BOYFRI3ND MAT3RIAL !

reminiscence.

fem! reader, scara and nahida would act like siblings change my mind, includes sumeru archon quest spoilers!

“would you mind telling me more about [name]?”

scaramouche had to make sure he was hearing things correctly.

“excuse me?”

“[name]. i want to know more about her.”

the tiny god of wisdom gently rocks back and forth on her makeshift swing created by her control over dendro—watching over the city of sumeru with soft eyes whilst the former harbinger stares daggers onto her back of her head.

a sigh escapes the man's lips from behind her, a telltale sign of his incoming exasperation, “you read my mind without my permission again? i remember clearly telling you to cut it out, didn't i?” his annoyance doesn't come unnoticed by the observant child.

“it was quite improper of me to do so, but i'm the god of wisdom. i actively seek out knowledge, and such—i couldn't resist the temptation of peering onto a mind as eccentric as yours.” her tone remains understanding of his irritation, yet all the more wise in explaining her unwarranted prying.

the dark-haired male behind her hums, leaning back onto the tree as he shuts his eyes closed, seemingly given up on voicing his displeasure towards the archon.

“tell me what you know so i'll know where to start.”

his immediate compliance makes the curious child turn her head his way, staring at him with wide eyes.

“you...” nahida trails off as she smiles in relief, quickly reminding herself to not comment on his chosen act of opening up as he might get impatient and dismiss the subject altogether.

the distant chatter of her people down at the city successfully averts her attention from him, her eyes now gazing down at a certain blonde traveller stopping by to buy some supplies for their next adventure.

“you were dreaming of her during your slumber. she's...the fourth betrayal you encountered, correct?” nahida knows that you were anything but a betrayal, but she has to bend her words to his whims for now as to avoid a temper tantrum.

scaramouche hums in response.

“out of all the companions you've trusted, you seemed to cling onto your memories of her the most. why is that?”

“if you've read my mind, then i'm sure you already know why.”

“you're not gonna deny it?” the lesser lord cranes her neck to look at him over her shoulder, brows raised questioningly at his statement. “that you were in love, romantically?” she had carefully formed the question to give him the freedom of denying it just in case he wasn't ready to face his past just yet, but this situation was clearly something she didn't expect.

the male remains resting against the tree behind him, uncaring of the child's rather surprised gaze as his eyes stay shut. “if there's one thing you taught me while being under your care, it has to be acceptance.” he feels his anemo vision thrum to life by his chest, but he pays no mind to it as he continues, “i have nothing to lose now, so I might as well stop lying to myself to give my existence some type of meaning.”

nahida can't help the softening of her eyes towards the male, her smile widening by a fraction before she returns her gaze towards the city below her. if anything, that's probably his way of thanking her. it's a pretty roundabout way considering the better alternatives, but it managed to get the message across, didn't it?

she sighs in content, “that's essentially all I know about her. once again, would you mind telling me how she was like?”

you would probably pass out if you found out that the god of wisdom wishes to know more about you.

the ends of his lips twitch upwards for a moment as he thinks back on the memories he held dearly of you;

ranging from the embarrassing and funny moments you two shared like that one time you accidentally mistook him as a girl due to how graceful and fair his skin and face was, or up to the more intimate moments—like watching the narukami festival unfold along with its blooming fireworks from the mountain peaks of tatarasuna...

...and that one time he finally let your desires free and bared himself for you to touch—his first time.

he feels his cheeks burn at the thought, crossing his arms with a huff as if to breathe out the sinful thoughts.

now that he was free from the shackles of burdens and hatred, everything he experienced with you no longer seemed to be as bitter and disgusting to recall—unlike the times before where he'd have occasional dreams of you back in the fatui, the pettiness in his nerves as he calls it a nightmare that reminds him of how naïve and weak he was back then.

he returns to the matter at hand with a new sense of clarity—now what was he supposed to say again?

right. he was supposed to tell nahida about you.

he can't believe he's still blushing over you after all these centuries.

lifting his eyelids, the first thing he catches in his eyesight was nahida's knowing smile—directed right at him as she stays still on her swing.

why is she—?

oh.

making haste with his movements, he quickly lifts his hand to pull down his hat over his face, only to discover he wasn't wearing his hat at the moment—so pathetically enough, he opts to cover his face with a hand, shyly hiding his face from the grinning archon as he looks away with reddened cheeks and ears.

he got too carried away while reminiscing, it seems.

“i see...so you're still very much in love with her, hm?” nahida speaks up with a teasing tilt to her voice, relishing in this rare moment of the male's lowered guard, “not like i blame you. she was really pretty in your dreams, and probably even prettier in person.”

“shut up. do you want me to continue or not?”

with a quick apology amidst her fit of giggles, she nods, looking away once again from the eccentric wanderer to give him the privacy he deserves.

“sorry, sorry. now you may start.”

her curiousity is piqued. just how much of an impact did you make to cause the male to make such interesting reactions?

she's about to find out now, it seems.

might make part two idk

hellooo!! could i request like a scara x gn reader, but reader is sick and scaramouche is taking care of them? Like scara is mean at first but when he realise how sick reader is he warms up and becomes very nice with a bit of fluff c: tysm!

this was so cute how scara goes from being so mean to sweet ik he actually cares abt ppl but loves to hide it,, i took a little bit of a diff approach with this bc i tried so many ideas before that didn't work so instead of the reader just being sick they're kinda freezing too lol but i hope u like it in the end, thank u sm for requesting this! if this wasn't to your liking you can always request again!

what happens...

synopsis: you and your boss scara get trapped in a snow storm and he helps you while you're really cold and sick

warnings: scara is degrading, you almost get hypothermia

characters: scaramouche (the balladeer) x reader

notes: i rewrote this like five times. dont talk to me.

