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[mymessyfandomlibrary]

Not Quite Out of Reach

Featuring; John 'Soap' MacTavish x GN!Reader

Rating; SFW

Other Notes; meet cute, fluff, use of the metric system, my attempt at trying to write a Scottish accent ... may or may not be based off of something I actually did and still do ...

Word Count; 1.1K

Link to Masterlist

There are certain things that you can’t escape in life (the good ol’ saying of death and taxes). Apparently for you that also included climbing up the shelves of the local grocery of the town you decided to visit while traveling in order to get a case of water, seeing that there was a boil water advisory in effect until who knows when. 

So, here you find yourself a good fifteen-ish centimetres up the shelves trying to drag a forty bottle case of water to a lower level. Could you have just asked one of the staff? Yes, but once you set your mind to something it was hard to get you to give up.

This wasn’t how you were planning on spending part of your holiday — rather you wanted to be cuddled up back at the hotel and watching whatever was playing on the local station — but like hell you were about to give up when you were about to have your sweet victory … or massively embarrass yourself. Whichever one came first.

This Just In! Tourist Dies After Doing Parkour To Attain Water! You would not like that to stain your impression on people.

Come on, just five more centimetres to the right anddddd—

“Ye need a spotter there, bonnie?”

The sudden voice makes you freeze and look over your shoulder to find the person who had just walked into something that would make anyone else do a double take. The man though was just standing by the water, his own case hugged under his arm as he gave you a curious look. Bright blue eyes crinkled by the sides in amusement.

… well, fuck.

He waits for you to say something or move from where you’re perched, brow arched.

You clear your throat, more so to recentre your thoughts to the task at hand than to actually clear it. “Thank you, but I’m fine,” you say as you wiggle the case to the edge and transfer it to the next shelf down, low enough to where you could actually maneuver it into your cart without nearly dying in the process.

Clapping your hands together to get any dust off, you jump — more like carefully step — back down to solid ground and pick up the case into your cart. Looking up, you half expect the man to still be there but he’s already walking down the aisle, leaving you alone to bask in the success of your mission.

Me: 1. Water Case/Grocery Employee: 0.

Johnny hadn’t known what to expect when he got home for his annual mandatory holiday, but the water boil had sent him — his mam sent him, he may have been fine boiling water but not her — out to fetch a case.

He was expecting the usual. A mind numbing boredom and restlessness that typically came from being inactive for long periods of time (heaven forbid the man be forced to take a break). 

What he wasn’t expecting was finding someone practically scaling up the shelves to retrieve one of the larger cases by themselves.

The determination (some people would argue stubbornness) was something that he both respected but was intrigued by. Yes, this is something he would also do, but this wasn’t him climbing the shelves like a kid would the monkey bars at a playground.

“Ye need a spotter there, bonnie?” he found himself asking, brow quirked.

The climber — you — looked over their shoulder. Definitely no’ a local. Would’ve recognized their face. And then you went back to your task, a single goal set in your mind. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”

And that was that.

Now, Johnny’s curiosity was more than piqued, but a swift text from his mam found him walking away before he could properly introduce himself. Looking over his shoulder as he was walking away though, he managed to glimpse your victory as you managed to get the case into your cart. Even though he wanted to stick around, he had his own mission to see through, even if it wasn’t as daunting as the one that just played out in the corner of the grocery.

Back at the grocery about a week later you swear that whoever stocks the damned store either has it out for you or hates you. Why else would they place nearly everything you’re looking for beyond your reach? No amount of jumping got you any closer to your quarry, and alas, there were no clear shelves to parkour your way up there this time.

Sighing, you decide to continue pushing your cart down the aisle in defeat and to hopefully find the next item on your list within reaching distance.

You hear footsteps behind you and then someone is tossing the box that had avaided your grasp into your cart. A pair of familiar amused blue eyes met yours.

The guy from last week?

“Ye were lookin’ fer that one, right?” he asked, but you knew from the quirk of his mouth that he had seen you struggling and jumping like a fool.

You slowed down the pushing of your cart, “Yes… thank you.” You were slightly giving him the side eye, even though he had helped you (and offered in the past) didn’t mean you were about to drop your guard, no matter how charming that smile of his was. You were one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The man gives you a bright smile, one that crinkles the corners of his baby blues that had you missing the warmth of clear summer skies. He offers a hand, “Johnny.”

Me: 1. Grocery Employee: 1. Johnny: 1.

You hesitated for a moment before shaking it back and offering your own name in exchange.

You thought it impossible, but by hell his smile brightened even more. Forget a summer day, it’s like looking at the fucking Sun. Like he had gotten his favourite treat and not just a mere fleeting touch and a name.

“Ye need anythin’ else?” he asked. “From high up?”

Usually you wouldn’t except help from others, wanting to do everything by yourself, but even you knew when something was out of your grasp (literally in this case). 

“I don’t want to be a bother—”

“It’s not a bother if I’m asking ye,” he quickly says back, the argument dying in your throat before it could fully come out from your mouth. “So, dae ye need anythin’ else?”

You sigh and point at what else you needed, Johnny getting the items with ease and placing them in your cart. Besides, this would make it go faster and please him at the same time.

While, yes, you were determined and a stubborn one, so was Johnny. And when he saw you climbing the shelves last week he was determined to talk more to this mystery person. Because once he has his sights set on someone, it was very rare for it to waiver. Fortunately — or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it — said someone was you.

[mymessyfandomlibrary]

*stares at this blog*

Back to business

[mymessyfandomlibrary]

Okay then

[mymessyfandomlibrary]

The Hand That Feeds

Featuring; Sevika x AFAB!Reader

Rating; 18+

Other Notes; Mutual pining, strangers to kinda-friends to 'yeah, we fuckin' -> Porn with plot. This was a gift that I wrote for a friend's birthday. I already shared it with them and got good feedback, so, I'm unleashing it to Tumblr.

Content Warnings; Smut, reader is AFAB, if you don't like the nickname 'princess' my condolences. Smut won't be until the second NSFW banner.

Word Count; 3.3K

Link to Masterlist

You have a tradition. 

Every new moon you would sneak out of your aunt’s residence — she was a kind lady and took you in and gave you free reign — and travel across the river into Zaun.

Yet, despite what others may have thought at your regular travels, it wasn’t for thrill seeking or for nefarious activities. Part of it was out of sheer boredom, as Pilotver, while being the city of progress, was also a city of bureaucratic stillness and policy. A dreadful place when you needed a bit of chaos and authenticity.

Which is how you found yourself in The Lanes time and time again. But it wasn’t purely out of sheer boredom and wanderlust that you kept on coming back into the Undercity. 

While many people had their own interests at the forefront — both in Piltover and in Zaun — you mainly came to help; bringing in fresh food. Bread, fresh vegetables and fruit, and cured meats. You used the bit of wealth that you had left from your family to give to others less fortunate. To those that had no one else to turn to. 

You had been doing this long enough that you knew familiar faces and even some names. And tonight was no different in that regard.

You may not be from Zaun, but you have been to The Lanes enough to also recognize people who stuck in the background, watching.

For the past five months, a woman always stayed in the background, leaning outside of The Last Drop. She never approached you, but when your eyes crossed paths, you knew that she had been watching you give food to those that you could.

The past five months when you had come into the city she had only watched, assessing what you were doing. Seeing if it was for some ulterior motive. 

Was the food spoiled? No. 

Was it poisoned or traced with something? Also no. 

As far as she could see and from the information that the people gave her about you, you did this for no other reason than you wanted to. And Sevika knew from when she first saw you that you weren’t from the undercity — there wasn’t the same edge that the people here had, you were sweet.

You were giving food out and this time she approached you. The dim lighting from the flickering neon signs reflected on her metal arm, catching your eye. Giving a little boy enough food for the day — as giving them too much would make them a target for theft — you turned to the newcomer.

She didn’t say anything, just giving you a once over, still assessing you.

“So,” she cocked her chin to the side a bit, talking down at you in a guarded yet curious tone, “how long have you been doing this for, topsider?”

Topsider.

You knew that you didn’t really fit in in The Lanes, but most people didn’t give you any trouble, just giving you a side glance before minding their own business.

A small smile, born out of the expected politeness of Piltover, graced your face. “Years? It’s hard to say.”

