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tulitulii · 6 months ago

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Sunset Kisses

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Chapter 7.

The words “meet me halfway” hung in the air, carrying with them a sense of cautious possibility. Nanami studied your face, his eyes softening at the sight of your tears. It pained him to see you like this, and for once, he realized how deeply his fear and hesitation had affected you.

“I’ll do better,” he said, his voice steady but laced with quiet conviction. “I don’t have all the answers right now, but I’ll figure it out. For you. For us.”

The vulnerability in his tone softened something in you. You didn’t respond immediately, but the tension in your shoulders loosened just a little. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that he could overcome the walls he’d built around himself.

“Okay,” you whispered. “But it’s not just about saying it, Nanami. I need to see it.”

“You will,” he said, and for the first time in days, there was no hesitation in his voice.

The two of you stood there for a while longer, the silence no longer oppressive but tentative, like the first steps on a fragile bridge.

Nanami motioned toward the bench. “Do you want to sit for a bit?”

You nodded, and he waited for you to take a seat first before settling down beside you. There was a comfortable distance between you, but his presence felt grounding.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The sound of birds chirping and the distant laughter of children playing filled the quiet. Slowly, the tight knot in your chest began to ease.

Nanami finally broke the silence, his voice soft. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since last night. About us. About what I’ve done wrong.”

You glanced at him, your brows knitting together. “You didn’t do everything wrong, Nanami.”

He gave a small, rueful smile. “Maybe not, but I know I’ve hurt you. And I hate that.”

You let out a slow breath. “It’s not just you, though. I’ve been… putting a lot of pressure on myself too. Like I had to prove something. To you, to myself. I don’t know.”

Nanami turned to you, his gaze steady. “You don’t have to prove anything to me. You’re more than enough as you are.”

The sincerity in his words took you by surprise, and you felt a fresh wave of emotion welling up in your chest.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, your voice thick with unshed tears.

Nanami hesitated for a moment before reaching out, his hand hovering near yours. When you didn’t pull away, he gently took your hand in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“I’m not good at this,” he admitted, his voice low. “At opening up. At being vulnerable. But I want to try. Because you’re worth it.”

His words wrapped around your heart, warming the parts of you that had been aching for reassurance. You gave his hand a small squeeze, your lips curving into a faint smile.

“I don’t need you to be perfect, Nanami,” you said. “I just need you to try.”

“I will,” he promised, his voice steady. “Starting now.”

After a few more minutes of quiet conversation, the two of you decided to head back to the flower shop. Nanami offered to walk with you, and you didn’t hesitate to accept.

The walk was quiet but peaceful, the earlier tension replaced with a tentative sense of ease. As you approached the shop, Nanami glanced at you, his expression thoughtful.

“Do you need help finishing up for the day?” he asked.

You smiled softly. “I wouldn’t say no to some extra hands.”

He nodded, his lips twitching into a small smile. “Then consider me hired.”

Back in the shop, the atmosphere felt lighter. Nanami rolled up his sleeves and dove into helping with whatever you needed, from arranging bouquets to tidying up the shelves. His presence was steady and grounding, and you found yourself smiling more than you had in days.

At one point, as the two of you worked side by side, your hand brushed his. The brief contact sent a pleasant warmth coursing through you, and when you glanced at him, he was already looking at you.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

“For what?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“For being here,” you said. “For trying.”

His expression softened, and he gave you a small nod. “Always.”

As the day wound down, you found yourself looking forward to spending more time with Nanami. The earlier tension had given way to a tentative sense of hope, and you wanted to hold onto it for as long as possible.

When the last customer of the day left, you turned to Nanami with a smile. “Are you hungry? I could make us something at my place.”

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes searching yours. Then he nodded. “That sounds nice.”

Back at your apartment, the atmosphere was warm and inviting. You moved around the kitchen with ease, and Nanami offered to help, but you waved him off, insisting that he relax.

As you cooked, the two of you talked about everything and nothing. The conversation flowed naturally, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt completely at ease.

When the food was ready, you both sat down at the table, the soft glow of the overhead light casting a cozy warmth over the room.

“This is amazing,” Nanami said after taking his first bite, his tone sincere.

You smiled, your cheeks warming at the compliment. “I’m glad you like it.”

After dinner, the two of you moved to the couch, the comfortable silence between you punctuated by the occasional hum of the city outside.

Nanami turned to you, his expression thoughtful. “I meant what I said earlier. I’m going to do better. For us.”

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “I believe you,” you said softly. “And I’m here too. For you.”

The look in his eyes was one of quiet gratitude, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were truly on the same page.

As the evening wore on, the conversation turned lighter, filled with laughter and shared stories. The earlier angst and tension felt like a distant memory, replaced with a sense of comfort and connection.

When it was time for Nanami to leave, he hesitated at the door, his hand lingering on the doorknob.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked, his tone hopeful.

You smiled. “I’d like that.”

He gave you a small nod before leaning in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Goodnight,” he said softly.

“Goodnight,” you replied, your heart feeling lighter than it had in days.

As you closed the door behind him, you leaned against it, a small smile playing on your lips. Things weren’t perfect, but they didn’t have to be. What mattered was that you were both trying, both willing to put in the effort to make this work.

And for now, that was enough.

The sunlight poured through your window, warming the room and gently pulling you from your sleep. Stretching, you felt an unfamiliar lightness in your chest. For the first time in days, you weren’t waking up with the weight of uncertainty bearing down on you.

Memories of the night before replayed in your mind—the honest conversation, the shared smiles, the warmth of Nanami’s forehead kiss. A soft smile graced your lips. It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress.

After freshening up, you made your way to the kitchen, your thoughts already on the day ahead. You wondered if Nanami would stop by the shop again. Would he bring coffee? Maybe stay to help like yesterday? The thought sent a warm flutter through your chest, and you shook your head with a soft laugh.

“Get it together,” you muttered to yourself, grabbing a mug for your morning tea.

Still, you couldn’t help but let yourself feel hopeful.

The flower shop opened with its usual routine—watering the plants, setting up displays, and arranging the fresh flowers that had been delivered that morning. You worked diligently, grateful for the distraction.

The steady hum of customers came and went, their smiles and chatter a comforting backdrop. Yet, every time the doorbell chimed, you found yourself glancing up with anticipation, only to feel a pang of disappointment when it wasn’t Nanami.

As the day wore on, the flutter of hope in your chest began to quiet. You tried to shake it off, focusing instead on the arrangements in front of you, but a lingering sense of doubt crept in.

Was he really going to try? Or were his words just temporary comfort, something he said in the heat of the moment?

Nanami couldn’t shake it off.. not one bit..

Nanami sat at his desk, his mind far from the spreadsheets and documents in front of him. He had barely slept the night before, his thoughts consumed by the events of the past week.

He thought about the way you had looked at him, the hurt in your eyes, the way you had pleaded for honesty and effort.

He wanted to do better—for you, for the relationship—but the weight of his own fears and doubts loomed large. He hated how easily they clouded his judgment, how they whispered lies about not being enough for you.

Nanami leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair.

“Focus,” he muttered to himself, though his heart wasn’t in it.

By midday, he knew he couldn’t sit still any longer. Grabbing his coat, he decided to head to the flower shop. Maybe seeing you would clear his mind.

The familiar scent of fresh blooms greeted Nanami as he stepped into the shop. His eyes scanned the room, his heart giving a slight tug when he didn’t see you immediately.

“Hey, Nanami!” one of your employees greeted him with a smile. “She’s in the back. Should I let her know you’re here?”

Nanami hesitated. Something in the tone of your employee’s voice told him that you might not be ready to see him.

“It’s fine. I’ll wait,” he said, stepping aside to let another customer through.

Meanwhile, you stood in the back, your hands trembling slightly as you arranged an order. You had heard the front door chime and recognized Nanami’s voice as he spoke to your employee.

Your heart raced. You wanted to see him, but at the same time, you couldn’t bring yourself to face him. Doubt gnawed at you, whispering that you had pushed too hard, that you were too much.

What if he regretted everything he’d said last night? What if seeing you now only made him realize how difficult you were to be with?

You let out a shaky breath, clutching the counter for support.

“Get it together,” you whispered to yourself, though the words felt hollow.

After a few minutes of waiting, Nanami frowned. He didn’t like the feeling of you avoiding him. He knew you were in the back, and something told him that you weren’t coming out anytime soon.

He sighed, running a hand down his face. Part of him wanted to give you space, to respect whatever emotions you were processing. But another part of him—stronger, louder—refused to leave things unresolved.

Nanami made his way to the back, his footsteps purposeful yet quiet. He found you hunched over a worktable, your back to him.

“Are you avoiding me?” he asked gently, his voice breaking the stillness.

You froze, your hands gripping the edge of the table.

“I’m not—” you started, but the words died in your throat.

Nanami stepped closer, his presence steady but not overbearing. “You don’t have to hide from me,” he said softly.

“I’m not hiding,” you said, though the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you.

Nanami sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “Then look at me.”

You turned slowly, your eyes meeting his. The vulnerability in his gaze caught you off guard, and you felt your walls start to crumble.

“I just… I didn’t know if you wanted to see me,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Nanami’s brows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I want to see you?”

“Because I’m a mess,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “Because I feel like I’m the reason things got so complicated. Like I rushed you, and now you’re second-guessing everything.”

Nanami stepped forward, closing the distance between you. “You’re not the reason things got complicated,” he said firmly. “I am. And I hate that you’ve been carrying this by yourself.”

Your eyes filled with tears, but you blinked them away, not wanting to cry again. “I just don’t want to lose you, Nanami.”

“You won’t,” he said, his voice steady. “But we need to be honest with each other. No more hiding. No more avoiding.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay.”

Nanami reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch was soft, reassuring.

“We’re going to figure this out,” he said. “Together.”

His words felt like a balm to your wounded heart, and for the first time in days, you allowed yourself to believe them.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice barely audible.

“Me too,” Nanami said, surprising you with his honesty. “But I’m more scared of losing you than anything else.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and Nanami caught it with his thumb, his touch lingering.

“We’ll take this one step at a time,” he said. “No rushing, no pressure. Just us.”

The two of you stood there for a while, the tension slowly giving way to something softer, more hopeful.

Nanami eventually pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around you in a way that made you feel safe.

“I’ll be here,” he murmured against your hair. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

You clung to him, letting his words sink in.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you both felt a sense of peace. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start. And for now, that was enough.

The bell above the shop door chimed faintly, the sound barely echoing in the quiet space. It was one of those slower days, the kind you almost craved after the chaos of the past few weeks. The steady rhythm of the shop’s usual bustle had been replaced with a peaceful lull, the kind of quiet that allowed you to catch your breath.

You stood near the counter, arranging the centerpiece for a small table that sat in the shop’s cozy seating area. A bundle of fresh white tulips lay in your hands, their soft petals delicate against your fingertips. You smiled as you placed them carefully in the vase, fluffing their arrangement until they sat just right.

Nanami watched you from across the room, his jacket slung over the back of his chair. He wasn’t pretending to busy himself this time; he was simply watching you. There was something calming about the way you moved, your hands sure and gentle as you worked. He noted how the warm light of the shop softened your features, casting an almost ethereal glow over you.

When you finally glanced up and caught his gaze, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Are you just going to sit there staring, or do you want to help?” you teased, your voice light and playful.

Nanami chuckled, shaking his head. “You seem to have it under control.”

With the tulips arranged to your liking, you stepped back to admire your work. The table looked inviting, the soft glow of the shop lights bouncing off the clean glass of the vase. Satisfied, you turned to Nanami.

“Come on,” you said, gesturing toward the table. “Let’s sit for a bit.”

He raised an eyebrow, momentarily surprised by the suggestion, but quickly pushed himself up from his chair. He followed you to the table, his movements purposeful yet unhurried.

As you both settled into the chairs, the atmosphere felt oddly intimate. The shop’s soft background music played a gentle melody, and the scent of fresh flowers mingled in the air, adding to the tranquility of the moment. Outside, the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden hue over everything it touched.

For a while, neither of you spoke. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, though. It was the kind of quiet that allowed your thoughts to settle, the kind that made you feel present in the moment.

Finally, Nanami leaned back slightly, his gaze drifting toward the white tulips between you. “You have a way with these,” he said, nodding toward the centerpiece.

You laughed softly, brushing a stray petal off the table. “It’s part of the job. But thank you.”

He hummed in agreement, his eyes returning to you. “It’s peaceful here.”

You nodded, your fingers tracing the edge of the table absentmindedly. “It’s part of why I love it so much. Even on busy days, there’s something calming about being surrounded by flowers. It’s like they remind me to breathe.”

Nanami studied you for a moment, noting the way your shoulders seemed more relaxed than they had in days. “You look like you’re breathing easier today,” he observed.

Your lips quirked into a small smile. “I think I am.”

The mood shifted slightly, the weight of unspoken thoughts settling between you. Nanami cleared his throat, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

You glanced up at him, your heart giving a small, nervous flutter. “Of course.”

He hesitated, his fingers tracing the grain of the wooden table. “I don’t want to keep brushing things under the rug,” he began. “Not after everything we’ve been through this week.”

You nodded slowly, sensing the sincerity in his tone. “I don’t either,” you said.

For the next few minutes, the two of you shared your thoughts and feelings, laying everything bare. You talked about the miscommunications, the moments of doubt, and the fears that had bubbled to the surface.

“I think I’ve spent too much time in my head,” Nanami admitted. “Overanalyzing everything, second-guessing myself. And in doing that, I’ve been unfair to you.”

“I’ve done my fair share of overthinking too,” you said, your voice tinged with regret. “I kept wondering if I was pushing you too hard, if I was the reason things felt… off.”

Nanami shook his head. “You weren’t. If anything, you were patient with me when I didn’t deserve it.”

As the conversation continued, the topic shifted to what you both needed moving forward—what would make the relationship work.

“I need honesty,” you said, your voice steady despite the vulnerability in your words. “Even if it’s uncomfortable. Even if you think it might hurt me. I’d rather know what you’re feeling than be left guessing.”

Nanami nodded, taking your words to heart. “I can do that. And I need the same from you. No holding back, even if you’re afraid of how I’ll react.”

“Deal,” you said, offering him a small smile.

“And,” he added, his tone thoughtful, “I need to take things at a pace that feels right for both of us. No more rushing. No more pressure. Just… letting things happen naturally.”

You nodded in agreement. “That’s fair. I want that too.”

At some point, the conversation took a more personal turn. Nanami hesitated briefly before broaching the subject of his past.

“I haven’t always been this… reserved,” he said, a faint trace of humor in his voice.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh?”

He chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “There was a time when I wasn’t exactly the most thoughtful person. I had a phase—a hookup phase, I guess you could call it.”

You blinked, surprised by his candor. “Really?”

He nodded, a hint of a sheepish smile playing on his lips. “It wasn’t anything I’m particularly proud of. It was… a way to distract myself. To avoid dealing with my own feelings.”

You considered his words, appreciating his honesty. “I think everyone has something like that in their past,” you said. “Mine was a failed talking stage. Thought it was going somewhere until I found out he had a girlfriend on the side.”

Nanami’s expression darkened slightly, a protective edge creeping into his tone. “He didn’t deserve you.”

You laughed softly, touched by his reaction. “I realized that pretty quickly. Ended things before it got messy.”

As the conversation wound down, you both found yourselves glancing toward the front window. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, painting the horizon in hues of pink, orange, and gold.

The light filtered through the shop, casting a warm glow over everything it touched. When Nanami looked back at you, his breath caught in his throat.

The colors of the sunset danced across your features, enhancing the curve of your cheek, the sparkle in your eyes, and the soft smile on your lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Your cheeks flushed, but you didn’t look away. “Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in the quiet intimacy of the flower shop.

As the evening stretched on, the two of you lingered at the table, the white tulips between you a silent witness to your connection. The conversation had been honest, raw, and at times painful, but it had brought you closer than ever.

When Nanami finally stood to leave, he paused, his hand lingering on the back of your chair.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

“For what?” you asked, looking up at him.

“For being patient with me. For giving us a chance,” he said.

You smiled, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “We’re in this together, remember?”

He nodded, his expression warm. “Together.”

As he walked out the door, you watched him go, your heart feeling lighter than it had in days. The sunset continued to bathe the shop in its golden glow, a fitting end to a day that marked a new beginning.

Nanami stepped out of the flower shop, the faint chime of the bell above the door marking his exit. The cool evening air greeted him, carrying with it the scent of fresh blooms and the distant hum of the city. As he made his way to his car, his thoughts were consumed by you—your voice, your smile, the way the light of the sunset seemed to wrap around you like a warm embrace.

The conversation you’d shared replayed in his mind. It had been an unexpected blend of honesty, vulnerability, and something he could only describe as hope. He could still see the soft expression on your face, the way your fingers brushed the edge of the table as you spoke, and the quiet strength in your voice when you asked for honesty moving forward.

Nanami exhaled slowly as he reached his car, unlocking it with a soft beep. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he rested his hands on the steering wheel for a moment, staring ahead but not really seeing the road.

As the car hummed to life and he began his journey home, Nanami’s thoughts remained fixed on you.

How does she do it? he wondered. How does she manage to make everything feel so… steady, even when it’s not?

He’d never considered himself someone who needed reassurance, yet something about your presence seemed to provide it without effort. You grounded him in ways he hadn’t expected, but it wasn’t just that—it was the way you challenged him to be better, to be honest not only with you but with himself.

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his brows furrowing slightly.

But there was still a part of him that wrestled with doubt. Was he really capable of giving you what you deserved? He’d spent so much time burying his emotions, convincing himself that keeping things surface-level was easier, safer. Yet here you were, breaking down those walls with your warmth and patience.

The glow of the streetlights flickered through the car as he drove, illuminating the quiet streets. His mind wandered back to the way you had smiled at him when he complimented you, the faint blush dusting your cheeks. It was a small moment, but it had etched itself into his memory with startling clarity.

“I can’t let myself screw this up,” he muttered to himself, the words barely audible over the sound of the engine.

Nanami pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex, the soft crunch of gravel beneath the tires signaling his arrival. He turned off the engine, the sudden silence enveloping him.

Grabbing his briefcase from the passenger seat, he stepped out of the car and made his way to the entrance. The faint hum of fluorescent lights in the hallway greeted him as he entered the building, his footsteps echoing softly against the tile floor.

Unlocking the door to his apartment, he stepped inside and flicked on the lights. The space was neat and minimal, the kind of environment that mirrored his need for structure and order. But tonight, it felt emptier than usual.

He set his briefcase down near the door, pausing for a moment as he exhaled deeply. The events of the day lingered heavily on his mind, and for the first time in a long while, he found himself craving something more than solitude.

Nanami made his way to the kitchen, opening the cabinet to retrieve a glass. He filled it with water, the cool liquid soothing his dry throat as he leaned against the counter. His gaze drifted to the window above the sink, where the faint glow of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.

As he sipped his water, his thoughts returned to you once again. He could picture you closing up the shop for the night, your hands carefully tending to the flowers as you hummed softly under your breath. The image brought a faint smile to his lips.

Setting the empty glass in the sink, he made his way to the bathroom to begin his nightly routine.

The sound of running water filled the small bathroom as Nanami washed his hands and face, the coolness of the water refreshing against his skin. He reached for the towel hanging nearby, patting his face dry before glancing at his reflection in the mirror.

His hair was slightly disheveled from the day, a few strands falling out of place. He ran a hand through it, smoothing it back into its usual neat style. But as he looked at himself, he couldn’t help but notice the subtle tension still lingering in his expression.

Why do you let yourself overthink everything? he questioned silently.

Shaking his head, he turned his attention to brushing his teeth, the rhythmic motion grounding him in the present.

Nanami made his way to the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. The soft fabric slipped off his shoulders, and he draped it neatly over the back of a chair. He changed into a simple black t-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting pants, the comfort of his nightly attire a welcome contrast to the structured formality of his usual wardrobe.

As he folded his work clothes and set them aside, his mind wandered back to your conversation at the flower shop. He replayed the way your voice had softened when you spoke about needing honesty, the way your eyes had held his when you talked about your own fears.

There was a vulnerability in the way you had shared your thoughts with him, and it only made him admire you more. But it also left him feeling a weight of responsibility—a need to ensure that he didn’t let you down.

Nanami sat on the edge of his bed, his hands resting on his knees as he stared at the floor. The quiet of his apartment seemed to amplify his thoughts, each one pulling him deeper into his reflection.

He thought about the way the sunlight had illuminated your features earlier, the colors of the sunset painting you in shades of gold and rose. It was a moment that felt almost surreal, like something out of a dream.

And yet, it was real. You were real.

