James Moriarty x Fem!Reader
word count: 3.2k
warnings: alcohol, flirtation with antagonistic undertones, classism, physical altercation, brief violence
a/n: sooooo i really was not trying to start another fic right now lol, but i’m so obsessed with all the donal finn love happening right now. i’ve adored him since hadestown (my beloved irish orpheus 🥹) and as a diehard bbc sherlock fan, even though young sherlock itself isn’t my favorite, i am OBSESSED with what he’s doing with moriarty. i literally wrote this on my lunch break and now i’m pretty sure it’s turning into a multi-chapter fic. oops hehe.
“It is with great delight that I announce this term,” Bucephalus Hodge proclaims from the front of the dining hall, his voice carrying easily over the glitter of silverware and the afternoon light pouring through the tall windows, “the opening of my new science building. A brilliant addition to this already illustrious university.”
Around you, the students practically drink in every word.
Their faces tip toward him with open admiration, eager and shining, exactly as he expects.
Your gaze drifts over the sea of upturned faces before, inevitably, landing on him.
Already, he is fixed on the dais with that razor-edged intensity that never quite leaves his expression—still as a portrait, yet never passive. There is always the suggestion of motion beneath the surface, as though his mind is three steps ahead of the room and quietly inconvenienced by having to wait for the rest of the world to catch up.
At the front of the hall, Hodge raises his glass higher. “Now, scholars… on your feet.”
The room rises in a rush of rustling robes and scraping chairs, and you stand with them, smoothing your palms over the skirts of your gown as applause swells around you.
“I present to you my Hodge Scholars,” he announces grandly to the distinguished men seated beside him. “Take a good look.”
The hall erupts, the sound rolls up into the vaulted ceiling in waves—pride and praise and blind devotion.
And through all of it, your attention catches on him once more.
This time, he is already watching you.
Beneath the brim of his cap, unruly dark curls fall over his forehead, impossible to tame, softening nothing of the keen intelligence in his face. His mouth curves—not quite a smile, something more knowing than that—and his gaze remains with a disquieting sort of amusement, as if you are the far more compelling spectacle than Hodge’s performance at the front of the room.
For one unnerving beat, it feels intentional.
Like he means for you to notice.
You are the one who looks away first, forcing your attention back to the dais just as Hodge’s voice sweeps through the hall again.
“These students,” he continues, sweeping a grand hand toward the assembled tables, “will be generals, prime ministers, leaders who guide our world into the twentieth century. Enjoy learning. Enjoy your youth. Welcome.”
Lunch resumes in a bright clatter of silverware and conversation, plates passed down the table, goblets refilled, voices rising with the easy thrill of the new term.
The girl beside you—Penny, you recall from your first introductions—nudges your arm with poorly concealed excitement.
“Is he not the most intriguing man you’ve ever seen?”
You follow the pointed tilt of her head, though of course you already know exactly who she means.
“James Moriarty. Ugh,” Penny sighs dreamily. “Even his name is spectacular.”
You let out a quiet scoff, reaching for your goblet to hide the tinge of irritation.
“Do not fall for his traps, Penny.” The warning leaves you as you risk one last glance across the table.
As though he has heard it from this distance, his eyes find yours yet again.
This time, his brows lift ever so subtly, almost teasing, almost...provoking.
You tighten your fingers around the stem of your glass.
“He is a rake.”
At last, the students are dismissed, the long tables emptying in an eager tide of robes and chatter as everyone begins funneling toward the doors for their first course of the term.
You rise with the rest, gathering your skirts as you ease into the slow-moving line of scholars winding its way out of the dining hall.
The vaulted room feels narrower now—crowded with bodies, voices, and the restless electricity of new beginnings. Penny remains at your side for another moment, prattling on about professors and schedules, before a cluster of girls sweeps her ahead, their laughter trailing brightly into the corridor beyond.
For the first time all morning, you find yourself briefly alone in the procession.
Or so you think.
“A rake, is it?”
The words arrive in a baritone beside your ear, velvet-smooth and threaded with that rich Irish lilt of his—the blurred consonants, the almost musical cadence, the amused skepticism turning each syllable into something far too intimate.
Your breath catches.
For one mortifying second, you close your eyes, already knowing exactly whose voice has slipped so effortlessly into your space.
Then, despite every better instinct, you glance over your shoulder.
James Moriarty is directly behind you.
Far too close.
Up close he is even more unnerving—the sculpted planes of his face, the clever, watchful eyes that never seem merely to look but to dissect, and that infuriating tilt at one corner of his mouth that suggests he is forever in possession of a joke no one else has yet understood.
“I confess,” he begins, his accent wrapping warmly around the words, “I had imagined a far crueler first judgment.”
The line shifts forward again in a rustle of robes and scraping shoes, forcing you onward, but he keeps perfect pace behind you, matching every step as though this, too, is some private game he has already decided he intends to win.
You face forward, schooling your features into composure even as heat prickles along the back of your neck.
“Rake was me being charitable.”
A quiet sound slips from him, somewhere between a laugh and a hum of approval.
“Was it?” he asks. “Then I should very much like to hear what you call me when you stop being kind.”
The line bottlenecks near the great doors, compressing the space until the warmth of him hovers at your back, close enough that every nerve in your body becomes newly aware of his presence.
“As first impressions go,” he continues, lowering his voice until it brushes the shell of your ear, “being called a rake by the most inscrutable girl in the hall is far more interesting than the usual simpering admiration.”
You lift your chin, refusing to grant him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.
“And what makes you think I care whether you find me interesting, Mr. Moriarty?”
That crooked smile returns, slower this time, touched with something almost wicked.
“Because,” he replies, as sunlight from the corridor slips across the angles of his face and the line inches forward again, “you kept looking.”
You let out a quiet laugh, turning just enough to meet his gaze fully now.
“You were seated at an entirely different table,” you remind him, letting challenge thread through every word. “How can you be so certain it was you I was looking at?”
For the first time, his smile opens into something openly devious.
There it is. The opening he wanted.
His gaze moves over your face with deliberate patience before returning to your eyes.
“Because,” he murmurs, his accent dropping lower, silk over steel, “every time you looked away, you did it like you’d been caught.”
For one suspended moment, the crowd seems to divide around the two of you, as though the tide of students bends instinctively around whatever current has risen here.
Then, with a calmness that feels almost insolent, James lifts a hand.
Your breath snags.
His fingers brush the tassel of your cap, the touch feather-light as he catches the silken strands between his thumb and forefinger. He lets them slide slowly through his grasp, the smallest ghost of contact grazing your temple in the process.
It is such a harmless gesture in theory.
Yet the intimacy of it lands like a spark thrown too near dry kindling.
“Enjoy class,” he whispers, far too pleased with himself.
The look in his eyes tells a different story.
He means to unsettle you.
He means to linger.
He means to see what you will do with it.
Before you can gather a reply cutting enough to leave its mark, he releases the tassel with a lazy flick of his fingers and slips past you, his shoulder brushing near enough to send another wave of heat down your spine.
Then he is gone.
Swallowed by the tide of dark robes and echoing voices pouring into the corridor beyond, as though he had never been there at all.
Except your pulse refuses the illusion.
And all through the walk to your first lesson, you can still feel the ghost of his touch near your temple—light, maddening, and altogether too easy to remember.
By the time the evening welcome gathering is in full swing, you have spent the better part of an hour artfully avoiding Peregrine’s attention.
Every time his voice drifts too near, every time you catch sight of him weaving through the crowd, you turn in the opposite direction, slipping between clusters of laughing students, ducking beneath raised glasses, letting the crush of bodies swallow you whole.
At last, after no small amount of effort, you manage to wedge yourself through the crowd and reach the bar.
At last.
Or so you think.
The bartender passes in front of you once.
Then again.
And somehow manages to look everywhere but at you.
“Excuse me?” you call, pitching your voice above the din of music and conversation.
He keeps walking.
You lean forward over the bar. “Excuse me?”
Still nothing.
A frustrated breath escapes as you tip your head back with a groan.
“For fuck’s sake.”
“Leave this with me.”
That maddening Irish accent brushes your ear once more, smooth as smoke and just as invasive.
Your eyes slide sideways and a slow sigh leaves you. “Just what I needed.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “I’m wounded.”
He mutters something to the gentleman wedged beside you, and the poor boy startles before abruptly shifting away, leaving just enough room for James to slip into the newly opened space at your side.
He moves like he belongs there.
Like he belongs anywhere he pleases.
Before you can ask what exactly he thinks he is doing, he bends over the polished wood of the bar with shameless confidence and reaches for three glasses, a bottle of whiskey, and then—
Your breath catches.
A tiny vial of something suspiciously green.
Your gaze snaps to his hand. “Is that—”
“Shhh.” He cuts in without looking at you, his voice dropping into conspiratorial softness as he tips a measured drop into the glasses.
Then he slides one toward you.
“It’s a Sazerac.”
The amber liquid catches the golden light, deceptively innocent.
You arch a brow, glancing from the drink to him. “And should I trust anything you hand me, Mr. Moriarty?”
His eyes flash with unmistakable mischief.
“Certainly not.”
He lifts his own glass.
Annoyingly, that only makes you want to take yours more.
A reluctant smile ghosts across your mouth as you raise it. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” The rim of his glass taps against yours.
Then he turns with effortless ease and lifts his drink once more toward a young man standing just beyond your shoulder.
Tall.
Strikingly out of place.
And then, as though summoned by the disturbance itself, Peregrine appears.
He cuts through the crowd with the confidence of someone convinced every room belongs to him, his expression darkening the moment his gaze lands on the unfamiliar face.
“You’re the scout,” he accuses, suspicion clipped into every word.
The young man inclines his head with maddening calm. “Indeed.”
Peregrine’s eyes narrow. “How exactly did you get in here?”
“I invited him,” James supplies smoothly before the tension can gather any further.
His tone is careless, almost bored.
The lie is so elegant it nearly sounds true.
You nearly laugh, because you know perfectly well neither of them had any formal invitation to begin with.
You take a slow, deliberate sip of your drink, letting the whiskey burn pleasantly down your throat as the silence stretches.
James parts his lips. “No one—”
“Oh, don’t be coy. I did.”
The words leave you before he can finish.
You step forward, your shoulder nearly brushing James’s as you place yourself squarely in Peregrine’s line of sight.
The lie comes easily.
Far too easily.
“He’s with me.”
For the first time since you have known him, James Moriarty goes still.
His gaze cuts sideways to you, and for once the usual devious demeanor is gone, replaced by something rarer.
Surprise.
As though he had not anticipated you to step into the game beside him. As though, for one brief and delicious moment, you have managed to wrong-foot him.
Peregrine studies the two of you, displeasure sharpening every line of his face.
“If I wished to socialise with a cleaner,” he drawls, eyeing the young man beside James with open disdain, “I should simply throw a party in the servants’ quarters.”
A laugh slips from you before you can stop it.
“That sounds infinitely more entertaining than this one.”
The scout beside James smirks into his glass, while James’s own mouth tilts with immediate approval.
“He may be a cleaner,” James replies, his accent lending the words an almost lazy elegance, “but he is an exceptionally clever cleaner.”
Peregrine’s jaw tightens.
His gaze swings back to you, irritation now fully soured into offense.
“If you do not mind,” he begins stiffly, “I should like to ask your friends here to leave.”
“I do mind, actually.”
You set your glass down and take another step forward, unable to resist the spark of sly inspiration already gathering shape.
“In fact,” you continue, a smile curving slowly at your mouth, “I have a better idea.”
Peregrine narrows his eyes.
“If you can outsmart my friends here, they will leave without protest.”
The challenge lands between you like a gauntlet thrown at his feet. For a beat, the room seems to hush around the four of you. Then James buys in at once, sliding seamlessly to your side as though the two of you have always played the same games.
“Excellent,” he purrs, eyes brightening with evident delight. “Take a good, long look at our friend here and tell us what you can glean.”
He gestures toward the scout.
“Then,” he adds, that maniacal half-smile returning in full, “he shall return the favor.”
Peregrine squares his shoulders, clearly too proud to refuse now that the trap has been set.
“And who, exactly, decides the winner?”
“Oh, I do.”
The voice cuts in crisp and amused.
Edie—Hodge’s ever-watchful assistant—steps elegantly into the circle, her gaze flicking between each of you with instant interest.
A small crowd has already begun to gather, drawn by the scent of competition.
“I should be delighted to judge.”
You glance at Peregrine, no longer bothering to hide the satisfied glint in your eye.
“On your marks,” you begin, stepping back toward James’s side.
Your shoulder brushes his.
“Get set…”
Peregrine’s attention fixes.
You tilt your head, smiling sweetly.
“Go.”
And as the game begins, you can already feel James beside you nearly humming with pleasure, as though the prospect of watching someone be publicly dismantled is his preferred form of entertainment.
Which, you suspect, it may well be.
He leans closer, just enough for the warmth of him to graze the edge of your sleeve.
“Thank you.”
You keep your eyes fixed ahead on the two young men circling each other in verbal battle, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking his way.
“I do my best work when I am owed a favor.”
“A dangerous philosophy.”
“Only for the people foolish enough to underestimate me.”
Beside you, you can feel rather than see the way he angles himself closer, his attention dividing between the contest before you and the far more private one unfolding at your side.
“And what sort of favor,” he asks, his voice lowering until every word feels poured rather than spoken, “does a girl like you collect?”
Now, finally, you turn, letting him sit in the silence. Letting him wonder.
“That depends.” Your voice stays calm despite the traitorous beat of your pulse. “How valuable do you imagine yourself to be, Mr. Moriarty?”
“Ah.” His eyes dip briefly to your mouth before returning to your own. “So that is the game.”
Your chin lifts. “Were you under the impression there wasn’t one?”
The contest in front of you continues, voices rising, laughter following each clever observation, but it feels distant now. Secondary to the charged space between your shoulder and his, where another kind of contest has quietly taken hold.
One with no clear rules.
And, more dangerously still, no obvious victor.
“I do hope,” he says, leaning in just enough for only you to hear, “you intend to make it difficult for me.”
A smile traces your lips.
“Oh, James.”
Your gaze darts toward the duel, then returns to him with quiet promise.
“I intend to make it impossible.”
The words have barely left your mouth when the crack of a fist against bone shatters the charged little world the two of you have built at the edge of the room.
Peregrine’s fist collides squarely with James’s friend’s jaw.
The sound snaps through the gathering like a gunshot.
Gasps ripple through the nearby students as the carefully curated civility of the evening dissolves into chaos.
You tilt your head toward the fight.
“I do believe your friend could use some assistance.”
Beside you, James releases the most theatrical sigh.
“Tragic. I was having such a lovely time.”
He presses his glass into your hand for safekeeping with infuriating confidence, as though there were never any doubt you would hold it for him.
Then he turns.
What happens next is almost unfairly quick.
James steps into the fray with the same graceful precision he brings to conversation, all easy balance and startling speed. Peregrine barely has time to register him before James’s fist lands cleanly across his cheek in a strike so neat it feels almost insulting.
The sound of it sends something wicked sparking to life inside you.
To your private shame—and very real bliss—a laugh tumbles free.
Another one of Peregrine’s friends lunges at James.
Misses.
Lunges again.
Misses again.
James ducks both attempts with ease, moving like he had anticipated each blow before the thought had even formed. Then, with a swift, brutal drag of his fist upward, he sends the man sprawling backward into a cluster of horrified scholars.
For good measure, James gives the next overeager fool a careless shove just as the boy works up the courage to join in, sending him stumbling into the crowd before the fight can even begin.
Show-off.
He turns back to you, curls disheveled now, breath just slightly uneven, and somehow the chaos only makes him look more alive.
“Until next time?”
You glance at the glass still in one hand, then toward the abandoned bar.
“For the road.”
You snatch up a bottle of whiskey and toss it toward him.
He catches it one-handed without looking.
That, more than anything else tonight, makes him laugh.
Then, with one last lingering look cast your way, he and his companion disappear into the flood of bodies rushing from the hall, swallowed by laughter, shouts, and the thrill of scandal.
And though the room still hums with the wreckage they leave behind, all you can think about is the certainty that next time cannot come quickly enough.
requested | by anon
summary | you thought the magical ring was the worst thing that could happen, then he showed up
pairing | hal jordan x fem! reader
a/n | reader lives in gotham for comedy purposes but doesn't have to be american. pre parallax hal. div creds to @toxisyddy
The ring was taunting you.
The magic, possibly sentient, absurdly smug little piece of jewellery was laughing at you from its new chosen residence, snug on your right middle finger. You're not sure how, but the ring's laughing at you. If rings could smile, then this one would be flashing you the biggest shit eating grin possible.
It had been following you for days, persistent despite your blatant refusals to put the damn thing on, but you'd let your guard down, and now the stupid thing was refusing to relinquish its grip on your finger.
You've spent the last few hours rapidly cycling between the first four stages of grief, including whichever one incorporated lubing up your finger and tugging at the ring until your hand slipped and you nearly broke your elbow on the now dented wall.
The only stage you refused to reach was acceptance, oh no, you were not about to let this shit slide. You were getting the ring off your now bruised and slightly swollen finger if you had to chop the damn thing off.
"You're so fuckin ugly." You hiss at it, satisfaction unfurling in your chest when it vibrates angrily.
Someone snickers from behind, prompting you to shriek and reach for the nearest weapon — a box of half-eaten cereal — and spin to launch it at the intruder.
There's a dead silence as you and the glowing man watch the cardboard collide with his chest before hitting the floor. "You've got the galaxy's greatest weapon sitting on your finger, and you go for the fruit loops?"
"Wha— Get out of my apartment!" You yelled, reaching for the next closest throwable item.
"Whoa, easy there, Captain Crunch," he holds his hands up calmly despite the grin on his face, "I'm not going to hurt you."
