It's You

by SteelAxe

Summary:

This is a purely self-indulgent fic that I've been writing because I am ignoring my problems and I have no shame! There is no plot, just Nanami + Reader smut and fluff that is very cute as they fall in love. It'll be part of a series once I've separated and edited the other works. Reader is Black Fem just for reading purposes (frankly there aren't enough of them) It is very cute, with many of my favorite tropes so enjoy! :)

Chapter 1: One

Shit, shit shit! You cursed yourself as you barreled down the sidewalk, clutching a mess of papers, your bag flailing behind you. The café door banged into the wall, and you flinched as you tumbled inside, water from your wet curls dripping in your face. You mumbled to yourself, attempting to assemble the papers again, a faint warmth filling your cheeks as the patrons looked and whispered at the sight in front of them.

“You know, you’re always exceptionally clumsy, Y/n.” The barista squatted next to you, who grinned sheepishly. “Late?”

“It’s my first day.” The words glided out of your mouth on a heavy exhale, and you carefully slid the folder into the satchel on your shoulder. The barista extended her hand and gestured to a small, white paper bag and a coffee cup on the counter.

“Almond croissant and a macchiato with two pumps of caramel and small puff of whipped cream topped with a dash of nutmeg.”

A grateful smile crossed your face as you tucked a few yen in the tip jar. “You’re a lifesaver, Eri.”

The barista saluted you and wished you luck as you bounded out the door only to crash into a sturdy wall of fabric. The man didn’t budge, his broad chest having absorbed the sudden impact and his hand cradled your elbow as you steadied yourself. You huffed and investigated his face; he seemed awfully familiar, your warped form reflecting off his glasses, and your face screwed up in concentration trying to place him.

“I apologize for my clumsiness; I’m running a bit late today…” You trailed off as you noticed his hand still gentle but firm on your arm, and you pulled back from his grasp, giggling nervously. He smoothed out his tan suit jacket, and for the first time, you registered his appearance. His chiseled jaw led into his perfectly sculpted neck, and you were willing to bet any amount of money that he looked as though he were carved out of marble; the flex of his bicep beneath his shirt only pointed to you being right. The sun glinted off the face of his silver watch and even with his relaxed posture, he exuded an aura as though each moment of his life were precious, and he were wasting it with you. You shook your head took another step back.

“Did I spill anything on you?”

“It’s fine, there’s nothing on my…” He glanced into your heart-shaped face and his eyes narrowed as he trailed off, just as you did earlier. Your eyebrows only scrunched more under his penetrating gaze. His head tilted to the side, and you mirrored him, confused, and you tugged on the hem of your dress, your tardiness suddenly forgotten.

“I’m sorry, is there something—”

Your mouth stopped forming words when he cut you off by saying your last name, and shiver like static danced down your spine. Fear creeped up your throat and you took a step back from the man, clutching the strap of your bag as you prepared to run, abandoning the pastry gifted to you. This stranger knew who you were, but if he were stalking you, it wouldn’t be any wonder; after all, you frequented Eri’s workplace on a near daily basis while you worked on your writing. The man searched your face expectantly, and upon seeing you trying to mask your terror as a million scenarios played through your head, he sighed, running a hand through his hair as he excused himself, stating something about mistaking you for someone else. In his shuffle to make you feel less uncomfortable, he bit his lip and tugged on his left ear, and the gesture made your stomach lurch as memories of a blonde boy with small smile on his face as you dissolved into laughter bubbled forth in your mind like water from a fountain.

“Nanami-kun?” You whispered, fingers fluttering over your mouth when a familiar smile stretched across his face. Years had passed since you last laid eyes on him, but time had been extremely kind to Nanami Kento. He towered over you, as he had since before you were teenagers, his shoulders were wider, and from the brief contact you had with him, you could tell he was muscular underneath his suit (a hard contrast to the softness of your body). The only sign of distress were the bags beneath his eyes, and you smiled, remembering the boy who was perpetually tired.

Nanami examined you just as you did him and a bright smile blossomed on your face. He could see you hadn’t changed much since he last saw you, which was a delight; it had been nearly ten years and you were leaving Japan for university in America. You see him taking in your appearance and cursed the twinge in your cheeks, for you knew the red undertones in your brown cheeks were emphasized and your gut roiled under feelings of self-consciousness at your plain lilac dress, olive green flats and white messenger bag. Your hand unconsciously touched your brown curly hair in its low bun, and you smoothed the tight curls framing your face. He smiled at the gold and emerald earrings glinting in your ears under the morning sun, and his chest fluttered, remembering the day he gifted them to you.

You chewed on your lip and your gentle voice yanked him from his reverie.

“I am running incredibly late, but it was really nice to see you again, Nanamin.” You glanced at your phone and swore, not even realizing how natural the nickname settled on and rolled off your tongue as you started running down the street. He barely opened his mouth to speak when you turned around, clumsily shuffling backwards.

“Get my number from Eri inside! I’ll see you around!” You yelled, causing a few heads to turn and watch you dart down the street and around the corner.

He turned to the door of the café, suddenly becoming aware of the people peering at him through the front window. Nanami stepped inside, clearing his throat as he made his way to the counter, reluctantly meeting the gaze of the smirking barista, who pushed her dark hair out of her face. He could only assume that she was the ‘Eri’ you spoke of, and his inkling was confirmed by a quick glance at her nametag. He perused the menu again, pretending to consider the new menu options. The rhythm of Eri’s neon orange fingernails tapping the counter lulled Nanami into thinking about you, though it wasn’t terribly hard for him to do so.

Your family moved next to his only just before you started at a new school, and he’d never forget your first interaction.

You knocked on the front door quickly and Nanami groaned before he opened it to your eager face.

“Hi, my name’s Y/n and my brother Hiro’s ball ended up in your yard. Could I grab it?” Nanami nodded and opened the door wide, leading you through the house. You looked around then at the boy’s disheveled hair and impeccable posture and a quizzical expression crossed your face. Nanami handed over the ball and you thanked him, giving a small thanks as you stood separated by the front doorway once more.

“Y/n? What kind of name is that?” His quiet voice made your ears perk up as he spoke for the first time. Nanami was well aware his question was rude, but it was early in the morning, and you had just woke him up. You noticed him looking intensely at your curly hair, brown skin, and slightly ambiguous eye shape, and could see the gears turning in his mind. Your smile surprised him.

“It’s weird.” He grew even more confused as you laughed.

“Yeah. But I’m weird too. What’s your name?”

“Nanami. Nanami Kento.” You smiled even wider, and though you didn’t, he noticed your left eye crinkling slightly.

“Nice to meet you, Nanamin.” His eyes widened at the nickname, but you already bounded to the house next door, yelling ‘Oi!’ and chucking the volleyball over the fence to your brother. You rummaged under a bush, pulled out a book, and settled beneath the large maple in the yard, where you’d read for hours every day.

From then on, Nanami kept an eye out for you, though he never had to search too far. You were always lounging barefoot beneath the tree in your yard, reading a new book every couple days. Occasionally, your brother Hiro ran about, chasing one ball or another, pestering you until you played whatever sport he was infatuated with at the moment. Nanami peeked out his front window for a few weeks until he looked out to see you eating a pear and holding up a glittery sign with bubble letters that read, ‘have you decided if you want to be friends yet?’ Nanami required a bit of a push before actually making his way outdoors, since he couldn’t usually be bothered with other children his age, but you were a girl with a strange name, and that intrigued more than anything.

He hadn’t known you moved back to Tokyo until a few months prior when he heard from your mother that your grandfather had passed after a prolonged illness that kept him bedridden. He’d call at least once a month to check up on her and your father, making sure they hadn’t needed anything since both you and your brother were living out of the country. She’d told him that you’d been home for about a year at that point to care for your grandfather and you’d taken his death the hardest, having holed yourself up in your empty apartment or days on end. Beneath her concern, Nanami understood that she was asking for him to give you time; she wasn’t sure you were ready for another heart wrenching ordeal.

He understood completely; he wasn’t sure he was ready to see you either, even though it had been almost a decade. He hadn’t seen you since you were 18. Whether or not he wanted to admit it, you were a different person from the one he grew up next door to; he didn’t know you anymore.

Nanami continued with his order and decided not to ask about your number. Even though he’d been trying to run into you for weeks at the café (thanks to a much-needed hint from your mother), actually running into you had flustered him and he needed to settle his excitement over seeing you again. Plus, you hadn’t immediately recognized him, which dealt a heavy blow to his ego. He gave Eri a curt nod as his thanks when handed his receipt and adjusted his tie, still uneasy after nearly melting under your unintentionally piercing gaze, even if only for a few moments. After sliding his cup and paper bag over the counter, Eri leaned against the dessert display case and crossed her arms. Nanami’s brow furrowed, even more flustered at her amusement.

“Is there something else you need from me?” He asked in his rasping, monotone voice.

“Back of the receipt.” Eri winked and slid away to take another order. Nanami massaged the paper between his thumb and pointer finger as he walked towards his car, and glanced at your name and number, along with a ‘Good luck!’ she’d scribbled.

Meanwhile, you hurtled through the front door of the school, coffee cup crumpled in your hand, and an apology dropping from your lips every few seconds as you shouldered through crowds of people. You cleared your throat and rapped on the door of the principal’s office twice with your middle finger.

The principal quickly waved you in, and you exchanged the required pleasantries before he droned on about the school and its academic standing within the district. You soon tuned him out, your eyes wandering over the glass trophies, club sign-ups, and colorful posters decorating the bulletin boards as they walked down the hall. You peered curiously into classrooms to see students paying careful attention to their teachers and engaging eagerly in class discussions. The hallways were immaculate and so empty that you could her your feet patting the linoleum floor. For a moment, you missed the bustling chaos of the school in America. It's quiet here. So quiet.