As much as he wanted to take things slowly, to ensure that he didn’t rush into something he wasn’t ready for, there was no denying the pull he felt toward you. It wasn’t just attraction—it was the way you made him feel seen, understood, and accepted.

But with that came fear. Fear of failing you. Fear of not being enough.

Nanami leaned back against the headboard, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling. He let out a slow breath, his chest rising and falling as he tried to quiet the doubts swirling in his mind.

He didn’t have all the answers, and he wasn’t sure he ever would. But if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that he wanted to try.

He wanted to be the kind of man who deserved someone like you.

Reaching for his phone on the bedside table, he hesitated for a moment before unlocking it. His thumb hovered over your name in his contacts, the faint glow of the screen illuminating his face.

He considered sending you a message—something simple, just to let you know he was thinking about you. But as he stared at the screen, he realized that words didn’t feel like enough.

Instead, he set the phone back down, deciding that actions would speak louder than anything he could say tonight.

Nanami turned off the bedside lamp, the room plunging into darkness save for the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains. He lay back against the pillows, the cool fabric of the sheets brushing against his skin.

As he closed his eyes, his thoughts once again drifted to you. He could still hear your laughter, see the way your eyes lit up when you talked about something you were passionate about.

A faint smile tugged at his lips as sleep began to claim him. Whatever challenges lay ahead, he knew that facing them with you was worth it.

And with that thought, he finally allowed himself to rest.

Nanami’s alarm buzzed softly at 6:00 a.m., the sound low enough to ease him awake rather than jolt him out of his dreams. He reached over, silencing the noise before sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The faint morning light streamed through his curtains, painting his room in muted tones of gold and gray.

He glanced at his phone, noting the time and checking his schedule for the day. While work loomed later in the afternoon, his thoughts were immediately occupied by something—or rather, someone—else. You.

That one plant from your shop would look really nice in his bedroom. It debated if it would be worth it. But, ts green leaves would being a homey spot in his otherwise minimalist apartment. It made him think of you—how you would be surprised from me buying it, how you just so happened to change me into a whole other person. One that thinks that one singular plant would remind me of you every single time I walk out of my stone cold home.

With that thought, he stood and began his routine. After a quick shower, he brushed his teeth and trimmed his beard with practiced precision. Dressing was next: a crisp button-up shirt and tailored slacks, as always, though he chose a lighter tie today—a subconscious reflection of the lightness he felt when thinking about seeing you.

Nanami poured himself a cup of black coffee and leaned against the counter, scrolling through his phone as he took slow sips. He had time before work, enough to stop by your shop for a while. He’d been doing that more and more lately, unable to resist the pull of your presence.

He thought back to your conversation about the party—how you’d spoken with such excitement about your best friend and her husband. His cousin, to no one’s surprise, had been meddling again, but for once, Nanami didn’t mind. The idea of spending an evening with you in a casual, joyful setting was strangely appealing.

I’ll need to pick up something for the party, he mused. Maybe a bottle of wine or some flowers. Flowers seem fitting.

The thought of you guiding him through your shop, picking out the perfect bouquet, made him smile to himself.

By the time he arrived at your shop, the sun was fully up, casting a warm glow over the city streets. The chime above the door announced his arrival, and he saw you look up from the counter with that familiar, radiant smile that always seemed to brighten his day.

“Good morning,” you greeted, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Morning,” he replied, his voice softer than usual. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all,” you assured him, gesturing toward a small seating area near the window. “Sit down. I’ll make us some coffee.”

As you moved toward the small coffee station in the corner, Nanami watched you with quiet admiration. There was something calming about your presence, the way you moved with purpose yet never seemed rushed.

When you returned with two steaming mugs, you sat across from him, the tulips on the table between you catching the sunlight.

“Remember what we talked about the other day?” Nanami asked, wrapping his hands around his mug.

“Cooking together?” you replied, a grin spreading across your face.

He nodded. “I was thinking we could plan our first dinner. Maybe this weekend? My place or yours—it’s up to you.”

“Let’s start at mine,” you suggested. “That way, I can show off my cooking skills first.”

Nanami chuckled. “Fair enough. Just don’t set the bar too high, or I’ll never hear the end of it when I mess something up.”

“You’ll do fine,” you teased. “But I’ll make sure to stock some takeout menus, just in case.”

“Noted,” he said, his lips quirking into a small smile.

The two of you spent the next few minutes planning out a tentative menu, debating over appetizers and desserts. The ease of the conversation reminded you of how natural things felt with him now, as if the earlier misunderstandings had only strengthened your bond.

As the conversation shifted, you brought up the party again. “So, about next weekend…have you thought about what you’ll bring to the party? My best friend and her husband always go all out with the food and drinks, but they love it when guests contribute something small.”

“I was thinking flowers,” Nanami admitted, glancing toward one of your displays. “I know it’s cliché, but it seems fitting.”

“It’s not cliché—it’s thoughtful,” you said, your smile softening. “And I know they’ll appreciate it. Maybe we can pick out a bouquet together later.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he replied, taking another sip of his coffee.

There was a comfortable pause as you both glanced out the window, watching the steady flow of pedestrians and the occasional car passing by. The sunlight streamed through the glass, catching on your features and casting a warm glow over your skin.

Nanami found himself staring, his chest tightening slightly at how effortlessly beautiful you looked in that moment.

“What?” you asked, catching his gaze.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, though his lips curved into a faint smile. “Just thinking about how glad I am that we’re here—talking like this.”

As the morning stretched on, your new employee took over handling the few customers that trickled in, allowing you and Nanami to continue your conversation uninterrupted. You found yourselves sharing stories again, diving deeper into the parts of your lives that had shaped who you were.

Nanami told you about his past, the long hours and sleepless nights of his younger years, and how he’d once thought he was too busy for anything resembling a real connection. He mentioned a brief hookup stage, his tone matter-of-fact but tinged with regret.

“It never meant anything,” he admitted, his gaze fixed on the tulips. “It was just… a distraction, I suppose. Something to fill the empty spaces.”

You nodded, your expression understanding. “I get that. I had a failed talking stage once—it turned out he had a girlfriend the whole time. I cut it off as soon as I found out, but it left a bad taste in my mouth for a while.”

Nanami’s eyes darkened slightly, a protective edge creeping into his voice. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“No,” you agreed, a small, bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. “But it taught me to trust my instincts more. And to value honesty above all else.”

“Honesty is important,” he said, his tone firm. “And I want you to know that I’ll always be honest with you—even when it’s not easy.”

“I appreciate that,” you replied, your voice softening.

The conversation continued, touching on hopes, fears, and the little things that brought you joy. The shared vulnerability only seemed to bring you closer, reinforcing the connection that had been steadily growing between you.

As the day wore on, the light outside began to shift, the sun dipping lower in the sky. The warm hues of the sunset painted the shop in a soft, golden glow, and you couldn’t help but pause to admire the view.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, your eyes fixed on the horizon.

Nanami followed your gaze, his expression thoughtful. “It is.”

The colors of the sunset reflected on your skin, enhancing your features in a way that took his breath away. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, simply taking in the sight of you bathed in the golden light.

“What?” you asked, turning to face him with a curious smile.

“Nothing,” he said softly, his lips curving into a small smile. “Just… thinking how lucky I am to be here with you.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you reached across the table, your fingers brushing his briefly.

“Me too,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, you couldn’t help but feel that this moment—this quiet, shared understanding—was the beginning of something truly special.

As the warm hues of the sunset painted the flower shop in a surreal glow, you let out a quiet sigh, leaning your elbows on the table as you studied Nanami’s face. He had a way of seeming both perfectly composed and deeply thoughtful, like his mind was always considering every detail around him.

The table between you felt like a bridge, one that you were carefully crossing with every vulnerable word exchanged. And yet, there was still something lingering in your chest, heavy and restless, waiting to be said.

“Nanami…” you began, your voice soft, almost hesitant.

He looked up at you, his expression attentive. “Yes?”

Your fingers fiddled with the edge of the tablecloth, gathering courage. The gentle fragrance of the flowers around you seemed to ground you, giving you the push you needed.

“I need to tell you something,” you continued, glancing down at your hands before meeting his gaze again. “I really, really like you. More than I’ve liked anyone in… I don’t even know how long.”

His eyes softened, but he didn’t interrupt, letting you find your words.

“It’s hard not to call it love,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “Because it feels so close to it. But I know that word carries so much weight, and I don’t want to scare you or push you into something you’re not ready for. I just… I needed to say it. I needed you to know how I feel.”

The silence that followed was heavy but not suffocating. Nanami’s gaze didn’t waver, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind, the careful consideration he always gave to his words and actions.

“I… don’t know what to say,” he finally said, his voice quiet but steady. “Except that I’m grateful—grateful that you trust me enough to share this with me. And I want you to know that I feel something strong for you too. It’s just…”

“It’s complicated,” you finished for him, offering a small, understanding smile.

He nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly as if your words had eased a burden he didn’t realize he was carrying.

“It’s not that I don’t care,” he said, his tone earnest. “I care deeply. And I think about you more than I probably should. But I’m still figuring out what all of this means for me—for us. I don’t want to say or promise something I’m not ready to fully understand.”

You nodded, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “That’s okay. I’m not asking for anything right now. I just wanted you to know.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics after that, the heavy weight of unspoken feelings giving way to something more relaxed. The sound of soft music and the occasional rustle of petals filled the space between your words, and you found yourself smiling more easily as the evening went on.

At one point, Nanami’s gaze drifted toward the displays of plants near the counter. He seemed drawn to them, his eyes lingering on a small pot of greenery with delicate, trailing vines.

“Is that a pothos?” he asked, nodding toward the plant.

You blinked in surprise. “It is. I didn’t know you knew anything about plants.”

“I don’t,” he admitted, his lips quirking into a small smile. “But I’ve been meaning to add something green to my apartment. It feels… bare sometimes.”

You stood, walking over to the display and picking up the pot he’d been eyeing. “This one’s a good choice. It’s low-maintenance, doesn’t need a lot of light, and it’s hard to kill. Perfect for someone with a busy schedule.”

He chuckled softly, reaching for his wallet. “Then I’ll take it.”

You shook your head, holding up a hand to stop him. “Consider it a gift. For all the times you’ve been here to keep me company.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, his tone slightly hesitant.

“Absolutely,” you said with a smile, handing him the pot.

He accepted it, his fingers brushing yours briefly, and you felt a warmth spread through you at the contact.

Nanami left the shop not long after, the small pothos plant nestled securely in the passenger seat of his car. As he drove through the quiet streets, his thoughts returned to you, your words from earlier replaying in his mind.

“It’s hard not to call it love.”

The confession had stirred something deep within him, a mix of admiration, guilt, and longing that he couldn’t quite untangle. He hadn’t expected you to be so open, so vulnerable, and it had caught him off guard in the best possible way.

But it also reminded him of his own hesitations, the fears that had kept him from fully embracing the possibility of love.

Back at his apartment, Nanami placed the pothos on his bedroom dresser next to his bed, adjusting it slightly until it looked just right. The small touch of greenery brought a surprising warmth to the space, and he found himself smiling faintly as he looked at it.

After changing into more comfortable clothes, he began his nightly routine—brushing his teeth, washing his face, and organizing his things for the next day. But his mind kept drifting back to the shop, to the way the sunset had highlighted your features, making you look ethereal.

As he turned off the lights and settled into bed, he stared up at the ceiling, his thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. He still wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to use the word love, but he knew one thing for certain: you’d become an irreplaceable part of his life, and he wasn’t about to let that go.

With that thought, he closed his eyes, a small sense of peace settling over him as he tried to drift off to sleep.

The evening had been a whirlwind of emotions, and though his outward demeanor had remained calm and composed, his heart had been anything but. The words you had spoken earlier echoed in his mind with relentless clarity.

“I really, really like you. It’s so hard not to call it love.”

He had kept his response measured, offering you honesty without making promises he wasn’t ready to keep. But the truth was, he was battling with himself. That line between liking and loving, between caution and surrender—it blurred whenever he thought of you.

The familiar scent of his freshly laundered sheets enveloped him, clean and crisp, but his mind was anything but orderly.

He leaned back against the pillows, his head resting heavily as he stared up at the ceiling. He reached for his phone on the bedside table, scrolling mindlessly through a few messages and emails. But the device quickly became an afterthought, his thoughts drifting inexorably back to you.

Nanami closed his eyes, trying to will his mind into submission, but images of you refused to leave. He could see you as clearly as if you were standing before him—the way your lips curved into that smile that seemed to hold a secret only he knew. The way your voice, warm and honeyed, wrapped around him like a comforting embrace.

Your touch lingered in his memory, the subtle brush of your fingers against his hand, the way your warmth had seeped into his skin and stayed there, impossible to shake.

He thought of your laughter, the way it bubbled up so effortlessly, lighting up the space around you. How you had looked earlier that evening, your features softened by the glow of the sunset streaming through the shop window. He couldn’t forget the way the light had kissed your skin, highlighting every delicate detail, leaving him completely entranced.

As his mind replayed these moments, his body reacted in ways he couldn’t ignore. A warmth began to build in his chest, spreading outward like an uncontrollable flame. His pulse quickened, a heat rising to his face and neck.

Nanami turned onto his side, burying his face into the pillow in an attempt to push the feelings away. But it was no use. The more he thought about you—your movements, your expressions, the way your lips had felt against his during that first kiss—the more his body seemed to betray him.

His chest felt tight, his breathing shallow. He pressed a hand to his forehead, willing himself to calm down.

“Get a grip,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and strained.

But his mind was a traitor, conjuring images of you in his space, in his bed, wrapped in his arms. He imagined the way your body would mold to his, the softness of your touch, the intoxicating scent of your skin.

His heart pounded, the heat in his body almost unbearable. It wasn’t just desire—it was the overwhelming affection he felt for you, the way you consumed his thoughts, his heart, his very being.

Nanami sat up abruptly, the cool air of the room brushing against his skin. He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tugging lightly at the strands as he tried to ground himself.

This wasn’t like him. He was usually so composed, so in control. But with you, it was different. You had a way of unraveling him, of breaking through the walls he had so carefully constructed over the years.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, planting his feet firmly on the floor. The coolness of the hardwood helped to steady him, if only slightly.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, focusing on the rise and fall of his chest. He counted each inhale and exhale, forcing himself to relax. Slowly, the heat began to dissipate, leaving him feeling both relieved and strangely empty.

Nanami lay back down, pulling the covers up to his chest. He turned onto his side, his gaze falling on the small pothos plant on his dresser. The sight of it brought a faint smile to his lips, a reminder of you and the warmth you brought into his life.

As he closed his eyes, the images of you returned, but this time, they were softer, more subdued. He imagined holding you, not in a moment of passion, but in one of quiet intimacy. The thought of you curled up against him, your breathing steady and even as you drifted off to sleep, brought a sense of calm he hadn’t felt in a long time.

His heart ached with the weight of his feelings, feelings he wasn’t yet ready to name. But as he finally succumbed to sleep, one thought lingered in his mind—a thought that carried him through the night.

“I don’t deserve her, but I’ll do everything I can to make her happy.”

And with that, Nanami’s breathing slowed, his body relaxing completely as he drifted into a deep, dream-filled slumber.

#fanfic #jjk #jjk nanami #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #nanami x y/n #for you #jujutsu kaisen nanami

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tulitulii · 6 months ago

Text

Word count: 5.2k

(I’m sorry 😞)

Selfish

…………………………………………………………………………

Chapter 6.

The soft light of dawn seeped through the curtains, pulling me from the depths of a dream I couldn’t quite remember. For a brief moment, I just lay there, letting the gentle warmth of the morning wrap around me.

Then reality settled in, and with it came the rush of memories from last night.

Nanami.

A small smile tugged at my lips as I sat up, the covers pooling around my waist. Last night had been perfect—almost too perfect. The thought sent a warm flush through me, though it was quickly accompanied by a flicker of nervousness.

I reached for my phone on the nightstand, half-hoping there would be a message from him. But the screen remained dark, save for the time: 6:45 AM.

It was still early. He was probably still asleep.

With a sigh, I set the phone back down and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The coolness of the floor against my feet was grounding, a reminder that life had to go on, even after nights like last night.

I moved through my morning routine almost mechanically, brushing my teeth, washing my face, and tying my hair back. Everything felt mundane in comparison to the whirlwind of emotions still swirling in my chest.

Breakfast was a simple affair—toast and scrambled eggs, nothing like the extravagant spread I’d made for Nanami yesterday. I ate in silence, my mind replaying every detail of the night before.

The way he’d held my hand.

The way he’d kissed me.

The way he’d looked at me, as if I were the only person in the room.

I found myself smiling again, even as I scolded myself for it.

Get it together. It’s just one date.

But deep down, I knew it wasn’t just anything. Nanami wasn’t the kind of man who did things halfway. When he committed to something—or someone—it was with his whole heart.

That thought both thrilled and terrified me.

The flower shop was quiet when I arrived, the scent of roses and lavender greeting me as I unlocked the door. It was always peaceful in the mornings, before the rush of customers came in with their hurried orders and endless questions.

I busied myself with small tasks, watering the plants, arranging bouquets, and restocking shelves. The rhythm of work was soothing, a welcome distraction from the thoughts that threatened to consume me.

But even here, in the sanctuary of my shop, he was never far from my mind.

Every time the bell above the door chimed, I found myself glancing up, half-expecting to see him standing there with that soft, knowing smile of his.

But it was never him.

By midday, the shop was bustling with activity. A steady stream of customers came and went, their voices blending into a hum of background noise. It was busy enough to keep me occupied, but not so busy that I could completely escape my thoughts.

I wondered what he was doing right now.

Was he thinking about me too?

The bell above the door chimed again, and this time, my heart skipped a beat.

Nanami.

He stood in the doorway, looking as composed and effortlessly handsome as ever. His gaze swept across the shop before landing on me, and the faintest hint of a smile curved his lips.

“Hi,” I said, my voice soft but steady.

“Hello,” he replied, stepping closer. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Never.”

He glanced around at the flowers, his expression thoughtful. “It’s beautiful in here. Peaceful.”

“Thanks,” I said, feeling a warmth spread through me at his words.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package, setting it on the counter.

“What’s this?” I asked, eyeing the neatly wrapped box.

“Just something I thought you might like,” he said, his tone casual, though there was a softness in his eyes that made my heart flutter.

I opened it carefully, revealing a delicate silver bracelet adorned with tiny charms—each one a flower.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, my fingers tracing the intricate design.

“I thought it might remind you of your shop,” he said. “And of how much care you put into everything you do.”

I looked up at him, overwhelmed by the gesture. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

As the afternoon wore on, Nanami lingered in the shop, helping me with small tasks and occasionally chatting with customers. It was easy, comfortable, as if he belonged here.

But there was a tension beneath the surface, one I couldn’t quite name.

He seemed… distant, in a way. Not physically—he was right there beside me, steady and present as always. But there was a weight to his gaze, a subtle hesitation in his movements, as if he were holding something back.

“Is everything okay?” I asked at one point, unable to keep the question to myself any longer.

He looked at me, his expression unreadable. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

“You just seem… I don’t know. A little distracted.”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to mine. “I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not right now,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “But thank you.”

I nodded, though the response left a knot in my stomach.

By the time the shop closed, the unease had settled into a quiet ache.

Nanami offered to walk me home, and I accepted, grateful for his company even if it felt like there was a wall between us now.

The walk was quiet, the air cool and crisp as the sun dipped below the horizon. I wanted to say something, to bridge the gap that seemed to have formed between us, but I didn’t know where to start.

When we reached my apartment, he stopped just outside the door, his hands in his pockets.

“Thank you for today,” he said, his voice low.

“Thank you for the bracelet,” I replied.

He nodded, his gaze lingering on me for a moment before he stepped closer.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead.

“Goodnight,” I whispered, watching as he turned and walked away.

Back inside my apartment, the quiet felt heavier than usual.

I set the bracelet on the nightstand, its delicate charms glinting in the dim light.

It was beautiful—perfect, even. But something about it felt bittersweet now, like it carried the weight of something unspoken.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was pulling away, even if only slightly.

And I couldn’t help but wonder if it was because of me.

As I got ready for bed, I replayed the events of the day in my mind, searching for clues, for answers.

Had I said something wrong? Done something wrong?

Or was it just him—just Nanami, with all his layers and complexities and guarded emotions?

I didn’t know.

But as I climbed into bed and stared up at the ceiling, I felt the ache of uncertainty settle deep in my chest.

Because while I wasn’t ready to call it love, I was ready to call it something close to it.

And I wasn’t sure if he felt the same way.

