#I thought healing meant becoming that person

[goodgrlguides]

A Good Girl's Guide to Knowing your Self-Worth

You are never and never will be a burden. You need to get it into your head that whatever you do and whatever people tell you, you are not a burden. I've figured through many years of living with parents that do their best but never find that financial stability when it comes to the important things like buying things your children desire, but for buying for others and events, they always have an overflow of money. This thought of being burden originally came to me through all the experiences that made me age faster than I was supposed to and made me feel as though if I asked for anything, I'd immediately be at fault because I'd be like a liability in their lives. It took me a very long time to realise that I am not a burden, nor a liability. Wanting things and asking for things should not be seen as being a burden to your parents, no matter how long it takes for you to get used to it. I still struggle to ask my parents for things and prefer having a steady income and independence so that I can buy and give everything that my inner child ever wanted. Speaking of which, make sure to continually nurture your inner child. In any case where someone feels like they grew up too fast, their inner child is still crying for the attention and the things that you wanted when you were that child, so make sure to take care of her/him and even when you're lacking energy and motivation, use her/him as a point of contact and remember that your inner child needs to be satisfied and healed in order for you to become a better person. On one last note, never ever let people belittle you or make you feel less-than because of how you look, act or even your age. You were made perfectly in the image of God at the right place, time and to the right parents—even if your parents cause you a lot of pain. That pain is meant to grow you, not destroy you. Every trial in your life is a lesson, and that trial will keep repeating itself until you face it. Face what you fear and that fear will turn into courage, even if you face it with your hands and voice shaking, eventually the fear will break off and the courage will replace it.

As always, it was lovely having you and remember, be a good girl.

XOXO, Good Girl Guides.

[theanonymousbooks]

It's amazing how oft times healing doesn't change who you are, but helps you like who are better.

[cybertron-after-dark]

Being constantly surrounded by the presence of a loving God sounds great until you realize you never know when his freaky fuckin eyes are gonna show up to check on you.

And man. They do it a LOT.

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

My hot take is that marcanne has as much potential for toxic yuri as any other calamity trio ship and it's not nearly as soft and fluffy as one may think

[flwrkid14]

Tim Drake’s Unhinged Power Move (ft. Marriage, Ra’s al Ghul, and an Uncomfortable Batfamily)

No one really understood how it started. One moment, Tim Drake was Red Robin—tired, overworked, and fueled by caffeine. The next, he was dropping a bombshell in the middle of a routine debrief:

“Oh, by the way, I married Ra’s al Ghul.”

The room froze.

Dick’s dumbbell hit the floor. Jason choked on his beer. Damian’s sword slipped from his hand. Bruce, staring at Tim like he’d grown a second head, barely managed a strangled, “Tim. What did you do?”

Tim took a sip of his coffee, utterly unfazed. “It’s a power move.”

Jason, wheezing with laughter: “Oh my god. You married Ra’s out of spite? Replacement, I’ve never been prouder.”

Tim smirked. “Something like that.”

-----------

It wasn’t really spite.

Ra’s had been obsessed with him for years. The offers of succession, the constant attempts to lure him to the League—it was never-ending. Tim was tired. Tired of being hunted, tired of the games. So, one day, he called Ra’s’ bluff. If Ra’s wanted him so badly, he’d have to deal with all that came with it. Including Tim’s unrelenting need for control.

Ra’s agreed.

And just like that, Tim Drake became the most terrifying in-law the batfamily had ever seen.

-----------

Talia didn’t know what to think at first.

She’d seen it all before—people manipulated by Ra’s, twisted into tools for his will. But Tim? He didn’t play by those rules. He sat at Ra’s’ desk, sifting through League reports like they were Gotham case files. He didn’t bark orders; he made suggestions. And then, the soup happened.

Talia returned from a mission, bruised and exhausted. Tim, barely looking up from his paperwork, said, “Sit. You’re hurt.”

She scoffed. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity. It’s soup.”

Talia stared. “Why?”

Tim shrugged. “You looked like you needed it.”

It became a routine. She’d return from missions, and Tim would be there. Not with judgment. Not with manipulation. Just quiet support. He listened. He offered advice. He treated her like a person, not a pawn.

Somehow, they started having regular bonding time. Shopping trips. Quiet conversations on the balcony. Tim became a person Talia could trust—a concept she hadn’t believed possible.

-----------

Damian was losing his mind.

“Drake!” he hissed, cornering Tim in the Batcave. “You’ve… corrupted my mother!”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Corrupted? She’s thriving.”

“She smiles at you!”

“I’m very charming.”

Damian’s finger trembled as he pointed. “This makes you… my grandmother.”

Tim smirked. “Respect your elders, grandson.”

“I REFUSE!”

-----------

Bruce was spiraling.

“Tim, this is dangerous.”

“Relax,” Tim replied, sipping his coffee. “I’ve got it under control.”

“You married one of our greatest enemies!”

“Think of it as an undercover op,” Tim said, voice calm and unyielding. “I’m playing the long game.”

Jason, from the sidelines, grinned. “He’s playing 4D chess, and you’re still on checkers.”

-----------

The Real Chaos?

Tim didn’t marry Ra’s to make him happy. Hell no. If anything, it made Tim sick to his stomach knowing Ra’s was smug about it. But if putting up with Ra’s al Ghul meant protecting Talia, stabilizing the League, and giving Damian a family that didn’t break apart at the seams?

He’d endure.

Because Talia was healing. Damian’s mother was smiling. And Ra’s… well, Ra’s thought he’d won.

But the real winner? Tim Drake.

Gotham’s most unhinged vigilante had just become the League of Assassins’ terrifying step-parent. And honestly? It suited him.

-----------

Damian, whispering to Alfred: “I need… therapy.” Alfred: “We all do, Master Damian. We all do.”

[yougavememyopia]

Loser yandere, who is so desperate that he would do anything for your attention. No matter how humiliating.

He'd make sure to "accidentally" fall down in front of you so you help him up. You have to! It's what any person would do.

He'd put on an extra dramatic act for you. Pretending he injured his ankle really badly. Crying his heart out. He'd make you feel like a hero who saved the day.

You become his friend after helping him heal, spending the entire day with him. Of course, he'd do something for you to make up for occupying your time. Buy your favorite foods or give you small gifts.

After a while, he only became more annoying with his tactics. He'd become more confident. Not afraid to get caught lying.

"Ow, a paper cut. It hurts so bad... Can you kiss it better?"

"My shoulders feel so tense... Can you message them for me? Please?"

"I think my hair is all tangled. Can you run your hands through them? It'll soothe the pain..."

He'll start whining about how he's never had his first kiss before. What a loser. But you were his friend, you could teach him, right?

You rejected him. You thought he was dumb, clumsy, and lacked severe social awareness.

"Just one kiss! Please. Please. Please. Please. Pretty please. Pretty pleaseeee~"

"No. I already told you that kisses need to have intentions."

"And the intention is that... I learn."

"That's not what I meant-"

"Nooo! Come on.."

He opens his mouth to probably whine more. And you've had enough.

You push your fingers in his mouth. You don't really know how it happened, but his mouth swallowed around them. The feeling of his warm mouth against your skin felt good. You didn't lose composure. You were annoyed. Glad to finally quiet him down.

"Shut. Up. Shut up. For fuck's sake, it's been half an hour!"

He whimpers against your fingers. The feeling of your fingers in his mouth made him feel euphoric. Just as you were about to pull them out, he began to suck. His eyes were half-lidden as they looked into yours. It was as if he was begging for more.

"What the hell are you doing?" You tried to yank back your hand, but he grabbed your wrist. A pained moan escaped him. As if pulling out your fingers would physically hurt him.

"Nnmh.." He sucks greedily at your skin, licking in-between your fingers.

"Ugh, you're disgusting! What's gotten into you?" You forcibly take your fingers out, yanking your wrist out of his grasp.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I just.. I just- Um.. I panicked? I thought you wanted me to do it! I didn't know how else to respond..."

What was he supposed to say? He couldn't think of anything. He'd lower himself down on his knees, look up at you, and beg for forgiveness. All he knew was how to humilate himself after all.

Pt. 2.

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

astro thoughts - short n sweet <3 pluto in the house

Pluto in the 1st house - Very strong auras. Could deliberately see through bs a mile away. Not gifted in being friendly, lol just kidding. Their not 'nice' though. And they don't have to be. They don't like faking the funk so this pretty much gives them an interesting outlook on people and they way they see themselves. Can shift the whole room with just their magic. Can be very intimidating to some, but very inspiring to others.

Pluto in the 2nd house - Could have financial issues from time to time. Not likely to say the same thing twice, if they said it once they meant it. Dont bother them again about it. These individuals can use their psychic senses to make money if that is what they wish, they could be very therapeutic to say the least. Give em a chance, they really wouldn't hurt a fly.

Pluto in the 3rd house - There speech is very compelling. They could hold a room with just their words and it could open the minds of a few listening to them. They have a gift in impacting you with just the way that they think, making you beg for more each day at a time.

Pluto in the 4th house - Could of had a transformative experience at home and I don't mean that nicely. There are somethings that should be left unsaid but sometimes things need a reawakening. They don't seem to let things go here.. but why would they? There past is like a haunting story awaiting to be unraveled just so you can piece together the puzzles that we're left unfinished. They are quiet when it comes to their personal life and hide themselves from the world so that you won't get an inkling of what truly is masked behind the bushes.

Pluto in the 5th house - Very deep bonds with their art work and can do a performance like no other. They will have you feeling every bit of emotion in their vibration just to help you feel what the character is feeling. I noticed there are a lot of good actors with this placement. Anywho, they have a powerful presence and when it comes to dating them or even just experiencing them for a little while it can be a transformative, healing experience for people involved with them.

Pluto in the 6th house - Like their martians mates in the 6th house, these people can have a pretty interesting experience here. They have a tendency to be obsessive over what they want so they work as much as they can until the wheels falls off. This could become a problem if they don't think to chill out on working and sacrificing their well being for something out side of themself.

Pluto in the 7th house - Deep, penetrating raw auras. Could be self-reflective on the way they see things, themselves , others and just the world at large. They have a gift of discernment but most of them never use the gift and can get caught up into the wrong things sometimes. There is more than what meets the eye with these individuals. They never let others in so easily, sometimes they're worth the wait. ;)

Pluto in the 8th house - Really good at seeing through things that others just can't seem to pick up on. Really gifted in occult sciences. Have issues with commitment and could have trouble with individuals because of traumatic experiences in past lives or current one. Could have people who want to be around them just to unravel them, but not really want to be with them. Have a very mysterious presence, hard to read.

Pluto in the 9th house - Very interesting and their thoughts can penetrate the mind in so many ways. They will leave you speechless when its all over. They travel to different places all the time but they are pretty good at finding places that match their flow, and love ot bring anyone along for the ride. There just a different layer to them that no one really knows how to explain, but its a gift that keeps giving.

Pluto in the 10th house - Woah. Thats the word to describe em. Its their touch and raw auras that keep you on your knees. VERY strong personas and do not like being talked down on. Could use their experiences/circumstances to their advantage. Gifted and seeing beyond what no one wants to believe is true. They can have the world if they know they got it in them already. Hard headed but gets to the bag with just their two feet. No one else can beat them at their own game.

Pluto in the 11th house - Whew. These people have a spell on the people that no other pluto house placement can compete with. The issue is these people don't know how to use that power but thats not all that bad. They can have people do things for them because something about them just makes people want to do things for them.

Pluto in the 12th house - very odd things comes out of the mind with these individuals. The subconscious/dream world is the most important part of their day to day because it rules the present in a way that cant be controlled but must be felt. How are you doing living a life that no one seems to live? It seems like they are all alone, but the world is calling for them to give them all the answers.

Talk to me in the comments, let me know how yall feelin! <3

[thecameronchronicles]

Heat of The Moment

TW: unhinged Rafe. Dominant sex. Dirty talk. Language. Oral sex. Hair pulling. Cum swallowing.

REQUESTED:

@gianadrichardson-blog

So the idea I have in my mind is that y/n and Rafe are dating and Rafe KNOWS that every guy wants y/n from tourons, college guys and even his best friends want her. So while y/n was out of town with her parents, Topper accidentally revealed that he had feelings for y/n and tried to date her while her and Rafe was in the talking stage. So Rafe calls y/n and sees where she at. When Rafe gets y/n location he shows up and let out his frustration he had and record them having sex with y/n then send to topper with the message “keep away from my girl”

Maybe y/n older brother have y/n phone and decided to play a prank on rafe acting like a guy had y/n phone

Heat of the Moment

"What the fuck, Top?!" Rafe accuses, holding Topper's phone high enough out of reach. But your pictures remain on the screen. More specifically, pictures the friend of your boyfriend shouldn't have.

"I- just stop it, man-"

"My girlfriend's tits are on your screen! What am I supposed to think?"

"She's in a bikini but it it doesn't matter okay? Just-just let me have it back." But Rafe smashes it before Topper can even brush his fingers against it. His finger is pointed in his former friend's face before he can right Rafe's actions that he believes wholeheartedly are justified.

"Rafe. When you and her were just talking, I...I thought I had a shot. I get that now, okay? I just, sometimes I wonder what if-"

"If I even see you looking at her after this, you won't be able to ever look again."

Rafe was already fuming. He was jealous and curious, both existing to a dangerous degree that meant his knuckles were bloodied more than healed and his voice hoarse from having defended you.

There wasn't a soul within a dramatic radius within the Outer Banks that didn't see your beauty. Whether it was the stunning way your eyes could focus and become instantly lustful with one look at your boyfriend or the way your voice warmed even the coldest of hearts, Rafe Cameron knew exactly what he had.

Perfection.

He just didn't expect to have to have to defend you to someone so close to him- someone who has apparently had feelings for you since before you were officially anything with Rafe. It makes his hands wrap tightly around the steering wheel and his foot practically punch a hole into the floor of his truck as he races across the Carolina road.

He never thought he left it to question. You were his. He was yours. It was as official as it could be without a ring or contract of marriage and yet he knew he needed to make it unquestionably true to the one person it mattered to.

So without a call or text in warning, he is pounding at your front door.

"Rafe? Are you okay baby, you-" He is over your threshold, face between your hands, your body pulled into his as he kisses you between words.

"You know I love you, yeah?" You nod with your hands coming up around his wrists. If you didn't trust him so gravely then you'd worry for the strength behind his hands as he brought you against him.

"You know I'd do anything for you?" He kisses with a grunt, more animal than the man you talked to earlier this morning.

"And that you say our word and it stops, no questions asked? That you know I put you first?" His forehead rests against yours as he waits for your agreement. It takes less than the time of a blink before he gets it.

"Good, remember that because I'm about to fuck you like I hate you." He lifts you around him and up your steps, suddenly too far away from your room.

You were the complete opposite of touch starved and yet you felt as if you had been drowning without his touch, the first moment of contact being an exhale for relief. Only in the juxtaposition that was being his girlfriend it also made you lightheaded.

"Rafe-" His hand comes up over your mouth as he only manages to get to the steps and turns you to cover them. Your knees dig into the uncomfortable wood and yet all you can focus on is the heat of the moment.

"Need to use that word, baby?"

You shake your head as he guides your hands around the open spaces between the bars making up your bannister.

"Then hold on." His belt sounds first and then the rough fabric of his pants being shoved.

"Jesus Christ, baby, I don't even need to spit on my cock, so I?" He leans over you, kicking your legs just wide enough to leave some comfort in the angle. "Always so wet for me isn't that right?"

"Always!" You moan into his hand as he grins against your shoulder before reaching into his pocket.

You hear the wrapper of the confom being torn and make the mistake to turn and see him do it with his teeth. Something about the savagery of it and the heat behind his eyes, still possessing your care above all else, and it sends you drenching the valley awaiting him.

"Safe and-" He moans, a deep honey tone, that makes your toes curl knowing you wrap around him snuggly enough to cause such a reaction.

"Tight, baby! Fuck!" He hits the stairs beside your cheek and yet it does nothing to limit anything. If anything, it spurs you both on as his other hand releases your mouth and you're able to kiss the skin of his fist as if to soften his rigidity.

"How are you so sweet AND sexy-hmm? Always know just what I need don't you baby?" Your body wills itself to endure all that is Rafe Cameron. Every tension soiling his happiness now pumping through every snap of his hips until all that remains is the frustration you know he veils from you. Still, you trust that every shove of him into you is only a method of showing you he cares.

However, it has never been quite this possessive before. Quite this needy. Quite this deep or hard.

And you fucking love it.

His hands can't move fast enough and yet they are graceful and not amateur. He rolls your nipples as he kisses your neck, thrusting without break, and whispering every dirty thought you have constructed in your time apart.

