Patches Of My Mind

Name's Dove♡ |Writer | Reader | 21|

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꧁𝒲ℯ𝓁𝒸ℴ𝓂ℯ 𝒯ℴ ℳ𝓎 𝒲ℴ𝓇𝓁𝒹꧂

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𝓡𝓮𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓴𝓼 :

Overtime ft. Nanami Kento

Apologies ft. Byakuya

Shunsui Headcannons

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Attack On Titan

Bleach

Haikyuu!!

Jojo's Bizzare Adventure

Jujutsu Kaisen

Wind Breaker (Manhwa)

𝕀𝕟𝕓𝕠𝕩 :

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[beargyufairy]

You lied to me

I did

You poisoned me

I did

You told me you loved me

I do

[erenstshirt]

Overtime ft. Nanami Kento

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Now that you can finally use your leg properly, you feel the sun shine brighter. You feel the flowers smiling at you, and the plants outside your door clapping for you in encouragement.

You grab your stuff, the fruit tart you made, and bid Tiramisu goodbye.

◇◇◇

You stand jaw slack at the last stair, blinking rapidly to ensure your eyes aren't playing tricks on you.

"Why are you—"

"Good morning, Miss L/N," he interjects.

It takes a minute to process that you're back to formalities, ironed suits, and labels.

"Right, sorry. Good morning, sir," you greet him and wait for an explanation.

"I don't want my secretary to be late again, so I'm going to start picking you up," he says, like it's something normal.

"Sir, there's absolutely no need for that," you try to reason, which feels... unreasonable to do, with him.

"Get in the car, Y/N." Oh. Not back to formalities, then. But back to getting on your nerves.

"How about you let me do what I want for once, Nanami?" You step your foot down, and you feel silly. Nanami has his hands in his pockets, and it's utterly unbelievable that you're standing on the stair, in heels, to become eye level with him.

And why does he look so composed when you are literally burning on the inside?

And yeah, he may look composed, but you don't seem to notice the clenched jaw. The fists in his pocket.

Nanami— he's never liked his last name as much before.

When he stays quiet, you put on a fake smile and step down, and the gap widens. Nanami looks down at you, and you just glare at him stubbornly.

"I don't like repeating myself twice," he warns, adjusting his damn glasses the way he always does.

"Fine," you spit out, and march angrily toward the car with him behind.

◇◇◇

"I don't recall it being anyone's birthday anytime soon," he says, staring at the box in your lap. Now that you remember it, you take it out of the box and hold it up.

"Well, I originally made it for you as a thank you, and—"

"You made it for me?" His tone makes a lump of guilt ball in your throat.

"Y-yeah, is there a problem?" you ask, looking at the tart in your hand and starting to inspect it carefully.

The light turns red, and the car wheels stop spinning.

You barely have time to formulate another response when he says in a low voice, "that's so sweet of you." And his scent is low, awfully close to your nostrils, hurriedly pushing into your breathing space? But why—oh.

Oh.

Nanami inches closer and takes a bite of the tart in your hand, before moving back slightly, face still close. "It tastes really good." What. What. What the heck happened to this man? Why is he suddenly so... there?

"Is everything alright?" Did he really ask that? In that sweet, worrisome tone? No. Everything is not alright. You look at him, shock evident on your face, and notice a bit of cream on the corner of his lips.

Alright, Nanami Kento, let's do this then. You are not going to take whatever he dishes on you, not without a fight.

"There's a bit of cream—here, let me," you say, innocently wiping it off with your thumb, and bringing it to your lips to suck it off.

"All good!" You beam, basking in his dumbfounded expression. The light turns green that instant, and Nanami has to force himself out of the daze and focus on driving you both safely without crashing (out.)

◇◇◇

Now that you repaid him, it should be done. There should be no more reasons for you and him to interact beyond work.

A trail of memories of moments you shared with him over the past few months play in your mind like a casette. Over and over, like it's broken.

Yes, you won't—can't deny the tension or your attraction to him. You may be a lot of things, but a liar isn't one of them.

However, putting an end to those feelings is essential for a multitiude of reasons:

A) He is your boss.

B) A man this good must be a delusion.

C) He is the co-CEO. (Gojo being the other one.)

Unfortunately, there's an exhibit you failed to note: when you are in the field of vision of a leopard, you are halfway through being a caught prey.

◇◇◇

"Are you done?" Nanami walks into your office like he owns the place. Oh, he does.

"Yes, sir, is there anything else I can do for you?" you ask while standing up.

"No, just grab your stuff so we can leave." Huh?

"Leave to where?" you ask, confused.

"I'll drive you home." Well, now that's just unreasonable.

"Why? So I won't be late to feeding Tiramisu?" You can't help but ask in defiance. Nanami tilts his head, whether in amusement or frustration, you can't tell.

Your words hang in the air. The sound of his leather shoes has never sounded so alarming before, but as he walks closer to you and rounds your desk, you feel your heartbeat form a crescendo with his footsteps.

In a moment, you realize how close he's actually standing, how commanding his presence feels.

"Your attitude," he says in a hushed tone that makes your skin freckle. You're practically about to mold into the wood of your table with the way you're pressing against it. He's close, so close you could see every spring and fall painted in his eyes.

He puts his hands on the table on either side of you, and you're forced to lean back even more. "It needs fixing." You gulp. And Nanami watches the stretch in your beautiful neck and has to contain himself from touching it.

"Are you going to listen?" You find yourself nodding, and find him smirking so arrogantly. This wasn't the plan. This was not the plan.

"Use your words." You're at a loss of breath, and you barely manage to say yes.

"Good. Now, pack your stuff, and walk in front of me." He orders, and it makes so much sense that he has a grand company and people do their all for his approval.

◇◇◇

The ride felt like an eternity of stuffy air, thrumming heart, and clammy skin. You felt like you had been holding your breath the entire ride home.

And just when you thought you’ll finally be able to breathe now that your building is in peripheral vision, you see Yuuji sitting by the stairs, worried, and…alone.

"Stop the car!" Nanami immediately hits the brake and stops. "What's wr—" You're out of the car before he can even finish his sentence, and running to Yuuji. "What happened? Where's Tiramisu?!" You're frantic, looking around desperately.

"I'm really sorry, I'm really sorry!" Your eyes widen, and a hundred thousand scenarios flash through your mind, none of which were good. "WHERE IS HE?!" You scream at Yuuji, shaking him by his shoulders.

Nanami grabs and pulls you off him. "Calm—"

"Do not tell me to calm down!" You're pointing your finger at him, shaking, scared—terrified.

"I was grabbing him a treat from the store, and he was literally beside me, and I turned to pay and didn’t find him when I turned to grab his leash." No. No, no, no. This can not be real. This cannot be happening.

"What store, Yuuji?" Your tone is low but holds weight. "The Futaba mini—Y/N, wait!" But you're already taking off your heels and running. Nanami and Yuuji follow suit, calling out as they search the neighborhood.

Nanami is holding your heels in one hand, torn between following you and scanning the other side to find Tiramisu faster. Following you wins out. And thank goodness it does—because just as you two round the corner, Nanami feels his life flashing before his eyes.

"Tiramisu!" You yell, rushing to grab him before the approaching cars hit him. In a flash, someone pulls you back and rushes in front of you to pull Tiramisu out of the way.

◇◇◇

Three cars are stopped just where you had been standing, with Nanami on the ground and Tiramisu whining and jumping on him. You stare at the scene, bewildered.

So, exhibit B: A man this good must be a delusion, had been naught. Before you is a man who pulled you out of danger and risked his life thoughtlessly for your dog—someone who meant so much to you.

Yuuji asks if you're okay, but you can't seem to hear him. You only want to get to Nanami. "Ma'am, please be caref—" People start disappearing from around you. The street, cars, poles, and lights blurred out.

There is just Nanami, sitting on the ground, holding Tiramisu, and his glasses on the ground next to him. "Are you okay?" he asks you as he picks his glasses up. He's checking on you, after risking his life for you and your dog?

But he's talking to you; he's okay. And Tiramisu is wagging his tail, and he's okay too. And you're relieved. You're relieved and happy and you're feeling so many things at once and can't seem to contain them within.

You throw your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, afraid he's a dream on the edge of liminal space. His cologne fills your senses, his body heat presses against you, his arms around you, and Tiramisu is safe. And that's all it takes for your body to slip out of consciousness for the day.

"Y/N?" Nanami calls softly, feeling you slump against him. "Y/N!"

◇◇◇

"I'm sorry for this mess," Yuuji says as he walks behind Nanami, holding Tiramisu’s leash in one hand and your heels in the other. Nanami turns around with you over his shoulder. "This isn’t your fault. Things happen. I’m sure she’s not mad at you," he ruffles Yuuji’s hair, and it brings tears to his eyes.

"I'm glad Y/N has someone like you, Nanamin!" Yuuji says. Nanami clears his throat to ease the redness in his face and scolds Yuuji for calling him that.

◇◇◇

You wake up when you feel someone putting you down on a familiar, soft mattress. "Mmm, what—" You sit up abruptly. "Nanami!" you gasp, finding him standing before you, surprised.

Nanami allows you to register your surroundings, and for a moment you question reality. But there he is, standing before you, as tall and broad and blond as ever. And there is Tiramisu, playing with his toy by the coffee table.

"Are you o—"

"Stop asking me that!" you protest while standing.

"Are you okay?" you ask him, and he blinks in confusion.

"Yeah, I am," you shake your head at his overly laid-back attitude.

"Tiramisu!" You call for him, and hug him when he rushes to your side, tears soaking into his soft fur that you loved so much. "Oh my baby, I was so worried." You sigh in relief, standing up and letting him get back to chewing.

You stare at the bundle of fur and joy, thankful that things ended well, thanks to your grumpy boss.

"You—" you point your finger at the man in front of you.

"Yes?" He says in confusion. You grab his hand and lead him to the bathroom.

◇◇◇

"I owe you everything." You sigh, dabbing a disinfectant-soaked cotton on the scratches on his face. Never in your life did you imagine Nanami leaning against the sink in his blue button shirt, getting his wounds tended for saving you and your dog.

"You don’t," he says, and his hand unconsciously reaches for your face to wipe a falling tear. He keeps it there, thumb swiping back and forth on your cheek.

"I do. Tiramisu is all I have, and I thought I lost him." You sob. "You risked your life and this whole time I was trying to paint you as a bad person in my mind to push you away, and I almost lost you and—" Nanami was in your face, so close, his breath dancing across your nose bridge.