You scowl at him as he steps closer, but the glowstick keeps smiling indulgently, as if he were humouring a small child, which only fuels your anger.
"Oi, green loser—"
"Green Loser?!"
"I have no idea what's happening right now, but I want no part of it."
"Ok, listen here—"
"Lantern, what are you doing in Gotham?" The gravelly baritone has you sending the spatula in your hand flying, a hand reaching up to clutch your rapidly thumping heart. (There's a sick sense of satisfaction that runs through you when you notice your glowing intruder also flinch minutely.)
"Spooky, I know you're a massive control freak with an innate need to stick your nose in everything, but this is Lantern business."
"He broke into my apartment, fuck him up." You accuse, pointing a finger at the Lantern like a little kid tattling on their sibling.
"Whoa, now, there was no breaking involved." He sputtered, trying to defend himself to a leering Batman before he turned to face you once more, "You really should lock your window."
"I live on the 12th floor."
"This is Gotham."
"Touche." You acquiesced.
"Lantern." Batman sternly cut in, mouth downturned in displeasure as he stepped closer to your side, impatience vibrating under his skin.
"Seriously, spooky, this is Lantern business, so you can go ahead and leave... now..." The Lantern trailed off, slowly looking between you and the Bat now looming ominously by your side. "Hold on, do you two know each other?" He seemed aghast at the thought, amusement suddenly evaporating as he weighed the consequences of recruiting a friend of Batman.
Did Batman even have friends? What if you were a paranoid control freak like him? Fuck, he really hoped not.
"I babysit his kid sometimes." You shrugged, like that wasn't an insanely absurd sentence.
"What?"
"Robin, he flew through my window one night and refused to leave." You shrugged. "Speaking of, where is the little guy?"
"It's a school night, he's in bed."
"Then what are you doing here?" You continued to converse casually with Gotham's Dark Knight, as if there wasn't a perplexed Green Lantern looking on, questioning everything he thought he knew about Batman.
Hal watches, speechless as your face turns saccharinely sweet, lightly shoving Batman's arm (who doesn't even move an inch), "Aww, Bats, you were worried about me!"
"I'll let Mr Wayne know you'll be on leave for the foreseeable future. Robin will be by to feed the cats."
"Wait, what—" you blinked, but Batman was already gone, leaping out the window with a dramatic flick of his cape.
"Wait a second, come back! Don't leave me alone with this glowing asshole!" Your shouts fall on deaf ears, even as you're pulled away from the window and hauled over a muscular shoulder.
"What the fuck, put me down!"
"No can do, princess." You could hear the amusement in his voice, and it made you want to smash his stupidly smug face in. Before you can act on the impulse, you're forced to clutch onto him, biting back a scream as he starts flying.
The asshole has the audacity to laugh at you, shifting you in his arms so he's cradling you against his chest. Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his neck, hiding your face in his neck as you cling to him fearfully.
Vaguely, you register the wind whipping at your clothes and hair. Still, you refuse to open your eyes, focusing on the warmth of your kidnapper's chest whilst simultaneously trying to ignore the feel of his muscles beneath your palms.
Eventually, he stops, prompting you to slowly pry your face away from his chest, your breath hitching at the sight of the Earth below you.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" He hums, and though you agree, you're not about to let him know that.
"Aaaand you've ruined it." You stare at the white swirls of the clouds and the deep blue of Earth's oceans for a few more seconds before panic begins to overwhelm you once more, "Wait, how am I breathing right now?!"
"You seriously didn't notice?" he raises a brow, promptly letting you go to float on your own as he motions a hand down his body before gesturing at you.
Looking down, you nearly scream at the sight of a glowing green, black and white uniform adorning your body.
"Lesson number one, flying."
Oh, you were so going to punch his stupid, smug face.
mdni | canon divergence | multigenre | nanami x reader x higuruma
cross posting: on ao3 here.
ᝰ summary: ten years after a mission gone bad in which gojo and nanami saved your life, you go — against your will — to work at jujutsu high as a sorcerer. you just never hoped this would elicit working alongside partners, and getting too close to them might turn out messy. this is a sequence of one-shots set in the same canon divergent alternate universe, in which Reader is a sorcerer with a considerably complicated relationship with Jujutsu High.
ᝰ important info: they're all written and posted in a non-linear fashion. To keep some organized way of reading them all, the fics are listed in chronological order below. Writing in this is kind of experimental, so writing style might differ from one story to another.
ᝰ a/n: blue for Nanami focused stories | orange for Higuruma focused stories | both for both | stories with other characters have no particular color.
+ Disclaimers
- CONTAINS NSFW CONTENT. Do not proceed unless 18+!
- Contains angst, fluff, and slow burn.
- There will be more multi chapter short stories.
- The one-shots are listed in chronological order.
- I write flawed characters — and when I say flawed, I mean FLAWED. They can (and sometimes will) be idiots, assholes, mess up, make mistakes and make up. This is an important one, please don't ignore it.
- I’ve decided this will be an actual triangle (fight me)
+ One-shots, short-stories and drabbles (in chronological order of events)
To be loved is to be changed (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛😂
The day you arrived at Jujutsu High and encountered friends from the past.
These silly little memories (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛😂
You reminisce about the past while chatting with Ijichi and Yuuji.
In my shoes (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💥💔💛
You get severely injured while on one of your first missions with Nanami.
Tea for your thoughts (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛
Soft drabble where you receive tea waking up after a terrible night.
Valentine's Day and dark chocolate (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛
You bought a box of chocolates you don't really like.
Would you let me die? (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛💔💋
You and Nanami have a significant conversation, and you request something of him.
Driving lesson (Platonic Ijichi & OC/Reader) 💛😂
You asked Ijichi for some driving lessons.
Wardrobe malfunction (Light Nanami x OC/Reader) 😂
Your cursed technique isn't exactly clothing-friendly, and when you find yourself in a less than ideal situation, you only had one person you could ask for help.
Nanamin (light Nanami x OC/Reader) 😂
You ask Nanami why people keep calling him “Nanamin”.
Photo, motto! (Yuuji, Nobara and Megumi chaotic trio, light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 😂💛
Yuuji, Nobara and Megumi are shocked to learn you have no social media accounts, and decide to change that. However, things don't go as planned.
About witches and villages that hate sorcerers (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔💥
What happens when your communication gets cut off during a mission in a village, and everyone knew you went there in the wrong state of mind?
Kikufuku picnic gratitude (Platonic Gojo x OC/Reader) 💛
Your friend Satoru Gojo just had some intense news and needs company.
The search for the man in the black suit (Higuruma & OC/Reader)💥
You were assigned to find and capture Higuruma Hiromi, a curse user sentenced to death by Jujutsu higher ups. You're just not sure if he really deserves to die.
Suspended death row (0%)
Toxic endeavors (Higuruma & OC/Reader)💥💔
You and Higuruma are on your third mission together, and you save him from getting injured, putting yourself in harm's way as you do so.
Team fighting (light Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛😂
You decided to train team fighting with Higuruma in an unorthodox way.
Short story: Right, wrong and the in-between (Nanami, OC/Reader, Higuruma) 💛💔💥
You and Higuruma were assigned to investigate the disappearance of women around Shinjuku. This led to a dicey situation regarding what place Jujutsu sorcerers occupy in this world and what is their role to play when non-sorcerers get involved.
Chapters: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Epilogue
Crooked gardening (light/implied Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛
Higuruma keeps thinking about something you have done for him, and takes a walk to clear his mind.
Kindness and sunflowers (light/implied Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛😂💋
You get a drunk Higuruma safely home.
Short story: Colleagues in arms 💥
Nanami and Higuruma are dispatched to exorcize a curse together, having to conciliate their personal issues in order to get the job done.
Chapters: Single chapter
Where does your mind drift? (light Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛💔💋
After you and Nanami get stranded trying to get back to Tokyo, you both end up having a chat about your feelings.
The event, Part 1 (explicit! Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛💋🌶️
after struggling for so long with the feelings you had for nanami, your colleague and closest friend, you finally decide to put an end to your misery and confess to him. little did you know there was no misery left for you to wallow in that night — none at all.
PRIV FOR REWRITE -The event, Part 2 (Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔💋
The aftermath of The Event, Part 1. Nanami needs to have a serious talk with you.
The man who played with fire (explicit! Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛💋🌶️
After some drinks by yourself and getting frustrated with someone, you stupidly knock on Higuruma's door to test a theory.
The morning after is still last night (Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛💋
After last night, you and Higuruma share a brief pillow talk.
What if (Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛💔💋
What if the world was more forgiving, and you and Nanami never became jujutsu sorcerers?
Short story: Lover's Pass (Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛💔💥💋
You and Nanami were sent to investigate cursed activity linked to disappearances in the Lover's Pass. Meanwhile, you both still have to deal with the fallout that happened after the last time you were together.
Chapters: Single chapter
Bartender confessions (Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔
Nanami is trying to drink himself into oblivion to get his mind off of you.
Tactics (explicit! Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛💋🌶️
You and Higuruma finally go on your first not-date when you decide to give him an answer.
Human resources, tasukete! (Gojo / Shoko / Ijichi. Fluff Higuruma x OC/Reader, just crack, honestly) 💛💔😂
You're concerned and decide to ask your friends about Jujutsu High's HR policies regarding romantic relationships.
It takes one to know one (Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛💋
You and Higuruma decide to make a promise to each other.
Tie me up (explicit! Higuruma x OC/Reader) 😂💋🌶️
After failing to make a romantic dinner, you're very upset. Hiromi volunteers to “help you out” with that frustration.
Tea and coffee (Higuruma x OC/Reader, implied Nanami x OC/Reader)
💔💛😂 - You had a sleepless night and needs some caffeine to keep yourself from falling asleep before the day has even begun, so Nanami and Hiromi lend a helping hand.
Short story: Old regrets and guilt ridden pasts 💔💛💋🌶️
After you enter Hiromi's domain and he meets an acquaintance from the past, you both see yourselves confronting ancient ghosts and old regrets.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (10%)
Bread for breakfast (Higuruma x OC/Reader, implied past Nanami x OC/Reader)
💔 - Hiromi decides to walk down to a bakery he likes and have breakfast before heading to Morioka, and ends up bumping into Nanami.
Fixing broken things (implied/soft Nanami x OC/Reader)
💔💛 - After you realize that everything you were taking care of just wound up crooked anyway, you're pissed and needs a helping hand in order to not let the anger get the better of you.
Forgiveness is a collective resource (platonic Gojo & OC/Reader)
💔💛 - As you're telling Gojo about your most recent fallout, he ends up telling you in return the last question Geto posed him before leaving.
The letter (Higuruma x OC/Reader)
💔 - Reader writes a letter to an absentee.
Books and dinner (coming soon…) 40%
Unwell (implied/soft Nanami x OC/Reader)
💔💛 - you had a terrible day, but at least, you’ve got a helping hand.
Bar discoveries (coming soon…) 0%
No more patience behind the wheels (platonic Ijichi & OC/Reader)
💛😂 - your friend ijichi has become the unwilling listener to all your woes, and it is definitely taking a toll on him, so he decided to take the matters into his own hands and try to solve your communication problems for you.
Eulogy for the love remained (coming soon...) 30%
How do you say it? (soon) 0%
Bad dream (nanami x OC/reader)
💛 - after a bad night filled with nightmares, nanami is glad to see you never left his apartment.
In-office nap time (soon) 0%
The scars we carry (soon) 0%
Something’s off (soon) 0%
…
The ship of Theseus 0%
+ About and P.A.Q. (Possibly Asked Questions)
Q: How did this come to be? This came into my mind as I was thinking about my Jujutsu Kaisen Original Character, Shiori Yamada. She is from my JJK Canon Compliant fanfic, Sand and Snow. I thought: what if she came to Jujutsu High years after the events of Sand and Snow? And that's where it started.
Q: What's the difference between the short stories and the one-shots? Mostly, I usually have a long or dedicated main plot in my short stories, whereas in the one-shots, what is written is much more focused on an excerpt of the characters' interactions.
Q: what is the best way to read this? I wrote it in a way that basically all one-shots can be read as stand-alone pieces (same for each short story). Just read in the chronological order of events, as listed above.
Q: is it the same f!reader in all of these stories? Yes, it is The reader is based off of my Original Character, Shiori. I didn’t intend to make her a staple, but just liked the character too much to let it slide. I’ll eventually make a reference sheet with her story (as soon as I finish Sand and Snow, to avoid spoilers).
+ Relevant updates + Notes
other updates can be checked on the reblog section
Playlist (a.k.a. stuff I listen to when writing these): ♪ Want me too - Mons Vi / ♪ Heart's a Mess - Gotye / ♪ It's gonna rain - Bonnie Pink / ♪ I love you so - The Walters / ♪ Ichigo Batake de Tsukamaete - Sunny Day Service / ♪ Setsuna - Sunny Day Service / ♪ For Emma - Bon Iver / ♪ Break - alex_g_offline / ♪ My love, mine all mine - Mitski / ♪ Babooshka - Kate Bush / ♪ One last kiss - Hikaru Utada / ♪ Tactics - The Yellow Monkey / ♪ Mr. Deja Vu - Naja / ♪ Stuck on the puzzle - Arctic Monkeys / ♪ We’re all eating each other - Julie Ivy / ♪ Head Over Feet - Alanis Morissette (HiguReader specific) / ♪ Nothing in my way - Keane (NanaReader specific) / ♪ I bet on losing dogs - Mitski / ♪ Chamber of reflection - Your Anxiety Buddy (cover) / ♪ Sunny - Yorushika / ♪ Sayonara Bye Bye - Matsuko Mawatari / ♪ Misery - Maroon 5 / ♪ First love/Late spring - Mitski / ♪ Heart skipped a beat - The XX
ׂ╰┈➤ You can listen to the full playlist here (on YouTube).
Update + Mar 26, 2024
I just decided to list all one-shots and short-stories together. Seemed more simple and efficient.
Update + Mar. 23, 2024
There are some things I want to put here because as an anxious writer, I like when other writers do this.
1. this is my COPIUM from the trauma I have endured during JJK (thanks Gege), so no matter what, THERE WILL BE A HAPPY ENDING for all characters. I just like the bumpy road, makes the happiness at the end feel worthwhile.
2. I decided to one-shot the ending. However, the long fic based off of this universe will probably have a slightly different and bigger one. There are many things (protagonist’s power journey, lore, her backstory, actual big plot that I have planned, etc) that I really want to write on the long fic, and didn’t find a way of doing so in these one-shots and short stories.
3. I don’t know if you’ve seen it, but I began cross posting these on AO3. The link is on the top.
4. The Big Sad™ and The Big Feels™ are about to get started. I’ll just finish up some one-shots first and then proceed with them. There will be angst, but a lot of fluff too.
Commentary
Random thoughts and fun facts from the author that absolutely no one asked for but I wanted to write anyway
Themes are... guilt, forgiveness, grief, and life after loss, I guess? Idk, I like writing characters interacting and growing with each other, so I just give them their trauma and let them work through it.
I first got inspired to write HiguReader when I listened to “Loser, Baby” from Hazbin Hotel. They’re both so over Jujutsu High’s shit and vibe on that shared contempt that I just loved the concept of it.
I was terrified writing my first smut piece (The Man who Played with Fire), and I’m astonished at how well it was received. You guys are the best, seriously.
I got inspired by some very talented authors on this site to write non-explicit sex scenes, and will try doing it in two or three one-shots, where there is sex involved, but I don’t think smut would fit very well.
Writing smut as a demisexual person is an entire experience, let’s just say that.
From the very beginning, I just found it impossible in my heart to ship or even hint at shipping OC/Reader and Gojo. Also, as a NM person who doesn’t appreciate rigid hierarchy of romantic x platonic relationships, I wanted to write more on becoming friends with Gojo. However, from what I could see when writing these fics and shorts, this will end up mostly in the long fic.
I STRUGGLE with headers so damn much. I don’t like using fanart (shy to ask for permission), and finding good fitting anime frames/manga panels is usually a little difficult without becoming too repetitive. I’ll just try my best making headers for the AU stories moving forward.
I like writing strong, capable, willful female characters who are secure of themselves and have got some rizz iykwim. Dainty female characters are really not my thing when it comes to writing.
Writing in 2nd person is still a challenge for me. I was used to writing in 1st person in a Lispectoresque style when I wrote ten years ago.
word count: 5.2k
warnings: none ?
summary: nanami's never cared much for flowers until he steps foot in her shop and suddenly he's an avid gift giver of luxurious bouquets.
a/n: this is for the anon that sent me a brainrot so good i blacked out, wrote this, and will prolly receive hate in the future as it's the only nanami piece i will (probably) ever write </3
___
The first time Nanami Kento steps foot into that tiny flower shop, he treats it more as an errand than anything else.
Shoko was throwing a little get-together later that evening- something about a creepy discovery she’d made during an autopsy that excited her, truthfully Nanami tried not to pay too much attention to the gruesome details she’d shared- and he didn’t want to show up empty handed. Utahime had already declared she was bringing the champagne, Gojo covered the catering from some fine dining restaurant Nanami had never even heard of, and it seemed as though flowers were the best he could come up with.
Still, being the thoughtful gentleman he was, he figured he might as well splurge on a well crafted bouquet, rather than the cheap banded wilting things at the grocery store.
Despite being right next door to his favorite bakery in Tokyo, he’d never had an interest to poke around the little shop. There had never really been an occasion for him to buy flowers, and he wasn’t exactly the kind of guy to pick some up just to freshen up his office or dining room table. If anything, once the little bell above the door jingles to signal his entry, he feels incredibly out of place. The shop is tiny, and covered nearly ceiling to floor in bright blooms of plants he’s never even seen before.
