People really out here claiming they don’t like Levi because he’s rude…

*Caugh*

You can talk all you want but I’m not listening.

屑男人太蛊了

HAPPY BIRTHDAY NANAMI YOU DESERVE THE WORLD AND I MISS YOU SO MUCH

ALSO A HUGE THANK YOU FOR 300 FOLLOWERS I DIDN’T NOTICE TILL NOW YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST ❤❤❤

Lowkey wish I didn’t put Haibara in the back cos now I miss him too ;–;

Bokeh on Twitter

JOHN WICK PIECE IS DONE

Took a lot of reference since I’m kind of colorblind so the darker patches were somewhat traced on but apart from that it was a fun piece to draw and it makes me glad I did life study back in high-school

Big thanks to my friends for double checking if I had the right colors in the right place

Its also on twitter sorry for the self promo I tend to be a little bit more active there

Bokeh on Twitter

Really quick lighting practice

I have a John Wick/Nanami piece on the way so I thought a little practice never hurt ;w;

Bokeh on Twitter

Thank you guys for 100+ followers

Have some smiley Nanami

EDIT: I JUST GOT TOLD THAT IT LOOKS A LOT LIKE KOZUHAS ERWIN SMIT PIECE AND I HAD NO IDEA I AM SO SORRY I JUST USED A CLIP STUDIO MODEL-

I haven’t traced this I hadn’t a clue

I can totally see the resemblance and I had absolutely no intentions of this happening I’m so sorry

こずは on Twitter

Bokeh on Twitter

vedjagames:

Author’s note. Hello, I’m just a simple boy with a horrible mind that needs a place to put my psyche’s horrible thoughts. This is one of them. A nearly 6k thought. I’d like to thank @bokehmonn for their beautiful Naoya art that planted this seed in my head and @sukunasfootrest for motivating me to do it. It’s my first fic so any critiques are welcome ;-;

There he was in front of you in a nice little package. He glowered at you with those dangerously gorgeous cat eyes and you were sure that behind the makeshift gag he was growling. The defiance made your skin hot. You wanted to tame it. He wasn’t much of a threat now though; his hands had been tied in front of him with an expert knot. His legs were still free. You wanted him trapped but to the point that he could still refuse if needed. The room was small and kept you two close so it only took a couple of steps until you were practically ghosting your chest against his. You took the cloth gag out of his mouth and a trail of saliva came with it from where he’d been trying to pathetically push it out. He coughed. You couldn’t help but express the question you knew he wouldn’t answer “Such a pretty boy. So why such an ugly attitude?” A hand gently raised to caress the cheek of Naoya who’s back was now pressed against the wall. Y/N couldn’t help but grin as the supposed future head of the Zen’in clan was looking up at him with glassy doe eyes barely hidden with a scowl and furrowed brows.

“Get the FUCK away from me you putrid curse halfbreed!!!” he choked out. The other males quick reflexes stopped the others motion with his tied hands just as quickly as it started but Y/N knew the heir could’ve been fast enough to stop it all together. The small flicker of flesh touching was enough to dust Naoya’s face a tinge of pink, the sudden rise in body temperature tangible. Y/N’s eyes didn’t leave his companions face but the other looked down as much as possible mumbling angrily to himself.

“You didn’t think of me that way when we first met. Look at me Zen’in-sama.” You demanded.

 His refusal to do so made you sigh and continue speaking “Do you truly believe in what you say? Belittling others in order to see yourself on a mentally higher pedestal or because you’re truly insecure of being in the position to lead with the lack of power you truly compare to others in the first place.” At that he looked straight up at you, the words striking a nerve. His eye twitched. To your surprise laughter erupted from his throat, the manic look on his face being the same as the one he uses to fight. 

Maki-chan said that this situation could end two ways. With Naoya Zen’in becoming a better man through a love confession or Naoya Zen’in and you fighting to the death. Either way he had to be tied up and trapped somewhere in order to listen.

Keep reading

I’m sorry I’ve got a serious case of “Simping for Nanami Kento” atm

Its also up on twitter so the support is always appreciated uwu

Bokeh on Twitter

I’m really hoping this counts as proper censorship

But enjoy the Local Misogynist finally shutting up

|| Choices // 03

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 four

“You’re a ticking bomb. “

“You should smile a bit more, it’s supposed to be the best day of your life after all.” You spoke in a low voice, finally breaking the silence.

“Of our life,” corrected your interlocutor. “But you you’re not smiling either.”

“I’ve got a veil over my head, if you hadn’t noticed. Everyone doesn’t have your hawk eyes.”

You slowly turn towards him, scrutinising the outlines of his silhouette through the mesh of tissue separating you from the world. His eyes were riveted on the assembly in front of you, his opalescent irises visibly sensitive to the faintest visual stimulus. You couldn’t perceive all the details of his face, but you could see enough to discern the frustrated look he wore: frowned eyebrows, casting a gloomy darkness over his eyes. You could also guess, through the contrast of colors, the line formed by his pursed lips, a downcast concave arc, only affirming the moroseness decorating his sweet thing of a face.

A sigh escapes from your mouth. This wasn’t at all how you imagined the course of things. You even came to wonder whether or not he’d get rid of you as soon as possible, relieving himself of all the responsibilities that cumbered him because of you. You could already kiss goodbye your plans of all-inclusive family protection.

It was patent, at the end of every round from the clock’s arrows, that silence was getting heavier, weighting more and more on your shoulders. You tried to lure your mind by confusing on the surrounding banalities, ears stretched towards the laughter and joyous voices of good conduct and anecdotes. Through the cacophony, you made out the sound of clanking glasses with each other, probably coming from friends that had nothing to do with the traditionalism of his clan. Thinking about it, it might have been your mannerless sister who was pouring the sake, or champagne; there was no way of knowing.

You, as well as your parents, had greatly apprehended Yuki’s behaviour during this ceremony. It a wedding as traditional as could be, with its fervent conservatives that never missed their duty in badmouthing mores and old-fashioned customs. In your misery, you could at least agree with the fact that they didn’t try to hide things from you, from the outfit worn by your in-laws on the day you’d met them, to the indecent number of tailors, florists, and seniors that had come to help you prepare for this day; but that didn’t make the greatness of things any less grand.

“Can you see anything with that on your head?” Your spouse’s voice startles you out of your thoughts. You didn’t really expect him to engage in conversation with you, not after the cold reply that he’d served you earlier.

You slowly put your left hand on the floor, tilting towards him, getting a semblance of balance. You could feel that he didn’t want to raise his voice more than this or to attract more attention towards the both of you, but this silence probably bothered him too. In fact, he was known for being a joyful person, a happy-go-merry lad who always had the right word to ease the atmosphere. Even though, believing Utahime’s words, he sometimes gave in to arrogance and disdain, playing with his “victim’s” fears and weaknesses.

You had five long years to face your responsibilities, taking the first train and breaking the wall that you’d built between the two of you by refusing to meet him; but for several reasons, you never had the courage to do so. And what you refused to admit, whether to yourself or to those who incited you to take action, was that Gojo Satoru scared you. You’d never met two persons that said the same thing about him, sometimes he was a progressive, other times a bloodthirsty manipulator. One day he had a big heart, another day he showed himself to be devoid of any trace of humanity. And you dreaded which facet he’d wear with you, he too had been forced into this, what would hold him back from hating you?

“Not really,” you whisper to him. “Just shadows.”

He then mirrored your posture by landing his hand close to yours, reducing the sparse space between you even more. Seen from afar, one could almost think of you as accomplices; head against head, confiding in each other. You were now so close that you could feel his scent teasing your nostrils, deliciously masculine and intoxicating. You could easily get used to it, to this scent on your clothes as well as on your skin.

“So why are you wearing it?” He asked.

“For tradition, I suppose.”

A silence even more awkward than before fell soundlessly between you. You felt your veil’s tissue moving from the breath he’d just let out before hearing him clearing his throat, eyes lost once again into the crowd.

“So you’re like this…” He concludes.

