I live by the river. Almost every day I see a strange young man, I think he is called the kabukimono. I watch him from my window most days, watching him walk by the river… dip his feet in the water or talk to the wildlife. Sometimes he comes late in the dead of the night, the dogs have learned to stop barking, and other times he comes before the sun rises, before the people wake up. But his focus is always on the river.
It’s not on our rare and beautiful gardens that I help my mom tent to every day during the afternoon. Sometimes I wonder why the kabukimono doesn’t come when we’re awake, is it afraid? It seems gentle.
It’s not on my paintings that I leave to draw on the porch some days. Sometimes I do see him gaze at them, curious but his expression always has some hint of… melancholy. Despite how carefree he blows in the wind of the night. Dancing by the river.
One night I snuck out, he’s by the river he or, it is. almost everyone in the village knows. I wonder how, is it the air he carries? The clothes he wears? I can hear him speaking quietly, whispering;
“I wish to be human with a real heart”
And then I realize why he has come to my river all these nights that turned into days and weeks. It was because of a wish… I and some other children grew out of such silly things, wishes are for children they never come true. A wish to be human like in the books my mom would read, the books I’ve given away. Is it possible?
One day my family moved away. I never saw the kabukimono again but I remember my very last painting was of him, by the water. I hoped he would see it and know that I carefully put time into it, everyone knows I only paint what I find beautiful. Beautiful things. I hoped he would feel better then, his solemnly made wish stayed on my mind for years. As did the painting
One day I went back, just for nostalgia I suppose as nothing was the same anymore, deserted and lonely. Everything was broken and decayed. I wonder what happened, if I think long enough I remember it started not long after that change in the furnace. A core? That’s what my parents used to say.
In a way I hoped he would be here, his long beautiful black hair. Pale skin, dark eyes. His silk robes by the same river I saw him at in my youth. The golden feather he carried but no one ever knew how he had it. I smiled a bit remembering some rumors about him, I remember he used to play with the younger children too. My parents were more judgmental, they told me to be weary. To be careful.
As I walk down the river to my old house I noticed, someone there in the same spot he, the kabukimono used to be in; he was standing there and looking into the water. He had a really big hat with a veil coming from the back. I can’t make out much other than that, in the dead of the night where only the moon shines for guidance
I didn’t want to disturb him so I stopped my stroll here and also peered into the river. I don’t remember seeing him around but perhaps he would know of what happened to the kabukimono that used to live here. Sometimes i wish nothing had changed. He seemed tense when i approached him and he had this air that was almost electrifying.
“Excuse me sir, may I ask a question?”
He didn’t say anything, just inhaled and crossed his arms but didn’t move away. I guess that was the green light to ask. I realize now up close, he has an air of familiarity. I wonder why, I’d remember anyone from this quaint little village. He smells of earth and something else, it’s comforting.
“I was just wondering… um, if you knew what happened to the kabukimono that used to live here. This was my old house and he’d come to our river almost every night…”
Although I’m not looking into the lake, instead at him before looking at the ground I can see his gaze soften for just a second in the water. When he speaks I get that familiarity again.
“What happened to the doll is none of my concern, perhaps he too; eroded with the people and memories of this wretched place.”
His voice was harsh and low, I almost flinched as if his tone was directed towards me. I wonder how he could say such words about our beautiful home? Sure it… definitely wasn’t as beautiful now. With some fatui here, and the monsters deciding to move into some places but it was once a flourishing mining town, to call it a.. wretched place didn’t fit right with me. Nevertheless I didn’t ask why.
It was quiet for a while before I spoke again
“I guess I just would’ve liked to see him again, he was the only thing on my mind when I saw him by this lake one night… at first I thought he was looking for trouble but… he soon became the muse for my paintings. I never got to give him one”
Although I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to say this, I’m not typically the kind of person to just blurt out my life. Maybe it’s just the odd intimacy of the moment, the way the moon shined, the way he looks under the moon, his hat casted a shadow over his face but you can still see his features, it wasn’t an understatement to say he’s beautiful.
I almost didn’t notice he was looking at me now, his eyes seemed a bit softer but still held that harsh edge.
“You… weren’t afraid of him?” He sounded almost shocked, curious.
“No.. I mean not really, my parents never let me play with him to know anything about him. I don’t think he was dangerous just lonely.” Now that I think about it, I can’t exactly remember his face it makes me frustrated to think I’ve forgotten over all these years. Whenever I try to think of it… I can only see the beautiful silky black of his hair instead. His silk robes flowing in the wind.
