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#Soft
poemale · 2 days
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    ࣪ ୭ৎ ׅ ࣪ black hearts symbols ִֶָ ࣪ ⊹
    ♥︎   ❧  ͝❦  ❦ུ⃨  ꯳⃘꤫⃛͡❥   ♥︎ᬼ  ♥︎゚⃝
    ❥  ♥︎̼̻   ᠈❥  ❥?̸  ၇͜ᩘ❦   ♥︎᭄ᬽ  𓊈♥︎̼̻𓊉 
    ❦   ♥︎ 𐫦   ❦゚⃝   ◍⃘♥︎  ♥︎ ຶ⵿    ᶓ❤︎᭮ᶔ   ۪ܺׄ⃞☙
   ❤︎  ՙ♥︎   ♥︎ᭂ‍ ♥︎᪇ꫭ⠀  ꦿꦸ❣  ཊ♥︎ཉ  ཐི ⃟͚♥︎ཋྀ
    ❣   ❤︎᭮  ♥︎ིꨩ  ☙ུ   ❧ ꦿꦸ   ཆི❣ཆྀ  °ཐི❦̵̼͓̥͒̾͘ཋྀ°
    
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iihrrtme · 3 days
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coquetteangelll · 3 days
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5x22 | 6x4
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zimthandmade · 2 days
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GOD, those two -- I'm tellin ya. Like, you know what I mean??
----- My other socials Commission Info Let's drink some Ko-Fi! 🍵
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awtonomie · 1 day
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joel miller just adores sleepy angels .
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— eyes barely open , half lidded and slightly red ? lips jutted out in a pout when u can ’t get a word out cus ur poor brain is jus so tired ? blinking rapidly so ur poor eyelids don ’t cave down ?
…. well don ’t u worry ur pretty little head any longer . joel and his ( surprisingly ) comfortable lap , large hands ( to stroke your hair ) , and soft voice ( to whisper precious things down at u ) are at ur rescue as soon as ur eyes start to slowly flutter shut . he ’d beckon u over with a hand , “ c ’mere sweet thing .. jeez , so tired , hm ? what ’s got u so tuckered out ? ” his low voice would mutter softly as he pulled u into his warm and wide embrace .
his fingers snaked their way into ur hair, tucking ur hair behind ur ear , then tracing ur jaw & cupping ur cheek . “ poor baby , ” he ’d coo softly as he tilted his head to the side to admire u , a light chuckle rumbling gently in his chest . he just adored u . precious baby . his precious baby.
wc : 181 💀.
a/n : hai first post … sorry , i lowkey got lazy , but i just wanted to write a tiny thing ( inspired by my bae who was asleep while i wrote this ;P ) . hope u like it :) .
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baenuit · 2 days
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short bios.
melodiesㅤ ᡴ 𓇼 ᴖㅤ 海水
੭ surfer doll 𐂯 ° 。 !!
Pancakes & mushrooms ✿⃘
৲ ৲⠀ ౨ৎ⠀⠀ 𓈒 𓈒 Mon diary
꒰ ྀི ⸝⸝⸝ ꒱ ୨୧ ˚ 수줍은 인형
@group 𑁍ㅉ ᶻz 𓇼
⪩⪨
ε𝚒̈з feeling the moon 𑂯 🌙
𓈒ㅤ𑁯 avec moi ! ˚ യ
ᘓ ꒰੭⸝⸝´⸝⸝꒱੭ ✶ @userlove
⭒ ּ ۪ 親愛なる ᮫ 𓈒 ⭒
꒷꒦꒷
✧⃝ ⌒ ꒰ group ꒱ !!♡ ⭒ ࣪
" 𝘮𝘦𝘶 𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘰 ✰ 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘩𝘰 "
୨ ✿𝆬 ୧ ♪ 멜로디ㅤ ਏਓㅤ 🫶🏻
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xlilcow · 9 hours
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I just wanna straddle ur waist sir 🥺
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kawaiibabeshop · 2 days
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🌸 Kawaii Shop 🌸
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region-morning · 16 hours
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dollettae · 21 hours
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         ๑ 𝓲nstagram 𝅄 𝓹ack ഒ
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1. ི᭨ᩧྀ
2. ­­✿‎
3. ­‹𝟹
4. ­‎ᡣ 𑂳·˔·Ɂ
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coquetteangelll · 3 days
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alone-yeah-need · 1 day
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scarletteye · 2 days
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Soft and Smitten Scaramouche/Wanderer
I went through my scara fics recently and giggled at my own writing whenever Scaramouche acted soft/smitten. So I figured if I can be delulu about it, you can be delulu too!!!!
