Hello! My name is Natalie! I am 24 Years Old, my pronouns are she/they.
What I currently write for: If you haven’t guessed already, Genshin lol.
What I WILL write: Fluff, angst, Smut (to a certain extent),head-cannons, character x character depending on who and what it is. I will mainly write Character X Reader.
What I WILL NOT write: R*pe, Inc*st, anything dealing with a minor unless it’s Platonic. Anything that is tr*nsphobic or h*mophobic, or r*cist. (Please let me know if there is anything that should be included in this list. I put what I thought of while writing this).
How to Send a request: Send it to my ask box with a detailed description of what you want me to write, and what characters that you want to be featured.
Some General Rules: Please do not send anything hateful or something that is against my rules. You will be blocked instantly. Please do not be hateful towards each other and please respect my rules. (See my What I WILL NOT write list as they will be the same guidelines for my rules).
Disclaimer: Any characters that I write for besides original characters, I DO NOT OWN. Please do not copy any of my works without permission. This includes copying them in another language.
omg heya!!! I hope ure doing great!! Keep up the good work 🥹😇
do you think You can do Soft!scaramouche x reader
like imagine their friendgroup and them are camping in the beach, as night falls, everyone returns to the beach house. Scara and reader shares a bed in one of the guest rooms. Only light there is the moonlight and the living room led lights flashing in, from deep falls with each other, it becomes more sensual and romantic! It’s up to you how u want the rest to go!! This was just in my vision hehe
Under the moons light
AFAB! Reader x Soft! Scaramouche
CW: fluff to gentle smut, modern, Scara is called Kuni
Only the moons light shall be witness to his affection towards you.
A/N: Reader and Scara are implied romantically involved already
Not proofread.
Kuni is a man that never even thinks about taking a vacation, much less goes to a beach on his own accord.
He never understood the appeal of swinging in the sea and getting knocked around by waves of water.
So even as you and your friend group drag him along to go relax by the sand he just designates himself to watching over everyones stuff, sitting in the shade of an umbrella, away from sun and splashes.
All the noise, the bright beams, everything is annoying to him and yet he can't help but be thankful you pulled him away from stress for once.
Just watching you jump around in the cold wet without a care in the world has his shoulders less tense already.
Occasionally you join him on the towels, warming up a little and reapplying sunscreen, even asking him for help to get those hard to reach areas.
Rolling his eyes he'd snatch the bottle from you, complaining about the fact you have him do this but his words lack any bite or insult.
Not in a billion years would he admit it out loud but he has a soft spot for you specifically, seeing you so full of joy makes him happy and content in return, your smile is almost contagious.
That feeling alone is worth tolerating the overcrowded shore, it fades into the background more and more the longer he observes you have fun.
Your friends he couldn't care less about, his focus is entirely on you, usual sharp and cold gaze as soft as a feather, so busy being enamored by you he doesn't even notice the sky slowly turning dark.
The crowd thins more and more until little stars start decorating the horizon little by little.
Finally everyone retreats into the rented beach house, splitting up to shower, get the dirt and salt off their skin.
Everyone has to share their room with at least one person, he called dips on you immediately when he found out.
There's no way he'll share a bed with any of those other idiots.
Crawling under the sheets he shifts around until he's cozy, waiting for you to return from cleaning up.
Refreshed you finally come out of the bathroom, bundled in a fluffy robe, drenched hair clinging to your features as you finally sneak onto the mattress as well, flipping the switch on the way to turn any lamps off.
Walls are now only illuminated by the full moons shimmer falling in through the open window, the only sound heard is the ocean stirring outside, like a gentle lullaby.
Curtains sway back and forth from the slightest breeze, like dancing shadows.
A slight gap between the door and the threshold allows the slightest bit of man-made LED light to pass through into the tranquil atmosphere.
Seems the others are still chatting in the living room.
Having you so close, still radiating heat, he doesn't even realize he's subconsciously moving closer to you, rolling over to face you.
Your presence alone has always had a calming effect on him from the moment he met you, he can't explain why you're like soothing balm to his overactive nerves.
For the first time in years he's not bothered by the chaos of work or coworkers that constantly chew on his sanity, he's at peace, thoughts drifting senselessly.
Fingers make contact with his back through his shirt, drawing little circles and shapes, tracing dull edges as he shivers appreciatively.
Careful...you're always so careful with him, as if he'd break apart under too much pressure.
Drowsy he basks in your attention, claiming it solely for himself in this moment, he doesn't care if it's greedy, maybe selfish even.
His arms wrap around you as he moves you both, clinging to you until he maneuvers you onto your back, his head resting on your chest.
Your heart beats slow and steady below his ear, a rhythm that lulls him even further serenity, cheek squished against your torso in an attempt to get as close as possible.
Burying your face in his indigo strands you can't help but sigh, massaging at his shoulders and nape, squeezing, kneading until you're rewarded with a groan of satisfaction.
This is his safe haven, your embrace the only one he feels this protected in.
Rubbing against you like a cat begging for pets your robe eventually falls open from the friction, revealing the slightest bit of cleavage that he immediately presses against, desperate for even more contact.
Kisses get peppered across your skin, anywhere he can reach, from the swell of your breast across your sternum to your neck and jawline, little hickeys getting left on the path.
He's been hungry for you since he saw you in your swimwear, since he got to touch you when you needed help with sunscreen and having you beneath him like this only fuels him on more.
Hands tug more on the only cloth separating you from him, wanting as much access as possible, feeling even more needy now.
Finally letting the pesky fabric slip away his breath hitches at seeing you bare for him, he can't believe fate let him be this lucky.
Slotting himself between your legs you can definitely feel how much you're affecting him, no sentences need to be spoken out loud to make his want clear.
Kuni is aware they have to be quiet if he wants to spare you both from a whole lot of teasing, can't forget you and him aren't the only ones in this rented house.
