mxria__502

Tags: Highschool!Gojo x Highschool!Reader, fluff

Summary: As you approach the end of high school, you have one mission in mind - don't throttle Satoru Gojo by the throat from sheer frustration. You've always had your fair share of troubles as the student council president, but none of them could ever compare to the  resident menace of your school. Petty, rude, egoistic (and pretty in ways that drove you mad because why was this man’s lashes better than yours???) - Satoru was everything you loathed in a guy. But what will happen when you’re forced to work with him on the project that makes up a huge portion of your grade - where egos clash and unfamiliar jealousy flares up?

wc: 6.2k

You could proudly say, with the utmost certainty, that the precise moment your life had gone to shit, an absolute train wreck in slow motion, was when you met Satoru Gojo.

Satoru Gojo. If one was asked to describe him, words would not suffice. Not because of any particularly charitable nature his brittle, shrivelled up heart possessed - he might as well wear a collar of being a public nuisance to any individual who had the misfortune of crossing paths with him.

And oh did he wear that collar with pride.

Sweat prickled at the collar of your school blazer as the morning assembly droned on - a neverending monologue of teachers handing out awards for the extracurricular achievements of students. Tapping your feet impatiently backstage, you clutched the assembly’s script. Your finger traced the margin filled with your hastily scrawled corrections - glasses sliding down the slope of your nose. You were supposed to be on stage next to announce the charity fundraiser carnival and the winners of the interschool five hundred metre sprint.

Thwack!

Greedy, grubby fingers looped around your hair tie and tugged it back, letting it meet the back of your head with a resounding sound.

“Oops.” Satoru grinned unrepentantly, azure eyes twinkling in the faded backstage lights as he tugged you to come stand beside him. “Sorry prez, my hand slipped.”

“Yeah and I’m Queen Elizabeth’s grandmother.” Your eye twitched. That voice. That smug cadence to the lilt of his words - nothing else could quite drive you to the brink of slamming your head against the nearest wall like it.

“I can see it, actually.” He nodded and without warning, bought his face inches from yours. Satoru made a show of inspecting your skin, eyes narrowed. “Yeah, look at all those wrinkles! Like a little raisin! Oh, are those a couple grey hairs there?”

“No, shut up-” You hissed, jabbing an elbow against his ribs. “I need to be on stage soon!”

“Puh-lease.” He drawled, elongating each syllabus. “You’re not even doing much. You just need to stand there prettily and announce my name as the sprint’s winner.”

Yeah.

Much to your absolute fury, this guy kept winning. Every. Single. Week.

Last week, it had been a swimming competition he’d nabbed first place at. The week before, a long jump event. (Did the gods get some kind of sick pleasure watching you hand him medals each time!?)

“I won that creative writing tournament though. Your essay was so bad, it made me want to cry of shame.” Leaning against a wall, you raised an unimpressed brow. 

Satoru smirked, leaning forward till you could see the flecks of silver in his pupils. Tutting your name, he continued “You’re slipping though. I scored more than you in yesterday’s Physics test.”

“By one point.”

“Still counts.”

“Does not.”

“So does.”

“It doesn’t because it’s a very miniscule difference and my GPA is still higher than yours!” You hated how your voice rose defensively, the way your fists clenched and nose scrunched up whenever Satoru came within your vicinity. He didn’t just get under your skin, he crawled into it and kept pulling at each nerve until he knew you’d explode.

“La da da da, you’re just saying nonsense!” Clamping his hands over his ears, Satoru spun away from you - tufts of white hair peeking between fingers. 

“Why you-”

Your attention snapped away from him when the teacher finished talking and hobbled away. Taking your cue, you stepped onto the podium and adjusted the mic to your height.

The address about the carnival went smoothly, just regular student council business. Students clapped, some chattered excitedly amongst each other about the stalls.

At long last, you arrived at what you’d been dreading the most. Maintaining your smile, you glanced up. “During the weekend, our school’s field saw many athletes from all over the district. We witnessed outstanding performance from all those who participated and I’m proud to say it was our school that nabbed the interschool trophy! I’d like to award Sato-”

You’d barely gotten through half of his name when Satoru barrelled past you, his smile blinding. Glancing back, he shot you a wink, mouthing the words “Too slow, prez.”

He stood smugly as you hung the gold medal over his neck, making a show of flexing his shoulders. Rocking slightly on the soles of his shoes, Satoru soaked up the cheers of the students while you fought the urge to roll your eyes.

“Don’t be too glum, prez.” He snickered as you both walked backstage, the stage’s curtains closing at your departure. “You can come to my volleyball match next week.”

“I’d rather die.”

“And rob me of your adorably puffy company?” Satoru cooed, pinching your cheeks.

Swatting his hands off, you asked “Since when do you even play volleyball?”

“Since two weeks ago.”

You stared at him, your mind buffering like one of the ancient computers in your grandma’s basement. “Two…….weeks?”

“What,” Satoru looked at you sideways, strands of white hair falling across his face. “like it’s hard?”

Fuck, you hated prodigies.

---

It was an ordinary morning, as ordinary as any morning for an overworked student could be. Your head throbbed, temples violently protesting against pinpricks of pain. The council had you stretched thin - stall areas had to be allocated, people had begun arguing over roles and if you had to hear the art team fight over poster designs one more time, you’d lose your shit.

You barely registered the bell ring, marking the end of your history class. The words in your notebook swam in your vision, your eyes drooped. Your head lolled forward, the sweet bliss of sleep about to welcome you in its embrace-

“Yo prez!” Satoru boomed, his sneakers screeching as he slid to a halt in front of your desk. “Are you auditioning for the mummy?”

“W-what!?” You shot up, sitting straight, eyes wide. What time was it? Where were you?

His fingers flicked your forehead slightly and he shot you the smuggest, most shit eating grin known to mankind. “You look like shit. How are you supposed to keep up with me in maths when your eyebags are deeper than the Mariana trench?”

“I was just cosplaying as you.” Quipping back at him, you stood up and gathered your notes. 

His hand shot out, grabbing your arm gently. “I’m the best looking guy in this place and you know it.” Satoru batted his lashes at you, pressing a palm against his chest with all the theatrics only he was capable of.

It was absurd, why did the sunlight have to catch perfectly against his lashes and reveal the depth of his blue eyes? Why did his pupils have to swim with so many hues of cerulean? Just why did god have to give him the face of an angel only to pair it with the most horrid personality mankind had the misfortune of coexisting with?

“What do you even want?” You snapped, “Some of us have work to do.”