And then he becomes completely and utterly unhinged. Taking you in his lap, he pulls you facing away from him, still seated to the root. He bounces you, one hand around your neck, as the other rubs your clit. It can't be comfortable for him with the wood beneath you and still he is too driven by the cries you're making in the sound of his name to care about anything but this next thrust-or the dozens that follow.

"Nobody knows just how dirty you get for me, isn't that right baby? How deep you take my dick in this perfect little pussy? Yeah?" He slaps your clit with just enough pressure to make you jolt until he lifts his hips and makes you forget of the sting it leaves behind.

"How loud you get? It's a miracle nobody has called the cops yet. You sound like you're in pain, shit-" He turns you to him with the grip around your neck moving to your jaw and turning you to him.

"You good baby?"

"Harder-"

"That's my fucking girl?" You're lifted with a gasp following you as he takes you into your room. You are only allowed the reprieve of wood beneath your soles for a second before he's rutting you into the bed. Hand pushing your face into the sheets to somewhat muffle your screaming, all you hear is the repetitive "yeah"s in the mix of your name as he wallows in you.

"Do I have to worry about anyone else ever knowing about how good you feel?" You are torn away from your blissful daze at the question.

"What?" You turn and face him, seeing the phone pointed towards you. The heat from your skin accelerated until it is now the marrow in your bones and you can't cool it, not that you want to.

"Who fucks you deep enough to make you soak his cock like this?"

"Rafe!" You manage as he pulls your hair and makes your back arch for him.

"Who makes you dizzy and shit when he knows just where to hit?"

He pulls you to him, against his chest until you can look up at him.

"Who loves you enough to prove to everyone on this goddamn island you're his?! Huh?"

"RAFE! GOD! YOU, RAFE?" You sob, the pleasure almost painful as he grips your hip with one hand and keeps the phone recording in the other. The video is shaky and then disposed of as his cum begins to shoot from his heavy balls and up his shaft.

"On your knees, baby-" He takes the phone back, pointing it to your face. As always, he kisses you sweetly and runs a thumb over your lips, before you take him behind your smirk.

"Ohhh baby-" You accept him slowly before opening your throat to him. Eyes locked and cheeks prepped to be hollow, you wait as he cocks his head before powering through. He thrusts.

Twice.

Once.

And then becomes a blur.

Only grunts and 'fucks' leave between moans.

"Shit baby, you're gonna make me come- you want it?" He asks, managing to open his eyes long enough to see you nod. Digging your nails into his thighs, you drive him to pulse into your throat, over your tongue, and along with your swallow.

"Open-" he points the camera to show just the good girl you are.

"I fucking love you, baby, and now nobody will question who you belong to again."

"I don't think they do, Rafe..." You laugh it off as he helps you to your feet and into his arms within your bed.

As you fall asleep, you hear him tapping away on his phone before finally focusing completely on you. You rest well within his arms, satisfied in the countless orgasms you had as he reached his own, sweet dreams awaiting you that pale in comparison to what it means to be loved by Rafe.

Across town, Topper's phone buzzes. A video file from Rafe. The new phone, bought not even ten minutes after his last one was smashed sits in wait for the message.

MP4 file.

It is opened. The sound of slurping around the impressive shaft, angry and near completion is spliced with the sight of you spread for him on the stairs as well as the hip of the bed. Your cries are only of pleasure and they echo as the video plays.

"Stay away from my girl." Comes a warning meant for Topper.

Only it isn't Topper's eyes that come to the scene.

And it isn't Topper's life that gets the threat.

It is your brother's and he has just been waiting for an excuse to let out his own rage out against Rafe.

MASTERLIST

[cuntyji]

THE FOOL’S GUIDE TO ROMANCE ౨ৎ GETO SUGURU X READER

synopsis: when a man loves a woman, he might bring her flowers or send a sweet text like 'i want you lol.' but if you’re suguru geto, you let a deck of tarot cards decide your destiny—and promptly shuffle your way into misery. hopelessly in love with you (and equally hopeless at expressing it), geto takes his shot which backfires spectacularly, leaving you heartbroken and him scrambling to fix it. now, armed with charm, determination, and way too many tarot cards, geto is ready to heal your heart. just watch your step—the floor’s basically a tarot card crime scene.

content warnings: female reader, suggestive content (alcohol consumption and mentions of weed), crack and romance, somewhat axed [happy] ending, college setting, geto is into tarot, strangers to lovers, he fell first she fell harder, frat parties and other college nonsense. other characters: choso, yuki, gojo, nanami, shiu, toji. 

author's note: all my love to my darling @nkopurin who helped proofread this fic for me 💘💐 and to my lovely @norikuna and @baepsays, this is for you 🙂‍↕️ lovely themed dividers are courtesy of @thecutestgrotto <3

READ ON AO3

when a man loves a woman, he brings her flowers and confesses his love to her. or, if he’s born in the modern world, he might just text her something eloquent like, “hey, i want you lol.” but if you’re suguru geto, you let tarot cards take the wheel—literally. 

allow one to explain.

see, geto isn’t exactly an atheist. he believes in higher powers, just unconventional ones. namely, the cheapest tarot deck he impulse-bought during a 2 a.m. existential crisis. initially, he thought it was all nonsense until he pulled a random card one day, and boom—it was the tower. later that week, his microwave exploded. 

from then on, he never questioned the cards again.

fast-forward to now: geto has become a full-blown tarot enthusiast. not only does he offer readings for spare cash (because be so for real right now, enlightenment isn’t free), but he also uses the cards to make most of his decisions. thinking of switching shampoo brands? better pull a card. deciding between ramen or sushi for dinner? the hanged man says to wait and order nothing—oops, now he’s just hungry. naturally, he consults the cards for the big things too—like love. and this is where you come in.

he met you at the library. a rom-com-level meet-cute where you helped him pick up the stack of books he’d dropped because he was too busy arguing with a ten of swords card about whether his day was ruined or just mildly inconvenient. from that moment on, you became his muse, his star (literally, he pulled that card the next day and nearly fainted). but here’s the catch: geto doesn’t just pine over you in the normal way. no, no. every interaction with you has to be sanctioned by the cards first.

want to say hi? better shuffle the deck and see if the lovers comes up. want to ask you out? he needs at least the sun for good vibes and the two of cups for confirmation. unfortunately, his last reading told him to “embrace patience” because the hermit popped up—twice. 

to his credit, geto is fully committed to this tarot lifestyle. he even gets creative with the interpretations. one time, the cards said he’d encounter a "pig," which he thought meant an actual pet pig was coming his way. turns out, it was just pork belly ramen.  but let’s get back to you. every time he sees you, he tries to decipher what the cards are trying to tell him. are you his queen of cups, emotionally available and empathetic? or are you secretly the high priestess, hiding mysteries he’s yet to uncover? (spoiler: you’re just a normal person trying to borrow a book, but he doesn’t know that.)

but let’s take a moment to shift focus from our friendly neighborhood king of wands (that’s geto, by the way, for the tarot illiterate) and zero in on you. because, bless your heart, you’ve got no time for the mystical nonsense of divination.

it’s not that you hate tarot or people who swear by it. it’s just… it’s never worked for you. every time a flower-crown-wearing oracle pops up on your fyp, telling you to “like, comment, and share this reading so the universe will bless you with abundance and good fortune,” you do it. and guess what? the universe does not bless you. no windfall of cash, no twin flame reunion, and absolutely no lucky day on the horizon. instead, you’re stuck in a perpetual cycle of disappointment and thinking, am i cursed? or is this just capitalism?

so, when you bump into a guy muttering about the ten of swords in the college library, the sheer absurdity of the moment almost makes you laugh out loud. you help him pick up his books from the floor (because you’re not a monster), all while internally rolling your eyes. who even takes tarot this seriously? your brain whispers. but hey, it’s not like you’re ever going to see this weirdo again, right?

wrong.

enter the house party. directed by none other than the notorious gojo satoru, who probably pulled the fool for party planning and ran with it. naturally, the entire student body is there, including you, begrudgingly clutching a cup of what is probably alcohol but tastes like regret. you’re halfway through debating whether it’s worth sticking around when you spot him. yes, him. the library lad. and if you thought he was strange before, tonight he’s decked out in what can only be described as a “witchy” fit, complete with crystal necklaces and the kind of rings that scream don’t ask me about my birth chart unless you’re ready for a dissertation.

you’re just about to turn and flee when, of course, he spots you. he lights up like the sun card upright, and you can see the moment he decides to approach. fantastic. this is your life now. “hey,” he says, and you can tell he’s trying to act cool. “do you believe in fate?”

oh, for the love of—

“no,” you deadpan, taking a sip of your regret juice. “but i do believe in bad luck, which is what brought me here tonight.” he laughs, and to your horror, it’s kinda cute. “well, maybe that’s just the wheel of fortune turning. what goes down must come up.”

you raise an eyebrow. “is that tarot-speak for ‘this party sucks’?”

“more like, ‘the spirits sent me here for a reason,’” he replies, holding up a deck of tarot cards like they’re his personal VIP pass. you groan, wondering if this is punishment for every time you ignored those scammy fyp readings. the universe works in mysterious (and frankly annoying) ways.

-

first off, geto would like to dedicate this evening’s award for “biggest asshole” to his childhood friend and eternal tormentor, gojo satoru, who claimed this was a fancy dress party. yes, fancy dress. not a house party. and like an idiot, geto believed him. hence the ensemble: the crystal necklaces, the dramatic rings, the black turtleneck that screamed “mystical bachelor #1.” he looked like halloween and a witch convention had a messy breakup and he was the collateral damage. and the kicker? the tarot cards stuffed into his bag. because apparently, those were his ticket into this party. gojo had threatened—no, promised—that he’d bar geto from entering his own damn best friend’s party unless he showed up prepared to do discounted tarot readings. because nothing screams “good fortune” like drunken frat boys demanding to know their future while spilling beer on your king of pentacles.

but before geto can fully spiral into regret, he spots you. you, across the room, holding a red solo cup like it’s your last lifeline in a sea of chaos. suddenly, the LED strip lights above seem to beam down like the sun on its brightest spring day, and he’s pretty sure he hears birds chirping (which is actually just gojo’s bose speaker blasting some god-awful remix). in this moment, geto feels something he hasn’t felt in a while: hope.

then he opens his mouth.

“the spirits sent me here for a reason,” he blurts out, voice brimming with… what’s the opposite of confidence? panic? regret? whatever it is, it’s not working.

he sees your eyebrow twitch. not raise—twitch. your eyes dart everywhere but at him, and he feels the metaphorical ten of swords stab his pride, one blade at a time. internally, his brain is screaming: really? “the spirits”? you couldn’t think of anything cooler? oh my god, you’re a loser. loser, loser, loser.

before he can even try to recover from the self-inflicted verbal disaster, the karaoke mic crackles to life, and a familiar voice echoes through the room. “geto suguru, report to the center hall!” gojo’s voice booms, loud and obnoxious. “your clients are waiting, my guy!”

clients? oh no.

geto freezes. you glance at him, your expression hovering somewhere between pity and mild secondhand embarrassment. internally, he’s spiraling: clients!? oh great. perfect. now i get to embarrass myself in front of you and half the drunk population of campus.

“don’t keep us waiting, mr. magician!” gojo cackles, clearly delighted with himself. geto trudges toward the center of the room, tarot cards in hand, sending a silent prayer to the universe: dear spirits, if you’re real, strike gojo down with lightning. or at least make him choke on his stupid mic cord. please. but no lightning comes. only more LED lights and the weight of his own humiliation.

the music screeched to an abrupt halt, cutting off mid-beat to usher in what gojo dramatically called “the immersive experience.” 

immersive, my ass, geto thought bitterly, sneaking a glare at his white-haired tormentor. to make matters worse, gojo was now skulking over by the speaker, queuing up redbone by childish gambino, apparently convinced it was the anthem for “spooky tarot vibes.” geto’s fingers itched to throw the nearest ashtray at gojo’s ridiculously smug face but, alas, violence would have to wait. he had a job to do, courtesy of said smug face.

as he settled at the glorified low-rise table-turned-“dias,” he noticed a mix of amused faces, skeptical stares, and outright curiosity from the crowd. and among them, there was you. hovering near the edge, arms crossed, your expression was a mix of intrigue and i’m too cool for this but let’s see what happens anyway. and because geto was both cursed and stupid, he immediately started overthinking: wait, why are you here? are you here to judge me? no, that’s dumb. maybe you’re into tarot. oh god, what if you’re into tarot? does that make us soulmates? focus, suguru.

“first victim—i mean guest, is… nanamiiinnn kenntoooo!” gojo’s voice boomed through the mic, dragging geto out of his internal spiral. and lo and behold, it was nanami himself. 

nanami kento, aka mr. ‘i-wear-a-suit-to-class,’ the guy who looked like he’d walked straight out of a finance magazine and into a frat party by accident. the fact that nanami was even here was baffling, but rumor had it he helped budget this whole thing. (which explained the alcohol tasting suspiciously cheap, considering half the budget went into walnuts being served as snacks.) he approached the table like he was heading into a board meeting, eyes sharp, posture straighter than an arrow. the man looked ready to audit geto’s soul. 

as nanami sat down for his reading, his usual stoic expression firmly in place, geto shuffled the deck with practiced ease. “to make this as accurate as possible,” geto began, trying to match nanami’s serious tone, “it’s best if you touch the deck briefly. it helps with energy transfer.”

nanami raised a skeptical eyebrow but reached out, his hand hovering over the cards for a moment before he placed two fingers lightly on the top of the deck. the touch was so precise and deliberate that it looked more like he was testing the temperature of a cup of tea than connecting with his fate. geto suppressed a grin. “wow, nanami, really channeling all that emotional investment.”

“i don’t make a habit of emotionally investing in cards,” nanami replied dryly, retracting his hand. “if this reading goes poorly, i’ll hold you accountable, not the deck.”

“well, if the spirits hear that,” geto quipped, starting to lay the cards out, “they’re going to make sure your future includes nothing but overripe bananas and missed train schedules.”

“you’re lucky i don’t believe in spirits,” nanami deadpanned, though his gaze flicked to the first card with the faintest hint of curiosity.

“alright,” geto said, forcing a grin as he shuffled his deck. “what can i do for you? career? love life? deep existential crisis?”

“career,” nanami replied crisply, sitting down on one of the pillows like it was a very uncomfortable chair.

“classic.” geto nodded, laying the deck out for nanami to cut. “alright, the cards are ready to speak. let’s see what the spirits have in store for you.” as he flipped the first card, geto’s brain scrambled to process the sight: three of pentacles. okay, teamwork, collaboration. he could work with this.

“looks like you’re about to enter a new partnership,” geto said, his voice smooth and confident. “something involving… hard work, shared goals… a passion project, maybe?” nanami raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, geto panicked. was this guy about to call him out as a fraud? but then, the second card came up: the empress. geto let out a quiet sigh of relief. 

“ah, abundance,” he continued, leaning into his role. “this project? it’s going to bring a lot of growth. creativity, maybe even something related to… food?” he hesitated for a split second before committing. “yeah, i’m seeing something culinary. like a bakery or—”

“a bakery?” nanami interrupted, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly.

geto froze. oh no. did he just completely miss the mark?

“uh… yes, a bakery,” he repeated, trying to sound confident. “does that resonate?”

nanami stared at him for a moment, then nodded. slowly. 

“i’ve just started working part-time at a french bakery near campus.”

the room exploded. people started laughing, cheering, and hollering like geto had just predicted the apocalypse. even you, standing at the edge of the crowd, cracked a smile. geto barely kept his jaw from dropping. internally, he was screaming: no fucking way. i pulled that out of my ass. oh my god. the spirits are real. nanami, ever composed, simply stood, nodded once in approval, and walked off like this was just another day in the life of kento “bakery boy” nanami.

as the crowd settled down, geto slumped in his seat, trying to recover. his mind raced: okay, that went better than expected. maybe i can survive this. maybe even impress you. wait, are you impressed? i need to see if you’re impressed. he glanced at you, and there it was—that little amused smile, like you couldn’t believe what you’d just witnessed. and for the first time all night, geto felt like maybe he wasn’t a total loser.

the next poor soul—or menace, really—was shiu kong. and shiu, being no better than any average man, sauntered up to the makeshift “dias” with a cigarette dangling from his lips and promptly dumped all the ash from it onto geto’s carefully shuffled deck. geto froze mid-shuffle, staring down at his now-defiled cards like they’d been personally insulted. internally, he was screaming: did you seriously just ashen my pentacles? oh my god, shiu, i hope the spirits tell you your house will get haunted.

“relax, geto,” shiu drawled, clearly enjoying himself. “it’s just a little ash. adds character.”

“yeah? well, let’s see what the spirits think about your ‘character,’” geto muttered, giving the cards a mournful dust-off before proceeding. the first card flipped: the devil. oh, the irony.

