Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The city is buzzing, as usual. It’s a Tuesday morning, and everyone’s in a hurry to get somewhere.

So are you. But not for work, just an interview.

An interview at one of the biggest organizations in the country, one that handles health authority functions and international trade. A powerhouse, slowly expanding overseas.

Ever since your field placement here in your second year, you’ve dreamed of working for this company. You studied for years, finished your Master’s, collected the right certifications, and here you are, walking through their long, polished hallway.

Abstract paintings line the walls. They fit perfectly with the building’s atmosphere.

Confusing.
Intimidating.

You finally arrive at the interview room. To your surprise, only eight others are there. They all look sharp, dressed to impress, which instantly makes you feel a little self-conscious. You glance down at your wide-leg dress pants and bodysuit. Tugging your cardigan straight, you sit up, trying to look more confident.

Around you, three girls,who look like they stepped out of a magazine, are chatting. Two guys fidget nervously, whispering to each other. The rest stare at their phones, clearly anxious.

But not you.

You’re confident. You know you’re the strongest candidate. After all, you did your placement here. You know the hiring process, the expectations, the kind of questions they ask. This was going to be easy.

You were ready to walk in and walk out with a job offer.

You clutch your binder as the door opens.

“Okay, miss, are you ready for your interview?” says a short man with round glasses, glancing around the room.

“Yes, I’m all set!” chirps one of the polished-looking girls as she stands.

While she disappears behind the door, you open your binder and glance at your resume and documents.

There’s no way I won’t get hired. Right?

I’ve got the education, the experience, the license. I’m qualified. I’ll ace this.

Your internal pep talk shatters the moment the door opens again. The same man steps out.

“We’ve made our decision. The position has been filled.”

Behind him, the same girl walks out beaming, practically glowing with pride. He shakes her hand with a nod.

Around you, everyone starts packing up. Disappointed. Silent.

You stare, blinking in disbelief.

“You’re joking. You have to be joking. You called us all in, and now you’re just telling us to leave?”

The man looks puzzled. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah. You heard me.”

You stand, bag over your shoulder, arms crossed.

“Sorry, but I don’t make those decisions,” he replies flatly. “I just relay the message.”

He turns to leave, but you follow.

“No, not happening. I spent an hour getting here. I deserve an explanation, why was she chosen over the rest of us?”

You gesture at the girl, who’s awkwardly standing nearby.

You’d overheard her earlier. She had no experience. No license. Just an undergrad degree. Meanwhile, you’re fully certified, licensed, and experienced.

“Look, I already told you,I don’t make the calls. And I don’t owe you an explanation. I’m asking you to leave.”

His voice tightens as he turns back to face you.

Your heart pounds. You breathe deeply, trying to stay calm.

“Please. Just listen. I worked hard for this. I did my placement here. My mentor said I’d be a perfect fit. I’m qualified! I can prove it.” You pull your binder halfway out of your bag, hands trembling.

“Lady. I’m not saying it again. Leave. Or I’m calling security.”

His voice is louder now. Irritated. Final.

Tears threaten to fall. Your lip trembles. But you push forward, desperate.

“Okay, wait! please. Just hear me out. I did my placement here. I helped with research. I was told to apply because I had potential-”

“THAT’S IT. GET THE FUCK OUT. I’M CALLING SECURITY.”

He snaps. Reaches into his pocket and pulls out a radio, mumbling into it. The girl who got hired looks like she wants to disappear.

And then comes the guard. He looked scared to even touch you and honestly you couldn't blame him. He tried his best to redirect you but you cut him with your voice-filled with humiliation and anger.

“You guys are frauds! You told me to get certified, to study more because I had potential! And now, what? I sacrificed other offers for this!”

You’re not yelling. Your voice just firm and loud. 

"LET ME GO! oh, i get it now. your boss is just another one of those shallow, judgmental types, right? hires people based on their looks instead of their actual skills. where is he, huh? i came all this way-i deserve a chance to prove myself.”

“Would you stop screaming for one damn minute?”

A third voice cuts through the chaos.

You freeze.

A tall man with white hair stands before you. Cool, calm, and looking absolutely lethal in a tailored suit and sunglasses.

You narrow your eyes. “And who the hell are you?”

“Someone who doesn’t need to read your resume to know you’re not right for the job.” His voice is smooth but biting.

He glances at the guard behind you, then back at you.

“That behavior? That meltdown? Not exactly what we need around here.”

He slips his hands into his pockets.

“Here’s your answer, straight from the ‘stupid boss.’ Now get out, before I call the actual police.”

You blink, stunned.

That’s the boss?
You’ve been yelling like a maniac in front of him?

You try to speak. “Wait. No, I-I didn’t mean,this isn’t-”

“I think you’d make a great security guard,” he adds, casually. “All that screaming? Intimidating as hell.”

You stare at him, jaw half-dropped.

He chuckles. “Since this guy couldn’t handle you, I’d happily hire you in his place. What do you say?”

He’s grinning. Is this man mocking you?

“There’s no need for that,” you snap. “You’re a jerk. You hired someone who isn’t even qualified. I thought someone made a mistake, and all I wanted was a chance to prove I’m the better fit. But clearly, an arrogant asshole like you wouldn’t understand.”

You sling your bag back over your shoulder, ready to leave.

But he steps forward.

“Oh yeah? And how exactly were you going to prove you’re a better fit, by screaming in the hallway like a lunatic?”

You freeze.

“The first thing I look for is hunger,” he continues, his voice lower now. “People who want to win, who aren’t afraid to speak up and yes, who know how to present themselves. Appearance matters.”

You raise your chin. “So you're saying I do have what you want?”

“You have pieces of it. But you came in here thinking you were better than everyone else. Confident, sure, but cold. You didn’t try to talk to anyone. Didn’t engage. That’s not leadership. That’s ego.”

You take a breath. Then speak, steadier this time.

“Maybe I didn’t approach this the right way. But I did speak up. I wasn’t going to sit there quietly while someone underqualified got the job I worked for. The whole process is so mismanaged and you guys wasted my time"

A flicker of a smile appears on his face.

“I admit I was wrong. My behavior wasn’t acceptable, and I apologize,” you say, bowing slightly. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not qualified. I’m confident, I follow through on my responsibilities, and I don’t back down from a challenge. Even if it means standing alone.”

Gojo watches you. He seems… interested.

Then: “Unfortunately, this position has already been filled.”

Your heart sinks.

He turns to the man with the glasses and gestures toward you. “Take her to HR. Have her sign the paperwork and submit her certifications. She starts next week.”

Everyone around you freezes,including you.

“What?” you croak. “I… I don’t understand. I thought-”

“You were here for that position. It’s gone. So I’m hiring you for a new one, as my personal assistant. Which means you'll work directly under me, not anyone else.”

He flashes that infuriating smirk.

“Does it pay well?” you ask cautiously.

“More than the position you applied for. Sound fair?”

Your eyes widen.

“Yeah, I’ll take it. Wait… this isn’t a joke, right?”

“Not at all. I’m a man of my word.”

He claps a hand on your shoulder.

“I have high expectations. Don’t let me down.”

He turns, starts walking away, but stops briefly.

“Oh, what’s your name again?”

You tell him, voice still shaky.

“Right.” He grins. “Nice to meet you. I’m Satoru Gojo. But you can call me Mr. Gojo.”

He walks away. His footsteps echo down the hallway.

You stand frozen in place, along with three other stunned candidates who are all thinking the same thing.

What the fuck just happened.

Chapter Text

Lets say, your new job has been interesting. It’s been almost 2 weeks since you started working as Mr Gojo’s assistant and every morning this man wants a vanilla latte with exactly 8 pumps of caramel with extra whipped cream.

The week you got hired, you signed all the formalities and necessary paperwork. You also got a brand new work phone so that your boss can reach you anytime.

Yeah anytime.

Like anytime of the day or night.

You also met Ijichi who is his personal driver and let’s call him Gojo’s errand boy. He scraped all the “errands” that he did, into your plate. Now you are the errand boy and the assistant. How fantastic right?

He emailed you a massive list of Gojo’s interests, icks, his behaviour tactics and what not.

It was too much you obviously didn’t bother to read all of that.

So here you are waiting for your boss to arrive as you place his warm drink on his fancy table in his fancy office.You make your way towards the window- the ceiling to floor windows just behind his desk.His office has a perfect view of the skyline and it was beautiful.

A sudden elevator ding snapped you out of your thoughts, and you quickly made your way out of the office.
You greeted him with a smile on your face.

“Good morning, Mr. Goj- uughh”

Before you could finish, he tossed his bag in your direction, causing you to stumble a little on your heels.

“Morning! Here, take this and please tell me you have my drink ready?”

He fast paces inside his office, with you shadowing behind him, and he throws himself into his chair.
With a groan, he spins on his chair while reaching out for his sweet drink

“Ughhh, it's gonna be a long day, I can already feel it.”

Smacking his lips together after taking a huge sip from his coffee. He muttered, “oh this is good.”

You pulled out your phone as you placed his bag on the counter next to the door.

“So, Mr. Gojo, looks like you’ve got 2 meetings today. One with the ministry, they want to talk about the codes and regulations regarding the… uhh, new system? I believe. They didn’t mention much in the email as they want to talk more in person.”

You look at him to find him staring at you with one raised eyebrow, elbows on the desk, with his hands joined together.

“Ahhh okay, what's next?”

“Oh right, yeah, so a journalist emailed me saying she wants to interview you for research purposes, but I didn’t confirm anything with her yet.”

“Research purposes?”

“Yeah, research purposes.”

He blinks at you slowly. He raises his hands to do air quotes and repeats himself, “Research purposes.”

“Uh, Yeah?”

You were lost. All you could do was awkwardly smile at him. You lift your hands to fix your glasses.

“Is there something wrong?”

Shaking his head, he chuckles a little and leans back on his chair.

“No, never mind, just tell her I am busy.”

“Okay, so do you have any other days in mind that you want to schedule her in?” You say as you open the calendar app on the phone to mark the date.

He waves his hand and says, “Uh, there’s no need. Just tell her you’ll reach out when I’m free.”

“Oh, okay, and when’s that?”

“……..”

He calls out your name with a sigh

“Let's just say I don’t want to do any interviews for their research purposes.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and asked
“Ohh I see. Okay, so I need to avoid all these journalists and reporters then?”

He takes a deep breath before nodding his head, “Hmm,yeah, just ignore them, to be honest. For now, at least”

You straightened up your back to that and shot him a smile
“Okay noted. Is there anything else I can help you with, Mr Gojo?”

And with that, he lets you go for the meantime.

You slumped on your chair, wondering what to do now. There are no emails, tasks, or whatsoever. Just like last week.

Is this what you want? Like sure, you’re getting paid well, but there’s not much to do. You spent so much effort, blood, swea,t and tears into your education, and here you are. Good salary? Yeah. But is it worth it? Of course it is! You don’t have to do anything at all. Like nothing. (Yet. Nothing yet, but you don’t know that.)

Your train of thought gets interrupted by the telephone ringing on your desk.
With a quick introduction of your name, you respond to the call.

“Hello, how may I help you?”

“Hey, I'm calling from the marketing team. Can you tell the boss to review and sign the document I am about to fax your way?”

“Oh yeah sure, May I ask what those are about?”

“They’ve been faxed to you. You can read it and check it out yourself.” Ouch “Make sure they’re signed by the end of the day.”

With that, the man behind the phone hangs up on you.

The phone is still between your ear and shoulder with a scowl on your face.

Well, that was rude.

You put the phone down and turned around in your chair to grab the papers that were faxed to you.

One single paper.
One single document.
And they’re asking Gojo’s permission to make a video to post on social media that includes some types of equipment from the company.

What the actual fuck

“Mr Gojo, it’s me! May I come in?”

You knocked twice and heard a muffled ‘come in’ from him.
You place the paper right on his desk, and taking a couple of steps back, you intertwine your hands before telling Gojo about the phone call and the “document”.

He stops typing on his laptop and looks at you with a smile.
“Oh really.”

“Yeah,really.”

His face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Oh well then, they can have my permission only if I can be in the video.”

Is this guy for real?

No wonder everyone around here loves him. Everyone you’ve met so far adores Gojo, except for Ijichi. That man always looks like he's about to pass out from sheer exhaustion.

HR workers have told you how easy-going and friendly Gojo is, how he creates a safe and secure space for his employees. No overtime unless it’s absolutely urgent, but honestly, that's never the case.

You were glad to hear that your boss is not just kind, but also, apparently, has the appeal of a sex god, something you’ve heard from both women and men of all ages.

It’s great, isn’t it?

Chapter Text

Weekends are the best.

Who doesn't love staying in and relaxing on the couch, sipping Diet Coke, watching some random show while your cat lounges in the sunlight?

It couldn’t be you, right? Because that’s exactly what you’re doing.

You were given some work to do from Home- go through contracts, review the materials list your boss created, and that was it. Done in thirty minutes, and the,freedom.

This is the kind of stuff assistants do, right? Help their bosses get things done? Why can’t Gojo give you more work like that? Why do YOU have to be the one running his errands? You’re not his errand boy... Well, you kind of are now.

Your cat curls up around your legs, settling in for a nap. Smiling at him, you scroll through your TV to find something else to watch. But just as you were about to hit play, your phone vibrates aggressively from the table.

You unlock it with one swipe and immediately notice a flurry of texts. All from the one contact that really matters at the moment.

Mr. Gojo: Meeting tomorrow at 10.
Mr. Gojo: You're tagging along with me.
Mr. Gojo: Be ready by 9, down in the hallway. Don’t forget your laptop and grab the papers I left in the printer.

Oh wow, he triple-texted you.

You: Sounds good. See you tomorrow.

……..

Here you are, Monday morning, it’s 9:15 now, and it’s pouring rain as you wait downstairs in the lobby for Gojo.

While waiting, you struck up a nice chat with the girl at the front desk. Any person with a right mind would pick up when someone’s making fun of their outfit, right? By the end of that conversation, you got the feeling that the receptionist wasn’t your biggest fan.

When it comes to fashion, you dress for comfort, especially at work. Outside of work? That’s a whole different story, but we’re not getting into that right now.

“Hey, you must be Amy, right?” You smile as she looks up at you from her spot.

“Yeah, and you are?” She looks you up and down, clearly sizing you up.

“Oh! Right, how rude of me. I’m Mr. Gojo’s new assistant. Nice to meet you.” You offer your name, waiting for a response, but all you get is silence.

You awkwardly turn away, pressing your lips into a tight line. You’re about to say something when she beats you to it.

“Nice skirt, by the way.”

You turn back to see her smirking at your skirt, twirling a pen between her fingers.

You blink, then glance down at the skirt, smiling despite the shade she’s throwing. It’s not every day someone comments on your work outfit.

“Oh, thanks! It’s been in my closet for a while, but I never really figured out how to style it for work, you know? But today, we have a meeting, so I thought I’d give it a shot with this sweater. I think it works, right?”

She squints at your skirt, her lip curling slightly. “Oh, yeah, that skirt... It’s giving me ‘Sunday brunch with your 85-year-old aunt’ vibes. You sure that’s not a vintage piece from a retirement home’s lost and found?”

Your smile evaporates as quickly as it appeared.

“Um, no, it’s not a vintage item or anything—”

She cuts you off before you can finish. “Good luck with the meeting with Mr. Gojo in that outfit.” Her voice drips with a satisfaction that tells you she’s already won.

You’re stunned by her comment. You’ve never been the target of an outfit insult before. You’ve always dressed with confidence, and no one’s dared to throw shade at your wardrobe choices... Until now.

With a breathy laugh, you shake your head and walk away. You’re not the type to pick fights, especially not with someone you just met. Gojo mentioned Amy last week—how great she is at her job, how loved she is by everyone, and how she helps him with his checklists. Which, by the way, is your job... But that’s fine. Really. Takes the pressure off your shoulders... as if there was any to begin with.

After that brief interaction with Amy, you come to one conclusion: She’s a bitch.

You check your phone again. 9:30. Still no sign of Gojo. You glance around the roundabout outside one last time and finally spot a shiny black car pulling in. Finally.

Ijichi steps out of the driver’s seat and holds the door open to let you in. You quickly thank him with a small smile. As you settle in, you see Gojo furiously typing away on his laptop, not sparing you a glance.

“Hi, Mr. Gojo.”

“Hey.” His fingers continue flying across the keyboard, his focus entirely on the screen.

“So, what’s this meeting about anyway?” You shift in your seat and turn your head toward him.

“Oh yeah. It’s a big meeting with the board. Lots of important people talking about tech, machines, mental health, and all that stuff.” He stops typing and glances at you. Then, he looks down at your lap, his brow furrowing. He points at you. “What’s with that skirt?”

Your face drops as you glance down at the navy skirt.

“What? Is it bad?” You whisper the question, not sure where this is headed.

He exhales loudly, shaking his head. “No, never mind. It’s fine. Anyway, I’m sending you the details for the topics I wrote. Make sure to remind me if I miss anything during my turn to talk. Got it?”

You nod, pursing your lips. You open your tablet to download the PDF he just sent you.

“Good.” He closes his laptop and sets it in the middle of the seat, pulling out his phone.

You start going through the topics he’s written, but one part makes you want to scream out the window.

“Mr. Gojo, do you really think it’s the right approach to mention this when you’re trying to convince people about using machinery for mental health and disorders?” You ask hesitantly, glancing at him.

He raises his eyebrows and snaps his head toward you.

“Excuse me?”

“Uh, yeah. You wrote about how technology shouldn’t be provided to certain... uh... consumers. I don’t think that’s a good approach.”

“Oh yeah? You have something better to add?” He shoves his phone into his coat pocket, crossing his arms. “Let’s hear it.”

“Oh, no offense, Mr. Gojo, but all of this sounds kind of insensitive. It’s not considerate toward certain groups.” You gather your confidence and push through, despite his sharp, judgmental glare.

“Go on,” he motions with his hand, “enlighten me on how I’m being insensitive.” He checks his watch. “You have five minutes. Don’t waste my time.”

You know Gojo well enough by now to recognize his arrogance, but also his charm. It’s dangerous, really, how he’s fully aware of the power he holds over people. But you’re not falling for it.

As you explain your points, Gojo listens more attentively than you expected. There’s something in his expression surprise, maybe respect?

And then it hits you.

He’s actually listening. He’s considering your feedback.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re not just his assistant. Maybe you have more influence than you thought.

Firstly, you corrected his work.
Secondly, you didn’t hesitate to correct him.
Thirdly, you proved him wrong.
Fourth, you were confident with your words.
And lastly, you were right.

As the car pulled up in front of the building, Gojo turned to you. "Switch up the checklist and make the changes to the document I sent," he said, a hint of agreement in his voice.

You couldn’t help but smile. Finally! He was on the same page. Way to go!

You hurriedly grabbed all your things, following Gojo as he confidently strode toward the entrance. He moved through the halls like he owned the place, hands casually tucked in his pockets, black shades covering his eyes, and that signature smug smile plastered across his face. People greeted him as he passed, shaking his hand and nodding respectfully.

When you both entered the elevator, you stood beside him, while three other people quietly joined in, standing behind you. Your eyes wandered, landing on Gojo, who was now engrossed in his phone. His white hair, pushed back by his sunglasses, framed his sharp features perfectly. You weren’t staring, of course-just admiring how someone with those looks never chose to model. It’s unfair, really. Even his side profile could launch a thousand fan clubs.

Just as you were lost in thought, you caught him glancing at you. His eyebrow arched. You quickly looked away, trying to act casual. Great, caught in the act.

The elevator door slid open, and he walked out with his usual swagger.

“Alright, listen up.” He paused in front of the wooden double doors, turning to point at you. “I’m going in there for the meeting, but you’re not coming with me.”

You blinked, incredulous. “What? Why?”

He tsked, shaking his head. “Well, you see, I can’t have my assistant correcting me in the middle of a presentation, telling me how insensitive I am. I’ve got a reputation to uphold, you know.”

He glanced back at you over his shoulder, his signature smirk playing across his lips. “You can wait in the lobby. Maybe grab some of those cookies on the table or something. I’ll see you in a bit.”

He lifts his hand again, before adding another cheeky smirk, "Oh, and please don’t wear that skirt with this sweater again. Makes you look like a grandma heading out for bingo with her friends."

He lifts his hand again, before adding with a smirk, “Oh, and please don’t wear that skirt with this sweater again. Makes you look like a grandma heading out for bingo with her friends.”

You freeze for a moment, blinking at him, processing his words. Did he seriously just say that?

Your heart skips a beat

was he joking? It’s hard to tell with Gojo. You’ve only been working with him for a little while, but you’ve learned that he’s not afraid to speak his mind.

You swallow, trying to keep your expression neutral, but inside, you're a little rattled. Did he really just call me a grandma?

"Excuse me?" you manage, a faint laugh slipping out, though it’s more from nervousness than humor. You don't know whether to be offended or to brush it off as Gojo being... well, Gojo.

He glances at you, raising an eyebrow. “What? Did I say something wrong? It’s just a suggestion.” His smirk widens, clearly enjoying this more than he should.

You bite your lip, resisting the urge to snap back at him. You are the assistant here, after all. But the sting of his words lingers, and you can’t help but feel a little self-conscious.

Grandma... bingo... really?

For a moment, you imagine giving him a quick retort—something sharp, something witty that’d knock him off his high horse but you quickly remind yourself of your role. You’re here to assist him, not to get into a fashion fight.

Instead, you take a deep breath, pushing down the urge to defend your outfit. "Got it," you say, your tone smooth but tight, hoping it’ll just end there.

Internally, though, you can’t help but wonder if your sweater and skirt combo really look that bad. Maybe it’s a little too cozy, but still, you’ve seen worse. The outfit was comfortable, and you thought you looked decent enough nothing too flashy, just... professional. You guess Gojo didn’t see it that way.

You glance down at your skirt again. Maybe I’ll just stick to my usual black pants tomorrow.

But before you can spiral too far into your thoughts, Gojo’s voice cuts through, “Oh, and don’t stress it too much. We’re all good, right?”

You look up at him, his attention already back on his phone, completely oblivious to the mini internal crisis he just caused. Of course he is.

You nod, forcing a smile. “Yeah, we’re good.” You can’t help but wonder if he was serious.

“Great. Now, I'll be back soon!” he adds, completely moving on.

With that, he disappeared behind the double doors, leaving you standing there, trying to process what just happened.

Chapter Text

The sharp clack of your nails hitting the keyboard echoed through the office as you furiously typed out yet another email. Somewhere behind your desk, your phone chimed with notifications, and the landline had been ringing non-stop for the past five minutes. You couldn't deal with any of it yet, not until this monstrous email was finished.

Finally, with a triumphant tap of the "send" button, you slumped back in your chair and groaned. Then, forcing yourself to sit up straight, you reached for the phone, putting on your most polished customer service voice completely ignoring the fact that you were on the verge of losing your mind.

“Hello, Mr. Gojo’s office. How may I assist you?”

“Oh, now you pick up?” a shrill voice screeched through the receiver, making your eye twitch.

“How about you do your damn job and answer your phone when someone calls? I’ve been trying to reach your office for ten minutes! I even sent emails requesting an appointment with Mr. Gojo. Zero response from you or him.”

You resisted the urge to slam your forehead against the desk. Instead, you rubbed your temples, drawing in a long, calming breath. It took every ounce of your self-control not to snap back at the irate woman on the other end.

“My sincerest apologies for the delay. Mr. Gojo has been extremely busy lately. Let me just che—”

“Busy, my ass!” she cut you off, voice rising. “He posted a picture of himself with a clown at some fair a few days ago. Was that part of his packed schedule too?”

The truth? He wasn’t busy. He just liked pretending he was. Ever since that incident in his car (regarding that meeting which went really well. All thanks to you)he’d been slacking off in epic proportions. Meetings, paperwork, document approvals you name it, he tossed it all on your plate. He even had the nerve to ask you to feed his cat when he was out of town.

He’d disappear for an entire day without a word. And you? You’d wake up to instructions to send flowers and postcards to some mysterious address. A new one every time with different names. 

Men are disgusting.

And here you were, stuck cleaning up his chaos. The kind of chaos he should be dealing with, but clearly chose not to.

“Ma’am,” you said tiredly, the exhaustion leaking into your voice, “even Mr. Gojo needs a day off once in a while. He’s human, not a machine. Could I please get your name and the company you’re calling from so I can log the request into the system?”

There was a pause, followed by a sharp, impatient sigh.

“Schedule me as soon as possible. The name’s Kiara. I want an interview with Gojo.”

She snapped at you like you were some under qualified intern who’d just spilled coffee on her designer purse.

The name rings a bell somewhere in the back of your brain. You were informed by Gojo not to respond this journalist.

Research purposes.

Yeah that one.

“Oh um okay let me just double check with Mr. Gojo what time he wants to have an interview and I will get back at you? Sounds good?” Your voice filled with hesitation and hope she would say yes.

“Yeah whatever, if you dont call me or email me back I will personally come to your office and stran—“

“Okay perfect! Thank you” with that you slammed the damned phone down. You had no energy to deal with anyone right now.

It had been so long since you’d had any real time to yourself. Honestly, you couldn’t even remember the last time you relaxed without a deadline breathing down your neck. Work had become your whole life, and somehow, in the blink of an eye, eight months had passed since you started at your so-called dream company .

Time really does fly when you're drowning in emails and work that you shouldn’t be doing in the first place.

Your first impression of Gojo had been… well, completely different from how you saw him now.

Back then, you thought he was just another high-ranking executive with too much charm and not enough discipline. You expected arrogance and he did deliver that in abundance but you didn’t expect the rest. Not the way he treated his staff with genuine warmth, he still acted smug. Still pushed your buttons with his ridiculous jokes and poorly timed magic tricks. But he was also someone who noticed when you skipped lunch. Who made sure the interns never got yelled at. Who remembered birthdays (sometimes). Who once pulled you into his office just to ask if you were okay after a rough phone call.

In some strange, twisted way… he made the chaos bearable.

You weren’t nearly as stiff around him anymore, still kind of scared of him but No fake smiles or forced politeness, unless other people were around or unless he was actually being serious, which was rare, but not unheard of. And when he was serious?

You didn’t mess around. You’d learned that the hard way.

Because behind the joking, behind the sunglasses and the grin, there was a sharpness. A presence. Something that made the air shift when he walked in with that tone in his voice.

You weren’t dumb. You knew when to back off.

Speak of the devil.

The elevator dinged, and in walked Satoru Gojo like he owned the place which, technically, he did.

“Yo,” he drawled, striding in with that insufferable smirk. “What’s going on with you?”

Without waiting for an answer, he flopped dramatically onto the couch across from your desk, limbs sprawling like a starfish. His head dropped back over the cushions, sunglasses sliding down his nose before he shoved them up with a sigh.

You didn’t even look up. “Someone named Kiara called. Said she’s been trying to schedule an interview.”

He cracked one eye open, frowning slightly. “Kiara?”

“Yeah,” you said flatly. “Because you told me to ignore all journalist emails, and now this girl is furious that no one ever got back to her.”

Gojo blinked.

You leaned forward, elbows on your desk, hands raised for emphasis. “Kiara. The journalist? Interview with you? For research purposes ? Ring any bells?”

His eyes lit up with delayed recognition, and he pointed a lazy finger at you. “Ohhh, that one. How could I forget.”

He snickered to himself like he was remembering something wildly inappropriate. Which, knowing him, he probably was.

“‘Research purposes,’ right,” he said, shaking his head. “Like she’s gonna dissect me in half like a KitKat and measure my brainwaves or some crap.”

You sighed. “You ghosted her. Now she thinks I’m the one being unprofessional.”

Gojo stretched his arms overhead, utterly unbothered. “I wasn’t ghosting. I was… just not available. I am busy man you know”

You gave him a long, unimpressed stare.

He grinned. “Okay, mildly avoiding.”

“Fix it,” you said, already typing a follow-up email on his behalf.

“Oh, c’mon,” he groaned. “She’s probably just mad ‘cause she’s in love with me. Most people are.”

You didn’t even dignify that with a response.

“Mr. Gojo, help me here,please.” You exhaled sharply, barely disguising the fatigue in your voice. “I don’t want to get yelled at anymore. Just… tell me what you want me to do. You make the call here.”

You leaned back in your chair, shoulders sagging. It had been a long day..hell and you were one annoying phone call away from snapping your laptop in half and throwing it out the nearest window.

Gojo tilted his head to look at you properly, the grin slipping off just a little. For once, he didn’t crack a joke right away.

“Hey,” he said, sitting up with a stretch and a groan. “You’re really at your limit, huh?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

He tapped a lazy rhythm against the arm of the couch with his fingers, then shrugged. “Alright, fine. Send her an email. Tell her I’m not doing the interview.”

You blinked. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to deal with it. I don’t like people poking around just to write some pretentious think-piece titled The Charming Gojo Satoru: businessman or a model ”

You snorted, despite yourself. “You think highly of yourself.”

“I think accurately,” he shot back with a wink, then stood up and stretched again, back cracking audibly.

He paused at your desk, eyeing you a second longer than usual. Then, with a small nod toward the door, he added, “Also, you’re done for the day. Go home.”

You frowned. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said casually, already strolling toward the hallway.

“You’re about to short-circuit, and I can’t have my assistant collapsing from bureaucratic exhaustion. Bad for the brand.”

He tossed a look over his shoulder, sunglasses sliding back down over his eyes.

“Go rest, yeah? I’ll survive the chaos for one night.”

And somehow, for once, you believed him.

Chapter Text

The moon hung high above the city, casting a faint silver light across your tiny bedroom walls. In the distance, the soft hum of cars and distant trains echoed like a lullaby of a world that never quite slept.

You did, though. Peacefully, until a scratch of dryness clawed at your throat, hot and parched like the Sahara. A soft groan slipped from your lips as you turned in bed, dragging the blanket with you before finally surrendering and sitting up, knees tucked beneath you.

A big stretch made your spine crack, followed by a long, yawning sigh. You rubbed your eyes and glanced out the small window by your bed. The night sky blinked back, stars scattered like dust across the velvet dark, and for a moment, you forgot why you were awake at all.

Until your throat reminded you again.

Dragging yourself up, you padded across the floor toward the kitchen, your oversized hoodie brushing past your thighs. Your cat trailed behind with soft paws, tail flicking like a slow metronome. He stopped in front of you and sat, blinking lazily as you filled your cup and drank deeply, the water cool and grounding.

You shuffled to the couch with your work phone and tablet still nearby, your fingers brushed over them absently as you sat. You weren’t planning to check anything. Not really. But the curiosity itched at the back of your skull.

You couldn’t help but wonder if coming home early was the right call. It wasn’t like Gojo didn’t have everything under control he was the CEO for a reason. Still… thoughts tugged at you.

You handled a lot. The schedule. The overflow. The reminders. The spin control. You took pressure off him where you could prepping things so he didn’t have to. But you couldn’t exactly share the weight of what he carried. He had to stay sharp, plugged in at all times. Meetings at ridiculous hours. Work dinners that went long into the night. There were things even you couldn't soften. Still. Today had been too much . You knew it. He knew it.

When he told you to go home, it hadn’t been a suggestion. It was the way his voice lowered. The way his eyes lingered on yours. He didn’t say much,but it was enough to cut through your pride.

You tapped your work phone’s screen.

Nothing.

No messages. No missed calls. No mayday emails. No Gojo.

A small breath escaped you, equal parts relief and… something else. Quiet.

You stood again, moving toward the kitchen. The green digits on the stovetop blinked 11:27. You paused, debating between cooking or simply drinking some chocolate milk and letting the day finally go.

The warm shower you’d taken the moment you got home had helped. You barely remembered collapsing into bed after that—still half-damp, cat curled by your legs, sleep crashing over you like a wave.

You’d eaten earlier, but the thought of food didn’t pull at you now. A banana. Chocolate milk. That would do.

You leaned against the counter, sipping slowly as your cat weaved between your legs.

Yeah… work could wait until tomorrow.
Gojo would survive.
And so would you.

For now, this was enough. Quiet. Moonlight. And the kind of night that felt like it belonged to no one but you.

The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of the upper floor, spilling golden light across the sleek marble floors. You walked with confidence heels clicking like a metronome down the corridor, your expression sharp, your outfit as crisp as a fresh lemon wedge on the rim of a cocktail glass.

In one hand, a stack of neatly organized binders. In the other, a perfectly timed entrance.

You pushed open the tall glass door to Gojo’s office without knocking not that it was a big deal. You were always in and out. His assistant. He’d told you more than once not to bother knocking unless it was actually important. “Just come in, saves us both time,” he’d said, more than a few times. So, unless told otherwise, you took him at his word.

“Mr. Gojo, there are some reports for—”

You stopped.

The room was empty. The faint scent of his sickly-sweet coffee still hung in the air like the ghost of chaos past, and the half-full cup sat abandoned on his desk, a lipstick ring of syrup clinging to the rim. But the man himself? Missing in action.

Your brows furrowed.

“…Did he jump out the window?” you whispered to yourself, deadpan. Then immediately shook your head. No. Too dramatic. Even for him.

Still, where the hell was he?

You were about to turn and head back to your desk when you suddenly slammed into something solid.

Or rather… someone .

The impact made your breath hitch and your arms fumble. The binders nearly slipped, but before they could crash dramatically to the floor, strong hands steadied your arms, catching you like a well-rehearsed dance.

“Woah there, easy,” came that familiar voice, a little breathless, a little smug.

Gojo Satoru. Alive and well.

Your eyes blinked up at him, momentarily dazed.

“Mr. Gojo—where were you?” you asked, confusion etched into your features. “You were here an hour ago…”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, that crooked grin crawling over his face. “Just wandering around to stretch” he said vaguely, jerking his thumb down the hall in the opposite direction of your desk. “That room.”

You blinked again. “You mean the one past the study?”

“Yep. That’s the one.”

You didn’t respond immediately. Just nodded slowly as you stepped aside, letting him pass. The floor was technically private, but you rarely wandered down that hallway. Gojo had once offhandedly told you those two rooms were “empty,” and you had no reason not to believe him. You were efficient,not nosy.

Still, your curiosity stirred slightly at the back of your mind.

You followed him in, setting the binders down with practiced ease.

“These are the reports for the shipment to South Korea last week. I’ve already gone through them, but I highlighted some parts I wasn’t sure about.”

“Mm,” Gojo murmured as he took the top binder and flipped it open. He scanned the pages slowly, his sharp eyes dragging over every line with quiet concentration. You stood silently in front of his desk, fingers laced in front of you, the tip of your shoe tapping gently against the tile.

After a moment, he spoke without looking up.
“Nothing too crazy. Just standard safety protocols for the machinery terms and conditions, mostly. You’re good.”

“Oh. Okay,” you said with a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I’m still not great with all the tech-heavy stuff.”

He finally looked up then, one eyebrow raised, expression soft. “Yeah, no worries. That’s what I’m here for.”

He finally looked up, one eyebrow raised, expression soft.
“Yeah, no worries. That’s what I’m here for.”

Now, anyone else in your shoes might’ve died on the spot from the look he gave you. That soft, effortlessly charming expression the kind that could make just about anyone melt. But not you.

