ephemeral-sorrow

[ephemeral-sorrow]

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑. (reupload!)

⟢ gojo satoru x fem!reader.

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓. you have a limp leg, you can’t harness jujutsu, and you’re being married off to a man you could never have imagined being paired with, all for your clan to save face. not only that, you hold a deep secret—but that's hard to keep with an unexpectedly affectionate husband. will you manage to keep your skeleton securely locked in the closet, or will you die stripped of all worth and forfeit the love of your husband?

⟢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 ⨾ extreme angst, fluff but it's slow burn, arranged marriage, canon au, 16+.

⟢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⨾ 7.2k.

⟢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⨾ HEY GANG im back did u miss me, yeah uh not much for now, just reader being ridiculed by everyone but gojo's a sweetheart so whatever <33. also note that reader is not entirely a weakling!!! it's all for the plot ok bear w me i promise it'll get better (you also have an edgy backstory btw).

ao3 ⟢ playlist.

You never wanted this. 

To be thrust into an arranged marriage that you were certain your husband would detest was never something you desired. Especially to such a man as him. This man, one of such renown, married to you? A clan member who couldn’t even wield the very basics jujutsu? Where his distinguished, formidable strength looks like a joke beside his doormat of a wife? A wife who was always mere refuse to be disposed of? 

The covenant of marriage is the most venerated, most blessed of contacts between two individuals who love each other. A ‘covenant’ is the highest form of a contract in and of itself. And matrimony is one that has been hailed and celebrated and accosted for millennia. 

Why are marriages of convenience hardly addressed? When they are so common, even in an era of humanity where they are scarcely organised anymore? Espousal was something continuously arranged between children of monarchs or nobles, all for the benefit of their families’ pockets and reputation.

Your circumstances are no different. You were the runt of the clan. Runts are never of any use to anybody. Especially not in a society so set apart from the normalcy of non-sorcerers, where they have it so easy, living in ignorance to the incessant, looming threat surrounding them. The world of jujutsu is harsh, demanding, and tyrannical. Above all, it is political.

A child with a limp was the first flaw. A small girl who had her leg irreparably damaged one day at the age of four, all because of her own childish folly. 

Hope still remained within the clan leaders for the girl’s future. They thought that, despite her impaired limb, she would exhibit great talent and aptitude for the clan’s signature technique when she reached age six. Many past sorcerers had managed to work with missing limbs or other permanent injuries, and still remained formidable in battle—so, what could possibly make her any different?

Yet, no such thing revealed itself in the child. The mishap was an extreme and unacceptable blow to the clan elders’ pride. No fruition came from their own expectations. Expectations that were not so far-fetched for the civic world of jujutsu, yet the child proved to be a disappointment regardless.

Talentless at jujutsu, the only thing that kept you from being completely thrown out was your sufficient amount of cursed energy to be considered sorcerer material and the ability to see curses themselves. The clan’s technique never manifested itself within you. You only knew the most basic of self-defence; unable to take lessons to greater heights because of your impairment.

You became, and was made, a recluse. The clan elders paid you no heed. They were generous enough to give you a room befitting of your status, but that was where their hospitality ended. The servants didn’t respect you. No one respected you. You were alone.

Despite all of that, your life was relatively peaceful, and, more frankly, boring. The harrowing mistreatment you suffered as a small child after it was discovered you were nugatory eventually died down. You spent your teenage years in the shadow of your accomplished and gifted younger cousin, Asuka. 

And then, one day, at age twenty, everything went downhill.

You supposed it had always been only a matter of time until things took a turn for the worse. In this world, it had always only been a matter of time until you were cast out of the clan, once and for all.

“It’s time you were put to some kind of good use,” your great-uncle, the clan chief, said to you that horrible day. His fingers had been steepled into a calculating pose upon his desk that raised gooseflesh on your arms. “You’ve lived in peace here, leeching off of the fruits of your fellow clan members’ labour, for long enough.”

Gripping your cane, your fingernails bit into its leather handle, form tense on the chair you sat upon, and you had swallowed nervously. “…I’m afraid I don’t…exactly understand, great-uncle.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” he had sighed resignedly and snatched up a brush, dipping it in the nearby ink pot, turning his attention to the paperwork before him. “Ever since the futility of your existence to the clan was revealed all those years ago, you’ve dwelled here sheltered and duty-free. Surely, you didn’t really believe we wouldn’t notice. Well, now it is time to give you something to do.”

Drawing your lips out into a thin line, you had shakily replied, “What is it that I am to do, great-uncle?” “Marry.” He began to write on a piece of paper. “There is a man who is in need of a wife, if his clan’s lineage is to continue. Asuka-chan is not of age yet. You’re the only female here who’s…somewhat suitable.” He had looked up and at you with nothing to mask his contempt. His glance was brief and he refocused on his paperwork once more. “Our tribe is one of the greatest. We are a match for him, and the joining of our kinsmen would prove greatly advantageous to us.”

You sensed there was something more to this; his explanation of the situation was vague, ambiguous. Our tribe is one of the greatest. Was there something wrong with the clan that, as he had said, your sheltered self was not privy to?

“May I ask why I must marry this man?” There were a lot of things you had been dreading throughout your life here, and marriage was one of them. But, you had taken comfort in the belief that you were not of worthy calibre at all to be married off to another. This is not good. This was not good at all.

Does he know of how truly defective I am? If he did—or if anyone did, for that matter—you would be as good as dead.

Your hand rested subconsciously on your lower stomach, sweat beading on your top lip.��No one can know. 

How do I make sure no one knows?

He already said that this marriage would only be to continue the bloodline of your unknown future husband’s clan. It would be revealed sooner or later.

Your great-uncle paused, and a rush of cold panic hit you. Stupid! How could I ask such a thing? Your duty, as a woman in this world, was to sit still, silent and pretty. Don’t ask questions, just do as told.

But the clan leader had sighed and set his brush down. Although he evidently disfavoured you, he did not seem to be one prone to smashing a vase over your head at even the slightest slip up. If asking a perfectly reasonable question wasconsidered a ‘slip up’. And, thankfully, he didn’t think it one. Pursing his lips, he fixed you with a detached, uninterested stare. “No point in sugarcoating it, I suppose. It’s like this: our clan has fallen into dire straits. Enough to be a concern. You’re the only woman of marriageable age here. You may be a defect and a terribly embarrassing stain on our reputation—and it is utterly humiliating to have to offer someone as incompetent as you up to such a renowned man—but I’ve thought long and hard about this, and found that we have no choice. You are to be married, limp leg and all, in three months’ time.”

Overlooking his slights, you focused on the crucial aspects, fighting to push the further truth of the matter, that only you knew, away. “…Alright.” You tried to remember all of the eminent bachelors known in jujutsu society, and couldn’t think of one you would be suited to wed. “Who is the man I am to marry?”

Your great-uncle seemed faintly satisfied with your acceptance of the matter. You supposed he thought you’d throw a hissy at being forced into an arranged marriage, something all women dreaded. Of course, you were most certainly not at all pleased, but what could you do? Refuse? What choice did you even have? Maybe the only upside about this whole fiasco is that you’d finally be out of the horrid place and elsewhere.

Or maybe thrown into something worse. You couldn’t bear to think of it. Everything was already unbearable enough as it was.

And, considering the secret you held, that was only a given.

“I’m sure you know of the Gojo clan, and just how important they are.” Your breath had caught. Oh, no. It can’t be. The clan leader picked up the teapot at his side and poured some tea into a cup, not offering you any. “They are greatly acclaimed and with a flawless reputation. How wonderful would that be for us?” He took a sip. “The Gojo clan elders and fellow higher-ups began to speak of how the man is in need of a wife. And, seeing the opportunity, we sent them a letter of proposal. It was immediately accepted—by the man himself, even.”

It can’t be. It can’t be. Not him! You swallowed harshly, with great struggle, heart about to beat out of your chest. The words were an endeavour to get out. “And he is…?”

“Unfortunately, we could not leave any details about you out without being put at even greater risk. Imagine you turning up to the wedding with that leg of yours and unable to even imbue a mere spoon with cursed energy!” He ignored your quiet, hesitant question, and barked a laugh. “The highest of insults, that’s what that would be. He’d probably kill us all.” Your great-uncle shook his head, unaware and uncaring of your strained self-control and suspense. You needed him to confirm that it wasn’t the man you were thinking of. 

The chief then waved a hand dismissively. “Point is, he’s agreed to marry you. I was so immensely surprised when I got the letter back. The proposal has been accepted, and you are now an engaged woman.”

You fought to keep yourself from having a panic attack. Unclenching your teeth, you asked, “Who is he, great-uncle?”

He looked at you. And he really looked at you. He silently interlinked his hands and stared at you from over the top of them with such an imperious gaze, and you felt like a mere ant under the sole of his foot. “When I tell you that this is the greatest honour you will ever be graced with, I mean it. It will likely be the only honour you’ll ever receive. Remember that everything is on the line here. Our family’s esteem, our family’s heritage and wealth—and your life. Everything is in jeopardy. Do not screw this up.”

“Yes, great-uncle.” You lowered your head, inwardly exasperated at him still withholding who the damn man was. You took a deep breath and tried to relax. “I understand, sir.” “Good.” His chair creaked as he leaned back in it. “You are to marry this man in three months, as I said, and you will pack your bags and leave.” He leaned forward again. “If you do anything wrong and are sent back here, we’ll feed you to the dogs. Is that understood?” His threats were not empty. You shakily nodded, frightened at how that future was easily envisioned, and virtually guaranteed. “…Yes, great-uncle.” “Right. I am glad to hear that.” The man shuffled through his papers a bit, and then handed you one. “Take this and read over it well.”

Reading it, ice-cold sweat broke out over you. “Is—is this…”

“Yes.” Your suspicions were confirmed. No! “That is the man you are to marry.”

The paper in your hold began to tremble. “Him…?”

You must have done something truly abominable in your past life to be punished with this kind of fate. This man, of all men? Why? Even with your ‘sheltered’ lifestyle, you knew of him. Everyone did. It was vague, but you had memory of coming across him once when you were about seventeen. 

This man was the strongest, and inescapable.

Your great-uncle elicited a wearied sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Must I repeat myself? Yes.” He picked up his brush once more, dipping it in the ink pot. The man paid your visible shock no heed. “On the eleventh of January next year, you will marry Gojo Satoru.”

The months leading up to the wedding were frenetic.

But today would decide whether the scales would tip in your favour, or if everything will go down the drain. You worried your bottom lip, smudging the lip gloss that had been applied by some maids assigned to you to doll you up for his arrival. One of the servants noticed and, considering how scorned you were in the clan, she was not afraid to click her tongue at you and wrench open the lip gloss tube again.

“You keep messing everything up!” She forcefully reapplied it, glowering at you. “Our heads will roll if there’s a single mistake today. Be more careful.”