“so,” geto began, deadpan, “looks like you’ve got some… business ventures coming up. something a little… unconventional?” the crowd leaned in, murmuring in anticipation. shiu raised an eyebrow, amused but also intrigued.

geto flipped the second card: the seven of cups.

“choices,” he said, tapping the card for effect. “you’ve got a lot of options ahead of you. but, uh… not all of them are exactly moral. or legal.” the crowd erupted, half in laughter, half in knowing cheers. shiu smirked, leaning back like he was the main character in a crime drama. “huh,” he said, feigning innocence. “well, that’s interesting.” 

but when geto flipped the third card—the ace of pentacles—the room lost it. “looks like this… uh, deal is going to be quite lucrative,” geto said, trying to keep a straight face.

the crowd howled, people slapping their knees and hollering like this was the best stand-up routine they’d ever seen. gojo, however, had to be physically restrained by nanami and two others as he lunged at shiu, shouting, “WHERE IS IT, SHIU? TELL ME WHERE THE GREEN GODDESS LIVES!”

shiu simply winked, flicked his cigarette butt into an ashtray (finally), and strolled off the dias like a kingpin leaving his empire.

next up was toji zenin, a man so laid-back and unbothered he might as well have been horizontal. he approached the table with all the grace of a lion stalking prey, cracking his neck as he dropped onto the pillow like he’d been asked to fight someone instead of getting his fortune read. “alright, zenin,” geto said, shuffling the cards. “what do you want to know? career? love life? existential dread?”

“future,” toji replied simply, his deep voice making it sound way cooler than it had any right to.

the first card: the lovers.

“interesting,” geto said, glancing up at toji. “looks like there’s a big relationship in your future. something life-changing.”

toji smirked. “yeah? tell me more.”

geto flipped the second card: the sun.

“oh wow,” geto muttered, mostly to himself. “this relationship is going to bring you a lot of joy. looks like… a family, maybe? marriage?”

the crowd oohed, leaning in closer.

and then came the third card: the tower.

“oh,” geto said, pausing. “uh, okay. so, there might be some… challenges along the way. upheaval. a few bumps in the road.”

toji just shrugged. “i’ll handle it.”

the crowd cheered, someone shouting, “family man!” as toji stood, looking oddly pleased with himself. geto sat back, shaking his head. spirits, give me strength.

just as the crowd began to settle, gojo, ever the dramatic shit-stirrer, snatched the mic again. “ladies and gentlemen, we’ve saved the best for last!” he boomed, pointing a very theatrical finger in your direction. 

“YOU! come on down!”

the entire room turned to stare at you, and suddenly, you were the main character in your own personal nightmare. “uh, no thanks,” you called back, waving him off. but gojo was having none of it. “don’t be shy! the spirits are calling for you! geto, back me up here!” geto, caught off guard, looked at you and then back at gojo. “uh…” he started, scratching the back of his neck. you sighed, muttering a quiet curse under your breath as you made your way to the “dias,” your steps heavy with regret. this was going to be great.

as you made your way to the dias, geto felt his life flash before his eyes—not the whole thing, mind you, just the highlights: stumbling across the cheapest tarot deck at 2 a.m. during a sleep-deprived existential crisis, spiraling into a tarot obsession because he accidentally predicted his microwave exploding, and somehow ending up here, in this exact moment, facing you, the literal love of his life, thanks to gojo’s meddling. screw the power of friendship, he thought bitterly. his “friend” was the reason he was sitting cross-legged on a glorified coffee table, dressed like the head of a coven, with his dignity hanging by a single thread.

but then it hit him. wait… can i rig this reading?

the idea was tempting. he could just “interpret” the cards however he wanted. twist the results. make it seem like the spirits themselves were shipping the two of you.

except.

except.

he winced, imagining the sheer karmic hell that would rain down upon him if he tried to scam the spirits. knowing his luck, they’d make him the next hanged man—literally. so, when you finally sat down across from him and asked, casually, for a love reading (a LOVE reading????), geto swallowed hard and prayed to every higher power he could think of that the cards would be merciful.

the first card flipped: the knight of cups.

okay, not bad.

“so,” geto began, trying to sound confident and not like he was screaming internally. “the knight of cups suggests a romantic figure in your life. someone… sensitive, charming, maybe a little dreamy. they could be coming towards you—or they’re already here.” he glanced up at you, hoping for some kind of reaction, but you were too busy looking over at…

wait a second.

you weren’t looking at him. you were looking at… choso.

his heart sank. oh, you have got to be kidding me.

to be fair, he sort of understood the confusion. both he and choso had long dark hair (his sleek and tied back, choso’s styled into two distinct buns that somehow worked), and they were both tall with a quiet, brooding vibe. but choso? really?

before he could process the betrayal, he flipped the second card: the star.

“ah,” he said, forcing himself to focus. “the star indicates hope and inspiration. this person might bring healing into your life. they’re someone who stands out, who you’re drawn to in a special way.” again, your gaze flicked to choso, who was sitting across the room with his arms crossed, looking like a goth prince brooding over an edgar allan poe poem.

dear spirits, are you messing with me on purpose?

and then came the third card: the two of cups.

geto’s hands nearly slipped. oh, come on.

“the two of cups,” he said, clearing his throat. “this is… uh… a card of partnership. mutual feelings. a connection that could grow into something deeper.”

your eyes lit up. “wow, that’s so accurate!”

his heart soared for half a second before you turned to your friend and whispered, not so quietly, “do you think he means choso?”

geto’s soul left his body.

what part of ‘sensitive and charming’ screams choso?! he wanted to yell. okay, sure, the guy had his moments, but choso’s idea of romantic charm was probably something like offering someone his last cup of ramen without saying a word. to make matters worse, choso, sensing the attention, looked up from where he was sitting. his head tilted slightly, a single brow raised in confusion, and—oh, god—he gave you a small nod.

no, no, no, don’t encourage this! geto thought, panicking.

“well,” he said, attempting to recover, “the cards are open to interpretation. sometimes they’re symbolic, pointing to qualities rather than an exact person…”

but you weren’t listening anymore, too busy whispering excitedly to your friend about how much sense this all made. meanwhile, geto sat there, defeated, mentally drafting a resignation letter to the spirits. dear divine forces, i quit. i can’t do this anymore. please find someone else to deal with my romantic disasters. sincerely, suguru geto.

the next morning felt like the world had been retextured to ultra-HD. the sun was shining like it got a promotion, the birds outside your window sounded like they’d formed a symphony orchestra, and even the butter on your toast tasted like it had been hand-churned by angels. why was everything so ridiculously perfect? simple: for once in your life, a tarot reading seemed to have gone your way. your love life, once a barren wasteland of missed connections and unrequited crushes, was now looking up—looking up directly at choso kamo, the brooding star of your medieval and renaissance literature class.

sure, you’d had what the kids these days call a “hallway crush” on choso for a while. the kind of harmless admiration where you’d see him across the hall, brooding next to a window like he was in a gothic novel, and think, huh, i wouldn’t mind being the mysterious backstory to his tragic antihero arc. but a relationship? oh no, that felt too bold. too ambitious. 

and yet here you were, butter molecules dissolving on your tongue, entertaining the idea that maybe this could be something real. it’s fate, you thought, smiling to yourself. the cards said so. who am i to argue with the universe?

your mind briefly flickered to last night. specifically to geto, who had looked like someone had popped all four tires on his emotional vehicle. his expression after your reading had been a mix of “i just dropped my ice cream cone” and “my goldfish got flushed before i could say goodbye.”

but that wasn’t your problem, right? he probably just felt left out or jealous that your reading turned out so great. or maybe he was tired from all the readings he had to do. surely it had nothing to do with you personally, right? 

…right?

right.

well, no matter. you couldn’t spend your morning thinking about someone you weren’t even going to see again. which is precisely when karma, fate, or the universe—take your pick—decided to slap you across the face with irony.

enter medieval and renaissance literature class.

you strolled into class, head high, already composing your imaginary meet-cute scenario with choso. maybe you’d bond over the syllabus. or he’d compliment your handwriting. or he’d drop a deeply intellectual comment about milton that you’d piggyback off of. but then you stopped dead in your tracks because sitting in your lecture hall, wearing the exact same hair tie he wore at last night’s party, was none other than suguru geto.

oh no.

you blinked a few times, hoping he was just a hallucination brought on by too much optimism at breakfast. but no, there he was, slumped into his seat, looking like a ghost of his usual self. his hair, usually neat and tucked behind his ear, was now lazily hanging in front of his face, and his eyes were half-lidded with exhaustion. he didn’t even bother pulling out his notebook—what was the point when he could barely stay conscious?

since when does he take this class?

you quickly scanned your mental archives. how did i not notice him all semester? was he new? was he a ghost? or worse—was he always here, and you were too busy daydreaming about choso to notice?

you slid into your seat, trying to shrink yourself into invisibility. maybe he wouldn’t see you. maybe he wouldn’t even recognize you. except, of course, the universe wasn’t done laughing at you.

“hey,” came his familiar voice.

you turned your head slowly, like a rusty robot, and there he was, smiling faintly at you like the human embodiment of the “this is fine” meme. 

“fancy seeing you here,” he said, his tone a little too casual for someone who probably still wanted to jump out a window over last night.

“uh… yeah. small world,” you replied, giving a very forced, very awkward laugh. meanwhile, in your head: oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, why is he here, why is he smiling, why does he look like he knows something i don’t?

“enjoying the afterglow of your reading?” he asked, raising a tired eyebrow. “sure am,” you said quickly, pretending to scribble something in your notebook. anything to avoid prolonged eye contact.  “good,” he said, leaning back. 

“because i’ve been thinking about that reading a lot.” 

you froze mid-scribble. “oh? really?” you asked, trying to sound casual. emphasis on trying. he sighed, rubbing his temple. “yeah. not your reading, though. all twelve of them. from the party. last night.” you blinked, caught off guard. 

“...you did twelve readings?”

“yup.” he let his head fall onto his desk. “i think i aged five years in one night. and gojo was the worst. again.” you couldn’t help but snort at that, some of the awkwardness ebbing away. “what did he ask this time?”

geto turned his head just enough to side-eye you from the desk. “wanted the cards to tell him who’s going to steal his sunglasses next.” you pressed your lips together to suppress a laugh. “did they?”

“it’s nanami.”

that was enough to crack you, and you laughed, loud enough to earn a few curious glances from your classmates. geto’s lips twitched into a small, tired smile. you placed your pen down and tilted your head. “so, is this why you look like you got hit by a train today?”

he groaned, cracking open an energy drink from his bag. “it’s not just the readings. it’s this class, too. pop quiz vibes are strong in the air today.”

oh no. oh no no no.

the silence between you both started to feel heavier. your brain, helpful as ever, decided to go on overdrive again: what now? do i keep talking? does he think i’m weird? why haven’t i noticed him in class before? god i’m the worst—focus, focus, focus!

you glanced at him, and he glanced at you at the same time, which immediately triggered the universal law of awkward eye contact. you both darted your eyes away—him, to the blank notebook page in front of him; you, to the random doodle you’d been half-heartedly scribbling. “so,” he started, clearing his throat, his voice softer now, “what’s today’s lecture about?”

you stared at your notes like they might give you the answer, but all they offered was a series of lines that could maybe pass as a badly drawn cat. “uh… poetry analysis, i think?”

“right. poetry,” he said, nodding like he hadn’t just forgotten the subject of the class he was literally sitting in. he flipped open his notebook, which was suspiciously empty, save for a solitary doodle of a fat cat in the corner. the professor walked in then, saving you both from the growing, almost tangible awkwardness.

you turned forward, suddenly very interested in the lecture, clutching your pen like it was a lifeline. from the corner of your eye, you saw geto doing the same, pretending to focus, though his hand moved so slowly across the page that you were certain he wasn’t writing anything at all.

the silence stretched, and though you were no longer speaking, the air between you was thick with unspoken words and stolen glances. by the time the professor started droning on about rhyme schemes, you were convinced you could hear your own heartbeat echoing in your ears. and yet, there was something oddly comforting in the shared awkwardness. something almost warm. but you didn’t dare look at him again. not yet. not while your face still felt embarrassingly warm.

-

if the spirits were going to turn geto into the hanged man for tampering with the cards, maybe he should’ve gone ahead and done it. at least then he wouldn’t be sitting here feeling like the hanged man, every second of this medieval and renaissance literature class stretching on like a medieval torture session.

you were right next to him. close enough to tap on the shoulder, whisper a joke about the professor’s outdated slides, or just breathe the same air while he attempted to craft a coherent sentence to get your attention. but no—at this very moment, your eyes were glued to the door, scanning it like a hawk waiting for its prey.

or, in this case, waiting for choso.

oh, choso, with his eternal frown and hair that looked like he shampooed it in the tears of the damned. what was so special about him anyway? geto could brood too. hell, he could brood with tarot cards and deep existential questions about life.

as you continued to ignore him, geto ran through his increasingly desperate options:

act like a monkey and perform an interpretative dance of his love in front of you.

risk incurring the wrath of the spirits by doing some very questionable card tricks.

drop to his knees and just beg you to look at him.

...or—and this was a truly radical thought—he could just talk to you like a normal human being. with great effort, geto willed his hand to raise, aiming to gently tap your shoulder and finally say something. hey, what’s your favorite renaissance play? wanna talk about the tragic themes in marlowe’s works? wanna skip class and—

but before his hand could make contact, the door opened.

and in walked choso.

with yuki tsukumo.

geto’s hand froze mid-air, and his jaw dropped like a drawbridge at a medieval castle. he wasn’t the only one either—your reaction was just as dramatic, except yours was tinged with the sound of your heart shattering into tiny, pulverized shards. shards that were promptly scooped up, shoved into a blender, and liquefied by the sight before you.

because while you were looking at choso, choso was looking at yuki.

and geto? geto was looking at you.

this tragic little love triangle—or maybe square, if you factored in the spirits hovering over geto like disappointed parents—was the tragic renaissance play no one asked for but somehow everyone got.

as yuki giggled at something choso said (giggled??? choso kamo has a sense of humor?), you slumped back in your seat, the light in your eyes dimming faster than the candles in a poorly ventilated cathedral. meanwhile, geto stared at the side of your face, willing his brain to think of something, anything, to say that could somehow salvage this situation.

but all he could think was: what is love?

followed closely by: baby, don’t hurt me.

-

you wanted to die. not in the "clutching a vial of poison in a tragic shakespearean way" kind of die, but in the "husband went to battle and never came back" kind of die, except your so-called husband wasn’t even yours to begin with. you were in a one-sided relationship so intense it deserved its own jane austen adaptation, except instead of a romantic ending, it seemed like you’d just be crying into your embroidery hoop.

and honestly? you got it. you saw why choso was acting like that around yuki. the guy looked like he’d seen heaven for the first time, smiling at her like she’d just invented fire or something. for choso, whose default setting was somewhere between “terminally annoyed” and “what’s the point of existence,” this was monumental. so, like any reasonable, heartbroken woman, you didn’t turn to another potential suitor for comfort. no, no. you sought out something far more powerful. solace. clarity. divine intervention.

...in the form of tarot cards.

you turned to geto, sitting beside you in all his slightly disheveled glory, and the look in your eyes was nothing short of pleading. you didn’t need to say anything for him to understand. you wanted answers.

"do a reading for me. right now."

your voice was low, but it carried the weight of a thousand broken hearts and at least two adele songs. you probably sounded like a woman on the brink of asking to see the manager of the universe.

geto blinked at you, taken aback. he hadn’t even had a chance to process the spectacle unfolding before you two—choso cracking a smile at yuki, yuki leaning in closer—before you demanded spiritual insight like you were trying to summon the oracle of delphi.

"a reading?" he asked, cautiously, like you’d just asked him to perform surgery on a grape.

"yes, a reading. right now.” you punctuated your words with a look so intense it could’ve melted through the linoleum floors. "i need to know what the spirits have to say about my love life because clearly," you gestured dramatically towards choso and yuki, "i’ve been living in delusion."

you were not joking. in fact, you were about two seconds away from rummaging through geto’s bag yourself to pull out the cards.

geto, to his credit, did his best to keep a straight face, but internally he was screaming. this was not how he imagined getting your attention. where was the romantic small talk? the flirty banter? instead, he was being asked to summon metaphysical clarity in the middle of a lecture hall. “you realize we’re in class, right?” he asked, gesturing towards the professor, who was obliviously droning on about chaucer. 

