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ellethelynx · 1 month ago

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₍^. .^₎⟆ synposis: soulmate!AU. nanami begins to find things that don't belong to him in his apartment. lipgloss. a single sock. a hair dryer. and in the middle of it all, a fluffy turtle keychain he wishes to give back to his unknown but destined lover. word count: 2.5k

it starts with a plush keychain.

nothing too loud or flashy, just a fluffy yellow turtle with a metal clip on.

gojo nearly falls out of his chair when he spots it tucked between nanami's array of books and reading glasses. it's clearly out of place, cute and plush against the pristine cleanliness and monochromatic chic of nanami's apartment, and nanami doesn't harbor any secret children (that gojo knows of).

"and whoooooose is this? or more likely, which lady's is this?" gojo sing songs, dangling the keychain from his pinky finger. nanami sighs, his back turned to gojo as his coffee finishes brewing, the clipped comment dying in his mouth when he spots what the silver haired man is holding.

nanami has a near photographic memory of everything in his apartment. he's damn near curated every inch of his living space. at first he thinks it's a joke.

"where'd you even get that, gojo." he grumbles, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes.

"it was right here on your bedside table." gojo scoffs at the accusation.

the black coffee burns nanami's throat on the way down.

"if this is some kind of a prank, i'm afraid it's not that funny."

gojo actually pouts at that, like a little child that's been told off, before crossing his arms.

"I'm being serious, nanami! It was laying right here in between your books!" he pauses, before breaking into a big smile. "So you're either hiding a girl-"

"i'm not seeing anyone."

"or this is... the sign."

nanami pretends not to know, in an effort to calm his racing heartbeat.

"what sign?"

gojo's eyes widen.

"what sign? are you hearing yourself? this is your soulmate's lost item! this is so exciting! we have to celebrate! I have to text everyone we know, arrange flowers, there's this amazing restaurant downtown that does the most incredible s-"

whilst his friend rattles on, nanami's eyes remain fixated on the little turtle now sitting on his kitchen table, warmth blooming across his chest. he'd heard the stories of course. soulmates' lost possessions ending up in each other's homes. but he hadn't gotten his hopes up. not everyone in the world would have a soulmate. nor would it be so easy to say with certainty that finding strange items in your house would be attributable to a soulmate. but this...

his hands moved on their own accord, left hand brushing up against the toy. the keychain was soft in his hands, yellow fur and black stitched smile.

"and- hello? are you even listening to me?!"

nanami hums, if only to placate gojo, whose short attention span has now been diverted by a new text from geto. when gojo rushes out the apartment door, stealing a pack of mochi from the kitchen counter whilst rushing out goodbyes, nanami doesn't even bother to look up from where he's standing.

leaning up against the marble countertops of his kitchen, twisting and examining the soft plush from all angles. his heart flutters at the realization that he's holding something that belongs to... his one and only.

patting the small head of the toy turtle, he tucks it into his coat pocket, vowing to reunite it with its owner in the future.

a week later, on a lazy Sunday morning, he finds lipgloss where his extra toothpaste should be.

but not just a tube of lipgloss.

an array of different lipglosses of all shades - dark burgundy, cherry red, barbie pink, soft pink, sparkly peach. it makes nanami's head spin, pulling down one tube of lipgloss after another that have magically appeared in his bathroom mirror cabinet.

examining each one with surgical precision, he notices that one of the shades are clearly more used up than another. barbie pink. he makes a mental note of this, carefully placing away the lipglosses in a spare toiletry bag he keeps under the sink.

over the course of a month, that bag becomes filled with little remnants of his soulmate. nearly empty perfume bottles. a single sock with a print of a golden retriever. multi colored hair ties. a small travel sized shampoo and body wash set. these items appear randomly and suddenly without warning, often when he's having a bad day.

a late 1am return from work, his head pounding from exhaustion and dehydration? he nearly steps on the perfume bottle laying on the floor near his bedroom door. it's clearly well loved, with only a third or so left, and smells distinctively of vanilla and lavender.

a 7am rush as the city wakes up behind him, the streets of tokyo buzzing with energy as he clips on his shoes? he finds a multi pack of hair ties sitting neatly in between the gaps of his shoes in the cupboard.

nanami even almost misses the single sock - navy blue with a golden retriever print on it - hanging from his closet when he's cleaning, because of how natural it looks. when he takes it off from the rack, he turns it over in his hand and smiles: imagining how nice it would be to have her cardigan draped over his couch and pairs of socks tucked into his closet.