You uttered no word in reply. Inside, you were indignant and ashamed that this servant girl would speak in such disrespectful manner to you, but you had no power here. You never had, and that would probably remain the same even after your marriage to Gojo Satoru.

Why must I be selected to marry him? There were countless other clans to choose from—the Kamo clan, the Zen’in clan, the Inumaki clan, and the Fujiwara clan—ones who doubtlessly had beautiful and mighty women that were a perfect match for a man of his calibre. Ones who wouldn’t make his strength look like a farce when he was placed next to them. 

I suppose it’s because our clan is the only one on relatively good terms with the Gojos. And your clan was also just as renowned as the Kamos and Zen’ins. Why wouldn’t they wait until the likes of Asuka was of age? She was pretty, promising, and well on her way to being the next prodigy of the clan. The ‘one in millennia’ sort of thing. The one who could possibly one day even be a match for the strongest himself.

You knew that was a pipe dream, really—the clan elders were reaching for the stars again, clinging to that hope that Asuka would never turn out a setback like you.

Their prayers were answered. Asuka had mastered the clan’s technique at age twelve. Now fifteen, the higher-ups only had to wait one more year until she was of age to marry Gojo Satoru. Of course, there was no thought put into how the man was much too old for her, for only political and financial reasons were considered. You doubted the man would accept such a young bride, anyway. You didn’t know much about him in general, but you knew he had morals.

You were only two years younger than Gojo. It made sense to you why you were selected—but why were you even considered, apart from you being the only eligible woman in the clan? You have had to walk with a cane for almost two decades. You cannot, as your great-uncle so kindly put it, even imbue a spoon with cursed energy. All you could do was see cursed spirits and sense cursed energy.

A terribly embarrassing stain on our reputation, your great-uncle had said. Your family’s renowned technique was one of great danger to its enemies—the technique was notoriously difficult to harness, and a swift drainer of cursed energy, but when used, the consequences for the recipient were dire. Requiring great concentration and timely application, your tribe’s technique could drain the cursed energy from their opponent and store it for themselves. Essentially, using another’s energy against them, by ridding the foe of it. Of course, your clan was on the ‘good side’, so to speak, and only used such a tactic on cursed spirits or curse users. Along with several other advantageous traits, ‘Evocation of Essence’ (as it was cheesily dubbed millennia ago) was an immensely hazardous and mighty technique exclusive to your family name. 

And to think Asuka had mastered it at only age twelve. You pursed your lips and looked down at your hands. The girl need only exist, and you are shown up for the futility you hold on the daily.

You were not jealous of her, no. She was only a child. Her being groomed and trained by the clan elders for ‘greatness’ was no fault of hers. Asuka never had a choice in the matter. Just like you. And, really, you were glad you were the one being exposed to this, not someone undeserving and innocent like her.

“You are ready, my lady,” one of the politer maids said, stepping away from having just applied the finishing touches to your hair. This will be ten times worse on the wedding day. She was even respectful enough to bow. “You must head to the waiting room to receive your guest now.”

“Thank you,” you softly acknowledged, rather moved by her courteousness. It was once in a blue moon you were talked to in such a way. “Please hand me my cane.”

Dutifully, the young girl handed it to you and you stood to your feet without much struggle. The door was opened for you, and you were led by a silent guard through the winding halls of your clan estate to the centre common room of the manor. You needed to be there, ready to greet your fiancé, before he arrived. Not only that, but you would be in the presence of your great-uncle, your ailing grandfather (former clan head) and aunt. They were the clan elders, as your parents had passed long ago, and were unabashed about expressing their deep regret at your existence.

This is the first time I’ve been in all three’s presence for years. The one you dreaded the most was your aunt. Being Asuka’s mother, the way she treated you before the girl’s birth and manifestation of potential was grievous. You never wished to lay eyes on her again. Six years later, you were put in a precarious position with the woman once more.

“About time you arrived,” were the first words of said woman as the reception room’s doors opened and you entered. Immediately, all of your previous inner pep talks and self-encouragement about holding your head high and ‘not letting her get to you’ went out the window. Once more, you were internally reduced to a shaking child of seven with a battered frame and empty stomach. Chinatsu, her name was, one of high revere and reputation within the jujutsu world, and your father’s sister. She held great political sway over jujutsu society. “I think I finally sprouted some grey hairs and wrinkles as you took your sweet time to show up.”

The room was filled with more people than just the three—some other elders you did not recognise sat nearby, all hailing from different clans, and all present to oversee the long-awaited arrangement of Gojo Satoru’s betrothal. And each chuckled at her toneless jest, all considering a lark at your expense immensely amusing. It’s always easy to pick on the less fortunate.

Masking your tumult, you meekly bowed your head. “My apologies.”

“Sit down,” she brusquely commanded, rolling her eyes at your limping gait and the tight hold on your walking stick. It was always taxing to remain standing for too long, and the lengthy walk to this room had taken a toll on your leg. The hand bracing your weight as you leaned against your cane was visibly shaking with exertion. 

So you sat, and you tried to ignore the side-eyes from everyone in the room. Your aunt made no attempt to conceal her evident disdain at your presence. Inwardly sighing, you knew a lecture was on its way.

“Now, let me lay a few things out straight for you, girl,” she began, leaning back in her chair with one leg slung over the other, her arms crossed. “When he arrives, you stand up and give him your seat. If he declines, insist he take it. I doubt he will, though. Take one look at you for a bride, and he’ll wish he never came.”

It was starting to get harder to bear. This was the tone she took on before she would give you a beating as a child. But you gulped it down and steeled yourself. She can’t touch me here. I’m fine. It will be fine.

The woman continued, “And then you will remain completely silent. Speak only when you are spoken to. Which you won’t be. Act as if you are not even here. Don’t even look at him.”

“Chinatsu, dear, be a bit less harsh,” your grandfather cut in, waving a wrinkled hand at her gently. The wizened old man wasn’t coming to your aid, no—no one would. He was just concerned for the guests. It wouldn’t do to have these affluent people overhear the doormat of the clan be so obviously walked all over. There had to be at least some dignity retained. “I’m sure she already understands such elements.” Then he turned to you, old eyes hard. “Don’t you?”

Again, you lowered your head. “Yes, grandfather.”

“There you have it. Only thing she’s got going for her is that she’s not stupid. Let us engage in some light conversation while we await that boy’s arrival. Refreshments, anybody?”

And so your aunt backed off, and polite chatter began to filter about the room. No one addressed you, and nor were you offered any refreshments. You were left to awkwardly sit and stare at the floor in silence.

A quarter of an hour passed by when your great-uncle clicked his tongue. “That kid is never punctual. How long is he going to take?”

“If you were engaged to such a woman as that, would you want to arrive on time?” your aunt replied, chuckling dourly to herself as she inspected her nails. “No, I would relish every last moment of freedom I had.”

A delegate from the Kamo clan chortled. “My goodness, ma’am, you most certainly don’t mince your words.”

“There has never been any point,” she amusedly answered. “I feel awful for poor Satoru. How unfortunate was he when his clan requested this engagement. But, well, how could we have ever resisted such a tantalising offer?”

Throughout your life, you had grown a relatively thick skin to such constant ridicule. Although the words stung, the insults had become almost like water off a duck’s back for you. Maybe one day, you would be able to bear such villification and feel nothing.

What you were most afraid of right now, however, was the man’s imminent arrival. You don’t believe you had ever met. What will he think when he lays eyes on me? He would probably be gravely disappointed and, even worse, insulted. You wouldn’t blame him. If you were the strongest and coerced into a marriage with such a spouse as yourself, you wouldn’t be very pleased either.

Where is Asuka? This was a very formal familial gathering, surely even she would be present. But considering how particular her poor excuse for a mother was about her training, the girl would likely be in the courtyard, doing her daily drills and exercising. You felt sorry for her.

Neither of you were close, but you weren’t enemies, either. You weren’t much of a threat to her, anyway. She outshone you so brightly, you couldn’t ever even hope to compare.

A servant entered and cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the people in the room. “Apologies for the interruption, but he has arrived.”

“Finally,” you heard your aunt mutter, and everyone stood to attention—except your grandfather, because he couldn’t stand—for Gojo Satoru’s entrance. What is he, royalty? Perhaps this was out of obligation, forced respect—which you suspected. Everyone in the room was at his mercy. The man wasn’t known for being quick-tempered, but you supposed no one wanted to take any chances.

The double doors creaked open, and in strode the towering, ivory-haired, blindfolded pride of the Gojo clan, Gojo Satoru.

“Goodness me!” were his first words, and he stopped before the room as the doors eased shut behind him, taking in all the politely standing guests in the room. “What a welcome this is. I guess it half makes up for my wasted time, that I could be spending teaching instead of humouring you lot.”

“Gojo Satoru, welcome.” Your great-uncle breezed over his brazen words and stepped forward, outstretching his arms in a cordial gesture of greeting. “It is an honour to receive you today. Please, sit down. Would you care for any refreshments?”

“Don’t bother if there’s no kikufuku. Let’s just get this over with,” is all he replied with. He allowed your great-uncle to lead him forward to sit. Quickly, you stepped out of the way and made yourself as invisible as you could manage, praying he wouldn’t notice you.

“Well, then, shall we begin?” your grandfather ahemed and spoke up this time, pointedly looking at your great-uncle. “I hope you don’t mind the onlookers gathered to witness this joyous event today, Gojo-san.”

“Joyous!” he snorted, flopping down in your chair. Quietly, you stepped aside so you were behind him, out of his line of sight, stomaching the pain in your leg. Gojo rested his elbow against the arm rest and placed his cheek against his fist, never having noticed you. His countenance was very informal—his legs were splayed wide, his regalia was not one fitting of this stately meeting, and his hair was tousled, held up into white spikes by his blindfold. You supposed this was his way of making it known just how highly he regarded this. He can’t wait to get out of here.

Fair enough. You wanted nothing more than to leave and never see any one of these people ever again, too. At least that was one thing you held in common with this man.

“Ahem, yes, well—Chinatsu, go ahead.”

“Of course, father,” your aunt smiled warmly at the man before her. “First of all, welcome, Gojo-san, and thank you for the proposal. We understand just how—”

“I didn’t propose it,” he corrected.

The woman shifted awkwardly. “Aha, naturally. Ahem, as I was saying, we understand just how inconvenient this is for you. However, the mutual gains outweigh the losses. Of course, the bride we have provided for you is not…the most satisfactory, to be polite about it…” She shot you a look before refocusing on Gojo. “But it is the best we can do. She may not be able to wield jujutsu, and neither is she fully able-bodied, but—” “Where is she, then?” Gojo straightened from leaning against his fist and crossed his arms. “Considering all the slights you’re spouting about my bride-to-be right now, it sounds like you don’t want me to marry her and thus bring great prestige to your clan. That’s the goal, isn’t it? Let’s give all the sweet talk a rest for now and get to the point. I will be the judge of whether my ‘unsatisfactory bride’ is fit to marry or not.”