The weight of the day lingered as I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment with Nanami. My heart was caught in a strange limbo, somewhere between elation and despair. The bracelet sat on my nightstand, catching the faint glow of my bedside lamp. Its beauty felt almost mocking now, a painful reminder of what felt like a growing chasm between us.

The apartment was quiet, save for the occasional sound of traffic outside. I reached for my phone instinctively, wondering if he might have texted. Part of me knew I shouldn’t expect it—not tonight, not after the tension that had hung over us all day—but the hope was still there.

The screen lit up in my hand. No new messages.

I let out a soft sigh and set the phone back down, pulling the covers tighter around me. Maybe he just needed time. Maybe this was just a bump in the road.

The rational part of me tried to cling to those thoughts, but the gnawing insecurity in my chest refused to be silenced.

It was almost midnight when my phone buzzed. The sound startled me, and I sat up quickly, my heart racing.

His name lit up the screen.

For a moment, I just stared at it, my thumb hovering over the notification. The knot in my stomach tightened as I hesitated, bracing myself for what the message might say.

Finally, I opened it.

“Hey. I’ve been thinking about us all night. I’m sorry if I seemed distant today. I want to be honest with you because you deserve that much from me.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding as I read on.

“You’re incredible. Truly. You’re kind, compassionate, beautiful… you make me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time. And that terrifies me.”

I felt my chest tighten, my breath catching in my throat.

“I’ve been selfish. I let my feelings for you push me into something I wasn’t ready for. Last night… today… it all happened so fast, and I realize now that I rushed things. That’s my fault, and I’m so sorry.”

My fingers trembled as I gripped the phone, reading the words over and over.

“I want to give you everything you deserve, but the truth is, I’m not ready. Not yet. I thought I could be, but I was wrong. And that’s not fair to you.”

Tears blurred my vision as I scrolled down, my mind racing with a thousand questions and none of them forming coherent thoughts.

“Please know this has nothing to do with you. You’re perfect. You’ve been nothing but patient and understanding, and I care about you more than I can say. But I need to figure myself out before I can be the man you deserve.”

I could barely breathe as I read the final lines.

“I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”

For a long moment, I just sat there, staring at the screen as the words sank in.

I felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me.

It wasn’t anger I felt, or even sadness—it was something deeper, something raw and aching and impossible to name.

I clutched the phone tightly, my mind spinning with everything I wanted to say. I wanted to scream at him for being so unfair, for building me up just to pull the rug out from under me. I wanted to tell him how much he meant to me, how I would have waited for him, how I would have done anything to make this work.

But I couldn’t.

Because deep down, I knew he was right.

I set the phone down on the nightstand, leaning back against the pillows as the tears finally came. They spilled down my cheeks in hot, silent streams, the kind of tears that come from a place too deep for words.

My mind replayed every moment we’d shared, from our first tentative conversations to the way he’d looked at me last night, like I was the only thing that mattered.

Had it all been a lie?

No. I couldn’t believe that.

He cared about me. I knew that. But knowing didn’t make the pain any less real.

I thought about the way he’d held my hand, the way he’d kissed me, the way he’d made me feel seen and valued and cherished. And now, all of it felt tainted by this new reality.

I didn’t sleep that night.

I couldn’t.

Every time I closed my eyes, the words from his message echoed in my mind, each one cutting deeper than the last.

“I’m not ready.”

“That’s not fair to you.”

“I hope you can forgive me.”

Forgive him? Of course, I would. How could I not? But forgiving him wouldn’t erase the pain. It wouldn’t change the fact that I’d opened my heart to him, only to have it handed back to me in pieces.

I wanted to call him, to hear his voice, to tell him how much this hurt—but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

He’d made his decision.

And now, I had to figure out how to live with it.

The sun rose slowly, its golden light spilling through the curtains and casting long shadows across the room. I hadn’t moved from my spot on the bed, too exhausted to do anything but stare at the ceiling.

The world felt different now, colder and emptier.

I forced myself to get up, to go through the motions of my morning routine, though everything felt hollow and meaningless.

When I got to the flower shop, the sight of the bracelet still sitting on the nightstand stopped me in my tracks.

I picked it up carefully, holding it in my palm as I stared at the delicate charms.

It was beautiful.

But it was also a reminder of everything I’d lost.

With trembling hands, I set it back down and turned away, unable to look at it any longer.

The shop was quiet that morning, the usual hum of activity dulled by the weight in my chest.

I moved through the day on autopilot, arranging flowers and helping customers without really seeing them.

The hours dragged on, each one heavier than the last.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, I was exhausted—not physically, but emotionally, mentally.

I wanted to call him.

I wanted to hear his voice.

But I couldn’t.

When I finally checked my phone again, there was another message from Nanami.

“I hope you’re okay. I know this isn’t easy. If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

The words felt like salt on an open wound.

I wanted to scream at him, to tell him how much his words had hurt me, to ask him why he couldn’t just let me in.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I set the phone down and buried my face in my hands, letting the tears come once more.

Because as much as I wanted to hate him, I couldn’t.

Because I still cared about him.

And that was the hardest part of all.

Here’s the continuation, dripping with heavy angst as requested, from your POV as you wrestle with embarrassment and guilt while avoiding Nanami at the shop.

I didn’t sleep again. For the second night in a row, I stared at the ceiling until the pale light of dawn seeped through my curtains, casting long shadows across the room. The ache in my chest hadn’t lessened—it had only grown, consuming every quiet moment and gnawing at my thoughts.

I replayed the text in my mind over and over, his words sharp enough to carve into my heart.

“I’m not ready.”

“I rushed things.”

“That’s not fair to you.”

I didn’t know why it hurt so much. Logically, I understood. He needed time; he wasn’t ready. But emotions didn’t care about logic. They cared about the fact that, for a fleeting moment, I’d thought he could be the one, and now that dream had been wrenched away.

And worse, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was my fault.

As I got ready for work, I felt the weight of it pressing down on me.

Had I been too eager? Too clingy? Had I imagined more in his actions than he was actually offering?

Every glance, every touch, every word—had I misread it all?

I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, brushing my hair with slow, deliberate strokes. My eyes were tired, ringed with shadows from the sleepless nights.

“You’re overthinking this,” I whispered to myself, but the words felt hollow.

I wasn’t overthinking. I was drowning in it.

The flower shop greeted me like an old friend, its familiar scents and soft light offering a small measure of comfort. For a moment, I let myself sink into the routine of it, arranging bouquets and watering plants.

But the peace was fleeting.

Every chime of the doorbell made my heart lurch, a small part of me wondering—dreading—if it might be him.

By mid-morning, I was a mess of frayed nerves and restless energy. I couldn’t focus. The customers blurred together, their voices distant and muffled as if I were underwater.

And then the bell rang again.

I glanced up instinctively, my heart dropping into my stomach when I saw him.

Nanami.

He stood in the doorway, looking as composed as ever, his sharp features softened by the morning light. His eyes scanned the shop, searching for me, and my breath caught in my throat.

I couldn’t face him.

Before I could think, I ducked into the back room, my movements quick and clumsy. My heart hammered in my chest as I leaned against the wall, willing myself to calm down.

The cool, dim space of the back room felt suffocating. I clutched at the fabric of my apron, my fingers twisting nervously as I listened to the muffled sound of his footsteps moving through the shop.

Why am I hiding?

The question echoed in my mind, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer it.

All I knew was that I couldn’t face him. Not now. Not like this.

The thought of looking him in the eye, of pretending everything was fine, made my stomach churn with a mix of shame and sadness.

I wasn’t sure why I felt so embarrassed.

He’d been the one to pull away, to say he wasn’t ready. So why did I feel like this was my fault?

But I did.

I felt like I’d pushed too hard, like I’d rushed things without realizing it. And now, I was paying the price.

If I’d just been more patient…

If I’d just given him space…

*If I hadn’t let myself fall so hard, so fast…

I sank further into the back room, my chest rising and falling in shallow breaths as I tried to steady myself. My legs felt weak, as if they could give out at any moment. The soft rustle of flowers and the faint hum of the shop’s overhead lights were the only sounds accompanying my spiraling thoughts.

He must be looking for me.

I imagined him standing near the counter, his calm demeanor masking the storm of emotions I knew he was capable of. Nanami wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but I’d seen glimpses of it—enough to know that he might be just as conflicted as I was.

But even that thought didn’t bring me comfort. If he cared, why had he pushed me away? Why did his words sound so final?

I sank to the floor, knees drawn to my chest, and let the weight of it all wash over me.

“Excuse me,” Nanami’s deep, steady voice filtered through the thin walls of the back room.

My stomach clenched.

He was speaking to one of my employees.

“I’m looking for her,” he continued, his tone polite but firm. “Is she here?”

I heard the hesitation in the employee’s response, a nervous laugh that only made my anxiety worse. “Oh, uh, she’s… she’s in the back. Do you want me to get her for you?”

“No need,” he said quickly, and I imagined him holding up a hand in that polite, controlled way of his. “I’ll wait.”

No, no, no.

Panic surged through me. He was staying.

I buried my face in my hands, my thoughts racing.

Why can’t I just face him?

But the truth was, I wasn’t ready.

I didn’t know how to look him in the eye after everything that had happened. I didn’t know how to act normal when every interaction with him felt like walking on glass.

And more than that, I didn’t want to say something I’d regret.

Because deep down, I was angry.

Not at him—not really—but at myself.

For falling too hard. For wanting too much. For thinking that someone like Nanami could ever be mine.

The minutes stretched on, each one feeling like an eternity.

I tried to distract myself, rearranging a box of vases that didn’t need rearranging, but my hands were shaking too much to hold anything steady.

I couldn’t stop imagining him out there, standing near the counter with that composed, thoughtful expression of his. I wondered what he was thinking.

Was he regretting coming here?

Was he annoyed that I was hiding from him?

The thought made my chest tighten with shame.

You’re being ridiculous, I told myself. He deserves better than this.

As I sat there, the memory of our last conversation played in my mind.

His voice, steady but tinged with hesitation. His words, carefully chosen but still cutting.

“You’re perfect.”

“I need to figure myself out.”

“I hope you can forgive me.”

Even now, the memory made my throat tighten. I’d wanted to scream at him, to tell him how much he was hurting me, but instead, I’d said nothing.

And now here I was, hiding in the back of my own shop, too afraid to face him.

I heard the sound of the front door opening, followed by the chime of the bell.

Had he left?

I peeked around the corner of the doorframe, my heart pounding, only to see him still there, talking quietly to another customer.

I pulled back quickly, my breath hitching.

I couldn’t do this.

Not today.

Grabbing my bag, I slipped out the back door and into the alley behind the shop. The cold air hit me like a slap, but it was better than facing him.

I didn’t stop walking until I reached a small park a few blocks away. The benches were empty, the morning quiet save for the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

I sank onto one of the benches, clutching my bag tightly as I tried to calm my racing heart.

But the guilt followed me, clinging to me like a shadow.

I knew I couldn’t avoid him forever. Sooner or later, I’d have to face him. I’d have to explain why I’d run, why I couldn’t bring myself to speak to him.

But right now, I wasn’t strong enough.

NANAMI:

Nanami stood by the counter, his eyes scanning the shop one more time. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his calm exterior betraying none of the turmoil roiling beneath the surface.

He’d noticed the way the young employee behind the counter avoided meeting his eyes, how her nervous smile twitched with discomfort when he asked about you. It didn’t take much for him to piece things together.

You were here. You just didn’t want to see him.

He tightened his grip on the bouquet in his hand—a modest arrangement of white lilies and pale pink roses. He’d chosen them carefully, hoping they might convey what his words couldn’t.

But now, standing alone in the shop, he wondered if he’d made a mistake.

Nanami’s thoughts were a whirlwind of self-recrimination.

I shouldn’t have come here.

He’d told himself to give you space, to let you process everything in your own time. But the image of your face—heartbroken and confused after his text—had haunted him since the moment he sent it.

I had to be honest, he reminded himself, though the thought brought little comfort.

Honesty had always been important to him, but this time, it felt like a double-edged sword. He’d spoken his truth, but in doing so, he’d hurt you.

And now, he wasn’t sure how to fix it.

His gaze drifted toward the doorway leading to the back room. He’d caught a glimpse of movement earlier—a shadow passing behind the curtain—and his chest had tightened with anticipation.

But you hadn’t come out.

The realization stung more than he wanted to admit.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly as he tried to steady himself. He couldn’t blame you for avoiding him. After everything he’d said, it was only natural that you’d need time to process.

But that didn’t make it any easier to stand here, knowing you were just a few feet away but unwilling to face him.

Nanami finally set the bouquet on the counter, his movements deliberate and precise.

The young employee looked up from her task, her eyes darting nervously between him and the flowers.

“Alright, have a good rest of your day, Ma’am.” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

The girl smiled, waving him goodbye.

Nanami hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on the bouquet.

What am I even doing?

He sighed, turning toward the door. The chime of the bell sounded louder than usual as he stepped outside, the cold morning air biting at his skin.

Here’s an extended continuation from Nanami’s point of view, building toward an emotional, highly descriptive argument:

Nanami walked out of the shop, his hands slipping into his coat pockets as the cold air stung his face. He paused outside, the weight of the bouquet lingering in his mind. The flowers were meant to speak for him in a way his words had failed to earlier. Now, they sat on the counter, an unclaimed offering—a reflection of how distant you’d become.

He let out a long breath, his eyes scanning the street. He couldn’t bring himself to leave. Not yet.

His mind replayed the nervous glance of your employee and the way her tone shifted when he asked about you. She’d practically spelled it out without saying the words: You were hiding from him.

His chest tightened at the thought. He understood why you didn’t want to see him. His text had been a gut punch, delivered with all the clinical precision he was known for in his professional life but none of the grace you deserved.

But understanding didn’t make it hurt any less.

His feet moved almost unconsciously, carrying him down the block. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but his mind was fixed on you.

I can’t just leave it like this, he thought.

Nanami’s steps slowed as he passed a park a few blocks from your shop. He hesitated, glancing at the rows of benches scattered under the trees. Something in his gut told him to look.

And then he saw you.

You were sitting on a bench near the edge of the park, your arms wrapped around yourself as if shielding against the cold. Your head was bowed, your hair partially hiding your face.

Nanami stopped in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat. For a moment, he considered walking away.

But then he saw the way your shoulders trembled.

You weren’t just sitting there—you were crying.

His chest ached at the sight, and before he could think better of it, he approached.

“Hey,” he said softly, stopping a few feet away from the bench.

You looked up sharply, your tear-streaked face a mix of surprise and something else—something that cut deeper than he expected.

“Why are you here?” you asked, your voice wavering.

Nanami hesitated. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing, but his mind was a tangled mess of guilt and longing.

“I couldn’t leave things like that,” he admitted, his voice low.

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes. “And you think showing up here will fix it?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, taking a tentative step closer. “But I couldn’t just walk away.”

You shook your head, looking down at your hands. “You already did, Nanami. When you sent that text, you made it pretty clear.”

Nanami clenched his fists, the words hitting him harder than he expected. “That’s not what I meant to do,” he said, his voice tight.

“Oh, really?” you shot back, standing up abruptly. “Because it sure felt like you were pushing me away.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but you didn’t give him a chance.

“You don’t get to do this, Nanami,” you continued, your voice rising. “You don’t get to pull me in, make me feel like I mean something to you, and then throw me aside the moment it gets too real.”

“That’s not what happened,” he said, his tone firm but measured.

“Then what did happen?” you demanded, your eyes burning with tears. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you got scared and decided to cut your losses before you got hurt.”

Nanami’s jaw tightened. “You think this is easy for me?” he asked, his voice low but intense. “You think I wanted to hurt you?”

“Then why did you?” you countered, your voice breaking.

“Because I didn’t know what else to do!” he said, his voice rising for the first time. “I care about you—more than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time. But I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready for the kind of love you deserve.”

You stared at him, your chest heaving with emotion. “Do you even hear yourself?” you asked, your voice trembling. “You’re standing here, telling me you care about me, but all you’ve done is make me feel like I’m not enough.”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“But that’s how it feels!” you interrupted, your voice raw. “You say you’re not ready, but you’re the one who started this. You’re the one who kissed me. You’re the one who made me believe we could be something.”

Nanami took a step back, as if your words had physically struck him.

“I never meant to lead you on,” he said quietly. “I thought I could handle it, but I—”

“But you what?” you pressed, your voice cracking. “You changed your mind? You decided I wasn’t worth the risk?”

“Stop,” he said, his voice sharp. “That’s not what this is about.”

“Then what is it about, Nanami?” you asked, tears streaming down your face. “Because from where I’m standing, it feels like you’re just running away.”

Nanami ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “I’m not running away,” he said, his voice low but intense. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?” you asked, your tone incredulous.

“From me,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “From the parts of me that aren’t good enough for you. From the person who doesn’t know how to love the way you deserve.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

You shook your head, your voice trembling as you spoke. “You don’t get to decide what I deserve, Nanami. That’s not your choice to make.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and longing. “I’m trying to do the right thing,” he said softly.

“And what if the right thing is letting me decide what I want?” you countered, your voice raw.

The two of you stood there in silence, the weight of the argument settling around you.

Nanami’s gaze dropped to the ground, his hands clenched at his sides. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said finally, his voice barely audible.

“Then stop pushing me away,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He looked up at you, his expression torn. “I don’t know if I can be what you need.”

“Then let me decide that,” you said, your tone both pleading and firm.

Nanami took a step closer, his hand reaching out to brush against yours. “I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice shaking. “Of letting you down. Of hurting you. Of not being enough.”

Your heart ached at his words, but you didn’t pull away.

“I’m scared too,” you said softly. “But I’m willing to try. Are you?”

He hesitated, his eyes searching yours for a long moment. And then, finally, he nodded.

“I’ll try,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

It wasn’t a promise, but it was enough—for now.

#fanfic #jjk #jjk nanami #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #nanami x y/n #for you #jujutsu kaisen nanami

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tulitulii · 7 months ago

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Word count: 7.3k

(Sorry 😞)

Not yet

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Chapter 5.

The morning sunlight peeked through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. For the first time in what felt like forever, waking up was a pleasure rather than a chore. The memory of Nanami’s lips pressed against mine ignited a warmth in my chest that refused to fade. It was intoxicating, that kiss—heated, tender, and laced with promises of something deeper.

Stretching lazily, I slipped out of bed, humming softly to myself. It wasn’t long before I was busy in the kitchen, determined to make breakfast for him. Nanami deserved the best, and I intended to deliver.

I worked with precision, the scent of cinnamon and butter filling the air as I dipped slices of bread into the egg mixture for French toast. Bacon sizzled in the pan, its crispy edges curling up perfectly. The scrambled eggs were fluffy and seasoned just right, and the pull-apart biscuits, golden brown, were the finishing touch. To add a refreshing element, I washed a handful of green grapes, placing them delicately in a separate container.

With everything prepared, I packed it neatly into a container, ensuring it would stay warm until Nanami came to pick it up later. Smiling to myself, I couldn’t help but imagine his reaction.

“You’re spoiling me,” he��d probably say with that small, rare smile of his.

Satisfied, I cleaned up quickly and got ready for work. My flower shop was a short walk from home, a cozy little place tucked away on a quiet street. It was my sanctuary, a place filled with the vibrant colors and sweet scents of nature.

As I unlocked the door, I was greeted by several boxes stacked neatly outside. The flowers I had ordered had finally arrived. Last week had been overwhelming, with demanding customers nearly clearing out my stock. But I loved the rush.

The bell above the door jingled softly as I stepped inside, inhaling the familiar mix of lavender, roses, and eucalyptus. After a quick inspection of the boxes, I began unpacking. Stems of hydrangeas, sunflowers, tulips, and lilies greeted me, their vibrant hues lifting my spirits even further.

The morning passed in a steady rhythm of arranging bouquets, ringing up customers, and tidying up. Business was brisk, but manageable. It felt good to be busy, though every now and then, my thoughts drifted back to Nanami.

I missed him.

He had a quiet, commanding presence that made the world feel less chaotic. His visits to the shop were always a highlight of my day. He’d linger near the counter, watching me with those deep, thoughtful eyes as I worked. Sometimes he’d bring me coffee or a small snack, little gestures that warmed my heart.

The container holding his breakfast sat behind the counter, a reminder of him. I found myself glancing at it every so often, imagining him walking through the door.

As the clock inched closer to the afternoon, the rush began to taper off. I was arranging a bouquet of white lilies and eucalyptus for a customer when the familiar sound of the bell above the door made me look up.

And there he was.

Nanami stood in the doorway, his tie slightly loosened, his hair just a bit disheveled from a long day at work. He carried himself with his usual composed demeanor, but his eyes softened the moment they met mine.

