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soluversworld · 2 days ago

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MISTER x SHOUJO - Subaru Oogami x G.N Reader part 3

The kid at the back is a 18+ visual novel Minors don’t interact!

Words:

Genre: G.N Reader (Fluff, Angst!)

Summary: You and Geo navigate an unconventional relationship built on misunderstanding, tension, and unexpected moments of connection. After a lie spirals out of control, rumors spread that Geo is your boyfriend, much to the confusion of everyone around you—including Geo himself. Despite his cold and hostile demeanor, Geo reluctantly agrees to play along, but only for his own peace and solitude.

Geo’s sharp, broody personality often leaves you feeling uncertain and overwhelmed. He doesn’t hesitate to criticize you, flick your forehead when you talk back, or scold you for minor mistakes. Yet, he also protects you, whether from prying classmates or persistent admirers, and even takes your hand to make a show of your “relationship” when his friends are watching.

( Reader is a g.n!)-

Trigger Warning: This content contains themes of

Tension-filled dynamics with elements of power imbalance and verbal hostility’s

Rumors and social pressures leading to feelings of alienation and discomfort.

Physical gestures of dominance (e.g., flicking foreheads, pinching).

Underlying themes of unresolved trauma and complex family dynamics

Solivan Brugmanisa

Violence, Blood

EXTRA: He’s a character from a game named The kid at the back!! Note, Been reading a lot of Shoujo mangas why not! Make Geo and reader in such a simple plot!

Me basically to TKATB at this point

It had been a few days since that night. Geo had been close—physically near you in class, walking beside you when schedules aligned—but he hadn’t opened his mouth to speak even once. His presence was there, a silent weight lingering just within reach, yet he felt so far away.

You didn’t question it at first. Maybe this was just how he was. Maybe he didn’t have anything to say. Maybe, deep down, you were scared to push for answers.

But today was different.

Geo wasn’t in class.

That wasn’t normal.

You found yourself frowning, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling creeping into your stomach. It wasn’t like you were worried—Geo was more than capable of handling himself—but still… something felt off.

The whispers in the hallways didn’t help. The absence of his brooding presence was enough to stir murmurs among the students. Even the professors looked surprised to see his usual seat empty.

Finally, during a break, you cornered Crowe near the student council office. He had his usual calm, unreadable expression as he flipped through some documents.

"Where’s Geo?" you asked, trying to keep your tone casual, but the slight tension in your voice betrayed you.

Crowe barely looked up. "Sick."

You blinked. "Sick?"

Crowe nodded, still scanning the papers in his hands. "Yeah. Caught a cold or something."

You frowned. "Someone like him actually gets sick?"

Crowe finally looked at you with a faint smirk. "He’s human, you know. Not some untouchable deity, despite what half the student body believes."

You hesitated, not sure why that answer made your chest feel tight.

"Anyway," Crowe continued, flipping to the next page. "I need to deliver this document to him, but I’m swamped with council work. If you could—"

"What?" you interrupted.

Crowe glanced at you, amusement flickering in his eyes. "You’re his lover, aren’t you? He might actually be happy to see you."

You immediately looked away, feeling a heat rise to your face. "We’re not—"

"You’re close enough," Crowe said, waving off your weak protest. "You’re the best candidate."

You stood there for a moment, gripping the strap of your bag. You could say no. You could let someone else handle it. But before you could find the words to refuse, your own traitorous voice mumbled, "…Okay."

Crowe’s smile widened slightly, like he’d expected that answer all along. He handed you the document, and before you could second-guess yourself, you took it.

Geo’s place wasn’t what you expected.

Despite knowing he was rich, his home wasn’t a grand mansion or some absurd penthouse. It was sleek, modern, and surprisingly quiet. The kind of place that felt detached from the world, just like him.

You stood outside his door, the document in one hand, your other hesitating mid-air as you debated knocking.

Why were you nervous?

It wasn’t like this was some big deal.

Finally, before your overthinking could spiral further, you knocked.

Standing outside Geo’s apartment door, you took a deep breath before knocking.

No answer.