“I…I see. You are right.” She nodded stiffly, trying to conceal her aggravation at his blatant impertinence, and turned to you. “Well, dear, go on,” she stiffly urged, teeth gritted. “Introduce yourself.”

Swallowing thickly, you stepped forward reluctantly, face twitching with a slight wince at the exertion on your leg, and you stopped before Gojo Satoru. You kept your eyes down, bowing. “Welcome, Gojo Satoru. It is an honour to meet you. My name is [Y/N].”

There was silence for a beat. You felt a drop of sweat trickle down from the back of your neck, under your dress and down your spine. 

And then, “So, it’s you.” 

How cryptic. You had no idea what to make of his tone. He sounded neither happy nor disappointed. And then you saw a bright smile gradually spread across his face from the corner of your eye. “It’s lovely to see you again.”

Again? Reflexively, you flicked your gaze up to look at him, and was met with a blindfold. Not being able to see his eyes intimidated you, and you realised with a jolt of fear that you had looked at him when your aunt specifically told you not to. So you cast your eyes down again timidly, bowing your head lower. My leg will give out if I have to keep this up! “Apologies, Gojo-san, bu—” “I’m sorry, did you say ‘again’?” your aunt interrupted, leaning forward and frowning. “I…fail to recall a time when the both of you could have become acquainted before today.”

“Oh, of course.” Gojo didn’t turn to her. He just kept looking up at you, and you tried not to squirm under his scrutiny. “It was long ago, anyway. I doubt [Y/N] here would remember.”

You awkwardly flattened your lips and kept your gaze carefully away. You had faint memory of one instance when you were seventeen and you had both crossed paths, but you did not speak to one another. You only remembered an obscured pair of eyes behind dark shades and the sensation of being stared at, and that was all previous memory you had of Gojo Satoru. But what surprised you most was that he remembered something along such lines. You were not a very memorable person. And most certainly not for an exalted and very memorable individual like Gojo Satoru.

However, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had forgotten something awfully important. Something terribly detrimental.

“Well, do you remember?” Your aunt couldn’t keep the snap out of her tone this time. She hastily smoothed it over with a tight, but pleasant, smile, adding, “My dear?”

“I-I apologise, but I cannot recollect any memory of a past meeting, Gojo-san…” What remembrance you did have had no real significance, anyway. It felt like you were on death row, and every word you said was one step closer to your head being on the chopping block. “That is my mistake. Forgive me.” “Don’t worry about it.” He waved a dismissive hand, unbothered, and finally looked away. “It doesn’t have…much to do with this, anyway. Perhaps I’m thinking of another.”

Yes, perhaps you are. How could he remember you? Someone so notable, so indelible? Opposed to the likes of you, Gojo Satoru even recognisingyou somehow left you bewildered. I must consider it an honour, if anything.

For the world shifted on the 7th of December, 1989. When this man was born, a bounty was immediately placed on his head. 

Even as an infant, he was the strongest.

“Well…now that you are both…officially acquainted, we shall discuss the proceedings of this marriage.” This time, your great-uncle took the wheel. “Gojo-san, do you agree to it?” “Yes,” he immediately answered. “I will marry her.”

Astonished, every onlooker in the room excitedly murmured about themselves at the unexpectedly direct confirmation. He instantly agreed. You almost fell over in shock.

Clearly, neither your aunt, great-uncle or grandfather were expecting this, for they all exchanged wide-eyed glances. Clearing his throat to silence everybody, your grandfather quietly said, “…Are you absolutely sure, Gojo-san?” “Do you want me to marry her or not?” The man crossed his arms. “None of you sound very eager to get rid of her. Which you clearly want to do.”

Your head snapped to him, utterly astounded and offended. Must he point out the obvious and humiliate me more? You pursed your lips and hesitantly looked at your aunt.

She was red-faced and livid. Noticing this, your great-uncle jumped in before she could impulsively say something the entire clan would later regret. “That—That is…we are just looking out for…her. This is all for both our benefits, you see.” “Oh, yes, I’m sure it is.” You had mixed feelings about this man. Does he really want to marry me? You doubted that somehow. And yet, he instantly agreed to wed you. Gojo stretched out his legs and crossed them over one another in a languid pose. “I can see that this poor woman here is just the apple of your eye.” Then he straightened and leaned forward, fingers steepled, elbows on his knees. “Look, I may be wearing a blindfold, but I’m not blind. At all. You think I can’t see what’s really at work here, under the surface? I thought all of you would have long learnt to never underestimate me.”

“Of course not!” your aunt hastily assured him. “We would never. We have only your best interests at heart, truly. Please know that we fully understand if you are unhappy with…her.”

Instead of replying to her, he turned to you once more. “You have a permanently injured leg, don’t you?”

“…Yes,” you responded softly after a pause, taken aback by the sudden question. 

“Did they force you to stand up so I could sit down?”

You were stunned silent. If I say yes, I’ll probably be beaten. You swallowed, debating your next words. When will I be able to speak for myself?

You clutched at the handle of your cane. “…No.”

You saw the material of his blindfold shift; he had narrowed his eyes beneath it. “Hm. Okay.” There was a tense pause, then Gojo stood to his feet. “Please, sit.”

You gawked up at him, as did everyone else. “I—I’m sorry…?” “Are you not even allowed to sit down in this household?” He tilted his head at you. “You are a lady, and my future wife. Please take my seat.”

Your heart lurched in your chest. You were utterly baffled, speechless. “I—I…thank you, Gojo-san.”

“Satoru,” he corrected, tone so unexpectedly gentle, offering you a hand to hold as you guided yourself to finally sit. Gojo’s grasp was warm, and his hand enveloped yours entirely. You tried not to sigh heavily in relief once you were sitting again; you were too busy staring up at him with wide, questioning eyes. “S-Sorry?”

“You may call me Satoru,” he softly reiterated, his dimples showing as he smiled. “Since we’re to be married.”

“We’ve…only just met, though.”

“Yes, but we’re to be married,” Gojo repeated, shrugging. Then he turned back to the dumbfounded three in front of you both. “When’s the wedding again?” “Uh—it-it’s scheduled for the eleventh of January…” your great-uncle stuttered in reply. “That is in three weeks…”

Gojo heaved a sigh. “Alright, then. Well, since I’ve agreed and all, it should be settled, right?” He smiled tauntingly at the clan elders, and they all looked warily at each other, beginning to bob their heads in unsure affirmation. His grin widened. “Wrong.” He faced you again. “What do you say? Do you want to marry me?”

“I…” What choice do I have? You had none. Everyone here, even him, knew you didn’t have a choice. People like you never have a choice.

“…I will marry you,” you eventually replied, lowering your head.

“But do you want to?”

Why does he keep insisting? It just kept putting you in more and more of a precarious position with your clan even further. Finally, you gave him a quizzical look and slowly nodded. “Yes.” No.

Gojo’s lips pursed, and he was quiet for a moment, just staring down at you with his hands in his pockets. Finally, he exhaled through his nose. “Alright, then, that settles it. That’s it for the meeting, right? I’ve got things to do.”

“Of—of course,” your aunt stammered, and as Gojo headed for the door, everyone, including you, stood to see him out. With his back turned, she grabbed your arm and pushed you along faster, nails biting into your skin. She’s furious. Again, that fear you felt when you were a child. So raw and real. “Your fiancée here will see you out.” And the woman shot you a look screaming, don’t argue.

The doors opened, and he paused, turning to face the room again. But Gojo Satoru looked at you. “You don’t want this, do you?”

You weren’t super appreciative of how he was pointing out everything you were feeling in front of everyone. With one last nudge that appeared gentle, but was really very harsh, you were shoved forward by your aunt to stand before the strongest. Yet again, you did nothing but lower your head, and quietly responded for his ears only, “I am not sure.”

He stepped forward and took your free hand, bringing it to his lips. Placing a gentle kiss to the top of it, Gojo smiled at you. “Shall we talk outside for a moment?”

Murmurs resounded about the room, and you looked back at your great-uncle—but it was your aunt who gave you a murderous look and nodded once. Chewing on your bottom lip, you turned to Gojo once again. He hadn’t let go of your hand; it was still held up to his mouth. “Yes.”

So, the door shut behind you both, and you were led out to a small patio nearby, the area sunlit and warm, perfect for a private talk. The moment you were left alone, you turned to Gojo and bowed deeply. This is my chance. This was your chance to cancel the whole thing—all to save your own sorry hide. I’m tired of having no choice. “I would like to sincerely apologise for the awkward circumstance you have been forced into—”

“I never asked for an apology from you,” he quietly interrupted. Gojo grabbed the nearby chair and pulled it out. “And please sit here. I can see that standing on your leg for too long takes its toll on you.”

You blushed, humiliated. It’s the way I look so pitiful next to this man! “…Marrying me would bring irreparable damage to your name, Gojo-san.”

“Didn’t I tell you to call me Satoru?” He kindly guided you to sit down. And then he took a seat across from you, slipping off his blindfold. A pair of the bluest eyes you had ever seen gazed at you through snowy locks. “And let me tell you right now—I do not give a shit about what other people think of me. In fact, I make it my life’s purpose to show those blood-suckers—” he pointed indoors, “—that they do not run my life. I run my own. I do what I want.”

“Forgive me for being blunt, but I do believe that is only because you are ‘the strongest’.”

“Be as blunt as you want. You’re going to be living with me for the rest of your life, anyway.” He shrugged, and you felt your heart jerk at his words. “And, yeah, you’re right. I’m the strongest, but those leeches never quit trying to make me their puppet.”

“Then this leads me to understand that you cannot comprehend just how treacherous of a position I am currently in. I am the black sheep of this family.” You turned your face away from him, unable to hold those blue eyes. Inwardly, you were applauding yourself for speaking without stuttering. Having an actual one-on-one conversation with another was not something you had experienced in years, and you were trying very hard not to have an anxiety attack. “They are doing everything in their power to be rid of me. And if you had declined the marriage proposal, I…” Drawing in a deep breath, you trailed off, then forced a smile. “Well. You get the gist of it. Point is, I do not want this marriage at all.” You were lying through your teeth. I have to get him to decline. If you didn’t, the true extent of your sheer inadequacy will be revealed. I do want to marry him, just to get out of here, but I won’t be safe with him either. “I’m giving you the opportunity to back out now while you have the chance.”

“You’re negotiating?” Gojo tilted his head at you and crossed his arms, slinging one leg over the other. He even arched a brow. “You know this is advantageous to your clan. And you. And, most importantly, me. What makes you think I’m going to back out?”

You lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. You didn’t look him in the eye. I’d rather stay here than suffer the humiliation of a divorce. You’d be killed for bringing great shame down on your family. “…I am a cripple. I can’t wield any jujutsu.” To demonstrate, you picked up the small potted plant on the outdoor coffee table before you both. With all your might, you tried to channel your cursed energy into it—and, soon, you were sweating from the mental and physical exertion. You smiled unsteadily at him. “See? Compared to you, I am even less than pathetic. And that image will reflect onto you, whether you care about your reputation or not.” 

Gojo was silent for a moment, just watching as you shakily put the plant back where it was. You decided to use his silence as a chance to continue speaking. “It is not unknown how—although you believe it your duty, as the strongest, to protect them—low of a regard you hold weak people in. Why would you accept me as a bride when there are countless others from fellow clans to choose from? Ones that are strong, capable, beautiful, and have talent in all things jujutsu? I really don’t think this marriage is worth it.”

Better being harshly castigated for getting him to call off the wedding than die for being divorced. You feared the consequences, yes, but they would be short-lived. Another year or two and you could melt back into the background again, unnoticed once more. 

“If it brings any comfort, I have only chosen to marry you because of an heir.” 

Exactly why this can’t go through! “I know. Even so, I don’t believe I’m a suitable spouse in that regard, either.”

“Why?” Gojo squinted at you. “Are you unable to have children?”

“I—No…” You tried not to avoid his eyes and thus blow your cover. “I…can have children. I just…” “Don’t want to?” 

“…I suppose so…” You awkwardly scratched your cheek. “I understand that it’s the point of our marriage. But—well, in short, I’d rather not…do this.”

“I see,” he said after a moment. Gojo gazed out into the garden the patio overlooked, before sighing. “I’m still going through with the marriage, though.” “…Sorry?” You balled your hands into fists on your lap.

He looked at you intently with striking cerulean eyes. “I’m still going to marry you.”

“Why…?” His adamance utterly bewildered you.

“Because.” Gojo held the stare for a bit too long before shrugging. “It gets a lot of things off my back. Off your back. I can see you’re itching to get out of here. So am I. Do you know where we’ve been ordered to go for our honeymoon?”

You hadn’t travelled out of your clan estate in a very long time. The offer was…enticing. “Where?”

“Ginzan Onsen. You’ve seen Spirited Away, right?”

One of the few joys of your childhood. “Many times, yes.”

“Great. That’s where they’re sending us off to, partly for a mission I’ve been assigned and partly to make a baby.”

You felt your neck and face burn at his blunt wording, and you turned your head away. “I see.”

“Anyway,” he continued, breezing over the awkward atmosphere. I suppose his easy-going nature and straightforward manner is handy at times. “Just rest assured that I won’t be doing anything to you that you’ll be uncomfortable with. If you don’t want a baby, then there won’t be a baby. Simple.” Gojo spread his hands as he shrugged again. “Our marriage will still be very convenient to us—to hell with these boneheads here—without or without a child.”

Still doesn’t solve my main problem! It was all very well and good to say there won’t be a baby if you don’t want one, but eventually the pressure will accumulate, and neither of you will have a choice. And then the truth of just how deficit you really are would be revealed.

God must hate me. Your future looked so pitifully bleak.

Dropping your gaze to your lap and your fisted hands, you drew in a deep breath to brace yourself for everything. “Alright.”

Strangely, the man before you immediately brightened at your soft acquiescence. “You will marry me?”

“Yes,” you sighed. Let’s get this over with, then. “I will marry you.”

⟢ click here to continue reading on ao3!!

REUPLOAD note!!

unfortunately, all three of the accounts i used to update my fic on (wattpad, tumblr and ao3), were hacked into and subsequently deleted. during my absence, i have decided that i will update this fic on ao3 ONLY, and i have made refinements to the storyline to make the plot make more sense <3

to those who were my kind readers before my account(s) were deleted, it’s lovely to have you back. here is a list comprised of the changes i have made to the fic, just to avoid confusion:

- by using the period of time i was waiting for an ao3 invitation, i have mostly planned out the rest of the story. therefore, aspects in the previous edition do not exactly make sense anymore. this includes y/n’s age. to make your backstory with gojo and in general more comprehensible, your age is now 20, not 22.

- you are no longer two-and-a-half years younger than gojo. you are only two (pretend you were born in 1991 🙏; gojo is 22).

- gojo does NOT have a teacher’s licence. i have decided that gege’s words concerning this actually make a lot more sense. for my fic’s storyline, gojo became a teacher around mid-2011. this fits into the plot better.

- and for the story timeline to flow more optimally, i have changed the year the fic is set in to january 2012, not 2015. you will see why later on <3

apart from those four things, the fic itself is more or less the same. i hope you are fine with these changes and that you all will be able to continue to enjoy the story i have poured much love into <3

thank you all for the sweet messages you left here before my account got deleted. it’s a shame they are now gone. however, im back!! so, without further ado, let’s get into it !!

banner art by @/Fi081206a on X.

all rights reserved © kisstrela 2024. do not copy, repost, redistribute, translate, plagiarise or modify my work(s) in any way on any platform. thank you.

[ephemeral-sorrow]

If you see this on your dashboard, reblog this, NO MATTER WHAT and all your dreams and wishes will come true.

[ephemeral-sorrow]

On Canned Crab

⚠️ blood and guns

a can of self-love 🦀

[ephemeral-sorrow]

family life with 21 year old!twelve [part 1]

okay, i imagine this as some kind of a happy ending AU, where twelve doesn't get shot by american snipers and sphinx manage to bring charges against the japanese government without being captured.

however, this path would take two significant turns, depending on whether nine survives his illness or not.

if his health isn't completely destroyed by the drug: let's bravely and responsibly face the fact that both nine's body and mind needed profound rest, given how long he suffered and endured the after-effects of the medicine the scientists forcibly injected him. he stubbornly ignored his condition in order to finally reach his and twelve's goal and make institutions of such kind exposed to light. being so mentally strenuous only added fuel to the deadly embers.

after the whole ordeal was over and shibazaki attracted the public attention, sphinx alongside you went into hiding, spectating the long-awaited occurence with a strange feeling of solitude. as if... all of it was rushing past you three in a swift motion. the world drowned in the informational uproar, making you wonder whether you truly once were in the centre of it all.

the first priority was to get nine tended to. his panic attacks worsened during the operation he conducted on his own, so you and twelve had no choice but to find a way to get a proper treatment for him.

for the sake of this canon, let's accept the idea of nine not revealing his face in the final video. provided with that, you managed to change your identities and get new documents without much effort, as you did all the time in the past. not wasting any time, you found a high-level clinic in the outskirts of tokyo and had nine accepted. later on, during passing months you visited him regularly and made sure he was indeed getting better. after discharging, the three of you once again went back to living under the same roof. after everything you went through, it was... extremely necessary for your group to stick together and think about the possible future. you didn't imagine your life to be separate.

if nine dies after handing over the detonator to shibazaki: twelve mourned for his friend like a wounded crow that lost its faithful companion. you did your best to comfort him and provide as much warmth and support as possible, all the while suppressing the tears of your own. surely enough, more often than not, twelve put on a brave face and kept pushing himself to think on the brighter side, but you knew him all too well to turn your eyes blind to it. at some nights, in the darkness of your shared apartment you caught him crying silently by the window. at times like these, you found yourself unable to just stand there politely and watch him break down. you scrambled out of the bed and ran to hug him, pressing yourself impossibly closer to his shaking body.

the pain was undeniably strong. you realised that every single time you looked into twelve's warm orbs and saw the thoughts reflected in them. both of you knew you needed to go on with life and not allow yourselves to fall into the pit of despair.

twelve took the major step towards.

"i want to change my name."

you looked over your shoulder, as you were stirring the stew in the frying pan, surprise and mild apprehension written all over your face. of course, you two have discussed the topic before, but you still were caught off guard.

"are you sure?"

twelve found comfort in the fading warmth of the coffee cup, thoughtfully looking at black drops that were left inside.

"yeah. not only that, but i guess i want to change my birthdate and place of birth. won't... hurt."

"somehow... you feel different about this sort of thing, even though you've done it countless times before."

"it wasn't serious. i didn't mind changing names because i thought it wouldn't affect my life one way or the other. i would still be me. heh, some part of me even considered that fun - you know, changing your "username", as if it were some kind of a videogame."

twelve's smile gave you a bitter sensation on the tip of your tongue. you felt the familiar constriction in the throat, as you quickly turned away to the sink. he was doing it again. hiding his pain behind a smile.

and it hurt you more knowing what he was on about.

he was going to...

"i want to start my life completely anew. like a whole different person. i will apply for college, find a part-time job, attend student gatherings, fret over the strict teachers. things everyone does. that'll be so cool, don't you think--"

"are we going to erase him just like that?"

your quiet voice held no condemnation. though you'd be lying if you said that you hadn't felt a pang of regret. you just wanted to hear twelve's answer. you couldn't go on living if he just chose to stuff the agony deep inside and ignore it, pretending to be okay and ready to restart. you had to know he truly let go. otherwise... otherwise...

twelve hugged you tightly, turning away the stove behind you. you hugged him back eagerly, heart pounding in the chest.

he was touching your back in a soothing motion, effectively calming you down.

"sh-h, sweetheart. it's okay."

"what is okay about all this..." you sobbed, clutching his shirt. closing your eyes, you breathed in, growing addicted to the feeling of being comforted by him, not that it was the first time.

"i'm not forgetting him. never. nine remained, remains and will remain in my heart. i feel happy that he got our wish fulfilled and passed away with peace. at first, it was really hard for me to move on. but now i know i have to live. so don't worry about me." having said that, he caressed the side of your face and made you look up to him. then he pressed a tender kiss to your cheek. "we have each other now. let's try and create something truly beautiful for once instead of blowing everything up? ^^"

"twelve..." you weakly hit his chest with a fist. "you're such an idiot."

"your idiot. there's no getting away from me now."

twelve especially requested that you would help him choose his new name; and upon looking at his blazing smile, you instantly came up with an idea - akira 明 ("the light coming from the sun").

as for the date of birth, twelve didn't think too long.

"then... let it be the 15th of june."

"that was fast. did you think about it beforehand?"

"no. that's the day we've met, silly. i want to celebrate the most important event of my life as my birthday."

[ephemeral-sorrow]

imagine threading your fingers into twelve's chestnut locks, while he's sleeping peacefully, resting his head on your lap.

you put the outmost tenderness in your touch, caressing his soft hair like the petals of a wild flower, afraid to disturb his calm and yet unable to pull away. his relaxed expression and even breathing proving just how much being near you subsidies the raging storm inside his mind.

you trace his angelic features with a tip of your finger, gently circling his brows, cheekbones and the sharp line of his jaw. upon sensing your warmth, the corner of twelve's mouth twitches a little in a contented smile; a soft sigh escapes his lips as he nuzzles even closer to your belly.

he looked so vulnerable and unassuming like this. thinking about just how much trust and devotion he was placing in you, how he always thrived to shield you from any possible form of evil, how supporting and kind he was being to you... any time these thoughts began flooding your mind, you found yourself incapable of suppressing the quiet tears of gratitude and love. too many feelings overwhelmed your entire being.

you hastily wiped off the tear that managed to roll down your face. luckily, it didn't fall on twelve's cheek and didn't wake him.

everything was going to be okay, and you were certain about it.

after all, in this cruel world you had twelve's back too.