“So, how long have you lived in Japan, again?” You turned to see a twisted expression on the principal’s face and groaned internally. It was a look you experienced so often during your childhood. At first, it was funny, and you were able to feel as though you were on an adventure, but as an adult, it was growing tiresome to explain to people that you were, indeed, from Tokyo.

“I grew up here in Japan, but I moved to the States to complete my university schooling. I stayed there for a couple years teaching before moving back.”

The principal released a sigh in understanding and you fought not to roll your eyes, choosing to instead plaster a smile on your face as he gestured to an open classroom. He excused himself and you wandering to the desk, carefully arranging the papers as you look around. The desks were arranged in five rows of four, and the windows extended far to the high ceiling, letting the sunlight pour in. You turned and tapped the marker against your palm before writing your name on the whiteboard, and then propped your phone on the window ledge to examine your appearance, smoothing your dress and adjusting your bun. Your fingers danced nervously, and you practiced smiling in the camera, trying to decide how to present yourself to your students. Is my dress appropriate? Do I look okay?  You turned and hummed, making sure the plush, thick parts of your lower half were covered properly.

The bell rang and you released a small squeak, snatching the phone from the windowsill and just barely sliding behind the desk and slipping the phone in your bag when students spilled into the room. They were chatting, dressed in navy blue uniforms with unique variations, and you took all of them in, catching snippets of their excited conversations, and waited for them to take notice of you at the front of the classroom. The first years settled in after two minutes and silenced themselves instantly when you moved in front of the desk.

“Good morning everyone, I’m your new literature teacher Maeda Y/n, and you’ll address me as Maeda-sensei. I know this is a bit unexpected, so I’ll introduce myself first.” You leaned against the desk and recited your carefully crafted origin story.

Your paternal grandfather, Maeda Haru, was originally from Japan and was a modest fisherman, and moved to the United States in the 1940s, which quickly proved to be a mistake. The flagrant racism he faced in the West as a result of post-war propaganda rendered the country inhospitable, and he decided to move back to Japan. However, his close brushes then inspired him to pursue his dreams as an artist, and then met your grandmother, a shy children’s book writer, with whom he built a family of five. Your father, Hikaru, was the youngest and had an extremely reckless streak and was known to drop everything to travel wherever his heart desired. It was then, on a spontaneous trip to the States in his mid-twenties, that he met your before meeting your mother, Viola, a Black woman from the American South. She was a sculptor, and he’d walked into her studio one day, asking about a pottery class she offered. After only three days, the two were enamored with each other, having a love story people could only dream about. Their lives picked up quickly, and she moved with him to Tokyo, having your older brother, Hiro, a little while later, and you followed only a couple years after. You took after your adventurous father, having traveled for a few years after attending university in the States but returned home to be closer to your grandparents, which proved to be an intuitive decision, as your grandfather passed recently.

“I’ll also be getting to know all of you, and I’d like all of you to sign up for a slot—” You pointed at the back board. “—on the class calendar so that I can know about each one of you. Well, as much as you want me to, anyway.” Though your stomach was doing flips, you remained cool, calm, and collected—the exact opposite of your dorky, earnest self.

As you watched them sign up for meeting slots, you scrutinized your students, trying to gauge the nature of their relationships. The peach-pink hair and red hood of one boy’s uniform drew your eyes as he scrawled his name in a slot and sauntered over to a light-haired brunette girl and a boy with lidded green eyes and ink-blue hair. These kids all have very interesting hair colors. The group of three appeared to be close, as the first two lovingly teased their friend, who wrote his name beautifully with a small smile on his face.

Your eyes wandered over to two girls with dark green hair, one with a bob and the other with hair pulled into a high ponytail and pink glasses. Twins. The other students in her class captivated her, simply because there was something about them, their energy, she couldn’t place. The white-haired boy with a high collar covering his mouth, another extremely tall boy with black and white spotted hair, a blonde girl with two long pigtails—they all seemed full of life, all of their hands twitching and mischievous looks on their faces. She smiled at the first years and gestured as they all sat.

“Alright, we’re going to continue where Takeda-sensei left off in the nonfiction unit, and we’ll be starting with an autobiography…” You passed around worksheets and lectured while the students scanned the worksheets. It was always a concern that they would tune you out, but their eyes remained glued to you, listening to how they’d be discussing the relationship between societal expectations for aristocratic women and their religious beliefs. You tried to contain your excitement, but it was difficult since your students, the peach-haired one in particular, whose name you learned was Itadori Yuuji, barraged you with questions, their hands trembling in the air more than resting on their desks. I’ve never seen a classroom full of 15-year-olds this excited to discuss literature from the 10^th century.

“Based on the summary, who can tell me what we should expect from this unit—” You froze, suddenly interrupted by the sound of your ringtone. I had to go and make it the stupid duck quacking! The brown of your cheeks tempered into a bright copper at the snickers floating through the classroom, and you frantically rummaged through your bag to silence the phone. You sighed, only to groan when it rang again, almost more obnoxious than the first time.

“Excuse me for a moment.” You slipped out of the classroom and made a face when you saw Eri’s goofy face pressed against the screen. “Satori-kun, you do know that I’m in the middle of teaching—”

“My bad! But I wanted to know if you’ve gotten a call or text from the blonde bombshell you slammed into earlier.” You rolled your eyes, hearing the innuendos in your best friend’s voice.

“You mean Nanami—”

“OOOH, Nanami!! So, he’s the childhood friend, hmm?”

“Haven’t had time to check my phone, because, you know, I’m teaching first-years.” You hissed into the phone, glancing at the classroom.

“Fine, fine! I’ll come over afterwards and we can talk. Love you!” The beep sounded in your ear, and you shook your head, giggling. You slid back into the classroom, clearing your throat and gathering the attention of your first years.

“That was an excellent reminder for me to change my ringtone.” You smiled at their laughs and winked. “Now, where were we?”

**

Eri sat outside of your apartment scrolling on her phone when you stopped in front of her wiggling your feet. You beamed at your friend and shimmied excitedly as you sat beside her, and Eri smiled at your goofy expression.

“Alright, tell me about your first day.”

As soon as the words left your month, you gushed about your students, who you couldn’t wait to learn more from. Even in the brief time you spent with them, you could tell you were going to learn more about yourself not only as an educator, but also as a person. Eri watched your face light up at your new job and because you were deep in the spiral of your new career, she decided not to bring up Nanami; she decided you didn’t need any more embarrassment than what you endured when your duck ringtone went off in class that morning. You also needed a win; you had been home in Japan for a couple years but had spent most of your time tending to your ailing grandfather, whose memory faded more and more while his eyes brightened into a milky blue. Hiro lived in Europe playing volleyball professionally, and your parents were busy as curators of their art gallery, so it was up to you to maintain the integrity of the family. Your grandfather Haru passed recently and since you had spent so much time taking care of others, your own dreams had been put on hold. Having to bear the exhaustion of so much change as you moved back along with your grief and the education exam, you didn’t really know what to do with yourself. You moved out on your own recently and the apartment was still lined with boxes and blank walls.

Eri hoisted yourself up and stuck her hand out to you.

“C’mon, if I’m gonna listen to you talk about teenagers, might as well help you finally unpack.”

Eri visited you at the end of the school day, often greeting you at the gate with a snack in hand and a story on deck about demanding customers or her eccentric boss and the café’s theme for the week. She helped you unpack the apartment a little at a time, and Eri listened for the mention of Nanami, but his name never left your lips. You tried not to think about him since that day, and soon, you barely thought about him at all.

Meanwhile, each first year was uniquely gifted, and the more you worked with them, the less nervous you felt about teaching. You loved to talk about your students as you were beginning to understand the dynamics of the group, their friendships, and even the fraught relationship between the Zen’in twins (Mai and Maki) in your class. Todo Aoi and Itadori were great friends who encouraged each other’s antics, but the latter of the two was often reined in by Fushiguro Megumi and Kugisaki Nobara. Inumaki Toge was best friends with a boy named “Panda” (you weren’t even sure of his given name but obliged his request for the nickname), Noritoshi Kamo was a loner and liked it that way, and Fushiguro was cousins with the Zen’in twins, but clearly closer with Maki, and their brilliance shone through as they led the class consistently in discussions and produced excellent quality papers.

Even your individual meetings with the students had gone well; you took notes on their personal preferences, looking for new suggestions to factor into the curriculum (Itadori was particularly charming and had convinced you to consider historical graphic novels). Teaching the first years had been extremely fulfilling because of their level of engagement with each material you assigned, which pushed you to find more challenging works and more creative assignments.

You stood mumbling to yourself, staring at the concept map the students worked together to develop. Your fingers danced over the dry-erase markers, picking up the bright pink one to write notes around the connected shapes. Social hierarchy, you mouthed when a knock made your head swivel, turning your attention to the doorway. A wide-eyed Itadori stood nervously, and you smiled gently and waved him in.

“Itadori-kun, hi—” Your smile faltered as the boy shuffled in, a defeated expression on his face as he sat in a desk a bit away from you. “What’s going on?”

“Maeda-sensei, could you help me with something?” He asked quietly. You crossed your arms and walked to the front of the desk and leaned against it, your mustard yellow pants creasing slightly, and you found yourself nodding fervently at the teenager. “Well, I’m learning a lot from you, you’re a great teacher, but…I’m struggling.” Itadori tugged at his hair, and you could see the frustrations on his face, and realized the boy was bothered deeply.

You knew that he was right; Itadori participated often in class and held onto every word that passed between students, but he was much better at articulating his ideas out loud than onto paper. He asked questions that sometimes seemed to be elementary or have obvious answers, but Itadori didn’t pay his peers’ expressions or responses any mind; Itadori didn’t really care about how he seemed to others, as long as he was learning. To be fair, Kugisaki often acted as his personal defender and Fushiguro guided him through review guides and in-depth textual analysis. However, you noticed there was a disconnect between whatever he was thinking and what he managed to communicate on his written work and exams. You could see him beginning to withdraw from the class and beating himself up when receiving another seminar evaluation.

