Chapter Text
when a man loves a woman, he brings her flowers and confesses his love to her. or, if he’s born in the modern world, he might just text her something eloquent like, “ hey, i want you lol. ” but if you’re suguru geto, you let tarot cards take the wheel— literally .
allow one to explain.
see, geto isn’t exactly an atheist. he believes in higher powers, just unconventional ones. namely, the cheapest tarot deck he impulse-bought during a 2 a.m. existential crisis. initially, he thought it was all nonsense until he pulled a random card one day, and boom —it was the tower. later that week, his microwave exploded.
from then on, he never questioned the cards again.
fast-forward to now: geto has become a full-blown tarot enthusiast. not only does he offer readings for spare cash (because be so for real right now, enlightenment isn’t free), but he also uses the cards to make most of his decisions. thinking of switching shampoo brands? better pull a card. deciding between ramen or sushi for dinner? the hanged man says to wait and order nothing— oops , now he’s just hungry. naturally, he consults the cards for the big things too—like love. and this is where you come in.
he met you at the library. a rom-com-level meet-cute where you helped him pick up the stack of books he’d dropped because he was too busy arguing with a ten of swords card about whether his day was ruined or just mildly inconvenient. from that moment on, you became his muse, his star (literally, he pulled that card the next day and nearly fainted). but here’s the catch: geto doesn’t just pine over you in the normal way. no, no. every interaction with you has to be sanctioned by the cards first.
want to say hi? better shuffle the deck and see if the lovers comes up. want to ask you out? he needs at least the sun for good vibes and the two of cups for confirmation. unfortunately, his last reading told him to “ embrace patience ” because the hermit popped up— twice .
to his credit, geto is fully committed to this tarot lifestyle. he even gets creative with the interpretations. one time, the cards said he’d encounter a " pig ," which he thought meant an actual pet pig was coming his way. turns out, it was just pork belly ramen. but let’s get back to you. every time he sees you, he tries to decipher what the cards are trying to tell him. are you his queen of cups, emotionally available and empathetic? or are you secretly the high priestess, hiding mysteries he’s yet to uncover? (spoiler: you’re just a normal person trying to borrow a book, but he doesn’t know that.)
but let’s take a moment to shift focus from our friendly neighborhood king of wands (that’s geto, by the way, for the tarot illiterate) and zero in on you. because, bless your heart, you’ve got no time for the mystical nonsense of divination.
it’s not that you hate tarot or people who swear by it. it’s just… it’s never worked for you. every time a flower-crown-wearing oracle pops up on your fyp, telling you to “ like, comment, and share this reading so the universe will bless you with abundance and good fortune ,” you do it. and guess what? the universe does not bless you. no windfall of cash, no twin flame reunion, and absolutely no lucky day on the horizon. instead, you’re stuck in a perpetual cycle of disappointment and thinking, am i cursed? or is this just capitalism?
so, when you bump into a guy muttering about the ten of swords in the college library, the sheer absurdity of the moment almost makes you laugh out loud. you help him pick up his books from the floor (because you’re not a monster), all while internally rolling your eyes. who even takes tarot this seriously? your brain whispers. but hey, it’s not like you’re ever going to see this weirdo again, right?
wrong .
enter the house party. directed by none other than the notorious gojo satoru, who probably pulled the fool for party planning and ran with it. naturally, the entire student body is there, including you, begrudgingly clutching a cup of what is probably alcohol but tastes like regret. you’re halfway through debating whether it’s worth sticking around when you spot him. yes, him . the library lad. and if you thought he was strange before, tonight he’s decked out in what can only be described as a “ witchy ” fit, complete with crystal necklaces and the kind of rings that scream don’t ask me about my birth chart unless you’re ready for a dissertation.
you’re just about to turn and flee when, of course , he spots you. he lights up like the sun card upright, and you can see the moment he decides to approach. fantastic . this is your life now. “hey,” he says, and you can tell he’s trying to act cool. “do you believe in fate?”
oh, for the love of—
“no,” you deadpan, taking a sip of your regret juice. “but i do believe in bad luck, which is what brought me here tonight.” he laughs, and to your horror, it’s kinda cute. “well, maybe that’s just the wheel of fortune turning. what goes down must come up.”
you raise an eyebrow. “is that tarot-speak for ‘ this party sucks ’?”