You just stood there with that calm, composed smile, serene, untouched, like you hadn’t even noticed it. And that bothered him. Just a little.

Gojo was used to his charm working like a switch. Flash a smile, tilt his head just right, and the world bent a little in his favor. But you? You never flinched. Never broke character.

Well… except for that one day.
When you had a meltdown during that hiring day and  caused a scene, demanding to see the boss .

He still remembered it. Vividly.

He closed the binder with a soft snap and slid it across the desk toward you. You reached out and took it back, adjusting your glasses slightly.

“So,” you began, a little casually, “how was yesterday after I left?”

Gojo leaned back in his chair with a lazy stretch, arms raised behind his head as he yawned.

“Oh, you know ,” he said, voice low and teasing. “Quiet. Boring. Unorganized. Full of existential dread without my assistant to micromanage my entire existence.”

You snorted. “So… chaos.”

“Controlled chaos. Barely.”

You both shared a small laugh.

But something in his gaze lingered on you a second longer than necessary. A faint glint of something unspoken danced behind his words but he didn’t say it. Just gave you a look that almost felt like a thank you, unwrapped in anything formal.

“Glad you took the afternoon off,” he said, voice quieter now.

You hesitated at the door, binder hugged to your chest.

“…Me too,” you replied. “Thanks for that.”

He gave you a simple nod. “Don’t get used to it.”

You smirked over your shoulder. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sir .”

And with that, you stepped back into the hallway, heels clicking once again. The sound echoed down the corridor sharp, steady, and just a little lighter than before.

Before you knew it, lunch hour had crept up on you. You hadn’t had the time to pack lunch this morning,even though you slept gracefully throughout the night. You overslept. So you made a quiet mental note to check the cafeteria downstairs. It wasn’t like you had to pay for it, anyway. One of Mr. Gojo’s many generous policies: free meals for everyone in the building, save for the vending machines (which, ironically, he seemed to use the most).

You shut down your laptop and the monitor, sighing softly as you gathered your phone. On autopilot, you headed toward your boss’s office. A light knock against the glass door before you opened it a crack and peeked your head in.

“Mr. Gojo, I’m heading down for lunch. I’ll be in the cafeteria, would you like anything?”

Your voice trailed off as your eyes took in the scene.

There he was: feet up on the desk, tie undone, eyes glued to the large screen mounted across from him. A controller clutched in his pale hands

Mario Kart…

You blinked once, then again, as if your brain needed time to process it.

Of course. You’d spent the last thirty minutes calling his line, reminding him about those documents that needed his signature. Each time he’d said, “Soon.”
Well, “soon” never came. You ended up submitting them yourself, with his digital signature after he gave you verbal permission, naturally.

He didn’t even look away from the screen as he answered.

“No, I’m good. Someone’s bringing mine up in a bit. Go ahead.”

His fingers moved like they had a mind of their own, aggressively maneuvering through Rainbow Road like his life depended on it.

You stood there for a second, unsure what was more unbelievable: the fact that he was playing Mario Kart during work hours, or how normal that somehow was for him.

“…Okay,” you replied calmly, like a robot used to odd programming. You didn’t bother asking who "someone" was. You didn’t ask why he couldn’t sign a few papers.

You just turned and left.

What a spoiled brat, you thought dryly as the door clicked shut behind you. Rich people really do get what they want, huh.

The cafeteria was mostly quiet, a few workers scattered across tables, chatting in hushed tones or scrolling on their phones. You found a seat in the far corner and sat down with your plate;miso soup, rice, a side of pickled vegetables. Simple, warm. Comforting.

But the table around you? Empty.

You stirred your soup a little before picking up the spoon. Suddenly, the room felt too big. You felt… small. Out of place. Disconnected.

No work friends. No casual gossip. No one to ask how your day’s been. Not that you minded silence, it was just loud in a different way today.

Ever since you were hired, whispers traveled fast. Gojo Satoru, who famously never kept an assistant, suddenly had you . Handling his schedule, his emails, his meals, his life , really.

You weren’t stupid. You noticed the passive-aggressive remarks.
Your wardrobe choices. The way you followed up too often or requested things from other departments.

“Why does she act like she owns the place?”

“Why does she need those files now?”

“Guess being Gojo’s assistant comes with attitude…”

They weren’t outright cruel. Just cold. Judgy.

And you, quiet, composed, always minding your business, didn’t give them anything to latch on to. Which, perhaps, only made it worse. You were alone at the top of a high tower you didn’t even ask to climb.

Gojo? He floated through it all effortlessly. Always laughing, always surrounded by someone. People invited him out like he was their best friend, not their CEO.

You finished your meal quickly, rising from the table with a tight, polite expression. Tray in the trash, hands smoothed down your shirt. Back to work. Back to silence.

You were halfway to the elevators, the hum of fluorescent lights above and the quiet clatter of trays behind you, when someone called out your name.

“Hey,got a second?”

You turned your head just slightly, already recognizing the voice before you saw the face.

Reina.

Mid-level operations. Efficient, loud in all the ways you weren’t, and unfortunately… well-liked. She wasn’t the worst person in the building, just the kind of person who always knew exactly where to press to get a reaction, even if you never gave her one.

She approached you, all confidence in pointed heels, arms folded across her designer blazer like she was already building a case.

“I didn’t want to say this in front of everyone,” she began, lowering her voice with a conspiratorial tone that immediately put you on edge, “but a few people were talking…and I figured I should just be honest.”

You didn’t say anything. Just looked at her calmly, patiently. Her smile tightened a little.

“Some of the department leads are feeling… overwhelmed. Apparently, there’ve been a lot of requests from you lately. Revisions, reschedules, edits on things we’ve already signed off on.” She tilted her head, faux-concern painted all over her face. “I think it’s throwing off the workflow. You know how people can get when they feel like someone’s overstepping.”

You blinked once. Slowly. “I only ask for what Mr. Gojo needs.”

“Right,” she said quickly, as if you were the one being defensive. “Of course. But sometimes it’s not what you ask for it’s the way . Just… be careful. People are starting to talk.”

She gave you a once-over before offering a pleasant, harmless smile. The kind that said I’m just trying to help  but you knew better. It wasn’t help. No, It was a warning, dipped in sugar.

You straightened your posture, not an inch of emotion on your face.

“Then perhaps they should take it up with Mr. Gojo,” you said simply. “After all, I only act on his behalf.”

Reina’s smile flickered for a moment, just long enough for you to notice the crack. Then she shrugged, brushing invisible lint off her sleeve.

“Sure. Just thought I’d give you a heads-up. Would hate to see you get the wrong kind of attention.”

You nodded once, polite as ever. “Appreciated.”

And just like that, she turned and left.
As if she hadn’t just tried to put a crack in your carefully constructed armor.

You exhaled through your nose and pressed the elevator button. The steel doors reflected your calm expression, but your fingers curled just slightly at your sides.

So that’s how it was going to be.

Fine.

Let them talk.

Let them whisper.

Because the next time Reina saw your name on a request, it’d be attached to a directive signed personally by Gojo Satoru, and you’d make damn sure of it.

Chapter Text

Lately, you’d been noticing how stressed your boss had been. Satoru Gojo, usually annoyingly laid-back, had this storm cloud brewing behind those obnoxious sunglasses. Naturally, you tried to make his life easier prepping everything for the upcoming conference. Notes, visuals, the slideshow.

All he had to do was skim it and give his signature lazy thumbs-up.

Simple, right?

Wrong.

Instead of saying thanks, he chewed you out.

“Don’t treat me like some helpless loser,” he snapped, arms crossed as he glared you down. “I’ve been handling presentations like this for almost four years without any assistance.I don’t need a babysitter.”

You bit down the urge to argue. Instead, you nodded stiffly.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, Mr. Gojo. I was just trying to help.”

That only seemed to piss him off more. His smile turned sharp, eyes glinting with something between mockery and menace.

“Do I look like a damsel in distress to you? I don’t need your help.”

And with that, you were dismissed.

You’re his assistant for gods sake and thats what they do right?

Whatever kindness he’d shown you in the past? Gone. Down the drain. Replaced with that usual mix of arrogance and emotional constipation he wore like cologne.

You went home that night fuming.

Sure, he was probably stressed but that didn’t mean he had to make you feel like some wannabe savior trying to rescue the poor, pathetic CEO.

Everyone knew Satoru Gojo was far from incompetent. In fact, he was irritatingly good at everything: brilliant, charming (when he wanted to be), and damn near untouchable.

And you? Well, you weren’t exactly a slouch either. Maybe you didn’t have a six-figure IQ or magical cheekbones, but you knew your job. You were capable. That should’ve been enough.

You texted Utahime.

Your work friend.

Office ally.

Fellow Gojo-sufferer.

She’d once helped you carry binders when you were clearly being punished by Gojo for calling out Reina’s passive-aggressive comments.

Let’s just say…

Gojo didn’t love hearing about that.

He raised an eyebrow and went,

“Is that so?”

Next morning, he’d sent Reina a curt email about “revised files needed urgently.”

You knew exactly what that was.

Anyway, Utahime claimed how Gojo has always been bully and helped you. You couldn’t help but agree with what she said.

She worked in HR and apparently went to the same high school as him though being his senior didn’t spare her from his antics. He teased her relentlessly just for fun.

You didn’t encourage it.

You never laughed.

Never even smiled.

You didn’t want him getting ideas.

You: He snapped at me today. Again.

Utahime: Ugh. I seriously can’t stand him. Idk how you deal with him daily. He’s such a jerk.

You: My patience is hanging by a thread, trust me.

Utahime: Break his sunglasses next time. Say you sat on them by accident. 😇

You: Maybe I’ll break his face next time so he stops underestimating me.

Utahime: And I will absolutely support that.

You smile faintly and made yourself some nice dinner and put on some sappy drama to watch.

The sound of a clock ticking somewhere in the distance matches the pace of your thoughts, slow, intrusive, maddening. Each second passes like a reminder that you’re still awake. Still overthinking.

You’ve been staring at the ceiling long enough to memorize every corner of the LED light above you. It’s round. No edges. Just like your thoughts circular, spiraling, no end in sight. Every time you try to pull yourself out, you loop right back to the beginning.

You shift under the blanket, trying to get comfortable. Again.A small weight pressed against your thighs groans dramatically. Ranger-your fluffball of a cat-lifts his head from underneath the blanket to give you the stinkiest of stink-eyes. His silent protest says it all: “Stop moving. Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“Sorry,” you whisper, pressing your face into the pillow like maybe it’ll help squeeze the noise out of your brain.

Did I overstep?

I was just trying to help.

That’s my job, right?

You’re his assistant, not some stranger playing hero. You’re supposed to make his life easier. That’s the entire point of your existence in that office. So why did it feel like he hated you for it?

Maybe it’s because he’s never had an assistant before you. Maybe he doesn’t know how to act.

Or maybe he’s just an emotionally stunted asshole with commitment issues and a god complex and 

You sigh.

Okay. That was unfair.

Still.

He didn’t have to call you a smarty pants Or look at you like you were an idiot for trying to do your job.

You sniff, shifting again, tugging the blanket up over your face.

Ranger grumbles and kicks you once with his back paw. You deserve that.

You close your eyes and whisper softly into the darkness

“God, I’m such a loser.”

You woke up extra early the next morning. You got his coffee and some donuts not just some regular donuts the special overpriced ones and his sweet disaster of a coffee with extra whipped cream this time and of course you grabbed one for yourself.

gosh you could some sugar this morning.

You’re not too fond of coffee anyway,  but wanted to give the Disney princess style coffee a try.

It’s not like you were paying out of pocket. He gave you his black card months ago. Told you to “use it responsibly,” then promptly forgot it existed.

As much as you didn’t want to admit it… this was your version of an apology.

An apology for “overstepping,” even though you technically hadn’t done anything wrong. You were his assistant. You were doing your job.

But still… that conversation yesterday,it stuck.

You didn’t wanted your boss to hate you or think of you as annoying.

As you made your way through the front of the building when someone calls out your name. You recognize that voice its

“Hi, Reina” you blinked as turn around awkwardly to face her while holding a coffee tray, box of donuts, your tote bag and your purse which was ready to fall off your shoulder any time now.

Her hair curled up, some expensive looking blazer all neat and fitted at the right places. A tight smile on her face as she approached you.

“Hey, I hope you liked the new revised version of the profit reports I sent you” venom dripping from her mouth, thinly disguised as professionalism.

“Oh that yeah, so, uh you see it was Mr Gojo who wanted that. Not me. As I told you earlier I don’t make these calls, I did tell him that the reports were just fine-“

She raised her hand and cuts off your ramble with an irritated  look on her face. “Save it.”

Her voice dropped,

“I know what you’re doing here and no one likes it. No ones likes you. So don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. Everything was just fine until you came along, all those stupid requests, unnecessary phone calls no one likes to be ordered around by some errand girl”

She eyes you up and down, finally breaking her character, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed.

You should’ve felt insulted.

You really should’ve.

But honestly? You didn’t

The words bounced off like they were some stray bunnies who saw a human approaching them- then scattered.

At this point you were used it.

Misunderstood.

Misjudged.

Seen as cold and bossy.

Whatever, you’re just doing your job as Gojo Satoru’s assistant.

Oh and his errand girl. Thats new

“Guess it’s nice having a job where you just run around grabbing lattes all day.”

She’d said it flippantly, just loud enough for the others in the corridor to hear as you walked past, the heels of your shoes clacking steadily across the polished floor.

Some snorted. Some awkwardly pretended not to hear. But her eyes were fixed on you, glinting with fake innocence and something sharper underneath.

She wanted a reaction.

You didn’t give her one.

Good for you, honestly.

You gave the intern a small awkward nod who was shooting a sympathetic look towards your direction by the elevators.

Poor guy had to witness the whole thing. He was once a target of Reina as well.

New and fresh to the market, ready to be exploited, manipulated and discarded away when convenient

You remembered the day she tried to “mentor” him

which, of course, meant leech his ideas and throw him under the bus the second they didn’t work.

But apparently he gets along really well with the boss.

He got lucky.

Gojo Satoru adores this kid for some reason.

Whats his name again?

Yuji Itachi?

Itadori?  Something like that.

They both are the same peas in a pod.

Gojo found him working late at night one time after being tortured by Miss Cruella over there, Reina. He went back to his office and found the kid working alone at 10:30. Wearing a crumpled hoodie and staring at his monitor like it held the meaning of life—or at least the last shred of his dignity that was yet to be stripped down by Cruella.

God knows how Gojo ended up dragging Yuji out of the building at 10:43 p.m. to get donuts and hot chocolate. Since then things have been different for him. Which was nice because he didn’t deserve any of that torture he received by the devil herself.

Since then, he had been safe. Untouchable.

But now Cruella, Who has her attention set on you now.

You couldn’t even be mad honestly. You get it, it did looked ridiculous from the outside. Bossing staff around, grabbing expensive lattes for your boss but no one saw the after hours meetings, work that’s been piling up for you to sign off throughout the day, the conference calls where you handled investors while Gojo wandered off to play Mario kart.

Without wasting any more time you just walked away, chin up-like a goddamn professional you were-towards the private elevator.

Pressed the buttons to your floor.

The CEO’s private floor.

Your office, same thing.

Fancy right?

No wonder everyone dislikes you.

Or…….. thats just what you think.

Chapter Text

Gojo walks into the office like nothing happened yesterday.
No guilt.
No awkward follow-up.
No apology waiting at the tip of his tongue.
Why? Because that would mean he has to acknowledge he was wrong.
And he’s not.
Not really.
He just… overreacted.
A little.
Maybe.
Okay, maybe he was a dick.

He sees you at your desk.
Same boring ponytail.
Same too-big glasses.
Same “I will not emotionally react to you” expression that drives him insane.
Why does she never fight back?

The silence between you feels heavier than usual.
“Good morning, Mr. Gojo.”
You hadn’t even heard the elevator. You quickly get up and trail after him like a baby duckling following its mother.

As soon as he pushes open his door, he whistles.
“Oh wow, is that for me?” he grins over his shoulder, already walking toward his desk.

“Oh yeah. I picked it up for you this morning.”
You rub your sweaty palms against your skirt and let out a nervous laugh.
He opens the box immediately and without hesitation shoves an entire donut into his mouth.
You stare at him, mouth slightly agape.
Yep. He really just inhaled that whole thing like it owed him money.

“Uh… do you like it?” you ask tentatively.

“Yeah, I love it,” he replies with his mouth full, then takes a giant sip of his sweet, sugar-coated abomination of a coffee.
“Wow. Great start to the day,” he hums, eyes rolling back dramatically as he grabs another donut and plops into his chair.

You nearly gag. He’s so dramatic. And disgusting.
Utahime was right. he really does have no manners.
You shake your head and pull out your tablet. “We have a meeting today, sir. The one with-”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember,” he sighs, opening his laptop. “I’ve been taking some notes here and there-“ 
His head snaps up. His tone shifts.
“-and I hope you have everything prepared. Along with the presentation.”

His eyes lock onto yours with a strange intensity,like a predator sizing up its prey.
You know this meeting is a big deal. He’s been stressing about it for weeks.
And despite dismissing your help yesterday, now he expects everything perfectly in place.

The look in his eyes alone sends you spiraling.
You swallow hard and adjust your glasses. “Yes, sir. It’s all ready. I transferred everything to the pen drive. it’s on your table.”

Your voice wavers a little. Understandable, considering he’s looking at you like you just offered him a grenade instead of a USB.

You clear your throat and glance down. “You just have to double-check it once, and if there’s anything that needs fixing, let me know.”

“No, it’s fine. I trust you.”
He leans back in his chair, lips twitching into a faint smirk.
“Just don’t make me disappointed.”

Goddammit.
Really?
After putting you through a mental spiral all night, that’s what he has to say?
‘I trust you.’ What a load of crap.

“Yes, sir. But just in case, I’ve reviewed everything multiple times to ensure the data is accurate. It’s an important meeting, and I’d feel more confident knowing you’ve looked through it as well.”
Your voice stays professional, but there’s a careful hint of caution there.
A quiet way of saying: Don’t throw me under the bus if anything goes wrong.

He exhales and finally grabs the pen drive, plugging it into his laptop. His eyes scan the screen, and you notice, he’s not wearing his usual sunglasses.
There are faint shadows beneath his eyes, a dull red tint.
He didn’t sleep well last night either.

Well… that makes two of you.

“It looks good to me.”

His voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You exhale, a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

“Okay. Perfect. That’s good.”

“Well, we should probably get going. I don’t wanna be late for this,” he says, glancing at his watch.

Then, without warning, he tosses the USB at you.

“Heads up!”

You stumble a little in your heels but manage to catch it just fine.

He snickers like a child and strolls past you with his hands shoved into his pockets.

So annoying.

He could’ve just handed it to you like a normal human being.
You roll your eyes behind his back, grab your things, his things and follow after him.
Even his walk is cocky.

The drive wasn’t long or maybe you’d just zoned out enough not to notice.
You stole a few glances at your boss, who hadn’t looked up from his phone once. His thumbs moved quickly over the screen, his face unreadable.
And unless your eyes were deceiving you, there were heart emojis in that text.

Heart emojis? Seriously?
As far as you knew, Gojo didn’t have a girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Or anyone. He was about as emotionally available as a locked vault.
And it had been months since he last asked you to send flowers to anyone. A full-on dry spell.

Still, it wasn’t your business. Not really.
You sank back into your usual loop of thoughts, work, sleep, TV, repeat. You needed a break.
A real one.

Maybe a beach.

Maybe just your bed.

Hell, maybe just a proper meal and a full night’s sleep.
Your body felt soft. Weak. You kept saying you’d start working out again. You kept not doing it.

The car jerked to a stop, snapping you out of it.You looked up. Expensive hotel. Glistening glass doors. Of course.

Your heels echoed through the marble lobby as you trailed behind Gojo, arms full, laptop bag, presentation folder, printed notes, while he strolled ahead like he was out for a walk in the park.

The conference room was large and cold. About ten chairs, already filled with the type of stiff-collared, smug-faced executives you never bothered remembering.

You offered them a polite smile when Gojo introduced you as his assistant.
Just the assistant. No name. No title. Just someone who would carry the weight literally and otherwise while he schmoozed his way through another multi-million yen meeting.

Now here’s the catch,
You had reviewed the slides six times.
The USB was in your bag.
The backup was in your email.
You had Gojo’s notes, your notes, the printed outlines for all ten attendees.

And yet, five minutes into the meeting, the projector refused to cooperate.
“Just—one second,” you said quietly, kneeling beside the conference laptop, fingers trembling slightly as you clicked through the file menu.

Why won’t it open?

Gojo was standing next to the whiteboard in a tailored navy suit, hands in his pockets, posture casual but his foot had started tapping.

And he hadn’t looked at you once.
You heard a slight sigh from his nose.

“Seriously?”

You froze.

He didn’t even say your name. Just spoke to the room as if you weren’t there.

“It’s a projector, not a bomb. Why is this taking so long?”
His voice was cool, almost bored, but with that edge you’d learned to dread.
“I’ve got ten million yen on the line and you’re fumbling like it’s your first day out of school.”

A pause, then dry, brutal

“Is this what I’m paying you for? To crash and burn in front of potential partners?” He turns his head lazily to give you a look that clearly was - I am angry, don’t make the situation any worse.

A few of the executives chuckled uncomfortably.
You kept your head down, lips pressing into a thin line.
“Sorry,” you murmured, voice small. “It’s just taking a second to load.”

“It’s been five.”

The silence stretched.

You nervously gulped and finally got the file open. The presentation flickered onto the screen.
Gojo didn’t thank you.
He didn’t even look at you.
He just fixed his blazer and launched into his pitch, the charming mask sliding effortlessly back into place.

People trickled out of the boardroom. Laughter, firm handshakes, business cards exchanged.

Gojo?

He walked out with a “I will be waiting in the car, don’t take too long”

Didn’t even glance in your direction.

He left you alone with a half-full water pitcher, scattered notes, USBs, folders, and the sting of humiliation still hot behind your ears.

You were gathering everything with one arm while fumbling for your phone when a voice interrupted

“Hey.”

You turned, startled.

It was one of the guests, Choso Kamo, the quiet one, some executive from a different company that you can’t remember.
Tall, black hair tied back, slightly intimidating if not for the softness in his eyes.

“Rough meeting,” he said gently.

You gave him a polite smile, hiding your embarrassment behind a mechanical nod.

“It’s alright. These things happen.”

“Doesn’t mean they should.” He stepped a little closer.
“That was out of line. He shouldn’t have snapped like that. Especially not in front of everyone.”

You blinked. It was rare for anyone to say anything. Most just pretended you were wallpaper.

“It’s fine,” you said again. “He’s under pressure. It’s not personal.” You shrugged and looked away grabbing while grabbing some things from the table and stuffing them in your bag.

“You’re a better assistant than I’ve seen most people handle in high-stakes meetings,” Choso said simply.
“Calm under fire. Even after he… well.”

He reached into his jacket and handed you a sleek business card.

“If you ever want to work for someone who knows how to say thank you. I’m hiring.”

You laughed softly, surprised by the warmth that bubbled up at the joke.

“I appreciate it, but I’m okay where I am.”

“Didn’t expect you to say yes,” he said with a shrug. “Just wanted an excuse to talk to the woman who managed to stay composed after being publicly dressed down by Gojo freaking Satoru.”

You chuckled lightly.

“I don’t think composed is the word for how I felt.”

He gave you a small smile, genuine.

“Still. It was impressive.”
Your phone buzzed.
A message from Gojo.

Mr. Gojo: Get to the car.

No please.
No thank you.
No acknowledgment of the scene he caused.

You sighed and tucked Choso’s card into your coat pocket.

“Duty calls.”

“Don’t let him kill your spirit,” Choso said as you turned.
“He’s loud. But you, strike me as the quiet type who carries more than she lets on.”

You paused at the door. Glanced back.

“I think you’re reading too much into it.”

“Maybe,” he said.

“But I’m good with numbers. And I’ve got a feeling he’s miscalculating the value of what he’s got.”

You said nothing. Just nodded and left.

As you got into the car, Gojo was leaned back, one leg crossed, sunglasses on.

Not looking at you.

“Took you long enough.”

Nodding mindlessly,You sat in silence, hands folded in your lap.
You didn’t reply.
Neither did he.
But for once, he didn’t open his phone. Didn’t scroll or text.
He just sat there, stealing glances at you through the tinted reflection of the window.
He didn’t say sorry.
And you didn’t ask for it.

The car ride was painfully silent and long for some reason. But you didn’t mind, didn’t care.

Walking out of Mr. Gojo’s office after informing him, politely, that his lunch was on the way (the very one he specifically asked you to order), you barely held back a sigh as the door clicked shut behind you.

You tossed yourself into your chair and immediately kicked off your heels, then shrugged out of your oversized blazer. It felt heavier than usual today, probably because you were carrying his ego in it all morning.

Your feet throbbed.

There was a dull pressure building right between your brows.Your stomach grumbled, but you had no appetite, not after the three-course serving of attitude you’d just eaten from your boss.

You slipped into the worn, comfy slippers you kept stashed under your desk and padded toward the bathroom, hoping a splash of cold water might wake you up, or at least wash off the sting of Gojo’s snide tone still clinging to your skin.

You left the card on your desk by accident.

Folded under a post-it note, half-covered by a printout, completely forgotten until you saw Gojo standing at your desk with it pinched between two fingers like it was radioactive.

You almost passed out on the spot.

“Didn’t know you were looking to switch departments,” he said casually.
You looked up from your spot, blinking.

“I’m not.”

You slipped back behind your desk quietly,keeping low, careful.

The last thing you needed was for Gojo to catch sight of your bunny slippers and get cranky over that too.
God forbid comfort exists within a five-meter radius of him.

He twirled the card once, then flicked it toward you. It landed perfectly aligned with the edge of your keyboard.

“Choso Kamo’s a weird one. Quiet. Too polite. He is smart though”
You said nothing. Just tucked the card into a drawer, unfazed.

“He offer you a job?” Gojo pressed.

“As a joke,” you replied. “He was just being nice.”

“People like that aren’t nice without a reason.”

You looked up at him then. Something in his voice was off. Not professional. Not friendly either. Somewhere in between.

“What reason would he have?” you asked flatly.

Gojo leaned down, resting one hand on your desk. A ghost of a smile played on his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“You’re not as invisible as you think you are,” he said. “People notice. Especially ones like him.”

You swallowed. Tried not to read into it.
He straightened up suddenly, like shaking off the moment.

“Anyway,” he said, tone snapping back to something flippant. “I need you to drop these files off at the corporate branch. Today.”

You tuned dramatically in your chair to look out of the window. Then back at him.

It was pouring.

“Now?”

“Mm-hmm.” He was already walking away.
“Bring back a coffee too. The good kind, not that burnt dishwater you got last week, maybe the one you got this morning”

You stared after him.

Seriously?

Chapter Text

There was a storm outside but a bigger one was brewing inside you.

You hadn’t brought an umbrella. You didn’t think you’d be sent out on a coffee run like some inexperienced internee.

Your heels slipped slightly on the wet pavement.

Your tote bag felt heavier than usual, your glasses fogged over, the papers you brought back,the ones you’d tucked under your coat still got half-soaked.

By the time you got back, you were drenched, shoes squishing, glasses bent from where they’d fallen after you tripped on the curb, angry red scratch on your knee.

When you walked into the office, Gojo looked up from his desk, popped a grape in his mouth, and whistled low.

“You look like you just came back from war”

“Feels like it” it came out more quietly than you expected.

He raised his eyebrows in your direction

“You knee is bleeding”

As if you weren’t already aware.

You mentally roll your eyes so hard, hard enough that they almost fell behind your skull. 

You didn’t answer.

You just dropped the file on his desk and made your way out to your desk, praying no one else saw you like this.

“Hey! wait,” Gojo called out.

You stopped.

A little light of hope flickered inside you that he might apologize for his atrocious behavior or at-least appreciate what you did.

Right?

Wrong.

The next words that came out of his mouth almost made you lunge at him and strangle him with his expensive tie.

“You forgot my coffee.”

“It spilled,” you said quietly. “On the train.”

He stared at you. Deadpan.

You pushed your glasses up, only to realize they were now warped ,one side perched higher than the other. Everything was slightly tilted, making your vision wobble.

You felt like screaming or, better yet, bursting into tears, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing either.

For one, you were still recovering from that embarrassing disaster of a first meeting.

For another, you refused to hand him the victory of making you cry.

And, most of all, you weren’t going to give up , not until he finally noticed that you were more than some glorified errand runner. You had skills. You had ideas. You had a lot more to offer than he was willing to acknowledge… and one day, he was going to have to eat every word.

But until then? You’d straighten your crooked glasses, swallow down the sting, and carry on like the crankiest, best assistant he’d ever refused to respect.

He walked over.

“You didn’t even get the papers laminated?”

You blinked hard.

Your throat tightened.

You hated how the lump in your chest was getting heavier.

This wasn’t supposed to matter .

But after everything—the snapping, the rain, the teasing

“I’ll redo them,” you muttered, turning away.

“Don’t be dramatic,” he said, walking up behind you. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

You turned back, just enough to meet his eyes. Tired. Cold. Damp.

“You sent me out in a storm for a coffee you didn’t even need.”

He tilted his head, grinning a little.

“Would’ve looked cute holding it.”

You glared.

He smirked. Then lifted his hand and

Flick.

Right on your forehead.

“Don’t pout,” he said. “Makes your glasses fog up faster.”

You flinched.

That stung more than it should.

Hands tucked into his pockets casually as if he didn’t just made you feel like some high-school girl getting bullied by the popular preppy girl who thinks she’s better than everyone else. Maybe it’s because she is. Except the preppy girl is Satoru Gojo.

But before you could walk away, he grabbed something from behind his desk chair and tossed it at you.

A black long-sleeved shirt.

Soft.

Oversized.

Definitely his.

“Change,” he said, suddenly looking back at his screen like he hadn’t just indirectly acknowledged your misery.

“You’re dripping on the floor, its imported you know”

You held the shirt.

He didn’t look at you again, but his leg bounced under the desk, rapid and restless.

“Don’t lose that shirt either,” he mumbled. “It’s one of my favorites.”

By the time you were halfway out of the door, you heard him say something about first-aid kit in the bathroom.

Look, your boss? He’s a jerk. No, scratch that he is a jerk. He’s cocky (obviously), too used to being the main character in every room, too used to everyone falling over themselves to acknowledge him.

He puts on this whole “happy-go-lucky, untouchable” persona like a tailored suit, but deep down? He’s just human. Flawed. Terrible at saying sorry. Terrible at admitting what he actually feels.

He’s built a fortress of charm and bravado because it’s easier to play the part than to risk being seen , really seen, for who he is.

But then there’s you. His assistant. The one person in the room who doesn’t acknowledge him like he’s some god.

The one person who treats him like… some rat in alley, too smug to step on too irritating to ignore or even like some spoilt teenager who goes on expensive vacations twice a year(which he does by the way)

And that annoys the hell out of him.

Why?

Because he can’t figure you out.

Not anymore.

Not after that first meeting where you were different somehow, sharp, maybe, or just more open and honest not like you aren’t now but it’s not the same.

Whatever it was, that person is long gone.

Now, you’re unreadable.

Polished.

Practiced.

Are you pretending?

Or is this just… who you are now? Or who you were all along and he got the wrong idea.

He doesn’t know, but he wants to.

And the more you hold that line, the more he wants to crack it.

Part of him wants to test your limits every chance he gets  to poke, to tease, to drag the real you out from behind that immaculate mask.

What he doesn’t know is that you’ve mastered the art of masking your emotions. Not just learned it, but live it. It takes a lot to make your mask slip too much, in fact  and that’s a secret he doesn’t have to be in on.

Not yet.

If you ask me?

It’s trauma. Pure and simple. The kind that teaches you to smile when you’re breaking, to nod when you’re burning inside.

But that’s a story for later.

Same goes for him, by the way.

Why is the great Satoru Gojo like this? Why is he so allergic to vulnerability?

Maybe that’s the thing about the two of you.

The CEO and the assistant.

The king and the shadow.

Both too good at masking emotion  one fakes it until he makes it, and the other doesn’t try at all.

And that, more than anything, is why this dynamic is about to explode.

So Stay tuned because shit will get messy.

Okay, Maybe not but let’s pretend that shall we?

Chapter Text

You: I gave tofu exactly 2 spoons of the wet food with some water and his dried fish.

Seen. 10:21am

You closed your eyes as you turned off your phone.

Gojo asked you to feed his cat on a random Saturday. Apparently, he was out of town visiting his family.

He texted you the night before saying how his housekeeper was also away, so naturally, he wanted you to check on his “little angel”. Tofu, his cat.

Spoilt rotten.

Only eats that expensive wet food, lots of cat toys and what not.

You’d expected his place to be as monochrome as his personality-sleek,all sharp lines and neutral tones. The kind of space that screamed “rich, high functioning sociopath”

Instead, you were greeted by the exact opposite.

The moment you stepped inside, it felt... warm . Cozy, even. Light streamed in through oversized windows, casting soft shadows over leafy green plants that were thriving in every corner.They sat proudly on shelves and window sills like they owned the place. You never pictured him as a plant guy or something.

But something else caught your eye,It was a blanket.

You’d knitted for his birthday,something simple, in muted shades of green and beige. You had planned to give it to him, but after seeing everyone else’s gifts sleek, high-end things wrapped in designer packaging,you hesitated. Yours felt too... cheap and embarrassing.

So instead, you quietly left it in his office with the rest of the presents. No name. No note. Just a plain card you’d made yourself, tucked inside.

You never thought he’d keep it let alone like it. Which is why it stopped you cold the first time you saw it draped casually across the couch in his living room.

You don’t care about his personal life, really. But when you get to peak into it a little you can’t help but wonder sometimes, who is Satoru Gojo?

The train ride back home was pretty long since he lived on the opposite side of the city. The rich one. Obviously.

As settle on your couch with your cat sniffing all over you like you just committed a crime. Which you did, by loving another cat.

Your cat started to rub his face all over your body. Marking his territory.

You chuckled slightly “aw ranger, don’t worry I am all yours”

You scratch the spot behind his ears, instantly activating his purring as he leans into your touch.

Your phone vibrates on the table.

Work phone.

You rolled your eyes and huffed before reaching out for it.

Gojo: good

Good? Thats it? What am I? A dog?

Only if you could reply back with a snarky text but you don’t want to end up unemployed or worse… banned from the job market.

Oh well, you’re turn to leave him on read.

Weekend passed away in a blur. Going back and forth to Gojo’s house, feeding his cat twice a day and cleaning the stinky litter box. Tofu was a menace, full of energy, demands attention and lots of snuggles.You were definitely gonna miss the furball.

Now time to lock back in.

Thats what you keep telling yourself. But here you are on your desk, hair flying in all sorts of directions, skin feeling too oily, clothes feeling more uncomfortable than usual. One minute you were sweating like sauna and the other you were shivering. Just like one of those bad school days.

While youre busy dealing with all the nonsense that the CEO himself should be doing, he is no where to be seen.

