being mavuika’s little sister during the pilgrimage. cheering from the stands for what seemed like everyone. you were supposed to be unbiased— just like your big sister.
but in reality you were cheering for the dendro boy, your voice always putting a small smirk on his face as his eyes met yours briefly.
your sister knows you two are friends. you’re just a friendly person after all. but what she doesn’t know is that after the saurian hunter wins his battle, cheers erupting in the crowd as the archon declares a small break. kinich finds his way to you.
deep in the stadium in your bedroom, he has you bent over. your hands held behind your back as your face is shoved deeper into your mattress.
“couldn’t have done it without your sweet voice cheering me on y’ know.” he groans, hips rolling into you with a deepness that made you mewl. small whimpers being fucked out of you as you stretched around his thick cock.
“nngh— k-kinich,” you moaned softly, glossed eyes peering up at him as you twisted your neck back. watching his head fall back with a staggered moan of his own. his abs tense and biceps flexing with each thrust.
“that’s it baby,” he breathed, “love it when you moan my name. say it louder”
you let out a cry when he let off one rough thrust, your body jerking forward when his cock poked meanly at your g spot. “kinich,” you mewled louder, eyes rolling back at his steadily increasing pace.
“gonna win my next one f’ you sweetheart. all f’ you.” he leaned down, pressing his chest to your back and lips to your ear. “this pussy’s all the motivation i need— fuck.”
“nich.. ‘m gonna- aah. ‘m gonna cum.” you babbled with a drool, kinich’s hot breath fanning your face as he kissed the crook of your neck.
“yeah? go on baby. ’m right behind you.” he cooed, groaning loudly when you clamped down around him with a strained scream. your body trembling as you rode out your orgasm.
he followed after, pulling his throbbing cock out with a hiss as he spilled onto your plush ass. his chest heaving as it glistening with sweat.
he let himself fall onto your bed beside you, both of you panting in an effort to catch your breaths when he pulled you onto him. his arms wrapped gently around you while you snuggled into his chest. the hunter boy placing a soft kiss to your head with a smile. “did so good today.”
you hummed, eyes fluttering as you struggled to keep them open. your body relaxing in his warm embrace.
a knock at your door broke you out your sleepy state. your sister’s voice ringing through to ask if you’d seen the very boy who was laid under you (trying his best to hide his laughter).
“n-no vuika, i haven’t.” you stuttered, hurriedly standing up and picking up your clothes one by one. you’d completely forgotten about the pilgrimage. “i’m sure he’ll be there soon! he’s never missed a battle.” you assured. and mavuika went silent for a second before sighing.
“i guess you’re right. if you see him though tell him we begin in 10.”
SYNOPSIS: after numerous failed arranged marriages set up by your parents, you thought the one with the vice-captain would follow the same pattern. you're proven wrong when he subverts what an expected greeting should be given.
𖥔 WORDCOUNT: 3.3k (pls give it a chance...) ┆ 𖥔 TAGS. @millurie @axolotsofluv @tragedy-of-commons @al97649 @bisouyuo @aritsukemo -> come join the taglist here!
𖥔 WARNINGS: mentions of beer and drinking, reader is from snezhnaya and has a dendro vision, reader also has lowkey/implied mommy issues, mentions blood and a wound, arrange marriages obv, cameo for varka, ragbros, jean, lisa, and albedo; not fully proofread; expect mistakes!
♪ FINAL NOTES .ᐟ this one is for my fav lohen kissers ari and yuomi 🤍🤍i genuinely didn't expect for this to b this long but oh well. art credits: @.su3ka_ on x!
"you are to be wedded to the vice-captain of the fifth company."
that's how it all began — a simple dinner with your parents as they dropped the bomb of your new marriage candidate. you tried your best not to appear vexed. keyword: tried. but unlike you're ever admirable cousin, jean, your face gave away more than your words ever could.
your brow twitched, the small fork in your hand clattered to the porcelain plate. your mother threw a disapproving glare, while your father coughed into his fist. "now, [name], my dear—"
"don't "my dear" me, father." you bark out, "what happened to giving up on setting me up for another failing marriage."
"you haven't even met the vice-captain," he argued.
you rolled your eyes in bemusement, "and you have? what happened to not involving yourself with 'pitiful, mongering barbarian?""
"your marriage has been decided," he stated sternly. he set his utensils with force enough to rattle the entire table as he raised his head like he always did when someone challenged his authority as a duke. "you are to be wed to vice-captain lohen." a tired sigh escaped him, a gloved hand pinched between his brows as he heard you stand from your seat and dash out the dining room. "arranged marriages aren't all so bad, [name]!"
"not all bad, you say?!" you shouted from across the corridor. "take a look at your relationship with mother before you say that!"
your family arrived in mondstadt at dawn. the trip to dorman port was as you expected—humid, and all too bright in comparison to the snow of snezhnaya. the people smiled often, too, you noticed. well, you supposed this was the land of freedom after all. you're quite tempted to see where the winds would take you when all you've grown up with are the blizzards and snowstorms that knock at your windows like an incessant friend who can't take no for an answer.
still, despite your curiosity about what the wild berries in the bushes would taste like, you willed your feet to stay rooted at the docks. your father greeted everyone as usual; your mother hid half her face in disdain behind her fan. like you, she had a lot to say about the weather, but you doubt she'd sugarcoat any unpleasant comments she had. people have told you that you took after her the most — too straightforward, too quippy, too wild to be a duke's heir.
"and you must be the duke's heir," a voice commented. you snapped your head up to the noise and realized, in mortification, that you had to crane your neck to even meet his eyes. you grip the silk of your apparel in alarm. "i'm varka. knight of boreas, grandmaster of the knight of favonious!"
the grandmaster pressed a closed fist to his chest, a grin plastered on his face as he bowed his head. "from now on, you will be in our care. if you encounter any problems, please don't hesitate to inform me. or lohen."
lohen.
you wondered what he's like.
as varka stood back to his full height, he offered you a hand to guide you to the horse you'll be riding to the city. "the roads are treacherous here, your grace. using a carriage will only lengthen the time to get to the city." he had explained earlier when your mother had complained at the lack of proper transportation. you sighed in dismay when she threw another hissy fit, your father right behind her as he guided her onto the horse, gathering the many layers of her gown. he was probably chastising her for not heeding his warnings. you turned around and let varka lift you to the saddle (and when i say lift, i mean lift. the man even had the audacity to laugh and ask if you were eating properly.)
you tuned out the rest of mother's tantrum in favor of soaking in the sights of your new home. it was… starkly different. you could actually see the path, albeit it was… unrecognizable; wild flowers bloomed from the soil, and small critters would gather atop rock formations to tilt their heads at you. when you thought no one was looking, you gave them a small wave. a smile bloomed on your face when the small squirrel jumped in delight before scurrying away with its friend.
"you're quite the charmer, your highness." you turned to your left and watched as varka reign his horse slow it's pace and match yours. his sky-lit eyes eventually fell on the mount you had been riding, a low whistle escaping his lips. "that horse you're riding is infamous for throwing off any rider that touches his saddle."
you feel your anxiety spike, quickly looked down to your horse before you calmed down. "you should've said that earlier, grandmaster…"
he laughed, hearty and whole. like the feeling of joy existed in the air that wafted in the surroundings and encompassed the space of his lungs. "ha, ha, ha! i heard rumors about you being blessed by mother nature herself, your highness! ah, forgive me. i know i shouldn't indulge in such rumors but the moment you had stepped off that boat, i had a feeling you were special."
you blinked up at him (cursing the very obvious gap in your heights in your mind) and couldn't stop yourself from asking, "why is vice-captain lohen here?"
there's a shift in the air. subtle, almost as if it never happened to begin with. but you saw it. the way varka's eyes widened for just a fraction, how they looked at anything but you, and how he changed the subject faster than any warning of an avalanche you've heard.
the trip to the main gates was spent in silence after that. you didn't dare to ask the question again, or even bring up your fiancé's name. afraid of the suffocation the knights would have to endure as the words fell from your lips.
lohen. you trialed in your mind. it was short enough to remember, but unique in a way you've only ever heard it once. lohen. you looked up to the sky, the day had barely passed despite it feeling like you've travelled through half of teyvat already. when the sun peeked around it's shield of clouds, you wondered where your fiancé was.
mondstadt was welcoming. welcoming enough for your father — all up-tight, and no funny business — to indulge in a few rounds of beer in a quaint bar in a corner. "it's angel's share," you're mother informed, already half-way through her glass of champagne when she found you in a dark corner on the second floor. "owned by the most sought after bachelor in mondstadt — diluc ragnvindr."
"if he's so sought after, why wasn't he a candidate?" you asked, swirling the apple cider in your glass.
"naive child, i've told you numerous times already. he could have been, if you hadn't burned his letter in the fireplace like a fool."
ah, now you remembered. you were high on emotions that night and the thought of leaving home with a man you didn't know sent you into a spiralling tantrum that ended with you burning the stacks of marriage proposals on your father's desk. you distinctively remembered a burgundy envelope and an owl seal amongst them.
you took a careful peek at your mother who had dropped herself on the seat in front of you, much to your disdain. when she clicked her tongue, you took it as your cue to let your gaze fall like it always had in her presence.
"because of your foolish mistake, you're stuck with this half-witted, war-mongering vice-captain."
"'warn mongering'?" you asked.
she rolled her eyes at you, drinking the remaining champagne and slammed the delicate glass in front of you. "the boy is a monster, [name]." she said, "that lohen is unbecoming. i can't wrap my mind around how he, of all people was accepted into the knights."
the way she said lohen's name — as if the very letters seared her tongue and offended her existence — made something churn in your stomach. you didn't know him, you reminded yourself, there's no point in defending him. in fact, with varka's prior reaction to you questioning his whereabouts, you're left with little but too much all the same; lohen was someone distasteful to be around.
"are you even listening to me, [name]?!" your mother rattled, "listen to me, dear archons above what have i done to deserve such a disobedient child—"
you stood from your seat, the legs of your chair dragging across the floors before it dropped with a painfully loud thud. chatter paused, songs finished abruptly, and you simply smiled. "i'm tired, i'll be retiring for the day." you excused yourself from the others, bolting to the stairs, only to be stopped when the grandmaster weaved himself between you and the exit.
"now, your highness, you can't leave yet!" he said, one hand still holding a wooden mug of beer.
you raised a brow at him, your patience growing thin when he continues to block your path regardless of what step you took. "grandmaster," you warned. "please, step aside."
but he only shook his head, a finger scratched his chin while his eyes darted across the many faces in the bar. "y-you can't!"
"and why not?"
"because… um… you see, we were, um…"
while he was busy thinking fo an excuse, you sent out a silent prayer to the tsaritsa that barbatos doesn't smite you for landing a blow on one of his knights (though calling it a blow would be an exaggeration when the grandmaster was double, if not triple your body mass). at best, you had landed a strong enough blow to his side to tickle, tickle, him to drop his guard and wheeze out of your way.
finally! you thought. you were almost free from this stuffy, beer-stinking room!
but as you opened the door, a force from the other side pulled it forward, taking you along with it. everyone gasped, and you shut your eyes to brace for the impact, already imagining the scolding you were about to receive if even a single scratch were to grace your face. but it never came.
instead, heavy and dirtied hands caught you by the forearms as your face planted into someone's uniform stained with blood. you stayed there for a moment longer than what would be considered necessary.
"well, ain't this a lovely first meeting, your highness!"
you felt the blood drain from your face as you realized who you had just fallen into. with a heavy sigh and grumbled curses, you lift your head enough to catch a glimpse of a face that did not match the tone of his voice. his eyes were something straight out of a fairytale, but it's not what you'd describe as "princely" or even a "knight" — they had no light, like never-ending, encompassing pool of carmine that bleeds into the sky.
your mother was right, lohen was a monster.
"what? do i have something on my face?" he asked, and you're mortified to realize that you had been caught staring right into a rabbit hole of his gaze. the pads of his gloves dragged from your forearms down to cup your palms — gentle, sure. you think you can feel the callouses from how he uses his weapons, and yet… "you okay there? i'm starting to think i'm not the only delusional one here." he joked with a chuckle under his breath.
"excuse me?"
"just a joke! no need to be offended, your highness," he assured you, but it did little to quell the somersaults that your stomach continued to perform. his skin was pale, maybe as pale as the snow back at home, and there's a single guiding star beneath the right of his eye. his mouth moved, and you thought what he said was funny when the other patrons laughed. but you didn't hear it. not when your hand, the one your father swore would never know the feeling of blood, dragged a thumb over the bleeding scratch that etched his cheekbone down to the side of his chin.
"what a wound. it must be painful," you muttered before a familiar condensation of dendro energy pooled at where the blood continued to stain his cheeks. "hold still," you asked, and against everyone's expectations, lohen did as you asked. he stood still, very still. when half of the wound had closed, you began to wonder if he was even breathing.
when his cheek was fully healed, only then did you finally breathe out a sigh of relief. noticing how the room had gone quiet, you became acutely aware how little distance was left between you and the vice-captain. with reddening cheeks, you let out a cough into your first, and stepped back. the warmth of his hold left a scalding trail on your skin that raised the hairs yet left you wanting for more, all the same.
lohen stumbled back, too. a hand clumsily tugging at the collar of his uniform, before both hands dusted down his shirt, cursing when he realized blood had managed to stain the spot you had planted your face in. when your eyes met again, you noticed the obvious flustering of his cheeks. it contrasted nicely against his pale, snow-stricken complexion. and it made the blush that crept up his ears all the more obvious.
your staring context was broken when you hear a snort from behind you. your head whipped to see the culprit, only to find varka ducking his head down just as you glared at him. he waved a hand in apology, setting his cup of beer down the counter, and going past you just to stand besides lohen.
