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soaps-mohawk · 3 months

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 7 : Sweet Strawberry

Summary: You're not a soldier, you're just an omega. You shouldn't have to remind them of that, yet you find yourself needing to. Price makes it up to you in the best way possible.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, angst, panic, fluff, suggestive content, terrible flirting

A/N: Not entirely happy with it but it's done and I can move on from this one. I struggled so much with this chapter omg. Also, I just wanted to make it clear that I am not from the UK, I've never been to the UK, I'm simply going off of prior knowledge and what Google can tell me. So, if there's any inaccuracies, I am so sorry.

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You’re expecting the knock when it comes. You’d been standing in front of your door for almost five minutes, and you get it open almost before he’s finished, hand still raised. He gives no sign that betrays his surprise, if he feels any at all, instead he simply looks you over before turning on his heel and marching towards the door.

You close your door behind you, slipping down the hallway after him. It’s raining again, though you had prepared for that, flipping the hood of your jacket up as you hurry after Ghost. He threatens to disappear in the darkness of morning, slipping between the street lamps like a specter. It’s not often you get to see the true danger in them, the threats that they pose, the things that make them good at their job. You can imagine how many on his opposing side have been caught unawares by the way he seems to flow with the darkness around him.

You are significantly less graceful and quiet, feet slapping the wet pavement as you speed walk to keep up with the giant alpha. You can almost imagine the look on his face as you plod along behind him. If your lives depended on your silence at this moment, well, it wouldn’t entirely have been your fault. If he didn’t walk so fucking fast...

He’s at least courteous enough to hold the door open for you, though perhaps that was simply something that was deeply ingrained in him. Manners that become unconscious practice, even when you despise the person you’re with. He leads you down the hall towards the practice room again, unlocking it and flipping on the lights. He empties his pockets and removes his shoes and sweatshirt, before moving to one of the punching bags.

You can already predict what your lesson today will entail. Your knuckles have almost completely healed since your little fit a week ago. You quickly strip off your jacket and toe off your wet shoes, moving to join him without having to be told.

“Do you know how to wrap your hands?” He asks, holding out two rolls of hand wraps.

“No.” You shake your head. It’s not entirely true. They had shown you once while you were with the CIA, but that had been weeks ago and you’re sure you’ve forgotten the right way to do it. Even if you tried, he’d likely sigh and do it himself anyway.

He lets out a breath, pocketing one of the wraps before grabbing your right wrist. His hands are just as rough as you remember them being the day you punched Corporal Allen, calluses dragging against your skin as he meticulously wraps the fabric around your fingers. You watch him, trying to memorize how to do it in hopes that maybe, eventually, you’ll surprise him and manage it yourself.

He finishes your hands quickly before wrapping his own. You flex your hands, trying to get used to the feeling of the wraps. They’re not too tight, shockingly. You had half expected him to choke your fingers until they’re purple just because. But, you also know Price will be looking for any mark or sign of injury as soon as he sees you at breakfast. The thought of him laying into Ghost for even a bruise as your stomach twisting, and not in a bad way.

“Make a fist.” Ghost says, crossing his arms as he stands in front of you.

You stare at his bulging muscles for a second too long, quickly curling your fingers as your face warms.

He takes hold of your hand, inspecting your fist. “Not bad.”

“I did grow up with brothers.” You murmur.

“Did they ever hit you?” He asks as he turns you to face the boxing bag.

“Only playfully.” You say, missing the subtle edge to his voice. “Dad would have caved their heads in if they ever tried.”

You can’t see the way he’s staring at you as he stands slightly behind you, but you can feel his gaze as it lingers for just a second longer than you expected it to. You’re not sure if maybe he doesn’t believe you, or maybe he knows there’s more to the story. You’ve hardly spoken about your family since your arrival, but they seemed to accept the fact that they haven’t been your family for years now as a valid reason.

“Get into your fighting stance.” He finally says, moving around you as you take the stance you had perfected last training session. “Good.” He says, looking you over. “Now throw a punch at the bag.”

You squeeze your fists, imagining Corporal Allen’s face on the bag before you throw a punch, barely managing to move the bag.

“Punches like that are what will get you hurt.” Ghost says, extending your arm. “You can throw your weight, which is good. That’s why you were able to throw Allen off his feet. You’re asking for a broken arm, though. Keep your arm flat and facing downwards through the entire punch. Aim with the knuckles and twist your lower body for support.”

He throws a punch at the bag, the sound of his fist hitting it loud, and you watch the bag swing back and forth violently. He could probably punch through you if he wanted to. Your pitiful punch wouldn’t even stun him.

He stops the bag from swinging, having you throw repeated punches at it. He fixes your form and technique as you go, teaching you different kinds of punches. Your arms quickly get tired, and you know you’re going to be sore again. Maybe you should take up some weight lifting or something. You could ask Soap to help you.

You go until your arms feel like they're going to fall off, your shoulders burning. “I can't anymore.” You whine, breathing heavily from the exertion of throwing punches for 30 minutes.

“You have to learn to push through the pain.” He says, looming over you. “You think in a fight, everyone will just stop because your arms are tired? Or you're a little sore?”

He has a point.

You take half a step back as he invades your space, leaning down close to you. “If they're out for blood, they won't even stop even as you're bleeding out in front of them.” His eyes are dark, biting into you, speaking volumes of his knowledge and experience. You wonder how many times he's been in that situation, how many times he's had to fight quite literally for his life. He steps away from you, moving towards the center of the mat. “Come on. I'll teach you some combinations.”

You don't want to follow him. You want to curl up in a corner and nap for the next four hours. You don't doubt he'll find a way to force you, though, so you move to the center of the mat with a sigh.

He teaches you different combinations, working through them over and over. You're sloppy, mixing up which punch is which, which move means what. It only gets worse as you get more and more tired, but Ghost is relentless.

Finally after almost an hour and a half of training, he calls it. Your legs are shaking and you can barely lift your arms to unravel the wraps from around your hands. You sink onto the floor, laying out flat on the padding as you try to catch your breath.

“Come on.” Ghost says, lacing up his shoes. “You'll have time to shower before breakfast if we get back now.”

“Wait. Just gimme a minute.” You breathe, not even sure you have the willpower to get up from the floor, much less the muscle power.

He lets out a sigh before approaching you, bending down to slip his hands under your arms. “On your feet, soldier.”

He lifts you easily, far too easily. Your legs shake, nearly giving out as you're forced onto them. You pout, ignoring the ache in your bones as you're forced upright.

“‘M not a soldier.” You murmur.

“In here with me, you are. You want to learn to fight, you get treated just like everyone else I've taught.” He says, glowering down at you. “Now get your shoes on and let's go.”

Your brows pull into a frown, but you do as he says, slipping your shoes back on and your jacket. You had hoped perhaps he would have a little mercy, given your status and inexperience, but it seems you're not even being awarded that. You know part of it is his revenge for you invading his protective circle around Soap, for kissing Soap in front of him.

The frown doesn't leave your face as you follow him back to the barracks, having to almost run to keep up with him.

“You look tired.”

“I am. I had training with Ghost again this morning.”

“How is that going?”

“It's hard.” You admit, sinking back in your chair. “He's hard on me. He sees me as a soldier, not an omega.”

“Have you brought this up to him?” Dr. Keller asks, crossing her feet as she relaxes on the couch across from you.

You nod. “Yeah. He said I have to push through it, because if I wind up in a real fight, they won't go easy on me.”

“Well, I can’t say he’s wrong about that. But, that’s still no excuse.” Dr. Keller tilts her head at you. “You could bring it up to Captain Price. He is your pack alpha, and he’s also Lieutenant Riley’s. I don’t doubt he’d bring it up to him on your behalf.”

He would, but you don’t really want to stir the pot in that way. The last thing you need to do is become a tattle-tail. It’s quiet between you for a few moments, Dr. Keller shuffling her papers as you mark a clear end to that conversation.

“How did you do on your assignment? I see you’re wearing a different sweatshirt this morning.” She says, eyeing you.

You’re wearing Price’s sweatshirt, the one he gifted you. You’ve been wearing it almost every day, his scent still clinging to the fabric. Your face warms as she stares at you, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, but...I didn’t ask for this one. Price gave it to me after I told him about where my other one came from. I uh...I kissed Soap. And Gaz.”

“Oh?” Her brows raise, and she writes something down on the paper. Your face warms even more as you watch her pen move with every letter. You can only imagine what she’s putting down. “Is that something you wanted? I know we talked briefly about it last time.” She says.

You nod. “Yes. I did want it. I...I also...kneeled...with Price...Did a couple times actually...”

Dr. Keller’s mouth opens in surprise, her eyes shining as she looks at you. “You did? That’s huge! That’s an incredible development! Did you initiate, or did he?”

“I did.” You say bashfully, sinking back further into the chair. “Both times.”

Dr. Keller smiles at you, looking almost proud. “This is a big step in the right direction. How did it go? Were you able to relax?”

You nod. “Yeah. It was nice. He was...gentle. He did it right.”

“Good. How did you do coming down from it? I know it can be intense and difficult for some omegas.” She asks.

You shrug. “Fine. I felt it a bit the morning after, but it wasn’t too bad. I fell asleep on him both times.”

“Oh?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Did you stay with him?”

You shake your head. “No, Gaz took me to my room both times.”

“Good. That’s good practice, for when your heat comes. Shows how much trust they have in each other.”

You hadn’t really thought of that. There was a lot of trust involved in omega’s heats. Omegas have to trust their alphas to take care of them while they’re blind with insatiable need, but both alpha and omega have to trust a beta to keep them alive. Your heat will trigger Price’s rut and make him lose control for a while, and it will be up to Gaz to keep you both fed and hydrated. He’ll be the one to help you both afterwards as well.

“Have you started nesting yet?” Dr. Keller asks.

You shake your head. “No. Don’t feel any drive to either.”

Dr. Keller hums as she writes something down. “Well, it has only been two weeks. Though, perhaps if you can manage to ask for some things to make your space more comfortable, that might help ease you into it.”

You chew on your lip, tugging at the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You know she’s right. Until you’re comfortable and feel safe enough, you won’t feel the drive to nest. You’ll need to nest before your heat arrives. Otherwise, it’ll cause issues for both you and Price.

“When...when should I be worried?” You ask.

“Hmm...” Dr. Keller looks at her calendar. “If you’re not feeling any sort of drive to nest by our next appointment, then I’d say we may need to consider using some exercises to help jump start it.”

“Exercises?” You ask warily.

“All easy things.” She reassures you. “Things like scent introductions, tactile explorations, and some bonding exercises might be helpful as well.” She writes something down on a sticky note. “I’ll explain everything in detail and you’ll get to choose whether you want to do any of it or not. No one’s going to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, alright?”

Tears prick your eyes at her words, and you furiously blink them back. It’s a little late for that kind of sentiment. Your presence here alone was thanks to a long line of people forcing you to do things you’re not comfortable with. It was easy to get lost in the excitement and the emotions of bonding with a pack, easy to forget that you would never have chosen this place had you ever been given the option to choose.

You would have gone far from the military, far from this kind of life. It’s your duty to bond with an alpha, but what if you don’t want to? What if it’s all a front, and as soon as you’re claimed the curtains rise and suddenly everything is different? What if Price isn’t as kind as you’ve come to believe him? Just one squeeze too tightly around the back of your neck while you’re kneeling and everything would change.

How easily he could take everything from you.

“You want to talk about what’s going on in your head right now?” Dr. Keller asks, breaking the silence between you two.

You hadn’t even noticed you’d been staring off into space, lost in your thoughts. Of course she knows something’s changed. She’s spent years learning the ins and outs of omegas and all the secrets you can only imagine. She’s probably just as in tune with subtle changes as the four well trained soldiers that make up your new pack. Maybe even more in tune with them.

You shake your head, keeping your gaze on the floor.

“Remember nothing shared in this room leaves this room. It’ll always only be between us.” She says softly.

You’re panicking. You can feel the pressure rising within you. You’re like a grenade and someone is about to pull the pin. You’re afraid you’ll spill everything to her, afraid you’ll let out things you’ve successfully kept buried for years and years. Things you’ve left behind, things you’ve had to move on from. Things you can’t afford to let out now.

“I’d like to be done now.” You silently curse the way your voice shakes.

Dr. Keller’s brows pull into a frown but she nods. “Okay.” She slips her papers into her notebook before standing. “Let me grab my keys.”

You stand as she moves to her desk, grabbing her keys from the drawer. She leads you from her office, thankfully staying quiet as you walk through the rain towards the barracks. You’re still panicking, the turmoil inside you probably projecting the sour scent across the entire courtyard but you don’t care. You can’t.

“Remember, if you ever need anything, I’m usually in my office.” Dr. Keller says as she drops you off at the door.

You feel guilty as you hurry to your room, shoes squeaking on the tile. You feel bad for cutting the appointment off early, you feel bad for feeling the way you do. Later you’ll be grateful for Dr. Keller respecting your boundaries and not pushing, for following through with her promise and letting you be in control of the appointment.

Right now you don’t care. Right now you can’t care. You’re too lost in your turmoil, the bitter scent of your distress seeping out from under the locked door.

“...can ye talk tae me, hen? Let me know yer alright?”

The soft voice coming through the closed door pulls you out from your burrow under the thin blanket. You blink blearily at your phone, trying to see the time. It’s just a little past the normal time you go to lunch with them. How long have they been knocking on the door?

“Come on, lass.” Soap’s voice comes through the door again. “I dinnae want tae have tae kick in the door.”

You force yourself out from under the blanket, pocketing your phone before quickly moving to your door. You throw it open, Soap’s eyes immediately scanning you as you rub tiredly at your eyes. You don’t doubt he’d kick in your door if he felt he had to.

“Sorry,” You yawn. “I was asleep.”

His eyebrows raise as he stares down at you. “Ye were asleep? Ye weren’t kidding about bein’ a heavy sleeper.” He leads you from the barracks, crossing the courtyard towards the mess.

“One time, when I was about two or three, my dad took us to some demonstration on base.” You say as you begin walking to the mess with him. “I fell asleep about halfway through and slept through a howitzer going off.”

Soap lets out a laugh so loud it echoes in the courtyard. “Ye slept through a howitzer?”

You nod. “Yup. My dad never let me live it down. I heard it all the time. ‘You’ll have to try hard to wake her, she slept through a howitzer once.’”

Soap chuckles, leading you into the mess. “Ye are a deep sleeper.”

You shrug. “I did say so. My phone will wake me up though. Alarms, calls.”

“I’ll keep tha’ in mind.” He says as he guides you through the line, making your tray for you.

You sit between Price and Gaz as usual, feeling a bit on edge still despite your nap after your appointment. You hadn’t gotten to sleep for very long, not nearly long enough to clear your head completely. You know they can tell, Gaz slowly shifting closer and closer to you, Price’s gaze flickering to you out of the corner of his eye every so often. Even Ghost’s eyes pass over you every so often as they sweep across the mess.

You wonder if he feels responsible.

You hope he does.

Soap walks you back to the barracks after lunch and you spend the afternoon burrowed under your blanket again. You’re exhausted and sore after a long morning of training and your appointment. You wish you could sink back into sleep, let the emotions pass without you having to feel them, but you’re too awake now. Too aware of them as they prickle in the back of your mind.

Dinner passes without incident, but you can’t ignore the feelings still stirring within you. You feel agitated and on edge, not even pacing your room helping you. You let out a breath before you put your slippers on, slipping out of your door. You make your way down the hallway, turning right instead of left like you would if you were heading for the rec room. The door is cracked open and you pause just before you reach it, suddenly feeling nervous. You shouldn’t really. There was no reason to be nervous, yet you can’t help the urge in the back of your mind to turn tail and race back down the hallway to the safety of your room.

“You can come in, unless you’d prefer standing in the hallway all evening.” A voice calls from inside the office.

Your face warms a bit at getting caught, but he could probably hear you coming down the hallway. He could probably smell you too.

You push open the door, slipping inside before closing it behind you. Price stares at you from his desk as you stand there, shifting nervously on your feet. You feel agitated, on edge still. You’re worked up, and you don’t quite know why.

“Everything alright?” Price asks, likely picking up on your nervous energy.

Yes. You want to say, but then you’d have to come up with a reason as to why you sought him out, why you feel so worked up. You could just kneel for him. It’s what you should do, let yourself be eased into a peaceful state of mind. Let him take care of you.

“I don’t know.”

The words are hardly more than a whisper, your voice trembling just as much as you are. Your chest feels tight, your breaths becoming shallow. You're not sure when he got up, when he even moved. His scent wraps around you, warmth encompassing your being as your face is pushed against his chest.

“I need you to breathe for me.” Price says, pressing your ear against his chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heart, the air flowing in and out of his lungs.

You close your eyes, trying to match your breaths to his. It's hard, your body fighting your attempt to regulate it. You close your eyes, focusing on the soft fabric of Price's shirt against your cheek, the warmth of his hand on your head as he keeps you pinned against his chest. It's not constricting or suffocating. It's grounding, keeping you from drowning in your own thoughts.

He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to as he holds you there, letting you calm down. You begin to slowly relax, your arms wrapping around his waist, fingers gripping the back of his shirt.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” He murmurs, lips brushing the top of your head.

“I don’t know.” You whisper, still clinging to his shirt. “I’m just...I feel off. Ghost was being hard on me this morning and then I got upset during my appointment and I’ve just felt on edge all day and I can’t relax because I can’t get comfortable!”

Price tightens his grip around you just slightly. “What do you mean?”

You huff out a breath, squeezing your eyes closed so the tears don’t escape as the words leave you in a flood before you can stop them. “The blankets aren’t soft enough and the pillows are too thin and it’s too dark and I’m tired of smelling like bland soap!”

Price hums quietly, squeezing you gently as a tear slides down your cheek. “Then we should do something to fix that.”

“But I shouldn’t need it!” You cry, trying to push away from him, but he keeps you tight against his chest. “I’m supposed to be a good omega and adapt and learn to be comfortable where I am.”

“That might be what you were taught,” He says, letting you push away from his chest, but he wraps his hands around your arms, keeping you in front of him. “But things don’t have to be that way. We should have taken care of something like this sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t even think of it. You shouldn’t have had to ask for it.”

You blink up at him, genuinely surprised by his words. “I...what?”

“We all have our own little comforts that we keep. Soap sleeps with a stuffed bear. Don’t tell him I told you that.”

A small smile tugs at your lips at the mental image of Soap snuggling up with a teddy bear.

“You deserve some comfort too.” He says, squeezing your arms.

“But, it’s not...regulation.” You say.

“Doesn’t have to be.” He says. “You’re not a soldier. Even then, the only ones going in there are us. The only thing I can’t approve of is painting the walls. Unfortunately the prison grey has to stay.”

You can’t help but laugh, wiping the tear from your cheek. “I suppose that’s alright. Just...as long as it’s not as dark and maybe a soft blanket or something. That’s really all I need.”

He hums, staring down at you. You can’t quite figure out the look on his face, something shining in his eyes. “We’ll get it figured out.” He says, squeezing your arms again.

“Get some shoes on. We’re going on a trip.”

You look up from your book, staring at Price as he stands in the rec room. He’s dressed in civilian clothes, arms crossed as he stares down at you on the couch. You mark your place in your book, pushing yourself up to sit. It’s a Saturday afternoon, and unlike last week they had the day off, which means you do as well.

“Are you going to make me hike through the woods for two hours again, sir?” You ask, pushing yourself up to stand.

“No. We’re going into town.” He says.

You blink at him. You haven’t been off base since you arrived, and you figured you probably wouldn’t be getting that opportunity any time soon. “Can I ask why, sir?”

“We’ve got some shopping to do.” He says simply, turning and leaving the rec room.

You stand there shocked for a moment before you’re following after him, slipping into your room to put comfortable shoes on and grab your phone and a jacket. You don’t even have a wallet to carry around to make yourself feel better.

Price is waiting by the door for you, a car parked outside. You’re slow to approach him, suddenly feeling a mix of emotions. He’s doing this for you. He’d really taken your conversation last night to heart and now he’s going to go spend money on you that he doesn’t need to.

“What’s that look for sweetheart?” He asks, standing in front of the door.

“You don’t have to do this.” You say, staring up at him. He seems so tall like this, so...imposing.

“Course I do.” He says, his gaze softening just slightly. “Should have done it sooner. You deserve to be comfortable too.” He says, turning to open the door.

You follow him out, climbing into the car when he opens the door for you. He gets in the driver’s seat, the car rumbling to life. He drives to the front gate, passing off two ID cards to the guards. He passes one to you when the guard hands them back, the gate in front of you opening.

“That’s your ID card. Gets you on and off base.” He explains as he drives away from the gate. “I doubt you’ll be leaving on your own, but just in case.”

“Thank you, sir.” You say, slipping the card under your phone case for the time being.

He glances at you, a small smile on his lips. “You can call me John, if you'd like. You don't need to be formal when we're in private.”

“Yes, sir.” You make a face, biting your lip at your automatic response. “Sorry. Old habits.”

“From the institute?” He asks.

You shake your head. “My dad, actually. He was a firm believer in respecting authority figures. All ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ by the time we were old enough to know the difference.”

“Sounds like my father.” He says, staring out at the road ahead. “Old grizzled military man.”

“Do you still have contact with him?” You ask curiously. You don’t know much of anything about their families, their backgrounds.

“Not really. Beyond holidays, neither of us really make an effort to talk to the other. After mum passed, there wasn’t much to talk about.” He says.

“She was the glue.” You say, watching the trees pass by the car.

“Yeah.” He huffs out a laugh. “As betas usually are.”

“Do you have any siblings?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you. You know next to nothing about them, while they likely know your entire life story.

“No,” He shakes his head. “Just me. You have a lot of siblings.”

You nod. “Seven at the time I left for the institute. Could be more now.”

“They never tried to keep contact with you?” He asks.

“Nope.” You turn to look out the window. “The institute didn’t really encourage it either, because we were being prepared to join new packs. That’s hard to do when you still have bonds with your old ones. I think they might have forcibly ended some. I know there were some omegas that tried to keep contact, but it became less and less until eventually it just stopped.”

Price’s hands tighten around the steering wheel just slightly. You wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been paying attention. Silence settles in the car as he drives, farmlands passing until the houses start getting closer and closer together. You stare at the buildings as he drives through town, a blend of historical and modern.

“It’s beautiful here.” You say, watching people and cars pass by.

“I suppose so.” He says, glancing at you. “I grew up in this area.”

You turn to look at him. “You did? I didn’t know that. Then again, I don’t know much about any of you.”

“You can ask us, you know.” He says. “We don’t have to be that secretive with you. At least not about ourselves.”

He pulls into a parking lot, opening your door for you and helping you out of the car. You slip your hand into his, holding it as you cross the parking lot. You stare up at the store. ASDA. You’ve never heard of it before, though you suppose the stores would be different here too.

Price drops your hand to grab a cart, the store bustling with people. You hang onto the edge of the cart, staying close to Price’s side. “We’re here for you.” He says, guiding you through the aisles. “Get whatever you want.”

He’s led you to the homegoods section, your eyes widening at the entire aisle of blankets and bedding in front of you. You try to take it all in, but you feel a bit overwhelmed. There’s so many choices, so many options.

“Pick out as many as you want. Don’t worry about the price.” He says, before you can protest. “We get paid decently, but don’t have many chances to use it. Let me do this for you.”

You stare up into his eyes, the sincerity in them, before you nod, turning back to the wall of blankets before you. You study them, running your hand along them to find the softest ones, doing as he says and ignoring the price tags. You settle on a couple soft ones, grabbing a throw blanket as well that you can pack around to the rec room if you want to. He takes you to the pillow aisle, and you settle on a pair of fluffy pillows, as well as a couple decorative ones as well.

“Here.” He slips a big plush strawberry into your arms before you leave the aisle, your cheeks warming as you look at it. “Makes me think of you.”

You preen at his words, holding onto the strawberry as you make for the lamps and nightlights, settling on a cat shaped one that will sit on your desk and changes colors. You pick up a few other items before heading for the toiletries, finally setting the strawberry in the cart as you zero in on the soaps and body washes. You smell all the strawberry scented ones, trying to find the perfect one.

“Why strawberry?” Price asks as you put a strawberries and cream scented body wash in the cart.

“Compliments my scent.” You explain as he leads you to the shampoo and conditioner. “We had a scent specialist come to the institute one time as an activity. We all figured out what our scents smell like and what notes compliment them the best.”

An arm wraps around your waist before you can look at the shampoo, pulling you back against a broad chest. Price’s nose presses into your neck and he inhales deeply. He lets out a content hum, his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your neck. “I think you’re right.”

Your face burns hot as he presses a gentle kiss against the side of your neck before releasing you. You stand there for a moment, trying to calm the heat rushing through your body and focus on the shampoo. You hear him chuckle as you shuffle forward, your face still burning as you smell the shampoo bottles.

You settle on one, holding onto Price’s arm as you continue around the store, picking up a few other items and a couple for himself as well before heading to the checkout.

You hold on to Price’s arm as you leave the store, sticking close to him as he loads the bags into the trunk. You can feel the slight tension in his body, the way his eyes scan the parking lot every few seconds. You can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must be for him to relax, especially out in public. How fast his mind has to be running, how alert he is to everyone and everything. A threat could come out of nowhere, could come from anyone.

It must be exhausting.

“Hungry, sweetheart?” He asks as he buckles his seatbelt.

“Always.” You answer, leaning on the center console.

He smiles. “What are you in the mood for?”

You blink at him. Most of the restaurants you know probably don’t exist in England. “Fish and chips?” You offer, pulling up the one British food you’re confident in naming.

“Fish and chips it is.” He says, turning on the car.

“I have yet to have real fish and chips.” You say, settling into the passenger seat.

“Well, I know the perfect place.” He says, pulling out of the parking lot.

You don’t have to go far before he’s parking on the street and helping you out of the car. His hand settles on your lower back, guiding you down the street to a fish and chips shop.

It's too early for the dinner rush, the shop mostly empty and quiet. Price orders for you before guiding you to a table, and you let him sit facing the door and front window. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. They seem so relaxed on base, though you suppose that's the place they feel the most comfortable. You can't even imagine the kinds of things they've seen, the horrors they've been subjected to.

You don't want to think about the things they've done.

Your eyes snap downwards as Price's hand slides across the table, closing around yours. You don't want to think about the things he's done with those hands. The lives he's taken, the people he's tortured. Will he ever turn those hands on you?

They've given you no reason to fear them yet. They've all been kind, polite. Even Ghost hasn't truly given you a reason to fear him, despite his obvious disapproval and hard exterior.

You know nothing about them.

You've known them for just over two weeks. You can't possibly have any understanding of who they are, how they express their emotions. What if they get upset? What happens when they get angry? What if you anger them?

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you. Any of it.” Price says, drawing you from your worried thoughts. “I know you were taught to expect this, perhaps not this exact situation, but something like this. Being sent off to some strange alpha to join their pack, bonding with complete strangers. None of us were expecting this either. It’s been an adjustment in a lot of ways, but I want you to know that we’ll take care of you. You need anything, you tell us. You want anything, we’ll do our best to make it happen. We’ll keep you safe.” He lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I promise you that.”

You want to believe him. You really do. They haven’t given you any reason to not believe it.

It’s only been two weeks.

You continue to talk with him as you eat, making light conversation, getting to know him a bit more. Despite the trickling uncertainty in the back of your mind, it feels good. It feels like a date, something you had dreamed of before you presented, something you had imagined happening when you finally got old enough to start looking for potential mates and packs.

Of course, back then, you had thought you’d be an alpha.

It had been expected of you.

Price has his arm wrapped around you as you walk back to the car, his hand on your hip. It’s possessive almost, and it makes your stomach flutter. Price is the only one you haven’t kissed yet, well, besides Ghost, but you’re certain you’d wind up through a wall if you even thought of trying. It’s almost ironic that Price would be the last, considering he’s going to be the one claiming you, the one you spend your heat with.