•┈୨♡୧┈•

harsh winds singing a desperate chorus as it whirled around you, it claimed all the land in white. bounding everyone to their homes, unlucky for you, you were caught out in the storm. in other circumstances, this sight would have been beautiful to you as all of snezhnaya was, if only you weren't walking in the middle of it. you'd say you were happy when a small wooden hut appeared, it didn't look warm from the outside but it was shelter, except you had to go in with your boss.

scaramouche slammed the wooden door to the hut, blocking most of the blundering storm outside. the cabin was rotten down, boards coroading away, who ever lived here hadn't been around in probabaly years. it was stopping most of the wind, but the freezing tempature was still seeping in. he grimmaced at the situation, he'd been seperated from the rest of the fatui agents while out carrying a mission for the tsaritsa, simply on their way to catch debt from clients. this was only a minor setback, but a damn awful one. who knows how long he'd be stuck here. especially stuck with you.

you were in a corner of the house, curled into yourself to retain warmth. your thick black coat was keeping some sort of coziness but you were only human and some cloth could only do so much. damn your immune system, you'd only been curled up in here for a couple of minutes and were already sneezing uncontrollably, nose tingling and your skin in a bitter pain because of the frost. "look at you cowering away." your boss crossed his arms, glaring down at you. "we're stuck in this snow storm because of you giving us the wrong direactions. who even allowed you to join the fatui? you're obviously unfit to serve the tsarista." you who fed at his frigid words. "i bet it was that bobbleheaded childe, huh? pathetic." you knew never to show weakness infront of him, the balladeer was known to be so cruel to those who showed fear. yet in this snow storm, you couldn't care to even respond to him or say sorry about your incompetence. you swore if you stayed like this, you'd freeze over into a popsicle.

"…i'm so damn cold." you mumbled. scara pondered you with a scouring look. "oh, you're cold? well you're in snezhnaya its going to be a little chilly" his stupid sarcasm was not what you needed. you hands sting through your gloves, throat itchy and eyes watering. you tried to fight back the tears, you could not cry in front of him no matter how sick and cold you were. his eyes widened watching you shudder in the corner. he shuffled around a bit, looking to you and fro, cheeks a little flush. he hadn't expect you to seriously cry. he sighed, watching his breath swirl the air then trugded over to you.

with his hand nearing your face, you flinched at it thinking he was going to reprimand you for being so weak. yet he simply was pressing the back of his hand to your forehead, you were icy to the touch, eyes puffy and red. a tear rolled down your cheek as you sniffled, he took his thumb and wiped it away with a pout on his lip. "don't cry..." he mumbled. you weren't really sad just your body reacting to the uncomfortable reality you were in. "let me see your hand…" you lifted you arm to him and he pulled one of your gloves off, revealing your discolored fingers, a sign of hyperthermia.

the balladeer was no mother goose, he had no nurturing bone in his body. if he wanted to, he'd leave you here to freeze and would carry out the rest of his mission without batting an eye. instead, he gloved your hand again and held them between his. it wouldn't do him any good to let you die, he supposed. he couldn't warm you up much himself considering his...condition, he knew you were going to catch an even worse cold if he didn't do anything. so, he did the unthinkable. he sat against the wall, pulling you towards him by the waist, you were between his legs, and he curled you into his chest. it wasn't a lot of warmth, but it was enough. it was reassuring that you would be okay, you're allergies were getting to you but atleast you weren't alone in this storm.

in other circumstances, being coddled in your boss' arms would make you vomit at the thought but he was suprsingly cozy. "…tell anyone about this and i'll let you freeze in the lake." scaramouche pulled you tighter to his chest trying to get you warmer. "i'm only doing this because if you die i wont hear the end of it." "…of course, balladeer." you held back a little giggle. "i wouldn't dream of it"

maybe the balladeer was more than he seemed. maybe he cared underneath his empty heartless shell. don't tell anyone though, what happens at the hut, stays at the hut.

•┈୨♡୧┈•

dw when you guys got somewhere safe he made you tea as long as u didn't tell anyone what happened at the hut (esp childe)

between you, me, and these bookshelves

synopsis: just the little things that happen in a little bookstore.

— featuring: albedo, ayato, childe, scaramouche x gn!reader (separate)

— cw: modern au, swearing, yn is an avid reader, use of childe's real name, none of the books i mention here are real lol

— author's notes: first headcanon post with multiple characters~ very self indulgent so hope you guys enjoy <3

Working at a bookstore isn't the most glamorous job in the world.

The pay is good for the amount of work you need to do, and most days nothing much happens.

But sometimes, there are just some events that happen between the bookstore's mahogany shelves that make your days just a bit more colorful.

Albedo

The bookstore has a chalkboard stand outside that details new releases, promotions, or events that the store has. Displayed on it are elaborate illustrations or hand-lettering, all of it done by the same person.

And he comes by every other weekend to re-do its contents.

You sometimes watch him as he draws, his nimble hands becoming dusted with colored chalk as he sketches on the blackboard, his light blond hair tied back as he furrows his brow, deep in concentration.

He’s caught you staring a handful of times, to which you turn away in hopes that he doesn’t bring it up. Thankfully he never does.

This week you watch as he colors in his artwork, a dragon and a young man with wings at the center soaring over rolling plains and sharp cliffs.

As the boy gets started with the lettering, you ask him a question.

“Do you really just come up with all this on the spot?”

The boy looks at you with curiosity in his eyes, “So you do talk. And here I was wondering if you just didn’t like talking to me.”

“Well, I don’t exactly know what we can really talk about. You’re a freelancer right?”

He smiles as he returns his attention back to his illustration, “You can say that. Well to answer your first question, I usually have a final outcome in mind before I start sketching. Your boss sends me a gist of what he wants and I draw it. Simple as that.”

You converse with him until he finishes, sprinkling in some questions about his work in between. As he packs up to leave, you ask him one last question.

“I never got your name, chalk boy.”

A silent question, but one that he still understands.

“It’s Albedo.”

The two of you end up striking up an easy conversation every time he visits, with you always watching him draw

If you express interest in his other works, he’ll let you browse his sketchbook 

One day while flipping through his drawings, you begin to see some familiar sights: a vending machine outside a nearby convenience store, a food stall, and the outside of the bookstore. Some pages have small doodles in pencil and ink, and some in color. Others have full illustrations.

The next page that you flip to, though, nearly takes your breath away. 

You find a colorful illustration of the bookstore, a blend of paint and ink. Sunlight streams through the glass walls and envelops the scene in a warm light. Boxes lay strewn on the floor, all of them brimming with books. And among the boxes stands you, a stack of books in hand as a small smile graces your face.

You look up when Albedo spots the page you’re on, “Ah, I hope you don’t mind that I sketched you a handful of times. I tend to draw what I find interesting.