"your highness, allow me to introduce to you the vice-captain of the knight's fifth company." a heavy hand was placed on his shoulders, and your eyes met again. this time, he didn't look away, nor did you think he cared much for the obvious red on his cheeks. "lohen, this is their highness, [name]. proud heir to snezhnaya's dukedom, who also happens to be your fiancé."
lohen rolled his eyes, shrugged off varka's hand on his shoulder before reaching for something behind him. "can you tell me something i don't know, grandmaster? i do more than just fighting, you know."
"that's rather hard to believe, but sure! whatever you say!"
annoyed by his superior, lohen swiftly delivered an undamaging kick to the grandmaster's shin. the latter only laughed at his attempt, before shoving him forward, nearly sending you both toppling over if you had not caught him by the shoulders as he did with you.
"stupid grandmaster, i don't need your help," he grumbled under his breath.
you tilted your head curiously, slotting you perfectly in his visage that he stumbles over the next few words. "help with what?"
you heard the other knights holler and whistle, the grandmaster behind him laughed even harder as he passed you both, taking up his previous station by the bar and watching with amused eyes. "the same reason why he wasn't there to greet you when you arrived, your highness!" varka explained. "come on lohen, don't get all shy on us now! you we're all fire and spirit when you proposed the idea, where's that spirit gone?"
"drowned by your noise if you don't shut the hell up!" lohen shouted amidst the sea of laughter and cheering. "damned nosy assholes. who even said you were in on the plan in the first place?!"
"i'm… a little lost."
as he finally remembered who he was in proximity with, the blush on his face worsened, and the cheering grew louder. he slipped from your hold, taking a deep breath and continuing his grumbling, throwing a glare at the head that belonged to the grandmaster as he finally fixed his posture.
couhing into his fist, lohen did one final lookover his appearance — fixing the collar of his shirt, dusting down his cape, and brushing the bangs over his eyes. he took one step, then another, until he was only an arm's length away and you had to stop the squeek that nearly slipped from your throat when he took your hand in his, while the hand behind his back revealed a bouquet of local flowers in mondstadt.
"i apologize, for not greeting you first. i know it's not exactly very "knightly" of me," lohen paused, his thumb rubbing mindless circles on your knuckles as his gaze flickered from your face to the flowers in his hold. "and appearing all battered and with a wound on my face is… unbecoming. but i promise, it was for a good cause. that being this." he motioned for you to take the bouquet. when you gingerly accepted them in your hands, he straightened his back again. "welcome to mondstadt, my fiancée. i hope you'll like it here."
"'welcome to mondstadt, my fiance.' now where, pray tell, did you learn to smooth-talk like that, lohen?"
the vice-captain only rolled his eyes. he continued wiping down his spear in jean's office (why it had to be here, lohen didn't know. and fankly, he was too tired to know.). "it was a formal welcome. since all you wanted to act like a stick had stuck up your ass, i decided to be… more me."
"more you, as in revealing your year-long crush on the duke's heir?"
"when have i said that?!"
albedo and kaeya shrugged, but the all-knowing and teasing smiles on their faces had lohen's heart hammering in his chest. when lisa chuckled and closed her book, only then did he realize that he had abruptly stood from his seat, his polearm lay forgotten on the floor along with the cloth he was using to clean it.
"now, now, don't tease him you two. it must have been hard to gather all those flowers in starsnatch cliff with the activity of the abyss."
"thank you—"
"and confessing isn't exactly an easy thing to prepare for! the fact he even showed up is a miracle in and of itself."
"lisa?!"
"enough, you three."
when jean arrived, only then could lohen relax and sit back down on his seat. he picked up his polearm and glared at kaeya when the man snickered at him.
"now that we're all here, we will be discussing the appropriate accomodations to the duke and his family," jean's eyes landed on lohen first. "thankfully, master diluc had agreed to house them for a while until we finish the deal with northland bank." then, she nodded towards lisa and albedo's direction, "the duke's only request is that their highness's studies in alchemy to be continued, so i'll be trusting you both in that regard."
"thank you for trusting us, dear jean."
"yes, we'll do our utmost best."
jean smiled, shoulders finally relaxing, "that leaves kaeya and me with managing their transportation when the duke and duchess return. now lohen," the vice-captain stiffened. a shiver ran down his spine when he met jean's eyes and watched in horror as even her lips tugged into a teasing smile. "it'll be your job to assist them in any and every field. you are their hand-picked knight, ensure that they remain safe until the weeding."
"it offends me that you think i can't even do something as simple as that," lohen complained.
"ah, ah. i'm not finished.
"huh?"
jean smiled, in fact, everyone in the room smiled. and lohen felt cold, ice water was dumped over his head when the next words followed.
"as their fiancé, be sure to woo them now and then. it took a lot of effort from master diluc to get your name on their candidate's list after all."
pairing: morinozuka takashi x shrine maiden reader
summary: when the ouran host club is invited to a summer festival at (names) ancestral shrine, they expected lanterns and food stalls, not sacred dances, centuries-old traditions, and a glimpse into a side of her they've never seen before.
as the night unfolds under the glow of paper lights, mori finds himself drawn deeper into the quiet world she carries and begins to realize that their engagement, once only duty, might be something far more personal.
stillness becomes understanding. and between one shared glance and a gifted charm, something soft and real begins to bloom.
note: guys... I MISS OHSHC SO MUCH IM GONNA BUY ALL THE MANGA SOON 😭💔
matserlist
the air smelled like cedar and sweet smoke.
as the black cars pulled up to the base of the ancient shrine path, the host club members spilled out in a mix of silk, chatter, and dramatic flailing.
"I feel like I've stepped into a ghibli film," tamaki declared, holding the edges of his indigo yukata like it was a royal robe. "do you hear those cicadas? it's like they're whispering secrets."
"you're just hearing your own voice echoing back at you," kyoya murmured, adjusting his glasses as he stepped carefully onto the mossy stones of the path.
the forest stretched tall and quiet around them. pine needles, soft wind, and lanterns already beginning to flicker to life along the trail that lead up the steps.
they looked up.
the shrine sat above them like something pulled from a memory, ancient, red-lacquered beams beneath a canopy of green, the air thick with incense and reverence.
and standing just at the top of the stairs, dressed in the deep vermillion of a ceremonial hakama, was (name).
still. poised.
like a painted scroll come to life.
she smiled gently and offered a bow. "welcome to kogane shrine. I'm honored to have you all here."
tamaki lit up like a sunrise. "(name)-senpai! you look so.... so ethereal! how lucky we are to be welcomed by such beauty!"
haruhi gave a polite wave. "thanks for inviting us. it's... way more traditional than I expected."
"I think I read about this place in a cultural heritage registry," kyoya added, already scribbling in a sleek notebook. "your family maintains the grounds personally?"
she nodded. "we have for generations. my grandmother still oversees the sacred ceremonies. she's looking forward to meeting all of you."
a rustle of footsteps behind her made her turn. mori and honey had just arrived at the top of the stairs, honey waving enthusiastically, a cotton candy already in hand from some vendor they passed on the way up.
"hi, (name)-Chan! this place is sooo cool!" honey beamed. "did you grow up here?"
"most summers," (name) said, smiling more softly now.
mori didn't say anything, but when his eyes met hers, he gave the faintest nod. not quite a greeting. more like a memory.
something passed between them, quiet and unnoticed by the others.
she turned back to the group. "the festival will begin soon. if you'd like, I can show you the grounds before the guests arrive."
"lead the way, lady shrine maiden~!" tamaki said, dramatically throwing out an arm.
she gave a short laugh and started walking. her steps were light but measured, used to these stone paths, the ancient forest pressing in on both sides. the host club followed, their bright chatter bouncing against centuries-old wood and quiet statues of foxes and lions.
and just behind her, a full step closer than before, walked Takashi morinozuka.
her voice echoed gently across the mossy path, clear and calm as a temple bell.
"this gate," (name) explained, hand hovering gracefully near the weathered red arch, "marks the threshold between the phsyical world and the spiritual one. we pass through it in silence."
the host club followed behind her, mostly in silence, though it was the kind born more of awe than obedience.
tamaki, starry-eyed, whispered to himself, "how poetic... her voice carries the weight of a thousand generations..."
kyoya was taking notes.
haruhi walked quietly near the back of the group, her gaze drifting forward to mori, who stood unusually close to (name), matching her pace without even trying, his expression unreadable but... softer than usual.
she leaned slightly towards kyoya and mumbled, "huh... mori-senpai and (name)-senpai seem close... I've never seen him like that with anyone but honey-senpai."
kyoya didn't even look up from his notebook. "they're engaged."
haruhi blinked. "wait, what?"
"engaged," he repeated evenly, flipping a page. "their families arranged it years ago."
before haruhi could fully process that, the twins, walking just ahead of her, whipped around in perfect unison.
"oho? did someone say arranged marriage?" Hikaru smirked.
"oh, haruhi, you didn't know?" kaoru added, leaning in. "the morinozuka family and (last name) family have ties that go way back. like... samurai and shrine maiden era back."
"they say the morinozuka clan once protected (name)-senpai's family shrine as warriors."
"bodyguards. swordsmasters. silent shadows in the trees," Hikaru grinned.
kaoru nodded solemnly. "there's even a legend that a morinozuka ancestor once took a vow of silence after falling in love with the shrine's priestess."
"she died young, though," Hikaru said, mock-dramatically. "very tragic. very fated."
"that vow became tradition. a family of protectors who only speak when necessary."
kyoya cut in with a sigh. "let's not fictionalize too much. the betrothal is tradition, yes, but it's a mutual agreement, not a fairy tale."
"but it is kind of romantic, don't you think?" kaoru said with a sly smile, glancing toward mori, who now stood beside (name) beneath the shade of a sacred cedar, quietly watching as she lit incense for the offering alter.
he held out a matchbox before she could even reach for it.
she didn't speak.
neither did he.
but their fingers brushed as she accepted it, and something invisible passed between them.
the twins turned back around, grinning.
haruhi stared. "... so they're really getting married someday?"
kyoya glanced at her again. "unless either family withdrawals, yes. though I doubt they will."
"why?"
this time, kyoya smirked faintly. "because, haruhi... have you seen the way he looks at her?"
the soft murmur of voices faded behind her as she and mori slipped down a side path, away from the main shrine courtyard.
the cicadas were louder here. the wind quieter.
no one followed.
(name) led him past a roped-off archway most of the host club hadn't noticed, its wooden beams older than the rest, carved with worn glyphs and smoothed by time. a small talisman swayed gently from its centre.
mori didn't ask where she was going.
he simply followed.
she walked in silence, her footsteps almost soundless on the stone. finally, she stopped before a small wooden structure nestled between two ancient trees, its walls aged silver with time, its thatched roof bowed slightly under the weight of years.
"this is the naishinden," (name) said quietly, folding your hands in front of her. "the inner hall. only the head priestess and her direct bloodline are allowed inside."
mori's expression didn't shift, but he looked at her fully now, not just watching, but waiting.
"I've never shown anyone this," she added, a little breathless, as she reached for the rusted bronze handle. "not even other family members. but... I want you to see it."
she slid the door open.
the interior was dim and cool. tatami mats stretched beneath your feet, and the smell of cedar and time hung in the air. a simple alter sat at the far end, flanked by tall white paper streamers and two faded fox statues, their features smoothed by centuries.
everything was still.
the space felt like a memory they had walked into.
she stepped aside to let him in.
mori entered without hesitation. he didn't speak. he didn't need to. his eyes scanned the room slowly, not with the awe of someone seeing something rare, but with the reverence of someone recognizing it.
(name) walked to the alter and knelt, motioning for him to join her. when he did, her shoulders relaxed.
"sometimes," she whispered. "I come here when it's too much. the expectations. the silence. the weight of being me."
his gaze stayed on her.
she looked at her hands, resting in her lap.
"they always say I'm poised. polite. perfect," she laughed softly. "but here, I don't have to be anything."
a pause.
then, she felt it. the brush if his pinky against hers, resting lightly between the spaces of silence.
"I don't think you're perfect," mori said softly.
she blinked, startled. he rarely spoke first.
she turned to look at him.
"I think you're real," he added, eyes steady. "you're yourself. that's better than perfect."
(names) heart thudded quietly in her chest.
the wind outside rustled the trees.
inside, everything stayed still.
she smiled. not for anyone watching. just for him.
"I'm glad it's you."
he didn't ask what she meant.
he didn't need to.
by the time (name) and mori made their way back down the winding path, the sun had dipped lower behind the trees, casting long golden shadows across the shrine grounds. the forest seemed to hum with life. cicadas in chorus, lanterns flickering to life one by one, and the low, distant toll of a ceremonial bell.
the host club was gathered again in the central courtyard, caught in their usual choas.
"tamaki-senpai," haruhi sighed, gently tugging a yakitori skewer from his hand, "you just ate mochi."
"I'm carbo-loading for the dance, haruhi!" tamaki declared, dramatically placing a hand to his chest. "one must keep up their strength to twirl royalty!"
kyoya was efficiently organizing everyone's places with a fan with one band and a clipboard in the other. honey was bouncing with excitement, cotton candy now replaced by grilled corn.
the moment (name) and mori stepped back into view, heads turned.
Hikaru nudged kaoru.