Grinding his shorts against your naked cunt, slow and gentle, the tiniest shaky exhale leaves him, he can't believe the friction alone already feels enough to make him cum.
Trying so hard to be quiet he bites down on his lower lip, not daring to stop the movement of his hips when he sees the bliss spread across your face bit by bit the longer he keeps going.
How can you be so attractive, so beautiful that it makes him lose his mind just looking at you?
Hiding his face in your shoulder soft puffs of air dance across your sensitive flesh, he doesn't trust his arms to hold him up anymore, weight pressed against your form entirely.
Digits trail along your sides until they cup your chest, tugging and twisting at your nipples lovingly until you're squirming, your own fingers struggling to free him from his pants until he's gliding right through your folds.
The tip of his cock pokes against your clit every time he thrusts forward, sending jolts of pleasure through you and up your spine before finally sinking inside, filling you like you were craving him to.
Shuddering at the way your walls clench around him his pace is unhurried, taking his time to enjoy you thoroughly, almost worshipping you in the way he caresses you.
Over and over he hits that special little spot hidden deep with gentle rocks, making stars of ecstasy burst across your vision.
It doesn't take long for him to reach the edge, the combination of being all riled up all day and feeling you envelope him in tight heat makes him want to scream.
With one final ram he spills inside, teeth sinking into your shoulder in an attempt of staying silent, a small whimper forcing itself out his throat.
Absolutely spent from a whole day of doing nothing, a whole day of no worries he collapses onto you, the drowsiness getting the better of him.
Under the moons light you're both a tangled, tired mess that's going to regret leaving the curtains open when the sun shines into your face in the early morning hours.
But for now, in this moment, nothing but the two of you matters.
in which wanderer is a gentleman. wanderer x fem!reader. soft! wanderer. fluffy fluff fluff.
wanderer has been extra deep on thought lately. he knows he is lucky. really fucking lucky. you are so far out of his league that he isn't even playing the same game as you.
he is an experience to be around. he knows this. the entire akademiya knows this. pretty much all of teyvat knows this.
and yet, somehow, he manages to get himself a little wife. you do so much for him. and you don't ask for a thing in return (which baffled him for the longest time).
wanderer has grown increasingly worried that he doesn't do enough for you. in his anxiety, he took refuge in the library until later than usual lately. he checks out, and thoroughly reads every book the akademiya library has to offer about one subject.
the art of being a gentleman.
reading about it simple enough. being polite, opening doors, and the like. it's just finding situations to put these into practice that's hard for him. he isn't the best at expressing himself to begin with.
easier said than done is shoving itself down his throat more than usual. he doesn't want you to suddenly think he wasn't right for you.
then, it was like the heavens opened up for him when you say one day, "okay, i'm heading out to the store now. do you want me to pick you up anything special? coffee?"
wanderer's ear's prick like a cat's. "you are going out?" he won't admit it, but he always gets a little anxious when you say you are going out.
"mhm," you nod, smiling softly at him as you open your wallet to double check how much mora you have, "we need groceries for the week, and cat food. and i want to get ingredients to make your favorite eel and rice bowl. you have been working so hard on that paper lately."
wanderer reels for a second. what did he do to deserve you, damn it? he is really starting to consider what that strange boy from the temple of silence suggested to him one day. "you better lock that one down," is what he said. for someone who talks too much, sethos has a point.
"i am going with you," he picks the cat quietly sleeping in his lap up, and gently puts him down, "and leave your wallet here. i have money, i'll pay."
"really?" you ask, your eyes lighting up hearing he decided to come with you, "but you should keep your money for your research--"
"let's go," wanderer gently cuts you before you can protest anymore. he didn't want you to go out without him, not when he has had such a bad feeling since returning from nod krai. he still feels like he has a chip on his shoulders...
"okay, it will be really nice to have your company," you hook your arm through his when wanderer extends it to you.
wanderer mentally purrs seeing you cling to his arm like that. he gives himself two gentleman points, as far as he is concerned, he is a on a roll so far.
he stays close to you while you are at the market stalls. he keeps looking around for threats, anyone watching you. he also notices the ones that look too hard at you, those leave a bad taste in his mouth.
he glares at another man walking right up with his eyes fixed on you. keep walking buddy, she's taken sears into the other man, stopping him right in his tracks, and making him turn around and walk the other way.
after you finish at one stall, he promptly takes the bags from you. "i'll carry these," he gently plucks the bags from your fingers.
"my, my, what a gentleman," you tilt your head up, giving him a soft kiss on the lips. wanderer looks away as his cheeks heat, his vision on his chest lighting up.
he gives himself ten, no twenty gentlemen points for that. you even told him specifically he is being a gentleman. big win.
as you start walking again, life just suddenly gives him another shining opportunity. you have to walk next to a road to get the stall you prefer that sells sea food.
wanderer walks next to you, closest to the road with his arm around you. you would be out of the way of any oncoming traffic from people or sumpter beasts passing by.
he didn't even read this move in a text book either. he'd seen an elderly man do this with his wife while they were walking together. to him, that is the most pure hearted act of gentleman kindness he had ever seen.
he gives himself ten thousand points, and then twenty more for the way you smile at him.
---
DO NOT plagiarize/translate/repost on tumblr or any other site without my permission.
There's this Big Thing about Wanderer wanting a "heart," so here's a little something:
Wanderer x Healer!Reader (but it's mostly Reader-Durin bounding)
Reader is implied to be a creature/immortal + Durin because he has to be here.
This was meant to be a bit fucked up in a fluffy way but turns out I'm not good enough to pull off this kind of stuff yet, so have whatever this is.
Author's notes: This is so freaking old and probably not even my style anymore. Also, it is written pre Durin realease, so he might be a bit ooc.
When the little dragon first gained a human form, he didn't know what to do with it. Clumsily stumbling with legs he never had to use before and bumping his too long arms on every possible surface as he forgets sometimes that they even exist.
