❝ PROFESSIONAL BASKETBALL PLAYER!GOJO SATORU X PHYSICAL THERAPIST!READER. ❞
SYNOPSIS: After an unexpected encounter with the infamous Gojo Satoru at a local convenience store at 3 A.M. You're given the opportunity to worm your way into his life, but not without a personal invitation from Gojo himself. One thing leads to another, and you're the first person they call when he gets a career-threatening injury, forcing both of you to spend day and night together, but without some obstacles of course: your cousin.
WORD COUNT : 7K
SERIES MASTERLIST : ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .
Note: Buckle up. I am sorry in advance.
Pt. 1
Before transitioning from elementary to middle school, your dad took you to your first basketball game.
He had just been hired to coach basketball at a nearby high school. Even though your family wasn’t religious it was a catholic based high school. To your father, a job was a job.
Those were the happiest years of your life. Your dad would pick you up after school, and take you straight from school to his basketball practices. There you sat on the bleachers to do your homework, oftentimes you’d find yourself drifting off to the players on the court. Their hyper-ness always proved to be a distraction for you. A welcome one.
Back then family time was often spent almost every single Friday at a basketball game your father coached. You grew up in a loving home. Your parents were madly in love. Although money didn’t come easy, it never once caused a rift between your family. If anything, it brought you closer. But that didn’t mean you liked a perfect life. Your mother was diagnosed with cancer for a long period during your childhood, and as a result, your father turned to alcoholism to deal with it.
He never came home drunk, but you knew it from the stench of his clothes. It was the little things that hinted at your parents’ ruining. The discarded long pieces of hair on the sink, to your mother's fragile body lying in bed, unable to lift a finger.
You had taken it upon yourself to try and sell some sort of anything, to help your parents. At first, it was hand-made creations from cheap bead jewelry, and art, to duct tape wallets. Then it became services like lawn mowing, babysitting, or dog walking.
You were still barely a teenager thus why people didn’t trust you beyond a lemonade stand.
Your dad had found out about your ‘secret’ jobs and came to the realization that burdening you was far from what they wanted to achieve. Life had become a rough patch, but it didn’t mean life was over. Far from it. At the start of your freshman year, your father had signed himself up for rehab, and before you were off to college your mother was declared cancer-free.
It took you all of high school to finally figure out that you wanted to involve yourself in a profession that surrounded basketball. While you didn’t know right away you wanted to be a physical therapist for a professional basketball team, you knew you wanted to be involved someway, somehow.
You’d do anything for a permanent spot on a basketball team as a physical therapist. So you signed up as manager for your school basketball team and got the position. Safe to say that no one else had the opportunity to become manager for the next four years.
Your cousin was an entirely different case. She grew up in a broken home. One that never got fixed. Since she was younger than you, you were often tasked to take care of her. Always putting her before you. Whether it was canceling plans with your friends to be able to take her somewhere, or inviting her to tag along. Which often resulted in her managing to get you all in trouble with some authority.
She was a troublemaker at heart, and unlike you, she didn’t know what she wanted in life. Her father abandoned her at a young age, and her mother would often disappear mysteriously for weeks on end, leaving her to your parents and you.
You worried for her, and her newfound relationship. Gojo’s reputation with women extends for miles. Every one of them ended with a nasty paparazzi headline. You hope that’s not her fate. She may not be your favorite person, but she was still your cousin.
Which is why right now, you find it difficult to say no, amidst a therapy session with your current client.
How could you? It was an invitation to a party in celebration of their newfound relationship. While it’ll kill you to idly stand by, you couldn’t stay bitter. The chances of Gojo Satoru and you were slim to none from the beginning. Your getting your hopes up was an unfortunate outcome of a conversation.
Torn between curiosity and the subtle pangs of unrequited affection, you hesitated before ultimately deciding to attend.
Unlike the first party, this one resonated high above the bustling streets below, atop a sleek skyscraper, lies the setting for tonight's affair—an exclusive penthouse outdoor pool party, overlooking the entire night city. Guests lounge on oversized outdoor chairs scattered around the pool area, sipping cocktails crafted by a skilled mixologist stationed at the bar at the balcony's edge. The atmosphere is relaxed yet vibrant, with a gentle breeze carrying laughter and animated conversation. Though the pool is the main event, no one dares jump in.
Despite the cheerful ambiance, an underlying sense of unease gnawed at you.
“You made it!” A chortle-like noise escapes your lips when a sudden warmth from behind envelops you. You recognize the voice to be your cousin. As her face comes into view you can’t help it when her contagious happiness transfers to you. A small genuine smile settles on your lips.
“Of course I did! What? It’s been like three months? I wouldn’t miss your party for the world.” You admit, hugging her tightly against you.
She rolls her eyes playfully dismissing you, “It has! But I’ve been busy trying to convince Gojo about a few things.” She pouts. Her admission raises a few warning flags in your mind, and before you can stop yourself you’re asking her, “Why? Is everything okay?”
Her mood changes again before you can blink, “Oh nothing, just want to start a family, and get married.” You choke on your drink, startling your cousin with a coughing fit. You wave your arm dismissively, putting your hand on your chest in a calming manner. She takes it as her queue to continue.
“But he keeps dismissing it. He says it’s ‘too soon’, or ‘he wants to take it slow’. It’s annoying.” You look at her in disbelief. “Well, you need to be considerate of his feelings. It’s his relationship too. If he doesn’t want to yet. Then you should respect that.” You preach to her, attempting to knock some sense into her, but by the time you look at her, she’s on her phone again. You release a sigh before walking towards the balcony railing, and away from her.
How does he handle her?
As you make your way to your destination you bump into a few of Gojo’s friends who greet you warmly, remembering you from the previous party as they introduced themselves to you for the sake of conversation. Once you reach the edge of the balcony.
You calmly sip on your drink before the real party starts, and something tells you a big announcement is coming. Until then, you’ll let the nerves eat you alive.
“Nice seeing you again,” You slightly freeze, gently startled by the unexpected presence. The voice is smooth and deep, resonating with a calm that seems to ripple through the air like a gentle breeze. It's the kind of voice that carries an unspoken weight, as though every word is carefully chosen.
You turn to see the Jujutsu Sorcerers’ point guard. Geto Suguru. Your subtle frown then turns into a full-blown smile once you both exchange greetings. You begin chatting away with Geto. Though his calming demeanor intimidates you, you never outwardly lose your ability to speak to him. It surprises you how easy conversing with him is.
You both lean side by side against the balcony railing.
“I heard you’re a physical therapist. That’s pretty cool,” he compliments, and his unwavering gaze never leaves yours. You almost have to remind yourself where you are, watching as a certain gust of wind blows stray strands of hairs onto his face.
You decide to answer with a teasing remark, “How’d you know? Gojo can’t keep his mouth shut?” You gently probe.
He laughs at your unexpected jab, and it sends a tingle down your spine at how deep it is. He takes a sip of his drink before continuing, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “Very funny. Because you’re right. He can’t. In fact, he couldn’t shut up about you when you first—” And as if something that wasn’t supposed to slip out, slipped out. His eyes go wide, and his mouth immediately clamps shut.
You raise a skeptical brow at his almost admission, and you try to step in his direction as his eyes are attempting to avoid your eyes. “Finish that sentence,” You demand.
His eyes zero in on you again before he presses his index finger against his lips, signaling silence, then swiftly slides his fingers across his mouth, mimicking the motion of a zipper. A silent vow of secrecy, and a promise to keep quiet. Your jaw drops at his audacity, and his eyes tingle in a playful menacing manner. Almost like he planned his ‘little’ slip up, and the consequences of what it’ll bring to your peace of mind.
You begin to walk away from him, but not before glancing back to catch a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he playfully slightly sticks out his tongue with a scrunch in his eyebrows. Geto finishes off with a subtle tilt of his head and a sassy smirk dancing on his lips. You return the playful gesture, wordlessly communicating a shared moment of light-heartedness.
Another genuine smile gently graces your lips for the second time that night.
As the night progressed, the atmosphere subtly shifted, drawing everyone's attention to the small stage placed at the end of the pool. It was then that Gojo stepped forward, a slightly nervous yet determined gleam in his eyes. If you didn’t know Gojo outside of the court you’d think he’s confidently standing up there, but if you know Gojo like a best friend would, you’d realize he’s slightly anxious.
Fortunately for you, as a physical therapist, reading the body language of others is part of your job description.
Your eyes lock, and you find it almost hilarious how far away you both are from one another. Almost like a metaphor for something. You give him an encouraging thumbs up with an intended awkward smile, and the mic he holds to his chest catches his small huff of laughter.
From an intentional awkward smile, grows a small ghost smile that shyly tugs at the corner of your lips.
Your bubble quickly bursts when you remind yourself: He is not yours. And the smile that almost threatened to burst, slips right off.
Gojo watches you intently from the stage as he sees you fight an internal battle. Wondering what conflict could possibly be bothering you. He decides to focus on the task at hand, so he continues with his speech.
