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7-3-softie · 2 months ago

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Coke in the Midas Touch

UPDATED: 10/1/24

This is my first ever attempt at writing for the JJK fandom, specifically for my favorite 7:3 ratio sorcerer, Nanami. So, I hope I did the character justice. (This is also my first attempt at writing smut after having many years of reading it, so please be nice).

Summary description: Nanami Kento, after having left the Jujutsu society in exchange for a normal job as a salaryman, encounters the new hire at work who slowly becomes the object of his affections the more that she becomes the office scapegoat; Villain!Nanami.

Disclaimer: Please keep in mind that I am not Japanese, nor am I an expert in Japanese work culture. So, if there are some things wrong, or inaccurately portrayed, I do apologize.

Content warning: use of Y/N, reader insert is afab and referred to as such, sexual themes, sex between characters, violence between characters, adults being overgrown children and should behave better at their grown ages but they don't, toxic work culture, pawa-hara culture.

WC: 12.7 K (it's a novel, I'm sorry)

Minors Do Not Interact

When Nanami Kento first laid eyes on her, he thought that she was unassuming.

On her very first day of work, he remembers that she was stood at the front of the office with the associate manager of the sales department, making the standard introduction of any new hire.

“Hello! It’s a pleasure to meet you all! My name is Y/N! I will try to do my best! Please take care of me!” Which was then followed by a full 45 degree bow at the waist.

He noted that her eyes were bright and filled with some semblance of hope. Nanami also cynically wondered how quick it would be for the corporate overlords, demanding deadlines, and lack of work-life balance to crush her spirit.

He had only been at this company for the past two, almost three, years, but he was already jaded to begin with.

She was assigned to be under his supervision for the training period, which Nanami found to be somewhat irritating. It wasn’t anything against her, he just knew that he wasn’t exactly the nicest person in the office, nor did he have the patience to deal with new hires. Somehow, they always ended up under his direct supervision for training purposes. Maybe it was his superior’s way of tormenting him given the fact that he refused to engage in the locker room talk that the male employees would have about the female staff or that he didn’t partake in the after work get-togethers at the local bars where they would all drink themselves silly. Or maybe it was his superior's way of letting him know that he was doing a “great job” by giving him more tasks, because they knew that they could count on Nanami to do proper work.

Nanami would like to think that it was the latter. However, he knew better than that.

“Your desk is located over here, by Nanami-san. He’ll be the one that will assist you with your orientation period.” She’s led over by the associate manager to the empty desk that sits beside Nanami. “If you have any questions, refer to him. He’s been at the company for the past several years and has done a fine job of it.”

Nanami gets up from his desk to greet them as they approach. “You speak too highly of me, Akiyama-buchou,” Nanami rebukes, attempting to remain humble. His eyes fall from associate manager Akiyama to the new hire. “Nanami Kento. Pleased to meet you.” He bows.

She bows, holding a box of items. “Pleased to meet you!” her voice chipper.

“Now, before I leave, do you have any questions for me?” Akiyama asks her.

She shakes her head. “No, sir.”

“Alright, well, I’ll leave you to it, then.” He promptly turns away, heading to his desk that was sectioned off in his own private office, leaving both Nanami and the new hire.

Alone. Somewhat.

Together.

She turns to face Nanami, placing the box of personal belongings on her desk, a small smile still on her face. “So…what should we get started on first?”

And thus, began a somewhat tentatively professional relationship between Nanami and the new hire. Every time she saw him first thing in the morning when the both of them were coming into the office, she would be quick to greet him with a cheerful: “Good morning, senpai!” that would be followed with vigorous waving. She always attempted to make conversation with him whenever she could, included him in small talk with other coworkers around the office, got him coffee whenever it was her turn to do the coffee runs even when he didn’t request anything or want anything in particular (and she wouldn’t allow him to pay her back for going out of her way). When the days would end, if she were to cross paths with Nanami while on they’re way out, she would give him that same vigorous wave while saying: “Have a good night, senpai! Get home safely!”

Nanami wasn’t entirely too sure if she wanted something out of him or if she was just this nice all the time. Given, however, his previous experience with seeing the worst out of humanity and in the dealings of curses and cursed energy by proxy as a jujutsu sorcerer, could one really blame him?

Then again. Would it be too terrible for him to consider that maybe, just maybe… that out of all the shitty people in this world… that there was at least one good person that existed to make up for it?

Maybe he was getting ahead of himself.

“Good morning, senpai!” Nanami was greeted by her in the break room while he was getting a cup of coffee from the communal coffee machine.

Nanami glances over his shoulder to look at her. “Good morning.” He keeps his responses short.

There’s a small silence that follows between the two of them, the only sounds being the steady drip of the coffee machine and the whirring of the employee communal refrigerator. For Nanami, the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was actually welcome.

“Nanami-senpai.”

He turns to face her, holding the cup of coffee in his hand, staring at her quizzically.

“There was talk…about wanting to go out after work for drinks, and I was wondering if-”

“No, thank you. I’m not interested.” Nanami’s response is immediate, as if he doesn’t have to think twice about it. He’s beyond accustomed to rejecting the offers to spend time with his co-workers outside of work.

The next words die in her throat as soon as she hears Nanami’s dismissal. A sinking feeling of dejection fills her chest as Nanami rejects her offer, but she’s quick to push the feelings aside, trying to not let them deter her mood.

“May I ask you something?” Nanami can sense the hesitancy in the question, almost as if she were afraid to ask it.

“Sure.”

“Forgive me if this is too forward, but why is it that you never care to partake in festivities outside of the professional setting? I mean, I’ve seen you reject offers from other colleagues around the office, higher-ups like Akiyama-buchou, and even offers from Fumiko-senpai! And she’s one of the prettiest women in the office!”

Nanami squints his eyes in confusion. “Wait, how did you hear about that?”

“She talked about it one morning while she was at the copier with Aiko-senpai. I was within earshot of their conversation. She seemed pretty upset by it.”

I would have thought that she would have taken the hint by now, given the fact that this is the fourth time that she’s asked me out, and it’s my fourth time rejecting her, Nanami thought sullenly to himself. Nonetheless, he answers her question. “Listen to me, Y/N-chan, I’m not here to mix my personal life with my professional life. I’m simply here to clock in, do what’s expected of me for my role in this company, and clock out so I can earn enough money to make at least a decent living in this hellscape of a society. Nothing more, nothing less.”

She shrinks back just a tiny bit as he speaks, fearing that she may have crossed an unspoken boundary that he had set for himself. She continues with her questioning. “And… What about what the superiors think? Doesn’t their opinion of you matter in the long run of your employment here? I mean… don’t you want to move up in the ranks?”

“To be frank, I could care less about what they think. They already take up enough of my time here, they don’t need to take up anymore outside of my working hours. I hate overtime.” He turns to leave the break room, realizing how much time he’s wasted there in the breakroom, talking to her. He needs to get back to his desk.

“Nanami-senpai,” she says, almost bewildered. There was a hint of admiration behind it though. To her, he had a backbone that she could only dream of.

He pauses at the door, his hand on the knob. He glances up at her over his shoulder, a somewhat cynical glint to his eyes. “To put it lightly, Y/N-chan, there are worse things out there than upset higher-ups simply because you told them ‘no’.” His mind flashes back to seeing the bodies of his dead friends on cold metal examination tables in the morgue room of Jujutsu Tech. The wails of curses and dying humans echo in his ears as he reminisces on his times as an up and coming Jujutsu sorcerer, but he doesn’t dare falter.

She nods, her gaze landing on her hands that were intertwined together, digesting what he had to say. “I understand, senpai.”

There’s a pregnant pause before he faces the door again, his hand turning the knob on the door.

“No… no, I don’t think you do, Y/N-chan.”

He opens the door to see Fumiko outside. He gives her a small polite smile and a nod before making his way around her to get back to his desk.

Fumiko watches as he leaves, a look of longing on her face. She turns to look at Y/N and a surly look crosses her face. She enters the breakroom, heading to the coffee machine with an empty mug in her hands.

The tension in the air was thick enough that either one of them could cut it with a knife.

Fumiko didn’t say a word to her, but Y/N knew that in her heart of hearts that she’s done something terribly wrong to grossly piss one of her seniors off.

At first, it started off small.

Her orders were conveniently forgotten when the coffee runs or lunch runs were being made. Other office workers started to hand off their assignments to her, making her workload three times what it originally was supposed to be, making late nights a near constant for her. Anytime something went wrong in the office, to miniscule things like if if the copier ran out of ink and it wasn’t replaced as quickly as possible, to major things like if certain papers or documents weren’t delivered to another department in a timely manner, then she would be a scapegoat for the blame.

She didn’t say a word about it to anyone, however. It’s not like she was in a position to be complaining about it. She knew that if she were to say anything, then she would be called “ungrateful”, “lazy”, and that “she should be lucky that any job decided to hire her on”.

Nanami noticed fairly quickly what was going on and found himself to be disgusted by the behavior of his co-workers. This wasn’t the first time that a stunt like this was pulled on the new hires. There was an old mentality that still existed of newcomers needing to “prove themselves” or “earn their place amongst their peers”. He honestly thought that this kind of stuff would have ended the moment that he graduated from secondary school and entered into the workforce, thinking that full fledged adults would learn how to properly behave and conduct themselves in a mature manner.

Needless to say, he was dead wrong about that. Some of them get even worse with old age.

Though he's learned to separate his professional feelings from his personal feelings, it would be untruthful to say that the current behavior towards Y/N-chan didn’t bother him in the slightest.

He minded. He minded a great deal, actually.

She was good. She was kind to others. She certainly didn’t deserve this kind of treatment. Frankly, no one ever deserved that kind of treatment no matter who they were.

Nanami strolled into work bright and early one morning to find her hunched forward on her desk, completely passed out. He noted that there were papers that were scattered across the surface and that there was a pen still lodged in her hand. She must have spent the night here.

He set his stuff down on his desk before turning to her and placing a hand on her shoulder to gently rock her awake.

“Y/N-chan, you need to wake up,” he says softly.

He goes to stand behind her chair and places his other hand on her forehead to help sit her up, hoping that the motion and change in position will help stir her awake.

“Y/N-chan, Akiyama-buchou will be in shortly, you need to wake up so you don’t end up in trouble.”

There’s a solid minute that passes before Nanami hears a groggy: “Mmm… senpai?”

He let out a chuckle before stepping back to sit at his desk. “Did you spend the night here last night?”

“Mmhmm,” she yawned as she stretched out her arms well above her head and leaned up against her chair. “I had to finish up the final reports for the department quarterly review. They’re due at the end of this week.”

Nanami paused, then his eyes narrowed. “I thought that was Kakuta-san’s responsibility to take care of that,” he said, his voice a tad stern.

“Yeah, well… he asked me to do it.”

“He shouldn’t have.”

Y/N was silent for a moment before she started to organize the papers on her desk into a more orderly fashion. The next words come out small and downtrodden. “It’s not like I can say no to my superiors, Nanami-senpai.”

“Kakuta-san is not your superior, he’s your co-worker. He shouldn’t be passing off his assigned work tasks onto you. Matter of fact, none of these people in this office should be passing off their assigned tasks onto you.” He had a much more choice word to use for his colleagues but he bit his tongue.

At this point, Nanami felt like he was scolding his own child rather than his junior.

You try telling them that, Y/N thought snidely to herself. She let his comments roll off her back. “Look, I’m almost finished with the report, senpai. It’s really not that big of a deal.”

His gaze is hard. “You’re sure?”

Y/N matches his demeanor, getting a little annoyed with his constant chastising. Her eyebrows slightly furrow as she sits up a tad taller, looking Nanami square in the eye. “I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me. I can handle it,” Y/N snaps. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work. I’ve already wasted enough time here.”

He watches as she busies herself with the paperwork on her desk, a sour taste remaining in his mouth, making him purse his lips together into a tight line. Nanami briskly turns away, not wanting to add further dissension to their discourse.

Things went from bad to worse.

On the days that she was supposed to have off, she would be called into the office to work grueling hours, usually from seven in the morning until midnight, leaving her with little to no free time. Interactions with her co-workers and her superiors become more and more hostile. The shift of blame became a near constant everytime that she was in office, the accusations becoming increased in severity, some of which would have Akiyama-buchou scream at her in front of the entire office staff which, at times, would reduce her to tears.