“You know nothing about me.” You shot back.

“That’s funny, because if you hadn’t systematically refused to meet me, I could have known you,” He paused, probably thinking that you were nothing more than a capricious brat that said things, accepted circumstances without ever embracing the consequences.

You were both under the yoke of this inquisition, neither of you was happy about ending up bound to the other, but he had done things for you. When Yuki solicited him, he hadn’t hesitated for even a second to postpone the wedding even though he had nothing to gain from it, on the contrary. He had pulled, pulled and pulled more on the strings held in hands to arrange this little princess, frail and fragile, that he had to marry just for her to end up not even deigning to meet him.

A voice in your head screamed at you to open up to him, to trust him, but would he really understand? Could a man that had everything ever understand a woman that had lost everything? Once again, your fear paralysed you. You didn’t know whether he’d hear you out, listen to you, or simply take what comforted him in his image of you; an image that didn’t seem all that glorious in your eyes.

“I have my reasons.” A short but curt reply.”

“And you don’t think that five years were largely enough to share them with me? We’re going to live together and build a family. From today on, your name is Gojo,” He reminded you.

“Do you understand the scope of things at least?” Before he could even notice, he had raised his tone, making you slightly push away from him, straightening up into your initial position.

You cast your eyes to the ground, almost ashamed. It had been barely five minutes since you started talking and here you were already being nagged. He didn’t think that you could grasp the extent of your responsibilities, of all the sacrifices that you had to make for him. To be honest, he wasn’t wrong, at least not entirely. You didn’t resist the idea of your husband being a man feared by society, he was dangerous, and didn’t let himself be controlled by anyone. And deep down, you respected this side of him, having witnessed first handedly the drifting of society within which you lived. But what you couldn’t imagine for now, was to what lengths this same society, without mentioning heads nor names, was ready to go to break your husband. You could easily conceive the stratagems crafted in an attempt to maintain him out of harm’s way as well as their potential repercussions, but your mind couldn’t accept that one could sacrifice lives just to protect a so-called balance. Gojo knew it. He had paid the price, even, and he almost had pity in the fact that you were unconsciously putting yourself under the spotlights. It was as though you had launched yourself in a hunting party, loaded with weapons but having forgotten the munitions.

Your reaction had somehow caught him off guard since he didn’t want to intimidate you or instigate a relationship of dominant and dominated. He looked at your small hand, still poised close to his, before mumbling something then carelessly getting closer to you. He put the palm of his hand over the back of yours before delicately sliding the pad of his fingers over the length of your arm. Without understanding much as to why, your hairs stood on end, the touch of his skin still burning over yours. He seized your arm as gently as he could before pulling you towards him, recreating a semblance of intimacy.

“I’ll never hurt you. All I ask of you is to trust me, otherwise it would have all been in vain.” He said softly.

He was right, and even if it would be difficult, you had to trust him if you wanted to gain any advantage you sought. Your eyes focused on the sole thing that you could see, your small hand on the floor and the ring that now crowned your finger. A resplendent diamond that his mother had offered you during your first encounter, a mother that loved her son. A mother that wanted to protect her son at all cost, but who wasn’t ready to sacrifice a life in order to save another, no matter how much she wanted to.

“I’ll do everything in my power to make this marriage work, but I need time…”

“To?” He waited for you to respond.

“To…” While searching for your words, you slowly realised that you were formulating answers to questions you were never able to ask yourself, thus re-establishing some order into the maze within which had morphed your mind along the years.

Your eyes slowly started to water, tears clenching an invisible vice around your throat, thus holding back the words that you were ready to confess. It was no secret, you needed time to learn to do things right, to learn how to avoid being clumsy. You wanted to pull down your cocoon, to squander your shell and let him breathe some of your air; that’s what he seemed to expect from you, and the price was worth it. But a restrain, call it the blacksmith’s life, firmly held onto the leash that you were trying to let go of.

He seemed to understand that it wouldn’t be today that you’d play cards on the table, maybe it was because of the melancholy that he could read in your face when you turned your head towards him, or maybe the weak shrug of your shoulders as you moved; whatever it was, he clearly understood that it would be meaningless to push this conversation any further. You were already on the verge of tears, and even if it were customary for a woman to cry on her wedding day, he was ready to put money on the fact that it was for entirely different reasons. He now needed to find a way to clear the overly morose air and lift your lips upward.

“Did you know that they served whiskey during traditional weddings?” He asked out of the blue, wiping off your mournful expressing and replacing it with a gigantic question mark.

“Really? Since when?” You answer, totally confused.

“Since a few hours ago apparently, I hope for you that she knows how hold her liquor.”

Who the hell was he talking about? But to your horror, you didn’t know many people who had so little respect for traditions, one of them being less than 10 centimetres away from you.

“Please, tell me it’s not Yuki…” Your eyes widened.

“Alright, I won’t say it,” he taunted you by lifting a hand in the air.

Once again, you had the urge to take a shovel and dig what would soon become your grave, far from the prying eyes, probably heavy with judgment, and the shame that you felt. You and your parents had spent hours and hours trying to convince her to adopt, for even one day, the politically correct, given that it would end up with repercussions on your person. The most annoying part in all of this was that at the time, she seemed to show signs of comprehension and to accept to behave decently. Niet. Tsukumo Yuki would only ever do what she pleased, it was almost a fatality.

His shoulder made contact with yours in a light manner, eyes full of satire. You could finally see the childish side of Gojo Satoru, slowly uncovering right in front of your eyes. Utahime has probably gone through all different shades of suffering to call him an idiot -along with many other names. But in your case, it didn’t really bother you all that much, you even enjoyed this kind of teasing, as long as you could distinguish his intentions. And if, just like in this moment, it was devoid of any perverse motive, you could probably get used to it.

You decide to reciprocate the movement, colliding your shoulder to his forearm, unable to touch his shoulder due to the height difference. He could easily discern the slight frown of your brows when a little laugh escaped from his mouth: there he was mocking you! You didn’t wait before riposting, your little fingers were already fraying a path on his arm before pinching him, showcasing how if he didn’t want to end up as blue as smurf, he’d better avoid making any remarks about your small stature.

“If it’s any comfort, long drinks of water aren’t really my thing.”

“I’ll make sure to tell Yuki.”

“Could it be possible to buy your silence? Mochis? Maybe a pet?”

“You’re scared of my sister? Really?” Now, this was interesting.

“Me? Of course not, come on.” He denied immediately. “I’m just looking for a way to fill my role as a husband and offer you things, tinker bell told me that you had a hard time accepting gifts. I’ll gladly admit, though, that your sister isn’t the type of person one would want on their back.”

“They say the same about you.” You retorted.

“I’m the strongest, after all.” His voice held an aura of pride.

You softly blow from the nose, he was without a doubt the most powerful exorcist of your generation— since many years now. But hearing this affirmation, pronounced in such a laidback way, and with so much confidence; it was funny. He grimaced before clicking his tongue.

“Does my wife doubt me?” He continues.

Hearing him say that so offhandedly made the blood rush up to your cheeks, reminding you that your discussion wasn’t one that two friends would have around a meal. It was that of young married couple, that was supposed to create bonds stronger than sickness, misery and misfortune. He was your husband and you had to get used to it.

“Your wife finds you a bit too full of yourself.” You said teasingly.

“Until proven otherwise, you haven’t answered my question.” He replied without missing a beat.

You took a long inhale, you didn’t want to play hard to get and say that you didn’t believe him to be so strong, just because you didn’t believe it. But you also didn’t want to go with his flow, a little something in his voice hinted that he was enjoying this little play, and you were ready to entertain.

“I know the man I’m marrying.”

“At the risk of disappointing you, I don’t think you know me all that well. But I can’t really blame you, at least not for this, right?” He asked you while switching positions.

He was now half stretched out, his right arm behind your back. His head was at your shoulder’s level, and he didn’t hesitate long before lying on it, appreciating the softness of your kimono’s material.