You knocked again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

For a moment, you debated leaving. Maybe Crowe had been messing with you. Maybe Geo was fine, just skipping classes like an arrogant bastard.

But the way Crowe had said, “Geo’s sick”—it lingered in your mind. The guy never got sick, so it felt wrong.

You tried again, this time speaking up.

“It’s me.��

Silence. Then, muffled shuffling from inside.

The door cracked open slightly, and you barely had time to see his face before he grumbled, “How the hell did you get my address?”

Your mouth opened, then closed. You decided against lying. “Crowe gave it to me.”

Geo let out a slow, tired exhale, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes—usually sharp and piercing—looked dull, the dark circles beneath them standing out even more against his pale skin. His hair was slightly messy, strands falling over his forehead, and his hoodie was barely hanging onto his shoulders.

He looked terrible.

And terrifying.

Great combination.

“Fantastic,” he muttered sarcastically. “You did it. You found me. Now go.”

Before you could argue, he turned back into his apartment. But in his tired haze, he miscalculated his steps—his shoulder slammed into the doorpost, making him stagger.

Then, as if the universe decided to humiliate him further, the door itself swung in, slamming into his back as it slowly creaked shut.

Geo let out a weak thud as he crumpled onto the floor.

You stared.

“…Geo?”

No response.

Your stomach dropped, and without thinking, you shoved the door open wider, rushing inside. You crouched beside him, panic creeping into your voice. “Hey—Geo, are you—”

No answer.

Your hands trembled slightly as you touched his shoulder, trying to shake him awake. He was burning up.

Shit.

Muttering a curse, you hooked your arms under his, trying to lift him. He was heavy—which made sense considering he was taller than you, but still. With some effort, you managed to drag him toward his bed, awkwardly maneuvering until he was sprawled across it.

You let out a sigh, standing back and catching your breath. His blanket was half-kicked off, so you grabbed it and pulled it over him.

His breathing was slow but steady. His face, though flushed with fever, was still that same unreadable expression. He looked… weirdly vulnerable like this.

You sat at the edge of the bed, frowning. “Did you take any medicine?”

His eyelids barely lifted. “…No.”

You crossed your arms. “Why?”

He groaned, shifting under the blanket. “I’ll sleep it off. Get out.”

You ignored him, pulling out your phone to search how to make rice porridge. If he wouldn’t take medicine, at least he needed something.

But before you could even start, Geo suddenly pushed himself up and reached for your phone, snatching it right out of your hands.

“No need to butt in,” he muttered, his voice hoarse but still laced with that same cold arrogance.

You blinked at him in disbelief. “Geo, you literally just collapsed—”

“Not your problem,” he cut in, tossing your phone back to you before falling back onto the bed.

You caught your phone with a slight stammer, your mind short-circuiting.

The next day, Geo still didn’t show up to class.

You were done.

Like, completely, mentally, emotionally, physically done.

Fine. He didn’t want your help? Cool. But the stubborn idiot wasn’t even taking care of himself. You didn’t know why it pissed you off so much. Maybe because of how arrogant he was, thinking he could just sleep off a fever like some kind of unbreakable warrior.

Well, guess what? He was broken. You saw him collapse.

And now, like it or not, you were going to fix this mess.

There was just one problem.

You had no idea how to cook.

Like, at all. The last time you tried making instant noodles, you somehow burned the water.

So, there was only one solution left.

You had to ask the one person you hated the most.

Your emo older brother.

You hesitated before calling. It had been a while since you actually reached out to him. Partly because he was an annoying stalker toward someone. Partly because he had this weird way of making you feel like a little kid again. And partly because, well… you just didn’t talk much anymore.

Still, you pressed the call button.

The phone rang a few times before a tired, groggy voice answered.

“Who’s this?”

Oh, right. You never actually gave him your number.

You hesitated, your fingers gripping the phone tighter. For a split second, you considered just hanging up.

Then, in a slightly awkward tone, you said, “…Hey, brother.”

Silence.

Then, a slow, drawn-out sigh. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Yeah.”

More silence.

Then, finally, “Why are you calling?”

