#Blunt Fringe

[outrageousmenshair]

Or high rimmed breakfast bowl?

[outstandingmenshair]

Mate! Mate! Your tee’s missing a word… I’m pretty sure there should be an ‘Instant’ above that!?

[robinsnest2111]

the store didn't have the hoodie in the size I would've preferred (gonna try to order online later) BUT LOOK

fresh haircut (it's giving medieval baddie) and a kickass samurai darth vader shirt I just couldn't pass up <3

[wikiblair]

I am currently watching S04E01 of My life is murder and one of the suspect is a hairdresser. So Alexa decide to go there and give herself a new haircut. Said hairdresser is looking at her hair and says thoughtfully " Have you ever thought of going dark with a blunt fringe?" And when I looked what kind of haircut is that I was ROFLing hard :D :D. Ah Lucy :D. I am starting to suspect that theese jabs for us in the script are your work :D.

[octaviasdread]

living a modern tragedy

(hairdresser did fringe bangs not long curtain bangs like I asked for)

[daezedglownut]

Don’t get me wrong I LOVE my new haircut, but the feathered fringe is just… not doing it for me :/

Spock fringe again it is >_>

[wewontbesleeping]

ok. I think. For real. I’m going to grow out my bangs. like for real this time.

[outrageousmenshair]

And how you look after letting your mate convince you he could do the same thing for free.

[outstandingmenshair]

Hi. Dominos? Yeah, I’ll take the Hawaiian please. Yep, to go.

[robertreich]

Let me just come right out and say it: I love @BernieSanders. While many in the Democratic Party appear to be asleep, Bernie is leading the charge against the Trump regime. His "Fighting Oligarchy" tour is spanning the country and drawing massive crowds in Republican leaning districts. He's tapping into the anxiety that so many of us are feeling. And he's energizing us to stay engaged in the fight we're in right now — and the fights to come. Why do I love Bernie? I love his authenticity. Some people like Donald Trump because he says whatever he wants and he’s an asshole. Bernie’s authenticity comes from saying what he wants and speaking the truth. And although he’s blunt, he’s anything but an asshole. When he growls “this grotesque level of income and wealth inequality is immoral,” he means it. And he’s right. I love Bernie because he’s a true populist — a word that has gotten a terrible rap since Trump but should be redeemed. It means for the people and against the powerful. Trump pretends to be a populist, but he’s always wanted to be one of the powerful and has forever been in their pockets. Bernie is a true populist. I love Bernie because he has almost single-handedly changed the national conversation — turning proposals that had once been on the Democratic fringe into respectable, and in some cases mainstream, Democratic positions. Creating jobs by rebuilding infrastructure. Providing free tuition at public universities. Breaking up the big banks. Guaranteeing workers paid medical and family leave. The policies no longer seem far-fetched. I love Bernie because even at the age of 83, his indignation hasn’t faded. Nor has his energy. I love Bernie because he has more guts than any politician I know. Hell, he has more guts than just about anyone I know. Bernie — thank you for continuing to fight for a better world. I'll be right there alongside you, friend.

[sunflowersandscreams]

I got sk mad at him i cut my nice little curtain bangs WAY too short

[neverendingford]

.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

(C'mon, baby) light my fire

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 2

Prompt: Fireplace

Rated: T

Tags: Getting together; Flirting; Sexual tension; Eddie is a horny shit; He also has a competency kink

Eddie’s eyes are stinging.

There’s tears streaming down his cheeks and soot on his face and ash in his hair. He’s pretty damn sure he singed his bangs. He takes a desperate inhale, breath rattling in burning lungs, and blows out another stream of air. 

“C’mon,” he wheezes. “Shit, c’mon, please.”

The log crackles and gleams red-orange, and his heart soars- … and then it turns gray again. 

“Motherfucker!” Eddie swears, flopping down into the stupidly soft, white sheepskin rug. He probably got ash on that, too. 

He wastes a few seconds staring morosely at the dark fireplace. 

When Steve suggested this little retreat to his parents’ log cabin (of course the Harringtons own a private fucking log cabin, he doesn't know why he was even surprised), he thought he'd spend a relaxed few days. Chug a few beers, smoke a blunt or two, ogle Steve in his stupid, cozy sweaters while the firelight danced on his skin. Indulge his silly crush a little. 

