boxer sukuna ryomen accompanies you to an event at the gallery you work at and you get separated from him — talk to some of the artists attending as he talks to one of your coworkers.
when he sees you laughing at another man’s joke (and said man touches your shoulder, though you shy away), he kind of sees red — sips on the champagne that was handed to him and almost breaks the delicate glass with his firm grip. knows it’s time to get to your side.
he asks your coworker to excuse him and he walks to you, wraps an arm around your waist and brings you in close, leans down to press a kiss to your head.
“hey, baby.”
you immediately brighten up in his presence and stand on your tippy toes to give his jaw a kiss before you introduce him to the group of painters you’re talking to.
he glares down at the one who made you laugh and the guy has to look away.
selfishly, he wants all of your laughter and smiles.
– summary: You may be in charge of keeping his life in order, but that comes at the expense of being the bear he pokes for entertainment.
a/n: im back! with another series! im always apologizing for my absence but i mean it this time. im in my last semester of college so its been hectic, but i drop this for everyone's consumption. hope you all enjoy! big thanks to my betas, i love yall.
(w.c.: 29.7k)
The office is empty by the time 4:30 PM rolls around.
It’s not at all a surprise, it’s an outcome Kuroo pushes for, especially on a Friday. A happy reminder of his influence on the office. No one wants to stay late working on the day before the weekend, so as soon as the hand on the clock hits the afternoon mark, Kuroo is already pushing his staff members to take flight and get an early start on the weekend. Beaming from ear to ear when they listen.
A generous boss, he thinks he is. An assumption largely corroborated by a happy and hardworking staff— one of the efficient in the company, or so the yearly evaluation says. Reckless, it might be, but the file of the past years’ annual reviews praising his department and leadership in his drawer would beg to differ.
(You often remark that it’s going to bite him in the butt one day, but he just brushes you off with a wave of his hand.
“Can’t have an efficient staff if they’re too tired to work,” He says and you roll your eyes, but you don't argue further. He rejoices.)
It’s five o’clock the next time Kuroo looks up from the file of player contracts on his desk to the clock on his wall. The actual time people are supposed to leave work.
With no domestic obligations he usually ends up staying in the office later than is probably necessary, staying until seven, eight, sometimes ten o’clock at night. He never really minds doing so— it is his job, after all, to run a whole division of a company and it’s not like he’s got anyone at home waiting for him. Considering the fact that you are almost always there to help him pass the time, he finds that he doesn’t mind late nights at the office at all. In fact, he always looks forward to them.
Half the time you’re more inclined to inform him of the office gossip than the office budgeting, but work always manages to get done anyway. One way or another.
But you left early today. Or at least, he thinks you did, considering he went up to your desk at the front of the office for an update on an upcoming event only to find it empty. A bit odd that you had taken off without informing him as you always do, not even a note left behind, but it’s a little too late to question it.
So, he’s alone in the office for the first time in a while.
Being the assistant of the director of a national corporation demands all of your attention at all hours of the day, especially because he is demanded at all hours of the day. Awake when he is, on his heels when he’s rushing out the door, cup of coffee in hand and answering his questions before he even gets the chance to ask them.
You’re the best assistant he’s ever had and he’s had many.
Life is just easier with you in it (because, coincidentally, you’re managing his life). And while he shudders to try and remember the last time you weren’t right beside him, he does remember what it felt like.
Horrible. Unorganized. Filled with stress. Something to avoid at all costs.
Logic reminds him that you're his employee first— that you have a life and you need to live it outside of him and this job. But with his job consuming his life and schedule daily, he can’t help but indulge selfishly on the aspects of humanity that manage to weasel their way towards him, namely, you. He can’t help but want to selfishly hog you and your time because somewhere along the way in this workplace arrangement where your responsibilities consisted of answering his emails, and scheduling his doctor’s appointments, and helping him rehearse business pitches, and going clothes shopping with him, a friendship was forged.
He won’t ever admit it. In fact, he’ll do the exact opposite and will instead insist that you’re the biggest nuisance to ever exist. To which you pointedly and habitually will remind him that he made you that way. That you were kind and lovely and the best person ever, until you met him.
And then you both will laugh and he’ll ask if you’ve had lunch yet. (And the little selfish part of his brain that bubbles and toils will beam with happiness and grow like a tumor, spreading its rotten roots of possession because you don’t seem to mind it all that much.)
Kuroo gets up from his desk with a sigh at the starting bouts of loneliness, in desperate need of a distraction lest he ruminate too intently on the fact that he may or may not be a little lost without his precious assistant by his side.
Eyeing the mug on his desk, the one you got him for his birthday that says in bright red letters ‘I Have the Best Assistant Ever’, he decides that coffee is the solution.
The break room is placed down the hallway, on the opposite side of his office. It’s not a long walk but it’s one that passes by your desk at the front of the building to get there. He’s found that on more than one occasion, people tend to forget that they're on their way there in favor of stopping by to talk to you. He always snorts when he sees it, unbelieving of how magnetic you seem to be in the office. Drawing people in all the time, from this department and others. He has to shoo them away like flies, reminding them that they have jobs to do.