Sevika quirked her brow, “Why?”

“Why not,” you answered back.

Sevika’s mouth twitched in both amusement but also annoyed at the answer. Amused because you said it genuinely, as she was expecting a bit of sass and entitlement. Annoyed that you seemingly had no ulterior motives.

“Alright then.” Sevika just stood there for a moment, and you resisted the urge to shuffle as she continued to assess and try to come to a conclusion. Your eyes once again cross paths and she turns back and goes into The Last Drop again, leaving you alone.

Strange.

You were back in The Lanes and the sack of food had been emptied, all of it being handed out.

Ever since the woman with the metal arm had been keeping an eye on you there were fewer people who tried to push you around. It could also be the large visible knife that you kept strapped to your thigh, but having her presence around also kept people with ill intentions away, letting you be able to help the people you needed to and wanted it.

She was at her usual spot, standing by the door of the pub. Watching. 

It has become a part of your routine. You had come to expect her to be there. Even though you didn’t even know her name, she had become a comforting presence in the background, like she was watching your back.

She wasn’t there tonight though.

No one had tried anything, as the knife was good enough deterrence for now, but it felt off without her there.

Placing the empty bag in your personal satchel you took the time to explore The Lanes. This was the original reason why you came into the undercity, but upon seeing how much worse the conditions here were, you sought to try and help where you could. People were just trying to survive and make ends meet.

“There’s a fight–” a guy bumps into you and keeps on walking, talking to his companion.

Around the bend you could hear a commotion, and curiosity got the better of you and you followed the noise.

There was a fight in full bloom, and the woman that you had expected to be silently watching you was in the heart of it. The fight was reaching its end though, both parties looking worse for wear, but the guy she was fighting was way worse off. The thing about having a metal arm is that it does a lot of damage to whoever it hits, and Sevika may have had some of her blood on her, but most of it was from the other guy.

He hit the ground, unconscious, and Sevika crouched down and whispered something in his ear before getting back up and walking away, but not before she saw you in the crowd. She paused for a second before continuing on, walking away from you. She had changed direction, like she was avoiding you. Going against your better judgement, you followed her, going into a dimly lit pub and looking through the sea of faces before you spotted her at the bar, ordering something.

You don’t know her. Why are you doing this? This is a stupid thing to do— 

You sat down next to her and she gave you a sideways glance.

She had a cut on her face and a bloody nose. There was definitely going to be a large bruise on her arm by tomorrow. And despite being just in a fight and looking worse for wear, she was taking a long drink like this was nothing. But it probably is nothing to her.

This was also the closest that you had gotten to her, and despite her being beat up and the shit lighting in the pub, she was a very — pretty isn’t the right word, she was more than that — handsome woman.

“What are you doing,” she asked, slightly turning her head so she could properly look at you.

“You’re hurt,” and I wanted to make sure that you’re okay. But you don’t add that. You two don’t know each other. You aren’t friends. Hell, you don’t even know her name!

Sevika huffs, amused. “You saw the other guy.”

You had. “Still.”

She puts down her drink and fully turns to you, leaning forward a bit. “Listen, sweetheart, I can handle myself.”

Sweetheart. The nickname, while meant to be demeaning, made you … you didn’t know what it did, but you liked it.

She leans back, pays for her drink and leaves the pub, leaving you alone.

Sevika was back to standing guard over you. She had picked it up after hearing the silent murmurs about a topsider frequenting The Lanes.

In the months that she’s been watching — far longer than you had started noticing her — she knew a few things.

You always visited during the nights of the new moon, using the darkness as a cover.

You carried a large knife on your thigh. You never had to use it, since people knew she was keeping watch, but she saw how you would twirl it around when bored — it wasn’t just for show.

You were kind. She may not know your name, but she mentally called you Sweetheart. It seemed fitting.

And a new forth thing: you apparently made it a habit to be in the same places that she frequents when you really ought not to.

The fight had been by accident, but she hadn’t expected you to follow her into a pub. 

Then again when she was making rounds — you had crossed paths with her and you gave her a nod before continuing on.

Once when she was coming out of the brothel that she frequents when pent up — something that was becoming more often as of late. You didn’t say anything, but you did walk past faster than usual, and Sevika felt a tinge of disappointment.

She had come to expect you. As much as she was an expected presence in your routine, you had become one in hers.

Tonight was the new moon, and Sevika was standing where she typically did. Waiting for you.

But you don’t show up.

Some of the regular people ask her where you are, as whenever Sevika is watching guard, you aren’t far behind. But she didn’t know. She didn’t like that she didn’t know where you were. It lingered in the back of her mind the next night.

This time you do show up, and when the last bit of food gets handed out she walks towards you, determined.

“Where were you last night?”

You turn around, not expecting her to really take notice that you were missing last night, but also she noticed. 

“There was a blockade last night. The city is on high alert, so I couldn’t cross last night,” you answer. 

It was true. Due to recent events, Piltover was on high alert. You couldn’t have crossed, not without suspicion or your monthly visits coming to light, so you decided to wait it out.

Sevika runs her tongue across her teeth, trying to think of something to say, but all that she knows is that she’s relieved to see you. She accepts your answer though, giving you a grunt.

You both stand there for a moment, as if waiting to see who would say something first. Who would break the slightly awkward tension. Hell, it was worse than the time you had bumped into her after she came out of a brothel — that was awkward.

You lick your lips, “Did something happen last night? When I was gone?”

No, nothing happened. “No. People just missed you.” I missed you.

Sevika caught the motion of your mouth and she also noted your appearance. She had always thought you were pretty, hell, beautiful, but she never made a move. Why, though? 

She was a cautious woman, especially with those she let close. “Be careful, sweetheart.”

There’s that name again. This time you felt something warm in your chest, but she had already walked away.

You had finally learned your mystery woman’s name. Sevika. It had been several months — a year to be exact, but like you were keeping track of every time you saw her (you were) — and you finally knew her name from asking one of the bartenders at The Last Drop.

You were standing in her usual spot. You were early, the sun just starting to set, and Sevika was not expecting for you to be waiting for her.

“We need to talk,” you said, getting up from where you were leaning.

Sevika crossed her arms, not expecting the bold move. “About what?”

You walked over to a more private area, a back alley, “You keep watch over me. You have been for a while. Why?”

Ah, you finally asked the question that Sevika had been asking herself. Now, she could be honest about it — which would shed light that she had taken an interest from the rumours and then taken an actual interest in you — or she could keep it simple. Uncomplicated. 

And then she remembers your answer to her question all those months back when you had first talked. “Why not?”

You pause, looking at her. You hadn’t expected that answer. You hadn’t expected her to be giving you an intense longing look that screamed more than just wanting to talk. 

Fuck it.

You stepped forward and did something that you’ve wanted to do for months, placing your mouth onto hers.

And Sevika’s mouth slotted against yours, reciprocating the kiss you initiated. Once given the permission, she threw caution to the wind, finally doing what she had also been wanting. The reason why she was so pent up. You. 

She ran her tongue across your lip, asking for silent permission to enter your mouth and once you did, your tongues moved against each other and she groaned into the heated kiss before breaking away. Her eyes were simmering with want, and like hell she was going to continue what you started in a dank alley.

“Didn’t know you felt that way, sweetheart,” she huffed, breath hot against your ear, making the hair on the back of neck prickle in a pleasant way.

You groaned when she pulled back. You had finally started to get what you wanted only for her to pull away. “And you feel the same way.”

It wasn’t a question. You knew. It was damn telling the way that she took over and led the kiss that she wanted you the same way you wanted her.

Sevika hums at your answer, her hand playing with the ends of your hair gently, “Do I?” 

She usually wasn’t a tease, but she enjoyed seeing your reactions, wanting to hear you say the words. “What do you want, sweetheart?” She asked, nearly purring.

This woman will be the death of me.

You place yourself to where one of her legs was in between yours, “You.”

Sevika ground her leg into your core, sending some much needed friction to where you wanted her. “You’ll have to wait for a minute, princess.”

Like hell she was going to ravish you here, so picking you up, she went to a better place, using one of the back doors to get into one of the private rooms of the pub where no one would intrude — thankfully this one had a bed. 

Once the door is locked, you’re both back to being on each other. Hot mouths clashing. And then the back of your knees were hitting the mattress.