And then the others all canceled. Something about Robin needing to take care of a sick aunt, and Nancy being offered an important internship, and Argyle and Jonathan… well, he isn't sure what they're up to. He stopped listening by the time Steve asked if he would be fine with it being just the two of them. 

Surely, this was a sign. The universe telling him to finally make a move. An opportunity too good to pass up on. 

So he agreed.

They drove out in the Beemer, Steve obnoxiously singing along to Wham and Eddie pretending he was anything but enamored by his smiling face against the backdrop of the snowy landscape flying by. They arrived and unpacked their stuff, and Steve insisted Eddie take the master bedroom, like the perfect sweetheart he is. Then, he took Eddie outside and made him sit down while he chopped firewood. 

Dear God, he chopped firewood. 

Eddie thinks the image of Steve swinging that ax, getting progressively more flushed and sweaty, breath fogging around him in the winter air, is gonna stay ingrained in his memory for the rest of his life. Not that he's complaining. 

When they came back inside, Steve excused himself to have a shower. And maybe it’s because an idiot, or maybe it’s because half of his brain was occupied watching the tiny bead of sweat clinging to the tendon on the side of Steve’s neck, but Eddie told him to take his time, he’d get the fireplace going in the meantime. In his mind’s eye, he was already picturing the two of them on the fuzzy sheepskin rug, huddled together under one of the knitted afghans. Laughing, talking, and munching on s’mores, soft music playing in the background. Slipping his hand into Steve’s, watching a whole different kind of blush spread on that handsome face as he leaned closer to finally, finally show him exactly how he feels. 

It sounded like a great fucking plan. 

Except for the part where he obviously can’t light a fire to save his goddamn life.

He’s just wondering if maybe he should call Wayne and ask for help when the bathroom door clicks shut behind him. 

“Oh hey,” Eddie rasps, voice all hoarse and scratchy from inhaling too much smoke, “Fire’s almost-” 

And then he freezes. 

Steve stares back at him, eyes wide with concern, brows almost disappearing under the swoop of his wet, disheveled fringe. He’s wearing the same light-wash jeans from earlier, and a towel around his shoulders. 

That’s all. 

“Eddie?” he asks. Like he’s surprised to see him here. Or maybe like he isn’t sure it’s him at all. He’s probably hard to recognize with all the soot on his face. “What are you- … What the hell happened?” 

“Nothing,” Eddie says. There’s tiny droplets of water hanging off the tips of Steve’s hair, running down his collarbone, catching in those glorious tufts of chest hair. He must be cold. Eddie should pull him down in front of the crackling flames, tell him he knows just the thing to warm him back up. Except he can’t get the goddamn fire lit. “Fire won’t start. Your wood must be soggy or something.” 

Steve’s eyebrows, impossibly, climb higher. His mouth twitches into a grin. 

“Hey now,” he says. “I didn't invite you here to have my wood insulted.”

Eddie thinks that maybe he should hurl himself into the fireplace, ignite the damn log with the force of his blush. While he’s still busy sputtering and wrecking his brain for a witty reply, Steve huffs a soft laugh and pads over on naked feet.

“Here, let me,” he says, snatching the pack of matches from Eddie’s limp fingers. He fiddles around for a bit - the specifics of what he does are admittedly lost on Eddie, who is too transfixed watching the way Steve’s ass strains against the confines of his jeans. Seconds later, the room is filled by the light of a small fire merrily crackling away. 

“Oh, fuck you,” Eddie wheezes, tugging a strand of hair in front of his face to hide behind. It’s littered in gray flakes of ash. Steve smiles and reaches out to brush them away. 

“One thing after the other,” he says, and maybe it's the heat of the fire, but Eddie imagines the blush makes a reappearance. “For now, how about you finally kiss me?” 

“I'd love to,” Eddie says. “Except I probably taste like charco- oooh, wait, whoa, hold on a sec, what the fuck do you mean?” 

“I mean,” Steve says, leaning closer and bracketing his hands on Eddie’s thighs, “that I went through all the trouble of arranging this, telling the others to stay away, putting on that little show with the ax … You'd think I deserve a reward, right?” 