You took a deep breath. “I need… a favor.”

That caught his attention. “A favor?” His voice perked up just slightly. “Did hell freeze over?”

You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to hang up right then and there.

“I need some recipes,” you continued. “For someone who has a fever.”

A long pause. Then, suspiciously, “Who?”

You groaned. “None of your business.”

“Hmm.” You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “A ‘friend,’ huh?”

You felt your eye twitch.

“Just give me the recipes, Sol.”

Sol hummed in thought. “I could cook it up for you.”

“No.” You shot that down immediately. “Just the recipes.”

Another long pause.

“…Fine,” he finally said. “I’ll text them to you.”

“…Thanks.”

A small chuckle. “Didn’t think you’d ever ask me for help.”

You sighed. “Yeah, well. Desperate times.”

There was a strange pause on his end. Then, in a quieter voice, he said, “Take care.”

You swallowed, caught off guard.

“…You too.”

The call ended.

You stared at your phone for a moment, your chest feeling oddly tight.

Sol was still a weirdo. A stalker to someone else. A mess in his own right.

That's all.

You needed an excuse. A good one. Something solid enough that Geo wouldn’t immediately slam the door in your face again.

So, naturally, you went to Crowe.

The student council president glanced up from his desk when you approached, his sharp eyes laced with curiosity. “Yes?”

You hesitated for a moment before finally blurting, “I need a reason to visit Geo.”

Crowe’s expression barely shifted, but you could tell he was amused. He leaned back in his chair, tilting his head slightly. “Why?”

Not wanting to explain yourself, you quickly scanned the nearest stack of papers on his desk—Geo’s test results. Without thinking, you grabbed them.

“I’ll deliver these,” you announced.

Crowe looked worried Y/n, It's fine-

You ignored him, shoving the documents into your bag. “See ya.”

You turned to leave, Crowe chuckled under his breath. “Both of you are stubborn, I do miss M-, They got a boyfriend now...hm.."

Geo looked like he regretted opening the door the second he saw you.

His feverish aquamarine eyes flickered with annoyance as he grumbled, “How the hell did you get my address again?”

You held up the test results. “Crowe sent me. Thought you’d want these.”

Geo’s tired stare lingered on you, his gaze heavy with skepticism. He exhaled slowly, as if debating whether you were worth dealing with.

Rather than wait for an invitation, you stepped inside.

Behind you, you heard a muffled, “The hell—” but Geo was too exhausted to physically stop you.

His house was immaculate, yet the signs of sickness were obvious. Half-finished water bottles littered the table, crumpled tissues sat on the couch, and there, on his nightstand, was an untouched pack of medicine.

So that’s how it was.

You turned back to him.

He stood stiffly, arms crossed, dressed in an oversized hoodie and sweatpants. His normally sharp features were dulled by exhaustion, lips pale, dark hair slightly unkempt. His fever made his already fair complexion flush slightly, giving him an almost vulnerable look—if not for the constant glare he threw your way.

You sighed. “Go back to bed.”

“I was in bed until you knocked on my door.”

Ignoring him, you stepped forward. He instinctively tried to block you, but you reached out, gripping his shoulders firmly.

Then, without much thought, you pushed him back.

Unfortunately, you underestimated just how stubbornly solid he was.

Which resulted in the both of you tumbling backward.

Straight onto the bed.

You landed on top of him, your hands planted on his chest, his arms half-raised as if debating whether to shove you off.

Silence stretched between you.

Geo’s fevered gaze bore into yours, his lips parting slightly before pressing into a tight line. His grip on your waist was hesitant, like he wasn’t sure whether to push or hold you in place.

His breath was warm against your cheek.

“…Was this necessary?” His voice, though rough, was eerily calm.

Your entire body tensed. “S-Sorry!”

You scrambled off him so fast that you nearly fell again.

As you moved, your bag tipped over, and its contents spilled across his bed—packs of medicine, fever patches, a sports drink, a whole damn arsenal of cold remedies.

Geo stared at the mess. Then at you.

“…Are you trying to drown me in medicine?”

You huffed, brushing off his sarcasm. “You need it.”

