summary. sharing a table with a stranger at a crowded café, only to realize they’re far more interesting than you expected.
characters. xiao, scaramouche, heizou, venti, kazuha x gn!reader (separate)
tags. modern au, fluff, crack
warnings. kind of ooc xiao and kazuha, alcohol in venti's
Internally panicking, but he welcomes you to the table with a small nod. He’s the reserved type—the kind to look anywhere but in your general direction just to avoid eye contact. Archons, how many times has he glanced out the window just to stare at that decorative plant? He even counted the leaves.
Social interaction isn’t his strong suit. And it certainly doesn’t help that you’re attractive.
If he had his way, he’d sit in silence, letting the passing seconds fill the space between you. But his own discomfort betrays him. Hands fidgeting under the table, fingers tracing the rim of his cup, gaze flickering to anything but you.
He feigns indifference, arms crossed, posture rigid.
But then—you speak. Because, for some reason, you find him interesting.
You introduce yourself first, then ask for his name.
His heart stumbles in his chest. He’s unsure if it’s from nerves or the sheer absurdity of the situation. Someone willingly trying to talk to him, despite his obvious attempts to fade into the background.
Though his palms are slightly damp from tension, he keeps his voice steady, his expression unreadable. Flat tone. Unwavering gaze. A carefully maintained air of disinterest.
You frown. A subtle shift, but he notices.
That’s a cue, isn’t it? A signal that you’ll leave him alone now. That’s what he wanted… right?
Then why does something in his chest sink when you simply nod, pressing your lips into a thin line, offering nothing more?
He exhales quietly. Curses himself. He just lost the chance to get to know you.
But this is the first time someone’s been able to catch his attention. So he thinks of a way to redeem himself.
"Oh. Okay." You say in response to his answer, forcing yourself to sound indifferent. But truthfully, you’re embarrassed.
You spent a whole ten minutes bouncing your leg, debating whether or not you should make the first move, only to be met with disappointment after finally mustering up the courage.
You bite your bottom lip and tap your fingers on the table, falling silent. Now, all you can do is wait for the servers to call your order so you can leave. You seriously don’t want to embarrass yourself further in front of this stranger.
A voice cuts through your thoughts.
You don’t assume right away that he’s talking to you, so you keep your gaze averted, pretending not to notice.
Then, a cough. Loud enough that you instinctively glance up in concern.
Your eyes widen slightly when you find him already looking at you.
“Yes?” You ask, taken aback that he was referring to you. There’s a flicker of curiosity in your expression, maybe even a bit of hope.
He hesitates. “…I'm sorry.” His voice is quieter this time, almost unsure. “I didn’t mean to come across as cold earlier.”
The shift in his tone is subtle, but you catch it. Gone is the detached, indifferent edge from before.
You smile, relieved. "No, no, don't worry about it! I get like that sometimes too."
He exhales lightly. Almost as if… reassured. After a beat, he offers a small, hesitant smile in return. It’s brief, but it’s there.
It’s cute that he chose to apologize instead of just letting it be. Most people would’ve moved on, unwilling to make things more awkward. But he didn't.
"I'm not used to people." He pauses. “…Especially ones like you.”
His own words seem to register a second too late.
You watch as his shoulders tense slightly, his fingers curling into a loose fist on his lap. The tips of his ears are… pink?
Was that supposed to be a compliment? Was he flirting with you? No way. He doesn’t seem like the flirty type. He’s definitely more socially awkward than you. Maybe he didn’t mean it like that.
But before you can overthink it—
“…If it’s okay with you, may I have your number?”
Glares at you menacingly. Like a cat trying to hiss someone away.
Him? Sharing a table? With some random nobody? Absolutely not. This table is his.
Without breaking eye contact, he places his bag on the chair in front of him. A silent warning. Don’t even think about it.
"It's occupied," he deadpans before returning to whatever he was doing.
You, unimpressed, grab his bag and dump it on the table. Then you plop down into the chair, arms crossed, staring him down as if to say: "Try and get me out of this seat, you brat."
His mouth parted slightly, just for a second, before snapping shut. Did you just—? The audacity.
A scoff escapes him as he leans back in his chair, arms crossed, his glare sharper than ever. His fingers drum against his bicep as he mutters under his breath—something that sounds suspiciously like, "At least you're not completely spineless." Not that he’d ever say it directly.
But since the café is packed and dragging you out by the collar would be frowned upon, he begrudgingly allows it.