Your breaths mingle, and you could almost see a static line in the space between your eyes and his. The air feels thick, and your sweater feels like it's melting on your skin.

Your perfume is in his space, and Nanami is lost between whether he is on the edge or has already fallen. His lips part open, lingering between silence and words.

"Can I kiss you now? Or are you going to make me wait longer?" Your vision blurs, and you lose all comprehension. You were so sure you had woken up earlier, but now you weren't so sure.

"What, I—" Nanami’s lips engulf yours. Yeah, you're defenitely awake.

His lips consume yours in a fire that lights every cell in your body. You mindlessly lean in, hands curling around his neck.

One hand rests on your waist, thumb rubbing across your ribcage. The other hand cups your face tenderly. In a moment, you're sitting on the bathroom's counter, Nanami standing between your legs, and kissing every breath you exhale.

"Nan—Kento," you sigh. His groan rumbles into you as he hugs you closer, almost trying to settle you in his heart—literally this time. His hand moves to your hair, and the one on your waist slides under your cotton turtleneck.

You buck into him instinctively, the expression on his face to die for. Only when there's no more breaths to kiss does Nanami begrudgingly pull back, pecking your lips once more, then your forehead. He then rests his own forehead against yours.

"I didn’t know whether I wanted you as my secretary or not because from the moment I saw you during the interview, I’ve wanted you." What? All this time…

"I refused. But hearing that you refused, made me mad. I wanted to understand why." He shakes his head, finding himself ridiculous for this confession.

"But I couldn’t, so I wanted to punish both of us." You giggle. Who would’ve thought this composed man struggled so hard to fight his attraction to you, even more than you fought yours?

"I never imagined you to be so whipped, sir," you say playfully. Nanami exhales heavily when he curls his fingers around your nape, pulling you close so his lips brush over your neck. "Careful, Miss L/N, talking to your boss that way may get you punished," you gulp, and Nanami chuckles at the reddening of your ears.

He bends down, leaving a long kiss on your neck that makes your fingers bite into his shirt. "Let me take you on a date." Your eyes fly open, still in disbelief.

"You know, I’ve been craving Korean barbecue, but I fear you might want to discuss the sto—"

"You little smarty pants," you yelp as he tickles you, and fall into a fit of laughter.

"A date sounds really good," you smile, and he kisses you again.

Master list

[erenstshirt]

Overtime ft. Nanami Kento

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Two days later...

You couldn't tell if you're happy about this little vacation, or going insane doing nothing but sitting at home. But what you could certainly tell is that someone is happy, and that someone has been wagging his tail for the past minute as you pet their head and stare at their sweet eyes.

"Oh, Tiramisu, I missed you so much, my baby," and the affection attack is his response.

Nanami delivered two crutches to your doorstep the very same day, and forbade you from coming to work before next week.

But what in the world were you supposed to do? If you could go out, you would not complain, but a whole week at home might just make you go mad.

After a pause of hesitation, you reach for your phone and start typing.

Y: Good morning, sir.

Y: May I go into work tomorrow?

WHY IN THE WORLD WOULD YOU NEED HIS PERMISSION? AND WHY DO YOU SOUND LIKE A PLEADING LITTLE PUPPY?!

G: Absolutely not.

Incoming call, Grumps.

"Hello?" Surprise is evident in your voice, and you find no reason to mask it. "Miss L/N, good morning,"

Is it legal for him to sound good even on the phone? This does not seem fair.

"Good morning, sir," why can you imagine him smiling? It's literally just a greeting. "I'm calling to inform you that no additional work will be given to you upon your return, so you can rest properly." Ah, so that's why he's calling.

This could've been a text, but alright. "No, well, I'm losing my mind at home. It's just me and Tiramisu." You sigh. "Tiramisu?" Oh, right, Tiramisu was with Yuuji—your neighbor and dogsitter—when Nanami helped you to your apartment at that time.

"Oh, um, my dog. And the only person I interact with is Yuuji—my neighbor. He takes Tiramisu for walks. So that's why..." why hasn't he been talking? Did he end the call?

"I see," what kind of response is that? Why are you even surprised? Just because he owned up to his mistake, doesn't mean he isn't the cold person he's always been.

"Yeah," is all you can say in return. "I need to get back to work, Miss L/N. Rest well," and then you hear a beep.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS MAN?

◇◇◇

Yuuji? She's on a first-name basis with her neighbor? And he takes her dog for walks? She trusts him that much? She doesn't even call him by his family name. But Yuuji gets first-name basis?

Nanami dials Gojo, and before Gojo finishes the "Hello," he tells him, "I need you to tell Mr. Takumi that the meeting will be at four instead of five."

"Huh? But I have another meeting at that time," the snowhead complains. "I can handle the meeting alone; the deal with Mr. Takumi doesn't look that promising anyway." Gojo chuckles, "Well, I do agree with that—" "Good, if you'll excuse me." He ends the call.

Gojo Satoru: Why do you want to change the timing though?

N: I have a headache.

Gojo Satoru: 🤨

◇◇◇

Even showering has become hectic. You did say you want a break, but maybe you should've been more specific in your prayers. "Hey, so maybe a break without an ankle sprain next time," you say, hands clasped together and head lifted upwards.

With a sigh, you put on your pajama shorts, tank top, and head to your room.

The doorbell rings as soon as you put your hairbrush down. You grab one of your crutches and head to the door; it must be Yuuji coming to take Tiramisu for a walk.

"Just a second!" Yuuji doesn't chirp back in his usual cheerful tone, but you don't think much of it. Though maybe you should have.

Because this, is not Yuuji. Yuuji isn't that tall or broad. He's not blond and doesn't wear an expensive watch—or those glasses that somehow suit his angular face. "Sir...Nanami? What are you doing here?"

Ah, there it is. She said it. She said Nanami for once. Not Kento, but still something. But...you were probably expecting Yuuji, he thinks. Because you didn't even ask who it is, just said to wait a minute.

You were expecting Yuuji...in these clothes? These short shorts and this tight tank top? "You said you missed work, so I brought work for you." Ha! He must be joking. There is no way he is serious.

You start laughing so hard, your crutch slips and has you tumbling forward. "Careful," he says, about to grab you, but you immediately fix your posture.

"Did you really bring work?" You ask sincerely, hoping for a no. "Yes," he says, bending down to grab a few paper bags from the floor. "Is that...why do you have a Baekjeong bag?"

Is he planning to explain the rise in stock market of Korean restaurants in Japan?

"Miss L/N, I've been standing at the door for five minutes," right...Nanami Kento is standing at your door in his pristine white buttoned shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and about to burst from trying to contain his muscles.

His usually neat hair is slightly disheveled, as though he was in a hurry while coming here. "Right, right! Sorry, please, come in."

Tiramisu rushes to the door, and starts wagging his tail and sniffing around Nanami. And he seems...calm? Why doesn't he look his usual suspicious self, as though he's known Nanami for a while. "This is Tiramisu," you say, retreating backward to welcome Nanami in.

"I've never seen a dog like him around," he says. "That's true, I adopted him from a Canadian shelter I came across," your answer is clipped, because you surely don't want to tell him the sob story, and he surely doesn't want to hear it.

As Nanami walks in, he notes the warm ambiance of your apartment. The paintings on the wall, the warm lights, the plants, and the tall bookshelf that covers an entire wall.

It looked lived-in, much more than his much bigger one; it looked like home. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to clean properly and—" "Your home is lovely." Your fingers tingle for some reason.

"Thank you, sir, I appreciate it." You smile warmly despite yourself, and motion for him to put the bag on the coffee table. "Have a seat, please," you then motion to the couch. "Thank you," he nods.

"Would you like coffee or tea?" This is way too nerve-wracking. Why are you so fidgety? And why is the crutch suddenly too heavy and your body too warm?

"Miss L/N, I would like you to have a seat too, please." Well, well, isn't he just perfect? Too perfect.

The couch looks dwarfed by him, and you wish you bought the longer couch when you were furnishing the place.

Because now, you have to sit next to him, and it will be inevitable to inhale his perfume and accidentally make contact with his large figure.

"Are we going to discuss the stock market of Korean food chains in Japan?" His eyes narrow, and you can see that familiar amusement swirling in his darkened eyes.

"You little smarty pants," he retorts. You can't help but laugh as you walk toward the couch. "Here, let me help," in your hurry to step back in refusal, the crutch slides from under your arm and you lose your balance.

"You—" Nanami grabs your waist and pulls you to him. "Why are you so stubborn?" His eyebrows are pinched, and his grip tight on you. "I'm not, I—" "Yes, you are," he hurls back as he sets you down on the couch.

Your faces are inches apart, and your foot lingers above dangerous waters, wondering if you should step in. No. You shouldn't even think that. And Nanami shares your trail of thoughts apparently, because even though his eyes keep shifting between your lips and your own eyes, he pulls back.

"I got Bulgogi with rice and some sides," what in the world? He got you food and invited himself in? How did he even know you like Korean barbecue? Or is it a coincidence... "Sir, may I ask why you're doing all this?" Yes, Y/N, you aren't someone who is just going to take what's dished on you with no questions asked.

"Respectfully, this has nothing to do with work," you add, and your face heats up because now that you think about it, you're making it seem as though you're kicking him out.

"It does. A change of mood can help heal faster so you can go back to the office quicker," oh. Is that really his train of thought?

Knowing him, it most likely is. With that sophisticated, overly knowledgeable, and prestigious attitude, of course it's how he calculates stuff.

"I see," is all you respond with before he starts opening the bag and taking out the food containers. You gulp, the scent of the steamed food tickling your nostrils so nicely. "Let me get some plates and uten—" Nanami chimes in, "I'll get them, just tell me where." This cannot be happening. He is sabotaging the image of him in your head.

He is gnawing at the image of arrogance that you put together about him. This is not okay. This is unacceptable. "Th-they're in the third drawer, and the plates in the cabinet next to the drawers," your answer lacks emotion, but it's also somehow filled with it: confusion, guilt(?), surprise, and something else that you haven't deciphered yet.

◇◇◇

What's even more baffling than the fact that you're enjoying well-cooked food with your supposedly-cold boss is the fact that he even got a bag of mashed food for Tiramisu.

"I didn't know if he's a little puppy or a full-grown dog, so I got two bags," is what he said.

Does he...does he perhaps like you? No. There's just no way. It must be his conscience because this whole situation is his fault.

You open your mouth to show your appreciation—and protest the unnecessary gestures—but he cuts you off before you can speak. "What made you choose Tiramisu?" That's...not something you thought he'd ask.