[ephemeral-sorrow]

onigiri gone wrong [nine]

you hummed thoughtfully, as you stirred the rice porridge in the pot.

today was your turn to take up the responsibilities of handling the kitchen. weirdly though, in contradiction to what some may suggest, you didn`t view it as something exhausting or overbearing, finding pleasure in such a family-like matter. surely enough, a smile tugged at your lips as you threw a contended look at the number of plates on the counter filled with various appetizing dishes: palative katsudon for twelve, fluffy pancakes with sirup for lisa and traditional udon noodles for nine. the rice currently boiling in the pot was meant to become your portion of onigiri.

joy and accomplishment filled your insides, as you pondered over the particular thought in your head. family, indeed.

unbeknownst to you, a giggle escaped your mouth. in spite of all your protective responses and denial of compliments, which twelve and lisa kept showering you with, you treasured the smiles on their faces more than anything as they happily stowed away your cooking.

filled with anticipation of the upcoming dinner, you rolled a spoon in your fingers.

seemingly out of nowhere, you saw a familiar long arm reaching for the bottle of water that stood on the counter. the nerves on your back immediattely felt someone`s presence and you hastily turned around, finding yourself caged between the cabinet and nine`s looming frame. strangely enough, you felt no fear or surprise, only embarassment and slight uneasiness.

you hated to admit that, but apparently, nine rather enjoyed trapping you in narrow spaces where there was no escape from him whatsoever. his height served as his undeniable advantage, whilst you were facing quite palpable issues in avoiding any unnecessary contact.

"what is it, nine?" it sounded like a statement on your behalf, not an inquiry. your voice was calm and quiet, but still hit the right nerve.

"i came for a drink."

and that was all that left his lips. as expected, nine made no attempt to push the already confusing conversation further, only thickening the tension with his unblinking attentive eyes that froze on your features, as if examining the reaction you might give him.

"dinner`s almost ready."

"i noticed." you quickly connected the dots and realised the smell may have slipped inside the living room despite you tightly shutting the door to the kitchen. perhaps, he was more hungry than he liked to admit?

nine read your mind in an instant - you were almost sure it was the sheer purpose behind his desire to connect eyes with you, so he could analyse every expression that crossed your face and understand you faster without words. for now, you tried avoiding him, afraid of giving away the true feeling inside.

"i will wait until you finish and everyone gathers here."

"uhm-m."

"i take it that you`ve prepared udon noodles. did you remember how i`ve mentioned wanting to have them?"

oh... how unusual. he was attempting to have small talk.

"i did. i always want to match everyone`s taste so the food could be equally delicious." you carefully examined nine`s face in return, wordlessly noting how soft his hair looked after the shower.

"i see."

by that point, the air almost seemed stiff. your heart started beating rapidly, almost squeezing your lungs; the fact that both of you didn`t draw your eyes away from each other only served as a cathalyst to the peculiar sensation of fondness, mixed with deep intimacy and a feeling of complete understanding.

you suddenly remembered that you were still holding the sauce-covered spoon. you placed it in front of your bodies as a shield, trying to look intimidating.

"i can stain your t-shirt." you sternly reminded nine not to forget that you could as well refuse his eccentric courting, if he kept up his antics.

"i don`t care."

that single sentence sent your face ablaze in a second. your ribcage practically erupted with nervousness and butterflies that threatened to break forth, as you struggled to control your breathing. with a slightly shaking hand, you gripped the counter behind you for support, almost anxious about what was going to happen next.

nine didn`t move, but you knew better than letting your guard down; his magnetic gaze never left yours the whole time, continuing to read you like an open book. he stood, observing your emotions and thoughts swirling in your orbs, offering to look inside him as well.

you could almost distinguish the high frequency sound in your ears, signaling the peak of tension, but it was interrupted by the sounds of excited steps up the staircase.

you and nine eventually moved away from each other, as if nothing has happened.

"we're ho-o-ome!" twelve's clear voice rang from downstairs corridor, followed by the sounds of metallic doors closing and shoes being discarded. "wow, smells great! isn`t it right, lisa?"

you heard a faint "yes" in response.

quickly turning back to the stove, you tried to compose yourself with outmost persistence. still, you couldn't help but steal a glance at the retreating figure of nine, who headed back to his laptop.

[ephemeral-sorrow]

***

I was very inspired by one of the pictures in Amy's profile(I mean the picture below--). I sincerely believe that both of her paintings with red-haired girls on an emerald background are somehow connected / refer us to the image of Jennifer ~

[ephemeral-sorrow]

afterclass confessions [nine]

the burning rays of the summer sun penetrated the glass, making the heat disperse inside the empty classroom. the quiet chorus of cicadas resonated placidly inside your ears, as well as the breathing of a dry wind, that caressed the foliage.

you could still make out the indistinctive mumbling of people passing the corridor behind the closed door. it almost seemed to shield you from the outside world, although a couple of steps and a doorknob turning would rip you out of your undisturbed dimension instantly. even so – the thought itself was discouraging, unclear.

your gaze smoothly grazed over the wiped-off blackboard, rows of vacant desks that were scattered with textbooks, snacks, mp3-players and pencils only fifteen minutes ago. looking at it in the present gave you a strange feeling of apartness.

quietly, not wanting to break the comfortable silence with the shuffling of your shoe, you turned around, landing your eyes on nine. he looked almost surreal, sitting by the open window with headphones on. you’ve discovered the melody he was listening to with such absorption was actually the same every time you passed by his side. the hasteless sensual rhythm. it suited him pretty well. a calm wordless spectator. so close, yet unexplainably far.

eventually, he noticed the lack of movement out of the corner of his eye and slowly turned his head into your direction, measuring you with cold precision. hadn’t you known better, you would’ve presumed he intended to intimidate you or make  you disappear. luckily, there was no need to dwell on too much – nine took the plugs out.

you smiled somewhat unequivocally.

“we need to open all windows in order to air the room.”

without responding, nine slowly got up from his seat and took each one of his sneakers off. then he proceeded to climb the windowsill and reach a long arm to unlock all the latches; as he did, the fresher air began to fill the classroom, rustling the curtains on the way. you instantly felt better when it hit your face.

“thanks.”

“no problem.”

you kindly helped him to pick up his shoes and then moved to the supply closet to put all the washcloths and mops away. contendedly smiling to yourself, you felt like you accomplished yet another task for today – the classroom was clean for the weekend, and it served as a nice reminder that another busy week was nearing its end.

your back collided with something as you chose to move. for a moment, you felt panicked and disoriented but in a second you realised it was nine’s chest.

his cold fingers came in contact with skin on your forearms, gripping you securely and holding in place.

“watch your step. otherwise you’ll trip over.”

“sorry, nine.” you tried not to focus too much on the fact that he still hadn’t let you go. gulping a little, you looked him in the eye, getting straight to the point. “we should close the door and get back to the lair. it’s our turn to cook dinner this time and we haven’t even bought anything.”

“i don’t think twelve will be home for another three hours, as he’s wandered off with lisa.”

“doesn’t matter.” you replied jokingly. “he may have, but that doesn’t guarantee our stomachs will survive any more after such a hard hungry day.”

no reply came.

“nine? it’s no great observation, but i bet something is preoccupying your mind.”

“why are you like this?” was all that came out of him. seeing as you didn’t rush to open your mouth for an answer, nine cared to elaborate. “you act like nothing is happening. the way you talk, look at me… nothing suggests you know so much.”

“it’s a good thing, i suppose?” you said thoughtfully. “it’s important to divide professional and everyday things. besides, i don’t need to act. i’m content with the way everything is. with you being my friend.”

unknown emotion flickered across his icy orbs – alas, it was gone as quickly as it resurfaced. nine moved his head to the side, refusing to look at you. you were attentive enough to catch the slight clenching of the corner of his lips. he almost seemed… disappointed?

“my luck for this week has run out – it seems today i just can’t decipher your mood.” the smile on your face began to wither, as worry flushed your thoughts. “did something happen?”

“yes.” to your surprise, nine admitted it. when it came to his privacy he wasn’t the most honest person, tending to hide whatever emotion he had.

“do you want to talk about it?” you carefully prodded the thin ice.

“it’s impossible to avoid by now.”

you’ve always found yourself fascinated by nine’s ability to make sound and correct decisions, no matter the difficulty of the stated situation. he rarely if ever said something driven by his heart, not his head. for many, including you, such occurrence was doomed to be delusional.

his words made sense and were logical, just as expected.

“i’m listening.”

nine sighed softly but there was no trace of his usual condescension. instead, he stood before you, slightly looming, and was facing hardship in finding correct words to start his speech. he hadn’t made any attempts to, continuing to burn holes into the clean floor with his intense glare.

“this doesn’t make any sense.” he concluded, downcast, seemingly having finished the internal debating in his mind. “whether i analyse it or not.”

you didn’t lose patience but kept waiting nervously, as this whole ordeal was starting to alarm you with possible explanations as to why nine was so uncharacteristically distraught.

“what… doesn’t?”

then nine looked at you, and the bottomless look of his absorbed you fully, drowning in the crystal lake of unspoken feeling that agitated your soul. in this moment he seemed so pure and unguarded, you almost forgot about everything else. about the singing of cicadas, the summer heat, the responsibilities you had yet to carry out. all that mattered, all that pulled you in were these eyes.

nine examined his left hand in deep thought before taking off his immemorial watch. he weighed still warm metal in his palm, as he extended it to you.

“take it. it’ll be a better choice of words i could ever come up with.”

“why are you giving it to me?” you were beyond confused, eyeing the familiar object as if you were seeing it for the first time in your life.

“it’s a gift.”

nine decided not to wait and tenderly took your wrist, slipping the watch on your non-dominant hand and fastening the straps, so that it would fit nicely. your paralyzed heart beat to the rhythm of the soft ticking because you were afraid of your own reaction to nine’s warmth intimately interfusing with your skin.

“i want you to keep it.”

you traced the glass with the tip of your finger, admiring the design and red and blue colouring.

“thank you, nine. in that case, i will treasure it—“

you felt a second spark of heat, only this time on your cheek. the world around shrank, as your vision suddenly was focused on nine’s white collar. a pleasant smell of soap tickled your nose, as well as raven hair.

nine placed one hesitant kiss on your face before halting in uncertainty and pressing another one – that could be defined as loving and savouring. he pulled away little by little, glancing at his feet.