He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, exhaling sharply. “I told you—I’m fine.”

“You look awful.”

“That’s just my natural state.”

Your fingers curled into fists. This idiot. This absolute moron.

Geo’s gaze darkened slightly. “What’s your deal?”

“What?”

“You came here, barged in, and now you’re playing doctor.” His fevered stare pinned you in place. “What do you want? You trying to put me in your debt?”

The accusation hit you like a slap.

You blinked at him. “What? No.”

“Then why?” His voice was quiet, but sharp, cutting straight through you.

Why?

You didn’t have an answer.

You had no logical reason.

You just wanted to be here.

“…I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, Geo said nothing.

Then, with a tired sigh, he leaned back against the pillows, muttering, “You’re so fucking annoying.”

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but smile a little.

He didn’t throw you out.

It wasn’t just one message. Or two.

It was ten.

From Sol.

[Sol]: Here. Easy-to-make recipes for someone with a fever. [Sol]: Don’t mess it up. [Sol]: Actually, knowing you, you will. [Sol]: Try not to set anything on fire. [Sol]: …Actually, do you even know how to cook? [Sol]: If not, just tell me, I’ll make something and drop it off. [Sol]: Hello??? [Sol]: Why are you ignoring me? [Sol]: Fine, good luck burning down the kitchen. [Sol]: Call me when you inevitably fail.

You stared at the flood of messages, lips twitching.

No way in hell were you going to admit that Sol was right.

So, instead of just picking one recipe like a normal person, you did the most idiotic thing imaginable.

You made all ten.

The kitchen became a war zone of pots, ingredients, and sheer stubborn determination. Rice porridge, miso soup, some kind of soft omelet dish—each one made with painstaking effort. You tasted everything, ensuring it was at least edible. Surprisingly, nothing tasted bad. Maybe even… okay?

The next morning, you returned to Geo’s place, knocking sharply.

When he opened the door, his feverish eyes flickered in confusion at the sight of you holding an entire tray stacked with food.

“What the fuck?” His voice was hoarse, his confusion genuine. “Are you stupid?”

You ignored the insult and brushed past him, entering his home like you owned the place. You set the tray on his table and turned to him with a proud grin.

“I made food,” you announced.

Geo pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. “Yeah, I can see that.”

You motioned toward the dishes. “Eat.”

Geo rubbed his temples, muttering, “You made way too much. Why the hell—”

“I didn’t care,” you cut in. “I just… wanted to make sure you had options.”

Geo stared at you.

Then at the ridiculous amount of food.

Then back at you.

“…You’re an idiot.”

“You’re welcome.”

He sighed, stepping toward the table. His movements were sluggish, weighed down by exhaustion. Even as he sat down, he barely touched the food, his fingers loosely gripping the chopsticks.

“I’m tired,” he muttered. “I’ll eat later.”

Your eye twitched.

Like hell you were going to let all that effort go to waste.

You picked up a spoonful of porridge and held it up to his mouth. “Then I’ll feed you.”

Geo’s entire body tensed.

Then, like a lightning bolt struck him, he shot up from his chair, snatched the chopsticks, and started eating at a speed you didn’t think was possible for a sick person.

You blinked.

And then, slowly, a giggle escaped your lips.

Geo glared at you, his expression sharp despite the slight flush on his cheeks—whether from fever or embarrassment, you weren’t sure. “Shut up.”

You giggled again, covering your mouth. “Your stupid pride is hilarious.”

Geo scowled, shoving another bite of food into his mouth.

But he kept eating.

And somehow, despite the insults, despite the glares, despite the fever and his sheer stubbornness—

You couldn’t help but feel warm.

Here's your continuation in a rich narrative style:

The quiet hum of the faucet filled the kitchen as you scrubbed the last dish, the warm water running over your fingers. The apartment was eerily silent, except for the occasional soft rustle of blankets from the other room.

Geo had finally fallen asleep.

You exhaled, glancing toward the door leading to his room. The exhaustion on his face earlier had been evident—dark circles under his aquamarine eyes, the way his shoulders sagged just slightly more than usual. He had been running on sheer stubbornness.

