#mtmc

Mafia: The Mystical Country au! I'll shortly write about the info about em :3

Enzo– an ordinary angel but due to a dna disorder he has halos around his limbs, angel known as pricing better as their wing is bigger and Enzo has a rare symptom of being a rare huge winged angel. So when he sold to mines (his father didn't knew he priced that much since kids wings not being that big) Spadaro's cut his wings when he grew older, got his flying ability and his freedom away from him which left the poor Enzo's wing stayed harm for a long time. Valentine (another angel) wrapped up his poor wings when they got Enzo in

Isabella— Don Torrisi is a Bull, and her mother Rosa was a swan, in mixture she came out as a unicorn! She's a very rare type of mystic creature so Torrisi doing his best to keep her away from the hunters (yes if you're any mystical stuff is rare there are hunters that looking out for you so they can sold it/you 💔

Cesare— a demon, a very high ranked demon from a high ranked demon family, can make strong and destructive spells without making out a sweat, his mana is also really strong but he doesn't gets magic classes and tryna learn the magic by himself, sometimes Luca can show some classes thought

here’s my fic for @domestickurodaizine !! i got my copy last week and cried over how beautiful everyone’s work was. so so honored i got the chance to be a part of such an awesome project ✨✨✨

pairing: kurodai

rating: t (for suggestive themes)

word count: ~2k

summary: kuroo and daichi are utterly smitten for each other. the only problem? they work for the same company, and kuroo is nothing if not a little showy. sneaking around has its appeal, though.

read on ao3

When it comes to secret office romances, Daichi would argue that he has everyone beat. His proof? What must be at least a hundred roses covering nearly every square inch of cubicle, all white save for a lone red flower in the middle, nestled on the seat of his office chair.

A small smile pulls at Daichi's lips, his chest warming at the thought of Kuroo planning this for him. It's not their anniversary, yet, and it isn't Daichi's birthday.

Nearly a year into their relationship, Kuroo still finds ways to make Daichi weak in the knees, for no other reason than just because.

It hadn't been grand gestures like this, or even Kuroo's signature finesse that had reeled Daichi in. Daichi had never taken Kuroo's charm at face value, seeing underneath to the true Kuroo when he flashed that dorky smile, hearing the real Kuroo in his loud, quirky laugh. That side of Kuroo had been what stole Daichi’s heart—the very same side he gets all to himself.

By day he and Kuroo feign a work relationship built around their mutual love for stocks, finances, numbers, but at night it’s an entirely different, but simpler equation.

That doesn't stop Kuroo from pouncing on Daichi in the office every chance he gets.

A familiar set of lanky arms wrap around Daichi's torso from behind, and Daichi reaches up to further muss up Kuroo's already mussed hair, affection blooming in his chest.

"Oh, you. We're at work," Daichi gently admonishes. Nevertheless, he leans back onto Kuroo's chest, savoring the stolen half-moment.

"Awww, Dai, your no-touching rule isn’t fair—you know I can't resist that tie," Kuroo whines, grinning down at Daichi with mischief sparkling in his dark eyes. His fringe of bangs is long enough to tickle Daichi's forehead as he leans forward to peer into Daichi’s face.

Daichi puts on a show of frowning, thinking something similar about the excellent cut of Kuroo's slacks.

"It's the tie, I knew it!" he pouts, at the same time he tips his head up and nuzzles against Kuroo’s perfectly scruffy jawline.

"Only because it complements your handsomeness so well!" Kuroo says, quick to soothe, turning Daichi so that they’re facing each other.

"I know, I know, I just like to hear you say it,” Daichi mutters as his cheeks flush. “You cheeseball.”

"I'll tell you as many times as it takes," Kuroo says, warm and earnest, punctuating his words with a tug on Daichi's tie that puts another arrow in his chest.

Hook, line, and sinker.

It takes a mighty effort, but Daichi vows to revisit the detour his thoughts are taking when he can share them with Kuroo after hours, at home. Business comes first, for now.

"So how'm I supposed to work with all these flowers in the way, eh?"

"Your cubicle has never, and I mean never, smelled better." Kuroo untangles from Daichi so that he can gesture at Daichi’s petal-covered workspace. With a wink, he says, "Now this my best idea to date. You're welcome."

