⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅"Never the inspiration"⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Synopsis: "She can handle herself" - something you've always heard while growing up as the eldest. Be it academics or life in general, you handled everything alone. But what happens when a certain blue-eyed nerd suddenly enters your life and threatens to ruin the perfect image you've sculpted of yourself? Will he become the reason for your downfall? Or will you finally learn love?
A nerd!satoru gojo x burnedout!reader fic
Content: nerd!satoru, burned-out!reader, angst, comfort, found family, comparisons, academic rivals to lovers trope, readers parents are d!ckheads, pet names (love, darling, etc), reader forgets to eat sometimes, family pressure, reader loves trying new hobbies, reader is thin, skinny shaming, happily ever after.
Blue header by @/cafekitsune
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ Chapter 1 ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
2:04 am - you keep staring at the numbers, as if looking at them long enough will make them disappear, but they do nothing except worsen the headache that was already digging through your brain. People say 1 more episode before going to sleep, but here you are, whispering 1 more chapter. It's not like you didn't study - you did. You had also finished revising 2 times now, but that anxious feeling of not doing well in the exam clawed up your throat like bile threatening to come out, the more you try to swallow it back down. All you knew was that you had to score better. Better than Satoru Gojo.
You don't know how that guy did it. Scoring a full score each time and acting like it didn't matter at all. It did. Well, at least to you it did. Being in a household built on expectations does that to you. Well, whatever, now was not the time to be thinking about all of this. Eyes dropping heavily, you allow your head to rest on the table, "just 5 minutes," you whisper as you close your eyes to finally fall asleep (though you do go a little crazy in the morning when you wake up to realise you had fallen asleep).
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
You reach college an hour earlier to cram in some more points before the exam, but lo and behold, he’s there. He’s always there. Sometimes you think he might be stalking you.. Or maybe it's the other way around? Whatever, it didn't matter. You had an exam to worry about. Walking towards a table near the window, you place your bag on a chair beside you and sit down. Placing your book on the table, you see a flash of white cross you.
“Good morning, my dear nemesis! Looks like you didn’t finish studying, huh?” Looking up, you see his grin. It was honestly not fair how his face was so pretty yet so punchable at the same time. “Let me study, Satoru.” You scowl. “Oh, but where’s the fun in that? I can’t leave you sitting alone now, can I?” God knows how much you wanted to slap that smug smile off his face. “Do you have nothing better to do other than shove your face in my personal space?” You pressed. “I do, but teasing you will always be my priority, pretty.” He whispers and adds “Don’t end up depressed when I beat you in the exam, ok?” You can only glare at him as he walks away, sliding his glasses up his nose.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
You think the exam went well; the questions were the ones you had revised a few times. The only thing left was to pray to God that you beat Satoru, or you really don’t wanna know what your dad might do. Throwing your bag over your shoulder, you try to leave your class, but of course, someone has to block your way. "What is it?" You enquire. "Oh, nothing, just wanted to walk with you. Why, is that a problem?" Satoru replies. "Just..ok, fine."
Walking side by side with Satoru Gojo shouldn't really be a problem. And it wouldn't be if you weren't thinking about the exam. Noticing your anxious face, he doesn't really understand at first. "Is she uncomfortable because of me?" Was the thought that was going around his head. Trying to make you feel better, he asks, "Wanna get ice cream?" And you can only stare at him. How was he so chill after the exam? Wasn't he nervous about how he had written? That was one strange habit you knew he had. "Not in the mood." Saying this you cross the road to your building, leaving Satoru at the crosswalk on the other side.
Trying to ignore his heavy stare, you walk inside and knock on your door, hoping not to see your dad. Sounds bad, but it's better that way. The house stays quiet that way. Of course, but as if the universe hates you, the person who opens the door is none other than your dad. "Shit Shit Shit" the same word keeps circling your brain.
"How did you write the exam?"
"Good. The questions were easy." You murmur, trying to hurry into your room to avoid talking to him.
"Do you have something important to get to?" He asks.
"No, why?" You ask, confused.
"Then why the hurry? Sit down. Let's talk."
You freeze. "Talk? Well, I'm dead." You walk back to the couch, which normally isn't a big task, but now? Right now you just feel like you're walking onto a battlefield. Like the calm before a storm. Placing your bag on the table, you sit at the corner and your dad sits opposite to you.
"How are your classes going?" He inquires.
"Good. I can understand everything." You lay your palms flat on your thighs to stop your hands from shaking and try to wipe off the sweat that has already started forming.
"Is it? You can understand everything? Weird because I thought if someone can understand everything, they should be at the top of their class, no?"