Letting go of your arm, he asked “Didn’t you pay attention in class?”

Oh no.

You grimaced. Your heart sank.

Satoru only spoke like that when he had something to hold over your head. In fifth grade, it had been him stealing your barbie dreamhouse’s dress collection. In second grade, he had given that exact cheshire smile (a cursed expression that would forever haunt you) when he had loudly announced to your first crush (a sweet, swoon-worthy exchange student from Germany) that you had cooties. 

The smug contortion of his face that stretched across his cheeks had always been a harbinger of disaster to your school life. “Did I miss anything important?”

“Ms Beckett literally repeated it five times.” Satoru tutted, wagging a finger in front of you. “But fine, I’ll be gracious enough to explain it to you. Remember that project she told us about last week?”

“The one about the Ancient Mesopotamian empire?”

“Yup.” Popping the p with all the subtlety of a gorilla in a museum, Satoru waggled his brows “The pairs for it have been plastered on the announcement board. I just checked it out and guess what?”

Oh no. You didn’t like where this was going. It couldn’t be. Surely, your teacher couldn’t hate you that much.

“You,” Satoru struck a dramatic pose that had you gagging, a hand on his hips as he tousled his hair with his head held high. “are looking at your project partner.”

What. The. Fuck.

“We might have to play nice with each other,” Satoru sighed sadly, draping himself across a chair. “The project’s worth half our grade.”

“I’m switching partners.” You turned on your heels, hurrying out of the class.

Satoru ran behind you, chasing after you through the corridors as he screeched your name with all the dignity of a drowned rat. “Wait a minute, I’m not that bad!”

Suffice to say, after an entire day of pestering you and maybe bribing some of the teachers, Satoru got you to remain his partner for the assignment.

“Why’re you even doing so much?” Suguru muttered, sipping on a coke against a pillar after school hours. Brushing back his long black hair, he gave Satoru the long-suffering glance of a best friend who had seen this routine play out way too many times since preschool.

Satoru shrugged, casually slinging his backpack over his shoulder as he kicked at a stray pebble. “Don’t look at me like that, she’s just fun to annoy.” His lips twitched at the corners. “She huffs and gets all pouty like some….some kinda pufferfish. It’s entertaining.”

But that didn’t explain why Satoru was fidgeting with his fingers, his smile widening as he stole peeks at you balancing precariously on a chair while you hung up fairylights for the food stall decoration. Blowing a puff of smoke, Shoko glanced exasperatedly at Suguru who just shook his head. 

--

Surprisingly, Satoru was not as bad as you’d imagined to work with. Cocky as he was, he seemed to have the skills to back it up.

Currently, he sat cross legged on your bed, his sneakers kicked to the side. His hair fell across his face as he leaned forward, the glow from the laptop’s screen painting his features in a white hue. “We might need to crosscheck our references.” Satoru murmured, his face serious for once as he typed up his parts of the essay.

“I already did that last night.” You replied, not glancing up from your laptop.

“Of course you did.” Satoru snorted, “Nerd.”

“Says the one who collects Digimon cards.” You muttered under your breath, your fingers clacking against the keyboard. Your shoulder brushed against Satoru’s 

Satoru’s head swivelled, his voice rising to a slight squeak. “That’s still cooler than whatever it is you do!”

“Whatever helps you sleep.”

The sudden silence from him had your brows furrowing. Looking up, your face paled when you realised what, or more precisely where, Satoru was looking at.

Before Satoru had arrived, you’d furtively surveyed your entire room for anything the jerk might latch onto to mock you. The first thing you’d stashed away had been your romance comics, their covers filled with swooning female heroines clutched in the arms of dukes and princes with jawlines sharper than a knife.

It was precisely the kind of thing Satoru would have a laughing fit over. You’d been determined for your precious comics to never see the light of day, keeping them hidden in an inconspicuous cardboard box beneath your bed.

So why was a page peeking out beneath the cover!? And why was it the worst possible title for anyone to see, titled ‘I Reincarnated As Empress and Now Have My Own Harem!?’.

“What…” Satoru’s eyes lit up as though he had found the key to Atlantis. “is that?” He sounded almost giddy with excitement.

“Nothing!” You squeaked, kicking the box deeper beneath your mattress. “It…..uh, it belongs to my cousins! Yeah, my cousins, they left it by mistake when they came over last summer.”

Setting his laptop aside, his eyes twinkled with mischief that had your skin prickle. “Your cousins? Sure, I believe you.” “Focus on your work.” Smacking his shoulder lightly, you stared warily at him.

“Right, right, sure…..” Satoru mumbled, turning away. Letting out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding, you flicked through your notes to verify a statistic.

Taking advantage of your distraction, Satoru immediately lunged for the box, grabbing it. You screeched, hands flailing as you watched your comics spill out on your bedsheet - a collection of incriminating romantic scenes.

“Oh my god!” Satoru cackled, holding up one of them. “What is this!?”

“Satoru, give it back!” You tried grabbing the book, but Satoru stood up quicker than a bolt of lightning. Using his height against you, he held the book over your head, laughing until he could barely talk.

“Marrying….marrying the cold northern duke!?” Satoru read the title, wheezing as he ducked below the range of your hands.

“I’ll kill you! Give it back!” You jumped, trying to reach for the book but Satoru merely held it higher.

“Too bad, shortie, you aren’t getting it!”

“I hate you!”

“Aw, maybe you’d like me better if I started dressing up in a waistcoat and bought myself a dukedom then!”

“Give it back!” 

“Why don’t you try getting it back?” Satoru smirked, dangling the book in your reach before quickly snatching it away.

You pressed forward, a scowl plastered on your face as your cheeks flamed red. Grabbing the collar of his white shirt, you tried shaking his grip off your book.

Your foot caught on the edge of your bed. The world tilted on its axis, your face coming a mere hair’s breadth away from Satoru’s.

Satoru froze, his breath stuttering as his back landed against the sheets. His hand instinctively found purchase on your waist as you fell atop him.

Your pulse stuttered within your chest, throat bobbing as you swallowed hard. Satoru’s ears turned pink, his eyes blown wide with panic and something else you couldn’t figure out, looking genuinely frazzled for the first time in all the years you’d known him.

It shouldn’t have sent a thrill through you. But it did. It felt good to catch him, the untouchable prodigy, off guard. Like you’d won some kind of score you didn’t even realise you’d been keeping in your head.

“Cat got your tongue?” You said, smirking. Snatching your comic back, you held it triumphantly against your chest.

