Work Text:
You knocked at the Kuchiki clan gate, taking a deep breath in and steeling yourself for the comments you knew were going to be coming from the elders of the clan. The servant who opened the gate looked you up and down, appraising whether you belonged there or if they should send you away.
“I was told to show this,” you muttered, pulling his scarf out of your bag. “Byakuya requested that I bring this back to him when he returned from his most recent mission. He was concerned that it…,” you paused, noticing the look of concern mixed with awe on the servant’s face.
They subtly motioned for you to follow them and quickly turned, walking deeper into the mansion. You shoved the scarf back into your bag, following the servant’s quick step through the labyrinthine mansion. You finally made it to the back and stepped outside on the path to the garden. The servant disappeared back into the mansion, leaving you alone in the quiet breeze with the sweet smell of cherry blossoms swirling around you. You heard voices speaking further in the garden, including the deep timbre of Byakuya’s voice seeming to invite you to come closer.
You took a deep breath, straightened your shoulders and lifted your head, and started walking towards the voices. The elders seemed annoyed with Byakuya, which was unsurprising. They always seemed annoyed with him, despite his position as clan head. You knew you weren’t a noble, so they were probably annoyed with him about bringing in “another one of those.” As you drew closer, you saw that he was sitting on a bench underneath some of the trees, seeming to completely ignore the elders. You smirked at the thought that he was anything less than a revolutionary. He followed the rules to the exact letter, nothing more nothing less, silently and carefully subverting the “order” that had been built.
You tried to sneak around the elders to avoid their comments but he saw your movements and stood. The conversation quieted as you walked over to the group, their glares battering against your defenses, but his grey and stormy eyes were the only ones that you were acknowledging. You pulled his scarf out of your bag, and gently folded and caressed it, your eyes watching the corners of his mouth quirk into a smile and the corners of his eyes soften.
“We’re done with the clan debrief and updates,” Byakuya abruptly announced to the group surrounding him. They shuffled off, even though there were sighs and grumblings. They glared at you while they stepped away and tottered back to the mansion and clan hall.
You were silent until you saw and heard the last one actually enter the clan hall and you two were alone. “Must have been real interesting,” you teased, quirking your mouth up into a smile. You took a step closer to him as he grunted, rolled his eyes, and sat back down on the bench. He motioned for you to come and sit next to him. You shook your head and pointed at the scarf that hung around his neck. “So, Byakuya. What’s that and what am I holding?,” you questioned, rubbing the soft silk between your fingers.
He sighed and rolled his eyes at you. “They’re both scarves.”
You couldn’t help but giggle at his answer. “You know exactly what I mean, Byakuya. I thought you wanted me to hold onto this for you.”
His eyes slowly wandered up and down your body, appraising and assessing. “I do,” he said simply.
It was your turn to sigh, reaching for the bridge of your nose. “You came and said you wanted to have me hold this for you before your next mission. I thought….,” you paused, thinking carefully. “I thought you wanted me to return it, but you never said that you wanted it back, did you?”
His face was graced by a gentle smile at your realization. “I don’t believe I ever said that, no.” He motioned again for you to sit next to him. You moved towards the bench and sat down, tracing the weave of the scarf between your fingers. His gloved hands gently stilled your busy fingers, gathering the soft material between his fingers. You looked at his face, his breath playing along your cheeks. Your breath hitched in your throat watching his eyes trace and memorize the lines and angles of your body.
He lifted the scarf from your hands and gently wrapped and draped it around your shoulders. His hands brushed against your soft skin as you leaned into his warmth and shivered when they were removed. The callouses that only you got to touch lifted your chin, his lips seeking yours, tracing your body with his hands.
His breath was hot on your lps, pulling away to rest his forehead on yours. “You are a part of my only pride. You should be seen as such, no matter what others may say,” he whispered, his words striking your heart.
Your lashes fluttered, as you ran your fingers across the scarf materials, first yours, then his. Your fingers wandered to his hair, untangling the few small knots that had formed from the breeze as you tried to formulate your thoughts, grounding yourself to this place and time. “I’m…,” you faltered, processing what he said.
He softly traced your lips with his finger, his lips finding yours over and over again, cutting your racing thoughts short. “You’re mine. Wear this with pride.”