You didn't know about his headaches until he would groan under his breathe during your quiet study sessions together. His fingers rub against his skin. Then he'd start tapping away with the pencil he had on hand.
You don't know why exactly he gets headaches so often. You tried asking him once during the early stages of your relationship, he always ends up brushing off your concern.
Still that didn't mean you couldn't do anything about it.
The next time it happened, you were prepared. You offered him tea, bitter just the way he liked it but with properties that could possibly help him and his headaches.
You've tried other methods. Lighting the incense sticks Kaveh had gifted you, offering a cold towel, etc. You know you can't stop it from happening to him so the least you could do is make it bearable.
"You're making that face again, do you need more tea?" You asked him, pencil coming to a halt.
"What face? And no, thank you, my cup's still full." He reaches out to clasp his bitter cup of tea.
"You always pull a face whenever your head starts hurting again."
"It's not that I don't appreciate all you've done for me, but why are you so insistent on helping me with this?" He swirls his cup, eyes focused on the contents drifting about.
"Can't I just care?" You shrug.
"If that's what you want, then who am I to stop you.” You hear him sigh, then “But thank you. For trying." You know he's probably too shy to look up at you. You say nothing and continue on with your studies.
.✦ ݁˖ .✦ ݁˖
You now know what remedy helps him the best and it's the one he genuinely would rather be caught dead doing. He finds it the most soothing whenever you let him lay on your lap while you run your hands through his hair, occasionally massaging and pressing around his scalp.
You don't tell him but you've felt indents along his head. Sometimes you find yourself wanting to ask him about it but you catch his calm expression and no answer could ever matter if it means disturbing his respite.
Whenever you, Wanderer, and Durin would go flying around the trees, he likes to let Durin explore on his own while he rests with you. Durin comes flying back, loud and happy like always. But before he can get too much of an earshot from you and Wanderer, you lift a finger to your lips and pointing to the resting Wanderer on your lap.
Ever since that day, Durin makes sure he gets to lay on your lap as well. Seizing the opportunity whenever you weren't busy on the couch.
"Hey have you seen Durin? He said he wanted to-" Wanderer turns the corner and catches Durin on his spot of the couch. Your fingers gently scratch over the edges of his hairline with a book on your other hand.
"Why is he there?" Wanderer asks, that's my spot, he wants to add. You look up from your book, "He said he wanted to lay a bit while he waited for you." You look at the precious thing on your lap.
"He said he was just planning on waiting for you." You chuckle. "I guess he fell asleep."
"Whatever." Wanderer sighs, making his way to sit on the other side of the couch. He moves to lay on your other lap.
"Wha- are you sure you've got enough space there?" You shift to place your book down on the table near you.
"It won't be an issue. Durin's asleep and I've got nothing better to do." He states.
You sigh, letting him get comfortable on your lap. You bring down your hand to brush against his hair. At one point, your legs start to feel like static but you can't bring yourself to move at all.
_________________________
This was inspired by the people that said he probably got headaches from his fall in the Sumeru quest. I love itttt,,, Also semi proofread..sorry for any grammatical or spelling mistakes!!
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reverse isekai based on a dream i had a while ago!!!
a/n: this was my first time writing for Wanderer, also my first time writing a long makeout scene so i hope its ok 😓, not really proofread, i'm realizing that i'm really bad at staying consistent with using past or present tense, i think i might have used "Scaramouche" and "Wanderer" interchangeably..., based on a dream i had and so he might be ooc
side note: pretend its now Wanderer's banner and you had been waiting for soo long
warnings: making out
wc: 1.64k 🤭🤭
you were nice and comfy on your bed, sitting with a fluffy blanket over your legs, and your laptop resting on top.
you had been waiting for what felt like forever for Wanderer to have a rerun, and the time finally came! you updated the game a few hours ago, and had planned on doing a voice call with your friends to stream your pulls.
you put on your headphones, loaded up discord, and saw that some of your friends were already in the call, so you joined.
"hey everyone!!" you exclaimed, and your friends greeted you back. you were super excited to pull for Wanderer, and your friends knew it too.
you and your friends chatted and joked around while waiting for one more person.
eventually everyone was in the call, ready to watch you stream your pulls.
"ooouuu guys i'm so excited!!!" you squealed as you shared your screen.
"haha y/n, we know," your friends chuckled, they always listened to you gush about all your favourite characters.
almost hyperventilating, you went to your lucky wishing spot, and then opened the banners and saw Wanderer. you'd been preparing for this moment. you had skipped numerous characters' banners, and had saved up more than enough primogems to guarantee him.
"okay guys, here i go!" your friends can hear the excitment in your voice as they watch you click the button to wish 10 times.
you were at 0 pity, and had 0 guarantee, so you were expecting just a flash of purple, and definitely not the flash of yellow that flew across the screen.
"oh my gosh. guys do you think it's him??" you spam click the "skip" button, anxious to see who you got.
after a few random 3 star items, you finally got to the 5 star. a black silhouette with a golden glow behind it filled your screen.
"OH! MY! GOSH!! YESSSS GUYSSSS!!!!!! OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH!!" you squeal as Wanderer appears on your screen.
your friends congratulate you, saying things like "that's so awesome!" and "wow, so lucky!" as you click through the rest of the random 3 star items.
but then for the very last pull, you see that familiar black silhouette with the yellow glow again.
for real?!
you squeal in delight as Wanderer appears on your screen again.
"GUYS THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER!!! I PULLED WANDERER TWICE, CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?!" you basically scream and your friends just chuckle at your enthusiasm, "I'M SO HAPPY AND-"
click!
"..huh?" your room lights were suddenly switched off, your room now only partially illuminated by the warm light from the hallway, the soft glow from your nightstand lamp, and the bright glare from your laptop screen.
what the heck?
you look up from your laptop and see a very familiar silhouette standing in the doorway.
Wanderer?
that doesn't make sense. surely your eyes were playing tricks on you... right?
"y/n?" your friends tried to get your attention over the call, wondering if you had disconnected. they all knew you wouldn't just randomly go quiet right after getting the character you had wanted for so long.
but their voices from your headphones just went in one ear and right out the other.
because Wanderer was right there in front of you.
you didn't exactly know how or why, but you could tell this was the real Wanderer, and not some cosplayer who broke into your home. maybe it was his aura or the way he looked or the way he carried himself, or just a gut feeling, but somehow you knew.
it was really him.
Wanderer slowly walked over, taking off his inefficiently wide hat and setting it on the foot of your bed as he walked closer to you.
damn. somehow he's even more gorgeous when he's standing right here in front of you than he is inside of Genshin and in all the fanart you've seen.
you feel your cheeks heat up as he leans in close towards the mic attatched to your headset.
"sorry guys, she has to go now," he chuckles into the mic as his hands grace over your laptop keys. he exits genshin, and closes discord to make you leave the call.
one of his hands gracefully slides over the lid of your laptop, closing it shut. then he carefully takes the headset off of you, setting it on your laptop before setting both on your nightstand.
then he turns back around to face you and steps closer to the bed.
"so..." he looks at you and trails off, scoffing in amusement once he notices your flushed complexion and the way your eyes are still wide with surprise.
your eyes follow him as he steps even closer to the edge of your bed and leans in towards you.
you can feel your heart racing. fast. so fast you're sure he can probably feel it with how close he is.
he now has one forearm pressed against your bedframe for balance as he leans in closer. your faces are now a few centimeters apart, somehow feeling too close but also too far at the same time.
he gently grabs your chin with one of his hands, tilting your head up slightly, and he doesn't miss the way your gaze flickers from his eyes down to his lips.
he looks to the side and chuckles to himself before looking back at you, his thumb gently ghosting over your bottom lip, "been dreaming about this for a while now, haven't you?"
you just stare up at him breathlessly.
there's no way this was real.
there's no way he was really here.
you bring a hand up to his wrist, not to stop him, but just to feel and make sure that he was really there. then you slowly bring your other hand up and carefully run it through his silky hair, your touch light and gentle as if he could slip through your fingertips and dissappear at any moment.
he leans in even closer, so close that you can feel the warm puff of air as he exhales.
is he going to...
then he looks up at you through his lashes, making eye contact as if he's silently asking for your permission.
you give him a shy nod, the action so subtle he would have missed it if you didn't have his full undivided attention.
he gives you a satisfied grin as he leans in and presses his lips against yours.
