“Wandereeer, I can’t sleep, you’ve been gone for too long”
“I’ll join you in a bit, I’m almost done with this.”
The whiniest whine ever leaves you. How can he be so heartless as to leave you all alone in the cold, hard bed?
"But Sweetheeeeart, you've been saying this for an hour now. I'm tired"
He glances over his shoulder, the sight to behold is truthly a pitiful one. Instead of the blankets, it should be him in your warm, loving embrace right now.
But his thesis paper is nearing completion, surely he can work on it for just a bit longer—
A tug on his sleeve makes him jump in his chair.
"Pleeeeeease Wanderer, I need you", you whine feebly, wiping a sleepy tear from the corner of your eye.
Your cute bedhead, drowsy expression, pleading eyes and cozy nightwear all make him want to pull you into a tight embrace and tell you that he's here for you to cling to all night if you so desire.
Not a request just a thought: Reader making Wanderer try on their pretty dresses because he has such a slutty snatched waist
"Not a request" haha funny joke *throws 3k words at you*
Scandalously slim waist｡˚☽˚｡
You make wanderer wear dresses because he's just so pretty in them
Tags/cw: fluff, crack, reader tormenting wanderer , suggestive especially towards the end
Links: nav | masterlist
You have a very pretty partner.
So pretty, in fact, that there’s a handful of girls in the Akademiya that have grown to have a crush on him. Sometimes they follow him around, trying (but failing) to be subtle about wanting to catch sneaky glances at him. He tells you all about it over a cup of tea, usually when he’s particularly annoyed by his most recent onlookers. There’s only one person whose gaze he actually wants on him, after all.
Other people think he’s odd looking. He’s bound to stand out wearing Inazuman attire and a not-so normal sized hat, and older folks tend to be particularly judgmental when it comes to out of the ordinary things. Not that he or you care.
Whether for good or for bad, Wanderer turns heads wherever he goes, it’s simple as that.
And archons, does he manage to turn your head.
And of course he does. He has a pretty face, very pretty and skilled hands, dainty features like those of a porcelain doll. A perfect contrast to his less-than dainty attitude, though you manage to soften it more often than not.
But there is one certain feature of his you can simply not overlook, no matter how hard you try.
His waist is just too enticing to ignore.
You swear you’re not a pervert, not even a little. He got a hold of your affection for being genuine, for being there when you needed him, for being his unapologetically cynical and yet soft-hearted self. Nothing to do with his looks, no matter how inviting they are.
That damn waist though, it’s trying its hardest to allure you.
Just recently there was an occurrence where this exact problem became a point of attention.
You were going into the kitchen to grab a small snack, if only so that your boyfriend doesn’t nag you for neglecting your ‘human needs’, when he was there, standing oh so prettily at the counter, chopping some vegetables up for dinner.
You didn’t notice it was that late already.
What you did notice, though, was his scandalously slim waist.
Admittedly, you stopped in your tracks.
“Quit staring”, he grumbled, not even looking up from the task at hand. Sometimes he makes you wonder whether puppets have a sixth sense for feeling people’s gazes.
“I wasn’t staring”, you lied. Badly.
He shot you a glance over his shoulder, clearly unconvinced. It wasn’t the fact that you were staring that made him judge, but the fact that you seriously thought that this pitiful of an attempt at lying would fool him. His tone was flat when he said, “Yes, you were.”
“Then stop tempting me!”, you whined dramatically, too wound up in your lie being detected, “It’s so unfair. How are you this distracting without even trying?”
“Distracting?”, he repeated incredulously, a faint flush creeping onto his cheeks. His gaze instantly turned back to the cutting board, not wanting you of all people to see how stupid he must look right now. “Don’t be ridiculous, I was only making dinner so you don’t end up starving to death.”
It was hard to resist the impulse to say that acting in a domestic, wife-like way will certainly not make him any less enticing, but you already gave away an embarrassing amount of appreciation for his looks just now. And he would absolutely use that against you once he calms down from the fluster himself.