You stare out the window as the buildings fade into farmlands again. The sun is setting, painting the world in oranges and reds. You still feel a bit warm from Price’s possessive hold on you, his teasing in the store. You can still feel the tickle of his beard on your skin, his lips pressing against your neck.

You jump when rough fingers trail down your arm, pulling it from where it had been resting in your lap.

“You were right.” Price says as he lifts your hand to his face, pressing his nose against your wrist and inhaling for a moment. “Strawberries are the strongest note in your scent.” He lowers your hand again, lacing your fingers together. “What’s got you all worked up over there.”

You stare at him, your face getting warm again. Of course he can smell it. You can smell the muskiness beginning to form around the edges of his scent. Desire. “You haven’t kissed me yet.” You say, moving his hand into your lap. “You're the only one that hasn't...well, besides Ghost.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh. “You sound disappointed.”

You untangle your fingers with his, letting his hand rest on your thigh. “What if I am?”

His fingers flex against your leg, the muskiness of his scent strengthening. “Then maybe we should fix that.”

The cocktail of scents in the car is intoxicating, and you feel bad for the poor beta soldier at the gate when Price rolls down the window to hand off your IDs.

Price is out of the car as soon as it's parked, moving around to your side to open the door. He pins you against the side of the car as soon as you're out, caging you in with his arms.

You stare up at him, head swimming with the musk laced in his scent. You can see his eyes shining in the light next to the door of the barracks. He looks like a hungry wolf, the back of your neck prickling with excitement.

He leans down, breath fanning your face as he gets closer and closer to you. You press yourself against him, hands gripping his shoulders as he presses his lips to yours. His lips are surprisingly soft, his beard tickling your face. He growls quietly against your lips, pushing you harder against the side of the car.

You let out a quiet sound in response, hands gripping his jacket. His hands slide from the car to your sides, sliding down to grip your hips. You can feel the muscle hidden beneath his jacket and shirt, the strength that he possesses. He may not be purebred like Ghost, but he’s still every inch an alpha.

You let out another quiet sound as he pulls away, pressing a caste kiss to the corner of your lips. “Bloody hell, now I know what those boys were on about.” He breathes, leaning his forehead against yours.

“They were talking about me?” You ask, pulling back slightly.

“Only good things.” Price grins, leaning down to kiss you again. “Sweet as sugar.” He breathes, kissing you again. “And just as addicting.” He pulls away from you, his hands resting on your waist. “We should get your stuff inside so you can get it all set up. Want me to fetch one of the boys to help?”

You bite your lip. “Or you could just do it.”

He stares down at you, something flashing across his face but you can’t quite make it out in the low light. “You’re sure?” His voice is quiet, taking on that soft tone it often does when he speaks to you.

“You’ll have to eventually.” You shrug. “Might as well start now.”

He leans down, kissing you again before pulling away, opening up the trunk. He grabs most of the bags, only leaving the pillows for you to grab before he leads the way into the barracks. You open your door, stepping in first before he follows. You dump your pillows on the bed, and he sets the rest of the bags on your desk.

“Blankets in the wash.” You say, digging them out of the bags, pulling the tags off.

“I’ll take them.” He says, fishing out his stuff from the bags before taking the blankets from you.

You switch out your pillows for the softer ones, organizing the decorative ones just the way you want. You squish the strawberry to your chest again, a smile forming on your face before you flop back onto the bed, sinking into the soft pillows. It’s almost perfect, you think.

“Comfortable?” Price’s voice rumbles in the doorway, a smile on his face as he stares at you.

“Much better.” You say, sitting up and placing the strawberry in its place.

The two of you finish taking everything out of the bags, decorating the rest of your room. The posters on the walls, and the nightlight on your desk. It feels far more homey already, and you know you’re going to sleep well tonight once the blankets are out of the wash.

“Thank you.” You say, looking up at Price. “This really means a lot.”

“All in a day’s work, love.” He says, pulling you into his arms again.

You lean against his chest, resting your head over his heart, listening to it beat steadily against your ear.

You wake up suddenly, yet you’re not quite sure why. There’s no one in your room, your new nightlight easily showing you that. Your mouth is dry, but there’s a line of wetness down your chin. You reach across your nightstand, your phone illuminating the time.

Just past one a.m.

You smack your lips, feeling thirsty after the excitement of the day. You’d forgotten to grab water when you left the rec room and you huff out a sigh. You don’t want to get up, but now that you’re aware you’re thirsty, there’s no stopping those thoughts.

You don’t even bother with slippers as you pad to the door, opening it up. You leave it cracked as you sleepily shuffle towards the rec room, the barracks almost dead quiet this late. You grab a bottle from the fridge, unscrewing the top before drinking a few gulps. It’s cold and tastes divine, soothing the dryness of your mouth. You screw the top back on, closing the fridge before heading back towards your room.

You turn the corner, still half asleep, nearly yelping as you slam into a chest. You stumble back a couple steps, staring up at the covered face looming over you. You gulp, holding the bottle to your chest.

“S-Sorry.” You stutter.

“You’re out of bed.” He says quietly, voice rumbling in the silence.

“Thirsty.” It’s all you can manage as you hold up the bottle.

He stares at you for a long moment, eyes flickering all over your face. His chest is heaving, almost as if he had been running before you ran into him. His hands are closed into fists at his sides, knuckles almost white with how tense he is. You think for a moment he might be mad, but you can’t catch any whiff of ozone in the air. Your nose prickles at the scent, but it’s not anger.

Your tired brain can’t make sense of it, yearning to sink back into the softness of your bed again. You slowly shuffle around him, taking cautious steps, waiting for him to reach out and stop you, but he doesn’t. He simply watches you go, standing there in the hallway as you slip back into your room, not moving until he hears the click of your lock slipping into place.

Taglist:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows, @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10, @cassiecasluciluce @darling006 @sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph

#call of duty #call of duty fic #x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #poly 141 #task force 141 x reader #omegaverse #a/b/o #alpha/beta/omega dynamics

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justhereforthemeta · 8 months

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Romantic expectations and the story we didn't see: A magic trick hiding in plain sight

Here's a hopeful meta for all my fellow celestial brainrot sufferers out there. Cheers! :)

This idea started as a dead end, trying to track the movements of Crowley’s sideburns/tattoo because I thought time travel shenanigans were afoot. I had to abandon that theory when it was pointed out that David was simultaneously filming as the sideburns-having Fourteenth Doctor, and in-universe Crowley can do whatever he wants with his facial hair whenever he feels like it. But hey - null findings are still findings!

On the bright side, pausing the show to make notations in a spreadsheet forced me to slow down and notice other changes I'd overlooked the first time around: acting choices, costuming choices, references to book lore. And possibly a few surreptitious flicks of the wrist, in places where we’re meant to be focused on the magician’s other hand.

@amuseoffyre and @ineffablefood had a great exchange recently about romance and “the significance of misdirection and three-in-one (magic) tricks” throughout the show. I suspect Neil has done something brilliant with the audience’s long-standing expectations (since the 1990s, really) for the love story between Crowley and Aziraphale to develop. And while it is a wonderful story indeed, playing to this expectation lets Neil distract his audience from the blink-and-you'll-miss-them seeds he's planting for the final chapter.

Continued below the cut...

Let’s start at the beginning of Episode 2. First, context: In the previous installment, Crowley stormed out of the bookshop, was whisked away to Hell by Beelzebub where he learns about the Book of Life threat to Aziraphale’s existence, then returned to the bookshop to dance a little apology dance and hide Gabriel with an unintentionally massive joint miracle. In S2E2, we and Shax catch up with Crowley as he's snoozing in the Bentley.

Shax: “You’re in trouble”

A. J. Crowley, cool as a cucumber: “Obviously. Former demon, hated by Heaven, loathed by Hell. How will our hero cope?”

Interesting! Sarcastic? Yes, absolutely; but that’s also a good 4500 years and an averted apocalypse away from “I’m a demon. I lie,” wouldn’t you say? Someone is sounding a whole lot less depressed and aimless and navel-gazey (do snakes have navels?), and a whole lot more like he’s got a project to focus on, since his "what's the point?" ruminations on the park bench in E1.

And of course we all noticed the costume change right away. Hello, black turtleneck. Feeling cute today, thought I’d cover up my graceful long neck? That sounds unlikely. Let’s put a pin in this one.

There’s also an interesting acting choice going on here. Crowley speaks to Shax in a funny, drawling, too-cool-for-you voice that we haven’t heard in a while. Specifically, not since 1967. If you go back and give the S1E3 scene in the Dirty Donkey a listen, you’ll hear it (and if you know of another instance of it that I've missed, please let me know!). In S2E2, he keeps up this odd voice (if anybody knows what kind of affect this is supposed to be, please do tell!) throughout this dialogue with Shax, except for the brief moment when she first surprises him about the joint miracle having been detected.

1967 was a fun year. Crowley masterminded a heist! And seemed like he was having a ball doing it, right up until his little caper was called off after Aziraphale brought him the thermos of holy water. Crowley spoke to his co-conspirators in that same funny, very 60’s-caper-film voice. He wore a hip 60’s turtleneck. He bought petrol for the only time ever, so he could get those sweet James Bond bullet hole decals for his car (per the book, seen on the Bentley in the show).

Those James Bond bullet hole decals would of course have been part of a promotion for this 1967 release, which you just know our film-enjoying demon went to see in the theater:

Starring this suave, be-turtlenecked guy:

And now - begging your forgiveness - a brief rant.

There are a number of posts out there that refer to Crowley’s S2E2 turtleneck as a flirtatious sartorial choice - actually, ‘slutty’ seems to be the favored accusation. There are even a few posts floating around commenting on how sweet it is that Crowley swaps out his slutty, kinky, throw-me-over-your-desk-and-take-me turtleneck for a more dressy and appropriate collared shirt specifically to attend Aziraphale’s Jane Austen ball.

Now this is all in good fun, and Crowley does indeed look fantastic here, and I do love a good fangirling sesh as much as the next person. However, fandom’s collective tendency to interpret what we are seeing on the screen through the lens of romantic expectation can, at times, give rise to a kind of blinkered enthusiasm that obscures the original text in a haze that is part Mandela Effect, part unrestrained horniness, and part in-group code talking and identity reinforcement.

Respectfully, Crowley’s black turtleneck does not appear at all in S2E5: The Ball. In fact, it never appears again after the end of S2E2.

For Someone’s sake, let’s collectively pull our heads out of the romantic fog/gutter for a moment and focus on what we are actually seeing in the book and on the screen. For Crowley, this is an uncharacteristic within-period costume change. There is a surreptitious flick of the wrist happening here, out in broad daylight, and we are all missing it.

So here’s a thing. Aziraphale appears to have settled comfortably into life on Earth, his neighborhood, his books, using Crowley as an outlet for sharing his good deeds that he would once have reported to Heaven. Meanwhile, at first glance, Crowley appears stuck in a rut. There he slouches on a park bench with Shax in S2E1: a guy who lives in his car, stagnantly clinging to old familiar habits, mulling over the pointlessness of it all.

Setting aside the bit about living in the Bentley (I’m going to attribute this to well-documented issues between him and Aziraphale, discussed in many other excellent metas, and move on), Crowley has at least two very good, proactive reasons for maintaining his contact with Hell through Shax. First and foremost, it’s a source of information he can use to keep ahead of potential threats to Aziraphale and himself.

But also, I would posit…he kinda likes it.

Recall that book GO was first conceived as a parody, with Aziraphale and Crowley as spy-against-spy (but not really) field operatives in an ages-old cold war between Heaven and Hell. Their entire book dynamic is rooted in the trope of two opposing agents who have been in the field for so long that they now have more in common with each other than with their respective head offices. Their St. James’s Park meetings among other spies and ministers trading secrets are a sendup of what was once a well-known Cold War-era cliché.

Our contemporary Crowley still likes slick outfits and hellaciously expensive watches and high-performing vintage cars and pens that write underwater while looking like they could break the speed limit. He coaches Shax on how to blend in as a demon on Earth, and he helpfully redirects the wayward contact looking for the Azerbaijani sector chief. He loves improvising and getting away with shenanigans under the institutional radar. And boy golly was he impressed with Jane Austen: master spy, brandy smuggler, and mastermind of the 1810 Clerkenwell Diamond Robbery.

And if you look at it a certain way, for as long as Crowley has considered himself to be on “[his] own side” - going at least as far back as Job - he could almost think of himself as a sort of double agent. It’s actually a very romantic sort of notion, befitting our hopeless romantic of a (professedly former) demon; but it’s romantic in a very different way than we, the audience, have been primed to watch for.

In other words, in a very “on my own side” kind of way, Crowley really gets a kick out of being a spy. Or at least, dressing up and accessorizing as one, and moonlighting as a good-doing double agent when he can get away with it. And also being a plotting criminal mastermind. Two sides of a coin, really. Just look at Jane Austen.

My point is: No, Crowley did not wait around for Shax to come find him in a turtleneck so that he could go flirt with Aziraphale later. He’ll flirt with Aziraphale no matter what. No, this:

is actually this:

Much like the one he wears to the Dirty Donkey in 1967:

whilst holy water heist-plotting. Here's a clearer shot with gratuitous Bentley, because I love them:

…and which he'll wear again, with appropriate camouflage, while infiltrating Heaven in S2E6:

That is the 1967 planning a HEIST turtleneck for committing ESPIONAGE and STEALING THINGS in. Because turtlenecks are what modern human master spies wear to get their hands dirty - after all, he saw it in a movie once.

Crowley dons his tactical turtleneck sometime during the first major break in the action (which doesn't happen until after the joint miracle to hide Gabriel) after he learns about the threat the Book of Life poses to Aziraphale. Loverboy started mentally preparing himself to go after that book immediately upon learning that it was in play as a genuine threat.

Now let’s pick up at the S2E2 Dirty Donkey scene, reading the story from this angle. Of course, Crowley enables Aziraphale’s delusions about Heaven by hiding information from him, and does not disclose the Book of Life threat when they meet again. They go into the pub, Aziraphale shamelessly paws Crowley’s chest like the seductive Bond Girl he is, and Crowley gets to act all smooth and suave and intimidating as he chases off the interloping Mr. Brown (or Mr. Collins for the Pride & Prejudice fans, take your pick).

Ergo, theory: beginning in S2E2, Crowley is already thinking of himself as a Jane Austen/James Bond action hero (“How will our hero cope?”), psyching himself up to rescue Aziraphale by getting his spy game on and stealing the Book of Life.

Now, watch closely...This is where Aziraphale and Crowley brainstorm their plans to solve the problem they both know about: getting Maggie and Nina to fall in love and thereby get Heaven off their backs. Crowley’s vavoom plan is drawn from yet another movie (“Get humans wet and staring into each other’s eyes - vavoom, sorted. I saw it in a Richard Curtis film.”). But Crowley also implicitly shares his solution to the problem he hasn’t told Aziraphale about. And true to form, Crowley’s Jane Austen solution isn’t the same as Aziraphale’s Jane Austen solution.

Two solutions that fail by the end of Season 2, and a secret third one that might still work...and there's our magic trick of three.

‘“I’m lost. Am I doing a rainstorm?” Yes, babe. And a heist, too - just not until season three. Can I get a wahoo!?

I won’t spend time on A Companion to Owls during this meta, except to note that in all three minisodes, we get to watch stories that involve Crowley acting as a double agent on “his/their own side” - successfully making Hell and Heaven think he’s fulfilling their will while saving Job’s goats and children; failing to fool Hell when he does a good deed in Edinburgh; and of course, collaborating with Aziraphale whilst evading detection as an infernal turncoat during the Blitz.

(Because this is getting long, I'll also skip over Crowley's interrogation of Jim in this episode - I'll probably come back to that in another meta. But interrogating is a rather spy-ish thing to do.)

When we catch up with Crowley again later, he’s already slipped out of the bookshop, having left Aziraphale to his biblical reverie about Job. He saunters snakily down Whickber Street as usual, but with a very pointed and swift glance over his shoulder (see pic above). This demon is up to something - possibly something we didn’t get to see, something that may have happened offscreen while he stepped out. In any case, knowing there’ve been unfriendly angels in the neighborhood that morning, he’s rightly concerned about being spied on.

From this point until the beginning of episode six, there isn’t a whole lot of opportunity for Crowley to make any next moves. He babysits the bookshop, during which time he manages to wring some crucial information out of Jim; he follows his Crowley’s Angel around like a puppy, and downs a bottle of red like a good old fashioned lovesick boy once that’s been pointed out to him. If any plotting or scheming is underway, this occult being is keeping stumm for now.

This has been a long one, so I’ll wrap up with Crowley’s infiltration of Heaven with Muriel. The turtleneck disguise works (Archer fans, be vindicated!) long enough to gather some information that will be crucial not just to the denouement of S2, but also to Crowley’s journey in S3 (previous post on Crowley's Fall, Saraqael, and memory wiping). And Aziraphale gets to enjoy that view exactly zero times. The point isn’t oh, a turtleneck! How flirty! So cunty! So cute! Y’all. Everything matters. The costume change was a deliberate choice. In-universe, Crowley’s decision to wear his special spy turtleneck for spying in is a signal that he is out doing spy things, even as we watch.

In sum: Beginning in S2E2 and continuing through the end of the season, Aziraphale and Crowley are actively living out the scripts of two parallel, concurrent, and completely different Jane Austen stories. But you and I, dear fellow audience member, we came here for a comedy with a hefty jigger of romance, and that’s what Neil gave us to focus on. And right up until the Final 15, that was the only story we saw.

Meanwhile, Special Agent A. J. Crowley doesn’t have time to mope around at the end of S2E6. He’s kicked down, but he’s not out. He's got a Book of Life to steal, a very serious bone to pick with a certain memory-wiping angel, and his Angel and the world to save.

“‘Heigh ho,’ said [romantic, optimist, former demon, hero, master spy] Anthony Crowley, and just drove anyway.”

#so honestly #I think the biggest mark against this conclusion is that Crowley sees his mirror Maggie taking a nap at the end of S2E6 #there is a strong chance of a depression nap before any further spying gets underway #but I am counting on Muriel to be a dorky ray of sunshine and snap him out of it with Clues #good omens #good omens meta #good omens 2 #crowley in a turtleneck #demon bookseller plantdad spy

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francis-writes · 2 months

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Hiii! can i request what feyd would do if he gets jealous/possessive of his wife/partner? i just have a feeling that he would go absolutely feral. thank you sm! after dune 2 ive been searching her feyd stories everywhere!

READER IS GENDER NEUTRAL

A/N: thanks! I had crush on him since i read the book but now fortunately there is much more about him. I am still obsessed with him but for next week I may publish less often because of university and personal stuff

First of all, you're absolutely right. Not that Feyd is self-conscious. He thinks about himself as a perfect partner, a main prize, so he isn't afraid that you would find someone better than him.

But it doesn't change the fact that he doesn't like the idea of you being out of his control or someone else seducing you. (He trusts you but there's never enough caution, world is full of dangers; also with his position it is possible that someone could try to take you away just to get a revenge on Feyd)

I already wrote a scenario where somebody flirted with his crush and lemme tell you, nothing changes when Feyd is in established relationship. If anything, he only gets more possesive.

Of course, there are many different possible scenarios. His reaction depends on whether there's actual reason to worry or he just has suspicions, whether somebody flirts with you or just gets to close to you, whether it's a stranger, an acquaintance, a family. Is it a noble, a common person etc. But lets just speak about some possibilities

If you were somewhere in public, perhaps on some official party, and Feyd notices that somebody is flirting with you, he quickly drops whatever he's doing and comes to you. Keeping his calm posture, he joins the conversation and makes sure to emphasize that you're HIS partner and you aren't looking for anybody else. Feyd keeps his arm around your waist, starts talking about how happy you are together (constatly repeating "MY love", "MY spouse", "OUR family" etc). He's not that much into PDA and being soft publicly but he kissess you as hungrily and as long as possible. People on the party feel a bit awkward but the point is made.

If potential rival is going to far with their advances and acts too bold, or if it's a less public situation (for example a common afternoon in Harkonnen's residency) then it's very likely that Feyd would use violence, perhaps treating that person like he treated Rabban in the movie (throwing him on the floor and forcing to lick Feyd's boots), no matter the status of that person (unless it would be Emperor himself... I think). Maybe instead of boot-licking (or in addition to it), he would force them to admit that you're Feyd's and they had no right to mess with his possesions (even if your relationship is pretty healthy, Feyd still treats you as his possesion and he's very territorial)

Or maybe if somebody flirts with you more subtly, there's a possibility that Feyd will fuck you in a near room so everybody knows what happen because 1. He knows how to make you scream 2. It's pretty obvious from your disheveled look later. And this can happen no matter whether the flirt happened on a party (and all the nobles have to wittness this little show) or on a common day (and the only recipient of this show is his rival and maybe some poor servants).

When there's no direct threat to your relationship, he still acts pretty possesive. Feyd likes to know where and how do you spend your day (though he really likes if you spend your time with him and if you're interested, he engages you into his duties and takes to fight trainings). He wants you to inform him about your plans and he may or may not make sure that servants observe you. It isn't spying. It's just curiosity and making sure that you're safe.

Also. If Feyd was going to fight with somebody and that person acted the same way as he did with Paul and Chani ("Who is the little one, a pet perhaps? Will she deserve my special attentions?"), Feyd would be fucking livid (kinda hypocritical but that's what we love him for). That person wouldn’t survive to see the next day. And if he left them alive, it would be only to torture them and teach them how messing with his close ones ends.

#feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #dune part two #dune imagine #house harkonnen #harkonnen x reader

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messiahzzz · 7 months

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i have been thinking a lot about mystra’s relationship with gale, how reducing her to “his ex” really is an understatement. she was and still is so much more than that. moreover, using the term “ex-girlfriend” in relation to her plainly feels wrong and diminishes the influence she has over him, as well as the role she played in his life since his childhood (and it also trivializes the abuse he suffered through her).

there are several instances where gale gets defensive when his companions mention or ask him abt mystra. he claims that their relationship was no less real even though most of their interactions were incorporeal.

we have already established that gale is an unreliable narrator in this particular case, still not having fully come to terms with the fact that he was groomed, manipulated and abused. he ping-pongs between bouts of realization (even in his romance), gaining clarity that he was merely used and eventually discarded and that mystra never truly cared for him, back to making light of his situation, idealizing her once again. realizing the extent of his trauma, that he is indeed a victim in this scenario, unlearning what he has been made to believe from a young age is a slow and painful journey. he is in the process of healing, but it takes time. time he deserves just like anyone else.

which makes me wonder what their relationship really looked like, once the lines between teacher, muse, and lover began to blur. i also feel like one of the reasons why part of the fandom still struggles to identify mystra as his abuser, is because she is a white woman who initially presents herself in a soft-spoken, benevolent manner… and well, the fact that gale himself is ambitious to a fault and a lil insane about the promise of power. he also briefly mentions "crossing mystra’s boundaries” when he confides in tav and tells them about his folly. (“i am, after all, the villain in this story.”) which led to a looooot of misinterpretations.

leaving the overall lore and mystra’s treatment of her other chosen aside — what we can discern from her interactions with gale in-game, is that mystra is civil as long as she remains in control and gale follows her demands, but as soon as there’s even a slight mention of challenging her power or defying her rule, she rather quickly changes her tone.

there is also one particular exchange between them that just won’t leave my head:

“you were many things to me, but never a threat. and never a savior."

even if we choose to blatantly ignore the fact that mystra is a deity, his goddess - there is no possible way that their relationship ever could have been equal by any mortal standards. the power imbalance that comes with her being his teacher and a symbol of his admiration, plus the sheer control she holds over him and his powers are simply too great. don’t even let me get started on how it is a common tactic of abusers to isolate their victims from any outside influences so they can exert full control over them. and how up to meeting tav and their merry band of misfits, every single soul he was close to was inevitably tied to mystra in one way or another. he briefly mentions his colleagues and then there’s elminster, also mystra’s chosen and former lover, and tara, who is a fine wizard in her own right. he spend so many years in service of her, dedicating his life to her, that now there is no one left he can truly call a friend. most of his little anecdotes and stories he tells are restricted to his childhood and university days, everything else was mystra.

evidently, ordering gale to detonate the orb is the most efficient course of action in her eyes. he is just as expendable as any other mortal, after all. maybe once significantly more useful given his status and the extent of his powers, but she doesn’t feel sorrow nor remorse for ordering him to end his life. his death is simply the most convenient means to an end.

another thing i would also like to briefly touch upon is the trigger/detonator itself. a dagger to the heart. it could have been literally anything else, a simple incantation. it is well within mystra’s power to stabilize the orb and also to remove it from his body entirely. but no, what she requires of gale is to stab himself. one might argue that it was simply a cinematic choice meant for a more dramatic effect, but it really leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. especially considering the fact that she is commonly known and referred to as a jealous goddess. it almost makes it seem like yet another form of punishment or mere pettiness. after his long period of isolation, gale is now surrounded by fellow humans. people he cares about, even perhaps people he might eventually consider good friends — which is enough of a reason for him to not want to die, to keep going and try to find another way, rather than to blindly follow mystra’s bidding. now there’s a group of people who support him and are genuinely invested in him staying alive. hmmm...

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate 3 spoilers #mystra #yes again ugh #i know we have been through this so many times #also another thing i forgot to mention:#apparently there are several ending variations where gale relinquishes the crown of karsus to her #but mystra only temporarily stabilizes the orb and doesn't remove it #huh #this was a long one sorry #bg3 meta #grooming cw #abuse cw

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 11 months

Text

Okay, okay, okay, hear me out.

Au where Dannys family is a legit crime family/family of evil mad scientists. Like, full career criminals. Instead of hazmat suits they're decked out in high tech armor and masks and have codenames. They move around pretty often to throw the police off thier trail.

The lab accident that makes Phantom still happens despite his parents not being obsessed with ghosts/being only partially obsessed. They were trying to build a portal to the ghost zone as a way to expand their list of potential targets/a way to escape if the cops get too close to catching them/ expand thier criminal empire if you're going for a more hard-core fic (like a mafia au or something idk)

Phantom is a superhero who follows them from city to city and stops the families more serious crimes where people actually get hurt. Danny of course never tells them that he- thier brilliant evil mastermind son- moonlights as a superhero

One day Danny, in the middle of a heist with his family, is startled by the appearance of a thin glowing red string on his finger. Fascinated, Danny pesters his parents for weeks until he eventually states "I'm going no matter what you do or say, so you can either help me or get out of my way".

They reluctantly agree to let him 'Go on a journey' to find his possible soulmate/whoever is on the other end of the line and give him all sorts of gear and give him a teary goodbye

Meanwhile, the teen hero in the dc universe that literally got wacked with an unknown magical object is upset that they've been benched from active duty until the string disappears as its a threat to thier secret identity.

Then this other kid shows up and just...hangs out with them? And the string leads to them?? How did you get in here my dude???

#dp x dc #fanfiction prompts #prompts #danny phantom #danny fenton #bonus points if its like tim drake or something #and danny is just like: good news hes super cute #danny: bad news hes rich and sometimes talks like a politician #tim: how did you get in here???#danny: i broke in :)#danny: dont worry i will protect you dear civilian #tim: ((O-O))#danny: soo...do you wanna take apart some of my tech?#tim:...you would let me?#danny: sure!

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redstarwriting · 11 months

Text

the clash | vii. i wanna be sedated

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 2k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, you(?) hating hobie, anxious hobie, panic attacks, mentions of death, threat of main character death, giving blood, negative self-talk, ANGST

a/n: another short one, but that’s because it’s about to get intense. there’s a possibility the series may be ending within the next two chapters, but we shall see what happens! please enjoy this one, and i promise it won’t be all angst the rest of the time lmao there will be a pay off, next chapter should be LONG and give a smidge of happiness

previous chapter: vi. (with someone you shouldn’t’ve)

now reading: vii. i wanna be sedated

next chapter: viii. love you to death

───────────────────────────────────

Hobie stares at Miguel. He can see his lips moving, but he can’t hear what he’s saying. All he can hear is his heartbeat and the blood rushing to his head. Kill? This other version of him was meant to kill you. Does that mean he’s going to kill you now that he killed him? No. No that can’t happen. He won’t let it happen.

