With A S/o Who’s Much Taller Than Them

bonten online meeting (real) (not clickbait)

tw. loud noises, please lower your volume

𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔤𝔢𝔱 𝔧𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔰: 𝔰𝔞𝔫𝔷𝔲, 𝔯𝔞𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔪𝔞

❮★❯ summary: how will sanzu haruchiyo, haitani ran and hanma shuji act when they get jealous.

❮★❯ warnings: none, maybe bad writing.

❮★❯ disclaimer: english is not my first language, so forgive me for any mistakes.

sanzu is definitely one to get jealous and he is more than conscious about this. he knows himself and you enough to know that not everything you do is a reason to put him in a bad mood, but sometimes he just can’t help but feel like you’re doing all of that on purpose, is it really that bad that he wants to make sure you’re by his side every time you’re together? no, sanzu is just trying to protect you while he does his job assisting muto.

it doesn’t take him any more than just one second to make him feel like someone’s trying to take you away from him, like, he just needs you to look uncomfortable for him to act, leaving whatever he’s doing to appear by your side and, even if he’s not as tall or as strong as other toman’s members, his cold eyes and the fact that he has peculiar scars are everything he needs to scare the person away. he won’t even try to hide how jealous he is, he doesn’t care really, sanzu just wants them away from you so he could continue with what he was doing before someone decided to try their luck.

he tends to be mean to people he doesn’t like, so expect no less of him if he happens to open his mouth because what’s about to happen will leave with a pounding headache and the reminder to never have an argument with your boyfriend.

it’ll be pretty obvious just how jealous he is, you would know what he is feeling but not the reason behind it and it’s not like he will tell you, so you’ll have to investigate the possible causes for his sour mood. it’ll look like he is mad but, in reality, he’s just going through the very same scenario that made him feel like that, thinking of different ways he could’ve approached the situation to not make it that obvious.

sanzu will accept his jealousy only if you push him to. he’ll gladly die with his envious feelings before even coming close to accepting the fact that he doesn’t like to see you paying attention to anyone that’s not him, at least not the special attention you always give him. that is something he holds dear to his heart and would completely refuse to share.

he doesn't get jealous, not at all, he has never in his life felt jealous, not even when stupid guys try to get closer to you by faking some kind of accident, no, he never feels the need to beat their faces until they’re not recognizable anymore. that, obviously, is a lie because haitani ran is the ceo of reading to dirt anyone that thinks they can get close to you with those intentions without any consequences.

as confident as he is, it wouldn't take long before he begins to feel jealous. it would start as mere amusement, finding funny that someone had the guts to approach you when you’re clearly being surrounded by the haitani brothers and a bunch of other dangerous criminals that act under their command, but ran let’s them be, observing with interest as this stranger tries to get you to give your name and your phone number. then he’ll make a stupid joke in hopes of getting you in a better mood and there is where ran will draw the line. he knows you’re only laughing because you’re nice, but that doesn’t take away the fact that he feels the sudden urge to kill that idiot right there.

he’ll approach this person with confidence, a fake smile plastered on his face and an aura that can repel whoever is around. he’ll be “nice” every moment he gets to talk, making hurtful comments that will either make the stranger leave or make the situation extremely uncomfortable. whatever it is, you just need to be prepared for ran to be in his absolutely worst mood once he scares the person away.

although he won’t treat you any differently, you’ll know something it’s up with him the moment you’re alone. usually, ran is the one always doing the talking, speaking of everything that comes to his mind but now it’s you the one who’s doing all the talking

he won’t ever admit his jealousy mostly because he doesn’t want you to think lowly of him, trying to keep the oh so perfect image he worked so hard to keep, but he will definitely be way more affective with you for the rest of the day to compensate for his behaviour.

i think hanma is one of the characters that can get the most jealous in tr mostly because his personality is very volatile. as we have seen before, hanma only acts under his own interests so it wouldn’t be rare to see him getting mad when something doesn’t go the way he planned or when something takes his fun away from him.

even if he gets easily jealous, it would take a lot of time before he realizes what he’s feeling, mistaking it at first by simple annoyance when he sees you leaving to talk to someone else. just where are you going? weren’t you telling him about your day? his relaxed smile dropping the moment he sees you laugh with the one he was left for. it would take someone else to point out the fact that he might be jealous for him to realize that he actually is and, the moment he accepts it, it’s the moment all the fun you were having is gone because there’s no way you can ignore the tension in the air when suddenly you feel hanma’s arms circling your shoulders, his chin resting on top of your head while he gives an obviously fake smile to the person in front. it’ll be best if you just leave, pretending you both have something else to do in hopes hanma will let the problem go.

hanma is pretty much an asshole to everyone except you, so as you can imagine his behaviour towards the other person will be anything but kind. he’ll pretend as if nothing’s happening, including himself in the conversation you were having in hopes the person will get the point that he’s only faking his laugh. i feel like he’ll also be the type to put threats into his words in hopes to create a fight like the troublemaker he is.

i’ll be pretty obvious to you that he’s jealous, this guy won’t even try to hide it because, at the end of the day, it really makes him feel like you’re the only one that can get him that worked out without even being responsible for it.

hanma will one hundred percent admit his jealousy and he will do it in the most hypocritical way, finding it funny that even someone like him can get jealous. this will also show you just how much he cares about you, so please don’t go talking to other people if you were previously beside him.

❮★❯ requests are: closed!

LOOK AT HIM HES JUDGING YOU SJGDBS HE'S LIKE "KAY DUD YOU PICKED ME UP NOW WHAT? FCKING WEIRDO" AKJDBDNDSB HE'S SO CUTE

SEASONS OF BLOSSOM. [0.1]

love can start anywhere, even if yours started out fake.

genshintoon event hosted by @stellumi. img creds: "seasons of blossom" on webtoon.

part 1 (here!) — part 2 [wip]

pairing: xiao + gn!reader // word count: 4.4k // au: fake dating + high school // warnings: fluff, some swearing, reader's height not specified, very slight chilumi but not really (i just needed a character that was shorter than xiao that might like childe, also it's onesided)

author's note: as a writer who only writes fluff, i could not resist a fake dating au with xiao, especially if it's inspired by seasons of blossom. thanks to vera for letting me join this collab! you don't have to really read the webtoon series beforehand to read this, but it is recommended to better understand it! (if you do so, you can just glance at episode 2 + 3 to get a general idea ^^) this work is inspired off of "seasons of blossom" with many events changed, but otherwise i hope you all enjoy!

you like childe just a tiny bit, but you didn't think it was obvious or shown in your expressions at all. while he is seen as a friend of you and lumine, everyone in your class seems to nag at you and talk about how cute of a couple you two would be.

"you see... i like childe too," the girl across the table from you shyly says, and your mind blanks out—who was she again? she sat behind you in class, right? you weren't sure why you were sitting with her and her friends, just being waved over to their table as you and lumine had decided to go to burger king together for your lunch break.

you can hear lumine from beside you letting out a frustrated huff as the girl continues. "i don't really stand a chance of dating him, so just being friends with him would be nice!" your back visibly stiffens when her eyes move to look closely at you. "... but since you're close friends with childe, i wanted to ask you for help. would you be okay with that?"

"oh..." you awkwardly start with a chuckle. "we're just friends, so it really isn't my place to do, uhm... that. i'm not sure if i would be any help anyways."

"of course! you would be super helpful," the girl obliviously cheers and you're not sure if she even noticed your hesitance. "since i'm not really asking for much, can you introduce—"

"no," lumine coldly interrupts, and you sweatdrop at her sudden straightforwardness. she slams her phone down onto the table and all the girls across jolt in surprise. "we're not in elementary school, so why are you asking my friend for help to talk to someone?"

"w-what? why are you being like that lumine?" the girl stammers out while shaking her head. "[name] should be fine with it, so why—"

"because i like him too."

what? everyone around the table turns to lumine in surprise, especially you. she crosses her arms and holds her head up high, continuing with a deadpan look on her face. "i like childe too. so, no."

you can't help it—you yelp out in shock. "wait what?! you like childe? since when?"