Satoru’s hands slowly let go of your waist, but his grip lingered for a couple seconds. He stared up at you, his lips parting and closing dumbly for a couple seconds. His eyes roved over your face, lingering on the excited sparkle in your eyes. For a split second, he wondered - had your eyes always been so tempting, so easy to get lost in?

He blinked slowly, like he was shaking away some kind of daze. Satoru’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly before a slow grin split his face. “Your comics are definitely as bad as my Digimon collection. You’re no better than me, prez.”

Laughter, free and genuine for the first time with him, bubbled up your chest. You didn’t know why you laughed. Maybe it was the fact he’d been way cooler with this than you thought he’d be. Or perhaps you just liked the idea of winning over him in some way for once.

“You wish.” You chuckled, your hair falling over your face as you got off him. “I’m always better than you.”

“Oh right, how could I ever compare to your northern dukes?” Satoru bemoaned, but his eyes twinkled with mirth.

You both burst into giggles together again, your sides brushing against each other. You’d never known his joy could sound so warm, like brimming hot chocolate filling your ribs.

--

You’d come to learn a lot of things about Satoru over the weeks of working with him. Things you hadn’t really bothered to notice before.

He could be really introspective on rare occasions (as much as it pained you to admit it). He seemed to have a strange fondness for anything sweet. He always, always was an absolute glutton for food.

With your head buried between piles of notebooks, you barely noticed the world moving around you. Sitting beside you, Satoru’s fingers were already twitching towards your muffin.

You could already tell what he was about to do without even needing to see it. “Absolutely not.” You deadpanned, not glancing up from a hefty textbook.

“You wound me, prez.” Satoru pouted, scooting closer to you till your knees bumped against each other beneath the table. “Can’t you find it in your heart to spare a small crumb for your starving partner?”

“Buy your own-” Your words were cut short by Satoru’s hand sneaking in between the tiny space separating your arm and the table, snagging the plate to his side.

Stealing a bite (that literally took the entire muffin with it), he moaned dramatically around the soft fluffy goodness. “Mmmmh, this is sooooo good. It’s practically melting in my mouth.”

“Motherfucker-” Though your words said otherwise, your eyes flicked to his lips for a second. It was annoying. It was distracting. The fact his lips looked softer than the muffin you’d been waiting to devour was absolutely unfair.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry.” With all the flair of a showman, Satoru produced another muffin from his bag, grinning ear to ear. “Your Satoru is here to save the day.”

“You literally stole mine-”

“Tomato, tomahto. Aren’t you going to thank me?”

Snatching the muffin, your eye twitched exasperatedly. “No. But it will save you from me sabotaging your part of the project.”

Satoru whined, rubbing his head against your shoulder like an overgrown housecat. “You have such a cruel, cruel heart. I’ll be crying myself to sleep because of you.”

You smelled like vanilla and without realizing it, Satoru found himself breathing in the scent. Drowning in it.

You couldn’t stop an amused snort from escaping. Because damnit, annoying as he could be, he had an average sense of humor. Yeah, average. Definitely not that good. It wasn’t like his antics made your study sessions better. Absolutely not. 

As Satoru turned his attention back to his books, his heart couldn’t stop the stupid little leap it did at your smile. That was definitely because he’d successfully annoyed you yet again. For sure.

The peace miraculously lasted for another hour. When the bell rang for lunch, you stood up, expecting a relaxing break. Until Satoru nabbed your glasses off your face, making off into a run with his bag haphazardly hung over his back.

“Satoru, get back here!” Hurriedly packing your bag, you chased after him, your cheeks flushing in mortification at the stares that followed you and him. “I’ll ban you from all cultural events!”

“And prevent the school from ever seeing my charming face? I don’t think so, prez. It’d ruin the community’s spirit!” Satoru called back over his shoulder, continuing to run ahead.

“For god’s sake, I need to go eat lunch!”

“But all that studying has made my bones stiff!” He cackled before whirling around, revealing his face alit with boyish joy. Tilting his head, his blue eyes nearly rivalled the sky in their vividness as he hollered. “Besides, your legs will become like jelly if you just keep sitting all day! You already run slower than my grandma, we wouldn’t want to make it worse, would we?”

Satoru led you on an entire chase throughout the school grounds, jumping over fences and zigzagging between pillars. But if anyone had looked close enough, they’d have seen that even with all the chaos he left in his wake with his dramatic parkour, his grip on your glasses remained careful throughout it all.

If at that moment, a student had chosen to look at his movement properly, they’d have realized he kept slowing down his pace every few seconds for you just so you could catch up. And when you’d caught him at last due to his pace faltering from tripping over a stray root, anyone paying just a little attention would have realized - Satoru had let his balance go astray on purpose.

But when your arms flung around him and you did your stupid little victory dance, Satoru had a feeling there was nothing else he would have rather done. As your jubilant laughter filled his ears, Satoru just knew as sure as he’d known that he was good at everything without really trying since childhood - that your stupidly loud laughter might have been worth tripping for.

He just didn’t have any clue when he’d begun thinking that.

--

“Who the hell is that?” Satoru scowled from the back of the class, his fingers tapping agitatedly against the table as he watched you smile at some twerp and go over notes with him.

Suguru pinched the bridge of his nose, “He’s Keegan, the treasurer of the student counsel. Do you seriously have to-”

“It’s not like I care.” Satoru said quickly. A little too quickly. “It’s just, she could do way better. That guy has a personality drier than stale bread.”

“As if you’re any better.” Suguru muttered under his breath as his pen flew over one of the homework exercises assigned for Literature.

“Hey, if she wants to get all smoochy with someone named Keegan out of all things, it’s not my problem.” Satoru snorted, sucking on a lollipop.

Still, for the rest of the class, Satoru’s eyes kept returning to your seat again and again. He couldn’t resist noticing the way Keegan leaned into your side, how you smiled at nearly everything the guy said.

Satoru’s frown deepened with every passing second, oddly confused at his gaze straying to you when it should’ve been on the teacher’s lecture. Since when had his eyes begun searching for you in every room? Hadn’t it always been about winning?

His nails dug into his palm when Keegan’s hand found its way onto your shoulder, something that shouldn’t have affected Satoru - he knew it should be of no consequence to him, but why did it feel like his ribs were collapsing in on him?

Suguru’s words, which Satoru would normally be causing a ruckus over, felt distant to him. Everything felt far away, fading from existence with every passing second until all he could see was the crinkle at the corners of your eyes when you laughed.

He hated it.