“HOBIE!”

Hobie realizes he’s gripping the desk in front of him. His eyes are wide, and his heart is beating faster than he has ever felt it beat before. He clenches and unclenches his jaw, swallowing nothing. His throat is dry. Miguel hesitantly places a hand on his shoulder. “Hobie, can you hear me?” He nods, staring ahead of him at his hands. “I think I might know what you’re thinking. You won’t kill them. You aren’t going to take the place of Hobart on their world,” he assures him, and Hobie tries to control his shaky breathing. “You have to calm down,” Miguel says in probably the gentlest voice Hobie has ever heard from him. He forgets he’s a dad sometimes. And that he also has gone through some shit. He nods again, trying to take in what Miguel just said. He accidentally snaps two pieces off the desk with how hard he’s gripping it. He closes his eyes and takes a breath. “You were trainin’ ‘em to stop him.”

Miguel nods. “I was.”

“Does that mean I can still save ‘em?” Hobie looks at him, and Miguel sighs. “Maybe… but–”

“But what?” Hobie frantically asks, and Miguel frowns. “The Venom symbiote was supposed to take over as the Spider-Person for their world as Hobie Brown… if we defeat Venom…”

“Please don’t tell me…” Hobie whispers, and Miguel nods. “There is a 100% chance their world will collapse. It’s the final canon even in (Y/n)’s story.”

“No…” Hobie shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “No, there has to be a way! We can do somethin’!”

“Hobie…” Miguel starts, but Hobie turns his head towards him, suddenly angry. Ready to fight. “And you were just gonna let this bloody shit happen?! You care so fuckin’ much about the fuckin’ canon that–”

“HOBIE. No! I wasn’t going to let it happen. Why do you think I put so much time and effort into helping them?! I’ve been trying to fix it!” Miguel yells, “I know you might find it hard to believe but I’m not a fan of an evil symbiote taking over the world of someone I’ve been mentoring for the past month.” Hobie looks down again. “What if they just… stayed with me? In my world?” “Hobie, if their world disappears, they disappear,” Miguel explains and Hobie shakes his head. “No. Find out a way to make ‘em stay! You can do that! You have tech and all the shit to do it! We can save ‘em!” Hobie is screaming at this point, and Miguel stares at him for a moment. He sighs, rubbing his face, distressed. “There… might actually be a way,” he says. Hobie nearly falls to his knees. “How?”

“I’ve been developing something to change the genetic code of someone, making them appear like they belong in another universe. My thought process behind it is if Miles did it with the spider from Earth-42, we can do it here as well,” he explains, typing something into his computer. Hobie watches the screens. He reads everything happening in front of him, but it’s a little hard at this particular moment as it feels like everything is kind of crashing down around him. He is able to get some basic information on how Miguel would do this, though. “We’d just need somethin’ from my world, then?” he asks, and Miguel nods. “Yes… but unfortunately the process can be… painful.”

“How painful?” Hobie asks, and Miguel glances at him. “Are you willing to do anything to save them?”

“Yes!” Hobie says, and Miguel nods. “We tested it on inanimate objects until we were sure it would work, then we tested it on animals. And while it always turns out fine in the end… the process is difficult to watch. Their molecules will be rearranged and changed, tearing them apart and piecing them back together. Can you sit by and watch that happen to them?” Miguel asks, and Hobie gulps. “I can try…”

Miguel holds up a smaller device, showing it to Hobie. “What you do is you take anything from your universe, inanimate, and put it in here. I’ll also need a blood sample from you.” Hobie then notices that he’s still gripping the pieces of the desk in his hands. He opens his hands, and the remains of the desk fall out of them and onto the floor. Miguel hands the device over, and Hobie holds it, tossing it back and forth in his hands. “What do I do with this?” “I just told you,” Miguel says, glancing at him. Hobie stares at the little device in his hands. Right. He did just tell him. He hasn’t felt this scatterbrained in a long time. He takes off one of his pins from his vest, sticking it inside. It whirs and shuts tightly. Miguel takes it back from him and nods. “This should work perfectly. Now, I need some blood from you. We’ll perform a blood transfusion with the blood from your world to stabilize them as the genetic splicing takes place, luckily with the technology we have here on Earth-2099, the transfusion should take no longer than 3 minutes,” Miguel explains, as he begins walking toward his lab. Hobie follows him, quieter than he’s ever been in his entire life. Miguel glances back at him. “Are you okay to give some blood?”

“Yeah. Should be nothin’,” he mumbles and Miguel nods.

Miguel motions him to sit in a chair so he could get some blood from him. He sits. “You know, this is the first time you’ve done what I’ve said without fighting me on it,” Miguel says as machines start up, preparing Hobie’s arm for blood extraction. Hobie scoffs. “Come off it, mate,” he mumbles and Miguel shrugs. “I’m just saying.”

“I’m still Spider-Man. I can be responsible or whatever,” Hobie says as the machine takes some of his blood. “Mhm. Apparently, you can,” Miguel says, and he looks at him. “So, you like them, huh?”

“What?”

“(Y/n)? You actually ended up liking them?” Miguel asks again, and Hobie shrugs one shoulder slightly. “Guess so,” Hobie mumbles, and Miguel shakes his head. “The blood extraction should be done soon. How are you feeling?”

“Bloody brilliant,” he mumbles, and then sees Miguel’s face. “Buck up, bloke. I’m fine,” he answers and Miguel nods. “I’ll get everything ready. Bring them here, and we’ll figure out the rest. If it’s the worst case scenario, let me know. I’ll send back-up.”

Hobie stands, giving Miguel a nod, and walks out of the lab. The blood extraction did make him a little light-headed, but he doesn’t have the time to sit around and wait to feel better. He’s lost in his thoughts. He let his anger get the best of him, and in doing so, put you in danger. That was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to protect you and getting that asshole out of the way was the best way to do it. He thought it was the best way, at least. But it turns out that that asshole was him. And now you’re in even more danger than you were before. If that symbiote bonds with you… He doesn’t wanna think about it. Symbiotes can fuck up a host. He’s seen it happen. He doesn’t want you to have to go through any of that. And to top it all off, Miguel was saying how dangerous this symbiote is. Does that mean if it bonds with you, it’ll kill you? And is it like his symbiotes where noises drive it crazy? How did he fuck up this bad?

He's torn out of his thoughts by a familiar voice. “Hobie! Hey!” Gwen yells, landing next to him. “Alright?”

“I’m good. You should have seen it, Miles, Pav, and I took down Doc Ock after he escaped from prison, it was crazy. We could have used you and (Y/n),” she starts rambling off and he just listens. “Sounds great,” he mumbles, and she raises an eyebrow at him. “You okay? You seem a little… down.”

“’m fine,” he mumbles, and she doesn’t believe him, but she knows he’ll talk about it when he’s ready. Miles and Pavitr appear shortly after, talking to each other about how they did a move together that was ‘so cool!’ and how they need to show Hobie it as soon as they can. “Right, great talkin’ to you all, but I have to go visit (Y/n),” Hobie says, fiddling with his watch to open a portal to your world. “Oh, are you guys on speaking terms again? About damn time,” Miles says, and Pav leaps up and down with a little clap. “Have the two of you accepted your feelings for each other yet?” Pav asks, and Hobie just glances at him, not saying anything. Usually, he would tell him to piss off. But he’s not about to do that when he did realize his feelings for you. So he just stays quiet.

The three of them look at each other with wide eyes as Hobie steps through the portal and into your world without a word.

As soon as he’s back, the air feels a little… different. Maybe it’s just him coming to terms with what he’s done, though. He’s unsure how much time has passed since he left, but a quick glance at the grandfather clock in the corner of your room tells him he’s been gone about three hours or so. He hears a soft meow and looks to see Shadow peeking out from behind a small crack between the wall and your fridge. “Hey, Shadow,” he says, crouching down and holding his hand out. Shadow cautiously approaches him, sniffing his fingers before walking into his hand. He pets him and looks around. “(Y/n)!” he calls your name but gets no response. Strange.

He hears another meow and looks down at Shadow who is staring at your balcony doors. The curtains have been pulled over them, but he can see that one is open from the wind blowing the curtain inside. He sees the silhouette of someone on your balcony, but if it was you, you would have been saying something to him by now.

He gets a bad feeling.

He slowly stands, and Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr end up coming through the portal. “Shh,” Hobie says, holding up his hand and pulling his mask over his face. The three of them glance at each other as they realize something is wrong, too. Hobie slowly walks toward your balcony doors, pushing the curtain out of the way and seeing your form facing out towards the city. You seem to be in your suit, as you’re shrouded in black from head to toe. But it looks like a new suit. Pav, Miles, and Gwen follow him, on edge the whole time. He stares at you for a moment, but you stay still.

“(Y/n)?” he says your name, and he sees your head tilt slightly, signifying you heard him. “Is that… you…?” he asks. You turn slowly. His eyes widen and his heart drops. He was too late. He sees a toothy grin spread across what was supposed to be your mask and clenches his fists as he hears Venom laugh. “(Y/n) can’t come to the phone right now,” Venom says, their otherworldly voice causing the four spiders to prepare for the worst. “But I would like to thank you, Hobie Brown, for freeing me of my constraints.”

Hobie has a flashback to his fight with himself. “The glass…” he mutters, and Venom lets out a laugh. He feels the world close in on him. His hands shake. He was too late. You were already taken over by Venom. As if reading his thoughts, Venom smiles at him, muttering the words that make his heart stop.

“You led me to them.”

───────────────────────────────

『 tag list 』

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*if you are italicized - i am unable to tag you for whatever reason, feel free to reach out and see if we can fix the issue

if you asked to be on the taglist and i forgot, i’m sorry :( feel free to leave a comment on this or message me separately and i’ll get you right onto it!

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #hobie x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderverse x reader #hobie brown #hobie #spiderpunk #spiderverse #theclashofthespiderverse

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bones4thecats · 4 months

Note

Dear Author-chan, can I request for ROR Hades, Poseidon, Thor and Heracles

It's how the husband fall in love and married to S/o who isekai in ROR. How it happen, is up to you author-chan

Type of Writing: Request Characters: Hades, Poseidon, Heracles, and Thor Name: {Character} During Ragnarok with their Isekai-ed! Reader Requester: Anonymous

A/N: I honestly loved writing this, just making the most fun dynamic and putting in an Isekai-ed! Reader with some of the most serious characters in the show was amazing! I hope you enjoy, lil bubble🫧!

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

💀 When Hades first met you, you were being held by the rest of the Gods as a possible invader, since you appeared out of nowhere and they didn't know what your intentions were, especially when you said you knew where you were, despite being, well, alive-seeming

💀 Hades sat beside his brother, Poseidon, and looked down at you before smirking, thinking of how pathetic-minded his fellow Gods were, you were no threat to them, after all

💀 When the trial ended with you being let go, under the condition of being watched over by a God, Hades offered you to stay in one of his nearby guestrooms in his palace

💀 You knew what was going to happen to him in the future, and when you warned him about that when Ragnarok commenced, he urged Poseidon to not fight, to no avail

💀 Hades looked at you, and you knew that he wanted to fight to protect his brother's honor, but, he knew how much it would hurt you, despite being married for eons

💀 Watching you hold yourself back from warning him not to do anything, he shocked you by sitting down and not declaring himself the next fighter, instead, he commented how sad it was that his younger brother died without any real sendoff

💀 To which you and him stayed seated, and that night, you thanked him and hugged him super close

💀 While he was wondering how you could've possibly known what would happen in every round of Ragnarok, he just smirked, pushing the thought away for another time

🔱 You and Poseidon did not start off on the best foot, since you just appeared out of nowhere and fell onto Adamas, prompting him to try attacking you, with you just running to hide behind Hades, who protected you from the oncoming attack

🔱 Poseidon would sit beside you as you both read, normally, it'd just be silent, but, on the rarest occasion, he would spark a small conversation, or just indulge your own, which started his long train-ride of pining for you

🔱 When Brunhilde declared Ragnarok, you had to hold your husband back from straight-up attacking her then, since she offended him by claiming they were all weak, they were Gods! The most perfect beings in the universe!

🔱 Your husband did not offer himself to be a fighter, rather, Zeus chose him to be one, because his attacks were so ruthless and cold-hearted, much like himself

🔱 You held his hand during the second round, that being Zeus vs. Adam, the father of the Cosmos against the Father of Humanity, it really was a fight for the ages

🔱 Much like with Hades, you warned Poseidon about what was going to happen if he were to fight. While normally, he would turn down your concerns and dismiss you by saying you were crazy to believe a human could kill him, a God, he listened to you

🔱 He saw how heartbroken you looked, and you did say Ragnarok would happen, and that Thor would win and wield Mjolnir without his gloves and that Adam would die standing, so, he couldn't help but look at you when Sasaki Kojiro, his opponent, stood before him with a determined look

🔱 But, forfeiting was not an option anymore, but, thankfully, Sasaki knocked him out and gave you a thumbs up. Thank goodness you spoke to him...

💪 While training with Ares one day, he heard the sound of guards yelling while a scream pierced his and Ares' ears, causing them to pause and look as you ran towards them and away from the guards

💪 Ares ordered them to leave and return to their posts as Heracles spoke to you on how you got here, since you were a human and very much alive, and Valhalla was full of Gods, and the technical dead

💪 You and Heracles became very close friends after that experience, and eventually, after a long while, Heracles married you and began a life of things that most romance movies contain

💪 Zeus had chosen Heracles as a fighter in the fourth round of Ragnarok, but, as you knew what was to occur in the round, you opposed the decision when Heracles told you about it

💪 Heracles had immediately asked why you were opposing to his father's decision, to which you used his love for Humanity card, but he only used it against you with the solid question of how you knew he wanted Humanity alive and not dead like his fellow Gods

💪 Your husband knew you better than anyone, and he could detect when someone lies or was upset easily, so seeing your eyes swell over with hidden pain, he asked once again what was going on

" Heracles- please don't think of me as crazy for saying this. But, if you fight, you'll die. And I, I cannot strain the fact that I cannot afford to lose you... please, just please don't fight... "

💪 He looked down at you and smiled lightly, before asking the question you wanted to hear for years

" How about we head to Brunhilde and Göll? I'm sure Humanity needs their biggest supporters beside them. "

🌩️ Thor was not amused when Loki flew into his home carrying you by the foot as you tried your best not to scream, he had threatened you that if you screamed, he'd break your leg, and let's be honest here, we want to not be able to walk for another reason

🌩️ He watched as you tried to free Loki's grip on your ankle and he just looked at you with a happy yet sadistic smile, making Thor's eyebrows furrow

🌩️ Eventually, he sent a bolt of lightning that went between Loki's hand and your ankle, making the God of Mischief drop you onto the ground as Thor grabbed you and carried you away

🌩️ It took a while, but Thor started to seek you out at your new home that was located just outside Asgard that he got for you as a place, since you said you didn't have a home, quite often

🌩️ Your friendship grew into romantic interest after a while, and he began to court you until he proposed a few months later in the same spot you both met

🌩️ While Ragnarok approach fast, Thor was training far more often, which caused your heart to ache a bit, knowing what was going to happen to the one he'd eventually find common ground with in the midst of battle

🌩️ Thor came inside the day before the first round of Ragnarok and sat down to eat diner with you, despite being a God which didn't need much food to survive, he found value and solace in eating a meal with you, it made your lives feel more domestic then ever

🌩️ He noticed how down you looked while one of the workers asked how you both thought Ragnarok would go, and he asked for a minute alone with you, which he got

" My S/O, why are you so down when Ragnarok is mentioned? " " It's just that- well... "

🌩️ After explaining everything to him, Thor was second-guessing what you were saying, but he took the words to heart, maybe the human was stronger than he thinks

🌩️ Nowadays, he and Lü Bu are practically best friends, while you are known as the reason the two strongest people in Valhalla are good friends

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auroreliis · 8 months

Note

Hi, may i request a yandere!batfam where the reader gets a crush on someone at their school?

By the way, your blog is so pretty.

Thank you!

Platonic Yandere!Batfam

Summary: How do they deal with their darling having a crush?

CW: no warnings

(not edited or proofread)

Bruce:

-Very tempted to separate you from your crush

-You probably have to change schools or he'll have Alfred homeschool you

-Tries to be subtle and gentle, but the others are a bad influence on him

Dick:

-He completely invades your privacy in the name of your safety and finds out that way

-If you write in a diary, he reads every entry

-Will be very invasive and pushy when it comes to asking questions about your crush

-He either confronts you alone or gets Alfred or Bruce to tag along

-If you don't answer his questions immediately, he gets obnoxiously whiny

-After a while his personality completely switches and he gets serious, threatening you with punishments

-It's scary how quickly he changes

-No matter how long it takes, you will cave and tell him everything you know

Jason:

-When Jason finds out about your crush, he won't talk to you about it, he won't let you know that he is aware of it

-He will, however, talk to your crush

-Red Hood goes and has a friendly chat with your crush, who happens to move far away and stop contacting you very soon after

-Although he believes that there is nothing redeeming about your crush, he won't ever blame you for falling in love

-He understands that it's normal, besides he is very sure that you're just lonely and desperate for affection

-No worries, your family is here for you

-If he notices your mood declining, he will spend more time with you

-He watches films, plays games and even goes out for ice cream with you, anything to distract you from your former crush

Tim:

-He found out first, because he keeps his eye on you through cameras all the time

-Does a complete background check to make sure they don't pose a threat to you

-No matter what he finds out about them, he will want to cut you off from them as soon as possible

-First, he will talk to Bruce about you breaking off school

-If that fails, he will tell the whole family about your crush, making sure to exaggerate all the negative things about them

-Basically, your whole family now hates your crush and will guilt trip you into disliking them too

-"But they kicked a kitten", Damian's pleading eyes look up at you.

-"They commit tax evasion", Tim frowns.

-"They cheated on their last partner", Jason scowls.

-You're convinced

Damian:

-Protective of you and fully believes that there is not a single person in the universe outside of your family who deserves your affection

-Tries to make your crush seem ordinary by being better than them at everything

-They can draw? Damian can draw better

-They like reading? Damian reads more

-They remember a small detail about you? Damian knows you better than you know yourself

-After a while of outdoing them at everything and convincing you that there is nothing special about them, you stop crushing on them

#should i start writing about the batgirls too?#bruce wayne #yandere bruce wayne #dick grayson #yandere dick grayson #jason todd #yandere jason todd #tim drake #yandere tim drake #damian wayne #yandere damian wayne #dc comics #batfam #platonic yandere #platonic batfam #x reader #yandere batfam

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okkotsuus · 1 year

Note

Can you write the seeing your ex as your boyfriend qwith nagi, shidou, sae, and kaiser?

ex encounters (bllk pt.3) !

features: seishiro n. ryusei s. sae i. michael k.

contents: nagi and ryu are adults bc i need them to be out of blue lock. ig hurt comfort. established relationship. strong language. shidou is himself. violence (shidou). killing threats (shidou). banter. sae treats the ex like rin when he gets back from spain <3. theatrics (kaiser). being physically imposing (all but sae’s shortass). in the kaiser one the ex doesn’t try to get back with the reader. 2.2k words

tw for the exes: childhood lovers. overbearing. falling out of love. got beat up by shidou. narcissist. can’t take a goddamn hint. accusations of cheating. cheating. lack of trust. invasion of privacy (phone). yelling. throwing things. control issues.

pt.1 — pt.2 — pt.4

nagi would be one of two things: annoyed or just not caring. he’ll most likely go from not caring to annoyed if your ex continues to persist or gets too familiar.

you were waiting outside of the stadium for nagi, he had just had a game and you were driving him home because driving was ‘a drag.’ the game had just let out so there were crowds of people pouring out. when something brushes against you, you ignore it; thinking it was just someone who didn’t realize you were standing there while walking past. but when it becomes a repeated tap, you turn in mild annoyance.

y’know, your boyfriend’s soccer game is not really the place you would have expected to see your childhood boyfriend. well, you kind of planned to never see him again, as you had moved far, far away from that town for university. but life was a bitch.

“y/n, hey! didja see the game? that nagi guy was super cool!” he was the exact same, just a little sharper around the edges. but that didn’t mean you exactly wanted to see him, you weren’t friends and you didn’t want to be: plus you already had a boyfriend who you loved very much.

“yeah, he is.” you kept as curt as possible, trying to communicate how little you wanted to talk to him. but you did remember that he was quite pushy with something he wanted. and your memory tends to serve you right, including now.

“say, how about you and i go get a drink? i’d love to catch up with ya!” you hesitated, very much not knowing what to say. thankfully whatever higher power there is decided to be merciful on you and send reinforcements.

reinforcements in the form of your boyfriend, seishiro nagi. “hey, y/n- oh, who’s this?” nagi idly walked to you, allowing you to notice that the stadium had completely cleared out in the time that you had been speaking with your ex. your ex sort of just stares at him for a moment, vaguely starstruck.

“oh my god you know him? that’s all the more reason to get back together with you!” your eyes widen, surprised at his boldness. nagi just stares at the dude, standing closely at your side. he thinks the guy will just eventually go away; but you know better.

“actually, he’s my-”

“let’s go get that drink now, you can bring him too!”

“i’m their boyfriend, you’re annoying.” with that nagi drapes himself over you, resting his head on your shoulder. your ex tries to sputter out a response but the lidded glare that nagi shoots him from behind you quickly shuts him up, leaving him to stumble away.

you just giggle as nagi huffs, grumbling about “how pesky” that was. you turn to rest your forearms on his shoulders, tracing his sleepy face with your eyes. he presses a kiss to your hairline and decides to finally address you.

“glad i didn’t have’ta fight that hard for ya, would’ve, but it would’ve been so tiring…”

shidou would straight up kill the guy if you let him, like you have to physically restrain him or pspsps him back to you like a mf cat so he doesn’t actually murder somebody.

shidou had left you for just one minute to go “take a massive dookie” as he proclaimed so very loudly in the middle of the diner. you were exasperated, but remained in your seat while idly sipping at whatever drink he ordered; payback for publicly embarrassing you yet again.

while he was gone, your food came out, as per policy: it was brought out by the cook. the cook who had, by the spin of a wheel, turned out to be your ex. to be honest, there was nothing wrong with him, the two of you just mutually fell out of love. well, at least you thought.

because here was your ex chatting you up, holding the serving tray which was long emptied of the ordered food. “how’ve you been bab- sorry, y/n?” that’s suspicious. you just mumbled out a one-word response and continued sipping your boyfriend’s drink.

“what do we have here? some bastard swooping in on what’s mine while i went to take a shit!?” shidou’s loud voice booms from the other side of the diner, you began to rapidly chug his drink as payback for the scene you knew he was about to cause.

your ex sort of just gawks at him for a moment, most likely due to what had just come out of his loud-ass mouth. also due to his physicality: he was like a male model with his bigass, lion-esque eyeliner and dyed hair, not to mention the atrocious fit he picked out just because he knew you hated that shirt. shidou was a sight to see, you really wished you didn’t have to look at him, especially since he insisted on making your life a living hell.

shidou sort of lunged at the guy, you felt bad, you really did. but what were you supposed to do, jump in front of him and go “stop!! this isn’t you!!” you would rather die.

“I’LL KILL YOU FUCKER!!” you finished his drink and set it down, letting out a refreshed sigh as you finally decided to deal with your man-child roach boyfriend. he was currently shaking your ex by the collar, a bruise visible just under his left eye.

you grabbed shidou by the back of his collar and yanked, you hoped it would end up ripping that horrendous shirt but it sadly did not. shidou just looked at you, still shaking him.

“pspsps, drop it, don’t make me get the spray bottle.” immediately your ex was released. he kind of just sat on the ground next to the reeling man, who stared up at you through his antenna bangs with a deadpan. you were constantly done with him, but he was also constantly done with you.

“y/n, what the fuck?”

“shhh… good boy, now go pay the tab so we can just leave before the police get here <3” shidou just grumbled and went to go pay the astounded cashier while you wolfed down your food. if you were gonna risk an obstruction of justice charge at least you were gonna eat those damn hash browns.

shidou returned and you dragged him away from his food, which he had brought a box for. while he yelled about that you just kept pulling him out; which he let you.

“i’m not gonna apologize for defending what’s mine, yer mine and the world should fucking know it.”

sae would be so deadpan, to the point where you even begin to wonder if he actually cares. once he gets tired of trying to give your ex a hint he just tells him that he’s “lukewarm” and pulls you away.

the last thing you expected was to be getting hit on by your boyfriend’s opponent. the striker for the team that sae was playing against just happened to be your ex. what can you say, you like soccer players, no shame in having a type.

what you also didn’t expect was for it to be while you were literally standing next to sae, like: your ex sauntered up to you, saw you were with a guy, and proceed to try and rizz you up. it would be funny if you didn’t hate his guts. he’s and egotistic maniac off the field and he sucks on field. its like a child bragging about something their parents did; he gets spoonfed easy shots by the rest of his team.

“hey y/n, whatdya say after we win; you come back to my place? i’ve been meaning to try to ask you out again…” this was the fifth time now that he’s asked that, all of the other times you just dodged it or changed the subject. but you were seriously getting annoyed, and sae’s lack of interest was getting to you.

“no. i have a boyfriend.” he just scoffed at you, clearly not believing you.

“if it’s this guy, i’d expect better from you. unless you wanted to seriously downgrade after dating me!” he began to laugh so obnoxiously that you swear you were about to pop a vein.

a tongue clicked next to you and you saw your boyfriend glowering at the man, as if he were scum on the bottom of his shoe. “you’re lukewarm. i’ll beat you five to zero.”

with that, sae pulled you away from your fuming ex. his hand was gentle in holding yours, contrasting the chilling expression he had displayed on his soft features just seconds earlier. he leads you to your seat in the vip section and goes to warm-up.

sae proceeds to crush your ex 5-0, scoring every single goal. his team is a bit confused but guesses what’s going on when sae counts out the remaining goals to the opposite team’s striker like a countdown.

when the game’s finished, sae walked up to the divider and hops it, pulling you up by your hand and looking directly at the camera.

“this is y/n, they are my significant other, don’t hit on them unless you can beat me at football, like [ex’s name] tried to.”

kaiser would be more offended than you. this dramatic mf would create a whole scene, he’s the one freaking out about it and you’re trying to calm him down. i hate his bitchass.

you had known kaiser for a long time before you started dating him. you met him while you were still with your ex in fact. one thing that your ex hated the most was the fact that you knew him, claiming that he was always trying to ‘get with you.’

he even went as far as to go through your phone to try to find evidence of you cheating on him. but when he looked through your texts with kaiser, he only found our that you already knew that he was actually cheating on you, which was true. your ex had been hitting up others, one of them messaging you after he posted you on your birthday.

you broke up with him that night, because you were already planning to and because you were so mad he looked through your phone. he lost it. you had to shut yourself in the bathroom while he threw dishes and shouted, you called kaiser in tears and had to have him sneak you out of the bathroom window. it was the worst night of your life.

so now when he stands in front of you, while your hand is intertwined with the man who made him so insecure, you were prepared for whatever shitshow was about to happen. what you didn’t expect was kaiser to lose his shit.

“the hell you think yer doin’ here, can’t believe you dare to show your rat face in front of them again.” his voice is cold as he glares at them with his chin tilted up in disgust. you were more amused than anxious now, it was truly endearing that he cared this much.

“tch. i knew you were cheating on me with him, should’ve never let you talk to this bastard.”