"not for long." lumine simply says. "i don't think everyone heard you yet. should i get you a megaphone?"

you mumble out a little oops and a sorry, covering your mouth with your hands. you had no idea that lumine liked childe too—was she joking or just lying for fun?

"w-wow!" the girl's voice from across the table makes you turn to her. "you guys are best friends liking the same guy... what are you two going to do? what if [name] dates childe, lumine?"

your mind races—no one truly knows that you like childe a bit too, it hasn't been confirmed at all. and even if he did return the feelings (which unbeknownst to you, he did), could you do that to lumine and date him in front of her? your heart solemnly skips a bit in your chest, thinking what were these girls doing butting into other people's businesses anyway?

"i think there's a misunderstanding here," you start to speak up, and it's their turn to turn to you instead. "i... don't like childe."

"what?" you can see in your peripheral vision that lumine raises her eyebrow in confusion.

seeing that the other girls are confused too, you continue with the lying. "childe is my friend, yes—but i don't like him romantically like that."

"wait, really?" your classmate leans forward in her chair in absolute bewilderment. her hands palm down onto the table to hold herself up. "then who do you like, if not childe??"

ah, shit. you force a smile as your brain tries to list the people that have nothing at all to do with you. can you really lie your way out of this?

yes, you will, you make yourself think. do it for lumine.

without anymore stalling, you laugh out an awkward chuckle while scratching the back of your head. "i, uh... x-xiao! i like xiao!— you know, the guy who sits at the back of the class?"

while lumine abruptly sits up and yells at you a shocked, "no way in hell!" you can only sheepishly grin and hope that everyone will just believe you and forget about it in a week's time.

little did you know, the very guy that you mentioned is sitting at the table right behind yours— grimacing as his friend beside him (who was listening in on your conversation) spits out their drink at the sound of xiao's name.

you don't know what you have gotten yourself into.

(press "keep reading" to continue!)

"i still don't believe that you like xiao," lumine straightforwardly states. the two of you are standing at the staircase by your classroom, backs to the wall with her standing beside you. "really? the short guy who bumped into us last week?"

you can't help but giddily laugh, remembering what had happened. "well to be fair, i bumped into him first." it was true, you remember the day like it was just this morning.

both you and lumine walk out of the room at the start of your new semester, full of new classes, new teachers, and especially new classmates and students. she links her arm comfortably with yours as you two walk into the hallway. "holy crap, everything is so confusing. how are you and childe so settled in already?"

you can't help but giggle at her words. you open your mouth to respond when you suddenly feel your shoulder hit someone, and you turn to see a raven green-haired boy's head down to look at a game on a phone. one of his friends yelps out, "noo! i died!"

"sorry! are you okay?" you worriedly ask even as lumine still drags you along. you hold out your other hand to tap on the male's shoulder and he turns to you with a blank look. "hello?" ...what was his name again? "sorry for bumping into you—"

"it's fine, it's not my account anyway," the male calmly responds as his friend cries out something about losing a legendary item. your eyebrows only raise higher in concern.

"oh.. really? i'm still sorry, i didn't see you—"

"oh, forget it already!" lumine sighs out, exasperated as she keeps pulling you along. "you don't have to apologize so many times! and it's not your fault you couldn't see him, he's tiny as fuck!"

"l-lumine?!" you call out in surprise as you walk with her down the hallway. "how could you say that?" she only ignores you, continuing ranting about how rude they were for standing in the middle of the hallway. you turn around to look at the male and his friends while hoping that they weren't too offended.

you watch as the green-haired male only stares at you walk away, his friends hovered around him (and also above him, they're taller) while they hold out their hands with concerned looks, probably telling him not to think about what lumine said. you feel a bit bad, even debating going back to apologize for your friend's words when you see his mouth start to open to say something.

"hey," he calls out, and you can see lumine's head turn from beside you. the look of shock completely cascades over your face when he continues to say, "girl who's tinier than the guy who's tiny as fuck. you should grow yourself some common courtesy, it looks like you really need it."

"i still have no idea why you held me back from socking a punch to his face, that little idiot!" lumine's scoff brings you back to reality. you watch as she sips from a box of strawberry milk while her eyebrows narrow. "and by the way, i was lying about liking childe yesterday. i just wanted to say what that girl would say... you get what i mean, right?" she sighs out when you shake your head with a confused look. "you can drop the act, i know you like childe."

well, you confidently think. unfortunately for her, i'm not thinking about backing down anytime soon. "it's nothing like that, lumi. i was being honest, i really do like xiao."

"arghh!! don't say it again, you weirdo!" she cries out, and you giggle. "what's so good about him anyway?! i honestly don't get your type at all."

"he's cute," you speak truthfully— and technically, you were not lying. "his hairstyle suits him, and the way some of his hair strands wave around his face look really pretty." you do a quick motion with your hands to demonstrate and lumine raises her judging eyebrows at you. "and he always has this attractive red eyeliner on that matches his eyes perfectly, and—oh! and his lean figure fits his motorcycle jacket so satisfyingly to me. it's like he's those guys who are hot, pretty, and cute at the same time, don't you think?"

"no! stop rambling dummy!!" lumine visibly reddens, and you were sure that the last description you mentioned reminded her of her crush. you laughed as she spoke, "he's rude and brash! and super short!"

"hmm, kind of reminds me of someone," you funnily teased as the bell rang, and lumine whacked you lightly on the shoulder. "we should head back to class, that was the bell."

"you're such a fucking weirdo," lumine grumbled as you two walked down the stairs to your class floor. you could only keep giggling in return at her words, holding out your hand to take her milk box to throw away.

yet again, out of your notice and vision there he was; xiao at the top of the stairs, leaning against the wall as he looked down at his phone. his friends freaked out and fumbled from beside him, staring at him with a perplexed look.

"what are you going to do, xiao?" one of them, chongyun, asked. a blush was on his face just hearing you talk adoringly about xiao. "our classmate likes you!"

"what do you mean?" xiao simply replies with the phone still in his hands. "i'm gonna defeat this boss, that's what. that was just the warning bell."

"that's not what yunyun means!" hu tao, xiao's other friend, cries out. "remember when i spat out my drink at burger king at our classmates talking about you and childe?"

"yeah, very clearly," he sourly says. he remembers that they weren't really talking about him though—he was only mentioned when you brought up your crush on him.

hu tao ignores his words while ranting on. "that person already said that they liked you! twice! do you not care, oh-mighty nonchalant god?"

xiao only responds with a, "they have a name you know." he turns his head towards chongyun, motioning towards the phone in his hands. "you're on low health, yun."

the blue-haired male completely forgets about the conversation beforehand as he yelps out, "wait-wait-wait, drink a healing potion! that one! quickly!"

hu tao groans. "you two are so clueless!"

hu tao might be half right... but it seems that nobody notices the tips of xiao's ears blazing red, him standing between his friends looking over his shoulder at the phone. your words are still ingrained into his mind as he has to repeatedly take in your words and realize what you had said over and over again... do you actually like him?

ever since april and spring had started, new students were assigned the duty to clean the classroom once the school day was over so the old students from winter didn't have to do it anymore. unfortunately for lumine, your name was called along with the other names, meaning that you couldn't hang out as much after school anymore. you also felt a nudge on your shoulder from the girl (from burger king) who sat behind you, giving you a thumbs-up and a whispered "good luck!" when xiao's name was called as well. you two were stuck on mop duty while childe and zhongli did dusting and amber and yoimiya were on broom duty.

"we should probably come later next time since we have to mop after the brooms," you spoke awkwardly, gripping the handle of your mop to your chest as you stood beside xiao in the back of the classroom. everyone else seemed to lively clean the room together as you two were quiet, xiao on his phone while you guys waited for everyone else to finish together.

the only thing he said in return was a "yeah." and it was silent once again after that.

then came midterms— meaning the students didn't have to clean after the day was over until midterms were over. you quickly gazed at the questions of your paper as the teacher called out instructions, your hand reaching for your pencil bag until you realized you didn't have the right pen the teacher mentioned beforehand. you calmly scooted to the side of your chair and tapped on lumine's shoulder, who sat diagonally to the left and front of you, and she turned and raised her eyebrow at you.