In order for him to get accustomed to this new body, you suggested that he pick up a few hobbies. It ends up helping him more than you thought it would, and after he regains control over his limbs, Durin abandons most of them. (He's a human now, he has to do Normal Human Things like studying or picking up a craft so he can do Grown Up Things in the future!)
However there's one hobby that he decided to keep; —mainly because he enjoys it way too much it would damper his mood greatly to just abandon it— crocheting.
When Durin finds out Wanderer's birthday is quickly approaching, he gets the brightest idea of using his hard earned skill to make him a handmade gift.
"A heart!" He shouts enthusiastically as you take him shopping for the high-quality yearn you insisted on getting for this particular project.
"Oh." You recall seeing gravely ill patients that stay overnight for extra treatment getting a lot of letters and balloons from loved ones with these weird little red shapes they call "hearts" all over them. "Isn't that a bit too... basic?"
"It is?" He turns towards you from where he is comparing two different shades of red yearn, head tilting in that cute way he does when faced with confusion. "But it looked so complicated when I saw it in your book!"
What boo— oh. "Ohhh..." So, that's the kind of heart he is talking about.
Yeah, you think, you can pull this one off.
Fast forward to where you are now, drawing a detailed diagram for what a functioning human heart should look like from various angles. Going as far as to add real-life measures of how big a heart someone Wanderer's size should have.
Earlier that day, Durin managed to convince Wanderer to take him to Port Ormos to provide a distraction while you do your thing. Your excuse for not coming along is that a patient of yours has shown signs of a rare illness and you need to dig into your dusty old scrolls in case you mistook it for something else. (Technically, you're not lying. Someone did show up with an unusual malady, it's just that you've been on the job for too long cases like these aren't really that much of a hassle for you.)
You sigh as you guide your brush to do one final stroke, noting that they might return soon from their —hopefully fruitful— venture.
The giant piece of paper, you decide, goes into Durin's room, as it is the one place Wanderer doesn't wander into without strict permission from said dragon boy. Not to mention that he will need it to complete his part of this mini project.
Your estimation for the duo's return turns out to be correct, seeing that you can hear Durin's enthusiastic chattering a street away. Most likely done on purpose to provide a warning for you. That little rascal is smarter than what people assume him to be.
When they step foot into the house, Durin attempts to remove himself from the room by yawning to fake tiredness, which is a major fuck up on his part, because Durin is never tired.
Luckily, you step in to cover for his mistake before Wanderer could suspect that anything is amiss. Draping yourself on his back with enough force to make his focus shift into you, followed with a hand trailing down his side so gently in that way you know it physically burns him.
He stiffens, but doesn't turn around to face you.
"Durin, why don't you head to your room now, hm? Get that well-deserved rest after a whole day of running around?" Your voice is honey sweet, and Durin doesn't know what does that particular tone mean yet, but he knows it makes Hat-Guy fidgety and weird. So, he takes advantage of the opportunity you so graciously gave him to hurry into his room and closes it shut, wanting to finish the birthday gift, and at the same time, stay away from your evil witch magic.
Hat-Guy is strong (the strongest!), he can handle himself.
(Total fucking bullshit. He is so weak to you it scares the shit out of him, but he's already too attached to ever consider leaving you an option.)
"The hell do you think you're doing?" He asks, slowly and cautiously, like prey trying to distract its predator for long enough to find an escape.
"You've been spending too much time away from home lately. I think I'm starting to feel lonely..." You drag out your words as you drop your full weight onto him.
Wanderer frowns, head tilting to meet your gaze from the awkward angle your insistent clinging has created. "You are... physically incapable of feeling lonely."
A dramatic sigh escapes your lips, like one of those neglected housewives whose husbands are too busy cheating on them to give them the attention they seek. "Life is becoming too repetitive, and the one person I find interesting isn't around to make it any better. Isn't that what humans call loneliness?"
"That's not loneliness. It's called boredom." He shakes his head at your hopelessness, tone sharp in an almost scolding kind of way. His actions, however, constrasts greatly with his voice as he gently pushes you off his back to hold your hand. "Never mind, I know your dumbass probably didn't eat anything yet. We can have dinner out."
You follow his footsteps, pleased to know that you still have this kind of effect on him. Or maybe you feel content because you do miss him. If only a little.
—
Wanderer isn't one for big parties and festive atmosphere, however, he cannot do much to stop the Dendro Archon from pre-planing a "fun" trip with some of his more outgoing colleagues under the guise of research to celebrate his birthday.
Unfortunately for him, neither you nor Durin can join in on the party, as you are a graduate from a different Darshan and can't serve as a guide to this little expedition, while Durin is considered too young by the Academia laws to be messing around while important stuff are getting done.
(Somehow that Sethos guy manages to tail them all the way and stick to Wanderer's side without anyone else even noticing. Which is very disrespectful, by the way, that's your man, he can get his own.)
It is until the sun hid behind the mountains and the moonlight broke throught the foliage that he came back, and you were finally able to present him with his "heart."
Wanderer doesn't say anything as he accepts the absurdly realistic crocheted heart presented to him by one enthusiastic Durin, who waits for his reaction expectantly with a bright pair of pink eyes.
Faced with the emotionally charged stare of the dragon boy, Wanderer averts his eyes to glance curiously at your sitting form. A question that he already knows the answer to dancing in his eyes.
"Were you involved in this?"
You don't reply to his silent query, busying yourself with pouring him a cup of that disgustingly bitter tea he likes so much. "Happy birthday, Kuni."
Following your example, Durin takes back Wanderer's attention by loudly shouting. "Happy birthday, Hat-Guy!"
The puppet's lips flatten as he holds the plushy to himself in a way almost akin to cradling, his free hand lowering his hat to cover his eyes as he mutters in a voice so soft you would've not heard it were you not paying too much attention to every minuscule action of his. "It's meaningless. You shouldn't have bothred."