“ex-fucking-cuse me?” kaiser was rolling up his sleeves to his elbows and beginning to approach your ex, who began to shrink back. kaiser was not the least intimidating person: his tall stature and lithe muscles coupled with his calculating cerulean gaze made a dangerous figure.

in an effort to keep the peace, you tug at the back of his shirt. he stops immediately and turns to you, gaze turning from hollow to warm so fast that it almost gives you whiplash. you can visibly see his pupils dilate as his gaze reaches yours, just that was enough to fall in love with him.

“c’mon mein Kaiser, don’t let someone like him bother you…” his form loosened, clearly in agreeance. you ex began to shout obscenities, but when the cruel blue gaze reached him again, it was quickly silent. he left in a storming rage, deciding to play it safe.

your boyfriend rests his hands on your hips and rests his forehead against yours, his lashes fluttering shut.

“can’t help it, meine liebe, anyone who dares to hurt you deserves the wrath of dein Kaiser.”

okkotsuus 23

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ineffable-endearments · 9 months

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When you (generic, universal) talk about theories about the end of Season 2 and Aziraphale going to Heaven, you often run up against either:

taking everything at face value to the point of ignoring that some details contradict one another

accidentally nullifying major emotional, plot, and character beats by implying that they Didn't Really Happen.

A lot of the differences in analyses, especially ones that I like (LOL), can be explained by the fact that we're analyzing a character who is experiencing massive cognitive dissonance and believes a number of contradictory things at once.

Nobody is wrong to point out Aziraphale's need to Belong to a Good Cause, which makes his acceptance of the Supreme Archangel position entirely in-character; nobody is wrong to point out Aziraphale's anxiety around the Metatron, which indicates that he may have been coerced.

Did Aziraphale go back to Heaven because he's afraid of what will happen if he keeps refusing, or because the Metatron made an implicit threat? Did he go back to Heaven because he's vulnerable to flattery and wants to feel important? Did he go back to Heaven because he thought it would be a way to be permanently safe with Crowley? Or did he go back because he missed belonging to something Good, something bigger than himself? All of the above. It's all of them.

Yes, even though it's incredibly dissonant to believe a system that he KNOWS is dangerous and coercive can accomplish true Goodness, that is in fact his belief.

Admittedly, this is no one I follow - just random comments I see around from people I don't know very well - but it seems like some people out there are assuming Aziraphale can't possibly be making any plans to do anything remotely intelligent, because this would mean that he is already aware that Heaven is bad and would therefore leave no room for character growth.

Except no, that's not necessarily what it means. In fact, the cognitive dissonance is the main thing he is going to have to resolve. Having that dissonance - the belief that Heaven's ideals are genuine, along with the understanding that Heaven is dangerous and needs to be carefully manipulated - is what will move his plot forward. Mindless obedience wouldn't progress his story any more than magic brainwashing coffee would, and it would be equally inconsistent with his story and motivations so far.

The dissonance is the point. And part of the dissonance is that he already knows Heaven is dangerous - he just hasn't accepted what that means yet. It would make sense for him to simultaneously try to work within Heaven's system and watch his own back.

Also, only partly related: Neil might write a story about how the worst people exploit the need to belong and to be Good. He might write a story about how we have to become our own greater good. He might write a story about how to rebuild after you discover your greater good is not so great or good after all. He is not going to write a story about how having any faith or trust in something objectively bigger and stronger than yourself makes you a stupid clown who is wrong about literally everything and shouldn't have even tried.

Let Aziraphale fuck up. He needs to and he will. Whatever plans he was making in that elevator won't actually succeed. But give him credit where it's due.

Edited to add: And you know what? When he fucks up, he's going to get through it. And then he's going to do the right thing. And he's going to get it right when it matters the most.

#good omens #good omens 2 spoilers #go s2 spoilers #aziraphale #I am like SO SENSITIVE about Aziraphale because look #during the Final Fifteen he is the one saying the more hurtful things #and he is the one being misled back to an objectively bad place #but he is trying SO SO HARD #and I see myself in how incredibly hard he's trying

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mrsnancywheeler · 4 months

Text

the lakes (12) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

previous chapter / next chapter

masterlist

7.9k words

warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, extreme mental health issues, suicidal ideations, gore/violence/death, self-hate, allusions to trafficking, use of explicit language, more angst, mentions of vomiting, dissociation, terms of endearment, unedited, no use of y/n, a codependent couple with a shared savior complex, paranoia

When you'd realized the monkey mutts had stopped where the beach began you wanted to collapse into the sand in relief. All you could do was stare on as Peeta tried to comfort the Morphling woman who'd sacrificed herself for him before her body was raised from the waters. Even if Plutarch was supposedly in on the plan, it seemed like the arena couldn't wait to kill you all off as soon as possible. The conversation switched to finding food, another thing your brain couldn't care less about. You supposed you should be from all the running, fighting, and sweating, but you just had a huge pit in your stomach as you thought about how Finnick could have died not long ago.

It had always been a possibility that you were very consciously aware of, but the imminent threat wasn't really present. You had no qualms that he would be able to protect himself, yet he hadn't been able to when the fog came rolling in. Well, he would have been able too if hadn't come to Peeta's rescue, but to get out, that was a requirement. Adrenaline has kept you going after that, when the monkeys attacked, but the dread filling you now was like lead.

“Hey," One of Finnick's warm, calloused hands cupped your face, “What's going on, sweet girl?" His face had that endearing always somewhat cocky smirk on it that was a permanent source of comfort in your life. But you just stared at him, at those ocean eyes you would drown in if given the chance. The look in his eyes shifted to one of higher concern, “Are you hurt?" He looked up and down your figure, looking for sounds, tilting your head to see the back, looking for signs of infection and grew more concerned when he found nothing to send off alarms. “Angel, you gotta tell me what's wrong." He urged.

You tried to blink yourself out of your stupor, "Nothing just wanna be with you.”

"You are with me.”

"Yeah I know.” He looked at you suspiciously, but knew better than to push. You grabbed this hand and he squeezed it, pulling you along as he went on his search for oysters. When he was sure he found a spot and began his digging you sat down in the water. Letting the soft waves ripple across your legs, if you closed your eyes you could pretend to be home again, this was so similar.

“I'd never leave you alone, you know?" Finnick's voice brought you back from the fantasy and you looked at him quizzically. He was still digging through different areas, of course the oysters were in such unnatural places, that was a reminder of how fake the fantasy was. "I'd always come back to you. You don't have to worry about me leaving you behind, or making you feel abandoned.” You looked away, staring at the glistening waters once again. There was no words you could think of to say, you wondered if you were still in shock, it felt nothing like how it had been described, but maybe this was all some weird, fucked up trauma response the universe had left you with as further punishment. Your mind was blank of anything other than how he, your amazing, smug, caring, generous, loving Finnick could actually be taken from this world and it would keep on spinning without him. Then his hand grabbed yours once again and he effortlessly pulled you from the water to walk with him back to Katniss and Peeta.

You laid your head on Finnick's shoulder as everyone began to eat. He opened one of the oysters up and offered it to you, but you just shook your head. There was no room for hunger, no room for anything except trepidation.

He shook his head back at you, “You need to eat." Finnick offered it back to you, he was so bossy and it made you love him even more.

“I'm not hungry, Finn." You knew you were exposing yourself with the nickname, which you only used when you felt most vulnerable, but it slid off your tongue so easily in the moment.

“You're gonna talk to me now?" He asked playfully, trying to lighten the load. You scowled at him, lightheartedly elbowing him in his side and he laughed.

“You're so mean to me." You burrowed your head back into his shoulder.

He scoffed, “I just put all my effort into a monologue of my devotion to you and then you decided staring at the waters which are in front of us all the time was more interesting.”

He was right of course even if it was all in jest, but you weren't going to let him win regardless of that fact. “It was hardly a monologue-" He turned to you abruptly, you frowned when your head lost contact with your shoulder but he grabbed your hands in his.

“I don't understand why you have cared about and loved me so deeply, except in the way that I know that's how I feel about you. You being here is the bane of my existence because I know that there isn't a day I could live without seeing your smile or sweet domesticity. You don't understand why I want to protect you so badly, but it's the same way you want to protect me. There isn't a universe where I could leave you when I know you need me, I married you as a promise that I would always return to you, protect you even if you're stubborn and here anyways. Death couldn't part me from a world that you were still in.” His sea green eyes were so serious and it did reverberate within your heart, but you still let yourself laugh.

"You are such a sweet-talker.” You announced with an eye roll, knowing he was right about how you felt. Except maybe selfishly if death parted the two of you, the only assumption you had made was he'd find someone else, some other smarter, braver, prettier partner who only couldn't compare to you in their adoration of him, but maybe that was a stretch as well.

“And you are impossible to please." He quickly packed your lips which left your yearning for his honey-dripping lips for seconds longer, if you suffocated with them on your own it would be the happiest you'd ever be. “Now eat, my love." You could melt into the sand thinking about how this man would pour out a heartfelt monologue just for you to leave your head long enough to eat, he was perfect, there would never be anyone else like him, and there never had been. He was it for you.

Screams interrupted your thoughts and you instantly stood up, “That's new." Peeta said as he rose as well, you all stood, staring across the beach where water seemed to be overflowing a portion of the jungle. Flooding that rushed from the trees and was so tall it was as high as the Cornucopia that bounced against, leaving large waves to rush up your feet. A drone came to pick up a body and it solidified in your brain that regardless of what Plutarch had planned these were never meant to be long Games, nor particularly violent with all the events occuring.

“Someone's here." Katniss said sharply, quickly pulling out an arrow, ready to shoot. You looked at the figures approaching from the jungle, not too far away. The aggressive motions of one of the figures nearly instantly told you who it was.

“Johanna." You whispered out and then Finnick was running forward.

“Johanna!" He shouted, catching her attention. You followed after him as she yelled back at him. Beetee and Wiress instantly run into the water when you realize Johanna’s figure was so obscured because she was covered head to toe in blood.

“Oh my god, what got you?" You asked, there was no way that much was hers or even someone else's. It was clotted in her hair, her skin, each piece of fabric.

“We were all the way, deep into the jungle where I thought it was going to be safe. That's when the rain started, I thought it was water, it turns out to be blood. Hot, thick blood, coming down. It was choking us! We were stumbling around, gagging on it blind.” Johanna signs through her explanation, ignoring Wiress’ mutters of tick, tock, tick, tock. Which you push away as well as just Wiress being Wiress. “That's when Blight hit the forcefield, he wasn't much, but he was from home.”

"What's wrong with her?” Katniss asks about Wiress, still muttering.

“She's in shock." Beetee is washing the blood of his glasses in the sea water. “Dehydration isn't helping, do you have fresh water?"

“We can get some."

Wiress is clinging to Johanna, desperately repeating her mantra. Who's trying to shove the older woman off, for most of you this is just the dynamic that's been accepted. You've each accepted a role to maintain relationships with one another, Wiress the crazy one, and Johanna the aggressive one. Katniss is put off and runs to Johanna, ready to fight.

“Hey what're you doing?" Johanna yells, Finnick trying to pull her away as you try to get between her and Katniss. “I got them out for you!” They're finally ripped apart when Peeta has his arms around a visibly confused Katniss. "Let go of me, Finnick!”

"Let's just go get you cleaned off.” You tilt your head walking with her and Finnick into the water. "I'm sorry about Blight.”

"Yeah.” She says gruffly as she dunked her head into the water, blood instantly beginning to spread into the once clear waters.

"And I didn't really get to thank you for saving me earlier, so thank you, Johanna.”

"Well I'm sure he would've killed me himself if I hadn't.” She nodded her head at Finnick. “Better go make a better impression with the Girl on Fire over there." She rolled her eyes, stalking over in that direction.

“Deep down she appreciates a thank you." Finnick's wrapped his arms around you from behind and you sway in the water. You hummed in agreement, just enjoying the feeling of his arms around you. What you would give for this to be the two of you in your kitchen back home is immeasurable as well as the things you would do to get that back.

“Were you serious though?" You blurt out, forcing yourself to acknowledge your feelings with him. There's a beat which you figure must be confusion as he tries to figure out what you're referring too. Before you have a chance to add on, he'd seemingly figured it out though.

“Of course I was serious. You don't have to worry because you're not gonna get rid of me that easily, angel." He chuckles, his lips pressed to the side of your head. You nod slowly,

“Thank you." You mumbled out, embarrassed that you'd even let the anxiety take over, but also not completely convinced. It felt shameful that no amount of words or actions was seemingly able to convince the deepest parts of your soul of anything but the worst.

“It's a clock!" Katniss yelled out catching everyone's attention, she helped Wiress out of the water where they've been sitting and began walking towards the Cornucopia . “This entire arena seems to be laid out like a clock, with a new threat every hour, but they stay only within their wedge.” Katniss explains and you all follow her, "It all starts with the lightning, then the blood rain, fog, monkeys, that's the first four hours. At 10 that big wave points from over there.” She points forward, Wiress stops walking. As if she's cautious of something.

“Wiress, you're a genius." Finnick smiles as you all keep trekking forward.

“The tail points at 12." Peeta observes when you reach the shining Cornucopia.

“That's where the lighting strikes at noon and midnight.” Katniss further explains.

“Strikes where?" Beetee asks, holding his coil of wire close.

“That big tree." She points once more and Beetee seems pleased, Wiress sits down on the edge of the rocks murmuring a nursery rhyme to herself.

"Great job, Wiress. We'll try and listen more next time.” You patted her shoulder before following the rest of the group to where a circle is being drawn out in the sand. Dividing it up in the clock like sectors of the arena. Trying to find out what comes next in each portion of the arena.

“It doesn't matter as long as we steer clear of whichever sect is active, we'll be safe, yeah?”

" Relatively speaking.” Finnick nods along and then Wiress' ambience of nursery rhymes is quiet and she gasps. Your head shoots towards where she would be and there's Gloss, knife in Wiress' chest. Before you'd even had a chance to react Katniss’ arrow had pierced through his chest, you'd no clue where she'd come from, but you could hear a sound of outrage from Cashmere. You followed the sound and saw her lunging forward, blindly trying to avenge her brother. Without a second thought you'd shoved Katniss out of the way and a knife was flying out of your hand into Cashmere's heart. Her head hit the ground and that dreadful buildup of guilt was returning. She'd always been kind to you, there were amicable jokes and small complaints to one another at parties. An understanding that you'd struggled through the same, ever present issues and now you were once again the person cutting that life short after allowing a bond to be created. But you had to keep Katniss safe, to get her out of the arena, regardless of the consequences.

The Career pack had seemingly crept up on all of you, Finnick and Peeta were fighting off the attacks of Brutus and Enobaria. Your next knife barely missed Enobaria as she fled to the other side of the Cornucopia, Katniss’ arrow doing similarly with Brutus. Peeta tried to run after them, even if people talked about him like he was the weaker one, you'd seen from the way he trained with Brutus that it was anything, but true. Finnick knew that regardless of Peeta's strength he needed to be protected, kept alive, so he blocked him from the chase. Katniss; however, did try to follow after them, make sure the two were gone, Johanna followed behind. Under no circumstances could you let the Mockingjay get hurt, Peeta was because of that, but she was the one you'd been instructed to get out.

You looked over at Finnick, trying to communicate with him that you'd be following and he gave a curt nod. Only a few steps in though you were completely thrown off your balance, your brain started buzzing. You weren't sure what was going on except that your hands were desperately searching for crevices in the rocks to hold onto. The force of the wind whipped at your skin so hard it genuinely hurt and your fingers tried not to slip on the wet rocks. It was spinning, the Cornucopia was spinning around at full force, trying to throw you off, you tried to calm down. Focus on seeing if you could spot Finnick through the water sprays and the way it hit your face in harsh droplets. It wasn't that different from being on a boat, crabbing when the weather got difficult, being tossed around. Maybe if you shut your eyes that's what you could imagine this was, but then your hands were slipping and you were trying to force your body to stay still. Fingers blindly searching for another crevice, rocks scratching at them as you tried to dig your fingers into the rock. Body sliding down, it didn't matter that you could swim, if the impact was too harsh you could go unconscious on impact and no amount of experience in the water could save you from that.

Finnick would be okay though, if anyone was fine it would surely be him. He'd know exactly where to place his grip, he'd be strong enough to hold on, he could probably hold onto someone else too. Those thoughts are quickly cut short when you hear yourself screaming as something, something sharp, has lodged itself into your back. Breathe, you tell yourself digging your fingers into the rock deeper. Something is tearing into your back, the pressure of the wind definitely isn't helping, and you're barely able to focus on keeping hold of the slick rocks. Through the wind you can hear more screams, shouts, too obscure to make out who the belong to, but it reminds you that you need to survive long enough to rescue Katniss, you need to keep holding on.

Finally, the movement is slowing down, at least you think it is, maybe your perception of speed has just changed. By the time the Cornucopia comes to a stop you still feel dizzy, like a phantom of the spinning. When your brain stops buzzing the pain in your back is worse than you expected. It's torturous to try and stand, but you bite your lip, trying not to groan as you stand. Your legs are wobbly at first and then you hear Finnick call your name.

“Finnick there's something in my back." He's running towards you, eyes full of concern. Your taking deep breaths to try and move through the pain, “I need you to take it out."

Soon he's behind you and before you can say anything more his hand grabs yours from behind, "This is gonna hurt a lot-”

"Don't tell me, just rip it out, like a bandaid.”

"Angel, I can't do that. I'll do it as fast as I can, but I can't just tear it out without causing more damage." His fingers are rubbing circles on the back of your hand.

You're crying a little and even though it causes more pain you laugh a little, “It's one of those stupid scalpel chains isn't it?"

“Yeah, sweet girl, squeeze my hand as hard as you need too." You're nodding, putting the free arm to your mouth to try and muffle yourself if you scream at all. Trying not to bite when you realize this is just as excruciating as the fog had been, fingernails digging into Finnick's hand as he pulls out each piece of the chain. “I've got you, angel, it's okay." By the time all the pressure from the chain has left your back you feel faint. “There we go, all done, you did such a good job." There's no chance to acknowledge him when you're letting yourself run to the edge so you can hurl into the water.

You force yourself to keep standing, “How bad is it?"

“Just deep enough to stick, but you're gonna be okay.” Finnick helps you steady yourself, avoiding the tender wounds on your back.

"Let's just get what we need and get off this bloody island." Johanna says and everyone complies.

“I can carry you, if you want." Finnick offers, already helping you across the rocks.

“I can walk, Finnick, I'm sure soon enough we'll be hit with something else that gives me enough adrenaline that I won't even feel it." You shrug, trying to force yourself to have good spirits. “And I still think hypothermia was worse so-"

He lets himself laugh, shaking his head, “You say that about everything."

“Because it's true! I was so cold that I felt like I was on fire and I was seeing things, I'm sure my back can take a few hits."

"Okay, angel, whatever you say.”

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You don't know how long had passed since they stripped you of your wet, muddied, bloodied clothes, or since they injected you with something that made you pass out until you woke with seemingly no injuries to remind you of the past except the stitches in your side. You do know that now they've allowed you rest, before you're thrust back into the Capitol to be seen, to be crowned. The blankets felt like the softest thing to ever grace your skin and the mattress itself is a blessing, but you can't appreciate it when your eyes bore into the wall, guilt infesting your bloodstream.

Light floods into the room and you fear that you've been lost in your head for so long it's already time for them to play dress up with your lifeless body. But his scent is something you've always known instantly, saltwater, sand, the smell of home. You don't even look at him, there's no point, you need the darkness to engulf you and let you have a redo.

“I wish you let me die in that arena." You don't recognize your own voice, so hoarse, so numb.

He took a cautious step into the room, “I know." Finnick sounds like he's already resigned himself to this, to whatever this is. You finally tear your eyes from the walls, briefly having let them pass over his figure, but doing nothing more than scooting over. You hope he got the message you silently urged for and of course he does, he gets you so well. When his body heat is by yours once again, you resent that you're able to have it, that you fought to have it.

‘You don't deserve to cry,’ is what you had begun to tell yourself the moment they grabbed you from that arena. The tears of a murderer do little to those whose blood they've shed. Yet when his hand is cupping your cheek, you feel the tears returning. The longer the silence persists, the better you'll be able to hold back from crying, but eventually you succumb to the uprising of tears and you've probably stained whatever Finnick is wearing.

“He's my best friend Finnick." Was. He was your best friend. Before you dug your talons in, chewed up the parts you needed, and kept the blood on your hands. That bright, beautiful boy that by all means you were supposed to end up with. You'd resisted that ending so much the universe had seemingly decided to make it a tragedy instead. “My best friend." His home was yours, his family was one with you, but you had to be selfish and greedy, so karma took its place.

Finnick's hands cradled your head, and you let yourself push away just to melt right back into them. “And he tried to kill you."

It made you seethe, how dare he be right, "Because I used him, I did that to him. He should have killed me, I'm not meant for this, Finnick.”

"Angel, the Capitol is eating out of your hand, you go out there, you smile and laugh, they love it. And then you walk straight off that stage to me.” You've sat up, trying to stop the hyperventilation that's taken control of your body. You can feel his hands on yours, trying to guide your breathing, but your brain felt too loud to even attempt to follow.

“Why'd you let me do it? You should've told me it was stupid, you should've let him win. He has a family who cares about him, oh my god his family!" Maybe it's not fair to blame Finnick, it had been your idea after all, but it helps because you felt like the insurmountable grief would eat you alive.

He pressed his forehead to yours, “I know, I know, angel, I'm sorry." Later you'll feel more remorse for what you said, but now you could barely breathe.

"You'd said you wanted to keep me safe and now I've screwed it all up because the world is punishing me."

Finnick had gone back to trying to steady your face, for his hands to calm you, which only works to remind you every one in a while to breathe. “Nothing is punishing you, this isn't your fault."

“No, it is, it's all my fault, Finnick! I couldn't just be satisfied with how my life was supposed to be. I wanted you so bad and pushed away my fate and so now the universe has to punish me"

“Stop it." His voice is grounded, caring but stern like the way he's been holding your face. “Don't do that, sweet girl, no one is getting retribution against you for anything.”

"What are the odds? Who does that happen to, Finnick? I just happened to get pulled in the same year as my best friend who everyone knows I'm supposed to end up with and then suddenly you want me again?”

"The odds are never in anyone's favor. And I wanted you anyways.”

You've begun scratching at your chest, which you've never done before, but the newfound anxieties seem to have taken over. But Finnick instantly is pulling your hands away. "I'm not meant for this, I'm just supposed to be the person who gets married and lives in some small house on the beach, who goes to the markets, not this.”

“And you put on a show for them, angel, and then we get to go back home and live that life as much as possible. You only have to keep the act up for them." You didn't have it in you to keep explaining otherwise, you were exhausted, although part of you told yourself you'd be better off without sleep, that you didn't deserve rest. Finnick could of course sense it all and pulled you into his chest. The warmth you'd so missed finally fully surrounding you, protecting you from everything, even your own thoughts for a little while. It was a heat you so desperately craved and the idea you'd never feel it again had haunted you when you'd almost died in the cold. So you nuzzled yourself deeper into his chest, "Get some rest, sweet girl.” His lips pressed to the top of your head.

Your brain refused to rest peacefully, but if you so much as mumbled in your sleep Finnick was there to soothe you until it passed and eventually he was waking you. For a moment, when your eyes had just fluttered open, it was easy to imagine that it was just you and Finnick back home, that none of that had occurred had ever happened. Maybe if you convince yourself of that delusion for long enough it would be an easy enough fantasy to slip into whenever you needed to give the Capitol a facade of joy. You were a victor after all.

“They're just going to do the same process that happened before the parade before your stylist gets whatever she had planned ready. I'll be there when you're done."

"Finnick, I'm sorry.”

"You don't have to apologize to me.” He understood what you'd gone through, he'd been there too and even though you knew that it still felt cruel to have blamed him for anything related to your actions.

"I-” He interrupted you with a kiss, you'd almost forgot what his mouth was like, the taste of honey on his lips.

"I’ll meet you after, angel.” He parted ways with you at the sleek, silver door to a scarily, clinical room. Soon enough you were being surrounded by a flock of your designing team to get your primped to the nines.

“You literally had me on the edge of my seat, it was divine." One of them squawked, making sure your body was completely devoid of any hair they hadn't specially planned to be there. You simply smiled as gratefully as you could, nodding along with each remark they made.

“We need more games like you, I mean they're all interesting, but you brought such a kick to it. One of the most entertaining by far!" One squealed, trimming your nails. Making a small look of disgust when he pulled out the dried mud and blood lodged underneath your fingernails.

“Oh, you'll be a must have at my big birthday gala next month. You will come won't you?” The woman with bright green hair who was powdering something onto your face asked eagerly.

“Of course, you've all done so much for me!" Your face hurt from the forced smiles as you gushed, and they oohh’d and aahh’d at your performance.

“You are the sweetest little thing, I could just burst!" The green haired woman waved her hands around expressively, the others nodding along with her.

“Anyone who doesn't already love you, will have to now!" The man announced, putting down your hand.

“Well we've done the makeup Cambrie requested, so we’ll let her know you're ready for the dress. It's simply divine. You'll wait right in there." You were ushered into a much more comfortable looking room and the smell of food instantly made you salivate. You'd forgotten how long it had been since you'd last eaten, especially something more than small fish, rabbits, berries, and nuts. Instantly you dove into each dish you could, eager to finally fill your stomach that has longed for food for over a week now.

You'd nearly eaten your fill when Cambrie’s bright voice filled the room. “I knew it would be you, I told everyone I could how much of a sweetheart you were! And now everyone wants one of my looks. You are such a blessing!” She kissed both of your cheeks,"You know what they're calling you?” You shook your head, not sure if you really wanted to know. "A Princess!” She squealed, obviously filled with glee."That's amazing to work with."

You smiled as big as you could to match hers, “Oh I'm flattered, but why that?"

“I mean look at you, the sweet, little girl from District 4 with two men pining to have her. Not a slob like some of the victors from past years, perfectly kind and refined." If it was considered kind and refined to manipulate and kill other children, then you guessed you would fit the bill. “So your dress reflects that, the princess style as one would say. I would've loved to incorporate a tiara, but since you'll be crowned at the end of the night we had to forego that."

The dress shimmered like the ocean in sunlight,"It's beautiful.” You said starting at the gown, it felt wrong to dressed in the Capitol's finest as Conway was being shipped in a wooden coffin back home.

“Just like you!" Cambrie clapped her hands together before leading you out of the room to where you'd wait to be presented back in front of Panem. Finnick immediately caught your eye and you resisted running straight to him.

“You look beautiful." He had a twinkle in his eye, that made you want to slip back into the fantasy that all of this wasn't because you'd won the Hunger Games, that it was just a regular day.

“You're not too bad yourself.” You shrugged with a playful smile. Then faster than anticipated it was time to go, Finnick squeezed your hand encouragingly. You let your smile fall for a fraction of a second to take a deep breath before plastering it back on.

“You've got this.” He whispered, kissing your hand before releasing it as you walked towards the steps of the stage.

“You know her, you love her, our very own Capitol Princess and victor of the 69th Annual Hunger Games!" He shouted your name into the microphone to a resounding applause as you walked onto the stage. Making sure to wave to everyone you could each of whom flailed their arms in excitement. “I think I speak for all of us when I say we're very excited to have you back." People cheered in agreement as you let out an airy laugh in response.

“Well Ceaser, I'm glad to be back, everyone is so kind!" You were smiling so hard your nose scrunched up, in hopes that they found it adorable.

“I would ask you what you're most excited for now that you're back, but I think we know the answer to that one." He quirked his eyebrows and the audience murmured in agreement.

You felt your face getting hot and looked down shyly, “Oh Ceaser-" You tried to make yourself seem as much like a hopeful romantic, innocent girl as you could. Maybe it could reverse the effects that manipulating Conway may have had on how you were perceived.

“Am I right? Have you been able to rekindle flames with a certain Capitol Darling?" You hid your face in your hands for a second, kicking your legs, the audience laughed, and you were certain there must be cameras somewhere planted on Finnick to try and capture a reaction. "I think we know what that means.” Caesar shot his blinding smile at the crowd who cheered.