Kuroo looks towards your desk now when he passes by on instinct. It's second nature at this point, having done it so many times that it just happens. And he knows it’s going to be empty, he just can’t help it. Until he realizes, it isn’t empty.
He stops in his tracks and looks again.
It’s you. With your back to him— your exposed back. Now, Kuroo is not one to sexualize the parts of a woman that are integral to her functioning: shoulders, hands, back, ankles, so on. It’s just the fact that he’s seeing all of it. For the first time.
At work.
You’re wearing a dress. One that you were not wearing earlier today because Kuroo would have noticed that. It’s red— not bright red like his high school uniforms used to be, but a shade darker. Deep, yet soft. Satin, too, billowing around your bottom half in a loose yet form fitting way, cascading down toward the floor and would be touching it were it not for the heels on your feet. Thin straps on your bare shoulders and a plunging back.
It is quite the dress.
“You’re here.” He says dumbly, noting briefly that his throat has gone dry all of a sudden. You turn in your place, away from the task of packing up your items and face him with a smile, revealing the front of your too-fancy-for-the-office ensemble.
It’s a very pretty dress.
He realizes rather inappropriately that his eyes are trailing down the length of your figure and quickly tears his gaze away, trying to find something else to look at— anything else. Your face, that’s a good place right? Safe and neutral.
Your lips are sparkling.
Literally. There are sparkles on your lips.
“I thought you left early,” He blurts out and his palms are starting to sweat around the mug. He wipes them down the front of his pants.
“I would’ve told you if I was,” You snort with a pop of your hip, as if that was the stupidest thing he could have thought. And, yeah it was. A lot of things are stupid— he is stupid. But not that dress. God, it looks good on you.
Taking a couple of steps closer to you, he finds that not only are your lips sparkling with a kind of glitter gloss, but you’ve got mascara on and a light neutral eyeshadow. It’s not that you come into work like a slob, it’s just… he’s never seen you so done up.
He gestures a finger up and down, pointing at the attire. "What's with the, uh... what's with the get up?"
You look down at your body, then back up to him, mirroring the confusion that contorts his features, "What? The dress?"
"Yeah."
"I can't look nice?" You cross your arms over your chest, and Kuroo rolls his eyes. He steps towards you, placing his mug on the ledge of your cubicle walls and leans against it. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets as he stands before you, giving you a deadpan stare.
"You always look nice. This is a different kind of nice."
"Oh, well, thank you." You say, pleasantly surprised. Shocked to finally get a compliment from your boss and not the snarky teases that you’re so used to.
"You got a date?"
Were it anyone else, you would indulge in the niceties of well-mannered interest and answer the question. But this is Kuroo— the man you’ve been working for for years, who never fails to take the chance to tease you relentlessly and fill your days with endless snark and ill-timed assignments. You may be in charge of keeping his life in order, but that comes at the expense of being the bear he pokes for entertainment.
You know the beginnings of his teasings to a tee; You can see the telltale signs of it swirl in the irises of his amber eyes. The mischievous side of Kuroo Tetsurou has put you in a precarious situation one too many times. You won’t let him ruin your date, not again.
With a narrowing of your eyes, you turn back to the contents of your purse, putting your notepads and pens to the side and any other item that lay strewn over your desk in their respective place, "I'm not sure that's any of your business."
"Where's he taking you?" He pesters.
"Again, not any of your business."
“You realize that I’m your boss, right? I control your paycheck.”
“Oh please,” You grumble at him, “I give you a paper to sign and you don’t even ask what it is. I practically control who gets paid around here.”
He places a hand against his chest, wounded, “A lot of thought goes into my signature.”
You roll your head towards him, giving him a stare of exasperation, “I can forge it.”
“That seems like more of a commentary about your character than mine.”
“The last time I told you about my date, you crashed it.” You zip up your purse with finality and it seems like the proof is in the pudding.
“So, you do have a date?’ He grins like the cat who’s eaten the canary.
“Kuroo-san.” You say sternly and he notes the irony in the fact that you’ve used his formal title and yet, he’s getting scolded.
“Listen, in my defense—”
“Tetsurou.” Oh, first name now. Must be serious.
“I told you,” He defends, with his hands raised in surrender “I just happened to be there.”
You roll your eyes, “And you ‘just so happened’ to tell him that I cheat on men and steal their money while I was in the bathroom?”
“Not my fault he couldn’t take a joke! Do you really want to date someone without a sense of humor? You would be miserable.” Kuroo sputters with a laugh.
Your face remains cold in its seriousness, staring at him as a parent would towards their misbehaving child, “He never called me back.”
Kuroo scoffs with a wave of his hand. “You didn’t even like him that much. I could see it on your face.”