You sat down, bringing Sevika with you, and she began kissing down your neck, leaving you wanting more. 

A thought came into her mind, and she left a rather sharp nip on the space between your neck and shoulder, her thigh slipping between yours and flipping your positions to where you straddled her thigh. “Ride it, sweetheart.” 

The timbre of her voice made you shudder and a pool of heat to form again at your core. You began to grind yourself against her thigh, annoyed that you were both clothed but wanting some sort of release. “Clothes,” you mutter, trying to control how desperate you were for her, “off.”

Sevika chuckled, amused, but obliged, taking off both of your clothes — again, leaving hot kisses on your shoulder. Once her damned pants were off, you began grinding on her again, and she could feel how wet you were and she grinned.

She could tell that you wouldn’t be able to get off just with that, but you were putting on a good show for her. “You’re doing so good, baby. You feel so wet. Fuck.” She groaned, popping one of your nipples in her mouth, and rolling the other in her mouth.

You keen, arching into her touch, wanting more. While the friction from her muscular thigh was delicious you needed more. “Sev, I –” you slightly push her head down, silently asking for her to go down on you.

Sevika put her hands on your hips and dragged you up towards her mouth, “I know.” And she placed a kiss to your inner thigh before tracing your cunt with her tongue, taking your clit into her mouth.

“Fuck,” you moan, finally getting the friction you so badly wanted. Your hands tangling in her hair for something to hold on and she groaned, the vibrations just adding to your pleasure.

Slowly, Sevika added a finger into your cunt, probing until you arched when she found your g-spot. She could tell that you weren’t sitting so she nipped your clit when she felt you hovering, “Sit.”

Once you put your full weight on her face she hummed, satisfied, and added another finger to reward you, putting extra pressure there. 

With her fingers going in and out of your cunt and her tongue tracing your clit, you were reaching your climax, feeling your thighs clench up when Sevika removes her fingers and slows down on your clit, delaying it.

“W-why did you stop?”

Sevika hummed, taking the fingers that were once in you into her mouth, cleaning them off. “I didn’t.” And she moved you higher up so that her tongue was now in you and her nose ground into your clit.

She loved seeing you like this, fucked out on her fingers and her tongue, and if her tongue wasn’t doing the most mouthwatering movements in you, she would be telling you how gorgeous you were. Praising you and your body — mind you, she fell for you for how you treated others first. 

You grabbed for her hand, the one that was just in you a moment ago and placed it on your neck, and Sevika carefully squeezed, choking you in the right way. “You’re doing so good, princess.”

You were reaching your high again, and Sevika was not slowing down, if anything, feeling the way that your thighs tensed on her face made her push forward. The slight pressure on my airway made you melt in her hands, and did a particularly mean nip to your clit before continuing eating you out. You were sweating by now, and moaning into her touch.

“Are you going to cum for me, baby?” She groaned, and added a bit of pressure to your lower stomach, her tongue going in deep. 

Tugging a bit more harshly at her scalp you felt your breathing hitch, your eyes roll back, and you shuddered as your high finally came.

Sevika didn’t ease up, instead taking the hand that was on your neck back down to your cunt, adding three fingers inside you this time as her tongue continued on your clit. That move during your climax and the stretch alongside the pressure on your lower stomach had you seeing white and Sevika groaned as she felt you release.

You whined a bit as Sevika slowed down her movements, sensitive from your climax, working you down from it. 

Giving your inner thigh a kiss, she laid you down next to her on the bed, before getting up and grabbing a warm damp cloth to clean you up with, even though your release was still on her face. She licked it off of her lips and dragged some down from her cheeks to her mouth before using the same cloth to clean her face and thigh, laying back down next to you.

She placed a hand on your face, tracing the planes of it.

You snaked your hand downward, but Sevika stopped you, bringing your hand back up, “You don’t worry about that.”

“I want to make you feel good,” you breathed, annoyed that she had stopped your wandering hands.

Sevika traced her tongue over her lip, looking at you, “You did.”

Oh. Even though she had literally just eaten you out within an inch of your life, hearing her say that she was satisfied just by giving you pleasure made you clench your thighs. 

That movement didn’t go unnoticed, “Mmm, you’re still sensitive, sweetheart.” Her hand travelled down your body, promising another round once you weren’t so sensitive, although she wouldn’t mind seeing you cry from it.

[mymessyfandomlibrary]

Salt & Sugar

Featuring; Gojo Satoru x GN!Barista! Reader

Rating; SFW

Other Notes; this was prompted after I thought of some dialogue and went, 'Yeah, that fits for Satoru.' I may build on this in the future.

Word Count; 540 (it's short)

Link to Masterlist

You were supposed to have the day off, but a coworker called in sick, and you were short on funds anyway so you jumped at the chance even though you could be spending today doing fun and very important things (aka doing absolutely nothing). And the day so far had gone well, you even got to catch up with a few regulars — nothing more than idle small talk, still pleasant conversation though.

Your break was coming up, only five more minutes before you could sit down in the back, scarf back some pastries and chug a scorching cup of coffee. Just five more minutes.

The telltale ring of the door opening alerted you that someone had walked in, and you paused your changing of the coffee pots to side eye the newcomer.

Literally a newcomer, at least you had never seen the guy before, because it was really hard to miss him.

You walked back behind the cash, and waited as the stranger looked over the menu. Or, well, you assumed he looked at the menu since his eyes were covered by large sunglasses.

“One coffee and a dozen mochi,” the stranger — customer — stated.

No please. You internally noted, already getting a read on the guy. Annoying.

“Name? Sugar–” you started asking, but you weren’t able to finish before the guy gave you a large grin.

“We’ve only just met, but yes?”

You stood in silence for a brief moment, your customer service smile still on your face but you could sense an eye twitch wanting to ruin your facade. “Sugar, milk, cream,” you calmly listed, “do you want any in your coffee?”

The man didn’t look any different after you clarified your statement, still looking smug. “Sugar and cream,” he responded, thinking a bit. “Make it out to ‘Sugar’ though.”

“ … alright then,” you said in your ‘clearly done but I value my job’ customer service voice and smile.

Looking at the clock, you cursed the slow moving thing, since you still had four minutes of dealing with this guy. Instead of dwelling on it though, you picked and boxed the mochi and made his coffee, adding some extra satchels of sugar and cups of cream since he never stated how many he wanted, before writing in your smallest writing where it was nearly illegible Sugar.

“Coffee with sugar and cream. Dozen mochi,” you dryly stated, not reading out the name since he was the only customer in line.

He ignored you.

You cleared your throat, letting your annoyance be known. “Coffee with sugar and cream. Dozen mochi for Sugar,” you laced the Sugar with distaste.

He took his sweet time walking over, even though he could have gotten there faster with his long legs — why did he have to be tall on top of choosing to be a little shit?

Instead of saying anything to further irritate you though, he took his drink and sweets, paid for his order, and left without another word. If you were paying attention to him and not eyeballing the clock to see that your break was now — thank goodness — you would have seen the small smile he wore and the generous tip he left.

'For Salt.'

That could wait for later though.

[mymessyfandomlibrary]

*disappears for a few days due to irl responsibilities and such*

*comes back and checks notes*

*is happy that people are enjoying my writing*

[mymessyfandomlibrary]

As the Evidence Shows

Featuring; Higuruma Hiromi x GN!Prosecutor! Reader

Rating; SFW

Other Notes; fluff, back at it again with mutual pining cuz that's the good shit, friends to lovers

Word Count; 3.9K

Link to Masterlist

If there was one thing that you hated, it would be losing.

A competitive spark, headstrong as a mule, and never backing down even when your back is to a corner. But that’s good. If you weren’t all that, your job would have chewed you up and spat you out at the very beginning if your classmates in university hadn’t already tried as much. 

And for most of your time sitting and presenting in front of the judge and the court, you found it becoming less and less of a challenge. Typically, undeniable evidence sealed the deal, and the jury would deliberate for a few hours before coming back with either a not guilty or guilty verdict.

Yes, the opposition would try to get under your skin — as what was to be expected — you never took much mind. They were holding their end of their deal with their client, as much as you were holding up yours. To be fair though, they and their client had much to lose; status, reputation, money, and their freedom for the criminal cases, those were always the most high stakes.