“Can I have the attention of everyone?” The music comes to a soothing halt before Gojo directs his eyes to an older woman who scarily resembles him. Though you can’t study her up close and personal, it is difficult to brush their similarities under the rug with how prominent and rare the Gojo genes seem to be.
He clears his throat again and continues, “First, I want to thank everybody for helping me celebrate being voted to represent at the All-Star game, coming up.” A few cheers and hollers are shouted from around you before the crowd erupts in synchronized cheers. “Five years in a row!” Geto shouts individually from behind you before one of his friends gently shoves him in a joking manner.
“Security!” Gojo says jokingly pointing at Geto before giggling to himself for his lame joke. Thankfully the crowd laughs too. “No, I’m kidding.” He pauses to gather himself to take on a more serious tone, “I have a lot to be celebrating about. Amazing friends,” He starts, but not without Geto muttering to himself, “Damn right.” You gently elbow him, and he makes a dramatized pained noise.
“The best mom,” he continues, looking at his mom with a sweet smile. At the mention of Mrs. Gojo, Geto sobers up immediately. “And the icing on the cake,” you freeze when Gojo’s eyes shift to you, and suddenly you feel a few eyes on you, “Thanks to a late night encounter at 3 A.M. at a convenience store.” Your heart flutters wildly in your chest before it bursts, and deflates to the pits of your stomach.
“I got to meet a wonderful woman.” The grip on your drink tightens, and you swear it might burst when the next words leave Gojo’s mouth. “And with so many of my good friends here tonight, I thought what better moment to ask my girlfriend, to take it a step further…”
Your cousin’s eyes widened in surprise as Gojo stepped forward, dropping down to one knee, his hand outstretched towards her, urging her to join him on stage. Suddenly then, Gojo reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a red velvet box.
A gasp threatened to release.
You watch as Gojo drops down to one knee, calling out to her, his voice soft yet a bit hesitant, "Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”
A collective gasp filled the air as her cheeks flushed with emotion, her hand delicately placed on her chest in faux sentiment. Tears glistened in her eyes as she nodded, unable to find her voice amidst the overwhelming rush of ‘feelings’.
You stand idly and watch the scene unfold before you, and you can’t help but notice Gojo’s mom shaking her head in disapproval, squeezing the shoulder of a moody-looking pre-teen. Though surprisingly you feel nothing towards the ordeal.
Geto scoffs behind you, shaking his head with a click of his tongue.
An unsettling feeling filters in your chest at the sight of three people, who are most important to Gojo, not celebrating the beginning of an important chapter of his life. His mom, Geto, and the mysterious moody pre-teen. You wonder if he’d told them of his plan to ask her to move in with him, but by the looks of it, the answer is clear as day.
Gojo’s chatting away animatedly when he feels a hand rest gently on his shoulder, capturing his attention. He turns with a smile at the sight of his mother, and Megumi, but it falters at the sight of their serious expressions. His mother’s expression was more surprising than Megumi’s, considering the boy’s usual resting face.
“Son, we need to have a conversation…” She trails off, looking into his eyes with the most sincere expression she can muster, “Don’t you think you’re going too fast?” She questions, concern etched on her features. “I mean, you’ve only known her for a little while,” a knowing look then morphs into her features, and he groans at the look on his face.
He figured she wouldn’t approve, considering how she hadn’t been fond of her presence in Gojo’s life. She has more to say but decides to keep the rest to herself for when the time is right. Her son has always been stubborn after all, though a momma’s boy at heart.
He then smiles at her, “Come on,” he convinces, “I just think it’s time I settle down.”
“You ‘think’?” She chastisingly questions him before pausing to continue, ‘Toru…Do you want to settle down or are you pressuring yourself to?” A meaningful look now rests on her features.
When she notices he doesn’t have an answer to her question she can only purse her lips at the recklessness of her son. She’s never seen him so conflicted yet assured. Oftentimes she’d find him easy to read–he was her son after all–but now he’s more guarded around her. She’s not sure how this will end, and it worries her.
The silence that envelops them is deafening, but Megumi finally decides to make his presence known by clearing his throat, “You know…” he starts meaningfully, “She’s kind of a bitch,” he finishes off before walking away. Leaving behind an alarmed Gojo.
Gojo can’t help the uncertain feeling that rests on his chest.
“We welcome you to the Shibuya Stadium tonight as we kick off the start of our All-Star Game,” The announcers commence, “We are just moments away from watching, what could potentially be, a groundbreaking game.”
You navigated through the bustling crowd toward Shoko, occasionally murmuring ‘excuse me’s’ while at the same time attempting to balance a tray of drinks down the stairs, towards the floor seats. You carefully weaved through the people standing, before reaching Shoko. She quickly breaks her attention away from the players warming up on the court, when she hears you call out to her for help.
“Sorry, let me help you with that” she mutters gently before grabbing her drink from you, and a sigh of relief leaves your lips at her help when the impending cramp that had begun developing fades away.
Your cousin frowns when you don’t offer her a drink, but quickly gets over it when you remind her that she didn’t ask for anything.
“Whatever,” she dismisses, and you roll your eyes at her attitude.
Your cousin had called you tonight to invite you to one of Gojo’s basketball games, and though it was on such short notice, you could never decline a basketball game. Let alone a free one with floor seats. Your heart had warmed when she had told you she wanted you to be there, but then it chilled when she confessed two of her friends had bailed on her (typical), leaving her alone with Gojo’s ‘crazy’ mom—as she would say—.
You doubt his mom was crazy, but you chose to keep that thought to herself. Because there’s no reasoning when it comes to your cousin.
After the ‘engagement,’ things returned to normal. If you thought you saw your cousin less when she started dating Gojo, now you don’t see her at all. You’re not sure whether to feel delighted or dishearted at how easily she had erased you from her life.
“Hello,” a woman greets—Gojo’s mother you assume, remembering her from the party—, extending her hand out to you with an outstretched smile resting on her lips. You return the smile twice as big.
“Hi,” you counter cheerfully as you take her hand, “nice to meet you,” and she gestures to the boy sitting beside her. After telling her you were the cousin of Gojo’s fiance, a look of surprise briefly crosses her eyes just as quickly as it came.“This is Megumi,” she introduces. He grumbles a quick greeting before crossing his arms and shifting away from everyone. You smile at him anyway.
Before Gojo’s mom can scold him, you politely wave her off, “It’s okay, I used to babysit moody children all the time when I was in college, they usually have a soft spot buried underneath all that,” you assure, briefly placing a palm on your chest to indicate the heart.
She laughs, nodding away in agreement, “I like you.”
The admission somehow means a lot to you. You weren’t a people pleaser in way, shape, or form, but it’s nice to know when people find you delightful. Especially elderly people.
“Tonight, we have some noticeable faces on the court,” the announcer sparks up once again when the crowd cheers as Gojo and Geto successfully carry out their signature practiced rebound. “We have the outstanding point guard of the Jujutsu Sorcerers, Geto Suguro. And the center, Kento Nanami. But the majority of the people in this stadium tonight, want to see, what could be, the best player of our generation, Gojo Satoru.”
The game continues on for an hour, with the Jujutsu Sorcerers in the lead by 15 points, when suddenly the crowd collectively stands as Gojo makes a 3-pointer. You high-five Gojo’s mom out of excitement, and even Megumi manages to crack a smile.
Amid his teammate’s free throw, Gojo’s eyes trail off to the stands in search of someone, and his eyes slightly widen in surprise at the sight of you. He subtly waves at you with a harmless crack of a smile, and you raise an unamused eyebrow. He responds with an animated frown in a comical attempt to get you to laugh.
You fail to stifle a grin as you turn your face away towards the person next to you and find Shoko staring intently at the interaction with a raised eyebrow. At the reminder of Gojo’s relationship the sweet moment shatters, and you don’t look at him directly for the remainder of the game.
As the players dribbled down the court the anticipation was high as five minutes remained left in the fourth quarter. Unsurprisingly Gojo had been dominating the court tonight.
Amid the game's intensity, a sudden collision sends Gojo crashing down with a sickening thud as the players surrounding Gojo come to a horrified halt. The crowd's cheers came to a deadlock as they watched him clutch his knee in agony, a grimace overtaking his features.
Gojo’s mom gasps as she moves from her seat to get to him. Your cousin stands back, watching with an unreadable look on her face, and you worry about what that could mean.
You don’t like the way his knee buckled, and guessing from the way he’s holding his knee you assume that it had something to do with the way his body shifted to one side as his knee remained in place.
Medical staff rushes into the basketball court as they motion for the players to stand back to make room for assistance. They pick him up to help him off the court, and you frown at the defeated look on Gojo’s face. The look on his face tugs a few strings in your heart. You have trouble deciding whether it’s because your profession surrounds you with countless broken dreams or because it’s the person whose dreams are being broken.
You don’t like what that might entail.
