|| Choices // 02

genre heavy angst + unrequited love

pairing Gojo Satoru/Reader

↳ Choices we’re bound to make in life don’t always turn out well, and you would have to learn that the hard way, maybe should you have listened to your sister when she tried to dissuade you from marrying a man that you didn’t know, as charming as he might seem.

masterlist⇥part three

You were never much of a sleeper. In all honesty, you usually slept for about four to five hours per night at best. Your mother often teased you by saying it was because of you and all the lights you turned on on your way, that all the nightingales would start singing in the morning. Maybe it was because you always considered the unconscious state of sleep as a way to turn your back to reality, bypassing daily rationalism in favor of a utopian loophole. A world where all that was needed was to want something strongly enough for it to materialize, a world where we’d see our worst torments disappear, a world where fear, hate and disarray would be blown away by the sole strength of willpower. A world where we had control over our choices. Which, let’s be honest, wasn’t really your case.

So for the first time since ages, you gave yourself the right to sleep a little bit longer than usual, your body finally giving out under the weight of a night’s worth of tears and incessant questionings. Your body had probably understood that your subconscious was, now, the only place where your mind could rest, the only place where a modicum of safety was left.

You dreamt of all sorts of things, things that you’ll probably never get to taste again. Kyoto, its streets and its odors. You dreamt of long walks that you made sporadically with your father, whenever the weather would allow it. You dreamt of cherry trees which you admired every year, in front of which your inner child came out every time. You couldn’t help yourself from taking a picture beside them, your mother would always point out how the shades of the roses perfectly matched with your carnation. You also dreamt of numerous matcha desserts that you’d buy on your way home, and sometimes tried to hide away…You didn’t know it at the time, but your mother always noticed the little green powder around your lips, but only teased your father until he felt the unbearable desire to go and buy some, so to make the whole family enjoy it. You dreamt of your school as well, of certain good memories, you dreamt of the school exchange, those times when you went to Tokyo as part of the association. You replayed the trips, the long discussions with Naoya, as rare and precious as they were to your eyes. You learnt to put up with his nasty misogynistic and egocentric temper; you even reached the point where you wondered how you could even survive without being reminded that you belong in a beautiful and well furnished kitchen. And then, you saw your hangman again, gaze hidden by a pair of black lenses.

Now that you thought of it, you were never able to see that famous six eyes. Even so, you’d have all your life to carve it in your memory, hoping that your soul would come out of it unscathed. You suddenly saw him get closer to you until his hand landed on your shoulder, a move that pulled you out of your inertia in one jump.
You looked around you, the clock on the table showed an unholy afternoon hour. You sighed while loosening your shoulders, letting go of some stress that had accumulated within you. You softly ran your hands over your face, covering your eyes as best as you could from the sun rays that entered through your blinds. You had absolutely no desire of moving out of bed, but so many things awaited you, after all, life goes on.

You swept a brief look over your phone, a consequent number of phone calls from unknown numbers caught your attention, however you didn’t give it much thought since you never answered numbers you didn’t recognize. Also, if it were really that urgent, they’d just send you a message. Which wasn’t the case, so there was no need to rack your brain more than that.
You put a leg, soon followed by its homologue, on the cold floor of your room. Your eyes, still half asleep, didn’t seem to perceive much of the surroundings anymore. The colors, until now warm, of your walls seemed a bit somber and cold, and the sky crumbs that peeked through the cracks of your shutters, were grey as though emptied of the life that always animated them. What did you look like? Nothing decent anymore, whispers a voice. And just a quick glance in the mirror was enough to confirm it. Your hair, usually disciplined and well combed, was all over the place, and your eyes bore a palette of reds that you couldn’t even imagine. You part your lips, slightly opening your eyes with a stupefied look in front of such a scene. You softly put two fingers on your cheek, doubtfully reducing the distance between your face and its reflection, as though to leave one last chance for it to change and tell you that this old rag that currently met your face wasn’t really you.
But nothing happened. As hard as it was to believe, you looked like a pale old rag, and there was no way you’d show yourself like this to your parents that were probably thinking that the love of your life had just proposed to you. And your head was far from looking like that of someone who was in love, from near or from afar.
You grasp your courage into hands and draw your way toward the bathroom as fast as possible, to minimize your chances of meeting anyone. You needed a good hot shower, or rather a cold one, just to settle your ideas back into place and wake your numb body. You snuck into the room, eyes fixed on the hallway to make sure that no one was hiding in any blind spot of the building. Once safe and no one in sight, you closed the door to smack your forehead three times against the varnished wood. You sighed, mumbling a weakly“what the hell am I gonna do… “

