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lostfracturess · 17 days

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symptoms and causes | ch. 11

x pairing professor!gojo x med student f!reader (medical au)

x summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

x wc 13.5 k (enjoy your meal lol)

x warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, overdosing, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive and abusive behavior, manipulation, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

x author's note hey loves!! thank you so much for your patience, i know it's been a while. buckle up, because we're taking another trip inside satoru's mind, so yeahhh. it's gonna be wild, oh and we're continuing right were we left off in the last chapter. this chapter is again in satoru's pov!! i've also updated the trigger warnings, so please take a look before reading (might be spoiling tho). and lastly, credit to the fanart in the cover, if you know the artist, pls let me know!! can't wait to hear what you all think & thanks for sticking with me!! ♡

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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They say before you can love someone else, you have to love yourself first.

And there lies the damn problem.

I don't know how.

Never have.

Why am I thinking this now?

I knew this was right.

Right for her.

But then why does my heart feel like it's being ripped out by the fucking roots?

Suguru will take care of her. He always does. That's the only thing that keeps me from screaming, keeps me from chasing after her.

I trust him, damn it, but it shouldn't be him.

It should be me holding her. Me, who knows how she likes to be held when the panic claws its way up. Me, holding her until the world feels less sharp, less cruel.

Me, who knows that she doesn't want to talk about it. Me, who knows to give her space. She needs space. My strong girl needs space first.

I hope he gives her space.

But he wouldn't know any of this. He couldn't comfort her in the ways I instinctively knew how.

Me, who knows how to soothe the invisible wounds, the ones even she denies exist. Me, who knows the soft words she needs to hear after it passes.

It shouldn't be him.

Sorry.

It shouldn't have been him.

Past tense.

It all might be past tense now.

And the thought is more than I could bear.

Shattered.

Was that the word?

Was there even a word for what I felt in that moment?

How could I ever convey this suffocating agony that's tearing me apart with mere words?

Words are meaningless in the end.

Meaningless when they couldn't be spoken to her, couldn't reach her, couldn't make her understand, couldn't heal the wound I'd carved into her heart.

So, yeah, maybe shattered is the right word.

The wrong word.

The sterile air was acid in my lungs. Each ragged breath felt like sandpaper against my throat. I held my breath, a desperate plea for the world to stop spinning, for the clock to rewind, for a chance to undo everything.

But time doesn't care.

It marched on, relentless, while I stayed trapped in this hell, drowning in the mess I made.

My lungs burned. My vision blurred. I waited until she disappeared. The world seemed to tilt sideways, losing all color and shape, leaving only the sharp, agonizing realization that I'd made her walk away.

I didn't want to breathe anymore.

Not in a world where every breath ached without her.

"Dr. Gojo?" A voice, distant, muffled.

Irrelevant.

My gaze flickered to Sukuna. He watched, a predator savoring the kill.

His twisted smile fueled rage within me. But there would be no fighting this. No grand defense. Not when her life was the bargaining chip.

So, I lied.

Each word a nail in the coffin of the connection I craved more than life itself.

Each word a drop of poison forced down my throat. A self-inflicted wound, a desperate mutilation of the only thing that had ever felt real.

Her eyes, those beautiful eyes I loved so fiercely, wide with confusion and horror. The strangled gasp, the way her body went limp in Geto's arms — a haunting image that would forever be etched on my heart.

Muscles screamed, a silent protest against my own pathetic stillness. But I remained frozen.

This was my punishment.

I had to watch her leave, had to sear the pain into my very being, an endless penance for the choices I'd made.

The door clicked shut behind them.

That simple sound, final, absolute.

My lungs filled with air, a betrayal. Oxygen I didn't deserve, didn't want.

My own body, this treacherous thing kept going, kept me alive against my will, kept me tethered to this cruel reality.

The room swam back into focus, the judges' accusing faces nothing but a blurry backdrop. The sounds of their inquest washed over me like meaningless noise.

"Dr. Gojo? Can we continue?"

I nodded.

They pressed on. More questions about the research, her involvement, their accusations of favoritism.

How stupid.

Of course, I favored her.

How could I not?

She is everything.

Oh, sorry. Forgot. Past tense.

She was everything.

Did I regret it?

Did I wish I could go back and treat her with the same damn indifference I afforded everyone else?

Yeah, maybe.

A familiar craving stirred my senses, the desperate need for the numbing escape that would mean failing her even more. My fingers clawed at my forearm, trying to replace the hollowness with physical pain. It wasn't enough.

My responses were rote, mechanical.

Yeah, I favored her.

Yeah, I let her into the OR because of it.

Yeah, and she outshone every damn surgeon twice her age.

No, she didn't know I'd set it up.

No, she never asked for special treatment. She just worked until her eyes were bloodshot, pushing harder than anyone else.

And hell no, she didn't do a single thing wrong.

Except maybe — maybe loving me.

After what felt like an eternity, the judges seemed satisfied, or perhaps just exhausted by my robotic replies.

They painted me the arrogant professor with a weakness for a young student, who abused his power, who played favorites.

Whatever they wanted to believe, fine.

Didn't even have the energy to care anymore.

Let them drag my name through the mud, tarnish the reputation I'd worked so hard to build.

Because the title, the position, the facade of success meant nothing when all I wanted was to rewind time, to undo the damage I'd done to the one person who truly mattered.

I didn't feel anymore.

I was done.

─── ·✧· ───

I burst out of the courtroom.

I needed escape, not just from this sterile prison of a room, but from my own traitorous flesh.

That itch.

It was a wildfire beneath my skin, a thousand insects gnawing their way to the surface. My fingers twitched, claws desperate to tear, to bleed out the poison of this relentless craving.

My legs moved without conscious thought, pushing me towards my office. Somewhere. Anywhere I would be able to breathe again. The guilt was a serrated blade twisting in my gut, each movement slicing me open anew.

Her terror-stricken eyes seared into my very soul.

The walls of my office closed in, the familiar space suddenly too small, too suffocating.

My fist slammed into the desk. Papers scattered to the floor, a meaningless sea of white against the dark wood.

They didn't matter. None of it mattered.

A half-finished coffee mug followed. Porcelain shattered. Dark liquid splashed against the wall.

My blood roared in my ears.

Across the room, my framed diploma. I ripped it off the wall. Glass smashed. Sharp edges bit into my palm, drawing blood. But it wasn't enough. I hurled the frame against the wall.

Blood, hot and slick, coated my hands, the pain nothing.

In the shattered frame, I caught a glimpse of myself — wild eyes in a sweat-slicked face, a man on the verge of collapse.

It was a stranger.

I was across the room before I even registered the decision.

The drawer.

My fingers ripped it open.

There, like a coiled viper, the amber vial gleamed, a venomous promise of oblivion.

Don't —

Don't come at me now.

Did you really think I wouldn't keep a backup?

My hand reached, then hesitated.

The world lurched to a sharp halt as a knock pierced the chaos. My breath hitched, the vial a burning brand in my bloodied hand.

The door creaked open.

And there he was. Sukuna.

He leaned against the doorframe, that sickening smirk plastered on his face. It was like a lit fuse to a powder keg. The rage that had been gnawing at my insides, tearing me apart, finally found its target.

Before a single rational thought could form, I was on him. Fist to jaw, heard the crack, felt it in my knuckles. He stumbled back, the smirk finally wiping off his face.

I pinned him against the door. Forearm across his throat, crushing his windpipe. His eyes widened, but even then, there was that damn flicker of amusement.

"Well, well," he choked out, "this is a nice welcome back."

"Funny to you?"

He coughed, a harsh laugh scraping out of him. "C'mon, Satoru, relax. I did you a favor," he sputtered. "Your precious little student, she's better off now. You know I'm right."

Every muscle in my body tensed.

He was right.

In his twisted way, he was.

And that's what made it all so much worse.

My grip on his throat tightened. But there was nothing, no satisfactio, no release in the violence.

Sukuna saw it, the hesitation. His mouth twisted into a smirk again. "See, you get it. Sweet thing doesn't belong in this mess, does she? It's not for her, Satoru. It's for us."

His words scraped like nails on a chalkboard.

Yes, she was safer now, untouched by the rot that festered within me. Some desperate, logical part of me clung to that. But how could I hold on to that when my heart was screaming for her closeness?

"Or maybe," Sukuna drawled, pushing the knife deeper, "maybe you wanted to see where this goes. Stain her a bit, make her just a little bit more like you."

My breath hitched. For a split second, the floor vanished beneath me.

"Hit a nerve, did I?"

"Shut the hell up!" I couldn't face it, couldn't face the ugly truth as it would tear me apart. "You twist everything. Play with lives just for your own sick amusement."

This was his game.

Sukuna thrived on chaos, on exploiting pain.

He knew my guilt, my fear for her, and wielded it like a scalpel, laying bare the raw nerve of my fragile sanity.

"Perhaps. But ain't I right? You needed to end it, but you lack the guts for it. Waited a bit longer, it'd be a total disaster."

I hesitated, then my grip on him slackened. I stepped back.

"You know I'm right," Sukuna continued. "You know how this would have ended. Suspension. Scandal. She'll be doomed forever for getting involved with her professor for favors. You wouldn't destroy her like that, would you? You're not that cruel."

"I'm not so sure." I ran a hand through my hair. It had taken everything in me to push her away.

But I can't deny that an ugly part of me wanted to keep her close. Drag her down with me.

See her drown.

"Damn, you hit hard," he said, rubbing his jaw. "Go beat up some students again, not me."

"Stop giving me reasons to punch you." Exhausted, I slumped into my desk chair, burying my face in my hands. My head pounded, the infuriating itch worsening with each damn moment. "Was this your plan all along?"

"What?" he scoffed.

I lifted a single eyebrow at him.

"You think that low of me? Honestly, Toru, a bit of credit, please. It was your pathetic indecision that made this entertaining. You basically gift-wrapped this mess and handed it to me."

"Besides," he continued, "let's be honest, you were holding her back. Now maybe she'll have a chance to become someone who might surpass you one day. You wouldn't deny her that, would you? No thanks needed."

He was right, and I hated that more than anything.

Sukuna sank into the chair across from me, a picture of smug satisfaction despite the visible bruise. "Damn, that punch still stings."

I opened my desk drawer and wordlessly tossed him the bottle of opioids. His eyes widened in surprise, before he gave the bottle a knowing shake. "Still on the hydromorphone?"

I didn't answer. The sound alone threatened to shatter what fragile control I had left. The itch was unbearable, each nerve ending screaming for relief.

Sukuna observed me, a predator watching its prey struggle. "Withdrawal never suited you," he said, popping a pill. "You always get so—" he paused, savoring the word, "—tense."

"Yeah, real supportive of you."

"Actually, I'm being incredibly supportive. I'm leaving for a little research trip overseas—four months. Ethics committee can't meet without me, so—" He leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. "Gives you time to get your shit together. Isn't that nice of me?"

"Shut the hell up."

"C'mon, I put in a good word for you too. No suspension for now. You can keep teaching, just no surgeries. Yaga really hates my guts, doesn't he? But hey, at least you're not totally screwed."

"You expect a thank you?"

"Relax, Toru, the show's over," he said. "Trust me, they don't want a scandal, let alone lose their star surgeon. When I get back, a slap on the wrist, maybe a semester's suspension, then you're back to the boring old grind."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "Last I checked, you were the one pushing for a scandal."

He rolled his eyes. "Someone had to do it. Knew you'd drag this out forever, playing the tragic hero. Needed a villain to get things moving." He gave a mocking bow. "At your service, my friend."

"Also," he continued, leaning forward in his chair, "the focus is off you now. The committee's sniffing around those implant engineers. Funny, isn't it?"

Sukuna paused, savoring the moment. "Honestly, never thought there was anything wrong with your surgeries. You wouldn't make that kind of mistake. Tech malfunction more likely."

Of course.

The bastard never doubted the damn research. It had all been a game to him — my career, my sanity, her — just pieces on his chessboard.

It should've made me furious, lash out, pound his face in again — but all I felt was a bone-deep exhaustion, a weariness that seeped into my very soul. I was too tired, too hollowed-out to do anything but swallow the bitter truth.

"That supposed to make me feel better?"

"A little," he said, tossing the opioid bottle back. "This, though? That'll do the trick even better."

I caught it, my fingers clenching around the plastic.

He rose, stretching with a theatrical sigh. "Well, time to go. Remember, you owe me big time. You should take one," he gestured towards the pills, "you look like shit."

My grip on the bottle tightened. I looked up at him. "When all of this is done, I never want to see your damn face again."

He laughed. "We both know that's a lie. You and me? We need each other."

"The only thing you need is some damn therapy."

"Ah, Toru," he dismissed me with a smirk, "you'll come crawling back soon enough. We both know how this works."

With that, he was gone. I was left alone in the echoing silence, the pill bottle a burning weight in my hand. The world seemed to sway around me, my eyelids growing heavy.

The will to fight simply wasn't there anymore.

─── ·✧· ───

Cruel.

Cruel how one little pill can undo everything.

Cruel how one little pill can silence everything.

Cruel how one damn pill can soften the world, make it — bearable, almost.

Unfair.

It's truly unfair.

The screaming under my skin, that relentless itch — it's still there, but it had dulled to a faint hum, pushed back by the familiar numbness.

Finally.

Oh, finally some fucking silence.

I let out a shaky breath. It wasn't peace, not really. I knew that all too well. Borrowed time, each second ticking closer to the inevitable crash, the return of that relentless screaming in my head.

But for now, it'll have to be enough.

I collapsed on the couch, smoke curling lazily before my eyes.

I knew I shouldn't mix opioids with cannabis. That's something they teach you within the first year of university. What I used to teach students within the first year of university.

What a hypocrite I am really.

Another drag — harsh, burning down my throat.

The urge to close my eyes, to sink into oblivion, was almost overwhelming. But sleep wouldn't bring respite. Only nightmares. I knew that only too well.

So, I lay there, staring up at the ceiling.

It really came down to me failing again, huh?

What was it now?

Attempt number five?

Six?

I started losing count.

Maybe this was my fate.

A broken record, stuck on the same damn track.

Deep down, under the chemical haze, guilt gnawed at me. It was a dull ache now, no longer the searing pain of earlier, but a constant, insidious reminder.

She were out there, her life forever marked by my choices, while I was — here. Hiding in a haze of pills and smoke.

God, I hoped Suguru was looking after her. Making sure she ate, making sure she was safe — that she didn't hate me too much.

I brought the joint to my lips again, the smoke curling up towards the ceiling. It left an acrid taste in my mouth.

I watched my hand for a second.

Bloodied earlier, the wounds had scabbed over, the blood dried. It was perfectly still now, the trembling smoothed out by the chemicals in my blood.

I clenched it into a fist, then unclenched, watching the movement like it belonged to someone else.

Traitor.

This body was a traitor — betrayed myself, betrayed her, betrayed everything I held dear.

Weak.

Broken.

A pathetic mess.

Was that it?

Living as a slave to these chemicals to patch up my crumbling sanity one day at a time?

Chained to pills, each dawn a ticking clock until the next dose, until I could silence the screaming for a few damn hours?

My eyes locked onto the half-empty vial on the table.

Took too many, didn't I?

I knew that, even through the haze. But a cold certainty twisted in my gut. There'd be more. Always more. Until there was nothing left.

Before I could think, I threw another down my throat. Bad idea, probably, after a few clean days.

Suddenly, the haze warped, twisting into nausea. Bile rose in my throat.

I lurched to my feet, the world tilting precariously with each step. Surfaces rippled, the bathroom light stabbing into my skull.

I barely made it. My stomach heaved. Each retch wracked my body, leaving me gasping, weak.

Too many.

Way too many.

How the hell did I forget? Forget my body's limits? Somehow, I felt like some reckless student again, stumbling through experiments, blind to the consequences.

Stupid. So damn stupid.

Darkness swam at the edges of my vision. Another wave of nausea, and I was back, hunched over the toilet.

I hauled myself up, hands shaking, clinging to the sink. In the mirror, a stranger stared back. Eyes bloodshot, a sheen of sweat coating his skin.

This wasn't me anymore.

I splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away the acid burn. Didn't help. Drops of water ran down my face, felt like they were melting the damn skin off.

My knees buckled. I slid down the wall, my head heavy against the tile wall.

The bathroom light, needles in my brain moments ago, seemed impossibly distant now. Each breath was a ragged gasp, each pulse a dull throb in my temples.

I waited for it to pass, the nausea, the haze. But as minutes crawled by, a new, searing pain gnawed at me.

My fingers trembled against my abdomen, pressing into the tender spot. Liver, of course.

Wrecked it, just like the rest of me. I'd known the risks, had ignored the warnings, and now my body was demanding payment.

How pathetic.

Darkness gnawed at the edges of my vision, pushing back against the stubborn spots of light. My head felt heavy, detached from my body. Arms and legs useless.

Each breath a battle I wasn't sure I'd win.

Time warped. Stretching, then snapping, leaving me floating in nausea and pain. Then I heard something — muffled, distant. Footsteps, getting closer.

My eyes struggled to make sense of the shifting shadows.

Then, a voice. Soft, achingly familiar. I couldn't make out the words, but the warmth of it—

I knew that voice — would always recognize it.

Cold water hit my skin. Hands, gentle, but firm, on my face. I strained to focus, to see her, to soak in the sight I needed, yet feared more than anything.

Oh, how desperately I needed to see her. Needed her to be real.

But my eyes betrayed me.

She must be so beautiful. She always was.

Then, a touch on my outstretched leg, a flash of metal — was that a scalpel?

Agony ripped through me, shattering the haze. I jerked back, my scream ragged against the tiles. My head slammed back with sickening force.

Before I knew it, a needle pierced my skin.

The room spun as whatever she'd injected battled the comfortable blur of the pills. Nausea churned in my stomach, the numbness receding with terrifying speed.

Groaning, I shifted on the floor.

My vision sharpened, my senses returning with brutal clarity.

The first thing I noticed was the metallic glint of the discarded syringe beside my leg.

Then the cut, a ragged gash through the fabric of my dress pants where she'd stabbed the needle in — the unnecessarily deep and brutal cut — but in the chaos, I let it slide. Didn't even register the pain as I watched the blood drain from the cut.

I reached for the syringe and read the label.

Adrenaline.

Smart girl.

But as I turned it over, a frown creased my brow. Two fucking milliliters? Was she trying to give me a damn heart attack?

I lifted my head, the question burning on my tongue. But the words died unspoken as my gaze locked on hers.

She stood there, just a few feet away, her breath ragged, her eyes — those pretty eyes.

Terror.

There was raw, unadulterated terror etched in her eyes. But I was right. She looked as beautiful as ever. Even with those terror-stricken eyes she was breathtaking.

She stumbled back, slumping against the wall opposite of me with a choked gasp, pulling her knees up. I didn't move, couldn't move, my gaze locked with hers.

The terror faded slowly, replaced by a weariness that was far worse.

For a fleeting moment, I saw a flicker of that familiar defiance, the spark I both loved and feared. But even that felt strangely muted now, as if even the energy to fight had been drained out of her.

She simply watched me. In silence, in that devastating silence.

How I hated her silence.

Because her silence was far worse than anything she could have screamed, any insult she could have hurled my way. Her stillness, her silence, was the most terrifying weapon she'd ever wielded against me.

And for the first time in a very long time, I was truly afraid.

Time stretched, then I choked out, "You're angry."

Her answer was blunt, devoid of emotion. "Oh really? What makes you think that?"

I glanced down. Blood still seeped from the gash in my leg. With a trembling hand, I fumbled for a towel and pressed it against the wound. "Your cut is kinda deep. Was that on purpose?"

She didn't say anything.

It probably was on purpose.

My gaze fell on the syringe. "Where'd you get that?"

"What happened to your hand?"

"I asked first."

"Don't try to play games now, Satoru. You're walking on thin fucking ice," she snapped.

"Shattered some glass," I said after a pause ", and punched Sukuna."

"Stole it from the hospital."

"What?"

"You think I'd date an addict and not have adrenaline on hand?"

My lips twitched into a weary smile. Oh my beautiful, brilliant girl, always prepared.

"But you know, two milliliters is a bit much." I moved my leg slightly to check if she had cut any tendons, which would complicate the healing a bit. "Or are you trying to kill me?"

Her gaze pierced me, colder than any scalpel. "Looks like you're doing a fine job of that yourself."

My smile faded.

Silence.

Oh, that cruel silence again.

She didn't say anything. Maybe I should be thankful for that, because if she said anything now, I'd probably crumble completely — if I haven't already.

Ironic, wasn't it?

How much power this woman had over me.

Yet it was me who destroyed her.

She dropped her head, ran a shaking hand through her hair, then looked at me again. "How much did you take?"

Huh?

Why would she ask that?

Didn't she see that it's over?

That I'm too far gone?

It was unbearable.

It was unbearable, how she could still look at me and see someone worth saving. It was unbearable, knowing she believed in me even when I didn't.

Almost pissed me off, how stubbornly she clung to that stupid hope. Because seeing that hope in her eyes — it made me hate myself even more.

I wouldn't change, couldn't. Not for her, not for anyone.

"Doesn't matter. It's over."

"Satoru, please," she choked out, pain raw in her voice, the pain I caused, "cut the crap and tell me. Now."

"It doesn't matter," I repeated, my voice cold. I couldn't bear the flicker of hope, couldn't bear to fail her yet again.

Then, the first tear rolled down her cheek and my heart shattered, the fragments piercing me from within.

I'd never wanted to be the reason those beautiful eyes filled with pain, the reason her sweet lips trembled. Every fiber of my being wanted to pull her close, erase the hurt I'd caused.

I would have given anything, sacrificed anything, if only I could make it stop.

But I couldn't.

Because I was the problem. I was the poison.

She buried her face in her hands. "I'm tired, Satoru."

"I know."

"I'm so fucking tired," she whispered through tears.

"I know, love."

My eyes burned as I watched her fragile body shudder. Each sob of her driving a stake deeper into my already bleeding heart. I bit my lip until I tasted blood.

I hated myself, hated myself, hated myself, hated myself, hated myself because — because I was the reason for all of this.

She'd never wanted this, never wanted to fall in love with me to begin with, but I dragged her into it anyway.

Because I was selfish.

Knew how it would end.

And now, I could only watch — only watch in this unbearable silence as the woman I loved wept over the man I hated.

"It's for the best, believe me—"

"No," she cut me off. "You're sacrificing me for this—this reputation of mine you think matters. It doesn't. I don't want any of it without you. I don't want a future where you're not in it."

She looked up then, eyes red and filled with unshed tears. "Because I love you, Satoru."

What?

The words turned my blood to ice.

After everything — the lies, the ways I'd hurt her, the desperate attempts to push her away — there it was, the confession I'd craved and feared in equal measure.

My heart was being ripped apart and stitched back together again in that very moment — vulnerable and yet so unbearably full.

She loved me, she said it.

She loves me.

And I love her.

God, how I loved her. More than I thought possible.

I've never once loved in my entire life.

Not until her.

Not until she changed me completely.

What is that, anyway? Love?

How can I possible describe the type of feeling I feel when I'm with her? How can I ever convey the words when they are not even clear to me?

How cruel it is. How utterly cruel the type of feeling is, that she makes me feel.

Because how could I ever live without it.

Not when she showed me how to breathe.

How to live.

How could I ever go back to what I was before her — was there even something before her?

Not when she showed me how to breathe.

With her.

For her.

Because she is the air that fills my lungs.

The pulse that keeps me alive.

And nothing can ever change that. So how could I ever go back to what I was before?

Oh, how she tortures me, tortures me with feelings I rather not feel, tortures me with her love that I deserve so little.

Nothing.

I deserve nothing and yet she gives me everything.

Why can't I give it back? What chains me, binds this rotten heart? Why does it fail me so cruelly to love her the way she deserves?

Because she does.

She deserves everything.

She is everything.

Yet there is only my own failure in loving her. I'm failing her again and again. I hurt her again and again. I hate myself, hate myself for the pain I cause her.

Still—

How can I let her go, when she's the only good thing in my life?

It is selfish, selfish to say the least, to want to keep her close when all I do is fail her.

Her tears were molten iron searing my insides. But I clench my jaw, refusing to let them break me. If she saw weakness, she might hesitate. Might stay and continue to be broken by me.

Every fiber of my being wanted nothing more than to reach out, to comfort her, to tell her it would all be okay.

More lies for a heart that deserved nothing but the truth. So I swallowed down the love threatening to spill from my lips.

I would give her anything, my life, the last shreds of my sanity — except the one thing she asked for, the only thing she ever ask for.

Because loving her, truly loving her, meant letting her go. Even if it destroys me.

"I spare you," I rasped.

"No." She slowly shook her head. "You're killing me. Can't you see?" There was a cold edge in her voice now. "You're killing me."

"I can't change. Love isn't enough. I can't stop."

"You're the only one who thinks that." Her reply held a flicker of her old, beautiful defiance, a defiance I loved so dearly. "I'd follow you anywhere, Satoru. Even if you can't get clean, then so be it. I don't care. I won't leave you."

The sincerity in her voice was a blow, a beautiful, terrible blow. Complete, unwavering acceptance of who I was, in all my brokenness.

And in that moment, I finally realized.

It wasn't about saving her. It was about saving myself from the terrifying vulnerability her love demanded. From the weakness that threatened to drown me if I let her in.

Perhaps I'm just a coward after all.

My heart was too damn small, too messed up. Of course I had to push her out, deny her the love she offered so freely — because it terrified me.

Her love terrified me.

"I can't do this to you," I choked out, the words scraping my throat raw. "You deserve—" I swallowed, the words catching in my throat. "You deserve better."

"Better?" She leaned forward slightly. "You are my better."

Oh, love, that's not true.

You are my better. I'm your worst.

I wanted to say that, should've said that.

But I remained silent, unable to say anything.

"Say something, Satoru."

I couldn't, simply couldn't. Because mere words were too hollow, too insignificant against the depth of her pain.

"Say something, damn it!"

"It will get easier someday," I chocked out. Each word felt like a stone I was forcing down my own throat. Each word empty — we both knew it.

"Is that what you hope for?"

"I have to."

She closed her mouth. Her silence more devastating than any scream. She didn't explode, as I half-expected. Instead, she straightened, her movements slow, weary.

I watched her, unable to move, unable to look away, as a horrifying realization bloomed across her face. It wasn't anger, wasn't sadness — it was a terrible understanding.

She knew. She always knew.

Perhaps that's what I hated about her the most.

"That's it?" she asked.

"That's it."

She watched me. Not in anger, but with chilling detachment. Her eyes, usually so filled with warmth, were now as distant as those of a stranger.

Still, I burned the image into my soul, knowing it might be the last time.

Then, without another word, she turned. And walked away.

When she finally disappeared from sight, a wave of crushing despair washed over me. It wasn't just the loneliness. It was the terrifying certainty that there was no going back from this.

I had destroyed the best thing in my life — a sacrifice she didn't even ask for.

But then again, my sacrifice is really only an illusion after all, masking a desperate, terrified selfishness.

Because I'm selfish.

I do love her. Gods, how I love her.

But my fear was stronger.

And I was too damn weak to fight it.

─── ·✧· ───

Four weeks.

Was it four weeks?

I can't remember.

Time — it didn't tick or flow anymore.

It was a shapeless thing. Punctuated only by the empty thump of my heart in this wrecked chest.

Those first days — or weeks, who knows? — they melted together in a haze. After she left, I was — raw. One giant exposed nerve.

Each damn breath without the pills felt like scraping sandpaper across it, a reminder of what I'd lost — no, what I'd destroyed.

So I was barely sober.

My body didn't even protest. At first, it was almost — nice? The rush, the way it wiped out not just the pain but any thought at all.

But the crash was always brutal. Mornings, if you could even call it that, I'd wake up shaking, sick to my stomach, and terrified of — what was I even terrified of? Somehow of everything and nothing at all. But I knew the fix for that.

It was a sick, relentless cycle.

The phone rang, vibrated with messages. Suguru mostly. His messages growing more urgent with each unanswered text. Liver issues. Treatment. Something about irreversible damage.

It was all white noise compared to the screaming in my head.

Her name, though, cut through the haze.

There were nights — or was it days? — when a desperate, clawing need to hear her voice, to see her face, would rise up in me. I'd reach for the phone, fingers hovering above her name. Then the fear would crush that impulse.

I knew that reaching out to her would be the final act of cruelty.

So I stumbled on, each day collapsing into the next.

Until the next semester started and I remembered I had an actual job.

─── ·✧· ───

I stood in the corridor outside the auditorium.

My fingers fumbled with the familiar pill bottle. Just enough to numb the edge, get me through the lecture. With a bitter swallow, I tilted the pill into my palm, chasing it down dry.

Four weeks. Four weeks of barely holding it together, four weeks since I almost OD'd, four weeks since she left, and the weight of it all threatened to crush me at any moment.

Yet, muscle memory took over.

I limped slightly as I walked into the auditorium. My leg still hurt after she basically cut my muscle in half.

She definitely did that on purpose. She was too smart not to not know what she was doing.

The usual chatter died down when I walked in. Old routine. Time for the performance. Pretend I'm the professor, pretend like this whole thing isn't ripping me apart, piece by piece. It should have been comforting.

Once, perhaps, it was.

Wordlessly, I grabbed a marker, scrawled my name on the board. Like they didn't already know who I was, right?

Everyone on campus knows, especially after this summer's mess.

With a sigh, I turned towards the class.

And there she was.

My breath hitched, the marker clattering to the floor. My lips parted, but no words came.

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Second-year lecture.

How the hell could I forget that?

She was here, after everything, right in front of me. The pain of the past weeks, that suffocating emptiness — it all melted away, replaced by a pounding headache in that one instant.

My eyes clung to her, unable to look away, drinking in the sight of her. That stubborn tilt of her head, the pain in those beautiful eyes — God, how I'd missed her.

Yet with every beat of my yearning heart came a fresh wave of guilt. I longed to reach out, to apologize, to tell her how much I'd missed her.

But I knew it was wrong.

Then, it hit me. Every eye in the room was on her, following my gaze like a spotlight burning into her. Damn it.

Still, she didn't flinch.

Endured it like she has always endured everything.

Clearing my throat, I managed to speak as I adverted my gaze. "So, uh, let's start the lecture."

My voice echoed in the now tense auditorium, words tumbling out in a forced attempt at normalcy. The lecture blurred. My own words were just noise in my head. I pushed through the lecture. Don't even remember what I lectured about.

It was routine, should have been easy, but — not with her there. Never with her.

Every damn minute, my eyes flicked towards her, drawn like a magnet. I couldn't help it. Because all I could see was her. But she avoided my gaze.

Should've expected that.

Shouldn't make me angry, right?

Still did.

Finally, thank god, the bell rang.

I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding.

I remained behind my desk and gathered my notes. Students surged towards the exit, a faceless blur of motion. My traitorous gaze remained locked on her as the auditorium slowly emptied.

She and her friends passed by me. Before I could even think, the words tumbled out, "Wait, not—not you, first-year."

Silence.

Her friend's chatter halted abruptly. I hadn't meant to say it, hadn't thought before the desperate need to speak to her had short-circuited my brain.

Now, it was done.

Her eyes, those beautiful eyes, met mine. For a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Her friends exchanged glances. I could feel Zenin glaring daggers at me, didn't even need to look. She'd always been fiercely protective.

"I'll catch up later," she said then to her friends, a strained smile plastered on her face.

They left, leaving us alone in the vast, suddenly suffocating auditorium.

Silence again.

My heart hammered against my ribs, so loud I feared she could hear it.

Finally, she spoke. "You know I'm not a first-year anymore."

I rounded the desk, the wood rough against my fingertips. "Yeah, right. Sorry." Leaning against it, I crossed my arms.

"Didn't you get suspended?"

"They postponed it."

She watched me for a moment, those beautiful eyes drilling into me. Her eyes held a coldness I've never seen before. For a sickening moment, I thought I might throw up.

"How are you?"