I made a smol collection of some of my fave moments, where I lowkey just explore his dynamic with someone he is smitten with (in my fics case, its the reader character) and appreciate how drop-dead gorgeous he is.
GORGEOUS I SAY. anyways, enjoy the clipsss, the fic will be linked at the end of the post! This story takes place in his Wanderer era! Just a heads up. I also can make a collection of him being smitten in his Scaramouche era, just lemme know if u want it!
Without further ado, I present to you: Scaramouche in love!
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
The Withered in Bloom Ch. 14
It was ridiculous to think that basket weaving could take whole 5 days to finish, yet as soon as you woke up, your brother notified you that they need your assistance with the baskets. At least he let you enjoy breakfast before he hurried you to the busy deck. All of your forest-ranger colleagues greeted you excitedly – everybody was over their job, and everybody wanted to finish the baskets as soon as possible. This was supposed to be the last day. The rest of the week was predicted for a full inventory check, but that was a job for the Forest Watchers.
You found a relatively cozy spot on the ground and began weaving. At this point your fingers had memorized the necessary movements, allowing you to work on autopilot and tie the basket together without mistakes. It also allowed your mind to wander, and you found yourself thinking back about the Sanctuary of Surasthana and your last conversation with Scaramouche. (...)
As if on cue, you heard the song of bells flutter through the air. A warm breeze blew across the deck, scattering away a few pieces of straw and bringing the melody to your ears. Though the sound filled your skin with goosebumps, you felt your lips twist into a gentle smile.
It had been a few days since you last spoke to him. He asked you for secrecy before you left, so you never disclosed your past or anything that was said between you to anybody. Though you weren’t sure whether Scaramouche told you to keep quiet because he was ashamed or because he didn’t want to burden anybody else with knowledge about your past. You agreed with him nonetheless. Your brother seemed happier since Irminsul changed your reality. Cyno seemed happier, too. He was less paranoid, and he allowed himself to relax with Tighnari instead of constantly watching you like a hawk. You weren’t planning on telling them anything.
The bells became louder. You heard his faint footsteps behind you – even and light strides that were barely audible behind the chiming of his hat accessories. Feeling his presence, you put your half-finished basket down, and turned around to face him with a smile.
He stood above you, wearing a deadpanned expression as he looked down at your heart-warming gesture. His arms stood crossed against his chest.
“Good morning,” you greeted warmly.
“It is noon,” he retorted blankly.
“Oh. Wait. Really?”
Seeing your genuine confusion, his lips pulled into a lopsided smirk. He untangled his arms and walked in front of you, finding an empty spot on the ground where he elegantly plopped down. “Obviously. Have I ever lied to you, darling?”
Your eyes narrowed at him. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
“Seriously?” he huffed. “I’ve never told you anything dishonest. I merely kept the truth from you at times.”
His fingers gingerly reached for the box of straw that you kept at your side. He began pulling out pieces, skillfully finding long straws that he could twist and tie together. Scaramouche was silent as he worked, focusing on the knots that his slender fingers tied with ease. The straw looked sturdy in his hands, whilst seeming extra frail in yours. Perhaps it was the way he held it that made it seem like an entirely different art form.
“When did you learn how to weave baskets?” you questioned. Your gaze was locked on his hands that worked diligently and quickly, creating an entire hoop of straw in less than a minute.
