#She would be horrified and yes this post was brought on because of her.
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Hate when people who are against tattoos pull out the âWhat do you think youâll look like when youâre 65, 70, 75, etc. with those on your body?â card. Like, first of all, I think Iâll look cool as fuck and second of all, why do you care?
#personal#I always say âIâm here for a good time not a long time.â to people in response to that all the time but I canât say it to my mom.#She would be horrified and yes this post was brought on because of her.#She literally has 2 tattoos herselfâŠâŠ. And she wanted a reason to argue against her younger daughter/my sister currently at this#family together. Theyâre always great.#My sister almost has her arm sleeve finished along with some other tattoo scattered elsewhere.#She and me have the most tatttoos in the family and when my mom said something me and her had a comedy sitcom moment.#We literally looked at each other like âUhâŠâ before turning back to my mom LMAOOO#My family is so fun believe meâŠ
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MEOW OR NEVER ౚৠGETO SUGURU X READER
summary: when your mom told you to steer clear of men, you didn't think she meant all of them - fur, whiskers, and all. but hey, maybe naming your cat mr. pickles was where you went wrong, considering she's apparently a mrs. now. and oh, she's pregnant. great. just fantastic. enter suguru geto, your drop-dead gorgeous neighbor, who's not just good at stealing glances but also at being a reluctant father - well, kitten father. turns out, his annoyingly smug orange menace named gojo's the reason you're now an unplanned (grand)parent. is this co-parenting arrangement going to end in peace, or in pieces? or worse, feelings? spoiler alert: suguru geto's got more than just child support to offer, and he's about to prove it in ways that'll have you questioning who the real stray here is.
warnings & tags:Â fluff and crack, eventual romance, no angst, geto is a year older than reader, geto is an (international) law student implied to be rich, reader's college program is not specified, strangers to friends to lovers, eventual smut (oral, f & m + 69). cast: geto, catoru (gojo is a tabby cat), yaga, sukuna, choso, yuuji, shoko, brief mention of utahime and nanami.
author's note: how i feel adding a graphic after not touching any editing apps since eight grade: đșđșđșđșđș. first long-fic on here and it is obviously for my @norikuna <3 i had so much fun writing geto, i hope you like this, and yes i named her mr. pickles after your meet-cute fic/s. âŒïž i recommend reading on ao3, as tumblr's formatting this fic very poorly and often times the fic has long paragraphs mashed together. i'm so sorry, but please enjoy!
chapter one: guess who's expecting (hint: it's not you)
when your mother warned you to stay away from men, you didnât realize she meant all species of men. in your defense, you didnât even know mr. pickles wasâŠwell, a dudette. a full-fledged woman, even.
judging by her usual air of indifference toward the struggles of lifeâwhether it be a broken mug, burnt toast, or the existential dread and fear of capitalism looming over youâyouâd assumed she was male. an assumption, it seems, born of sheer hubris. after all, youâd done thorough background checks on everyone else you let into your life. everyone except the stray cat that had waddled into your overpriced studio apartment one rainy night and decided it was hers.
the truth? you didnât mind. between cramming for your degree and surviving the post-mortem of your relationships (both romantic and platonic, because apparently humans are terrible at consistency), mr. pickles became the one reliable constant in your life. albeit a hairy, aloof constant who occasionally brought you hairballs and dead bugs as sacrificial offerings to her goddess. you, of course, were said goddess.
any normal, functioning adult would have taken her to a shelter, or maybe put up a flyer: âfound: one stray cat, bad attitude included.â but you, lonely soul that you were, took her in. except, it hadnât been that simple. no, the first night you met her was anything but serene.
you were drunk. plastered. wobbling through the door with a bag of takeout in one hand and your heels in the other, ready to collapse onto your bed and dream about a life where rent didnât cost your soul. but instead of an empty apartment greeting you, there she was. sitting smack in the middle of your living room like some furry squattersâ rights advocate, tail flicking with utter disdain.
you froze, still holding the doorknob, as your eyes locked with hers.
"what theâ" you whispered, blinking hard to confirm you werenât hallucinating. nope, she was real.
the cat let out a long, guttural âyeowwwwwwwwwl,â like she was just as horrified by you as you were by her.
you screamed. naturally. "who are you?! how did you get in here?! securityâs supposed to be goodâoh my god, is that a rat?"
she screamed back, launching into an impressive round of yowls that rattled your very bones. it became a chaotic symphony of you, still holding your takeout, pointing at her with your shoe, while she darted back and forth in an apparent panic over your panic.
"okay, okay," you gasped after what felt like hours but was probably five minutes. "justâcalm down! iâll call the cops or animal control orâdo i even know animal controlâs number? is that a thing people know?!"
the cat paused mid-panic, tilting her head as if considering whether you were worth the hassle. then, slowly and with the grace of a self-proclaimed queen, she sat back down.
you stood there, panting, wide-eyed, and still clutching your takeout like a lifeline. "areâŠare you done? can i move now?"
she gave a single chirp in response.
you blinked. "was that a yes?"
another chirp.
"okay, cool. good talk," you muttered, inching toward the kitchen counter to set your stuff down. "you know, you really picked the wrong apartment to haunt, bro. you donât wanna hang out here."
she followed you, hopping onto the counter with zero hesitation.
"oh, youâve got nerve," you grumbled, waving a hand. "get down. thatâsâŠoh my god, is that chicken grease? youâre gonna get salmonella. do cats get salmonella?"
the cat meowed, which you took as a very sarcastic no.
you sighed. "great. now iâve got a cat."
letâs rewind back to the future, to the moment you found out mr. pickles had a party of tiny paws brewing in her belly. it wasnât an epiphany that hit you like a bolt of lightningâno, it was a series of increasingly bizarre events that gradually chipped away at your ignorance until the horrifyingly adorable truth came crashing down.
first, letâs talk about âpinking up.â apparently, around 16-20 days into pregnancy, a catâs nipples turn pinker and more prominentâa fact you learned after a very awkward google search. not that you were actively inspecting mr. picklesâ nipples. that feltâŠwrong. but you did notice, eventually. the weight gain started subtly, a little extra fluff around her midsection that you brushed off as the result of switching to a premium brand of cat food. "guess the organic kibbleâs working," you mumbled one evening as mr. pickles sprawled on the couch like a spoiled heiress. she blinked at you, unimpressed, before rolling onto her side, belly on full display. it was⊠rounder than usual. suspiciously so. but denial is a hell of a drug.
then came the morning she beat you to the bathroom. literally.
you were nursing a wicked hangover, the kind that makes you reconsider every life decision leading up to the night before. groaning, you dragged yourself out of bed and toward the bathroom, only to freeze in the doorway. there was mr. pickles, perched in your shower cubicle, hurling her guts out like sheâd been partying harder than you. "what theâ" you started, but she cut you off with another violent retch. you just stood there, slack-jawed, your own nausea momentarily forgotten. "are you⊠hungover? can cats be hungover?" she ignored you, finishing her business before hopping out of the shower with a nonchalance that screamed youâll clean that up, right?
and the sleeping? donât even get started on the sleeping. mr. pickles, your once lively (read: temperamental) companion, now spent her days passed out in the weirdest positions. youâd leave for class, catch her sprawled upside down on the couch with her legs in the air, and come back hours later to find her in the exact same spot. the first time it happened, you panicked.Â
âmr. pickles?â you whispered, crouching beside her. no response.Â
"oh my god, are you dead?" you poked her back. nothing.Â
just as you were about to call your landlord and have him prepare for the worst, mr. pickles let out the laziest, most judgmental yawn youâd ever heard.
then came the personality shift. the mr. pickles you knewâthe one who hissed at your laptop every time you opened it, as if microsoft word had committed a personal offenseâwas gone. in her place was a clingy, purring ball of affection. she started curling up on your lap while you worked, purring loud enough to rival an industrial saw. âawwww, whoâs a good kitty?â you cooed, melting into the moment. and then she shed enough fur on your clothes to build a second cat.
but the final straw, the one that shattered your fragile understanding of reality, was the nesting.
you came home one evening to find mr. pickles frantically rearranging your laundry basket, clawing at the clothes and dragging them into a fluffy pile. she paused when you entered, her eyes wild with an intensity youâd never seen before.
"uhhâŠwhat are you doing?" you asked, only to be met with a deep, guttural growl. "okay, thatâs new," you muttered, backing away slowly. "you doâŠwhatever that is."
it hit you then. the weight gain, the puking, the clinginess, the nesting. oh my god.
"oh my god," you whispered, clutching the counter for support. "mr. pickles is a girl."
your world tilted. memories of every time you called her sir or buddy flashed before your eyes. you were the problem.
you rushed her to the vet the next day, bursting through the door like a contestant on a reality show. "sheâs been acting weird," you blurted to the receptionist. "and by weird, i meanâŠis she pregnant?"
one checkup later, the vet turned to you with a warm smile and uttered the words that changed everything: âcongratulations, youâre a mother.â
your jaw dropped. "what? no. no, iâm not. sheâsâsheâs the mother!" you gestured wildly to mr. pickles, who was now lounging on the exam table like this was all very boring. the vet chuckled. âwell, technically, that makes you a grandmother.â
a grandmother. you, a college student, were a grandmother.
as you drove home in stunned silence, mr. pickles stretched out in the passenger seat, her belly looking smugly round. you glanced at her, still reeling.
âdoes this mean i have to start calling you mrs. pickles now?â
she purred. of course she purred.
chapter 2: welcome to parenthood, kinda
the day after the vet visit, you were a woman on a mission. holding mr. pickles up like she was a fragile artifact, you found yourself wandering the corridors of your apartment building, knocking on doors and attempting to uncover the truth behind your felineâs unexpected condition. sure, your mother raised you single-handedly, but did that mean you had to take on the role of a cat grandmother solo? absolutely not.
the first stop was masamichi yaga, your landlord. you werenât sure why you started with the most intimidating person in the building, but desperation has a way of clouding judgment. his door creaked open, revealing the towering man himself, wearing a slightly bemused expression. âuhh âŠgood morning, mr. yaga,â you stammered, clutching mr. pickles tighter for moral support. âiâuhâwanted to askâŠdo you have a cat?â he raised an eyebrow. âa cat?â
âyeah,â you said, awkwardly adjusting your grip on mr. pickles. âbecause, um, sheâs pregnant, and i was wondering ifâwell, you knowâŠâ
yaga blinked at you for a moment, then let out a low chuckle. âno, i donât have a cat. the only thing i house around here is pandas.â
you stared at him, waiting for the punchline that never came. â...pandas?â
âyup. no cats.â
you decided not to press further. âright. okay. thanks, anyway.â you shuffled away, cheeks burning, as he closed the door behind you with a definitive click.
next, you made your way to chosoâs apartment. youâd seen the guy a few times in the hallwayâtall, always dressed like heâd just walked out of a corporate ad, with an aura of quiet exhaustion that screamed salaryman. when he opened the door, he looked down at you with mild surprise, a coffee mug in one hand. âhi,â you greeted, feeling oddly self-conscious under his gaze. âi, uh, have a question. do you happen to own a cat?â
choso blinked, glancing at mr. pickles, who let out a disinterested meow. âno, i donât.â
âare you sure?â you pressed. âbecause my cat is pregnant, andââ
âiâm sure,â he cut in gently, though his tone held the same weariness you felt every monday morning. âi barely have time to take care of my brothers, let alone a pet.â
âbrothers?â
âyeah.â he took a sip of his coffee. âone of themâs a high schooler. the other oneâŠwell, heâs sukuna.â
you froze. âwait. sukuna? as in, the scary guy with the tattoos who glares at everyone when he smokes in the hallway?â
choso nodded. âheâs not so bad once you get to know him.â
you had your doubts but decided not to argue. âright. okay. thanks anyway.â
your next stop was shokoâs apartment. youâd always admired her cool, no-nonsense vibe, but the dark circles under her eyes told you she probably didnât have time for a pet. still, you knocked. when the door opened, shoko stood there, looking like she hadnât slept in three days but somehow still pulled it off effortlessly.
âhey,â you said, trying to sound casual. âdo you have a cat?â
âa cat?â she repeated, leaning against the doorframe. âno. iâm barely home enough to keep my plants alive, let alone a pet.â
you nodded, biting back a sigh. âyeah, that makes sense.â
âwhy?â she asked, eyeing mr. pickles. âis she yours?â
âyeah. sheâs pregnant.â
shoko raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. âcongrats, grandma.â
âdonât remind me,â you groaned. âthanks anyway.â
lastly, you tried suguru getoâs apartment. according to the buildingâs handbook, he was your neighbor on the floor above. but when you knocked, there was no answer. âgreat,â you muttered, glancing down at mr. pickles. âour prime suspect isnât even home. what now?â
mr. pickles responded by squirming in your arms, clearly unimpressed with your sleuthing skills.
defeated, you trudged back to your apartment, where the reality of impending grandmotherhood sank in further. with no leads and no one to pin the blame on, you flopped onto your couch, setting mr. pickles down beside you. she stretched lazily, looking far too pleased with herself.
âthis is your fault, you know,â you muttered, pointing a finger at her. she responded with a purr, curling up into a fluffy ball of indifference.
great. just great. looks like you were in this aloneâagain.
evening rolled in, and with it came mr. picklesâs dinner time. lately, youâd been overly cautious about her diet and moodâthe whole pregnancy thing and allâbut tonight? tonight she was testing your last nerve. there she was, stationed by the door like her life depended on it, yowling dramatically with an almost operatic flair. her tail flicked like a metronome, her cries growing more pitiful by the second. âoh, come on,â you groaned, setting her food bowl down with an exasperated sigh. âwhatâs with you tonight? youâve eaten like, three times already.â
mr. pickles, naturally, ignored you, clawing at the door with all the determination of someone who just had to get out. âfine,â you muttered, stomping toward the door. âbut i swear, if thereâs a stray out there, you can explain yourself, motherfââ
you flung the door open mid-rant and promptly froze.
standing in your doorway was a man. a ridiculously tall, stupidly handsome man with long, silky black hair tied loosely at the nape of his neck and bangs that framed his angular face like heâd just stepped off the cover of handsome landlord quarterly. he wore a plain black sweater, dark trousers, and an expression that was equal parts bemused and apologetic. but your attention snapped to the cat he was holding aloftâan orange tabby with piercingly bright blue eyes that were somehow both smug and indifferent at the same time. âuhâŠhi,â he said, his voice deep and smooth with an edge of uncertainty. âthis yours?â
âthatâsâŠnot my cat,â you managed, pointing awkwardly at the tabby.
âfigured,â he said, glancing past you into your apartment where mr. pickles was now peeking out, her ears perked and tail bristled like an antenna. âheâs mine. nameâs gojo. found him sitting outside my door screaming his lungs out, so i thought maybeâŠâ his words trailed off as his gaze flicked between you, mr. pickles, and gojo. then, realization dawned on his face.
âwait.â he looked at mr. pickles, then back at you. âis your catâŠ?â
âpregnant?â you supplied flatly. âyep. as of about a week ago, thanks for asking.â
getoâbecause of course youâd figured out that this very handsome man was suguru geto from the floor aboveâblinked, visibly processing this information. âhuh,â he said finally, his brow furrowing as he glanced at gojo. âbutâŠgojoâs neutered.â
âwhat?â you blurted, staring at the smug orange tabby who looked anything but neutered. âyeah, had it done ages ago.â geto tilted his head, clearly as baffled as you. âso how the hellâŠ?â you pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache blooming. âyouâre saying thereâs no way it couldâve been him?â
ânot unless he figured out how to reverse a neuter,â geto said dryly, his lips twitching in a bemused smile. you both looked at the cats theâgojo, lounging smugly in getoâs arms, and mr. pickles, glaring daggers from the safety of the couch. âokay,â you muttered, mostly to yourself. âif not gojo, then who? because i donât exactly let her out, and sheâs been acting weird for weeks.â
âwellâŠâ geto began, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. âhe did sneak out a couple of times last month, but i didnât thinkââ
âoh my god,â you groaned, cutting him off. âare you telling me your supposedly neutered cat is actually some kind of feline lothario who managed to knock up my cat on one of his escapades?â
âitâs not like i planned this,â geto defended, though there was a hint of amusement in his tone. you shot him a look, but before you could respond, gojo meowed loudly, almost like he was bragging. âgreat,â you muttered, throwing your hands up. âjust great. now i have to deal with kittens, rent, and figuring out how the hell to co-parent with the guy next door who canât keep his cat under control.â
geto chuckled, his dark eyes twinkling with genuine amusement. âwell, if it helps, iâm pretty good with kids. or kittens, in this case.â you stared at him, incredulous. âthis isnât funny.â
âoh, come on,â he teased, his smirk widening. âitâs a little funny.â you groaned again, retreating into your apartment. âthis is a nightmare.â
âor an adventure,â geto countered, stepping back into the hallway with a casual wave. âlet me know if you need any help. babysitting, moral support, whatever.â and just like that, he was gone, leaving you with a very pregnant mr. pickles, a smug orange tabby, and far too many questions about how youâd managed to land yourself in this ridiculous situation.
-
the realization hit you as soon as you pressed "send." oh no. oh no, no, no.Â
did you really just text suguru getoâyour neighbor, a man who likely had better things to do than deal with your ridiculous antics a demand for child support? for cats? you flopped face-first onto your couch, groaning into a throw pillow. âwhat the hell is wrong with me?â mr. pickles, lounging on the armrest, flicked her tail and let out a smug little chirp, as if sheâd orchestrated the entire debacle. âyouâre no help,â you muttered, rolling onto your back to glare at her.
but it was too late now. the text was sent, sitting in getoâs inbox like an uninvited guest at a party. you imagined him reading it, probably over a cup of coffee in his immaculate apartment upstairs, eyebrows raised in disbelief before muttering something like, what the hell is this?
âwhat was i expecting?â you asked the ceiling. âa courtroom? with gojo cat wearing a tiny tie and confessing his sins?â mr. pickles yawned, completely uninterested in your spiral.
âugh,â you grumbled, standing up. âwhatever. itâs his problem now.â
-
bleary-eyed and still half-asleep, you shuffled to the door the next morning to grab the newspaper. the universe owed you at least one boring morning after last nightâs embarrassment. but as you opened the door, your sleep-deprived brain screeched to a halt. there, sitting on your front porch, was a 5kg bag of premium cat food, the kind youâd seen in the store once and immediately walked past because it cost more than your monthly grocery budget. âwhat theâŠâ you muttered, crouching down to inspect it.
taped to the bag was a folded piece of paper with the words âchild support :)â scrawled in smooth, confident handwriting. beneath the note was what looked suspiciously like a paw print in ink. you squinted, trying to process the absurdity of the situation. âno. absolutely not. did heâdid they actually ink up the cat for this?â you glanced down the hallway, half-expecting geto to pop out from behind a corner and yell âgotcha!â but it was eerily quiet. mr. pickles, who had wandered over to investigate, sniffed the bag and let out an excited meow, her tail curling in approval. âof course youâre happy,â you said, picking up the note and reading it again. âthis is like winning the lottery for you.â
you flipped the paper over, looking for more, but that was it. just âchild support :)â and a smug paw print. âoh my god,â you muttered, dragging a hand down your face. âheâs good. heâs really good.â you set the bag inside and grabbed your phone, your thumbs hovering over the keyboard. what were you even supposed to say to this? thank you? an apology for being unhinged?
before you could overthink it, a new message lit up your screen.
geto: hope this helps. let me know if you need anything else. gojo says hi.
you stared at the message for a long moment, torn between laughter and mortification.
âwhat do i even say to that?â you asked mr. pickles, who was now trying to claw her way into the bag of food. she didnât respond, obviously, but you took her enthusiasm as a sign to type out the least embarrassing reply you could muster.
you: thanks. mr. pickles says hi too. sorry about the text, was half-asleep. really appreciate this though.
a reply came almost instantly.
geto: no problem. wasnât sure how much to get, so i just grabbed the fanciest one. figured she deserves it.
you snorted, shaking your head. âwhat are you, cat royalty?â
mr. pickles let out a pleased chirp, pawing at the bag triumphantly, and you couldnât help but laugh. whatever this situation was, at least mr. pickles was happy. and, okay, maybe suguru geto wasnât completely terrible either.
you thought life couldnât get more ridiculous after the whole âchild supportâ stunt. but somehow, suguru geto managed to raise the bar so high that it was practically doing pull-ups in the stratosphere. because when you stepped out of your apartment to grab some fresh air and regroup after being up all night with a cuddly mr. pickles, you realized geto had turned this entire ordeal into a neighborhood event. âdid he⊠throw a party without telling me?â you muttered to yourself, narrowing your eyes as you spotted a small, hand-decorated sign taped to the landlordâs door. it read: "congrats to the new parents: gojo & mr. pickles!â
ânew parents?â you said aloud, incredulous.
as if summoned by your confusion, chosoâs door creaked open, and yuuji popped his head out, looking entirely too enthusiastic for such an early hour. âhey, neighbor! did you see the banner?â you blinked at him. âbanner?âÂ
yuuji pointed down the hallway. you squinted and, sure enough, there it was â a banner strung across the hallway ceiling that read: "welcome baby kittens!!!" in what looked like glitter glue. âoh my god.â you pressed a hand to your forehead. âhe didnât.â
âhe totally did!â yuuji grinned, stepping fully into the hallway. âhe came by earlier and told me about gojo being a dad. so cool, right? i mean, gojoâs kind of an idiot, but hey, every cat deserves a shot at fatherhood.â
âyuuji,â you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. âheâs not an actual dad. this isnât a sitcom. itâs justâŠbiology.â yuuji shrugged. âbiology, destiny, same thing. oh, by the way, geto dropped off cookies! want one?â you looked down and noticed yuuji holding a plate of cookies shaped like tiny cats.
âwhat theâdid he bake these?â
ânah, i think he bought them,â yuuji said, biting into one. âbut still. pretty neat, huh?â you groaned, muttering, âneat isnât the word iâd use.â
just as you turned to head back into your apartment and escape the madness, there was a loud, insistent scratching at your door. you froze. âdonât tell meâŠâ
yuuji, still chewing on his cookie, pointed. âthatâs probably gojo. heâs been making rounds all morning trying to visit your cat. i think heâs really taking this fatherhood thing seriously.â you stormed to your door and there he wasâgojo cat, gojo the cat, his bright blue eyes wide and hopeful as he pawed at the doorway like a love-struck romeo. âoh, for crying out loud,â you muttered, scooping him up and holding him at armâs length as you entered your house. âwhat do you think youâre doing?â gojo meowed pitifully, his tail flicking as he looked past you toward mr. pickles, who was curled up on her blanket, looking utterly unimpressed. âsheâs not interested, casanova,â you told him, turning to yuuji. âcan you take him back before he climbs my curtains again?â yuuji laughed, taking the cat from you. âno problem. come on, gojo. letâs give her some space.â
as yuuji disappeared down the hall with gojo, you closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a long sigh. but before you could even sit down, your phone buzzed.
geto: hope youâre enjoying the festivities. gojoâs a little excited, but who can blame him? parenthood changes you.
you stared at the message, your eye twitching.
you: i'm one sleepless night away from snapping. please stop turning my life into a hallmark movie.
geto: donât be shy. youâre the real hero here, grandma.
you groaned, tossing your phone onto the couch. mr. pickles, who had been watching the entire ordeal with an air of feline superiority, let out a small, smug purr. âdonât you start,â you told her, flopping onto the couch. âat least itâs a long weekend.â but deep down, you knew there was no such thing as peaceânot when suguru geto and his ridiculous orange menace were involved.
-
suguru geto was not having a good day.
he sighed, leaning back against his couch as the familiar hum of embarrassment settled over him. gojo cat, sprawled across the armrest, gave a half-hearted meow, probably to mock him. heâd woken up to him scratching at his front door like a lunatic, yowling for his morning ritual of inspecting the hallway for signs of mr. pickles. the normally smug and self-satisfied orange menace had been acting weird for daysârestless, meowing at windows, and straight-up bolting every time geto so much as opened the front door. it had taken geto exactly one trip downstairs to realize why.
you. or more specifically, your cat.
geto hadnât even known you had a cat until heâd knocked on your door last week, with mr. pickles in the background like some furry empress. now, not only did he know, but he also had the dubious honor of being the grandfather of mr. picklesâ unborn kittens. âhow did it even come to this?â he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the glittery âwelcome baby kittens!!!â banner heâd put up in the hallway. he knew he was making things worse for himself, but honestly, it was better than sitting in his apartment, spiraling. he sighed, looking down at gojo, who was perched on the armrest of the couch, lazily licking a paw. âyou couldnât just chill, could you?â geto said, narrowing his eyes at the cat. âno, you had to go and ruin my already complicated life. do you know how awkward this is? do you?â
gojo blinked at him, clearly unbothered. âof course you donât,â geto muttered. âyouâre a cat.â
the thing was, geto had genuinely thought heâd be cool about this whole situation. sure, it was a little weird to be co-parenting kittens with the girl heâd had a hallway crush on for months, but it wasnât like he couldnât handle it. except he wasnât handling it. heâd told yuuji. heâd told yaga. heâd even left cookies for shoko. and now half the building knew about gojoâs escapades. âwhat am i doing?â he groaned, leaning back on the couch and covering his face with his hands. âyou know, this is all your fault,â geto muttered, glaring at the cat. gojo, unbothered, blinked lazily.
geto had been a lot of things in his years of lifeâstudent, aspiring lawyer, occasional cat dadâbut one thing he wasnât was smooth when it came to you. you, the girl from another department who lived one floor below him. you, the one who always looked like you belonged in a wes anderson movie, with your half-hidden smiles and humour. you, who somehow managed to make even the most mundane hallway interactions feel like they had a gravitational pull. geto groaned, pressing his palms into his face. he was this close to becoming a tragic clichĂ©.Â
it wasnât like heâd never tried to talk to you before. he had. there was that one time in the campus library, where heâd psych himself up for twenty minutes only for you to leave before he could string a coherent sentence together. or the time in the cafeteria when he thought about offering you a seat at his table but chickened out because he was certain his friends would tease him for weeks. âthis is what rock bottom feels like,â he muttered to himself.
he wasnât even supposed to live in this building. as an international law major with a full schedule and internships on the horizon, he shouldâve been in one of the fancier complexes closer to campus, but fateâor sheer bad luckâhad landed him here. not that he could complain. not when you were his downstairs neighbor. he had always figured you were out of reach, though. you had this aura of being completely in your own worldâpoised, a little reserved, but not in a way that came off as unapproachable. more like you were quietly observing the chaos around you, letting it wash over you like a passing breeze. and heâd been content to admire you from afar. well, mostly content. but now? there was a knock at the door.Â
geto froze.