“….”
It was quiet for a while, just the sound of the river flowing, our breathing, the nightly creatures. I think he was thinking too, I tried really hard to remember his face, kabukimono’s face. Have I… never seen it? In the dark of the night it is hard to make out features but I felt there was always something illuminating him by the lake, he stood out in a good way.
“That painting. You used to paint him…. By the river correct?” It’s intriguing how almost everything he says sounds like a statement, a matter of fact rather than questions or opinions. As if he knew already, It’s also interesting how he knew of my paintings whom I hid away from the eyes of my parents and the townsfolk, I wanted it to be for his eyes only. Kabukimono’s.
“Yeah something like that, I mean. It was the only frame of reference I had. Afterwards I’d leave it out to dry during the night hoping he’d see it… I never knew if he did or not.”
“I think he might’ve, perhaps a lost soul like him were to be grateful to catch the eye of such a talented artist.”
“Oh, why thank you-” I was abruptly cut off by him. “save it. I’m only telling the truth” I believe he shifted away, using his hat to hide his face but I still caught the hint of red on his cheeks, cute.
“Wherever he is I hope he knows, his wish came true a long time ago.”
does anyone know this one fic where reader was like a fox spirit similar to yae and kabukimono stayed with them because yae left him with them. they were kinda rude and said they didnt want him there. scara then leaves for the fatui at the end
in the 2nd part he then came back to them after sumeru and were talking about his godhood
I want to share my personal take on yandere Kabukimono. Because I feel like people who like to play with the idea kinda jump into it too fast and don't really consider the build up into it which is actually sad and way more suffocating than you'd think.
Basically because The Kabukimono in this scenario wouldn't know how to put words to his emotions yet and wouldn't understand boundaries or human social expectations, I feel like he'd be unintentionally creepy.
Doing stuff like always staring at you unblinkingly for long periods of time and following after you. But when confronted he'd be so honest and earnest about his actions like
"I wanted to be near you." Or "Why shouldn't I stare? You're pretty like the moon."
Zero perverse feelings while saying this stuff. He just genuinely wouldn't understand what he's doing wrong since he's acting on instinct.
These same instincts though would only worsen. Especially if his obsession remained unchecked.
He'd try to hug you, smell you, touch your arm or hair unexpectedly, or even enter your house while you slept just because he likes watching you breathe and thinks you look pretty while you sleep. Again, all this would be without sexual intentions. He'd really just struggle to fathom boundaries.
Also without a doubt because he seeks comfort in your presence and likes how you make him feel, he'd probably collect things you left behind. Like ribbons, hair clips, old blankets etc. and he'd sleep with them close because they'd smell like you and that scent calms him. He'd start mimicking your mannerisms too and saying words you use.
But here's where it would start to get scary. And it would start with unnamed jealousy. He wouldn't know what it was. He'd just know that he'd feel his stomach go cold and his chest burn when he saw you talking to another person for too long or walk home with someone besides him. But he'd never hurt anyone. No. Instead he'd just unintentionally become more manipulative over time as he learned that interrupting your conversations would make people go away. Or that faking an injury and crying to you would make you pay attention to him again. He'd never do this out of malicious intent though oddly enough. Monopolizing your time and space would be something he'd do out of fear and desperation to not lose you or be discarded again by someone he sees as important. In fact, any attempt to confront him wouldn't even be met with anger or deceit, he'd probably just cry and plead through tears
"Why are you mad? What did I do wrong? Please don't leave I promise I'll be better! Why do you keep letting them around you and get upset at me? Have I hurt you? I'm sorry!"
And even all this would just be the beginning of what is to come. Because after this someone else would surely try to intervene. They'd try explaining the concept of love and jealousy to Kabukimono in hopes that understanding his feelings would help him see how his actions have frightened you but without help processing these emotions, Kabukimono wouldn't realize his behavior was suffocating, he'd simply place his new feelings on a pedestal. Seeing his jealousy as evidence that your love is real and should be protected because it's a special feeling.
His confused mistakes would become active pursuit fast.