You pause with a narrowing of your eyes, before a knowing smile breaks the fragments of the icy cold, “Were you watching me the whole night?”
Yes. “What? No!”
He remembers the exact moment when he saw you that night. A dress, not as nice as this red one, but still very lovely.
“Oh my god, you were!” You exclaim, punching the arm that was leaning on the walls of your desk and he takes it, shaking his head furiously.
“You looked like you were on the brink of death! I did you a favor.”
You hold an accusing finger to him, dazzling lips parting to smile mischievously, “That's not the point and you know it.”
In the desperate need to change the subject, he smacks your finger away and quickly interjects, "Okay, fine. Just, tell me this one isn't taking you to Aroma Fresca tonight."
The way he says it makes it sound like an inside joke with Aroma Fresca being the butt of it. And from the way he looks at you, it’s obvious that he expects it to be a joke that you understand, maybe even laugh at. But… the longer he stares at you, with his wide smile slowly starting to fade at the lack of recognition in your eyes and the shock that takes its place, the more he realizes that you don’t get what he means. The quicker he realizes—
The tables turn, with your teasing smile dropping quickly and replaced instead with startled confusion as you meekly ask, "W-what's wrong with Aroma Fresca?"
Kuroo’s own face drains and he groans, "Oh God, is he taking you to Aroma Fresca?”
"What's wrong with Aroma Fresca!?" You repeat with more emphasis and Kuroo buries his head in his hands.
Voice muffled, he says. “Who the hell are you going on a date with?”
“What’s wrong with Aroma Fresca?!” You all but yell.
Raising his face from his cupped hands, he grasps a tuft of his already messy and tousled hair in exasperation, and explains with very little amusement, "That's where cheating stock brokers take their unassuming playthings since it’s just fancy enough to seem like an actual date, but not too expensive that their wives would notice something’s wrong when they get the bank statement.”
He clears his throat, truly trying to ignore the fact that you’re looking at him as though he’s murdered a puppy, and tacks on with as much consideration as he can, “Plus, it’s far away from home but close enough to work to pass off as a ‘work date’ instead of a romantic one if they get caught.”
He has a front row seat to the cogs turning in your head, and from the way that it takes your brain a second to put the pieces together and a fleeting look of doubt to cross over your face, he knows he’s right in assuming what kind of a guy you’re going on a date with.
A shitty one who definitely does not deserve to see that dress.
Still, the quality of stubbornness that serves you so well in the workplace yet drives Kuroo up the wall rears its head and you refute him with enough sass, "And how would you know that?"
He merely raises an eyebrow and it’s your turn to feel dumb for asking such a stupid question.
Of course Kuroo would know. He doesn’t run in those circles, but everyone of his status does, meaning he learns it all through proxy. Seemingly, every high associate that works for the JVA believes that Kuroo Tetsurou is the most trusting individual to confide your interdepartmental affairs to. And luckily enough for you, Kuroo Tetsurou believes that you are the most trusting individual to confide the gossip to, so really, you can’t complain. It makes for some great lunch conversations between the two of you.
So, logically, it makes sense that he would know everything about this. Doesn’t mean you have to accept it.
Plowing forward, you reason, "And so what if someone was taking me there? Statistically speaking, not every person who goes there is a cheater. You don't even know him, how would you know he's cheating? Or even married, might I add."
Bracing his elbows on the wall of your cubicle, he leans in closer to you, as if that would elevate the seriousness of his conviction. Leveling the distance of height between you two in order to make you see what he’s saying. And because you don’t move away, instead allowing him to make his point known in the close proximity of you two, he thinks he has a chance of convincing you.
"Because I've been to that place and have seen scum of the earth in action. Trust me, nothing good happens at Aroma Fresca. Especially not their arrosto di manzo."
Your eyes dart across the expanse of his face in the way you always do in trying to gauge whether he’s teasing or not. Maybe that should be a clue that he should really stop giving you a run for your money, because here he is, trying to do a good deed and you’re debating on whether or not to believe him.
The line of reality blurs for you, the same as the work relationship of boss and secretary has.
With doe eyes of sweet tenderness, the kind of look you give him when reality check hits just a bit too hard, you ask him gently, “What’s wrong with the arrosto di manzo?”
He doesn’t mind the subject change, knowing it's needed to alleviate the burden of truth on you and subside the guilt that eats away at him. He only shrugs gently, taking it in stride, “Too bitter.”
“Red sauce?” You ask with a quirk of your brow.
He nods, “And a lot of pepper.”
“You hate red sauce.” You tell him knowingly and he huffs out a laugh, because of course you do.
He shrugs again, as if that was enough of an answer, but in the secret language of two individuals who know each other inside and out, it is.
You weren’t there to stop me.
"How do I know this isn't you just trying to sabotage me?" You ask quietly, and Kuroo snorts. Your perfume floods his nose on his inhale and he tries to ignore the fact that you look and smell way too nice for someone who’s taking you to Aroma Fresca of all places.