“I’m going to be honest here,” the announcer solemnly comments, “And I hate to say it, but most players do not recover from injuries like these.”
You didn't like a lot of things about tonight.
Gojo somberly lays in the hospital bed. His eyes never stray from his injured knee, until the door of the hospital room opens to reveal a doctor walking towards his bed.
His mom is first to speak, “Doctor, is he going to be okay?” Her teeth nibble at her lip in a stressful manner. The doctor wears a straight face, and his ability to not display an emotion concerns Gojo’s mother even more.
“Satoru has suffered a torn posterior cruciate ligament. Which is one of the four core ligaments needed for the knee to function properly. With some extreme discipline, hard work, and a bit of luck we might have you back in action by training camp.”
Gojo’s teeth clench in agitation at the news, “training camp? You’re fucking with me.”
“Satoru…” His mom chides.
His manager speaks up “I have to get him ready by playoffs,” he runs a frustrated hand through his hair as Gojo disassociates with the situation around him.
“I’m sorry, but that won’t be possible. You all need to be prepared for the possibility that Gojo Satoru’s NBA career could be over.” The doctor finished gently, his tone laced with empathy as he made his exit, shutting the door behind him.
Silence engulfed the room at the weight of the doctor’s words, suffocating Gojo. A sense of disbelief washed over him at the potential knowledge that he’ll never be able to play basketball again.
The manager is first to break the silence with an exasperated tone, “We’re gonna need one hell of a physical therapist if we want to get him ready by playoffs.”
Geto stands silently, a plan devising, “I know someone who can.”
“Absolutely not.” You decline, walking away from Geto.
You were in the middle of your lunch break when he showed up at your job, asking you to be Gojo’s physical therapist during his recovery. He was crazy, you concluded. You? Having to take on the responsibility of whether or not he’ll ever be able to step foot on that court? Hell no.
On top of that, while you would’ve jumped at the job in the past, things had changed. Being in a house with Gojo and your cousin sounded like your own personal hell.
You’d rather not put yourself in an uncomfortable position.
“Please,” He stares intently at you, “Didn’t you want to become a permanent NBA physical therapist?” Geto continues to reason with you, but you can’t find it in yourself to listen.
You raise an eyebrow at his admission, “You don’t even know if I’m good,” sipping on your drink before continuing, “It’s a big responsibility for me to take on such a job–” Geto cuts in before you could finish, “Which is why I’m giving you until the end of tomorrow to think about it. I already talked to his manager, and he’s on board.”
You pipe up to cut in but he’s quicker than you, “And yes we know there are already physical therapists working on the team.”
You can’t help but question one last time. “How are you sure I’m even qualified enough to treat someone like Gojo Satoru?”
“Because he told me he trusted that you could. He wants you to, and that’s enough.”
In the days that followed, news of Gojo's condition spread like wildfire, eliciting an outpouring of support and well-wishes from fans and teammates alike.
The magazine headlines were discouraging, to say the least.
“Is The Gojo Family Basketball Line Over?”
“WHAT NOW?: What Gojo Satoru’s Injury Means for the NBA.”
“IT’S GOJOVER.”
Gojo had a great support system even if a rotten apple was buried beneath the depths. You wonder how she was helping Gojo deal with this. She never had a bone of empathy after all.
After your conversation with Geto, you’d finished your shift, distracted, to say the least. On your drive back home you realized that he was right, working with the top player of the NBA could bring major attention to you, and your work. If you managed to get him ready by playoffs, that is.
And there’s nothing you can’t do when you put your mind to it.
Profession aside you had to consider the obvious. Would you be able to work day, and night in a house with Gojo and your cousin? You think you could, but saying it is vastly different than doing it. Considering how you felt during the proposal, you’re more than sure that you’ll be fine.
After you’d made it home, you quickly showered and thought more about it while you prepared for bed. You sat in silence for a few minutes in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. You sit up to reach for your phone on the bedside table, dialing Geto’s number.
With a sigh you speak into the darkness of your room, fiddling with the bedsheets snug against your bare legs, “I want good pay, like good.” You grin to yourself when you hear Geto’s snicker through the phone before humming in acknowledgment.
A moment of silence passes between you both before he breaks it, “That’s the first thing Satoru talked to his manager about, paying you more than the average pay,” he confesses, and you’re shocked at the admission but do nothing to show it. Quickly brushing over that statement.
“So, when do I start?”
The following day you packed some clothes to temporarily move in with your parents for the next few months that were to follow Gojo’s physical therapy. Since they lived a few minutes away from his house, the drive back and forth would be easy.
After you had called your mom she was more than happy to have you stay with them.
You were nervous for your first day of work, but Geto assured you, that he and Gojo’s manager would be there to help familiarize yourself with Gojo’s schedule.
You knock on the door and wait patiently as the locks turn on the other side of the door. “Oh,” your cousin deadpans before awkwardly greeting you, “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to work. Gojo didn’t tell you?” You’re confused at her lack of awareness of the entire situation.
“I haven’t spoken to Gojo since he got injured, he’s got this whole ‘depressed’ thing going on, and it’s ruining my mood.”
You gape at her insensitivity, following her as she leads you into the house, “He’s upstairs with his mom and Megumi,” she motions her hand to the stairs. You can’t help but notice the missing engagement ring on her ring finger.
You notice she’s dressed up for something, and you wonder where she’s going. “You’re not staying?”
“Absolutely not. I’m going out.” You nod absentmindedly as you make your way up the stairs, and you sigh as you hear the front door slam behind you.
As you reach the second floor the faint noise of the TV grows louder with each step towards the dim light flowing out of the slightly opened door. You gently knock on the door, and the talking comes to a halt as a faint ‘come in’ is heard from inside.
You walk in to find Gojo’s mom chatting away on the phone, and Megumi playing video games on the flatscreen TV with a gloomy-looking Gojo sitting on the sofa.
Immediately you spring into action, “Not good.” You chastise, “Having your leg bent, and not elevated while you’re sitting for long periods will worsen the pain,” you move to grab his leg and prop it on the coffee table with a cushion resting on the back of his knee, to soften the hardness of the table.
Gojo’s once gloomy expression brightens at your presence, “Hey!” He greets you. You frown a little at his appearance.
The bags under his eyes. The skinnier physique—a contrast to his once semi-bulky one—. A more pale skin complexion. But it’s his lethargic movements that concern you the most. He needs to be up and active as soon as he’s able to walk without his boot cast.
“What? Not happy to see your favorite basketball player?” His words are delivered with a confident glint in his eyes.
“That’s if you can ever play again, remember?” Megumi states with a straight face before Gojo’s mom gently smacks the back of his head at his impolite retort, returning to her phone call. Megumi grumbles under his breath, rubbing the back of his head to soothe the gentle slap.
You stare at Gojo with a more serious expression. “We will get you on that court before playoffs, but I need your utmost effort. Got it?”
“Yes ma’am.” Gojo gives you an exaggerated salute, complete with a comical serious facial expression.
“And where is your ice pack?” You question him, moving his crutches to the side of the couch. Gojo shrugs at the question, and you just now realize how hard he’ll probably make this for you. But you’ll need to get him into a routine immediately. You feel like you’ve already enough valuable wasted time.
“Be up tomorrow at 8 in the morning for breakfast. We have a long set of months ahead of us.”
Geto and Gojo’s manager, whose name you learned was Hiromi Higuruma, had arrived shortly after your encounter with Gojo and Megumi.
They’d given you a rundown of Gojo’s everyday schedule and had advised you to switch it up depending on his physical therapy sessions. You nodded along, soaking up every piece of information offered to you.
“The job is full-time and live-in—” You quickly cut Higuruma off. “Live in? Sorry, but I can’t do that.”
“And why not?” Good question. You look over at Geto for some help, and he sighs before coming to your rescue. “She’s staying with her parents a few blocks down, I think it’ll be okay. Don’t you think?” Higuruma looks between you both, thinking about Geto’s words before nodding.
“I suppose so, but that would mean I need you to be ready to answer the phone at any moment. Got it?”
“Got it,” you give him a firm nod before smiling over at Geto. He winks at you in response.
Higurama wraps up the brief rundown after ensuring you had his number saved in the case of an emergency.
After he leaves, Geto briefly pulls you aside for a talk. “Okay, since you’ll be here almost 24-7, one thing you need to know about this house is that the door right there,” he points to the shut door at the end of the hall, “Must remain closed at all times. No one is allowed in there, not Satoru’s mom, your cousin, or me. Only Satoru.”
You stare at the door and wonder what Gojo could be hiding in there. The once-light atmosphere turned uncomfortable. “Does he have a weird kinky room in there? Or what, Geto?” You awkwardly chuckle in an attempt to soothe the mood. Thankfully it does.
Geto laughs before nodding heartedly, “Knowing Satoru? Probably.” He pauses, “And don’t call me that. Call me Suguru.”
The days that followed Gojo’s physical therapy were tough. You had changed his diet, workout routine, and daily life schedule.