the first kiss is gentle and short, only lasting a few seconds before he pulls back slightly, giving you a chance to tell him that you don't want to keep going.
when you don't stop him or give any indication of discomfort, he leans in and presses his lips to yours again, this time more firmly and confidently.
it doesn't take long for both of you to start wanting more. you leave one hand in his hair, and bring your other hand to the back of his neck, pulling him in closer. his tongue comes out to trace your bottom lip before sliding into your mouth.
he gladly swallows up the soft moan that escapes your mouth at the feeling of his tongue.
the kiss quickly becomes sloppier, hungrier, more desperate.
not letting his lips leave yours, his tongue continues exploring your mouth as he carefully climbs up onto your bed. he's now sitting comfortably between your legs on his knees, still towering over you.
he starts to pull away from your lips and grins to himself when you let out a small whine. he gently presses a few small kisses to your cheek, and then some along your jawline, then a few more by your ear. he takes his time and starts to gently nibble on your earlobe, enjoying the small sounds he manages to draw out of you, and the feeling of your hands gripping his hair tighter.
eventually, he starts to make his way down your neck, taking his time to leave a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses, his tongue occasionally coming out to drag along your skin. he finds a soft spot along your neck where you seem more sensitive, and experimentally bites down. he doesn't bite hard enough for it to be unbearable or draw blood, but hard enough to definitely leave a mark that will last a while.
he chuckles against your neck as you whimper softly and tighten your grip in his hair, and then he soothes away the pain by dragging his tongue over the small dents in your skin that his teeth left behind. then he places a few gentle kisses on top of and around the bite mark.
"you're so pretty, you know that?" he hums against your skin as he starts a trail of soft, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone.
he takes his time, enjoying the taste and feel of your skin and the small reactions you give him. you can feel him toying with the hem of your shirt. when fingertips first graze the bare skin of your stomach, you let out a soft gasp, and he responds with a small chuckle.
you use your grip in his hair to gently guide him away, prompting him to stop.
"hm..? everything alright?" he pauses and looks up at you, the concern visible in his eyes.
you don't say anything. instead, you just slowly wrap your arms around him, one arm around his waist, the other thrown over his shoulder, pulling his body closer to yours.
"can we just.. stay like this? just for a little bit?" your voice comes out quiet and gentle.
"hmm...? yeah, anything you want," he mumbles against your neck and obliges, his hands moving from the hem of your shirt to your back, pausing to just enjoy having you in his arms.
this took me wayyyy longer to write than it should've...
this was based on a dream but when i was asleep, the dream stopped around the makeout part but the way the dream felt implied that more happened.. but i didn't wanna write that so i tried to turn the ending fluffy 😝
calling wanderer "sweetheart" as your daily affirmation to him that, although he was born without a literal human heart, you see the hidden kindness in him, and in that sense, he has a bigger "heart" than many people you know
and something stirs in his mechanical chest every time he hears you say it
Wanderer x Reader (2k words, can be read as platonic)
In which you wish for Wanderer on the Sumeru Chronicled Banner just for him to appear in real life
masterlist
You waited so long for this moment, it’s been an eternity since his last banner. So many Prismos saved, so many characters resisted, all for him. Every skipped character felt like a test of patience– and now it will finally pay off.
The loading screen feels longer than usual, every second stretching too long. You start tapping your fingers against the desk as your heart doesn’t seem to slow down, until you finally enter the game. Without even checking your mail for maintenance compensation, you open the wishing screen – just to check– and there it is. The Sumeru chronicled banner, Wanderer’s face staring right back at you.
You almost press the ten-pull button right away, but stop yourself. Not yet. You have to go to your wishing spot first. Right in front of Shakkei Pavilion, where everything began. You adjust the time to night, setting a moody atmosphere on your monitor.
This is it. The defining moment. You open the wishing screen again, and as soon as the chronicled banner appears, your heart quickens once more. Fingers trembling from anticipation, you select Wanderer, then press the ten-pull button.
And…. Purple. Of course it’s purple. You skip the items– Sacrificial Sword, a bunch of three-star trash, whatever. The next few ten-pulls feel like a blur of repeated hope and disappointment, each four-star screen making you frown a bit stronger. Still, you won’t stop. Not until you have him.
You sigh in exasperation. You’re 50 pulls in– which isn’t enough to reach even soft pity, but seeing the number of acquaint fates lowering still is disheartening. Pushing the frustration aside, you do yet another ten-pull. Your heart nearly lurches when the wishing animation flashes golden. If this is another Tighnari constellation you will be a very unpleasant person for the next week.
The light from your monitor flares impossibly bright, to the point where you have to shield your eyes. Papers are swirling around your room, a few objects get tipped over. Is it storming? It feels like that. Your ceiling fan rattles violently, heart races and you get knocked off your chair, hitting the ground as the wind ceases, leaving an almost unnatural silence.
You rub your head as you sit up. This will definitely leave a bruise. The papers slowly fall down, no longer caught in the wind. A faint glow from your monitor remains, casting a soft and almost surreal aura in your room. You look at your hands. They’re shaking. This one got you good– just what was that? You close your eyes, grounding yourself back in reality. You’re safe, nothing is wrong. Nothing–
“…Where the hell am I?”
Your heart stops. Eyes snap open, your head whips toward the voice before you even realize it. You see a silhouette in front of the monitor. Someone is here, but you should be alone. Though, the sharp edge of the voice did sound familiar, but you can’t put your finger on it.
You almost scream for help before your head properly processes who the silhouette belongs to. You blink. Comically large hat, kimono, shorts. This can’t be. Did your obsession start playing tricks on you? You shakily get up from your sitting position, stepping closer almost in a daze. Your hand reaches out to touch him to check whether this is real– he swats it away.
“Don’t.” He says flatly, looking unimpressed. “Where am I?”
You let out a short laugh, in complete disbelief. He must think you’re crazy. You might be. “Scara…?”
His face sharpens, voice low and cold, like he’s threatening you. “Where did you get that name?”
He tries to push off the ground, but quickly realizes he can’t. “What– Why can’t I fly?”
You realise your mistake and scramble to correct yourself. “Ah sorry, Wanderer I mean. You’re in my room.”
Silence stretches between you two. It’s tense. He looks around, seemingly getting more and more suspicious. “You have pictures of me? Creepy.”
Your face heats up a little, but before you can answer, his gaze catches the window. His eyes widen, and for the first time, his composure cracks. His mouth opens in shock, words almost whispered. “Tch. This isn’t Teyvat. The stars–” He exhales sharply. “The sky is real.”
Then his eyes rise to your ceiling fan. “What kind of spinning weapon is that?? Are you trying to behead me? This thing could slice my head off clean if I was floating.”
Before he can say or look at anything else, you speak up, careful with your choice of words. “You must be so confused right now… I am too. But hear me out for a moment, okay?”
His frown eases slightly and he gives a cautious nod. You take a deep breath and explain everything to him, how he’s a character from a game in your world, how you had to save pulls in order to unlock his character in the game, and how instead of that happening, he was somehow brought into your world.
“This is… a lot”, he mumbles, then speaks up, “So in this world I’m also just a plaything?”
Oops. Your explanation must’ve touched a nerve. “You’re a lot more than that!! So many people in this world actually love you.”
He snorts, bitter edge in his tone “Tch. Love me? That’s stupid.”
You pull out your phone to show him, and as soon as you turn it on, he finds himself looking back at him on your wallpaper. “What the hell is that and why am I on there?”
“Oh… it’s my phone. Consider it my world’s Akasha Terminal.”
He crosses his arms, unimpressed. “You don’t see me decorating my stuff with your person.”
“I know this comes off as weird… and this is a lot to take in, but you mean a lot to some people in this world.” You explain, hoping he doesn’t think you’re a creep, though the chances are slowly but surely sinking.
“And you expect me to just… believe that?” he raises a brow, clearly not convinced.
“Here.” You hand him your phone, opening google. “Look it up yourself. Type in ‘Wanderer Genshin Impact’”
He eyes you suspiciously, and then types in, a bit clumsily ‘Why can’t I fly.’
Holding in your laugh, you pluck the phone out of his hand and explain “Visions don’t exist here. Neither do elemental powers.” You pause and think for a moment, then add “You… should maybe change your get-up too if you plan to go outside tomorrow. It’s very… unusual for our world to dress like that.”