The mental and emotional stress was starting to take a physical toll on Y/N. The bags underneath her eyes were becoming darker, she had no appetite to eat anything, thus making some of her clothes start to fit a little looser. Her hair was starting to slowly come out in clumps and sleepless nights were starting to become the norm.

The anxiety and fear was starting to eat her alive, and Y/N was exhausted.

Nanami was silently noticing the events unfolding before him, and found the actions of his colleagues to be reprehensible. He’s grown to care for Y/N-chan. More than he would like to admit, but somehow she’s managed to worm her way into his heart.

He tried finding little ways to combat the workplace harassment that Y/N-chan was facing. Tiny things, nothing too grand or extravagant that would draw attention.

When Y/N-chan found herself swamped with work (realistically speaking, the work of others that they, continuously, passed onto her) and unable to leave her desk, not even to take a lunch break, Nanami would stop by the vending machines, leaving extra snacks on her desk when she wasn’t paying attention to the world around her. The mornings that he would find her passed out cold on her desk from pulling an all-nighter at the office, he would visit the little coffee shop across the street and “accidentally” order two cups of coffee instead of one. Just like the vending machine snacks, he would leave the cup at the corner of Y/N-chan’s desk for her to wake up to. When she would ask him about it, noticing that they were both from the same place, he would always say the same thing to her: “They accidentally gave me two. Rather than waste the extra on me, I figured that you would need it a bit more than I do.” which was then quickly followed by a “no, you don’t need to pay me back”. The times that Y/N would find herself alone in the office during the lunch breaks that the staff would take, Nanami would stay behind at his desk beside hers and silently eat his lunch. The days that he noticed she hadn’t brought any food with her, he would offer part of his lunch. It was second nature at this point, but she would always refuse, saying that she wasn’t hungry.

Whenever Y/N felt her emotions get the better of her, she would hide in the supply closet and take a moment to try and recollect herself. As a grounding point, she would try to think that her family and friends (what little she had of them) love and care about her, and other times, she would think of the small acts of kindness that Nanami would show towards her.

She would be forever grateful for him. Even if she wouldn’t verbally say it out loud to him.

At some point, though, the tension reached a head, and Nanami couldn’t idly stand by anymore.

One afternoon, Nanami was leaving a meeting room with the other department leaders when he heard a loud cry ring out in the office, ripping him out of his reverie. He whips his head up to see Y/N barge out of the staff break room and rush past him, tears welling up in her eyes, and a large brown stain covered the front of her white blouse that she was wearing. Alarmed, he watches as she runs to the women's restroom, the door slamming behind her.

What caught his attention next was the sound of laughter that came from the break room. A sinking feeling of dread sat in his chest, before the subtle burn of anger began to ignite in his heart.

His eyes narrow as he saunters towards the breakroom, finding both Fumiko and Aiko standing there, giddy as school girls. They became deers in the headlights as soon as they saw Nanami.

He noticed that Fumiko was holding an empty mug with coffee dribbling down the side of it.

“I saw Y/N-chan run out of here. She seemed upset,” he muses. “What happened?”

The two women stare at him like gaping fish, neither one of them saying a word.

A beat of silence passes before he speaks again, his eyes locked onto them. “Something clearly happened.”

The sound of the coffee machine brewing in the corner of the room catches his attention. Nanami glances at Fumiko and Aiko from the corner of his eyes, his gaze disapproving, before walking over to the coffee machine. The smell of a freshly brewed pot assaults his senses as he approaches. He raises a hand and gently presses two fingers to the side of the pot.

It’s hot. Scalding hot, actually.

“Judging by the behavior of you two, I’m going to assume that you intentionally spilled hot coffee on Y/N-chan’s front,” Nanami muses, as if he were speaking to himself. He turns to face them, leaning up against the counter. “Am I wrong?”

Silence.

Nanami knows that neither Aiko or Fumiko don’t have to say anything to explain themselves.

He lets out a loud sigh and raises a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “That’s what I thought.”

After finally getting the answers that he needed, Nanami pushes off the counter, wasting no time to grab the first-aid kit as he exits the breakroom, heading towards the women's restroom.

Y/N is sitting on the toilet, her blouse pulled open as she applies wet tissues of toilet paper to the large burn on her chest in order to find some relief from the pain.

She’s stopped crying, but now the feelings of embarrassment and shame are starting to set in.

Leaning forward to hold her head in her hands with her elbows resting on her knees, all of the emotions that Y/N has been holding in for the past several months begins to boil over and comes to the forefront of her mind. The mistreatment from her colleagues and her superiors, the sleepless nights, the constant overtime (overtime that she was not adequately paid for, by the way), the endless workloads, etc. was laid out in front of her.

Y/N never considered herself to be a downtrodden person, but having since been in this job, it was as if every single day she woke up with dread filling her chest. She tried to be a good sport about it, by trying to give herself some grace and the people that she worked with the benefit of doubt, and tried to rationalize their behaviors towards her. However, it was difficult to ignore the persistent hostility and how quick she was to be sold down the river whenever things went horribly wrong.

A lump rose in the back of her throat and tears began to well up in her eyes again. Her mind was beginning to create a snowball effect of everything that has happened ever since she started at this job. Her face crumbled, and the tears spilled over.

A knock at the door brings her out of her mental turmoil. “Y/N-chan?”

Nanami.

“I have some burn ointment for you. I know it’s not much… but I hope that it will help with the pain.”

Y/N grabs some extra toilet paper to wipe away at her face, and throws away the wet toilet paper that was stuck to her chest, before buttoning her blouse back up. She stands up and looks into the mirror, making sure that she was… somewhat presentable to her senpai.

She cracks open the door and pokes her head out to see Nanami standing there with several packets of burn ointment presented in an open palm.

“Thank you,” Y/N murmurs, reaching out to take the packets from him.

“I’ll talk to Akiyama-buchou to see if you can get the rest of the day off,” Nanami says, letting his hand fall back to his side. “You clearly need it.”

She looks up at him in worry. “N-no! That’s not-!”

“Y/N-chan. You’re injured. You’re overworked. You need rest. I assure you that the office will not burn to the ground because you’re not in. I promise.” There was a tone of finality to his words. It was clear that there was no room for argument with him as Nanami had clearly made up his mind.

A passive look forms on Y/N’s features before she nods once and disappears back into the restroom.

What follows next are tense interactions and conversations had with others around the office as Nanami forcibly returned work assignments to those that had pawned off their work to Y/N. Those that protested were quickly met with an icy glare that shut them up immediately.

The conversation with Akiyama left Nanami in a rather foul mood than he already was.

He straight up laughed in Nanami’s face when he said that Y/N would be taking the rest of the day off.

“You can’t be serious! Since when do you actually give a shit about that little brat?” he guffaws. He looks like he’s about to start crying from laughing as if he’s been told the funniest joke in his life.

Nanami doesn’t falter. His gaze is as hard as stone as he stoically answers, “The same way in which you fail to do your due diligence as a member of upper level management to ensure that the work environment that you create isn’t a hostile one. You’ve got the vindictiveness of a fourteen year old child. You’re pathetic, really.”

Akiyama’s smug look quickly fades as Nanami speaks his piece, his face turning into a shade of dark red from being flustered and embarassed.

Nanami has held in his emotions for the entirety of his professional career, but now he could give a damn. The floodgates have opened and now he’s speaking his mind.

“Now, listen here-”

“Frankly, I don’t care what you have to say. You’re the most incompetent man that I’ve ever encountered and I’ve seen a fair amount of them. The immaturity, the lack of consideration on both a professional and personal level, the harassment that you feed your employees if they don’t meet your standards by even the most minute level. It’s despicable.”

“Nanami Kento-!”

“You’ve lost my respect… though, I never really had that much respect to give you in the first place.”

The weight lifts off of his shoulders as he finishes speaking, though, the responsibility of getting you home safe and sound is still on his mind.

“I’ll be escorting her home. Don’t expect to see me the rest of the day.”

“Nanami-!”

He briskly turns away before Akiyama can say anything to him, leaving the office and letting the door slam behind him. He stops by Y/N’s desk, gathering all of her belongings and putting them in her bag that hung on the back of her chair.

“Y/N-chan? Are you ready?” Nanami asks, standing outside of the women's restroom.

“Um… I don’t think I’m really…presentable to leave the restroom…”

She poked her head out again, Nanami catching some glimpses of her white blouse with the large coffee stain on it. She looks a bit more put together, the puffiness in her face has somewhat dwindled.

Nanami pauses, before setting down both his and her items and shrugging out of his suit jacket. He gently nudges the door open a bit wider with his foot so they’re both face to face with each other as he tenderly places his suit jacket over Y/N’s shoulders, giving her a bit more coverage and allowing her to pull the sides of the jacket over the gigantic brown stain.

A blush began to creep over her cheeks as she dropped her gaze from his, suddenly feeling bashful.

“Thank you.”

The two of them left, feeling all the eyes of the office workers on them as they departed. Akiyama came barging out of his office, screaming at the top of his lungs at their backsides.

Y/N startles, going to look over her shoulder at him, but Nanami stops her by putting an arm around her shoulders, forcing her to look forward.

For the remainder of their trip back to Y/N’s apartment, he doesn’t remove his arm from around her shoulders. Nanami doesn’t know why he didn’t want to remove it from around her. Not a word is spoken between them… but for the both of them, it wasn’t uncomfortable.

They were given strange looks by onlookers on the streets of Tokyo, but the pair were somewhat comfortable in their own little world.

“You didn’t… have to do this, you know?” Y/N shyly says, risking a glance at him from the corner of her eyes. They’re now on the train, moving from the district of Shinjuku to Koto, where Y/N’s apartment was located.

“I know I didn’t,” Nanami responds, looking down to meet her gaze. “I wanted to.”

After some time, they eventually reach their desired train station in Koto. From there on, it’s a twenty minute walk to the apartment.

“Will you come inside? I feel like I should make you a cup of tea or something…” Y/N says, shrugging off Nanami’s suit jacket to give back to him as they stand in front of the entrance to Y/N’s apartment.

“That’s not necessary, Y/N-chan-”

“Please? It’s the least I can do. Especially after everything that you’ve done for me.”

He ponders on it, before giving her a single nod with a small smile starting to grace his features. “If you insist, I suppose it wouldn’t do any harm. A cup of tea made by you sounds lovely.”

She gives him a wide smile as she fishes into her purse to find her keys to let them into the apartment.

It was tiny, but that was to be expected. Slightly messy with various items strewn around the den and the kitchen areas, but nothing too egregious that Nanami couldn’t overlook.

“I’ll put the kettle on if you’d like to have a seat. I’ll just be a moment,” Y/N says as she shuffles out of her high heels in the entryway. Trying to be sly, she immediately picks up the discarded clothes so that Nanami wouldn’t notice as she retreats into her bedroom so she can change out of the stained blouse and into a clean shirt. In a quick glance in a mirror that she has in her bedroom, she sees a rather large, angry red patch mark her chest where the coffee branded her.

A flash of humiliation strikes through her core, but Y/N does her best to not dwell on it. Even if her chest is still throbbing from her injury, regardless of the ointment that Nanami was so kind to give to her.

Nanami silently makes his way to the den and sits at the kotatsu table in the center of the room, letting the futon cover his lap, waiting patiently for Y/N to exit her room.

She comes out of the bedroom, changed into a fresh set of casual clothes, and wastes no time getting started on the tea that she promised Nanami.

“I hope you don’t mind my appearance,” Y/N calls out, glancing over her shoulder to look at him. “I don’t think I could stand to be in that stained blouse another minute.”

“Please don’t think I’m offended, Y/N-chan, I’m a guest in your home. I’d rather you be comfortable.”

Y/N gives him a toothy smile as she fills up the electric kettle with water.

“I have sencha tea. Is that okay with you?”

A singular nod. “Yes, that sounds lovely.”

To Y/N, it felt strange to have her senpai in her home, sitting at her little kotatsu table that he seemed rather too large for. She stole a look at him while he wasn’t paying attention and fought back a giggle, thinking of him as a bull in a china shop in her microscopic apartment.

From the corner of his eye, Nanami noticed a pile of vinyl records leaned up against a record player.

“Do you listen to vinyl, Y/N-chan?”

“I do, actually. I enjoy collecting records whenever I can.”

“Any particular genre?”