The soft breeze of the afternoon was playing with the tissues and strands of hair, spinning them at Aeolus’ will. Usually, you’d enjoy the zephyr’s breath, dry and hot weathers weren’t really your cup of tea. However, you found it more annoying than anything else, at this very moment, and your partner seemed to be of the same opinion. Your veil threatened to fly away at any moment now, forcing you to hold it down between your little fingers. Gojo, for his part, had to puff it away each time a piece came free and obstructed his sight, which happened quite often given his posture.

“Your wife only asks to know you, then.” You said softly.

Your reply caught him off guard, he lifted his eyes towards you, tilting his neck even more. You suspected that he was trying to take advantage of the wind, waiting for the moment when your veil would lift to give him a direct view at your face. So you grab as much tissue as possible before pulling it towards yourself, obliterating the smallest of openings to his great disappointment. A chuckle escaped your lips as you heard the small groan of frustration he emitted, to be honest, you were even proud.

“Alright, alright. I’ve been uncovered.” He said begrudgingly.

“Patience is a virtue, Gojo.” You reminded him.

“Virtue that seems to be lacking, Tsukumo. Come on! Which wise head had the bright idea of putting a veil on a woman for her wedding day. Who knows what could be hidden under this-” He pointed to the veil, “-I mean, I wouldn’t dare imagine how many men found themselves stuck with plain Janes because of this stupid tradi- everything alright?”

He laid his worried gaze on your small trembling figure. In fact, your shoulders were shaking frantically, as though fed on a supercharged battery. It was unseemly to burst into laughter during overly crowded ceremonies, whatever the nature of the ceremony in question, and so this was why you were trying your utmost to refrain the fit of laughter that was ready to take over. One could even wonder if Gojo ever heard himself talk, or if he even realised how absurd he could sound.

He frowned, understanding the reason of your current physical state then he pushed you, pretending to be offended. “And here she’s mocking me!”

“You just called me a plain Jane!” You add while mimicking his gesture.

“Absolutely not, I’m just saying that some have eh…less luck than others. You don’t think that I’m right, not even a bit?” He cocked his head a little.

You had to admit that even in his stupidity, there was a certain foundation basis. You doubted that the problem to him wasn’t a piece of tissue but rather the instrumentality of a bond meant to be sacred. There shouldn’t be anything cumbering someone to bound themselves forever to someone they didn’t know. It was a liberticidal and medieval practice, that even if in certain circumstances would end into something beautiful, mostly caused more pains than gains. And you couldn’t help but think that in every case where an arranged marriage worked, the merit always went to the husband who was more obliging than he ought to be. Especially in your case, in a field where love seemed to have no importance.

“Of course-”

“See! I’m always right,” He cuts you off.

You rolled your eyes before pulling more material from your veil toward yourself, tightening your grip on the space between your neck and face.

“Even so, that’s not a reason for me to let you feast your eyes. Plus, isn’t your your six eyes supposed to let you see everything?” You asked.

“It’s more complicated than that, I’ll explain one day, promise. In the meantime, I believe it’s time. Do you have the rings?”

His question was only met with confusion. “Which rings? I have no…”

“You forgot our wedding rings? “ He asked incredulously.

“What?! But I wasn’t the one supposed to bring them! No one told me!”

Not quite sure of what to do, you started to wiggle left and right, to and fro, as though your body was trying to invoke the jewels. You were hoping that your sister would notice the agitation and fly to your rescue, like she always did, but how to know if you had the attention of anyone when you couldn’t even see to more than 10 centimetres? But you were quickly cut in your movement by a big hand tapping on your thigh several times, making you regain your calm.

“Now, now, I’m kidding! They’re with your sister,” he articulates between two laughs. If he wanted to embarrass you, then he clearly succeeded.

Your only response was to hit his palm with yours several times, without much force to inflict any pain but rather to showcase how lame you found his joke.

Gojo freed your thigh before finally getting up, the rustling of tissues indication movement. He smiled to several people before beckoning Yuki. This kind of ceremony could and should normally last way longer than this. But this pack of apparent hypocrisy and false courtesy annoyed him enough to cut it short.

“Hey lovebirds, I hope you’re not too bored over here.” She says, overjoyed, before throwing a small box toward your spouse, he thanks her with a wink.

“Yuki,” you say once you recognise her, your joy more than evident.

She grasped you by the shoulders before turning your around, your back now to the crowd, shielded from the indiscrete eyes of the guests- as well as Gojo’s. Yuki put a knee on the floor before bending the tip of the veil still on top of your head before pulling it over, sliding hers under. It was impossible to talk with all these people around, yet she had a solution to everything.

“Nice one-on-one, right?” She teased while sticking her forehead to yours.

“I can hear them berate from here, you shouldn’t do this.”

“That’s Gojo grumbling because he can’t be in my shoes.” She said with raised voice.

“So, how are things? Everything okay?” She asked. That was a good question, to which you had no real answer. To be completely honest, you’d learnt to detach yourself from reality, to be a spectator in your own life rather than the actress. If you couldn’t always decide, then you’d rather not suffer. So you played the role you were assigned, you sang your opera till the curtains fell, away from the indiscrete gazes and breakable hearts. But not wanting to worry your sister, you just lie, one more time.

“Oh yes, yes. Everything’s for the best, don’t worry. He, however, is starting to lose patience I think.” You replied finally.

“Gojo? He was born with an eye on the watch, it’s out of his control. Good luck bearing with him, sis,” she commiserates satirically.

“I can hear you,” he throws in, busy smoothing down his clothes, tired of sitting down.

Yuki waved her hand in a way that says to shut up, not caring about what he could hear or think. All that she cared about at this moment was to know that you weren’t regretting anything, and that if deep down you wished to cancel this wedding but didn’t dare to say it, ashamed or scared of disappointing. She locked her gaze abnormally serious into yours, she was trying to spot any hint of unease, after all, eyes were truly the mirror of the soul. But to her great disappointment, she couldn’t see anything; your usually sparkly irises, were wan, pale and empty, devoid of any emotion. She could see neither joy nor pain, neither regret nor apprehension; absolute void. She wasn’t really sure whether what she was looking for was more worrying than what she’d found.

However, Yuki knew that questioning you or trying to make your spill the beans would be in vain, a little sister even more closed off than herself. So she shut up, tucked her worries in before landing a soft kiss on your forehead, a kiss meant to be reassuring, slowly murmuring that whatever happened, she’d forever be by your side. She stepped away and put back the white lace over your face before throwing a small velvety box toward Gojo, a box that he effortlessly caught mid-fly. He thanked her with the back of his hand before she got up, decolonizing the nuptial space that was meant for you and your spouse and returned to your parents, leaving you along once again.

“The priest is here, let’s get up.” He lends you his hand so you can stand up.

You put your small fingers in his big palm, squeezing it while hoping that it’d be enough for you to straighten up. That said, your kimono was quite tight due to the enormous amount of clothes under it, and you couldn’t bend your knee correctly to get up, thus losing your balance. You almost kissed the floor if it weren’t for Gojo who’d leaned toward you in order to hold you up discretely.

His hand was on your hip, while you grabbed onto both of his forearms, unconsciously digging your nails into his flesh. You could feel his hot breath on your forehead, then his head tilted down, his lips were now closer to the lines of your ear.

“Everything good?” He whispered before letting you go, having made sure that you weren’t about to fall once more.

You nodded timidly, still under the effect of the close proximity, so new and so sudden. Being this small- smaller than you’d imagined, your head ended up on his collarbone, the part of his body that wasn’t covered by the outfit. If it weren’t for the veil, your lips would have been directly in contact with his skin, this thought alone created a sort of uneasiness inside of you. It reminded you of the day when your uniform had ripped off, showing off your belly as well as a part of your chest, under the stupefied gaze of a certain Zenin.

He then gets away from you, trying to get into a respectable distance from your body (he probably thought that you were uneasy because of the physical contact with a stranger) but close enough for his stretched arms to reach for you.

