#they are very important to me and I'm tired of the hate | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whatsk-poppinhomies · 7 months

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Pairing : Dad!Bangchan x F!Reader TW : Chans daughter is not readers child ; Chans ex wife and daughter are shit starters ; drama of course ; angsty ; honestly, poor Chan ; fluffy ending though ; slightly suggestive at the end as well ; Word Count : 6.5k Request : Anonny : Please write an angsty / fluffy fic about Dad!chan who, after years of not dating, finally decides to get back into dating & when he finally finds someone he doesn't tell reader he has a teenage daughter because he doesn't know how reader would feel about it but when reader finds out they're really upset and avoid him and his daughter reaches out to reader and convinces reader to talk to Chan and make up because she hates seeing her dad upset. A/N : This request is so cute and I'm so happy I get to write it. Of course, it will be super drama because I love when it happens, and with Chans recent bbl messages we know this man loves this kind of shit, so... This is for Chan and Chan stans and we love Chan!

“I got a call from your teacher today, Ella.” Chan said as his daughter walked through the front door. “They said your grades haven’t been the best lately, that you haven’t been focusing in class. Is something wrong? Do you have something going on?” He didn’t want to be the kind of father that always got on his child when their grades were below average, but he also didn’t want his daughter to flunk out. He wanted to see her be successful and happy in life, that’s all he ever wanted.

“I’ve just been going through some stuff, dad.” Ella mumbled as she kicked her shoes into the corner near the front door and dropped her bags onto the floor. “Mom said she’s been trying to get in touch with you lately. I guess she saw that you’ve been posting about going out on your facebook.” She pulled out the chair across the table from Chan. “Why don’t I get to meet your new girlfriend?”

Chan rolled his eyes, finally looking up from his phone to look at his daughter. “You’re changing the subject. What I do in my spare time isn’t important. Your grades are. So tell me, what kind of stuff have you been going through that’s been keeping you from being able to focus. Maybe I can help.”

She huffed loudly, the attitude that he was warned would come along with a teenage daughter was in full force now. “It’s not even important anyway… Don’t you have a date to go on tonight? That’s all you ever talk about anymore. It’s like you don’t even care that mom left…” It was finally making sense to him, but it hurt that she felt that way. He had been kind enough to keep his ex wife’s dirty secrets just that, a secret, so that Ellas view of her mother wouldn’t be warped. He was trying to do the right thing, but it was becoming harder and harder.

“I do care that your mother left… I was hurt by it for a long time, El. It’s been 8 years, and I think that it’s time that I’ve finally moved on because she isn’t coming back. Your mother has gotten remarried, divorced, and married again in those 8 years and I haven’t been with anyone until just a few months ago. I don’t think you’re being very fair right now.” He tried to explain, but he could tell, he could just see it in her face that she wasn’t ready to hear about it. “And, just so you know, I don’t have a date to go on tonight. I was planning on being here to help you with your homework and studying so that I don’t get another call like I had today.”

///

“Had a late night in the studio, huh?” You said as you walked up behind Chan, your arms draping over his shoulders as he sat in front of his computer in his office. You could tell he was tired, he could barely sit up straight and his eyes wouldn’t stay open for longer than a few seconds. “It’s okay to take a break, bubs. It’s 3racha, not ChrisRacha.”

He snickered at the little name, finally swiveling his chair around to face you and pulling you down onto his lap. “You sound like everyone else. I don’t like taking breaks, it gives me too much time to think about the time that I’m wasting.” He explained, his voice was groggy and not even laced, but completely filled with exhaustion. “I’ll be fine once I go over your place tonight, we can cuddle up and watch a movie.” He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his hot breath against your skin sending a wave of goosebumps all over.

“They’re repainting all of the apartments, I can’t even go into my own house right now. I’ve been staying with my parents.” You reminded him, although you were sure you had texted him about it and told him about it in the days leading up to the renovation. “We can go over to your place. We’ve been dating for 4 months now and you haven’t even invited me over.”

There was a reason for that, a reason that you didn’t know of, but he felt it was just better if you didn’t find out. The last thing he wanted was for you to run off because he had a daughter, not just any daughter though, a teenage daughter who was still hung up on the divorce of her parents. She wasn’t the easiest to get along with, and although Chan had tried to butter her up to the prospect of one day meeting you, she didn’t take too kindly to the fact that he was dating again. “My place is a mess…” He lied, trying to muffle his words in the fabric of your shirt so you wouldn’t pick up on it. “We can go to a hotel if you’d like.”

“That seems sleezy…” You mumbled, and he felt awful, he truly did. It felt like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He absolutely loves his daughter with every ounce of his heart, his entire being, he loved being her father. He loved you too though, you had been the light at the end of a very long, very dark tunnel. He didn’t want to have to choose between the two of you, it just didn’t seem fair. “I guess we’ll just wait for my apartment to be ready…” He could feel you trying to pull away, he could tell that you were upset, he didn’t want you to leave like that, so he tightened his arms around you, holding you close to him.

“You’re not sleezy! I’m sorry I even recommended that, you’re better than that.” He quickly tried to get himself out of the hole that he had dug, it felt like he was clawing his way to the top, and everytime he got halfway out, he’d slip and he’d fall right back to the bottom. “I’ll clean my place, I just want it to be perfect for when you come over. Okay? You deserve the best.”

The tension slowly left your body, he felt you soften up against him, and for a moment, it felt like he could breathe again. “Okay… Fine. I’ll wait… I just really miss sleeping next to you.” You whispered, and those words made his stomach feel warm and fuzzy. He missed sleeping next to you too. “I have to get back to work though… I’ll see you later. Try taking a break though, take a nap or something, that’s what the couch is for.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek before getting up, his arms reluctantly loosening around you until you were free to go. “Seriously, get some sleep.”

///

“Where are you going?” Ella asked from the couch, watching Chan storm to the front door and yank his coat off the hook. “Did you and your girlfriend get into a little fight? Do you have to go kiss and make up now?” The mocking tone in her voice would usually only slightly irritate him, but he was already beyond irritated at the reason he had to leave in the first place.

“No, it’s your damn mother.” He snapped, pulling his shoes on before grabbing his keys. “I don’t know how long she’ll hold me up, there’s food in the freezer, or you can grab my wallet out of my bag and order yourself something. Try to do some studying while I’m gone, please?” And without another word he was out the front door, slamming it behind him.

What Chan didn’t know was that he had left his wallet at work on his studio desk, and you had gone into his studio before leaving to see if he was there but only found his wallet. He must have left the building without saying anything to you, and you wondered if maybe he was sick or something had happened back at his place. You were doing the right thing, at least that’s what you felt you were doing. You were just going to take his wallet home to him and check up on him. You didn’t mind that his house might be a little dirty, you completely understood that he was busy, you didn’t expect his house to be immaculate.

You weren’t sure why you were so nervous to stand in front of his front door, but a chill ran through your body and you had to take a few breaths before even lifting your hand to knock. Once you did, you took a step back, listening to the locks being undone before the door opened. It wasn’t who you expected to see, it wasn’t Chan, it was a girl, she looked younger, at least 15 or 16. “Oh, I’m sorry. I must have read the address wrong.” You quickly apologized, bowing your head to the girl before turning away.

“Who are you looking for?” The girl asked, and what you weren’t aware of was that she had seen Chans wallet in your hand, she knew that you had come to the right address, she was just playing a game that you didn’t know about. You quickly said his name, and she let out a soft hum. “He’s out right now. It’s date night for him and my mom.” You felt your stomach sink, deeper and deeper until it couldn’t go any further. “Is that his wallet? Thank you so much for bringing it, I’m sure he’ll be happy to know that you brought it back. Hopefully he’ll answer his phone so he can pick it up and pay the bill, you know?”

You nodded slowly, the bile from your stomach rising into your throat. “Y-Yeah… Of course… H-Here you go.” You stammered, your hand shaking as you handed the wallet over to the girl. You knew she wasn’t lying, she looked so much like Chan it was uncanny. Why hadn’t he told you? What was he even doing with you? He had a wife, or at least a girlfriend or fiancee… He had a child… But he was going around with you? It was beginning to add up though… Why he always wanted to go over your house. Why he’d rather go to a hotel than to bring you to his own place. You felt absolutely sick.

“Have a good night!” The girl chimed cheerfully as you made your way back to your car, the light from inside the house that had illuminated the front yard faded until you were covered in darkness. You were devastated, you were heartbroken… You had never felt more humiliated in your life and all you wanted to do was go crawl underneath a rock and hide there.

///

The meeting with his ex wife the night before had stressed Chan out beyond belief. He couldn’t believe that after 8 years she wanted to fight for custody of Ella now. Her reasoning behind it would have been laughable if they hadn’t been so damn ridiculous. By the time he had gotten home though, Ella was already in bed and he was so tired from dealing with his ex that he had gone right to bed as well. By morning, Ella had already left for school, so he’d have to wait until he got off work and she got home from school to even talk to her about what her mother had said.

Now, he was only looking forward to seeing you. You were the only person at this point who could calm him down and bring him some semblance of peace, at least for the short amount of time that he got to be with you. “Hey, lovely.” He called to you when he caught you walking down the hall. Usually you’d smile and wave, you’d even run over to him sometimes if the hall was empty. This time you just shook your head before lowering it and walking right by him.

It was a shock to say the least, and his mind immediately jumped to the worst, although he couldn’t be 100% sure of what had happened that would cause you to be acting like this. Was it because of the hotel comment the day before? Was it because he wouldn’t let you come over to his house? It couldn’t be that though, he had talked to you about it. It had to be something more, but he couldn’t figure it out. You looked absolutely pissed, like you didn’t want anything to do with him.

“Y/N!” He called out your name now, jogging down the hall to catch up with you, but you didn’t even look up at him, and you sure as hell didn’t slow down. In fact, it seemed like you sped up, like you were trying to get away from him. “Hey… What… What’s wrong? What happened? Are you okay?” He lowered his voice but quickened his steps to keep up with you, trying to duck down just enough to get a view of your face, but every time he got close enough you’d look away.

“I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t want to see you. Whatever it was that you made me think we had, it’s over. I’d like it if you left me alone now.” You stated flatly, your arms tightening around the multitude of folders that you clutched to your chest. “I’m changing groups, I won’t be one of your staff anymore as well, so please, don’t bother me anymore.”

Something had happened, and it wasn’t something that could easily be fixed like Chan thought. It was worse, way worse. You had basically fired yourself from being his group's staff because of whatever happened. “Hold on!” His fingers wrapped around your upper arm, stopping you from going any further. “So you’re just… Breaking up with me? You’re not even going to tell me why!?” His voice cracked as it rose in pitch, his chest rising and falling heavily as the panic fully set in. “I fucking love you, Y/N… You can’t just do this to me and not tell me why.”

When you finally looked up, he could see your eyes were glistening, your bottom lashes bedazzled with twinkling tears that clung onto them. You were just as upset as he was. “Stop pretending, Christopher!” You croaked out, sniffling loudly once the words left your chapped lips. “I refuse to be the rebound chick that you think you can run to when your marriage is on the rocks. I won’t be strung along by you, not anymore.” You took a few deep, shaky breaths to compose yourself before you pulled your arm free of Chans hold. “Now, if you don’t mind… I have another group to meet. I have work to do. I do believe that you have some work to do as well.” You bowed your head to him before turning and walking away, leaving him more confused than he was before.

His marriage… It had fallen apart years ago when he had come home to find his wife in bed with another man while his daughter was fast asleep in the room across the hall. It had been disgusting, heartbreaking, it would have been his downfall if not for his daughter and the moral, mental, and emotional support of the guys. He wasn’t sure why it was being brought up, he didn’t even know how you had found out, but that same feeling of devastation that he had felt 8 years ago was flooding him once again.

The guys… They were the only ones who would be able to talk to you, they were the only ones who knew about the secret past that Chan was trying so hard to hide from you. Would they do something like that though? Would they hurt him like that? “Yo! What’s up?” Changbin said as he came up behind Chan, his arm draping over his shoulder. “You’re… crying? What happened?” The cheerful tone was immediately dropped, and even though Changbin was younger, he was in full protection mode.

“Y/N… She… She broke up with me…. She knows about Sana…” He gasped out the words, each of them getting caught in his throat, it felt like he was choking. “Somebody told her… Someone… They had to have told her! Who!?” He was shouting now, his sadness turning to anger in a matter of seconds. The look of confusion of Changbins face was enough for Chan to know that he had no idea what Chan was talking about, and that in itself proved his innocence. That left 6 more guys to question.

“Y-You know that none of us would do that to you… Why would we do that? You were happy!” Changbin quickly defended the others as well, seeing in Chans eyes that he was on the warpath and he wasn’t going to stop until he found out who had told you. “I… I do know she went to the studio last night after you left… She… She said something about your wallet but… Maybe she went to your house to drop it off and… and…-”

“Ella…” Chan muttered out the name, a loud groan leaving him as his head fell back. “I have to go… Will you be okay? Can you run practice for me?” Now he was in a hurry, a hurry to get home, to talk to you… He had so many things he had to do, he didn’t even know where to begin. Changbin nodded his head, patting Chans shoulder before taking a step back. Truthfully, Chan didn’t know what the hell he was going to do… But he knew he had to do something. He wasn’t going to lose you… He couldn’t.

///

“Sit. Now.” Chan said, not even giving his daughter time to fully come through the door before the words left his mouth. He had been sitting at the table, thinking over and over about how he’d go about bringing it up to her, but now that she was finally home, all of his thoughts had gone out the window and all he could feel was irritation. She rolled her eyes, dropping off her bag and kicking her shoes off like she did every day, heading in the direction of her bedroom. “Did you not hear me? I want to talk to you.”

“About what?” She snapped, whipping around to face him. “About the lady that showed up on our front porch last night?” Chans eyes widened, he didn’t even have to drag it out of her, she wasn’t a liar… and for that, he was proud, he had at least taught her one good thing. “Did she dump you? Well good… You don’t deserve to be happy. Not after what you did to mom…” After… what he did…? He was stunned into silence, his head cocked to the side as he tried to think about what he could have possibly done to make him the bad guy in all of this. “She told me all about it, don’t try to act like you’re so innocent.”

Those weren’t Ellas words, those were her mothers words and she was speaking them for her. “I tried so hard to protect your mother for some reason… So that you wouldn’t think badly of her… And this is what she does.” He mumbled, running his hand through his hair and sighing heavily. “Can you please sit? I really need to talk to you…” He stretched his legs under the table, pushing out the chair across from him and motioning to it with his head. He could see the reluctance, but she finally made her way over, dropping down into the chair, but not without an eye roll and a look of disgust. “I didn’t want to tell you the truth… I didn’t want you to see your mother as anything less than what she is… But I wasn’t the one who did anything. Your mother is the reason we’re divorced…”

“You’re a liar… She said that you’d lie…” Ella mumbled, her arms crossing over her chest as she glared at her father. “Just like you lied to that lady. She didn’t even know I existed! You kept me a secret from her… Why? Are you embarrassed of me? Are you ashamed of me?” The sulky teenage attitude subsided, and he could see that she wasn’t just angry, she was upset. He never meant for it to be like this, he didn’t even think that something like this would happen. It’s not like he planned on keeping his daughter hidden forever… He just didn’t want to spring it all on you at the beginning of the relationship.