“what’s more important—canterbury tales or my rapidly deteriorating sense of self-worth?” you deadpanned, arms crossed.

he sighed, already regretting his life choices, but reached into his bag anyway. this was going to be a very, very long class. as he shuffled the cards, you leaned in closer, practically vibrating with desperation. geto thought for a second that maybe the spirits would smite him for doing this, but at least he could die knowing he was, in some absurd way, your chosen source of comfort.

the reading became, as irony would have it, your single biggest source of suffering. every time geto pulled out a card, it felt less like a reading for your love life and more like an unwelcome live commentary on choso and yuki’s blossoming connection.

“all right,” geto muttered, flipping over the first card, “three of pentacles. this suggests an opportunity to collaborate or share.”

you nodded eagerly, until your eyes betrayed you and drifted over to the sunlit corner where choso and yuki were seated. and oh, what was that? choso handing her his highlighter? a stabilo one, no less? lending stationery wasn’t just helpful; it was practically a love confession in academic circles.

your stomach dropped. “okay, that’s a fluke. what’s the next one?”

geto hesitated but drew the next card. “uh, ace of cups. could mean new opportunities for emotional connection. an offer, maybe.”

you turned back to look at choso just as yuki reached out and flicked a piece of lint off his sweater. his vintage, thrifted sweater.

your jaw tightened as your sharp eye for fashion immediately clocked every detail of the piece—the carefully worn texture, the faintly faded yet intentional color palette, the hand-stitched hem that was too perfect to be mass-produced. vintage. thrifted. possibly one-of-a-kind.

and there was yuki, just casually touching it like it was some department store clearance item. your fists clenched around your pen as you sat there, practically vibrating with indignation. next to you, geto raised a curious eyebrow. “you okay?” he whispered, leaning in slightly.

“i’m fine,” you replied through gritted teeth, though your gaze was still locked on yuki and the sweater. “it’s just…some people don’t understand the sanctity of vintage clothing.”

geto blinked at you, then at yuki and choso, his expression half-amused, half-confused. “right… the sanctity.” you ignored him, seething quietly as yuki smiled, entirely unaware of the silent judgment radiating in her direction. flicking lint off a thrifted piece? unforgivable.

“all right, one more card,” he said, trying to keep you from spiraling. “the sun. it’s a positive sign. it means there’s hope, clarity—happiness at the end of the road.” you weren’t sure what you expected, but it wasn’t to glance back at choso and yuki basking in literal daylight streaming through the classroom windows. 

meanwhile, you and geto were shivering in the poorly heated corner of the room, shrouded in cold shadows, and probably misery.

"well," you muttered, shoving the cards away from you like they were personally responsible for ruining your day. "thanks for nothing, spirits."

“don’t blame the cards!” geto whispered, as if the spirits themselves were about to jump you in the hallway after class. 

“oh, i will blame them. i’m blaming all of it—tarot, the universe, my horoscope. even you.” you jabbed a finger at geto. he raised his hands defensively. “me? i’m just the messenger!”

“yeah? well, tell your spirits to pick someone else next time,” you snapped. “preferably someone not already taken.”

you turned back to your notebook, seething quietly, while geto, to his credit, really did try to make it right. he wasn’t about to charge you for what was basically a tarot drive-by, especially not one that seemed to have single handedly ruined your faith in divination, fate, and possibly humanity. as class ended and you bolted for the door, he scrambled to follow, shoving his cards into his bag haphazardly as if they might somehow soften the mess he’d unknowingly made.

“hey, wait! i’m sorry!” he called out, weaving through the crowd of students like a man on a mission—or, more accurately, like a very apologetic cat chasing a laser pointer. you knew you should’ve stopped. you knew he wasn’t at fault—how could he be? he didn’t control the cards, and even if he did, it wasn’t like he made choso and yuki sit under a literal beam of sunshine together like a rom-com poster come to life. but pride is a tricky thing, and yours had dug its claws deep.

“it’s fine,” you muttered through gritted teeth, speeding up to create distance. but geto, persistent and well-meaning as ever, wasn’t giving up. “no, it’s not fine,” he said, keeping pace with you. “i didn’t mean for it to—look, it wasn’t about you. well, it kinda was, but not like—ugh, just let me explain!”

you stopped abruptly, and geto nearly tripped over his own feet to avoid crashing into you. your chest was tight, not from running, but from the mess of feelings swirling around: anger, hurt, and worst of all, embarrassment. you turned to him with a glare sharper than it had any right to be.

“i don’t need an explanation, okay? i get it. it was stupid of me to think it was about me in the first place,” you snapped, and the second the words left your mouth, you regretted them.

geto blinked, taken aback, and for a split second, you caught the way his expression shifted—like he’d been hit with a blow he hadn’t expected. his shoulders sagged slightly, his usual calm demeanor faltering. “that’s not what i meant at all,” he said softly, voice barely audible over the buzz of students passing by.

the pang in your chest deepened, but before you could give it more thought, you turned and hurried away, leaving him standing there in the hallway. you didn’t look back, even though something in you wanted to. pride won again, as it always seemed to. but as you walked off, the image of his expression stayed with you, burned into the back of your mind like a guilty little ghost you couldn’t shake.

-

later that evening, geto sat at his desk staring at his tarot cards like they were a cheat sheet for life that had suddenly decided to go blank. the spread in front of him was chaotic at best: the tower, the three of swords, the five of cups. if the cards were trying to scream “you fucked up,” they were doing a great job. he sighed, dragging a hand down his face as he considered reshuffling for the fifth time that hour.

but then it hit him—like a very literal sign from above. a chunk of plaster from his dorm ceiling detached and bounced right off his head, leaving him rubbing his scalp and glaring up at the offending crack. “perfect,” he muttered. “thanks, universe. really appreciate the symbolism.”

it was then, mid-reckoning with gravity, that geto realized something important: this was not how tarot worked. it wasn’t a tool for undoing mistakes or bending the will of fate. if higher forces played by human rules, they wouldn’t be higher forces; they’d be coworkers who ignore emails. so, he did what any reasonable person would do when their usual method of problem-solving failed—he decided to reach out to you. to check if you were okay. rejection, even one involving misplaced feelings and stabilo highlighters, was a bitter pill to swallow, and he wanted to make sure you weren’t stewing in it alone.

but then another realization hit him, thankfully not a physical one this time: he didn’t have your number. or your social media. or literally any way to contact you that didn’t involve smoke signals or breaking into your dorm like a lunatic. waiting until tomorrow felt wrong, so he did what any unhinged-but-earnest guy would do.

he opened his email.

geto scrolled through his inbox with the dedication of a scholar deciphering ancient texts. his literature professor had this habit of sending class-wide emails—updates, reminders, existential musings, you name it. surely, somewhere in that chaotic thread, your email address was lurking. “ah, here,” he whispered triumphantly when he found one, squinting at the long list of recipients. his finger hovered over your name as if clicking it would summon you like a genie.

now came the hard part: drafting an email that didn’t sound like a confession of a crime. he typed furiously, deleting sentences almost as fast as he wrote them.

Subject: just checking in hey, i hope this doesn’t come off as weird but i wanted to check if you’re okay after class today. i know things got kind of intense and i just wanted to make sure you’re doing all right. if you need someone to talk to or even rant at i’m here. seriously. sorry if this email is out of the blue but i couldn’t wait till tomorrow to say something. take care, s. geto

he stared at the draft like it might sprout fangs and bite him. “is this too much? not enough? why do i sound like an HR rep?” after a moment of panic and one deep breath, he hit send before he could overthink it further.

leaning back in his chair, he stared at the ceiling (or what was left of it) and muttered, “smooth, geto. real smooth.”

meanwhile, back in the academy award-worthy drama that was your life, you paced the length of your dorm room like the unhinged protagonist of a spy film—except instead of planning a heist, your master plan was not having an emotional breakdown. and frankly, it wasn’t going great.

why was this such a big deal anyway? choso wasn’t the love of your life. you didn’t have pictures of him taped to your wall like a deranged scrapbooker. sure, he had great bone structure and an aesthetic that could front a band no one’s ever heard of, but did he own your heart? no. 

so why the hell was rejection stinging like you just got voted off a reality show? oh, right. because it wasn’t just choso. it was the whole concept. 

the idea that maybe, just maybe, for once in your life, the stars or the cards or something might give you a break. but nope. no knight in shining armor, no grand declarations of love, just... lint-flicking and stabilo-sharing with someone who wasn’t you.

and, of course, because the universe has a sense of humor, guilt was there to crash the party, too. poor geto. you practically bit his head off in class, and for what? doing his job as the accidental harbinger of bad news? great job, you. what’s next—yelling at the weather? just as you were about to descend into yet another spiral, this time brought to you by regret and self-loathing, your phone pinged obnoxiously loud. you froze mid-pace. that sound? that horrible custom sound you set for college emails? you grabbed your phone like it was a live grenade and squinted at the screen.

from: sugurugeto@gmail.com subject: just checking in

your mouth hung open as you stared at the preview. the email equivalent of puppy eyes. of course. because why let the guilt marinate quietly when it can now come with words? opening the email, you read through his message, and something in your chest twisted. he wasn’t even being dramatic. no passive-aggressive digs, no over-apologizing, just... concern. genuine, sweet concern. “ugh,” you muttered, flopping onto your bed as you thought about how to respond without sounding like you were unraveling emotionally. you began typing, deleting, retyping, then deleting again.

Subject: re: just checking in hi, thanks for reaching out. i’ve been better. today was a bit of a mess, but that’s not your fault. i shouldn’t have snapped at you earlier. it was unfair and i’m sorry for taking my frustration out on you. ig i just got caught up in the whole idea of things working out for once yk. and when it didn’t, it stung more than i expected. but seriously i appreciate you checking in. it means a lot. take care, [your name]

you hovered over the send button for a second before hitting it, then tossed your phone onto the bed like it had personally wronged you. 

“great,” you muttered to yourself, staring at the ceiling. “now i just look emotionally unstable and like a bitch.” but deep down, there was a strange kind of relief. maybe, just maybe, you hadn’t completely burned the bridge with geto.

maybe life didn’t feel like dolphins and rainbows with symphony by zara larsson playing in the background, but at least you woke up without the overwhelming urge to set your entire life on fire. progress. 

you had come to terms with the fact that you weren’t mad about choso being taken. honestly, good for him and yuki—they had the chemistry of two hot protagonists in a slow-burn drama anyway. and hey, you weren’t mad at yourself anymore either. growth, right? but of course, the universe always had one more plot twist up its sleeve.

you walked into the supervised study session later that day, fully expecting to slink into your seat, avoid eye contact with choso and yuki, and pretend you were a background character in your own life. instead, you were greeted with... a display. there, right in front of your usual spot, stood geto with what could only be described as a care package for someone emotionally devastated—or recovering from surgery. maybe both.

a soft, ridiculously fluffy blanket was folded neatly on your desk, next to a neck pillow that looked like it could cure insomnia. there were snacks—chips, cookies, even a little bag of trail mix because apparently, he cared about your protein intake. and drinks, plural, including tea, juice, and water, because hydration was key, obviously. oh, and let’s not forget the vitamin gummies.

vitamin. gummies.

“uh...” you managed, staring at the scene like it might morph into something less... earnest.

“good morning!” geto beamed at you, his expression the human equivalent of a golden retriever wagging its tail. “i, uh, thought you might need a little pick-me-up.” 

you blinked. “a little? what, are you preparing me for the apocalypse?” 

he laughed, a soft, sheepish sound as he scratched the back of his neck. “just thought it might help. you know, in case yesterday was still... lingering.”

you glanced at the pile of comfort on your desk, then back at geto, who looked so genuine it made your chest ache a little. sure, he could’ve just emailed back with a “glad you’re okay,” but no, he’d gone all in like he was running a wellness retreat. “this is... wow, geto,” you said, unsure whether to laugh or cry. “you really didn’t have to.”

“i know,” he said, his tone almost shy. “but i wanted to.”

and that’s when it hit you. as your eyes flickered to choso, who was scooting his chair closer to yuki with the subtlety of a rom-com lead, your gaze naturally found its way back to geto. the ridiculously awkward, long-haired boy in front of you, who apparently thought vitamin gummies were the solution to all of life’s problems, was now the one pulling at your focus.

ah, drat.

“well,” you said, sitting down and letting yourself sink into the cocoon of comfort he’d assembled, “you better not have used up your entire snack budget on me.”

“nah,” he said with a grin, pulling a pack of tarot cards out of his bag. “besides, i’m saving my budget for these bad boys.” you groaned, but it was accompanied by a smile. yeah, maybe life wasn’t all dolphins and rainbows, but it wasn’t so bad either.

respectfully speaking, geto was shit scared when he got in all that stuff for you. sure, in his mind it had seemed like a good idea—people liked snacks, right? and blankets were universally comforting. vitamin gummies? maybe a little overboard, but hey, health was wealth. but now, watching you actually use the stuff, munching on a strawberry-centered wafer like it was your job, he felt a wave of something dangerously close to relief. you didn’t think he was weird. or at least, not weird enough to ignore free snacks. small victories.

still, the nervous churn in his stomach hadn’t entirely gone away. because what was this, exactly? a gesture of kindness? a peace offering? a declaration of love wrapped in a fleece blanket and stuffed with gummy vitamins? he had no idea. but if this was what it took to see you look this relaxed around him, he’d happily bankrupt himself. and then, just as he was settling into the warm, fuzzy feeling of semi-success, you hit him with the question.

“so,” you said, pausing mid-bite of a wafer, “what got you into tarot in the first place?”

oh no. oh no no no.

he froze, a deer in the headlights of your curiosity. because what was he supposed to say? the truth—that he bought a deck at 2 a.m. because it was on sale and looked cool? that he’d learned most of it from random youtube videos and a couple of moderator banned reddit threads? or should he go full storyteller and spin a wild tale about a mysterious mentor who handed him a deck and told him his destiny was written in the cards? you tilted your head, waiting for an answer, and he realized he couldn’t bullshit this. you didn’t seem like the type to fall for theatrics, and even if you did, he couldn’t bring himself to lie to you.

“uh, okay, so, it’s not, like... that deep,” he began, scratching the back of his neck in the universal gesture of please don’t judge me. “basically, i was scrolling online one night, super late—like, 2 a.m. kinda late—and i saw this tarot deck on sale. it looked cool, so i bought it.”

you raised an eyebrow, and he scrambled to elaborate.

“and then i figured, y’know, i should probably learn how to use it, or else it’d just be, like, fancy cards lying around. so i watched some videos, read some guides... and, uh, here we are.” you stared at him for a moment, wafer halfway to your mouth. 

“so, let me get this straight. you became the campus tarot guy because of a 2 a.m. impulse buy?”

“...pretty much, yeah.”

and then you laughed. not a polite chuckle or a restrained giggle, but a full-on laugh that made his chest feel like it was doing somersaults. “oh my god,” you said, shaking your head. “that’s so lame. like, impressively lame.” he grinned, the tension easing out of his shoulders. “yeah, well, lame seems to be working for me so far.” you smirked, popping the rest of the wafer into your mouth. “fair point.” and just like that, the awkwardness melted away. geto might not have had a mind-blowing origin story, but seeing you smile like that? yeah, he didn’t need one.

-

as time went on, you didn’t even notice how seamlessly geto had woven himself into your life. it wasn’t a dramatic shift—no grand confessions or pivotal moments—but more like the slow, steady filling of spaces you hadn’t realized were empty.

it started with sitting together in every class. at first, it was coincidence—his seat just happened to be free. but then it became routine. he’d drape his bag over the back of the chair next to him, a silent reservation just for you, and you’d slide into it without a second thought.

then came the library sessions. you told yourself it was practical; after all, two heads were better than one when it came to deciphering medieval metaphors. but somewhere along the way, practicality blurred into something else. the quiet companionship of those shared hours, the way you’d nudge his shoulder when he started to doze off, the small, secret smiles exchanged over the tops of textbooks—it all felt intimate. you thought about bringing it up, that the library was where you’d first met, but the idea felt too sentimental, too vulnerable. surely he didn’t remember that tiny detail. 

little did you know, geto did remember. it was one of those memories he kept tucked away, revisiting it like a favorite line in a book.

of course, studying with geto came with its quirks. like the way he couldn’t resist pulling out his tarot deck every chance he got. 

“do you really think the cards are gonna tell you if you’ll pass this exam?” you’d huff, grabbing the deck from his hands before he could shuffle it. “well, they’ve been right before,” he’d tease, leaning just a little too close as he reached for them.

“maybe if you spent half as much time studying as you do asking the cards, you wouldn’t need to worry about passing.”

he’d laugh, the kind of laugh that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” you’d swat his arm, and he’d pretend to be mortally wounded, clutching at the spot like you’d struck him with a sword. but secretly? that little bit of contact was enough to make his heart race. every single time.

and then there was the way you challenged him—gently, but firmly—to rely less on his cards.

