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foranpo · 6 days

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PAWNS IN THE COSMOS

‧₊˚ ┊synopsis ... in a world where your soulmate is chosen by you, you wanted to be sure you would be happy as you delve into the complex webs of love.

‧₊˚ ┊fandom ... jujutsu kaisen. ㅤㅤ‧₊˚ ft. ... geto x gn!reader, gojo x gn!reader. ‧₊˚ ┊au! ... soulmates, college. ‧₊˚ ┊genre ... one-shot. ㅤㅤ‧₊˚ content ... fluff, angst. ㅤㅤ‧₊˚ word count ... 5.1k. ‧₊˚ ┊cole's note ... yes, the uni bits were based on my personal experience, ignore that and enjoy ur reading ♡

How is a person defined?

Of course we can delve into personality tangents and unique character traits that only each of us possesses in a perfect combination of stars and magic. However, this alone is not enough. A person is created by more than mere looks and personality; there are dreams, each person's own ways, unique hearts that shine with specific colors conceived by each thought, each action, each desire.

A single personality is not enough to define a person – and all the gods knew this. And as such, a new system was created.

Numbers.

What else to define a person than the infinity of numbers that made up the universe?

All human beings were born marked with simple numbers that dictated their souls; from zero to infinity, passing through the infinities of decimals that each one had for having managed to acquire a body in that new world.

Stuck on the back of their necks, hidden by occasional hair and various clothes, the numbers became something sacred in that society; not only was it something that defined a person, that made them unique, but they were also the main factor in relationships and connections. The thing is, bored with the eternity of cosmic lives, the gods liked to create small games that helped them in the static passage of time – and what more exciting than guiding the various lost souls to their better half?

A soulmate was something primordial.

Created long before the first star was born, soulmates roamed the world hand in hand, their stardust unique to each pair created by the various gods. They were essences without bodies, united only by cosmic dust that insisted on cradling them in the eternities of time and space in the universe. However, just star and cosmic dust was something monotonous, without any substance of its own, without a body of its own that made everything much easier to see, to be marveled at.

Thus, the first humans were created.

A connection that was only felt by the universe, beautified by the stars and constellations that they made their homes, was now something tangible, something that could be seen, something that could be admired. And, since then, relationships began to blossom in the world according to the seasons, making all the love that was felt to be the cause of all the misfortunes and happiness in the world.

Every year, small letters with a specific number and initials appeared on the bedside tables of thousands of people, a hint to eternal happiness appearing in black tones on a white background.

For years, humans followed their cards, creating happy and fulfilled lives for centuries, never once contesting the appearance of neither their cards nor their veracity; the gods commanded, the humans followed.

“Eighty-three million, two hundred and twenty thousand, six hundred and seventy-four point one hundred and ninety-three.”

“What?”

Gojo placed his apple juice on the table and looked at his friend, intrigued by the numbers he recited so naturally.

“It’s their number.”

“Their?” Gojo raised an eyebrow and let out a small pretentious smile, knowing perfectly well who Geto was talking about.

“Their. I saw it yesterday when they got off the bus. It was very brief, but I'm sure that was the number.”

“And what do you intend to do with this life-changing information?”

Geto looked at Gojo for the first time since they sat at the bar table. A smile played on the brunette's lips, his dark eyes shining with the possibilities that danced in his mind.

He leaned forward, his chest almost touching the plate with his sandwich and, in a whisper too low for such a noisy space, Geto spoke in a soft and quite convinced voice.

“Write down this number and compare it to the one on my card.”

“Have you received your card yet?”

Gojo's question came out automatically, a trace of nervousness clinging to the various syllables, his blue eyes widening behind his sunglasses.

“Not yet,” Geto sighed and resumed his starting position, playing with some loose crumbs from his sandwich. “But I believe it’s coming soon. I don’t know how to explain it, but every time I look at them…”

The words that were going to come out of Geto died in his mouth without having a chance to see the light of day. Taken by a mystical force, a chance written by the cosmos, Geto raised his face at the exact moment you entered the bar.

You looked beautiful that day.

Favored by the beauty of that day, the sun's rays painted your smile golden; your eyes shone with the light of new experiences, your words sounding as delicate as the breeze that day.

You entered the bar without any worries, your laugh filling the space with the delicacy of its sound. You were with your group of friends, looking for a free table in that crowded bar for you to have lunch before your afternoon class. Your eyes scanned the compartment with some hope, a smile lingering on your lips after a joke from your best friend.

And then you noticed. In all that confusion, oblivious to your friends' conversations, too focused on finding a place to sit, you saw Geto looking at you. Static, without any thought beyond his eyes, without any reaction when you approached him, your smile expanding with each step you took.

“Hello,” you stopped behind Gojo, one of your hands resting on his chair as your eyes jumped from Geto to Gojo. “Ready for the test?”

Gojo put his hands on his head, ruffling some of his silky hair as he let out a small growl, which made you laugh. And what a laugh. What a melody sung by your lips that seemed to fill the entire bar, drowning out every sound that appeared there.

“I spent the night studying, but I couldn’t memorize anything,” Gojo's outburst was accompanied by a tired sigh, his body leaning back against the chair, making you let go of it. “I don’t think even a miracle could save me.”

“Think of it like this,” you walked to the side of the table, Geto and Gojo on your sides, your group of friends in front of you waiting for you. “It’s about the Bible. Jesus will be with you.”

Gojo gave you a small frown and picked up his apple juice again, giving Geto a little kick under the table.

“And you? Are you ready?” Geto spoke finally, holding his sandwich and taking a small bite as he waited for your response.

“What helps me is being able to take the Bible with me,” you confessed between smiles and winks. “But I’m confident. Our presentation actually went well.”

“The teacher liked it,” Geto set down his sandwich and looked at you. “I think we even make a good team.”

“And I wouldn’t give anything for you two,” you smiled as you gently ruffled Gojo’s hair. “Well, I'm going now. See you later.”

Geto followed you with his gaze out of the bar, the way your body walked excitedly towards your friends, the way your smile didn't leave your lips for a single second.

“Eighty-three million, two hundred and twenty thousand, six hundred and seventy-four point one hundred and ninety-three.” Geto repeated it again under his breath, his eyes still fixed on the bar door.

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“I can’t believe the teacher gave us more work,” Geto grunted, storming into his room. “Where do you want to start?”

He placed his Bible on the desk, throwing his backpack onto the bed. Gojo followed in his footsteps, throwing the book on the bed and placing the backpack on the floor, opening it immediately with a sigh.

“We can start with the document the teacher gave us…” Gojo’s voice was full of doubts and uncertainties, his hands frantically searching his backpack for his notebook. “We can read it and go from there.”

Geto didn't say anything.

Sitting down at the desk, the brunette turned on his computer and waited a few moments until his desktop began to glow in shades of blue and silver. “You start with the document and I’ll look for which books we need to study.”

Gojo nodded and, after making himself comfortable on his best friend's bed, he began to dive into the waves of knowledge in the document, reading and rereading concepts and terms, looking for something in the various lines of ink that could help him in his new work.

Geto, in turn, opened the web page, typing a few words before spending minutes opening and closing tabs, desperately looking for help. Beside him, the Bible was open, several sheets of papers and memory aids reminding Geto which books he needed to highlight and look deeper into.

Shrouded in stories and theories, the two friends didn't notice as the hours passed; Too focused on their work, taking some notes and highlighting the most important thing, Geto and Gojo disconnected from the outside world, believing that, the sooner they finished that work, the sooner they would free themselves from the academic responsibilities that gave them so many headaches.

The sun was slowly setting.

From Geto's bedroom window, the various street lamps began to shine with the certainty that a long night was approaching; cars and people retired to their homes at the end of a long day of work and in the sky, between the soft clouds and the dark blue expanse, several stars made their way to the earth, telling in their death endless stories of past memories and lives lived.

Geto stretched out in his chair. Putting down the computer mouse for a moment and looking away from the screen for the first time since he got home, Geto felt tired. Totally devastated by a complicated day in his life: the Classical Texts exam had gone wrong, no matter how many prayers were in the Bible, he knew that his grade would go down; the teacher, at the end of the exam, gave his students one last assignment in a week full of exams and presentations; and, to end the last ray of hope in Geto, that day had been another day in which he was unable to do anything other than admire you.

It had been almost two years, but Geto had simply withdrawn into a bubble of shyness that prevented him from functioning decently in front of you. He didn't understand why, but you had a power over him; like a spell, an enchantment that prevented him from functioning normally in your presence. It all happened so fast, he didn't even remember the first time he succumbed to your charms, but, once consumed by your unique, cosmic essence, he found himself trapped in a web of emotions that prevented him from leaving.

But now was not the time to dwell on you. Now Geto had an obligation to fulfill and, as much as he wanted to ignore it, he knew that his responsibility as a student had to be pleased.

“Do you want to order food?”

Gojo straightened up in bed, putting his pencil behind his ear, adjusting his sunglasses on his head. “I’m not very hungry…”

“But we need to eat,” Geto stood up with a small grunt, walking away from the desk and grabbing his cell phone. “I'm going to order some food and I'll take the opportunity to call Shoko to ask her for the texts for tomorrow.”

Gojo didn't answer him.

With tired eyes and a yawn trapped in his mouth, Gojo saw his best friend leaving the room, making the room plunge into serene silence.

Tired of studying, feeling a strong pain in his back, Gojo fell onto the bed, taking out his cell phone and starting to explore the digital world while waiting for Geto to return.

Gojo was freely lost among images and videos, reading loose sentences without any context, finding a bit of tranquility in the mess of others; Gojo's slender fingers moved across the screen with ease, clicking on images and links, allowing him to sink into a little peace before returning to work.

But no matter how involved he was in the digital world, that didn't stop Gojo from listening.

It was a faint, low sound, like the turning of a page; it was brief, lasting only a second, something too small to be noticed; but Gojo noticed, Gojo realized that something had happened, and when he sat back down on the bed and looked at Geto's desk, he saw it.

A small, white card rested gently on the wooden surface. It was thin, almost invisible from Gojo's point of view, but those dark letters, that black that adorned the card left no room for doubt: Geto had just received his card.

Gojo leaned forward, looking closely at the initials and numbers written on the card.

There was silence.

A dark silence took over Geto's room, leaning into every corner, refusing to leave through the door that Geto had left open. The shadows in the room seemed thicker at that moment, gaining a bit of dimension when seen from the corner of Gojo's eye; it seemed like they were watching him, trying to keep Gojo's actions in their dark corners, silently judging everything Gojo did, everything he thought.

But Gojo continued to look at the card, memorizing the initials and numbers, repeating them in his mind over and over again. Until he heard Geto's voice approaching the room and he let the shadows keep the secret he had just made.

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Geto was at the bus stop patiently waiting. Letting the sun warm him through the bus stop window, Geto faced the road with a smile on his lips.

Seeing students and teachers walking up and down the street, hearing the happy birdsong and feeling the cool breeze of the day on his face, Geto couldn't be happier at that moment. That day, it seemed as if the whole world had gained a new color, a new meaning, as if all the stars that made up the universe had arranged themselves especially to link Geto's path.

He was certain that in that day nothing would destroy his enthusiasm. Not when he held tightly to a small white card and waited patiently for a bus to arrive, for you to arrive.

It had been mere minutes since Geto arrived at the stop to see your bus arriving punctually at your building. Keeping all the enthusiasm he was feeling in a small box inside his heart, Geto approached you when you got off the platform, ready for another day of classes.

“Good morning!”

“Oh, good morning, Geto,” your smile painted constellations, illuminating the entire universe with a simple curve of affection and delicacy. “Were you waiting for me?”

“Eighty-three million, two hundred and twenty thousand, six hundred and seventy-four point one hundred and ninety-three.”

You stopped walking and looked seriously at your classmate. Confused by why those numbers were recited so passionately, you waited for Geto to continue his reasoning. Looking closely at Geto, you couldn't help but let out a small smile; there was something about his childish enthusiasm, his cosmic joy that made you feel at least the slightest bit comfortable.

“It’s your number, isn’t it?”

“And how do you know my number?” your smile had taken on a playful tone, not realizing where that conversation would lead you, or why he was having it with you at that moment. As such, and as always, you just waited.

“Because they gave me that number yesterday.”

Geto handed you the small card he kept in his hand. Curious about his words, you looked at that white piece of paper, seeing your number and initials in dark tones.

Y/N 83220674,193

You remained silent for a moment while you assimilated all that information.

In reality, you hadn't received your card yet, but you didn't care. In so many years of life, you have never had the need to get together with someone, to let the gods guide your destiny with a mere card; but that didn't mean you weren't expecting it. You were never a romantic by nature, avoiding cliché films and closing the books when the couple began to express their eternal love for each other; but that didn't mean you didn't want that magic for yourself.

The reality is that throughout your life you have had to worry about something more than the triviality that was love. From friendships to school, your entire life was made up of obstacles that prevented you from delving into the complex webs of romantic relationships that could have been.

But there it was. A card. Your number. Your initials. There was no denying it – Geto’s soulmate was you.

Still trapped in those complex numbers and the beautiful initials carved into the white of the card, your mind began to wander to a future that could exist, leaving you speechless, completely surrendered to the surprise of the event.

“You seem excited about that idea,” not knowing how to respond, not knowing how to act after that revelation, you tried to focus your attention on Geto, starting to walk into the building with your colleague always by your side.

“Just happy for the confirmation.”

“Confirmation?” You looked at Geto confused and he just smiled before opening the door to the building for you.

“I always knew it was you.”

You gave a small laugh that gently echoed through the interior of the building. “What made you so sure?”

“That’s what I felt.” Geto let a sigh escape him, his lips expanding more and more into the victorious smile he wore. “Since the first day I saw you.”

You looked curiously at Geto as you climbed the stairs to the second floor.

“I can't explain it to you, but from the first day I saw you, I felt something inside me change. It's hard to explain, but it's as if the forces of the universe were pulling me towards you. Many times, without meaning to, I was already looking at you and wondering how I could talk to you.”

Geto's words traveled seamlessly to your ears, collecting all the celestial magic they could grab along the way. Geto's confession appeared wrapped in the stardust of the sky that sheltered you, leaving you to smile shyly at your colleague's frankness.

Would it be true? All the words Geto said seemed too whimsical to be real, his honesty appearing like a small butterfly on warmer days, flapping its wings and simplicity with the lightness of someone who didn't care about what he said.

“Very well,” you said finally, opening the door to the classroom and giving Geto space to enter. “And what do you intend to do with this new information?”

“For starters,” smiled Geto, leaning against one of the desks, the one where you always sat, and putting his hands in his pants pockets, “I’m going to ask you out on a date.”

“What if I say no?”

You sat in your seat, placing your backpack on the table and looking at Geto with amusement.

“I will invite you until you say yes.”

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You wouldn't go as far as to say you were in love, but the truth was you felt something.

You would never think that agreeing to go out with Geto would bring you the avalanche of feelings that you started to feel. There was something about him. Something that moved you, that managed to reach your core and comfort your heart as if it were a blanket. You couldn't explain what it was, you couldn't explain what it was like, you just felt it. And it was something so unique and unusual that it consumed you every time you were with Geto.

Since the day you agreed to go out with him, your whole world seemed to have changed.

“Explain something to me,” Geto stretched as he sat in the chair. Leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand, he stared at you, eyes so bright and passionate that he made you feel important.

“What?”

“What do I need to do so I can be yours?”

You choked on the water. The words that Geto said hadn't crossed your mind, taking you by surprise.

You coughed once, twice, three times, placed the glass of water on the table and looked at Geto, your eyes still shining with the tears that had formed seconds ago.

“What?”

“I just want to know,” his smile was infectious. Whenever Geto looked at you, he smiled, a smile that spread across his face and made him more beautiful, more brilliant, as if that curve of his lips were the only detail about him. “We have already gone on several dates. We already know each other well. What is missing?"

You stared at Geto.

In fact, you felt something every time you were with Geto, your heart growing warmer with each moment shared with him. But that something was indescribable, you couldn't understand the nature of that something. What was it? How had it come about? Why did it torment you so much every time you were with Geto?

Yes. You could ignore it. Just take yourself in the comfort of that feeling, and allow yourself to enjoy a little of the tranquility that that feeling offered you. But there was something about that feeling, there was something that made you feel nervous. Maybe it was because you were happy and it had been years since you last felt so carefree and light; maybe it was because you couldn't explain what you felt, the lack of words and descriptions leaving you delirious. You didn't know exactly what it was. You just knew you weren't ready.

“I'm waiting,” you let out a small smile, looking at the water in the glass and thinking deeply about that something attacking your heart. What was that?

“For a formal request?” Geto let out a small laugh, so beautiful and melodious that it made the authenticity of your smile change tones, the small line becoming more real with that laugh. “I can kneel here right now and ask you to be yours.”

“No,” now it was you who laughed, holding Geto's hands when he made a move to get up. “Don’t you dare!”

“So what do you want? Tell me and I’ll give you anything.”

“My card.”

You whispered your confession a little nervously, letting your voice get lost in the university bar.

Geto looked at you, the smile that beautified him so much gently fading as he thought and repeated your words in his mind. Your card. Your card? Why were you waiting for something you already knew? What did you want to find in your white piece? Why was confirming a number so important to you? Didn't you feel your connection? Didn't you feel how your souls were interconnected for generations and eras, your essence existing on the same star before inhabiting the human bodies that held you back from expressing your true love?

“Why?”

Geto's voice had changed tone. Before playful, sprinkled with passion and affection, it was now serious, monotonous, without any feeling attached to the intonation of the syllables.

“Just…” you continued to stare at the glass of water, too embarrassed by your whim, thinking that your request was a betrayal for Geto. “I just want to be sure.”

Geto looked at you without showing any emotion. His bright eyes were now opaque, focused on your figure, studying your posture; his lips were in a straight line, too tense from the conversation to be able to express a mere smile.

Finally, he took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and putting his hands in his coat pockets.

“If that’s what you want, I’ll wait.”

Geto's words gently lifted your chin, finally looking at him, seeing a small, shy smile on his lips, filled with a small sadness, wrapped in understanding.

“Tell me your number.”

“Sixty-nine point zero, one, six, zero.”

“…six, zero,” Geto’s number was now saved on your cell phone. You were smiling, believing that that exchange of numbers could be the last drop to fill the glass of your doubts – it had to be him, you felt it.

Geto got up from his chair, smiling and offering you his hand.

You put your cell phone away and held Geto's hand, feeling his warm, thin fingers intertwine with yours, gently pulling you out of the bar and taking you through the city's flowery paths to your house.

Saying goodbye with a kiss on your forehead, Geto watched you enter your home, the smile he still wore being painted with love and complete devotion – how he loved you.

You sighed when you entered the house. You were tired. Classes were becoming increasingly demanding and, with the semester almost over, the pressure only increased.

You placed your hands on your shoulders and pressed down hard as you walked to your room. Your back was burning, a fog of anxiety was clouding your mind, your feet were asking for a moment of rest.

You threw yourself onto the bed, leaving your backpack at the bedroom door. You were exhausted, you couldn't even open your eyes. Ready to get some sleep before studying, you took your cell phone out of your pants pocket and placed it on the bedside table next to the white card.

The white card.

As if pinching you with electricity, the card woke you up to reality. You quickly sat down on the bed, holding that piece of paper in your hands. Finally the confirmation, finally the key to your happiness.

S.G.

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You abruptly pulled Gojo into an empty room. After closing the door with some force, you faced your friend who looked at you confused and a little worried.

“What…”

“You should have told me.”

You cut Gojo's words without any difficulty, throwing your card at Gojo, he fumbling to catch the lightness of the paper.

You were upset, completely furious. Your heart pounded with the knowledge of that betrayal, forcing you to look at Gojo with angry eyes and trembling lips.

“What happe…”

“Look at the card,” you didn’t want to shout at Gojo, it wasn’t in your nature to speak loudly to other people, but at that moment, totally consumed by all the emotions that arose in your heart, you couldn’t control your tone of voice, your words coming out louder than intended. “Look at the card and explain to me why you didn’t tell me!”

Gojo's blue eyes looked at you nervously, the glow that embellished them giving them a fear that was completely unknown to him. It took a while. He was still assimilating your words, repeating them in his head, trying to understand what you specifically meant. But, when all the dots connected, when your anger became justifiable and the card essential, Gojo quickly looked at the card, letting out a small curse when he saw the initials and numbers that adorned the white piece of paper.

S.G. 2430.1872

“I can explain…”

“I don't believe it. It is really you! You switched the cards!”

You let out a fake laugh, turning your body to face the door in an attempt to calm down. After taking a deep breath once, twice, three times, you looked back at Gojo, who now had a look of determination that didn't match your conversation.

“He loves you.”

“He’s not my soulmate,” you couldn’t explain, but your eyes started to water. Anger? Despair? Betrayal? What emotion did you seek from the turbulent sea that shook your heart to make you want to cry?

“That doesn’t invalidate the fact that he loves you.”

You shook your head, your lips forming a fake, angry smile, painted with the turmoil that existed in your heart. “You know perfectly well it does.”