“No! God, no… El… You are an amazing daughter, you’re smart and you’re funny… You’re the most wonderful thing I’ve ever created. I’m so proud of you…” He whispered, and he could see the tears beginning to form in her eyes. He should have told her these things a long time ago, maybe she wouldn’t be acting out, but it was too late, and now all he could do was try to fix things piece by piece. “I didn’t want to bring someone into your life unless I knew that it was serious… It’s one thing for me to be hurt… But I didn’t want you to potentially get close to her just for her to leave and hurt you too.” He swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath to prepare himself before continuing. “I divorced your mother… Because she cheated on me, Ella. Do you really think I would have gotten custody of you if it were the other way around? The man she married… That’s… That’s the guy… And they’re already divorced… And she’s already married again. She’s been married twice since the divorce, and I… I haven’t been with anyone until a couple months ago. Do you think that would be the case if I was the one who had screwed up?” He could see the gears turning in her mind as she thought about everything that he was saying, and he could see that it was all adding up. “Your mother wanted to meet up with me yesterday because she’s trying to get custody of you…”

Ellas eyes widened and her head shook fast. “No… I don’t… I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to live with her, dad.” The words were rushed out, full fledged panic written across her features. “Don’t let her take me… I want to stay with you… I’m sorry… I’m sorry I told the lady that you were having date night with mom. I’m sorry that I ruined it… I’m sorry… Please don’t let her take me.” She was crying now, absolutely bawling, and it broke his heart to see his daughter so upset.

He jumped out of his chair, running around to her side of the table and pulling her up into his arms. Right now, she wasn’t just a teenager with a bit of an attitude problem… She was his little girl, and he was going to protect her and he was going to keep her safe. He was going to fix everything, no matter what it took. “She’s not going to get you, she won’t win. You’re staying here with me… I promise.”

///

“Have you gotten a hold of her?” Ella asked, dropping down onto the couch beside her father. It had been weeks since the last time he had spoken to you, but he had seen you in the halls at the building every single day. No matter how many times he tried to stop you and explain everything, you’d just keep walking like you didn’t know him at all. Ella could see that it was breaking him, and she knew that it was her fault. “I’m really sorry, dad…” She mumbled.

Your picture was still his lockscreen, and every time a notification would pop up on his phone he would jump up, a single second of excitement and wishful thinking, only to be let down once he realized it was someone, anyone but you. “It’s okay… I’m gonna try to get some work done. Let me know when you get hungry, I’ll make us some dinner, yeah?” And she nodded slowly, waiting for Chan to get up and go into his little office before running to the front door and pulling on her shoes. If he wasn’t able to fix it, maybe she could.

The walk to the building wasn’t too far, and she knew that, for the most part, whenever her father went into his office it was so he could cry in private. That usually lasted a couple hours, and she was sure that she wouldn’t need too much time.

Everyone in the building knew her, they had heard so much about Chans daughter that she was looked at as an idol herself. They all welcomed her warmly, but she was on a mission. “Hi! Would you happen to know where an Y/L/N Y/N is? My dad sent me to make sure she got something.” She came up with it quickly, and no one seemed to question it either. They gave her the information just as fast and sent her on her way… It was far too easy… She’d have to talk to her dad about that.

The ride up the elevator gave her enough time to think about what she would say, or at least a little bit of what she’d say. Truth be told, she was nervous. She wanted things to go well for her fathers sake, but she knew that the trouble she had caused and what she did could have irreversible damage.

When the doors slid open, it was like fate had brought her here at this exact moment, because you were standing right outside the doors. “Oh… Uhm… I-I remember you…” You murmured, bowing your head to her before taking a step back. “I think you’re on the wrong floor though… Your father is a couple floors down.”

Ella shook her head, stepping out of the elevator, trying to look like she wasn’t a nervous wreck standing in front of you. “I’m here to talk to you.” She said, her head held high just to exemplify the false feeling of confidence that she was trying to give off. “Are you busy?”

“I’m very sorry if me being with your father created any problems. I’m not with him anymore though… And, with all due respect… I’m just trying to move on.”

“That’s the problem though!” Ella blurted out as you moved past her and stepped into the elevator, turning around quickly on her heel to face you, her hand pressed against the elevator door to keep it from closing. “Him and my mother aren’t together… They haven’t been together for 8 years. I… I was upset because… I didn’t understand what happened… I didn’t know why my parents weren’t together and… My mom lied and… And I’m sorry. My dad really loves you… And he wanted me to meet you… And he’s been crying every night because I ruined your relationship because I lied just like my mom and I’m… I’m really sorry, ma’am…”

She was once again crying, and you didn’t really know what to do, but it felt wrong to just stand there and watch her cry, so you hesitantly stepped out of the elevator and gave her the most awkward one armed hug. “It’s… It’s okay…” You murmured, and much to your surprise, she turned her body completely toward you and wrapped her arms around you. Whether there was a maternal bone in your body at all before this moment or not, you immediately felt the urge to comfort her, to make sure she was okay, to wipe her tears and tell her that everything would be fine. “Hey… Hey, let’s go to my office. We can get a drink and some tissues and then… I’ll take you home. Is that okay?”

Ella nodded slowly, her face scrunched up and her bottom lip pushed out. She really did look like her father. “Will you talk to him?” She asked weakly, and as much as you hated him… Now that you knew the truth… It felt like the right thing to do, so you hummed in agreement to her question, leading her down the hall to your little office and pushing the door open for her. “Y-You know… You’re still his main picture on his phone. He’s waiting for you to text him or call him or something… He misses you so much.”

You were sure that she didn’t mean to tell you so much, and you were very sure that Chan would be incredibly embarrassed if he found out that his daughter was telling you so much. “I’ll talk to him, I promise… Pinky promise.” You held out your hand, your pinky extended to her, and she quickly latched her finger around yours, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips.

“You are really pretty… He wasn’t lying… And you’re really nice too. I would be really mad at me if I were you…” She lowered her head, her entire body slouching forward as she sat in the chair across your desk. “Why aren’t you mad at me?” Her voice was below a whisper, her question genuine, and you didn’t really know how to answer it.

“Well…” You began, your fingers drumming against your lap as you leaned back in your chair. “I don’t blame you for what you did… You’re a child and… And your parents divorced. I’m sure that any child would be upset if they found out either of their parents was dating someone else, especially if the kid doesn’t understand why their parents divorced in the first place. You were protected from the truth… But it made you do something that you regret. It’s still not your fault though, it’s no one's fault.” You reached across your desk, your hand faced up for her, and she slowly placed her hand in yours, the smile from earlier returning to her face, but this time it was just a little bigger and it reached her eyes. “Let’s go see your dad, yeah?”

///

Chan had at some point cried himself to sleep while sitting in front of his computer, but the sound of a soft knock on the door had him jolting awake. “Dad?” Ellas voice came between the small crack in the door as she peeked inside, and he quickly wiped the sleep from his eyes as he got up from his chair, almost bringing his entire laptop with him since he forgot to take the headphones off. “I ordered dinner for us… It’s here.” She said between little giggles at the way he stumbled. It was nice to hear her laugh, he hadn’t heard it in a bit, not from anyone in the house. He wondered what had changed.

“You didn’t have to do that, I would have cooked for us…” He said somberly, but he knew that she was doing it as a favor for him. He was a wreck, it was visibly noticeable that he hadn’t had more than a few hours of sleep in the past two weeks, he had bags under his eyes and his hair was a mess. He was a shell of the man that he once was when he had you, but he knew he had to get better, he wasn’t sure how he would do that, but it wasn’t fair to Ella to constantly be like this, it would only make her feel more guilty. “I’ll be right out… Thank you.” He said when she hovered in the doorway, and he watched her walk away. There was a bounce in her step, she hadn’t been this peppy in a while. He was genuinely curious and now he was rushing out of the little studio room so that he’d be able to sit down and talk to her, maybe he could find out what was going on.

“I hope you don’t mind, I brought a friend over.” She said from the kitchen. He was adamant that he had never heard her bring up a friend, especially not one that would come over and visit. Was it a boy? She never mentioned liking anyone at school… Was she too scared to talk to him about those kinds of things? He made a mental note to sit down and talk to her about it one day this week. “Are you coming?” She called out and he hummed in agreement, trudging out of the little room with his head hung just a little.

This wasn’t the first impression that he wanted one of his daughter's friends to have of him as her father. He wanted to look more respectable for the sake of Ellas reputation. It seemed like he didn’t really have a choice though, she was rushing him to come out, and he didn’t want to keep her and whoever she had over waiting. “I apologize, I wasn’t really told that you’d be coming over.” Chan began as he walked down the hall, and he completely froze when he saw just who his daughter had brought over.

“I don’t think anyone really knew I was coming over.” You said lightly, the warmest smile spreading across your face as you looked at him. He couldn’t say anything, he couldn’t find words, all he could manage to do was open his mouth and croak out sounds as salty tears pricked his eyes. “Is it… okay… that I’m here?” You asked when the silence lasted longer than you thought it would, and he nodded his head fervently, wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his hoodie.

“It’s… It’s more than okay… I just… I don’t know why… I don’t mind it though.” He rambled, looking between you and Ella who was currently setting the table for three people instead of the usual two. “You’re… staying for dinner?” He questioned, and you gave him that adorable, heart stopping smile that had stopped him in the halls of the building all of those months ago, the smile that had pushed him over the edge and made him fall for you in the beginning.

“Yes she is.” Ella spoke up, clapping her hands together to get both of your attention. “Do you want me to eat in my room… So the two of you can talk? I’m sure you have a lot to talk about… I can leave you alone if you’d like.” But you shook your head, walking over to the table and playfully ruffling her hair before opening the takeout bag and pulling out the contents.

“I’d like it a whole lot if you stayed and ate with us… But if you want to eat in your room… If your dad says it’s okay… Then you can.” You sounded so… sweet, the way a mother would talk to her own daughter, and the craziest part was that Ella smiled at you before taking a seat at the table, she actually listened to you… There was no attitude that came alone with it. “Are you just going to stand there and look at the food, or are you going to join us in eating it?” You asked, bringing Chan out of his own thoughts and back into the room.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m coming…” Chan whispered, walking into the dining room and taking his usual seat, but the aura at the table was a lot different now. It’s like the whole room had gotten 10 times brighter, and no matter which way he looked he was met with a warm smile. He had so many questions, but he knew that he had all the time in the world to ask them, and regardless of the answer… He knew that things would be better now, all of the pieces were falling back into place, and the picture was more beautiful than he had ever imagined it to be.

~6 Months Later~

“You’re gonna absolutely crush this test, I know you will.” You stood at the stove, preparing breakfast as Ella sat at the table, her face buried in her text book to get as much last minute studying in before she had to go to school. “No matter what, I want you to remember that your dad and I are so proud of you and how hard you work. Okay? We love you.” Ella hummed softly, not even looking up from her book, but you could see that she was smiling, and that was enough of a response for you to know that she had heard you, that she was listening. You carefully placed her plate down beside her, lightly tapping the table to get her attention. “Please eat. Okay?”

Chan ran out of the bedroom, his eyes barely even opened, his shirt wrinkled and twisted and his hair sticking up in all different directions. “Did she leave yet?!” He asked rather loudly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and blinking a few times before focusing in on his daughter who was looking up at him, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “Don’t laugh, it’s not funny. I wanted to give you a hug before you left.” He pouted, and she quickly got up out of her chair, rushing over to Chan and wrapping her arms around him. “You’ll do great. I-”

“No more speeches! You guys are going to make me cry!” Ella dramatically whined, pulling away from Chan and running back to the table to pack her things into her bag and then shoveling as much food into her mouth as she could before going to the front door. “Love you! I’ll see you later!” She mumbled with her mouth full of food, and before the two of you could say it back she was out the door.

Once the door was shut, Chan walked over to you, his arms wrapping around your from behind as he rested his chin against your shoulder. “Hey…” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek that was dampened by tears that you hadn’t even realized had begun to fall. “What’s wrong, lovey?” He cooed, gently turning you around to face him, his head cocked to the side.

“I don’t know… I just… I’ve only been here for six months and… We’ve gotten so close and… She’ll be going off to college soon if that’s what she wants to do… But… I’m gonna miss her and the house is gonna be so empty and…” You pouted up at Chan who couldn’t help but find it adorable the way you were right now. It was the most heartwarming thing, to know that you loved his daughter so much already that you were crying at the thought of her leaving.

“Well… We have the house to ourselves for a couple of hours… We could watch a movie or something to take your mind off of being sad… Or… We could go have some fun… Surprise Ella with a brother or a sister when she comes home from college…” Your eyes widened at the suggestion, but your feet were already moving in the direction of the bedroom, that all too familiar tingly feeling building in your stomach. “We can watch a movie when we’re done… If you’re not too tired.”

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alexiroflife · 2 months

Text

"mutual understanding"

part 1.

modern | business au, business heir!gojo, hints of fluff, banter, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage

satoru gojo x reader

Synopsis: you, the daughter of a wealthy law firm ceo, are forced into a binding arrangement with your father's competitor's son for the sake of his company

to sum it up: you've always hated satoru, and now you're expected to marry him for your father... how the hell were the two of you meant to get along?

WC: 19,667

Warning(s): none

-> i'm alive guys! so sorry about the delay, i've been super busy but i come home from vacay in a week and should be back to a normal uploading schedule soon! i hope you enjoy, i got carried away with this one :) [also requests are still paused as i catch up on those submitted before i traveled!]

You found this entire ordeal to be absolutely ridiculous.

You sat in the corner of the room on one of your father’s lavish couches, arms crossed frustratedly as though you were a toddler having been shunned to time out. In many ways, however, it almost felt like you had. Your father had grown tired of your bickering and disdain over this stupid arrangement, and had sent you to quietly sit at the other side of the room and to not serve as any more of a ‘distraction’ he claimed you had already become.

I mean, how unfair was this bullshit?

Not only was your father orchestrating your entire future before your eyes without allowing you a say, but he was doing so in collaboration with his previously opposing company; his former competition. You glared angrily ahead into the back of the elder, snowy white haired man’s head as he presented a contract that your father bent over the desk to put pen to, then gritted your teeth as the said men tossed their heads back in scheming, haughty laughter in response to some throwaway joke that was made, making amends at your expense.

Your father had always taught you the importance of business expenses and exchanges for the sake of successfully pushing forward, but was this all really necessary? You were twenty five years old, having just completed law school, and this was where your father wanted you to be, cramped inside his eloquently stuffy office with the head of the Gojo Firm, feet away from his heir who your father is forcing your hand to in marriage.