The last you heard from him was Sunday night when he texted you, a picture of Tofu passed out in his food bowl, which was the cutest thing. You figured it was his twisted way of saying ‘thank you’.

Where the hell is Gojo?

You check the time again and grabbed your phone to give him a call. But the ringing of the elevator door and the devil himself beat you to it.

You rushed out of your seat and followed your boss to his office.

Your rambling started as soon as both of you stepped inside his office.

“Mr Gojo there are so many emails that you need to look at. Its all about the shipment of the equipments to Korea-“

“Oh my gosh, would you just shut up for a second” He snapped, dragging his hand down his face as slouched in his chair.

Face all scrunched up, a little pout, one side of his mouth twitched up.

You would’ve laughed at that expression but right now yours probably isn’t any better considering what he just said.

For a second you thought your ears deceived you.

“Excuse me?”

“What now? You deaf as well? Want me repeat it for you, princess”

His voice was on the edge, sharp and threatening.

His eyes focused on the screen then flickered in your direction for a brief moment.

“Huh? no thats not-“

“I said shut up” He spat that while holding a full eye contact with you.

“Now head back to you seat and don’t bother me until I call you”

The audacity.

You stared at him for second before turning around and walking out like your dignity wasn’t bleeding all over the floor.

As soon as you get back to your desk, you sunk in your chair. Blinking fast as your eyes started to sting.

You sniffled, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

It’s not fair.

It is not fair.

It was not fair.

You leaned back and stared at window behind you, mind racing.

You refused to cry, not here at least, but sometimes he can such an asshole. He doesn’t acknowledge you like other staff members, always complaining when you’re the one doing most of the work for him.

That’s something that has always bothered you,Why did have to treat you like that.

Why is he so weird. (Says you)

Sometimes he is super nice to you but then there are times,like today, when he is an absolute jerk to you.

He is sweet to others acts like buddy-buddies with literally everyone but you.

Without wasting any more time thinking about your boss, who happens to be an idiot, you decided to lock back in to the spreadsheet on your monitor.

Hours tick by, no complaints or whining from Mr Gojo. It was quiet until, the numbers and letters on the screen were getting blurry.

You removed your glasses to rub your sore eyes, probably smudging your mascara in the process. Until someone rudely taps on your desk.

You hastily looked up one hand still on your eye.

“Mr Gojo?” Blinking, you stood up from your spot knocking some things down on your desk.

“I said don’t bother me, you didn’t had to cry about it” His voice was quiet. No silly smirk or that teasing tone.

“I.. I am not crying” your eyes feel from his face to your desk.

You were not entertaining that. You were tired. You were exhausted and those tired, dark eyes said it all.

Gojo eyes lingered on your face a little, his gaze flicked to your fidgety hands.

“You have my card right?”

Your head snapped up,

“Uh Yeah, I do. Did you want it back?”

He shook his head casually. “Nah. Keep it. Go buy yourself something.”

He pulled his hand out of his pocket to check the time, then glanced back at you lips quirking just slightly as he caught the flicker of confusion on your face.

Your braining was not brain-ing.

“Huh, anything?” Brows knitting together.

“Yeah anything, go treat yourself today”

“Do I have a limit?”

He gave a lopsided grin, eyes twinkling. “No, not really… I mean as long as you don’t buy something illegal... or, like, a house.” The teasing lilt in his voice was unmistakable. And annoying.

“Oh, and you can go home once you’re done with the emails—or whatever you’re always scowling at. Just send me the delivery reports first.”

And just like that, he was gone. Again.

See, it’s the conversations like this that make you want to rip your own hair out.

Because what the hell is that supposed to mean?

One second he’s telling you to shut up like you’re some background noise, the next he’s telling you to use his card like some sugar daddy and he says it so casually— “Go buy yourself something.”

He probably thinks Flashing his black card will solve everything. Well it does but in this case it doesn’t.

What you needed right now was an apology or maybe an explanation why he had to be so rude.

What you would appreciate more is a clear answer. A straight sentence. Something that doesn’t make you second-guess yourself for the rest of the day.

But no—Gojo Satoru doesn’t do normal . He doesn’t do clarity .

You want him to talk to you like a real person. Not a subordinate.

But no, he hands you his card and tells you to “go buy something” like that’s the same as communicating .

He is impossible.

Later that day you did try to test the limit on his card.

Chapter Text

Satoru Gojo was in the office earlier than usual.Hands tucked in his pockets, sunglasses on, signature smirk plastered across his face.

What wasn’t usual, though, was the empty desk by the elevators.

No assistant. No voice yapping at him about his schedule or some department crisis he couldn’t care less about. No overenthusiastic rundown of his day before his second cup of coffee.

Weird.

He slowed to a stop beside her desk, eyes scanning the little decorations she kept. Then, like the menace he was, he walked behind her desk and started snooping through her drawers.

“Fidget toys… sticky tack… candles… uhh, rocks?” He smacked his lips, dragging out the last word like it personally offended him. “Boring.” Next drawer. His fingers paused. Then lit up.

“Oh now we’re talking.” His eyes sparkled like a child seeing a Christmas tree for the first time. “Chocolates and candies…”

Zero hesitation—he grabbed the half-open bag of Sour Patch Kids like it belonged to him and strolled back into his office.

He powered up his laptop and, while it booted, unlocked his phone to scan through the emails and messages he’d ignored the night before.

Then he stopped.

Lowered his sunglasses slowly,dramatically and set them on the desk.

His brows furrowed, eyes narrowing at the screen like he’d just uncovered state secrets. But then… his lips pulled into a slow, amused smile.

He twirled his phone once in his hand.

“Oh, this is gonna be interesting.”

You walked into his office at your usual time, coffee in hand. But the sight of him already upright and typing at his desk made you jump slightly.

“Good morning, Mr. Gojo,” you said, placing the cup in front of him. “You’re early today.”

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes swept over you from head to toe absolutely shameless .

“Yeah. Got some paperwork to sign and a deal to close with investors.”

“I remember that,” you replied, clasping your hands in front of you. “Will I be joining?”

He shrugged lazily. “I’ll see. Probably. Who else is gonna handle the boring part while I look pretty?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but he cut you off before you could.

“Nice perfume, by the way,” he added, tilting his head and inhaling deeply. “Is it new?”

“I’ve never smelled this on you before,” he said, almost to himself. “Smells good.”

Wait.

He smells you often enough to know your usual scent?

Creepy.

The thing is, you tried not to go overboard with the shopping. Really. It was a petty move, sure but he did say “anything,” didn’t he? You just needed something to lift your mood. Something to help you feel the tiniest bit in control again.

Unfortunately, your boss had eyes.
And a mouth.
And absolutely no shame.

The smug expression he was wearing right now made it obvious he saw the purchases on his card. And judging by the way he was enjoying himself, he was absolutely going to use them to mess with you.

“Yeah, thanks. I bought this yesterday, actually,” you said, casually tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and pretending you weren’t dying inside.

“Oh, look at the time,” you blurted, voice pitched a little too high. “I should really go prep your schedule for the day.”

You laughed awkwardly and practically bolted from his office. Thankfully, he didn’t say a word—just leaned back with that infuriating smirk, watching you retreat, no doubt noting how your new perfume lingered in the air.

Back at your desk, you collapsed into your chair and buried your face in your hands with a quiet groan.

“Why is he like this ?” you muttered, right as the private elevator dinged again.

You sat up, startled, just as a man in a crisp dress shirt stepped into the office. You didn’t remember Mr. Gojo expecting anyone, and the fact that this stranger came through the private elevator made you instinctively furrow your brows.

“Sorry,can I help you?” you asked, sitting up straighter.

“Hi, I’m here to see Satoru,” the man said with a warm smile.

Satoru. First name basis. Okay, so he was definitely an acquaintance. Maybe. You still didn’t want to assume, what if he was here to poison your boss or something? (Honestly, you wouldn’t even blame him.)

You shook the thought off and checked the screen. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see any appointments for Mr. Gojo today. Are you sure he’s expecting you?”

You hesitated for a second, then added, “I can double check with him, just to be safe. I’d rather not get in trouble.” You gestured politely to the couch behind him. “Please feel free to have a seat.”

Before you could make it to Gojo’s office, the door swung open.

“Oh,Mr. Gojo, I was just about to ask you. There’s a man here to see you, he said- ”

Gojo stepped fully into the hallway and looked over. “Oh yeah? Who’s- oh! Suguru! Long time no see!” he said, voice echoing down the corridor as his face lit up.

The man stood and walked toward him, smiling wide. Gojo opened his arms and pulled him into a friendly hug, patting his chest with one hand while slinging the other around his shoulder.

“How’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know. Same old. Work and chaos. You?”

“Don’t ask. I’ve been insanely busy. It’s been a mess lately,” Gojo replied with a dramatic sigh.

Insanely Busy? Mess? Was your hearing off again? He’d literally been playing Mario Kart for half the morning.

He’s so dramatic, you thought, rolling your eyes discreetly as you turned back to your desk.

Then;

“You’ve got an assistant now, huh?” Suguru said, glancing in your direction.

You froze halfway into your chair.
Deciding it was way too awkward to sit down now, you just… stood.

Gojo looked over his shoulder, grinning,really grinning, not his usual smirk—and for the first time ever, he introduced you by name. Your full name. Not just “my assistant.”

That… actually caught you off guard. You smoothed your expression and offered Suguru a polite, professional smile.

“Nice to meet you,” Suguru said, his tone light. “I’m Suguru Geto. I’m this idiot’s best friend, if you’re wondering why I’m letting him hang off me like this.”

You nearly laughed, despite yourself,the look on Gojo’s face was priceless.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Geto,” you said with a slight nod. “If you need anything while you’re here, just let me know.”

They headed into Gojo’s office, still chatting, and you sat down at your desk at last.

Only then did you let yourself exhale.

While you were at your desk, quietly flipping through some of the notes you made for the morning briefing, the low hum of laughter slipped through Gojo’s office door.

Inside, Satoru sat slouched on the couch beside his best friend, coat hanging over his chair, sleeves rolled to his forearms, top buttons undone. The rare look of ease on his face made him seem younger, less CEO, more just some guy talking to his best friend on a lazy afternoon.

“So,” Suguru said, arms stretched lazily across the back of the couch, “what’s up with your assistant?”

Gojo turned his head, one brow raised. “Huh? My assistant? What about her?”

Suguru narrowed his eyes. “I mean… since when do you even have an assistant? You never let anyone manage your calendar, let alone your house key. What changed?”

He didn’t say it, but Gojo could tell what he was really thinking: Why her?
Especially after hearing during that family dinner that she -not a family member, not a friend was taking care of his cat while he was gone.
No one went to Gojo’s house. No one.

Gojo exhaled a long breath and leaned back, running a hand through his hair before resting his head on the couch cushion. His tone softened slightly, not defensive,just tired.

“It’s not like that, honestly.”

Suguru gave him a look that said sure, totally believable, but didn’t interrupt.

“My first impression of her?” Gojo let out a laugh, the kind that came from remembering something so chaotic it had stuck. “Batshit. I mean, she was practically clawing her way out of the building’s security guard’s arms, screaming about how unfair the hiring system was..like..some angry little gremlin in glasses.”

He shook his head fondly. “But she was determined. I dunno… she wasn’t scared. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone. She just wanted in. And something about that stuck with me. We didn’t have any positions open at the time, but I figured—why not test her out? Let her work with me directly and see how far she could go.”

Suguru hummed in response, his expression unreadable, but he was listening.

“She’s good,” Gojo continued. “Really good. Scary organized. Freakishly competent. The kind of person who always knows what to say in a room full of assholes in suits.” He glanced toward the office door briefly. “I’ve been... not the easiest to deal with. And she hasn’t quit. That says something, right?”

Suguru leaned in slightly, studying him. “You yelled at her?”

Gojo rolled his eyes to the ceiling and muttered, “ Occasionally. ”

Then, after a beat, “Okay,yeah. I might’ve yelled at her. Once. Or twice. Maybe... five times? But I was stressed.”

“You stress-yell at the only person keeping your life from collapsing?”

Gojo groaned and pressed a hand over his face. “It’s not like I plan to. It just happens. And then she gives me that look, like I’ve personally offended her entire bloodline, and I feel like shit for the rest of the day.”

“You don’t apologize, do you?”

“I.. no… She gets over it.”

Suguru raised a brow. “You sure about that?”

Gojo didn’t answer right away. He just stared up at the ceiling, thumb rubbing at a nonexistent smudge on the rim of his glasses. “She bought some stuff yesterday,” he said after a while. “With my card. I told her she could. She didn’t even go crazy—like, a few things. Nothing insane.”

“And?”

Satoru blinked and sat up a little. “And I was just teasing her about the perfume she wore this morning. That’s all.”

Suguru lifted his eyebrows. “Okay. And is that it?”

Gojo let out another dramatic sigh and slumped back into the couch, arms crossed.

“No, actually,” he said, eyes narrowing slightly. “She went to some beauty store and bought god-knows-what serums, potions, face-melting creams, I don’t know. Spent a big fortune there. Then she went to some clothing boutique that literally called me last night for a pre-authorization request because she bought a very expensive pair of shoes and half the damn rack. She went feral. ”

Suguru watched him with amusement as Gojo threw his hands up.

“And when I tried to ask her about it this morning nicely, by the way guess what she did?”

“What?”

Gojo dropped his voice into a high, awkward pitch and mimicked her with a dramatic wave of his hand.

“Oh, hahaha, look at the time! I have to go arrange your schedule, Mr. Gojo! Haha blah blah , back to work!”

He pouted, crossed his arms like a grumpy toddler, and flopped sideways into the couch cushions.

Suguru lost it.

He doubled over, clutching his stomach, laughter echoing through the office as Gojo scowled beside him.

“You’re such a dumbass,” Suguru managed between laughs. “Let me get this straight you yelled at her, then told her to buy something nice for herself, she actually did and now you’re tweaking because she spent your money?”

“I didn’t tweak out, ” Gojo muttered.

“Are you sure?” Suguru wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “Because I just heard you accuse her of going feral over a moisturizer.”

“It was a lot of moisturizer!”

Suguru shook his head, chuckling. “That’s what’s bothering you? Really, Satoru?”

Gojo was quiet for a second, then mumbled under his breath, “No. What’s bothering me is that she won’t even look me in the eye anymore. She laughed, but it wasn’t real. And now she’s... I don’t know. Quiet. And awkward, well she is usually awkward, but this is different”

Suguru’s smile faded just a bit. “So talk to her. Or maybe try not yelling next time.”

Gojo groaned. “I wasn’t yelling. I was... being firm.”

Suguru just raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, fine. I yelled a little.”

Their heads snapped toward the knock on the door.

Naturally, Satoru called out in a loud, obnoxious, “ WHAT? ”

Suguru, without missing a beat, jabbed his knee into Gojo’s with a dry look.

“ Ow, ” Gojo muttered, rubbing the spot just as you walked in, awkward, as always.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt, Mr. Gojo,” you began, clutching the tablet in your hands like it might shield you from whatever mood he was in today, “but I just received a call from the spokesman for the investors. They’re asking some questions about the meeting today. Would you like to handle it?”

Your eyes flickered from your boss to his best friend, both slouched across the couch like lazy cats. Really intimidating, judgmental cats.

Before Gojo could say anything, you quickly added, “Or, if you're busy, I can take care of it? I mean, I already have everything prepared and I know the agenda. I can meet with them in five minutes and walk them through the terms if you’d rather not be disturbed.”

Suguru blinked at you, then slowly

turned to raise his eyebrows at Satoru.
Gojo opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

You all stood in an extended loop of awkward eye contact like no one knew what room they were in anymore.

Then Suguru cleared his throat, turning to his friend with a grin. “Why don’t you let her handle it? She seems confident. And we can go grab lunch. Unless you want to face those old chunkers yourself.”

Gojo considered it for a second. Then he waved a hand lazily.
“Yeah, whatever. You know what to do, right?”

“Yes, sir,” you said automatically, standing straighter shoulders squared, voice firm. You would’ve looked like a soldier reporting to her general if your glasses hadn’t started sliding down your nose, which you quickly pushed back up.

Gojo narrowed his eyes. “You’ve got the notes I made? All the paperwork?”

You froze. For a split second, it felt like the floor had disappeared.

“Yes, sir,” you replied again, this time more composed. “Everything’s on my desk. Would you like to check it? I double-checked it this morning to make sure we have everything.”

Suguru snorted quietly, amused by the dynamic unfolding before him, his best friend trying (and failing) to look intimidating, and his assistant remaining absolutely deadpan through it all.

If only he knew you were internally shaking like a wet dog.

Your heart was hammering, your brain screaming for Gojo to make a decision already . Just go or don’t. Stop dragging it out. You couldn’t stay in that room any longer like this, especially when there is a very attractive man sitting on the couch with your, equally or even more attractive, boss. You didn’t want him to yell at you and embarrass you in front of his friend.

Gojo finally sighed. “Alright. Go handle it. Call me if anything blows up. Or don’t. Honestly, I don’t care. I’ll head out soonyou’ve got the rest covered.”

Suguru watched him, smirking faintly. Trusting someone else to run point? That was new.

He glanced over at you, noting the wide eyes, the twitch of your mouth, the slight blinking like you were trying to form a sentence—but didn’t.

“Okay. Yes, sir.”

And just like that, you spun around and nearly tripped over your own feet on the way out, leaving the door open behind you in your haste.

Suguru chuckled. “She’s terrified of you.”

Gojo grumbled, reaching for his glasses again. “She hides it well.”

Suguru tilted his head. “She hides everything well. Except, you know... when you ask her a direct question and she turns into a malfunctioning printer.”

Gojo rubbed his jaw, staring at the door you’d just bolted through

“…She’ll be fine,” he said finally, as if trying to convince himself.

Suguru didn’t reply.

He just smiled, slow, knowing, and a little smug.

“Did you see her shoes, by the way?” Suguru asked suddenly, turning his head toward Satoru with a raised eyebrow.

“Nooo… Why would I be looking at her feet, you freak-”
Gojo paused mid-sentence, then squinted, realization dawning like a flicked-on lightbulb.

“...Ohhh.”

“Ahann…”

Their eyes met in mutual understanding.

“Well,” Gojo said, leaning back smugly, “at least they matched her outfit this time.”

He snorted at the memory of some of her more experimental fashion choices.

.

Suguru chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t know about all that. But hey!maybe you can wear your red bottoms next time to match with her.”

He reached over and gave Gojo’s

shoulder a firm, mocking squeeze. They shared a dry laugh like two teenagers watching their friend try to walk in heels for the first time.

“Nah,” Gojo grinned, shaking his head. “Just wait. She’s gonna trip and break something in those. No wonder she looked extra tall this morning I thought I was shrinking.”

He stood and wandered over to his desk, grabbing his coat and slipping his wallet into his pocket with practiced ease.

“Anyway, let’s get going. Karaoke? Or should we hit a rec room first and then grab food?”

“Let’s do both,” Suguru said as he stretched, arms high above his head before standing up.

Satoru grinned, all teeth. “ Say less. ”

And just like that, the two of them left the office—one still pretending he totally didn’t notice her shoes first thing that morning, and the other very much knowing better.

Chapter Text

“So you’re telling me all these forms are correct?” Gojo asks, flipping through the papers in his hands with mild suspicion.

You’re standing beside his desk, close enough to see the exact lines he's skimming.

“Yes, sir. You see this one here-” you lean slightly over his shoulder, pointing at a section with your finger, “-there were some errors I fixed yesterday.”

You’re close. Too close. Close enough to catch the scent clinging to him, amber and sandalwood, laced with something sweet. Vanilla, maybe.

Even his cologne smells expensive.

You straighten back into place as his eyes remain fixed on you, unreadable.

“Um, yeah, so I just need your approval. That’s it. You just have to go through it again and... yeah.” You trail off, your thoughts hazy. His scent was oddly comforting. Lulling.

“I don’t think I need to go through this again,” he says casually, shutting the binder with a soft thud before handing it back to you. “Everything looks good to me.”

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” he says, leaning back into his chair with a faint smile.

“Okay,” you respond, your voice tinged with hesitation.

“Oh, also,” you begin again, shifting your weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, “the Kyoto branch emailed. Something about documents needing your signature. Would you be able to take care of that?”

Gojo tilts his head, studying you. “What’s it about?”

You shrug. “They didn’t say much. Just that it’s confidential. No attachments or follow-up.”

He hums. “Well, you can handle that from now on. You’re my assistant. there’s nothing they should be keeping from you. Sign it for me, would you?”

You freeze.

“I.. wait. I can’t do that.”

“Who said you can’t?”

“But-”

“No.”

“What-?”

“No.”

“Sir-”

“No-”

“-No, let me finish.” You raise your hand between you like a stop sign, your voice suddenly firm. “You’re the CEO. Not me. I can’t be signing off on confidential files like that. I mean, yes, I handle a lot for you,but please don’t put me in a position where people start getting the wrong idea.”

He spins slightly in his chair, staring at you with mild amusement. Your words hang in the air.

You quickly soften your tone. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re right,” he says after a long sigh, his eyes slipping shut for a moment. “I shouldn’t be doing that.” His voice is quieter now, almost distracted. “Just email me what I need to look over, yeah?”

“Yes, sir.” You nod, then turn and walk back to your desk.

You never know what’s going on in his head. He’s unpredictable. Infuriatingly so.

You shake your head and sit down, refocusing on your screen.

Back in his office, Gojo opens his eyes again. He stares blankly at the wall clock for a moment, then at the hazy outline of your desk through the frosted glass.

And somewhere in his mind, Suguru’s voice echoes.

“You know,” Suguru began casually, watching as Satoru took a slow sip of his tea, “you should trust your assistant.”

Satoru sighed, twirling the cup in his hands as the warm caramel-colored liquid spun lazily. “I don’t know, man. She’s good,really good,but she’s…-“ He scrunched his nose a little trying to find the right word but  “- she is… she is weird”

Suguru let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “That I won’t disagree with. She is odd. But I think part of it is you. You’ve got this… intense aura around you. Especially when she’s near. It’s like you’re trying to scare her on purpose.”

A slow smile tugged at Satoru’s lips. He remembered all those moments lowering his voice an octave, staring her down with deliberately sharp eyes just to see her squirm. And she always did, even if she tried to act like she wasn’t. Her face stayed blank, cold even, unreadable, but her body language always gave her away. A slight twitch of her fingers, the way she shifted her weight, the stiff set of her shoulders.

“She really tries to hide it,” he mused. “Pretends she’s not nervous, but I know she is.”

Suguru raised an eyebrow. “And why are you trying to make her nervous in the first place?”

Satoru shrugged with a lazy grin. “I tried being friendly. Cracked some jokes around her. Tried being playful, even sent her a few memes. Nothing. No reaction. Not even a fake laugh.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “So I gave up.”

“Maybe she just needs time-”

“Time?” Satoru cut in, leaning forward a bit. “She’s been here almost a year. A whole year. How much time does she need?” His tone held a mix of frustration and something else, something unsettled. “She’s too stuck-up. Too professional. It’s like she refuses to loosen up.”

He leaned back again with a sigh. “I sent her TikToks, Suguru. Good ones. Said all the dumb internet stuff people are supposed to find funny. You know I speak fluent brain rot.”

“And?”

“She didn’t even smile. Just blinked and went back to organizing spreadsheets like I hadn’t said anything at all.”

He looked genuinely bothered.

Suguru smiled behind the rim of his cup. “Maybe that’s exactly why you need to give her a little more time. Be patient, and seriously, stop making fun of her. It doesn’t help your case.”

Satoru scoffed, visibly offended. “I don’t make fun of her.”

“Oh yeah?” Suguru tilted his head, one brow raised. “Is that why you told me she dresses like a grandma? Or how you told her not to wear certain clothes to meetings because it makes a bad impression on your reputation?”

Satoru’s eyes darted everywhere but toward his best friend. The mug in his hand suddenly became very interesting.

Checkmate.

Suguru smirked. “You underestimate her too much. You talk about her work like she’s irreplaceable, the way she keeps everything in order, handles the messes you ignore, but then you act like she’s just some awkward intern. She’s serious about her job. Maybe you should trust that.”

Satoru stayed quiet, letting Suguru’s words settle in. His mind flicked through all the moments, her cleaning up disasters he didn’t even know existed, her crisp, thorough meeting notes, her meticulous planning, her maddeningly calm and overly professional voice that grated on him only because it felt like a mask.

A mask she wore just for him.

“Give her some actual responsibility,” Suguru said, taking another sip of tea. “If she doesn’t do well, fire her. Simple. You’re the CEO, remember?”

“I guess…” Satoru murmured, just as his phone buzzed on the table.

He grabbed it with idle curiosity and glanced at the screen, already smiling. “Oh look, it’s her. Probably messed something up-”

But the words died on his tongue as he read the message. His grin faded instantly.

Suguru leaned forward, sensing the shift. “What is it?”

Still stunned, Satoru turned the screen toward him.

Cranky-Assistant:
The investors signed the contract. You need to seal the documents with your signature and approve it.

Suguru let out a low laugh, smug as ever, and jabbed a finger toward the phone. “See? What did I say? Trust her. She’s good.”

Satoru’s mouth was still slightly agape as he reread the message, one hand frozen midair.

“Start treating her like an actual assistant,” Suguru added, amused. “Not a babysitter.”

Trust her a little.

Suguru’s voice echoed in Satoru’s mind long after he left. The room was quiet now, save for the faint ticking of the wall clock and the occasional buzz of an email notification. Satoru leaned back in his chair, phone resting face-down on the desk, and stared up at the ceiling like it had answers.

He knew his assistant was good. More than good. Sharp, efficient, meticulous. The kind of person who caught errors before they even happened. But still, he refused to say it out loud. To admit that someone else might be almost as good as him.

So why did he hire her in the first place?

It wasn’t because she had the best resume. Or the most experience.No, it was the way she acted during her first interview.

He hadn’t been in the room himself, he rarely was for mid-level hires; but he remembered watching her through the office’s internal camera feed.

He had it playing on a second screen while he answered emails, barely paying attention at first. But then she walked in, sat down, with this calm, detached confidence, like she already knew the job was hers.

And when she didn’t get the job?

She lost it.

The second she stepped out into the lobby and learned they'd gone with someone else, she snapped.

Her voice stayed low, but her words were sharp, slicing.

She called the process “mismanaged,” accused the coordinator of wasting her time, said it was clear the company valued appearances more than competence.

Security was called.

Satoru remembered the alert flashing on his screen. He walked down to the front himself, mostly out of curiosity.

And there she was, standing at the exit, bag slung over one shoulder, eyes narrowed and mouth set in a line so tight it could cut glass.

A guard hovered awkwardly beside her, waiting to escort her out. And she-

She looked him in the eye .

No embarrassment. No apology. Just this stubborn, almost arrogant tension in her jaw like she didn’t give a damn who he was.

As if he should explain himself to her .

He almost laughed.

He hired because he wanted to test her.

He wanted to break her.

Simple as that.

Wanted her to see how hard this job really was. How insane it could get under pressure. He piled work on her desk like it was a game. Sent her conflicting emails just to see if she’d snap. Changed meeting times last minute to throw her off. He threw everything at her. Not because she deserved it, but because his ego couldn’t stand the idea of someone walking in and keeping up with him .

He wanted to crack her walls down. Wanted to make her quit.

She didn’t.

She adjusted, adapted, stayed professional even when he knew she wanted to scream. She showed up every day, sleeves rolled up, cold expression in place, voice clear and robotic like she was made of glass and concrete.

And she proved him wrong.

She never broke. Never flinched.

The thing that annoyed him most?

She never even tried to impress him. She just did her job, better than expected.

Now here he was, sitting alone in his glass office, watching her silhouette through the frosted divider as she typed away at her desk like nothing ever touched her. Like she hadn’t just closed one of the biggest contracts this quarter without needing him to babysit a single step.

His jaw clenched.

It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly. But it was something. Something ugly that sat in his throat.

She wasn’t just good.
She was dangerously good.

And he hated how much he was starting to respect her for it.

Chapter Text

Another boring day at the office.
Satoru Gojo, nowhere to be seen, as usual.

You spun slowly in your chair, stretching just far enough to grab your phone from the edge of the desk. With nothing urgent left on your plate, you scrolled through social media, hoping it would help pass the time.

No luck. Everything looked the same repetitive, predictable, and painfully dull.
Kind of like your life right now.

You’d already wrapped up most of your work for the day, leaving you with nothing but spare time. Unless, of course, your boss decided to pull a last-minute stunt which, honestly, wouldn’t be surprising.

Speaking of the boss… he was probably off loitering somewhere with his best friend.

Not that you cared.
Well.

Maybe a little.

But you’d die before admitting that out loud.

Ever since that meeting with the investors, Gojo had been, oddly more reliant on you. At first, it was subtle. Now? Impossible to ignore. He’d always dumped extra work on you when it suited him, but this was different.
He let you take calls solo. Trusted you with full meetings. Gave you actual decision-making power.

Weird.

Because Gojo never let anyone do anything. Especially not someone like you.

But it was also… validating. Kind of nice, in a disorienting way. Like he was finally acknowledging what you were capable of. Like all the over-preparing, the staying late, the quiet suffering might finally be worth something.
He hadn’t said anything, of course. But the trust? That was new.
And you weren’t entirely sure what to do with it.

You reached for your phone again and sighed, spinning slowly in your chair, letting the silence settle around you like a heavy coat.

Gojo was gone.
The office was quiet.
Your inbox was empty.
And for the first time in a long while… you weren’t drowning.
You were just floating.

Waiting.

Enjoying this moment.

So peaceful.

So quiet.

Then, the phone rang shrill as , obnoxiously, and entirely too loud.

You rolled your eyes and groaned. You let it ring. And ring. And ring.

Finally, with the grace of someone being dragged out of a nap, you snatched the receiver and switched on your “professional” voice.

“Hello, Mr. Gojo’s office. How may I help you?”

“Heyyyyy, hope I’m not bothering you. I know you’re super busy but I wanted to ask something-?”

A nervous voice crackled through the receiver.

“Uhhh… sorry, who is this?”

“Oh! Right, my bad. It’s me, Yuji Itadori.”

You adjusted in your seat, tucking your legs up to your chest.

“Oh. Hi Yuji. How can I help you?”

“So here’s the thing…we’ve been working on this upcoming project, me and the other interns, and um… we’re kind of having some issues with the, uh… you know..”

“Yuji.” You sighed, already pulling up the internal database. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you think you could help us? We tried asking mid-operations for guidance and they basically shooed us away, and I didn’t know who else to call. Since you work directly with Mr. Gojo, I figured maybe..”

“Yes,” you said, cautious. “But I need details. What kind of issue are we talking about?”

“It’s the protocols. We emailed licensing about material usage approvals, but they never responded. And we really need to wrap this up before the company anniversary event in couple weeks. Please, please help us. We even tried calling the licensing office, but they’re just total assholes.”

He paused for dramatic flair.
“Boss lady, you’re our last hope.”

Boss lady?

Ew. That sounded like you are ewww

No no

You physically cringed.

“Please don’t ever call me that again,” you muttered. “And yes, I can call licensing. Just send me the full details and I’ll see what I can do.”

You were already typing out a follow-up email as Yuji kept rambling in gratitude.

“Oh my god, you’re the best! I owe you,no, wait! we all owe you! Thank you, seriously-”

“Yeah, yeah, no worries. Just don’t forget the details,” you said flatly, already zoning him out as you focused on the project files. Your tone wasn’t cold, just distracted. Efficiency wasn’t the same as being an asshole.

“Copy that!” he chirped, and you hung up.

A few emails later, Gojo’s name slapped confidently at the bottom, urgent subject lines and all, you were already halfway through untangling their mess.

No wonder licensing hadn’t responded. The proposal had more holes than Swiss cheese. You fixed what you could, flagged what you couldn’t, and sent off a new round of inquiries.
Let’s just say… that kept you busy for a while.

Until…

Oh well.

It was currently 1:35 p.m.
Still no sign of Satoru Gojo.

There was paperwork on your desk that required his signature, and his signature only. On top of that, there were a handful of forms that needed to be filled out manually.

By hand. With a pen. In the year 2025.

And yet, that wasn’t even the worst part.

Emails were pouring in. The phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Requests from various departments kept showing up like cockroaches, random, erratic, and somehow always your problem.

Everyone wanted something. Everyone expected you to fix it.

So much for your peaceful morning.

You groaned, loud and unfiltered, gripping your hair in both hands before slumping back in your chair. Your voice echoed through the empty floor like a dying siren.

“Gojo Satoru! Where the fuck are you?!”

No answer, of course. Just the familiar sound of your sanity unraveling.

Muttering under your breath, you grabbed your work phone and shot him a message. Short, professional, only slightly unhinged:

Need you in the office ASAP. Several documents require your signature. Where are you?

You tossed the phone back on the desk and turned your attention to a new crisis: the shipping logs.

Specifically, the list of equipment that had been sent out recently.
And more specifically, how nobody had properly handled the checklist they were supposed to follow.

Of course they didn’t.
Of course they left it half-assed.
And of course, it would fall on you to clean it up, because if anything went wrong, guess who’d get blamed?

Not logistics.

Not operations.

You.

Because people around here loved pointing fingers. Especially the ones who couldn’t stand that you were competent.

Jealous pricks.

You checked your phone again. A spark of hope, maybe a miracle, something.
Instead, what you saw nearly made you launch yourself out the nearest window.

“Read.”

Ten minutes ago.

He left you on read.

You blinked at the screen, then slowly, silently lowered your head onto the desk.

Not even dramatically. Just defeated.

You let your forehead rest against the cool wood, exhaling slowly as you tried to sort through the chaos in your mind and come up with a plan. A rough, desperate mental checklist of what needed to be done, in what order, and how to make it through the next few hours without losing your job or your grip on reality.

And the CEO? he just left you on read .

Meanwhile, somewhere at a  fancy restaurant Satoru Gojo is laughing like his assistant isnt at the verge of breaking down.

You stare at it like maybe, if you will it hard enough, it'll stop on its own.

Spoiler: it doesn’t.

But you don’t pick it up either.

God knows how much trouble I’ll be in if I don’t answer, you think.
What if it’s someone important? What if it’s someone from operations asking for another copy of that outdated, poorly labeled spreadsheet from 2019 that they somehow lost again?

Still, your hand doesn’t move.

“No. I don’t care. I’m not picking this up.”

If the boss isn’t here to handle his mess, you’re not volunteering as tribute.

You just sit there, frozen in protest, watching the phone vibrate itself slowly across the desk like it’s trying to escape the weight of capitalism too. Finally, finally, it stops. You exhale the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

Spinning around in your chair, you reach for your snack drawer, hoping a little sugar might make things bearable.

Pause.

Your hand hovers.

Blink.

Once.

Twice.

A weird, almost unhinged smile tugs at your lips as you stare at the almost-empty drawer.

Who the hell ate my candy?

No one’s allowed on this floor without a keycard. No one even likes coming up here unless they’re being yelled at. Who in their right mind would walk over to someone’s desk and steal their snacks?

Only one name comes to mind.

Satoru. Freaking. Gojo.

The name echoes in your head like the voice over the intercom on a train station platform.
Calm, clinical, soul-crushing.