You didn’t understand what was going on until the deafening silence draped the crowd that uttered neither words nor agitation. So straightened up, straight as a stick while facing your spouse who snorted before putting his hand on the small of your back, hinting that you should turn around toward the priest instead of him. You pinned as good as you could, delicately moving your feet as little as possible, in order to be in the best position.

“Sit down,” the holy man indicates.

“We’re gonna stay up, that will make things faster.” Gojo said coolly.

The priest, knowing whom he was facing, didn’t insist more than that, fearing the consequences. Even though, deep down, you knew that Gojo would never go that far, these brief moments made you realise the scope of what the strongest could inspire in others. Disaster, desolation and misfortune must be all that he left behind; he had to feel quite lonely, in the end.

You could easily guess the movements of the man before you, he practiced the rites with great meticulousness, carrying out all these ancestral rituals of purification, or benediction, you never really understood all the flights of fancy. To be more precise, you never really tried to understand; to you, marriage was simply done to tell others that two persons were bound, surely not to get any sort of benediction. And you also didn’t think that a ceremony had any specific value within the couple: its solidarity, its longevity and its purity only depended on the commitment that the married couple was ready to pour in, not of some bowl of holy sake.

The psalms resonating in your ears were incredibly intoxicating. The procession of litanies was probably used to bring joy and benediction to your union before the gods. Even though you didn’t believe more than that, they managed to appease your soul and to put the flames consuming you to sleep. This spiritual atmosphere calmed you down more than you’d like to admit, “So that’s why there were so many believers in the world?”

Then the priest poured a bowl of sake that he extended to your spouse. If your memory weren’t failing you, it was the key moment of every shinto marriage. He lifted the little porcelain utensil to his lips, before taking three successive sips. The priest served his liquor one more time, this one for you.

You lifted your veil enough to reveal your lips before taking the bowl, not without struggle. Noticing your unease, Gojo, gentleman that he could be, relieved you of task so that you could lift the china with both hands, gripping the front of the veil, lifting it forward, enough for you to drink at ease, three sips too. You handed the bowl to the priest so that he can fill it once more, then Gojo drinks a second time, thus sealing your fates forever.

Then came the moment that you were looking forward to the most, and that made it so your spouse couldn’t stay put: the ring exchange. You could see his immaculate teeth through the mesh of your lace, telling you long and wide about the smile engraved on his face. What a brat.

Wearing the veil had nothing to do with tradition, if you must admit it; or at least not among Japanese ones. When it was time for preparations to start and the imperatives of your honeymoon, you’d clashed head first with the conservative customs of the Gojo clan. You wanted to wear a white dress, no matter what, discovering the stupor of your husband as he lifted your veil, throwing your bouquet and laughing without any restrain as ladies fought to catch it. Simply put, you wanted a laic occidental wedding while they tried at all cost to impose a shinto one in its purest form.

And to plead your cause, you could rely -to your great surprise- on your future mother-in-law who had never missed a chance to graciously underline to the clans’ elders that times had improved, and that the youth was detaching itself more and more from the customs of their generation, even going as far as to say that it was the will of her son to have a laic wedding -when the truth was that he didn’t give a damn. He had entrusted all of his responsibilities to his mother who had bent over backwards to meet your requests, having neither the time nor the desire to participate in such mundane things.

You could still remember the day when everyone had finally agreed, it had been the hundredth and endless reunion « opposing » from one side you and your mother-in-law to the elders of the Gojo clan, and none of them was determined to give up not even one decision to your free will. You were all sat on tatamis, the two sides separated by low pieces of furniture, probably sculpted from wood of exorbitant price. Next to each of you, were laid cups full and still steaming that no one had the time to savour. You had been welcome, like every other time, by sullen faces, animated with a parade of « no and synonyms » every time that you’d formulated the smallest request, and you weren’t in a position of power. You needed this marriage more than the clan, and more than Gojo himself; so you were in no position to throw ultimatums or threatening to pull away, given your temperament, they’d be the first to open the exit doors for you.

That was how it went, at least until…

You felt the warm and delicate hand of your mother-in-law land apologetically on yours, you could feel through the gesture that she wanted to be of more help but the situation was out of her hands, it was out of both of your pairs of hands. She closed her eyes before opening them again, hinting that it was time to give up negotiations, pushing them further would only harm your reputation. Because, even if Satoru was by far the strongest and the most feared, it was never good to have the reputation of a rebel within a family that did everything to keep him under leash. You were about to give your consent for the ceremony’s details when the sound of doors slamming against their frames tilted the centre of your attention toward the entrance where the lines of a silhouette, a bit too familiar to your taste, started to form.

“Yo! I knew that it was a mommy’s meeting, but this…you literally rival with Nefertiti!” Mocks the young woman as she leisurely strolls around the room, not even deigning to take off her shoes.

“Lord, may you help us…” you mumble under your breath while covering your eyes with your palm, not knowing what else to do. It was really really the last person you hoped to see at this moment.

It was outrageous, and the cronies around you didn’t bother hiding it, letting out little gasps while covering their mouths with their hands, some even dared to tell your sister to go. Big mistake…

“So,” your sister acquitted as she threw her hindquarters on the ground like an oaf, legs spread wide open before putting her bowl on the low table. “I heard that the negotiations were stalling so i came to play Belgium.”

“-It’s Switzerland”…you whispered discretely.

“Switzerland, pardon me” she corrects while coughing.

You didn’t dare to tear your eyes away from your hand, all you wanted was for the earth to open up and swallow you. Your mother-in-law, as embarrassed as you, put her hand on your back, rubbing you tenderly to reassure you. Like she told you every time, whatever happens her son would protect her, even when he seemed to be away today.

“Everything is totally fine, we were just about to wrap things up.” Starts one of the crackling voices

“Really? White dress white roses and white wine?” She asked hopefully.

You squeezed your eyes more tightly as you heard her mention alcohol, wishing that she’d just shut up for once. You somehow still found the strength to shake your head in negative, but before your sister could say even more, the same voice continued her explanation.

“It will be a shinto wedding, they will be united before men and gods following the tradition and like we do it since aeons ago, and no stranger has their word to say.”

“I can confirm that you’ve traveled aeons with your customs under your arms. I admit that strangers don’t have their word to say from the moment the main subject is reduced to suffering through your feudal services. You’ve noticed how Satoru stayed out of this whole thing, right? And you’re joyfully taking advantage of it because he’s not here threatening to light your heads on fire one by one.”

One of the women was about to say something, probably contradicting and pretending that he’d perfectly given his consent, not doubting for even a second that him and Yuki were long-time friends. The latter lifted her finger to prevent her from doing so, keeping up the flow of her words.

“Let me tell you that he’s not happy at all, and that if my sister doesn’t get what she wants today, and now, he’ll be the one to walk through these doors next time.

And I think you already know him well enough to know that it’s better not to upset him, at least not more than he already is.” She marks a pause, giving them time to soak in the information and weight their options. “So? Ask her immediately what she wants for her wedding.” She concludes by hitting her fist on the table, after having put enough pressure on the word « her », the choice legitimately going back to the spouse, and thus a fortiori only to you.

“What do you want my child?” A third voice asks you. That was the first time when you couldn’t discern an ounce of authority or inquisition.

You’re about to calming things down, waiting for the situation to cool down so that you wouldn’t attract their wrath once the time comes by announcing that you were perfectly alright with what they had suggested, and that they had convinced you. But, having probably anticipated your reaction, Yuki cuts you by gesturing for you to shut up.

“I’ll answer for her, she will wear our mother’s white dress, they’ll exchange their vows and offer their rings.”

“That won’t be possible for the dress, it will be a kimono that she’ll have the luxury to pick. It has to be white, that goes without saying.”

The signs of a categorical refusal were starting to appear on the -so far- relaxed traits of your sister’s face, and you absolutely didn’t want to see her getting angry. So you took the reigns, to hell with what anyone thought. You didn’t know whether the story about Gojo was even real or if it were just another betting game, but you were certain that he’d cover for you anyway. He’d promised after all.