You clicked your teeth at the sentiment, having listened to his seemingly endless rants about the Gojo Firm and their business practices that he oh so frowned upon, yet were the same practices that brought the two companies neck and neck with each other, and at times, the Gojo Firm ahead of your father’s.

“Those Gojos,” your father would hiss through gritted teeth, pacing his office. “Such arrogance. They don’t even bother to polish themselves the way we do, and yet, they’re constantly climbing the ranks! That head of theirs will be the very death of me, and don’t even get me started on his Satan spawn of a son they call an heir-”

Yeah, the same Satan spawn that your father was suddenly springing onto you for the hope of a lifelong commitment. He was such a hypocrite, feigning a bright, gasy grin as he shook hands firmly with his enemy, clasping his other firm hand over their conjoined ones to solidify the commitment.

He had not even bothered to ask you what you felt about the entire ordeal. He begged you not to complain or misbehave, but you felt he should have known his daughter better than to be one to sit back and complacently accept the forceful conjoining of her life with another snobby little nepotism baby for the sake of the company.

It wasn’t that you didn’t understand why your father was making you go through with this. You knew perfectly well that choosing to make amends and to bind the notorious families together by means of marriage would work wonders for all of you in the end, and you wouldn’t have had to work another day in your life, but it simply wasn’t what you wanted. You had your own goals, your own aspirations, and marriage in your mid twenties had never, ever been a part of those plans.

Additionally, you’re unsure if your father’s opinions bleeding into yours were to blame, but you simply could not stand the man you were expected to be marrying.

You snuck a harsh glare over into your right direction, peering angrily at the Gojo Firm heir, who leaned back into the adjacent sofa with his long legs spread out so widely before him as he sank into the cushions. A look of resenting apathy splayed over his expression, eyes staring emptily forward as he tuned out whatever his father was yammering on about.

You scowled at the very sight of him.

If you were to be deciding upon yourself to engage your life to another human being’s before your life had truly even begun, Satoru Gojo would not have been your first pick. In fact, he would not have even made it as a contestant within the race to capture your heart. You doubted that Satoru was any more interested in you than you were in him, but you didn’t care. You felt you had reason to dislike him, when he merely appeared to be pouting about getting tied down.

You had the misfortune of crossing paths with the twenty six year old a few times before, and each time you saw him, he made it a point to remind you of his father’s advantage over your own. He’d stop in his tracks upon seeing you on the street, at a shopping district or climbing out of your father’s limo to enter a restaurant, and the same, sickening smirk would curl its way onto his porcelain features, crystal eyes slimming in judgment and pride as he peered over you, pressing you for a reaction as though he enjoyed to watch you doubt yourself at his manipulation.

He was exceedingly pompous, he was childish, and he had no manners. He did as he pleased, and while the two of you were in the same boat in regard to your privilege and your parents’ success weighing down on your own lives, he behaved that much more uncouth than you did. You at least had the decency to practice what you liked to call normal human decency, despite your ranking as the 1%, but Satoru Gojo behaved just the opposite. He paraded around gallantly, flaunting his riches, blabbering on about his future reception of his father’s company, which was and remained the “best law firm in Japan, if not the entire world,” according to his own beliefs.

You had often curled your nose in disgust at Satoru's behavior. How someone could have been so blatantly self involved, you didn’t understand. You believed he was the very reason as to why the world frowned upon the richer, isolated sanction of the world, though you could have probably chalked that idea up to naivety since you yourself remained on the inside looking out, struggling to understand the issues society had with you all.

Nevertheless, you believed yourself to be better than the Gojos tenfold, and far better than Satoru Gojo could have ever been, but now, you had to harbor that hatred elsewhere, channel it into something other than your… dreaded fiance.

Satoru took notice of your gaze on him and turned his head to catch your eye boredly. He curled an irritated brow at you, and you rolled your eyes, turning away staring angrily forward once more. You could feel those pools of ocean blue seering into you after you looked away, likely challenging you to see how long you could ignore him. You clenched your jaw, tightened your crossed arms and pushed yourself further back into the seat of your chair.

After what had felt like forever, your parents turned to you with the freshly signed contract within their grasp.

“Kids,” Gojo announced. “I do believe (L/n) and I have come to an agreement. Have you come to an understanding?”

You refused to answer, shaking your head subtly in opposition as you turned away. Silence filled the air as Satoru looked to you, then back to his father with a disinterested face.

“Dad, can’t we just reconsider?” he sighed. “Clearly the girl can’t handle a business collaboration.”

You perked your head up, whipping it into his direction. “Um, excuse me? The business collaboration isn’t the problem, it’s who I'm doing it with and how.”

“(Y/n),” your father warned, throwing you a testing look. You tossed your hands up and leaned forward, curling your lips downward.

“What? I can’t speak my mind anymore?”

“Maybe you just need to speak a little less in general, how about that?” Satoru posed, tilting his head over his shoulder to raise his eyebrows at you challengingly. “I’m sure you’re much prettier that way. Sitting in silence, yeah?”

Your gaze upon him hardened as your already bubbling irritation grew the longer those eyes of his zoned in on you and the brattier his attitude became. As unhappy as you deemed him to be with your parents’ transaction, he was still working hard to make it seem as though you were the only individual making this process of your engagement difficult.

“I’m not the one who has an issue with sitting in silence, blabbermouth,” you shot back.

“Sure you don’t, honey. As if I didn’t just watch your daddy tell you off for complaining.”

“You know what-”

“Enough,” your father’s voice ordered, a resounding boom throughout the space. You rolled your eyes, tossing your head away as Satoru looked up, his amused smile lingering though his eyes whispered a hint of vexation from your father’s interruption. “Whether the two of you like it or not, our family’s our conjoining through your commitment to each other.”

The very sound of the notion made you physically ill. “But dad, can’t we just-”

“(Y/n),” he stopped you. “As I have said numerous times, the decision is final. The papers have been signed.”

You clicked your teeth. “I heard you the first fifty times.”

“Then I do not know what more you wish to dispute about.”

You didn’t miss the swift manner in which Satoru breathed out a puff of amusement beside you, swiping his fingers over his mouth and clearing his throat to pretend as though he had not produced the noise.

His father, however, caught wind of the little action as well and turned his head stiffly to him, a cold admonition wavering over his worn expression. Satoru’s smile faded, his hand remaining over his mouth as he looked off to the side with hardened brows.

“Clearly the issue of the two of you butting heads remains,” your father continued. “Therefore, I suggest that you find a way to get along, and to do so promptly.”

“Does marriage have to mean that we like each other?” Satoru questioned, raising a brow and lifting his hand from his mouth, elbow propped on the arm of his seat.

You scoffed. “Clearly not in this case,” you mumbled.

“Look, we are not naive enough to believe that the two of you would begin to have feelings for one another,” the Gojo head said, leading you and Satoru to grumble in agreement with the sentiment. “But the very least that you can do, for the decency of our families, is to try to be cordial with one another.”

“Yes. Go out for drinks. Take a drive. Treat one another to dinner,” your father suggested. “Do something to build the slightest bit of rapport with one another. To the public, you must at least appear that you tolerate each other.”

Tolerate? Please, what a joke! Your father could barely even tolerate the man beside him, and yet you were being forced to shake hands with the heir that your family had always despised.

“You expect me to go out to dinner… with him?” you frowned in displeasure.

“Dinner should be the least of your worries now, sweetheart. We’re getting married,” Satoru reminded you.

“How could I possibly forget,” you exhaled wearily. “How long exactly do we even have until the wedding? If you expect us to be ‘cordial,’ I hate to tell you, but even thinking about doing that with him would take years. If I’m being generous.”

“Awww, do you really think I’m that bad?”

“Yes.”

Satoru’s father made a poor attempt to hide his disapproval of your behavior before your father interceded once more. “You have two weeks.”

You and Satoru bolted upward. “Two weeks?!”

“We have been discussing this cooperation for quite some time now,” Gojo said. “There’s no need to delay any further. The quicker you are married, the quicker we all benefit.”

“But-” you stammered in disbelief. “You’ve been discussing everything without us! What about the preparations? How the hell are we gonna get those done in two weeks?”

“The preparations have already been put in motion.”

“Are you serious? Wh- and my dress? The decorations? The-”

“The Gojo estate will be taking care of it all. You will not need to worry about such things,” Satoru’s father responded. “Though, there is a schedule for those aforementioned tasks that you should be aware of.”

Your chest tightened with discomfort. You couldn’t comprehend the fact that your wedding was being planned for you, an event that was meant to bring joy and the excitement of starting a new life with someone you loved, by your will, by your own heart’s desire. Instead, your father’s rival was orchestrating the things you had dreamed of organizing in your childlike girlhood.

What was once a notion of devotion and happiness had been soured by the will of your obligation to your father’s legacy. You had always been defined by your own father’s successes, which had made it significantly harder for you to venture out on your own and create a narrative that was undefined by your family, and the moment you had believed yourself to be inching toward independence, this had been sprung onto you.

It was all so unfair.

You could never love Satoru Gojo. He was the epitome of all self involvement and false amiability. His goal had always been to tear you down, despite hardly knowing you personally, and you highly doubted that he would suddenly change his ways once he had become married to you. In fact, you believed he would only grow worse. You determined that he would make your life hell, holding this arrangement against you until the very end and making sure to sleep with as many women as he possibly could behind the scenes of your poorly constructed bond.

You envisioned your marriage with Satoru to be distant interactions, frequent occurrences of mutual adultery, and a cush prison in which you were contained.

You almost wanted to cry. You felt so trapped, and to know that you are unloved by your partner within a lifelong commitment was going to tear you apart and break you down piece by piece. You knew you didn’t love Satoru either, but the difference was that his tendency to berate you impacted your sense of self more than yours could have ever impacted his.

You had two weeks to mentally prepare yourself for the rest of your life. Two weeks to undergo fittings, cake tastings, and color samplings that wouldn’t even be picked by your taste, but the taste of the wealthy Gojo estate. You had no control within this marriage. None at all, and it was going to destroy you.

When the room took notice of your silence and the twisted frown upon your face as well as your downcasted gaze, your father elected to shift. “We will give the two of you some time alone to process,” he said, and though his physical expression did not show it, you could tell that he was softening ever so slightly for the sake of your now silent displeasure. It was one thing for you to parade around, chanting about your distaste in something, but the moment you deflated and the words failed to fall from your mouth, your father at least had the sense to attempt to de-escalate, though his idea of de-escalating by leaving you alone with Satoru was a very poor choice all around.

Satoru snickered rather sourly to himself, shaking his head and leaning it back. His long leg jumped restlessly as he looked agitatedly at the ceiling.

“Satoru,” his father spoke. The heir didn’t bother meeting his eyes at the address. “Do not disappoint me with your foolishness.”

The silence in the room seemed to strengthen. Satoru clenched his jaw, remaining quiet the longer his father’s presence loomed over him. You had always known the Gojo head to be a rather strict man, so this interaction came as no surprise to you, but what had caught your attention was the fact that Satoru had been clearly bothered by the comment, when you had previously believed him to be unbothered by any and all.

“We will be downstairs discussing the arrangements further,” your father added. “Make an effort, you two. Please.”

Your father casted you one more knowing look before the two left the room, the door closing gently behind them.

You ran your hands over your face and released a frustrated grunt. “This is such bullshit!”

“You’re telling me,” Satoru mumbled from across the room, his mannerisms still slightly sour. “Marrying you was definitely not in the cards for me.”

You leaned over in your seat to glower at him. “As if it were in mine, either,” you seethed. “Especially not with the god damn Gojo firm’s heir.”

“Please,” Satoru exhaled. “Quit acting as though marrying me isn’t a privilege for you. We’re the wealthiest law firm in Japan.”

“Excuse you, but my father and I never needed you to do us any favors. We’re just as successful.”

“If that were true, then we wouldn’t be here, now would we?”

He rolled his head over his shoulder to meet your gaze lazily. The moment he caught the anger in your eyes, his bitterness melted into subtle satisfaction, blue eyes lidding over.

“What the hell is your issue, huh?” you frowned. “Our fathers literally just told us to try to be cordial, and all you can do is shit on me and the very family you're marrying into.”

“You’re acting as though you weren’t just trash mouthing me two seconds ago,” he argued. “I’m not the only one here who has an issue with how things are going. We both have issues with one another, sweetheart, it’s not just on my end. You just tend to let things get to you more easily.”

“Have you ever stopped to think that maybe I don't like you so much because of the way you first started talking about me and my father? All you’ve ever done is gloat like you’re the only damn person on this planet to exist. It’s insufferable.”

“And you have a problem with pretending like you aren’t on the same exact plane as I am.”

“What the hell are you talking about? You literally always make fun of me because you think we’re not on the same level.”

“I’m talking about when it comes to who we are. What we do. How society views us. Whether I’m better or not, we’re both still rich assholes. I’m not any more of a dick than you are.”

“That’s not true. I don’t act the same way you do.”

“Maybe not, but you’re still just as arrogant as I am. You just portray your arrogance in different ways.”

“Quit trying to drag me down to your level.”

“There’s no ‘dragging down’ when I’m the one ahead of you,” he smirked. “And like I said, you’re already just as bad as me.”

You scoffed, unsure of how to even respond to his claims. He toyed with you as he stared, lifting his brows and twirling the corner of those glossy lips upward. “I can’t stand you,” you spat.

“I know, sweetheart.”

“And don’t call me that.”

“Alright, honey.”

You fumed. He got off on this back and forth between you two, feeding into it and swiftly constructing a response that could counter yours before you could even think. “This is not happening,” you grumbled to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Well, unfortunately, it is. There’s not much either of us can really do about that.”

“And what, you’re just gonna go with whatever your father tells you? You really think this is a good idea?”

He shrugged. “Aren’t you doing the same exact thing? We don’t have a choice.”

“Then how the hell are we supposed to get along in two weeks?”

“They obviously don’t really expect us to do that. They just want us to make a show of it. Then when we’re alone, we don’t have to cling to each other anymore.”

“Who said we’d be clinging to each other in the first place?”

“God, (Y/n), I really thought you were supposed to be smart.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“You’ve never acted before? Never had to play something up for the public?”

“Not to this extent, no,” you sighed. “This isn’t just any other publicity stunt. We are literally engaged.”

“It’s all the same to me at this point.” Satoru suddenly stood, lifting his arms into the air and stretching over his head. He placed a hand on his hip and turned to look out the window, past you, before his eyes found your face again. “I can hold your hand and kiss you without it meaning anything. It’s just work.”

You scrunched your face. “Like hell I’d ever let you kiss me.”

“Get over yourself for one second and stop being bratty.”

“Me? Bratty?” you chuckled. “Bit of the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?”

“Just listen,” he said firmly. “It’s easier for people to believe that we’re together by choice than by force, because then it would be painfully obvious that we’re only doing this for the sake of our companies.”