For the most part, he ignores you. Or at least, he tries to. You pretend not to notice the irritated glances he throws your way every time you smile at your phone or stifle a laugh.
Then a server approaches.
She sets your drink down and takes a brief look at the two of you. No food orders yet. Her eyes brighten as she leans in slightly, all smiles.
"We actually have a 25% couple's discount for two strawberry shortcakes!"
He looks at her like she just personally insulted his entire bloodline. If he had one in this universe, anyway. His lips part, undoubtedly to say something cruel enough to make her rethink her entire career.
But before he can, you slap a hand over his mouth.
"That sounds great! We’ll take it!" you chirp, grinning at the waitress as if your life doesn’t currently depend on keeping Scaramouche from verbally eviscerating an innocent employee.
The server’s eyes sparkle with delight as she scribbles down the order. She even hums.
He looks personally offended.
You heave a sigh as the server finally walks away. Just as you’re about to relax, you feel a vibration against your palm. The glaring stranger is trying to speak, his voice muffled against your hand.
Then, before you can react—
"Gross!" You yank your hand away, scrubbing it furiously against his sleeve.
He swats you off instantly, recoiling like you just infected him with the plague. "Get your germs off of me!" he snaps.
"You're the one who just licked my hand!" you retort, scandalized.
His scowl deepens. His expression alone speaks volumes.
"The hell was that for? First, you hog my table—"
"I wasn’t hogging it, we needed to share!"
"—interrupting my peace with your presence—"
"I was minding my own business!"
"—and then you have the absolute audacity to make us out as some kind of couple?!"
"Shut up, they might hear you! We’ll lose the discount!" you hiss, glancing around in case the staff overheard. The people in the vicinity gave looks of concern at your direction.
He scoffs. "You have some nerve."
You roll your eyes. So dramatic. Acting like you just ruined his life.
"I had to grab the opportunity. It’s strawberry shortcake."
He clicks his tongue. "That’s your excuse?"
"It’s strawberry shortcake," you repeat as if that alone explains everything.
He huffs, crossing his arms. "Fine. Go eat your stupid cake."
You blink. Who the hell hates cake?
His eyes narrow. "Why? Because I hate them. I hate sweets in general. Life isn’t sweet. Life is full of bitterness and sorrow. I don’t get how people manage to laugh in this world. It’s annoying."
How did a conversation about shortcakes turn into a monologue about the inherent misery of existence?
"What the hell? Who hurt you?" you mutter.
You suck in a sharp breath.
The words are so blunt, so casually spoken, that it takes you a second to process. Your lips twitch. No. You shouldn’t laugh.
But the longer you stare at his deadpan face, the harder it is to hold back. A chuckle slips out. Then another.
Hey, this guy is kind of funny. He's growing on you.
He gives you a baffled look like you’re the crazy one for finding humor in his trauma dump.
His brows furrow, and for a brief second, his gaze lingers—not in irritation, but in something else. Something almost mesmerized. He mutters something too quiet to catch before looking away, resting his head on his palm.
You inhale deeply, composing yourself. "Fine. I'll eat both cakes, then. I'm the one paying anyway."
He doesn’t respond, just glares at nothing in particular.
Minutes later, the same cheerful server returns with a tray of two servings of strawberry shortcake. Just as you reach for your wallet—
The stranger slaps down his own cash before you can even open your bag.
The server’s grin widens. "Ah, paying for the date? How chivalrous!" she chimes, her voice far too amused, before skipping away.
Did he just let her think that?
Your gaze snaps to him, utterly bewildered. He doesn’t even deny it—just grabs one of the plates and starts stabbing the cake with his fork.
"I thought you said you don’t like sweets."
"That’s right," he mutters before taking a grumpy bite.
You narrow your eyes. "Then why—"
He chews, swallows, and then shrugs, avoiding your gaze.
"Would be a real waste of my money if I didn’t enjoy it with you."
Has been watching you since you entered the café. Not in a creepy way, just subtle, observant, like he’s solving a case. And wow you are stunning. The way your eyes scan the room, looking for an open seat, tells him you’re about to approach him.
"Over here!" he waves, voice warm and inviting, like he's an old friend waiting for you. You hesitate, confused. Do you know this guy? But with no other seats available, you accept with a small, grateful smile.
Big mistake. Or maybe the best decision you’ve made today.
Because once you sit, he talks. And flirts. And teases. And somehow, he already knows things about you.
