Lovesick (albedo X Gn!reader)

Tighnari and his ears 💚

#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) !!

promise

[ scaramouche x child!reader ]

summary: promises are made to be broken. and scaramouche is a broken man.

note: this is purely platonic, i love feral platonic dynamics ueueue also damn this is slowly becoming a scara blog huh | m.list

words: 1054 | warnings: unedited because im lazy as fuck

"you want me to… leave?"

scaramouche stares down at you with a commanding look, arms crossed as he sits you down on the couch after claiming that he has an important task for you.

"that's right. leave this place the moment the doctor goes for sumeru, am i understood?"

"but—"

"no, that is an order."

your mouth shuts at the sparkle of crackling electro in the air.

to leave him brings you a sense of fear and anxiousness tantamount to the number of people's throat that you had cut in half. to leave him means to be alone once more. to be separated means to not follow behind him with watchful eyes, no more of his stories whenever he catches you awake at midnight, no more standing close to him under his hat when it rains as he drapes the ends of his sleeves over your head to keep you dry.

to leave him means no more home to go back to.

why?

why would he ask you this when you have nowhere to go? no family to go back to other than him?

is he?...

"am i… am i disposable?"

scaramouche visibly staggered at your whispered words, pointing his furrowed eyes at you.

"what? i did not say that, brat."

"but you want me to leave. am i being disposed of?"

"wha—listen, brat," scaramouche sighs loudly, "i'm not disposing of you. i'm telling you to leave this place—why are you crying!?"

silent streams of tears cascade your cheeks, your teeth chomping on the inner skin of your bottom lips to keep it from trembling. after all, scaramouche hates it when you cry. he hates it when you're being weak.

perhaps it is because you're weak that he finds you replaceable?

"i can hear your thoughts from the look on your face, brat," scaramouche sighs tiredly, pushing himself up to crouch in front of you. with one hand, he tilts your chin up to look at your teary eyes—something in his chest aches at the very sight of your crestfallen face. if he had a heart, he's pretty sure it would stop beating for a second, though he dares not utter such sentiments.

"stop crying."

"you don't want me here."

"that's not what i said, are you deaf?" he clicked his tongue with a glare, the hand on your chin coming up to flick your forehead—albeit painless, so unlike his usual flicks. "i'm telling you to leave because i won't be here if anything happens while i'm in sumeru. you're leaving this place for your own safety."

dumbfounded, you tilt your head in silent confusion.

"you're still stupid as ever."

"i'm not," you pout.

"if you're not then you should know why you have to leave, idiot," scaramouche leans a little close to speak quietly, a stern look in his eyes that speaks volume of how important his next words are, "listen carefully. i will have to stay in sumeru for a very long time and the doctor will be there. do you still remember the doctor?"

"yes," you nod, "the psycho man with a mask."

you're a psycho yourself, he thought.

"that's right, but he's not the only one i'm looking out for. the other idiots in the fatui are going to come after you if they see the chance to do so. i know you're capable on your own, but those are harbingers that can and will eliminate you if you give them the smallest reason to do so," his eyebrows furrow at his own words—mental images of the things they can possibly do to you shall you defy their orders and he resist the urge to shiver—"that's why you're leaving. run as far away as you can and never leave a trace. don't let others see you, hear you, or even have the slightest chance of getting to you," a hand cups your puffy cheek, eyes staring right into yours as if looking through your soul.

so… he's not throwing me out?

"am i understood?"

with a sniff, you nod your head, wiping your tears sloppily before he scoffs and does it himself, a pair of cold hands that's been tainted in blood now gently wipes the crystal pearls from your cheeks.

"what about you?"

"what about me?" he echoed.

"promise me you'll come find me?"

taken aback, his hand leaves your cheeks for a moment, eyes wide with a combination of awe and disbelief. he feels uncertainty and a sense of dejavu overcome his senses, a fear making itself known at the back of his mind despite burying it six feet underground and more. the fire that burnt bright in his chest begins to distinguish, flickers of flame wavering and embers diminishing. this only happens for a second, before he steels himself and searches for any hint of deception in yours. yet he finds none in those hopeful eyes that dares demand him of promises.

how audacious of you to ask promises from him?

"are you dumb? who says anything about

not coming back?" his hand holds your cheeks once more, distracting himself by pinching the skin. "you belong to the spot next to me first and foremost, i thought i made that clear the first day i dragged you out of the streets?" he clicks his tongue, squishing your already pouty cheeks. "what? do you think this is your chance to finally leave? hah! you can't get away from me no matter where you hide, brat."

"ow!" you whine, trying to pull away from his hand but he pulls you close by your shoulders. almost immediately, your head nestles itself on his shoulder.

"i'll do whatever you ask me for," you exhaled a shaky breath, "as long as you promise to come find me."

if he had a heart, he knows it would be aching at the way you instantly melt in his arms—you're already small, yet you still manage to hide yourself within his hold.

it almost seems like you're hiding from the world by snuggling in his arms.

"i'll come find you," he ascertained, a hand brushing through your hair, "i'll make sure to bring you back. so for the meantime, you better stay alive."

"i will, i promise."

scaramouche closes his eyes, feeling his stomach drop at your words.

he's heard those same words before.

finally my tags work and i can type a whole ass essay like i wanted to >:D

inazuma’s archon can finally enjoy the world

ha?

every single person who reblogs this

every

single

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will get “doot doot” in their ask box

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

as one.