He crosses his arms, looking at you sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Let’s just say you might get called Kabukimono again if you go out in your normal attire”
─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──
The warmth of the sun slowly brings you back to reality as you remember last night. For a second it felt like a dream, before you open your eyes and see him sitting on your couch, reading a book you had laying around somewhere.
You tried convincing Wanderer yesterday to also sleep for the night, even offering your bed to him, you’d take the less comfortable couch, but he refused, insisting that he’s a puppet that doesn’t need sleep. At least he agreed to not leave your room without you for now, until you figure out how to navigate the situation.
“Hey…” you mumble sleepily, he doesn’t even look up from his book.
“Morning.”
You yawn, sit up and rub your eyes. “I’ll make us some breakfast before we start figuring this out, any special wishes?”
Wanderer rolls his eyes and scoffs, reminding you “I don’t need to eat, just sustain your own mortal body.”
You still end up making food for two, offering him a plate. You know he technically doesn’t need to eat but it’s still weird not to make food for your guest. Well, involuntary guest. Of course, he doesn’t eat a bite. At least he keeps you company at the table.
“So. What do you even plan to do about this?” he asks skeptically.
You shrug. “I tried looking up similar stuff to what happened, but I couldn’t find anything useful so I was hoping the library would have something. The chances are low, though.”
You finish eating and put the plates away. He sighs “Still worth a shot, I guess.”
So you hand him a change of clothes from your brother (that he begrudgingly agreed to wear) and make your way to the library together.
─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──
You glance up and down the rows of bookshelves, overwhelmed. “What section do we even look in?” You rarely come here, so you’re kind of stumped.
“Definitely not sci-fi” Wanderer scoffs, arms crossed, the very thought irritates him.
You blink at him. “Wait– you know what sci-fi is? Also, why not? This feels exactly like sci-fi.”
He rolls his eyes. “Try nonfiction. We want to go for trustworthy sources, not bedtime stories.”
You keep scanning the nonfiction section for anything remotely fitting your situation, picking out a whole bunch of them. Supernatural encounters, unexplained phenomena, parallel worlds. By the end of it the two of you have a whole stack of literature to go through.
A few hours later you’re still stuck on the first one. The worst part: nothing useful. It’s not like you particularly want to get rid of Wanderer, in fact you’d love to keep him with you, but he wants to know about what happened so you will help him.
All this research is making you hungry though. It’s already late afternoon and you only had breakfast. You look up from your book, tugging at Wanderer’s sleeve.
“Hey, can we– God, you look pale. Are you okay?” he looks almost sickly pale, blinking a lot as if he’s struggling to stay present. You grip his shoulder, trying to keep him steady.
“I’m fine I just–” his body slumps forward. Panic knots in your chest and shake him lightly, increasing in urgency.
“Wanderer– Hey, wake up!! I thought you didn’t need to sleep– Hellooo?” You check his wrist for a pulse and– this idiot! He does have a human body. ‘I don’t need to sustain myself’ my ass.
You lift him onto the table, flat on his back. After a few minutes his eyes flutter open and he groans, his body exhausted and malnourished.
You don’t give him time to speak. “We’re getting food. Now. How could you not realise you have a human body in this world? Did you seriously notice no change?”
He looks at you with a puzzled expression. “Are you stupid? I told you, I’m–”
“Check your pulse. Then talk about stupid.” You cut in. You do feel bad talking to him like that, he just passed out, after all. But he’s not taking care of himself and you will not let that slide.
He hesitantly brings his fingers to his wrist, eyes opening wide as he feels the beat. He does have a pulse. He’s human. “This is… That’s why I was so tired all day. I thought that was just another fuckass thing about your weird world.”
“So, how does finally having a heart feel?” you muse. His cluelessness is admittedly cute. He gives you one of his sharp glares instead of an answer, then mumbling a quiet “Different. But not too bad.”
You push the stack of books aside, helping him sit up. “Come on, grumpy. Let’s get something to eat. You need to take care of yourself too now.”
He grumbles, but lets you haul him up. “Fine, but if you try to feed me anything sweet I’d rather starve to death.”
You roll your eyes. “Okay, noted.”
Researching what happened can wait, you have an idiot to feed first.
Synopsis: you know that your roommate isn't human, you just can't prove it yet...
Tags: fluff, crack, fast paced(?), implied tsundere!wanderer, implied fem!reader but no use of she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, English is not my first language, hastily beta-read by myself, lots of personal headcannons around wanderer's non-human features, reader pov, around 5k words
You've been incredibly worried about your roommate as of late.
You knew that it was completely unreasonable to worry about a capable adult, especially someone like Hat Guy who's known to be as tough as a rock, mentally and physically. No one gets through his barriers with ease- a known fact about him. Yet, as his roommate, who has been living with him for the past few months, you find it in your rights to fuss and worry about him as much as you wished, so you cared not about anything you were "supposed" to do.
The details were, small, in a sense. Subtle, negligible, stuff that you shouldn't notice as a sane person doing sane people things and not observing people like a hawk. Just, as a student of Amurta, you found it that you liked observing anyone's anatomy, regardless of their shape, size or form, and Hat Guy was no exception. It wasn't as if he wasn't pretty to look at, in fact, his face itself brought many a people to fawn over him, but that wasn't really the point.
Point was, after observing your dear roommate for so long, you found so many... Uncanny detailing on his character. As if he was posing within humanity as a skilled imposter. You didn't exactly want him to know that you knew about whatever was going on, mainly because you didn't at all. You considered yourself amateur in these regards, especially since Hat Guy was such an enigma. More importantly, he was like a cat, and you didn't want to be caught dangling your string for too long.
So here was your plan.
Alongside the usual papers and quills you bought for the Akademiya, that day, you decided to be a bit irresponsible with your money and buy a pricey notebook, imported from Fontaine. Not your greatest purchase, you knew, but you figured that it had a purpose, far greater than that it seemed...
"(Name), would you stop staring at me and finish your meal?"
You blinked. Right, you forgot that you were having dinner with him and were lost in your thoughts. He looked particularly annoyed, poking at his food with chopsticks (which you had no idea where he got), and his palm dragged over his forehead, covering his face and cheeks. And his cheeks, in question were a bright teal like the color of the Leylines. What the fuck.
"Sorry, just zoned out for a second."
"Tch."
Right, your little notebook that you bought would be dedicated to that pretty little roommate of yours, until you can muster the courage to confront him about his "non humanoid features". Either that, or he was actually ill and you were just an ass. Either way, you would collect features from him like a nasty detective, and hope he was none the wiser until whenever you yourself were ready.
Until then, you could start with your first entry you supposed.
...
Entry 1/0?
He doesn't like to eat all that much. Which, could just be me being paranoid, but considering that I've heard that he's a good fighter and that he doesn't eat that much food is really concerning. I'll ask him out for meals more often until I get more evidence.
Hat Guy stared at you for a moment, and then sighed with absolute exasperation, and you could only laugh awkwardly, averting your eyes from him.
"You want me to escort you to a friend's house?"
"Err, yes? Listen, I have a really important project I need to discuss with them-"
"It's practically midnight, what would be more important than that of your sleep?"
"... My grades?"
Hat Guy pinched the bridge of his nose, as if trying his absolute best to police his expression to one of neutrality. You couldn't exactly blame him either, if a crazy roommate of yours were to ask you to escort them to somewhere decently far away in the middle of the night of all places, you'd crash out harder than your roommate. He had the patience of a saint with you, and you weren't sure if that were to be considered as a good thing or bad thing.
"I mean- you have a vision, you seem strong, and I'm scared to go out at night, alone?" Attempting your best to reason with him, but your negotiation skills weren't exactly as subpar as you'd hoped.
"You're just listing off things you know about me." He sighed, and you huffed.
"Good characteristics! You're blessed by a god with strength and a vision, I think I have the right to list those things."
"Whatever you say (Name)." He rolled his eyes, and irritation flared up your spine. Couldn't even accept your meager request now could he? How annoying.
"Look, if you're not willing to escort me, I'll just ask another friend of mine-"
"No I'll go."
You raised an brow immediately. That's all it took? Really? All your attempts at swaying him to come accompany you were come undone as soon as you mentioned another person. How prideful, you muttered, before grabbing your shoes and tying them, Hat Guy right behind you. His gaze pierced your back, and you found yourself squirming in the slightest. Seriously, his gaze was so intense. It's like he didn't blink at all.