Will ask you all sorts of questions: What's your name? Your age? Your birthday? Your favorite color? Any pets? Exes?
Even taking guesses as to what your answers might be. and he got them all right, if not, then close. But every now and then, he throws in something completely unexpected:
"What's your ideal type? Is it me?"
"Aside from being pretty, what do you do for a living?"
"Have you ever committed a crime before? Because now you have." He says while clutching his chest.
You nearly choke on your drink. Heizou just grins, clearly enjoying himself.
"Alright, your turn. You can interrogate me now," he offers, eyes gleaming with amusement.
And so you do. Because he’s interesting. Charming. Smart. Too smart. And when he leans in slightly, studying your features like he’s committing them to memory, you feel yourself getting drawn in, too.
Heizou hums in thought. "You’ve got the kind of face that belongs in a painting," he muses. "I’d describe it more, but I’d rather see how flustered you get first."
You roll your eyes, trying (and failing) to suppress a smile.
He'd be the type to reach out and take small bites of your food while chatting. He does it so shamelessly that you're impressed, so you just let him.
This boy is so confident with himself, flirting so casually like it's second nature.
He wouldn't go as far as to touch you, of course. He knows his limits and will keep his hands to himself. But he acts so relaxed and friendly with you that you think maybe he's just playing you.
You’re not dumb. You know he’s interested in you.
It’s not like he’s being subtle about it, either. The lingering glances, the teasing smirks, the way his eyes light up whenever you react to his words. It’s obvious.
And sure, you feel the same way. But still.
Is this how he always approaches strangers? Does he flirt for fun, or does he actually mean to follow through? How many people have fallen for his tricks before?
A thoughtful hum breaks your train of thought. Heizou taps his chin lightly, then suddenly snaps his fingers. A habit you’ve noticed ever since you sat down.
"Your expression tells me you’re doubting my motives. Correct?"
You blink in surprise. Then chuckle softly, shaking your head. Damn, he’s good.
"That’s right. A point for you, detective."
He lets out a breathy laugh, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Funny you say that. Being a detective is my full-time job."
Your lips part slightly in surprise. He never mentioned that before. But now it all makes sense. The way he reads you like an open book, the way he asks questions so effortlessly, the way he makes it feel like you’re being studied and he’s enjoying every second of it.
"That’s quite… attractive." You admit, cheeks warming slightly.
Heizou leans back in his chair, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself. "You think so?" His grin widens, but there’s a new glint in his gaze now.
"Then allow me to clear up any lingering doubts, sweetheart." He tilts his head slightly, voice dropping just enough to make your stomach flip.
"I do plan on pursuing you."
Your heart stumbles. You were not prepared for him to be that straightforward.
Heizou watches your reaction, clearly amused. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he shakes his head. "Only a true detective can crack the case of this heart theft, you know."
A teasing pause. Then, the final blow.
"And my prime suspect… is you."
When you approach him, the faint yet unmistakable scent of alcohol lingers in the air. He’s drunk. In the middle of the day. At a café.
Wait. Do they even serve alcohol here?
His head rests lazily on his folded arms, eyelids heavy, lips slightly parted. If it weren’t for the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders, you’d think he was fast asleep. Beside him, a humble coffee cup sits suspiciously untouched. Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you lean in for a peek.
How the hell did he sneak that in? More importantly, how has no one caught him yet? You glance around, half-expecting an employee to scold him, but they just pass him by like he’s invisible. Maybe he’s a regular here.
Deciding not to wake him, you quietly settle into the seat across from him, giving him space.
Then, without warning, he jolts awake.
He’s suddenly wide awake. No sluggish blinking, no groggy confusion, just pure, unbothered energy. You flinch at the unexpected enthusiasm.
He doesn’t ask why you’re here. He doesn’t even bother to ask your name. Instead, he jumps straight into conversation as if you’re an old friend who’s been here all along.
And somehow, you go along with it.
With an animated grin, he launches into the most ridiculous stories you’ve ever heard.
"Earlier, I saw this red-haired guy absolutely demolish some blue-haired guy in a fight. It was spectacular! Ehe~!"
That’s just one of the things he shares. He never runs out of things to say. Wild, chaotic, oddly fascinating things. Like?? Does he see stuff like that on a daily basis?
And despite nearly passing out five minutes ago, he speaks so effortlessly that you start questioning if he was even drunk to begin with.
Like Heizou, he will also steal some of the pastries you ordered, albeit in a more subtle manner. He thinks you don't notice this lol.