"Why would I do that?" He asks in equal measure, leaning his chin onto his propped hand and giving you a look.
You roll your eyes with an upward gesture of your hands, "I don’t know. Ruin eternal happiness, keep me chained to your side forever and prevent me from going anywhere with anyone else."
Kuroo snorts again, "You're hardly chained."
"Fine. Kept on a leash. Tightly,” You retort, and he laughs. Melodically, you might add, but that’s neither here nor there.
"It's not like you don't like it."
"Kinky." You say with a waggle of your brows and he rolls his eyes, choking down the snort that you know is dying to come out. And like everything else that comes with your boss, you find that familiar blossom of sweetness bloom through you.
He ranks above you in every way that matters. An ocean the size of the Pacific lies between you, differed in status, pay, and experience— all necessary factors that require you, in this modern system of scaffolded equality, to regard him with the utmost reverence and respect. A fact you had banked your entire life savings upon the first time you entered the building, ready to suck ass and feign respect for a paycheck; Ready to be treated horribly and beaten down to a pulp in the corporate ladder because of what you did not have in comparison to your superiors. And yet, Kuroo Tetsurou surprised you in the most pleasant of ways when he had not only welcomed you with as much respect as you gave him, but also decided that engaging in juvenile arguments with you were of the utmost importance in his to-do list— especially if they ended up making you laugh.
He should be stern, be more rigid in his ways because he’s a serious man with a serious job and there’s no time in the clockwork of capitalism to dawdle. But he’s not; He’s everything but that. He’s warm, and kind, and horribly annoying, but he makes sure to do good by you— for you. Even if it means breaching the confines of professionality and standard in order to make you feel equal to him.
Not subservient, not disposable, not drowning in the expanse of waves detailing the discrepancies between you two; But equal.
(He’s the best boss you’ve ever had, and despite the wicked face of disdain and annoyance you put on for him, you take everything he does and says to heart. Because the warmth of respect and admiration that flutters in your chest would kill you if you didn’t.
Because that’s all it is— respect for his intelligence and admiration for his convictions;. And you would be a fool to not listen to your boss, of all people. That’s all it is; That’s all he is.
Right?)
Kuroo extends his hand forward, flicking his middle finger against your forehead and you feel yourself somewhat pulled out of the trance of a starry-eyed gaze and back to his humorous one, "I was referencing the benefits you get from being my assistant."
"I know what you meant,” You swat his hand away, rubbing the spot he hit, “Either way, I don’t think that’s the case here. This guy I’m seeing is young! He doesn't seem like the type to even want to be married, so I really doubt he is."
"And that's desirable in a man?" Kuroo raises an eyebrow.
"You know what I mean."
Kuroo departs from your desk with a tap on the wall, grabbing his mug and beginning a slow trek back towards his original destination, not missing for a second the irony in the fact that just as he makes fun of the people who take a detour to your desk when trying to go to the breakroom, he’s the worst of them all, "I'm just saying, I've seen this happen before and I would hate for you to be caught in it too."
"Cause then I'd have to miss a day of work wallowing in my heartbreak? Sounds like a win to me." You sarcastically tell his retreating back, eyes watching the shoulder blades move through the fabric of his white dress shirt. He turns in place, and you have to quickly move your gaze upward.
"No,” He says slowly, “because then I'd have to personally kick that guy's ass."
His voice is devoid of the usual teasing that seems to drip in everything that he says.
"You would not," You chortle, waiting for the punchline. It never comes. He continues, tone filled with that serious tone that you’ve only ever heard when he’s on the phone or in a meeting. Never, in all the years you’ve known him, has it ever been directed at you.
"I absolutely would. I'd make it my personal mission to ruin his life." And he means it. Has never meant it more as he looks at you from across the empty office, the fluorescent lights of the office failing to diminish the way your lips shine in that particular gloss, the red satin complimenting your skin like no other color has before.
"Why?"
If he could, he would shake some sense into you. A ridiculous question, really.
Kuroo sees you everyday— has seen you at your worst, at your best, on Halloween when you came in as a hotdog, and at midnight on a random Saturday when you came to deliver his prescription medicine that he had accidentally left in your purse— and yet, sometimes it feels like he’s seeing you for the first time. Particularly in moments when you are so profoundly you, when he’s stranded in wonder at your existence, that he can’t help but feel like he’s seeing things clearly all over again; The pangs of something thumping against his chest as the feelings that he’s buried deep inside of him, seem to crawl their way upward.
With a swallow, he musters the courage to push past the ache in his chest, "Aside from the fact that whatever you do or get into reflects heavily upon my own public character?"
You laugh, beautifully, he might add, "Yes, aside from your own personal and narcissistic reasons."
"Because you’re my assistant, and I care about you. And I'd hate to see you hurt over some scummy guy. Especially if I could prevent it in some way."
It’s not a lie, per se, it’s just not the whole truth.