"Don't," she snapped. "Don't ask me that. Don't you dare pretend to care after—"

She stopped herself, the silence louder than any accusation. After everything you did. After you pushed me away. After you nearly killed yourself.

She didn't need to voice it.

My hands clenched into fists against the edge of my desk, nails digging into my palms in a futile attempt to ground myself. Needed to maintain this thin illusion of control.

I do care. Dammit, I care more than you'll ever know.

I wanted to scream it, to tear open my chest and show her the bleeding wound she'd left behind. But the words stuck in my throat.

Pointless now, anyway.

Knuckles turned white, nails digging deeper.

She stepped closer. Her hand darted into her bag, then shot out, palm open. Keys glinted in the harsh light — the keys to my apartment.

I watched them for a second. Should've expected that. Shouldn't hurt me. Still did.

"You don't have to return them. I want you to keep them."

"Why? I won't need them anymore, will I? Or are you planning on overdosing again?"

Each word was acid on an open wound.

I deserved this, the anger, the contempt, it was all on me. But why the hell did it make me so fucking angry?

"Have you ever thought about how I felt when I found you?" she snapped, her voice rising. "How terrified I was when you wouldn't respond? When you couldn't even recognize me? When I thought you'd die on me?" She took a shaky breath. "Fuck Satoru, I held your face in my hands while you were barely breathing!"

I tried to speak, but she cut me off. "Don't. You. Dare."

"Four weeks," she went on, her voice sharp, laced with a fury that cut to the bone. "Four weeks of silence. Ever think I might be drowning, haunted by what I saw? Or were you too busy numbing yourself with pills? Hell, I didn't even know if you'd overdosed for good this time!"

Her words hit me cold, but they weren't the storm tearing me apart. It was the image of her, terrified, holding my barely-alive body, that ripped my insides out.

Those eyes — her eyes filled with a terror that was all because of me. The guilt choked me. Seeing my near-death through her haunted eyes is twisted a knife in my gut.

It was the look of someone who'd had a piece of her soul ripped out.

It was the look of someone who loved me.

"But then again, you never cared about me, did you?" she added, the raw hurt bleeding beneath the anger.

My stomach twisted. "Don't you dare say that," I rasped, the words ripping from my throat. "I care so much it damn near killed me. You were the only thing keeping me alive, the only reason I fought at all! Don't you dare say I don't—" I choked, the pain unbearable.

The room seemed to tilt, my anger threatening to consume me.

I took a step towards her, closing the distance in one move. We were so close, I could smell her damn shampoo. "Every damn thing I did, every stupid decision—it was all because I care about you too much."

Her eyes widened. But only for a second. Then, that cold defiance was back, and it cut deep.

"You're really pathetic, you know that?" she spat. "You talk about caring, but in the end you threw everything away. Because you are too terrified to let yourself love me. Because apparently your own damn peace is worth more than me."

Her words were knives, finding their mark with cruel efficiency.

"Shut up," I whispered. "You know nothing."

"Oh really?" She glared at me, "then let me paint the picture for you—the minute things got difficult, the second you had to face actual consequences for your actions, you used it as an excuse to back away. Shut yourself down."

She moved closer still. "Convenient, wasn't it? Pushing me away, destroying us—it absolved you from having to confront anything real."

Her accusations hit uncomfortably close to home.

And I didn't want to hear it from her lips.

Not from hers.

"Shut up," I growled.

"Don't you dare tell me to shut up," she snapped back, her voice rising. "You don't get to play the victim here. You did this. You ruined everything."

Fury ignited, not at her, but at myself.

Blindly, I reached out, my fingers gripping her jaw so tight it bordered on violence. I forced her to look at me, my eyes burning into hers. "Shut up, or I swear to god, I'll make you."

Her chin lifted, eyes narrowing. "I dare you."

The words set me on fire. Every rational thought, every vestige of self-preservation was devoured by a sudden, desperate need. My gaze fell to her lips, slightly parted, a vulnerable target I craved to claim.

Without even thinking, my hand went to her waist, fingers digging in as I pulled her impossibly close. My other hand tangled in her hair, forcing her head back. Our eyes locked, some kind of messed-up challenge.

I could feel her rapid breaths on my skin, smell that damn perfume of hers that I'd always loved, but now was driving me to the edge of control. Her heart pounding against mine.

Everything in me screamed to close the distance, claim those lips that had haunted me, haunted me for weeks.

I wanted to claim her, to silence her, to lose myself in her, but my last shred of sanity held me back.

Because pushing her further into my nightmare was the ultimate act of cruelty.

"Uncomfortable, isn't it? Getting confronted with the ugly truth?" she whispered against my lips.

My grip on her tightened. She really didn't know when to stop, or maybe she simply wanted to watch me burn. Perhaps both.

"Don't push me."

"Why? Scared of what you'll find if you let yourself be honest for once?" Her head tilted. Her gaze was fire, and I was already ash. "You run, Satoru. From everything, but most of all, from yourself."

"And that," she leaned closer, almost brushing my lips, "is what makes you the most pathetic person I know."

Oh, she could be so viciously cruel when she wanted to. So disgustingly cruel. It was one of the things I'd fallen hopelessly in love with. Even now, as it tore me apart, I still loved it.

But I also wanted nothing more than to fuck that attitude out of her right then and there.

"You're right. You're always right. Maybe that's what's terrifies me about you so much."

"You're not terrified of me," she whispered. "You're terrified of yourself."

The air between us crackled. Every rational thought in my brain begged me to stop. Still, I couldn't resist. I inched closer, helpless against the force that binds and burns us both.

My hands tightened their hold as I took a sharp inhale. Her eyes fluttered shut, lashes trembling.

Our lips hovered, almost touching, two aching souls suspended in that impossible space. So much unspoken words, so much hurt, and the destructive pull between us that had always tethered us together.

Then, the auditorium door creaked open.

Her head snapped towards the sound. But I couldn't look away, wouldn't miss a second of her. Because this, right here, was all I had left.

Had to be Suguru anyway — anyone else would be screaming their heads off by now.

After a pause, she turned back at me. "You know, I'm still waiting."

"For what, love?"

"For it to get easier."

I looked at her, the woman I loved, and guilt clawed at my insides. That hurt, that anger on her face — I deserved it all. Because it was the consequence of the pain I'd caused.

"You said it would get easier," she added.

It was a lie. Nothing about this was easy. Nothing ever would be again. Suddenly, the room felt too small, the air thick and unbreathable.

"I don't know if it ever will."

Perhaps I was only meant to love her in silence.

In distance.

Because at least then I couldn't hurt her anymore.

Suguru cleared his throat. He stepped into the room, breaking the moment.

Reluctantly, I let go of her. She stepped back, eyes holding mine for a second, something flickering there that I didn't dare try to read. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away.

I watched her go.

Suguru approached me, stopping close by. He didn't say anything.

I leaned against the desk, running a hand through my hair. The adrenaline from that almost-kiss crashed, leaving behind a hollow ache.

The sound of the door slamming behind her echoed in the empty auditorium, way too loud.

Suguru's hand landed on my shoulder.

"You really have a thing for bad timing," I muttered.

"Bad timing," he echoed, "or good timing to stop you from doing something stupid?"

I didn't answer. The memory of her, so close, choked every thought out of my mind.

"You know it was the right thing to do. With everything going on, letting her go was the right decision."

"I know," I said, pushing off the desk and rounding it to gather my things. I couldn't meet his gaze. "I'm trying to remember that."

Suguru then started placing pill bottles on the desk with a serious expression. The first clink of plastic on wood cut through the silence.

"Prednisone for the liver inflammation." Another bottle. "Lactulose for the hepatic encephalopathy." Then another. "Vitamin B and K for the nutritional deficiencies."

"But you know the first step would be to—" he paused for a second then placed another two bottles in from of me. "Methadone, to manage the withdrawal and craving. And Naltrexone, to block the euphoric effects of your opioids."

Hesitantly, another bottle appeared. "Clonidine, in case you feel like you're dying."

"Suguru—" I began, but he cut me off.

"Satoru, you have to get clean. The pills won't do a damn thing if you keep wrecking your liver."

"Yeah, it's a little late for that, don't you think? It's the only thing keeping me sane right now."

He sighed. "You're the absolute worst patient ever."

"Aw, come on, I thought you liked a bit of challenge. You're the best doctor, you'll figure something out." I rummaged through my bag, pulling out a folder.

"Even the best doctor on earth can't help if you don't—"

I shoved the folder across the desk, cutting him off. "What's this?"

"It's a patient. An anyeurism. I'm still not allowed to do surgery, not until this thing with the ethics committee is over."

Suguru opened the folder, flipping through the pages. "You want me to do it? Is there something special about this patient?"

"I want you to take her with you," I said quietly. "She likes aneurysm clippings."

Suguru looked up, that familiar crease between his brows. "She'll figure it out. Sooner or later. Latest when you're in the hospital waiting for a liver transplant, not lecturing anymore."

Silence stretched. My eyes fell on the pill bottles lined up on the desk.

I sighed, then gathered them and crammed them into my bag. "Let's go. I need fresh fair," I said as I brushed past him, putting the withdrawal meds back into his hands.

Without another word, I left the auditorium.

─── ·✧· ───

My eyes snapped open.

I sat upright, a strangled gasp tearing from my throat. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat threatening to burst right out of my chest.

For a disorienting second, the world was a blur. Sweat drenched my skin. My lungs screamed for air.

Damn nightmares.

Another night of that shit.

I clutched at my chest, trying to quell the frantic pounding. Cold sweat made my shirt cling to my skin. The room spun. My pulse thundered in my ears.

I fumbled for the lamp, the sudden brightness stinging my eyes. But it didn't chase away the image seared into my brain. Her face, cruel, beautiful, cruelly beautiful, twisted in absolute terror. My stomach twisted.

My fault.

Always my fault.

I couldn't breathe right.

Sleep was a lost cause now. First decent rest in a week, and my brain decided to torment me again. Exhaustion was its own kind of hell, but it was nothing compared to this. That, more than anything, was the real torture.

I slumped forward, scrubbing a hand over my face.

I'd hurt her.

I'd hurt her, the one person who meant something.

Every day, it felt more like I'd made the biggest mistake of my life. Letting her go, pushing her away, I—

I hated myself.

Hated the way I ruined everything.

Hated the way I ruined every chance at something good.

It was like a damn curse.

Nothing good ever lasted for me. I should've known that by now.

Damn it, I knew it was wrong. But how the hell could it be wrong when it'd felt so damn right? When she was the only thing, the only person, that cut through the crap, made this whole mess seem like it might have some sort of meaning?

How could that possibly be wrong?

Guilt ate at my insides. Had I been a damn coward? Too scared to fight for something that made me feel, really feel?

Perhaps.

Easier to push her away, sabotage the whole damn thing, than risk actually letting her in. Letting anyone in. Losing control. But it didn't matter now, did it?

It was over.

I needed out. Out of my head, out of this apartment, out of my own damn skin.

The silence was unbearable.

I pushed off the bed, muscles screaming in protest. I slipped into running clothes, the routine automatic. As I laced up my shoes, a sharp sting shot through my leg from the still-healing cut on my leg.

That bitch.

The more I thought about it, the more sure I was she'd done it on purpose.

Good thing I was addicted to painkillers, huh?

I drowned a pill — no two, for good measure — before stepping outside into the pre-dawn chill.

Cold autumn air bit at my skin. Each step echoed on the empty street. The pills kicked in, dulling the sharp pain in my leg. Good. Long as the cut didn't split open, I didn't damn care.

I pushed myself, needing the burn in my muscles, the ache in my lungs, to drown out the constant echo of her voice, her name, in my head.

The world blurred. Streetlights, shadows, it all melded together. The only reality was the ache in my body, the cold air forcing its way into my lungs. My mind, for once, was mercifully blank.

No nightmares, no guilt, no memories of her haunted eyes — just the simple focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

I didn't set a goal, didn't choose a destination.

Just moving, pushing, escaping.

Sweat dripped, but I barely registered. With each mile, the crushing weight eased. Not gone, hell, not even close to forgotten, but — manageable.

I ran until the city was a smear of lights, until my legs burned and my lungs screamed.

Finally, gasping for breath, legs threatening to give out, I stumbled to a halt. The neon lights of a Seven Eleven cut through the pre-dawn darkness. My throat was sandpaper. I pushed through the door.

Inside, the harsh lights stung my eyes. I grabbed a water, my body on autopilot as I shuffled toward the register. The bored-looking teenager behind the counter gave me a sidelong look as I fumbled for my wallet.

"Rough night?"

"Something like that." I glanced down at my leg, the still-healing cut a visible red line. Wincing, I shifted my weight, favoring the uninjured side.

I pulled out my card to pay, but then a flash of color caught my eye. Beside the cashier's register, stacked in a gaudy pyramid, was a display of energy drinks. I starred at them for a second, the name oddly familiar.

I knew why the name was so familiar.

I reached for a can and placed it on the counter. "And this."

Outside, I downed the water in a matter of seconds. Then, I cracked open the energy drink. The first sip hit my tongue. Surprisingly, it didn't taste half-bad without a shot of stale coffee to ruin it.

But the taste wasn't the problem, wasn't it?

Memories flooded back. Her, hunched over a massive anatomy textbook in the dim library, those beautiful eyes ringed with exhaustion. Beside her, half-empty, a mug of coffee — spiked with the sickeningly sweet energy drink I currently held.

Just the thought of that awful mixture made my stomach turn.

Still, a smile tugged at my lips.

Dammit, I didn't want to think about her. But to be fair, thinking, not thinking — it was all the same. The dull, constant ache of her absence throbbed beneath it all.

I chugged the rest of the energy drink, crushing the can in my hand.

Ah, fuck it.

Before my sanity could interfere, my legs were in motion.

I knew this was wrong. Knew every step took me closer to more pain. Knew all along this was stupid, reckless — inevitable.

I couldn't stop.

The pull towards her was too damn strong. I needed to see her, to confirm her existence, to know she was real, to fix — what? What the hell could I fix? What the hell did I even think I was doing?

Finally, gasping for breath, I stumbled to a halt outside her apartment building.

A glance at my watch confirmed the hour — well past 3 am. Insane. I hadn't expected her to be awake. Just needed the pathetic reassurance of her presence. But as I looked up, my breath hitched.

In a second-floor window, a flicker of warm light spilled into the darkness. And there, etched against that warmth — her silhouette. Unmistakable.

A heavy exhale escaped my lips.

She was there.

Here.

On this same cursed world with me.

My heart pounded against my ribs. I knew, I had no right to be here. But god, I needed this, needed to see her.

She sat on the windowsill, book in hand. My future wife. Even in the dead of night, she was studying. How I loved her.

My gaze traced the familiar curve of her shoulders, the way the soft lamplight painted her skin with warmth, highlighting the strands of hair escaping her messy bun.

In that stolen moment, I could almost convince myself that things were different, that my actions hadn't irrevocably shattered something precious.

But then, she moved. Rising from her seat, she stretched, drawing the fabric of her shirt upwards. Before my mind could catch up, she was at the window, pushing it open. I froze.

She was staring down — right at me.

Shit.

I held my breath. For what felt like an eternity, we simply stared at each other. A muscle in her jaw twitched. Then her gaze dropped, breaking eye contact.

"You're bleeding."

I glanced down. The edge of my shorts was soaked through, a fresh stain of crimson spreading. Damn it. The cut had reopened.

"Yeah," I said, looking back up at her, "I'm a mess."

I braced myself for whatever was coming. The anger, the disgust, the righteous fury — it would all be justified. I deserved it. But she simply watched me. Her gaze was steady, devoid of emotion.

"You know where the entrance is," she said finally, then leaned back into the soft glow of her room and closed the window shut.

Before my brain could catch up with how wrong this was, I walked toward the apartment building.

─── ·✧· ───

I sat on the edge of her bed, she on a chair in front of me, her hands already on my leg as she pushed the fabric of my shorts up. "How could you not notice that?"

I opened my mouth, but she cut me off, "Wait, forget it."

Yeah. Now she remembered.

With practiced efficiency, she began cleaning the wound. Her touch was surprisingly gentle, considering how pissed she must be.