Your eye twitches.

A slow, maddening grin spreads across your face like a cracked porcelain doll trying to hold it together.

This is ridiculous.

You’re tired, overstimulated, and now snackless. And your boss?
Probably halfway through a soufflé, smiling with his stupid perfect teeth while your whole career circles the drain like a flushed toilet.

Someone’s going to cry today.
It might be you.
Or it might be Satoru Gojo.

And honestly, you're fine with either.

Satoru Gojo strutted into the office like he owned the entire building.
(He technically did. But that wasn’t the point.)

Flashing that annoyingly charming smile at the front desk, he tossed a wink at one of the receptionists who giggled behind her computer screen. It was like walking in slow motion, cologne and charisma trailing behind him. Everyone he passed did a double-take, or pretended not to. He knew the effect he had on people.
He thrived on it.

Stepping into the private elevator, he finally glanced at his watch.
3:54 PM.
“Shit,” he muttered, rubbing his temple.

He was supposed to be back hours ago.
He told you he'd be out for a "bit", a bit apparently turned into an entire damn day.

Oh well. He shrugged to himself. You’d get over it.

Probably.

The elevator doors dinged open, and the moment he stepped out, he felt it.

That aura. That pressure . That dangerous energy.

Your glare.

You sat at your desk like a final boss. Arms crossed, expression murderous, shoulders tense. Glasses off. Boring ponytail down. Ugly Sweater missing. Honestly?

You looked unhinged.

Unhinged, but- distractingly pretty.

Gojo blinked, then immediately dismissed that thought.

Pretty?

No?

What?

No way.

Must be the lighting.

His brows lifted slowly in amusement, and that cocky little smirk curled onto his lips as he sauntered toward your desk.

“What's going on with you? What’s that look for?” he asked, feigning innocence, stopping directly in front of you.

Your voice cracked, hoarse from a day of stress and not enough hydration.

“ What’s going on with me? Where the hell were you ?”

“Sorry, I was out,” he said casually, leaning over your desk like it wasn’t a barrier between life and death right now. His hand reached out, snagging your glasses without permission.

“Hey”

He slid his sunglasses down and tried yours on. The frames were slightly crooked on his face, which somehow made it worse.

“Oh, they’re reading glasses?” he grinned, looking at his reflection in the black screen of your monitor. “I thought you were actually blind and needed these, Four Eyes.”

He chuckled.

You didn’t laugh.

In fact, you were mentally listing every single inappropriate nickname he’s thrown your way since day one.

Cranky-chan.
Grandma.
Four eyes.

And what not

Seriously, was he five ?

You pinched the bridge of your nose and exhaled through your teeth. “Where were you? You’ve got reports to approve, the finance team’s been breathing down my neck all morning, and someone from PR called twice asking if you died.”

“Aw,” he said with a mock pout, placing your glasses carefully back down, “you worried about me?”

“No.”
You jabbed an accusatory finger toward your desk drawer.
“Did you eat my sour candy?”

He blinked.
Paused.
Then looked extremely guilty for exactly 0.3 seconds.

“...uhhh no?” he said slowly.

“Liar”

“……..”

“Oh my God,” you muttered. “You absolute menace. You think I don’t notice when things go missing? Who else would even come up here ?”

He leaned in just a little, voice lower. “Maybe I was stress eating.”

You stared at him.

“You weren’t even here to be stressed!”

Gojo gave you a shrug like that solved everything, then grinned again, easy, unbothered, maddeningly gorgeous.

You wanted to throw something at him.

Maybe your glasses.

Maybe him.

Gojo didn’t bother responding, just turned on his heel, still wearing your glasses like they were his now, like he hadn’t just stolen them five minutes ago.

You watched him walk away toward his office, your irritation spiking with every step he took.

Those are prescription, you lunatic.

Sighing hard enough to fog glass, you got up and trailed after him like a reluctant duckling following its predator.

He pushed open the door to his office with the usual dramatic flair, didn’t hold it open for you, and plopped down onto his absurdly expensive ergonomic chair like he didn’t have a care in the world.

You closed the door behind you, firmly, not slamming, but enough to make a point.

“There are papers that need your signature,” you began, your voice sharp. “With actual ink, not an e-signature or digital approval that you usually do”

He leaned back, stretching like a cat in the sun, still not looking at you.

“And you need to call back the Kyoto department. They’re being cagey about protocols again! told me they couldn’t disclose details with me because I wasn’t ‘executive level.’”

Gojo made a noncommittal noise, tossing a grape from his desk into his mouth like this was snack time and not a full-blown office emergency. Still wearing your damn glasses.

You walked over and slapped the file down on his desk with enough force to make a soft thud.

“Can I have my glasses my back now?”

He looked up at you through your glasses, crooked on his nose, too small for his face, absolutely ridiculous and grinned.

“They make me look smarter, don’t they?” he said with a wink. “Like I read financial reports instead of skimming for keywords.”

You deadpanned. “You don’t read financial reports.”

“Exactly. That’s the power of accessories.”

You stared at him.

He stared back.

”Whats the magic word?”

”Please”

That came out rather quickly out of your mouth. You were done with his bullshit already 

Then, he sighed. Almost real this time. He reached up and slid the glasses off slowly, holding them out to you with two fingers.

You snatched them back before he could say something like ‘Here you go, Grandma’.

And he must’ve known better too, because this time? He didn’t.

Instead, he just looked up at you with something softer behind those bright, stupidly clear eyes.

“You look tired,” he said, uncharacteristically quiet.

You blinked. That caught you off guard.

“Well,” you replied, swallowing around your throat. “I’ve been managing additional responsibilities while my boss has been out attending external engagements.”

He tilted his head, studying you for a second longer than comfortable.

You fumbled with the glasses in your hand.

“Call Kyoto,” you muttered, turning away before he could read too much on your face. “They’re waiting.”

As you reached for the door, his voice trailed after you, lighter again.

“Oh, and I did eat the sour candy, by the way. No regrets.”

You froze. Slowly turned your head.

“You are… you’re…”

Crazy,

lazy,

weird,

Annoying,

Abnormal,

Jerk,

Insane  and the list goes on.

You wish you could day something like that. But couldn’t find any appropriate word. So without making a fool of yourself any further you groaned internally and walked away.

“Never mind, Ill be on my desk call me if you need anything”

He smirked, like the arrogant bastard he is and watched you stomp away like a child. That stroked his ego, just a little.

Because he likes getting under your skin. Likes watching how it affects you.
You never show it on your face, of course. You’re too composed for that.
But your body language? That gives you away.

Like the way you shift your weight onto one leg and nervously tap the other so subtle, you probably don’t even realize you’re doing it.

And the way you walked out of his office, hips swaying like waves, completely unaware of how obvious you are when you’re annoyed.

Chapter Text

“Okay so everything set?”

“Yes Sir, Uh I have everything in the bag, the contract was sent through fax and email this morning and I have a copy with me just incase they want to sign right away”

“Good job” Gojo takes a peek at you through his sunglasses. The blue of his eyes glinting in the sun. He smiles a little to your surprise. After he gave you an earful about how shouldn’t have helped the interns for their project.

They were given this task for a reason and you helped them with the most important part of it i.e, communication with the higher ups.

He was not angry at you, not at all. He just gave a you a look of disappointment and a good scolding how you should have just given them information instead of doing it yourself which was honestly, fair enough. It was their task not yours and so you apologized to your boss and of course Gojo being Gojo flicked your forehead without any hesitation and said something along these lines “don’t be a smarty pants next time, you only do work that I give you blah blah blah…..” you were too busy rubbing the spot he flicked which hurt like hell and completely ignoring every single word that came out his mouth after a certain point.

“Are you gonna go sit or what?”

You were so zoned out that you didn’t even notice Ichiji was already here with the car and Gojo was holding the door open for you.

That’s the first nice thing he’s done today. Should I be worried?

You quickly shake off the thought, mumble a quiet thank you, and shuffle past Gojo as he holds the door open. He shuts it behind you, then rounds the car and slips into the seat beside you.

"Ijichi, before we get to the restaurant, can you stop by a flower shop nearby?"

Gojo’s voice is casual, almost too sweet.

"Someone forgot to pick some up for the very important client we’re meeting today. So now, I have to handle it myself."

He doesn't even bother to look at you directly just smiles in your direction, all teeth and mock politeness. It’s the kind of smile that makes your skin crawl a little.

You sink lower in your seat, pretending to be deeply interested in whatever's passing by outside the window. You were in a rush this morning as you slept through your alarm, you barely slept last night as the thought of meeting these clients kept you awake. You wanted to sleep. You tried your best but your brain kept on replaying every possibility tomorrow might bring keeping you awake till 2am.

The car comes to a halt. Gojo steps out almost immediately, slipping his phone into his pocket as he turns to look at you flashing the sweetest smile imaginable, the kind that screamed I will absolutely murder you .

" You gonna help me pick something out, or are you planning to sit there like you’re the boss and I’m the assistant?"

Uh oh

"No, no, it’s not like that! I was just..."
You quickly scramble out of the car, hurrying toward him.

"I was just putting the bag away, that’s all."

You nervously rub your palm against your skirt, smoothing out invisible wrinkles as if that might also smooth out the tension in the air.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." He rolled his eyes and walked inside without so much as a second glance.

Behind him, you scowled and followed, mentally smacking the back of his head with all the force your dignity could muster.

“Hello! Welcome in”

He was instantly greeted by the lady behind the counter who had some flowers in her graying hair. Pretty.

“Are you guys looking for anything specific? Is there anything that I can assist you with?” She smiles warmly at both of you.

“Well, actually, yeah. Do you have something…” Gojo rubbed his chin, pouting his lips slightly. “Something nice?” He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

You scoffed quietly behind him, vaguely enough not to draw immediate attention. But Gojo instantly shot you a sharp look, and you quickly looked away.

Oops. Definitely didn’t mean to do that.

“Yeah, I do have something pretty,” she chuckled, “if you want to follow me this way.”

She turned around and led you toward the back of the store. You two followed close behind.

Flowers were everywhere — some hanging from the ceiling, others in pots lined up neatly. The whole place felt alive. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting warm rays that made everything seem a little more magical.

The lady glanced at Gojo with a warm smile as she handed him a bouquet.

“These are lovely—are they for your girlfriend? So thoughtful. If you ask me I think they go well with her appearan-“

”Uh, actually, no.” Gojo’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flickering toward you standing just a few feet away “Uh These are for a client we’re meeting today.”

Her cheeks tinted pink, a bit embarrassed. “Oh! I—I just assumed since- oh my bad .” She laughed nervously, waving a hand. “Sorry about that.”

“No worries,” Gojo said, his usual confident grin softening. “But if you have something simpler, something elegant but not too flashy, that’d be perfect for the client.”

She nodded quickly and disappeared for a moment, returning with a smaller, delicate arrangement simple wildflowers tied with a soft ribbon. “How about this? Simple, pretty, professional.”

Gojo smiled, accepting the bouquet.

“Perfect. Thank you.”

You caught the exchange and raised your eyebrows watching Gojo’s rare flustered moment with mild amusement.

Wondering what might’ve triggered his sudden reaction.

He is so weird

He paid for the flowers and with a quick thank you, you two made your way back to the car.

"Why didn’t you pick the other flowers?"

You asked quietly, eyeing the modest bundle of wildflowers in his hand. They were simple, pretty, but nothing like the vibrant bouquet he’d nearly walked out with.

For some reason, your boss’s face turned red. Actually red. And he stammered, which was… new.

"Uh—they were too flashy. I mean, I’m not proposing to them or anything, just greeting them, so..." He cleared his throat, avoiding your eyes. "This is good."

You, being you, completely ignored his weird behavior—too focused on the flowers to notice the rare crack in his confidence. The hint went sailing right over your head.

“Yeah I guess. They are more practical” you nodded and shrugged your shoulders then proceed to look out if the window

Gojo stared at you for a second, lips pressed together like he was holding something back. Then he sighed through his nose shaking his head with a faint helpless, smile. Then, He pulled his phone to look more busy.

The restaurant was upscale, quiet, and suffocatingly formal. You sat next to

Gojo Satoru at round corner table, which was more of a booth, a big fancy red couch, for six linen napkins, white plates, water poured in a wine glass that you weren’t sure was meant for still or sparkling. Probably melted diamonds, knowing this place.

He was already halfway through his lemonade. Sunglasses still on. Elbows on the table like a delinquent. You sat as straight as a ruler, hands in your lap, too nervous to even reach for your menu.

The server approached with a little too much enthusiasm. “ Are you guys ready to order? Will anyone else be joining you two.., or is this a date thing?”

Your soul visibly left your body.

Gojo didn’t even blink. “God, no. She works for me.”

You flinched at that. Not the words but how fast he said them.

The server backpedaled. “Oh! Sorry, I just oh uh. Right. A business lunch. Of course. My bad!”

“We booked the whole table,” Gojo said, gesturing vaguely. “Meeting. Not romance.”

You gave the most professional, painfully neutral smile you could manage.

The server scurried off.

Silence followed.

Not the kind of silence where people are relaxed, enjoying each other's company.

No.

This was the deadly kind.

You stared down at your glass, wondering if it was possible to die from secondhand awkwardness. Gojo stretched his arms behind his head and sighed so dramatically it could’ve won an Oscar.

“So…” he said, out of nowhere. “Do you eat pineapple on pizza?”

You blinked.

“I- what?”

“Pineapple. On pizza,” he repeated, like this was a completely normal way to begin a work lunch. “Are you pro or anti-fruit-abomination?”

You blinked again, hands still folded in your lap. “I don’t... really have a strong opinion.”

“You’re dodging the question.”

“I don’t eat pizza much.”

“You’re dodging life .”

You stared at him, stiff as ever. He leaned back with a sigh.

“You are so tense. Like, terrifyingly tense. I feel like if I say the wrong thing, you’ll pepper spray me under the table.”

“I don’t carry pepper spray.”

“Exactly what someone who does would say.”

You didn’t reply. Just stared past him, pretending to examine the wine rack like it held the answers to life.

Your chest felt tight.

Was this a test?

Was he making fun of you?

Would laughing be unprofessional?

Was not laughing cold?

If you messed this up, would he fire you?

Would he joke about it first?

You were so deep in your spiraling thoughts that you didn’t even notice the guests arriving.

Four of them, all older, all dressed like they owned small European countries.

Except for one who was not old. The gorgeous woman who looked like she just descended from heaven.

You rose immediately, offering a polite nod. One by one, they shook hands with Gojo. When it was the woman’s turn, her hand lingered just a moment longer than necessary, her fingers curling lightly around his. A slow, shy smile bloomed on her lips as she looked up at him from under her lashes.

Gojo blinked at her caught off guard for a fraction of a second before a slow, sly smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Well, hello to you too,” he drawled, amusement dripping from his voice.

You rolled your eyes and sat back down.

She giggled and sat right in front of him. Crossing her legs and leaning over the table. Batting her lashes at him totally ignoring you.

“Oh, I totally forgot about this,” Gojo said, reaching behind him to pull out a modest bouquet wrapped in soft paper. He set it gently on the table in front of them.

“This is for you, Mr. Akito. Thank you for meeting us on such short notice.”
He flashed his most charming smile the one that made most people forget whatever they were mad about five seconds earlier.

“Oh, you didn’t have to, Satoru. But thank you. They’re beautiful,” Mr. Akito replied warmly, his eyes crinkling with genuine kindness. He glanced between the two of you as he accepted the bouquet.

You returned his smile politely.

Then, unexpectedly, Akito handed the bouquet to the woman beside him, his assistant, apparently. She giggled as she accepted it, lifting the flowers to her face for a deep, dramatic sniff.

“They’re very beautiful,” she said, looking directly at Gojo through her lashes. “Thank you, Mr. Gojo.”

Gojo gave her one his signature smirks

“Anytime”

The meeting began.

And it was so boring.

Not bad. Not intense.

Just… soul-crushingly slow. One man talked about tax changes for ten straight minutes.

Another launched into a story about a property deal from 2004. The other assistant kept on giggling over anything Gojo said, tucking her hair behind her ears from time to time.

You nodded, took notes, offered polite smiles, and slowly, slowly……zoned out.

Your eyes went glassy.You stared into the distance like a haunted Victorian child. You didn’t even realize it until someone chuckled.

“Ah, are we that boring?”one of the older men said your name gently

“Oh sorry what was that” you blinked rapidly

“You want to share your thoughts of the world you were just in?” Curious eyes of Mr. Akito finding yours

Gojo didn’t miss a beat.

“She does that sometimes. Thinking. It's rare, but beautiful.”

The table erupted in soft, amused laughter.

Your ears burned.

You looked down and adjusted your glasses unnecessarily.

But for some reason, the corner of your mouth twitched.

Gojo caught it instantly. His gaze snapped to you with the sharpness of a predator spotting movement.

“I saw it. That was a smile,” he whispered, tilting his head just slightly. “You’re not made of marble.”

“I was adjusting my lip,” you muttered flatly.

“Oh yeah? Were you now?”
He leaned in just a little closer, the corner of his mouth tugging upward.

“Mhm.”

“Sure thing, Ice Queen,” he said, nodding lazily like he didn’t believe a word of it, still watching you out of the corner of his eye.

“It was… it was kinda silly, yeah. That’s all,” you admitted quietly.

Your eyes stayed glued to the table. He was sitting so close that even the smallest shift could have your shoulders or worse, your legs brushing his.

Gojo let out a soft chuckle. “Well, if you’re talking about you zoning out during a very important meeting, then yeah. That was silly.”
He paused, then added with a teasing tilt of his head, “Unless you were calling your boss silly?”

“No! no! I didn’t mean it like that-”
You panicked, whipping your head to the side to look at him properly, only to realize just how close he was. Inches away. Your head nearly bumping his shoulder.

And he was looking right at you.

No sunglasses. Just those ridiculous, clear ocean-blue eyes and that small, amused smirk playing on his lips.

Your breath caught.

He didn’t move away.

Instead, he slowly draped his arm across the back of the couch behind you, fingers brushing the cushion. Then he shifted, just slightly, and now your legs were touching.

You swallowed hard. You were hyperaware of everything: the heat of his thigh against yours, the way he was still looking at you, the faintest crinkle at the corner of his eyes.

“You were saying?” he murmured, voice lower now. Almost lazy. Almost dangerous.

You froze. Brain completely empty.

No snap out of it. He is clearly playing with me right now.

You mentally slapped yourself. Clearing your throat and shifting back so you’re not casually making any physical contact with your boss.

“I was just saying.. that I didn’t mean to call you silly in that way. Its the.. uh it was just the situation and your answer thats it. Sorry”

You looked back at the table as the others around were engaged in some conversation about stocks.

Gojo inhaled sharply through his nose, exasperated.
“Stop apologizing for everything, for god’s sake,” he muttered, shaking his head. “It’s fine-I was just kidding.”

You turned to look at him, expecting the usual teasing grin or cocky smirk.

But instead... he was smiling.
A real one.
Sincere, soft—so genuine it completely caught you off guard.

It was the first time you’d seen that expression on him. At least since you started working together.

He was always so unpredictable.
Hot and cold.
Like a human rollercoaster.
One moment he was scolding you, the next he was cracking jokes and telling you to relax.
You never quite knew which version of him you were going to get.

“Oh. Right. Okay,” you nodded slowly, still blinking at his face like it was in a language you couldn’t read. “My bad, I am Sorry…oops!”
Your hand flew up to your mouth in horror.

Too late.

Gojo burst out laughing, throwing his head back with the kind of joy that was completely unfiltered.
Like you’d just said the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

“You’re so silly,” he chuckled, shaking his head with amused disbelief.
Then, without thinking, he gently poked your forehead with his finger.

The gesture was so casual.

So light.

So him .
But your heart?

Skipped.

Hard.

No.
Absolutely not.
Nope. Not happening.
You clenched your hands in your lap, internally smacking yourself across the face.

Gojo leaned back on the couch with a smug expression on his face, knowing he definitely caused an internal crisis in his assistant’s brain.

You looked straight ahead, face on fire, pretending this never happened.

After a few more rounds of polite conversation and a freshly signed contract, someone finally suggested getting lunch.

Lunch.

Sure. At 3 p.m.

You'd been there since noon, stomach practically eating itself. You hadn’t touched a single drink, and neither had Gojo unless you counted the four glasses of lemonade he kept ordering like they were keeping him alive.

He didn’t complain once.
Didn’t rush anyone.
Didn’t pull his usual power move of ordering food before the clients even showed up.

Weird.
Suspiciously weird.

But honestly? You weren’t about to question it. If Gojo wanted to play the role of well-mannered CEO today, that was his business. You just wanted something edible before you passed out in your chair.

Hey, you think we should get pizza with pineapples?” Gojo smirked at you

“Um… sure, I guess?” you shrugged, trying to play it cool.

“Okay, great. Want anything else on the side? For the lady,Perhaps a salad ?”

That damn smirk

“Perhaps not,” you said, deadpan. “I’ll have the pasta with extra cheese, garlic bread oh, and that lemonade you kept ordering earlier.”

You rattled it off in one breath.

White Chicks. Classic.

Then it hit you.
Oh God.
That was your boss.
Your boss .

But also who cares? You were starving and dangerously close to slipping into hangry mode.

Gojo’s eyes shut as he laughed, head dipping low as his shoulders bounced silently. He exhaled through a grin and looked up at you.

“You’re a comedian now, huh?” he said, voice warm with disbelief. “Out of all people, you would get the reference. Wow, good job Ice queen”

Then, without warning, he reached over and ruffled your hair.

Like a dog.

What. The actual. Hell.

You blinked.

He crossed a line.

Your hair was off-limits.

“Hey, don’t do that!” you scowled, swatting his hand away but before your arm could retreat, he caught your wrist in his grip. Not hard. Just enough.

The motion pulled you slightly forward.

“Relax, Four Eyes,” he said, voice low. “Take a joke, will ya?”

His eyes sparkled as he whispered it, like he knew exactly how close he was like he liked that you froze.

Then, just as quickly, he let go. Turned right back to the menu like nothing had happened.

He glanced at the server. “We’ll have two orders of that pasta she just said. Extra cheese, garlic bread with the pizza. And lemonade. Make it four.”

You stared at him, still stunned.
He was ordering what you were having.

But wait. Did your ears deceive you?

Did he just say four?

Four lemonades?

This man is insane.

You glanced back at the table. Thankfully, everyone seemed busy in their own conversation.
Thank God.

Because you didn’t know what was worse Gojo pulling you close like that , or the idea of these very important, very powerful people watching the whole thing unfold like a live rom-com disaster.

You tried to focus. Really, you did.

But all you could think about was what just happened. The way he looked at you. The way he touched your wrist. The way he said “Four Eyes.”
He was messing with you, right?

He had to be.

Right?

Your thoughts were promptly shattered by someone calling your name.

Of course.
Her.

The angel among the boardroom crypt keepers.

The one woman who looked like she belonged on a red carpet, not at a merger meeting. Gorgeous. Glowing. And seated perfectly across from Gojo. Naturally.

“So,” she said sweetly, twirling her wine glass, “how long have you been working for Mr. Gojo?”

You straightened a bit. “Uh, almost a year now.”

“Oh, really?” she smiled, voice lilting. “Doesn’t seem like it. You look like you just started. Why so uptight?”

Another dainty sip of wine. “Is he pressuring you with too much work?”

You forced a polite laugh, shaking your head. “Oh no, nothing like that. I just… I like to keep to myself, that’s all.”

Lie.

A big, beautiful lie.

What you wanted to say was:
He’s a manchild. A smug idiot who dumps his workload on my head and then acts like I ruined everything when he forgets his own deadlines. He thinks he’s hilarious. He’s not. He makes fun of me all the time if not that he is screaming at me like a child and then acts like nothing ever happened. he likes to pretend like it’s all normal. It’s not.

But you couldn’t say that.

You liked your job.
Okay, maybe not the job , but you liked the money .
And you liked paying rent.

So instead, you smiled. Pleasant. Plastic.

She laughed lightly, and then Gojo because of course he had to chime in leaned forward on the table with that lazy, smug grin.

“You see?” he said. “I am a good boss. I’m quite considerate, actually.”

Great.

Now he was flirting.

“You’re so kind, Mr. Gojo,” she said, smiling shyly at him.

You scoffed. Mentally.

Outwardly, you just sipped your water with Olympic-level restraint.

“Thanks,” Gojo said smoothly. “I try. I’m a humble man, after all.”

Humble.

Right.

This coming from the guy who handed you his black card like it was a napkin and told you to fetch his overpriced,syrup-loaded coffee every morning.

She giggled, and the two of them launched into the most brain-numbing exchange of shallow compliments and mutual self-obsession imaginable.

“You use hair serum? Your hair looks so soft.”

“I love your necklace.”

“No way! I listen to that artist too!”

“That’s my favorite!”

“Oh my god, we have so much in common already!”

You wanted to peel your own skin off.

It was exhausting.

Her fake high-pitched laugh.
His actually high-pitched laugh.
The endless stream of ridiculous, ego-stroking jokes.

You were three seconds away from throwing yourself under the bus when, finally— finally —the food arrived.

Thank. God.

No one said much once the plates hit the table, and for the first time in hours, you got to just… eat. In peace.

You devoured your meal like it was your last.

Starved didn’t even begin to cover it.

Meanwhile, Gojo?

He cleaned his plate. Then another. And another. Two extra servings of the same dish. Just casually inhaled all of it like it was nothing.

You stared at him in quiet horror.

How is this man not a blubber plump yet?
Seriously.
Where did it all go ?
Maybe he is a blubber plump and hiding it under his baggy clothing?

He is god’s favorite after all.

He caught your look and grinned mid-chew.

You quickly looked away, pretending to be deeply fascinated by your napkin.

You were not going to feed his ego.
He did that just fine on his own.

Everyone stood out front, exchanging goodbyes while shiny, black-tinted cars waited patiently at the curb like obedient chauffeurs in a movie.

Mr. Akito shook Gojo’s hand with both warmth and satisfaction.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Satoru. Well done with the deal arrangements.”

“My pleasure, Mr. Akito,” Gojo smiled, all charm and confidence. “Thanks for coming out and signing the contract.”

“Oh, of course! Everything was very

precise, and the numbers were executed perfectly. How could I say no?”

He laughed, clapping Gojo on the back like they were old friends.

Then his gaze shifted toward you.

You straightened slightly, your smile firm and polite. You’d poured your blood, sweat, and soul into this project run every number, prepped every file, caught every error before it ever made it to Gojo’s desk.

But sure. Let him get the back pats.

“It was lovely meeting you,” Mr. Akito said, offering his hand.

You took it, surprised by the warmth of his expression.

“Nice meeting you too, sir.”

He gave you a respectful nod, then turned toward his car.

And of course,of course , Miss Angel had to have her final moment.

She leaned in just a touch too close to Gojo, her hand lingering on his arm like she was testing the texture of his suit.
Her eyes said one thing; her mouth said another.

“You have Mr. Akito’s office number, right?” she said, all sweet professionalism. “Feel free to call if you need anything.”

Translation: I’m the one who answers that phone. Call me so we can flirt, or maybe do something else.Preferably something else.

You didn’t roll your eyes, but you wanted to.

Badly.

She finally slipped away, heels clicking confidently as she stepped into the waiting car.

You exhaled once the doors shut behind her. Gojo shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing over at you with a lazy smile. “Jealous?”

You didn’t even look at him. “Of what? You get all the credit. Yes. Her? No.”

He barked a laugh. “Ouch.”

“Just calling it how I see it.”

You walked past him toward the car without a word.

He followed. Still grinning.

As soon as you slid into the car, you let your eyes fall shut, head tilting back against the seat with a quiet sigh. The leather was cool. The air even cooler.
The weather had been shifting lately colder by the day but you didn’t mind. You liked the cold. It gave you an excuse to slow down, to breathe.

“We’ll drop you off at your place, yeah?”
Gojo’s voice broke the silence quiet, almost unreadable.

You cracked one eye open to look at him.

“Uh, sure, but you don’t have to. You can just drop me at the office, I’ll take the train-”

“Nonsense.”

He cut you off smoothly, arms crossing as he leaned back.

“I’m not letting my assistant take the train at this hour. Not after she singlehandedly closed a very important deal today.”

There was a small smile tugging at his lipsgenuine, not smug.

And for a moment… it felt nice.

You exhaled slowly, not realizing you’d been holding your breath. A quiet shake of your head, the ghost of a smile tugging at your mouth.

“Good job.”
He said your name gently. So gently, it almost made your chest tighten.

“I’m proud of you.”

Your heart stuttered, just once but enough to register.

Still, you held it together. No way were you going to feel feelings . Not for him . God forbid.

“Thank you, Mr. Gojo,” you said, warmth flickering in your voice. You turned to him with a soft smile and for a split second, your eyes met.

And held.

Then, just like that, his smile disappeared. He blinked, clearing his throat.

“Oh, by the way,” you mumbled, suddenly remembering, “I live by the bridge. Off 9th.”

You gave the exact address quickly without realizing how flustered he was by the lingering gaze of your eyes.

He blinked again, then snorted a quiet laugh to himself.

“Of course you do.”

Then he looked ahead, meeting Ijichi’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Note her address. We’re dropping her off first.”

“Yes, sir.”

The car began to move, slipping into the stream of headlights and late-night traffic. You leaned your forehead against the cool window glass, watching the city blur past in streaks of light.

You didn’t notice Gojo stealing glances at you from the corner of his eye.

And he didn’t notice that he’d been doing it more and more lately.

Eventually, he leaned his head against his own window too silent.

Thoughtful.

Both of you lost in different worlds.
Worlds that shouldn’t intersect, but somehow… did.

One of you couldn’t stop thinking about the other. And the other refused to let themselves start.

When the car finally pulled to a stop, you stirred. Sleepy, hair a little messy, glasses tucked away. You stepped out into the crisp night, turning to face him.

“Goodnight, Mr. Gojo.”

Your voice was soft. Honest. Tired eyes meeting his.

He looked at you, just a beat too long.
Like he wasn’t quite ready for you to leave.

“Goodnight… Four Eyes.”

His voice was quiet. No smirk this time. Just something else. Something almost tender.

Then the door closed, and the car pulled away.

Leaving both of you behind your own windows.

Chapter Text

Did you bring me s’mores… and hot chocolate? With marshmallows?”

You stared at your boss, arms crossed as he casually perched himself in front of your desk like he owned the place which, unfortunately, he technically did.

“Mhm.”

Gojo nodded, suspiciously proud of himself.

You squinted. “Are you trying to bribe me with s’mores and hot chocolate?”

He blinked at you, poker-faced. “Uhh… no?”

You arched a brow. “You  do remember the one thing on earth that I’m actually allergic to is gelatin, right?”
You gestured to the drawer behind you. “Hence the gelatin-free sour candy you keep stealing from my desk?”

Gojo tilted his head, unbothered. “I totally knew that. I just… didn’t realize marshmallows had gelatin in them.”

You stared at him in complete silence. Lips pressed tight. The smile on your face? Cold. Deadly.

“This is progress, Four Eyes,” he said, reclining further in the chair in front your desk like it was his. “I’m starting to see the correlation between you and this.”

You inhaled sharply through your nose, reached out, and slowly pushed the box of s’mores and fancy hot chocolate back across the desk with both hands.

“Mr. Gojo,” you said carefully, “I need you-”

“Yeah, I need you too, Four Eyes.”

He leaned forward, eyes locking on yours with faux sincerity. “That’s why I’m trying to-”

“- I need you to leave. ”

Your voice cut clean through his nonsense, flat and final. “Now.”

He blinked.

Silence.

Then slowly, he gathered his peace offering,one hand on the cup, the other on the box, like a child who’d just been scolded for drawing on the walls.

He stood halfway, sighed dramatically, and turned to look at you again.

You didn’t say a word. You just  watched .

“Pretty please?”

His voice dropped an octave, lips curled in an exaggerated pout, eyes big and puppy-like. White hair messy in all directions, like some windswept angel.

Anyone else in your position would’ve folded on the spot.
But you just blinked at him.

Because behind all those god-tier genetics was a man-child with a black card and no sense of boundaries.

“What a waste of good bone structure,” you muttered under your breath.

He was still standing there. You pointed to the opposite direction.
“Your office is that way.”

Gojo looked over his shoulder. “Right.”

And with a dramatic sigh, he finally walked off in the right direction, items in hand.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you released the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

He wanted you to do a presentation.
A presentation that,  mind you , you had  absolutely no idea what it was even about.  And let’s be clear this wasn’t some assistant-level update or scheduling slide deck. 

No. 

This was a  CEO-level  project. 

His  responsibility. 

Not yours.

Apparently, Gojo had decided that now was the right time to put a  communication team  on the floor directly across from your desk. The area that’s been completely empty since you started working here.

And now? He thinks it’s time to "bring in some extra help."

Right.  Help.

Part of you suspects it has less to do with workflow and more to do with the fact that Yuji and the two other interns he unironically calls  “his students”  are being shuffled up here too. 

Which… tracks.

If the man could move the entire HR department for his favorite intern’s lunch schedule, you wouldn’t be surprised

But whatever.
You’re just an assistant. An assistant whose  boss keeps trying to make her do his job.

Not today.
You were not falling for it.

You were already swamped still drowning in the shipment backlog the  former  director requested a full audit on. You were  assigned  that task. Officially.

And under that assignment email, clear as day, in  bold  font, it even read:

“Do not allow Satoru Gojo to interfere or reassign you.”

You told him about that line, once.
You swear you saw him physically shiver.

Weird.

He didn’t deny it either. Just mumbled something about the former director being “nosey old man”. So no. You were not touching that presentation. Not out of pity, not out of guilt, not even if he brought you a dozen gelatin-free candies and a handwritten apology card. Let him figure it out.
You had real work to do.

For the rest of the day, your boss didn’t bother you with any of his usual nonsense. No dramatic sighs. No ridiculous errands. Nothing.

Then he strolled out of his office, laughing obnoxiously into his phone, twirling something between his fingers,
A car key. Shaped like a car. Of course.

It took a second, but like a flickering lightbulb going off in your head, you recognized it. A Porsche key. One of  his convertibles. The very same ones he wouldn’t shut up about the other day,right after you’d casually mentioned wanting to own a convertible someday. An Audi, specifically.

He laughed in your face.  Actually  laughed. Called you a loser. Then proceeded to rattle off his collection like a damn car commercial. And yes, one of them had been a Porsche.

Now, he barely glanced in your direction. Just gave you a nod and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder toward his office.

“I’ll be back soon,” he muttered, already stepping into the elevator like he hadn’t just spent years of your life you’ll never get back annoying you.

You finally glanced at the time and decided it was a good moment for a lunch break. With a sigh, you took off your glasses, rubbed your sore eyes, and stretched your arms high above your head. Then, instinctively, you pulled your sleeves down and tugged your glasses back on. Before leaving, you made sure to turn off your monitors. There were too many new faces on the floor lately, and you weren’t about to risk someone poking around your files especially not her. Reina. The textbook high school mean girl reincarnated as a corporate menace. She sat just across the hall from your desk, and her presence was a daily test of your patience.