"Shall we go then?"
"Must you be so impatient?" You sighed, tying your last lace before promptly standing up, your bag on shoulder and hands in your pockets.
The walk was eerily quiet, especially for a bustling city like Sumeru. However, you digress, there was no reason for a place to be active and all all day every day for no reason at all. Sumeru wasn't that kind of place, and the closest you could think to that kind of Elysium was Mondstadt, you would think, with its overt motifs of freedom and wine.
Hat Guy was usually a fast walker, however, he was kind enough to slow down to your pace, which was odd. Most times he would sneer at anyone who asked him to stop so that they could catch up, but he was awfully lenient with you, which was... Interesting. You're not sure if you're supposed to write that down in your journal or not. In the midst of all that walking however, the inherent awkwardness of the quiet was enough to string your nerves on a merry loop until all you could do was avert your eyes to and away from him every now and then.
You really needed a conversation topic. Otherwise, you're pretty sure that you'd spontaneously combust.
"Soo Hat Gu-"
"Don't call me that."
You stared, pertrubed. What does he even mean by that?! Registering in the Sumeru Akademiya by the name Hat Guy, not bothering to correct anyone either, and he wants to go around with a prissy attitude over you calling him Hat Guy. His mood swings were far too unpredictable for you to catch up over him, and you were honestly going to wring his neck (figuratively) if he were to speak in another riddle.
"And why is that?" You grumbled, now that you were the one forcing to keep your facial contortions to a minimum.
"I prefer you call me Wanderer."
... Okay, not what you expected.
"And wh-"
"It sounds strange when you say it. We're not exactly strangers now are we? No reason to keep calling me that ridiculous nickname."
"Ohoh but the Traveler calls you Hat Guy just fine," you stared directly into his eyes, and he, like an asshole, decided to roll them 360 right in front of you, as if you were an inconvenience. What an asshole!
"Consider this an honour then," he smiled, no, smirked for a bit, before lightly shoving you so that he could use his hat to cover his face like he always does. You huffed, how rude was that? Though, you were never one to listen to him that easily, as despite the large hat preventing you from overcoming the gap, your hand, deft and curious, grabbed a hold of his wrist, and you could only grin to his look of annoyance.
"What?"
"Mmm, it's the middle of the night and I'm so scared!" You batted your lashes, exaggerating your expression to one that was embarrassing worthy. "You're seriously gonna push off a scared, unassuming person like me?" Your voice etched to a whine, an annoying one, and you grinned in absolute pleasure when Wanderer looked at you with disgust.
"Whatever," he huffed, yet didn't pull away from your touch. The fingers on your hand wrapped around the juncture of his wrist, and-
You almost fumbled with your voice again. His wrist was a doll joint? Not the thing you expected to find, but then again it could have been a prosthetic. But also, he seemed to be able to move about his limb with not so much as a struggle one would usually see with a prosthetic. Granted, he could've had it for a long time but...
"We're here."
You blinked, staring up at the building in front of you before stepping away from him. You swore you felt him stiffen, but couldn't exactly tell what made him do so. Finally, turning around to face him, you felt his blank gaze on you, staring with an unreadable poker face that had you reeling.
"Don't wait for me, I'll probably stay the night."
"I'll make breakfast when you come back."
"Aww so you do care about me!"
"Tch," and he began walk off into the distance, holding the brim of his hat closer to his face.
Entry 2
His joints are similar to those Inazuman puppets that I saw once. Possible prosthetic? But there would've been a clear marking on where it was. Certainly though, it does match with the doll like face he puts upon sometimes, when he gets scarily blank...
Wanderer's grip on your waist tightened, and you could only stick your tongue out at him, holding your notes with the pads of your fingers brushing against the pages.
"Tell me why I agreed on helping you document the wildlife..."
"Because you love me," you hummed, almost breaking out in a panic when he nearly dropped you. This man!
Eventually, the two of you reached an acceptable altitude and ended up on the thick branches of a giant tree. The spores and mushrooms growing on the wood looked fascinating, and who were you to refuse sketching them a little? Wanderer, irritable as he was, only sighed and leaned against the trunk.
"Couldn't have asked anyone else..." He scoffed, though with your PHD in Hat Guy- language, you could tell that there was no real bite to his words.
"Oh nooo, I actually couldn't. Who else could carry me around place to place while flying?" You quipped back, sarcasm evident in your tone. He raised a brow, but you were already back to sketching the mushrooms to pay attention to him any longer. Seriously, with how convenient it was you might just make him carry you around all the time, with adequate compensation with your mora of course. Or you could just haggle him for his services.
"What assignment is your documentation even based on anyway?"
Now that piqued your interest. Hat Guy- sorry, Wanderer, asking about your studies? Well, who were you to deny him the pleasure that was to be on the receiving end of your ramblings.
"We're supposed to just use the mushrooms and find out their genetic composition and how and where they can be used alchemically, but I'm jotting down the appearances too since that might be a correlation to how useful they will be in creating potions. In any case-"
You talked on and on, zoning out sometimes and cursing under your breath when your pencil was a bit out of place. Wanderer had the decency to nod along methodically when you mentioned the important points. He looked bored, if you had to be completely honest with yourself, but every once in a while you caught a small grin on his face. Ugh, he was definitely going to use your rambling against you someday with that cheeky look on his face, but hey, at least someone was listening to you.
You shifted your posture, making sure to keep your appropriate distance from the fungi as you adjusted your sketchbook in your hands. Frankly enough, your drawings were already done, and you were just about to put your stuff back into your bag-
Before you turned around and realized that it was gone, and was actively falling off the branch.
Shit! That had contained some expensive vials! And syringes! And randomized equipment that the blood rushing to your ears wasn't helping you make out.
A long, irritated (though definitely not as strong) sigh dragged on before Wanderer grabbed his hat and activated his vision.
"Stay here," he grumbled, before flying off to your stuff that you'd die a million times for.
Oh what a glorious sight it was, seeing him fly so gracefully with his vision. You mourned not having any, but what you were mourning more was the fact that you weren't the one flying over. You'd be the one to know how delicate it was and how to decidedly handle it, and while you definitely trusted Wanderer with your life, you didn't exactly look forward to seeing broken glass amongst your other belongings. At least he was kind enough to pick up your bag, in the Akademiya budgeting is more important than ever (an irony, if you had to take a look at your irresponsible purchases, but then again who were you to deny the notebook?).
Your gaze remained locked onto him in spite of the anxiety pooling in your gut, and you practically winced out loud (spoiler, you did yelp in absolute panic) when a branch snagged against his forearm and punctured it.
You prayed to every god you knew that you still carried a first aid kit.
Strangely enough, your eyes must've been playing tricks on you because you did not see any of the usual crimson that one would usually get from an injury of this level. Then again, you did think about him having a prosthetic...
In less than a minute, he came back up to you, holding your bag incredulously and applying pressure on his wound.
"Holy shit- let me see that, I probably have a bandage or two somewhere..." You all but grabbed your bag, careful to not fall down the tree yourself, and were about to drag his arm too before he quickly pulled away with a shocking stiffness.
"No, just-" he sucked in a breath, and you had to keep the exclaim of surprise to yourself when you saw his injury covered by his palm and digits.
There was not red flowing down his limb, but a teal blue liquid similar to that of the branches of the Leylines, certainly matching his weird coloring on his cheeks earlier.
Why the fuck was his arm embedded with Irminsul??
"Just hand me something, I can handle it myself."
Right, right. You fumbled with the zipper and carelessly tossed him a linen bandage roll. You'd have to deal with the shocking revelations later. For now, you just checked your supplies.
Syringes? No issues.
Vials? Surprisingly nothing broken.
Your ink bottles? You grimaced when some of it had leaked into your bag, but the stain wasn't visible from the outside so that was good enough for you.
By the time you glanced back at Wanderer, he was already holding his hand back out for you, arm covered in a bandage and clearly waiting for you to hop on so you could fly away. You shoved in your other supplies, quickly taking a sample of the mushroom before taking the liberty to climb into his back. In no way were you allowing him to carry you in his arms while he was injured. He only sighed before securing you and flying away.
Well, at least a new diary entry for you.