“Listen,” Gojo approached you, the card held in one of his hands, his sunglasses almost falling off his head. “You like him. It's noticeable! The way you look at him, the way you shine when you're with him. You…"

“No!” you shouted without realizing it, snatching the card from Gojo's hand and waving it in front of his eyes. “You are my soulmate. It's you I have to stay with. You are the one I have to love.”

“No. No! No!” now Gojo was also shouting, desperate to make himself heard, wanting to explain himself at all costs. “You don’t have to keep yours…”

“You know perfectly well what happens to those who don’t stay with their soulmate.” Sadness. Hurt. Suffering. Grief. Years of pure despair. Years of nothing but anguish. “Do you really want him to be like that? Consumed by the negativity of the universe?”

“How,” Gojo laughed, a little insane with your argument, taking his hands to his head and taking off the glasses that made him feel weird. “How is he going to be unhappy if he has loved you since the first day you met?”

“Feelings come and go,” your tone returned to normal, your gaze now trapping Gojo in a box with no escape, your conversation turning from despair to frustration. “He wouldn’t be happy with me.”

Gojo looked at you furious with your deaf ears. You looked at Gojo irritated by his empty words.

The door opened.

Geto entered.

“I heard screams… Is everything okay?”

Geto's eyes jumped from you to Gojo. He was confused, he didn't understand why you were alone in an empty room screaming. On the other side of the door, Geto hadn't been able to understand the nature of your argument, but now looking at you, he knew it was something serious.

“Tell him.” Your eyes finally got tired, the first tear sliding easily down your face, taking with it a bit of the sadness of reality. “Tell him, Gojo.”

“Tell me what?”

Now Geto started to get nervous. What had happened between the two of you to create such a tense atmosphere? How did the two of you, the ones who were always joking with each other, the ones who knew nothing more than laughter and smiles, how did the two of you end up screaming and crying?

“Tell him how I will never be happy with him because I am destined to love you.”

ㅤㅤ‧₊˚ feedback is appreciated ♡

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foranpo · 2 months

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ㅤㅤ₊˚✧ BEYOND THE SOULS ‧₊˚ ┊synopsis ... sigma's job was to take care of the various souls that inhabited the universe, however, only one soul shone brightly in his hands.

‧₊˚ ┊fandom ... bungou stray dogs. ㅤㅤ‧₊˚ ft. ... sigma x gn!reader. ‧₊˚ ┊au! ... souls, celestial bodies. ‧₊˚ ┊genre ... drabble. ㅤㅤ‧₊˚ content ... angst, hurt/no comfort. ㅤㅤ‧₊˚ word count ... 1.9k.

In the depths of the universe, between the dark corridors of the destinies and the vast nothingness of the celestial bodies, there was a room.

It was a big, wide room, so long that it was impossible to see the end of it once inside –and it wasn't just any room, for, in its darkness, lives shone. Infinite shelves of small lights extended inside the room, exposing several spheres that, within the darkness of the room, intensely illuminated all the nothingness that existed in that room. They were perfect circles, small in size, immense in content, since each sphere contained a small world within itself.

In that small room, among the vast corridors of lives and glowing spheres, there was a caretaker.

He was a fragile, delicate caretaker, so unsure of himself that it was impossible to believe he was so careful –however, he was not just any celestial body, for, under his care, lives happened. Small songs were sung by the caretaker, lulling the various spheres in a melody of understanding and adoration, helping them to shine more and more with each timbre of his voice. They were perfect melodies, small in their composition, immense in their feelings, since each of his songs contained dreams that the caretaker could not live.

Sigma was his name, the eighteenth celestial body to be created in that vast nothingness of the universe, without any voice of his own, without any soul he could call 'his'.

When stars collided in an uncertain space in a time yet to exist, Sigma came into existence –but not completely. Because, in his creation, as if cursed by everything that existed and would come to exist, his soul was stolen even before his consciousness reached his body, depriving him of what he cherished the most: a true essence.

It seemed cruel, something engendered by the most malevolent gods in the universe, but Sigma, the one that wanted so much to be, ended up taking care of those who already were.

Since the beginning of his creation, Sigma saw nothing other than the infinite shelves of the room of souls. Without knowing the time of his existence, or how many moons passed through him, Sigma only knew the intense glow of the various lives that were created and kept within his delicate and tender being.

From the first rotation of his room, Sigma meticulously polished each sphere that was in his charge; singing improvised songs, moved by his desires and dreams, Sigma's voice, together with the soft movements of his hands, embraced all the souls in that room, wrapping them in a veil of comfort and security. Entire moments were spent inside that room, repeating day after day, rotation after rotation, those daily tasks that were already written inside Sigma: polishing the spheres, singing to the spheres, holding the spheres in his hands, caressing the spheres, repeat. It was already something automatic for Sigma, all that practice being installed in him when the first stardust after his creation fell on his hair.

However, there was a break in that routine, a small rupture in his daily tasks that lasted only a few hours, an insignificant time in the broad universe of yesterdays and todays. The thing is, although he tried to hide it from the great gods who saw everything, the reality is that his daily break was known throughout the universe.

For a few short hours, Sigma would hold a soul and, after polishing it, after singing to it, after holding it in his hands, after caressing it, Sigma would sit with it.

It was a specific soul, chosen so long ago, already so old that it was impossible to count the number of lives it had lived –and it wasn't just any soul, for, in Sigma's hands, its life shone more intensely. Infinite lives experienced by that sphere made it Sigma's favorite, captivating him with all its choices and dreams, making him desire a life of his own. It was a perfect soul, ancient in its nature, altruistic in its actions, selfish in its dreams, since every desire of that soul neglected the existence of Sigma.

The floor of that room was cold, dark, simply decorated with the various stars that roamed the universe looking for a place to stop existing. But that didn't stop Sigma from, rotation after rotation, sitting in it and watching that soul, your soul. With his head tilted, leaning over your sphere, Sigma watched you attentively.

“We don’t need to be children to dream.”

Your voice was soft, like a whisper, gently caressing Sigma's ears who, taken by surprise by your words, held you a little tighter close to his chest.

It was your graduation day. You had finally finished university. Another dream came true in a new life you lived. You didn't know, it was totally ignorant to you all your past lives –but Sigma knew. Sigma knew all your lives and choices, always being by your side in all your bad and best moments. He had never abandoned you. From the first time he saw your sphere glowing dimly, afraid to show itself to others, Sigma knew he would cling to that soul without any explanation. And after much care, after much dedication on Sigma's part, your sphere began to shine, conquering kingdoms in one life, reciting poems to hundreds in another, petting a dog in a new one.

Now, there you were. Once again before hundreds. Once again making your words, your soul, heard. And Sigma listened to you. Attentively, devotedly, vulnerably.

“All we need to dream is to believe. As a child we want to be everything, know everything, explore everything. When we grow up we learn that everything is too big a word and we are content with that. What we want to be, what we want to know, what we want to explore. That is our dream. A small goal embellished with the innocence of who we once were.”

But Sigma never was. He always is. How could Sigma think of a goal and embellish it with an innocence that was never his? How could Sigma think of a goal when all he knew was that vast room and the thousands of souls that roamed in glowing spheres?

How could Sigma dream?

Hearing you in your sphere, imagining you dressed in stars and hair styled with galaxies, Sigma pondered your words. You always had that gift. Ever since you were just a faint light in that shining hall, you could always grab Sigma by your voice, by your soul. It was something simple, something that not even he could explain, but, even without him seeing you, even without him observing all your actions, your words were enough to make Sigma question.

Your voice, like rivers of nebula and mountains of constellations, was everything Sigma wanted to know.

Since the stars created you and in all the lives explored by your soul, your voice enticed Sigma to stop for moments. What was once a job, a routine, had now taken on proportions that Sigma could not contain –it was like an addiction, a habit that he insisted on performing rotation after rotation.

You.

Your voice.

Your ideas.

Your soul.

It was everything Sigma could dream of in that vast room.

“Today we were able to take another step towards this dream. Today, as we say goodbye to this university, we are preparing a hello that will last our entire lives.”

What was a life? How long was a life? Twenty years? Forty? Hundred? How could Sigma, a celestial body without age or essence, define a life? For him, no life existed, everything that described him was a room and infinite spheres that occupied him for indefinite times –none of that was a life, at least, it was not a life worth living. Although he could not define a life, by observing you for eternities, Sigma learned that a life was only real when it was lived with an essence.

Trapped in a place where time did not exist, Sigma was unable to live.

Holding your life in his fragile hands, for decades and centuries, Sigma only thought about how the beauty of a life praised you in each existence; since you were just a speck of light in the midst of that luminous sea that decorated the room of existence, your soul grew with errors committed and dreams fulfilled, earning Sigma's affection, and the shine of that room –perhaps it was because of extra care that Sigma had for you, or simply because you were one of the oldest souls in that room, but the truth is that your light, your life, your essence, were enough to illuminate an entire galaxy.

And this made Sigma question –and no celestial being could ever enjoy this human characteristic.

“I hope this achievement doesn’t stop you from continuing to dream. A life is not complete without a goal, a dream. We can live every day just existing, but it takes courage to live and dream every day. Don't forget that only you have the power to continue living. Never stop dreaming.”

The applause at the end of your speech filled the room of lives.

The intense light from your sphere illuminated Sigma's face in blue tones as he stopped, pondered, questioned.

Did he have any dreams? No. It was impossible.

Sigma was created to care for souls and that's all. His entire existence was his work. No dream could corrupt his work.

“I feel so happy!”

Your voice caught Sigma off guard.

Bringing your sphere to his face, letting his eyes shine with the intensity of your light, Sigma listened. Maybe looking for answers to his questions in your words, maybe wanting to find some comfort in your wisdom –Sigma just listened.

“I feel like my life is just starting now. I couldn’t be happier!”

A single pause.

A single thought.

A single feeling.

Your life would begin now; now that you have reached a new stage, now that you have proven to yourself that you were capable of moving worlds, your life would begin. For years, you were just existing –just like Sigma; but now, now that you have achieved a dream you would start living.

Only now.

Not two years ago, not ten years ago, not when you were born.

But now, on that day, in that moment.

So, if you, someone who has lived more lives than there are stars in the universe, someone who has existed longer than created constellations, would just start living at that moment, perhaps, in the slimmest possibility, Sigma's life had not yet begun.

Maybe that's why he can't dream. Maybe that's why he repeats day after day, rotation after rotation, that futile routine without being able to think about anything else. Maybe his life hasn't started yet; maybe that's why he didn't exist yet.

Yes.

Sigma was sure that was it.

For the first time since he was created, Sigma smiled.

As he rose from the ground and gently placed your soul in its resting place, Sigma caressed your sphere once again, a smile steeped in sadness that he deeply felt beautifying his face.

Before returning to his work, Sigma looked at your sphere one last time.

Sigma's life had yet to begin, this was the reality he believed within himself, with traces of doubts embellishing his thoughts –but it was something he believed.

It was a possibility.

A fantasy.

A dream created by you.

ㅤㅤ‧₊˚ feedback is appreciated ♡

#new acc weeeh <3 #proud of this work ngl :3

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foranpo · 3 months

Text

moved acc -> @krushedstars

i'm not particularly happy w the blog/my works rn so i decided to move blogs. i won't delete this acc but i won't post here anymore. if you wanna see more content from me, give me a follow :3

#;starlight;#eventually will finish us the happiless #lately i havent felt connected to the work so gonna leave it on stand by

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foranpo · 3 months

Text

CASE FILE #06 ㅤTHE TRUE ESSENCE OF SOMEONE.

ㅤ ˖°.archieve.ㅤ ˖°.case file #05.ㅤ ˖°.case file #07. ‧₊˚.CONTENT ㅤㅤ ˖°.clients: ranpo edogawa, gn!reader. ㅤㅤ ˖°.wc: 1.033.

ੈ♡˳────── enjoy the reading ♡ ──────

Nobody had prepared you for the end.

ㅤYou knew your grandmother was about to leave you, rising into the sky like a new star that would shine for you; you knew there would be a day where you would hug her for the last time, hold her hand for the last time, love her for the last time; you were perfectly aware of all of this –but that didn't stop the tears from streaming down your face when she couldn't get up that morning.

ㅤWhen you went to wake up your grandmother and came across what was once her body, now succumbing to time and destiny, completely destroyed by years lived and ruined dreams, you fought not to cry. You couldn't cry –at least, not in front of your grandmother.

ㅤWith care and patience, you gave breakfast to her, promising that you would come back for lunch to keep her company while you both ate, trying your best to hide the pain that was gnawing at your heart at seeing your grandmother so fragile, so weak, so defenseless.

ㅤIt was only a week. It had only been a week since Ranpo and Yosano's arrival. A single week –that was enough time. For seven long days, you watched your grandmother wasting away in front of you; for seven long days, you witnessed the drastic change in your grandmother's health; for seven long days, you believed that Ranpo and Yosano were enough to calm your grandmother's turbulent heart –but seven days, is a lifetime.

ㅤ“How is she?”

ㅤRanpo sat on the porch next to you, admiring the sick landscape that stretched beyond your house.

ㅤ“It seems like every day that passes, it gets worse. Even when we think there is nothing worse, she…”

ㅤYou sighed and let your head fall back, looking painfully at the gray sky of that cold morning. You felt the wind freezing your face, covering your skin with the pain of an eternal winter that would consume you for the remaining days.

ㅤ“Is she suffering?”

ㅤYou looked at Ranpo; the agent was looking at you carefully, his beautiful eyes fixed on your person waiting for a reaction, a response, a confirmation.

ㅤ“I think she is at peace. With you here, I feel like she’s okay.”

ㅤ“Isn’t that all that matters? Help your grandmother embrace her inner calm so she can leave without any remorse?”

ㅤLeave…

ㅤYes, you knew that was a possibility, an inevitability even, but even so, hearing that word being uttered so automatically by Ranpo, without any emotion or attachment, made you nervous, restless, as if it were something wrong.

ㅤ“I don’t want to…” your eyes began to burn involuntarily, a need to expel all the feelings that corrupted you emerging with Ranpo’s robotic words. “I don’t want to lose her.”

ㅤ“It’s the law of nature.” Always cold. Always impartial. Always inhumane. Did Ranpo have any feelings? Was there something in Ranpo that made him human beyond his body and consciousness? Was he capable of feeling? "We born to die. There is no glory in our lives. Just memories that we hope will be carried by others.”

ㅤ“What if these memories fade?” The first tear fell and you hid a sob. “What if there is no one to take the memories? Have we lived in vain?”

ㅤ“We always live in vain,” Ranpo looked back at the landscape, seeing the bare branches of the trees swaying to the wintry melody of the day. “There is no honor or explanation for our lives.”

ㅤ“Then why do we try? Why are we looking for something? Always something more?”

ㅤ“Because none of us want to accept the fact that we are so insignificant that not even the gods themselves bothered to give us a reason to live.”

ㅤThe second tear fell, your sobs finding a way out of you.

ㅤListening to Ranpo was moving you, the cruel truth of our essence hitting you in the chest like a knife. You already knew all this, you had already repeated these same words to yourself; but there was something about hearing Ranpo's monotonous voice, the way he so nonchalantly explained the obvious to you –you just couldn't take it anymore.

ㅤYears of strong emotions were drawn by the cold wind of the day, leaving you calmly, giving you time to reject the tears that flowed without any haste down your face; but you didn't move, you didn't make any movement. For the first time, and without understanding why, you allowed your feelings to be heard by you; with each tear that ran down your body, with each sob that squeezed your throat, everything seemed less real.

ㅤRanpo looked at you as your sobs became more audible.

ㅤSeeing you distressed, suffocating in your own feelings, Ranpo became static. What was the protocol to follow? What did the rules dictate for situations like these? What could Ranpo do to relieve you of the suffering that consumed you?

ㅤHe couldn't do anything.

ㅤThe rules dictated it.

ㅤNothing.

ㅤJust face you.

ㅤJust seeing you succumb to the negativity that colored your essence.

ㅤSimply nothing.

ㅤNothing more than nothing.

ㅤNothing.

ㅤNothing…

ㅤ“There is no eternity for us.” Ranpo continued his speech, lowering his gaze, focusing on the small wooden space that separated you. “All we can hope is that we are not wasting our time on earth.”

ㅤ“And how do we know that?”

ㅤYou looked at Ranpo, eyes red with shame and sadness, lips wet from the tears you couldn't control, heart beating harder and harder.

ㅤ“We don’t know… We will never know.”

ㅤAnd, almost immediately, all reality stabilized at that moment.

ㅤFollowing Ranpo's words, the agent extended his arm, wrapping you in an awkward embrace, pulling you towards him. You hid your face in Ranpo's chest as if by instinct, dyeing the agent's brown coat with your pain and nervousness. Ranpo, in turn, stared into space, reviewing all the rules and protocols that existed in his agency, his hand gently squeezing your arm.

ㅤHe could do something.

ㅤThe rules could be changed.

ㅤSomething.

ㅤJust a hug.

ㅤJust a hug to appease your essence.

ㅤSimply a hug.

ㅤNothing more than a hug.

ㅤJust a hug.

ㅤA hug.

ㅤA hug…

ੈ♡˳───── feedback is appreciated ♡ ─────

#;us the happiless;#ranpo x reader #ranpo x you #ranpo x yn #ranpo x y/n #ranpo angst #ranpo fluff #ranpo imagines #ranpo drabbles #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader

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foranpo · 3 months

Text

CASE FILE #05 ㅤVOICES OF THOSE WHO LISTEN.

ㅤ ˖°.archieve.ㅤ ˖°.case file #04.ㅤ ˖°.case file #06. ‧₊˚.CONTENT ㅤㅤ ˖°.clients: ranpo edogawa, gn!reader. ㅤㅤ ˖°.wc: 1.440.

ੈ♡˳────── enjoy the reading ♡ ──────

“You may be very smart, but you are, without a doubt, the dumbest person I know!”

ㅤIn the room that was intended for your brother, Yosano was arguing with Ranpo.

ㅤThe house was already asleep; rocked by the storm outside the house, you and your grandmother were now sleeping, resting after a day filled with smiles and good memories, the farce you had helped create giving you nothing more than peaceful dreams and a beautiful night's sleep.

ㅤHowever, in your brother's room, none of the agents slept. Yosano tired the floor, pacing from side to side, trying to relieve some of her anger in the firm steps that filled the room. Ranpo, in turn, was sitting on the bed, watching his companion, patiently listening to all the anger she needed to expel.

ㅤ“The deal was just dinner, not sleeping here.”

ㅤ“But they need us, at least one more day.”

ㅤ“That wasn’t the mission!”

ㅤ“You know that missions change depending on the needs.”

ㅤ“And what was the need this time?”

ㅤRanpo reproached his colleague with a look.

ㅤIt's true that Ranpo was Happin-us' best agent, everyone knew it; what no one knew was that he was known for constantly changing his missions.

ㅤAlways wanting to be the best, knowing perfectly well that he could do better, Ranpo constantly changed missions, the last one staining the young agent's heart a little –because, no matter how many good deeds he wanted to do, no one is prepared for the wrath of nature.

ㅤThe loss of his client still weighed on Ranpo and perhaps that was why, on that cold night, he decided to extend his stay at your house.

ㅤ“The real client is not the grandmother. It’s them."

ㅤ“Them?”

ㅤ“Y/N.”

ㅤYosano stopped walking and looked at her colleague, doubt appearing on her face, slightly lit by the candles in the room. What did Ranpo mean by that? What arguments would he have to support his theory? No. Even if that was true, that wasn't their mission. On the paper was your grandmother's name, not yours.

ㅤ“Not oficially.”

ㅤRanpo patted the bed as he looked away from Yosano, letting the heavy rain fill the silence that fell between the two of them. He waited a while, stroking the bed sheets, watching the shadows play on the surface of the bed. And finally, he said:

ㅤ“The grandmother is about to pass away. They will need us.”

ㅤ“That’s something they have to decide. It’s not up to us to choose who needs help.”

ㅤ“Everyone needs help, Yosano,” Ranpo looked at his colleague, an intriguing gleam in his eyes. “This mission is up to us.”

ㅤ“Ranpo…”

ㅤYosano sighed loudly and sat down next to Ranpo, moving her hands nervously, looking for some strength in her fingers to calm herself down.

ㅤ“We can’t help everyone.”

ㅤ“But if we have the possibility of helping one more person, why can’t we do it?”

ㅤ“It’s against the rules…”

ㅤ“The rules help us show the way. But we are the ones who decide whether we should go through it.”

ㅤA new silence, a small howl of the wind, an endless wait.

ㅤYosano sighed again, tired of the day, the lie, the conversation. And, with her sigh, one of the candles went out, lowering the light in the room, leaving Yosano and Ranpo at the mercy of inevitable darkness.

ㅤ“How long do you plan to stay?”

ㅤThey both looked out the window, seeing trees dancing, hearing the rain falling, doing everything they could to take their minds off that old and nostalgic place.