In the lunchroom, things started out good. You had your phone in one hand, a steaming bowl of Korean noodles in front of you Gojo’s craving today had made the chef switch up the entire menu. Life was decent. The pay was solid, the food was better than most places, and the job? Let’s just say survivable. Your boss was... debatable, but you made it work.

You were mid-slurp, enjoying a particularly chewy bite, when that high-pitched, familiar screech of a laugh cut through the room like nails on a chalkboard.

Great.

She brought backup.

You didn’t even need to look up to know Reina had entered, flanked by her little crew from HR. You’d spoken to them a few times—enough to know it was never pleasant. They rolled their eyes at everything you said, dismissed your presence during meetings, and couldn’t be bothered to hide their disdain. Honestly, you couldn’t care less. Their jealousy was painfully obvious. You’d earned your position. They hadn’t.

“She even eats like a man,look at all that food on her plate,” one giggled.

“She’s definitely built like one under all those clothes, too,” came another voice, followed by a chorus of laughter.

“Her clothes look like they belong to some old lady who lives alone with ten cats,” someone snorted.

You did live alone with a cat, sure but what was wrong with these women? Were they twelve?

You kept your face neutral. You weren’t about to give them the satisfaction. You weren’t the type to waste your breath on brain-rotting conversations. Let the dogs bark. You’d walk.

So you ate quickly, cleaned up, and made your way past their table to throw your stuff away.

But they weren’t even pretending to whisper anymore.

“Maybe she’s sleeping with the boss.”

“No, pfft..have you seen her face? Mr. Gojo has standards. That thing doesn’t even come close.”

That last part made someone nearby choke on their drink. A ripple of muffled laughter spread across the room.

You froze for half a second. Your hand still clutched the empty food tray. For a moment, you wanted to turn around. Say something. Anything.

But no. It wasn’t worth it.

You had real work to do. You didn’t want drama. You certainly didn’t want to play in the same muddy sandbox with people who thrived off humiliating others.

But it hurt. Of course it did.

You didn’t let it show, but their words cut deeper than you'd admit. Anything about your appearance always made you self-conscious, like anyone else. Still, you held your head high and walked out of the lunchroom, leaving their words behind.

You weren’t going to give people who didn’t know you the satisfaction of watching you break.

All files were set, emails reviewed and replied to.

 You should’ve gone home.
Really.
But for some reason, you couldn’t move.

Lately, it had been harder mentally. You were exhausted. The whispers, the stares, the cruel little comments… they weighed on you more than you'd like to admit. It was already 8 PM. You should be at home, full from dinner, curled up on your couch with some dumb reality show playing and your cat nestled by your side.

But instead, you sat at your desk, the office dark except for your lamp and the glow of your monitor. The silence was thick. Your thoughts even thicker. They clawed at you.

Should you talk to Mr. Gojo about it?

No. He’d probably laugh, tell you to grow up, dismiss it as teenage drama. Or worse what if he agreed with them? What if he looked at you and thought, maybe they’re right?

You couldn’t bear that.

Just the thought of what your Greek god of a boss might think about your appearance made your stomach turn. You’d probably quit on the spot, crawl into a hole, and never show your face again.

You tossed your head back with a sigh, stretching your neck and closing your eyes desperate to think about anything else. But even behind shut lids, your eyes stung. Tears threatened. You squeezed harder, willing them away.

Why was it happening again?

High school had been a battlefield. You’d been targeted then, too picked apart for the way you looked, the way you dressed, the way you simply existed. College had been better. You’d found your people. Or so you thought. That illusion eventually shattered too.

Your breath hitched, hot tears spilling before you could stop them. A soft, humiliating sob slipped past your lips at the thought of someone, someone who made it all hurt even more. You tried not to think about it, without making it worse than it already was. 

You pressed your palms over your face, wiping the tears away, and slowly opened your eyes.

Only to scream.

Your body jolted so violently you fell right out of your chair, knocking your little desk plant onto the floor.

“MR. GOJO, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?! ” you yelled, clutching your chest as you sat on the floor, wide-eyed.

He laughed, stepping out from behind your desk and offering a hand.

“What’s wrong with me? What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you sitting here in the dark like some horror movie extra?”

You quickly wiped your nose with the back of your hand and pushed yourself up, ignoring his help.

“I was, I just... finishing up some work. That’s all. And sorry for the language.”

His gaze locked onto your face. The laughter was gone now, replaced with quiet focus. His eyes flickered between yours, sharp but soft.

“Its all good but this late? I don’t let anyone stay past eight unless I’m still around, especially you,” he said, pointing at you.

“I had stuff to finish,” you mumbled, eyes darting anywhere but at him.

“Liar. I checked. You had nothing left.”

“I did, I swear-”

“Then why were you crying?”

You froze. Shame washed over you like a cold wave. Head low, you avoided his gaze.

“I wasn’t. I just... something got in my eyes. I’m just sleepy.”

You turned away, trying to gather your things quickly, desperate to escape before he could say anything else.

“Why are you here so late anyway?” you asked, voice small. “I didn’t even hear you come in.”

“I forgot my house keys,” he replied, raking a hand through his hair. “Wait for me.”

Even in the dark, his eyes had the audacity to glow like they were dipped in moonlight and personally blessed by a team of angels. Of course they did. Because of course Gojo Satoru couldn’t just have regular human eyes like the rest of us. 

He jogged toward his office. The fingerprint scanner lit up, the doors unlocking as he disappeared inside.

You silently cursed yourself while shoving your belongings into your bag and tossing your coat over your shoulders.

Crying at work? Seriously? Thank God you came up with an excuse. Hopefully, he bought it.

Moments later, he returned and motioned toward the elevator. You followed him in silence. The ride down was awkward—not painfully so, just... quiet. He twirled his keys around his finger. You stared at your shoes.

You both stepped outside. He held the door open for you and you murmured a quick “thanks.”

The cold air smacked your face, biting your cheeks red and the strands of your hair whipping in the other direction. You began walking the opposite direction.

"Goodnight, Mr.Gojo"

“Where are you going?” he called out behind you.

You turned around. “Uhh... home?”

“No shit, you idiot,” he said, furrowing his brows. “But why are you walking that way?”

“That’s where I catch the train.”

He blinked.

Then rolled his eyes.

“Let’s go. I’ll drop you home, Four Eyes.”

He started walking toward you, smirking. The wind caught his hair just right. His cheeks were pink from the cold, matching yours. He stopped in front of you with glossy blue eyes, took your bag from your hands without asking, and flicked your forehead. You stared up at him, a little stunned, lips parted. Not a single reaction from the flick on your face. Not even an ouch. Your eyes just flickered over his face. His lips curled into a smirk, eyes glinting with something that you couldn't tell. 

Seriously, if those things sparkled any harder, you’d need sunglasses just to survive eye contact.,

He started walking again and turned back once. “You coming? Or do I have to carry you too?”

“N-No! I’m coming—I just—” you scrambled for words. “I was checking if the door was locked. Yeah, that.”

He chuckled. “You’re my assistant, not security, but sure—whatever helps you sleep at night.”

He was still smirking when you walked up beside him.

Of course it was a convertible. Covered now, at least—it was freezing. Any other day you might have been excited to ride in it. Not tonight. Not after crying in the dark like some office ghost.

He opened the door for you, then got in with a groan. The engine purred to life.

“Nice car,” you muttered.

“Thanks,” he replied smugly. “Picked it myself. Custom-made, too.”

You snorted under your breath. “Of course it was.”

“I heard that,” he grinned.

“What was that, Mr. Gojo?” you said with faux innocence.

He just smiled, letting it go. The music played softly. The ride was peaceful, in its own strange way.

Once again, you two collided in a space neither of you planned.

You didn’t think too much of it.

But Gojo?

He couldn’t stop.

He shouldn’t be thinking about you. But he was.
And the fact that you didn’t seem to care?

That bothered him more than anything else.

Chapter Text

“Mr. Gojo, I think we should get going.”

“Shut up. Let me focus.”

You blinked slowly, biting down the groan that was begging to claw its way out of your throat. Instead, you smiled—teeth gritted, patience dangling by a thread. This man was really pushing it today.
He had been glued to his PlayStation for three hours. And for the past forty-five minutes, you’d been politely (then not-so-politely) reminding him that he had a meeting. With a client. At a café. Which, by the way, started twenty minutes ago.

“Aghhh, NO!” he yelled suddenly, flinging his controller onto the table. He gripped his hair in both hands, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back in agony. “I lost again!”

You sighed, shaking your head but before you could speak, his head snapped in your direction.
“You,” he pointed dramatically, eyes narrowing,
“you’re the reason I lost, Four Eyes.”

You scrunched your face. “Me? I wasn’t even playing. How is that my fault?” Your voice was too squeaky for your liking.

“Exactly! You’ve been hovering and criticizing and nagging me to go to some stupid meeting.” He crossed his arms and pouted like a six-year-old denied a toy.
You blinked, stunned. “Well, I’m so sorry… for doing my job? And honestly, you should do it too” you whispered the last part

He huffed. “Oh, shut it. If you hadn’t interrupted earlier, I would’ve won that round.” Then, with an annoyingly smug look, he added, “Actually, I think it’s your aura.”

You stared. “My… aura?”

He finally stood up from his chair,thank god, and stretched his arms over his head with a loud groan that sounded far too suggestive for the moment. You physically cringed.

“Mr. Gojo, what are you even-” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Let’s just go. The client’s already been waiting.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, Miss Goody Two-Shoes,” he muttered in the most grating tone possible, tugging on his expensive wool coat like he was walking a runway.

You scoffed quietly behind him as he straightened the collar, then again when he adjusted the sleeves for no reason other than drama. Under your breath, you muttered, “My aura, as if. Just say you don’t know how to play, loser.”

Unfortunately for you, your boss had sharp ears. They practically twitched at the sound of your voice.
He stopped mid-step and turned his head sharply toward you. “Did you say something?”

You blinked, putting on your most innocent expression. “No, I didn’t. Why?”

“Oh… nothing. Thought I heard something,” he mumbled, narrowing his eyes before walking off toward the elevator.

Phew. That was close.

He was now typing furiously on his phone, probably texting some other poor soul while you walked behind him,holding the small bag with today’s files, heels clicking softly against the marble floor.
And yet somehow, even while being insufferably late, dramatically annoying, and childishly irresponsible…
He still managed to charm the client and did whatever was necessary….
without any problems.
Which made you even more annoyed for some reason.

After what felt like a century of delays and distractions, you finally met the client.
Ijichi was out sick, which meant Gojo had to drive. But of course, Gojo didn’t trust other drivers, said something about “energy vibes” or “death grip steering wheels”, so he had to drive himself. Unfortunately, that required effort. And Gojo? Was allergic to effort before 1 p.m.

You, being the sane one, suggested walking. The café was only ten minutes away. Harmless. Simple.
Right?

Yeah, wrong.

The walk to the café was fine,nice, even. The weather was crisp but not too cold, a gentle wind making the city feel more alive than usual.
But the way back?
Hell on Earth.
Gojo stopped at ten different stores.
Ten.
You counted.

It wasn’t even surprising,he had a notorious sweet tooth, but this? This was next-level. He went full “unsupervised rich kid in a candy shop” mode. Every store he walked into, he walked out with at least two bags of junk food like he was stocking up for a sugar apocalypse.
By the time you made it back to the office, it was 4:30p.m.
He had five bags in hand.
Five.
You, because you were too nice for your own good, offered to hold one.
Just one.
He handed you three.
On top of the work bag already slung over your shoulder.
You wanted to chuck everything at his head, stomp on the candy like a war declaration, and watch him cry like a toddler in a grocery aisle.
But you didn’t.
You just mentally reenacted it, and somehow that was enough.

Once inside, Gojo tossed his bags onto the couch in his office like a man unloading the weight of the world, then reached over and took the ones you were carrying without a word.

“Since we already had lunch,” he said cheerfully, as if that solved the problem of time lost and calories consumed, “why don’t we go through the latest shipment details together?”

He shrugged off his coat and flung it onto the back of his chair, then collapsed into the center of the couch like it was a throne. Without hesitation, he began ripping open candy packaging like a man possessed.

“Yeah, sure. I’m just gonna grab my laptop,” you mumbled, too tired to argue. You shed your coat, snatched your laptop, and dragged yourself to his office.

You sat down on the far end of the couch, very far. The usual spot you always took.
Away from the chaos.
Away from him.

Gojo stared at you for a full minute, a Pocky stick hanging from his mouth.

“I don’t bite, you know,” he said finally, voice dry.

“Hm?” You blinked at him.

He sighed dramatically, then stood up, walked to his desk, and grabbed his laptop and a stack of files. With a thud, he dropped them on the coffee table in front of you,then sat right next to you with the biggest manspread imaginable, knees taking over any personal space you once had.

“Okay,” he announced, cracking his knuckles. “Let’s get this party started, shall we?”
You didn’t answer.
You were too busy trying not to scream.
Or laugh.
Or both.

You’d always been good at your job, as far as Gojo could remember.
Too good, maybe.
Always serious.
Always on task.
Never laughed at his jokes, save for the occasional stiff smile here and there, and even those didn’t feel real.

Not that he cared.
Okay, maybe a little.

It had become a low-key mission of his: break your perfect little assistant persona.
The one that thought she was giving off office siren vibes when in reality, she was just giving emo nerd who thought being nonchalant was a personality.
That’s how Gojo Satoru liked to describe you in his head.

“Okay, that’s done,” Gojo muttered, tapping on his laptop. “What’s the number for the ADP file again?”

Pause.

“Hey..four eyes-”he started, eyes still on his screen, fingers moving fast across the keys. Then he glanced over.

And stopped.

There you were, head tilted back on the couch, glasses slightly crooked on your face, lips parted in soft, unconscious breaths. Your pen was still clutched loosely in your hand like you’d been mid-note when sleep finally took over. The lights were low,just the soft glow of the desk lamp and the city’s skyline illuminating the office in the background.

He blinked.

Then he sighed.
Through his nose, long and slow, shaking his head.
You looked... calm. Probably the calmest he’d ever seen you. Your usual sharp edges,your strict posture, tense shoulders, your clipped, polite tone, were nowhere to be found. And, yeah, he hated to admit it, but you looked kinda cute.

Just kind of.

His own shirt was half unbuttoned, sleeves rolled, hair a mess from constantly running his fingers through it all day. And here you were, slumped and snoring softly beside him.

Yup, dead asleep. Hair all messy and glasses crooked.

Cautiously, he reached over and gently removed your glasses. He placed them on the table next to your laptop, which he quietly closed. Then he powered down his own.

That scent hit him again, the one you always wore. It wasn’t floral. Not fruity. Something warm and earthy. Subtle, like it was made just for you. It made his chest feel... weird.

He leaned back on the couch and threw an arm over his eyes with a groan, head tipping back harder than expected. The movement jostled the couch, and you. Just slightly. Enough that your head slid sideways, landing softly against his shoulder.

His breath hitched.

Slowly, carefully, he peeked under his arm to look at you again.
You didn’t stir.
Your head was resting on his shoulder. You were... drooling.
A little.
On his shirt.
He smirked.

Oh, this was gold.
He glanced at the phone beside him on the couch. A dangerous little idea formed in his mind, and his smile grew wicked.

“I’m a genius,” he whispered to himself.
He picked up the phone, opened the camera, and started snapping pictures like a man on a mission. First a regular one.
Then a close-up.
Then a dramatic under-angle.
One with your nostrils.
One zoomed in on your crooked glasses.
A blurry one.
A selfie with you drooling on him where he threw a peace sign over your head.

He cackled softly, hunching over the phone like an evil villain. “These are going in the vault,” he whispered.

When he finally put the phone down, the smirk faded just a little.
He turned to look at you again.
Really look.
You hadn’t moved.

A stray bit of hair had fallen across your face. Without thinking, he reached out and brushed it away, just a quick, gentle swipe of his fingers against your temple.

You stirred. A small noise escaped your throat, a wrinkle forming between your brows.

He froze.

But you didn’t wake up.
He leaned back again, slower this time, keeping still. Eyes on the ceiling. Thoughts in a swirl.
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
And in that moment,he realized he didn’t mind.
Not when you were beside him like this.
Not when the storm of your usual energy finally settled... and left behind a kind of peace he didn’t know he needed.

He closed his eyes and relaxed his body. Shoulders slumped down, head resting on the comfortable couch and his assistant next to him.

She is warm

That’s the first thing he notices. Not the weight of you on his shoulder or the faint sound of your breathing but the warmth, your presence.

Subtle and soft.

He peeked through his lashes to look down at you. Lips slightly parted and of course, eye brows furrowed. He snorted softly, thinking what could you possibly be dreaming of?

He never liked that look on your face . Always scowling, a crease between your eyebrows that he is always teasing you for “you’ll probably end with up pre mature wrinkles if you’re gonna do that” or something along those lines.

His hand moved before he could stop it. He lifted it slowly, almost hesitantly—like getting too close would break something delicate. Something not meant for him.
With two fingers, he gently smoothed the crease between your brows.

The skin was soft. Warm. Still faintly cool from the office air. He dragged his thumb over the bridge of your nose and back up, tracing slow, quiet circles between your eyebrows—like an instinct he didn’t know he had. Calming you.
Calming himself.
The wrinkle eased.
Your lashes fluttered but didn’t open.
Gojo exhaled.
He should stop. He should pull away and pretend this never happened. But instead, he kept going, faint, rhythmic motions, massaging away tension you didn’t even realize you carried. The kind of tension he was probably responsible for. The kind he never knew he wanted to erase.
You shifted, just a little, and your head nestled further into the crook of his neck. Your lips brushed lightly against the fabric of his shirt.
Gojo froze. His pulse skipped once.
Twice.
Then the warmth hit him again, spreading slowly, treacherously, from the center of his chest to the tips of his fingers.
He swallowed hard.

No,no,no.
NO.

What the hell is this?
Affection?
Disgusting.
Unacceptable.

That his assistant. He can’t do this. No.
She is not even his type but then why is she looking so cute…

His eyes wide and warmth spread through his skin again heart racing like a horse running in empty fields. But instead it felt like he was the one running through that field, twilight sky, filled with flowers with an addicting scent that lingered in the air.

Your scent.

And he wanted to drown in that scent forever.

He squeezed his eyes shut, resting his fist on his forehead and gently smacking it.

What the hell?

Finally taking a deep breath, he looked down at you again. Eyes wandering all over your face. Memorizing, studying you silently.

Long lashes, a couple of small freckles on your jaw that were barely-there. And a mole right below the corner of your lips. His eyes trailed slowly over your features, tracing invisible lines with reverence he didn’t know he was capable of. You weren’t the kind of beautiful people noticed right away—but you were the kind that lingered.
And now you were sleeping against him like it meant nothing. Like it hadn’t just dismantled every wall he spent years building.

He let out a slow breath, eyes flicking to the clock. It was late. Too late. You’d get a sore neck if he let this go on any longer.
His hand reached up again—hesitant, careful—as he brushed a strand of hair from your face and tucked it behind your ear.

“…Hey,” he said softly, voice just above a whisper, as if speaking any louder would ruin the stillness.
“Wake up.”

Nothing.
His voice stuck in his throat.
He wanted to say your name, but it felt too intimate for some reason. Just the thought of it made his cheeks grow warm. He shook his head and then tried again, a little more amused now.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Time to go home.”

Your brow twitched first. Then your eyes fluttered open, slow and bleary, squinting at the light.
You blinked at him.
Then blinked again.
And Gojo, heart annoyingly light in his chest, smiled lazily down at you like nothing had just happened.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he teased gently.

You blinked up at him, dazed, the fuzziness of sleep still clinging to your thoughts like static.

Then the weight of what had just happened slammed into you all at once.

Your eyes widened.

You were leaning against him.
Your face was on his shoulder.
You slept on your boss.
Oh god.

You bolted upright so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash.

“I-oh my god! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-!” you blurted, scrambling to sit properly

“I was just going to rest my eyes for a second, and I didn’t think-I didn’t mean to- that wasn’t professional, I swear I wasn’t trying to-!”

You wobbled as you stood, your knees protesting the sudden movement. A wave of dizziness hit you hard, making you sway slightly on your feet.

“Whoa!-hey, hey, hold on,” Gojo said, already standing, stepping into your space without hesitation. His hands came up to lightly grip your elbows, steadying you with ease.
Your breath hitched. His grip was gentle, but grounding.

“You’re okay,” he said, and this time his voice didn’t have that usual teasing edge.
Just calm.
Sure.

“Relax. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You stared at him, still mildly mortified, heart thudding somewhere between panic and embarrassment.
He gave you a small, tired smile. “You fell asleep. Big deal. Honestly, I should be apologizing for working you to the point of passing out in your own office.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but the warmth in his gaze and the steady pressure of his hands at your arms dulled your protests before they could form.

“Come on,” he said, letting go and already reaching for your laptop.
“Let’s pack up. I’ll drive you home.”

“You don’t have to-”
“I know I don’t,” he cut in, throwing you a sideways glance. “I want to.”

That shut you up.

He didn’t say anything else after that, just moved around the office with quiet efficiency, gathering your things alongside his. Like it was natural. Like it wasn’t a big deal.

But as he held the door open for you, guiding you out into the hallway with that same hand still hovering near your back, just in case you swayed again, you couldn’t help but feel like something had changed.

Something soft. Something quiet.

And you weren’t sure what scared you more. 
The way your heart responded to it...
Or the fact that his didn’t seem to be denying it anymore either.

Chapter Text

All you wanted to do was sit somewhere and rest your poor feet. The fancy red bottoms you’d worn,the one you bought through Gojo’s grace, his card, were absolutely killing you. Each step sent a pulse of pain through your heel, and to make things worse, your boss was nowhere to be found.

You had checked nearly every corner of the building, but there was no sign of white hair or smug blue eyes.

It wasn’t even a large venue, an old Victorian building, most of its rooms closed off for privacy since high-profile business owners and investors were attending a very fancy workshop. Naturally, Gojo was invited. Which meant you were, too.
Good thing he said you “wouldn’t have to work”,just smile, walk around, and make small talk. That’s what he told you, anyway. But the moment you got him a drink like he asked, you returned to find he had vanished, swept away by a group of men who clearly had business to discuss.

And now, here you were. Alone in some random hallway, feet screaming in pain, and with no idea how to get back. The hallway was long, dimly lit, and quiet,the eerie, creaking floorboards doing nothing to ease your nerves.

You sighed and tapped your phone screen again, trying your luck one more time.
No answer.

“Hey there,” a voice called out.
You jumped slightly, startled, and looked up.

“Oh, uh, hello, Mr. Kamo,” you said politely, recognizing the man instantly.

“Please don’t call me that,” he chuckled, waving a hand and brushing back a strand of hair from his face. “Just Choso. Please.”

He extended his hand. It was warm,maybe a little sweaty, but you shook it without hesitation. It would’ve felt rude to wipe it off on your skirt, even if you really wanted to.

“Okay, sure,” you laughed awkwardly, shaking your head.

“What are you doing all the way down here? I saw you come in with Gojo earlier, wanted to say hi, but you disappeared.”

“Yeah, about that... I’m actually kind of lost,” you admitted, fiddling with your fingers as you offered a sheepish smile. “He disappeared on me, and I ended up wandering around trying to find him.”

To your surprise, Choso just chuckled softly and scratched his cheek. “Come on, I’ll walk you back. You’re way off course,this part of the building isn’t even open to guests. It’s mostly for executives.”
He gestured for you to follow him, already turning away.

You hesitated, wobbling a little in your heels before catching up as best as you could.

Then he suddenly stopped, turned, and pointed at himself. “Before you ask, I am one of the executives. Just in case you were wondering why I’m allowed here.”

He smiled again and turned to lead the way without waiting for your reply.
Not that you were going to ask. You weren’t the nosy type. You were just grateful someone was helping you out of this creepy corridor.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Thank you,” you said softly.

“Don’t mention it,” he said over his shoulder. But after a few more steps, he turned again and frowned.

You didn’t notice right away. You were too focused on not tripping, holding your silky skirt up on one side as you stepped carefully over the ancient, groaning floorboards.

“Here,” Choso said suddenly, his voice breaking through your focus.

You looked up and blinked. He was holding out his arm to you.
You stared at it, then up at him. He wore a calm, sincere smile that made something flutter unexpectedly in your stomach.
You cleared your throat, adjusted your glasses, and placed your hand on his forearm. His bicep was solid under your fingers.

“Thank you,” you whispered, almost embarrassed by the warmth crawling up your face.

“No worries,” he said gently, slowing his pace to match yours.

His hair was tied in a low ponytail, a few strands loose over his forehead. He really was…attractive. Quiet. Polite. There was something calm and grounded about him. If you thought about it, he was like a male version of you, reserved, observant, understated.

You two walked slowly, arms linked, laughing here and there as Choso pointed out strange old paintings and made a sarcastic joke about how haunted this hallway probably was.

“So, how’s work treating you? Is your boss still a pain like he was the last time I saw you?”
Choso asked casually, eyes ahead, but sneaking glances at you from time to time with a subtle smile.

You gave a small laugh, fingers gripping his arm as you walked alongside him.
“It’s... fine, I guess. Mr. Gojo is very nice, but he can be a little rude sometimes. I don’t realize how much his words affect me until it’s too late.”
You let out a long sigh.
Choso chuckled knowingly. “Yeah, you’re right about that one. He’s a good person but comes off pretty insensitive sometimes.”

You nodded, carefully watching your steps down the stairs. “Yeah... sometimes. But he’s not that bad.”

He hummed in agreement, then gently placed his hand on your lower back. It was subtle and didn’t linger, but it stayed long enough for you to feel the warmth of his touch, and your breath hitched just a little as your eyes blinked in surprise.

“And we are back to the main hall,” he said as you both reached the last step.

You stopped, holding onto the railing and scanning the room. Then your eyes fell on Choso again, who stood just a step down with a soft smile. He extended his hand toward you, clearly offering to help you down that last step.

But, of course, someone had to ruin the moment.

“Yo! Four-eyes, where’ve you been? I’ve been looking for you.”

You resisted the urge to scowl and throw a stapler at his head. That voice was unmistakable. You barely had a second to respond before he added:
“Don’t tell me you were off on a little rendezvous,” Gojo smirked, approaching the two of you like he hadn’t just said something completely embarrassing. His sunglasses were still on despite the fact you were indoors.

Classic.

Choso’s hand lowered casually to his side, and for some reason, that bothered you. More than it should have.

Gojo patted Choso’s back with mock friendliness, chuckling.
“Are you trying to steal my assistant from me?”

Choso smiled. “I just found her in the C wing,lost. Thought I’d help her out.” He turned to you, then back to Gojo.
“I wasn’t trying to steal her... unless she wants to be stolen.”

His gaze flicked to you.

You blinked a few times, sure you heard that wrong. Your cheeks burned and you quickly looked down, pretending to fix your blouse or do literally anything that didn’t involve eye contact.
Gojo, meanwhile, laughed loud and obnoxiously
.
“Well, careful there, she’s expensive. Very high maintenance,” he grinned, slinging an arm over Choso’s shoulder. “But if you’re really brave, I might let you have her for a day, see if you can even last till lunch.”

He turned to you then, still grinning.
“And of course, we gotta ask the lady herself, right? What she wants.”

Now you were definitely uncomfortable. Both men looking at you, expecting a response, and you were suddenly hyperaware of the heat in your ears and how dry your mouth was.

You let out a small, awkward laugh and glanced around, desperate for an exit.
“I think...I should go..um Utahime texted me that she is waiting for me. Sorry but if you can please excuse me”
With the sharp pain bolting through your feet you walked past the two of them.

“Thank you for earlier Mr Kamo” smiling politely at him and then nodding towards your boss who was watching you with an intense look.

You awkwardly walked as fast as you could towards the corner of the room away from all the eyes totally forgetting why were you even wandering off.
Right.

Thankfully, you found Utahime talking to someone near a tall window. You let out a breath you didnt even realize you were holding.

“Hey there princess , how have you been?” She teasingly poked your side before pulling you into a hug.

you giggled “hello to you too I’m fine how have you been? Hows the new office life huh?”

“Meh, its not bad its just boring. No one follows the rules or respect their seniors which is annoying” she raised her eyebrows and lips in a grimace.

“Awh man thats not good. Some people are just rude, honestly i cant stand those either” you shool your head pushing your hair out of your face.

Utahime snorted “well in your case you’re the assistant to the king of brats so i don’t know how you’re still mentally functioning properly ”

You roller your eyes and waved your hand “we don’t talk about that because i don’t have the answer myself”

“Speak of the devil” utahime murmured

“Ohh look whos back. Miss me much Utahime?” Gojo strolls over holding a glass with some bright red drink. Comfidence and ignorance radiatonh either every step he took

“Ha you wish” utahime corssed her arm and gave him an uninterested look

“Didn’t know you had a thing for Choso?” Gojo said lazily taking a sip from his drink without looking away from you

You blinked. Your face remained neutral but your jaw ticked a tiniest bit.

Utahime gave him a look like she was about to throw her drink at his face. “Seriously, Gojo?”

“What?” He shrugged pretending to be innocent. “It’s not everyday I see my assistant giggling and blushing like she’s in a romantic drama. I’m just a little….surprised thats all”

“I wasn’t giggling” you said under your breath, looking everywhere but at him.

You opened your mouth to argue, but Utahime cut in. “Maybe if you hadn’t ditched her, she wouldn’t have gotten lost in the first place.”

Gojo’s smirk faltered, only slightly. “I didn’t ditch her. I got pulled into a meeting.”

Utahime raised both brows. “You mean the meeting with that trio of airheads talking about some after party at a yacht?”

Gojo clicked his tongue “still business”

“At the bar lounge?” She deadpanned

You tried to hide your laugh behind your hand.

Gojo’s gaze snapped back to you instantly, catching the smile. His lips twitched, like he couldn’t decide whether to frown or grin.
He settled for tilting his head.

“So,” he said, setting down his glass on the nearby table. “You and Choso, huh?”

“There’s no ‘me and Choso,’” you replied, still trying to stay diplomatic.

“Oh yeah? First he gives you his card then he is giving you his hand? He seems pretty interested.” He glanced down at you.

“It’s not like that” you shook your head. Tugging a strand of your hair behind your ear, “he was just being..nice. He helped me thats all”

Gojo stared at you as Utahime groaned and rolled her eyes “I need a drink. I am getting second hand embarrassment by being here”

She gently pats your back and murmured “good luck”

She walked off, not-so-subtly bumping Gojo with her shoulder on the way.

“Just call me or text me next time if something like that happens” Gojo says softly watching you with your neutral expression, totally different than the one you had earlier when you were with Choso.

“I did” You glared at him “three times”

His eyes widened.

Oh.

Gojo mentally cursed and patted his coat pocket, pulling out his phone. Five notifications. Three text messages from you and two missed calls.

He grimaced.
“…Oh.”
You sighed, arms crossing over your chest as you stared at him. The flicker of guilt on his face was hard to ignore.

“Look, I wasn’t trying to ignore you,” he said quickly, slipping his phone into his pocket like it was the culprit. “I—uh—I was just busy, okay?”

“Yeah. Sure. I get it.”
Your voice was flat, a practiced deadpan.

He placed his drink on the nearby table a little too hard, and started gesturing with both hands, clearly flustered.

“Okay..no, but listen- I really didn’t mean to-”

“Mr. Gojo,” you interrupted, your hand gently resting on his wrist. His words stopped immediately, eyes flicking down to your touch, then back up to your face.

“It’s okay,” you said softly. “I get it.”

Your tone was calm, but not cold. Just… distant. The kind of professionalism that made his chest tighten for some reason.

“Let’s go now, yeah? There are people still waiting to meet you, and then we’ve got to get going.” You gave him a small smile, more courteous than warm.
“You’re meeting your friends for dinner tonight, remember?”

He blinked at you, lips slightly parted like he wanted to say something—but no words came.
You didn’t wait. You stepped back, letting your hand fall away from his wrist, and gestured toward the hallway with a nod.

“Shall we?”

And just like that, the distance between you settled back in. Polite. Efficient. Untouchable.
But the spot where your hand touched his wrist?
Still tingled.

Your feet ached.
And so did your cheeks.
You’d been smiling far too long at these businessmen,and women, and the high-ranking executives who barely acknowledged you beyond a polite “hello” and a handshake.

You were exhausted. It was getting late, and there was still no sign of Gojo being ready to leave. He was surrounded by people like candy by ants. You watched from a distance, offering the occasional smile, but mostly observing the way his white hair gleamed under the chandeliers, the way his eyes sparkled like cut glass.
That wide, easy grin. The way he carried himself like he was born for this.

You admired that most about him—how quickly he adapted, how effortlessly he commanded a room.

Suddenly, his eyes found yours.

You offered a soft, polite smile.
He smirked. A small, knowing thing.
Then his attention snapped back to the women surrounding him. He said something to one of them, then looked at you again. You were now glancing at your phone, frowning at something unread. You shifted your weight, twisting your ankle slightly and wincing as the strap of your heel dug in deeper.

“Shall we?”

You looked up, startled.
“Yes, Mr. Gojo. Are you done?”
Your voice came out smaller than you expected.

You glanced over at the cluster of guests still laughing behind him, then back at him.

“All done,” he said with a little flourish. “Shall we head out?”

You nodded and fell in step just behind him.
“Ijichi should be outside soon,” he murmured, checking his watch as you walked.

You sighed, trying to keep up, silently cursing the shoes you chose. You didn’t realize he’d stopped until you nearly bumped into him.

“You good?” he asked, head turning slightly, brows raised.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “I’m fine.”

“Here,” he said, extending his arm toward you.
You blinked. “Huh?”

He smiled, then reached for your hand, guiding it gently to rest on his bicep.
“You should wear your hair down more often,” he murmured, eyes locked on yours.

Your heart stumbled in your chest.
You stuttered, “Uh-haha..yeah, um…”
 You smoothed your hair down with your free hand, eyes fixated on where your fingers now rested on the curve of his arm.

He chuckled and softly said your name, warm and affectionate.
“Let’s go, shall we?”

You gave a broken, breathless “yeah,” then cleared your throat.
He matched your pace easily, head held high with that trademark smirk on his face as he nodded at people passing by.
Some waved, a few offered smiles to you.
Others sneered.

You ignored them.

The cool air outside greeted your skin like silk. The sound of the fountain echoed nearby as you stepped into the open space in front of the roundabout. Still no sign of Ijichi.

The sky was painted in hues of orange and rose-gold, so unreal it almost looked staged.
But not more surreal than the man next to you.
Whose arm you were still holding.
Whose biceps were warm and firm beneath your touch.
Whose scent was something musky and sweet, the kind that made you want to close your eyes and sink into it.

You did close them.
For just a second.

“Are you okay?”
His voice brought you back.

You blinked. “Yeah, all good. Just… tired.”

“Have they been bothering you?”

You looked at him, puzzled. “Bothering me? Who?”

He tilted his head slightly toward your feet.
“Your shoes. They’ve been bothering you, haven’t they?”

“Oh, these?” You lifted one foot slightly, gripping his arm with both hands for balance.
You laughed softly. “Kind of. Bad call for tonight. Should’ve worn something comfortable, but I wanted to look more presentable, so…” You paused and winced. “Pretty sure the back of my heel is bleeding.”