A soft but cheery “Welcome in!” comes from the wall where there are two clerks working away with nothing short of joy on their faces. The first is cashing someone out at the register, handing over a plastic wrapped bundle of what he assumes are tulips but he’s not quite sure. The other being the one who greeted him, and-
Nanami freezes, which is out of character enough to make his face feel warm and his heart stutter in his chest. The other clerk, a woman who seemed to be playing rather than working on the bouquet before her. As quick as she was to welcome the new customer, she was just as quick to return to rearranging the bundle of purple and white flowers before her. She doesn’t even seem to notice the way Nanami stands in the doorway struck by awe as he watches her over-analyze the way each petal pushes against one another.
After a second too long of staring he realizes how creepy he’s being, and he makes a beeline for the opposite side of the shop, hoping no one around caught the way he’d shamelessly stared at a complete stranger, much less a woman simply trying to do her job. She didn’t need some random customer ogling her- he wasn’t Gojo.
He pretends to glance over the array of pre-arranged bouquets on the far wall. Pretend, as in technically he’s looking at them but he’s not really paying any attention. His mind is still buzzing with that lingering haze of love at first sight wondrous surprise. Eventually he settles for an arrangement of red roses. Roses were always a safe bet to go with, right? It’s not like Shoko screamed ‘flower lover’ in her offputting demeanor. As he’s carrying the bouquet to the front, he’s starting to second guess the whole thing.
Shoko would definitely smirk in his face for bringing such a silly gift to her party. She’d probably start laughing if he told her that he was purposefully waiting for the pretty clerk who’d greeted him to cash him out- wait, what-?
“All set?”
He tries to cover the way his eyes widen when she slides the project in her vase aside and beckons him to step up to his counter. The other counter was completely open, and he could feel the way the second clerk stared at him in bewilderment as he’d ignored the universal sign for ‘my register is open’. But Nanami is not as smooth as he’d like to be, and he can tell by the uptick in the corner of her mouth that she’s amused by his frozen stature.
“Yes- yeah, just this,” He feels like a teenager for stammering over his words, but she pays it no mind. Her movements are overly gentle as she takes the bundle of roses from his hands, treating the bouquet with the utmost care, as though it were a newborn child.
His eyes glance down the nametag on her apron quickly, hoping she wouldn’t notice his sudden urge to put a name to the pretty face. (y/n). Certainly fitting. Even her apron is embroidered with little colorful threads of cartoonish flowers. Peeking at the apron of the other employee and finding nothing but a little bee pin secured next to their name tag, he wonders if she embroidered those flowers herself.
“These are beautiful, they’re going to love them,” She’s speaking again and Nanami finds himself standing up a little straighter. “Would you like them wrapped up in a special way? I have tissue and ribbon” She offers with a smile that has all of the blood rushing towards his face. He prays it’s not noticeable.
“Uh- that’s probably not… no, I don’t think so” He replies awkwardly, and she can’t help but laugh a bit at his uncertainty.
“First time buying flowers for someone?” She asks, and he watches as she pulls open a drawer beside her and plucks out a sheet of white tissue paper with just the faintest bits of glitter sparkling on it.
“That obvious?” He mumbles, and he hopes it comes across more playful than embarrassed, but deep down, Nanami knows it’s the latter.
(y/n) chuckles again, expertly crafting the tissue to fit around the bouquet in a flattering way. She makes it look easy, the way the paper folds to her will neatly. It’s a simple task, but Nanami knows if he’d tried it himself, the tissue would wrinkle and it wouldn’t look nearly as flattering as she presents it.
“You’re not the first man to pick out the first bouquet of roses he sees,” SHe teases gently. “No offense though, these are gorgeous. I have to say I really outdid myself”
“You grow them all yourself?” Nanami asks, and instantly regrets it. Is that a stupid question? Do all florists grow their own supply? He hadn’t a clue on the inner workings of the flower market.
“I sure do!” Her reply is cheerful, and the question seems a little less stupid. “There’s a greenhouse out back, but between you and me,” She lowers her voice like she’s about to tell him a grave secret. Her eyes lock on his with an intensity Nanami thinks could rival Gojo’s. “My best work comes from my own garden at home” She confesses.
Nanami can’t help the way it cracks a smile out of him, especially when she grins widely and finishes up his bouquet with a pretty string of red ribbon. Even the way she curls it with the sharp edge of a pair of shears is done to perfection. He really had to hand it to her for her craftsmanship.
He pays, making sure to tip a generous amount on the card reader, even if it is purely because she’d seemed to sweep him off his feet in less than two minutes of conversation.
“She’ll be very excited to receive these, they’re absolutely perfect” (y/n) says, handing the bouquet back to him with just as much grace as before. Nanami finds himself moving slowly, careful not to crinkle a single edge of the tissue.
“I don’t know about that, I don’t think she even likes flowers,” Nanami says as he glances over the red petals smiling up at him. The implication of the statement doesn’t hit him until a moment too late, and he looks back up at (y/n) almost too quickly, his eyes widened slightly as he tries to backtrack. “She’s a friend- a, uh, colleague sort of friend. She’s celebrating something and I… really didn’t know what to bring” It’s a lame explanation, and he finds himself fubbing the back of his neck and hoping he doesn’t come across like some slimy liar trying to cover his tracks.
“Oh! I see. I just assumed, because, you know…” (y/n) laughs softly as she gestures to the roses. Nanami follows the gesture before glancing back at her, his confusion evident. “Cause roses are usually a symbol of romance. Well, the symbol of romance, really” She explains.
His eyes widen further and she can’t help but laugh a little more. Everything about her new customer amused her, and she didn’t usually spend so much time chatting with people that weren’t trying to chat with her, but she couldn’t help but want to drag the conversation on just a little bit longer.
“Oh god,” Nanami mutters, staring down at the roses with a newfound dislike for them. “They’re going to laugh at me”
“No, no, they won’t,” (y/n) quickly shakes her head. “I’m sure your friend will think it’s sweet. She’ll understand. It’s a very kind gesture”
He can tell just by looking at her that her words are genuine, she’s not just saying them to make him feel better. Her eyes gleam as she nods at him encouragingly.
“Alright,” He sighs, giving the roses one last once over to make sure he’s not making a grave mistake. “But if they laugh I’m not getting the fancy paper next time”
Her cheeks bloom with color, next time, she repeats in her mind, and there’s an undeniable flutter in her chest at the sentiment. She nods back at him with certainty.
“If they laugh, then I’ll help you pick out an appropriate bouquet, next time” She promises, and again he can’t explain it, but Nanami knows she absolutely means it.
His smile is soft, so unbelievably velvety soft as he nods and bids her a good day before making his way back out of the shop.
That night as expected, Shoko does make a weird face when he offers up the bouquet of flowers. She gives him a tease he sees coming from a mile away- ‘Kento, flowers? I didn’t think you would know where to find these’- which makes the rest of the group laugh as well. He decides he’ll gloss over that fact on his next visit to the flower shop.
___
His second visit to the flower shop, he realizes too late that he doesn’t have a decent reason for picking up a pricey bouquet of flowers. As he wanders around aimlessly while (y/n’s) busy wrapping another pretty bundle for a customer, he thinks maybe she wouldn’t even ask what the occasion is.
“Hey,”
And then she’s standing right next to him as he’s eyeing a clump of purple bundles that smells divine. The smile on her face is one of clear recognition, and it makes his chest warm that she’d remember him, much less approach him first.
“So, what’s the special occasion this time?”
And of course her first question is that one. He would smack a hand to his face if it wasn’t so embarrassing. She’s probably asking because he failed so miserably at picking out a proper bouquet last time, and he has to give her credit for offering him help, even though he’s struggling to come up with a half decent response.
But before he can stop himself, he’s saying,
“It’s my mom’s birthday”
Which is an odd choice of lie. He hadn’t seen his mother in years, and her birthday had passed months ago. But that’s what he comes up with, and it’s not exactly the worst lie, but the cringe he makes as soon as it leaves his mouth isn’t all that hidden.
“That’s nice,” (y/n) beams at the thought. “Do you know what she likes?”
The way his face pales answers her question plenty, and she chuckles a bit as her eyes begin to wander the shop. “No problem, I have just the thing,” She beckons him to follow her as she wanders off a bit. “She’s an aquarius, so the safe bet is orchids,”
He’s not even sure what she’s saying, but he nods along like he understands perfectly.
“I have these, if you like white,” She suggests, and he eyes the pretty thin stems with white flowers budding off of them. Oh, so those were orchids. Then her eyes light up, and without thinking, she reaches out and places a hand on his arm with her excitement. “But I just brought in some blue ones from home, it was too cold to keep them there, would you like to see those?”
He actually doesn’t need any flowers at all, so worrying about the color was far from his mind.
“Blue sounds lovely” He gives her a nod and as he thought she might, she grins before rushing off to the back of the shop. He blames the way his skin tingles from where her tough had just left him even from under two layers of clothes.
As he slowly makes his way to the front to await her blue orchids, he glances around the shop a bit more. Every single plant his eyes land on looks like they’ve been loved to the fullest extent. Bright blooms of color cover every inch of space, every counter, shelf, and hook on the ceiling has a well loved clump of flowers occupying it. Nanami can name roses and daisies, and he thinks the purple flowers he’d been eyeing earlier was lavender, but most of what fills this shop looks like a completely new plant he’d never discovered before.
He wonders how much of her life (y/n’s) spent mastering her craft, because clearly, not a single sprout of life looks untouched or forgotten.
“Here you are,” She comes back out with a beam even wider than before as she holds up her precious blue orchids proudly. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”
He hums in agreement, his face warm as he barely even casts a glance at the bundle in her hands. It might be obvious and cheesy, but he can’t exactly help it.
“Or were you looking at something else?” (y/n) asks, nodding to the hanging pot his eyes had been focused on before she’d come back out. “The star jasmine is also lovely, but they can be tough to take care of at first”
Again, he barely casts his gaze towards the pot before he’s turning back to her again, an amused little smile on his face.
“Could you really name every plant in here?” He asks, and he knows it’s a dumb question by the way she laughs, loudly, as if he’d made the funniest joke she’s heard in ages.
“Of course I could, it’s my job” She reminds him, and he nods, humming to himself thoughtfully as his gaze flickers across the shop.
“How about those then?” He points to a small pot of pinkish-purple flowers challengingly. (y/n) glances at them before turning her attention back to him, raising a brow.
“Those would be cosmos” She says slowly, but matter of factly. Nanami doesn’t necessarily have a way to fact check her, so he quickly points to another pot.
“And those?”
“Gazanias” She barely had to look at them to give him her answer.
Nanami sighs as he turns back to her in defeat, and her smile crinkles the corners of her eyes.
“Not much fun of a game, is it?” She teases with a quiet laugh.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t have underestimated you” He replies, and she shrugs a shoulder at him, her eyes falling to her prized blue orchids in her hands. Absent-mindedly, she pokes and prods at a few stems, ensuring they were healthy before she passed them off to the handsome customer.
“It’s been a slow afternoon, you could have underestimated me a little longer if you’d like,” She says, only half joking. Nanami breathes out a laugh of amusement. He’s not sure if she’s flirting with him or just being playful, but from the way his heart skips a beat he certainly hopes she is flirting. “Anyways,” (y/n) clears her throat, reminding herself to go back to the task at hand. “I think your mother would adore these. I certainly do”
“Those it is, then” He affirms, and she eagerly circles around the counter, already gathering a few pieces of tissue paper she deemed pretty enough to pair with the rich blues of the flower.
“So now you’re a flower-gifting kind of guy, hm?” She asks him as she carefully wraps the thin sheets around the stems of the orchids. “The roses must’ve gone over well, then?”
Nanami chuckles, tucking his hands into his pockets. More or less, he thinks.
“It might be a bit of a copout, if I’m being honest,” He admits. “I don’t really know what else to give her. But I’m an only child, so, I kind of have the responsibility to step it up”
“That’s alright,” (y/n) hums, her focus completely on making sure the flowers are as presentable as can be. “Flowers are always a thoughtful gift. Especially mine, got it?” It’s the only time she looks up at him while wrapping up the orchids, a threatening expression on her face. “Don’t go to the other shops in town, they’re sellouts, got it?”
He laughs at her seriousness, before crossing his hand over his chest in an x motion.
“I didn’t know there was a flower shop turf war here in the shopping district” He muses. (y/n) huffs as she carefully moves about a few stems so each one would fall just so.
“Well, there is,” She mumbles like an afterthought.
There’s the tiniest of creases between her brows, and Nanami wants to tell her not to worry so much over this bouquet, seeing as he doesn’t know what he’s going to do with it once he’s home, but he has a feeling the sentiment would fall on deaf ears. She seems quite lost in her arranging.
“And besides, I gotta make sure I have loyal customers, don’t I?” She adds once she’s finished, and her serious expression crumbles into one of softness as she gazes up at him again.
“Whatever it takes” Nanami hums in agreement. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too foolishly, but he’s not sure it helps his case.
“What’s your name, anyways?”
He’s not sure why, but the simple question takes him aback, as though it were as forward as asking for his phone number. He hesitates too long, he knows by the way she lightly raises a brow at the way he pauses before he answers.
“Nanami, Kento” Even his answer is slow, but she hums and nods at him nonetheless, as though engraving it to memory on the spot.
“Nanami Kento,”
She extends her hand as she repeats the name, and it takes every ounce of will he has left to keep a shiver from crawling down his spine. He didn’t think his name could sound so sweet on another person’s voice before. He raises his hand to shake hers politely, trying not to focus too hard on how soft her small hand feels when fitted against his. His noticeably larger hand encases hers almost completely.
“I’m (y/l/n) (y/n),” She introduces, as if her name hadn’t been circling around his mind in the couple of weeks since he’d last been here. “But everyone just calls me (y/n)”
“Alright, (y/n),” He muses, and he wonders if she’d felt just as warm repeating his name as he did finally saying hers aloud. “You can just call me Kento, then”
She smiles, and the color in her cheeks is undeniable. He almost forgets to release her hand.
Once the orchids are perfectly bundled up, she passes them across the counter, the tips of her fingers just barely brushing over his knuckles as they both handle the bouquet with great care.
“How much do I owe you for these?”
“Oh, they’re on the house,” She waves a dismissive hand, and she can tell by the way he frowns that he’s going to argue, so she’s quick to keep speaking. “They’re not even in inventory, they won’t be missed. They’ll be of much better use as a gift to your mother, anyways”
“I don’t consider that fair-”
“I won’t accept a single cent,” She tells him boldly, her hands on her hips, and he wonders if this is her idea of scolding. That cute furrow in her brow and the slight pout on her lips as she glares at him. It’s downright adorable and yet again, she’s seized his heart. “Now go, you can’t arrive late on your own mother’s birthday” She waves her hand in a shooing motion towards the door.
God, he’s going to hell for this lie.
“Alright, alright,” He chuckles as he backs away, slowly heading for the door. “I’ll let you know how much she loves them”
(y/n) leans across the counter as she watches him go, her face burning with her lingering blush as she shamelessly admires him while he’s not looking.
“Come back soon, Kento!” She calls just as he’s stepped out.
He turns just as the door shuts behind him, catching her eye through the front window. She’s smiling with utter glee as she waves at him, and this time he can’t hold back his smile as he waves back.
___
The third time he enters the flower shop, he has a better lie in mind. The ruse of gift giving had worked perfectly so far, he might as well stick with it.
“Nanami Kento!”
(y/n) welcomes him by name as soon as he walks in, and a rush of warmth spreads over him so quickly he thinks the other clerk working beside her is chuckling to themselves because of him.
(y/n) says something to her coworker before coming around the corner to approach him properly. Her hair is tied in a messy bun on top of her head today, and it appeared she’d had some fun with a few little flowers sticking out of it. He smiles as he admires the adorable look before he greets her.
“Afternoon, (y/n),” He replies warmly. “Do you actually do any real work here?” He asks, nodding to the endearingly chaotic hairstyle.
“It pays to have a job you enjoy, right?” She asks. “What do you do? Are you a time traveler?” She giggles through the question, the sound tinkly and so, so cute he thinks his knees could give out.
When she gestures back at him, it dawns on him that he’s left his sunglasses on his face. He’s quick to pluck them off and tuck them into the pocket on the inside of his jacket.
“They’re odd, I know” He says, and hopes she won’t press further questions. He’s had to lie about enough, what he does for work is an enigma even to him some days.
“I like em,” She shrugs. “They make your whole business man thing look a bit more… steampunk” She waves her hands around the rest of his attire, and he can’t help but chuckle as he glances down at himself.
When he’d gone into the workforce he found he had preferred a business casual look more than the stuffy scratchy collars of the typical sorcerer’s uniform. He’d matured a lot in that time, too, and after outgrowing his… emo… phase, found that a little pop of collar looked better on him than being swamped in black.
What’s funny was that what she called business man, Gojo liked to call flashy.
“Steampunk?” He repeats curiously. “In a good way or a bad way?”
“Depends,” She shrugs again, eyeing him skeptically. “Are you planning on buying a bouquet today?”
“I was, yes” He nods.
“Then in a good way,” She grins, and when he rolls his eyes at her in good nature, she only laughs more. “Well tell me, who’s the lucky recipient this time?”
If he could get away with it, he’d happily stare at the way she smiles at him for hours. Her hands clasped behind her back, the way her pretty eyes peer up at him from under her lashes, small splashes of color swirling within (y/e/c) irises. Nanami can’t recall the last time he’d taken such a strong favor over another person, and in this moment if you’d asked, he’d tell you he’d never felt anything of the sort. But her lips are plump and glossy today, and seeing them curled upwards so warmly, and for him, it has him in a chokehold.
He was growing so fond of her he almost couldn’t stand it anymore. He could almost see that line he was trying not to trip across, because if he did step over it and into the unknown freefall that was complete and utter adoration… the thought terrifies him.