“Well, duh, but I feel like that’s painfully obvious already. Our companies have always hated each other.”

“So the better actors we are, the more clients we get.”

“You don’t need to speak to me like I’m an idiot, I already get this gist. I just don’t understand the point. It’s extra work that we’ll have to do for no reason.”

“Obviously you don’t get it, or else you wouldn’t be saying it’s for no reason.”

“Gojo, listen. The more effort we put toward pretending to be in love, the more exhausting this entire thing will be. Being cordial is, you know, fine, but holding your hand for people to see isn’t gonna make this look any different in the public’s eyes.”

“You’re wrong.”

“You’re literally only saying that because you always think you’re right.”

“I am always right. Like I am now.” You rolled your eyes. “Listen, sweetheart-”

“That’s not my name.”

He ignored you. “-I’m more familiar with this territory than you are, being the next head of the firm and all. I know what I’m talking about. I’ve seen this a hundred times over. I would’ve thought you have too,” he stopped, looking over your stiff posture. “Or, if this is just about you being stubborn and pretending you don’t want to show me affection, then that’s an entirely different thing.”

“I’m not pretending! I don’t want to marry you, let alone kiss you!” you barked.

“Oh, come onnn,” he drawled, saunting over to you pridefully. You kept your gaze hard on his face as he approached you, his hands tucking into the pockets of his slacks as he leaned over you with a playful glint in his eye. “You haven’t thought about what it would be like just once? You can admit it. I’m no stranger to women falling in love with me.”

You pushed your hand against his forehead, shoving him away harshly. He flailed, stumbling back as he waved his arms about to regain balance. “As if. I don’t want whatever herpes you’re carrying.”

“Herpes?!” he exclaimed, rubbing his forehead dramatically. “I’m as squeaky clean as a bar of soap. I don’t know what kinda men you’ve been around.”

“I don’t go around men in the first place. All of you suck.”

“That would explain a lot then,” he snorted. “It’s okay. I don’t blame you for keeping your attraction to me a secret. After all, you’ve worked so hard to hate me.”

“Never, and I mean never, in a million years would I be attracted to you,” you said flatly, face blank.

“Everyone’s attracted to me. I’m a Gojo.”

“Then congratulations! There’s a first for everything,” you smiled tightly. “One day you’ll learn that being a Gojo isn’t everything in this world. Beneath all of that, you’re still a piece of shit.”

“You wound me,” he sucked his teeth. “How could my wife think so lowly of me?”

“Don’t call me that either. We’re not married yet. Hell, we’ll hardly even be married when we actually are.”

“And that’s exactly why we’re gonna have to pretend.”

You slimmed your eyes, examining his figure, attempting to look past the mask of indifference that he wore, replaced by an irritable playfulness. “This doesn’t bother you?”

He cocked a brow, crossing his arms as he stood before you. “What kind of question is that?”

“I’m just saying,” you started. “I mean… this is our whole lives, and you want to just act the entire time? Have you even really processed any of this?”

The glimmer in his eyes dimmed slightly, a far off look occupying the space in his irises. He looked back out the large window panes that stretched from the floor to the ceiling behind your father’s desk chair, gazing over the city. “This already was my life,” he said, blandly. “I’m gonna be the next head. I always knew I’d have to marry in accordance with the company’s needs.”

You blinked. “Yeah, but-”

“Don’t be naive, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “I’ve got much bigger things to worry about than marrying for love. Whether it bothers me or not doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter to you either.”

Your brows drew together tighter at the sentiment. “How could you think like that? That’s no way to go about living at all.”

“And yet, it’s the life we’re beginning to live, isn’t it?”

You watched him for a few seconds more with your lips clamped together and your eyes sharp. He kept your gaze, unwavering, his smile drifting back onto his face. You caught the snap of his icy eyes over your seated figure before they flew back up to yours in an instance, then shielded themselves behind his lids the moment he closed his eyes.

“You gotta stop thinking with a heart and think with your brain. Life isn’t a fairytale, and I’m definitely not your Prince Charming. The two of us will probably end up falling in love with other people and getting tangled into a messy affair that inevitably destroys us and this contract years down the line. But hey, our firms will have been making money and I’ll be head by then. I’ll be able to make it all go away with the snap of my fingers. That’s what matters.”

You shook your head in exasperation. “You’re so shallow.”

“As much as I’d love to go in circles about how shitty of a person you think I am,” he tilted his head, peering down at you through strands of white hair. “We’ve got a wedding to plan, and a relationship to build. Or at the very least, some master classes in acting to take.”

You tossed him a strange look. “Are we seriously gonna go hang out in public together now?”

“...You like to bowl?”

“Don’t piss me off.”

“We gotta do something, (Y/n). I mean, is it really a horrible thought to let me take you to dinner?”

“I don’t think you want me to answer that, Gojo.”

Satoru jutted out his bottom lip, looking up to the air as if contemplating. “You know, my father told me about this party that I should attend. I’m sure you’ve heard about it too.”

You paused, looking at him quizzically. “A party?”

“Mhmmm,” a mischievous glint flickered in his eye. “Friday night.”

You took a moment to think. “Wait…”

“Thrown by the Itadoris,” he posed.

Your eyes widened in realization. “No.”

“Maybeeeee,” he continued.

“No, absolutely not.”

“You and I…?”

“I am not going to the stupid ass, stuffy ass, creepy ass mansion and I sure as hell am not going with you.”

“See, but that’s the issue,” he hissed. “I have to go, and it would practically be a crime not to bring my fiance along with me as my date.”

“For fuck’s sake,” you groaned.

“Soooo…” he grinned, shrugging innocently. “My offer stands. You wanna come?”

“You’re not exactly letting me make a decision!” you barked.

“Because you don’t really get to. Our parents already agreed that we should go together anyway.”

“Oh really?” you frowned. “And why the fuck do you know everything about what our parents plan but I don’t?!”

“Only one of us is going to be the head of the wealthiest law firm, so only one of us really needs to be in the loop. All you need to worry about are your pretty little dress fittings, remember?” he smiled condescendingly.

You gritted your teeth together. “I swear on my life, Gojo-”

“That’s another thing,” he interrupted you. “It’d be a little weird for my future wife to address me the same way she addresses my father. From now on, just call me Satoru.”

“I’d rather die.”

“That’s your prerogative,” he winked. “But seriously. I’m not my dad. My name is Satoru.”

His tone shifted slightly when he uttered the last phrase, as though the idea of being jammed into a box with his dad were the very worst thing he could possibly endure. Your brow twitched slightly at the observation, and while you wanted to argue on the subject more, somehow you felt as though this was not something Satoru was willing to go back and forth with you about.

“Alright, fine,” you huffed. “I’ll call you Satoru, but only if you knock it off with the pet names. You can keep calling me (Y/n), but I dare you to address me as some shit like ‘snugglemuffin’ in public.”

He snorted. “You think I'd do something like that?”

“I know you would. Just to get a rise out of me.”

“Ah, don’t worry. I’ll stick to the basics.”

“Yeah, like hell you will.”

He grinned, presenting you his outstretched hand. You stared at it, unimpressed, before looking back at him boredly. “It’s a date, then?”

You pondered it. His hand remained stuck rather closely before you, failing to provide you any room to turn it away. His hand, in many ways, represented your future, drew you into a promise that you made against your morals and in honor of your family’s legacy. His hand, with soft lines creasing over his palm and long, slender fingers splayed out toward you, was a symbol of the life you were leaving behind and the life you were stepping into against your will. Into the unknown, into the godforsaken misery spent beside the Gojos from now on until forever more.

Before, you would have never allowed yourself to even be caught dead in the company of Satoru Gojo, but now, as the worlds forced into collision and the very bane of your existence stood before you as your future husband, you swallowed your pride and apologized to your past self for giving in to a fate drawn out for you rather than by your own hand.

Your stomach churned and your hand met his reluctantly. His fingers clasped tightly around your hand, pressing into your skin, and your eyes warned him to relax when his lips curled further to emphasize his dimples.

“We have a date,” you finalized bitterly, and Satoru laughed as he shook your hand.

“Don’t sound too excited.”

“Please, this is the most enthusiasm you’ll ever hear from me,” you mumbled, tearing your hand away from his after a few seconds passed. You stood to your feet, brushing past Satoru to gather your purse from beside you on the floor. You were frankly entirely too exhausted with this conversation, as well as Satoru’s presence, and you wanted nothing more than to go home and mourn your existence. “What time is this gala anyway?”

He hummed to himself, watching you as you made your way to the door. “I’ll pick you up at 9. How about that?”

Your hand froze over the door handle as you turned over your shoulder to glare at the white haired man. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Not all questions can be answered, can they?” he teased.

The muscles under your eye twitched before you took in a deep breath and closed your eyes. “Just- fine. Okay,” you muttered. “I’ll be ready at 8:59. And don’t you fucking be late, Gojo, or I swear to god, your family will have to find another arranged bride.”

“I’ll be on time when you address me properly.”

You gritted your teeth. “Satoru. Don’t be late, Satoru.”

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded, satisfied. He reached over to grab his jacket from his chair and made his way behind you once you pushed open the door. “I will be there right on the dot.”

You didn’t know why you had expected Satoru to actually stay true to his word. By the time 9:00 on Friday night rolled around, you had been waiting by your door for the next thirty minutes, and there had still been absolutely no sight of the bastard.

Conveniently, after having abused his privilege of obtaining your phone number upon your initial meeting with your fathers and blowing up your texts every second he found to himself with nonsensical bullshit, the moment you began to demand to know where he had been was when he had fallen uncharacteristically silent and ignored your texts.

You had spent the past few days attempting to adjust to this newfound closeness to the Gojo family. Your days had been filled with servants taking your measurements, wrapping measuring tape tightly around your waist and your arms to get a rather fitted measurement of your dress size, alongside long lectures given by both your father and Satoru’s, consisting of the two of them advising you of how to behave in the public eye. Satoru’s father had even taken it upon himself to tell you what he expected of a Gojo bride, and how if you failed to meet certain expectations, you would have reflected poorly on not only the public but on hundreds of past Gojo generations.

You had tried to reason with your father one more time the night after you all had met in his office, but all he did was turn down your concerns.

“Daddy, why won’t you listen to me? You know how awful Gojo is! How could you expect me to marry him?” you whined.

“My dear, I don’t know what more to tell you,” your father had exhaled, shoulders slumped with the weight of exhaustion and stress. You, however, did not care to pay those signs any mind. You were entirely too roped up in your state of distress. “I know the boy is a nuisance, but you’ll have to make do. You and Satoru will marry, and that is final.”

“And what about my career? My life?!”

“Good god, (Y/n), your world isn’t ending. There are much worse fates than marrying a wealthy heir,” he attempted to reason. “Besides, you're my daughter. As much as you wanted to build a life of your own and get your own employment, you never needed to do any of that. I’ve been trying to tell you that forever.”

“Yeah, and at the same time I’ve been trying to tell you that I don’t want to be handed everything all the time!”

“Believe me, if you were born less fortunate, you would not cling to such childish ideals.”

You fumed, body trembling, feeling as though you were preparing to burst at the seams. You wanted to explode, but you had no outlet. You wanted to scream, but there was no tunnel in which your voice could escape freely. You were no longer free, you thought to yourself. You were trapped, stuck, and the feeling tore you to shreds like no other emotion ever had.

You believed that the very worst of the remainder of the week were the rumors that had already begun circling around about you and Satoru. You recalled waking up one morning to a text from your friend Shoko, and narrowing your eyes in shock when you read what she had said.

Sho: Um, girl, please tell me what I hear about you marrying Satoru Gojo isn’t true.

You immediately took to the internet, scouring Twitter, Instagram, and every celebrity news blog possible to find a secret picture of you and the white haired man taken from afar from at least two months back. You remembered the exact occasion, as well. You had been on your way home from a lecture when you ran into the blue eyed freak at the market. He had significantly invaded your personal space, by the looks of the picture and if your memory had served you well, which it always did, and he was leaning over you with a challenging grin, eyes half lidding and hand pressed to the brick wall with his arm blocking your path by your head.

He had made a comment about something you were wearing, or perhaps it was a snippy comment about where you were coming from - you don’t exactly recall all the details, but you could tell by your rigid stance that he was irritating you once again. The paparazzi, however, and the thousands of people soaking up the gossip, mistook this brief interaction for a romantic rendezvous, a suggestion of a flirtatious exchange, a hint toward a far deeper connection.

The suspicions alone paired with the picture may not have done too much harm on their own, for rumors about wealthy individuals’ personal lives spread all over the internet every single day, but what transformed what could have been an innocent, meaningless encounter into a bigger scandal was a particular tweet that you found with a blank profile and teetering over a million hearts that read: “I heard that the Gojo heir and the (L/n) daughter are getting married…”

This could have also been completely taken out of context, but the uproar from the picture combined with such a drastic piece of gossip only further fueled the internet’s hunger and curiosity.

This had Gojo’s father and his team written all over it.

And you had no choice but to tell Shoko that the rumor was, in fact, laced with no trace of falsehood. As you expected, she reeled in shock and asked a million questions, considering her knowledge of your long-harbored hatred for the man, but you pleaded with her not to say anything to anyone until you and Satoru yourselves went public with the information. She agreed, and you at least were given the opportunity to rant to your friend about the truth behind the news once she was sworn to secrecy by your undying trust in her.

You felt such pity for yourself, especially as you studied your reflection in the mirror as Satoru neared the forty-five minute mark with no text, no car, and no arrival. Gold jewelry dripped from your ears and dazzled around your neck above the crease of your cleavage, your satin black gown hugging your body velvety-smooth. You tugged at your gown gloves, eyes boring into your own. You were the very pinnacle of first class wealth and beauty, a gem untouched by the greedy grasp of man, but that would only last until the moment you arrived at the altar with a man you did not love, with a man you rather despised, with a man who couldn’t even keep a promise to pick you up at the time he had set.

You had such grand dreams for yourself, a life away from a legacy birthed into you, a life christened by your careful planning and your nurtured ambitions, and all of it had been crushed within a matter of seconds.

You envisioned yourself years down the line, dressed in a similar fashion, awaiting your husband’s arrival for a charity event that the two of you were to attend together. He was late, and time ticked on, and the bags weighed heavily under your eyes as you stared into the empty souls of your eyes, once filled with vibrance yet having been drained by the tireless despair of pretending to be happy within a crystal palace of your own doom.

Was this your life? Was this who you were meant to be all along? Had the years studying in school, traveling, honing in on your own craft though so closely connected to your father even been worth it? Was this worth it?

Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud honk of a car horn from outside your front door. You jumped slightly, then immediately filled with rage at the notion that Satoru had the audacity to not only show up almost an hour late, but to beep his horn as though you were the one who had been delaying the two of you this entire time. He didn’t even have the decency to greet you at your door, and you wondered for a moment if he treated all of his dates like this or if you were the only exception.