At the beginning of your sessions, Gojo would groan, and wither a lot in pain with certain exercises—granted. He’d start a bit somber, and brighten up as the day went on. It was like that until at some point he’d wake up ready to start the day.
“So, when will this knee be working again?” Gojo probed before releasing a deep groan when you gently shifted his bent knee open. You were currently in the middle of Gojo’s first physical therapy session of the day. As he lay on a cushioned treatment bed in the middle of his home Gym while you worked his knee. “Well, you need to let your knee heal first.” You answer him gently, gaze never leaving his leg.
You focus more on the position in which he groaned, “Any pain there?” You question him before repeating the motion. “Holy shit, yes,” he curses.
“You’re such a big baby,” You tell him, and he clicks his tongue at you before looking away.
A few exercises later, Gojo’s mom walks into the gym, “Hi sweetie!” She softly greets you before turning to Gojo with worried eyes, “How are you doing honey?”
“She’s torturing me, save me. Please,” he dramatically begs, earning an eye roll from you. “A man-child I tell you.”
No one in the room noticed the looming set of jealous eyes staring directly at you from the door.
Your cousin was never around and you weren’t ready to bring it up. Not until you were positive that Gojo’s progress was irreversible. Until then you tried not to bring her up or mention the lack of a ring on her finger.
Progress was finally showing physically, but lately, you’d started to see some decline in his mental health and ultimately it was affecting his session performances. And it was your job to make sure that didn’t happen.
“What’s wrong with you?” You asked Gojo one day during the breakfast you’d cooked for Megumi and him.
Megumi had become slightly attached to you once you’d started to be around more. Silently following you around the house, no words spoken whatsoever. At first, he would be around at a distance. You’d be in a room, and Megumi would be peeking at you from the door, watching you. You never found it weird. Not at all. Shy and introverted kids were often like that.
So you let him come to you at his own time, and at some point, he did. Now he just trails behind you or beside you, depending on the day. You often include him in your unadventurous adventures, running errands.
He was always your little helper. Whether it was completing a task, or disputing with Gojo in your defense.
“Don’t talk to her.”
“Your face is stupid, Gojo.”
“That’s why you need help walking.”
“Maybe you’d be able to play if you were a better basketball player.”
If Gojo wants to playfully give you a hard time, it’d need to be around a time when Megumi is not present.
“Nothing is wrong with me,” he averts the question, munching away on his boiled eggs with a vegetable salad and a piece of bread. You look over at Megumi for an answer. The little boy nods in understanding, taking a bite of his breakfast before yapping away, “He had a fight with his girlfriend last night, and now they’re more angry with each other than they have been since you got here.” You narrow your eyes at Gojo.
Gojo gapes at Megumi before, whispering a faint ‘traitor’. Megumi shrugs before remembering something, “Oh, and he didn’t drink that green protein shake you made him yesterday morning because he said it ‘tastes like shi-’,” Gojo slaps a hand over Megumis mouth to silence him, and now you’re narrowing your eyes at him for a different reason.
“Ow!” Gojo yelps, snatching his hand away from Megumi’s mouth, and you snort at the red bite marks on his hand. You pat down Megumi’s hair as he eats away happily, unbothered from the mess he just made.
“You,” You point at Gojo, “should’ve told me that you didn’t like the green shake I made you. I could’ve just made you a different one. And you” " you point to Megumi, “Only bite Gojo after he’s washed his hands.”
“How are you feeling?” Suguru says after exchanging hugs with Gojo, making sure not to get in the way of his crutches. Gojo grins at him before softly asking you to help him sit on the couch, and you move quickly to get a cushion, and his ice pack.
“I’ve been doing better, thanks to her,” he points at you with his thumb with praise. You smile thankfully at him.
His eyes linger on yours for a while longer before turning back to Suguru. You worry at the anxious look Suguru sports on his face, “There’s a rumor going around that the Jujutsu Sorcerers don’t want to re-sign you.” You immediately sit up at the news.
“What?” You interrupt with a scoff, “The Jujutsu Sorcerers? Without Gojo? No way.”
Gojo stares intently at the wall, contemplating the Suguru’s words. Suguru sighs, “I told them if they don’t re-sign you, they’re not re-signing me.” Gojo weakly smiles gratefully at Suguru, but you worry at how it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
They’ve been best friends since high school, you doubt Suguru is messing around. You’ve seen how close they are, they have each other's back for anything.
“We need you to be ready by playoffs, and I know you will be.”
“Have you heard from your cousin?” Gojo asks, looking at his phone. You’re in the middle of another physical therapy session when Gojo drops the bomb. You look up from your focus on his knee in a questioning manner, “I haven’t heard from her since she got engaged to you.”
You move your focus to his knee again, and he hums at your answer. As the session progresses, Gojo’s attention continuously strays. Until you can’t take it anymore.
“Alright, what’s the matter?”
Gojo opens his mouth to answer you before you cut him off, “And don’t say it’s nothing because you said that last time. It’s clearly something if it’s come up more than twice.” You look at him pointedly.
He sighs before rubbing his head in a frustrated manner. “We got into a fight the other day,” he confesses, you’re about to chime in before he continues, “I know you already know,” he says nervously, but you don’t know about what.”
You’re scared now.
“We got into a fight…” he trails off, “About you.”
What?
feel more than welcome to submit a request <3
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❝ PROFESSIONAL BASKETBALL PLAYER!GOJO SATORU X PHYSICAL THERAPIST!READER. ❞
SYNOPSIS: After an unexpected encounter with the infamous Gojo Satoru at a local convenience store at 3 A.M. You're given the opportunity to worm your way into his life, but not without a personal invitation from Gojo himself. One thing leads to another, and you're the first person they call when he gets a career-threatening injury, forcing both of you to spend day and night together, but without some obstacles of course: your cousin.
WORD COUNT : 8K
SERIES MASTERLIST : ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .
Your days start off simple. Wake up at 5 am. Shower at 5:05. Get ready at 5:30. Breakfast at 6:30am. Leave your cozy city apartment at 7:00 am –sharp– to make it to work.
“Good morning Miwa,” you greet politely, walking past her desk and she scrambles to gather her clipboard. Hot on your tail, she frantically looks over her notes. “What do you have for me today?” You ask.
“Doctor, your first consultation of the day is waiting for you in your office! And your regular patient called to let you know that those exercises you suggested are working wonders!” You nod and hum occasionally to inform her that you’re listening as you maneuver through the rest of the doctors, stopping momentarily to encourage a patient lifting weights. She speaks quickly. “And Doctor Shoko called to ask if you’ll be going to…” she pauses and you figure she’s looking at her notes again. “The basketball game,” and she's quick to add “ —the Jujutsu Sorcerers are playing tomorrow night.”
You stop abruptly outside of your office door, feeling Miwa lightly bump into your back before she mutters a swift apology. You turn around, raising a questioning eyebrow. “She called about that? Tell her I’m bus-”. Miwa’s quick to intercept. “She insists! Plus, I thought you loved the Jujutsu Sorcerers?”
You think it over.
You did like them. No. They were your absolute favorite basketball team. Besides, you could never turn down a basketball game.
“Fine. I’ll see her tomorrow night. Thank you Miwa.”
“We have just minutes to go here in the fourth quarter of the season opener at the Sorcerer Stadium. The Jujutsu Sorcerers up by ten over the Special Grades, thanks much to the tremendous effort of the star point guard, Gojo Satoru.”
Inside the stadium is loud, as fans cheer on their favorite teams. It’s a full game tonight. A completely sold out stadium with all the people that showed up to praise their favorite players. The energy is loud, and fun. As people stand, and others sit in their seats in a stressful manner—mostly the losing team.
The two kids behind you wear matching Jujutsu Sorcerers jerseys. One boy is sporting a 01 while the other sports a 02. One for the infamous Gojo Satoru and the other for Geto Suguru. You’re happy to admit that you too are sporting a number 01 jersey.
“Gojo Satoru, one of the best point guards in the league. Living up to his reputation and title of the ‘Chosen One’, tonight.” You listen, and watch intently as the announcers speak of Gojo. As he dribbles left, dodging every player in his way, bypassing their attempts to stop him. He’s unstoppable.
“He looks inside. And he’s got nothing there.” The announcer anticipates. The crowd stands up from their seats eager to watch his next move. Their anticipation is intense as everyone in the stadium witnesses the Gojo Satoru work up close.
“He’s gonna take it himself!” The announcer exclaimed in disbelief, he himself could not believe this. “Behind the back! He puts it up, and it's good” The entire stadium puts their hands up to cheer, and scream. You see a mix of colors in the crowd, mostly a light blue in support of the Jujutsu Sorcerers.
You tune out the announcers as Gojo Satoru is celebrating his team's score. He’s sweating so much his jersey sticks to his chest and stomach. You can faintly make out the outline of his abs. His muscles flex as he lifts his shirt up to wipe the sweat off his forehead, his abs on full display. You grin at how hot he is. Anyone with eyes can see it. You swear you hear the girls cheer louder at the display of skin. Even if you were still here for the game, you were still a woman after all.