"oh shit, i don't have an extra scantron pen," lumine silently cursed after you told her your problem. she pondered for a while with a finger tapping her chin. "if you want, i can ask the teacher for you—"

"no-no, it's okay," you quickly whispered with a smile. "i'll just ask around, thank you lumi."

she sent you a worried look and a good luck thumbs-up as you leaned back into your chair. swallowing your nerves, you turned around and asked the girl behind you, "hey, do you have an extra scantron pen?"

she shook her head with a sad look, "sorry, i only brought one. maybe ask kyun?"

well crap, you didn't know who that was. you just simply nod your head and whisper a small thank-you before turning back around with a sigh. even if the teacher would scold you in front of everyone, you would just have to ask her if you could borrow one. it didn't seem like there was another way out of this situation.

however, right as you are about to raise your hand, you see a subtle hand out of the corner of your eye place a pen (the exact pen you needed) at the side of your desk. your eyes can't help but widen in shock— everyone you asked didn't seem to have an extra pen, so how did someone else notice that you needed one?

"xiao!" the teacher calls out, and you turn to look up at him with surprise and a little guilt for getting him into any possible trouble. "what are you doing standing up? we are about to start a test."

"i accidentally dropped something," he calmly replies, holding up his other hand with a pen in it. "i need it for the test."

everyone's eyes seem to fly to xiao's figure, and you freeze up as you definitely feel the eyes of lumine and the girl behind you on you. the teacher sighs as she says something along the lines of ask next time, and motions for xiao to sit back down. when he glances at you as he turns around, your heart literally skips a bit before sending him a thankful look before he walks back to his seat.

lumine's eyes feel like they take a while to leave your face, and for the rest of your test, the only thing you can think about is xiao's sunset eyes gazing into yours— even if it was just for half a second. you couldn't even tell if your warm face would ever cool down until you were done answering all of the questions on your papers.

however, lumine's eyes weren't the only ones on you. hu tao stared at the back of your head in awe, absolute surprised at what had just happened.

xiao, the introvert. xiao, the tsundere. xiao, the quiet, scarily good gamer. xiao, the one hu tao knows very well that doesn't like to interact with people at all, just voluntarily stood up and gave you one of his extra pens. well to be honest— his only pen. xiao had turned around in his seat and ordered hu tao to give him one of her extras, because she "always brings a shit-ton of writing utensils". hu tao could only watch in astonishment when he stood up and put his pen onto your desk, and not only that, but also flat-out lied to the teacher with an excuse.

if hu tao said that she wasn't shocked a little bit, then she would be straight-up lying to everyone's faces.

"it's been a while since we had to clean," you start to say, mopping one side of the classroom with xiao mopping the other side. the fact that it was just the two of you inside with unbearable silence was killing you, and although it would be awkward, starting small talk sounded a bit better than two high schoolers silently mopping together. "how did you do on your midterms?"

"alright," is all he says, and you chuckle nervously in response while continuing with the mopping. you keep your eyes focused on the ground, finally realizing why lumine didn't believe your lie of having a crush on xiao—he's complete opposites with childe. while childe is chaotic and full of life, energy, and fun, xiao is quiet and keeps his hobbies to himself. he doesn't seem to speak up much unless asked to, and he seems to keep an expressionless look on his face. and you told lumine that you were crushing on this guy? whoever believed you probably had their eyes on their ass.

you look up when the front of your mop hits against another one, and meet the eyes of xiao in the process. you guys had finished mopping the room, finally meeting at the same side, but it's like you can't stop laughing to make up for the silence when you're with xiao— a brand new giggle bubbles out of you instinctively.

"we met," you point out the obvious, tapping his mop lightly with yours and then pulling it back to your side with a little aftermath of embarrassment. your head suddenly perks up at remembering something to say, and you let out an ahem before speaking again. "oh and, uh... thank you for lending me your pen last time. it was a lot of help."

speaking of which; you had yet to return his pen back to him. you're about to turn around to go to your backpack when xiao suddenly speaks up too, saying your name.

you don't even have a real crush on him— so why does your figure still, stiffening up at the sound of his voice casually saying your name?

"yeah?" you question. is he going to say you're welcome, or something nonchalant like it was nothing? you look at him expectantly while waiting for his answer.

and then out of nowhere: "i thought you liked me."

you completely freeze up as your heart feels like it comes to a complete stop, the mop handle falling out of the palms of your hand as your mouth opens with no words coming out. the male in front of you bends down and expertly catches the mop before it can fall and hit your leg, your figure still in a shocked state.

how did he know? did lumine tell him? there's no way she would— you know that she doesn't want to believe your lie, wanting you to admit your original crush already. besides, even if you really did have a crush on him, your best friend wouldn't be a snitch. xiao just watches as the your startled look turns to one of utter confusion, your fingertips touching when he places the mop back into your hands.

"...huh? w-what are you talking about?" you slowly start to speak, yet another nervous chuckle falling out of your lips. was he really just that good at reading you like a book? not only did he notice that you needed a pen from the back of the classroom, but he found out that you fake-liked him. how did he do it?

you're about to stammer out an excuse when he plainly says, "you yelled it out at burger king a few weeks ago. like this—

"ah! h-haha, uhm!!" you stammer to interrupt him, holding out your other hand to stop him from reenacting what you said before and humiliating you further. "i didn't know you were, er, there..."

oh shit. truly, you ask yourself what have you gotten yourself into? oh goodness— out of all the people you could've chose, why did your brain land on xiao? did it have to be xiao? and why did he have to be at burger king the same time and day as you? where would this even get you?

well... an offer for a fake dating relationship, that's what.

and it brings you unfortunately to now, the two of you as the center of attention the next day in the back of the classroom, because xiao had just carelessly and emotionlessly announced to everyone that you had started dating, on this very day. you didn't know he would— all you did was whisper in his ear, asking him a question about the relationship you two would fake that you talked about yesterday.

the only thing you can do is try to keep a calm smile on your face (and absolutely fail while doing it), spine stiffening up as xiao reaches for your hand and casually holds it in his. even as lumine slams open the door and curses out a "no fucking way!" he still holds your hand up, almost like he's rubbing it in her face in a you were wrong way.

the first thing xiao thinks when he holds your hand is that it's warm—almost like you.

your personality is warm, your aura is warm, even the way you speak is warm. you seem to be nice to everyone even if they were annoying, like the people who kept asking what answers you got after the midterms. you throw people's lunch trays away for them when they ask and you once even told him that you could mop the classroom by yourself, which he declined.

he hates it. he doesn't like how kind you are, and how much of a pushover you seem. you let people walk all over you and don't do a single thing about it. it makes his mind go mad.

... but it kind of makes him feel like someone should be there by your side, to protect you. to play the bad guy and tell people to get lost when they try to order you around.

"sorry if i offended you," you had said the previous day after he had put away the mops, his back to the window and you seated in front of him on a chair. you had just explained the whole situation; about lumine and childe, about the crushes, and why you lied. even the way you fidgeted with your fingers in your lap made him want to look away in disgust, but it was you, your voice, and your hands. it was at least a bit bearable. but xiao could already tell from the way you avoided his gaze that you were thinking about a lot of other things— what to say, what to do, and what you shouldn't do.

"what did you want to achieve by lying?" xiao straightforwardly asked as you finally—and awkwardly—looked up to meet his stare. "you don't care if childe dates someone else? are you really going to back down for your friend?"

"um, it's not like that," you nervously say, then quickly add, "backing down, i mean. but either way, i don't plan on dating someone my best friend has feelings for anyway."

xiao ponders for a moment with a hand in his pocket, keeping his eyes on you until you eventually look away to the side. "does your friend believes your lie?"

you chuckle in response. "ah, definitely not." the male notices that you always seem to be laughing whenever your blonde friend is around or mentioned—you guys must be close. you continue to talk while taking your jacket off, "i'm trying to convince her, but she definitely thinks that i still like childe. i just wish we could get it over with."

he thinks, staring at you pull one of your arms out of your sleeves. for someone who seems like a stubborn pushover, your lying was pretty good—when you were rambling about his looks at the staircase, he almost believed you himself. the tips of ears even turn red at the thought of thinking about it again, but he reminds himself that you were just acting. anyway, what would even be the ideal way to get out of this situation? it didn't seem like just insisting to your friend that you had a crush would continue to work.

