fact. you ask him what he's so happy about first thing in the morning but he told you to not mind it and just continue sleeping - you have more than enough time, anyways.

xiao being the one who yawns a lot. which makes you yawn with him too. he's sprawling on the bed, arms out and staring at the ceiling as he tries not to fall asleep again. you sit at your side of the bed, stretching until he pulls you back under the covers. xiao's arms wrapped around you and he soon falls asleep with you in his arms.

albedo being the one who's already so romantic first thing in the morning. he just couldn't help it, he felt so lucky to have you. he felt lucky that he gets to wake up with you every morning. albedo's hands made its way onto yours and locked your fingers together, pressing a small kiss on your knuckles. you were already awake but you decided to seem like you're still sleeping so he can have his little moment.

scaramouche being the one who seems so peaceful while he sleeps. he'd usually have that sadistic smile or that scowl on his face on a daily basis. but with you he shows more facial expressions, positive ones. a small curve of his lips as he watched you cook every morning for your breakfast, an expression of fear when he checks if you're injured, scaramouche expresses himself more when he's with you. but you love it the most when he looks so peaceful sleeping.

nothing less.

(kazuha x asexual!reader)

warnings: hints of nsfw, mainly fluff, pet names, reader is hinted at being on the ace spectrum, overall just very cute

the embrace was familiar.

the hands that ghosted over your waist did little to nothing to quench the uneasy feeling in your stomach, nor did it help you hide the frown on your features.

the silence in the air was almost suffocating, and the tension felt as if it was thickening with every second that passed between you and your lover.

his hands trailed up to your face, caressing your cheek with his calloused palm; a small reminder of the battles he has fought, sword in hand.

a small yet comforting smile adorned his face as you both locked eyes, his tender touch causing a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“my muse,”

his thumb wiped away a stray tear, before moving to put your hair behind your ear. “if you’re feeling uncomfortable, there is no rush to carry on.”

his tone sounded even softer than what it was usually; the solemn expression he wore silently telling you it was okay.

fitting, really, considering how vulnerable you both were in this moment.

you expected nothing less from the wandering samurai.

“i…” breaking eye contact, you felt guilt seep into your burning skin. “i don’t want to leave you unsatisfied, kazuha.”

he chuckled at that, closing his eyes. “i’m satisfied, dove. your very presence is enough for me, i wouldn’t ask for more.”

he looked beautiful like this, you thought. the moonlight leaking in from the window lit up his features; he was nothing short of divine.

so why was this so hard? denying him? any other person would jump for the opportunity, which begs the question: why haven’t you?

“i love you, so, so much.” a deep breath. “i just have no desire to… do this… i’m sorry.” your voice had turned into a whisper by the end, you were finding it hard to say anything else.

“and… i love you more than anything, no matter what. so why feel guilty?” he pressed his forehead to yours, your noses bumping ever so slightly. “your lack of sexual desire won’t stop me from loving you, my muse.”

a weight was lifted off your shoulders as he said that.

sighing softly, you cuddled into him, your head on his chest as his fingers smoothed over your hair.

“never change, y/n.” he cooed, similar to a bird singing into the night sky.

“i wouldn’t have you any other way.”

||⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Anemo boys.

⠀ ¡⠀۰  ⠀神﹕⠀genshin matching icons.

The artist is @/yionyi23 on twitter . ♡ —like and reblog if saved.

#kunikuzushi, how do you love? 

—rewritten relationship headcanons (from “scaramouche, how do you love?” )

THEMES. (pre)relationship, fluff, domestic, character analysis, love languages, use of his real name

NOTES. okay, just a little bit of storytime on how i was so tempted to write this (albeit again) is that recently my mom got fractured and as i am an only child and away from home since i’m going to uni and in a dorm, it’s my dad who’s taking care of my mom. and oh my god. both scara and my dad are capricorns and their bdays are even next to each other,,, and i just cant help but like compare their love languages a bit (it may sound weird but trust me this will be good)

WANDERER / KUNIKUZUSHI 

He knows love—knows its meaning, knows what it does, and knows what its consequences are. Love is but a rose with thorns, pricking whoever chooses to admire its beauty and immerse them in its pleasure. Love is a danger, and far too humanly him. 