But that was a few days ago.
And your mind has been running since, even more so than before.
And you arrived at the conclusion that he would look really beautiful in a dress. Preferably a short one, his waist isn’t his only enticing feature.
Unrelated, but he does have the tendency to get more embarrassed than you do when you make a shameless request of him. It’s almost unfair, really, considering he’s terrible at saying no to you.
“Pretty, pretty pleeeeease?”, you ask for the n-th time this evening. His blush is rather apparent by now.
“I am NOT putting on that… that THING”, he insists, though the way his voice catches halfway through the sentence ruins any attempt at a dignified response. He’s standing here, stammering and stumbling over the prospect of wearing something that he knows will make you absolutely insufferable.
But he is firm in his decision to not put on a frilly pink dress.
That is so many layers below him.
You dangle the garment in front of him, so as to show off its aesthetics. “But Sweetheart, you would look so, so pretty in a dress”, you try to convince him sweetly, as if your blatant flattery will sway him. There’s no way.
“Not in this one”, he says, leaving no room for argument.
“Oh?”
You can’t help the cheeky grin that tugs at your lips, he should know better than to leave you an opening like that. “So you are open to the idea”, you point out.
“That is not what I said”, he protests, but the way his fingers twitch when he says that gives him away.
You both know he left the door open for a reason.
And you will jam your foot in there now that he’s backtracking out of embarrassment.
So you counter, “It is what you implied.”
…
There’s a beat of silence between the two of you.
He hates the fact that he loves you so much.
“Fine, just get this hideous thing out of my face”, he relents, gesturing at the frilly garment. You put it away without hesitation, not wanting to waste even a second before getting to dress your boyfriend all pretty and cute.
There’s so many clothes to dig through in your closet. Your original plan of putting him into the most offensively feminine dress you own might have failed, but the alternatives look equally appealing in your imagination.
He will look so delectable. Just the thought of what’s to come makes you wanna grab his waist and— that’s a thought for later, you need to pick out some gowns before he changes his mind.
The pile of dresses you gathered is not so large that it would scare him off, but varied enough to give you a handful of devastating sights to burn into your mind for all eternity. You throw the garments onto the bed with a soft huff as he eyes you carefully. He’s not fully convinced yet.
“You said ‘another one’”, he points out.
“I thought I’d give you options, since this is unknown territory for you”, you say softly, hoping to alleviate some of the awkwardness he feels right now. You do wanna see his waist in pretty dresses, but more than anything you want your lover to be comfortable.
A grin forms on your face as a thought makes itself comfortable in your mind, and you muse, “I won’t complain at all if you end up liking it enough to try on more though. If you want, that is.”
His brows twitch. You’re being too sweet, and the fact that you genuinely seem to delight at the idea of him in a dress of all things makes him feel helplessly flustered.
You give him a moment, before you tentatively gesture at the pile. “Your pick.”
Wanderer slowly walks up to the pile, searching for the least embarrassing dress to let you see him in. His eyes fall on a modest, ankle-length gown. He wonders whether you purposefully gave him a decent option or whether this dress accidentally made its way into your selection, but either way he found his pick.
He raises the dress and gives you a curious look, as to ask whether this one is acceptable.
You clasp your hands together in delight. “This one will look stunning on you”, you gush excitedly, your vivid imagination already generating way too many images of him in this dress.
It doesn’t have to be short to show off your favorite feature, after all.
Changing into the garment takes him suspiciously long, so after a while you decide to gently knock on the bathroom door— maybe he decided to back out, or he’s having trouble putting it on. Whatever it is, he’s taking his sweet time and you want to check on him just in case.
“Are you okay in there, Sweetheart?”, you ask curiously.
The sound of something rustling in the bathroom fills your ears. So he is wearing it right now.
“Need help closing it up?”, you offer, unsure whether this is actually the problem or it’s something else, ”I won’t mind, you do it for me all the time.”