He'd feel more possessive of your time and space because in his mind you two share a beautiful feeling together. Justifying his jealous actions more because he believes they are necessary in proving that his devotion is sincere. But he still wouldn't be dangerous yet. His new frightening actions would still come from good intentions. Doing stuff like secretly locking the door to your house when you invite him over and hiding the key. Ignoring you when you ask about it and just saying stuff like
"why do you want to go out? Just stay here with me. I can take care of you. I'm very capable." Or "don't you like being with me? Do you hate me too? I just want to spend time together."
Everything would be uncomfortable but survivable. Until you remember that Kabukimono canonically mirrors people and tries to copy what others do. He'd see other people in love kissing, holding hands, being close and he'd believe that's what he should do too.
A thought simply like
"People who are in love kiss. I love y/n. I want to kiss her."
And then he would. And that's where it would start getting frightening. He wouldn't be forceful but he'd be clingy and would push boundaries without meaning to. Doing stuff like kissing you when he feels insecure or clinging to you when he's lonely. Maybe even attempting to make out with you after you get upset with him because he saw other couples do it and doesn't understand the warmth behind those actions while trying to perform the idea of love with you.
And yet if he was still met with your discomfort. That's when his mind would finally enter dark territory.
His mind wouldn't allow him to believe you don't love him too. He'd start trying to figure out what's wrong and treat it like a problem to be solved. Thoughts like
"She just doesn't understand our love." Instead of "she doesn't like this." Or "if she just stopped resisting we could be happy together." Or even "if no one else was around her then there wouldn't be anyone but me for her to care about."
And that's when it would stop being sweet. Because by then he'd actually be terrifying. Doing stuff like intentionally isolating you or locking you away for "your safety" and so "no one else got in the way". He'd take your exhaustion and fear of upsetting him into worse behavior as a sign that his decision was correct. That you just needed help realizing your love for him. He'd justify anything that meant he was simply putting your attention back on your connection and archons help you if you got pregnant.
He'd see it as the ultimate symbol that he was right and you two were meant to be together. Saying stuff like
"see? This proves it. This happened because we are together. If I let you leave, then our baby wouldn't exist. Don't worry I promise I'll take care of both of you."
Warnings include:
Death, Il Dottore implied, and mild descriptions of gore.
By Rena||Shyent
The shame that comes with being unable to reciprocate warmth, and to take from you. All he can do is take from you.
3.24k words
He remembered the warmth buzzing beneath his body, the warmth of the floor. A sign that he was there.
When he'd lost his heart, that humming heat, if it could be made up once more, only by a little, it could only be through your body heat. Something he doesn't need.
You hold his hand, his thigh he tucks between yours, your cheek against his hair and his chest against yours, and he's never felt so warm. But there are nights where in which you shiver against his neutral body, as winter comes to an end and the heat he'd insulated from the earlier seasons are concentrated into his core. And he felt ashamed to understand that all he could do is take and take from you in those instances.
Kabukimono had asked you then if you'd prefer to separate until the end of winter.
"What about you?" you asked, but not awaiting his answer, you press stronger against his skin.
And huffing through his nose, he mimics an expression that of anger in order to put across a point of disapproval. That he does, you've realised; mimicking expressions he'd observed from others. Not fully understanding what they're meant say, but this one, at least, should be one that expresses strong disapproval.
"Angry?"
"No," he pouts. He's mastered that one at least, given how many times you've done it at everything that even mildly inconveniences you. "This is how you get sick."
"A little bit of cuddling isn't going to give someone hypothermia. Būks, you heard 'hypothermia happens when someone's too cold' and now you fly off whenever you think it's 'too cold'".
His face falls flat.
"I do not 'fly off'-"
You tap his nose and shush him with reassurement, and by the end of the week, of course, you had a cold. To say that Kabukimono was unamused would be an understatement. Concerned? Yeah. Vindicated? You wish.
You'd waited until he'd left for the nearest village to start groaning and whining out grumbles you'd held back around him in order to maintain a semblance of righteousness in your decision. You insulated yourself in a pile of blankets that made you sweaty but did nothing to ease how terribly cold you felt. The appreciation for air and a clear nose had gone underappreciated it seems.
In the past, illness felt hot yet cold and stuffy. Sickness was even the mildest of sunlight burning into your retinas and bitter tea at the back of your throat. It meant being buried under a pile of blankets and your left foot retreating in and out of the heavy layers. Nothing to cling onto, no one to hold. No one to rub your back as everyone had to go about their day and keep the house running and going. Dreams of loneliness and an aching head and your own eyes wet with tears in isolation.