“My, uh, dad would like to meet with you about my grades.” He mumbled, hanging his head to hide his blushing cheeks.

“Why don’t I stick around after school, and he can meet with me while you’re at basketball club. We can figure it out together, don’t worry.” He nodded and you leaned forward. “Yuuji, you’re a good student. You are smart, and it’s okay that you need help. We all need to ask for help sometimes.”

A familiar smile lit up his face and he scratched the back of his head while nodding, giving his thanks while he ran out of the room, dialing his parent. You sat at the desk and pulled out all of Itadori’s assignments and started taking notes, circling different problem areas and referring back to the syllabus and creating a new plan for him over the next couple hours. Another knock sounded in the doorway, and you smiled, your gaze still glued to the paper.

“Itadori-san, please come in. I’ll be—” Your eyes snapped to the doorway and your voice escaped you as you attempted to understand the sight before you. “Nanamin? What are you doing here?”

His suit jacket was folded neatly over his left arm and the suspenders fit over his pressed blue shirt neatly. His face wore the tired expression of a long workday and while his spine was pole straight, his posture seemed effortlessly relaxed, his right hand resting in his pocket, fidgeting with his keys slightly. Nanami recognized the expression rippling across your face and tried not to smile at the telltale signs of your confusion: eyebrows knitted together, skin of your forehead wrinkling, your mouth opening and closing without any sound. It reminded him of when the two of you studied together. His presence finally registered, and you stood suddenly, smoothing your cream shirt, and moving from behind the desk.

How’d he even figure where I worked?

“I’m sorry, is there another time we could do this? I’m waiting on a student’s father to come and discuss his progress.” You gestured at the papers neatly arranged across the desk, and he chuckled knowingly.

“Maeda-san, I’m Yuuji’s father.” You stuttered, unable to find words as he pulled a chair up to the wooden desk, a smirk on his face. That smirk, jesus.

“You’re…Itadori’s father?” A million questions tumbled through your mind before you cleared your throat. “I’m sorry, Nanami-san, you’re here to talk about Yuuji’s progress. Here’s what I’ve noticed so far.”

As though your brain flipped a switch, you focused entirely on the student, showing the papers and analysis, along with his comments in group work and notes you had taken during their class discussions.

You did have your students reading above their grade level, so you hadn’t expected them to know all the answers or even elements of textual analysis. Itadori performed well when working in groups and contributed insightful comments to the class discussion, but they didn’t transfer over to his individual work.

“He works really well with Kugisaki and Fushiguro, though Fushiguro is the one who really tempers his excitement in class. They complement each other well. But his confidence isn’t as high as when they work on their own, and I think it’s because he regards Fushiguro as being smarter than him.” Nanami listened to you intently, making small noises in agreement with you as you circled some grammar issues in his work.

You glanced over at Nanami and his sculpted jaw and were both surprised and at ease at the familiarity of his presence after nearly a decade. He examined his son’s work intensely, eyes scanning quickly before he turned page after page. His solemn presence definitely made you register him as a thoughtful, engaged parent who was invested in his son’s academic career. Granted, many of your students had parents that were removed from their education, especially since they were in high school. Yours were also included in that subset of parents; Hiro required more monitoring than you ever did since sports became more of his priority, which made sense given his unnatural athletic abilities. A thought pushed to the forefront of your mind.

“Yuuji is an extremely bright boy. He’s very gifted in athletics, but beyond that, he’s kind, and extremely inquisitive. He asks questions and makes connections more so than any of his peers. I know he just needs to believe in himself more to produce exceptional work on his own.” You looked up at Nanami and cleared your throat, retreating a few inches.

“He is a fast learner. He’s been having a rough time…adjusting.” Nanami sighed and smoothed his hair back, and you didn’t push any further. “I want to see him perform his absolute best.”

“You have nothing to worry about Nanami-san.” You laid your hand on his shoulder but quickly removed it, reaching for the notepad. “I’m thinking about hosting open study hours to further review the texts and include some practice exercises and I’d like to incorporate more group exercises. I also want to meet with Fushiguro to see how their group work goes along and what methods seem to work for Yuuji when they work together. I can tell they know each other really well.”

Nanami nodded, and you could tell a bit of the tension that made him extremely rigid melted after being reassured about his son. You felt better knowing that there was someone looking out for him at home; oddly enough, it was easy to tell dynamics of students’ households based on how they performed in the classroom. Take the closest trio in the classroom: Kugisaki, Fushiguro, and Itadori. Kugisaki often bared her metaphorical teeth to protect her two friends and was very open about the texts and her opinions of it. She was slowly learning to accept that she, too, could have inaccurate perceptions, and her defensiveness indicated to you that Nobara was probably on her own.

Fushiguro was interesting to observe, given that he had family in the same class. You easily tagged his brilliance in the brief time of knowing him, but he was extremely withdrawn and quiet, though Kugisaki and Itadori often drew smiles from him. He was extremely self-sufficient and one of the quickest thinkers you had ever seen, but he also lacked confidence, and seemed uncomfortable in his own presence, indicating that he probably didn’t have responsible authority figures.

Lastly, Itadori was slightly more relaxed, which meant that he had a consistent outlet or some other area where he was gifted and lauded with praise, and often meant that he was easily discouraged but hard-working. He was still getting used, however, to genuine support and care.

You moved from beside Nanami and gathered your papers, sliding them into the folder and then into your bag. You faced him, and he sent off a quick email on his phone before turning all of his attention to you again.

“He has a bright future ahead of him, he’ll be okay.” You gave him a wide smile and he nodded, the worry melting off of his face. The two of you stood still as statues, looking everywhere but each other as it was clear the meeting had drawn to a close. You took pictures of the board before washing it down and locked up the materials before leaving school for the weekend, and leaned against the windowsill, silhouetted by the setting sun.

“So, um…I’ll send home a letter on his improvements over the next month or so?” He nodded and you did too. “Great. We can call it a night.” Neither of you moved to leave, and Nanami glanced at your bouncing leg.

“Maeda-san, are you in a rush? I planned to stay until Yuuji’s basketball club finished meeting.”

“Not in a rush! I just didn’t know if you needed anything else from me.” He shook his head, and you adjusted the bag on your shoulder. “Also, please call me Y/n. No formalities needed.”

“Alright, then.” His answer seemed clipped, but he wasn’t irritated in the slightest. How could you have forgotten?

Nanami Kento was a firm believer in concision and brevity. He was nothing if not relentlessly efficient. Another long pause stretched across the air, and Nanami glanced at the clock; almost an hour was to pass before Itadori would be ready to head home. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to leave your classroom.

“Would you…” Your head swiveled up from your phone at the low rumble; you’d sent a frantic text to Eri. “Do you want to catch up? How’ve you been?” You walked over to the desk and hopped onto it, folding your legs as you looked at him.

“You first, Nanamin.”

In the decade that elapsed between your departure and reunion, Nanami had led a quiet and uneventful life. After attending Tokyo University, he became a salaryman, working at some random company to distance himself from his family, until his father’s sudden retirement roped him into an upper leadership position of the family business, which his childish and irresponsible father had driven to near ruin. He worked hard to rebuild the company and had had great success, even expanding its reach in just a few years, but the sheer weight of his position led the quiet, stoic man to retreat further into himself after countless incidents of people throwing themselves at him for the sake of some cash. He had friends, a few of them being ones they shared in high school, though he considered one white-haired man to be more of a “menace to society” rather than a loved one. His life had been a rather humdrum one, until he met Itadori.

It was through his university friend Gojo Satoru (the aforementioned menace) that he met the overzealous boy during his early twenties when he was roped into attending Gojo’s nephew, Megumi’s 7^th birthday party. Unsurprisingly, the child had always been unable suspend his disbelief when it came to expected anything of Gojo, but Nanami waved the thought away; that would be a tale for another time, when he wasn’t desperately willing the seconds to linger. Around age 9, Itadori lost his sole family member, leaving the boy without a guardian, so Nanami, having the room, resources, and a soft spot for the kid’s pink hair that defied the laws of nature, adopted Itadori as his own. He hadn’t the faintest clue about being a parent but cared for the boy as best as he knew how. While he wasn’t the most emotional person, he bestowed as much affection upon Itadori as he could muster.

Your heart bled for the boy when you learned of his background, but you were grateful that the two had found family in each other. The only thing you were unclear about was whether he had a partner, a wife, who helped him raise his son. You updated him on your life and Nanami enjoyed the comfort with which he conversed with you; it reminded you both of simpler times, like when you’d walk home together after school, snacking on onigiri he’d purchased at a convenience store. You’d been his closest friend for as long as he could remember; together, you accounted for every moment you’d spent apart until you barreled into him outside of the café.

“Nanamin…why didn’t you call me?” Your voice was quiet, and you tried not to show the hurt on your face.

“I didn’t want you to feel obligated to converse with me since our reunion was sudden and you didn’t remember me.” He was embarrassed to admit it, and his cheeks flamed when you scoffed.

“I’m wearing earrings you bought me 15 years ago and you’re worried that I’d be faking wanting to see you? Sometimes, Kento, you’re an idiot. You should’ve just called me.”

He cleared his throat at the mention of his first name; you had always made a point to call him that, especially since he referred to you as ‘the girl with the weird name’ when you were kids. You shook your head at his reddening cheeks, and while you laughed, he watched the gentle stretch of your throat and dialed your number. You excused yourself at the sight of the unfamiliar number and stepped away from him, answering in a gentle voice.

“Well, I’m calling you now. It’s not too late, is it?” You whirled around and snorted, rolling your eyes playfully at him.

“Never too late for a friend.” You hung up and strode over to him, tapping your phone on your arm with a smirk. You stopped a few feet in front of him, and tilted your head, winking, and Nanami stretched and moved his fingers slightly. The air hung heavy in the silence between you.

Sneakers pounding down the hall reminded you that were in the school, and you blinked rapidly when Itadori’s floppy hair poked through the doorway.