That’s what brought you to court today, after setting the court dates and getting all of the necessary paperwork (and several all nighters overviewing everything) it was finally the first day of many.

You had reviewed every single detail of the case, and made yourself acquainted with your opposition for this case.

Higuruma Hiromi. 

You knew that this case wouldn’t be easy. You knew that it would be a verbal tooth and nail fight. On the outside you remained stoic, but on the inside you felt like a boxer prepping for the biggest match of the year. 

Did you feel nervous? Not really. You don’t doubt your abilities.

Excited though? Yeah, you could say that.

“Excited over punishment?” People would ask when they found out you were a prosecutor. ‘Shark’ would play through your mind, ‘lawyers are nothing but sharks.’ And it always leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

“Innocent until proven guilty beyond a responsible doubt,” you would retort.

You didn’t get excited about punishment, or ‘karma’, or anything like that.

You got excited about a challenge. At this push and pull as the defence and prosecution made their arguments. Calling up witnessings. Cross examining evidence. Pointing out weaknesses in what the other is saying. Trying to make the other tick until the judge would reprimand the other. Butting heads until the jury came back with a final decision. Only relenting when the verdict is spoken, albeit with a bruised ego.

You made eye contact as you were giving your opening statement, and you could tell that Higuruma was analysing you, trying to stay one step ahead.

Most of the day went like this, of course with a myriad of ‘objection, your honour’ thrown in there.

Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. 

It went on like this for hours before a recess was called. And you could tell that the judge wanted to rub at their temples from how both you and Higuruma were presenting and objecting to your cases.

Cracking your knuckles and your neck, you took a breath of somewhat fresh air in the hallway, looking at your watch before looking back up and sighing.

The amount of evidence, witnesses, and the nature of the case would make this drag on for some time. If this was a case of a different nature, and a different defence lawyer, you would have mentally groaned at the potential weeks if not months of court dates fighting a predictable but easy uphill battle. But now, this ‘rock’ of yours was proving to be much more difficult than usual.

“So,” a voice that you were growing familiar to spoke quietly behind you, “are you planning to object to everything I say?”

Higuruma was standing behind you, sporting a cup of what smelled to be very strong black coffee and a somewhat amused expression on his face.

You took a drink from the water bottle you were holding, pretending to think to see if it would eat at his resolve. “No, not everything,” you answer, raising a brow. “Just doing my job.”

He huffed out of his nose. “By making mine more difficult,” he retorted.

“Would you expect anything else,” you challenge.

He looked at you, analysing again before taking a long drag from his paper cup, “No.”

He didn’t say anything else, instead he continued to nurse his coffee and wait. Waiting for either for court to be back in session or for you to tick at the presumed awkward silence.

Today it would be the former as the court went back from recess and the chess match continued. 

It continued like this for the duration of the trial.

Higuruma and you would make your arguments, a few attempts at trying to win over the jury — to which both of you would object, making the judge choose to sustain or overrule or pull out their hair — but mainly just providing the evidence to prove the accused innocence or guilt.

Today was the last day. Countless hours of hard work would prove out today, for the both of you.

The last recess was called, and you found yourself back in the hallway, again with Higuruma coming up beside you but without his typical black coffee in hand.

“You put up a hell of a fight,” you break the silence, looking at him through the corner of your eye.

Higuruma looked at you the same, just out of the corner of his eye, making contact. “Just doing my job,” he says back, a slight smile trying to fight its way onto his face.

You nearly snort, going back to your first actual conversation with the man outside of the courtroom. “… by making mine more difficult, right,” you fire back.

Something flashes in his eyes; amusement? Mischief? You didn’t know, but something flashed in those typically dark and guarded eyes.

“Would you expect anything else?”

At that you are the first to chuckle. “No.”

A smile made its appearance on his face, the first one you had seen this entire time. But soon you both found yourselves back in the courtroom, waiting for the jury to come back with their verdict, which was going to … well, it was going to take a while.

But you were both patient. Both you and Higuruma had made your cases, hell, this was probably one of the best cases in your career, and now, you waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally, after nearly six or seven hours, the jury came out from deliberating, the foreperson coming up to the stand.

“We the jury find the defendant,” they said, both you and Higuruma waited for the answer with baited breath, “not guilty.”

You never thought yourself to be overconfident in your abilities, but you couldn’t lie that those words didn’t feel like a slap to the face over the work you had put in. Arguably though, something stranger brewed in your gut other than a bruised ego — pride.

You were proud of Higuruma, which you found odd but also not really. He also put in just as much, if not more, work as you did, and stood by his client.

You waited until he was done speaking to his client to approach him, trying to come up with something to say. “You beat me, fair and square.” Was way too… well, it didn’t feel right to say after all this time.

“Congratulations,” you offered instead, extending your hand to shake his. I may be a loser, but I’m not a sore one.

Higuruma looked at your hand for a moment before encapsulating it with his own, “… thanks.” 

Your hands stayed like that for a moment before he drew his back, and you noted that his hands were cold. Maybe the piping hot coffee also served to keep them warm? You internally mused.

You both stood there for a moment, both debating on what to say.

“So-”

“You-”

You said at the same time, interrupting each other before both falling quiet, waiting.

He cleared his throat, “You go first.”

“So,” you pondered for the right thing to say. You sure as hell didn’t want to just part ways and never speak to him again. Higuruma tickles a part of your brain that had laid dormant for too long. He provided a challenge. A new perspective. Plus he did outwit you in court, and you wanted to learn how he did that. “Coffee on me?”

Higuruma looked at you for a moment, brows furrowed, thinking. “Sure,” he said, “and also, you put up a hell of a fight.”

“Can’t make your job too easy, can I,” you muster back.

He just shakes his head. “Can’t expect anything else.”

You both stand there, in content quiet.

“Does the cafe down the street suffice,” you ask.

“I think we’ll get some odd looks due to the hour, but it works.”

That much was true, as the sun was kissing the horizon line, but you disregarded that.

“Alright then,” you pretend to sigh in defeat, joking, “follow me.”

Higuruma does indeed wait for you to take the lead, and you wait a second before doing so, waiting to see if he would follow. And even though he did say that was good with a late-ish cafe trip, you were still pleasantly surprised that he was following you, just a step behind.

The short walk over was quiet, both of you undoubtedly tired from your respective work loads, but also comfortable enough as to not make any meaningless idle chatter.

Once at the cafe — a cute pastel and lace themed one that looked like it belonged in a children’s bedtime story rather than the real world — you and Higuruma got seated in a booth. Mentally you knew that the sight of two suit clad people with probable dark circles sitting in a baby blue booth with lace frills and such was a comedic sight, but you didn’t care.

“Let me guess,” you drum your fingers over the table, “black coffee strong enough to kill a horse?”

Higuruma cocked a brow and looked at you, “Am I that predictable?” And he feigned interest at the menu, looking over the photos. “I don’t strike you as the brown sugar latte type?”

You hummed, “Well, you were sporting one every day in court, so I assumed as such. Guilty, I guess.”

Now it was his turn to hum. “Should have guessed you would have made notes, you seem to note little details.”

And you both searched through the menu until an employee came up to take your orders.

Black coffee and a double chocolate muffin for Higuruma. Lemon chamomile tea and an apple danish for you.

“No water?” He asked, looking over the brim of his cup.

“It’s late and I want to go to bed as soon as I get home, so, tea,” you quip back.

He shrugged, putting down his scorching hot beverage.

It was quiet again, and if this was you several years back, you would have felt the need to mindlessly fill the silence with fillers, but you knew this was comfortable. Plus, the both of you have been going back and forth in court. Yes, this was different, but it still allowed you to get a bit of a sense of what Higuruma was about. Sort of.

“Higuruma,” you started, stirring sugar into your ‘sleepy time tea’, “I would like to be friends.”

I would like to be friends? Why does that sound so … lame? UGH!

He looked at you, analysing yet again. “Defence and a prosecutor, friends,” he said in a mockingly joking tone, pretending to think about it. “I thought we already were.”

You held his eye contact for a moment before offering a lopsided grin, holding your drink out to toast. “To new friendships and to me getting my ass handed to.”

He chuckled, “To new friendships and to you getting your ass handed to… courtesy of me.”

You rolled your eyes but toasted to it anyways, a warm feeling brewing in your stomach — it was most likely tea, but you decided that for now, it was better to leave it alone until another day.