The invisible rose colored glasses that remained perched on his nose drove him to murmuring out today’s white lie before thinking about the credibility of it.
“My sister,” He finally answers. “She’s got a promotion at work, and now I know the perfect secret in gift giving for women-”
“I thought you were an only child?”
Her brow furrows just slightly as she interrupts him with her question, a curiosity flickering over her features that has Nanami paling in an instant. A part of him wants to be flattered that she’d remembered such a minor detail about his life that he’d given her a couple of weeks ago, but the anxiety that encompasses him as she’s caught him in his lie is a far more looming feeling. He can feel sweat prick on the back of his neck right away.
The longer he hesitates to answer, the more expectant the look on her face is. Slowly her eyebrows begin to raise, and her head tilts to the side ever so slightly.
“I… I am,” He starts slowly, hoping to stall until he finds the right explanation. “I don’t know why I said that, um, what I… what I meant to say…” Unfortunately, he was as bad at stalling as he is at lying.
Through his terrible stammering, (y/n’s) perplexed expression starts to morph into something else. The corner of her lips quirk up before she bites back her smile, pressing her lips together in a thin line. She tries to hide it, but her smile is evident in the way her cheekbones raise, and the corners of her eyes crinkle ever so slightly. She’s amused. And Nanami’s not sure what startles him more, being caught in the lie, or the way she’s entertained by his scrambling.
“Nanami Kento, if you want to pop in just to see me, you can,” She tells him, and when she speaks there’s no chance of concealing the way her smile brightens her entire face. “You don’t have to make up a sister just to come in”
There’s some relief in knowing she isn’t upset, but it’s quickly eaten up by his nerves from her blatant tease. His collar feels hot on his neck, and he’s certain that as soon as he leaves, he’ll have to loosen his tie.
It doesn’t help that the other clerk in the store had been obviously watching the entire interaction behind a large display vase of carnations. Here and there they’d been snickering into their hand, surely also entertained by how terrible at this Nanami is.
“You’re right, I… I don’t know why I did that,” He chuckles bashfully. (y/n) only glows brighter upon him fessing up to it. “I did just… want to come and see you”
She rocks on her feet a few times, her cheeks beginning to bloom with color.
“Well I’m glad you did,” She admits softly. “You’re my favorite customer, you know”
Nanami cracks a smile at that, some of the nerves starting to melt away the more he entertains the idea of crossing the blurring line between them.
“That simply can’t be true, I’ve only ever bought one bouquet” He reminds her, and she laughs a bit at the reminder.
“Alright, so you’re a flaky customer, but my favorite nonetheless,” She compromises. “Besides, you said you were picking one up today, no takesies backsies”
“Are you five?” He chuckles, but she waves her hand dismissively, ignoring the comment completely.
“What are you looking for today, Kento?” She changes the subject.
He thinks to himself for a moment, eyes flickering around the shop to see what stuck out to him.
Nanami Kento wasn’t necessarily a shy man, but he wasn’t the man that made the bold move. That would be Gojo. He also wasn’t the one to play coy until the other party eventually gave in either. That was Shoko’s move. Even after having a few short relationships or flings throughout the years, he never really made the first move. Things sort of just… happened.
Now, he thinks it might be just the right time to make the bold move.
He still has to take a deep breath before he does, though.
“Depends,” He muses, glancing back at her. “Which do you like best? I want to give you the right arrangement before dinner”
___
bonus:
They’re standing at the entrance to her building when she finally brings up the elephant in the room that had followed them for the entire evening.
“You know, it’s pretty corny to give me flowers that I grew from my store”
“It was a good line, sweetheart, I’m going to stand by that,” He chuckles back at her. “And you picked them” He adds, gesturing to the pretty bouquet of lilies of the valley tucked carefully in her arm.
“Forgive me for not being able to turn down pretty flowers from a handsome man” She replies playfully, and for once he manages to maintain control of himself as he gives her a gentle smile.
“Do you flirt with all of your customers to keep them coming back?” He replies coolly, and the giggle that escapes her is anything but coy. Just pure, genuine joy.
She settles the bouquet safely in her arms before tilting forward on the tips of her toes. It does little to nothing to shorten their height difference, but she’s close enough now that Nanami can practically taste the strawberry on her breath left from their dessert. Common sense escapes him briefly as he follows suit, bending closer almost all the way. The sudden movement startles her, her eyes widening and falling to watch his lips, curious if he’d actually kiss her so suddenly. She smiles when he pauses just before his lips could touch hers, and her gaze flickers back up to his eyes.
“No,” She answers his question in a breath of a whisper. “Just my favorite ones”
He chuckles a bit at the cheeky answer, but he’s over the playful banter. His hand, calloused, but warm and welcoming, reaches out to her chin, fingers gently tipping her head upwards just a little more, before he slides his palm across her cheek.
The question is on the tip of his tongue, but her eyes are already fluttering shut and she’s already closing the remaining space between them. He supposes when her lips blindly land on his, he doesn’t need to ask for permission to kiss her goodnight.
___
when the love you once lost, came back into your arms again,"
content warnings: jjk shibuya arc spoilers, angst, fluff if you really squint, little dialogues, going through grief and depression, pure pain, just reader's life through her perspective, implied major character death, bittersweet, depictions of the afterlife, happy ending (i promise)
wc: 4,933
note: i'll just be letting my feelings out because we're about to mourn LMAO enjoy!
inspired by and best enjoyed with: this love by taylor swift
October 31, 2018
when you heard a knock on the door, you expected kento to great you with a smile on his face and a sweet kiss to your lips.
but what you got instead is shoko right in front of your doorstep, giving you the news that your fiancée lost his life in the middle of the war across shibuya— then you felt like your world had crumbled right before your very eyes. he had promised. he had promised to come home to you tonight and come trick-or-treating and give the kids around the neighborhood some candies.
kento never breaks his promises, especially when it comes to you.
but there's always a first time, as they say.
you felt your knees turn into jelly as you fall onto the floor, eyes wide, and heart incredibly shattered. you couldn't believe what you were hearing, this must be a sick fucking joke. there's no way the love of your life is just gone like that. he doesn't fucking deserve this.
"i'm so sorry, y/n," you hear shoko said as she guides your limp body to sit on the couch but you could hardly hear her between your ragged breaths and the ringing in your ears.
what would her apology do anyway? would that sorry bring him back? would that bring him to your arms once again?
you feel your eyes swell with tears and let them fall off as they please. you wail in shoko's arms, you let out the loudest screams you ever let out in your entire life but none of those did anything to the amount of pain your heart is currently bearing. and for shoko, who has seen a fair share of gore and violence in her life, has never been so disturbed and heartbroken when she saw you wept and mourn for your lover.
that night when shoko left you on your own (not that she had the choice), you drank the fruit flavored champagne you usually sip with kento as he enjoys his whiskey, downing it like it was water but it tasted different.
there's this saying that alcohol tasted better when you're happy and around the people you cherish the most.
your sweet champagne started to taste bitter ever since, and a part of you died that day.
the days have gotten colder.
you miss the way kento's arms would wrap around you, you miss the warmth that he provided, something the heater in your shared home couldn't give.
you feel empty, everything has gone silent, and you hate it. at times like this, when kento is home, you would hear him hum with the vinyl he chose to listen to going along the silent rustle of either the newspaper or a book he had been looking forward to read.
now it's just silence. it's all new to you. you almost even forgot how your voice sounded like because you had no one to talk to.
for the past few weeks, your family and friends, even shoko had visited you to make sure you were okay. but whenever they try to initiate a conversation, they only get either a curt nod or nothing. they have also noticed the change you have been going through. the usual sparkle in your eyes gone, you've gone extremely quiet, your appetite has drastically changed, but they understood nonetheless.
a few days ago, with the help of his family and from the mercy of any entity that existed out there, the jujutsu tech was able to retrieve kento's body, whatever is left, that is— cremated him and finally held a proper burial. that's the least he deserves.
you asked if you could keep some of his ashes in a little urn, and his family, bless their hearts, agreed as they know that both of you share the pain of losing a loved one. there, it sits in his study together with his pictured frame. another one also sits on your chest, a necklace that holds some of your beloved. a piece of reminder that you and him will still be together.
you walk towards back to the living room, seeing the mess that has been made because truthfully speaking, cleaning up the house was the least pf your problems when you had a lot going through. it has been really rough. every night, at 7 pm, you yearn for the knock of your door, kento's voice declaring his arrival, "hon, i'm home," he would usually say.
now, it's all gone. the clothes he had worn the previous days still in the laundry bags, untouched, for the fear that his scent might go away.
it scares you. the thought of forgetting the sound of his voice, his smell, his warmth, his company, not being near your reach, terrifies you to the core. but you have to face it all. put on a brave face, live on a life where he doesn't exist anymore. but deep in your bones, your heart, and your soul.
he's still around.
he should be. he promised eternal life with you, willingly get on one knee to put on the prettiest engagement ring you had ever seen.
the saddest part is, he wouldn't be able to see you walk down the aisle. both of you had dreamt of a wedding so perfect. you designing your own gown that would compliment his, a small wedding enough for your family and closest friends, and a honeymoon trip to malaysia where you could just bask in each other's presence, forgetting everything and savor each moment.
he had promised you forever.
and kento never lies.
but then again, there's always a first time.
it has been months. nothing has changed.
you still feel so empty. nothing has changed around the house either. sure, the living room is clean enough but the bedroom you once shared with kento stayed the same.
you refuse to wash his clothes that was in the laundry basket, you refused to wash the bedsheets, you refused to even make up his side of the bed. and despite how much you missed him, you refuse to sleep on his side of the bed, fearing that sleeping over his scent would lose him completely. it was exhausting to yearn for someone you know is not going back, but you do it anyway.
from the tailoring shop you own, many bride-to-be's are going in and out to pick out wedding dresses with their pretty engagement rings decorating their hand. it feels like a slap to the face, angering even. why do these women have to be so happy picking out the perfect wedding gown while you're out there sulking, stuck with what if's and what could have been.
what could have been your gown? his suit? what could have your wedding venue look like? what could have happen in your honeymoon?
and when you realize that it will always stay that way, it fills you with envy, but more so with sorrow.
it's so unfair to be mad at these people who were lucky enough to find the one but you couldn't help it.
you just also hate the pity smiles they give you when you answer their question, "when's your wedding?" once they caught a glimpse of the engagement ring kento gave you with, "my fiancée passed away," with a forced smile on your face. you're just thankful they don't push you to answer any more questions.
the ring kento gave you is one thing that you will never remove. aside from your necklace, this is a reminder that kento loved you enough to propose, to ask your hand in marriage. that may not be enough considering your situation, but it is something, so you keep it around anyway.
when the shop has finally closed for the day, you come home, sit on his study and sketch more of the wedding dress ideas that you had on your what could have been wedding with kento. you have gone through almost 3 journals sketching everything aside from the dresses. it was venues, suits that he could've worn, your dress, and of course sketches of the both of you walking down the aisle.
whenever you sketch, a tear falls down, then another, and another, until you cry a river all over the page, not caring if the lead from the pencil is barely there due to the wet pages or the ink from your pen is smudging. when you go back to the pages, you see it. you don't mind that it has become messy, it represents the feelings that you have. the yearning, the grieving, the sorrow of a what could've been wife to a what could've been husband.
more months pass by and it's still the same.
it's empty, it's all routine. you wake up, wash your face from the dried tears that you wept from the night before, shower, get dressed, go to kento's study just to admire his face from the picture frame where his urn is placed and say your goodbyes as you kiss his pretty face through the the frame and off you go to work.
it's clockwork, but you don't mind. it's one of the few things that kept you sane, but a deep burning hole in your heart still fire ablaze, waiting to be set off. you doubt it will happen, but some coping might help, so you pretend that you don't mind.
when the night comes, you still prepare meals enough for two, it's muscle memory, you seem to master making portions of two and you plan to keep it that way. it's one of the only ways that keeps you alive. you either save the other half on the fridge or give them to your neighbors.
you had also convinced yourself to wash the bedsheets, but you always remember to spray kento's cologne on his side so it feels like he never left, but his clothes on the laundry basket remains untouched. you have gone through multiple bottles of his favorite perfume from spraying almost every surface of the house, it's expensive but it doesn't matter. as long as it helps to keep his memory, you don't mind.
your friends and family visit you from time to time, to check up on you. they know you're just putting a smile on your face, it's obvious, because your eyes don't shine like they used to, but that's fine enough for them. they also noticed how the house strongly smells like him, but they don't complain anyway.
and as you close your eyes, you take one careful sniff of his pillow that you have grown accustomed to embracing every night (but you know it doesn't feel the same but it would suffice), and drift yourself to sleep as quiet tears fall down.
today is a pretty quiet day. you took a week off from the shop but you're lucky enough that your sister is more than willing to help you. you've been doing nothing but cleaning around the house, watching shows, doing strolls across the neighborhood, visiting parks, and mostly sleeping. it wasn't the most productive way of spending your days off but these are just the things you do with kento when he was still... alive.
it was usually lively when you do it, but now it's quite different. the hums he would usually do to accompany the vinyl he is playing and the quiet rustle whenever he turns a page on his books, all gone. the silence is so loud that you could swear you can hear a hair pin drop. you could only hear the swirls of the fan and your breaths.
it's silent but it's deafening.
you stood up from the couch and decided to spend some time in his study. these months, you had been spending a lot of time there, doing whatever you can to bring some life into it.
kento has always been an organized man, not a speck of dust present or a single item misplaced. but ever since, you always thought that it looked like no one was there to inhabit it anymore. so, with a silent apology, you try rearranging things around, keep his lounge and study chair warm but that's about it.
once you entered his study, you remembered that kento has a lot of books left unread. he has been planning to get around and read it. but now he can't, the thought just broke your heart.
skimming through his shelves that was adorned with many books, one caught your eye. it was slightly misplaced, leaning towards another book with a bookmark sticking out.
kim jiyoung, born 1982, it read.
you remember this book.
October 24, 2018
"dear," kento had called out as you were scrolling through your phone with your head on his lap.
"you should read this book sometime, i think you'll like it," he said, making the book cover more visible so you can read the title.
"kim jiyoung, born 1982?" you read out loud.
"yeah, it's a very powerful book from what i've read so far, i think you'll feel the same way about it,"
you hummed, with the busy schedule around the shop, you're not so sure, "i'll borrow it from you when i finally have the time, besides, you can finish reading it first and tell me your thoughts about it, how's that sound?" you say with a smile on your face.
"sounds like a plan, but i can read it a lot to you right now?"
you like the idea he proposed, his voice is relaxing so you definitely won't mind.
"okay, but i like it better when you read it to me anyway,"
a small smile escaped from kento's lips as a playfully scoffs, "whatever you say."
you hear him clear his throat before reading, "when jiyoung was in fiftth grade..."
for the next few pages, you felt your eyes grow heavier as you heard his soothing voice grow quiet and let yourself drift asleep.
you regret sleeping on his voice that day. if you would've known it was the last time you would hear him read a book to you, you would've listened more attentively, record his voice, and listen some more. you feel your lips quiver as you feel tears threatening to leave your eyes.
you pick up the book and opened the page where the bookmark sits and you realize he's almost halfway through. you remember him saying that he'll get back to reading it after halloween once his schedule opens up.
guess that will never happen.
you sit on the lounge chair on the drawer where his urn and picture frame is placed. through shaky hands, you remove the bookmark and open the book wider.
"kento, i'm sorry if my voice isn't as soothing as yours but i will try and help you finish this, so just listen and relax, alright?" you voice is shaky and cracking, and you hope he won't mind, you he will listen just like you did, you hope he closes his eyes and rest wherever he is.
after releasing a ragged sigh, you read, "jiyoung's mother received information that the new..."
as you read through the pages, your ready becomes more and more sloppy, sometimes having to repeat sentences or words when you feel like you didn't say them properly. some of its pages soaked with your tears, and take deep breathes when the pain is caught up in your throat. you give kento a silent apology for ruining his books.
and you hope it's enough, because that's all you can do.
hope.
from then on, you finish book after book during your free time, slowly going through the unread books across his shelves. as time passes by, you may have gone through a lot of his books but reading them never goes easier. every time, you would flood the pages with tears, your breaths are never steady, and by the end of every reading, you would hug the book and close your eyes, sometimes creasing some of its parts.
and you hope he doesn't mind.
July 03, 2019
this is his first birthday that you would have to celebrate alone. and the thought breaks your heart.
as you set the cake on the table beside his picture frame and light the numbered candles.
you blankly at the flames on the cake. he would've been 28 today.
you take a very deep breath and started to sing.
"happy birthday to you," tears started forming in your eyes, singing the song out of tune and through your shaky breaths, "happy birthday to you,"
"happy birthday, my dearest kento," you take another deep breath.
"happy birthday to you." you sang for the last time before blowing out his candles.
another deep sigh. you kiss the pendant that sits on your chest, "i love you," and then the engagement ring on your ring finger, "so, so, much."
from then on, every time the 3rd of july comes around the corner, it becomes clockwork. you sing, blow the candles, kiss the pendant and the ring, and eat the cake all alone.
it never gets any better, though.
through the years you watch the numbers from the candles grow older.
but you know deep inside he doesn't. the ticking of his clock has stopped.
and so did yours.
October 31, 2019
you dreaded this day to come. on the same year, you managed to come across both of kento's firsts.
his first birthday without him celebrating with you and his first death anniversary.
ever since his funeral, you never had the will in you to actually visit his grave, where his family decided to bury his ashes. you were a coward, you admit.
but losing someone you loved the most is never that easy to get over with.
having to come face to face with your lover's grave is no easy task. you touch the tombstone where his name is engraved.