At least now, for a little while, he was resting.

Somewhere deep in sleep, Geo’s dream began to take shape.

Snow.

It was always snow.

He stood in a field of white, untouched and pristine, the cold air crisp against his skin. Small figures dotted the landscape—snowmen, uneven and clumsily built, their lopsided heads tilting as if caught mid-thought.

He knew these snowmen.

He had built them before.

The memory surfaced unbidden—tiny hands, gloves too big, laughter ringing in the air as two children shaped mounds of snow into something resembling people.

His people. Your people.

His gaze flickered over the frozen figures. There, in the middle, stood the ones you both had made to look like each other.

But something was wrong.

Yours was collapsed. Fallen to the ground, half-melted, as if abandoned.

Geo stepped forward, reaching out—

But before he could fix it, the dream shattered.

His eyes snapped open.

A soft warmth pressed against his forehead.

He tensed.

For a moment, he wasn’t sure if he was still dreaming. The dim glow of his bedside lamp illuminated the room, and there you were, leaning over him, fingers lightly touching his forehead as if checking his temperature.

Your expression was focused, careful, unaware that he had woken up.

“…Sorry.”

Your voice broke the silence as you noticed his open eyes. You quickly pulled your hand away. “Did I wake you up?”

Geo blinked, disoriented. His body still felt heavy with fever, his mind sluggish—but there was something else. A lingering sense of unease, a whisper of a feeling he didn’t quite understand.

His voice was rough when he spoke.

“…Were you here the entire time?”

You hesitated. “I… yeah.”

Geo sat up slowly, pressing a hand to his forehead as if trying to make sense of everything. His gaze flickered toward you, sharp but unreadable.

Then, with quiet suspicion, he asked, “What are you trying to get out of this?”

You froze. “What?”

His expression remained guarded, a hint of wariness behind his fever-clouded eyes. “You’re like this—helping, acting nice. You must be after something.”

A heavy pause.

Then, you let out a sigh, rubbing your temples. “Why do you always look at everything that way?”

Geo didn’t answer.

You shook your head. “I didn’t do this because I had to. I did it because I wanted to.”

Your words hung in the air between you.

Geo’s lips parted slightly as if he wanted to argue, but no words came out. His mind raced, trying to place this feeling—the way his stomach twisted at your sincerity, the way his chest ached with something unfamiliar.

You looked at him, your voice softer this time. “You need to stop this.”

Geo swallowed, his throat dry. “Stop what?”

You exhaled, eyes searching his. “Pushing people away.”

Silence.

For once, Geo didn’t have a quick, snide remark.

He just… sat there. Looking at you.

And for the first time, in a long time, he felt something he couldn’t quite define.

You picked up the glass of water from the bedside table, the cool condensation wetting your fingers. Geo was still staring at you, his expression unreadable, fever-glazed eyes watching your every movement as if trying to decipher something.

“Drink this,” you said simply, holding out the glass.

He didn’t move at first, just kept looking at you with that strange, lingering gaze. You sighed, pushing the glass closer. “Geo.”

Finally, he took it, his fingers brushing against yours for a fleeting second before he pulled away. He brought the glass to his lips, drinking slowly, deliberately. You watched him, making sure he didn’t do something stupid like refuse halfway.

The tension from earlier still hung in the air, thick and heavy, but you decided to ignore it.

As soon as he finished, you placed the empty glass back on the table and grabbed your bag. “Alright,” you said, standing up. “You should rest. I’ll be going now.”

Geo was silent.

You turned to leave, but just as your hand reached for the door, his voice stopped you.

“…Why?”

You paused, glancing back. “Why what?”

He shifted slightly under the blanket, his aquamarine eyes dark and serious despite the fever’s haze. “Why are you doing this?”

You exhaled, shaking your head. “I already told you.”

“I want to hear it again.”

You rolled your eyes. “Because I wanted to, not because I had to.”

Geo didn’t respond right away. He just kept looking at you like he was trying to unravel something in his head. His lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say more, but then he hesitated, gaze flickering away.