“Turning down the wedding sounds like a good option to me”

Your sister’s voice makes you jump and a small cry escapes from your lips against your will. You turn toward her before taking off the mule you were wearing on your feet and throwing it in her direction. She dodges with ease, the shoe landing against the wall in a muffled sound. You freeze once you see the contrast, a beautiful hole decorated with cracks was now throning at the impact’s spot; you were an exorcist, thus possessing considerable physical strength which you, sometimes, had a hard time controlling, resulting, sometimes, in such damages.

“We’ll turn a blind eye on the discretion, there’s the parents’ room behind the wall that you almost took down. And good luck explaining this…”

A vague sense of despair mixed with shame ran through your body, suddenly wanting to take a shovel and dig a hole where you’d bury yourself and never come out again. Your hand unconsciously and loudly ended up slapping your forehead before you let yourself ease up, leaning, or rather slumping against the door behind you.
Your sister scrutinized your reaction with a worried look, wondering what demon took possession of the body of her younger sister, usually so composed. She gently moved toward you, avoiding any sudden movement, before putting both of her hands on your cheeks, locking her emerald irises within yours.

“You have the right to refuse, no one will judge you” she continued with a gentleness that you didn’t know.

“I know that…”

Some honesty wouldn’t hurt you. Your sister may be the person that knew the most about the story, but it wasn’t any less complicated for you to open up to her on what you were feeling. You always built some kind of construct, some type of fortress around yourself; filtering what you wanted to reveal to others from what you kept in your secret garden. You didn’t hide laughter, you didn’t hide tender memories and wisecracks; but you concealed your weaknesses and demons, everything that could wipe the beautiful smile from your face. But sometimes, it could feel good to confide in someone.

“You saw them yesterday,”you say. “They lookes so happy…It can’t be that terrible, I know many people who got married like this.”

“Lying is a sin, you know that, right ?”

“Yuki…you’re making this harder, really. I’m trying to see the good side of things, I’m trying to imagine everything that could go well. Maybe he isn’t so bad…”

“I’m hearing a “but”.”

“But all I’m able to feel is hatred and bitterness. How can they do this? How can this moron choose in my stead? But of course he’s the strongest! An exorcist from the special rank! How to refuse? They give him everything, even the woman that never asked for anything!”

With this confidence, you let yourself fall to the floor. Your legs came to your chest, you hid your face at the bottom of your arms, sheltering yourself as best as you could. You felt as though you were being quartered, on one side pulled the weight of your responsibilities toward your family, the weight imposed by your parents without them being aware of it. On the other side, your pride, your regrets, your desires, your hopes…simply you. How do you choose, how could a person as altruistic as you ever choose between the people you cherished the most and yourself?

Your sister didn’t immediately respond, submerged in her cogitatum. She threw one last little glance at the damage inflicted on the wall before crouching on your right, double blocking the door to anyone who’d want to enter.

“Listen, I don’t know if it’s very seemly to tell you this, but I don’t think that Gojo is to blame in this story.”

You dryly lift your head so that she can see your incredulous look, mixed with exasperation. You prepared yourself to retort and tell her that in any case and whatever were the circumstances, he had given his consent without consulting you, when he visibly knew your sister. Even if he weren’t the instigator, he was at least an accomplice, creating within you the incapacity to exonerate him from his part of responsibility in your misery. But your sister lifted a finger in the air, cutting your intentions short.

“Let me finish first. I think that he’s not even aware, this must be a strategy orchestrated by his family and the counsel. That’s what I think, the Gojo clan would assure a lineage, and the counsel would win one more way to keep him on leash. With a family under his wings, he’d think twice before turning his back on the world. Like I told you before, it’s not like him to get himself into relationships where he needs to commit. He’s a child, like you; he’s what? One year older than you? That’s nonsense. What I suggest to you, is to talk to him-”

“I already said no.”