The Ruthless Prince: Illustrated on Paperback book (Giveaway!)

Hello everyone! After hundreds of hurdles and an infinite amount of time I’m finally able to publish The Ruthless Prince on Amazon! 

I know this may seem like I’m gunning for money, but please don’t misunderstand, this is just something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, print my own book! (Also the whole story is still available on tumblr FOR FREE, it’s your own choice whether or not to support me by buying the paperback/ebook version) 

I’m well aware that this is fanfiction, so before anyone goes ahead and messages me that I’m not allowed to sell fanmade items, Mihoyo very much allows the sale of fanmade items, all you have to do is send in an application!

Nevertheless, original story, fanfiction, whatever it may be…I believe that this is still a work of art. I’m just glad that I was able to see it through. 

On to the good stuff!

The whole story is still available on tumblr but the paperback/ebook edition has some extras, mainly:

1. Two extra chapters

2. There are 6 coloured illustrations included.

GIVEAWAY TIME! (under the cut)

Keep reading

not proofread dumb little drabble

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scaramouche used to shove you around a lot

mentally, physically, he’d do anything he could to convince you to leave your rank among the harbingers, to convince you that you were better off seen as a traitor than part of them.

he’d hurt you whenever he got the chance, urging you to stay away from him or he’d do it again.

he hated the way the wind picked up your hair sometimes

how you were so fragile and weak, and how you looked ashamed every time he struck you.

the way your eyes still widened and you cowered away with every “GET AWAY FROM ME!” he could muster out of his venomous lips.

he hated the way childe let you sleep on his shoulder, and the way he’d play with your hair as he whispered praises to you

and the way that a recent mission had gone

you’d made it to mondstadt only for the knights to find you, drug you, and use whatever methods they could to pry information from you.

by the time scaramouche had arrived to you (only because he couldn’t allow a fellow harbinger to die), you were already drugged out of your mind.

he found the fact you could barely walk incredibly amusing

but oh he hated the way you just suddenly, in your foggy mind, had the idea to kiss him.

and the way you did it so tenderly

if he didn’t know better he may have thought you weren’t drugged at all, the way your kiss was so controlled, almost loving

he hated the way it didn’t taste like alcohol or odd substances, but instead sweet and heartfelt.

he hated the way… that he kissed you back, that he melted into you like salt into water.

the way that you avoided childe once you had finally arrived back at goth grand hotel, your shivering body opting to scaramouche instead, he pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you

you smelled so nice, intoxicating almost, finally laying down in the bed, next to him, allowing him to wrap himself around you so you wouldn’t be cold or feel unsafe while you were so vulnerable

vulnerable enough for him to kill you

he’d thought about it, even gone as far as to bring his knives up to your throat, it would take one slash.

yet every time, he seemed to catch sight of your lips, the way your face seemed to be disturbed and afraid even in your sleep.

“s-scara…” you’d whimper through tears, even though you weren’t awake. the 4th time you’d cried in your sleep tonight, the 4th nightmare of the night.

the way you called out his name in fear but also desperation, “master scaramouche please…” you spoke in a way that drove knives into his heart and tore it open like paper “please don’t i…. im sorry sir” he watched you shift around and plead until you eventually jolted awake, sweat dripping from your forehead and tears running down your face.

he looked at you with wide eyes. shock and something else you couldn’t quite identify filled them. you turned away quickly, apologizing profusely.

“y/n.” he spoke sternly but almost calmly “look at me when i speak to you”

you looked at him without hesitation, expecting another slap or punishment for looking away from him when you weren’t supposed to, you flinched when his hand reached out to you but never met your skin, but instead met the back of your head as he pulled you into his chest before letting go and wrapping his arms around you.

a “hug” he had seen others call it. touch. touch in an affectionate way was unfamiliar to him, only leaving him room for combat and battle, but never to understand how your skin felt or the warmth it radiated, the feeling of your heart, the feeling of you beginning to sob against him.

“master scaramouche……..what did i do wrong?” your voice seemed to break more with every word, your fear of him rising with every breath you took and tear you cried. you tried to pull away, afraid you’d get a single teardrop on his clothing and he’d make you scrub it off relentlessly, but he pulled you back in, caressing your hair.

“kunikuzushi” he spoke softly, causing you to gaze up at him with glossy eyes and skin that burned red from tears. “my name is kunikuzushi”

he looked at you again, laying his forehead on top of your forehead, doing what you did to him, placing a kiss on your lips as if they were made of the thinnest glass.

“tell me what they did to you.”

“they tied me down, and asked me questions, and hit me and gave me some… pills i think they were… it hurt kunikuzushi, it hurt so much.”

whatever softness you had seen in him mere moments ago was gone. fire reignited in his eyes and lightning touched at his soul.

“i’m just… so tired..so cold”

“rest then, suppose i should rest too”

he watched you try to lay on the ground instead of the bed, being your usual submissive and selfless personality and allowing him to have the bed, but he grabbed your wrist gently and patted the space next to him

“i will deal with our little mondstadt issue tomorrow, okay?”

you nodded your head lightly

“however your cold issue can only be solved by… becoming warm?”

you nodded again, confused this time.

“forget it. come here.”

and you found your back pressed to his chest under the covers again, warmth almost immediately consuming you

thus you gained your name

12th of the Fatui Harbingers, The Puppeteer