"Don't you have pockets to line?" Daichi reminds him. He grabs Kuroo's collar, dragging him down to plant the biggest, messiest Thank you on his lips.

When Kuroo pulls away for air, Daichi catches Kuroo’s bottom lips between his teeth, and this time his kiss means I wish you could stay a little longer.

Reluctantly, Daichi says, "Go get 'em, tiger,” and pokes Kuroo’s left shirt pocket, right above his heart.

Kuroo bares his teeth at Daichi and growls, finger guns cocked as he backs out of the cubicle and pivots on his heel.

"You take things too literally!" Daichi calls to Kuroo’s back, shaking his head fondly.

And then it’s just Daichi and his garden’s worth of roses. He doesn’t know how he's going to tackle the day's work surrounded by so many reminders that Kuroo cherishes him, which makes it hard to care about anything else, including his paycheck (the next of which, he vows, will go toward one-upping Kuroo with his own surprise).

Sneaky, romantic bastard, Daichi muses as he brushes his thumb over the dethorned stalk of the red rose. He really doesn’t miss anything.  

It pains Daichi to do so, but he shifts the flowers as best he can so that he can at least turn his computer on, even though his brain is far too scrambled to compose any emails, let alone analyze any numbers.

No sooner does Daichi's computer chime awake than does his bespectacled neighbor materialize over the top of the cubicle wall like a summoned wraith.

"Ooo, it does smell good in here," Oikawa simpers, gripping his chin in mock contemplation. "And just who is Dai-chan's secret admirer, might I wonder?"

"Not this again," Daichi mutters to himself. To Oikawa, he says, through clenched teeth, "I haven't the faintest idea what you’re talking about."

Oikawa hums thoughtfully. “Well don't worry, Rose Boy. Between you and me this office could use a little bit more of a clandestine...ambiance.

“And,” he continues, raising a finger before Daichi opens his mouth to ask him what the hell he’s talking about, “Tetsu-chan is quite the catch.”

Oikawa sinks back down into his own space as suddenly as he had appeared, leaving Daichi to his bewilderment and one hundred roses.

Are they that obvious? Daichi makes sure that they steal hidden seconds from the clock, seconds that stretch into timelessness when Kuroo’s lips find his. No one should have been able to guess that the pair of them shared more than just their line of profession—their home, their bed, their hearts.

With a few deep breaths, Daichi pushes his fears aside, as he’d somewhat managed with the roses. Not completely out of the way, but enough to let him focus.

Sort of.

The stark white of the roses crowd in on the edges of Daichi’s vision, almost as if demanding his attention, distracting him to his core with their message.

I love you, I love you, I love you, a hundred times, I love you.

Daichi’s eyes flit to the red rose next to his mouse pad, his fingers creeping to trace over the velvety petals.

And I don’t care who knows it.

Walking in to a surprise like this from Kuroo is nothing new. There was that one time he orchestrated a scavenger hunt that had begun as soon as everyone else left, at the first place they kissed—a cramped supply closet—and took him through all their favorite nooks and crannies for stealing a few moments and plenty of kisses, all leading up to the roof, where Kuroo had set up a picnic dinner for the two of them.

Each time the AC kicks in and the scent of the roses tickles in Daichi’s nose, his desire to pin Kuroo to the wall and kiss him senseless magnifies tenfold.

Overwhelming as the roses are, Daichi can’t bear to ruin the arrangement and pile the flowers into a heap in a corner, out of his line of sight. It would take up far too much of the clock anyway, not to mention they fill him with a drunken, giddy anticipation that thrums hotly in his blood like a song. I should have kissed him longer, harder.

It’s not long before Daichi decides he can't wait until they’re home to kiss Kuroo like he deserves. Daichi knows it’s not so much a choice as it is a necessity—that’s how he justifies packing up to take his break early. But then he realizes he’ll have to walk past Oikawa’s cubicle to get to Kuroo, and he pauses.

