#𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰.

[deartoru]

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥

++ 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: megumi x fem!reader ++ 𝘀𝘆𝗽𝗻𝗼𝘀𝗶𝘀 (of series): with an unlikely friendship set in place, the relationship is doomed to fail with both families in raging in conflict. ++ 𝘀𝘆𝗽𝗻𝗼𝘀𝗶𝘀 (of chapter): you are forced to attend a masquerade ball with your stepmother, but you find more than what you bargained for. ++ 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: slight fluff and angst idk :sob: ++ 𝘁𝘄/𝗰𝘄: violence, abuse (?), and smoking ++ 𝘄𝗰: 1k ++ 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: want to be added to the taglist? send me an ask or a dm! taglist is currently open. ++ 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: hey hey lovelies!! i finally had some inspo to write and i pumped out a chapter of a series i've been putting off for so long! i hope u enjoy and likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated !! <33

ao3 || masterlist

Two clans, alike in status have always fought over something so insignificant you could never wrap your head around it. The Gojo clan and the Zen’in clan have always been at each other's throats for as long as they have existed.

And you were __ Gojo.

The half-blood of the Gojo clan; a disgrace to the family. An unsightly bug that walked the surface of the earth. The only reason you were allowed into the family register was the fact that you possessed six eyes and the ability to use infinity. It is not like you had much of a choice either way. You had nobody left outside of your paternal family, and your mother? Well, that is a story for another time. However, the power of the Gojo clan is absolute, and so is the Zen’in clans. You were dragged into the world of nobles, without any prior knowledge.

-

That’s why you were here, at this mundane masquerade ball. All nobles and high-class people were the same. The sound of glasses clinking and empty chatter filled the air and halls of the ballroom. You trudged through the ballroom, escaping the empty banter of those around you. Your head throbbed from all of the bright lights and the noisy ballroom. You find a terrace nearby and head there for refuge, shocked to see someone was already standing at the edge of the terrace.

You look at the person’s form deducing that they’re a young man around your age. You walk up to the edge of the terrace, grabbing a box of cigarettes from your pocket. Leaning on the terrace railing, you grab a lighter from your pocket. You lazily light up the cigarette between your lips, exhaling a puff of smoke shortly after. You turn to the stranger next to you.

“Would you like a cigarette?” you uttered, your voice barely audible.

He nods in agreement before taking one of the cigarettes between his slender fingers.

“May I use your lighter?” the man inquired before you handed your lighter over to him.

You both shared a comfortable silence before finishing your cigarettes.

-

“What brought you here to the terrace?” You ask, staring into the landscape in front of you.

“I don’t like parties very much” he mumbled, turning his gaze towards you. “Neither do I, they’re quite bothersome in my opinion.” You blatantly stated as you turned toward the man standing next to you.

“I only come here because I’m forced to go.” You added.

“It’s an annoying thing we must do, unfortunately.” He replied, you nodded your head in agreement.

“The night sky looks quite beautiful tonight, others may say it’s boring but I find beauty in its simplicity.”

His eyes lit up hearing this statement. From that moment forward you shared a fruitful conversation with him. You don’t know how or why but you clicked with him instantly.

-

Your conversation with him was cut short as a shrill voice was heard outside the halls. It was your stepmother. You looked around frantically trying to find where she was before bidding the male goodbye.

“May I ask for your name?” You asked the black-haired male. “It’s Megumi, and you?” “My name is _.

You dashed off the terrace before making your way into the hallway to meet your stepmom there. “Where have you been, you insolent brat?!” Her shrill screams fill the ballroom as she speaks. “I was only looking for the restroom-” A harsh sting on your cheek and ringing in your ears cut you off. The taste of blood seeping into your mouth, this familiar sensation, the one of being slapped.

“Stop lying to me! You’ve been smoking again haven’t you?!” You stared into the woman’s eyes, face remaining expressionless.

“OH! For goodness sake just say something from that damned mouth of yours for once!”

You remained silent, listening to her harsh words as you walked out of the building. On the way out and the car ride back to the estate, you didn’t dare to open your mouth. This was a regular occurrence. Your stepmother hated your guts, for reasons you don’t know. Keeping quiet and never showing emotion was the only way to survive in the Gojo household. Never talking back was the one way to be left alone. Never showing emotion was to never give them the satisfaction of truly winning.

-

As soon as you arrived back at the estate, you were escorted by your kind and loving maid, Marie.

“Young Miss! What on earth happened to your face?!” exclaimed Marie as soon as she saw your swollen cheek. “My stepmother.” You deadpanned before climbing up the stairs.

“I’ll run a bath for you while I fetch an ice pack,” she stated before escorting you to your room.