More holiday drabbles

Turns out he was wrong, Eddie thinks as their lips brush and they topple down into the fuzzy rug. Someone has definitely been sending him signals - it just wasn't the universe. 

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Do you have any notes on hair and hairstyles by any chance?

Writing Notes: Hairstyles

Some writing tips to describe your character's hair:

Frame your character’s face with a hairstyle that reflects their story. A crewcut might signify a military soldier or someone who likes to be in control. A ponytail or pigtails might indicate a young character. Describe a character’s hair color—black hair, dark hair, brunette, redhead, blonde, gray, or white—in interesting ways instead of just stating the shade. It makes a difference whether your character dyes their hair or keeps it its natural shade. Describe the length of their hair. A confident businesswoman might have short or shoulder-length hair. A musician might have longer hair. Match your character’s hairstyle with their personality.

Make facial hair an element of a character’s style. How a male character keeps his facial hair is telling. If he’s constantly clean-shaven, he might go to a regular corporate job. A bit of stubble can signify a more casual career. From a beard to sideburns to a goatee, facial hair helps paint a picture of a male character and can help represent their life and what they do.

Write detailed character descriptions. Visualize a character in your own mind. Make them three dimensional by fleshing out both the character’s personality and physical appearance. Write down their physical details like hairstyle and hair color—do they have brown hair, blond hair, or dark hair? Describe how they move through the world and hint at what their body language and mannerisms reveal.

Here are some words to help you select more precise language and improve the clarity in your writing:

Descriptive Words to Describe Hair

Hair Texture. Relates to the circumference of individual hairs as well as the curl pattern and general state of the hair, with regards to how it looks and feels.

body, bouncy, bristly, brittle, bushy, coarse, crinkly, delicate, downy, fine, flat, fluffy, frizzy, fuzzy, glossy, lank, limp, listless, luxuriant, luxurious, medium, nappy, no body, puffy, rough, satiny, silky, sleek, smooth, soft, sticky, stiff, straight, straw-like, supple, touchable, velvety, wavy, wiry

Hair Thickness. This means the same thing as hair density. There are a number of terms for how thick a person’s hair is.

lush, scraggly, sparse, stringy, thick, thin, voluminous, wispy, wooly

Hair Styles or Cuts. Properly describing how hair is cut or styled is critical in describing the appearance of a character in a story or the subject of a work of nonfiction.

afro, a-line, angled, asymmetrical, bangs, beehive, blunt, bob, bouffant, bowl cut, braided, braids, brushed back, bun, buzzed, center part, chignon, chopped, choppy, clipped, coils, comb over, corkscrew curls, cornrows, crew cut, curled, dreadlocks, ducktail, emo, extensions, face-framing, feathered, fishtail braid, flat top, flyaway, french braids, french twist, fringe, Jheri curl, kinked, layered, long layers, loose, military cut, mohawk, mullet, natural, pageboy, parted, pigtails, pin curls, pixie, plaited, pompadour, ponytail, Rasta, rat tail, ratted, ringlets, shag, shaved, side part, slicked down, spiked, spiky, spirals, springy, stacked, straightened, swept back, swept to the side, swept up, teased, topknot, trimmed, twisted, undercut, up, updo, waterfall braids, weave, wedge, wings, wrapped

Hair Length. Hair can vary greatly in length. Choosing the right descriptive word for hair length helps readers get a better picture of the character or person about whom you are writing.

cascading, chin length, close cropped, cropped, ear length, flowing, long, medium length, mid-back length, neck length, short, shoulder length, tailbone length, trailing, waist length

Hair Color or Tints. Since there are many hair colors in different tones, some natural and some not, it’s really important to choose the right descriptive word for hair color.

ash brown, auburn, black, bleached blond, blonde, blue, bluish, bottle blonde, brown, brunette, burgundy, burnished, chestnut, coppery, dark, flaxen, ginger, golden blonde, gray, green, honey, jet black, light, mousy, multi-colored, natural blonde, oil slick, ombre, peroxide blonde, pink, platinum, purple, rainbow, raven, red, salt and pepper, silver, strawberry blonde, streaked, sun-kissed, sun-streaked, wheat blonde, white, yellow, yellowing