“I’ve been alive for nearly 500 years,” he mused. “Do you think I had spent that time living isolated from the world? I know more than you’d guess.”
It was still strange to you to think that he wasn’t human. He looked like everyone else. He looked soulful and alive – like a normal human who is just slightly more attractive than the norm. Whenever you looked at him, you didn’t see a puppet nor a monster. Truthfully, you didn’t care what he was anymore. If you could live through him being a God, you could also accept that he had been alive for hundreds of years.
Scaramouche eyed you carefully as he noticed your silence. Catching a glimpse of him doing that, you offered him a gentle smile. “Like what?”
It was his turn to fall mute. It seemed as if he didn’t expect you to be interested, or rather he expected you to be shocked and horrified by his life span. In the end Scaramouche only shrugged, and his fingers continued to twist the straw into hoops and knots. “Anything you could think of.”
“Playing the lyre?”
“Why?” he questioned you now. “Is there any specific song that you like hearing?”
You snapped your fingers as a shout of victory. “So you do play the lyre!”
Scaramouche rolled his eyes at you. “Yes, darling. I can play the lyre. I am skilled in swordsman ship, and knitting and weaving arts…” his voice trailed off. “I suppose I am well skilled with my hands.”
You blinked at him, feeling heat surge to your ears. His expression remained unchanged, and it seemed as if he didn’t notice that he said something questionable. Or maybe, you were the weird one for finding dirty undertones in something that wasn’t meant to be dirty.
“Well. Skilled with both hands and mind,” he continued, now sounding as if he were bragging. “I suppose I am just exceptional.”
You cleared your throat. “Humble brag.”
Scaramouche shot you a glare. First he looked at your rosy face, and then at the basket that remained unchanged under your hands. “Do you plan to let me do all of your work?” he grumbled. “I didn’t come here to become a Forest ranger. If you plan to slack off, I will leave and let you abuse someone else’s goodwill.”
“I didn’t even ask you to help,” you defended yourself.
“Well if I don’t help you, you’ll be stuck doing this for the rest of the day. And as much as I enjoy watching you struggle, I’d prefer if we could do something else.”
“What a charmer,” you grumbled, forcing yourself to start working on the basket again. You worked slowly, repeating the weaving patterns that you always used. Scaramouche passed you the hoop that he had created. As your fingers grazed his, you felt a strong flutter in your stomach. You tried to act normal as you cojoined his creation to yours. The difference in style was more than apparent, and it made the basket look ridiculous. He didn’t seem to care, and he instead continued to grab pieces of straw to make more.
You worked in silence for a while, just enjoying each other’s presence. Every now and then Scaramouche would toss you a complaint or a masked compliment regarding the basket, but you preferred for him to be silent. There was just something about him in this lighting. Sunlight hit his face perfectly, illuminating his purple eyes and making his red make up seem more vibrant. You liked the way his brows furrowed as he concentrated, and you liked the way his accessories jingled in the breeze. His pretty hat and the golden accents nearly shone in the sunlight, and the sheer mesh of his undershirt seemed lighter than it did in the shade. His Anemo Vision silently glowed against his shoulder, falling nearly hidden by the lotus that hung over it, and weighted down by the golden feather accessory.
Now you knew what that lotus flower meant. It was the same type of flower that he gave you before your first kiss. The same type of flower that you gifted to him as an apology. He kept the memoir.
You smiled to yourself, failing to notice how Scaramouche stopped working to observe you. His eyes glazed your entire face, and his expression turned more relaxed with each passing breath.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
The Withered in Bloom Ch. 15
You were so pleasantly surprised by Scaramouche's behavior that you decided to award him with tea - the most bitter vile mixture you could make, but he drank it all without complaint. It seemed as if he enjoyed the bitter taste and you hardly held back from calling him insane. You were someone who preferred sweet over bitter. Though, that stark difference between you was the lightest among the bunch.