The blonde lets out a loud exhale, clearly annoyed by your stubbornness and lack of cooperation. She had no difficulty in understanding how hurt you were, seeing your life slipping between your fingers like that, but she, unlike you, still thought with her head. And as much as you refuse to admit it, your feelings were taking over, and all your decisions, all the choices you were about to make at this moment could be tarnished if you didn’t take a step back. And she’d be here to make sure that you don’t make any mistakes, even if it means hurting your sensibility and shoving you when necessary. Yuki raised her hand just to knock it down on the back of your head, a sign that you’d better shut up till she lets you talk.
She fumbled in her pocket before pulling out a phone then typed a few moments on it before placing it at your feet. A simple glance made you understand what she was doing; in fact, the screen showed a name that you came to hate: Gojo Satoru. A simple choice was offered to you: calling and confronting someone whose actions you didn’t know, and toward which you harbored a growing disdain. Or simply refuse, and accept your fate.

You stared at the board in front of your before stretching your arm toward the object, bringing it to yourself. You looked closer to the picture adjoined to the contact. it was undeniably true that he was a handsome man, almost making you soften before your eyes looked back up at your sister, slowly shaking your head in resignation, giving her back her phone.

“I’m sorry…I can’t do it.”

“Why?”She asked.

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer.”

-I don’t have an answer to give, Yuki. I can’t talk to him, I can’t even place a word with him! All I want is to spit on his face and tell him how much I hate him, how much he’s ruining my life. Is that what you want?

“You refuse to talk to him yet you accept marrying him?”

That sounded crazy, completely insane, said like that. If you weren’t able to even say hello, how were you going to live through the fact that you’d have to wake up every morning in front of the same face, and say good morning to him; cook, sleep with him and even more- The idea alone made your stomach churn. Alright, you didn’t imagine your self recreating the sexual intercourse of a nun, but you’d hoped to at least have control over who would be the first person to touch you.
Before you could ever realize it, your body, of its own accord, led you toward the toilet seat, head tilted down, you felt your stomach’s content- liquids pouring from your mouth.
Your sister rushed toward you to hold you up, one hand on your back the other pulling as much hair away from your face as she could; she murmured softly that everything would be alright, and that you had o trust her. You grasped her hand tightly before a second wave of nausea took over your body again, bending you even more over the bowl. She felt guilty, thinking that if she hadn’t had this discussion with you, maybe then you wouldn’t be arched and vomiting your guts out. A kiss came down over your left temple, then you were swallowed in a well deserved hug.

“Take a shower, but don’t hurt yourself, ok? I’ll see what I can do.”

“Don’t do anything, please…”

Your iris fixed on a random spot while you tried to forget the image that had brought such a violet reaction out of you. Yuki didn’t reply, and just caressed your forearms in a comforting manner, almost motherly. You thought again about what those old fossils had ostracized her, making you force out a laugh. You slowly squeezed her hand, signing to her that you felt better.
Once up and about again, she went toward the door which she opened with the least possible noise possible. But before she left, she threw one last glance in your direction. A look which meant that she was watching you closely, and that if you lost control, she’d be there to catch you. Whatever the consequences of her actions, whatever your reaction.

After a good and abnormally long bath, you wrapped your small body in a big pink towel, a color that you’ve always appreciated. You decided to look one more time in the mirror, taking an inhale meant to fill you up with courage, as much air as your lungs could withstand.

“You can do it, you just have to smile.”

You monologue this way for a long minute to convince yourself that you could do it. You could overcome this. This marriage was your grave but the salvation of your family, a necessary evil, and evil you had to accept. An evil you’d learn to want.
With your two indexes, you pull at your lips, sketching a smile that you’d now have to keep, today, tomorrow, and for the eternity that you’d spend with your future husband.

Once dressed and with a touch of make up on, you went to your parents, preferring to maximize the chances you had of hiding your unease. You were welcomed by an embrace that could severe one’s breath away, as though your mother hadn’t seen you in years. You return the gesture before greeting your father. They were all siting at the table for lunch, reminding you of how late you woke up.