âplease donât let it be her,â he whispered, praying to whatever higher power might be listening.
it was you. standing in his apartment building, holding a note he wrote about âchild support.â
âhey,â you said, holding up a piece of paper. âyou forgot this.â
âoh,â he said dumbly. âright. thanks.â
you stepped inside, looking around at the various cat-themed decorations geto had somehow acquired in the past 24 hours. âso⊠big fan of cats, huh?â you asked, raising an eyebrow. geto felt his face heat up. âuh, yeah. something like that.â you smirked, crossing your arms. âyou know, you didnât have to go all out like this. itâs not that big of a deal.â
ânot a big deal?â geto repeated, incredulous. âyour cat is having kittens with my cat. thatâs, like⊠monumental.â you rolled your eyes. âtheyâre cats , geto. not royal heirs.â
âstill,â he said, crossing his arms defensively. âiâm just trying to be responsible here.â you looked at him for a long moment, and geto swore he saw the tiniest flicker of amusement in your eyes. âresponsible?â you repeated. âis that why youâve turned our hallway into a petting zoo?â geto opened his mouth to argue but stopped when gojo jumped down from the couch and strutted over to you, rubbing against your legs like the shameless flirt he was. âtraitor,â geto muttered under his breath. you crouched down to pet gojo, a small smile tugging at your lips. âwell, at least someone knows how to make a good impression.âÂ
geto stared at you, his brain short-circuiting. âuh, yeah,â he said finally. âheâs⊠heâs good at that.â you stood up, brushing cat fur off your hands. âanyway, thanks for the food. mr. pickles appreciates it.â
âno problem,â geto said, trying to sound casual. âyou know, if you ever need help with⊠anything, just let me know.â you raised an eyebrow. âlike what? cat parenting classes?â
âsure,â geto said, shrugging. âor, you know, anything else.â you gave him a long, considering look before finally nodding. âiâll keep that in mind,â you said, turning to leave. âthanks, grandpa.â
geto groaned as the door closed behind you. âwhat am i even doing?â he muttered again, looking down at gojo, who had jumped back onto the couch, looking entirely too smug. the cat meowed, as if to say, youâre welcome.
chapter 3: first we stalk, then we brunch
later in the evening, you found yourself huddled under your comforter, laptop balanced precariously on your knees. mr. pickles was curled up at your feet, occasionally flicking her tail, as if silently judging you. you ignored her. tonight, you had a mission: to do a deep dive into the enigma that was suguru geto. you werenât proud of yourself, okay? but curiosity had officially killed the catâor at least put her temporarily out of commission. like any sensible person armed with curiosity and internet access, you turned to linkedin. not instagram, not facebookâlinkedin. because nothing screams âserious investigationâ like stalking someoneâs professional achievements. âletâs see what weâve got, mr. pickles,â you muttered, typing âsuguru getoâ into the search bar on the holy grail of professional snooping. mr. pickles perched regally at the foot of your bed, her gaze judgmental as ever. âdonât give me that look,â you muttered. âiâm doing this for you.â
within seconds, his profile loaded up, and your jaw practically hit the floor.
suguru geto wasnât just good-looking. oh no. he was an overachiever of the highest order. his profile picture was annoyingly perfect: a candid (but totally staged) shot of him sitting at a cafĂ©, holding a cup of coffee in one hand while looking thoughtfully into the distance, as if heâd just solved world hunger. his headline read:
suguru geto | international law student | aspiring global policymaker | passionate about justice and equality
âugh,â you groaned, scrolling further. âpassionate about justice? who is this guy?â his bio didnât help matters. it was filled with phrases like âdedicated to fostering positive global changeâ and âcommitted to bridging the gap between policy and implementation.â
âcommitted to being annoyingly perfect, maybe,â you muttered, side-eyeing mr. pickles. she let out a half-hearted meow that you chose to interpret as agreement. his experience section was even worseâor better, depending on how you looked at it. a summer internship at the UN where he âassisted in drafting resolutions and collaborated with member states on sustainable development initiatives.â worked as a legal intern at some fancy law firm with a french name you couldnât pronounce, where he âfocused on international human rights cases, with a specific emphasis on refugee protection.â not to mention being a volunteer coordinator for a charity in sri lanka, where he âorganized relief efforts and distributed supplies to displaced families during the holiday season.â
âokay, mr. pickles,â you said, glancing at the unimpressed feline. âthis guyâs either a saint or a robot.â what shocked you most wasnât his saintly rĂ©sumĂ©, but the fact that he went to the same university as you. you stared at the screen, stunned. âhow the hell did i not know this?â his âeducationâ section confirmed it:
bachelorâs in international law | current student
active member of the debate team and global policy forum
that explains it, you thought. you were a year younger and in an entirely different departmentâhe probably had his head buried in treaties while you scrambled through your own projects. still, the idea of suguru walking the same hallways as you sent your mind reeling. âwas he in the cafeteria when i spilled coffee on myself that one time?â you wondered aloud. as you continued scrolling, you stumbled upon his posts. his posts swung wildly between annoyingly inspirational and oddly endearing.
the first was a very cheesy, slightly-too-polished âringing in the new yearâ post, complete with a stock photo of fireworks and an unnecessarily long caption: âas we close the chapter on another year, let us remember the power of community and resilience. cheers to 365 days of growth, learning, and striving for a better world!â
âuggghhh, gag me,â you snorted, though you couldnât help but admire how polished it all was.
then there was a post featuring none other than gojo cat sprawled on a cushion, mid-snore. the caption read: âcats are not just petsâthey are companions, teachers, and sometimes, our greatest confidants. thank you, gojo, for reminding me to appreciate the little joys in life.â
âconfidants? really?â you muttered, holding back a laugh. âwhat secrets are you sharing with your cat, suguru?â the piĂšce de rĂ©sistance, however, was a post about his recent trip to sri lanka. it included a photo of him kneeling next to a group of kids, all of them smiling brightly, while he held a giant sack of rice. âspending christmas eve here has been a humbling experience. giving is not just about material wealth but about offering hope and kindness. #holidaygiving #payitforwardâ
âoh, come on,â you groaned. âwho even has time for all of this?â mr. pickles let out an approving meow, her ears twitching at the picture. ânot you too,â you sighed. just as you were about to close the tab, a final post caught your eye. it was from a few months ago: a blurry picture of the university quad, with a caption that read: âsometimes, itâs the quiet moments on campus that remind you why you started this journey. grateful for this space, these people, and this path.â
âquiet moments, huh?â you mused, leaning back against your pillows. âmaybe heâs not all bad.â mr. pickles let out a disapproving chirp, as if to say, focus on the fact that heâs responsible for my current condition, thank you. and just when you thought youâd seen it all, there was his international cat day post. gojo cat lay sprawled in the background, his belly exposed, looking utterly unbothered. geto had written an almost poetic ode to feline companionship. âin a world filled with noise, cats remind us to listen to silence. they are the quiet guardians of our souls.â
you couldnât help but snort. âquiet guardians? mr. pickles, your baby daddy is a poet now.â mr. pickles gave a soft chirp, as if to say, better him than some nobody. âfine,â you relented, closing your laptop. âmaybe heâs not terrible. just⊠annoyingly perfect.â but as you lay back against your pillows, a nagging thought lingered: why had he never said anything? youâd walked the same hallways, shared the same campus, yet heâd never even made a passing hello. was he too busy, or something else? either way, you werenât sure whether to be impressed or annoyed. probably both.
-
suguru geto prided himself on being polished and refined. and he had standards okay? he wasnât some creep skulking around in the shadows. he was a man of composure, logic, and discipline. but all of that went out the window when it came to you. he is also an upstanding citizen who just happened to know your spotify account, which he checked semi-regularly. for research purposes, obviously. it started innocently enoughâgetting your instagram handle. no big deal. he hadnât even followed you right away, worried it might seem weird coming out of nowhere. it was all very calculated: a "friend of a friend of a classmate of a third cousin" pipeline that eventually led him to your public page. a click here, a scroll there, and boomâyour instagram aesthetic was forever seared into his memory. but social media wasnât enough. no, geto was too curious (and maybe just a bit too pathetic) to stop there. this led him to your spotify.
now, he didnât just stumble upon your spotify profile by chance. this particular treasure hunt began at a house party at the start of the year. utahime had made a collaborative playlist for everyone, and while everyone else just added their favorite songs, geto decided to dive deep. deep as in scrolling through over 150 accounts connected to the playlist just to find yours. âthere it is,â he had muttered triumphantly back then, his lips twitching into a satisfied smile. âgotcha.â and from that moment, your spotify profile became his guilty pleasure. your profile picture at the time? a blurry photo of what looked like you holding a glass of wine at some fancy rooftop bar. but the playlists were the real treasure.
your âgym ratâ playlist was his favorite, with high energy tracks, peppered with one or two questionable choices. seriously, why was there a taylor swift song in the middle of your workout playlist? your âin the clerb, we all cryinââ playlist was interesting to say the least, comprising of indie ballads, heart-wrenching acoustics, and, for some reason, a single abba track. then there was âroad trip,â featuring everything from funky throwbacks to an absurd number of songs by chappell roan. âyouâve got taste,â geto muttered to himself, clicking into the playlists one by one. âquestionable taste in some areas, but stillâŠâ he often scrolled through your profile aimlessly, not necessarily looking for anything new, but just existing in your world, even if it was through music. tonight, he found himself back on your page, like some kind of masochistic ritual.
his eyes drifted to his chrome tabs, where your spotify was bookmarked for easy access. it was right there, sandwiched between his email inbox, an online soba delivery menu, an article titled â10 Tips for Acing Your Next Law Internshipâ and a tab about international trade law regulations. âno new playlists,â he murmured, leaning back in his chair. your gym playlist hadnât been updated in six months (âwhat happened to your gym rat era?â), and your grwm playlist was untouched. âslacking, hm?â gojo cat, perched on the edge of the desk, gave him a slow blink. âboring night for you too, huh?â geto sighed dramatically, glancing over at gojo cat sprawled on his lap. the feline barely flicked an ear in response. âdonât look at me like that,â geto said, narrowing his eyes at the feline. âthis is completely normal behavior. iâm not stalking. iâm just⊠maintaining a healthy level of interest.â
âitâs not creepy,â he justified aloud, more to himself than to anyone else. âitâs resourceful. iâm just staying informed.â gojo cat stretched lazily, letting out a yawn that sounded suspiciously judgmental. âoh, donât start,â geto shot back, tapping lightly on the catâs head. âyouâre the reason i even know her in the first place.â getoâs eyes flicked to your âgym rat eraâ playlist again. still untouched. âwhat happened to that, by the way?â he asked no one in particular. âgave up? hit your personal best and retired early?â gojo cat pawed at the corner of his laptop, as if trying to close it.
âhey, no,â geto said, swatting the catâs paw away gently. âiâm in the middle of something important.â his finger hovered over the profile picture youâd updatedâsomething blurry and vaguely artsy. probably taken at a bar or cafĂ©. he debated clicking it but stopped himself. what was he expecting? some secret hidden bio like âhey, stop creepingâ? he sighed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. âiâm not weird, right?â he asked the cat.
gojo, being a cat, offered no answer.
âright,â geto muttered. âthis is perfectly reasonable. iâm just⊠interested. itâs not like iâm walking past her door at 3 a.m. or something.â a fleeting daydream crossed his mindâwhat if the two of you had a shared playlist? something intimate and special, where you both added songs and left little comments. ââthinking of you when i added this,ââ he mused in a mockingly cheesy tone, shaking his head. âgod, what am i, thirteen?â still, the thought lingered, making him smile despite himself. just as he began to close the tab, a notification popped up.
[beef_boss_69 has followed you.]
his entire demeanor shifted. âbeef boss? beef boss?â geto practically spat the name out. âwho the hellâwhat kind of username is that?â he clicked on the profile, his eyes narrowing as he inspected the new follower. it was a faceless account, with no playlists or followers of its own. âoh, great,â he grumbled. âa bot. or worse, some guy who thinks heâs funny.â he glanced at gojo cat, who looked thoroughly unimpressed. âdonât give me that look,â geto said, pointing at the cat. âyouâd be upset too if some guy named beef boss was muscling in on your territory.â gojo cat chirped, which suguru took as a sign of agreement. âexactly,â geto said, nodding to himself. âi mean, whatâs next? chicken king 420? pork prince 88?âÂ
he sat back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. âi should just send the linkedin request,â he muttered to himself. ârip the band-aid off. whatâs the worst that could happen?â gojo cat let out a loud meow, almost as if to say, youâre never going to do it. âshut up,â geto shot back, though there was no heat behind his words. he closed your spotify tab, ignoring the way his stomach twisted at the thought of actually interacting with you. maybe tomorrow, he thought. or next week. or the next time beef boss made a move. as he shut his laptop, he made a mental note: tomorrow, heâd work up the nerve to send you a linkedin request. baby steps, right?
-
you werenât even sure what had pulled you out of bed that morning. was it the ungodly racket outside your door? the growing guilt of not actually reading the paper you insisted on having delivered? or maybe just the suspiciously human-sounding yowls of mr. pickles as she nested in the corner of your room? either way, youâd dragged yourself out of bed, eyes half-closed, hair resembling a birdâs nest, and shuffled toward the door in your favoriteâread: most embarrassingâpajamas. and there he was.
suguru geto, standing in front of your door in the crisp morning light, wearing an athletic jacket, sweatpants, and the expression of a man who was absolutely not ready for this level of chaos. attached to his hand was a leash, and attached to the leash was none other than gojo cat himself, strutting like he was the king of the neighborhood. âmorning,â geto greeted, his tone breezy but his face clearly betraying some inner turmoil. you blinked at him. âis that⊠is that a harness?â
âyep.â geto scratched the back of his neck. âgojo here insisted.â as if on cue, gojo cat let out an overly dramatic meow, his bright blue eyes locking onto yours. he looked like a lion surveying his kingdom =âor, more accurately, a spoiled housecat demanding tribute. âyouâre taking your cat for a walk?â you asked, still half-asleep and very much regretting this encounter. âyeah, heâs been getting a little⊠restless,â geto said, glancing down at the fluffball who was now trying to paw at your door. âand by restless, i mean clawing the walls like a maniac at 3 a.m.â gojo cat let out another meow, this one louder, and then craned his neck to peer behind you, as if expecting mr. pickles to emerge in all her pregnant glory. âokay, whatâs he doing?â you asked, narrowing your eyes at the cat. âprobably hoping to see his baby mama,â geto replied with a dry chuckle. you stared at him, your brain still buffering from the sheer audacity of that sentence. âbaby mama?â
âlook,â geto started, suddenly looking flustered, âi was wondering if you⊠i mean, if she ⊠maybe we could ââ
âspit it out.â
âdo you wanna join us for a walk?â he blurted, his cheeks faintly pink.
gojo cat meowed again, clearly seconding the idea. or maybe he was just demanding that you bring mr. pickles along. you sighed, glancing over your shoulder at the aforementioned queen of your household, who was currently sprawled on her side like a beached whale. âsheâs not exactly in the mood for exercise.â âplease,â geto said, his tone bordering on desperate. âit might do her some good. and honestly, it might keep gojo from trying to scale your window again.â you pinched the bridge of your nose. âfine. but you owe me breakfast for this.â
âdeal,â geto said immediately, his relief almost palpable.
after an embarrassingly long five minutes of wrangling mr. pickles into her carrierâcomplete with angry hisses and a swat to your handâyou emerged from your apartment, looking like you were about to march into battle. âready?â geto asked, his smile equal parts charming and sheepish. âletâs just get this over with,â you grumbled, hoisting the carrier while mr. pickles glared daggers at everyone in sight. as the four of you set off, gojo cat kept glancing back at the carrier, chirping softly as if trying to woo mr. pickles through sheer persistence. âheâs really laying it on thick, huh?â you said, raising an eyebrow. âlike father, like son,â geto joked, then immediately looked mortified at his own words. you snorted, finally cracking a smile. âcareful, geto. i might actually start thinking youâre funny.â he grinned, his confidence seemingly restored. âwell, miracles do happen.â
mr. pickles, meanwhile, let out a low growl from her carrier, clearly unimpressed with the whole ordeal. gojo cat chirped in response, pressing his face to the mesh side of the carrier in what could only be described as a show of devotion. âis he always like this?â you asked, watching the ridiculous display. âonly when heâs in love,â geto replied, shooting you a look that lingered just a second too long. you pretended not to notice the way your heart skipped a beat. âwell, he better not get his hopes up. mr. pickles isnât exactly the romantic type.â geto chuckled. âguess heâll just have to win her over.â as the morning sun climbed higher, you couldnât help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this whole ridiculous situation wasnât so bad after all.
geto meanwhile, was mentally spiraling. he didnât know what was worseâthe âlike father, like sonâ line heâd just dropped on you or the fact that you didnât immediately burst out laughing and leave him and his ridiculous orange tabby in the dust. instead, you stayed, which only made things harder for him. literally. his heart was pounding so loudly he was sure even mr. pickles could hear it from inside her carrier. he was trying to play it cool, but how was he supposed to do that when his so-called son was busy embarrassing the hell out of him? gojo cat was living his best life, pulling on his leash like a dog on a mission. his blue eyes sparkled with excitement as he trotted beside mr. pickles' carrier, occasionally pawing at the mesh as if trying to âconnectâ with his beloved. mr. pickles, for her part, was clearly over it. she sat in the carrier like a disgruntled queen, her ears flat and her glare sharp enough to cut diamonds.
âyour catâs persistent,â you said, watching as gojo cat did a full circle around the carrier before flopping dramatically on the sidewalk, belly up, in what looked like a plea for attention. âheâs⊠special,â geto replied, attempting to reel in the leash as gojo cat kicked his legs in the air, rolling onto his side to stare mournfully at mr. pickles. âgojo, stop being weird.â gojo cat let out a pitiful meow, his paws pressing against the carrier like he was performing some romeo and juliet reenactment. âis this normal?â you asked, raising an eyebrow as you crouched to take a closer look. âdefine normal,â geto deadpanned, tugging the leash again as gojo cat started to nudge his face against the carrier. âheâs just... enthusiastic. about life. and apparently, love.â
âmr. pickles looks like sheâs about to murder him.â
mr. pickles, indeed, was having none of it. when gojo cat got too close, she raised a paw and batted at the mesh with a low growl, making geto jump. âokay, timeout,â geto said, scooping gojo cat up with one arm while holding the leash in the other. gojo cat squirmed, letting out a series of indignant chirps as if protesting his removal from the âlove of his life.â âyouâre really committed to this cat dad role, huh?â you teased, standing back up. âitâs not a role,â geto replied, attempting to adjust gojo cat in his arms as the feline twisted dramatically, his tail flicking with determination. âitâs a lifestyle.â you snorted, and geto decided right then and there that he would endure any amount of humiliation for the sound of your laughter.
meanwhile, gojo cat had decided heâd had enough of the timeout. with a sudden burst of energy, he wriggled free from getoâs grip and made a beeline back to mr. picklesâ carrier. he pawed at it again, letting out a chirp that sounded suspiciously like, notice me, senpai. âjesus christ, gojo,â geto muttered, scrambling to grab the leash. âcan you give her some space for five seconds?â
âheâs determined,â you said, your lips twitching as you watched the scene unfold. âiâll give him that.â
âdetermined to get us kicked out of the building, maybe,â geto grumbled, finally managing to wrangle gojo cat back.
mr. pickles, now thoroughly fed up, turned her back to the carrier door, her tail swishing in annoyance. she let out a loud, irritated meow, as if to say, enough of this nonsense. âlooks like the queen has spoken,â you said, nodding toward mr. pickles. âyeah, well, tell that to this guy,â geto replied, holding gojo cat up like a misbehaving toddler. âi swear, heâs got no chill.â
âtakes after his dad, huh?â you said with a sly grin.
geto froze, his cheeks heating up. âiâuhâheâs not my biologicalâuhâŠâ
you laughed again, shaking your head.Â
ârelax, geto. iâm just messing with you.â but before geto could recover and try to salvage what was left of his dignity, gojo cat let out another loud meow, squirming in his grip. âgreat,â geto muttered. âand now iâm the guy whose cat ruins his chance to make a good impression.â
âwho said it was ruined?â you said casually, your gaze meeting his for a brief, heart-stopping moment. and just like that, geto decided that maybeâjust maybeâgojo cat wasnât the worst wingman in the world after all.
honestly, when you first saw geto on linkedin yesterdayâhighlighted internships, connections with every fancy-sounding legal firm, and posts that made him look like a diplomatic demigodâyou thought, oh, great. another rich boy who probably orders his coffee by listing ten modifications and has never eaten instant noodles in his life. add gojo cat into the mix, and you were sure this guy was going to be the embodiment of an annoying private school kid, complete with a pet who demanded bottled water and artisanal treats. but this? this was unexpected. geto was, dare you say it, fun. the man actually cracked jokes, didnât have that holier-than-thou attitude, and seemed genuinely nice. how was he even an international law major? werenât they supposed to be the glorified MUN kids of society?
âso, what do you think of him?â geto asked, glancing down at gojo cat, who was currently doing his best impression of an olympic sprinter, chasing a rogue leaf across the path. âhim?â you asked, smirking. âi think heâs a menace to society.â
âhey, thatâs my son youâre talking about,â geto said, mock-offended. âlike father, like son,â you shot back, and you caught the faintest twitch of his lips. âyou wound me,â geto replied dramatically, clutching his chest like youâd just dealt a fatal blow. you laughed despite yourself. âi mean, am i wrong? youâre kind of a menace too, you know. showing up with that âlike father, like sonâ line earlier.â
âthat line was gold, okay?â he said, defensive but clearly holding back a grin. âbesides, it worked. youâre still here, arenât you?â you rolled your eyes but couldnât help smiling. âyou got lucky. i needed some fresh air.â
âah, so iâm just a side quest for your morning routine. noted,â he said, looking mock-wounded again. âdonât make me regret this,â you said, though your tone was light. but then, of course, you had to spiral. because what kind of person just casually smells like bamboo? why were you even thinking about how he smelled in the first place? no, focus. you were not about to develop a crush on mr. linkedin extraordinaire.
âso, um,â geto started, scratching the back of his neck. you noticed he did that a lot when he was unsure of himself, which was oddly endearing. âdid you, uh, happen to notice we go to the same university?â
âoh, i noticed,â you said, raising an eyebrow. âwhat i didnât notice was how i never saw you around campus before.â
âi keep a low profile,â he said quickly, a little too quickly.Â
âlow profile? you? with your fifteen linkedin posts about networking events and charity galas?â you teased. he flushed, and you bit back a laugh at the sight of the ever-composed suguru geto getting flustered. âthatâs professional stuff,â he said, looking anywhere but at you. âdifferent vibe.â
âsure, mr. diplomat,â you said, grinning. âbut seriously, why havenât we crossed paths before?â
âwell, youâre a year younger,â he mumbled, âand in a different department. plus⊠i mightâveâŠâ
âmightâve what?â you pressed, leaning in just slightly.
âmightâve avoided you,â he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. âavoided me?â you repeated, blinking. âwhy?â
his face turned a shade darker. âbecause i didnât know how to talk to you, okay?â you stared at him, caught off guard by his sudden honesty. for a moment, neither of you spoke, the sound of gojo cat rustling through the bushes filling the silence. âwell,â you said finally, breaking the tension with a small smile, âyouâre doing fine now.â he looked at you, his expression softening. âyeah, maybe.â
and just like that, the flustered energy transferred to you, because how was this guy suddenly so disarming? you quickly turned your attention to gojo cat, who had now returned, proudly carrying a twig in his mouth like it was some grand prize. âyour catâs weird,â you said, hoping the heat in your cheeks wasnât too obvious. âtakes after his owner,â geto quipped, a little more confidently this time. you snorted, shaking your head. âyeah, well, youâre lucky i donât scare easy.â
âlucky, huh?â he said, his lips curving into a small, genuine smile.
you groaned inwardly. maybe you were spiraling. if mr. pickles could talk, youâd be subjected to a very long, exasperated lecture right now. and honestly? sheâd have a point. because here you were, fumbling in front of what could only be described as a god-sent manâminus his questionable taste in cheesy pickup lines and feline companions. and judging by the way she was scratching insistently against the carrierâs mesh, mr. pickles had had enough. âalright, alright,â you muttered, unzipping the carrier. âbut behave, okay? no swatting.â
the minute she stepped out, in all her pregnant, regal glory, gojo cat lost his mind. if there were an olympic event for wooing, heâd be taking home gold, no contest. he was meowing nonstop, his tail flicking like crazy, hopping in excited circles around mr. pickles. âgood god,â geto muttered beside you, watching his catâs antics with a mixture of horror and amusement. âheâs⊠persistent, isnât he?â
âpersistent? your catâs acting like he just won the lottery,â you said, watching gojo cat crouch low and wiggle his butt like he was about to pounce. âmr. pickles deserves the best,â geto said with a smirk, his tone dripping with mock sincerity. âshe deserves peace and quiet,â you shot back, laughing as mr. pickles calmly let gojo cat have his little moment of excitement before promptly swatting him on the nose.
gojo cat froze, blinking in shock. then, as if nothing happened, he tried again. another swat.
âhe doesnât give up, does he?â you said, shaking your head. âlike father, like son,â geto said with a shrug, and you snorted.
âoh, so youâre like that too, huh?â you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. he froze for a second, his brain clearly buffering. then he laughed, scratching the back of his neck. âi like to think i have a bit more self-control.â
âhmm,â you said, pretending to consider. âdebatable.â
âharsh,â geto said, placing a hand over his heart like heâd been wounded. things werenât any better for geto. watching you laugh at his lame attempts at humor was doing something dangerous to his brain. you were so close, and the way your eyes lit up when you laughedâŠ
he couldnât help it. he felt the same urge gojo cat mustâve feltâlike physically shaking, meowing, jumping, doing whatever it took to make sure you were looking at him. but he was a man with poise (he reminded himself), so instead of resorting to anything outrageous, he blushed furiously, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. âyou okay there?â you asked, noticing his face had turned an alarming shade of red. âyeah, yeah,â he said quickly, waving you off. âitâs, uh⊠warm out here.â you glanced up at the sky. it was barely sunny with a light breeze. âsure,â you said, smirking. âtotally the weather.â
âdonât call me out like that,â he mumbled, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck again. âyouâre cute when youâre flustered,â you said before you could stop yourself, and the words hung in the air for a second too long. his head snapped toward you, eyes wide. âwhat?â
âi â nothing ,â you said quickly, suddenly very interested in the stray thread on your sweater. âno, no, go on,â geto said, leaning in slightly, his voice teasing now. âwhat were you saying?â
âi said nothing,â you insisted, but your face was practically on fire. he grinned, leaning back and crossing his arms. âmm-hmm. sure.â
you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. âmr. pickles, save me,â you muttered, but she was too busy fending off gojo catâs latest round of attention to care. and next to you, geto was grinning like an idiot, his blush finally starting to fade as he realized he might not be the only one spiraling.
amidst the awkward giggles and blushes, your stomach decided it had enough of the coy flirting and declared war. a low, awkward rumble escaped, loud enough for both you and geto to freeze. âwas thatâŠ?â geto began, his lips twitching.
