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tartaroooo · 6 days

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Two Sides of the Same Coin

How are you so unaware of the fact that he despises you because he’s desperate to remain unattached?

Harbinger!Scaramouche x Gn!Reader

Notes: Hi, I caved. So for those asking for a part 2 on certain stories... I'm not sure how to approach a part 2 for the two of them so I did this instead. Hopefully, it satisfies you AHAHAHAHA. Also, I'm not that well-versed in writing smut but hey, I tried-

Warning: harbinger x secretary lol, cursing, NSFW, marking

Scaramouche hates everyone. That’s a fact.

Yet for some reason, he despises you.

He detests the flicker of luster within your eyes when your lips voice a low hum, triggering your body to sway along to whatever illusive melody is in that tiny brain of yours. He loathes your gratified, cat-like stretches, a testimony that amplifies his obscene appetite. He finds himself revolted by your ability to catapult his judgment far from the naked eye, and inspire his thoughts to vanish into nonexistence.

He hates this so fucking much.

How can one even bear this much animosity towards someone? Even he didn’t know. All he was aware of was how much it aggravated him when he saw you exhibiting interest in anyone that wasn’t him. For Archon’s sake, you were his secretary. Not Childe’s. Not Dottore’s. Not even Her Majesty’s.

His secretary.

Is that so hard to understand? Even a brain like yours could surely discern something so unambiguous. So why were you still preoccupied with others? Especially with those worms who were beneath his rank? How baffling could this concept be that even you can not be conscious of it?

How are you so unaware of the fact that he despises you because he’s desperate to remain unattached?

For someone like Scaramouche, life was nothing but a cruel joke. Providing him the luminescence of his longing only to be dispelled and scattered within the air he didn’t need. It has happened three times already. He doesn’t need it to resurface and transpire again.

He despises you so much he won't let you be his 4th.

And he despises you so much he’ll make sure to drill this lesson in that thick-headed skull of yours.

Wretched whines and hitched gasps reflect around the room, only to bounce against the walls and into Scara’s ear, appeasing his vulgar notions. He's been at it for… how long now? An hour? Or two? He couldn't remember. But why should he keep track? He was far gone, consumed by his irrational side that led his sensibility astray. Everything around him has withered away as his focal point shifted to your mellow and inviting passage. The tight heat provided solace akin to that of a home. His home. Oh, how he wishes he could stay inside of you forever.

“Remember this, you fucking whore”, he hisses as he adjusts your position for his convenience. He relished the way your nails jab at his skin, scraping against his back as he rams into your sweet spot. It drove him insane. Despite the turmoil of sweat and cum, the movement of his hips does not falter. If anything, he proceeds to fasten his pace. "I'm your boss," he growls as his slender fingers curl around your hips, "Your Harbinger."

His lips twitched upwards as he instilled in his memory the way your face contorted in pleasure. "And you...", he pauses, only to deliver a hard thrust that provokes more moans to spill out your pretty mouth,

"You are nothing more than my secretary"

Scara kept jack hammering into you, forcing your face on the pillow to stifle your piercing cries of ecstasy as he subdued you. He's going to make sure you'll be the good little bitch he wants you to be. His figure looms over you like a shadow, an impending threat as he takes you from behind. "You obey me", he snarls as he inclines his head near your ear. He grapples your chin for him to catch a glimpse of your adorable face. It delights him to see your tear streaked features pressed against the pillow, seeking an end to this twisted play as your body argues and wails for more. At a leisurely pace, he slithers down your neck as his hot breath leaves a succession of feather light kisses on your skin. "You do everything I tell you to do"

With a vigorous bite, he slams with ferocity before burying himself in a great depth inside you. A wanton moan pushes past your lips as he starts to grind. It was euphoric, a dopamine boost that is sure to maneuver him over the edge. "I'm not going to let anyone have you,” he chuckles, “not even the gods"

His hold was secure, ensuring that you can’t slip away. Not like you would anyways. Not when you get a thrill out of this as much as he does. He knows how much you savor every inch of his cock as it throbs and shudders against your tight walls

"Just you wait", he grins against the comfort of your complexion as he unhands your hips, "I'll become a god”

“Your god"

He withdraws from the intimate space with a smirk. He stationed his hands on top of your thighs, before spreading them apart. An incentive to impale himself further into you and propel you to see Celestia in all its glory..