“You’re drooling.” Shoko points out beside you, and you almost reach your hand towards your mouth to check before you playfully narrow your eyes at her. “Please,” you say dismissively, “What’s the correct way to react to a court full of sweaty hot guys? Watch the game?”.
Her eyes roll dramatically before sporting a playful grin, and you bump your shoulder against hers to bring out a full smile from her. You succeed.
Shoko continues to cheer on the team. This is the most excited you’ve seen her since she found a remaining cigarette in her car after she’d just ran out. You were so distracted by the cigarette addict beside you that you almost missed the foul they gave the other team as Gojo Satoru stands on the free throw line.
“Gojo Satoru shot 95% from the freethrow line last season, but he’s been 100% tonight.” The announcers go back to bickering about the game, praising Gojo’s in-game scores. “Let’s see if he stays on his hot streak tonight, and for the rest of the season–”.
Gojo dribbles the ball, and the stadium remains silent. The tension thick in the air as they hold their breath–even you, who leans forward in anticipation. He locks his knees, and shoots straight into the basketball hoop. The ball never even touches the rim. He makes both shots. Gojo smirks cockily as he slaps Geto’s hand twice in celebration.
“-And he’s done it! It’s 12 in a row, for Gojo Satoru. Geto Suguru–number two–has 10 tonight. Quite a duo on the court. I would say.”
Shoko and you cheer on the team as they celebrate the win themselves. The kids behind you scream so loud your ear drums almost pop, but you can’t find it in yourself to mind. This is why you loved going to basketball games in the first place. The excitement in the court, and in the entire stadium is something no one can miss.
The kids behind you are so excited that it spreads to you, and you jump up to celebrate with them. Their toothy smiles are so big and bright. They warm your heart. The moment is quickly ruined by the woman sitting on the other side of you, opposite to Shoko.
“Look at that!” Your cousin harshly tugs your arm, pulling you down to reach her seat. “The player’s wives section. Full of snobby bitches.” Her fingers frantically shake to dramatize how much she wants you to see. “I’m looking.” You reply exasperated before rolling your eyes. “She has a custom Birkin! Do you have any idea how expensive that is?” She asks, and you reply with a muttered response “A house mortgage loan, I assume.”
Your cousin was—to put it shortly–spoiled, but you respected her views on someday marrying a rich man. The only problem with that is that she even uses the good ones. You’re all for using a man for your own personal gain, but sometimes, some of them really didn't deserve it.
She was a model. Not a well known one, but a model nonetheless. She was gorgeous, and everyone knew it. Even the men you dated. Most of them had gone as far to tell you. But you never let it deter your self-esteem. Men are a defective species and that has nothing to do with you. You choose to push that thought aside before it can develop into a mental breakdown in the middle of a basketball game.
The children screaming behind you interrupt it before it can. “Look, look!” The kids behind you frantically poke at you to look. What’s up with everyone poking and pulling you today?
“He just made a three-pointer,” the boy lisps a little, and you swear you feel the saliva hit your face.
More than half of the game is just Gojo Satoru stealing the ball, and making countless scores.
You look up at the clock and see the time as it read ten seconds on the board.
“Gojo Satoru again with the ball!” You watch as he steals the ball and dribbles all the way across the court. Five seconds on the clock. He jumps up, and slams the ball directly into the basketball net with both hands still hanging onto the rim. “Anddd Number 1… brings the game home!” And the final buzzer rings across the court, calling the game. Zero seconds on the board.
The announcer makes one last comment, “Unbelievable performance by Gojo Satoru.”
Gojo is instantly swarmed with reporters in hopes of getting a word with him. But he’s fine with this. He loves the attention. He loves it when all eyes are on him. He thinks it’s how it should always be. A cocky man at heart.
“Tremendous game tonight Gojo Satoru.” The reporter speaks, and she’s too close for any regular reporter, and Gojo catches onto it quickly. “Thank you, thank you.” He responds in an airy flirty tone.
He scans the stands, and his eyes catch onto a woman helping two kids from their seats—they wear the number of his jersey, and Getos. His eyebrows furrow, and he tunes out the reporter subconsciously. The mysterious woman laughs at something her friend says—and his eyebrows lift up in surprise at the recognition of his friend, Shoko.
“Almost a decade with the Jujutsu Sorcerers, the only franchise you’ve ever played for…” a male reporter takes a lead on his attention as Gojo turns his head over to talk to the male reporter. He smiles into the camera, a radiant smile.
A player from the opposing team passes Gojo before patting his back, and cheers at him for the good game.
“...But you’re a free agent at the end of the season. The question everyone wants to know… will Gojo Satoru re-sign with the Jujutsu Sorcerers?” he asks as he shifts the microphone from side to side at the question, urging Gojo to answer. The reporters surrounding him, too, lean closer into him.
Gojo licks his lips before responding. His chest breathing erratically from the previous game, “I prove myself night in and night out on that court. I’m the best in the league right now. Of course they’ll sign me. I’m the best.”
He winks at the female reporter after his proud admission as her face turns bright red at the display of flirtation. She lowers the microphone to say something to him personally before his manager comes disrupting the flirty exchange and drags him away from the reporters as their distant shouts begin to fade, entering the locker room.
You’re exiting the stadium before one of your cousin’s friends invites herself into the conversations. Completely interrupting your rant about how horrible the injury a recent basketball player received.
“Girl, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” You turn around at the sound of the high-pitched voice, and see a woman dressed in all black, some large classy sunglasses, and a dark cherry red lipstick. Her aura emitted elegance, and high-class.
“Hey,” she greets you in a monotone voice before turning over to your cousin again and her excitement seems to be shot back into her system as she begins to ramble to your cousin. Your head tilts at her attitude. Disbelief is clear on your face.“It is so packed in here, it is so gross.” She comments with an undeniable hint of disgust in her voice as she clutches her mini purse closer to her.
“But anyway!” she dismisses, “Gojo Satoru… is having a birthday party Saturday night at his house, but we don’t have the tickets yet, sooooo we’re going to an after party tonight, and see if we can worm ourselves into getting some tickets.” She picks at her nails before grabbing your cousin's hands to shake them in an urging manner. She takes her glasses off to show her a pleading look.
Your cousin lifts her eyebrow in question, “Where’s the after party?”
“The Shibuya Hotel.” Your cousin thinks it over before nodding, turning over to you. “You don’t mind do you?”
You smile at her, “No, not at all. Do your thing.”
“K-K, bye!” Her long slender fingers moving back and forth in a quick and dismissive goodbye.
The bells above the door jingle to announce the presence of someone entering the convenience store. The sudden sound of them has you looking up.
After the game ended you went home and locked yourself up to finish some remaining paperwork, before checking the time and deciding to grab a snack at your favorite corner store.
You glance up at the clock in wonder. It’s currently 3 a.m, and the convenience store tucked into the sketchy corner of the city is always empty. It’s quite a walk from here to your apartment, but a welcomed one. Especially at this time. You always found yourself making late night trips to the store for a midnight snack. Late night walks are something you found quite peaceful. A walk in the dark as you play your favorite playlist, finding a chance to lose yourself in your own head.
You were close to the owner, an old sweet man that conjured a liking to you because of how much you resembled his daughter that is currently deployed overseas.
You spare a glance at the hooded figure that steps into the store, their back turned to you, but you note how tall they are. A shiver runs down your spine as the opened door allows cold air to rush into the tight space. You’re not sure if the shiver was a cause of the gust of wind that slithered its way inside or the new presence of the looming figure.
You continue to browse through the mochi flavors, looking for your beloved one. It’s unusual for them to be unstocked around this time, considering how cold the weather is. And how empty this side of town finds itself to be. You sigh as you bend down to get a better look.
You feel a presence behind you, and you stiffen at their closeness. A masculine, slender hand, comes into view, as it reaches for the exact flavor of mochi you so happened to be reaching for as well. You both freeze at the sudden, and unexpected contact before both releasing a nervous laugh.
But neither of you find it in yourselves to retract your hands. You clear your throat before speaking.
“Listen…It’s been a rough night,” You start, and turn to face him, but pause mid sentence at the look of what he’s wearing. A black face mask, a black hoodie with the hood of it over his head, and some sunglasses?…At night…and indoors? Not only that, but the man in question was insanely tall. Taller than any regular man you’ve encountered. He had the height of a basketball player.
“Nevermind,” You suddenly find yourself not in the mood to argue with a suspicious stranger at 3 a.m in a sketchy part of town. Your mother always taught you that as a woman being careful with who you piss off, especially a man that could bring you harm, was important. You wish you had the confidence to defend yourself physically, but you’d rather never have to take those chances. That was the reality of it.
“You can keep it.” You mutter before gathering your things, and speeding over to the cash register. You watch him scan your items, but you can’t shake off the feeling of two eyes burning holes on your back throughout the whole ordeal.