âno,â you lied immediately, your face heating up. âthat was probablyâŠgojo.â as if on cue, gojo cat meowed loudly, almost like he was backing you up. but mr. pickles wasnât having it, her head snapping toward you with a âyouâre kidding, right?â look. geto, bless his golden heart, didnât press further. instead, he scooped up a very indignant gojo, who was in the middle of another extravagant attempt to woo mr. pickles.Â
âsounds like breakfast is overdue,â he said, grinning. âmy treat, as promised.â you hesitated, watching as mr. pickles, the opportunist she was, pranced toward her carrier with the regal air of a queen boarding her royal carriage. she gave you a look that screamed, what are you waiting for? letâs go, servant.
âuh,â you started, scratching the back of your neck. âso, funny story â i didnât bring my wallet, and even if i didâŠâ you trailed off, remembering the bleak state of your cashapp. $27.53 stared back at you the last time you checked. it was a miracle you even had that much. â...i wouldnât be able to afford it.â geto blinked at you, as if youâd grown a second head. âwhat?â
âyeah,â you said, already feeling the mortifying urge to dig a hole and crawl into it. âiâm, uh, broke. like, hilariously broke. economy, yâknow?â you added with a weak laugh. âyou think iâm letting you pay?â geto said, looking genuinely offended. âwhat kind of guy do you think i am?â
âa nice guy?â you offered, unsure where this was going. âno, no,â he said, shaking his head. âa gentleman.â
oh god, the drama. you stifled a laugh. âwell, excuse me, mister gentleman. i just didnât want to assume youâd pay.â
âassume away,â he said, already heading toward the nearest fancy breakfast cafĂ© like he hadnât just kidnapped you and the cats. âiâve got you covered.â you glanced down at mr. pickles, who gave you a look that screamed, hurry up, i want my eggs.
the cafĂ©, of course, was fancy. fancier than anywhere youâd normally set foot in. as you walked in, clutching mr. picklesâ carrier like a lifeline, you whispered to geto, âyou couldnât pick a normal place?â
ânormal?â he asked, arching a brow. âwhat, like mcdonaldâs?â
âthat wouldâve been perfect, â you muttered. he just chuckled. ârelax. itâs on me. besidesâŠâ he leaned in slightly, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. âi have a reputation to uphold. international law guys donât slum it, you know?â you snorted. âyouâre so full of it.â
âmaybe,â he admitted, grinning. âbut youâre here, arenât you?â you rolled your eyes but couldnât help smiling as you followed him to a table, where gojo cat immediately tried to climb onto the nearest chair, only for geto to gently push him back down. âdonât even think about it,â he told the cat, who meowed indignantly. mr. pickles, meanwhile, sat primly in her carrier, surveying the cafĂ© with a look of mild disdain. she was probably judging the lack of gold-plated bowls. âso,â geto said once you were seated, his tone casual but his eyes warm. âwhat are you having? and donât say something cheap to be polite.â
âhowâd you know i was going to say that?â you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. he shrugged. âjust a hunch. order whatever you want.â
you hesitated, glancing at the menu. everything was overpriced, and you were 80% sure a single pancake here cost more than your rent. âfine,â you said finally. âbut if i order the most expensive thing on the menu, i donât want to hear you complain.â
âdeal,â he said, smiling like youâd just agreed to marry him. god, he really was trying to woo you. and judging by the way your heart was doing somersaults, it mightâve been working.
the cafe was everything you imagined a âfancy breakfast spotâ would beâmuted beige tones, big windows letting in soft sunlight, overpriced art hanging on the walls, and tables filled with people who somehow looked like they owned hedge funds. there were plants too, the kind that didnât seem real, and a faint jazz tune played in the background. if geto was trying to impress you, he was definitely succeeding, albeit unintentionally making you feel a little out of place. but all of that took a backseat the moment you heard that voice.
âyouâre joking,â you muttered under your breath as you caught sight of none other than ryomen sukuna, towering like a goddamn villain straight out of a noir film. the cigarette smell hit first, faint but unmistakable, lingering on his dark uniform. his face twisted into a scowl the second he spotted your table. âugh, pets,â he grumbled, eyeing the carrier with disdain. âthis is why this place is going downhill. who even lets cats in here?â
âgood morning to you too, sukuna,â geto said smoothly, leaning back in his chair with a calmness that only pissed sukuna off further. you, on the other hand, were seconds away from panic. this is chosoâs brother? youâd seen him before, sureâusually smoking in the hallway and glaring like everyone had personally wronged him. but now? here? as your server? gojo cat immediately picked up on your distressâor maybe he just didnât like sukunaâs faceâbecause he started growling in getoâs lap. it was the tiniest, most pitiful growl, but sukunaâs eyes snapped to him, narrowing in challenge. âwhatâs that thingâs problem?â he asked, jerking a thumb at gojo cat. âhis problem is you , â geto said, smiling. âcanât say i blame him.â sukuna shot geto a flat look before turning his attention back to you. âwhat are you having?â he asked, his tone sharp enough to cut steel.
you panicked, your eyes darting to the menu. âuh⊠ummm âŠiâll have the, uhâŠâ you started, struggling to pronounce the ridiculous name of the dish. âthe croissantâŠsomething?â
âyou mean the croissant aux truffes?â sukuna interrupted, rolling his eyes. âyeah, got it. anything else?â you shook your head furiously, feeling your face heat up. âand you?â sukuna turned to geto, clearly already over this interaction. âmy usual,â geto said casually, resting his chin on his hand. sukuna raised a brow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a mean smirk. âyour usual , huh? whatâs that again?â
geto froze for half a second, his cool demeanor slipping ever so slightly. âyou know what my usual is,â he said, his voice a little sharper. âdo i?â sukuna asked, feigning innocence. âmustâve slipped my mind.â
âitâs soba,â geto hissed, his calmness now completely abandoned.
âoh, soba,â sukuna said, nodding slowly like heâd just solved the mystery of the century. âgot it. soba. anything else, your highness?â geto glared at him but didnât say anything, and sukuna walked off, muttering something under his breath about âstupid regulars.â the moment he was out of earshot, geto leaned back in his chair and let out a dramatic sigh. âiâm never coming back here.â
âreally?â you asked, raising a brow. âbecause it sounded like you practically live here.â
ânot after this humiliation,â he said, though the way his lips twitched betrayed the fact that he wasnât as annoyed as he pretended to be. you couldnât help but laugh, the earlier tension melting away. âfor what itâs worth,â you said, âyour âusualâ sounds pretty fancy too.â
âdonât,â he groaned, burying his face in his hands. âiâll never live this down.â
from the corner of your eye, you saw gojo cat attempting to claw his way out of geto's lap, probably planning to finish what he started with sukuna. mr. pickles, ever the drama queen, merely yawned, completely unfazed by the chaos. it was going to be a long morning.
sukunaâs approach to serving was efficient, sure, but it was laced with the kind of attitude that made you question why this place hired him in the first place. he practically slammed getoâs soba on the table with a smile so forced it could rival a ventriloquist dummy, and your croissantâalthough perfectâarrived with a snide comment about âpetting zoosâ under his breath. you gave him a tight-lipped smile, muttering a quick âthank you,â while geto tried to hide his snicker behind his hand. sukuna walked off, grumbling something about âpretentious cat dads.â
âdonât mind him,â geto said, breaking his chopsticks with practiced ease. âheâs just like that with everyone. well, maybe worse with me.â
âso youâre special, then?â you teased, tearing off a piece of your croissant. âyou could say that,â geto replied with a grin, feeding gojo cat a tiny bit of soba under the table. gojo, the shameless flirt, lapped it up happily, ignoring mr. picklesâ death glare from her carrier. things were calm, peaceful evenâuntil the gaggle of women arrived.
they were the type youâd expect to see in glossy magazines: perfectly coiffed hair, subtle but expensive-looking makeup, and outfits that screamed âwe brunch in designer clothes.â they made a beeline for gojo cat, cooing and fawning like he was some sort of feline casanova. and, like the attention-seeking traitor he was, gojo lapped it all up, practically preening under their praise. âoh my god, look at him!â one of them squealed, petting gojo as he leaned into her touch. âheâs so cute!â
âwhatâs his name?â another asked, giving geto a smile that could only be described as predatory. âgojo,â geto said, chuckling awkwardly. âyou named him after yourself?â one of the women teased, clearly mistaking him for the egomaniac in question.
âuh, no, actuallyââ
âoh, sugurruuu!â another one interrupted, clearly recognizing him. âitâs been ages! how have you been?â you raised an eyebrow as the women began circling him like sharks. apparently, they were his seniors from a past internship, which made sense because they had that polished, professional air about them. âwe missed you at the office!â one of them gushed. âyou were so good at handling those client presentations,â another added, her tone a little too sweet for your liking.
you took a bite of your croissant, trying to ignore the sudden twist in your stomach. it wasnât like you had any claim over geto, right? and yet, seeing him chuckle nervously and entertain them, even though it was clear he was uncomfortable, made you bristle. beside you, mr. pickles was practically vibrating with irritation, her tail flicking furiously as she watched gojo soak up the attention. she let out a low, guttural growl that you couldâve sworn mirrored your exact mood. âheâs such a ladiesâ man,â one of the women purred, gesturing to gojo. âjust like his owner, huh?â
âactually,â geto said, his voice cutting through the chatter. he looked at you, his expression unreadable but his tone steady. âthis is my partner.â
wait, what?
the table went silent for a moment as all eyes turned to you. the womenâs faces fell ever so slightly, their previously cheery expressions dimming as they processed the information. âpartner?â one of them repeated, her voice tinged with disbelief. âyep,â geto said, leaning back in his chair with a small, satisfied smile. âweâre co-parenting these two,â he added, gesturing to the cats. you blinked, your mind racing. co-parenting? he wasnât wrong, technically speaking, but the way he said it made it sound...a lot more serious than it actually was. the women muttered half-hearted congratulations before awkwardly excusing themselves, their heels clicking against the tiled floor as they walked away. once they were out of earshot, you turned to geto, your cheeks burning. âpartner, huh?â
âwhat? itâs true,â he said, a hint of smugness in his tone. âweâre co-parenting.â
âyou do know how that sounded, right?â you asked, narrowing your eyes.âsounded perfect to me,â he said, giving you a lopsided grin. you rolled your eyes, but you couldnât help the small smile tugging at your lips. maybe, just maybe, you liked geto a little more than you thought. meanwhile, gojo cat continued basking in his stolen glory, and mr. pickles finally settled down in her carrier, clearly satisfied with how the situation had turned out.
chapter 4: he brought kibble, you brought your heart
the days following your chaotic breakfast outing became a mix of heartwarming absurdity and mild chaos, all thanks to geto and his ever-determined cat.Â
it started with the pet supplies. one offhand comment about needing more for mr. pickles, and suddenly geto was at your door with an entire armful of toys, treats, and nesting materials. âyou said you needed stuff,â he shrugged, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he handed you a bag that looked heavy enough to contain bricks. âthis isâŠa lot,â you said, peering inside. âdid you buy out the entire pet store?â
ânah, just the essentials,â he replied, brushing off your comment. âbesides, i had to get stuff for gojo anyway.â
the âstuff for gojoâ turned out to be a single can of tuna.
then came the vet visits. geto had decided, entirely unprompted, that your vet appointments were now his responsibility. he would show up unannounced, a coffee in hand for you and a carrier for gojo in the other. âi donât think the vet needs to see gojo,â youâd said the first time he came along. âyou never know,â heâd replied, entirely serious. âwhat if he has sympathy symptoms for mr. pickles? heâs been sneezing a lot lately.â
âthatâs because he shoved his face into a pile of dust bunnies,â you deadpanned. still, you couldnât deny how much easier it was having him around, even if it meant enduring his occasional attempts to one-up the vet with random facts heâd googled beforehand. âyou know, some studies say cats feel pain differently during pregnancy,â geto commented as the vet checked mr. pickles over. the vet gave him a flat look. âthatâsâŠnot entirely accurate.â
âhuh, weird,â geto said, leaning back with an entirely too smug grin. âiâll look into it more. itâs good to stay informed, right?â
meanwhile, gojo catâs relentless courtship of mr. pickles had reached new, unhinged heights. every day brought a new âgiftâ for her nesting area, ranging from sweet (a soft sock) to outright concerning (a half-dead lizard that had you shrieking and yuuji wielding a plastic lightsaber like some kind of jedi exterminator). âgojo, no!â youâd yelled, trying to wrestle the lizard out of his mouth. âdonât hurt him!â geto shouted, entirely missing the point as he held gojo back. âdonât hurt him?!â yuuji echoed, brandishing the lightsaber dramatically. âwhat about me? what if it jumps at me?!â
amidst the chaos, mr. pickles remained the picture of serenity, carefully arranging each of gojoâs offerings in her nesting area like some kind of bizarre art installation. she even started tolerating his presence, which was a minor miracle in itself. âlook at them,â geto said one day, gesturing to the two cats as they napped side by side. âtheyâre like us.â you raised an eyebrow. âone of them brings in literal trash and the other barely tolerates them. which oneâs supposed to be me?â
âwell, obviously, youâre mr. pickles,â he said with a grin.
âand youâre gojo?â
âexactly.â
you laughed, shaking your head. âgeto, youâre ridiculous.â
âand yet, here you are,â he teased, nudging your shoulder lightly.
despite the chaos, you couldnât deny that your little makeshift familyâcomplete with a sock-stealing, lizard-catching cat and his annoyingly thoughtful ownerâhad started to grow on you. mr. pickles seemed calmer, you felt more relaxed, and even getoâs awkward attempts at affection were kind of endearing. maybe, just maybe, these two werenât so bad after all.
but honestly, you shouldâve known geto would take a casual dinner and make it look like an event. the moment you opened the door and saw him standing there, you realized just how badly you underestimated the manâs ability to weaponize his looks. heâd ditched the usual button-ups for a fitted black turtleneck that clung to him like a second skin, paired with tailored gray slacks that looked more expensive than your monthly rent. his hair was tied back in a sleek ponytail, but a few stray strands framed his face just enough to be annoyingly perfect. and then there was the smellâsome cologne that was equal parts warm and spicy, making your knees wobble like a newborn deer.
âyouâŠuh, look nice,â you managed to stutter, awkwardly gesturing him in. he chuckled, stepping inside. âthanks. figured i should dress up a little since youâre going all out with dinner.â oh, so now itâs your fault for making dinner sound like a five-star experience when it was really just some pasta and garlic bread. meanwhile, your own reflection in the hallway mirror mocked you mercilessly. you were still in your semi-formal college attire: a blazer that was slightly too big, a wrinkled blouse, and pants that had seen better days. you could have changed, but no, you thought youâd save time and effort. bad call.
dinner itself went surprisingly smoothly. mr. pickles and gojo cat managed to coexist at the food station, which was nothing short of miraculous. out of the corner of your eye, you saw gojo nudging a small portion of his food toward mr. pickles, who sniffed it delicately before accepting. âlook at them,â geto said with a soft smile, catching your gaze. âsharing like that. think itâs love?â you scoffed, trying to ignore how his smile made your heart race. âor maybe gojoâs just trying to butter her up so she doesnât swat him later.â
âharsh,â geto replied, leaning back in his chair. âyouâre cynical. i like it.â
after dinner, you were about to tackle the dishes when geto, ever the overachieving law student, pulled out his macbook. the glow of the screen illuminated his face as he typed furiously, answering emails and looking like the poster boy for "i have my life together."
âwork?â you asked, carrying a stack of plates to the sink. âjust a few emails,â he said, not looking up. âone of the partners at my internship sent over some last-minute questions.â you blinked, watching him with mild disbelief. âitâs a friday night.â
âwelcome to international law,â he said dryly, fingers flying across the keyboard. against your better judgment, you found yourself⊠impressed? his focus, his confidence, the way his sleeves were rolled up just enough to show off his forearmsâit was annoyingly attractive. âugh, law students,â you muttered under your breath, scrubbing at a plate. âwhat was that?â suguru asked, looking up with a smirk. ânothing,â you said quickly, turning back to the sink. âjust saying how dedicated you are.â he laughed, the sound low and warm. âyouâre bad at lying, you know.â
âand youâre bad at taking a break,â you shot back, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks.
after a few more minutes of typing, geto finally closed his laptop and joined you in the kitchen. âhere, let me help,â he offered, rolling up his sleeves further. âyou cooked,â he said, taking a plate from your hands. âleast i can do is clean up.â you wanted to argue, but the sight of geto, sleeves rolled up, standing beside you at the sink, made your brain short-circuit. âfine,â you mumbled, handing him a dish. âbut if you drop one, iâm not forgiving you.â
ânoted,â he said with a grin, elbow brushing yours as he worked. as you both washed dishes in companionable silence, you couldnât help but glance at him every now and then, heart doing a stupid little flutter each time he caught you looking. maybe this dinner wasnât such a bad idea after all.
geto had never been one to overthink simple things. he prided himself on his ability to stay cool and collected, whether it was during an exam, an internship interview, or wrangling gojo cat after heâd somehow escaped onto a neighborâs balcony. but here, standing next to you, washing dishes, his heart was doing its best impression of a jazz drummerâcompletely out of rhythm and far too loud. he tried to focus on the task at hand, scrubbing a plate with the precision of a surgeon, but his brain was too busy short-circuiting over the sheer domesticity of the moment. you, standing next to him, a faint smile on your lips as you passed him a dish. mr. pickles and gojo cat sitting like a mismatched elderly couple in the corner, their rivalry seemingly paused for the evening. this was too much. domesticity was his weakness, and you were unknowingly his kryptonite.
"you know," he started, trying to sound casual, "iâve been working on my forearms lately. gotta make sure gojo has a sturdy perch when i carry him." your laugh was soft but genuine, and it hit him right in the chest. "oh yeah? is that why youâve been flexing every chance you get? because i was starting to think you were just trying to flirt." he froze, plate in hand, before turning to look at you with a mock-offended expression. "flirt? me? thatâs slander. iâm just a humble man with well-defined forearms doing his civic duty.â
"right," you drawled, rolling your eyes as you handed him another dish. okay, suguru, he thought. focus. this is the perfect moment. ask the question. itâs not that big of a deal. except it was a big deal. because it wasnât just about asking if youâd like to carpool to college every day. it was about getting more time with you, sharing little moments like this. he cleared his throat, trying to find the right words. "hey, uhâŠyou know how i drive to college every day?" you glanced at him, a little confused. "yeah?"
"and you, uh, also go to college every day?"
"correct," you said slowly, raising an eyebrow.
he could feel his palms starting to sweat despite the soapy water. this was ridiculous. why was he nervous? it was just a question! but somehow, the thought of you saying no made his stomach twist. "so," he continued, trying to keep his tone light, "i was thinkingâŠmaybe we could drive together? you know, save on gas, reduce our carbon footprint, that kind of thing." you blinked at him, clearly caught off guard. "you want to carpool with me?"
"yeah," he said quickly, nodding. "i mean, it makes sense, right? weâre both going the same way, and i wouldnât mind the company. plus, iâve got this playlist iâve been dying to share." that wasnât entirely true. his playlist was a chaotic mix of instrumental lo-fi, 90âs rock and songs gojo cat seemed to enjoy, but heâd happily curate something just for you if it meant hearing you laugh and sing along.Â
"youâre serious?" you asked, and he swore he could see a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. "dead serious," he said, putting on his best poker face. "itâs a purely logistical decision, of course. nothing to do with the fact that i think youâre great company or anything." you stared at him for a moment before breaking into a laugh, and he felt his shoulders relax just a little. "okay," you said finally. "sure, letâs carpool." he grinned, feeling an almost embarrassing amount of relief. "awesome. you wonât regret it, i promise." as you turned back to the sink, he couldnât help but steal a glance at you, his heart still doing its offbeat jazz solo. yeah, this was going to be good. better than good, even.
the last dish was set on the drying rack, and with it came the awkward silence that always followed. you and geto exchanged a glance, both of you clearly trying to decide what came next. do you send him off with a polite "thanks for the help," or do you suggest something casual? ugh, why was this so hard?
"soooo," you started, awkwardly fidgeting with a dishtowel. "uh, do youâŠwant ice cream?" geto blinked at you, his expression pleasantly surprised. "ice cream?"
"yeah, you know, frozen dairy, sugar, flavors," you said, waving your hands vaguely like you were describing some rare delicacy. "do international law students even like convenience store ice cream? or are you more into, like, artisanal stuff churned by monks in the alps?" his laugh was low and warm, the kind of laugh that made you feel like youâd just won something. "as tempting as alps-monks-churned ice cream sounds, iâm fine with rocky road if youâve got it."
rocky road. heâs perfect, you thought as you rummaged in the freezer, pulling out a pint. mr. pickles, ever the queen, trotted over and sat primly by your feet, tail twitching as if she expected you to serve her a scoop. gojo cat, on the other hand, had found a stray spoon to bat around the kitchen floor like it was his lifeâs mission. you handed geto a bowl, and he graciously accepted before pulling out his macbook and setting it on the table. "mind if i put something on?"
"as long as itâs not UN debates or a soba recipe tutorial," you teased, leaning over to peer at his screen. to your credit, you werenât snoopingâyou were just curious about what kind of stuff an international law student kept on their homepage. but the minute you saw it, you froze. nestled among his neatly arranged bookmarks for email, law journals, and a soba takeout joint, was your spotify profile. your brain went into immediate overdrive. oh dear god. oh no. oh yes. wait, what?
you fought the urge to gasp, to point, to scream into the void. instead, you settled for the most nonchalant reaction you could muster. "huh. your bookmarks are soâŠorganized." but your awkward tone gave you away, and geto, sharp as ever, followed your gaze. when his eyes landed on the offending bookmark, he paused mid-scoop, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "oh," he said, clearly trying to play it cool. "uh, yeah. thatâsâuh, for convenience. you know, for when you share playlists and stuff."
"totally," you replied, nodding far too enthusiastically. "makes sense. who doesnât bookmark their friendsâ spotify profiles?" you were lying through your teeth, and you both knew it. but instead of feeling weirded out, your heart felt like it might actually burst. he bookmarked your spotify. this ridiculously attractive, smart, and funny guy has done something so nerdy and cute, and you think you might die. the silence stretched awkwardly until you couldnât take it anymore. "soâŠwhatâs your favorite playlist of mine?" you asked, trying to keep your tone casual but failing miserably.
geto, to his credit, recovered quickly. "probably the one you called âin the clerb, we all cryinâ.â itâs got a lot of questionable choices."
"questionable choices?" you gasped, feigning offense. "excuse me, those are carefully curated emotional masterpieces!"
"right, right," he said, nodding solemnly but with a teasing glint in his eyes. "masterpieces like, what was it? âtornâ by natalie imbruglia followed by party rock anthem?"
"thatâs called range, geto."
he laughed again, and you swore it was the best sound youâd ever heard. meanwhile, gojo cat had successfully cornered the spoon under the fridge, and mr. pickles let out an indignant meow, clearly unimpressed by the lack of attention directed her way. "anyways," you said, clearing your throat and desperately trying to steer the conversation away from how much your soul had ascended, "what are we watching?" he smirked, clearly enjoying your flustered state. "how about a soba recipe tutorial? you know, for research purposes."
"get out of my house," you deadpanned, throwing a napkin at him. but deep down, you couldnât stop smiling. maybe you did like geto. just a little. or a lot. whoâs counting?
-
the youtube video played on, gordon ramsey passionately dissecting the finer points of why "tiramisu supremacy" should be the law of the land, but you werenât paying attention anymore. instead, you were hyper-aware of the ridiculously attractive man next to you, lounging on your bed, casually eating rocky road like he wasnât a complete menace to your sanity. gojo cat had stationed himself at your feet, swiping lazily at a loose thread on your blanket. mr. pickles, in a rare display of domestic harmony, perched regally on a pillow next to geto like she was claiming him as her territory. you could almost hear her smug little cat thoughts: this one? yes, acceptable.
meanwhile, you? you were losing it. somehowâthrough some strange twist of fate or cosmic jokeâyour head had ended up resting on getoâs chest. his chest. his sculpted, unfairly perfect chest. you told yourself it was for comfort, or convenience, or whatever excuse your brain could scramble together. oh god, is this okay? what if he thinks iâm weird? or worse, what if he doesnât care at all?
his arm was just kind of⊠hovering there, like it didnât know what to do. his bicep flexed every time he adjusted, and you swore it was on purpose. itâs not on purpose, idiot. calm down. "you good there?" his voice cut through your internal spiral, warm and teasing. you cleared your throat, suddenly self-conscious. "uh, yeah. totally fine. just... comfortable, i guess."
"comfortable, huh?" he echoed, his tone light but his heart doing cartwheels. sheâs comfortable. okay. donât freak out. play it cool. meanwhile, geto was absolutely not playing it cool. this is fine. this is normal. people hang out like this all the time. friends. buddies. totally platonic. on a bed. watching gordon ramsey. with her head on my chest. oh god, iâm dying. his arm was still hovering awkwardly, and it was starting to cramp. should he justâ? no. too much. but maybe? before he could overthink it further, you shifted slightly, glancing up at him.
"you can, you know," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. he blinked down at you, dumbfounded. "can what?"
"put your arm around me," you mumbled, cheeks heating up like a furnace. getoâs brain short-circuited. oh god, she said i can. she actually said i can. is this real? am i dreaming? whereâs gojo? he needs to see this. wait, no, absolutely not. this is private. oh god, my arm.
"uh, yeah. sure," he finally said, his voice cracking just a little as he tried to sound casual. his arm settled around your shoulders, warm and solid, and you let out a content sigh. meanwhile, internally, he was screaming. this is the best day of his life.
"youâre stiff as hell," you teased, glancing up at him. "sorry, itâs justâiâm not used toâ" he fumbled, trailing off. "chill out," you said with a soft laugh, your hand lightly resting on his chest. "itâs just me."
just you. the girl heâd been pining after for weeks. the girl whose spotify profile heâd bookmarked. the girl whose cats heâd willingly co-parented like an idiot in love. he wasnât even sure how he was still breathing. "yeah," he said softly, his lips quirking into a small smile. "just you."