Entry 3
Okay, so it's either my prosthetic theory or he's just a freak who has Irminsul blood for some reason. And in any case, why would he even have the Leylines as a source of energy for his prosthetic?? He's either rich or he's a freak of nature. Maybe he's both and I'm just the dumb one
The distinct hum and thrum of the Sumeru bazaar rolled off of your ears as you glared at the two pieces of fabric in your hands, both glinting beautifully in the sunlight with their golden embroidery and stitches. The hot weather was making you ansty, and the very annoyed Wanderer right beside you was even more so.
"Just choose an outfit, it literally cannot be that hard."
"Just say you're an uncultured buffoon if you say "it literally cannot be that hard". It is that difficult!"
He grumbled under his breath, and you would keep glaring if it weren't for the fact that even the stall owner was far more irritated than usual and wanted you gone just as you wanted yourself gone.
Your friend's wedding was coming up though, and you were not going to disappoint with a lackluster choice.
"I can't wear red, that's for the bride. Fatima said she was wearing green, and then Aditiya said she was wearing pink..."
"Why do you even bother with what others are wearing?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, and you sighed with such disturbance that at least his whining stopped. You aren't sure if you can handle anything more.
"For the good pictures duh." You huffed, staring down at the kameez. Too many colors for you. Too many to decide.
"Just pick teal," he muttered back, and you raised a brow.
"What? I am your plus one, after all. I have enough teal in my closet for us to be matching."
That's...
Huh.
"Looks like you're right for something after all Wanderer," you picked up a teal one, and you swore that the stall owner hadn't been happier when your decision making was finally coming to a close.
"I'm always right."
"Whatever you say my dear," you rolled your eyes when prompted, and grabbed the bag as soon as you could before dragging him along with you just for shade. The sun was boiling you alive and you would be a mess of human soup on the pavement if you didn't cool off like right now. Wanderer luckily didn't complain either. He was either sick of the sun like you were, or the "obnoxious amount of people" as he would call it.
Finally, finding a wooden seat underneath a canopy of leaves, you dragged him to sit down, murmuring about the pain in your ankle. He offered to massage it (which was weirdly nice of him), but you declined. You were just going to. Sit. And not think for a while. Your forehead was hot and you were sweaty and-
You glanced up at him, sitting right beside you and fiddling with the handles of the bags. He seemed relaxed, despite the sun glaring down at all of you, and your jaw nearly dropped when you realized that not a single speck of his clothes were dotted with sweat, or anything of the liquidy sort. Worst of all, when you stared at his eyes, indigo and pretty and light as they were, his pupils didn't even dilate or change. Human pupils were supposed to be smaller to not absorb as much light when they were already in an area with ample illumination, and his pupils were the same as they were when the two of you had been in the house, making sure to block any outside view with curtains.
Theory number two, freak if nature or another prosthetic eyeball that was far too advanced for that of Teyvat.
Unfortunately for you, he seemed to have noticed your staring, and quirked a subsequent brow.
"What?"
"I uhm," shit, you were not going to talk about his definitely non human qualities out in the open. "I'm thirsty."
There! Not even a lie at least, your throat was parched, and judging by the raspy tone of your voice he likely believed you too. He sighed before standing up, placing the bags in your lap.
"I'll go get you a drink, wait here."
And that was that. He was gone, off to another sweltering part of the bazaar. You were left to your thoughts, mumbling to yourself. And you realized that you would have another diary entry to write in.
Entry 4
Somehow doesn't sweat?? I'd kill for that actually, not being able to smell like shit sounds amazing. And his pupils don't dilate in the light, meaning they don't dilate in the dark, meaning that I have no idea how to continue on with this. Whoever crafted him must've been good though, if I weren't actively looking for him I probably wouldn't have noticed, like at all. Maybe being a creep does help sometimes.
By now you've gotten uncannily good at noticing every non human aspect of him.
Like when the two of your were cooking together his fingers didn't leave prints on the dough, or how the more you realize it the more it seems like he never blinks, or how whenever you touched his hair very faint bits of purple dye stained your palm, which if you hadn't been looking for you wouldn't notice. You felt stupid for not noticing for this long.
Also how his hair never grows, nor does his nails. His skin is relatively similar to human one, but if you paid enough attention it was slightly wood like and felt more like rubber than actual, human skin made with collagen and your typical cells.
You weren't sure if that was you being a creep, or him being obvious.
Your entries have increased substantially, and so the worn pages and leather covering became more apparent with your fingerprints. You've grown to be sneakier when it comes to hiding your journal away from your roommate, especially after his scrutinizing and oddly curious gaze on your notes. It was only a matter of time until he found out what was in all of that. You'd know, you'd obviously know. For someone who's trying to appear closed off and standoffish, he's relatively horrible at remaining to do so against his dear roommate. You could feel the burn of his stare whenever you hid your notebook from him.
So, you'd very much like to do the whole confrontation about him not being a human at your own languid pace without the said object of confrontation ruining your plans.
Of course, that's when things went to absolute shit.
...
"And what might this be?"
There was Wanderer, holding your notebook, bare and open right in front of you, and even you knew by then that any attempt to keep yourself to neutrality was fairly futile. Your shoulders slumped, cheeks flushing with embarrassment at being caught onto so easily.
"You know what..."
"I do," he hummed, flipping through another page, causing you to squirm in your place firmly planted by your feet. "Just want to hear what you'd say about it."
"Are you mad?"
"Hey, I'm the one asking questions right now. You'd do good in learning something called "taking turns in a conversation"," he scoffed, sarcasm dripping down his tone. Surprisingly enough, he didn't sound particularly hostile, just curious.
"I mean-" you began, losing all of your words in a span of two seconds no less. "This is- uhm.."
"Go on now," he kept flipping through the pages and you squirmed harder. It was three in the morning, he shook you awake when you had neither coffee nor tea in your system like you usually did, but as soon as he spoke of the notebook you shot up so fast that you gave yourself a headache. Now, your apparent sleep deprivation was speaking to you, and hallucinations were probably dotting across your vision. You still kept rubbing your eyes at the itchy feeling of an eyelash in your cornea, and you vaguely felt as if confrontations weren't meant to be done as early as the ass crack of dawn.
"I was uh-" come on (Name), you could do it, probably, "worried about you?" You settled on instead. The way his gaze immediately locked onto you in absolute confusion would've been funny if it weren't for the fact that you were still trying to convince yourself that he was a really convincing hallucination in front of you.
"Look, you don't eat much, blink much, heck even breathe much. When you blush, your skin is fucking blue-" he sucked in a breath at that, a long, long breath. "-and you're generally just a weirdo. You can't blame me for being worried!"
"And you couldn't have just asked?"
Right, now your stalkerish tendencies were being put into trial, how great. "Would you have answered?"
"Fair enough."
"And besides- you don't even look like you mind me being creepy! Don't tell me you're into it just because it includes me looking out for you like a normal, concerned human being."
The silence was absolutely palpable, and you wanted nothing more than to just slap yourself and curl into the corner of the room, morphing with the wall and talking to your dear friend hallucinations.
"Don't tell me-"
"Just continue on!" His face was that distinct, desaturated teal/blue again, which, in your PHD for the body language of Wanderer (now updated), meant that he was blushing. Oh you were so going to bring this up to him later. But that also meant fighting through the three am sleepiness and attempting to maintain a semblance of a civil conversation instead of you gaping around for words.
"So, as a concerned roommate would do, I began investigating-"
"Stalking, you mean."
"Is it really stalking if it's just stuff I noticed when we were out together?"
He huffed. "Continue."
"And that's lead to this whole fiasco or whatever. The whole "I'm not human" thing was, no wait, is? Quite obvious already, so all I'm asking is what the actual fuck you actually are, my guesses are doll, puppet or some weird freaky Mecha from Fontaine. Or Khanriah, that works too."
"Take a guess."
"Ooo never thought that dear old Wanderer would be fun enough to indulge in a guessing game." Right, sleep deprivation was definitely affecting you by a mile. "I'm guessing puppet."
"You would guess correct."
"Huh, guess I'm a genius even at half-lucid state."
He rolled his eyes. At least, you think he did. "Don't flatter yourself that much now (Name)."
"Now for my question, since you practically ignored it in favor of yours," you attempted to make a sound similar to a scoff but your vocal cords failed you enough for even you to not know what you were on about. "Are you mad for what you'd call "stalking"?"