Treated Hair. There are a number of treatments people can use to alter the appearance of their hair.

bleached, body wave, brassy, colored, conditioned, deep conditioned, dyed,frosted, highlighted, highlights, lowlights, permed, relaxed, smoothing, tinted

Messy Hair. There are a number of ways to convey to readers that a person has messy hair. Whether the individual’s hair is messy due to a lack of care, general unruliness, or having been engaged in activity that caused it to become messy, choose the right word so readers will understand.

bad hair day, bedhead, clumpy, disarray, disheveled, drooping, knotted, matted, overgrown, shaggy, snarled, tangled, tousled, towheaded, uncombed, uncontrollable, unkempt, unmanageable, unruly, unstyled, untamed, untidy, windblown, windswept

Neatly Styled Hair. Some people take great pains to ensure their hair is the exact opposite of messy. Use these terms when you want to describe someone with neatly styled hair.

blown out, coiffed, coiffured, done, neat, runway-ready, tamed, tidy, well-groomed

More Ways to Describe the Appearance of Hair. The categories listed above aren’t all inclusive when it comes to describing hair.

beautiful, brushed, classy, clean, combed, damp, dirty, dripping, dull, elegant, enviable, fashionable, filthy, gorgeous, greasy, healthy, luscious, lustrous, nourished, shiny, singed, slick, soaked, squeaky clean, stylish, sweaty, trendy, vibrant, voluminous, wet

Words to Describe Hair Problems. There are a number of different hair problems. If the person or character you are writing about has a visible issue with his or her hair, be sure to choose the best word to describe it.

alopecia, bald, balding, bald patch, broken, damaged, dandruff, dry, flaky, fried, hair loss, lice, needs a touch-up, nits, oily, overly processed, pattern baldness, receding, roots are showing, shedding, split ends, thinning, thin on top, widow’s peak

Hair Accessories. Thoroughly describing a person or character’s appearance may require giving some information about hair accessories the person is wearing. Choose the best term to describe any items placed in or on the individual’s hair.

ball cap, barrette, beret, bobby pin, bow, butterfly clip, chopsticks, elastic, feather, flower, hair clip, hairpin, hat, headband, headscarf, kerchief, ribbon, scarf, scrunchie, side comb, snap clip, sweatband, tiara, tieback

Names of Hair Tools. When you need to describe what someone uses to style their hair, be sure to accurately describe the type of tool the individual uses.

blow dryer, clippers, comb, curling iron, diffuser, dryer, duckbill clips, fine-tooth comb, flat iron, hairbrush, hot rollers, rollers, round brush, scissors, thinning shears

Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ More: Notes ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs ⚜ Facial Hair

Hope this helps with your writing!

[sugurusfavemonkey]

say you'll be my darlin' - kento nanami (1/2)

mosaic ceilings, painted tiles on the wall i can't help but feel somewhat like my body marred my soul handmade beauty sealed up by two man-made walls when's it gonna be my turn?

valentine's day special summary: you've never had a valentine, but kento intends to change that part 2

Some may say Kento Nanami is a reserved man, perhaps even aloof. Both sentiments are easily endorsed due to his unwavering straightforwardness and tendency to avoid certain impracticalities. And still, his detachment and bluntness weren't nearly enough to stop him from falling.

He tried, he really did, to keep his emotions in check: compartmentalized and separated from his work life, but nothing could have prepared him for the whirlwind that you brought forward within him. When it came to you, that task was easier said than done.

You were never put off by his stoicism, quite the opposite. You saw his bluntness as honesty and his sobriety as a virtue. Never mind the fact that you found his candor amusing more often than not: his sarcasm easily brought laughter out of you, a chuckle when you were accompanied by others, or sometimes giggles you would try to hide behind your hand. Nanami found each of your reactions charming and if you saw the corner of his own lips lift into a subtle smile and his eyes soften behind the lenses of his glasses as he stored the image as a souvenir in his brain? No, you didn't.

Where typically Nanami would have no problem focusing wholly on his work, a small portion of his brain was constantly thinking back to you. How you've managed to steal all that space and become permanently etched onto his normally single-minded psyche no one could tell.