The silence was heavy, broken only by the rustle of bandages and my occasional sharp intake of breath when the antiseptic hit a raw spot.

My eyes wandered. Her space, even small and half-finished, felt warm, lived in. Smelled like her. Books spilling everywhere, papers scattered on a desk, a yoga mat forgotten in the corner — the organized chaos was so perfectly her.

Then my gaze landed on the half-unpacked boxes stacked against the wall. She really still didn't fully move in. Occupied with my mess, huh?

Guilt flooded me. I didn't deserve this, didn't deserve her gentle hands on me, not after everything.

Yet, a selfish part of me wanted nothing more than to stay exactly like this, wanted nothing more than to keep her hands on me.

With a sigh, I sank back against her pillows. Exhaustion seeped into my bones. Pain returned as the effects of the pills wore off.

Her fingers brushed the reopened cut. I winced, throwing an arm over my eyes. The relentless pounding in my head threatened to split me open, spilling all the ugly thoughts onto her pristine sheets.

"You've had nightmares again, haven't you?"

Huh?

I lifted my head a fraction, struggling to meet her eyes. She glanced up briefly, her eyes guarded, then focused back on my leg.

"Yeah, something like that." My head thumped back onto the pillow. "Hard to sleep when your head won't shut up."

"What dose?"

"You really don't want to know."

"I asked because I do," she countered. The sharp tug as she tightened the bandage around my leg was enough to make me speak.

"Ten milligrams," I admitted, wincing. "The usual."

She scoffed, then another, even sharper, tug had me gritting my teeth. "Ngh—fuck," I moaned.

I really needed a pill now.

She stood, gathering the first-aid supplies. "Heals slowly, doesn't it?"

I knew it.

I popped myself up on one elbow, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Don't give me that look. You know damn well you deserved it."

I let out a dry laugh. "You really are a bitch sometimes." I dropped back onto the bed, my hand reaching for my throbbing head.

I needed two pills now.

"You've got some damn nerve. You show up here in the middle of the night, injured, high—"

"I'm not high—"

"Save it," she spat. "You know what your fucking problem is? You can't stand being alone. Alone with your thoughts, with yourself. So you run. You run to pills, to whatever distraction you can find, anything to fill the void."

Yeah, how the hell am I supposed to want to be alone after feeling what it's like to be with you, stupid.

"You're too damn scared to face your fears," she continued, her voice laced with a bitter edge, "and when someone threatens your artificial peace, someone who might actually force you to look in the damn mirror, you panic. You sabotage it, push them away before it all gets too real, too close."

She stepped closer. "Because it's easier, isn't it? Safer to stick with the misery you know than risk having to face that void."

Every word stung, but I couldn't deny it, couldn't lie anymore.

"You're right. And I'm sorry—"

"Don't." She rose a hand at me. "Don't pretend you care, Satoru. You've made it clear how little I matter."

How little you matter?

Oh, love, you couldn't be more wrong.

A harsh laugh escaped me.

"You find this funny?"

"No, love," I said, pushing myself up. My leg throbbed in protest, but I ignored it. Everything narrowed down to her. I moved closer, a strange recklessness fueling me. "Quite the opposite."

Something flickered in her eyes — surprise? wariness? — but the anger remained.

"Keep going," I insisted, moving closer. "Let it out. Yell at me, tell me how pathetic I am. Make me feel something, anything other than this damn emptiness."

She hesitated. Her eyes searched mine, and for a breathless moment, I hoped that her fury, her anger, would burn away the numbness, making me feel something, anything.

Because even her anger was better than her indifference.

I couldn't stand being indifferent to her.

Might as well make her hate me.

"You want me to yell at you?" Her voice rose, the first hint of the storm I craved. "Fine! You wanna be a pathetic mess? Go ahead! Piss away your career, your life, whatever the hell you care about, I don't give a damn anymore!"

Each word hit me, but there was a desperate relief in it. Finally, she wasn't looking at me with that chilling indifference, that cold pity that twisted a knife in my gut.

Her rage, it was fire — scorching and brutal, but alive. And I loved it.

Because it was prove she still cared, even if it was just to hate me with every fiber of her being. It was better than the void, that terrible chasm that had opened up between us after I'd pushed her away.

I closed the distance, enjoying the anger in her eyes. She flinched, but didn't back down.

"More." I grabbed her waist, lifting her with ease, and hauled her towards the bed.

"You're weak!" she spat, pushing against my chest, her voice rising with each word.

Yeah, so damn weak for you, love.

"You're selfish! So consumed by your own self-pity you can't see how you hurt everyone around you!"

Her words should have hurt. They probably would have, under different circumstances. But right now, I couldn't care less.

"Keep going," I rasped, my pulse pounding in my ears. I forced her onto the bed and hovered over her, my body trapping her between the mattress and my own. "C'mon, love, let it all out."

"You don't deserve me," she continued. "You don't deserve anyone who gives a damn, because you only know how to destroy things."

Each word was a knife. Yet, with each insult, the suffocating hollowness inside me eased a fraction. I wanted her anger, the full force of it, wanted the burn only she could inflict on me.

"More."

Her breath hitched, eyes narrowing. "You keep breaking my heart over and over, then come crawling back when it suits you, like it doesn't matter!"

"You're right." I leaned in, my thumb brushing over her bottom lip. The thin fabric of her shirt did little to hide her shivers. "C'mon, love, give it to me. I know you can do better."

In one swift move, I ripped my shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor. I leaned down again, my breath ghosting over her lips. "Hate me." My hands went for the flimsy waistband of her shorts. "Tell me how much you despise me."

Her breaths came fast, quick gasps against my skin. I could see it all over her face — the rage, the fear, and maybe — yeah, maybe that darker edge, the same desperation burning in me.

"I fucking hate you, Satoru. Hate that you made me care, made me fall for you, then crushed it."

"Don't stop," I said, my voice a hoarse rasp. "Say it again." Before she could react, her shorts were down, exposing her to the night air. My own pants followed hasty, desperate. "Say you hate me."

"I fucking hate that you treat me like I'm just another damn plaything to fill whatever void your messed-up mom or whatever left you with!"

Okay, now it gets personal.

"I fucking hate that you act like you can control me," she hissed, but her body betrayed her, shivered running down her skin as my hands gazed her collarbone. "Hate that you make my choices for me, decide what's good for me, like you got to have control over something when you obviously can't control yourself!"

Damn, Freud himself is on to something tonight, huh? She really doesn't know when to stop.

"You're a fucking hypocrite, you know that?" I leaned closer, my mouth close to her ear. "You hate who I am, but you crave this, don't you? Giving up control, being at my mercy. Admit it."

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. She lifted a hand, as if to slap me, but I was faster. I caught her wrists and pinned them above her head, pressing them hard into the mattress.

"You know it's true," I pressed, relishing the way she struggled against my hold. "It's hard always being the composed one, isn't it? The responsible one. It's draining. Maybe that's why you're drawn to me. You love the thrill as much as I do, don't you?"

She stared at me, silent, her lips a tight line.

"Prove me wrong, sweetheart. Call me a liar, and I'll show you just how wrong you are," I leaned in closer, my voice a harsh whisper against her lips. "We're the same, you and me. We feed off each other. Even if you hate to admit it, I fill that emptiness inside you same as you do for me."

"You arrogant piece of shit!" she spat, twisting and bucking against my grip. "You think you know everything, control everything!"

"Don't I?" My grip tightened, feeling her pulse throb against my fingers. "Seems I've got you pinned pretty damn well, wouldn't you say?"

"You know it's true. You love this. Makes you feel something your books, your fancy grades never could."

"Screw you, Satoru," she hissed, venom in her voice. "We're nothing alike."

"You really are a fool, for wanting to fix something so broken it'll cut you to shreds the moment you get close and then you cry afterwards—"

Her spit hit my face. I closed my eyes for a second, then a smile twisted across my lips.

My future wife just spit in my face — what a good anecdote on our wedding day.

"That's my girl," I rasped, shoving her legs wider. "Tell me how much you hate me. Scream it."

"I fucking hate you Satoru, I hate you—"

Her words died on her tongue as I thrust forward, filling her completely. I closed my eyes, letting my head hang heavy for a second.

My god, the things this woman's body could do to me. I could feel her body trembling beneath me, her heart racing as she arched her back.

How treacherous a body can be, huh?

"Hate you, Satoru," she managed to say before she closed her eyes, biting down her lip as I thrust deeper still. Her thighs spread further apart, inviting me closer, urging me onward.

She's so damn beautiful.

I grinned, my hands still holding her wrists in place over her head. "I know you do, love. But you know what?" My lips were only a breath away from hers. "I hate you, too. I hate how you make me feel, how you expose every broken piece of me, how I crave you like I crave another fix."

Hell, I might just be addicted to this woman.

I pulled out fully, before thrusting back into her. Her head fell back, pressing into the mattress as a strangled moan escaping her lips.

She felt incredible.

Pulling back slowly, I watched her body react to the absence, her eyes flickering open to meet mine. Those pupils dilated with need, mirroring my own hunger for her.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not our fight. Not our problems. Not our insults that had left our lips moments before. Just us — two halves coming together in a perfect whole.

I pushed back into her, deeper, harder.

With each thrust, I felt myself sinking deeper into her, losing myself in her. Fuck, if there was anything better than this — well, I hadn't found it yet.

This woman owned me — plain and simple.

It was madness, this pull towards her.

Insane, perhaps.

But it was also undeniably real. So real that even though dawn threatened to break soon, stealing away whatever remnants of darkness remained, I couldn't help but chase after that high only she could provide.

Even knowing full well that when morning arrived, reality would crash down upon us, forcing us back onto opposite sides of the divide.

"Look what you've done to me, love. You're making a fool of me." I whispered against her lips without touching them.

Weren't together anymore after all.

Kissing would be too much.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath me. Her nails dug into my skin where my hands gripped her wrists. With each deep thrust, I watched her face contort with pleasure and pain, her features illuminated by fleeting streaks of moonlight seeping through the curtains.

I loved that look on her face.

I wondered if I could make that look even more pathetic.

I pulled out, dragging the tip of my length across her clit before pushing back in. She squirmed underneath me, arching her back. But I denied her, keeping my unhurried pace. I wanted to draw out this sweet torture for as long as possible.

Hours passed — or perhaps mere minutes. I couldn't tell anymore. All that mattered was this woman writhing beneath me.

Groaning in frustration, she attempted to break free from my grip. "Dammit, Satoru. If you won't finish what you started, then get off me!"

I smirked. "Why so eager, love. Can't handle the wait?" I leaned in to kiss down the side of her neck. She shivered beneath me, her breath hitching as my teeth grazed her skin.

With my free hand I reached down, running my fingers down her quivering stomach, relishing in the shivers that coursed through her body.

She glared up at me, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Stop calling me 'love'. I don't belong to you, not anymore—"

She gasped into my mouth when I found her clit. Slowly, deliberately, I began to circle it with my thumb, feeling her surrender to me. I plunged deeper, thrusting into her mercilessly.

Let her hate me all she wants. She can't deny the chemistry between us — a spark that refuses to fade, no matter how hard either of us tries.

She must have hated this — hated how she surrendered to me, even with all that anger. Made me wondered if I could rail her up even more.

"You think you're so much better than me?" I rasped. "So strong, so selfless, always putting others first? It's a lie, and you know it. You're just bored."

"You fucker!" Before I knew what was happening, she broke free of my grasp and had flipped us over so that she was now straddling my hips.

Without warning, she reached forward, gripping my throat with surprising strength as she leaned down, her hair falling like a curtain around our faces. I couldn't help but smile.

"Don't project your bullshit on me," she seethed, her face inches from mine.

Her words sent a chill down my spine, stirring up a fresh wave of desire within me. Damn, this woman was infuriating — and captivating in the worst way possible.

We glared at each other like enemies preparing for battle.

"Aren't you a little tired? Pulling up that act all the time?" I choked out, feeling her fingers dig in further. "Deep down, you're just as bored as me, you're just too righteous to admit it."

"Shut up," she hissed, pressing harder, choking the words out of me.

This was madness. Destructive madness. But for this one desperate moment, I didn't care. It was exhilarating, addictive. Because love, our twisted, broken love, wasn't supposed to be pretty.

It was messy, chaotic, and borderline abusive. But sometimes all you need is a firm grip around the throat to remind you that you're alive.

"Harder, love," I gasped, a laugh bubbling up in my constricted throat. "Come on, make me feel your rage."

Slowly, deliberately, she began grinding her hips against mine, setting a maddening pace that left me reeling. Fuck, I think I love it even more when she hates me.

"Ahh, shit," I gasped, clutching at her thighs as she rode me mercilessly. "That's it."

Eyes squeezed shut, my head rolled back. Chills prickled my skin, possibly due to the cool breeze drifting in from the window. Or perhaps it was merely her.

She rode me with increased speed, and I could barely contain the overwhelming sensations coursing through my body. Every fiber of my being screamed for release.

My knuckles on her thighs turned white from the force. "Oh, shit, you're going to kill me," I moaned between choked sounds that escaped my lips.

My lips twisted into a smile again. "Admit it. You love the chaos as much as I do. The thrill, the way it makes you feel alive."

"You're wrong," she said, increasing her pace making my cock twitch inside her. "We're nothing alike."

"Keep telling yourself that," I replied, struggling to catch my breath, as she made me lose my mind. "But I know the truth—we're two sides of the same coin."

"You really believe that, don't you?"

"Why else would you be here, like this, with me?" I countered. "Face it, we're addicted to each other—the highs, the lows, the constant push and pull. It's exhilarating, isn't it?"

"You're the only addict here."

"Liar," I rasped.

Her muscles clenched around me, drawing me deeper inside her. She was close. Each contraction of her pushing me further towards a peak that I knew would soon shatter me.

But I wasn't ready yet. Not quite.

I shifted our positions, sitting upright before spinning us around so she was now beneath me on the mattress. I positioned myself behind her, forcing her down onto the mattress.

I slowly slid my hand along her spine as I pushed her further down, feeling her tremble beneath my touch, the softness of her skin beneath my fingertips.

It was intoxicating to watch her submit to me.

"Fuck, you'll be the death of me."

Leaning down, I pressed my lips against the small of her back, feeling her shiver once more. My hand continued its descent, stopping just short of where she needed me.

"Satoru," my name fell from her lips.

Oh, how I loved it when she breathed my name like that. I couldn't resist her — could never resist her. I was at her mercy. Even now.

She arched her back, silently pleading for me to continue. I slid my hand between her legs. "God, you're so fucking wet," I murmured, slipped a finger inside her, then another. She was so tight, so warm.

I couldn't wait to be inside her again.

She gasped, pushing back against me. "Don't stop."

Curving my fingers, I searched for that spot that I knew would drive her mad. When I found it, she cried out, her hips bucking against my hand. Her hands scrabbled at the sheets, grasping for purchase as I started to move inside her.

"Yes, fuck," she moaned, spreading her legs wider. "Right there."

Oh, love. I know you like that.

I smiled, relishing the fact that I knew her body better than herself. I knew every inch of her, every freckle, every scar, every sensitive spot that made her squirm.

"More," she begged.

I happily obliged, adding a third finger and thrusting deeper. She was soaking wet, her juices coating my fingers as I fucked her with my hand. Her moans grew louder, more urgent. She was close, so close.

I increased the pace of my fingers, pumping them in and out of her as I used my thumb to apply pressure to her clit.

However, as her moans reached a fever pitch, I withdrew my fingers, denying her release.

She gasped, glanced over her shoulder at me, her mouth open, but said nothing — probably out of breath.

I brought my fingers to my mouth, savoring the taste of her. It was so uniquely her. I couldn't get enough.

Leaning in, I pressed my body against hers from behind, my hard length probed at her entrance.

I leaned down over her, my hand snaking into her hair. I grabbed it tightly, forcing her head up to meet mine. "I love you, first-year," I murmured against her ear.

She trembled, but her defiance remained strong. "I hate you."

I sighed — always so fierce, makes me wonder what it takes to fuck that stubborn attitude out of her.

"It's alright, I love you enough for both of us."

With that, I pushed her head down into the mattress. Her cry muffled by the sheets beneath her as I thrust into her once more, bottoming out inside her with a groan.