now whenever nanami can't sleep, he imagines what his soulmate looks like. is she tall? short? shy? extroverted? a coffee person or a tea person? the type to laugh loudly with her whole chest and heart, or giggle silently to herself in an effort to hide her laugh?

his hands inevitably find the soft turtle keychain sitting by his bed, stroking its fur and imagining what it would be like to hold her hand instead, as his mind starts to drift off to sleep.

he wonders if she'd have some things of his as well. nanami isn't a forgetful or clumsy type of person, but he is human. he can't really name the last thing he's lost - maybe a bookmark or a reusable straw - but he sometimes wonders if he should purposefully forget something so it would end up at her place.

he's not even sure if that's how these things work.

autumn fades into winter, the cold nights bearable only with the surprise of what he might find in his apartment today. he's actually disappointed when he returns to an 'empty' house, everything in place and just as he remembered. he starts to think the universe is playing a cruel joke on him (or that she's gotten good at keeping track of her things) when a full month goes by with no lost items appearing in his place.

then, he spots a portable charger that's not compatible with his phone lying on his bed, and he knows he has her back.

and when he finds three missing items in the span of one week during a particularly rough December - a fraying picnic blanket with square patterns, a pair of fluffy thigh high boots, and an expensive looking hair dryer - he wonders if she's losing these things on purpose.

all in all, his apartment is no longer looking like a one bed bachelor suite belonging to a single salary man. but more of a couple's living space with his and hers items adorning every shelf and table.

it's gotten to the point that having people over - even for a few minutes - is difficult, without being subject to many eyebrow raises and accusations of dating behind his friends' backs.

as the months now stretch into spring, the frostbite of winter melting away into gentle spring breezes and early sunrises, nanami finds himself getting impatient. when will he meet her?

he knows it's foolish, to even think that it'll happen. the fact that he's even been given a soulmate is something to be grateful for. but there's an ache that nibbles on the side of his ribs, a buzzing anticipation that never leaves his mind when he stands in the middle of a crowded place.

in every train station. public crossing. jam packed bar filled with cigarette smoke. he looks for her, one hand always in his coat pocket, stroking the soft pet turtle that started it all. he imagines it'll be like the movies, he'll come across a stranger and he'll just know.

his stomach will flutter, his vision will blur, and his heart will instantly make the connection.

but it never happens, much to his disappointment.

it's now April, a few months to summer. the cherry blossoms are finally out and nanami needs a morning run to clear his mind. a quick shot of espresso and light stretches in his living room are all he needs before his shoes are hitting the pavement, dodging cyclists and pedestrians enjoying their gentle 7am walk.

a few laps in the park later, he's back in his apartment just in time to fold his running clothes for the washing machine and take a long shower.

a man of routine, he combs his hair and applies his meticulous skincare routine, counting downards from ten. whilst adjusting his tie, he inspects his suit for any faults and finishes by spraying himself with the same vanilla and lavender perfume of his soulmate's.

lastly, out of habit, he makes sure that the turtle keychain is kept safe and secured in his coat pocket.

clipping on his watch on his wrist, nanami doesn't look onto the street as he exits the elevator. he collides with a body, the stranger letting out a surprised yelp and the sound of iced coffee splashing the pavement.

"I am so very sorry." nanami immediately says, lowering his glasses to look at you right in your eyes. you thankfully don't seem mad, just a bit sheepish, as you accept his left hand to stand back up on your wobbly feet.

"no worries. i should've been walking so fast." you try and laugh it off, your brain going haywire at just how good looking this guy is. he's blonde, tall, clearly athletic - from how the tight fitting suit is hugging his body - with a jawline that could kill.

he even smells like your favorite perfume, vanilla and lavender.

"not at all, i was preocuppied with my thoughts and didn't look onto the street before stepping out." nanami quips, eyes falling onto the spilled coffee. "could i buy you a new coffee as an apology?"

"oh, i don't want to bother you-" you start, though internally you want nothing more but to keep talking to this handsome stranger.

"please, you wouldn't be." he assures you, heart fluttering at how wide and genuine your smile seems to be when you accept. when you bend over to pick up the split coffee cup, his eyes land on your socks and his throat dries up.

mismatched socks. one plain black sock. and the other, a navy blue sock with a very familiar golden retriever print.