It didn't help that his infatuation had taken a more physical turn as of late. The curve of your smile, the way your nimble fingers played with the cuff of your shirt, the glow in your eyes... Every aspect of you had Nanami completely enraptured. He had to restrain himself, honeyed eyes ensnared to your every move, hands aching to feel your skin, arms yearning to hold you, desire burning like molten lava through his veins.

There was no denying it, Kento Nanami was completely and utterly in love with you. Now, if only admitting that was as easy as it had been falling. Instead, words failed him for your presence had him feeling like a teenager who had to hide under a thick fringe of hair all over again.

The opportunity to finally confess his devotion (or at least an idea of how to shape the admission) arose on a particularly slow Wednesday.

One of the perks of having his eyes constantly seeking you out was recognizing the faintest changes to your demeanor. Nanami immediately noticed how your posture sagged slightly, the furrow in between your brows, your frequent sighs, the mug of coffee left untouched slowly going cold, even the way your smile didn't quite reach your eyes that morning. It bothered him profusely to know something was causing you torment to an extent his own mood was diminished.

"Something wrong?"

"Huh?" You looked up at the sound of Nanami's inquiry, your brows furrowing even further.

Your eyes got momentarily lost in the flex of his exposed forearms as Nanami dropped the paper he had been reading through on his desk and followed by removing his signature glasses to reveal enthralling syrupy hazel eyes focused solely on you, likely intending to give you his full attention.

"You seem... preoccupied today."

That gave you pause. The sentiment Nanami expressed - the articulated concern - wasn't unusual. His uncanny ability to be acutely aware of your wavering moods easily contrasted with his habitual detached persona. Sometimes you wondered if he was genuinely worried or merely being polite.

"You know me so well," you chuckled under your breath, gaze wavering. With how easily you got lost in his eyes it was challenging to keep up the eye contact when they were unconcealed like that. You sighed, "it's nothing important, don't worry about it."

He tsked condescendingly, "If it's bothering you that means it is important."

You nearly snorted at that, not because his declaration was funny but because you didn't have to look up to know it was accompanied by that skeptical and judging expression of his. You did look up anyway, and your next words jumped out of you before you could think them through, "How are you even real?"

Despite his guise, Nanami had never once been mean to you. On the contrary, he always seemed to have words of encouragement ready for you. You wished more people took notice of this side of him.

"I'm sorry?" His confused frown and slight tilt of the head was nothing short of adorable. You smiled and shook your head dismissively before propping your chin on your hand as you rested your elbow on the table in front of you.

"I was just thinking about this Friday," you explained with a small shrug as the fingers of your other hand tapped against the wood rhythmically.

His low hum carried a touch of raspiness characteristic to his voice as he regarded you contemplatively, most likely expecting you to further expand your line of thought.

You succumbed under Nanami's unwavering perusal and eventually unraveled your inner turmoil:

"it's just... I've never had a Valentine," you paused to gauge his reaction, eyes flitting over his face for the slightest change in expressing and opting to continue when there was none, "on Valentine's Day."

Maybe there was a slight twitch to his brow or maybe it was just your mind playing tricks on you (for he remained just as still as a statue), but Nanami gave you no other indication he had even heard your outburst. He was definitely judging you. You slid down your seat, burying your face in your hands.

Nanami felt his hands twitch, the need to reach out and comfort you almost too much for him to bear.

"Fuck, how pathetic is that?" You laughed deprecatingly, peeking at him through your fingers, "That probably sounds like such a silly concern to you. I shouldn't have annoyed you with it. Sorry."

"Don't apologize. That does not sound silly. Or pathetic. Like I've said, if it's troubling you, it's a legitimate concern." the deep and rather stern tone he used had you sitting up, mouth slightly agape. "I can't help but wonder though... how come you've never had a valentine?"

"What do you mean?"

Nanami leaned back on his chair, crossing his legs and bringing his hands together on his lap and a shiver ran down your spine as his gaze glided over you from head to toe before returning to your face.

"That outcome just seems rather unlikely. Objectively speaking, you have a lovely personality and you're obviously a very attractive person."