Kuroo’s mentioned Oikawa a couple of times, so Daichi’s pretty sure they must be good friends, especially to be on a first name basis. Unless Oikawa was teasing Daichi. But Daichi makes sure he and Kuroo are careful at work, so there’s no other way for Oikawa to know who exactly Kuroo is, and not by just his voice—unless he’s friends with Kuroo and Kuroo told him.

Daichi shakes his head clear of his worries. Ugh, enough already.

As if nothing were amiss, Daichi leaves his space and starts for the end of their hallway.

Don’t look up, don’t look up, Daichi silently pleads, but Oikawa's nose for scandal is sharp as ever, and he looks up as soon as Daichi comes into view.

Oikawa smirks at Daichi, tenting his fingers and propping his chin on them.

"I'll cover for you, if Ushijima asks," he says, with a little too much enthusiasm to be innocent.  

Daichi doesn’t have time to think about it too deeply. He silently nods his appreciation at him before heading down the hall to the elevator, mashing buttons as if that’ll get him to Kuroo quicker, to that seldom used hallway on the floor just beneath the higher-up’s offices.

The doors are hardly open before Daichi pushes through them like a bat out of hell, eyes landing on one of many giant indoor plants randomly scattered around the building. He makes straight for it, already knowing, already sure.

Kuroo waits for him, half obscured by the leaves, with a lazy smile perched on his lips.

"Roses driving you crazy? Good, because that's what you do to me—" Kuroo starts, amused that his words don’t stop Daichi in his approach.

Daichi silences him easily, backing him up against the wall with a soft thump as he cards his fingers through Kuroo’s hair and latches on, pulling him down to fit their mouths together, wet and hot and full of longing and promise.

"—all day long," Kuroo finishes, winded and a little hoarse, when Daichi pulls back.

Daichi swallows. They’re flush against one another, Kuroo parting his legs to allow Daichi to nuzzle closer, to kindle the heat between their bodies.

In Kuroo’s nearly black eyes is a ravenous hunger that must mirror Daichi’s own, belied by the way Daichi’s hands roam, and how he pushes up onto his tiptoes, not even bothered that he has to crane his neck to reach Kuroo’s lips.

Kuroo is more than eager to oblige him, if the hands that slip into Daichi’s back pockets are anything to go by. They drink their fill of each other for a few moments longer, then they pull apart and sink to the ground with the wall at their backs, hands linked between them.

“There’s something—” Kuroo starts, but he looks away from Daichi, his mouth melting into that soft, dopey smile. Then he looks up again and meets Daichi’s gaze. “There’s something hot about sneaking around with you.”

There are a multitude of words Daichi could use to describe how he feels about their situation. Dizzying. Intoxicating. Fun.

Instead, he says, “There’s nothing hot about getting fired. The guy next to me, Oikawa, he knows about us, Tetsurou, I’m sure of it.”

To Daichi’s surprise, Kuroo shakes his head and lets out a snort of laughter. His shoulder bumps Daichi’s with the motion. “Tooru? You can trust Tooru.”

“I trust him about as much as I trust you, which I’m sure you know is not at all.”Kuroo gasps dramatically, clutching his chest with his free hand. “Daichi!”

Daichi takes that hand, too, twining their fingers together. He leans into Kuroo’s space, sighing into the warm crook of his neck before pulling back to look up at him.

“It’s just, what if he reports us? He seems like the type, doesn’t he?”  

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that.” Kuroo waggles his eyebrows. “Tooru’s got other ways.”

Daichi stares at him blankly. “Other ways?”

“We’re friends from high school, yanno, and we still talk, and he told me he’s been toying around with Ushijima, and I may have let slip that I’m with someone from his floor, and he’s a really good guesser so...”

“Tetsurou! You didn’t!”

Kuroo offers a sheepish grin, at least. But Daichi can’t stay mad—not with this new bit of information that he can use against the bothersome Oikawa, and especially not with Kuroo looking at him like that—at least until Kuroo opens his mouth again.

“He even said he could get us into Ushijima’s office—”

Daichi (lightly) smacks Kuroo’s arm before he can finish, leaping over to straddle him with his cheeks burning like wildfire, quieting Kuroo with more kisses until they’ve borrowed all the time that they can from the silent clock, until work pulls them back into their separate, routine orbits.