“Hmm…my father was always big on music from the 50’s and the 60’s. I remember listening to a lot of cassette tapes and vinyls from those eras. He said that there was a certain romantic aspect that just couldn’t be replicated in today’s music.” Y/N comes into the den with two steaming mugs of tea, setting them both down onto the kotatsu. “However, he could be just a bit biased because that’s the music that he grew up on.”

Nanami chuckles. “Just a bit. Thank you for the tea and hospitality, by the way, Y/N-chan. You didn’t have to do this.” He gently grips the handle of the mug and brings it to his lips, taking in a small sip.

Y/N softly sighs, letting her shoulders slump the tiniest degree. “I felt like I needed to.”

“Y/N-chan-”

“Senpai, I just…” She starts to wring her hands in front of her, suddenly nervous. “I just wanted to show my appreciation for all that you did for me when I was struggling. The snacks and coffees that you would leave at my desk, offering to share part of your lunch with me… All sorts of things that you went out of your way to do for me, when you really had nothing to gain from it. I don’t know why you did it to begin with, but… I’ll be forever thankful to you that you did.”

Seeing her be so open and candid with everything that had happened within the past several months, made Nanami reminisce on his old secondary school classmate, Yu Haibara. Perhaps that’s why he had such a fondness for Y/N. She shared a lot of characteristics that Haibara had.

Happiness. Genuine kindness. A fondness for life and living.

Maybe that’s why Nanami was doing his damndest to try and help her.

Protect her.

In a way that he wasn’t able to do for Haibara.

Y/N notices Nanami’s silent reverie. “What are you thinking about?”

“Hm? Oh… nothing in particular.”

Unconvinced, she prods a tiny bit more. “Are you sure? You look like you’re deep in thought about something.”

Nanami quickly changes the subject. “How’s your burn doing? It’s not hurting you too much, is it?”

At the mention of her injury, a flare of a dull ache makes its way to the front of her mind. She brings a hand up to her chest to rub at it.

“It’s manageable.”

He gives her a knowing look before getting up from the kotatsu and goes into the kitchen, grabbing a handful of paper towels and running them under cold water.

“Here, this should help.” He offers her the wet paper towels, but she simply stares at his hand.

Y/N glances at his hand and back up to his face, before she reaches out to grip his wrist and uses his arm as leverage to pull herself up into a standing position. She doesn’t let go of his wrist.

“I hope… that you’ll allow me to thank you. Properly,” Y/N says, peering up at Nanami, a certain… emotion displayed that he wasn’t able to place his finger on. She takes a step closer to him, decreasing the distance between them.

All Nanami could focus on in that moment was the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears and the sudden warmth that flushed into his cheeks, all of which led to one question in his mind: Where was she going with this?

“Seeing as how we’re being personal and open with one another, would it be silly of me to admit I sort of… developed a little bit of a crush on you?” Her eyes drift down from his for a moment, maybe due to embarrassment, before raising her eyes to meet his, a slight blush starting to color her cheeks. “I didn’t want to say anything at first, especially considering how you always preached about how you always separated your personal life with your professional life… but now feels like a good time to come clean.” She reaches up and gently places a hand on his cheek, feeling the warmth that his skin offered as her thumb tenderly stroked his cheekbone.

Nanami’s heart feels like it's in his throat, unintentionally tensing up at the feeling of her hand on the side of his face. “Y/N-chan.”

Why was he so nervous all of a sudden? This wasn’t the first time that a woman tried to be physically close to him, and all those other times he was able to gently reject their advances with ease.

Why was Y/N suddenly the exception to this rule?

“Are you… uncomfortable with this?” she asks, unable to gauge his current state of mind due to his stunned silence. The last thing that Y/N wanted to do was encroach on his boundaries.

Nanami remains silent, his eyes still locked onto her face.

Y/N takes that as a sign to halt her advances. She begins to pull away.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things awkward-” she begins to apologize, but finds herself cut short by the feeling of another mouth covering hers.

Nanami, finally snapping out of his trance, allows himself to feel something for the first time in a long time. Gripping both sides of her face, he bends down and pulls her into a rather heated kiss, their teeth accidentally clacking against each other from the force of impact.

Y/N, startled at first, melts into the kiss, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck to try and pull him closer to her, his hands sliding from her cheeks to thread his fingers through her hair, allowing him just a bit more grip on her. Y/N’s chest aches at her burn site at the friction of Nanami’s body against hers, but she could care less about it in the current moment.

With her lungs screaming for oxygen, she pulls away, gasping. “Nanami-senpai!”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” he gasps out, trying to catch his breath.

“Don’t be.”

They remain still for a moment, just taking in their presence.

Nanami leans down to press his forehead against Y/N’s, closing his eyes. “It’s no secret that I’ve come to care for you, Y/N-chan. Perhaps, a bit more than I initially let on.”

A breathy chuckle escapes from her. “Is that so?”

He gives a small nod, a gentle smile forming on his face. “Yes.”

One of his hands, still entangled in her hair, falls from her head to softly grip the side of her neck, his thumb gently rubbing alongside her jawline.

“I should have asked you this properly, before I got physical with you,” Nanami whispers. “Is this something that you would want to pursue, Y/N-chan? A relationship… with me?”

A slight pause as Y/N digests his proposal, before she smiles and nods. “If you’ll have me.”

“I’ll always have you, so long as you put up with me and my broody behavior.”

“You’re not broody.” She reaches up to softly push back several strands of hair that had fallen in his eyes. “Matter of fact, I find you to be very kind and considerate. I have all of the ‘extra coffees’ and vending machine snacks to thank you for.”

Y/N grabs at the hand that’s on the side of her neck and guides it down so that Nanami is now cupping one of her breasts through her shirt. She glances up at him, sucking in her bottom lip between her teeth, waiting to see what his next move will be.

Filled with new found lust, and a rush of heat down to his groin, Nanami closes the gap between the two of them, pressing his lips to hers once more, allowing his tongue to slip past his lips and into her mouth, massaging hers with his own. There’s urgency to their motions now, their exhaled breaths coming out much harsher and heavier than before.

Nanami’s hands slip underneath her shirt to fully cup her breasts, allowing him to roll her nipples between his fingers and thumbs.

Y/N lets out a little squeak at the sensation, but takes it all in stride. She grabs at his clothes, attempting to undo his tie and the buttons to his shirt, but struggles at the Windsor knot on his tie, unsure how to loosen it. Nanami, lost in the moment, comes to at the sensation of her prying hands and quickly undoes his two piece suit at a much faster rate than Y/N ever could, stripping down to be completely bare and vulnerable in front of her.

Y/N truly began to appreciate what a fine specimen Nanami was. He’s toned. He’s muscular. He’s built like a Greek god, if she was being totally honest with herself.

She looks down at Nanami’s cock, sucking in a sharp breath when she notices how girthy it was. It wasn’t fully erect, but Y/N remembers some of her old friends from university going on about how some men are “growers”. Their words, not hers.

“Can…can I?” she stutters out, her eyes locked onto his growing erection.

“God, yes, please.”

She sinks to her knees in front of him, coming face to face with his cock. The sight alone makes Nanami’s respiration become labored.

With gentle hands, she reaches out and grasps him at the base and points him upright. Her eyes glance up at him, trying to gauge his reaction, before pressing a kiss to the head. One hand goes to stroke the length as the other falls to massage his testicles. With a deep breath, and a whole lot of fraudulent courage, she sinks her head onto him, trying to take him in as much as she could without activating her gag reflex.

“Y/N-chan…” Nanami gasps out, the warm, wet sensation of her mouth sending shockwaves through his core. His hands twitch by his sides, wanting to bury his fingers into the crown of her head, but he restrains himself, not wanting to rush her into things.

Slowly, Y/N finds her rhythm. She begins to bob her head up and down his length with added vigor, her hand stroking the parts that her mouth cannot reach. Saliva begins to dribble from her mouth and down her chin, the more that she bobs her head. The sound of squelching fills the room as Y/N continues her assault on Nanami.

Nanami’s head had fallen back and his eyes were closed in ecstasy. “Fuck, Y/N-chan,” he gasps out, foregoing his original plan of self control and reaching one of his hands to grasp at the back of Y/N’s head, desperate to try and hold onto something. He begins to move his hips, just enough to thrust forward to meet her mouth. Through heavy-lidded eyes, he tilts head forward to look down at Y/N to see her eyes locked onto his face as she persisted with her movements. She pulls off his length, but with the tip still in her mouth, she wraps her tongue around the tip and simply sucks.

Nanami’s vision goes white for just a moment, and he swears that he had died and gone to heaven in that second.

Y/N pops off his member, strings of saliva attaching from her mouth to Nanami, gasping for breath. He stands fully erect now, his cock now slapping against his abdomen the moment that Y/N lets go of him, and the tip begins to ooze with pre-ejaculate. She offers him a cheeky smile, meeting his wanton gaze with playfulness. “Is this to your liking, Nanami Kento?”

She leans forward and suckles one of his testicles into her mouth, her eyes never leaving his face. Something inside Nanami snaps, and he can no longer hold himself back anymore.

“You little minx,” he rasps out, reaching down to push her shoulders back, putting some distance between the two of them. He pulls her up into a standing position, before reaching down to grasp at her hips. He pulls her into a feverish kiss, his lips entangling with hers. He lifts her up into the air, allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist, giving him the freedom to blindly make his way from her living room to her bedroom. He gently sets her down on the edge of the bed, pulling away from the kiss.

“Can I take your clothes off, Y/N-chan?” His hands grab at the hem of her shirt, waiting for her approval to do so.

She nods, lifting her arms up over her head, making it easier for Nanami to pull her shirt off, leaving her bare-chested in front of him. The cool air hits her skin, making goosebumps start to rise throughout her trunk.

Nanami takes in everything that she has to offer. Every curve, contour, stretch mark, including the large burn on her chest. A flash of anger flares up in his chest at the sight of it, but he does his best to extinguish it. He doesn’t want to sour the mood with a foul mood.

Feeling his eyes on her, Y/N can’t help but become self conscious in his observant gaze as she instinctively raises her arms to cover her chest to make herself as small as possible. Nanami, however, notices her attempts to cover herself up and catches both of her wrists in his large hands, stopping her from doing so.

“Stop. You don’t need to hide yourself in front of me,” he says, nearly chastising her as he forces her arms back down to their sides. “I want to see all of you, as you have seen all of me.” He sinks to his knees in front of her and leans forward to press gentle kisses to her chest, making sure to linger his lips on her injury. “Will you allow me to make you feel good, Y/N-chan?” he asks, peering up at her with tender eyes.

Y/N gives him a soft smile, threading her fingers through his hair. “I’d like that.”

He returns the smile, before he presses his lips to hers once again, only this time it’s not as rushed and frenzied as before. It’s slow and reposeful, as if they don’t want to rush the moment to its end.

Nanami, still on his knees, reaches up with both hands to cup her jaw, his thumbs smoothing at her cheek bones as he continues to kiss her. He begins to gently guide her back further onto the mattress, allowing her to lay down and for him more room to explore her body. He lets his hands trail from the sides of her face down to the hems of both the bottoms that she was wearing and her underwear. He pulls away just a fraction of an inch from her lips, looking into her eyes as he gets more of a hold on the clothing, silently asking her permission to remove the rest of her clothes.

Y/N instinctually lifts her hips up, giving Nanami the freedom to remove the rest of the barriers, leaving her totally bare in front of him.

He sits between her legs, his eyes narrowing down on her center, before glancing back up to meet her gaze. “May I taste you?”

She nods, watching with heavy anticipation as he changes position so that he’s now flat on his stomach, now faced with the most intimate part of Y/N. It wasn’t an understatement to say that she was incredibly nervous. It had been some time since she last had sex with another man.

Noting her silence and her tense position, Nanami asks her, “Are you alright?”

His question pulls her out of her silent dilemma, realizing that he was locked in on her face.

She nods, not trusting her voice right now.

His eyes are quizzical, but he doesn’t push it any further. “You’ll tell me if you’re uncomfortable, yeah?”

She nods again.

“I think I’m gonna need a little more confirmation than that, Y/N-chan. I need you to actually say something.”

A flush of heat makes its way towards her core at his command, arousing her a bit more than she would like to admit. “I… yes. I promise I’ll say something,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

He gives her a smirk. “Good girl.”

He hooks his arms around her thighs, pulling her closer to him, his face now just mere nanometers away from her center. Maintaining eye contact with her, he flattens his tongue on her clit, massaging it with smooth, languid strokes.