“We were waiting for you,” whispers your mother with a sweet voice. “I made your favorite dish!”

You were just about to refuse when your sister pulled the chair on which you usually sat, and you didn’t want to know what would happen if you disobeyed.

The meal made you feel better, your stomach was growling since earlier. However, there lingered a certain melancholy within your eyes, telling you that this meal was probably the last one that you’d share with them; since Gojo lived in Tokyo, he’d certainly make you follow him there.
As per usual, after each meal, you’d clean up the table with your sister before washing the dishes.

“A real little housekeeper,” your sister murmurs to you, kissing your cheek a few dozen times. “I’m going to take a walk, do you want me to bring you anything?  Matcha mochis?”

Your eyes were round and the little cute face you were showing when you heard the name of your favorite dessert were enough of a response to her. She sunk one of her hands in her pockets before clasping her keys in the other one, she took this chance to make a sign of her hand to your parents before taking her leave.
You were once again left alone with your own thoughts, you wondered what it would be like to live within one of the three big exorcist families. You’d have gladly asked your mother, adviser and confidante, but she and your dad were simple people, born by chance, with powers they’d rather not have. They even had jobs that had absolutely nothing to do with their world, you even suspected that they chose their career to stay away from their origins. However, there was one person that could give you information. What you were about to hear would certainly not please you, but it was better than rushing headlong into the unknown.

Once your hands were dried with a towel, you took out your phone, noticing that you had more missed calls from numbers you hadn’t saved, then dialed the one of your four years’ long partner.

“I hope that you have a good reason to bother me.” answers an ever so unpleasant voice.

“Hello Naoya, I’m good and you? Oh you know, nothing much, I’m getting married.”

-You’re what? You? Who’s the idiot that would want you?

“Listen, it’s not a conversation to have over the phone. I need your help, can I pass by?

“I’m waiting for you.”

With this, he hangs up without asking more. You were slowly massaging your temples whilst confronting such a temper, suddenly regretting putting him on the know. You say goodbye to your parents after telling them where you were going.
You weren’t going to reveal the identity of the “moron” in question, nor sharing what was haunting you. Behind his eccentricity, Naoya remained a very simple individual to read. He, like anyone else, had figures that he admired. And this link of admiration, in his case, was directly ruled by a certain superiority. They simply had bigger powers than his’, and yours by the way. During a moment of weakness, he had confessed to you that Gojo was one of them, making you grasp the amplitude of the rumors about him. And if he were to find out that you had to marry him…You weren’t sure what he’d do, but you certainly didn’t want to witness it.

The ride toward the Zenin residence went without a hitch, if not for your brain spinning continuously, making a list of everything you shouldn’t spill at the risk of compromising the anonymity of your future husband. Some servants were kind enough to show you where your partner awaited for you, head sitting on his elbow with an expression from which dripped the weariness painted on his face.

“So? Is it true?”

“Uh…Yeah, Sad-”

“Sadly? On the contrary, I think it’s a good thing. A woman is made to found a home, and always obey her husband. I hope you won’t have a hard time regaining your pretty little waistline after your firstborn.”

So that was what probably awaited you. Becoming a housewife and answering to every whim of your husband, making him as many kids as he wanted. Just thinking about made you feel a vague nausea rising up again.

“And you think that everyone in the three clans has the same visions as you?”

“Let’s see…It’s either a Gojo, or a Kamo. He deduces with a mocking smile pulling at his lips. If it were a Zenin, I would have heard about it.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“My god…What a naughty impatience! Well then no, each one their own opinion of things. Even if you’d have less chances of stumbling across a “cool” guy if you went to the Kamos. Is it a Gojo?”

“Naoya,”you mark a short pause, clearly caught off guard by his deduction. “I’ll tell you when the time comes, for now, it’s…”You search for your words, fearing to let your emotions take control over you. “I still haven’t met him, that’s why I’m asking about how they are.”