"hey, are you even watching?" you asked, gesturing at the screen where ramsey was now passionately defending the honor of cannoli. "uh, yeah. totally," he lied, having absolutely no idea what was happening in the video. "oh yeah? then whatâs his stance on panna cotta?" you challenged, raising an eyebrow. geto paused for a second, then grinned sheepishly. "panna whatta?" you groaned, laughing despite yourself. "youâre hopeless."
"hopelessly charmed," he muttered under his breath, but thankfully, the loud volume drowned it out. gojo cat let out an exaggerated yawn, curling up at the foot of the bed, while mr. pickles blinked at both of you with what could only be described as approval. and for a brief moment, with you curled up against him, geto thought that maybe, just maybe, domesticity wasnât so bad after all.
the clock on your bedside table glowed 9:30 pm, the red numbers a cruel reminder that sunday was slipping away. geto shifted slightly, the arm around your shoulders reluctantly moving as if to signal his departure. right. college tomorrow. responsibilities. but neither of you moved. instead, his attempt to lift his arm ended in a poorly executed maneuver that pulled you closerâmuch closer. suddenly, your face was inches from his, and you could feel the warmth radiating off his skin. his breath hitched. oh god. oh no. oh yes. what if he does something stupid? like kiss you? no, bad idea. abort. retreat. pull away. youâll think heâs weirdâ
you kissed him first. his brain went blank.
your lips pressed softly against his, a tentative, curious movement that sent every coherent thought in his mind scattering like autumn leaves in the wind. your lip balmâsomething fruity, maybe peach?âlingered on his lips, blending with the faint taste of rocky road ice cream. his heart stopped, then kickstarted with a force that left him lightheaded. "oh," he murmured against your lips, his voice barely audible. "oh?" you pulled back slightly, a teasing smile quirking your lips. "i â i mean â" he stammered, his cheeks flushing a deep pink. "uh, wow."
"wow?" you laughed softly, your hands sliding up his chest, your fingers curling lightly into his shirt. "shut up," he groaned, but his grin betrayed him as his hands instinctively found your waist, steadying you as you moved to straddle his lap. oh god. oh god. sheâs on my lap. this is not a drill. repeat, this is not a drill. "youâre awfully red, suguru," you teased, your tone light, but the way your fingers brushed against his jaw made his pulse race. "yeah, well, youâreâ" he cut himself off, his eyes flickering to your lips before meeting your gaze. "youâre unfairly pretty, okay? and iâm trying not to pass out here."
"pretty?" you echoed, feigning innocence as you leaned in closer, your noses brushing. "is that all?" he chuckled, low and breathy. "pretty, gorgeous, unfairly cute. take your pick." before he could spiral into another wave of self-doubt, you kissed him again, and this time, he responded in full. his lips moved against yours, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to savor every second. his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him, his fingers flexing like he couldnât quite believe you were real. in the background, gordon ramseyâs voice bellowed something about undercooked risotto, but neither of you noticed. this is what dreams are made of, right? he thought. her lips, her taste, the way sheâs holding onto me like iâm her favorite person in the world. rocky road and lip balm and⊠gordon ramsey? okay, ignore that. focus. focus on her.
"you good there, suguru?" you murmured against his lips, your voice laced with amusement. "good?" he echoed, his hands sliding up to cradle your face. "iâm amazing. incredible. best night of my life, no contest."
"youâre such a dork," you laughed, your forehead resting against his. "yeah, well," he said, his smile softening as his thumb brushed along your cheek. "you like this dork."
"i do," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. his heart soared. he tightened his hold on you, his lips ghosting over yours once more as he whispered, "good. because i donât think iâm letting you go anytime soon." the clock ticked on, but neither of you cared anymore. responsibilities could wait.
-
just as getoâs lips brushed against yours for what felt like the hundredth time that evening, a loud, synchronized cacophony of meows erupted from the corner of the bed. you both froze.
there sat gojo cat and mr. pickles, staring at the two of you with matching expressions of feline judgment. mr. pickles, her fur slightly puffed and her eyes narrowed, let out an indignant mrrrow that sounded suspiciously like "get a room." gojo cat, ever the instigator, joined in with an exaggerated meeeooowwww, his tail flicking dramatically as if to say, "seriously? right in front of us?"
âoh my god,â you mumbled, burying your face in getoâs neck as he chuckled, the sound rumbling against you. âi think weâve offended the fur babies,â he said, clearly trying not to laugh too loudly as gojo cat began pacing in circles, yowling like a siren. âoffended? they sound like theyâre trying to declare war,â you muttered, pulling back reluctantly. âmaybe theyâre just jealous,â geto teased, his dark eyes twinkling as he reached up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. âjealous of what?â you scoffed, glancing at the cats. mr. pickles was still bristling like a wronged queen, while gojo cat was now attempting to paw at the edge of the bed for dramatic emphasis.
âof this.â geto smirked, leaning in like he was about to steal another kiss, but mr. pickles let out a sharp hiss, cutting him off. âokay, okay, time out!â you said, waving your hands in surrender. with a sigh, geto released you, though his hand lingered on your waist for a moment longer. âguess thatâs our cue.â you followed him to the door, the cats trailing behind like disapproving chaperones. gojo cat let out one last, drawn-out meow as if to say "good riddance," while mr. pickles sat primly by the door, glaring up at geto with all the disdain she could muster. âsheâs really protective of you, huh?â geto said, slipping his shoes on. âalways has been,â you replied, your hand resting on the doorknob. âprobably doesnât help that you keep bribing her with treats.â
âbribing?â he repeated, feigning offense. âthatâs called building trust.â
âsure it is, mr. international law,â you teased, leaning against the doorframe.
he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. âspeaking of trust, uh⊠iâll pick you up tomorrow? for class?â you raised an eyebrow, smirking. âtrying to make this a habit now?â
âwell,â he said, his cheeks pinking slightly, âi figured iâd bring you another one of those fancy croissants. and, you know, maybe see you smile first thing in the morning again.â your chest tightened at his words, warmth spreading through you. âsmooth, geto.â
âis that a yes?â he asked, his voice softer now, his gaze locked on yours. âyeah,â you said, your lips curving into a smile. before he could step out, he leaned down, his lips brushing yours in a quick but lingering kiss that made your heart race. when he pulled back, his smile was uncharacteristically shy.
âgoodnight,â he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
âgoodnight,â you replied, watching as he walked away, his hands stuffed into his pockets but his stride noticeably lighter.
as you closed the door, you turned to find mr. pickles sitting side by side, staring up at you with unreadable expressions. âdonât look at me like that,â you said, pointing at her. âyouâre the ones who ruined the moment.â mr. pickles let out a chirpy meep , as if to say "iâm just doing my job," before padding back to her nesting area with an air of smug satisfaction. you shook your head, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face. whatever this thing with suguru was, you didnât want it to end. not now, not ever.
chapter 5: justin bieber and other forms of groveling
you swung the door open, expecting to find a text from geto telling you to come downstairs like a normal person. instead, you were met with him. suguru geto, standing at your doorstep, looking like heâd just stepped out of a gq photoshoot. âmorning!â he greeted cheerfully, his voice as smooth as his suit. yes, a suit. a dark, perfectly tailored one that hugged his broad shoulders and slim waist just right, paired with a crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the top, exposing just a hint of his collarbone. the whole look was topped off with a skinny black tie and shiny leather oxfords that somehow made you question if you were even allowed to walk next to him. and donât even get started on his hairâpulled back into a low bun, with a few loose strands framing his stupidly perfect face. âwhyâwhy are you here?â you stammered, gripping the doorframe for support because, honestly, this man might be a health hazard. âthought iâd save you the trip downstairs,â he said casually, though his lips curled into a smirk like he knew exactly what he was doing. âbesides, i wanted to see you earlier.â great. now your heart was doing this weird fluttery thing, and you hated it. âyou know you couldâve just texted me, right? like a normal person?â
âwhereâs the fun in that?â he quipped, his voice tinged with amusement.
ugh.Â
the first thing that hit you when you slid into his carâa sleek black bmw z4 convertible with the top downâwas the overwhelming scent of car cleaner mixed with him. âdid youâdid you just get this cleaned?â you asked, wrinkling your nose at the smell. âmaybe,â he replied, a little too quickly. you glanced at the dashboard, which was spotless and gleaming. the leather seats looked freshly polished, and there wasnât a single crumb or speck of dust in sight. well, except for the faint trace of orange fur on the passenger seat. âyou missed a spot,â you teased, pointing at the fur. âgojo,â he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. âaw, donât be mad at him,â you said, grinning. âheâs just marking his territory.â
âyeah, well, heâs not paying for this car, is he?â suguru shot back, though the corners of his lips twitched upward. the car smelled like money, honestly. the leather had that rich, almost intimidating scent, and the steering wheel looked like it had been handcrafted by someone with a phd in luxury interiors. but somehow, there was this comforting undertone of suguruâs cologneâspicy, woodsy, and ridiculously distracting. you tried to act normal, like you werenât suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were to him in this car that felt way too intimate for a ride to campus. âso, whatâs the occasion?â you asked, nodding toward his suit as he pulled out onto the main road. âinternship meeting after class,â he explained, keeping his eyes on the road. âwanted to make a good impression.â
âyeah, well, mission accomplished,â you mumbled, more to yourself than him, but he still heard. âwhat was that?â he asked, glancing at you with a playful smirk. ânothing,â you said quickly, your cheeks heating. as he drove, you found yourself sneaking glances at his hands on the wheel. his sleeves were rolled up just enough to expose his forearms, which looked unfairly muscular for a guy who claimed to âbarely have time for the gym.â the veins running up his arms were just⊠there, taunting you.
âyouâve been working out, huh?â you blurted, unable to stop yourself. he chuckled, a low, warm sound that made your stomach flip. ânoticed, huh?â
âkind of hard not to when your biceps are trying to break out of that shirt,â you retorted, trying to sound nonchalant. âoh, this?â he said, flexing his forearm slightly as he adjusted the gearshift, clearly showing off. âugh, stop,â you groaned, covering your face with your hands. âyouâre so annoying.â
âand yet here you are,â he teased, shooting you a quick grin before turning his attention back to the road. as you sat there, half-annoyed and half-smitten, you couldnât help but think that this man was going to be the death of you.
-
the two of you sat in the car outside your campus building for a moment longer than necessary. the engine was off, but the atmosphere buzzed with something heavy, something neither of you dared to name yet. geto had one hand draped lazily over the steering wheel, the other resting casually on the gearshift, but you werenât fooled. his jaw was tense, and his thumb tapped nervously against the leather, a small tell that youâd come to recognize. he didnât want this ride to end. neither did you, if you were being honest. âso,â you started, your voice almost shy. âthanks for the ride.â he glanced over at you, his dark eyes soft but smoldering all at once. âyeah,â he said, his voice low, âanytime.â and just when you thought heâd let you leave, he moved.
his handâlarge, warm, and calloused just enough to send a thrill through youâslipped behind your neck, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sent goosebumps racing down your arms. the touch was firm but gentle, commanding but tender.
âcome here,â he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
you didnât even have time to process before he pulled you in, his lips crashing against yours with a fervor that left you breathless. this wasnât just a goodbye kiss; no, this was something deeper, something that spoke of longing and frustration and a thousand unsaid things. his lips were soft but insistent, moving against yours like he was trying to memorize the feel of you, like he didnât care that the windows werenât tinted enough for the scene unfolding inside. his tongue swept against your lower lip, asking, no, demanding entrance, and you couldnât deny him. the taste of himâcoffee from earlier, a hint of mint, and something uniquely suguruâwas enough to make your head spin. your hand instinctively came up to his chest, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt as if to steady yourself. but instead of pulling away, he deepened the kiss, tilting his head to get a better angle, and you thought you might actually lose all sense of reality.
when he finally pulled back, it wasnât abrupt. no, he lingered, his lips brushing against yours one last time, as if reluctant to let go. his breathing was heavy, his cheeks slightly flushed, and when you looked up at him, you saw the faint sheen of your lip gloss smeared on his mouth. his lipsâpink, swollen, and thoroughly kissedâwere enough to make your brain short-circuit.
âyouâve gotââ you gestured vaguely to his mouth, your voice shaky. he raised an eyebrow, smirking in that infuriatingly confident way. âlip gloss?â he guessed, his thumb brushing over his bottom lip like he was testing the feel of it. âyeah,â you mumbled, feeling your own cheeks heat up. âgood,â he said simply, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. âiâll keep it.â you wanted to scream, cry, and maybe kiss him again all at once. instead, you just sat there, dazed, as he leaned back, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
âguess i should let you go now,â he said, though his tone made it clear he wasnât entirely thrilled about the idea. âyeah,â you managed to say, though your legs felt like jelly just thinking about walking into that building. as you stepped out of the car, the smell of car cleaner and his cologne still lingering around you, you could feel the weight of peopleâs stares. it wasnât like fancy cars were a rare sight, but you stepping out of that car, looking thoroughly flustered and kissed? yeah, that was something. you glanced back at him one last time before closing the door. he gave you a small wave, the smirk still firmly in place. âiâll pick you up later,â he called out, and you swore you heard the faintest hint of smugness in his voice. âyeah, okay,â you replied, trying to sound normal even though your entire body felt like it was on fire. as you walked toward the building, your mind raced with one singular thought: suguru geto was going to be the end of you. and honestly? you were okay with that.
-
as geto shifted gears and eased into a parking spot, he let out a long breath he didnât realize heâd been holding. "oh, suguru, what a smooth operator you are," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his already-perfect hair. but as his fingers grazed his lips, he froze. oh no.
your lip glossâthat faint pink menaceâwas still there. he squinted into the rearview mirror, tilting his face left and right like he was analyzing evidence at a crime scene. yup, definitely there. and definitely noticeable.
âcool. love that for me,â he said under his breath, grabbing a tissue from the glove compartment. he dabbed at his lips gently, trying to erase the sheen. but no matter how much he rubbed, it refused to disappear completely. a faint tint lingered, stubborn and utterly humiliating. not that he minded, of course. secretly, he was fighting the urge to giggle like a high schooler who just got his crushâs number. she kissed me, he thought, his inner monologue doing cartwheels. and now her lip gloss is on me. does this count as shared property? do i need to buy her a ring now? he glanced at the building where youâd disappeared moments ago. a soft smile tugged at his lips, but then he caught his own reflection again, and the smile turned into a scowl.
âfocus, suguru. youâre an international law student, not a lovesick teen,â he muttered, trying to psych himself up. but then, completely unbidden, the lyrics hit him: shawtyâs like a melody in my head that i canât keep outâ
âoh my god, no,â he groaned, dropping his forehead against the steering wheel. âpull it together.â he sat up straight, fixing his tie like he was about to walk into court, not class. still, his thoughts wandered back to the kiss. he could still feel the warmth of your lips on his, the way you tasted faintly of coffee and lip gloss. âyeah, okay, maybe iâm a little lovesick,â he admitted to no one, sighing dramatically. a loud honk snapped him out of his reverie, and he jerked upright, eyes darting around. some guy in a beat-up sedan gave him a look as if to say, get moving, pretty boy.
âright, right, focus,â geto muttered, putting the car into park. but the distraction had already done its damage. in his daydream, heâd nearly considered driving through the building instead of parking near it. and not for the first time. last semester, thereâd been that unfortunate incident where heâd been too engrossed in memorizing legal jargon to realize he was barreling toward the curb. it wasnât his finest moment, but hey, everyone made mistakes. this time, though, it wasnât legal jargon messing with his head. it was you.
after ensuring his car was perfectly parked (and double-checking for rogue curbs), he checked his reflection one last time. hair? immaculate. tie? sharp. lips? âŠstill faintly pink. he sighed, leaning back in his seat. "well, if anyone asks, itâs my new look," he muttered, smirking to himself. but deep down, he wasnât bothered. in fact, the idea of walking into his building, pink lip gloss and all, knowing it was from you? yeah, he could live with that.
-
you glance at your phone for what feels like the millionth time, the lock screen mocking you with its time: 6:45 p.m. every minute that ticks by feels like an eternity. where the hell was geto? the man who swore on rocky road ice cream and cats that heâd pick you up after class. âugh, liar,â you grumble under your breath, clutching your phone tighter. you dial his number again, half-hoping, half-dreading, that heâd pick up. the line rings once, twice, and then straight to voicemail. âfigures.â
the campus courtyard is thinning out now, with most students heading home or to their dorms. you, however, are still standing at the edge of the parking lot, looking like the poster child for loser-core chic. a group of girls you vaguely recognize from your department walk by, their giggles low and conspiratorial as they glance in your direction. one of them nudges her friend and whispers loudly, âsee? i told you. you canât trust law guys. theyâre always playing games.â you stiffen, feeling your cheeks heat. okay, rude. but alsoâŠthey might have a point?
âpoor girl,â another one says, her voice dripping with pity. âshe probably thought she was special.â your jaw tightens as you resist the urge to shout back, no, actually, heâs probably just late! maybe traffic, or⊠or⊠you groan inwardly. even you donât buy your excuses anymore. just as youâre debating whether to crawl under a bush and live there forever, your deskmate, nanami kento, approaches. ever the epitome of politeness, he clears his throat softly before speaking. âhey,â he begins, adjusting the strap of his leather satchel. âare you, uh, waiting for someone?â
you force a smile, trying to appear less like a rejected rom-com protagonist. âyeah, uh⊠my rideâs just running a little late.â nanamiâs brow furrows slightly, and he glances at his watch. âitâs been over thirty minutes.â
ouch. okay, way to rub salt in the wound, kento.
he sighs, looking almostâŠsympathetic? âi could drop you off if youâd like. itâs on my way.â
normally, any sane, self-respecting woman would jump at the chance to be chauffeured home by nanami kentoâa man so punctual and reliable, heâs basically a walking swiss watch. but alas, you are neither self-respecting nor particularly sane at this moment. âthanks, nanami, but iâm good,â you say, waving him off with a grin thatâs probably more pained than reassuring. he nods slowly, clearly unconvinced but too polite to argue. âalright. take care, then.â as he walks away, you let out a long sigh, your earlier bravado crumbling. âugh, geto, youâre so dead,â you mutter under your breath, kicking a stray pebble across the pavement. by now, the campus is nearly deserted, and the idea of taking the bus home looms over you like a dark cloud. with a resigned sigh, you check the bus schedule on your phone. the next one isnât due for another 15 minutes. just perfect.
the bus ride home is as glamorous as youâd expectâfluorescent lights that make everyone look vaguely ill, the faint smell of stale chips and rubber, and the occasional bump that sends you jerking forward. you plop into an empty seat, your bag clutched tightly on your lap. a group of teenagers in the back snicker about something, and the guy across from you is humming off-key to whateverâs blasting through his headphones. yeah, this is way better than being driven home in a bmw z4, you think bitterly, rolling your eyes.
the faint scent of orange fur clings to your bag, and you wonder if itâs from gojo cat sneaking into getoâs car this morning. the thought makes you irrationally mad all over again. i bet the car is fine. he probably just forgot or something stupid like that. you lean your head against the window, watching the city lights blur past. the rhythmic hum of the bus is oddly calming, but your thoughts are anything but. what if heâs hurt? a small, worried voice pipes up in the back of your mind. but you squash it quickly. no, heâs just being an idiot.
-
geto is convinced this is how he diesânot by some massive legal scandal or a tragic car accident, but by sheer embarrassment. the moment the clock hit 6:00 p.m., he knew he was doomed. when the hands of time ticked past 6:45, panic set in. itâs fine, he had told himself, gripping his steering wheel with white-knuckled determination. she probably hasnât even noticed yet. but she had noticed. oh god, had she noticed. every missed call and unread text was like a dagger to his heart. he could practically feel your disappointment vibrating through his phone. the sheer audacity of his internship, requiring him to sit through endless discussions about treaties and bylaws while you were out thereâwaiting for him like some rom-com protagonist.
and what does he find when he finally arrives at campus? absolutely nothing. a deserted lot, the soft hum of crickets, and not a single trace of you. he rubs a hand over his face, groaning as he slams his car door shut. great, suguru. really great. not only do you make law students look unreliable, but youâve also officially cemented yourself as a clown in front of the only person who matters.
so, he does the only thing a desperate man can do: breaks every traffic law ever invented, zipping through yellow lights and cutting corners like itâs his goddamn personal mission to get to the apartment before you disappear entirely. âplease donât hate me,â he mutters under his breath as his bmw roars down the street. âiâll get on my knees if i have to. maybe not in public, but likeâŠif it comes to that.â
meanwhile, youâre trudging through the dimly lit hallway of your apartment complex, the bus ride home having sucked every last ounce of life out of you. your feet ache, your bag feels heavier than ever, and your faith in men has plummeted to new depths. he didnât even call back. the audacity, you think bitterly, fumbling for your keys. wasnât i just defending international law men this morning? god, iâm so stupid.
youâre too busy cursing geto to notice the looming figure leaning casually against the wall by the elevatorâsukuna. he smells like croissants and cigarettes, an objectively weird combination that somehow works when itâs him. his uniformâa black button-down rolled up to the elbows and an apron slung lazily over one shoulderâis dusted with flour. âyo,â he greets, his voice low and gravelly as always. you freeze mid-step, praying you donât look like a drowned rat after that miserable commute. âuh, hey.â
âlate night?â he asks, cocking an eyebrow as he takes in your obvious exhaustion. âsomething like that,â you mumble, trying not to sound as annoyed as you feel. sukunaâs sharp eyes flick to your bag. âbus, huh? thought you were too fancy for public transport these days. what happened to prince charming?â oh great. just what i needed, you think, rolling your eyes internally. âprince charming is currently on my list,â you snap, more to yourself than him. âyikes.â sukuna lets out a low chuckle, his smirk infuriatingly smug. âguess mr. perfect isnât as perfect as you thought.â
âokay, first of all,â you shoot back, âiâm not having this conversation with you. second, why do you even care?â he shrugs, clearly unbothered. âi donât. just funny to see you slumming it with the rest of us peasants.â before you can muster a witty retort, the sound of rapid footsteps echoes down the hallway. you both turn just in time to see geto rushing in, his tie slightly askew and his expression one of pure panic.
âthere you are,â he blurts, skidding to a stop in front of you. his eyes dart between you and sukuna, his brows furrowing slightly. âoh, now you show up,â you say, crossing your arms. âdid you have fun ghosting me for two hours?â
âwait, i can explainââ
âcanât wait to hear this,â sukuna mutters under his breath, earning a glare from you.
geto runs a hand through his hair, his words spilling out in a rush. âi got stuck at my internship, and they donât let us use our phonesâ stupid rule, i knowâbut i swear i tried to get to you as fast as i could. i even broke, like, five traffic laws. maybe six.â you narrow your eyes, unimpressed. âand thatâs supposed to make me feel better?â
âno! i mean, yes! i meanâŠâ he groans, clearly flustered. âlook, iâm sorry. really. iâll do anything to make it up to you. please donât be mad.â sukuna snickers, leaning back against the wall. âwow. anything, huh? bold move, law boy.â
âcan you not?â you snap at sukuna before turning back to geto. âfine. you can start by explaining why my calls didnât matter enough for you to pick up.â
âthey did matter!â geto insists, his voice rising slightly. âi swear, if i couldâve answered, i wouldâve.â sukuna snorts, muttering, âsounds like excuses to me.â
âdude, seriously?â geto snaps, finally losing his patience. âguys, enough!â you cut in, throwing your hands up. âiâm too tired for this. suguru, if youâre really sorry, you can start by leaving me alone for the rest of the night.â
getoâs face falls, but he nods reluctantly. âokay. yeah. iâll go.â as he turns to leave, sukuna shoots you a smug grin. âguess prince charming isnât so charming after all.â you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose.Â
-
youâre sprawled out on your couch in the most dramatic fashion imaginable, mr. pickles perched on your chest like some kind of feline overlord. her tail swishes back and forth, slapping your face occasionally as if sheâs judging you for your life choices. canât even secure a law student, her gaze seems to say. and honestly? fair. lanas haunting voice croons âthe other womanâ from your speaker, because of course your brain thought this was the perfect soundtrack to your misery. who is the other woman, his degree? you wonder, staring blankly at the ceiling while mr. pickles kneads your collarbone with zero regard for your comfort. maybe itâs the un charter. maybe sheâs prettier than me. you groan, picking up your phone to scroll aimlessly, only to see it light up with a string of notifications. itâs geto.
geto: hey. geto: iâm so sorry, seriously. geto: please donât hate me. geto: gojo cat is crying.
and there it is, a picture of gojo cat edited with comically large tears streaming down his face. you snort despite yourself.
geto: i can explain. geto: the internship is evil. geto: satan himself probably drafted those treaties. geto: and i had to read them all. geto: sorry :((((
you roll your eyes but feel your lips twitch. the messages keep coming.
geto: look, i even made a playlist called âmy apologiesâ to make it up to you. geto: song 1: sorry by justin bieber. geto: song 2: call me maybe by carly rae jespen. geto: song 3: iâm a fool by cee lo green.
youâre this close to laughing when another message pops up.
geto: please forgive me, iâll do anything. geto: iâll even let mr. pickles sit in the bmw.
now youâre grinning. typing back, you send:
you: doorâs unlocked.
the next sound you hear is heavy footsteps thundering down the hallway above. you blink. âheâs running,â you mutter, barely containing your laughter. within seconds, thereâs a knock at your door, and when you yell for him to come in, the door swings open to reveal a completely disheveled geto. his hairâs a mess, his suit jacket is halfway off his shoulder, and heâs panting like he just ran a marathon. âyouâre serious about leaving your door unlocked?â he breathes out, a hand on the doorframe for balance. âwhy are you out of breath?â you ask, trying not to laugh. âyou live one floor up.â
âsprinted,â he replies, straightening up. âpriorities.â
mr. pickles hops off your chest with a disgruntled meow, sauntering over to sniff him. she gives a little approving chirp before settling down by his feet. âeven mr. pickles forgave me,â he says, grinning like an idiot. âso, am i forgiven?â you lean back into the couch, trying to look unimpressed. âyou sent me a justin bieber song.â
âa classic apology move,â he counters, stepping closer. âand gojo cat cried. thatâs how sorry i am.â you roll your eyes but hold out your hand. âfine. youâre forgiven.â he takes your hand, pulling you up from the couch into his arms without hesitation. âgood. because iâm never missing another ride again. next time, iâm picking you up in advance, like a whole hour early.â you snort. âyouâd probably park outside my window and text me to hurry up.â
âabsolutely,â he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. âiâll even bring coffee. and croissants.â mr. pickles lets out a loud, approving chirp. ah, love.