I began to move in and out of her. Faster now, harder until the headboard slammed against the wall. Her muscles clenched around me, drawing me deeper inside her. She clawed at the sheets beneath her, her moans muffled by the fabric.

As her cries grew louder, I quickly pushed her face further into the mattress. "Quiet, first year," I murmured as I angled myself to rub against her G-spot, making it harder for her to keep quiet. "Wouldn't want to disturb anyone in the middle of the night, would we?"

Neither of us spoke a word — not that she could but — perhaps because there was nothing left to say. Instead, we communicated solely through our actions, saying everything that needed to be said without opening our mouths.

I increased both the pace and pressure. Nearly causing her to fall forward hadn't I held her in place with one hand on her waist and one sill in her hair. Her breath hitched, her entire body tensed as she approached her breaking point.

Oh, how I loved feeling her tighten around me.

Bringing her closer to the edge was a thrill like no other. Watching her lose control, hearing her cries and moans, feeling her body tremble beneath me — it was intoxicating.

I could feel myself getting closer to the edge, my balls tightening as I approached my own release.

Her cries grew louder, more urgent, until finally, she shattered around me, her orgasm triggering my own.

With a final thrust, I emptied myself inside her, filling her completely. Her contractions milked every last drop from me, her body still quivering around me.

I stayed inside her, savoring the feeling. It might be the last time.

I was panting, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I tried to catch my breath. My cock was still twitching inside her. Reluctantly, I pulled out with a low moan.

I stayed behind her for a moment longer, admiring the curve of her waist, the sheen of sweat on her skin in the sliver of moonlight.

Don't know when or if I'll ever see that again.

Time seemed to stand still, suspended indefinitely as we tried to find our breath again.

Then she turned her head. "You're a fucking idiot," she finally said.

"Tell me something I don't know."

She shifted to face me, her expression serious. "Promise me something."

"Anything you want, love."

"Promise me, you won't kill yourself with your pills."

I swallowed hard. That's not what'll get me, I thought, as I felt a sharp pain lancing through my right side.

I moved closer, cupping her face with my hands that trembled slightly. For an insane moment, I wanted to kiss her, but I knew I couldn't — couldn't ever again. "I promise," I rasped.

The words heavy with a lie we both knew.

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: wooooaaa, another insane!gojo chapter lol. this chapter really killed me, was crying, screaming, throwing up while writing.

i'm equally scared and excited to hear what you think about todays chapter, ngl. originally i didn't plan a smut scene in this chapter, but you know, somewhere down that line gojo just happened and here we are.

also like, i think now both their's darkest secrets are now out — in the worst way possible. also because i keep getting messages regarding how much chapters are left of the story, idk i write form chapter to chapter. we're down somewhere the 60—70 % line with the story i guess, but we'll see. still more to uncover of gojo's past and all that.

also sorry for the people asking of for more fluff and happy moments, ehhh, there will be some in the future?? also i'm still sticking to the plan of a happy ending, so don't worry!! gojo fucked up big time and the next chapters will center about him trying to fight his fears and get shit together — let's see if he can do that. curious myself.

so thank you so so much for sicking by with the story. sending kisses to all of you lovely people seeing me messages, leaving likes, comments and reblog stuff. it really makes my heart happy everything i see a notification. love you all sm!! ♡

okay my last note, just so you know, i'm going on vocation soon, so the next chapter will be a bit delayed again, sorraaaayyy!! wishing you a great day or night and an awesome weekend ahead! ♡

🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved @ykehqqy @hexrts-anatomy @fvsm4x @tw0fvced @heijihattorisgf @sadmonke @thatsopanu @sirencholia @sugurusdiscordmoderator @erwinslut @shervinss @certainlysyko @mechalily @purplehallow11 @kendall0111 @bloopsstuff @therealestpussyeater @louoi7 @whereflowerswenttodie @billiondollarworth @deluluforcarlos55 @starrynight-777 @vina21 @michelleeveline @boba-is-a-soup @cre8inghavoc @love-jelly @daimiyu @d0nk3y-k0ng @mo0nforme @smolbeanzzz @oneiricals @ynishalee @gojolvrr34 @nanasukii28 @ariiiii0938 @kelppsstuff @tojisdollx @drakenswifeyy @bakarinnie @vina21 @phoenix-eclipses @nanamis-baker @neptnszn (pls comment on the series masterlist to get tagged in the future!)

#symptoms and causes #gojo saturo #jujutsu kaisen #saturo gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x female reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo angst #gojo angst #jjk smut #gojo satoru #jjk x you #jjk fanfic

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solarwonux · 8 months

Text

Business Proposal Masterlist

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do” pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst, namjoon is pretty much not the nicest dude lol (will add more as it progresses), kinda sugar daddy au but not really. It will make sense I promise.

Rating: mature, 18+

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

AO3

MASTERLIST

WATTPAD

Hello everyone, I don't know why I didn't make a master list for this story in the first place, but here you are. I hope everyone who comes across this story understands that I am not able to update as frequently as I used when I was in quarantine. For that reason I do have a taglist so that you guys can be notified of when I post. If you're interested in being added just lmk through this post or an ask.

I also may not reply to a lot of the comments because I kind off get overwhelmed easily just know that I do read them all, and that each one holds a special place in my heart.

One more thing: Since I live in Korea all my updates will be at 9 am kst, which I think is around 8pm est and 5pm pst.

Thank you.xx

updated whenever I can <3

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fkinavocado · 22 days

Text

Daddy issues- Masterlist, Author’s Note & Warnings

extra / alternatively, read on wattpad

*timeline: somewhere after the main story

Piccolo amore (word count: 8k) -updated 8th of April 2024

You don’t know how this ever escaped you before, but as it turned out, Harry had quite the thing for travelling. As a divorced, smoking hot, young DILF (well, he was a father after all), Harry had eventually embraced his freedom after enough years had passed for him to actually start enjoying life again. He had limited visitation rights for his small daughter, Emily, so what was a divorced, smoking hot, young DILF to do other than to travel, namely through Europe, although some of his other favourite destinations had been as far away as Japan.

He was 27 when he first stepped foot in Italy, and, according to Harry, it was love at first sight. Had it not been for Emily, he’d have moved indefinitely, that’s how much he loved it there. He took extended trips though, and had even started to learn some Italian, practising everytime he stayed for as long as 2 months at a time.

As time went on though, his interior design business really took off back in the US and his growing daughter needed his presence in her life more and more, despite her mother’s interference and efforts to alienate them. Time had flown, and here he was, 43 now and no longer single this time around as he returned after countless years.

But very much still a smoking hot DILF.

��Tuscany, Italy. Literal heaven on earth. You hadn’t bought the plane tickets back yet, but you were in no hurry to leave.

It’d been a journey, getting here. And you didn’t just mean Tuscany.

It hadn’t been easy.

Days had trickled by seamlessly. You’d lost track of how long you’d been here for. It was a haze of sleeping in, sunbathing, afternoon naps, decadent food and sweaty, delicious sex.

Looking at him on the wheel of the convertible he’d rented for your stay there, your heart felt like it could inflate enough to break out of your chest. His curls were a delicious mess, he was all tanned and bright eyes as he glanced at you from time to time to flash one of those trademark smiles of his your way. The sun was setting so you’d taken his sunnies off, making him chuckle. “Just wanna look at you properly.”

“Look at the scenery! You can always ogle me but you’re not gonna have this view every day.”

“All I want is you every day.” Yes, Tuscany was breathtaking but whenever you tried to remind yourself to take it all in you inadvertently found yourself settling your eyes back on Harry. How could you, when there was a time, not long ago, when you thought you’d never lay eyes on him ever again?

He squeezed your thigh, his hand in your lap as always and you kept caressing his knuckles, probably doing a great job at polishing his rings as a result. He had to keep his eyes on the road, since these were unfamiliar places you were exploring almost on the daily and almost every road was as narrow as the last.

He flipped his palm over yours, interlacing your fingers, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing it gently. He then placed it over his heart and you giggled as he pulled you almost completely over to his side in doing so. He let go then, chuckling in return but you kept your arm extended, and ran the back of your hand along the side of his face, caressing his cheekbone, then his ear, running your fingers through his hair a bit, then down his sharp jawline,admiring his perfect profile.

“I love you, you know,” you nearly murmured, and with the loud sportscar engine you weren’t sure he’d even heard you.

But he did. Had he still been wearing his sunglasses you probably would’ve missed the way his eyes glazed over, slowly growing sparkly in the sunset light. “Baby… none of that. Come on, let me see that handsome smile again.”

“I am smiling. I’m always smiling nowadays. Always. No matter what happens, my default state is happy, because you’re here. I just get emotional sometimes… never tire of you saying that. Never stop, please.”

It was your turn to get teary eyed. “Baby… never. I’ll never stop saying it, feeling it, showing you how much I love you. All the times I wished I could tell you and couldn’t… never taking a day for granted ever again.”

Harry was pulling over, having entered the town you were passing through to get to the small quaint village where you’d rented out a villa for your stay, and before you could ask why, he leaned over and kissed you senseless. This was another thing you’d never tire of. Harry never kissed just for the hell of it. He put his all into every single kiss, be it small, chaste peck or full on make-out session. “My little love. Let’s have gelato for dessert and then I’m taking you home to love on you, how’s that sound?”

“Can we skip the gelato?”

Harry chuckled. “Darling, are you really passing up ice cream so that I could fuck you sooner?”

“Duh. Feel like licking something else. And creampies are better than icecreams. Come onnn….”

Harry laughed out loud at that. “You’re a menace. Up you get before you talk me into this.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but he was already at the passenger door opening it for you then reaching over to the backseat to grab your jacket. It could get chilly even in the warm summer evenings sometimes. He kept it in his one hand and held yours in his other as you began your slow stroll through the nice little town, but Harry seemed to know where you were headed.

“You got a specific place in mind?”

“Mhm. Used to come here often back in the day. Hope it’s still running, they had the best gelato. A… uhm, local brought me there, so you know it’s the real deal.”

“A local, huh?” You teased. Of course you knew what Harry must have been up to on his trips here when he was younger. Nothing wrong about it, of course, and you felt silly for being ever so slightly jealous over it. Part of you wished you could’ve been together much earlier on, but of course, the age difference would’ve made it impossible anyway. You two had met at exactly the right time. Even so, sometimes you felt nostalgic over the lost time you could’ve had together had things been different. Some of which was just life… and some of it, your own doing.

“Signor Harry!”

Your eyes widened at the interaction between the two men, snapping out of your train of thought, the guilt ebbing away but never really going away, ever.

You couldn’t understand Italian, but Harry was still pretty fluent, at least conversationally. He understood it more than he could speak it, at least that’s what he claimed, but ever since you’d arrived in Tuscany he only spoke Italian to everyone he interacted with. You just sat back and admired him, Italian sounded hot as fuck coming out of his mouth. You could tell there was always some sort of talk about you going on with the way the people he was speaking to kept looking at you; and the little you did understand- “bellissima”, “ragazza”, “amante”- you knew that was in reference to you.

This instance was no different, the old man he’d encountered behind the gelato stand seemingly very interested in knowing more about you. Lord knows what Harry was telling them, they all had the same excited reaction, shaking his hand and patting him on the back, sometimes they’d wink at you and it’d make you all flustered.

“Piccolo amore, what flavors would you like, hm?” He pulled you closer into his side.

“Har, they’re all in Italian…”

He pointed at each, translating for you. “Bourbon vanilla, but I guess you got that, Belgian chocolate too, ummm, rum and raisins, strawberries, mint chocolate chip, lemon, meringue,...” he clarified with the older man and then continued “figs, pistachio, dark chocolate, crème brûlée–”

“Oh gosh, stop, I can’t even keep track of so many… just get me what you think I’ll like, alright? What are you getting? Mint chocolate chip?”

“Duh,” he mimicked you from earlier and smothered a kiss on the top of your head, then gave the old man your order. He’d gotten a cone with two scoops for you, which he handed over promptly. “There you go, lovie. I got you dark chocolate and pistachio.”

“Perfect,” you beamed.

“Sorry, they didn’t have creampie.”

You nearly choked on your first taste of the icecream but promptly remembered the older man probably didn’t know what that was. Hopefully. Or if it sounded familiar he’d probably think of an apple pie with extra whipped cream, or something. Hopefully.

“It’s ok, that’s what you would’ve wanted anyway,” you teased and gave him a pointed look. He’d slurped you clean from behind as recently as that morning. He pinched your hip he was resting his hand on then diverted his attention to his double scoop of mint chocolate chip, on a cone just like yours. Harry exchanged some more pleasantries with the old man, as well as paid for the gelato, then after you waved at him politely you resumed your stroll through the old historical town.

Harry loved throwing his arm over your shoulders, or better yet, keeping a firm hold of the back of your neck as you walked. He’d always been possessive of you, and, if anything, he was even more so in Italy where men had a distinct way of ogling women, even catcalling- something they’d never dream of doing with Harry by your side, of course, but their eyes roamed freely scanning you head to toe, and you could feel it everywhere you went. Harry must’ve been hyper aware of it too, maybe more so than you were, because he would snake his hand into your hair and angle your head sufficiently to kiss you- the minty, cold feel of his tongue against yours novel and refreshing. Or even slide his large palm in the back pocket of your jeans, giving your bum a firm squeeze every now and then. “Love this plump arse.”

You puffed through your nostrils, “you better, it’s your fault it’s getting so big. First that fancy pasta and wine for dinner, not gelato, and it’s been like this ever since we got here. I barely buttoned up these jeans today. Gonna have to resort to just wearing my sundresses.”

“You’ll hear no complaints here. Besides, I did say I’d feed you and plump you up, didn’t I? You’re about the same as you were when we first met. Perfect.”

He was right. You’d lost a significant amount of weight in an unhealthy way during your time apart. And he was looking so much healthier too. Happier.

“You’re beautiful either way, Y/N. I just want you healthy and happy. And I know for a fact pasta makes you happy, so…” he shrugged playfully and you kissed his dimple. You knew he was thinking about the same things you were.

It was hard letting go of the past. You couldn’t erase the time apart and the damage it’d done to both of you and your relationship. But for the past 5 months you’d been rebuilding it, day after day, brick by brick. Some days were tough. Especially at the beginning. It’d taken a lot of love, patience and understanding on both sides to get where you were now.

But it was always in the back of your mind.

You still woke up in the middle of the night, startled, somehow back in those crappy places you used to rent out while you’d been on the run. Only for Harry to tighten his hold around your middle, kiss your shoulder gently and reassure you he was there and he wasn’t going anywhere. Ever.

Harry battled insomnia for a long while, something he’d suffered with while you’d been apart and couldn’t seem to shake off. It reached a point where he now was struggling not to doze off while softening, still inside of you, cuddling in your post orgasmic bliss, before he could clean both of you up. Took a lot of night-long marathons to get there, but it did the trick. The flipside was you calling him an old man. But what else was new?

It still felt weird drinking wine by yourself at dinner, since Harry was now completely sober. Had been since he’d found you waiting on his doorstep. He’d struggled with it at first. It’s hard giving up alcohol cold turkey especially considering it’d gotten to the point where he got into the habit of getting wasted and getting himself into trouble while you’d been apart. Just to… feel something.

You didn’t know how he’d done it, but he hadn’t had a sip since you’d been back into his eyes. You knew it must’ve been really difficult, but he kept the struggle to himself. Focused on you and your fragile relationship.

It’d been particularly hard that one time when you went out with his extended group of friends for Halloween and he found himself in a social setting where everyone was drinking around him, for the first time in a long while. And that would’ve been manageable had he not had to watch a new addition to the group give you a hickey, in a game of truth or dare. You still remember how hard it’d been for Harry to reign it in that night- not just the need for alcohol but also keeping himself in check, doing his best to calm down in the bathroom and then leave the party inconspicuously before anyone got hurt. He tried to hide it from you but you found him in time to help him as best you could. You never wanted him to feel like he had to tackle all his demons alone.