"want me to help you?"

"huh?" you look up confused from shrugging off your jacket, then put on a little smile. "oh, this? it's okay, i'm done taking it off anyways."

"what?" xiao raises his eyebrow, and something in him almost wants to scoff from amusement as you awkwardly stiffen up from realization. "why would i help you take off your jacket?"

"t-then what did you mean??"

"you don't care what childe thinks, so it's just lucy that's the problem now, right?" xiao simply asks as he steadily leans off of the wall. taking one of his hands out of his pocket, he runs it through his hair to push aside the hair strands in his eyes, staring at you while waiting for your reply.

"her name is lumine," you slowly speak with your eyes meeting his. "a-and i guess?"

"then it's simple." he steps forward and you stop breathing for a moment— his face is only inches away from yours. you can see every speck of golden red in his amber eyes from here, and count all of his raven-green hair strands from his black hair strands. his scent is sweet— something varying between caramel and honey, but you can't put your finger on it.

well, it's not like you have time to anyway. not when you freeze up at his words; "just go out with me."

"w-what?" you jolt in your chair, abruptly scooting back and looking up at him with a start. "what are you talking about?"

this time xiao finally smiles in amusement. actually, not even a smile— it's practically a small, amused smirk.

"lumine will believe you if we're dating."

end of part one.

ending author's note: now i could be mean and just leave it off here, and although i really want to, i'm not evil 🙏 see ya guys in the next one after i write it!

don't you realize our bodies could fall apart any second?

141 x male!reader

⚠︎ REPOST FROM PREVIOUS BLOG ⚠︎

warnings: gore, cod typical violence, foul language, kinda angst-y, could be read as either romantic or platonic, actually scratch that very angsty, death, alot of contemplating death, honestly mostly price centered lolz, its also like basically the convoy chase scene so yeah

notes: ⚠︎ this was a request from my previous account!! so uh 🪷 if u see this then here :3 ⚠︎ tsym for requesting !! this was crazy fun to write and i was really excited to work on it!! i had to fudge around some details for it to make a little more sense logistically speaking -- also sorry for taking a long ass while to get it done, but i hope you like regardless :)

(and yeah 🪷 is fine lol)

The horizon of the young night, painted in soft, deep blues, and splattered with stars like the flick of a paint brush, almost completely takes you out of your head. You don't often get the chance to enjoy the beauty around you, and even as you do in this moment, there's shouting and gunfire ringing in the background. Even the heavy pitter patter of rain can't deafen. It was ironic in a way--  you could probably find a cliche metaphor in there somewhere.

The huff of the helicopters rapid blades muffle what you can hear, even with your headset securely cuffed around your ears. The relentless wind beats against your skin, grabbing and pulling at your hair ferociously.

Even after all this time, these missions never fail to get your nerves up.

You feel your heart pound against your chest as Captain Price, in the seat besides the pilot, continues to bark out orders and directions. Pursing your lips, you bring your guns scope back to your eye, grip so tight you might've thought you've left your fingerprints indented into the plastic. You're squatted down on the helicopters floor, leaned against the wall as you use it for cover. Your bullets fly from the open door, aimed for the hostile vehicles set on evading your team.

Sergeant Kyle Garrick, or rather Gaz, mirrors your position on the adjacent side of the door-- Soap and Ghost no doubt holding similar positions behind you.

It's almost looking like this whole thing might go your way.

"Gaz-- [L/N]!" Price calls out over coms. "Anti-Air teams locking onto us-- your side!"

Your aim almost instinctively finds them-- large red lasers all seeming to be pointing directly at you. You squeeze your finger against the trigger, a cold sweat washing over you as you realize your bullets are doing nothing to their body armor. You felt the rhythmic jolt of your gun in your arms-- realizing you were swiftly running out of time, you called by to price, finger never leaving the trigger. "Captain-- They're wearing armor, we can't---!"

"INCOMING!" The frantic shout from Gaz cuts you off, eyes widening as you attempt to shield yourself from the missile blazing towards you. 

Your breath hitches as the heli begins to shake and spin-- you move from the door, pressing your back against the wall, madly grabbing onto whatever you can.

The pilots voice sounds in your ear, her voice strong, yet clearly frenzied. "We're going down, Y'all-- I need to execute an emergency lan-" Another large boom cuts her off, sending the heli plummeting to the ground, violent jerks being an attempt from the pilot to keep you from being obliterated the moment you'd make impact with the ground.

You try to maneuver to a more secure position as the heli grows unstable, but feel as the ground slips from under you, your back crashing again the floor with a heavy thump, head bouncing roughly against it.

Smoke fills the air, and your lungs, as alarms blare from the helis systems. There's a frantic cacophony of shouts as you fumble for anything to hold onto, nails screeching against metal as you claw to keep yourself alive. You feel your body lose to gravity as you begin to slip out, your gun now long gone.

your body dangles outside the heli, as chaos ensues. Your breath is rapid as you're just almost able to lift yourself back into 'safety.' but the rain has made everything slick and unstable. Your grip, your clothes, the metal.

Another hit to the tail end sends the helicopter to the point of no return. Plummeting downwards at seemingly impossible speeds-- in just a few seconds the chopper dove nose first into the ground, the screeching of metal aching on before coming to a silent hault.

The wreckage is still-- silent for a moment.

A sore groan stumbles from Prices throat as he forces his eyes open, a dull pain spreading through his body. On instinct, his hand goes to reach for the pilot, still sitting besides him. He stops as his eyes reach her-- her eyes wide open, empty, a strange glassy eyed stare bore into him. Broken glass litters her deep completion, the hair that had escaped her once neat bun lay stuck to her forehead as sweat and blood coats her flesh.

His chest tightness as he looks past her, into the cabin. After a moment of deadly silence, as if he were scared to ask, he finds his voice. "Are you-" a cough cuts him off, he almost instinctively turns away as he continues to hack through his sentence. "Are you alright!?"

He's partially relieved when a slew of groans answers him. Turning back, ignoring the stare of the pilot, he tries for an exit from the windshield, having been shattered upon impact. As he climbs from the cockpit, he hopes his voice is still loud enough for his team to hear. "Gaz?"

His head snaps as a figure emerges from the wreckage, pushing heavy scraps of metal from its way, and stumbling out from what remained of cabins open door. "'m alright..." He groans out in a hushed whisper, blood coating his forehead. It seems Gaz is still trying to process what's happened.

"Soap?"

As if on cue, Soap follows in Gaz's steps, footing unstable as he attempts to climb out. A string of barely legible curses are spat from his mouth before finally answering with an "I'm fine." The mostly agitated sort of growl sounded like it'd hurt his throat.

Soap extends a hand into the wreckage, a skeleton clad glove reaching for it, gripping it with a grunt as Soap pulls him up.

"Ghost, you alright mate?"

"Not dead yet." Is all he responds, stumbling from the rubble. 

"[L/N]?"

Again, everything's still.

Rain pounds against his head, soaking his hair. He must've lost his hat somewhere in the wreckage.

"[L/N]!" He calls again, straining to listen for your reply. He hisses out a curse as he moves to the demolished, Ghosts voice stopping him mere seconds later.

"Price." He says it like a whisper, not even turning to look at his Captain. Its like he's frozen in panic.

Price turns, his gaze following ghosts a few feet from the crash. barely visible through the rain is a still body.

Your body.

Price doesn't register the fact that he's moving, his feet almost slipping against the mud, till he practically falls to his knees, the momentum of his movement pushing him into your body when he comes in close. His hands hover over your form, fearful his touch might shatter you.

You're on your side, limp as Price continues to mindlessly call your name, as if pleading with you to just hop up, pretending like the crash was just a scrape to your knee. "No, no, nonono- [Y/N]-!"