ㅤRanpo waited a little, searching within himself for the answer to the question, trying to decipher in his soul all the answers that were hanging inside him. Still unsure of his answer, a little hesitant in his words, Ranpo responded to Yosano, making her sigh again as the small statement left his lips, tingeing the room with uncertainty and uneasiness.

ㅤ“The time needed to see them happy again.”

ੈ♡˳─────────────────────

A new day has emerged with hope growing in you.

ㅤFor the first time in a long time, you had slept peacefully, knowing that on the other side of the corridor was someone capable of making your worries disappear for a brief moment. Throughout the night, no noise from outside took away your sleep, your dreams being bathed by stardust that lulled you to warm lands and tender moments.

ㅤAnd now, as you prepared breakfast for everyone, you strongly believed that that day, those days that would follow, would be full of colors and memories that you had longed for.

ㅤ“Good morning,” Ranpo let his greeting slip through his yawn, his eyes watering a little from the exhaustion of a night of discussion and theories.

ㅤ“Good morning!”

ㅤYou had just placed the food on the table, sitting in your seat, waiting for the rest of the members of that house to arrive.

ㅤYou looked at Ranpo excitedly, clearly excited to see that agent, the satisfaction and pleasure of seeing him being noticed in your wide and true smile. And, when Ranpo finally opened his eyes and saw you so excited, so happy, he was ecstatic.

ㅤ“Did you sleep well?”

ㅤYou started to serve the food to yourself, your attention now focusing on old jams and pieces of bread left over from the day before. Ranpo dragged a chair and sat across from you, looking at the table, finding the courage to start eating.

ㅤ“Not really. The sounds were too loud.”

ㅤThe wind, the rain –that's what you thought. What you didn't know was that Ranpo was talking about Yosano's voice, his colleague's doubts, his own restlessness. A whole mix of internal sounds combined with the storm outside, culminating in a sleepless night with the company of his own thoughts –a true nightmare.

ㅤ“I hope you can sleep better today,” you smiled before taking a bite of the bread, chewing with pleasure, admiring the sweetness of the jam for the first time in a long time. “If you want, you can change rooms with me. Mine has better insulation.”

ㅤ“No need, thank you.”

ㅤAlways so polite, always so automatic –always so unhappy.

ㅤWhat pleasure could Ranpo derive from his life when everything he said, everything he did, was cursed by his fate as an agent of Happin-us? Every moment he experienced, every little moment he lived was controlled by his agent identity; there was no pleasure in Ranpo's life, only duty. There was no room for happiness, only obligation. Everything in Ranpo's life was limited to being an agent, without emotions, without aspirations, without anything other than eternal devotion to his cause –after all, there was no greater pleasure in life than returning smiles to those who had forgotten to be happy.

ㅤTherefore, at that moment, before a composed, although poor, table, before a company that knew the true human world, Ranpo's entire mind was covered in a thick fog that obscured his thoughts.

ㅤ“Thanks for the food.”

ㅤYou smiled between bites, your aura taking on a new color at that moment.

ㅤAlthough it was Ranpo who wore the yellow badge, the true meaning of that color, the true comfort and magic, came from you. Your smile was full of color, joy emanating from you through a simple curved line; your eyes were shining, not from tears that refused to fall, but from pure happiness; joy and satisfaction painted your face, lighting up your skin, offering you new hope.

ㅤ“How long will you stay here?”

ㅤWhen the silence was too much and enough time had passed for Ranpo to actually wake up, you decided to break the ice once again, looking for an answer to that question that made you so curious.

ㅤ“Until we feel the mission is complete,” Ranpo shrugged and decided to eat a cookie. “We don’t know for sure when that will be.”

ㅤ“But my grandmother is happy. She now believes my brother is just a car ride away. She’s fine again.”

ㅤ“We’re not just here for your grandmother.”

ㅤYosano entered the kitchen and greeted you with a smile, abruptly ending that conversation. But you didn't need to hear any more. That little statement from Ranpo was enough to make you understand the real reason he stayed at your house.

ㅤYou swallowed the piece of bread that danced in your mouth and, looking at Ranpo without any expression, you waited for Yosano to sit next to the other agent, your mind stuck at that exact moment.

ㅤAfter all, no matter how much you denied it for years, it was you; the one who made the agents stay in that house, the one who really needed help and salvation, was you.

ੈ♡˳───── feedback is appreciated ♡ ─────

#;us the happiless;#ranpo x reader #ranpo x yn #ranpo x you #ranpo x y/n #ranpo angst #ranpo fluff #ranpo imagines #ranpo drabble #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader

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foranpo · 5 months

Text

CASE FILE #04 ㅤGHOSTS OF WHO WE WERE.

ㅤ ˖°.archieve.ㅤ ˖°.case file #03.ㅤ ˖°.case file #05. ‧₊˚.CONTENT ㅤㅤ ˖°.clients: ranpo edogawa, gn!reader. ㅤㅤ ˖°.wc: 1.885.

ੈ♡˳────── enjoy the reading ♡ ──────

For the first time since you can remember, you were nervous.

ㅤOutside your grandmother's room, you kept your attention on the rusty doorknob while your mind wandered through valleys of memories that you would always keep close to your chest.

ㅤYou took a deep breath and, in a last effort to make your grandmother really happy, you tried to muster up some of the courage you saved for special occasions. With your hand on the doorknob, and memories of easier days, you opened the door to your grandmother's room.

ㅤThe room was dark. Not because you had closed windows or burned out light bulbs, but because outside, in the world that forgave no one, the storm was getting closer and closer to your home.

ㅤYour grandmother was sitting in front of the large window, protected with a thin blanket, admiring the thick clouds that cried intensely for the departure of the one you loved most.

ㅤ“Granny, they’re here.”

ㅤYour lie slid smoothly across the room, settling into your grandmother's lap, reveling in the softness of the blanket, not wanting to be discovered. You spoke quietly, a little annoyed, the lie burning your throat with each syllable pronounced, the anguish of deceiving your grandmother being felt in the low, hesitant timbre with which you announced that falsehood.

ㅤYour grandmother gently moved her head to look at you, a nostalgic smile stuck to her lips, endless stories trapped in her bright, tired eyes.

ㅤInvoluntarily, you smiled back, your eyes gaining a little hope when you saw your grandmother's smile expanding as she processed your statement –maybe that idea of yours would work.

ㅤ“So punctual,” your grandmother stood up from her chair with regret, her elderly body protesting every movement she made, the pain of years lived being felt in her slow movements. “They are always so considerate of my schedule.”

ㅤYou smiled when your grandmother, very slowly, crawled to your side. With your hands on her arms to help her walk, the two of you left the dark room calmly and serenely, as if the whole world was waiting for you.

ㅤWith every step you took, anxiety grew within you.

ㅤThat first contact would be crucial to the outcome of the mission. One small mistake and all your grandmother's happiness would be corrupted by the cruel reality that had embraced you for so many years. Everything had to be perfect. Everything had to be calculated. Everything had to look real.

ㅤWith slow and silent steps, you and your grandmother finally arrived at the room, where the two Happin-us agents were patiently waiting for you.

ㅤ“Grand-nana of my heart!”

ㅤAffectionate name that only your brother called your grandmother: check.

ㅤJumping like your brother did whenever he saw your grandmother: check.

ㅤA tight but quick hug that only your brother knew how to use: check.

ㅤ“My dear, I missed you so much.”

ㅤYour grandmother brought her shaky, rough hand to Ranpo's face, gently caressing his soft skin, looking into the agent's eyes, smiling like you had never seen her smile.

ㅤRanpo being the perfect replacement for your brother: check.

ㅤYou moved away a little and carefully observed that tender scene that you swore that you would never see again: your grandmother held back tears of happiness at seeing her grandson once again, the way she caressed Ranpo leaving you satisfied with your plan.

ㅤYou held back the tears, admiring and keeping that meeting in your heart, since it could be the last one your grandmother experienced.

Maybe, but just maybe, your grandmother would be happy again.

ੈ♡˳─────────────────────

The night has always been your companion.

ㅤSitting on the porch of your house, admiring the mist that covered the entire horizon, wondering what the stars looked like, those little things that gave so many pleasures to the various ancestors of the new world. There was no sound, the storm was already quite far from the house, no cars or trains appeared around the land.

ㅤIt was pure tranquility and serenity wherever you looked, a moment of peace that you so needed after so many months of pure chaos in your mind.

ㅤ“Yosano was kidnapped by your grandmother,” Ranpo’s amused voice interrupted your serenity, making you jump a little in surprise, quickly wiping your eyes –you couldn’t show your most vulnerable side. “I think they’re talking about your childhood.”

ㅤ“Hm.”

ㅤYou forced a smile and continued to stare into the void of tranquility, fighting your thoughts, preventing memories of your childhood from invading your mind without any consent.

ㅤRanpo sat next to you, nibbling on a candy your grandmother gave him, savoring the success of another mission without any reprisals –he was truly Happin-us' best agent.

ㅤSilence followed. Mixing with the night breeze, a vast wave of silence followed your small murmur, settling between you and Ranpo, wrapping you in the certainty that that night would be your confidant.

ㅤ“Thank you.”

ㅤEscaping through your lips for fear of being heard, your thanks were light and low, almost carried by the strong breeze of the night, but arriving safe and sound in Ranpo's ears who, as soon as he processed your tender word, looked at you with the smile he always wore at the end of every mission –once again, Ranpo emerged victorious with another achievement added to his book.

ㅤ“It’s always good to be able to help.”

ㅤAn automatic response to a long-heard request.

ㅤHaving been in the smile return business for so long, Ranpo was already used to all types of reactions, whether positive or negative. He had always known how to deal with all types of dialogue, his responses had no basis of sincerity or emotion –it was all so automatic for a Happin-us agent.

ㅤ“I can’t remember the last time I saw my grandmother this happy.”

ㅤYou let out a dry laugh that stuck in the cold night, remaining between you and Ranpo, making the agent see that that happiness, in reality, had a background of sadness and loneliness. “Your presence brought her new life.”

ㅤ“It wasn’t because of us, it was because of you.”

ㅤA small light in the distance, a car passing by, hope growing within you.

ㅤ“I did nothing. I just asked for help.”

ㅤ“And isn’t that the first step to happiness?”

ㅤA new light, a new car, the growth of hope.

ㅤ“Words alone are not enough to change lives.”

ㅤ“You’d be surprised how many lives I’ve changed with just words.”

ㅤ“It must be a lonely job…”

ㅤRanpo looked at you seriously, pondering your words, wondering, for the first time, if your statement had any truth to it.

ㅤThe reality is that Ranpo didn't think much outside of his work environment, and even there, everything he thought about revolved around other people's lives and how he could make them better –that was the mentality of a Happin-us’ agent.

ㅤAs such, your words came poisoned, planting a seed of confusion and unrest in Ranpo, growing with each passing second.

ㅤWas it really a lonely job?

ㅤ“It’s a job like any other. It has its advantages and disadvantages.”

ㅤSilence settled once again between you, bringing with it the light of the night, the fog that covered all the houses and plantations finally lifting. Before you a vast landscape of antiquity and ruin stretched into the night, embellished by the thick clouds that threatened to collapse at any moment.

ㅤAt that moment, you were at peace.

ㅤMaybe it was because of the little bright yellow stuck in Ranpo's coat, or because of the nostalgia of empty houses that you could see on that dark night, but the reality is that at that moment, surrounded by melancholy wrapped in a blanket of serenity, you felt at peace.

ㅤ“Can I ask you a question?”

ㅤRanpo looked at you curiously, your grandmother's laughter echoing inside the house, a ghost of a smile quickly appearing on your lips. “And do you promise to be honest?”

ㅤAnother laugh and your smile disappeared, knowing that such a sound would never be heard from her again.

ㅤ“Will I ever… Will I ever see my brother again?”

ㅤ“No.”

ㅤWithout any hesitation, Ranpo responded to you without fear or ceremony, instilling in you the beginning of a long life of longing and melancholy. There was no way to escape reality and, even though you tried to hide your feelings, that confirmation, that ‘no’, was enough for your whole world to finally turn gray.

ㅤ“He was all I had…” a new smile appeared on you, masked with the pain of losing the one you loved, stained with the knowledge that nothing in your life would ever be the same again. “He and my grandmother.”

ㅤRanpo listened to you curiously, trying to unravel the feelings behind your words, wondering if he could decipher what was in your soul. Sadness about not seeing your brother? Anger at having your brother taken from you so abruptly? Missing a life you would never have again? What mysteries did your words hide?

ㅤ“And very soon I will be alone.”

ㅤIt was impossible to keep a smile in distressing situations like that. Your whole life had been you and your brother and now, like blowing on a dandelion, your entire reality, your entire essence would be stolen from you.

ㅤThe loss of your brother was difficult to deal with, especially because it was so abrupt, so sudden. One morning you were having lunch with your family, happy to have someone, happy to be loved, the next morning you were crying, hiding in your room, never showing your grandmother the reality you lived in: pure melancholy, anguish about what you had, missing what you were.

ㅤYou couldn't contain the tears that formed in your eyes and, very quickly, all the memories of your past took shape in them, drawing paths on your face followed by excruciating memories, forming a lump in your throat that prevented you from breathing.

ㅤEverything was finally falling on top of you. All of your lonely past, all of your true emotions rising with the knowledge that, very soon, you would be alone.

ㅤ“But you still have your grandmother.”

��Ranpo's voice sounded like an extension of his badge. Vibrant like the yellow he wore proudly, warm like the smile on his small surface, Ranpo's words appeared like the sun that was so missing in that world.

ㅤIt was something light, something new, a delicacy that you had longed for –could this be the stars that the ancients spoke of?

ㅤ“Not for long. Before you arrived, I had already lost her. When you leave, I will lose her again, until… until I lose her completely.”

ㅤAnd at that moment, under the dark sky, faced with a landscape of grief and melancholy, Ranpo made his first mistake in his successful career.

ㅤBy turning his body to face you, by speaking without thinking, Ranpo's first mistake came cautiously, gracefully, embellishing his lips, very innocently, without any intention behind his words –and to this day, Ranpo couldn't explain what led him to make such a mistake on his resume.

ㅤBut the reality is that, when he spoke, at that moment, there was no regret because, in uttering his words, in staining his resume, all the color that existed in Happin-us blessed his actions –and all it took was a simple:

ㅤ“Can we stay here for the night?”

ੈ♡˳───── feedback is appreciated ♡ ─────

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foranpo · 5 months

Text

CASE FILE #03 ㅤ ALL THE CORRUPT REALITIES.

ㅤ ˖°.archieve.ㅤ ˖°.case file #02.ㅤ ˖°.case file #04. ‧₊˚.CONTENT ㅤㅤ ˖°.clients: ranpo edogawa, gn!reader. ㅤㅤ ˖°.wc: 1.264.

ੈ♡˳────── enjoy the reading ♡ ──────

Keeping her eyes on the road, Yosano drove carefully.

ㅤTrying to find her way through the several thick drops that fell from the sky, Yosano seemed too attentive to her driving to be interested in matters outside that road. As such, it was with surprise that her voice, disguised by the rain with a false melancholy, was heard amid the crying of the thick clouds.

ㅤ“You know I trust you, don’t you?”

ㅤRanpo opened a curious eye at that statement.

ㅤStill lying on his seat, waiting to arrive at your grandmother's house, Ranpo pretended to sleep the entire trip precisely to avoid that conversation.

ㅤKnowing Yosano for as many years as he worked for Happin-us, every action and speech of his colleague was predictable; as such, Ranpo knew perfectly well that this conversation would come up sooner or later, but that didn't make him wish, and avoid, that it would be later.

ㅤ“Hm.”

ㅤCar trips always left him feeling ill. Couldn't she wait a few more hours?

ㅤ“So I have to call you out when you do something stupid,” a pause, followed by a new monosyllable from Ranpo. “And this, Ranpo, is the stupidest thing you've ever done.”

ㅤRanpo gave a small smile and closed his eyes again, waiting for his arrival at your grandmother's house.

ㅤThe world had become grayer since the beginning of the new era. The sun rarely shone, with thick clouds always covering the entire sky, spreading the darkness that existed within people to the beautiful nature that surrounded them.

ㅤThere was no color in that new world, other than the garish letters on the Happin-us building, and the badges of its agents, no other color shone in the world. Without any joy on the outside, contaminating a person's insides, that new world was endowed with an ominous melancholy.

ㅤIt seemed like it was impossible to be happy in that new world.

ㅤ“We’re here.”

ㅤYosano parked the car easily, turning off the engine and looking at Ranpo who, very reluctantly, straightened up in his seat and stretched.

ㅤ“Just dinner, Ranpo.”

ㅤYosano's reminiscence of that mission sounded like a threat. Working with Ranpo on so many projects, knowing him since he was a teenager, Yosano was able to predict his partner's every move. And, trying to anticipate Ranpo's soft heart, Yosano thought it best to let that reminder hang in the air with the coldness that was characteristic of Happin-us agents.

ㅤRanpo and Yosano got out of the car when you appeared at the door of the house with a large, black umbrella.

ㅤ“Good afternoon,” your voice was muffled by the thick spots that fell aggressively onto your umbrella, your smile looking almost as bright as the badge Ranpo wore on his brown coat. “Did you have a nice trip?”

ㅤ“Sorry for the delay, but the road…”

ㅤYosano let the purpose of that response be imagined by you, her steps hurried to escape the rain, while Ranpo took his time looking everywhere, mentally memorizing the facade of your grandmother's house.

ㅤ“Yosano Akiko,” she held out her hand and you shook it lightly. “Nice to meet you.”

ㅤ“Thank you for taking the job.”

ㅤYou opened the door to your house and signaled Yosano to enter, while you closed your umbrella.

ㅤYou looked at Ranpo intrigued. Almost ignoring the heavy rain, Ranpo took his time, looking at your grandmother's garden, admiring the facade of her old house, decorating every path and stone inside.

ㅤ“Everything’s alright?”

ㅤ“Your grandmother has a beautiful house.”

ㅤWas all Ranpo said before entering the house, taking off his soaked coat.

ੈ♡˳─────────────────────

“My grandmother is sleeping, she should wake up for dinner.”

ㅤYou served tea with care and grace.

ㅤThe fireplace in the living room was lit, providing a comfort that had long been forgotten by the elderly. The rain outside continued to fall heavily, hitting the wall aggressively, lulling your conversation with a warmth that could be taken from the pages of the oldest books.

ㅤ“What’s your grandmother like?”

ㅤYosano's question was carried with the lightness of a snowflake, hovering gently in the air before falling on your face, giving you a wide and proud smile.

ㅤ“She was a very active woman before.”

ㅤYou sat down in front of the agents and carefully held your cup of tea.

ㅤ“She always tried to help her neighbors with everything. She played a lot with the neighborhood children. She was a pure soul.”

ㅤ“She seems like an amazing person.”

ㅤYosano followed your smile before sipping tea, the memories of a different grandmother making you nostalgic as you remembered what was once the norm for her.

ㅤ“I think she's gotten worse since my brother was taken. Since that day, she has been more… more forgotten, sadder… She seems like a different person.”

ㅤ“Do you think she’s trying to erase the memory of that moment?”

ㅤFor the first time since he entered your house, Ranpo spoke. His question was bitter. As if stabbing each syllable into your heart, Ranpo's question was aggressive, even if pronounced with delicate gentleness.

ㅤYou looked at the agent and waited for your courage to catch on to a word. You knew that Ranpo's question was the reality of the situation –your grandmother had never been the same since that day. It was a fact. There were no arguments against it. But, if you said it, if you agreed with that statement, wouldn't you be bringing to yourself a dark reality? A reality that could not be fixed?

ㅤ“I think…” you cleared your voice, composed yourself on the small sofa, looked at your cup of tea. “I think so.”

ㅤThere it was. The bitterness of the reality that surrounded you.

ㅤ“I think she is trying to ignore reality. It's almost as if she…”

ㅤ“She was corrupting reality.”

ㅤRanpo finished your thought, giving you a small calm from the aggressiveness of that truth.

ㅤThere was a small moment of silence.

ㅤThe rain had stopped for a moment, settling that room of yours in the tension of Ranpo's words, the crackling of the fireplace doing little to satisfy the warmth that was stolen by the agent.

ㅤYosano drank her tea looking around, trying to find an opening in the memories of your room to end all that embarrassment; among photographs and paintings, small hanging fabrics and books on display, the agent desperately searched for a souvenir of comfort, for something that satisfied your human nature.

ㅤRanpo, in turn, studied you. With his eyes fixed on you, attentively observing your every movement, Ranpo retained your every action, searching in your involuntary expressions for some answer to a question that was invisible to him –wouldn't you be the real client of that mission?

ㅤ“She suffered a lot after the death of my parents.”

ㅤYou finally spoke, Yosano looking at you in amazement, the rain crying at the statement that came out of your mouth like a whisper.

ㅤ“Since then, her life has been just me and my brother. We were still children. We weren’t even ten,” a fake laugh, a sip of tea. “She always wanted to see us happy. Perhaps…”

ㅤA pause, an eagerness.

ㅤ“Perhaps she’s just trying to spare me the heartbreak of losing my brother.”