You thought about ignoring him and staying home, but the honking persisted and your patience was wearing thin. With an aggravated grunt, you swiped up your bag in hand and marched out of your door, slamming it closed upon seeing Satoru laze about in the driver’s seat of his benz, parked up in the center of your circular gravel driveway with the engine running.

You didn’t even bother acknowledging him when he looked up and you were already yanking his door open and shutting it harshly behind you, brows angled and eyes fiery with anger. You sat rigidly in the seat, arms crossed over your chest tightly.

“...So, I’m a little late-”

“So help me Gojo, drive the fucking car or I’ll kill you right here and make it look like an accident.”

He sucked in a breath, tugging his mouth down as he bared his teeth and shifted the car back into drive. “Someone’s pissy tonight.”

“Oh, and I wonder why!” you exclaimed, whirling your head over at him heatedly. You could barely see his eyes through the dark, round shades that he wore, which complemented the navy velvet tux adorning his figure. “Your ass is too busy being blind wearing fucking sunglasses in the dark instead of getting here on time like I specifically told you to do.”

“What? You don’t like ‘em? I think they look good. And I get held up with work, relax,” he groaned. You threw a hefty punch into his shoulder, leading the man to yelp and clutch the injured area. “What the hell?!”

“You’re an hour late, Gojo!” you yelled. “Not five minutes, not ten, not fifteen, a whole hour.”

“Technically, there’s still a few minutes until it’s an hour-”

“Who the fuck cares?!” you interjected.

Satoru blinked at you, trying his very hardest to bit back the smile that was creeping onto his face in reaction to your anger. “What do you expect me to do- you want me to apologize, sweetheart?”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”

“I’m just getting into character,” he defended. “I’d hate to start off our first date with such negativity.”

“I can not do this with you tonight. Hurry up and drive, Gojo. We’re already late.”

“Mmmm, try again, honey. Remember, what did we agree on?”

“We agreed that you’d get here at 9:00 and that if you were late, you needed to find a new fiance,” you hissed. “But since I can’t exactly make that happen, I’ll settle on not calling you Satoru.”

Satoru clicked his tongue. “You’ll need to switch that up once we’re at the party, (Y/n).”

“I don’t think I will,” you smiled tightly. “I’m not going to make tonight easy for you in the slightest. You want me to come? I’m coming, but I’m not doing so happily.

He gave you an irritated glance. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

You lifted your clenched fist as though to punch him again, and he flinched, leaning away and shielding himself with a hand. “Okay, okay! I’m driving. Sheesh.”

The car ride over to the Itadoris’ was rather silent, save for the radio that Satoru had turned on for the sake of the tension bubbling in the air, inspired solely by you. You kept your body twisted and tensed toward the passenger door, hair blowing about your face as the wind whipped through the open vehicle. You kept your gaze to the dark sky above and the blurry city lights that glazed over your eyes as Satoru sped through traffic.

Eventually, the two of you made it past the excitement of the bustling city to the other side, where tall, bright buildings and flashing billboards were replaced by rural, gran estates, cottages, and temples. The landscape shifted as well, rolling hills cascading amidst tall, flourishing flower trees and ponds guarded by quant bridges. You took in a deep sigh, anticipating the very worst as you entered the vicinity in which the Itadoris lived.

Lavish, large, and disgustingly rich, Jin Itadori, the head of a well-loved shipping company, housed a luxurious home on the other side of the city, amidst the brush within a secluded section by the edge of the forest. There, the patch of greenery seemed to clear for the very loud residence of the family home, where the entire Itadori lineage lived in one space.

The Itadoris, while immensely well known, were a rather strange… eccentric crew, to say the very least. While you felt that you could at least attempt to handle one of them at a time, the thought of having to encounter all five of them at once was incredibly unappealing to you. You were already experiencing the displeasure of arriving as Satoru’s date and fiance, therefore, being forced to mingle with the likes of such a chaotic bunch was not something you were looking forward to very much.

There was Jin, of course, who had assumed the role of the head of this company by Wasuke, the former head as well as his father. Wasuke, once a sharp mouthed, spritely, mischievous young man who had gone great lengths to achieve his ambitions of wealth and success, had aged into a sharp mouthed, mischievous old man, bitter with his permanent physical connection to the rest of his family whilst still living amongst them all in his mansion, despite his refusal to move into a nursing home at his elderly age. Wasuke had the terrible habit of delving into lengthy rants about the very expansive list of things he did not care for regarding his family, as well as how the world and its society developed into a gentrified, modernized “pit of doom,” as he would have liked to describe it. With every chance he found, he was souring a moment of joy, tainting happiness with his miserable outlook on life.

His son remained the more reasonable of the group, attempting to regain composure when chaos inevitably erupted. He served as the anchor, the man of reason with an incredibly strong, though dwindling tolerance for the hell that his family put him through every day. He was currently working toward showing his son, Yuji, a kind hearted sixteen year old boy, the ropes of running a company to prepare him for the day that he succeeded him as the business’ next head.

Yuji never bothered you much, for he was a kid with a bright future. He always made sure to greet you happily whenever he saw you, asking questions about what you were up to and humoring your desire to branch out on your own. Yuji Itadori may have been the only person in this world you had met who did not immediately judge you by your relation to your father, and for that, you had always admired the kid. You only hoped that the path his family led for him did not hinder his wonderful spirit.

His half-brother, Choso, was not in any way directly connected to the Itadori legacy, yet he was a member of the family nonetheless after having been estranged for years. He often kept to himself, straying away from the public light unlike the rest of his family. You weren’t entirely sure of what his goals were, however, he wasn’t a terrible guy. He was quiet, reserved. You would have pegged him as a misunderstood artist, or a poet, or something like that - far separated from the world of business that those around him were so heavily involved in. You doubted you would even see him tonight if he weren’t clinging to the wall in the corner with a bored look upon his face.

But then, the very worst of them all and perhaps the main reason why you didn’t want to attend this party, was Sukuna, Jin’s twin brother and Yuji’s uncle.

You weren’t even sure where to begin with him. Hell, you could barely decide who was the worst of them between him and Satoru, and that certainly was saying something.

Sukuna was an asshole in a far less playful and lighthearted manner than Satoru portrayed himself to be. He was the type of man to get ‘canceled’ by Twitter four times within a month, without providing any form of apology for the rather outlandish things he elected to say. He was often saved by his brother’s mercy, and let’s not fool ourselves, the curse of impeccably good genes that graced his facial and physical features.

Whenever something went south at the Itadoris’, it was mainly due to his antics and thirst for conflict. He figured that since he was already undeservingly wealthy, and not any successor of the company, he could get away with more than most, only when he behaved out of line, it had an impact on those who were actually involved in keeping the company afloat.

And oh, Sukuna loved when he threw his family into a scandal then acted as though he was not responsible, fading away back into the noise and watching the entertainment unfold.

You groaned. You felt it in your gut that something was going to go wrong tonight, especially so if Satoru intended to expose the two of you as a couple at this gala.

Dread flooded your stomach as the two of you pulled up into the gravel, past the thick ravine that surrounded the entryway just behind the gate. A man in black guided Satoru’s vehicle to a row of expensive cars lined the circle before the Itadori estate.

“Ugh,” you grumbled. “I hate this place.”

“Tell me something you don’t hate, sweetheart,” Satoru quipped, parking his vehicle and turning off the ignition. He turned to you, eyes glinting over his round frames with his hand still gripping the wheel. “Are you done pouting?”

“Are you done getting on my nerves?” you raised a brow, glaring at him. “The answer to that is no.”

“You can’t still be mad about me being late. I told you it was because of work,” he whined. “We have a whole night ahead of us. You need to let it go.”

“What work exactly were you doing to make you an hour late?”

“Does that even really matter right now?” he shifted. He reached an arm back, stretching over the back of your seat and pushing himself upward, invading your space slightly to reach for an item behind you. You leaned away, tightening your lips. Satoru glanced at you once he grabbed whatever he was looking for, seating himself properly back into his spot. “You could stand to not look so disgusted by being close to me, you know.”

“But I am disgusted by being close to you.”

“Then you won’t like what we’ll be doing soon at all,” he laughed slightly to himself, shaking his head. You opened your mouth to retort when he presented a small, velvet box in his hand before you, holding it to you over the console. You examined the box, your mouth falling open in shock. “Here. It’s yours.”

You furrowed your brows, looking at him incredulously. “That is not what I think it is.”

“Open it and find out,” he pushed it further into your lap.

You pushed your hand against his, shoving the box back to him. “I don’t want it.”

“(Y/n),” Satoru began, clearly becoming just as annoyed as you already were. “Neither of us want it, but you need to wear it. Open it and put it on, for god’s sake.”

“No! This will not be how you propose to me, Gojo - not in your car in the middle of the night at the Itadori estate!”

“I’m not proposing, you idiot. We’re already engaged. You need to wear it so people here can know that we’re together.”

“I’m not wearing it,” you argued stubbornly. Satoru’s brows angled, jaw clenching.

“Yes you are,” he murmured firmly.

“No, I’m not.”

Before you knew it, he was snatching your wrist up in his grasp forcefully. You yelped in retort, attempting to tug yourself away, but the Gojo heir’s strength proved to succeed your own, just as he did in every other aspect of your lives. You faltered slightly, watching with blown eyes as he held you securely with one hand and popped the box open with the other, revealing a breathtaking gold ring encrusted with a shimmering, turquoise gem in the midst of winding, plated vines.

You admitted that the piece of jewelry was absolutely beautiful, not to mention that it was gold - the color of jewelry you had worn all your life.

Wordlessly, Satoru pinched the ring between his fingers, lifting it from its velvet bed to slide onto your outstretched ring finger, settling it snugly around your digit. The warmth of his palm was immediately ripped away once you were wearing the ring. He turned to toss the box into the backseat over his shoulder behind him, then swiftly pushed open his car door.

“Happy?” he growled over his shoulder. You had nothing to say as you stared confoundedly at the ring he had just pulled onto your hand. “Great. Now let’s go.”

In the midst of your surprise by his forcefulness and by the way the ring complimented your hand, you followed his order and dazedly got out of the car, closing the door gently behind you with your gaze casted down to your hand.

You were too distracted to notice Satoru making his way over to you, and before you knew it, his arm was looping around yours, pulling your hand from your gaze and gluing you to him. You huffed when your side collided with his, your shoulder pressing into his bicep. You flinched and looked up as the blue eyed heir towered over your side. He peered at you out of the corner of his eye, catching the way you stared at him like a lost puppy, and his previous anger diminished slightly.

“What’s the matter?” his smooth voice slid out. “Getting flustered on me already?”

His comment immediately snapped you out of your trance and your face hardened once more. “Fuck no.”

He laughed, guiding the two of you slowly to the staircase. “But you like the ring, don’t you? I can see it all over your face.”

“It’s a ring, Gojo-”

“Satoru.”

“Whatever. It doesn’t mean I like you.”

“I mean, it could,” he proposed, allowing you to take the first step up as you gather the hem of your gown in your hands. You kept your eyes to your heels, proceeding carefully, and Satoru did the same while your mind was occupied, eyeing the motion of your feet intensely as your dress draped over your exposed angles, dangling from your pinched fingers. “The ring’s a family heirloom. It’s been passed down for generations. So you liking the ring at least means you like us just a little bit.”

“Are you serious?” you asked him. “I didn’t peg you guys for the gold jewelry type.”

“Guess there’s a lot you still don’t know about who I am,” he answered rather swiftly. The two of you finally made it up the stairs and stood before the wide doors of the estate.

“How late exactly are we?” you asked him, shifting uncomfortably on your feet as he tugged you closer into him. You bore a grim expression, looking off to the side.

“Uhhh, not that late,” Satoru responded. “Maybe about two hours.”

“HUH?!” you exclaimed. “Two?! You mean to tell me you were already trying to get me an hour after the party even started?”

“I was busy, and I never arrive at these things on time. I prefer being fashionably late.”

“There’s a difference between fashionably late and just late, dumbass.”

“Either way, we’ll make a big entrance. And that’s what we want, right?” he smirked down at you. “Attention.”

You sighed heavily. “I can’t believe I got talked into this.”

“You’ll be fine,” he drawled. “Just relax and stay with me. And remember, we’re getting married!” he pressed himself down to you, leaning his mouth toward the shell of your ear. “Try to act like it.”

You shuddered, recoiling aggressively. “Don’t do that!” you barked over his symphony of amused laughter.

The two of you entered the space as servants pulled the doors back for you, the symphony of classical music echoing through the pristine space. You were led past the main spiral staircase to the left, down winding hallways, through spacious corridors, and into the ballroom. The entryway was guarded by two marble, Greek statues on either side, welcoming its visitors regally.

You felt Satoru’s elbow tighten slightly around yours, catching your attention. His piercing eyes swallowed you whole, glasses tipping down the bridge of his nose as he looked at you. “Smile,” he whispered.

You yanked his arm back just as tightly, tilting your head with a tight jaw. “Don’t tell me what to do,” you grinned, bearing pretty teeth in a threatening, forced manner.

He smiled, breathing out softly, before entering the large space scattered with well-dressed, familiar faces, the most honored names within the small community of the 1%. You shivered as a cold gust of wind brushed over you, sprouting goosebumps across your bare skin as eyes flickered your way and whispers ignited in accordance to your arrival. Your eyes looked over the people, noting everyone you saw and praying to whatever god above that you wouldn’t run into Wasuke or Sukuna first thing tonight.

Thankfully, the two of you were greeted by Jin mere seconds after you stepped into the space. Hushed murmurs of gossip continued to circle the huge room, and you caught a few glances darting to your linked arms and the ring adorned on your finger.

The salmon haired heir approached you with a knowing look upon his face, eyes focused on Satoru tiredly with his hands clasped behind his back. Satoru bore a wide beam, nodding toward Jin casually.

“Jin,” Satoru greeted grandly. “So happy to be here. Thanks for having me.”

“Satoru,” the said man exhaled. “The gala ends in an hour. What the hell are you doing here so late?”

The white haired man shrugged. “Just got caught up in some business. You know how it goes.”

“Oh really? The same business that you often neglect to take care of your own personal needs? Like the time you took my son to the mall instead of signing off on papers?”

Satoru sucked in a gulp of air slowly, his smile remaining as shamefully as it always had been. “Damn, you know about that, huh? I could’ve sworn I bribed Yuji to keep that a secret.”

“There’s no need to bribe him, the kid can’t keep a secret to save his life. An honest one, that boy. Maybe too honest,” Jin murmured. “So what were you really doing?”

“Come on, Jin, don’t make me spell it out,” Satoru said cheekily, his attention suddenly turning to you. You perked up, put on the spot, and looked with confusion between the man at your side and the Itadori family heir. You reeled at the manner in which Satoru gazed at you, his eyes swollen with feigned admiration as his tone dripped with infatuation, albeit rather over the top. “I’m sure you’ve heard the news about (Y/n) and I. You remember the (L/n) daughter, don’t you?”