Higuruma was beside himself, mentally pacing back and forth as he revised all of the evidence in his head, trying to connect the imaginary red string to see where things started to feel different.

Not with you, you had always been the same, still as much as a spitfire as usual, but where the shift in his feelings had started.

It wasn’t during the trial, as he didn’t know you very well. He did think you to be competent and sharp, and funny in a dry wit sort of way. And while it was endearing to see you in that pastel cafe with your ‘sleepy time grandparent tea’ he doesn’t think it was then.

There was no concrete point where he could pinpoint when platonic morphed into this strange being that lived in the recesses of his brain that wanted more than merely platonic bonds between the two of you. It was strange. It was … annoying. It was annoying because Hiromi finally found someone that he could be himself around and his brain decided ‘hey, you know what could ruin this?’ and now he’s standing at his kitchen counter at quarter past two in the morning trying to figure out why and when.

But there was no defining thing or time, which was irksome. No aha! Moment, just a seamless blend that left him wanting for more yet feeling guilty for wanting more. A double edged sword.

The harsh blue light of his phone illuminated the darkness, his finger hovering over your number, debating whether or not to hit the green call button at this late hour. Instead of pressing it — it’s late, they’re sleeping — he opened up his messenger, fingers yet again hovering over the keyboard, trying to think of something to say, but coming up with nothing.

Sighing in frustration he closed his phone, choosing instead to look out the window, trying to figure something out.

Cliche. I’m a damn cliche.

Falling for ‘the enemy’ alone is bad, but also your friend? Hiromi debated about either starting his coffee pot or picking up a shot glass full of bourbon to take away the edge.

He decided against it though, instead choosing to lay his forehead on the cool glass of the window, hoping the chill would clear his head and level his thoughts. All it left though was cold skin, unanswered questions, and a smudge on the glass that he would need to clean up come morning.

Opening up his phone again, he stared at your contact name and photo, something the both of you had done after hanging out for the third time. The photo was the one from your LinkedIn profile, but with neon cat ears and whiskers — yes, he looked at your LinkedIn. And you had set your name in his phone as just your name.

It wasn’t anything special.

To be fair, Hiromi had just put his name into your phone, and let you decide what photo to use for it, which resulted in you taking a blurry photo of him in yet another themed cafe.

It isn’t anything special. 

He closed his phone again, raking his hands through his hair and started to walk back to his bed. He knew that he wouldn’t be getting a lick of sleep tonight, but like hell was he going to wake you up at this hour just because he was feeling conflicted about your relationship, that he had broken the universal rule of ‘don’t fall in love with your friend’.

“You look like shit, Hiro,” you mused, assessing the man’s pronounced dark circles. “Work life balance is key, so don’t be working yourself to death. I’ll haunt you if you do.”

Hiromi sighed, and rolled his eyes. “If I’m dead then how would you, a live person, haunt me,” he shot back. 

You made a face, but went back to picking at the pastry you had ordered, “I would find a way. Can’t let you get off the hook too easily now.”

There it was again, that part of his brain that wanted to say something. “I’ve been hooked for a long time now.” But he sipped his too sweet drink instead, trying something new. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said instead, “you’re too stubborn.”

“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement, choosing to analyse him like he did to you at the very beginning.

Dark under eye circles from probable lack of sleep, but you knew that those were typical for him. His hair wasn’t as styled like it typically was, again, that could be chalked up to a lack of sleep. But there was something else going on. Hiromi felt … troubled.

Now, it could be a case he’s working on — the two of you don’t mix business with the friendship that had formed, afterall, you both knew about confidentiality and its ramifications — but those typically didn’t get under his skin. Whatever was bothering him was far more complex and was at ends with the man’s morals and values.

“Something is wrong,” you place your fork down, resting your head in your crossed hands, “spill, Hiromi.”

Hiromi paused. You had taken to calling him Hiro ever since the two of you went to karaoke several months back. You only call him Hiromi when you’re serious. Higuruma when you were mad, which thankfully hadn’t happened save for when you had to almost carry him home when he had too many drinks.

Lie.

“Lost some sleep to a wandering brain,” he said, carefully watching his words.

You purse your lips, an obvious I call bullshit expression clear on your face, waiting for a better answer.

… a bit of the truth is fine, just make sure it’s not obvious.

So, he steadied himself, making sure that he didn’t blow his cover. “A coworker, you know Jun, decided to unload his love life on me late last night,” he sighed, carefully judging your reaction.

You raised a brow, “Do I want to know about it?”

“No, not really. It’s boring. Just conflicting feelings that he has for a friend and he doesn’t want to fuck it up.” Hiromi took a sip of the too sweet drink again, regretting that he had let you choose his drink today and you had decided to see if he would drink the neon pink thing with whip cream and sprinkles.

You winced, and shook your head. “Poor bastard,” you sipped your own drink, mentally noting that Hiromi had ordered you your regular even though you had decided to be an imp and order something off his usual brand. “What did you tell him?”

What did I tell him? “That he shouldn’t risk his friendship.”

“Seriously?” You deadpanned, groaning. “I mean, fair, but do they have good chemistry? Trust? Do they reciprocate?”

Hiromi considered what you said and applied those questions to your friendship.

Do they have good chemistry? He would say yes, afterall, why would you both still hang out after parting ways from the courtroom? Talking to you was easy.

Trust? You’ve both seen each other running on miniscule amounts of sleep. You’ve seen each other sing your hearts out at karaoke. You’ve seen him in some of his most vulnerable in the past year of knowing each other and becoming friends.

Do they reciprocate?

He couldn’t answer that one. That wasn’t his question to answer. It was your’s. 

“I don’t know if they reciprocate,” he answered carefully, not wanting his internal monologue to slip through the cracks.

You nodded, going back to picking at your food. “Well, tell Jun that the only way to figure that one out is to ask them.”

Obviously you were right again.

“He doesn’t want to ruin–”

“He doesn’t know if it will ruin anything.”

Hiromi fell silent, knowing it was true, but today wasn’t the day to confide that Jun didn’t have relationship woes. He did.

You didn’t push, as both of you weren’t the type to fill awkward silence with even more awkward needless idle chatter. Instead you were trying to quell down the two parts of your brain that were duking it out.

One part wanted, and had for a while, to cradle Hiromi’s head in its hand and press their foreheads together before kissing him senseless — something that made you stare up at your ceiling late at night. And the other was wanting to keep the status quo, to continue business just as usual.

Your alarm went off, and you groaned.

“Work?” He asked, smirking a bit at your reaction; you never protested when you were called to the office.

You got up and stretched your limbs, “Yeah. Rain check for another day?”

Hiromi nodded, which you took as an answer before getting your belongings together before making your way to the office.

But that left him alone at your booth, nursing both the sweet drink but also his own conflicting feelings.

You got home that night, utterly spent and wanting nothing more than to crawl underneath the covers and pass out. Unfortunately, your brain decided that no, things would not be that easy. Things were never that easy.

You taped your fingers on your phone case, before deciding to call Hiromi.

The phone hadn’t even finished its first ring before he picked up the phone and answered. “Something’s wrong,” it wasn’t a question. He knew that you wouldn’t call at this hour if something wasn’t wrong. 

“Hello to you too,” you sighed, trying to dismiss that yes, something was wrong. “Can’t I just call because I miss you?”

That much was true. You missed him. 

And Hiromi sucked at his teeth, his mind storing that phrase away even though he knew that he shouldn’t. “You can,” he said quietly, “I doubt that was the only reason though.”

You strode over to your sofa, plopping down as you debated what to say. “You got me thinking over what you said at the cafe earlier, about Jun.”

“Ah,” Hiromi was tapping his foot. The late hour and the fear that his charade was up was getting the better of him. “What did you think of?”

You swallowed. Where was the usual courage? The typical smartass? Where did my fire go? “Well,” you dragged a hand across your face, “I think it would be unwise to not at least ask how the other person feels.”

Hiromi was quiet. That was something that he dreaded to ask, but he also knew that you wouldn’t just shout ‘Objection!’ like you had in court.

“How do you feel?” About me? He said quietly.

The two creatures in your head stopped their quarrelling, the doubtful one giving the hopeful one a look of defeat. Your fate was sealed. 