"hmmm," kaoru hummed, tilting his head. "was it just me, or did they disappear for a while?"
haruhi blinked. "they did. where'd you two go?"
(name) opened her mouth, than hesitated.
mori simply adjusted the fold of his sleeve.
she gave a soft smile. "just... somewhere quiet."
kyoya's gaze flicked between the two of them, taking in the slight change in posture, the shift in space, how mori now stood closer than before, how her expression seemed a shade more open.
he smirked subtly. "I see."
"oooh?" tamaki blinked, oblivious. "what do you see? is there something we're missing? I don't want to miss any emotionally significant development-"
the sharp crack of a taiko drum echoed through the courtyard, signaling the start of the obon festival.
from the shrine steps, (names) grandmother appeared in full ceremonial robes, her presence commanding but serene.
"the sacred dances will begin shortly," (name) said, regaining her composure. "we should take our places."
colour bloomed across the grounds as more guests arrived. nobles, shrine attendants, performers. lanterns swayed gently overhead like floating fireflies. music swelled in the distance, strings and drums woven together in an old rhythm.
as the host club was ushered to the best viewing spot (courtesy of kyoya's influence, no doubt), she turned to mori beside her.
(name) tilted her head, her voice just barely above the sound of drums.
"will you stay close during the dance?"
he didn't speak. he just nodded once.
and as she moved to take her place on the main platform, the centre of it all, she felt his presence behind her like steady wind.
not loud.
not boastful.
but certain.
unshakable.
hers.
the moment the flute began, the world seemed to still.
even the cicadas fell silent.
mori stood at the edge of the crowd beside the host club, arms folded loosely in his sleeves, face unreadable as always. guests murmured in awe as (name) stepped onto the sacred platform, a raised wooden stage surrounded by tall lanterns and drifting incense smoke.
the night air turned to gold.
she wore layered robes now, flowing silk in shades of white and red, bound with a golden sash and embroidered with sacred motifs: foxes, Sakura petals, cranes in flight. a crown of white blossoms circled her head, delicate bells woven through her hair that chimed gently with every movement.
and then she moved.
not quickly. not showy.
but with purpose.
each step, each tilt of her wrist, each turn of her gaze was deliberate like drawing prayers into the air with her body.
mori didn't move.
didn't blink.
didn't breathe.
he had seen (name) dance before. as children. as students. in passing.
but never like this.
never with the weight of centuries in her fingertips.
never with the moonlight in her eyes.
he watched the soft sweep of her sleeves, the way her feet barely kissed the ground, the stillness between her movements that said more than motion ever could.
something stirred in his chest.
not fast. not loud.
but deep.
like the groan of earth beneath old roots.
he remembered the shrine's inner hall, the way she opened it for him, like it wad the easiest thing in the world, when it was anything but. the way her voice cracked when (name) said she felt free only there. the way she smiled when she looked at him.
and now... he saw it reflected in her dance.
she wasn't just performing.
she was sharing something.
she was opening yourself again, this time not just with him, but to her ancestors, to the gods, to the silence between stars.
and he was the only one in the crowd who truly understood what she was saying without words.
from beside him, he vaguely registered honey whispering, "she's really amazing, huh?"
mori didn't answer.
his eyes didn't leave her.
but his fingers curled slightly around his sleeve.
not in tension.
in realization.
this is the person I'll spend my life with.
and for the first time, that thought didn't feel like an obligation handed down by family tradition.
it felt like the truth.
the music began to slow. (name) turned towards the alter, placing her final offering, a folded fan, the symbol of breath and life, on its surface.
the bells in her crown chimed once more.
and then the dance ended.
applause rose around him.
mori didn't clap.
he only lowered his gaze, breathing out softly through his nose.
like a vow being sealed.
the clapping had faded.
the music, the ceremony, the lights, all of it continued behind (name) in a distant glow as she stepped quietly behind the shrine's main hall. the air was cooler here, the night sky stretching wide and quiet overhead, dotted with stars.
she exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the performance still lingering in her limbs. not exhaustion, but something close. like part of her had been offered up in the dance and only now returning to her body.
"(name)-chan!!"
she turned just in time to see a blur of pink and gold fly into her arms.
honey giggled, hugging her tight. "you looked so pretty up there! like a celestial maiden!"
(name) laughed softly and hugged him back, warmth flooding into her chest. "thank you, mitsukuni."
he pulled back, eyes bright. "you made everyone in the crowd quiet! even tamaki!"
"miracle of the year," she teased, glancing past him.
mori stood just behind.
silent.
watching.
but something in his expression had changed.
he stepped forward slowly, and honey slipped off toward the food stalls again, humming something off-key about "festival dango."
(name) and mori were alone again.
she tilted her head slightly. "you didn't say anything when it ended."
"I didn't need to."
she smiled faintly. "was it alright?"
he looked at her, really looked, and his voice was quiet, but steady.
"you looked like you belonged to the stars."
her breath caught.
the cicadas, the drums, the crackled of oil lanterns all fell away for a moment.
she looked down, cheeks warm, hands folding slightly in front of her. "you always know exactly what to say... when it counts."
he took a step closer.
his fingers brushed against hers, just like they had in the inner hall. except this time, they lingered.
"you always know exactly how to be seen," he said. "even when you think you're not."
and for a moment longer, fingers touching, nothing else needed between them.
and though neither of them said it, not yet, they both knew:
this wasn't just a duty.
this wasn't just history.
this was becoming something real.
the sound of the festival carried softly in the distance. laughter, music, the faint pop of fireworks being tested. but here, beneath the lantern light filtering through shrine eaves, everything felt still again.
mori's fingers remained gently linked with (names).
she has grown used to silence with him, not because there was nothing to say, but because nothing needed to be said.
until now.
he reached into the inner fold of his yukata, drawing out a small object wrapped in a square of deep blue cloth. it fit neatly in his palm, nothing grand or glittering, just something simple, lovingly preserved.
he held it out to her without a word.
(name) hesitated before unfolding the cloth.
inside was a small wooden omamori charm, a protective talisman, weathered slightly at the edges but still carefully tied with white thread. the writing on it was old. faded from time.
"...this is a morinozuka family charm," she murmured, fingertips brushing the wood. "it's handmade."
he nodded once.
"my grandfather gave it to me," he said quietly. "when I turned ten. said it was for... what I was suppose to protect."
(name) looked up at him, lips parted, the weight of what he was saying slowly sinking in.
"he told me," mori continued, voice low, "to give it away only once. when I knew."
she swallowed hard.
"knew what?"
he met her eyes.
"that it wasn't duty anymore."
something tugged in her chest, a tightness, warm and acting all at once.
he placed the charm gently in her hands hand curled her fingers around it.
"now," he said, almost a whisper, "it's yours."
(name) stared at her closed hands, then back at him.
"...Takashi," she breathed, her voice barely audible. "are you sure?"
he nodded.
"I've always been sure."
and then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he reached out. not to kiss her, not to take anything, but just to brush her hair back, tucking a blossom from her crown behind her ear with the kind of care that didn't need ceremony.
just truth.
she didn't need to say thank you.
he didn't need to hear it.
the charm in her hand said everything.
the omamori charm felt warm in her palm, even tucked safely back into its cloth. (name) hadn't let go of it once.
beside her, mori walked quietly, his stride matched with hers. their fingers brushed again, and this time, she didn't pull away. instead, she laced her hand with his.
it was natural.
no fanfare.
no tension.
just stillness, a kind of peace that hummed between the two of them like the lanterns swaying above.
the path opened again into the heart of the festival. lights glittered across the courtyard. drums pulsed in time with dancing feet. the smells of sweet dango, grilled squid, and fresh mochi filled the air.
"there you are!!" honey's voice practically launched itself through the crowd.
(name) barely had time to react before he zipped in and clung to her other side. "you missed the watermelon smashing game! tama-chan got dizzy and fell in the koi pond."
"I was pushed!" tamaki wailed from behind a tree, clothes half-soaked and hair frizzing in all directions.
"self-inflicted," kyoya said, sipping from a porcelain tea cup like this was completely normal.
the twins appeared next, flanking (name) and mori like foxes sensing drama.
"ohoho~" Hikaru smirked. "what's this? a mysterious return... hand in hand?"
"and what's this?" kaoru added, spotting the cloth-wrapped charm she'd tucked carefully into her sash. "is that a morinozuka heirloom?"
she froze for half a second, but mori didn't.
he squeezed her hand gently. just once.
the twins shrieked.
"mori-senpai GAVE IT TO YOU?"
haruhi tilted her head. "is that a big deal?"
"YES," half the club shouted in unison.
"HE MIGHT AS WELL HAVE PROPOSED."
tamaki collapsed into a bush. "our baby is GROWING UP-"
"technically, she's betrothed," kyoya muttered, now scribbling something into what looked suspiciously like a host club marriage registry.
(name) covered her face with her sleeve, half-laughing, half-hiding. mori didn't react, just stood beside her like an immovable wall of calm. but there was a small lift at the corner of his mouth that hadn't been there earlier.
it made her heart stutter.
honey tugged her forward. "let's play the ring toss game together next! taka-chan never misses!"
"you'll win every prize," (name) said, smiling.
"we'll share them!" honey chirped, and she laughed.
as the group walked together into the noise and light, she stayed by mori's side, hand intertwined in his.
the festival pulsed around her. warm, full, alive.
laughter echoed between the lanterns.
and even though their families planned this future long ago, she finally understood:
this wasn't something decided for her.
this was something she was choosing. step by step, word by word, hand in hand.
and under the starlight, between one moment and the next she knew:
Here's part 2! I’m so sorry for the late update! It’s hard to write smart characters when your brain is fried from work every day.
Lahan x reader fanfic where you are the mastermind behind your clan and Lahan has made it his mission to unravel you and everything about you.
Summary: Navigating your new relationship with Lahan, you try to figure out why you were invited to the La estate. Will you fall for Lahan first or his father's schemes?
Part 1
Divider by @uzmacchiato
"You called for me?"
Your voice rings out as you step into your father's chambers. Hearing the doors close behind you, you turn and let your eyes follow the disappearing figure of the servant who summoned you. It's not until you hear the sound of footsteps fall silent do you make your way deeper into the room.
It’s been a few days since you’ve met with your father in private. You could use the excuse that you'd done it to squash any suspicions of your connection to your father's political activities, but that wouldn't be the full truth. In reality, it’s because Lakan has been a thorn in your side ever since your go game.
Following you everywhere, inviting you to meals and teas, he’s kept a better eye on you than a prison steward. From the moment the sun rose to when the moon glimmers in the night sky, he seems to have made it his mission to keep you busy the entire day. When you do finally gain a moment to yourself, you’re too exhausted to even think about leaving your bed.
And yet, you can’t lie and say you were completely bothered by him. No, these past few days have been the most fun you've had in a while. But you would never admit that to him.
No, doing that would feel like losing.
You find your father sitting at his desk, stacks upon stacks of paper surround him. The moment he senses your presence, his frantic eyes raise from the mess. “Y/n, whan do we do?” he asks, running his hand through his hair. “I don’t think I can sit through another meeting.”
Your eyes soften at him in pity. Walking over to him, you kneel slightly beside his chair, your hand clasping his own to soothe him. “I know, father. You have done so well this past week.”
From this distance, you notice how old he’s grown. The corner of his eyes wrinkles when he looks at you, the frown lines on his face are deeper, and his hair is whiter than not. They are a heavy reminder that he's no longer fit for things kinds of things. A reminder that he should be at home enjoying his retirement, not here as a political puppet.
You mustn't forget why you are here. You mustn't forget your goals.
Keeping your words vague in fear of being overheard, you speak softly to your father. "Don't worry, Father. All will be done soon." You watch as he visibly relaxes at the sureness of your voice. You smile softly at his trust in you. You didn't need to voice your plans out loud to him—he trusted you unwaveringly.
Before leaving, you had pre-emptively organized with your estate that if you were kept at the La estate for too long, a message would be delivered requesting your urgent return.
The message would be delivered to both you and Lakan. However, Lakan's would be delivered first. You found it suspicious how Lakan’s invitation to your father had mentioned that you were welcome to join as well. Yes, you had built a reputation for yourself as someone who clung to their father. But the way he had mentioned your name specifically instead of just ‘daughter’ made you deeply unsettled. You weren’t supposed to be important; Your name shouldn't have been worth remembering. So why did he go out of his way to explicitly mention you?
Was there a hidden objective to this invitation?
You plan on finding out. The first message sent privately to Lakan will reveal his intentions. Will he tell you right away? Or will he withhold the information. Since it would be an urgent request, he has the responsibility to inform your father immediately upon receiving it. However, knowing his insatiable nature, if he’s not yet satisfied with your stay, he may delay your return.
This delay will confirm your suspicions that Lakan had an ulterior motive to inviting you to his estate. But more importantly, the delay will confirm that he hasn't obtained whatever it is that he had schemed for.
If so, then you need to leave immediately. And that’s what the second messenger is for.
Even if Lakan decides to withhold the message, it will reach you anyway. He wouldn't be able to further delay your departure. The excuse would be that since the message was important, they had to be sure it got to you. With a rise in robberies and bandits in-between your territories, your household simply sent another messenger as a contingency plan should the first messenger fail.
You squeeze your father's hand in one last act of assurance. Rising up from your kneeling position, you look towards the window. The messenger should arrive tomorrow. It's time to go home, you think to yourself.
A pair of fox-like eyes flash through your mind.
You shake your head to get rid of the vexing thought. "Y/n?" Your father asks, concern tinting his voice.