Your eye twitched while you tried to keep a steady, small smile. Jin turned to you, nodding. “How could I forget? You’re the girl who always manages to rile my brother up.”

You puckered your lips and knitted your brows together. “Uh-” you stopped. “What? You mean Sukuna?” Jin nodded again, a hint of an amused smile gracing his weary face. “I don’t remember ever sharing a conversation with that a- mm- I mean, I’ve– never really had the pleasure of crossing paths with him to even say something that would bother him.”

“Please, save it. I know my brother’s a monster,” he chuckled and you relaxed slightly. “That’s not what I meant anyway.”

“...Then what did you mean?”

Jin paused, shifting his heavy eyes between you and Satoru. “It’s nothing,” he elected to say. “Now, tell me- what is it you were saying about you and (Y/n), Satoru? Are you…?”

Satoru nodded, his smile molding into something rather tense. “Engaged,” he finished quickly. Jin visibly faltered, his rather cool exterior altering when the word fell upon his ears. Your breath hitched in your throat, for you hadn’t expected Satoru to jump right into blabbering your business to the whole world.

You felt his other hand creep over yours, the one attached to your conjoined arm, and he melted his touch into the back of your palm, smoothing gently over the skin and your ring. You tried not to jump, to pull away, to tear yourself far from the man when you felt the unwarranted and rather intimate contact. Your nose twitched slightly and your stance went rigid, eyes blank as your lips curled into what you believed to be something akin to a love stricken grin.

“...Engaged?” Jin repeated.

“Yep. For quite some time now, actually. We’ve just been keeping it quiet considering how our companies have always been with each other. But that’s all in the past now. I’m late because we just got so caught up in our newly betrothed excitement,” Satoru recited expertly. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

God, you wanted to kill him. You wanted to kill him so bad. If you could have just slapped him straight across his face and left a burning red handprint on his sickeningly perfect skin, you would have been satisfied, but instead, you buried the urge.

“That’s right,” you nodded, refusing to make eye contact with Satoru as you did.

Jin cleared his throat. “Well, congratulations. I would have truly never expected something like this.”

“Yeah, neither did I,” you giggled kindly, feeling the way Satoru physically reacted to the comment as subtly as possible when his fingers pressed into your knuckles.

“What she means is that we hadn’t expected to fall for each other so easily,” he clarified. “Who would have thought that I would settle down with someone like her?”

You sensed the backhandedness of his statement and swiftly bounced back. “It’s funny, I certainly wouldn’t have guessed I’d settle for someone like him either. Not in a million years,” you grinned, finding his eyes when you tilted your head back up to him. The two of you communicated through your tense gazes, exchanging sentiments of aggravation nonverbally, momentarily forgetting that Jin still stood before you.

The said main puffed a laugh, raising his brows. “Hey, as long as the two of you are happy.”

You and Satoru turned your heads back to him at the same time. “Very,” you unified.

“And what about your parents? What do they think?”

“You know, it took some adjusting, but they’re actually taking quite well to it now,” Satoru said.

“Surprisingly, right?”

“I bet,” Jin said. “Alright then. I’ll be sure to ask (L/n) and Gojo for the details. The family and I will be happy to make it.”

“Better clear your calendar soon,” you hissed quietly under your breath, Satoru tugging you in warning though Jin did not hear.

“Trust me, you guys will be the first on the list,” Satoru grinned.

“We appreciate it,” Jin said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to make sure my brother hasn’t harassed any more of our guests. Enjoy the evening. Or whatever’s left of it at least.”

You smiled and waved as Jin bid you farewell, watching him turn and leave. “Care to knock it off?” Satoru growled from beside you.

Your smile dropped as you looked at him heatedly. You turned to stand before him, unlinking your arms and prying his fingers away from your hand. “I told you that I don’t wanna be here, and you pissed me off. I’m not in the mood to play nice.”

“That’s your issue, (Y/n), you never are,” he grumbled. “You act like a spoiled brat. You can’t get everything you want in this life and pout because of it.”

“Watch your mouth, Gojo. Don’t pretend to know who I am or why I act the way I do.”

“But you can do the same to me without consequence?” he challenged. “You’re a hypocrite above everything else, too. And for the last time, my name is not Gojo.”

“And I told you I don’t care,” you leaned in, pursing your lips together stubbornly as Satoru returned your hard glare. You had failed to notice the proximity in which the two of you had closed into one another, your faces mere centimeters away as your mutual frustration fueled your minds.

Fortunately for the two of you, from the outside perspective, you appeared as though you were cosying up to one another, keeping close in the bliss of your personal bubble. You clicked your teeth and pulled away eventually.

“I’m going to get a drink.”

Satoru seemed to oppose the idea, stepping forward to reach for you, but you dodged him. “We need to be seen together more-”

“Then have your dad take another secret picture of us and plaster it all over Tokyo for all I care. That’ll last longer than any second we spend with each other in person,” you said sternly before turning off to the organized array of drinks on the other side of the room. Satoru stood and watched you march away tensely, hands clenching into fists and unclenching at your sides as your heels clicked loudly against the floor. You disappeared into the crowd, gown fluttering at your feet, and he sighed. He truly didn’t understand how you could behave in such a complicated manner. He didn’t understand you at all, and it was gnawing away at him minute by minute.

The night drifted on rather slowly, despite the fact that only an hour had remained when the two of you got to the estate. You had successfully shaken Satoru off of your back for the time being while you occupied yourself with speaking to Yuji and a few other people you had stolen the time to catch up with. Each person you spoke to asked the same question of whether you and Satoru were together, which you reluctantly affirmed each time with the flash of your ring before greedy eyes. Gasps of delight ensued and you masked yourself with an expression of giddiness, soaking in everyone’s reactions. Yuji himself had been rather confused to hear the news, considering how well he knew you and Satoru, but congratulated you happily nonetheless. Wasuke, however, who you inevitably ran into, held you captive by a ten minute tangent about the horrors of marriage, which you honestly couldn’t find yourself to disagree much with in this case scenario.

Satoru kept a sneaking eye on you the entire time you were parted, watching the way you lifted the rim of a glass to your painted lips daintily, glassy eyes moving over the room with contempt as you feigned politeness. His lips flattened into a firm line as he watched you, studying with simmering annoyance. Despite your constant complaining, you managed a room very well with your false exclamations of joy. You had a presence about you, certainly so in the dress you wore, though he had always known you to be a woman of great beauty. He could recognize that from a general standpoint.

Still, the way you behaved irked him to his very core. He didn’t understand how you so easily blasphemed his character and everything he stood for when you paraded about with the same riches and privilege. You thought too highly of yourself, withholding this image of righteousness and uniqueness that deluded you into the fantasy of going to law school and trying to branch out from under your father’s firm. You looked at Satoru as if you were insulted by his very existence, as though he reminded you of the worst parts of yourself, and you took this insecurity of yours out on him. Granted, Satoru knew that he could be a handful. He had heard so from plenty, watched the many different ways people reacted to his carefree, audacious personality, but he didn’t care. He knew who he was and wore his pride on his sleeve unapologetically, but you didn’t seem to know who you were at all and you made it his problem.

Satoru never wanted to marry you, despite his fascination with pushing your buttons. He couldn’t say that he hated you though. What he felt for you was more so a form of befuddlement by your sheer naivety and your quickness to turn the blame of your own doing to anyone but yourself. He found you vexing, at times, because you couldn’t own up to your truest self. He thought you were bratty, mouthy, and prissy, but he didn’t hate you. Not the way you hated him.

He wasn’t ecstatic when his father first presented the news of the two of you marrying because he knew how things would go with you. You were impossible to work with, and yes, Satoru knew that his teasing didn’t make your tolerance of him any more plausible, but even in putting that aside, you refused to meet him halfway or see him eye to eye. It drove him crazy.

You couldn’t even fathom standing by his side for more than five minutes at a party. You were too caught up in yourself and your hatred for him, or more so the effect he had on you, that it interfered with your social abilities and therefore Satoru’s goals.

God, you were a pain. A gorgeous, stubborn, spoiled pain that Satoru had the misfortune of marrying. Utahime’s words faded off into white noise as she yammered on to the white haired man before him, his mind stuck to you and the very meticulous ways you aggravated his entire being.

You were heading over to find another drink presented by a waiter when your path was suddenly blocked. You halted, looking up past the broad suited chest before you to find the second face you dreaded craning over you with a sly grin. You failed to hide your disdain, your face dropping and your shoulders slumping the second your eyes met the crimson ones before you.

“Sukuna,” you groaned. “What a lovely surprise.”

“Is it?” his smirk widened, hands tucked into his slack pockets, voice dripping with malice. “It doesn’t seem like you’re very happy to see me.”

“What. No, I’m thrilled,” you said flatly with no emotion, and Sukuna hummed.

“Clearly,” he jumped his brows. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you tonight.”

“Well, I was praying you wouldn’t.”

He tutted lightly, dragging his brows together as if to scold you with his expression. “Come now, don’t be so rude. You are a guest in my home, after all.”

“Technically, this is your brother’s home.”

“Technically, it’s Wasuke’s but that’s besides the point. We all live here, so the details of whose house it was in the first place are of no importance.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure.”

“So, let’s cut to the chase,” the burly man began. He took a step close to you, moving to your side as his eyes wandered the area, then back to your face deviously. “I saw you come in with Gojo.”

Great. Another interrogation. “Yeah. So?”

“Jin says you’re dating, now. That true?”

You shook your head, twisting your mouth up. “If it is, why do you care?”

“Everybody cares, doll. You’re the talk of the town these days. I’m just trying to get my facts straight.” His body turned into you, and you shuffled back slightly. “Is it true?”

“You know, people used to have this thing called privacy. You ever heard of that?”

A low chuckle rumbled through Sukuna’s chest. “What’s the use of privacy when you live like this?” he questioned. “The notion’s practically nonexistent.”

“Then it’s out of the question to tell you to mind your own business?”

His smirk widened, blood red eyes simmering into you. “You’re always so feisty.”

“And you’re always a creep.”

“Am I now?” he mused. “You’re avoiding my question.”

“Because I obviously don’t want to talk to you about my love life, Sukuna.”

“Then I was right. You are together.”

You were about to reply when a body pressed into you from behind, pushing into the space between you and Sukuna and settling itself close to you at once. You knew it was Satoru when the scent of his signature cologne invaded your nostrils and the familiar rigidness of his buff, lanky form collided into your own. Sukuna was forced to step back slightly when Satoru invaded, and you jumped when a hand snaked itself around your waist and rested snugly.

You glanced down at the sight, the way Satoru’s hand clutched at your side and pulled you into him almost possessively. When you caught the look on his face, you noticed a bitterness swimming in his eyes and biting at his jaw. Though his glossed lips pressed into a smile he had worn all night, this one appeared blatantly exaggerated.

“Isn’t it clear by the ring on her finger?” Satoru grinned, blinking at the salmon haired rogue. “Or maybe your sense of sight is starting to fail you after all these years. You gettin’ old, Ryomen?”

“What? I can’t ask the woman a question myself?” Sukuna crossed his arms, eyes slimming when he registered the sight of Satoru before him. “I hate to jump to conclusions. I don’t like to believe everything I hear without going to the source first.”

“If you’ve heard our names circulating, then you’ve heard that we’re getting married.”

Sukuna made an unimpressed scoffing noise, lifting his painted fingers to scratch the side of his jaw as he eyed you suspiciously. “Like I said, I don’t believe everything I hear,” he muttered lowly. “How long exactly has this been going on?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you countered. Ryomen flashed an enticed grin your way, and Satoru’s fingers instinctively dug further into your side. You could tell by his body language and the way his grip tightened around you that he and Sukuna did not exactly enjoy each other’s company. You assumed by the way he had swooped in that there was something he felt he needed to prove to Jin’s twin, and whether it was his superiority as a businessman or as your ‘fiance’ you weren’t sure, but what you did know, or believe, was that it was still all for show.

“Honey, the man’s asking, so there’s no need to keep any details from him, hm?” Satoru proposed sweetly, his eyes still burning into Sukuna’s face as he spoke to you. You remained hesitant to play into his behavior, though Sukuna’s interference admittedly made you want to fit into the role more than you had when he wasn’t pestering you. Nevertheless, hearing Satoru address you as ‘sweetheart’ and ‘honey’ proceeded to rub you the wrong way. You chalked it up to disgust at first, but the pit in your stomach that was forming due to discomfort was attempting to sway you.

Maybe it was because he was calling you such cute names while his arm was wrapped around you. The contact was rather foreign to the both of you, yet Satoru did so as though he had done it a hundred times over.

It felt… odd, in the sense that it didn’t feel terribly out of place.

Your underlying bitterness still peeked through and impacted the shift of your opinions. As strangely natural as Satoru’s touch abruptly felt, your disapproval of the evening and the overall ordeal remained. Satoru was your fiance, not your friend or lover.

“Seems like she doesn’t have much to say,” Sukuna jumped in. “Possibly because… it’s not true,” Sukuna posed, rolling his head to the side as he surveyed Satoru’s reaction devilishly. In many ways, you noticed the similarities between the two men like this. They both sought to bring a rise out of others, though Sukuna aimed to do so with as much ill-willed intent as possible and a very obvious lack of subtlety. In comparison, Satoru seemed like a saint when Sukuna uttered the most foul things he could think of to piss someone off. You could tell he was simply charging up to do so in this case scenario.

“How could it not be true when the goddamn ring is on her finger,” Satoru shot back slyly, eyes narrowing. “If you really want, I could bring the signed papers for you to see too. Would that be real enough for you?”

“I just find it hard to believe that miss ‘hard-to-get’ here managed to settle down within the span of a month,” Sukuna shrugged. He looked back down at you. “Could’ve sworn you told me you were never gonna entertain another man, much less get married to one.”

“I’m sure she was only saying that about you,” Satoru chuckled. “Since you couldn’t take a hint if a meteor was hurtling toward the earth and (Y/n) shoved you into its path.”

“You really think she wouldn’t do the same to you once she gets tired of pretending?” Sukuna’s brow raised. “I can see right through you. I know what this is really about.”

“I do too. It’s about my future wife preferring to marry me over having two seconds of regrettable sex with you.”

“Ha!” Sukuna bursted out, leaning forward slightly with the release of his aggressive amusement. “Regrettable? I may be a lot of things, but my dick is anything but that.”

“OKAY!” you exclaimed, pushing your hands at the both of their chests, shoving them away from each other. Satoru’s hand failed to leave your waist as you moved, his eyes holding a coldness to them that made his smile appear rather daunting as he stared at Sukuna. “Whatever the fuck is going on with you guys, knock it off right now. This is not the time or place to have a dick measuring contest. Alright?” you lectured, looking wildly between the two men. Sukuna watched you with lazy hilarity as Satoru tugged you back to him.