You licked your lips, your mouth dry. “Do you want an honest answer?”

It’s now or never. “Yes.”

You sat up, and placed your phone on the table, the blurry photo you took of Hiromi several months back staring back at you with an amused expression. “I feel like … I can’t imagine my life without you,” you say.

Hiromi paused, “Nor can I imagine mine without you.”

This wasn’t some sort of Hallmark movie where the two love interests ran to each other to kiss, no. You were both in your homes, navigating how things would play out. But you both knew that there would be no getting rid of each other.

You both hated losing. You both were stubborn. You both cared and respected each other. 

“Lucky for you, I’m not going anywhere,” you say back.

Hiromi smiled, chuckling a bit, knowing you very well, “I wouldn’t doubt you, not in the slightest.”

[mymessyfandomlibrary]

Not in the Routine

Featuring; Nanami Kento x GN!Coworker! Reader

Rating; SFW (no content warnings)

Other Notes; fluff, strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, mutual pining, Gojo shows up once to pester Nanami, there are two coworkers that I needed to give names, but I hope you also enjoy them

Word Count; 4.5K

Link to Masterlist

Stability was something that you always had craved, like a moth to flame.

Safe choices. Predictable. Mundane. 

That’s something that drew you to white collar work — a financial accountant for your current company. It was predictable. You had the same routine every day.

Had the same routine. But now that routine, one that you had for slightly over two years now, was thrown into disarray by the company being bought out and merged with its competitor. 

At least you were allowed to transfer and still had your job. But still, you had your routine. You had your desk setup just how you liked, plus you got the lucky straw at your former office by having a window nearby. Now though, you were in an office full of strangers — and while, yes, you hadn’t formed many deep friendships at your old work place, you knew their faces — unfamiliar faces glancing at you from out of their peripheral vision. 

There were few open desks, none with a window seat, and even fewer where there both sides were unoccupied. 

Your eyes scanned the room, looking for a seat that didn’t feel as nearly claustrophobic. Unfortunately, that only left you with one option.

Placing your paperwork and few belongings on the desk, you lowkey dread the expected small talk from your new neighbour, but the blond man beside you didn’t even look up from his work. 

As you sat down, you looked out of the corner of your eye to see if he would notice and acknowledge you, to which he didn’t. He definitely knew someone had decided to occupy the once vacant desk next to him, but Nanami K. (courtesy of the miniscule name plate on his desk) decided to continue on.

You paid no mind to it though and silently breathed a sigh of relief. There was no ‘Nice weather we’re having?’ or anything of the sort. And while, yes, you could feel that there was some sort of tension, it wasn’t consumingly awkward, more so that he now had someone closer to his personal space. You wheeled your chair a tad to the left, giving him a few more centimetres of space.

Loosening your wrists, you got to work organising the documents you were given to work on, and placed your miniscule box of allowed personal items into the built-in storage compartment of the desk. 

Most of it was the usual, but there was a fair amount of it. By your estimates, this ‘test run’ of assessing your abilities would take about a week. So, opening a spreadsheet, you started working away.

Why financial accounting? Some of the people in your graduating class of high school had asked you. Boring! Others had said. But you knew then that there would be some sort of demand for that sort of job, despite the rise of technology that can help in that sector. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t exciting. But it provided. It allows you to separate your professional and personal life.

You had just about finished the first page of the paperwork when the man beside you got up. He hadn’t moved much since you had sat down earlier that morning where you almost forgot that he was even there.

Looking at the clock, you blinked in realisation.

It was lunch time, right on the dot.

You cleared your throat, the expected introduction making its way up through your vocal chords, the memorized monologue a bit rusty. But before you could even say ‘Hello’, your desk neighbour was already walking towards the door, leaving you sitting alone and blinking in mild surprise.

Okay then I guess.

Neverminding him, you stretched out your joints and limbs, the satisfying pop pop pop and burn never got old. Your stomach also growled in protest. Despite changing companies, your lunch was still at the same time, which you were grateful for. 

Grabbing your water bottle and lunch bag you made your way to the lunchroom, recalling what your supervisor had said. Third door on the left side of the hall walking out of the office space. 

Taking a steadying breath, you opened the door. Surprisingly there weren’t many others there, something else you were grateful for. You could handle about ten people in the space but not thirty or more. But it also made sense, people probably went out to one of the various restaurants and bakeries that you saw on your way in for lunch. But you also saw your desk neighbour, sitting at a table nursing a cup of coffee and keeping to himself.

Ah, so it wasn’t just a me thing… the guy is probably just introverted. You mentally noted, eyes going around the room to find a spot to sit. Nothing personal.

A man and a woman patted at a spot at their table as a quiet invitation, and you strided on over, glad that you didn’t have to stand in the same spot like a fool as you tried to calculate what was deemed as a decent spot.

“So,” the woman said, taking a break from sipping at her drink, “new hire?”

You expected this. “Transfer,” you answered, opening up and laying out your lunch. 

She nodded her head before slipping the man next to her some coins. “Damn, lost the bet,” she sighed with a slight laugh.

“I told you,” the man breathed out, pocketing the change into his suit before turning to you. They were both expecting an introduction.

You finally put your practised introduction to use, and your lunch mates nodded.

“Well, I for one hope they keep you,” the man stated — Iwai Hideo —, “I hate crunching numbers. Stuff is tedious and mind numbing.”

The woman — Fukuzawa Chie — elbowed him, not so subtly trying to make him stop talking. “What he actually means is-”

You huffed out a quiet laugh, “It’s fine. I don’t mind doing the … tedious work.” I also hope they keep me. “And seeing the work get done is satisfying in a way.”

“Alright then,” Chie sighed in relief, but still gave Hideo a nasty look. 

The rest of lunch was spent in an easy silence, no one feeling like it was awkward and enjoying their hour of food and free time. But when the clock hand struck the hour, Nanami got up and left the room almost immediately whereas everyone else took some time getting back to their desks.

You bidded Chie and Hideo goodbye, they wished you the best of luck at cementing your spot here. They seemed nice, and while you were good with numbers, you weren’t as gifted at dealing with social situations, but they didn’t seem to mind.

You got back to your desk though, and seeing how you had just a few things to go over plus that this paperwork you were working on wasn’t due for some time, you decided to place some of your few personal items. Placing your name plate in the far right corner (you had decided to place it similarly as your desk neighbour), a small desk calendar of some beaches next to your computer, and some stationary in the provided organiser. It wasn’t much, but you may add more later depending on how everything worked out.

Once satisfied, you sat upright and for the first time all day, Nanami was looking at you, not straight out but from the corner of his eye before going back to his work.

It had, what, been six-ish hours? And he had finally made a moment of eye contact and acknowledgment. You then also went back to work, and five minutes to the end of the work day you had finished the first assignment. Closing down your tabs and computer, you started gathering your things.

Once the hand struck the hour, you got up and so did Nanami.

You had turned your chair to the right, and he turned his to the left, leaving you both looking at each other very close.

“... pardon me,” he said, taking a step back, respecting your personal space.

“Sorry,” you offered at the same time, also taking a step back.

The two of you stood there for a moment, until you cleared your throat. “Sorry if I intruded on your space by the way.”

Nanami’s brows furrowed before relaxing, “It’s fine.”

You mentally sighed in relief, you know it was childish, but you were afraid that he would hate you for intruding on his space. “Okay, that’s good to know.”

He nodded in answer, “Well,” he placed his coat on, “have a good night.” And he strode off to the door.

You waited for a moment before placing your coat on and followed suit, not wanting to leave immediately after him.

The first day was done, arguably the most socially draining one, but it went better than expected. You made some acquaintances, your desk was how you liked it, and while yes your desk neighbour was quiet he was also polite and respected your space. All things considered, it went great. 

And your routine continued. You and Nanami worked in silence next to each other besides the nod you shared to each other in the morning and when the work day ended. You spent your lunch breaks with Chie and Hideo. You felt comfortable.

Two months into working at the new office and you had finally started to feel more comfortable. Your old routine hadn’t changed as drastically as you thought it would.

Something was different today though, and it shouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did.

Nanami wasn’t in his chair.

Maybe he’s sick. Was what you were trying to tell yourself, but there was something gnawing at you. And apparently, the rest of the office took notice too.

Chie and Hideo took notice of your furrowed brows at lunch, both sharing a glance with each other.