“So is it alright if… I sketched you more often?”

Scaramouche

Scaramouche pisses you off most days.

He distracts you while you try to do your work, he steals the pen by the cash register whenever you need to use it, and worst of all, he always makes fun of whatever book you read.

No matter what genre it is, mystery, fantasy, or heaven forbid, romance, he'll always find something to tease you about.

But it’s odd. For someone who claims to hate every novel that you've taken interest in, you find yourself discussing with him each and every book you’ve read.

“Sure, Forest of Lies had a strong opening,” he starts, leaning back on his chair, “But did the princess seriously need to go through those arbitrary trials just to prove that she was determined to save her kingdom?”

“Fine, I thought it was stupid too,” you say, “But you have to admit, the characters are actually well-written and have interesting subplots. The knight having a backstory connected to the princess’ was a good twist.”

“But does anything really come from that twist? Or was it just there for shock value? When you get to the part where–”

You let out an exaggerated gasp, “Spoilers! I just got past the twist, asshole.”

“You should read faster then!” he says, going into the storage room to fetch some supplies, “Whatever, we’ll continue this when you finish the damn book.”

You’re about to continue reading when Scaramouche pops his head out and adds, “The next two novels in the series go downhill in quality from there. Trust me.”

“But this is a trilogy??”

“That’s the point!”

You realize that he had a point when you finally got to the second book.

Around halfway through reading the book, you catch him reading over your shoulder. You turn to look at him and he simply gives you a smug smile. You simply rolled your eyes and continued reading.

A couple of days go by after you finish the second book when he approaches you.

“What’s the occasion?” you say as Scaramouche hands you a book, a pen, a highlighter, and some book tabs.

It’s a novel on your wishlist, you notice; one that you had mentioned to him in passing. Small colored tabs stick out from the side of the book. Thumbing through the first few pages, you see that he underlined some passages, his neat writing occupying the margins, the blue highlighter bringing your attention to a handful of quotes. Just from reading the first sentence as well as Scaramouche’s comments, you could tell that you were going to enjoy reading this.

But you recall a casual remark he during one of your past conversations — he doesn’t typically annotate his books. Did he do this for you?

“Nothing. Just thought you should read a good book for once,” he answers, not quite looking at you.

“Excuse you, I read good books sometimes.”

“The last book you read, you kept ranting about how the writing wouldn’t just ‘let the characters fucking talk’. Your words, not mine.”

“And the last book you read, you literally couldn’t finish because you kept getting fed up with the protagonist doing nothing.”

He groans, “Are you gonna accept my gift or not?”

You give him an unimpressed look, setting the book and stationery aside, “This novel better be as good as you say it is.”

He was right. The book was actually good. You even ended up adding your own annotations alongside his — like having your own conversation amidst the pages of the book.

His comments, whether they be snarky, insightful, or analytical, definitely enhanced the experience. And thanks to that, you end up finishing the book in just two days.

Another one of your story discussions happens and, amidst the bickering, a book he mentions piques your interest.

After making fun of the ever-growing list of books he wants to read, to which he retorts by saying you’re not better off, an idea pops into your head and you search for the novel he’s looking for.

It’s in a genre you wouldn’t typically go reaching for, but this is the least you could do for him, right?

You spend the next week reading and annotating the book, using the highlighter and tabs Scaramouche had given you to highlight passages and give your comments.

The shocked look on his face when you gave him the copy of the book was definitely worth it.

“Just thought you should read a good book for once,” you say, sliding the book toward him.

“Huh. Don’t you hate this genre?”

“Surprisingly enough I actually liked the story; you have decent recommendations when you’re not being such a dick. So, are you gonna accept my gift or not?”

He rolls his eyes, snatching the book from the table, and mumbling a quiet ‘thanks’. 

You pretend not to see the blush that reaches his ears.

Ayato

It starts off as most days do, with a delivery of new books.

You open the box to find the newest releases as well as some bestsellers. One of the covers catches your eye, the title Child of the Roses emblazoned in front of an illustration of two women laying in a field of red roses — one of the books you’ve always wanted to get your hands on ever since the author announced the plot.

Sure you could purchase the book right now, but your budget for the month didn’t have a lot of wiggle room. And if you did wait until next month, you couldn’t exactly guarantee the availability of the book since it always manages to sell fast.

While you’re restocking the shelves, the door to the store opens, and in come a man and woman with pale blue hair. 

The girl starts looking around while the man walks up to you.

“Does your store happen to sell the book Traingazing?” the man asks. There’s an elegance in the way he carries himself — well-dressed, handsome, and dignified in the way he speaks, “It’s alright if you don’t.” 

You confirm its availability and lead him to the nearby shelves, “You lucked out today, sir. This is our last copy.”

He laughs. Fuck, even his laugh sounds expensive, “Lucky indeed. My sister and I have gone to five stores today just looking for it.”

The girl, his sister, you presume, comes up to you two with a small stack of books in hand, “Did you find it?”

The man holds up the book, its silver-edged pages gleaming in the fluorescent lights of the store, “Got their last copy, too.”

She sighs in relief, “Good. You can finally stop nagging me about you never being able to grab a copy before they sell out.”

“Says the one who dragged me to eight stores looking for a book you ended up hating.”

The siblings leave shortly after purchasing their books. 

The rest of the day passes by as normal. Rush hour usually comes around early afternoon to late evening, when students get out of school and people usually get off work. 

Unfortunately, your shift just about lines up with the store’s more chaotic hours.

You spot a familiar blue-haired man again later that evening while you’re in the middle of helping another customer. He’s browsing the shelves when he spots you.

“Can you help me with something? I’m looking for a gift for my sister.”

“Oh, the girl you were with this afternoon, right? What kind of books does she like?”

He describes the types of books she favors along with a handful of her favorite authors. You lead him to some nearby shelves, picking out some books and giving him a brief synopsis of each one. He listens intently to each of your suggestions, his lilac eyes focused on you.

As you’re finishing up, he spots a book behind you and grabs it from the shelf. You spot the familiar title, Child of the Roses. As usual, whenever you restock it, it’s the last one in stock. “You thinking of buying that one? It’s our last copy.”

The man reads the synopsis as you summarize the plot, “Seems like quite the interesting book if it got you so excited.”