“Wait. I accept the kimono, on the condition that we replace the…the thing that we put over the head with a veil that my mother wore.”

It seemed like a good compromise, you didn’t reject their traditions, but you seasoned them with your own sauce. It was a policy that you’d better start adopting in all of your interactions with them.

The women exchanged a silent conversation through their eyes before accepting, a sigh of relief escaping from your mouth. Your mother-in-law then added one last detail.

“My son will deal with the rings, but you could accompany him if you’d like.”

You smiled at her before discretely shaking your head negatively. You were, more or less, one year away from the wedding date, but you still hadn’t found the courage to meet him, not sure if you would find the words or on the contrary, saying too much and compromising all that had yet to be built.

Your sister then got up without asking for her due, gesturing you to call her once this whole masquerade was over. And so, you end up refining what had to be refined with much more power. You could never thank your sister enough.

The memory stretches your lips, now that you thought of it, it was quite funny. Planning everything just for a madwoman to burst in with her boots and soil years of diktat, it must have been a hard pill to swallow at this moment. You’d learnt later on that your spouse had indeed a role to play, that he himself didn’t see what could possibly hold him back from causing a massacre at the time.

But you could still hear that voice, deep inside, incessantly reminding you that you were nothing but a puppet, a marionette in the hands of more powerful people. You were the one from whom they stripped freedom but it was your sister who’d fly to your rescue, like we’d rescue a birdie from the maws of a feline. You were the one who had choices imposed on her but you couldn’t stand back up, being content with watching others battle in your stead, what dragged you down ever deeper within your lethargy was a vicious cycle from which you could never escape. All the responsibilities from which your sister had run away had fallen on your shoulders: you had to protect yourself, protect your sister, protect your mother and father from a danger that wouldn’t exist if Yuki had just done what she was told. But could you even blame her when you wanted to do exactly the same?

You weren’t even sure who you should blame, yourself for being so weak, you sister for having built a life at the expense of her family, your parents who’d let her while insidiously projecting their expectations on you, or this society that had used you. You needed a culprit if you wanted to stay sane, but you couldn’t seem to find one.

This is why you’d refused to meet with Gojo during all this time, getting to know him would force you to think about your due date, about the fact that you never managed to impose your opinion, and all that you couldn’t control. About all the questions that couldn’t seem to find an answer, about the questions that stirred a falling hate that you slammed shut inside your heart. And you surpassed, you forgot, you ignored as much as you could, you went with the flow of the waves so that they wouldn’t fall on you. But deep down, you knew it, you knew that this marriage would be your downfall. You could feel that, one way or another, Gojo Satoru would be your demise.

He, who now stood in front of you: his delicate and tender wife. He gets closer and lifts up your veil, discovering the face with which he’s meant to live, the first thing he’d see in the morning and the last before sleeping. He runs his eyes through your features, blushed by a smile that you struggled to keep, and even this scarf that was supposed to cover you wasn’t enough to conceal his change of attitude. You were no longer the same person he’d been conversing with, you were no longer the one he’d seen himself talking to about everything and nothing around a good coffee. it was as though someone else had substituted for you, as though someone had replaced a young bud with a shell that threatened to break at the slightest puff of wind. No, you were already broken, reduced to smithereens by the hard truth, too hard to carry.

But he wasn’t conscious of the hidden truth behind you melancholic face, he didn’t know that while he was getting closer to you, your subconscious was writing down all your hate, all your pain towards him. And he knew even less, when his lips landed against yours, that the only thoughts going through your eyes were those of one thousand and one ways of running away.

You had spent five years trying to love this marriage.

It took five minutes for these fragile constructions to crumble down and send you back to the starting line.

It was much easier to blame others for your own weakness, wasn’t it? If only you’d had the courage to affirm yourself, not to let your fear of deceiving all those who had born all their hopes on you overwhelm you. You were condemned to make choices when the choice itself constitutes the absence of freedom, and you couldn’t bear it anymore, you were on your knees, out of breath, at the edge of the chasm of dementia, condemned to be a spectator to the people around you, them making their own decisions and writing their own stories.

“Why can’t I do it? Why them and not me?” You’d ask yourself over and over again. It may seem absurd but you couldn’t understand someone like him, spoiled by nature, arrogant and cynical, always getting what he wanted and not you, you who’d spent nights patching your own wounds, having to look at your troubled reflection soaked in tears, having to challenge and convince your body to bear with it, to forget and to find the force not to crumble down because it was still not enough…

You had, at the same time, none and all the reasons in the world to hate him, and the balance of your mind tilted dangerously towards the irrational. And that, no one would ever know, and even he wouldn’t have noticed it if he weren’t born with a head start.

During all this time, his six eyes was scrutinising you, studying every osciliation of your pupils, peeling every morsel of your skin that stretched into a smile or on the contrary, that was breaking down. And he was not dupe, he could not afford to be dupe, not when so many people jostled each other to see him dead.

And he tells himself, as he seals a marriage destined to failure with a chilly kiss, that you would be, one way or another, his downfall.

Then came the calm after the storm, he accompanied you wordlessly to your family that you sought so hard to protect, he greeted them before pretexting some foolish excuse or another before slipping away, leaving you at the arms of a comfort he’d never be close to providing.

You wanted for this moment to last eternally, you didn’t want to stop hearing the voice of your father, nor to stop feeling the warm arms of your mother, and even less to think that you’d be separated from your role model: Yuki. So you took shelter in what would soon become a memory, animated images behind your eyelids. You could almost forget about the crowd around you, your new family and your husband.

But it’s not about the calm after the storm, it’s rather about the calm before the storm. And this same storm was getting closer to you, a wicked smile stained with jealousy plastered to the face.

“All my best wishes, and here I thought you’d be canceling the wedding.”

You didn’t think, given the heavy burden already orating your shoulders, that the situation could get any worse, in a drastic way; and yet, there was a detail you’d neglected. Maybe it was due to the lack of time, lack of courage or maybe just because you knew damn well that he’d put a spoke in your wheels, but you had never put Naoya in the know.

Ever since you’d announced the news to him, he’d added a weight to the scale of your miseries because, even if it seemed to come from purely good intentions, he’d never realise the scope of the repercussions if he’d ever managed to cancel the wedding -or at least try to cancel it. Stuck between your desire to keep everything secret and to keep a semblance of control, you’d chosen the easy way, the one of cowardice, and to tell him that the wedding was called off, rather than postponed. You’d told yourself that within five years, you’d find the time to explain things to him, that you’d find the power to tell him the truth and to convince him to calmly stay put; but time had gone by way too fast, laying it on thick.

And seeing him like this made the blood freeze in your veins, your face blanching out of all its festive colors. You could feel your heart thumping, not sure why, it was beating so fast in front of him. You stretched one of your hands towards him, clutching into his arm as if your life depended on it. “Don’t leave me, please.” Your soul cried to him while your face crumpled by the minute.

“Naoya,” you try to articulate. “Let me explain-” He dragged you out of the crowd, leaving your family bathing in utter confusion.

You were overwhelmed by all the eyes staring at you, how all this must have looked unseemly for a newlywed to throw her arms at the heir of an enemy clan. But nothing mattered to you at the moment, you needed a way to patch the broken pieces of this relationship after having shattered it with your own two hands. Once away from the indiscreet eyes, he violently shoved you away, eyes full of animosity that destroyed you.

“It’s not what you think!“ of course it is !

“And what do I think?”

“That I lied to you!” That’s exactly what you did !

His eyes were turning red, every little venule roaming his globes were breaking under the adrenaline, staining red the surrounding white.

He clenched his fists, repressing the urge to crush them into your pretty face. You deserved it, and if only hitting you could appease him, you were ready to take the punch.

But he was still a man of principles, and disfiguring the wife of the most powerful sorcerer wasn’t one of them, even if he was closer to her than her own husband could ever be. Naoya admitted ,not without trouble, that he wasn’t an example. But he wasn’t that crazy; so he poured his rage on one of the beams that held up the edifice under which he’d dragged you, the impact resonated heavily in your ears.