And as you faded in and out of consciousness dreaming about your childhood, cushioned into darkness, you couldn't tell whether or not you'd already been awake as Kabukimono untangled you from your cocoon. He's back.
Your eyes were glazed over and stung, and it distorted the violet vividness you stared into—his eyes—, into abstract as cold hands cupped your cheek and a cool surface pressed against your forehead. You shiver, and he sighs against your lips.
You murmur to him about the warmth of his breath and it hitches, and after a moment, he leans in, and skin flutters against your lips as heat humidifies your skin before he pulls back just as swift. You felt it, but it went unnoticed by you, unprocessed, and quickly forgotten in your daze.
You didn't want to move to your resting space, your thighs ached, as well as your head, joints, ears and heels, and you think he disapproves. But as you blink away the swelter and tears, his expression is still rather blank aside from from the pinch in his brows. Steam licks your face as he holds a cup to your face,
"…already?"
"You need to drink it while it's warm, or else I'll have to reheat it."
He can already see the disgust written on your expression and says, "I've met children more responsible with their health than you."
"I've met nicer…uhm…urgh," you couldn't think of anything intelligent to back yourself up with, and him bringing the hot medicine to your lips only made you grunt.
After a few moments of you making false commitments to sipping on the medicine like brat, he tried his hand at bribery. Each time you took a sip of the tea, he'd assure you of the promise every time you sought to confirm and confirm and confirm again that he'll do your portion of the chores for the rest of the next season. No, he's not lying. Yes, the chores also includes cleaning the futons. No, that does not include breakfast. But if you stop asking for confirmation, he'll consider it.
To be cold was an uncomfortable experience, and though humans would quicker express it as an uncomfortable inconvenience, Kabukimono knew that sensations of discomfort often exists on a scale of pain.
He'd startled you with a stern tone when you'd tried to pull him to sleep alongside you the following day when you think he'd get any lenient, unyielding. Kabukimono felt tempted as you challenged him each time, fighting against your exhaustion and the sleep dragging you under, to be closer to you.
"It's cold…"
"I can bring you another blanket."
"Nooo, my heart is cold. This is neglect, Kabu."
The silence that followed might have granted you shame, but you felt too tired to be bothered with the thinking that required it. You hood your covered curls with the blanket and sit up against his wishes, and he glares and huff but makes no move to exercise his 'Kabu-strength' (your teasing words, not his) against it.
Your joints ache when you stand on your knees. He shuffles away when you move closer.
"Oh by the archons–you're acting like a kitty."
"Have you considered that the cats do not like you because you're too clingy?"
"Cats love me."
"When you're being a pushover and offer up your meals to them, maybe," he smirks. Where did he learn that one, you wonder.
"If this cold doesn't kill me, your heartlessness will," your snort, wet and stuff as you sniffle.
"Ha. Ha. Very funny."
"Ah, ah, and, you like it when I'm clingy. I'm extra warm during this time of the year you know."
"Because you're always sick, I'm sure; you can't get through four words at a time before snot rolls down your nose, I'm not-"
Before you can hit the floor, tripping over yourself, he really couldn't have been anywhere else but the place where in which you fell over as you stumbled over yourself, you think. Kabukimono had gone from fleeing to holding you in his arms, saving you from the impact. You took it as an opportunity to lock your arms around him.
And yes, you understand fully that he absolutely does have a point. For the best of your health, holding off from cuddling against him would be optimal. It isn't as if you're seeking to do it for the sake of it though, you truly do make an attempt to be smart about it.
But it's not your fault, it's his.
Look at him.
You blink away the wet glaze hard enough just to see it and please, sweets. Don't look so sad. You pull the blanket over your shoulders and knot it behind his neck before he could pull away. But if he wanted, you think he would.
You're not the best at reading the expressions on another's face, but sometimes, you think that despite everything and despite his lack of expressions, that you could interpret him just fine when he doesn't even try.
He hesitates too much, even in your arms. When he buries his face against the fabrics over your chest, it could be for nothing else but to hide his shame. When your breathing evens out, you think that he's crying. You hadn't had the chance to see him spill tears in a long time, not since you'd met and peeled him off the dirt and ashes and crumbling, wood set aflame. His burning rage as if he'd wished for the ground to give out on all of Teyvat, trying to crawl back and to meld into the flame in order to die, that proved to be just as fruitless as your ignorant, mortal self trying to save him. Getting ugly burn scars in the process.