You laugh at his remark, “Well, I’ve been wanting to read that book for a while now, but I never manage to get a copy before they sell out.”

He considers the book before saying, “Is that so?”

Your co-worker calls for you before you can respond, saying that they need help with manning the cash register.

After almost an hour of helping with scanning barcodes and packing books, the blue-haired man stands in front of the counter.

He holds up Child of the Roses, “If it’s alright, I’d like to make this a separate purchase.”

Figures he’d buy the book if the reviews and your excited ramblings are anything to go off of. While you were sad that the chance to purchase the novel had once again slipped away, at least you could be reassured that it would be in good hands.

After giving him the book and the receipt, he simply hands them both back to you, “You were quite passionate when you described the book to me. I thought I should buy it for you before someone else gets it.”

This has to be a dream, “Are you sure you want to give this to me? I mean don’t get me wrong! I’m grateful, but don’t you want to read this, too?”

A smile graces his face, “Of course. You helped me find what I was looking for this afternoon, so this is the least I can do for you.”

When you finally get home and settle down for the evening, you open the book, intending to get through just one chapter.

That’s when you find a calling card in between the pages of the index and the first chapter, the name Kamisato Ayato in immaculate handwriting on one side along with his number.

On the back was a message: I’m actually currently reading Child of the Roses, so I have no need for another copy. But if you’d like, we could go out sometime and read it together. What do you say?

Childe

Most days there's not really much to do aside from the usual talking to customers, restocking the shelves, and helping close up shop. 

So sometimes you read just to pass the time. 

You’re just finishing up a chapter when the door to the store opens.

Ajax, you learn his name, is a massive flirt. Instead of talking to you like a normal person, he instantly says the cheesiest pickup line you’ve ever heard.

“I don’t need glasses,” he says, leaning on the counter, “ ‘cause I can clearly see that we were meant to be.”

It’s way too early for this shit, “... sir are you going to buy a book or not?”

He tips his head back and laughs, “C’mon! You have to admit that one was good.”

And he’s come by the store every so often ever since.

He’s quite the chatterbox too, talking about anything he can think of whenever you scan his items at the counter.

You learn he’s an older brother when he asks you for book recommendations for his younger siblings. His attentiveness to his siblings’ taste in literature never fails to put a smile on your face.

You also learn that he’s very knowledgeable in literature.

He comments on one of the books you’re reading during one of his visits, talking about his favorite scenes as well as discussing the characters with you.

A week of nearly daily visits turns into a month, with you getting used to his corny pick-up lines and little conversations.

But then it suddenly stops. A week passes without Ajax’s visits.

You don’t think too much of it until that one week turned into three. 

He was under no obligation to come back every day, of course. He was a customer, at the end of the day, and there was never any guarantee that he wouldn’t suddenly stop visiting the bookstore nearly every day.

But you couldn’t help feeling dejected at the thought of just never seeing him again.

Then, on one unassuming Monday afternoon, a familiar face returns to the store.

“Hope you didn’t miss me too much,” Ajax winks at you, “Mind if you help me look for a book?”

You smile, doing your best to hide your surprise, “Good to see you’re still doing well.”

He gives a vague description of what he’s looking for: a sci-fi series that’s appropriate for his little brother Teucer, the third book to a series his sister Tonia is currently reading, and “whatever you think is good” for him.

Walking over to the shelves, you could feel his eyes on you as you started picking out the books for his siblings. A soft smile is on his face when you turn to face him, becoming wider when your eyes meet his.

“You were gone for a while,” you say, unsure of how to continue. His life is none of your business and like hell were you going to admit that you missed him.

He sighs, “Yeah. Work has been a lot these past few weeks, but now that it’s loosened up I can finally start seeing my favorite person more often.”

“Your favorite person huh?”

“Getting the chance to talk to you is the highlight of my visits. Of course you’d be my favorite person.”

He leans in close to you, “Y’know, I just realized that I’ve lost my number. So can I have yours?”

You roll your eyes, still smiling, “You could have just asked for my number like a normal person.”

Ajax laughs, and you find yourself wishing you could listen to it every day.

hi !!

can i request f! reader x tighnari where reader was always bullied and hid her ears, then she met tighnari and she stops hiding it ??

btw can i be 🤑 anon

hi !!

yes, you can:) I also gave her a tail, I hope you don't mind!

There was a time when you loved your ears. They sat so pretty on top of your head, the same shade as your hair. At night, it was a comfort to rub an ear. The motion had you falling asleep quickly. Joining the Akademiya was the turning point.

The stares you were able to handle, it's actually what you expected to happen. A few brave people asked if they could touch your ears or tail only to be politely rejected. Some even asked for pictures!

It was all easy enough to handle.

Until it wasn't.

Tugging on your ears became a fun little game when people would walk past you. Laughing at your painful whines and protests. The harsh actions leave you rubbing your poor ears afterwards. The loud sounds made them hurt enough by the end of the day, constant tugging didn't help.

Then it was the loudness. Clapping their hands next to your ears. Sometimes they'd lean in and shout.

It got to the point that your head would be pounding. Their actions leave you crying in your bed from your sore and throbbing ears. You couldn't handle it anymore.

From then on, you always wore a hat. It covered your ears that stayed turned down against your head You'd think that'll stop them from bothering you. All it did was turn their attention towards your visible and very vulnerable tail.

You ended up having to hide that, too.

Eventually, their actions stopped and you left the akidemiya to continue your studies elsewhere. Sumeru City was always too loud for you to handle anyway. But the fear of revealing your ears and tail remained.

Gandharva Ville is the place that is home to the Forest Watchers. Deep in the Avidiya forest and away from the bustling city of Sumeru. Sounded like a great place to stay to you.

It's where you meet Tighnari.

One could imagine your surprise at the sight of two fluffy ears standing on top of his head, just as dark as his hair. A tail moved gently behind him, a mixture of black and green - also like his hair. It looks so soft and well taken care of.

Her own tail twitched from under her shirt, longing for the same type of freedom. It's obvious the people here weren't the same as the ones you've dealt with most of your life - but that couldn't stop the fear you held.

Tighnari took notice of the ear tips sticking out from the bottom of your hat. How you looked away whenever you saw that someone noticed them. Shielding yourself from something that will never happen.