That had been the biggest hurdle so far, but he’d made it through sans incident and you were so proud of him. You didn’t care giving up drinking for his sake if it meant it wouldn’t be a trigger for him, but he assured you that you could indulge whenever you felt like it and that it wasn’t your fault he had to give it up completely.

You could argue that it was, in fact, your fault. You had argued. You two didn’t see eye to eye on this at all, Harry insisting he wasn’t going to let you take the responsibility for it all: after all, his daughter had caused it all to spiral out of control- he should’ve told her off, been more assertive, taken control of the situation; hell, he should’ve raised her better!

But you tried your best not to go there, the two of you. Not anymore. You’d talked things out for a long while, and just decided it was better not to keep bringing up the hurtful past. There was no use anymore. You’d both learned your lessons from it and it was time to live in the moment. Create new, happy memories, that someday, maybe soon, would completely make up for those 17 months in which you’d both just… existed, at most.

And even when you got teary eyed, like earlier in the car, you didn’t have to speak the words to know what the other was trying to convey and how it all still hurt so much sometimes that it felt like the present was a sweet dream, a bubble ready to burst anytime, only for the two of you to wake up each in their own miserable existence, apart and alone.

It still hurt. You both still hurt, but you couldn’t change the past. So instead of pretending it never happened, you acknowledged it, and acted on it the best way you could, doting on eachother with as much love as you could.

Therapy helped a lot. Gave you the tools to work through it and turn it into a valuable lesson, if anything.

“You make me happy.”

He kissed the top of your head in response, “think it’s time to head back home. You’re getting needier by the minute.”

You squinted your eyes at him. “Well, excuse me for being a loving girlfriend I guess.”

“Oh, I know you are, baby. And I love it. But whenever you get like this I just know you’re gonna get all whiny and bratty if I don’t fill you up soon. Hm? Am I wrong? You’re gonna tell me you don’t feel all achy already?”

You huffed. Darnit. He knew you all too well.

“And then if I don’t act on it quick enough you turn bratty. So c’mon.” He placed your jacket he’d been carrying for you over your shoulders, “it’s getting a bit chilly, too.”

Harry was right, as always. You found yourself squirming on the ride back to the villa, rubbing your thighs together. Sure, the wine always got you a bit needy. But you’d acted pretty needy the whole trip. You were just so content and he looked so good and tan and radiant whenever he smiled, he spoke Italian in that low timbre, he fed you goodies and took you to see beautiful places, and then on top if it all he fucked you good and made you feel so loved and appreciated.

You just couldn’t help it. Your dynamic had shifted slightly ever since you’d gotten back together. He’d always been dominant but now you just naturally stepped wholly into your feminine energy in his presence, letting him take over completely- and not just in bed. You were his and handed yourself over to him fully. And it was palpable. You knew he could feel it too.

However, he was right about you getting bratty if he didn’t shower you in affection the moment you craved it. Be it because you were in a public setting or what, sometimes you wished you could just hop in his lap and forget about everything and everyone around. He made you crazy with want and need and you were still growing to learn this side of yourself, as he was learning to manage it. You trusted him to lead the way.

You just got impatient sometimes. Maybe a bit bratty even, as he put it.

You scooted closer to him, as far as your seatbelt allowed, and reached to kiss his jaw. You didn’t just stop after a loud smooch though, no, you started mouthing and nibbling at his jawline, licking your way up to his ear and making him shiver. He was cleanshaven, and you took full advantage.

“Just a gentle reminder that I’m driving a motorised vehicle, sweetheart.”

“I know. You always focus and prioritise our safety, driving so aptly down these narrow roads. And then when we’re on longer strips ahead you really hit the gas, so that my hair can fly all wild the way I like and I can throw my hands up and almost feel like I’m flying, and the car is all horsepower and you look like sex personified.” You brought your hand to his lap and began rubbing dangerously closer and closer to his crotch.

“Y/N,...” he warned.

“What? I can’t help it. Whenever you rev the engine it tickles me, daddy… can feel it in my pussy. Now I’m all drippy.”

“Told you you’d turn into a whiny brat. Scoot back in your seat and be a good girl for daddy. Go on, don’t make me ask you twice.”

You huffed irritatedly and did as instructed, crossing your arms over your chest and looking out the window at the scenery trying to distract yourself. It was dark out now and Harry had pulled the top on the convertible, so you really didn’t understand what the big deal was. You could’ve at least given him a handjob…

But finally, finally you got to the villa and as soon as Harry shut the door behind you, you literally jumped his bones, making him chuckle between the kisses you were peppering his whole face with.

“Uff, needy puppy. What’s gotten into you, hm? You’re extra lovesick today. Didn’t I fuck you good and proper this morning? I’m certain you remember it since you had to mention it in front of poor Luciano. He’s 79 you know. What if he’d had a heart attack?”

You gasped in mock offence, “excuse me?! You’re the one who brought it up!”

“I sure did, wanna see?”

You pushed at his shoulder at his stupid pun as he brought you to the bedroom. He was unfazed of course, you couldn’t budge him if you wanted to, and instead threw you onto the bed with a bounce as if you were a throw pillow he’d been carrying, not his “plumped-up” girlfriend.

He began unbuttoning his shirt, a sight you’d never tire of and you squirmed gawking at him before he pulled you by the ankles to the edge of the bed and peeled your jeans off. “Ufff, look at this weepy little pussy. You made a mess of these panties, Y/N,” he tsked and it only made you grow wetter. You loved it when he teased and even humiliated you a bit. “So, are you gonna answer me or not? What got you so cockdumb, darling, hm? Was it the wine?”

“No,” you whined, “you know I only had two glasses… it’s not that. Plus I ate enough carbs to make up for it, anyway.”

“Then what is it, hm?” He rubbed his hands up and down your legs, kneeling at the foot of the bed, and then pushed your knees to your chest, running his large palms over the back of your thighs.

You threw your head back against the mattress in anticipation and whined pathetically. He was right. You really were extra sensitive tonight. “I’m… I guess I’m ovulating. That must be it.”

Harry groaned deep in his chest and plunged nose first into the fabric of your panties, inhaling deeply. “You smell so heady whenever you ovulate, you know that? Pussy so fragrant, makes my mouth water.”

You’d not gotten back on birth control after so long off it. After a long while of relying on condoms you decided to ditch those, too. Harry pulled out most times, but, since creampies were obviously a hot topic in this relationship, you did ask him to finish inside you occasionally.

Lately it had been more often than not.

You both knew the implications of it, had discussed it. Hell, Harry definitely had a breeding kink to start off with, had had it even while you’d been on birth control since having this kink didn’t necessarily imply actually wanting to get you pregnant.

He’d expressed it was definitely more than just a kink though, and that he’d only ever felt this way about you. But it was up to you. He already had a kid, all grown up now ( even though Emily was still a delicate topic between the two of you). But you were young and he wasn’t too old to be a father by any means, you had time along the line for this, there was no rush, and there were no expectations either way. That being said, he did express his desire to have children with you if you deemed him worthy of it and if you even saw yourself as a mother someday.

You’d not made up your mind about it, however. You were open to the possibility, but definitely not actively trying for a baby, not yet at least. You still felt like you needed more time together just the two of you.

But the way he spoke to you whenever he talked about fantasising knocking you up really got to you. And he felt so good fucking you raw, felt so good filling you up. It felt so natural and your body craved it, craved all of it. It was primal, and you knew it, but it felt so good to just listen to what your bodies dictated instinctually.

You mewled and felt him pull your panties to the side, “fuck, Y/N. You’re drenched, baby. Why didn’t you tell daddy it was this bad, hm? Would’ve eaten you out in the restaurant’s bathroom or something.”

It wouldn’t have been the first time, either. No better than a couple of horny teenagers, really.

His mouth on you was divine, as always. You often wondered if other men even knew how to eat pussy the way Harry did. Seemed like some sort of special talent you were either born with or doomed to live without. He knew what you liked and needed better than you did. How else would anyone explain that you could never dream of getting yourself off the way Harry did?

He pushed your knees further back and really dug in after he promptly peeled your panties off of you. You wanted to beg for him to sink into you but you knew Harry never left a job unfinished, and whenever he ate you out he never left from between your legs until they were shaking and you came on his tongue at least twice, out of which at least once using his fingers also to open you up for him properly. Because, still, after all this time, you couldn’t really take Harry without some sort of warm-up, no matter how drippy you were for him. It was a struggle fitting him in whenever you tended to forgo foreplay, and that was something you fully enjoyed too. Loved the pain that came with him slowly feeding that massive cock of his into you, trying to make it fit inch by delicious inch. But that was for when you were either in a hurry of some sort and desperately needed to squeeze in a quickie, or for when he was feeling particularly mean dom-ish. You rarely got to experience Harry in that mindspace though, and even then he was never hurting you really. It was just a lot rougher and because it was such a rare treat, it was secretly your favourite.

This time, however, you’d seemingly forgotten how Harry had warned you not to get bratty. “Not in a hurry, baby. Gonna feast on this pussy for as long as I damn well please. After all, you know how much I love edging you, and you do need to be punished, hm? Brats don’t get to come. At least not until daddy says so. You’ve been warned, Y/N.”

“But daddy….” you whined pathetically, “I’ve been on edge all day, you can’t do this, not now… please!”

“Should’ve been patient, baby. Told you I’d take care of you when we got back. And I did take care of you this morning, you’re acting like a spoiled brat. Can’t have that can we?”

You kicked your legs a bit and Harry delivered a harsh slap to your bum followed by another swifter one to your pussy, making you keen and pant heavily. “Don’t test me, Y/N. You wanna come? Then be a good girl and take it. Begging doesn’t hurt either.”

You did take it, as best you could. And you did beg. You needed to come desperately but Harry kept edging you for what must’ve been at least over half an hour, although it felt like hours on end.

Then, you decided to switch tactics. Try and play on his own desires.

“Ugh, daddy, please, please fill me up. My pussy needs it, I need to be full. Need it so much. Need your big fat cock to ram into my cervix over and over again. Need to feel you in my tummy. And my tits feel so heavy and tender, at least show them some love, daddy. Please… ovulating is making me feel crazy… My body needs you to mark it every way you can, daddy. Please…”

Harry chuckled sardonically against your pussy, making you tremble but you knew better than to get lost in the feeling and let yourself come without permission. “I know what you’re doing, sweetheart. What a desperate, filthy little thing, playing with me this way. You really must want it bad to taunt daddy like this.”

“I do, daddy, I do, I swear I do… I’d do anything. Just tell me and I’ll do it. All I want is for you to fill me up to the brim and then keep going. Cause I know you can, I’ve seen you do it… I love how you stay hard for me even after you finish, pumping your come back into me again and again and then going all night long until you have me choke on you so that you could unload down my throat this time… please, want it again daddy, I know you can… don’t you want to? Doesn’t have to be my mouth the second time around, you can come inside me again, make it catch. Knock me up. Tie me down.”

Harry groaned loudly this time around and pushed your thighs apart, hovering over you whilst his hand went directly around your neck, squeezing enough for you to roll your eyes to the back of your head. He eased up a little for you to focus your gaze back on him before he licked his lips, your juices all over his face that he’d shaved clean that very afternoon before you’d left for dinner. You loved how he did that sometimes, just as much as you loved his stubble. It was a nice switch and he looked just as handsome either way, you couldn’t make up your mind which you preferred more. However, you did feel grateful he’d shaved before edging you like this for so long, otherwise you’d have been sure to chafe a bit from all the friction his stubble would’ve inflicted.

“Careful, sweetheart. You’re playing with fire. You know all too well I’d love nothing more than to fuck a baby into you. I already creampied you this morning, we’re on dangerous territory as it is.”

He was right. You knew he was. But in that moment, fuck it if you cared. If anything, you two had learned how to just be, live in the moment. Tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed.

“All I know is that I want you, all of you. Forever. Whatever that means. Let’s just… be.”

Harry pressed his lips against you and kissed you thoroughly. He’d long since undressed as well, stroking himself languidly every now and then as he ate you out. He didn’t edge himself, you’re the one who needed to be punished, but he just couldn’t help himself. He wanted to be inside of you just as much as you did. But Harry had one thing you lacked which was self control and that’s one of the things that made him such an apt dom in the bedroom.

So, it was easy to slip right inside of you, your pussy swallowing him up hungrily and squeezing him tightly, lest he pulled away. It was such a heady feeling finally being full after craving it for what felt like ages that he’d been edging you, and it only took a few minutes and his permission for you to come hard all over him, making a mess of both of you and the bedding. Luckily the villa had another bedroom you’d not used yet so you didn’t have to worry about changing the bedsheets before you went to sleep.

“That’s it, baby, fucking drench me. Fuck, you were ready to burst weren’t you? My poor darling. Daddy really did a number on you tonight. Gonna keep on coming for me, really open you up for me. How’s that sound? We’re gonna go from edging to overstimulating this poor, sopping pussy.”

You cried out real tears of pleasure as he was dirty talking all throughout your orgasm, never slowing down, no reprieve. He was hellbent on going from one extreme to the other. “Gonna open you up real good, push myself in so deep you’ll feel it for days. You wanted all night? I’ll give you all night.”

Harry didn’t let up. Had you coming on his cock over and over again, your orgasms closer and closer together the longer he went. Flipped you around on your hands and knees, then your stomach, then onto your side, and when you were ready to pass out… the sadistic bastard made you ride him.

You did your best for a good two minutes, until he huffed mockingly. “What’s the matter, sweetheart, thought you wanted to go all night long. You’re barely moving. That’s not very nice, after you begged me to give you my cock for so long.”

You got whiny and frustrated at his teasing tone and really did your best but your thighs were already shaky from all those orgasms, you simply couldn’t muster up the strength. Harry kept mocking you, sitting back, hands behind his head “no better than a pillow princess, look at you. You shouldn’t talk the talk if you can’t walk the walk, baby.”

“Daddy… please… I can’t…”

“I know you can’t. What, you want daddy to do all the work, hm? Nothing but a hole to come into, that’s what you wanna be? Do you think this is what all those Italian women Luciano saw me with year after year did once I brought them back with me for the night? Pfff…”

“Daddy!!!” You cried out. “You’re being cruel…”

“Am I? I haven’t even finished once and you want me to keep going after that, meanwhile you can’t even ride me properly. Silly girl… claimed you wanted me to breed you. Want to be a mother? Gotta be a woman first, learn how to satisfy your man.” He reached over and smacked your bum, which propelled you further, almost dismounting him.

However, the tears that immediately flooded your eyes took you by surprise. This was not the first time Harry had degraded you in bed. You loved it and he knew you did. It was a rare treat, just like him getting rougher with you, which he hadn’t tonight. You usually got off embarrassingly quickly to it, and you knew he’d never say anything with the intention of hurting you.

Harry laughed sardonically but when you pulled back up whatever he’d been gearing up to say got lodged in his throat when he saw the tears gleaming in your eyes, your hands crossing and going to your throat protectively as you straightened up. He immediately pulled out and sat you on his lap, scrambling to cradle you to his chest. “Fuck, baby, you know I meant none of that– you know that! We were playing. You usually love it when I degrade you a bit… I’m such a silly man. Should’ve known better than to go there.”

He spoke softly, caressing and petting you all over, rocking the both of you back and forth and shushing you as you still hiccuped your tears against his chest. “I know… I know you didn’t mean it, but… I just… I was already wondering about them since we got here, I’ve been meaning to ask about what yo– what you used to do when you’d come down here, but I was too much of a coward. I– I got really upset just thinking about it. I know it’s silly… and it’s probably what’s been making me so needy, even before I began ovulating… I just can’t stand the thought. And knowing what… I mean– when we were apart… ughh. I just can’t stomach it, Harry. You were entitled to… You were single after all… in all of those instances… but… but, you’re mine, and…”

“I am yours. I’m yours, Y/N. I pushed it too far… I know your legs are all shaky, I made you ride me on purpose just to mess with you a bit,… but I took it too far.” Feeling you calm down ever so slightly, he pulled away and made you look at him, pushing your hair behind your ears and smudging your tears away. “No one, and I mean no one can ever dream of coming close to you. You hear me? Nobody’s made me feel better, ever. You’re all I could ever dream of, you need to know this Y/N. I’ve never been as compatible sexually with anyone the way I am with you. You think anyone else’s made me finish and then keep on going the whole damn night? Not even when I was younger, let alone now. If I’m any good it’s your own merit, you make me want to push myself and do better, be better for you, every damn time. You make me hard just glancing at you. You’re the best I’ve ever had. And I’m not just saying it to undo the silly stuff I said earlier, none of which was true. I know how jealous you get, I love it a bit too much when you get like that… and I love mocking you and seeing you get all squirmy and embarrassed– but that’s not how I should’ve done it, I went too far. I didn’t mean any of it, please believe me Y/N. I swear it. You’re all I want. I’m the luckiest bastard. Please believe me, sweetheart.”