It will not be long until he recognizes this disgusting feeling since he met you. 

But as he was his own person, he chose not to identify it—to call it by its name. Out of fear? No. Out of instincts. 

He who didn’t have a heart suddenly felt love? Preposterous. Absurd. He wasn’t human, nor will he stoop so low to pretend to be one. 

Yet he underestimated you far too much—your… charm… so to speak, along with the unpredictability of your actions. How you show up and how your lips curl up in a gentle smile and how his name slips out of them ever so… gentle. Everything about you is gentle, and kind, and so… so-

“Good morning, Kunikuzushi” 

His jaw tightens and he dreaded for the sudden presence almost immediately as it had appeared. 

“It’s you.” It’s always been you—the only one that actually makes him want to run away from. But he won’t, no. He wouldn’t give you the pleasure to know, not ever. 

“It’s me,” you smiled, “hey, I haven’t seen you for a while. You even changed your outfit! Blue looks good on you.” 

He scoffs, almost out of instinct. It is true that it has been a while since he last saw you and yet, it felt like it was just yesterday. And with that thought, he couldn’t bear to look directly in your eyes that with a hand on his hat, he looks away. 

“There’s no need for pleasantries,”—like usual, he replies, and he adds on, “but it’s not much of a surprise to see you again, Y/n.” 

Which actually translates to “it’s nice to see you again”. 

Keep reading

These flowers will never fade.

Synopsis: your mind doesn’t remember his name, your heart burns with the impression he left. You keep searching for someone you are certain you knew, someone you know you loved. When you see him again, does your soul still know who he used to be?

Featuring: Scaramouche x gender neutral reader.

Content warnings: spoilers for the 3.3 quest, this takes place right after the quest’s ending; angst to fluff, amnesia (if you’ve played the quest, you know what i mean), reader is implied to originate from Inazuma, implied friends to lovers (?), reader cries, but there’s a happy ending and some soft kissing, soft scara.

Author’s note: this is kind of a novelty for me, different from what i’m used to writing, i had so much fun creating this story, so i hope it’s enjoyable!

Acknowledgements: thank you so much Bunny for being the first one to read this piece and liking it, that makes me immensely happy, genuinely!

You don’t quite recall when it started, this feeling, as if you miss someone, every day. Sometimes, in dreams, you see this person, him. He is always with his back turned to you, cyan and azure clothes fluttering in the breeze, just out of your reach, for, every time, when your fingertips are close to reaching him, the dream ends, a gust of wind and the same small bird on your windowsill greeting you good morning.

This sensation gnaws at you every time the dream repeats, your heart rate accelerates, its thunder urging you to find this person, to calm the storms battling inside your mind. Who is he? You are not sure. And who is he to you? Your heart answers in whispers that you loved him, but you don’t remember when that was. Was it years ago? Or perhaps you just fell in love with the idea of the mysterious stranger who keeps entering your dreams? Deciding not to dwell longer on your thoughts for now, you get dressed and exit your room.

The inn you’re staying at is nice and small, the occasional chatter or people hurrying to start their days, paired with the natural light entering through stained glass windows making for an atmosphere reminiscent of sunny days. You smile, looking up at Sumeru’s bright blue sky. Perhaps today you’ll find answers, for the first time since you started this journey, leaving your homeland behind, the realm ruled by eternity fading to green fields under the protection of the archon of wisdom.

The wanderer, formerly a man of many names, has his eyes set on the horizon, a golden outline against a backdrop of mist flower blue and snapdragon orange, another day coming to a close.

Erasing himself from history doesn’t seem to have affected the general outcome of events; in the end, he could not save those he cherished, and everything turned out to be the same.

However, now that Scaramouche has recovered his memories and decided to bear the burden of his sins, there is a certain memory concerning someone he hadn’t lost, but who might have forgotten him: you. You, who always trailed behind him, trying to make conversation when he set foot in Inazuma, not as the Kabukimono, not as Kunikuzushi, but as the Balladeer; you, who greeted him with smiles and soft words, even when he snapped at you; you, who found their way into the hollowness of the heart he longed for; you, who Scaramouche was certain he knew, even when no memories remained. And he has no one else to blame for this, except himself.