"Umm, because of his fur color?" Nanami chuckles, then wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin. That was unnecessarily attractive. Not to you, of course; you just meant like, yeah, whatever.

"I meant, what made you choose him?" Ah, that's even better. Damn it.

You love Tiramisu so much that whenever you're asked about him, you just can't help but start a rant.... "So I was scrolling on Instagram, and I saw this page about rating dogs, and it led me to the page of the Canadian adoption center." Your face lights up, and you start doing these excessive hand gestures as you explain.

You don't even realize that Nanami has stopped eating just so he could be more in tune with you. "And I usually hate looking through adoption videos because they make me ugly cry," you laugh.

I doubt you can, Nanami thinks, but keeps it to himself.

"But maybe I was meant to do so that day, because when I saw that he's the last of his litter and he's been at the shelter for over two yeards, I could not help myself." Your tone dims down, and your smile simmers.

"He was to be euthanized in ten days, and of course I could not let that happen!" You're shaking your head, and Nanami is just staring. Admiring. He wasn't blind to the fact that you're a sweet person, of course.

He sees it in the way you don't miss anyone's birthday, always getting them home-cooked desserts or a small gift. He sees it in the way you greet everyone warmly and get along with the wives of your coworkers as well as their children.

He sees it in the way you put food for the cat that loiters around the company every day, and how you speak to it sometimes when you think no one's looking.

"You're really sweet, Miss L/N," You feel as though someone dropped an ice bucket over your head. Or maybe a gigantic piano.

It's just an endearing compliment from your fellow boss. Why are you acting so weird about it?

"You're a guest right now, sir, so you may call me Y/N," why would you do that, you freaking idiot?! You mentally slap yourself, hoping for the ground to swallow you whole. "Noted," oh, alright. At least he was nice about it.

◇◇◇

Watching him wash the dishes, grab ice cream from the fridge, and sitting on the balcony with you as you two talk about everything but work was certainly a good change of mood. But dangerous. Very dangerous.

Because the puzzle pieces were shifting shapes, falling from their place. The image you have of him is faltering. And that was unsafe.

You almost asked him to stay longer when he was putting his shoes back on and opening the door to leave. Even Tiramisu's ears dwindled when he saw him leaving.

"Goodnight, Y/N," was perhaps your last straw for the night.

◇◇◇

When he makes it to the car, he flops in his seat with a heavy sigh. A sigh of worry or relief, he isn't sure. Maybe both?

He surely is relieved to have found out that Yuuji is a fifteen-year-old boy with pink hair and a fluffy personality. But the fact that he wished the clock was ticking slower is truly worrisome.

Master list

[erenstshirt]

Overtime ft. Nanami Kento

❗️Art is not mine

Part 2

Part 1

You couldn’t place your hand on a concrete reason for your rather strong dislike toward Nanami Kento.

But nevertheless, you did not like him and found it a good enough reason to refuse to work for him.

“I would rather not,” you say to the snowhead sitting on the chair behind the mahogany table.

“My, my, I did not take you for someone who backs down like that,” Gojo laughs. “Why would you rather not?” He intertwines his fingers, laying his elbows down on the smooth surface.

“I—” don’t like him. But you cannot say that because you cannot have your cake and eat it. You already worked hard to squeeze through the eye of the needle of this company, and now you want to refuse a new position because you have a personal dislike toward the person you’ll work under?

“Then it’s settled. Don’t worry, Y/N, I’ll make sure you settle in nicely.” He winks at you, and you sigh in defeat.

If you’re just a secretary, maybe you don’t have to interact with him beyond schedule reading and other minuscule details. You just have to think about the new stuff you can buy for Tiramisu and the amount of new romcoms you'll watch together while you eat ice-cream.

◇◇◇

“I told you I do not need a secretary,” Nanami scoffs at Gojo, who has his long legs spread on top of the very clean coffee table in the middle of Nanami’s extravagant office.

“And get your legs off my table, Satoru,” he adds, and Gojo immediately fixes his entire posture. “With the new project coming, you will need one. Plus, Y/N is not just anyone, she’s a tough cookie. She can handle you.” Nanami’s head whips around faster than the blink of an eye.

“Y/N L/N?” he asks, despite his doubtlessness of his hearing. “Yeah, Y/N. Short, brunette, big eyes, prett—” “Enough. I know who she is,” Nanami cuts in, his tone rather harsh.

“No,” he adds, pushing his glasses upwards using his thumb and middle finger. “What is wrong with you both? Why in the world would you say no?” Gojo sighs in defeat and fishes for a cherry-flavored lollipop from his pocket.

“She refused?” Nanami’s voice is lower than before, and suddenly he is sitting on the couch opposite Gojo.

“She was reluctant, but no one can turn down my charm, of course,” the snowhead brags, boiling the incessant urge of Nanami’s to kick him out of the office.

“I see. Tell her I want her in my office tomorrow at 7:30, sharp.” Nanami turns a blind eye to the surprise etched on Gojo’s pinched eyebrows and slumbering posture.

“That was fast, wow.” Gojo stands up and walks closer to Nanami. “What’s with the sudden change, Kento-kun?” he asks, hands in his pockets and eyes so blue, one can almost see clouds dancing within them.

“Must’ve been your charm,” he answers, standing and walking back to his desk. Gojo laughs, dismissing Nanami’s change of attitude; for now.

◇◇◇

The new stuff you were imagining getting for Tiramisu was certainly not a dogsitter, because you most certainly did not think that being a secretary was grueling to the point where instead of a good ol' evening at a korean barbecue, you had to start consuming caffeine; you, in fact, aren’t that keen on caffeine.

But now, as life has it, it’s either caffeine or sleeping in the office.

“We’ll be working overtime tonight, I need you to prepare these documents for me.”

“The previous secretary got all the data wrong, I need you to redo them.”

“I’m sorry, but I might need you to cancel your hangout. Satoru said today’s client might be forging our papers, and I need you to run some data for me.”

“For today’s company dinner I need you to come earlier so we can discuss the schedule for next week’s business trip.”

You could possibly smudge the smoky black shade forming under your eyes from exhaustion. Maybe Tiramisu forgot your name at this point.

When was the last time you went somewhere that wasn’t the office, your home, the company dinners, or the gym? You’re barely going twice a week too, if that.

Did you offend Satoru with something? Is this his revenge? To hell with the pay raise. The level of your rising blood sugar is much more concerning than anything at this point.

◇◇◇

“You’re ten minutes late.” He isn’t even looking at you, but at his very expensive damned watch. Can’t he hear the way you’re heaving? Does he have little to no regard for you as a living person?

“It won’t h-happen again,” you hope he missed the stutter in your voice, even though—knowing him—he definitely would not miss that.

You clutch the head of the couch, barely able to stand, and in the silence of the room, the sound of shaking papers in your hand echoes around the walls.

“What’s wron—” Nanami is out of his chair in an instant, and in front of you the next.

“What happened?” His hand immediately snatches the pile of papers and throws them to haphazardly scatter on the couch.

“Come, sit,” he coaxes you gently, hand wrapping around your arm. “I’m fine, sir.” If he is offended by your tone, he doesn’t show it.

“Can you walk?” he asks, clearly unconcerned with what you just said. “No—yes, yes I ca— What are you— akkk!” Did he just? What the? Did he just lift you up?

“Sir, please put me down! I said I’m—” you’re on the couch before the rest of the words are out of your mouth. And Nanami is kneeling in front of you.

What. In. The. World?!

“What—” cohesion and comprehension melt at the tip of your tongue, your brain barely able to register what’s happening.

“How did this happen?” You sigh in defeat and close your eyes. “There was some traffic because of an accident. I had to get off the bus and walk to make it on time.” This is so embarrassing...

“So, umm, my heel got stuck in the pavement, and I ended up twisting my ankle and falling face down.” You’re making excessive hand gestures and looking at the books on the neat shelf, the lampshades, just... anywhere but at him.

He wants you to, but maybe it’s better that you don’t see the worry and guilt weighing down on his expression.

But he’s looking at you. His jaw is clenched, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. “Miss L/N, I apologize. This is my fault,” he says sincerely, and you sincerely didn’t mean it—well you did but, you did not mean to say it out loud. But you did.

“Damn right it is.” And just because you mumbled it doesn’t mean it’s any better, because you said it, and he heard it.

“Miss L/N has a sharp tongue, yes?” he quips, lifting an eyebrow in surprise. “Sorry, I’m just—” In your hurry to apologize, you try standing up, only to end up tumbling back on the couch with your body weight on the man before you.

He smells good. He smells really good. He always has. No. No, that cannot be your own formulated thought. It must be a brain fog due to the fall.

“I’ll take you to the hospital for a checkup,” he says, and you think you see a shadow of a smile on his face, but you must bee imagining it.

“There’s no need for that,” you say, bowing your head in appreciation. “I apologize if that came out as a question,” your head cranes up so fast it almost cramps.

“I’m taking you to the hospital, miss L/N,” he informs you, as though you’re a third party in the equation, before he scoops you up in his arms.

“W-wait. Sir, this is highly inappropriate!” you try to argue, but Nanami looks dumbfounded. “What exactly is inappropriate about a concerned boss taking his injured secretary to the hospital?” Oh. Well, when he puts it like that....

Wow, why do you feel like a pervert right now? No, no. This is his fault to begin with; if he didn’t threaten you with overtime, this whole ordeal would not have taken place.

“I can at least walk,” you try to reason, head tilting down in embarrassment, while your hands fidget in the fabric of his dress shirt.

Nanami leaves you on read, setting your body weight on one of his arms and freely using the other arm to open the door and lock it. You’ve always known he’s a robot. But what kind of robot has this muscle strength?

Do robots even care to take humans to hospitals when they’re injured? Or worry for them? Or apologize and admit it’s their fault?

◇◇◇

“It’s only a few minor scratches that won’t scar, but need some ointment. However, the sprain needs a bit of time to heal, and absolutely no pressure put on it.” Does that mean you’ll have to take a few days off?

Maybe you can have some playtime with Tiramisu, and watch a new series. Maybe you’ll have time to finish your drawing, or try a new soup recipe.

No. Wait a second. If you take a few days off, that will mean overtime. And then suddenly you’re falling down a seemingly bottomless spiral, and at the bottom, there is a myriad of papers, forming a flammable throne which the blond man sits upon.