"It's the kid's idea. Maybe you should tell that to him."
You hum, presenting him a cup of that poison tea as a peace offering.
His eyes trail from your form to the bright-eyed Durin to your form again before begrudgingly accepting the brew.
saying wanderer is "not the type to fall in love" goes against the laws of his existence.
wanderer's whole story revolves around how he has too much emotion, and how he feels too much.
he is doomed to fall in love.
he will deny it, over and over and over again. but he will be plagued by the feeling no matter what. Its like his very own curse. he will forever ache until he fully accepts that he's in love and has to go about his round about way of confessing it or just simply acknowledging it within himself.
but he is definitely be the type to fall in love.
It doesnt even have to be someone important or special, it could literally be a random in the akademiya that caught his eye one day bc they were being gentle with the birds outside - but i definitely see him falling for someone.
he wont say it or show it, but trust, it will kill him inside if he doesn't.
wanderer feels love just as hes felt heartbreak after each of his betrayals. though he doesnt want to fall in love in spite of his past, he will.
Made this for his birthday in like 30 mins… hope you all enjoy :)
—————————————————————————
“I don’t see the point in this.”
“You don’t see the point in anything that celebrates you.” You retort with a calm collected smile plastered on your face.
He groaned rather softly, scoffing at your obsession over his birthday. You were gently squeezing a piping bag filled with a light blue cream cheese frosting. Nothing too extravagant, you knew he hated anything too lavish. He also opposed the idea of receiving a cake, but caved when Durin practically pleaded with him to accept it.
“Because it’s unnecessary.” He complained again, simultaneously watching you work.
“Birthdays are not ‘unnecessary.’” You mocked him. “It’s a celebration well deserved since you lived another year.” You smile. “You’ve got me, Durin, Paimon, and the Traveler. I agreed to keep the celebration as small as possible.”
He rolls his eyes, sitting across from you and resting his head in his hand. It almost appeared like he was tired.
“Is it really that bad?” You asked. “Shimi Chazuke with your favorite people?”
He gently shakes his head after a few moments, sighing more softly as if he finally found peace with the idea. You took the finished cake and gently slid it over to him on the table while walking in that direction.
“Surprise.” You say with a jaunty smile.
He sat upright.
“I know you’re not a fan of sweet things…so I created an espresso cake.” You stated as he looked up at you with an expression that screamed, “what?”
“It’s like… dark chocolate with notes of coffee. Bitter enough for you, sweet enough for Durin to enjoy without a grimace.” You explained awkwardly as he took a fork beside him suddenly and stabbed it into the cake, shocking you as he tried it.
“Well that’s new.” You simply said, amused by his actions of refusing to wait until the other three arrived. He definitely wasn’t a traditional person.
“It’s great.” He said, so monotone that you didn’t believe him at first, until he started eating it further. One bite, another soon after.
“Thank you but—we still have guests coming—“ You tried moving the cake but he grabbed your forearm with his free hand, pushing you away with no effort whatsoever.
“Hey!” You warned as he ate with great tranquility, a smirk on his face.
“Durin does not care if I eat over this, and neither do you.” He stated plainly as a reminder.
“What about the traveler and Paimon?” You pressed with curiosity about his response to the two.
“There’s an untouched side.”
You stare dumbfounded.
“Is it really that good?” You asked in amusement while he continued to devour the cake as if it were the best thing he tasted.
He simply nodded, tastebuds overwhelmed by the duo flavors.
After the gathering was finished, you two were left with Durin finishing off a cake slice, then falling asleep on the sofa, tail wrapped around himself.
The Wanderer took a spare blanket from within the closet and draped it over him, whilst you packed up the cake leftovers.
You two sat on the opposite side of Durin, wrapped in a shared blanket.
“See? Not so bad, right?” You yawned, your head rested against his chest.
He was silent, then gave a defeated sigh. Preparing the small gathering for him must’ve exhausted you.
“Go to sleep.” He stated and stroked your hair, watching you succumb to slumber.
You said something offhandedly, he gave you a sarcastic remark to gently poke fun at you. Nothing harsh, nothing cutting, like so many of his other words.
No, he’d never direct any actual bitterness at you. Though, others might not be able to tell the slight difference in tone when he talks to you. And the way his choice of words becomes a lot more forgiving. Not that they matter anyways.
You don’t miss the teasing glint in his eyes, the slight raise of the corner of his mouth. He knows what he’s doing, always having found amusement in poking and prodding at people to provoke a reaction.
So you do the obvious and swiftly swipe the pillow on his lap – that his book he is currently reading was laying on, oh, how handsome he looks when he’s completely absorbed in it– away from him, to smack him in the face with it. Lovingly, of course.
The plush hits his face with a soft thump, muffling the startled noise he made. The way it lands right back on his lap is almost comical. There’s a short pause, and you can practically hear his mind debating whether he should let out an exaggerated exhale and drop it or whether he should strike back.
After having stared into the wall with a deadpan for a few seconds, he seems to have decided.
“Really? That’s your move?”, he asks flatly, but you don’t miss the way his hand gently puts the book away. Minimising collateral damage of what’s to come.
You so saw this coming, and yet, the pillow being thrown your way startles you. You duck, barely dodging the ferocious attack that none other than your precious lover launched.
There’s no option other than retaliation.
Next thing you know, you find yourself pinned on the ground beneath the wanderer. He had given you a false sense of security right before he bested you, having pretended to be oh so weak with his wrists under your grasp. Of course you know that your boyfriend is much stronger than you, and still you gawked in disbelief when he easily freed himself from your grip and turned the situation right back at you.
“My, my, are you struggling?”, he muses condescendingly, looking far too satisfied with himself. And still, the look on his face is too endearing, the proud glint in his eyes, the smug grin, the way he inches closer and closer. “I’d almost call it cute, if you didn’t heinously ambush me”, he adds, letting out a dramatic sigh.