"It's nothing," you respond. "I'm just a bit tired, that's all."
The hues of the setting sun shine through the windows and stain your skin pink and orange. The room is illuminated by the warmth of these colours, and it all starts to seem so unreal.
Your father gives you an equally warm smile. "Then please go rest. I'll see you tomorrow.” He pats your hand softly. “Have a good rest, dear."
"As do you, father. Have a peaceful night." You bow your head at your father and make your way out of his chambers. Closing the two doors, you pause for a moment. The palm of your hand rests against the smooth, ornate wood. You close your eyes as you appreciate the gentle breeze that blows through your hair. A soft sigh escapes you as you try to mentally prepare for what’s to come.
"Oh? What a coincidence seeing you here."
And with just that sentence alone, reality comes crashing down on you. The sigh you let out this time is more exasperated. You slowly turn around to greet the owner of the honey voice.
"Lahan-sama, good evening. What brings you here?" You say politely with an overly curated smile.
Standing a few steps away from you is the man you thought you got a break from today. With his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes carry a hint of mischief. "Ah, I was just taking a stroll. Care to join me?"
Ok, maybe more than a hint.
You can't help but roll your eyes at him. You should be concerned about maintaining your image, but the thought that this might be your last meeting spurs something in you.
"Is that your wish, Lahan-sama?" You ask, the corner of your mouth pulling into a small grin.
He responds in kind. "If I said it wasn't, would you still join me?"
"Who knows?" You retort, playfulness twinkling in your eyes.
At that, Lahan couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle. His head shakes in a way that appears fond. "Well, it's not my wish but if you join me, maybe I'll tell you," he says, tilting his head in a way that makes him resemble more like a puppy than a fox.
You pretend to be pensive. But even you knew there was only ever going to be one answer you’d give him. "Hmmm, that’s quite an interesting proposition.”
You move to walk towards him, enjoying the way his eyes follow you. You let your arm barely graze his as you pass him. Your head peers back playfully, “lead the way."
Lahan laughs once again as he steps towards you. He offers his arm, and you take it—allowing him to guide you out of the guest’s wing. The warmth of his arm comforts you as well as his faint scent of something woody and fresh. Glancing up at his face, you can’t help but be enamored by the way the sun melts into his skin. From this walk, from this distance, from the easiness of it all, you start to forget about your nerves for the day to come.
"Well, will you tell me the real reason why you came to my father's chambers?" You ask after a moment of comfortable silence.
"Hmm?" He hums as if he was lost in thought. "Oh yes, it's because I heard you were asking for me,” he continues.
You narrow your eyes at him in response. You never asked for him, though? Unless... oh. He must be talking about the guard you had ordered to spy on him. Seems like you've been busted.
You needed to make sure he hadn’t done anything with his new knowledge. You thought that he’d use your secret against you like how he’d done countless of times to others. Yet, contrary to your beliefs, he hadn’t done anything with your secret. Maybe he’s just waiting for the perfect time to strike.
You scoff. "More like asking about," you mutter under your breath.
"Same difference," he says with a shrug. "Why ask a guard when you can ask the real deal? If you're so curious about me, I could always answer your questions," he says, his eyes gleaming. "But off course for a small price," he says, rubbing his fingers together.
"And how much more are you trying to take from me?" You let out an amused huff in disbelief at his greed. He already has his wish to use, and now he's asking for more?
His pace falls slightly. "I'd take everything, if I could," he confesses casually, words falling out as easy as a breath.
Heat floods your ears, and you can't help but stare incredulously at him. You turn your eyes away from him, raising your sleeved hand to hide your face. You start to pull away, but his other hand goes to rest on top of yours, keeping your arm linked into his. If anything, he pulls you closer, his body now facing yours. His head tilts down to yours, his eyes focused on your face.
"Don't move."
You look at him, confused and embarrassed at his random command. Your hand falls for a moment as you watch his eyes roam your face.
"Interesting,” he says. He lifts his finger slowly and gently caresses your cheek, moving a stray strand of hair to the side. “I thought I only enjoyed your cunning look, but this is equally enjoyable." His shifts his hand to palm the side of your cheek.
"So, red." His gaze flickers down a little too low and long for your liking. "I wonder how low it goes."
"You!" You immediately pull yourself from him. Marching away from him as quickly as you can, you press your hands to your cheeks to try to cool them.
You start to walk a little faster when you hear Lahan's bright and carefree laughter behind you. "Haha, sorry, I- wait! Come back here!" His smile is radiant when he catches up to you.
"You scoundrel," you say annoyance coating your voice, although fondness seeps through. "I'm returning to my chambers," you tut.
At least he has the gall to look a little apologetic. "Please, at least let me escort you back," he says with a lilt in his voice.
You don't respond to him, but you don’t hasten your pace either. He stands tall beside you, walking with his hands clasped together underneath his sleeves respectfully. Although he is now a respectful distance away from you, you can feel his eyes land on you every once in a while.
They were curious eyes. Eyes that seem to be tracing every part of you, as if committing them to memory. You want to speak up, but you're afraid your embarrassment at his devoted attention would show.
The sun is fully set by the time he escorts you to your door. You turn to face him before entering your chambers.
"You've promised me something."
"Oh, have I?" He lilts with his head tilting towards you.
"Here's the part where you tell me your wish," you respond, arms crossed in front of your chest expectantly.
His smile is crooked when he speaks. "I only said maybe, didn't I?" With one hand, he slowly unfurls yours from your guarded stance and brings it to his lips. His kiss against your knuckle is tender and chaste.
"This is the part where I bid you goodnight, Lady y/n. " He says sweetly, the softness of his eyes contrasting their sharp shape.
Your mouth curves into a small smile. “Fine, I'll let you off this time." Letting your hand fall from his, you open the door and step into your room. Hugging the door before closing it, you give him one last mischievous smile. "But only this time."
The laughter that responds is melodic. It makes your heart sing. "I won't take your generosity for granted," he says with shining eyes.
"Goodnight, y/n.”
"Goodnight, Lahan."
The morning cold bites at your skin as you lean against your window the next day. The sun has barely risen, but the sky has already shifted into a brighter shade of blue and yellow. The only ones awake are a few servants who sluggishly move through the halls to start their tasks.
Closing your window, you sit back down on your bed. It will take another hour or two for your servants to come and prepare you for the day. Too anxious to fully lie down, you simply wait and listen to the sound of chirps from the morning birds. If all things go according to plan, the message should be delivered any minute now.
And yet you hear nothing. You don't hear the scurrying of feet outside your room or the sound of alarmed voices. Even after you've been dressed and served breakfast, there is no disturbance in the peaceful morning.
Your heart starts to thump against your ribs when your second meal is served to you. No one has come to talk to you at all. Not your guard, not your father, not even Lahan. The stillness of it all is driving you up the wall.
Did your plan fail? There's no possible way that one of your most trusted messengers had failed to deliver your message on time. Surely, this must mean that Lakan has received the message and has chosen to hide it. But then, why hasn’t your messenger given you the signal that he's delivered the message already? If he made contact, a servant was supposed to serve you a special tea that's only unique to your territory. Your messenger would give it to them in the guise that your estate had sent it because you must've missed it during your time away.
But the tea they have given you is merely green tea.
Looking up at the young maid assigned to you, you ask her if there were any other teas. She looks at you for a minute before listing out all the tea leaves at the estate with no mention of receiving anything from your messenger.
Something is wrong.
You thank her, and it’s not until she leaves your chambers do you realize how tightly clenched your fists are under the table.
You breathe in and out slowly. You are not going to stumble just because a few things aren't going to plan. No, you're better than that.
You get up from your chair and immediately slip out of your room without alerting the guards. The hair on the back of your neck stands up, and the feeling in your gut is making you increasingly uneasy. You must go to your father at once and see if he has any updates on the situat-
"In a rush?"
That sing-song voice stops you in your tracks. Your heart flies to your throat as you come to a halt.
Slowly turning your head to the side, you see the La Clan member you wanted to avoid the most. The one who puts you on edge by his mere presence.
"What a coincidence, just as I was about to go see you," Lakan smiles eerily at you.
The sudden sense of déjà vu doesn't help the disorientation. Your heart is too rapid, and your senses too heightened to calm down. With closed eyes, you breathe in a deep and long breath before you turn and bow at the head clan member.
"Good afternoon, Lakan-sama," you begin, your arms raised in front of your face in an act of respect and fealty. You don't dare to raise your face in the fear that he'll see how shaken you are.
"Please, please, don't be so formal. Especially to me!" He says disarmingly, an easygoing facade washes over him. "I just wanted to stop by to see if you'd join me for tea?"
Rising up to your full height, you look at the older man in front of you. Although he is standing a couple of steps below you in the courtyard, his presence is bigger than ever. His smile might be light, but his eyes are focused and solid on your form.
"Or were you heading somewhere?" He asks, his eyes daring you to reject him.
"Oh, how could I refuse?" You say with a cheery smile—even if the true meaning behind those words were more sardonic and accusatory. "I was just heading to my father to see if he was free to have tea with me. Shall I ask him to join us?"
His eyes appear crescent like when he smiles again. "He can join us later." Walking up the steps, he reaches you in no time. He stands in front of you and simply stares down at you. His entire demeanour screams, 'do you have a problem with that?' Your mouth is dry as you look back at him, not one to back down.
Your brain is working overtime as you try to think of what expression you're supposed to give him. Should you pretend to be sad at this and beg him to let your father be with you? Or should you pretend to be surprised and then ask him why? Would he be offended by your quasi-rejection?
As if waiting for a reaction that he doesn't get, he lets out a shallow sigh before turning and heading to his office without so much as another word.
Your eyes widen at his actions, but you know better than to drag your feet. You walk swiftly to fall in line behind him. Glaring at the back of his head, you wished you could read his mind or at least ask him for an explanation.
When you reach his office, his guard opens the door and usher the two of you in. You see him talk to his servant before he gestures for you to take a seat at the table. "Tea will be ready soon."
You nod as naturally as you can before gracefully sitting down on your chair. Without the tea, anyone would mistake this interaction as a meeting. With nothing to hide behind or to distract yourself, you're forced to give your full and undivided attention to the dangerous man in front of you. Looking up at the man seated across from you, you can't help but notice the resemblance. His eyes were just as sharp as Lahan’s, but they held a weight that could only be obtained from age and experience. There was a heaviness that made them appear solemn in some lights. They looked like they were looking through you.
"Is there any reason in particular that you wished to see me, Lakan-sama?" You begin the discussion slowly, your blood thrumming in your veins. "I can't imagine that I'd be an entertaining tea guest."
"I just thought it was about time that we talked." He responds cooly, leaning forward slightly with his hands clasped together on the table. "You seem to be getting along well with my son."
Your blood freezes. Did he tell him? Were you so foolish as to trust him?
"Yes, he's been a kind and generous host."
"Pfft" Lakan chuckles. "I don't know if I'd use those words to describe him. He's a bit on the weird side, but," he continues, "he takes care of what's his with the upmost devotion and respect."
"Right..." you respond unsure, your voice nearly inclining into a question.
Lakan speaks on. "Although, I guess it runs in the family. People like to say our family is a bit eccentric."
Only a bit?
You clear your throat. "Does that bother you?" You ask.
"Should it bother us?" He asks back. "It’s not like they can do anything about it. Judge all they want; they can’t say anything about our results.” He looks a bit sheepish when he continues. "They also never really say it to our faces."
You can't lie and say you haven't heard about the gossip around the La Clan. How they're hard to get along with and borderline crazy. Nonetheless, people still fight tooth and nail just to get a seat at the table with them. Strong and dangerous, they’ve made it so that no one could ever hurt them even if they wanted to.
“I see,” you say cautiously. You’re at a loss for words on how to continue this conversation.
“But you know what else they say about our family?” he carries on, seemingly oblivious to your dry responses. “That we’re strategic, cunning, smart, and competent.” He studies your expression well before he continues. “Do you happen to know someone like that?”
Your heart drops at his question. You clench your hand on your lap as you attempt to hide your reaction. Should you say your father? No, that feels wrong. “Why, I don’t think anyone could ever be on par with your family, Lakan-sama," you respond, deciding flattery was the safest option.
“Well, that’s a shame,” a knock on the door interrupts him. A servant comes bringing tea. “Because I’d love to have them in the family.”
You don’t think much about his statement because all you feel is a sense of relief. You have never been so grateful in your life for someone interrupting your conversation. If only they could remove you from this conversation altogether.
“Oh, that reminds me, I have another matter I wanted to discuss with you.”
You nod your head attentively as you raise your cup to your lips. The fragrance of the tea halts you in your motion.
It was your tea. The tea that the messenger should've given your servant.
Glancing up at Lahan, you're met with a knowing smirk. “But you probably already know what I want to talk about, don’t you?”
Setting down your cup, you rest your hands around it to try to steal its warmth and comfort. “Any important matters should be discussed with my father,” you state flatly, neither agreeing nor denying.
“Why should I do that when he’s going to relay it to you anyway?” He responds, his mouth pulling into a satisfied smile for the first time since this conversation started. Both of you stare at each other, analyzing each other.
“Let’s say that I did know what you wish to speak about.” You begin, slowly giving in to his ploy. “How sure are you that I will give you the answer you want.”
“It’s not you who I’m betting on.”
“Oh? Who is it? My father?”
“Him? I wouldn’t need to convince him to make him do my bidding. I’m just trying to hurry things along”
Hurry? What did he mean by hurry?
"Pardon me, Lakan-sama, but what do you mean by that?"
