Tiddie Pillow

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

Veliona ' Seele ' Layout Like / reblog if use Psd by cocobear019?? ( pls correct admin if he's wrong .i forgor, i made this a long time back )

lay me down to sleep, p.2.

summary: you die in their arms (ft. alhaitham, scaramouche, la signora, kokomi).

notes: 1.1k words, drabbles, angst, reader death, mentions of violence and blood

Alhaitham

In your final moments, Alhaitham can do nothing but hold you.

Your injuries are fatal. Even if a healer could get to you in time, you’re losing too much blood. There is nothing more he can do to save you.

Your breathing is shallow as Alhaitham tries to ease your pain, stroking your face in that way you so love. Your eyes are stuttering closed as you fight in vain to keep your gaze locked on him.

“I want to go on a date again,” you say lightly, as if this was an ordinary afternoon spent lazing around his flat.

“This weekend, maybe. I can take a break.”

Keep reading

✿︎ ʾʿ  ׅ ࣪ 🥛  ׅ࣪  ╻ 私とスカラムーシュが猫を飼う >_<

[ art Liann1009 credit if use <3 ] repost.

𝟐:𝟎𝟑 𝐀𝐌

fluff, hints at a fight that happened so minimal hurt/comfort, sooo much swearing, ooc rin bc he's so hard to write wtf he has a personality of an apple but i love him &lt;3

it’s 2 am.

it’s 2 am and someone is knocking on your door like a madman.

you were simply trying to catch some shut eye, exhausted from a day of grieving and almost breaking down into tears on several occasions. the accumulation of a shitty day, a stressful deadline, and the massive fight you had with your boyfriend, itoshi rin, two days ago, really committed to keeping your day melancholic at best. sleep was everything you needed right now, both for its regenerative and escapist purposes.

yet again, you really cannot catch a break from the spite of the universe because it is out of rage that you find yourself walking towards your front door; an anger that dissipates when you see who it is on the other side.

1/3 of the reason why your day sucked. your painfully beautiful boyfriend.

the argument you had with rin was left open-ended on whether the relationship should continue or not. to you, it seemed as though both parties were at different opinions, with you wanting to maintain what you had. after two days of not responding to your texts, you suppose that that had been a short way of answering the ambiguity.

willingly, although reluctantly, you open the door, preparing to end something that you were not ready to let go.

he’s sweaty and he’s panting. did he run up the stairs or something, why is he so puffed? how is he so pretty despite that?

“hey,” you begin, feeling small in his presence. rin bores through you with his teal eyes, not saying anything. you cringe at the silence.

“i appreciate the effort but y’know, if you wanted to make our breakup official couldn’t you have done it at a reasonable hour, rin?”

his eyes narrow at that statement, betraying his usually stoic expression with furrowed brows and an agape mouth. confused. he’s confused, but you don’t see any of it because you find the floor more interesting than your boyfriend (?).

with a deep inhale, you just decide to go for it. if he’s not going to declare it, then you will. “look, rin, maybe you’re right, if this relationship is holding you back then maybe it is best we-“

“-the olive theory.”

“excuse me?”

the first words this man utters to you after two days… is the olive theory?

the dark-haired continues. “the olive theory, we’re- we’re supposed to be compatible.”

you are way over your head right now. did you even wake up? is this a dream? why is your, usually all-straight-talk, boyfriend talking to you about the olive theory at 2am, stammering whilst doing so? what kind of hallucination is this?

“rin, what?”

“i like olives, you hate them, we’re meant to work, and i don’t think i can continue on like this.”

you blink once, twice, three times before pointing at him. “you’re telling me that we’re compatible, yet in the same sentence, telling me that we should break up?”

"i didn’t want to break up?”

“but you just said you can’t continue on like this, what else do you mean?” your voice is at a hushed whisper at best, and although you wanted to raise it louder, you fear that your neighbours would not be happy.

“i meant that i can’t continue on without you!”

silence.

“i’ve become so co-dependent on you that i fucking hate it. i can’t fucking function without you, even that fuckhead isagi knows that i’m off and it’s all because of you. it’s only been two fucking days and i’m not landing 60% of my goals, i’m not receiving 20% of my passes correctly, and i keep tripping over myself, you’re ruining me, y/n.”

the flurry of emotions within you triples, and you’re so flabbergasted that no words can escape your mouth. truthfully, you can't think straight, but if you could, the words would fizzle out in your throat before they even saw the light of day.