The sound of running water soon filled the room as steam surrounded you and left a fog in its path. You slipped into the balmy water, letting the warmth of the bath take over you. The warmth seeps into your bones as you submerged yourself in the water. The world turns black and it’s silent; you're at peace. The silence turns into ringing and the black fades into nothing. Your escape from the real world has always been by distracting yourself with trivial things.

Marie bursts into the room, quickly pulling you out of the water and placing the ice pack on your inflamed cheek. She scolded you for putting your head underwater, but all you did was nod in agreement.

After washing up, you change into your nightgown and sat outside on the balcony of your room. You get up and look for a cigarette before lighting it up in between your fingers. You place it between your lips, letting the nicotine rush to your head. A fuzzy warmth clouds your senses as you finish one after another.

You stop the nth cigarette, before flicking it out on the ground. You stare up at the night sky, remembering the brief conversation you held with Megumi. A slight smile is found on your face as you remember the exchange between the two of you. It wasn’t unpleasant, in fact, it was quite the opposite.

-

At the same time, a certain dark-haired male remembered you. He stared up at the blank ceiling of his bedroom, recalling your interaction with him. He wonders if he’ll ever meet you again, knowing that the chances are slim.

-

It would take something only short of fate for the two of you to encounter each other once more, but it seems like fate has something cruel twisted up in it’s pocket this time.

[botheringlevi]

𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐦𝐛 𝐆𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐔𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐦𝐞

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐁𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞

𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞

𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐈 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐠𝐮𝐧 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐦𝐞

𝐖𝐚𝐢𝐭, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐈 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐈'𝐦 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞

–ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ᴜɴᴅᴏɴᴇ // ᴋᴏʀɴ

[seraphiism]

Hello! Thank you for opening requests! How have you been? May i request ' will you remember that i existed, and that i stood next to you here like this? ' ( haruki murakami ) + gojo satoru?

𓆩 ღ 𓆪 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰

( will you remember that i existed, & that i stood next to you here like this? )

chara : gojo satoru fandom : jujutsu kaisen quote cr : prompt post ( x ). haruki murakami

ANOTHER DEAD BODY DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING WHEN YOU'RE ALWAYS WEARING BLACK.

you've heard that before , the words an echo in state of decay. endless ringing in your ears. the person who spoke those words is a dead man walking now, and you cannot wait to spill his blood. it will be an act of cruelty and mercy in one, and maybe you tell yourself that in justification of violence. it doesn't matter, anyway, the difference between sinner & saint.

YOU SHOULD BE IN A CATHEDRAL , SOMEWHERE IN THE SHELTER OF HOLINESS ( YOU WOULD FEEL SOMETHING, THEN ). the rain drenches your figures ; there's an umbrella somewhere in this crowd, but gojo doesn't care to grab it, and neither do you. you stand, shoulder to shoulder, lifeless, devoid, the last of your humanity flooding through your veins.

his hands are fists, hidden in his pockets.

spoken words of kindness and goodbyes go unheard, fall upon deaf ears. it is storming somewhere, but not here. you hear it, somehow, the thunder a distant sign of what is to come. you tilt your head, fingers laced together as you watch the casket lower into the ground. who is in there? you have forgotten already. who are you, and are you there? have they lost your corpse in a forest where they will never find you again?

you whisper an empty i'm sorry, and gojo hears it.

and maybe he apologizes too, but the thunder roars, fills your ears with nothing but numbness in protection of his vulnerability.

you stand there, frozen, until the morrow passes, until the gray skies twist into black and even the stars do not grant you their presence. the crowd is gone now. still, it rains, but you do not move, waiting for the dull thud in your chest to stop. you cannot describe this pain, the ache in your bones, the heaviness that graces itself in every fiber of your being.

it begins to storm. the rain pours and pours. a coldness brews itself into the hollowness you know to be your reflection, the puddles at your feet muddled with conflicted mourning and indifference. your lips part, and you are frightened.

( YOU ARE GOING TO RELIVE THIS. YOU ARE GOING TO RELIVE THIS, AREN'T YOU? )

the thunder rings again, sends shivers down your spine. you tremble, disturbed at the newfound anxiety that weighs heavy at the pit of your stomach. you will not relive this, you realize, eyes wide, lips parted with the forewarning, but satoru will, and it will be at your funeral.

"i don't remember who that was." you begin, voice thick with preemptive grief. "i hope you don't forget me when the time comes."

he is silent. you expect a lighthearted joke, the parting of ways on a brighter note. but he grabs the umbrella, holds it over your head. his hand finds yours. it is cold and warm at the same time, a mess of comfort and unbelonging, and you hope that there's a promise of remembrance somewhere in the little space between your palms.

still, it rains, but neither of you move.