-
it did feel a little ridiculous, the way you were sprawled on top of geto on your couch, both of you tangled together in a heap of limbs. but neither of you seemed to care. he had one arm slung around your waist, keeping you steady, while his free hand lazily traced circles on your thigh. you were lying chest to chest, close enough to feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your cheek. "you know," he said, voice slightly muffled as he buried his face in your hair, "if i ever screw up like that again, iâm giving mr. pickles full authority to end me. claws out, no mercy." you lifted your head to meet his gaze, one eyebrow raised. "oh, sheâd do it too. and with that belly of hers, sheâs got some extra power now."
as if on cue, mr. pickles let out a loud, approving purr from her spot at the other end of the room, delicately grooming her very pregnant self. her tail flicked in what you could only assume was satisfaction at being included in this hypothetical revenge plot. geto chuckled, his hands tightening slightly on your waist. "there you have it. mr. pickles as judge, jury, and executioner. iâm officially terrified." you smiled, tracing the line of his jaw with your finger. "as you should be. she takes no prisoners."
âand neither do i,â he murmured, his tone dipping as he tilted his head up to kiss you. the shift in mood was sudden but not unwelcome. his lips pressed against yours with the kind of determination that made you forget how to breathe for a second. his hands slid to your hips, holding you in place as he leaned back against the cushions, taking you with him. "youâre really trying to prove a point, huh?" you teased, breath hitching as his grip tightened. "i donât think words are enough," he said between kisses, his voice low and smooth. "actions speak louder, right?" and speak they did. his hands wandered lower, firmly grabbing the soft curve of your ass, earning a surprised squeak from you. "suguru," you warned half-heartedly, though your hips involuntarily shifted against him. he grinned up at you, the picture of smug satisfaction. "what? i donât hear you complaining."
âyet,â you shot back, but your body betrayed you, rolling your hips again as heat pooled in your stomach. "thought so," he said, voice dipping into a near growl. his hands guided your movements, holding you steady as he kissed you again, deeper this time. it wasnât just apologetic; it was hungry, desperate, and laced with a promise to make up for every missed second. mr. pickles, ever the unbothered queen, yawned loudly from her perch. apparently, the impending chaos was none of her business.Â
things were absolutely peachyâliterally and figurativelyâbecause there you were, straddling geto on your worn-out couch like it was the most natural thing in the world. his tie had been discarded somewhere (youâll probably find it wedged under the couch cushions next month), and his usually crisp shirt was wrinkled beyond salvation. his hands, warm and firm, roamed over your thighs and hips, eventually settling on your ass, which he seemed determined to commit to memory with the way he kept squeezing. it was flattering, really. all those squats and lugging around mr. picklesâ oversized carrier had not gone unnoticed.
âyouâre really into this, huh?â you teased between kisses, nipping at his bottom lip just to feel the soft hitch in his breath. he grinned against your lips, shameless and unrepentant. âwhat can i say? iâm a man of taste.â his hands squeezed again, making you jolt slightly. âand damn, this is a masterpiece.â
âoh my god, suguru,â you groaned, half-laughing, half-mortified. âyou sound like a bad rom-com character.â he tilted his head back, letting out a deep, rumbling laugh that made your stomach flip. âhey, i call it like i see it. canât help it if iâm honest.â
âyeah, well, your honestyâs about to get you kicked off this couch,â you shot back, though your hands betrayed you, sliding up his chest to cup his face. âoh, câmon,â he said, leaning up to kiss you again, softer this time, like he was trying to remind you exactly why you hadnât kicked him out yet. âyouâd miss me too much.â and then, because suguru geto couldnât let a moment of peace exist, he smirked and said, âbesides, youâre the grandma of the house. gotta respect my elders.â you froze, pulling back just enough to stare at him with a look that could melt steel. âexcuse me?â
âgrandma,â he repeated, entirely too pleased with himself. âyou know, since youâre mr. picklesâ mom and all. technically makes youââ
âi swear to god, suguru,â you interrupted, cutting him off with a sharp pinch to his side that made him yelp. âdo you have a death wish?â
âwhat? itâs a term of endearment!â he tried, though his laughter betrayed him. âyouâre lucky i like nerds,â you muttered, but your lips betrayed you, curving into a reluctant smile as you leaned down to kiss him again. âlucky indeed,â he murmured, hands finding their favorite spot once more. mr. pickles, meanwhile, let out a loud, judgmental meow from her perch, as if to remind both of you who really ran this house.
and geto? geto was panicking. like, full-blown, internal monologue of doom panicking. sure, he looked calm on the outsideâwell, except for the faint pink creeping up his neck and the way his hands were starting to tremble just a bit against your hips. but inside? oh, it was a mess.
he loves ass. he loves your ass. in fact, he loves you. and while those three facts should be enough to keep him focused and confident, they were doing the exact opposite. becauseâplot twistâhe hasnât exactly been in the game for a while. âokay, breathe, suguru,â he muttered to himself under his breath, trying to keep his cool as your hands idly played with the collar of his shirt. but your superwoman instincts picked up on everything , and your raised brow as you looked down at him only made things worse. âyou good?â you asked, voice soft and teasing, but laced with genuine concern. âyeah, totally,â he replied too quickly, clearing his throat like that would erase the way his voice cracked. âiâm justâuh. just, you know... thinking.â you tilted your head, watching him with that infuriatingly cute little smile that made his stomach flip. âabout what? youâre usually a lot smoother than this, geto.â
âoh god, iâm blowing it,â he groaned, letting his head thump lightly against the back of the couch as he finally let the words tumble out. âitâs just... itâs been a while, okay? iâm out of practice or whatever, and now iâm worried iâm gonna, like, disappoint you or something. and that grandma joke? yeah, that was supposed to kill the mood so i could avoid all of this.â you blinked at him, caught between laughter and disbelief. âare you serious right now?â
âpainfully.â he sighed, running a hand through his hair, his other hand still planted on your hip. âyouâre amazing, and i just... i donât want to mess this up.â for a moment, you just stared at him, and he could feel himself shrinking under your gaze. but then, the smile that spread across your face was nothing short of wicked. âoh, suguru,â you murmured, leaning down so your lips brushed against his ear. âyou have no idea whatâs coming, do you?â his breath hitched as your hand slid down to the buttons of his shirt, popping one open with a practiced ease that made his heart skip a beat. âw-what do you mean?â
âi mean,â you said, voice dropping to a low, sultry tone that sent shivers down his spine, âiâm about to make sure you never, ever doubt yourself again. youâre gonna be too busy thanking me to think about whether or not youâre âout of practice.ââ
he swallowed hard, trying to think of a coherent response, but all that came out was a strangled, âuh â okay.â
âgood,â you said simply, shifting your weight and sliding down his lap. and as he looked down at you, wide-eyed and completely at your mercy, one thing became crystal clear to suguru geto: he was absolutely, 100%, in over his head.
-
diva down? diva down. the diva in question being you. you, the self-proclaimed diva of the century, were currently on your knees, ready to turn suguru getoâs jittery, bashful energy into something far more relaxedâwell, if relaxed meant completely wrecked. and honestly? you were thriving. âoh god,â geto let out a breathless laugh, raking a hand through his loose hair as he looked down at you, his cheeks pink and his eyes hazy with anticipation. âyou donât have toââ
âstop,â you cut him off with a teasing smirk, fingers already working on his belt with the precision of someone on a mission. âdonât ruin my moment, suguru.ïżœïżœïżœ he laughed again, that soft, breathless kind that made your stomach do flips. âright, wouldnât dream of it.â as you slid his belt free and popped open the button of his slacks, you couldnât help but notice how his chest rose and fell just a bit faster, the faintest hint of nerves lingering in his gaze. âyou good up there?â you asked, giving him a little grin. ây-yeah,â he stammered, licking his lips. âjust... uhh, taking it all in.â
âoh, youâre gonna be taking a lot more than that in a second,â you teased, tugging at his slacks. he groaned, tipping his head back against the couch as he laughed again, but he still lifted his hips eagerly to help you slide the fabric down. and holy shit. those slacks had been doing a lot of heavy lifting, and now, with them out of the way, you were faced with undeniable proof that suguru geto was not just hot, but also packing. âdamn,â you muttered, your eyes widening just a bit as you took him in. âwhat?â he asked, his voice tinged with nervousness, but also curiosity. ânothing,â you said quickly, though your smirk betrayed you. âjust... wow.â
âwow?â he echoed, his brows lifting.
âwow,â you confirmed, leaning in closer. âyouâre full of surprises, huh?â
he chuckled softly, his hand coming down to rest gently on your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that was almost too sweet for the situation. âi could say the same about you,â he murmured, his voice low and warm. âoh, suguru,â you said with a teasing lilt, your hands bracing against his thighs as you leaned in, letting your breath ghost over him. âyou have no idea.â and as you finally got to work, suguru let out a sound that was half laugh, half moan, his head tipping back as his hand slid into your hair. yeah, it was definitely going to be a long nightâfor both of you. and honestly?
bless men raised by their mothers. or at least men who respect women beyond a surface level, because suguru geto? he was proving himself to be a certified sweetheart even with his brain turned to mush. "god, you're...you're so good at this," he babbled, voice pitched just enough to send a shiver down your spine. "likeâohhh, fuckâyouâre perfect. seriously, i donât know howâfuckâyouâre even real."
you couldnât help but smirk around him, though the sheer earnestness in his tone was making your head spin. suguru wasnât just moaningâno, he was giving you a running commentary like his life depended on it. and honestly? the mix of his praise, his ridiculous vocabulary, and the raw honesty of his reactions were doing more for you than you cared to admit. "shiiit, babe," he groaned, his hand tightening in your hair as his hips shifted just slightly, like he was trying to hold himself back. "youâre incredible. so... so fuckingâgod, youâre beautiful." you hummed against him, letting the vibrations travel through him, and the broken moan he let out in response was almost enough to make you moan.âiâfuck,â he stammered, his free hand clenching and unclenching on the couch cushion as though he was trying to ground himself. âi canât evenâfuck, youâre amazing. you know that, right? like, amazing.âÂ
it was ridiculous, really. this level of detailed, horny babbling shouldnât be hot, and yet, suguruâs desperate, unfiltered honesty was doing a number on you. youâd kiss him if your mouth wasnât otherwise occupied. âyouâre gonnaâoh fuck, youâre gonna ruin me,â he rasped, his words punctuated by a low, shaky laugh. âlike, actually. no coming back from this. youâreâshitâso perfect, babe. i donât even know how youâre real.â you glanced up at him briefly, catching the flush on his cheeks and the dazed, almost reverent look in his eyes. he looked wrecked already, and you werenât even close to finished. yeah, men raised right were a blessing. and suguru geto? he was living proof.
suguru was going to cry. or die. or both. maybe at the same time. because when a simple, god-loving, god-fearing man like him thought of youâhis girl, his loveâhis mind didnât stop at the surface. no, it wandered far, far into the future. he dared to dream big: marriage, a nice house with you, gojo cat and mr. pickles running the place with their eventual brood of kittens, and maybe, if he let himself get really carried away, a kid or two of your own. but this? this was not in the script. not the way he imagined this happening, not this soon. was he complaining, though? no, not one bit. still, suguru couldnât shake the way his brain was short-circuiting. what if you thought this was weird? not the moment itselfâbecause, holy shit, this moment was unrealâbut the way he couldnât control the ridiculous rambling bubbling out of him.
âgod, youâre... youâre gonna be the death of me,â he stammered, his voice breaking slightly as his hand tightened on the couch cushion beneath him. âseriously. iâm done for. youâveâfuckâyouâve got me wrapped around your finger. literally, figuratively... h-hell, every way there is.â he let out a shaky laugh, his other hand brushing the edge of your jaw, his touch featherlight like he was afraid heâd break youâor worse, wake up and find out this was all a dream. âyou have no idea, do you?â he murmured, his tone softening even as his breaths came uneven. âhow much iâfuck, how much i love you.â
that admission was supposed to stay locked in his chest, hidden away alongside the future house and the diary full of thoughts he would probably never admit aloud. but there it was, laid bare in the open. his throat tightened as he watched for your reaction, his heart pounding in his chest like it was trying to break free. his mind raced with every possibilityâwhat if you thought he was moving too fast? what if this ruined everything?
you were going to die. or cry. or both. maybe not in that order, but the emotional whiplash was real. because while you wereâlet's face itâgiving the performance of your life, suguru geto had the audacity to play the wildest card in his hand: he told you he loved you. the words hit you like a sucker punch, making your brain screech to a halt. you paused, pulling him out of your mouth with a slick, obscene pop, a strand of spit still connecting the two of you as you gaped at him like heâd just told you the earth was flat. âwait, what?â your voice was hoarse, a little breathless, and full of disbelief. your hands remained steady on his thighs, but you werenât about to let that slide. âsay that again.â
suguru blinked at you, his flushed face half-covered by the messy curtain of his hair. and yet, somehow, he still looked every bit the breathtaking dork you fell for. âi... i said i love you,â he mumbled, his voice soft, but you could see the telltale signs of his nerves in the way his hands fidgeted at his sides. oh, you knew you won now. your lips curved into a sly, wicked grin, your heart pounding in your chest for reasons that had nothing to do with what you were doing moments ago. âgood,â you said simply, your voice low and teasing, before brushing your thumb over his hip bone in a way that made him shiver. âbecause i love you too, suguru.â the way his eyes widened, his chest hitching in disbelief, was almost enough to undo you completely. but you werenât done. oh no, not by a long shot.
you leaned in again, doubling down on your efforts with a newfound determination, your mouth warm and eager as you took him back in. this time, you didnât hold back, letting him feel just how much you meant those words. the soft noises tumbling out of him turned into broken, desperate moans as you let him slide deeper, letting him bump against the back of your throat with a confidence that made his hips jerk. âholyâfucck, baby, â he gasped, his voice trembling as his hands instinctively tangled in your hair. âyouâreâoh my godâi canâtââ
and just like that, he was gone. the way his body tensed, his hand gripping the back of the couch like a lifeline, was all the warning you got before he tipped over the edge, his release hitting you with an intensity that left him trembling beneath you. you pulled back slightly, swallowing and smirking as he looked down at you with dazed, love-struck eyes, his chest heaving. âyou okay there, lover boy?â you teased, wiping your lips with the back of your hand as you crawled up to straddle him. he groaned, dragging his hands over his flushed face, but even through his embarrassment, you could see the adoration shining in his gaze. âyouâre going to be the death of me,â he muttered, but the small, lovesick smile on his lips said he wouldnât have it any other way.
somewhere in the tangled chaos of his mind, suguru was thinking about reciprocity in customary international lawâsomething about how states are expected to treat each other in kind. why this popped into his head as he helped you up from your knees, he had no idea. maybe his brain was short-circuiting from everything that had just transpired. or maybe it was just his nerdy coping mechanism for the sheer intensity of what was about to go down. either way, he shelved the thought because all he knewâclearly, distinctly, and beyond a shadow of a doubtâwas that you needed help. erm, his girl needed help. and suguru geto? he was nothing if not a gentleman. âalright, up you go,â he said, his voice warm and teasing as he hooked an arm around you, effortlessly lifting you.
before you could even fully process what was happening, he threw you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing, carrying you to the bed. âoh my god, suguru!â you squealed, smacking his back, but there was no real heat behind it. " shh, this is for your benefit,â he said, laughing softly as he adjusted his grip. and with a surprising amount of precision for a man who had just been thoroughly flustered minutes earlier, he tossed you onto the bed. somehow, miraculously, you landed gracefullyâno awkward angles or unflattering positions. before you could catch your breath, suguru was already yanking down your pajama shorts, his movements sure and deliberate. his hair, still a little messy from your earlier efforts, framed his face as he looked down at you, his dark eyes filled with a mix of affection and hunger. you smirked, propping yourself up on your elbows. âyou know, if youâre really feeling sorry, thereâs one thing you could do.â his brows raised, intrigued. âoh? whatâs that?â
âsit down,â you said casually, leaning back against the pillows. âbecause iâm sitting on your face.â suguru froze for half a second, and you could swear you saw his soul leave his body. but then he let out a low, almost reverent laugh, his hands already sliding up your thighs as he knelt onto the bed. âyouâre killing me,â he muttered, his lips curving into a grin that was equal parts adoring and wicked. âbut if you insistâŠâ and as he settled himself beneath you, looking up at you with pure devotion, he thought to himselfâif he had a ring right now, heâd propose without a second thought.
sit on his face? seriously? where the hell did that confidence come from? because letâs be realâhave you ever sat on someoneâs face before? no? yeah, thatâs what i thought. so it really serves you right for hovering over suguruâs face in the most awkward, hesitant way possible after you practically tore your underwear off like a woman on a mission. and suguru, bless his sweet, sweet soul, was waiting so patiently. expectantly, even. until he let out this deep chuckleâlow and warm and way too sexy for your own goodâand before you could spiral any further into overthinking, he reached up and yanked you down onto his face. oh. OH. there was no time to process, no moment to think, because suddenly the same mouth that usually went on and on about laws, treaties, and whatever international nonsense was now french kissing your cunt like it was his one true calling in life.
you moanedâloud and borderline pornographicâbut could you really help it? suguru groaned against you, the vibrations shooting straight through you as his grip tightened on your thighs, holding you firmly in place like he had absolutely no plans of letting you escape. you tried. god, you tried to play it cool. tried to pull a geto on him with a little bit of horny babbling of your own, figuring heâd appreciate the effort. but every time you so much as opened your mouth to string a coherent sentence together, suguru would double down on his actionsâhis tongue flicking or curling in ways that had you seeing starsâand whatever youâd been planning to say vanished into the void, replaced by high-pitched whines and breathy moans.
âsuguruâoh my godââ
he hummed in response, the sound smug and almost teasing as he looked up at you from between your legs, his dark eyes practically glowing with amusement and pride. âyou talk too much,â he mumbled against you, the words muffled but clear enough to make your face heat up. and honestly? youâd be offended if he werenât so goddamn good at what he was doing.
geto was putting in the work. the work. and you? you were trying not to cry or completely lose your mind, but if you did, you had a sneaking suspicion heâd love it more than anything. the man had a thing for dramaâespecially if it was drama he caused. but in the middle of all this face-sitting, tongue-lapping, thigh-gripping madness, you noticed something else.
geto was hard. painfully so. the sight of him below you was already sinful enough, but the way his erection strained against his boxers, twitching every time you moaned his name, was almost too much. his response time to recover was unrealâmaddening, evenâbut considering it was you on top of him, you liked to think you deserved the credit. and since a wise saying says to love your neighbor as yourself, you decided to help a man out. literally. your hand snaked down between you two, wrapping around his length with a touch that had him freezing for a split second. âwhat are youâoh, fuck, â geto choked out, the sound muffled against your thighs as you yanked down his boxers and started stroking him.
he let out a garbled groan andâyou couldnât make this upâspat. he outright spat onto your cunt, the hot slickness dripping between your folds, and you? you loved it. the move earned him a sharp gasp, followed by a breathless laugh as you sped up your hand, squeezing him just enough to draw out those pretty whines you loved so much. âoh my god, suguru,â you teased, voice shaky but teasing nonetheless. âdid you justâ?â
âshut up,â he grunted, his words nearly swallowed by a low moan as you swiped your thumb over his tip. âyouâre the oneâfuckâdriving me insane right now.â and judging by the desperate way he buried his face against you, tongue moving feverishly as his hips bucked into your hand, youâd say he was enjoying this just as much as you were. but the real kicker? when you came, your body instinctively pressed down against his face, your thighs squeezing tight enough to almost cut off his air supply. geto didnât complain. not once. if anything, the muffled groan against your cunt and the way he jerked against your hand as he came told you heâd gladly die like this if it came to it. but luckily for both of you, you lived to tell the tale.
once the both of you had managed to throw on some semblance of clothing, clean up, and collapse into the bed, thatâs when reality hit geto like a brick wall. what. the. hell. just happened. as he laid there, his arm slung lazily around you, your soft breathing against his chest, his brain decided now was the perfect time to spiral. he glanced over at mr. pickles, who sat perched on the counter in the kitchenette, her tail flicking in judgment. the cat looked like she was debating calling the authorities on him for defiling her beloved owner. oh god. what does this make the two of you?
no, scratch that. the real panic set in when he remembered: he told you he loved you. not in some subtle, cute, roundabout way either. no, it was the full-blown, l-o-v-e type of confession. the kind he wrote about in his secret diary he kept under his bed. the kind that implied white picket fences, shared dreams, and a life together. and judging by the way you were pressed against him, one leg draped over his, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his bare chest (because yes, the formal shirt had been entirely ditched), you were either about to let him down easy or...
oh god.
âyou okay?â your soft voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts, your hand pausing its movements as you tilted your head to look up at him. he cleared his throat, his cheeks flushing. âuh, yeah. yeah, totally fine.â you squinted at him, your lips twitching like you were trying not to laugh. âyou sure? youâre looking a little... out of it.â well, there was no way out of this now. in all his dorkus glory, he blurted out the dreaded question:
âso, uh... what are we?â
the words hung in the air for a second, and geto wanted to melt into the mattress. but instead of laughing or teasing him, you smiled, your expression soft and fond. âwhat do you want us to be?â
âi mean...â he swallowed hard, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. âi said i loved you, so... maybe something serious?â you grinned, pressing a kiss to his chest. âgood. because iâm not letting you go after that performance, lover boy.â and just like that, geto decided he could die happy. even if mr. pickles never forgave him.
chapter 6: the class youâll never forget
geto woke up feeling like the main character in some rom-com where everything had finally fallen into place. the sun was shining directly on his face, his skin was clear, the tension that had been tying his muscles in knots for weeks was gone, and most importantly, there was you snuggled up next to him. your soft snores were music to his ears, and mr. pickles' contented purring from her nesting area completed the picture. everything was perfect. except for the yeowling.
it started faint, like the distant sound of a car alarm, and grew steadily louder. groaning, geto rubbed his face. âwhat the hell...?â he suddenly bolted upright, realization hitting him like a freight train. âoh no. oh no, no, no.â you groggily stirred beside him, blinking up at him in confusion. âwhatâs wrong?â
âgojo,â he groaned, flopping back against the pillows dramatically. âi left him alone in my apartment last night. he probably thinks iâm dead.â you blinked, then snorted. âthatâs dramatic, even for a cat.â
but geto wasnât joking. heâd seen gojo cat throw tantrums over him leaving for ten minutes to grab milk. this? this was abandonment on a grand scale in the eyes of the overly dramatic feline. as if on cue, the voice of your landlord, yaga, boomed from the other side of the door. âkeep that cat quiet, or iâm calling animal control!â you gasped indignantly, sitting up. âexcuse me! mr. pickles would neverââ
âitâs not mr. pickles!â geto groaned, already throwing on his pants. âitâs my overly theatricalââ
just as he was about to open the door to go upstairs, a loud thud echoed from the direction of your fire escape. the two of you froze.
âwhat was that?â you whispered.
geto peeked out the window, his jaw dropping. âoh my god. no.â
there, perched precariously on the fire escape outside your window, was gojo cat. his tail swished furiously, and he was glaring through the glass like he had just tracked his runaway owner down on sheer willpower alone.
âhe... jumped from my window to yours.â
âthatâs, like, one story up!â you exclaimed.
âi know!â
gojo cat let out another ear-piercing yeowwww! that sounded suspiciously like he was cursing geto out in feline language. âokay, okay , iâm coming!â geto sighed, sliding the window open to let the cat in. gojo cat pranced inside with all the dignity of someone who had just won an olympic gold medal, ignoring you entirely as he hopped onto getoâs torso and began aggressively kneading his shoulder. âiâm sorry, okay?â geto muttered. âi didnât mean to abandon you.â gojo cat meowed smugly, his forgiveness conditional.
âso... how mad would you be if i told you yaga still thinks this is mr. picklesâ fault?â you asked, biting your lip to hold back a laugh. geto groaned, flopping back onto the bed, gojo cat still perched on his chest. âthis is my life now. cat dad, tenant offender, and boyfriend to the worldâs most beautiful woman.â you grinned, kissing his cheek. âand donât you forget it.â
gojo cat, ever the drama queen, was about to make a grand display of his wrath, his tail swishing like an emperor preparing to deliver a royal decree. but then, he saw her.
mr. pickles. lounging in her nesting area, belly round with her impending litter, she cast him the most witheringly judgmental side-eye known to catkind. it wasnât even subtle. her disdain radiated like heat off asphalt, and for a moment, gojo catâs indignant rage faltered. but then, like the suave rogue he believed himself to be, he straightened up, puffed out his chest, and strutted toward her with a confidence that could only be described as delusional. it was all tail flicks and exaggerated steps, as though the very floor beneath him had the privilege of bearing his paws.
and thenâsmack. the grand feline tumbled, face planting into the ground with all the grace of a wet noodle.
you tried to stifle your laugh, but the sound still slipped out. geto choked back a snort, muttering, âthatâs my boy.â mr. pickles, however, did not laugh. no, the dignified queen merely let out a single approving chirp, a sound that might have translated to "pathetic, but amusing." gojo cat, undeterred by his embarrassing mishap, rose with renewed determination. and with the kind of courage that made you question if he had a screw loose, he approached mr. pickles once more, his intentions clear.
âno way,â you whispered.
âhe wouldnât,â geto added, equally mesmerized.
but he did. gojo cat, in what he undoubtedly believed was the ultimate gesture of love, began grooming mr. pickles. grooming her. and she let him.
for a moment, you thought she was going to swipe at him with all the fury of a hormonal mom-to-be. but no. she actually closed her eyes, her purring like a soft motor. it was... surreal.
âdid we just witness the biggest romance of the century?â you asked, genuinely baffled. âbigger than us?â geto teased, pulling you closer. âway bigger,â you deadpanned.
as you both watched the unlikely duo share their moment, you couldnât help but laugh. gojo cat was clearly putting his all into his attempt at love, and mr. pickles? well, she looked like she was actually enjoying it.
âah, love,â geto sighed dramatically, resting his chin on your head. âeven dumber than us,â you added, shaking your head in disbelief.
-
you were on cloud nine, feeling a level of peace and contentment that only came from having a hot law nerd boyfriend and a cat with enough sass to rival gojo cat himself. geto's bmw hummed quietly beneath you as the two of you cruised toward campus. it wasnât just the morning coffee kicking in; it was the knowledge that if this man dared to be lateâeven by two minutesâmr. pickles would end him. like, not even metaphorically. sheâd leap on him, claws out, and make him regret. because mr. pickles loved his hair. she loved kneading it, curling her paws into his long, luscious locks as if claiming her personal throne. and honestly? you got it. if you were a cat, youâd do the same. hell, even as a human, youâd do it (and did, regularly).
as he pulled into the parking lot, the goodbye routine began. âdonât forget to text me when your class ends,â he said, already pulling you into a warm hug. âdonât forget to pick me up, or weâre breaking up,â you countered sweetly, earning a laugh from him. âyouâre scary, you know that?â he teased, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. âand youâre my very gorgeous, very whipped boyfriend,â you shot back, leaning up for a kiss. he wouldnât dream of ghosting youânot when you were this beautiful, amazing, kind, and, obviously, a little unhinged. as he opened your door and helped you out like the true gentleman he was, he insisted on walking you all the way to the front entrance. his hand rested at the small of your back, a gesture that had you swooning even as you teased him.