He knew outright asking you would lead to you either panicking or getting defensive. So he had to go about things slowly. He kept you near him, wanting to show that everyone here would do nothing to harm you.

"Here, why don't you try this?" Tighnari held out a small container to you. He saw you running your fingers through your tail, frowning at the feel of it. "This will help keep it soft and hydrated in this kind of climate. I have another one you can use if you ever go to the desert as well."

With little hesitance, you take the item. "Thank you," Truly, you were thankful. Your tail wasn't used to the humidity here in the forest so the fur was a lot dryer than normal.

Oh, but then...

"Does it work on ears, too?"

Tighnari's lips tug upwards, happy you were starting to trust him to talk about your ears and tail now. The next step is getting you comfortable enough to let them breathe. He was certain your ears were sore by the end of the day being cupped up under a hat.

"Could you help me with this?" you asked one day, holding the container in hand. Your tail unwound from your waist. Ears were still hidden but it's a start.

He spoke softly. "Of course."

You sat on the bed, tail laying in his lap once he was comfortable next to you. TIghnari is gentle as he runs his hands through the fur on your tail. It was a lot softer now and looked healthier from the time you first arrived. You've taken good care of your tail and ears on your own so far, this was just an excuse to get closer to Tighnari.

Heat rush to your cheeks. While he was occupied with your tail, you reach up and remove the hat you wore. Your ears slowly shoot up, twitching a little from being contained for so long.

"Did you want me to do your ears, as well?" He asked in a near whisper.

You nod. Eyes closed at the swirl of emotions when he tended to your ears. This is the first time you have them out freely, let alone allow another to touch them in this way.

When Tighnari was done, you felt relieved. Like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. Feeling brave at the moment, you lean forward, placing a kiss on Tighnari's cheek. Completely missing the blush that rose to his face.

You went out the next day, ears and tail on show. And every day since.

Okay fuck it if this post reaches 666k notes by the end of 2023 I'll practise basic self care

Why 666k? Because it's funny and impossible so good fucking luck

#BFE2FD ┈ scaramouche (wanderer) x gn!reader ; genre/trope: an angsty christmas special! ; wc 3000+ ; warnings: just an unrequited love fic... mentions of happy people idk

[6:44pm] gingerbread lingers in the air, despite the fact that you had shoved your pathetic attempt of a house in the bin a while ago.

still, the scent remains amidst the twinkle of christmas ornaments and the rustle of golden tinsel.  like a mockery of fate, it hangs around from early night when you had given up waiting, to the current midnight when the flicker of christmas lights along the neighbourhood was beginning to fade.

it seemed that this christmas, you would have to spend it alone.

of course, it hadn't always been like that. your friends from distant regions had all tried their hand to invite you to various parties. most offers had been simple pleasantries since there was only a handful of those who didn’t know you reserved this special night for an equally special someone, and the others you had to let down gently.

"i'm so sorry!" you had replied. "i already have plans for the night."

some of your friends, like zhongli, had hummed thoughtfully. "i see. it is always nice to spend this festive season with your loved ones. it is a shame i couldn't spend it with you, however."

"there's always next year." you found yourself apologising again, though in your heart you knew the situation would only repeat. "and i'll see you at the new years party." 

“new years, hm? then i suppose i will have to settle for seeing you then. have a wonderful christmas, name.”

hu tao beams from his right. "we'll be seeing you there! have fun with your special someone!"

others, had been a little less understanding, their whines and protests dragging on into the day.

"can't we see each other even for a second? please, please?"

"klee, name has already told you they'll be busy." albedo had interjected, appearing at her side, attention only partially directed at the conversation. 

the child pouts, fists balled at her side. "that isn't fair! i wanted us to sing jingle bells, all three of us! and to decorate the christmas tree, and to see all the christmas lights! then, we were meant to stay up to meet santa and leave gifts for him!"

"i'll still be there." albedo points out.

"it's not the same."

you laugh. "i'm sorry klee, i'll make it up to you next time."

"you said that last time. you were meant to make it up to me today." klee sniffles. "are you a liar, name?"

"alright, klee, that's too far." albedo frowns. "you have to say sorry."

"it's okay! besides, i'm the one in the wrong." you crouch down to talk face-to-face, gently wiping away the stray tears fallen on her cheek. "how about we go fish blasting on new years, hm? we can go to every pond and lake in teyvat, we'll do it for however long you like."

"really? what about santa?"

“your big brother albedo will invite him!” pointedly ignoring albedo’s gaze, you keep selling your point. “we’ll have so much fun, you’ll see.”

albeit still a little upset, klee snorts up the last of her outburst and nods. 

“i pinky promise this time." you wrap your pinky around hers and gave it a tight squeeze.

"you pinky promised this time. don't break it okay?" she repeats in a small voice.

you nod, standing back up. turning to albedo, you also give him a soft smile. "sorry i can't make it either, to your christmas party."

"it was sucrose's idea, i think that apology should be for her."

"still, i would have wanted to spend christmas with you."

"why can't you?" his eyes startle you in all its clarity as he turns, question capturing you on the spot. his clipboard seems almost disregarded in his arms. 

"i have plans!" you blurt out. “i’m… busy.”

albedo looks at you and for a second, you’re sure he can see right through you. "a significant other?"

the chill from dragonspine is chased from your body, a prickling red flush hot in its pursuit. "no, no way, nothing like that!" after a pause, you awkwardly rush to finish the sentence. "not yet, anyway."

he smiles in return at your confession before leaning down to face klee. "come on, we shouldn't bother name anymore. they have things to do." and then to you, as klee scurries away excited at the prospect of another adventure, he wishes you luck.

“i’ll deal with the santa.” he turns, waving back slightly before ushering klee inside.

some friends already knew the man in your heart, and their invitations are gateways for jokes.

"coming to my christmas party, name?" yaemiko had suggested, before her hand flies up to her mouth. "oh wait! i forgot you have better things to do, and better people to see."

"what's this? you won't be coming?" ei perks up, eyes flickering above the book at her lap. "after all our preparations?"

yaemiko interrupts you before you can even defend yourself. "name here already has plans."

"with who?"

your face warms rapidly. "it's nothing."

"nothing? you're not coming to our party, for nothing?"

"stop it." you whine, burying your burning face in your hands. "you already know why i can't come, yaemiko."