“if i have to suffer any more of this stupid silence between us then i might kill a bitch. that bitch being the antennae freak.”

even more silence, and rin is practically begging you with his gaze to say something. funnily enough, the next thing you murmur is out of reflex: “don’t say that about shidou.”

he groans. “if i didn’t love you, i would choke you right now.” wow, itoshi rin has a way with words.

the threat causes you to crack a smile. “well, good thing you love me,” you mutter whilst grabbing him by the wrists to pull him inside your apartment. “and it’s a good thing i love you too.”

“well no shit, we’ve been in a relationship for-“

“-shut up and kiss me, you smooth talker.”

the soccer player smirks in amusement before leaning forward, closing the physical and metaphorical space between you, soothing the heartache with gentle touches and a fervent need to love one another.

༊* BONUS:

“why are you here at 2 am? i thought you, of all people, would be fast asleep.”

“tried to, can’t sleep without you- you’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?”

you smile fondly as he hooks an arm around you waist, collapsing into you as a way of saying that he doesn’t mean his rough words. “so i’m just another bedwarmer?” you ask teasingly.

he grumbles a ‘tch’, digging his nose into your nape. “you’re an idiot.”

“thank you, love. speaking of bedwarming, can we go to sleep?” perfectly paired with a yawn, rin looks at you with slight guilt in his eyes before dragging you down the memorised path to your bedroom.

once there, he wastes little time in dragging you into the sanctuary of your bed, and you let out a sigh of content when rin turns off the lights and pulls the covers up. instinctively, your hands retreat to his hair, carding through them.

he’s holding you close, hands resting protectively around your waist.

“we have a lot to talk about in the morning, but did you not get any of my texts?”

“you texted?”

“…yeah?”

“oh yeah, i remember now that i blocked you after our fight.”

you mercilessly smother him with your pillow.

ONCE AGAIN, I AM AWARE HALF OF THEM ARE FLAT.

featuring. alhaitham, scaramouche/wanderer, kaveh, dottore, xiao

author drivel. look at me go, i finally made the 2nd part after what.. 4/5 months? (typical me behaviour ngl). reason it's so belated is cuz the app i make these things in got messed up and the pfps all disappeared and for a long time i couldn’t be asked to fix it lmao🗿

contents. lots of crack, not nsfw, but it can get pretty suggestive lmao

✤ 𝐭𝐱𝐭 𝐫𝐱𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝟐

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐰𝐨

al haitham

I'M FUCKING FINALLY NOT LYING THROUGH MY TEETH WHEN I WRITE THIS SHIT LETS GO

scaramouche

this man(let) is like a victorian man when it comes to anything more than sitting next to each other and you can’t convince me otherwise.

kaveh

to explain the nickname: kaveh -> sounds like coffee -> coffee beans

dottore

the dottores "own(ed)" one phone between the bunch of them, despite it originally being omega's. y/n is just kinda like the communal s/o in a way. also, omega will use ~ over my dead body.

xiao

the image used there is some beta art of xiao where he's got a vacuumed seal shirt for some reason (even more so than normal)

I love him 😔

The owl so cute 💕

Huhu😖

𝕎ℍ𝕐 𝔸ℝ𝔼 𝕋ℍ𝔼𝕐 𝕊𝕆 𝔻𝔸𝕄ℕ ℙℝ𝔼ℂ𝕀𝕆𝕌𝕊?

𝙸 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙼 𝚂𝙾 𝙳𝙰𝙼𝙽 𝙼𝚄𝙲𝙷! 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈 𝙼𝙴𝙰𝙽 𝙻𝙸𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚈 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚈𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙾 𝙼𝙴!  𝙼𝚈 𝙱𝙰𝙱𝚈'𝚂 σ(≧ε≦σ) 💜

cooking wanderer's signature dish for him

wanderer x gn!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

word count: 988

a/n: short one today! not feeling too good about this but just wanted to push something out and this was buzzing around in my head so i figured i'd write it out real quick. btw i'm doing requests now! check pinned for more details (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*。

he’s absolutely unconvinced you can make anything without ruining it. 

a few mishaps in the kitchen was all it took for him to take over the stove and only let you help with preparation when you won’t stop pestering him about it. 