“I’d win one anyway,” he grumbled, your back colliding with his chest.

You turned to give him an exasperated glare. “I doubt it,” Sukuna pushed.

“Enough,” you hissed. “The fuck is wrong with you two?”

“Wh- he started it!” Satoru accused, looking down at you from over your shoulder.

“And you entertained it,” you growled.

“Uh oh,” Sukuna snickered. “Trouble in paradise? All because of me?”

“Jesus Christ, Sukuna, find a hobby.”

“I’ve got plenty of hobbies, doll.”

“Don’t call my wife ‘doll,’” Satoru frowned.

“Sorry, does she prefer ‘baby?’”

Satoru hummed lightly. “You know what I’d prefer?” he simpered, holding you close. “Taking this outside.”

“Must you always resort to violence?” Sukuna exhaled as though he weren’t practically known for his tendency to get involved in unnecessary brawls at bars. “And at my family home of all places. Tch, some heir to the Gojo firm you are. I bet your father’s real disappointed in how you’re turning out, but it seems he doesn’t have much of a choice but to trust you against his better judgment.”

“What the fuck did you just say?”

Satoru’s smile widened into something almost sadistic, his grip on you finally slacking to inch toward a confidently still Ryomen. You butted in again, wedging yourself directly in between the two of them, trying your best to handle the situation without drawing much attention.

You pressed yourself into Satoru, urging him back. “Stop it,” you demanded.

Your fiance didn’t even look like he had heard you, though he allowed your touch to guide him back despite his overwhelming strength in comparison to yours. He stumbled about with a wicked expression, eyes locked in a murderous haze. You had never seen Satoru look so riled up before, on the brink of insanity. It had all happened so fast as well, and you weren’t exactly sure how to handle the situation.

“No, let him swing,” Sukuna urged. “I’m sure his father will love to see the headline in the morning. ‘Gojo Successor Throws Punch at Itadori Twin on a Generously Extended Invitation to Family Gala.’ It’s got a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“Sure does. I wonder how the headline would change if I stomped your face in,” Satoru mused, moving to approach once more, but you pushed him back with all your might.

“Satoru!” you seethed through gritted teeth, voice dropping with intensity. He blinked, flickering his eyes down at you hesitantly, caught suddenly between your objective and his own. Sukuna puckered his lips as though to make a silent ‘ooo’ sound, taunting Satoru from behind you. The blue eyed man eventually ripped his gaze completely from Sukuna and met your eyes. “Cut it out,” you mouthed carefully, pupils shrunken and hand pressed firmly to the space in which his heart beated rapidly amid his chest, your other hand firm on his shoulder.

Gojo’s chest rose and fell slowly, deeply, eyes searching your own as he slowly allowed his resolve to crumble under the severity of your gaze and the press of your palms to him. He had never seen you so serious before, so dominant with intensity when you normally took to whining and pouting around. Not only that, but you were trying to protect him from his own behavior, or perhaps you were protecting yourself, which was the real reason why you looked so sincere. Either way, it succeeded in convincing him to back off when he normally would not have bothered to stop and think about what he was doing.

“I’ll be damned,” Sukuna snorted, catching your attention. His eyes hardened, clearly disappointed in his failure to push Satoru to the edge.

“What?” you grimaced.

He breathed out heavily, closing his eyes. “Looks like you’re together after all.”

You furrowed your brows. “What does that mean?”

“Just that not even Satoru’s father can bring him down the way you just did. And we all know how Satoru’s father is,” he responded, suddenly disinterested. Your brain stuttered, unsure exactly of what Sukuna was implying by the notion. “Just don’t go off staining any of the couches in the house. They’re more expensive than all of our lives combined.”

Sukuna turned to leave when he stopped himself, looking back at you. “And if you ever get bored, you know where to find me.”

“Fuck off,” you snapped, leading him to chuckle and walk away.

The moment Sukuna disappeared, you grew hyperware of your hands still placed on Satoru’s chest. You turned back to him and swiftly let your hands fall, clearing your throat as Satoru followed Ryomen’s fading figure with his eye. “What a tool,” Satoru snarled. “Imagine if we were a real couple and he said that stuff. He’d have gotten his windpipe crushed.”

“I don’t know,” you started, eying Satoru questioningly. “You looked pretty ready to kill him anyway. Wanna tell me what that was about?”

The white haired man scratched the back of his head, looking off to the side with an exhale. “Not really,” he told you. “He and I have always hated each other’s guts.”

“I can see that,” you shook your head. “Seriously, what were you thinking? You were just gonna fight him in the middle of his ballroom? With all these people watching?”

“Calm down, jeez. You get worked up so easily.”

“Me? You just threatened to beat his ass!”

“For show, (Y/n). For show,” he smiled. “And I’m pretty sure it worked. He was convinced that we’re together by the time he left, wasn’t he?”

“Not to pretend like I know you very well, but I’ve seen the way you are when you act. That wasn’t acting. You looked pissed. For real.”

“Aw, thanks,” he beamed. “Must mean my practicing is paying off.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“Hey, I was doing you a favor,” the blue eyed man defended, his hands finding his hips. “You weren’t exactly enjoying your conversation with him. I helped you get out of it.”

“Which, by the way, you did not have to do by grabbing my waist!” you pointed out, recalling the touch that swarmed your lower half. “You need to learn more about personal space.”

“How many times do we have to go over the fact that I need to be handsy with you to convince people we’re together,” he craned his neck to ask you, looking down at your stubborn expression.

“Not the way you did it. That was way too intimate.”

“And what’s so wrong about that? Husbands and wives are intimate with each other all the time.”

“Yeah, but we’re not an ordinary husband and wife- we’re not even husband and wife yet.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever,” Satoru blabbered, leaning back to stand up straight.

“I’m serious, Satoru. We need to talk about what just happened.”

The Gojo paused the wandering of his eyes, looking down at you as a grin spread over his face, his eyes twinkling. You looked at him oddly in return.

“What are you looking at?”

“You’re calling me Satoru now.”

“I-” you stopped yourself, realizing that you had let his first name slip when you were trying to regulate his argument, or whatever the hell that was, with Sukuna. You clamped your mouth shut, having subconsciously gone against your own promise to yourself. Satoru only continued smiling smugly at you, awaiting a response. “…Shit. I did.”

Satoru’s chest jumped with laughter. “All on your own, too. Isn’t that something.”

“Look, I had to get your attention somehow. It just slipped out,” you rubbed your brow. “Don’t make it a big deal.”

“It is a big deal~” he sang, stepping closer to you.

You held your hand out. “What did we say about personal space?”

“You’re warming up to meeee.”

“No, no,” you pointed out your index finger, tilting your chin downward. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

Gojo pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, keeping his grin contained.“At least just a little bit.”

Against your better judgment, you felt the corners of your lips twitch slightly, his rather contagious pestering at long last impacting your mood. The moment you caught wind of yourself almost smiling, you forced the feeling away, looking everywhere but at Satoru and doing your damndest to look as though you were unmoved. You blamed the slip on the two glasses of champagne you had welcomed yourself to.

“I’m still mad at you for being late,” you reminded him. “And for even dragging me to this hellhole in the first place - two hours into the event.”

Bright hues of crystal blue held the vision of you for a bit longer, as though the heir were thinking, until he finally spoke again. “I’m kinda hungry.”

You were puzzled momentarily. “Okay…? They’ve got… like… horderves here.”

“No, I’m hungry for real food,” Satoru clarified. “Like a burger or something.”

You still weren’t sure which direction he was taking this declaration into. “Alright. And you’re telling me this because…?”

“You wanna get out of here?”

You stilled. “For a burger?”

“Why not?” he grinned.

“...You’re not asking me on a date, are you?”

“I’m asking you if you’re hungry and want to leave, because either way, I’m dipping in the next two minutes and you’d have to come anyway. Besides, you’ve been going on and on about how badly you wanna get out of here.”

You were torn. On the one hand, you were absolutely working up and appetite and itching to run as far away from this stuffy scene as possible though you had only been present for about forty-five minutes, but on the other hand, you weren’t sure if you could handle spending any more one on one time with Satoru.

Even so, you only dreaded so because for some reason, you weren’t entirely opposed to the idea at the moment. It had felt like such a long night already, and you were already out and about… you figured another hour or so with the Gojo wouldn’t kill you. You admitted that he somewhat defended your honor tonight with Sukuna, whether it was for his own gain or not, and you couldn’t deny the fact that you would have killed for a burger at this late hour.

You didn’t feel very suffocated by Satoru as you stood before him, though you had felt so up until this very moment. That alone frightened you, confounded you, sparked the gears to turn in your head over what about this gala had you softening to accept your fate just a little bit, succumbing to the will of your father and playing the tiniest bit nice.

Hell, you didn’t know, but you truthfully hoped that you would snap back to reality the following morning. For now, however, a meal was on your mind.

“Well?” Satoru urged and you huffed in defeat.

“You’re lucky I’m starving,” you said. “And I wanna get the hell out of here.”

“I can’t believe for once in our lives we’re on the same page.”

“Don’t get used to it. And I’m only coming if you’re paying.”

The two of you shamelessly conducted an irish goodbye when departing, and half an hour later found yourselves in the parking lot of a rather deserted fast food drive through at the other edge of the city, the distant sound of horns honking and tires screeching drifting off into the background. You leaned your head back in Satoru’s passenger seat, fingers graciously clutching the cheeseburger in your hand as you stared up at the starry night sky peacefully, chewing quietly.

Satoru sat with his seat reclined and his legs propped over the dash, his tie undone and dress shirt unbuttoned, blazer tossed carelessly in the back. He sipped the straw of his soda as he held what had to be his second or third burger in his other hand, keeping his gaze on the same sky above as his bluetooth transitioned into the next queued up song.

You found this moment reluctantly tranquil, your energies to bicker occupied by the satiation of your hunger and your building exhaustion. After a night of shallow interactions and little food, the greasy meals within your grasps tasted like heaven had melted onto your tongues and jolted your senses back to life, therefore, you ate in peaceful seclusion.

“Can I ask you a question?”

You turned to look at Satoru, mouth full and cheeks round with food. A spec of ketchup dotted the corner of your mouth and the white haired man laughed lightly at the sight before you swallowed and swiped the back of your hand over your lips.

“Why do you always wanna ask questions?” you mumbled, distracted by your next bite.

Satoru peeled back the wrapper of his burger, the paper crinkling loudly over his music. “I’m a curious guy,” he said simply, looking down at the food in his hands. “What was going on with you and Sukuna back there?”

You hummed in retort, bringing your burger to your mouth to take another bite. “Y’mean- with how he was talkin t’me?” you asked, voice muffled as you shielded your mouth to chew and talk at the same time.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “It was kinda weird.”

“Dunno,” you shrugged. “He’s always been like that with me.”

“But you told Jin that you’ve never had any interaction with him. Why lie?”

You swallowed, angling your brows. “I didn’t lie. I misunderstood. I’ve never had an interaction that warranted Sukuna being angry with me, which was what I thought Jin was trying to say earlier, but I guess not.”

“Oh,” Satoru nodded, proceeding to eat again himself. He tucked his soda cup back into his cup holder and tilted his head back, eyes searching the black sheet above as he charged up his next question. “So, he basically just wants to fuck you and you’ve always rejected him?”

Your mouth twisted upward at his words. “I mean- I guess, but you don’t have to be so vulgar about it,” you responded. “Plenty of men behave that way with me, which is why I don’t pay them any mind.”

“Sure, but Sukuna’s in a league of his own.”

“Yeah, a league of belligerent douchiness,” you quipped, causing Satoru to chuckle. “He just likes to push my buttons. Like someone else I know.”

You eyed the blue eyed twenty-six year old, and he rolled his eyes. “Hey, don’t lump me in a box with that prick. What he does is borderline sexual harassment.”

“Oh please, like you’ve never consistently hit on a girl who hasn’t been interested in you.”

“Can’t say I have, ‘cause women are always interested in me.” You scoffed.

“Whatever. You two have your resemblances.”

Satoru lowered his burger to his lap, looking at you in astonishment as though you had offended him. “Like what?”

You pressed your lips together, suppressing a smirk. “You both get on my nerves.”

“That’s not grounds enough to compare us like that!” Satoru exclaimed. “Only one of us has something actually going for his life while the other wreaks havoc because he’s bored. Not to mention, I’m more likable, more popular, more handsome, funnier, more charming- I could go on.”

“Please don’t,” you begged. “You obviously have more of a problem with him than I do.”

“I’ve just never liked him,” Satoru sighed. “He thinks he has the authority to knock me down, but he doesn’t. Yet he keeps trying and trying. It’s like he wants to see me fail for some reason.”

“You think he’s jealous?”

“Ryomen doesn’t get jealous. He just gets competitive.”

You looked down, crumbling up your wrapper into the balls of your hands once you had finished your burger. You avoided eye contact with Satoru as you prepared to speak. “And that stuff he was saying about your father?”

Satoru fell quiet for a second, his playlist filling in for his silence. “What about it?” he finally asked, his voice deflating. You could tell that this was a sore topic.

“That was what set you off in the first place. After he was targeting me, he went for your dad and you let him get to your head.”

“That’s…” Satoru took in a breath, turning his head away from you. “Something entirely different.”

“Is it?” you said slowly. “Is there… something I should know? Considering I’ll be a part of the family.”

“No,” he answered quickly. “I mean- nothing that concerns you. My father is…” he trailed off, searching for the words to say. He must have noticed that he was trekking further into uncomfortable, foreign territory, and his eyes got that distant look in them again. It wasn’t like him to be so occupied mentally by something. Examining his reaction to your gentle prying about his father was surreal, for you had never pegged Satoru to be an emotional or swayed person. Yet here he was, struggling to describe how he felt about his own flesh and blood.

You knew the Gojo head to be a stern man, and a rather dislikeable one, but you had never stopped to think about how his personality clashed with Satoru's, who harbored such a free spirit. There was never any mention of a mother in the picture, for as long as you’d known about the Gojos, it had always just been Satoru and his dad as well as their predecessors, but perhaps there was more. Perhaps there was an underlying reason behind Satoru’s attitude welded within the burden of his family name shoved onto his shoulders by a cold and calculating father who had prioritized business training over emotional connection with his son.

It was second nature to ponder over it now, but you had never bothered to before, having been so blinded by your hatred for them.

And for someone who was always so quick to give you replies, Satoru was surely taking his time to answer.

“My father’s a tough guy,” he eventually elected to say.

You leaned a hand over to grab hold of your fries, jutting your brows in agreement. “I can see that,” you said. “He must get on your ass a lot since you’re his successor.”

“You have no idea,” he mumbled, picking at his wrapper. Your gaze lingered curiously as he looked down, yet the moment he looked up again, you turned away. “Anyway,” he tried to lighten the mood and change the subject. “Again, not your issue.”