The tears would be dried by the time the sun had parted from the tallest hills that stood strong at the horizons, hanging above in the grey and purple sky of Inazuma. But so much can be said about the way Kabukimono's fists would clench and unclench around your clothes, strong yet insecure. How he'd turn away when his cheeks turned blue and how he'd experimentally touch your wrists before holding them in full, waiting for you to flinch away as he tried to grab your attention.
You can't deny how the proximity makes you shiver and how it likely contributed to your ailments. But you exhale against his forehead, shifting your hips for you to lie on your side at the space between his legs. And what you'd do again and again to see that look of confusion on his face. Bittersweet, absolutely, but the sweetness is palpable nonetheless.
You shield the back of Kabukimono's head and push him by the shoulder against the floorboards. And this frosty-skinned pillar of an individual would let you. His cheeks cooled, blue rose underneath his skin. Your heat seeps into his. The wood felt hard underneath you, even painful, but it somehow felt more comfortable than being lonely on soft sheets. It was right.
He thinks something along the lines of maybe this is what it's like for someone to be parental towards you, when you secure the duvet over him too, as if it could keep him from pulling away and insulate him with you. Your scarred hand combs through his hair, and he whispers,
"You'll never get better if you keep this up."
"You a doctor?" you croak. But he doesn't have to be a doctor to preserve common sense.
Once again, he didn't grace you with a response to your provocations, but rather, a question.
"Why are you so insistent?"
You can hear the winds raging outside, and it took you a moment before you could process it. Was he scared to ask? You'd seen how this question had weighed on his tongue, and it'd remind you every time to prepare an answer in advance because even then, you weren't sure yourself. Attraction? The books you'd read?
He was ready to return you back to your proper resting place as your lids come to a shut. The words that followed were unintelligible. Throughout the rest of your recovery, you didn't ask him anymore to rest with you. In self-deprecation, he thought 'good riddance'.
"But you should know," you suddenly said, months later on the path home. Your eyes trailing along the edges of the trees to the grey clouds in the orange sky.
Your fingers were constantly picking at the hem of the bag. You'd told him that you'd eat the confectioneries when you'd arrived home, but it seems as if you were constantly forgetting that declaration yourself. Splitting it open, reaching in before remembering yourself and retreating. He'd admit, he found it terribly endearing.
There's perhaps a form of status you acquire when you're alongside Kabukimono. Most know him not to be of any known greater status, but perhaps it's his beauty and apparel that demands a certain kind of respect from the townsfolk. His proximity to the almighty shogun. One that forces people to shed their disapproval of you in their demeanour, your fingers around his wrist and the affection in his eyes commands it. It's his right.
You'd taken so long to say anything in addition, he'd assumed perhaps it was just another one of your stims, or maybe you'd forgotten your train of thought the moment those words had left your mouth.
"When I'm sick, it's not like…I'll ever feel warm to the extent I want anyway. With or without you."
"What does that…it doesn't erase how it delays your recovery. "
"I-I guess not," you twist your lips. "But…it's still nice."
"You're easy to take advantage of."
"Do you think that you're taking advantage of me?"
He doesn't answer, but it was more than enough.
This what you feel against your skin, is the sensation of the summer sun setting. That's what Kabukimono feels like. Kabukimono is like a sponge, for both scents and the temperature alike, for better or for worse. Today, he smells like bitter nuts, the market, cleansing oils and home; what a lovely combination. You play a game of "What did Kabu do today", and it's like a new and improved version of counting sheep.
Without warning, you stop talking and you both fall into a comfortable silence. His breath is in tandem with yours, following alongside with precision.
Anytime he thinks you're about to fall asleep, you always catch him off guard with an attempt at starting a conversation.
"You're not taking advantage of me…talk with me," you nudge him.
Kabukimono thinks that by reaching underneath your light robes, starting his finger tips at the edge of your burn scars and running along the edges of the bumps, it'd be enough to make a point. You sigh at the contact.
"Don't be stupid, that has nothing to do with anything."
"I think it says more than words, no?"
"If you feel the need to bring up something in the past, something I've already forgiven you for, then sweetie, maybe it's irrelevant."
His cheeks cools at the endearment, and he doesn't know how to scoff yet. Or to roll his eyes, or to say something snarky to sneak and sly away from confronting his feelings towards such endearment through words, so rather. The scamper is clumsy, unintentionally abrupt and obvious.