He scrutinized you, his mouth thinning into a horizontal line, as though absorbed in his own thoughts. He pointed to a seat next to him with his chin, telling you to take place. Which you did once you took off your shoes. You sat as politely as possible, trying not to infringe the rules which you’ll probably be bound to follow by word. A maid brings in tea and sweets covered in matcha.

“I didn’t think you’d accept a…proposition like this. They put pressure on you, didn’t they?”

His question catches you unawares, it was true that every single time that he mentioned the subject of marriage and tradition, in the most satyric way possible, you’d reply that not everyone was meant for you, so it was easy to understand why such news would raise suspicions in him about the reason why you were forced to make this choice.

“Oh no…Not at all. It’s just that it’s better to be under the protection of someone this important, especially with a sister like mine…”

Speaking of the devil, you had just mentioned her that your phone buzzed, you received a simple “come back, we need you”. You let out a breath, locking your screen before throwing a guilty smile toward your interlocutor. However, with his index, Naoya pushes the plate of sweets toward you; another way to say that you weren’t going anywhere before gobbling up at least one candy. To be fairly honest, you were dying to do so! You reached out your little fingers toward the green squares, wrapped in tea powder. And before you could even quench your gustative desire, Naoya’s big hand closed around your wrist, monopolizing your whole attention. He draws his face close to yours, your bodies still separated by the table, before burying his gaze within yours, his eyes bearing an unusual solemnity.

“One word and I’ll have it cancelled.”

Your expression spontaneously tensed, eyebrows frowned and smile fading away. If there was anything you didn’t expect coming here, it was that Naoya, the traditionalist and fervent abolisher of women’s rights, would offer help in canceling a marriage. You couldn’t understand; and like each time when the why escaped you, you’d dig your heels in, imagining all the most perfidious motives.
You tried to pull out of his grasp but in vain, he was a man after all. A man way too strong, who had the physical capacity to dominate you; what was the point of struggling?

“Thank you but I don’t need your help, I’m perfectly consenting. Now if you’d please let go, they’re waiting for me back home.”

The blondie tightened his grip on your wrist by way of warning; now that you had two people who were ready to ruin everything that you struggled to put in place. Part of you respected and admired these gestures. He and your sister were ready to intervene when they had nothing to gain -quite the opposite- only for your own good. But your choice was made. There was no going back, and you wished that they’d respect your decisions. It was hard enough already, you didn’t need someone trying to dissuade you at every turn.

You pulled one last time at your wrist which he finally released before pointing, one more time, to the plate. You yielded to temptation, before getting up under his wary gaze. He made you feel somewhat uneasy, like his eyes were piercing through your soul, reading you like an open book.
His gaze drifted toward the gardens surrounding the building, before crossing his legs one over the other and linking the fingers of both hands. It was the « ultimatum » pose, and it bode nothing well.

“You have one week to tell me, or else I’ll provoke a scandal with the Gojo clan. We already don’t get along well, so I don’t think there’s anything to lose, at least not for me.”

These words alone were enough to instantly make you regret coming here, what the heck had gone into you? Since when did the oh so mighty Naoya Zenin ever become comprehensive? Never.

“It’s true, the only person that has anything to lose is me. Neither you nor him! I need this alliance, everyone isn’t born with a silver spoon in their mouth! The day when it will be decided that my sister is a-”

“If you needed protection, you could have told me directly” he cuts you off. “I don’t get why you’d rather beg for the help of a stranger. Well, I don’t really believe it.”

He lowers the palm of his hand on the table before getting up and walking in your direction, his imposing figure overshadowed yours while he look down on you, his gaze becoming heavier. Your feet moved by their own accord, backing away a bit.

You were about to try convincing him not to intervene; maybe even telling him the whole truth if coaxing him wouldn’t work; but your phone chose otherwise: another message from your sister ordering you to come back home.
Your partner smiled at you while closing his eyes, before guiding you toward the exit, a hand on your back.
You’d need a lot of courage and patience to clear up this situation. But for now, your sister’s insistence for your to return home was bothering you more than anything else, maybe something happened? Naoya could easily notice your worry and even though he didn’t say anything, he still ordered a driver to drop you at your door.
Just when he was about to close the car’s door, he looked at you one more time in the eyes.

“One week.”