“All I can say is there are many things I'm excited to return to, and people." You'd accepted since your interview that if you did win then your romantic life would be of great interest to the Capitol, so you didn't shy away from playing into it, giving a small, longing look off the side of the stage that the cameras would be sure to pick up.

“And I suppose for now you'll make us settle for that as an answer?"

“For now, Caesar, a woman has to have her secrets." You repeated, alluding back to your original interview, and the audience gave a playful groan.

"Well then, for now, that's an answer we'll have to be happy with. But I know we're all burning to go over these highlights with you.” The highlights, your moment to try and keep up the persona while rewatching the moments already ingrained into your mind. Everyone watching seemed eager with anticipation of the cheers were any indicator.

“I wouldn't want to keep anyone waiting then." Your gaze was purposely wide and as doe-eyed as you could make it be. The Bloodbath was first, your kills, the alliance and you were able to maintain the facade as he pestered you about your abilities with the knife. You distracted your brain with how cold the auditorium seemed to be, how thin the fabric of the dress was which left you trying not to shiver. Then it was conversations with Conway and you tried even harder to play into the act while trying to detach yourself from reality.

“I know some people were definitely rooting for you and Conway in the tragedy of it all, but I have to ask, and I want you to be honest. Did you love him?"

“He was my closest friend in the world, of course I loved him." Not like how he wanted you too, or how you knew logically you should have loved him, but it was love. Your voice was soft, sweet, and trembled with the fear of tears. Which you decided could actually be helpful at some point to keep painting yourself in this light.

You could have sworn you saw audience members crying, not because they cared about you, or him, but because to them this was a tale of tragedy that added a kick to their entertainment. Caesar hummed, “But you loved someone else more?" His voice was softer in the microphone as well.

You looked at him, “Only one of us was going to come out of the arena, it wasn't a matter of who I loved more." What a lie, if it was Finnick you were certain you'd give it all up for him in a split second. Sounds of sobs filled your ears and you pushed down the anger you felt at these people for how they'd ripped your life, Conway's life apart , just to cry over it now. Next was the highlight where you'd almost died and that was much easier to talk about, besides the fact that you could currently feel how cold your nose was getting which made your body want to curl up, you took every muscle to resist that impulse though.

“What were you thinking when that parachute was flying down from the sky?"

“Honestly, Caesar, it's fuzzy, but I'm pretty sure I was hallucinating." You forced a nervous laugh which the audience returned in full force and so did Ceased. You turned your body to face them, “However since then all I've wanted to say is thank you, to all of you who sponsored me during the games." The tears about Conway you let spill in full force about this instead, silently hoping it would win even more people over. “I'm just so grateful for all the generosity you've shown me and I will forever be." The crowd gave out noises of approval.

When the coverage of the battle between your allies and the Careers began and all the way up to those you cared about most in those Games, you let your soul float into the clouds. Allowing a smiley, teary eyed autopilot to take over your brain. You don't remember leaving autopilot until you were seated in some sort of throne-like chair, President Snow giving a speech to the citizens of Panem. He turned to you and you rose as he approached you with a crown, a crown that represented how you backstabbed your way to the top.

You bowed your head slightly as he placed the cold metal on your head, “Wonderful job, my dear." He said gruffly with a smile and although you could feel your body shaking, you forced one back.

“Thank you, Mr. President."

Yet he reiterated his statement in a way that gave you chills that you couldn't understand, “A wonderful job, you've really proven what these games are about."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

"Did we leave the spile in one of the trees?” You ask, dehydration certainly isn't helping how lightheaded you felt.

Peeta nods, “Yeah, impossible to know which one though."

"I'll go find it then.” You volunteered.

"I need to give the beach a good walk around, as well, let my brain finish thinking something up.” Beetee stood up, coil of wire in hand.

“You're not going alone." Finnick objected, ready to go with you.

“I'm not going alone, I have Beetee. We'll be fine, Finnick, it's a circle you'll be able to see us the whole way around." He looked reluctant, but knew there wasn't much he could do unless he followed you around, but he couldn't leave Johanna to take care of both Katniss and Peeta.

He sighed, “Be safe." His tone was even, straight-laced, “Beetee make sure she doesn't do anything stupid."

You scoffed, “I'm looking for a spile!" But Beetee nodded to Finnick. “I’ll be fine! If I need you I'll scream." He exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

“I'll send out a search party if you're not back in 20 minutes."

You looked around the arena slowly before looking back at him, “I'm sure there's no way of telling, but I'll be back. I promise." You smiled and he's still frowning, but he kisses your forehead and lets you walk off with Beetee.

“20 minutes!" He shouts after you as you begin walking around the perimeter of the beach, looking around the trees.

“So what's your plan with that?" You nod towards the coil Beetee is fiddling with.

“We've got water, lighting, a conductor, everything we need to electrocute." Beetee responds, you're ducking in and out of the trees. Searching for where the spile could be nestled in. You're far enough that you can't really see the group through all the trees, but that doesn't bother you until you hear a scream. It's far enough away that it's faint, screams of a young girl and then Katniss. You and Beetee are looking around, listening to the noise that's carried only by the breeze, when another voice enters the cacophony. It's familiar to you, but your brain struggles to process the sound. “That's you." Beetee says slowly.

Your brain does; however, instantly register the next scream, calling your name, Finnick. Instantly you'd ran out of the treeline back into the sand, back to where you'd left the group. “Finnick!" You screamed back, heart racing in panic. “Johanna, where's Finnick?" Both him and Katniss are gone, you can hear their shouts on top of the other noises.

“He followed her in." Johanna tilted her head towards the jungle and your legs instantly started moving, to find him, to show him the screams aren't really you. “It's already closed off, you can't go in."

"What do you mean, closed off?” You get your answer instantly when your hands touch the shield surrounding the woods the screams are coming from. You see Katniss running forward screaming and Peeta comes up by you, telling her it's just the birds. What birds? She's being hounded by them as she falls to the ground and you realize the screams are coming from them.

“Jabberjays." Beetee says, coming up behind you. You let your hands trace along the wall as you keep walking.

“What're you doing?" Johanna asks, exasperated.

“I have to find him, if he can at least see me-" Her scoff interrupts you but you keep darting your eyes through the trees in this clear cage, following it.

“He knows by now that it's not really you.”

"I know that!” You don't mean to snap at her, it frustrates you that you even pulled your eyes away from the jungle. "I know him, Johanna, and if he can see me then he'll know for certain that I'm okay." You're about to turn in the jungle as you follow the wall but Johanna grabs your arm, you start to shove her off. “Let go of me!”

"You go in there and it could be the next hour, the moment those stupid mutts are done, whatever is in there you'll be stuck with.”

"I don't care!”

She grabs you again, "But he does!” The frustration makes you want to cry all over again. She's right and that infuriates you, looking back inside the bubble when you catch a glimpse of him. Sitting, knees to his chest, covering his ears as he whispers something to himself, eyes clenched shut as birds flutter around him.

You don't care if he can't hear you when you hit the wall, “Finnick! Finnick!" Johanna mumbles something, but you don't listen. Too busy trying to beg him to look your way, but he doesn't. All you can do is watch him as he talks to himself, the way his fingers dig into the side of his head, how hurt he looks. You hate yourself, for disregarding him to go search for the stupid spike, for letting him be there for you and now not being there for him. "There's gotta be a way to break it.” Your voice cracks.

"I helped design the technology, it's unbreakable." Beetee’s voice is quiet in the clamor going on in your head. You hate him too right now for giving them this, something to stop you from getting to him. Forehead pressed to the wall as you let yourself cry, let the shame take over your body. You've forced yourself to keep your eyes on him, to suffer more, a just punishment for allowing this to happen. If you'd stayed out then the screams wouldn't have ever lured him in deeper. At some point he removed his hands from his ears and began to stare forward numbly. Allowing the birds to screech in his ears with your stolen voice, you resent yourself more for not trying harder, for letting him slip into such a state even if there was nothing more to do. Centuries seem to pass when suddenly there's a silence and your head falls forward, the wall is gone, the birds are lying on the jungle floor.

Instantly you're running forward, you want to scream out in relief that it's finally over, but you're terrified to startle him. You kneel down in front of him, there are streaks on his face from what must have been tears, but now he's just blank. “Finn?" It's whispered, so as not to put him on alert.

Slowly his eyes moved to your face, at first it's somewhat untrusting, like he doesn't believe it's really you. The worry on your face must prove to him otherwise because that look is soon gone.

“Are you okay?" You know the answer is no, but you don't know what else to say, too guilt ridden to think of a way to help.

“Yeah, I'm fine." He mutters and you nod just kneeling by him.

Your stomach is churning, it felt like your blood was full of pure, unfiltered anxiety, so you force your foot not to tap, but you can feel your toes twitching. “I'm sorry.” You croaked out and he shook his head again, "No, I am, I'm sorry Finnick. I should've stayed with you, I should've-"

“Are you hurt?" His hoarse voice asks, it's numb like the way his eyes are.

“No, Finnick, I was fine, I am fine!"

“Then it doesn't matter." He shrugs.

“It matters to me." Finnick looks at you, like your words are finally sinking into him. Cautiously you bring your hands up to his, “Do you wanna go to the beach? We can, we can go there." Besides the fact he always wanted to be at the beach back home, that was especially true when the episodes of not being able to ignore the burden on his shoulders happened. Your own uncertainness made you angry with yourself, he was always putting on a facade to be strong when you needed him too and now when it was your turn, you couldn't even stop your voice from shaking. His head moved ever so slightly, “Yeah? Come on." Slowly you began to rise, keeping your hands on his as he stood as well. As carefully as you could you guided him back to the sands of the beach, to the waters.

He instantly submerged himself in the water as he sat down, letting waves rise on him. You followed suit, wrapping your arms around him and he leaned back into you. “Don't leave me either." Finnick eventually spoke, the setting sun highlighting his face.

You shook your head furiously, “I won't." Maybe you didn't understand what about you he found grounded or endeared him, but you did know you never wanted to see or even think of him the way you just had, again. You also accepted there would never be a day where you didn't think about it, what you did, how he looked, how he acted, how scared he seemed. It would haunt you and you would let it, if only to make sure it never happened again. Part of you wished the seawater would consume the both of you here, forever immortalize you with it and make sure there was never a moment you could be parted from each other's arms. Yet a larger piece of you was more determined than ever to execute the plan the best you could so you could be free of the control and mind games of the Capitol, so you could just live the rest of your life out with Finnick the way you'd both intended. To end it all, no matter what it took, so nobody else would have to live the life of the so-called ‘Victor.’

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

I cannot thank you all enough for reading, this was a longer one and I'm sorry it took so long to get out. feedback, likes, comments, reblogs, are all super appreciated and my ask box is open, I'm slowly getting through requests as well! you're all so amazing and sweet, it's really kept my passion for this series alive and I have so many ideas. again thank you all so much for reading 💋

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hannie-dul-set · 6 months

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모기 / MOGI — [c.bg].

SYNOPSIS. in which all of your life, you and beomgyu have been stuck together like glue whether you liked it or not. and as much as you want to change that, life seems to have different plans.

PAIRING. choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRE. childhood friends to not quite friends (derogatory) to not quite friends (endearment), romance, humor, very light-barely there angst, pining idiots, college! au with flashes to high school, featuring an ensemble of 01z idols. WARNINGS. swearing, many many (fake) death threats, so much secondhand embarrassment, mentions of sex, mentions of blood and gore, the worldly problems of a teenager, mc has anger issues, gossip. WORD COUNT. 14k.

TAGLIST. @matcha-binz @bgomtori @lotties-posts @bearbeom @bbinwrld @beomies-world @baekberrie @20-cms @jenodreamer

NOTE. it is here! alternatively titled: all the reasons you don't like choi beomgyu (but maybe you do). this is just a v quick v fun read (i hope HAHHAHA). parts in past tense and within parenthesis are set in the past! hope you enjoy mosquito gyu and please let me know what you think! begging for crumbs of feedback plspls.

YOU DON’T LIKE CHOI BEOMGYU. He’s been a thorn in your side for as long as you can remember— a far too nimble mosquito for you to catch and swat away, constantly buzzing around your ears like a mild annoyance. Mild, but annoying all the same.

The problem is, you can’t get rid of him. Not when both your families have been friends before either of you were even born. Not when you’ve been half-living in his house for the better part of your life and he’s been half-living in yours. Not when you’ve always been magically assigned to the same class for twelve god damned years and somehow, you’re now even set out to go to the same university.

It’s like the world just wants to stick the both of you together.

“Hey, fuckface.”

“What do you want, dipshit?”

Unfortunately for the world, you don’t want the same thing.

“Remember when I hauled your ass to the emergency room after you broke your leg at the skatepark in 9th grade?”

Beomgyu lets out a grunt upon hearing your question at the same time as he drops down to the ground with a thunk on the playground seesaw. “Right. That happened.” It’s late at night, the streetlights are dimming, and it’s a week before high school graduation. Not the most appropriate time to be playing around the kid-sized rides tucked in the corner of your apartment complex, but things have been penting up, and there currently seems to be no better way to deal with your physical and emotional exhaustion than by being sprung up to the air, down, and back up again.

“You also said— whoa!” You glue your feet firmly to the chalky ground before dangling your legs up once more. “You also said you’d do anything I ask after saving your ass. I’m here to collect your debt.”

The next instance, you aren’t see’d or saw’d back up. Beomgyu stays grounded, looking at with an expression you can only describe as oozing of suspicion. It is weird, you have to admit, bringing up a spur of a moment promise he made three years ago, possibly under the influence of anesthetics. You’d be suspicious of yourself, too. “Alright,” he relents after a long moment of thought. Beomgyu leans forward, resting his arms over the seesaw handle and burying his chin into his sleeves. “Spit it out. What do you want? I’ll buy it for you.”

You press your lips together. “It’s not something you can buy.”

Now, that definitely doesn’t help your case. Your crypticness is causing his brows to furrow, and Beomgyu is deep in thought wondering what the hell kind of favor your fucked up head is thinking of (especially after the shrimp incident). You can save him from misery and just spit it out right then and there, but it’s not easy for you to pull out of your mouth either. Once this night is over, your throat will be littered with sores and cuts and it’ll all be self inflicted.

“Wait.” Beomgyu suddenly jolts up and sits straight, causing the seesaw to wobble a little. His ears are peeking out the mess of his hair. It’s already way past the school policy length— a privilege of a graduating student, he says. And despite the shadowed sky cloaking the playground lot, you can clearly see the tinge of red painting the thin skin. What is he thinking? you narrow your eyes at him. The blush has spread all over his neck. "You—you—you’re not trying to ask—”

“Beomgyu,” you cut him off, sparing him from an aneurysm. “We’re starting college next month, right?”

His expression tells you he’s completely missed the mark. “Yeah...?” he sounds out, confusion riddled in his tongue. You bite down yours— an early repentance before finally throwing it out in the air.

“Can you do me a favor?” you squeak out. “Can you pretend like you don’t know me?”

Quiet washes over. You preemptively wince, expecting the impending torrent of swear words from your friend, but he doesn’t say anything. He says nothing for a long while, filling the quiet with tension-filled agony before finally saying, “I don’t understand.”

You swallow down a lump in your throat.

“What are you saying?”

There are uneasy creaks on the hinges of the seesaw set, as if it’s unsure whether to go up or down. The scent of iron seeps into your palms with how tightly you’re holding the handle. “Please pretend like we aren’t friends when we enter university,” you inhale sharply. “Better yet, act like you don’t know me at all, okay? Treat me like I was a ghost and I’ll do the same with you.”

You don’t have the guts to look Beomgyu in the eye. You train your eyes to the graveled ground and hold in your breath, listening as the creaks of the rusty hinges slowly come to a still. He’s not saying anything. He isn’t saying anything and you’re starting to grow scared.

The seesaw finally stops rocking, and you finally hear Beomgyu’s response—

“Fine.”

—all while your ass gets dropped to the ground with an even louder thunk when Beomgyu gets off the damned thing. You let out a yelp as your body gets jerked back by the sudden recoil.

“Hey!” you yell out, stumbling to get off the seesaw in a panic because he’s starting to walk. “Choi Beomgyu— wait up!”

“What?” he snaps his head back, and you flinch. He doesn’t look great. He doesn’t look happy at all. Guilt overhauls your entire being with a single, ringing punch and your tongue is weighed down by sand and soot and it’s difficult to swallow without the threat of choking. “I thought you wanted me to pretend like I don’t know you?”

You frown. “I did, but I didn’t mean it to be—”

Words fail when he turns his back to you once again. You can’t say anything. You can’t bring it in you to justify yourself. You can’t even find the shame to call him back. So all you can do is watch as Beomgyu slowly disappears into the evening, leaving behind more things in the playground than just you.

It’s fine, you inhale sharply. You can give him some space tonight and just talk it out on the way to school tomorrow. And it’s not like you didn’t expect him to be mad at you. It just hurt a lot more than you thought it would.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” you yell at his disappearing figure.

It stings, sure. But still. It’s something you feel like you need to do, because you don’t like Choi Beomgyu, and all the things he’s cost you.

#1: YOU DON’T LIKE HIM FOR WASTING SO MUCH OF YOUR TIME. You’re pretty sure at least three years of your lifespan has wilted away into nothingness because of how long it takes for him to answer the door. It takes two rounds of incessant knocking and a yell of his name. Even then, his mom is more likely to answer than the fucker himself.

He’s been like that ever since. Though you can’t exactly pinpoint when that ever since begins— you can’t remember how you met him because his stupid face has always been present in all of your earliest memories.

(Knock, knock, knock!

“Choi Beomgyu!”

Knock, knock, knock!

“Open the door!”

Classes ended early today, and your teachers at the academy are having a seminar so you don’t have to go there today. This was a rare opportunity in your life as a middle schooler— where every day runs from waking up, to eating, to studying, to eating, to studying again, studying some more, and wanting to quit studying. Today you had free time, and you’re going to spend it wisely.

At least that was the plan. But then Beomgyu called your landline while you were watching TV, saying that he had “something super, duper, insanely cool to show you and you’ll regret it if you don’t come over.”

It’s probably something lame.

You hurried over to the unit right across yours.

But like usual, it took a good five minutes until you heard Beomgyu’s hurried footsteps padding louder and closer and closer. He didn’t give you an opportunity to be annoyed by him— he quickly tugged you into his home and shut the door lock with a kick, running into and out of the living room like it was a racing track, and before you knew it, you were in his room and he was all giddy and excited and it served as a sign that he was up to no good.

“You’re being suspicious,” you leered at him as he dug through his school bag, already taking the liberty to plop down on his bed. “What’s that?”

There was a proud grin on his face when he pulled it out and showed it off to you. You weren’t as impressed. In fact, you were terrified.

Specifically because of the 18+ label on the CD container he’s holding.

“Why do you have that?!” you screeched. “Holy crap. You idiot. Are you trying to get us into trouble?!”

“We won’t get in trouble as long as you stop freaking out like a little wuss,” he reasoned, already slotting the forbidden CD into his conveniently placed laptop right at the foot of the bed.

Your houses shared an internet line, and most websites have been blocked as per both your parents’ request so it “doesn’t get in the way of your studying,” they say. You thought it was crap. Beomgyu thought it was crap. So you’d been trying to find ways to subvert that restriction by whatever means you can get your hands on (i.e. going to PC rooms and getting dragged back home by your parents).

But that didn’t mean you were fine with watching a movie you legally weren’t allowed to watch.

This was absurd.

“Yeonjun hyung lent it to me. Hey, stop overreacting. You said you wanted to watch this and wouldn’t quit whining about it the past two weeks. I’m doing you a favor!”

“We’re not allowed to watch this! If our parents find out, they’re gonna—” You made the mistake of letting your eyes wander to the laptop screen. It’s all blood and guts and gore from the very beginning. You were taken. “Whoa. Move over.”

Beomgyu was grinning at his success. The equally bloody CD container found itself tucked underneath his bed, and before you knew it you were both hiding under the blankets, sharing a pair of earphones because there’s too much screaming and squelching from the off-brand slasher film your friend smuggled from a sketchy high schooler. Maybe that was just the right amount of screaming. You wouldn’t know. You’ve never watched anything like this before.)

To be frank, you don’t remember much about the film. You do remember nearly pissing yourself in fear and screaming along to the cries of agony whenever someone was killed on screen. Beomgyu was unfazed though— that freak. How was he not pissing himself when a severed limb flew into the frame?

But he wasn’t as calm when his brother came home early, and your constant screams of terror elicited understandable concern. (“Shut up! You’re going to get us caught,” he hissed, trying to smack his palm over your mouth but you’re already burying your face into his comforter and blindly shoving him off).

Long story short, you both got caught and got grounded for a week.

So much for having free time.

“Congrats on finishing your last exam!”

You grunt, shoving past Heeseung as you exit the classroom, a stack of scratch papers pressed to your chest. He trails behind you with an evident bounce in his step. You’d be just as excited had you not been brutally murdered by midterms week. It’s only your third month of university and you’re already ready to drop out. Why is this normalized? This is structural, systemic violence.

“Jieun and the rest are planning a night out tomorrow,” he mentions. “You coming?”

“No. I’m going to sleep for forty-eight hours and die.”

He tells you you’re no fun and you flip him off. Three months have passed and you feel like you’ve aged thirty years, but Heeseung is still fucking energetic and you’re sure it’s because the girl from computer science he’d been flirting with for the past two weeks finally agreed to go on a date with him. The stupid grin on his face as he’s typing on his phone is annoying you to no end. “What?” he asks, looking up from his phone, still all smiley and irksome.

“You’re insufferable,” you deadpan. His expression morphs into confusion, then realization, then pity, then circles back into being incredibly annoying again.

“If you beg, I can set you up with one of my friends.”

“Eat ass.”

You smack the top of his head with the stack of papers. He is unfazed. “I know a few guys! C’mon! Instead of being bitter, why don’t I help you out? I don’t do this for everyone, you know. I’m only offering because you’re my friend.”

Well, the past three months haven’t been entirely bad. Your freshman batch was fairly easy to get along with— Heeseung specifically, whom you hit off with during the orientation. You’ve also been doing pretty well with all of your classes despite the back-breaking workload. And now that midterms are over, your uni has this policy to cancel classes for a whole week after every major exam (for the students’ “mental health” they say), so now you have the chance to finally fucking rest.

“Beomgyu!”

You flinch upon hearing Heeseung yell out his name. You can’t get used to it.

The space next to you becomes empty as Heeseung excuses himself for a moment to join Beomgyu and the little group he’s appeared with. You take the opportunity to shove the scratch papers you have into your bag, taking a few glimpses here and there— regretting doing that when Beomgyu happens to meet your gaze at one point, and you quickly avert your eyes to the posters on bulletin boards stuck on the hallway wall. E-Sports Fest 2023. Sign up for your respective departments now!

“Later,” Heeseung waves them off and runs back to you. “Hey. We’re fucked. Beomgyu’s playing in like half of the games next, next week. The ICT fuckers have practically won already. This is too much of a skill gap. This isn’t fair.”

You give him a look. “Okay?”

Heeseung pouts. “At least pretend like you’re interested. Jeongin said yes, but I still have to get Chenle onboard so we can at least get second place, but he says he doesn’t wanna waste our short break so— hey, are you listening?”

No, you’re not. Because you met eyes with Choi Beomgyu once more before he left with his friends, and even if it’s been three months since you’ve last talked to him, there’s still a weird feeling in your gut every time you happen to cross paths.

It’s been easy for him to keep his promise. The both of you have different majors, and though you two share a few mutual friends, Heeseung doesn’t know shit about your history, and nobody seems to suspect anything.

Still. You can’t completely avoid him. Not when you two are literally still neighbors.

The both of you moved out since your campus is a two hour commute from your homes, but you also moved into the same apartment building in the city as per your parents’ request. (“Now, I’m more at ease knowing you’re still living next to her, Beomgyu,” your mother remarked the day his dad drove you both to your new building). Your mom didn’t know how not at ease you are with him still floating around you with a seeming permanence, especially after what happened in the playground that night.

“Anyway, I have to go,” Heeseung tells you, probably off to meet the compsci girl he refuses to tell you the name and identity of. You fear she may be one of your friends. “How about you?”

“Off to have lunch with Sungchan and Minjeong,” you hum. “Have fun. Don’t come crying to me when you eventually get your heart broken.”

“You’re just bitter. Don’t worry. I’ll get you a date to save you from your misery.”

“Go to hell.”

“See you.”

The both of you part ways, and you meet up with the aforementioned two at the campus cafeteria because fast food is outside of your budget after splurging all your allowance on caffeine and energy drinks this week. Your two friends seem to have also been hard fucked by midterms. Lunch was filled with quiet complaints and you immediately took the first bus home after eating.

“You stopped by?” you speak into your phone, wedging the device between your cheek and shoulder as you punch in the code to your unit’s door. “You should’ve told me. I could’ve come home earlier.”

“It’s alright. I just left you some side dishes for the week. They’re in the fridge. Who knows what kind of junk you’re putting into your body without me on the watch.”

“I am eating perfectly well!” you exclaim, shutting your door with a click. You love your mom and her food but she’s as protective as ever. “I just got home. I’ll send photo evidence of me enjoying your kimchi, madam.”

You hear her laugh a little at the end of the line, and you hum out a smile. “I’m hanging up. You must be tired so get some rest.”

“Yeah, alright.” Upon entering the living room, you can see the familiar, reusable blue shopping bag on the open kitchen counter, its unreasonably gigantic size taking up too much of the space. You narrow your eyes and walk towards it. When you take a peek inside, there are still full containers and tupperwares. The rolled omelets look particularly good. “I thought you put them in the fridge,” you say. Without waiting for your mother’s response, you’ve already produced a pair of chopsticks and have pried a box open, stuffing a roll inside your mouth.

“Oh, those are for Beomgyu.”

The eggs suddenly taste like sand.

“He mentioned on call last time that he was missing some of my home cooked dishes. Why haven’t you been sharing with him? Greedy child. Anyway, drop them off at his place later when he gets back. He wasn’t around when I visited earlier. Okay?”

First of all, why does your mother keep calling Choi Beomgyu behind your back? Second of all, the guilt of eating what is supposed to be Beomgyu’s food shot your appetite back down into oblivion, so you quickly close the container and stuff it back into the bag in a zip. “Okay. I’ll do that.” You throw the chopsticks into the sink. He isn’t gonna notice that one omelet is missing, right?” “Bye.”

“Come back home during your break.”

Then again. Why do you have to waste this perfectly good food on a guy like him?

The line ends. You fall to the floor with an anguished cry. “Ugh,” you groan, forehead hitting the counter body a few too many times that a bruise could form. “The bastard might snitch on me if I don’t do it. Fuck. Fine.”

You feel like a reanimated corpse when you force yourself back on your feet, a series of grunts as you begrudgingly lug the large bag of side dishes that won’t even end up in your stomach. This is fine, you exhale. You can do this. You’re gonna knock on the door, throw the bag to his face, and say goodbye without talking. This is fine. This is easy.

But with Beomgyu, it’s never easy. The simplicity of the act ends after you’ve left your unit. What came after was the short, dreadful walk across the hallway because shit— in the past three months you’ve moved here, you have never actually gone up to his door.

Knock, knock, knock.

No answer.

Knock, knock, knock.

Still no answer. This bastard never fucking grows.

“Choi Beomgyu!” Your light knocks quickly transition to a heavy banging. “Choi Beomgyu, open up—”

There’s a click and a creak. Your knuckles don’t land on the familiar hardwood— they land on his chest because the momentum made you keep knocking even after he’d opened the door. “Oh,” he flatly starts. A brow raised and arms crossed, he leans against the door frame and looks at you like you’re an unwelcome guest. “What do we have here?”

He’s insufferable. He’s totally insufferable.