You spent the entire afternoon sitting with him and moving around Ghandarva ville to avoid chores. You mostly talked about your family and how they felt about Scaramouche after last night, and he seemed to listen carefully, despite looking distracted.
Noticing how he was observing the remnants of the tea that decorated the walls of the mug, you nudged his shoulder and began to tease him. “Are you trying to read your future? I heard that the tea leaf technique is quite rare.”
He looked at you unamused, before forcing a smirk. “Naturally. Divination is a very taxing profession. Only those with exceptional talents can dabble with fate.”
“Exceptional such as you, of course” you decided to entertain him. “So what do the leaves say?”
“They say I’m about to become very, very lucky.”
“It is nice to know that the leaves want you to have a good day,” you nodded enthusiastically. “What else?”
He let out a chortle. For a split second, his smile turned genuine, and then his face fell to its usual serious position. You felt your heart fluttered. Did you just make him laugh? Did you just…
“Let’s see,” he twisted the mug around. “Here we have. Prophecy of being lectured by a god. The curse of a blabbering companion who can’t keep her mouth shut. And oh…” he swiped his finger against the inside of the mug, tapping it against your face and staining your skin with green. You leaned back in surprise.
You watched him with big eyes. He smirked at you before putting his mug down. “I can’t believe you fell for that. Have you learned nothing from your journey? You shouldn’t be so naïve.”
“Was that some sort of Inazuman trick that people use on children?” you asked, wiping your face that began heating from embarrassment. “Because I will kick you off the deck.”
You were sitting on the edge of the second level of the village, far from anybody. Night was falling over the rainforest, and in turn the air turned louder. Cicadas, birds, signing rangers… the sound of warm evenings and of eternal summer. Every night in the rainforest sounded similar. The sky turned darker with each passing minute, showing more and more stars to those that paid attention.
It had been a while since you sat like this to watch them. In fact, the last time you did, you were with Scaramouche. Back then you knew him as the Wanderer, and you never expected him to be anything else. That night he told you horrible stuff – about you being abandoned and about you never finding true family. It made sense to you now. He projected his insecurities onto you that night, and they hit you deeply because you two, despite your differences, weren’t that fundamentally different.
“It’s not a common trick,” he stated. As he put the mug aside, you noticed his expression turn more sullen. “But the people that taught me used it on me a few times. I suppose it just stuck with me…”
You tilted your head curiously. You wanted to ask. You were actually dying to know more about him, but you knew how he got when asked sensitive questions.
He sighed. “If you must know,” he grumbled, sensing your curiosity. “They were a group of swordsmiths and miners who operated the smelting furnace in Tatatarsuna. It’s an island in Inazuma. The furnace was the biggest in the nation and used to smelt special ore that they could shape into finest blades. I’m not sure why I’m pointing that out. It is irrelevant,” he mumbled, sounding annoyed by himself all of the sudden.
“Oh. No. Actually, I never heard of it so…”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Okay, you don’t have to insult me now.”
“I’m not trying to,” he grumbled. Realizing that you were accidentally stopping him from telling his story, you cleared your throat and looked up at the sky. As you fell silent, he realized that you were waiting for him to continue. All thought your act was theatrical, it worked. He continued to share some light on his backstory. “I was a child. I had just wandered off alone to the shores of that island, when they found me. Needless to say, they were horrified to find somebody like me. Alone and abandoned. They pitied me and took me under their wing. There, amidst the mine, I believed I had found family.”
His eyes dimmed. He was looking at the sky, but his mind wandered off to the distant past. “They taught me all the basics of your human lives. How to tie knots. How to prepare meals. How to shape swords from molten iron… They were just a group of good-hearted men who tried to raise me. They tried to entertain me by using tricks and jokes. The trick with the mug. Anecdotes. Quizzes. The more I think about it, the more I realize just how unnecessary those were.”
You looked at him. Your heart felt full because of his story. You always believed he never had a family. It seemed as if he did. They even sounded lovely but… the look in his eyes told you that there was more. Maybe something happened to them, or maybe they disappointed him somehow, because the look in his eyes told you that it wasn’t a pleasant memory.