Y/N lets out a gasp at the sensation of his tongue on her, her head falling backwards on the pillow, letting the pleasure build from her core and flow throughout her body.

Nanami starts out slow, letting her adjust to the stimulation before he begins to flick her clit at a rapid pace, trying to build on her satisfaction. His eyes never leave her face as he continues with his movements. Reaching further around, he uses his hands to spread her lips wide open and sucks her clit between his lips.

“My god, Nana-mi-senpai,” she moans, her toes curling at the feeling of him sucking her in. Unable to make sense of what to do with herself, her hands fly to her chest grabbing at her breasts. She begins to pant now, the pleasure beginning to build upon itself as Nanami’s tongue continues to ravish her. The waves are crashing over each other now, and the familiar coil within Y/N’s abdomen starts to tighten, alerting her of her impending orgasm.

Switching tactics, Nanami diverts his attention to her opening. Replacing his tongue with this thumb on her clit, he gently prods his tongue through, thrusting it in and out.

“Nanami!” Y/N cries out, jerking at the sensation. She squirms and twists at his ministrations, unable to maintain her composure anymore, before he uses his other hand to flatten it on her abdomen, in an effort to hold her still. She glances down at him to see his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his fingers splayed out on her abdomen, a warning look in his eyes, as if to say don’t move. He brings his mouth back up to her clit and presses a single kiss to the sensitive nub before, for lack of a better word, devouring her. He engulfs her entire clit into his mouth before suckling on it and his tongue furiously stroking her, trying to fully push her over the edge and bring her to orgasm.

The coil within Y/N tightens further and further the more Nanami’s mouth works her, the pressure within herself mounting to an almost uncomfortable point. Her hands fly down to grab at Nanami’s hair, desperately trying to anchor herself to something, but she’s quickly getting swept up into shockwaves of ecstasy.

With one final suck, the coil snaps and Y/N is rendered completely helpless as her orgasm comes crashing over her in waves. She lets out a loud cry as her abdomen clamps down on itself, her body shaking with each pulse of her core, her hands becoming a vice grip in his hair.

Nanami’s moans at the feeling of her hands in his hair, releasing her core free from the confines of his lips, panting out several breaths before going in with his tongue again to lap at her release. Y/N jerks at the sensation, slowly becoming overwhelmed with the constant stimulation.

As Y/N comes down from her high, she looks down to Nanami giving him a weak, breathy chuckle, gently untangling her fingers from his hair. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

He leans away from her, flashing her a relaxed grin. He kisses his way up her abdomen, gently pressing his lips to her skin as he makes his way to her face. Once he reaches his intended destination, he captures her lips into an all-consuming kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist in an effort to pull her as close to him as humanly possible. In response, her legs go to encircle his hips, pressing her lubricated center to his leaking cock.

Nanami lets out a hiss at the contact, a flash of pleasure striking through him, making him almost recoil from Y/N’s body.

She looks at him, concerned. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I just… I’m a little more sensitive than I initially thought,” he reassures, leaning up to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Well… I’m yours for the taking.” She spreads her legs open, sending the message to him wide and clear.

A sinking realization dawns on Nanami as he looks down at his bare self, now just coming to terms that he’s missing a very key component to this whole encounter. “Y/N-chan, I… I’m sorry, but I don’t have any protection on me,” he whispers. “I don’t want to end this moment with you… but I don’t want to risk you getting pregnant for my own selfish desires, either.”

Y/N props herself up on her elbows, leaning over to the nightstand beside the bed and opens the drawer, pulling out several packages of condoms, making Nanami do a double-take. “An old friend of mine from university gave them to me as a gag gift for my birthday before I started to work at the office. I really haven’t had the opportunity to use them… well, up until now at least,” she explains, a bit of a sheepish grin gracing her face as she hands them to Nanami.

“Some friends you have,” he says, ripping a package open, grabbing the plastic wrapping before placing it on his tip and rolling it down his length. He doesn’t question it, he’s just thankful that he doesn’t have to stop. He positions himself between Y/N’s legs, sitting back on his haunches, as he grabs hold of his length and guides his tip to her slit. “Are you ready for me, Y/N-chan?”

She inhales a deep breath. “Yes. I’m ready, Nanami-senpai.”

He lets out a chuckle. “Kento.”

“Hmm?” She looks at him, confused.

“I think we’re way beyond the point of just acknowledging each other by our surnames, Y/N-chan. All things considered.”

“I suppose you’re right… Kento.”

With one hand, grabs hold of her hip, while with the other, he slowly guides his tip into her entrance. When he has the assurance that it won’t slip out, he pauses his motions. “You’ll tell me if it gets to be too much, yeah?”

She nods. “Yes.”

“Good.”

He softly guides his hips forward, pushing his cock past her opening and letting him be enveloped by her warm, wet walls. He almost has to stop himself from getting ahead of himself and snapping his hips in. A thin layer of perspiration begins to form on his forehead as he concentrates all of his will power into not burying her into the mattress and pounding into her in that moment. Nanami looks to her, trying to gauge where she was at in terms of comfort after fully sheathing himself in her.

Y/N was in a bit of pain, to say the least. With the stretch of Nanami as he penetrated into her, came the uncomfortable burning sensation of almost being split open. She lets out a hiss and closes her eyes, immediately tensing herself up. Nanami was not small, by any means necessary. Matter of fact, he was much more well endowed than any of Y/N’s previous partners or one night stands, leaving her uncomfortably full with areas that Nanami was touching that had initially been left undisturbed. She could feel the tip of his member twitch inside of her, causing her to unintentionally clamp down on him.

Nanami stutters out a groan, nearly throwing his head back in pure, unadulterated pleasure, but he forces himself to hold steadfast. He knows that she needs to adjust to him, and he would not move until she gave him the say so.

The seconds that pass feel like years to Nanami as he remains stagnant. His selfish desire is eating away at his restraint, but he deliberately ignores it, instead focusing all of his attention on her. Gritting his teeth, he gently squeezes her hips, trying to draw her back into the current moment. “Are you alright, Y/N-chan?”

With her eyes still closed, she nods her head. She reaches down and grabs at one of his hands on her hips, relocating it to her center, with his thumb just barely brushing up against her clit. He slowly begins to swipe at it, hopeful that the stimulation of it would overcome the pain. She repositions herself now, letting her legs interlock around his hips with her ankles linking together, giving him the nonverbal permission that he so desperately required.

Slowly, with careful precision, he begins to roll his hips forward, each time burying himself to the hilt of her. Her warm, velvet walls encasing his cock made his vision nearly go white every time that she clamped around him, whether if it was intentional or not.

Y/N goes slack jawed, the motions painful at first, but the more he pistoned his hips against her, the constant pulsing of his cock within her, the warmth that he offered her, and the haphazard stroking of her clit with his fingers, the more she began to enjoy herself. Her arousal slicked her walls, further lubricating her, loosening her up as Nanami continued with his assault on her. Some of it began to seep out and dampen his pelvis where it met hers, with strings of her connecting them to each other in more ways than one.

He could have cried right there, if he wanted to.

Nanami’s hips pick up the pace, now slapping against her, filling the room with body parts colliding with one another and uneven breathing and soft moans, and the aroma of sex beginning to flood the enclosed space. Wisps of his hair fall into his eyes, somewhat blocking his view on her as she falls apart underneath him, slowly becoming a pile of jelly and limbs.

“Y/N-chan, Y/N-channn…” he cries out, his hips now slamming against her, his hands gripping her in a vice grip as he chases the high that he so desperately craved. The motions cause the bed frame to shake and rattle with the headboard starting to bash against the wall. His eyes are locked on her, watching her as she is completely lost to the pleasure that he’s feeding her. Her eyes are closed with her eyebrows furrowed as if she were concentrating on something, her body jerking with each thrust that he plows into her, her breasts even more so, and her hands are white-knuckling the bedsheets.

It’s a sight truly to behold in his eyes.

The tension in his abdomen is building to an uncomfortable tightness, the coil close to snapping as his orgasm nears. His hips start to buck into now, the pace almost inhuman.

“Y/N-chan…I’m close. I’m so close, I can’t…ha…I can’t hold back anymore…Y/N-chan!”

“On me…I want it on me…” she moans out, looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes in a lustful gaze. The corner of her mouth turned upward into a small smirk.

His brain nearly short-circuits at the thought of his seed painting her abdomen and chest and face.

It takes everything within Nanami to stop what he’s doing and pull his cock out of her. He rips the condom off, replacing it with his hand as he starts to vigorously stroke his hand up and down his length, a piss poor replacement for her warmth. He leans over her, putting his free hand by her head, locking eyes with her as he continued to masturbate, the sound of her wetness filling the room as he rapidly stroked up and down his length. She, in a heated second, wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him down to press her lips to his, eager to feel his mouth on her again. He doesn’t stop his movements, as he slips his tongue into her mouth, eager to explore her mouth once again.

The coil in his abdomen snaps, causing warmth to flood through him in waves throughout his entire core, with his seed finally spurting out of his red, angry tip. He has to stop, pulling away for just a moment as a gasping moan slips out of his mouth.

Y/N startles at the feeling of his heated droplets as they spray onto her abdomen and chest, some of them going as far onto her neck, but quickly relishes in the feeling of it. The majority of it pooling onto her abdomen as it flows from his tip. Nanami stutters out a groan as he slows his hand down, sitting back on his haunches, looking at the canvas that he painted on Y/N’s body, his slowly deflating cock twitching at the sight of it.

Feeling mischievous, Y/N props herself up on her elbows as scoops up a glob of his seed off of her body. In her post-coital gaze, she maintains eye contact with him as she sticks her tongue out of her mouth, bringing the dollop of seed up to her mouth and places it onto her tongue. Nanami’s eyes nearly dilate to the size of quarters as she pulls her tongue back into her mouth, as this may be one of the most erotic things he’s ever encountered in all of his years.

Y/N lets out a squeak as Nanami grabs hold of her hips and roughly pulls her down the mattress, fully placing her core against his length.

“If I remember correctly, I don’t think you came around me as we fucked, did you Y/N-chan?”

Stunned at the sudden motion, all Y/N can really say is: “I, it’s fine Kento, I-”

“Bullshit.”

“You made me come with your mouth, it’s fine-”

He shoots her a glare. “Let me do this for you. I want to make sure you feel good.”

He reaches up past her to grab a pillow at the head of the bed. “Lift your hips up for me,” he instructs. She follows his command wordlessly and he stuffs the pillow underneath her, placing her pelvis at a bit of an upward angle.

He leans forward over her, placing his hands on either side of her, and places his cock straight onto her clit, and begins to thrust upward, using the external stimulation of his member to rub on her, trying to get her to orgasm once more for him.

Y/N lets out a soft moan at the feeling of him on her, the filthy sound of her slickness filling the room as Nanami thrusts up on her. She grabs onto her breasts and squeezes them against her chest, desperately trying to ground herself in the moment, but with Nanami’s relentless assault, she finds herself drifting further and further away into the pleasure of it all.

“I want you to come for me, Y/N-chan,” he growls out, his eyes animalistic and unflinching. “I want you to come undone on my cock. I want you. In every sense. In every way.”

Y/N, once again rendered to a helpless pile of mush, finds herself unable to respond. The feeling of Nanami’s cock on her clit begins to tighten her abdomen once again, causing white hot sensations to build within her. Her toes curl, she grasps onto Nanami’s forearms with her nails digging into his skin. He lets out a hiss, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t dare.

“Come for me, darling. I want you to come for me. Can you do that for me? Be my good girl and come for me?”

His words send her into overdrive with flushes of heat making their way directly to her core, more slickness slowly oozing out of her and dampening Nanami’s cock the more he moved against her. He can feel himself hardening again, but he couldn’t care less.

The more the heat and tension built within Y/N, the more that she squirmed and thrashed into the mattress. All of it mounting up to the point that Nanami was desperately trying to get her towards. He maintained his pace, but he leaned down onto her, smearing his seed on his chest, his lips right at her ear now. “You’re almost there, aren’t you?”

“Kento, I… Oh my fucking… Christ!” Y/N cries out, wrapping both her arms and legs around Nanami’s trunk. “Please! Please, god! I can’t take it anymore!”

He teasingly licks the outer shell of her ear. “No one’s stopping you, Y/N-chan. Come for me.”