âyou do know youâre going to be late, right?â
âworth it,â he replied with a grin, bending down to kiss your cheek. but just as you were about to part ways, a booming voice shattered the moment.
âGETO! LAW STUDENTS BUILDING! NOW!â
you both turned to see a very exasperated professor waving frantically at him from across the quad. you couldnât help but laugh as geto sighed, muttering under his breath about how âlove is a battlefield.â he gave you one last kiss, muttered a promise to pick you up later (or else), and jogged off. you watched him go, smiling like an idiot as you whispered, âah, love.â
the day started fine. better than fine, actuallyâyou left getoâs bmw with a kiss and the knowledge that your cat, mr. pickles, was safe and sound in her nesting area, glaring at gojo cat with the fury only a pregnant feline could muster. but halfway through your lecture on post-modern feminist theories (a riveting topic, truly), your phone buzzed. it wasnât a normal notification. no, it was the cctv feed suguru had installed as a âgiftâ to keep an eye on your âqueenâ (read: your absolute dictator cat). and there she wasâmr. picklesâkneading her nesting area with an urgency that sent a chill down your spine.
âoh. oh no. oh dear god.â you whispered, staring at the screen as she let out a war cry that could only mean one thing: grandmahood was happening. you shot up from your seat so fast your desk screeched against the floor. âis everything okay?â your professor asked, startled by your abrupt movement.
âuh, yeah! just â cat emergency! sheâs â uh â giving birth!â you stammered, already halfway out the door.
âcongratulations?â someone in the back called out, earning a round of laughter you had no time for.
you sprinted through campus like a woman possessed, your backpack bouncing behind you as you cursed yourself for not realizing mr. picklesâ morning mood wasnât jealousy but labor. and thenâbecause fate had to test youâgeto appeared, casually strolling toward the law building with his usual unbothered grace. âbabe?â he called out, watching you bolt past him like you were auditioning for the olympics. âno time to explain!â you yelled over your shoulder. he frowned, putting two and two together because, letâs face it, the manâs a genius. âis it mr. pickles?!â
âYES!â
and then he started running behind you.
âsuguru!â you wheezed, already out of breath. âGET YOUR CAR!â
âwhy?â he shouted, effortlessly keeping pace with you.
âbecause weâre running across a campus thatâs like thousand acres and I WILL DIE!â
he paused, muttering something about how you were so dramatic, before pivoting on his heel and sprinting toward the parking lot.
you barely made it to the main road before suguruâs bmw skidded to a stop beside you.
âget in!â he barked, throwing the passenger door open.
âi swear to god, if she starts delivering while weâre stuck in traffic ââ
âsheâs not gonna start without you,â he said, rolling his eyes.
âcats donât work like that, suguru!â
âwell, neither do women, but here we are,â he shot back, pulling into the driveway of your building.
you bolted out of the car, taking the stairs two at a time while suguru trailed behind with all the urgency of a man who knows heâll be the one cleaning up whatever mess awaited. when you burst into the apartment, mr. pickles was mid-contraction, glaring at you like, finally, my useless human has arrived. gojo cat, meanwhile, looked terrified, hovering at a safe distance as if he was considering calling 911. âokay, okay, weâre here!â you panted, dropping to your knees beside mr. pickles. suguru followed, looking at the scene with wide eyes. âdo...do we call a vet?â
âno! sheâs got this. we just have to support her!â
âsupport her how?â
âi donât know! emotional support?â
âsheâs a cat!â
mr. pickles let out a low growl, silencing suguruâs protests. âokay, okay, iâll shut up,â he muttered, backing away slightly. the door creaked open, and there stood shoko, still in her scrubs and sporting the exhausted yet curious expression of someone returning from a night shift only to walk straight into chaos. âwhatâs going on here?â she asked, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. you barely spared her a glance as you clutched suguruâs arm. âmr. pickles is in labor. itâs a whole thing. prayers are appreciated.â
âprayers?â she scoffed, stepping closer. âiâm a doctor. i got this.â
relief washed over you. âthank god, shoko! we could use an actual professional!â
but the moment she peeked over the edge of mr. picklesâ nesting area and caught sight of a tiny kitten halfway out, her calm demeanor shattered.
âOH MY GOD, WHAT IS THAT?!â
âwhat do you think it is?â suguru deadpanned, visibly unimpressed. âi donât know! i didnât sign up for this!â shoko shrieked, stumbling backward and holding her hands up as if warding off an unholy demon.
you blinked at her, utterly dumbfounded. âarenât you a doctor?â
âa human doctor! this is nature gone rogue! â
mr. pickles, clearly unamused by shokoâs dramatics, let out a low, guttural growl that sent the so-called professional scurrying back to the doorway. âyouâre on your own,â shoko muttered, lighting a cigarette like the events unfolding in your living room werenât directly her problem. meanwhile, gojo cat, always the overachiever, decided he needed to help. unfortunately, his idea of help involved attempting to paw at the nearest kitten. âdonât even think about it!â suguru warned, his voice laced with exasperation.
but it was too lateâmr. pickles, mid-contraction, turned her fiery gaze on gojo cat, who froze like a deer in headlights. one wrong flick of his tail, and mr. pickles let out a feral hiss that could have sent shoko back to med school. gojo cat, realizing he had crossed the line, slinked back to the corner, tail tucked between his legs, his usual swagger replaced with what could only be described as embarrassed defeat. âwell, thatâs one way to keep him in line,â you muttered.
âthis is insane,â shoko said, still watching from the doorway. âhow do you people live like this?â
âwe manage,â suguru replied, his tone completely void of humor as he massaged his temples.
the next hour was a whirlwind of cat screams, your whispered words of encouragement, and suguru pacing like an expectant father in a sitcom. âshould we name one after me?â he asked at one point, earning a glare from both you and mr. pickles as she finally let out one final push, and another tiny kitten entered the world. you let out a relieved sigh, and suguru finally cracked a smile. he was crouched beside you, holding your hand as if you were the one giving birth. âyou did amazing,â he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple.
âshe did amazing,â you corrected, motioning to mr. pickles.
âteam effort,â he replied with a grin.
and as mr. pickles began cleaning her newest babies, shoko muttered from the door, âyouâre all insane. call me when itâs over.â
âyouâre the godmother, shoko!â you called after her, earning a muffled string of curses as she disappeared down the hall.
âweâre gonna need so much cat food,â he muttered, pulling you close.
ah, the miracle of life.
-
a few weeks had passed since d-dayâdelivery day, or as suguru had renamed it, âdomestic chaos day.â the kittens were growing faster than you thought possible, transforming your once peaceful apartment into a battlefield. mr. pickles ruled the roost with an iron paw, while gojo catâs ego took a daily beating as the kittens bested him at every turn. every time one managed to leap higher, run faster, or swipe his tail just right, his tail would puff up in indignation like a furry balloon. youâd managed to rehome a few of the kittens, starting with shoko.
her kittenâaffectionately dubbed âroachâ for her uncanny ability to survive despite zero effortâwas the perfect match. low-maintenance, unfazed, and perpetually napping. shoko had initially protested, but now youâd catch her sending you pictures of roach curled up in her sink or casually perched on her liquor cabinet.
then there was yuuji. poor, sweet, persistent yuuji. heâd campaigned harder for a kitten than some politicians do for office. the boy went through hoops â begging you, suguru, choso, sukuna, and even mr. pickles. you werenât sure how heâd pulled it off, but eventually, he was deemed worthy of a black-and-white troublemaker he promptly named âgumi.â the kitten adored yuuji and spent most of his time riding on his shoulders like a parrot, though you suspected yuuji let him get away with far too much.
sukuna, on the other hand, had reluctantly taken the runt of the litter after it refused to leave him alone. âdonât need some damn cat,â heâd grumbled the entire way home. now? the tiny kitten followed him everywhere, even sneaking into his apron pockets after he came back from work. he pretended to hate it, but the soft grumbles about âstupid runtâ were always followed by careful, protective pats on the kittenâs tiny head.
but the biggest surprise of all came when suguru decided to make your relationship publicâon linkedin. linkedin, of all places.
it had started as a joke. youâd teased him about not âproperly asking you outâ after all this time, and before you knew it, heâd crafted a three-paragraph-long post about you. âin a comitted relationship with the love of my life, and no, this isnât a humble brag â itâs a masterpiece,â heâd typed with the fervor of a man defending his dissertation. the post included references to romantic literature, quotes from classic movies, and, somehow, a detailed analysis of how mr. pickles and gojo cat played pivotal roles in your story.
youâd wanted to die of second-hand embarrassment, but the post blew up. colleagues, professors, and even strangers commented, congratulating the two of you. âyouâre insane,â youâd told him, hiding your face in his chest as he laughed. âinsane about you,â he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
life wasnât perfect â it was loud, chaotic, and occasionally overwhelming. but with mr. pickles, gojo cat, and your ridiculous yet lovable boyfriend, it was better than you ever imagined.
feline parenthood? best decision ever.
#works â
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Hello!. Keep up with the good posts, i really love them. đđ
How about a Ran x gf reader
Maybe her messing around with his baton while he isn't looking and accidentally hitting herself while pretending to beat up people. How is she going to explain to him what happened while he was out for a bit and sees the bruise on her forehead?. And her taking a long time to confess since she feels embarrassed for playing with it in the first place.
Enjoy!!
"I'll be heading out, darling," Ran reached to kidd your forehead from where he stood behind the couch. You nodded with a smile, "Call me if you need anything, okay, babe."
"I will babe! Take care Ran."
Usually you'd stay away from his 'work office' because you just don't want to mess around his things and make his work harder than it already is however today you were bored and nothing on you phone or the TV was entertaining so you decided to take a peek in his office maybe something fun there?
You know what he does for work, and he doesn't hide anything from you at all. Slowly opening the doors to his office, you entered, and a bunch of files were placed on the table alongside his laptop. You huffed as you walked around and noticed his signature weapon, his baton. A grin flashed on your lips as you grabbed the shiny baton; it was heavy, and you were surprised how Ran carried it around, swinging it like it's nothing more than a feather. You tried to swing it around, and it made you feel like you were powerful, running to grab one of Ran's blazer. you put it on and pretended to be him. Walking in the room as you swang the baton from side to side, pretending that question someone, "So tell me, Mr. Evil man, where is the money? I know you know about it," you pointed the baton to the empty spot in front of you and chuckled shaking your hair, "No no you don't fool me, you-" you were trying to place the baton on your shoulder but it hit you right on the face; on your forehead and left eye. "Son of a bitch!" You yelped in pain dropping the baton on the floor as you held your eye, "ouch! Ahhh, that hurt," you cried stamping your feet on the floor.
Making your way downstairs to the kitchen you grabbed the ice pack placing it on your eye and forehead as tears rolled down your face; you really had no one to blame, this is exactly why you don't mess around with things because of how clumsy you are. Falling on the couch, you sighed as your phone rang. It was Ran, "Hello, my princess, just calling to tell you that I might get home super late, okay darling?" You hummed in response, "everything alright, my princess?" You hummed again, "Yes love everything is fine, I love you." You heard him chuckle, "I love you more, princess."
A few hours later, the pain was slowing down, and you were finally able to breathe a little bit of relief. You went to the bathroom to wash your face for the day and the yelp you let out when you saw your reflection in the mirror was horrifying; your eyes was bruised and so was your forehead, a small bump had formed on your forehead turning all shades of grean and purple while your eyes looked like you've been punched. You groaned as you used all the ice in the freezer to make the bruises heal, but it was no good. You knew Ran would probably laugh at you if he saw you. You were in the kitchen when you heard the front door open and shut, "shit!" You whispered before running to the bathroom. "Baby? I'm home!" You heard Ran's voice echo in, and you hissed at the sight of your in the bathroom mirror and heard his footsteps, "princess? Are you in the bathroom?" He knocked the door, and you cursed quietly, "Ah, yes, Ran. I'll be out soon. You said you'll be late?" You opened your hair, dropping your bangs as much as you could hide the bump and the bruise. "Yeah, Rindou took over the rest of the work, I brought dinner come out so we can eat, baby. I wanna kiss my princess, I missed you so much, Baby?"
"Yeah, let me just wash my hands," you replied, making sure your face was hidden before you left the bathroom. You faked a yawn as you left the bathroom and Ran met you in the hallway reaching for a hug and you Usually wait for his kiss on you forehead but today you just hugged his quickly and dodged his kiss and let go of his hug the moment you hugged him, "did you just dodge my kiss, princess?" He followed after you grabbing your hand, pulling you to him, but you won't look at him. His brows frowned when he noticed you were hiding your face from him. Which immediately sent a warning in his mind, "Hey, Sweetie? What's wrong? Did I do something? You're not looking at me." You tried to move your face every time he tried to look at it from any side, "what? No? Let's go ea-"
"Hey, baby." He grabbed your hand and pulled you to his chest before carefully placing his hands on your cheeks, and you hissed, "What baby! You are scaring me wh-AHH WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR EYE! OH MY, BABY! WHO HURT YOU?" He was panicking at the sight of your face, bruised, his eyes scanning your eye and forehead, "WHO DID THIS? WHAT HAPPENED?" His immediate response was to softly kiss your face where it wasn't hurt. He thought someone had hurt you, and he wasn't there to protect you. As you watched him placing kisses on your face asking you about who hurt you and you could feel his heart beating fast since you had your hands on his chest. "No one, Ran, honey. No one hurt me. Please calm down, your hearts beating so fast." You placed your head on his chest. He placed his hand on the side of your head, "Then what happened? Your face is all bruised!" You chuckled awkwardly as you pulled away, rubbing the back of your head you spoke feeling embarrassed, "well, I kinda got carried away playing with your baton and well, i kinda slapped myself with it, ACCIDENTALLY! I'm sorry I shouldn't be playing around with your weap-"
"You almost gave me a heart attack, my princess. Does it still hurt? That damn baton I'm gonna throw it away, how reckless of me to leave it around like that, fuck I'm such an idiot." He groaned and you took his hands in yours making his look at you. "Baby, it's my fault not yours, don't call yourself idiot. I'm the one who went snooping in your office, I'm so sorry, are you mad?" He sighed carefully cupping your face and leaning to your level, "I'm not mad my princess. I'm so freaking worried, are you in pain? Come on I'll take you to the hospital." He grabbed your hand and you followed behind, "I'll be fine. Few more ice packs and i-"
"No, princess, what if you got a concussion or internal bleeding? I'm making sure you're safe and sound or I'll die of worry." You chuckled at how worried he was getting, and yet here you thought he'll laugh at you for getting a bump with the baton.
#ran tokyo revengers#ran haitani x you#ran haitani x reader#ran haitani#ran headcanons#ran haitani x y/n
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I just had a thought- Spicynoodles in the MKEgged AU would probably want to wait for a bit before giving Haoyu a bio sibling, both because of the initial fear that his pregnancy gave them and because Xiaotian's body needs time to heal because Stone Monkeys aren't really built for multiple pregnancies.
But that doesn't mean they can't adopt!
Now I'm imagining my idea ages ago of Spicynoodles kiddos, but a few are adopted. I did conceptualize them before I thought of Stone Eggs
First set of babus were; Xuancao & Yingsu [#1 & #2], Zishan, Shuixian & Chuju [#3, #4 & #5]. Origin Post.
Then came "Iron Fan drawn from memory" Tiemian [#6]. Origin Post.
Then "You sure Tang didn't just mitosis?" Yinghuo [#7]. Origin post.
And then the "Rambutan babies" Muxi & Mudan [#8 & #9]. Origin Post.
+some unspecified future triplets, and the occasional inclusion of bud's @nem0lux3 oc Hua Jiao!
I can now imagine with Haoyu's creation being unusual + his birth not ideal - MK and Red Son would be more open to adoption than creating a fresh Egg.
MK is hanging out with Nezha - tagging along for the Lotus Prince's regular god-duties of blessing newborns and kids on their birthdays; only for them to encounter an abandoned baby.
Haoyu has been asking for a baby sibling so...
(*MK approaches his and Red's shared home in the city, nervously holding the tiny stray baby in a sling. The baby has reddish-auburn hair, and dark skin that reminds him of his spouse - little vitiligo-like stripes mark her skin. MK breathes deep to psyche himself up before entering.*) MK, walking in: "Heyyy Red, don't be mad, buuuut when I was out with Nezha we-" (*MK stops suddenly at the sight in the living room. Red Son looks a mix of flustered, horrified and hopeful, as he rocks a baby demon in a car seat.*) Red Son & MK: "..." MK: "How about you go first?" Red Son: "Thank you. I was visiting my father's parents in Youdu, and when I brought up the possibility of us adopting a child, they mentioned that the Underworld has a pretty large population of unclaimed young souls so..." (*Red Son guestures to the baby in the car seat; it's a little girl with dark brown hair and skin tone similar to MK. Seems to be mixed human-feline demon.*) MK, realising: "Aw! You thought she looked like me and couldn't even wait to ask?" Red Son, adoring: "Yes! I met with KáčŁitigarbha, and they brought me to the banks of the River by Naihe Bridge, and this little angel just... floated to the shore." (*Red Son gently kisses the baby's head*) Red Son: "They said that it's how little ones... enter the Underworld before they have the chance to be blessed. Their souls come to shore when they find someone to claim them." MK, leaning down to meet the baby: "Ohhh, a little floater baby. Hi!" Baby #1: (*barely old enough to smile. makes curious burbling sounds at MK and the other baby in his arms. Her hands have tiny claws, betraying her mixed demon heritage.*) Red Son, fixing on MK's baby: "What's the story with your little one?" MK: "Well now my story seems boring by comparison! Nezha has been helping train my astral projection powers, and he asked me to come along with him in spirit while he did his baby blessings. All was okay - I saw a lot of 100 day parties. But then Nezha got this look on his face, and we like swooped down to this riverbank where-" Baby in MK's arms: (*angry kitten-like sound*) MK, soothing her: "Yeah, baby, I'm telling them... She was all alone and... they tied her up in a bag. A bag, Red!" (*becoming distressed*) "Nezha was only able to sense her cus she just turned a month old and didn't have her Man Yue blessing. If we hadn't found her then-" Red Son, calming him: "Do not think about the buts, sunflower. She's with us now." MK, tear of relief: "Heh. Butts." Red Son, small laugh: "Puerile as ever... have you taken her to a doctor?" MK: "Even better! Your other grandma saw us after me and Nezha had her checked out by Chen Jiggu - you know the paediatric goddess? When I mentioned Haoyu wanted a sibling well... you know Xiwangmu." Red Son: "She shriek-roared, burst into tears, and started hugging you and the baby?" MK: "Yup. I could barely get a word out. She's already started calling her sĆ«nnÇ and demands we organise a proper Man Yue party for her." Red Son: "I hope she feels the same for the stray I acquired."
After tending to both babies, the pair notice that they have eerily similar features to one another... as if they were twins or close relatives. They try not to dwell too much on the possible reasons.
Within a few hours, news of babies Xuancao (named for a flower of remembrance; Poppy) & Yingsu (their little Tiger-Lily who's stripes have only just developed) gets out.
Haoyu arrives home after spending the day with Granddadsy and Gonggong Tang to see a pair of baby sisters in his old crib. He's overjoyed and accidentally wakes them in his delighted hooting (much to MK and Red's dismay).
Pigsy and Tang had been there to drop Haoyu off, and they quickly recognise the little cries that followed the hooting. The poor pig man nearly has a heart attack XD
Pigsy, pointing at the baby girls: "Since when!?" MK, holding one twin: "Haha - would you believe less than a few hours ago?" Tang, joking: "Wow. You two worked fast." Red Son, holding the other twin: "They were not made in that manner!" Pigsy & Tang: "Huh?" Haoyu, excitedly: "Oh! I know! LÇolao says babies float on the Underworld's river, and they get out when they meet their parents!" Tang: "Well, it's not exactly-" Red Son: "He's actually right in this case." Tang: "EH!?" MK, gesturing to the respective twin: "Underworld freebie. Above-world freebie!" Haoyu, smiling smugly: "Told you, Gonggong!!" Pigsy & Tang: (*both thinking hard*) Pigsy, shrugging: "Eh. I literally picked MK off the street. Finding one or two on the river ain't that odd. Now - let me meet my granddaughters." Both Babies: (*excitedly reach out tiny hands to inspect their grandadsy's face*)
MK and Red Son's phones are quickly blowing up with calls and messages asking "WTF!? Since when you two were pregnant?!" Wukong in particular calls worried out of his mind, asking if MK is ok and getting medical attention. Seems that a wire got crossed with Xiwangmu bragging about her new grandcub to who anyone who'd listen. XD
The bull grandparents, all three great-grandparents, and the extended Monkie Kids gang, happily accept the twin girls into their lives once the Spicynoodles couple finally manages to explain what happened.
Macaque: "You ordered one and got two. A great deal, in my opinion." MK, teasingly: "You're just saying that cus you managed to have twins too." Wukong, holding Rumble & Savage: "It's a fantastic deal either way!"
DBK and PIF in particular are overjoyed. They understand that a biological grandcalf is a huge risk to ask of the couple - so they happily accept the baby girls as if they were blood related anyway. PIF can finally spoil her girls with all the little dresses and accessories they could ever want. And DBK has a pair of tiny girls who have him wrapped around their little clawed fingers.
Any future spicynoodles babies likely have similar origin stories. At least one is a biologically-conceived child, though it's hard to tell when're all together and acting like they've always been together.
The whole family will fight whoever claims they aren't "real" children to them.
#MKEgged au#pregnancy mention tw#lmk fan children#lmk mk#qi xiaotian#lmk red son#spicynoodles being parents#spicynoodles#spicynoodleshipping#lmk dadsy#lmk pigsy#lmk papa tang#lmk tang#lmk nezha#lmk demon bull family#lmk aus#lmk#lego monkie kid
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season 7 dash simulator
edlundite
so do we think these latest winchester murder sprees are gonna be in the next books or nah
dickromananti
My Taylor Double Theory
disclaimer: first of all i want to be clear. i would never call for violence against someone, and do not want anyone to act on this information. I also do not believe in stereotyping and I am not trying to "put down" famous women.
gaylors dni!
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biggersons-official
kids these days are all just turslucking and turfucking. whatever happened to turducken you used to love turducken
couldtransitionsaveher
catgirlkeyboard
richard roman enterprises slack simulator
coworker one: whoever is getting rid of my bottles of borax is so fucking annoying i literally need to clean things
coworker two: did anyone see the turducken is back in the cafeteria again
coworker three: who all stoned on that job
coworker four: last night we got a shipment of an animal bone. who locked up the warehouse after we need to have a conversation. this is important please reach out immediately
coworker five: Hi guys! This weekend is my bi-annual LARPing festival. The set up in the park is really awesome and if you want to check it out feel free to ask for the Queen of Moondoor! :DDDD
tiktaalic
peach simulator Mutual 1: why tf are borox stocks plummetingâŠâŠ.. Sorry for job posting again but ive been looking at these numbers for 30 minutes
Mutual 2: Anybodyy been keeping up with the taylor swift double (dswift) theoury. Ithink it might hold a lot of weight to be honest
Mutual 2: Like ive watched a lot of theory videos and i dont believe sheâs weird because sheâs gay and I dont believe sheâs weird because sheâs autistic I think sheâs weird because she got replaced by a double whodoesnt know how to be human
Mutual 3: the other day when i was processing my mice spleens i read the shipping label and it literally goes to roman enterprises? lol what?
Mutual 4: people complaining about my chemical romance selling out. acting different. um i think i know more about gerard ways sleep habits than you do genius.
Mutual 5: was at knitting night when literally half the group brought up turduckens again? not to have food aversion but what are we talking about
Mutual 6: I love to hear my american friends talk. Turducken. Ford. Dick Roman. You are living in a hollywood movie. thank god you unserious country nothing better than cultural exchange
Mutual 6: Though to be clear Merlin has had a much more impactful effect on the Australian psyche than any of this politics you people have on the news.
Mutual 7: did anybody want to watch that the horrifying documentary about yellow cedar trees going extinct because of the emissions from the poultry farms
Mutual 8 : i love our beautiful world :)
reginamillsofficial I think the worst part of the true crime fandom is the ppl who want to fuck Sam winchester. The sideburns alone
Biggersons-official Everyone come in to try our new Turduckenâąïž today! Itâs a real hoot! Only a .03 percent chance of hyperadrenal cannibalism!
pizza biggersons-official coming for Dennyâs crown omg
glowcloudstyle AND NOW THE WEATHER
#wtnv #i ship it #dennys x biggersons
biggersmons when you get paid biweekly. Week one. Turducken. Week two. Ice soup
calamitysong Biggersons again Biggersons again Biggersons again
eduardosaverin7 Eat a vegetable!
calamitysong I keep forgetting :(
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So I watched Ride the Cyclone over the weekend, and OOOOUUUUUUGGGGGHHHH I gotta yap about these characters. (spoiler alerts for people who haven't seen it)
I'll start with Ocean. I feel like almost everyone either knew someone like Ocean or was Ocean. She comes off as overly ambitious, goal oriented, and selfish. And she IS. She starts out as someone you're meant to hate. I mean, she literally sings a song about how she's better than everyone else in the group, even standing on top of them in a human pyramid to show her superiority. But I loved Ocean in the end. Yes, she pressured the others (especially Constance) to vote for her because she wanted to be brought back to life, but she ended up sacrificing a second chance of life in the end. Because Karnak changed the rules, she won the game. Ocean could've easily taken her chance at life, but she realized that she had something she wanted to go back to. They all did except for Jane Doe. As badly as she wanted to live, death taught her to be happy with what she had in the end. She would rather something over nothing.
Noel is an ICON. He's a romantic. In his fantasy, he's a French prostitute in the post-war era. Monique is a tortured woman. She is slapped, thrown to the ground, and her heart is played with until she ends up playing with hearts hearts herself. Noel romanticizes this life. It's shown that he's always had a flair for the dramatic, but Monique is a direct manifestation of Noel's tortured heart. I also LIVE for his friendship with Mischa. Noel could never really fit in, and I don't think he ever wanted to. He mentioned how his mother always wanted him to be more like the other kids, but he's too passionate for that and he knows it.