“Hey, Maeda-san! Nanamin, you ready to go?” The blonde nodded and Itadori disappeared, undoubtedly running towards the lot where Nanami parked. You smiled as he sighed, and you instinctively smoothed the back of his jacket when he slipped it on.

“Nanamin, huh?” You walked under the bright light of the hallway, wiggling your eyebrows playfully when he held the door open for you.

“He started calling me that when I first met him, and…it stuck.” He didn’t want to say that the nickname made him feel warm; after all, it reminded him of you, who liked to stare straight into the sky and imagine something great. He watched you, the slight ripple of your throat as you swallowed, your brown skin surrounded by the hazy glow of the streetlight, and your brown curls piled on top of your head looking the color of ash. “Thank you for meeting with me on short notice about Itadori.”

“It’s not problem at all. Yuuji is an absolute joy to teach, and I’m glad he has someone looking out for him at him. He’s really lucky to have you.” You squeezed his forearm for a few seconds too long, fingers molded to the curve of his muscle even as you walked a bit before Nanami called out to you.

“Let me give you a ride home, Y/n.”

“Oh, no, I can fully take the bus—”

“It’s a little chilly and it’s dark—”

“Nanami, I promise I can take care of myself—” You protested, but your skin raised in goosebumps at the feel of his large, warm hand covering yours completely; you were at a loss for words.

“Please. Can I please drop you home?” You acquiesced with a simple nod and let Nanami lead you to the sleek black car glittering beneath the glaring streetlamp. Itadori was nodding off in the backseat but jolted up when Nanami closed the door after helping you in the car.

“Sensei? What are you doing here?” He asked with a yawn, but you just looked down at your tingling hand, trying to ignore how easily your heart fluttered at his touch. We haven’t spoken in ten years, but it feels like no time has passed. I haven’t—I don’t even—what is going on here?

Nanami watched you stare at your hand, your fingers wiggling, and was certain your cheeks deepened into a burgundy, and he smiled before looking at Itadori in the rearview mirror.

“We’re old friends, and I’m giving her a ride home since our meeting stayed so late.” Itadori nodded and rubbed his eyes sleepily, soon slumping across the backseat.

Nanami’s hand knocking on your knee nudged you out of the intense web of your thoughts, and you cleared your throat, turning to see him sighing.

“I don’t know where you live.” You laughed nervously before giving him directions to your apartment. Nanami had driven most of the way there, and within a few minutes, the car was idling outside of the apartment. You almost asked him to come up when Itadori’s soft snore reminded you that Nanami had far more serious responsibilities than you.

“What do you plan to do about dinner?” He asked, leaning across the passenger seat as you peered through the open window.

“Probably leftover takeout and wine. It’s the weekend, after all.” Nanami blinked and nodded, remembering the movie nights you had together where you’d wear a large, oversized hoodie that came past your knees and your curly hair pulled into two buns. You bit your lip as you contemplated your next thought. “If you’re not busy…we could spend more time hanging out. Gotta make up for lost time, you know?”

“Of course. Are you free tomorrow morning?” You nodded, trying not to appear too excited. “I know a nice breakfast place downtown. I’ll text you the address.” You nodded and checked your texts to see one from him. Another came in with a smiley face.

“Since when do you use emojis?” You cocked an eyebrow at your old friend, who shrugged and pointed his thumb at the sleeping teenager.

“He’s been a youthful influence on me.” You giggled and he smiled at your shaking. “See you in the morning?” You nodded and pulled back but opened the car door again and kneeled on the passenger seat, finally realizing what had been nagging at you the whole ride.

“You’ve got to give me more credit. How could I possibly not remember you, Nanamin?”

He let his face be smushed as you shook it, muttering something about him being ‘so smart yet unbelievably clueless’ and some weird noise as you clambered out of the car.

You waved goodbye, only to realize that Nanami waited to pull off until you were safely inside the building. You sighed and kicked your shoes off right inside your door and stripped, leaving a trail of clothes to your bedroom before you slipped on an oversized hoodie and your slippers shaped like bear claws. A glance in the mirror at the earrings made you smile again; Nanami had given them to you when you were kids after an emotional movie night.

Nanami and you were inseparable once you become friends, and even started forming your own traditions, the longest running one being weekly movie nights. Though two of you tried to keep them on Fridays, you were occasionally interrupted by a family dinner, an unexpected cold, or overwhelming exam seasons. But it was often the event that got you through rough weeks and was your constant.

You rolled around, whining with your face pressed into the floor of the blanket fort. Nanami ignored your toddler antics while he fiddled with the DVD player.

“Why do we have to watch something different, Nanamin?” You kicked the floor and he groaned, making you perk your head up just in time to see him roll his eyes.

“We’ve watched ‘Spirited Away’ for the past month, Y/n.”

“It’s a good movie!”

“Don’t worry, I have something better. You’ll love this one.” You pouted and whined again, burying your face in a pillow. “You’re such a baby.”

“You’re the baby.” You frowned at him and he smushed your cheeks together as the opening credits played.

“Be quiet and watch the movie, dummy.” He pushed you over and you squealed. It only took twenty minutes for you to become enraptured with the film, hands rested underneath your chin and eyes glued to the tv screen. Nanami chuckled, watching your reactions to emotional parts of the film, and you whimpered slightly as the end credits rolled.  

“Told you you’d like it.” He said softly and you turned to him, shocking him at the sight of tears flowing down your face. Nanami knew you’d like ‘Howl’s Moving Castle’ and you were often emotional, but never to that degree. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you think we’re like that?” You asked softly, your chest seizing.

“Like what? Howl and Sophie? We’re still pretty young—”

“I mean, do you think we’d be friends, regardless of time? Would we come back to each other? Would you…would you wait for me, Kento?” Nanami peered into your tear-stained face and for the first time, you had rendered him speechless. You sighed and laid flat on your back.

“What are you thinking?”

“Sophie said it best. ‘A heart’s a heavy burden.’”

“We’re still really young, Y/n.” You turned your head to face him and smiled.

“Doesn’t make a heart any less heavy.” You hoisted yourself up with a groan, ignoring Nanami’s concerned gaze. “You were right, I did like that one. C’mon, let’s watch another one!”

The next day you woke to a sharp knock on the door, and you yawned as you peered onto the porch only to see a small bag with a satin ribbon. It was a pair of gold earrings with dangling emeralds set in them, and you cooed softly as you caressed them. At the bottom of bag was a note the size of an index card and you withdrew it slowly, reading Nanami’s careful handwriting:

 

You’re not bearing a heavy heart alone. I’d find you in every future, dummy.

Nanamin

 

You settled into the couch, chopsticks in one hand and a takeout container in the other. The memory flash filled you with warmth and you picked up the remote.

“Guess I know what I’m watching tonight.” You smiled, unconsciously fiddling with the earrings, a few tears pricking the back of your eyes when Howl first appears by Sophie, his ring glinting as he says ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere’. Your mind wandered several times to Nanami, thinking whether he’d been looking for you too. At least he found you.

You walked into the restaurant, scanning the tables for any sight of Nanami so hard that you didn’t hear the hostess ask who you were looking for. She led you to the upper floor and onto the terrace, where you saw Nanami sitting at a table with an intricate arrangement of flowers. The hostess bowed and excused herself, and you watched Nanami fiddle with the sleeves of white knit shirt, pushing them up to reveal his forearms, which flexed in a way that made your mouth water when his hand drummed on the table, and he checked his watch. You shook your head. Nanami had always been punctual to a fault and extremely impatient, so you lingered to make him squirm a bit. When he huffed and smoothed his hair back for a third time, you walked to the side, sneaking up behind him to whisper in his ear,

“Feeling impatient, huh?” He tensed at the sensation of your warm breath on his ear, and you slid into the seat across from him, dissolving into giggles at the pronounced outline of his jaw.

“I see you still insist on being late?”

“It’s not my fault, okay? Time just…” You waved your hand in a circular motion, and Nanami shook his head. “I don’t experience time passing the same as others.”

“Must you startle me like that?”

“I couldn’t resist! I like seeing you squirm, Kento.” He sighed, but amusement decorated his lips when you winked at him, resting your chin on your clasped hands. A waiter glided by your table, setting two mugs in front of you with a promise that your ordered food would be out in a few moments. You raised a questioning eyebrow at Nanami, who smirked and folded his arms on the table.

“You were late, so I ordered for both of us.”

“What, trying to prove you still know me Nanamin?” He only shrugged, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip and smile. “Alright then. Show me.”

“Drink.” You pulled down the sleeves of your dress and picked up the ceramic mug with covered palms, a slight tingle slithering down your spine as Nanami held eye contact with you. You took simultaneous sips and your eyes widened as the warm sweetness covered your throat.

“Hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and a dash of nutmeg.”

“Okay, but that’s an easy one. I’ve always had a sweet tooth.” You said, half of your face obscured by the mug as you drank. He shrugged and the waiter glided back, expertly placing your dishes in front of you before leaving. His smooth movements made you look at his feet, and then at all of the other wait-staff; they were all wearing skates. You let out a noise like ‘huh’ and looked at your plate with banana pancakes, overeasy eggs, hash browns, and sausage.

“Nanamin, I can’t possibly eat all of this.” You looked at the massive spread on his side of the table, your eyes wide.

“I already asked them to prepare to-go containers for us since we have plans later.” You opened your mouth to ask what he meant, but he pointed at the champagne flute next your plate. “I also ordered mimosas, but it’s watered down since you have the tolerance of a newborn kitten.”

“Okay, fine, fine.” You took a bite of the pancakes and groaned at the near perfection melting in your mouth. You glanced across the table, watching him cut into his food with an almost surgical precision. “Let me guess, mushroom, spinach, and onion omelet, a bowl of fruit with no melon, and bacon, just erring on the side of too crispy.”