“Hi,” I said, unable to hide the smile spreading across my face.

“Hello,” he replied, stepping inside and glancing around at the shop. “Busy day?”

“Not too bad,” I said, setting the bouquet aside and wiping my hands on my apron. “Your timing is perfect. I made you breakfast.”

His brows lifted slightly, a rare expression of surprise. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.”

I retrieved the container from behind the counter and handed it to him. His fingers brushed against mine as he took it, a spark passing between us that made my pulse quicken.

“Thank you,” he said softly, his gaze lingering on me.

“It’s nothing,” I murmured, feeling a bit self-conscious under his steady stare.

He glanced down at the container, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You spoil me.”

“I try.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was charged, filled with unspoken words and growing feelings. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Are you free this evening?” he asked.

I blinked, surprised. “I think so. Why?”

“I’d like to take you out,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “Properly.”

My heart skipped a beat. “I’d like that.”

The shop bustled with quiet activity as I moved between tasks, my heart light and my mind buzzing with excitement. Tonight was going to be special—I could feel it. Nanami was taking me out on a date, a proper date, and the mere thought of it made me giddy.

I glanced over to where he sat at the corner of the counter, his tie now fully loosened, the container of breakfast I’d made open before him. He was eating slowly, savoring each bite.

“This is amazing,” he said, his voice carrying that steady, soothing tone I loved so much.

“Thank you,” I said, glancing at him with a smile. “I was worried it might’ve gotten cold.”

“It’s perfect,” he assured me, gesturing with his fork. “The French toast is just the right amount of sweet, the eggs are fluffy, and the bacon—crispy, exactly how I like it. You’ve outdone yourself.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head as I rearranged some vases. “You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not,” he countered, his gaze meeting mine. His eyes were warm, sincere. “You’re incredible.”

Heat rose to my cheeks, and I had to look away, pretending to fuss over a bouquet of sunflowers. “You’re really laying it on thick today, Nanami.”

“Only because it’s true,” he said, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “You should hear it more often.”

I rolled my eyes playfully, though his words had me glowing inside. He was relentless, sprinkling compliments here and there as he finished his meal. By the time he was done, I was sure he was trying to hypnotize me or something.

“Thank you for the breakfast,” he said, closing the container and setting it aside. “Now, what can I help you with?”

I blinked. “Help me with?”

“You’re still working,” he said simply, gesturing to the flower arrangements and the lingering boxes. “Let me help you tidy up.”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that,” I said quickly, waving him off. “You’re my guest.”

He gave me a look, one of those patient yet unyielding stares that made it clear he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“Nana—”

“I insist,” he said firmly, standing up and rolling his sleeves.

Before I could protest further, he was already moving a box to the back room. I sighed, shaking my head but smiling all the same.

“Fine,” I relented. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Cleaning a flower shop is no joke.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he said, his tone laced with amusement.

To lighten the mood, I grabbed my phone and connected it to the shop’s small speaker, putting on an upbeat playlist. The familiar rhythm of one of my favorite songs filled the room, and I started to hum along as I worked.

Nanami and I settled into a comfortable rhythm, organizing stems, wiping down counters, and sweeping up stray petals. Every now and then, I’d catch him glancing at me, a soft smile on his face.

At one point, the music took over, and I couldn’t help but sway to the beat as I arranged a vase of lilies.

“You’re enjoying yourself,” he remarked, his tone teasing.

“Guilty,” I said with a grin. “Music makes everything better.”

To my surprise, he chuckled, his usually stoic demeanor softening further. “Then I should dance too, shouldn’t I?”

“You? Dance?” I teased, raising an eyebrow.

He gave me a look before stepping closer, his hands resting lightly on my waist. “Teach me.”

I laughed, placing my hands on his shoulders. “It’s not that hard. Just follow my lead.”

We swayed together, his movements a little stiff at first, but he quickly got the hang of it. The moment felt light and carefree, a stark contrast to the usual seriousness of our days.

Soon, the dancing turned into playful spins and dips, laughter echoing through the shop. And then, somewhere between a twirl and a laugh, he pulled me close, wrapping me in a firm embrace.

The hug lingered, his warmth seeping into me. I tilted my head up to look at him, and he leaned down, pressing a soft peck to my lips.

The first one was gentle, almost tentative. Then came another, and another, each kiss growing deeper and more needy. My heart raced, and I clung to him, feeling a thrill rush through me every time his lips met mine.

“Nanami,” I murmured, breathless, “we’re supposed to be cleaning.”

“We are,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice before stealing another kiss.

The rest of our cleaning time was punctuated with stolen kisses and lingering touches, each one making me more excited for the evening ahead.

As we finished tidying up, I couldn’t help but ask, “So… where are you taking me tonight?”

He smirked, his expression a mix of mystery and affection. “You’ll see.”

“Nanami,” I pressed, pouting a little.

“You’ll like it,” he promised, his fingers brushing against mine. “Just trust me.”

And with the way he looked at me, it was impossible not to.

The cleaning was nearly done, the shop looking as squeaky clean as ever. The boxes were unpacked, flowers were arranged, and the counters sparkled under the soft lighting. I wiped my hands on my apron, feeling accomplished and thankful for Nanami’s help. He was leaning on the broom, watching me with that same warm gaze he always seemed to reserve just for me.

“You really didn’t have to help,” I said, shaking my head with a smile. “But I appreciate it.”

“I told you I wanted to,” he replied, his tone calm but firm. “Besides, it’s not every day I get to see you so relaxed.”

I laughed softly, setting down the spray bottle I’d been using. “I think you bring it out in me.”

His lips curved into a faint smile, one of those rare, genuine ones that made my heart skip. He glanced down for a moment, before looking back at me.

“I brought you something,” he said suddenly, his voice tinged with a hint of mystery.

I blinked, curiosity immediately piqued. “You… brought me something? For the date?”

He nodded.

“What is it?” I pressed, stepping closer.

“You’ll see it when you get home,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

“Home?” I tilted my head, confused. “What do you mean?”

His chuckle was soft, warm, and it sent a flutter through my chest. “You’ll see,” he repeated, as if enjoying my growing curiosity.

Before I could push him further, he set the broom aside and reached for my hand, pulling me gently toward him. The world seemed to slow as he brought my hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles.

“You’ve been on my mind since last night,” he said, his voice a quiet murmur that seemed to wrap around me like a warm blanket. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

My breath caught, and I felt a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the shop’s heater. His eyes held mine, deep and unyielding, as if he wanted me to truly hear the words he was saying.

“You’re perfect,” he continued, his free hand coming up to gently brush a strand of hair from my face. “You deserve everything good, everything beautiful in this world.”

I tried to speak, to protest that I wasn’t perfect, but the intensity in his gaze left me speechless.

“You deserve someone who loves you,” he said softly, his thumb brushing lightly against my cheek.

The sincerity in his words, the quiet conviction behind them, made my heart ache in the best way. He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to my forehead, the gesture so intimate and sweet it left me reeling.

“Nanami…” I managed to whisper, my voice trembling slightly.

His lips quirked up in a soft smile before he straightened, still holding my hand. “I should go,” he said reluctantly, though his eyes lingered on me as if he didn’t want to leave.

I nodded, though the thought of him leaving left an ache in my chest.

He stepped toward the door, pausing just before he opened it. Turning back to me, he closed the distance in two strides, his hands cupping my face as he pulled me into one final, breathtaking kiss.

This one was different from the others—not rushed or playful, but meaningful, and lingering, as if he were pouring all his feelings into it. My hands clung to his shirt, my knees threatening to buckle beneath me.

When he pulled back, I was left in a lovestruck daze, my lips tingling and my heart racing.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he said softly, his eyes holding mine for a moment longer before he turned and walked out the door.

The bell jingled softly in his wake, and I stood there for a moment, trying to collect myself. My thoughts were a whirlwind, my emotions a tangled mix of excitement, anticipation, and longing.

It took me a good five minutes to snap out of it and finish the last bit of tidying up. As I locked up the shop and headed to my apartment, my mind was entirely focused on him—and on whatever surprise he had waiting for me.

The evening sun had set, painting the sky in soft hues of indigo and gold as I made my way up the hallway to my apartment door. My mind was still replaying every moment from earlier in the day—Nanami’s words, his touch, his kiss. A smile tugged at my lips as I reached for my keys, ready to unlock the door.

But I froze in my tracks.

Sitting in front of my door was a box—sleek and elegant, tied with a large, silky wine-red bow that shimmered faintly under the hallway light. Beside it was a gift bag, equally luxurious in appearance, its handles made of thick cord and the bag itself embossed with delicate golden designs.

My heart skipped a beat. Nanami.

I crouched down, running my fingers lightly over the bow, almost afraid to disturb the perfect presentation. My curiosity got the better of me, and I scooped up both the box and the bag, fumbling slightly with my keys as I opened the door.

Once inside, I set everything down on the table, my hands trembling slightly with excitement and anticipation. The box seemed to hypnotize me, so I started there.

Carefully, I untied the bow, the silk sliding smoothly through my fingers, and lifted the lid. The sight inside made my jaw drop.

A fitted dress of deep wine red lay neatly folded, its fabric shimmering faintly under the light. It was stunning—elegant yet bold, the kind of dress that turned heads and left lasting impressions. Beside it was a fluffy black jacket, its texture so soft and inviting that I couldn’t resist running my fingers over it. Nestled at the bottom of the box was a pair of red-bottom heels, their glossy finish catching the light in a way that felt almost magical.

I was breathless.

Still reeling, I turned to the gift bag, my hands shaking slightly as I pulled out a smaller velvet box. Opening it revealed jewelry—delicate but undoubtedly expensive. A pair of sparkling earrings, a matching necklace with a teardrop-shaped pendant, and a slim bracelet that gleamed as though it had been crafted from starlight.

My first instinct was to look for a price tag, but of course, there wasn’t one.

“This is too much,” I whispered to myself, already fumbling for my phone.

Nanami’s number was saved in my contacts as something simple—just his name—but the man himself was anything but. I hit call, bringing the phone to my ear as I paced my apartment.

He answered on the second ring, his voice calm and unmistakably amused. “I was expecting this call.”

“Nanami,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “What is all of this?”

“It’s for you,” he said simply, his tone betraying just a hint of satisfaction.

“This is… no, this is way too much,” I said, my words tumbling out in a rush. “The dress, the shoes, the jacket, the jewelry—Nanami, I can’t accept this.”

“You can,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “And you will. Everything is yours to keep.”

“But—”

“No buts,” he interrupted gently. “You deserve it.”

I opened my mouth to protest again, but he cut me off with a soft chuckle. “Don’t worry so much. Just get ready. I’ll see you soon.”

Before I could respond, the line went dead. I stared at my phone, dumbfounded and flustered.

With a sigh, I set it down and turned back to the table, my gaze falling once more on the dress. It was beautiful—almost too beautiful to wear. But tonight was special, and if Nanami thought I deserved it, maybe I should try to believe it too.

I glanced at the clock. He’d told me to be ready by a specific time, and if I didn’t start now, I’d be late.

The next hour was a whirlwind of activity. I showered quickly, the hot water calming my nerves. Afterward, I stood in front of the mirror, carefully applying my makeup. I opted for a classic look—soft eyeshadow with a touch of shimmer, a sharp winged liner, and a bold red lip to match the dress.

Next came my hair. I styled it in loose waves, letting it cascade over my shoulders in a way that felt effortless yet elegant.

Finally, it was time for the dress. I slipped it on, the fabric hugging my curves perfectly, as though it had been made just for me. The jacket added a touch of sophistication, and the heels—though intimidating at first—completed the look beautifully.

The jewelry was a nice touch. I clasped the necklace around my neck, the pendant resting just above my collarbone. The earrings sparkled as they caught the light, and the bracelet added a subtle elegance to my wrist.

As a final touch, I reached for a bottle of perfume that had been sitting on my dresser for months. It was my favorite scent, but I rarely wore it—it was too precious, too expensive to use casually. But tonight felt like the right occasion.

I dabbed it lightly on my wrists and behind my ears, the floral and musky notes wrapping around me like a warm embrace.

When I was done, I stepped back and looked at myself in the mirror. For a moment, I hardly recognized the woman staring back. She looked confident, radiant, and ready for whatever the night had in store.

A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. My heart leapt, knowing it was Nanami.

I grabbed my clutch and took a deep breath before opening the door.

And there he stood, dressed handsomely in a tailored suit that fit him perfectly. His tie was the same shade of wine red as my dress, a subtle detail that didn’t go unnoticed. He looked at me with an expression I could only describe as awe, his gaze sweeping over me slowly, appreciatively.

“You look stunning,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

“Thank you,” I said softly, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks. “You look amazing too.”

He offered me his arm, and I took it, stepping out into the cool evening air.

“Ready?” he asked, his eyes meeting mine.

“Ready,” I said, my excitement bubbling over as we walked toward the car.

Nanami opened the car door for me with practiced ease, his movements smooth and confident. The car itself was pristine—sleek and black with an understated elegance that perfectly matched him. As I stepped inside, I noticed the faint scent of leather and his cologne, a scent that was becoming all too familiar and comforting.

Once I was settled, he closed the door gently before walking around to the driver’s side. When he slid into the seat beside me, his presence filled the small space effortlessly.

“Comfortable?” he asked, glancing over at me as he started the engine.

I nodded, my fingers smoothing over the hem of my dress. “Yes, thank you.”

He smiled, the corner of his mouth tugging upward ever so slightly as he pulled away from the curb.

The city lights sparkled like stars as we drove through the streets. I tried to guess where he was taking me, but the route didn’t look familiar. Instead of heading toward the bustling downtown area, we seemed to be veering into quieter, more upscale neighborhoods.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?” I asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

He chuckled softly, his eyes remaining on the road. “Not yet. I want it to be a surprise.”

I huffed playfully, crossing my arms but unable to keep the smile off my face. The mystery was exciting, even if it made me a little impatient.

After a few more minutes, we pulled into a private driveway, the car coming to a smooth stop in front of what looked like a modern estate. The building was breathtaking, all clean lines and large windows that glowed warmly from within.

“Nanami…” I began, turning to him in surprise. “What is this place?”

“You’ll see,” he said with a small smile, already stepping out of the car.

Before I could even reach for the door handle, he was there, opening it for me and offering his hand to help me out. His touch was firm yet gentle, grounding me as I stepped onto the cobblestone path.

He led me up the short staircase and through the front door, which opened into an expansive dining room. A single table was set in the center, draped in crisp white linens and adorned with a simple yet elegant centerpiece of roses and eucalyptus.

Soft, ambient lighting bathed the room in a golden glow, and the faint hum of instrumental music played in the background.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, my voice barely audible as I took in the scene.

“I’m glad you think so,” he said, his gaze warm as he pulled out a chair for me.

I sat down, smoothing my dress as he took his place across from me.

A waiter appeared as if on cue, dressed sharply in black and white. He greeted us with a polite nod and handed us menus, though it seemed more ceremonial than anything. Nanami had clearly planned everything down to the smallest detail.

As the waiter poured water into our glasses, I couldn’t help but glance at Nanami. He seemed so composed, so effortlessly confident, yet his attention never wavered from me.

“Did you plan all of this?” I asked, unable to hide the awe in my voice.

“I wanted to make tonight special,” he said simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Special is an understatement,” I said, shaking my head slightly. “This is… incredible.”

He smiled softly, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes.

The evening unfolded like a dream. Each course was a masterpiece, from the delicate appetizer of seared scallops to the main course of perfectly cooked filet mignon paired with a rich red wine. Nanami had thought of everything, even ensuring there was a vegetarian option in case I preferred it.

Between bites, we talked—about work, about life, and about the little things that made us who we were. He listened intently, his focus solely on me, and I found myself opening up in ways I hadn’t expected.

“You have a way of making me feel at ease,” I admitted at one point, twirling the stem of my wine glass between my fingers.

“Good,” he said, his voice steady. “That’s how it should be.”

By the time dessert arrived—a decadent chocolate soufflé paired with a dollop of vanilla bean ice cream—I was thoroughly enchanted.

But the best part of the night wasn’t the food or the ambiance. It was the way Nanami made me feel—cherished, seen, and utterly adored.

As the night drew to a close, he reached across the table, his hand brushing against mine.

“Shall we?” he asked, his tone soft yet inviting.

I nodded, letting him help me to my feet.

He guided me outside, where the night air was crisp but not too cold, thanks to the jacket he’d gifted me. The stars above seemed brighter than usual, and the world felt quieter, as though it belonged only to us.

“Thank you for tonight,” I said as we reached the car. “I don’t even have the words to describe how much it means to me.”

“You don’t have to,” he said, turning to face me. “Just knowing you’re happy is enough.”

The sincerity in his voice made my heart swell.

Before I could respond, he stepped closer, his hands resting lightly on my waist. His eyes searched mine for a moment, and then he leaned down, capturing my lips in a kiss that was as tender as it was passionate.

I melted into him, my hands finding their way to his chest as the world around us seemed to fade away.

When we finally pulled apart, I was breathless, my cheeks warm despite the cool night air.

“I don’t want this night to end,” I admitted softly, my fingers toying with the lapel of his suit.

“Neither do I,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “But it doesn’t have to. Not really.”

I looked up at him, my heart skipping at the weight of his words.

“Let me take you home,” he said, his thumb brushing lightly against my cheek. “We’ll have plenty of nights like this. I promise.”

And with that, he opened the car door for me once more, his touch lingering as I stepped inside.

The drive back was quiet, but it wasn’t the kind of silence that felt heavy or uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that spoke volumes, a shared understanding that didn’t need words.

When we reached my apartment, he walked me to my door, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back.

“Thank you again,” I said as I turned to face him. “For everything.”

“You’re worth it,” he said simply, his gaze holding mine.

With one final kiss, he left me standing there, my heart full and my mind spinning with thoughts of him.

As I stepped inside, the scent of his cologne still lingering in the air, I couldn’t help but smile. Tonight had been perfect, and somehow, I knew it was only the beginning.

NANAMI:

The drive home was quiet. Too quiet.

Nanami tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his thoughts tangled and loud in a way they hadn’t been in years. He glanced at the passenger seat where you had been sitting just moments ago, your perfume lingering faintly in the air. It was a delicate scent—floral, warm, and entirely you. It brought him a small measure of comfort, but it also reminded him of the whirlwind of emotions that had been building inside him ever since he met you.

He exhaled sharply, leaning back into his seat as he navigated the familiar streets. His chest felt tight, and he couldn’t quite place why. Tonight had been perfect. You were perfect.

But that word—perfect—was where the trouble began.

Nanami didn’t like to rush things. He didn’t believe in making promises he couldn’t keep or letting emotions overtake reason. That’s how he’d always lived his life: steady, disciplined, and controlled. But you… you had a way of undoing all of that.

He could still picture the way you looked tonight, standing in your doorway in that wine-red dress. The way your eyes lit up when you saw him, the way your smile could melt away the weight of the world. It was maddening, the effect you had on him. Maddening and intoxicating.

And it terrified him.

Because every time he thought of you, every time he held your hand or kissed you, he felt himself falling further and further.

“Falling.”

The word itself made him clench his jaw.

He didn’t want to use that word—not yet. Not because he didn’t care about you. He did. He cared deeply. He appreciated you, admired you, and found himself drawn to you in ways he couldn’t fully articulate. You were intelligent, kind, resilient—everything he respected in a person. And more than that, you understood him in ways he wasn’t used to being understood.

But the idea of love? Of saying the word aloud? It felt foreign, like it didn’t belong to him anymore.

He sighed, turning into his driveway and cutting the engine. The house was dark and quiet, as it always was, but tonight it felt lonelier than usual.

Nanami sat there for a moment, his hands resting on his thighs as he stared out at the empty street. His mind replayed every moment of the night—your laugh, the way you looked at him, the softness of your lips against his.

His heart ached in a way that was unfamiliar, and that was the problem.

He didn’t know how to navigate this.

He wanted to be close to you. He wanted to stand beside you, to protect you, to see you thrive and be happy. He wanted to learn every detail about you—the things that made you laugh, the things that made you cry, and everything in between.

But he wasn’t ready to call it love.

The word felt too big, too heavy, too final. Love wasn’t something he could say lightly, and the thought of saying it too soon—of rushing into something he wasn’t ready for—terrified him almost as much as the thought of losing you.

He didn’t want to hurt you. That was the last thing he ever wanted.

Nanami sat in his car a little longer than he should have, his hands still gripping the steering wheel even though the engine had long since been turned off. His house loomed before him, silent and still, as if reflecting the unease that had taken root in his chest.