You waited for a moment, but when he didn’t say anything else, you turned back toward the door.

“…Get better soon, Geo.”

The next morning, you found yourself running through the familiar streets, the cold morning air stinging your lungs. You didn’t even think about it—you just ran, feet pounding against the pavement, until you reached Geo’s apartment complex.

Your heart was racing, though you weren’t sure if it was from running or from something else entirely.

As you reached his door, you saw him—already outside, dressed casually in a hoodie and jeans, locking his door.

You skidded to a stop, panting. “What the—? Geo! What are you doing?”

He glanced at you, unimpressed. “Going to the store.”

Your brows furrowed. “The store?” You stepped closer, grabbing his wrist. “You literally had a fever yesterday! You should still be resting!”

He clicked his tongue, trying to pull his arm away, but you tightened your grip and pushed him back inside. “Nope. You’re not going anywhere.”

Geo scowled, but before he could argue, you had already shoved him toward his bed, forcing him to sit. He gave you a glare that could probably kill a lesser person, but you weren’t fazed. You grabbed his wrist, checking his temperature with the back of your hand.

Normal. No more fever.

You let out a sigh of relief, but your hands stayed on him just a second longer than necessary. “You’re better now,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

Geo stayed quiet, watching you with a strange expression. He seemed to be lost in thought, his eyes unreadable as he studied your face.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

“…Thank you.”

You froze. “Huh?”

“I said thank you,” he repeated, voice quieter this time, like it physically hurt him to say it.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. You stared at him, feeling like you had just witnessed something rare—something no one else had ever seen before.

Geo, saying thank you.

The moment felt too surreal.

“I thought you hated this kind of thing,” you finally managed to say.

“I do,” he replied. His gaze flickered away for a second, as if debating whether or not he should keep talking. “…I hate people who go out of their way to show how big their hearts are. People who want to prove something by helping others. Love letters, fake kindness, people who think they’re saints.” His voice darkened. “People like my brother.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden mention of his brother, but before you could ask, he continued.

“…But you’re different.” His eyes met yours again, calmer now. “You didn’t have any ulterior motives. You just did it.” He exhaled, shaking his head. “So, I don’t mind thanking you.”

Your face felt warm.

You swallowed, gripping your hoodie’s sleeves. “You’re acting weird,” you blurted out, trying to lighten the moment. “Maybe your fever isn’t gone.”

You reached up, placing your hand on his forehead without thinking. But before you could even process the warmth of his skin against your palm, Geo’s hand shot up, catching your wrist mid-air.

“I’m fine,” he said. His grip was firm, his touch lingering just a second too long.

You felt heat crawl up your neck.

Panic kicked in. “R-Right! Okay! Uh—” You yanked your wrist back, stumbling over your words. “Then, uh, I’ll just—go! Yeah! Bye!”

And before you could embarrass yourself further, you spun around and bolted out of his apartment.

As you ran down the street, your heart was hammering against your ribs, your face burning.

And then—

“Hahahaha—”

A laugh bubbled out of your throat, uncontrollable, giddy.

You clutched your chest, still breathless from running.

You really, really liked him.

You kept running, but your brain was running even faster.

Why?

Why the hell was my heart beating so fast? To him? Of all people?

You didn’t slow down until you turned the corner, out of sight from his apartment. Then, without thinking, you smacked your own forehead.

"Get a grip!" you hissed to yourself, pacing in a frantic circle. "This is Geo we’re talking about! He’s an asshole! He’s rude, cynical, hates people—"

Your voice trailed off as your heartbeat betrayed you again, thudding against your ribs like a traitor.

You groaned, dragging your hands down your face.

Why did he have to say it like that?

You didn’t have any ulterior motives. You just did it.

That wasn’t something Geo would normally say. He wasn’t the type to acknowledge kindness, let alone thank someone for it.

And that look in his eyes…

You groaned again, this time smacking your forehead against the nearest lamppost.

Maybe you were the one with the fever.

Shaking off the thought, you forced yourself to keep walking, determined to shove whatever this was deep, deep down.

But your fingers still tingled where he had grabbed your wrist.

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