"Hmm? Well, it's been a few weeks, so I thought by now...uh," he trails on with his sentence unfinished. He looks like he's struggling to find the right words, but even if he did speak again, they would fall on deaf ears.
Did you read Lakan wrong? Has he already found what he needed from you and your father? Did you overestimate his interest in you? The thoughts swirling around your head are only amplified by the sting of disappointment.
“I-I must apologize on behalf of me and my father for overstaying and exploiting your kindness. I wasn't aware that we were taking too much of your time.” You say immediately, bowing your head in reverence. "We will leave immediately."
“Oh no, no, please," Lakan says. "At least allow us to host a farewell banquet tonight.” Lakan waves his hand reassuringly. “We wouldn’t want people thinking you scurried home after a cup of tea now, would we?”
He didn't deny your statement. Oh, how foolish you were to think of yourself so highly.
“Why of course, thank you so much for showing us generosity time and time again.” You lift your head from your bow. “I will tell my father at once.”
With a nod from Lakan, you stand up from your seat but your legs wobble slightly. You feel sick but you mask it by bowing deeply at him again. As you exit his office you hear him call out.
“I look forward to tonight!”
You feel numb when you look at your reflection and watch the servants comb your hair for the banquet. Although you know you should feel beautiful and excited at the way they've done your makeup and adorned you in such finery, you feel repulsed at yourself. Shame flashes through your body at your presumptuousness.
A dreaded thought enters your mind. Were you also reading too much into Lahan’s actions? Or worse, did Lahan lose his interest in you, too? Would he kick you out just like his father after he was done with you? You don’t think you could handle seeing his disinterested gaze or his bored expression directed at you.
After the banquet, you were leaving. There was no room for discussion. Your father tried to reason with you that you should leave in the morning, but when he saw your facade crumble ever so slightly, he closed his mouth and accepted your request.
With a forlorn sigh, you glance back at the mirror, and you nearly jump when you notice another person reflected. Leaning on the wall studying you was Lahan.
He waves his hand dismissively, and the servants bow before leaving the room. You don’t have the heart to turn around and face him.
"What do I hear about you leaving so quickly?" He asks, making his way towards you.
"Quickly? I've been here for more than we initially planned. It's about high time that I return home." You quip back, posture growing more rigid as you anticipate his arrival at your side.
"I heard from my father that it's urgent, but both you and I know that that's a lie." He says angrily as he places his hand down on your vanity. "There's nothing going on in your territory, and you know it."
"There is, or there isn't. It doesn't change the fact that I must go home." You say watching the way his fingers curl on the table. "Besides, it's not like this is goodbye forever. You can always send another invitation," you try to reason, but even to your ears, it sounds like a lie.
At that he scoffs, his hand falls back to his side as he takes a moment to look at you. A silent moment falls, and although you want to see what expression he was making, you keep your eyes forward on the mirror.
"But will you accept it?" He asks, his voice a bit rough and shaken. "I have a feeling that if I let you go now, I won't see you again, will I?"
No you won't.
You've already done more damage to your security than you could imagine. Now that you've revealed your hand to the La Clan, there's no telling what is going to happen to you. The best thing you can do is damage control. Yes, that's why you're running away. Not because you're scared of getting hurt.
He leans towards you, but this time, he approaches you as if you would disappear if he was too haste. He gently lifts your face to face his. "So what can I do to make you stay?" He asks in a way that's tinged with desparation, making your heart squeeze.
The way his eyes searches yours, hoping, begging for you to tell him anything. The way he holds your face as if you're about to crumble, as if you're a delicate porcelain. It's too much for you to handle.
You rip yourself from his embrace, standing up and moving away from him. You don't turn around because you're scared of seeing the hurt across his face.
"And if I told you I want to leave? That it's not the urgent message that's driving me home but my own desires? Will you force me to stay?" You exclaim, your back towards him.
"I know that's not what you want. I know that you want to stay with me just as much as I want to stay with you-"
"There is nothing between us but surface level infatuation." You blow up, interrupting him. "You think you like me, but it's only a matter of time before you get bored of me and move on to the next best thing."
His posture goes rigid. "What?"
"You'll soon forget about me as nothing more than a passing phase. You'll find something else that sparks your curiosity and is worthy of garnering your obsession." You say. "This infatuation of yours is only but a temporary reaction to something new."
His dry laughter makes your head snap to him. "And what makes you think that you know me so well?"
He stalks towards you, and you take steps back until you're pressed to the edge of a table.
"It's not good to rely on conjecture, Lady y/n." He chastises as he places an arm on either side of you onto the table trapping you. "Tell me, have I done anything to support this hypothesis?"
His eyes bear into your soul. "Have I said something? Have I acted in any way that made you feel replaceable?" The intensity of his stare makes your heart quicken.
"No," you say, using all your will to keep your voice from quivering. "But like you said, I'm not so sure that I know you that well. I can't understand what you could possibly want from me?"
Your question hangs in the air for a moment, and you can't pin what kind of expression is on his face.
He leans irrevocably closer to you. His hand moves to rest on the small of your back, pushing you lightly against him. "Before you asked me how much more I'm to trying to take from you," he confesses. "And I don't think you even fathom how much it is that I want."
His eyes are unwavering and strong. "Your quick wit, your sharp tongue, your bleeding heart. How was I supposed to resist?"
Your heart pounds in your ears, and your fingers dig into his sleeves.
"I want to strategize business with you, discuss military movements with you, I want to see your intelligent brain work openly and unrestricted." He lets out a shaky breath. "I want to go on strolls with you, play go with you, I want to hear your sweet laughter."
You almost miss the heat in his eyes when he leans into you. "You've made me insatiable. I have wanted like I've never wanted before," he growls into the shell of your ear. A shiver goes up your spine, and you wonder if he can feel it with the hand that's burning hot on your back.
"To take from or to take, the line is blurring so quickly every day, and I can't decide," he breathes out, his words softly caressing your skin.
He leans back to look down into your eyes. "Oh, how I want to take you," he whispers, eyes half-lidded and full of restrained want. You inhale sharply when you feel his other hand rise to your cheek.
"Tell me," he rasps and his eyes penatrate deep into yours. "Will you let me?" Desperation tinges his voice, making it sound almost like a whine. It sends a fluttering panic throughout your whole body. It roots you in your place even though the adrenaline is urging you to move.
He swallows heavily, quivering lips part once more. "Please?"
That one word alone breaks the thick armored walls you've built up for years. Surging towards him like a moth to a flame, you let yourself burn in his kiss. The sting of his teeth, the heat of his mouth, it's dizzying, it's frantic, it's intoxicating and utterly ridiculous.
You break the kiss for air, but he chases after you again. His insatiable greed suffocates you with desire. The taste of need is intense in your mouth as he explores it like a starved man. Snaking his arms around your waist, you yelp when you feel him hoist you onto the table, pushing himself in between your legs and into your space. It quickly turns into a moan when one of his hands slides down to squeeze your hip.
He's ravenous against you. You feel as if you're drowning in pleasure and his embrace. It's too much and you're starting to get light-headed from the lack of air. You lock one hand into his hair, and the other onto his back, and you pull. You pull with all your strength to get this man off you. With a heated groan, his head finally pulls back with your hand, but his arms still lock your waist in a deadly grip. A grip that says that you're not allowed to leave him even for a heartbeat.
You're panting heavily, gulping for air as if you had been under water for too long. And he watches. He watches with an intense focus, and his head tilted back—hair still gripped in your hand. His eyes are dark and heavy, too busy looking at the way your lips part to realize that he's panting himself.
Your heaving chest flushes against his, and you're caught off guard by the firmness of his body. That slight moment of hesitancy loosens your grip, and he lunges back forward. Your gasps is muffled as he captures your lips in another fiery kiss. All-consuming and hot, something you would've never associated with the meticulous and careful man in front of you. And yet it's everything you've ever wanted.
It takes your whines and more harsh tugs for him to pull away from you again. Although reluctant, he seems to finally comprehend your need for oxygen.
"Sorry," he apologizes, but it comes out breathless and not sorry at all. He probably meant for that to sound sheepish, but with how his eyes fall back onto your lips, you're not so sure he's even trying.
"That's my first time doing something like that," he attempts to explain.
If that was his first time, you don't want to know what his second will be like.
You can't help but blush at that thought. That seems to compell him to lay quick pecks onto your flushed cheeks. You can't help but laugh at his actions. The knot that has been building in your chest finally loosens. You feel his smile against your neck as he kisses you loud and obnoxious. You move your arms to lay your hands on his chest and push him away from you slightly.
The look he gives you is one like a kicked puppy. "We still have the banquet to go to," you say with an easy smile.
He groans out in annoyance and leans to rest his head into the crook of your neck. "It's not like we need the banquet anymore, anyways," he mutters, voice muffled by your shoulder.
"Lahan," you say one more time in a warning tone. "Alright," he says, letting out a sigh before detangling from you. "But I don't think it should be a farewell banquet anymore," he says slyly with a pleased smile.
You smile back at him. "Oh? What should it be then?"
"An engagement celebration, perhaps?" He says, taking your hand in his.
You laugh. "And who says I'm going to marry you?"
"Well, that's my wish, remember?" he says cheekily, bringing your hand in for a kiss. "Will you do me the honours of granting it?"
You roll your eyes at his grandiose scheme. "So you were really set on that since the beginning, huh? You really are a conniving fox."
"I'm taking that as a yes," he says quickly, stealing a kiss before heading towards the door. "I'll tell our fathers then. You, uh-" He blushes, his hand raises to wipe at his mouth. "Stay put. I'll, uh, call someone to help you get ready."
With that, he takes one last longing look at you before exiting your chambers. Confused at his remark, you go to your mirror and see your clothes and make up in complete disarray. Your lipstick has smudged across your skin, and you're showing more skin than you were supposed to in this outfit.
Your put-together image is ruined, and you should be mortified, but you laugh instead. Your body still hums from his heat, and you still feel drunk from his touches.
You plop down onto your bed, gazing up at the ceiling. You can’t help but bring your fingers to your lips.
Your moment of bliss is immediately ruined by a thought.
he had you bent over his bed, your thighs trembling, hands fisted in his sheets, drooling against his pillow as you rocked back onto him. the way his cock filled you always made you feel unhinged—like something primal was cracking open inside you every time he bottomed out, grunted low, and fucked you like he was done being lazy.
you moaned for him like you always did.
“f-fuck, shika—!”
he froze.
not just slowed down. not a stumble. he stopped mid-thrust, cock buried inside you, twitching against your slick heat like it didn’t want to leave—and his fingers dug into your hips like vices.
you looked back over your shoulder, dazed, confused. “shika—?”
he pulled out. fast. too fast. you let out a sharp whine as the sudden emptiness throbbed inside you, clenching down on nothing. your soaked pussy fluttered, needy, swollen, dripping down your inner thighs. you turned to face him, chest heaving, eyes blown wide from the edge of orgasm.
shikamaru’s face was… dark.
not annoyed. not tired. irritated.
he wiped a hand down his face like trying to calm himself, and muttered, “every fucking time…”
your heart kicked. “what?”
“every time we fuck—every time you moan that—‘shika’—” he spat the nickname, grimacing like the word hurt. “do you know what i hear?”
“…you?” you said weakly, thighs rubbing together for friction, still reeling from being left empty.
he laughed, bitter, under his breath.
“no. i hear him.”
it hit you all at once—shikaku.
you opened your mouth, stunned. “shikamaru, i—i didn’t mean—”
he stalked forward, eyes narrow, jaw tight, that lazy tone gone. “you think i wanna be balls deep in you, cock throbbing, and hear my dad’s name?”
you shrank back on the bed, but the heat between your legs didn’t leave. it spiked. because he looked furious—not disappointed, not cold—possessive. like something dangerous had cracked in him. he grabbed your ankle, yanked you flat to the bed, and crawled over you in one smooth motion, his hard cock dragging across your folds again, hot and slick.
“say my name right,” he growled, pressing his weight into you until your legs parted instinctively, helpless. “or i’ll fuck you so hard you won’t remember his.”
you gasped, nails raking across his back. “shikamaru—”
“better.” his voice was gravel. he lined himself up again, slapped his cock against your pussy once, hard enough to make you jump and drip. “you gonna be a good girl now?”
you nodded quickly, throat tight, already twitching for him.
he didn’t ease in this time.
he slammed back inside with one brutal thrust that knocked the breath from your lungs. you screamed—loud, raw, the sheets bunching in your fists as he started pounding into you with that rage-fueled rhythm, hips snapping against your ass over and over like he wanted to brand your cunt with the shape of his cock.
“you like moaning out for shika, huh?” he gritted, grabbing a fistful of your hair, dragging your head back so your throat arched. “you wanna make me think of him when i’m fucking you dumb?”
you choked out, “no—i swear—i only meant you—”
he leaned down, teeth against your ear, voice a snarl. “then say it. say my fucking name.”
“shikamaru—!” you sobbed, back arching as his cock hit that perfect bruising spot, again, again, faster—
he groaned, fucking harder, balls slapping against you, the bed frame creaking. “that’s right. say it again.”
“louder. i want everyone in the compound to know who you’re cumming for.”
you screamed it. over and over. as he pounded into you, as your orgasm built and burst and wrecked you beneath him. you came sobbing his full name, clenching down on his cock so hard he snarled, cursed, and shoved himself deep—balls pressed to your soaked pussy—as he filled you with a hot, heavy load that spilled out around his shaft.
he stayed inside you. breathing hard. chest heaving. jaw still clenched.
and when you dared whisper a soft, fucked-out, “shika…maru…” he smirked.
