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kentopedia · 2 months

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౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ IN ALL THE LINES I'VE READ — nanami kento

summary . . . coffee shop meet cute with literature professor nanami <3

contents . . . sfw, written w f!reader in mind, lit prof nanami tehe, fluff, grumpy nanami, reader is a barista, age gap (nanami early 30s, reader early 20s) — 1.4k

notes . . . selfship coded :,,) this is such a random idea from rylie's brain (and drafts) bc i must post something for my most beloved for valentine’s day <33 i have some other ideas for this so let me know if you like it !!!

The first time you meet Nanami Kento, it’s in a dimly lit cafe in your hometown.

The evening is just dawning upon you, the grey of the dreary sky turning into a muted black. It’s just after 5pm; the sun already fading into the horizon, drizzly rain coating the windows like crystals.

You’ve been busy all day — it’s always busy on rainy days, when people seem to recall that the ambience of rain pelting outside mixes well with a cup of warm coffee between your palms. The tables are all full, now that people have gotten off work, and it’s a favorite study spot of many students.

It’s tiring work sometimes, and there are days where you get weary of the same routine. When saving up money seems like a fruitless effort, and you feel like your life should’ve begun already.

But it’s also good to be around people like this… Seeing them laugh and smile, while you only wonder what they’re talking about. The job pays less, but it’s better than being cooped up in a office all day.

“Hey,” one of the other baristas sets a latte down, a pattern of milk sitting just on top. “Can you run this to the man over there,” she points to a blonde in the corner of the cafe.

Wordlessly, you take the mug, wiping the drops of coffee that have spilled over the sides of it. The customer had ordered a pastry as well, one of your favorites. There is a small puff of steam wafting off of it, the bottom of the plate still hot.

The man’s back is towards you, facing the window, and he’s bent over a pile of papers. You can’t see his face — but his hair is done up nicely, and his white button-down sleeves are rolled up to his elbow. There’s a nice watch on his wrist, silver and black; one that’s probably more expensive than anything you own.

It’s a balancing act, weaving through the tables with the pastry and mug in hand, and when you get to his, there’s no room to set his order down. Papers are scattered across the table, and there is a stack of well-loved books beside him. A few are titles you recognize, ones you’ve read, ones you own but haven’t gotten to. Some you know only vaguely.

“Here’s the latte,” you say, distracted, scanning the spines of the books. The man mutters an apology, and moves his papers so that you can set the coffee and plate down.

He doesn’t look up at you, offering only a dismissive thank you. But the sound goes unnoticed by you; you’re too preoccupied by your excitement. So few people walk in here with with books you’re actually interested in discussing.

“I’ve been meaning to read that one,” you say, pointing to a title that is on your long list of books to be read.

He hums — it’s obvious he doesn’t care, and the sound is just one of acknowledgement.

Embarrassment heats your cheeks as you realize this is probably something he gets often. Upon second glance, he’s attractive… breathtakingly so. He probably fends of hoards of woman, ones who use books to gain the key to his heart, even if they’re only pretending to be interested.

“I enjoyed his other books,” you continue, highlighting the ones that you’ve read and love. At least, then, he’ll know you’re not an idiot, even if he stays silent, eyes glued to the paper.

His pen stops scratching marks into the sheet, but only for a second. Then, he carries on, unimpressed by whatever slim knowledge you’re able to supply.

“Are you a teacher?” The words leave your lips, once before you can stop yourself.

He doesn’t care. You aren’t sure why you’re even still bothering.

“Nope,” he replies, finishing up his summarized commentary, scribbled in a penmanship that is something in between messy and elegant. “A professor.”

“Oh.” You’d thought he was too young to be a professor, but when you look at home closer, there are faint lines around his eyes, ones even more obvious on his forehead. Around thirty, you’d guess. Maybe even older than that. “That’s interesting.”

You should probably leave him alone. He’s busy, and you’re supposed to be working, and he probably thinks you’re a child, the way you’re talking to him like a brick wall. Yet, there is something about him that keeps you glued to your spot, so intrigued by the stack of novels and the way his hand flexes around the pen.