He hated you. He hated the way your laugh sounded like sunshine in a bottle. He loathed the intelligence you possessed, the smug tilt of your head whenever you scored more than him. The freckles that dusted across your skin, the slope of your nose, the softness of your cheeks that had his fingers twitching with the urge to cup them, the rise and lull of your words that made his head turn like a flower to sunlight - he vehemently detested it all.

He hated the power you held over him. Because it meant for the first time in his life, Satoru Gojo - prodigy of everything he ever put his mind to, had something he couldn’t get with talents bestowed upon him since birth. He couldn’t wave his black credit card at you and win you over.

All these years, you’d been the vexation of his entire existence and somehow, at the same time the only person whose attention he’d ever bothered trying so hard for.

“Satoru!” Suguru snapped his fingers in front of Satoru’s eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. “Earth to Satoru??? I’ve been asking you to pass that worksheet five times!”

“.....huh?” Satoru murmured, barely present as he handed the book to Suguru. “Yeah, yeah, take it…”

His heart pounded, a drumbeat of the suffering of his own making. Emotions he’d never tried putting words to rushed up like a tidal wave within him, catching him off guard like nothing else in his life never truly had.

He wanted to sit beside you. He wanted to drown in your laughter. He’d pay all the money he had to see you scowl at him even once. He’d been hoarding your every insult like a miser with gold, conjuring up ideas to annoy you everyday to keep your eyes on him.

Did your hand feel as soft as it looked? Was it ever possible for you to smile at him someday too?

Oh god, Satoru froze in his seat like he’d been struck by a bolt of lightning, I’m screwed.

--

It was the last day you and Satoru needed to work on your history project. You’d both decided to meet up at a cafe and finished, arms laden with all your work material. The sun dipped over the horizon as you walked back home with him, the streetlights flickering on.

Reaching over, Satoru carried your bag with his. “What?” He tilted his head at your incredulous look. “You looked like you were struggling. I don’t want to be slowed down by you.”

Shoving him playfully, you said “If we get distinction on this project, just know it’s because of me.”

“No way!” Satoru laughed, catching up with you. “I did my fair share of work too. Cmon prez, I’m not just a pretty face. Give me some credit here.”

“Fine.” You relented, “You’re not too bad to work with.”

Like a cat that got the cream, Satoru’s face lit up. “Ohhh?” He gasped “So you agree that I’m pretty?”

“You wish.”

“But that’s what you said!”

“Your face is…..tolerable.”

“Only tolerable?”

Rolling your eyes, you stalked ahead. “Yeah, so don’t get too cocky.”

That was an absolute lie. Satoru Gojo, bane of your existence and rival since you’d begun schooling, was the prettiest boy you’d ever seen. Even if it would kill you to admit it.

Satoru mocked you, flapping his lips to imitate your expression. But he still shouldered your bag, his footsteps instinctively adjusting to match your pace.

--

The entire campus was abuzz with frantic energy. Each year, during the school carnival, students were allowed to bring a plus one with them. It bought an energy nearly equivalent to prom - the hallways filled with students gathering their nerves to ask out the person they liked.

Satoru swung his legs on the school bench, his demeanour strangely subdued for once. He kept fidgeting with a box on his lap, the lid tied with an incriminating bow (Satoru had spent hours perfecting it).

“What’s that?” Shoko asked, tapping a finger against the ribbons.

“I’m asking her out.” Satoru blurted out, his heart nearly jumping out of his chest.

“Finally!” Suguru threw his hands up, “If I have to see you making googly eyes at her one more time-”

“For fuck’s sake, shut up!” Satoru’s voice went up by three octaves and the bell rang - marking the start of the history class you had in common with him. Delivering a sharp kick to Suguru to quiet him down, Satoru stood up like he’d been electrocuted.

His ears burning, he made his way to the classroom, the chocolate box clutched like a shield. “Okay, you got this.” Satoru repeated to himself like a mantra, making his way around the corner. “Just tell her how you feel, what’s the worst that can happen, you’re the Satoru Gojo-”

The first thing he saw was Keegan with a bouquet of roses. The next was your smile, like you’d been waiting for it. Satoru nearly dropped his box.

His blood roared in his ears, the sound drowning out the rest of the world around him. Faintly, he could hear Keegan asking you out, the words feeling like salt scraped against a gaping wound.

Satoru stumbled back and out of sight, unable to bear watching your response. Why should he be the one to ruin your happiness?

Cursing under his breath, Satoru slammed the chocolates into the nearest trash can. His eyes felt hot, brimming with tears. He’d never cried before, never had a reason to. He’d thought himself above it. But then again, you always had a way of sending him reeling, didn’t you?

He’d been too late. For the first time in his life, when it had actually mattered, Satoru had been too slow.

Hastily wiping his eyes as more students began pouring in, Satoru squared his shoulders and put on his most effortless smile.

That day, he was louder than usual. He sauntered more with Suguru, laughed till his lungs ached.

But with every passing moment, it felt like his heart was cracking a little more.

--

Satoru stared numbly at the basketball in his hands as he sat on the bleachers after practice, mindlessly tracing his thumb over the ridges.

As much as he tried, he couldn’t get you out of his head. You, just you, were driving him mad in a way none of the petty rivalries he had with you ever had.

Satoru dribbled the basketball against the floor as he remained on the bleachers, his chest heavy.

Plap!

The first droplet of rain fell against his face, cold and unforgiving. As quick as it came, it turned into a heavy downpour, slamming against the ground in fat, heavy drops. Satoru raised his head, his eyes sullen before he burst into a run to find shelter beneath the slanted roof of a building.

It had been a week since he saw you and Keegan. The carnival was in two days.

It was stupid, he knew for a fact that any other girl in school would go out with him if he just used his usual disarming smile. Satoru was aware there was no shortage of girls falling for him every week, swooning over him in the audience.

So why, he could only curse in his mind, did he keep searching for you everywhere he went? Satoru felt like ripping his own skin off if he thought about you and Keegan together. The notion of Keegan’s lips ever slotting over yours, over the lips he had dreamt about so often that he’d be able to draw it with his eyes closed, made his knuckles whiten. 

A familiar patter of shoes had Satoru perking up - the same footsteps he’d been following behind since he was seven and saw your toothy smile when you ran in the playground. 

Your backpack swung as you walked in the rain, safely shielded beneath an umbrella. Satoru’s breath hitched as he watched your fingers peek out, playing with the rain.

Oblivious to being watched, your lips curved upwards as the coldness of the water seeped into your skin. It might have been inconsequential to you, but for Satoru it was akin to an arrow piercing straight through his heart.