You expected a grin, maybe a snide joke.
Instead, he just… stared.
Eyes down at your ankle, lips tugging into a frown.

And then, you yelped.

Because your feet were suddenly in the air.

“Mr. Gojo! What the hell!?”

You clung to him in shock, arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders.

“What?” he asked innocently, hoisting you higher with zero effort. “You looked like you were in pain. I'm not letting my assistant walk around with sore feet. What if she takes the day off? Who’ll manage my schedule then?”

There was a glint in his eye now. One that should’ve annoyed you.
But it didn’t.
Not really.
“But,I can walk..please..put me down. It’s embarrassing. What if someone sees-“

“Shhh. Calm down, Four Eyes.”

Your breath hitched.
His face was close.
Too close.
You could feel it, his breath against your cheek.

“It’s fine,” he continued, like carrying you bridal-style was perfectly normal. “No cars allowed in the front. We’d have to walk all the way around to the parking lot. Ten minutes instead of five. You’ll survive.”

“But-”

“Keep talking and I’ll drop you,” he warned with a grin.

You shut your mouth. Immediately.
Which only made him smirk more.

“You didn’t have to, you know,” you muttered. “I’m pretty heavy.”

“Pfft,” he scoffed. “Feels like I’m carrying a sack of potatoes.”

You gasped. “So I am heavy?! You’re comparing me to a sack of potatoes?!”

He stopped in his tracks, staring at you. “No! I meant…like..you're as light as a sack of potatoes. Because they’re not heavy. To me. I meant you’re light to me.”

You giggled, biting back a smile. “I’m kidding, Mr. Gojo. I know what you meant. Just teasing.”

He stared at you for a second longer,then dramatically swayed you side to side.

“Well, well, look at that. My Ice Queen can laugh. I should call for a company-wide holiday.”

You laughed even harder, shaking your head. “No, please don’t. Maybe just a personal day for me.”

“Sure thing, babe,” he said smoothly, winking.

Your heart practically fell out of your chest.
Did he just call you babe?
From Four Eyes to Ice Queen to grumpy-chan... to babe?
What the hell was happening to him?
What the hell was happening to you?
You didn’t say a word. Just stared straight ahead, lips pressed together, willing your pulse to slow.
And then he said it. Casually.
Like it wasn’t about to destroy you entirely.

“Also,you look presentable all the time. You don’t have to switch out of your comfort zone to impress people in suits.”

Your eyes dropped to the ground, voice quieter now.
“It’s not like that. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone. I just… wanted to look different. To look more professional. You know..since I’m your assistant.”

He glanced down at you, his tone lower, gentler.
“Yeah? Well, you looked good today.”
The heat crept into your cheeks like wildfire.

“Uh,yeah, um… thanks,” you whispered.

He laughed again—quietly this time, like it was just for you.

“Oh! there’s Ijichi.”

He gently placed you down right in front of the open car door.

You mumbled a quick “Thank you,” still reeling from the warmth of his arms. You didn’t even have time to fully settle before he closed your door and slid in beside you from the other side.
The silence in the car was immediate, almost too still.
You stared at your hands folded tightly in your lap.
Then;
“About what I said earlier,” he murmured.

Your head snapped toward him, wide-eyed. He was already looking at you, his expression unreadable in the dim glow of passing streetlights.

“Your hair…” he said softly. “It really does look nice down like that.”

Before you could even respond, he reached out, slowly, and caught a loose strand between his fingers.
He twisted it gently, eyes following the movement as the lock slipped back down into place.

“Oh, uh..,yeah,” you stammered, heart suddenly thudding in your ears. “I’ve actually been thinking about cutting it. It’s gotten really long. Kinda hard to manage now.”

He didn’t react right away. Just leaned in a bit more.
“Oh yeah?” he said, almost teasing. “I mean… sure, short hair would probably suit you too.”

You smiled awkwardly, ready to thank him and change the subject, but he added:

“But I like it long on you.”

Your heart stalled.
He gave you a slow smile,something sincere and unhurried, then leaned back in his seat, turning his head to look out the window like he hadn’t just casually ended your whole internal monologue.
You were still staring at him, mouth slightly open.
Did he really just say that?
He didn’t look back at you.
So you quickly turned your gaze out your own window, trying to hide the very real, very loud flutter in your chest.

The car rolled smoothly onto the main road, city lights dancing across the windows in fleeting streaks of gold and blue.
Neither of you spoke.
He stayed leaned back, elbow resting against the window, head slightly tilted. You stayed with your eyes forward, hands still tightly folded in your lap, as if releasing them might let something else slip.

Your reflection stared back at you faintly in the glass, flushed cheeks, parted lips, a faraway look in your eyes.

This isn’t right.

And yet… your heart hadn’t stopped racing since he carried you. Since he looked at you like that.
Since he said your name like it meant something. You turned slightly, just enough to steal a glance.

He was still staring out the window, but his jaw looked tighter now, thumb tapping once against his thigh before going still.

Gojo’s thoughts were loud in the silence.
He didn’t know why he said any of that.
He didn’t flirt like that,not really. Not like this. Not when it mattered.
He hadn’t even realized how close you two had become until now.
How easily your scent lingered.
How natural your hand felt on his arm.
How... warm it made him feel to see you smile. Really smile.

This isn’t right.

He’s never mixed business with whatever this was.
She’s his assistant. Smart, responsible, guarded as hell.
He wasn’t supposed to notice the way her eyes soften when she’s tired or the way her voice lowers when she’s worried.
He wasn’t supposed to feel protective when her heels were killing her and no one else noticed.
But he did.
And worse?
He liked it.

He turned slightly, just as you did, and for a breathless second, your eyes met. Neither of you said a word.

Then he gave a soft, barely-there smile. Something almost sad.

And you returned it.

The car drove on. The distance between you didn’t shrink.
But the silence?
It didn’t feel quite so empty anymore.

Chapter Text

“Yo, four eyes. Pass me the blue binder.”

“Yes, sir.”

No please, no thank you, no manners.
And worse, he couldn’t even use your name in front of the team.

You caught a few muffled giggles. One person even choked on their coffee.
You kept your face neutral, even as embarrassment pricked your skin like static. You handed him the binder, keeping your gaze on your hands.

“Alright, so we’ve updated some policies,” Gojo announced, flipping it open without looking. “Half of Ops and Comms have moved to my floor, so now, it’s easier to communicate.”
He laughed at his own weak joke. Yuji laughed with him, because of course he did.

You discreetly rolled your eyes behind Gojo’s back.

“Also,” he went on, “you all know my assistant, she’s the one who usually takes care of things while I’m off saving the world or ignoring emails. So when I’m not around, contact her for anything you need.”

He clasped his hands and looked around at the supervisors and execs seated around the table.

“Questions?”

Rena’s hand shot up. Of course.

“Mr. Gojo,” she began with a falsely sweet smile, “what if it’s something more… confidential? Like a matter between HR and the CEO? We still go to... her?” She pointed directly at you, voice laced with venom.

Gojo didn’t miss a beat.
“Yeah. Anything means anything. At this point, nothing’s confidential here.”
He casually reached over and clapped a hand on your shoulder, dragging you to the front like a prop.

“Let me make it official. If I haven’t already.”
He gestured to the room, smirking.
“After me, Four Eyes is in charge. Got it?”

Your eyes widened like saucers.
You turned to look up at him, stunned.

“W-what? Mr. Gojo, I-”

“I said what I said.”
Then, without missing a beat:
“But that doesn’t mean she’s the boss. Only when I’m not around. Save her the nonsense. Spare me.”

Rena chirped out an obnoxiously fake “Okay, Mr. Gojo!” but you caught the twitch in her smile.

If looks could kill, her five-inch heels would’ve stomped you out of existence.

Gojo, unbothered as ever, leaned his elbow on your shoulder like it was a podium.
“Any other questions?”

When no one answered, people started packing up.

You just stood there, wide-eyed, blinking. You were used to doing everything behind the scenes, but being officially in charge?
That was new.
You were ready, sure.

But you were also not ready for the incoming dump everyone would offload onto your already full plate.

Gojo, meanwhile, was smug as ever. Practically glowing with pride. His eyes twinkled.

He clapped his hands together once.
“Alright, listen up! Dinner and drinks on me. Anyone who wants to join us at the bar after this. Be my guest.”

Cheers erupted. You rolled your eyes and turned to make your escape, slightly bumping into his shoulder.
He turned.
“Hey, Four Eyes. You’re not staying?” He tilted his head like a confused puppy.

“No thank you, I’m tired. I should go home.”

He pouted. Like, actually pouted.
“What? Come on,I’m celebrating your achievement. Let’s go.”
He clapped your shoulder like a bro. You flinched.

“Uh, I don’t drink, sir. I think I should-”

“Perfect. I don’t drink either.”
He grinned.
“We’ll get some fancy mocktails. Let’s go. I’ll be waiting.”

He winked and strolled out, hands in his pockets, clearly not accepting “no” as an answer.
You stared at the door after him, shoulders slumping.

Behind you, Rena shot a glare so sharp it could cut steel.

You sighed under your breath.
“It’s gonna be a long night.”

You stared at your reflection in the bathroom of the upscale restaurant-bar. Of course Gojo would pick a place like this expensive and loud, with dramatic lighting that made your under-eye bags even more obvious.
Your eyes were red from wearing your glasses too long. You’d taken them off, now massaging your lids before splashing cold water on your face. Your hand reached back to undo your bun, but the sharp click of heels made you freeze.

Through the mirror, you saw Rena.
“You.”
Her voice dripped with venom.
You turned around slowly, still drying your hands. She stormed closer, glaring as she scanned you from head to toe.

“What did you even do to make Gojo like you so much?” she snapped.
“You dress like someone’s grandma, and your looks,ugh, don’t even get me started.”
She laughed bitterly, arms folded.
“I can’t imagine you seducing him. Let’s be real even if you were the last woman on earth, he wouldn’t look at you.”

You sighed and remained still, calm, quiet. Too quiet. That only seemed to enrage her more.

“I’ve been working my ass off at this company for years trying to get Gojo’s attention. And you come in and ruin it all.” She jabbed a finger at your chest, her voice sharp and low.
“You didn’t earn this. You don’t deserve it.”

“I’m not trying to do anything-“ you began, voice soft.

“Shut up, you fugly little thing. Just shut up. You’ll never be enough. No one likes you. So stay away, from him, from everyone, freak.”

With that, she turned on her heel and stomped out.
You stood there blinking, still holding a hair tie in one hand.

“…She didn’t even let me speak,” you murmured to yourself.

You undid your bun, letting your hair fall down your shoulders in soft waves. You twirled a lock around your finger, distracted.

“I really need a haircut.”

But then Gojo’s voice echoed in your head from a few nights ago:

“I like it long on you.”

You shook the thought out like an insect in your ear.

He doesn’t like you. Rena was right. Gojo would never like someone like you. You don’t even like him. You just… tolerate him. That’s all.
You sprayed your perfume once and quickly left the bathroom.

Back at the table, Gojo was lounging on the couch talking to Yuji. Rena was seated beside him, far too close, pretending not to notice you, but smirking like she’d already won.
You sat across from them with some other team members, half-drunk and happily chatting.

“Hey, congrats by the way!” Yuji beamed at you.

You blinked.
“Uh… yeah. Thanks, I guess?”
You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, avoiding Rena’s stare, and then your eyes met Gojo’s.

He was watching you. His gaze a little too glossy. A little too direct.
A lazy smile curled on his lips as he leaned forward, elbows propped on the table.

“Look who walks in… and the whole room smells ten times better.”

You gave a small awkward laugh, equal parts flattered and confused.
“Haha… uh, yeah.”

He didn’t stop staring.
You could feel Rena’s glare burning a hole into the side of your face.

God bless Yuji for saving you.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were into anime?” he pointed to the keychains on your bag.

You looked down and smiled faintly.
“Oh, yeah. I still watch sometimes, not as much as I used to.”

“Did you make these? They look handmade.”

He picked up one of the wonky-looking keychains and examined it.

Your smile faltered for a second.
“Ah, no. A… friend made it for me, actually.”

It was a Goku keychain. Ugly. Misshapen. But you still carried it.

“That’s so cool. You’ve got a good friend.”

You forced a smile.
“Yeah. Right.”

Your stomach turned a little.

Gojo was still staring.

“What?” you asked, more sharply than you intended.

He shrugged, smiling.
“Oh, nothing.”
He leaned back casually.
“Aren’t you gonna order something, my lady?”
He handed you a menu with a smug little smirk.

“Um, yeah, I guess.”

You studied the menu, biting the inside of your cheek. As you looked up again, Gojo was still watching you, completely ignoring whatever Rena was saying beside him.

“What did you order for yourself?” you asked, raising a brow.

“Why? You wanna share?”

“No.”

“Ouch.”

“Never mind, I’ll just figure it out-”

“Pina colada. Non-alcoholic, obviously. And mochi.”
He said it like it was a normal dinner order.

You squinted at him.
“...That’s your food?”

“Yep. I ordered a lot of mochi. Enough to fill me up.”

You blinked.
“Mr. Gojo… I don’t think mochi is considered actual dinner.”

He looked mildly offended.
“Oh.”

Of course.
That’s your boss. The man who thinks sugar counts as sustenance.
You sighed, turning the menu toward him.
“Maybe get a rice bowl? Or spaghetti with meatballs? You like that, don’t you?”

He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again.

Finally, he waved a hand like royalty.
“Yeah, yeah. Get whatever. I’ll eat it.”
And just like that, he turned his attention back to Rena.

You stared at him, baffled.
You didn’t even know why you ordered for him. He’s not a child. He can order for himself.

Then again… he does eat like a child.
So you ended up giving your order to the server: a rice bowl for yourself, a plate of spaghetti for your sugar-addicted CEO, and a slice of chocolate cake for dessert.

Because even if Gojo only eats mochi for dinner, you have standards.
And also… a sweet tooth.
Just not that sweet.

Things had been going… surprisingly well.

Yuji cracked his usual idiotic jokes, the table laughed like a sitcom audience, and you forced a few polite smiles here and there. You were full. Tired. Ready to go home and sleep off the chaos.

Gojo had devoured the spaghetti you ordered for him.
Then, naturally, he turned his sights on your leftovers.

“Hey, are you not gonna eat that?” he asked, eyeing your half-finished rice bowl like a hawk.
Rena, seated beside him, looked mildly horrified.

“No, I think I’m do-oh.”

Before you could even finish the sentence, Gojo had already reached across the table, grinning like a maniac as he dragged your bowl toward himself.

“Great, I’ll finish it for you then!”

You blinked.
He said he didn’t want dinner.
Then inhaled the spaghetti.
Then your leftovers.
And now, The mochi platter for three?
Gone.
All by his hands.
Not a trace left.

You were silently judging him.
Judging him so hard.
But you kept your expression neutral as you took slow, tiny bites of your chocolate cake. You half-listened to Yuji explain some bizarre earthworm movie his intern friends were obsessed with. Something about romance? Maybe murder? You couldn’t focus.
Because Gojo?
Was eyeing your dessert.

Shamelessly.

His eyes flicked from you to your plate. Then back.
Again.
Then again.
His fingers twitched like he was restraining himself.

You narrowed your eyes.

You knew what he was doing.

“Hey, Four Eyes,” he said casually.
“You’re taking forever with that. Are you even gonna finish it?”

You stared at him.

Brat.

He could’ve ordered one for himself. It wasn’t like he was short on funds. The man practically bought the bar tonight. But no, he had to circle yours like a dessert vulture.

You shoved another bite into your mouth, holding eye contact as you chewed slowly.

“No,” you said pointedly. “I’m just… savoring it.”

Another bite.
Very slow.
Very deliberate.

Gojo tilted his head, still staring.
You squinted at him.
He was being so weird.

“Mr. Gojo,” you sighed. “Why don’t you just order one for yourself?”

“Order what?” he blinked, all faux innocence.

You raised your fork, pointing to the plate.
“The cake. You’re clearly dying for it.”

“Pfft. What?”

“You’ve been drooling over it for five minutes. It’s weird. Just get your own.”

He said nothing. Just stared.

You sighed again, pushing your plate across the table toward him.

“Here. Have a bite. Just stop hovering. You’re making it weird.” You mumbled the last part under your breath.

Gojo didn’t move at first.
Then he looked down at the cake.
Then back at you.
A slow, devilish smirk crept onto his face.
He leaned in.
Too close.

“You sure you’re not secretly my mommy?” he whispered, voice smooth and teasing.
“Because I am so well taken care of right now.”

You went completely still.
Your brain short-circuited.
Three emotions hit you at once:
* Flustered.
* Embarrassed.
* …Possibly disgusted.
You stared at him in stunned silence.
Then stared at the cake.
Then stared at yourself, questioning every life choice that led to this moment.

Gojo casually took a bite of the cake like he hadn’t just said something that should absolutely be illegal in the workplace.

Yuji, mercifully, was still rambling about earthworms.

Rena looked like she wanted to slam a wine glass into the wall.

You shoved yourself back a little, trying to find the right word to say something, but nothing came out. He didn’t bother saying anything either.

Thank God.
And thank God no one else was really paying attention, except for Reina, who was staring with the same stunned expression as you.
Wide-eyed.
Unblinking.

As Gojo shamelessly took massive bites of your dessert, then had the audacity to offer you a sliver of what was left.

"Want some?" he asked, like he hadn’t just inhaled 90% of your cake.

You wanted to smash the plate over his perfectly sculpted face. Instead, you politely declined.

He’d called you mommy.
You lost your appetite.
But somewhere in the back of your mind, you were crying, because you really wanted that cake.

Now you were glaring as Gojo polished off the last bite of your chocolate cake like it was his.

“Was it good, Mr. Gojo?” you asked with a smile so fake it should’ve been trademarked.

“Yeah, it was pretty good. Shame you didn’t want any. Really, best chocolate cake I’ve ever had,” he said while wiping his mouth, completely unbothered.

What you wanted to say was:
Yeah, you idiot. I wanted to eat that cake. But you were looking at it like you hadn't eaten in years. And when I offered to share-ONE bite-you devoured the whole thing and asked me if I wanted the crumbs?! Read the damn room, you moron.

Instead, you smiled again. “I’m glad you liked it.”

He smirked.

Paid the bill.

Everyone was slowly getting up, saying their goodbyes.
Reina latched onto his arm like a koala, fluttering her lashes, thanking him sweetly.

You didn’t have the energy for more nonsense.
You stood up, thanked him briskly, said a general goodbye to everyone, and walked out of the restaurant.

The cold air outside hit you like a truck.
The city was glittering with neon lights, and you cursed yourself for forgetting your coat in the office.
You checked the time.
10:35.
If you were quick, you could still catch the 11 PM train.

You were about to walk when the door opened behind you. You moved to the side.
Of course,it was him.

“Oh look at you,” Gojo drawled, hands shoved in his pockets. “Bolted out of there pretty fast. What’s the rush?”

You quickly smoothed your hair back from the wind. “Yeah, I have to catch the train,” you said, shivering. “So I should probably go. Don’t wanna miss it.”

“Really?”

You turned to face him, and he looked… annoyed?

“Yeah, I have to-”

Flick.

“Ow! What’s your problem?!” you yelped, rubbing your forehead.

“My problem?” he echoed, brow furrowed in mock offense. “Is that how you talk to your boss now?”

You blinked, startled by the sudden shift in tone. His voice was serious.
If looks could kill, you’d be six feet under.

You bowed your head slightly. “Uh… Sorry, Mr. Gojo. I didn’t mean it. I apologize for-”

He burst out laughing. Loud, cackling, child-seeing-a-clown laughter.
You looked up at him in disbelief.

“Oh, your face! I can’t believe you fell for it!” he wheezed, bracing a hand on his hip. “I was kidding. Let’s go. I’ll drop you home, four eyes. When have I ever let you take public transport this late when I’m around?”

His smile was soft. Sincere.

It reminded you of that first night he drove you home from the office, same warm expression, same quietly kind eyes.
You just nodded, sniffled slightly.
He opened his mouth to say something, but the restaurant door opened again.
Reina stepped out, her smile gentle, until she saw you.

“Let’s go, Mr. Gojo,” she said sweetly, latching onto him like gum on a shoe.

“Oh, yeah. Let’s go,” he said, glancing between the two of you. “I’m dropping both of you home.”

His car pulled up to the curb.
Shiny.
Fancy.
Loud as hell.

Before he could open the door, Reina bolted for the passenger seat like it was a competition. She slid in, clutching his arm like she’d won something.

Gojo blinked, then glanced at you. You were already heading to the back seat, silent.

He exhaled loudly and got into the driver’s seat.
“Alright, let’s get out of here.”

“Reina, where do you live?” he asked, tapping at the navigation screen.
She gave him her address, throwing in a cute little blink as she did.
Then she turned to you.
“Well, we can drop her off first, she said she was tired, and her place is closer than mine, right?”
You stiffened. Reina knew exactly what she was doing.
But Gojo just hummed, eyes still on the road.
“Actually, I was thinking of dropping you off first. Your place is like ten minutes from here. Saves me time.”

His tone was casual, smug.

Reina blinked, lips twitching, but she couldn’t argue.
They started talking about something else.
You didn’t listen.
You were too busy wondering why he lied.
Your place was definitely closer than hers. It would’ve made more sense to drop you off first and then head her way.
Weird.
Maybe he had another route planned.

The car finally came to a halt. Reina leaned forward with a breathy “Thank you,” then squeezed his bicep. You nearly gagged.
Gojo just smirked.
And then, to your horror, she leaned in and kissed his cheek.
You inhaled through your nose, turning your face to the window.
Awkward.
Awful.
He chuckled as she giggled her way out of the car, completely forgetting you existed.
You rolled your eyes and shut them for a moment, trying to reset your brain.
Then you heard the door open.
You opened your eyes, Gojo was stepping out and walking around the car.
He opened your side of the door and extended his hand.
“Um… what?” you said, staring at him, confused.

Was he kicking you out?
Was this where you got abandoned?

“Come sit in the front,” he said simply. “It’s lonely driving alone.”

His voice was quiet. Lips curled in that soft, crooked smile, his hair tousled from the breeze.

You hesitated, then reached for his hand. It was warm.
Larger than yours. He didn’t let go.

The second he felt how cold your fingers were, his expression darkened.

“You’re freezing,” he muttered. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He held your hand tighter, his palm covering yours completely as he guided you to the front seat.
He opened the door, let you sit, then closed it gently behind you before slipping back into the driver’s seat.
He didn’t say anything as he started driving again.

But the heater was suddenly on full blast.
And your hand was still tingling.

“Uh, Mr. Gojo… that’s not where I live,” you muttered, your head turning sharply as the car passed the street he was supposed to take.

“Yeah, I know,” he replied casually, throwing you a smug glance as if this was normal.

“Then why-?”

“’Cause I wanna take you to the woods and chase you with a knife,” he deadpanned, grinning as he gave an exaggerated shudder.

“Not funny,” you scowled.

He just laughed and reached over to ruffle your hair. You flinched out of habit but didn’t dodge fast enough, no one ever escapes his dumb little hair ruffles.

“Relax,” he said with a smile. “We’re going to get dessert.”

You stared. “What?”

“Yeah, I know it’s late. But I want more. Pretty sure you do too, by the way you were eyeing my cake earlier.” His eyes flicked to you, mischievous. “You were totally jelly.”

You sat up, offended. “It was my cake.”
“Yeah, but you gave it to me, so it became mine.”

You huffed and crossed your arms. “You’re impossible.”

He opened his mouth to say something, paused, then let out a little giggle as he glanced at your pout. He looked way too pleased with himself.

A few minutes later, he nodded at a small bakery ahead. “This place has great brownies. You want ice cream on yours? Chocolate drizzle?”
You squinted at him, suspicious. He raised his eyebrows with that smug, soft-eyed charm.

“…Yeah,” you cleared your throat. “Yes, please.”

He grinned, pulled up to the drive-thru, and ordered for both of you. A warm brownie with ice cream and drizzle for you. A small milkshake for him. You tried to ignore how... domestic this felt.
On the way back, you took your second bite when he asked casually:

“Can I have a bite?”

You froze.

“Um… I don’t have a spare spoon.”

You looked at him like that was reason enough to back off.

He shrugged. “I don’t care. Unless you do? I promise I don’t have cooties.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine.”

You turned slightly, ready to offer the dessert, but he just gave you a look like you really don’t get it, huh.

“Hello? Where’s my bite?”

“What? It’s right here-”

“Do you really expect me to eat while I’m driving?” he asked, deeply offended.

You blinked. “You’re the one who asked for a bite.”

“Yeah, so feed me, you idiot.”

You stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“Put that spoonful of brownie in my mouth,” he said, not even trying to hide his grin. “Unless… you want me to call you mommy again?”

“Ugh, you’re disgusting.” You dramatically scooped up a bite and shoved it toward his face.

“Aaaaah~” he opened his mouth obnoxiously wide, like a five-year-old.
You twisted your face in pure disgust, wondering if you should just stab the spoon into his smug mouth and be done with it.

He took the bite dramatically and moaned. Loudly. “Oh my god. Is this laced with crack?”

You snorted. “You’re insane.”

“You love it.”

“I tolerate it. Big difference.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, babe.” He winked at you.
Your heart did a slow, traitorous flip.
There it was again.

Babe.

You took a deep breath, trying not to overthink it. But curiosity got the better of you.

“Mr. Gojo…” you tested.

“Yes?”

“Why are you like this?” You laughed lightly, head tilted.

He looked at you with a soft smile.
“Like what? Charming and insanely handsome? I was born this way.”

You shook your head, still laughing.

“You’re definitely one of a kind.”

You turned your attention back to the dessert, slowly scooping another bite into your mouth, forgetting entirely that he’d just used the same spoon.
Gojo, at a red light, caught it from the corner of his eye.
And just like that, all the smug drained from his face.

His cheeks turned red as the realization hit him: he had used the spoon after you. Which meant-

An Indirect kiss.

He blinked hard, gripping the steering wheel, suddenly quiet.

Clearing his throat, he looked away. The usual confidence was gone, replaced by a slightly flustered silence.

You didn’t notice at first. But if you had looked over right then, you would’ve seen the Satoru Gojo, one of the wealthiest,influential and strong businessman in the country blushing like a teenage boy at prom.

“Oh, Mr. Gojo? That one reporter who’s been trying to get your interview emailed me again,” you said casually, finishing the last bite of the brownie and occasionally feeding him spoonfuls without thinking too much about it.

Gojo’s brows shot up. “Oh yeah? What about her?”

“You remember her, right? Kiara?” you glanced at him. “She says she wants to meet tomorrow. Since your company’s new brand deals and the partnership in Korea, she’s desperate for an exclusive.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Ugh. Yeah, whatever. If I’m free tomorrow, set it up. I wanna get that crap over with.”

You nodded, checking your phone briefly. “You’re free after 3:30. I’ll schedule it unless you tell me otherwise?”

“Yeah, that works.” He shrugged, waving a hand vaguely in your direction.

You nodded again, starting to gather your things and tossing the trash into a small paper bag as he pulled up in front of your apartment building.

Before you could open the door, Gojo quickly moved around and opened it for you.

You blinked at him but didn’t say anything.

Stepping out, the cold air hit your face instantly. His body was close, too close, as the two of you stood there, the only barrier between you being the car door.

Your cheeks flushed.
His too.
Whether it was from the cold or the sudden proximity, you couldn’t say.

You adjusted your bag over your shoulder, fumbling slightly. He wasn’t giving you much room to move, and you were too focused on avoiding eye contact to notice how his gaze kept dropping to-

You finally looked up-and caught him staring.

He quickly looked away, clearing his throat.
“Thank you for tonight, Mr. Gojo,” you said softly.

“Yeah,” he replied, voice unusually quiet. “No worries.”

His eyes found your face again. His breath hitched,just a little, and his mind began to race.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen women more beautiful than her. He had. Plenty.
And yet—he couldn’t take his eyes off her face.
Her gaze was lowered, breath quick and shallow. She looked flustered.
A single strand of hair kept brushing against her right eye, and she kept trying to flick it away, but the wind was too strong.

Before he could think, he lifted a hand and gently moved the strand aside.

She flinched at the sudden touch, eyes snapping up to meet his.

And just like that, they were staring at each other,really looking, for the first time.

Her wide-eyed gaze held his for a moment that felt too long, too loud, before she blinked and glanced down.
But he couldn’t look away. Not now. Not from her.

His hand was still behind her ear when she gently pulled back, clearing her throat.
The sound made him blink rapidly, as if snapping out of a trance. He took a few awkward steps back, rubbing the back of his neck and swallowing hard.

“I should get going. Um… thanks again for everything tonight, Mr. Gojo.”

Her voice was soft. She didn’t look at him as she turned and walked away.

Gojo let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
He stood there frozen, watching her figure grow smaller until she reached the door,
Then she paused.

She turned, glanced over her shoulder, and smiled.
A small wave.

He waved back stiffly, like a malfunctioning robot.

And just like that, she was gone.
He sat down in his car, breath shaky. One hand pressed over his chest, the other running through his hair as if trying to shake something loose.

“What is happening to me?” he whispered.

His heart wouldn’t stop pounding.

Chapter Text

You shut the door behind you, exhaling hard, not even realizing you'd been holding your breath. Tossing your bag down, you rubbed your palm across your forehead, then touched your cheeks. Warm. Of course.

The way your boss looked at you. The way he touched your face, even if it was only for a second.
He was so close.

You let out a muffled scream, bending down to pet your cat, who had been watching you intently since you stepped inside- his eyes judgmental, as always. You probably shouldn’t be thinking about Gojo. At all .
He’s your boss, for god’s sake.
He’s not even your type, and you’re definitely not his.

So then… why the hell were you getting all tingly?

After changing into your pajamas, you lay on your bed, staring up at the ceiling- blinking, thinking, spiraling. Too many things swimming around in your head:
The restaurant, What happened in the car, after Reina left.
Reina acting like a mean girl - which, honestly, you couldn’t care less about.

whatever that was tonight. You didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want to think about it.
And yet... here you were.

Maybe he was just being friendly.
Maybe you were reading too much into it.

You turned to your side with a sigh, one hand tucked beneath your pillow.
“It’s gonna be a long day tomorrow…”

On the other side of the city, Satoru Gojo lay on his back, arms sprawled, staring up at the darkness above. 

Contemplating. Regretting. Cringing.

The decisions that led to this moment.
The words he didn’t say.
The way she looked at him as she said goodbye.

He groaned, burying his face into a pillow and letting out a noise that could only be described as a whimper, a teenage-girl level of mortification, not that he’d ever admit that out loud.

For a man who never shut up, why had he been speechless?
That look on her face.
Fluttered… and disgusted.
Or maybe just confused.

Yeah. Probably the latter. Hopefully not the former. But most likely... both.

Her eyes, they weren’t as striking as his (he knew he was being arrogant, but facts were facts)  and yet, he couldn’t look away from them.
They’d pulled him in. Held him there.
As if she’d whispered a spell without saying a word.

He rolled onto his side, arms folding underneath his head, eyes shut tight.

What was he supposed to say tomorrow?
Should he tease her? No. Bad idea.
Pretend nothing happened?
Yeah… that was probably worse.

“Ugh…” he groaned into his pillow, “It’s gonna be a long day tomorrow.”

Satoru Gojo is back to usual self the next morning. One thing to out him in serious mode was work. And lots of work and unexpected visits.

An unread email catches your eye, furrowing your eyebrows then twitching your lips, you don't recognize the name but you definitely recognize the last name.

“Oh, shit,” you murmur, scrolling quickly to read the full message

You facepalm, check the time, then grab your phone and rush straight to Gojo’s office.

You burst in without knocking. “Mr. Gojo, I just got an email-“

Gojo, mid-bite into an apple, raises an eyebrow. “Okay... and?”

“It’s from the former director,” you say slowly.

He freezes, apple still in hand, brow creasing.

“He’s coming to see you in-“ You check your watch. “-like, ten minutes.”

“You’re joking right?”

“No I am not”

He blinks, then takes another bite of his apple. Leaning back in his chair, he begins to spin lazily. “This old man couldn’t wait until the weekend?”

You clear your throat. “Um, Mr. Gojo, you also have a meeting scheduled with Kiara. For an interview, I believe?- but don’t worry its not until 2 and its only 12:30 soo..” 

“Oh, fuuuuuuck,” he groans, yanking at his hair before tossing the half-eaten apple perfectly into the trash can behind him.

Gojo groaned dramatically as he shot up from his chair, eyes scanning the room like he was under siege. He began frantically straightening up his office, shoving the mountain of papers off his desk and into random drawers like a college student before a dorm inspection.

You watched him spiral into full-on panic mode-was that actual sweat on his temple?

Awkwardly tapping your shoe against the floor, you cleared your throat.

 “Um… Mr. Gojo? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine…”

Your eyes widened slightly. That was the first time in ages he’d called you by your actual name.

“Actually,” he continued, crossing his arms as he walked toward you, “I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

You instinctively pressed your lips together, unsure of what to expect. “Yeah, sure. What is it?”

“When the former CEO gets here, keep everything… lowkey, would ya?” he said, cocking his head to the side.

You squinted. “I’m not quite sure I understand…”

Lowkey? What the hell does that mean?

Your mind began spinning. Was he planning a prank? No, he looked way too serious for that. Did he have some shady connections? Illegal dealings? No, no, you would’ve noticed something . Right?

Your train of thought derailed as suddenly, your face was getting squished-more specifically, your cheeks.

“Oh my god , stop that,” Gojo scolded, palms squashing your face like a stress ball.

You tried to respon d “Stop what?” but it came out as a muffled, garbled mess: 

“Shtap wha-“

“ Thinking. You’re thinking too hard. I can hear the fax machine in your head,” he muttered, glaring at you with mock disapproval before giving your cheeks two more playful squeezes. “Cut it out.”

You blinked up at him, flustered. “Okay then… can you please tell me what’s going on?”

He turned his head toward the window, taking a deep breath. His eyes fluttered shut briefly, and a faint smile curled on his lips-something softer, almost nostalgic.

“You probably know who this person is, right?” he asked. “Aside from the fact that he was the former CEO.”

You nodded instinctively, then realized he wasn’t even looking at you. “Yeah, I do. If I may ask… is that your father, perhaps?”

He finally turned to face you. The smile was still there, but it had shifted- now tinged with something heavier, sadder.

“No,” he said quietly. “That’s my grandfather. Satoshi Gojo.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and nodded. “Oh. Okay… but what exactly do you need me to do?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Just pretend that… everything’s going well at work-”

“Sorry to interrupt, but it is ,” you cut in. “Unless you’re hiding something?”

He twitched, glaring at you. “No, you idi- uh, I know everything’s going well. But can you just… not mention much work stuff around him? I just don’t want him to worry. Or think too much about all this. He’s.. he is old and retired but that is still not stopping him from being involved you know? And I don’t want him stressing anymore. Not now.” He rubbed his temples before sighing, his shoulders slumped slightly “it is just.. it’s complicated” 

You could hear the shift in his voice- less teasing, more real. His next words came slower, a little heavier.