You pull your scarf tighter against your neck as you speed walk to your car. The cold of the fall, and lack of sun always makes your entire body quiver. You thank your past self for wearing thick layers of clothing, knowing you wouldn’t be able to handle the freezing weather.
You never could handle the cold.
Your senses heightened when you heard steps approaching behind you, quickly at that.
You clench your first in your coat jacket, readying yourself for anything. The steps get closer, and you wait until you feel their presence closely behind you before swinging around, surprising him with a amateaur punch. “Ow!” the stranger winces. “What the fuck!” He chokes out in surprise, holding his face in shock.
You bring your hands up to your mouth in a gasp. “Oh- My-God!” A frantic apology is quick to escape your lips. “Why would you do that?!” You question. “Don’t–sneak up on a woman like that!” Your hands move around to signal the obvious, it’s dark.
“Well, fuck!” He responds, “I was just trying to give you the mochi,” His hand extends to reveal the truth. A mochi sits in his grasp—not just any mochi—the one you abandoned back in the store for the sake of it. He chased after you to give it to you.
Your body deflates at the realization, and it makes you feel a tiny bit sorry. Not for long when you realize he's most certainly at fault. He should’ve known not to approach a girl in the dead of night.
A few feet of distance separates you both, but you can’t help but release a tiny embarrassed laugh at the comedic situation. Your contagious laugh seems to transfer to him because he releases a small huff of amusement under his breath.
You’re both standing under a streetlamp a few feet away from the convenience store, in a defense mode. The stranger in front of you still holds onto his face in an attempt to relieve the pain.
The physical therapist in you kicks in, and you step closer towards him to inspect the damage. He’s reluctant to let you approach him, tensing is evident in the way his shoulders square up. But you reassure him. “It’s okay,” you softly comfort, “I’m a physical therapist, I just want to see that it won’t bruise or anything.”
Your words seem to help because his guarded shoulders deflate a little.
“Let me see,” you murmur into the dark, reaching over to remove his hand. He watches you intently through his glasses, and you realize he’s wearing a lot to protect his face. You take the time to study his remote way of dressing. His attempt to hide himself, you reason within yourself. His hair is covered by a black hood, paired with a black beanie, a black face mask that covers his lips and nose, a light blue sweatshirt that brings some color, some gray sweats that cover the entirety of his long legs, and a black puffer jacket to help keep the cold out. He looks warm, yet cold at the same time.
You wonder why he’s deliberately trying to hide who–or what—he is.
You find out soon enough because when you peel off his hand, and later his face mask to get a better look at his cheek you blurt out the first thing that crosses your mouth.
“You’re Gojo Satoru.” It’s spoken in a whisper, he almost doesn’t hear the acknowledgement with how soft your voice travels. Your eyes are wide with surprise, and a bit of elation. It felt like a caress, he notes.
“The one, and only.” His response doesn’t come out as confident as he planned. Instead it came off shaky, and unsure. Breathless even. He blames it on the look on your face, and the way you stare intently into his eyes, seeing straight through him. His lips crack into a smile, and the amused look in your eye caused by his cheesy line.
“You sound more confident on TV.” You retaliate. He’s quick with a witty response, “Maybe you just make me nervous.” He wets his lips with a swipe of his tongue, taking you in. You’re illuminated by the streetlamp.
You laugh at his stupid attempt to flirt with you, playfully dismissing his advances.
Bringing your focus back to his cheek you inspect it before speaking, “It won’t bruise,” He looks like he’s ready to speak up but you interrupt him by finishing your sentence, “But—you’ll still need to ice it. At least for tonight.”
Of course it wouldn’t bruise, you’ve never taken any lessons on how to properly hit—let alone land a punch. You punched him in hopes of catching him off guard before he could surprise you, giving you the chance to run for the hills, not because you knew you’d be able to take a stranger in a fight.
When your fight or flight response kicked in, you didn’t even ponder the possibility of punching a professional athlete, let alone a professional basketball player. One that played for your favorite team. Quite frankly you were starstruck, and the fangirl in you was having an entire party. The Gojo Satoru was here. Right in front of you. He was even more gorgeous up close—taller too.
The cameras did indeed do him justice, but nothing ever compares to the real thing. His bright blue eyes, and snow-white lashes were straight out of a magical fairytale. As much as you’d like to jump up and down, and then hug him, you knew you had to contain yourself. Otherwise you would scare him away. Or he would feel too uncomfortable to engage in casual conversation with a crazy fan.
But you were more of a basketball fan than solely a Gojo Satoru fan, and that fact alone was keeping you at bay. Your early childhood years of having a basketball coach father always kept you engaged in basketball in general.
After going back inside the convenience store to grab some ice from the ice machine—with Gojo trailing closely behind you—you both now sat on the edge of the sidewalk right in front of the convenience store, talking amongst one another about nothing in particular. The only source of lighting being the lit up convenience store, and the streetlamp hovering over your seater figures.
Gojo sits beside you with a hand holding the ice pack to his face, while another is used to reach into the bag of mochi to grab some more. But your mind can’t seem to ignore how close you two sit against one another, your thighs are almost touching from your close proximity.
“Thank you.” Gojo’s hushed voice cuts through the silly conversational atmosphere, and turns into a semi-serious one.
A tiny toothless smile spreads across your face, “You can thank me, by winning the championships.” Your knee knocks into his in an attempt to bring back the playful mood, and he takes it gratefully. He responds eagerly by knocking his knee against yours in response. His touch shoots a tingle up your spine.
Your smile must be contagious because the cutest lopsided smile makes an appearance on Gojo’s face, “Oh, so you’re really a die-hard fan?” He teases.
“Ever since I was a little girl.”
“How so?” He asks, his eyes never leaving your face as his hands reach into the bag of mochi to munch on.
“Well,” You think about your next words as you gesture for Gojo to move the bag of mochi closer so that you can grab a piece, “My dad was a college basketball coach—still is—and all through elementary to middle school I would often sit on the side of practices and watch them play. So I kind of developed an interest in watching the sport. I find it nostalgic—in a way. My dad and I just bond over it.”
You mention how you were looking to become a professional NBA physical therapist. It had been your dream ever since you were a little girl. And it still is. Though you’re a current sports physical therapist— the best in your field—you want more.
He’s silent as he reflects on your response. You take this as your chance to bite into your mochi, humming contently at the yummy taste. The chewy texture is satisfying against your tongue, its sweetness seeping into your mood.
“That’s cool,” he replies after a moment of silence. “I grew up watching—and playing—basketball too.” He pauses, and you patiently wait as he collects his thoughts.
“But mostly because our family has been professional basketball players for generations, and I just kind of fell into that.”
You nod your head in understanding. You wonder if he’s playing because he genuinely likes the game or because it’s expected of him to continue the tradition. The legacy.
You knew about the Gojo family being generational professional basketball players. Every single one of them have played for the Jujutsu Sorcerers, and because of them they’ve always been an outstanding basketball team. Some consider them to be reincarnations of each other, but that’s just silly internet theories.
There’s numerous articles about the Gojo family, a lot of them highlighting the way they dominate almost every industry. Their wealth, and worldwide superiority is insanely known. It went beyond just Gojo’s direct family playing professional basketball, their entire family tree is gifted with various qualities.
You can’t imagine the burden he must carry.
One thing is certain and it’s that you’re genuinely delighted in his presence. You realize he’s silent before looking over at him, and you frown at the unreadable look on his face. “What’s wrong?” You probe.
His gorgeous bright blue eyes look all over your face in an analytical kind of way, before a ghost smile grazes his features. “Nothing,” he says softly, his eyes staring softly at you, “Nothing at all.” He turns back to bite into his mochi, chewing on it before contently humming to himself.
A familiar tune, you realize, and you gasp before hitting his arm, “Is that the Digimon tune?” His eyes twinkle in surprise, and something like eagerness—before he takes off into another excited rant. Telling you about his favorite digital pet model toy he used to own as a kid, and how he still has a collection of them at home. He tells you about how he wishes to find a rare one. His descriptions are so animated, and you can’t help but stare fondly at his features.
Though you weren’t a huge digimon fan, you don’t bother telling him in fear of breaking through his elation.
How the corner of his lips turns up in excitement or how his hands are used to animatedly demonstrate what he is trying to portray. Often used to wave them around. Your favorite feature would have to be his eyes, and the way they sparkle when he talks about something he's passionate about. Even in the darkness his ice cold blue eyes find a way to look so warm.
You like the bubble you’ve both created for yourselves. Time feels unimportant, and worries feel so far away.
After his rant you fall back into a comfortable silence. The ambience around you does a good job at filling the silence. The crickets hidden in the grass sing as the wind blows, swaying the trees. The moon lightens up the world to the best of her ability. But the city is alive, it always is. New York never sleeps, even at night. It’s probably the time it’s most awake.
Gojo breaks the comfortable silence,“What are you doing Saturday night?”