ㅤYour eyes began to shine with the pain of reality, the need to talk to someone, to spill your entire story, consuming your every word.

ㅤ“Maybe by pretending nothing happened, she thinks she’s helping me.” Ranpo watched you carefully, allowing the return of the rain to wash away your anguish, asking himself the same question over and over again: weren't you the real client of that mission?

ੈ♡˳───── feedback is appreciated ♡ ─────

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foranpo · 6 months

Text

CASE FILE #02 ㅤ TIMELESS ACHIEVEMENTS.

ㅤ ˖°.archieve.ㅤ ˖°.case file #01.ㅤ ˖°.case file #03. ‧₊˚.CONTENT ㅤㅤ ˖°.clients: ranpo edogawa, gn!reader. ㅤㅤ ˖°.wc: 2.429.

ੈ♡˳────── enjoy the reading ♡ ──────

“What do you know about the client?”

ㅤRanpo's question settled into the hot coffees that landed awkwardly on the office desk. Stacks of papers covered the entire surface of the table while Fukuzawa, so attentive and carefree, divided his tasks into two piles.

ㅤ“They suffered too much since they were little,” a shrug, a new dossier for the pile of reports awaiting review. “I don’t even know how they didn’t contact us sooner.”

ㅤ“And even now,” Ranpo stretched a little as he leaned back in his chair and looked at the building's clean ceiling, “it's not for them. It’s for their grandma.”

ㅤThere was a wave of silence that was only broken by the turning of papers as they waited for you.

ㅤYou were late, as always. Not that you did it on purpose, since it was always difficult to travel in a world that was on the verge of collapse, especially when you lived in an area isolated from all the misery; but the reality is that you were late.

ㅤTo tell the truth, when you received a letter with a smile in the address, your whole world was suspended –you never expected a response, you were never entitled to answers in any field of inquiry; so, when you received not only a letter, but also a request for a meeting, everything was suspended for you. You were finally going to be heard.

ㅤFor your entire life you wanted to be heard: by your parents, by your friends, by anyone and everyone who wanted to listen to you, but you were always ignored. No one paid attention to words in that world, much less when they were spoken by someone who had always been tainted by darkness.

ㅤAfter all, in that new world, negativity was contagious for all those who had the freedom to feel.

ㅤSo your whole life was lonely. From an early age, you were marked by negativity, a thick cloud of bad decisions and worse consequences covering your sky of existence. Without friends, with distant family members, everything for you had been an experience of loneliness and isolation from which you could not escape.

ㅤBut, as much as it surprised people, you didn't feel completely trapped in the confines of your emotions –all you knew was loneliness and detachment, why would you feel bad about the conformity of your feelings? Having known all your life only the pleasure of your company and the negativity of the world, why would you seek help for yourself?

ㅤIn your eyes, you were normal, you didn't need help –those who made your life beautiful were the ones who needed help. And your grandmother was the most important element on your list of people who needed help.

ㅤYou took a deep breath when you entered the great company of Happin-us, your steps a little uncertain, your heart beating unevenly.

ㅤYou were anxious for yourself, the hope to help those who always loved you growing with each step as you walked to the director's office. You went up stairs, you saw agents running from one side to the other, everything was in chaos, almost as if mirroring what was happening in your mind.

ㅤWould they really help you? Help your grandmother? Everything pointed to yes, after all, why would they invite you to a meeting if they were going to deny your requests? Because, quite simply, you didn't know how to give up: the number of requests you sent to the company was enormous, each one with a new appeal, all of them focused on your grandmother –you just wanted to do something memorable for someone who loved you.

ㅤ“Come in.”

ㅤA slurred voice answered your knock on the door and, after taking another deep breath you opened the door and entered Yukichi Fukuzawa's office with the confidence of someone who was going to be heard.

ㅤ“Good afternoon,” you said patiently as you walked to the chair Fukuzawa indicated to you. “I apologize for the delay. There are fewer and fewer trains…”

ㅤ“It’s okay,” Fukuzawa set down his pen and looked at you curiously. “My name is Yukichi Fukuzawa and this is one of my subordinates, Ranpo Edogawa.”

ㅤRanpo made a small gesture with his head to greet you and you let out a small, empty smile.

ㅤYou sat in the chair and did your best to make yourself comfortable, now feeling the pressure falling on your shoulders.

ㅤ“I called this meeting to talk to you about your request.”

ㅤYou straightened your back and struggled to breathe as you saw the company director turning over pages and files, looking for something in those papers.

ㅤ“My subordinates told me that in the last month we received the same request three times. Not to mention that last year we received ten requests from you.” Fukuzawa cleared his throat and looked at you. “Can you briefly explain to us what you really want from us?”

ㅤYou nodded and spoke confidently, the speeches you had been rehearsing in front of the mirror finally coming to fruition.

ㅤ“My grandmother is already old and is becoming senile. She was always a simple person, with basic pleasures and happiness that surrounded her two grandchildren, me and my brother. When my brother got married, his wife became like a third granddaughter to my grandmother. But unfortunately, they have been taken by the government as guinea pigs for five years. None of them came back.”

ㅤRanpo was leaning in his chair listening patiently to you while he saw his boss leafing through papers, surrounding words and expressions, checking your speech.

ㅤ“Of course I hid it from my grandmother. I just told her that they had gone to live in the capital and she believed me. But she has been very ill lately and has been asking to see my brother and sister-in-law again. And I know that if she sees them one last time, that she will pass away happy.”

ㅤ“So what you’re asking us to do is find your brother?”

ㅤ“No, sir.”

ㅤYou took a deep breath and looked Fukuzawa in the eyes.

ㅤ“I'm asking two of your agents to pretend to be my brother and sister-in-law for one night.”

ㅤYour true request caught the two agents by surprise.

ㅤRanpo looked at his boss, studying his reactions, trying to understand what answer he would have for you. Fukuzawa, in turn, just stared at you as he repeated your request in his mind, your proposal being the last thing he could have imagined.

ㅤOf course, during your various requests, they were all vague; just your grandmother's need making itself felt in the dozens of papers you had filled out. Therefore, it was with great surprise to Fukuzawa and his disciple that they heard your boldness, the answer to your request being a mere lie to your grandmother.

ㅤAfter reading so many of your requests, Fukuzawa believed that you wanted to recover your brother, knowing perfectly well that this was impossible –once taken by the government, no person would be free again, no matter their role in society. It was easy to deny such a request, explaining to the client the power of the government and how they could not play with it for fear of reprisals.

ㅤBut this was different. Your request was different.

ㅤ“I don’t think I quite understood your request…”

ㅤNo. He had heard wrong. That could only be the explanation for Fukuzawa.

ㅤ“I'm asking two of your agents to pretend to be my brother and sister-in-law for one night.”

ㅤWord for word –there was the confirmation.

ㅤ“I'm sorry, but we called you here to tell you that we cannot accept your request.”

ㅤYou looked at Ranpo, catching his words with a nervous hand, the denial of your request sounding like venom on that young agent's lips.

ㅤEverything fell at your feet. With a simple statement from Ranpo, your whole world collapsed and you felt, for the first time, the weight of negativity falling on your shoulders. If they had never expected to accept your request, why did they give you hope by calling you to their headquarters? What cruel game were they playing by denying you all your hope and tearing away any light that still shined within you?

ㅤOne sentence was enough to create a dark void inside you, your entire lifetime of negativity crashing down on you over and over again in the small seconds that followed that agent's statement.

ㅤThey couldn't accept it... They never intended to accept it... So...

ㅤ“Why did you call me?”

ㅤYour voice was shaky, the strength you used to keep from crying clinging to the syllables of the hurt words you spoke.

ㅤYou looked at Ranpo, your eyes red with disappointment, bright with the hurt that existed inside you. And Ranpo looked at you without fear or remorse, his face without any expression, without being able to know what he was thinking, what he was feeling.

ㅤ“We sent a response to your second request,” Fukuzawa drawled, enticing you to look at him. “The letter should have been lost among the strike.”

ㅤThere was never a chance of you coming out victorious. They would always rip you off your feet and push you into the abyss that you've been avoiding since you were little. They would always be the causes of your rebellion.

ㅤ“But why?”

ㅤYou gave a small sob and took a deep breath –you weren't going to give them the pleasure of seeing you break down at that moment. If you lasted that long in the ocean of suffering, you would be able to last a few more minutes without collapsing.

ㅤ“I didn't ask you to destroy the government or kidnap my brother! I asked for something so basic, so simple…”

ㅤ“It’s not basic,” Ranpo said again and you looked at him, your eyes holding back all the tears that had been wanting to fall for years. And he hesitated for a moment. “What you are asking of us is against our rules.”

ㅤ“I didn’t ask you to be my boyfriend.” Your words came out aggressive, pointing out in Ranpo all your frustration about the whole situation. “I asked you to be my brother. It’s not a love relationship.”

ㅤTension filled Fukuzawa's office.

ㅤAt that moment, you were all walking on eggshells, the silence that settled in being interpreted differently by each of you. The seconds dragged by with the knowledge that this meeting was a failure, each movement of Fukuzawa's clock lulling the tension into a static lake of pure confusion and frustration.

ㅤYou wanted to scream. You were irritated. You wanted to scream at the two agents in front of you for giving you false hope. You wanted to rebel, make speeches driven by the anger and frustration you were feeling, completely fed up, and tired, of having been carried away by the company's hopes and stories.

ㅤ“It’s not a love relationship…”

ㅤRanpo whispered your words and straightened up in the chair, gently turning his body and looking at his superior with a mysterious and somewhat moony look.

ㅤ“It’s not a love relationship. We always took this case as something against the government, something we could not accept. But the reality is different now.”

ㅤ“There is a relationship.”

ㅤ“Correct,” Ranpo raised his index finger and showed, for the first time in that meeting, a smile that resembled the victorious smiles he gave at the end of a successful mission. “But it’s not with the customer.”

ㅤFukuzawa furrowed his brow and let his face show the rejection to that speech.

ㅤ“If two agents accept this mission, neither of them will have to be the client's partner. Just their brother. As a result, the relationship between the agents will be false and without any knowledge of the feeling. Which makes the mission easier. Which makes the mission something that can be accepted.”

ㅤYou gently opened your mouth, looking at Ranpo and Fukuzawa eager for an answer from the director, hoping that the agent's little speech would be enough to fill in the gaps that existed in your request.

ㅤ“No.”

ㅤRejection. Again.

ㅤ“Yes.”

ㅤHope. Again.

ㅤ“Think about it, Fukuzawa. Two agents who know nothing about love can create a unique love that will have no collateral damage in their existence.”

ㅤ“Even if this were possible, which agents could take such a risk?”

ㅤ“Me and Yosano.”

ㅤ“Absolutely not!” Fukuzawa's denial sounded like thunder in his small office, making you shiver with the fear that you had failed once again. “I will not put my two best agents at risk to satisfy a relationship request. You may be the best agent we have, and have more achievements than the entire building, but you won't take that risk. I will not allow it.”

ㅤ“But you're going to allow it,” Ranpo's smile expanded with his determination, his eyes shining with the idea of a new challenge. “Yosano and I can manufacture any emotion, including love. It will be easy to pretend to be a couple, especially if the client is old…”

ㅤ“And without any sense of reality! They could literally argue in front of her and she would thought it was something normal in the relationship!”

ㅤRanpo winked at you, grateful for your collaboration, knowing perfectly well that he would be able to convince his superior to accept that mission.

ㅤ“I promise that neither Yosano nor I will take unnecessary risks. Of all the work I've done, have I ever worried you? With so many of my achievements, have you ever seen me taking unnecessary risks? Besides, it's just one visit. Three hours and a dinner and we’re back completely immune to relationships.”

ㅤA brief silence and a sigh filled Fukuzawa's office as he, utterly defeated by Ranpo's logic, was completely mesmerized by his conviction of wise words.

ㅤIn fact, Ranpo was Happin-us's best agent, the one who accomplished the most achievements and missions. Anyone looking at Ranpo's repertoire could see several successful missions, several means and methods to be carried out by the young agent, giving only one result: success.

ㅤAs such, it was impossible to ignore all of Ranpo's achievements, so many complicated missions and easy clients enhancing the agent's resume, showing Fukuzawa that he was, in fact, the ideal person for that mission.

ㅤSo, with a new sigh after calculating all the probabilities of success and failure, Fukuzawa spoke softly, the words coming out almost in a whisper: “Three hours and a dinner. No more, no less.”

ㅤ“Three hours and dinner,” Ranpo replied now looking at you, the smile on his lips still powerful and beautiful. “No more, no less.”

ੈ♡˳───── feedback is appreciated ♡ ─────

#;us the happiless;#;bungou stray dogs constellation;#ranpo angst #ranpo fluff #ranpo drabble #ranpo x reader #ranpo imagines #ranpo x yn #ranpo x y/n #ranpo x you #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader

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foranpo · 6 months

Text

CASE FILE #01 ㅤ THE WEIGHT OF HAPPINESS.

ㅤ ˖°.archieve.ㅤ ˖°.case file #02. ‧₊˚.CONTENT ㅤㅤ˖°.clients: ranpo edogawa, gn!reader. ㅤㅤ ˖°.wc: 1,554.

ੈ♡˳────── enjoy the reading ♡ ──────

In Yokohama, there was a building.

ㅤOf course, the concrete number of buildings in that region had long been forgotten, continuing to provide neighborhoods of nostalgic cement and regretful rust. However, there was one building that was different from all the others; tall and bright, with all the windows filled and all the floors lively, the exception to that world of melancholy stood out for reaching the heavens without any difficulty and for sporting large, white letters with bright yellow outlines.

ㅤHappin-us.

ㅤA simple word shone in that world, overshadowing the decay of streets and neighborhoods, and covering up the entire dark abyss into which the world plunged.

ㅤYes. They were nothing more than a few simple letters, a childish pun, but it was enough to make anyone dream; it's just that Happin-us wasn't just any building – no.

ㅤThe reality, and although no one knows when it started, is that the world has changed. And all people changed with it.

ㅤIt started lightly, like a snowflake trying to cover the pavement we walk on: courageous, graceful, weak. Simply one Wednesday afternoon, people stopped feeling – and never felt again. Negative emotions resided in the hearts of those affected, shaping their souls, corrupting all feelings that were based on a more satisfactory molecule. Joy, hope, pleasure, any emotion considered positive had, miraculously, disappeared from people's essence.

ㅤIt was something agonizing, tragic, completely unreasonable for people to accept as reality – after all, how did only good feelings disappear from the world? What spells were enchanted to perform such curse? Maybe a ritual? A wish? Whatever it was, it could not be true. People couldn't have stopped feeling.

ㅤPerhaps, many believed, that people had simply forgotten how to feel. At least, that's what Yukichi Fukuzawa believed. As such, he founded Happin-us. A simple building in Yokohama that dedicated returning happiness. And, with the creation of a new association, hope began to dawn on the unfortunate who were destined for misery and despair.

ㅤIt's just that, in that new world, when someone was stained by negativity, their heart would quickly be corrupted and only darkness would adorn their mind; without any happiness, without any hope of getting better, with nothing more than pain, hurt, frustration. An intense cocktail of negative emotions haunted the minds of the unfortunate, without any hope of resolution. That is, until they become customers of the company Happin-us. For it was their destiny, their mission, to return all happiness to those who sailed in too much darkness.

ㅤAnd everyone idolized the big company in that gray world. Its yellow was worn proudly on its agents' badges, the joy of that color being the first thing the unfortunate people saw before having their lives drastically changed. Its name was pronounced like a promise, in such a weak and hopeful way that it was impossible to harbor any hatred for that company.

ㅤIn fact, Happin-us was a big company, home to great agents who didn't mind taking a little out of their day to make someone happy. But, if they asked on the streets or in the busy corridors of that company, everyone would respond unanimously by invoking the name of that company's best agent.

ㅤRanpo Edogawa, the prodigy agent.

ㅤMarked with a record of countless successes, Ranpo's stay at the organization began from a very early age, his teenage years spent between papers and clients. Ranpo has always shown incredible ease in helping the unfortunate: finding a dog in a world where not even flowers deign to bloom, convincing a mother to love her child, telling stories to orphans, remembering the deceased – Ranpo's record was extensive, and complex, and nothing but smiles and happiness covered the black lines of his record.

ㅤA hero in that building, indeed.

ㅤ“I already said no.”

ㅤBut, of course, with the ego of successes, there also came the ego of superiority that salivated from Ranpo's mouth every time a new case entered the company.

ㅤ“Ranpo, they asked for you. And they have money…”

ㅤTanizaki spoke quietly, repeating the speech he had rehearsed in front of the mirror, never prepared for Ranpo's spontaneous reactions.

ㅤ“I don't do cases for money, you know that,” he threw the file that Tanizaki had given him onto the table and then placed his feet on top of a potential client's dossier. “Besides, I don’t feel like paying for children’s trips today. It’s too basic.”

ㅤBasic.

ㅤTanizaki had been working at the agency for too long to know that when Ranpo said that word, there was no way he could change his mind. He would not accept that request, no matter how much money the client was willing to pay.

ㅤ“You make the interns' lives complicated,” Fukuzawa appeared behind Ranpo's cubicle, walking slow, words slurred, a friendly smile on his face as Ranpo looked at him.

ㅤ“I've been there too,” Ranpo leaned further in his chair and allowed his eyes to close, giving in to the tiredness he had been unable to shake off from the last case.

ㅤ“I have a request to make.”

ㅤRanpo opened one eye, curious about his boss's statement.

ㅤThere was a brief pause of seconds that seemed eternal to Ranpo. Curiosity was felt with every heartbeat as he waited for an answer; finally, something worth creating waited for Ranpo.

ㅤ“A client is coming here tomorrow for a private meeting,” Fukuzawa's voice sounded slurred, too tired with the daily routine, completely defeated by the boredom of his tasks. “I still don’t know the details of the request, but from what I have been told, it is a case that we cannot accept.”

ㅤ“None of us?”

ㅤRanpo questioned with curiosity trapped in the syllables, a tremendous need to know all the details to encourage Ranpo's question. After all, what kind of mission could it be?

ㅤ“None of us.”

ㅤOh. It was one of those requests.

ㅤThe thing is, even though Happin-us focused on returning happiness to the unfortunate, the reality is that there were certain requests that could make the entire process of fulfillment difficult.

ㅤThe most common requests were from those who had recently lost a loved one. Of course, the death of a family member or a friend was something intense, as overwhelming as the breaking of a heart, but its solution was always easy: a glass of stardust with two hours of conversation and another hour of leisure were the ideal recipe for resolving someone’s grief.

ㅤBut customers wouldn't just ask Happin-us for help when they lost someone; Various requests ran through the papers, from the theft of beloved household appliances to witnesses to horrendous crimes, a whole mix of requests were studied by the company's secretaries, carefully choosing the best agent for each case.

ㅤ“And what did you want to ask me?”

ㅤAnd Ranpo was the best agent for all cases – even the ones he couldn't take.

ㅤ“I would like you to accompany me to the meeting and explain to them why we cannot accept the request.”

ㅤRanpo fought with all his might not to smile. For the first time since his career in Happin-us, Ranpo would be in a private meeting with his boss, with the agent he admired most.

ㅤNodding his head, knowing that details of the request would reach his secretary very soon, Ranpo couldn't help but think about what that mission could be about.

ㅤAfter all, Happin-us only had two rules for its agents.

ㅤWith several requests for different essences, the methods for returning happiness were different, each agent working in a different way, different processes and logics existing in that huge building.

ㅤHowever, all agents had to follow two simple rules: never develop feelings, never accept romantic affairs.

ㅤIt could be considered irony on the part of the lucky ones, but the reality is that the agents of Happin-us, those people who specialized in returning smiles and healing broken hearts, didn't feel anything. No emotion fluttered in the hearts of the various agents other than the satisfaction of being able to accomplish a mission. No fears or anxieties, pleasure or anger. Nothing existed in the hearts of the agents – that was why they were the people most capable of satisfying the requests of an entire population.

ㅤAfter all, what was the true weight of happiness? When agents are forced to deny happiness but are obliged to offer it, what justice exists in that world? What weight does it carry for agents who, day after day, work hard to return something they never felt – that they were never allowed to feel?

ㅤ“Here are the details of tomorrow’s meeting,” Fukuzawa placed the papers on Ranpo’s desk after lunch, his voice continuing to slur. “Don’t be late.”

ㅤWithout waiting for a response from Ranpo, Fukuzawa returned to his office, leaving Ranpo in peace to study the details for the next day's discussion.

ㅤIt was with excitement that Ranpo held the new client's papers, his eyes shining with each line of information he read, skipping the basic points, focusing only on what mattered, as he deciphered the client's nervous handwriting.

Name: Y/F/N. ㅤAge: 2– years. ㅤResidence: Hiraizumi, Japan. ㅤOccupation: University Student – Ancient Cultures. ㅤㅤRequest: Please help me bring happiness to my grandmother again. She's old and becoming senile and she just wanted to see my brother and his wife one last time before she passes away. Please help me.