“If you say so… but the man will be my father in law, so I figure I should know at least a little bit.”

“I’m sure you’ve already noticed everything you need to know about my family.”

You thought back to the robotic servant hands gripping at your body and the inhospitable words of Satoru’s father as he privately guided you through his expectations. “You’ve got a point,” you admitted. “I will say, you seem to stand out in that setting.”

“Hm?” he bit and chewed. “How so?”

“You seem a little more lighthearted than the rest of them when you’re being an arrogant dick.”

He snickered. “Do I, now?”

“Yeah, but take that as you will.”

“Are you trying to say I’m more tolerable than the rest of my family?”

“No- stop putting words into my mouth,” you pinched a fry between your fingers. “I’m just saying, even though you’re still bad, you’re a little warmer than the people I’ve met at your estate. Psh, especially your dad. That man could make hell freeze over.”

You stopped yourself when you lifted a fry to your lips, believing you had possibly crossed a line when mentioning his father in such a way.

“Sorry,” you murmured, shoving the fry into your mouth to shut yourself up.

Satoru sported a humorous grin, dimples popping as he gazed at you in surprise. “Don’t apologize on my account,” he said, lifting a free hand to nudge your arm playfully. You shot him a weary look. “That actually makes me feel better.”

“Hearing me shit talk your dad makes you feel better?”

“Believe me, I’m surrounded by plenty of people who ride his ass out of fear or greed without knowing the worst of it behind closed doors,” he confessed bitterly. “It’s a good change of pace, your disapproval of him. Which, obviously, I know goes hand in hand with your disapproval of me,” he was quick to add.

He reached his hand over and stole a fry from your bag, and you quickly turned your food away and tucked it under your arm. “Hey! Eat your own food, fat ass!”

“I paid, so it’s all fair game,” he smirked, making a show of eating your fry before your eyes very slowly.

“You’re wicked,” you frowned.

“I know, sweetheart, I’m terrible,” he played along, his comment earning him a swat to his shoulder that he took like a champ by laughing at. “Enough about my father, though. What about your dad?”

“Ugh,” you groaned. “Do we have to talk about our families?”

“You’re who one who started this conversation…” Satoru kicked back further, tilting his head completely to you to show that you had his full focus. “What’s he really like?”

“You seem to have your own opinions of him already,” you said, referring to all the times Satoru had delivered conniving comments about your dad and his practice for you to hear.

“I have my business opinions of him,” he modified. “I don’t know what the man is actually like beyond that.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, he’s my dad,” you quickly said, not entirely desiring to indulge this topic. “He works hard. He tries his best to make the right decisions.”

“You seem pretty close to him.”

You looked at him. “What makes you say that?”

“In comparison to how my dad and I are. I don’t know, I can just see it in the way you talk.”

“...Has anyone ever told you you’re nosy?”

“Yeah.”

You scoffed a laugh, lowering your head with a soft smile. Satoru studied the sight closely, unfamiliar with such a sign of contentedness portrayed by you in his company.

“I guess you could say we’re close, sure,” you mumbled. “It’s just me and him, too.”

Satoru shifted, turning his upper body to face you as he lounged. “No mom?”

You exhaled. “No.”

“...She’s not dead, is she?”

“No, no,” you shook your head. “Well, actually, I don’t know. She ran off when I was five. I never really knew her.”

“Oh,” Satoru deflated. A stiff moment of silence settled between you as the man tried to figure out how to respond. “That’s… sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you assured him strangely, for you had never heard Satoru apologize to you. “Like I said, I didn’t know her.” You paused. “What about yours?”

“Ah,” he scratched the back of his neck, a hesitant, awkward smile befalling him. “Dead.”

Your eyes widened and your heart dropped. You hadn’t expected him to admit such a thing, and to do so in such a casual way. “Wh-? She…?” you stammered. “I- I had no clue.”

“How could you have? She’s the one thing my father doesn’t talk about or share with the whole world. Only a few people know that. The rest of the world probably just thinks it’s always been my dad and I, which I guess, it always has,” he explained.

You turned your body, sympathy overtaking you as you faced Satoru with severity. “How old were you?”

“Younger than you were. Probably four,” he said calmly. “I didn’t really know my mom either. I do remember how she felt, though,” he began, eyes glazing over as he looked past you, daydreaming. “I only know because she was the only source of warmth I ever felt in that house. Then it was gone so fast.”

Your brows drew together, heart hammering with empathy. “That must have been hard.”

Satoru noticed the glint in your eye, one of sadness rather than pity, and he cleared his throat. “I was a tough kid. It wasn’t so bad.”

“Still… I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t kill her, (Y/n).”

“I know, but-” you stopped, pursing your lips. “I know…”

Satoru smiled. “Don’t look so sad. Sweet of you to care, but it’s a little weird seeing you all choked up because of me. Where’d that fire of yours go?”

“I’m not a monster, Satoru,” you clicked your tongue. “Besides, I know what it’s like to grow up without a mom.”

“...I guess we have at least that in common.”

You tapped your fingers against your bag restlessly, nodding slowly. “I think my dad and I are close because of it,” you eventually said.

Satoru looked over your face. “Yeah?”

“We have our moments, of course. We don’t see eye to eye on everything, including this whole… arranged marriage thing, but I can see he’s just trying to do what’s best for us. I think I give him a hard time for it.”

“All kids do that to their parents,” Satoru chuckled. “Especially daughters with their fathers. You guys get away with everything.”

You smiled to yourself. “He tells me the same thing… I wanted so badly to make my own life, but he never saw the purpose in me doing that.”

“I can’t say I see the purpose in it either, if I’m being honest.”

You frowned. “Why?”

“Look at me, (Y/n). My whole life has already been planned out for me, and I've got no reason to stray elsewhere. Not a lot of men in this world get to say that they were born into a wealthy home and have had a successful career on lock since the day they were born.”

“Okay, but haven’t you ever wanted something different? Haven’t you ever wanted to create your own path?”

“Of course I have, I’m a human being,” he said obviously. “But this is my legacy, and that also doesn’t mean that I have to take everything on the same way my father did. He calls me a disappointment because I like to have fun and not be cooped up in an office every hour of the day. I get my work done and I do what I have to do, but I’m gonna still be different nonetheless, which is the only path of freedom I take.

“People say I’m irresponsible and childish, but I don’t know anyone on this planet who lives happily as an emotionless slave to labor. If I’m gonna work for the rest of my life, I can at least do so with personality- in my own way. My dad may not agree, and he may call me a disappointment, and it may suck, but I don’t care. Either way, I’ll still be rich and I’ll have my dignity intact, which isn’t something a lot of people like me can say.”

You stared at Satoru blankly, taking in his words carefully. He caught the way you looked at him and sighed once more, smiling gently. “Look. I get how you feel. I really do. We’re both in this together, but you have to take a second sometimes and realize just how good you have it by even having the choice of not working for the rest of your life. You turn your nose up at everyone else like you because you’ve got this idea in your head about what life should be, but I don’t even think you’ve seen life through the eyes of the ordinary people who actually live it. You think you know, but you don’t.

“You and I may never agree on anything. We may never like each other. We may very well be miserable for the rest of our lives, but you will be secure and I will take care of you because that’s my responsibility. Yours is to just trust that I’ll do just that, whether you want to or not. I don’t blame you for wanting to build yourself up. I don’t blame you for going to law school, and I don’t even blame you for resenting the world we live in, but you need to have more of an open mind. I’m not here to trap you, I’m here to help you.”

Your eyes searched for him, his honesty entrapping you in the isolation of his overwhelming regard. You wanted to argue, to tell him off for even thinking to lecture you so similarly to how your father would have and even had in the past, but you felt no anger. You felt no agitation or aggrievance. For the first time in your life, you saw Satoru Gojo rather clearly before you, untouched by the bias of your judgment or your father’s, untampered by your headstrong displeasure and resentment. He wasn’t trying to irritate you, he was trying to connect with you.

Even so, you couldn’t agree with him.

“All my life, people have been telling me not to work,” you started. “Nobody understood why I wanted to push myself, or why I got so passionate about steering away from the title of my father’s daughter. I know you think I’m spoiled and naive. The whole of Japan thinks the same thing. I’m not surprised, and I can’t even really tell you how you should think of me. Because you don’t know me. Not really.”

You looked back up to the sky, examining its vastness.

“It may have been stupid to go to school. It may have been stupid to fight with my dad so much about it, and it may have been stupid to dream so far out of my reach… but I don’t care. You’re not a woman, Satoru. You’re an heir and you’re a man. I don’t get to take on my father’s business, because even with all my knowledge about his work and having been raised within it, he doesn’t trust me as a woman to handle it. I either have to live as an extension of him or as myself, and it’s damn near impossible to do the latter. I know that. I’ve always known that, but I couldn’t just hold myself back because of what society expects me to do. I couldn’t just stop dreaming and wanting for myself. I couldn’t give up on me, and yes, it’s a naive way of thinking, but as long as I had a mind and an ambition, it was enough for me to try.

“Men look at me and see a little girl with a head full of fantasies, but I’m more than that. I’m me. I know what the world is like, and I don't negate that, but that doesn’t mean I have to push down my desires in accordance with how other people live. I’m my own person. I never asked to be stripped of my privilege, I just asked to be independent. To be addressed as (Y/n) and not my father’s daughter. As a woman in this world, I’m supposed to just sit back, look pretty, and not think. I’m supposed to be content, to marry and serve as a trophy or a piece of arm candy, but that’s not me. It never has been, and the more I speak my mind about it, the stupider people think I am. That’s not something any man can understand from a woman’s point of view.”

Something unreadable flashed in Satoru’s eyes as he listened to you. When you found his gaze again, you weren’t entirely sure what it was. He had mellowed out, his breathing steady and tranquil as he took you in, really took you in after having judged you so harshly, and you him.

His glasses, having been removed for quite some time now, sat on the dash beside his feet and his brilliant gem-like eyes pieced you apart wordlessly, dug into your soul and into your mind.

His snowy lashes fluttered delicately over his orbs, and you weren’t sure if the man was simply tired or captured by your conversation.

He watched the ways your eyes shined as you spoke, and how they proceeded to once you were awaiting his reply. You looked so true to your word, so humbly outspoken. Your gentle words had guided a light of maturity onto you, one that Satoru was a complete stranger to in your wake, and it left him unsure of how to go on.

His eyes danced down to the ring still on your finger as you clutched your empty fry bag. You followed his gaze, glancing. Your eyes bounced back up to his face inquisitively.

“What?” you mumbled softly.

Satoru was shaking his head before he could speak, eyes failing to leave the sight of your ring. “I just think I’m starting to understand you,” he said lowly, his voice no louder than a whisper.

When your eyes met again, you felt something within you twitch, struggle, churn under him. You shuffled your feet, busying yourself with tucking your trash back into the empty bag on the floor. “I can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing.”

“Me neither.”

You felt his eyes stay on you, and your patience wore thin. “What?” you demanded again, turning to glare at him as though you were mad.

He smirked, eyes shining. “You’re not so bad like this.”

“Like what?”

“Not snapping at me. Just talking,” he said. “Black looks good on you too.”

Your body released an involuntary reaction, your cheeks pinching and tingling with heat as his honey like voice droned out to compliment you. You panicked, for you had never reacted in such a way to Satoru’s taunting before.

“Uh uh,” you immediately shut him down. “Don’t start with me.”

“Start what?” laughter bubbled into his words.

“You know what,” you growled. “I’m not falling in love with you any time soon, so quit the flirting.”

“Oh, you’re afraid of falling in love with me?” he teased, pushing himself up to sit upright.

You flustered, tossing the fast food bag about angrily. “No, because that’s not happening! This is strictly business, like you said.”

“Right,” he rested his elbow upon the middle compartment, leaning his head to look up at you. “Of course. Business.”

“So stop looking at me.”

“There’s never been any harm in looking, sweetheart.”

You gnawed on the inside of your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of revealing your flustered state. You pushed yourself back into the seat, tightening your posture and holding your arms to yourself, your gown suddenly growing uncomfortable the longer you sat in it. “It’s late.”

“It’s been late, (Y/n). You’re all of a sudden noticing that now?”

“I’m just- I’m tired,” you excused. “And I wanna get out of this dress. Take me home.”

Satoru smiled, taking his own trash and piling it into the back along with whatever else he had thrown back there. He readjusted his seat, lowering his feet from the dash. “Looks like someone’s back,” he snickered. “I guess you can only be easy to talk to for so long.”

“I should be saying the same thing about you!” you fumed.

“Uh huh,” he dismissed you, now having seen a raw side to your frequent antagonization of him. He was hardly affected by your attitude now that he knew how your mind worked a little better. “I’ll take you home, don’t worry. But what do we say for treating you to food and for telling of Sukuna at the party…?”

He leaned his head toward you expectantly, and you were quick to nudge him away stubbornly, your chin propped in your hand as you looked harshly out the window. “I’m not thanking you for picking me up late, moron.”

Satoru grumbled dramatically. “Seriously?! You’re still stuck on that? I thought I had made up for it.”

“You’ll be trying to make up for that for the rest of your life.”

“It’s a little impressive how long you can hold a grudge.”

“I only hold onto them when you’re involved.”

When Satoru dropped you off at home and watched you head into your house safely, the gnawing feeling that something had shifted between the two of you prevailed in both of your minds. The blue eyed man studied you intensely as your figure ascended your steps, your figure moving gracefully snug in the magnificent dress you wore, your ring still twinkling in his sights even from afar.

He thought about shouting something out to you before you stepped into your front door, something that would leave you festering with annoyance, that would leave you thinking about just how much he grinded your gears, but nothing came to him. He had no more words for you, nothing left to say. He was silent, dumbstruck.

Meanwhile, you worked your very hardest not to turn around as you walked away to sneak another glance at the white haired man, for your entire body was trembling with the betrayal of your own heart. You didn’t know what it was about tonight that allowed you to see Satoru in a slightly different light, that gave you insight into how he behaved and what life was like to inspire him to pester you so much.

You thought back to the way he held you at the gala, how he had dragged you along and blabbered to practically the entire space that the two of you were together. You recalled the darkness in his eyes when he cut into Sukuna’s harassment of you, his easy retraction when you called him by his name and pressed yourself before him.

You slapped a hand over your face, mulling over it all, upset with yourself. You lifted your hand to look at your ring once more behind the safety of your front door, lips turning up with confliction.

You didn’t want to think of yourself as someone who could fall for Satoru Gojo. You knew you were better than that, but you were his fiancé now. You were to be married in less than two weeks, and it was dawning on you with such heaviness all of a sudden.

You hated Satoru Gojo. You did, but something about him tonight had admittedly gotten to you. Whether it was the way he looked in his suit or how he had opened up to you about his mother, you weren’t sure, but you were impacted nonetheless, and it was driving you insane.

You only prayed that you were not stupid enough to step further into the dangerous territory of warming up to your previous competitor.

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