"all the more reason why it's so very fun to poke at it."

"what? what is it? stop leaving me in the dark, you two."

"shall i do the honours?" yaemiko asks.

"ei, i made dinner plans with someone tonight. so, i can’t make it."

"oh?" the god replies. "and who is this person?"

you ignore the sly fox's chuckle, and press onwards to answer. "someone... special. someone i, someone i like."

yaemiko gasps dramatically before snickering. "blush any harder and you might come down with a fever, dearest name."

you cup your cheeks and scowl at her. "you're awful."

"and so is your love life. really, name, how long have you been pining for this man? and for this to be the first move you make is really something else."

"what she's trying to say," ei interrupts, aware of the murderous expression on your face. "is that we hope you have a good time with your special someone. though we will miss you, we hope for the best, really."

and some friends had known since the very beginning.

"eager?" tighanri asks, the very first words to leave his mouth as you enter his abode. when you don't reply, he turns to you. "it is today, right?"

"right." you groan into your hands. "should i postpone it after all? leave it to another day? what if i'm not ready after all, what if he doesn't even feel the same way as me and i look like a complete fool after everything i've done to prepare?"

"name, he would be completely stupid if he doesn't appreciate you. and you know if it doesn't end well, collei, cyno and i are joining everyone else to watch nilou perform tonight. no one will say anything if you sneak in."

you look up at him and smile. "thanks, tighnari. i don't know how but you always say the right things at the right time."

'it's called impeccable timing, i just so happen to have it. speaking of, here's the icing you wanted, for the gingerbread houses."

you inhale in the scent of sugar. "that smells really good."

"i know." turning his back to you, he begins fussing around his area. "i've been told i could make a killer wife."

"yeah?" you poke a finger in the bowl. "who said that?"

"collei."

placing your finger on your tongue, you hum in appreciation. "she's not wrong this icing is delicious. you could sell this, honestly."

"are you offering?" he turns around with a smirk.

"i can pay with friendship?"

he laughs, shaking his head. "i don't need that."

you stick a different finger in the bowl and eat that too, closing your eyes at the taste.

"do that again and the bowl will be empty before it's night."

"i'm not eating that much."

"here."

your eyes widen, bowl completely forgotten as you look at the wrapped present in tighnari's hand, adorned with a bright red bow.

"this... this is..."

"my present to you." tighnari replies, a smile on his face. "merry christmas name, i hope tonight goes well."

all these holiday wishes, abundant in counting, yet there was still a hole in your heart from where a special someone had yet to say it. you find your mind blank aside from a single, daunting thought, the blanket you had hastily placed over your shoulders failing to keep the cold as the hours went on.

you replay the memory of your invitation to him over and over and over again, struggling to find any indication that he may just be late, may have just been caught in some last minute mission, that he would still be coming because he had said yes. you find that the invitation had been so causal, such a fly away suggestion, that he would have no choice but to assume it was an offering as friends, as comrades, rather than lovers. but that was alright, even if he came to your doorstep as a friend, because at least that meant he had come, because at least that meant you hadn't sat in your own home, more alone than any other day, for hours on end, waiting for the soft thud of his footsteps up to your door.

because at least that meant he hadn't stood you up.

you had definitely just been stood up.

the frosty breeze outside causes your nose and ears to tinge. you rub your arms as the cold settles in, but even the chill from the night wasn't enough to suffocate your thoughts. the crunch of snow, the whistle of the wind, the scuttering of cats as you near a little too close, all these things were not enough to erase the meaningless thoughts in your head.

it had all been so promising, the progression of your relationship, the final moment of courage that made you ask, the smile that he sent you, so full of adoration though now you can only wonder if it had all been your imagination. as the snow rains on, you wonder if you’ll forever associate the light sprinkling of white to this very moment, where the disappointment is enough to submerge you. 

well, tighnari had said you could always join him, if all went wrong.

"a christmas night alone for you, name?"

you look up, squinting at the rush of snow. a single figure stands in the distance, something about his posture so familiar to you. at last, you place a name to the face and you huff a cloud of steam into the air.

"scaramouche, no, the wanderer." you reply, his name dry on your tongue. "i wouldn't be mocking me if you were doing the same."

he shrugs, closing the distance between the two of you. you find him wearing a red scarf, and the very sight of it reminds you of someone else. "i choose to spend my christmases alone, though i don't think that would be the case for you."

"how can you be so sure?"

he smirks, the gesture so natural to him. "you've been crying." when you rush to rub at your eyes, he chuckles, loud and unapologetic. "rubbing it will only make it worse, don't you think?"

"shut up, wanderer." 

“not in the mood to talk? that hurts me, especially on a beautiful night like this.” 

you huff, letting the cold from your fingers settle into your burning eyes. “whatever. just leave me alone.”

silence, though not the type you like. you wonder why you can’t here the sound of his footsteps leaving you like you were so sure he was going to do. after all, the relationship between the two of you had never been close, simply friends of friends, sparing one another a nod in acknowledgment and maybe a few snarky remarks. 

when you look up, he’s still standing there, illuminated by streetlights. 

“why aren’t you leaving?”

“what kind of person would i be to leave a crying woman alone out on the street?”

“the same type of person you’ve always been.” you sniffle, cold.

the gesture isn’t lost on the wanderer, and with a sigh, he begins to unravel his scarf. you frown, backing away slightly. 

“what do you think you’re doing?”

without a word, the wanderer takes a step, and then another until he’s right in front of you. catching your eyes, he huffs, the steam blowing over your face, before slinging the scarf around your neck. 

at his touch, you fall silent. 

“so.” he begins. “who was the one that broke your heart?”

“it was no one.” you do a poor job at avoiding his eye. 

“i’m not a patient person, name.” 

again, you ignore him, shuffling into the scarf around your neck. though it hurt your ego to admit it, the world around you definitely felt warmer. 

with a tsk, the wanderer jabs a finger at your forehead and pushes back, forcing you to look up with a yelp. your eyes meet, and an insult raises to your tongue. “what the fuck! let go of me.”

“answer the question. who stood you up?”

you shake yourself from his touch and wiggle backwards, placing distance. “it was childe, if you have to know. jesus, wanderer, your finger is cold as shit.” 