God, you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Satoru had never realised it was possible for someone’s lips to look so kissable, that a pair of eyes could make it feel like vines were wrapping around his heart, bewitching him to walk wherever you go.

Oh, but how willfully he’d do so. Even if Satoru bickered and teased you the entire way, he’d walk with you to the ends of the Earth if you merely asked. One smile from you, just one well-placed nudge and he’d be a goner.

He couldn’t bear you never knowing how he felt.There was only one year of school left, just one year of being able to bask in your scowls and laughter alike. What if you graduated unaware of the storm you struck in his heart with every moment in your presence?

Before he could overthink it, Satoru ran. Not for a trophy, not for the cheers but towards you.

You turned at the loud call of your name, only to see Satoru coming to a stop in front of you. “Satoru?” Your voice came out soft, confused. Ever since you both had submitted the project, he’d been avoiding you. You had no idea why, had chalked it up to one of his antics. “Do you need some-”

“Please don’t go to the carnival with Keegan.” He blurted out, cutting you off.

“.....what?” Your face went blank.

“No, I mean-” Satoru backtracked, scraping his hand through his hair. “I can’t tell you who to go with but I really, really need you to know this. You’re the most incredible person I know, there’s…..there’s no one like you in this entire world for me.”

A flush burst across your neck as you gawked at him. His words didn’t just fluster you, it was like every nerve ending within you was on fire. The world had somehow exploded in color, a swirl of brightness until it all narrowed down to him.

The rain fell around you, Satoru’s hair plastered against his face. Dragging a hand over his face, he stared at you as his drenched shirt clung to his chest.

Mistaking your silence for rejection, Satoru rambled on before the urge to run away took over. “You drive me insane, you’re loud and opinionated, you argue for every small thing but……but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Everything, I swear to god, every fight I’ve ever started with you is because all I’ve ever wanted is your eyes on me. You’re everything I’m not, you’re smart and you care. You work hard for everything you have but…..but I love you! I understand you’re going out with Keegan but I have to say this-” His words choked up, eyes wide at his own unfiltered torrent.

He loved you? Satoru, the boy whose face appeared in your dreams, whose face you fantasised about punching and kissing senseless all at once loved….you?

“Satoru.”

“I’ve loved you since first grade, I’ve loved you when you bossed everyone around at the playground, I’ve loved you during every stupid speech you gave during assemblies-”

“Satoru.” You repeated gently

“And I…” Satoru’s breath caught in his throat, his chest heaving like he might collapse for you. He knew he would. He’d get on his knees and beg if he had to.  “There’s nothing I enjoy more than being around you. You don’t have to feel the same for me, but I can’t go one more day watching you without ever telling you.”

“I’m not going out with Keegan.”

“You aren’t?” Satoru’s face went pale, his hands shaking against his sides. He tried forcing them still, but it was to no avail. “But I thought-”

“I don’t know what you think you saw,” You continued, stepping closer “but I rejected Keegan.”

“Why?” It came out as a plea, a hoarse whisper.

“Because,” This time, you bridged the distance that separated your bodies,  cupping his face. Satoru froze, his eyes blown with awe. “I love you too.”

“You….you do?” He croaked out, cheeks red.

“You’re the most infuriating, insufferable boy I know.” His cheeks were softer than you’d imagined them to be during all the nights thoughts of him had kept you awake, the flutter of his lashes against your skin gentler than a summer breeze. “And I love you for it.”

With a low groan, Satoru finally placed his lips upon yours. He tasted like the  kikufuku mochi he liked so much, warm and sweet. Hesitantly, as though you’d vanish away like mist if he moved too quickly, his hands came to rest on your waist.

You felt so soft against him. The dip of your waist, the lull and rise of your chest against his, the art of your entire existence - it set every inch of his skin ablaze.

A pathetic, soft keening noise escaped Satoru’s lips as he deepened the kiss slightly, his grip on your waist tightening. “You love me?” He breathed out in pure wonder against your lips, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Always have.”

“Please,” Tracing the arch of your cheek, he murmured “go to the carnival with me?”

“I kissed you.” You tried saying it with a straight face but your lips kept cracking into a grin. “What do you think?”

Satoru chuckled, his lips still brushing against yours like he couldn’t bear a second without being moulded against your warmth. “I think my charm worked yet again and I have the prettiest girlfriend in the whole school.”

“Only the whole school?”

Satoru thought it over, pressing a finger against his chin in contemplation before shaking his head brightly. “Nah, in the entire world.”

Pressing a faint kiss to the corner of your lips, he murmured “My pretty girl.”

“You’re such an idiot.”

“Mhm,” Satoru cupped your face, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. “but I’m your idiot. Yours. Everything I am is yours.”

This time, Satoru kissed you, his free hand trailing up your back to clasp the back of your head. Your cherry lipgloss smeared across his lips and Satoru lapped up the taste as though it was ambrosia.

Yeah, Satoru was definitely the biggest annoyance of your existence. A cocky, resolute moron.

And simultaneously, the best person who had crash-landed into your life.

Summary: Nothing could bring the strongest sorcerer to his knees. Not any curse. Not any higher ups. But you in that sinful red dress paired with the fact that it was Valentine's day? Yeah, Satoru's folding the instant you both enter the doorstep of your house.

Satoru swung the door open, your bag clutched in his arm. He leaned against the doorway, admiring the city lights flickering against the crimson silk of your dress as you sat down - fingers fumbling with the strap of your heels.

Your face was flushed, ears warm from all the wine you'd drank - a pleasant tingling in your body. Tilting your head back, you met Satoru's gaze - those piercing eyes filled with a want that filled the small space of the couch.

You didn't say a word.

You didn't have to.

Satoru was already walking forward, expensive shoes clacking against the floor sharply. He came to a stop in front of you, his tall frame casting a shadow over you.

Hair tousled, tie coming loose around his neck, the scent of his cologne wrapping around you as his suit clung deliciously to his shoulders - Satoru leaned forward, caging your head between his hands. "Did you enjoy the dinner?"

A casual question. One that belied the heat pooling beneath your stomach. "Satoru." You whispered, the word threatening on the edge of a plea.

You both knew what you wanted. What you'd both been waiting for the entire day. The glances shared in the candlelight of the restaurant, the fleeting touches, the way you'd let him wrap his fingers around your thigh on the car ride back home had all lead to this.

"I don't know, baby." Satoru drawled - if that man thrived on anything, it was his ego. "I'm not a mind reader, you've got to spell it out for me."

Your fingers faltered against your thighs, the idea of removing your heels long forgotten. But two could play this game.