The night had been perfect—too perfect, if he was being honest with himself. It had been the kind of evening that should leave him feeling content, yet all he could think about was the weight in his chest.

He had planned everything meticulously. The private dining space, the courses, the wine, even the ambient lighting—he wanted you to feel special, to feel cherished. And by the way your eyes lit up throughout the night, by the way you smiled so brightly it almost hurt to look at you, he knew he’d succeeded.

But now, sitting alone in the stillness of his car, he wasn’t so sure.

He ran a hand over his face and sighed, his fingers brushing the roughness of his jawline. He wasn’t a man prone to overthinking, but when it came to you, he couldn’t seem to stop. You occupied his thoughts in ways that were both exhilarating and unsettling, leaving him unmoored in a way he hadn’t been in years.

Nanami closed his eyes, resting his head against the seat. He could still picture you standing in your doorway earlier that night, wearing that wine-red dress and the faintest hint of nervousness. You had looked stunning, and when you smiled at him, it was like the rest of the world had melted away.

But then there was the kiss.

He hadn’t planned to kiss you—not like that. It had been an impulse, driven by something he couldn’t quite name. And when your lips had met his, soft and warm and inviting, he had felt something inside him unravel.

It scared him.

Not because he didn’t care about you—he did. He cared more than he had expected to, more than he should have so soon. But that was the problem.

It was too soon.

Nanami had always been a man of measured steps. He liked plans, predictability, and stability. But you… you had thrown all of that out the window.

For the first time in years, he found himself unsure of his footing.

He didn’t like that word—love. It felt too big, too final, too… risky. Love wasn’t something you threw around lightly; it was something you built carefully, brick by brick. And yet, every time he was with you, every time you looked at him with those eyes so full of warmth and trust, he felt the foundation beneath him shifting.

It wasn’t fair.

You deserved someone who could meet you where you were, someone who didn’t feel like their chest was caving in every time they thought about what you might want from them.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if to clear the thought.

You hadn’t asked for anything—not once. You hadn’t pressured him, hadn’t expected declarations or grand promises. All you had done was give, in your own quiet, unassuming way. The breakfast you’d made him earlier that day was proof of that—thoughtful, warm, and utterly you.

And yet here he was, sitting in his car like a coward, afraid of a word he couldn’t bring himself to say.

With a frustrated sigh, Nanami pushed the door open and stepped out into the cool night air. The house felt empty as he entered, the silence almost mocking. He dropped his keys onto the counter and poured himself a glass of water, the rhythmic sound of the faucet the only thing breaking the stillness.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and his heart leapt before he even realized it.

It was just a notification from the news app.

Nanami huffed out a laugh, bitter and low, at his own foolishness. What had he expected? That you would call him to say thank you again? That you missed him already?

He set the glass down and leaned against the counter, his hands braced on the cool surface as he stared down at his phone. Your name sat at the top of his recent calls, and he found himself hovering over it, his thumb itching to press the button.

But what would he even say?

He could picture the conversation now:

“I care about you,” he would begin, his voice measured and calm. But then what?

He didn’t want to lie to you, didn’t want to say anything he wasn’t sure of yet. But how could he explain that without hurting you?

You deserved honesty, but you also deserved certainty—neither of which he could offer tonight.

The frustration bubbled up inside him, hot and sharp. He wasn’t used to this—to feeling so… out of control.

Nanami pushed off the counter and began pacing the length of his kitchen, his movements slow and deliberate.

He thought of your laugh, the way it filled the room with warmth. He thought of the way your fingers brushed his when you handed him the container of breakfast earlier, the way your lips curled into a shy smile when he complimented you.

He thought of how you looked at him—not with expectations or demands, but with something softer, something that made him feel seen in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

And that’s what made this so difficult.

Because while he wasn’t ready to call it love, he knew, deep down, that it could become that.

And that terrified him.

Love meant vulnerability. It meant risking everything—your heart, your trust, your sense of self—for the sake of someone else.

He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that again.

But he was sure of one thing: he didn’t want to lose you.

“I’ll take it slow,” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely above a whisper. “Step by step.”

That’s all he could promise himself—and you. To take this one moment at a time, to let whatever this was between you grow naturally, without rushing or forcing it.

Because if there was one thing Nanami Kento was certain of, it was this: you were worth the wait.

YOU:

After such a magical evening, walking back into my apartment felt surreal. The place seemed smaller somehow, quieter, as if it didn’t belong in the same world as the whirlwind of emotions swirling in my chest. I set my purse down on the console table near the door, the soft clink of metal against wood echoing in the stillness.

The heels came off first. A small sigh escaped me as the tension in my feet dissipated. The plushness of the carpet beneath my bare feet was a simple relief, a grounding sensation that contrasted the way my thoughts still danced in the clouds.

I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Nanami.

I whispered his name softly to myself, savoring the way it felt on my tongue.

There was something about him that made the world feel lighter when he was near, even though he carried himself with such weight and responsibility. He had this way of looking at me—like I wasn’t just there but like I was present, in focus, in color.

And that kiss.

I touched my lips instinctively, warmth spreading through me at the memory.

He had kissed me before, but tonight had felt different. It was slow, deliberate, like he was trying to tell me something without words. Like he was pouring parts of himself into that kiss that he couldn’t express otherwise.

The thought sent a thrill through me, and my face flushed as I realized I was still standing in the entryway, lost in my own thoughts.

Shaking my head, I moved toward the bedroom, my movements automatic as I began to undo the night.

The dress came next.

I stood in front of my full-length mirror, taking in the sight of myself one last time before reaching behind to unzip it. The fabric slid down my body, pooling around my feet, and I stepped out of it carefully.

It was such a beautiful dress—bold, elegant, and so unlike anything I would have ever bought for myself. But he had chosen it for me. He had seen me in his mind and thought, this would suit her.

The thought made my chest tighten, and I carefully draped the dress over the back of a chair, smoothing out the fabric as if it were some priceless artifact.

I turned back to the mirror, now clad in just my lingerie, and studied my reflection. My skin still glowed faintly from the evening’s excitement, and my lips were slightly swollen from where his had been.

Is this what falling feels like?

I didn’t know.

I wasn’t ready to call it love—not yet. But whatever this was, it was strong. It was the kind of feeling that made your stomach flip and your hands tremble, the kind of feeling that made you want to laugh and cry all at once.

I leaned closer to the mirror, reaching for a makeup wipe. As I began to remove the remnants of my foundation, I thought about messaging him.

My phone sat on the nightstand, its screen dark but inviting.

The urge to text him was almost overwhelming. I wanted to thank him again for the evening, to tell him how much it had meant to me.

But I hesitated.

Would that make me seem clingy?

I didn’t want to be overbearing. He had just dropped me off not even an hour ago. Maybe he was already unwinding, enjoying some quiet time after what had been a long day for both of us.

Still, the thought of leaving him alone with his own thoughts made my heart ache a little. I knew how introspective he could get, how he sometimes seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

I wanted to be there for him.

But not yet. Not tonight.

So, instead of reaching for my phone, I turned back to the task at hand, gently wiping away the rest of my makeup.

The next step was my hair. I undid the carefully arranged updo I had spent so much time on earlier that evening, letting the strands fall around my shoulders. There was something cathartic about letting my hair down, literally and figuratively.

I ran a brush through it slowly, working out the tangles as I let my mind wander back to him.

Nanami.

There was so much I didn’t know about him yet, so many layers I wanted to uncover. He was quiet, reserved, and thoughtful, but there was a warmth beneath that exterior—a softness that he didn’t show to just anyone.

And he had chosen to show it to me.

That realization made my chest feel full, almost unbearably so.

Once my hair was brushed out, I changed into my pajamas—a loose, oversized T-shirt and a pair of soft shorts. It was a far cry from the elegance of the dress, but it was comforting in its own way.

I climbed into bed, the cool sheets brushing against my skin as I settled in. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp, and for a moment, I just lay there, staring up at the ceiling.

I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

About the way he had looked at me tonight, his eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite name. About the way he had taken my hand so gently, as if afraid I might break. About the way he had kissed me—slowly, deeply, with a kind of tenderness that made my heart ache.

It wasn’t love.

Not yet.

But it was close. So close it scared me a little.

I wasn’t sure when it had started—this feeling. Maybe it was the way he listened when I spoke, really listened, as if every word I said mattered. Maybe it was the way he noticed the little things about me, like how I preferred tea over coffee or how I always hummed when I was nervous.

Or maybe it was just him.

There was something about Nanami Kento that was quietly magnetic. He didn’t demand attention; he simply earned it, in the way he carried himself, in the way he treated the people around him.

And he had chosen me.

The thought made me smile, even as it sent a pang of anxiety through me. What if I wasn’t enough? What if I fell for him completely, only to find out he didn’t feel the same way?

I shook my head, trying to push the doubts aside.

Tonight had been perfect. He had been perfect. And for now, that was enough.

I glanced at my phone again, the screen still dark.

The temptation to message him was stronger now, almost impossible to resist.

Thank you for tonight, I could say. I had an amazing time.

But what if that came across as needy? What if he was already asleep, and I ended up disturbing him?

The last thing I wanted was to seem like I couldn’t go a single hour without talking to him, even though that was exactly how I felt right now.

I bit my lip, staring at the phone as if it might give me the answers I needed.

In the end, I decided against it.

Instead, I turned off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

As I closed my eyes, my mind drifted back to him.

I thought about the way his hand had felt in mine—warm, steady, grounding. I thought about the way his voice had sounded when he said my name, low and soft, like a secret meant only for me.

And I thought about that kiss.

It was the last thing on my mind as I drifted off to sleep, my heart full and aching in equal measure.

I didn’t know what the future held for us, but for the first time in a long time, I felt hopeful.

Because if tonight was any indication, it was going to be something beautiful.

#fanfic #jjk #jjk nanami #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #nanami x y/n #for you #jujutsu kaisen nanami #angst #slow burn #slow

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tulitulii · 7 months ago

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It’s ridiculously hard to keep this at a slow burn when every fiber of my being is screaming at myself, telling me to speed it up. But I’m over here trying to stretch things out like a rubber band, but the tension is real. It’s like watching water boil—except instead of walking away, I’m sitting there, staring, begging it to simmer even slower. Patience? Not my strong suit, but I’m hanging on by a thread, trying to make this crawl instead of sprint.

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tulitulii · 7 months ago

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Masterlist ;P

Chapter 1:

Chapter 2:

Chapter 3:

Chapter 4:

Chapter 5:

Chapter 6:

Chapter 7:

#fanfic #masterlist

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tulitulii · 7 months ago

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Word count: 5.4k

(Fingers hurt from how fast I’ve been cooking up. But it is going to be so worth it 🌝)

Too much

…………………. …………………. …………………. ………………….

Chapter 4.

The evening stretched into the early hours, the quiet comfort of your shared space replacing any lingering tension from before. After hours of soft conversations and shared glances, it was clear neither of you wanted to end the night. But when your eyelids began to droop and your head dipped onto Nanami’s shoulder for the third time, he stood, smoothing his shirt.

“You should sleep,” he said, his voice gentle but firm.

“You could sleep here,” you offered, the words escaping before you fully thought them through.

His brow furrowed, hesitation flickering in his eyes. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, standing and gathering the empty containers from your late-night meal. “I’m not about to let you go home this late. Take the couch. It’s more comfortable than it looks.”

After a moment of deliberation, Nanami nodded. “Thank you.”

You handed him a spare blanket and pillow, the awkwardness of the moment softened by the easy understanding between you. “Goodnight, Nanami.”

“Goodnight,” he replied, watching as you disappeared into your room.

The smell of breakfast woke him the next morning. As he stirred on the couch, the warmth of the blanket still clinging to him, he could hear the faint hum of a song coming from the kitchen.

When he stepped inside, he found you standing at the stove, flipping pancakes with a slight sway in your stance, lost in your own world. The table was already set with plates and glasses of orange juice, and the scent of honey sausage links and pull-apart biscuits filled the small apartment.

“You’re up early,” he said, his voice still husky with sleep.

You jumped slightly, turning to face him with a spatula in hand. “You scared me!”

“Sorry,” he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Sit,” you said, pointing toward the table. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

Nanami complied, running a hand through his slightly tousled hair as he settled into a chair. “You didn’t have to go all out,” he said, though the gratitude in his tone was unmistakable.

You turned to him, sliding a plate of fluffy pancakes onto the table before returning for the rest of the food. “I wanted to,” you said simply. “And I wasn’t about to let you leave on an empty stomach.”

As you sat across from him, you noticed the way his shoulders seemed more relaxed than usual, the usual tension absent. “Aren’t you going to be late for work?” you asked, a flicker of worry crossing your features.

Nanami shook his head, cutting into a pancake. “I have the day off.”

Relief washed over you, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Good. You deserve it.”

Breakfast passed in a comfortable rhythm, the two of you sharing quiet conversation between bites. Nanami commented on how the honey sausages were perfectly cooked, and you teased him for taking a second helping of biscuits.

As the plates were cleared, you glanced at the clock, realizing it was time to get ready for work.

“I should get going,” you said, standing and gathering the dishes.

“Let me help,” Nanami offered, rising to his feet.

“You’re my guest,” you said firmly, taking the plates from him. “Relax for a bit.”

He didn’t argue, instead leaning against the counter as you finished tidying up. When you finally disappeared into your room to get ready, he busied himself with tidying the living room, folding the blanket he’d used and setting the pillow neatly back on the couch.

When you emerged, dressed for work, you found him standing by the door, waiting patiently.

“You didn’t have to clean up,” you said, grabbing your bag.

“It’s the least I could do,” he replied, holding the door open for you.

The walk to your flower shop was peaceful, the early morning air crisp but not unpleasant. You walked side by side, your hands brushing every so often, though neither of you made a move to close the gap.

When you arrived, you unlocked the door and flipped the sign to “Open,” motioning for Nanami to follow you inside.

“Stay for a bit,” you said, setting your bag down behind the counter.

He hesitated for a moment before nodding, taking a seat near the display of fresh arrangements.

As you began your morning routine—watering plants, arranging flowers, and preparing the shop for the day ahead—Nanami watched quietly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. There was something calming about seeing you in your element, the way your hands moved deftly over the petals, your focus unwavering.

“Do you enjoy it?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Working here?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at him.

He nodded.

“I love it,” you said, turning back to the flowers. “It’s peaceful. I get to create something beautiful every day.”

He hummed thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on you. “It suits you.”

You paused, looking at him with a curious tilt of your head. “What about you? Do you enjoy your work?”

Nanami hesitated, his usual composed demeanor faltering slightly. “It’s… necessary,” he said finally.

“Necessary doesn’t mean enjoyable,” you pointed out, your voice soft.

He met your gaze, his expression unreadable. “No, it doesn’t.”

You wanted to press further, to ask him if he ever thought about stepping away from the stress and danger of his job, but something in his eyes stopped you. Instead, you offered him a small smile.

“Well, if you ever want to escape for a while, you’re always welcome here,” you said, your tone light.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his gaze softening.

As the day went on, Nanami stayed longer than he probably intended, helping you with small tasks around the shop and keeping you company during the slower moments. It felt natural—like he belonged there with you, in this small, vibrant space you’d created.

When he finally stood to leave, you walked him to the door, your heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time.

“Thank you for breakfast,” he said, his tone sincere.

“Thank you for keeping me company,” you replied, your smile warm.

As he stepped out into the morning sun, he paused, glancing back at you. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Definitely,” you said, watching as he walked away.

As you returned to your work, a small smile lingered on your lips, the memory of the morning replaying in your mind. You couldn’t quite put it into words, but something had shifted between you and Nanami—something unspoken yet undeniably there.

And for now, that was enough.

…………………. …………………. …………………. ………………….

Nanami:

The night had been a quiet storm in his chest—a brewing tension he couldn’t quite name, let alone resolve. As he lay on your couch, staring at the dark ceiling, he felt the weight of it all.

It wasn’t the first time Nanami had found himself in your space, but this time was different. It wasn’t just the comfort of your couch or the warmth of the blanket you’d given him. It was the way you said goodnight, soft and genuine, as if he truly belonged here.

He turned onto his side, closing his eyes in a vain attempt to sleep. But his thoughts betrayed him, looping endlessly around the sound of your laugh, the way you’d smiled at him over takeout containers, and the faint scent of flowers that lingered in the air.

He was in trouble, and he knew it.

The smell of breakfast pulled him from a restless sleep, the faint strains of your humming making his chest ache in a way he didn’t want to analyze. When he stepped into the kitchen and saw you standing there, so at ease in your own little world, he hesitated, lingering in the doorway longer than necessary.

The warmth of it all was disarming. For someone so accustomed to the rigidity of his routine, the sight of you flipping pancakes in the soft morning light felt almost surreal.

“You’re up early,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended.

You startled slightly, turning to him with wide eyes before narrowing them playfully. “You scared me!”

“Sorry,” he replied, though his faint smile betrayed his amusement.

The breakfast you’d made was far more diverse than anything he’d allowed himself to enjoy in recent memory, and the fact that you’d done it for him, without hesitation, left a lump in his throat.

When you asked about work, concern evident in your tone, it caught him off guard. People rarely worried about him—not like this.

“I have the day off,” he said, the words feeling foreign on his tongue.

The relief that washed over your face warmed something deep in him, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to bask in the quiet happiness of being cared for.

Nanami had expected to leave after breakfast, to thank you for your kindness and return to his carefully planned day. But when you invited him to the flower shop, there was no hesitation in his agreement.

He followed you through the streets, your easy presence beside him making the walk feel lighter than usual.

Inside the shop, he watched as you worked, your movements fluid and focused. The way you tended to each bloom with such care struck a chord in him. He could see the joy this place brought you, the peace it offered, and he envied it.

“Do you enjoy it?” he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop himself.

Your answer, so earnest and full of quiet passion, made his chest tighten. “It suits you,” he said, the words carrying more weight than he intended.

When you turned the question back on him, he hesitated. His work was… necessary. Vital. But enjoyable? That wasn’t a luxury he allowed himself to consider.

“No, it doesn’t,” he admitted, and for the first time in a long while, he felt the burden of his honesty.

But then you smiled, offering him a kindness he didn’t know he needed. “If you ever want to escape for a while, you’re always welcome here.”

Something about your words—so simple, so genuine—unraveled a part of him he’d kept tightly wrapped.

As he drove home, the quiet streets of the city stretching before him, Nanami replayed the events of the day in his mind.

The warmth of your apartment, the comfort of breakfast, the vibrant life of your shop—it all lingered with him, weaving itself into the cracks of his carefully constructed walls.

He thought about the way your eyes had lit up when you spoke about the flowers, the way you’d teased him over breakfast, and the way you’d smiled as he left the shop.

It was dangerous, the way you were beginning to occupy his thoughts. Dangerous, but inevitable.

Back in his own apartment, Nanami sat on the edge of his bed, his tie loosened and his shirt sleeves rolled up. The quiet was deafening, a clear contrast to the life and warmth of your presence.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and let out a long, slow breath.

He wasn’t sure what he was doing. You were bright and full of life, and he… wasn’t. His world was one of structure and discipline, of danger and calculated risk. He didn’t fit into your world of flowers and laughter, no matter how much he wanted to.

And yet, he couldn’t stay away.

You were drawing him in, piece by piece, and he was powerless to stop it.

Over the following days, Nanami found himself seeking out excuses to see you. A quick stop at the shop to buy flowers for an unnamed colleague. A walk past your apartment, hoping to catch a glimpse of you through the window.

Each encounter was fleeting, but it was enough to keep him grounded, to remind him of the possibility of something more.

And when he saw you smile, when you teased him about his stoic demeanor or offered him a cup of tea during a quiet moment, he felt something in his chest shift.

He didn’t know where this was heading, and the uncertainty of it all terrified him.

But for the first time in a long while, Nanami allowed himself to hope.

…………………. …………………. …………………. ………………….

You:

After seeing Nanami off at the flower shop, you took a moment to let out a deep breath. The morning had felt like a dream—calm, intimate, and full of unspoken feelings that you still weren’t sure how to fully navigate. But there was no time to dwell.

The shop had barely been open for thirty minutes when the first wave of customers arrived. Valentine’s Day was just behind you, but the orders kept coming. Between couples belatedly celebrating, birthdays, and anniversaries, the floral world rarely stopped.

You pushed through the busy hours, tying ribbons around bouquets, chatting with customers, and scribbling notes for delivery drivers. Your mind, however, wandered more often than you liked.

It wasn’t just the warmth of Nanami’s presence earlier or the comfort of sharing breakfast—it was how he looked at you. Thoughtful, curious, like he was always holding back something he wanted to say.