“childe?” the wanderer repeats. “childe? you’re all sad and moopy because of childe?”

you glare at him. “shut it. i don’t need you to criticise my love life.” 

finally, a loud laugh escapes his throat. he even throws his head back, though you were almost positive your confession wasn’t even the least bit funny. that doesn’t stop him though, a hand wrapping around to clutch at his stomach, his laughs quickly becoming gasps of air. 

“yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. no really, thanks for that. it’s really helping.”

the wanderer peeks up at you through one eye, the most vibrant smile you’ve ever seen on his face still remaining. “oh you have no idea how much that made my day!”

“i think i have a rough idea.”

“you’re hilarious, name. what made you go ahead and fall for childe?”

“your heart is as cold as your fingers, wanderer. besides… i didn’t say i liked him.”

“you didn’t have to. the red on your face is enough.”

your heads cover your cheeks again, cursing your body for being so expressive. “whatever. now let me leave.” 

“hold on.” his arms stops you from walking past him, his gaze lingering at your waist before he pulls back. when he turns to face you, you don’t step back despite the proximity. it felt like a challenge, like he was daring you to back down. “you’re really spending the christmas alone? seriously?”

“it doesn’t concern you.” 

“well i’m about to make it concern me. spend the christmas with me.”

this time, it was your turn to laugh. “you’re kidding me, right? we barely know each other. and you totally laughed in my face, like, a second ago.”

“you just did the same thing to me just now.” he points out. “it cancels out.”

you hold your ground. “i am not spending the christmas with you. what, are you asking me out right now?” 

“why? getting nervous?”

“as if. you’d have to be the last person on teyvat for me to go on a date with you.” 

“that’s harsh.” his breath fans over your face as he laughs. “i would have gone on a date with you if you asked.”

“well, i’m not.” 

he hums, and something in his gaze changes, like a gear clicking into place. “but i am.” 

you hate that his words leave you flustered, blaming it on the fact that his suggestion had been absurd and abrupt and not the fact that he was looking at you the way you always hoped childe would. “wanderer, don’t joke. i’m really not feeling that right now.”

ignoring your words, his fingers creep up your arm, leaving a warm trail, dragging upwards to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “well, you’re not the worst thing i could pick up on a chirstmas night.” 

“woah, you really have a way with words, huh.” your heart beats faster, a betrayal to your mind. even as you speak, you find yourself enchanted by the way he looks at you, like he was holding you in the palm of his hand. 

“not pushing me away?” his fingers drift up your cheek, and you shiver. 

then, his hand finds purchase on the top of your head, fisting a handful of your hair and yanking it up. you yelp, hands flying to the spot of pain, words of protest already on your tongue, your mind telling you that you knew it, you knew he was up to no good, when his words cuts through the panic and freezes you.

‘look.” he says, his tone somewhere between disinterest and humour. “what’s above us, hm, name?”

you study the green above the both of you in a daze. “mistletoe.”

lighter this time, he lowers your head so he can look at you, fingers caressing your head slightly as if it will erase the pain. and it does, in a wonder that only christmas can bring, you find yourself speechless. the boy in front of you doesn’t register, though you can’t miss his degrading smile and the way his head is tilted for your response. you can’t move however, unsure if moving will break the moment, unsure on why you are so hesitant to end the situation when you really should be ending it, unsure on the warmth blossoming in your chest. 

with another hand, the wanderer swipes a finger under your lip before letting it drop to pull you closer by the waist. “not protesting anymore? i always thought the snarky part of you was your only redeeming factor.”

you open and close your mouth, then open it again. 

“i guess your stupidity has it’s own charm.” he snickers. “you’re bright red.”

“i’m bright red?” you squeak. 

“mhm.” leaning in, he finally closes the distance. 

and when your lips meet under mistletoe, it isn't the soft caress of his tongue that you notice but that he didn't quite taste like gingerbread.

merry christmas everyone! whether you celebrated yesterday, or you're celebrating today, or even if you don't celebrate at all, i hope you all have a wonderful day with friends and family !! ☆ i'm a little busy so sorry for the draft (again) !!

fall / in love

Pairing: Al-Haitham x Reader Warnings: fluff, slight angst with a happy ending Word Count: ~1.3k A/N: writer's block is hitting hard rn so here are some feelings with our fav grumpy grand scribe

“You’ve been avoiding me. Why?” The last person you want to see stands in front of you. You can feel your desk digging into you from behind as you’re cornered in the quiet walls of your office with nowhere to run. Petty excuses are futile in the presence of Al-Haitham, and his looming shadow makes you feel impossibly small.  

You cannot fall in love with him, you’ve told yourself this over and over again. They are bitter words to swallow down, stuck in the back of your throat as you force a practiced smile to hide every confession that threatens to tear through. There are certain things that cannot be said because they will tear down the walls you’ve so carefully constructed, and you know better than anyone how terrible he is at lending a hand when it comes to emotions. Al-Haitham is a man of titles: the Grand Scribe of the Akademiya, the current Acting Grand Master, a saviour to Sumeru (whether he acknowledges it or not), and a good friend. So you cannot fall in love with him because that will threaten everything you have built thus far.

And yet you free-fall, stumbling into these emotions you struggle to push away. You remind yourself to re-read the label that describes your relationship: childhood friends. Keep it that way, you say to yourself. Don’t fall in love, don’t fall for silly words and actions that have no deeper meaning. Falling in love is dangerous, and falling in love with Al-Haitham is possibly the most dangerous of all. You know this and yet you cannot bring yourself to draw the line. He pushes his way into his life without care, his body fitting the indent on your couch from sleepless nights of research and escaping from Kaveh’s hammering in the middle of the night.

Don’t fall in love. Instead, push him away, pull yourself out, place every obstacle you can on this chess-game like friendship that’s cornering you. So how is it that he’s cornered you now, arms crossed over his chest as he stares you down.

“I’ve been busy.” You sigh with a shake of your head. It’s not a lie, you have been rather busy with the sudden influx of paperwork and rebuilding that comes with the rebuilding of the Akademiya. But you’ve still made an effort to steer clear of Al-Haitham when you could. It was changing your daily routes, choosing to take longer walks around the Akademiya to get to your office in the morning, and instead taking up Kaveh’s offers to get lunch at the cafe across the city rather than the one just outside the Akademiya. 