Nanami looked up and saw your eyes closed and bright smile as you shimmied in your seat, the sunlight making your golden dress glow. He hummed in approval, and you clapped, turning your attention back to your own food.

Soon, you and Nanami struck up more conversation, this time detailing the antics of your respective families. Nanami was an only child, so his parents were both deeply obsessed with and disengaged from his life, allowing him extensive freedom during his childhood while knowing nearly all his life’s happenings. When he was a teenager, his parents abandoned their responsibilities to permanently vacation in Australia, traveling around the world, and leaving the company to him when he turned of age. His father was eccentric, treating his company like a circus, and his mother was a collector, having accumulated different works from European artists and building a private museum, calling it “payback”. He had never figured out what she meant.  Now, Nanami’s family consisted of his friends, but mostly Itadori, who was as unpredictable as teenagers come.

“Where is Itadori-kun now?” You asked, laying your silverware down gently.

“He’s having a sleepover with Fushiguro and Kugisaki.”

“Have you had any trouble with him lately?”

“I’ve never had trouble with him. He’s a good kid. Really, he’s had trouble with me.”

“How’s he been since—” You stopped yourself abruptly, recognizing your mistake.

Though he hadn’t confided in you, you had seen Yuuji and Megumi inching closer to each other in class, their pinkies looped around each other as they worked in tandem. You thought it was sweet how tender the boys were with each other and based on how they were drawn to each other like magnets, it was obvious they were together. But you had almost said that part out loud, realizing at the last moment that you weren’t sure if Nanami knew, and it wasn’t your place to tell him.

Nanami looked at you curiously when you squeaked and covered your mouth with your hand, on the brink of saying something you weren’t supposed to, and he quickly made the connection that it was about Itadori. He smiled at you and nodded.

“Don’t worry, I know. Apparently, things are going well between them.”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘he’s had trouble with you’? You’re not giving him a hard time, are you?” Your face hardened and you pointed your utensil at him menacingly, which made his face blanche.

“No, oh god no. I just mean that parenting is harder than I thought it would be. He’s just really patient with me.” You eyed him with a jokingly mean look but smiled as you took another bite.

“You’re okay with them having a sleepover?”

“Those three have been friends since childhood, so you know, they have sleepovers often, just like we did.”

The words tumbled out of his mouth, and you hummed, remembering how you often stayed over at his place since it was quiet, and you were next door neighbors. It wasn’t like you were far, and Nanami was your best friend. But you were reminded of Hiro’s near constant teasing when you’d return home and could feel the mortifying ordeal of being a teenager creeping up on you. Nanami thought your lip-gnawing was rather cute, and you shook your head, clearing your throat as you brought the topic back to family, and of course, Nanami asked you about Hiro.

Your older brother was brilliant, practically a genius, and it didn’t go unnoticed; in fact, it was magnified by everyone: your parents, instructors, anyone who caught a ride on Hiro’s wind. It was like his hands were magic, succeeding at everything he touched whether it was multivariable calculus or the trumpet. Hiro was a sociable person as well, charming everyone with his dazzling smile. You were content to live in his shadow, and you did for a while, but it also filled you with fear. Hiro had never worried about performing poorly at anything; he simply launched himself into whatever activity he tried, burying his heart into it. And he was exceptional.

“How has he been playing volleyball for Hungary, and still not speak a word of the language?” Nanami leaned on the table, amused by your story. You giggled, slightly warm from the two mimosas you’d downed.

“Apparently, he gets by just fine in Budapest, which means he just relies on his girlfriend to translate everything.” Nanami snorted. “To his credit, though, he’s picked up so many languages over the years, beyond Japanese and English. He’s also lived in Argentina, Spain, the Netherlands, Ghana, the States. Too many places for me to count. He’s a genius, he could absolutely pick it up if he wanted to. But, you know, I think he’s just enjoying himself.” You waved the air, exuding a false sense of irritation to mask your insecurity. You sighed and rested your chin on your fist, glancing over the railing of the terrace at the people milling about.

You’d never been upset or jealous of your brother and the fact that he was especially gifted. Hiro had been scouted by the national Japan Youth team when he was just a first year in high school, and he was willing to put his career on hold to come home and care for your grandfather, but you urged him not to. It wouldn’t have been fair for him to return home when you were trying to figure out what you wanted to do with your life. Hiro found his passion when he was very young, and it was exciting to watch him feed his love for volleyball, and your parents were more than encouraging. But all the while, you kept wondering when you would find yours. Your father was more than eccentric, and you still weren’t quite sure what he did, or what your mother did after she left teaching, but they were endlessly supportive of both of you, believing you were a late bloomer and would find your niche. But you were a few months shy of 27, and still confused.

“You look wistful.” You blinked, momentarily forgetting you were at brunch with your friend, who had a caring expression on his face. “What are you thinking about?”

“I can’t believe people look at you and think that you’re intimidating.” You smirked, and he rolled his eyes. “I know, you’re gonna tell me I’m deflecting. I’m just happy that he’s following his dream.”

“What about you?” Your gaze shifted from the strangers into Nanami’s face. He reached across the table hesitantly, and when you nodded, gently laid his hand on top of yours. Your face had a quizzical look on it. “What’s your dream? What do you want to do?”

Warmth spread across your face like water spilling across the floor and you sputtered. “I, uh, I-I don’t know, really.”

“You do know. Why are you afraid to say it?”

“It’s hard wanting to try something new when I’ve never known anyone who’s failed.”

Embarrassment spread across your face as you looked away from him. Truthfully, you knew exactly what you wanted to do. Before you started teaching, you’d spent nearly every bit of your free time writing screenplays. There wasn’t a time when you weren’t daydreaming about light choices, filming the landscape and writing monologues, delving into the intimacy humans foster with each other. But you were hesitant. It wasn’t because of your family; your grandparents were artists and your parents celebrated and encouraged you and Hiro’s interests. But living in Hiro’s shadow made you afraid to touch anything. He was golden, and it embedded a fear of failure so deeply in you that you buried each of your wishes.

“I-I really enjoy teaching, I do, but I…” You took a deep breath, and maintained eye contact, your eyes glistening. “I want to make films. I want to write, to direct, to start a film studio. I want to do it all.”

“Then do it.” Nanami leaned closer to you, and you grew giddy, suddenly energized by his eagerness.

“What if I don’t know what I’m talking about?”

“You’d watched more movies by the time you were 13 than most people in their lifetimes. Do you think Hiro has ever doubted himself? No one can question your own belief in yourself.”  

Your eyes widened and Nanami’s chest expanded at the hope spreading across your face as you swung your chair over to his side of the table and dug the pages from inside your bag, flipping through a short film series you’d been working on. Sitting beside him, yammering on about your interests, spurred on by his comforting remarks and notes, you felt at ease. It was as though no time had passed between the two of you, like you were teenagers again and everything felt possible. Granted, the champagne in the mimosa relaxed you enough to melt into the comfort of your old friend, the familiarity of his friendship. Another side effect of alcohol was the overwhelming feeling that you couldn’t be killed.

You wrestled with Nanami over the check, but he deftly slid his weighty American Express card into the folder, flicking your forehead when you groaned. A pout rested on your face until he grabbed your hand, guiding you down two flights of stairs below the entrance to the restaurant. You demanded an answer from him, but the questions dripped off your lips when neon rays flickered across your face, obscuring your vision briefly. You shielded your eyes, blinking until your vision cleared, exclaiming when the roller-skating rink came into view. You squealed in delight, storing your belongings in a locker, and skating effortlessly onto the smooth wooden rink, beckoning a struggling Nanami towards you with dancing fingers. You skated backwards in a figure eight while he gripped the railing.

“Aww, you look so cute.”

“I’d be more impressed by your skating if you weren’t making fun of me. Where’d you learn to skate like that?”

“I skated a lot in college. Plus, my mom’s a great skater.” Nanami’s legs drifted in opposite directions, and he stumbled. “Here, hold my hand.”

“Thank you.” His large hand covered yours, but you soon placed your hand on his lower back to steady his balance. The natural color of his face was obscured by the flashing lights, and he was grateful for you not being able to see his blushing face at you being so close. Your warm hand  on his back scattered his focus. He’d blushed more times in the past day than he had in years.

“Nanamin, you have to bend your knees. You can’t think your way out of skating. Just let your body move naturally, okay?”

He nodded, his impassive expression replaced by one of extreme concentration, and you slowly let go of him, taking a video and a few pictures of him skating. Your encouragement spurred him forward, and he slowly relaxed, less disjointed than when he started. Nanami looked up to see in front of him, gliding backwards as you danced to 90s Japanese pop.

“So, what’s your dream?” Your question startled him, but his face remained cool and uninterested, almost apathetic.

“I’ve never really had dreams.”

You’d expected his answer. It was rehearsed, robotic, and you’d heard it many times before. Nanami often gave very practical answers to questions about his life; he performed well, which was to be expected of him. Nanami was predictable, planning to work to have enough money to retire earlier. With no siblings and an estrangement from his family, Nanami was locked into the CEO position until further notice. He didn’t mind; it was merely a job where others appreciated his meticulousness and efficiency. Besides, he had never been able to suspend his disbelief long enough to have unrealistic dreams. But there were moments when the opaque curtains of his life parted and the light gleamed differently. Mostly, it was due to Itadori’s blind optimism, but when he was young, it was your enthusiasm that surrounded him. A glowing light. Like the one that surrounded you now as you made silly faces skating circles around him.

He shrugged, mumbling something about just having leisure time, traveling to a country with a low cost of living without anyone being able to reach him. It would have to be an adequate answer for now. You laughed and poked him, teasing him for his practicality and pushing him to be a bit more impulsive, but he’d been content with life as it was with you and Itadori.

Nanami dropped you off at home and you gave him a long warm hug before bounding into your apartment to plan lessons for the week. Yeah, he was definitely content. Even…happy.