As you prepared a particularly elaborate arrangement of roses and lilies, you couldn’t help but wonder: What would he have said if you had pressed further?

Around noon, the foot traffic slowed enough for you to grab a quick bite. You slipped into the back room with a sandwich and a bottle of water, pulling out your phone as you sat down.

Your fingers hovered over Nanami’s name in your contacts.

Should I text him? You stared at the screen, debating. The last thing you wanted was to seem clingy. After all, you had just spent the morning together.

But then you remembered the quiet moments at breakfast, the way he’d helped you at the shop without a second thought. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to send something casual.

You typed out a quick message:

Hope you’re enjoying your day off. Thanks again for helping at the shop—it was nice having you around.

You hesitated for a moment before hitting send, then set the phone aside, focusing on finishing your sandwich.

The response came quicker than you expected:

Thank you. It was a nice change of pace. I hope your day isn’t too hectic.

A small smile tugged at your lips. You didn’t reply right away, letting his words linger.

The second half of the day passed in a blur. A large order for an upcoming wedding kept you on your feet, double-checking every detail to ensure perfection.

Every now and then, you caught yourself glancing at the door, half-expecting Nanami to walk through it again. The thought made you shake your head, scolding yourself for being so distracted.

He has his own life, you reminded yourself. I shouldn’t be so fixated.

But it was easier said than done.

By the time you flipped the sign to “Closed,” exhaustion had settled deep into your bones. The shop was quiet again, save for the hum of the refrigerator holding the pre-made bouquets.

You leaned against the counter, rubbing the back of your neck as you mentally ran through your to-do list for the next day. Despite the long hours, you felt an odd sense of peace.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling you from your thoughts.

Nanami’s name lit up the screen.

How’s the shop holding up?

You smiled, typing back: Busy, as always. You wouldn’t believe how many people are still celebrating Valentine’s Day.

His reply came almost immediately: You manage it well. It’s impressive.

The warmth in your chest returned, and you found yourself smiling at your phone like a lovestruck teenager.

Thanks, you wrote. You should come by again sometime—no flowers required.

There was a longer pause this time before his response came through: I’d like that.

After tidying up the shop and locking the doors, you made your way back to your apartment. The cool evening air was refreshing, and as you walked, your thoughts lingered on Nanami.

You could still picture the way he looked sitting at your table that morning, his usual stoicism softened by the calmness of the moment.

When you reached your apartment, you kicked off your shoes and sank onto the couch, pulling out your phone again. Part of you wanted to call him, to keep the conversation going, but you resisted the urge.

Instead, you curled up with a blanket, letting the quiet comfort of your home settle over you. Tomorrow would be another busy day, but for now, you let yourself bask in the memory of a morning that felt like the start of something new.

The morning started earlier than usual. The orders had piled up overnight—your email inbox was flooded with requests for white tulips, red roses, and daisies. You could tell it was going to be one of those days. Special occasions always brought an overwhelming wave of customers, but this… this felt like a tidal wave.

As you unlocked the shop, a line had already formed outside. You took a deep breath, rolled up your sleeves, and let the customers pour in.

“Do you have any more daisies?” one woman asked, clutching a card in her hand.

“White tulips—I need a dozen!” another man shouted from the back of the line.

You worked as quickly as your hands allowed, wrapping stems in tissue paper, tying ribbons, and scribbling notes for delivery orders. The bell above the door jingled incessantly, each chime adding another layer to the growing chaos.

There was no time to think, let alone breathe. Your phone buzzed in your apron pocket, but you ignored it.

“Next, please!” you called, not even looking up as the register chimed.

By mid-morning, the flowers were running out. The white tulips were almost gone, daisies were scarce, and the red roses—your best-seller—had dwindled to a few lonely stems.

You muttered under your breath as you tried to think of a solution. “Why didn’t I order more? What was I thinking?”

“Excuse me, miss,” someone said, pulling your attention back.

“Yes, sorry! What can I help you with?”

The customer gestured to the near-empty display. “Do you have any other options?”

You offered a tired smile. “I can put together a custom bouquet for you. Might not be exactly what you had in mind, but I’ll make it beautiful.

The customer agreed, and you set to work, trying to balance creativity with the dwindling stock.

Your phone buzzed again as you handed over another bouquet, but you didn’t have time to check it. You were too busy trying to keep up with the flow of customers.

Unbeknownst to you, the message was from Nanami:

Good morning. I hope today isn’t too stressful. Let me know if you need anything.

Lunch passed in a blur. You’d barely managed to grab a sip of water before the next wave of customers flooded in.

An older man smiled kindly at you as you rang up his purchase. “You’re doing a wonderful job, dear,” he said, noticing your flustered state.

“Thank you,” you replied, your voice strained but grateful.

As he left, the door jingled again, and another group of customers entered. You sighed, wiping your brow and steeling yourself for the next round.

By the late afternoon, you were running on fumes. The shop was nearly bare, the counters cluttered with scraps of ribbon, tissue paper, and discarded stems.

You leaned against the counter, staring at the mess. Can I really handle this on my own?

The thought lingered, heavy and unwelcome. You loved your shop—it was your dream—but days like this made you question everything.

Your phone buzzed once more, but you didn’t even glance at it. There just wasn’t time.

As the day wound down, the last customer left with the final bouquet of white tulips. You locked the door behind them, flipping the sign to “Closed” with a heavy sigh.

The shop was eerily quiet now, the chaos of the day replaced by an exhausted stillness. You slumped into a chair, finally pulling out your phone.

Nanami’s message stared back at you, and guilt twisted in your chest.

Good morning. I hope today isn’t too stressful. Let me know if you need anything.

You typed a quick reply: I’m so sorry for not replying earlier. The shop was insane today. I’ll tell you about it later.

Almost immediately, another message came through:

It’s okay. Did you eat today?

His concern made your chest ache. You hesitated before replying:

Barely. Just got a chance to sit down. How was your day off yesterday?

His response came just as fast: Relaxing. Let me know if you need help at the shop. I don’t mind lending a hand.

The idea of Nanami stepping into the chaos of your flower shop was almost laughable, but the offer warmed you.

Thank you, but I survived. Barely, you replied with a small smile.

After tidying up the shop, you headed home, your body aching from the nonstop day. You thought about Nanami’s messages as you walked, the quiet concern in his words staying with you.

When you finally reached your apartment, you sank onto the couch, too tired to even consider making dinner. Your mind wandered to him—his offer to help, the way he always seemed to check on you at just the right moments.

You didn’t reply again that night, but as you drifted off to sleep, you found yourself smiling.

Maybe tomorrow will be a little easier.

Plot twist, it wasn’t.

The next day started even worse than the last. The flowers you had left weren’t enough to meet the endless stream of demands. Customers poured in, asking for white tulips, roses, daisies—flowers you’d completely run out of.

“I’m sorry, we’re out of tulips for the week,” you explained to yet another disappointed customer.

The man in front of you sighed, shaking his head. “What kind of flower shop runs out of flowers?”

His words stung, though you tried not to let it show. “We’ve been overwhelmed with orders,” you said apologetically. “I’ll have more stock soon.”

The day dragged on, the shop feeling more like a battlefield. You had nothing left to offer but a few straggling carnations and a mismatched collection of filler greenery. By mid-afternoon, the pressure became unbearable.

With no stock and an aching head, you flipped the sign to “Closed” earlier than usual. The customers outside peered through the windows, confused, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

As the shop emptied, you leaned against the counter, staring at the empty display shelves. A deep sigh escaped your lips, and you rubbed your temples, feeling completely drained.

I can’t keep doing this, you thought. Your passion for flowers felt buried under the weight of endless demands and your inability to meet them.

Once the shop was locked up, you sat down at your desk and opened your laptop. The first thing you searched: What’s so special about this week?

The results immediately gave you your answer. It was international women’s Day. Flower sales had skyrocketed as people scrambled to celebrate the women in their lives.

You groaned, leaning back in your chair. “Of course, how in the world could I forget?”

With this new information, you placed a massive order with your supplier, making sure to stock up on the most requested flowers. You hoped it would be enough to handle the wave of customers tomorrow.

Your phone buzzed on the desk. It was a message from Nanami.

How was today? Did you survive the madness?

You hesitated before replying:

Barely. I had to close early because we ran out of flowers. It was horrible, Nanami.

His response came quickly:

You did what you could. Have you eaten yet?

The concern in his message tugged at your heart. You typed back:

Not yet. Just trying to figure out how to prepare for tomorrow.

There was no reply for a while, and you assumed he was busy. You didn’t dwell on it, trying to muster the energy to clean up the shop before heading home.

The bell above the shop door jingled, startling you.

“We’re closed,” you called out automatically, not bothering to look up.

“I know,” a familiar voice replied.

You turned to see Nanami standing in the doorway, holding a takeout bag in one hand and a bouquet of white tulips in the other. He looked as composed as ever, though his eyes held a softness that instantly eased your frazzled nerves.

“Nanami,” you said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “I figured you could use some company.”

Your gaze dropped to the bouquet in his hand, and your heart skipped a beat. “Are those…?”

“One of these is from the batch I bought earlier this week,” he said, offering you the bouquet. “I thought you might need a reminder of what you’re working so hard for.”

The gesture was so thoughtful it nearly brought tears to your eyes. You took the bouquet, cradling it in your hands.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

He placed the takeout bag on the counter. “I also brought food. I didn’t think you’d have time to cook.”

You smiled, the weight of the day lifting just slightly. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to,” he said simply.

You sat together in the small back room of the shop, unpacking the takeout containers. Nanami had brought your favorite comfort food, and as you ate, the tension from the day slowly faded away.

“I looked up why it’s been so busy,” you said between bites. “It’s international women’s Day. Everyone’s buying flowers to celebrate.”

Nanami nodded. “That explains the chaos.”

You sighed. “I should have been more prepared. It’s bad for business to close early.”

“You did what you could,” he said firmly. “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

The calm conviction in his voice made you pause. You realized how much you valued his reassurance, how much steadiness he brought to your life.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, meeting his gaze.

He gave a small nod, his expression softening. “You’re welcome.”

After dinner, you cleaned up together, the silence between you feeling warm and comfortable. As you placed the empty containers in the trash, you caught him watching you, his eyes thoughtful.

“What?” you asked, smiling despite yourself.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “You just look less tired now.”

You laughed softly. “That’s because of you.”

His lips twitched into a faint smile, and he glanced away, almost shyly.

The moment lingered, unspoken feelings hanging in the air. You wanted to say more, to express how much his support meant to you, but the words felt too heavy for the moment.

Instead, you reached for the bouquet he’d brought, holding it close. “These really mean a lot to me, Nanami. Thank you for reminding me why I love… this job.”

He nodded, his gaze meeting yours. “You don’t need a reminder. It’s clear how much you care.”

As Nanami stood by the door, ready to leave, something stopped him. He hesitated, his hand lingering on the handle as if he were caught between leaving and staying.

You tilted your head, watching him closely. “Nanami?”

He turned back to you, his expression unreadable but his eyes soft, warm. “Would you mind if I stayed a little longer?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Not at all,” you said quickly, trying to mask the excitement in your voice. “I was going to head home soon anyway. Maybe we can relax there?”

His lips quirked up slightly, the closest thing to a smile you’d seen from him all day. “That sounds nice.”

The ride to your apartment was quiet, but not awkward. The silence between you was familiar, comfortable. When you arrived, you kicked off your shoes and gestured for Nanami to make himself at home.

“I’ll grab us some water,” you said, heading to the kitchen.

When you returned, Nanami was sitting on the couch, his tie loosened, his posture more relaxed than usual. He looked around your apartment, taking in the small but cozy space.

“It suits you,” he said as you handed him a glass.

You blinked. “What does?”

“Your home,” he replied, his voice soft. “It’s warm.”

You sat beside him, closer than you might normally, emboldened by the comfort of the evening. “Thanks. It’s not much, but it’s mine.”

He nodded, taking a sip of water. The silence that followed was calm, the kind that didn’t need to be filled.

After a while, you reached for the remote, flicking on the TV to find something to watch. A random movie played in the background, its sounds blending into the hum of the room.

Nanami leaned back against the couch, his arm resting along the back of it, just shy of where your shoulder was. You turned to him, studying his profile. He seemed more at ease, his usual stoicism softening in the dim light of your apartment.

“You don’t let yourself relax much, do you?” you asked gently.

He glanced at you, his brows lifting slightly in surprise. “Not often,” he admitted.

“Why?”

He paused, considering his answer. “There’s always something to do, someone to help. It’s… hard to stop.”

You nodded, understanding his words but still feeling the urge to challenge them. “But you deserve rest too, Nanami. You can’t take care of everyone else if you don’t take care of yourself.”

He turned to you fully then, his gaze steady. “And what about you?” he asked. “You’ve been running yourself into the ground at the shop.”

You smiled wryly. “Touché. Maybe we both need to work on that.”

A small smile tugged at his lips, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest at the sight.

As the movie droned on in the background, you found yourselves leaning closer, the space between you shrinking with every passing moment.

“Thank you,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

“For what?”

“For today. For everything, really. You didn’t have to come by the shop, but you did. And it meant… more than I can say.”

He tilted his head, his expression softening further. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

Your eyes met, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. The warmth of his gaze, the quiet strength he exuded, drew you in. Before you knew it, your faces were inches apart, his breath mingling with yours.

His hand moved, almost hesitantly, brushing against yours. “This feels…”

“Right,” you finished, your voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in the softest of kisses. It was tentative at first, as if he were testing the waters, but when you responded, leaning into him, it deepened.

The kiss grew hungrier, more desperate, as though all the unspoken feelings between you had finally found their outlet. His hand moved to cup your cheek, his touch gentle but firm, while your fingers found their way into his hair.

You felt him exhale against your lips, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. The world outside ceased to exist; there was only him, his warmth, his strength, his presence overwhelming every sense.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed.

“This is…” he began, his voice low and breathless.

“Too much?” you asked, your own voice trembling.

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “Just… unexpected.”

You smiled softly, your hand still resting on his chest. “We can take it slow.”

He nodded, his eyes finally meeting yours again. “Slow sounds good.”

Despite the intensity of the moment, neither of you pushed further. Instead, you curled up beside him, letting the warmth of his presence soothe you. When the clock struck midnight, he reluctantly stood.

“I should go,” he said, though he made no move to leave right away.

You walked him to the door, your hand brushing against his as he slipped on his shoes. “Goodnight, Nanami,” you said, your voice soft.

“Goodnight,” he replied, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he finally stepped out into the cool night air.

The night had been unexpected, intense, and yet somehow perfect. As you closed the door behind him, your heart raced, a mix of exhilaration and nervousness coursing through you. Whatever was growing between you and Nanami, it felt undeniable—and you were ready to see where it might lead.

#jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk #nanami x y/n #nanami x you #nanami kento #slow burn #for you #fanfic

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tulitulii · 7 months ago

Text

Word count: 4.1k

(Love this series)

I’ll wait for you

……………….. ……………….. ……………….. ………………..

Chapter 3.

The memory of the almost-kiss lingered in the days that followed, an unspoken weight in every interaction. Nanami’s texts became slightly more frequent—simple messages about his day or questions about how business was going at the shop. It was subtle, but you noticed it.

Despite the awkwardness, there was a warmth in his words that hadn’t been there before. And while you tried to convince yourself you were imagining it, you couldn’t ignore the way your chest tightened every time his name lit up your phone.

One evening, just as you were closing up the shop, a familiar figure appeared in the doorway.

“Kento,” you said, unable to hide your surprise. “What are you doing here?”

He stepped inside, his hands in his pockets. “I was nearby and thought I’d stop by.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Nearby? Again?”

He offered a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It seems to be a habit.”

As the days turned into weeks, those small moments became more frequent. Nanami would stop by the shop after work, sometimes under the pretense of buying flowers, other times with no excuse at all.

You began sharing lunch breaks when his schedule allowed, sitting together on the small bench outside your shop with sandwiches or coffee between you.

“You work too hard,” you said one afternoon, watching as he carefully unwrapped his sandwich.

He glanced at you, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “So do you.”

“Touché,” you admitted, taking a sip of your coffee. “But at least I enjoy it. Do you?”

He was silent for a moment, his gaze drifting to the busy street in front of you. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “It’s necessary. That’s enough.”

You frowned, your heart aching at the weariness in his voice. “You deserve more than that, you know.”

He looked at you then, his expression unreadable. “Do I?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, meeting his gaze. “You do.”

Both us stayed silent, a comfortable silence, before we parted ways to go to work.

Friday night, you found yourself curled up on your couch, your favorite blanket draped over your lap. The week had been long, and you’d planned to spend the evening decompressing with takeout and your phone.

Just as you were about to press relax, your phone buzzed with a message.

Nanami: What are you up to?

You smiled, your fingers quickly typing a reply.

You: Just about to order some food. You?

His response came almost immediately.

Nanami: Working late. What are you ordering?

You: Something cheesy.

A pause. Then suddenly-

Nanami: Mind if I join?

Your heart skipped a beat.

You: I’ll order extra takeout.

Thirty minutes later, there was a knock at your door.

The second time you invited Nanami to your apartment, the mood was different. There was no wine this time, no carefully curated atmosphere of soft lighting and romantic undertones. Just two takeout bags sitting on your coffee table, the warm scent of burgers and fries filling the air.

You’d cleaned up before he arrived—more out of nervous habit than anything else—but as you sat across from him, you felt a pang of unease.

He seemed calmer tonight, the usual sharpness in his posture slightly softened. Yet, there was still a weight between you, an unspoken question lingering in the room.

The very spot where he sat now was where everything had come so close to unraveling just nights before.

“So,” you said, unwrapping your burger in an attempt to ease the tension, “not as fancy as Chinese takeout, but I figured this was a safe choice.”

Nanami looked at you, his lips twitching in a faint smile. “Safe is good.”

“Not the highest praise,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

He chuckled softly, taking a bite of his burger. “It’s perfect,” he said after a moment, his tone carrying more warmth than you’d expected.

The two of you ate in relative silence for a while, the sound of the wrappers crinkling and the occasional scrape of a fry against the paper filling the room. The quiet wasn’t uncomfortable exactly, but it wasn’t as easy as it usually was.

As you reached for another fry, you found yourself staring at him, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

“Do you ever think about that night?”

Nanami’s hand stilled halfway to his mouth, his brow furrowing slightly. “What night?”

You gave him a look, and he sighed, setting his food down. “You mean here. Last time.”

You nodded, suddenly feeling exposed. “Yeah. That night.”

He leaned back against the couch, his eyes fixed on a spot just above your shoulder. “I’ve thought about it,” he admitted, his voice low.

Your heart skipped a beat. “And?”

“And… I think it was a mistake,” he said, his words careful but firm.

You flinched, the words hitting harder than you’d expected. “A mistake?”

His gaze snapped to yours, and his expression softened. “Not because of you,” he clarified quickly. “Because of me. I wasn’t being fair.”

“Fair?” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“To either of us,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t ready. I don’t think I still am.”

The confession hung in the air between you, heavy and raw.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. “Then why did you come here tonight?”

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours. “Because I can’t seem to stay away,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The honesty in his words left you breathless, your chest tightening as a wave of emotions threatened to overwhelm you.

“I don’t understand you, Nanami,” you said finally, your voice trembling. “One moment, you’re distant. The next, you’re here, sitting on my couch like nothing ever happened.”

“I know,” he said quietly, his hands gripping his knees. “And I’m sorry. I know I’ve been… difficult.”

“Difficult?” you repeated with a humorless laugh. “Try impossible.”

He flinched at your tone, but instead of pulling away, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “You’re right,” he said. “I’ve been avoiding this. Avoiding you.”

“Why?” you demanded, your voice breaking. “If you don’t feel the same, just say it. Stop playing these games.”

“It’s not that simple,” he said, his voice sharper now, frustration bleeding into his tone.

“Then explain it to me,” you shot back, leaning forward. “Because I’m tired of guessing.”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, his jaw tight as he stared at the floor.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said finally, his voice barely audible. “I don’t know how to… be what you want me to be.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, the raw honesty that you rarely saw from him.

“I’m not asking you to be anything,” you said softly. “I just want you to be honest with me. With yourself.”

He looked up at you then, his eyes filled with a pain that made your chest tighten. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. “But I don’t want to lose you either.”

“Then stop pushing me away,” you said, your voice trembling. “Stop shutting me out every time things get hard.”

“I don’t mean to,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “But I—”

“You what?” you pressed, your heart pounding.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared of what this means. Of what I feel.”

His confession left you stunned, your mind racing as you tried to process his words.