“No,” you shake your head, and both Nanami and the doctor look at you weirdly. “Pardon me?” the doctor says, surprised by your answer. “I can’t take days off from work, there’s so much—” “She will take a few days, doc. May I have the prescription paper so we can leave?”

Who does he think he is? This is all his fault, and now he wants to play the nice guy? Who is he to discard what you want? He isn’t the bos—well he is, but that is not the point.

“Excuse me, I said—” “Ma’am, if you overdo it, the sprain and swelling will worsen. Please listen to your boyfriend.” Boyfriend? Did he just say... boyfriend? Who? Nanami? Nanami Kento? The stuck-up, arrogant, prideful, egotistical, mean, cold, bossy, annoyingly-perfect, handso— Nanami?

“He’s my—” “Thank you, doctor,” Nanami bows politely, before approaching you and hauling you up like a ragdoll.

“Let me go, I can walk!” you argue, yet your hands securely wrap around his neck. You hear him chuckle—chuckle?

“Did you just—”

“L/N, behave yourself and settle down.” He darts you a stern look. His hazel... oh. They’re not brown. They’re hazel. His eyes. Swarming shades of honey and the green of early fall. So lost in them, you don’t even notice when you actually settle down and stop squirming.

“Good.” Oh. Good. Why were you waiting for—no. No, never mind.

“Where do you live?” he asks, and his breath smells like mint and sweet tea. “Tsukishima building, behind Mochi Matcha Cafe.” Your voice is low, because the notion that you’re going home has alerted you of how tired you actually are.

“Thank you,” you tell him as he puts you down in the car seat, still in disbelief at how tireless he looks after carrying you all that distance. “You’re welcome, miss L/N.”

You hated him just a bit more for that. Miss L/N. Why is he so formal and polite? He’s always worked you overtime, so why did he go out of his way to make sure you’re okay? It’s annoyingly perfect. It’s annoying.

◇◇◇

“On which floor is your apartment, miss—” Oh? “Miss L/N?” Nanami blinks emptily, staring at your sleeping figure. Now that he thinks about it, you’ve lost significant weight since you started. You barely eat, and you’re always drinking coffee like vodka shots.

You don’t even like coffee, he thinks to himself, but brushes it off. Damn it. This is all his fault. He overdid it.

He stares at you just a bit longer. At the way your unusually long lashes curl like a perked umbrella above your big eyes. The way your lips form into a pout when you sleep and the way your cheek is a bit squished in this position.

He reaches to your side and gently lowers your seat to make you more comfortable, and, goodness, he catches a whiff of your perfume in his nostrils and almost wants to never exhale.

He quickly settles back in his seat, and thoughtlessly reaches out to remove your hair from your face. Then, like he caught treasure, fists his hand and retracts it.

With a sigh, Nanami leans back against the headrest, and, without realizing it, falls asleep.

◇◇◇

You wake up with a stretch, only to wince once the pain in your ankle jolts up your entire leg. “Careful,” you gasp in surprise, turning to see Nanami in the car seat next to yours, and that’s when it clicks.

“Uh, sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” you say, looking around for your purse. The clock on the dashboard reads 12:14 p.m., and you halt your search.

“Is this timing correct?” you ask, careful not to jump to conclusions. “Of course,” he replies. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” you argue, then falter. “Sir,” there it is again, that ghost of a smile.

“You seemed tired.” It’s so frustrating. You want to punch him. Okay. Calm down. Just thank him, exit the car, and leave.

“Thank you. For everything, I mean,” you don’t even look him in the eye, and once again, you’re staring at the dashboard, the steering wheel, the leather seats, just... not at him. “You can at least look me in the eye while thanking me,” crap. “Miss L/N.” Double crap.

“Which floor is your apartment?” Is that... amusement you sense? Since when did he acquire that... “It’s on the fourth—wait, why are you—oh. No, absolutely not.” But it’s futile. He’s already out of the car, and already at your side, and already opening the door.

“Sir, I can’t possibly accept that,” there’s no hope in your tone, but you still feel the need to step your foot down. How ironic. “ 'Accepting' is used when it’s a term of offering,” he starts, and your eyes narrow to slits in annoyance. "But—"

And then his hands are on the roof rail and he’s leaning in, and his forearms are so... so—no. No. “I was not offering.” And on Nanami Kento’s lips, there is now a damn smile, and you feel the mouth of the bottomless spiral open once more, and you’re falling. Down. Down. Down.

◇◇◇

"Are we gonna discuss work on the way up? It'll be quite a walk." Nanami's smirk indicates human emotion, something you deemed him incapable of.

Is he enjoying your sarcasm?

"You are quite mouthful, aren't you, Miss L/N?" He corks up an eyebrow, and you chuckle despite yourself.

Nanami's grip on you tightens for a second, making you stiffen. Why is his face a pink hue? It's definitely because of the stairs. "I-I'm sorry to burden you, you really don't have to carry me all the way up, I can—" "Relax, you weigh nothing." And as though to prove his point, he hitches you up with one arm and uses the other to check the time on his wristwatch.

Oh.

"You're quite cocky, aren't you?" Oh crap. You were too caught up in your little moment that you forgot the dynamic. "Watch your tone." Despite the sternness of his command, there's a playful gleam in his eyes and in his tone.

Master list

[islesnap]

"i will gladly accept the curse. they were going to dismember you, i couldn't let that happen. if there is a next life, let us be happy."

hey so what if I throw up! /pos

[sukirichi]

WHAT A SHAME (02) . . . in which your office crush turns you down… or at least you think he did?

𐙚 — f! reader x salaryman! nanami

𐙚 — office au. co-worker au. fluff. romance. comedy/light crack. emphasis on light crack bcos bushes will become a topic. unedited. nanami is awkward at first but gets the hang of being a boyfriend eventually. communication king! kissing. inspired by that one art from tiktok where nanami does the one arm carry, it was so hot hnngghh. unedited as usual. 4.6K WC

part one

“The reason I turned you down, sweetheart, was because I was ashamed you asked me out first. I’d been planning to ask you out for a while now. I just… wasn’t sure you’d feel the same.”

Nanami meant it. He’d liked you ever since the moment you’d come up to him, lips pouting and cutely asking for help on something that wouldn’t take him more than minute to figure out. You were hardworking, honest, and most of all, dedicated. He knew how much courage it must’ve took to ask a co-worker for help, seeing as you were someone who didn’t want to inconvenience people. Sometimes, though, he’d intentionally send you over the most complicated sheets, if it meant you’d come over again – with that confused little pout, your curious eyes, and that damned, smooth voice he could never say no to.

You looked the picture of it now. Your jaw dropped, staring up at him like you often did – confused and utterly lost. Smiling to himself, he nudged it close with his palm. “Come on,” he said, slipping his fingers to intertwine with yours. “Let’s get you home.”

Your apartment wasn’t that far away, but you were so out of it and drunk beyond recognition, that you were swaying side to side. Murmuring stuff to yourself, he caught the words ‘dreaming’ and ‘no way in hell.’

It would’ve made him laugh if it weren’t for your wavering balance. Your body tipped forward, and his arm shot out to catch you behind your knees, lifting you with one arm until you squealed, arms circling around his neck. You gaped at him in shock, and he gazed back down at you with tenderness.

Until now, he still couldn’t quite believe how someone like you found interest in him. He wasn’t the most approachable co-worker, nor was he friendly. He’d heard words spoken through break rooms that the others found him difficult to talk to. He was aloof, kept to himself, and quite frankly, boring. He didn’t like to drink, didn’t like to stay up awake past ten PM (tonight would be the exception), and stuck to a rigorous routine that would make others roll their eyes back in their heads out of irritation. Whilst you… well, you were you.

You were bright, sweet, and beautiful. The first time you’d been introduced as the latest addition to the team, Nanami wasn’t ignorant to the way the men eyed you a little too close. He’d clenched his fists under the table then, and made a firm decision to keep his distance from you. He never did well with stunning women, much less those with laughs that sounded like angels singing, and ones who said his name as smooth as butter being spread on bread.

The last thing he wanted was for you to see beneath his composure – that he was utterly whipped, crushing on his co-worker who he may never had a chance with.

The fact that he had you here now, safely tucked in his arms until he was blanketed by your perfume and the faint scent of alcohol, still didn’t make sense to him. You could do so much better. You could date someone funnier, less strict. Yet somehow, he couldn’t find it in himself now to complain that he’d been the object of your affections. Not when his hand was a graze away from smoothing over your bottom, and your hiccups had turned quiet, head lolling to rest on his chest. Yes, he thought, silently cheering as you dozed off, I would like to be yours.

A sudden noise brought him back to reality. Eyes following the source of the sound, he found that your heels had dropped against the floor. He crouched down, careful not to drop you, and hooked two fingers over your shoes. When he arrived over at your place – the one with your surname on it – he paused, staring at your serene face once more.

“I need your keys, sweetheart,” he mumbled as softly as he could, not wanting to disrupt your sleep. “Can you get them for me?”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you twisted closer into his arms, your lips now dangerously close to his neck. His breath hitched upon your warm exhales fanning over his skin, a contrast to the late chill that had already bit at him. Still, he had to get you home. So he lightly jostled you awake, leaning down to press a kiss at the tip of your nose. You scrunched it, and reached over to lightly scratch your nose when your eyes finally opened. Registration settled, and you let out a loud hiccup – hard enough to jolt in his hold.

“Oh God, I can’t believe I’m actually taking you home,” you breathed out, covering your lips with your palms. Then, you slapped your forehead, and bullied your lower lip with your teeth. “I used to dream of this. Is it happening for real? Or am I just drunk right now?”

“I think I’m the one who’s taking you home.”

“Tomato, to-ma-to,” you rolled your eyes, blindly fishing for your keys in the coats of your pocket. Due to the close proximity, you struggled, occasionally whacking him in the jaw. After a few lazy attempts, though, you found the keys and handed it to him, allowing Nanami to step through the door and remove his shoes.

“Ugh, my head hurts. I don’t think I can go to work tomorrow. I wanna die…” you curled deeper into him, your mouth practically latched at the base of his neck. Nanami knew you were probably pressing against him to relieve the tension in your head. Not to kiss him, but the way his heart skipped a beat suggested that he really wouldn’t have minded.

With great hesitation, he pulled the covers back from your bed, and laid you down on it. You kept groaning as you smashed your head over the pillow. “You’re not gonna die,” he assured, already a step out the door as he wondered where to find your medicine cabinet. “You should change into your sleepwear. I’ll get you something to drink.”