“Is it?” There is a hint of irritation in his voice when he finally glances up at you from under the round, wire-rimmed glasses, perched on the bridge of his nose. The pen drops onto the table with a soft click. “Because, I find that—”

His lips part. Whatever he was going to say next seems to die, abruptly cut off, and he blinks at you. Two dark eyes scan your face with a hint of surprise.

You’re cheeks warm, and you suddenly feel uncomfortable. It’s not typical of you to make conversation with strangers, and you’re certain he notices how awkwardly you’re standing.

“I’m sorry,” you say, clearing your throat, and pointedly ignoring the lump in it. His silhouette had been striking enough, but it’s nothing compared to the entirety of his face. He’s beautiful — like he’s stepped right out of the pages of a novel himself. He feels like everything you’ve ever wanted, with his stack of books and piercing irises. “I’ll let you get back to grading.”

“No need to apologize.” The tone shifts a bit, his voice not as rough. Maybe you’re just delusional, but his eyes appear to soften. “I’m almost done, anyway.”

You nod, and a little smile pulls onto your face. It’s not quite true; the stack of ungraded papers is twice as large as the ones he’s finished. “Well, I should … Get back to work. Enjoy the coffee.”

He smiles, amused; your heart flips, then sinks all the way down to your stomach, pounding. “Alright. Thank you.”

“Have a good night!” you say, far too quickly, before turning on your heels. Your hands are sweating, and you hope he never comes in again, because you’re not sure that you can stand the embarrassment you feel.

The blonde professor, name unknown, lets you go, and you slink off to hide in the kitchen, cursing yourself for acting like a fool. With hot cheeks, you down a glass of water, big gulps from your shaking hands, and glare at your co-worker when she grins to herself.

Thirty minutes later, your shift ends, and the professor has made his way out the door, walking down the sidewalk. As you leave the cafe, your bag over your shoulder and hair undone, you notice that he left one of his novels, the one you’d pointed out to him in the beginning of your conversation.

You rush out to stop him, carrying the book with you. “Hey,” you shout, waving it to the stranger. “You left this.”

He glances over his shoulders, bundled up in a coat to combat the brisk air. There’s a redness on his cheeks from the cold, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I know,” he says, hands firmly tucked in his pockets. “You can keep it.”

“But—” you start, swallowing as the pages rustle with the wind, the cover snapping open.

“You wanted to read it, didn’t you?” he shrugs. “I’ve got lots of copies. You can give it back to me when you finish.”

You start to question him, but he’s already turned around, heading away.

Which means he’ll be back, won’t it? You haven’t scared him away completely.

You shout something at him, and turns, just halfway, making a face that tells you he didn’t hear you.

“That’s my name,” you say again, repeating it, licking your lips. Your only hope is that he’ll offer his.

But he doesn’t — he keeps walking down the sidewalk, before he answers a phone call, and crosses the street.

Unsurprising.

You sigh, gaze dropping down to the book. The pages are filled and filled with his handwriting, notes in the margins, highlights and lines across the words. So much thought had been put into it, that you wonder how many times he’s read this book, if maybe, it’s a favorite.

The wind flicks the cover back to the front title page, the publisher underneath. In the top right hand corner, Nanami Kento is smoothly written. As if he’d wanted you to discover it yourself, instead of hearing it from his lips.

You trace it, and smile.

#this wasn’t meant to see tumblr but here we are so #jjk x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #kento nanami x you #nanami x reader #jjk x fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #xoxo rylie 💌 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

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lizhrs · 1 year

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saw this picture and thought of escaped convict izuku on the run with raging psychopath/villian dynamight who decide to pay you a visit annnnd yeah (wc:2.6k)

It was supposed to be a nice evening all to yourself.

You were finally on break from the seemingly countless load of work and projects school has been throwing your way. You didn't think twice about taking time off from work and driving to your little cabin two towns out once the semester ended.

The first few days were fine. Everything you could've asked for. No call ins from work, deadlines from uni or hounding from your mother. It was just blissful peace.

But then a knock came at your door. You were reluctant to open it, especially since you're pretty sure no one knew you were here. Except for your mother but she lives thousands of miles away, she's never been the one to visit. It's always you who has to go to her. Your instincts tell you not to open it.

It's the beginning of a freaking horror movie for crying out loud.