“It sounds like they really tried to give you a happy childhood.”
“I suppose,” he responded dully. “It doesn’t matter anymore. That was a long time ago. A mere fraction of my life.”
“But… that doesn’t make it meaningless, does it?”
He looked at you, seeming seldom-annoyed and seldom-comforted. It was always difficult to tell with him. In the end, he let out a sigh and looked up at the sky. The stars had grown clearer, showing you a beautiful painting of the galaxy.
A cold breeze flew past you, and you shivered. The night was drastically colder than the day, and you had left your jacket in Tighnari’s infirmary when leaving your teammates. You swiped your hands across your arms, trying to warm your skin.
“Here,” Scaramouche quietly said. He began untying his tunic. It covered him somewhat loosely, so it wasn’t difficult to get it off. He had trouble with getting his Vision off without damaging the Lotus that he strung close to it, but other than that, his tunic was off in a few seconds. Your eyes couldn’t help but wander to his bare shoulders. The sleeves shirt that covered his torso left little to the imagination, but at night it looked dark enough to hide his skin under it.
Your eyes stayed on his bicep for a bit too long because you were sure he noticed. The corners of his lips twisted upwards, and despite his best attempt to control his facial expression, he showed exactly how much your stares entertained him.
He wrapped his tunic around you, and you huddled under it gratefully. It was warm. As warm as his body whenever you hugged him. And it smelled like him too. You realized you were a bit too fond of that feeling once you pulled the tunic all the way over your chest. You weren’t that cold, but the sheer comfort of being in his clothes nearly convinced you that you would be freezing if you took it off.
“Had I know you were freezing, I would have suggested we head indoors,” he teased. “Though, considering how much you’re staring at me; I’m guessing you are finding this quite enjoyable.”
You were at a loss for words. Your brain felt empty – there was no excuses and no explanations for you to use. Your face turned red, and you were incapable of hiding it. The least you could do was huff and roll your eyes at him. “Somehow you’re more charming when you’re trying to insult me.”
There it was again. A glimpse of a genuine smile that made you feel crazy flattered. To think that you were capable of getting this kind of reaction from him was mind boggling. “I never try to be charming, darling. But I am glad to know you find me as such.”
“Oh great. Now I’m boosting your ego.”
He tilted his head at you. The red allure of his make-up. The darkness of his cunning eyes. You found yourself unable to breath or blink. He was gorgeous. From head to toe, there wasn’t a single part of him that looked flawed.
“Why are you smiling at me?” you quietly questioned.
“Does it bother you?” he asked with the same tone of voice. “I was merely thinking that you look pretty.”
Your lips departed in surprise. All that left them was a quiet breath. The heat of your face reached your ears, making you feel as if you were going to break a sweat at any given moment. It wasn’t fair how easily he made you flustered without even trying.
Scaramouche’s fingers gently traced your face. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers linger on your skin. His touch was so gentle yet so chilling, be it the coldness of his skin, or the knowledge of the power that he had over you. You didn’t care to differentiate them.
With a feeble hold on your chin, he leaned closer. Your breath hitched, and he paused right before you lips touched, sensing your nervousness. Maybe he wasn’t sure if you wanted it, or maybe he thought you got frightened, but his pause prolonged. Your stomach burned with anticipation and desire. You could catch his breath into yours. You could feel the warmth of his body heat. Why did he think to stop?
You closed the gap between you. Your lips softly clashed. His were soft and warm; they moved timidly against yours. Breath against breath, he pressed deeper. You accepted his guide. You accepted the growing hold of his hand on your chin, and you accepted his eager lips. You felt the desire to hold him closer. To have him closer. And your hand traveled to his bicep, trying to fulfill your desires.