It doesn’t do anything to soothe the erratic thumping of his heart at the tiniest revelation of what’s burning so deep inside of him, or the constricting of his throat at the realization that just as he longs for you, so do others.
But where he differs from all the other men is that he’s not allowed to have you, no matter how much he might want. It’s a boundary set for a reason, power dynamics and all being a very precarious situation to teeter legally that he’s not willing to risk his job for without a sure outcome.
Without unwavering confidence that you’ll have him, completely. Unabashedly.
But he’s not confident in that. Because chances are, he’s the one that has the blurred vision of the line between you two— not you. He’s the one that’s blinded by the enrapture of your magnetic presence, he’s the one who has gotten his foot stuck into the tempting entrapment of admiration. None of that was your intentional doing. So, he must suffer the consequences as all lonely fools who mistake the constant attention and care of their assistant’s as something more must do.
He’d rather have you in the security of friendship forged through connection than fuck it all up on a possibility.
"I'll cancel the date then,” You say gently, after a moment of his confession— could you even call it that?— sitting untouched in the air between you two. His heart lurches, and he knows he needs to do the right thing and let you go.
He sighs, hand dropping limply at his side. The mug hits the side of his leg and he notes with wry bemusement that his appetite for coffee has vanished.
With a cadence one can only describe as remorseful, he says, "I'm not asking you to not go. I'm just... just, look for a tan line on his left hand, third finger. That should tell you all you need to know."
He lets the weight of his words and their unspoken meanings settle, hoping it would be enough. That even in the distance between you two that tends to feel like a massive chasm in every area that seems to matter to everyone else but him, you can understand the basics of his intentions. Denote them at a surface value consideration and just… be careful.
You nod gently, “Okay.”
Silence befalls you two, but you can’t seem to take your eyes off of him; Nor he, you. Maybe it’s gratitude he sees in the pools of your iris, maybe it’s affection, who knows? He doesn’t try to fool himself into thinking it’s anything, lest his heart take the faint tendrils of the delusion and run with it.
After what seems like years of prolonged eye contact, you spare a glance down at your watch. Realizing the time, you grab your purse and put it on your shoulder.
“I should get going now,” You tell him sheepishly, and he only nods, tapping the abandoned mug against his leg.
“Yeah, you don’t want to miss out on the arrosto di manzo.” He watches as you move towards the door, hand on the knob as you tilt your head back and laugh, meeting him with the smile he knows so well.
“Hey, Tetsurou?” You call him, unable to open the door just yet.
He raises a brow, “Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
Said with dazzling eyes and sparkling lips and a whole lot of genuinity that has Kuroo nauseated with whatever fills the cavity of his chest. Then you’re gone, waving to him through the large glass window of the office before disappearing out of sight. Red dress and all.
He glances down to the red lettering of his mug, finding the bold print to be more blinding than ever and turns back to his office. He puts the mug back on it’s rightful spot, beside his desktop, phrase facing him alongside all the other faint reminders of you that surround him.
He resumes his work, the fuel of spite a better source of energy than caffeine could ever be.
-*-
He’s read through the twelve player contracts on his desk, made steady progress on the MSBY promotional budget spreadsheet, and scheduled his meetings regarding the upcoming division tournaments for the next three months since you left the office. (He knows you’ll chew his ass out for that last bit later, considering that’s your job and no one knows how his schedule works best except for you, but he does it anyway. Needing to do something, needing to be distracted from the pangs of longing that he tries to beat into submission.)
He only looks up from his desk when he hears the door to the office open. Sparing a glance at the clock, he finally realizes the time. 8:30. Stretching from his hunched position on his desk, he decides now would be the best time to probably pack things up. As a rule of thumb, whenever the office janitors come in to clean the offices is the best time for him to leave too. The day is officially over.
Grabbing his briefcase, he puts the files he’s been working on throughout the day in there, throwing his suit jacket over his crooked elbow and shutting the door behind him, already making plans for takeout. Dinner is on the forefront of his mind, and with it, comes the latent thought of you and your date.
He hopes it went well.
(No he doesn’t.)
He makes his way down the corridor of the office, ready to greet the old man that is usually assigned to clean this side of the building when he turns the corner, but instead finds himself frozen in his tracks for the second time today.
Red dress. Standing by your desk.
"What are you doing here?" Kuroo says, and just like before, you turn in your place and reveal the fancy dress that adorns your body. Only this time, the gloss on your lips is gone and your hair so neatly done a few hours ago looks a bit tousled.
Giving him a small embarrassed smile, you hold your hand up in front of you, an assortment of dangling keys shown to him, "Forgot my keys. Kind of can't get home without them. What are you still doing here?"
So, you’re not going home with your date. He shouldn’t be as relieved as he is to hear that.
He shuffles on his feet and clears his throat, trying his best to rid himself of the shame he feels. You’re an adult, he can’t control what— or who— you do. "I was, uh, reading some of the Sendai Frogs contracts for that meeting with the VP tomorrow.”