Once he found an Aspirin and fetched you a bottle of water, he left it at your bedside table. He wrote a quick note about drinking it as soon as you can, and that he’d already left before you woke up. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t stay behind. He didn’t want you waking up afraid and confused that a man was in your space. And so he’d grabbed his own coat, fished out his keys, and headed for the exit – freezing when he caught sight of his own reflection through your mirror. There, at the base of his white collared shirt, was a smudge of lipstick. Your lipstick. Dazed, and with burning cheeks, he let his fingers graze over where your lips had been.

Nanami didn’t dump that shirt in the washer when he got home.

Nanami could barely sleep. He tossed and turned all night, worried if you’d rested well and about to text you when he realized he didn’t even have your number. Sighing, he threw an arm over his eyes, and tried to make the most out of the few hours he had left.

He didn’t know why sleep didn’t come to him. It was way past three in the morning, and he needed to wake by five for a quick run before he got ready for work. Maybe it was the alcohol – he drank very little – or the fact that he still smelled like your perfume. Realizing enough was enough, he went out for his run earlier, showered, and practically bolted to your apartment. He waited half an hour before your door clicked open.

You stepped out, fresh and bright-faced as if you hadn’t been slammed drunk last night. “Oh!” you exclaimed, “Nanami! I didn’t know you’d be here. I thought you’d left.”

“I did,” he said, matter-of-factly, scanning over your features to look for any signs of discomfort. When he found none, his shoulders sagged in relief. “I wanted to see for myself if you were okay. You said your head hurt a lot last night.”

“Yeah, I, uh,” you coughed out, locking your door behind you and falling into step with him. “I’m not used to drinking that much. Thank you, by the way, for taking me home and leaving out the Aspirin. It helped a lot.”

He nodded, unsure of what to say, but comfortable regardless with the silence that followed. You walked side by side, moving in pace with the early stream of salary workers heading to work for just another day. For Nanami, though, it wasn’t just that. It was more. He couldn’t stop himself from constantly looking at you, frowning when he saw your hands were deep in your pockets. He wanted to hold hands while you walked to work – just like lovers do.

But the more he thought about it, the more he hesitated. You weren’t even looking at him, content to look at anywhere but him. Each time he asked you a question, you startled, like you kept forgetting he was right beside you.

Did he get it all wrong? Did you not like him, after all?

Before he could ask – because he didn’t think he could go another minute of you avoiding him again – you’d quickly swiped your ID and headed for the elevators. “Thanks again, Nanami! See you later!”

His disappointment weighed him down all day. He sat hunched over his desk, constantly stretching his neck to get a glimpse of you. But it was as if you could sense each time his gaze would wander over yours, your head ducking into a pile of paperwork he knew you weren’t even reading. You’d pretend to be busy and click away on your keyboard frantically. So he was right – you were avoiding him. He just didn’t know why. Had he somehow upset you by barging into your home? Had he gone too far? Or maybe… you were upset because he didn’t stay the night?

Two cups of coffee later, he still didn’t have his answer. Nanami was no mind-reader, and he’d never in his life assume to know correctly what was going on through a woman’s mind. So he took the most logical solution to ask you himself. He found (cornered) you in the break room, hunched over as you and your friends conversed in harsh whispers.

“Hey,” he announced his presence, lips twitching at the way your shoulders stiffened. Seriously. His brows furrowed, dumping his empty coffee cup and reaching for the water station that was right behind you. His fingers brushed over your shoulder, and you winced, hopelessly staring at your friends who’d nearly jumped away the moment he spoke.

Drinking the water, he kept his gaze leveled with you. You didn’t look sick or hangover. Your eyes weren’t red, and you were just as radiant as ever. He ruled out the possibility of you being sick, and asked, “Do you wanna go out with me for lunch?”

The silence that dwarfed the room was comical. Behind him, he could feel your friends making ridiculous gestures that he couldn’t be bothered to see. He was only looking at you. Waiting for that sweet yes. Instead, you blinked up at him owlishly, pointing to yourself.

“Do I… wanna go out with you… for lunch?”

“I believe that’s what I asked, yes.”

“But why?”

“What do you mean, why?” he tipped his head to the side, confused. The other day, you’d asked him out for a drink. Surely his intentions weren’t that different with yours? Regardless, he clarified, and took a step closer in case you didn’t hear him right. “I’d love to share a meal with you. But if you’re uncomfortable, or you already have plans with your friends–”

“Oh no, we don’t plan on hanging out with her today!” your friend, Chieko, he assumed, laughed. She took her best friend by the arm and shoved you right into his chest, landing on him with a small oof. “She’s all yours! Heh.”

The other one, Aya, nodded eagerly in agreement. “Take her out for as long as you like. In fact, you don’t even need to bring her back. You can keep her!”

“Guys…” you groaned, but followed him reluctantly out the office.

Lunch break was nearly over, and you still hadn’t spoken a word. Barely. He’d brought you to your favorite restaurant, the one he often saw you dragging your friends into. He thought he’d made all the right choices, that he was being charming (somewhat), and yet you still wouldn’t look at him. You sat across each other, one hand fiddling with your skirt, and the other barely touching your food. Sighing, Nanami dropped his chopsticks and flattened his palms on his knees. His head lowered to a bow. He was going at this wrongly – he just knew it.

“Did I do something wrong? If so, please tell me. I don’t like that I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“You’re not,” you said, slowly, and lowered your own chopsticks. “Why would you think so?”

“For one, you’re avoiding me. Two, you’re picking at your food, and I’m pretty sure I ordered the right thing because I always see you eating soba,” he gestured to your bowl before straightening up, his gaze scanning the menu from the counter. “We can always order something else if I assumed incorrectly.”

“No, I-I’m great, thank you. I love it,” you stopped him from standing up. Hesitantly, Nanami sat back down, watching as you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “I didn’t know you noticed that kind of stuff…”

Was that it, then? His attention made you feel weird? If that were the case, he opted to keep his mouth shut and turn to more casual topics. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you,” you nodded, moving to pick up your chopsticks before stopping again. Groaning, you rubbed a palm over your eye. “Uhm, Nanami, about last night… I’m sorry you had to drop me off and see me in that state. I swear I don’t even drink that much. I usually watch what I drink, but… I guess I got carried away. I’m sorry again. You must’ve been bothered.”

“Not at all. You’re a sweet drunk.”

“Sweet?” you echoed the word as if it horrified you. “Fuck, did I say anything weird? I tend to say stupid stuff when I’m drunk.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Don’t worry about it.”

Your shoulders slumped. “Still, I feel guilty you’re buying me lunch when I should be the one doing so.”

Nanami froze. Did he get it wrong again? He’d insisted on paying, because it didn’t seem right to let you pull out your wallet and pay for your own food. If anything, that would offend him. Having to feed you and spoil you would be a great honor. But then again, what did he know? “And why is that?”

“Well, you know, I inconvenienced you last night and all–”

He leaned forward, his elbows digging into the table as he bore his eyes into yours. You, a convenience? Never. He’d gladly carry you home each night and never complain. (Although he would prefer if you didn’t get wasted often, seeing as you struggled with the hangover afterwards.) “You didn’t. I’m your boyfriend; taking care of you is only something I should be doing,” he stated, hoping that you wouldn’t argue with him on this. “And you don’t need to buy me lunch. I only want you to eat them with me.”

Your soba had been forgotten. You just gaped at him, eyes as wide as saucers. “What? Is the food not to your liking? We can move somewhere else–”

You thrust a hand up in the air, and shook your head. “–Sorry, can you just repeat what you said? Backtrack a little bit? I’m pretty sure I heard you say you were my boyfriend.”

“I am,” he licked his lips, his own gaze darting to your lips – something hot shooting down his spine as he saw that you were still wearing the same shade of the red, the imprint of it still left in his white shirt. He had to physically force the lump down his throat at the mere thought of it – your closeness, your almost kiss. Was it too early to be this greedy?

“I thought we made that clear already.”

You chuckled – sounding both nervous and shocked. “Uh, no, it wasn’t made clear to me at all. What’s clear to me is that you turned me down when I asked you out, remember?”

Everything finally made sense.

“Oh.”

Covering his mouth with his hand, he asked. “You don’t remember what happened last night?” when you shook your head, confirming his greatest disappointment, he sighed and straightened his spine. “Fine. I’ll tell you how it went. It seems that we had a bit of a miscommunication – I didn’t turn you down because I didn’t want to go out with you. I said no because I should’ve been the one who asked you out first. I’d been planning it for a while; you just beat me to it. I wanted to do things the right way and be the one to woo you, not the other way around,” he confirmed, moving to rub his lips with his thumbs as he fell deep in thought.

On one hand, it stung that you didn’t remember how much you’d clung onto him, like you didn’t want him to let go. But on another, it was a relief that you weren’t pushing him away out of dislike, but rather confusion.  

“I thought after last night, it would’ve been natural to say we’re exclusive.”

Your gasp was audible, even in the murmurs of the other customers and the slurping of noodles. “Ex…exclusive. As in, like, together together. Like we’re only gonna see each other from now on.”

“That’s what exclusive means, yes.”

“You want me to be your girlfriend?!”

“I want to be your boyfriend,” he corrected, heat already creeping up the nape of his neck at the implication. The responsibilities it came with (ones that he’d gladly fulfill), and pushed the words out with firm conviction. “I want to be the one who picks you up from work so I know you’ll get there safely. I want to be the first to hear about all your problems and solve them for you, if you’d like. Or I can just lend an ear if that’s what you need. And I want more of this–” he gestured between the two of you, “–buying you lunch, and maybe even dinner. I want all of that with you.”

Your face fell, and he felt his stomach sink.

“Nanami… you don’t have to do this, you know. I know you’re kind and you don’t want to hurt my feelings–”

“I think you’re overestimating my kindness.”

“I think you’re underestimating it.”

“Do I really seem like the type of person who dates people just because I don’t want to hurt their feelings?”

“Maybe, yeah, kind of…”

“Then clearly you don’t know me that well yet,” he announced, finding the conversation to done and the problem solved. Picking up his chopsticks, he scooped the noodles into his mouth and licked the remnants of the sauces away. And you watched, enraptured, how his tongue moved to swipe against his lips. He fought back a smirk, pulled out his wallet, and slid a bill to tip under his bowl. Lunch break was almost over. “Even more reason why we should date. You should get to know me better, and I can’t wait to learn more about you.”

Your eyes narrowed at him, but you couldn’t fool him. He saw the way your lips twitched at the corners. “Now that’s just unfair…”

“What is?”