“tarot’s supposed to guide you,” you’d say, flipping through his notes while he doodled idly in the margins. “not run your life.”

he didn’t argue, mostly because you were right. and slowly, he started to take your advice. he still used the cards, of course, but not for every little thing. he began to let the unpredictability of life happen, unfiltered by fate or forewarning. and you know what? it wasn’t all that bad. in fact, it was starting to grow on him—this strange, chaotic, beautiful mess of living. because somewhere in the middle of all the unpredictability was you, and that made it more than worth it.

-

you know that sinking feeling when you realize your phone is low-key betraying you? yeah, that’s the exact sensation creeping up your spine as you sit cross-legged on your dorm bed, thumb mindlessly scrolling through reels. your current mission: find the perfect meme or video to send to geto. because yes, somewhere between tarot readings and shared library snacks, you two finally exchanged instagram handles. a milestone, honestly. but of course, the universe has other plans. 

as you scroll past a cat dancing to eurobeat, your screen flashes with a promoted ad: “astrotalk – find the answers to life here!” 

right. because you were definitely talking about astrology out loud earlier. thank you, zuck.  just as you’re about to swipe away, your phone does what it does best—it lags. your double tap, meant to like a reel, somehow registers as download app. the ding of success seals your fate. 

“oh, for fuck’s sake,” you mutter, staring at the app’s cheerful icon now grinning at you from your home screen. you consider deleting it immediately but curiosity gets the better of you. besides, it’s not like anyone’s here to judge. so you open the app.

bright colors, cheesy taglines, and a cartoon moon with a winking face greet you. honestly, it’s a little cringe, but who cares? the app boasts a free love consultation for first-time users. after that? a steep $45 per reading. capitalism at its finest.

“might as well milk the freebie,” you mumble, tapping through the options.

it asks for your star sign first. easy. you enter it. then it asks for your potential match’s star sign. you blink.

why… why is geto’s sign the first one to pop into your head? you tell yourself it’s because his birthday came up recently, and you remember him casually mentioning he was an aquarius. totally not because you’ve been secretly keeping tabs.

you type it in and hit submit.

the screen takes a moment to load, suspense building as though the app is calculating the mysteries of the universe instead of running a basic algorithm. then, the results flash on the screen:

“YOU AND YOUR PARTNER ARE 90% COMPATIBLE! STRONG BOND POTENTIAL!”

“partner?” you scoff, a little too loudly for the empty room. “calm down, bro. we’re not even… ugh.” but you can’t help the heat creeping up your neck. because why does this feel so validating? like the app just confirmed something you weren’t ready to admit out loud. you toss your phone onto the bed, trying to ignore the way your heart flutters a little. “it’s just an app,” you mutter, flopping back onto your pillow. but as you stare at the ceiling, you can’t stop wondering. 90% compatible, huh? maybe the universe isn’t entirely out to get you.

the party was already in full swing by the time you and geto arrived, the unmistakable thrum of bass-heavy music vibrating through the walls and into your chest. the house, courtesy of everyone’s favorite socialite, gojo satoru, was packed wall to wall with students desperate to blow off steam after a particularly brutal exam season. the air was a heady mix of sweat, cheap booze, and cigarette smoke, oddly comforting in its chaos. fairy lights were strung haphazardly across the ceiling, casting a soft, golden glow over the sea of bodies swaying in time to the music. 

as you stepped inside, your senses were immediately overwhelmed. the sticky heat of too many people crammed into one space hit you first, followed by the sharp tang of tequila and the smoky haze from a makeshift smoking area in the corner. the living room-turned-dancefloor was packed with a crowd that was equal parts gyrating and stumbling. “guess we’re really doing this,” you said, glancing at geto, who had already started scanning the room like he was bracing himself for impact.

his expression faltered for a moment before he shrugged. “it’s either this or another night of staring at my tarot cards, and they’re tired of me asking if i’ll pass my exams.” you laughed, shaking your head. “let’s get some drinks before this place gets even worse.”

before you could make it to the kitchen, a whirlwind of energy that could only be gojo grabbed geto by the arm. "hey, suguboo! come join the crew—nanami’s actually drinking tonight. it’s a miracle!" geto shot you a quick, apologetic look before being dragged off toward a cluster of familiar faces gathered near the makeshift DJ setup. you waved him off, muttering a quick "have fun" as you made your way toward the kitchen.

it was just as packed as the rest of the house, though marginally quieter. bottles of every cheap liquor imaginable lined the counters, accompanied by mismatched plastic cups and a suspiciously sticky floor. and that’s when you saw them—choso and yuki. 

yuki’s bright smile was the first thing to catch your eye. she had that annoyingly magnetic energy, the kind that made it impossible to dislike her, even if she was spiking your drink to make it strong enough to knock out a small horse. “hey” she greeted, her voice cutting through the noise with ease. “you made it! here, have a drink—trust me, you need it after those exams.” you watched as she poured a generous amount of something clear and suspiciously strong into a cup, topping it off with a splash of what you hoped was juice.

choso stood next to her, his usual brooding aura softened just slightly by the festive atmosphere. he gave you a polite nod, but his attention was mostly on yuki as she handed you the drink. “uh, thanks,” you said, accepting the cup with a wary glance. it smelled potent, but the night was young, and if there was ever a time to throw caution to the wind, it was now.

as you took a sip—too strong, just as you’d expected—you couldn’t help but glance toward the living room, wondering how long it would take for geto to escape gojo’s clutches. something about the night felt charged, like the universe was waiting for something to happen. and for once, you weren’t entirely sure if you were ready for it.

you had barely processed yuki excusing herself to the ladies' room when half a cup of whatever unholy concoction she poured you started working its magic. stars were dancing in your vision, and your internal monologue was a mix of “am i drunk, or is this enlightenment?” and “what if i just lay down on this sticky floor and let the universe take me?” choso, ever the picture of stoic composure, stood by sipping his own drink, completely unaffected. in your infinite drunken wisdom, you decided now was the perfect time to recount the tarot reading debacle to him. because why not relive your most embarrassing moment at a house party with the person who unknowingly kickstarted it all?

“so, ya know,” you started, gesturing dramatically with your cup, “there was this thing that happened with geto's reading. you were there! nodding at me like i’d just won the love lottery or whatever. and i—oh my god, i thought you were into me.” choso blinked, unbothered as ever, though you noticed a faint crease of amusement in his brow. “uh-huh,” he said, taking another sip of his drink.

“yeah! and then i find out,” you continued, pointing at him accusatorily, “that you were actually into yuki, and i was out here thinking i was the main character in this tragic medieval romance novel! turns out, i wasn’t even in the prologue.” choso raised an eyebrow. 

“to be fair, it was obvious you and geto would make a good match.”

the words hit you like a brick. you and geto?

“wait,” you said, staring at him like he’d just spoken in tongues. “me and geto? suguru? you’re telling me all that nodding and cryptic behavior was because you thought we’d be a good match?”

he nodded. “you both have this... thing. sensitive, charming, dreamy—”

“don’t,” you cut him off, holding up a finger, the fog in your brain clearing so fast it was dizzying. “don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

“healing,” choso finished anyway, unbothered by your rapidly spiraling state.

you stood there, frozen, the memory of that reading slamming into you like a wrecking ball.

was he sensitive? yes. charming? puppy-eyed charm for days. dreamy? don’t get me started. healing? in the most absurd ways possible. mutual feelings? please, universe, say yes.

“oh my god,” you muttered, dropping your drink on the counter with a thunk. “oh my god.” choso sighed, shaking his head. “you’re really dense, aren’t you? no offense.”

“offense taken!” you snapped, already spinning on your heels. “but also, thanks, i gotta go.”

“what are you—?”

“find him!” you yelled over your shoulder, already weaving through the sweaty bodies on the dance floor like a woman on a mission. behind you, choso sighed dramatically, swirling his drink like he was in a shakespearean tragedy. “'tis true, love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind.’”

"stop quoting a midsummer night’s dream!" you shouted back, not even turning around.

you were a woman possessed as you weaved through the chaos of the party, dodging sweaty couples, discarded cups, and one guy inexplicably attempting to juggle shot glasses. where is he? you muttered under your breath, your eyes scanning every corner. 

finally, you spotted geto sprawled on a couch in the corner of the room, looking like he was having an existential crisis at a house party—one leg thrown over the armrest, his hair half tied and half rebelliously escaping, his long legs stretched out like he owned the couch, and his expression screamed, "why am i here and how can i leave without offending anyone?" apparently, gojo and the gang had taken off to drunkenly compete in a swim-to-the-other-side-of-the-pool-without-drowning race, and geto, the only one with common sense, had respectfully declined.

your heart did a weird little flip-flop at the sight of him, though whether it was from nerves or the bacardi yuki had spiked your drink with, you couldn’t tell. however, had bigger problems. like the fact that your heart was about to stage a mutiny and jump right out of your chest. how were you even going to start this?

hey, i realized i love you the minute you showed up to class with vitamin gummies for me.or maybe it was when you emailed me, “just checking in” like a gentleman from the 1800s. or maybe it was every time you did something ridiculously thoughtful like it was nothing.

you took a deep breath, but all that came out was, "hey."

geto looked up, blinking at you like he wasn’t sure if you were real or just a figment of his daydreams. "oh. hey."

good start, you thought. very articulate.

you shuffled closer, ignoring the pounding in your chest. "uh, so... how’s the couch treating you?" he blinked again, a small smile tugging at his lips. "better than gojo’s swimming plans, i can tell you that much."

"right, yeah," you laughed awkwardly, standing there like a statue while your brain scrambled to form coherent thoughts. geto tilted his head, a soft chuckle escaping him. "you okay? you look like you’ve seen a ghost—or yuki with another drink for you."

"ha, funny," you said, before blurting out, "actually, i’ve been running around looking for you." his eyes widened slightly, and he sat up straighter, suddenly looking both amused and terrified. "oh? should i be worried?"

"no! no," you said quickly, waving your hands like you were fending off an accusation. "i just... there’s something i need to say, and, uh—look, i swear it’s not the bacardi talking." geto raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "you sure? because venus is in retrograde right now, and it’s messing with everyone’s feelings."

you froze. "wait, what?"

"venus. retrograde," he repeated, gesturing vaguely like that explained everything. "you know, the planet of love and all that? it’s doing its thing, so if this is about some cosmic realization—"

"no!" you interrupted, louder than intended, earning a few glances from nearby partygoers. "this isn’t about venus or renegades or whatever. this is about me. and you."

that got his attention. his smile faltered, and for a moment, he just stared at you, eyes wide, lips parted like he was afraid to speak.

"look," you continued, words tumbling out faster than your brain could process them. "i don’t care if mercury’s in gatorade or saturn’s doing cartwheels—i like you. no, wait, i love you. i love you because you care about things that no one else notices, because you do the kindest things without making a big deal out of it. because you..." you hesitated, your voice softening, "you make life feel... lighter. and if this ruins everything, then fine. but i needed you to know."

poor geto looked like he was experiencing every emotion known to man simultaneously. he let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through his hair. "are you sure you’re not drunk?"

"i love you," you repeated, because apparently, one humiliating confession wasn’t enough. "i mean, who wouldn’t? you’re... you’re geto! you bring vitamin gummies to class, you email me just to check in, and you—you just do these little things like they’re nothing, but they mean everything to me. and i—god, this is so embarrassing. i probably sound insane, don’t i?"

"no," he said quickly, his voice soft but firm. "no, you don’t. i—"

"oh my god," you cut him off, suddenly burying your face in your hands. "this is the bacardi talking. forget i said anything. or—or don’t forget. i don’t know. i’m spiraling, suguru. help."

"hey, hey," he said, leaning forward, his hands hovering awkwardly near yours as if he wanted to comfort you but didn’t want to scare you off. "breathe, okay? it’s fine."

you peeked at him through your fingers. "it is?"

he didn’t say anything at first. instead, he reached out, gently taking your hand in his. "yeah," he said quietly. 

"for the record," his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles, "venus retrograde has nothing to do with this. i’ve been in love with you since the first time you helped me with my books in the library."

you blinked. "wait, what?"

"yeah," he repeated, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "honestly, i’ve been in love with you for ages. i just—i didn’t think you’d feel the same way. you’re kind of out of my league, you know?"

"me? out of your league?" you laughed, the sound a little wobbly but genuine. "geto, you’re literally the human equivalent of a prince. you’re smart, you’re sweet, you’re ridiculously pretty—"

"okay, stop," he said, his face turning pink.

"no, seriously!" you insisted, a grin spreading across your face. "i’m half-convinced you’re not even real sometimes."

"well," he said, finally letting himself laugh, "if i’m not real, then who’s been buying you vitamin gummies and writing you sappy emails?"

"touché," you said, smiling back at him.

"love is a silly thing," he added, smiling softly. "but with you? it’s my favorite thing."

and just like that, your heart found its home.

thank you for reading till the end 🙂‍↕️ this is probably one of the shortest fics i've ever written LOL, the more i look at it the more unsatisfactory it gets.....but erm anyways blame that on the burnout 🕺!! i hope you liked reading this regardless, the concept has been on my mind for a while now ☆⌒(*＾-゜)v as usual, my "which reader are you" quiz has been updated with this fic as well, so be sure to take it and let me know if you got this fic or not! <3

[demon-country]

Man, no wonder Stolas got literal heart eyes after Blitz did this. This was his "Harriet! Don't get on that train!" moment, the big gesture he so desperately wanted just so he'd know that Blitz really did care about him enough to want him to stay. He had been so sure that that was going to be the last time he ever saw Blitz, that the last thing he ever did would be saving Blitz's life, and Blitz's response was to fight against the chains dragging him away just so he could run to Stolas with a desperate, heart-wrenching plea not to sacrifice himself.

Blitz had thought for sure that he'd never be able to give Stolas the kind of dramatic romcom moment Stolas longed for, but the joke's on him and us, because even though we all knew he would inevitably end up giving Stolas one and were eagerly awaiting it, no one expected it to be like that. And yet, the writers pulled through for us once again, because there really could not have been a more meaningful and moving way for him to have done so.

Anything where Blitz actually said something along the lines of "don't get on that train", could have been misconstrued by both Stolas and irl media illiterate viewers as Blitz just saying what Stolas wanted to hear without actually meaning it (assuming Stolas even remembers that conversation). But there was nothing contrived about this, there was no time for him to have possibly thought about any potential romcom moments at all; he just saw that he was about to lose Stolas for good and fought as hard and as frantically as he could, just to beg Stolas not to take the fall for him. To not love him so much that he'd think Blitz was worth protecting with his very life.

And I don't even think he realizes just how much that meant to Stolas, to know that the man he loves would fight for him with such fervor, despite knowing that it was a fruitless effort. Blitz, without knowing it and without even realizing just how much raw, earnest, desperate love he was displaying, gave Stolas exactly the kind of overt and undeniable proof that he was loved and wanted that he had always needed.

Except that, as Stolas has already found out, that's not enough. He made his big gesture to Blitz and Blitz made one to him, and that's a great start, but love's not just shown through grand gestures and they're not what'll help you pick up the pieces when your world falls apart.

The smaller, softer, quieter gestures of love are what Stolas will need most going forward, but for someone who has received as little love in his life as Stolas has, who has suffered from depression for ages, and who has just lost almost everything (including his antidepressants!), it might end up being hard for him to tell the difference between what is done out of love and what is done out of mere obligation to repay a debt. Not to worry, though, because he'll learn how to spot it soon enough.

He'll see that sometimes love is shown by taking care of someone when they don't have the strength to do it themselves

And by taking them by the hand and giving them a place to rest when it all becomes too much for them to bear

And by catching them when they fall, even when you're upset with each other

And by being so comforting that they feel safe falling asleep and leaving themselves vulnerable next to you without any hesitation.

Perhaps the greatest injustice the world has dealt to Blitz is by convincing him that he ruins lives, when the truth is that the person behind his walls has a way of loving people that is so incredibly healing. Simply by being his real, honest self, he manages to give the people he cares about the kind of love they need the most, without even trying. Without even noticing how much his words and actions have affected them for the better.

And now that those walls have started to drop, his loved ones have been able to start showing how much they love and want to support him as well. I have faith that once Stolas has cottoned on to the little ways Blitz has been showing him that he cares, that he'll start reciprocating those gestures. The man is such a romantic and in the song Just Look My Way he even says "I can give you everything you need" as well as "and no matter what in this world I could give, it's not enough"; there's no way he won't eventually try to provide for and take care of Blitz once he's well enough to. He just needs some time to heal, and until then Blitz will be there, giving him the love and care that he needs to keep his head above water.

Tl;dr: all the people who said that Blitz would never be able to give Stolas what he needs in a partner have just been proven dead wrong on all counts, and will continue to be proven so.

[suhkusa]

HELL OF A WOMAN.