You gaped at him, unsure there had ever been another time he had outwardly complimented you like this. Sure he would sporadically praise you for a job well done or on your improvement, but never something so personal. And then you were laughing because you'd rather not unpack whatever he could have implied with that, less it drove you crazy.

"You really are too sweet, Nanami," you pretended to wipe imaginary tears once your laughter died down. "I think as a child and through my teenage years I went unnoticed and then as an adult it was mostly a matter of timing. I'm always single this time of the year. Just unfortunate coincidences I guess," you shrugged.

"Well, who's to say this year won't be different?" his piercing gaze finally relented when he spoke, legs uncrossing and hands searching for his glasses. It was clear the conversation was over.

"I doubt that," you snorted. "Thanks for acknowledging my concern though. I do feel better about it." For what it's worth, the weight on your chest felt less heavy, both thanks to his accidental pep talk and uncharacteristic positivity.

"I'm always glad to be of service" to you left unsaid.

"Anyway," you clapped your hands together before using them as leverage to push yourself up and started picking through your belongings, even though you knew you would need none of that. "I better get back to work 'cause I'm not being paid to lazy around. You're an angel, Nanamin. See you around!"

He was definitely avoiding looking as you walked out of the room because you certainly wouldn't have said that had you been able to witness the vile images constantly permeating his head and tainting his thoughts.

It's not like he hadn't been watching the tantalizing sway of your hips and the enticing curve of your neck peeking from underneath your shirt from the corner of his eye when you walked into that same room earlier that day though.

Shaking those pesky thoughts, Nanami focused instead on the plan already forming on his heads, the gears turning as he deliberated on his new goal: be your valentine.

Friday came around too soon for his liking, but the plan had already been set in motion. Even though you consistently flustered him, Nanami couldn't recall a time he had been quite as anxious before.

He had been not so patiently waiting by the window, shoulders stiff, impassive expression, crossed arms and fingers of his right hand tapping continuously on his left bicep.

The setting had been arranged just right for your arrival, but his scheme wasn't without fail. There was one small hindrance Nanami forgot to take into account: Gojo.

"Look what we've got here, someone has a secret admirer!" his cadence was unmistakable as he crossed the threshold to the office alongside you.

You stopped on your tracks, gaping like a fish at the voluminous arrangement of blooming red roses in light pink tissue paper set on your desk.

"What the- What's all this?" You put your hands on your waist and turned to face the mam beside you, "Gojo, I swear to god. If this is your idea of a prank-"

"Not me, sweets."

"Then who-?"

Nanami cleared his throat, finally calling the attention of the bickering duo to himself. Seeing him promptly causes your annoyance to face into a bright grin,

"Hi, Nanami! Almost didn't see you there!"

Which he would have corresponded hadn't it been for the white-haired nuisance standing by you.

"Nanamin! My favorite office worker dropout." Gojo smiled and opened his arms widely as if expecting a hug, only to receive a deadpan instead, the vein at Nanami's forehead close to bursting. Gojo lowered his arms, a pout on his lips.

"Gakuganji is waiting for you," it's what Nanami went with as a greeting.

"Ha! That old geezer could die waiting for all I care." Gojo dismissed the assertion. He leaned forward, one long finger swiping underneath the band of his blindfold to pull it up on one side, and winked at the blonde sorcerer, "but I will leave you two lovebirds alone, if that's what you want."

After snapping his headband back into place he was off to bug someone else.

You strolled over until you stood face to chest face with Nanami and reached a hand to smooth the lines between his brows, "with the way Gojo irritates you, you'll look like an old man in no time if you don't relax a little bit, Nanami."

His entire body seemed to loosen up at your touch - jaw and fists unclenching, eyes softening, shoulders falling. It worked like magic and you didn't even know.

"I'll try my best."

You stepped back, cringing as you became mindful of his personal space which you had just trespassed with no warning whatsoever. Yet, you thought better not to acknowledge it and instead held onto the strap of your bag with both hands, using it as an anchor, and pointed your chin to the flowers.

"Any idea who's behind the roses?"

"I am."

"What?"

"I wanted to gift them to you for Valentine's Day."

"Oh. Oh!" A smile slowly built as the surprise sunk in, "that's such a sweet gesture. Thank you, Nanami!"