More silence passes.
“You better not try escaping through the window”, you joke, trying to get some kind of response out of him. He’s too quiet.
“I look utterly ridiculous”, he finally says after another beat.
“It can’t possibly be that bad”, you reply, trying not to sound too eager, “I’m sure you look lovely.”
Because how could he look anything less than lovely when he is your beloved partner with such a pretty, heavenly waist?
He hesitates, before flatly saying, “It is that bad.”
The certainty in his voice almost makes you laugh. You’re not used to your lover fussing over a dress, it’s very cute though.
You decide he spent long enough time scrutinizing himself in the mirror, so you ask, “Can I see?”
You hear a shaky exhale.
Then the door opens a slit.
He peeks through the gap and you’re met with a slight glare. “If you laugh I am breaking up with you”, he declares, but his tone indicates that his threat is empty. Still, you will make a conscious effort not to tease him too badly.
You nod, and after a moment he fully opens the door, eyes searching anything but you.
And archons he looks adorable, way better than you imagined. So much so, that you fail to get out words for a solid few seconds. If it wasn’t obvious before that you’re absolutely in love with his pretty waist, it now is painfully so.
“You’re staring too much”, he says weakly, the fact that your gaze is affecting him a lot is abundantly clear.
He knows that you like it. Because of course you do.
And you know that he knows. Which makes his reaction so much more endearing.
“You look…”, you begin to say, but trail off. What words could possibly describe how devastating he looks right now? “You look stunning”, you eventually settle on, though the compliment feels painfully inadequate.
If you look anywhere near flushed as you feel right now, he will definitely be able to tell your thoughts, though.
“How are you that worked up over a dress this modest?”, he asks, his exasperated tone contradicting his flushed cheeks, “It doesn’t even fit properly.”
He grabs some of the loose fabric to prove his point.
You blink, and realize that he does have a point. The dress is a bit loose.
“I’ll get a safety pin”, you say a bit too hurriedly, running off before he gets the chance to interject.
A few seconds away from him should be enough to get your composure back. Probably.
---
“Found one!”, you declare, waving the safety pin in the air.
Before he can properly react, you’ve already slipped behind him to fix the loose fabric, earning a startled jolt from him that you have to bite back a laugh at.
He glares at you over his shoulder, cheeks reddened with a furious blush, “What are you—"
“I’m cinching your waist, Sweetheart”, you cut in eagerly, before teasingly adding, “I wanna accentuate your best feature after all~”
He doesn’t get the chance to reply before you pull at the dress without warning, trying your best to properly cinch him in. You did not miss the way he squirmed like a skittish cat, the way his shoulders rose and tensed under your touch.
“I’m done!”, you announce, patting his back gently.
He huffs quietly, then grumbles, “I’m done too.”
“Not even gonna do a little twirl for me?”, you ask whiningly. Now that the dress is firmly hugging his sides, it’s getting increasingly hard to take your eyes off of him. Oh how badly you want to place your hands there to watch him squirm even more than he is already doing right now.
“No”, he replies flatly, but no matter how hard he tries to seem annoyed and unbothered, the waver in his tone and dark flush on his face give him away.
“Pleeeeeease?”
He sighs in exasperation. The fact that he has to go out of his way to do that makes you smile, knowing that he’s about to give in to your little request.
Two twirls later and you’re absolutely over the moon. The way the dress swirls in the air around him is very addicting to watch, he almost looks like royalty with the long dress and dainty waist.
He really is your pretty princess.
“Done staring?”, he says, trying but failing to sound annoyed, “The least you could do is say something. At this rate you’ll lose all function by the time I’m out of this one.”
Subtly trying to ask for more praise now, are we? Might as well indulge your Sweetheart lover.
“It’s really nice that you don’t need air”, you muse, looking right into his eyes despite your own giddy feelings, “Made it so that I could bring out that pretty waist much more”
His mouth opens to form an equally blunt reply, but he can’t really form one. You’re too good at this, he hates it.