“You lied to me-” he continued, and you knew that he was about to throw words even sharper than daggers at you.

“You deliberately made me believe that you had called off the marriage, and I even had a hunch that you weren’t capable of it. But I believed you, because I couldn’t imagine that the person that had put her life in the palm of hands so many times, would lie to me. Not to me, Tsukumo, not to me.”

He couldn’t accept the idea that you’d judge his help as being useless, him, Naoya Zenin had graciously offered his help to a lousy stranger, a good-for-nothing girl, without name or particular power. The mere fact of offering even his small finger when your life didn’t even concern him, was an enormous sprain to his pride, and the fact that you’re a woman only added fuel to an already raging inferno.

“I didn’t want to, I swear! I was overwhelmed by all the events, Naoya, you have to believe me!” You pleaded. “I never meant to hide it from you, I never wanted this to happen, I don’t love him. Lord, I don’t even know him!” You almost begged him to believe you, your voice trembling and words spewing out of your mouth uncontrollably, and the more you heard yourself talk, the more pathetic you felt. In all honesty, if you were him, no apology would be granted ; he’d only tried to lighten your burden and yet only gained lies and betrayal in return. What kind of friend were you?

“You’re a ticking bomb, you know that? A fucking bomb that threatens to explode at every second. Tic, tac, tic, tac, tic, tac-” He clicked his tongue, “-and then boom, there’ll be nothing left, neither anything of you nor of what surrounds you.”

A ticking bomb, that was exactly what you’d become. You’d spent one too many years piling things up. Years of constantly hiding in the shadow of your peers, years of constantly being forced to kowtow to the desires of others. Your sister had tried more than once to pull you out of your puppet syndrome, but it was worse than a vicious cycle. The more she repeated that you could live your life the way you wanted to, the deeper the ditch between you sunk, and the more you felt worthless, But there was still something she couldn’t do, protecting your parents by marrying Gojo Satoru. But until when? Until when would your body stay the course before tragically changing tack? Because, even though you didn’t know when, you knew that your fatum would catch up to you sooner or later.

And like the straw that breaks the camel’s back, Naoya’s hard and venomous look chipped bit of your facade by the second, the proud and composed woman that you served to people was starting to crumble under the heavy weight of reality, like a cracked urn would give in to the pressure of the liquid within. The one that had shared her days during way too many years was now drowning in her remorse, to the point of forgetting how to cry for help.

“There’s no use in crying,” he murmurs, framing your face between his thumb and forefinger. “Wipe your tears or people will talk, it’s not good for you.”

You softly sniffed, trying to compose yourself again as best as you could. Your eyes were reddened by tears that he ended up wiping off with the back of his phalanx. Not sure why, your hand wrapped his wrist, or at least what it could hold of it before burying your cheek into his palm, holding onto him like a lifeline, like the last thing that bound you to this world. When did Naoya become so important to you? Even he didn’t know, but he sure as heck planned to enjoy every last bit of it.

“I don’t blame you,” he says. “But I gotta admit that it profoundly hurt me; to know that you didn’t trust me.”

He was deliberately lying to you, the little chuckle that he failed to hide should have been hint enough, but you were too adrift for this, too shaken by the idea of having betrayed him, and having betrayed his trust; haunted by the thought of losing one of your closest friends. So you gobbled up all his says, like a poor thirty pup, without ever asking questions nor shifting your attention.

“I’m sorry.” You apologised once again, at loss for better words.

“Don’t worry about it, but you have to promise to never hide anything from me again. Think you can do that?” He asked.

You were confident enough to say that you were born with a gift, since an early age, your instincts had rarely failed you when it came to gauging others’ intentions: just one simple look and all their motives unfolded before you like an open book. And at this very moment, your sixth sense was screaming at you to refuse, to lay a pitiful excuse, not to make yet another promise of total honesty. Something’s wrong, something’s wrong, something’s wrong! Chants a voice in your head. But you were well too eaten with guilt. So without thinking much of it, you frantically nod your head, not wanting to let the smallest doubt glide over the sincerity of your intentions. You never meant to open your heart to him, at least not entirely, after all you knew better than anyone how twisted this man could be. But now that a sword of Damocles was hanging over your head, you’d rather offer him all the necessary cards to destroy you than doing it yourself. At least, it wouldn’t be your fault.

“Good,” he compliments while caressing your cheek. “Now you need to get back to your dear husband, you don’t want him thinking that you’re plotting things behind his back, right? I’m sure he’s the type to keep an eye open, who knows, he might sleep elsewhere,” he says more to himself than you. But those were just empty words, interlaced with sarcasm and hypocrisy, and without the slightest foundation.Naoya was absolutely not close to Gojo, but once you sow the grain of discord, it’s difficult to back-pedal. Whatever the case, you knew well how Gojo Satoru dealt with his enemies; and you’re well on your way to being part of the lot.

Later, when you shyly slipped your arm around Gojo, carefully rolling it around the hollow offered by his folded elbow, and despite the cordial smile that you’d exchanged, you could only wonder : was he really wary of you? What kind of relationship could be built on a basis devoid of trust? What kind of marriage would he cherish if he came in every evening expecting his wife to stab him in the back? All these thoughts only helped submerging you a little bit deeper into your perdition. All you could do now was hope for him to talk it out with you, giving you the chance to clear up any doubts soaring above his head. Should this not be the case, you were too ashamed to ever bring up the subject.

With a tad bit of perceptiveness, you might have noticed that behind his deceiving smile, your husband’s clever eyes had missed nothing of your little gateway, nothing of the fact that another man could touch you so when you wouldn’t even let him see your face. You were far from being lovebirds, but even to him who spat and stepped on everything that was to his sense archaic, couldn’t conceive that a marriage would hold out if loyalty was amiss. Would he ever come to love you? Probably never, having been a witness to it as he dug deeper into the pit separating you; that said, he’d sworn to offer you all the respect that you deserved; as a wife, a woman -for all that you must have done to survive within this macho and patriarchal society, but also and mostly as a sister. Yuki was a role model to him, an avant-gardist that had shown him that one could build their own reality in a dystopian world, and it was unconceivable for him to harm her. But could he really do it if the you threw yourself in the arms of another man on his wedding day? And not any man! He couldn’t even think about what tomorrow would have in store.

Naoya had just set foot into your marriage, and he’d sworn not to get out before having turned everything upside down. Because, even though your wedding ceremony hadn’t hurt his feelings anymore than that, you were an adult and you had the right to marry whoever you wanted -at least he tried to convince himself of this. He couldn’t say the same for his ego though, which had been greatly undermined by your little secrets. And he was sure to make you pay for it.

Even if the choice was, by definition, the absence of freedom, it didn’t make things any less fatalistic. And it wasn’t a rare sight to see people howling at liberticide basking in the consequences of their choices. But you didn’t have the luxury of being of this, you had made a chain with every link being a little lie that you’d chosen to mouth, and without noticing, you had chained yourself with it. Prisoner of your making.

You lifted your eyes one last time towards your husband, who was looking back at you with a worried face; he’d surely noticed from the robotic responses you’d given him ever since coming back that you were pondering something. Gojo takes a deep inhale before swallowing back his ego and breaking the ice that had reformed way too quickly, despite his best effort.

“Do you want to tell me something?” He didn’t want it to sound like he were asking for a confession, but his subconscious seemed to have overruled his tongue.

« I’ll never hurt you, all that I ask of you is to trust me » his comforting words played back inside your head, and you wanted to do it, to tell him what bothered you so. He’d taken a step towards you, so why not do the same? It was too early to be entirely transparent, but he deserved a little confession.

Maybe you’d just taken the best decision for the first time in a while by whispering a weak consent, letting him glimpse the expanse of your distress.

|| 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”

|| Choices // 01

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.

materlist⇥part two

“So you’re telling me that if, hypothetically, I accept marrying the infamous Gojo Satoru, my sister won’t have any more problems?”