'stay calm, nanami.' he scolds himself as you walk alongside him on the way to the cafe, quiet conversation filling the air about what you both do for work. 'this could mean anything. it could just be a popular sock brand.'

the conversation is easy. you're witty, kind, you hold his bicep to stop him from walking into traffic when he doesn't realize the light has suddenly turned red. then, you get all embarassed, apologizing for grabbing onto his arm without asking.

it makes his heart so warm.

and when you arrive at the cafe, casually slinging your bag over to the other shoulder whilst ordering, he notices the array of keychains hanging from your bag.

his heart skips another beat.

"you like my keychains?" you ask with a quiet laugh, noticing how intensely he's staring at your bag. "i'm a bit of a collector with these things. i just think they make my bags look more... unique and cute."

"do they each tell a story?" he quips, lips curling at the end. god, he finds you so cute, especially when your eyes light up whilst delving into detail about each keychain.

"..but my favorite one I lost sometime last year." you say, thanking the barista as you accept the drinks. your fingers brush against his when you pass him his black americano.

walking side by side on the pavement, nanami's heart beats irregularly at that declaration, but you're none the wiser. only innocently tilting your head sideways and asking if his coffee is good.

"it's great." he lies, as if the bitter coffee isn't burning his throat from the anticipation bubbling in his stomach.

fuck it.

"what was it?" he blurts out, unable to keep it in.

"what was?" you ask, confused.

"the keychain you lost."

"a turtle." you say with a small laugh, licking away the foam of coffee on your lips. "silly, i know but my cousin got it for me."

he stops breathing for a second.

"... was it a yellow turtle by any chance?"

nanami stops in his tracks. you two are back in front of the apartment where he bumped into you. his blood is rushing so loud in his ears that he's worried you can hear it, as your eyes widen in surprise.

"h-how'd you..."

"a fluffy yellow turtle with white fins and a black stitched smile?" he finishes, smile so fond and wide that it blinds you.

you're at a complete loss for words, the gravity of the situation beginning to settle in, when he suddenly takes out (from his coat pocket) the very keychain you had lost and sorely missed.

"i've got it. and every other thing you've misplaced for the past year."

you stare at his open palm in disbelief, eyes carefully examining the object as you take the keychain from his hands and feel its fur against your fingertips. your heart is thundering in your chest, your soulmate smiling at you so brightly.

"i'm nanami, by the way. nanami kento." he introduces himself, ever so the gentleman.

"(y/n). (y/n) (l/n)."

there's an uniterrupted beat of silence, with nanami staring at you so intensely with burning adoration and you suddenly feeling the rush of embarrassment of how much you've lost in the past year.

"oh god, did you really keep everything i've lost?" you groan, nearly whining.

he only chuckles.

"yes i did. neatly categorized and filed in my apartment." he pauses, surveying your reaction. "would you like to come up and see?"

"yes." you say too quickly, before you're shaking your head sideways in an effort to calm yourself. "i mean, yes, uh, that'd be nice."

he turns to let you in, before he turns back around abruptly, stopping you in your tracks. you stare up at him, confused.

he only smiles, soft and gentle.

"hold on." nanami says, stepping closer to you. you're overwhelmed by his scent, mix of aftershave and vanilla lavender perfume, and how gentle his hands are when he takes the turtle keychain from your left hand.

he clips it onto your bag, giving it a gentle tug to ensure it's secure.

"there. don't lose it again." he says lowly, but there's a hint of teasing to his tone.

"and if i do?" you ask quietly, teasing him back, letting him drag you through the doors of his apartment.

nanami takes your hand, but this time, he doesn't let it go.

"you can come back to me."

a/n: ahhhh my first ever fic! i'm absolutely obsessed with nanami at the moment so i wanted to write something sweet for him. i remember reading a marvel fic with this soulmate AU idea a few years ago (soulmates find each other's lost possession in their apartment) so i wanted to give it a spin.