Mischa is another very interesting character, and not because he's from Ukraine. His adopted parents literally locked him in the basement and only provided basic necessities. It's also clear that he wanted to go back to his home in Ukraine. He understands why his mother had to send him away, but that doesn't mean he didn't miss his home. His desire to go back only got stronger when he was dating Talia long-distance. We only get glimpses into the character's lives, but Talia was Mischa's light. She was the love of his life. Mischa is a genuinely kind person despite his gangster persona, and though he misses Talia, singing her name over and over, is willing to not vote for himself.
Now THE swinging space age bachelor man, Ricky. I think death was the best thing for him. In death, he can speak. He can walk without crutches. All of the effects of his disease are reversed. I only say it's the best thing for him because he most likely thinks the same thing. After his song he takes his name out of consideration for voting. Part of that is because he can't vote for himself and believes that the others are more deserving of a second chance, but he also enjoys the freedom that death gave him. I love you Ricky Potts.
Jane Doe is the most mysterious character of the play and also my personal favorite. She has a lot of funny moments, but everything about her has an undertone of sadness. The others avoid her in the beginning. They don't really view her as a person (Ocean literally refers to her as a super freaky monster). She's a walking existential crisis. She has no memory of her life. Everything about her was gone once she lost her head. To me, the doll head she wears is a representation of what she's longing for. She wants a face of her own. She wants her identity. Until her song, the others avoid her because she's a reminder of what they could have lost in addition to their lives, plus she's creepy (having no head literally took away her balance, so her movements add to the horrifying nature of her character). After her song, the others realize just how much she lost. She knows how she died, but not who she was. The New Birthday Song is one of my favorite scenes in the show. It shows the others reaching out to her. They're trying to console her. Even Ricky lets her have the name Savanah (with the greenest eyes). We find out she's Penny Lamb in the end, but her name is really all we directly learn about her.
Constance is also a deep character. On the outside, she's the nice girl. She loves her friends, family, and has pride in her town. This stuff is true. But she also has a passionate side. She wants a lover and wanted to lose her virginity, which she ended up losing to a carnie. She tried to blend in, hiding her love and the things she was passionate about. She was made to feel ashamed for so much in her life. She was so self-conscious in life, to a point where a lot of viewers could find it relatable. It took death for her to accept that she loved her life, that she loved her family and her town. She misses all of the small things, but she's glad she had them in the first place.
Anyways this is what my brain is fixating on right now.
#ride the cyclone#rtc#ocean oconnell rosenberg#noel gruber#mischa bachinski#ricky potts#jane doe#constance blackwood#karnak rtc#i have SO many problems#this is starting to take over my life
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hey, itâs buni (if you know who i am, you know who i am. i know neo does lol) (please donât tag me if you know who i am. i donât want to be defined by my past)
i have been a melanie martinez fan like⊠all my life, and i especially latched on to her music after i was sexually assaulted for the first time. i was around 7 or 8. it was by my cousin who decided it would be fun to grope and kiss me. at first i said okay, because he just asked me to go around the corner with him, then he kissed and groped me. i had no idea how to feel. thatâs all i remember. i donât remember the day, i donât even remember my exact age.
with sexual assault, you should always believe the victim at first. but then you need to look at the perpetrator and talk to them, or look at their actions. this cousin, who i saw recently last year, was very touchy with me again, dispute me being double the age i was when the assault happened. (i am now 16)
i asked him to stop this time, and he got upset and proceeded to play basketball with our other cousins. it was horrifying to me to know that i went through that with him. i havenât brought this up since it happened. itâs been over 8 years.
now if youâre wondering why i bring this up, itâs because of the situation with timothy. i do think she is lying. and if she isnât, sheâs exaggerating the events drastically.
let me say, itâs so hard to prove sexual assault or rape in court. i have tried to go through the process, but even a few weeks later was too late. you need to have samples of the other persons dna, video or photographic evidence or something else.
but, with how she keeps telling the story over and over â not to friends, but to a wide audience of people who really donât even know her â tells me sheâs probably lying. she brings it up again when melanie is blowing up, selling a lot of product. she hasnât directly interacted with her in 7 years, and only now itâs important again?
i get it if she came in contact with melanie, saw her as an opener, or something similar â but nothing like that never happened. she has said âi have been isolating myselfâ
i saw my perpetrator in person, i was mere inches away from him, and i didnât shout from the rooftops âhe groped me 8 years ago!â but timothy is, mostly likely, MILES AND MILES away from melanie and SHES shouting from the rooftops.
yes, sexual assault is something that effects you for the rest of your life.
i try to bring it up with trump, who admitted he raped a woman, who was convicted. the woman who brought it up â i believe her. because she has been trying to get it in court for YEARS.
timothy hasnât done anything but post. and then, again, why would she dress up as her rapist the year after?
i, now, have an issue with dating people who look like my perpetrator. i could never dress up as them.
melanie has said â {she} never said no to what we chose to do together.â which indicated something DID happen between them, but not to the extent that timothy is claiming. melanie never said anything like âoh this bitch is lying about everything. iâm gonna keep bringing it up over and overâ and she isnât doing the opposite either, completely ignoring it. she responded and said basically said something did happen between them.
i donât think melanie is in the wrong. and itâs not just because i like her music, itâs because i, as another human, have been raped, sexually assaulted and abused MULTIPLE times in my life. it isnât fun. it doesnât go away, but it isnât something you bring up every time the person gets popular.
thatâs all i have to say. do i think either parties are fully innocent? no. do i think they both need to take accountability? yes, but i think melanie took hers. timothy needs to stop talking about it and take time herself to heal. like seriously, heal.
healing isnât bringing up the topic over and over, itâs learning from it, learning to move on â like grief. accept it, and understand you may not have everything exactly correct.
thatâs all i have to say :/
seriously, guys, we need to stop letting timothy bring this up to get her fame.
Wow thank you so much for sharing this Buni đ„ș
I completely agree with you and support you all the way đ€
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Guitarspear Rec List
A Guitarspear fic rec list for @qdkdraws ! I was just going to send them via ask, but I figured I might as well post them so others can enjoy as well. It is short because I am picky and the only category that I am judging by is if it brought me joy. And characterization, I guess, because I'm a stickler about that.
Onward!
Profane by Anonymous
After ending up in hell, Adam finds himself tangled up with the wrong crowd. Bad decisions is the word of the day. Note: This fic deals with heavy subject matter takes a while for the Guitarspear to happen, but it is so worth reading to that point. This series is my favorite thing in the Hazbin fandom. The third fic is actively ongoing!
In Which Hell Is Too Damn Long by Udbsken
If sinners can wake up in Heaven after they die, logic follows⊠Adam opens his eyes in Hell Note: This one is not explicitly Guitarspear and Lute does not actually show up, but Adam does a lot of pining.
Sinner's Rut by MagnusThree
Lute is approached by Lucifer of all people with a proposition that she would have never expected to hear. But all she cares about is the prospect that Adam is alive, and whatever the state he is in, she is determined to be at his side once again. Note: This one is smut! It is going on the list anyway because it's smut with plot and the angst and fluff changed my brain chemisty.
The Missing Link by Vincent_Levinsk
ĐĐŸ ĐČŃĐ”ĐŒŃ ĐžŃŃŃĐ”Đ±Đ»Đ”ĐœĐžŃ ĐŃŃ, ĐșĐŸĐŒĐ°ĐœĐŽŃŃŃĐ°Ń Đ°ŃĐŒĐžĐ”Đč ŃĐșĐ·ĐŸŃŃĐžŃŃĐŸĐČ, ŃŃпДла Đ·Đ°ĐșŃŃŃŃ ĐĐŽĐ°ĐŒĐ° ŃĐŸĐ±ĐŸĐč Đž, ĐžŃŃĐ”ĐșĐ°Ń Đ·ĐŸĐ»ĐŸŃĐŸĐč ĐșŃĐŸĐČŃŃ, пала ĐČ Đ±ĐŸŃ. ĐąĐ”Đ»ĐŸ Đ”Ń Đ±ŃĐ»ĐŸ ĐżĐŸŃĐ”ŃŃĐœĐŸ ĐżĐŸĐŽ Đ·Đ°ĐČĐ°Đ»Đ°ĐŒĐž ĐŽŃŃгОŃ
ŃŃŃĐżĐŸĐČ ŃĐșĐ·ĐŸŃŃĐžŃŃĐŸĐČ Đž ĐłŃĐ”ŃĐœĐžĐșĐŸĐČ, ĐżĐŸŃŃĐŸĐŒŃ ĐżĐŸŃлД Đ±ĐŸŃ ĐșĐ°ĐœĐœĐžĐ±Đ°Đ»Ń ĐœĐžĐșĐ°Đș ĐœĐ” ĐŸĐ¶ĐžĐŽĐ°Đ»Đž ĐœĐ°ŃĐșĐœŃŃŃŃŃ ĐœĐ° ĐșĐŸĐłĐŸ-ŃĐŸ жОĐČĐŸĐłĐŸ ŃŃДЎО ĐłĐŸŃ ĐžŃ
ĐșŃĐŸĐČĐ°ĐČĐŸĐłĐŸ пОŃŃĐ”ŃŃĐČĐ°. ĐĐŸŃĐ”ŃŃĐČŃĐ°Ń ŃĐČĐŸĐč ŃĐČŃŃĐŸĐč ĐŸĐ±Đ»ĐžĐș, ĐœĐŸ ŃĐŸŃ
ŃĐ°ĐœĐžĐČŃĐ°Ń ĐČĐŸŃĐżĐŸĐŒĐžĐœĐ°ĐœĐžŃ ĐŃŃ, ĐżĐŸŃ
ĐŸĐ¶Đ°Ń ĐŸŃĐœŃĐœĐ” ĐœĐ° Đ·ĐČĐ”ŃŃ, ĐŸŃŃалаŃŃ ĐČ ĐĐŽŃ ŃĐŸĐČĐ”ŃŃĐ”ĐœĐœĐŸ ĐŸĐŽĐœĐ°, Đž Đ”ĐŽĐžĐœŃŃĐČĐ”ĐœĐœĐ°Ń Đ”Ń ŃĐ”Đ»Ń â ĐČĐŸ ŃŃĐŸ Đ±Ń ŃĐŸ ĐœĐž ŃŃĐ°Đ»ĐŸ ĐČĐ”ŃĐœŃŃŃŃŃ ĐČ Đ Đ°Đč. Note: Yes, this one is in Russian. I enjoyed it enough that it's going on the list anyway. The basic plot is that Lute dies and becomes a demon instead of Adam. It is feelsy and hilarious, run it through a translator and be bountifully rewarded!
Twinkle, little star by Cracked_Empire
Hell is forever. This immutable truth was imprinted with pain in Adam's heart. If that heart even existed. But it did, for Adam could feel it stop. And then he opened his eyes and found himself more miserable than ever. Lute finds Adam in Hell. She is given a special assignment to find Anomaly in Hell. She goes down to Hell for Anomaly (she goes down for Adam, even though he now has real horns).
Adam -- First Man, Next to Fall by MagnusThree
The attack on the hotel had been a disaster, especially for the army of Heaven. Their leader, killed; their soldiers, butchered; their weakness, revealed. Lute and those remaining exorcists that had survived the massacre have only just made it home, but she isn't ready to let it go. Not when there's still someone's head to cleave from their body, and while Adam's blood was still fresh on bedrock. Maybe a little too fresh for someone that is supposed to be dead.
Aaaaand I'm going to do some self-promo and include my own fics, because writing them brought me joy and there's nothing to stop me from doing so.
Hypocrisy and Other Sinful Things
âWait!â the thing cried in that familiar voice. âLute, fuckingâ Wait! Itâs me!â Lute froze, the tip of her spear pressing lightly against the skin of the sinnerâs throat. It stared up at her with wide, horrified, hopeful yellow eyes. Now that she actually looked, she couldnât deny that she would have known them in any lifetime. The shape of his face was the same. The hair was the same. The voice was the same. Butâ The creature before her had one more eye than it should have. It had horns growing out of its head â the same shape that the ones on his helmet had been, but real in a way that no angelâs were. Knives grew from the tips of its fingers, impossible to be covered even by the gloves it wore. The thing in front of her was undoubtedly a demon. Adam had been an angel. Adam was dead. - Or; Lute goes to hell during the next extermination seeking revenge. Instead, she gets the crisis of a lifetime.
The Great Overlord Pissing Contest
In which Adam ends up in hell and makes his psychological breakdown everyone's problem. Note: No Guitarspear yet beyond a whole lot of Adam pining, but things will heat up in the next fic.
Salvation on the Radio
âWhat the hell, Alastor! Why would you bring him here?â Vaggie shouts. Alastor tilts his head to the side innocently. One ear twitches, but his smile never wavers. âWhy, our little meeting last week! Charlie did say that the hotel needs new guests, didnât she?â âGuests, not evil bastards who destroyed the hotel!â âBut Adam here is seeking redemption! We do not discriminate between souls in need, do we?â - Or; Alastor drags Adam to Charlie's doorstep like a cat that hasn't killed its prey yet. Things happen from there. Note: Again, Lute doesn't actually show up for a while. So far it's a whole lot of Alastor inflicting The Torments upon Adam and Charlie having PTSD. But we will get to the actual Guitarspear content! ~ Eventually! ~
Vile and Blasphemous
When Lute finds out that Adam is alive as a sinner and under the effects of an unknown curse, she goes to hell to find him. There, she is helped by an amnesiac sinner named Eve. The two hardly get along, but Lute will take whatever help she can get. Yet she can't quite shake the feeling that something is off⊠Note: Because it's not supposed to be a secret and you can't see tags on tumblr, I'll just say it here. Eve is actually Adam. Lute has unknowingly recruited Adam to help her find Adam and gets to have a gay crisis whilst on her remarkably circular journey. I am having. So much fun with this fic.
#hazbin hotel#hh#guitarspear#guardrock#hazbin hotel adam#hazbin hotel lute#rec list#fic rec list#hazbin hotel fic recs#i feel bad for putting almost as much of my own shit on this list as other people's#i was originally only going to put one but then got indecisive#rip#anyway. if anyone has any fic recs of their own please send them to me#although i'll note that i'm not big on fanon#beyond the sinner adam theory for. obvious reasons
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(bsd spoilers)
fyodor has often been brought up as this ... enigmatic and unpredictable character ever since his manga debut, so much so that he is called a demon. his beliefs could have something to do with his upbringing, especially if he were set on his plans from early on !! though i believe that a good amount of his motivations could be attributed to his suffering, it seems as if his story so far is going down the second route that you've described, that he may truly be more inhuman than we thought ...
a self-aware fyodor would be horrifying. imagine: as you are reading the manga, or watching the anime, he begins speaking to you! yes, you! he would tell you all sorts of things, his plans and desires, wanting most of all to let his words seep into your mind ... god knows what else he would do if he is aware that an entire audience is watching him đđ
Oh wow⊠did I actually predict this correctly? This will be so interestingâI am already very hyped. đ
I agree with you, imagining him as self-aware is indeed horrifying. But do you know what is even more horrifying? When he is actually inhuman. Because that suggests two possibilities: either his suffering was on an even greater level, or there was no suffering to begin with, and he really is as cold and soulless as he seems.
Now that is blood-chilling. Imagine all the things he didâany redeeming quality would be gone.
I think he would still have valid reasons to act the way he does (seriously, even if he did not, I would not care and would still defend him with my life, haha), but it is quite unnerving.
Also, your ask made me a bit self-aware as well, haha. I imagined Fyodor being aware of me writing God knows what about him. I would be mortified if he ever read the things I have written about him⊠ahhhh.
This also led me to thinkâwhat do I do when I have a partner in the future? I would not want him to find my writings either, you know? And how would I let you know if I died? You would not know, and this blog would just rot. That would not be nice, so I need to think of something regarding this.
Maybe I should appoint someone as the âkeeper of my blogâ just in caseâsomeone to send a dramatic final post like âShe has ascended to the heavens, clutching her Fyodor fanfics in one hand and her dignity in the other.â Or maybe I will just schedule posts far into the future to keep the mystery alive. Either way, letâs hope it does not come to that anytime soon, haha.â„ïž
Thank you very much for sending this, I really love such asks.â„ïž
#my children#đ° anon#đ°#bsd#bungou stray dogs#bsd fyodor#bungou stray dogs fyodor#fyodor dostoevsky#fyodor dostoyevsky bsd#bsd theory#bsd theories#bsd thoughts
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DRIVERS LICENSE | trevor zegras
trevor zegras x fem! cooke! reader
a/n this is set in NTDP era and the reader is the daughter of Olivia Cooke who is an exchange student for the following school year and is staying with the Hughes family as her host family <3 and part will be posted sometime this week hopefully!
warnings: strong language and cheating
I got my driver's license last week
Just like we always talked about
"Trevor, shut up!" Y/n yelled as Trevor roared in laughter. He was attempting to teach her to drive.
"I'm sorry but I can't take you seriously with your accent." He smiled as she rolled her eyes at him.
"I do not have an accent." She said fixing her posture as looking forward.
"Yes, you do." Trevor leaned back in his seat with a smile still set on his face.
She rolled her eyes before continuing to drive forward and trying to park. Once she finished the two got out to examine her parking abilities.
"Oh my god. You cannot park to save your life." He giggled seeing the girl's horrifying parking job. He was crouched in front of the wheels.
"Shut up. I only know how to drive on the other side. Why doesn't America do that?" She said crossing her arms.
"Because Americans are idiots." He said looking up at her.
"But don't worry, you'll learn and then you can come visit me anytime." He said standing up and wrapping his arms around her.
'Cause you were so excited for me
To finally drive up to your house
She excitedly drove up to the Hughes lake house and honked her horn causing everyone to run out as Jim got out of the driver seat. Y/n got out of the passenger seat with a frown.
"I tried. I really did and I..." She paused, "Passed!"
Trevor was the first to tackle her in a hug and congratulate her. The Hughes brothers following before Ellen.
"Told you." Trevor whispered to her as they all went back to the house.
But today I drove through the suburbs
Cryin' 'cause you weren't around
"Y/n/n, please come out. It's time for dinner." Jack said leaning against the locked door.
Trevor and Y/n broke up. Why? No one knew and neither of them would say anything.
The Summer was over, it was now late Winter, and Jack was supposed to leave back to USA training. She knew she had to come out.
"Hey." He said as she opended the door. He sent her that Golden Hughes smile. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tightly.
"Come on, Mom made your favorite." The went down the stairs.
She felt better after dinner. None of the Hughes brought up the breakup or asked her what happened. It was normal. Well, as normal as it gets for a Hughs family dinner. Luke and Jack kept launching pieces of their food at each other before Luke accidentally hit Y/n which led to them all launching pieces of their chicken at each other. Jim and Ellen would've stopped them but seeing the smile that had filled Y/n's face stopped them.
And you're probably with that blonde girl
Who always made me doubt
She's so much older than me
She's everything I'm insecure about
"Was I not enough?" Y/n aksed Luke over facetime. She had gone back home since her year was over. It was summer again.
"Don't say that." He said rolling over on his bed.
"But look at his instagram. He already has a new girl." She said with tears threatening to escape her eyes.
"And? You are perfect. If he doesn't see that his loss. Plus she's a bitch." He said as she furrowed her brows.
"How do you know?" She said sitting up from her bed. His eyes widened. He was not supposed to mention anything about knowing her.
"She just looks like it." He shrugged off.
Yeah, today I drove through the suburbs
'Cause how could I ever love someone else?
"He brought her to the lake house, didn't he?" She said tucking hair behind her ear.
"Yeah." He said looking down.
"It's fine." She mumbled.
"You can still come down here, you know." Luke said.
"It's only June. You can stay for the rest of the summer. Mom missed you, we all do." Luke was telling the truth. They all missed you.
"I miss Mama Hughes and all of you but I don't know. What if it's awkward?" She layed back on her bed.
"Then we can avoid them. Plus she barely leaves the guest room." Y/n's brows furrowed.
"She doesn't sleep with Trevor in his room?" She questioned. After Trevor asked her out, they always slept in his room together.
"Nope. She tried to go into your room but Trevor stopped her." He said as Y/n softly smiled.
"You guys didn't turn my room into another guest room?" She questioned.
"Of course not. We wanted to make it a game room but Mom wouldn't let us." He joked.
And all my friends are tired
Of hearing how much I miss you, but
I kinda feel sorry for them
'Cause they'll never know you the way that I do
"Please just think about coming for me. I miss my partner in crime." He said.
"I'll think about it." She said as her front door opened signaling that her mom was home.
"My Mum is home. I'll text you." She said before hanging up.
Maybe she should go back.
#Spotify#trevor zegras#trevor zegras x reader#anahiem ducks#jack hughes#luke hughes#quinn hughes#lovinbarzal writings
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at a family reunion-esque dinner an i just found out i have the cilantro soapy gene when i tell you i yelled at everyone âWHO WAS ITâ so damn loud. anyway to cope hereâs tua cilantro soap gene headcanons. please read i worked so hard XD
luther- yes and heâs sad about it :(
diego- no but he makes fun of luther
allison- nope. kind of convinced that itâs not real and everyone just made it up as an inside joke she wasnât in on as a kid. sheâs wildly insecure and bitter about it and is really passive agressive when itâs brought up
klaus- no but he is infinitely curious about what it tastes like and when he was 9 he ate a sliver of a bar of soap and cilantro at the same time to simulate the experience so he could empathize with his siblings. he cried and ran to grace who was confused but supportive and helped him wash his mouth out
five- yes but he doesnât care. his food opinions and vibes are Very Fucked Up and he used to eat rocks anyway so. you cannot tell me this man didnât eat rocks in the apocalypse drunkly because he was so hungry iâm sorry. also like cardboard poor baby
ben- thinks he does but he doesnât. this is og ben bc iâm always posting about him he is the real ben hargreeves to me but this goes for s! ben too. and idk how to explain it either
viktor- yeah but he likes it. heâs like mmmmm and diego is horrified everyone is losing their minds and heâs like yummy :D my favorite
lila- yes but pretends she doesnât because sheâs seen diego make fun of luther for it. heâs all âextra cilantro right babe B)â and sheâs like âhell yesâ but is sad inside. if she just told him he would never order cilantro on anything again in case she wants to eat some of his food but sheâs too far in at this point
sloane- no. she eats all of lutherâs cilantro for him though <3
reginald asshole hargreeves- yes and i hope He Fucking Suffers. stupid ass alien tastebuds or whatever. he pretends nothingâs happening because he thinks itâs a human thing and he doesnât want to blow his cover
grace- she canât eat, but is aware of the chemical that makes it taste/smell like that because of her advanced sensory hardware and software
the handler- no. she puts cilantro in fiveâs food because she knows he has the gene. she thinks heâs on to her and picks it out but he just has no reaction. he just doesnât care lmao. sheâs playing these fucking mind games 4d chess and heâs like absentmindedly chewing on checkers
pogo- nope.
#tua#writingastraightanswer#fuck you ill do random ass characters if i want#luther hargreeves#diego hargreeves#allison hargreeves#klaus hargreeves#five hargreeves#ben hargreeves#viktor hargreeves#cilantro soap gene#the umbrella academy#sloane hargreeves#lila pitts#the handler tua#phineas pogo#i need to make pogo analysis rn#fucking enjoy ig
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CW - talking about antisemitic depictions and about the house elves and the depiction of slavery in the books.
I'm having a frustrating day with a lot of physical pain, so I'm not the best at judging currently if I should be posting all of these thoughts. It's a response to multiple arguments by rude anons that I blocked (not for being rude, for being transphobic), but the arguments themselves stay on my mind and I just. Need this out. Ignore this, it will be all over the place, I'm basically venting. Hoping it'll be the last bit of HP criticism I post.
I'll tag it for you to block, as usual.
I've been asked what I expect of Rowling, since my criticism of the goblins included the books. She already wrote the books, they're printed and they're out there. She can't just change them, criticism does nothing because she has no path to correct her mistake.
First of all, with her transphobia - as far as I'm concerned she has blood on her hands at this point. The way she emboldens transphobia endangers lives and erodes queer rights. Anyone who contributes to the current push against trans people is complicit in trans genocide - and she made herself a symbol of that movement. Even if she did a 180 on her issues with Jewish stereotypes, she wouldn't redeem herself.
But she isn't the only one who wrote a story and then realized that her story has deep issues. What does it look like, if an author doesn't want to perpetuate those?
From what I know of Tolkien (and I know nothing LOTR or anything, just heard this from other Jewish creators who discussed this issue, treat this paragraph like I'm repeating a rumor) - Tolkien did stumble on an antisemitic depiction while writing his dwarves. Then he course-corrected by creating a more complex and nuanced picture of the society in his future works. Basically, he leaned into the idea of his dwarves as a Jewish allegory and made it a better and more respectful allegory. They have wonderful cultural details, like having foreign-language names used outside of their community - and names in their own native language that they call each other. Half of my family comes from France, and my mom was born there. She had a Hebrew name and a legal French name. That's extremely common among Jews in some areas of the world.
This response is what I would have expected if an author cares about being respectful of Jewish people. Acknowledge the issue, and try to do better.
But what if the issue was brought to your attention after you completely finished your story? In that case: "Yes, I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was writing an antisemitic narrative with my depiction of this fantasy race." Support the voices criticizing your work, and apologize. Let it be an example of tropes to avoid, and encourage others to be careful of the same pitfalls.
What you don't do, is act horrified and say "Oh, how could you, I never intended to make the goblins an antisemitic allegory! Surely if I don't mean it, it can't be hurtful!"
Also, if you truly care, you don't then abuse the memory of the holocaust when you write spin-offs of your original story, including its imagery to support a bigoted villain's argument.
Marginalized people understand that not everyone knows what we do. The stereotypes and the harmful ideas that weaved themselves into popular culture are about us. We know that it's invisible to people who aren't the target, and as a result aren't forced to learn these things. To many people, it's just a trope they're used to seeing. Like villains have hooked noses - it's practically a shorthand for an evil character.
All the stories we tell are based in some measure on stories we heard. Narratives and tropes feed off each other between different pieces of media. It's easy to pull together a harmful narrative without realizing, when the tropes that make it up usually go together, and are so common they're everywhere. So we know a person who means no harm can create something really hurtful, without knowing it.
That's why we criticize media: we want you to see and be aware.
In addition to this, I've been accused multiple times of ignoring the fact that these books discuss bigotry and condemn it. I'm not ignoring it, I know they do - or they try to. But Rowling wrote a story against racism without understanding it and without interrogating it in herself. She only knew to condemn it when it's rude and violent and outright hateful. Not the foundations of it.
So, sure, say she didn't mean to write something harmful. What does she do when she learns she did? Nothing. And not just about the issue of the goblins - about everything. I detailed the problems with her depiction of lycanthropy, but she did the same thing with the house elves.
There's lore about creatures called brownies. They'll perform chores for you, but they'd rather not be seen while they do. If you try to pay them, they'll get offended. If you give them clothes, they'll leave. This is a very partial description, but you can see the inspiration here.