You nod quickly in recognition, adding, “Oh, his secretary called about a room change. They’re holding the meeting in the east wing, instead of the west. Room 432-H, I’m pretty sure.”
“The one by Financing?”
“Yeah, that one. Across from HR.”
“Same time?”
“Yeah, same time.”
“Remind me tomorrow, cause I’ll forget.”
“I know.” You say with such assurance, because you do know.
He snorts a breath of wry amusement through his nostrils and a silence takes over the space. The kind that begs to be broken, both of you clearly having something to say yet refusing to be the first one to speak. It’s thick and choking and so clearly uncomfortable because you’ve been working together for three, almost four, years and there has never been a moment in time in which you two just haven’t said anything to each other.
He knows he should ask, but truthfully, he doesn’t want to know. Because it probably went well— it’s you for God’s sakes! Of course anyone would want to date you.
“You know, the date—”
“How was the date— "
You both fall silent again. The simultaneous jump to conversation shaking you both back into the safety of stupor. That is, until Kuroo decides to stop being a pussy and just… bite the bullet. Even if the answer kills him.
“How was the date?” He repeats, swallowing the lump of fear. If you notice the hesitancy in his voice at all, you don’t mention it. You only heave a deep breath.
"Well, you were right,” You glance down to your hands, fingers fiddling with the keys in obvious disappointment and it's then that Kuroo realizes that this answer— the one where the date did not go well— is even worse, “Apparently being separated for 'a long time' means calling it quits on your two children and very pregnant wife about a week ago."
"Holy shit."
He knows his unprofessionalism is a rampant problem, especially in the sanctity of his office, but it always seems to come out in full force whenever you’re around and the sun has long since disappeared, taking every modicum of respectability with it.
No longer just a boss and his assistant, but friends. Close friends.
"Yeah... so,” You laugh ironically, and inhale, raising your downturned head and staring at him face on. As if you were bracing for something, “I give you permission."
"What?"
You remain undeterred, even if his confusion runs rampant. You barrel through, with faux confidence, awaiting a consequence, "Do it. Just say it. 'I told you so.' I know you want to."
Even though you grin at him with that kind of exasperated smile that comes with anticipated disappointment, he doesn’t have the heart within him to tease you like he would were this any other situation. Not when defeat, despite how elegantly you hold in stride, makes your eyes too soft and him utterly desperate to see them warm again.
He steps forward, closing the distance in slow steps, "I won’t. I really don't want to be right about this."
You shrug your shoulders, awaiting his slow saunter with an open physicality. Refusing to be closed off by wounded pride like anyone else your situation would— like anyone has every right to be. "Well. You were. That's the last time I'll be going out in a while."
There is only sympathy when he says, "I'm sorry it turned out this way." He truly, genuinely means it. Hates that a scummy guy had to waste your time when you obviously were excited for a date— when you dressed to the nines for it.
You wave a hand at him, leaning against your cubicle walls, with practiced nonchalance. If your job has taught you how to do anything, it’s taught you how to keep composure in the most unlikely of situations.
Your dress moves in elegant tandem with you, the red satin swaying with the relaxing of your body against the wall, "Ah, don't worry about it. Unfortunately for you, this just means you’ll be stuck with me more often."
How is he supposed to tell you that that is not at all unfortunate?
He can’t. Can only shove the fluttering of his stomach down with repeated stomps and move past it, "Hm. Did he at least pay for your meal?"
You scoff, "We didn't even get to order appetizers before I asked about his previous dating history." You shake your head, mumbling a curse underneath your breath. Something along the lines of “shitbag”, but Kuroo is too confused to even register it.
His eyes widen, briefcase hanging limply at his side as he regards you with unobstructed shock, “What the hell were you doing for three hours?”
You slump your head backwards, bracing against the panels of the cubicle and closing your eyes. Exhaustion laces your words, “Arguing. Trying to get his hands off of me and find a taxi on a Friday night.”
He’s not envious of the plight of women, no matter how many times his college roommate used to say that free drinks made up for everything else women were subjected to. Indoctrinated by the majority of his female staff, Kenma mutters. Matter of opinion, really. He just thinks you should be able to say no without wasting three hours of your life in the process— or so the majority of his female staff has told him.
(“I’m a feminist,” Kuroo told the back of Kenma’s head. Kenma snorts, eyes fixated on the screen of his computer and the numerous ogres he was slaying.
“Not a very good one.”)
"That sounds—” Kuroo begins with aching shock.
"—horrible." You blow a raspberry for effect.
He sighs and you nod in affirmation. "Well then. Are you hungry?"
Your head perks up, eyebrows drawn together, "Oh no. No. You don't have to."
Kuroo shrugs, broad shoulders hiking up to his ear and he gives a slanted smile. "I was going to get dinner anyway. I don't mind the company."
You shake your head insistently, because the humiliation of a failed date is more than enough. You don’t need pity too. You stand upright and at attention, "You don't have to do this to make me feel better."
