This Is So Cute Omfg - Blog Posts

go on and kiss the girl

[ modern!scaramouche x gn!reader ]

summary: you should've kissed him sooner, you dumb fuck.

notes: belated happy birthday my skrunkly babygirl, i spent days thinking of what prompt to write when i came upon this god sent tiktok vid

words: 1032 | warnings: gettin a little hands but all is sfw, first kith is a lil messy but it's safe istg

"what?"

"i—don't make me say it again!" flustered, your voice muffles over the speaker, possibly because you smothered your face over your pillow from embarrassment. he could even imagine you rolling over your bed just from the shuffles that made through the mic.

but scaramouche wants—no, needs to hear it again.

"no, no, say it again," he waits in bated breath, anticipation coursing through his veins that pumped the erratic flow of his blood.

now that he thinks of it, his heart seems to be beating a little too fast.

"i," you pause from the other side of the phone, the sound of your shaky breath unknowingly picked up by your phone, "i wanted to kiss you earlier."

"...."

"...."

scaramouche felt his heart do a round somersaults, an unbelievable warmth creeping up his face. before he could even stop himself, his mouth parted to speak.

"then why didn't you?"

another pause commenced, this time he can hear you trying to come up with a response, stuttered vowels left unsaid with sheer fluster and bashfulness.

it's a shame he couldn't see it himself.

"i didn't want to just kiss you out of the sudden!" you finally quipped, voice a tone higher.

"then you should've told me like you just did now."

"i was nervous, okay! stop pressuring me!"

he could literally see the pout on your voice, a soft thump on your side of the phone letting him know that you might have plop yourself on your pillow. "why don't you ask me, huh? bet you'd be too shy to do so too!"

that's it, that's enough talk. he needs to move his ass.

"give me twenty."

"what?"

the call ended.

and there you spent a while vibrating with anxiousness and, if you were to be completely honest, eagerness. in fact, you were pacing your living room floor in circles, staring at your screen where you can see the panicking messages you sent him after he hung up.

he can't possibly be going through all the efforts to get to you, can he? just for a kiss? shut up it's not just a kiss. he just got home after dropping you off at yours when the two of you started the call. he was, he denies it though, unable to go through a night without hearing your voice after such a fun day spending the only proper birthday celebration he had in his whole life, with you—his beloved you.

maybe you shouldn't have told him shit in the first place.

or better yet, maybe you should've just grew the balls and kissed him right after dropping you off at your door. by doing so, you could've saved yourself from this unnecessary feeling of anxiousness. perhaps the two of you might even spend the rest of the night on your couch kissing and kissing and kissing.

"eek!" you squeaked at the sudden rounds of urgent knocks on your door.

he took less than twenty minutes to get here.

standing in front of your door, your hand hesitates to turn the knobs. oh, is your palm sweating? was it just you or is it a little hot in here?

"i know you're right there, open up."

"okay okay," with a huff and a quick prayer to the lord above, you pull the door to reveal a pouty scaramouche, arms crossed over his chest and his foot tapping the ground impatiently. his hair is in disarray, probably from how he haphazardly tossed on his hoodie over his head in his rush to get to you.

"you didn't have to go all the way here."

"i wanted to."

with an attitude huff, he welcomed himself to your house, kicking the door shut behind him before reaching over your waist to pull you close—the corner of his lip twitched up in a smug smile at your silent gasp.

"t—this is a little too close."

"hm?"

you couldn't stop the shiver that you felt when his breath warms your cheeks, the tips of your noses brushing against each other at close proximity and the gentle squeeze of his arms around your waist, chest pressed against yours. it's not to say that he hasn't been this close before, you've latched yourself on him a couple of times, but you've never been this intimately close to the point of kissing.

"you literally smother your face on my neck when you demand your cuddles, i don't see how this is different."

"shut up."

"make me," he grins at the flabbergasted look on your face, "i'm pretty sure you know just how to do that."

"you little shit."

with a sharp tug on his collar, your lips crashed like the rushing waves in the river against a rock. it's incredibly warm, the nerves that you felt when his lips met touched yours in a slightly clumsy pace, not just because his lips are warm but because suddenly your heartbeat started thumping against your ribcage, warm blood rushing through every fiber of your body whilst your lips melted against each other in a messy pace.

scaramouche felt no different from you. he feels too light headed to process that the both of you are still at the entrance hallway and that his hands are clawing around the back of your shirt, his nails digging a little across the fabric, eliciting a gasp from you that only excites him more.

god it felt too good to separate from you, he curses the irritating restriction of human nature to desire oxygen as he slowly pulls away from your swollen lips, warm breath mixing together.

your eyes follow the way his tongue peeks out to lick his lips.