"And you'll be my first follower. You'll devote yourself to me and me only. You'll worship like the fucking god I am"

His thoughts ran back to the failures of the past. Past people who fractured glass words known as promises, who didn’t care enough to sustain him in their grasp, who withdrew from his life and left him to fend for himself. Each one of them took a piece of the puppet, and never had the heart to return it back. And now, in your grasp was a substantial segment of him that he never wanted to give away. Yet, somehow, you had managed to snatch it away.

He hates you for it.

And he hates himself even more for wanting you to keep it.

So he has no choice. He won't let you be one of them. He won't allow himself to lose you too.

"I'll keep you safe. I'll always look after my most devoted follower"

He's going to become a god, that’s for sure. He’s going to attain the towering heights of power possible and bind you to him for all eternity. He veers down, before puncturing your flesh with his teeth. It leaves a deep impression on your smooth skin. A mark of promise.

"So don't you dare fucking leave me behind. Understand?"

"I won't allow it”

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tartaroooo · 15 days

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Hi, I'm Tartaro but you can call me Calyx. I love Scara so so much so this will be a Scara-centric blog. I do write other characters, though not as much. I mainly write POVs, but I like writing character-focused stories too. My upload schedule is a bit inconsistent but I'll do my best to try and upload at least once a month. I'm not sure about NSFW at the moment, if I can write it or not. So yeah, let's see.

Requests are open btw!

Though it may take me a while to do them

One shots:

One More Night - scaramouche x gn reader Seeking Sweet Serenity - wanderer x gn reader Charisma Etched on Strings - electric guitarist scaramouche x gn reader Two Sides of the Same Coin - harbinger scaramouche x gn reader

Pairings:

Star-Crossed Hearts - zhongchi

Series:

Cafe AU with Scaramouche - waiting list Interactive Zombie Apocalypse Au with Scaramouche - waiting list

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tartaroooo · 16 days

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Note:

If ever the poll closes and you still want to vote, you can go ahead and leave your vote in the comments :)

#pov #genuine question #genshin x reader #x reader #just asking #genshin oneshots #oneshots #need help #please and thank you

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tartaroooo · 17 days

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Charisma Etched on Strings

You despised being near Scaramouche. It was a danger to your well-being.

Because all you can feel is the warmth of his body traveling to yours, enclosing around you and morphing into the oxygen that you so desperately need to survive.

Electric guitarist!Scaramouche x Gn!Reader

Notes: I swear this one has no set pov. It switches between Scara and the reader so I apologize for that. Also, I'm not that good at wiriting x readers *insert crying emoji*

Warning: Slight cursing

It was supposed to be a harmless guitar lesson.

So how the fuck did you end up sitting on this shithead’s lap?

“Easy sweetheart. Stop squirming," Scaramouche’s grating voice reverberated throughout the otherwise empty room. The words he spouts are pestiferous, enough to ensure a fist will land on his face if he doesn’t shut up soon. You merely asked him for a guitar lesson, not to be manhandled and subjectively humiliated by this sick bastard of a friend. “Get me off your lap!" you protest, writhing against his arms.

You want nothing to do with this.

Yet he cages you with that god-forbidden instrument of his, propping the black, electric guitar in front of you. You were effectively sandwiched between that handsome son of a bitch and his prized musical instrument. “You said you wanted to learn right?" he mused, his calloused hand cascading down your wrist to seize it securely, "This is the fastest way."

Lies.

You scoff at his pathetic excuse to justify himself. He’s just so full of bull. You know he was amused at your predicament, your thrashing and twisting igniting a twinge of sadistic pleasure within him. Scara shifts slightly, a lock of your hair twirled around his index finger, “Now stop moving so we can start our lesson.”

Without much of a choice, you reluctantly compelled to his demands. Your tantrums ceased, much to Scara's entertainment. He knows how much you detest your current dilemma and he couldn't help but take advantage of it. He wants to mess with you. To increasingly rile you up every passing second. He presses his chest completely against your back, wanting to see those cute little veins of yours pop out. His lips twitched upwards as he made sure there wouldn't be any space left between you two. He could hear your pretty lips part and verbalize a gasp.

A sweet, sweet treat for his ears.