Nanami Kento
July 03, 1990-October 31, 2018
your soul will always be in our hearts
you sit onto the green grass, put your arms on his tombstone and rested your head over it.
for a while it was silent.
until a rain of tears eventually dropped.
"you're so unfair, kento," you said. your voice hoarse but considerably unnoticed as the pain took over. "you said you'd come home to me, but you didn't," you don't care if there were other people around you, you need to let go of the bottled-up feelings you had for the past year. and so you wail, and wail, and wail, and yell about how much of an asshole he is for leaving you alone. cursing every entity that exists for not protecting your beloved enough. the anger through your voice seeps in but you know deep inside that he's not an asshole. you're just mad and you don't have any way to cope but this.
but your cries have been met with silence, a daily reminder that he's really not here with you. and it breaks you.
"i love you so much, i miss you so much, i'm sorry for being mean. rest well, my beloved, you have done so much." you say and seal it with a kiss before going back home, if you could still call it that.
every year when this dreaded day arrives, you pick yourself up and go to his gravesite. but this time, you spend your time telling him new hobbies you picked up on, adventures you've gone through, and stories that you have already told him before.
when he was still around, he would ask some questions and reply with either a comment or a laugh.
but this time you were only met with silence.
conversations with him never sounded the same.
20XX
years had gone by without him. you didn't know how you did it either. every day is a new pain that you have to face but you suck it up anyway.
tonight is just a typical night, you were tired from managing the shop and just finished reading kento a book. nonetheless, you prepare yourself a meal as you feel your stomach growling.
as you sit down at the dinner table, you notice something incredibly wrong.
this is the first time you have prepared a portion enough for one.
that thought alone terrified you to the core.
every night you miss his voice still. you wish the voice messages that he left you on the phone would suffice but they didn't. through the phone, his voice doesn't sound as soft and as caring compared to what you usually hear when he's around. but it's not like you can do anything about it, can you?
you have gone through every voice message that he sent you, hundreds and hundreds of them, but you never get tired of it. it has been your lullaby for the past years. you convince yourself that this is the same as when you hear his words fresh from his lips, but you know it's not. it will never be the same. you miss the sound of his actual voice. every laughter, every chuckle, every syllable that escapes his mouth, you miss it.
the sound from your device isn't as comforting as it was, and it scares you to think that at some point, you will forget what his actual voice sounds like. you didn't like that thought one bit.
he had flooded your senses. his touch, his smell, his voice, his love, it had invade all of you and has become a part of you and you're afraid that one of those will be forgotten so you desperately try to keep everything alive.
even when he's not.
you're old now. wrinkles have adorned your whole body and you're not as strong as you used to.
but your love towards kento remained the same. it has become stronger, in fact. being old sometimes makes your memories a bit blurry but everything about your lover is something that you could never forget.
you browse through your photos in the album that has been left. you stroke through his pictures like you can still feel the heat through his skin. you miss the feel of his sharp features and the soft gaze of his eyes. you miss the way he would kiss every part of you and show you how much he loves you in every way possible.
everything still feels like it's yesterday. while everybody moved on, you stayed. deep inside you're still living in a time where kento was existing. you know he would've loved your nephews, nieces, and your grandchildren.
after him, you never loved anyone. you could never love anyone other than him. how could you, when he's all that plagued your mind, you keep on trying to keep his legacy alive, not a part of him forgotten, that he will always be remembered.
you've been diagnosed a chronic heart disease, but whenever a pain pangs in your heart, you're sure it's not your illness, but the pain of being left alone by a lover who swore to stay by your side.
you know you don't have much time left, and you have come to terms with it, happy, even. you want to meet your lover once again. you want to see kento right before your very eyes and reach him just like you did in your youth.
so by the summer, you have decided to visit kuantan, malaysia with your family.
it's the place you wanted to avoid the most but you know now for sure you're brave enough to visit it. he would've wanted you to go here, he wanted to go here. even if you're a little late, you're glad to make it just in time.
your eldest granddaughter have been guiding you along the shore. you bask in the fresh air and the sound of the waves from the ocean. every thing is so peaceful, but you wish kento was here to witness it with you.
you inhale the air with a weak smile in your face.
one of your nephews then had helped you tuck in for the night.
it was so peaceful. and for the first time in years, you have finally let out a big and genuine smile.
you feel your eyes getting heavy and you know it's going to be the last. and you've never felt any happier.
October 31, 20XX
you have finally died twice.
you were finally buried next to the love of your life.
in your funeral, your family used the picture you took a long time ago, back when you were 27, mourning and incredibly heartbroken for the lost of your lover.
the kind elderly photographer from the studio you took your photo from was confused as to why you could have been taking one while you're young and looking healthy.
"i don't want to pry sweetheart, but if you're still young and healthy, why are you taking a picture now?" she asked, but you don't mind it one bit.
"when i die i want to look like me and my husband were the same age," you answered with a big smile on your face.
since i too, died that day, you would add but decided against it.
the lady seems taken aback but appreciates the sentiment behind it anyway.
you let out a wide smile so that when both of your pictures are put beside each other, it would look like the one you wore when he was still around.
when you opened your eyes, you were greeted by the blue sky and a fresh breeze of air. you felt the grass tickle against your skin and it was pleasant. when you get up, you feel your body get lighter, it's as if you weren't old, that you were back from your youth. you looked on your arms and every wrinkle that you remember being present there was all gone.
you look around you and you see a very pleasant scenery. there were trees around and from far away, the splashes of the ocean can be heard. for some reason, everything feels light, including your heart. some butterflies swarm around you like you were a flower, you reach your hand out, letting some of them sit on the tip of your finger.
you were enjoying the company of the butterflies and taking in the beautiful scene before you.
"darling,"
you hear a very familiar voice, and your eyes immediately widen
this isn't a dream right? this is really happening, right?
you whip your head towards the direction of the voice and there you see it.
your lover, your soul, the love of your life, nanami kento.
he looks so ethereal, so peaceful, especially with the soft smile spread across his face.
you're dumbfounded but you take a step, and then another, and another, until you ran your way across the grassy field and leap into his arms. and it was—
oh.
it was so warm. just like how you remembered. you feel your tears fall from your face and weep as you bury your face on the crook of his neck. you decide to take it all in. you inhale his scent, one you have been longing for years, your hug tightens around him. oh he feels so warm. so, so, warm. it's like time has never gone by.
"i'm so sorry," kento said, apology obvious from his voice, "i'm so sorry i was weak—"
"no!" you say as you immediately face him.
"do not say that darling, don't, i know you have fought long and hard enough," you carefully lift your hand to touch his pretty face. you were shaking but you were careful, like he was something fragile, something you're afraid to break. when you finally place it on his face, he immediately leans towards your touch. "t-this is real, right?" he nods, his smile growing much wider, "we don't have to be apart any longer," kento declared with full confidence.
that sentence alone urged you to chase his lips onto yours, the kiss was full of yearning, it was passionate but never aggressive. all of those years, you share silent longings and the hurt between your lips. kento pulled you deeper into the kiss but he was careful enough to handle you gently. every apology was spilled onto both of your lips as you felt tears stream across his face, and that's how you knew he longed for you as you did for him.
without words, you knew how much kento appreciated you for keeping his memories alive. it was enough for you to know that he listened to every word you let out as you read the books in his study, every word that you sang during his birthdays, and every word that you let out whenever you visited his grave. he knew all of it. he watched you weep in sorrow which broke his heart because he doesn't know how to comfort you, but he greatly loved and cherished every gesture. and so, it is his turn to return all of it back to you.
and he now has forever to give you.
without words, you know what his lips spelled against yours.
i love you.
for once, the love that was once lost, the love that you had to let go free—
finally came back to you.
both of you have finally turned 28.
and once again, the clock started ticking until eternal ends.
another note: this is officially the first fic i wrote and i hope everyone enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. i feel like this piece will always be so dear in my heart. rest in peace, my beloved nanami kento, you have fought long and hard.
Summary: A single moment can spark a magnificent change in a person’s life.
A/N: Peaky Blinders AU! Ewan Mitchell OC x fem! Reader
Tom Bennett Masterlist
The sound of laughter reached her ears as Y/N walked through Tommy’s front door. She shed her coat, the hand on her waist leaving to shut the door behind them. Will took it off her hands, hanging it on the coat rack in the entrance hall. The warmth in the house quickly chased the cold biting away at her face and hands as she glanced around at the twinkling of the decorations in the hall.
“You made it.” Ada smiled, catching her eye from down the hall. Her heels clicked against the floorboards.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Y/N smiled, embracing the woman.
“Glad to see you’re together.” Ada smiled knowingly, glancing at Will stood close to Y/N’s side.
“Hardly leave her side these days.” Will smiled, his mouth curling upwards.
“Tommy didn’t say anything about plus ones, but I just assumed-uh-” he coughed.
“I’m quiet sure the boys would be disappointed had you not have come.”
“I didn’t need much convincing.” Will smirked, glancing down at Y/N.
Y/N gaped at him, withholding a blush as Ada pulled her arm down the hall. “Come along. They’re waiting for us.”
“How long has that been going on?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Ada narrowed her eyes at the woman. “You don’t think I believe that, do you?”
Y/N shrugged, embracing the hyper children running around them with a huff. “Aunt Y/N!”
“Merry Christmas, Karl.” she smiled, crouching down to his height. “I’ve got something for you, but you have to promise one thing.” she hummed, tickling his side. “I’m your favourite, if anyone asks?”
“Yes!” he giggled.
She picked him up off the floor, tucking him against her hip. A figure leaned against the door, watching the interaction from afar with a soft expression. Will watched as she helped Karl rip open the packaging to the gift, revealing the toy as the boy screamed in excitement. The other children ran around the room, the living space filled with the sound of laughter and voices. He watched her fondly, thinking over the pure happiness in her expression as she spoke gently to the children, pulling them into her warm hugs.
The thud of heavy footsteps reached the room, the rest of the boys filtering into the space. A hand clasped his shoulder, bringing Will’s attention back. “Good to see you, Will. Take it that Y/N made sure you got here.”
“Wouldn’t have left without me.” Will replied, clasping Tommy’s arm.
“You’re welcome any time.”
A round of laughter reached his ears before a body launched into his, arms circling his shoulders. “Will! Come at just the right time!” Arthur shouted, Finn’s laughter reaching his ears. “Now the fun can begin.”
“Depends on what you define as fun.” Will retorted.
“Finn, go get the bottles out.” Arthur slinked his arm around Will’s shoulder.
“There’ll be no more of that.” Tommy declined. “You’re already out of it.”
“I’m fine, gotta make sure there’s enough ‘round.” Arthur’s chest shook with laughter, teetering on his feet as he scrutinised him. “How did our dear Y/N/N convince you to come? Didn’t think this would be your scene.”
“You’re pissed, mate.” Will laughed, agreeing with Tommy.
“Ahh, but you didn’t deny it.”
“Leave the lad alone.” Tommy said, clasping Arthur’s shoulder to push him into a seat. The man refused, wobblily on his feet. He almost fell over, if not for Will and Tommy balancing the man. They worked together to settle him into a chair.
A hand brushed his arm, causing Will to draw his gaze to the figure at his side. “Can I grab you for a moment? I need help sorting the cake.”
“No greeting for your host?”
“Merry Christmas, Tommy.” she grinned, fluttering to pull the man into a hug. He gently hugged her, tapping her back as he gestured for them to leave. “Go on.”
“Thanks.” she pulled Will to the kitchen.
“Was that a real request of an excuse?” Will asked as they reached the kitchen.
Y/N flickered around the kitchen, pulling together the necessary items. “I do have to sort the cake.”
“Wouldn’t Ada be more suited to this?”
Y/N narrowed her eyes, laughing as she shook her head. “But I wanted you to help me.”
Will raised his eyebrows, a chuckle leaving his mouth as he circled to stand behind her, closing her into the table. “Right.” he hummed, “Where’s all this confidence coming from?”
“I thought I didn’t have to pretend anymore.”
“Pretend?”
“That my heart doesn’t stop when you walk into a room.” she breathed, glancing up at him through her eyelashes. “That I can breathe when you look at me. You’re handsome and you know it.”
“It’s part of my act, right?” he playfully narrowed his eyes.
“I don’t have to pretend that I’m not in love you.”
A silence filled the air as they breathed each other in. Will was stunned to speak, staring at her with a softened expression. A wonder brewed in his blue eyes, simmering until it poured into into a grey that was only obvious to her. She, who was familiar with the small parts of Will that he had not laid privy for just anyone to see.
“I’ve adored you from the first day.” Will whispered, his voice caressing her ear, “I’ll love you until the last.”
He pressed his lips to her’s softly, patiently as his hands met her waist. Her heart skipped a beat as she felt the all-consuming attention of his touch flutter across her skin. He deepened the kiss, tilting her head upward with his fingers in that way that left her breathless. Her hands circled around his neck, pulling Will impossibly closer in the privacy of the kitchen, ignorant to the party going on outside.
“How long do you think we can stay here?”
“Probably not much longer.” a voice tore them from the moment.
Y/N stared as Polly stood in the doorway, a smirk on her lips. “I see there’s been a development.”
Ever the shy one of the pair, Y/N stuttered and fluttered her hands away from Will’s shoulders. “Pol, we-”
“I’m glad you’re happy.” Polly said, “Joining the party?”
“We’ll come round now.” Will smiled.
Y/N pulled her lips into a tight line, but couldn’t restrain the smile that grew on her lips as Will tugged her by the waist into his chest. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s just...different. I’ve never really been with anyone before. Not in this kind of way. Not anyone that they’ve met.”
Will softened, bringing her to his chest. “I’m honoured, then.”
They pulled into the main room, spotting the children settled around a projector a as a film played. The adults were scattered around the couches and tables. Tommy and Arthur looked up at their entrance, catching their intertwined hands.
“About time.” Tommy murmured as they settled on the couch next to him.
Finn slid up behind them, slapping Arthur’s shoulder. “Been waiting for months for one of you to break.”
Arthur sighed, pulling a bundle of notes out of his jacket for Finn, the boy sliding them into his pocket.
“What’s that about?” Y/N asked.
“We had a bet.” Arthur replied, “I thought it was gonna be earlier, but you lot drew it out.”
“I guess I should save my thanks for you both, then.” Will said, turning to her. “Wouldn’t have this job without either of you. Couldn’t have met Y/N, otherwise.”
“You were the best man for the job. And I know you’ll take good care of our Y/N.” Tommy said, recognising that care and reverence in his eyes for her. A look of endearment only reserved for her.
“I will. I always will.” he looked at her. The strum of the music filled the room as it crackled from the Gramophone. An elated sound left her mouth as Y/N grasped Will’s hand.
“I love this song.”
He tugged her to stand, pulling her close as they moved around the empty space. “We’ve got to dance, then. Don’t we?”
Her laughter filled his ears as they crossed the space, a flourish of wild moves and twirls.
Finding the perfect partner was the key, it seemed. The person matched to your wit and charm. The person responsible for that flutter in your stomach, the stirring of nerves and thoughts and feelings that consumed your body and mind. The one person responsible for holding and carrying the weight of your heart.
Summary: A single moment can spark a magnificent change in a person’s life.
A/N: Peaky Blinders AU! Ewan Mitchell OC x fem! Reader
The rustling from the floor below wakes her from sleep. She shuffles off the bed, wandering to the stairwell as she listens for the noise. The light but quick footsteps set her at ease at Will’s presence.
Clutching the railing, she slowly glides to the source of the noises in the kitchen. The light is warm, but blaring in comparison to the darkness of her bedroom at the hour. Squinting, she peered at the sight of Will rummaging through the cupboard, a hand gripping the bench.
“Will?” she asked, gasping lightly at the sight of blood on his hands. Will turned around, his blue eyes meeting her. There was a splatter across his cheek, along with a bruise that kissed right under his eye. She couldn’t see any other injuries from the distance. This did nothing to sway the thunder of her heartbeat.
“W-What happened?” she stepped closer as he tried to hide his hands from her. Y/N shook her head, wearing a doe-eyed expression as she carefully walked to him. “Is that your blood?”
“No.” He finally spoke.
“Are you hurt?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Can you please talk to me?” she sighed.
“Depends on if you can accept the answer.” his voice was low, cautious of her reaction.
“The truth is preferred.” she spoke softly. “Though, I will always listen to what you have to say. Even if its not the entire truth. I can wait.”
For now, he was the silent one, stunned by her understanding. Not a reaction he was expecting after turning up at her home in such a state.
“Will?” she spoke his name and he shut his eyes, breathing in the way she recited his name. He nodded, finally. It had been a tough night for him, and the tightening in his throat wasn’t helping the situation either.
“Right. I’ll be alright.”
His eyes fluttered open at the hand grasping his. He met her comforting smile, “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”
Will blinked at her, breathing evenly. “Yeah.”
She led him into her bedroom, finding the kit of bandages and a bottle of alcohol. He stood in the middle of the room, staring at the unmade bed and flickered to her expectant stare.
“Sit.” Y/N placed her hand on his arm, urging him to sit on the bed. Despite the thoughts rushing through her mind as she opened the bottle. Her knees met the floorboards and she ignored his eyes, falling onto his bruised knuckles.
If she hadn’t had her fair share of witnessing the boys fight, as the Shelbys had, she would have gasped at the appalling state of his hands. The red staining his hands, the splatters coating his palms. A gasp reached her ears as Will grasped his side, shuffling on the bed. Her concerned eyes searched for his, softening at the pain he tried to hide behind his stoic expression.
“Who did this to you?” she whispered, dabbing the blood with the cloth. “Did you get into a fight?”
“Ran into trouble.” his answer was short.
She paused as he clenched his hand, the stinging from the alcohol growing stronger. “On your way out?”
He clenched his jaw, nodding. “A few stragglers looking for it. Outside the pub.”