Instead, he redirects his gaze to the pile of dresses from earlier. The gears in his head are turning.
“This one hardly brings out anything”, he says. And he’s right. The dress may show off his delicate waist, but nothing beyond that. There’s not even a slit to let you peek at his thighs, for better or for worse.
What he just said did oddly sound like a hint, though.
A cheeky grin makes its way onto your face, you got him right where you want him. “Oh? Are you offering to wear another one?”
“Of course you would suggest something like that”, he says sharply, hesitating for another moment before continuing, ”Fine, I’ll indulge you. Pick your favorite.”
The way your eyes sparkled at that made him immediately regret his decision.
There’s so many options and they would all look beautiful on him, how are you even meant to pick? Do you pick the most indecent one? Do you go for a cute one instead? This is the hardest decision you had to make in a while.
“Is any of the dresses fine?”, you ask carefully.
He nods, and replies, “Any one aside from that pink atrocity from earlier”
“You sure?”
“Do your worst.”
Your grin widens more at that. He’s being strangely cooperative, not that you mind in the slightest.
Picking out a dress was a difficult feat, but not an impossible one. In the end, you settled for the shortest one you could find. Maybe the long one did make you want to see more of him, but who could blame someone for that when their boyfriend is this pretty?
“This one”, you say decisively, holding it up in front of him, “If that’s okay?”
The critical look on his face when he sees the dress already says it all. “You really want me to wear that?”, he asks reproachfully.
You nod earnestly, your voice sultry when you confirm, “I think you would look really, really, lovely in that.”
He averts his eyes instantly, unable to return your gaze when he feels this bothered by your words.
“Fine, I’ll wear it”, he says curtly before he quickly snatches the garment out of your hands and disappears into the bathroom.
He was hesitant to leave the bathroom earlier, but he is even more so now. The amount of coaxing it took for you to convince him to even peek out the door was considerable, but absolutely worth it when you saw the deepest blush on his face.
“Please Sweetheart, I wanna see how good you look”, you whine softly. This is your last attempt at coaxing him out of the bathroom, if he still refuses to show himself you’ll accept defeat.
A long sigh leaves him.
And then he fully opens the door.
And you see just how mouthwatering he looks.
Genuinely, you don’t think he’s ever looked this enticing before. The way his thighs look so soft that you can’t help wanting to squish them, the way his bare shoulders have an almost tantalizing effect on you, and above all, the way the dress hugs his seductively pretty waist so well that the urge to peel it off of him is painfully hard to resist.
“I can see where you’re staring, you know”, he mumbles in an attempt to sound irritated, but he falters midway through.
And archons, the shakiness in his legs makes you falter, too. It really is unfair.
“How am I meant to look away?”, you whine in embarrassment.
“You could try”, he suggests coyly, leaning into you a bit, “Though you’re making it rather difficult to pretend I regret this.”
Heat immediately rushes to your face. He caught on to how he makes you feel and now he’s trying to downright kill you.
A satisfied grin forms on his face, “Go ahead, Sweetheart, do you have nothing to say?”
Your hand shoots up to cover your crimson blush, but his words coaxed a muffled whine out of you regardless. “You look really good”, you mumble quietly.
“Oh, do I?”, he challenges, taking a step forward, “You sound uncertain.”
You instinctively take one back, “I’m not uncertain.”
“Then look at me when you say it”
You immediately look away.
He takes another step forward, and you fall backwards into the bed. When you open your eyes after the impact, he’s slowly crawling on top of you. He smiles down at you with the smuggest, most self-satisfied look you’ve seen on him yet.
You look down in an attempt to escape his gaze, but are met with the sight of his deliciously soft thighs, and the dress riding up around them, only amplifying the need you already feel.
“Someone’s bothered”, he points out.
“Someone’s awfully confident”, you counter despite yourself.