He couldn't be bothered to give you a chance to retaliate. It was way more fun toying with you when he rendered you helpless. Leaning closer and letting his breath fan against the tip of your ears, his fruity voice resounds through your brain and into your spine in the form of shivers. "Let's learn some basic chords first," he murmurs as he slinks his fingers towards yours, hovering over them. Scara felt the smirk on his face expand, you sure do have a warm set of hands. He surely wouldn't mind if it was pressed with his all the time. Stuck in his wishful thinking, he absentmindedly squeezed your thumb lightly. He blinks. Ah, he was getting distracted. He clears his throat and he proceeds, "Just like in every lesson, we start with C".

He adjusts your index finger to pin the second string on the first fret. He does the same with your middle and ring finger, stationing them on the second fret of the fourth string and the third fret of the fifth string respectively. His loitering fingers aid in pushing down the strings as he's aware that you're probably not pressing down hard enough. It also helped restrain any movements that may disrupt the sound when plucked. You, on the other hand, verbalized a protest.

“Hey, that hurts," you hissed as you tried to lift your finger off. Even just slightly. But Scara wouldn't let you. He remains unfazed, unbothered by the fact that your fingers are possibly bruising underneath his. “It’s supposed to idiot, it's your first time,” Scara rolls his eyes and his resolve to keep your finger position doesn't falter.

You'll definitely punch him after this.

“Now strum,” he instructs and you've got half the mind to not follow through. Curse your curiosity though, washing away each and every one of your senses, dulling them and allowing it to control your other hand to strum the strings. It made a tune, not akin to those voice cracks of teenagers going through puberty or screeching bats when viciously searching for their next meal. It was a pleasant melody, a fine sound that signifies a correct mark. Scara smiles, watching in delight how taken aback you looked. "Good. Next chord," he was ready to shift the position of your fingers once more. Your fingers wouldn't budge though. You've reached your limit.

You've certainly had enough.

Your heart's been racing since the beginning and you were sure you won't be able to take it anymore. Not with him being this close. You catch a whiff of his perfume, a woody fragrance with a base of leather that never fails to drive you insane. You want to smash your head against the wall so badly.

You despised being near him. It was a danger to your well-being.

Because all you can feel is the warmth of his body traveling to yours, enclosing around you and morphing into the oxygen that you so desperately need to survive.

"This is stupid", you scoffed before he could move your fingers. Scara tilts his head in your direction. Oh? Were you going to object to him again? How cute. He chuckles and raises his brow, “What is?”

“Your way of teaching.” With a groan, you go back to your squirming strategy to try and break loose from his predatorial hold, “Can't we do this without being an inch away from each other?”

Scara merely laughs at you. ‘Why? Does the closeness bother you?" he teases. He would get closer to you if he could, but there's literally no more space left between you and him. So he opts to angle his lips adjacent to your neck and let out a drag of air. His breath brushes against your skin, parallel to a gentle caress from a lover. He was so sure he just heard your breathing hitch. Adorable.

“Is this better?” he smirks, heaving a drawn-out breath once more. You shake your head and writhe, flailing your arms wildly in a fit of fulmination. Scara can't help but grin at your antics. He doesn't back down, reinforcing his hold over you. He won’t let go. I mean, why would he? When you fit perfectly in his arms?

Your scuffle abated for a second and he caught the way your face turned into a stunning shade of red. “Aw, you're even blushing for me," he remarks, prompting you to resume your thrashing.

“Of course not! Why would I be!?”

Scara chuckles, his gaze never leaving you. "Why the denial? Anyone with eyes can see how red you've gotten because of me."

You wanted to wipe that smug expression plastered on his face. He knows that. He's just reveling in the fact that you couldn't.

He elevated his head to meet your twitching ears, ready to grace them with an assortment of breathy words bound to hit that sore spot in your heart. "There's nothing to deny you know? Not when I'm right here. Mindful and observant of how you feel towards me."

His fingers dragged from your jaw to your cheek, leaving a touch so sensual it's flabbergasting at most. He rested his hands along your cheek as he spoke with an allure that was sure to keep you on the edge, subconsciously thirsting for more. "I know you like me. You like it when we're this close," he continues, cocking your head up and exposing more of that tempting throat of yours. Not that he can see it from his point of view, but from the front? It would certainly be a sensual sight that would drive every inch of his self-control onto the edge of a cliff.

"I don't mind it though. I don't mind watching your pathetic descent into the abyss of my heart," he chuckles, hands falling towards your lips. It was quite the contrast, his rough fingers kneading against your soft and plump lips.

"So just fall for me, yeah?" his thumb rubs your upper lip in a circular motion. Honestly, he's tempted to shove his finger in your mouth. He wants to hear your feeble whines as he occasionally toys with your tongue, your erotic whimpers that deluges his entire sensibility. But he doesn't. At least not now.