“What’s the storm cloud that’s hovering over you,” Chie broke the silence, stirring around her food with her chopsticks. “Typically you’re clear skies, but,” she gestured her hands at you, “looks like you have a nasty black cloud hanging over your head.”

You stopped chewing, and swallowed your food, looking up to your friends. “... what?”

Hideo scratched at his chin, “You aren’t like yourself today.”

“Eloquent as ever, Hideo,” Chie muttered, the man shooting her a withering look which she ignored.

You fiddled with your hands under the table, hiding the nerves that had bubbled up. “Just … concerned about a coworker. He wasn’t at his desk this morning.” Why should I care? It isn’t any of my business.

Chie pursed her lips, thinking. “Oh yeahhhh,” she said, “Kento isn’t here, right?”

“You don’t know the guy, but I don’t think he would appreciate the casualness-” Hideo countered.

Kento? Your mind flashed back to the name plate next to your desk. Nanami K. ‘K’ as in Kento. In the two months that you had been here, you hadn’t even learned his given name, always just referring to him as Nanami.

“Yeah,” is what you answered with, “he doesn’t seem like the type to not come to work unless it was something serious.”

Hideo and Chie looked at you before looking at each other, a small smile forming on Chie’s face and Hideo looking tired. 

“The guy is probably sick,” Hideo huffed.

Chie just rolled her eyes, “Boring answer as usual.” She wrote something down on a piece of paper and slid it over to you. “Here’s his number.”

You and Hideo both looked at her with questioning looks. Nanami Kento was not the type to give his number to someone without good reason.

“How the hell did you get that,” Hideo questioned.

Chie just shrugged, “I saw it on the lunch room sheet when we had that karaoke night a few months ago… decided to keep it just in case and look! It worked out!”

You looked at the number, and carefully placed it into your pocket. You didn’t know if you were going to use it, as it felt like an invasion of privacy. You didn’t know Nanami well, but you knew that he didn’t like to mix business with his personal life. Just in case though. Is what your brain said.

Lunch ended without any other interruptions and you went back to your desk, still, Nanami wasn’t there.

He wasn’t there the next day either.

Or the next.

Or for the rest of the week.

There was no sign of Nanami Kento.

And while your brain was trying to rationalise it, your gut was pacing back and forth. Something was wrong, be it a bad case of some illness or something worse.

You stared at his number as you were trying to relax after your work week, eyes flickering back and forth from your dinner on the stove and the scrawled numbers on the crumpled piece of paper.

Just in case.

Turning the burner on low, you typed in his number on your messenger, a text felt less intrusive than a call.

Hey, Nanami, it’s Y/N. I was just concerned and a coworker gave me your number to check in.

You hit send before you second guess yourself and back out of it, and shut off your phone and place it face down, turning back to your food. A minute later and there was a vibration.

Nanami Just under the weather. Thank you though for checking in.

You breathed out a sigh of relief that was building in your chest for a week.

Okay, I hope you feel better soon and let me know if you need anything.

Let me know if you need anything?! I can’t do anything! I don’t even know where he lives!

The dots on your screen stopped and there was another message on your phone.

Nanami Thank you but I’m fine.

Somehow I doubt that. But you didn’t press into it, instead taking his answer for what it is and turning back to your dinner before it could burn from the inattention. Your chest feels a bit lighter than it previously had.

You arrived early for work, something cold and heavy in your gut as you watched the clock. Knowing Nanami, he would walk in just as the hour started. Always in on time, always out on time, never staying earlier or later.

And as the hour turned, a familiar head of blond hair walked through the door and you watched as Nanami sat down in his chair next to you.

A million questions were at the edge of your tongue, but you stayed quiet. You were nothing more than work acquaintances. You doubted that he considered the two of you friends. But you missed him. His presence was a crucial part of your daily routine, and even though you didn’t know him well, you missed him.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” is what you offered instead, looking at him out of the corner of your eye.

Nanami looks back at you, and you notice that his eyes are a warm hazel brown but with something clouding them slightly. “... glad to be back,” he said back before turning to his work.

You didn’t press for answers, but did notice that he winced every so often, and that the hollows of his cheeks — damn, his cheekbones are defined — were more pronounced. He wasn’t showing it, but Nanami was tired and still recovering. Not from an illness, but on one of his missions he was critically injured. Shoko did her best, but he still wasn’t back to his 100%. Typically people didn’t notice nor care if he wasn’t at his day job, but something warm made its way into his chest. You had noticed.

You who had entered into his life randomly one day, and slowly cemented yourself there. Never pushing, never intruding, but cementing yourself nonetheless. 

“I’m sorry if I worried you,” he said, barely above a whisper, as you were still working.

You glanced at him, as he never said anything while you both were working. “What for? You were ill, you can’t control that.”

Nanami hummed, “Fair enough. But, sorry that I worried you.” 

You hummed back, which he took as an answer that you understood.

There was a shift in your relationship. Acquaintance didn’t do it justice. You both cared and respected each other too much.

“I don’t like worrying my … friend,” he huffed.

Friend. 

You looked at him properly, before offering a smile, “Well, too bad, because I worry about my friends.” Nanami — Kento — looked back at you, at your smile, and he offered a small one back. “Noted. I’ll try my best so you don’t need to worry.”

Kento had been looking for his phone all morning with no luck. Typically he wouldn’t be as concerned, since he didn’t keep much on it, but now he was antsy trying to look for the damned thing.

“Didn’t know you were seeing someone, Nanami,” an all too irritating voice sang. Gojo Satoru was holding his phone while sprawled out on a chair. Of course he had his phone and was snooping around. “But, yeesh, they’re dry as can be. ‘Here’s the recipe for those chocolate muffins I brought in the other day that you liked.’ Tch.”

Kento felt his eye twitch as he calmly took back his phone. “They aren’t my partner,” he said, but something clenched in his heart. “And they aren’t dry.”

Satoru shrugged, “Defensive much! If they aren’t your partner…” a mischievous grin played out on his face, “can I have that muffin recipe?”

“Absolutely not,” he retorted sooner than he could think.

The grin grew wider, “See, defensive!~”

With his phone in hand, Kento left the room and his former high school as he made the trip back to his place. And even though he saw Satoru as an annoyance, something that had said had struck a chord with him.

Why am I defensive? And that weird clench in his chest.

That only increased once he saw what Satoru had changed your contact name in his phone to. 

🤎 My Muffin 🤎

Oh… there’s that warm feeling again.

You had noticed something going on with Kento, he was back to being a bit distant which was odd.

You had, officially, been friends for four months, and you can hardly believe that it’s been six months since you had chosen to sit next to him. Today though, he had his walls up.

“Is something going on,” you asked once lunch had started, turning your seat to speak to him.

He looked towards you but not at you, which you noticed. “I didn’t sleep well,” he answered.

Technically it was true. After what Gojo had said and what he had changed your name to in his phone — which Kento hadn’t had the heart to change back — he barely got any sleep, instead laying in bed and staring up at the ceiling.

He knew that he cared for you, but to what depths he did not know. He layed in bed into the late hours of the night, going over his own conflicting thoughts. He envisioned your future as friends, and he was content with that, but then his thoughts wandered. They wandered into something more than what you two currently have. A chaste kiss to the back of his wrist. Hugging you. Your chilly hands wandering under his shirt trying to get warm on a winter’s night. Waking up next to you. Kissing you. Holding you. Being the reason why you laugh and smile.

The depths were then known, and they went far deeper than just platonic feelings.

The dark circles under his eyes were from lost sleep, yes, but also from a future he knew wouldn’t come to fruition. A future that he knew would only bring you heartache and pain, and even the moments of warmth and peace isn’t worth that.

You knew you weren’t going to get much else for an answer, so you just gave him a small smile. “Alright, but I’m always here if you want to talk about it, Kento.”

You had said his given name before, but now he wished that he never had told you to use his name by the way that his heart grew warm. He didn’t say anything though and just nodded, and then walked out of the office for his lunch, something else that was new.

Your lunch hour was quiet, and your mind elsewhere, wondering what made Kento switch his routine. He was predictable. He was stable. What could make him change from usual?

“Who are you thinking about,” Hideo asked, sipping his coffee.

You looked up to find Chie and Hideo looking at you, and you stopped stirring your soup. How long had I been stirring it?