ੈ♡˳───── feedback is appreciated ♡ ─────

#;us the happiless;#;bungou stray dogs constellation;#ranpo x reader #ranpo x yn #ranpo x y/n #ranpo x you #ranpo angst #ranpo fluff #ranpo drabble #ranpo imagines #ranpo oneshot #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader

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foranpo · 6 months

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ㅤㅤus, the happiless.

‧₊˚.synopsis: his job was to bring joy back to people who had been tainted with suffering. he was the best agent, always managing to bring smiles to those most in need, providing long moments of happiness to those who had already suffered enough. ㅤㅤbut the problem was, once contaminated by suffering, the patient's improvement was almost impossible —and not even the best agents could escape the line of fate. ㅤㅤfor he was destined to fail, to fall, to question, to love.

‧₊˚.company: bungou stray dogs. ㅤ˖°.clients: ranpo edogawa, gn!reader. ㅤ˖°.request: multi-chapter. ㅤㅤ˖°.world: dystopian! ㅤㅤ˖°.warnings: fluff, angst, slow-burn, characters death. ‧₊˚.total word count: 9.605k.

‧₊˚.HAPPIN-US ARCHIEVE ㅤ˖°.case file #01...THE WEIGHT OF HAPPINESS. ㅤ˖°.case file #02...TIMELESS ACHIEVEMENTS. ㅤ˖°.case file #03...ALL THE CORRUPT REALITIES. ㅤ˖°.case file #04...GHOSTS OF WHO WE WERE. ㅤ˖°.case file #05...VOICES OF THOSE WHO LISTEN. ㅤ˖°.case file #06...THE TRUE ESSENCE OF SOMEONE. searching files...

#;us the happiless;#;bungou stray dogs constellation;#ranpo x reader #ranpo x you #ranpo x yn #ranpo imagines #ranpo angst #ranpo fluff #ranpo drabbles #ranpo drabble #ranpo oneshot #ranpo headcanons #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader

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foranpo · 7 months

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◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑` rumours heard by... .༊

‧₊˚. synopsis: gojo had vanity in his wings. perhaps, among the entire celestial realm, gojo's wings were the most beautiful and purest of them all. ㅤhowever, the contamination of a single feather makes the angel nervous about the destiny of his wings, leading him to ask god about the fate of corrupted wings. ㅤdriven by curiosity, and guided by god, gojo quickly finds his way to the underworld, where his mission to protect the devil leads him to discover truths that should not be revealed. ㅤwill the fate of his wings be more important than the truth about his own god?

‧₊˚. fandom: jujutsu kaisen. ㅤㅤ˖°. characters: getou x reader. ㅤㅤ˖°. genre: long-shot. ㅤㅤㅤ˖°. au: celestial! ㅤㅤㅤ˖°. content: angst, major character death. ‧₊˚. word count: ~3k each part // 10k total.

RUMORS HEARD BY THE ANGEL; ㅤㅤ–where the angel receives a new mission.

The sky was made of hundreds of celestial beings –small, magnificent and diverse creatures that effortlessly beautified the eternity of the kindest souls. However, of all existing creatures, the one that always stood out, the one that was always famous, was, without any doubt, the angel.

Everyone knew that to be an angel, to be worthy of possessing two beautiful white wings, one had to be, above all, beautiful. Of course, beauty was a subjective matter, with different perspectives shaping the meaning of the word itself; but the reality is that, in the celestial world, for someone to be beautiful, it was enough to be pure.

In the celestial world, where the color white ruled all beings present in paradise, the purity and innocence of that brilliant color dictated all laws and, as such, it was only natural for all celestials to be pure of heart. And, among so many candidates and so many angels, the purest creature of them all was, without a shadow of a doubt, Gojo Satoru.

There was not a single soul in that world who knew the origins of that angel or why he was considered the purest creature of all; however, everyone knew the reality that involved Gojo: of all the angels, he was the one who had the most beautiful wings: large and extensive, his feathers were extremely soft, making all creatures want to run their hands through them; the crown designated to Gojo, the small yellow daisies and gardenias, offered an extreme shine to Gojo's white hair, the play of colors hypnotizing so many creatures; the angel's eyes were already bright by nature, showing that that celestial being had already seen a lot, had already seen all of humanity's purest and darkest natures.

All this and much more made Gojo Satoru the most beautiful celestial being in that world –after all, Gojo not only had an interior that radiated white and yellow light, welcoming any being that spoke to him; no. Gojo Satoru also had unique physical beauty, hair and eyes, hands and lips, wings and words. Everything about Gojo Satoru was, in fact, beautiful.

However, it wasn't just that angel's singular beauty that made the celestial being someone to respect or admire –what really distinguished Gojo Satoru from all angels and creatures was the choice of pronouns he had decided to use. Choosing something as banal as a gender, Gojo's other colleagues began to treat him with respect, they began to congratulate him, to envy him.

Gojo Satoru was, in fact, one of the few angels who chose a gender, his rare decision being driven by the altruism of his heart, the hope of facilitating various conversations and missions showing the purity of Gojo's heart, making him the best angel in the heavenly world.

And, with Gojo being the best angel in the celestial world, it was only natural for god, for you, to constantly recruit him for your most important and cherished missions, Gojo's entire curriculum being filled with successes in missions of guidance and advice, Gojo's only failure being painted black on one of the smallest feathers on his right wing.

For, in the celestial world, missions dictated the wings of angels.

You didn't like to forgive as often as was believed, as you once did. After being betrayed time after time, you lost trust in your companions, your generosity was so characteristic that it was only exclusive to a few, to those who showed themselves worthy of your trust.

As such, you would like to punish the angels for their vanity.

By staining their wings with black petroleum, the feathers became tiring, the weight of failure making them so heavy that, if they were not compensated for in subsequent work, they would eventually fall off. However, if one was successful in their mission, the feathers would once again become extremely white, their lightness increasing their softness, forgiveness being conquered one feather at a time, the vanity of the angels losing importance after recovering their purity.

In fact, Gojo only had a single small black feather, so small that it was practically impossible to see; but Gojo knew it existed and knew that if he didn't make up for it, he would lose one of the feathers he treasured so much.

As such, and determined to show you that he was still capable of carrying out missions and erasing his failure, Gojo knocked lightly on the brown door in front of him, patiently waiting for your voice to sound on the other side.

“Come in,” you said monotonously, tired of such a long and exhausting day, wishing you could retire to your room and finally rest.

Upon your permission, a long, drawn-out sigh greeted Gojo as he entered, the desperation of your work being shrouded in hurt and tiredness –and Gojo shivered; he had never anticipated finding you in such a bad mood.

“Oh, Gojo. Do you need something?”

Your bright eyes quickly found Gojo's beautiful figure, the smile stuck on your lips being formed from the moment you pronounced your favorite angel's name.

Gojo had been to your office enough times to know that your affectionate greeting was your way of allowing Gojo to really enter the office –and he did so. With uncertain and calculated steps, Gojo carefully stepped on the red carpet of your office, his eyes always fixed on the chair he had to occupy.

In a few minutes, Gojo carefully sat down on the chair, arranging his beautiful wings so they wouldn't get deformed, and, when he was already comfortable on that wooden seat, he waited for you to speak to him –you always had to have the first word.

“So? To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

There was a certain tension between you and Gojo; there has always been tension between you and Gojo –ever since the angel remembered that tension filled the air when the two of you met, and what really worried Gojo was that he couldn't tell if the tension was something negative or if it was due to the fact that you respect Gojo like you've never respected anyone else.

There was a brief moment of silence filled with doubts on Gojo's part, curiosity slowly growing in you and, unable to bear the endless wait, you let out a new smile, a smile that carried with it the impatience you felt.

And Gojo shuddered.

As soon as that curved line formed on your lips, Gojo shivered, feeling obliged to speak. The angel took a deep breath in an attempt to gather all the strength that had abandoned him from the moment he entered the office; he swallowed hard, searching for the right words in his mind and, adjusting his right wing, Gojo finally spoke:

“I wanted to make up for the failure of the mission that stained my wing.”

You allowed Gojo's request to hang in the air like angels' feathers, the lightness of his words being transported to a universe far from you, Gojo's bright eyes unable to meet your face as you waited for Gojo's speech to come to an end.

But how could the angel finish his reasoning if he didn't even know what to do?

The reality is that Gojo had heard rumors.

During his time in the celestial world, there were several rumors that roamed the corridors of the great palace, the whispers of the various angels and archangels becoming so common that one thought they were true stories.

Rumors were told in laughter and whispers, some more detailed than others, the sweet and bitter words that slipped through the lips of the various celestials carrying lives and hopes, destroying reputations and goals.

In fact, the rumors in the celestial world were something that was on everyone's lips; even though no malice was found in the pronunciation of the immense words, the reality is that all the consequences that those simple rumors could bring were inevitable.

And that was why Gojo avoided them at all costs –after all, Gojo was the best angel in the celestial world.

However, there was a rumor that seemed to entice Gojo, the devil's own hand guiding the various words to the angel's ears every time that subject was mentioned by others.

Because, quite simply, Gojo couldn't ignore rumors about angel wings.

Gojo has always had a special liking for the various wings that existed, admiring the different shapes and sizes, the textures of the feathers and how they changed depending on a mission. Wings have always been something that intrigued Gojo. Yes, the angel always felt amazed at the various wings that were found in the celestial world, so it was only natural for him to hear the various rumors that alluded to such a delicate and gentle topic.

Several rumors had been heard by Gojo, all of them carefully considered in an attempt to understand the complexity of those gossips, trying to unravel which were true and which were the most absurd. However, the reality is that in a world where everything has to be true, it was quite difficult to find something that was a lie.

In this way, Gojo always feared.

There were several rumors that he heard, true, but most of them were filled with a negativity that should not be so simple for celestial beings to pronounce.

Gojo always lived under the illusion that angel wings were something guaranteed, something that one got as soon as they reached heaven and proved their worth to god, to you. However, with so many rumors running through the angel's ears, Gojo began to value his wings more, stroking his feathers three hours a day, washing them with precision and care, his most precious possession being those two gifts offered by you.

“Is the black feather bothering you?”

No response.

No reaction.

Of course the feather was bothering Gojo. Spending a life immersed in the purity of white, having a small black spot that carried malice with it was everything that bothered that angel the most.

Gojo sighed, unable to find the courage to speak anymore, hoping that you would be the same as always and continue your thought out loud, giving Gojo a small opening to finally speak.

“Why does it bother you so much? You’re not the only one who only has a dark feather,” you smiled, as if finding the whole situation amusing, as if delighting in Gojo’s concern.

And Gojo knew.

Gojo knew that he was not the only one who carried with him the consequences of poorly executed missions, he knew that there were many angels and archangels who vainly displayed the beauty of all their feathers so that all who deigned to see them would know that they had stories to tell. But Gojo wasn't like them. Gojo was different. And, being different, he wanted to remain pure, he didn't want to be corrupted by failure and, as such, he was determined to have a mission that would compensate him for that small, shy black feather.

“I have heard rumors, my liege.”

Gojo began to speak quietly, the angel's tired eyes focusing only on your table, the various manuscripts and illegible letters becoming everything that Gojo saw. “And, honestly, they are the ones that bother me the most.”

“What rumors?”

You seemed to be genuinely interested in the angel's words, putting down your pen that you were writing with and resting your elbows on the table top, while you let your star-stained hair entice Gojo to look at you –as soon as the shine and smell of your hair became intense, the angel could no longer retreat.

Gojo stared at you, losing himself for brief moments in your intense eyes, falling into the stories they told with each wink.

“Gojo?”

“Rumors of…”

Should Gojo tell you the truth? To his superior? What if the reality of all the rumors he heard was just that? Mere rumors that had no basis of truth? But still, there was a small part of Gojo that believed these rumors, a small part that wanted to know the truth about them, that little black feather enticing Gojo's lips to utter the question that had lodged itself in the angel's throat for so long.

“What happens when an angel has all his wings painted black?”

“Is that what worries you?” The laugh you let out was loud and melodious, the echo of the fun you felt echoing loudly in your office, bringing a little comfort to that large room. “I doubt you’ll let your wings get all contaminated.”

“But what happens?”

Gojo's insistence was something unusual for the angel, after all, Gojo had never let his curiosity and fear tarnish his purity. That is, until he finally got a black feather.

The silence that followed was different, filled with doubts on both sides.

Your eyes showed a bit of concern in their intense shine, the smile you always wore on every occasion fading as soon as Gojo's insistence was felt in the angel's inappropriate words.

The wait that existed to find out who would be the next to speak seemed endless, with neither of you wanting to take the first step to reestablish the conversation.

In fact, a lot of time has passed since Gojo's last words hung in the air, you looking at him attentively, Gojo looking away from your figure, completely consumed by the shame of his actions –Gojo shouldn't have asked that.

“Gojo, let me ask you something.”

You carefully dragged your chair just enough to give you room to get out, your feet lightly stepping on the office carpet as you walked to the golden shelf, the shelf that was meant for the more complicated missions, the missions that were only assigned to the best angels of all.

“You've been here for a few centuries. I'm sure you've seen a lot. Both in our world and in the ancient world. So let me ask you… Have you ever seen an angel with completely black wings?”

Your question was dragged by the turning of pages of the book you were holding, the sight of your delicate movement calmly and patiently dragging the question to Gojo's ears.

As soon as the angel heard the words, as soon as he processed what you had asked him, Gojo realized that, in fact, he had never seen anyone with completely black wings. Yes, he could have seen large wings stained with black, but some purity and innocence of the white of the angels always managed to quickly contrast in those wings. No celestial being was wearing fully black wings in that world.

“I deduce that, from your silence, your answer is negative.” You once again adopted that smile that was so characteristic of yours, the various meanings that that simple curved line contained had yet to be revealed. “I confess that I am not the best soul to answer you, Gojo. So I think this mission will be useful for you. For your curiosity, I mean. And, if you're lucky, who knows, maybe for your feather as well.”

When you spread out a single sheet of paper, Gojo realized that a new mission was being assigned to him and, consequently, a new opportunity.

As such, and determined not to make a mistake that time, Gojo grabbed the sheet of paper, decoding some letters where the ink was still drying, quickly discovering that this was a mission written by you in that short space of time while you hoped that Gojo would answered.

However, it wasn't the speed with which you wrote the mission that surprised Gojo –no. What caught the angel's attention the most were the small, detailed letters that spelled out the name of the being that Gojo was supposed to protect and guide, those five letters coming together perfectly on the white paper, forming a single, powerful word.

“Creator, it must be a mistake …”

Gojo didn't want to believe what his eyes read over and over again, the name of the being insisting on being read by Gojo, stealing his voice and his concentration.

“There’s no mistake, Gojo.”

And there was your smile once again, as you watched your pupil read the name of his new mission over and over again.

“Your new mission is to be the devil’s guardian angel.”

And, in fact, it was no mistake.

Gojo's descent into the lost world was long and fearful, so many doubts and fears arising in Gojo without the angel's permission, a fear for his stay becoming increasingly overwhelming with each step closer to his destination.

The underworld was, in reality, something totally different from the heavenly world and Gojo did not feel at all comfortable in it. To begin with, the angel had to hide his beautiful wings, refusing to dye them black for fear that they would remain dark; Around him, darkness and obscurity tried to tarnish Gojo's purity, enticing him to the darker side of existing beings, trying to pull him into that dark and cold world. The angel looked around, the lack of beings intriguing him, the atmosphere differing from the celestial world in every aspect.

How was Gojo supposed to last six months in that world?

“Are you lost?”

A laugh echoed in that cave, a shiver taking over the angel as the echo amplified the malice hidden in that innocent question.

Gojo looked to the side, seeing a tall and handsome young man with a smile on his face, a bit of uncertainty being brought out in his intense gaze. Gojo stared at that man, the angel's tired eyes admiring the figure before him, wondering how someone as beautiful as him could be in such a dark and wicked place.

“You’re new here, is that it? Well, welcome to my kingdom!”

His kingdom?

Gojo opened his mouth gently as he looked at the man, the darkness of the cave now shining with a bit of light that the full moon provided at that moment and that was when Gojo really saw it: wicked smile on his lips, dark eyes shining with mischief, small, curved horns coming out of the man's head showing his evil nature, and denouncing that he was, in fact...

“The devil…”

Gojo's sigh quickly evaporated into the darkness of the underworld, the coldness of that atmosphere quickly freezing the angel's realization, not making it walk very far from the two of them.

Gojo didn't want to believe it.

He knew that the underworld was full of malicious and dangerous souls, people who had strayed from the path of kindness, angels who had betrayed you; however, Gojo never expected to find a figure as beautiful as that man, something different about him pulling Gojo more and more towards the malicious ways of the world, the darkness that existed around him focusing only on the devil, on his beautiful figure, on his wicked smile, on his cursed essence.

When he heard his name, the man expanded his smile, his eyes adopting a new and mysterious shine, his lips carefully, sensually and persuasively pronouncing the words that quickly escaped his mouth, traveling throughout his world, making shake all the inhabitants of his kingdom:

“In the flesh.”

ㅤ

RUMORS HEARD BY THE DEVIL; ㅤㅤ–where the devil resembles an angel.

The first time Getou arrived in the underworld, there was nothing. An overwhelming darkness covered the entire length of that place, no light, plant or being deigned to take root in that soulless place.

The first time Getou arrived in the underworld, there was nothing. He was lost, his body still very trembling from the fall he suffered, his eyes still burning from the disloyalty he suffered, his head filling with unknown voices, with voices that shouldn't be there.

The first time Getou arrived in the underworld, there was nothing. Therefore, overcome by the anger that consumed him and the feeling of betrayal, Getou decided to act.

The beginning wasn't easy, after all, Getou didn't know what to do, let alone how to do it.

It had been several days in which Getou stood observing the ancient world, waiting patiently, looking for ways and means to get some company –but oh, what a fantastic job the angels were doing in guiding the many lost souls. But the loneliness became desperate at that moment, the voices ringing loudly and enticing Getou to act, to do something for him once in his eternal existence.

And, since he never had the ability to rebel, Getou decided to follow the orders of the voices inside him.

Getou's voice began to sound like a melody in the ears of many people, encouraging them to disobey their angels, intriguing them with his company, leading them down through dark and dead-end paths.

As such, little by little, with your rejection of the evil paths they followed, Getou decided to welcome the abandoned souls, building a small kingdom of his own –a small kingdom that expanded over the centuries, Getou's need of not feeling alone calling so many different people.

But it was never enough.

For some reason, no matter how many corrupted souls Getou harbored, he always felt alone. And, as he was corrupted by the feeling of loneliness and betrayal, Getou's kind nature found itself destroyed by the shadows of his new kingdom, the darkness of the underworld hiding all the good and bright memories, leaving him with only the anger of a betrayal he would never forgive, nor understand.

“What’s your name?”

In addition to managing that new kingdom, one of Getou's many jobs was to guide souls lost in the underworld, giving them a shelter and an occupation, knowing perfectly well that an eternity could become boring if it wasn't occupied with a good hobby.

Getou guided the newcomer through the turbulent paths of the underworld, his eyes always attentive to all the activity that was going on, trying to understand if something was out of place or if someone needed something –maybe there was still a little kindness left in the midst of his destruction.

The girl didn't speak, shy for being in the presence of the devil, scared for being away from her relatives and friends; it was a premature harvest, indeed, but it was something necessary for the existence of that little soul, since, if it spread its existence in the ancient world, the result could be much worse.

“You’re not alone here. I guarantee you that at least one member of your family is here too.”

Getou stopped walking and faced the young girl.

Having been ruling that kingdom for centuries, Getou's patience had been corrupted with tremendous ease, especially because none of those souls that roamed there deigned to facilitate his work –not that Getou was afraid of punishing them, he just hadn't time for that.

So, just one look from him was enough to make the girl speak, her name escaping from her lips in fear and respect, the smile that appeared on Getou's face being malicious as he realized that that new soul was not, in fact, alone.

“You helped her.”

Gojo appeared behind Getou, confusion expressed in the beautiful features of his face, Gojo's eyes wandering with some curiosity to that girl's embrace with her aunt.

“Shouldn’t I?”

Getou laughed a little, walking away from that tender scene and heading towards the office –there was so much work pending.

“It’s just that…”

“You just thought I was a heartless creature who just wants to see disorder in this world and the ancient one.”

Gojo did not respond, following Getou at the pace dictated by the sovereign, waiting for him to continue speaking, as he always continued to speak. “I heard those rumors. My subordinates insist on telling me everything that involves my name. A creature’s imagination goes beyond unreachable worlds.”

“So it’s not true? That rumor, as you called it.”

Gojo was feeling strange, completely confused by what had happened, wondering for two months now if all the rumors he had heard about that place were, in fact, true.

“Oh no,” Getou laughed and entered the office, a space quite similar to the one you used, the choice of furniture and colors being made on purpose to tease you. “It is true. But seeing destruction all the time becomes boring. Every now and then, a good deed can bring joy.”

Gojo's eyes were fixed on Getou's figure from the moment he sat down at the desk and, very reluctantly, began to observe all the papers of the various and infinite souls that still roamed the ancient world, carefully reading their entire journey, mentally asking himself who should come and visit him and when they should do it.