It took you a moment to wrap your mind around what they just told you. From the top of your 19 years, you weren’t really conscious of the harsh truths surrounding you. You always thought that an exorcist’s holy grail was to be promoted to the special grade. What a surprise it was when you understood that it was but a means to keep in leash those considered too dangerous for the world.

Truth be told, from all that you’ve just been told, it was this one piece of news that hauled the biggest reaction out of you. Them, the upper class of crimes from the top of their seats, couldn’t see things from your point of view. Yuki was your big sister, your model, your family, your blood. How could they paint her into a person to be wary of, she who taught you everything, who made you the exorcist that you are today.

“Well…Tsukumo Yuki is a head to shoot down, you should be aware of that”says a voice that’s hard for you to identify. “It would be better for you and your family to be protected by the name of the most powerful exorcist, don’t you think?”

Thinking correctly was an arduous task for you, the placid flow that was your daily life would never be the same again starting today. Because even if the elders, like you liked calling them, feigned kindness, pretending that they only wanted the best for you; you could easily perceive a menacing aura hovering over your head.

You raised your head toward your interlocutors: the counsel. Their faces were hidden under some kind of curtain, cutting short any tentative to read their expressions and decipher their true intentions. Spinning from left to right, looking up and down at the white fabric, you try putting on a serene air before inhaling deeply.

“You’re telling me that my sister is a danger, but you want me to marry a man that’s even more dangerous than her? You want me to throw myself in the arms of a man that’s considered a weapon of mass destruction…I don’t believe a single word of”- you were cut short by an outcry of offended voices that you refuse to bend like a tree against the wind to their inquisitions.

“You would be perfect for him with this attitude of yours.”

“We were just discussing your eventual promotion to the special grade” continues another, hiding a threat.

If even an ounce of doubt was still lingering within you, then it has surely dissipated now. The choice offered to you was clear: accept and give up your freedom to the goodness of a perfect stranger. Or refuse and put into peril that which you cherished the most.

Youu are a smart girl, often solicited for your capacity to react swiftly, considering in no time everything that could and could not turn badly, making you a more than precious ally on the field. But in this moment right here, the cogs of your mind started to rust, unable to put one idea before another, plunging you in a frightening lethargy. You needed time to understand, and you could feel that you were short of it. You were being manipulated, for god knows what reason, and it seemed like you had nothing else to say back.

“Well then, you reply. I’ll inform you of my decision as soon as possible.”

“Tomorrow.”cuts off a crackling feminine voice, hinting at the age of its owner.

You shake your head slowly from left to right, hoping that it would, maybe, pull you out of this phantasmagory of which you’re the actress. You felt your fists tighten, canalizing your emotions in a way that would prevent you from spilling words that would cost you more than you could afford to lose. You slowly turn your heels, without answering, without a last glance and before you could even realize it, your legs were leading you far from this place, leaving behind a pack of hounds debating on wether you would accept or not. Your fate was sealed, the film of your nightmare starting to smoothly untangle in front of your eyes.

Once outside, you turn around toward the building that sheltered the counsel. From here, it looked like a little hut in the middle of a forest, protected -or rather camouflaged by a barrier set by master Tengen. You slowly lean against one of the surrounding trees, letting your head fall against the trunk and granting your eyes some rest. What were you going to do? Your parents weren’t young anymore, you were the only one left in the household. Everything always depended on you, on your missions, on your presence; your house was pulled out of the gloominess that was the daily life of exorcists, thanks to your jokes, your goofiness, your clumsiness, your anectodes. You didn’t come back home grumbling anymore -because a certain Zenin would forget too often that you weren’t his maid, you didn’t come back home from your outings with Utahime. Now that you thought about it, wasn’t it actually him that made her grumble?

A little smile pulled at the corner of your lips, you knew that Gojo had a reputation as an inveterate seducer, and for having seen him before, you could easily understand why. How many women would be ready to sell their souls to the devil to be in your place? You knew it, you knew damn well, and yet a little pinch at your heart prevented you from seeing even an infinitesimal gleam within what was just announced to you.

You were pulled out of your reflections by stepping noises in the grass, getting closer and closer to you. You slowly turn your head in the direction of the sound to see a slender silhouette, blond, a helmet under their arm.

“So, what kind of mission did they try to slap on you? Saving the world from an extraterrestrial creature? Bringing back a piece of the moon? Or maybe…put off a fire on Mars! More seriously, these people here can be total nuts sometimes!”

“I’m going to get married.”

Yuki froze for a few seconds, seconds that felt like hours to you, before going into a hysterical laughter, not imagining for one second that what you just said could contain even an ounce of truth. But her laugh soon let place to worry when she saw your expression flinching, crying at her that it was absolutely not a joke.

“Oh no…They wouldn’t dare. She said. And with who? The pope’s son?”

“Gojo Satoru.”

“Gojo Satoru?”

“Gojo Satoru.”

“I heard you the first time, you know. But…how? Why him? If he wanted to marry you he would simple have told me instead of going through a bunch of old decrepit. Also, last time I checked, he didn’t really like them. And since when do you two know each other?”

The look you just threw at your sister answered her questions quick enough. You didn’t personally know him, and you knew absolutely nothing of the circumstances that led to this decision. The only thing that you could be sure of was that one way or another, people, whoever they were, had something to gain from you being married, or that Gojo was. You never represented any danger to anyone, you were subordinate, you never disputed orders and you were useful in what you did, there was no apparent reason for you to make a U-turn. However, you couldn’t say as much for Gojo, something indirectly confirmed by your sister’s words. He was probably becoming uncontrollable, rebelling and challenging the word of people who always had, for very long years, their hands wrapped around the decisions of this world. But what’s a marriage, with a girl who didn’t even come from a notorious family, going to change? That was what you couldn’t get.

“In my opinion, he’s probably unaware of this. Gojo isn’t the type to…you know, commit. I don’t think it’s serious.”

“They didn’t look like they were joking.”

“You should talk to him-“

“No, absolutely not. If these people want to play marriage agencies then they might as well carry it to the end.” You replied, seeming way too indifferent about the situation. Yuki was even wondering if you were aware of what was expected of you.

You didn’t want to meet him, and even if you were to accept it, you would only see him once it was inevitable: your honeymoon. For now, it was just hot air, nothing serious. Or at least it won’t be unless you give your final answer. Meeting him would make things too official, and that scared you.

“Listen, we’ll talk about this at home. Or around a drink, look at that! My lil’ sis is now of drinking age.”

Yuki extends her hand toward you, caressing your forearm with the tip of her fingers. Maybe one day, you won’t get the privilege to any of this tenderness, this affection. Reality was catching up to you, and with it a river of tears comes surging, reddening your eyes. You weren’t ready for all of this, you weren’t even twenty and yet you were stripped of all that was yours. Your sister notices that, then pulls you against her, your head barely reaching the space between her throat and shoulder. Your cheek was plastered against her skin in such an intimate contact that you could easily feel her beating heart. Her carotid rhythmically pulsing the blood, beating against you, following a calm and regular rhythm whereas your heart slowly started to race. Maybe your body’s reaction was quicker than your mind, was that a sign? Was it mother nature yelling at you to run before it was too late ?

A warm and gentle hand pulls you out of your thoughts as it lodges in your hair, caressing it from the top to the tips in the same steady timing. Now that you think of it, Yuki has always been a very steady person in her actions. It made you think about the way that people imagined her, and how they could be so wrong. To them, she was a reckless woman, an adult child, a person in possession of great power over which she’d never take responsibility. But you, you knew that it wasn’t her. Yuki never left anything to chance, each calorie she spent was calculated, consumed in a specific goal. And even if she never had been clear on the reasons which led her to take off, claiming an untamable desire to discover the world, you knew, deep down, that there was something she was trying to hide from the world.

“It’d be best if we went back home, I need to announce all of this to mom and dad.”

“What are you planning to do?” She asked while leading you toward the bike.