"why didn't you do this earlier?" he groans, lips tracing warm kisses along your cheeks, jaw and neck, "could've saved us from wasting time on nothing."

"i know, i know," you sighed contentedly, brushing your hand through his hair and completely melting in his arms when his lips reached a particular spot on your neck. "but you're here now."

"yeah," he cups your cheeks in his hands, flickering back and forth your lips and your eyes. he whispers lowly before closing the gap once more.

"and i'm not going anywhere."

A little drabble in regard of Xiuhcoatl's creation/birth. Nothing lore-breaking or angsty (we have enough of that do we😁) First POV is from Xiuhcoatl. The second from Kukulkan.

__________________________________________

There was nothing but the ray of light and hues and colors fading in and out.

You don't have a name.

Yet.

You closed your eyes. They don't exist, yet. Darkness enclosing that nothingness, changing the blinding heat to bleak, but in essence nothing was transformed, not real.

You opened your eyes, now. And this time, they were very real. The thousands myriad of colors blurred, vision started to form in a true and right sight. Visible, something to be touched and could be said as real, not imaginary fatamorgana.

You did touch it, eventually. With your fingers, claws, talons. You have hands. Or something that could be classified as limbs.

It was heat unravelling, cooling. You have a form.

You are real.

And for the first time, cool night air touched your skin, your scales. Glimmering moonlight caressing your face. And the stars above hallowing your existence.

You were birthed from the flame itself.

Greetings, little one.

And someone welcomed the sunshine of their lifetime.

The King of Stars and Heaven themselves. Shadow upon claws. Moonlight personified.

Formidable Father spoke. What name shall I call you?

The sounds reverberating in your newly formed throat, gasping and crawling through your first inhalation and exhalation of breaths, air pulling and escaping your lungs said-

"...Huh?"

__________________________________________

Once, there was darkness.

And then, there was light.

Eyes opened, blinded.

Then slowly, the eyes flickered for a bit. Adapting to the light and the growing heat, replacing coldness.

And only by then, presence instead of loneliness.

But it had already been there just a little while ago. That presence approached. Arms, hands, one couldn't tell yet. But close was the presence, and when he touched one's form, patting the part one would later called 'cheeks', one could tell that he was the source of the heat and light.

And he was very warm. The first sunshine of your lifetime.

One would watch how his mouth move, the first attempt to draw out syllables, the first attempt to make a sound.

'Hello!' Eyes blinked once more. 'Hello,' he repeated, in the language that would later be classified as an infant's chatter, of how they communicate between each other. But in that moment, they understand each other well enough. 'My name is...'

It was silence. You two didn't realize it yet, but even he didn't forge his name yet. All things were nebulous and fragile at best, his name stuck in the moment of solidification and melting, again and again.

And yet, you imprinted that silence in your mind, the still unstable cast, where it could endure for eternity.

Why, it was the first name you've ever heard.

And it was also the first time you realized that there was a barrier between you and him. The thing that made you didn't melt into his touch The thing that made you hear his voice upon the air instead of hearing it inside your brain. The thing that you receive the warmth of his existence instead of radiating it by yourself.

Individuality.

Yet again, that form of nebulousness, perhaps, made him take a glimpse of your burgeoning thought. Unravel a crack inside the cave of your Id. And from that crack, came the first curve of the lips one would call in the tommorow; smile.

'I have an idea,' he said, now with a voice that was bubbling upon the fabric of reality.

"Your name shall be...'...Kukulkan!'"

You blinked once more. But it was not a form of adapting to the light, instead, you held the forms of his hands, pat it back, hoping that he also felt the warmth you started to radiate from himself.

And how your voice croaks, syllables bleedin to life and into existence, "...Kukulkan..."

That is your name.

The light of this universe beamed. He mouthed those syllables again and again and again, "Kukulkan! Kukulkan! Kukulkan!"

You know this not, but when the wind finally blew into this primal cradle of existence, it carried the syllables of your name first, not his.

And only then, that he drew the syllables of his own individuality. "My name's Xiuhcoatl! My name's Xiuhcoatl! I am Xiuhcoatl, and you are Kukulkan! Xiuhcoatl and Kukulkan!"

How warm was that day.

And you (know this too well. You know, too late. Too late to change anything. To fix everything-) not this also, but before this, he was cold. That he was merely ice and stone. But you came, and you were the first spark of joy of his universe.

Above and beyond, the White-Winged Dragon, Almighty Father of all, saw this proceeding with a heart burning with pride and wings that eclipsed the moon, as if feathers of a nest.

Sunrise Spring from Spyro: Year of the dragon.