“You just make it so hard not to like you,” you huffed out, tearing your gaze away from his and finally mumbling, “I’d… I’d love to be exclusive.”

“Then that’s settled,” he smiled – actually smiled – before slipping his calling card in your direction. “Here’s my number. Don’t hesitate to give me a call.”

You snorted, but took it from him anyway. “What is this, a business proposal?”

“Hmm,” he rubbed his chin in thought, his gaze looking impossibly intense as they honed in on your lips. “A proposal is too early, but I can definitely see it in the near future.”

“Well, how did it go?!”

Chieko and Aya had dragged you into the ladies’ room as soon as you returned from your lunch break. Flustered and a bumbling mess, a satisfied Nanami in tow. He’d leant down to whisper something in your ear, his lips brushing against the shell of it, and that was all it took for your stomach to be tumbling and the world to spin out of its axis. It didn’t help that he smelled damn good, either. Anyone who saw would think he’d said something erotic from the way you acted, when really, all he said was Let’s go home together later?

It took everything in you to not scream, your place or mine?!

Calm yourself, you steadied a hand over your racing chest, watching Nanami’s broad shoulders slipping back into his coat. He took one last glance at you, smiled – that stupid freaking smile! It was going to be the end of you! – and went back to his station.

“Someone hold my hand,” you choked out, grasping Aya’s coat and Chieko’s outstretched arms. Your breath came out ragged, your mind still processing everything that happened the past hour. “No, better yet, someone whack me in the head. Slap me. Anything!” Chieko’s hand met your forehead, and you stood straight, glaring at her. “Ow! What was that for?”

“You told me to smack you!”

“Not that hard!”

Aya pulled at her hair and let out a guttural moan. “You’re taking forever to get to the point! Just spit it out already!”

Chieko nodded, and you sighed, stretching your arms out to keep your friends at a safe space. Knowing them, they had a habit of hitting and slapping when overwhelmed. With both palms hovering over their chest, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. “Okay, this is gonna sound totally unrealistic but…” the girls waited with baited breaths, their faces glossed over with anticipation as you blurted out, “Nanami and I are dating.”

Chieko squealed right at your ear. You winced and covered your ears, letting yourself be swept into her embrace as she jumped up and down in joy. “I didn’t know you had it in you! You actually pulled the Nanami Kento? The office hottie?!”

Aya tried to soothe the commotion. “Okay, girls. It’s game time. No time for playing around. You know what you need?” she pointed at you, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose as her lips thinned into a straight, serious line. “A Brazilian wax. Men like him look so pristine and put together that you can’t possibly sleep with him bare and haired.”

“Is haired even a word…?” you asked.

“I was gonna say hairy, but haired rhymes with bare instead.”

“I don’t know,” Chieko shrugged, her brows furrowed as she pondered it. “He seems like the type who wouldn’t care about a little bit of bush.”

You grew flustered all over again. “Uhm, it’s been a while, so it may be a little bit more than just a bush.”

Chieko – bless her – had already made up her mind and was firm in her decision. “You have it all wrong. She doesn’t need to be waxed. A true ranger can navigate through a forest.”

Just at the right moment, a group of girls had entered the room and stared at the three of you, bewildered. Hiding your face in shame, you dragged the girls out and hissed, “Stop getting ahead of yourselves! We haven’t even kissed yet!”

Oh, how that was about to change soon.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur.

You could barely remember anything work related and was just adamant to head home. Once you’d clocked out, you found Nanami already waiting for you by the doors. You beamed at the sight of him, unable to control the way your heart leaped out of its chest when he returned the smile, casually slipping your bag into his arms.

The walk back home was silent, much like this morning. But everything felt different. The air was charged with an ecstatic energy. Nanami must’ve felt it, too, because his gaze never strayed far from yours. At one point, he’d grabbed your hand before you could put it inside your pockets to shield it from the cold. He stopped walking, raised your linked hands, and brought up to his lips, kissing each knuckle while his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Next time you’re cold, just tell me. I’ll warm you up.”

You felt so giddy. Your cheeks hurt from how hard you smiled the entire time. Everything about it just felt right – his hand in yours, his fingers tracing circles at the back of your hand. Walking hand in hand and talking about the most mundane things. It was such a shame you’d reached your place not long after, but it seemed Nanami wasn’t as put off by the idea.

Maybe because he knew this was simply the first of many things, the beginning of a story neither one was willing to end.

To prove his point, he’d backed you against your door until you were flush against it. His head came crashing down as his lips met yours, the musky and spicy scent of his cologne turning your legs into jelly. He was a paradox itself – his chest rock hard where your hands pressed up, his hands gentle and big as it cupped your face, his lips soft and sweet as he kissed you hard enough to make you think of it again and again. You kissed him back, nearly inhaling the scent of him. Throughout the kiss, you could feel the both of you smiling, his soft chuckles reverberating against your skin. And after a sweet minute, you both had to catch your breath, foreheads touching and noses bumping.

“We seem to be having a lot of firsts today,” he said, basically reading your mind as you pouted, already fishing for your keys. “First time holding hands, first time kissing. Do you take me seriously now, or do I still need to reassure you that we are, indeed, exclusive?”

You playfully slapped his chest. Much as you wanted more of him, your legs were close enough to giving out from underneath you. “I don’t think I can handle more of you today.”

“Not even another kiss?” he teased, stealing one quick kiss anyway. And this man, this tease of a man, pulled away just as you began to kiss him back. He pulled away, enough to see the want shamelessly painted over your face. “You seemed like you wanted more. Was it not enough for you?”

“Nanami…”

“Kento,” he kissed you again, and your eyes fluttered close at the delicious way his lips boldly claimed yours. Proudly, and now so confident that he had you like putty in his hands. “Kento. Say my name.”

“Kento,” you relented, and hid your burning face by leaning on his chest, feeling his body shake with his soft laugh. “Don’t tease me!”

What a shame, indeed – that you didn’t confess earlier. But none of that mattered now. Everything happened at its right time, and Nanami was the right person – the one waiting for was worth it.

[namjoohyuk]

jang shinyu, every ep

[insiderzx]

Sosuke Aizen

[erenstshirt]

Apologies

A bit late, but a piece for his birthday :)

With the snow piling up outside, Byakuya was immersed in his seemingly endless duties. During storms, specifically, his headaches fog his brain and turns his thoughts to TV static.

“Bya-kun, would you like some soup? I was thinking since there's a storm and your headaches are usually—” your sentence is abruptly cut by him. “No, I don't feel like eating soup. I had some leftover lunch earlier, so I'm not hungry.”

“Oh, okay.” You say in a choked voice, hoping he didn't catch on. “If you need anything, tell me,” you add before you excuse yourself to the kitchen where you munch on some crackers and conclude it enough of a dinner.

◇◇◇

“I'm going to the store to get some groceries for tomorrow's dinner.” You tell him as you put on your shoes, having a feeling you're going to regret putting on a skirt in this weather. You've already been feeling drowsy because of your shrinking appetite this week, and the sands in the hourglass are running low until your period.

“What dinner?” This is it, you think. The last drop before the cup overflows from pent-up emotions. “Maybe if you talked to me once this week, you would've remembered.” You wish your voice were loud and assertive, rather than tittering at the edge of tears.

Byakuya doesn't even have time to respond before you walk out and shut the door. He slumps back on the couch, face in his hands, as he ponders over the past week.

Yes he was busy, overwhelmed, and exhausted, but he forgot he should've run to you instead of isolating. He felt like a fool, undeserving and unappreciative. But that doesn't mean he'll just sit idly by and excuse his behavior with a few words of remorse.

The first thing Byakuya does before following you is informing Rukia and Renji that the dinner has been postponed, and the second thing he does is run after you.

He finds you walking mindlessly in the middle of the snowy road, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand; something that makes his heart drop to his feet. You hear footsteps behind you and turn around immediately with a gasp.

“Hey, hey, it's me, sweetheart.” You inevitably pout while trying to hold your tears back. “Why are you here, you should be resting,” you tell him, and his heart all but squeezes to a pulp.

Your eyes are red and swollen, face thin, and cheeks feverishly red, and yet, you're worried about him. “My blossom… I'm so sorry.” He sighs, head bowing in remorse, but eyes looking up to meet yours.

Byakuya is about to reach for your hand when you turn around and start sobbing uncontrollably, your control snapping and emotions floating like a bundle of balloons.

He immediately grabs your hand and reaches for your shoulder to turn you to him with the other. “Please don't cry, I don't like to see you cry.” This makes you sob even more, and Byakuya immediately regrets pushing you further.

“Sweetheart I'm so sorry I didn't mean to make you cry even more—” “So you still love me?” You hiccup as you wipe your tears and lift your face.

“I never stopped loving you, and I never will. Don't ever think that.” His hand cups your face, and you nestle into his hold as you sniff and try to calm down. “You're burning up too much. Let's get you home, and we'll talk when you're better, okay?”

Your head starts shaking in refusal, “No, I want to talk to you now,” your words start slurring, and Byakuya's face starts waving silly. “Byakuya, I think I—” and then you're almost a limp body in the snow. However, Byakuya immediately pulls you to him, wraps his coat around your body, and lifts you into his arms.

“Let's get you home, baby,” he whispers in your ear before dropping a kiss on your forehead.

“I'm okay.” You try arguing, in hopes of getting him to put you down. Your, obviously burning yet, trembling body coaxes tears out of him.

The after effect of disappointment in the redness of your eyes sets a weight on his heart as his lips curve downwards. “You're not okay, blossom. You're terribly sick. Let's get you to bed, yeah?” He drops a kiss into your hair, and the exhaustion makes you give up on arguing and slump against him; letting him hold you.

◇◇◇

Byakuya lays you down gently, taking off your sweater and putting you in a light t-shirt instead. Your pale hands grab the blanket hurriedly to cover yourself, but he takes your hands off it. “We need to bring your fever down. I'll get you some cold patches, okay? Stay here.” Without answering, you turn to your side, curling into a ball.

Byakuya stares as you tremble, lying down in a fetus position to try warming yourself up. The skirt is clinging to your thighs like a second skin, the little hairs on your nape and forehead sticking to your skin from intense sweating. Your pretty eyes are red and welled with tears, and lips swollen from sickness. And yet, he thinks how you look as gorgeous as ever. And the ravenette feels as guilty, as ever.

“I'm so sorry, blossom.” His hands ball into fists as he rushes out of the room and into the kitchen. He fills a small bowl with water and ice cubes, dipping the dark brown rug into it.