Al-Haitham rolls his eyes ,”Do you think I’m that stupid? You’ve been actively avoiding me. This is the first time I’ve seen you in almost two weeks. So why?” You hear the slight waver in his voice as his words end. There’s a flicker of worry in his eyes that lasts for just one second, but it’s that one second that punches through your pride. It’s too late to back out now.

“Because— I don’t understand you! You buy me my favourite pastries and then tell me it’s because you wanted one too but I know you hate how sweet these are! You ask for book recommendations but I know you hate the books I read because you have this odd enjoyment of reading physics books! You seek out my company and claim it’s only because you have nothing better to do! And I don’t understand what you want from me!” He remains quiet at your words and you shake your head slightly. Of course he doesn’t say anything. When you finally put him in check, he doesn’t know what to say. His pawns are gone, chess pieces not set up for your play, so he stays quiet. 

“I don’t like feeling whatever this feeling is.” Your hands tremble as you bring them to your chest. The words bubble up from your chest and there’s no stopping them now. Not after you’ve pushed them down for so long and watched from a distance, because this distance is what has kept you going for so long. 

“I see you and— and suddenly I have this stupid smile on my face and my heart beats faster and you don’t even know!” You cry out, “You don’t care that time and time again I have to turn away just because I get so worried that you’ll see me and know.!” He stares at you blankly and you hate it. You hate that you can’t read any emotions in those pretty eyes of his. You hate that his mouth hasn’t moved, not a twitch or a smirk, or a smile, or anything. You hate that his hands reach up to grasp yours, the surprisingly soft texture of his gloves stark against your clammy palms.

He opens his mouth and you brace for the worse, only for him to say softly, “Breathe, please.” A shaky breath rattles your lungs as you stare at him, mouth parted in a mix of surprise at the sudden contact and how damn close he is. There’s a mix of something in those pretty eyes of his as he ducks down to look at you from behind his grey swept hair. A smile, a rare, genuine one tugs on his lips and you can only stare. You’ve laid out your emotions bare for him to see, put him in check position and can only wait for him to make his next move.

And what you hate the most about Al-Haitham is his infuriating ability to take his time, even in the most stressful of situations. You’re acutely aware of your breathing, the rise and fall of your chest and his as you stand in silence. Your hands, no doubt sweaty, still shake even in his gentle grasp and you  know that he can see the way your eyes dart around nervously, refusing to hold eye contact with him.

“After knowing me for so long, I thought that you might be able to read me just as well.” Forget how nervous you feel at the moment. You want to strangle him for his cryptic words. He’s always been good at this, dangling the truth in front of everyone’s eyes under the disguise of honey coated words and half-truths. Perhaps, at another time, you would indulge in riddled words and bite back with some of your own, but now they only irritate you. And Al-Haitham knows it. Just the thought of it brings a teasing grin to his face, one you recognize immediately.

“Don’t you think it’s rather foolish of you to avoid me like this?” Al-Haitham hums and steps back to give you some space. He doesn’t let go of your hands. “After all this time, you’d think that maybe you might realize that I care for you just as much, if not more, as you do for me.” You let the words sink in, bask in their warmth before scowling at him. Tugging your hands from his grasp you push at him gently, ignoring the feeling of his chest against your fingers as you look away.

“Just say you like me too.” You grumble. Al-Haitham’s fingers come to drag along your skin, teasing yet comforting as he laughs, “What a childish way of putting it.” You roll your eyes but stay in your spot, relishing in the turn of events. Quick as it may have been, and far too unexpected for your liking, you’d be lying if you said this wasn’t something Al-Haitham would do.

He hums, catching your attention once more. “So, are you done avoiding me?”

“Keep up this attitude and I won’t be.” Al-Haitham grins and you can’t help but match his expression. But nothing prepares you for the brief kiss that his planted on your forehead, a promise sealed without words, an act of comfort and honesty. And in the confines of these four walls, you let yourself fall in love again. 

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3

Masterlists of SMAU’s because i cannot keep up with it

i do not own any of this

Albedo -

adore u (literally) by fuyuobsession (completed)

Artificial. by yuzuricebun

clash of hearts by zephyrxiao

dar + ling by togesgf

Xiao -

Good 4 u by ilkuni (completed)

be my mistake by aequha (completed)

cynosure by starglitterz (completed)

someone you like! by rrinsluvr

up turn! by kaz3yo

call it what you want bye aequha

10 things i hate about you by x-xxiaos

Childe -

Upper Side Dreamin’ by fuyuobsession

february! by rrinsluvr

Second Choice by sataroi

Scaramouche -

Love is a song by thomacrumbs

abyssal love by calxide

pulled by an act by bobachiibaka

Kazuha - 

earworm by himekuwu

clear weather all around brightens the heart by apotatouwu

favorite poet by arminsbimbo

Ayato - 

lowkey by ilkuni

Toge -

Like you meant it by tbhbee

— 𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐎𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐘.

❝𝐈𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥.❞

SUMMARY. refers to a behaviour or way of thought peculiar to an individual; but in this case, it’s something that they do around you and only you.

CHARACTERS. tighnari, alhaitham, cyno.

GENRE. fluff, a moderate amount of crack, established relationship.

CW. mentions of cute aggression and affectionate bullying (in tighnari’s part), the reader is down bad for alhaitham and he knows it, one dad joke about cryo slimes (in cyno’s part).

THOUGHTS. finally managed to finish this draft while i was on my mini vacay >:) this is my first time writing sumeru men, so feel free to lmk what you think! <3

✰ masterlist.

TIGHNARI … likes to knock you on the head, very softly and lovingly.

No, no, don’t you go around thinking that you can escape his long and stern lectures just because the two of you are an item. Others may think that you’re the only one that has a privilege they don’t, but they can’t be more wrong.

Asking dumb questions? Flirting with him shamelessly? Want a kiss? You’d get a soft bonk to the head personally delivered by Tighnari himself first, if that even counts as a privilege.

Rest assured that Tighnari’s intent is never to hurt you, nor does it actually hurt when he does so. To him, it’s an effective way of hushing you nonverbally and it also, may or may not, be his extremely unique love language. Why?

Well, Tighnari kind of… and he stresses, just kind of likes how you scrunch your nose every time he flicks your forehead, how you would complain so adorably and how you would— ahem. Actually, he has some work to do right now, bye.

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