"That's unfair…It's not fair," he sighs. "It's…I'm taking from you. It's–"
It's something bigger than just the warmth. But he thinks that it's representative, the warmth that he takes and the illness he inspires that is. It makes him feel selfish. And it could have been only so long until he founding himself loving you as he did like many in the past. He could have only been so cold, so angry towards you when all that you did was leave your doors open to him time and time again.
Maybe it was because you were stupid, maybe it was because you were kind, but this man's heart isn't infallible, it never was.
Despite all of his tragedies, he has yet to be inducted. His ducts has yet to harden, he has yet to find pride in unshed tears.
It's to all but to hurt you when Kabukimono further exposes your arm and digs his fingers into it, glaring into your eyes with wet fluorescence. You think he's begging you for something. Creases of distress are around his mouth is apparent but without permanence. His expression is of anger that's hot frustration, but the violet of his cheeks matches his fear, sadness and what had seemed to be suffocating him for so long.
This beautiful, brilliant shade meeting the cold colour of his tone.
You wipe away at his tears, shaking hands reflecting your pounding heart, but to him, your eyes were enragingly gentle and carefree, like you didn't get it. Yet,
"I understand, baby," you act as if you do.
Those words made his nose burn and his stomach burn.
He believes it, he thinks he really does, still though, "do you?"
You do. You think that you do.
"I do, because, I'm not naive enough to say that your coldness won't have any negative affect on my health, y'know," his touch flinches before you could finish. "Still, I think that I receive just as much of it in equal amounts…it makes me feel whole when I'm holding someone. You get that, don't you?"
He does, and you continue.
"I think so, I trust that you do."
He'd never been one to estimate and observe the longevity of a human life, the world and people grew and passed away around him like the sun and moon through the window of a stagnant room. Age had never been one to take a loved one away from him; it was distant.
So when he'd returned just to see you before you were gone, to recover a bit of the heat that resided alongside his core before it extinguished.
He'd told you that he was going to recover his birthright.
In the future, he'd consider himself to be a fool for having left you behind. He'd be told that, though, that though he loves so deeply, he's too a slave to his grief and his dread of another betrayal, and another loss. A slave to his estrangement, and his hope of reclaiming it. But in Scaramouche's eyes, it'd been a betrayal of his own he should claim no guilt over. Wanderer believes him to be a fool and a coward in every use of the word.
At first, upon seeing your remains, he thinks that he'd already accepted that you were gone. His insides ran cold and numb. But there was a familiar itch within his nervous system, one that felt like illness. Like the infrastructure that made him up was failing weighing him down.
Pathetic sobs left him as like a failing dam, but he gasps before stopping all together. It's okay, he accepts it. And he does, and he doesn't, and he does,
until he doesn't, and his knees feels as if it's on the verge of giving out. Had he had any self-preservation, he would have held onto the wall, or the table collecting dust. But for whatever self-preservation he may have had left, it didn't motivate a desire to keep on standing, but to reach out towards the remains melting into the wooden floors that couldn't have been anybody but you.
Scaramouche forgot his sorrow, and all that he remembers is rogue rage. At you, and himself, and at you all over again. For you.
He only collapses at the edge of your corpse, sticky rotting blood and ooze sticking to his knees and palms. Flies and maggots swarmed it. He wasn't crying, he wasn't.
It was an amalgamation of things after he'd returned the days after he'd gone 'missing' to the Fatui, smelling of death. Not even he remembers what he'd done during those days. He couldn't exactly feel pain, but the disorientation of being clinically split open and taken apart for just another experiment later, things being inserted and displaced, refined and replaced into his being, was a sedative to his mind and emotional capacity. The flickering heat dying felt like the ghosts of a long gone flame.
When he once again finding himself leading life under a new name, it manifested as the sensation of a gentle caress against his tailbone, his forehead, his knees and the right cheek of his face.
Notes: I'll edit the aesthetics later lol. I just decided to post this bc it was pissing me off. I reached a block and decided I'll just upload it though I wanted to add in more things. Reader was meant to be implied to be an outcast, but it was ambiguous as to why. You can decide how as it relates to you.