He hummed for a bit, finally placing the notebook down. You took the moment to really look at him, his unusually messed up hair, pursed lips, desaturated and yet colored cheeks. It was an odd state for someone as cool headed as Wanderer, but maybe it wasn't so bad to look at; at least he seemed more human in a way, even if he wasn't."
"Surprisingly enough, no."
Alarm bells rang in your head, "what do you mean no?"
"Imagine if I was the one taking notes on you about every single aspect that made you different than others, how would you feel?"
"I- huh... I guess confused? Flattered? I mean if they care enough to pay attention to me that's actually quite invigorating but I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be creeped out or not since it technically counts as being creepy..."
"Pay attention to your own words now."
And- oh.
"Question is, are you confused or are you flattered?" You teased. At least, you think you did.
Now, it seems like he stopped to think, really think about your words. Because really, he should have known himself, and the fact that he didn't was extremely concerning to know of.
But with the amount of time it was taking it was getting ridiculous.
"How about this-" you kept your voice tight, carefully neutral, to make sure you were not giving out your true intentions. "We go out on an outing," already you could feel his skeptical gaze on you, "and you'd tell me all about whether or not I need to back the fuck off or just do what I usually do in these situations and not change myself whatsoever. Clarification is extremely important you know."
A beat.
Then, a long, drawn out exhale pierced your ears, shaky as it was and all. His eyes finally met yours, and you swore, that even with his unmoving pupils he was intending to pierce into your soul.
"Are you asking me out on a date?"
Well, busted.
"Think of all the bragging rights I could get if rumor spread that I went out on a date with the Hat Guy," you snickered, attempting to lighten the mood.
"Just for the bragging rights?"
"Hmm, now that I think about it I'm not sure if being hit by books by your hoards of fangirls would be worth the date..."
His dumbfounded expression was always a sight for sore eyes, if only to laugh your ass off for. Wiping a tear from the eyelids, you crossed your arms across your chest, waiting indefinitely for his answer, which he likely forgot about in favor of staring at you like you belonged at an insane asylum.
"So is that a yes or no?"
He stayed awfully quiet, lost in thought for a moment. The facade he wore like a wall practically crumbled, and now you could truly admire the sight of blaring moonlight illuminating his cheeks, brow and hair. He'd make for an awfully pretty portrait, you'd have to find a chance to sketch him sometime.
And, your knowledge on Hat Guy-pedia remained stronger than ever, because you always knew what silence meant in his language.
"Meet me is Puspa cafe tomorrow evening, wear something nice if you want," you languidly stretched, yawning in the meanwhile, and your roommate only regained his sarcasm and scoffed, turning you away and telling you to catch up on sleep.
This was the strangest confrontation in your life, not necessarily a bad one however. At least you got a date out of it.
....
I reached the picture limit for this 😭 anygays tagging my wanderer lover moots @karmamira @sleepylilacx @kithewanderingme
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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.”
When Wanderer finds himself in the predicament of chasing away a mortal girl who seems to stick closely to him, even when he is being bitter and cold. What happens when he's nice?
warnings/tags: fluff, wan being mean, wan being in denial, crushes (both ways?), mc who has issues - implied trauma/relationship abuse (yeah that took a turn)
wc: 2.8k
chuu's note: based on this post of mine ! also if u get the teen wolf ref ily. this is all in wan's perspective cos I wanted to write a pt 2 in mc's perspective but that may never see the light of day
"Quit following me!" Wanderer snaps, glaring at the girl who flinches on command before stilling herself. She stares at him, wide eyed - he hated those eyes of hers, they were irritatingly mesmerising to look at.
She was the same girl who would regularly walk under his designated tree that he sat on during breaks after long, torturous hours spent inside Akademiya lecture theatres. The girl he also shared a fair few of those Archon-awful classes with.
But she’s broken the boundary of a mere classmate already.
She was more than that now.
She was a pest, someone who kept bothering him no matter where he went.
Someone who had confessed her liking towards him, one too many times. But Wanderer wasn’t one for petty things like ‘love’ or ‘romance’, Wanderer was distinctively clear with himself that he would never harbour such a feeling in the eternity he lives in.
Even if they were as beautiful as the false sky above him, even if they treated the animals gently when no one was looking. Even if they had eyes as mesmerising as the-
"I'm sorry-" you begin, but the words make Wanderer roll his eyes as he turns back around to stomp away.
Truthfully, he hated hearing those words - apologies were always so easy to speak of, but they never truly solved anything. He would know better than anyone else - he had an eternity to atone for his sins. If a simple apology fixed all of that he had damaged, the burden he shoulders every second would be far easier to manage.
"When you say it that many times, you render the very meaning useless. What is it this time? Be on with it already and leave" he grumbles – he’s heard you apologise almost as frequently as your visits.
"I was just wondering if you could help-" your voice speaks a little more meekly and Wanderer stops himself from wincing at the way he shuts you down immediately.
"No"
"But-"
Wanderer lets out a long and deep sigh as he turns back around, so fast that you bump into him - knocking your head in the process.
He scowls at the foreign expression you’re wearing, you almost looked a little pitiful this time round.
Nonetheless, he takes one step back to keep a fair distance. His arms crossed as he quirks one brow upward, "Wanna hear it in Inazuman? いやだ!"
When he sees you’ve shut your mouth closed that instant, he knows the conversation has ended. Before he can see your eyes turn glossy, he’s already on his way.
He hates that his chest pangs as if he’s capable of having a heart.
He doesn’t understand you at all.
You keep coming back, no matter how terribly he treats you.
"Seriously, you failed? Since when did you get so bad at... never mind. Guess you really are hopeless after all. Perhaps you should repeat the year instead?"
The words leave his mouth without a second thought, and he’s already regretting his condescending tone when he sees the way you've swallowed thickly.
You blink away at the moisture building up in your eyes and shake your head.
"I hope I don't. If I do... we won’t be in the same classes anymore"
Wanderer can’t help but scoff into a smile, there you were again, replying to his cruel words with something sickeningly sweet. As if his cruelty only made you like him more.
"Then I hope you do" he mumbles, leaving your side.
It was odd.
You were quite good in your academics. The sudden shift in your grades was certainly surprising to even Wanderer. He finds himself thinking about it a little too long. Perhaps your request last time wasn’t to bother him, it was for support with the exam.
Wanderer sighs, feeling his chest ache at the thought – he dismissed you as if you were a fly.
And yet, despite it all, you continued to come back.
You continued to smile in front of him.
It made him feel awful.
"If she likes you for how you treat her now, perhaps that’s exactly why fuel's her desire, no?" Nahida sounds ever so much like a child when she speaks, but the depth of her words always seem to pierce through Wanderer. He didn’t know why he felt so compelled to seek Nahida’s assistance, perhaps he was just needing more clarity – mentally, of course.
"You’re telling me she willingly enjoys being berated by someone she likes?" Wanderer deadpans, only to see Nahida's green beady eyes staring expectedly at him. That woman never changed her expressions, it drove him insane. But what drove him to the very brink of insanity, was that her logic was fair.
"That’s absurd"
"Love is a complicated emotion, child" Nahida says as if she is all knowing and Wanderer scoffs loudly at the use of the word "child". She certainly got a rise out of speaking like that, even when she was a mere baby of a god compared to the rest.
Wanderer thinks about you and the way you don’t seem to falter or back down whenever he throws a snarky remark your way – snarkier than usual, constructed with the purpose of driving you away.
Yet you come back, every time.
“You know. You’ve known.” Nahida speaks up to halt his memories of you – and with the tone of her words, Wanderer feels almost ashamed, “You’ve just chosen to ignore that possibility”.
He wasn’t being scolded, but, he understands her words a little too dearly.
He has known. He has chosen to ignore the possibility that a pure and sweet mortal could ever be capable of twisting their liking towards something this terrifying. Cruelty.
Something about that very notion, it troubled him, deeper than he could ever admit. Because it reminded him of himself – Kabukimono.
“Why don’t you try be nice to her? I’m sure you’ll gain a new result – one you’re looking for” her voice is softer now, as is her gaze towards Wanderer, “Or perhaps, you may find that it’s not”
Wanderer looks away – Nahida was a god after all – she may even be the smartest out of all of them and the heavenly principles combined. She could see right through him, even without her powers.
"Hat guy..." a new voice startles Wanderer into a scowl.