“Who am I thinking about?” You parroted back, unsure of what he was leading on about.

Chie groaned, “Yeah, you have this concerned dopey look on your face. So, spill. Who are you pining after? If they hurt you, so help me–”

Pining?! “I’m not pining after anyone,” you muttered, taking a sip of your soup. Damn, it��s cold. “… what would make you think that?”

“My brother had the same look on his face, poor bastard fell hard,” Hideo said. “And you’ve had … this lightness around you for the past few months and it’s not as light, if that makes sense.”

The only thing that had changed was that you were concerned about Kento, your friend. Your brain always emphasised the friend part, yet your heart always felt warm when you were around him. You rationalised that it would pass, yet it hasn’t. It’s been five months and it hasn’t passed. You’ve had crushes before, but they always passed and never stayed this long.

You can’t have a crush on a coworker, let alone a friend, that’s two cans of worms in one. Yet, as Hideo and Chie keep on chatting, you’re analysing the past six months. Trying to find where these mushy feelings started to arise.

Maybe it was when you had gotten Kento to genuinely laugh, with the way you had felt your face warm from the sound. Or discovering that he enjoyed listening to emo music, envisioning the usually stoic and proper man listening to it felt like whiplash yet it made so much sense. Or the way his eyes would unconsciously seek you out in the morning, the weak sunlight illuminating his eyes into warm pools of amber. Or just how he treated others, respectful.

It was everything. 

Yet you hadn’t acted out on these feelings, not wanting to ruin everything that you’ve built with him. Which has left you a pining mess. Wanting to reach out, but not wanting to get too close to the candle in fear of getting burnt.

“I,” you whispered quietly, “don’t want to ruin what we have.”

Chie and Hideo went quiet, giving you a sympathetic look before looking at each other, silently communicating with each other.

“Would you be happy with what you currently have though?” Chie asked, placing her hand on top of yours, rubbing soothing patterns into the skin.

You thought about it. Could I be happy?

You envisioned Kento, a few years in the future, arm around his partner’s waist as he introduces you as his friend. The thought alone leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You never thought yourself to be the jealous type, but the thought of that imaginary person made the emotion flare.

“… no.”

Hideo, clapped you on the shoulder, “Well, that’s your answer! What are you waiting for then?”

The rest of the day passed agonisingly slow, and Kento was still closed off.

You didn’t speak to him at all, the tension making your throat dry, but every time you glanced over to him you noticed his eyes dart back to his work quickly. 

Tonight, after work. You told yourself, busying yourself with an easy assignment, everything adding up nicely.

If only this was as easy.

Finally, as the hand hit the hour and Kento got up, you tapped him on the shoulder, garnering his attention.

“Kento, I have to tell you something,” you breathed out.

The dreaded sentence, ‘I need to tell you something.’ just as foreboding as ‘We need to talk.’

He stopped, and tensed. Waiting.

You cleared your throat, realising that you were in the office, and you really didn’t need HR finding out. “But, outside.”

Kento followed three steps behind you, keeping a bit of distance but still close. The elevator ride down was tense and awkward, and he wanted to say something but stayed quiet. He was keeping his distance, but he had felt the warmth of your friendship, he so badly wanted it, but instead of the steady flicker of a candle flame, he wanted it to be a crackling fire. Brighter. Warmer. More intense. So he stood a respectful distance, even though he wanted to reach out.

The two of you walked out into the courtyard, and once you reached the sidewalk, you turned to him, fiddling with your hands.

“Do you … like being around me, Kento?”

Kento blinked a few times. Do I like being around you? Do living things like breathing? I can’t imagine not being around you. “Yes,” he said instead, “what brought this up?” He knew full well what brought this up, and he was mentally kicking himself for how his behaviour had made you feel.

You took in a breath, steadying yourself. “Just, you’ve been avoiding me… cold in a sense. Something felt off, and,” you paused, digging your nails into your palms, enough to sting, “I really like being around you, it hurts when you aren’t around.”

His eyes searched in yours, and he heard his heartbeat roar like waves hitting the shore.

“I don’t just really like being around you, I-” you took a breath, “I love you, Kento.”

I love you, Kento. Played through his head, and it felt like everything stopped.

You waited with bated breath for his answer, but you weren’t expecting his hand to enclose around your own, bringing them up to his chest. You could feel his heart pounding erratically.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered and your world felt like it was crumbling down. “I adore you.” He brought your wrist to his lips and placed a kiss to your pulse, closing his eyes. “I just didn’t want to lose you.”

“What fools we are,” you laugh.

Kento hummed, “Fools plural?”

You nodded, “I… I’ve liked you for a while and I didn’t want to ruin what we have by confessing but,” you motioned to your current situation, “looks like I had nothing to fear. Kento, you will never lose me.”

You moved your one hand to his neck, tracing a circle with your thumb, “And if you do, I’ll find you again.”

The both of you were close, and he closed the distance by placing a kiss to your lips, still chaste, but you could feel the heat behind it, the emotions left unsaid made abundantly clear. You bit the bullet and deepened it, feeling him sigh and relax against you.

Sure, switching companies made you nervous, upset that your routine had changed. That the former stability was gone. But, without it you would have never ended up like this. 

You never would have found Kento.

[mymessyfandomlibrary]

Masterlist Index

This will be edited as fandoms and characters are added.

Arcane

Sevika

The Hand That Feeds (18+ smut; afab!reader)

COD

John 'Soap' MacTavish

Not Quite Out of Reach (SFW; gn reader)

JJK

Higuruma Hiromi

As the Evidence Shows (SFW; fluff; gn reader)

Gojo Satoru

Salt & Sugar (SFW; meet annoyance; gn reader; short fic) <- may build on this at a later time

Nanami Kento

Not in the Routine (SFW; fluff; gn reader)

[mymessyfandomlibrary]

General Housekeeping & Such

Unsure of how much I'll be posting, but it's best to put something like this here.

The Bare Bones

I'm a fic writer when I have my free time (and when my brain is cooperating, but they tend to be on separate schedules). I've been writing fic for more than ten years but have been on and off about posting it. The majority of this blog will be x reader content, focusing on gender-neutral readers.

Link to Masterlist

Blog Rules

I'm fine with minors reading my SFW content, but if I see you interacting with the NSFW/18+ I can and will block you.

I don't tolerate any form of bigotry (racism, sexism, ableism, homophobia, transphobia, etc.). I will block and report you.

Please refer to my ask rules before sending in an ask.

Ask Rules

I will likely not have my requests open very often, but when I do open them up I’ll be happy to answer them as long as people are polite and not demanding or going against my rules.

No NSFW requests for characters or readers who are minors. No, I will not age them up. Please leave the kids alone.

No minor x adult.

No incestuous relationships, this includes step-family dynamics.

Please include if you would prefer a fem or masc aligned reader. If you do not specify, the reader will be gender-neutral.

If you request, please interact and reblog. Fandom writers and artists help keep the fandom community alive, and we've been noticing the lack of interaction.

If you're on anon, feel free to ask for an emoji or something to signify yourself. I'll include future taken anons as they arrive.

Anons

Tagging System

Content warnings will be listed at the beginning of every piece, and tagged appropriately (ie. cw character death).

How I tag things is very straightforward, but I will tag non-writing as #not writing, that way if you don't want to see that content you don't have to.

For NSFW/18+ content, the post itself will have it at the very beginning in red bold.

My Fandoms (past & present ... and that I can remember)

BNHA

Demon Slayer

Dungeon Meshi

Genshin

Haikyuu (will do the canon time skip)

Honkai Star Rail

Ikemen Prince & Villains

JJK

Mystic Messenger

Obey Me

Twisted Wonderland

... there's more that I'm forgetting

Assorted Other Things

Posts won't really be on a schedule or frequent, but I do hope I can write eventually.

I may come across as stiff and cold in this introductory post, but I just want to make sure that my boundaries are clear. I'm just a nerd who enjoys putting characters into situations (good? bad? depends on the day).

I would like to stay anonymous since I found there felt like more pressure if people knew more about me.

I don't have a beta reader, so there will likely be typos and some grammatical errors.

Other than that, I hope people (and myself) enjoy this blog. Sit back, relax, and read about your dearly beloved (or detested) blorbo.