Experience Tumblr like never before
Starting an internship at the company Satoru’s father owns but you don’t know who he is just yet.
He’s annoying. He always comes back from lunch late, lets his phone ring at his desk (that’s conveniently placed next to yours) past the three ring policy, writes emails with silly and immature sign-offs, cracks jokes during meetings, and somehow, despite always finishing his paperwork late, he never manages to lose his damn job.
You try to mind your own business. But you can’t help but feel him slowly grate at your nerves as he acts so unprofessional and for some weird reason, not one person seems to care.
He seems pretty intrigued with you, too, if matters couldn’t get worse.
“Hey,” he grins. You try to ignore the tilt of his lips in amusement as you just barely fight off rolling your eyes.
“Can I help you with something?” You sigh, “I’m currently in the middle of something that requires my full attention, but maybe we could—”
“You really love your office jargon,” he hums, cutting you off with a wider grin, “so dedicated.”
“Oh, my apologies,” you smile tightly. He seems to straighten a little, some sick, twisted form of excitement rushing through his system at the way he seems to get under your skin. “Allow me to use simpler language for you to understand: go away, I’m busy.”
Someone has to stand up to this prick, you think. He puts in half the effort, and somehow, you’re pretty sure your boss has a soft spot for him. You don’t understand it, and quite frankly, you’ll be damned if a lazy, lackluster man snags a promotion before your hardworking self.
“Oh wow,” he snorts, “breaking your strictly professional streak, are you? You must be really occupied. I guess I’ll borrow your stapler later.”
Gritting your teeth, you give him yet another tight lipped smile before grabbing the stapler off your desk and handing it to him. (A small part of you resists the urge to throw it square at his face. Maybe the image of him on the floor with a bloodied nose would make your day a little easier, but then you’re sure you’d be jobless).
“Here you go,” you say with as much kindness as you can muster. (It’s not a lot). “Please do bring it back when you’re done. Some of us actually complete paper work, so the stapler is a necessity.”
“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head, eyes sparkling with mischief, “don’t worry, I won’t hold your stapler hostage for too long. I wouldn’t want to disrupt the flow of your productivity.”
You watch with wary eyes as he walks back to his desk, stapling some small, tiny note of sorts before walking right back, handing the paper and the stapler to you.
“What’s this?” You raise a brow.
“Some paper work for you to fill out,” he grins, the vagueness of his answer making a vein all but pop in your forehead.
Before you even have a chance to tell him that you most certainly will not be entertaining whatever silly prank he’s playing, he walks right off, sagging into his chair as he does an obnoxious little spin and goes back to typing at his computer. Probably yet another email with a ridiculous ending, you think to yourself.
Against your better judgement, you stare at the note, eyeing the small flap he’s stapled over an index card. You lift it up, quickly scanning over his scribbled writing.
Want to grab coffee during lunch? Check your answer:
▢ yes! ▢ absolutely! ▢ most definitely!
Your eye twitches.
Grabbing a pen, you quickly add a box underneath his (very confident) options, checking it off and writing in neat, pristine handwriting:
▣ not a chance!
You stand, walking over to his desk and ignoring his perked up, excited little smile as you drop the note back on the table and head back to your own desk. A tiny wave of satisfaction weaves through your body when you notice him read over your response and deflate, a small pout forming over his lips.
Regretfully, a small part of you can’t help but acknowledge that he’s actually…kind of cute when his lips are curled like that. But a larger part of you shakes that thought away and cringes internally. It’s a shame his personality ruins the genetic blessings he seems to have been bestowed with.
And you think that’s the end of it—but of course, with someone like Satoru in the office, there’s never the end of anything.
You watch as an email pops up on your screen, opening it only to stare blankly at his name and roll your eyes at the subject line:
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Follow-Up on Submitted Paperwork
Greetings office neighbor,
Thank you for submitting the paperwork. Unfortunately, I couldn’t help but notice that it does not fully align with the outlined guidelines. Could you please provide clarification or revise the submission accordingly?
Thanks a million,
Gojo Satoru :)
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And there he goes again with those obnoxious sign-offs, you think bitterly. Instantly, you’re clicking away at your keyboard as you type back an agitated response. Of course, you really shouldn’t entertain his ridiculous schemes, but something about him gets under your skin enough that you simply can’t help yourself.
You huff in approval at your response as you read it over before hitting send.
Instantly, as if he was waiting, you see his hand reach for his mouse and click on his screen to open your email as his eyes scan over your reply:
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Thank you for reaching out,
Unfortunately, I was unable to fully adhere to the outlined guidelines, as they are not viable in this situation. To address this, I adjusted the submission to align more effectively with a more practical outcome.
Hope that helps!
Your office neighbor :)
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Just when you think he’s given up, he rolls his chair over to your desk, causing a couple of annoyed heads to tilt up and glare at him for the noise before turning their attention back to their work. You pinch your nose as his chair rolls to a stop in front of your desk.
“Yes?” You grit through your teeth.
“Hey, office neighbor,” he hums, “just wanted to clarify your most recent email with you. I’m a bit confused.”
“Which part confused you?” You bat your lashes in faux charm, sarcastically smiling at him as he hums, grabbing a piece of candy from your little bowl of sweets at your desk and helping himself.
Your eye twitches a little at the gesture. Those are for you to enjoy throughout a miserable work day.
“Um…” he trails off as he pretends to think, “I’d say all of it.”
“I see,” you nod slowly, fighting every bone in your body not to snap at him with a colorful choice of words. “Essentially, the options in your original document did not highlight a plausible set of deliverables, so I corrected them for you with a more realistic one. Make sense?”
“Not really,” he sighs dramatically, pretending to scratch his head in confusion. You want nothing more than to grab those snowy locks and slam his face into your paper shredder. “Could you go over it one more time? I’m still lost.”
You’re just about to lose your patience with him when suddenly, the entire office seems to collectively take in a sharp breath, everyone scrambling to look as productive as possible while a tall, older looking man with suspiciously familiar white hair and blue eyes walks through the office. Something in your brain sets off alarm bells, but you can’t quite completely piece it together what it is about him seems so….recognizable.
“Who’s that?” You frown, scrunching your nose in confusion as everyone straightens up.
“That would be the final boss,” he snorts. You roll your eyes at his word choice before blinking and straightening up yourself.
“Oh my god,” you gasp, voice a panicked whisper as you ask, “you mean the owner of this company?”
“Yeah,” he drawls, raising a brow at you in amusement. “Never seen him before?”
“No,” you hiss, “I’m just the intern! Now go back to your desk before he thinks we’re goofing off, I’d like to keep my job, please.”
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he hums.
You send him a nasty glare, just about at your wits end as you whisper-yell, “I am going to throw my stapler right at your—”
“Satoru, I need you in my office,” comes a stern, deep voice, interrupting you as you quickly shut your mouth.
“You got it, old man,” he salutes in mock seriousness. Suddenly, your spine goes rigid and your eyes widen. The man walks off with a firm nod as Satoru stands, giving you an innocent smile.
Suddenly, it dawns on you just why he looked so strikingly familiar.
“Did you just call him old man?” You blink, mouth agape.
“Yup,” he winks, walking backwards as his eyes stay trained on you while he heads for the elevator. “I’ll put in a good word for you when he’s in a better mood at home tonight. I think we can discuss the specifics over coffee during our lunch hour, yeah?”