As if her body were waiting for verbal permission from him, even though he had given it to her several times before, her abdomen collapses on itself, making her vision go white and her ears ring. She loudly cries out, her body jerking with each pulse of her orgasm. He can feel it on his length, and he swears he could have orgasmed once again just as he was.

He pulls away from her ear and looks at her blissed out face, her eyes closed as she tries to regain control of her breathing. He reaches up and gently cups the side of her face, tenderly brushing the sweat-dampened strands of hairs from her face behind her ears. “Are you okay?” he quietly asks.

She nods, her eyes still closed.

“Look at me, Y/N-chan.”

She tiredly opens her eyes, looking at him blearily.

He offers a warm smile, before pressing a kiss to the center of her forehead before kissing his way down to her mouth, carefully tender pecks to where he could place his lips. He leans his forehead down, resting it upon hers. “I want you to stay home from work tomorrow.”

She looks at him in confusion, her eyebrows furrowing. “What? Why?”

“There are some things that I need to take care of in the office. I would rather you not be there to witness them. I’m not asking you, I’m telling you, Y/N-chan.” His eyes are unfaltering, his tone absolute. There was no room for argument with him.

She hesitates, trying to digest what he’s telling her, a sinking feeling of unease starting to fill her abdomen. She trusts him, though.

And against her better judgment, she nods, a frown forming on her face.

“Will I see you later then, after work?” she asks, almost timidly.

He leans down and presses another kiss to her lips. “I’ll do my best to see you, that is, if Akiyama doesn’t have my head on a silver platter,” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

There were people that still needed to be dealt with.

He left her apartment early in the morning, while Y/N was dead asleep to the world. A sense of longing fills him as he looks upon her sleeping form, not wanting to leave her only for her to wake up alone, however, there was urgent business that needed attending to.

On the elevator ride to the floor where the office was located, his briefcase weighed a bit heavier than it normally did. As soon as he stepped into the common area where all of the other employees were, the majority of them did double-takes at him, all their gazes locked on him as he slowly stalked his way to Akiyama’s office. He didn’t bother to knock on the door or wait for any notion that it was okay for him to enter into the enclosed space, he simply barged in, catching Akiyama off guard as he sat at his desk, tapping away at his computer.

“Nanami-san!” He jumps, startled at the sudden intrusion, before a rather sour look crosses over his face as the memories of the day prior begin to flash through his mind. He regains control of himself, and puts on a rather tight expression on his face. “Have a seat. We need to have a discussion about your petulant behavior yesterday.”

“I don’t think I will. I’ll remain standing for the rest of this conversation,” Nanami cooly responds. He knows that it’s not going to last long.

“Fine. Stand for all I care.”

Akiyama then goes on a tirade about how Nanami’s behavior yesterday was inexcusable, how it’s totally unprofessional for him to speak to his superior in the manner that he did, and how he has grounds to fire Nanami and Y/N for abandoning their work duties with unexcused work absences, and so on, so forth.

The more Akiyama ranted, the more Nanami’s hearing started to drown out due to a loud whistling sound in his ears. Red, hot anger was flooding in his chest, making both his heart rate and respiration rate increase in rhythm.

Though Akiyama can’t see it, the blue glow of cursed energy started to fully envelope Nanami’s body the more that his anger grew. He wasn’t on overtime, but his emotions were getting the better of him, not allowing him to think clearly and making him tap into his excess cursed energy that he stored within himself.

Akiyama, clearly not paying attention, continues on, now going on about something that Nanami can’t hear due to the whistling in his ears. His eyes analytically looked at Akiyama’s face, the invisible ratio line starting to form on his center, beginning from the base of his jaw to the tip of his receding widow’s peak. The increment markings began to form, and the seventh ratio line formed at his glabella, the point in between his eyebrows and just above his nasal bone.

Nanami sets his briefcase down on one of the chairs.

Akiyama can’t make it to another point as Nanami’s fist connects to the glabella and smashes his face and skull inward.

The impact of the blow is fatal.

Incident Log # 207

Multiple casualties were reported on the seventh floor of the Fujimoto Office Complex in the ward of Shinjuku, in the prefecture of Tokyo. Thirty two bodies were accounted for out of thirty four employees. Seventeen men, and fifteen women. The nature of injuries closely correlate to that of a sorcerer instead of a cursed entity. Residuals of cursed energy left behind strongly indicate that of former Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College student and graduate Nanami Kento. Nanami Kento is an employee at the Fujimoto office and has been missing since the attack occurred. The only other survivor is Y/L Y/N, as she had not been reported to be at the location when the incident transpired.

Special Grade Sorcerer Gojo Satoru is assigned to the case.

The natures and causes of death are reported as followed:

Akiyama Hinata, aged fifty seven, nature of injuries: concave trauma to the frontal lobe of cranium. Cause of death: blunt force trauma to the head.

Fumiko Asami, aged thirty one, nature of injuries: body sliced in half at the anterior inferior iliac spine of pelvis, causing bilateral femoral arteries to be cut open and massive blood loss to occur. Cause of death: blood loss and hypovolemic shock.

Aiko Marina, aged thirty, nature of injuries…

Y/N can’t even stomach her way through the rest of the report and she throws it onto the table in front of her. She’s sitting in an interrogation room with a silver haired man that sports a blindfold over his eyes. He’s introduced himself as Gojo Satoru, the main investigator on this case and she’s been presented with pictures of the crime scene and surveillance footage of the office as the attack went down. She watched as Nanami, for lack of a better word, butchered the entire office as he wielded a giant blunt knife that was wrapped in a white cloth with black spots all over it that was secretly concealed within his briefcase that he brought in that morning.

She wants to vomit.

“Is there anything else that you might be able to tell me involving this incident?” Gojo pries, as he leans back into the chair, placing his feet on the edge of the table. “It was reported that Nanami Kento did have a bit of a soft spot for you leading up to the attack. Is there any chance that he might have mentioned something to you about it?”

Y/N shakes her head, her eyes locked onto two pictures of Nanami that lay on the table. One of him when he was a student, with his long, sandy blonde hair that swooped over both of his eyes to one side, and the other looking as if it had been taken yesterday, with his hair in a professional side part, dressed in his regular two piece attire. “He didn’t mention anything like this. To be frank, I didn’t even know that he contained such power within himself.” Which, to be fair, wasn’t a total lie. Y/N didn’ know that he was a jujutsu sorcerer to begin with. “He was very big on keeping his personal life separate from his professional life.”

She doesn’t dare tell them of the intimate moments that she shared with him the night before. She doesn’t tell them of the note that Nanami left her in her apartment that morning that sits in the back pocket of her pants. To her, in that moment, it feels as if it weighs over a thousand pounds.

It’s the last thing that she has of Nanami. She won’t give it up. Not now, not ever.

Gojo sighs, before taking his feet off the edge of the table, letting his chair lean forward back into its normal position. He digs into one of his pockets and offers her a contact card. “If you remember anything at all, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me. I’d be more than happy to meet you in a different place than this dreary old place.”

He tries to make her laugh, but it’s futile.

“Am I free to leave?”

He nods. “You were never imprisoned here to begin with.”

She gets up, does a 45 degree bow at the waist, and quickly takes her leave, eager to be off the campus of the Jujutsu Technical College campus. There’s a sense of unease that fills her the more time that she spends there.

On the train ride back to her apartment, she pulls the note out of her pocket and reads it through, like it’s the first time. His handwriting is scribbled onto the paper, his characters completely lacking the neat and orderly fashion that she’s so accustomed to seeing from him.

Dearest Y/N,

By the time that you’re reading this, I have no doubt in my mind that the news stations will be reporting on what I’ve done to our co-workers. Or should I say “former”.

I’m sorry that it took me so long to stand up to the rest of them, especially for the sake of what they were doing to you on a daily basis. You didn’t deserve to be treated like you were nothing. You didn’t deserve to be humiliated and bullied by them. I will always be forever regretful that I allowed it to continue on for such a long period of time. I wanted to make things better for you, Y/N.

I’m sorry that this is the way things have to end between the two of us, even though our relationship had only just barely begun. You are the first woman that I’ve encountered in my life that made me want to better myself. Be kinder. More tender with my actions and how I interacted with the world and the people in it.

It’s a shame that I’m reduced to such callous actions on my part.

I’m a coward for running away. I know I am. I know that they’ll be looking for me. They most likely will try to interrogate you, coerce information out of you. I won’t begrudge you if you did. You would be doing the right thing, of course. With the actions I’m about to commit, it surely would be the only way.

I love you.

I should be saying this directly to you, and softly caressing your face while I do so, but this is the next best option. I love you. Granted, we only spent so much time together, but as I’ve said previously before, I’ve grown to care for you. Much more than I initially let on.

I can only hope to see you in the near future, but I don’t know if that will ever come to fruition or not.

Please take care of yourself, Y/N-chan.

-Nanami Kento

Thank you for reading 💕

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x0x0josephinex0x0 · 10 months ago

Text

pretty boy | jeonghan

I can't help myself from writing enemies to lovers Jeonghan, because he provides the source material himself. Also big thanks to Hani @vanillacheol for letting me use her name and likeness to a) provide our MC with a bestie and b) provide Seungcheol with a girlfriend. Anyway, here are the details: Word count: 8.3k Summary: After a complicated first date, you swear to hate Jeonghan forever, but fate has other plans >:) Genre: E2L, academic rivals to lovers, royalty au kind of, college au kind of Warnings: reader is referred to using feminine pronouns and other identifiers, reader is mentioned to be wearing a skirt and a gown on separate instances, Jeonghan calls reader "princess" a lot (because she is), there are pranks mentioned, pressure to choose someone to marry is mentioned, lots of name-calling, a couple of arguments, lots of kissing, some suggestive language, some brief actual bullying (not between Jeonghan and MC), long-hair Jeonghan (def needs a warning), and Jeonghan is an absolute menace as per usual.

“Are you listening to me?” your friend Hani asks, bringing you back down to earth.

The truth is, you hadn’t been listening to her at all. You’d been miles away in your mind, daydreaming of home. “I’m sorry,” you say sheepishly. “Would you mind repeating?”

Hani rolls her eyes. “I was asking,” she says pointedly, “if you’ve got a flight for my birthday ball yet.”

“Of course,” you reply. “Why?”

She fidgets nervously — a telltale sign she’s hiding something. “Oh, no reason,” she says, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

Your grin drops. “He’s coming,” you realize. “Jeonghan is coming to your birthday ball after all.”

“I know what you’re going to say, and I need you to be rational about it. Jeonghan is Seungcheol’s best friend, and I couldn’t just not invite him.” Hani plays with her pearl bracelet, a gift from her boyfriend, and avoids eye contact with you. She’s gotten more assertive since she started her relationship with Seungcheol, the prince of a nearby country, who’d fallen in love with your friend at freshman orientation at your posh private college. They’d been together for a year and a half, and six months ago she never would’ve said any of that to you, carefully concealing her real feelings behind a placid smile.

It’s for this reason you’re grateful for Seungcheol. He’s helped your friend feel confident and strong, and you can tell how much he loves her. He’s also kind and thoughtful and genuine and funny, very down-to-earth despite being a prince, and full of good advice when you need it. Becoming his friend has been a huge perk of the relationship he has with Hani.

The one major downside? Yoon Jeonghan. He’s Seungcheol’s best friend from home, the son of a high-ranking military leader in Seungcheol’s home country, and apparently they were raised like brothers. Unlike sweet and harmless Seungcheol, though, Jeonghan is a devil in disguise. Blessed with the face of a fairy prince, with intellect to match, he was confident to the point of arrogance and seemed to always get exactly what he wanted. He could sweet-talk even the strictest professors into extending deadlines just for him, and had a penchant for connecting especially accommodating students and teachers to job opportunities and networking events and even really nice favors — once he paid for one of the school secretaries to fly to a tropical island with her new husband just because she straightened out an attendance issue for him.

You had butt heads with Jeonghan almost upon first sight, which had coincidentally been on a date that Hani insisted you go on. “You’ll love him,” she had oozed.

“Are you sure you’re not just trying to fulfill your lifelong dream of us dating brothers?” you’d grumbled, trying to avoid showing how nervous you’d been.

“They’re not really brothers,” Hani had reminded you, “but of course I would love it if you dated Jeonghan for real. He’s perfect for you, trust me.”

She’d had to eat her words when you came home from the date soaked to the bone, a murderous glare in your eyes. “He is without a doubt the most bull-headed, self-important, cocky, absolutely despicable human being I’ve ever met. I never want to see him again,” you’d fumed.