“more like, ‘ the spirits sent me here for a reason ,’” he replies, holding up a deck of tarot cards like they’re his personal VIP pass. you groan, wondering if this is punishment for every time you ignored those scammy fyp readings. the universe works in mysterious (and frankly annoying) ways.
first off, geto would like to dedicate this evening’s award for “ biggest asshole ” to his childhood friend and eternal tormentor, gojo satoru, who claimed this was a fancy dress party. yes, fancy dress . not a house party. and like an idiot , geto believed him. hence the ensemble: the crystal necklaces, the dramatic rings, the black turtleneck that screamed “ mystical bachelor #1. ” he looked like halloween and a witch convention had a messy breakup and he was the collateral damage. and the kicker? the tarot cards stuffed into his bag. because apparently, those were his ticket into this party. gojo had threatened—no, promised —that he’d bar geto from entering his own damn best friend’s party unless he showed up prepared to do discounted tarot readings. because nothing screams “ good fortune ” like drunken frat boys demanding to know their future while spilling beer on your king of pentacles.
but before geto can fully spiral into regret, he spots you. you, across the room, holding a red solo cup like it’s your last lifeline in a sea of chaos. suddenly, the LED strip lights above seem to beam down like the sun on its brightest spring day, and he’s pretty sure he hears birds chirping (which is actually just gojo’s bose speaker blasting some god-awful remix). in this moment, geto feels something he hasn’t felt in a while: hope .
then he opens his mouth.
“the spirits sent me here for a reason,” he blurts out, voice brimming with… what’s the opposite of confidence? panic? regret? whatever it is, it’s not working.
he sees your eyebrow twitch. not raise— twitch . your eyes dart everywhere but at him, and he feels the metaphorical ten of swords stab his pride, one blade at a time. internally, his brain is screaming: really? “the spirits”? you couldn’t think of anything cooler? oh my god, you’re a loser. loser, loser, loser.
before he can even try to recover from the self-inflicted verbal disaster, the karaoke mic crackles to life, and a familiar voice echoes through the room. “geto suguru, report to the center hall!” gojo’s voice booms, loud and obnoxious. “your clients are waiting, my guy!”
clients? oh no.
geto freezes. you glance at him, your expression hovering somewhere between pity and mild secondhand embarrassment. internally, he’s spiraling: clients!? oh great. perfect . now i get to embarrass myself in front of you and half the drunk population of campus.
“don’t keep us waiting, mr. magician!” gojo cackles, clearly delighted with himself. geto trudges toward the center of the room, tarot cards in hand, sending a silent prayer to the universe: dear spirits, if you’re real, strike gojo down with lightning. or at least make him choke on his stupid mic cord. please. but no lightning comes. only more LED lights and the weight of his own humiliation.
the music screeched to an abrupt halt, cutting off mid-beat to usher in what gojo dramatically called “ the immersive experience .”
immersive, my ass, geto thought bitterly, sneaking a glare at his white-haired tormentor. to make matters worse, gojo was now skulking over by the speaker, queuing up redbone by childish gambino, apparently convinced it was the anthem for “ spooky tarot vibes. ” geto’s fingers itched to throw the nearest ashtray at gojo’s ridiculously smug face but, alas , violence would have to wait. he had a job to do, courtesy of said smug face.
as he settled at the glorified low-rise table-turned-“ dias ,” he noticed a mix of amused faces, skeptical stares, and outright curiosity from the crowd. and among them, there was you. hovering near the edge, arms crossed, your expression was a mix of intrigue and i’m too cool for this but let’s see what happens anyway . and because geto was both cursed and stupid, he immediately started overthinking: wait, why are you here? are you here to judge me? no, that’s dumb. maybe you’re into tarot. oh god, what if you’re into tarot? does that make us soulmates? focus, suguru.
“first victim—i mean guest , is… nanamiiinnn kenntoooo! ” gojo’s voice boomed through the mic, dragging geto out of his internal spiral. and lo and behold, it was nanami himself.
nanami kento, aka mr. ‘i-wear-a-suit-to-class ,’ the guy who looked like he’d walked straight out of a finance magazine and into a frat party by accident. the fact that nanami was even here was baffling, but rumor had it he helped budget this whole thing. (which explained the alcohol tasting suspiciously cheap, considering half the budget went into walnuts being served as snacks.) he approached the table like he was heading into a board meeting, eyes sharp, posture straighter than an arrow. the man looked ready to audit geto’s soul.
as nanami sat down for his reading, his usual stoic expression firmly in place, geto shuffled the deck with practiced ease. “to make this as accurate as possible,” geto began, trying to match nanami’s serious tone, “it’s best if you touch the deck briefly. it helps with energy transfer.”
nanami raised a skeptical eyebrow but reached out, his hand hovering over the cards for a moment before he placed two fingers lightly on the top of the deck. the touch was so precise and deliberate that it looked more like he was testing the temperature of a cup of tea than connecting with his fate. geto suppressed a grin. “wow, nanami, really channeling all that emotional investment.”
“i don’t make a habit of emotionally investing in cards,” nanami replied dryly, retracting his hand. “if this reading goes poorly, i’ll hold you accountable, not the deck.”