"I'll be sure to catch you"

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tartaroooo · 26 days

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Seeking Sweet Serenity

You're tired after a long day and Wanderer is there to help you.

Wanderer x Gn!Reader

Notes: This is very self indulgent. School sucks ass and I fr need to be comforted by Wanderer.

Art: @yXaBLUGg7Yqtw1y (X)

Warning: None, this is just pure fluff.

Life is shit.

So shit.

Your natural efficiency attracted incompetency, individuals at every turn would raise their voice to seize your attention. Yet every word they spill, every letter that rolls out their tongue, were nothing but vexing phrases.

“Traveler, please help me!”

“Traveler, can you do me a favor?”

You were sick of it.

Your throat releases a sigh from its confines as you shoulder brusquely the wooden door in front of you. A feeling of tranquility often swaddles you upon entering your shared apartment with Wanderer, but right now, the solace you had found was rived from your grasp, leaving you vulnerable to animosity. Your thoughts torment your brain, tears pricking the rim of your eyes. Oh how you’d do anything to stop yourself from feeling this way.

Upon overhearing the door screech, Wanderer glances at the entrance. He caught sight of your silhouette, stumbling on your feet. The corners of his lips shifted upwards, it was amusing how much you were akin to that of a drunk person. He rests his arms around his chest, shoulders slumped against the wall. “Who killed you? You look like a corpse”, he teased.

You didn’t answer, opting to stay quiet. The stillness grew, leaving a lingering sense of unbearable silence hanging in the air.

Wanderer couldn’t help but raise a brow. You were acting most peculiar today. Usually, you would’ve returned his jab, possibly even teasing him back just to watch him squirm and insult you back. Yet you remain rooted in your place, not uttering a single term.

Sensitive to this agonizing dread of not hearing your voice, he decided to approach you. His footsteps were light, his sandals clicking across the floor boards. “You alright?” he asked, looming over you. Despite his imposing figure, he was gentle, almost afraid that he might break you with every word that slips out his mouth. Without warning, your figure clasps its hands around him, leaving the Wanderer stunned. “I’m fine”, was the reply you managed to choke out.

But he knew better. He knew you weren’t fine.

Though how was he supposed to react to this? The Wanderer was never one to deal with emotions. All throughout his life, he channeled all his emotions into a glass bottle before throwing them far away into the depths of his non-existent heart. It wasn’t healthy, he knows that now. It only escalates everything further. He has long abandoned his fervent feelings, and he was just slowly unboxing them again. He doesn’t have any clue as to how one should properly deal with them. But watching you suffer in his arms made him wish he knew. It made him wish he was well versed in the area, that he knew how to help you with your current situation.

With only one card available to play, he decided to gamble his chance. He tried a method that worked for him, a process Nahida does whenever he was emotionally unstable. With a soft sigh, he cards his gloved fingers through your locks. ”You wanna cuddle on the couch… and talk about it?” he asked, a certain softness coating his words. You merely looked up and nodded your head meekly.

Wanderer smiles.

You just want to be comforted.

And he knew that.

He'll make sure you're okay.

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #scaramouche #genshin scara #scara x reader #scara x y/n #scaramouche x reader #gender nuetral reader #genshin x reader #genshin wanderer #wanderer x reader #wanderer #wanderer x y/n #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact wanderer #scaramouche fanfic #wanderer fanfic #scara fanfic

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tartaroooo · 28 days

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Star-Crossed Hearts

Zhongli has lived for thousands of years.

And he's always watching his beloved be ripped away from his grasp.

Notes: Hi, I wrote this when I was knee deep in my Zhongchi phase. So like, a year ago-

Art credits: Qing11502143

Warnings: None

Zhongli has lived for thousands of years.

He watched how the seven nations far and wide united to form the world of today. How that world forfeited the deities that used to protect them and their respective land. He scrutinized as humans progressed to a new era, without the need of gods and visions.

He watched with a satisfied smile.

He doesn't feel bitter resentment or anger to the mortals who casted him aside, as he was first to vacate his seat from the heavens. He slowly realized that the world he's grown to know was no longer the same as it was before. His people became independent, no longer needing guidance and protection from the gods above.

He had long fulfilled his duties.