“What happened?” Hani had exclaimed, rushing to grab you a towel. She listened sympathetically as you recounted how it had all gone down.

It had actually started off well. Jeonghan struck you as the kind of person who could make a brick wall feel clever and important, and he was a perfect gentleman at first. He’d even addressed you as “my lady”, a reference to your position as eldest princess of a small island country, until you begged him to relax, but the level of decorum he’d approached you with had bolstered your confidence a bit.

“So...princess,” he’d said cautiously after you’d insisted he call you by your name, and you’d rolled your eyes at this. “How’s the island these days?”

“Are you asking me about foreign policy on our date?” you had asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No, I’m asking you about your home,” he’d countered. “What’s it like there? It’s one of the few places I’ve never been.”

“Oh, really?” Your eyes lit up. “Well, it’s much warmer than it is here.”

“Naturally,” Jeonghan had said. “Do you miss that?”

“More than anything,” you’d said, frowning at the snow falling in soft piles outside. “Near the palace is this one stretch of beach -- you sort of have to hike through a small jungle to get there, but nothing too bad, you know -- and when it snows like this I have to remind myself that it still exists and I can go back there one day.”

Jeonghan grinned. “What does it look like?”

“Well, there’s a thick treeline since it’s just past the woods, but that means it’s very private. It’s got the most beautiful sand -- it’s pink!”

“Pink sand?” Jeonghan had repeated, his head propped up by one hand as he gazed at you, rambling on excitedly.

“Yeah, it’s from a micro-organism that lives in the coral reefs that grow around the island. There are a few different pink beaches on our island, but this one is special. Hardly anyone knows about it. Seokmin -- my cousin, you know, the theater major -- found it first, and I’ve been going there ever since.” You caught sight of him watching you and felt your face heat up. “Uh, sorry. I got carried away.”

“No, no, it was cute,” he reassured you, which made you feel even more embarrassed.

“What about you?” you had asked, and you’d listened with rapt attention as Jeonghan had described the mountainous region he hailed from, with so many clever little asides that made you laugh. You were generally more of a “black cat” type personality, but Jeonghan was bringing out an eager, girlish side of you that almost no one got to see. He made you feel like your blood had become carbonated -- like little tiny bubbles were flowing all over your body, all tingly and excited.

The conversation had lasted hours, covering everything from your families (yours was close, his was rather distant) to your favorite foods (seafood for you, fried chicken for him) to the most unusual kinds of music you liked (film scores for you, musical theater songs for him). Finally, with all your food eaten and the drinks all but drained from their fancy bottles, it had come time to talk about education. “If you weren’t a princess, what would you be studying?” Jeonghan had asked.

“I think I would still want to learn about public policy, especially as it relates to nonprofits,” you had replied. “At my core, I want to use what I know to help others, and there’s almost no easier way to do that than improve the legal conditions for charity work.”

Jeonghan nodded thoughtfully. “You might be the biggest nerd I’ve ever met,” he finally said with a grin.

You had gasped, pretending to be scandalized. “Even bigger than you, Mr. Political Science?”

He shook his head. “Imagine how cool I’d have to actually be to be studying poli-sci and still be considered cool.”

“Oh, are you considered cool?” you’d teased. “I hadn’t heard that.” (Which was a lie. When a girl in your dorm had found out who you were going on the date with, she’d almost keyed your car out of jealousy. Jeonghan was notoriously cool.)

He clapped a hand over his chest. “Please don’t wound me like this. My reputation is all I have.”

You looked him up and down in the way that tabloid articles had called your “man-eater move.” “Just your reputation, pretty boy?” you questioned lightly. “How disappointing.”

Jeonghan’s eyes got wide, but he recovered quickly. “I actually have one more thing. Way more important than my reputation.” He said it so seriously that you leaned forward in interest.

“What is it?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

He leaned forward to match you and whispered in your ear softly, “A fully completed Death Star Lego set.”

And you had burst into laughter. People were generally easy for you to read, but Jeonghan took you by surprise every time. The rest of the meal was full of giggles and simmering tension. More than once you caught yourself staring at him and wondering what it’d be like to kiss the smirk right off his gorgeous face.

Which is how you found yourself in the custodian closet at that very restaurant twenty minutes later doing exactly that.

He had begun it -- suggesting a quick bathroom break that you somehow understood with your eyes, and on your way in he’d pulled you right into that tiny closet and pressed his mouth to yours like it might be the last thing he ever did. You were surprised at how strong this lithe boy was as his arms wrapped around your waist, his hands tightening into fists around the fabric of your skirt at your hips as he pressed you up against one of the shelves, knocking several bottles of cleaning wipes onto the floor. You had gasped and pulled away, just enough that you could look at him. “Careful, pretty boy,” you’d hummed breathlessly as you pulled him back for more, and he’d groaned.

“Call me that one more time, princess, I dare you,” he’d murmured against your lips.

“Is that a threat?” you’d whispered back, knotting your fingers into his long hair, perfectly content to let him do whatever it was he’d had in mind.

But then his cellphone, which had somehow slipped out of his pocket onto the floor, rang. Loudly. You both dived for it, worried that someone would hear, and you reached it first. After silencing it, you saw a familiar notification pop up on Jeonghan’s phone.

“No way!” you’d exclaimed quietly. “Are you in Exploration of Debate?” It was an online class you were taking as a general, where you posted anonymously on an online debate forum. The person with the highest number of won debates was the person with the highest grade, and to your chagrin, you were in second place after a devastating loss to “TwinkleToes17”. In fact, so ruthless was TwinkleToes that they’d gained a reputation outside the class as someone who was a pure psychopath, willing and ready to twist every word to their advantage. It seemed like everyone on campus had heard of this person.

Which is why you’d burst out of the closet two minutes after. “I can’t believe this,” you’d yelled, not caring that the other restaurant patrons and the wait staff were staring at you. You’d ripped your coat off your chair, grabbed your bag, and ran out into the wet, snowy evening, Jeonghan hot on your trail.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset. It’s a class,” he’d insisted, jogging to keep up with your dramatic pace, a laugh in his voice that only made your anger more overwhelming.

“Okay, firstly, even outside the class everyone knows you’re a monster,” you’d said. “And secondly, you manipulated me and twisted every word that I said to win that debate.” The third thing, which you hadn’t said, is that you couldn’t bear looking stupid in front of anyone, even if no one knew it was you. Mistaken, fine. Naive, sure. But never stupid.

And Jeonghan had made you look really stupid.

So you’d ignored his repeated calls after you, until he’d finally got frustrated and stopped following you. You’d walked the entire five kilometers home in the snow, arriving soaked and cold and grumpier than you’d possibly ever been. Worse was when you shared classes with Jeonghan for the next two semesters, unraveling your plan to never see him again.

When recounting this story to Hani, you left out the part about the short-lived makeout session in the closet and the undeniable chemistry between the two of you. You, instead, focused on the massive betrayal of learning about his online activities, Hani had scolded you for being too stubborn, prideful, and competitive, and that had been the end of it.

But the true rivalry had begun six months ago. You had had to go over to Seungcheol’s apartment to take care of Hani while he was away. Hani usually stayed at his place when she was sick, mainly because Seungcheol was the world’s biggest worrywart and called her constantly when he couldn’t be there while she wasn’t feeling her best.

So you had driven to his place, to hopefully ease some of her suffering (and Seungcheol’s), completely forgetting who he lived with. To your shock, it was Jeonghan who answered the door. “Ah, princess,” he’d exclaimed. “Welcome.”

The way he’d beamed when he saw you was infuriating. Peeking around his shoulder, you made venomous eye contact with Hani, who was sitting in a heap on the couch, her eyes red and watery with her illness. “How are you?” you asked, pointedly stepping around Jeonghan to go to her.

“I’m suffering,” she said. “But Jeonghan has been taking really good care of me.”

“Has he, now,” you’d said in a deadpan voice.

“Well, now that you’re here, I need to run some errands,” Jeonghan had said, quickly excusing himself to go to the grocery store. You had tended to Hani while he left, not turning when he’d called a goodbye over his shoulder as he stepped out into the night.

Watching Hani was mostly uneventful. You brought her water when she finished her glass and watched TV together until Seungcheol came back. As you’d stood up to leave Hani and Seungcheol, who were snuggled together on the couch, Hani asked if you would grab the ibuprofen out of Jeonghan’s bathroom.

You had been surprised (and a little annoyed) at how clean it was inside, but he had left his toothbrush out on the counter, which immediately made you think of the fluorescent blue dye you had in your bag that you had needed for a recent experiment in your geology class. The dye, coincidentally, was colorless until it reacted to saliva, and stained everything around it a shocking shade of blue for several hours before fading completely. You had tried to be good, you really had -- you’d almost left the bathroom without doing anything to the toothbrush -- but there was a petty streak in you that desperately wanted Jeonghan to feel even one bit as foolish as he’d made you feel. Plus, when were you ever going to get an opportunity like this again?

This had been the beginning of the prank war between you and Jeonghan. The following week, you’d come home to a flock of confused pigeons trapped in your apartment. “Where did he even get a flock of pigeons?” you had muttered as you mopped your hardwood floors free of all the lingering gifts that the birds had left for you.

“Beats me,” Hani said, spraying your tabletop with cleanser. “But I think this is a good learning experience for you. Jeonghan is really sweet, but he’s competitive, and he’ll do anything to win.”

“Oh, but I’m the exact same way,” you’d told her with a grim determination.

And so, it had continued. One week you were swapping out Jeonghan’s bar of soap for one that was almost identical but had a particularly itchy ingredient, the next week Jeonghan rearranged the letters on your keyboard and made it nearly impossible for you to finish your assignments in time, the week following you stole his textbooks and replaced them with poorly written erotic novels.

The pranks had only escalated the academic rivalry you’d had, especially as the two of you had striven to derail the other. When the exam results came out, you were elated to learn that despite Jeonghan’s efforts, you had come out of the semester at the top of the class — with Jeonghan just below you at number 2, by .02 points. Now, as you were about to fly to Hani’s birthday ball during spring break, your elation has been crushed. “Are you still going to come?” Hani asks, giving you her big sad eyes that you can’t say no to.

And because this is Hani, who knows you better than anyone and has always been there for you, you already know what you have to say. “Of course I’m going to come,” you reassure her. “It’s your birthday. I suppose I knew he’d probably end up deciding to come. But I’ll be darned if I let a man get between us.” You can’t suppress an eye roll. “Especially not that man.”

“You’re the best!” Hani exclaims. “Do you have a dress yet?”

“I have a few options,” you say. “I’ll take them with me so we can try things on together and you can help me choose.” You grin at her squeal of delight and try not to think about all the strategizing you’re going to have to do to avoid Jeonghan at the ball.

******

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you groan.

Jeonghan grins from the seat beside yours. “What? Did you want the window seat?” he asks, pointing out the small window of the airplane. It’s one of those huge jets with two stories, built for a seventeen-hour flight across the world, and yet, of all the seats you could be sitting in, of course Jeonghan is sitting in the next one over.

You huff as you sit down. “Why didn’t you fly with Cheol?”

“He flew with Hani,” Jeonghan replies. “I didn’t want to third-wheel for that many hours in a row.”

That’s honestly pretty fair, but you can’t let him see you agree, so you roll your eyes. “Well, this is actually good. I needed to talk to you.”

“About?”

“The ball. We have to call a truce on our war.”

“Our war?” Jeonghan repeats with a raised eyebrow.

You clear your throat. “Our...rivalry.”

“I would call it a ‘friendly competition’,” he tells you.

“It’s really not that friendly,” you snap, and rifle in your bag for your headphones. “And it doesn’t matter what you call it, we just need to be well-behaved and civil during the ball because I will not have you or anyone else ruining Hani’s birthday party.”

“Well, I can’t promise to be well-behaved, but I promise I won’t ruin Hani’s party,” he comforts.

You shake your head. “I guess that’s the best I could really hope for,” you grumble. Unable to locate your headphones, you toss your bag under your seat in frustration.

“What did that poor bag ever do to you?” Jeonghan asks.

“I can’t find my headphones,” you hiss.

“I brought an extra pair.”

You stare at him. “You did not.”

“I truly, truly did,” he says. “Would you like to use them?”

“What will it cost me?”

“Nothing,” he says, grinning. “Let’s call it a mark of our truce.” He pulls them out of his bag and hands them to you, and you accept them, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Do they zap your ears when you put them in?” you ask nervously.