You make it back at 7 a.m., (with the help of Gojo driving you home), and thank the gods that you didn’t have work today. Shoko would’ve pestered you about your late night whereabouts.
You’re welcomed by the sight of your cousin sitting on the floor by the coffee table surrounded by numerous magazines scattered around the living room. Her concentration prompts you to raise a skeptical eyebrow.
Cautiously walking into her space to not cause a disturbance, you ask her why she has a mess in your living room.
“I’m researching.” What could she possibly be researching in a magazine?
She notices your confused silence, and heavily sighs before putting her pen down. “I’m trying to figure out how to marry a professional athlete so that I can leech off him, and live a happy–rich–life. A girl doesn’t just become the wife of a NBA franchise player by accident.” She takes a moment to apply lip gloss before continuing.
“It takes strategy, good intel, and vision.” She finishes off before grabbing the poster board sitting next to her, showing you a pin board with various different basketball players. Thankfully, a certain bright blue eyed player is absent.
Next to each of their pictures is their name, age, birthday, interests, basketball team, and other miscellaneous facts. Her entire pin-board looks like an FBI investigation wall.
“Modeling only pays so much. Especially as a model who isn’t a Super-model.” An exasperated breath leaves her lips as if she was exhausted from just explaining the obvious to you.
“I mean look at this!” She says, frantically showing you the magazine. You lean over to get a better look as you read the title.
‘PROFESSIONAL ATHLETE, NANAMI KENTO’S WIFE STARTS BRAND NEW BAKING TELEVISION SHOW.’
“These women get fragrance deals, shoe lines, clothing lines, like O-M-G! Even shows!” Each admission becomes more passionate than the last. As she continues to rant to you. “I’m almost 30. I need to start thinking for myself, and my future. Like, now. I’ll find a man, and use him.”
You laugh at her crazy talk, you start putting fingers down as you list her current struggles, “You’re crashing in my guestroom.” One finger down. “Your BMW got repossessed because you stopped making payments.” Two fingers down. “You haven’t been able to hold a steady job.” Three fingers down. “And you don’t even help clean the house.” Four fingers down.
You wave them in front of her face to try and get your point across. “Look, I’m all for you finding a rich man in the future, and living off of him—that’s fine. But for now, at least help around the house when you can. I work lots of shifts at the clinic, the least you could do is help at home—”
“Especially since you don’t help me pay any bills.” She’s ready to protest, and cut you off. You make sure you get the last word in. “I don’t care because I get paid enough to cover this nice apartment in the middle of the city. Just, take some stress off my shoulders.” You smile kindly at her.
She lets out a huff of annoyance before turning back to her magazines, and ignoring you. A tired sigh escapes your lips. Her gloomy mood makes you feel pitiful, but thankfully you remember what Gojo said to you that night.
“Besides, how are you gonna get an NBA husband, if you…” You grab your phone, and tap on the screen before showing her the details for Gojo Satoru’s Saturday birthday party, “Don’t go to the gatherings?”
Her eyes grow wide with excitement, and she jumps up to hug you. “How did you do that?” She questions in disbelief, as she grabs your phone to see the tickets. “Well, I bumped into him in the street, and one thing led to another so he invited me.”
She squeals before hugging you again. “I need to figure out what I need to wear. No—I need to figure out what I need to buy to wear.” She runs to your guest room in excitement, muttering to herself as she begins to move further and further away from you. The door slammed shut as an indication that you’re now alone in the living room.
You choose to keep the details hidden of how exactly you met Gojo because of how personal they felt. It felt like something sacred that should be kept between Gojo and you. You didn’t want to let anyone inside your little bubble. As selfish as that sounded.
What happened earlier this morning felt so refreshing. You softly smile to yourself before walking to your room to rest your eyes before the party.
Your mom has always believed in destiny. That the universe worked in mysterious ways. She liked the idea that everything was meant to be. People were at a certain place, and time for a reason. Even if you lose something—whatever it may be— the first time, it’ll always come back someway, somehow.
You believe it now as she enters your old adolescent room before you, holding a box in her hands. You had decided to get ready at your parents house because of how convenient it would be, considering how Gojo’s house is closer to your parent’s house compared to yours.
“You are going to find a husband tonight.” Your mother laughs. You playfully roll your eyes at her admission. “Mom… don’t start.” You half-heartedly warn before she goes off her lovesick rant, placing the box on the table next to you.
“Honey, I married your father, and he still can’t believe his luck. I mean I understand, I am beautiful, and so is my gorgeous daughter—”
“—and niece!” Your cousin adds before going back to the mirror, touching up her eyelashes.
Your mother and you sweetly laugh before continuing, “I mean, when I first met him, it was like love at first sight.” You can’t help the frown that overtakes your features at her admission, a certain white-haired blue eyed man coming to mind.
“Anyway,” Your mother says before waving dismissively, “I have a surprise.” She smiles, before opening the box she had brought with her. You gasp as she pulls out the most gorgeous set of earrings you’ve ever laid eyes on. “Are those…?” You trail off in question.
“Your grandmother’s diamond earrings.” Your mother confirms before gazing softly at them. “She wore them the night she met your grandfather, and I wore them the night I met your father. And now I want you to wear them.” She tells you.
“They’re beautiful!” Your cousin compliments, quickly picking herself up from her seat and making her way over. “They are more than beautiful,” Your mother responds in agreement.
“I don’t think those will suit her Auntie, but they will suit me!” You glare at your cousin. Your mom smiles at your cousin before handing them to her. A look of betrayal paints your face. “Then I think you should wear them.”
Your heart drops at the admission, and before you could protest. The earrings are already on her before you could blink. “What do you think?” She asks you. Ugly. You think.
“I think I need a shot.” You mutter.
“Oh my god.” Your cousin says in amazement. “This is beautiful.”
You can’t help but silently agree with her. Gojo’s house was beyond gorgeous. The house was elegant, simplistic, yet lived in. It was decorated enough to uplift the house, rather than outshine it.
You walk through the main entrance, and see a lot of faces you’d usually see on TV, magazines, and billboard signs. Lots of Gojo’s teammates scatter among the crowd. They’re easy to spot considering their height.
The music is played to a low volume. The atmosphere emits one of class, tranquility yet fun, and livelihood. People chatter away, immersed in their own worlds, without a care in the world. You suppose that people who have the privilege to attend a Gojo gathering can afford to live without a care in the world.
As you enter the main living room, you hear a voice command the room. Perfecting timing.
“I’d like to make a special toast, for a special birthday boy.” Geto grins, lifting his drink to cheer, before grabbing Gojo by the neck and continuing with what you suspect is a birthday speech. As if on queue the people begin to gather around Geto and Gojo.
“I’m sure you’ve all heard this before,” Geto pauses before continuing, “that when some people become rich and famous they turn into pricks…” He looks back at Gojo, “But Satoru’s always been a rich and famous asshole, so it doesn’t apply to him.” He laughs before receiving a shove from Gojo as they share a hearty laugh together.
“Point is, he’s still the same guy from high school…minus the stickman legs, and high-pitched voice.” The crowd joins in on Geto’s laughter, “To my one and only best friend, happy birthday.” The crowd cheers, and a chorus of ‘Happy Birthday!' ring throughout the room. “Thank you Suguru.” You watch as Gojo and Geto prepare themselves to do a load of shots. As the music begins to pick up again, and the crowd disperses.
Your cousin taps your shoulder, and you look over at her, “I’m gonna go explore okay?”
“Oh! O–” You turn around to find her already gone, “--Kay.”
You find your way to the bar, as you sweetly greet the bartender. “Can I have a glass of champagne?”
You’re waiting patiently against the bar when you feel a tap on your shoulder, and a look of surprise crosses your features at the sight of Gojo’s beaming smile. “You made it.” He says happily, eyeing you with a dopey smile.
“Happy birthday!” You tell him, and his hand rests beside your waist against the bar, slightly caging you in. “I got you a card!” You say, reaching into your handbag for the Digimon themed birthday card, and a breathy chuckle leaves Gojo’s lips at the sight of it.
His eyes twinkle when he looks back up at you, “Aw, come on,” He says before continuing with a fake pout, “No surprise punch?”
You laugh at his lame teasing, but play along with him anyway. “Maybe next time, if you decide to run up behind me in the middle of the night, I’ll give you two.” His lips set on a teasing yet flirty smile, raising a questioning eyebrow, “Next time? With the way you look tonight, there will definitely be a next time—”
“Oh god!” A frantic voice interrupts you both, and you’re not surprised to find out the culprit is your cousin. Although you’re happy that she found you again, currently her presence is an unwelcome one. Her hand rests on your shoulder as she looks into your eyes. Your annoyance is quickly replaced with worry as it immediately overtakes your features. “There you are! I am so sorry, but I need to leave.” Your cousin says.
“What? Why? Is everything okay?” You ask, quickly scanning her for any physical injuries. “Everything is okay! It’s just that I got a call from the non-profit I was working with, and they need me to come in immediately.”