“I know… I know it, rationally. But it just… rubbed me the wrong way, even though we were playing and I knew better. I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry. I’m sorry. I’m a fucking idiot. Please forgive me.”

“I do. It’s alright. Let’s forget about it, alright?”

Harry looked heartbroken. You’d not really seen him like this for a while and it pained you, so much so that you wish you could’ve just kept your mouth shut and went with it, since you sincerely did believe none of it was really true.

But you swore you’d be truthful to one another, and especially in the bedroom Harry had insisted so much on you voicing any sort of discomfort regarding anything, no matter how small. You never safe worded, hell, you didn’t have one, because you never needed to; he knew how to read your queues and you’d never had to stop anything before.

This was the first time you’d stopped sex.

Eventually, you took a shower together where Harry doted on you and handled you with utmost care and tenderness. Then took you into the other bedroom where a fresh bed awaited and held you tight into his arms. “I love you so much, Y/N. You mean everything to me. I hate that I made you cry, hate that I made you feel even for a second like what I was saying was true at all. It makes me sick to my stomach…”

“Would you… want to tell me about them? The women you met here?”

Harry sighed profusely. “Darling, there’s nothing to say. Meaningless people that I can’t even recall the name of, if I even knew them to begin with. I remember nothing about any of them. I was trying to heal after the divorce, trying to let loose a bit… tried to have a bit of fun, lord knows I needed to get out of my head. Looking back, it’s almost laughable. I really thought I’d hit rock bottom back them… little did I know, it could be so, so much worse than that.

“But… at the time, I felt miserable. I began travelling like I told you a few years after the divorce and I quickly became enamoured with Italy specifically. I don’t know… I just love this country. The women… were a means to an end, I was never looking for anything serious, and they knew it. I wasn’t leading anyone on. Never met someone I connected with. I told you, I’d never been with anyone serious after my divorce until you. I’d never known sex could be this way til I met you. Sure, I’d discovered my more dominant side a while back, not gonna try and lie and say I’ve not had plenty of experience in that regard. But, sex is just sex, at the end of the day. Some partners were better than others, and when I was here back when I was younger I hadn’t even indulged in most of my kinks and fantasies yet. It was later on that I embraced all of that.

“But trust me when I say, I’ve never clicked with someone sexually like this. I don’t know if it’s because I’d fallen in love with you, at least in the beginning I wasn’t looking for this to get serious, as you know. But we did click from the start, you just… you just fucking do it for me, Y/N. Our bodies just call out to one another. You’re so responsive and you always know just what to do or say to me to make me lose my fucking mind. We’ve been together for so long… or should I say- I’ve been in love with you for so long, you’d say my desire would’ve dampened with time, or that sex would start to become monotonous eventually. I don’t think it’s that way at all. I feel like it just keeps growing somehow. I never get my fill with you. Feel like a fucking teenager with a loveboner dancing around your skirt all day long. You make me feel like that, no one else. Do you believe me, Y/N? Madly in love doesn’t even cut it. I worship you.”

You were lost for words. You’d been looking into eachother’s eyes this whole time and you couldn’t explain how this man had just made you go from crying, jealous, frustrated and feeling less than, to feeling like the luckiest woman to walk the earth. “I do believe you, Harry. You don’t have to keep explaining yourself. We’ve played like that before and I always took it well, in fact I love it when you get all condescending and mean and it gets me off embarrassingly quickly usually. I don’t know what it was… maybe you’re right, maybe it hit a little too close to home, but I do know you didn’t mean to. I wish I hadn’t had this reaction, but–”

“No, baby, don’t say that. Don’t try to take the blame in any way. I take full responsibility. I’m just glad you know it wasn’t true… I hope you do, hope you’re not just saying that.”

“I’m not, I swear I’m not. I do believe you. And I love you, too, and needless to say no one has ever compared to you, ever. Maybe I’m not as experienced as you… but I don’t have to be to know I’d have never found a better match than you.”

It was Harry’s turn to get teary eyed as he whispered, “you don’t know how much it means to me… that you didn’t– while we were apart; and I wish… I wish I could take it all back. Had I known I’d ever find you… or that you’d ever want anything to do to me ever again… I’d have never–”

“Shhh. It’s alright, baby. I don’t hold it against you. All of it is my fault– no, don’t interrupt me. It’s the one thing we can’t seem to agree upon. I just want it to be clear, once and for all. Us separating and all the heartache and misery we both went through was my own fault. Not yours. Not Emily’s. No one else’s but mine. I should’ve never left the way I did. That was… an inexcusable betrayal… I did it for what I considered to be the right reasons, lord knows I did it with the best intentions. Never meant to hurt you for one second. I really thought I was doing the right thing, I knew you’d never choose between us.

“So I took the decision for you. Which was a gross overstep. I crossed such a huge line, taking that decision for you, not even discussing it with you, abandoning you. I hurt both of us so much. I was so stupid. So… don’t talk to me about feeling guilty. I know what guilt feels like and it’s something I have to live with for the rest of my life. You did nothing wrong. Nothing. You did what you could to keep pushing, to give you at least a semblance of normalcy. I’d never hold it against you, I truly don’t, Harry. So please… don’t paint me into this hero for not having slept with anyone else while we were apart. It would have been torture for me had I done it. As I’m sure it was for you, and that’s why you did it, so you could punish yourself some more. Don’t think I don’t know that. I don’t pretend to understand what you went through fully… but just know I went through hell as well, at my own doing.

“I’m not even asking for your forgiveness. I could never dream of it. I’m so incredibly happy you gave us another chance… No one else would’ve. I still don’t know how you could do it. Still don’t know what I deserved to have you back in my life. So, all of this nonsense about people you’ve fucked in the past and what they were like? That’s so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. You love me, and god knows I love you, and that’s all there is to it. Nothing else matters.”

“It fucking tears me apart to hear you speak like that, Y/N. I’d go through it all again if it meant I could take away your own pain. I do forgive you, no matter how unworthy you may feel, you’re worth it to me. So worth it. Fucking love of my life. I’d go through hell and back for you. I’d have never stopped searching for you. Never. My life is barren without you. Nothing matters. Children or no children, married or not- all these things I try and contain myself about and not overwhelm you with… are just me being greedy and wanting more and more of you. I never want you to feel pressured in any way. I’m content just being here with you in my arms and looking into your beautiful eyes. It’s all I ever wanted. And it’s more than enough.”

“I know, baby. You’re not pressuring me. I want to make you happy. It’s all I want. That makes me the happiest. I’ll give you everything you want. And not from some place of feeling indebted to you… to make up for all the hurt and suffering I caused. I just want to make it clear, because I know you, and I know you might suspect that of me. No. I meant what I said earlier… I’m not exactly saying we should try for a baby… but maybe we shouldn’t be avoiding it at all costs, either. Let’s see where life takes us. We can handle it, right? We’ve proven as much. Just imagining you with a baby in your arms is getting my ovaries in a knot. Maybe we should listen to what our bodies are trying to tell us.”

Harry rested on his elbow, leaning over you. “You really mean it, baby? You’d want that, truly?”

You nodded slowly and Harry grinned the biggest smile you’d seen on his gorgeous face yet. It dawned on you then and there that he’d been really holding back on how much he truly wanted this. It was enough to erase any shred of doubt from your mind.

He proceeded to pepper your whole entire face in enthusiastic kisses, down your throat and all the way to the insides of your palms. He then pulled your back to his chest and cocooned you in the warmest embrace telling you over and over again how much he loved you and how happy you made him.

And just when you were on the verge of falling asleep, you heard him whisper in your ear, “I can’t wait to wife you up… my little love.”

Daddy issues- Masterlist

A/N: it's taken me a long time to get here ❤️ this is the truest version of my babies, good and bad, they're definitely not perfect but their love is ❤️ thank you for being so patient with me and for sticking with me along this beautiful journey. i'll keep writing check-ins for them, promise! any prompts are welcomed!

P.S.: 🍭 anon, this was supposed to be your much awaited balcony scene but i got... distracted. don't worry. it's gonna happen... eventually 😅

💕 like & reblog if you enjoyed this, lovelies, and most importantly, please come share your thoughts on it here 💌

🦋follow me on wattpad to get notified whenever i post something new/update!🦋

#harry styles smut #dilfrry #harry styles #dilf harry styles #dadrry #daddy harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles prompt #harry styles concept #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles reader insert #daddy issues #harry styles writing #harry styles fic

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jeankluv · 30 days

Text

Birdie | Satoru Gojo - Chapter 01

Words: 4.8k

Summary: You didn’t like him, at all. But due to your bad luck you would have to be forced to work with him and different circumstances end up leading you to the fact that perhaps the word dislike is not the one you use to describe him.

Note: divider art credit _3aem (twt)

Tags: modern au, college au, fem!reader, academic rivals, he fell first, fluff, old money Gojo Satoru, abusive parents, slight slow burn, Satoru is a softy, secondary couple (Geto Suguru x oc), a bit of angst, no use of y/n, eventual smut, Gojo plays basketball

Slow updates

Materialist | next chapter

Wattpad | ao3

While everyone adored him, you stood apart in your feelings. It wouldn't be accurate to say you hated him, as "hate" carried significant weight; rather, you harbored a profound dislike towards him. The problem was he knew that and his irritating presence seemed to persistently cling to you whenever he crossed your paths.

Now, you found yourself paired with him for your semester project, and the thought made you wish to hurl yourself out of the third-floor window. Three months of working alongside him loomed ahead. Adding to the discomfort, you were currently under the scrutiny of hundreds of eyes, each gaze feeling like a murder attempt. It seemed everyone coveted the opportunity to collaborate with Gojo Satoru, except for you.

“We will divide the project in two.” You said looking at the information the teacher gave you. “So we can work on it separately and once we are done we will put it together.” You didn’t like the idea but you disliked even more the idea of spending time outside the class with him.

“That wouldn’t work out, it’s better if we schedule a time to meet and we start working on it.” Gojo talked.

“No.” You said. “I’m way too busy to think about meeting outside of classes.” And it was true, you were working in two different jobs to pay the bills of college and the tiny apartment you were staying on.

“Oh c’mon!” He pouted. “It’s impossible that you are busy every day of the week at every hour.”

“Well I am.” You were starting to get angry, couldn’t he understand you didn’t want to meet with him.

The ring rang and you thanked it, it was time to leave for another class, one you wouldn’t have to see the perfect face of Satoru Gojo.

“Wait! How do we stay in contact?” Gojo spoke when you were about to leave the classroom. You could feel the gaze of a group of girl right on your neck.

“With the email.”

“C’mon.” He said your name. “Give me your number.”

“No and now leave me. I need to get to my class.”

You walked past the group of girls that were chatting obviously about the scene that just happened.

“How can she be so rude with Satoru?”

“Yeah who does she think she is? Does she even know who Satoru is?”

“She is such a loser.”

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. Of course, you were well aware of who he was - everyone knew him. A pampered child from a wealthy family, born into privilege and affluence, often referred to as an “old money baby”. He had everything handed to him on a silver platter - impeccable looks, tall, athletic, and intelligence. For many, he embodied the epitome of perfection. However, for you, he was nothing more than an insufferable jerk whom you couldn't stand.

On the flip side, you were the complete opposite of him. Life hadn't dealt you a fair hand - you struggled to make ends meet. When your mother passed away when you were just six, and your father vanished after hearing news of her pregnancy. Left with no one but your grandmother, you found solace in her loving care. However, as time marched on, you were once again confronted with loneliness when she passed away when you were just 16. With only a meager inheritance from your grandmother and the income from your job at a local store, you barely scraped by until the age of 18. Thankfully, your relentless dedication to your studies paid off when you earned a scholarship to attend the University of Tokyo.

Even though you got into a good college on the degree you wanted, your life in Tokyo hasn’t been quite easy. You were living in a tiny apartment, going to college and working two jobs because it would be impossible to make it to the end of the month with just one job. Luckily, the scholarship covered all my college expenses, but living in Tokyo wasn't exactly easy on the wallet. I found myself navigating life in the bustling city all on my own.

But your aversion towards Gojo Satoru began two years ago, on the first day of college. Rushing late after exhausting yourself at work, you collided with him, causing you to stumble to the ground. Prepared to offer an apology, you were met with his irate ranting, delivered without even a glance in your direction. Had you not been humiliated on the ground, you might have slapped some sense into him right then and there. Why was he so infuriated when he was clearly the one at fault? And the fact that he couldn't even look at you added insult to injury. Frustrated and embarrassed, you left before he could utter another word; you had no desire to hear anything further from him.

The true agony hit when you discovered he would be sharing classes with you. From then on, you made every effort to steer clear of him and his foolishness. However, it seemed everyone in your class, and even in other majors, adored him. The teachers showered him with praise because everything he touched turned to gold. Despite being at the university for two years, you had never managed to outperform his grades, and it infuriated you beyond measure.

For the past two years, you had been lucky enough to avoid partnering with him. However, it appeared that luck had finally abandoned you, and now you were destined to endure his company for the next three months.

You sat on the seat you would normally choose and took out the notebook to take notes of the next class.

“I heard you got assigned with Satoru Gojo in one of your classes.” You heard a voice next to you which made you jump.

“Kyoko… don’t scare me like that.” You cried while putting your hand on your chest trying to calm down. “How did you find out?”

“Well, everyone was talking about how a girl who got paired with the great Satoru Gojo was so rude to him and how she should be more grateful for this glorious opportunity.” You rolled your eyes.

“I might throw myself out of the window…” You leaned your head against the table and closed your eyes. “Three months Kyoko, three months.”

“I know…you know that you can talk to me if he does anything to bother you.”

“Thank you, you’re the best Kyoko.”

She smiled warmly at you, and together you turned your attention to the class. You had met Kyoko on the same day as your initial encounter with Gojo Satoru. Sitting together in one of the classes, an instant connection formed between you two, and from that moment onward, you were inseparable. Kyoko brought a brightness into your life like a ray of sunshine piercing through clouds. On the first Christmas when she discovered you would be spending it alone in your apartment, she whisked you away to her home, where you celebrated with her and her parents. Since then, Kyoko's parents had filled the void of the parents you had dearly missed, and Kyoko herself had become the sister you had always longed for.

The class was over before you knew it. Your hands hurt after taking notes non-stop and your head felt like it was about to explode after barely sleeping last night.

“Do you have time to eat with me? Or you have to go to the grocery store already?” Kyoko stood besides you while walking in the corridor.

“Today I can eat with you. My shift doesn’t start until 3 p.m. so it’s alright.”

Kyoko looked at you with concerned eyes. “Are you sure you are properly resting? You look tired and the grocery store job is okay, but I’m worried about you working on that bar at nights.”

You sighed, she was right the bar was an unpleasant place, most of those who went were men in their 40s or 50s who left their offices and spent the night drinking until they fell at the bar counter, while making obscene comments. But they paid well and the money was something I desperately needed.

You smiled at her. “I will be alright. Don’t worry.”

“You know you can always come to life with me, I know my parents wouldn’t bother taking you in. And if you feel like it would be too much, you could always pay something but then you could quit that crappy job and just work at the grocery store.”

“Kyoko… we already talked about it. I appreciate you and your parents' good heart and intentions but I can handle everything.” She nodded. “And I know I can always count on you.”

“Always.” And she held you from the arm. “Now let’s go and eat something. My treat.” You were about to protest when Kyoko cut you off. “No excuses, you deserve me to invite you especially because my poor best friend is going to have to put up with her least favorite person in the world for three months.”