He yelps helplessly when he’s flipped over. Like hell you’ll let him take charge when his thighs are begging to be held.
a/n: this isn't a full chapter but I thought I'd give you a few streamer scara and reader texts because that's kinda fun
previous masterlist next
summary⎯ They’re an iconic faceless streaming duo, adored by the internet for their chaotic dynamic, featuring lots of jokes, bickering, and charm. A bag swap in the local library makes them slowly become friends in real life, oblivious to the fact they’re already inseparable online.
summary⎯ It starts with a note in philosophy lecture. They sit together once, then again. Now they’re texting, sharing notes, and maybe something else they won’t admit. Minor in philosophy, major in denial.
This was just a draft from when I was high, no guarantee I will keep it up!! If you like this or want more, feel free to leave a request
Scara loved the way you looked when you cried. It was his guiltiest pleasure.
He didn’t care what brought the tears to your eyes. Whether it was the overwhelming intensity of your private moments together or him simply being cruel for the sake of getting a reaction, the sight of your watery eyes and trembling lip stirred something dark inside him. It excited him in the most twisted, selfish way imaginable.
All of his friends knew about his strange fixation, though none of them ever said a word. They simply watched as he relentlessly picked on his poor, mentally ill girlfriend. They watched him tease you, mock you, and chip away at your composure until tears finally spilled over. Then, as if flipping a switch, he would soften. He would brush away your tears with surprising gentleness, pull you close against his chest, and soothe you while you buried your face into him, your tiny, shaky sniffles sounding almost too "adorable" to be real.
What they didn’t know was that you loved every second of it.
Only Scara knew the truth.
Your tears weren’t caused by the insults themselves. They came from the dizzying rush they stirred inside you the knot forming deep in your stomach, the heat blooming beneath your carefully put together coord, the thrill of surrendering to the emotions he so expertly pulled from you. Every carefully chosen word, every sharp remark, every taunt was calculated. He knew exactly which buttons to press, exactly how far he could push before your eyes glossed over and your breathing became uneven.
He had memorized every one of your reactions.
In public, he would casually smack your thigh whenever you ignored him or got a little too snarky. His palm always landed in the same spot, right over the fresh cuts hidden beneath your stockings. The sting made you flinch instantly, your breath catching in your throat as you fought to keep your composure.
He would simply look at you with that knowing smirk.
“What’s wrong?” he’d ask so innocently that anyone watching would believe he was genuinely concerned.
By then, your eyes would already be shimmering with unshed tears.
And just as they finally escaped, he would cup your face with unexpected tenderness, gently wiping each tear away with his thumb as though he hadn’t been the one to cause them in the first place. His touch was warm, almost affectionate, a stark contrast to the teasing that had pushed you to that point.
It was a cruel game the two of you understood far better than anyone else.
His friends only saw a heartless boyfriend making his girlfriend cry. They never realized that behind your watery eyes and quiet sniffles was an unspoken understanding known only to the two of you.
random post but I think post sumeru and nod krai aq Scara wouldn’t keep 100% of his feelings towards his crush to himself. As he becomes closer to others in and out the akademiya he’d be more open about his feelings. He wouldn’t be singing praises or creating sonnets but he would let a little “they’re so cute when…” or “they looked quite nice earlier” slip out every now and then and it would annoy his newfound friends all the same if he were obnoxiously singing your praises because of how much affection is so obviously stowed away in such little words.
They would hear the gentle intonation in his voice compared to his usual sharp and blunt way of speech, and even the slight up in pitch too. Not to mention just how fondly he looks at you from afar because I don’t think he would know exactly how to go about as strong of an emotion as love. So there he would be, sitting just a few rows behind you during lectures so he could steal glances while writing down his notes, or maybe even offer you help if he “happened to overhear you struggling” (he was actually listening the whole time). He may even brush some leaves or stray hair away if ever you two decide to review together outside, putting his hat on you if it starts to rain mentioning that he can’t get sick.
this turned into more of a yearning Scara post LOL