He rolls you onto your back eyes shooting to a large shard-like piece of metal stabbed into your side. Smaller pieces of shrapnel have torn into your clothes and buried themselves under your skin. His hope begins to falter just before you force out a breath, face twitching on discomfort as you shakily come to. You force your eyes open, meeting the fear-stricken frown of your captain.

Price lets out a breath of relief, putting on a smile to mask his panic. It doesn't work well.

You know something's wrong.

Scoffing at his almost fatherly attempt at comfort, you crack a smile, speaking through a sickly, dry throat. "Now be for real with me, old man; just how bad is it?" He's looking at you like you're a dog about to be put down.

He doesn't answer you.

Heavy boots bound towards you, snapping Price from his poorly concealed panic. His head snapps towards the rest of the team-- but he doesn't have to say a word. They're already doing what they have to.

You hear a certain sort of zip of fabric before you feel Ghosts unmistakeable warm hands pressed against you. You're covered in rain, dirt, and your own blood.

Price is still knelt by your head, trying to keep your attention on him-- trying to keep you talking, to keep you conscious. So it's that bad, huh?

"Kid, can you feel anything?"

You ponder the question, a strange happenstance that you don't know quite how to answer that question. "I feel..." You notice the gush of warmth flow out of your body, and a pulsing dullness. Nothing else. As you breath in to answer, you feel more blood gush from you. "Warm. It's kinda gross, actually." You went to laugh, but your chuckle is caught in your throat. You feel a strange sort of painful stabbing sensation in your legs-- like pins and needles amped up to a hundred. You don't say anything, just silently wince.

Price wordless stands, shouting into his walkie-talkie, as you look to Ghost. You don't dare look at the damage you've been dealt, just barely catching a glimpse of his scarf pressed against your skin, your red staining the once tan fabric.

You snap your eyes up, attempting to focus on the breath you're swiftly loosing. Your breathing grows shallow, despite your efforts to swallow back more air-- it's as if your lungs are simply refusing to work. Your chest aches as you fight for deeper breaths, as if your a fish fighting to survive above the water-- breathing a painful chore.

You try to move, to put a hand around your throat to sooth yourself, but your limbs all feel numb-- heavy, yet jelly-like all the same. It's as if some invisible force is holding you down.

your hearing begins to distort-- almost sounding like your head was plunged underwater, all voices and sounds fading beyond much of your understanding. You recognize Prices voice, shouting into his coms. His words echo three or four times, yet to you it's devoid of any substance or meaning.

Your vision blurs-- maybe it's the rain getting in your eyes, or maybe you're really just dying. You scowl at the cliche you're living through. At the very least, you now know all those books and movies held some truth to them.

he pain worsens as you try to speak to Ghost. "I swear to God, L.T, if I start rambling about seeing a bright light, just shoot me." Ghost doesn't find your attempt at humor very funny.

You're vision begins to go black, fading from the sides until only a fuzzy circle of your vision was left. For a moment you're struggling to figure out whether or not your eyes are closed.

Price continues to shout about medical evac, Gaz is at Ghosts sides, applying pressure to the multiple puncture wounds littering your abdomen as they try to work out a plan to move you to evac without potentially further harming you. Soap is at your side, his gloved hand protectively grabbing onto yours. You think he's talking to you, and you think you're answering, maybe offering him a joke or two to comfort his panic, but you can't be sure. This goes on for awhile, like you were stuck living the same minuet over and over again.

A ringing slowly floods your ears, and all at once your pain is eased. In the midst of such chaos around you, you find a quiet. A stillness. A sort of comforting peace washing over you.

The warmth of your blood is strangely curing. It reminds you of various memories from deep within your childhood-- lost instances of a tender embrace, being lulled to sleep in the arms of a loved one, dark and silent.

Death was an inevitable thought in your line of work. Honestly, the thought was probably the most consistent thing you had in your life. It was always pretty scary-- you didn't know when you'd die, how, what would come after-- frankly it scared you. But now, in the ease, there was a mysterious certainty in the cradle of death, you found yourself accepting the idea as if it were a gift you'd been waiting for.

"[Y/N]?" You've stopped answering Soap. Your instinct is to fight heft in your eyelids, but you're just so tired. As you begin to surrender to the peace, Soaps thick accent cuts through it. "No-- stay with me, [Y/N]!" He shifts his position, laying your head on his lap as his hands rest on your face, shaking your head to keep you awake.

His shout of protest gets Prices attention. Price approaches yet again and takes Soaps former place. He places a hand on your chest and shoulder, shaking you lightly. As he begins to speak, you roll your head towards him, barely making him out through the fuzz. "C'mon, stay with me, son." He sees that sort glassy glint in your eyes. "Don't close your eyes-- close your eyes and you're a goner. Jesus fuck--! Don't you fucking die on me-- that's an order!" His voice shakes despite himself.

You aren't afraid of death. You always thought you'd die slow and painful, but this was....Nice. There's no pain, no fear, nothing but numb. You struggle for a reason to not simply give into yourself-- maybe this was just your time. You're tired-- you're young, but so fucking tired. Why not let go? What are you holding on for?

Your head rolls to the other side. Ghost and Gaz's hands are coated in your blood, their clothes possibly forever stained with the memory of your life fleeting from under their palms. You can feel the warmth of Soaps lap from under your head, one hand lightly slapping your face, and the other combing back your hair with tender care. Weather its to sooth you, himself as a nervous tick, or to just keep your mud soaked hair from your face, it's still appreciated. Price has screamed his throat raw. You never thought you'd see the man falter, but you could feel his once strong hands seem to crumble again you as they gripped almost pathetically at your vest and shirt.

Suddenly you had your answer.

You draw a shallow breath.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Cap."

I finally finished this navigation thingy, doesnt took me that long tho

AH, ITS OKAY TAKE UR TIME!! don’t forget to rest!!

-anon who requested a part 2 of akito fic

ANONNN AGAIN IM SO SORRY FOR THE IDK HOW LONG THE DELAY OF REQUEST IS, AND EXAM IS NEARING TOO IM SO SORHEHDUSJ

Quotev

What Does Lucifer (Obey Me) Think Of You

What's Lucifer's opinion on you?

I made a Lucifer Quiz and I'm liking it, try it out~ 😌

This is too good seriously too good holy shit....

put a ring on it.

premise. snippets of daily life between a humble servant and an increasingly clingy master.

word count. 5.2k

note. reader full of snark + dumbass in love ayato = gratuitous amount of banter. i have to say that ayato never goes out of line though, and you're not actually bothered by his advances; you're just a massive tsundere.

“With all due respect, I don't believe being your headrest is part of my duty, my lord.”

“Is that so?”

The noncommittal response pointedly marks the end of his acknowledgement as Ayato makes no effort to sit up, remaining slumped against your frame. His head rests upon your shoulder, a ticklish sensation blooming where the junction between your neck and chin meet. Pale blue hair trail prickling heat where it grazes your skin, an itch you can't quite scratch away.

Even so, the discomfort doesn't reflect on your face, frigid expression carefully layered with blankness. His sinking weight fails to impede your immaculate posture, refined poise a great disparity from his leisurely disposition. It paints an odd picture, the ordinarily faultless heir lacking decorum. Though granted the freedom to do as he wishes in the private confines of his room, it is a mystery why a servant such as you is... graciously permitted to bask in his exclusive company. In the private confines of his room. You feel the need to emphasize that detail.

In his hands lays a scroll concerning governmental affairs, urgent matters that demand his attention, so you can't begin to comprehend why he insists on using this time to harass reward a lowly servant with his valuable presence when there is business to attend to.

He leans more of his weight to your side, and he—you nearly sputter indignantly—mimics an action that can almost be described as nuzzling. “Mhm. This is convenient for me, since I've hardly found the time to rest today. Do you find it intolerable?”

Ignoring the last bit, you advise, “Perhaps it would be more effective if you were to rest in your chambers. I will come call when the Kanjou Commission asks for you.”

He pretends to consider it for a moment, the silence filled with the quiet jingle of wind chimes. Predictably, the corners of his mouth hook up to a smile. “I would prefer to stay, if you don't mind?”