As much as he wanted to deny it, and even though he was already used to his mission, Getou always felt discomfort when it came the time to choose the next soul to be harvested; at first it seemed to be easier, his loneliness and hatred constantly driving his bad actions –but now everything changed, and Getou couldn't understand why.

And Gojo stood staring at Getou, forgetting that his job was to help him choose between those piles of less fortunate candidates.

However, the reality is that Gojo was never able to help Getou, and was still pondering the devil's words; Gojo found himself less and less capable of carrying out the obligation that was given by Getou from the moment he arrived in the underworld.

Gojo was, above all, an angel, and, being an angel, it was against his nature to choose the corrupt destiny of anyone, especially the various souls that roamed the ancient world –but Gojo just had to fulfill his obligation, his disguise having to remain intact for another four months.

However, at that moment, everything seemed complicated to Gojo.

Seeing Getou there, so reluctant to choose anyone, hearing him mention kindness with purity gracing his lips, everything seemed strange to Gojo. Everything seemed like a lie and he didn't seem to be able to understand what was really going on.

“How did you become the devil?”

Gojo's question had caught Getou off guard, his words forcing all his movements and attention to focus only on those simple words, his entire body shaking involuntarily when remembering a past that Getou just wanted to forget.

“Don’t call me that.”

Getou was proud to be the devil, that was true, but seeing a creature as beautiful as Gojo uttering a word denoting such hatred and corruption, made Getou feel angry without knowing why. “Devil. Lucifer. Beelzebus. What’s-the-name. None of them should be pronounced by you.”

“Why?”

Gojo wanted to stop being so confused by everything that was going on: his entire existence in the underworld was marked by traces of confusion and struggle –nothing seemed true to him. Gojo felt like he was living in a lie, that kingdom of Getou keeping secrets in all the shadows and coldest corners, no one being able to clarify a little the ideas of that angel so devoted to his work, and his wings.

“Because an angel shouldn’t be surrounded by corruption, much less verbalize it.”

Getou returned to his work as if nothing had happened, his observation catching the angel completely off guard, his lips uttering empty words without any meaning, no response being able to be constructed by Gojo.

“How do you…”

“You said it yourself the first time I saw you, remember?” Getou raised his head and faced Gojo, no smile filling his face, no sparkle beautifying his eyes. “I am the devil. As such, I know everything. More than your boss. More than you can imagine.”

Gojo took a deep breath.

How should he act? If Getou knew he was an angel, he certainly also knew what mission he was carrying out, what meant the failure of his mission, what meant another black feather in his repertoire.

“What should I call you, then?”

No. Getou couldn't know that Gojo was playing the role of his guardian angel; Getou's choice to use Gojo as his secretary was pure coincidence, the angel just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Getou didn't know about Gojo's mission.

“I was once known as Getou.”

There was a trace of longing stuck in his name, the memories of when he had an identity outside the underworld tormenting Getou from the moment he uttered that name of his that caused him so much hurt.

“What changed?”

The angel's question hung in the air for some time, Getou trying to escape that question by focusing on his work, all the letters becoming blurred when his eyes decided to shine with the longing for his past.

“None of the rumors are true…”

Getou gave a dull laugh when he remembered the barbarities he had heard about his story –that was why Getou began to hate angels. Living in a perfect world, where everything is guaranteed, none of those celestial creatures knew the cruel reality of existence, none of them knew the truth.

However, it seemed that all the angels had an opinion to give, rumors roaming the upper realm with tremendous ease, no true basis to support them, no one really wanting to know the truth.

“What rumors?”

“Didn’t you hear?” Getou sighed and let his body relax in the chair, his eyes closed in an attempt to contain all the pain he was feeling at that moment. “That I betrayed god and that's why he expelled me from your world. Or that I made so many mistakes in my missions that I fell. That I am the first fallen angel. Didn’t you hear any of that?”

Gojo had, in fact, heard all those rumors and many more, the mouths of the various angels being stained by the dark stories of this world and its sovereign.

Gojo had, in fact, heard all those rumors and believed them all, as he had always been taught that the devil was the evil figure in all existences.

Gojo had, in fact, heard all those rumors, but since his stay in the underworld he realized that maybe, but just maybe, all those rumors were false, the devil he met in that place being totally different from the devil portrayed by angels and humans.

“What did you come here for? To my kingdom?”

Waiting for a response from Gojo was proving tiring, Getou's time being precious as his work increased with each birth in the ancient world. Getou wanted to end the conversation, not quite knowing how, not being able to figure out what direction it could take, Gojo's curiosity being something different, something unexpected in an angel as beautiful as him.

“I came on a mission.”

There was no reason to lie, to hide anything.

During those two months in Getou's kingdom, Gojo learned that he couldn't stand lies and he wanted to try to be as honest as possible; that is, as honest as possible without tarnishing his precious wings.

“I came to find out what happens to the wings once they all turn black.”

A new moment of silence appeared between Gojo and Getou, this time the angel's words taking the devil by surprise.

Getou stared at the angel without any expression other than pure perplexity, his words flying so delicately to the safest corners of the office, settling in inappropriate places for words as pure as those.

Getou stood up abruptly, his eyes seeing nothing but Gojo's beautiful figure and, without realizing it, he spoke in a small, prolonged whisper, his voice, always so lofty and powerful, becoming submissive before Gojo's mission.

“Let me see your wings.”

Gojo remained static for a moment, staring at Getou and trying to understand whether his request was driven by madness, curiosity or simply his knowledge of wing anatomy.

Gojo didn't want to take any chances –after all, they didn't know each other at all and he had already heard several stories that addressed Getou's perversity and malice. But Gojo had also seen a different side of him, a side that no one talked about or was even remotely interested in, especially because Gojo was sure that no one knew that side of Getou.

And, preferring two months of coexistence with Getou to centuries of rumors heard about him, Gojo allowed his wings to tear his black clothes, their whiteness and purity able to proudly illuminate Getou's office.

The wings were large and long, Getou's eyes bet that they were extremely soft, and the gentleness with which they moved in the air as they adapted to their original shape was of an extremely delicate and beautiful nature, worthy of the most beautiful of angels.

Getou cautiously approached Gojo, totally mesmerized by the innocence of those white feathers, and, with care and delicacy, Getou allowed one of his hands to touch Gojo's feathers and smiled: they were really soft. Getou gently stroked some feathers on Gojo's right wing, his smile showing a bit of longing and some sadness was trapped in his eyes, threatening to come out at any moment.

“You have beautiful wings, Gojo.”

Getou had one rule for himself and one rule only: he never allowed himself to address any soul that inhabited his kingdom by its proper name. For centuries, he created nicknames and baptized people with new names, all because he believed that no one deserved to have their name tarnished with his words and voice full of malice.

But at that moment, nothing mattered. Nothing mattered when he had the softness of pure wings in his hands once again. Nothing mattered when their innocence managed to convey a little hope in that world, in Getou's world.

“I don’t think you have to worry about black wings.”

Gojo didn't say anything.

With a quick but calculated movement, he lifted the wing that Getou was stroking, the small black dot standing out in the midst of so much purity –and Getou watched that feather carefully, memories quickly passing through his mind with that simple scenario.

Getou sighed and slowly returned to his place, standing, facing Gojo and, without any use of words, his own wings appeared on his back, tearing his shirt, exposing himself in his grandeur.

At the beginning, there was an intense, white light, Getou's wings being short but abundant, his two wings having a simplicity and beauty that made them unique. But then, as quickly as the passing of a lifetime, Getou's wings were all stained black, the softness giving light to harshness, the weight of corruption becoming so much that some feathers began to fall out.

And at that moment, Gojo was able to see.

Although when white they covered its entire length, when black there were empty spaces, tremendous flaws in that picture that could be so beautiful when observed carefully.

Getou's wings showed the weight of deception, the weight of failure.

And at that moment, Gojo hesitated.

“It’s not as bad as it seems.”

Getou tried to smile a little, tried to laugh a little, but the pain he still felt was strong, taking over his words, his emotions.

And Getou, without meaning to, was already crying. “It’s much worse.”

This time, Getou managed to laugh, a sound that was once feared by everyone, now brought regret with it, Gojo feeling overwhelmed by the whole sight –it was all happening too fast. Gojo didn't know how to act.

“You…”

“Yes, I was an angel. Yes, I was the first fallen angel. That part, at least, is true.”

Getou was ashamed of his wings: not because they were black, for he found beauty in their darkness; not because they were short, as he found tenderness in their shape; but rather due to the fact that they were less and less when exposed and Getou knew what would happen when all his feathers fell with the weight of a betrayal unknown to everyone.

“But I didn’t make a mistake. I didn't fail. Maybe... Maybe my only mistake was too much devotion. But I didn’t deserve my fate!”

Getou wanted to continue speaking, he wanted to warn that beautiful angel who stood before him, but his suffering spoke louder, choking him with a long-awaited cry, the anger he felt for all the angels and archangels being expressed in his silent screams that trapped his heart, that prevented him from feeling anything other than hatred and sadness.

Getou was suffocating in his own feelings, in his own pain, and there was no one who cared, there was no one who wanted to know.

There was no one until Gojo decided to shelter Getou in his arms.

Not only did Gojo hug the devil tightly, protecting his body from all the hatred that could be felt in that compartment, but he also made use of his delicate nature. In a gentle and somewhat quick movement, Gojo's wings carefully wrapped Getou, offering a little tranquility to his tormented mind, sweeping away with the movements of his wings any and all hesitations that might exist in Getou's anguish.

And the angel waited.

Letting Getou let go of all the negativity at that moment, Gojo waited for him to calm down, for him to be at least comfortable to continue that conversation, not being able to understand very well what had happened.

It all happened very quickly: the exposure of Getou's wings, his words, his hurt.

Gojo had hesitated the whole time, not knowing how to respond, or if he should –after all, Getou was the devil.

But if Getou was the devil, it meant that, at a certain point, he had been an angel, and if he was chosen from among the most diverse souls to carry the weight of purity and generosity, it meant that Getou, at a certain point, had been kind. Not only that; Gojo swore that Getou still held onto his true nature with strength and pride, his small gestures of kindness bringing him peace of mind.

Because Getou, quite simply, had been an angel before being the devil.

“I didn't do anything,” Getou's voice came out hoarse, oppressed by his crying, tired from so many centuries of loneliness and sadness; but at that moment, he didn't feel alone. “I did nothing. It’s all their fault.”

“Their?”

Gojo walked away, curious about Getou's words, a little afraid of what might follow –because, deep down, Gojo already knew which way that confession would take.

“The one who kicked me out of your world.”

Getou's words were filled with hatred and bitterness, something so characteristic of the character he had adopted so long ago. His eyes burned with tears, yes, but beyond the glow of sadness, the glow of hatred reigned, his lips pronouncing with clarity and spite all the words that followed, showing Gojo that he remembered perfectly what had happened centuries ago. “Your sovereign. Your god.”

ㅤ

RUMORS HEARD BY THE GOD; ㅤㅤ–where god confessed their secret.

In the beginning, you weren’t called god.

Before the beginning of all things, you had a name, a single word that was spoken with satisfaction and respect by all the souls that inhabited the celestial world. To match your unique beauty, you were called YN –a name so unique and unusual, a celestial magic clinging to each different pronunciation, a ray of hope and forgiveness clinging to each syllable of that name you adopted, that name that Getou gave you.

Yes, because, in the beginning, you only had Getou.

Before the beginning of all things, you created Getou, the most beautiful soul that would ever exist.

For long eternities, Getou had been your only company, his presence making you grow, his unpredictable nature making you always curious about Getou. Because, even though Getou was your creation, you couldn't figure him out.

Getou was unique, even in a universe where only darkness, you and him existed. Getou was different, even in a universe where only shadows, kindness and curiosity existed.

And, because he stood out from all the darkness and light, you idolized Getou, the master becoming the student in the teachings of essences, an immense desire to satisfy him taking over you.

Your relationship with Getou was complex, a mutual respect and admiration was born as natural as the first star in the sky –as the first gift from you to Getou.

Getou captivated you with his words, speeches on subjects yet to be studied enticing you to want to know more about them, to want to show that he was right or to prove that he was wrong.

And, after the first star, the first planet appeared.

Small creations appeared after Getou's arrival in the universe, the need to complete Getou moving your hands, no plan passing through your mind beyond that curious look and Getou’s lips dyed by malice.

Getou was darkness before you and goodness after you. Getou was your downfall, the prevailing of darkness. And you knew it, and you feared Getou for it. For, from the moment Getou decided to name you god, his lips contained all the power to destroy the universe.

Your name never sounded so melodious when spoken by Getou, and you knew it. It was the way his lips moved perfectly, the way only he got the correct pronunciation of your name, the way a smile clung to his lips every time he said your name: YN. YN. YN.

You were afraid of Getou. You were afraid of the power you had given him by allowing him to create a new word that portrayed god. YN. That should be a forbidden word, a swear word even, all the power that that simple word contained being extremely dangerous for Getou, for you, for the universe.

But you always forgot your fear every time a new creation was requested by Getou.

After so many stars and constellations, entire galaxies were home to planets and colorful clouds, nebulae and stars decorating what was once just darkness and gloom. There was water and trees on Getou's favorite planet, flames and ice in the spheres that proved theories wrong. Getou was the cause of all creations. Getou questioned you and you responded, creating all his doubts and provocations.

Perhaps, if you hadn't let yourself be dazzled by Getou, you would have realized all the malice that was hidden beneath his angelic words.

It was only a matter of time before other beings were created, the celestial world being home to so many beautiful creatures –angels, archangels and souls too pure to be placed in the confines of the universe; several beautiful and imaginary creatures became your friends, a vast network of family members forming from the moment Getou confessed to you that just two souls couldn’t control the immensity of existence.

And that's why guardian angels were created.

Getou wanted an activity that would occupy him now that all possible creations had already seen the light of your hands. Getou wanted something that would make him as curious and happy as questioning you. Getou wanted to continue to have some power, even subjugating himself to you, to his god.

As such, and always thinking about satisfying him, you created humans.

Souls without any experience of the universe were spread across the most diverse planets, teams of angels being deployed to different parts of the universe, Getou leading all the angels –after all, and since he was your right-hand man for all eternities, it was only natural for him to be the first guardian angel and the one who commanded all the others.

Yes, it was hard work, quite complicated even, Getou's entire attention focused on angels and humans, endless piles of resumes and information flooding your favorite angel's dark and cozy office.

It was complicated, yes, but you were always by Getou's side.

You were in charge of guiding Getou, helping him understand when a human needed help and when the time was right to let angels follow those lost souls.

Entire generations were spent in each other's company, nothing changing since it was just you, Getou and darkness.

You became god of all existing creations and Getou became the guide of all souls in the universe.

And you two were happy.

Engaged in tasks and with new things emerging depending on the creatures' evolution, you and Getou were happy.

The universe was in harmony.

Guided by the wisdom of so many pure souls, there was no disorder or malice in existence. Kindness prevailed. Every time a mistake was made and admitted, you forgave and Getou guided the right path to that soul. Everything was perfect. Everything was light. Everything was good.

But nothing lasts.

Gojo Satoru was a human like any other, with the only difference being that Gojo carried on his shoulders the overwhelming weight of a life guided by tired angels. Several guardian angels had been put in charge of Gojo, all of them giving up when they saw his simplicity, when they realized that, in reality, Gojo didn't need them, all of the angels believing that the young human was fine on his own.

And so many angels neglected Gojo that even the human began to neglect himself.

For where the light of the angels does not shine, darkness prevails.

Getou heard about this story.

Getou learned of Gojo's situation, and Getou studied Gojo's situation, and Getou became interested in Gojo's story.

Getou wanted to help him. It was obvious that he wanted to help him, after all, he was an angel –a guardian angel. As such, Getou spent endless times in the comfort of his office, papers and plans rushing through Getou's hands and mind at such a speed that it resembled the speed at which rumors flew in the celestial world.

Rumors that were heard by you.

Since Getou never directly took care of any soul, since he didn't have time to do so, whispers and sighs were created so quickly, telling the news of his new project to whoever heard them, culminating in your docile ears.

Getou hadn't told you anything: why bother you, the supreme sovereign, with a mere human? And perhaps that was Getou's mistake –because, in the existence of goodness, there will always be malice.

Angels were the most gossipy beings in the celestial world. Spending eternities getting to know each other and uncovering their own secrets, it was always fun to embrace their curiosity for worlds beyond the upper one –and, in that decade, Getou was the chosen one. And you listened.

Stories of how Getou allowed himself to be bewitched by a human crossed the most beautiful lips of the angels, phrases filled with perversity and malice roaming the corridors of the celestial world, theories and conspiracies about how Gojo was as beautiful as you being the foundation of the belief that Getou was, in fact, in love with the human.

And you listened. And you didn't forget. And you didn't forgive.

So, on that fateful day, when Getou finally managed to guide Gojo on the path of kindness, you called Getou, promises of gifts and happiness to entice the angel, to make him believe in his god, in your always so altruistic and kind nature.

And it was with the belief in this temporary goodness that Getou was corrupt.

You were jealous of Gojo. You wanted Getou all to yourself. There was no one more beautiful than you –you were god itself, your soul and figure were simply sublime. So why had Getou chosen a human? Why didn't he see you the way you saw him? Why didn't Getou want you like you wanted him? Had you neglected Getou's soul? Had you taken Getou's existence for granted and simply let the laziness of taking care of him get the best of you?

Had you, the god, failed?

No.

Impossible.

God never fails, god is always right, you were always right. It had been Getou. Getou is the one who allowed a soul as dirty as Gojo's to corrupt Getou's heart with the beauty of his figure. Getou is the one who allowed the malice of humans to entice him to give his heart to a soul other than yours.

Yes, you were certain that Getou had caused all the destruction.

And therefore you were consumed with anger. And as if devouring everything in front of you, you stained Getou's wings with the black ink you used to create missions, with the ink that Getou had offered you at the beginning of all things.

And when you saw Getou disappearing into the blackness of his wings, you swore never to forgive again. When you saw Getou screaming for justifications and explanations, you swore never to love anyone again. Seeing the black paint clinging to Getou's wings and clothes, you swore never to use the name he had given you again. Seeing Getou begging for forgiveness and falling through worlds and universes to the underworld, you swore never to remember him again.

As such, you now looked at Getou in complete shock, his black clothes and wings forcing your mind to remember all of your history, all of your destruction.

Getou had changed.

Getou was no longer an angel.

His eyes stopped adopting that shine that mesmerized you so much, only to be dyed by the burning of infinite tears that flowed every time he remembered you. Getou's delicate, ever-present smile was now non-existent, no curve on his lips showing the kindness he once possessed. And his wings... the wings that you loved making most, the wings that gave you the most pleasure creating, were now practically non-existent: all the feathers were black, some torn, others struggling to stay strong, and others letting go of Getou tiredly. Black dust beautified your carpet every time one of Getou's feathers came loose and clashed heavily with the purity of the celestial world.

Getou was different.

Getou had changed, but his stance was still immense, filling an entire room with his energy. However, what was once light and kindness were now shadows of a past shrouded in betrayal and destruction.

“I was forced to come.”

Getou crossed his arms as a small teasing smile was drawn across his handsome lips, his dirty finger pointing at Gojo.

And you faced the angel.

Yes, you swore never to remember Getou again, but the feeling of his loss corrupted your heart, a nostalgia for paradisiacal eternities forcing you to do something you had never done before, something you yourself never thought of doing: moved by guilt, guided by anguish, you stopped giving Gojo's soul a body, taking him to the heavenly world and making him the angel he was now – maybe, with Gojo's presence by your side, you could alleviate the sin that no one knew you had committed.

“We want the truth.”

Gojo had also changed.

In just two months, Gojo has changed.

His soul was still beautiful, but the white glow that the angel once emanated had now been dyed by black rays from his stay in the underworld, characteristics that were forbidden to angels.

“The truth?”

You laughed and leaned your body on the desk, arms crossed, sparkling eyes showing that you feared nothing. After all, no one knew your little secret and Getou couldn't prove the authenticity of his words.

“The truth is that the devil betrayed me.”

Getou clenched his fists to contain his anger.

What right did you have to baptize him with such an unfortunate name again? What right did you have to tarnished an entire past of hope and light only to corrupt it with a single name. A single word. Devil. It should be a forbidden word, a swear word even –but you made that word so banal, so common, so feared.

“True. I once ate an apple without telling him.”

Getou's sigh was caught by the raise of your eyebrow. Had that been sarcasm? Had Getou acquired a new trait? You didn't remember him like that. You didn't remember at all. At least, that's what you would always say.

“You know perfectly well what you did. Don’t make me look bad and don’t deceive my subordinate.”

This time it was you who sighed and looked reproachfully at your best angel. “You should know that the devil’s words are tinged with wickedness.”

“Funny,” a hollow smile gently carved itself onto Getou's lips as he approached the office's bookshelf. “You used to like my words, YN.”