And then she turned them into a slave race. They're bound to their enslavers, possessing powerful magic but using it in their service, forced to punish themselves for disobedience and endure extreme abuse. Kreacher actively wishes to have his head put on display when he's too old and weak to be of use.
To show the reader the horrors of freedom for an elf, JKR turned poor Winky into a depressed drunk with no purpose in her life. Winky's story is horrifying.
Only Dobby takes care of Winky for that whole year. She never recovers during it. Then she's made to witness the interrogation of Barty Crouch Jr., which upsets her and causes her distress. As a result, she hears about Crouch's death through a toneless forced confession - and the interrogation continues around her. That same day, she watches the last member of the household she loved have his soul taken by a dementor, and then she's left alone with the body while Dumbledore argues with Fudge. Only after, he sends Madam Pomfrey to do what she can for Winky, and take her to the kitchens where Dobby will take care of her again.
And Rowling wrote all of this. Did she think this is an example that even compliant house elves suffer and get neglected, even by the sympathetic wizards? Was this a lesson that even those who don't seek freedom suffer and lack agency in this system?
No. Rowling turned it into a cautionary tale against freeing slaves. Unless they're "weird" like Dobby.
Maybe she didn't try to be racist, but this fits disturbingly well with the arguments against ending slavery in reality. That enslaved people will turn into aimless drunks. That they need to be enslaved to have purpose. That those who want freedom have something wrong with them.
And I know this was criticized. What was the response to the criticism? Nothing direct as far as I know, but after all of this - there was an article published on Pottermore to argue that Winky's story is a warning against freeing the elves. It was taken down fortunately, but after this article the arguments against freedom are no longer the opinion of characters within the world - it's a message given to us by real people.
She doubles down. Every time. People keep yelling that she had nothing to do with Hogwarts Legacy, she's not responsible for the way it builds on her original canon. Well, she seems to approve of it. It continues painting the same line with the same brush - just bolder.
She doesn't care about the racism, she doesn't care about antisemitism - she just wanted to use the nazis as her easy villains. She doesn't have the imagination for any other kind.
#hogwarts legacy#riki babbles#HP#JKR#I'm not Black so I hope I'm not overstepping#the only history my community has with slavery as far as I know is from Nazi labor camps#which are very a different thing to chattel slavery#and the latter is more similar to the situation the house elves are in
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![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/121338693da7271089ca84e24a60ac92/4560dcd3bd7d4dac-fe/s540x810/00fe926c389aa8864cbd93580e7a64bd8a991467.webp)
PROPAGANDA
Mahiru Propaganda
"They got unfairly voted guilty in the first round and keeps getting blamed She never meant to hurt anyone and the only reason she did was cause she couldnât read social ques"
"Mahiru Shiina is the most traditionally feminine character in Milgram, and sheâs very in love with the idea of love. That makes her an easy fandom target. In Milgram, we are introduced to ten murderers. It quickly becomes apparent that not all of these murders are conventional. By the time we are introduced to Mahiru, we already know most of these unconventional murderers. Mahiruâs first music video depicts her going on various dates with her boyfriend, even though he is not shown in the frame. At the end of the video, Mahiru wakes up, turns to the camera, and has a horrified expression. Whatever happened, she didnât want it to happen. And then a lot of the fandom accused her of being a stalker. Was that what got her a 55% guilty/unforgiven vote? I donât know. I wasnât there. But she heard what the fandom said. She heard these voices saying she couldnât be forgiven. Saying that she was a stalker or that she didnât really love her boyfriend, even though that wasnât true. She was beaten to near-death by Kotoko, a vigilante who was forgiven by 67%. Fuuta, who also sustained serious injuries from Kotoko, calls out the audience surrogate, saying what we did with our verdicts would have made us the same as him if Mahiru had died. And yet Mahiru doesnât blame either us or Kotoko. Mahiruâs second music video shows that she was indeed in a proper relationship with her boyfriend. She smothered him with her love. The video slowly revealed the toxicity in their relationship. She asked why she canât do anything right. The fandom perception was better in that she was safely voted innocent/forgiven. Still, there are issues. Some infantilize her or say that sheâs delusional. Yes, she had a sheltered upbringing and has difficulties reading social cues, but that doesnât take away her agency. On the flip side, some have theorized that she kidnapped her boyfriend and wasnât in a proper relationship with him. (Not sure what to say about that, but this is a series about sympathetic murderers.)"
Kikyo Propaganda
"Picture this: the love of your life betrays you and causes your death, then you're brought back to life later against your will and your lover is with your reincarnation. Anyone would feel bitter! She tries her best to keep living her half life and helping people. She's hated just because she's not the main character and gets in the way of the show's OTP."
"Kikyo was such an interesting character. She was murdered by the villain, who tricked both her and her love interest into thinking the other had betrayed them, brought back to life against her will only to find that fifty years had passed, the world had moved on without her, her baby sister was now an old woman, and she'd been condemned to an awful half-life in an unfeeling clay body where she was stuck in her worst moments and basically a vengeful spirit, but she eventually managed to move past it, gave up her one chance at getting revenge on her murderer to save the life of a child, and achieved some measure of inner peace before she died for good. But, she also has the misfortune of being the first love of the male lead, so of course the only thing anyone seems to care about is how she supposedly did him dirty and wasn't good enough for him. The whole fandom is chock full of meta posts about how she didn't trust Inuyasha enough and should have known he'd NEVER betray her like that. Meanwhile, Inuyasha fell for it just as easily when the villain framed HER for attacking HIM, but nobody ever tries to claim that HE didn't trust HER enough. (For further context, when she thought he'd betrayed her, she retaliated by pinning him to a tree and putting him in an enchanted sleep. He retaliated by destroying her village.) In at least 90% of the fanfics that she appears in at all, she's either the Bad Girlfriend or the Evil Ex, who either previously or is currently abusing the hero, or cheating on him, or trying to coerce him into turning human, or dating him for years only to break up with him by telling him he disgusts her because of his demon blood (huh???), none of which she did in the actual canon, solely so the preferred love interest can swoop in and kiss it all better. People will claim they're just making valid criticisms of her actions (which, to be fair, aren't always great), or saying she didn't properly earn her redemption (which is actually pretty standard for a shounen series) because she didn't apologize enough, but them multiple male characters who did far worse than she did somehow miraculously managed to escape the constant criticisms that she's subjected to, this despite having a so-called redemption that's literally just "He stopped eating people because he wanted to get into the heroine's pants", and remain very popular characters both in their own right and as alternate ships for the female lead. The double standards are so glaringly obvious, yet people will bend over backwards and jump through mental hoops that would give a gold-medal Olympics gymnast pause to insist that they're being completely objective and fair and that this isn't just about trying to score points in a ship war or holding female characters to completely different standards from male characters."
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Follow up to this here
Related post that references this one
Rambling thoughts on Aerin and kindness, defiance and anger
I just keep thinking about Sador telling TĂșrin that Aerin maintains the older ways of Hadorâs people, even at great risk to herself
He says that she would be hurt if she were caught talking to a traveler at the door, and this might just be an inference because of Broddaâs gestures vaguely everything but it could also very well be some thing that Sador knows happened. He says that she knew all the councils of Morwen and was almost certainly one of the people who mentioned in chapter four who brought news to her. She feeds and shelters, those who have been cast out or who would otherwise be made slaves and doesnât ask for anything in return She uses what a little mobility her terrible Her position affords her consistently to help others, even when sheâs at risk of losing that mobility and just being hurt so badly for it.
Even more so than Angband, we get textual evidence regarding resources and resources control post NĂrnaeth in the Narn; Aerin bringing food to Morwen and suffering for it, the theft of the means of production in agriculture from the Hadorians, the way Aerin feeds Sador and some of the others. Aerin is often at the center of this, using this horrifying role she has been forced into to aid others, sometimes in ways she might be able to get away with, often in direct defiance
I think about the other ways she can keep hold of herself and her culture; whispered song or poem, even if itâs just to herself, my stitching ideaâŠ
Something about keeping a grip whatever fragments of your culture that you can, of whatever manners of your old life before it was torn apart by violence and in the face of devastating cultural loss
I was thinking about how Aerinâs kindness serves a similar purpose as Morwenâs pride. It is itself defiant against the insurmountable attacks, both personal and cultural that they have faced.
And how Aerinâs kindness is defiance, often in the literal sense as her aid of those who her captors dismiss or despise or fear is in direct disobedience of what sheâs allowed.
Thereâs also the duel aspect of her having to be at least to some extent nice and certainly polite to her captors, especially Brodda and the toll this takes. I think her sincere kindness towards others is almost a way of dealing with this. She fears what could happen if she gives into her anger or just sheer exhaustion in one side, that it will show on the other. I have another post about this somewhere but she has no room to be angry, no room to process and deal with what is being done to her
I also want to say that Aerinâs defiance takes many forms and is something that I think is overlooked including and perhaps especially by people in the book. Yes, Aerin is kind and her kindness and caring for Morwen and for her people is both brave and defiant in itself and vital to others. But she is also defiant in more overt ways, she is full of repressed anger, and she is so so brave.
I donât know if Iâm explaining myself properly but
Anyways Iâm running on about three hours of sleep, so this is not the most well put together post and I will return to it and try to say some thing more eloquent but yeah I just think about it a lot and I love her (and Morwen) very much
#the silmarillion#the children of hĂșrin#Aerin#Morwen#musing and meta#cw abuse#Iâm having SUCH a bad night but have this little musing#occupation of hithlum
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"In Dreams" - Post-Trespasser Fix-It fic (Complete, Explicit)
Sheâs tired. Three years and she hasnât seen her family. Three years of carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Three years that has hardened her and brought her more joy and more pain than she ever could have imagined.
She wants to rest. But she will never have that, not so long as the Inquisition remains.
You too know the burden of a title that all but replaces your name.
Part of her wonders if she can ever really stop being the Inquisitor. Would Orlais and Fereldan leave her be with the Inquisition gone? Would the world leave her be? Would the Herald of Andraste be allowed to return to the untamed forest and the barbaric life of her clan? Would she ever be free to live her life to her choosing?
Sheâs half tempted to throw the book at the counsel and let them fight amongst themselves until they figure it out. What difference does it make for her anyway?
But she hears their voices as she nears the door.
âWe stand on the brink of war with the Qunari!â
âYes, because this Solas provoked them!â
Anger flares within her. She will not let the Inquisition stand as an army against Solas. Not with itâs corruption. Neither Ferelden nor Orlais nor Solasâ own spies will have the Inquisition. Not with people so willing to assign blame, who never knew him, who would be more interested in cutting him down than attempting to stay his hand. She'll destroy the organization before she gives any of these ignorant fools the tools to harm him.
The guards on either side of the doors open them for her, and she marches into the room. Josephine stares at her with wide eyes, horrified sheâs out of bed.
âInquisitorâŠâ
She averts her gaze from Josephine and raises the Divineâs rit for all to see. She declares the Inquisition disbanded, throws the book at the counselâs feet, and marches out.
Something lifts from her as she passes through the hallâs doors. There is no longer a powerful organization for her to stand as figurehead. Any obligation to put on a face for ceremony or pretense vanishes, and she nearly crumples from the release of it. She leans against the wall for support, hot tears rolling down her face.
Ar lasa mala revas.
Continue reading on A03
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X-Files Collector's Edition: MOTW but Rinse and Repeat
MOTWs were among the best of The X-Files episodes... but what if those monsters had follow up episodes?
Honorable mention: @paperheartsarts/Paper_hearts_and_homemade_arts's series If You Will Let Me (which is still on-going) which follows Padgett's demon pursuing Scully even after death. Horrifying hallucinations and real, physical danger nearly claim her and Mulder's lives.
Loose chronological order below~
Pattie's It and Them
""Mulder, you're not going to believe this... "
"I believe in all kinds of things, Scully." He looked at his watch. "Isn't it past your bed time?"
"Jane Doe appears to have become John Doe." She kept her eyes on the infant and waited for her partner's reply. "Remember the Amish outside of Steveston?"
"What?" Mulder sat up. Now HE was fully awake.""
Mulder and Scully do their best to aid an ex-Kindred cult member's baby that she leaves on Scully's doorstep.
Offspring
""The doctor ushered Mulder and Scully into a small office where he had a desk. "I know. You must think this is just something in the lake water, or regular hepatitis. But this kid puked up what looks to be a flatworm."
"A fluke." Mulder nodded to Scully.
"Yes, a fluke. Last month, we removed one from a woman's liver, and it wasn't a typical fluke. We embalmed it until we could find someone to identify it. Then, when Kevin Johnson was brought here yesterday, we had our second fluke. It's in an aquarium in the same lab. as the one we embalmed.""
S4: Flukeman-infested lake.
Genetic Appetite
""Scully was adamant. "We are staying." She knew she wasn't going to have a good night's sleep when Mulder started thinking aloud in the lobby of the apartment building.
"You don't suppose he... "
Scully's patience was wearing thin. "What? Don't suppose he what?"
"Mated. Well, it's not that impossible to believe, Scully. All beings have the urge to procreate. Maybe he could get through a date without eating.""
Liver extractions and bodies are piling up... but Tooms is dead. Mulder and Scully track down an unexpected source.
EllieL/Ellie's Rendering Judgment of Chthonic Gods
""Atropos has cut the line. You saw it happen. Whatever you may see that she has to do in the future, the decision was made that she shall not continue. It cannot be undone, not by my will nor my husband's."
"You could give her a choice. She's coming here unguided, and has dipped her hand in the river and tasted it. That must change matters."
"That--that does change matters, somewhat. She was a good woman in life, and I am not unsympathetic to her or what you see of her future. And she still has a choice where to drink. Let her make that choice, and perhaps she'll make the decision for us.""
Scully's nurse in One Breath bargained indirectly with her son-in-law, Death, for her patient's life. Invisible deals are struck, allowing Scully both to live and to see her father one last time.
JET/Jesemie's Evil Twin/eviljesemie's Things That Lie Outside
""He must have been the one to apologize but has no idea what he really said. After the family leaves, he realizes her presence behind him. Turning, he catches an expression on her face so protective of him he almost steps back. She straightens up, goes to grab their files off the internal audit conference table.
It might not have been there at all, that look. Probably not. Almost 100% guaranteed it was not.
He misses his sister at this moment, he realizes, because in every alternate world he's imagined, every place Samantha is alive and well and his sister, she has grown up to be the kind of person he would tell about that look, and he might let something into his voice that she would suspect, and it would be a secret between them.""
Post Paper Hearts Scully finds the last girl, setting her partner free from this last horrific hold.
Justin Glasser's (xphilefic) Kevin
""Miss Scully, this is Nathan, Kevin's brother. I talked to you today and--Miss Scully, I don't know if this is, like, your jurisdiction or what, but if there's anything you can do--he's gone, and we can't--I don't think we can find him. He said he was afraid of the moloch and I didn't believe him . . . Miss Scully, please." Click. The machine whirred in rewind, and shut off, light glowing placidly.
"You don't know what that is?" she asked.
Mulder shrugged. "Can't know everything, I guess.""
S5? Scully is called two years later when Kevin Kryder goes missing. While she and Mulder locate Kevin, his new brother is taken as well... and killed.
msk's (Ao3), bcfanâs, maybe_amanda/MaybeAmanda's (Site, LiveJournal), Tesla's (XLibris), Amy's, Kmom's, Lucy Marchmont's
Jabberwocky
""Sybil, have you go got a crucifix, a cross, an article or symbol of your faith on or about your person? Necklace, earrings, scapular, sacred vestments of any sort? Bottle of holy water, maybe?..."
Sybil shook her head. "I have another pair of duck earrings in my purse. How's that?"
"Probably not enough."
"Mulder," Scully said, her voice sounding harsh even to her own ears, "I'm giving you three seconds to start making some sense. One, two-"
"The glyphs," he said. "It's like a welcome mat. Only instead of saying *Welcome,* or *The Addams Family,* this is more like, *Vlad lives here. Trespassers will be eaten*.""
S6 (or S7) Mulder takes Scully back to Texas for another undead case, courtesy of Frohike. Between her jealousy of a flirty, bubbly redhead, pique at Mulder's constant Sheriff Hartwell teasing, enjoyment at an incredibly fancy hotel her partner booked specifically for her, and fear of said flirty redhead's two horrific insurance brother-bosses, Scully is torn between annoyance and affection. She is, however, able to pull it together just in time for the crazy finale involving her partner, a vampire feast auction, and a law enforcement bust led by the vampire Sheriff himself.
Maria Nicoleâs
Stand by the Window
""Once they had tracked him down, only his threatened cascade of disclosure kept them at a distance, growling and snapping.
A few years ago he might have fought them, might have tried to disappear for good, or else oust Strughold. Now he was simply tired of it all.
And so he was finally forced to live the life he had pretended to have all along.""
The Well-Manicured Man survived FTF's car bomb, fending off his compatriots with threats of exposure. Plunging himself into caged retirement, he awaits the inevitable, befriending his spy-housekeeper leading up to the events of One Son.
Bridge
""So what do you want to call them? Little bug-boys?"
"Bug-ees. Buggers. The deadened. The ungrateful dead. Deadheads. Hey, yeah...deadheads."
She looked like she was struggling to suppress the smile, but it came out anyway. "All right, so we have the disappearance of these deadheads from the previous case. We have two people dead now, with some sort of puncture wound in the back of their neck. Have you considered that you were hallucinating?"
"I thought you just said you believed--" She shook her head. "That Pincus injected those people, without a doubt. But what if...you've been assuming that he's a large insect-like creature who can trick others into believing he's human. What if it's the other way around? What if he's a human who can trick others into believing he's a monster?""
Field Trip Mulder and Scully ditch their quarantine early, experiencing unexpectedly peaceful and soul-searching mind-melds while investigating a case very like Folie a Deux. The depths of Scully's plumbed from the depths of an ocean, Pincus and snake venom, and rescuing Mulder from himself-- this is a gorgeous read: more exploratorily honest than neck-stiffeningly intense.
Wylfcynne's Imagine
""He headed for the door, then hesitantly turned. "Agent Scully?"
She turned, surprised by his tone. "Yes?"
"You want to know why the X Files and the two of you have been shut down so hard?"
She stared at him. "We know why."
"Because you terrify them, Scully, with your courage, your integrity and your uncompromising principles. You terrify me and I'm on your side. Imagine how they feel.""
Post S.R. 819 Mulder and Scully are captured by a cult. He's infected with the black oil while Scully frees herself enough to call in Skinner and the cavalry. She then must save her partner, ruthlessly torturing the alien virus in his body to death. Everyone else stands in awe.
Joann Humby's The Pattern
""She kept her voice professionally mild even when she finally changed the subject. "Skinner said that Diana Fowley worked for Patterson."
He let his hand rest on her shoulder, admiring her courage. "I effectively introduced them. He liked her." He ignored the way that Scully flinched, and was grateful that she bit down her instinctive response to his remark. Talking was hard.... "After the Props case, he helped her to get funding for her research. In San Francisco," he added, not quite disguising the amusement in his voice. If Scully could be courageous then so could he. "About as far away from me as he could manage."
"But you still left the ISU?"
"Reggie was willing to take me off Patterson's hands. He wasn't in a position to say no."
"And you and Diana?"
"It suited us. A couple of thousand miles apart.""
Post Amor Fati Mulder's history with Monty Propps becomes relevant again. He slowly unravels the current mystery whilst reflecting on his past with Diana and his possible future with Scully, IVF, and angels. (There are even sections from Diana's POV during her early relationship which delves into her assignment to California and her recruitment parallel to Mulder's discovery of the X-Files.)
aka Jake/ aka_Jake âs (Gossamer) Reprise
""She turned to face him, laundry abandoned. âI donât have to tell you, we saw Eugene Tooms chopped into a million pieces by an escalator.â
âI noticed that.â
âCity Square thoroughly cleaned the area before the shopping mall reopened. They sent us their bill.â
âMaybe they missed a spot.â
âAnd what, Tooms grew a new body from a finger or a pinky toe?â
Mulder tapped the end of his nose.
âNo.â She shook her head. âItâs impossible.""
Post S11 Mulder and Scully battle another Eugene Tooms-like case... in fact, it is Tooms, who just won't die.
Gefangener (txt)
""Opponents of the death penalty often cite that capital punishment is not a deterrent to murder, those executed are usually poor, and many innocent people have been wrongly sentenced to death.
Tell it to someone who cares.
...Special Agent Fox Mulder has not seen Gerry Schnauz since testifying at his trial. He isn't sympathetic to the fact that Schnauz is a diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic, who, according to his court-appointed lawyer, belongs in Melvoin Psychiatric Hospital, not a maximum security prison.
Fox Mulder wishes Gerry Schnauz had committed his crimes in one of the forty states that gas, electrocute or inject its serial killers.""
AU-- Post Unruhe Mulder darkly reflects on Schnauz not getting the death penalty while Scully lies forever in bed, her mind ruined.
@admiralty-xfd/admiralty's Novam Domum
""Seventeen year old Daisy Peacock stepped on the gas but wasnât certain where she was headed. The radio blasted Del Shannon and she rolled her window down. The smell inside the car was awful.
...Edmund Peacock sat stoic in the front seat, staring straight ahead, not saying anything. He never said anything. And her mother laid in back, blood slick down her thighs, screaming not out of pain but of rage. The noise was akin to the whinnying of a horse, or cattle being zapped. All she wanted was to make the sound stop the way Father would when the babies came out all wrong.Â
Waiting was her only option. Mother wasnât long for this world, anyway.""Â
Post S11 Mulder and Scully were settling into their new lives as expecting parents when another family from their blast blows in, searching for their own place to call Home.
AUsÂ
Adam Webb's Pyre
""As the casket stopped in front of him while loading documentation was double checked. Mulder saw L'Ively holding up his palm, displaying that it was empty in the manner of a theatrical magician. The next instant a tiny fluttering orange fire blossomed from his extended index finger. In the space of a second its intensity quadrupled, flaring into a pencil-thin lance of white hot flame. Coming from the casket a high-pitched beeping sound filled the air, indicating that the rise in temperature had been registered by in-built sensors. L'Ively appeared unconcerned, either with the fact that his pyrokinetic display had tripped the alarm or that his skin was being consumed. Mulder had a fleeting vision of the wiry little Englishman's body repairing itself and staggering out of the burning wreckage of a downed aircraft. It was a fact stranger than fiction that Lively had already survived three deaths. But all of those had been death by fire, Mulder reminded himself, falling from a great height would prove as fatal to L'Ively as it would to anyone else. Grinning like a hob-goblin L'Ively used the residue of his own melting flesh to draw a large greasy brown heart shape onto the glass, and through it blew a kiss to Scully. Then folding his blackened finger into his palm he abruptly banished the fire.""
Post Paper Clip Cecil L'Ively cut a deal with the government-- because, of course-- and puts Scully in a coma. Mulder and Phoebe team up to take him down, healing a few old wounds and earning a bit of redemption.
Thalia D'Muse's Nowhere to Hide
""The cabin is set back in the woods, two miles from the nearest dwelling. It is perfect. Your screams will be for my ears only. A sweet symphony with me as the sole audience. I shudder in anticipation as I remember your voice: a deep, sensuous alto, caressing my ears like a sultry torch song. I want to hear that voice again so badly. I want to hear that silky-smooth voice speak my name. I want to hear it scream, cry, beg for mercy. These are the sounds that will be music to my ears.
Sleep now, my Dana. We will be there soon.""
Alternating between the madness of Pfaster and the desperation of Mulder, this post Irresistible fic toys with an AU: if Donnie Pfaster were able to break free and recapture his last victim.
@slippinmickeys/Slippin' Mickeys's (Ao3) Unnamed (Ao3)
""Mulder felt like heâd been punched in the solar plexus.
âHe killed her,â he said, deflating.
Heâd been expecting a âwe donât know that yetâ or a âwithout a body, thereâs still hope, Mulder.â Instead, she said: âAnd you killed him.â Something in the way she held her shoulders made him think she wasnât sorry for it.""
 Post Paper Hearts Mulder finds a photograph of Samantha that matches the last cloth heart; but his extreme sorrow is immediately channeled into determination to save Scully from her cancer.
Erin M. Blairâs (Ao3) A Little Twist of Three
""Hold that thought," Scully replied, as carefully put down little Dana, and she opened the door. It was Kristen Kilar, one of Melissa's New Age friends.""
S1 deviated with Mulder and Scully becoming parents and a family. When S2 Duane Barry rolls around, it's Melissa Scully who is taken instead. Kristen Kilar is one of Missy's friends.
Kim Berglund's Blood Dimmed Tide
""Morbidly he reached in and slid out the state trooper's photo that had tormented him for many sleepless nights. Scully gagged and tied, her eyes wide with fear.
He dropped it back into the folder and closed his eyes.
It had been his darkest night. Until now.
He thought he could hear the beating of wings. La gargouille waiting impatiently for death.
Opening his eyes, Mulder let go of the file and reached for the one behind it.
Kristen Kilar, The Trinity Killers.""
Post Grotesque Scully is withdrawing from Mulder, thinking she's failed to help her partner-- giving up. Kristen arrives, creating more friction; and Mulder, sick of it all, pulls out his gun.
bellefleur/bellefleur1013's Triple Returns
""Kristen herself had not actually committed the murders the first time, but she had led her unholy trinity to each of the victims, and she alone as an observer knew the intimate details of each victim and crime scene. The identical nature of the crimes could only mean one thing--Kristen was reconstructing the path that had first brought them together. By duplicating the case that Mulder had solved, she was sure to attract his attention and draw him into it again.""
It's S7: Kristen Kilar is back; and Scully has to pry open Mulder about his past with her and save him from being turned into a vampire.
J. C. Sun's Leave
""Cold, very cold, yet lovely, this woman.
This coldness, this is what he lacks.
This coldness, it makes him better.
"Very pretty. You have good taste."
He starts.
He casts a nervous glance towards his gun. I laugh, and he relaxes.
"You are happy?" I say.
His mouth twitches, and I read that he is happy, as happy as he can ever be.""
Vampire Kristen lived, running across Mulder's path years later. She sees Scully, his peace, and-- finally-- her own reflection.
Thanks for reading~
Enjoy!
#txf#MOTW but Rinse and Repeat#xf fanfic#Collector's Edition#x-files#fic#mine#the x files#MOTW Follow Up Fics#MOTW#J. C. Sun#Joann Humby#Maria Nicole#MaybeAmanda#Tesla#Lucy Marchmont#msk#Amy#Kmom#bcfan#SlippinMickeys#J. C. Sun's#Adam Webb#Maria Nicoles#EllieL#Ellie#Pattie#JET#Jesemie's Evil Twin#eviljesemie
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