"Oh it was nothing." You leaned back casually, the hem of your dress riding up the slightest bit - revealing the soft skin of your thighs that nearly had Satoru salivating. "I was just thinking of heading to bed actually. Kinda wanna sleep."

Tugging his blindfold off, Satoru tossed it into some corner of the room - unbothered where it landed, his blue eyes zeroed in on you. “Oh no you don’t.” He trailed his hands along your sides, grazing but not touching - before firmly planting them on your thighs. “You just look so pretty, sugar. If you wanted sleep, you shouldn’t have been eye-fucking me all through dinner.”

“Darling,” You cooed mockingly, trying to hold back squirming from his fleeting touches. “if you wanted my attention so badly, you could’ve just asked.”

“You’re right.” Satoru sank to his knees, placing your leg above his shoulder - his free hand rubbing the calf of your other. “I do want your attention.”

“Huh-“ Your breath stuttered in your throat, at a loss for words, the sensation of Satoru’s teeth grazing your ankle leaving goosebumps in its wake.

He held your gaze the entire time he undid the straps of your heels with his teeth, eyes flashing with something feral - all those fantasies he’d been holding back against since he saw you getting ready for dinner, since you’d graced his evening with that backless dress that had him trailing his fingers over the expanse of your skin during dinner.

Covering the expanse of your ankles with soft-mouthed kisses, he mumbled into the skin. “Wanted it since I saw you in your little vanity, all dolled up. I thought about bending you over right there.”

Your hips jerked up at the sensation of firm, strong hands trailing up your thighs - up and up but never where you needed him the most. “Satoru please-”

“Patience, sweetheart.” He chuckled, breath ghosting over your inner thigh. “Didn’t you want to sleep?”

Your hands flew to his hair, tugging hard. “Shut up and just fuck me already-”

Satoru smirked, sucking a hickey on your skin - soothing the sting with his tongue as he sucked and kissed until it blossomed in purple. Trailing kisses closer and closer to the ache between your legs, he bunched your dress up to your hips in one fluid movement that had you keening.

He stared unabashedly at your underwear, burying his nose in the red lace. His groan rumbled through your skin and into your chest, breathless sounds spilling from your lips as he moved his tongue up and down and all over the fabric.

Satoru moaned into your mound, making out with your underwear and inhaled the embarrassingly large patch of dampness, looping both your legs around his neck. “That’s it, so pretty baby. Look at that, you’re so wet. Who’s it all for, hm?”

“You, you, fuck, Satoru-“ You blabbered, dripping onto his face.

If there was one thing Satoru loved more than his name, it was hearing it from your lips.

Rip!

Tucking the remnants of your underwear into the pocket of his pants, Satoru dove right in like it was his last meal - spreading apart the outer lips of your pussy and plunged his tongue deep into the walls. It hit a spot that had you see spots in your vision, tearing a moan from your lips.

“You taste so good - hah - should’ve had this instead of dinner.” Satoru’s nose kept bumping into your clit, pain and pleasure blurring into one with the way his tongue kept finding all the perfect spots he knew like that back of his hand.

“More, right there, don’t you fucking stop-“ Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling on those white strands. Satoru moaned uabashedly, his pupils blown wide as he panted against your heat.

“That’s it, sugar, use me.” With a teasing nip to your clit, his tongue traced oh-so-familiar letters and swirls. “What’s that, huh?” Glancing up at your dazed expression, sweat clinging to your forehead, he brought a hand down against your pussy. Hard.

“Ngh, I don’t know-“ Your mouth fell into a breathless, soundless scream - the world narrowing down to Satoru and his awestruck laughter.

“Cmon, sweetheart, try one time for me.” The audacity of this man to pout up at you right before pushing one finger into your quivering walls. One long, dexterous finger that curled up inside you and made come-hither motions like Satoru owned it. “Ngh, so tight and warm, you’re just too cute-”

Which he might as well could with how loud you were moaning, certain to get a noise complaint from the neighbours come morning. But that was the problem of tomorrow’s version of you because right now, all you could focus on was Satoru spelling out his own name.

S A T O R U

“Satoru, god, it’s Satoru, oh god-” Tears steamed down your face, your mascara smudged - disheveled, absolutely wrecked.

Pushing another finger in, Satoru quickened his pace - slamming them mercilessly into your cervix. “Yeah, yeah, me, love you so much, oh fuck-” The man was equally wrecked as you, humping discreetly against the couch. Satoru stared, transfixed at the way you rippled and clenched around him. Loud, squelching noises filled the room - paired with your moans and Satoru whimpering like he’d ascended heaven.

Your hips squirmed, running away from the onslaught of overwhelming sensations. Within seconds, Satoru reached up - pinning your hips to the couch. “Where do you think you’re going, hm?” He tutted, leaving crescent shaped marks into the skin.

“T-too much, ah, please-”

“Ohhhhh, but you can take it though.” Satoru panted, dragging you back down with one hand until you were situated above his face. “Look at how she’s, hah, she’s dripping all over me.”

Raising your hips up, Satoru brought you as close as physically possible to his ravenous mouth - slurping and licking along your walls as he plunged yet another finger; three fingers hitting that perfect spot in tandem until all you could do was shake and moan. His thumb rubbed at your clit, twirling the bundle of nerves and swiping it back and forth.

Your orgasm didn’t come over you gently. It crashed into you, your eyes rolling back as your vision went white - the world blurring until all your mind could think was Satoru, Satoru, Satoru.

He didn’t stop, fingers unrelenting as he worked you through your pleasure, lapping up your release - not wasting a single drop. Your chest heaved, hair disheveled as your back melted into the couch - noises that you’d barely consider human tearing from your throat.

Satoru pulled away, his face coated in your release - damp and slick. His breathing came quick, hands trembling against your skin like he was holding something precious - as though all the power he held would always fall apart under your gaze when he took his rightful place on his knees for you.

”One more.” He whispered, his grip on your hips tightening. “Just one more, you can give me one more, right? Please, baby-”

You could barely nod, your movements sluggish with the pleasure that thrummed in your veins. Satoru moved over you onto the couch, pulling you so close you could count every pretty eyelash of his. “Just one more.” He whispered again, like he was trying to convince himself like he was capable of stopping.

You both knew he wasn’t though.

Grabbing his collar, you pulled him down, crashing your lips against his. He tasted of you, his tongue slipping into your lips. Moving against each other, you scrambled to tugging his blazer off his shoulder - the area between your legs pulsing and throbbing.

"Satoru we're not spending a million yen on the bed."