“No,” he says, taking one bud and putting it in his own ear. “Just regular old headphones.”

So you put one of them in, bracing yourself. Nothing happens, but the way Jeonghan is watching you is making you worried. “Forgive me if I’m a little wary after the pen incident.” (You were, of course, referring to a prank Jeonghan had pulled where he had replaced your pen with one that shocked you at random intervals.)

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “I’m not trying to make your life miserable, princess. Actually, right now, I’m trying to make your life easier.” He leans back against his seat’s headrest and closes his eyes. “It’s not going to kill you to trust me a little.”

You shoot him a dubious look before acquiescing, slipping the other bud into your ear. No shock. You decide he’s probably telling the truth, and you listen to an audiobook while you wait for the plane to take off.

Hours later, after you’ve watched the sunset fade to black outside Jeonghan’s window, and after watching two movies and dozing off during a third, you jolt awake to a sudden dip of the plane. Blinking rapidly, you try to make sense of your surroundings, and the first thing you register is a hand clasping your own.

You look over, mortified, to see Jeonghan staring at you. But instead of the sneer you expected, his expression is serious and kind. “Are you okay?” he asks, squeezing your hand comfortingly.

“I’m fine,” you say, although your voice is shaking and you can’t bring yourself to let go of his hand even though it’s embarrassing.

“You’re scared of flying?” he asks you quietly.

“Not enough to not do it,” you reply. Maybe it’s the look in his eyes that makes you think that you’ve stepped outside the incessant teasing that has been the hallmark of your relationship with this man, but you find yourself saying, “I feel like I should be used to it already.” Immediately you begin to worry about how Jeonghan might use this weakness against you, but he just looks at you.

“Well, if it makes any difference,” he finally says, “you’re handling it pretty well.” He gives your hand a squeeze.

This is just too weird. The weirdest part is, it doesn’t feel weird at all -- not talking with him, not holding his hand, not even the way he looks at you. For a second, you remember how intently Jeonghan had listened to you speak at that dinner all those months ago. This seems much more like the person you thought he was before you’d found out he’d destroyed you in an anonymous online debate. And, terrifyingly, this was a person you could see yourself falling deeply into, with no hope of escape.

The plane lurches again, and you close your eyes and breathe deeply through your nose. A low chuckle from Jeonghan makes you shoot him an annoyed look.

He shrugs. “Sorry,” he says. “I don’t mean to laugh at you, I’m just surprised.”

“Why?” you ask through gritted teeth.

“Because,” he says, as though choosing his words very carefully. “You don’t strike me as the kind of person who’s scared of anything.”

His tone is -- dare you say it? -- respectful, almost awed, full of admiration.

“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you remind him, swallowing nervously.

He purses his lips. “Sad, but true.”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

He leans back in his seat again, closing his eyes. “Figure it out, princess,” he whispers, before falling asleep with your hand clenched around his.

******

The night before the ball, you’re on a video chat with your little sister when your dad enters the frame.

“How’s my girl doing?” the king asks, and you have to smile. Your dad is really an amazing leader, and an even better dad.

“I’m good,” you say. “Just three more days before I’m home!”

“We’re so excited to have you back,” your sister chimes in, and your dad nods enthusiastically.

“Can I have a word with your sister?” your dad asks her, and she skips away with a quick “bye!”

“What’s up?” you ask.

“There’s been a little bit of tension on the mainland lately,” your dad confesses. “Nothing too concerning, but we want to nip it in the bud. I think it’s time for you to think about your future.”

You know when he says “future” he means “marriage”, and your heart sinks. As the eldest child, you will inherit the crown once your father retires. His hair and beard are grayer every time you see him, and you’ve known for awhile that he’s feeling a bit exhausted. “I am thinking about it,” you admit. “I’ve been going on dates.”

“Anything promising?” your dad asks hopefully.

You fiddle with your shirt hem, hesitating before you answer. The truth is, only one date you’ve been on since college is memorable at all. You try not to think about Jeonghan’s smirk and the way he’d made you laugh and holding his hand on basically the entire seventeen-hour flight over and most importantly his lips against yours in that dusty custodian’s closet before shaking your head. “Not really,” you confess. “Most politicians are really boring.”

Your dad scoffs. “Tell me about it.” He sighs. “Well, I’m not trying to force you into anything, but maybe the ball can be a good networking event for you. I heard that Prince Chan will be there.”

Prince Chan was internationally famous for being a real-life “Prince Charming” -- the perfect gentleman, always smiling, handsome as a fairytale prince. Your country was off his country’s southern coast, so his home was close to yours. “That might be a good political move.”

“And Prince Seungcheol will be there, and the general’s son, I forget his name...” Your dad trails off, but you know who he means, and you rush to put an end to those thoughts.

“Seungcheol is dating Hani,” you remind your dad quickly. “And Jeonghan -- the general’s son -- is...not an option either.”

“Okay,” your dad says, not catching the unspoken information in your tone. “Well, you’ll have boots on the ground, so just try, okay? And we can talk about it when you get back.”

You finish your talk and hang up, looking up at the vaulted ceiling of your guest bedroom in Hani’s parents’ palace. It was a curse to be the heir to the throne sometimes. The weight of your mantle was often so heavy it felt crushing. Your country was a small one, inhabited by gentle people. Military power, the nuances of war, conquest — none of these things were built into your culture. You weren’t sure what you’d do if things went south.

Sighing, you head to the bathroom to start getting ready for bed. When you emerge from your shower and as you’re brushing your hair, the wind starts to pick up from outside. By the time you get into bed, a storm is raging outside. This, coupled with the thoughts swirling relentlessly around you head, has you thoroughly wound up and incapable of sleeping.

So you wrap yourself in a dressing gown and head up the corridor toward the spiral staircase that leads to the library. One thing that always helps you sleep is a familiar book. You wander between the dim shelves, only lit by a few strategically placed lamps, as the thunder gets louder and louder. Finally, you’re able to locate a copy of Frances Hodgson Burnett’s Secret Garden, which you take from the shelf, cozying up in a large armchair to read by one of the lamps.

A few pages in, you’re nearly startled to death by a voice from behind you. “What are you doing awake?”

You jump out of the chair and whirl around. “Jeonghan!” you whisper-shout. “For the love of all that is holy, you scared me.”

He gives a small smile. “Sorry, princess.” He’s also in his PJs, his shoulder-length hair still wet from a shower, and there are dark circles under his eyes that make him look more gaunt and melancholy than usual — a vampire rather than his standard fairy. It’s especially pronounced in the low lamplight.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says simply.

“Why not?”

“‘Cause you couldn’t sleep. I sensed you coming in here.”

You scoff. “What nonsense,” you say.

“I’m serious. We’re soulmates.” Jeonghan’s grin has turned sly.

“Don’t be difficult,” you snap. “Was there a real reason you wanted to share, or — ?”

But then a bolt of lightning briefly illuminates the library in bright white light. The following clap of thunder is so loud it seems to shake the library. Jeonghan cringes and claps his hands to his ears before eyeing you warily.

You point a finger at him. “You’re scared of thunderstorms?” you guess.

He blushes. “Scared is a strong word.”

He cowers as the lightning flashes again, plugging his ears preemptively to avoid the massive clap of thunder. “You’re totally terrified,” you say when he finally takes his fingers out of his ears. “Well, this is just perfect.”

“That seems like a strong word, too,” he grumbles, coming to sit in the chair next to yours. “Perfect, how?”

“Now I know your weakness, and you know mine,” you explain, turning your attention back to your book. “We’re even.”

You couldn’t be more shocked when Jeonghan snakes a cold hand onto your wrist. When you gape at him, he looks at you with wide, innocent eyes. “I held your hand during the turbulence,” he reminds you. “So this is actually how you get even.”

This is hard to argue with, so you just keep reading with his fingers wrapped around your hand. “Do what you need to do, pretty boy,” you sigh.

His sharp intake of air makes you look up from your book. “What?”

“You need to stop calling me that,” Jeonghan says quietly.

“Or what?” you say, shutting your book with a snap.

“Or I’ll lose my mind,” he says in a strained tone. His jaw is clenched, his cheeks are flushed, and his palm on your wrist has become clammy with sweat. “I thought it would be easier to be close to you, but you insist on making my life harder, don’t you?”

This hits you like a punch in the gut. Glaring, you wrench your hand from Jeonghan’s grasp. “You don’t have to talk to me, Jeonghan. It’s perfectly alright for you to ignore me if it’s that hard for you to stand interacting with me.” Suddenly the library doesn’t feel big enough for you and Jeonghan to occupy the space at the same time -- as if all the air has been sucked out of the room. You jump from the armchair and turn on your heel, your robe blowing out behind you.

But Jeonghan is following you again -- and it’s so reminiscent of that first night that you almost laugh. “I don’t understand how you’re not as tortured as I am,” he calls after you. “That’s part of what makes me so insane.”

“Who says I’m not? You’re absolutely agonizing to be around,” you shoot back over your shoulder.

“No, you don’t understand,” he says, and he catches you by the arm, whirling you around so that you face him. You try to shake free, but his grip is iron-strong. “It’s like you’re barely affected by my presence. You don’t feel this constant draw -- this constant need to --

“To what, Jeonghan?” you ask, taking a step forward. “Finish the sentence. To what?”

Your faces are inches apart, the tension between you so thick you could cut it with a knife, and Jeonghan flexes his jaw and swallows hard before his gaze flicks down to your lips. You’re breathing too hard, your pulse too quick, your face hot. He inches closer -- the tips of your noses nearly touching, and when he whispers, it’s in a husky tone that sends chills down your spine. “It’s impossible for me to understand how you don’t seem to think about what happened between us. For you, it’s like it never happened. For me...I think about it every day.”

He’s so close you can smell the peppermint toothpaste on his breath. So close that if you even slightly moved forward, your lips would meet.

And then lightning strikes again. Jeonghan lets go of your arm, takes a step back, nods to you like he would an acquaintance from class, and leaves you alone in the library, where you lean, trembling, against a bookshelf just as the more distant clap of thunder rings out. You have to place a hand over your chest to soothe the frantic beating of your heart. The rest of the night is sleepless -- you toss and turn, wondering what on earth has just happened between you and Jeonghan.

******

“Is Hani ready?” Seungcheol asks, meeting you halfway up the stairs.

“Almost,” you say, adjusting your pearl necklace so the clasp is in the back. “And she gave me explicit instructions that you are to stay at the bottom of the stairs. She wants that movie moment. And you are going to give it to her, because it’s her birthday.”

Seungcheol follows you back down the stairs. “So, Jeonghan’s been weird today,” he says, a question in his tone.

“He’s always weird,” you say shortly.

“Weirder than usual. You look great, by the way,” he tells you, gesturing at the glittering white dress you’re wearing. It hugs your frame with a corseted top, cascading like sea foam down your hips and ending in a train. Hani had picked it out, saying that it matched your small pearl-encrusted crown the best, but you also suspected that she knew it was your most devastating look.

“Thanks,” you say to Seungcheol. “Wait until you see Hani.”

He’s so down bad he even smiles just at the sound of her name. “I can’t wait.”

“And about Jeonghan,” you continue. “Did he tell you -- anything?”

Seungcheol gives you a stern look. “Should he have? Did anything happen last night?”

“There was a thunderstorm,” you say quickly.

“Ah,” Seungcheol says, his gaze a little too understanding. “Jeonghan is scared of thunderstorms.”

You nod, refusing to answer the question he isn’t asking. Luckily, you’re saved by the arrival of Hani at the top of the stairs, looking absolutely stunning in the prettiest blue dress. Seungcheol’s whole face transforms into a picture of joy. “Wow,” he breathes.

You can see her beaming from here. You decide to let them have their moment by themselves, and instead push through the magnificent double doors into the ballroom. As your eyes scan the crowd, you try to believe that you’re not looking for Jeonghan, but there has been a knot in your chest since last night, and you somehow sense he is the only person who can do anything about it. Before landing on Jeonghan, though, your eyes land on Prince Chan. You remember your dad’s request and plaster on your most winning smile as you approach him.

“Hello, Prince Chan,” you say, curtsying low to him. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

He’s just as handsome as everyone has said, and he’s smiling just as kindly as you’d expect. “It’s a beautiful party,” he says. “The hostess is your best friend, right?”

“She is,” you confirm. “Princess Hani is wonderful. Have you ever met her?”