Resigned to your fate, you can only say, “Of course not, my lord.”

For reasons you cannot fathom, the head of the Kamisato household harbors a strong attachment to you.

In normal circumstances, this fact would be taken as great news; presently, you are little more than puzzled and unfeeling. Rather than delight, dread stirs in your stomach whenever he calls your name in a volume louder than necessary—a conscious decision, you presume, since he seems to interact with other servants just fine. Curt and polite, keeping his words concise, preventing further delay from addressing his responsibilities.

Had you not known better, you wouldn't be able to identify him as the same man who indulges in trivialities when he invites you to share snacks, engaging in frivolous chatter over tea and pastries. With increasing frequency nonetheless, and with varying refreshments each time to boot, ranging from an assortment of wagashi. Strawberry daifuku on one tea break, mizu-yokan on the next, sakura mochi on the day after that... You've been serving him for a considerable amount of time, but he's never been much of a sweet tooth until as of late.

Ayato hums thoughtfully, savoring the sweet taste on his tongue. “The mild flavor is pleasant. I believe it might be to your liking.”

He offers you a cup, steam curling above the warm brew. The pink beverage glistens beneath the sunlight, rippling with movement when you take it into your hands. It doesn't require much thinking to conclude the tea leaves must've cost a fortune, but it leaves you plenty of questions just as well. Why would a benefactor give you a taste of luxury?

But you would be a fool not to appreciate it while it lasts, so you lift the cup for a sip.

The flavor of spring bursts in your mouth, fragrant and tasting of sweet nectar. Your frosty guise wavers under the bribery, bliss crossing your face before your lips quirk up to a small, almost imperceptible smile.

Deeming your elated reaction satisfactory, Ayato nudges the plate of confections towards your side of the table. “Eat. They pair well with the tea.”

Who are you to say no to your lord? Therefore, the correct choice must be to gratefully accept his gifts!

(Distracted by desserts, you fail to see his amusement in the way you stuff your cheeks full adorably like a chipmunk.

But he's aware it's not the right time yet, so he suppresses the urge to pinch your face.)

Kamisato Ayato is often praised for his intellect and cunning mind, but sometimes you wonder if he'd finally gone stupid after all that overthinking.

“My hand feels cold,” he laments, as if he hadn't chucked away his gloves ten seconds prior. “Can I hold yours for a moment?”

Ayaka, for her part, looks ashamed on her brother's behalf. With a graceful flick of her wrist, her fan snaps open and obscures the mortified expression on her face. Thoma's bottom lip quivers, valiantly repressing his bubbling laughter though he turns quite ugly in the process.

Sending a prayer to the heavens, you hope your face looks as unreadable as you think it to be. “...I'll fetch you a pair of gloves,” you say, side-stepping the pair he just abandoned on the floor.

“Mhm. That won't be necessary,” he counters, tugging on the edge of your sleeve. “You see, I heard those granted Pyro Visions have warmer body temperature...”

That is undoubtedly a lie he conjures up on the spot.

“...So I was hoping to sate my curiosity today,” he finishes, looking far too pleased with himself. Ayaka avoids your gaze when your eyes sweep past her (she absolutely knows it's an idiotic idea because going by that logic, she should have a colder temperature... but that is obviously not the case), and Thoma is blatantly ignoring your requests for assistance, whistling an awkward tune.

You have half a mind to shift the duty to another retainer similarly bearing a Pyro Vision, who is currently trying his hardest to stifle his pained grunts when you pinch his forearm admonishingly, but there's really no way out of this. Ayato would undoubtedly craft another bullshit reason to coax you anyway. (A part of you thinks it might be fun to keep up the charade just to hear what he'd say next.)

“Right.” You hold up your hand, and Ayato's eyes flicker with mischief. His slender fingers wrap around your wrist, brushing over the jut of your bone. He marvels at the size of it, dwarfed by his large hands, and he curls his fingers tighter.

...He doesn't seem to be assessing your temperature.

But you are mindful of his, a searing heat devouring your senses. His light touches settle heavily on your skin, a prominent warmth amidst the cold gale. Where his fingers rest leave imprints of fire, trails of scorched ash in his wake.

Experimentally, his thumb rubs circles on your palm, tracing over the lines. He rolls the soft flesh, staring at the small cuts and calluses with an attentive eye. Burning the image into his mind. Fiddling with the shape of your fingers. Then, following a brief hitch of his breath, he fits his own in the spaces between yours.

His hand is soft, you think to yourself. Without the presence of leather, it is fully bare, pale and dusted with pink. His knuckles are pronounced, palm surprisingly unscarred in spite of vigorous sword practice, but a writer's callus lay on his ring finger. It is easy to imagine his frame hunched over his desk, pen between his fingers, ink running dry from writing back to missives and signing endless contracts.

(And responding to engagement offers. You would know. They clutter his workspace, scented letters branded by wax seals of a distinguished family's emblem.

He barely throws a cursory glance at them before giving his never changing answer.)

When he gives your hand a squeeze, you finally ask, “Is it warm?”

“Yes.” He sounds somewhat strangled, there, less confident than he was before he took your hand. “Very warm.”

He reluctantly parts with it, stepping back to reduce your close proximity. Ayaka fans herself as she scrutinizes his reddening complexion, and Thoma—partial to the lord, you see, even though he wasn't very eager to lend you a hand before—makes some excuse about a meeting he has to attend to (some beetle fight with Itto, most likely) and if you'd kindly excuse their presence.

“...Please pardon my brother's strange behavior,” Ayaka murmurs when only the both of you remain in the room. “He could be quite straightforward when his curiosity is piqued. He doesn't have weird intentions, really.”

She doesn't appear to believe it herself, but you appreciate her attempts to clean up Ayato's mess.

“It's no trouble, milady.” You flash a placating smile for good measure, reaching down to collect the discarded gloves Thoma nearly tripped on in his way out. “But I'm afraid I'll have to take my leave now as well...”

“Yes, of course! You may go.”

Following her affirmation, you scramble to take a duster and retreat to clean the library.

Mercifully, she doesn't comment on your flushed cheeks and colored ears. (There's only so much composure you can exhaust within one day.)

For all that you (privately) complain about the extensive list of chores to tackle in the Kamisato Estate, you find tending to the garden fairly enjoyable. Alas, you can't exactly spend the whole day pruning the shrubbery; the smile on your face drops immediately when you're sent to go on a shopping trip. Worse still, with no one to assist you in carrying the groceries. Thoma had already promised to accompany Ayaka for a mission, and everyone else is busy preparing for the Kamisato head's upcoming business trip.

Said Kamisato head is apparently “free” and “has the spare time to help” despite being the one who should be busy holing himself up in his office.

Regardless of your protests, Ayato insisted on tagging along to the market. Which brings you to your current situation, your employer dutifully carrying bundles of cloth and a basket of radishes and carrots with an easygoing smile, while your hands remain empty. He is... considerate, if you were to speak in flowery words. He is stubborn, if you were to be blunt.

However, he is relatively obedient, save for the handful of times he rushes off to chase something that caught his eye. As a result, he keeps purchasing cheap trinkets he'll probably have no use for and his pocket is brimming of candy he sometimes stuffs your mouth with when you have something to scold him for. (To be fair, it's very effective for shutting you up.)

“Please don't interrupt me from speaking,” your words are partly muffled, mouth still chewing on the confection. Ayato smiles innocently, pressing another piece of sugar to your lips.

“Where are we headed next?” He questions, looking around the bustling streets as he tucks the jar of konpeito in his sleeve. “Do you still have vegetables you need to buy?”

You shake your head. “No, the cook said he's only missing radishes and carrots in particular. I've also gotten the materials needed to mend clothes Thoma asked for.”

He deflates at that, disappointment painting his expression. “I suppose we're returning, then?”

You purse your lips, considering your options. It wasn't like you were told to come back an appointed time, and you could always blame Ayato for your tardiness... “Does my lord wish to visit anywhere specifically?”