PAIRING. Bakugou Katsuki x f!Reader

CW. slight enemies-to-lovers, some angst but not heavy, fluff, you're both snarky (romantic), ~4k words, slice of life, reader has a healing quirk

A/N. i'd say slowburn but it's only slowburn because i barely ever write fics this long lol

Throughout your time in the nurse’s office as Recovery Girl’s student apprentice, you’ve met many different students. They all varied– whether it be their quirk, their grade, or even the injury they had come in for. 

Students from the general education, support and management departments rarely ever made their rounds to the nurse’s office, only coming in for a simple cut or bruise. 

That left you with those in the hero department.

You got along well with nearly all of them, even going as far as becoming friends with a few. And while that was true, of course there were gonna be some who you couldn’t get along with. But, there was specifically one student you could not stand. And he’d probably say the same thing for you as well. 

It was none other than Bakugou Katsuki.

———

The first time you really interacted with Bakugou Katsuki was within the first month of your apprenticeship. It was in your 3rd year, and you had already been managing well. 

Your day had started off fantastic. Recovery Girl had left you to run the office by yourself, thoroughly trusting your working and communication skills, so that she could run errands out of town. 

The office hadn’t been too busy, allowing you time to finish a bit of your homework at your own little desk next to hers. A few people came and left, just needing a simple healing of their arm or leg. 

You had been lost in thought when he slammed the door open, practically huffing as he walked in. Putting your pencil down, your wide eyes looked up and met his own. It felt as though he was burning a hole straight through your skull with the way he stared you down.

You didn’t even have to ask to know who he was. In your first and second year, his face was plastered nearly everywhere throughout the media. Bakugou Katsuki. But you’d never talked to him. Well, until now.

Assuming he’d be like every other person who walked through that door, stating their business then quietly leaving, you broke the deafening silence.

“Uh, yes?” you let out, cringing internally at the way the words came out.

Bakugou looked around the room before back at you, “Where the hell is the old woman at?” he spat.

You were seemingly surprised at his not-so-subtle entrance and dirty language. 

“If you meant Recovery Lady by “old woman”, then she’s out of town for some errands. I can help you if–”

“And who the hell are you?” he snapped before you finished, impatience laced in the way he spoke and stood before you.

You could practically feel how your jaw dropped and eyebrows furrowed at his blunt question. If he didn’t hold back, then why should you?

“I’m Y/N L/N, I’m Recovery Lady’s helper. Now,” you put on the most calm and collected voice you could manage, “what the hell do you want?”

The day was going well, before now at least, and you were not going to let some egoistic, cocky guy ruin it for you. Tug of war is a game with two different sides, and you weren’t gonna let him win victoriously. 

Bakugou’s face scrunched up at the words you spat right back at him, opening his mouth to retort something– probably an insult– before letting it fall shut with a grunt. 

“What the– Just put a bandage on this shit,” he held his arm out for you to see a scrape wound running up the length of it.

You raised an eyebrow as you glanced between the injury and his eyes that looked down at you expectantly. And waited.

“The fuck you staring at?” he spoke– yelled, really– before stepping a bit closer.

A smirk tugged up at the corner of your lips before you sat back in your spinning chair, crossing a leg over the other. Like you were the one expecting something.

“You–”

“Please.” you cut him off, lifting a hand to inspect your nails nonchalantly. Hm, maybe you should get them done.

“Like hell I’m saying that, do something about–”

“Please.”  you repeated, emphasizing the word in a louder tone. You looked at him from behind your lifted hand, the smirk that once teased at your mouth now sitting there fully– mocking him.

“Fine! Fuckin’ fine!”  Bakugou snarled, his pearly whites peeking from under his lips. “Will you please do something about this?”

Satisfied, you responded, “‘Kay,”

———

Perhaps you should’ve bit your tongue before you spoke to the oh so great Bakugou Katsuki. In your defense, you didn’t know he’d hold it against you. You were joking, obviously. It was obvious. Right?

And so, everytime he walked into the nurse’s office, he’d send you the same nasty glare, practically seething through his teeth as he made eye contact with you. You knew exactly why he did the gesture every time he came in, but how long did this guy hold grudges for? It wasn’t like you publicly humiliated him or anything. 

“Why are you always looking at me like that?” you asked him one day as the Recovery Lady escorted him to one of the vacant cots, leg stretched out as you leaned back in your chair. 

“Hah? Like what?” he grunted in your direction as he took a seat, an eyebrow raised in curiosity? Irritation? Probably both.

“Mm,” you looked up to the roof as if you were thinking, “Like you like me or something, I mean it’s really flattering but you don’t have to sta—”

“As if. I’d rather watch an elephant take a dump than stare at your face any day,” Bakugou inputted as he lifted his arm to allow Recovery Lady to heal the injury along his bicep.

“Oh really? I didn’t know you were into that kind of stuff, Bakugou,” 

You fidgeted with the pen in your hand as you watched his face scrunch up. 

“You know what—”

Just as he was about to rise and stand from his spot, Recovery Lady quickly and gently pushed him to sit back down. 

“Y/N,” she emphasized your name with a familiar tone, “I think we’re running low on bandages, could you go get some from the storage room?” 

Even though her words were anything but hostile, you and Bakugou could tell she was scolding you. You let out a sigh. 

“Yeah, I can,” 

Getting up from your seat, you set your things down before making your way to the door. Not before stealing one more glance at Bakugou. He was also staring back at you, but this time there was a bit of cockiness in his eyes. Getting the last word never hurt anybody.

You slid the door open, eyes still locked with his, “You know, you’d probably look cute as well if you didn’t look like you were constipated 24/7,” 

“The fuck—”

Quickly sticking your tongue out at him, you shut the door before he was able to finish his sentence.

———

The nurse’s office had been particularly quiet today. The slow day in the office gave you more free time to yourself, which allowed you to catch up on a couple past assignments. Only two or three people came in before the lunch bell rang. After packing your bag, you waved off Recovery Lady as you excused yourself to the cafeteria.

And when you returned, it was still quiet. You quickly noticed that it was also void of Recovery Lady, the short woman nowhere to be seen. As you slid the door shut behind you, you heard a hushed groan come from one of the beds. Your head snapped to the source of the noise, quietly stepping closer to the person. 

Almost naturally, you recognized the disheveled blonde hair. Bakugou. 

But this was different. New. He was quiet for once, and the eyes that almost always were glaring at you were closed shut. Your body relaxed at the unusual sight of him. And maybe if you were crazy, you would’ve thought he was cute. 

As you got closer, you noticed the slight crease in his eyebrows, as well as the bandage that was wrapped around his torso. 

Perhaps you got too caught up in the moment, though. Too caught up in the way his chest slowly rose with each breath, the way his skin seemed to glow under the sun’s filtered light. So caught up that you didn’t realize those familiar crimson eyes were staring back up at you.

“You a pervert now?” his voice cut through silence, causing you to tense and step back. “The hell are you looking at?”

For a moment, it felt like your voice was caught in your throat. You caught yourself trying to find something to look at. Something other than him.

“Looks like you’re in quite a predicament,” you commented with a breathy laugh, not really knowing what else to say. Stupid joke.

“No, really?” sarcasm was laced in his tone, but you could hear the struggle as he grunted quietly afterwards.

Maybe you’d spare him for the day.

“Recovery Lady hasn’t gotten to you, yet?” you asked as you slowly made your way to your desk, setting down your bag.

“Nah,” he let out a huff as he sat up, “Shit— she wasn’t here when I got here,”

Letting out a hum in response, “Do… Do you want me to help you then?” you asked, even though you already knew the likely answer.

“What the hell do you think—” 

“You know, on second thought I have some homework—”

He let out an exasperated sigh before surrendering once again, “Yes. Yes, please. Help me,”

Biting back a small smile, you turned back around to make your way back to the injured man. You pulled up a chair next to the bed, sliding in closer. After gesturing him to lay back down, your hands carefully peeled back the bandages that covered the wound. You’d never get used to the sight of blood. 

You could feel the way his body tensed every time your hand neared his injury, though you tried your best not to touch it at all. 

“Sorry if it hurts a little,” you said, lifting your hands over the gash, “Just do your best to relax,”

“Whatever,” Bakugou responded as he turned his head away from you. 

It happened in a flash. From his peripheral view, he saw your hands glow, and the next thing he knew: he was fine again. Not a scar, scratch, or wound in sight. Like it wasn’t even there. 

Though you enjoyed the perplexed look in his eyes, you could feel yourself becoming rather light-headed. You took a deep breath before standing up and going back to your desk to get your water bottle. 

As you took a sip of your water, you watched as he sat up in the cot, lifting up his shirt to examine the skin. 

“Never seen a quirk before?” you laughed at his amusement.

His face quickly snapped back to his normal grouchy look, “No, just didn’t know you had a quirk at all, you usually just bandage my injuries up. Plus healing quirks are rare,”

“Mm, I get that a lot,” you mused, twisting the cap back onto your water, “It’s just a normal healing quirk though. I’ve been working with Recovery Lady to train it’s capabilities,”

Bakugou grunted in response. Silence filled the room for a moment before he decided to speak up. 

“Gonna head back to class,” he stated curtly, swiftly putting his blazer back on before stepping towards the door, “Thanks, I guess,” 

With one last glance back at you, he was gone. Leaving you and the rapid thumping of your heart alone in the room once again. 

———

“Is anyone sitting here?” a gruff voice came from above.

With the rest of the noise in the cafeteria, you nearly didn’t hear him. Your eyes gazed up from your food toward him, eyebrow shooting up in question.

“Uhm,” you swallowed the food in your mouth before responding, “what does it look like to you?” 

You gestured to the empty seats around you before going back to poking at your lunch.

“Tch, just asking,” Bakugou murmured under his breath as he tugged a chair out from under the table and took a seat.

As you ate, you couldn’t help but sneak a couple of glances his way. Just why was he sitting with you? Was this his own silent way of tormenting you?

“So,” you started before clearing your throat, “what do you want?”

You could see him freeze mid-bite, eyes shooting up to you.

“To eat? What else?” he grunted nonchalantly.

Well no shit.

“Oh really? Didn’t know that,” you rolled your eyes, “why not eat with your friends?”

“Don’t wanna,”

Your lips pulled into a thin line before you gave up. You dismissed him as you continued to finish your lunch. After this you’d probably have enough time to take a nap in the nurse’s office. In an attempt to finish your food without starting some random argument with the blonde next to you, you kept the interactions to a minimum.

After you finished, you debated your options. Did you say goodbye or just… leave? Just leaving would be rude, wouldn’t it? Well who cares, you sure don’t–

“Hold on,” he called out, catching your attention.

You watched as he quickly finished the rest of his lunch, gathering his stuff before standing up. 

“What–”

“Alright, let’s go,” he said as he walked past you towards the garbage can.

“Uh,” you followed shortly after him with your trash, “go where?”

Stacking his tray with the others, he sent you a glare with a rough, “Where else?” 

When you didn’t respond with a word but instead with a confused look, Bakugou sighed and continued. 

“The nurse’s office,” 

Your mouth dropped open in a silent “Ohh”. You tugged your bag over your shoulder as you walked up next to him.

 The walk through the halls was rather silent other than the couple of students that walked past the two of you. But not a word was said between the two of you. At least until he opened his mouth. 

“So, what are your plans after graduating?” he asked, hands in his pocket as he continued to walk by you. 

You let your eyes scan the exterior through the wide UA windows when you responded, “Hm, I think I’ll find a job in a hospital? I think I wanna work in some field with heroes, but I’m not quite sure yet… And you?”

“Obviously I’m gonna a hero,” Bakugou scoffed with a smirk, “Gonna be the best one, at that,” 

“I see,” you let a light laugh slip out at his confidence.

“What’s funny, huh?” he asked, voice suddenly scarily serious. 

Your eyes widened, “Nothing, nothing– It’s just we barely have normal conversations like this. I guess,” you quickly added.

Bakugou hummed in response, coming to a quick stop as the two of you reached the nurse’s office’s door. 

“Well,” you step closer to the door, “Thank you for walking me here, Bakugou,” you smiled.

“Katsuki,”

“Hm?”

He rolled his eyes, “Just call me Katsuki,” he turned the other way quickly before waving you off, “Later, nerd,” 

A laugh escaped you as you watched him walk away, waiting a couple of more moments before walking into the office.

Maybe if you stared for a little longer you would’ve seen the way his ears reddened at your smile.

———

“Oh! Good afternoon Bakugou and Kirishima!” the voice of the elderly woman snapped you awake, causing you to jump in your seat.

You could hear a snicker come from a certain person as you turned to see the two who entered the room.

Your eyes were met with a seemingly beaten up Kirishima and Bakugou, the two having scruffs, scratches and bruises on their skin.

“What were you guys doing this time?” Recovery Lady escorted the two to their own beds, tending to Bakugou’s injuries and gesturing to you to help Kirishima.

“Ah, just training, same as always,” the red head responded with a smile, “Oh, hey Y/N,”

You could feel the ends of your mouth tug upwards at his greeting, “Hey,”

“How’s everything been?” 

As you continued your chatter with Kirishima and helped him with his injuries, you didn’t seem to see or feel the daggers of stares that Bakugou sent in your direction.

On the other hand, Bakugou didn’t even know why he felt like this. 

What was he pissed about? It’s not like the two of you are friends. Did you consider him a friend? Yet why did it feel so utterly annoying to watch you interact with some other guy? 

That was beyond Bakugou. 

Maybe he already knew the answer. And maybe he didn’t want to come to terms with what that answer held.

Either way he couldn’t take another second of this.

“Bakugou? Where are you going—”

The sound of Recovery Lady’s frantic voice caught the attention of you and Kirishima. Your eyebrow raised in confusion as the blonde made his way to the door with the little lady following him.

“You’re not fully healed yet,” the old woman claimed.

“It’s fine,” 

“Let him,” Kirishima said after Bakugou slammed the door shut. “He’s been a little off lately,”

You wrapped a bandage around Kirishima’s elbow, “Off? How?”

Kirishima’s eyes looked up in thought, “He’s been kinda closed off lately; barely comes to our hangouts,”

“Ooh,” you sighed as you continued helping the guy in front of you.

There was a seedling of worry planted in your stomach, and you barely had any clue why. It’s not like you guys were close. He was just some guy who came to the nurse’s office like every other student. Maybe those late nights staying up were finally catching up to you. 

After cleaning up and sending Kirishima off, you were finally left alone. Recovery Lady had left a while ago to fetch some supplies from the storage room. And so that left you and your thoughts alone in the office.

———

A week had gone by.

A week had gone by, and there had been radio silence from Bakugou.

Either training had slowed down or he was completely avoiding you. And either way, it still made you a bit sad. Only a bit. 

Days in the nurse’s office were slow and lonely. You never made a real connection with anyone. People came and people left. They come to get healed and leave. No side talk, albeit a few exceptions. Bakugou being one of those.

 There were times where you thought you saw him entering the nurse’s office when you were leaving, but the glimpses were so small that you chalked it up to your imagination.

It felt like he was consuming your every thought, so you had no choice but to accept the fact that maybe you had a crush on Bakugou. Maybe.

But so what? That was normal, everyone had a crush on him at one point. Too bad you fell victim along with the rest of them, though.

Admitting to yourself that you liked Bakugou was hard, but having to actually deal with the feelings you had was harder. One, because you’ve never really had a serious crush. And two, he was nowhere to be seen. Having a crush on him made your heart beat so quick that you’d use your quirk on yourself to make sure you weren’t having heart problems.

Soon, one week turned into two.

And it seemed like the office was only getting busier as the third years prepared for their finals. Everyone was in and out as they practiced their hand to hand combat more vigorously and more often.

The first couple of days, it was easy. But towards the end of the week, you began to fatigue. Having to balance your own finals and running around the office having to use your quirk over and over was doing a number on you. 

The injuries were becoming worse, the amount was increasing. At times, you were dizzy with how many times you’d have to keep turning around from bed to bed to help someone new. 

Then there was a calm. You barely noticed a full week of finals had swung by, leaving the clinic empty and quiet. 

“Is it alright if I nap during the passing period?” you turn in your chair to Recovery Lady, who is stocking up the medicine cabinets.

“Of course, you should be fine, if anything I can handle anyone who comes in,” she tells you.

You sigh in relief as you walk to the nearest bed on weak legs, basically melting into it as soon as your body hits the cushion. You knock out on the spot, letting your well-deserved slumber overcome you.

———

 Your slumber is interrupted by a slight jolt to the bed frame you’re lying on. You groan as you flip onto your other side. The light escapes through your lashes, creating a blurred light illusion with a silhouette. Your eyes shot open, a silhouette? 