“Who are you again?”

“Cut the crap, Beomgyu,” you grunt, absolutely not in the mood for this. You know that it’s a pretty shitty thing for you to ask him to pretend to be strangers. You really do, so you didn’t hold it against him for being mad at you at first. He’s been doing his end, sure, but you don’t remember him acting like a big fucking bitch to you in private as a part of the deal.

You thought his anger would subside after three days. It’s been three months and at this point you’re convinced that this relationship is now irreparable, and neither of you are making the effort to resuscitate it. “You’re the one who came to my door. Why are you swearing at me?” he huffs. You grit your teeth, shoving the bag to him and his act of arrogance falters from surprise. You don’t miss how his eyes widen and how his scrunched up brows suddenly disappear under the messy bangs he’s decided to grow out.

“Here. I’ll take back the containers next week. Make sure you’ve washed them by then. Goodbye.”

That, in fact, wasn’t a good bye because you stomp back into your unit without giving him a second look.

Dammit, dammit, dammit it all. The door is cold against your back when you retreat inside. You hate him. You really do. This would’ve been easier if your lives weren’t so irrevocably tangled— messed up in all sorts of knots and ties that even a fucking boyscout can’t tear it apart.

You left your phone on the counter when you left and you can see it buzzing and lighting up. There’s a few messages. Hi, dear. How have you been? It’s from his mother. There is no escape to this. Absolutely none.

#2: YOU DON’T LIKE HIM FOR FORCING YOU TO SWALLOW SO MUCH OF YOUR PRIDE. Somehow, he’s always there at the lowest points of your life— moments where you wouldn’t even want any of your family to see you, but he’s there. He always is, and you’d always wish to evaporate along with the rain.

Maybe he has a signal whenever you’re on the verge of doing something stupid. Or losing face. Or being absolutely dumped. Or all of the above at the same time. Maybe he’s there on purpose so he can have one more thing on his belt of things to hold against you.

(“I like you.”

The words squeezed out of your throat like a choke, more than anything. Maybe it was because of the fact that you sounded so pathetic that Jiwoong couldn’t even reject you properly. Maybe if he were to be frank, he was afraid that you’d end up crying.

“Um, there’s...there’s somewhere I have to be for a moment. You don’t mind waiting for a bit, right?”

But it wasn’t you that ended up in tears. It was the sky. You weren’t sure how long you’d been waiting, frozen still in an abandoned corner behind the school where your pink-stained note had asked him to come— him, your desk partner for the semester that you’d been unfortunately struck by— but it was long enough for the afternoon sky to be inked by gray clouds. Long enough for it to start pouring in on your behalf.

You sniffled. Ah, shit. This is stupid. You said you weren’t going to cry but fuck, your eyes suddenly started to sting, and you’re looking up at the clouds because gravity might help in preventing them from falling, but all it did was pool saltwater in your tearducts and now they’ve overflown, mixing into the raindrops cascading down your face.

“Until when are you going to keep standing there like an idiot?”

Instead of the gray, pouring sky, your vision is cloaked by a jarring electric blue. It was the same obnoxious color as the umbrella Beomgyu brings around. Then again— that was just his voice, too. Your cheeks started burning. That was enough to bring you back to your senses. “Did—did you see—”

“Let’s go home.”

It was one thing to be caught crying by your friend-slash-neighbor-slash-annoyance. It was another thing to be caught getting rejected by him. That was double the shame and embarrassment soiled. But Beomgyu hasn’t made a mention of it throughout your walk back to the building, much to your relief and suspicion. This man would make fun of you to the ends of high hell just for keeping a plushie to bed until you were thirteen— you weren’t sure when he started developing the emotional intelligence to stay in the comfort of silence throughout your walk home.

Of course, you didn’t expect him to hold his tongue for too long. It was an empty road, and the rain was still pouring. Beomgyu held up his umbrella above your head, and started with a low voice, “Want me to beat him up?”

Your steps lagged, faltering a little in mild surprise. “You?” An invisible force started tugging on the corners of your lips. “With your lanky ass and noodle arms? Keep dreaming, loser.”

“Hey—” You had to hold back a snort when you saw his face, an evident look of unbridled offense taking over, and he stopped in his tracks just to passionately defend himself. “You take that back. I’m strong. I’m pretty sure I can lift you up with just one arm. I can beat the shit out of Jiwoong if I wanted to.”

“Sure,” you snickered. “That is if you want to end up in the hospital. You’re all skin and bones, Beomgyu. You’re weak as hell. Remember the last time we arm wrestled? I’m pretty sure it ended up with me as the winner, and you as the— eep!”

You yelped, eyes widening. Suddenly, the ground wasn’t touching your feet anymore, you could feel the rain on your skin, and the bright, blue umbrella was now on the ground. You can see nothing but the fabric of Beomgyu’s dark and drenched uniform blazer and glimpses of the upside down pavement. Your face started to heat up. You could feel his firm grip around your waist and legs.

“That was in sixth grade, doofus. Keep up,” he snorted.

“What the hell? Put me down!” you let out a grunt and tried to wiggle yourself free, but he’s unyielding— continuing the walk back home while carrying you like a sack of potatoes. “If you don’t put me down, I am going to bite you.”

“Nuh-uh.” The bastard gave your body a rough shake as a warning, and you screamed. “Not until you take back what you said earlier.” You balled your hands into a fist and hit his back. “Wow, you’re so ungrateful. I’m giving you a free ride home yet you decide to assault me. Your mother will be so disappointed when she hears this.”

“Your mother will shave your head if she finds out your haircut received a warning this morning.”

“Oooo—kay. Down you go. Ride over.” The moment Beomgyu settled you back on the ground, you gave him the nastiest glare you could muster. He gave you a grin. “Your hair is a mess.”

“Whose fault is it?” you sneer.

“Jiwoong’s,” he answered, matting down the top of your head with his hands. You winced when his fingers got caught between the wet, tangled strands. Beomgyu’s lips pursed as he tried to unravel them, brows furrowed in concentration. “I’m uninviting him to our game night tomorrow. He can eat shit.”

“He’s gonna talk shit if you do that,” you replied.

“Who cares.” He was finished tinkering with your hair. It was still pouring. “Done. Let’s go home.” You didn’t know if he made it better or worse.

“Okay,” you replied, feeling the top of your head. “But your umbrella ran away. Idiot.”

“Does it matter?” his lips quirked. “We’re already drenched, anyway.”)

The ice in your service water has already melted. You are going to kill a man named Lee Heeseung.

Why isn’t this motherfucker answering your calls? You let out a mental swear. It’s the second Saturday of your one-week break after midterms, and Heeseung organized a blind date for you and his friend today. The problem is, that said friend is nowhere to be seen. The customers next to your table have already changed thrice already. You’re not pathetic. You’re not gonna wait for him.

Right when you muster the willpower to get up, Heeseung finally answers your call. He’s quick to overtake your possible threats by immediately rambling, “Okay. Before you get mad—”

“You’re dead to me.”

“I’m sorry!” he screams-slash-pleads. “Eunseok canceled at the last minute because of this thing with his— nevermind. That’s not important. I’m gonna kick his ass the next time I see him, but please tell me you haven’t left the cafe yet.”

You bite your bottom lip. You want to lie. You want to tell him that you’ve already left thirty minutes ago and are now in your apartment with cozy pajamas and a cucumber face mask. “I’m around the area,” you reply. “Why?”

“Oh, good. Great.”

This is brow raising. The bell above the door entrance rings, catching your attention and you look up. “Why?”

“You’re still going on a date,” he tells you. “I promise you, your time definitely won’t be wasted—”

Heeseung’s voice disappears into the background. Entering the cafe is the person you want to see the least. He’s wearing the hooded sweater you got him for Christmas last year, and around his neck are the headphones you got him for his birthday.

“—so I called another friend. Don’t think of him as just a second option, okay?! I think he’s more your type anyway, and—”

He’s looking around. He still hasn’t noticed you. He’s standing in the middle of the shop and he pulls out his phone.

“—and he’s headed there right— oh! He says he’s there already!”

Beomgyu has spotted you and you want to kill yourself. Your head drops down and you bite down a scream of agony and despair. “You’ve heard of Choi Beomgyu, right? From BSEMC? I’ve mentioned him a few times. Haha. Anyway. I hope you enjoy your da—”

“Heeseung told me his friend got stood up and needed a backup.” He’s now in front of you. He’s looking down at you from behind the opposite chair. “I didn’t expect that that friend would be you.”

You’re going to kill yourself after you kill Heeseung. Better yet, why not murder Beomgyu as well so you can all rot in bloody fucking hell?

“Hello?”

“Shut up,” you grunt, trying your best to subtly hide the burning embarrassment on your face without making it obvious that your pride is now in perfectly tattered shambles. Of all people, why him? Why? For the love of god, why? “Just leave. I doubt you even want to be here. Let’s just spare each other the headache, alright?”

Beomgyu stifles a scoff. You watch as his knuckles flex while clutching the back of the chair. “I canceled a game for this.” He pulls it back and plops down on the seat like a petulant child. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your face contorts into an unabashed grimace. You take your bag and stand up. “Okay. Then, I’m leaving.”

“You could’ve left an hour ago.”

Pause. He looks up at you, arms crossed and confident. Your upper lip twitches. You sit back down. Heeseung has already died twice in your head.

“I guess even someone as heartless as you is desperate for a little romance,” he hums, leaning back against his seat and completely at ease— a stark contrast to your end of the table: hot and bothered for all the wrong, not very sexy reasons. You’re trying to feign calmness, but the sweat dripping down your forehead from the heat of shame is ratting you out. This is the worst. This is the absolute worst.

You’re only able to breathe again when Beomgyu gets up to order something. Maybe you should order something too because your throat is as dry as bone. He returns not long after with a tray in hand. He settles it down on the table, revealing two glasses of iced tea and a plate of matcha tiramisu.

“Quit sulking,” he says. “You’re ugly when you sulk.”

With one hand, you flip him off. With the other, you use to grab one of the forks and dig into the dessert. Beomgyu mirrors your actions (minus the middle finger part), and grimaces after a spoonful lands in his mouth. “How are you eating this?” You hover a hand over your lips, pressing down a laugh. “It tastes like grass. Are you a cow? Is that it?”

Offended, you pull the plate closer to you. “Then why did you buy matcha if you’re just gonna insult it?”

“Because you like it.” Beomgyu reaches an arm over to get another bite, gags, then continues to try again. “Your tastebuds are really fucking weird. You should get them checked. I think they’re broken.”

You settle with an eye roll before taking a sip from the iced tea. This is odd. This feels like you’ve been transported back into time prior to your three-month long cold war. Choi Beomgyu is sitting in front of you and tapping on his phone laid on the table, and you’re sitting in front of him enjoying a nice piece of dessert he bought. There’s an odd cacophony inside your stomach— like butterflies and glass shards fluttering and cracking in a single enclosed space.

“I heard you’ll be playing for the E-Sports Fest next week,” you mention, trying to dig a deeper hole into this crack that managed to resurface. Beomgyu gives you a weird, insinuating look in response. “Shut your face. I just keep hearing your name being mentioned. Heeseung is obsessed with you, I think.”

“Why are you asking?” he snorts, passing you a napkin. “You want to cheer for me?”

“Ew. Why would I?” you reply, blindly wiping at the corner of your mouth. “We’re not even from the same department.”

Beomgyu’s eyebrows knit together, trained on the lower half of your face. “Tch. Then why even bring it up, you—”

Time stops. For some reason, Beomgyu has reached his arm over the table and is now touching your face, thumb pressed against the side of your lip with a napkin, the opposite side of where you were trying to wipe off.

Your eyes meet. It gets warm.

“Sorry,” he coughs out, retracting his hand to wipe the green-dusted cream off his fingers. Now, you know all of Choi Beomgyu’s tells like the back of your hand— and he’s not hiding those blushing ears from anyone. You’ve caught him. You knew his son of a bitch act was gonna crumble at some point (no, you didn’t. You thought he was gonna stay mad at you forever so now your heart is racing in glee). “If you’re done, let’s go. Come pick up your mom’s containers from my place.”

“Oh,” you breathe out. “Right.”

“I washed them.”

“Congratulations.”

He sneers. “Get up. I’m leaving you.”

The one thing you regret about making the deal with Beomgyu is missing out the opportunity of taking advantage of him and the car his parents’ gifted for graduation. Seriously. Had you known he’d be driving a private vehicle to and from campus everyday, you might have never asked for that favor in the first place. Those three months worth of bus fares could’ve been spent on your daily doses of coffee instead.

“Seatbelt,” he reminds while pulling out of the driveway. You’re mildly impressed and your face isn’t hiding it, and neither is the bashful tint on the tips of his ears. “Quit staring, you weirdo.”

“You can be kind of cool after all.” You give him a thumbs up. He grunts, and now you’re on the road back to your apartment.

It’s a quiet drive— the hum of the engine filling the early evening silence. You steal a few glances here and there, sneaking a few peeks at a new side of your friend(?) that you’ve never witnessed before. Since when was he so good at driving? He’s got only one hand on the steering wheel. It’s weird, you think. You’ve known everything about him for as long as you can remember, and finding out something new for the first time in a while— and not being the first one to find out about it— is making odd twists and turns inside your gut.

When you reach the apartment building, it’s still quiet. And when you ride up the elevator all the way to your floor, walking up the space between both of your doors, silence still permeates the walls and it makes you wonder— has it ever been this quiet between you two?

“I’ll go get the stuff. Stay here.”

You’re left behind with your messy thoughts in the hallway and before things can get even more tangled up, Beomgyu shows up again with the bright blue shopping bag you dropped off last week. “Tell the madam that her seasoned spinach is perfect as usual.” He returns the bag, a faint smile on his face.

“Go tell her that yourself,” you huff, retrieving it from him. “I’m pretty sure she calls you more often than she calls me.” The tupperwares and containers look clean. You should give him a treat for doing a good job.

“Your mother is constantly worried about her young, impressionable daughter taking her first steps of independence, but doesn’t want to be called overbearing by her only child, so she asks me about you instead.” Beomgyu’s tone is nagging. You shoot him a glare and he simply steps closer to jab a finger into your forehead. “You have no idea how hard it is to make up bullshit about what you’ve been up to. You owe me a lot, dipshit.”

You wince, smacking his hand away. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The corners of his mouth twitch. His eyes leer away for a moment, and he lets out a huff of air through his nose. “Why? Do I know you?”

Oh god. Here he goes again.

“Why do you keep—” You stop, squeezing your eyes and taking in a deep inhale because for a moment there, you were just about to yell again. “Okay,” you restart. You should do something about your temper. “Okay. I apologize for troubling you, and I’ll tell her to quit bothering you, so—”

It was going well. It was going so well. Only if you had missed the very subtle, very irritating roll of his eyes upon your remark.

“—so you should quit being an absolute dickhead too, asshole!”

Then maybe you could’ve lived in happy ignorance, and all your progress today wouldn’t have to restart.

“Oh, so I’m the asshole?” he scoffs, incredulous. “You’re the one who told me to distance myself. You’re the one who asked. I’m just doing what you told me to do. Why am I in the wrong?” Your throat tightens, a familiar choke the moment you try to swallow.

“I never asked you to stop being friends with me, Beomgyu! I just—”

Asked you to keep our friendship hidden because I’m selfish. Because I’m insecure. Because I hate you just as much as you mean the world to me.

But you can’t tell him any of these things, can’t you?

His disappointment is clear from the look on his face. Beomgyu lets his fingers rake through his hair with a sigh. “Just go home. Thanks for the food.”

There’s something twisting inside your stomach, churning at an uncomfortable pace. It’s gnawing and grating. You’re only able to pinpoint it when Beomgyu turns back to his apartment, prompted by the resounding click of his door lock.

Ah, you realize amid the silence of the now empty hallway. It’s guilt.

#3: YOU DON’T LIKE HOW MUCH OF YOUR IDENTITY HE’S STRIPPED AWAY. You know it’s not on purpose. You know he doesn’t know. But it’s something that’s plagued you until your last few weeks of high school— the time for last chances, and final opportunities. It’s for this reason that you can’t stand him the most.

(“Hey!”

It was an unfamiliar voice that called out your name from behind you in the hallway, so you ignored it assuming that maybe they were calling someone else. It gets repeated, and you stop in front of your locker to retrieve your shoes, paying no mind to it. You’re going home alone today because Beomgyu’s out with his guy friends. “We’re having dinner together at my house later! Don’t forget!” was the last thing he yelled at you before running off. An unconscious smile crawls onto your face at the thought of it.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and heard the same voice that’d been repeating your name. You spin around, and are a little surprised to see the group standing behind you. “Hi!”

It was Haena, one of your classmates, and she was joined with two more of the girls from your class, and one that you didn’t quite recognize.

“Oh, sorry,” you bowed a little. “I didn’t know I was the one you were calling. I wasn’t trying to ignore you, sorry.” Your surprise stemmed from the fact that you weren’t really close with Haena or her friends. Not that you were on bad terms. You greeted each other from time to time, but your friend circle really just consisted of Choi Beomgyu, your deskmate Chaeryeong, and Ryunjin from the broadcasting club.

“It’s alright,” she smiled. “Do you…maybe have any plans today?”

You pulled out your shoes from the locker and closed it tightly. “No, not really.”

“Great! There’s a new cafe that opened near the school. Wanna join us?”

Well. This was unexpected. You didn’t have any other plans besides the joint family dinner you had with the Choi’s, so going on a cafe detour wouldn’t hurt. Beomgyu was also out with his other friends right now. Who says you couldn’t do the same? “Sure,” you replied. “I’ll join.”

It was a cute, cat-themed cafe with the only disappointment being that there were no actual cats— just the cat-shaped whipped cream on your strawberry drink, and the cat-shaped tiramisu on your plate. Cats weren’t usually green or pink, but you digress.

The girls were friendly. Conversation ranged from the universities you’ll all be attending, the classes you’re all about to finish, sprinkled with topics on shopping and clothes and the names of the rest of your classmates here and there. You’d started to zone out after a good while, stirring the contents of your half-empty drink as you stared at the glass windows, tinted orange by the sunset sky.

Haena cleared her throat. “So,” she started. You turned your attention back to your companions, and your eyes widened a little when you were met with all their eyes on you. Haena pronounced your name. “I’ve always been curious about something.”

You blinked. “About what?”

She leaned closer, a smile playing on her lips. “Are you and Beomgyu dating?”

You nearly choked on the sweet, strawberry drink. “What? No!”

“Really?” Seohyun nudged herself closer next to you on the seat.

“Everyone thinks you’re dating him,” said Bora. “You’re always together.”

“Ah, that’s ridiculous! I’m really not dating him!” Your face has started to warm up. Gosh, what was this? What kind of situation was this? A few of them weren’t convinced, you could tell. You pressed your lips together before breathing out, “We’ve known each other since we were like toddlers. There’s no way in hell I’d be dating him. I don’t know where you're getting all these assumptions from.”

There was a glint in Haena’s eyes that you didn’t fail to notice.

“So, you don’t have any feelings for him?” This was getting weird.

“No. No, I don’t.” And even if you did, what the hell would they be interrogating you about it?

Haena visibly brightened. “Really? Then can you set me up with him?”

You were dumbfounded.

“I’m— I’m sorry?”

Things started to click. Senior high school was almost over, and your classmates whom you’ve barely even shared a conversation with for the past three years, were taking their last chance to start something with their crushes, or some shit, under the guise of half-hearted friendliness. You’ve understood now— and you’re nothing less than offended.

“Actually, I’ve liked Beomgyu for a while now,” Haena bashfully admitted. Seohyun inserted that her friend has had a crush on him since the beginning of the year. “I thought there was something going on between the two of you so I never acted on it. But I’m so happy to hear that you two are just friends!”

You shouldn’t be annoyed. But you were. You were very annoyed.

“You’ll help me right?”

Needless to say, you went home that day with your cat tiramisu in a paper box as takeout. The next morning, the three girls greeted your classroom entrance with unabashed glares. You paid no mind and headed over to your seat at the back, where an out of place box of chocolate milk was gingerly resting on the table.

You were mildly suspicious that Choi Beomgyu was the one who put that there, so you held it in your hands with caution, examining the box closer when you took a seat.

The alleged perpetrator suddenly showed up from behind you. Your head felt heavier. Beomgyu was resting his arms on the top of your head, leaning down all of his weight onto you. “Oh wow,” he started. “Looks like someone has a secret admirer.”

You elbowed him and he let out a sharp yelp. You could see Haena giving you dirty looks from afar. “Go back to your seat,” you scolded him. “Class is starting soon.” Beomgyu listens to you well, but not after messing up your hair even further and greeting Seungmin who had just walked in.

“Are we still going after class?”

Choi Beomgyu was always surrounded by people. This was something you noticed a few months into your second year of middle school. He was like a lamp, flocked by so many buzzing insects in the night— just like right now, his face barely visible from inside the crowd at the middle of the classroom where his seat was. Even your seating assignments placed him at the center. That’s just where he’s meant to be.

“Hey, did you and Haena get into a fight?”

You looked up to see Chaeryeong barely arriving in time before the bell, pulling her seat back and plopping down right next to you.

“Don’t mind it.” You sunk your face into your arms on the desk, elbow grazing the still unopened chocolate milk on the line dividing yours and your friend’s desk. “Hey,” you let your face peek out a little from your makeshift cocoon. “From an outsider’s perspective...do Beomgyu and I give the impression that we’re, um, dating?”

She snorted. “Haven’t your parents arranged your marriage, already?”

“This is a serious question!”

Honestly, this has never crossed your mind. Not until Haena mentioned it yesterday. It took a while for things to click inside your brain, but if this misunderstanding was really not singular, then that would really explain why you have never received any confession, any valentine’s day chocolate, or love letter, or anything for the past three years of highschool. It was all Beomgyu’s fault. He’s been unknowingly sabotaging your love life and if you end up sad and dying alone, it’s all on him.

Well, I guess it’s not completely ruined. Your cheeks pressed against your arms, looking at the milk carton on your desk.

When you got up to your desk the next morning, there was another milk carton on your table.

“Hey.”

You looked up to see Seungmin hovering in front of your table. “What?”

“Not even a good morning? Beomgyu was right. You do have an attitude.” You rolled your eyes and stuffed the drink into your bag, and Seungmin decided to keep talking. “Anyway, where is he? You two usually arrive at the same time.”

“He slept through his alarm,” you replied. Then you furrowed your brows. “Why are you asking me? Couldn’t you just text him?”

“Well, it would be quicker to just ask you. Anyway, thanks.”

With that, he left. The bell rang, and your teacher arrived. You decide to save the drink until lunch time and when you got back to the classroom from the cafeteria, there was another snack on your table. For the next following days, you would find snacks suddenly spawning on your table. It was starting to get curious.

“Whoa. Holy crap. Someone might actually have a crush on you.”

It was now Friday, the end of the week, and you have accumulated a total of four milk boxes, three melon breads, and one pack of cookies all throughout. You and Beomgyu were staring down at the latest addition: a grape juice box and a packet of chocopie. He started muttering, “Does your admirer know that you snore when you—”

You gave him a kick. Beomgyu matched it with a harsh pull on your bag. He quickly ran away before you could retaliate, the rest of his body having already left, and his head peeking from the door to give you one last message.

“I’m going first! We have a raid in a while. What time is dinner later?”

“I’ll message you.”

“Alright,” he hummed. “See you. Text me if something comes up.”

This must be why people think you were dating. You were tired of it. When you were younger, people paid no mind to how much time and space you two were spending together— now that you’ve gotten a little older, maybe some things couldn’t be perceived as platonic forever.

But you don’t have any feelings for him, and neither does he for you. The only feeling you have for him is a penetrating sense of irritation. You mulled it over as you left the school building, clutching your bag straps as you walked. However, you paused upon seeing a familiar face standing at the edge of the entrance stairs. He looked like he was waiting for someone.

“Oh! Um,” he suddenly exclaimed upon noticing your approaching presence. A cough stifled out from his throat, followed by a nervous smile. “Hi.”

It was Lim Jimin, one of your classmates and one of the boys that were usually rallying up every afternoon after class to the internet cafe with Beomgyu and Seungmin like a bunch of nerds. “Hey?” you greet back. “Didn’t you guys have a raid or something today? I think they already left.”

“No, I uh, I stayed behind,” he mumbled. “Can we talk for a bit?”

The chocolate milk carton he was holding had not gone unnoticed by you. Your narrowed eyes flitted over to his fidgeting fingers. His nerves were spilling right out. “Have you been the one leaving food on my desk?”

He flinched. “Yeah— well—” A smile curled on your lips. “Damn, this is a little embarrassing. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you hummed. “I enjoyed them. Thanks.”

There was a tinge of pink on his cheeks, a sheepish hand on the back of his neck and it looked as if he was running through a million thoughts in his head at once. “I’ve...I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he finally started after a moment’s silence. “Can you do me a favor?”

Your heart jumped. Holy shit. This is happening, this is actually happening.

“Y—yeah?”

Your breath hitched inside your throat. Oh my god. You might actually end your curse of lovelessness today. Oh my fucking god.

“Can you convince Beomgyu to help me get to Platinum in League?”

What?

“I—I know this sounds dumb, and it’s kinda pathetic that I had to bribe you with snacks just to get to this— but he’s been refusing to help any of us because he leaves after like three games!” Jimin exclaimed, and, upon noticing the flat look on your face, quickly gathered himself back together. “Ahem. I thought…maybe you could convince him since you’re like, his girlfriend and all.”

Your brain was a loading screen. You blinked but saw nothing but red. Beomgyu goes home after three games because you guys eat dinner at six in the evening. Jimin was giving you food as a bribe. You were not getting a confession.

All at once, the blood rose to your face,

“W-wait— is that a yes? Are you gonna ask him—”

Your shame couldn’t keep you standing there like an idiot for any longer. Every hurried step you took was a testament of your misery, and you left behind in your wake a fucking wave of turmoil and embarrassment. Fuck, your cheeks were burning. Fuck, why did Beomgyu have to entertain that idea and muddled your brain.

“Oh, you’re home?” your mother greeted the moment you kicked open your apartment door and started stomping to your room. “Where’s Beomgyu? Why didn’t you come home toge—”

“Ugh!” you groaned. “Enough about him, please!”

Did you only exist as an extension of him? As a part of him? As Choi Beomgyu’s friend, girlfriend, whatever, as the girl who’s always been around him for the past seventeen years to the point where that was all you’re known for?

You were fucking sick of it.

Your mom was scolding you for yelling at her, but you were far into your emotions to stay behind and say sorry. Your bag was left on the living room floor, and you were once again stomping out of your apartment unit, only to bump your face into Choi Beomgyu. “Whoa,” he remarked, quickly grabbing onto your shoulders. “Where are you going?”

“Out.” You shoved yourself off him.

“Someone’s cranky,” he mused, trailing behind you as you continued bulldozing down the hallway, down the stairs, out the building and on the dim and chalky path towards the playground. Beomgyu kept chattering. “What’s up? Why are you mad? Did you leave something behind in the classroom? Okay, you aren’t talking to me. That’s fine. I was gonna ask you what flowers you wanted for our graduation ceremony, but I guess I’ll just pick and choose whatever I—”

Smack!

You’ve spun around. You’ve got his face smacked in between your palms, promptly shutting him up. His eyes flew open, mouth firmly and tightly closed. “Can you stop talking for a second?” you guttered out.

Beomgyu stared at you, eyes still wide, then nodded once, still sandwiched between your palms. You bit down your bottom lip. Your ribcage was starting to squeeze in on itself. “Sorry,” you mumbled, arms falling back to your sides and you resumed your march towards the playground.

He stayed silent for the rest of the time, following you on the see-saws and the both of you exchanged ups and downs for a few moments— quiet moments— until you were the one to break it.

“Hey, fuckface,” you called out,

“What do you want, dipshit?” he replied.