He nodded once, lips parting and closing briefly as if unsure of how to proceed, "you know, I consider myself a very eloquent man, but you make it very difficult to express myself.... to find the right words. I even considered leaving a letter along with the flowers, but I believe some matters are better said in person."

"Do I make you nervous, Nanamin?" you teased, head lolling to the side playfully.

"Please, don't call me that."

"Sorry," you winced, scratching at your wrist, "Yuji and Gojo's antics rub on me sometimes. I'll go back to Nanami."

"I'd prefer if you called me Kento, actually."

Now, who's making who nervous?

"Alright. Kento."

He straight out gulped as you carefully enounced his name, almost as if caressing the sound. Kento cleared his throat, eyes flitting to the ground and then back to your face.

"And yes, you do make me nervous."

You bit your lip to suppress a proud grin. Was it too soon to mention you liked the idea of making him nervous?

Nanami took a deep breath before saying your name, "will you be my valentine?"

"I'm- Really?"

"If you will have me, that is."

"Kento, I'd like nothing more."

"Well, in that case, would you like to have dinner with me tonight to celebrate the occasion?"

"Sure, that sounds lovely."

"I want to cook for you, but I didn't want to be presumptuous assuming you'd be comfortable going to my home on our first date so I also went ahead and made reservations at a restaurant, I can even send you a copy of their menu if that would make you less anxious."

That was the closest you had ever seem of Kento rambling. Maybe he had been nervous, after all.

"First date, huh?" You chuckled, swaying back and forth in your giddiness. "You could never make me uncomfortable, Kento. I'm fine with dining at your house tonight."

"Excellent. I will pick you up. Is 7 a good time?"

"It's perfect."

"I'll let you get back to work then. I look forward to tonight."

"So do I."

He smiled briefly before strutting to the door. You were so hypnotized by the way his shoulders flexed underneath his suit that you nearly forgot:

"Kento!"

"Yes?" He stopped and turned to you right as he reached the door, one inquisitive brow lifting above the edge of his glasses.

"The flowers are beautiful."

You had been applying the finishing touches to your look when the intercom ringed. You cursed and tripped trying to reach the offending electronic as if Nanami would give up on you if you left him waiting.

If only you know he would wait forever if that's what it took to have you - Kento was a patient man.

"Yes?" you answered cheerfully. His resonant voice called your name in question, making sure he had the correct apartment.

"Hey, Kento. I'll be right down!"

You rushed out the door after picking up your purse and keys and basically flew down the stairs.

You slowed down as you reached the lobby of the building where you could see Nanami standing on the other side of the glass doors, hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored pants, his biceps bulging in the sleeves of a clearly ironed crisp white shirt and undercut visible underneath his brushed back blonde hair. All you could think then was that it was Valentine's Day and that man was waiting for you.

Nanami turned when he heard the door unlocking and watched as you stepped outside. He breathed your name in wonder, appreciative gaze taking in every detail of you.

"You look absolutely stunning," his voice came out breathy.

"I could say the same of you."

He offered you his arm to guide you to his car, and you took it, treasuring the opportunity of testing if his arm felt just as solid as it looked (it did).

Like the gentleman he is, Kento opened the passenger door for you, but instead of taking the offered seat, you turned to face him and stood on your toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek. When you got back to the sole of your feet you could see the dust of red looming from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

"You have a beautiful smile. You should wear it more often," you commented casually even though the palm of your hands were clammy and your throat dry.

Only then you did enter the car, a satisfied grin painting your face at the sight of a flustered Nanami as he closed the door after you and walked around the vehicle to take his spot as the driver.

Of course he drove an austere German luxury car, the spotless silver undoubtedly recently polished and the inside looking just as pristine. You would have thought it was brand new if you hadn't felt his expensive cologne in the leather seat or if you couldn't see his blunt sword on the back seat through the rearview mirror and keys and water bottle on the center console.

The drive was filled with quiet conversation as you filled each other in on how you spent the day: you complaining about paperwork, him praising Ino and Yuji. Nothing outside of usual.

The conversation never dimmed, if anything it only picked up once you made it inside his apartment. He opened a bottle of wine and handed you a glass, pointing you towards one high stools by the island in his kitchen so you could watch as he finished off the dinner he had left half-ready before picking you up.