You become conscious of yourself as soon as you realize the one before you is none other than Bakugou Katsuki. There’s a stupid grin on his face which makes you want to slap it right off of him. You sneakily nudge at the drool on the side of your mouth and adjust your clothing and appearance.

“Finally awake, sleeping beauty?” he says from the seat beside you, and it feels like forever since you’ve last heard that voice of his.

“Yeah, because of someone,” you grumbled, eyebrows scrunching up. He laughs, laughs, as his eyes focus on you.

“It’s getting late,” is all he says.

You have half a mind to respond, until you remember that he’s been avoiding you. Your eyebrows tighten together impossibly closer, as you flip to face away from him.

“You’re a dick,” you say matter-of-factly. “You’ve been avoiding me, I’m not stupid,”

Your eyes are jittery as they look everywhere. Trying to focus on something in the room to distract yourself from all of the possibilities of what might come out of his mouth.

“Why do you care?”

His words cause you to sit up, facing him once more. “What do you even mean, why? I used to see you everyday, then suddenly you just walked out and I never saw you again,”

Bakugou’s eyes slightly roll at your words, and it kind of hurts.

“I just thought maybe we were…” your words trail off causing Bakugou to stare at you more intently.

“Were what?”

“I don’t know, friends, or some shit,” you bury your head in your hands out of embarrassment.

“Did I say we weren’t?”

“Well, you never said we were,”

“Didn’t think I had to,” he says, “Thought you were smarter than that, doc,”

You smile at the nickname. “You can leave now, I’m awake, I just have to close up the clinic. Why were you here in the first place?”

“Had to make sure you weren’t dead or something,”

Laughing, you get up to fix the bed sheets. The words that fly out of your mouth come out on their own. 

“What, do you like me or something?”

“Probably,”

His careless response didn’t register in your mind at first, but when it did, you could feel the heat rush from the back of your neck up to the tips of your ears. 

“W-What? You can’t just say that… weirdo,” your eyes flick up at him then back down to the sheets, fluffing up the already neat pillows. 

Silence filters through the room, the only noise filling your ears being the noise of cotton and linen being moved around. Along with the sound of your heartbeat thumping in your ears. It felt so loud, that you swear he could probably hear it as well. You didn’t know what to do, was this real life?

Did those words really just come out of his mouth?

His head tilted and you could feel his gaze on you. It was nerve-wracking, and you were just hoping and praying he’d say something that’d clear your mind. A small, “just kidding,” would be nice right about now. The hurt you’d feel from that would be better than the anxiety you felt at this instant. 

“Say what?” he mocks, and it causes your eye to twitch.

You decide you’re not playing these games with Katsuki Bakugou today, “Oh nothing, must’ve been the wind,” you flutter your eyes before turning the other direction to fix up another bed that looks like it’d been used.

A hand on your wrist puts a stop to your motions, and it immediately makes your head turn back to meet his eyes. 

“B- Katsuki–”

You’d usually be able to come up with something snarky, but right now all your words were caught in your throat. You were actually scared to say the wrong thing for once.

“You were joking right?” you ask him, nervous for what his answer might be.

Bakugou is quick to retort, “Depends, were you?”

You gulp down your anxiety before giving him a response, “N-No,”

“Then? Use that smart little brain of yours, doc,”

“Say it,” you demand, “I’m not playing this little game with you, so say it,”

His ruby eyes roll before connecting gazes with yours once again, “I like you, or something,” he mimics your words from earlier.

You can feel yourself fluster. The dizziness in your head almost made you convince yourself that you were dreaming. If this was a dream, you wanted All Might himself to pop out and punch you across the face.

“Why don’t you say something now, hm?” his grip around your wrist loosens to a more gentle grasp.

His face closens to yours, the distance between the two of you is only breaths-length. 

“Since you’re so smart, you tell me,” you sass, “Take a guess, smartass,” 

A smile quirks at the corner of his mouth, “You’re such a dick,” he whispers under his breath before closing the distance completely, his lips locking with yours. 

Your eyes widen at the pure shock, but you ultimately melt into the kiss. It’s sweet and you can feel the two of you smiling into it. 

When the two of you part, you can feel slight embarrassment wash over you. “You’re an ass, you didn’t even let me confess, my high school sweetheart experience is ruined forever, 

Bakugou lets out a breathy laugh at your words, “Thought you wanted me to take a guess,” 

“And if you were wrong?” 

“Hah, as if,”

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[wingedjellyfishflight]

Harem in Reverse

"You're soon to be 26, Your Royal Highness. You must put together your harem soon or risk being married off to whomever the regent chooses for you." You sigh, nodding in agreement. Choosing a direct husband would be against the rules, and frankly, you weren't interested in interviewing for the perfect man. Choosing many for their adherence to various qualities, though. That would be a good choice. "Shall I put forth a call for certain attributes? Strong arms? Large chest? Impressive intellect?"

"No, I want to review the troops this week. I will find my consorts among the best our nation has to offer." The advisor looks stunned.

"Your Royal Highness, those are rough men. They do not have the breeding or training to handle you gently as a consort should. They are-."

"Advisor Williams, I know what attributes I am looking for. Schedule me to review the best of the troops, then. If none catch my eye, then I will consider others." The advisor nods, frustrated at not being heeded, but knowing they must follow a direct order.

The following week, you are almost nervous while getting ready, the beginning of butterflies in your stomach. If you weren't so tired, you're sure it would be worse, but the night before was yet another attempt on your life. They are becoming more frequent and more violent now.

Sighing, you hurry to the courtyard where your mount, Rosebud, is waiting. A gift that you feel had been meant to be another threat on your life. The mount was no ordinary horse or pony. Instead, it was the largest draft mule you had ever seen. If you had treated him like a horse, you're sure the thing would have stomped within minutes. He was a vain creature who had to be sweet-talked and treated with utmost respect before he would agree to do much of anything. He was covered in whip and spur scars, telling anyone that he was difficult to force submission from, despite their best efforts. Not that you thought anyone could force an animal born of a mammoth jack donkey and a Shire horse to submit physically. You loved each and every scar, the signs of his stubborn nature on display for all to see.

"Hello, sweet boy." You greet him and let him snuffle you over, waving off the over eager stable hand. "May I ride you today? I am to inspect the troops." He blows a huff of air and turns his head away. You slide your hand along his proud neck and across his withers to the saddle. Checking it over, you deem it done well enough and climb on his back. Your legs spread wide across his broad barrel. Your advisors turn away, knowing that you will refuse their most strident pleas to ride sidesaddle.

"Let us inspect the troops." With that, the company is off at a quick walk to the parade grounds. Your group of advisors and the personal guard that you only marginally trust join the General and his entourage at the front of the formation. You strongly dislike the General. He is somehow the worst mix of ass kissing and condescending.

"The army is excited to be inspected this morning, Your Royal Highness." You barely manage to cover your snort. There is no way they are happy to be here standing in the sun to be inspected on your whim. You move from company to company, looking over the men and pointing out individuals to be inspected, but seeing none you would consider as consort. Reaching the special forces, the rabid dogs as your advisors refer to them, the General is incensed to see that the leader of one is missing.

"Where is the Captain? This is not an optional inspection!"

A man steps forward, "He was injured in a skirmish this week and is still confined to the hospital, General Argus." Looking over the group, you see several still sport bandages and healing abrasions. You nudge your mount closer, his ears perked forward in a match to your curiosity. The General apologizes to you for the disrespect of the men for not appearing but is cut off.

"Your Royal Highness. Escaping the hospital took longer than predicted. For that, I sincerely apologize." You turn, seeing a man limping toward the formation at a quick pace. This must be the Captain. As he falls in, you dismount your mule, resting your hand on his broad neck. Your personal guard hurriedly surrounds you, standing much too close. Rosebud takes exception to being crowded, ears flattening against his head. He strikes out like a snake. His teeth click just shy of the nearest man, who stumbles back yelling and unsheathes a sword. Without a thought, you draw your own ceremonial dagger.

"Touch one hair on Rosebud, and I will gut you." Everyone around you freezes before slowly backing away. "I will not be crowded by your incompetent forms when I am here to inspect the troops." They retreat from your anger, not wanting to risk you calling for their death. Rosebud drops his head, relaxing, and you absentmindedly rub his long ear the way he loves. His lip twitches and his eyes half close for a moment before he pulls away. You step forward, and Rosebud matches your pace, keeping his shoulder just behind yours. It took months to build up a relationship with him, and now he is putty in your hands most days.

An advisor tries to signal you to stay back, but you ignore them, your eyes on the men, looking for the best of them. You memorize the name of the Captain and another likely candidate, signaling Advisor Williams to your side. He groans but carefully walks to you, eyes locked on the increased alertness of Rosebud.

"I will have an audience with this Captain Price and Colonel König. As soon as the men are dismissed. In private." You walk forward and give a cursory inspection to the man who had spoken on the Captain's behalf. His uniform is impeccable, you are happy to see. You don't want them punished on your behalf. The smirk on his face beneath his mask sends a thrill through you. Another man who is not cowed by your station. That is important in advisors. Lieutenant Riley, his uniform says. You nod and mount Rosebud again, rejoining the pack of advisors to inspect the remaining troops. No others catch your eye.

Walking into your State room, you signal for everyone except the two soldiers to leave. While unusual, they are compelled to do so by your haughty glares and Advisor Williams guiding them away, barring the doors behind him and standing guard. Sitting in your throne, you drag your eyes over the men. Colonel König is wearing his customary face covering, and Captain Price has the cover he is well-known for in his hands.

"I have a proposal for you both that I want you to carefully consider. This proposal will not be spoken of again if you decline and it will not leave this room." The men perk up, and you see heat in their eyes as they consider one of the possibilities of your words. "I need advisors who are not advisors." That throws them off, and you see the Colonel shift uneasily. "These advisors would be the closest of any man or woman to me. They would teach and protect me with their very lives. My life is under threat and has been since the King and Queen died, my uncle taking over as Regent. I need advisors who will help me oust him and take my rightful place on the throne without contest and without raising his suspicions. Thus, I need men who will join my harem." You pause, savoring the way their faces change as they process this.

"Your Royal Highness, are you asking us to find you men to join your harem? That is most unusual, but we will do our best." You shake your head at Captain Price.

"Yes, but not in the way you are thinking. I am asking the two of you to join my harem and to advise me on the best men to round out such a harem. To be advisors and leaders in removing the despot from his fake throne. To be my lovers, spoiled in every way and to guard me from all attempts on my life. I want you both, and I trust you to choose others and to bring them to me for approval. If you decline this position, we shall never speak on it again."

"Yes, I would be honored to be chosen for your harem, Your Royal Highness." Colonel König does not hesitate to agree. He feels he has loved you from afar for years, and this is an opportunity he will not squander.

"I would be as well, Your Royal Highness." Captain Price is confident that declining now would be a mistake, and he is not a man prone to mistakes. "I have a few men in mind that would be good additions. They are a bit of a package deal." You nod, expecting as much.

"Their names?"

"John MacTavish, Simon Riley and Kyle Garrick, Your Royal Highness."

"I have two in mind that would be good choices as well. Hiro Watanabe and Kim Hong-jin. They are foreign, but good, loyal and strong men, Your Royal Highness."

The smile you bestow them with is almost a surprise to the men. "Then, I wish for you to gather your men and their belongings. You will join me tonight, my consorts."

"Yes, Your Royal Highness." The men bow and leave, stunned at the way this meeting has gone. You order Advisor Williams to prepare the harem quarters and pack your own belongings secretly. It would be folly to live apart from the men who will be your new private guard and you would be lying if you weren't excited to see under those perfectly done uniforms.

[leona-hawthorne]

INTERRUPTIONS. mattheo riddle

mattheo riddle x fem reader

summary ; part two of aurora. months after the events of part one, you and mattheo find peace with your daughter. word count ; 1.9k warnings ; fluff, kissing, a little suggestive towards the end

navigation mattheo riddle masterlist part one

The golden sun dipped lazily into the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the water as the gentle waves of the Mediterranean Sea lapped at the shore. The salty breeze played with the strands of your hair as you stood on the porch of the villa, a soft smile tugging at your lips. Laughter drifted up from the beach in front of you, where Mattheo and Aurora were splashing in the shallow water.

It was surreal, this happiness—like something out of a dream you hadn’t dared to imagine. After everything that had happened, all the hurt, the lost years, the anger... you never thought you’d find this peace again. But here you were, with Mattheo and your daughter, the man you loved more than anything and the little girl who had become his entire world.

Mattheo’s deep laughter rang out, followed by Aurora’s shrieks of delight as he scooped her up into his arms, spinning her around in the water. Her curls—so much like his—bounced with every spin, and the look on her face was pure joy.

“Higher, Daddy! Higher!” she giggled, her small arms flung around his neck.

Mattheo obliged, lifting her high above his head as she squealed with laughter, the two of them a picture of pure bliss against the backdrop of the fading sun. You couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your chest at the sight. It had been only six months since Mattheo had reentered your life, but it felt like he had been with you and Aurora forever.

You leaned against the railing, watching them with a soft smile, your heart swelling with love for both of them. It hadn’t been easy. There were still moments where the past threatened to creep up on you both, but every day, the wounds healed a little more. Every day, Mattheo became more of a father to Aurora, and the anger that had once consumed him slowly melted away.

It was strange how life could change so drastically in such a short time. Six months ago, Mattheo had been a broken man, torn apart by years in Azkaban, weighed down by the burden of the war. But now, as you watched him with Aurora—his laughter so unrestrained, his smile so genuine—it was as if he had found a new kind of freedom. The kind he had never known before.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear him approach until his arms snaked around your waist, pulling you close from behind. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice warm against your ear.

“Hey,” you replied, leaning back into him with a contented sigh.

Aurora’s laughter still echoed from the beach, and you both watched as she twirled in the water, chasing after the waves like they were her own personal playground.

“She’s got your energy,” you said with a smile, turning your head to glance at him.

Mattheo grinned, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “She’s got your stubbornness,” he teased, his voice soft. “She never gets tired.”

You laughed, resting your head against his chest as his arms tightened around you. The weight of his body behind you was a comforting reminder that he was here, with you, with Aurora. And that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said after a moment, his voice dipping into something more serious. “Everything okay?”

You turned in his arms to face him, your fingers brushing through his damp curls. “More than okay,” you whispered, your gaze tracing the familiar lines of his face. His eyes, so intense and filled with emotion, held yours in that way that always made your heart skip a beat. “I’m just... happy. I didn’t think this was possible.”

Mattheo’s brow furrowed slightly, as if he understood exactly what you meant. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think I’d ever have this again either,” he admitted, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek. “But we’re here. And I’m not going to waste another second.”

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling with so much love that it felt like it might burst. You stood on your toes, capturing his lips in a soft, lingering kiss. When you pulled back, Mattheo was smiling that lazy, lopsided smile that had always made you weak in the knees.

“Race you to the beach?” he teased, mischief dancing in his eyes.

You raised an eyebrow. “You know I’ll win, right?”

He smirked. “I like a challenge.”

Before you could respond, he grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the few stairs that led down the porch. You laughed, letting him tug you along as the two of you sprinted toward the water. Aurora’s eyes lit up when she saw you both coming, her little legs kicking up sand as she ran to meet you.

“Mama! Daddy!” she called, her laughter infectious as she threw herself into Mattheo’s arms.

He leaned down and caught her easily, spinning her around again as you stopped to catch your breath, watching them with a smile. It was moments like this that made everything worth it—the laughter, the love, the feeling of being a family.

Mattheo set Aurora down gently, and she immediately ran to you, wrapping her arms around your legs. “Are you gonna play with us, Mama?” she asked, her wide eyes filled with hope.

You knelt down, brushing a few loose curls out of her face. “Of course, sweetheart,” you said softly, your heart melting at the sight of her happy, smiling face.

As the three of you played in the sand, chasing waves and building castles, the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over everything. And for the first time in a long time, you felt completely at peace.

Mattheo caught your eye from across the water, his smile soft and full of love. He mouthed something to you, something that made your heart skip a beat.

“I love you.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the people you loved most in the world, you knew that no matter what had happened in the past, no matter how many years had been lost, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

The villa was dimly lit, the soft glow of candlelight flickering around the room as you and Mattheo lounged on the bed. The sounds of the summer night drifted through the open window, a gentle breeze carrying the distant murmur of the sea.

You and Mattheo exchanged a glance, a mutual understanding passing between you. Aurora had finally gone to bed after a long day of beach games and ice cream, and the two of you were eagerly anticipating some alone time. The anticipation had been building all day, and now you were ready to let loose.

Mattheo's hands roamed over your body, his fingers brushing against your skin as his lips found yours. The kisses quickly grew more intense, filled with the heat of both longing and frustration.

The two of you were so caught up in each other, you nearly forgot about the world outside.