But he continued to overlook his nation- the one he made with his own hands- as it developed without him. It was painful, yes, but he couldn't help the twitch of his lips when faced with his country. He was proud of Liyue, now a bustling city without the hindrance of a god.

Zhongli has lived for thousands of years.

Being a god, it's one of the privileges that comes with it. To never age. But is that really considered a privilege?

He's seen how every person he loved was forcefully torn away from his side. How his heart shatters and rebuilds itself, losing pieces as more people come and go. So instead, he wraps his heart in obsidian to help numb the pain.

It was fitting for him. The Geo Archon with a heart of stone.

But under his vigilant gaze, he saw how a heart of stone is still a heart nonetheless.

Because somehow, that hardened heart crumbles and turns into dust, swept away by the raging winds as he watches the love of his life jump into the arms of another.

Charming, witty and sly. The name Ajax has been engraved in Zhongli's memory and etched into his heart. He fell for that crooked smile and his silly way with words. He loves the way he always reeked of something metallic, sometimes minty and sometimes just straight up blood. He loves the way his barely noticeable freckles show themselves under the scorching Liyue sun. How his sunset dyed hair becomes a star, guiding Zhongli in the dark with its bright shade. He loves him from head to toe, with every beat of his heart.

He loves him, but Ajax doesn't.

And he has to watch as he becomes happy with someone else.

But that doesn't mean he would stop loving him. Gods, can he even stop loving him? Every day, he finds something new to fall in love with, maybe a mole he's never seen before or a scar that refuses to heal. There's just so many things to love about Ajax. And he’s willing to write all of those things if it meant he could immortalize the one he loves for the world to see.

Because Ajax can’t live that long.

Because he is human.

And like other humans, they perish. But Zhongli isn't scared of that. He's lived long enough to know that people always come back. He'll just have to find Ajax again and fall in love with him. Even if he's never going to be the one to occupy that heart of his. Even if all he does is watch him, because that's the only thing he is permitted to do.

Zhongli has lived for thousands of years.

And he's always watching his beloved be ripped away from his grasp.

("One day", he proclaimed to his friend Venti, as they downed another glass of firewater together. The Teyvat of today has some strange tastes when it comes to wine.

"One day, I will stop falling in love with him")

-----------------

“Zhongli, I got suspended today" Childe laughs as he flops onto the fresh patch of grass. He pivoted his head to shift his gaze to the man beside him, who quietly lays down beside him with an unreadable expression.

They were currently resting in a field of green. This little valley was like their getaway, a place they go to when they want to spend some time together. This also happens to be one of Zhongli's favorite spots, for its breathtaking scenery and for a memory he's quite fond of.

(“See Zhongli! Told you you look better with silk flowers” Ajax beamed as his gloved fingers carefully placed the flower crown he made on Zhongli’s head. Zhongli just smiles, his amber eyes narrowing in delight.

“I think it looks better on you”, he thought as the words rested heavily on the back of his throat. Never to be spoken out loud.)

Zhongli sighs in an affectionate manner, "And why would that be?"

He has a guess as to what happened, but he wants to hear it straight from the others lips. He wants to hear Childe tell the tale. He's got a real talent for storytelling, his words bewitching anyone who dares listen. Zhongli happens to be one of those people.

The ginger grins from ear to ear, and beckons him to move closer. He starts narrating, filling the surrounding air with wonder and awe.

And throughout it all, Zhongli stares at him with his lips slightly curved, his eyes crescent shaped like the moon above.

Oh it seems like he's falling again.

After Childe finished his short anecdote, he drove his fist into the sky as if he was punching the air. "And that's how I fought a gang and survived" he huffs, a victorious aura emitting from his body. He flashes Zhongli a toothy grin that sends the archon back to the olden days, when he would open his door and be greeted by Ajax, covered in all kinds of cuts and bruises.

("This is getting unbearable" Zhongli chided as his pointer finger applied ointment to one of the bruises in Ajax's back. Ajax hissed—probably from the pain— before letting out a low chuckle. "Yet you seem to tolerate me, Zhongli. Why is that?"

Because I love you was left unsaid. And it was better that way.)

Zhongli groans. It seems that every reincarnation he meets ends up being addicted to the adrenaline rush provided by battling. One they definitely inherited from the original. He doesn't know if that's a good or bad thing.

He reached out to Childe and his fingers instinctively brushed past his cheek. Zhongli can feel the softness of his skin, and leaves him with the urge to touch it even more. Realization hits him like a freight train. What is he doing?