What are the chances you two cross paths again? What is the likelihood some part of you still remembers him, like Scaramouche did when his own memories were erased? The wanderer sighs, closing his eyes briefly, hands gripping the railing of the terrace in front of the Sanctuary of Surasthana. Even if you did have memories of him, is he really worthy of you? Does he dare speak the words his make-believe heart wrote in the lips he kept silent?

Conflicted, Scaramouche opens his eyes again, the image of an early night starry sky coming into view, as he wonders whether he can bring himself to face you again, if the same stars he once deemed to be a lie weave the threads of this hypothetical fate in his favor, that is.

The last rays of a late sun kiss your skin once more, as the outlined horizon turns from raging reds and purples to azure and starlight golden. Your eyes scan the distant skies, glittering with stars, didn’t someone once tell you they were fake? No matter, you think, gaze fixated in the faraway pinpricks of light.

A wish you dare not murmur crosses your mind, and you silently ask the stars above to guide you, to help you find the man you keep seeing in your dreams. You think you loved him once, but you can’t recall his face or his name, for that matter… Is he in the same situation, wherever he wanders? You wonder.

With these muddled thoughts, your steps carry you through Sumeru city, arriving finally at the Sanctuary of Surasthana. There are still some people around, a researcher and a man dressed in Inazuman attire seem to be discussing something; a blond girl in a peculiar dress is talking to a child? a floating child? you can’t quite tell, perhaps is some new technology, or it could be the renowned traveler everyone talks about and her floating companion; some more civilians seem to be milling around, and then, your gaze focuses on a peculiar figure: he is dressed in hues that match the early night sky, lighter blues merging into more intense tones, like the waves that lap against Inazuma’s coast. You can’t see his face, but, from the back, you spot uneven locks of black hair, the aura around him unknowable, inscrutable, as the very night sky he seems to have walked out of. On top of his head sits a wide brimmed hat, in the same shades of blue, two teal silky ribbons swishing behind him as he walks.

Then, you know. It’s him, the one who’s been appearing in your dreams for archons know how long.

Without thinking it twice, you break into a run to catch up to him.

When you’re about to reach for him, though, you hesitate. What are you even going to tell him? That you dream of him? That you are sure you know him but you don’t remember his name? No, that doesn’t seem like the best course of action…

Not even a second later, your thoughts would be interrupted by a colliding force.

“Hey, would you mind looking where you are- …” Scaramouche’s eyes widen at the sight before him, his words dying in his throat. There, right before him, lying on the ground, is you.

“I’m sorry, I- …” You trail off, your own gaze mesmerized by his features. Deep blue-violet eyes lined in red stare back at you, widened, some dark strands of hair falling over his surprised expression. His skin is pale, porcelain-like, spotless, but if your eyes don’t deceive you, you could swear his cheeks are coloring in pink.

The sight of him is familiar, everything about him, you know you have seen before; his face, somewhere outside your dream, you remember it now, but why? Why is it you can’t recall his name? What is this feeling of knowing you loved him somewhere along the way? Who was he? And who is he now?

Your train of thought is interrupted, his voice, familiar.

“Are you okay?” He asks, fair hand reaching for yours, pulling you up from the ground.

As his skin makes contact with yours, a scene flashes before your eyes.

“So, will you tell me?” You sing-song, skipping along, a few steps before him. “Why do you always speak harshly when you care so much?” You turn around, light pink cherry blossom petals falling around him, the afternoon sun casting an ethereal glow around his figure. You smile, catching a petal that landed on his shoulder, holding it between your fingertips.

“None of your business.” He grumbles, cheeks matching the color of the flowers around you, lilac eyes averted to the side.

You chuckle.