The river of stars in his eyes twinkle ever so slightly, flashing a thinly-veiled childish gleam. “Not anything I could think of at the top of my head. Do you have any recommendations in mind?”

“Recommendations?”

“Places you like to visit.”

During your free time, you usually look around to shop for clothing or accessories... but they're nowhere near the quality befitting of nobles. The yukata isn't tailored to your size, made from cheaper cloth of cotton, and aren't as decorative to what your lord is used to; it's what makes it affordable. Whereas Ayato is often dressed in luxurious silks, embellished with golden thread and customized to his liking.

“It's no harm to bring you there... I guess.” you scratch your cheek. “Though I can't guarantee you'll like it.”

“Nonsense.” He smiles amicably. He reaches for the basket before you can grab it, gesturing for you to start walking. “I'm sure I'll have a good time regardless where it is.”

And... he does. He marvels at the extravagant brocades displayed at boutiques, wondering how one could possibly wear so many heavy layers. Though he doesn't buy clothes for himself, he decides to buy a cute purse he thinks his sister would appreciate.

Ayato expresses interest in ornaments and cosmetics as well, to which the shop owner proceeds to happily introduce her entire catalogue for a man she knows has deep pockets. He doesn't disappoint.

“You don't want anything?” He asks when you only answer his questions pertaining to Ayaka's preferences, two steps behind, never taking the opportunity to roam and search for potential additions in your wardrobe.

It's not that you haven't seen anything you'd like to take home, per se. More like everything is too expensive for your pocket money in this high-end portion of town. “No,” you say instead, because it's easier to explain that way.

He tilts his head inquisitively, but doesn't push the topic. “Help me choose a hair pin then. You know what fits Ayaka best.”

He leads you to the display case housing rows of hair ornaments, each one more remarkable than the next. The last one, undoubtedly the most costly whose price would make you weep, teeters on the edge of gaudy. Adorned with silver butterflies, tear drop sapphires, gems delicately shaped like dewy petals and white pearls sitting atop carved gold, they almost blind your eyes.

“...She'd look beautiful in everything,” is the conclusion you come to, because you speak nothing but the truth. “But please don't buy everything. She will get mad at you.”

“I know,” he sighs. “That's why I needed your help picking one.”

You almost drill holes to the items with how hard you're staring at them, but you eventually point at the pin with pink blossoms. “This would contrast nicely with her hair.”

“Mhm. If you say so,” he hums approvingly, tracing the sculpted leaves.

“Then if that's all, I'll go pay...”

“Ah, which reminds me.” He spins on his heel to face you, lips shaped into an apologetic smile. “I'm nearly running out of parchment paper. Could you stop by the stationery store up front? I'll handle things from here and meet you by the entrance.”

“Of course, my lord.”

On your way outside, you resolutely do not allow your curious gaze to steer towards the tables of sparkling jewelry.

--

The trip back to the estate is uneventful, and the rest of the afternoon passes like any other.

Perhaps the only inconsistency in your repetitive days is the accidental nap you fall into, blanketed in warm rays of sunshine and caressed by the refreshing breeze slipping past ajar doors, your cheek resting on the surface of the table you were supposed to be cleaning. How uncouth of me, you think as you wipe your mouth to check for signs of drool. Your only respite is not having anyone witness you in such a state, otherwise you would've long been rudely awakened and received an earful of chastising.

...Is what you think, until you spot a foreign ring you definitely do not recall putting on.

It curls around your finger, dotted with crystals in a hue of blue you're all too familiar with. You see it everyday, gleaming in mischief, darkening with intrigue. Framed by long, long lashes, crinkling at the corners when filled with mirth. Crashing waves turned to frost at the slighest hint of displeasure, yet inexplicably gentle the moment it meets your eyes.

(You wonder if this is why he insisted on touching your hands so much, just to roughly measure your ring size.)

“I hope you fare well during my absence. Fear not, I will do my best not to prolong my leave.”

The way his words sound so self-assured and full of conviction doesn't sit well with you, and the genuine pity reflected in his irises almost makes your eyebrow twitch. You hadn't even spoken a word before he began his theatrics.

“Take as long as you need,” you reassure him. “My lord mustn't rush his work.”

He wilts, but he perks right back up, “No need to put up a front. I'll come back for you.”

Incorrigible.

“Then I await your safe return.” You bow deeply as you swallow back a sigh of defeat, the other servants lined up on either side of the street moving accordingly.

“Please be careful,” Ayaka bids when she walks in front of him. “I've heard of bandits intercepting carriages to steal... I don't mean to undermine your abilities, but you should still be vigilant of trouble.”

Ayato laughs at that. “You don't have to worry, Ayaka. They'll sooner surrender before they lay a single scratch on me.” Glancing at the luggage being loaded on his carriage, he grimaces. “I better get going. I'll see you all in three weeks.”

He climbs to the interior, giving you a final smile before closing the door. You stare at the carriage until it fully disappears, the trotting of horses out of earshot. When Thoma begins to walk back to the estate, you fall into step with him, matching his strides.

“The lord hasn't left for this long in a while,” he comments, to which you hum in agreement. “Think you'll miss him?”

“Three weeks is hardly a long time,” you retort back, complacent for the rare period of peace to follow the next month. “He'll return in no time, as if he'd never been gone in the first place.”

Thoma eyes you strangely at that, but says no more. “If you say so.”

--

The first day is bliss. No disruptions in your work, no unwanted conversation partner as a distraction, no midnight snacks needed to be prepared for the clan head a weird mix between workaholic and slacker.

The second day proves to be the same. No incessant chatter in your ear as you sweep the floor, no complaints for a stack of paperwork to be done within the day, no sudden requests of a shoulder massage for a job well done deserving of a reward.

The third day, you feel like your schedule is lacking, blank spots of free time sprinkled in between.

Ah, right. The tea breaks.

You tell yourself you only miss the fragrant tea, the selection of treats given to you by the young master's generosity. Not his thoughtful commentary for the taste, the chuckles spilling from his lips when you respond to his quips, the brief moments of eye contact before you resume your respective duties.

The fourth day, you're sent to hang the laundry. You tell yourself you don't miss a certain someone's abrupt appearance, poking a head through the sheets to startle you, huffing bright peals of laughter when he attains his desired reaction.

The fifth day, the cook requests your help to prep dinner. My lord doesn't like this dish, the sentence almost leaves your tongue as your eyes track down the recipe when you remember right, he's not here, and milady likes this dish, so it's one of the few chances she gets to eat it.

The sixth day, you clean his office. You organize the account books, restock his collection of pens and paper, and shuffle through his mail to sort them by category (definitely not noting down the number of letters asking for his hand in marriage). Your face flushes slightly when an unassuming bookmark falls out of a book you pick up from the floor, familiar flowers pressed thinly to fit between the pages. (You had only given those flowers on a whim, plucking fresh blossoms from plants you grew outside the Kamisato's garden. You didn't think he'd keep it around; they're not nearly as fancy as what his family owns.)

By the seventh day, you check the calendar and determine time is a social construct. There is no way it's only been seven days.

--

“How do I look?”

“Positively charming,” you say dryly.

“You're not looking.”

Your eyes flit to Thoma's attire. “I am.”

He shakes his head, taking off the robes he'd been trying on. “You're always daydreaming nowadays. What are you thinking about?”

Reminiscing the last time you visited this clothing store, which is when you brought the young master in your shopping trip. But he doesn't need to know that. “It's nothing. Are you buying it?”

“Since you kindly gave an approving opinion, sure.” His tone drips with sarcasm as he takes out his money pouch, paying for the clothes. “I think I don't need the answer from you, actually. I'm confident I have an accurate guess.”

Your eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean by that?”

“Who else would linger in your mind?” Thoma sighs in dramatic fashion, stepping out of the premises with you not far behind. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder, after all.”

Bristling, you vehemently refute, “I'm not thinking inappropriately of the lord, if that's what you're implying.”

“I didn't mention any names.”

“But you clearly meant him.”

He holds up his hands. “If that's what you want to believe, suit yourself.”