“Oh, please. I went easy on you”, you retort, making a show of threateningly leaning closer too, the playful grin on your face contradicting your actions.
“Ha, easy?”, he snorts, clearly in disbelief of your words. “Last chance to surrender”, he says in a singsongy voice. No outsider would ever believe you if you ever told them about this.
Right as you were about to shoot back a witty reply again, you hear a sudden gasp. Both of you turn your heads to its source, which is a very confused and mildly concerned looking Durin at the door.
Wanderer immediately backs off, looking like a startled cat. You instantly shift your attention to Durin, “Hey, you okay there?”
He looks even more puzzled, tilting his head to the side. “Wasn’t Hat Guy about to…”, he trails off.
You blink, thinking for a second before it clicks in your head. “Ohhh, that’s what you– You misunderstood! He’d never actually threaten me, Durin. We were just… playfighting?”, you correct his assumption, unsure of how to explain what he just witnessed.
Apparently it didn’t clear up anything, as Durin’s eyes widened in curiosity. “What’s playfighting?”, he asks innocently.
Wanderer looks like he wants to die on the spot, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a loud sigh.
Sensing the very slight, totally almost unnoticeable embarrassment on his end, you take it upon yourself to explain the concept of playfighting to Durin, letting your boyfriend give a tiny nod of approval at the end of your explanation.
Durin listens intently and concludes that it’s another weird human custom he hasn’t learned about yet.
To further ease your lovers headache that this must’ve caused him, you take Durin’s hand and try to change the topic. “How about we go and draw something nice? Come on, Hat Guy, join us. You have skilled hands, righhhht?” You can’t help the slight teasing.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
A few days have passed since that incident and you didn't think much more of it. Right now, you're in the kitchen, preparing lunch for the three of you. The pan sizzles, the chicken looking mouthwatering, if you say so yourself, prepared just how Durin likes it.
You hum a soft tune, taking a sip from your coffee. You're not really a morning person. Or a noon person either.
A soft patting on the floor distracts you, Durin sure is an energetic dragon. The kitchen door slams open with a slight creak and he looks at you with a determined and serious look, his wings slightly raised in preparation. Just what is he up to?
You don't have any time to ponder or dwell on it as he charges right at you, letting out a loud gruff when he tackles you to the ground with a heavy thud. You drop the wooden spoon you were holding, he almost tipped the pan with the burning hot oil over.
You rub your hip and groan quietly. Before even get to turn to Durin and ask what this is all about, he gets swooped right off of you.
Wanderer is holding him by the collar– careful to not be too rough– and reprimanding him. "What do you think you're doing? Surely you know that attempted murder is a crime", he scolds the dragon, who looks pitifully guilty and confused.
Durin tries to open his mouth to reply, but your boyfriend is faster, now crouching down besides you and checking your head for tender spots. "You okay? You didn't hit your head, right?", he asks hastily, concern taking over.
"I'm... fine", you reassure gently. Looking at his unconvinced expression, you add, "I landed on my hip. Just glad he didn't knock over the pan."
This seems to calm him down a bit, which allows you to worry about your very confused assailant.
"I assume I didn't do this playfighting thing right?", he mutters, eyes downcast. At least that memo landed. You can't help but snort a little though, this is amusing.
Patting his head gently, you confirm, "Not... exactly. You're meant to hold back."
"Yeah, it's called playfighting, not playkilling", Wanderer adds unceremoniously. Still, his tone sounds more relieved than upset.
Durin's guilty look is too pitiful to look at. You pull him into a hug, softly telling him it's okay and that he didn't mean to be so rough. He keeps mumbling apologies and promises to be more careful in the future.
Your boyfriend, in the meantime, took it upon himself to plate your carefully prepared lunch onto three plates, setting them onto the kitchen table.
“It’s fine,” he sighs, pushing a plate toward Durin, who just sat down together with you. “Just… try not to knock anyone unconscious before lunch.”
in which he still feels the hurt from an argument earlier that day while he's following his routine
Note: might be ooc, but in my head wanderer is emotional, but just very good at hiding it. This one is kinda about that mask slipping so don't read that if it bothers you :)
Masterlist
The kettle hisses softly, rising steam curling delicately in the dim kitchen light. Two porcelain cups sit on the kitchen table by the window. One for him, one for you. When he pours boiling water over the tea bag inside the ornate teapot, a gentle heat rises from it to envelop his hands– a small comfort in the argument’s aftermath.
His movements are almost automatic, the routine engraved deeply into his muscle memory. The way he always picks out the same two cups, the way he always waits exactly eight minutes for the tea to steep. Green tea. It used to be black tea, once– dark, bitter, the kind of flavour he likes. But he’s since learned that you prefer something softer, less biting. So it’s green tea now. And even now, as the heavy air from the earlier dispute weighs down on his chest, he reached for the green tea.
It was a petty argument. An argument that shouldn’t have taken place the way it did. The words that were sharper than necessary replay in his mind while he waits for the tea to properly steep, his jaw more tense than usual, the room feeling colder somehow. It makes every step of his sacred evening ritual feel slightly off. The change isn’t welcome.
The eight minutes have passed. He absentmindedly pours the hot beverage into both cups out of habit, placing the container of sugar on the table for you, before sitting down. He always does this. Routine is everything, and you always sit across from him.
But the chair opposite remains empty.
He lets out a long sigh. The silence is deafening. It’s so quiet he can hear everything, he can hear the wind brushing past the trees outside, the clock ticking behind him, the faint hum of the pipes. All sounds feel amplified, it feels too loud. Too loud, taking up the space where your voice should be.
His fingers trace the rim of his cup, trying to hold on to more than just porcelain. The curve of the cup feels familiar, and familiarity feels safe. Yet, his breathing isn’t even, his grip on the cup isn’t steady.
