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Not for the first time tonight, Scaramouche’s cheeks warmed, and he tried to look anywhere but Childe’s deep blue eyes, but it was impossible when they were practically pressed against each other. He felt incredibly small when he quietly asked, “What are you doing?”
“Acting like an adult,” Childe replied, like it was a proper explanation. Scaramouche sucked in a breath when he felt fingers creeping along the skin of his hip, teasing at the waistband of his shorts. “That’s what you wanted, right?”
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After six years, Scaramouche and Childe cross paths again, this time as counselors for the summer camp they met at when they were in middle school.
It’s only two months. What could possibly happen?
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“Sir Flins—?”
”Ah, Master Illuga. Excellent timing,” Flins says, smooth as ever. “My apologies for not greeting you properly.”
Illuga’s face warms as he takes in the sight before him: Flins, on his knees and bent at the waist, his chest sandwiched between broken wooden shelves and weighed down by books. At his feet lie scattered trinkets and scrolls, kicked around haphazardly. “Are you… alright?”
A wry chuckle escapes the compromised man. “As you can see, I seem to have gotten myself into quite the predicament. Might I trouble you for your assistance?”
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“If I told you to place your trust in me,” the faerie ventures, tracing the outline of Childe’s parted lips before slipping his thumb between them, “would you?”
Every one of Childe’s survival instincts scream NO.
But Scaramouche is the kind of beautiful that will haunt him for the rest of his life. He is older than Childe’s ancestors, a dangerous being that has been the source of his village’s nightmares for generations, and Childe’s dick should not be so fucking hard at the thought of offering himself to be used however the faerie sees fit.
There are far worse ways to die, he thinks.
The twisted, gnarled forest near Childe’s home is rumored to be home to cunning, man-eating faeries.
However, he’s never believed the mysterious folktales swirling around the village, so when he stumbles into a lush, green paradise hidden beyond the dark shroud, Childe gets far more than he bargained for.
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Scaramouche navigates a post-apocalyptic Teyvat full of the walking dead.
Then, he meets Tartaglia.
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Through all of the horrors of his centuries-long existence, the pain he inflicted on others, and the atrocities he committed in the name of a god he no longer served, nothing had rattled Wanderer’s being quite like the first failing grade he received as a student at the Akademiya.
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After the events at Irminsul, Wanderer begins a new life as a student at the Akademiya and learns what it means to be human.