“You’re not one to get into fights. There must be some reason.”
“They were mouthing. They deserved it.”
“Over what?” she asked, concerned with the sudden change of character.
“They were saying disrespectful things. Things I won’t repeat.”
She flickered to the fury in his eyes, “About who?”
He exhaled, staring into her doe-eyed look. “You.”
Her jaw fell open, as she repeated the word. “Me? What could-” she gasped, confused about the entire ordeal. “What’d they say to make you get into it with them?”
“Don’t ask me to repeat any of it. I won’t be doing that.” his voice was steadier.
“Will, you don’t need to be doing that. Any of it.”
“Why? It’s my job isn’t it? To protect you--”
She tilted her head, a tight smile hiding her true hurt. “You know--I don’t think its in your job description to fight for me. Not in that way and all.”
“I wasn’t gonna walk away if that’s you’re suggesting. Let them talk about you like that.”
She sighed, coming to a halt. “You’re not my boyfriend, or my husband, you don’t need to be getting into fights for me.”
“What?”
Y/N finally released his hand, rising to her feet. “It’s true.”
Will tilted his head, his warm breath hitting her face. A silence followed and she waited with bated breaths for his response.
“I don’t know how to make this any clearer.” he breathed, standing up. “I protect you, because its my job. I care for you, because...”
Her heart thudded faster in her chest as she waited on his words. Will ducked his head, his blonde hair falling onto his forehead. “If you think I don’t care for you-- that I don’t love you, than I’ve been going ‘bout this all wrong.”
She exhaled shakily at the explanation, her head spinning as his blue eyes poured into her’s. Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out were gasps of repeated words.
“You--” she gasped, shaking her head slightly, “What?”
Will swallowed his saliva, tilting his head at her stunned reaction. “I love you.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, convinced after the events of the night and the past months.
Will cupped her face, his thumbs caressing her face as he repeated the words once again. He expressed each of them, holding her gaze to emphasise his intentions. “I love you.”
She all but melted under his hold, breath shaky at hearing the words she desired. They met in the middle, bated breaths melding into a soft kiss. He was patient, their lips melding into a soft embrace that had her falling into his touch. Her heart shook at the soft caress of his hands, deepening the kiss until they broke apart for air. They stood in her room, her hands on his chest and his on her waist, simply existing in each other’s arms for the moment.
“I’ve loved you since I first saw you across the room.” Y/N whispered.
Summary: Being the eldest daughter of a Duke and Duchess means that Lady Y/N has been prepared for society; to fulfil her duties as the next heir to her family name and estate. However, she dreams of so much more than that, particularly, finding someone she truly loves rather than a political match. Intrigue sparks an idea with the introduction of Tom Bennett, a soldier she meets on a Press tour - forming a new relationship that could either make or break her apart should things turn against her favour.
Pairing: Tom Bennett x fem! reader
After all that time, it was finally their turn to rest. Without a moment of questioning the hour. Returning to an empty room, alone. Nor a lengthy journey across cities. It wasn’t a question of time spent apart causing their feelings to depart. Or a matter of wondering whether they were okay. If they were alive. Now, they could exist in each other’s arms with the knowledge they were together.
That they were alive and here with one another. More than simply existing, but holding onto a promise. Despite the work of fate and time, Tom was able to come back home to her, even if for a short time.
They sat there against the bedrest in the shared bedroom. Lois had left that morning to allow them some semblance of privacy so they could talk. She rest against her head on him, a hand on his chest to feel the thump of his heart. He broke the silence with a soft whisper.
“Were you worried about me?”
She peered up at him. “Since the moment you left.”
Tom blinked, hoping to reassure her. “I’m alright, love.”
Tears glistened in her eyes as she spoke, “I always think about you--worrying if you’re okay.”
“I worry about you too.” he murmured, caressing her arm. “It hurt. Having to leave.”
It was after weeks of no news and hearing his ship was attacked that almost sent her into a down-spiral. The only comfort was in being in his arms where he could remind her of the steadiness of his heart. She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. “I spoke with my parents.”
Tom fell silent, listening to her. She explained how her father apologised for his actions and how he was eager to rectify it. Y/N hoped that meant they were moving to accept them; their relationship. She saw they were willing to become better. To see how their daughter felt for him and accept him.
“It’s you.” she confessed. “Its always been you.” Not that they hadn’t spoken similar words to each other before. This was a necessary step to branch the gap. The hurt that had come from the space between them.
Tom softened at her words, blinking at her. He had waited a long time to hear those words. To satisfy that part that they were meant for each other. He wanted to reassure her, but they promised to be honest with each other--even if the truth would hurt. Nonetheless, he couldn’t look in her eyes when the hurt followed.
“Dad says I have to go back.” his lips formed a tight line, restraining from trembling. “They won’t take me.” speaking of the pacifists.
He didn’t want to return to the bloodshed and death on those ships. It could very well be one of the last things he did if he returned. Tom didn’t have much of a choice in it all, otherwise the repercussions of deserting were the alternate. His eyes glossed over with tears but a hand caressed his cheek, ebbing the strain from his temples away.
“Then I’ll wait for you.” she said. Tom peered down at her from his perched arm with surprise lighting his eyes.
“I don’t know how long I’ll gone this time.” his eyes searched her face.
She shook her head, despite the pain in her chest. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I-I...” he breathed, a hint of something else in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before. Fear, as he hesitated. “I’m afraid this time. What if-”
“-Don’t.” her voice strained. “Don’t say that.”
He sighed, tilting his head. “Nothing is certain.”
She gripped his hand. “I’ll wait for you.”
“Even after this?” he whispered. “Even knowing how much it hurts.
“For you, I would.” she blinked away at the tears in her eyes. “There’s no one else for me, except you. I don’t care how long I have to wait, as long as you come back to me, Tom.”
The tender moment filtered into a silence that was only filled by the singing of their hearts. The calm serenity of the rain pattering the background, the warmth of his body against her’s.
Tom unclenched his jaw, nodding. “I will. I’ll come back to you.”
“You promise?” she asked, holding onto his words as he leaned closer, tugging her at the waist.
“Promise.” he replied, melding his lips against her’s.
***
The reel winds, the shuttering sound flickering off before it settles and the pictures begin to move. The clusters of white, black and grey settle and melded into the frame. The camera shook slightly before settling on a far off image. Its was a vast landscape revealing the ocean and the beach.
The camera turned and focused on a figure in the distance, standing in the water along the shoreline. The woman’s hair fluttered in the wind, her skirt billowing around her as she holds the ends above her shins to save from the water. She glanced around before settling on the camera, a great smile growing on her lips. A knowing look in her eyes as she leaves it behind, walking over to the person holding the camera.
“Hello gorgeous.” Tom voiced. His words cause her face to flush. “No! Don’t run away.”
A smile lit her face as she batted away his hands, reaching for the camera to flip it around. “Here we are today. We decided on a walk about. What time is it?”
“Around half past four.” Tom replied, the slightest upturn of his lips as he glanced to look at his surroundings. “Not anyone in sight. Just us.”
“Just how I like it.” Y/N said, a giggle bubbling from her chest. “This is my favourite place.”
“I thought you’re favourite place was with the horses.” he retorted.
“No. My favourite place is where you are.” she replied, catching the way his eyes lit up in realisation, the slightest flush to his cheeks. That great smile she loved arrived and she chuckled. “Now who’s blushing?”
Tom’s hand darted out to grab the camera, the sound of her laughter bubbling through the sound feed. He pulled it, resting it down to lean against something on the sand a far bit from them. Y/N settled on a blanket, Tom’s feet carrying him to sit next to her.
He pulled her into his chest, the woman resting there comfortably. The wind gently blew her hair around, Tom’s brushing against his forehead. It was a silent moment, save for the words that couldn’t be picked up between the lovers. The words they murmured to each other in the quiet especially meant for them and no one else. As they made promises to each other and held onto them, pledging to keep them even when the odds seemed stacked high.
He had brushed the hair from her face, cupping her jaw as he looked down at her. She looked up as he leaned in, pressing his lips to her forehead. And she rested against his chest, allowing herself to rest in the safety of his arms. To memorise these soft parts of him meant entirely for her, until the next moment they join hands.
Summary: A single moment can spark a magnificent change in a person’s life.
A/N: Peaky Blinders AU! Ewan Mitchell OC x fem! Reader
The bar bustled with excited shouts and the piano that evening. The lads were celebrating another profitable deal with drinks and games. Everyone was there in attendance that night, including all of the Shelby family. Of course, Y/N made sure that Will was there. He’d become quite close with Arthur and Finn over time.
Y/N grabbed her glass from the bar, watching the joyous shouts from Arthur and Finn. The groups laughter reached from her all the way across the room. A humoured grin grew on her lips as she sipped her water. While she didn’t drink herself, she found humour in watching the rest of them get absolutely wasted...although the fall out wasn’t entirely great when she had to deal with them on occasion.
Y/N glanced up at the person standing over her shoulder, flushing at Will’s expectant smile. She mustered a sheepish smile, “Hi.”
“Hi.” he leaned against the bar, facing the room.
“Why aren’t you with them?” she gestured at the group.
“You looked lonely. Thought I'd keep you company.
She raised her eyebrows, staring into her drink. “I’m perfectly fine. You can go on, I know you want."
He stared at her with a look of disbelief.
“Why are you giving me that look?”
“Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”
She let out an exasperated sound, unsure of the answer to give him. “I’m used to being alone. I’m content with it.”
“Why?” he met her gaze. "Is there a reason?"
“Do you ever feel like-” she paused, trying to trade the words from her mouth. “Like people are judging you? Whether consciously or subconsciously-you can just tell. It’s something I’ve noticed since I was a girl. I prefer my own company most of the time. There's nothing wrong with that."
“Why’d you ever agree to let me live with you then?”
There was a hesitation there along with his curiosities growing. Y/N flickered to study his face, feeling calm in his presence. “I don’t feel that way when you’re around.” she traced the edge of the cup, “I’m not too sure why it’s different, but it just is.”
“You could’ve said no, but you didn’t.” he pointed out.
“You’ve met Tommy. Don’t act like I had much choice in the matter.” she teased.
“I think with the right motivations, you could make anything happen.”
She flushed under his gaze, as he appreciated her flustered state for the moment. Her mouth gaped, a huffed laugh escaped her lips.
“Right.” she traced her eyes to his lips, “And if I asked you something, then. Would you do it?”
“Technically, yes.” remembering Tommy’s order to meet each and every one of her requests. “I do what you ask."
"Why is that?" She asked, wanting to hear him say it.
"It's my job."
"So in practice, I could ask you...anything." Her voice trailed off at the end.
“Yes.” his low voice tickled her ears, curious as to where she was going with it. The new found confidence in her demeanour was surprising. “What’s on your mind?”
“Exactly." He blinked, looking down at her with a smirk.
He was, but that seemed a bit too on the nose.
“A few things.”
His words sent shivers along her skin as her jaw fell open, a shaky breath escaping. Meeting his blue eyes sent her off kilter as she almost fell apart. The emotion in his voice wasn’t what she was expecting, her heart shuddering in her chest. Many things rushed through her mind, the first foremost being that she had hopelessly fallen for him.
Will was now leaning closer to her, his face inches from her’s. Their breaths mixed together, the rest of the part melding into the background so it was just the two of them. “Ask me, then."
"I'm yours."
“What do you mean?" she pondered in astonishment, her voice below a whisper.
"I can't be any clearer."
The loud laughter from the boys shook her from the daze, Will pausing right above her lips. She could feel the brush of his warm breath as she turned to the side, blinking at disturbance.
She didn’t know if it was on her interpretation of his words, or something more hopeful on her part. Y/N stared at him, still unassured. Will pressed forward, his face growing closer. She watched, eyes half-lidded as his lips grew closer and she thought her heart would implode--
It wouldn’t last. It couldn't.
For a moment, it felt right. That was before she realised the absurdity of it all as life kept finding ways to tease her. Things like this weren’t meant for her. She knew that from the beginning. Lost in her feelings, she had acted foolishly for weeks. She had been afraid that falling too hard, once again, would leave her heartbroken. The domesticity was nice while it lasted, but having fallen in love with someone who couldn’t possibly reciprocate was the far cry she refused to accept. She had men flirt with before, and sure she had feelings for others. This, however, was the first time she truly felt for someone this deeply. She was not foolish enough to believe it would work out as she dreamt. Y/N had some dignity left to pull away from the fantasy. From the decision that could potentially ruin it all.
Y/N swallowed the tightening in her throat, dissuading the fluttering in her stomach as she straightened her posture.
“Excuse me.” she said, heading to escape from the moment before she could falter in his presence.
“Wait-”, Will reached out, but she had already departed. Despite her name being called out after her, she kept walking.
Summary: Tom Bennett is a British Intelligence spy setting sail for France. His plans take a detour when introduced to the partner in his latest assignment.
A/N: My inbox is open to comments, requests
Pairing: Tom Bennett x fem! reader. Spy AU set during WW2, forced proximity, rivals to lovers
Tom Bennett Masterlist
Danger was a constant fellow in the line of work he was in. Trading secrets and listening in on conversations was a headliner for the role, among other unsettling tasks that arrived with the problems at hand.
Foot soldiers were said to be the key asset to victories in war times. Many would suggest the work behind the scenes is of far greater advantage. The individuals within the war rooms, the ears listening and meddling with plots.
Tom had worked his way into one of the most divisive lines of work of the current times, in that-- being caught by the wrong sort could end mortally. The current state of England was left in the hands of its government, Generals and officials working to ensure the country’s security. Tom's role in all of this was to aid their allies in relations, including espionage and security. Right now, he was awaiting a meeting with the handler of his current mission in France.
He arrived at the front of the antique store as instructed.
“Lovely weather, isn’t it?” the attendee asked, meeting his eyes.
“Yes, but I always carry an umbrella.” Tom replied, watching as the man tipped his head and escorted him to the backroom.
The door shut behind him, revealing a private room. The green wallpaper and dark mahogany furniture made for an alluring aesthetic. A round table was situated in the centre, dim lights from the overhanging chandeliers illuminating the room. The company looked up at his arrival, halting their conversation.
An older man sat at the table, and a woman sat opposite him. Another person sat to the side at a study desk, although they were mainly concealed by the shadows of which the lights could not reach.
“Welcome to France, Mr Bennett.” the man stated, twirling a pen in his hand.
He nodded, “You must be the handler."
“You may call me Perseus. This is Andromeda, my associate. We prefer to keep this as anonymous as possible on our end.”
Tom nodded his head in greeting, turning to address the second part of interest. “My superior informed me of another.”
“Ah, yes.” Perseus turned to the back of the room, “That would be your part, Madame.”
Heels clicked against the flooring, the woman approaching until she was in the light and Tom had to pause. Her sharp features and beauty stunned his senses for a moment as he caught himself staring at the woman.
The woman introduced herself, extending a hand outward. He glanced down before accepting it. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Her accent was unidentifiable. It could’ve been a mixture of a local British accent, or perhaps with a hint of something closer to Western Europe. Tom couldn’t tell, but he knew she certainly spoke more than English.
“The pleasure is mine.” Tom fixed his stare on her, a smirk lining his lips. They now stood with but a foot between them, allowing her to glean upon his features in the warm light of the room.
“Are you trying to flirt with me?” she whispered, crossing her arms.
He met her unimpressed gaze, noting the slight tug at her lips. “Is it working?”
“Probably not in the way you intended.”
“This mission is of most importance for us all. We have gathered intelligence of potential alliances between Allied officials and ambassadors with German contacts.” she informed them. “You’re here to investigate and report back your findings.”
She was quick and curt with her responses, lighting a fire in Tom’s vigour as he found himself turning away from the discussion to hear more. The woman, Andromeda, brought their attention back.
“Easy enough.” Tom said.
“This must be done with the uttermost discretion. Its expected of you.” Perseus remarked. “The both of you.”
“Both?” Tom asked, glancing down at the woman. She wore an unbothered look with her arms crossed.
“You’ll be working alongside Ms Y/L/N. She has the most expertise with relations and German history. Your skills will ensure the both of you get out of this intact.”
“I work alone.”
A scoff sounded from his side. “Now, you don’t.”
“Having another person is a liability-”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You can hardly make that assumption.”
“Fine.” he stated, his hands slipping into his pockets. “But, I can say I don’t need distractions.”
“I could say the same about you, Bennett. Has anyone tell you you’re loud and opinionated?” she snided.
“You’ve heard me, then.” he retorted.
“How is your French? Or German?” she rebutted, “You can’t expect to get through this with only speaking English?”
“Believe me, I won’t need to use words to get answers.”
Andromeda’s voice intercepted the next rebuttal. “You both need to work together on this civilly, alright?”
“We understand it may not be convenient for anyone, but ensuring your compliance is necessary. Both of your superiors assured you were the best for the job, and we need that for this to work.”
A silence fell on the room as they glanced from Perseus to each other. Y/N sighed, relenting and allowing her annoyance to dissipate.
“As long as he cooperates.” she waved a hand, shrugging her shoulders indifferently.
Tom swallowed the tension in his throat, “Great.”
Perseus nodded, satisfied while Andromeda wringed her hands anxiously.
A hand reached up to pat his shoulder, “You’ll get used to it.”
“What?”
“Disappointment.” her voice teased.
***
Almost two weeks had passed since the beginning of their partnership. They slowly grew on each other with time, considering how much of it was spent together...in close quarters. The company assigned them under the cover of a couple spending their getaway together in France. The first night, they were shipped off to a hotel in the city- an extravagent hotel to suit the cover, including all of the appropriate clothes for the guise.