“well, if the spirits hear that,” geto quipped, starting to lay the cards out, “they’re going to make sure your future includes nothing but overripe bananas and missed train schedules.”
“you’re lucky i don’t believe in spirits,” nanami deadpanned, though his gaze flicked to the first card with the faintest hint of curiosity.
“alright,” geto said, forcing a grin as he shuffled his deck. “what can i do for you? career? love life? deep existential crisis?”
“career,” nanami replied crisply, sitting down on one of the pillows like it was a very uncomfortable chair.
“classic.” geto nodded, laying the deck out for nanami to cut. “alright, the cards are ready to speak. let’s see what the spirits have in store for you.” as he flipped the first card, geto’s brain scrambled to process the sight: three of pentacles. okay, teamwork, collaboration. he could work with this.
“looks like you’re about to enter a new partnership,” geto said, his voice smooth and confident. “something involving… hard work, shared goals… a passion project, maybe?” nanami raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, geto panicked. was this guy about to call him out as a fraud? but then, the second card came up: the empress. geto let out a quiet sigh of relief.
“ah, abundance,” he continued, leaning into his role. “this project? it’s going to bring a lot of growth. creativity, maybe even something related to… food?” he hesitated for a split second before committing. “yeah, i’m seeing something culinary. like a bakery or—”
“a bakery?” nanami interrupted, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly.
geto froze. oh no. did he just completely miss the mark?
“uh… yes, a bakery,” he repeated, trying to sound confident. “does that resonate?”
nanami stared at him for a moment, then nodded. slowly .
“i’ve just started working part-time at a french bakery near campus.”
the room exploded . people started laughing, cheering, and hollering like geto had just predicted the apocalypse. even you, standing at the edge of the crowd, cracked a smile. geto barely kept his jaw from dropping. internally, he was screaming: no fucking way. i pulled that out of my ass. oh my god. the spirits are real. nanami, ever composed, simply stood, nodded once in approval, and walked off like this was just another day in the life of kento “ bakery boy ” nanami.
as the crowd settled down, geto slumped in his seat, trying to recover. his mind raced: okay, that went better than expected. maybe i can survive this. maybe even impress you. wait, are you impressed? i need to see if you’re impressed. he glanced at you, and there it was—that little amused smile, like you couldn’t believe what you’d just witnessed. and for the first time all night, geto felt like maybe he wasn’t a total loser.
the next poor soul—or menace, really—was shiu kong. and shiu, being no better than any average man, sauntered up to the makeshift “ dias ” with a cigarette dangling from his lips and promptly dumped all the ash from it onto geto’s carefully shuffled deck. geto froze mid-shuffle, staring down at his now-defiled cards like they’d been personally insulted. internally, he was screaming: did you seriously just ashen my pentacles? oh my god, shiu, i hope the spirits tell you your house will get haunted.
“relax, geto,” shiu drawled, clearly enjoying himself. “it’s just a little ash. adds character.”
“yeah? well, let’s see what the spirits think about your ‘ character ,’” geto muttered, giving the cards a mournful dust-off before proceeding. the first card flipped: the devil. oh, the irony.
“so,” geto began, deadpan, “looks like you’ve got some… business ventures coming up. something a little… unconventional?” the crowd leaned in, murmuring in anticipation. shiu raised an eyebrow, amused but also intrigued.
geto flipped the second card: the seven of cups.
“choices,” he said, tapping the card for effect. “you’ve got a lot of options ahead of you. but, uh… not all of them are exactly moral. or legal.” the crowd erupted, half in laughter, half in knowing cheers. shiu smirked, leaning back like he was the main character in a crime drama. “huh,” he said, feigning innocence. “well, that’s interesting.”
but when geto flipped the third card—the ace of pentacles—the room lost it . “looks like this… uh, deal is going to be quite lucrative,” geto said, trying to keep a straight face.
the crowd howled, people slapping their knees and hollering like this was the best stand-up routine they’d ever seen. gojo, however, had to be physically restrained by nanami and two others as he lunged at shiu, shouting, “WHERE IS IT, SHIU? TELL ME WHERE THE GREEN GODDESS LIVES!”
shiu simply winked, flicked his cigarette butt into an ashtray (finally), and strolled off the dias like a kingpin leaving his empire.
next up was toji zenin, a man so laid-back and unbothered he might as well have been horizontal. he approached the table with all the grace of a lion stalking prey, cracking his neck as he dropped onto the pillow like he’d been asked to fight someone instead of getting his fortune read. “alright, zenin,” geto said, shuffling the cards. “what do you want to know? career? love life? existential dread?”
“future,” toji replied simply, his deep voice making it sound way cooler than it had any right to.
the first card: the lovers.