His eyes fall on the second cup. Two cups. For two people. One of them missing.
Now, sitting alone when he shouldn’t be, he feels it really set in. The hurt, sharp and bitter and paralysing. His lips thin into a thin line, a small, uncharacteristic ache beginning to prickle behind his eyes, blurring the cups of tea into a wet blotch.
His thoughts are interrupted by a pair of faint footsteps, patting down the hall. His hands tighten around his cup, he inhales sharply, trying to blink away the emotion. You can’t see him like this– the last time he was caught with wet eyes…
He flinches when the door creaks open. The sound of you uttering his name makes his heart skip, even in a situation like this, even when he’d rather be anywhere else than in your field of vision right now. The sight of him must be pathetic right now.
He freezes when he’s snapped out of his thoughts by your arms gently wrapping around him. He leans in instantly, letting the tension seep out. Your soft apology, all sweet and genuine, brushes against his ear. “I’m sorry for missing tea”, you whisper remorsefully, careful to not break the silence too suddenly, before adding, “I didn’t realise how important this was to you.” He just presses further into your chest, letting your words soothe the sting. If you feel the dampness gathering on your top, you don’t mention it. You stay like that for a moment, letting him breathe in the familiar scent, running your fingers through his hair. After a while you say, “If you want… we can still drink tea together.” And somehow, that’s all it took for it to feel okay again.
“your bones are arranged in such aesthetically pleasing structure, i do not think i could rearrange it to make it any better.”
“… what?”
has your boyfriend been tainted by abyssal corruption? you reach up— it takes a significant effort to hold yourself back from chuckling when you see him immediately lean down in response, expecting headpats like a poor, touch-starved dog— and your hand lands on his forehead.
cold.
perfectly normal, then.
“your hands are very soft and warm, as always,” he hums, leaning onto your palm with a contented hum, “i have always enjoyed the feeling of them carrying me in my lantern form. perhaps the sense of safety is what a kitten feels when they are being carried by their scruff by their mother cat.”
“that’s an adorable analogy, but seriously, what's going on? are you drunk?” you snort and gave him a chaste peck on his lips. hm. nope, no scent of wine.
kyryll smiles. you blink and try to push the flowering blooms away from the edges of your vision. stop that, my mad(ly in love) brain.
“on your love? indeed, it seems i am.”
ah, you roll your eyes in full understanding, your adorable fairy was just trying to flirt. again.
Stationery, lip balm, keys to your apartment; stuff of that nature. Then there’s your personal favorite, a wallet embroidered with dandelions — your hometown’s flower — into the fabric. It’d been sent to you without a return address on your birthday, shrouding the gifter in mystery. All of these items accompany you on a day-to-day basis.
That aside, this list has another unifying factor. Each object is inert. Completely still. Incapable of moving without an outside force. Now, this isn’t a revelation that’ll shift society and be recorded in history books for generations to come. It’s common sense. A concept children grasp before they even know what ‘gravity’ is.
As for why you’re taking a lengthy mental inventory of your belongings…
Well.
Something in there is moving. Rustling about, the vague outline of its body pressing against the aged leather.
Your response is slow. Cautious. You begin by pushing yourself away from your desk, creating distance between you and this potential threat. The Vision fastened along your waistband thrums, ready to act. Numerous theories whir around your mind like a sandstorm. Is this a prank in poor taste? Cyno had mentioned an investigation into scarabs being placed in student’s bags, although nothing serious had come from it. Maybe it’s a gadget or some elemental reaction—
—Your cognition grinds to a halt when a head pokes out, undoing the bag’s clasp in the process.
…
…
…
“Oh!” The creature exclaims while freeing itself. “Um… hi!”
The room’s natural lighting gives you a better idea of the creature’s appearance. Its wings keep it suspended midair, each enthusiastic flap scattering your notes. Large, doe-like eyes consider you, gleaming with childlike curiosity. If not for the prominent horns atop its head, you might think it’s a bat, but that classification doesn’t quite fit.
Whatever it is, you sense no hostility.
“Hello,” is your hesitant reply.
It looks around, fixating on the items displaced from your desk.
“Ack, I’m sorry,” it apologizes. It lands carefully on your desk and lowers its head, as if ashamed. “I didn’t mean to make such a mess… I’ve just been excited to meet you.”
“Don’t worry, this is nothing. I’ve been meaning to reorganize my stuff, anyway.”
For some reason, you can’t find it within you to fault this seemingly well-meaning yet clumsy guest. Its naivete is reminiscent of a certain explosion-obsessed girl from back home. In truth, this entire ordeal doesn’t even breach the top five strangest experiences you’ve had in recent times.
… Alright, perhaps it’s a contender for the fourth slot.
Suddenly, your guest straightens up. “Wait! I haven’t introduced myself yet. We can’t be friends if I haven’t introduced myself… you can call me Mini Durin. And I already know your name. You’re [First].”
“Yeah, that’d be me,” you cover a budding smile with your hand, not wanting your giddy guest to mistake it for mockery. “So, Mini Durin… you said you’ve been wanting to meet me? Why’s that?”
Mini Durin ambles his way toward the edge of your desk.
“You’re important to my first friend,” he declares. “At least I think so. He only has the nicest things to say about you, like how you’re not ‘as insufferable as most,’ and that ‘your presence is tolerable.’”
That’s what Mini Durin considers ‘the nicest things’ to say about someone…?!
The conviction with which he speaks affirms his sincerity.
“It sounds like you trust this friend a great deal.”
Mini Durin nods. “I do. That’s how I ended up in your bag… I got separated from him earlier. Luckily, I spotted you. I knew you’d keep me safe. And now we even get to be friends!”
That explains why your bag felt heavier coming home than when you left.
“You got separated from him?” Frowning, you scoot your chair closer. “Where at? We can go looking for him, if you want. He must be worried.”
“Oh. I didn’t think about that.”