“He trusts me, yeah… but still… do not give him any information, nothing.”

Then he looked you straight in the eyes. Voice low, deliberate.

 “Now the question is- Can I trust you?” He said your name with unsettling clarity, holding your gaze.

 That was odd. Him asking if he can trust you? As if you don’t have access to his office and to all the confidential information present in the office. Plus, the fact that you have been to his house numerous times  whether it’s to feed his cat or to pick and drop documents and files. But still, you hesitated a little at first not knowing what exactly he meant by if he can trust you.

“Yes, Mr. Gojo.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Good. I figured he was the one who asked you to send those old reports and stuff. Don’t reply to him next time. Forward those emails to me instead. Got it?”

“Yes. Okay.”

“Any questions?”

“No. Everything’s clear.”

He stared at you like you’d just handed him the formula for a nuclear bomb.

Blinking once. 

Twice.

You cleared your throat. “Can I go back now?”

He nodded shakily. “Uh… yeah. Just- uh..I’ll call if I need anything. Don’t call me or let anyone interrupt while he’s here. Not for anything .”

And just like that, you’re dismissed. Sent back to your desk, questions crowding your throat-but you don’t ask any of them. It’s not your place.

Not your worries.

Back at your desk, you're scanning his schedule, half-writing a confirmation email to reporter Kiara, when the elevator dings.

Heavy footsteps approach.

Lifting your head, you spot an old man already staring straight at you.

Your boss’s grandfather.

The former CEO.

S atoshi Gojo.

“Good afternoon, you must be Satoshi Gojo? I’m-” you start, rising to greet him, but he’s already in front of your desk.

“Oh, I know who you are, dear.”

He grabs your hand in a surprisingly aggressive handshake that shakes you where you stand.

“Oh, is that so?” you say, voice shaky as he keeps shaking your hand.

“Yeah, Satoru talks about you all the time. How you take care of his little Tofu when he’s visiting us.”

Seriously?

You tightly smile as you rub your arm. “Oh yeah, right.”

What a pain. Worse, your boss had made you sound like a babysitter , not his assistant.

A babysitter for his cat.

“I also take care of some work stuff too,but I’m assuming he never told you that?”

A small smile creeps onto your face, even though you’re scowling on the inside.

He lets out a hearty laugh, throwing his head back. The light catches his bald head like a disco ball.

“Oh I know, I know. And I also know-”

“ Gramps, what are you doing here?”

-

The office door shuts with a thunk . 

Silence.

Gojo exhales slowly, trying to look cool as he strolls to his desk, but he stumbles a little on a loose wire. He quickly covers it with a cough.

Satoshi Gojo, sharp-eyed and sharper-tongued, doesn’t sit. He just stands , arms behind his back, staring at his grandson like a military general inspecting a barely-passing cadet.

“Why do you look like you're about to confess to a crime?”

“I don’t,” Gojo says, voice an octave too high. “This is just how my face looks when I’m relaxed.”

“Your face looks like it’s in court.”

Gojo tugs at his collar. “Do you want some tea? Coffee? A sedative?”

“I want to know why my grandson has disappeared off the face of the earth,” Satoshi replies calmly, as he finally- finally - sits. “We haven’t seen you in months. Your grandmother’s been worried” 

Gojo lowers into his seat like a guilty teenager. “I’ve been... working . You know. CEO things. Big man stuff.”

“Hm.” Satoshi leans forward. “Too busy to answer your grandmother’s texts, but not too busy to do Kareoke with Suguru.”

Gojo rubs the back of his neck. “What are you talking about?”

Satoshi just stares. 

Satoru gulps.

“We have social media too, you know?”

Sweat trickles down Gojo’s temple. “Okay, okay. I’ll visit this weekend. Promise. I miss you guys too.”

Satoshi doesn’t break eye contact. “Your Grandmother has been worried sick, like you were some soldier deployed overseas.”

“I’m deployed to the battlefield of capitalism,” Gojo says, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. “It’s brutal out here.”

The older man ignores him. “Satoru, the company’s anniversary event is in a couple of weeks. You’ve prepared everything, right?”

Gojo frowns, straightening up slightly.
“Yeah, Gramps, everything’s good. My assistant-”

“-No,” Satoshi cuts in sharply, voice like a slap on the wrist. He crosses his arms with that familiar I’m disappointed but not surprised energy.
“I asked if you are prepared. Not your assistant.”

Gojo’s mouth opens, then closes.
For a second, he looks like he’s about to throw himself out the window just to avoid the conversation.

“This is important,” Satoshi continues, like he hasn’t just crushed what little confidence his grandson had left.

“Everyone will be there. The media. Investors. Old names. New threats. People who want to see this company thrive... and people who want to see you fail.”

Gojo rubs the back of his neck, glancing at the floor. “I know, Grandpa. I know.”

“Do you?”

Gojo exhales, trying not to roll his eyes too hard.
“Is that all? You could’ve called, you know. If you wanted to talk about this.”

“I did call. You didn’t answer.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Satoshi scoffs. “Is that it?”

“I really don’t know what to tell you, Grandpa,” Gojo says with a tired shrug. “First, you send an email to my assistant announcing your arrival-what if I was in a meeting? Second, you’re not making any sense right now. Or maybe I’m just too tired to care.”

He runs a hand through his hair, clearly worn out.

Satoshi’s tone shifts, softer now. “Son, look… we care about you. Don’t burn yourself out. I’m here to help.”

“And you’ve done enough,” Gojo replies, voice low. “I got this. Okay? Please, I just need you to trust me.”

“That’s what your father used to say before he-”

“Let’s not talk about that, shall we?” Gojo cuts in sharply. The tension in the room hardens like ice.

Satoshi sighs, regret tugging at the edge of his mouth. “Satoru, I’m just-”

But he’s cut off again, this time by a gentle knock at the door.

Gojo quickly straightens, brushing invisible wrinkles from his suit. “Come in.”

You step into the room, hands behind your back, face composed. “Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Gojo, but the reporter is requesting to see you earlier than scheduled. She says she won’t take more than an hour. Should I adjust the time or keep it the same?”

Before Gojo can answer, Satoru leans forward smoothly.
“Actually, tell her to come in within the next hour.”

He flicks his gaze to his grandfather, who seems slightly caught off guard.

“He’s just leaving… right, Grandpa?”

Satoshi huffs and waves a hand. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

You nod politely. “Alright. I’ll take care of it. Thank you.”

You flash a courteous smile at the older man before turning and walking out. Satoshi returns the smile with an unreadable look that lingers just a second too long.

Gojo watches you leave. Watches a little too long.

The second the door shuts behind you, Satoshi’s gaze slides over to him like a hawk that’s just spotted prey.
He quirks an eyebrow.

Gojo stiffens. Realizing he was very obviously caught checking out his assistant’s rear .

He clears his throat loudly, face warming.

“So,you heard my assistant. I have an interview coming up. Very busy. Please leave so I can do my very important CEO things.”

Satoshi just chuckles as he gets up. “Yes, yes. I’m leaving. Don’t screw anything up, Satoru.”

Gojo walks him to the door.

“What do you mean, ‘don’t screw anything up’?” he calls out as his grandfather steps into the hall.

Satoshi pauses and turns, eyes squinting in a way that’s somehow both amused and menacing.

“You know what I mean. And don’t forget to visit this weekend. Take care, Satoru.”

He gives his grandson a solid pat on the back and walks off.

On his way out, Satoshi notices you still at your desk, typing like the keyboard owes you money. Eyes glued to the screen, you completely miss his presence.

He taps lightly on the edge of your desk.

You jolt slightly, looking up quickly.
“Oh! You’re leaving already, sir? Or… is there anything I can help you with?”

Your tone is calm, professional. But the smirk he gives you-subtle and sly-makes you pause.

That smirk. So that’s where your boss gets it from.

“No, nothing at all. And yes, I’m heading out,” Satoshi says, folding his hands behind his back. “Just wanted to thank you for sending those drafts a while ago, like I asked.”

“Oh, no problem at all. Anytime.” You give him a polite nod.

“Hopefully I’ll see you again soon,” he says with your name, walking toward the elevator.

You blink. “Yeah… hopefully.”

You furrow your brows as he leaves. That was oddly specific. But you shrug it off, settling back into your chair and diving back into work.

Back to emails. Back to Gojo’s never-ending calendar.

Back to pretending you’re not being slowly pulled into the strange, chaotic orbit of Satoru Gojo.

Completely unaware of a bigger mess that awaits for you.

Chapter Text

After his grandfather left, Satoru Gojo sat alone on his couch, staring out through the tall windows. He blinked slowly, his thoughts drifting in too many directions at once.

But one thought in particular kept circling back.
You.

He was conflicted,caught between what his brain told him and what his heart kept whispering. It wasn’t like he was close to you the way he was with Ijichi, who used to handle everything for him. And maybe his feelings weren’t exactly romantic, but there was something about you he couldn’t quite pin down.

He thought you were a little weird. Maybe even a bit emo. Not that he’d ever say that out loud, God forbid you’d lash out, or worse… resign. No, he couldn’t have that.

But there wasn’t much time to dwell. Someone was here for an interview, and the last thing he wanted was to sit through it. Cracking his neck, he stood, deciding instead to wander out and bother you for a bit,maybe even convince you to cancel it.

“Yo, four-eyes.”

You looked up with a scowl. “Can you please stop calling me that? I have a name.”

“I know,” he smirked, leaning against your desk, “but I like this one more.”

“I don’t. So stop.”

“Too bad. I like it.” He pouted for a second, then tapped his finger against his chin as if struck by sudden

inspiration. “Hey, I know!”

You stared at him flatly. “Oh, God.”

“I should call you Wednesday. Get it?” His grin stretched into a Cheshire cat smile.

“No. I don’t. And it’s Thursday today.”

He flicked your forehead lightly and chuckled. “Because you act like Wednesday Addams. You’ve got the whole goth vibe going.”

Your brows furrowed even deeper. You were not goth or emo like that? Wednesday Addams? That was pushing it. And you didn’t even wear dress gothic or anything like that.

Not that any of this stopped him.

“Actually,” he went on, “you’re not as creepy as her, but you’ve definitely got the same emo energy. That’s why your new name will be Wednesday.”

You wondered, not for the first time, how exactly this man was running a major company.

Satoru Gojo was undeniably smart. Everyone knew that. Good with numbers, good with tech, good with machines,basically anything he set his mind to. You’d been his assistant long enough to notice his obsession with tinkering. Random days when he’d vanish from his office, or when you’d stop by his house and hear strange noises coming from his basement.

All those A-grade genes, wasted on a man who sometimes acted like a ten-year-old.

“What the hell are you thinking about, huh?”

“Nothing much,” you huffed.

He studied you for a second, eyes flicking between your face and your computer. Then, like a lightbulb going off, he said, “Hey, I was thinking you could call the journalist and cancel the meeting.”

You stared. “Really, Mr. Gojo?”

“Really. Pretty please.” He batted his ridiculously blue eyes at you.

You groaned and reached for the phone. “Why are you like this?” You snagged a sticky note and began dialing.

“Wait! are you actually doing it?” He leaned back slightly in surprise.

“Yes. What else?” you murmured into the receiver.

His grin widened. “You’re the best. I’ll be in my office.Thanks.”

Before leaving, he ruffled your hair and swiped the mug sitting in front of you.

“Mr. Gojo, that’s my cup.”

“Oh?” He looked down at it casually, then took another sip. “Well, it’s mine now.”

You scowled.

He had no shame .

No hesitation, either.

the one you made specifically for yourself, and started drinking it like he owned the damn thing. Which, to be fair, was exactly how he acted about everything .

You crossed your arms, jaw tight. “I made that tea for myself .”

He didn’t even flinch. “And it tastes amazing, very fruity and sweet” he murmured, lips brushing the rim as he took another sip. “Didn’t peg you for a fruity tea type though. I thought you liked those bitter green things you always force down.”

You blinked.

“It’s herbal,” you muttered. “With raspberries. That’s why it’s… sweet.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, smacking his lips exaggeratedly. “Definitely sweet. Kind of addictive, actually.”

You stared.

He drank from your cup .

You had already sipped from it. He didn’t care. Not even a flinch of disgust. That stupid, smug look on his face didn’t falter- not once.

“Make some for me next time, will ya?” He smiled, smirked , right at you. Eyes locked on yours as he lifted the cup again like it was a toast. “Same sweetness.

Your lips twitched, trying to scowl but failing to hide the heat climbing your neck.

“Sure thing, Mr. Gojo,”you said through gritted teeth and a tightly strained smile. “Glad to know you’re so easily pleased.”

“Oh, I’m not,” he said, setting the cup down with deliberate slowness. “But you? You’re getting close.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and sauntered off, still sipping your tea .

You glared at his back -

Well, I will make sure to poison it next time.

After doing what you could, you pushed back your chair and reluctantly stood. Your steps toward Gojo’s office felt like a slow march to the gallows.

“Oh, he is not gonna be happy,” you muttered under your breath, clasping your hands together like prayer might help.

Please, any gods above who might be listening, Let him be understanding. Let him be less annoying than usual.

You had zero interest in babysitting a fully grown man today.

“Mr gojo the journalist Kiara is here apparently” you announced flatly.

He stops typing on his computer and looks at you “what”

“I said kiara-“

“Yes- I heard you thats why I said what” he replies sounding mode confused than irritated.

“I am sorry, I tried. She didn’t pick the call up for the first time, or for the second time. But when she did, she told me she is here,apparently.”

“Ugh this is such a pain” gojo throws his  head dramatically and grips his hair. “I have work to finish and this journalist wont leave me alone”

“Well you did told me to book her in for today”

“Yeah, no shit. I don’t know what was I thinking” he closed eyes and runs his fingers through his hair. Thinking,plotting how to escape for this.

You don’t blame him for spiraling, honestly. You would’ve brushed it off as one of his weird half decisions if it wasn’t for the fact that, one of the interns told you, the journalist wanted to sleep with your boss. She was down bad and everyone was aware about this, but you. Until now

“I know. Umm.. Uh…” you offer, rubbing your temple. “Should I tell her you’re not in? Oh wait—she already asked the front desk and knows you’re here. Want me to make something up? Pretend you left? Got sick? An Emergency maybe?”

You were grasping at straws, but anything sounded better than watching this circus unfold.

Gojo didn’t respond. He just stared up at the ceiling like it held the answer to all of life’s inconveniences. Maybe it did. Maybe it told him what you didn’t that you were exhausted from the work load.

And him?

He was well aware that Kiara wasn’t just here for an interview.

She wanted to sleep with him.

And honestly, at first, he didn’t mind the idea. It would be a convenient distraction,from the stress, from the workload, from… you.

You’d been on his mind since last night, and maybe this would help untangle whatever he was feeling. Gojo wasn’t exactly the type for casual flings or one-night stands, but he wasn’t opposed to the thought if it meant silencing the noise in his head.

Still, deep down, he knew he’d never actually go through with it.

Just as Gojo opened his mouth to say something, you stiffened, eyes darting toward the elevator.

“Shit. Someone’s coming up here…, what the hell?” You bolted out of the office, fast on your feet, heart already racing. No one was supposed to have access to this floor without clearance. Not unless the front desk gave it… and someone clearly had.

“Miss, please wait, you can’t go in the-“

Your voice was sharply cut off by the click-clack of heels that could slice concrete and a perfectly manicured hand that shoved past you like you were made of air.

The door swung open behind you with theatrical flair.

“Oh, well hello, Mr. Satoru Gojo,” purred a too-tall woman in a too-perfect frame, her lipstick the same deep red as the soles of her heels.

You stumbled after her, brow furrowed, voice tight with a warning. “Mr. Gojo, she wouldn’t-”

But Kiara cut you off like you were nothing. “Can you give us a minute?”

she said, her eyes barely glancing at you. One hand on her hip, the other flicking at you like you were a bug hovering too close.

You froze.

And your boss? He didn’t say a thing.

“It's okay,” he finally said, waving a hand dismissively, his eyes still locked on Kiara. “Just stay out, yeah? I’ll call you if I need anything.”

He didn’t even look at you.

Your name felt foreign on his tongue in that moment-like a code to dismiss the help.

You swallowed hard. “Okay, Mr. Gojo,” you said quietly, stepping back like you'd just been told to heel.

Back at your desk, you sat down slowly, staring blankly at the blinking cursor on your monitor.

Meanwhile, Gojo was stared at the woman who crossed her legs as she settled into the chair across from his desk, the smooth leather of her portfolio resting on her lap.

“Thank you for making time for me, Mr. Gojo,” she said with a practiced smile that lingered a beat too long.

“Of course,” he replied, leaning back in his chair like he had all the time in the world. “Always happy to entertain the press.”

She tilted her head, pen tapping against the paper. “I hear you’ve been working on some… fascinating projects lately. But you don’t seem the type to share everything publicly.”

“That’s because I’m not,” he said with a lazy grin.

Her eyes glimmered as if she enjoyed the challenge. “Well, maybe we could talk… off the record sometime.” Her tone dripped with implication.

Gojo smirked, but his gaze flickered briefly-too briefly- toward the glass wall of his office. Through it, he could see you at your desk, head bent over some paperwork, hair falling just enough to hide your expression. You were probably rolling your eyes at this very moment.

He dragged his attention back to Kiara. “Off the record, huh? Sounds dangerous.”

“Danger can be exciting,” she said, leaning forward slightly.

He almost laughed, almost . But his mind was already drifting. You’d been quiet with him since this morning, no comments, no muttered insults when you thought he wasn’t listening. He wondered if it’s because of him from the night before.

“…Mr. Gojo?” Kiara’s voice snapped him back. She was looking at him expectantly, clearly waiting for an answer to something he hadn’t heard.

He covered smoothly. “Sorry,just thinking. You were saying?”

Her smile sharpened.

“I said… maybe we could meet outside the office sometime. Drinks, dinner,whatever suits you.”

Gojo tilted his head, pretending to consider it. But in his mind, he pictured you making that annoyed little face you always made when you thought someone was wasting your time.

Maybe he should’ve been focusing on Kiara. But instead, he found himself wondering what you’d look like if he asked you to dinner.

The whole time he gave vague answers, not exposing many details about the company or himself. Rather his mind was focused on something else or perhaps, someone else.

The interview wrapped up with Kiara closing her portfolio and rising gracefully from her chair.

“Well,” she said, adjusting her coat, “I think we’ve covered enough for today. Unless you’d like to continue… somewhere more private.”

Gojo chuckled under his breath, standing and slipping his hands into his pockets. “Tempting offer. But I think we’ll stick to professional boundaries,for now.”

Her smile didn’t falter, as if she knew “for now” wasn’t a no.

He walked her outside of his office, his usual effortless swagger in place. From the corner of his eye, he caught you looking up from your desk,expression unreadable, though he swore you blinked twice as if deciding whether to glare or not.

“Thanks again for stopping by, Kiara,” he said, as he pressed some buttons on the elevator. “I’ll… keep your invitation in mind.”

“Please do,” she replied, letting her fingers brush lightly against his arm as she passed.

He didn’t look back at you, at least, not until she’d stepped into the elevator. Only then did his gaze linger on your desk, on the way you immediately dropped your eyes to your computer as if you hadn’t been watching.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Don’t wait up,” he murmured under his breath before strolling toward the elevator after her.

Chapter Text

Checklist? Done.

Schedule? Done.

Administrative work? Done.

Data reviewing? Done.

Shipment information? Sent.

All the workload that was due this week or next was done.  You on the other hand? Exhausted? No. You had so much energy that you could go for a run.

You throw your coat over your shoulders  and adjusted your  tote to check your phone as you stepped into the elevator.

You were done for the day which meant that it’s been almost 3 hours since your boss disappeared.

You honestly wanted to throw up when you saw him and Kiara flirting. You were definitely not eavesdropping, its was rather they were just right in your line if vision thats all.

You were annoyed, annoyed at your boss that he just left you to manage the shit show and annoyed at yourself that you were annoyed he left. 
he left you alone.

it was none of your business honestly. He can do whatever he wants right. You’re just his assistant, then why did your heart skip a beat when he followed Kiara into the elevator. That thought was long gone from your head as right now, there was only one thing in your mind.

Dinner.

This morning, when you were making your breakfast you realized that your fridge was partially empty. Which meant that you had to stop at the grocery store before going home. You were too lazy to cook, too lazy to buy groceries. You were just tired.

Resting your head against the cold elevator wall, you were contemplating your head whether to get-take out or groceries?

You squared up your shoulders as the elevator doors began to open, with a sigh you Stepped out and said a quick goodbye to the girls at the front who surprisingly smiled back at you.

Heels clicking on the floor as you pushed open the front door. The cold air hit your face which made you close your eyes for a second before you made your way towards the station.

Dinner or takeout?

Your reflection staring back at you as you look out from the window. It was already dark, but the city was still busy, still bright. Finally, you decided to actually cook a nice healthy meal once as a while ago you promised yourself to make healthy choices.

Grocery store it is, then.

The ride was quick to store was quick-or Atleast that’s what it felt like. You shoved your headphones on and made your way around the aisle to look for some drinks- perhaps lemonade? 

You stood at the end of the aisle, checking to see if there was any lemonade in the flavor you liked- what you didn’t notice was a head of white hair poking from behind a tower of canned drinks, right in front you.

Your hand still hovering in the air as blink. Once, twice.

There is no way..…no! maybe someone else with white hair?

You squinted your eyes as you took slow deliberate steps and poked your head from the corner to check if your eyes were not deceiving you- and to your suspicions, it was indeed none other than Satoru Gojo.

Your boss.

What the heck?

Spinning around in your heels, You quickly turned the other way lowering your head walking in the opposite direction where you wanted to go.

Just like a student seeing their teacher outside of school.

What was he even doing here anyway? Wasn’t he supposed to be enjoying drinks with Kiara? Why was he hiding?

It was like a light bulb that went on in your head. Hiding? 
The thought of Satoru Gojo hiding from someone intrigued you for reason. But was he really hiding or….? Well there was only one way to find this out. You couldn’t help but to let the curiosity get the best of you.

You turn around, slowly as you tiptoed your way towards the end of the aisle, so you were facing his back while having a full view of him.

Your headphones disposed into your bag at this point.

Poking your head out from behind the shelf, you watch him looking to the right, then to the left slowly as he was hiding from the cops like a thief. The theme song from pink panther playing somewhere in your head as you witnessed this guy sneaking off, at the grocery store. Other people were giving weird looks for his suspicious behavior and some were giving the same looks to you but you were too busy spying.

Gojo started to walk away slowly, eyes still observing his surroundings. You squinted further to get a better look, his suit looking quite disheveled, top buttons undone exposing his chest and a silver chain around his neck. You had to admit he managed to look good if it wasn’t for his expressions - that was more like a dog walking with its tail tucked in its legs.

Yeah, you were shamelessly checking your boss out. At a grocery store.

He abruptly stops and disappears in the aisle next to him. What?

You leaned over a little to see what was going on, straining your neck a little you see, Kiara, on her phone talking loudly to someone on the phone.

Was he hiding for her?

Didn’t he leave earlier with her why would he do that?

Talking about him? Where is he?

You look around to find a certain white haired lad but he was nowhere in sight.

You quickly hid back in aisle as you saw Kiara making her way towards where you were standing.

The last thing you wanted was to run into her. You turned around to get out of the area, slowly but stopped as her voice became more clear, pretending to act like a normal customer shopping, you leaned towards the cans and tried to act interested in iced tea suddenly.

“No he is just gone? Yeah!”

“He told me he had errands to run so he is gonna go shop? In the middle of our date”

You furrowed your eyebrows date? Errand? Since when does even do his own errands? What is she even talking about?

“No, I told him i will go with him right? He declined but I insisted of course, I thought I could help him take his bags to his home and you know…. But this man said he will be right back and left in cat food section!”

You stifled a chuckled. Typical Gojo, ghosting people. But the fact that this lady is still following him around without getting a single hint that he in fact wanted to ditch her.

But why? You though.

Again, his life his actions were none of your business.

You turned your head slowly as her voice turned into a distant sound.

Letting out a deep breathe, you smiled to yourself as you started to walk back to the direction you wanted to go initially, back to shopping. Your eyes widened as You saw kiara stomp in her heels and turning around.

“Shit” you muttered as quickly started to walk backwards into the next aisle.

Peeking glances to see if she was out of your way but no, she looked right in your direction and made her way towards that area.
There was no way she could have seen you. Not a chance.
You started to take few step back

“Oh crap” you whispered

You were only three steps in then suddenly your back bumped into someone. You both let out a little yelp. You turn your head so you could apologize quickly, but no words came out. Neither from you nor from the other party.

You bumped into the only person you were trying to avoid in the first place. Your backs still facing each other, both of your necks crooked as you two stare at each other in utter shock. 

Wide blue eyes like he got caught doing something illegal, mirroring yours as you clutched your tote against your chest.

Awkwardly smiling, you waved your hand, to break the tension “Uh hi Mr. Gojo”

He opened his mouth to say something but his eyes flickered from yours to look behind you- his face went from shock to utter horror within seconds.

You turned your head as well to check what was going on, just to see Kiara, squinting again right where you two were standing from end of the hall, you shook your head as you stumbled backwards

“Oh hell no”

“Oh fuck no”

Before you had any time to register, you felt his fingers clasp around your wrist, You squealed a little as he dragged you behind him instead of interrupting him and pulling your hand out of his grasp -you kept on walking, but then, the walking turned into jogging, as you heard someone call out from behind you

“GOJO”

It was Kiara, Trailing closely behind you.

Great.

“Shit” Gojo muttered as he continued leading the way, until you two were out of the grocery store.

But he didn’t stop there, you both continued jogging -no actually now you guys were running on the sidewalk through the swarming crowd as you let out small “excuse me” “sorry” to the people in the way you were trying not to bump with.

Gojo, on the other hand. Grinning. Like this was the best thing ever. In his suit.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You tried to stop but his grip on your wrist was strong.

“Mr Gojo, why are we running?” You huffed as you tried to keep up with his pace. Well here it goes, the energy you thought you had to run. Just for you to huff and puff like a dog.

And for Gojo,He didn’t answer.

You groaned “Mr gojo, stop- I cant run anymore-mphg”

He abruptly came to a halt and you ran straight into his chest-More like a brick wall.

“What the hell was that?” You pushed yourself away from but due to his grip on your wrist, you couldn’t get any further. He pulled you even closer. Groaning, you shoved him back,instantly.

He was laughing.

After all this nonsense, this man had the audacity to laugh while you were panting like a dog.

You yanked your hand away from grasp. He bent over, hands on his knees, laughing even more.

Meanwhile you were still trying to catch your breath. Suddenly, your throat felt dry- you gulped as you finally calm yourself, even Gojo seemed to relaxed a little, not laughing like a crazy hyena anymore- you were glad.

Crossing your arms, you straightened your back-Throwing daggers with your eyes.

“So what was all of that?”

“What was what?” He grinned and tilted his head, somehow appearing younger than usual.

“This! What was-” you frantically waved your arms around “-this, whatever this whole thing was”

He shoved his hands in pockets, still grinning at you with a twinkle in his stupid blue eyes. Not answering.

“Mr.Gojo, why were you in the grocery store? Why were you hiding? Why we’re running? Why- mmphh”

“Shh stop blabbering for a second. Take a breather, will ya?”His fingers gently squished your cheeks, making you pout like a silly fish.

He was too close, towering over you as you pushed his hand away.

“Stop that” you face the other way, crossing your arms. Cheeks burning- which you weren’t sure if it was from his touch or your body responding to it.

“How did you know I was hiding? Were you spying on me?” He chuckles as he steps back to get better look at you

“What,No-” You hated how your voice squeaked just then. Quickly, clearing your throat “What are you even talking about. I was not spying on you or anything like that” Trying to stay nonchalant, you avoided eye contact.

“You know, you are not good at lying” his tone light and teasing which made you snap your eyes onto his.

“I’m not lying”

“Oh yeah? Then, why were you hiding behind the shelves then?”

“No, I was not hiding. I was just looking- I was shopping okay?” Your voice more steady this time

“Oh yeah, sure. Then why did you say “oh hell no” when you saw Kiara?”

His eyes, glimmering in the dark and that stupid smirk on his face which you wanted to slap.

You stuttered as you tried to come up with something to say

“Uh, oh yeah, no i said ‘oh hell no’ because I was not expecting to see her. Yeah thats why I said that. I don’t like seeing people from work or anyone associated with work outside. Yeah that” you pointed your finger at him

“Stop it, four eyes. I know you’re lying. You were definitely spying on me” A smile spread across his face, teeth flashing.

“No, I was not. Can you stop now? Not everything revolves around you okay. I was there for groceries thats it and you happened to be there- and by the way why the hell were you in a grocery store? I thought you went to grab some drinks with him” you huffed as you raised your eyebrows

“Why you jealous that it wasn’t you?”

In that moment, you weren’t sure if you wanted to smash his head on the wall or yours.

“Oh my gosh! Would you stop that already?” You snapped

“Fine, fine. Relax. I will stop no need to get violent now” A quiet, sly laugh escaped him.

“I am not getting violent.”

”you were about to”

”no I was not”

”yes you were-“

”NO! I was not, now stop that” you stomped your foot.

Silence.

You raised your eyebrows as you turned your head back, then towards him. He was still smiling like an idiot. Sometimes, you really wondered what was going in his head. Perhaps the first thing you should do tomorrow morning is arrange a psychiatrist’s appointment for him to assess any mental disorders.

“Mr. Gojo? You gonna tell me what’s going on or should I be get going now? It’s getting late, and I’ve got dinner to make, you know.” Your voice came out a little too eager than you anticipated.

With a gentle tilt of his head, he gave you a tender smile, his eyes shining softly- as if they could get any shinier.

“Dinner you said? Lets go get dinner and I will tell you what’s going on

Chapter Text

The rooftop lounge wasn’t really made for autumn, yet here you both were. The glass walls did their best to trap the warmth, but the faint chill of autumn still lingered in the air, nipping at your ankles where your heels didn’t cover. A modern fireplace flickered to life a few feet away, its flames painting both of you in soft strokes of amber and gold. The shadows on Gojo’s face stretched long across his cheekbones, making his grin, when he occasionally bothered to wear it- look sharper, less careless than usual.

You sat upright in your chair, back straight, chin tilted ever so slightly downward as your eyes fixed on him with all the patience of a teacher watching a particularly troublesome student. Your fork rested neatly on the edge of your empty plate.

Gojo, of course, was still eating.

The clink of silver against porcelain cut through the low hum of jazz drifting from the built-in speakers, the mellow saxophone doing little to ease the awkward tension between you.
He chewed slowly, almost pointedly, as though refusing to acknowledge the way your gaze drilled into him. Every few bites, his eyes darted- not at you, but toward the city skyline beyond the glass. Neon lights pulsed in the distance, skyscrapers glittering like constellations. He seemed far more interested in them than the fact that you hadn’t blinked in thirty seconds.

“The food is  pretty good. Yeah?” He finally said, voice muffled around another mouthful of food. He didn’t even bother looking at you when he said it, just kept chewing, chopsticks tapping against the rim of the bowl.

You arched an eyebrow towards your empty plate “Yeah I know”

He laughed under his breath, but it was awkward, stilted. The kind of laugh people made when they wanted to look unbothered but actually felt the weight of being studied too closely. You didn’t return the smile. Instead, you leaned back slightly in your chair, crossing one leg over the other, still watching.

Gojo shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable under your scrutiny. His gaze darted to the fireplace, then the skyline again, then his plate- anywhere but directly at you.

He cleared his throat, stuffed another mouthful into his cheek, and mumbled, “You’re scary when you stare like that, y’know.”

Your lips pressed together in a thin line. You didn’t answer right away, just let the saxophone fill the silence, the orange firelight flickering between you.

The firelight danced across your face, catching on the sharp angle of your glasses. You didn’t flinch, didn’t soften.

“Well, sorry that my face is too scary for you,” you shot back, voice smooth and even, like it was just another observation.

His chewing slowed, his chopsticks paused halfway between plate and mouth.

Satoru Gojo stalled.

His brain blanked in the way that annoyed him instantly. Because no, you weren’t scary at all. He is just stupid and spoke without thinking or maybe it’s just he was not expecting you to say that. The thought that you thought that about yourself knocked something loose in his chest.

“Scary?” he echoed, almost choking on his food. His hand went up to cover his mouth as if that could hide his expression. The tips of his ears warmed as he leaned back, faking nonchalance. “Pfft, nah. That’s not-”   he cleared his throat, eyes darting to the glass wall, the skyline, anywhere but you, “-that’s not what I meant.”

Your brow lifted ever so slightly. “Then what did you mean?”

Gojo’s grip on his chopsticks tightened. He could feel the weight of your stare, steady and unflinching, and it made the back of his neck prickle. “Uh,” he stalled, shoving another bite into his mouth to buy time. His eyes flicked back to yours for a fleeting second, catching the firelight reflected in your glasses. His throat worked as he swallowed. “I just meant… intense. Yeah. You’re intense when you stare. Not scary.”

You stared harder, confused, suspicion flashing across your eyes. “Intense?”

The word hung in the air, and your expression was almost comical-like you were trying to figure out if he’d just insulted you, complimented you, or completely lost his mind.

Gojo shifted in his seat, his chopsticks tapping against the edge of his plate like a nervous tell. “Yeah. Intense. Not bad-intense. Just… you know. Focused. Uh…piercing?”

Blinking slowly, a sigh slipped past your lips as your hand reached out to twirl the fork in your empty plate.

“Mr. Gojo, are you going to tell me anything or…?” You looked up at him through your lashes, almost embarrassed, and you weren’t sure why.

Good thing the rooftop was dim, because if it hadn’t been, you would’ve seen just how red Gojo’s face was. His mind had gone completely blank, chest tightening as heat rushed up his neck. He sat there wide-eyed, blinking a couple of times like his brain had forgotten how to function, his heart thundering stupidly fast against his ribs.

The warm light draped across your face, painting you in shades of gold, turning you into some kind of goddess.

He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. When your brows arched in quiet expectation, he panicked, grabbing a napkin and wiping at his mouth like there were crumbs there,a nervous tell.

“Yeah, yeah, I will,” he mumbled quickly, placing the napkin into his, now, empty bowl.He scratched the back of his head, not sure where to even start.

“Ehh, so… you see… uh…”

You watched him scratch his chin, then his cheek, then his head, tapping his forehead like he was pretending to think.

All you could do was stare in disbelief. What is up with this guy?

Finally, he clapped his hands softly together, leaning forward as he called your name, making your brows lift again.

“Okay, so.. you see, I was just… hmm, how do you say it? I left with Kiara to grab drinks and food, which we did, and umm it’s just-”

“You got nervous and ditched her?”

“NO.” That came out way faster than he wanted. “No, I mean-I didn’t get nervous, pfft, me? Nervous? No way.” He reached for his water glass, your eyes following the twitchy movement.

As he gulped the water down, he leaned forward on his elbows, looking anything but composed.

You let out a tired sigh. “You know what, Mr. Gojo? It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. Just forget it.”