Although, there was the initial issue of the singular bed. It was a king size, large enough for her to spread out and still not touch him, but it was the principal--the idea of sharing close proximity to him. Specifically, this man. The one with the smirk, the flirtatious remarks, and the constant teasing. She had to catch herself on multiple occasions from reacting as she blushed under his gaze. There was something different about Tom Bennett that caused this visceral reaction in her. It was both aggravating and exhilarating at the same time.
Much of the job they had was watching and waiting for things to develop. That evening, they had a meeting to intercept. However, it quickly turned into a gun fight when they were spotted. Learning to work with someone also meant learning of their tells and traits. The pair were swift in retaliating with their defensive training kicking in.
Tom had been preoccupied with gunfire from the front to notice the approaching gunman at his side. Although Y/N had. She shoved him to the side, ducking below cover, not before she was hit by the bullet. She hadn’t initially noticed the wound until a moment passed. Then the pain rang through, and she was grasping her shoulder between painful gasps.
Confusion had laced Tom’s being as he ducked next to Y/N, unaware of her wound until he heard her groan. A fury had lit in his eyes as he darted to the assailants surrounding them, curses laced from his tongue.
“You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.” he repeated, placing pressure on her shoulder. She nodded and blinked tiredly, feeling dizzy from the blood loss.
His objective was to get them out of there. To get her to safety. The mission wasn’t more important than her life, so he made a path for them. His eyes locked onto the gas tank behind the group, firing without delay. The explosion rocked the ground, flames licking the ground and providing the exact distraction they needed to escape.
Far from the scene, Tom held her close to his side as they made their way back to the private hotel room. Arriving at the lobby, she stopped him with a hand grasping his shirt. “Wait.”
”What are you doing?” Tom brushed her elbow.
“I need to hide the blood. We can't blow our cover." She pulled her jacket closed and tucked herself back into his side.
They managed all the way through the lobby until they reached the elevator where they could breathe. Y/N shut her eyes, feeling her blood pressure dropping with the haze in her mind.
Tom watched her pallor grow worse over time, applying pressure over her hand to ease the pain from the blood. “You’re gonna be fine. Stay with me."
She sighed, trusting him to get her there as he swung their door open. He led her through the room slowly,
“I need to sit down.” she exhaled, feeling spots dance in her vision. He held her up without trouble, carefully moving her to the bed. Feeling the comfort of the mattress beneath her hands, she allowed herself to fall against the headboard.
“Don’t go to sleep.” he met her eyes, instructing her to follow his order. “You need to stay awake.”
“I’ll try, but I can’t promise...anything.” she breathed, watching as his tall figure wandered to grab the first aid kit.
“And you’ve done this before?” she murmured as he sat on the bed, next to her legs.
“A few times. On my myself.”
The sound of him unwrapping the packaging reached her ears as her eyes fell closed. A hand brushed her face, urging her back to wakefulness.
“Keep your eyes open, alright?” he spoke softly, “On me.”
Her heart picked up at that as she nodded compliantly. Y/N’s breaths came out shuddery as she felt the aching pain with each movement. She moved forward slightly, allowing Tom to remove the soaked button down shirt. All that remained was her singlet as he pushed it to the side, getting a clear view of the fresh wound. He checked for an exit wound, confirming the bullet wasn’t present before continuing.
Tom’s face was strained with focus, but she could tell there was anger behind his demeanour. “Are you angry with me?”
Tom glanced at her, moving back to her shoulder. “No.”
“Something’s wrong.” she retorted, “You’re quiet.”
“I’m focused. Unless you want crooked stitches and an ugly scar.” he quickly replied.
She softened up as Tom gently cleaned the wound. “You’re actually good at this.”
“Thanks for the compliment.” he raised his eyebrows, a slight ease in his face. A comfortable silence filled the space before he spoke again.
“You shouldn’t have gotten in the way.”
“I pushed you out of the way of a bullet.” she countered.
“And you got hurt.” Tom stated, holding her gaze with an unwavering stare. “And you expect me to just be okay with it?” he hummed in question.
Y/N blinked at him, unsure of how to respond. “I saved your life. It’s worth it then.”
“And the pain? Is that worth it?” his blue eyes bearing into her own.
“This is-this will pass.” she tilted her head, relaxing against the pillow as his hands wandered away. A haze rushed through her mind as it was just them there together. He sighed, unsure of what to make of this woman and her effect on him. She felt the adrenaline wearing off and the tiredness seeping in.
“Don’t do that.”, she grasped his hand.
“What?”, he tiredly asked.
“Don’t blame yourself for something that isn’t your fault.” she shook her head.
“I’m supposed to protect you--Us.” he corrected.
“I know you would’ve done the same for me. It wasn’t a question in my mind. I just did it.”
“Why?” he whispered, almost as if he couldn’t believe it.
She paused, her heart skipping a beat as he seemingly grew closer. His words brushing against her cheeks, Tom leaning over her. “We’re supposed to look out for each other. Aren’t we?”
“I don’t know a lot of people who’d take a bullet for me.” he admitted.
“You should invest in some new friends.” she chided, feeling slightly better.
“I think I’ll stick around with you for a bit.” he replied, rising a chuckle from the woman. The mood settled until Y/N found herself absorbed in studying Tom’s features. She flickered from his slightly tussled hair to the faint smudge of oil on his neck she hadn’t noticed before. For a moment, she was sure he was leaning in, his eyes glancing down to her lips just as she had done. All of a sudden, he had stopped and feigned to brush the hair from her neck.
“Rest now. You’ll need it.”
And he rose from the bed, leaving her to recover from her wound and the confusion laced in her mind at his perplexing actions.
***
Tom waited for her in the living room as she got dressed, fiddling with his fingers aimlessly. He paused when the door opened, but suddenly Tom felt he should’ve been sat as he froze up. Y/N wore an extravagant emerald ballgown, crossing the room unaware of his stunned expression.
“I’m ready now.”
Her hair was styled down, working along with the dress to conceal her shoulder.
“Yeah.” Tom nodded, shifting on his feet. “Shall we?”
The entire ride in the taxi was silent until they reached the venue and he opened the door for her. She smiled gratefully, accepting the hand. It was a fair walk between there and the entrance to the Mansion.
The latest target was Lord Dupont, a suspected Nazi sympathiser sharing intelligence with the German military. It was imperative that the pair found evidence of the association to report back to their superiors. Tonight would be one of the most definitive of the mission after almost four weeks.
“Scout for Lord Dupont. Note anyone who he speaks to.” she recited their instructions.
“Got it.” he agreed, stepping up to the ballroom where the majority of the chatter and music came from. It was a grand room with high ceilings and chandeliers illuminating the space. Servers peaked through the sea of ballgowns and dancing couples.
“I didn’t know there’d be dancing.”
Y/N turned to him, “It’s a Ball. Why wouldn’t there be dancing?”
“Well, I haven’t been to my share as you probably have, princess.”
“You’ll follow my lead, then.” she mused, slipping her hand into his as they melded into the crowd. Her hands found placement on his shoulder, Tom placing his hand at her waist. He was unsettled for once as he flitted to glance at his feet. “One. Two. Three...”
They circled around, eventually finding a rhythm amongst the other dancers. “Where’d you learn all this?”
“Etiquette?” she asked, receiving a nod from him. “Where I grew up, these kind of parties were frequent.”
He met her eyes, “Where was that?”
She huffed a quiet laugh, tilting her head up at him. “You can’t figure that out, can you?”
“I’ve tried.” he admitted.
“I’ll leave that for another time. Focus on your foot placement, now.”
They moved in a smooth rhythm for a few more minutes, entangled in each other’s hold. He had grown more confident with each stride, falling to stare into her eyes. His blue orbs evoked this intensity and emotion that she found herself falling into.
“I can’t concentrate, when you look at me like that.” she whispered as they danced around the room.
“Maybe you should be concentrating on me instead.” His words reached her ears and she felt a shiver run along her exposed skin. She found herself drifting closer, enamoured with tracing the features of his face and falling to his lips--
Y/N blinked from the daze, her breath hitting his chest as she looked over his shoulder.
“He’s talking to the Ambassador now.” she traced the men from across the room while they continued to dance. She swallowed, feeling Tom’s hand tighten at her waist.
“I can’t tell what’s going on from here, but I suspect it can’t be anything good.” Y/N continued before sensing Tom’s silence.
She met his gaze again, noting how he stared at her. Entranced and lost in his thoughts. Her heart raced into her throat at the way in which he studied her carefully. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Bennett?”
He blinked at her, “I heard you.”
Tom slid his hand to her back as he ushered them off the dance floor. His hand found her’s, guiding her down a lonely corridor under the pretence of a private moment with his love.
They wandered the corridor, glancing around the large entry hall and the parallel staircases. The pair moved stealthily through the mansion, making their way to the second floor. “What now?” Tom glanced between the many doors on the level, glancing upward to the floors above.
“Well, we’ve got to start somewhere.” she shrugged, “From my knowledge, his private office probably wouldn’t be on the second floor to which any guests could find themselves.”
He fell silent, allowing her to tug him up another level as they continued to look around. After what was probably ten minutes, they found what appeared to be the Lord’s private study with the library attached and the plethora of expensive attachments. The decorative weaponry and swords were privy to this deduction all the same.
They split up, riffling through the papers on the desk, any books or maps spread out for evidence of the supposed plans. It had drawn to an uncomfortable silence as she drew her gaze to watch Tom. His side profile was clear to her in the low light of the moon, the strong lines of his face and the curve of his lips.
He was certainly one of the most beautiful men she had seen. His voice and words had more of an effect on her than she had wanted to admit, favouring to save her dignity over the rush that came over her. The stutter in her heart at the suit he wore was another indication of these feelings, not to mention the swell in her chest each time he laid those gorgeous blue eyes on her. The way in which he glossed his eyes over her with care, taking in her features--taking in her. It was consuming.
He turned his head, wandering to her and Y/N shook herself from the daze. “Anything?”
She shook her head, “Nothing yet.” placing the book back into its place. She wandered over to his side, glancing at the map on the wall before doing a double take. “I don’t believe its what we think.”
“What are you thinking?”
Her fingers traced the pins on the wall. “If I was trying to win a war, I would break down my enemies one at a time. Weaken their defences and they are easier for the taking.” she glanced up at Tom, returning to the desk. He followed and watched as she pulled out the drawers, before one of them halted under her grip. She jimmied the drawer again and Tom raised a hand, situating himself in her place. His hands moved fluidly, using a pair of scissors to jimmy the lock and the drawer gave. Y/N wore an impressed look before they rummaged through the contents. A file that they scattered on the desk. Tom’s tall frame stood over her, his body heat sending rushes against her body. Her heart sped up at the images, the series of monstrous weaponry and tanks able to barrage an entire house. According to the documents, Germany had enormous numbers and more coming.
“If they get in, they can run through France’s defences and take the city.” fear evident in her whispered voice.
“We’ve got to get these to Britain.”
She nodded, accepting the papers from him and rolling them up. His eyebrows raised, wondering where she was going to put them when she raised her skirt and deposited the papers in the slip of her leg garter. At least there was one use for it. Tom thought his heart would implode as they slipped from the room. They kept close, not expecting much else except to slip out when footsteps thumped closer to their spot.
Her hand gripped Tom’s, bringing his blue eyes to her fearful ones. “We need to warn the French government first. They have no idea what’s waiting for them.”
“Alright. Once we get out of here, we go to the State Assembly.”
She turned to him wide eyed until he pushed her down an empty corridor and against the wall. Tom pressed himself close to her, his warm breath brushing against her face. “What are you doing?” she exhaled breathily, the feeling of his touch tentative on her skin.
“Improvising.” he hushed her, pressing his lips to her’s. It was intoxicating and all consuming, the effects of his touch. His lips were more soft than she imagined, melding impossibly perfect to suit her’s. She breathed him in, a shuddery wave filtering over her mind as she lost all sense of logic. Everything was overwhelming. The feeling of the hand clenching her waist, or the one brushing the hair from her neck as he caressed it gently. His nose pressed into her cheek and . She cupped the side of his face with her left hand, tracing the sharp line of his jaw until she could tug on the back of his hair at the base of his neck.
The footsteps passed by and they were none the wiser to the pair’s presence. When they broke apart, she felt her chest rise and fall with shuddery breaths as she finally remembered to breathe. It was something she had noticed to be evident more often when in Tom’s presence. He had that effect on her from the moment they met, it was just something she refused to accept.
Her eyelids fell shut as Tom’s traced her jawline delicately. His eyes bore more than she was expecting, something darker as they read more grey than blue.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“What?” his voice teased.
“You know exactly what you’re doing, Tom.” she whispered, eyes tracing his lips up to his eyes.
“It’s Tom, now is it?” he chuckled, and she chased the sound.
“We should probably leave before we get caught.”
Tom’s lips turned upward as if he wanted to continue, but fell at the importance of their mission. He nodded, lacing their hands as he pulled them to safety. The better part of a few days had changed his life significantly and he wasn’t so sure he wanted to go back.
Even with the impending danger of it all, he wouldn’t trade this for any of it. If he had stayed behind in England, he’d be sent off to fight some place else anyway. At least here he had some control over where he went. Here, he had found her and something had taken over. Some part of him understood, he had fallen from the moment he laid eyes on her.
Trust was a matter of devotion and care that he had trouble with all his life. Vulnerability wasn’t a token he was familiar with as he held his heart close to his chest. In a matter of days, this woman had worn down at least part of his defences, but time would tell how far it could go.
can I request a grumpy x sunshine trope with tom bennett, where reader is the sunshine one and tom is the grumpy one? thank you so much! I adore your work to death ❤️
midnight rain
Summary: She was sunshine, he was midnight rain.
Where the grumpy flirt next door meets sunshine who knows just how to deal with him.
A/N: Immediately went into the works! I love this trope! The way I immediately jumped right into this and finished it so quickly. The ideas write themselves xx
Pairing: Tom Bennett x fem! Reader
Tom noticed her from the first glance. He recognised the lost look in her eyes as she scanned the street with confusion twisting her delicate features. He appreciated the beauty for a second, then his better judgement escaped him and he waved a hand to grab her attention.
“Lost?”
Her head flickered upward and he withheld a chuckle at the doe-eyed look. “What?”
“You lost? You’re wandering about, is all.” Tom noted with a hand, waving the cigarette in his hand as he leaned against the wall.
She felt her face flush, stepping toward the blonde. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I can find the post office?”
“You’re about a block down.” he gestured to the right far end of the street. His right, that is.
“Thanks.” she smiled, shying away from his upturned smile.
“You new in town?”
“What gave me away?”
His lips turned upward, “Well you don’t talk like you’re from here, for one.”
She mustered a sheepish smile at that, nodding her head.
A laugh escaped her mouth as she titled her head at the remark. “Should’ve seen that coming. Yeah, I’m actually looking for a place. New job, and all.”
“Where at?”
“St Mary’s hospital. I’m a nurse.”
He hummed, “Ah, so I know where to go if I ever get into trouble.”
“Is that a frequent thing?”
“Trouble follows me, it seems.” he mused, a puff of smoke falling from his lips. “At least that’s what I’ve heard.”
“That’s not very nice.” she stated, catching as he raised his eyebrows at her. “Of people. To talk about you like that.”
He shrugged, a knowing look behind his eyes. “What if it’s true?”
“I like to think everyone has a reason for their actions. You can’t make assumptions about a person based on gossip.”
A puff released from his mouth as he regarded the curious woman, intrigued by her optimistic persona. “I suppose. And what do you think?”
“Far too early to assume anything.” she concluded, flickering to meet his eyes. Y/N raised her eyebrows. “What do they call you?”
“Well, I’ve been called many things.” he huffed, extending his hand.
She blinked before accepting the hand, her smaller one engulfed by his. His touch was warm and gentle as he grasped her hand and shook it. “Tom is what I prefer.”
And she smiled, giving her name in return as they forgot to let go.
***
It was a few weeks later when Y/N finally settled into the flat she was able to rent at an affordable price. On her day off, she decided to bake and share the sweets with her new neighbours next door, having seen the young woman living in the house. Making friends in a new place was always difficult, but the young lady looked around her age so it would hopefully be easier with a gesture.
She turned up to their doorstep, gift in hand and knocked gently on the door. Y/N teetered on her feet, anxiously awaiting an answer before the door opened. She wore a smile, expecting the young lady to open the door. To her better surprise, she met a pair of blue eye and that golden blonde hair. Her eyes widened slightly, heart skipping a beat at the proximity of her standing so close to the gentleman. She felt herself pause for a moment before she finally registered that he spoke.
“Hi.” she managed.
“Hello.” he wore that distinct smirk, his eyes creasing slightly. “Back again.”
“Yeah. I-I actually just moved in.” she gestured to the flat next door.
Tom leaned against the doorway. “We’re neighbours, are we? Was that intentional or?”
“No-coincidence. In fact, my uncle recommended it. He used to live ‘round here before he moved for work.”
Tom nodded, glancing at her hands. “What’s that?”
“Oh, I thought you and your family would appreciate some sweets.” she smiled, handing him the plate.
He glanced between her and the plate, inhaling the scent of the chocolate. “You didn’t need an excuse to drop by. You could’ve asked.”
“It wasn’t.” she replied. “I enjoy baking. Besides, I can’t eat it all myself anyway.”
He nodded, “What other sweet things do you do?”
“What do you mean?”
Tom chuckled, “I mean the whole sunshine act. You smile all the time, your nice, and you bake. Is that all the time or are you just sweet with me?”
Y/N furrowed her brows, staring at him. “I guess I’ve always been like this.”
She leaned closer, “And no, it’s not for you. I try to be kind to everyone. To treat people with kindness and receive it back.”
From the huff that escaped his mouth, she studied Tom closer. “What? You don’t believe that?”
“No, because people will screw you over. Every chance. Unless they want something, of course.”