“I’m scared too,” you admitted finally, your voice trembling. “But we can’t keep dancing around this, Nanami. We have to face it, even if it’s hard.”

He looked at you then, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and hope. “I don’t want to mess this up,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to mess us up.”

“Then don’t,” you said, your voice firm despite the tears welling in your eyes.

He reached out then, his hand covering yours. “I can’t promise I’ll get it right,” he said. “But I’ll try. I’ll wait, if that’s what you need.”

You nodded, a single tear slipping down your cheek. “I need time,” you said. “But I don’t want to lose you either.”

“You won’t,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against your hand. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

That night, as you watched him leave, the weight in your chest felt a little lighter.

The road ahead wasn’t clear, and there were still so many questions left unanswered. But for the first time, you felt like you were both on the same page, ready to face whatever came next together.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

The next few weeks were a test of patience for both of you. Nanami kept his promise, giving you space to figure out what you needed, what you felt. It wasn’t easy—there were days when you wanted to throw your phone across the room at the lack of communication, the silence that seemed to stretch between you both. But you reminded yourself it was better this way—one step at a time.

When you finally saw him again, it was just as unexpected as before.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and the shop was unusually quiet. You were finishing up some paperwork in the back when the bell above the door jingled.

“Hey,” you said, looking up as Nanami stepped inside, a hesitant smile on his face.

“Hey,” he replied, his gaze drifting around the shop as though seeing it for the first time.

“Looking for flowers?” you asked, not bothering to hide the hint of teasing in your voice.

He glanced at you, his lips quirking in amusement. “Actually, no. I… just wanted to see you.”

A warmth spread through your chest at his words, and you felt a shy smile tugging at your lips. “You could have called,” you said, your tone light despite the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

He hesitated, taking a step closer to the counter. “I wasn’t sure you’d answer.”

You set your pen down and crossed your arms, meeting his gaze. “Is this your way of checking in on me?”

“I guess it is,” he said quietly, his eyes flickering away from yours for a moment before coming back.

The silence stretched between you, the tension from your last conversation still lingering in the air. You took a deep breath, deciding it was time to address it head-on.

“Nanami,” you began, your voice steady despite the tremor in your hands, “I’ve missed you.”

His expression softened, and he stepped closer, his eyes locked on yours. “I’ve missed you too.”

“Then why did it take so long for you to come back?” you asked, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

He didn’t look away this time, his gaze steady on yours as he took another step closer. “Because I didn’t know what to say,” he admitted softly. “I still don’t.”

“Maybe you don’t have to say anything,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just show me.”

His eyes searched yours, the vulnerability there making your heart ache. “I want to,” he said, his voice barely a breath. “I just don’t know how.”

You leaned against the counter, your fingers tapping out a nervous rhythm on the wood. “We’ve been tiptoeing around this for weeks, Kento,” you said, your voice gentle but firm. “Why don’t we just… say it?”

He swallowed hard, his eyes locking with yours as he took a deep breath. “Because I don’t know if I can give you what you need,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion.

You felt the sting of his words, a mixture of hurt and hope rising in your chest. “But you’re trying,” you said softly. “And that’s all I want.”

“Is it enough?” he asked, his eyes searching yours for an answer.

“Yes,” you replied without hesitation. “For now, it is.”

The corners of his mouth lifted in a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That sounds… provisional.”

“Isn’t everything?” you countered, your voice barely a whisper.

His smile fell, and he looked away, his jaw clenching. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re settling.”

“Maybe I am,” you said softly, your heart in your throat. “But I’m okay with that—for now.”

He looked back at you then, his expression raw with emotion. “For now,” he repeated quietly.

“Yeah,” you said, reaching out to touch his arm. “For now.”

It was quiet again, the only sound the faint murmur of the street outside your shop. Nanami’s fingers tapped against the edge of the counter as he looked around, avoiding your gaze.

“I should go,” he said finally, his tone distant.

“Stay,” you said, your voice breaking through the silence. “Please.”

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, moving to stand closer to you. “Okay,” he said quietly, his eyes finally meeting yours. “Just for a little while.”

You smiled faintly, reaching out to brush your fingers against his. “That’s all I need.”

For a moment, it was just the two of you, standing there in silence, connected by the space between you.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled softly, his eyes distant as he looked past you. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rough. “It was at a party—your best friend’s.”

“Yeah,” you said softly, leaning against the counter, your fingers still brushing his. “That was the first time we really talked. Before that, we never did.”

“I remember,” he said, his voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place—regret, maybe.

“Why didn’t we?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before meeting your gaze. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Fear, I guess. I was always afraid of… something.”

“Of what?” you pressed, your heart pounding.

“Of being close to someone,” he said quietly, his eyes darkening. “Of letting someone in.”

You felt your throat tighten, a tear slipping down your cheek as you reached out to wipe it away. “Why now?” you asked, your voice breaking.

“Because I don’t want to lose you,” he said, his voice rough. “Because I care about you more than I thought I could.”

The confession hung in the air between you, heavy and raw.

“Why did it take this long for you to say it?” you asked, your voice breaking.

He looked at you, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t name—regret, hope, longing. “Because I didn’t know how,” he said finally. “But I’m learning.”

“Is that enough?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He took a step closer, his hand gently brushing against your cheek. “For now,” he said softly, his eyes searching yours.

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as his fingers brushed against your skin.

“Is that enough?” you repeated, your voice barely a whisper.

He leaned in slowly, his lips brushing against yours softly, just a whisper of a kiss that made your heart race. “For now,” he said, his voice barely a breath.

You leaned into him, your hands moving to rest on his shoulders as you kissed him back, slowly, carefully. The kiss was a promise—a promise that he would wait, that you would figure this out together.

When you pulled back, your foreheads pressed together, his breath warm against your lips.

“Okay?” he asked, his voice rough.

“Okay,” you said softly, your heart still pounding in your chest.

He leaned in again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling back. “We’ll figure it out,” he said, his voice steady.

“Together,” you replied, smiling faintly.

“Together,” he echoed, his fingers brushing yours before he finally pulled away.

“Don’t be a stranger.” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

He turned back to you, his eyes filled with a warmth that made your heart skip a beat. “I won’t,” he said softly, giving you a small, reassuring smile. “I promise.”

And with that, he left, the door closing softly behind him, leaving you with a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Over the next few weeks, things between you and Nanami shifted—more subtly than before. The moments of silence weren’t as awkward anymore, replaced by easy conversations about nothing and everything. You’d meet for lunch at your favorite cafe, talking over bowls of ramen or sushi, sharing stories of your days, and laughing at the little things that didn’t seem to matter to anyone else.

The tension from that night at your apartment lingered, but it wasn’t the same suffocating pressure—it felt lighter, something to work through rather than something to avoid. You found that when it felt right, Nanami would brush his fingers against yours, or slip his hand into yours under the table. It was his way of saying more than words ever could—showing you that he was there, that he cared, even when he couldn’t find the right words to express it.

One sunny afternoon, you found yourself at the small park near your place, sitting on a bench with ice cream cones melting between your fingers. The conversation was easy—discussing your favorite movies, comparing playlists on your phone. You were comfortable with him in a way you hadn’t been before—no pressure, just two people enjoying each other’s company.

“So, what’s your ideal day look like?” you asked between bites, the cool sweetness of the ice cream melting in your mouth.

Nanami glanced at you, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Not this?”

You laughed, shrugging. “I guess this isn’t bad.”

He hummed, nodding as he took a bite of his own ice cream. “I like days like this,” he admitted. “No rush, just being together.”

“Me too,” you replied, your fingers brushing against his as you reached for your napkin.

His hand covered yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Do you know what you want yet?” he asked, his voice low, a teasing smile on his lips.

“From what?” you replied, feigning innocence.

“From us,” he said, his eyes serious now. “Do you know what you want?”

You hesitated, thinking about all the times you’d questioned what was between you two—friends, more than friends, something more. “I don’t know,” you admitted finally. “I just know that I don’t want to lose you.”

His gaze softened, and he leaned over, pressing a light kiss to your forehead. “That’s enough for me,” he said quietly. “For now.”

As the weeks passed, you both began to communicate better—picking up on each other’s cues, learning how to listen when the words failed. Nanami wasn’t the type to express his feelings easily, and it took time for him to understand that actions could speak louder than words. You’d catch him watching you—long looks that seemed to linger, his fingers brushing against yours more often than not.

One Friday evening, you invited him over again—Chinese takeout and a movie. The tension between you was still there, the electricity that hummed under the surface, but now it was easier to ignore. You settled on the couch, surrounded by containers of food and a mountain of pillows.

“Pick a movie,” you said, handing him the remote as you stuffed your face with lo mein.

“Surprise me,” he replied, scrolling through the options without really looking.

You handed him a forkful of orange chicken, and he took it from your fingers with a raised eyebrow. “You know, I can feed myself.”

“Yeah, but this way I get to be close to you,” you said with a grin, ignoring the way your heart flipped in your chest.

He didn’t reply, just looked at you for a moment longer than necessary before focusing back on the screen. The movie was a forgettable romantic comedy, something you’d both agreed would be background noise, but tonight it felt different. The jokes were forced, the plot predictable, but it didn’t matter—the focus was on the man sitting beside you.

“Do you ever think we’re moving too fast?” Nanami asked suddenly, breaking the silence as he reached for a dumpling.

You hesitated, stirring your drink thoughtfully before answering. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

His gaze flicked over to you, a frown creasing his brow. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged, keeping your eyes on the TV screen. “We like each other, we spend a lot of time together… but it feels like we’re rushing.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he asked, his voice low.

You hesitated for a moment, chewing on your lip. “I don’t think so, but it feels… I don’t know, like I’m waiting for something.”

“Waiting for what?” he asked, his tone gentle.

“I’m not sure,” you replied, your fingers tracing patterns on the armrest of the couch. “For things to feel… right.”

Nanami leaned back against the couch, looking thoughtful. “I don’t want to rush you.”

“You’re not,” you replied quickly. “I’m just… trying to figure it out.”

“Take your time,” he said softly, his hand finding yours on the couch cushion. “I’ll be here when you are.”

It was on another evening at your apartment—this time with burgers and fries—that things took an unexpected turn. You’d been talking for hours, the conversation drifting from work to the future, to your shared love of movies. Nanami was relaxed, more at ease than he had been in a long time, and for a moment, it felt like you were just two people who happened to like each other.

As you dipped a fry into ketchup, you glanced over at him, his expression unreadable as he stared at his burger. “Is something on your mind?” you asked, your voice gentle.

He hesitated, chewing on his lip before looking up at you. “It’s just… I don’t know what this is between us.”

You put down your food, turning to face him fully. “What do you mean?”

He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “I feel like we’re getting somewhere, but then we… I don’t know, we stall.”

“Because we’re scared,” you said softly, your fingers curling around his. “Scared of saying the wrong thing.”

He nodded, his grip tightening on your hand. “I’m scared of messing this up,” he admitted, his voice low.

You reached out, brushing a hand against his cheek. “That’s not going to happen.”

“How can you be so sure?” he asked, his eyes searching yours.

“Because I’m not ready to let you go,” you replied softly, your thumb brushing against his lips. “And neither are you.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, his hand squeezing yours tightly. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”

“Then let’s be honest with each other,” you said, your voice steady. “About how we feel, about what we want.”

He nodded, his eyes opening as he looked at you. “What if I mess up?”

“Then we try again,” you said softly. “I’ll always be here for you.”

“Even if it takes forever?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

You smiled, leaning in to brush your lips against his. “Forever is a long time,” you said, your voice barely a breath. “But I think we can figure it out.”

The next kiss was slower, more deliberate—his lips brushing against yours with just the right amount of pressure. When he pulled back, there was a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“I’m still not ready to say it,” he admitted quietly, his forehead against yours. “But I think I’m getting closer.”

“That’s okay,” you replied, your voice a whisper. “I’ll wait for you.”

“Thank you,” he said, his lips brushing yours again before pulling back completely.

As you sat on the couch later that night, Nanami’s fingers twined with yours, the two of you quietly watching the stars through the window. There was an unspoken understanding between you now—an acceptance that neither of you was ready for a grand declaration of love, but that you were building something real, something strong.

“Maybe we’re more alike than we thought,” he said softly, his eyes on the night sky.

“How so?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

“We both need time,” he replied, squeezing your hand. “To figure things out.”

You nodded, leaning into him slightly. “Maybe that’s why we work.”

“Maybe,” he said, his voice low as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Maybe that’s enough for now.”

You stayed like that for a long while, the silence comfortable, the only sounds the distant hum of the city and the occasional laugh from a neighbor’s apartment. As the night wore on, you found yourself looking forward to what came next—whatever that might be.

For now, you were content with the knowledge that you were growing closer to Nanami, learning how to communicate better, and building something real—slowly, steadily, together.

#jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk #nanami x y/n #nanami x you #nanami kento #for you #fanfic

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tulitulii · 7 months ago

Text

Word count: 3.5k

(I wrote this as soon as I got done with chapter one, ughhh this is so fun to do. I love writing ab my man!)

Sharing Tension

………………………………………………………………………………

Chapter 2.

For a moment, silence hung in the flower shop, thick with the weight of unspoken emotions. Nanami lingered near the counter, his hand still brushing the petals of the tulip, while you stood a few steps away, clutching the edge of the table as if it could steady you.

“Couldn’t stay away?” you repeated softly, your heart fluttering at his words.

He exhaled, his lips twitching as though he wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words. “It’s peaceful here,” he said finally, avoiding your gaze. “The kind of quiet I don’t get in my day-to-day.”

Your chest tightened, both at his admission and at how carefully he seemed to choose his words. You could tell he wasn’t used to opening up like this, and it made his presence feel even more significant.

“Well,” you said after a beat, forcing a smile, “you’re always welcome here, Nanami. You know that.”

He looked at you then, his gaze steady and warm, and something unspoken passed between you. “Thank you,” he said simply.

That night set a pattern neither of you had planned.

The next day, around lunchtime, Nanami texted you—a short, practical message that felt so distinctly him it made you smile.

Nanami: Are you free for lunch?

You: Depends.. Is this a formal invitation? ;)

Nanami: I suppose it is.

By the time you’d locked up the shop and walked down to the small café near your street, he was already waiting at a table, sipping a coffee and looking out the window. His posture was relaxed but alert, his tie slightly loosened in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

The first “lunch date” was… normal, almost painfully so. You talked about work, shared small anecdotes, and laughed lightly at each other’s stories. But there was an ease between you that hadn’t been there before, a subtle shift in the way his eyes softened when he looked at you or the way your shoulders relaxed when he spoke.

From then on, lunch became a regular thing.

Over the next few weeks, your conversations grew deeper, your interactions more personal. Nanami, ever the composed and reserved man, began to open up in ways that surprised even him.

One afternoon, as you picked at your salad and he carefully ate his sandwich, you leaned forward with a curious smile. “So, Nanami, tell me something surprising about you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Surprising?”

“Yes,” you said, grinning. “Something I wouldn’t expect.”

He thought for a moment, his expression unreadable. “I bake.”

You blinked. “You bake?”

“Yes,” he said, deadpan. “Bread, mostly. It’s a precise process, which I appreciate. But I’ve also tried pastries.”

“Nanami Kento, the bread maker,” you teased, laughing softly. “Now that is surprising.”

His lips quirked in what might’ve been the faintest smile. “Your turn,” he said, setting down his coffee.

“Me?”

“Yes. Tell me something surprising about you.”

You tapped your chin thoughtfully. “Hmm… Oh! I’ve always wanted to learn how to scuba dive. But I’m terrified of open water, so that’s probably not going to happen.”

His brow furrowed slightly, and you swore there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “That’s… an interesting contradiction.”

“Isn’t it?” you said, laughing again.

Moments like this became more frequent. Slowly, you found yourselves sharing pieces of your lives, your pasts, and your dreams. He told you about his years in salaryman purgatory, about the decision to leave and pursue a career that actually meant something. You told him about how you’d stumbled into the flower shop business and fallen in love with it, despite the long hours and unpredictable customers.

Despite the growing closeness, there was something neither of you dared to address.

The way his hand would linger just a moment too long when he handed you a coffee. The way your laughter seemed to draw his gaze, as if he couldn’t help but watch you. The way you found yourself checking your reflection in the mirror before meeting him for lunch, or how he would smooth his tie and clear his throat nervously when you arrived.

Neither of you acknowledged it, though. Instead, you continued your routine—coffee, sandwiches, laughter, and conversation that stretched far longer than either of you planned.

One afternoon, as you sat together on a park bench near the café, the topic of relationships came up—entirely by accident.

“So,” you asked, trying to sound casual, “have you ever… been in love?”

Nanami’s expression shifted, his gaze distant for a moment before he answered. “I thought I was,” he said quietly. “But looking back, I don’t think it was real. It was… convenient.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his tone. “That must’ve been hard.”

“It was,” he admitted. “But I’ve come to terms with it.”

“What about now?” you asked softly. “Do you think you’ll ever… you know, try again?”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering to yours for a brief moment before looking away. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “Maybe. If the right person came along.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you quickly masked your reaction with a smile. “Well, whoever they are, they’d be lucky to have you.”

He looked at you then, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, the air between you shifted again. But before either of you could say anything, his phone buzzed, breaking the moment.

As the weeks went on, you settled into a rhythm that felt both familiar and new. You spent your lunches together, your evenings sometimes punctuated by a text from him asking how your day had gone.

One evening, he surprised you by stopping by the shop again, this time with a small bag of fresh pastries.

“For you,” he said, setting them on the counter.

You raised an eyebrow, peeking inside. “Nanami… did you bake these?”

He cleared his throat, looking almost embarrassed. “I thought you might like them.”

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. “Thank you. That’s… really sweet.”

Moments like these made it harder to ignore the feelings growing between you. But you both seemed content to exist in this undefined space—a friendship that felt like more but wasn’t.

It was a nice balance, one neither of you seemed ready to tip.

But as the days turned into weeks, one thing became clear: whatever this was, it was something neither of you wanted to let go of.

Lunches and occasional late-evening visits to the flower shop had become a comfortable part of your routine, a rhythm neither of you acknowledged out loud but both had grown to expect. For you, these moments with Nanami were a brief escape from the chaos of the shop and the dullness of your evenings alone. For him, they were… something else. Something he didn’t want to name just yet.

But despite the growing familiarity between you, there was a tension neither of you seemed willing to break.

Another Unexpected Visit..

It was late one Friday evening, and you were just finishing up with a particularly busy day. The shop had been bustling with last-minute orders for anniversary bouquets and early spring weddings, and now the quiet hum of the place felt like a reward for your hard work.

You were arranging a leftover bundle of roses and peonies when the bell above the door chimed.

“Sorry, we’re clo—” You stopped mid-sentence when you saw Nanami standing there, his usual beige trench coat folded neatly over his arm, his tie slightly loosened as though he’d just finished a long day.

He gave you a faint smile, one that seemed almost shy. “I was in the neighborhood,” he said again, and this time, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You really need to find a better excuse,” you teased, wiping your hands on your apron.

He shrugged, stepping further inside. “I thought you might still be here.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” you said, gesturing toward the half-finished arrangement on the counter. “It’s been a busy day.”

“Valentine’s season spillover?” he guessed, his eyes briefly scanning the room.

“Something like that.” You leaned against the counter, watching as he moved closer. “What about you? Long day at work?”

“As always,” he said, his tone wry.

For a moment, the two of you simply stood there, the quiet of the shop wrapping around you both. There was something about having him there, in the soft light of the shop, that felt… safe.

“Can I help?” he asked suddenly, nodding toward the flowers.

You blinked. “Help? You?”

“I’ve been told I have a steady hand,” he said, his lips quirking in what might’ve been the faintest hint of a smile.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I’m not sure the world is ready for Nanami Kento, the florist.”

“Probably not,” he agreed. But he didn’t leave, instead taking a seat on one of the stools near the counter.

“Stay, then,” you said, your tone light. “Keep me company while I finish up.”

As you worked, the conversation flowed easily, as it always did with him. He asked about your day, your customers, and the wedding bouquets you were preparing for next week. You asked about his work, careful to keep the questions light, knowing how heavy his days could be.

At one point, as you were trimming the stems of the roses, he leaned forward slightly. “Do you ever get tired of it?”

“Of what?” you asked, glancing up at him.

“The shop. Flowers. All of this.”

You paused, considering his question. “Not really,” you said after a moment. “It’s exhausting sometimes, sure, but it’s also… comforting. Flowers make people happy. Even on their worst days, they can look at a bouquet and feel a little better. That’s worth the effort.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. “That’s a good way to look at it.”

“What about you?” you asked, setting down the scissors. “Do you ever get tired of your work?”