Girl alone in a cabin in the middle of the woods. Check.

Girl has no contact with the outside world because of some absurd challenge of not checking social media for a solid two weeks. Check.

Girl has zero fighting abilities or survival instincts. Check.

Maybe the survival instincts part isn't all too correct because you stay put on your sofa, staring at the hardwood door from your position in the small cabin. Who could it be?

You check the time, it's nine.

Maybe a person's car broke down nearby. But even then, you refuse to—another knock has you jumping. That's when you hear the whispers.

"I thought you said she'd be here, fucking nerd."

"She is." A calm voice responds.

You freeze. You know that voice. You haven't heard it in years but you definitely know it. You slowly stand up, walking to the door to get a clearer listening. "Did she leave? I swear to—"

"If you would stop talking, you would see all the lights are on. Clearly there's someone here."

A frustrated sigh then another series of pounding on the door. You can't help it, a small scream escapes your lips at the sudden noise. Then silence. They obviously heard you.

Yeah...definitely no survival instincts.

"Y/N?" A voice asks. It's definitely him. Definitely Izuku. But he sounds different. More hardened, confident...a stark contrast to the stuttering boy you were friends with five years ago. "It's me, Izuku. Open the door."

Open the door?

Why would you open the door to someone you haven't even spoken to in years? Someone who doesn't even give you a notice before rudely barging on your property. You can't stay silent any longer, obviously they know you're here but for some reason you can't bring yourself to speak.

"I just need a favor—"

"Fucking move." The other man mutters, you hear some shoving before an explosive sound causes you to take several steps back. What the fuck?

"You can't blow down her door!" Izuku groans in annoyance, shoving the man away.

"Why not? She won't let us in!"

"For obvious reasons you fucking imbecile!"

And you've definitely never heard Izuku curse before. "G-go away." You finally say. That man clearly has a quirk and judging from the sound of it, it could destroy you in a matter of seconds.

Another minute of whispering before Izuku is speaking up again.

"Why do you sound so scared?" He sounds like he's trying to put on a facade, trying to act nice and nonthreatening but the words roll off his tongue in a manner that only has you cringing. This is not the same Izuku you knew back then and you refuse to be one of those dumb girls who get stabbed in a horror movie because she was stupid enough to give some asshole the benefit of the—a pair of arms wrap around your waist, lifting you off the ground and eliciting a terrified scream from your lips.

What the fuck?!

You thrash around in the others person's grip but they're freakishly strong, holding you up with one arm as the other goes to open the door.

"No! Don't—let go of me you psycho!"

It opens and the blood drains from your body, mouth opening in fear as Izuku steps in. He sighs, running his fingers through his hair before shutting the door behind him.

"Told you there's a backdoor. Dumb bitches like this never lock the back door."

What?

"Excuse me?!"

Izuku smiles down at you...since when is he taller than you? He looks older, jawline sharper, eyes more hardened, that boyish smile and chubby cheeks of his that always calmed you down are gone. Instead replaced by this.

You gasp as you take in his clothes. They're...fucking prison jumpsuits covered in blood. He follows your gaze, laughing a bit at your horrified gaze. "Oh this? It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

Don't worry about it?

You scream as the man walks to the living room with you still in his grip, he throws you down on the couch and that's when you get a good look at him. He's big. Fucking massive with spikey blonde hair and a sneer that looks like it could rip you in half. He's also wearing a prison suit.

Tears quickly form in your eyes at the situation you're in. Prison suits, covered in blood and looking at you like you're a piece of meat. Yeah, you're definitely dying tonight. "W-what do you want?"

"Geez, five years of no contact and this is how she greets you?" The blonde laughs. "I thought you two were lovebirds." He plops down on the couch, picking up a magazine.

"Shut up, Katsuki." He sighs.

You two never dated. He was practically a little brother to you, always following you around like a lost puppy. But he doesn't look so desperate anymore. His eyes are chillingly dark all while his lips are forcing themselves into a smile that looks anything but kind. While the other one has almost a maniacal glint to his eyes. They're both creepy, terrifying you to your core as you slowly move your hand behind you. You left your phone somewhere around here, granted there's barely any data but you should at least try something.