The brunette felt heat rush to his cheeks and he pulled his hand back without a warning. He laid flat, his body facing the stars to avoid whatever expression Childe has on his face right now. It doesn’t work though, and he instead feels an intense look coming from his side.

“You shouldn't get into too many fights. You might end up getting injured" he snapped in a gentle way, his voice dripping with concern. He regrets letting his instincts take over. But he can’t control them when it comes to Childe. It becomes really troublesome sometimes.

A few seconds later, he can hear clothes rustle from his side. Then he catches a glimpse of Childe's silhouette. Pushing aside the remorse he felt from his actions earlier, he decides to take a quick glance. He shouldn’t have done that though, cause his pulse just skyrocketed. The soft glow of the moon bounced on Childe’s pale skin, his usual color dulled down by the night. It made him look soft. Ethereal. Zhongli’s mind automatically ingrains this view in his memory like a painting.

Because Childe is a work of art. And Zhongli will gladly be the painter who gets to preserve his beauty.

"You don't have to worry," Childe says, dragging the older man back to reality. Zhongli blinks, and sees a hand extending towards him.

A hand is extending towards him.

Zhongli blinks again, and he completely registers how Childe's hand is in his hair.

Childe's hand is in his hair.

A small squeak forces itself out of Zhongli's mouth as his eyes widen the size of teacup plates. He's not a stranger to physical contact with Childe, but none of them as intimate as this. It feels nice. It gives him a moment of comfort, his problems washed away by the tides of his touch. But he doesn't want it. Because he shouldn’t have it.

It’s like a drug to Zhongli. One taste, and he won’t be able to run away.

And that scares him.

He needs to run away.

"l'll be fine" Childe continues, and there’s something new in those ocean eyes of his. Zhongli can’t make it out. It’s something entirely new. Foreign. He can feel his chest constrict.

No.

Stop.

Stop looking at me like that.

Stop looking like you care the way I do.

Zhongli hates this. He hates how Childe can just say something and Zhongli will end up short circuiting. He hates how even a single look can send Zhongli into a spiral.

He hates how one side this is.

He hates how he has to go through this over and over again. He hates how he loves Ajax so much he lets himself go through this over and over again.

He hates it.

He wants to take off and bolt away from this situation. But Childe's touch is keeping him grounded. He's still ruffling his hair, and looking at him like he's precious.

He's not that precious. He'll never be precious.

All throughout his life, he’s never been precious enough for Childe to willingly choose him.

He's merely an option. A second choice.

Zhongli gulps and closes his eyes, letting the feeling of Childe ruffling his hair sink into his mind.

But what if…

What if this Childe chooses him?

He exhales.

He lets his mind wander. He lets himself dream. He lets himself hope.

He hopes that they stay like this forever. He hopes that he will be chosen.

He hopes that Ajax will finally be his.

When the hand is abruptly pulled away, Zhongli snapped open his eyes only to see Childe glaring at him with a scrunched up nose.

“What the hell, what shampoo are you using? Why is your hair so smooth?" Childe curses, a demanding look crossing his eyes. Zhongli stops, and he laughs. And he keeps laughing. Not because of the remark Childe gave, but because of how he was about to plummet into another abyss of doubt.

He was about to fall for his own trap.

He laughs until his voice is hoarse.

He caught himself hoping again. When he knows he shouldn't hope.

But it's Ajax.

So he lets himself have hope.

Zhongli stops laughing and sits, so both him and Childe are on the same level. The younger man has his eyebrows raised, probably questioning Zhongli’s sanity. With a puff of air, the brunette bows his head.

"My apologies Ajax I got a bit carried away." He smiles and gestures into the wind. "I use a brand called Aloe. It recently came out, only available in our local area. It’s really effective in removing oil and other sediments from the hair. This causes it to have a smooth result and—"

"Wait nevermind. I don't want to hear it" Childe cuts him off and raises both his arms in an "I give up" manner. Zhongli chuckles. "You just don't want to listen to my ramble, do you?" He teases with a knowing smile.

Childe face instantly flushed. Adorable.

"I just don't want to hear a rant about shampoo for 3 hours, okay?" Childe remarked, lowering his hands to return back to its original position. "At least not right now" he whispers. Zhongli nods. Talking about shampoo right now would just ruin the mood that they have. And frankly, he doesn’t want it to be ruined.

So he just decides to tease him further.

"But you look so bored when I talk about anything".