Your boss tilts his head to the side boyishly, one of the many reminders of just how close in age he is to you, and grins with ease as he says the magic words. "I'll pay." Hoping, pleading, that maybe you’re not too exhausted from the plagues of shitty men to skip his offer. That you’ll put up with the shitty antics of one more man, just for a couple more hours.
(A very, very bad feminist he is.).
You mutter, all fight ebbed at his offer and coupled with the low growl of your stomach, "...alright."
He laughs with victory, sauntering up next to you with what one could only describe as a swagger in his walk.
"Think about it this way,” He chirps as he holds his abandoned suit jacket open for you, of which you eagerly allow him to place over your bare shoulders, “At least you know you won't have to worry about some scorned wife coming to attack you when you go out with me."
"I'm not ruling that out yet," You turn to face him with a giggle and he meets it with what he intended to be a smirk until he notices that while the jacket is ill-fitting and doesn’t exactly go well with your ensemble, you seem to sink in it graciously. Said smirk fumbles in its place, corners of his mouth turning watery beneath you and held open in small suspension. Somehow, you look even better than you did at the beginning of the night.
He tries to recover, hopes you don’t recognize the brief stumble, "Neither am I. My college years were a wild time."
That releases an ugly cackle from you and he cheers silently, victory achieved in suppressing the warm parts of him, then steps forward to hold the front office’s door open for you. He beckons you towards him with a grand ushering of his hand to the door, raising an eyebrow in question when you only stand in place. The beginnings of an idea playing theatrically behind your gaze, and detailed in the bite of your bottom lip.
“Do you want to just… order in? Get takeout delivered here and eat until Ikayaki-san comes in and kicks us out?”
A juvenile idea, really. One that you shouldn’t partake in, especially not with your boss and the incredibly unclear line of boundaries.
He should really say no, reason and logic remind you.
His grasp on the door lessens without him even realizing, the door closing shut behind his stuttering mouth and blinks. He can only exhale an absent breath, suspended in the trance of a growing delusion that he knows he should keep at bay, but can’t help but buy into wholeheartedly. Not when you give him such a shy smile and a light shrug of your shoulders.
He should really say no, professionalism insists on him.
“Yeah,” He breathes out, and you beam at him, “Sounds like a plan.”
He follows behind you to his office, making himself comfortable in the office as you take your usual seat in front of him and scrolling through the sea of options on your phone, throwing each one out with increasing enthusiasm. He agrees to whichever one makes you happier, not even knowing what it might be until you put a menu in front of him.
You’re on the phone placing an order and asking for a bottle of wine, when he wonders how long it will take you to remember that the janitor, Ikayaki-san, has the day off today. He takes note of the time, deciding to make a game of it until you finally realize— deciding to have you while he can, for as long as you’ll let him.
(You realize it at midnight, in the midst of the throes of laughter.
“Oh shit,” You say quickly, giggles halted as you come to grips with the situation, “Ikayaki-san doesn’t work today.”
“I know,” Kuroo says, “Took you four hours.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“You seemed like you wanted to hang out with me so badly—”
“Clean up your mess, you jerk. We’re leaving.”)
a/n: let me know what you all think! i will try to be more active on here because i want to talk to you all! anyways, thanks for looking!
before i start up about the event, i just want to mention : thank you so much for 100! i know it's probably not much in the grand scheme of things, but i barely thought i would get to fifty let alone one-hundred. i can't wait for the next milestone and most of all i can't wait to have you guys here!
now, THE 100 EVENT YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR...
THE LYRIC DRABBLE EVENT!
send me a song, a genre, and a character and i'll write a drabble based off of it! it can be angst, fluff, hurt to comfort, aus, literally whatever you want! please keep it sfw though! anon is allowed and you can have as many as you want!
this event starts today (september 26th, 2021) and will end on saturday, october 16th, 2021!
all writings will be tagged as .[sophie's 100 lyric event]
please reblog and share this around!!! (if this flops that's. embarrassing lmfao)
taglist (SORRY BABES JUST TRYING TO SPREAD THE WORD):
@koushisbutterfly , @pies-writes-and-more , @elkawholeek , @hydrogwyn , @kenmaslov3r , @tobi-momo
This idea popped in my head so randomly tbh but I liked it so here we are. I am going to probably write a part 2 for this so if you have any ideas let me know!! I hope you enjoy this :D for kuroo's there is a mention of a child so I looked up a gender-neutral parental term! If this isn't a correct term or maybe there is a better one please let me know! I used Nopa which has been used as a combination of Nonbinary parent
REQUESTS ARE OPEN!
WHEN HARRY MET SALLY: t.oikawa
Years of running into one another. Things always seemed to be getting in the way but for Torū Oikawa, he knew this was his only chance to prove himself. Running into a New Year's Eve Party, spotting them there, he knew this was his last try.
Y/N fumed, smoke could have been billowing out of their ears at this point. What right does he have being here?