“I don’t know, I have until tomorrow to give them an answer on what might be the most important decision in my whole life, these guys are insane!”

You abruptly lift your arm in the air, showcasing your frustration, which can only make the blondie laugh as she puts a helmet over your head, covering your eyes along the way, stretching along with it your lips into a little rictus whilst you climb behind her on the motorbike.

As per usual, whenever you ride together, you’d pinch her sides from time to time, and she’d answer with a grumble even if it didn’t bother her; a bunch of little habits that made up your intimacy and complicity with her.

Once home, Yuki turns off the motor but decides against coming down right away. Instead, she puts one foot on the ground to maintain her stance then bares her head, letting the wind play with her blonde mane. She stays there, frozen for a moment, before sighing, searching for the best words, which was totally unlike her.

“I have a little idea on what they’ll tell you, keep your chin up. If you don’t want to then you don’t want to.”

You simply nod your head before putting your hand on the door’s handle, taking a deep inhale. You were going to need some courage as to not spill everything you were told; your parents didn’t need to know what was being said about Yuki. They were proud of her, and never worried about her. As long as it lasts.

You had barely taken off your shoes that your mother already threw herself at you, hugging you to the verge of tears. Your eldest threw a confused look at you while your father came close with a bouquet in hands.

“You should have told us that you had a boyfriend! His family came straight from Tokyo to announce the news.”

You almost choked as you heard what they just said, you had no boyfriend. Your mind immediately imagined a bad joke orchestrated by Naoya in order to embarrass you, knowing all the discipline you showed in front of your family. Or to simply, or rather in the most perverted manner, remind you tha what was expected of a woman was to found a home and then toward the kitchen. But Naoya wasn’t from Tokyo, his family wasn’t either. Could it be that…

“Gojo! Your mother articulates between two sobs. The name would fit you so well! Your dad is right, you should have told us. You can imagine our surprise when we saw them at the door! They look incredibly kind.”

“And rich!”

“Dad! Come on…Yuki throws in.”

Him and your mother exchanged a little knowing smile, while you and your sister tried to stay cool before this revelation, this name resonating like a gong between your ears.

You let yourself get dragged to the living room while your mind wandered somewhere else, at the bottom of a trench in your head. You, who had always risked your life for this society, were nothing more than a marionette to his eyes. Alright, one shouldn’t generalize, nor put the blame on people you knew neither by identity nor by face. You knew perfectly well, but can you not hate the whole world when you were being manipulated without scruples. You threw a look full of reproach toward your sister who, just earlier, was trying to convince you that Satoru had nothing to do with this story. She simply shrugged her shoulders, not knowing what to say.

“So, what did you tell them exactly?” Your sister asked while she sitting on a chair, facing the backrest, legs spread open.

“Well, we told them that the final word was in the hands of the involved party. They can’t wait to meet you, your boyfriend must have told them a lot of good things about you for them to come all the way here.” Your mother throws in her supposition while sitting beside you on the sofa with you resting your head on her shoulder, almost unconsciously, gaze lost faraway.

“I don’t doubt it for even a second.” Sarcasm dripping from your words.

“The Gojo clan is a very traditional family, I’m surprised they accepted that their son, who is the little star of the circus, would welcome someone like her within his family: a commoner. They said nothing about this?” Yuki wonders aloud, she clearly had an idea cooking.

“Oh, right they mentioned this problem, at first they weren’t thrilled by the idea, and then the power of love convinced them. Isn’t that cute?. She replied.

This whole farce was breaking your heart. You never saw your mother so happy, her eyes gleaming, her facial muscles were probably paining her from all this smiling. She had lost the hope to one day see her first daughter have a stable life, a husband, children…all of this wasn’t for Yuki. She had then, maybe, unconsciously repressed all of her hopes of seeing a family growing on you. You wanted to tell her the truth, to tell her that all of this was a lie, that this man wasn’t what he seemed to be; spitting out all that the counsel had revealed to you. But you could simply not move your lips.You father waved the bouquet of flowers your way to catch your attention. His face was a tad bit red, he probably didn’t expect things to go this way, he must have been both embarrassed and honored that people from such a good family would come knock at their door. You even started wondering at what moment exactly did they manage to make you forget that your life wasn’t marrying a rich heir, or a renowned exorcist. Apparently, in your case, it was a perfect mix of the two.

“I suppose that you’re going to accept?”

« Do I really have a choice » was what you wanted to respond. You felt the heavy gaze of your sister weighing down on you, a gaze that yelled at you to say no and to make yourself, for once in your dam life, come first before others. But she knew you you well enough to know that if she meddled in, you’d probably never forgive her. So you did what you could do best, always reproducing the same pattern.

“Of course, why would I refuse?”You replied, trying to look as happy and content as you could.

Your choice was made, your fate forever tied to that of the most powerful exorcist in the world. You felt like you had, with your own hands, written the your name to the pantheon of cowards by giving the right to perfect strangers to decide of your life, to write the lines of a romance that you’ll probably never know.

You smiled, feigning some kind of distorted happiness while your heart was torn inside your chest. You were hurting yourself, destroying yourself with your own hands. Your father noticed your uneasiness through your facade then asked you what was wrong. You answered simply that your day had been extremely long and that the news of this marriage proposal had moved you. You kiss your mother’s forehead one last time before retiring to your room, letting your sister take care of keeping them company, and hearing them throw roses at the Gojo clan.

Once confined in your intimacy, you finally let yourself crumble down. You no longer held in the tears that are currently flowing down your cheeks. You unconsciously brought your hand to your heart, grasping tightly in your fist as much flesh as you could hold. You never felt such intense pain in your life. Your heart was in pieces, and every second that passed weighed on your conscience, your honor tarnished, yourself neglected, and your life spoiled, without even knowing why. One thing was sure, you’d never forgive Gojo Satoru for having ruined your life.

You made the choice of marrying him. But you also chose to make him regret, till your last breath, to have imposed himself in your life.

Pairing : Gojo x reader

Genre: Heavy angst, Mild Smut.

Warnings : unrequited love, arranged marriage, manipulation, minor character’s death, and more to add. Read with proper discretion < 3

↳ 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||

↳00➞01➞02➞03 ➞ 04 ➞ 05 ➞ to be added.

Author’s note :

Sooooo, yeah. I’ve been rooting for gojo for a while now and this kinda happened. Your feedbacks really help me through the whole process so please feel free to empty your mind, I’m always receptive. Also, big thank you to @tawus who has been adamant on giving the greatest pieces of advice, ily girl <3

Overall thank you for reading, and I hope you’re enjoying reading as much as I’m enjoying writing the story !!

First written in French, translated by the amazing @deadpanap

|| Choices. (Prologue)

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 one

“You know damn well that you don’t have to do this, lil’ sis. The trips, running away from missions, all of that, I like it! You should stop listening to each and every word our parents say” says your eldest, leaning by the doorframe of the room that used to be yours for twenty long years.

“Yuki…I’m not worried about you, they’re in danger too. Every person that’s cross with you would know exactly where to hit, I’m sure that just the name alone -Gojo- would be enough to dissuade them. It’s just a wedding, an alliance, also he doesn’t seem all that terrible; we might hit it off.”

With this, you close your luggage. You hadn’t decided to bring much with you: some clothes, photos of your family and some of your friends. You never had any attachment, living your life as though you were its omniscient narrator: so present yet so far away. That was part of the reason why you couldn’t see this marriage as a drama anymore , you didn’t intend to make any emotional investment. You would promise faithfulness, obedience and descendants to your spouse, in exchange he would offer you protection and safety. It was as though life was offering you a chance to live a fairy tale.

However, the choices that we’re led to make in life don’t always turn out well, and you would have to learn that the hard way. Finally, maybe you should 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. Maybe you shouldn’t have underestimated your marital responsibilities.

Because after all, the most beautiful tales are those with the most tragic endings.

quanxis-bitch:

Hairstyle buddies ✨

Now be a good boy, Naoya.

Hope y’all enjoy this!

He looks like he’s chewing gum in these three