Mini Durin mulls over your offer for a few seconds, adding, “What if he’s mad at me? He was working hard on another gift for you, but I went and distracted him.”
“Friends can sort stuff like this out,” you reassure. Then, a pause. “Huh. Did you say ‘another gift?’”
Mini Durin tilts his head. “You didn’t know? The pretty flowers on your—”
A rapid knock on your door cuts him off.
You both turn your attention toward the booming sound. Huffing, you cross your arms over your chest. It’s late in the evening, who in their right mind would treat your front door like a drum? You shoot your unexpected guest an apologetic look, promising a swift return.
Some choice words sizzle on your tongue as you swing the door open, only to be met by an equally irate figure.
Your eccentric classmate, the Wanderer, stands before you. There’s a slight flush to his cheeks like he’s been physically exerting himself. The telltale sign of Anemo settles down around him, his hat reappearing in the process. He soon mirrors your exasperated posture, one hand on his hip, the other readjusting the brim of his hat.
“I could’ve flown to Inazuma and back in the time it took you to answer,” is the courteous greeting he goes for.
“Hello to you too,” you greet. “Was there something you needed? Or are you just making your debut as a percussionist known to the entire nation?”
He rolls his eyes. “Of course there’s something I ‘need’, genius.”
“And what would that be?”
“I’m looking for a small, talking dragon,” the Wanderer deadpans. “Ring any bells?”
You blink. “Are you referring to Mini Durin?”
“Just how many dragons are you acquainted with?”
“I mean, I am from Mondstadt,” you shrug. A realization then creeps up on you. “Hold on. Does that make you this ‘first friend’ I’ve heard so much about?”
The Wanderer freezes. You observe as he processes this information in real-time, along with the implications that come with it. Though his muscles are tense, he keeps his visage impassive. The occasional twitch of his eye is the only detail betraying his panic.
“... On second thought, you can keep him.”
He swivels on his heel to make a hasty retreat.
You lurch forward without thinking, your hand latching around his wrist. He snaps his head around to meet your gaze, almost knocking you over with his hat in the process. A well-timed dodge protects you from the potential headache. In the light of the setting sun, the Wanderer’s porcelain complexion is dyed in crimson hues. Though he’s maintaining eye contact, something tells you it’s a struggle.
“Hey,” you use your free hand to poke his flushed cheeks, to which he grimaces and bats at it like a cat. “Come inside. I’ll make up some of that awful, bitter tasting tea you like.”
He inhales through his teeth, likely weighing various excuses. You bat your eyelashes and offer your brightest smile. As the seconds pass by, you can feel his resolve weakening. With a scoff, he frees himself from your grasp, the ease in which he does so confirming he’d been your willing hostage.
The Wanderer wordlessly strolls past you and into your home.
In terms of comfort ideas, might I request something with Kazhua? His voice is so soothing and I’d love to make him laugh!
Literally no pressure tho! I’m tired asf of the politics today T-T
Kazuha x reader (comfort)
It was late at night as you lay in Kazuha’s arms staring up at the sky. You suggested stargazing outside since it was the beginning of spring and your lover loved the warm light wind that carried the sounds of the waves. The moon was slowly creeping up to its peak and you both were pointing out constellations when the samurai was quiet. “This scenery is wonderful... Surely enough to convince anyone to become a wanderer.” he said softly in his comforting and soothing voice that you loved so dearly. You hummed in agreement and cuddled close, laying your head against his chest and intertwining your hands together.
The silence was peaceful, and you looked up at the moon, its bright glow casting shadows and causing the shine on both of your visions. Your mind pieced together a haiku or short poem, even if it wasn’t as good as Kazuha’s, but you were sure he would appreciate the effort.“ One thought in young hearts. One full moon in the night sky. Lovers become one.” You whispered and lifted your head to look at him with a joyful smile. He met your eyes and smiled in return, laughing softly and cupping your face. “Indeed, my love. A wonderful haiku, just as marvelous as you. Just like the stars in the sky, my love for you will always be eternal and bright.” he said tenderly and kissed you sweetly.
hiiii! hope you've been doing well and having a good christmas season time!!!💞
not sure if you're comfortable with writing this or not but what about wanderer with a s/o who gets overwhelmed and cries very easily during that time of the month? i just really need some fluffy fluff and you're the best at writing it 🥹
wanderer (scaramouche) x fem!reader. fluffy fluff fluff. period woes. comfort. soft scara
aww merry christmas and happy holidays to you and everyone around the world❤️ i cry very easily during that dreaded time 😭
before this happened, wanderer didn't know he would be thanking himself for having incredible foresight to buy one specific thing for you.
ah, your period. wanderer knew he wouldn't quite fully understand the monster (as he liked to call it) that was your period. he hates that he can't just purge it like he could unruly slimes screwing around too close to sumeru city.
wanderer is frozen with wide eyes. there you are, sniffling and crying with a closed light novel in your lap. he'd in a way sensed when your time of the month is coming, but it still gave him whiplash how the symptoms could suddenly rear their ugly heads at any given moment.
he couldn't imagine what it did to you.
your period also genuinely freaks him out. you are bleeding all the time, therefore you are dying. and you are always in so much pain that it hindered even your movements at times.
"why are doing that nonsense?" wanderer bristled, taking your hands off your face so you would look at him. "stop it," he hates seeing you cry. hates it. he can barely handle it.
"bu-but, the main character died at the end," your words wobbled as you sniffled, uselessly brushing tears away only for more to fall from your eyes.
"did you really like the main character that much?" he asked, glancing down at the light novel in your lap. "what was so great about him?" he was going to try and get to the bottom of this, even if he wasn't the best at expressing himself sometimes. he knew he ran the risk of sounding like an insensitive asshole and making things worse.
"no, not particularly. it's just.." you sniffled again, trailing off as your lower lip trembled.