The idea was that he has the ability to absorb warmth, but after a certain amount of time and quickened by the temperature, such warmth is concentrated to his core for maintenance reasons yk. But his exterior would end up being cold. Yeah? Yeah :3
Also, please praise me. Stroke my head a lot. My writing, pls. This fic stressed me out too much. When I tell you it took me half a year to write this because I'm a fucking loser. Please. Praise...meeee.
Oh, and also, my headcanon for this is that Kabukimono actively had to learn how to express himself through his face, and that it takes a long time to be able to pick up on facial muscle habits. And sometimes, he just stops all together depending on how in grief he is. After a while, he can do it flawlessly but yk, it can also imply that at times, earlier on in his life amongst humans, when he'd expressed hurt, it was because he wanted others to know that he was in pain and he might not even realise this fact himself. How much he wishes to be seen that is. Expressing himself is both hard, but it also easy for him somehow.
The image of him practicing his faces in the mirror is cute though.
He can't help but groan at the sudden downpour. The one time he decided he'd be 'nice' and get his brothers desserts, the sky decided to pull a trick on him.
It had been sunny out, no cloud in the sky. But as soon as he finished his purchase about to head home, it's storming?? If his aunt heard the curses in his head, she definitely would've whacked the back of his head. She was surprisingly strong for someone small...
As he continued to glare daggers onto the offending raindrops, he almost let out a growl at the feeling of someone tapping his shoulder. Oh this person was definitely asking for his wrath--
"Um, hi... It's me, from the cafe. You gave me a letter remember?"
Their words were slightly hesitant, but the shy look on their face told him they were just feeling awkward, perhaps bashful. He has no idea who the hell this person is, but when they mentioned 'letter' he easily put two and two together.
Kabukimono's little cafe crush.
Ugh, just remembering his lovesick ramblings made him gag. And his headache is coming back at remembering how devastated the younger sibling was at his successful-not really successful coffee invitation.
He's been sulking non-stop. Beating himself up for forgetting to put his phone number on the note. Thus the dessert hoping to make him stop being 'heart broken'.
"Here, I noticed you didn't have an umbrella. You can use mine...and...um...I'd like to have that coffee together sometimes..."
You had held out a foldable umbrella towards him and a folded piece of paper. As soon as he took it, you were already running back to your friend who was waiting for you at the side. Pulling them away with you from the bakery and sharing one umbrella.
With a raised eyebrow and their backs shrinking further in the distance, he unfolded the paper.
Your name and number.
And now that he looked closer it was a note card from that very bakery people used when they were intending to gift the desserts they bought. And your handwriting although rushed still looks tidy, perhaps you wanted to leave a good impression on him. No on Kabukimono.
You must be stupid for not being able to tell them apart. But in a cute way he suppose. You weren't all that bad looking either...
...You know what? He'll keep your number to himself for now. He needs to see whether you really were as great as Kabukimono says.
.
.
.
Bonus;
"I'm back..."
"Took your time didn't you? Hm? You bought a new umbrella?"
"Someone lent it to me what of it?", Scaramouche clicked his tongue. Brushing past his older brother towards the living room. Where as usual Kabukimono laid hunched over the coffee table, metaphorical mushrooms growing on his head.
"Oi get up and eat. Then go wash up before you spread mold all over the house"
He dropped the cake box onto the table with a small thump, earning Kabukimono's attention.
"You got me cake?"
"Tiramisu. They had a sale so there's enough for all of us.", Scaramouche said simply, already laying on the couch with his phone out. Unaware of the look Kabukimono was giving him;
Eyes all watery, but now with a gleam of appreciation.
"Scara! QAQ"
"Hey! Get off of me! And stop crying you're getting snot all over my clothes! Eww!!"
"Uwah! You're the best thank you! Waahh!"
"I'll get the kettle running"
"Oi don't leave me with this crybaby! Hey--!"
---
@arisewanekosuki I was reminded of you while writing this! Enjoy!
ᣟ𐚁˳ ⍺ʋɬჩ𑄈𐑾𑂘 ղᨵƗᧉ ᥬᩤ :: i originally wrote this for my ocxcc but i changed it to be readerxcc sorry if this sucks. no proof read
Kabukimono who still keeps the doll he made with his sister in his backpack still waiting to give her the plush
Its almost valientes day.. Ouhhh…
Maybe i can give [name] a gift… the day before valentine day.. I know her locker and stuff.. What can I give her..’
Kabukimono looks through his room and eventually finds his backpack kicked to the side of his bed. He knelt down and unzipped his backpack to see the two plushies he made of her and him wrapped delicately in a lace bow together.