“Sweetheart, turn around.” He taps your shoulder, leaning forward to look at your face, only to find you asleep. Grabbing your shoulders gently, he flips you on your back, squeezing the rug of excess water and laying it on your neck.

He hears a small yelp as you shiver, grabbing at the sheets of the bed. Byakuya heads to the door, grabbing his keys and putting his jacket back on, while he waits for someone to pick up the phone.

“Yes?” The person from the other end of the line asks. “This is Byakuya Kuchiki, I'm calling to inform you that I'll be taking a few weeks off. Thank you.” The man doesn't even wait for an answer, immediately ending the call and heading to the pharmacy.

A few minutes later, you wake up to the sound of rattling keys. The patch had fallen off your neck, and you stand up to see what all the sound is about. “What are you doing getting out of bed like this?” The tall male is quickly by your side, his arms protectively gripping your fragile body.

“I'm fine.” You deadpan, not meeting his gray eyes that you love so much. “You're not fine, blossom. And I'm so sorry. I took a few weeks off.” He drops soft kisses on your cheek, “I bought you medicine and food.” His hand extends out to yours, and you hesitantly take it while staring up at him with a frown.

After laying you down again, he grabs you a cup of water and the bags he bought. “Here, some chicken porridge, and the medicine.” He puts them on a bed-table in front of you and opens up the food packaging. “Careful, it's a little hot.” He warns, blowing on the spoon as he lifts it to your pale lips.

His eyes soften as he looks at you, and he can't help but tuck the fallen strands behind your reddish ears while his thumb caresses your cheek gently. “You're so beautiful. You don't deserve what I did. I'm so--” “You can stop apologizing, love,” You put your hand over his, giving him a reassuring smile.

“Also, I'm full.” His eyes grow wide as he arches an eyebrow, “No. You have to finish all of this. So you can take your meds.” You shake your head slowly; scrunching up your nose.

“You will.” He states, dipping the spoon into the plate. “No.” You whine, but the man doesn't budge. Finally, you roll your eyes and part your lips, taking the food in while staring at him.

For some reason, it makes a small rush of chills rise on his skin. “Be glad you're sick, blossom.” At his raspy sentence, you start coughing lightly as you swallow.

“Here, your medicine.” He holds out the pill sheet and water cup. “Drink all the water, okay?” You nod, doing just like he told you.

His hand pats your head, ruffling your hair gently as he reaches for your hair tie. “Turn around, I'll tie your hair up, and then you can sleep.” Your heart tumbles, a warm smile etching on your lips as you twist around, your back to him.

“I'll prepare a nice bath for you when you wake up.”

He kisses your temple as he gathers the soft locks of hair. “Thank you, love.” A giddy smile falls on his lips as he taps your shoulder so you know he's done.

“Are you…are you going back to the barracks?” You sniff, trying stubbornly to get air into your stuffy nose. “No, I told you. I'm taking a few weeks off for you, blossom. So, front or back?” With a tired laughter, you lay on your side, “Back.” With a nod, he lies down behind you, pulls you to him and rests his chin above your head while his hands wrap above your chest and around your waist.

“I'm so sorry, _____.” Byakuya says once again, kissing your hair. “Mmm, it's okay. I love you. So much.” You put your soft hands over his as you assure him. “I love you. So much. My Blossom.” He whispers in your ear, and feels you shiver. It makes him chuckle, “Shh, get better soon first.” The ravenette teases as he presses another gentle kiss on the top of your head and pulls you closer.

More.

[animeaestheticsthings]

Define aura.

[erenstshirt]

Shunsui Kyōraku HCs

• Every afternoon, you and Shunsui would open the doors of your room for the soft breeze to dance in, and you proceed to lie down on top of him as you take a nap.

“Where is he…” you mumble, seeing as he's unusually late to the late noon nap. You sigh as you follow his spiritual energy around the long road of the serietei, your frown growing deeper as you walk farther.

“Shunsui?” You call out, standing in the middle of an empty grass field. You barely have time to register his presence behind you before his arm is around your waist, lifting and taking you away.

You squeal in surprise, hands immediately wrapping around the arm on your front. In a second, you find yourself standing around a field of Sakura trees, with your beloved quietly beside you.

Shunsui watched the shimmer in your eyes and awe on your pretty face, a soft smile making its way to his lips. “Nap?” He asks, and you giggle as you turn to look at him. It was indeed, a perfect place for napping. “But, isn't the sun a bit too bright?” You ask, tilting your head to the side as you look up at him. Shunsui takes his hat off with one hand, and pulls you to him with the other as he falls to the grass.

“I got you, petal.” He assures, placing his hat on your head and keeping his hand there, whilst the other stays curled around your middle.

• Shunsui is a very impassive man, but even to that, there's a limit.

It has been a long day for him, from meetings to trainings, and he wanted nothing more than to go home to you. However, just on his way back, Shunsui's heart almost drops to his feet at the sensation of fear within your spiritual energy.

One sonido step and he's behind the barracks where you are, surrounded by two lowly shinigamis who don't seem to withhold the ability to define boundaries nor personal space.

“Do we have a problem here, gentlemen?” Their legs wobble like TV static, their tongues too heavy in their throats. “T-taichou, we were just hanging out with her.” Their voices are simmered down, almost a whisper. “It looks to me like you're making my girl uncomfortable,” his face is stoic, completely void of expression.

“We would never—” “But you were,” you answer, taking heart in his presence. “I'm an officer who's just beneath a promotion to a possible lieutenant, I can—” “A dead man can do nothing,” Shunsui's statement makes you shiver down to your bones.

Instantly, the two men vanish from your sight, and the relief has you falling to your knees. Or rather, almost falling. But he's got you. He's got you and his hands immediately grab your arms to lift you up.

“It's okay, my love, they can't hurt you.” The tension parts from you as he hugs you to his broad build that you find comfort in; smelling like Sakura and home.

As soon as you fall asleep nestled in his arms that night, Shunsui gently untangles himself from you and quietly leaves the room. He makes sure those two low lives remember what happens to whoever dares touch you.

• There's nothing that Shunsui loves more than teasing you, and quite frankly, he's good at it.

After the battle with Aizen, the sight of Shunsui's wounds has tears swelling up in your eyes. Your hands tremble as they come up to touch him as he's lying down while getting treated.

“Whatchu crying for, petal?” You sob even harder, your vision almost blemishing wholly. “I never thought I might lose you,” you say between hiccups. Shunsui starts chuckling as his hand reaches up to cradle your face.

“Why are you even laughing?!” You yell as you smack his shoulder unconsciously. Shunsui groans and shuts his eyes, which has your hands flying to your mouth as you start muttering apologies.

“Oh no! Oh no, oh dear. Oh, crap. I'm sorry, I didn't even—” you pause, your sentence cut short by his hard laughing. “You know what Shunsui? Die!” You say as you turn around to leave. But he's grabbing your hand quickly, pulling you back and twisting it behind your back.

“You're going to leave me wounded and alone?” The pout on his face looks so enticingly slap-able, but you try your best to remain calm. “You seem to be fine, seeing as you're joking and locking my arm behind my back effortlessly.” You snare, which has him chuckling.

“Is that so? But I'm truly in pain.” His brows furrow, in an attempt to give you the glassiest puppy eyes possible. “Oh piss off!” You push at his side, and this time the noises of pain sound genuine.

“I'M SORRY!” You yell, while he lets go of your wrist to hold his aching side. “It's okay petal, stop apolog— oof that hurts,” He huffs. “You're going to be the death of me,” you say in defeat before rushing down the hallway to find Unohana.

• For such a big and authoritative man, Kyoraku Shunsui is a very clingy man.

“I have training,” You try to reason, hands miserably failing at pushing him off you. “But I'm your captain,” his words are mushy, half his face squished on your tummy. “You've canceled the training the past two days Shunsui,” you try to reason, but he doesn't seem to budge.

“Have you heard the saying, 'Third time's a charm'?” You can't help but giggle at the question. “I heard Rukia-Chan saying it the other day, it's a very common human saying.” Shunsui looks up at you as he hears you sigh, hoping he won you over.

“No… No. I'm not giving in to this. We can spend time together after I'm done.” You promise, but Shunsui turns a deaf ear to your words. He simply yawns and nestles his face more comfortably into the flesh of your tummy.

“Seriously. I'll tell Yama-taichou.” He simply chuckles at your threat. “That's if you can get out of my arms first,” the easiness of his response that displays security in himself makes you blush…and well, you give in.

• Shunsui's inner poet emerges to the surface from the shadows, whenever alcohol seeps into his system.

“Your eyes, your eyes smile my lovely petal, did you know that?” He asks in surprise, your face squishes between his large palms. “I think I was enamored by you before I saw you,” his voice is unsteady, drunk as it gets.

“How ij jat poshible,” your words are barely comprehensive, considering you looked like a duck. Shunsui smiles, this oddly attractive drunken smile, and he has this sleepy love-sick look in his grey eyes. “I was walking with Ukitake, and we were walking, walking, and walking,” his hands leave your face, instead making random gestures as he narrates the story.

“Then, the weirdest thing happened,” his eyebrows lift, and you're now intrigued more than ever, inching closer as if this will make him talk faster. “What's the thing?” You ask curiously.

“I heard you laugh,” he says before starting to laugh too. “Why did you have such a sweet laugh? I'm not a man who blushes, but I blushed!” He exclaims, like he's a lawyer demanding the judge to be righteous.

“Ukitake still teases me about it, and it's all your fault,” Shunsui shakes his head. “Shunsui?” You call, and he lifts his head to look at your face. “Stop that,” he says, hand covering his eyes. “Stop what?” You blink confused.

“Stop being beautiful, I can't be falling for you again,” you laugh, and it has his pupils zooming out in astonishment. “I love that laugh,” he points at you, a drunken smile on his lips. “And I love you,” the poor man lowers his hat down to his face wordlessly, as his other hand rests over his heart.

[hjunsjoy]

The gang is what I trust.

[erenstshirt]

Hate to Love You ft. Kuroo Tetsurou

You don't know the exact term to use for describing your relationship with Kuroo Tetsurou, but you're sure it's not an amicable one. With the way you keep getting on each other's nerves at every chance you can, you wouldn't be surprised if you were to find him pinned on top of you with a knife lodged to the tender skin of your throat one night.

Did it start when he got a higher grade than you and you both started eating up books like a ripping machine in aim for the first rank? Or was it when you first beat him in a race and won the medal at the school festival?