Your lips grew hungrier. Deeper. Sloppier. He pushed with more force; his hand slipped from your chin to the back of your head and you accepted his move. It made you crazier. Thirstier for his warmth. Your hands snaked around his shoulders, feeling his exposed skin and the thin fabric that hid the rest from you. You hugged around his neck, drawing him closer.
For a second, your lips slipped off his, and a shiver rolled off his tongue. It filled your stomach with hotness. Made your lips hungrier. Pushier. He tasted intoxicating. He tasted perfect. Bitter like the tea that you had made him, and sweet like the sugar that you had poured into your own cup. The two polar opposites melted in your mouth, failing to quench you.
His hands traced down your body; tingles fluttered through your system, unnerving your stomach and making you crazier for him. Your fingers tangled in his hair. You were trapped in between his arms. Trapped under him as he loomed over you. A quiver escaped your mouth as you struggled to keep your sloppy lips on his.
You both paused as your lips departed, staying tied in each other’s proximity. You listened to his unorderly breath, feeling each of his breaths as tingles on your skin. You felt your heart forcefully beat against your chest, and you were sure he could feel it too consider how close he was. His warmth was driving you insane. His perfect scent and his perfect hands that held you sides now. You were eager to have more of him. To taste him for longer.
Your lips grazed his proactively. He caught you in an instant, returning the gesture by pressing deeper against your lips, and you melted as soon as you tasted his tongue. His fingertips pressed against your sides, holding you firmly and possessively. He put more force into your kiss, and your mind turned foggy beyond recognition. You couldn’t think anymore. All of your senses were focused on him. His scent. His taste. His harshness. His unorganized breaths between your sloppy dance.
Tangled in each other, preoccupied with your desires, you failed to be careful. You were reminded you were sitting on the edge of the deck only after his clumsy fingers grabbed at the ground, and accidentally knocked over the mug that he had put aside. It loudly clanked, nearly falling over the ledge before he hastily caught it.
He reacted so quickly that he practically jerked himself of your lips, and you were left leaning against his cheek. Drawing uneven breaths against his skin as he looked over your shoulder to make sure that the mug stayed away from the ledge.
“Darling,” he whispered against your ear. His voice sent a rush of heat down your entire body, and your lips nervously pressed together as you tried to swallow the feeling down.
“Yeah?”  you whispered back.
“I think we should get away from the open ledge.”
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
The Withered in Bloom Ch. 17
The afternoon turned quiet and still as you found yourself free from work. You were done with all your tasks quicker than usual thanks to Scaramouche. He hadn’t left your side all day, despite admitting that Kusanali was impatiently waiting for him to return to the Sanctuary or Surasthana. You didn’t try to shoo him away, knowing that he would be gone for a few days once Kusanali gets Her hands on him. You figured you could at least enjoy his companionship as long as you could.
Dirty and sweaty from hard work, you were desperate to take a cold swim at the waterfall. This time you didn’t let Scaramouche anywhere near your room as you grabbed your stuff, still feeling embarrassment as you walked past your bed. Memories from last night intruded your mind despite your wish to not think about sinful things. It was difficult to turn a blind eye to it, and the tips of your earns burned a stark red as you found yesterday’s laundry still piled on the floor – carelessly tossed aside by Scaramouche.
 He patiently waited outside of your hut, and silently followed you outside of Ghandarva ville once you had everything you needed. With a towel and a clean shirt over your shoulder, you led him across the dry forest path.
A few finches flied overhead, one of them trying to rest on Scaramouche’s hat. He let out a scoff and swatted them away, and you tossed him a confused glare which instantly made him stop. Being liked by animals was something that every ranger would be jealous off.
The waterfall greeted you with its familiar loud rustling. Water poured over the stoney cliff, showering the blue pool with a strong and majestic flow. Even standing next to it felt amazing, as millions of micro droplets splattered your skin with coldness. It was perfectly refreshing.
