Scara X Reader - Blog Posts

mylove-iv

2 months ago

⠀𐔌 . ⋮ raisin rage .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

ʚ motorcyclist! scaramouche x fem! reader ɞ

synopsis: a creamy medium brick-berry lipstick stain with an undertone of warm brown is what’s painted on scaramouche’s helmet and fuck, all can he remember is that very same shade painted on your pretty lips.

genres: romance (implied mutual attraction, but it's mainly kuni being down bad LMAO), modern au + smau.

word count: 745.

author's note: part of the same universe as my xiao smau fic, the chase! i just had to get this fic out of my system haha. thank you to my bf for helping me with the scenes mwah but please ignore the time stamps! 🥺 this'll have a part two so stay tuned :>

‎‧₊ ─ masterlist .ᐟ ༘

You were late, atrociously late to the dinner at Xinyue Kiosk.

Clinicals had run late and when you had gotten home you were forced to throw your soiled scrubs into the wash before scrubbing down your skin raw in fears of any bodily fluids landing on your skin unnoticed.

But just as you saw the restaurant in your sights, your phone in your hands vibrates profusely and you belatedly realized that you had missed your lipstick.

Wincing at the memory of Hutao and Lumine clowning you last time for missing your infamous ‘boy killer lipstick,’ you’re about to curse as you realize you’ve forgotten your compact mirror.

But you eyes catch onto a bike helmet sitting atop a motorcycle with a shiny, reflective visor and desperation has you quickly striding towards it.

Back bowing lowly to match the height if the visor, like a clockwork, you quickly and effortlessly line your lips before popping your lipstick cap.

The bullet of the warm brick-red lipstick glides smoothly on your bottom lip but before you’re able to move onto your upper lip, the helmet is suddenly lifted from your view.

Eyes fluttering up, you meet unamused pools of indigo lined by red eyeliner that seems to make the unknown man's eyes pop.

And despite his flat expression, you note the man as cute and incredibly attractive.

“You need some help?” He mockingly mutters as your back immediately straightens before he sits himself on what you presume to be his bike.

But before you’re able to respond, he slips his helmet on and flips the visor back up. “Go find another mirror to apply your scarlet red lipstick, doll.” His words are nonchalant yet so infuriating.

You repress the urge to roll your eyes before a sweet smile adorns your face, completely missing the way the man’s eyes widen slightly.

“Actually, love, it’s a warm brick-red shade.” You murmur, honeyed words dripping with a false sweetness.

┊ ੈ✩‧₊*°࿐ྂ。

Before Scaramouche is able to retort to your smart ass comment, you move closer, borderline invading his space before you flick his visor down.

He’s surprised by your audacity yet he’s also taken off guard with how pretty you looked when you had smiled earlier.

Even if he knew it was to mask your annoyance from his previous jab, the memory seems to persist in his mind, bright and incredibly clear.

You push closer, your face mere inches from his helmet clad face as a teasing glint sparkles in your eyes.

He finds himself entranced with the entirety of you, your pretty looks, dreamy smile, and how you swapped blows with him so easily.

“To answer your first question, yes, I do need help. Now sit still and let me apply my lipstick, pretty boy.” You hum lowly—mockingly—and Scaramouche is grateful you’ve flicked his visor down as he knows his heated ears are flushed red.

In all of the years Scaramouche has been alive, he’s never really found himself speechless, always having a retort ready. But as his eyes trace the bullet of your lipstick painting your lips oh so prettily, he swallows down his harsh remarks.

“So,” He coughs slightly and he revels in how your eyes flicker to his eyes behind the visor, eyes defiant and ready to fight. “Mind telling me the shade so I can get it right next time?”

You smile, eyes crinkling and smile lines showing, and Scaramouche feels his chest tighten slightly.

Fuck, you’re stunning.

“Rum raisin.” Your laugh is sweet, soothing and absolutely alluring that it had him floundering.

If sirens were real, Scaramouche would vehemently say that you were one, an enchanting voice accompanied with bewitching looks personified.

“Thank you, pretty.” He mumbles and he feels a swell of pride when he sees you flush slightly.

But Scaramouche swears his heart nearly fucking stops when you lean in, placing a candied kiss on his visor.

Fuck fuck fuck-

“A gesture of thanks!” You sing softly yet so teasingly and in his dazed state, Scaramouche doesn’t realize that you’ve disappeared behind the doors of Xinyue Kiosk.

A few minutes pass and Scaramouche hastily pulls his helmet off, feeling the cool air against his heated skin.

“Holy shit-“ He finds himself muttering as he gazes at his helmet visor longingly, drowning in thoughts of you.

Scaramouche recalls of how the warm brick-red lipstick beautifully colored your lips and how you charmingly said Rum Raisin-

“Fuck.” He swears, feeling his skin heat up again.