“better,” he murmured. “now get on your knees. i’m not done teaching you the difference.”
Perhaps, can I request fem reader head canon separate with wbk boys
Character : suo, sakura and kaji
Surprise them with a kiss on the lips then she just run away because feeling flustered and not a having a courage to meet the boys for a while after that incident.
"kiss, kiss, fall in love!" — ft. suo hayato, sakura haruka, kaji ren
now playing : sakura kiss (ohshc theme) - chieko ochi
prompt : fem!reader surprises them with a kiss them and runs away. the reader figure out that they like the boys back and tries to confront them. she panics and end up kissing them.
notes : I LOVE THIS REQUEST SM ANON 🥰 i hope u like itt <33 would yall believe if i said ohshc is my fave anime. well, was* (its now like,, 4th). but it reigned for more or less 3 years. hikaharu and kyoya girlie here 🙋♀️
it's been a few days since he confessed his feelings for you and you haven't stopped thinking about it. it was gentle when he spoke to you, voice full of affection and shyness.
"i like you." three words that forcibly repeated themselves in your head like a mantra. your mind ran a hundred kilometers per minute—how long did he like me, when did he find out, how did he find out, does he really mean it, how do i feel about it.
while facing him, you silently racked your brain trying to find answers to respond, scared that he might take it back or misunderstand if you took too long. and he noticed that on the expression on your face.
a hand slowly reached for yours', thumb reassuringly carressing your knuckles. he told you that he didn't need a response right away. and that he was willing to wait for you.
good for him because you were quite impatient yourself.
you had intended to confront him the moment you confirmed that you liked him back—already having thought of a general script and direction of the conversation.
but of course, things don't go as planned. of course, you panic. of course, you mess up. you planned to simply open your mouth to speak—why the hell were they pressed against his'?!
suo hayato
he feels you quietly sneaking up to him from behind. he doesn't do anything about it—a smile on his lips as he anticipates what you're planning. though, he never could've predicted what you did.
his eyes widen when he feels himself being pulled in your direction. he doesn't stumble and he doesn't resist, sees you shut your eyes so hard that it creases as you kiss him.
you don't kiss him long and once your lips part, you don't observe his reaction. you don't even give him time to process before you bolt away, leaving him to himself.
suo regains his composure a few seconds later, the tips of his fingers raising to his lips, as if he'd experience it again if he touched the place you kissed him. he smiles to himself again and calmly continues his errand around town, your lips still lingering the back of his mind.
he seeks you out later the same day. he doesn't text you because the way you ran away meant you'd be too embarrassed to face him. he has a small mischevious smile on his face when he finds you outside a bakery by the display window, checking the newly-baked goods.
you were so focused that you don't notice him sneak to position himself beside you. he gently pulls your face by your chin. it doesn't register until he tilts your face up to plant a peck on your lips.
"payback."
sakura haruka
"what are yo—?!" his words muffle against your mouth.
sakura.exe has stopped working.
sakura's eyes widen like saucers and blood rushes to his head so fast he gets dizzy. he loses his mind whenever you're close to him—he thinks he's going to explode right now. he's overwhelmed by his senses—overwhelmed by you.
he inhales harshly, his hands twitch and suddenly they're on your shoulders, pushing you back. he catches his breath like he just ran a marathon. it takes you a few breaths before the realization hits you, your whole body tensing and your eyes mirroring his'.
he opens his mouth like he was about to stutter out a few words but you couldn't face him anymore. you gulp down the lump in your throat and slap sakura's hands off as you sprint away.
his eyebrows furrow like right angles as he watches your figure run. what happens after was instinct. he chases after you, yelling your name like you wronged him.
passersby's heads start turning, most recognizing you and sakura, and few are from furin—asking themselves why the 1st grade captain is chasing after a girl who's face is equally as red as his'.
you know about sakura's athleticism. and you heard about the risa cat chase in your neighborhood. including the lengths he had to go through—scaling houses and jumping roofs like a superhero. there's a snowflake's chance in hell that he'll give up before he catches up to you.
you let out a frustrated sigh as you feel your energy depleting. you glance back to look how far back sakura w—...
where the fuck was he.
you didn't stop running. until you bump into something.
you'd stumble back if not for the hands that hold you still, shaking around both sides of your body.
sakura's face is still flushed when you meet it, now covered in a layer of sweat and a scowl that held no malice. his eyes scan your face for what could possibly be running through your head, faltering and softening when you end up staring at each other.
"y-you're so-!.. agh!!" steam comes out from his ears.
kaji ren
he was walking around the mall with you and his friends, his headphones on. he was focused on getting to the food court that he didn't notice the boys getting distracted with a new store that just opened.
you silently hype yourself up as you watch him walking alone and unaware. he feels a tap on his shoulder, removing one side of his headphone from his ear. then, he turns his head, eyes widening a second late as his lips come in contact with yours.
you positioned your head over his shoulder—to surprise him when he turned. you thought it'd be funny to see his reaction but you weren't really thinking that far ahead. the moment your lips part, his mouth still agape, you feel heat rush to your head and you didn't even realize that you were full on sprinting away. running and texting kusumi you left because 'something came up'.
you didn't even turn around to see if kaji had processed what happened.
he didn't.
he physically lags. he doesn't move. and barely breathes.
after a while, he blinks and slowly walks to the nearest wall. he takes his head phones off and slams his head against the cement.
he hears a yelp of his name from behind him, enomoto. and another yelp when he faces them and they see his face—red, flushed cheeks and a slight bruise forming on his forehead.
he doesn't see you for a while after that. he tries to meet up with you but you keep making excuses that you're sick, busy, or not home.
even without your presence, you haunt him. his lips tingle sometimes, like yours' ghost his'. and he catches himself spacing out so often, thinking about and repeating that experience, that his classmates get suspicious and worried.
he needs to see you. for an explanation. for his sanity.
one day, he just sees you around town during patrol and he rushes to you, grabbing your forearm before you notice him and run away again.
"a-are we really not going to talk about what happened??"
☾ A/N: inspired by satoru nii's note on kaji getting his headphones as a gift also i am simply down bad
“How come he never takes that shit off?” Sakura mutters, mostly to himself, pausing on the uneven sidewalk to adjust the weight on his back. The late afternoon sun casts long shadows over the bustling street, the chatter of vendors and the hum of passing bikes filling the air.
“Hmmm?” The granny—Chiyoko, as she’s always insisting he call her but he can never bring himself to—leans slightly to peer over his shoulder, her sharp eyes following his line of sight. Her gray hair flutters in the gentle breeze, tickling his cheek.
Across the narrow street, past the stalls piled high with fresh produce, ones Sakura knows Umemiya likes to frequent, Kaji and his vice-captains are strolling down the sidewalk in their direction. Kaji's got his hands buried deep in his pockets, mouth set in its usual stern expression, a lollipop dangling lazily from between his lips. His white headphones sit snugly over his ears, their metallic sheen catching the light. They're always spotless, Sakura notes, as if Kaji takes painstaking care of them.
“His headphones!" Sakura grumbles. "He’ll go deaf at this rate.”
“Ah," Chiyoko muses, her voice laced with amusement, "but wouldn’t you also treasure something so precious to you? Young love...so sweet."
Sakura’s brows knit together. “The hell you mean ‘young love’?”
The granny fully ignores him. "I remember back in my day-"
"Hold on, the fuck you mean- sorry, I mean-"
Before Sakura can keep gracing Chiyoko with his colorful vocabulary, something cuts him off.
“Rennn!”
The sound of hurried footsteps and the unmistakable brightness in the voice snaps Sakura’s attention to the source. His head whirls around, and he freezes.
A girl.
You.
You're a pretty thing, pleated uniform skirt hiked up just a tad bit too short for school regulations. It flutters around your thighs, exposing an expanse of skin that has Sakura blushing right down to his toes. He quickly tears his gaze away.
Instead, he watches, stunned, as Kaji slows his pace and reaches up, fingers curling to hook his headphones down to his neck. He stands there, hands dropping to his sides, palms open as if he's expecting something.
And then...the most inexplicable thing happens.
You launch yourself forward, into the notoriously bad-tempered second-year’s arms, your own arms coming up to wrap around his neck.
“Ren! Missed you so much!”
“Huh?” Sakura whips his head around to gawk at Chiyoko to make sure she’s seeing the same thing he is. “Huuuh?”
The granny on his back just beams, eyes crinkling, like this is something she's seen happen a thousand times.
Kaji barely reacts to the impact of you. He plants his feet, arms coming around your waist, steady and sure. If there's one thing Sakura has learned, it’s that the blonde is deceptively strong. From his angle, Sakura can see the faintest hint of color rise to Kaji's cheeks, a subtle shift masked by the tilt of his head.
A soft jangling sound captures Sakura’s attention and he zeros in on the charm dangling from your backpack. It looks vaguely familiar and he squints, trying to place it. Then it hits him- he’s seen it before, a matching charm clipped to Kaji’s rarely-used bag. The trinket is small and undeniably cutesy, in sharp contrast to Kaji's abrasive personality, which is what had drawn Sakura's attention to it in the first place.
“Oi,” Kaji snaps, tightening his hold around your waist, but his voice lacks the usual bite Sakura has come to associate the blonde with. “Be careful.”
You pout, playful and unabashed. “Aw, but I knew you’d catch me.”
“Still.” Kaji eyes you. His fingers brush against the hem of your skirt, tugging it down slightly. “And this—”
You cut him off with a practiced ease, plucking the lollipop from his mouth and popping it into yours.
"Oi!"
“Yeah, yeah,” you say breezily, leaning your head against his shoulder. “It’s too short, other guys will mess with me, blah blah blah. But I’m not worried, because my big bad boyfriend will take care of any problems, won’t he?”
Kaji's lips twitch as though he wants to argue, but nothing comes out. Instead, what looks like the faintest smile slips onto them, though it’s gone in the blink of an eye.
“Hi, Kusumi-chan, Enomoto-chan!” you lean back slightly in Kaji's arms, tilting your head so you can see the other boys who have been smirking at each other the entire time. Sensing their silent amusement, Kaji snaps his head around, fixing them with a pointed glare. Their expressions transform immediately into pictures of innocence and they greet you enthusiastically, clearly charmed by you.
“Good t’see ya as always,” Takeshi grins broadly. “Still keepin’ our captain on his toes?”
“Someone has to,” you quip, swirling the lollipop stick between your fingers before slipping it from your lips. Kaji’s gaze flickers downward, tracking the motion, lingering a beat too long on your lips.
You tug at the headphones around Kaji's neck. “Still taking good care of these, huh? Never takes them off, does he, Enomoto-chan?”
“Well,” Takeshi says with a teasing grin, “they’re special. Given by someone even more special.”
“Shut up,” Kaji mutters, ears faintly pink, though he doesn’t refute it. He's still staring down at your lips, though his gaze flickers back up to meet yours when you reach a hand up.
“Aw," you smile sweetly at him, brushing a finger through the bangs covering his forehead, "I'm glad you're still putting them to good use."
"Tch." Kaji's gaze darts away but returns to you almost just as quickly.
Sakura sputters, completely thrown off by the revelation that the reason behind the permanent fixture on Kaji Ren’s head...is you. Dumbfounded, he watches you continue to shower Kaji—the same boy he's seen coldly pummel opponents to a pulp with the harshest of scowls—with affection. But none of that brutality is visible now. Instead, Kaji holds you with an unexpected tenderness, as if you’re something delicate, something precious to him.
You let out a long, almost aggrieved sigh, and Sakura can’t help but wonder if you’re starting to tire of giving without getting anything in return from the blonde.
“Why're you so handsome?” you pout, sliding a finger down the bridge of Kaji's nose until it rests gently over his lips. “It’s just so unfair.”
Sakura chokes on his own spit.
Kaji doesn’t reply to that at all. Perhaps he doesn’t know how to. The tips of his ears are an unmistakeable flaming red now.
And then, as if on instinct, he leans down. The movement is quick, almost imperceptible. But it's enough signal for you apparently, because you close the gap by pressing your lips to his, winding your arms around his neck tighter and relaxing into his hold.
Sakura feels his brain grind to a complete halt.
“As I said,” Chiyoko hums behind him with a knowing smile. Her short legs swing happily against Sakura's sides. “Young love.”
𐔌 、sasuke ﾉ you find yourself paired with sasuke, whose sharingan flares uncontrollably around you 𓈒 ◟
cw: sexual tension ノ mutual pining ノ Sasuke being emotionally repressed but physically reactive ノexplicit content ノdark themes ϑϱ
He noticed you before you noticed him.
The new girl—quiet, polite, always scribbling notes like the world would fall apart if you missed a single word. You sat near the back, tucked into a desk that creaked when you shifted, always careful not to take up space. You apologized when someone bumped into you. Bowed your head when spoken to.
But Sasuke had seen you.
Not just with his eyes. Not just as one more civilian girl stuck in a shinobi class. No—his body reacted first. Subtle. Wrong.
The first time you were paired together for a sparring demo, he didn’t think much of it. He rolled his shoulders, stretched his fingers, prepared to disarm and pin you like he would anyone else.
You, standing across the mat, looked like you didn’t belong. Your stance was careful but timid, knees bent, hands curled in soft fists like you weren’t sure if you should hit him even if ordered to.
And still—still—
The moment your eyes met his—
Click.
Sharingan.