You sighed before nodding back, your surrender gave birth to little rictus on his face. He then signed to the driver that everything was good.
You leaned your head against the windowpane at your right, staring at the moving landscape. What were you going to say and what were you going to not say? You had just discovered one facade that you’d never known of Naoya, and you weren’t sure where to stand. Maybe he was worried, if that was the case, you could be sure that he’d stir up the sky and earth to cancel the wedding, and that without you even being aware of it. Or maybe he just didn’t like the fact that the person whom he was closest to for the last four year could plan such important things without even consulting him beforehand. And he was twisted enough to be convinced that you must listen to him, drink and carry, to the letter, everything that he « strongly advised you » to do. You could only cross your fingers and hope that the second eventuality was false, otherwise the wheels were already in motion, and he’d do anything in his power to ruin this alliance, wether it was good or bad for you. All of a sudden, talking to him about it didn’t seem like a good idea at all; you already regretted it bitterly.

You thanked the adorable driver who had pulled you out of your hare-brained ideas by slipping historical anecdotes about some streets which you’d passed by, always keeping a wide smile over his face, which affected your mood and released your worries about what would happen to you. God, how you appreciated this type of people.
You hurriedly inserted the keys in the door’s lock, almost tripping over yourself once inside. You called your mother then your father with a loud voice, almost screaming before rushing into the kitchen, still with your shoes on.

“My girl…What’s the matter? Did your friend do something to you?” Your mother asked with her sweet yet preoccupied voice.

She was behind the stove, a small squared apron tied around her waist. Everything seemed normal, why did Yuki urge you to come back? You still wore a confused face when your father walked in, breathless. He was probably sleeping when he heard the cries as you came back. You gently put your hand over your heart, before throwing yourself at your mother, tears in your eyes.

“Oh no, is it your boyfriend?”

You shook your head, but refused to pull away from her. Soon, you could feel a pair of arms around you followed by a crystalline laughter from your mother. A threesome hug, that was exactly what you needed.
But the joy was short-lived, interrupted by the sharp ring of the bell, You asked your mother if she was expecting guests which she denied, adding that she didn’t even know who it could be; Yuki had already taken her keys.So you went and opened the door. Maybe you didn’t know who to expect but you also didn’t know who to not expect. You saw two people that you never met before. A woman and a man, most probably a couple, around the same age as your parents. They had white-grayish hair and light colored eyes. No word could come out of your mouth, captivated by the rare beauty and also captivated by the beauty of their clothes: kimonos, probably made of silk, that you’d never seen before in your life. You were dragged out of your thoughts by the woman who cleared her throat, before handing you a bouquet of white roses, a weak smile on her face.

“We…We are Gojo Satoru’s parents.”

Oh, so that was them. You stepped away and let them come in, showing them where the living room was. Which was useless since they had already visited the day before this, with a bouquet in hand; well, at least they changed the flowers. Lovely, you tell yourself, joining them while you were torn between to run away and kicking them out.
And evidently, your parents were of the same opinion as you, given their expression. Your mother was no longer at ease, you even start wondering wether your mother-in-law’s smile didn’t hide bad news -or rather good-.
You didn’t sit right away with them, instead offering a cup of tea which you got yourself ready to prepare before the cold authoritative stopped you.

“It won’t be necessary, my child. Please sit down.”

You did as you were told, the man’s tone having drained any desire to insist, even out of politeness. So you sit between your parents, an overjoyed expression glued over your face. You wondered how such a beautiful and sweet woman could spill so many lies during your absence.

“I don’t know from where to start…”She gently grabs onto the cloth covering her legs between her fists, clearly embarrassed. “My, I mean our son doesn’t emit any doubts toward the desire to make you his wife. However, we had a slight misunderstanding over the wedding date.”

“Misunderstanding?” All three of you asked at the same time.

“You see”…She continues.

In front of his wife’s inability to align three words next to each other, the husband decides to take the reins.

“Satoru decided to finish his studies before officially marrying you, I hope that it doesn’t inconvenience you.”