"I thought I told you its bad manners to eavesdrop, Durin" Wanderer narrows his eyes at the little boy who has his hands up as if he was being arrested. He shakes his head frantically,
"I wasn’t! I was in the room, you just didn’t notice"
"You blended yourself into the wall, don’t get cheeky with me"
As Wanderer flops himself onto his bed, he stares up at the ceiling above him, dazed. He remembers your face like it’s etched into his memory – as if it’s haunting him, even when you’re still alive and well. Somehow, every image he has of you renders him completely helpless.
“I like you” you spoke bravely to him, after many, many failed attempts at getting him to come down from the tree he leisurely sat on.
He knew it took a lot of effort since you were still quite meek, despite your spurts of courage every now and then.
Mortals, they were incredibly determined when they needed to be – he remembered that thought as he looked at your eyes, bright as a flame.
But a confession like that was something of nightmares to Wanderer, especially from someone as sweet and tender as you. A girl who was just as kind to the grass she stepped on, as she were with the care she places on her friends and family.
Wanderer knew everything about everyone in the Akademiya. There wasn’t a name that he didn’t recognise. He wouldn’t let that be known to anyone, but he paid attention, always. There was little to learn in the curriculum anyway, especially after having lived through the history they’re all learning about.
It was a pastime of his to observe how mortals were – each one was special, different. They were beautiful creatures, even if they harboured uglier spectrum of emotions, and made mistakes that even fools could avoid.
Mistakes like confessing their affection to a puppet who holds no heart.
He remembers the way you looked worriedly at him amidst his silence.
Surely, you weren’t expecting too much, but you must have not been expecting the face he made that moment – as if his entire soul had left him.
“You wasted my time for a lousy confession? How disgusting-”
Wanderer cringes at the memory, scrunching his eyes closed as he turns into his pillow. He doesn’t take back his actions – the words were a calculated attempt at pushing you away.
Your face, you didn’t look at all upset. In fact, you were trying to hold back a shy smile – as if you’d been complimented. You looked even prettier–
Wanderer groans again, throwing the pillow once under his head, away from his grasp with an angry speed. Only, it doesn’t land at all.
At the lack of noise, he sits up to see a smaller figure in front of him, clutching onto the pillow. His eyes, round and innocent, his horns sitting tall and proud as always.
“Durin? What are you doing here?”
It was past midnight now, it was well past Durin’s assigned curfew.
Durin’s fingers grip onto the pillow a little tighter when Wanderer motions him to come closer.
“Are you upset about something?” Durin’s voice was meek, it softened Wanderer all at once.
“I didn’t know you were there, I’m sorry. I threw it to hit the wall, not you.” Wanderer mumbles and Durin nods. Durin makes himself comfortable atop Wanderer’s bed, he’s quiet, but Wanderer knows the boy well enough to know he was dying to speak about something.
When they first met, Wanderer barked about his chatty attitude one too many times – it resulted to Durin growing quiet, asking with his eyes as permission to speak. He’s wanted to undo that habit for some time now, but it hasn’t worked.
“Go on” he prompts, falling back onto bed as Durin’s eyes light up a bit.
“About this person. Don't you think... that maybe there's a problem with her?"
Wanderer regrets giving the dragon any chance to speak. He doesn’t regret barking about his chatty nature either.
"Of course there's a problem, she’s deluded" he huffs, feeling the mattress dip a little as Durin lays beside him. Wanderer scoffs as the little boy makes himself comfortable under the sheets.
"Maybe... maybe that’s what was taught to her. Love is cruel, unstable..." Durin shakes his head from side to side, there's a certain sadness in his eyes, "my brother Albedo told me humans attach to what’s familiar to them"
"Don’t concern yourself with my issues. You're thinking too much."
Wanderer doesn’t want to discuss the very real possibility with Durin since it holds a lot more darkness than he may have imagined. For now, Wanderer pats onto the little boys head, before ushering him to sleep.
Even though Durin was new to Teyvat, there was one thing Wanderer knew well about him. That Durin was a smart boy.
And Durin was right.
Over the next few weeks, Wanderer employs the thinking of Lesser Lord Kusanali. And her words truly do prove her status as the ‘goddess of Wisdom’.
He speaks to you with a sickly sweet smile, and doesn’t so much as lose his temper – not even once. Sometimes, his own words made him want to throw up, but he’s even more startled with the way you reflect the very same expression as him.
You look the picture of someone who’s encountered an unfathomable stench.
“I really liked your discussion in class. You should speak up more, you’re incredibly bright”
Of course, none of it was a lie – you were incredibly insightful, but it was the way in which Wanderer spoke that was entirely foreign to you.
He watches as your eyebrows scrunch a little, taking in the compliments as if they were shards of glass, sharp, and difficult to digest.
He doesn’t think he’s seen you like this, ever.
Wanderer smirks when you leave, albeit, sweetly farewelling him, he can tell you won’t be returning to pester him again.
At least not willingly.
Wanderer doesn't believe he has ever felt excited to enter into his shared class with you, but today, he’s itching to see how you may avoid his expectant gaze.
A gaze he never truly ever bothered casting on you, till you so recently stopped visiting him during breaks.
He had successfully driven you away. For good, he believes.
He’s simply relishing the fruits of his labour, of course.
That is, until his professor introduces the final assignment; one of Wanderer’s least favourite – group projects. To make matters worse, his professor has even gone through the trouble of assigning groups himself.
And to Wanderer’s luck, he’s ended up with the one person he’s been trying to drive away.
When the groups are finalised, everyone moves to sit next to their groupmates.
Everyone flocks to Wanderer, knowing well he won’t move first - and though Wanderer isn’t all too sociable himself, he’s gained a higher standing as one of the brightest in the class. And by nature, many are attracted to the thought of befriending someone intelligent, especially when given the opportunity to, served on a golden platter.
But Wanderer isnt all too fussed about the chatter as his new groupmates seat themselves beside him. He instead watches as you slow your steps down so you end up last at the table, a lousy trick so you could sit furthest away from him.
Though it was satisfying seeing you avoid him, Wanderer couldn’t help but drive the nail in further. Just for assurance.
Wanderer smiles sweetly at you, and you flinch on the spot, giving him an uncomfortably awkward smile back – it was clear you didn’t want this as much as him.
And that in itself, was a rather satisfying sight for Wanderer.
During discussions, you don’t even look at him for more than a second, and you’re quick to leave the classroom when the lesson ends.
On one occasion, he watches as you drop all your papers during yet another attempt to try to leave first.
He holds back a scoff and crouches down to help you.
You mumble a small apology and shakily reach for one of the papers. Wanderer’s eyes narrow in at your bare wrist that was revealed when your sleeve pulls up. Then, his eyes then trail to the papers in his hands, and he looks over at you quizzically,
“You’re failing? Still?”
You grow hot that moment and reach for the test papers, only to be held still. You wince a little and Wanderer is quick to soften his grip, “What happened?”
“bruised it from hitting a wall” you reply quickly, as if you’ve had it prepared, “and I’m not failing, yet”
Wanderer doesn’t want to let go, but he feels his chest ache all of a sudden. A terrible feeling that churns inside of him. Something felt off.
You know. You’ve always known.
Nahida’s words ring into Wanderer’s ears once again and he can’t shake it away anymore. He’s known this. Something is off.
Something was always off with you.
The next day Wanderer sees you stood in the gardens of the Akademiya. Instinctively, he shrinks into the branch he was sat on as if he’d be spotted, even though you were a fair distance away.
Even though you’re clearly no longer interested in him at all.
He narrows his eyes at the way your head is bowed down – your hair falling across your face.
He couldn’t quite get a gauge of your expression. But one thing that made him still, was the way your hands shook at your sides.
Wanderer finds himself getting up from his seated position, only to stop at the sight of a hand. He realises you’re not alone. Behind the tree must've been another figure – from this angle, Wanderer just couldn’t see it.
But he definitely saw the way the hand reached out the base of your neck and then up to the bottom of your scalp.
The fingers grip onto your hair harshly, pulling at you to look up.
Wanderer feels himself grow hot with anger till he scans your expression that was now visible.
You looked fine. In fact, you didn’t look distressed at all.
An unease settles across Wanderers body, with Durin’s words replaying back over and over again.
Humans attach to what’s familiar to them; love is cruel, unstable.
And with the way you've let yourself be kissed by whatever monster that stood in front of you, Wanderer understands it all.