Your compass can't exactly pinpoint the precise initial, but it doesn't really matter. Because several years later, at the prime age of twenty-five, right as you find out you just signed a four-year working contract with him, you feel all the bottled emotions—none of which are positive— resurface.

“Ma'am, this is Mr. Kuroo, I hope you two get along well for the next few years.” The very sweet and polite girl, Misaki, says with a bow before leaving you with the insufferable man and shutting the door.

Your body jolts despite itself, and despite the door shutting with the gentleness of a flower. “Well well, just the person I wanted to see.” He says with a hand covering his chest, melodramatically.

“Wish I could say the same,” you put on a painfully obvious fake smile and bat your eyelashes. The smirk on his face before he stands up has your heart dropping. The radars in your head start blaring in alert of the high risk of mischief.

“What do you say we put the past behind us and try to cooperate as peaceful colleagues?” He says as he extends his hand, and suddenly there's the incessant urge to twist it and make him holler in pain.

But you can't. Because not only is he on your team for the next few years, but it's also futile to even think you can land a hit on a man of his sheer height and size.

You despise it. He gets to look down on you, and you're forced to crane your head to look at him. Just how much more miserable of a fate you have to suffer? “I have a feeling I'll regret it,” you answer in a clipped tone.

You hesitantly reach your hand out to him, and the contact sends a jolt down your spine. This has to be the longest handshake ever; however; the eye contact with the man before you is hopelessly spellbinding.

“Trust me, sweetheart, you won't.” One would've thought Kuroo is one word away from getting slapped across the face after using an endearing term to call you, but the flush of your ears and cheeks have him resting easy.

“Well, would you look at the time? I don't want to be late for the meeting, ciao” you say in such a sweet tone you could've fooled anyone. Anyone but him. He chuckles as he watches you walk out the door without sparing him a second glance.

◇◇◇

Your feeling proves true over the course of the first few months. Constant bickering, arguing, disagreeing, and dare you say…teasing. From finding your coffee mug on the shelf that oh so conveniently happens to be out of your reach, to you agreeing to an idea until you find Kuroo is the mastermind behind it.

It was endless. Hopeless. And not to mention frust— “Hey, y/n,” your coworker, Tachibana, cuts in on your trail of thoughts. “Hey, Tachi-kun,” you answer with a smile. Just as he's about to answer the phone, Kuroo notices the two of you and sets the phone back in his pocket.

“I was wondering if you have any plans later today,” you can see the blush blossoming on his cheeks, and you sigh internally. He's such a sweet guy, but he's just... not Kuroo? No. No, that's not it. He's simply not for you, was the word you've been digging for.

“She does,” a smooth voice that you know all too well, cuts in. “There's a hangout for the team later today at Sushi bento downtown.” His voice is leveled and serious, but you can just feel it. You can feel the deceiving undertones and slyness his tongue carries.

“Oh, I wasn't aware we had that,” Tachibana's eyebrows lift in genuine confusion. “It must've slipped my mind.” Kuroo taps his head, and the tingling urge to grab his hair and smash it on the table's surface is so enticing it burns.

“Well, now that you know, you can't miss it.” He winks at you before grabbing your coffee mug and sipping from right where your lipstick stain is. This man will be the death of you one day.

◇◇◇

“Kuroo san? What can I do for you?” Kuroo bites his lower lip to suppress his laugh. “Send a message to the team's group chat that we're having a night out at Sushi bento later today,” he orders while swiping his thumb like a wiper over your lipstick stain.

“But what if—” Kuroo doesn't let the man finish his sentence before adding, “If anyone questions it, say you forgot. And tell them it's mandatory. I'll deposit 1k into your account right now,” the man collects himself and dumps away all the rambling that was sitting right on the tip of his tongue.

Kuroo's office door flies open like a military invasion was placed upon him, exactly ten minutes after the little situation. This time, he doesn't bother suppressing his laugh. “Don't glare at me like that, you were going to reject him anyway,” he quips before standing up.

“You don't know that,” you fire back, cursing the damned audacity of this man, despite him being correct. “I do though, he's not your type,” his nose scrunches, as if the idea of you together is a repulsive display of mundaneness.

"Oh yeah? What makes you think you know what my type is?” You know you're done for when his caramel eyes narrow and his hands halt their nonchalant movements. Kuroo turns to you and starts walking, and it's instinct for you to walk backwards.

“You think I don't know what your type is?” His voice is low, almost threatening. You want to grasp at your chest in hopes of quieting the thrumming of your heart. You want to paste your hands to your face to hide the color, creating a hue on them.

You wish to push him away, but that would starve you of oxygen. Though, you weren't really sure if you're breathing heavily, or you're not breathing at all. He's close, he's so close his chest could push your heart back in if it tried jumping out.

“Where'd all the attitude go, kitten?” His tone is malicious, eyebrow perched high in satisfaction. Was this the day you'll lose to Kuroo? No. No, that can't be right. “Move,” your weak voice might as well have been a sigh.

“Didn't quite hear you,” he leans his head in, warm breath feathering your ear. You don't realize the little whine you let out until he chuckles. “Is he your type?” His voice is heavy with feigned cluelessness.

One hand grips your wrist, and the other drifts above the side of your neck, the tips of his fingers barely skimming it. And yet, you find yourself burning; aching. You want to mold yourself into the wall behind you and lean in to his touch concurrently.

Your vision blurs, mind blanking as you shake your head in answer. “That's a good girl,” he taunts, and you barely manage to hold in the gasp in your throat and reform it into a gulp instead. “See you at eight, sharp.” It may have sounded sweet, but you know it's an order that you're forced to listen to.

This day certainly won't end well….will it?

◇◇◇

If Kuroo thought his little show was a point for him, then so be it. You're going to take that point back, and double it while you're at it. You put on a white and backless cami dress, dotted with little red flowers. You pull your hair into a ponytail and make sure to put on the best red lip gloss you own, and Kuroo's favorite.

Everyone who knows Kuroo Tetsurou, knows that red is his weakness. With your crisscross white sandals, you're good to go.

You can feel the point you lost in the afternoon return to you as you watch the change in Kuroo's expression when his eyes catch you walking in. He feels dazed yet furious. You look ravishing, and the way the dress hugs your body, the way your eyes twinkle and you smile with that damned lipgloss on your damn lips, he's a goner.

Furious he is as well. With the way every man, and even woman, is oggling you with either desire or envy, has him teettering on the edge of insanity. Do you want him to have a heart attack in the middle of the restaurant? Is that your revenge? Because it's unfortunately—for him, working.

His heart claws at his ribcage as he notices you walking towards him. HIM. Him before anyone else. Before that lousy tachibana. Before your colleagues. Him. With the mischief glimmer in your eyes that remain fixated on his, not fluttering nor shying out even once.

"Good evening, Tetsu," Tetsu? You just decided to go first base names with him now? And with a little nickname too? "I wasn't late was I?" You give him your best puppy eyes, and the poor man feels his tongue in his throat.

"No," his reply is clipped. "Didn't quite hear you," you lash back, standing on the tip of your toes and leaning in, making sure he gets a good inhale of the perfume you have on. His eyes flutter closed, and he's at a loss. He can't help it. He simply couldn't resist inhaling your sweet scent that drives him crazy.

"Glad I didn't disappoint you, sir" his eyes become the size of saucers, and his index instinctively hooks into his tie to pull it loose. He just paid for his doom, he thinks. May mercy fall upon his poor soul.

◇◇◇

In hindsight, he should've planned more carefully. Should've made sure not to invite that damn Tachibana. Or maybe he should've handcuffed you to him the moment you walked through the door. Maybe then he wouldn't be stuck listening to the blabbering of whatever her name is, nor have to endure watching you laugh to whatever lame joke Tachibana was throwing your way.

As soon as you excuse yourself to the restroom, Kuroo barely counts to ten before following suit. He waits outside, and as soon as you emerge, he's at your heel. "Y/n," you shiver unconsciously at the use of your name, especially with this specific tone he's using. "We need to talk," his seriousness makes you swallow nervously. "It can w—" "No it cannot." He ends the negotiation.

"Five minutes," you state, crossing your arms assertively. He sighs as he grabs your arm and leads you to the back of the restaurant. "Hey wait, where—" you go quiet when you realize he's just taking you outside.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" You pull your arm out of his hold and frown at him as soon as you make it out the doors. "Why are you mad? You were the one who made this whole meet up!" You wave your hands around. "That doesn't mean you can just go and flirt with that boonless guy," For the first time, Kuroo's voice is anything but calm.

"This "guy", has a name, for one. And why can't I flirt with him when you almost had that woman sit in your lap?!" Your chest heaves as you finish your sentence. "You're unbelievably maddening," he says through gritted teeth.

"Oh yeah? Then go back to that woman and I can go back to—" he's in your space in a second. Time stills. You hear the last drop of water fall before everything goes quiet. This time, the forces of nature bind you together. It's unescapable.

You're in each other's breathing space with no way out. So close there's no more room for running nor yelling. "Do not even think about it," this time, it's a full on threat, nothing to decipher or question. "It's none of your business, Tetsurou," he shuts his eyes in bliss.

He's so close, he's so close he could just lean in and break the height difference and then...yeah. You can see the white flag floating above your head in defeat at the realization. The realization that you're predictably, awfully, and wholly in love with the madman before you.

"I hate you," the lie rolls out so naturally, it makes him laugh at the absurdity of it. "Damn you y/n, I hate you more," he says before devouring you. Your lip gloss smears all over his lips, and the years you've endured wondering what the other's lips taste and feel like are over.

No more wondering, no more thinking, no more imagining. Just feeling. Feeling his lips hungrily swallow yours, suckle on your bottom lip, and his tongue slowly work its way in to touch your own.

"Mine, y/n." He rasps, "You are mine and mine alone," his hand's grip tightens on your waist and the other tugs at your hair. He's just simply, completely, and utterly in love with you, and this realization is ten years ago, today.

Somehow, the day did end up more than well.

Read More.

[maxieurekaevermore]

Me patiently waited for Shoko to use the reverse curse technique and heal Gojo .

[bitchycode]

January was a tough year but we made it

[erenstshirt]

I've been thinking about starting Writing comissions. You can send any scenario you have in mind with the character you want, and I'd bring it to life. The difference between comissions and asks is the detail of character instead of a y/n with characteristics from my own vision. This will allow more depth for the writing.

Would you guys be interested?

Yes

Not really

Voting ended onJan 7, 2024