"Ahh there it is. There's the 'talk'."
Swallowing your unease, you reply, "Well, I'm trying my best and—"
"AND IT'S NOT ENOUGH!" Flinching, you take deep breaths, trying to calm your heart down. Your dad sighs and closes his eyes, his hand massaging his forehead. "I'm only saying this for your sake, not mine. I expect you to get the top score this time, understand?" You nod your head. "Go study."
Scrambling to pick up your bag, you make a bee line towards your room and close the door. Dropping it on the bed, you sit on the floor, your back touching the bed, as you try to calm your nerves. Years of listening to him shout and it still shook you to the core as if you were still the scared little girl trying to hide from him in your room.
Your phone vibrates in your pocket, which you ignore but that doesn't stop the vibration. Frustrated, you check and see Satoru texting you. "Oh look another man to mock me."
Rolling your eyes, you open his chat.
Satoru: Hey
Satoru: heyyyyyyyy
Satoru: what are you even doing right now that's oh so important than replying to my texts?? :(
Taking a deep breath (so you don't chuck the phone out the window because you seriously cannot afford a new one), you reply:
You: what is it?
Satoru: there you are! I was starting to get worried that you hated me or something lol
You: ..I do hate you Satoru..
Satoru: oh come you know you love me! ;)
Satoru: Anyways you good? You looked sad when you ditched me while I was so graciously walking you home >:(
You: I'm fine Satoru and it's none of your business anyway.
You: if you're done with your jokes, I'm gonna go sleep now.
Satoru: you're no fun :(
Satoru: fine.. good night, dream about me ;)
You: good night
Staring at the blank phone screen, you realize you feel a little better. That's what happens though sometimes. Satoru calms your nerves down when you aren't fighting with him about your grades. He's not that bad you think.
Tossing your phone on the side table, you get up and head towards the washroom to freshen up before going to sleep because you seriously had zero appetite for dinner.
After freshening up and slipping into your pajamas, exhaustion finally creeps into your bones and settles down, your shoulders lowering themselves as if they were carrying the weight of the world. You jump face first on your bed and exhale a deep breath you hadn't even noticed you were holding as you close your eyes, calming yourself down from the ride you experienced today. You almost fall asleep, almost when you hear a knock on your door. Your mom opens it wide, the light from the hallway illuminating your room for a few seconds before she steps inside, closes the door, and switches on the light in your room.
"Won't you have any dinner?"
"I'm not hungry." You reply, your voice hoarse and your throat feeling scratchy. "Forgot to drink water." It's a habit of yours. 'Forgetting' to drink water for hours until the end.
"What do you mean 'you're not hungry'? Have you seen your face? You look like a ghost with those hollow cheeks and, 'you're not hungry'?"
"Mom, please, I have a headache, I don't feel like eating." You plead, trying to get your mom to leave you alone, but alas.
"Why do you think you have a headache, huh? Whatever, don't listen to me. Just like your damn dad." She mutters under her breath before leaving.
You stare at her back, your unshed tears shining bright, just like the moon high up in the sky. Breathing shakingly, you ignore the dull ache in your heart as you get up, switch off the lights, close the door, and finally plop on your bed, trying not to bawl your eyes out. It's not fair how much you've done for her and still hearing her say those words as if they didn't pierce your heart every time she called you 'your father's daughter'.
"You look just like your father."
A sentence that is supposed to be wholesome but for you? A threat. Something you hate. All your life, you've tried your level best to be the good, obedient little daughter that your parents can brag about to others, but really you were just trying to be better. Better than him.
But all you heard from your parents, from your mom, growing up was, "You're the angry daughter."
Why?
Because I spent my entire childhood tiptoeing around the moods of people who should've protected me? Because I learned to read the room before I learned to read books? Because I swallowed my words so they wouldn't explode in theirs? Because silence was safer than asking for what I needed? Because I carried their chaos like it was mine to fix? And now my anger isn't shame— It's proof that I finally stopped making myself small.
You press your palms against your eyes to try and block out the noises in your head, which only get worse with each passing day. Picking up your phone, you try to distract yourself by playing some game. It's a detective kind— where a girl is missing and you have to find her before she ends up dead. It takes your mind off of everything that has happened, and your eyes start dropping. You place your phone on the side table and pull the blanket closer to your head and hug yourself. A habit you developed to comfort yourself when you were barely a teen. You try to think of better things—imagining scenarios of a kinder world— and your breath evens out as you finally fall asleep. The moonlight spills into your room, draping over your head— as if trying to soothe your restless mind.
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