His gaze drops to the ring wrapped around your finger. The ring had been a topic of interest for the gossip mongers within the estate, wondering who you could've received it from; what other implications can wearing a ring have? Your cold exterior is no secret, your heart guarded with thorns, so who was able to sweep you off your feet in the end?

Thoma only needed one look at the shade of blue to make a correct guess.

“...I'm sure at this point, you know of his intentions,” Thoma says slowly. “And I have plenty of reasons to believe his affections aren't entirely unrequited.”

If they were, you would have brushed off Ayato already, just like you always do with the others. He may be persistent, but he knows how to back off. Yet the most you do is sigh and spoil him, albeit in (fond) exasperation.

“Even if they aren't...” you fidget with the hem of your shirt, averting your gaze from his blazing eyes, “...it doesn't mean we'll work. I'm certain he has better prospects for a spouse, anyway.”

“You mean those daughters from noble families?” He snorts. “He'd barely give them the time of day before running back to you. You should know that by now. Don't you remember when he faked being sick in that lunch meeting so you could take care of him?”

Of course you do. He had pretended to be in a dizzy spell, collapsing on your shoulder and making furtive hand signals asking for your help to get the lovesick maiden off his back. There really is no way to reject people like her without offending his business associate, so he tended to evade confrontations in roundabout ways.

You could excuse his clingy behavior out of necessity; it would be disgraceful to collapse on the floor, after all. The problem lies with the aftermath where you had already steered clear of the trouble but he insists on requiring treatment, body calculatively feeble as he gives you woeful pleas.

In another world, perhaps this would've been a heart-rending experience: a cold man who didn't share his burdens with others asking help from you specifically, because you were special and he trusted you the most.

In this world though, the act is only deserving of a derisive snort. He'd pulled off this plot for who knows how many times. How would holding your hand help with his throbbing headache anyway?

(You ignore the fact you indulge him each time regardless.)

“In any case, the lord is returning in a week. Not much time left for you to mope,” he laughs, even as you elbow his side.

A week.

(That is one week too long.)

--

When Ayato returns five days short of three weeks, you aren't there to greet him.

Instead, you are sick in bed, bundled in a pile of blankets, and suffering from a stuffy nose.

Ah, and delirious from fever. Very much so.

So when Ayato miraculously appears in your bedroom earlier than scheduled, you only sniffed in response and brushed him off as a hallucination.

But of course, your dismissive attitude isn't enough to discourage him from pestering you and running his mouth. He hovers by your bedside, noting with glee that you keep his ring on a nightstand closeby. “This is rare. I don't think I've ever seen you ill.”

But you've seen him plenty, frail and weak after days straight of sleepless nights. He doesn't look too pretty in such a mood, quick-tempered and sharp-tongued at the slightest annoyance. He only ever softens when your expression flits to dismay for a fraction of a second before offering him prescribed medicine from the family's physician.

“How are you this annoying even in my dreams...”

As it turns out, you're even more of a worse case than he is.

“Mhm. Your filter is completely shut down when you're sick, huh.” Ayato laughs, amused at the surprising revelation. He doesn't get to be the receiving end of your blunt words very often. “Alright. How bad do you feel right now?”

“Terrible, since it's the ass crack of dawn.”

It is not the ass crack of dawn, but you wouldn't know any better with the curtains drawn. “Do you have an appetite? I'll have a servant bring a meal.” Then, he slyly adds, “I can feed you, if you want me to.”

He doesn't know which part of that statement appeals to you the most but you sit up straight, attentive.

Interesting.

Though Ayato had meant it in jest, he has no complaints scooping spoonfuls of porridge to bring to your lips. He patiently coaxes you into drinking the bitter medicine after, quickly soothing you with bite-sized cut fruit to wash away the acrid taste.

“Good job,” he compliments, chuckling when you glow at the praise. Your lips are shiny with juice, trickling from the corner of your mouth.

Absent-mindedly, his hand lifts to caress your cheek, the pad of his thumb wiping it away. You jolt, a startled sound escaping you, and you hasten to clamp a hand over his mouth.

He blinks at you owlishly, dumbfounded.

“Don't,” you speak, your face decorated with a lovely pink. “You'll... you'll get sick.”

Ayato takes an embarrassing amount of time to process what that means. However, when he does, you can feel him grin beneath your fingers. He takes your hand, his huff of laughter tickling your palm.

“I thought we were in a dream? You don't get sick from kisses in dreams,” he teases, pressing a light kiss to your wrist. Your heart stutters in bewilderment but you make no move to pull away, only twitching when he kisses your fingertips.

“It's better to be careful...” your brows knit together, and he kisses the crease away too.

“Okay. Let's do it next time then, when you're truly awake.” He gently pushes you to your back, fluffing up the pillows for your comfort and tucking you in the blankets. Then, indulgently, he presses a final kiss to the crown of your head. “Rest well so I can get that kiss sooner, hm?”

“That's a stupid reason to recover...” you murmur defiantly, stubbornly blinking your drooping eyes open.

In the end, you fall asleep to the sound of his laughter, the fingers combing through your hair, and the rhythmic beat in his chest.

--

When you wake up, you admonish yourself for having such a shameless subconscious, but you acknowledge that you had a good dream.

Then your eyes land on a pair of discarded gloves on your nightstand, one that you remember Ayato putting away before he began to spoonfeed you your meal.

...Fuck.

“With all due respect, I don't believe being your headrest is part of my duty, my lord.”

A thoughtful hum answers you, preceded by a curious glance at your expression. Your legs are folded underneath you, back straight and eyes overlooking the garden instead of the weight resting on your lap. You can feel him shift, turning over where he faces against the porch, his robes wrinkling where it lay below.

“Are you suddenly becoming shy because a maidservant passed by?” He places down the novel in his hands on the wooden floorboards, watching your face burn in embarrassment. “I doubt this is the first time she's seen us, though.”

“My apologies. I'm not as thick-skinned as you are.”

“I'd prefer the term 'proud,'” he pokes the sash around your waist, smiling cheekily. “Who wouldn't want to show off their lover?”

He feels you stiffen, sees the flush of pink crawling outwards to the tips of your ears. “It's inappropriate. We're in a public setting.”

“That's only because you refuse to enter my chambers,” Ayato sighs and you look positively mortified. “I wouldn't ravage you, if that's what you're worried about?”

“My lord, please be reasonable. Whether you do or not, I will still be seen as your bed warmer. Did milady not advise us to be discreet? Inazuma would be in an uproar if they learned you were... you were...” you purse your lips, unable to spit the last word.

“Wedded.”

“I'm afraid we haven't gone that far, my lord,” you deadpan.

“So will you consider it?”

“My lord.”

“What?”

You give him a look, and he sighs in acquiescence. But he turns to face the opposite direction, expression hidden fron view. You can practically hear the pout in his voice, “I see. [Name] only sees me as a fling. My heart breaks to know this bliss is short-lived, but I will cherish our remaining time together.”

He's begun his theatrics again, you think tiredly, accustomed to his stunts. “In any case, we must be careful. We never know who has loose lips around here...”

He's still not facing you, resolutely looking away.

...Is he sulking for real? Was that a genuine marriage proposal?

“My lord?” You call out softly, in a lover's tender voice. He doesn't respond. Quieter, you whisper to his ear, “Ayato?” yet that doesn't earn a reaction either.

You start to panic, wondering if you were acting too indifferently. The change in your relationship had been a recent one, and you're still settling in a period of adjustment; even if you wanted to properly flirt with him like normal lovers do, bickering came more naturally to you.

You reach for his shoulder, hoping to turn him over and see his face. But then he catches your wrist, and you only have a second to catch a glimpse of his triumphant smirk before he captures your lips in a chaste kiss.

“Mhm, I see. So you're more considerate towards me when we're dating,” he cheerfully notes, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear as if he can't see the way your shocked gaze morphs into a cold glare. “I truly am privileged.”

“Incorrigible.” The word drips with poison, but he laughs and kisses you again, thumbing at the ring around your finger.

“Too bad you're stuck with me forever, huh?”

Its always fem reader isnt it 😔

I can't find any good Scara x male/gn reader

💀