“YN?” Gojo looked at you with some confusion, the look you wore being worthy of the devil himself, intense anger burning in the pearls of your eyes, your lips pursed showing that words were being kept in your throat. “Is that your name?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Getou replied at the same time as you, his voice sounding louder than yours, the delicacy and false naivety of his response encouraging Gojo to look at him. “I was the one who gave them that name. Pretty cute, isn’t it?”

Getou's laugh installed silence in that office.

Getou sounded like you remembered, he sounded like you wanted to forget.

A single laugh.

Of everything Getou could do, he had to laugh, to make that sound you loved so much, to unlock memories you swore to forget. With what audacity? With what power had Getou laughed? With what tenderness?

“What do you really want, Getou?”

“Oh?”

Getou turned his heel to face you, eternities in the underworld making itself feel it in his words, in the provocation of his smile.

“I haven’t heard that name in ages! I see that the matter is serious.”

“I don’t have all eternity.”

“Very well,” Getou walked back to you, his arm gently resting on Gojo’s shoulder as he looked into your eyes. Your eyes met for eternal moments, an infinite amount of anguish and anger running through the eyes of both of you. “I want you to tell me word for word what I did to you to get me kicked out of here.”

Getou's lips were tinged with evil, a smile and words so perverse that you, for a moment, weakened. Getou wasn't the devil for nothing. But you took your position as god and moved away from the desk, eyes always fixed on Getou's, a figure always straight and tall. And, without any thought or regret, you made your voice loud and powerful, the entire room being filled with the belief of a betrayal, with a secret about to be revealed.

“You betrayed my trust by taking an interest in him.”

A simple gesture of the head was enough for Gojo to realize that he was the one you were referring to.

Getou had told Gojo about his last mission, how he knew Gojo was an angel when his disguise was spotless. Getou told how he had been the one to guide Gojo along the paths of kindness in his first life and how he had given decades of his existence to the study of ancient humans.

So it wasn't a complete surprise that Gojo heard the mention of his soul in the conversation –what really caught him off guard was how you had used his soul in the conversation. Gojo didn't remember any betrayal in Getou's story.

“So you're telling me that I, a former angel, the angel of all angels, shouldn't have helped a lost soul? I thought that was why you called us guardian angels.”

“You let him corrupt you.”

And that's when confusion set in Getou.

All his confidence, all his provocation dissipated when you pronounced those words so boringly, as if that story had already been told for an entire lifetime.

Another sigh was lost in the office when you reflected on Getou's face, in his confusion, and pain moved your remaining words: “You let his physical beauty entice you. You let his charms move you. You fell in love with Gojo.”

“No…”

“Yes.”

“No!”

Gojo trembled at Getou's roar, darkness coming out of his wings and flooding the entire office, staining all the purity there.

Gojo moved away from Getou.

Small drops of the devil's anger painted irregular patterns on his wings –and you remained quiet, showing your position with a firm and strong gaze.

“Where did that come from? How did you think I would be interested in a mere human? I was an angel!”

“A corrupt angel.”

“Do not forget that I am your fruit. If I am corrupt, so are you.”

Silence.

Darkness.

Anguish.

“How did you fall for his charms?”

You insisted on an unfounded truth, a simple rumor that wandered further than it should have. And Getou couldn't bear to hear his existence being defamed by the very soul that created him, anger giving way to disgust, anguish turning into suffering.

“I didn't fall for anyone! Gojo was just a human who needed help. You know that. Stop being blinded by rumors without any truth! Gojo needed clarity and comfort and I provided that. I was an angel. My job was to help.”

You didn't respond.

Gojo flapped his wings frantically in an attempt to loosen the darkness from his wings, all the angel's attention focused on his own vanity, forgetting what brought him to the celestial world prematurely.

But darkness prevailed in Gojo's soft, beautiful feathers –black and sticky, Getou's centuries of suffering and discrimination were spread across the office with the aggressive flapping of Gojo's wings, latching onto every purity and naivety and corrupting them until ashes.

“We spent eternities together. You were the one who created me. Do you really think I would be corrupted?”

“And you weren’t?”

You didn't know how to shut up. Since you are god, it was easy to lose the sense of humility in a conversation.

But you forgot that you were talking to the devil and, above all, you forgot that you were talking to Getou. In a new wave of anger and despair, anguish escaped Getou, crawling through the office door, staining with perversity all the goodness beyond the comfort of those four walls.

“Because of you! Because you sent me down there!”

Getou had spat out his words with hatred and disgust, piercing screams shaking an entire kingdom, Getou's pain being known to everyone. “You created me and I was loyal to you! I was always with you. I helped you create your empire. I loved you, YN!”

Getou's confession hit you with the last gust of wind provided by Gojo.

Dyeing you with the power of destruction created by Getou for centuries in the shadows of the universe, Gojo stopped fighting, allowing the softness of his wings to gain a new shine, a new essence, a new courage as they began to descend Gojo down the universe, sending him without any warning to the underworld.

Screams of anguish and terror flooded the corridors as all your betrayal consumed the various creatures, the unveiling of god's greatest secret bringing with it all the destruction you feared, all the destruction you knew Getou would bring to the entire universe.

And, with the suddenness of a confession, the entire celestial world ceased to exist.

With eyes fixed on your figure, Getou allowed his loneliness to take over the entire upper world.

Darkness and gloom haunted every corner of what was once pure light and goodness, no creature standing still to fight Getou, no soul remaining pure to stop him from consuming and corrupting everything his anguish touched.

And you remained silent, staring at Getou as you watched him conquer your entire kingdom, his confession still resonating loudly and vividly in your mind, everything around you becoming darkness and pain, just a mere reflection of the former sovereign's heart.

For, driven by betrayal, blinded by pain, enticed by revenge, Getou conquered all worlds and kingdoms, uniting all worlds and existences in his anguish and malice without any permission or request.

As you watched him burn with black flames all your creations, all the creations of the two of you, you slowly approached Getou, the use of that strong word still ringing so loudly within you.

Getou loved you.

You had been loved.

You had been loved by Getou.

But, even before you reached Getou, even before your hand managed to touch Getou's face one last time, like in the past, Getou denied your love.

With red eyes emanating revolt, with black wings falling off and leaving him as bare as his soul, Getou simply sent you to the former underworld, now an eternal prison for those who betrayed Getou.

For in that instant, in that moment after Getou unravel the truth, he emerged every world in his eternal suffering, no forgiveness on Getou's lips to be noted as he uttered his new name like a roaring storm. In that new world of Getou, in that new universe of his, Getou would show everyone why he was called the Devil.

#;jujutsu kaisen constellation;#getou x reader #geto x reader #getou x you #geto x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto oneshot #geto imagines #geto drabble #suguru geto x reader #gojo x geto

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foranpo · 7 months

Text

ੈ˚☆ when they love you the most.

fandom: genshin impact.

characters: childe, thoma, kaveh.

reader: gn!

genre: headcanons.

content: fluff.

word count: ~250 each // 700 total

ੈ♡˳────── enjoy the reading ♡ ──────

˚ʚ childe.

in the waves of moonlight, feeling your body next to his, after an exhausting day, not knowing how to react to the world —Childe loved you the most when everything that existed ceased to be and nothing but luminous darkness covered the entire vast horizon.

alone with you, comforted in small walls, wrapped in soft sheets, Childe loved you more when he stopped pretending. without any weight of the world on his shoulders, completely devoid of imaginary people that formed his being, Childe loved you when he was himself and only him.

truly Childe.

with the delicacy trapped in his touch and the neediness clinging to his gaze, Childe loved you with the grace of the end of the day, the tiredness of being so many without any rest holding his slurred, but always felt and vibrant, words.

an i love you. an i missed you. a just five more minutes.

small pleas escaped Childe's lips like prayers from the most devout of believers, all the anguish and uncertainty that commanded his body to dissipate when at home, comforted in small walls, wrapped in soft sheets, clinging to you.

ੈ♡˳─────────────────────

˚ʚ thoma.

in the insecurities of the future and the uncertainties of the present, bathed in the clarity of the sun and declaimed by the beauty of the flowers —Thoma loved you the most when everyone got tired of you and threw you to the ground, over and over again, without any warning.

entire afternoons seemed short when you felt Thoma's embrace. small poems were quoted between murmurs, songs from the most famous poets finding a melody between Thoma's soft lips.

whenever and every time the whole world fell on you, whenever and every time the whole world decided to test your strength, Thoma was there for you, reminding you why he didn't let go, etching it into your memory with colors of love and affection that him, and always him, would be a word away from you.

tranquility and peace. among all the chaos, Thoma existed.

it didn't exist just for you, but for your relationship; patience and understanding fled from Thoma's fingertips, outlining drawings of strength and encouragement, writing memories of love on your soft skin.

always calm, always smiling, Thoma loved you.

he just loved you. there was no other way to say it, as there was no other way to feel it: pure passion burned Thoma's heart, using the lava that flowed inside him to build permanent fortifications of love and tenderness in your hands every time he caressed you between poems of tomorrow and sonnets of your conquests;

extreme devotion squeezed Thoma's heart, letting the line that hung from him escape through his lips in all the light, graceful, affectionate kisses that he gave you in all the memories of who you are and who you once were.

when everyone gave up on you, Thoma was by your side. always and forever with you.

ੈ♡˳─────────────────────

˚ʚ kaveh.

between dusty pages and lit candles, sweet with the certainty of a future —Kaveh loved you the most when a new shine appeared in your eyes.

your curiosity lit up your face every time happiness clench to your heart, leading you to question what else you could love, what else you could do.

and Kaveh clung to all your smiles.

admiring you from afar, always fearing to share your happiness, totally nervous about destroying your passion, Kaveh allowed your entire existence to strongly paint his heart with warmer, more passionate tones.

all because you discovered a new passion, a new goal.

how beautiful it was to see you grow, become the wonderful person who inspires each of Kaveh's creations; between smiles and looks, words and memories, your entire essence rained down stardust that stuck to Kaveh's notebooks, forcing him to draw, to create, for you.

for your courage to start something new when no one expected anything from you; for your resilience in continuing when the world knocked you down —Kaveh admired you, but, above all, he loved you. yesterday and today. in a tomorrow awaited by you, in a future carved by both of you, Kaveh loved you, for all eternity.

ੈ♡˳───── feedback is appreciated ♡ ─────

#;genshin impact constellation;#childe x reader #childe headcanons #thoma x reader #thoma headcanons #kaveh x reader #kaveh headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons

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foranpo · 8 months

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ੈ˚★ the shock of reality.

@pistoletrose asked: Hello love <3 I just discovered your blog and instantly fell in love with your BDS headcanons, they were written so beautifully my words don't do justice fr. if this is okay can i request something? Scenario: Akutagawa getting recruited by PM fem reader (instead of Dazai) She is not as harsh, genuinenly treats him with care, thus shaping him into someone not as bitter and also making him fall for her romantically. Really hope you'd accept my request and if not, totally fine <;3 much love

fandom: b.s.dogs.

character: akutagawa.

reader: gn!

genre: drabble.

content: alcohol, reverse comfort, fluff.

word count: 970.

cole’s note: i hope you like it! thank you for requesting <3

ੈ♡˳────── enjoy the reading ♡ ──────

On that hot summer night, none of you could guess what future was written in your stars.

“Hey, Aku…” your voice left your mouth in a hoarse whisper, soaked by the alcohol you held in the glass.

Akutagawa looked at you. Yearning for you to continue, Akutagawa placed his glass, still full, on the counter and waited; letting the sounds of the bar invade his ears, Akutagawa patiently waited for your voice to stand out among all the noise in the background, soothing his ears, calming his anxious heart.

You took another sip of the acidic drink you had in the glass, letting it burn your throat and set fire to the words that screamed to come out. When your stomach felt comforted by the false relieve of the alcohol, you placed the empty glass on the counter and faced Akutagawa.

“When you met me… Did you imagine we would get here?”

Of all the simulations that took place in Akutagawa's mind in that small space of seconds, the words that came out of you were not included in his calculations. You shocked him. Without any mercy.

“Here…?”

“Hm…” a pause, a request for a new drink, a nervousness growing in Akutagawa. “Our partnership. Do you think it would reach this level?”

“Level of…?”

You snorted, a little tired of all the slowness of Akutagawa, a little frustrated with the alcohol's difficulty in cheering you up.

It was a simple question, something extremely basic that could be answered in a matter of seconds –and Akutagawa simply lengthened it, taking the syllables of the question and dragging it out with intonations that were too interrogative to be declared answers.

Answers.

Answer.

What answer?

Yes, you managed to gain the courage to interrogate Akutagawa with that little question that had settled in the back of your head; but the confidence one gains from the alcoholic elixir is quickly stripped away by the reality of the answer. An answer that you didn't have yet. An answer that made you nervous.

“When I met you, I couldn’t imagine myself beyond that month.”

Akutagawa responded in a long whisper, finally rejecting the drink you had offered him at the beginning of the night, always looking down. Without looking at you. Without ever looking at you –that was Akutagawa.

“How so?”

You turned your body in the chair and looked at him, searching your partner's nervous posture for any hint that could decipher the enigma that was Akutagawa.

“I thought they wanted me dead.”

“Who…”

“The Mafia. That they wanted to get rid of me.”

“Why would you think that?”

And there it was, the shock of reality capable of lifting those who had luxuriated in a bed made of strong, cold drinks.

“Because I wasn’t good enough. Not at first, I mean” you looked at Akutagawa in confusion, the same expression as always on his face: indifference. There wasn't a single expression in Akutagawa, not since you met him, in those woods, alone, afraid, without any hope of existing. “Before we were partners.”

“Aku… I came to you because I believed in your potential.”

Your drink has somehow found the clean surface of the counter, your hands now resting gently on your companion's arms. “Do you really believe I would recruit you if you weren’t good enough?”

“But I failed. Several times.”

“In training,” you let out a small heartfelt laugh that was quickly caught by Akutagawa’s ears; it seemed like you were enticing him, instigating your partner's curiosity –after all, what was so funny?

And Akutagawa looked at you. Seduced by your laugh, totally fascinated by the faint melody you created in the middle of that conversation, Akutagawa looked at you. And you were smiling. Waiting for Akutagawa, waiting for his look, you were smiling.

“You never failed me on missions. That’s why I chose you to be my partner.”

Akutagawa was ready to refuse your speech, gently shaking his head before looking down again, feeling your hands slide down his arms and grabbing his hands.

A new pause, a request for serenity in his heart, a nervousness growing in you.

“I have always been proud of your work. Of you.”

And there it was, the shock of reality capable of accommodating those who never believed in themselves. The words that Akutagawa swore he would never hear in his life, much less from you, were pronounced with the sweetness of your voice, soaked in a strong acid that still remained on the tips of your lips –but, even manipulated by alcohol, the words never stopped being said, being felt, by his partner, by you.

“It’s not your mistakes that define you,” you caressed Akutagawa’s palm, him shrinking even more to divert all the attention from his eyes red with joy. “Your successes are saved in your record. And I couldn't be happier for you. You've come so far. You did so much…”

A hiccup.

Your speech was interrupted by a sob from Akutagawa. Something involuntary, in reality, but it was still audible to you, and your smile never left your face.

You stood up quickly, bringing your body closer to Akutagawa's, and, without any warning or permission, you held his face and laid it on your chest, stifling the waves of sobs that invaded Akutagawa, hiding his red face from everyone.

A safe haven. In the midst of all that reality, that chaos, a response to Akutagawa's insecurity.

And he grabbed your shirt. Squeezing it with all his strength, crushing the chaste fabric, Akutagawa used your shirt to muffle the screams that wanted to come out of him, the joy, the satisfaction, the delight of being seen, of being noticed, burning his throat, the sobs dying at your words, the crying intensifying with your confirmation.

“I’m proud of you and your entire journey.”

ੈ♡˳───── feedback is appreciated ♡ ─────

#;bungou stray dogs constellation;#akutagawa fluff #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa bsd #akutagawa x you #akutagawa x y/n #akutagawa drabbles #akutagawa imagines #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd x you

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foranpo · 9 months

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thinking about no-magic!reader x laxus during a storm and him lending reader his coat but forgetting it's heavy as hell so reader disappears under it and laxus starts to panic

#man i miss fairy tail #once i'm free might write for it #it was the high of my creative story ngl #so yea <33 #;starlight;#fairy tail x reader #laxus x reader

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foranpo · 9 months

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ੈ˚ʚ welcome to my notion tutorial !!

♡ my notion took me a month to make. It's a bit frustrating sometimes, but i want you to know that it's possible to have some organization in your life.

notion is meant to help you have a more organized life: trackers, goals, diary entries, anything can be turn into a notion page and i'm here to teach you how ♡

ps: sorry for being so long and with some typos and whatnot ♡

♡˳────── 1st step: the choice of an aesthetic.

it's important to have an idea when you start your notion;

for me, i wanted a place cozy and warm that reminded me of spring.

my main color is green. and with that defined, i started looking for color palettes with the types of green that i liked the most.

(i used this website, but any is good enough. it's just to give you an idea of what you're going to work with.)

i chose an aesthetic more gloomy, academic, and obviously green, (for my main layout, a retro blue-ish layout for my fanfics and a melancholy yellow for my original works) and with that i jumped to step 2.

♡˳────── 2nd step: hunting images and inspiration.

pinterest, pinterest, pinterest.

i can't stress this enough. use keywords to find what you actually need.

if you're a beginner, start with notion inspo, notion [aesthetic] ideas, anything notion related. pick your favs and choose what you like most about each one:

the font, the pictures, the layout, even a small detail like an aesthetic quote design -just make sure you know what you like the most.

once you have a list of what you want, you start searching for images.

keywords i suggest is: [color] aesthetic, [color] cinematography, [color] photography, and, especially, [color] png icon.

i find it really satisfying having pngs on your notion: it gives a better sense of home and they cute, so it's a plus!

(most png aren't transperants on pinterest, so i use this app to make it a real png. now, know that it's not perfect and on dark mode might look funky, but it's worth a shot ig ♡)

now you should be left with a small gallery of photos with the same color scheme and this takes us to step 3!

♡˳────── 3rd step: dividers save lives.

pick one image to be the base of your notion layout.

it might be for your notion icon, header, or just a random pic laying around your notion. but make sure you only have one.

with that, go to an app that finds colors (i use this one) and pick the 3 most predominant colors! i suggest one darker, one lighter, and one in between.

this works not only as dividers but to enhance any quote or pic that you have. e.g.:

as you can see, this little dividers (size that i use: 948x8) work better than the ones provided by notion and they're easy to make. just open paint and you're done!

and once you have all the inspo, all the pics and dividers, it's time to create some art ♡

♡˳────── 4th step: the creation of art.

is time to make pages and more pages.

now, please know that this requires lots of work, frustation and patience. sometimes the website doesn't want to collaborate and it might get a bit annoying. but know that it's totally fine to take breaks and take your time. this is something for you and you only.

you can take all the time you want ♡

ㅤㅤ♡˳────── 4.1 step: page outline.

choose the number of pages !

i suggest you have one homepage with quick links to your other pages:

trackers, school related, hobbies, anything really.

it's your notion after all, you can do anything.

after having the number of pages you can star outlining the pages.

the beginning is always difficult and embaracing, but if you give it a try, i'm sure you will create art!

i suggest, if you do a full page, to use 4 to 6 columns. it might be a bit overwhelming at the start, but i found it easier to work with more columns and less rows. also, it's more compact which makes everything x3254 cuter.

nut you can literally do whatever you want! so here's my organization ♡

my personal organization !

homepage (5-6 columns, 4 rows): quick links to my other 4 pages. daily routine. quick reading and writing trackers. my performances schedules and feedback. goals for the month. clock, weather, year progress bar (see end of post).

original works (4-6 columns, 2 rows): my three wips. websites that help me with writing. my progress in each work. motivational quotes.

fanfic works (4 columns): folders for each fandom with more folders for hcs, one-shots, multi-chapter and ideas. motivational quotes. goals for the year. pretty pics and quotes.

trackers (5-6 columns, 4-5 rows): media that i'm currently consuming or consumed, with details such as rating, author, and some sub-pages with my extensive thoughts.

bookstagram (6 columns): goals and soft reminders, filters inspo and my personal reviews and thoughts to publish.

in short !

have one big page at the beginning to help you navigate easier.

don't be afraid to had columns and rows! if there's a blank space, throw some png's and quotes at it. it always makes everything 10x cuter.