He felt it burn behind his lashes. The heat curled up his spine, sharp and visceral, like his blood recognized you before his brain did. His muscles tensed, his breath hitched. He blinked once, hard, trying to suppress the activation, but the red glow remained. Spinning. Steady.
“Sasuke,” Kakashi said from the sidelines, arms crossed, voice firm. “Stand down. Eyes off.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Sasuke muttered.
He hadn’t. That was the worst part.
You hadn’t even touched him yet.
And you—gods, your eyes were wide, full of worry, not fear. “Are you okay?” you whispered, stepping back instead of forward. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He blinked.
You were worried about him?
The match was called off early.
He didn’t say a word as you bowed and shuffled back to your seat, clutching your sleeves. He didn’t even look up when Naruto made some dumb comment about “getting turned on in a fight.” He just sat in stunned silence.
Because his Sharingan had never reacted like that before.
And the second time?
It was even worse.
You were assigned to sit next to him for a paired scroll analysis—nothing physical, nothing strenuous, just reading and translating seal logic from a captured scroll. You barely said a word. You just leaned in, close, your shoulder brushing his, your hair smelling faintly of chamomile.
And again—
Click.
That soft pulse of chakra behind his eyes. The pull of it.
He swore under his breath and pressed two fingers to his temple.
“You okay?” you asked again, voice smaller than last time. “You keep… looking at me like something’s wrong.”
He looked down at you—really looked—and his chest tightened.
Because no, nothing was wrong. Nothing had ever felt so vividly right.
Too right.
He was on edge the whole time, and you noticed. You chewed your lip as you worked. Tilted your head and asked if he needed a break. Every time you leaned in to whisper something, every time your hand brushed his arm, his Sharingan flared.
He lied and said it was fatigue.
But it wasn’t.
It was you.
Kakashi cornered him after class.
“Sasuke.”
“Hm.”
“You’re too reactive.”
“I know.”
“Your Sharingan’s not just reading danger. It’s reading something else.”
Sasuke said nothing.
Kakashi's gaze sharpened. “Be careful with her.”
Sasuke didn’t argue.
Because he had been. Every time. Every class, every spar, every moment he felt you getting closer. He kept his hands to himself. He didn't say the things he wanted to say—like how the way you curled your hands in your sleeves made him ache, or how he dreamed once of your voice in his ear and woke up panting, half-hard, eyes glowing red in the dark.
He didn’t understand it. Not fully.
But his body knew.
And when you looked up at him across the classroom the next morning, lip caught between your teeth, eyes hopeful and unsure, he had to look away before the glow gave him away again.
You started noticing things, too. How Sasuke always seemed too still around you. How his hands flexed when you got too close. How his eyes flashed that eerie, beautiful red even when there was no threat, no danger—just you handing him a brush, just you brushing his sleeve by accident in the hallway, just you whispering his name when you didn’t understand something.
It happened in the training field first. You’d been partnered for drills again. The kind where one person runs through a jutsu and the other disarms. Easy enough.
Except nothing was easy with him anymore.
Because the moment he caught your wrist—just your wrist—his eyes snapped red. And you felt it like a wave, like heat straight through your gut, like a pressure point between your legs that didn’t belong to any nerve textbook.
You gasped. His grip tightened. Then he let go like you’d burned him. He turned away, silent.
But you couldn’t stop looking.
“Why does it always happen around me?” you asked him, the words tumbling out, half breathless, half desperate. “Your Sharingan. It never turns off when we’re close.”
He looked at you then, like he’d been waiting for you to ask.
Like he wanted to answer.
“You’re the first person who’s ever made me feel like this,” he said.
And that’s how you ended up here.
In his apartment. On his bed. Stripped to your thighs, your skirt pushed up, your breath stuttering against his mouth while he laid you out beneath him like a secret he’d been aching to touch.
His eyes glowed red above you.
Spinning. Ravenous.
You moaned just looking at them.
“Does it scare you?” he murmured, his voice low, brushing against your lips.
You shook your head. “No.”
“I see everything with these,” he whispered. “Every twitch. Every tremble. Every time your body begs.”
You whimpered.
He kissed you hard.
Then he dragged his hands down your sides—calloused, reverent—until they slid under your thighs and pushed them apart. You trembled beneath him, naked from the waist down now, your panties discarded somewhere on the floor, your cunt slick and throbbing in the open air.
Sasuke looked down at you like he was starving.
The Sharingan spun faster.
“You’re so wet.”
You squeezed your eyes shut.
“No,” he snapped. “Look at me.”
You obeyed. Eyes wide. Cheeks burning. You were already breathing too fast.
“I want to see you when you cum,” he said, voice like gravel and thunder. “I need to.”
And then he thrust inside you.
You screamed—a raw, broken sound, pleasure burning hot and deep, your walls stretching around him with sweet, aching pressure. He filled you completely, his cock thick, hot, veined, dragging against every tender place inside you that you didn’t know existed.
He growled against your neck. “So tight. So perfect.”
You clung to him, shaking. “Sasuke—fuck—it’s too much—”
“No,” he rasped, dragging his hips back and slamming in again. “It’s not enough. I’ve waited too long.”
He set a rhythm, brutal and precise—his hips snapping forward, again and again, driving into you while you sobbed his name against his jaw. His hands gripped your thighs, pinning you open. You felt exposed. Owned. The Sharingan flared brighter, and he groaned like it was feeding off you, off your pleasure, off the way your body clenched around him.
“I can see every fucking twitch,” he groaned, pounding harder. “Every time you get close. You want to cum already?”
You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks.
“Then cum.”
You shattered.
Your body locked up, your cunt spasming around him so hard it knocked the breath from your lungs. You screamed his name again—“Sasuke!”—while your orgasm ripped through you, pulsing hot and endless.
But he didn’t stop.
He kept fucking you, harder now, chasing his own release.
“I’m gonna fill you up,” he snarled, voice raw. “Gonna cum so deep you feel it for days.”
“Do it,” you begged. “Please—please cum—”
His hips slammed forward one last time—and he groaned loud and low as he came, cock twitching deep in your soaked, spasming cunt, hot cum spilling inside you, leaking down your thighs. His Sharingan flickered, glowing blinding for a moment as he groaned your name like it was a prayer.
And then he collapsed over you, breathing ragged.
You were still shaking. Still full.
Still glowing from the inside out.
And when he finally lifted his head, his eyes were dark again.
But he was still watching you like he’d never seen anything more dangerous—or more precious—in his life.
xiao follows through with baizhu's advice and realises a lot more about his own feelings for you
⟡ part I: doctor, doctor!
⟡ content — xiao x gn!reader ; first love/confession ; perhaps a tad bit sad at the start but it gets better i swear!! ; zhongli and hu tao appearance ; xiao was oblivious in the first part, but he definitely isn't in this one hehe ; both of you are yearners for each other ; 4.3k words
⟡ a/n — finally finished!! i posted doctor, doctor in february and it's now may... omg i'm so sorry my lovelies for the wait 💔 i was a little sleepy when editing but anyway i really hope it's a good continuation :')
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In the past, Xiao would have never thought being bad at talking to be a disadvantage. He was once taught that it was a slower way of resolving things compared to the pointy end of his spear. Now, he silently wished he could speak with ease. Like the honeyed tales Zhongli could weave, or the precise lectures of Cloud Retainer. Xiao’s words were always blunt and rather clunky. And it didn’t help his speech if you were in his presence too.
Speak to Y/N about how they’ve been feeling, Baizhu had recommended. He had agreed so quickly in the moment because it sounded easy. Of course he could ask you, he had spoken to you dozens of times before. This time was no different, in fact, this was right in his repertoire: making sure you were in good health. Yet, with you standing beside him by the balcony at Wangshu Inn, his tongue became all tied up. Maybe it was the way the breeze toyed with your hair, your eyes glittered, or skin glowed in the morning light. The sight of you made all his words fizzle out.
Archons, what has come over me? he wondered.
You turned to face him. He quickly tore his gaze away.
“What did you want to talk about, Xiao?”
Your question was to be expected. He was the one who had mentioned he needed to speak to you about something (which was the exact reason the two of you were standing out here). Yet, it still left him somewhat flustered.
He kept his gaze on the vast landscape of Liyue—a brilliant canvas of yellows and greens. “I wanted to tell you that you needn’t hide secrets from me,” he said.
You cocked your head to the side. “Secrets?” he was met with the sound of your light chuckle. “Do you think I’m living a double life or something?”
Xiao glanced to his side at you. It was enough to see you wiggling your fingers at him as you continued to tease, “Maybe I’ve secretly been a Fatui agent this whole time.”
He shook his head. “What I mean to say is… you can speak to me about anything. I know well that emotions can be confusing, but I will always try to understand them.”
Though Xiao seldom followed along with your joking remarks, he always replied to them in his own dry manner that you enjoyed. However, this time there was a seriousness to his words that caught your attention. Emotions? Confusing? Your chest grew tight as you straightened your back.
“Xiao, I wouldn’t hide anything from you,” you answered, genuinely.
Sensing your own concern, he faced you fully. “I know, but something has been different recently.”
Shouldn’t such trust and closeness between people mean being able to talk to them about anything? Both the good and the bad? Xiao was prepared to shoulder any of that weight for you. He reached for your hand that wrapped the railing of the balcony, encasing your fingers beneath his.
“Tell me what has been troubling you, please.”
It came out as a plea. Small and anguished. You had never heard Xiao sound like this before. And it was because of you.
There was only one thing you had been keeping from him. Something (or someone) that had been on your mind for a longer time that you cared to admit.
“Nothing’s been wrong,” you still denied, ignoring the open warmth that radiated from his hand into yours. A silent invitation from him to you.
“I won’t accept that,” he responded gruffly. “It is bad to keep your emotions… bottled up.”
Xiao echoed the metaphor Baizhu used when they met. The mortal expression had sounded unusual when he first heard it, but now he understood—corking up emotions for too long can lead to spoiling.
“When you’re with me, you appear tense. If I am the one causing your trouble—”
“No!” you exclaimed, leaning in towards him. “W-well, yes, maybe. I-it’s complicated.”
What am I doing!? you thought. His touch was too hot. You pulled your hand back, fidgeting with your fingers, not knowing what else to do in your embarrassment. If Xiao had been offended, there was no hint of it on his face, only worry as he let his empty hand fall to his side.
“Complicated? If there is a reason why, I will listen.”
You tilted your head upwards, staring off into the endless blue above, as if calling upon the Heavenly Principles themselves to give you strength and confidence.
You exhaled a breath.
This was it. The time to confess and be done with it.
“Xiao, I like you.”
The words you spoke felt foreign on your tongue. To be fair, you never thought they would ever come to light.
Every miniscule sound became too loud in the silence between you two. Your thrumming heart in your ears. The chatter of people echoing from below. The wind rustling through the golden leaves above.
Anticipating a greater reaction, you were surprised to see Xiao’s face remained neutral. Only a slight frow in his brows.
“I like you as well...” he said, carefully though obviously confused.
“No, no,” you shook your head, sighing deeply, “for me, it’s in a different way. I like you as more than just friends.”
At your clarification of the distinction, Xiao’s eyes widened.
He had spent enough time observing people to know of romantic affiliations. Though, he never realised it could be directed at himself. Strangely, something within him stirred hearing you. A tether. A want. However, it seemed locked away in an unfamiliar space of his heart, collecting dust. Whether he intentionally cast such desires aside himself long ago, he could not say. Reciprocate, whatever inside him seemed to call out. But his old habits stifled such new feelings, knowing the hardship of entwining yourself too closely with others. His own karmic debt tainting all those who came near.
You saw the change in his reaction—knowing that he understood what you meant now—and hurried before he could say anything else.
“I can’t pinpoint when it started, but I know I’ve liked you for a long time, and that’s the reason I’ve been so jittery lately.”
You recalled his strong grip when he caught you from falling and his words of concern in your home accompanied by his gentle touch. You decided not to divulge too much of the private thoughts you had in those moments.
For all your previous hesitations, the words now seemed to uncork and flow freely out of you. “And I know people may see you as abrasive or unfriendly, but you have shown me just how caring you are so, so many times and every time I can’t help but like you more and more.”
Xiao remained motionless, processing everything. He was locked with parted lips and wide eyes staring into your avoidant gaze. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to reply to you. He just didn’t know how. The tether in his heart begged him to speak, but his lips might as well have been glued together.
“Please don’t answer me yet,” you spluttered. “I know what you’re going to respond with…”
There was a sad finality in your tone that struck him. You knew Xiao did not like you in the same way. He had expressed before his affections towards you as only friends. All the little gestures he did, no matter how fluttering, could not be interpreted as anything else, you believed.
You looked at him properly for the first time since your confession. “I want some time to prepare myself before I hear from you. Is that okay?”
Xiao nodded, finding the strength to move his body when his mouth failed him. “I-I would like some time to think, as well,” was all he could reply, his voice ragged.
He also needed to sort through his own tangled mess of thoughts. Figure out whatever in Celestia he was feeling inside. Emotions truly were confusing.
You gave a small smile. Meant to be a sign of reassurance for him that you were not so troubled anymore, but the wobbled corners of your lips perhaps betrayed that. “Alright, we’ll speak soon.”
You turned away from the balcony’s edge. Xiao watched as your figure disappeared down the steps and out of his sight.
One question had been answered, but it had left many, many more for him to understand.
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The consultant of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour had experienced much of life (and had an eclectic set of memories to show for it). He did not shy away from unknowns as they would eventually become facts to him through reading a scroll passed down through a family’s generations, listening to the slightly drunken tales of a wizened sailor, or any other method of storytelling that he had the honour of encountering. And because of his wealth of knowledge, Xiao decided to meet with him.