“… i will be waiting for you by the lockers.”

and just like that, the door behind him closed.

[ephemeral-sorrow]

experiencing jealousy towards you [twelve]

in spite of always trying to see the bright side of numerous matters in life, twelve is actually pretty insecure when it comes to his soul.

his blazing smile and lively twinkling eyes have always been a façade for those around him, as he was concealing his true feelings and worries from the outside world, fearing that it will shatter him, shall he be careless in letting someone peek into his dark heart.

that being said, you must have been… special. so undeniably and truly important for twelve to open up and allow you to take place in the deepest part of his being. so deep that, in fact, he wouldn`t be able to rip you out, no matter how much he strained against the better judgement.

the venomous, spiky roots of jealousy will effortlessly slither their way through his chest. they will burn him alive from inside out, but twelve won`t drop the facetious smile resting on his glued lips. the mere assumption that you might turn your back on him for someone better, more stable, more reliable, someone normal  destroys him like a time bomb.

he will keep the mood light and fun, not wanting to ruin your day with overbearing questions and anything that will make you uncomfortable. the last thing he wants is for both of you to become distant and lose an intimate deep connection you share.

he will forever stay faithful to you and support the decisions you make, regardless of him internally approving or not, because he respects and values your opinion; if you told him not to offend or hold a grudge against the said person, he would relent, albeit reluctantly, as his concern and possessiveness increase tenfold. however, twelve would not hesitate to use force to protect you. he will go as far as risk his own safety to ensure no harm is coming your way, ask nine to check up the information about the person and lord forgive them if they turn out to be some scumbag, that dared to rest their filthy hands on you.

as for the physical aspect, twelve will touch you often: be it him holding your hand, supporting you by the small of your back in a respectful manner or caringly tucking the strand of hair behind your ear as a poor attempt to cover up his longing to gently caress your cheek with his warm fingertips. on the rare occasion, when despair cracks his pained heart open, he may surprise you with an impulsive hug. his thin arms hold you with unseen passion and strength, as if afraid you might disappear into the void of tokyo.

“twelve…” you whisper into the outline of his collarbone, breathing in his gingery smell, unable to quiet down the frantic beating of your confused heart. the proximity sent every nerve ablaze, making your mind swirl with thoughts and emotions; the questions threatening to arise simultaneously died on your tongue. you reached your arms and carefully enwinded them around twelve’s neck, pulling your bodies closer until you felt complete.

you could`ve sworn you`ve heard him exhale shakily.

“(name), you do not spare my feelings, do you?” he attempted to laugh as cheerfully as he always did, but the sound that came out of his mouth was forced; in contradiction to his voice, a palm on your back was rubbing comforting and loving patterns. “letting him touch your face like that.”

“he kept saying i looked funny with my hair being messy…”

“he was hitting on you.” it wasn`t the fact that the guy didn’t acknowledge him that troubled twelve, but rather your blindness to such sly methods used to get a hold on you. the slightest insinuation of you possibly being hurt by some individual messed with his head.

when you kept quiet for too long, unable to work out a response out of astonishment, twelve sighed and pulled away a little, lightly gripping your shoulders and making you gaze into his languid, soft russet eyes.

“you have no idea how… worried i am that someday i won`t be near to protect you.”

[ephemeral-sorrow]

The Old Man and His Yorkie - William x Reader

This story was inspired by an old man who lives down the street from me. He must be at least in his 60's, but every morning, rain or shine, he takes his little old Yorkie on a walk. It's always so sweet to see. So, I decided to write a YuuMori story based on it.

This is also a continuation of one of my most popular YuuMori posts. I'll link it here.

*************

London, England. 1946.

Samuel had grown up in this area.

Sure, he had been homeless since he was a little boy, the great depression and world War having stolen his parents from him long ago. But besides that, he had had a fairly happy 12 years of life so far. And he knew his little neighborhood up and down.

To the left of the alley he slept in was a butcher shop. The meat that was spare, or that had gone off, would be given to him sometimes. Mr. Kats made sure of that.

Down on one side of the street was a house that had a boy his age in it. They would play sometimes together, getting into all sorts of mischief. The boys name was Charles.

Which was what led him to this situation.

You see, there was a man on the other far end of the street. He was likely in his 70's, with a face that must have once been handsome before it was marred with scarring and age. He had been raised as a noble man, but that was all the boys really knew about him. He rarely left his house. His groceries were brought to him by a boy he paid to deliver. Even his mail was left on his doorstep.

His house had to be older than he was. It was like a big, terrifying monster looming over the neighborhood. Large and old fashioned, with an old, dilapidated winding porch and overgrown garden. A Victorian style home. Not many of those were around anymore, as most of them had been destroyed during the Blitz. Hell, a few rooms on the right wing of the house had actually been destroyed by the bombings. They had since been cleaned out, there contents long gone and destroyed, but the damaged rooms still remained.

The old man only went outside once per day. The man, likely in his 70's, would put his little old Yorkie dog on a leash, and take her for a walk. She was a small, frail little thing. Floppy ears and a fluffy body. She was clearly the only part of the old man’s life that was actually well cared for.

The boys had been playing catch near his house that morning during said walk, and they didn't realize how roughly they were playing til a baseball sailed over Charlie's head, straight through the old man's window.

Charlie ran. Leaving Samuel all alone.

He couldn't bring himself to run away. It wasn't in his spirit to let such damages go unpaid for. Even if he had barely pennies to his name, he'd still try to help somewhere. Someone to painstakingly weed and take care of his garden? A young, strong body to destroy and clean up the damaged rooms on the right wing? Since the depression, dollar values had still yet to go down. The cost to repair the window would likely be enormous, at least in Samuel’s eyes.

"Are you lost, boy?" The old man. He was back already. His little dog was nosing Samuel's pant leg.

He shook. He had never heard the man's voice before. It was soft, much softer than he was expecting.

"I apologize, sir. My friend and I got too close to your house while playing a game, and, well,..." He gestured to the shattered window.

To Samuel's surprise, the old man only smiled.

"Is that all, boy? It's quite alright. You're young. Accidents happen. You mustn't worry about it. Feel free to scurry off."

"But sir," Samuel shook his head, "I want to repay you for the trouble. I may have no money, but I can help in any other way you would like." He felt near tears. The man was being too kind, even though he had done something so careless and destructive.

The little dog tried to jump on him.

"Hush, Oakley." The old man gently tugged on the leash, "if you insist, child. What is your name?"

"Samuel."

"Samuel... lovely to meet you. My name is William Moriarty. And, to repay me..."

Samuel shivered. Would he be subjected to a life of yardwork? Lose an arm due to dangerous working hazards? What if-?

"... help me clean up the shattered glass."

“… Huh?”

*****************

The old man - William’s- house was always scary on the outside. Old and unclean, one side wearing away from the strong winds. Samuel had been afraid of it growing up. Steered clear of it on his normal begging corners. Even walked an extra ten minutes back to his alley just to avoid it.

On the inside, it was actually quite lovely. He had never been in a place so nice. The rug was softer than any of the old, tattered sheets he had slept on. There was a modest, brick fireplace in the center of the living room. It was the summer, so it looked as though it hadn’t been used in quite a while. But the sight of it alone made him want to curl up on the rug in front of it.

"Young man, could you please fetch the broom and dustpan? It's in the broom closet to your right." William was untying Oakley from his leash.

"Yes, sir!" Samuel grabbed it immediately. If this was all the old man was asking for, then he'd do it the best he could. Old wooden broom and dustpan in hand, he started sweeping up the glass.

As he swept, he couldn't help but admire the pictures of the walls. There were at least 20 of them.

Ah, his suspicions had been correct. Mr. William had been quite a handsome man in his youth. A few of the pictures included William, with two men by his side. One, taller, with deep hair to his shoulders. The other looking strikingly similar to William himself.

He was so enamored that he didn't even hear the footsteps behind him.

"Ah, you're a curious one, aren't you?"

Samuel nearly dropped the dustpan full of glass, "Oh! My apologies, sir! I'll avoid looking at them."

William chuckled, "No, no. It's all good, son. Those are my brothers." He gestured to the picture once more, "The taller one is Albert. He's my elder by a few years. And the one to my right - with the same hair color as me- that's my other brother, Louis. My little brother."

Samuel nodded, "and what about that picture, sir?"

The image he was pointing to was different, and Samuel knew it. While most of the portraits on the walls were dusty, this one was clean. It was a picture of a woman. Her hair was pulled into an updo, her lips tinted with light rouge. In her lap was a little Yorkie, similar to Oakley, but smaller. A bow was in its hair, the same tone as her dress.

"It's important to you, isn't it, Mister?"

The old man nodded, "You're quite a clever little boy, aren't you? You remind me of a man I used to know..." He turned his gaze to the picture. Almost as if on instinct, his hand grazed the side of its frame, straightening it ever so slightly, a fond look in his eyes, "That's my wife, dear boy."

His eyes went wide, "Your wife? But, sir, I've never seen her."

Again, William chuckled, "I'd be concerned if you did. She's been dead for at least 30 years now."

Samuel shut up immediately. The aura in the room had gone cold and blue.

"My apologies, sir. I didn't mean to bring back sad memories. I'll dispose of this glass and be on my way."

A hand was on his shoulder.

"No, son. Its alright. Why don't you stay a little longer? You look starved. Would your parents be alright with that?"

Samuel couldn't meet the man's kind, scarlet eyes, "I wouldn't know, sir. I don't have parents."

********

A hot meal was in his hands before he knew it. Beef roast and mashed potatoes, piping hot. William had settled him into a plush, comfortable chair.

Even while eating, he found his eyes drawn to that picture. She was beautiful, indeed.

"... would you like to know more about her? My dearest Y/N?"

Samuel found himself nodding before his brain even processed the information.

William had gotten up from his seat, reaching into a cabinet. He pulled out a stack of old photos, placing them on the armrest of Samuel's chair.

"I never thought I would settle down until I met her, you know. She was so kind, and sweet. I felt something for her before I even met her."

Samuel flipped through the photos in his hands. A picture, of her in a wedding dress. William beside her, wearing a suit. Their hands together, big smiles on their faces.

"I'd see her out my window every day. It was my brother, Albert, who asked if she could come inside for tea. I met the love of my life that day. And she was always so kind, too. I don't know what I did to deserve her."

Another picture. Her sitting down,William standing beside her, her belly swollen with child.

"Our wedding was lovely. I loved her more than anything. Within the year, she was with child. I remember crying the day she told me."

"Is your daughter living in another town?" The question slipped out before he could stop it.

William shook his head, "It was a girl, actually. But no. Neither my dearest Y/N or my daughter survived the pregnancy. There were too many complications. I lost my daughter before she was when born. And the infection took Y/N soon after."

"I- I'm so sorry, sir. I shouldn't have asked."