“interesting,” geto said, glancing up at toji. “looks like there’s a big relationship in your future. something life-changing.”
toji smirked. “yeah? tell me more.”
geto flipped the second card: the sun.
“oh wow,” geto muttered, mostly to himself. “this relationship is going to bring you a lot of joy. looks like… a family, maybe? marriage? ”
the crowd oohed , leaning in closer.
and then came the third card: the tower.
“oh,” geto said, pausing. “uh, okay. so, there might be some… challenges along the way. upheaval. a few bumps in the road.”
toji just shrugged. “i’ll handle it.”
the crowd cheered, someone shouting, “ family man! ” as toji stood, looking oddly pleased with himself. geto sat back, shaking his head. spirits, give me strength.
just as the crowd began to settle, gojo, ever the dramatic shit-stirrer, snatched the mic again. “ladies and gentlemen, we’ve saved the best for last!” he boomed, pointing a very theatrical finger in your direction.
“YOU! come on down!”
the entire room turned to stare at you, and suddenly, you were the main character in your own personal nightmare. “uh, no thanks,” you called back, waving him off. but gojo was having none of it. “don’t be shy! the spirits are calling for you! geto, back me up here!” geto, caught off guard, looked at you and then back at gojo. “uh…” he started, scratching the back of his neck. you sighed, muttering a quiet curse under your breath as you made your way to the “ dias ,” your steps heavy with regret. this was going to be great .
as you made your way to the dias, geto felt his life flash before his eyes—not the whole thing, mind you, just the highlights: stumbling across the cheapest tarot deck at 2 a.m. during a sleep-deprived existential crisis, spiraling into a tarot obsession because he accidentally predicted his microwave exploding, and somehow ending up here, in this exact moment, facing you , the literal love of his life, thanks to gojo’s meddling. screw the power of friendship, he thought bitterly. his “ friend ” was the reason he was sitting cross-legged on a glorified coffee table, dressed like the head of a coven, with his dignity hanging by a single thread.
but then it hit him. wait… can i rig this reading?
the idea was tempting. he could just “ interpret ” the cards however he wanted. twist the results. make it seem like the spirits themselves were shipping the two of you.
except.
except.
he winced, imagining the sheer karmic hell that would rain down upon him if he tried to scam the spirits. knowing his luck, they’d make him the next hanged man— literally . so, when you finally sat down across from him and asked, casually, for a love reading (a LOVE reading????), geto swallowed hard and prayed to every higher power he could think of that the cards would be merciful.
the first card flipped: the knight of cups.
okay, not bad.
“so,” geto began, trying to sound confident and not like he was screaming internally. “the knight of cups suggests a romantic figure in your life. someone… sensitive, charming, maybe a little dreamy. they could be coming towards you—or they’re already here.” he glanced up at you, hoping for some kind of reaction, but you were too busy looking over at…
wait a second.
you weren’t looking at him. you were looking at… choso .
his heart sank. oh, you have got to be kidding me.
to be fair, he sort of understood the confusion. both he and choso had long dark hair (his sleek and tied back, choso’s styled into two distinct buns that somehow worked), and they were both tall with a quiet, brooding vibe. but choso? really?
before he could process the betrayal, he flipped the second card: the star.
“ah,” he said, forcing himself to focus. “the star indicates hope and inspiration. this person might bring healing into your life. they’re someone who stands out, who you’re drawn to in a special way.” again, your gaze flicked to choso, who was sitting across the room with his arms crossed, looking like a goth prince brooding over an edgar allan poe poem.
dear spirits, are you messing with me on purpose?
and then came the third card: the two of cups.
geto’s hands nearly slipped. oh, come on.
“the two of cups,” he said, clearing his throat. “this is… uh… a card of partnership. mutual feelings. a connection that could grow into something deeper.”
your eyes lit up. “wow, that’s so accurate!”
his heart soared for half a second before you turned to your friend and whispered, not so quietly, “do you think he means choso?”
geto’s soul left his body.
what part of ‘sensitive and charming’ screams choso?! he wanted to yell. okay, sure, the guy had his moments, but choso’s idea of romantic charm was probably something like offering someone his last cup of ramen without saying a word. to make matters worse, choso, sensing the attention, looked up from where he was sitting. his head tilted slightly, a single brow raised in confusion, and— oh, god —he gave you a small nod.
no, no, no, don’t encourage this! geto thought, panicking.
“well,” he said, attempting to recover, “the cards are open to interpretation. sometimes they’re symbolic, pointing to qualities rather than an exact person…”
but you weren’t listening anymore, too busy whispering excitedly to your friend about how much sense this all made. meanwhile, geto sat there, defeated, mentally drafting a resignation letter to the spirits. dear divine forces, i quit. i can’t do this anymore. please find someone else to deal with my romantic disasters. sincerely, suguru geto.