“Remember when I hauled your ass to the emergency room after you broke your leg at the skatepark in 9th grade?”)

YOUR MORNING STARTED OFF NICELY. It’s the first day back to uni after your one week break. You woke up before your alarm and had the time to make a really stir-fried rice meal for breakfast (your first breakfast in a week, mind you). Your clothes are fresh from the dryer, mascara unclumpy, and you arrive at the bus stop at the same time as your bus to campus arrives, right on the dot.

Today is going great. That is until Heeseung shows up at the library after sending you a text that he’s on the way, and ruins everything with one, single statement.

“Did you sleep with Beomgyu the other night?”

The orange juice you’re drinking nearly dribbles out of your mouth.

“What the fuck?”

Your voice is louder than you thought. Heeseung shushes you and sits and pulls out the seat next to yours, ready to explain. “The guys from the coding club blew up the GC last night. A few of them saw you come out of his car and enter his apartment building together last Saturday. I think there were pictures.” Your mouth is agape. You’re speechless. “I didn’t tell them anything! Some of the guys were just around the neighborhood and happened to see you.”

Oh, no. Oh, no no no no no no.

“But, I guess...the blind date went well?”

God, fuck no.

Your worst nightmare has finally come crashing into reality.

“We live in the same building, get your mind out of the gutter!” you hiss, pulling him by the collar. Heeseung is very visibly terrified. You never wanted him to find out about your living situation in the first place because you know that he’d force you to hang out with them whenever he’s crashing at Beomgyu’s. You’re starting to regret hitting up a conversation with him during the orientation. These men are the banes of your existence. “Who is it? Who the fuck is spreading that stupid fucking rumor?”

“Please let go of me,” he squeaks out. You grunt, releasing the fabric of his shirt. He takes in a breath and fixes his clothes. “I’m not a snitch. Sorry.”

Heeseung is avoiding your eyes. He’s twiddling with the top button of his button up, nervously pressing together his lips. You run through the members of their “coding club” (it’s just a cover so they can play games in a cushy campus office). It doesn’t take long for you to come up with a name.

“Yang Jeongin.” Your friend’s panic tells you that you’re on the nail.

“He only sent the photo!” he quickly exclaims. “He never said that you two were hooking up or anything! Please, spare him, please—”

So much for a perfect morning. It’s not even nine and you’re already fucking drained.

You let out a groan, massaging your temples and balancing yourself with your elbows on the study table. Heeseung is spewing out a million apologies and you’re not taking shit. “You’re not gonna go to our clubroom and destroy our computers, right?”

“Thanks for the idea.”

“You’re a demon,” he grumbles. “What’s the big deal, anyway? You yourself said you and Beomgyu didn’t fuck. But you two went home together and you haven’t complained about him yet. That means your date went really, really—”

“Can you please just quit it?!”

That’s it. You’ve had enough. You shoot up from your seat, quickly gathering your things before you actually start throwing punches. “I’m sick and tired of hearing his name!” Heeseung gulps. He quickly scoots away to evade your haphazardly swinging bag. “Why the fuck do you all keep mentioning that piece of shit? It’s like everyone’s obsessed with him, it’s like everyone wants a chance to ride on his di—”

The words get cut off. Because when you turned around to make your leave, Choi Beomgyu was right there, behind you, and you bump into him and his blank face of terror.

“Oh.”

Yang Jeongin is also there, looking mildly scared of you.

But you’re more horrified than anyone in this hall.

Hiccup!

Your face flushes, searing hot and visibly enflamed.

“I, uh—” hiccup! “I’m about to leave anyway so you guys can—” hiccup! “—shit, fuck, fucking hell—”

You quickly swerve away, head down, but an arm swooshes over to barricade your exit path. There’s a water bottle in front of your heated face. Your line of sight follows towards the owner of the arm. Beomgyu is looking at you straight in the eye.

“Drink some water first.”

Hiccup!

Fuck, this is so embarrassing.

“Whoa. She’s so fast.”

The three boys watch your speedily retreating figure, pausing once or twice because of a hiccup, but your pace is still abnormally fast as you escape from the premises. There is no trace of you, save for the orange juice container you’d been drinking since earlier.

“There’s this tension between the two of you, you know.” Beomgyu turns his head to Heeseung who made the observation, a single eyebrow raised. “Do you two really live in the same building, or is she just making up an excuse? Seriously. Tell me how it went with you two. I was the one who set you up. I think I have the right to know.”

Beomgyu holds back a snort. He leans closer to Heeseung, a subtle smile playing on his lips. “You wanna know?”

Heeseung’s eyes sparkle. “Dude, I’m dying of curiosi—”

Smack!

“That’s none of your business.”

Beomgyu swipes the juice box from the table and promptly leaves the library despite the protests of his two friends. Out in the hallway, he doubts he could catch up to you after running away like a white collar convict, but who knows? He might get lucky— just like last Saturday.

“Hey, dude, wait up!”

An arm is hooked around his neck, and he gets pulled down with a grunt. He might be unable to catch up to you, but his friends definitely can with him. Now all his chances are gone, slipping out of his fingers like the juice container that he drops when caught between Heeseung and Jeongin shoving each other around, and it’s now completely lost upon the arrival of the people from his major.

“Hey, classes are canceled.”

“What are we having for lunch?”

“Are we having a practice run later for the festival?”

“Wait, I have to update my story— hey, look at the camera!”

They talk, but it’s all white noise. He gets carried off by static for the rest of the day. He hopes to bump into you when he gets home, but Beomgyu doesn’t even know what time you usually get home.

All the years you’ve spent mastering the perfect bitch face have finally come to fruition when you visited the programming club during lunch to make sure none of the bullshit they’re speculated escapes their clubroom doors. They all apologized— apparently Beomgyu also told them to quit their gossiping.

However not even fear can stop an inherently stupid man. Because the next day, Minjeong suddenly tells you, “hey, I didn’t know you and Choi Beomgyu were a thing!”

Now, which rat managed to slip through the door crack?

“No, we’re not,” you scrunch your nose. “Where did you get that from?”

From a friend of a friend of a friend, she says. Sungchan asked you the same thing earlier. So did some guy from one class whom you don’t even know the name of. Your head is hurting. Crap that blind date was a stupid fucking idea. Seriously, why does no one know how to mind their own business? What is it about Choi Beomgyu that people just can’t keep his name out of their mouths? He’s not even a celebrity. He’s just a freshman with a pretty face and the social skills of an annoyingly loud butterfly.

“I’m going home,” you tell her.

“Why? I thought we were having barbecue with the rest of the guys!”

Not when you’re sure you’re gonna be barraged by another slew of questions about your dumb childhood friend. You bid Minjeong goodbye and exit the campus, hopping on the bus back to your apartment with a dead set agenda in mind. You’re going to fix this. You’r gonna bring things back to normal once and for all. So when you arrive at your floor, you don’t make a left like you usually do— you turn to your right and make three hard knocks on the sturdy door.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Choi Beomgyu.”

Knock, knock, knock.

“Beomgyu, are you ho—”

It gets opened sooner than you’re used to.

“Listen. We need to talk,” you quickly start, ignoring the surprise on his face upon seeing you, ignoring the way he almost shuts the door again right into your face. You hold back a scoff, but a sneer manages to sneak out. “Things have gotten messy since last Saturday. You should’ve kept your clubmates in check. What’s the point of acting like we’re strangers when people I don’t know keep asking me if I’m your fucking girlfriend, and Lee Heeseung keeps badgering me about what’s going on between us, and— oh my fucking god. Heeseung is right there.”

Beomgyu’s body is shielding you from the view of his living room. It’s not doing a good job because Heeseung waves at you from inside. Jeongin is there too. You can’t do this anymore. You’re cursed. You’re cursed with a plague called Choi Beomgyu and his ten million friends.

Your shaking eyes flit over back to Beomgyu. He looks panicked. Your heart is threatening to jump out of your throat and shrivel up like a pathetic dried grape.

“Fuck.”

At this point, running away feels like muscle memory to you now.

“Wait, I— hold on. I’ll be back,” you hear him say right before the door clicks and there’s another pair of pattering footsteps down the hallway right behind yours. The rhythm is familiar— a lag by one step, catching up, then slowing down as if he doesn’t want to overtake you all while you bulldoze through the hallway until you reach the flight of stairs, down three floors, and you’re met with the cold wind of the outside.

It’s only now that you realize your lungs are shaking.

“Hey—”

You smack away his attempt to settle a hand on your shoulder, but you’re far too embarrassed to look up and look him in the eye. Your face is burning. It’s been burnt so many times within the span of two weeks and it’s a miracle it hasn’t been charred. “Go away. Go back upstairs,” you sniffle. All you can see is the cement ground and the worn out slippers on his feet.

He stifles out something sort of a sigh. “No.” There’s a tug on the hem of your shirt. You wobble forward. Beomgyu holds onto your arms. You finally snap your head up and see his face. “You said we needed to talk. Let’s talk.”

It’s a little pathetic how you’re so near to breaking into tears. “I changed my mind. I don’t want to.”

“Is that really what you should be saying after completely screwing yourself over?”

“Shut up.” All the strength you had in your legs has been stripped away. Beomgyu is tugging your limp body to your complex’s gazebo with ease. “How could I have known your friends would be there?” you drawl out, allowing yourself to be dragged under its overhead roof.

He settles you down onto the stairs. “Isn’t Heeseung your friend too?”

“Not anymore.” You plop down on the wood, shoulders slacked, legs outstretched. Beomgyu is standing before you with his arms crossed. “From now on, he is nothing to me.”

There’s a frown on his face. “You should’ve called before deciding to blow up like that. I did my best. You’re the one that ruined your whole stranger agenda.”

“Fuck off, I’m still trying to cope.”

You kick out your foot like a child throwing a tantrum, and Beomgyu definitely doesn’t look impressed. He walks up, signaling you to scoot over, and squeezes right next to you on the narrow stair step of the gazebo.

Shoulders pressed together, he leans slightly forward, elbows on his lap, and all you can see is the side of his face as you incline backwards so you don’t suffocate from the sudden tightness of air. “Am I like, too lame for you, or something,” he suddenly says. You blink once, failing to comprehend his words the first time. When he cocks his head back, you see the look in his eyes— earnest and raw.

You can’t help but crack out a snort.

“I’m— I’m sorry,” you sputter out. Your plaster your hands over your face, trying to suppress your misplaced chimes. “I just didn’t think you could make that kind of face. Wow, you can be serious too, huh?”

“You’re laughing,” he deadpans. “I’m trying to be serious here and you’re laughing.”

“I said I was sorry! Okay, let’s try again, let’s try again.” You clear your throat, sitting up straight and patting your palms on your lap, but something keeps tugging on the corners of your mouth and it’s hard to sit still. “No, you are not ‘too lame’ for me, Beomgyu. Where did that even come from?”

His expression bitters, unconvinced. “Then are you ashamed of me?”

“No.”

“Did I do anything abhorrently wrong?”

“What? No—”

“Am I not cool enough to be considered your friend?”

“Beomgyu, what are you talking about?” It was funny the first time, but now you’re just concerned. “Would I have stuck around your ass for almost twenty years if I thought any of that? Things haven’t been the best between us lately, but I still think we’re friends, Beomgyu, I—”

There’s a crack in your voice. Your face flushes. He’s looking at you so intently that you instinctively drop your head down before prying out the words that’s been lingering in your throat for months overdue.

“I…I hope we still are,” you mutter. “I really do.”

“Then why did you want to act like we’re not?”

There it is.

“I didn’t want to keep it up for a long time!” you reason. “I just— I just wanted to keep my distance until I’ve adjusted to uni and until I’ve made a few friends of my own because for most of my life, I’ve only been known as the girl who’s always around you and nothing else.”

It takes a gnaw at your pride to be finally saying this out loud. It’s a bitter taste on your tongue— ugly and unpalatable and you’re glad that you won’t ever have to swallow it ever again.

When you look up, you see Beomgyu make another new face you never expected from him.

“I doubt you noticed how people would only approach me because of you, but I really don’t blame you for anything. It was an unreasonable request and you had every right to be mad. I might have taken it back had we stayed around on the playground for a little longer.” You take a pause. “But then you started acting like a dick to me so I decided to be a dick to you too.”

You expect him to bite back but he doesn’t and it worries you. Shit, maybe you’ve unhauled too much. Maybe this wasn’t the right time be all vulnerable and crap but Beomgyu isn’t telling you you’re a big fucking idiot, so maybe it’s fine.

Instead, he stays quiet for a little longer, your words simmering in the air.

“I wasn’t just angry. I was hurt,” he finally says. “Like you said, you’ve been with me for all my life and you suddenly tell me to reverse all of that. How the fuck did you expect me to act like you’re nobody when we both know that at this point I can’t live without you.”

Oh.

“Shit.”

Beomgyu’s eyes widen.

“I didn’t mean— I didn’t want to say—” He’s covering the bottom half of his face with his fist. He’s turning his head away as much as he can but you can still see enough to notice. “Fuck. I didn’t mean to say that. Forget about it.”

You lean closer. “Beomgyu, are you crying?”

“No. Fuck off.”

His right shoulder is serving as his shield as you try to dig your nose further, completely turning away from you, but you don’t miss it. You can’t miss it. “Oh my god, you’re crying.” Beomgyu leers back at you ever the slightest. There’s red tinting his eyes. You expect him to scurry off back into the building after that— but, no. Instead, pulls you by the forearm, and lets his head fall onto your shoulder, his forehead pressed firmly down.

“Eat shit and die,” he mutters in between sniffles. After your initial surprise, you lift up the arm he isn’t grabbing onto to give him a few pats on the back, circles over his shoulder blades, and you stay like that for a while, for maybe too long because the sky is now darker than when you first went outside.

“Beomgyu,” you start.

“What do you want?” he muffles, as if he isn’t still draped over you like an oversized rag.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was selfish and inconsiderate.”

You hear him sniffle again. Heeseung wouldn’t believe you if you tell him Choi Beomgyu is actually a big baby. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize the way other people were treating you,” he says. “I can’t help being such a cool guy that you get overshadowed, you know. So I’m not sorry for that— ow! Ow, what the heck!”

You pry him off by the hair. You’re sure a few strands got plucked off, but a realization you didn’t expect to glean from this was the fact that his stupid shaggy hair is actually really soft. “I think this is enough. We should head back.”

In spite of his complaining, Beomgyu trails behind you when you stand up and dust yourself before making your way back inside. It’s still quiet, save for the hisses and grunts and swears whenever Beomgyu would step on your shoes, whenever he’d bump into you and feign innocence, whenever he’d get on your nerves immediately after just reconciling with you.

It’s annoying. It’s annoying and it’s better than everything that’s been these past three months.

“Are you twelve?” you shoot him a glare, ready to punch in your door code before you get the urge to punch him instead.

“Come inside,” he tells you, nosing at his side of the apartment. “Let’s watch a movie.”

You raise a brow and cross your arms. “All of a sudden?”

“Yeah.” He mimics your pose. “Got a problem with that?”

You roll your eyes, but somehow you’re now a few steps away from your front door, and are now a few steps closer to his. “I do have a problem with it. Your fucking friends are in there.”

“I’ll deal with them.”

“Wow,” you snort. “So reliable.”

Still, you follow. Beomgyu twists his door knob and you’re suddenly nervous for the possible bullshit Heeseung would barrage you about your relationship with Beomgyu, but that doesn’t happen. The moment Beomgyu cracks open the door, his voice bounces around the inside of his apartment’s walls. “Anyone who doesn’t leave after the count of five will be banned from my apartment forever. Five. Four—”

Holy crap. You’re more surprised to see it actually work because Heeseung and Jeongin who’d been laying on the floor and tinkering with their playstation controllers have suddenly catapulted from the ground. “Wait, what about her?!” Heeseung protests as he’s being shoved by Jeongin out the door.

“She’s exempted,” Beomgyu responds. “Three. Two—”

“Whatever’s going on between you two, I take credit! You better spill the beans tomorrow. I can’t stand—”

“One.”

With that, the door is shut.

Quiet washes over. Beomgyu turns to face you. “Good?” he asks. You give him a pat on the head.

“Good.” He’s like a puppy, you think, and retract your arm before spinning around to look around his living space. “What are we watching?”

It’s your first time inside, and the first thing you notice is how freaking dark it is inside his apartment. The windows are covered by blackout curtains, the television’s blue light and the light bulb from the kitchen island being the only light sources inside. You take the liberty to plop down on the floor in front of the sofa, further welcoming yourself to turn off the game the two were playing to scroll through Netflix.

“Remember the movie we got in trouble for watching?” Beomgyu rouses. He’s in the kitchen and cracking open the cupboards. “It was in eighth grade, I think.”

“The one that our parents thought was porn?” you question. Anyone would have thought it was porn with the word Bodies and the 18+ label on the CD case. “I don’t really recall the plot.”

“Me neither. All I can remember were your pissbaby screams.”

“I was fourteen!”

He throws you a bag of chips and settles down right next to you. “Yeah, and so was I. Gimme the remote, scaredy cat.”

This guy is a perpetual test on your patience, but you continue to let him test you anyway. Before long, the television is shrouded by the familiar graphic imagery that scared you shitless early into your teenhood, and Beomgyu’s warmth is seeping into your side. His face is outlined by the bright red douses onscreen, melting into the contours of his face. “What are you looking at?” he asks, eyes absentmindedly still on the screen, hand mechanically digging into the bag of chips resting on your lap. “Don’t tell me you’re still scared? Wow, what a baby.”

“Coming from you? Your eyes are still red, Beomgyu. Your big baby tears have stained my shirt.” You swat his hand away. A creak rips out from the speakers. “Maybe you’re the one acting all tough.” Suspenseful music builds up. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell your friends and fans that the great Choi Beomgyu is actually— eek!”

There’s a jumpscare. And Beomgyu is laughing his ass off as you unbury your face from his shoulders, ungripping the wrinkled fabric of his shirt with a sharp glare and flushed cheeks. “Not a single word from your whore mouth,” you warn. He’s grinning like crazy as he looks down at you.

“You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Neither have you,” you sneer, trying to play off how you flinched at the sudden loud noise from the screen, but he’s probably noticed. How could he not notice every jitter from your bones when your legs are practically tangled together, when he keeps reaching out an arm over you to steal from the chip bag you keep nestled on your side away from him.

The next moments are filled with nothing but the noise of guts ripping, limps splattering, and blood-curdling screams.

“Can we watch something else?!”

“No way. Quit being lame and suck it up.”

Yet— in spite of the jumps and squirms and suppressed squeaks from your person— you haven’t felt this comfortable in months.

YOU DON’T LIKE CHOI BEOMGYU. You don’t like how much of your time he’s wasted. You don’t like how much of your pride he’s forced you to swallow. You don’t like how much of your identity he’s inadvertently stripped away.

You don’t like him for all those things, but here you are— dressed in his department’s colors, carrying a sign with his stupid face printed on, and waiting for the past thirty god damned minutes because he was supposed to be here ages ago for the stupid fucking E-Sports Fest that you’re not even remotely interested in.

If you don’t show up in five, I’m going home, you angrily mash on your phone. You’re risking it all here. If Heeseung sees you in this traitor outfit, he’s going to give you the silent treatment for a week. The bastard still owes you two more weeks of lunch to repent. You can’t lose the upper hand. You can’t lose your leverage.

Your phone buzzes. Had to piss. Be there in a bit, his reply says.

“I don’t need to be informed about your bladder activities, you freak,” you grumble to yourself. Your bright orange ensemble has been catching unwanted attention. That or his face on your sign. Any minute longer, you’re going to bury yourself alive.

“Excuse me.”

You feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn around and see an unfamiliar face. He’s wearing the same shirt color as you. “Are— are you friends with Choi Beomgyu?” he asks. The bastard has collected another fanboy. You feel a throb in the side of your head.

“Yes. Yes, I’m fucking friends with Choi Beomgyu. What about it? What do you want?”

“Whoa, there.”

The said bastard swoops in and swings an arm over your shoulder and presses you to his side. “Sorry about that,” he tells the guy. Your sneer deepens. Beomgyu gives you a subtle pinch on the arm. “My friend is just grumpy because we lost a game to the engineering department earlier. Anyway, how can I help you?”

Orange number two wanted to ask for a picture with him because he was so cool in the Sudden Attack match earlier. Beomgyu excuses himself for a moment and they take a quick photo. “Tangerines are supposed to look pretty, you know,” your stupid friend announces once he gets back to you. You start making your way to the venue for his next match. It’s in a closed classroom. There’s a projector screen outside to livestream it. “Quit scowling. You’re scaring the kids.”

“That’s the plan,” you tell him. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

“If you keep acting like that, I might get the wrong idea,” he says. You look at him. There’s a subtle smile on his face and you don’t like it. “It’s like you only want me for yourse— ow! Joking! Joke— it was a joke! Jeez.”

“Go win, or whatever.” You shove him off seeing that you’ve arrived. It’s already pretty crowded. You’re scanning the area for a good spot to squeeze into.

“I better be hearing your cheers from inside the classroom.”

“Don’t bet on it,” you send him off with a smile. “If you lose, I’m unfriending you.”

“Not the first time you’d be doing it.”

“Fuck off. Good luck.”

He nods with a salute and an expression that mirrors yours before disappearing off into the classroom, and you’re left with two dozen bodies uncomfortably wedged in the hallway just to watch him play a game you don’t even know the god damned rules for.

You don’t like Beomgyu. His face is something you’re sick of seeing after nearly twenty years of being stuck with him.

You don’t like him. Not even when he seems to always pick you despite having a million other options. Not even when he single-mindedly bulldozes straight into you despite having a whole army cheering for him on the sides after he’s won another game for his department, waiting for your praise and the usual swears you spit on his face with a bright smile.

“Congrats, fuckface,” you say, receiving him in your arms as he engulfs you in a tight hug. You give him a few pats on the back for good measure.

“You’re treating me to dinner, dipshit,” he grins, pulling away, but keeping a hold of your shoulders.

“Spoiled brat,” you sneer.

You don’t like him. He keeps buzzing around you like an immortal mosquito that just doesn’t die even after being swatted away tens of thousands of times.

“Only to you,” he hums, looping an arm around your neck and starting dragging you along forward. “Let’s go. I’m hungry.”

You don’t like Choi Beomgyu.

“Where do you wanna eat?”

You don’t. You really don’t.

#choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt x reader #tomorrow x together x reader #choi beomgyu x you #beomgyu x you #txt x you #tomorrow x together x you #choi beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu scenarios #choi beomgyu fanfic #beomgyu fanfic #choi beomgyu fluff #beomgyu fluff #txt fluff #tomorrow x together fluff

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wordsinhaled · 9 months

Text

the thing about crowley’s confession is… he must have thought about it in the bit of time he had before doing it. i mean... he went and sat outside marguerite’s with his wine, and thought. he thought very hard about how there was a threat—a sleeper—a ticking time bomb in aziraphale’s bookshop that could explode at any moment, take away all their hard-won peace, their safety, their comfort.

but most importantly, a threat to aziraphale. gabriel had tried once to destroy aziraphale already, and only hadn’t because they'd swapped bodies. and crowley's clearly terrified that this time, what they're doing feels reckless, feels like playing with something far too important at stake. it's like... already knowing someone is so important to you—and then having the possibility that it could really be something dangled in front of you—and then knowing there's an existential threat to that potential? awful. horrifying. no wonder he can't find the words.

we know crowley is a romantic. we know how much joy it brings him to see other people fall in love. and... honestly... i'm not sure it’s that nina needed to spell the nature of his feelings out for him, exactly. crowley's known where he stands towards aziraphale for a long time if we're to judge him by his acts (which are always acts of service, care, and attention, which always speak louder than his words). so i don't think it was that, as much as just—the experience of being perceived by someone else, sort of jostling something for him.

because crowley's watched the romance films, hasn't he, he knows the exact tropes he's working with, but the idea that they could apply to him—to him and aziraphale? i don't think he considered that until it was offered to him as an option. and once it was, there was crowley's mind far exceeding the speed limit trying to wrap itself around all of this.

and so he must have looked at it, and all signs, all signs, were pointing to aziraphale being receptive.

crowley probably thought about all the times aziraphale had touched him in the last day alone. all the little glances and looks aziraphale had been giving him, which crowley surely hadn’t missed because he’s always staring right back. he probably thought about how aziraphale thinks the bentley is their car and the bookshop is their shop, about how aziraphale told him that he thought they’d carved a peaceful existence out for themselves. and after the ball, he probably thought about how aziraphale asked him to dance, at this event that was meant to get other people to fall in love, but aziraphale had wanted to dance with him.

so crowley most likely looked at all of this and thought he’s finally ready. he’s finally caught up. when i ask this time, he’s going to say yes. and he watched aziraphale so warily, too, after the realization, because there's a way that it feels, to be holding on to a truth so direly important and so terribly exciting and so very requited, as far as crowley can tell. it's like, am i holding myself differently now? can he tell? has he always been able to tell? am i about to muck it up? i'm about to muck it up. i muck everything up, but not this. not this. he's the center of my universe so it's worth it. and it's alright, even if i muck it up, because he's going to say yes. dear god: i'd only ask if it was important.

and so he queued up their song in the bentley and he talked to muriel like they’re a them, like they’re going to be a couple, a couple who needs us time. he gave himself the luxury of imagining it, of planning it all out in his mind—how everyone was going to finally leave off pulling them toward some greater purpose and just let the two of them be together, and aziraphale was going to at last let crowley be to him what he’s always wanted to be—what he’s been being already, evidently, to the point where strangers on the street ask how long they’ve been together.

and then in the end, to be rejected like that. to be rejected even while the love is pouring off aziraphale in anguished waves—and if he loves me too, then why won't he say yes? to be rejected and to know this isn't how it's supposed to go, even though it's the way it's always gone. crowley always asks and aziraphale always says no. somehow, this time was supposed to be different. he'd dared to hope properly. and how had he misjudged it so terribly this time? how much of it had been wishful thinking? and he had to have felt aziraphale's hands grasping at his shoulders, had to have felt the start of a kiss returned, and thought that maybe there was a spark of hope yet.

but there wasn't.

because nothing lasts forever. apparently.

#aughhhhhh #good omens #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #aziracrow

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ozzgin · 8 months

Note

Hello, i wanted to ask you for a part 2 about the female predator from earth.

I wanted to know if you could write about the courting process with which male ? The gifts, show of power, that they are capable of producing and protect pups ... And one day reader has her first heat because before she didn't have potential mate. She's all sweet, affectionate and vulnerable, and that is total opposite of the typical female in heat who is dominant and fight her partner. How ours sexy hunters react and do ???

And expect me to soon ask a part 3 with a pregnant female 😁.

Bye, thanks for reading this.

Assuming the courting happens simultaneously I have a feeling it’d end in a bloodbath, so the harem shall be at distanced intervals for the time being.

Various Predators x Predator! Reader Headcanons: Courting

Featuring the previous Predators (Feral, Elite, Bad Blood and Berserker) but with a more detailed description of their courting process. Time to pick your baby daddy. TW: Dubious consent again.

Part 1: Meeting

Part 2: Courting

Part 3: Mating

Feral Predator is the most respectful and approachable of the lot. After all, he’s the one that introduced you to your lost heritage. His communion with nature and tradition shapes his beliefs of sacred respect towards the opposite gender. You’re the bringer of Life and his purpose is to serve you. He enjoys impressing you with his agile hunting prowess. He has perfectly adapted to Earth and if you desire to remain here, he is the only one that can provide for you. But don’t rush to assume he wouldn’t do well anywhere else. His blood is that of noble survival, relying on raw, primitive instinct and intelligence. He is not bound to technology or modern aids, just pure skill. Your lineage will have its success guaranteed under his watch. Feral Predator is briefly taken aback upon seeing your sudden affection, but he’s quick to figure out why you’re acting like this. At this point he may know your body even better than you do. No worries, he will show you the ropes. He will lead everything.