He was serious about making up for lost time and met you at the café every morning. After your begging, and a few threats, he yielded to the two of you alternating weeks of buying breakfast for each other. You chatted about weekend plans or what filled you with a sense of urgency. He took an interest in your work, and you grew confident enough to share full drafts with him, trusting him enough to give you notes and pushing you to make the next steps in your career.

Your days were structured the same, but the predictability of your life helped you grieve and become accustomed to your grandfather’s absence. You’d meet Nanami for breakfast and greet Eri, and she would walk you home after work, chat with you for a bit before she ventured off onto her wild dating life, entertaining some person who’d become enamored with her after only a few moments. There were no surprises, not a thing you couldn’t handle.

Your relationship with Nanami resembled the same one you’d had with him as a child: nurturing, encouraging, and it filled you with profound amounts of hope. You’d even started up your movie tradition again, though they were always at his penthouse since he had a large viewing room with plenty of cushions and blankets. You’d even invited Eri in on the movie nights, the three of you with blankets around your heads like small children (you joked more than once that you probably were behaving like Itadori and his friends during their sleepovers).

One particularly warm night, you and Nanami walked leisurely to the market square in the park, you slowly swaying from one foot to the other. The ambient lighting from the paper lamps strung from the trees shone brilliantly in your deep brown eyes, and you sighed. Nanami admired you silently, barely registering the phone ringing against his thigh, until you pulled it from his pocket and handed it to him, looking at the lamps again.

“Hi Yuuji…My day was okay, how was yours…sure, Kugisaki-kun and Fushiguro-kun can still stay over…the viewing room? I had plans for it tonight…” Nanami glanced at you, and you smiled with a wink that he registered as your flexibility, a ‘it’s okay, we can do something else’ look. “Go ahead…yes, Yuuji, I’m sure, go have fun…I’ll send a text if I’m home late…I left yen on the counter for you to order food…I will, goodnight Yuuji.”

You waved away his apologetic look, but the need to apologize still controlled his mouth.

“I’m sorry about that. It slipped my mind that they planned a sleepover this weekend.”

“It’s okay! Let the kids have their fun. We can also watch movies at my place, Nanamin.” He expected nothing less from you, but he was still flooded with relief. You bounded a few steps in front of him, looking over your shoulder. “Right now, I wanna see what these food trucks are about!”

Several food trucks had arranged themselves along the perimeter of the square, and your face lit up at the multitude of options before you, many offering Japanese dishes but a few specialized in Western cuisine. Your eyes grew wide, growing both overwhelmed and eager at the options before you. Nanami suggested you take a lap, and you did, gasping excitedly at each truck. You were bouncing on your toes excitedly when you turned to face him.

The plan was quite simple, and you agreed to it quickly: each of you would pick a cuisine to eat, retrieve them, and eat at a nearby table. Ever a creature of habit, Nanami chose to get takoyaki and yakitori, and you made a note to tease him later as he walked off, leaving you with a choice to make. He indicated no preference, but you still wanted him to like what you picked. You were deep in thought, face scrunched when someone sidled next to you.

“Back alr—” You turned but was met with a stranger and you let out a sound of surprise. “Oh. I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“Just wanted to make sure you were okay. You were thinking pretty hard.” You laughed halfheartedly, stretching your curls that hovered above your shoulders. He smirked; his hair was impossibly dark, and tousled in a way that was intentional, and he was tall, though not as tall as Nanami. Speaking of which, where is he? You spotted him across the square, speaking with the restauranteur of the Japanese truck.

“I was deciding what food to get, but I landed on French.” You gestured to the truck, and his upper half dipped in a low bow.

“Well, don’t let me keep you from it.” You walked towards it and examined the menu when he bumped into you, making you let out an oof.

“Oh, darling, I’m sorry.” You waved him off and turned back towards the menu. “Do you need any help?” You smiled and shook your head.

“Bonne soirée! What can I get for you?” The restauranteur leaned on the ledge, her thick accent eliciting a real smile from you.

“Bonne soirée! Can I have a croque monsieur and a croque madame?” You asked her in French, and her face lit up. (You ordered one of each because you weren’t sure whether Nanami preferred egg.) She turned to the cook, and you stepped to the side, searching for Nanami. The man next to you leaned against the truck, continuing to ask you harmless questions.

“Your name is quite unique.”

You laughed and shrugged. “I get that quite a bit.” You learned his name was Koshi, and all his comments directed towards you were low-pitched and witty, a few of them making you roll your eyes in amusement.

“Do people often flirt with you asking about your name?”

“Oh, I don’t know about flirting.” Before he could respond, your name was called for the order, and you kindly brushed off the other man’s courtly smile.

Nanami made his way towards you, his large arms steadying you when you tripped trying to follow the heavenly smell of the fried food he carried.  

The way your large eyes gleamed at him pulled every wisp of breath from his body. Nanami wanted to melt at the look on your face when you saw him; only you could have that effect on him. Even the other customers noticed; everyone did but you. He stood beside you and when you talked, the restauranteur garnered your attention again, asked if you’d like a dessert to which you nodded enthusiastically.

Nanami watched you order two mille-feuille and two of the pain au chocolat in French and gazed at your side profile as you peered at the menu again, muttering to yourself about wanting to try one of their sponge cakes, which he made a mental note of.

It was still quite warm for mid-September, and you wore a rusted orange dress, opting at the last minute to cover your arms with an oversized cream button-down that you waved in the night breeze. You perked up and leaned against the ledge of the truck, asked for something that he didn’t hear but the world around him ceased to make any noise when he heard your tinkling laugh and watched you throw your head back slightly to take in a deep breath. It was a sight he committed to memory, you laughing, the way your eyes would tear up and you’d laugh hysterically before you could even get a joke out.

The shuffling of wax paper snapped him back to the present moment as you rearranged the items of food in your arms. Nanami handed over his card too quickly for you to protest, so you stuffed the equivalent amount of yen in the tip jar before leading Nanami to a picnic table. He noticed the large, wrapped objects beneath your arm but you turned to him, already feeling him gearing up to ask.

“Baguettes. For you. I know you like the bread for breakfast or sandwiches, so now you’ll have some fresh!” You didn’t see the look on his face since you were kneeling on the bench, arranging the food, but he couldn’t stop his stomach from flipping as you hummed. You were ready to pounce on the food when he called your name.

“What would you say to taking all this home and eating while we watch movies?” He asked, and you looked up in thought before smiling at him, your hands drumming steadily on the table.

“Depends on the movies.”

“Well, I found these—” He pulled out a stick of dango so perfectly round that you gasped. “I’m feeling nostalgic, so I propose we have a full spread and a Ghibli double feature. Ponyo and Howl’s Moving Castle.”

You let out a full-blown yell, screaming ‘Well, what are we waiting for?!’  as you clambered out of the picnic table and scooped up the food, running towards his car. Nanami laughed and soon caught up to you, taking some of the food from your arms. Once in the car, he patted your head affectionately while you wiggled in the front seat, humming joyfully with your eyes closed.

“Your French is still very good.” He said quietly in French, and you popped an eye open to look at him.

“Darling, why would it be bad?” You said with a dramatic flourish of your hand.

He chuckled and you thanked him before he turned up the radio, and you sang along to the pop station until he pulled into the parking space. The joking term of endearment made his skin prickle, and a part of him wished there was a bit of old meaning behind it. Nanami watched you sing under your breath as you led him into the apartment. You trudged into your room, throwing off your clothes and slipping on a tank top and pulling out a spare set of his clothes. Nanami pulled out plates and bowls, carefully arranging the food until you emerged. You placed the set into his hands when they were empty and opened the hall closet, lugging out a large pile of blankets and let out small groans until you tossed them on the floor.

While you rearranged the living room, Nanami carried the clothes to your bedroom, changing into the shirt and shorts quickly, and you were squatting in front of the flat screen when he returned, mumbling as you connected the computer to stream the first movie. Your pajama tank rose up when you stretched, and much to your thanks and Nanami’s, you wore shorts, but they were short enough that he saw your small tattoo of Calcifer on your side, which would be hidden by the waistband unless someone were in the position that he was in now. He couldn’t deny it, it was fairly on brand for you, and quite adorable, but he still snorted, and you turned over your shoulder, asking a question with your eyebrows, to which he shook his head.

The movie was queued and the spread in front of you made your mouth water, and you thanked Nanami once more.

Nanami enjoyed watching your reactions, your watery eyes, your shuddering breath. But really, he loved how earnest you were, your unwavering beliefs in the prevailing nature of love. It was endearing, your charm.

When they ended, silence filled the room, as it always did after your revived movie nights. They used to end in him falling asleep, but now, for some reason, you felt exposed while meeting his gaze, streaks of tears drying on your cheeks, a few causing your thick, dark lashes to clump together. He helped you clean up, washing the dishes and folding the pile of blankets. He looked down at his pajamas, ones he’d recently leant you, and was unsure of what to do.

He cleared his throat, trying not to avert his gaze.

“Thanks for an awesome night, Nanamin.” You folded your arms behind your back. “Want the rest of the food?” He shook his head, but you pushed. “At least take some of the dessert, Itadori will like them.”

“Okay, I will.” He moved towards the door, stretching out his goodbye and your heart wrenched seeing him move closer to the door. It was almost like you could feel him slipping away again

“Stay!” You blurted out, and he turned to you, his hand lowering from the doorknob. “It’s late, and I’m sure Itadori and his friends are still awake, so…just stay here? Please?” You meant to sound more convicted, but it came out tentative, full of worry.

“If that’s okay with you.” The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, but you smiled, melting the tension in the room. “I’ll take the—”

You grabbed his hand and pulled him to your bedroom, grabbing an extra toothbrush and towel for him. “I’ve peed in front of you before. We can sleep in the same bed for a night.”

A few moments later, you laid on opposite sides of the bed, staring at each other, your eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. You reached across the bed, moving closer to him and patting the sheets beside you.