Just as Mattheo's fingers began to explore more eagerly, a small, high-pitched voice cut through the darkness.

"Mama! Daddy!"

You both froze, eyes wide as the sound of tiny feet scurrying across the floor reached your ears. Your heart skipped a beat as you pulled back from Mattheo, trying to gather your composure.

Aurora's little face peered around the door, her wide eyes taking in the scene with innocent curiosity. "Mama, I need to tell you something."

Mattheo let out a groan, his head falling back onto the pillow in frustration. You scrambled to cover yourself, desperately trying to hide the evidence of your interrupted plans.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" you asked, trying to sound calm despite your racing heart and the heat rising in your cheeks.

Aurora, still standing in the doorway, shuffled her feet and glanced around. "I can't find Mr. Fluffypaws."

You blinked, your mind struggling to process the interruption. Mr. Fluffypaws was a well-loved stuffed bunny that Aurora couldn't sleep without. "Oh, honey," you said, trying to keep your voice steady, "Mr. Fluffypaws is probably just under the covers or somewhere in the room. We'll find him."

Aurora's eyes filled with tears. "But I can't sleep without him! And I was so scared, I thought he might be lost!"

Mattheo, now propped up on his elbows, shot you an apologetic look, a mixture of exasperation and amusement in his eyes. "Of course, we'll find him," he said with a sigh, his tone softening as he slid off the bed and walked over to Aurora.

He crouched down to her level, forcing a smile. "Okay, little one, let's find Mr. Fluffypaws together.”

Aurora's face lit up with hope, and she skipped into the room, her tiny hands clutching the edge of her blanket.

Mattheo began to search the room, lifting pillows and checking under the bed while you tried to pull yourself together, your cheeks still flushed.

You took a deep breath, adjusting your clothes as you joined in the search.

"Aurora, sweetie, where did you last see Mr. Fluffypaws?"

Aurora thought for a moment, her brow furrowed in concentration. "I think I left him in the living room.."

You and Mattheo exchanged a look of relief and barely concealed frustration.

Mattheo let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he stood up. "Alright, let's go check the living room."

The three of you made your way to the living room, Aurora bouncing with excitement at the thought of finding her beloved bunny. Mattheo and you followed, trying to ignore the lingering heat between you, which had all but evaporated with the interruption.

As you entered the living room, Aurora's face brightened when she spotted Mr. Fluffypaws on the couch, looking as if he had been waiting for her all along.

She picked him up with a triumphant cheer and hugged him tightly. "You found him!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with relief.

Mattheo and you exchanged a knowing smile, your frustration melting into laughter as you watched Aurora cuddle her stuffed bunny. You gently ruffled her hair, leaning down to give her a kiss on the forehead.

"Now that you've found Mr. Fluffypaws, are you ready to go back to bed?" you asked, your voice soothing.

Aurora nodded vigorously, her tired eyes already drooping. "Yes, Mama. Thanks, Daddy."

Mattheo smiled, lifting her into his arms and carrying her back to her room. You followed, your heart swelling with affection as you watched them.

Mattheo tucked Aurora into bed, brushing her curls away from her face.

"Goodnight, Aurora," Mattheo said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Goodnight, Daddy," she murmured, already half-asleep.

As you and Mattheo finally made your way back to your room, the earlier tension had faded into a comfortable camaraderie. You both knew that there would be other moments for intimacy,but right now, the joy of seeing Aurora happy and safe was more than enough.

You climbed back into bed, settling against Mattheo's chest as he wrapped his arms around you. He kissed the top of your head, his laughter soft and warm against your ear.

"Well," he said, his voice tinged with amusement, "at least we know Mr. Fluffypaws won't be interrupting us again."

You laughed, your heart full and content. "Yeah, I suppose so."

© leona-hawthorne 2025. please do not copy, translate or repost any of my writing.

[deadsetobsessions]

DC X DP WRITING PROMPT:

Danny can hear the screams of the dead, the echoes of ghosts- shades of the dead- unpowered by ectoplasm. It’s his right as the High King of the Infinite Realms.

And during his weekly floats through his home planet to de-stress (no one ever attacks during these floats because a cranky and stressed Danny is a bad time for everyone involved), he comes across the Joker, torturing Tim Drake into becoming Joker Junior. More like he was lead there by the vortex of shades screaming at Joker to let the kid go and versions other threats or incoherent screams of pain and hatred.

He punts the clown into the sun (or in a ditch because Gotham is not known for her love of the thing called “sunlight”) and gathers up a sobbing Tim (JJ) who’s cackling through his tears like the laugh is being torn out of him, and flies away. Danny figures out his own personal ectoplasm shots help the insanity because Tim’s died before (and got brought back) via electro therapy shocks. Danny sees so much of himself in Tim and the potential for both immense good and immense evil and realizing they’re both choosing to seclude themselves to not harm others (Tim locks himself in his room to stop throwing things at Danny when he slips into insanity- which, it doesn’t actually affect Danny because he can turn intangible). Danny realizes that it’s not healthy and it doesn’t make anyone happy, so he works with himself and Tim to heal. Basically, Tim and Danny finds family in each other and heals while Batman, Nightwing, and Alfred loses their shit searching for Tim (“YOU LET JOKER KILL ANOTHER ONE OF MY BROTHERS, B!) (I WON’T LET YOU SHOULDER THE WEIGHT OF KILLING SOMEONE.) (I WOULD SHOULDER ANYTHING IF IT MEANT KEEPING TIM SAFE FROM THE JOKER!!!) (I can’t lose another son, Alfred) (I know, master Bruce. I know.)

Anyways, they find themselves back and Jason’s like hey I’m gonna kill the next Robin- oh wait Joker’s dead huh how’d that happen and then he’s like wtf do you mean “joker junior” wtf wtf wtf

Aunt Harley gets some of her own therapy and tracks Danny down to apologize to Tim, but stays away just in case she triggers an attack. She’s a villain, she’s done some horrible things and felt no guilt for it, but Tim was a line she thought she’d never cross and it kills her

[gibberishfangirl]

WIND BREAKER | heart breaker

Synopsis ✰ head cannons of the boys falling for a notorious heart breaker

Characters ✰ Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Akihiko Nirei, Jo Togame, Choji Tomiyama

Contains ✰ sfw! content of the boys being down bad for someone they shouldn’t be/isn’t good for them

★ inspired by bubblegum bitch by marina ★

Haruka Sakura ᡣ𐭩

★ i’m the girl you’d die for ★

♡ fell in love before he even knew it

♡ down bad horrendously

♡ he’ll do anything for you

♡ he’s heard the rumors before meeting you but chose to ignore them and get to know you

♡ was a blushing mess once you started giving him all your attention

♡ you found his shyness and his ability to get easily flustered charming

♡ he was different to you

♡ you fell for him before you knew it

♡ acted like a couple before you two were official

♡ even after you made it official his feelings never changed

♡ he was completely whipped

♡ he got teased a lot for being so in love

♡ he fell first but you fell harder (and he doesn’t even know it)

♡ in awe by your beauty 24/7

♡ 100% loses himself while admiring you

♡ finds it hard to concentrate around you

♡ has the urge to protect you from the world

♡ after you met him no other guy ever caught your attention again

♡ definitely fought any ex who couldn’t accept you moved on

Hajime Umemiya ᡣ𐭩

★ hit me with your sweet love, steal me with a kiss ★

♡ he was well aware of your reputation

♡ didn’t let it sway him

♡ didn’t fall in love until you kissed him

♡ he thought you were the sweetest person to exist

♡ couldn’t believe someone as nice as you could ever be known as a “heart-breaker”

♡ friends to lovers

♡ once he got taste of you he wanted more

♡ secretly craved your attention and love

♡ learned that you never purposefully hurt anyone

♡ you got your reputation from men with fragile egos

♡ he was glad he didn’t listen to the rumors

♡ you actually never even had a boyfriend

♡ he was your first love

♡ he defended you against everyone

♡ “you don’t know her”

♡ “you shouldn’t listen to rumors before getting to know someone.”

♡ would get annoyed if anyone tried to get in between you two

♡ you made the first move

Hayato Suo ᡣ𐭩

★ dear diary, i met a boy he made my doll heart light up with joy ★

♡ you fell first

♡ he didn’t know that you had a reputation

♡ something about him made him stick out more

♡ you didn’t want anyone but him

♡ he thought you were beautiful at first sight

♡ was the only boy who could ever make you blush

♡ you dropped the guy who you were originally talking to for him

♡ he made you feel seen

♡ he made your heart flutter with his genuine love

♡ was the first boy who wanted you for you

♡ didn’t rush you into anything like every other guy did

♡ slow burn

♡ you craved attention, he was willing to give you all of his and more

♡ he made you feel comfortable and loved

♡ the slowest paced relationship you had in the best way possible

♡ his love was soft and gentle

♡ you needed someone like him in your life

♡ helped heal your past wounds

Akihiko Nirei ᡣ𐭩

★ i’ll chew you up and i’ll spit you out ★

♡ he knew you could ruin him

♡ didn’t stop him from wanting you

♡ took the chance of getting hurt anyway

♡ he loved you more than he loved himself

♡ you changed for him (don’t worry you did not break his heart thankfully)

♡ you were moved by how kind and loyal he was towards you

♡ he never judged you

♡ the kindest boy you’ve ever met

♡ you never smiled as much as you did when you were around him

♡ everyone was surprised to see how gentle you’ve become since meeting him

♡ you two communicated very well

♡ he never got mad at you which meant everything to you

♡ handled your emotions with care and respect

♡ never made you feel like you were too much or not enough

♡ he motivated you to become better each day

♡ you never want to hurt him

♡ you ended up falling for him harder in the long run

Jo Togame ᡣ𐭩

★ pull me closer and kiss me hard ★

♡ he was determined to make you fall for him

♡ thought you were the most beautiful person on the planet

♡ knew you just had bad experiences

♡ didn’t trust the rumors because most guys you dated weren’t great guys

♡ he wanted to be utterly consumed by you

♡ his love was strong and gentle, almost consuming but not suffocating

♡ once he had you, he wouldn’t let you go

♡ made it a point to let everyone know you were his

♡ proud to call you his

♡ never ashamed of you

♡ he never wanted to remember what it was like to be without you

♡ easily became your safe space

♡ his presence made you feel free

♡ never brought up your reputation or past relationships

♡ he didn’t care about the past, he only cares about the future you two have

♡ wouldn’t be afraid to tell an ex to get over it

♡ “shoulda realized what you had before, not my problem”

Choji Tomiyama ᡣ𐭩

★ don’t care if you think i’m dumb, i don’t care at all ★

♡ he loved your confidence

♡ others couldn’t keep up with you in relationships, they’d become too insecure with the amount of attraction you have

♡ thought everyone else was dumb for judging you

♡ he wanted you even if others thought he was dumb for liking you

♡ you two matched each other’s energy perfectly

♡ a match made in heaven/hell (your pick tbh)

♡ he wanted to show you off

♡ was proud he had such a pretty thing that he could call his

♡ isn’t afraid to check someone

♡ would never hold you back

♡ never made you feel like you were doing too much

♡ he wanted you to be as free as possible

♡ never questioned your past relationships, unless an ex came back into your life

♡ would 100% beat up your ex if needed

♡ expect constant laughter and smiles whenever you two were near each other

♡ he definitely made you happiest you’ve ever been

♡ if there was ever a moment you felt down about yourself he’d be there to pick you right up

a/n <3 : i might write a part 2 to this ? maybe with some angst and the scenario of a break up happening??? idkkk lmk, i hate writing sad stuff </3 but it’s speaking to meeee!!! ill prolly tone it down 100% if it happens, send help

[bubblebbg]

❝𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞: 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧❞

Mizu x Reader

- Reader in this fic is of some sort of mixed or foreign descent, but this can also be interpreted as having any trait that would make them a pariah of sorts. Warning, not proofread lol. All spur of the moment.

When you found the blue eyed stranger laying bloody on a lonely street, you took her in. You keep her warm, fed, and with mends on her wounds. Mizu knows well that there are sacrifices to be made on her path. She doesn't know just how much they can sting.

Mizu can't quite pinpoint the most irritating part of the pain. The ache of broken bones, the sting of stabs and slices, the consistent ringing in her head; everything hurts, and she supposes that like every other injury, it's all par for the course. Small price to pay for revenge. She knew she'd have to rest at some point, but she didn't expect to be incapacitated, edging on consciousness for days. Every now and then there's a sensation like coolness on her forehead, or water at her lips.

It's on day three that she becomes lucid enough to realize someone's taking care of her. Her distrustful brain is immediately sounding alarms, but her body can do little to react in such a broken state. Mizu can do nothing but lie silent and weak on this futon, sipping medicines and soups when it's brought to her mouth and being patched, cut for cut, wound for wound.

The first thing she notices about you, her caretaker, is your eyes - eyes brimming with concern and care, eyes that catch every weakness of her flesh and seek to heal. She hears your whispers of "poor thing" and "I'll get you healed up in no time". And being Mizu, her first thought is...

"Why?"

She hadn't meant to say it out loud, but she doesn't rush to take it back. Why are you, a stranger, so willing to take care of her? Why are you expending your resources on a broken thing, a mistake that any other sane person would let rot in the street where they found it?

You only smile at her, and in such a way that makes her heart race. Gentle, patient, tentative. She doesn't like it one bit, the way it pulls at doors she's kept locked for years. Her eyes focus, taking in what you look like as you stand and ready yourself to leave the room.

"I don't need your pity!" She manages to choke out. It has you stopping in your tracks.

"It's," she coughs, sputtering on words, "It's because you're just like me, isn't it? You're different. A monster."

The look on your face is one of mild amusement, an eyebrow raised and the corners of your lips upturned. She's not sure if it's that or the confidence in your next words that makes her cheeks heat up.

"I am not a monster. Neither are you."

And you're gone, leaving her to deal with the weight you've left in her chest.

𓆩… . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . …𓆪

The days turn into weeks, the weeks into months. With so many parts impaired, it'd only make sense that healing would take this long. Most of all, it's your endless patience that surprises Mizu. When she reopens a wound by carelessly trying to train despite your cautions, you're there patching it up. When she expresses her frustration with not being able to take up the sword yet, you're there reassuring her that it'll all be fine in time. You're kind when she's haughty and sarcastic (which makes her feel guilty, and thus even more indignant), and this extends to others as well. She often sees you helping children or neighbors, anyone in need. You're loved in this town.

It makes her a bit irritated, seeing your kindness bestowed on others. At first she thinks it's because she sees weakness in your actions. Then she thinks it's jealousy - why are you, someone who would otherwise be an outcast like herself, so beloved by your town? How come it didn't turn out this way for her? But when she sees you cooking enough for the both of you and the family next door, stirring slowly as the food steams, she thinks to herself, god, they're even patient when they're cooking. And then it hits her.

She is jealous, but not in the way she thought. In the way that yearns for your priority, that seeks to be the only recipient of your sweet manners and loving nature.

It doesn't help that you've grown close, too close for her liking. There have been nights spent in each other's company, saying nothing but gazing at stars. There have been conversations in which you've both laughed, some in which you cried. Mizu's mind can't help but remind her that this isn't safe; the last time she opened her heart up, it returned battered.

But this - you - feel safe. You dedicated nearly three months to healing her body, all the while you had been patching up wounds the eye can't see.

"I'm leaving," she says meekly on a warm evening, the two of you sat in a field of grass overlooking your village. You look to her and she only stares forward. You suppose it's better than her leaving without telling you, but the pain is no lesser because of the thought.

You take a deep breath and exhale before answering, "I had a feeling."

There's a long silence between the two of you. It's your turn to watch the sun setting over the trees as Mizu looks at your expression, the hints of sadness in her eyes.

"Do you... do you really have to? You are welcome here, you know. You'll always have a home here with me."

The words have Mizu choking up and suppressing the sudden and unnerving urge to cry. What you've done to her in three months still astounds her.

"I do. You know I do. I was always going to have to leave."

Mizu is caught by another urge, the urge to take those words back when she sees streams on your cheeks. You sniffle and hiccup, and it's so much less pleasant than your usual smiling disposition. It hurts in the way no blade ever could.

The sun is disappearing, and she wills herself to stand. If she doesn't, she might never go. She turns to leave and you stand as well. She stops in her tracks when you tug on her sleeve. She faces you and you slowly, carefully bring a hand to the side of her cheek. When she doesn't flinch away, you lean in close. Your lips meet in a kiss that conveys words that neither of you have the power to say.

You pull back after a moment, your forehead pressed to hers and your eyes closed. Your voice is quiet, almost inaudible when you say your goodbye.

"Break my heart once by leaving. Do not break it again by dying."

She turns and leaves while your eyes are still closed. You open them to an empty field, your palm still wet with her tears.