“Only a handful of times. We were kids,” he explains. “But everyone speaks highly of her.”

You nod. “So, how are things on the mainland?” you ask, changing the subject.

You pass a few pleasant minutes discussing his interests, the state of his country’s affairs, and you. After awhile, a very territorial woman comes to stand between you and Prince Chan, interrupting your conversation. He shoots you an apologetic look over her shoulder, and you wave him off with a small smile and a bow, backing away.

“Already causing problems, I see,” says a familiar voice.

You turn to see him -- Jeonghan, in his decorated military uniform, looking far more handsome and ethereal than he had any right to. You stick up your chin. “Well, it wasn’t my intention,” you say. “He was standing alone.”

“What a kind soul you are,” Jeonghan says drily as Hani makes her grand entrance.

You pause in your bickering to applaud her, beaming and embracing her as she comes to greet you. “Do you feel beautiful?” you ask her.

“Yes, I do,” she tells you. “Thank you for always being here.”

After she walks away to greet her other guests, you turn back to Jeonghan. “So, do you have anything else to say to me? Or do you have more pigeons to sedate and put in my bedroom?”

He grins. “As tempting as that is, I have plenty more to say to you.”

Just then, the music starts, and before Jeonghan can offer you his arm to escort you onto the floor, you are turning to the nearest passing gentleman and asking him to dance. Jeonghan follows suit, escorting a pretty redhead in a yellow dress into the space right beside you. As you begin the steps of the dance, you make polite conversation with your partner, whose name you have already forgotten. Jeonghan seems to be vaguely paying attention to his own partner as she rambles on good-naturedly, but his eyes never leave you. His scorching looks from across the dance column have heat rising in your cheeks and the back of your neck, and a funny swooping feeling in your stomach, almost like you’ve done a massive drop on a roller coaster.

At the end of the dance, you politely bow to your partner and are just about to scurry away when Jeonghan catches your hand. “One dance,” he begs. “Please.”

And his eyes are searing with some barely-concealed passion, his skin unnecessarily flushed and his jaw set in a hard line, and you open your mouth — to refuse him, you remind yourself — but nothing comes out, leaving Jeonghan free to pull you back into the dance floor and into his arms for the waltz.

You have done a simple waltz a thousand times — maybe hundreds of thousands at this point. Your feet are familiar with the steps and the turns. It’s simple enough to do. But waltzing with Jeonghan is like trying to speak a language you’ve never heard before. Pressed against his body, his hand burning into the small of your back through your dress, you find yourself unable to meet his eyes as he leads you through the steps. Something about him holding you like this is reminding you forcefully of that distant janitor’s closet, and this is making it impossible for you to look at him for fear of what it might do to you. So, with your heart pounding in your ears, you fixate on the top button of Jeonghan’s uniform and let him whirl you around, until it feels like everything else has faded away but the music and his arms around you. You can feel the weight of his gaze, but you don’t look up until the very last strains of the song are fading away.

And as you do, Jeonghan’s angelic face breaks into a smile that could make the devil repent. He’s so unbearably beautiful that you actually feel your breath hiss out of you, stolen by his smile. You realize that it doesn’t matter how much you pranked him or ignored him or rejected him or lied to yourself — there was absolutely nothing that could have kept you from falling in love with him.

Just at this moment of revelation, someone taps Jeonghan’s shoulder. “Sorry to interrupt,” Prince Chan says.

“It’s no trouble,” Jeonghan says. He’s still partially holding you in his arms, and you are still struggling to remember how to breathe, but Prince Chan seems not to notice or care.

“Would you mind if I had the next dance?” he asks, looking between the two of you.

You find it impossible to speak, so you just nod in assent. Jeonghan gives your hand to Chan, looking mildly crestfallen, and you try to get your crap together before the music starts.

You successfully collect yourself enough to look Prince Chan in the face. He’s smiling at you, but his eyes are a little too understanding. “Jeonghan’s great, huh?” he asks.

You try to laugh, but it comes out choked and awkward. “He’s a bit too charming for his own good,” is all you’re willing to admit.

Chan nods in agreement. “He’s interesting. Most people like to show their very best selves to others, and you find out the bad stuff the more you get to know them. But Jeonghan kind of does the opposite.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he’ll be crafty and cunning up front, but he’s actually very kind. And you only get to see that if you get close to him.”

“How do you know?” you ask.

Chan glances over at Jeonghan. “I actually stayed with his family for a month while my mother was sick,” he explains. “Jeonghan had gone through something similar, and he was a big help to me. Of course he still drove me crazy sometimes,” he adds with a laugh, “but he’s solid gold all the way through. You just have to crack him open a bit to see it.”

You’re silent, chewing on this information, when all of a sudden, someone tosses the contents of their wine glass at you, coating your gown in a deep red stain. You gasp and look over to see Jeonghan with his current dance partner -- who is holding her empty wine glass and grinning wickedly at you. You recognize her as the one who interrupted your earlier conversation with Chan. “Oops,” she says.

Your eyes bounce between Jeonghan and the girl. “I need to go change,” you say to Chan. “Please excuse me.”

Chan’s glaring at the girl, and he nods to acknowledge he heard you. You immediately turn away from Jeonghan’s wide-eyed stare, hugging your arms to your chest and heading straight for Hani and Seungcheol. “Some psycho threw her wine on me,” you whisper to her. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” she asks with concern.

You muster a weak smile. “No, you stay and enjoy your party.”

“I’m going to go escort the psycho out of here,” Seungcheol says, his eyes focused behind you on where you’ve left Chan and the girl and Jeonghan. You look over your shoulder to see Jeonghan leaning in close to the girl and whispering something in her ear, and this is the final straw. A part of you wonders if he planned it himself -- even after you asked him not to ruin things. So you turn on your heel and flee from the ballroom, running up the stairs and heading toward the library.

The tears start the minute you cross the threshold. You hate crying, and hate being a cliche damsel in distress, but the lack of sleep, the confusion about your own feelings, and the blatant bullying you’ve experienced have overwhelmed you, and it’s hard to stop yourself from collapsing into full-blown sobs. You only have a few seconds to cry by yourself between the bookshelves, however, before you hear someone’s footsteps sprinting into the library.

“Princess?”

Oh, no.

You try not to make any noise so that he won’t find you, but Jeonghan still rounds the corner and finds you. You immediately turn your back to him, wiping your eyes as you face the bookshelf. You can hear him approaching you slowly. “Princess?” he repeats.

You slowly turn over your shoulder to face him, looking him in the eye. You know you probably look ridiculous, but you still have to ask. “Was that your idea of a prank?” you say in a hard voice.

“Not at all,” he replies, his voice equally sharp. “Seungcheol and I threw her out ourselves.”

“You did?” you squeak.

He gives you a sad smile. “Of course. She’s never going to be within fifty miles of you ever again if I can help it.”

You nod, looking at your feet. “Well, that’s good. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Jeonghan hesitates, then takes another step forward. “I need to talk to you,” he says.

You avoid his gaze and back up a little, right into the bookshelf. “I don’t see what we have left to talk about,” you hedge.

“Are we back to the bickering?” he asks, sounding frustrated. He steps forward again, nearly toe-to-toe with you, and brings a hand up to your chin, tugging on it gently. “Need you to look at me, princess.”

You lift your eyes to him and are once again overwhelmed by his closeness. You can’t help the deep breath you take at the sight of him. “Why do you keep pretending you hate me?” Jeonghan asks you quietly.

“What do you mean?” you reply.

“I know you don’t really hate me,” he explains. “I’ve known it for months. But I just don’t know why you can’t admit it to yourself. I wish you’d just let it go.” When you don’t reply, he sighs. “I’ve never met anyone as stubborn as you. You truly have no equal.”

Your emotions are so overwhelming and close to the surface that this light barb stings a lot more than Jeonghan probably intended. And this sends you over the edge. You bat his hand away and whisper-yell, “Well, you’re selfish, and conceited, and self-important, and conniving, and I don’t know why I --”

But you stop yourself before you give yourself away. Jeonghan impulsively brings his hands to both sides of your face, trapping you in. “Finish the sentence,” he demands. “You don’t know why you...what?”

But the answer won’t come, stuck between your heart and your voicebox, your stubborn mind trying fruitlessly to bar Jeonghan from knowing the truth. But, as is always the case in all the love stories you’ve ever read, the heart is too strong for the mind, and for a moment, it overcomes all rational thought and takes control over your hands. You grab Jeonghan by the collar and pull his lips to yours.

No amount of shock could keep Jeonghan from responding to your kiss. Ever quick on his feet, he brings a hand to the back of your neck so that he can move you in just the way he wants to, and you, for the first time in forever, let go of your need to sort through all your feelings and make them make sense, and give in to your heart entirely. You don't have to think with Jeonghan -- he takes charge in a way that makes your knees feel weak, and you cling to him desperately to avoid toppling over. Jeonghan kisses with even more passion than he had in that closet, with enough fire that you think you both might combust. His lips are searing and insistent, and you melt into his arms. Instinctively, you tangle your fingers in his hair, and he gives a throaty chuckle. “Careful, princess,” he whispers between kisses, and you hum against his lips in bliss.

Eventually, his kisses turn soft and sweet, slowing down to a pace where you can both catch your breath. And then he pulls away. The sight of him with his hair ruffled from your hands and his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright makes you giggle, and he beams at you, his gaze flicking to your lips again. “Wait,” you say before he can kiss you again. “I like you.”

“Duh,” he says with a laugh in his voice.

You swat his arm. “I mean it. I don’t understand how, or why, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the night we met. And compared to you, everyone seems so...dull.” He’s smirking now, and you swat at him again. “Stop it! I’m trying to be sincere.”

“I can’t help it,” he complains, and he’s looking at you so fondly that it’s dangerous. “You’re so cute. And I love to listen to you speak, but when you speak you move your mouth, and suddenly that’s just become so incredibly distracting for me.”

“My lips are distracting?” you repeat, wrinkling your nose in disgust at how corny it is.

“Well, they always were,” Jeonghan admits. “But right now...” He leans in, gives you a peck, and then runs a hand through his disheveled hair and groans. “Oh, it’s nearly too much.”

You giggle again. “You’re truly obsessed with me, aren’t you?”

“Embarrassingly so,” he says proudly. “Why else do you think I bribed the person who would’ve sat next to you on the plane to take my seat on Seungcheol and Hani’s flight?”

“You switched flights to travel with me?” Yesterday, this would’ve been annoying to learn -- but now, it’s a little endearing.

He nods. “And I switched classes so that I could take them with you. I’m still going to do that until we graduate, mind you, so if you could please avoid the eight o’clock classes, I would appreciate that so much.”

You tsk in fond exasperation at him. “And all of this time, you didn’t think to tell me that you’re --”

“Head over heels for you? Well, I sort of felt like it probably wouldn’t have gone over well. So I bided my time. And it was worth the wait,” he says, clasping one of your hands to his chest. “There’s absolutely no one like you, princess. You’re the best person I’ve ever met.”

You shake your head, although on the inside you feel like angels are singing. “What an end to our war,” you say, snaking your arms around Jeonghan’s shoulders.

“War is such a strong word,” Jeonghan complains. “It was barely a scuffle.”

“You filled my room with pigeons.”

“And that was low-hanging fruit for me.”

“You’re shameless.”

“Entirely,” he agrees. “Which is why I have no plans to return to that ball anytime soon.” He gives you a mischievous smile and once again looks at your lips.

“I can’t miss my best friend’s entire birthday party,” you remind him, playing with a lock of his hair shyly.

“Hmm,” he says thoughtfully. “That is a predicament. Might I suggest a compromise?”

“Indubitably,” you say, playing along with his posh tone.

He scoffs. “We go back in an hour. We stay to watch her open her gifts. And then we meet back here.”

“To do what?” you ask him, giving him your own dangerous grin.

“What an excellent question, princess,” he says, leaning in and kissing you deeply and slowly before pulling away just slightly and brushing a stray hair from your face. “I guess we’ll have to play it by ear,” he finally tells you in a low voice. “How does that sound?”

“It sounds perfect,” you sigh, and then you smirk at him. “Pretty boy,” you add as an afterthought.

His eyes darken. “I’m going to make you regret that,” he threatens. And as he kisses you into oblivion once again, you seriously doubt it.

#seventeen #svt #svt fic #svt fanfic #svt imagines #svt x reader #jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan x you

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