Elite Predator would very much like to simply scoop you up and return you to Yautja Prime. Though spending the rest of his life with a resentful wife doesn’t sound too fun, so he’ll have to make an extra effort to convince you. What do you even need convincing for? Truly, it must be your human background that stops you from seeing the obvious facts. He hasn’t been ranked Elite for nothing. He’s a veteran of the battlefield and has proven his worth plenty of times. You cannot possibly find someone better when it comes to guarding and training the offspring. He’s ready to put an end to your stubbornness when he notices your abrupt neediness. This it not how it usually goes and he’s unsure of how to proceed, but maybe this will serve as the final proof that you must choose him as your partner. Do yourself a favor and accept the given truth. There’s no one else for you.

The fugitive Bad Blood isn’t one to care much for approvals. Or morals, for that matter. Your protests are mere foreplay to him, although a little bit of compliance every now and then wouldn’t hurt. In that case he doesn’t mind threatening you with the lives of your little human caregivers. So you can be good and agree that he’s the best choice for a partner, or he himself can help you with your reluctance. Give you a little push. Oh, don’t make that face. Your parents would’ve agreed! There’s a whole universe to explore and you’re held back by pitiful attachments to creatures that don’t even matter. Once you accept him as your mate, you won’t need anything else. That’s a promise. It’ll be you, him, and the future sucklings as proof of your bond. There’s a reason he’s managed to survive for so long all alone: he’s strong. So really, it’s better to have him on your side rather than your opponent. Especially when you’re so vulnerable.

The Berserker doesn’t need to rely on threats or persuasion. He prefers to let his raw power and aggression speak for themselves. He knows that you can tell the difference: he’s a different breed altogether, stronger and bigger. Why would you willingly settle for less, when you can have the best of the best? You wouldn’t deny your future younglings the superior genes of survival. If you become his mate, you’ve sealed your success whether on Earth or any other Planet. As much as he enjoys your feisty, stubborn side, he finds your heated clinginess an addicting stroke to his ego. Your displays of affection are borderline pathetic, but that’s fine because it’s for his eyes only. See, you have the privilege of being as vulnerable as you wish with him as your protector. So go ahead and beg for his attention. He’ll be happy to comply.

#predator #predator x reader #predator headcanons #yautja #yautja x reader #prey #monster x reader

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asirensrage · 1 year

Text

Dealing with Unwanted Attention - The Hashira

An exploration of how the Hashira (+bonus) help you deal with unwanted attention from a neighbour.

Modern!AU!Demon Slayer (and female!reader).

Adult!Hashira (except for Muichiro and Tanjiro and co who are all teens)

Rating: T

Pairings: Nothing explicit but suggestive... (aside from Tengen&wives)

Warning: swearing, some violence/threats, mention of possible stalking (they've been staring at them for a while), slight poisoning, neighbour being a creep, mention of them wanting to watch women make out.Un-beta'd.

Word count: ~ 4800

Notes: Based on true events (mainly the neighbour staring and stopping the reader to confess their feelings). I wasn't planning on writing this in 2nd person pov, but it kept trying to change into it as I wrote, then when I was trying to choose between 2nd and 3rd, my friend chose 2nd and a random wheel picker chose 2nd...so I gave in to the universe. This got long. Enjoy!

Please let me know what you think and if I got the characterizations right. One of my fave lines I've written is in this, see if you can guess lol.

What they arrive to:

You try to be polite to your neighbours. There’s no need to be rude, even if you’d rather be left alone by them, but you didn’t expect it to lead to this. You know the man has been watching you. You could feel his eyes on you when you were outside and he was on his balcony, but you’ve never said more than a thank you to him for holding open the door for you so you’re not entirely sure how you’re in this mess.

He’s confessing to you. This man that you’ve never officially met until right now, who might actually be younger than you, who is telling you he’s an alcoholic but that he’ll change. For you. How does he think this is appealing? You’re trying to find an exit, you don't want to be completely rude since you live in the same building and you’re likely going to see him again, but you want out. Now.

The reactions:

Sanemi

“Who the fuck is this?”

You let out a breath at the voice, relief setting in deep in your bones. ��Sanemi,” you turn with a smile, grateful for his timing.

He’s not looking at you. His eyes are on the man standing in front of you, who’s still trying to reach out to touch you. Again. Sanemi moves, stepping forwards until he’s in front of you, blocking the man from your view. He stares at you for a moment, taking stock of the relief he can practically feel radiating from you. “Are you ready to go?” he asks. You don’t have any plans, but you don’t care. You’ll follow him anywhere right now.

“Yeah. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Tch. You should be,” he says. He sounds irritated but you know him better by now.

“Excuse me,” the man behind him interrupts. “We’re in the middle of something.”

You watch as Sanemi’s expression shifts into something slightly murderous as he slowly turns to look at the other man. “Did I fucking ask?” The man steps back and Sanemi takes the motion to move forward, getting into his personal space like he tried to get into yours. “You know him?” Sanemi directs the question to you despite not looking back.

“He lives here.”

“I’m introducing myself,” the man says. “We’ll be friends.”

“Friends?” Sanemi scoffs. “She has enough friends.” He steps forward again, forcing the man back. “You ever make her uncomfortable again or even try to touch her again, I’ll break your fucking hands, got it?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Good. Fucking creep,” Sanemi turns back to you, ignoring him. “Come on.” He waits for you to move, keeping himself between you as he leads you away from the building. “He ever bothers you again, you tell me.”

You grin up at him. “I will. Thank you.”

“You just got lucky I showed up.”

“...why did you come by?”

He doesn’t answer.

Shinobu

“My my, what’s this?”

You turn to look at the voice, relief setting in that at least you won’t have to do this alone. Shinobu doesn’t offer you a hug, but she stands next to you, glancing at the man before looking back at you. “New friend?” Shinobu asks, a light smile on her face.

You know better than to assume that your friend is being polite. “A neighbour,” you confirm, ignoring the flash of anger you catch on the man’s face. Great. Another thing to deal with.

Shinobu hums lightly before she turns to the man. “Is there something you needed?”

The man blatantly looks over her before smiling. “I am introducing myself. Hopefully, we can be friends. All of us.” He is either unaware of the danger the small woman presents or ignores it. Either one marks him as an idiot.

“Oh? Are you incapable of making friends?”

He blinks in surprise and you know he’s unsure whether or not to take offence. Shinobu has a way of saying things in her light voice that most men don’t realize are as cruel as she intends them to be. “What?”

“Are you unable to make friends?” she asks again, smile still in place. “I assume that’s why you’re cornering a woman who’s clearly not interested. It’s a bit pathetic, don’t you think?”

“Pathetic?” he catches the insult and scowls at your friend.

“Yes,” Shinobu nods. “Does that make you angry? There are ways to fix it, that don’t involve my friend.”

“I’m not pathetic! I was–” he’s cut off as he reaches forward. Shinobu’s hand grabs his wrist before he can reach you. He tries to pull back and frowns slightly as her nails scratch him as he pulls away. “I was introducing myself,” he continues.

“Then you’re done and now you can leave,” Shinobu nods. He looks as though he’s going to protest but he sways slightly before blinking rapidly.

“Did you do something?” you ask Shinobu, who looks at you innocently. You know better though.

“Hmm…it might be a reaction to the latest experiment. Perhaps it got on my nails. I’m sorry,” she smiles at the man. “You should be fine with some rest. It’s not nearly enough to be fatal.”

The man pales. “What?”

“You should go,” Shinobu says. “Unless you’re willing to be a test subject. I’m sure no one will miss you if you’ve cornered women before. Perhaps you should be more careful, no?”

The man basically runs from her and you watch as he leaves.

“What was really on your nails?” you ask, looking at Shinobu.

“A mild paralytic. He’ll survive,” she says. “I came to ask if you wanted to join me for dinner?”

“After that? Absolutely.”

Gyomei

Someone calls your name and before you can even turn to look, you see the man in front of you blanch. You know the voice and it’s entertaining to see firsthand how intimidated someone can be by your friend behind you. Especially when you know that he’s the kindest one of you all.

“Are you alright?”

“Gyomei,” you greet warmly. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see if you would join me for the afternoon. Are you busy?”

You look at your neighbour who is still staring at the tall man in shock.

“Oh,” Gyomei says. “My apologies for interrupting.” He turns to the man. “I am Himejima Gyomei.”

Your neighbour introduces himself and you try not to be annoyed at how he’s stepping back now that someone else is here. Especially when it’s another man. “Are you friends?” your neighbour asks.

Gyomei looks down at you. “I am very lucky to have her in my life.” It’s not an answer and you have a feeling he’s done it intentionally. Whatever. You’re not going to complain if it gets you out of this.

You smile up at him. “I think I’m the lucky one,” you say. You mean it too. Gyomei is a calming presence in your life, someone steadfast that you know you can rely on. He rests his hand on your shoulder and you relax under it. You’re safe with him.

He turns back to your neighbour. “Please, continue your conversation. I can wait.”

“No,” your neighbour says. “It’s fine. I didn’t realize…” he trails off before wandering away without saying goodbye.

“Are you alright?” Gyomei asks again.

“Yeah,” you say. “I am now.”

Obanai and Mitsuri (because ofc they're together)

You notice when his gaze shifts from you to something behind you. Then you hear it.

“You’re outside! Did you know we were coming?”

You turn to see Mitsuri heading towards you, Obanai behind her, his eyes already on your neighbour who is staring…at Mitsuri. You turn and move, just enough to block his view. Mitsuri doesn’t have a problem showing off any of her assets, but that doesn’t mean your creep of a neighbour could stare. Ew.

Misturi crashes into you with a hug, as though it’s been years since you’ve last seen each other and not days. You hug back just as tight, grateful for the company.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“We came to take you out!” Misturi pulls back and motions towards Obanai. “We missed you!”

You weren’t sure if that was the truth but a quick glance at Obanai shows that he’s moved to stand between you two and your neighbour. He nods toward you and you can’t help but smile back.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“Dinner,” Obanai says.

“Excuse me!” your neighbour cuts in, moving to the side so that Obanai is no longer blocking him. "Hey, we were talking.”

“Oh!” Mitsuri turns to face him. “I’m sorry!”

Obanai glares at the interruption. “Who are you?”

“Her neighbour. We were just getting introduced.” He gives his name again, this time reaching for Mitsuri’s hand. He does not get far.

“You often touch people without them wanting you to?” Obanai asks, his grip tightening on the man’s wrist. Your neighbour tries to pull back but is unable to.

“He was just introducing himself,” Mitsuri says. “Weren’t you?”

“Of course!” Your neighbour says. “Can’t people be friendly?”

“No.”

You have to hide a smile as Mitsuri giggles at Obanai’s response.

“Go ahead,” Obanai says. “I’d like a word with your neighbour.” He doesn’t look at you, keeping his eyes on the man whose wrist he’s still holding.

“Okay!” Mitsuri grabs your hand and starts pulling you away. “Nice to meet you! Don’t be too rough, Obanai, okay?” Once they’re far enough away, Misturi lets go and looks at you. “Are you alright? You looked uncomfortable.”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling softly. “He came out of nowhere. I’m glad you were there.”

“Don’t worry, Obanai will let him know you’re not interested. Besides, you have us!”

You hug Mitsuri again with one arm. “I do!”

Muichiro

You step back as your neighbour moves forward, reaching for your hand again. Why does he keep trying to touch you?

“I don’t think she likes that,” a voice comes from the side. Both of you look and your face lights up when you see who it is.

“Muichiro! What are you doing here?”

His head tilts slightly as he looks at you. “You said I could come any time.”

You smile slightly as you nod. “You’re right, I did.” The kid was always welcome but it was rare to see him without his twin. “Where’s Yuichiro?”

“He said he’d come later. He thinks he’s figured out a move that will beat me in shogi.”

“Is this your brother?” your neighbour cuts in. He smiles at the younger boy and introduces himself. Muichiro ignores him.

“Are you going out?” he asks. “Can we join you?”

“Yes,” your neighbour adds. “We can walk with you. Get to know each other better.” You recoil from him reaching for you again and step back.

“Not you,” Muichiro cuts in. “You are not invited.”

“What?”

“You’re not invited,” the kid says again. “I don’t think you should touch her anymore. She doesn’t like it.”

“Listen, brat, no one asked you.”

“Hey!” you cut in, scowling. Why was it always easier to defend someone else than it was to defend yourself? “He’s right. You can’t just invite yourself. Thank you, but I’m not interested.”

He reaches for you again but Muichiro knocks him over as the boy moves forward. “She said she’s not interested.” Muichiro stares at the man on the ground for a moment. “You shouldn’t bother women who aren’t interested.” He looks back at you. “Should we call someone?”

“It’s fine,” you say. “Come on, let’s go meet Yuichiro on the way. I’ll buy dinner.” You both leave the man to pick himself up and you silently pray he gets the hint.

Giyu

You almost don't hear your name being called. The lack of reaction doesn’t stop Giyu from moving forward and standing next to you.

You look up at him in relief. “Giyu!”

“I called,” he says. He glances at your neighbour who is watching you. “Are you busy?”

“No,” you shake your head, hoping that he’ll be able to at least get you out of this. Even as hopeless as he was socially, you know that he’ll pick up on your hints. You’ve known each other long enough.

“We’re in the middle of a conversation,” your neighbour says, looking unimpressed that you’re dismissing him.

Giyu looks at him before turning back to you. “Are you hungry? I wanted to talk.”

“Sure!”

“Excuse me,” your neighbour interrupts again.

Giyu gives you an unimpressed look but turns to face him. “Can I help you?”

“You’re interrupting. I was just getting to know your friend.”

Giyu stares at the man for a moment. “I don’t think she wants to know you.”

Your neighbour’s jaw drops. “Who are you to say that?”

“Her friend.” Giyu looks at you again. “Do you want to stay?”

You shake your head slightly, just enough to convey your desire to leave. You might have to never come back. Or maybe you could convince him to move. “Let’s get something to eat.”

“There’s no need to be rude!” your neighbour snaps.

“She’s not rude,” Giyu says. “It was clear she wasn’t interested before. You should pay attention.” You try not to laugh at Giyu of all people pointing out ignoring social cues. You adore him more for it. “Let’s go.”

“Hey!” your neighbour reaches out, aiming for Giyu’s shoulder to stop him from leading you away. He doesn’t make it. Giyu steps to the side, turning as he grabs your neighbour’s hand and directs the motion straight to the ground.

You can’t stop the gasp at the sound of him hitting the ground.

Giyu holds him there for a moment. “Are you done?” he asks. He finally releases him and steps back. “You should keep your hands to yourself.” Giyu looks at you again. “Can we go now?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “We can.”

He offers you his hand to step over your neighbour and leads you away. “If he bothers you again, call us.”

“I will.”

Kyojuro

Someone shouts your name and as soon as you hear it, you calm down. Things are going to be okay. You turn towards the voice and grin. “Kyo!”

“I hoped you were home!” He strides forwards towards the two of you. He looks between you both. “Am I interrupting?”

“No!” you exclaim as your neighbour says “yes.”

Kyojuro looks at you both before he nods. “I see. My apologies regardless.” He smiles at your neighbour and offers his hand. “I am Rengoku Kyojuro. Who are you?”

You watch as your neighbour introduces himself almost warily as if he’s not sure what to make of the situation.

Kyojuro turns to you, stepping closer and smiling down. “Are you free today?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. Continue your conversation, I will wait.” He crosses his arms over his chest and turns to face your neighbour. The man looks stunned to be pinned by Kyojuro’s gaze. You know the feeling but you wait to see if he’s going to continue to confess under your friend’s stare.

“I uh…” your neighbour glances at Kyojuro again before he looks at you. “As I was saying, I want to know you more! If you don’t like that I drink, I’ll stop.”

You look at Kyojuro whose expression hasn’t changed but you can see the tension in his form. You wouldn’t notice if you didn’t know him like you do. “I heard you,” you say carefully. It’s safer now, you feel, to decline his interest outright with someone else with you. “Thank you, but I’m not interested.”

“You haven’t even given me a chance,” your neighbour says. You don’t want to. “We could just spend time together.”

“No thanks,” you say, shifting closer to Kyojuro without thinking.

Your neighbour steps forward, reaching for your hand again. “I’m not trying–”

“She has made herself clear,” Kyojuro interrupts, his hand on the man’s wrist, preventing him from touching you. “Do not dishonour yourself further and press for her attention.”

“Dishonour? I’m just trying to ask her out!”

“And she refused,” Kyojuro says, still staring at the man. “I fear that if she should accept, the flame of her heart would be drowned by the weight of your desire. I cannot accept that!”

“I didn’t ask you,” your neighbour snarls.

“You did not! But I am here regardless and thankful for it, if only to protect her from your refusal to hear her disinterest. Leave now.”

“You can’t just–”

“I can! I trust that you will not embarrass yourself further. Should I hear that you continue to push or attempt to take advantage, I will not be as forgiving as I am now.”

The man stares at him for a moment before Kyojuro finally lets go. Your neighbour stumbles back slightly. He glares at you both, rubbing at the wrist Kyojuro held before he walks off, heading to the building. Kyojuro watches until the man disappears into the building before he turns to you. “Are you alright?”

You move without really thinking, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him tightly. “Thank you.”

He pauses for a moment before he brings his arms around you, holding you against him. “It’s alright,” he says softly. “I am just glad I was able to be here.”

You pull back. “I appreciate the help. What brings you around?”

“I wanted to see you, of course!” He lets go as you move away. “As you are not busy, would you be willing to join me? I have something I wanted to show you!”

“Of course! Let’s go!”

Tengen

An arm drapes itself over your shoulder. If you weren’t familiar with the weight of it, the scent of the man who pulls you into him, you would have recoiled. “What’s this then?”

You look up at the built man who towers over the rest of you. “Tengen! What are you doing here?”

“Came to see you, of course! Who’s this?” Despite the cheerful tone, he doesn’t take his eyes off your neighbour.

“My neighbour,” you say after a moment as you realize the man in question is still looking at Tengen.

“Hm,” Tengen leans down, putting his face next to yours and ignoring your neighbour. “You miss me?” He grins as he asks, eyes on you.

“Didn’t I just see you the other day with the others?” you quip back, used to his flirting.

“Who are you?” the man finally speaks up.

Tengen glances over at him and you can practically see him considering if he wants to deal with the man. He straightens, keeping his arm around you, and grins. “Uzui Tengen! Flashiest man around and the love of her life!”

“You’re not the love of my life,” you say automatically.

“I could be,” Tengen says. He leans down closer again and his voice lowers. “Don’t you want to give us a chance?”

“We’re talking,” your neighbour cuts in again. “In fact, if she’s not interested, it’s all the more reason she should say yes to going out with me.”

“I would think that the she in question should make the choice,” you mutter.

“Why would she date someone as unflashy as you?” Tengen asks, looking unimpressed.

Your neighbour seems taken aback by the question. “What? Why wouldn’t she?”

Tengen makes a point of looking the man up and down. “You have no flair! No flamboyance! In fact, it’s very unflashy of you to keep ignoring her like this while you talk about her, right Angel?”

“Hmm,” you nod in agreement.

Tengen tightens his grip slightly “Do you want to go out with this boring man?” He asks.

“No.”

“There you have it. Now,” Tengen leans towards your neighbour. “In fact, I don’t think you should bother her again and if you do, well…I’ll show you how flashy I can be.”

The man swallows slightly, as though he’s suddenly reminded of Tengen’s size. “Uh sure,” your neighbour says. He glances at you. “Sorry.”

You don’t get a chance to respond because Tengen leads you away, arm still around you and heads towards your building.

“You’re not going out anywhere, are you? Thought we could order in. Unless you want to go out. Karaoke?”

“Are we going to invite the girls?”

He grins at you. “Of course!”

Bonus!

Tengen & his wives!

You hear the squeal first and then Suma crashes into you. You hug the woman back, used to how affectionate she is.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, completely distracted from the situation with your neighbour as you look to see Makio and Hinatsuru heading towards you.

“We missed you!” Suma says, pulling back.

“Will you let her go?” Makio demands, yanking Suma back as they get close. “You’re interrupting!”

“Sorry!” Suma lets go. “I was just excited!”

“It has been a while since we’ve seen you,” Hina agrees. She looks over at your neighbour before turning back to you. “Sorry for interrupting. We hope you don’t mind that we dropped by unannounced.”

“Not at all,” you smile at the three women that now surround you. Makio has shifted, taking point to be in between you all and your neighbour. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I bet,” Makio says. There’s a brief moment where you all communicate silently with each other. The slight widening of the eyes, the nod and shifting of the shoulders. The way friends have communicated about the people around them for ages without words. It’s enough that the three women are all aware that you’re uncomfortable and are grateful for their help.

“Excuse me.”

They all turn to look at your neighbour who looks delighted at the sudden prospect of more women to interact with. It probably helps that all three of the new ones are gorgeous, well-endowed and wearing low-cut tops.

“What?” Makio asks, unimpressed. Suma shifts slightly to stand closer to you.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says before introducing himself. The women all stare at the hand he offers but none of them reach to take it. He pauses before finally dropping it, but he steps closer. “We were just getting to know each other,” he says. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”

No, you think. You don’t get a chance to answer though because Makio turns her back on the man and faces you again. “Have you eaten?” Makio asks.

“Oh yeah!” Suma grabs your arm and you feel a rush of affection for these women who have shown up and are trying to help. “If you have, we could get dessert!”

“You’re not busy, are you?” Hina asks.

“No,” you shake your head.

“Hey!” your neighbour cuts in again. “There’s no reason to be a bitch. You could have just said you were into girls. I wouldn’t have minded…especially if I can watch.”

Your jaw drops open and you can see the way the others nearly shake with anger. Before any of them can step forward, your attention is drawn behind him as Tengen appears.

“Oh ho! What’s this?” His hand slaps down on your neighbour's shoulder. You can see his grip tighten. “I didn’t just hear you call them something so unflashy, did I?”

“Tengen!” You all call out, your voice tinged with a little more relief. As glad as you are for the company of the girls, you don’t want to subject them to your neighbour more than you have to.

Tengen grins at the four of you before focusing back on the man he’s holding. “Now, what were you saying?”

“What? Nothing!”

“Liar!” Makio snaps.

“He called her a bitch, Tengen,” Hina says softly. She loops her arm around yours on the side that doesn’t have Suma.

“He said he wanted to watch!” Suma adds.

“Oh really?” Tengen’s eyes narrow. “Perhaps you girls should go ahead and I’ll catch up…after I teach this one some manners.”

“Good,” Makio nods.

“We’ll let you know where we decide to go,” Hina says softly. “Come on.” The girls usher you away from the building where Tengen is still keeping your neighbour in place. The man looks slightly terrified now but Tengen waves you all off with a grin.

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” Suma exclaims, still keeping her arm around yours as they walk.

“Yeah,” Makio agrees. “How long has that creep been bothering you?”

“He’s been staring for a while but just came out of nowhere today, telling me he liked me and wanted to go out. He said he’s an alcoholic but would stop for me.” You see the look the women give each other.

“Maybe you should stay with us,” Hina suggests. “Just for a bit.”

“Yeah!”

You laugh slightly. “I don’t know. I’ll have to go home eventually, right? I’m sure he got the point.”

An arm wraps around your shoulder as Tengen appears, inserting himself between you and Suma. He laughs as you both adjust to the new position. “He sure did!” He towers over all of you but Tengen has never felt threatening. At least not to you. “He won’t be bothering you anymore. And if he’s still staring, call us. We’ll deal with him,” he promises.

You smile up at him. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank us,” Hinatsuru says softly. “We’re happy to help.”

“Yeah!” Makio adds. “He’s lucky Tengen showed up before I got to him.”

“I don’t know about that…” Tengen says, “but I know I am with such flashy girls!”

AND

Tanjiro, Nezuko, Zenitsu and Inosuke

The man is holding your hand in a light grip that tightens as you try to pull away. You’re trying not to be rude but his hand is clammy and you never wanted to be touched. You have a feeling you’re going to have to snap and then deal with the repercussions later.

Your attention shifts to the sound of feet hitting the pavement and a familiar voice calling your name. You yank your hand from your neighbour before turning and moving back, managing to avoid Inosuke’s attempt at a tackle. You shift and watch as Zenitsu falls, his attempts to hug you failing. You’re used to these kids and at this point, it’s a game when you meet.

Zenitsu whines at your avoidance.

“Haha!” Inosuke slides to a stop and turns back to you. “You won’t avoid me again!”

“Stop tackling her!”

You ignore Zenitsu and Inosuke as they start arguing and turn to Tanjiro and Nezuko as they stop next to you. “What are you all doing here?”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Tanjiro says softly. “We were passing by and saw you. We thought we’d stop and say hi. I tried to get them to stop from running at you. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you wave him off. “I’m glad to see you.” Nezuko moves forward and offers a hug and you hug back, noticing the way Tanjiro moves between you and your neighbour. Your gaze softens. He’s such a good kid. They all are.

“It’s been awhile,” Tanjiro agrees.

“Excuse me,” your neighbour cuts in, moving around Tanjiro. “Didn’t realize you were so popular with children. Are you related?”

“No,” you say, not willing to give more than that.

“Who are you?” Inosuke shoves himself between you and your neighbour. You can see the man trying to move around the kid, but Inosuke has a way of making himself known. “Fight me!” he demands.

“What? I’m not going to fight a kid.” Your neighbour looks for you but you let go of Nezuko who raises her eyebrows, silently asking if you’re okay.

You nod back, smiling at the girl.

“You think you’ll beat me?” Inosuke says. “You couldn’t touch me. I’m the greatest!”

“Who is that?” Zenitsu asks quietly, coming up to your side now that Inosuke is distracted. “Do you know him?”

“He’s my neighbour,” you say. “He was just…introducing himself.” You wince as you say it.

“You didn’t seem comfortable. Do you want to leave?” Tanjiro asks, focused on you as Inosuke drags your neighbour to more open space in his demands to fight. “We can walk you to where you’re going. Or inside,” he offers.

“Thanks.” You smile in relief, even if they’re just kids, you’re grateful you’re no longer alone.

“Fuck off!” All of your attention turns to the sound of your neighbour yelling at Inosuke. “You freak!”

“Excuse me?” You move around the children, striding towards your neighbour. To hell with being polite. “What did you just say?” He turns to you, surprise crossing his features as though he’s forgotten you were there.

“I–I was just–”

“Just what?” You snap. “He’s a kid and you’re swearing at him?”

“He’s not leaving me alone! I’m trying to talk to you!”

“I don’t want to talk!” You stride forward, aware of the eyes on you. “I haven’t shown the slightest interest and you kept pushing and trying to touch me!” His eyes widen but you don’t stop. “They’re fifteen! And they have more sense and observation than you do. You don’t treat people like that, even if they’re annoying and you don’t keep pushing your attention on to someone who doesn’t want it!”

“I’m sorry,” he reaches for you again.

“Fuck off!” you use his own words against him. “Come on, Inosuke, don’t waste your time fighting him. You’d likely win in seconds. Let’s go.” You turn and walk back toward the others.

“You’re so cool!” Zenitsu cheers as you return.

“That was impressive,” Tanjiro agrees. “Hopefully he’ll listen.”

“If he doesn’t, I’ll come back and show him how weak he is!”

You smile at Inosuke and reach out to ruffle his hair. He ducks out of the way. “Thanks. Come on, let’s get out of here. You guys want to walk me to my friends?”

“Yeah!”

“Let’s go!”

“I’m going to get there first!”

“What!? Wait for us!”

taglist: @raith-way @chrissymunson @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse

#fic: dealing with unwanted attention #hashira x reader #hashira reactions #uzui tengen x reader #kyojuro x reader #gyomei x reader #shinobu x reader #giyu x reader #obanai x mitsuri x reader #sort of #demon slayer fic #kimetsu no yaiba fic #this is just me wishing i had help dealing with this situation lol #also how the hell do i tag this??#demon slayer

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