Zhongli was inside Funeral Parlour. Not at the front desk, which the Ferrylady was currently standing behind, sorting through a ledger, but to the side in a waiting area. There were shelves filled with all manner of books and oddities, and comfortable seats for clients who generally needed to seek relief. Zhongli was drawing a finger against the spines of each book, wondering whether the collection needed updating, when the door to the Parlour creaked opened.
“Xiao! It’s lovely to see you,” Zhongli welcomed, surprise filling his face.
Xiao closed the door behind him gently, his eyes landing on Zhongli by the shelves. Recognising who the adeptus was, the Ferrylady simply nodded in acknowledgement, leaving the pair to catch up.
“Had I expected you, I would have provided more fitting refreshments,” Zhongli commented. “Here. Have some tea, if you wish.”
Xiao nodded in thanks as he was poured a cup of jasmine tea. He waited for Zhongli to be seated down first before he followed.
It had never been difficult for Zhongli to read Xiao. The distracted gaze, shoulders somewhat bowed, hands clasped in his lap. It was like Xiao was just another book on the Funeral Parlour’s shelves. Zhongli raised the cup of tea to his mouth, peering at the young adeptus from the rim before taking a sip.
“You seem... troubled. Is something the matter?”
Xiao watched the steam rise lazily from his teacup. Of course, Zhongli could easily pinpoint what was happening with him. Lingering emotions from the conversation Xiao had with you three days before bubbled up. It still felt surreal to him that it all happened.
“Yes, there has been something troublesome,” he admitted. “Y/N... told me that they liked me.”
Zhongli stilled his movements. You were no stranger to him. Naturally, he knew of many residents in Liyue, and he had also assisted you with his expertise in the past for commissions with the Guild. Now, he would never go so far as to say spying, but he also wouldn’t deny that he kept a special eye on you. Your close relationship with the young adeptus was something he was pleased to see blossom. Which was why it was confusing to see Xiao so unsettled in telling him the news of your confession.
Zhongli gave a comforting smile, placing his cup back on the table. “Y/N has confessed to you? I scarcely believe that that would be troublesome, but rather exciting.”
Xiao could only give a grunt in response.
Detecting this internal conflict, Zhongli lowered his voice, “Well, how do you feel about them?”
“I-I don’t know, which is the root of my problem.” A frustrated sigh escaped the yaksha. His mind was in all manner of disarray. “How do you know if your feelings for someone are different?”
Your words echoed in his head—as more than just friends.
“By different, are you perhaps referring to love?”
Zhongli’s pointed emphasis on the final word made Xiao redden. Again, he was not unfamiliar with the idea of romance. He had seen it in the streets of Liyue Harbour, from the young, sheepish sweethearts to the old, contented couples. Xiao had believed himself unworthy of it. But now, hearing the word spoken aloud, that wanting tether within him pulled again.
At Xiao’s sudden shyness at love being brought up, Zhongli had to stifle a chuckle. Still so new to the world, he thought.
“You know I cannot speak for your feelings, Xiao, but judging from how you came to me, it does seem there is more to your affections than what you first believed,” he observed.
Xiao ruffled his hair with his gloved hand. Zhongli was right. There was something more with you. There always had been.
“At rest, I have always sensed my karmic debt,” Xiao said. “But, since meeting them, the pain has lessened. I feel peaceful.”
The endurer of eons knowing peace. It felt foolish for Xiao to say, but it was the truth. He had never known safety and warmth to be with another person until you. His past had locked away these comforts from him, but the dust collected from forgotten emotions now seemed to blow away.
“Is this truly...” the word choked up in his throat. Zhongli had said it so easily before (even with the tiniest hint of amusement), but the word had not yet found its rightful place in his vocabulary yet.
“Why must this be so difficult...” Xiao instead groaned.
Zhongli gazed fondly at the young adeptus. “It is your first time. Do not be so harsh on yourself.”
He began to muse aloud. Xiao watched on, letting the sentences Zhongli weaved take hold. “Love enters each of our lives in many ways. Someone’s presence can come swinging like a sledgehammer, unexpectedly knocking us off our feet.”
With a knowing smile, Zhongli continued, “Or... it can be more subtle, like a pebble dropped into a still pool of water, rippling the surface from the centre outward.”
Xiao looked down at his filled cup of tea. Ripples. That was exactly it. Unassuming how you entered his life, and how impactful your stay had been. Finally, he took a sip of his tea, finding it less bitter than he would usually taste.
“Thank you for your guidance, as always.”
Zhongli laughed, “You needn’t be so formal, Xiao. I’m pleased you sought me out. Though, I do hope you come visit me again with some good news.”
Xiao nodded, albeit bashfully.
The old companions continued with the conversation. Largely, Zhongli tried to get Xiao to speak more about you. He knew full well that chance to be young and hopeless in love had been robbed from Xiao for centuries. So, with each short response Xiao gave about you between stutters, the redness never leaving his face, Zhongli was left more than satisfied.
After a short while, Xiao said goodbye, going back out to fulfil his duties with a newfound lightness. As he closed the door behind him, a shrill voice exclaimed from the stairs leading to the second floor of the Funeral Parlor.
“Was that the Conqueror of Demons?!”
Hu Tao had her hands on her hips, looking expectantly at her consultant.
“It was. You’ve just missed him, unfortunately,” Zhongli replied, leaning back in his chair.
The funeral director hurried down the steps, standing directly in front of his seat. “Oh, come on, you could have totally interrupted my meeting to have me say a quick hello!”
Zhongli gave a disagreeing hum. “We both know that you don’t enjoy funeral business being interrupted.”
Hu Tao puckered her lips and blew air out, creating a trill sound. Of course, Mr Zhongli was correct in saying that, but she was just making a joke! She slipped in the chair Xiao was just in, crossing her legs.
“So, why did Xiao swing by anyway?” she then gasped, “Is there new clientele?”
Zhongli shook his head, a smile playing at his lips.
“I’m not sure you would believe me if I told you.”
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You had always left the invitation open for Xiao to visit your home if he wished for a change of scenery. Though Wangshu Inn was gorgeous (and you would do anything to wake up to a view like that every day) there was still some charm to the quaint housing on the outskirts of the Harbour that you knew he would enjoy. All you asked for is that he did not teleport directly into your house unless you were in some peril, which he would know when his named was called. For every other time, however, he would have to knock before he could come in.
There was no peril here, but you did need to see him. Desperately. It had been three days, and your insides had stopped roiling since confessing. You were only left with preparedness now at hearing his answer. No matter how hard you tried to suppress it, there was a small part of you that hoped. Hoped Xiao might have a sudden change in his affections and realise he saw you as more than his friend.
You closed your eyes and steadied yourself.
You opened your mouth, beginning to say his name—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sudden noise pulled your focus away.
You weren’t expecting anyone at this time. Perhaps it was your elderly neighbour passing over some food she made, or a salesman looking to find customers for his wares. Frowning in the direction of your front door, you walked over and opened it ajar, just enough so you could see who was standing there.
You hadn’t even said his name, yet he knew he needed to come.
Familiar dark-greenish hair framing the amber eyes of a once harsh gaze, now softened since the day he met you. His chest puffed up and down, as if he had just run from somewhere. He looked at you like your parting had been years and not just a handful of days.
Your hand slipped from the handle, letting the door swing open fully.
“Xiao?” his name fell from your lips.
This was a very rare occasion where Xiao hadn’t thought things out fully before executing a plan. All he knew was that he needed to see you as soon as his meeting with Zhongli concluded.
“Hello,” he swallowed, composing himself. “I would have come sooner, but you instructed that I do not use my powers—”
“I know, unless I’m in grave danger,” you finished. “Thank you for knocking.”
His politeness despite everything brought a small laugh from you as you spoke. It was a moment of your liveliness that Xiao took to like a moth to a flame, fluttering with desire.
You stood aside, allowing him to enter. The last time he was here he was convinced that you were ill and, quite innocently, wanted to nurse you to good health. Now, he knew the true reason for those symptoms and had come to an understanding of his own.
His boots tapped against the wooden floorboards of your home, and he came to a stop in front of you. Neither of you wanted to sit down, too filled with mirrored jumble of anxiety and hope.
“I have my answer,” he said.
He had never known his nerves to be this weak until now. His palms were sweaty beneath the fabric of his gloves, and his breath constricted. He can’t have imagined the amount of courage it took for you to have done the same thing.
“Alright,” you folded your arms across your chest to bury your sinking heart. Even in matters like this, Xiao still got straight to the point. “I’m ready to hear it.”
Xiao flexed his hands at his side, trying to ground himself.
Although he could never paint flowery words with his speech, there was one thing he could always rely on—his bluntness.
“I-I love you.”
...
Oh.
This certainly had to be a dream.
A dream where the man you like just said that he loves you.
“I love you,” he repeated, his voice raw and gravelly.
Did he say it in a strange way? Xiao silently cursed himself looking at how motionless you were, hands falling to your side. He knew he should have practiced it aloud beforehand.
“Was that... wrong of me to say?”
Your head spun. Delirious laughter almost spilled from you.
What he had just said was the furthest from wrong. Any small hope that remained in you unfurled and bloomed brilliantly.
"This... isn’t a dream, right?” you whispered.
Xiao moved closer.
“No, it isn’t.”
This had to be real, otherwise, why did his hand feel so warm as it brushed against yours? His fingers gently took your hand. It was the only proof he could offer that this wasn’t a dream. That he was here, and his words were true.
“You love me? Really?” you had to confirm again.
“I do.” He did not waver in his answer, “I do love you. I should have realised it sooner.”
Your breath caught in your throat. The urge to cry became more tempting each time Xiao repeated that he was in love with you.
“I-I was sure you weren’t going to feel the same way,” you sniffed.
His chest seized up hearing your voice shake.
He recalled a fleeting memory. Resting beneath a shaded tree, dappled light cast across his face as conversation drifted through the air. The commotion from four others whose voices he could never forget for as long as he lived. They were speaking about falling in love once the war was over, how it would feel like when love found them. Peace in these lands must be achieved first, one had said. To which one commented what a buzzkill that was, which was followed by laughter from the others. Perhaps Xiao should have listened more closely to learn something then, rather than closing his eyes, letting the sound lull him.
“I... have little experience or knowledge of these things. These distinctions are quite new to me.” Xiao held your hand tighter. His pale cheeks dusted with pink. “Speaking with someone else helped me understand what my feelings for you meant.”
He was so close once again. Yet, you didn’t freeze up like before, afraid of revealing your hidden affections. Instead, you melted into his touch, adjusting your grip to feel more of him. There was nothing to hide between the two of you anymore.
“I’m sorry for making you uneasy for so long,” he quietly added.
“You don’t have to apologise, I’m not angry at all.”
Relief washed over him. There was even a smile on your face. Bright and warm and enveloping him like the morning sun. Playfully, you swung his arms back and forth.
“In fact, I’m really, really happy right now,” a chuckle accompanied your words.
Xiao’s lips curved into a smile too seeing you in higher spirits. “I am glad. To be honest, I feel much... lighter.”
Weightless, even. The taut desire he felt three days ago when you confessed had eased. He had gotten the courage to tug and pull on that tether until he was standing here with you in his arms.
“I think I have loved you for a long time but never believed myself to be worthy of it. You are too good natured and kind, and if something happened to you because of me,” he closed his eyes, unable to even stand the very idea, “I wouldn’t forgive myself.”
You had never once thought Xiao could hurt you. Even in the beginning when you met, though he was coarse as gravel, he always remained attentive. There was much of his past that left painful memories and only fed him sorrow and doubt. Despite it all, however, he still had a soft heart.
You reached out a hand, grazing your fingertips against his cheek.
“Xiao…”
His eyes fluttered open hearing his name being called so sweetly under your hushed breath.
“Can I hug you?” you asked. “Usually this is the part where people would hug each other.”
He nodded, burning to hold you as well. You encircled your arms around his chest, entwining your fingers behind his back. He wrapped his own hands at your waist and pulled you in, your body flush with his, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. Your breath tickled Xiao’s ear as you tucked your chin by his shoulder. Both of your heartbeats drummed with ineffable tenderness. It almost dazed him how much content swelled inside. He knew now why so many couples liked to hug.
Xiao was the first to lean back to look at you again. You were struck by this intensity of his eyes, seemingly lost with desire. Before you could think of anything else, your chin was tilted upwards.
Then, his lips were on yours.
You didn’t think Xiao could surprise you twice in such a short time.
The kiss was soft, like a falling petal brushing against skin. How much time had passed? Seconds, minutes, hours? You couldn’t tell. All you could focus on was the warmth from his lips and the shiver that it caused up your spine. This time, you were the first to pull away. Your cheeks were hotter than probably any of the springs in Natlan.
“How did you—” you stuttered.
Xiao cleared his throat. The spell he was just under seeming to disappear as he blinked away from your gaze, his blush intensifying. “I’ve seen many couples in the city do it. I-It just felt right to do.”
Shyly, he added, “Was that alright?”
He had a habit of second guessing himself when it came to his affections. Luckily, you were someone who was more than happy to give reassurance.
“It was more than okay,” you beamed. “It was perfect.”
You both stayed like this a moment longer, your hands around his back and his on your waist. Xiao spoke of meeting with Baizhu and Zhongli, which displayed a commitment to you that was far too endearing for your heart to handle.
There would be good news indeed when the time came to tell your companions what happened.
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