William smiled sadly, "its quite alright, son. It's getting late though. You should be getting home."

Before Samuel left, William ruffled his hair, "Come back for a hot meal sometime. It would be my pleasure."

[ephemeral-sorrow]

this is a definition of beautiful and heart-warming.

guuuuuys, i think i created something :)

[ephemeral-sorrow]

you're making me blush so hard, i bet i would fry the screen--

thank you, thank you so much for reading

(づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ

jake x male!mc x darkness as best buddies/partners in crime [part 2]

A/N: the main push i needed to write a second part of these series is @lem-onchan 's amazing art of Darkness. better than i would've ever imagined and still right on the spot!

➢ a quiet foyer of a grey faceless block of flats in the depths of a busy city centre.

➢ laced with unspoken curiosity, your confident steps were followed by nearly audible ones. hadn’t it been for the shuffling of the worn shoes, you wouldn’t fight the urge to look back and see who was trailing behind. Jake climbed the stairs with lesser enthusiasm than you, albeit he remained steady and didn’t appear to be willing to voice any doubts, which was a good sign already – he was as invested in this peculiar case as you. and while absentmindedly smiling with relief, as you moved up the spiral staircase, you did a little review in your head.

➢ about a day ago, you received a strange message via email, suggesting a requested investigation of a recent murder case. although such tasks weren’t entirely uncommon for both of you, the way a supposed client contacted you was rather specific. in fact, it was him who found Jake’s hideout and knocked on the door in the ungodly hour of night.

➢ you vividly remember turning to the sound in a flash, clearly being intimidated by it, though Jake’s blue hues only calmly drifted away from the monitor, as his endless typing ceased. briefly looking at each other, you nodded at him, carefully drawing a gun hidden under the floorboard near the couch.

➢ you stealthily approached the door, expecting it to burst open any moment. instead, the measured knocking repeated, as if the person behind it was politely waiting to be let in. however, you weren’t the one to be fooled. doubt grew within you rapidly, as you suspiciously prodded possible explanations for such a strange occurrence; it was unlikely that some delivery boy got lost and stumbled to your and Jake’s flat to get money for his pizza. although, you`d gladly choose him over a friendly visit of a several police officers.

“who is it?”

“it`s Themis, l.k.l.m”, replied a man’s voice steadily.

➢ eyes widening, you once again looked over at your partner, still unbothered, sitting with his legs crossed and tired gaze focused solemnly on the door alone. it was a password for visitors – one that was changed every week in terms of safety – and the one guaranteeing the client wasn’t a sly conman or a well-informed third party, who wanted to gain an easy entrance. nobody could get it without reliable channels you placed your trust in, so this late-night stranger awoke a thirsty interest, promising a perhaps good piece of work for the future morning.

“what’re you talking about, sir?” you tried to feign ignorance to check the visitor further. “you must be either drunk or out of your mind to disturb people so late. go or else i’m calling the cops.”

“no!” the voice on the other side rose in panic. you almost missed the desperation in it. “i’m sure i-i got the right flat. i’m from Tino. Tino sent me there.”

that statement finally let you feel convinced. you swiftly hid the gun in the breast pocket of your jacket and twisted the doorknob – revealing a skinny bloke with disheveled fair hair, dressed in worn jeans and a funny shirt. overall, he reminded you of a clueless high school kid, though he didn’t appear younger than both you and Jake.

“then come in.” you chirped, greeting him with a bold twinkle in your eyes and a laid-back, lopsided grin; you moved to the side, allowing a slightly confused guy to enter the apartment. Jake warily analysed his movements before spinning in his chair to face the guest properly.

you promptly closed the door, and then there was an uneasy pause.

“so you’re these guys everyone’s been talking about on the news… right?” the stranger began his speech rather haphazardly, almost audibly gulping the lump in his throat.

“maybe.” Jake replied drily without a hint of a smile.

“we don’t watch telly much these days, you know?” you tried to compensate the chilliness in the hacker’s tone and kept the conversation going in hope to unhurriedly discover the guest’s identity. you gestured to a pile of papers and photos of different people on the desk. “a lotta work to do.”

that seemed to relax a visitor way more than how Jake addressed him with one word.

“i bet. so these rumours were true, after all…” he mumbled with visible relief. “i was really hoping you’d help me with my case.”

“who do we owe the pleasure to?” you kept a collected smile on your face, desiring to obtain necessary information before any matters.

“oh. my name is Daniel Garrett.”

“MC, and this unfriendly however genius fellow over here is Jake. he won’t bite but I make no promises.”

Jake pressed his lips together at your antics.

“we work as a team.”

“Tino assured me you two would help me out, no matter the difficulty.”

“considering you do already know his name and whereabouts, i guess it’s useless to hide the fact he’s our informant.” the hacker said seriously, clenching and unclenching his fingers and making the dark rings adorning them look more prominent. ���as our potential client, you’re sworn to keep that in secret, even if we end up turning down your case.”

“i understand.”

“i sense a “but”.”

the fair-haired young man looked at Jake persistently, even daringly, having a sudden air of confidence.

“i’m afraid you won’t turn it down, because everything will change soon. and this widescale case will be impossible to overlook, no matter how much we try.” his words carried a sense of regret. “the person dear to me already fell victim to this and there will be even more casualties if we do not hurry.”

both you and your partner looked at each other, intimidated by such statements.

“Daniel, do you mind being a little more concrete?” you wordlessly pointed at the couch, offering Garrett a seat. he accepted it with a slight nod.

“i believe my friend was killed by anonymous users of some weird group chat.” Daniel paused, collecting his thoughts. “… his name was Jamie. the body found recently in the abandoned mart belonged to him. this incident attracted a lot of attention…”

“… as it was quickly shut down.” Jake tuned in. “the case gained quite the resonance on forums.”

“yes. that’s right. so you do know what i’m talking about.”

“but i still don’t get why you are so sure we will agree on this case.” the inquiry hacker sent Daniel’s way was too sharp, and Garrett directed an angry glare at him.

“don’t get him wrong, Jake is just trying to ask for more details.”

“because the number of such terrible occurrences is increasing. the net is not even moderately safe anymore. i know there were other people who died under such mysterious circumstances as those which are surrounding Jamie’s death. all from our city. all relatively similar in interests and occupations. Jamie… he told me about entering this group two months ago and since then he drastically changed. he spent all his time in front of the computer or outside, going god knows where. and then he disappeared and never came back. what i’m trying to say is… i contacted relatives of the similar victims and they reported the same behaviour as what happened afterwards those guys joined the group.”

“in other words?”

“in other words, i need the assistance of the professionals to know the truth.”

➢ having plunged deep into the memories of the yesterday evening, you came to realise that the correct door was inches from your nose. Jake reached an arm and rang the bell for you, not commenting on your thoughtfulness.

➢ a few moments later, you were greeted with as usual amusing sight of your peculiar acquaintance, dressed in his fluffy blue sweatpants and home t-shirt with kittens. he seemingly only came out of bed, having not even rubbed his sleepy grey eyes. he had bed hair, unruly chestnut locks stuck to his forehead. he was scratching his belly with one hand and holding a mug of steaming coffee in the other. his posture mirrored one of a puzzled person, who was processing what the hell you and Jake were doing on his doorstep.

➢ you smiled cheerfully.

“hello, Darkness, my old friend. care to tell us passionately about the most popular forums lately?”

[ephemeral-sorrow]

Thank you so much, that's ME on the verge of tears right now

(ﾉಥ益ಥ）ﾉ ┻━┻ 😭❤

jake x male!mc x darkness as best buddies/partners in crime [part 2]

A/N: the main push i needed to write a second part of these series is @lem-onchan 's amazing art of Darkness. better than i would've ever imagined and still right on the spot!

➢ a quiet foyer of a grey faceless block of flats in the depths of a busy city centre.

➢ laced with unspoken curiosity, your confident steps were followed by nearly audible ones. hadn’t it been for the shuffling of the worn shoes, you wouldn’t fight the urge to look back and see who was trailing behind. Jake climbed the stairs with lesser enthusiasm than you, albeit he remained steady and didn’t appear to be willing to voice any doubts, which was a good sign already – he was as invested in this peculiar case as you. and while absentmindedly smiling with relief, as you moved up the spiral staircase, you did a little review in your head.

➢ about a day ago, you received a strange message via email, suggesting a requested investigation of a recent murder case. although such tasks weren’t entirely uncommon for both of you, the way a supposed client contacted you was rather specific. in fact, it was him who found Jake’s hideout and knocked on the door in the ungodly hour of night.

➢ you vividly remember turning to the sound in a flash, clearly being intimidated by it, though Jake’s blue hues only calmly drifted away from the monitor, as his endless typing ceased. briefly looking at each other, you nodded at him, carefully drawing a gun hidden under the floorboard near the couch.

➢ you stealthily approached the door, expecting it to burst open any moment. instead, the measured knocking repeated, as if the person behind it was politely waiting to be let in. however, you weren’t the one to be fooled. doubt grew within you rapidly, as you suspiciously prodded possible explanations for such a strange occurrence; it was unlikely that some delivery boy got lost and stumbled to your and Jake’s flat to get money for his pizza. although, you`d gladly choose him over a friendly visit of a several police officers.

“who is it?”

“it`s Themis, l.k.l.m”, replied a man’s voice steadily.

➢ eyes widening, you once again looked over at your partner, still unbothered, sitting with his legs crossed and tired gaze focused solemnly on the door alone. it was a password for visitors – one that was changed every week in terms of safety – and the one guaranteeing the client wasn’t a sly conman or a well-informed third party, who wanted to gain an easy entrance. nobody could get it without reliable channels you placed your trust in, so this late-night stranger awoke a thirsty interest, promising a perhaps good piece of work for the future morning.

“what’re you talking about, sir?” you tried to feign ignorance to check the visitor further. “you must be either drunk or out of your mind to disturb people so late. go or else i’m calling the cops.”

“no!” the voice on the other side rose in panic. you almost missed the desperation in it. “i’m sure i-i got the right flat. i’m from Tino. Tino sent me there.”

that statement finally let you feel convinced. you swiftly hid the gun in the breast pocket of your jacket and twisted the doorknob – revealing a skinny bloke with disheveled fair hair, dressed in worn jeans and a funny shirt. overall, he reminded you of a clueless high school kid, though he didn’t appear younger than both you and Jake.

“then come in.” you chirped, greeting him with a bold twinkle in your eyes and a laid-back, lopsided grin; you moved to the side, allowing a slightly confused guy to enter the apartment. Jake warily analysed his movements before spinning in his chair to face the guest properly.

you promptly closed the door, and then there was an uneasy pause.

“so you’re these guys everyone’s been talking about on the news… right?” the stranger began his speech rather haphazardly, almost audibly gulping the lump in his throat.

“maybe.” Jake replied drily without a hint of a smile.