He hesitated, his fingers twitching slightly on the counter. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But it’s necessary.”

“That doesn’t mean it has to be your whole life,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his.

He didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes said more than words could.

After that night, things began to change.

Nanami started showing up more often—not just for lunches or late-night visits, but during the quiet moments of your day. He’d stop by with coffee or pastries, sometimes lingering for a few minutes, other times staying longer, helping you restock shelves or rearrange displays.

“Do you ever take a day off?” you teased one afternoon as he set down two cups of coffee on the counter.

“Do you?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow.

“Fair point,” you said with a laugh, taking a sip of your drink.

Your conversations grew more personal, your moments together more intimate in their simplicity. He told you about his childhood, his years as a salaryman, and the quiet mornings he spent reading before the rest of the world woke up. You told him about your family, your dreams of traveling someday, and the nights you spent sketching floral arrangements in your notebook.

Despite the growing closeness, you both maintained the unspoken boundary of friendship. Neither of you wanted to risk shattering the fragile balance you’d built, and yet…

There were moments when the line blurred.

Like the time he showed up unannounced with dinner, insisting you needed to eat something more substantial than the crackers you’d been munching on all day. Or the time you caught him lingering a little too long near the tulips, his expression soft in a way that made your heart ache.

And then there was the time he accidentally brushed your hand while reaching for a vase, his fingers lingering just long enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, pulling his hand back.

“It’s fine,” you said, your voice a little too breathless.

Moments like that left you wondering if he felt it too—the subtle pull, the quiet yearning that seemed to fill the space between you.

One evening, as you were closing up the shop, you found Nanami waiting outside, his hands in his pockets and a faintly nervous expression on his face.

“Everything okay?” you asked, unlocking the door to let him in.

“Yes,” he said, though his tone was unusually hesitant. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?”

He didn’t answer right away, instead glancing around the shop as though searching for the right words. “I’ve been thinking,” he said finally, his voice low. “About this. About us.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Us?”

He met your gaze, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of uncertainty in his usually steady eyes. “I don’t know what this is,” he admitted. “But it’s… important to me.”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening at his words. “It’s important to me too,” you said softly.

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable, the kind that spoke volumes without a single word.

“I don’t want to ruin this,” he said finally. “Whatever it is.”

“You won’t,” you said, stepping closer. “But you have to stop overthinking it, Kento. Sometimes, it’s okay to just… feel.”

He looked at you for a long moment, his gaze searching, and then he nodded slowly. “I’ll try,” he said.

It wasn’t a declaration or a promise, but it was enough for now.

In the days that followed, your moments together took on a new kind of warmth. You still weren’t sure what you were to each other—friends, something more, something less—but for now, it didn’t matter.

You shared lunches, laughter, and quiet evenings in the shop. And though neither of you said it out loud, the feelings lingering beneath the surface grew stronger with each passing day.

For now, it was enough to simply be together, to exist in this space you’d carved out for yourselves. And maybe, just maybe, that was the start of something neither of you could ignore much longer.

The moon shines in the sky and the wind blows, the sound soothing and calm.

It was a quiet evening. After a long day at the shop, you’d slipped into a pair of comfortable lounge pants and a worn sweater, intending to wind down with a book and a glass of wine. The soft hum of the city outside your apartment was a familiar backdrop, and the solitude felt soothing.

Then came the knock on your door.

You frowned, glancing at the clock. It was nearly 10 PM. You weren’t expecting anyone, and late-night visitors weren’t exactly common. Setting your book aside, you padded toward the door, brushing stray strands of hair out of your face.

When you opened it, your breath caught slightly.

“Kento,” you said, surprised. He stood there in his usual button-up, though his tie was undone, and his sleeves were rolled to his elbows. In one hand, he carried a plastic bag with the unmistakable aroma of Chinese takeout.

“I was in the neighborhood,” he said, his tone casual, but his eyes gave away something deeper. “Thought you might not have eaten yet.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “And you just happened to have takeout with you?”

He shrugged, a faint smile of his own appearing. “I had extra.”

You stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in. “Well, it’s hard to say no to free food.”

The two of you settled on the floor around your coffee table, the cartons of fried rice, dumplings, and noodles spread between you like a late-night feast.

“You eat like this often?” you teased, watching as he neatly unpacked chopsticks and napkins.

“Not as often as I should,” he replied. “Work keeps me busy.”

“Doesn’t it always?” you said with a knowing smile.

“And you?” he asked, looking up from his carton of noodles. “Still running yourself ragged at the shop?”

“Only on the days that end in ‘Y,’” you quipped.

His lips quirked into a rare, genuine smile. “Touché.”

The conversation flowed as easily as it always did with him, touching on everything from work to the absurd antics of some of your customers. The food was delicious, but the real highlight of the evening was the company.

At some point, you’d turned on a movie, a romantic comedy you’d seen a dozen times before. It was mostly background noise, a filler for the occasional lulls in conversation.

Nanami glanced at the screen, his expression mildly amused. “This is what you watch in your downtime?”

“Don’t judge,” you said, grinning. “Sometimes I need something lighthearted.”

“No plot twists, no heartbreak,” he said thoughtfully, as if trying to understand.

“Exactly,” you said. “It’s safe.”

“Safe,” he echoed, and there was something in his tone—a faint trace of doubt, maybe even longing—that made you pause.

You looked at him, studying his profile in the dim light. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as someone who played it safe either,” you said lightly.

He gave you a sidelong glance, his lips curving faintly. “And yet, here I am, eating takeout and watching a romantic comedy.”

“Branching out,” you teased, laughing softly.

“Or just keeping you company,” he countered, his tone even.

Your laughter faded, the weight of his words settling between you.

The Wine Brings It Out…

As the movie played on, you poured two glasses of red wine, handing one to Nanami as you returned to the couch. The rich aroma mixed with the lingering scent of soy sauce and spices, creating a strangely intimate atmosphere.

“So,” you said, settling back with your glass, “if you weren’t working long hours and saving people, what would you do with your life?”

He considered your question, his fingers lightly tracing the rim of his glass. “Travel, maybe. See places I’ve never had time to.”

“Where would you go first?”

“Somewhere quiet,” he said. “Maybe a small town in Europe. No deadlines, no responsibilities.”

“Sounds nice,” you murmured, your mind painting the image of him walking through cobblestone streets or sipping coffee at a quaint café.

“And you?” he asked, his gaze steady. “What would you do if you weren’t running the shop?”

You laughed softly. “Travel too, probably. But I think I’d want to go somewhere lively—festivals, markets, that sort of thing.”

“You like chaos,” he observed, his tone teasing.

“Maybe a little,” you admitted. “But it’s the good kind of chaos, you know? Full of life and color.”

“Opposite of me, then,” he said, his lips quirking.

You nudged him lightly with your elbow. “I wouldn’t say that.”

The Air Shifts..

As the wine disappeared and the movie played on, the conversation grew softer, the pauses between your words growing heavier.

“You’re different than I expected,” you said suddenly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

He raised an eyebrow, his glass halfway to his lips. “How so?”

“I don’t know,” you said, your cheeks warming slightly. “You’re so serious at first glance, but then… you’re not. Not entirely.”

He chuckled softly, a low sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “I could say the same about you.”

“Oh?” you asked, leaning slightly toward him.

“You come across as carefree,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “But there’s a lot more to you than that.”

The way he said it made your heart skip a beat, the intensity of his gaze leaving you momentarily breathless.

You were close now, closer than you realized, and the air between you seemed to hum with something unspoken.

It happened almost without thought.

Nanami leaned in slightly, his eyes flickering to your lips for the briefest of moments before meeting your gaze again. You felt your breath hitch, your heart pounding in your chest as his face drew closer.

You didn’t move away.

The faint brush of his lips against yours was like an electric current, a fleeting, tentative touch that left you both frozen in place.

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, the movie, the wine, the takeout—all of it fading into the background.

But then he pulled back, his jaw tight and his expression conflicted.

“We shouldn’t,” he said quietly, his voice strained.

You nodded, though your heart ached at the loss of his warmth. “You’re right.”

The tension in the room was almost unbearable as he stood, smoothing the front of his shirt.

“I should go,” he said, not meeting your eyes.

“Okay,” you said softly, watching as he walked to the door.

He paused for a moment, his hand on the handle. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Kento,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

The Next Morning was torture.

The awkwardness was immediate and undeniable.

When Nanami texted you the next morning—a simple “Good morning” accompanied by a photo of his coffee—you felt a strange mix of relief and discomfort.

“Morning,” you replied, hesitating before adding, “Thanks for last night.”

His response was short but polite. “Anytime.”

You couldn’t tell if the tension from the night before lingered in his words or if you were imagining it. Either way, it left you feeling restless, the memory of his almost-kiss playing on a loop in your mind.

At the shop, you found yourself glancing at the door more often than usual, half-hoping and half-dreading that he might walk through it.

When he finally did, the air between you felt charged, the unspoken feelings and unresolved tension hanging over you like a storm cloud.

But despite the awkwardness, the connection between you remained, fragile but unbroken.

For now, that was enough.

#jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanami x y/n #nanami x you #nanami kento #for you #fanfic

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tulitulii · 7 months ago

Text

Word count: 3k

(This is my first fanfic I’ve ever written, so please be kind T-T. I would highly appreciate some feedback on what I did well on and what I could do better on!)

Anywho, enjoy!

Blooming Under the Moonlight

……………….. ……………….. ……………….. ………………..

Chapter 1.

The soft glow of string lights dances across the backyard, their golden hue reflecting off wine glasses and cheerful faces. Your best friend’s birthday party is in full swing, the hum of conversation mingling with faint music in the background. A soft breeze carries the scent of blooming jasmine and freshly baked pastries, and yet, as much as you try to enjoy the evening, you find yourself nervously tugging at your dress.

You shouldn’t feel nervous. After all, these are your closest friends, the people who’ve seen you at your best and worst. But tonight is different. Tonight, he’s here.

Kento Nanami.

He’s standing across the yard, perfectly at ease in a tailored navy blazer, his tie slightly loosened in a rare show of casualness. His broad shoulders seem to carry the weight of the world, yet his expression is as calm and collected as ever. He’s engaged in a quiet conversation with your best friend’s husband—his cousin—but his eyes flicker across the party, scanning the crowd. For a brief, electrifying moment, they meet yours.

You glance away, heart pounding, and busy yourself with the dessert table, pretending to deliberate between a slice of chocolate cake and a macaron. In truth, you’re buying time to gather your courage.

You’ve known Kento for years, but only through the briefest interactions. Family gatherings, mutual friends’ events, and chance encounters at the grocery store have formed the fabric of your acquaintance. You’ve always admired his quiet strength and unfaltering politeness, but the two of you had never ventured beyond pleasantries. You told yourself it was because of your busy schedules—you with your flower shop and him with his work—but deep down, you wonder if it’s because neither of you dared to take that first step.

“Chocolate cake’s the better choice,” a deep voice cuts through your thoughts, making you jump slightly.

You look up to see Nanami standing beside you, his gaze steady and warm.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you stammer, feeling foolish.

He raises an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You seemed deep in thought. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, it’s fine,” you reply quickly, cursing yourself for how flustered you sound. “I was just… deciding.” You gesture weakly at the table.

Nanami glances at the cake, then back at you. “A big decision, I’m sure.”

You can’t help but laugh at his dry tone, and for the first time that evening, the tension in your chest eases.

“You always know how to make things sound so serious,” you tease, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“I suppose it’s a habit,” he replies. “Though, in my defense, cake is a very serious matter.”

The two of you share a quiet laugh, and for a moment, the bustling party seems to fade into the background.

“I heard you’ve been busy with your shop,” he says after a pause, his voice thoughtful.

Your brows lift in surprise. “You… heard about that?”

“Your best friend likes to brag about you,” he admits, his gaze meeting yours. “She mentioned you’ve been putting in extra hours lately.”

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. “It’s wedding season, so business has been crazy. But I can’t complain—it’s nice to see people happy, you know?”

Nanami nods, his expression softening. “I imagine it must be rewarding, creating something beautiful for others.”

His words catch you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. There’s a sincerity in his tone, a genuine interest that makes your heart ache in a way you’re not used to.

“Yeah,” you say softly, “it is.”

The moment stretches, and you find yourself wishing it could last longer. But before you can think of something else to say, someone calls Nanami’s name from across the yard.

He glances over his shoulder, his brow furrowing slightly. “I should go…”

You nod, hiding your disappointment. “Of course. Don’t let me keep you.”

He hesitates, his gaze lingering on you for a beat too long. “Maybe we can talk more later?”

The question sends a flutter through your chest, and you nod again, this time with a small smile. “I’d like that.”

As he walks away, you can’t help but watch him, your mind racing with thoughts of what could be.

The rest of the evening passed in a haze of laughter and chatter, yet your mind stayed tethered to the quiet moment you shared with Nanami. Despite the warmth of the party and the comfort of familiar faces, you couldn’t shake the way his words lingered, how his gaze seemed to hold more than he was willing to say.

You caught sight of him occasionally as the night went on, always across the room or deep in conversation with someone else. And though he never approached you again, his gaze would find yours, fleeting and unspoken. Each time your eyes met, your breath hitched, as if a cord had tied the two of you together across the distance.

But it was just a look. Nothing more.

When the party finally wound down and you made your way home, the silence of your apartment was deafening. You sat on the edge of your bed, replaying the evening in your mind. What had he meant by “talk more later”? Was it just polite conversation, or had he meant it?

It didn’t matter. Whatever chance there had been slipped away as the days turned into weeks, and there was no call, no text, no surprise meeting to follow.

Weeks go by, I cant stop thinking about him. The only true conversation we shared.

Weeks Later..

It was a Tuesday afternoon when you found yourself surrounded by the familiar scents of fresh blooms and earthy stems. Business was steady but not overwhelming, giving you a chance to enjoy the quiet rhythm of arranging bouquets and tending to the shop.

The bell above the door jingled, signaling a customer. You glanced up from the counter, and your breath caught in your throat.

Him.

He stood in the doorway, framed by the soft light of the shop’s interior, his expression unreadable as his gaze swept the room and landed on you. For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you taut with unspoken words.

Then he stepped forward, his movements deliberate and calm. “Good afternoon,” he said, his deep voice cutting through the quiet.

You swallowed hard, your hands instinctively smoothing your apron. “Good afternoon. Can I help you?”

His gaze softened, and he looked almost hesitant. “I need to buy some flowers. White tulips, if you have them.”

White tulips. The request struck you as unusual—not a common choice for someone unfamiliar with flowers. White tulips symbolized forgiveness and renewal, a gesture of peace or a fresh start.

“For someone special?” you asked before you could stop yourself, trying to mask your curiosity with a professional tone.

His lips twitched into the faintest smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Something like that.”

You nodded, stepping out from behind the counter to guide him toward the display of tulips near the window. The sunlight illuminated the delicate petals, their crisp white color almost glowing.

“These just came in this morning,” you said, reaching for a pair of scissors to trim a few stems. “How many would you like?”

“Five,” he replied, his voice thoughtful.

As you carefully selected the stems, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. He seemed different here, out of place yet somehow at ease among the blooms. His usual air of stoicism was softened, replaced by something almost vulnerable.

“Do you… buy flowers often?” you asked, trying to fill the silence.

“Not often,” he admitted. “But I thought it was time.”

There was a weight to his words that you didn’t fully understand, but you chose not to press further. Instead, you focused on wrapping the flowers in soft tissue paper and securing them with a ribbon.

When you handed him the bouquet, his fingers brushed against yours, sending a small jolt up your arm.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his gaze meeting yours once more.

You hesitated, your curiosity finally outweighing your caution. “Nanami… is everything okay?”

His expression flickered, a brief crack in his composed exterior. “It will be,” he said after a pause, his voice low.

You wanted to ask more, to bridge the gap that had always existed between you, but before you could find the words, he pulled out his wallet and paid for the flowers.

As he turned to leave, he paused at the door, glancing back at you with something unreadable in his eyes.

“I’ll see you around,” he said, his tone almost a promise.

And then he was gone, leaving you standing in the quiet shop, the faint scent of tulips lingering in the air.

The visit to your shop stayed with you longer than you wanted to admit. For days after, you found yourself glancing at the door whenever the bell jingled, half-expecting—and half-hoping—that Nanami would walk in again. But he didn’t.

Still, the memory of him lingered, and you caught yourself thinking about the way his fingers brushed against yours or the quiet way he’d said, “I’ll see you around.” You hated the way your heart quickened at the thought.

You reminded yourself that Nanami had always been polite, reserved, and nothing more. He wasn’t the type to flirt or lead anyone on. You were imagining things. Surely, he didn’t mean anything by his lingering glances at the party or the quiet weight of his words in the shop.

But no matter how much you tried to rationalize it, the seeds of something had taken root in your heart, and you couldn’t stop it from growing.

Weeks Later… Another Encounter

It wasn’t until nearly a month later that you saw him again.

The day was brisk, the chill of autumn seeping into the air as you carried a delivery order to a nearby office building. The bouquet of bright chrysanthemums and eucalyptus branches was almost as large as you were, and you had to balance it carefully as you pushed through the glass doors of the lobby.

“Do you need help with that?”

The deep, familiar voice sent a jolt through you, and you looked up to see Nanami standing near the receptionist’s desk, his usual composed expression in place.

“Oh! Nanami,” you stammered, trying to regain your balance as the bouquet tilted dangerously to one side. “I’m fine, really.”

He stepped forward anyway, steadying the arrangement with one hand. His fingers brushed yours again—brief, accidental, but enough to send your thoughts spiraling.

“This is quite the delivery,” he remarked, his tone neutral as he adjusted the bouquet.

“Wedding season,” you explained, forcing a smile. “This one’s for a big client.”

He nodded, his gaze flickering briefly to yours. There was something distant about his expression, as though his mind was elsewhere.

You wished he would say more, ask how you’d been or tell you why he was here, but instead, he stepped back and offered a polite nod. “Good luck with your delivery.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving you standing in the middle of the lobby with your chest tightening in disappointment.

Overtime.

As the weeks passed, you couldn’t deny the truth any longer: you had a crush on Kento Nanami.

It wasn’t just his quiet strength or the way his voice seemed to wrap around you like a warm blanket. It was the way he carried himself, the kindness hidden beneath his stoic exterior, the rare moments when his composure cracked just enough to let you glimpse the man underneath.

But no matter how much you hoped, no matter how many times you replayed your interactions in your mind, there was no sign that he felt the same.

Nanami was courteous and polite when you crossed paths, but that was all. He never lingered, never sought you out, never gave any indication that he saw you as more than a passing acquaintance.

It hurt, more than you wanted to admit.

Nanami didn’t notice it at first. Or maybe he did, but he didn’t want to.

He’d always admired your work ethic, your warmth, and the way you seemed to bring life to everything you touched. But admiration wasn’t love, and Nanami was a man who valued practicality over sentiment.

He told himself that he didn’t have time for distractions, not with the weight of his responsibilities bearing down on him. And even if he did, what could he possibly offer someone like you? You deserved more than fleeting moments and half-hearted promises.

So, he kept his distance.

But the more he tried to ignore it, the more he found himself thinking about you.

He thought about the way your face lit up when you spoke about your work, the way your hands moved so deftly when arranging flowers, and the way you looked at him—not with expectation or judgment, but with a quiet kindness that unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

It was a slow realization, creeping up on him like the changing of the seasons. By the time he understood the truth, it was too late to deny it.

One evening, as you were closing up the shop, the bell above the door jingled again.

You looked up, expecting another last-minute customer, and froze when you saw Nanami standing there, a faintly awkward expression on his face.

“Nanami,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated for a moment, then stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him. “I was in the neighborhood,” he said, his tone a little too casual to be entirely believable.

You raised an eyebrow. “In the neighborhood? At eight o’clock at night?”

His lips twitched into a faint smile, and for the first time, you noticed how tired he looked—the faint lines around his eyes, the weight in his shoulders.

“I thought I’d stop by,” he said simply.

You nodded, unsure of what to say. The air between you felt heavier than usual, charged with something unspoken.

As he walked toward the counter, his gaze swept over the shop, lingering on the blooms you’d arranged for the next day’s deliveries. He reached out, brushing his fingers against a single white tulip in one of the vases.

“Still my favorite,” he said quietly.

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you forgot how to speak.

“Nanami,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “Why are you really here?”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and for the first time, you saw something in his eyes that you hadn’t dared to hope for: vulnerability.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice low. “But I couldn’t stay away.”

#jjk nanami #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk #for you #fanfic #nanami x y/n #nanami x reader #nanami kento #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami x you #nanami fluff

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