Non-profit? Working with?
“What? You don’t–”, She gives you a look that causes a realization to wash over you. She’s lying to cause an impression. With a roll of your eyes you clear your throat to look back at Gojo, but find that he is already fixated on something. Or more like someone.
Your cousin. The look on his face causes a sinking feeling to settle in your stomach. “Hey.” He says.
“Gojo, this is my cousin.” You tell him her name before continuing, “We grew up together.”
Your cousin barely glances at Gojo before realization dawns on her about who he is, and a flirty smile graces her features. “Oh, hi. Nice to meet you.” She says, before slipping back into a false indifference. Gojo’s eyes never leave her figure, but your cousin has a game to play, and it’s her favorite one. Unfortunately for Gojo, he’s playing right into it.
“One of the volunteers at the homeless shelter I help out at, just called in sick. So I need to go.” She begins to walk away, but Gojo stops her before she can. “You know, I volunteer too.”
“That’s cool," she says before turning to you and perking up again, “I have to stop by the store to buy some games for the kids, okay?” You couldn’t believe her. Her head tilted to one side while listening to him, a hidden sheen of interest coated her eyes.
You think you might have to kill yourself after this.
Gojo’s eyebrows raise once again in a curious manner, “You two…live together?”
“If by living together, you mean she free-loads, then yeah! We live together.” That earns you a gentle elbow in the stomach. “How can I get in touch with you?” He persists with an unrelenting stare.
“Oh…Gojo…It’s Gojo, right?” You feel your eyes roll involuntarily,” I’m sorry I’ve tried the whole ‘dating an athlete thing, and…it’s not my thing. But it was really nice talking to you.” She turns to you once again, and you swear you see a menacing glint in her eye. “Are you ready?”
To jump off a cliff? Absolutely.
Your cousin walks away, and anger overtakes your entire body. You turn to look at Gojo, and deflate at how his attention is solely on her, and the way she confidently walks away, catching the eyes of many men. Unaware of the attention you hinder as well.
You feel sick to your stomach. You should’ve asked the bartender for a round of shots.
Gojo’s friends watch as you walk away with interest in their eyes. “You know, the objective is not to make them leave.” Geto speaks up. Entranced by you.
But Gojo’s eyes stay focused elsewhere, before looking at Geto, “I think this worked out just great.” He trails off.
“What the hell was that back there?” You interrogate in a tight voice as soon as you shut the car door. “Oh. Come on.” The tone of her voice has you reeling back. You watch in disbelief as your cousin reapplies her lipstick through your car vanity mirror. She pops her lips before continuing, “Was he looking at me when I walked away?” Her eyes shine with a gleam of deviltry.
A scoff leaves your lips, and you look away from her. “Yes, he was.” Sadly. “You do realize, you don’t work—let alone volunteer—for a homeless shelter, right?”
“Obviously,” she counters, “But he seemed like the kind to fall for that kind of stuff. So I gave it to him, and it worked. I won’t even need to work a job anymore when I get to live in this big house.” Her hands gesture back to the direction of Gojo’s house before continuing to fix her makeup.
“You don’t even work a job now.” You emphasize with raised eyebrows, and a tilt in your head. “Besides, you rejected him.”
“Yeah,” your cousin responds in a ‘duh’ tone, “That’s probably the first time that’s ever happened since…forever. Trust me…” She trails off while fixing her hair, “I’ll be hearing from him.”
And she did.
The next morning you’re almost leaving your apartment for work when you hear a knock, and find a well dressed Gojo before your eyes. You raise a questioning eyebrow at the sight of his presence.
He eyes you for a little before clearing his throat. “Is your cousin here?” A hesitant tone overtakes his features, studying you for a reaction.
Your heart threatens to drop, but you clear your head before it can. “Yeah.” You respond somberly before continuing, “She’s in her room. I’ll go get her.” You turn around to fetch your cousin but pause mid-turn as a sudden question sweeps into your head. You turn to face him once again in clear confusion.
“How did you know I lived here?” You ask skeptically. Gojo grins confidently, a lazy smile gracing his features, “I know people.”
“That’s reassuring.” You drift away from him after curtly inviting him inside your home, and you watch as he studies your cozy apartment. Zero-ing in on the personal pictures of you you’ve hung up on your bookshelf. A faint hum comes out of him as he studies your pictures intently, memorizing them.
“Aren’t you nosy.” You quip at him teasingly. He turns to look at you with a playful expression. “Well, I find you interesting.”
“Well not interesting enough,” you say, muttering to yourself. “What was that?”
“Nothing.” You say walking away from him to get your cousin.
Everything took off from there. One dinner turned into two, then three, and then more than you could count on two hands. It’s like their love came easy for them, and you could tell by the countless tabloids covering their every move.
From Gojo’s ravenous yacht dates with your cousin, to endless shopping sprees. Everyday a new magazine feature was released to keep the public updated on their love story. But you didn’t need to read them to know how good they were to one another. You could tell by the way they’d gaze at each other, more on Gojo’s part.
She’d come home countless times, with something new to share. Whether it was a new expensive necklace Gojo had bought her, or he took her overseas on a spontaneous trip. You sat there and took it. You were helpless, and all you could do was blindly support her. Encourage their relationship.
And Gojo? He became unstoppable. It was impossible to believe how much better his life got—considering how great it already was. He was amazing on the court, and off the court (so you’ve heard). Your cousin got her wish granted. She could finally sit in the basketball wives section, sporting a new exclusive purse every game. She got the brand deals she always wanted, and a feature on a well known magazine. The paparazzi were so obsessed with them. Oftentimes photographing them on outings, whether it was an exclusive club, or a sweet night out together.
Headlines often portrayed their relationship as anything short of wonderful.
“PACKING IT IN: Gojo Satoru ushers his precious girlfriend into his Mercedes after spending an exhaustive day buying up boutique Manhattan.”
“LOOK OUT!: Gojo Satoru and girlfriend share a sweet kiss at a beach in Bora Bora.”
She got everything she ever wanted, and Gojo wasn’t an exception.
At first it felt like you were drowning. Like you couldn’t escape them, but then acceptance began to settle in.
You were aware of your brief interaction with Gojo. Though it felt like more than that, you realize maybe you’d jump the gun too fast. The way you both clicked that night, maybe you’d imagined his interest in you. Maybe you’d wish so badly for it that it twisted your reality of things. You’d wished to have swept him away the way your cousin did. It hurt to see the man you’d ever truly had a faint interest in slowly fall in love with your cousin. They were just so in love. At least, he thought he was.
But it didn’t matter anyway, it’s not like you knew the guy–beyond just a conversation that lasted hours. Vulnerability leaving you both bare to one another. Gojo wasn’t yours. And now he’ll never be.
You weren’t bitter. No. On the contrary, at first you were upset—granted—, but then you were happy for her. How could you be bitter? You had your own thing going on. It was going to take far more than this to hurt you. Besides, you could just avoid Gojo Satoru, right?
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❝ PROFESSIONAL BASKETBALL PLAYER!GOJO SATORU X PHYSICAL THERAPIST!READER. ❞
SYNOPSIS: After an unexpected encounter with the infamous Gojo Satoru at a local convenience store at 3 A.M. You're given the opportunity to worm your way into his life, but not without a personal invitation from Gojo himself. One thing leads to another, and you're the first person they call when he gets a career-threatening injury, forcing both of you to spend day and night together, but without some obstacles of course: your cousin.
FAN FIC WORD COUNT: 20K+
WARNING TAGS: Modern!AU, no cursed magic, small age gap, Gojo is 30-31, reader is 24-25, hurt/comfort, angst, SLOW-BURN, torn PCL injury (not gojover), gojo lore, alcohol, dumb/clueless gojo, self-assured reader, groveling, nameless reader, nameless cousin, SMUT 18+, oral, penetrative sex, hand jobs, blow jobs, nipple play, pussy eating, fingering, semi-public sex (locker room), vanilla/soft sex, make-up sex, tension, cum eating, squirting, semi-manhandling (consensual), hair pulling, vocal gojo (whimpers/groans/moans), prone-bone position, missionary, doggy, and standing up sex.
STATUS: Ongoing
001 — LONG SHOT : 8K.
↳ 05/02/2024.
002 — 10K
↳ TBA
003 — ENDING : ?K
↳ TBA
TAGLIST : @luvwithau : @sugacor3 : @seajunie :
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Just thinking about how jacks is the Archer from evangeline's favorite story. He was her first crush like imagine your favorite character is real and is also your ONE TRUE LOVE
Cardan:“Kiss me again,” he says, drunk and foolish. “Kiss me until I am sick of it.”
Nikolai Lantsov: "Kiss me Zoya, I need reassurance that you are real and that we survived."
Jacks: "In the morning, you can forget it. You can go back to pretending you don't like me, and I can pretend that I don't care. But for tonight, let me pretend you're mine"
turnnoffyourmind
theartofmadeline
areudirty
blakekathryn
stormborns