"Y/N I have been doing a lot of thinking and the thing is, I'm in love with you"
"What?"
"I love you" he repeated, sweat gathering on his hands.
"How do you expect me to respond to that?" Y/N asked stunned, He really has the nerve?
"How about you love me too," he stated matter of factly
As Torū attempted to get closer to them, Y/N gathered their things, turned to him, and said,
"How about I'm leaving?"
Shocked, he followed them towards the door, "Doesn't what I said mean anything to you?!"
"I'm sorry Torū, I know it's New Year's Eve, I know you're lonely, but you can't just show up here, tell me you love me, and expect that to make everything okay. It doesn't work this way." Y/N said turning into the crowd, tears welling in their eyes.
He ran a frantic hand through his hair, frustrated "Well, how does it work?!"
"I don't know but not this way," Y/N shouted over the cheers that reigned in the new year.
"Well, how about this way?" Torū paused, "I love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich! I love that you get this little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts. I love that after I spend the day with you I can still smell your perfume on my clothes, and I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night."
He continued, "And it's not cause I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."
Torū's heart was practically in his feet. The blood throughout his entire body felt like it was rushing to his face and temples. Dizzy, he felt dizzy. In love, in hate, in frustration, all of it,
"You see-" Y/N began, their voice sounding watery, "That is just like you Torū! You say things like that and you make it impossible for me to hate you!"
A smirk crept its way onto Oikawa's lip as he watched them ramble on, "I hate you Torū, I really hate you" Y/N's voice began to crack.
Pulled together almost instantaneously, their lips touched. Fire and passion, hatred and love, tieing them together. Maybe for the first time in years, love could be something good. The first time the pair had met, they hated each other, then they forgot one another. The 3rd time they had met they became friends.
And the next time? They fell in love.
Pretty good ending right?
50 FIRST DATES: t.kuroo
Waking up in a start a sense of urgency coursed through their blood. Y/N expected to wake up in their own bed. It was their Father's birthday today and yet, Y/N was out at sea.
Now that was no exaggeration, they turned to look out a circular window, seeing a seemingly endless amount of crystal water and huge ice glaciers. They wanted to scream but as they turned they found a VHS tape with the title, "Good morning Y/N" on it. Who honestly uses a VHS anymore Y/N may never know. Cautiously they picked it up and put it into the VHS player in front of them. Sitting back they were confronted with their favorite song playing in the background.
Clips flashed to show a news article, detailing a wreck that had occurred a few years ago. A stray animal had jumped into the road, causing Y/N to have apparently swerved their car into a tree. This accident caused Y/N to have a loss of every memory that would happen during or after the accident.
Tears welled into their eyes as they kept watching. Y/N couldn't have ever imagined this occurring to them. The screen changed to one of their friends back home, smiling and laughing. Suddenly a Rooster headed man, a large smile on his face appeared and shared a kiss with Y/N on the video. Y/N couldn't truly wrap their head around it but it made their heart skip a beat when they looked into this man's eyes.
"Will you Kuroo Tetsuro take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded partner, to have and to hold, from this day forth, for as long as you both shall live?" Looking up a startled Y/N ran a hand across their face, the glint of a ring sitting on their finger confirming what they had seen on the T.V.
"I do," Kuroo smiled lovingly, the officiant making jokes about his own marriage to this distaste of his wife who was in the seats at the ceremony. Y/N laughed slightly at that, a sense of familiarity blossoming in their chest.
Y/N and Kuroo shared a kiss making the marriage official.
As Y/N looked around she heard Kuroo's voice from the T.V. "It's very cold outside so when you're ready put on a jacket and come have breakfast with me. Love ya"
Tightly wrapping a coat around themselves, Y/N walked up the rocking steps of the boat to the upper deck.
"Hey! Good morning Mx. Kuroo. Would you like to meet your daughter?" He said softly, learning a long time ago that being too energetic would scare Y/N in the morning. Y/N smiled and nodded softly.
"Go say hello to Nopa," Kuroo encouraged as a sweet little girl came up to Y/N. She has similar features to Y/N but her hair was just like her father's.
"Hi Nopa." Y/N scooped her up in their arms, Kuroo leaned over pressing a kiss to Y/N's lips. Teary eyes all Y/N could say was "Oh my goodness" and laugh softly.
"Grandpa is here," Kuroo said, and Y/N waved to their father smiling.
Dreams really do come true.
I hope you are all taking care of yourselves <333 love you lots
here's a messy sketch of me and semi cuz he is ♡♡♡ ofc me struggling cuz i tried to do it with no reference, in the end i caved hahahaha literally did this on a whim 20 mins tops hahahha anw
if u got to here, hmm i cant sleep now pls send me some of your favorite songs and tell me why it's so special to u.
mine is love of my life by queen, the rawness of the song captures my heart every time i listen to it, freddie wrote it for his true love and in the song you can feel how he truly loved mary <333