“Ugh!” You rolled your eyes. “Please don’t remind me of that.”

Both of you laughed and made your way straight to the cafeteria, your stomachs growling with hunger. You had only managed to gulp down a coffee that morning to wake up, and now you were convinced you could devour the entire menu. Taking your usual seats at the table, Kyoko headed to order your food. The cafeteria buzzed with activity, students weaving in and out while conversations filled the air. You glanced at your phone, hoping for some notifications, but all you found were promotional emails from the supermarket.

Kyoko returned with the food, setting it down in front of you, and you delved into a conversation about Kyoko's recent date. It seemed the boy had shown a keen interest in her, but your friend hadn't felt the same way about him. Being the kind-hearted person she was, Kyoko struggled with how to gently let him know she wasn't interested in continuing to see him.

“Oh shit…” Kyoko whispered.

“What?”

“Don’t turn around but I think a certain someone is coming here.” Your eyebrow arched and you clenched your fists.

“Tell me that the certain someone doesn’t have white hair…” Kyoko grimaced and by the time you wanted to say something, the person responsible for your headache at that very moment had sat down next to you.

“Hello ladies!!” He talked with the happiest tone. He called your name but you ignored him, you didn’t want to interact with him, not even a bit. “I don’t think we know each other. I’m Satoru Gojo.” He talked to Kyoko.

“Kyoko. And we actually share a class together.”

“Oh! We do? Sorry I can’t remember it. But it is nice to meet you, Kyoko.”

“Satoru…” Another male voice spoke behind you. Your head was really going to explode.

“Oh Suguru! Come here!” He moved his hand, pointing at the seat next to Kyoko.

“Satoru… why don’t you leave the girls eating alone.” The boy of dark hair looked at his friend and then at both of you. “I'm sorry for bothering you.”

“It’s okay, don't worry.” Kyoko smiled back at him.

“Come on Suguru! Let’s eat with them… I need to spend more time with my classmate, right birdie?” You looked at him.

“Who are you calling birdie?” You were angry, why was he giving you nicknames like you have known each other for years or like you were close.

“Oh so now you pay attention to me…” He smirked and tilted his head as he rested it on his hand and looked at you.

You snorted and pushed the plate away. “Kyoko, I have to go or I'll be late.” You said goodbye to Gojo's friend, who you assumed was called Suguru, and ignored Gojo.

“Take care.” You heard Kyoko. “And sent me a message once you arrived home from the bar!” You gave her a thumbs up and left the cafeteria.

You felt uneasy. What was Gojo Satoru playing at, giving you a nickname? And that look he just gave you—what was that about? You couldn't stand it. Sinking into your seat on the bus, you put on your headphones, seeking a brief respite before reaching your workplace. You were scheduled to work for five hours, followed by a rush to the bar, where you'd likely be working until 2 a.m., if luck was on your side.

As your eyelids grew heavy, you recognized the familiar streets passing by. With just a few stops left until your destination, you stretched out in your seat and rubbed your eyes, trying to shake off the fatigue.

You got out of the bus and walked a few steps until you reached the small grocery store where you work. You still had 5 minutes left to work but between changing and preparing everything the time would arrive. You greeted Yu who was behind the counter serving a customer and went to the employee room at the back.

“You are early.” Haibara entered the room.

“I’m 5 minutes earlier… is not THAT early.” You smiled at him.

“You know you can always take the day off and rest. I can cover you if you need it, you look so tired.”

“I’m okay but thank you Haibara.”

“Okay! Then if you are taking my place I will get going. A friend of mine is waiting for me.” You nodded. “Call me if you need anything.”

You waved goodbye to him and observed as he rendezvoused with a tall blonde guy outside the store, someone you vaguely recognized from campus. Throughout the afternoon, several children trickled in to purchase trinkets, occasionally accompanied by adults picking up a few items. The day had been relatively quiet, affording you the opportunity to jot down some notes and review your studies.

As closing time approached, the sliding door chimed open once more, signaling the arrival of another customer. However, you were preoccupied assisting a lady who was meticulously counting the coins needed to pay for her purchase.

“Thank you so much darling.” She said once you were done with her. “Have a nice night.”

“Thanks to you! And please come here again.”

“Hello birdie!” Your mouth opened slightly when you saw who was waiting to be served and the last customer of the day.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” You screamed angrily.

He looked down and moved the bottle he was holding. “Buying something to drink.” He smiled, showing his perfect smile.

“Here?” He nodded. “In this grocery store?” He nodded again. “Of this unknown neighborhood?” He nodded once again. “Gojo…” You touched your head, closing your eyes. “I don’t know what you want or your intentions but don’t you dare bother me anymore.”

“I already told you birdie I’m here, to buy this.” He put the bottle in front of you.

“There you have it. Now, bye.” You turned around and started cleaning some things that were around. It was time to close and you needed to hurry up to got to the bar.

You picked up and changed into the clothes you had come in. For a moment you had to lean against the wall, for an hour or so you had been dizzy and nauseous, but you couldn't allow yourself to be absent. You turned off the lights and closed the grocery store.

“What are you still doing here?” You turned around to look at Gojo who was right in front of the shop.

He walked smiling towards you. “Waiting for you.”

You rolled your eyes, couldn’t he understand you or something. “Well, I don’t want you to be waiting for me. So now… BYE!” And you started moving towards the bar.

“Oh c’mon.” He said your name this time. “Let me accompany you to your house or at least near it. It’s not good for a girl to…”

“Are you a stalker?” Gojo opened his mouth. “And I’m not going home, I need to get to work and because of you I might be late.”

“Work? But you just get out of it.” He walked next to you. “Why would you have two works…”

“Listen Gojo! Not everyone is born on a silver spoon. Some of us have to work our asses out to get the things we want.” You were tired. “You are lucky your parents probably get you everything they want for you but not everyone is that lucky.”

“You’re pale. Are you okay?” You certainly weren’t, but you couldn't afford to be, you had to go to work. “Oh shit! You might have a fever.” His hand was on your forehead, wait when did he get that close?

“Leave me…” Everything was spinning around.

“Hey!” You felt how Gojo held you, preventing you from falling to the ground, and then everything went black.

You weren't certain how long you had been unconscious, but it was certainly for a considerable amount of time. As you blinked your eyes open, you found yourself surrounded by darkness, with only a faint glow of outside light seeping into the room. Despite the dimness, you were able to swiftly recognize your surroundings. You were in Kyoko's room, but how had you ended up there? The last memory you could recall was being with Gojo before blacking out.

“Kyoko?” You whispered. You were confused and still feeling sick.

You saw how a silhouette moved to grab something from the table and then a light from the cell phone illuminated the room.

Kyoko whispered your name. “How are you feeling?”

“Still dizzy…” You touched your head. “How did I get here?”

“Satoru called me.” You looked at her confused, since when she called him Satoru and since when did she have his number. “Don’t look at me like that, when you left I stayed with him and with his friend, Suguru and they are pretty nice guys.” You rolled your eyes. “And his friend is pretty cute.”

“Kyoko…”

“What? It’s true, he was so polite and nice and did you know he studies…”

“Do you like him?”

“I mean… it’s early to say that but I would love to go out with him sometime.” Your friend smiled.

“You remember that there is a guy still waiting for an answer from you right?”

Kyoko pouted. “I know… I will let him know I’m not interested, because it’s true I’m not.”

“Good…”

“But now to what is important.” Oh here it came. “What would you have done if Satoru wasn’t there when you fainted?”

“I… it was just a coincidence. I was totally find this morning.”

Kyoko said your name heavily. “How much have you slept this week? And be honest with me.”

You thought for a moment. “5 hours…”

“That’s not bad, I thought you were going to say something like 2 hours.”

“In the last 3 days…”

Kyoko opened her mouth, letting a gasp out. “Are you insane? You want to die or something?”

“Sorry! But college and the jobs… the jobs, my shift on the bar…”

“Relax. I called them and told them you were sick after Satoru called me.” You breathed in relief. “But don’t try to change the topic. 5 hours in 3 days?! That’s inhuman and you can’t keep going like this.”

“And what do I do Kyoko?” You pulled the sheets up to your face.

“Stay here… we have a spare room, you can stay there.” You growled, Kyoko knew that was too much. Even if you were her best friend, you were still someone from outside the family. “You can pay a minimum if that will make you feel better, but if you stay here you wouldn’t have to pay the rent you are paying right now and you wouldn’t have to work at that shitty bar.”

“I… I will think about it okay…” Kyoko nodded.

“Now go back to sleep.”

“Okay…” You closed your eyes.

“And by the way.” Kyoko spoke again. “Start thinking what you are going to say to Satoru, you throw up on him.”

“I… WHAT?” Your eyes opened like plates.

“Good night~”

“No Kyoko, tell me! What do you mean I threw up on Gojo?” You cried.

“Go to sleep.”

You groaned, feeling utterly mortified at the thought of having thrown up on Gojo. This was beyond embarrassing—how were you supposed to face him and apologize for such a humiliating incident? The desire to vanish into thin air consumed you. Your head spun with the aftermath of the situation, and before you knew it, you had drifted off to sleep.

Upon waking up again, you sensed that several hours had passed; sunlight now flooded through the window, illuminating the room entirely. Kyoko was nowhere to be seen, and you sat up in bed, stretching your stiff body. You felt utterly filthy after experiencing fever and vomiting; a shower was desperately needed.

Searching for your phone to check the time, you discovered several messages awaiting your attention—some from Kyoko and others from an unknown number.

Kyoko ☀️

Rest as much as you want. My mom left you food prepared in the kitchen but you will be alone for most of the day.

You can take my clothes if you want.

And don’t worry about the classes I will take the notes for you.

And by the way, I’m sorry and I love you 😘

Sorry? For what? You tapped on the unknown number and then you understood why she was sorry.

xxxx

Hellooooo birdie !!

Kyoko gave me your number, don’t get angry at her.

I hope you feel better soon

You clenched your fists and sighed, now you would have to endure it because of your cell phone too.

You to Kyoko ☀️

You should be grateful I love you so much and I won’t kill you.

And thanks, I will be taking a shower and do you mind if I take one of your pajamas?

Kyoko ☀️

Everything that’s mine is yours 😘

You rolled your eyes at your friend. And opened once again the chat of Gojo. How should you respond to him? Should you apologize for throwing up at him? Should you just be as cold as always? The guy was messaging you after you fainted and threw up on him, he didn’t deserve to be treated coldly although you wanted to.

You to Pain in the ass

Hi. I’m good

Thanks for yesterday and sorry for what happened…

Also stop calling me birdie, people would think we are close or something

Leaving your phone on the table, you grabbed one of Kyoko's pajamas and made your way to the bathroom. Compared to a few hours ago, you felt significantly better; the fever seemed to have subsided or at least diminished in intensity. After a refreshing shower, you changed into the pajamas and headed to the kitchen.

True to Kyoko's word, her mother had left a plate of food prepared for you. Grateful for the gesture, you sat down to enjoy the meal. Retrieving your phone once more, you noticed two notifications, which came as a surprise—they were not the usual supermarket offers.

Pain in the ass

Don’t worry about it, I’m glad to hear you are okay

*This message was deleted*

What did he send and delete after?

Pain in the ass

Since you are sick we decided to accompany Kyoko for lunch!

And there was a picture of Kyoko with Gojo and two other people, the guy from yesterday, Suguru and another girl you didn’t know about. Kyoko was smiling and doing the peace sign next to Suguru, while Gojo was the one taking the selfie and showing off his perfect teeth.

You to Pain in the ass

You better treat Kyoko right, or you will hear from me once I’m back at class.

It was hard to believe you were talking so casually with him. You shook your head, talking like that on the phone was just a way of being polite with him, nothing else.

Pain in the ass

If that way I get you to talk to me

You stayed looking at the message for a couple of minutes. Something on your stomach was moving. Stupid Satoru Gojo.

You to Pain in the ass

By the way, do I need to pay you something… for you know…

Pain in the ass

For what?

You to Pain in the ass

Don’t make me say it, it’s way too embarrassing.

Pain in the ass

If you don’t tell me what I won’t know 🤷

You to Pain in the ass

Throwing up on you!

Do I need to pay for something? Like dry cleaning or something?

Pain in the ass

Hehe

You wanted to punch him, he obviously knew.

Pain in the ass

Nop, you don’t need to pay anything. Don’t worry 😉

You to Pain in the ass

Okay, now I will leave to sleep

Don’t bother me Gojo!

Pain in the ass

Alright birdie!!

Rest well. I don’t want you throwing up and fainting in the arms of other people

You to Pain in the ass

Say something like that again and I’m blocking you

Pain in the ass

🥺

You rolled your eyes and left the phone once again. He really was a pain in the ass. You went to Kyoko’s room and lay down on her bed, although you were feeling better, you were still feeling tired, so you decided to sleep for a bit more, at least until Kyoko returned home.

You heard a door close and someone walk down the hall in silence. You knew it was Kyoko when she entered the room. She walked up to you and you smiled at her when your eyes met.

“You look better.”

“I feel better.” You say stretching on yourself. “I feel like I have slept everything I haven’t slept in a month.” You looked at Kyoko and she was doing a grimace of disgust. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Have you thought about it? About moving here?”

You did. You thought about it a lot, but you couldn't deny that you were at a point where if you continued at that pace you would end up killing yourself.

“I will.” Kyoko screamed with happiness. “But only if your parents are okay with it.”

“And they are! Don’t worry.” She started clapping and jumped out of bed with happiness. “By the way, I’m surprised you met Satoru yesterday at the grocery store.”

You looked at her strangely. “Didn't you tell her where she worked?” Kyoko shook her head.

And then it hit you, you haven't told Haibara that you would not be going to work today, he would probably be covering for you and you would have to tell him.

“Shit… Where is my phone?” You looked around.

“Who is Pain in the ass?” Kyoko hang you the phone.

“It’s Gojo…” She nodded while you searched for the number of Haibara on your phone. “Haibara!” You said when you heard him picking up. “Yeah it’s me… I’m so sorry, I’m sick and I couldn’t go today… I hope you-” Kyoko looked at you when felt silent. “What do you mean you already knew? Who told you?” Kyoko watched you with interest trying something of what was said on the other end of the phone. “Oh… okay. I will thank him then… Yeah. Bye.” And you throw the phone to the side.

“What’s with that face?”

“Gojo Satoru told my coworker I was sick.”

“That’s pretty considerate.”

“They are friends…”

“Who?”

“My coworker and Gojo, that’s why he appeared there.” You realized. “Probably Haibara told him and he came to bother.”

Kyoko called your name and you looked at her. “I don’t think he went to bother you…”

“Well… but it’s strange he went all the way to that place! Why would he go if it wasn’t to bother me?”

Your best friend sighed and closed her eyes, whispering something you could not hear and then looked back at you. “Thanks he was there. Or who knows what would have happened to you.”

You rolled your eyes. “You are right. And I already thanked him.”

“Oh you did?”

“Don’t act surprised when you were the one that gave him my number.”

She put her hands in the air and smiled. “Sorry. But he was really, REALLY insistent…”

“I can imagine.”

“He sent you a message right? What did he say?”

You took the phone and unlocked it to see the message that Gojo sent you.

Pain in the ass

I'll save you place next to me in class for tomorrow 🙆

What’s up with him?

“Oh…” Kyoko smiled next to you.

“What?”

“Nothing… figure it out yourself baby.” She smiled.

“Kyoko… Kyoko, what did that oh ment, come back here.” You followed her through the corridor while she laughed.

“No.” She continued laughing. “Oh!” She stopped walking and turned to look at you. “I already sent a message to the guy.”

“Finally.”

“Yeah…”

“You? Are you really going to try and go out with Gojo’s friend?”

She shrugged and smiled. The fact that Kyoko started dating Gojo's friend didn't particularly bother you, but it did mean potentially spending even more time with Gojo than you had anticipated. The mere thought made your head ache again. However, before dealing with that, you needed to figure out how to face Satoru Gojo tomorrow. It would mark the first encounter since... that incident.

Note: a comment and a like would be appreciated. Also comment to be tagged in the chapters

Tag list: @crybabytoru, @sanriosatoru, @norvacaine, @sadmonke

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