"hm?" wanderer knew he absolutely had to be delicate in approaching this. please, just tell him how to fix it. it's always hard on him seeing you cry.
"his dog must be so lonely now. the main character promised he would come back, and animals have feelings too. i can't imagine the lonely sadness his poor doggo felt realizing his owner, who cared for him since he was a puppy, wasn't coming back," you are crying more tears now. "the main character is an only child, and his parents are dead. who would take his dog and care for him and love him now? it's just so sad," the words came tumbling out of your mouth.
you buried your face in your hands again, and wanderer let you. he knew you didn't like him seeing you cry.
as wanderer slowly processed what you said, he suddenly knew exactly what to do. he immediately turned and strode to his little hidey spot for gifts he'd gotten you. this one in particular was originally to make up for him being an asshole to you earlier in the week. who knew it would come in handy double like this.
you felt something tap the top of your head. "why don't you ask him yourself? he's right here," you opened your eyes to see wanderer holding a soft, plush dog that looked incredibly similar to the dog you are crying about in your book.
"aw, scara he is so cute," you cooed, taking the plush from him and putting it's nose against yours for a moment. wanderer is incredibly relieved that you instantly stopped crying.
"there, now he isn't going to be lonely or sad. see? he looks happy already," wanderer couldn't believe he was referring to an inanimate object like it was actually alive.
but it sure made you smile.
"he can keep you company while i run out and get some things for you. you need a new heating pad, right?" he hated how hooded your eyes looked from being in pain from cramps and body aches. he was already making a checklist in his head. pads, a heating pad. disgusting chocolate, both kinds.
"i can go with you," you started to get up.
"no. no, just stay where you are," he abruptly held up a hand to stop you from getting up. he could tell it hurt you to even move. he wasn't going to have that. he glared at you a little when you opened your mouth to protest.
sighing, he looked down at the stuffed dog in your lap as he grabbed a blanket to put around you. you would be in less pain while he was gone if you were warm. the concept of heating pads taught him that. "ask the mutt to hold down the fort for me," he knew he sounded incredibly silly, but it was worth it to him to see you smile softly up at him and nod.
before he left, you gave him a quick kiss. "thank you, scara. i love him, he is so cute. you are the absolute best," wanderer's vision on his chest lit up.
★ soft!lover!wanderer x shy!reader requested by @dobadoo
★ I don't actually remember the specific request that was sent in, but the reader was supposed to be more innocent and naive with scaramouche being more cold and distant, so hopefully I got that right lmaoo enjoy!
★ disclaimer: you and wanderer are in an established relationship and there's definitely a lot of physical touch, Wanderer's also more of a soft yandere here.
A gift from the heavens, an angel amidst lowlives, perhaps even a miracle, was his precious flower. He couldn’t help but admire the way rays of morning sunlight danced over the slopes and curves of your body as you slept. If only his creator had installed a lens inside his eyes that’d allow him to photograph this moment, bury it somewhere deep inside him beside the remnants of his past selves. And to think other people would’ve been able to see you like this had he not sunk his claws into your heart first and foremost…no, no that wouldn’t do.
Luckily, you stirred before your lover could conjure yet another fictional scenario to get angry over. “Go back to sleep, flower.” Wanderer murmured, the tips of his ball-jointed fingers gliding over the line of your brows to brush away any sleep-tousled hairs from your bleary eyes. You looked so lovely like this, just barely rousing from sleep to the sight of him sitting up in bed with those piercing eyes staring down at you- calculating, almost cold had it not been for the way your warmth melted the ice around his heart.
“What time is it?” You mumbled, rolling onto your side and then slumping forward with a groan. His hand naturally found its way to your back, briefly tracing the line of your spine up to your nape- bare skin compared to where his electro sigil remained etched into his skin as a permanent reminder of what was meant to be his legacy. “Hey, you’re-...you’re staring, stop that…” He could only smirk, feeling the warmth of your skin nearly double as blood rushed to your face in embarrassment under his wordless stare.
“It’s early. And it’s not like you’re stopping me, quit your whining.” Cold fingers trace around your neck when he tilted his head to find your eyes with his own, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. A sweet gesture, though like everything he did, calculated. Each pass of his hands on your skin, each smile you gifted him, he absorbed your light like darkness. Your stars to be lost in his skies. You’d never have to worry, of course, not when he took such good care of you. From the first day you stumbled into him, in disarray and a flurry of apologies over tripping into him or something- he couldn’t quite remember what you said, not when he was so entranced by how alive you were. His personal sunshine for skin damned to run cold.
Similarly, it was his detached demeanor that drew you closer to the puppet. Like smoldering embers, a flame dormant- just waiting for a spark to render it alive again. “You look like a mess.” He snorted, tugging at the wrinkled fabric of your sleepwear. In retort, a huff left your lips as you grabbed his shirt and tugged him backwards- an uncharacteristically bold move from his sweetheart of a lover.
“And you look pristine. Something you wanna tell me, mister?” Came your playful chiding, knowing that he rarely slept. Sleep to you was necessary- to him, it was an excuse to lay with you.
“Careful,” Wanderer scoffed, his whole hand laid over your giggling face and pushing you back onto the bed. “You’ve gotten a bit too cheeky as of late.” He griped, scowling with his arms crossed over his chest. “Don’t tell me I’m already influencing you?”
When you only bashfully smiled and shrugged where you lay, the blankets enshrouded about your bodies like clouds, the frown lines about his lips softened. With an exaggerated sigh, the former harbinger lay beside you and dragged you by the head to lay on his shoulder. “Fine. We’ll rest an hour more, but that’s it.” He begrudgingly speaks, as if it wasn’t his idea.
And as you slowly fall back asleep, overheating the bedsheets with your warmth while his cold body cools you back down, he stares up at the ceiling with a lazy smirk. All this song and dance to keep you under his control when it was plainly obvious that it was you who had the lone wanderer wrapped around your pretty little finger.