Izuku moves closer, a movement that has you flinching away. "Stay back!" You screech.

Katsuki groans, rubbing his ears. "The mouth on her, goddamn."

"Look. Me and my...friend here are in a bit of a bind. We just need a place to stay for a little while and we'll be out of your hair."

You scoff, eyes trailing down to the crimson color on his hands. "What happened to you?" Or better yet, what the hell did he do to whatever poor guy got in his way?

He frowns. "I freed myself from a sticky situation. Why are you looking at me like that y/n?"

"Y-You're...in a prison jumpsuit with blood all over you and that's what you ask?"

"I did what I had to do." He sounds utterly convinced, that's what scares you the most. "Can we stay here?"

"Not like she can stay no." Katsuki cuts in, standing up and going to the kitchen to rummage through your fridge.

"H-how did you know I'd be here?" You ask, throat unbearably dry at this point.

"You always spoke about this cabin, how you would come here every semester break in the future." He sits right next to you, stretching a bit as he cracks his neck. "Fuck, I'm tired. We've spent the past few days in the damn woods."

He remembers something you told him nearly seven years ago? He’s always been disturbingly observant.

"We should've barged in here sooner. But no, you wanted to stake it out." Katsuki scoffs.

"You've been watching me?" Your chest tightens at that fact. You've been in this cabin alone for days with these two psychos watching your every move? Did they come in while you were sleeping? Taking a shower? You never lock the back door, a stupid, ridiculous habit you've been trying to break. But now it's too late it seems as you stare into Izuku's cold eyes.

"It was the only way to know no one else was coming. No one is coming, right?" He leans forward, slight suspicion etching on his features.

"Who cares if they do? I'll just blast the fuckers into bits."

You tense up at that, stomach twisting painfully. Izuku grabs your chin, you jump as his blood stained fingers grip you. "No one is coming right?"

"N-no." You whimper, shaking your head. "I'm the only one that comes here. Y-you know that."

"Well I've been gone for a while. You probably got a boyfriend, one of those meat heads losers you were always into. Do you? Are they coming here?" He quizzes, staring deep into your soul.

"No!" You yell, slapping his hands away. The longer they're on you, the more you feel like gagging. "I don't have a boyfriend."

His smile falters at that, jaw clenching and unclenching as he takes deep breaths, like he's trying to calm himself down for you removing yourself from his hold. Like you had no right. “That's a shame. I would've enjoyed meeting the man who you finally deemed good enough." He says after a few seconds.

"Why? So you could kill him in front of her?" Katsuki comes back, snorting as he sits on the couch. He's got a tub of ice cream in his hand. You didn't peg a hardened criminal as a haagen daz lover.

Izuku laughs, a sound that has you cringing on the inside. It sounds terrifyingly unstable. "You're making me seem like a sociopath, Kats."

Katsuki rolls his eyes. "Wouldn't want that."

You swallow the lump in your throat. "You guys would just be staying for a few days right? I won't—I won't tell anyone, I swear. You don't have to hurt me."

"Now...why would I want to hurt you y/n?" He murmurs, fingers traveling to play with the curls of your hair. "You've given us hospitality. That's all I could've asked for."

You try to force a smile but the pit in your stomach is exhausting you at this point. You feel like screaming, puking and running for the hills all at the same time. But you can't run...the nearest house is at least thirty minutes away and they would surely catch you before then.

"O-okay." You whimper. "You're not...you're not mad at me, are you?" You find yourself asking, trying to stay calm.

He freezes, letting go of your hair as he leans against the couch. "Mad?"

"For what happened." You lick your dry lips. He has to remember. You highly doubt he came all this way just for hospitality. They could've broken into any old house or car but instead they waited here for days, waiting for the perfect opportunity to attack you. Even though they should be out of the freaking country by now.

He stares at you for a while, his smile now replaced by a haunting look of indifference. Everything he does scares you. If he's not staring at you like you're a little kid throwing a tantrum, he's peering like he wonders what your insides look like.

"No...I'm not mad." He smiles again. "The past is the past."

"O-okay." You sigh, not believing him one bit.

"What happened?" Katsuki asks, looking genuinely interested.

"Shut up." Izuku simply responds and somehow the blonde doesn’t take offense to the tone, only rolling his eyes in response and going back to his ice cream.