The four present heads watched you while waiting for a response. You couldn’t believe your ears, this was unreal! This didn’t fix the problem on a long term but you had just won five long years during which you’d have all the time in the world to get used to it. Maybe you could even make this marriage work; even crazier, maybe you could even talk to Gojo!

“What good news this is!”

The look on that your parents just gave you said a lot about the total confusion over the situation. To them, this morning only, you were delighted to marry this young man, and here you were right now, happy to see him postponing it by half a decade. Something was clearly wrong.
The more minutes passed, the more you realized that both mother seemed t relax. Even though both worlds couldn’t grew any more apart, but they were both tied by something extremely strong. Both of them were ready to give anything for their children’s love. You stood there, like a spectator, listening to your future mother-in-law talking of her son’s achievements, talking about how smart, funny, cultivated and strong he was. And even if he was an independent person, she couldn’t help wanting the best for him.
In a sense, it was kind of flattering. People that you knew nothing about, considered you as the most ultra dude in matters of marriage. Somewhat degrading, said like this, but still flattering.
Then came the moment when they had to go, you walk them to the door, alone, as ordered by the madam. Just as you were about to close the door behind them, a delicate hand landed on your cheek. Its owner set her eyes on yours, a gaze filled with tenderness, love and…melancholy.

“I’m sorry to have inflicted such a thing on you… She draws closer to you before taking your arm, so that no one can hear. You have five years before you to refuse; in the opposite case, I offer you this.”

She puts a little box covered in blue velour in your hand, it was probably a jewel: a ring. You couldn’t understand at all, this woman was on your side? She seemed to know the pain of seeing her destiny forced, at least now you knew that there’d always be someone to support you there. On this, she walks away with her husband; a car awaited them next to your house. You give her one last sign of your hand, mouthing a little « thank you » before coming back inside.

“What a day…Where’s Yuki by the way?”

“I’m here to see Gojo, not you.”

“He’s not here, you can go. Answers dryly the director of the Kyoto establishment.”

Yuki rolled her eyes, exasperated. She almost forgot why she didn’t want anything to do with these people.

She had responsibilities toward her family, and as much as she could avoid them, there were moments where she could simply not stand by. She knew that Gojo liked her enough, they had something in common; that rebellious and reformative spirit , he too fought against the stupid traditions that a bunch of rotting mummies tried so hard to maintain in order to shut down a generation that was more and more conscious. So it was impossible that this decision came from him; and if it was the case, a good old fist would be enough to fix his thoughts back into place.

“Can you explain to me how he’s not here when I can clearly see his head over the window?”

She abruptly stands up from the couch on which she was sitting to land a bunch of hits on the glass, so that she can catch the attention of the concerned who chose to deliberately ignore her. Ok, that, she wouldn’t let it slide!

The blonde suddenly opens the windowpane before jumping out of it, good thing it was on the ground floor, before chasing after the exorcist.

“Hey there, easy now! You think you can hook up with my sister like that? Come back here, Gojo!”

He suddenly turns around toward her before pushing up his glasses, placing them over his head. She rarely saw his face this calm. He had dark circles under his eyes, it must have been a few nights since he last slept, and his smile, although emblematic, had disappeared.

“Excuse me,Ithink I can hook up with your sister? Are you sure it’s not the opposite? I was told that miss was more than overjoyed at the idea, so much so that it’s said you’re the one who came with it.”

“Sorry to break it to you like this but I had nothing to do with this, and she even less so. This whole thing is driving her crazy, they blackmailed her, you too I presume, given your face. How long has it been since you last slept? One? Two? Three days maybe?”

“Yuki…They’re forcing me to marry, me? I could never keep a girlfriend for one week, what do you want me to do with a…a wife! You can’t imagine my parents’ face, that’s all they’ve been waiting for, that reminds me, they’re on their way to spoil you with flowers and fine words.” He admits.

She was right from the beginning, Gojo, the son, wasn’t involved in this story at all. On the other hand, everyone would benefit in this story, except the two main actors. He was far from being reckless, and all that he did was in the interest of those he protected: his friends. With a wife, a woman that he’d see every day, every evening and with whom he’d probably have a kid; he’d almost be forced to develop feelings for her, be it love or simply a systematic need to protect his little family. Which would make him think twice before going against a decision coming from the top.