You smiled brightly at the feeling, failing to notice Scaramouche who silently observed you as you gleamed in the waterfall’s blessing. You began stripping off your clothes, stopping once you were in your undergarments. You rested your clean towel and shirt against a boulder and slowly made your way to the pool. Hearing rustling, you couldn’t help but turn your head to look at Scaramouche. He took off his tunic, carefully resting it with the rest of your clothes; his Vision shone brightly against the boulder’s surface, illuminating the lotus that decorated it. It somehow looked as fresh as it did when he first attached it to his Vision, making you question if he constantly picked new lotuses, or whether Kusanali tampered with it to keep it looking that way.
He took off his hat, putting it with the rest of his clothes before he proceeded to take his shorts off. He noticed you staring, and he looked at you in surprise before his lips pulled into a smirk. You hastily looked away, but you knew that you were too late.
You sat next to the pool, dipping your legs into the cold water. You had to get used to the temperature before getting in. Scaramouche plopped down next to you, still wearing that same smirk from earlier as his thoughts seemingly greatly entertained him.
“Are you not going to get in?” he questioned.
“It’s cold,” you said. “I need to get used to the water first.”
He hummed in agreement. It wasn’t long before Scaramouche slipped into the water. He didn’t even flinch. Goosebumps dotted your arms at the mere thought of getting in, but he didn’t seem to mind the cold at all. He turned towards you, and you instinctively put your hands up as a shield. “Please don’t splash me.”
“I won’t.”
You put your hands down. Scaramouche slowly swam over to your side, stopping once he was standing in front of you. He looked up at you with a solemn expression. Every hint of arrogance was gone, and his face turned soft. Sentimental. He came closer, putting his hands on your thighs and gently pulling your legs open to make space for his body. You suppressed a shiver at the sudden iciness of his touch. The cold water didn’t seem that different from how his skin usually felt. But in your mind, his skin was as hot as the night prior.
Scaramouche rested on the stone between your legs, his dark gorgeous eyes not once leaving yours as he leaned his head against your thigh. Your lips fell open and then closed. Scaramouche’s gaze turned you breathless. Oozing with honey, his usually dark eyes sparkled in the waterfall’s shiny blue atmosphere.
 He was mute; you were his entire world in that very moment. The center of his eye, the only meaningful, tangible thing… You didn’t know what to think. You couldn’t think. You were mesmerized by the loving eyes with which he gazed up at you.
Your fingers gingerly passed through his hair, messing his purple strands as you pulled them up from his forehead. He nuzzled deeper against your thigh, watching you still as you brushed through his hair.
Your heart fluttered; your heartbeat had long become unbearably fast since he first approached. The heaviness of his honeyed gaze rendered you completely still.
The waterfall’s continuous rustling turned to distant noise. The iciness of the pool bellow you became miniscule. Scaramouche felt so much warmer than the water that you briefly associated him with. His gaze; the loving, sparkling brilliance in his eyes. It warmed you from within, tugging at all of your heartstrings at once.
Your lips pulled into a smile. The joy from your heart threatening to spill from your mouth in the form of laughter. It was unimaginable to you that this man was yours. That you were the one he looked at with such endearment. That, despite his cold and expressionless nature, you somehow ended up helping him feel.
His brows furrowed slightly, knitting together into an innocent and questioning arch. He was puzzled by your smile.
It was as if he only then became aware of his expression. Only then, he realized how much he had relaxed around you. How enchanted he had become by your presence. His face quickly shifted to its usual cold exterior, proving to you once and for all that it was always an act. He frowned at you, leaning away from your leg and body.
“You are taking too long,” he said. Before you could say anything, he swiped his hands across the pool surface and splashed you. You yelped, pulling your knees up as cold water dotted your stomach.
“You said you wouldn’t splash me!”
“I made no promises."
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
okay te-hee. i'm still giggling. I hope you enjoyed! I decided to not gatekeep the kiss in the second clip so~
You can find the fic on my Ao3, right here. Withered in Bloom is the third book in my series "A Puppet's Heart". Hope you enjoy if u do end up reading it!
And as always, if u enjoy my writing, I also have a ko-fi and more fics on my ao3 account <3
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