Teasing With Kazuha Was A Big Game To You. Who Gets Flustered The Most, Who Shys Away First, Wo Touches

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.”

blue lock boys : things they do in a relationship ( part one )

♡ : reo mikage, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, isagi yoichi

REO MIKAGE knows the sidewalk rule, albeit he does it unconsciously it's adorable and fluttering all the same. every time the both of you go out for a walk and nearing a street, he'd hold you by the waist before steering you on the opposite side of the road before letting his arm stay over your shoulders. the look of astonishment you would shoot him is not missed by reo’s eyes, instead this will prompt him to give you a cheeky smile before pulling you even closer by your shoulders.

“are you good?” he would ask, planting a kiss on your temple.

you smile in return, nodding your head yes before leaning your head on the plane of his broad shoulders. “never better.”

there is just something comforting every time ITOSHI RIN would wrap a blanket around your figure. maybe it's because of the soft look in his eyes that's only ever present and reserved for you, or the way his enclosed arms would linger a little longer around you. often times he would also lay his head on your shoulders, kissing the soft skin of your neck as you wrap an arm around his waist and the other one being laid down on his head.

“what’s wrong rin?” you ask him, caressing his hair as you feel him softly exhale a breath on the curve of your neck.

“nothing,” he raise his head to look at you and you are once again taken back by the soft look that's being projected in his teal eyes. “’m just happy... very happy.”

NAGI SEISHIRO loves his sleep, it's a fact that's well-known by everyone. especially by you because sometimes, instead of going out for dates at a free day, the both of you would rather spend it in the warm confines of your shared room to sleep or cuddle. you don't have anything against it, not especially because of how comfortable it is cuddling and sleeping with sei even with his large frame that easily dwarfed you.

“you’re so warm ’n comfortable,” nagi mutters, burying his face in your chest.

you rub his back, invoking a hum of contentment to leave his mouth. “’m so lucky to have you...”

heat would creep in your neck at everything that ISAGI YOICHI does. it would be through something as simple as a glance, a smile or even a tiny bit of his attention being spared on you that can make you feel the rush of blood in your veins, but there is just something different in the way that he acts almost automatically as a way of protecting you.

there is a palm covering the edge of the table as you rose from kneeling on the floor, the fallen fork in between your fingers but the owner of the hand is still occupied with answering the on-going phonecall from his management.

“yeah... i’ll be right there in two hours.” he only finally retrieves his hand when you're finally seated beside him, all the while still focused on the transpiring conversation.

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

🧁_MESSY MOODBOARD ❕

rainbow 🌈

⌗ like or reblog if you save ༊*·˚

imagine this: you're itoshi rin's best friend and you have been since grade school, somehow enduring the period of his life when he pushed everyone away after his and sae's fallout.

you were the only one that didn't budge at his sudden coldness, stubborn and unrelenting against his metal walls that eventually melded to encompass you too. you're the only one he actively wonders about during his time at blue lock as well, thinking about whether you were okay or not during the time that he could spare.

you show up to the blue lock u20 match, sat in the spot reserved for family as you cheer for him until your throat hurts, shouting your heart out whenever rin holds the ball.

you ask him if he could hear you cheering for him after the match, he wraps you up in his jersey and nods. despite how hellish his night has been, it's been made a little better by seeing you.

for the two weeks he has off blue lock, rin intends to spend it all with you. the problem was, the second day that you're out and about, you just so happen to bump in to the rest of the blue lock players.

immediately, rin wants to drag you away, not wanting to dampen his holiday with these idiots, but bachira being bachira, invites you to hangout with them during the day. everybody can see how miserable their precious, star player is, grumbling and complaining under his breath whilst you try to at least comfort him. you're grabbing him by his arm to pull him towards something fascinating, you let him take the first sip or bite of whatever food you bought, and you always allow him to take the vacant spot beside you.

it's chigiri who truly is ballsy enough to ask why rin lingered with you rather than just going home if he was going to be so miserable.

his response is: 'wherever y/n strays, i follow'.

ᄒ ˳ ׄ 🫐 ׄ ࣭  𖧚̫ HELLO? MY BOYFRIEND IS SO PRETTY! 🫂 scara nation, wake up! ﹗ ˳ ֹ ✩

꒰⁺˖͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏Rui Kamishiro ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏˖⁺꒱

#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”. 

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