“I thought I’d noticed, they made a good impression at home. it’s said like you two make form the perfect couple.”

He lifted his eyes to the sky, clearly annoyed. However, it might have been just an impression, but these revelations that your sister made to him, seemed to calm him down a bit. He must have thought that Yuki betrayed him, while he fully trusted her.

“She doesn’t even answer my calls.”

“You don’t say! Listen, I’m going to be honest with you, she doesn’t want this either. Want to know why she accepted? She’s worried about our parents, I’m not the most appreciated person here, I think you know that already, and one of the reasons why I’m perpetually moving around is…I’m worried for them too. She didn’t say it clearly but-“

“They must have promised her that under the Gojo name, your family would be saved, right?”

“Bingo, young man. She could be your best ally, she thinks like me. Think wisely, this alliance is practically unavoidable; why not do things the right way?”

“Because I’m barely twenty!”

“And she’s barely nineteen, that’s not the prob-…Never mind, it is. Can you stall for time? That’s what both of you need.”

“And you want me to push this until when?” He asks, rather curious.

“Until you both find a solution in order not to kill each other from the first evening, ok? Listen, not that I don’t appreciate the company but I gotta go. I’m counting on you, just like you can count on me. I want to help you, don’t forget we’re talking about my sister here, and if something were to ever happen to her because of you…You know the rest!”

The blonde shakes her phone in his direction, telling him to call her in the evening for more details. She unlocks it then sends a simple text:  « Come back, we need you. »

“Don’t forget, make the good choice Gojo”

The Fiancée - Chapter 1 - Addict_of_Animation - 原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

The first chapter of The Fiancée AU has been live since the twenty-first but I forgot to link it here.

card-games-and-pain:

Mafia Madness - Family Business

Previous 

tw: forced marriage, organized crime family, forced gender roles. 

…

Will Hear Us Screaming at the Cold 

“Elodie, Alena, Xavier,” her father greets them all at supper, kissing her and her sister on their hair, claps her sister’s husband on the shoulder. “My love.” Her mother then, a quick peck on the lips. “Ça va?” 

“Ça va, Papa.” She sits straight, gentle and demure in tone and expression. “Et toi?” 

“Hm, ça va, ma petite puce.”

“Les affaires marchent bien?” Elodie tracks him with her head as he moves away from her and her sister, just like everyone else does. 

You don’t take your eyes off Monsieur Lavoie when he enters a room. 

Keep reading

card-games-and-pain:

Mafia Madness - Initiation 

tw: murder, blood, knife violence, ritualized murder, mentions of religion/Catholicism, forced gender roles, implied forced marriage, implied/threatened violence against a family member 

…

“You can do it, ma petite puce. I believe in you.” 

Adrián pleads for his life from behind the cloth around his mouth, and Elodie cannot help but to track the tears as they make their way down his cheek. 

He doesn’t want to die. 

So he shouldn’t have told the Mouret family about their upcoming job. 

Now, he willdie, it is just a question of if Elodie will do it or if someone else will have to.

Traitors don’t have names. Traitors don’t have faces. They lose that right the moment they squeal. 

But she knows him. 

Keep reading

I hope you enjoy!

[Super Villain] sighed as they let the door click shut. Today went off perfectly, but as far as [Super Villain] was concerned, it was an utter disaster.

They had dreamed of the day they would marry [Hero], they had told [Other Super Villain] many times of their plans to win their love.

They had never planned on [Other Super Villain] blackmailing [Hero] into marrying [Super Villain].

Now, they were left in the shards of their broken dreams in a loveless marriage. Maybe they could think of some way to win [Hero]’s love still..? No, the dirty looks and contempt radiating off of [Hero] the entire time shattered their hope even further. They stared silently at the door as they wallowed in their self-pity, only for their depressive thoughts to be broken by a giggle.

[Super Villain] blinked in confusion before pressing an ear to the door. For a moment, they thought their mind was playing tricks on them until it happened again, more giggling.

“I can’t believe I’m actually married to [Super Villain].” [Hero]’s gleeful voice, “I knew going to [Other Super Villain] was a great idea!”