Mortals. They were terribly foolish creatures.
And perhaps this time, he too will learn to be foolish.
Foolish enough to get involved.
Foolish enough to be brave.
Foolish enough to change your fate.
chuu's note: yeah, look... this as meant to be funny and lighthearted but when I was writing I was like, "hang on... why IS mc like this? lets give her some trauma" <3
but in all realness, I feel weirdly anxious posting which is weird cos I don't ever feel anxious... idk. maybe its cos its the first time I haven't been consistent w posting but I hope that feeling goes away cos I feel so yuck rn. anyways. goodbye~ pt2 may never see the light of day btw <3
Some fluffy Scaramouche for the soul :) also, I want to see him at a fast-food restaurant. I think he'd go to Subway.
Scara has a potty mouth. 1.5K for word count. Divider by @saradika-graphics.
Your sullen, introverted boyfriend feels more like a shadow than a person. Quiet, sitting in his dark room playing some video game… you’d think he were a ghost if not for how much he complains.
Yes, he has no issues chewing you out when he thinks his coffee is too sweet – not that you can control the sugar levels in UHT milk. Telling him this only earns you an irritated sigh and an eyeroll. He, in fact, enjoys berating his coworkers loudly over the phone. No qualms has he about insulting people, to the point your parents have requested not to bring him over for family celebrations, to keep the peace. He comes anyway. Just to see the petrified looks on their faces, and laugh right at the doorstep.
And yet.
You’re both sitting in the drive-through of some fast-food chain restaurant. You have one hand on the steering wheel, trying to remain level-headed as you repeat your order for the fifth time. Clearly, this employee has other things on their mind. Your other half, the love of your life, groans, then hisses as his avatar drops to the floor, clutching their chest.
“How much longer, I’ve had to lose to this thing six times already.” It’s not a question, so you don’t answer, patiently explaining into the mic that no, you don’t want to participate in the loyalty scheme, you just want two burgers and a milkshake, one with no pickles. The employee stutters out that there aren’t any pickles in the milkshake.
After what feels like an age, you pay for the food and pull off as fast as you can.
“I’m fucking tired.”
You sigh. “I know, Scara.”
“My stomach is killing me.”
You sigh again. “I know, Scara.”
With no small amount of frustration, he tears open the bag, fully intending to go ham on his poor cheeseburger. He takes a hefty bite, pauses, then begins to gag.
“Oh my—oh my God? Are you choking?” His face turns puce, and you gasp, slamming a hand between his shoulderblades whilst trying to keep control of the steering wheel. “I’ll get you to the emergency department, hold on!”
He gurgles, scrabbling inside the bag, and pulls out a wad of tissues, spitting vehemently and coughing. Slowly, his face turns from purple to green. He mumbles something, barely audible, and you strain to hear him.
“Pickles…” Right. That.
“They put pickles in your sandwich? Again?” He nods, looking for all the world like a cat pulled from a lake, sopping wet and sad. It could have been funnier: the meanest person you know hates pickles so much, he refuses to eat from a plate that’s had pickles on it because he can still smell the vinegar, even after dousing it in detergent. Life works in strange ways. Maybe it’s his karmic debt for being an asshole.
“You can put them in my sandwich—” Predictably, he shakes his head, not that you expected anything different. “Come on. What will you eat? We don’t have any groceries, either…”
“It’s… it’s fine. I’ve lost my appetite from that awful experience.” He clears his throat, trying to reassemble the scraps of his dignity into something shapely. Which doesn’t work. You have too much dirt on him to respect his supercilious act.
“Dinner’s gonna be late tonight,” you remind him. “We have to go unpack, remember?” He crosses his arms, glaring at the glovebox.
“I’ll be fine. I’ve done worse.” You know he has. Which is exactly why you decide to do what you do next.
You swerve hard enough that he drops his phone, eyes widening. “Are you crazy?” he hisses. “You could’ve crashed!” You don’t reply, speeding right into the car park of the fast food restaurant. Now his eyes are bulging out of his head. “Wait—”
You exit the car, offending bag of food in hand, and he unbuckles his seatbelt. “Wait! It’s fine, I can put up with it!” he yells. You ignore him (somewhat of a recurrent theme for you), opening the glass door, forcing him to run after you.
“Come on, don’t embarrass me…” You stop cold in your tracks, turning to him.
“Did we specify no pickles?” Your tone is authoritative and calm: he’s never heard you like this before.
“Yes, but—” You show him the receipt, “NO PICKLES” written in bold. He closes his gaping mouth. “Well, if you really want to do something stupid like this, I’m not going to stop you.” He looks away, but you don’t miss the flare of crimson on his cheeks. You make your way to the counter, showing a frazzled employee that receipt.
“Excuse me,” you say loudly. “My boyfriend asked for no pickles.” Scaramouche hides behind your figure – or, more accurately, uses your body as a shield. You’re sure his hat has its own hitbox.
She reads it carefully. “Ma’am, have you checked the bag?”
“Excuse me?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, making your figure look more intimidating. “Would I have come here if I didn’t? What if my boyfriend is allergic to pickles?” You’re building up steam quickly. The boyfriend in question turns a furious red, finding a fascinating wad of chewed-up gum on the floor to stare at. “He could have died. I could be suing you, y’know? That would look like a completely different conversation. You want me to take it there?”
The employee holds her hand up placatingly. “Ma’am, I’m sure we can settle this without going to court. Can I please check the meal you were served?”
You tilt your chin up, looking at her down your nose. “Sure,” you sneer. “Be quick about it.” Scaramouche opens his mouth, but seems to think better of saying anything. Not when there’s steam practically coming out of your ears.
She opens the boxes, inspecting the filling. She looks back at you, biting her lip. You’re already studying her name badge, ready to report her to the manager, but then she turns the boxes around, taking off the sesame bun.
There is one with a large bite in it, containing pickles. There is one without a large bite in it… with no pickles. Your mouth gapes open, staring at the irrefutable evidence. Scaramouche peeks over your shoulders, then doubles over, head in his hands.
“Um, so…” The employee wrings her hands. “We can’t refund you. I’m really sorry.” You continue to stare, eyes wide, even as you’re holding up the line. Someone snickers.
You’re completely caught between saying “thank you” and admitting defeat, or doubling down and insisting “I would like to speak to your manager.” Instead, you open and close your mouth, like a lobotomised goldfish, and stutter out, “I would like to thank your manager!”
Scaramouche facepalms so hard, the impact is audible. The employee looks shocked, then remembers to plaster on a polite customer-service smile, no doubt concerned about what the fuck is going on with the socially-challenged patron in front of her. “Thank you. I… uh… I am the manager, so I suppose… if you really wanted to express your gratitude, you could fill out a review?” She hands you a QR code. “Not that I’m pressuring you, of course! But it would really help sales, and future service… and—oh. I got carried away. Please scan the QR code! If you want!”
The world is moving sluggishly, as if suspended in syrup. You scan the code the quivering manager shows you, noting the name on her tag, and fill out the form. Scaramouche stands at the exit, hat pulled low over his face. The manager beams at you once you’ve completed it.
“Thank you! It’s been a pleasure to serve you at Wanmin’s!” You speedwalk out of there, running to the car. Scaramouche follows closely behind. You pull out of the parking lot so fast your wheels screech on the tarmac, driving in complete silence until you end up at your apartment block. You put your head in your hands and groan.
“We can never go back there.” You sigh. “Do they inform other local branches about weird customers?”
Scaramouche presses his lips together. “Um… do you want to find out?” You groan again, aggrieved.
“Let’s just learn to cook,” you beg. “We can make, like… pasta.” It’s the only dish you can make, that’s for sure.
“Yeah, uh, we can, I guess. Should we get groceries?” You nod miserably. You could use that burger right now. You pat your thighs, then check around your seat. You even lean over and check Scaramouche. “Wait, where are—” A memory flashes in your mind: one where you peel out of the fast-food place after getting your ass handed to you. You almost start crying. Scaramouche scratches the back of his head.
“I mean… there’s always cereal.” Holding back tears, you nod. At least your boyfriend has some goddamn sense.
“Yeah, there is.”
“Good. Because, frankly, I need to cool off.” The statement sounds weird to you, but you brush it off in favour of your rumbling stomach and shattered ego. If only you knew the minefield of ammunition you’d just walked past.