“Not everything is fake. Some people are actually genuine.” she retorted. “Like how you helped me the other day, right?”
“Sure, but that’s not generally how people are.”
“Like how you try to act all suave and closed off?”
“I’m don’t try to put on anything.”
Y/N hummed, “Telling. What do you even do for fun around here?”
“There’s lots to do. I can show you.” he leaned closer.
“And there it is again.” she mused, a smile on her face. She flushed under his stare, flickering away from his handsome smirk. “Do you ever smile or is that smirk permanent?”
His eyes softened, flickering from her eyes to her lips. “You're always blushing all the time...it's almost cute."
"And are you really this smug 24/7?"
"Smug?" he scoffed, shaking his head. "I'm not smug.”
She smiled up at him, “No. You’re just grumpy.”
“I’m not grumpy. Not everyone can smile that much. Well, maybe except for you."
She shrugged, "Guess not."
***
Tom had told her he was trouble from the first moment, and while she agreed to some degree that he was mischief incarnate. He had tendencies that meant he lived on impulsive decisions which got him into trouble sometimes, but he mostly meant well. He was a good person with certainly some misguided intentions when it came to priorities.
Although, when it came to her, Tom was a grumpy blessing in disguise. He was a welcome sight at her doorstep after a long shift at the hospital, offering company and relief from her stress. He was always quick witted, managing to bring a smile to her tired self on any occasion, to which she was grateful.
Over coming months, Tom and the Bennett family became a regular part of her life as she became accustomed to their own household. Douglas and Lois came to know her through her regular visits which turned into dinners- not to forget the drop in visits before or after work. While Tom didn’t have regular work, he certainly found himself busy with capturing Y/N’s attention when she wasn’t working at the hospital. Both his dad and sister were fine with the idea, given the young lady managed to keep him out of certain trouble with her around. She was always there with a kind smile that contrasted to Tom’s smug smirk and mischief. His dad had remarked that one morning, they were a sight together.
She was anxiously pacing their doorstep that morning when she had received no answer from the Bennett’s house. Of course, she supposed they could be out, but the entire family rarely left. Tom usually was round this time, and they had agreed last week to meet at the time. The figures in the distance brought her attention to the Bennetts, Tom leading the group. Relief filled her until she saw the grievance evident on Mr Bennett’s face. He and Lois greeted her politely, ushering inside, leaving her and Tom outside.
“What happened?” her hands rested on her waist.
“Police came round yesterday.” he replied, “Sorry ‘bout missing our plan.”
She shook her head. “It’s fine. What did you do?”
“What makes you think it was my fault?”
“I can easily ask your dad. He’s just inside.” she tilted her head to the door.
He blinked at her, glancing away as he sighed. “Fine. Something about the other night. I got into somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be.”
She shook her head. “Couldn’t find anything else to do while I’m at work?”
“Well, you take all the fun with you, I’m not left with many options.”
“You’ve got to stop this.” she met his blue eyes, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. “How’d you get out anyway?”
A smirk grew on his lips and he shrugged as if it were nothing. “Said I’d join up and they were quick to let me out.”
“You what?” she gasped, her voice dropping. “You said you’d join?”
“I’m not actually going to join up, love.” he stared down at her.
She ignored the flush of her face at that nickname from his lips. “Don’t you think they’ll find out?”
“Not if I’m a conscientious objector. They won’t do anything.” Tom stated, as though he had it all thought out.
“Since when have you been a pacifist?” she asked.
“Bout half hour ago.” his nose scrunched, the smirk floating to his lips.
Y/N shook her head, sighing deeply. “What do I do with you?”
His eyes widened slightly, “Well, I hope you keep me ‘round.”
“So long as you stop this. Gonna give me a heart attack if the police catch you again. Alright? No more visits, otherwise.”
Tom raised his hands, floating closer to her. His warm breath hit her face as he hovered over her, whispering sweetly. "I'll do that just because you asked."
***
The next morning, she hurried out of her flat to head to the Bennetts for the day when Tom greeted her on her doorstep. She caught him as his hand let the front door, surprised at his appearance.
“What’re you doing here?”
“I was just-” he stuttered uncharacteristically, “I-uh need to talk to you. Is that alright?”
She blinked at him, nodding. “Of course. Come inside.”
Y/N noticed the tension in the air. Not the comfortable air that usually surrounded them. The content feeling was replaced by an air of the unknown as she awaited Tom’s explanation.
“Is everything alright?” she glanced over his face, recognising the tension between his furrowed brows. His lips formed a tight line, his blue eyes not meeting her’s until- she held her breath, her eyes burning at the realisation hitting her. The guilty expression reflected in his stare as he opened his mouth. She knew within a moment what would fall from his lips before he spoke.
Please don’t
She begged in her mind, repeating it over again.
“I’m leaving tomorrow.”
Y/N felt gutted all the same, hearing it spoken aloud. A ringing sounded in her ears as she stared at him, studying and memorising every part of his face. She still asked him all the same, not wanting to believe it despite the truth of it.
“What?”
"I have to join up."
For once, he was met with silence, which was somehow more unsettling than the barrage of words his dad had for him.
"What changed?" she asked, her quiet voice loud in the silent flat.
Tom looked at her sadly, clasping his hands. "I don't have a choice. Dad won't put me up with them, and I can't stay. Otherwise..."
Tears welled in her eyes at the realisation, pursing her lips in a tight line. "Do you know how long you'll be gone?"
"No."
Y/N nodded, blinking away the tears as her heart beated faster in her chest. Tom clenched his jaw, pulling her into his arms as a sigh escaped his mouth. "You'd better come back."
“I will. I'll try my best. Can't promise you anything, but-"
"I won't accept anything less than a promise." She met his eyes. "People die every day, but you do whatever you need to get back here."
"I can never say no to you, can I?" he smiled, ducking his head to press against her forehead. "I'll do my best not to break it then."
***
News arrived, but it wasn’t what she was expecting that day. It began with word of the HMS Exeter being attacked. 61 soldiers were killed, 24 were injured and the ship was pulling up back to the shore. A knock sounded at her door, shaking her from the trance she was in.
“You hear?” Lois asked, seeing the pallor of the woman’s face.
Y/N nodded, “He’ll be fine, right? It’s Tom.”
“He’s too stubborn. They’ll have to do worse to stop him from comin’ back.”
Two days later, on her walk home from work, her heart skipped a beat at the familiar blonde standing at her door. He smirked upon seeing her widened eyes.
"I brought you a canary." he held up the cage, placing it on the ledge.
She shook her head and leapt into his arms, clutching onto him as a lifeline. Her eyes fell shut as she withheld those tears.
“Don’t do that to me.” she breathed.
“I’m sorry.” he whispered, caressing her head.
Soon enough, she ushered him inside and he discussed all that had happened on the tour. There was a sombre mood that caused her to trip up, recognising the slight change in his demeanour.
“What else happened?”
He flickered to meet her eyes, playing his fingers as they sat on the bed. Tom pursed his lips, shaking off the nerves. “I saw a few mates...they got caught in an explosion. I was the only one to get out unscathed.”
Tom looked up at her from his lowered position on the bed, leaning up on an arm. Her hand darted out to him. “I just-I feel this...guilt.”
“You shouldn’t.” she stated, despite the scoff that he restrained. “You survived. It’s terrible and I’m sorry about your friend. It just means that you need to make the most of what you’ve got.”
His eyes darted down, his voice shaking. “I'm afraid.”
Something shattered in her chest at the fear in his voice. Her hand darted out to push his hair back from his beautiful features, comforting him as he tucked away.
“Dad wants me to go back.”
Her eyes widened, “What’d you tell him?”
“Exactly that...I don’t wanna go back to that. I can’t watch people die. I won’t kill anyone.”
She nodded, listening intently to his words as she felt a part of herself shattering. “Try again. Your dad’s understanding, first. I’ll be here, no matter what you choose. I know you’ll do what’s best.”
"How do you always do that?" he pondered.
She tilted her head, “Do what?"
"Make it easier." Tom sighed, "Everything is...quiet when I'm around you. It's easier with you."
"I'm glad. You could smile more." she chuckled as he tickled her neck.
"Please don't look sad. I can't handle it." Tom pleaded, “Smile for me, so I can remember that image each and every day.”
There is another heartfelt goodbye that evening, and she is left with those same butterflies in her stomach as his touch left.
Two days later on her doorstep is the answer to her question. She held him tighter that day, a whisper of a kiss pressed to the corner of his mouth. She memorises the corners of his face, the warmth of his touch on her skin. The blue of his eyes and the feeling of his soft hair beneath her fingertips. The goodbye brings tears to her eyes that fall, only to meet his soft caresses as her brushed them away.
She bit her lip, mustering a wistful smile for him. A promise fell from her mouth. "I'll be waiting for you."
***
In the end, she hoped that the pain of the previous occasion would be a once off. Listening to the radio each and every morning was a norm in her flat, however, it became a nerve-wrecking moment when the news arrived. The HMS Exeter had, in fact, been performing a rescue mission of British soldiers from the beach at Dunkirk when an attack killed and injured many.
They were awaiting numbers from the Allied forces in France. Tallies of survivors would be relayed when available. At the moment, they were left with only the question of whether their loved ones would be on the lists of the missing, or the deceased. Over the coming weeks, Lois had watched the spiral in her. The dimming light as she failed to bring that smile to her face with the essence of her light gone.
He was the light to reignite that spark in her. And when Tom Bennett returned on her doorstep, her swept Y/N off her feet. The man refused to prolong the moment any further as he pressed his lips to her’s.
Summary: Being the eldest daughter of a Duke and Duchess means that Lady Y/N has been prepared for society; to fulfil her duties as the next heir to her family name and estate. However, she dreams of so much more than that, particularly, finding someone she truly loves rather than a political match. Intrigue sparks an idea with the introduction of Tom Bennett, a soldier she meets on a Press tour - forming a new relationship that could either make or break her apart should things turn against her favour.
Pairing: Tom Bennett x fem! Reader
“Do you think you were too harsh on her?”
The Duke glanced at his wife, catching the stern look on her face as she studied him. The empty seat at the table remained as it had for the past three weeks. Y/N had become a shell of the person she previously was. They failed to recognise their daughter as she fell into a new routine. One teetering on self-destructive as she locked herself away. Meals were taken in her room, or at later hours when solitude was suitable. The woman waiting for her soldier to return from a devastating war. The consequences were direly affecting her resolve, forcing her into a fragile state.
His face relaxed, regarding the empty chair with a solemn look. “I did what I thought was right.”
“But you see what this is doing to her?” her voice lowered, “It’s tearing her apart.” She watched as her husband’s resolve shrivelled with each word. “You know it as I do."
"Who are we to stop her from being happy?”
He met her eyes, “I am only trying to protect her. That’s all I want.”
“We can protect and support her at the same time. Can't we?"
“You know the ferocity of these people. What they’ll all do to her and this family if it gets out.”
“I rather think she would do fine on her own. We’ve raised her to be resilient and strong. We can’t hold onto her forever, Richard.” he’s left with that note.
***
Every day, she listened to the radio.
And every day, she received nothing.
Although no news was oftentimes better than the inevitable letter many awaited.
The next morning, her younger brother managed to coax her to join them at breakfast. He had managed it with his softened gaze and a gentle smile. Her family missed her presence and so she sat there at the table quietly. The sun shone briefly that morning, the clouds drawing closer. The room was cast in a grey light, the clinking of cutlery and the radio filling her ears.
“News arrived yesterday of the survivors at Dunkirk. A confirmed list of the troops rescued on the shore was tallied this morning. British soldiers were rescued from several vessels, including the HMS Exeter-”
A knife twisted in her chest at the word. The fork clattered on the table as she listened patiently, the sound of chatter ceasing with it.
“Recorded numbers are in the thousands... many were unaccounted for...stranded at Dunkirk.”
Many erratic thoughts rushed through her mind. It darted from worry to shock within a second at the image of him stranded and alone. Their promise was a far cry in the schemes of a war. Promises were easily broken in the scope where life and death were concerned. Breathing suddenly became difficult as the prospect of his body wrecked her.
Y/N’s breath grew shaky. She pushed her chair out, finding the eyes on her. Her mouth parted as she flickered back to the radio. The impulse stirred in her before she moved, departing from the room.
The footsteps thundered behind her on the floorboards. Y/N heard her father call out her name, but ignored it. She swung her bedroom door open, grabbing her coat and keys.
Her mother’s concerned voice reached her through the haze. “Please, talk to us.”
A blank stare and glistening eyes reached her parents standing in her doorway. “What do you want me to say?”
Uncertainty brewed in their eyes as they stepped around the topic. “We’re worried about you, darling.”
She withheld a scoff, nodding her head. “Of course.”
“Where are you going?” her father nodded, looking down at the keys in her hand.
“I have to know.” her voice shook.
“Have you thought about this? What are you going to do?” he asked her.
“I don’t need to consider anything. Did you not just hear what I did?” Y/N gasped out, her heart clambering in her throat.
“He-”, she choked out, clenching her fists as her eyes fell shut. “-He could be dead. Just let me go. Please. I will never ask anything of you again.”
“Please.” her parents’ expressions softened at the pain in their daughter’s voice. The agony was evident in her face as she pleaded for respite. She watched her parents glance at each other, the Duke eventually nodding his head.
Y/N’s mouth formed a tight line as she withheld a sob. Her hands shook, holding onto the keys like a life line.
“Go to him.” he said.
Surprise lit in her eyes at his words.
“I-I was...” her father paused, guilt written over his face. “I was wrong. I understand now-- the extent of your feelings. What I did...it was a matter of protecting you, in my mind. But to you...Darling, I will work to make this up to you every day if it means that I’ll have you in my life.” he gulped. “All I’ve wanted was to protect my children. Not to be the source of their pain. I hope that when this is all over, you will want to come back here. Despite my decisions.”
Her eyes shone with unfallen tears, finally meeting his gaze. “And you mean that?”
He bowed his head. “I do.”
A pair of arms tugged her into their chest before she could depart. She embraced her father, a second pair of arms caressing her waist. A heavy breath left her chest as she breathed out some of the built tension.
“I-I have to go.” she released from the hug, wiping her eyes.
***
Anxiety wringed her stomach, her heart thundering in her chest as she waited for an answer on their doorstep. She waited for relief to fill her once the door opened, but met with the devastation on Lois' face failed to settle those feelings.
“Please tell me he’s here.” her voice low.
Lois’ silence was enough of an answer and Y/N felt her knees grow weak. She hid her sob with a hand on her mouth, the woman pulling her inside.
He wasn’t one of the list to arrive home. She almost broke down, if not for Lois’ support on her back, urging her to let it out.
“I-I only found out this morning. Do you think its possible he could be-”
The creaking floorboards caused the women to glance at the man’s presence.
“Who’s this?”
Y/N wiped her eyes, blinking between the father and daughter. She stood up straighter as the realisation hit her.
His eyes shone with recognition upon finally seeing the girl’s face. “Lois?”
“Mr Bennett, I-uh.” she paused, glancing between the pair before she explained herself. The first meeting with his son. The second encounter and everything from there on, except the minor details of course. She recounted meeting Lois, justifying her knowing of their secret relationship and all that led up to the present.
“I assume you heard.”
Thoughts of what if fill her mind as they all sit in the knowledge Tom Bennett might very well be dead. Y/N flickered between Lois and Douglas, recognising the remnants of Tom in them both. She stepped on her feet, cautious of her place in the room without him.
“I apologise for coming here without notice. I-” she breathed, “I had to know. If you had heard anything else.”
“We got the news yesterday with the listings. He wasn’t on it.”
That sent a bout of relief through her body, yet the question lied in when he would turn up. Or if he would.
“If there’s anything I know about my boy is, he’ll come home.” Douglas stated firmly, “He’s as stubborn as they come.”
“He’s brave, too.” Y/N mustered, a sad smile on her face.
The Bennetts were kind enough to offer to stay the night. Any news received would be directly to their household. Most of the night she failed to gain any rest, laying across the bed. The scent of smoke and something faintly resembling him filled her senses.
“Aye, he is.”
It had initially sent a painful ache through her chest after weeks of being far away. The aching had turned to comfort as she nestled her face between the pillow and blanket, falling into a haze of sleep and restlessness over the night.
Two days had passed. She had phoned her parents that first morning of her plan to stay in Manchester. Her mother relayed her concerns and best wishes, understanding of the circumstances. She assured her daughter that her father was supportive nevertheless, much to her relief.
The rustling of Lois leaving the room caused Y/N to open her eyes. She blinked away the sleep, turning her head to the door that remained ajar. The creaking of footsteps reached her ears, rustling before the sound of the front door opened. A muffled gasp and a shout sounded, her heart lurching in her chest. Y/N rustled for Lois’ gown, slipping into it as her thoughts were lost to her.
Only instincts pushed her to the door as she slipped down the staircase, turning to the back door with a heavy chest and hope building at the thought of-
Him.
He looked tired and worn. She trailed his face, his wounds still healing with red scrapes along his cheekbone. His outfit was borrowed-- tattered; evidently from travelling all the way here. There was cause for concern with exhaustion in his eyes behind the smile he wore. Lois and Douglas had pulled away from the hug, allowing a full view of her standing in his line of sight.
“Tom.” she finally breathed. “You’re-”
TAGS
Y/N felt her throat close up, and a shuddery breath escaped her. He stepped toward her, meeting Y/N halfway as she fell into his arms. Tom held her tightly against his chest. The woman’s arms clutched around him tightly, afraid this was all a figment of her imagination. The feeling of his body against her was a tentative reminder.
“I’m here.” he whispered as she withheld sobs at the sight of him. The warmth of his touch. The beating of his heart beneath her ear was a comfort, pulling her back from that darkness that paced in her mind for days. “I’m right here with you.”
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