"You know I’m not" Childe whines and slightly nudges Zhongli’s shoulders, "Your stories are really interesting".

That's the same thing all the other reincarnations say, yet he never gets tired of hearing it. It never fails to make his heart stutter. It’s always pleasant to hear when the one you love likes something about you that most people can't stand.

“But I wonder…” the ginger mutters. He looks at Zhongli, his gaze probing. “How strong are you physically? Like in a fight?”

"Average", Zhongli simpers.

And that's a lie. I mean, he's been called the "God of War" at some point.

This comment makes Childe's sit perfectly straight, an air of challenge materializing out of nowhere. Something tells Zhongli that his words weren’t believed.

"Alright, let's test it"

And in a swift motion, Zhongli is tackled to the ground by Childe, hovering over him.

The older man yelps at the sudden movement. He was not expecting this. Not at all. If anything, he was expecting the boy to demand that they have a sparring contest. Not to push him to the ground. Childe's hands are on both sides of Zhongli's head, and those damn blue eyes are staring straight at his own. He had the stupid cheeky grin that never fails to give Zhongli a heart attack.

Though, a heart attack would be nice right now.

Because he doesn't think he can face this.

Not when Childe is literally on top of him.

Zhongli feels as if all the blood in his body is transferred to his face. He just silently prays the atmosphere is dark enough so that Childe won't see his expression. He was sure he was red. So he wishes he won't see how red he was.

"Did I catch you by surprise? Or are you really that weak?" the ginger teases. He seems oblivious to the fact that Zhongli is flustered right now.

Good.

Zhongli's lips parted, about to say something, but he closed them again.

Being in close proximity with Childe is never a good thing.

His breathing hitches.

He won't be able to hold back if they stay like this. He might end up wrapping his arms around Childe's neck and pull him closer to his body. He might end up holding him and never letting go.

And he’s afraid of that.

He's afraid he won't be able to let go when he should.

But maybe..

Maybe this is what Childe wants too.

Maybe he wanted this, for him to be held tightly and never let go. For him to end up in Zhongli's embrace, tangled in the arms of one another.

Does he want this?

Does he want the same things I do?

But before Zhongli’s instincts take over again, Childe falls to his side with a huff. Zhongli blinks and blinks.

He almost did it.

Oh my god he almost did it.

Zhongli tries to still his breathing, he didn't realize how fast it became.

He almost made a mistake.

He almost lost himself.

Trying to recover from his shock, he turns to his side to adjust and further calm his nerves.

But he regrets doing so.

Because Childe is also looking at him. Gazing at him with those eyes.

Eyes that seem to flicker with affection.

Zhongli's breathing hitches again.

Why?

Why does he keep looking at him like that?

Zhongli ponders and ponders until his head hurts. But he couldn't think of a rational answer.

Is it because Childe likes him back? Is it because Childe also cares the way he does?

Zhongli inhales. Then he exhales. And he thinks for the first time in his life, he finally gets to have Childe.

He finally gets to call Ajax his.

Oh how he wishes he could finally do that.

"Ah right, I forgot to mention" Childe starts, breaking eye contact with Zhongli to look around for a moment before gazing back at him (Something he does when he's nervous, Zhongli notes). "I can't make it this Saturday. I have a date with Lumine"

And Zhongli's heart falls apart like a fallen empire.

Of course.

How can he forget about the irrefutable fact that Childe will never jump into his arms?

"You asked her out?" He hates how his voice sounds so strained right now. So broken.

Yeah! She said yes. Though her brother looked like he was about to kidnap me and dump me into a river" Childe cackles, making a motion of wrapping something and throwing it away.

They are never going to work.

He was bound to watch, just watch as his beloved falls for anyone but him. Because that's how it is.

Because fate made sure Childe would never fall for him.

Zhongli shakes, just a little. Barely noticeable even.

They were never meant to be.

Childe took notice of how Zhongli has gone unusually quiet and that his expression looks a little forlorn. He scoots closer and taps his shoulder, "Hey, are you okay?"

It doesn't hurt.

It's not supposed to hurt.

So why does it hurt?

"I know it was sudden of me to cancel but I'll make it up to you."

After having been rejected over and over again, his heart should've been numb to the pain.

It should've.

Yet why does his chest hurt more than it should?

"Maybe next week?"

Is wanting to be with Childe so wrong that the universe won't let them be together?

Even for one lifetime?

Is wanting to be with Childe so forbidden?