"Why not?" Satoru tilted his head towards you, bumping his shoulder against your rigid frame. "We can afford it."

Smack!

"Because it's ridiculously overpriced, vain, financially irresponsible and stupid!" You listed off, pointedly ignoring your husband's wince as he rubbed the sore part of his head your palm had connected to.

Besides, you both knew Satoru could have easily blocked it with his infinity - if the dopey grin on his face didn't speak volumes already.

"No, no, you're getting it allll wrong." Satoru steps closer, the hardness of his chest , warm and familiar, pressing into your back. "It's fancy and the mattress is almost as soft as your thighs."

"Flattery won't work on me, hotshot."

You stared straight ahead at the half painted wall of your bedroom - an expanse of teal green with patches of plaster haphazardly showing through(curtesy of Satoru's and your shared attempt at painting).

It was messy, amateurish at best. Crudely done in between laughter and Satoru running off with the paint brushes.

Your eyes softened, the sternness in your irises seeping away slightly. Only slightly. "We can get a mattress for thirty thousand yen, tops. I don't get why you want to waste our money and, Satoru what the hell-"

The world tilted on its axis as Satoru looped an arm around your waist, hauling you off the ground. Cradling you close to his chest, he caught your legs with his free hand - quelling your violent kicks. "Baby," He grinned from ear to ear, squeezing your sides. "have I ever told you how you're the most beautiful, stunning, show stopping woman I know? You look so pretty today, I couldn't resist at all."

Satoru batted his lashes, flashing his deceptively innocent baby blues at you. You knew that look - the one he got when he ate your muffins or right before he stole one of your skincare products.

You brought your face close to his, suspicion igniting in your mind. ".....damnit, you bought the bed already, didn't you?"

Your voice was soft. Dangerously calm.

".....I meant all the compliments though-"

"Answer the damn question."

Satoru's shoulders slumped, his chest deflating. Almost like a chastised puppy. ".....yeah I did. It'll be delivered tomorrow, I just wanted to surprise you."

"Oh my fucking god, we could've saved all that money! Also, put me down-"

"Never, it's part of the husband duties."

You glowered, an eye twitching in barely suppressed annoyance. "Honey, I get that we're rich but we don't need to be stupid just because you're loaded. How many times, how many goddamn times, did I tell you to not get that mattress even though it looked really good!? We're supposed to be saving money-"

"Do we really need to though?" Satoru shrugged, jostling your frame slightly as he carried you out of the bedroom and to the kitchen. "The clothes I wear are more than a million yen."

"Which is ridiculous, by the way-"

"I exist to spoil you till the day we die."

"You are the most aggravating, arrogant bastard I know!" You groaned, pointedly avoiding Satoru's gaze.

"Your bastard." With a fluid movement of his arm, he placed you upon the kitchen countertop - caging you against the marble with his hands on either side of your hips. "Your idiot. Your moron." Satoru leaned forward, the strands of his white hair tickling the side of your neck. "Who loves you so, so much."

You turn your head away, your anger more petty than serious by that point.

Satoru's head fell into your shoulder, his lips moving against your skin. "C'mon, look at me. Please."

Your splutters died in your throat, leaving you bereft of your annoyance. There he stood, in all the glory of his paint streaked pants, looking at you not as a sorcerer or the strongest, but as just....Satoru. As the guy who would look at you like you'd stepped out of Vogue when you were busy scolding him.

"Fine, I love you too." Your thumb caressed his imploring pout, relenting to the pull of his sweet talk. "But that mattress better be the softest that exists in Japan for you to be paying that much."

Satoru nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, dreamily exhaling. ".....can't wait to share a house with you though. My wife." He said the words like they were a miracle - a prayer to be uttered at the temple of his love for you. "My pretty, cute wife. I love it when you scold me, love that adorable furrow you get in your brows too."

Each word was enunciated with a kiss to any expanse of skin Satoru could find, from your collarbone to your neck - he lavished all the spots he knew like the back of his hand with his attention.

You squirmed on the countertop, fingers curling around the edge. "S-Satoru-" Your voice came out breathy, tinged with a wanting only he could evoke so readily.

"Yes, sugar?" Even without Satoru looking up from your neck, you could practically taste the smug satisfaction radiating off him in the air.

If he had though, he might have noticed your hand creeping towards the handle of a paint bucket, tugging it closer to your side.

You cupped his cheek, tilting his face up. Satoru melted, shoulders slumping as he rubbed his cheek against your palm. "Satoru," You whispered sweetly, letting your lips brush against his temptingly. "I think the painting can wait for a while, don't you?"

If Satoru had a tail, it would most probably be wagging with how eagerly he was nodding. "Yeah, hell, it can wait till tomorrow for all I care."

His eyes fluttered close, the grip of his fingers tightening in your hair. Satoru leaned in, expecting the soft paradise of your mouth against his-

A smear of paint met his cheek. Cold and damp - it dripped down his jaw and onto his shirt.

"What the..." Satoru dabbed at his cheek, eyes shooting wide open - only to be met with your unrepentant grin.

"Serves you right!" You flicked his forehead, giggling. You smeared the dallop of teal paint over his cheek, only for Satoru to catch your wrist within his grip.

He laughed, loud and boisterous. "Oh you're in for it now, baby! I'm so not going easy on you!"

Barely breaking a sweat, Satoru swept you off the countertop and out you over his shoulder. His fingers ghosted over your sides, tickling and prodding over your ribs.

"Satoru!" You squealed, doubling up uncontrollably. "Oh my god-"

"I can't believe you ambushed your poor, trusting husband like that." Satoru tutted, shaking his head mournfully.

You both fell onto the couch - a heap of tangled limbs and laughter. Satoru continued to tickle you, eliciting fits of giggles from you that had his heart soaring.

Mwah!

Mwah!

Satoru bombarded you with kisses, ruffling your hair until it resembled a bird's nest. He pulled back, only to press you deeper into the cushions.

You looked up at him breathless as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Without warning, you flipped him over - firmly adjusting your weight over to him. Satoru smirked, hands scrambling to find purchase on your hips. "Mmh, now that's the best view in all of Tokyo."

"Only in Tokyo?" You raised a brow, leaning down until your chests were pressed close together.

Satoru's fingers dug into your hips, kneading the mounds of flesh there. "That could be up for debate." Delivering a sharp nip to your earlobe, he shuddered at your sharp intake of breath. "Maybe you could prove me otherwise, pretty?"