ᯓ★ likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! ᯓ★

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ellethelynx · 1 month ago

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nanami kento dresses like he was born in a luxury boutique.

not loud, not flashy—never the type to chase trends or drip for attention—but everything about him is clean, thoughtful, expensive. timeless.

his coats are always perfectly pressed, shoulders sharp. scarves wrapped neatly, double-knotted or draped depending on the weather. leather gloves, suede shoes, watches that don’t scream for your eye but whisper wealth if you know where to look.

you notice it early in your relationship.

how he never wears anything with frayed threads. how his ties are always tied in the same precise windsor knot, centered perfectly between collar points. how his jackets hug his frame like they were tailored for no one else—and they usually are.

at first, it intimidates you. a little.

he has a coat for every season, a scarf for every temperature shift, shoes so nice you hesitate to let them near a sidewalk, and suits so well-tailored they probably sigh in relief when he puts them on. even his casualwear looks like it belongs in a catalogue. relaxed sweaters and pressed slacks, cuffed trousers and button-downs rolled up just so.

but nanami never makes you feel small about it. in fact, he lights up when you ask about his watch one morning, watches the way you turn it over in your fingers. says, “it’s from a danish brand. handcrafted. i can show you their winter catalogue, if you’re curious.”

and you think, god, he’s a nerd for this. and you love it.

he tells you he used to dress messier in university. too busy with exams to iron anything properly or think about quality over comfort, but one summer, while visiting family in copenhagen, his uncle gifted him a trench coat that fit so perfectly, nanami swore never to wear ill-fitted clothing again.

and now, years later, you watch him fasten his cufflinks with practiced ease, collar tucked just right. he brushes a speck of lint from his sleeve like it personally offended him. and you smile at him from the bed, still half-swaddled in blankets, sleepy-eyed and half-naked.

“you’re the best-dressed man in the whole city.”

“hardly,” he says, but you see the little twitch in the corner of his mouth as he steps closer to lean down and kiss your lips, “but thank you, darling.”

—

it starts with little things.

he buys you a scarf. not flashy, just a soft wool blend in a shade he says brings out your eyes. then gloves, beautifully stitched, buttery soft inside. then one day you come home and there’s a box on the coffee table with a note that simply reads:

thought this would look good on you.

—kento

you open it to find a blazer. tailored, sleek, the kind of thing that hugs your shape and makes you stand up straighter just by existing in your space. you call him immediately.

“kento. baby. did you just—did you tailor this??”

“i had your measurements,” he says, like that’s normal. “you mentioned liking double-breasted jackets. i saw this one in navy and thought of you.”

you sit down. hard.

“…you think of me when you’re shopping for suits?”

“i think of you when i breathe,” he says plainly.

you melt. obviously.

but then it keeps happening. not constantly, not overwhelmingly—but here and there, little touches of him finding their way into your wardrobe.

a delicate gold bracelet that matches the buttons on your favorite coat. a pair of loafers, elegant and comfortable, that he slips onto your feet one morning before brunch, crouching down with one knee on the floor.

“fit alright?”

“you’re dressing me like a doll,” you murmur.

“you are a doll, but i like to think that i’m dressing you like someone i love,” he says. “and someone who deserves to feel exquisite.”

you try to argue, once. halfheartedly.

“kento, i don’t need all these clothes—”

“of course you don’t. but do you like them?”

“…yes.”

“then let me give them to you.”

and it’s hard to fight when he says it like that. when he holds up a pair of pearl earrings next to your face and smiles like he’s looking at a museum piece.

“perfect,” he murmurs. “i knew they’d suit you.”

still, you do start dressing a little differently, over time. he doesn’t push you to—but because when nanami hands you a mirror and says “look at you,” in that soft, stunned way, it’s hard not to fall in love with yourself, too.

he never makes you feel like you have to change. he never critiques or compares. if you wear sweatpants all weekend, he still wraps an arm around you and kisses your head and tells you you’re beautiful.

but when you do dress up—when you wear that cream blouse he picked out, or the deep green coat you found together in a boutique downtown—he looks at you like you hung the stars.

“you’re glowing,” he says, voice thick with quiet pride.

“you’re biased,” you tease.

“i’m in love,” he replies, “which is worse.”

eventually, you start shopping together.

he teaches you about fabrics, about tailoring, about how to feel for quality in the seams. you teach him how to take style risks. how to pair color and texture in ways he wouldn’t have dared before. it’s a beautiful exchange that both of you respect dearly.

you buy him a patterned silk tie with tiny, barely noticeable flowers and he looks doubtful.

“try it,” you insist.

he does. and looks incredible.

you kiss him full on the mouth and say, “i’m a genius.”

“you are,” he agrees, breathless.

—

months later, someone at a party compliments your outfit.

“oh my god, that coat—where’s it from?”

you smile and touch the lapel, suddenly warm with affection.

“my husband picked it out.” you say, pride slipping into your tone.

across the room, nanami lifts his glass to you in a quiet toast, already watching. as always.

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