Zhongli looks at Childe and forces a smile, even when all he wants to do is to run far away from this place.

I love you.

"Yeah, next week seems great"

-----------------

Zhongli has lived for thousands of years.

He's watched the world around him advance, learning a lot from all those years of being alive. He even knows history like the back of his hand.

He's a far cry from stupid.

Yet when it came to Ajax, he was reduced to a pitiful state. All the rationality he has is thrown outside the window. Away from him. And all that remains is his heart. Beating, waiting patiently for the one he loves.

Zhongli has lived for thousands of years.

And he's going to live a few thousand more.

But he knows he'll always find Ajax, and fall in love with him again.

It’s a cycle he subjected himself to.

A cycle of wanting someone you can’t have.A cycle that involves continuously loving the same person.

Until he can’t anymore.

Even if all that person does…

Is break his heart all over again.

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #zhongchi #childe x zhongli #tartali #genshin zhongli #genshin childe #zhongchi brainrot #tartali brainrot #tartali fanfic #zhongchi fanfic #tartali oneshot #zhongchi oneshot

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tartaroooo · 1 month

Text

One More Night

Hookups were supposedly a one- time thing. A way to have fun without getting attached.

So why the fuck does he keep coming back to you?

Scaramouche x Gn!Reader

A/n: A quick edit of a draft I've had in my notes for a while now.

Art credits: ike_0910

Warning: Slight nsfw, cursing

Scaramouche despises hookups.

To be tangled within the sheets with a complete stranger, the idea repulsed him to no end. Honestly, it was rather pathetic. It was nothing more than a desperate act of attention. A despondent call to those terrified of estrangement. But archons forbid, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't the least bit curious.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try at least once?

Besides, stress has been eating him up lately. He needed a way to clear his thoughts and forget. To let go and revel in the pleasure of losing himself in his inhibitions.

But there must be something wrong with his hookup. Weren't they supposedly a one- time thing? A way to have fun without getting attached?

So why the fuck does he keep coming back to you?

Why does he insist on keeping you on his bed, with a part of him wishing you'd stay there forever?

He hated this so much.

Words can’t express how much he loathes this thing referred to as attachment. He refuses to let his emotions run rampant again and undergo the heartbreak of treachery. He’s been betrayed three times. He’s not letting you be his fourth one.

Yet here he was, in bed with you for the 5th time this week, lips locked in a fiery fit of passion. Your wrists were pinned above your head, it was scary how he didn’t want to let you go. How despite his repugnance towards devotion, his hypocrisy ruled with the thoughts of keeping you in place.

"You taste so fucking good…", he mumbles as his breath brushes against your lips. Your skin was redolent of fresh lemon with the base of woody amber, the bed sheets stained with the scent of your perfume. The air was heavy, choking the last of his self-control. He eyes you, taking shallow breaths underneath him as you tried to catch your breath. He couldn’t help the twitch of his lips as you never fail to provide him with the dopamine of having control. He dives in for another kiss, this time devoid of passion and merely fueled by his hunger. Hunger for you. For the delightful moans that slip out your pretty, little mouth when he pounds relentlessly into you. For the way your body arches when he rakes his fingernails across your smooth skin, all the while his hips snap forward to hit that spot deep within you. A certain area only he knows that would drive you crazy.

He was obsessed with this feeling.

He knows that he should've let you go already, that this is something that shouldn't be happening. But dear archons forgive him because being wrong never felt so right. You were like a poison who seeped into his veins, rewiring his brain to be filled with thoughts regarding you and you alone. You collapsed the building of his very morals, turned everything he stood up for into non-existent debris.

"One more night…" He mutters, burying his face into the crook of your neck. It would be a comforting gesture, if not for the fact that he sinks his teeth into your skin and gnaws on it like a piece of meat. He’s sure that's going to leave a mark tomorrow yet it doesn’t stop the sinful moan that escapes your throat, an invitation for him to keep going. And he will most definitely keep going. His sense of judgement disintegrated when you hooked your arms around his neck, reciprocating his intense desire that tarnished both your bodies and short circuited your willpower. Nothing else mattered. Just you and his desire to have his way with you until he's satisfied.

A low chuckle escapes from the confines of his throat as he saw how much of a mess you became. A mess that belonged in his museum of you, framed, sculpted or whatever way its preserved. With a smirk that seemed to widen every passing minute, his fingers lightly trace the curve of your spine.

He just couldn't get enough of you.

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