"You've got fine taste in sweets, stranger!" he hums, twirling a fork between his fingers. "Tell me, what's your opinion on wine?"
You blink at the sudden shift in topic but answer with an amused smile. "I don’t really know much about it. I just drink whatever I feel like."
Venti gasps dramatically, "Hah, I thought so! I cou—"
His sentence is abruptly cut off by a hiccup. You barely suppress a laugh as you slide a glass of water toward him.
"Whoops! My bad!" He lets out a bubbly giggle, taking the water with a flourish. After downing a few sips, he clears his throat with an exaggerated ahem.
"As I was saying—" He pauses for effect. "If you're interested in wine, I’d be delighted to educate you! I’d say I’m an expert.”
You tilt your head playfully. "I can tell."
His eyes twinkle with mischief. "But if you're not..."
He leans in slightly, voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper.
"I'm still very interested in having a drink with you sometime. You’re quite the gorgeous stranger, you know."
Before you can fully process the compliment, he winks. Smooth, confident, entirely shameless.
"So," he muses, resting his chin in his palm.
“What do you say about keeping in touch?"
Kazuha is probably the most normal one out of the bunch. No glares, no drunken ramblings, no interrogation-like questioning. Just a warm, endearing smile as he gestures toward the empty seat across from him.
He even stands up, gently pulling your chair back for you. A small but thoughtful gesture. One that makes your heart skip just a little.
"Please, have a seat." His voice is soft, and smooth, like a passing breeze on a summer afternoon.
As you settle in, he strikes up a light conversation, asking about your day with genuine curiosity. He listens intently, nodding along, occasionally offering small comments that make you feel at ease.
And unlike a certain maroon-haired flirt or a wine-loving bard, instead of stealing your food, he offers you his. With a slight nudge, he pushes his plate toward you.
"Would you like to try some?" His expression is hopeful.
You shake your head, feeling too shy to accept. "Oh, no, it’s yours. I couldn’t."
He pouts. Actually pouts.
"Come on, just a bite. Humor me." He even throws in the puppy eyes.
And damn it, how could you refuse that face?
Reluctantly, you take a tiny piece with your fork, just enough to taste.
He notices. And he’s not having it.
Without a word, he cuts a larger piece, lifting it toward your lips with his own fork.
"Say aah," he coaxes, his smile both playful and teasing.
Your face burns hotter than the café’s espresso machine, but you comply, letting him feed you.
His expression softens, eyes twinkling with quiet satisfaction.
But just when you think it couldn't get worse—
He leans forward slightly, his gaze dropping to your lips.
Before you can react, he reaches out, thumb brushing lightly against the corner of your mouth.
Then, with a casual grace that should not be allowed, he brings his thumb to his lips, licking off the stray bit of cream.
As if he didn’t just send your soul straight into the abyss.
You stare at him, utterly flustered, while he simply sips his tea, acting as though he didn’t just casually destroy you in broad daylight.
"You're acting awfully sweet to a stranger," you point out, tilting your head at him.
Kazuha hums thoughtfully, swirling his tea. Then, he gives you a small, shy smile.
"Am I? Well... how could I not, if the stranger is you?"
He gives you a shy smile. "We could fix the 'stranger' part. How about friends?"
You giggle softly. "Are you sure just friends?"
He gives you a playful look. "Well, we could be more in the future."
His laugh is light, airy. Like the whisper of wind through maple leaves. But then, something seems to dawn on him, and his expression shifts.
"But—" he pauses, suddenly looking sheepish. "If you're already seeing someone, being friends is enough."
You giggle behind your hand, heartwarming at his sincerity. After all that flirting, he's still worried about stepping over a line.
"Don't worry," you reassure him, "I've never dated anyone."
His eyes widen slightly, genuine disbelief flickering across his face.
"Is that so?" He tilts his head. "That's surprising. I thought someone like you would be off the market by now."
You shrug, smirking at him. He leans in just a little, voice dropping to a gentle murmur, as if sharing a secret.
His gaze locks onto yours, warm, admiring.
“I get to find and keep the treasure, then? What an honor.”
note. ah yes the work i was most proud of back then lol anw i’m planning to make a part 2 for this idk when tho maybe when i feel like it. i improved a few bits from the original and this is not proofread! i literally just skimmed through the text and changed a few stuff hope u enjoyed say hi if u remembered this
© lmvari do not repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works on any platform.