‘Ough.. I remember making this for her.. Would she like this..’
He gently picked up her plushie from the bag sliding her out the ribbon looking at the mini replica of her.
‘Maybe i can go buy her some candy.. Before school starts..’
Kabukimono takes out his phone to looks at the time
Fri Feb 13
6:04
‘Eh.. ill be a little late its fine it will be a small surprise for her.. she will be in first.. No.. she will be in first period without me… no..”
THANK YOU FOR SHOPPING AT ********
COME BACK AGAIN
SELF CHECKOUT
Box of Lindor Chocolates…………….9.99
Valentines Candy Assortment……..10.99
Tax………………………………………..0.40
Out come total………………………..20.88
DO OUR SURVEY TO TELL US HOW WE DID
LOCATION NUMBER
‘Do I have a basket.. For her.. Ough..’
“[name].. hh..”
Kabukimono unlocks the door to his house and walks into his bed room and finds a small basket to use and decorates the basket with the plush he made of [name], the candy he bought, as well a written letter from eons ago he wrote (from last valentines day)
He rotates his phone screen up at him to look at the time and if school already started
Fri Feb 13
6:18
“Oh.. ill make it to the bus on time surprisingly.. But id rather walk.. i wanna place it in her locker.. hh wait.. does she use her locker today..? no..? yes..? wait she does today.. oka..”
Kabukimono slowly opens her locker hoping he wont knock down any books or decorations she has in the locker. He takes a little peak of her locker before placing the basket in her locker
‘’ she wont mind if i take something? would she.. no.. she loves me.. ‘’
He examines the locker to see if there is a pencil he could take or anything. A make up palette is what he decided on.
Shoving the make up palette into his pocket next to his phone.
“i hope she likes my gift..”
He says as he walks towards the boys bathroom the sit there until the end of the first period waiting so he could see her reaction when she opens her locker.
I wrote this with afab Kabukimono in mind and amab reader in mind but interpret it as you wish
Genshin Impact Masterlist
Word Count: 433
------------------------------
"I can't. I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't...." Is what the sweet, innocent Kabukimono chanted along quiet whimpers.
"Shhh... It's okay, doll, you can do it. All you have to do is stay quiet." [Name] assured as they kept thrusting into the poor puppet.
"I'm telling you... I can't... N-not for much longer..." The smaller whined as he trembled. [Name] pushed him further into the woodem door.
"You don't want Niwa to hear you, do you?" They asked, to which Kabukimono shook his head and bit his delicate bottom lip. "Mhm? So keep hush. I won't push you too much." [Name]'s hand gently caresses Kabukimono's bare side, sending shivers down said Kabukimono's spine.
"I-I... Mmngh... It feels like my legs are g-gonna give up on me... [Name].." He moaned out quietly.
"I've got you. It's fine." They assure.
Kabukimono focused on the lively chatter of Niwa and Katsuragi, and whoever else beyond [Name]'s bedroom door. He had never been taken so publically before, but it did feel exciting, as promised. Though, he did desperately wish to be as loud as he wanted like usual. Not that he's complaining, this kind of attention always feels like nothing he's felt before.
As his thoughts drift, so does his volume. He's brought back to reality by [Name] placing a hand over his mouth. "Mmmh-!?"
"Shhh... You're too loud. They'll hear you. Wouldn't that be embarrassing?" They gently kiss along Kabukimono's neck and eases their hand to swipe against his cheek in a comforting way.
"S-sorry... Ah... So sorryy... Mnnh.." Kabukimono shuts his eyes and tries to focus on staying quiet once more. But he was so, so close. It only gets worse as [Name] hits the spot inside him that makes him twitch and get hot all over. "I can't!" He whisper-yells. It was barely audible, as he was already panting like he had ran a marathon.
To solve the issue, the hand on Kabukimono's cheek guides his head to the side and his lips meet their lover's. [Name] swallowed and muffled all the noises from the poor puppet as they kept moving against the most sensitive area.
Kabukimono shook like a leaf as he finally feels what he's been silently praying for and his liquids stain the floor below his feet that are doing their best to keep him up.
[Name] starts slowing down until they slip out before pulling away from Kabukimono and catching their breath. "There you go, doll... And it sounds like our guests are none the wiser." They smile and lead Kabukimono to sit on the bed.