It all felt familiar, safe.

And the sight of his broad back and tiny waist accentuated by the apron tied around it was not half bad of a view.

You were slightly tipsy by the time he finished putting together the salad and the oven beeped announcing everything was ready.

"Gosh, it smells heavenly!" You commended after a particularly strong sniff of the delectable aroma reached your nose.

"Hopefully, it tastes just as good." Nanami chuckled as he removed the roasted chicken, bread rolls and vegetables from the oven and took it to the table. You took that as you cue to follow after him to the dinner room.

He had set the table previously to your arrival with plates, glasses, cutlery and napkins for two. The decoration consisting of flowers and candles.

You settled in comfortable silence as you ate, you leaving complimentary comments and delighted hums with each new flavor you discovered and Kento taking it with gracefulness until both of your plates where cleared.

"You've outdone yourself, Kento. When I mentioned my lack of valentine I really expected nothing out of it. Thank you for making this day less sad for me."

Nanami gifted you with a soft smile, one you didn't think you had ever seen on his lips, his eyes squinting lightly with it, "it was my pleasure."

His soothing disposition gave you the courage to continue:

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You already did."

"Imma walk out that door, Kento." you threatened, but Kento knew it was in jest. Still, he relented:

"Please, do ask a second question."

"Are you doing this out of pity? Because I was moping about never having a valentine?"

Kento regarded you curiously, the lack of glasses letting you read him easily than you would have usually, but not without some challenge, considering most of his expressions were kept to a minimum.

"What do you think?" He questioned softly.

"I think," you stopped and used the hold you had on the stem of your cup to twirl the remaining liquid inside of it, "you've never went out of your way like this for anyone. At least not for as long as I've known you."

"That would be correct." He nodded once, almost proud of you for reaching an accurate conclusion.

"So why are you doing so for me?"

"Because I want to," simple as that.

"Because I have a lovely personality and I am a very attractive person? Objectively speaking, of course." You parroted his earlier words with a playful smirk.

"Perhaps I haven't expressed myself clearly." Kento leaned forward, his hand reaching yours across the table, probably to stop your nervous fidgeting and bring your full attention to him, "I think you are lovely. And beautiful."

"Hmm... Is that so?"

"Spending this Friday with you is the farthest thing from charitable. I'm doing it out of my own selfish desires."

"I'm still not convinced. It's just that... earlier today you said I made you nervous, but you've been the picture of composure all night. Even your place looks impeccable despite the fact that you spent hours cooking," You explained your doubt, but your voice wavered as his thumb started caressing your knuckles back and forth.

"Don't let the image fool you. That's a facade. I'd like to think after a couple of years I've became a pro in disguising my flustered state around you."

"That's... a long time."

"Upon our initial meeting, your beauty was the first thing I noticed, and then just how charming you are."

"That just can't be right. What, you just immediately knew?" You mentally cursed yourself for your eagerness, shaking your head, "you know what? Don't answer that. I'm just fishing for compliments now."

"And I'll gladly shower you in compliments for you are deserving of them. It wasn't immediate, no. I believe these feelings came to fruition with small interactions throughout our daily lives because I've come to perceive how kind, passionate, and intelligent you are through them. All qualities I strongly admire."

"Well, I think you are all that but also honorable, wise, generous, and dependable. Not to mention very, very handsome."

"Is it safe to assume you feel the same then?"

"Oh, more than safe."

"Good."

"You also make it very difficult for me to lower my standards. Because not only you're incredible, but you also can cook? You have to teach me how you do those bread rolls!"

"I've actually got the recipe from a local bakery. Is where I buy bread more often than not, considering our hectic schedules. They have a great assortment of pastries as well. I'll take you there another day."

"Is this your way of asking me out on a second date?"

"No."

Your face fell, surely you hadn't read all of this wrong?

"I'd like our second date to be more romantic than that. That's me asking you out for a casual outing. Perhaps as your boyfriend?"

You could have hit him and his stupid smug smirk as relief washed over you.

"Yes, this is my way of asking you if you'll allow me that honor." Kento answered your next question before you even had time to formulate it.

part 2 (AKA the smut) here

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