It wasn’t every day you saw your boss acting all… nervous. Gojo Satoru nervous.

Now, You weren’t even sure why you’d asked him to explain whatever nonsense had happened at the grocery store. It wasn’t your place, not really. None of it was your business.

But the memory wouldn’t leave you-the way he’d grabbed your wrist, practically dragging you down the aisle, his ridiculous height making it impossible to resist.
The way his eyes had darted around like a cornered animal, his usual carefree mask slipping into something sharper. Something unsettled. And the way he’d looked at you, like you were the last person he wanted there… or maybe the only one. You didn’t know what to make of it.

Now, sitting here across from him with firelight brushing his features, you regretted bringing it up.

Kind of.

Minus the dinner.

The dinner was good.

Still,you were just his assistant. A mere employee. You weren’t entitled to explanations about why your boss was in a grocery store, hiding behind shelves and bolting away from a journalist he was, apparently, supposed to be seen with.

It took him a second to realize you were serious. “What.”

“Yeah, whatever. I shouldn’t be asking you this anyway,it’s none of my business.” You bent down, grabbed your bag from beside your chair, fumbling for your wallet.

Gojo’s brows furrowed as you pulled out some cash and set it on the table.

“Here. That should be enough to cover my order.”

You were busy checking your phone and setting your bag down again, so you missed the look on Gojo’s face.

When you looked up, you flinched slightly. His mouth had flattened into a sharp frown, eyes cutting into you. He looked… offended.

“What?” you asked innocently.

He flicked the bill back at you, and it landed right in your hand.

“Keep that,” he scoffed.

“But that’s my half for my-”

“Well, I invited you for dinner, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but-“

“What do you take me for? Trying to bruise my ego?” His grin came sharp, but his eyes weren’t joking.

You shook your head quickly. “No, I just… I just wanted to pay for myself, you know? My salary’s pretty good.” You added a small smile, trying to lighten the moment.

A grin broke over his face anyway, softer this time. “Oh yeah? Your boss must be very generous.” He leaned onto his arms on the table, watching you closely.

“Yeah, sometimes. He can be very nice. Sometimes.” You mirrored his posture, setting your arms on the table and leaning in as well.

“Sometimes?” He raised a brow.

“Sounds like a nice guy to me.”

“Eh. That’s debatable.” You squinted, and his chuckle slipped free.

“Ouch.”

“No, but for real, Mr. Gojo, please, I insist-”

He cut you off, saying your name gently, his voice dropping low.

“It’s okay. I invited you, I pay. Besides…”

His eyes flicked up to yours, then dropped lower- to the delicate curve of your neck as you brushed your hair back behind your ear. The movement was small, casual, but it caught him off guard. He gulped, throat bobbing as he cleared it a little too quickly, snapping his gaze back up like he hadn’t been caught staring.

“…it’d be an insult if a man let a woman pay at the table, honestly.”

You blinked as Gojo raised his hand to call the server.

“You know what? Sure. I mean, I’m not complaining about free food.” You shrugged, fingers fumbling with the straps of your bag while Gojo handled the bill.

“Good. Let’s go then.” He stood smoothly, fixing the lapels of his suit jacket with practiced ease as you slipped your coat from the chair and swung it around your shoulders.

You followed, eyes drifting to the V-shaped back of his tall silhouette. His head tilted slightly as he glanced at the dark, starry sky beyond the glass walls.
From behind, his profile cut sharp against the reflection-blue eyes glinting faintly, jawline precise, cheekbones catching the firelight, and lips full enough to make you roll your eyes.

You sighed under your breath, annoyed with yourself. Great. Here you are, practically cataloging your boss’s A-grade genes like you’re about to start a war over them.

Why would a man like him be hiding from a woman? From Kiara, of all people. Beautiful, magnetic, the kind of woman who looked like she belonged on a magazine cover. In contrast to Gojo, she made sense. You and him? Never did.

You didn’t understand why he was running away from her, and honestly, you didn’t want to anymore.

Meanwhile, Satoru Gojo’s thoughts were anything but clean.

Why couldn’t he just say something when you asked? Why had his throat dried up, words tangling on his tongue?

Because the truth was simple: yes, he’d been trying to run away from Kiara. Because of you.

He didn’t even know what he was thinking when he stepped into that elevator with her. Drinks at some sleek bar she’d suggested, her wandering hands and syrupy voice telling him exactly what she wanted. At first, he didn’t mind. That was easy. That was familiar.

But then,he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Your face flashing in his head when he caught you staring at him and Kiara.

Your eyes that always said more than your mouth ever did.

And suddenly, Kiara’s hand on his arm felt wrong. Her breath in his ear felt wrong. Everything about it felt wrong, because it wasn’t you.

So he tried to leave.

Except Kiara didn’t take hints. She clung to him, insisted on coming along when he lied about needing groceries for his cat. Which led to his very stupid, very Gojo plan: take her to a grocery store, fake a phone call, and ditch her in the produce aisle.

He thought it was genius.

Until fate decided to play him, and he ran straight into you instead.

Now here he was, seated across from you at dinner. And when you’d looked at him, curiosity lacing your words as you asked what happened, his ego had flared. He thought you were jealous. He wanted to tease you, draw it out, make you admit it.

But it backfired.

Hard.

Because firstly, he didn’t know what to say. How would even begin to describe the “reason” why he ditched Kiara,as the “reason” sat right in front of him.

Secondly, that suddenly you didn’t want to know at all. That refusal-that indifference -made his brain go blank.

Why was his assistant stuck in his head? Why did it bother him so much that you brushed him off? Why did someone who had never shown an ounce of interest in him suddenly feel like the one person who could rattle him?

He hated it. Hated how much you mattered in that moment.

As you both reached the staircase leading down to the exit, Gojo suddenly turned, offering his hand.

Without hesitation, you took it.

His brows rose in surprise.
No excuses, no fumbling, no attempt to brush him off. Just your smaller, warmer hand resting easily in his. The ease of it made him the one flustered instead, hyperaware of every detail- the softness of your palm, the way your fingers fit against his.

He wanted to say something, anything, but when he looked at you, you were staring straight ahead, lost in thoughts he wished included him.

His gaze trailed down- eyes, nose, cheeks, lips. You were biting your bottom lip again, and his attention snagged on the small mole near your chin, angled just below the corner of your mouth. The one that drove him crazy.

Especially when you smiled, which was rare, and therefore lethal.

“Mr. Gojo, are you there?”

His head snapped up, caught red-handed. He hadn’t realized you’d already reached the bottom of the stairs. Worse, you’d caught him staring at your mouth.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. What was that?” He furrowed his brows, trying to play it off.

“I said, are you gonna let go of my hand, or should I start charging you rent?”

He blinked, then chuckled, the sound low and unguarded. Brave. You’d been braver with your words lately.

“Geez, I didn’t know your hand came with a lease agreement.”

“Yeah, and a damage deposit too,” you deadpanned.

“Well then, lucky for you, I don’t mind paying extra.” He gave your hand a quick squeeze before tugging you toward the exit, smirking.

You went quiet. He glanced back at you, catching the faint flush creeping up your neck. “Cat got your tongue?”

Bastard.

“Let go of my hand, Mr. Gojo,” you replied, shy this time. The heat climbing into your face was unbearable; your chest felt like it was working overtime, heart racing far too fast for a casual walk to the parking lot.

He stopped abruptly, loosening his grip. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he let your hand slip from his. You rubbed your palms together against the sudden chill.

“Sorry, I..uh…” He scratched the back of his neck, turning his face away as if the ground had become fascinating.

“It’s… okay. I guess.” Your voice trailed off, and neither of you looked at the other. The air felt thick with something unspoken.

“I’ll drop you off,” he said finally, awkward but firm.

“Uh, sure.” You scratched your arm, following him toward the car. There was no point in protesting, you knew he wouldn’t take the train as an answer.

Good thing his car wasn’t far. He opened the passenger door for you without a word. You slid inside quickly, muttering a quiet, “Thanks.”

The door shut, and a moment later the engine purred to life. The hum of the car filled the silence as Gojo pulled out of the parking lot, neither of you daring to break it.

The city lights streaked past the window, gold and silver blurs against the velvet dark. You kept your eyes fixed on them, pretending to be fascinated by passing storefronts and traffic lights. Anything but the man sitting next to you.

Gojo drove with one hand loose on the wheel, the other tapping idly against the gear shift, but his posture wasn’t nearly as relaxed as he wanted it to look. The silence was heavy. Not uncomfortable exactly, but charged, like the moment before a storm.

You folded your coat tighter across your lap, feeling the ghost of his hand still imprinted against your palm. Stupid. It was just his hand. It wasn’t supposed to feel like that.

“So what’s your favourite food?”

You blinked, finally glancing his way. His profile was sharp in the glow of passing headlights, blue eyes fixed on the road.

“Uh… I don’t really have one. I’ll eat anything, honestly.”

“Boring.” He rolled his eyes.

“What? Excuse me? I’m just not picky,unlike you.” You scowled.

“I’m not picky. I just don’t like the taste of certain things.” His lips curved into a smirk. “Okay, then. Least favorite?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What is this, twenty questions?”

“Something like that. C’mon, tell me. Or wait- let me guess. Nothing, since you apparently eat ‘anything and everything.’”

“Wrong. Raw celery.”

Gojo burst out laughing, the kind that rattled his chest and made you roll your eyes harder.

“What? Celery? That’s insane.”

“Celery just tastes… weird. Like chewing soap. Ugh.” You stuck your tongue out in disgust, and his laughter doubled.

“Alright, alright. My turn. Least favorite? Alcohol.” He pouted dramatically, fingers drumming on the steering wheel.

You tilted your head, smiling a little. “And your favorite is… sweets, right?”

“Bingo.” His grin flashed as he glanced your way, eyes catching yours for just a moment before flicking back to the road.

The rest of the ride passed in easy conversation, like friends, not boss and employee. You swapped stories about how you both found your cats-

him finding his cat at his grandparents house, in their backyard and how the kitten tried to drink wine out of his grandfather glass and you found yours in the trash-

traded likes and dislikes, teased and laughed until you almost forgot where you were.

But when the car pulled up to your building, reality returned like a cold breeze. He was already out, holding the door open before you could even reach for it.

“Thank you for this, Mr. Gojo.” You fumbled with your bag strap, waving awkwardly.

“No, thank you,” he chuckled. “Otherwise I’d be stuck with Kiara or something.”

You started to walk away, but his hand suddenly closed around yours, halting you mid-step.

“Uh…I just… I was thinking…” His voice trailed off, eyes locking onto yours, nervous in a way you’d never seen.

You raised a brow. “Yeah? You were thinking…?”

“I was thinking… if you… tomorrow… maybe…”He gulped, clearly struggling, eyes darting to the mole on your face before snapping back up.

You smirked, leaning closer just enough to fluster him further. “Mr. Gojo… are you trying to say that…?”

“…That…” he whispered, utterly spellbound. His cheeks—and even the tips of his ears,burned red.

“That I should take a day off tomorrow?” you finished sweetly, flashing an innocent smile.

“Yeah.. you should take a wait, what?”his head snapped back

You stifled a laugh behind your hand. But before you could step back, he caught your wrist, pulling you closer until you stumbled into his chest with a soft gasp.

“Yeah? A day off? Then spend it with me,” he said lowly, eyes locked onto yours, more intense than you’d ever seen. “Otherwise it’s denied.”

“That’s not how days off work.”

“Are you seriously trying to teach your boss right now? Hm?”

You wriggled free, crossing your arms. “Yeah. Since apparently it’s too hard for you to understand that a day off means I don’t see you either.”

He flicked your forehead, making you yelp. “Ow!”

“Go home, four-eyes. Take the day off.”

You flinched forward at his friendly pat on your shoulder. “Oh, I was kidding, Mr. Gojo… unless…” You side-eyed him with a sly smirk.

He groaned, rolling his eyes. “Just go. Take a day off, or whatever.”

You laughed, walking away. “See you tomorrow. Or not.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s not like I’ll collapse without you for a day.”

“Try not to,” you called back over your shoulder. You turned once more, voice softer now. “Get home safe, okay?”

His smile was subtle, almost boyish.

“Yeah. Sweet dreams, four-eyes.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Gojo.”

Later, as you curled into bed, your phone buzzed.

Satoru Gojo started sharing his location with you.

You stared at the notification, baffled. For convenience? For emergencies? Or… something else?
You didn’t reply, but the warmth blooming in your chest made it harder to fall asleep.

Chapter Text

Saturday afternoons weren’t usually Satoru Gojo’s thing. He’d rather sleep in, grab something indulgent to eat, maybe waste hours scrolling on his phone, playing video games or hanging out with Suguru. But somehow, he’d ended up downtown, sunglasses on, wandering aimlessly through the shopping district.

And that’s when he saw you.

At first, he wasn’t even sure he was seeing it right. Gojo pushed his sunglasses up into his hair, rubbed at his eyes, and squinted again.

Yep. It was you.

He froze mid-step.

His assistant… looking like a normal person?

Okay, rude. You were a normal person, obviously. But this version of you- this was something he had never seen before.

No blazer. None of those oversized grandma cardigans or plain skirts you wore like armor at the office.

Instead, you were in a cropped sweater that showed just the faintest sliver of skin, baggy pants, and a trench coat thrown over your shoulders. Even your glasses matched the patchwork on your sweater. Your hair was loose, falling over your shoulders, softer, freer.

He had to admit- he was almost impressed. You looked… good.

There you were, clutching your handbag while you leaned over to sniff candles at a vendor’s stall, nose wrinkling, lips twitching as if you were holding back a smile.

Gojo’s chest tightened. He couldn’t reconcile it- this version of you, warm and unguarded, with the one who shuffled into his office every morning with binders bigger than her torso, lips pressed tight as if every word had to survive three checkpoints before leaving your mouth.

He wanted to go up and say something- anything. For once, he actually felt nervous. His hand twitched against his jacket as he tried to psyche himself up.

And then he saw him.

A man walked up behind you.

You turned, holding out the candle toward him with a grin, laughing at something he said. Scrunching your nose, you teased him and put the candle back down.

Gojo felt his pulse spike, a hot coil of something ugly curling in his stomach. A boyfriend? A friend? …A husband? No, that didn’t track, you didn’t wear a ring, and you’d never mentioned anything like that. Not that you would. Still, his heart thudded so loud it made him dizzy.

He instantly melted back into the crowd. He wasn’t spying, he told himself- just… observing.

And then the guy turned his head.

Gojo’s jaw nearly hit the ground.

Choso. Kamo.

What the actual fuck .

Was his assistant on a date with Choso ?

He should’ve marched up and said something snide, stirred the pot, teased you both until you snapped at him.

Normally, that would’ve been the fun play. But instead, his chest felt too tight, his palms too warm. He just… couldn’t.

Because the sight of you laughing at Choso’s emo one-liners while sniffing candles together was making him want to crawl out of his own skin.

Gross.

And then –oh no– Choso’s hand hovered at your waist. Gojo watched in horror as it finally settled around your shoulders. He gasped so loudly that people actually turned to look at him. He didn’t care.

All he could see was the way your shoulders hunched at the touch, the shy tilt of your head as you smiled at him.

Gojo’s stomach flipped.

Disgusting.

He couldn’t watch another second.

Gojo spun on his heel, nearly clipping some poor old man with his jacket as he shoved his way through the crowd. His pulse hammered in his throat, his mind a mess of curses and half-formed thoughts.

What the hell was that? What the actual hell was that?

Since when did he care who you spent your weekends with? Since when did it matter if you were laughing, smiling, tilting your head just so at someone else?

It shouldn’t.

You were his assistant.

That was it.

Not his type, not his problem, not his business.

Just the person who kept his schedule and corrected his spelling mistakes.

So why did his stomach churn like he’d swallowed glass when Choso Kamo put a hand on your shoulder?

He stuffed his hands deep in his pockets, sunglasses sliding back down over his eyes, jaw tight.

He hated this. Hated the thought of you with someone else. Hated that it was Choso, of all people– brooding, perpetually exhausted, zero sense of humor Choso. What the hell could you possibly find interesting about him?

Gojo scoffed out loud, earning another side-eye from a passerby. He didn’t care. The image was already seared into his brain: your shoulders curling, your soft laugh, the way you leaned in just a little.

He hated it. He hated that it mattered.

And yet, as he walked away from the market, fists curling tighter in his pockets, he knew the truth he didn’t want to say out loud–
Something about you was getting under his skin.

And he couldn’t shake it.

••

Monday started wrong.

The second you walked in with your folders, you felt the shift. Gojo was already at his desk, long legs kicked up, scrolling through his phone with that blank, unreadable face. No grin. No teasing “good morning.” Just silence.

“Uh… the shipment reports you wanted are here,” you said, setting them down gently.

“Ok” he barely looked up. “You can leave now” tossing his phone down with a thud.

You left as quickly as he said that. Your palms sweaty as something in the air told you he was in a bad mood. You got the coffee right too still he wasn’t too happy about it.

The rest of the morning was more of the same. Every time you asked a question, he snapped with some cutting remark. When you reminded him of a call, he muttered “I know, I can read a clock.” Even when you tried a dry joke back at him, hoping to break the ice, he only gave you a pointed look and a flat: “Save the comedy routine for someone else, yeah?”

It wasn’t even 12 yet and you were already drained out. You were going through emails and fixing Gojo’s schedule until your phone rang.

You picked it up, pressing it to your ear.

“Come see for a sec,” Gojo’s voice snapped down the line, low and clipped, before the call ended.

Your stomach twisted. You set the receiver down carefully, grabbed your notepad out of habit, and made your way to his office- mind buzzing with a hundred what ifs .

“Yes, Mr. Gojo?” you said softly, standing in front of his desk.

His gaze was sharp, almost scorching. Without a word, he tossed a stack of papers across the desk, the corners slapping against the wood. “What the hell is this?”

You picked them up gingerly, eyes scanning the top page. “…These are the closing reports-”

“I can see that,” he snapped, voice slicing through yours, “but what the fuck is going on with those numbers? They’re all wrong. Everything is off. Nothing’s precise.”

You flinched at the sudden sharpness in his tone. Glancing down, you saw the messy red circles and scribbled numbers in the margins-his handwriting, harsh and impatient.

“I..I checked it properly-”

“Really?” He leaned back in his chair, tilting his head, the sarcasm cutting.

“This is what you’re doing at your desk? Slacking off when you’re needed the most? Is this what I’m paying you for?”

Your throat tightened. “I’m sorry, I can fix it-”

“Sorry won’t fix anything,” he cut in, voice rising. “Sorry won’t cover the inconvenience you’ve caused. Or the loss the company would’ve taken if this garbage went out.”

You lowered your head, unable to meet his piercing gaze, fingers trembling slightly against the paper.

“Do you even understand how careless this is?” His tone sharpened again. “Are you really that dumb when it comes to basic skills?”

“I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again,” you stuttered, blinking hard to keep your voice steady.

“Get out of my sight and fix it.” His attention had already snapped back to his laptop, fingers flying over the keyboard, mouse clicking between screens. “I marked everything. If I find another error, don’t bother coming back.”

Your heart pounded. You clutched the papers to your chest and hurried out, forcing your legs to carry you back to your desk.

The second you dropped into your chair, sweat prickled at your temples. You shoved the papers down, opened your computer with shaky fingers, and typed furiously-your pulse racing, lungs tight, mind a blur of numbers and panic.

But no matter how hard you tried to focus, Gojo’s words rang in your head, each sharper than the last.

Dumb.
Slacking off.
Garbage work.

You needed air. The way Gojo snapped at you today was not new but was something different, it was jarring. Especially considering how things had been between you two lately— almost like friends, sharing little jokes, easy banter. And then suddenly this… like the switch had flipped back to something colder, crueler.

You weren’t exactly sure what had pissed him off so much today, why he was getting this mad at you, but you didn’t have time to dwell. Your phone lit up with a message.

Choso: Still up for lunch?

You: Yes, of course. I’ll see you at the restaurant in five.

Last week, you had received a text from one of the interns, Yuji Itadori. He’d asked for your help on his new project- something similar to a story you’d worked on during your own internship.

You’d agreed to help, mostly because he seemed earnest and desperate.

He needed to include pictures and some statistics from his research, and asked if you could tag along with him on Sunday. He also mentioned that his older brother would swing by to assist for a bit. What you hadn’t expected, though, was that his older brother was Choso Kamo.

You’d been surprised at first- they looked nothing alike and had completely different personalities. Yet, despite the differences, it was clear they cared about each other deeply. The way they interacted was sweet, teasing and gentle in a way that made you smile without realizing it.

Choso, on the other hand, was not as surprised to see you there but happy nonetheless. He already knew you’d be helping Yuji, thanks to his little brother gushing endlessly about the CEO’s assistant who always seemed to be helping him. Choso didn’t want to miss the chance to finally meet you- without Gojo lurking around.

When he first saw you at that meeting-face scrunched in confusion as you tried to fix a presentation, cheeks red when Gojo teased you for being a little clumsy- he had thought you were undeniably cute. Your flustered, earnest energy had stuck with him, and he’d been keeping an eye out ever since.

So when Yuji introduced you two, Choso couldn’t resist. He asked for your number- you never reached out to him from the business card he gave you a while back- but somewhere in the conversation, you’d mentioned using scented candles to calm your nerves at home.

Naturally, he asked for your help picking some out.

Since yesterday, you’d been texting back and forth, finally agreeing to meet for lunch today- Yuji tagging along, of course.

The restaurant smelled of warm bread and faint spices, a comforting contrast to the storm of emotions swirling inside you. Yuji chattered quietly beside Choso, pointing out statistics and notes for his project, but you barely heard him. Your fork hovered halfway to your mouth, mind replaying the scene from this morning.

“Hey, are you okay? You haven’t touched your food since you got here? What’s wrong?” Choso’s eyes raked over your face as he furrowed his eyebrows gently rubbing your tensed shoulder

“I am okay, its just- its been a rough morning” You smiled weakly

“Yeah? Too much work or..?”

“It was…. Yeah too much work and I don’t know why it’s…” you traced the edge of your plate with your finger not knowing what to tell him

Choso reached over, resting a hand briefly on yours, gentle. “Hey… it’s okay. You’re working so hard, carrying so much responsibility. No wonder it gets to you. How about you eat something first? How will you manage the chaos with no food in your body-That can’t be good right?”

“Of course, I’ll finish my food,” you said, forcing a small smile, though your fingers fiddled with the edge of your plate. “I’m just… worried. I don’t know-” You chuckled nervously, words tripping over themselves, almost sliding into a rambling mess.

Choso’s hand gently touched your arm, his voice calm but firm as he spoke.

You stopped mid-sentence, meeting his steady gaze. Somehow, just hearing your name said like that made you pause, keeping you from tumbling into a spiral.

“You’re overthinking,” he said softly.

“Work is work. I get it. It can be stressful. But you shouldn’t be dragging your work life into your personal life. It’s not good for you. And don’t forget, you work at a company that actually makes access to mental healthcare easier. So… don’t let work stress take over your mental health.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. His words were comforting, grounding, and for a moment, they helped you breathe easier.

You gave a small, tired smile. “Thanks… I just…I will ” You shook your head. The energy he gave you-soft reassurance, a little boost from seeing him care- helped, but it didn’t erase the knot in your chest. It couldn’t explain why a shift in his tone, in his attitude toward you, could unravel you so completely.

You tried,really. You wanted to step inside his office and ask why he was so upset today. You’d seen him in bad moods before, but never like this.

Snapping at you over little things, picking on you for no reason. It was like he was looking for a reaction, like he wanted you to apologize instead.

But you weren’t his babysitter. You were his assistant. He was a grown man who just refused to choose his words wisely.

Still… part of you was bothered that he was bothered.

All the effort he’d put into lowering his walls with you felt like it was about to go down the drain. Both of you were struggling, and words traveled fast around the office. Now everyone was whispering- saying it was only a matter of time before you got fired, or at least put on “temporary leave” until he found someone new.

But that wasn’t the truth. No one knew that the problem wasn’t incompetence. It was that two grown adults didn’t know how to talk to each other. One wanted to ask what was wrong, while the other was busy coping with feelings the wrong way- lashing out instead of opening up.

What you needed was confrontation.
What you had was silence.

“Mr. Gojo, you have a phone call meeting in ten minutes, then the team-building conf-”

“I know. Just send me an email and I’ll take a look.” His eyes never left the computer screen.

You opened your mouth, closed it, then tried again. Before you could get a word out, his gaze cut to you, sharp, impatient. Your shoulders stiffened.

“What? Is there something else? Or are you waiting for an invitation to leave?”

Ouch.

“No, uh… I just… I wanted to tell you something.” You fiddled with the pen in your hand, shoe tapping nervously against the floor.

“Okay. What is it? I don’t have all day.” He leaned forward, arms crossing over his desk as if waiting for you to hurry up.

Your mind went blank. You weren’t his friend, so why did you care? He should be the one apologizing for being an ass. And yet, you had a feeling it was just stress. He’d been carrying too much lately, and you wanted to at least let him know he wasn’t alone.

“If you need anything, please let me know. Or if there’s anything else I can do to help, I’ll be at my desk. Don’t hesitate to call me.” You forced a polite smile and began to turn away.

“Right. That’s why I hired you, isn’t it?” His smile was sharp, poisonous. “Or are you trying to say I’m incapable of doing my job without you? I’m confused- please, enlighten me.”

Heat rushed up your neck. “No, that’s not what I meant, I just-”

“Just Get out of my office. Don’t come back unless I call you.”

You dropped your gaze to your shoes, swallowed hard, and left.

At your desk, you buried your head in your hands. “I’m such a loser,” you muttered, then rubbed at your eyes behind your glasses. “No. I’m not a loser. He’s just being a prick. What a brat.”

You huffed, trying to shake it off, and glanced at the clock. Thirty minutes until the team-building meeting. Your stomach knotted. You just prayed he’d be in a better mood by then- because you weren’t sure you could stand another round of this. You will talk to him, hold him accountable for his actions, but not today.

Not today.

The conference room was buzzing, energy high from the so-called “team building” workshop HR had insisted on. Everyone sat in a loose circle, tossing around ideas during a mock debate exercise.

You weren’t the type to speak up much during these things, but when Reina confidently pitched her view, you found yourself quietly interjecting.

“I think if we went with that strategy, we’d risk overextending the budget. A phased approach would be more sustainable in the long term.”

A few heads turned your way, surprised you’d spoken. Reina smiled thinly. “Well, that sounds safe, but if we move too slowly, competitors will eat us alive. Don’t you think that’s just… overly cautious?”

You tightened your grip on your notebook. “Cautious isn’t always bad. At least it’s precise-“

“That’s rich,” Gojo cut in suddenly, from where he lounged with his arms draped over the chair. His voice was light, but his smirk sharp. “Precise? Coming from you?”

Your stomach dropped. Heat rushed to your face as a couple of people shifted, glancing between you and him.

Gojo chuckled under his breath, tilting his head. “Honestly, I think Reina’s right. Playing it safe just sounds like being lazy in disguise. Isn’t that what you always do?”

The words stung like a slap. Your mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Then someone else- one of the junior analysts- muttered just loud enough for the room to hear, “Yeah, guess that explains all her overtime. Takes three hours to do a one-hour job.”

The table erupted with laughter. Snickers, muffled chuckles, even Reina grinning behind her hand.

Everyone laughed.
Except you.

You stared down at your notebook, the lines of your scribbles blurring as your eyes burned. The room’s laughter rang hollow in your ears, but Gojo didn’t correct them, didn’t stop it. He just leaned back in his chair, lips curved in the faintest smirk, eyes hidden behind the fall of his hair.

And for the rest of the exercise, you didn’t say another word.

The cursor blinked on your screen, mocking you. Line after line of numbers blurred together, and you could barely keep track of what you were even fixing anymore. Your eyes stung, not just from the long hours, but from holding back all the sharp words you’d swallowed down today.

The soft click-clack of heels echoed down the empty hall. You didn’t look up at first, too focused on pretending you were absorbed in your work. But then her voice slid through the quiet like a knife.

“Wow. Still here? You’re usually one if the first to leave” Reina leaned on the side of your cubicle wall, arms folded, lips curved in that polished smile that always dripped more venom than sweetness. “Not surprising, though. Guess someone has to stay behind and fix their own mistakes.”

You froze, fingers tightening on your pen.

Her eyes flicked to your stack of files. “Oh! wait. That’s not even your department, is it?” She tilted her head, smirking. “Figures. Overcompensating, huh? Can’t blame you. After today, I’d be desperate to prove I belong too.”

Your throat felt tight, but you forced your expression to stay neutral, blank, professional.

Don’t let her see.

Don’t let her have that satisfaction.

Reina gave a little laugh, too loud in the quiet office. “Anyway. Don’t stay too late, or you’ll really start looking pathetic.”

And then she was gone, heels clicking away until the sound disappeared entirely.

The silence that followed was deafening. You tried to keep typing, tried to shove the pen across the page, but your hands were shaking too hard. The words blurred again, but not from exhaustion this time.

You pressed your palms to your eyes, but the tears slipped through anyway.

Hot, humiliating, unstoppable.

You ducked your head, shoulders curling in, desperate to keep even the empty office from seeing you unravel.

You hated this.

Hated that she got to walk away smiling, hated that Gojo had humiliated you in front of everyone earlier, hated that you had no one to blame but yourself for still sitting here, cleaning up work that wasn’t yours.

You hated most of all how small you felt in that moment.

So you let yourself cry quietly at your desk, muffling the sound in your sleeve, until the tears ebbed out and all that was left was the hollow throb of anger and shame.

The office was dead quiet. Only the low hum of his computer fan and the faint glow of the city lights bleeding in through the windows kept him company.

Gojo leaned back in his chair, spinning slowly side to side, staring at the ceiling. He hadn’t moved in nearly twenty minutes, the paperwork on his desk abandoned.

He knew he’d been too harsh. Way too harsh.

The image of your face from earlier-

the way you flinched when his voice snapped, the way your shoulders had stiffened in front of the whole team when he cut you down ,replayed over and over in his head, like a bad video on loop.

And the worst part? He couldn’t even tell himself you deserved it.

You didn’t.

So why the hell had he done it?

He rubbed his temple, grimacing. He could come up with excuses- he was stressed, the quarterly reports were a nightmare, Reina had baited the room, something.

But the truth sat heavier: he was lashing out at you for something you didn’t even know he’d seen.

That little moment at the market. You smiling at someone else. You leaning in, laughing in a way he hadn’t realized he was greedy for until he saw it wasn’t for him.

It had clawed at him, raw and ugly, and instead of handling it like a rational adult, he’d… what? Torched you in front of everyone?

Gojo groaned, dragging his palms over his face. “You’re such an idiot,” he muttered to himself, voice muffled behind his hands.

Apologize.

He should apologize.

The word tasted foreign, bitter. Gojo Satoru didn’t apologize—not to board members, not to rivals, not even to his closest friends when he stepped out of line. But the idea of leaving things the way they were? Letting you carry that weight on your own? For some reason, that felt even worse.

His eyes drifted to the faint sliver of light coming from under his office door. Your slumped figure showed faintly through the frosted glass, a hazy outline bent over the desk.You were still out there, typing away, even after everything. Even after he’d shredded you.

Guilt pressed down harder.

He tapped his pen against the desk, restless. He should call you in. He should say something. He should..
Gojo sighed, leaning back again, staring at the ceiling like it held the answer. For the first time in years, he wasn’t sure what the right move was.

And that unsettled him more than anything.

Chapter Text

Office hours were done. The building was quiet, lights dimmed, but Satoru’s office still glowed. Which, of course, meant you were still here.

He’d been staring at his ceiling for– what? Two hours? Maybe more. Wasting time, rehearsing words he wasn’t even sure he could say out loud. An apology. The right kind of apology.

Not because he was looking for forgiveness– hell no, he didn’t deserve that. Not after humiliating you in front of everyone. He deserved a slap across the face, at least. Which, knowing you, would never happen. Unless… maybe.

Still, one thing was clear: he had to apologize.

He had to make sure you knew he appreciated you. More than that. He couldn’t let you sink into the spiral of negativity that he created. He’d been cruel, reckless, stupid. He’d let his staff laugh at you.

And the worst part? He’d called you lazy . You, who worked yourself to the bone, who kept his entire impossible schedule stitched together like fine thread.

Lazy? No. You were anything but.

The truth was, he didn’t even remember how he’d managed before you. Sure, Ijichi had filled the assistant role once upon a time, but it had never been like this. You weren’t just his assistant- you were the one quietly pulling the strings. Keeping his life together. Smoothing the rough edges he never even noticed were there.

And what had he done? Tore it all down in seconds.

He kept telling himself it was stress. That he’d been too wound up, too stretched thin. But deep down he knew. Stress wasn’t the reason.

He’d seen you with Choso. Of all people.

He’d never admit it, never even to himself- but jealousy had twisted in his chest, sour and ugly. And instead of dealing with it like a normal, functioning adult, he lashed out. At you.

The worst part? Some dark, selfish part of him had been satisfied when you sat there, head bowed, shame painted across your features as the others laughed. Not because you deserved it. No, never that- but because for one flicker of a moment, you felt bad. For reasons you shouldn’t.

And that was when it hit him.

He’d  fucked up.

Bad.

Finally forcing himself to move, Gojo shoved his hands in his pockets and left his office, wandering down the hall. He slowed when he reached your desk.

Empty.

His stomach sank.

He rounded the corner, eyes flicking over the space- sticky notes carefully lined up on the cabinets, the tiny plants you kept alive on the windowsill. But your bag was gone. Your coat, too.

You’d left.

Without saying anything.

And damn, if it didn’t sting more than he expected.

Gojo ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath, “I fucked up. Big time.”

He bolted back to his office, grabbing his phone and keys, nearly sprinting to the elevator. His knee bounced, fingers drumming against the wall as he jabbed the button again and again. Like that would make the thing move faster.

By the time he reached the lobby, it was dark. Silent.

Part of him hoped-no, begged- that you’d still be there. That maybe you’d be lingering by the doors, scrolling on your phone, waiting for the bus, train or-Something.
Anything.

But there was nothing. You were gone.

The cold night air slapped his face as he stepped outside, scanning the street like a fool.

Nothing.

He went home carrying guilt so sharp it carved into his ribs. That night, lying in the dark, staring at the ceiling, Satoru Gojo finally admitted to himself something he never wanted to face.

He’d hurt you. Not just anyone- you .

And he hated himself for it.

Because he wasn’t that guy. He never made people feel small. He never treated women with disrespect. He wasn’t cruel.

But for the first time, he had been. To you.

And if he knew anything about you, it was this- he wasn’t going to get off easy. Not this time.

And honestly? He didn’t want to.

That same night, you walked out of the office without a word. No “goodnight,” no “see you tomorrow.”
Just silence.

The files were dumped on Reina’s desk, half-finished, with a bold note written in red- ‘ Need it done by 10 a.m.’ Because you were done.

Done picking up everyone else’s slack. Done being the quiet, accommodating one who always smoothed things over.

They thought you were lazy? Fine.

Let them handle their own work.

Let them see how far they got without you.

From tomorrow onward, you weren’t carrying anyone but yourself.