ㅤㅤ♡˳────── 4.2 step: widgets are your best friends.

add some widgets to make it prettier ♡

i use this website. it's pretty easy and has the main widgets.

a quick google search might take you to other websites so feel free to explore ♡

♡˳────── 5th step: a touch of magic and stardust.

the start of a new page is always frustating: what aesthetic to use? what do you put first? what if it's corny? too much quotes? so many questions and, hey!, i hear ya! it's a pain in the ass.

that's why i'm here to tell you that you will change your layout lot's of time. even if you have already in mind what you have, it's only normal to change stuff every now and then until you have the perfect page.

e.g.:

you can see how my first homepage (pic. 1) changed dratically for my current homepage (pic.2). not only the color scheme changed, but the layout itself.

more artistic pictures, cuter png's and quotes, and my homepage changed completely!

so don't be afraid of change! it is important fr ♡

♡˳────── don't forget about...

you can change the font and size of the page by clicking on the three dots on the top right of your screen ♡

make your text pretty with cool symbols !!

again, just surf the internet and tumblr and i'm sure that aesthetic bios will provide you with the cute little symbols to make everything cute ♡

be creative with your picture layouts ! ♡

i personally use pinterest (frame template) and clipstudio to make prettier pictures, but i'm sure any photoshop app can give you this effect as well.

play with png's and make your notion look more alive ♡

any hanging or 2 png's similar can help with a look cleaner and more organized.

add spotify playlist (it had to be public, i'm afraid) and youtube videos for more diversity!

table view is a life changer for oranizing trackers, especially books and movies ♡

let me know if you want a deeper tutorial on how to use any function or if i forgot mentioning something you would like to know more about ♡

i hope this helps you and it's clear. know that i'm here for anything you need and i'm sure you're gonna do amazing things there ♡

#;cole's notion;#notion #notion inspo #notion ideas #notion tutorial #notion tut

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foranpo · 9 months

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ੈ˚☆ jujutsu kaisen characters as specific colors.

fandom: jujutsu kaisen.

characters: gojo, geto, itadori.

reader: gn!

genre: headcanons.

word count: ~280 each // 850 total

cole's note: had another 2 characters for this but couldn't bring myself writing it so who knows maybe part 2? oh well ♡

ੈ♡˳────── enjoy the reading ♡ ──────

˚ʚ gojo satoru.

The melancholy yellow of an early Sunday morning in winter.

Everything stopped. In Gojo's being, there was nothing; nothing but a great void that corrupted him with the ease with which the world changes seasons. All the emptiness, all the nothingness that existed inside Gojo was suffocating, of a tremendous thickness that consumed him every time he woke up, every time he decided to exist.

Beyond his beautiful eyes, hidden behind the glasses and headband that masked the melancholy he lived in, Gojo existed. Vulnerable, full of nostalgic memories and outdated hopes, Gojo allowed himself to exist only in front of you, only in your comfort.

For, beyond the beauty of Gojo, far from seductive looks and empty words, hidden in a corridor of promises and desires, there was someone. A soul that stopped being Gojo to be just Satoru –in your comfort, in your peace, in your presence. Nothing prevented him from feeling, from existing. Allowing melancholy to wrap him in a mantle of fragility, letting it embrace him in a hug of uncertainty and helplessness, Gojo felt everything.

All the memories that weighed on his shoulders and forced him to walk more hunched over; all the words he wished he'd said and now overused among his loved ones; whatever was, became, and Gojo was still, motionless, vulnerable.

With you and only you. All his energy was drained, too tired to get it back, too lazy to get more. It was as if a sun of coziness, laziness, comfort –of everything he wanted most– embraced him in words and caresses.

All because you, divinity of hope and future, allowed Gojo to choose you to be the winter sun of all eternity that will exist.

ੈ♡˳─────────────────────

˚ʚ geto suguru.

The soft pink of a late summer beach sunset.

Like a sea breeze, carrying laughter and ephemeral promises, Geto accepted to exist. Light and cautious, making gentle waves in your heart, Geto let all the wickedness in the world tuck away in his pocket, focusing on nothing but the joy, the magic, the happiness of that moment.

Geto didn't like to think about the possibilities existing in so many galaxies and stars –instead, Geto preferred to be with you, in that moment, in that precise second of minutes gone by. Only the present and the past were allowed to exist to Geto.

The happiness of someone who found a new color, the curiosity of someone who decided to count stars –Geto was like that. Helpless and kind. A little childish in his words, quite adult in his fears, but always and completely himself. Suguru Geto. The one who let the constellations tell him stories, always enchanted by the celestial light, always wishing, almost chronically, to be part of something so beautiful.

It was an unusual hope that lived in Geto; not of a better future or an acceptable present, but of a fulfilled life. A life filled with remorse and regret, but still beautiful. Beautiful for taking memories of eternal loves and divine words; beautiful for having his soul complete when with you, always willing to give more of himself to you. Always for you.

A life lived for you. Your security. Your happiness. You. The most beautiful presence in this world, the most magical essence that ever existed. You and only you. The ink that painted the picture that was Geto, letting him choose all the colors but only abusing the comfortable pink and the hopeful purple.

ੈ♡˳─────────────────────

˚ʚ itadori yuji.

The weary green of moss that consumes what were once proofs of great empires.

Itadori was persistent. Since always, Itadori's greatest characteristic was not knowing how to give up. Defect or quality was only decided by time; but for you, before you, Itadori was fascinating. Endowed with an energy of his own, which spread around his surroundings like a fungus in times of humidity, Itadori was, and always will be, the magic of this world.

A small ball of joy and hope was born inside you every time Itadori took time out of his life to spend it with you; it was like a switch was turned on you and you couldn't see anything but the beauty he brought with him. All the ruins of your heart, all the wreckage of your soul were embellished by Itadori's presence, pasting every little piece of you with patience, delicacy, love.

It seemed like he was always on the run, that it was his mission to paint pictures of dreams and hopes in people's lives, but especially yours. There wasn't a day of rest, grabbing brushes and pencils, colorful words blessing your ears followed by the lively laughs of those who love – and truly love.

A relief, a cure. Itadori never stopped growing, expanding his kind essence in this cruel world, never resting for a moment. Even with you. Especially with you. For you, owner of all Itadori's joy and bearer of his most ambitious dreams, deserved nothing more than temples built to venerate and beautify you. You, your heart, your soul –and Itadori always insisted on being your painter, without ever wanting, or being able, to rest.

ੈ♡˳───── feedback is appreciated ♡ ─────

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foranpo · 9 months

Text

ੈ˚★ One thousand seven hundred and ninety-three.

@coolminahi asked: Hello! Can you do a Itachi x reader soulmate AU of the reader having the same backstory as Maki Zenin where she also kills her own clan??

fandom: naruto.

character: itachi.

reader: gn!

genre: drabble.

au: soulmate!

content: angst, jjk manga spoilers, mention of blood and death, open ending.

word count: 3k.

cole’s note: i know it took me forever but i hope the wait was worth it :' ty for the request and enjoy <3

ੈ♡˳────── enjoy the reading ♡ ──────

Humans were exhausting.

Living for entire eternities, seeing the birth of all stars and the demise of all empires, the gods agreed that, among so many creatures and souls that roamed through vast space, the human being was, in fact, the most tiresome: happiness was a foreign term to them, as they preferred to live comfortably in their own chosen miseries and difficulties; complaints hung from their lips like the juice of the ripest fruit in the hottest summer; the impossibility of satisfying so many prayers and requests driving the gods mad for so long that the deities' vacations were extended over long periods, leading to more complaints, more sorrows, more miseries, more requests, more prayers, more noise.

And it was so much noise that human beings created –they were never satisfied with anything. They only served to tire, to exhaust the gods.

As such, measures were taken.

The most common requests, prayers and desires that floated the most through the universe were, for some reason, the search for true love. Perhaps because they are constantly surrounded by the negativity brought by their melancholy hearts, human beings realized that there was an extreme need for comfort that they refused to themselves; an affection, a delicacy, a promise that, regardless of the passage of time, would alleviate difficulties, miseries, sadness and complaints. Maybe they just wanted certainty for all the suffering they were immersed in: one person, one love, one life.

Therefore, a new system of soulmates was created.

The gods were the only ones who could see people's nature, the only ones who could guide the same souls to one last meeting in that life, before leaving for the next one; as such, it was pretty easy to figure out which stardust went together and when they should be together –after all, it all comes down to timing. For though two souls roamed the same world, the same life, for years, they could only come together at the right moment, or misfortunes followed the souls, like plagues clinging to the weakest of creatures.

Thus, the number system was conceived by the gods two eternities ago.

However, Itachi didn't care much about soulmates or relationships in general. With so many events taking place around him, it was a little tricky for Itachi to take the time to look for meaning in the random numbers in his hand; not that he paid much attention to his numbers, their appearance piqued any interest in him.

Itachi only had one thing in mind, and he wasn't going to be distracted by such trifles as eternal love dictated by the gods –not least because none of that would make sense, not when Itachi's destiny was already mapped out for himself.

For, Itachi learned to change his way of thinking with you.

Although your presence in Itachi's life was short, just two years of brief encounters wrapped in long silences that briefly soothed your souls, the reality is that, in a way, you managed to help Itachi change his mind. Small words, speeches coming from your heart when the stars were more hidden, poems being recited by your lips, plans and ideas written by the gods gaining colossal dimension when proclaimed by you.

In reality, Itachi believed that it was the gods themselves who created you. There was a certain mystique in your soul, a deep sea of magic and stardust that gently danced through your veins, creating worlds and fantasies in your words. You looked ethereal, totally out of that world, almost perfectly sculpted by the hands of the most talented craftsmen, not just in your figure, in the imperfections that became so enchanting when embellished by the moon, but also in your mind.

“Do you think we are soulmates?”

You had Itachi's hand in yours, the number one thousand seven hundred and ninety-three repeating itself in your hand. The same number. The same location. The same apparition. The same soulmate.

“Do you want to be my soul mate?”

Itachi didn't remove his hand from yours, the heat of your body softening a little the cold that was felt that late afternoon, your touch, even so gentle, managing to comfort him for brief moments in that painful day.

You didn't answer.

Your hand returned to rest in your lap with the grace of that day's wind, Itachi's hand resting momentarily in the icy air that surrounded you. You were silent for a moment, admiring the forest that surrounded you, enjoying that moment of serenity for a little while longer. Finally, a little peace in the middle of your chaotic life.

Itachi wasn't too bothered by your lack of response; having been your friend for two years, Itachi began to get used to your small gestures and mannerisms –all your actions were already part of Itachi's daily life without any resentment being stored in his heart. Itachi knew that, if you didn't answer, you who so loved to give your opinion and unique point of view, it was because you had a reason; as such, he knew he shouldn't pressure you –instead, Itachi preferred the unknown of the forest, trying to see in its shadows something alive, trying to understand if in the midst of all that immensity of trees and bushes, there was something that would allow him to call that woods home.

“What do you think it means?”

Itachi couldn't decipher your words that day. You were different. Your voice was more distant, your timbre somewhat similar to that wind so cold, so rough. For some reason, your warm and welcoming nature had faded that day, cold gray tones painting your soul, leaving Itachi worried, yes, but also curious. It was the first time he saw you without your characteristic light. It was intriguing. You were intriguing.

“The numbers?” you looked at Itachi and nodded, your throat too raw from the outside to manage a single word. “The days it took to fall in love with each other?”

You shook your head.

You knew it wasn't something as simple, as delineated as that. The gods were tired of humans, fed up with their empty words and corrupt actions. It was obvious that they were going to be dishonest, creating numbers for the most insignificant things that could exist.

“My parents had the number two. The number of bowls of soup my mom was going to eat on their first date,” you took a deep breath and let your head rest on Itachi's shoulder. “Do you really think it would be something that simple?”

This time, it was Itachi who didn't respond.

You were right. There was no simplicity when it came to the gods, much less when the paths of love and passion were present. He didn't know why you guys got that number, or why it was such a big number, but it didn't matter to Itachi. Relationships weren't in his plans.

“Do you think we will be happy?”

Your question caught Itachi off guard, your apprehension tangling in the turf that held you so carefully, your fear lingering between you as if enveloping you in a small cloud of discomfort, worry, uncertainty. Your voice sounded low, slurred, almost corrupting the beauty of nature, as if wanting to change reality –you wanted to erase that number from your hands, from your lives.

But Itachi was left pondering your question, ignoring the intonation with which it was used, pondering with all his head and mind on that simple question.

Would you be happy?

ੈ♡˳─────────────────────

It was a full moon night when the river was dyed red.

In the middle of the forest, hidden among the thickest trees and protected by the most poisonous bushes, your clan's screams of agony and rage settled in the withered flowers of late summer. One after another, you saw those with whom you shared the same blood fall before you, defeated by your talent, victims of years of contempt and dissatisfaction.

You used to be tired. That night, you were completely exhausted.

As your footsteps echoed off the fragile walls of your parent's home, new screams were chanted towards you, intense symphonies of hate and revulsion harmonizing with the sound of your blade in their bodies.

Too much time had passed where you allowed hundreds of people to use and abuse their power, flooding your heart with the anguish and disgust you felt for each and every one of them. Despised men who lived too long under the protection of their village superiors knew nothing of real life and all that went on outside their fortress of flowers and shrubs; but you knew.

From an early age you were used as your clan's deity, used as a weapon of war by all who needed to make someone pay, discarded when all happiness, all hope, had been usurped from you like someone who takes a life.

One?...

Two…

Three?

No.

Four.

You were sure there were four. Four dozen lives subjugated to your talent and strength of mind that night, all convinced that they could stop you, all convinced that your impure blood would be spilled that night.

But when the clouds began to cover the bright moon that night, you couldn't hide the laughter that had been stuck in your throat since that massacre began –after all, how could four dozen people be completely wrong?

Hot-faced, splattered with the sin you had just committed, not a single red drop containing a fraction of regret, you left your clan's villa accompanied by the sounds of the night.

Nothing but the running stream. Nothing but the gentle summer breeze. Nothing but peace and quiet.

Finally, peace and quiet.

You let yourself be guided by the adrenaline that was still running through your body, wandering without any conscience through your clan's forest, through your forest. The sounds of the night were mesmerizing, cradling your weary footprints, moving with the stagger of your exhausted body; the aroma of your massacre was camouflaged by the sweet and refreshing scent of the bushes that served as a border with the real world.

And, even before another red drop fell into your hands, you crossed that invisible barrier with the lightest heart and the heaviest soul.

You couldn't tell exactly how much time had passed. In a way, everything had plunged into a paralyzing sea of suspense and calm, a confused mix of emotions toppling your fragile heart. Yes, it was true that you didn't feel the least bit sorry for your actions, after all, all your family members had died for you from the moment they used a five-year-old you to manage to win an insignificant battle between clans; but, for some reason, you couldn't help feeling a certain bitterness in your mouth, an immense weight that you felt only in your soul, pulling you down, trapping your steps, forcing you to collapse in the middle of a field of grass and moonlight.

Your knees hit the uneven ground hard, the tenderness of the grass refusing to support your collapse –anyway, you had to pay for your sins, the grass refusing your comfort would only just be the beginning.

“Another mission?”

Itachi.

It was Itachi's voice.

You were sure it was his voice.

You looked around, lost in that open space that was the scene of your encounters with Itachi so many times; but you saw nothing in the midst of the blood that covered your face, your eyes starting to burn –perhaps because of the drop that had fallen into them, perhaps because of the realization that you were now alone. Without family. Without any friends. Without a home.

“I don't know how to comfort you.”

Itachi's voice continued to echo in the open, carried by the wind and by the moon; words of comfort were woven by Itachi's lips in a sympathetic memory in you, your heart desperately looking for something that would ease all that turmoil that existed inside you.

And it was Itachi who heard your inner prayers.

Among so many destructive memories that formed tragic galleries inside you, there was always an exhibition dedicated to the happiness and comfort you found with Itachi. All gestures made by him, all conversations and ideas exchanged with him, all small seconds were trapped in a wide corridor inside you, overshadowing all the agonizing pictures offered by your family.

Itachi was a small happiness inside you, a small hope, a small life you were looking forward to living.

“And before you ask, no. The nightmares never go away.”

That’s right.

Now you understand where Itachi's voice came from.

It wasn't on your side or on top of you. It wasn't hiding among the branches of the nearest trees, or admiring the beautiful sky that night. None of that. That voice of Itachi was inside you. Emerging from the corridor you specially guard for him. It was a forced memory. It was a hazy memory. But it was a real memory, a memory that broke your fall when all your strength gave up.

Fallen on the grass, staining nature's hope of one day being as beautiful as the gods, you no longer struggled against your tiredness.

“But I will always be here. And you know that I understand you. Always."

Always.

Your lips formed a faint smile as your eyes became too heavy to keep them open, closing them slowly,, carefully,,, serenely…

Always.

Seeing the grass of that meadow swaying in the wind, Itachi's words stopped resonating inside your heart, wandering through the forest in the hope of being able to comfort another soul that needed the warmth that only Itachi could give, that only Itachi could give you.

Always.

Al…yas…

Al…

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Human were dark.

Existing since the creation of the universe, never in the existence of the gods was heard of an event as impure and grotesque as the night of the full moon at the end of your summer. Rumors spread about the events of that night, theories of how a new cult was emerging in that world of peace, making the younger ones shudder; no one knew who told the first lie, the second rumor sounding so natural to all the bakers that, by the time the teachers and nurses found out about the event, the moon was already wearing a new autumn outfit.

It was all macabre; all the details involving the two occurrences seemed taken from the darkest book of the god of war. It was all disgusting; the amount of screams that still echoed through the floors of the houses, all the red of lives lost staining every nook and cranny of the most respected neighborhoods.

“How long has it been?”

Your hands caressed the dry autumn grass. The icy night wind ruined all the hopes of the trees, abruptly uprooting all their beauty, creating colorful walkways in that dry and forgotten meadow.

Itachi was at your side, admiring the thick clouds of ancient anguishes, searching in all that darkness for a little light that would be more persistent than the great and forgotten moon.

“Not long enough.”

The sigh of Itachi's words was trapped in the bare branches of the trees, preventing your meeting from being shown to others, giving you a little privacy in that world so noisy, so busy, so changed.

You pulled your legs towards you and sought comfort in them. Your arms wrapped around the fabric of your pants, your face being partially sheltered from the wind by your legs, your tired, heavy, empty gaze, staring at nothing more than the nothingness that stretched before you.

“Will they ever stop?” Itachi looked at you, your eyes red with the sadness of a macabre past embellished by a moon full of red and anguish. “The nightmares. Will they ever stop?”

“No.”

It was what you liked most about Itachi: his honesty; but that night, so many years after your outbreak, so many years after that bloodbath, that honesty of Itachi hurt you. Not because of its sincerity, but because of its truthfulness.

You would always have those nightmares.

“Do you regretted it?” You looked at Itachi, his eyes curious with your answer, trying to decipher what was in your soul to, at least, try to appease your heart. “Of what you did that night. Do you regretted it?”

“No.”

It was what Itachi liked most about you: your conviction; but that night, so many years after your last meeting, so many years after that promise broken by Itachi, that conviction of yours was suspect. Not because of your honesty, but because of your anguish.

“You didn’t come when I called you.”

“Couldn't make it.”

Itachi was always honest, always using his quiet, low words to convey worlds of truth. He was always honest with you, a quality he came to find helpful in creating a friendship with you.

As such, you just uttered a small “Ah” that was carried by the wind to unknown lands, taking your doubt to places already forgotten by you.

A new silence settled between you, your eyes reminding your hearts of how the other was –so many years had passed and Itachi was still the same; more tired maybe, and a little lonelier too, and utterly broken inside.

You didn't know from him. Somehow, perhaps through a delay in the chronology of the stars, or misled by the wickedness of the gods, you did not hear it from him. You just heard it on the street, small rumors floating through all the streets and alleys where you took refuge from the injustice of your village.

“Is it true?”

“Yes.”

Itachi's confirmation sounded strange in his mouth and refused to settle in your ears, in your heart. He, who loved his family so much, he who bragged so much about his relatives, he who lived with an exemplary family, used the same brush as you and painted his own walls red; but Itachi's red, that which covered the Uchiha's neighborhood, was not the red of betrayal and injustice that you wore –no. The red he'd chosen was one of surprise and despair –not his, but everyone else's.

“Why?”

“Was necessary.”

You nodded and, almost fearfully, reached for Itachi's cool hand. Would he refuse you? Would he let your immoral pasts allow it to come together in a gesture so casual, so normal, so ordinary between you? Was the blood on your hands dry, now that you had finally met again after long years without farewell or warning? Was the blood on your hands already clean of all evil, now that the two of you were once again close to each other?

“One thousand seven hundred and ninety-three.”

Itachi let your icy fingers remember the softness of his hand, your fingers ever so lightly caressing the lines of Itachi's palm, creating little paths of nostalgia and innocence in his hand.

The life line: short, a little tenuous and with only one major interruption.

“One thousand…”

The mind line: curved, quite bumpy, with some flaws.

“Seven hundred…”

The heart line: lightly painted on his hand, shorter than you'd like to admit, but flawless.

“And ninety…”

The fate line: invisible, already a victim of time and consequences that followed Itachi's actions.

“Three…”

Itachi had his eyes closed, letting the caresses you made on the lines of his palm, together with your delicate memory of the number he had seen too many times, lull him into a land of never forgotten reminiscences shared with you.

The silence was cozy as you let your palm know Itachi's magical lines, his fingers closing over your hand, starting a timeless knot that was ready to last for eternities.

And you also closed your fingers, the wind stopping the suddenness of your actions, too nauseated by your union between misfortunes, wanting to leave you in peace, quiet amidst the static weather of that night, in the meadow that had always been yours.

ੈ♡˳───── feedback is appreciated ♡ ─────

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