doesn’t even hesitate to grab things out of your hands and move them across the counter when you try helping. will also step in front of you to push you away from the counter which drives you crazy. 

he actually genuinely enjoys cooking for you, but equally enjoys pretending it’s because you’re a safety hazard and watching you get angry about it. nothing beats lighthearted bickering with you. 

given your dislike for cooking in the first place it all works out for the most part, but after seeing him make a simple meal from leftover rice and tea one night, you wanted to try finding quick and easy foods to throw together. 

this specific dish of his had been on your mind ever since he first made it for you, yes because it was delightful, but also because it was clearly one of his favorites and you couldn’t help but want to try your hand at it for him. 

fortunately, once a week, he and nahida meet up to discuss things so it’s not long before the perfect opportunity presents itself. 

“do you need something?”

you shake your head no from where you’re peering over his shoulder with rapt attention, watching the way he skillfully puts together some sort of inazuman dish you haven’t seen before. the wanderer’s hands move across the cutting board like they’ve done it a million times, which they probably have, and it’s near fascinating to watch. 

“just looking.” you respond absentmindedly. your breath tickles the back of his neck, and for a split second he almost fumbles with the knife and heaves a deep sigh like you’re being a nuisance, but at the same time steps to the side so you have more room to see him neatly chop up some herbs that seem to be one of the final touches. when he’s done, he scoops the small pieces into his hand before sprinkling them over the rice and tea filled bowl sitting off to the side of the counter and topping it off with a pickled plum. 

“there.” he boasts proudly, presenting the bowl with a grin. “shimi chazuke.”

“it looks good.” you say honestly, bringing the dish to your mouth and taking a sip, and then, “it tastes good!”

your eyes are bright and earnest when you meet his and he clicks his tongue to distract himself from the way your words make his chest flutter. “don’t act so surprised, of course it does.”

as always, you immediately play along with his attitude and set your lips in a grim line. “i lied, it’s awful. never make this again.” 

when you set the bowl down and start to walk away he sputters and starts briskly walking after you, grumbling lighthearted curses and calling you a terrible liar along the way. 

ever since that day, he’s made that same shimi chazuke a handful of other times and the urge to try to make it yourself and surprise him has been strong. now, with nothing but determination on your mind, you’re ready to put your observation skills to work and perfectly replicate his cooking before he comes back from his weekly meeting with nahida. 

as carefully and precisely as you can, you go through the same preparation process you’ve seen so many times and slowly but surely a deliciously smelling bowl of shimi chazuke is nearly done. 

it’s right when you’re adding the toppings that he returns and soundlessly walks inside and stops behind you with a frown. you know he’s there but wait until you’ve finished sprinkling the herbs on top before glancing over your shoulder to see him standing with his arms crossed watching you. 

“you made a huge mess.” he comments in a bland tone, eyeing the dirty dishes and spilled tea on the counter. 

“welcome back.” you completely ignore what he said and hand him the bowl, which he takes cautiously and holds out in front of him like it might explode. despite this, there’s a softness to his expression at coming home to find you making one of his favorite foods, so he wastes no time in lifting it up and thoughtfully taking a sip. 

you stand in front of him nearly vibrating with anticipation, and like the insufferable punk he is, keeps his words to himself while he also grabs a pair of chopsticks to take a bite of the rice and check the texture. you stare intently at the way his jaw flexes as he chews, and when you cross your arms in front of yourself with an impatient huff he finally turns to look at you. 

“not bad. looks like you can be good at things after all.” 

contrary to what he says, the gentle hand that comes to rest on top of your head and the appreciative smile on his face have butterflies erupting in your stomach and a matching grin to accompany his own breaks out across your cheeks. 

“clearly you should let me help out in the kitchen more often then.” you muse smugly, to which he retracts his hand like you burned it and turns away with a scoff. 

“in your dreams.” 

“fine, then i guess you wouldn’t mind if i finish this for you?” before you can even bring the bowl from the table to your lips he reaches over and carefully snatches it from you so none of it spills over. 

“that won’t be necessary,” he says sharply, pouting slightly as you softly laugh. you both share a knowing look as he holds the steaming bowl to his chest, one that brings soft color to his cheeks in a way only you can manage. 

“and… thank you.”