“Hm, so you say but…” You take one of his hands in yours, and although he grumbles a little, the boy makes no attempt to pull away. “You seem to be a little happier when I come to see you.” You regard him, a knowing glint in your eyes. “Are those fatui guys overworking you?” Your gaze darkens, expression somber. You don’t really know what orders does your friend (who you have more than platonic feelings for) receive from the fatui, but you notice how always that he returns from missions, he is visibly tired and overexerted.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” He replies, monotonously, as if that same sentence had fallen from his lips thousands of times.

Observing how his expression numbs at the topic, you decide to lighten the mood and, playing with the delicate pink petal you’re still holding, you ask him:

“What do you wish for, Balladeer?” You give him an encouraging smile, then add: “Don’t say it aloud, just think about it, let me know when you’re done.”

The harbinger looks at you, nodding, then: “Okay, done.”

Softly, you blow the petal in your hand, scattering it to the wind grazing the islands of Inazuma.

“There,” you hold his hand again. “Now it will become true, as long as you keep desiring it.”

“I wished for you, [Y/n].” are the words Scaramouche would keep locked inside the heart he yearned for.

Now you remember him. Balladeer was how he introduced himself to you the first time you met him back home. A close friend, what he became next. And the one your heart longed for was what he ended up being the more time you spent together. Yet, you never confessed that to him. Not that you had that much time anyway, you now recall how he left Inazuma one night, never showing up at the spot you usually met, not tomorrow, not the next.

“Ballad-” Your words are cut off.

“Shh, don’t. You remember me, I see.” Scaramouche smiles, perhaps more tender and genuine than you remember. His pointer finger rests on the curve of your lips, effectively keeping you from speaking. “But I’m afraid I do not use that name, anymore, my dear [Y/n].”

It’s true, his attire is quite different from what you remember it to be, and for some reason, you had forgotten about him altogether… But you know he is the same man you fell in love with.

Before you can hold them back, silent tears start falling down your face. He wipes them away with the backs of his fingers, pulling you closer to where his heart should be.

“Then…” You sniffle, trying to contain the sobs threatening to leave your throat. “What should I call you? Why couldn’t I remember you?”

Carefully, he brings your head to rest on his shoulder, and the cries you previously contained now pool out of you like water from a broken dam.

“I dreamt of you, so many nights, but I couldn’t remember who you were!” you cry into his shirt. “I could never see your face in my dreams and I couldn’t remember it when I woke up either, but I knew, I knew you were important to me, I knew you were someone I love and I…”

You can’t bring yourself to go on, more tears blurring your vision.

Scaramouche’s own field of vision becomes tampered with unshed tears, but he shakes his head. Emotions used to make him think he was weak, but now it’s a whole other reason that makes him want to stay strong: for you.

He hugs your form, squeezing you, reassuring you. He’s here now, you found your way to each other, despite it all. Perhaps it was written in the stars all over, maybe it is you two who commanded the threads of your destinies to intertwine once more, but you’re together again.

The wanderer holds your chin between two of his fingers, guiding your tear stained face and shiny eyes to his. For a brief instant he pauses, the question that needs no words hanging between you both.

Through crystalline tears that catch the moonlight, you smile up at him, a little bashful.

With soft eyes of violet, his own lips curve into a smile of his own before locking them with yours.

Scaramouche tastes the salt of your starlit tears and the bittersweet yearning you brought from your dreams of him. Your lips feel so tender against his, the night breeze slightly ruffling your hair and clothes. The wanderer’s hands cup your cheeks, and he thumbs away at the remaining tears, scattering them into moonlight, like you did with that delicate petal the afternoon he made his wish.

Your fingers tangle in the smooth locks of his dark hair, trying to pull him closer to you, to the heartbeat he’s so long desired, to the heartbeat that’s been longing for him, even when your mind could not recall his face or name.

Tilting his head to the side, Scaramouche deepens the kiss, every doubt he had before fading away every second your intoxicatingly sweet lips are in touch with his. It feels like returning to one’s own old home, walls overgrown with vines, no lights on, but the same colorful flowers still growing and thriving in the lonely garden.

Reluctantly, you both pull away, catching your breaths. Your lover rests his forehead against yours, his fingers locking with your own, holding onto your hands, to never let go again. To you, and to any stars above that are listening, he whispers:

“My wish has become true. Right now.”