Finally. Finally, you gain enough courage to reach your phone. Your fingers clench around the object behind you, praying they don't see the movements. "W-what did you guys do to get sent to prison?" The words flow out of your mouth, trying to buy time as you press the emergency button on your phone.

"We'll save that conversation for another time. But for now..." Izuku reaches behind you, ripping the phone out of your hands before you can even blink. You barley had it for a fucking second, how the hell did he know?

"W-what are—"

A slap to the face shuts you up immediately, it's not hard. It was practically a tap but something tells you that was just a warning, that if you pull something else, his retaliation will be less...merciful. "Open it."

“No."

Stupid.

"Open the phone, y/n." He says through clenched teeth, the calm facade he's been wearing all night slowly slipping off.

"No! You—what are you—" Hands grip the back of your hair, yanking your head back and evoking a painful scream. Fuck, he's strong. Katsuki stands behind you, menacing glare fixated on you as he sighs. "Just open the phone, doll."

You bite your tongue, slowly taking the phone from Izuku's welcoming hands and typing in your password.

"Was that so hard?" He asks, scrolling through your device.

Katsuki lets go of you, walking around the sofa so now he's standing behind Izuku. Both of them peering at your phone, like it's the most fascinating thing ever. "The emergency button didn't even work, service at this cabin has always been atrocious huh y/n?"

You refrain from telling him to fuck off.

"I'm just sending a little message to your mom—how is she by the way—that you'll be off the grid until you get back from break." He hums, tapping erratically. "You don't really have many friends it seems." He tilts his head to the side.

"I always thought you were destined to be that cliche slut of a cheerleader in high school, too dumb to know her left from her right but always so eager to please—oh." He pauses, scoffing a bit as he comes across something.

"W-what?" You ask, biting the inside of your cheek until it's throbbing.

"It appears you lied to us!" He laughs, the sound practically maniacal. The most emotion he's shown since he broke into your house. He holds the phone up, a crazed look in his eyes as he pouts.

"You do have a boyfriend."

Your eyes widen at the text messages he's showing you. If you had known your former friend and aspiring stalker would've broken into your cabin, you would've deleted those messages. But it's too late now as Izuku looks at the phone again with that stupid mischievous glint dancing around in his eyes.

"We—we've only been together a month, Izuku. I barely know the guy." You try to defend yourself, not sure why. Why does he still care so much after all these years?

It's a lie, you've been with him for over a year but you refuse to reveal that. Not with the terrifying expression on Izuku's face. "Why do you care? I-it's no—"

"Why wouldn't I care?" He scoffs. "After you trampled all over my heart?" He pushes the phone to Katsuki's chest to which the blonde happily takes it.

"After you made me feel like a fucking stain on some dirty sheets? After you broke and used me until there was nothing left to abuse?" He's getting closer, unbearably close. So much for bygones being bygones.

He grabs your chin again, it's much harder than last time and you're sure a bruise will be left. "I-I'm sorry." The tears are flowing down your cheeks now.

"It's okay." He nods, smiling at you. He leans in, placing a small peck on your cheek before backing away. "I forgive you, sweetheart. We all know you were never the brightest." The change in personality is almost as creepy as his gaze right now.

You try not to wipe the saliva on your cheek away, disgusted with the proximity. He's still so fucking delusional after all this time.

"Invite him over." It takes a second for you to realize he's not talking to you but to the deranged blonde next to him.

"W-what? No! Why—"

"Those who are sorry should be eager to prove it, y/n." He says like it's so obvious. "You can atone for your mistakes this way."

Atone? What is he, some type of God? Fucking psycho. "Leave him alone—"

"Invite him." He rolls his eyes. "I'm going to freshen up, can't wait to meet him y/n." He walks towards the stairs, humming a song all the way up.

"Don't worry." Katsuki says, catching your horrified expression. "This will be fun."

#this picture has been rotting my brain lately this wasn’t meant to be so long #literally only wanted like 500 words of this #I feel like it could’ve been better #katsuki x reader #deku x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #izuku x reader #izuku x y/n #izuku x you #mha fic #yandere #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x you #deku x you #deku x reader

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