“we don’t watch telly much these days, you know?” you tried to compensate the chilliness in the hacker’s tone and kept the conversation going in hope to unhurriedly discover the guest’s identity. you gestured to a pile of papers and photos of different people on the desk. “a lotta work to do.”

that seemed to relax a visitor way more than how Jake addressed him with one word.

“i bet. so these rumours were true, after all…” he mumbled with visible relief. “i was really hoping you’d help me with my case.”

“who do we owe the pleasure to?” you kept a collected smile on your face, desiring to obtain necessary information before any matters.

“oh. my name is Daniel Garrett.”

“MC, and this unfriendly however genius fellow over here is Jake. he won’t bite but I make no promises.”

Jake pressed his lips together at your antics.

“we work as a team.”

“Tino assured me you two would help me out, no matter the difficulty.”

“considering you do already know his name and whereabouts, i guess it’s useless to hide the fact he’s our informant.” the hacker said seriously, clenching and unclenching his fingers and making the dark rings adorning them look more prominent. “as our potential client, you’re sworn to keep that in secret, even if we end up turning down your case.”

“i understand.”

“i sense a “but”.”

the fair-haired young man looked at Jake persistently, even daringly, having a sudden air of confidence.

“i’m afraid you won’t turn it down, because everything will change soon. and this widescale case will be impossible to overlook, no matter how much we try.” his words carried a sense of regret. “the person dear to me already fell victim to this and there will be even more casualties if we do not hurry.”

both you and your partner looked at each other, intimidated by such statements.

“Daniel, do you mind being a little more concrete?” you wordlessly pointed at the couch, offering Garrett a seat. he accepted it with a slight nod.

“i believe my friend was killed by anonymous users of some weird group chat.” Daniel paused, collecting his thoughts. “… his name was Jamie. the body found recently in the abandoned mart belonged to him. this incident attracted a lot of attention…”

“… as it was quickly shut down.” Jake tuned in. “the case gained quite the resonance on forums.”

“yes. that’s right. so you do know what i’m talking about.”

“but i still don’t get why you are so sure we will agree on this case.” the inquiry hacker sent Daniel’s way was too sharp, and Garrett directed an angry glare at him.

“don’t get him wrong, Jake is just trying to ask for more details.”

“because the number of such terrible occurrences is increasing. the net is not even moderately safe anymore. i know there were other people who died under such mysterious circumstances as those which are surrounding Jamie’s death. all from our city. all relatively similar in interests and occupations. Jamie… he told me about entering this group two months ago and since then he drastically changed. he spent all his time in front of the computer or outside, going god knows where. and then he disappeared and never came back. what i’m trying to say is… i contacted relatives of the similar victims and they reported the same behaviour as what happened afterwards those guys joined the group.”

“in other words?”

“in other words, i need the assistance of the professionals to know the truth.”

➢ having plunged deep into the memories of the yesterday evening, you came to realise that the correct door was inches from your nose. Jake reached an arm and rang the bell for you, not commenting on your thoughtfulness.

➢ a few moments later, you were greeted with as usual amusing sight of your peculiar acquaintance, dressed in his fluffy blue sweatpants and home t-shirt with kittens. he seemingly only came out of bed, having not even rubbed his sleepy grey eyes. he had bed hair, unruly chestnut locks stuck to his forehead. he was scratching his belly with one hand and holding a mug of steaming coffee in the other. his posture mirrored one of a puzzled person, who was processing what the hell you and Jake were doing on his doorstep.

➢ you smiled cheerfully.

“hello, Darkness, my old friend. care to tell us passionately about the most popular forums lately?”

[ephemeral-sorrow]

jake x male!mc x darkness as best buddies/partners in crime [part 2]

A/N: the main push i needed to write a second part of these series is @lem-onchan 's amazing art of Darkness. better than i would've ever imagined and still right on the spot!

➢ a quiet foyer of a grey faceless block of flats in the depths of a busy city centre.

➢ laced with unspoken curiosity, your confident steps were followed by nearly audible ones. hadn’t it been for the shuffling of the worn shoes, you wouldn’t fight the urge to look back and see who was trailing behind. Jake climbed the stairs with lesser enthusiasm than you, albeit he remained steady and didn’t appear to be willing to voice any doubts, which was a good sign already – he was as invested in this peculiar case as you. and while absentmindedly smiling with relief, as you moved up the spiral staircase, you did a little review in your head.

➢ about a day ago, you received a strange message via email, suggesting a requested investigation of a recent murder case. although such tasks weren’t entirely uncommon for both of you, the way a supposed client contacted you was rather specific. in fact, it was him who found Jake’s hideout and knocked on the door in the ungodly hour of night.

➢ you vividly remember turning to the sound in a flash, clearly being intimidated by it, though Jake’s blue hues only calmly drifted away from the monitor, as his endless typing ceased. briefly looking at each other, you nodded at him, carefully drawing a gun hidden under the floorboard near the couch.

➢ you stealthily approached the door, expecting it to burst open any moment. instead, the measured knocking repeated, as if the person behind it was politely waiting to be let in. however, you weren’t the one to be fooled. doubt grew within you rapidly, as you suspiciously prodded possible explanations for such a strange occurrence; it was unlikely that some delivery boy got lost and stumbled to your and Jake’s flat to get money for his pizza. although, you`d gladly choose him over a friendly visit of a several police officers.

“who is it?”

“it`s Themis, l.k.l.m”, replied a man’s voice steadily.

➢ eyes widening, you once again looked over at your partner, still unbothered, sitting with his legs crossed and tired gaze focused solemnly on the door alone. it was a password for visitors – one that was changed every week in terms of safety – and the one guaranteeing the client wasn’t a sly conman or a well-informed third party, who wanted to gain an easy entrance. nobody could get it without reliable channels you placed your trust in, so this late-night stranger awoke a thirsty interest, promising a perhaps good piece of work for the future morning.

“what’re you talking about, sir?” you tried to feign ignorance to check the visitor further. “you must be either drunk or out of your mind to disturb people so late. go or else i’m calling the cops.”

“no!” the voice on the other side rose in panic. you almost missed the desperation in it. “i’m sure i-i got the right flat. i’m from Tino. Tino sent me there.”

that statement finally let you feel convinced. you swiftly hid the gun in the breast pocket of your jacket and twisted the doorknob – revealing a skinny bloke with disheveled fair hair, dressed in worn jeans and a funny shirt. overall, he reminded you of a clueless high school kid, though he didn’t appear younger than both you and Jake.

“then come in.” you chirped, greeting him with a bold twinkle in your eyes and a laid-back, lopsided grin; you moved to the side, allowing a slightly confused guy to enter the apartment. Jake warily analysed his movements before spinning in his chair to face the guest properly.

you promptly closed the door, and then there was an uneasy pause.

“so you’re these guys everyone’s been talking about on the news… right?” the stranger began his speech rather haphazardly, almost audibly gulping the lump in his throat.

“maybe.” Jake replied drily without a hint of a smile.

“we don’t watch telly much these days, you know?” you tried to compensate the chilliness in the hacker’s tone and kept the conversation going in hope to unhurriedly discover the guest’s identity. you gestured to a pile of papers and photos of different people on the desk. “a lotta work to do.”

that seemed to relax a visitor way more than how Jake addressed him with one word.

“i bet. so these rumours were true, after all…” he mumbled with visible relief. “i was really hoping you’d help me with my case.”

“who do we owe the pleasure to?” you kept a collected smile on your face, desiring to obtain necessary information before any matters.

“oh. my name is Daniel Garrett.”

“MC, and this unfriendly however genius fellow over here is Jake. he won’t bite but I make no promises.”

Jake pressed his lips together at your antics.

“we work as a team.”

“Tino assured me you two would help me out, no matter the difficulty.”

“considering you do already know his name and whereabouts, i guess it’s useless to hide the fact he’s our informant.” the hacker said seriously, clenching and unclenching his fingers and making the dark rings adorning them look more prominent. “as our potential client, you’re sworn to keep that in secret, even if we end up turning down your case.”

“i understand.”

“i sense a “but”.”

the fair-haired young man looked at Jake persistently, even daringly, having a sudden air of confidence.

“i’m afraid you won’t turn it down, because everything will change soon. and this widescale case will be impossible to overlook, no matter how much we try.” his words carried a sense of regret. “the person dear to me already fell victim to this and there will be even more casualties if we do not hurry.”

both you and your partner looked at each other, intimidated by such statements.

“Daniel, do you mind being a little more concrete?” you wordlessly pointed at the couch, offering Garrett a seat. he accepted it with a slight nod.

“i believe my friend was killed by anonymous users of some weird group chat.” Daniel paused, collecting his thoughts. “… his name was Jamie. the body found recently in the abandoned mart belonged to him. this incident attracted a lot of attention…”

“… as it was quickly shut down.” Jake tuned in. “the case gained quite the resonance on forums.”

“yes. that’s right. so you do know what i’m talking about.”

“but i still don’t get why you are so sure we will agree on this case.” the inquiry hacker sent Daniel’s way was too sharp, and Garrett directed an angry glare at him.

“don’t get him wrong, Jake is just trying to ask for more details.”

“because the number of such terrible occurrences is increasing. the net is not even moderately safe anymore. i know there were other people who died under such mysterious circumstances as those which are surrounding Jamie’s death. all from our city. all relatively similar in interests and occupations. Jamie… he told me about entering this group two months ago and since then he drastically changed. he spent all his time in front of the computer or outside, going god knows where. and then he disappeared and never came back. what i’m trying to say is… i contacted relatives of the similar victims and they reported the same behaviour as what happened afterwards those guys joined the group.”

“in other words?”

“in other words, i need the assistance of the professionals to know the truth.”

➢ having plunged deep into the memories of the yesterday evening, you came to realise that the correct door was inches from your nose. Jake reached an arm and rang the bell for you, not commenting on your thoughtfulness.

➢ a few moments later, you were greeted with as usual amusing sight of your peculiar acquaintance, dressed in his fluffy blue sweatpants and home t-shirt with kittens. he seemingly only came out of bed, having not even rubbed his sleepy grey eyes. he had bed hair, unruly chestnut locks stuck to his forehead. he was scratching his belly with one hand and holding a mug of steaming coffee in the other. his posture mirrored one of a puzzled person, who was processing what the hell you and Jake were doing on his doorstep.

➢ you smiled cheerfully.

“hello, Darkness, my old friend. care to tell us passionately about the most popular forums lately?”

[ephemeral-sorrow]

Well, that was VERY hard-- 🥲

I rarely draw guys because I'm not very good at drawing them, but it was worth it

Meet Darkness ~ In my mind, his only source of serotonin is paranormal documentaries and hanging out on the Dark mystery forum, lol--

[ephemeral-sorrow]

[ephemeral-sorrow]

The evil it spread like a fever ahead...

... It was night when you died, my firefly.