“What, are you afraid to touch me?” You teased and he shook his head, pulling your head into his chest. You breathed him in deeply, the spices filling your nostrils and you groaned, bunching the fabric in your hands like paws in your face.

Nanami watched you settle, curling up into him as your breathing steadied and your body became dead weight. You adjusted, releasing small grunts, and Nanami smiled, his arms wound around you and rubbing your back. It should have frightened him how easily you were able to nestle back into his heart again and make him feel like a teenager again, but it excited him to be near you. He hadn’t held you close in so long, and you scooted closer, mumbling something in your sleep, and he was relieved. As he drifted off to sleep, he’d only wished that he was able to do it sooner.

 

A rumble rolled down your spine, pulling you from a deep dream, and you groaned, peeling your eyes open. Nanami let out a low groan behind you, hugging you tightly against him, and it took you a moment to realize that he was in your bed, holding you so close to him, his lips brushing against your neck. Ever a slow riser, it took you another moment to register his slow movements, grinding against your ass, his hips pushing his hardened dick against you. You wiggled, releasing small grunts as you flipped over, trying not to wake him, and gasped at the expression on his face. His forehead wrinkled and he bit his lip, grunting until you lifted your leg, and he pressed into you harder, and he moaned your name, which sent a pulse straight between your legs, the warmth between them already intensifying.

You patted his clammy face, calling his name gently and he blinked, waking up to see himself pressed between your legs, his hands on your back. You caressed his face, smoothing his hair back.

“Good dream?” You asked with a giggle, trying to lessen the shock he’d wake up to, and he turned his face away, burying it in the pillow. He’d usually been able to quell his desires, controlling his urges like the adult he was meant to be, but here he was, humping against you in his sleep like a hormone-crazed teenager. He let go of you and moved away, putting a foot of space between the two of you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that or make you uncomfortable. I’m very sorry, Y/n.” Nanami laid on his back, covering his face in his hands.

“Hey, Nanamin?” He couldn’t bring himself to look in the direction of your gentle voice. You tilted his face towards you, fingers delicate on his warm cheeks. His eyes were shut tightly, and you almost wished you’d just let him sleep.

“Kento. Will you look at me? Please?” You thumbed his eyelids and cheekbones, watching the dirty blonde eyelashes flutter. Your touch put him at ease but did nothing to minimize his shame. He opened his eyes, and you bit your lip, putting his arm around your waist again. A part of you wanted to know the details of the dream, but there was always the chance that it wasn’t about you, which was a bit of a blow to your ego. In any case, you could always chalk it up to a middle of the night conversation, unsure of whether it happened or was a dream.

“Let’s go back to sleep.” You said quietly, slightly in defeat, but you smiled softly, patting his head.

Your eyes blinked slowly, as did his, and you nuzzled into the forearm beneath you, rubbing your cheek on his bicep to get comfortable. Nanami lifted his hand apprehensively, carefully putting it on your cheek and burying his fingers in your thick hair. He was running out of time; your shallow breaths deepened as his warmth surrounded you and murmured your ‘goodnight’.

“It was about you.” He whispered, and you hummed sleepily, rubbing your eyes.

“Did you say something Kento?”

“The dream was about you.” You squinted, looking up at him. His thumb brushed across your cheek as his words registered, and you squeaked, realizing your legs were tangled with his, you were pressed against his chest and wrapped in his embrace. You wanted to say something, anything, to him, and he noticed your lack of words, your disbelief. It was your turn to look away, and you felt his nose on your cheek when he whispered your name.

“You’re stunning, Y/n.”

He kissed the warm skin under your jaw, and you gasped quietly, his lips dragging to the corner of your mouth. Without a word, Nanami tilted your face towards him, sparks bursting behind your eyes when he kissed you, his warm hand traveling down your arm to hold your hand. He pressed your clasped hands into the bed, his upper half over you, and he left small kisses on your cheek.

“W-why’d you say that?” You gasped, and he chuckled, sliding his arm from beneath you, encircling your head and twirling your hair.

“Because you are, sweetheart. You’re gorgeous.”

To your dismay, and his amusement, you let out a squeal that made you feel miniscule beneath him. You weren’t sure if it was the sleepy haze that filled the bedroom, but the pet name was enough to make you tremble. He called me ‘sweetheart’ and I folded. But even in the pitch-black darkness of the room, Nanami appeared clearly above you, and you traced the planes of his angular face with your free hand.

“God, Kento, you’re beautiful.”

There was not a sound in the room as stares passed between the two of you, even your breathing silent. There was a flimsy line you anxiously wanted to cross with each other again, regardless of the complexity. You wanted the messiness, the entanglement, to wake up in the morning with no sense of direction and a healthy dose of teenage awkwardness. Neither of you were very sure of the future, especially when it came to the other, but fuck it.

You moved your hand to his wrist and slowly brought it to your chest, breathing shakily as you laid beneath him, nodding at him. Nanami descended on your mouth again, his thumb rubbing your nipple over the fabric of your tank top. He tugged your bottom lip into his mouth, grinding against your hip and you moaned. He pulled the neckline down, your large breasts bouncing out, and tweaked your nipples with the rough pads of his fingers. You clenched your thick thighs together, moaning softly at his mouth nipping down your neck.

Nanami savored the sweet moans pouring from your plump lips, especially when they increased, and your dark nipples hardened more beneath the brushes of his tongue. He let out small grunts as he humped your thigh until your hand fumbled, trying to find his crotch, and when you did, he groaned into your neck. Your body spasmed beneath him when he bit down, and you moved his hand to the waistband of your shorts. He indulged your begging, using two fingers to massage your drenched clit while he laid next to you, kissing your face.

“Kento, please. I n-need to t-touch you.” Your hand plunged into his underwear and withdrew him, using your own juices and his to stroke him. Nanami breathed heavily in your ear, and you moaned. You spread your legs wider and his fingers moved faster, his hips thrusting into your hand. When you tugged on his dick faster, he swore and turned towards the ceiling, to which you turned into him, whining into his ear as you licked it.

“S-sweetheart, you keep doing that, I’m gonna cum.” He groaned, twitching in your hot palm.

“Good.” You bit his neck and he groaned, spilling over your hand while his thrusts slowed, and when he sighed, you licked your hand, sucking each of your fingers clean. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, and he pulled you into his side, swirling around your clit again. Nanami enjoyed watched you tremble and pant, anchoring yourself with one hand in the sheets and the other gripping his thigh. Even with your wiggling hips, he kept up with your movements, only teasing you slightly as he played with your clit relentlessly. Nanami whispered sweetness in your ear, licking the skin beneath it, and nibbling on your pulse.

“N-Nanamin—”

“Say my name, angel.” You shivered, pulling on the sheets. “Say it.”

“Kento, I’m cumming!” He chuckled, toying with your clit while you shook, your back arching off the bed.

When you caught your breath, the air stilled, and you felt him by your side again. For a moment, the two of stewed in awkwardness, unsure of what to do but not bothering to cover yourselves up again. Nanami was already gazing at you when you turned, and a frustrated sigh escaped his lips. He didn’t possibly know what to say to you, and even though he’d enjoyed every moment with you, he still felt the need to apologize or work through the thoughts in his head. He’d opened his mouth to speak when your far hand floated over to hold his face, your thumb pressed against his parted lips.

“Not tonight. Just lie here with me, please.” He gave a slight nod and kissed your thumb.

You shyly pulled your top up and scampered to the bathroom, washing yourself and changing before bringing a wet, warm cloth to Nanami. He was quiet as he watched you, your hands cleaning his, and the small gulp you did when cleaning his stomach and softened length before tucking it gently back into his pants. You returned to your side embarrassed, facing away from him, and the bed shifted as he moved closer to you, his impossibly strong arm tugging you backwards. He kissed your shoulders and upper back tenderly, and again with feeling, which prompted you to turn over and kiss him softly before burying your face in his chest once more.

You hadn’t expected Nanami to be in bed when the sun pulled you from a deep sleep, but you had thought that he’d at least be around to greet you. The early morning light washed over the apartment, and the overwhelming silence made you feel small, and you nibbled on your nails. It looked to be a slow morning, a gloomy Saturday where you’d probably lounge in pajamas for the day and read since you were gifted with time. You detangled your hair, carefully working through the knots and parting it down the middle, where you pulled the curls into twists so slowly and carefully that your shoulders ached.

A small tent of paper was propped on the counter when you finally reached the kitchen, and Nanami’s handwriting looked crowded, almost as if he was in a rush to write the note.  

 

Had an emergency with Itadori. I’ll call you soon.

 

You’d barely been able to think about what kind of emergency when the doorbell rang, and a nervous thin man with limp black hair and sunken cheeks stood at your door, holding a paper bag. You gave him a gentle smile.

“Are you Maeda-san?” You nodded and he held out the bag, the scent of food gently tickling your noise.

“You may have the wrong place, I haven’t ordered—”

“I’ve been sent on an errand from Nanami-san.” You let out a small grunt of surprise. “He extends his deepest apologies, and hopes you’ll forgive him.”

He bowed quickly and deeply, leaving you cradling the warm bag in your arms as he walked briskly down the terrace. You blinked slowly before you called after him, stepping into the cool air in your thin pajamas and frantically waving him back to your door.

“I know it’s none of my business, but…what was the emergency? Is Itadori-kun okay?” Much to your surprise, your eyes filled with tears and the paper bag crinkled beneath your clutches.

“Just had an incident this morning at the apartment. He should be okay, but Nanami-san took him to the hospital for a check-up.” You exhaled shakily, nodding more to yourself before looking at the man once more.

“Thank you…” Your face dropped, realizing you didn’t even know who he was. “I’m so sorry, I haven’t even asked your name.”

“Ijichi. I’m an assistant for Nanami-san.”

You hugged the paper bag closer to your chest and bowed, thanking him once more before stepping inside your apartment and dusting off your feet. You hadn’t even questioned the contents of the bag, but the crispy potatoes, bacon, and fried eggs brought a gentle smile to your face (you’d always complained about Ghibli food looking much more appetizing than actual food, and he’d always prepare a breakfast to rival any of them the morning after you’d watch a Ghibli movie).