Summary: Nanami was undeserving of you, he knew that. By the gods, did he try to remind himself of that everyday. But when you had your hands upon his, he could never bring himself to resist. Tags: princess!reader, knight!nanami, fluff, yearning

There were very few things in the world worth dying for.

A king's word? No, kings were the most fickle creatures of their land - forever changing with the currents of politics.

A knight's honor? Nanami would argue that honor hardly existed amongst the ranks.

But if chivalry and gallantry could truly exist, if it hadn't died out yet in the coldness of his humble origins or the dilapidation of the shack he called home, Nanami knew every ounce of it existed for you.

It had been borne for you the day you'd sworn him into your service - bathed in the morning light of dawn with silk draped over you like delicate dew. In Nanami's eyes, you'd shone brighter than the marble of the temples he'd prayed to till then, holier than the gods he'd never bothered regarding.

And it still existed for you even now, in the muted hues of the night as Nanami stood vigil by the doorway of your study - with his back straight and sword firmly secured to his armor.

His ears prickled at the sound of your soft exhale from behind him, accompanied by the faint rustle of your dress as you twisted in your seat - rubbing at your aching shoulder.

Don't look, a hopeless plea echoed in Nanami's mind, she isn't meant for your plebian eyes.

You dipped your quill into your pot of ink, the candlelight catching the lines of your wrist with each stroke of the sharp tip against parchment.

The faint echoes of the prospect of slumber crept into your body, your eyes drooping traitorously. Your head leaned forward, the sweet relief of sleep (wrong as it may be to shirk your current duty of having to memorize the lineages of the lords who'd be attending the royal banquet tomorrow) deliciously creeping upon you.

At the suspiciously long pause in the scratching of your quill, Nanami finally turned his head towards you - breath catching in his throat at the sight of you hunched over the table, drowning in scrolls and books.

"Your Highness?" Nanami stepped forward until he came to stand beside you, pieces of his armor clinking loudly against each other.

A gasp escaped your lips as you sat up with a jolt, face heating up in mortification. "Apologies, I...I fear the late hour is affecting my sensibilities."

"You've been working tirelessly, your highness." Nanami tries, to keep the concern out of his voice, to put on the airs of a detached servant of the crown.

But how could he? Frigid as his heart might have grown from all the years of toiling on the battlefield, Nanami was still a man - a slave to the curve of your lips and the hope of evoking happiness in your eyes which he'd come to cherish more than any reward from the treasury.

"Perhaps you should rest." He continued, standing stiffly by your side - clenching his fists at his sides to curb the disastrous temptation of reaching for you. "Your Highness, it would do you good."

"I'm afraid I cannot." You leaned back on your chair, your spine cracking in protest at the notion of any more work. "There are a lot of expectations placed on the banquet tomorrow, my father is depending on me to uphold the royal name, as is the court-"

"It's past midnight." Nanami interjected gently - though the turmoil of thoughts in his head screaming at him to do something, anything to break the walls of duty and propriety that separated him from you were anything but that.

"The crown does not wait for the sun to rise." You retort, your grip on your quill tightening.

"And I do not account for the callings of scrolls when it comes to your wellbeing, Princess."

How were you supposed to fight against the flutter in your heart when Nanami looked at you like that? You knew, deep down in your soul - with each passing day, resisting the tenderness in Nanami's tired eyes was akin to the tides helplessly refusing the tug of the moon.

A smile graces your lips - feeble and exhausted, but nevertheless a smile reserved only for your cherished knight. "I suppose you've grown weary of standing vigil for hours on end."

"Never, Your Highness." Nanami's reply is immediate, almost thoughtless in its swiftness. "If it means protecting you, I'd never find it cumbersome."

Silence, thick with a thousand words that could never be uttered, filled the space between you both. Nanami's heart ached at the sight of the warmth that had crept onto your cheek. Oh, how he longed to graze his fingertips against your face and soothe your fluster - from the moment you had graced him with the light of your existence, his hands had begun craving things it had no right to behold.

Your gaze drifted to Nanami's hand, brows furrowing his bruised knuckles - his skin marred in blue and black. "You're hurt."

Nanami quickly hid his hands behind his back. "It was from a duel during the training at dawn."

"Show me your hands."

"It is a hideous sight to display to a lady of your stature and benevelonce-"

"Nanami." You cut him off, waving your hand - the rings on your fingers gleaming. If he could, Nanami would have gotten on his knees and kissed each of them a long time ago. "Give me your hand."

He fell silent, looking at you warily. If you were spoiled, it would have been easier for him to not succumb to your charms. But no, you had to be a contradiction wrapped in royal silk - a woman capable of having the world at your feet yet who chose to reach out for the hands of a sullen, unworthy man like him.

His Adam's apple bobbed when he brought his hands forth at last. As you drew a bottle of ointment from your pouch, your tender hands unsullied from the cruelty of war coming to rest upon his scarred skin - a shudder so all consuming that it stole the breath from his lungs ran through him.

"You ought to be more careful." You chastised, rubbing the ointment into his bruises. You looked up at Nanami, the softness of the pools of your eyes accentuated by the genuine care in them.

His hands trembled, the tools of war that had won him many hard earned victories shook like a leaf in your touch. "Princess," Nanami whispered, as though the act of uttering each word tormented every aspect of his being. "you....you are too kind."

Don't look at me in such a way, Nanami cried out for reprieve in his mind, Your eyes make me dream of things a man of my standing could never deserve.

"I just wanted to thank you for your service in any way I could." Your hands lingered longer than necessary upon his skin, unconsciously stroking the calluses upon his arm. "You do a lot for me, Nanami."

Gods, his name upon your tongue. If Nanami could, he'd bottle the sound up and tuck it right within his scabbard. "It is my honor, Your Highness."

"As it is mine," Your voice softened, brimming with all the emotions you could never bring to light. "to have you as my knight."

Right then and there, Nanami melted - the carefully composed blankness in his eyes shattering like glass in the midst of your favor. "Then there is nothing more I would ever need in my life."

Eventually, your hands did pull away - though the aching warmth of your touch lingered on his skin long after you turned back to your work.

And when you did surrender to your tiredness, when your head finally hit the desk in your sleep - you did not meet the hardness of wood or the cold, unfeeling leather of your books.

No, instead it was the wool of Nanami's cloak that enveloped you - shed from his shoulders.

Nanami adjusted the cloak around your frame, being careful to not let his hands linger on you - he would not dirty you with them. A smile, a rare occurrence for the serious man, made its way onto his face.

It was true, there weren't many principles of valor worth standing by for Nanami. That he would forfeit his life for.