You were sat on the floor after devouring your breakfast, half-lounging as you watched a movie on Netflix, awaiting an appropriate hour to begin cleaning when your phone rang. Your free hand turned down the volume while you balanced the device between your ear and shoulder.

“Moshimoshi.” You drawled with a yawn, your voice in its lower register from lack of use.

“Hi.” The hairs on your skin stood as if they were called to attention, and you froze.

“…Hi.” It was delicate leaving your mouth; if your voice had any shape, it would still be transparent, showing the nervousness you felt, especially when he sighed.

“I’m sorry.” There was a beat. “Yuuji set his arm on fire while making breakfast, and then Nobara gave him a concussion trying to put it out. The apartment was in a state of absolute chaos when I arrived.” He sighed and you could almost hear him rubbing his forehead.

“I’m gonna guess that Megumi called you?” He hummed and you chuckled, lying flat on the floor. “Is he okay now?”

“A few very minor burns and mild concussion later. Megumi’s watching him, though he doesn’t mind the attention.” It was a relief to know Itadori was okay, but teenagers were resilient. If anything, Nanami was sure they’d done things to warrant much more harm, and this was just the first time he’d been roped into it.

“Whatever you do, just make sure you still let them have sleepovers.” You said, struggling to tug a blanket off the couch. After a moment, you just hoisted yourself up and curled up beneath it on the furniture itself. It was a welcome change from the floor.

Nanami leaned back in the driver’s seat, a tired smile etching itself on his face as he listened to the tiny grunts you subconsciously let slip past your lips as you shifted. It was barely 8am, and he knew you could sleep for at least another two hours before beginning your day in earnest. He assured you he’d let them continue their own traditions, after well-needed fire safety talks, and savored your sleepy giggles. Even as they subsided into a sigh and became gentle air gliding through your nostrils, he didn’t find himself grasping for words, trying to extend the phone call. He’d never felt the need to pretend to be more vocal or talkative than he was because you knew him. Just like he knew you. Silence with you imprinted on his heart more than full-length conversations with most people. It took a special person to make you feel their presence even through a collection of wires and metal.

You were the first to speak after a while.

“I don’t have anything to forgive you for, Kento. There is a child dependent on you. You did the right thing, going to him without hesitation.” A chill passed over you. “Unless…that’s not the thing you’re apologizing for?”

“I’m asking you to forgive me for letting you wake up alone. I’m not sorry about last night, if that’s what you’re asking.” He glanced out the window, up at your door on the second level of the building. “Are you sorry?”

“No.” It came out as a whisper.

“Can I come upstairs?” He heard you open your mouth to speak and closed the car door in response. The phone clicked in his ear and before he could knock, you dramatically invited him in.

“Two men at my door in one morning? My neighbors will think I’m much more interesting.”

He laughed at your little quip and looked at you, the blanket draped over your shoulders. Nanami didn’t often remember you were much shorter than him, but then, barefoot in front of him, shifting from foot to foot as he sat on the couch, he did.

To everyone else, you were sure of yourself, confident. You had a clear sense of identity and a direction to run. Sometimes it played in your favor, not having your decisions questioned; you were a shaking mess internally, so insecure that it was easier to pretend that nothing could stand in your way. Even when you’d smile at him, Nanami could see the edges of your mouth quiver. When you were younger, you would try to squirm your way out of his hugs only to let out a watery sigh and let yourself cry softly against him.

Nanami recognized the look in your eyes and bringing your nails up to your mouth—it was the main tell when you were anxious. You were silently communicating ‘we don’t have to talk about it’ and keeping a few feet between the two of you, not able to meet his eyes. It was like you were begging him not to break your heart.

“What, are you afraid to touch me now?” You rolled your eyes at his outstretched hand, but you took it, letting Nanami pull you into him slowly, looking up at you while you stood between his knees.

“I…I don’t know what to say.” You took a step around him and knelt on the couch, hugging the blanket closer and looking at him with wet eyes.

Often you wondered what happened to being brave, and at first, you considered it to be teenage invincibility, wanting to conquer the world. But really, you were learning how to be vulnerable, and that vulnerability and bravery were not mutually exclusive, but informed each other. There were a lot of reasons to be afraid, to be less brave, to become a whimper rather than a bang.

But when his hand rested on the nape of your neck, you crawled closer to him, leaving your blanket shroud in a ball. His touch on the small of your back sent a thrill up your spine, a gasp slipping out of your mouth when he kissed your cheek.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You murmured into his ear, and his hair tickled your cheek as he nodded. “I need you to look at me, Nanamin.”

“I’m sure, Y/n.” You shivered at the rumble in your ear, and he tilted his head when he looked at you, fingers pressing into your back.

You swung yourself into his lap and kissed him, butterflies rioting in your stomach as the sparks burst behind your eyes again, and you were relieved to know you hadn’t imagined your feelings. And that you hadn’t imagined his.

He gripped your hip and kissed along your jawline into the soft flesh of your throat, quiet groans pressing into your skin, and you pulled him closer to you. His teeth leaving marks on your skin pulled quiet moans from your throat, and you squirmed in his lap. Nanami snaked his hands beneath your shirt and pinched your nipples, and you jerked in his lap, making him groan.

“Sweetheart, you’re so pretty.” Your clothes were strewn to the floor and his mouth replaced his fingers, moans steadily pouring from you as you pulsed on top of him. His hands rested on your hips, thumbs beneath the waistband of your panties as you rolled your hips on his, dragging yourself along his length. Nanami palmed your ass and moved you faster; when you kissed and sucked on his neck, he groaned.

“I like when you call me that.” You whispered and tugged on his ear, panting when he squeezed you tighter. You ran your hands on his chest, licking his shoulders, and he groaned loudly. “And I really like hearing you.”

“You f-feel so good.” He moaned into your neck, and you moaned, pressing your forehead against his. “You’ve been driving me crazy.”

Your moans were silenced by urgent kisses, and he moved you faster, a familiar warmth building in your lower half that was gonna crash into you fast based on how he thrusted up against you.

“Nanamin—”

“Say my name, sweetheart.” He said into your mouth as he pulled you down harder, rubbing hard against your slit. You whimpered and your fingers dug into his shoulders. “Say it, baby, say it.”

“Fuck, Kento—” You moaned, and he held your hips in place. You whined. “Wha—why’d you stop?”

He pushed you away from him slightly and opened his legs so the back of your knees hooked on his thighs, your bottom bouncing on air. Nanami slid his fingers inside of you, pumping into you and smiled at you throwing your head back and clutching his legs.

“You’re just beautiful, you know that?” You pushed your hips against his hand, growling as his thumb circled your clit. He watched your chest heave, soft curses leaving your mouth, as you writhed and chewed on your lower lip until it was swollen.

“Can I touch you, Kento?”

You were breathless, your eyes shiny as you met his gaze, your cheeks deeply flushed and words slurring out as you tried to speak through the pleasure exploding between your legs. He nodded and you leaned forward, kissing him as you stroked him slowly.

Nanami groaned and you cupped his cheek, watching the heat flood his face at you looking at him so closely. He tried to turn away from him and you kissed him softly.

“Can you look at me?” His eyes flashed to yours and he twitched in your hand, your soft moans and warm hand bringing him along. He was thrusting into your hand, and you licked his lower lip with the tip of your tongue. Nanami massaged your clit quickly, his fingers reaching deep inside of you, the flutter of your orgasm approaching and with your hand twisting fast around him, it was a race to see who would make who finish first.

“Why don’t you cum for me, sweetheart?” Nanami drawled, and you nodded quickly, whimpering as you clenched around his fingers. You tilted your head back, but he grabbed your chin to bring you back to him. “Don’t look away. I want to watch you cum, angel.”

You gasped and tried to close your legs as you came, but you were still held aloft on his thighs, so you rode out your orgasm on Nanami’s hand as he rubbed your thigh. You were still twitching from the aftershocks when he withdrew from between your legs, and you thumbed his slit slowly, making him groan. His lower stomach clenched, and he kissed the hand that held his cheek while your tongue swirled from his ear to his shoulder. Every kiss you planted on him was a shock to his nerves, and his hips lifted to meet your hand as your mouth wandered, whispering soft praises into his throat and he groaned loudly when you massaged his balls with your other hand.

His eyes met yours when he pulled away and you could tell he was close; his breathing quickened, and he clutched your hips tightly, his thumbs pressing through the flesh to your bone. Your mouth parted slightly as he took a deep breath and shook, finishing on your hand and his abs, jolting when your fingers grazed his throbbing tip.

The air was charged as you slowly realized you were sat on his lap, naked except for your underwear. Really, it meant that you were fully exposed in front of him, and he massaged your sides. He pulled you closer, kissing your shoulder, and you grabbed the blanket to cover yourself in it once more.

“You don’t have to hide from me.” His voice was soft, loving, and he massaged your soft belly with his thumbs as his eyes met yours. Looking at him in that moment was perhaps one of the hardest things you’d ever done; the night before hadn’t ended any different, but you had the cover of darkness to hide you, and sleep to return to. In the morning light, it made you feel self-conscious, embarrassed, and he saw it all flash across your face as you were unable to hold his gaze. So, he cradled your face until you turned to him again, and he laid a long, soft kiss on your lips, his fingers pressing into your hip beneath the band of your underwear. When you leaned into him, a hand stroking the back of his head, whispering his name in the seconds when you came up for air, Nanami resigned himself to never letting you go. He didn’t ever want to have to reach into the depths of his mind for memories of how your lips felt, the incoherent ramblings you let out in the middle of the night. You’d left him once before and he hadn’t had any choice in the matter, but now that you were back in his life, embracing him, he silently made a promise to love you as much as he possibly could. He wasn’t going to let you slip away, not ever again.