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frflyavenue · 27 days ago

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Under Your Touch - Chapter 3

Pairing: poly!Ateez x makeup artist!Reader (fem!Reader)

Warnings: Eating and appetite, money is tight, (romantic?) tension, alcohol consumption, getting tipsy/drunk, reader gets overwhelmed, hints at trauma (reader), anxiety, casual swearing, flinching >>This chapter introduces some of Y/N’s traumatic responses, but doesn’t go into any specific trauma for now. All important to the story, I assure you :)

Author’s Note: LONG overdue update of Under Your Touch! Quick note I wanna make on this chapter—first, be aware that my knowledge of Korean is like… not good. That said, I’m a French woman who moved to America permanently to study, and for one year of my University program I studied abroad in the Mapo-gu district in South Korea. My Korean isn’t at all fluent, but I know enough to accurately use honorifics, add cultural details, and some vocab as I see it fit for the story. Also, I have NO CLUE how to romanize Korean, so feel free to correct me lol. Love you guys lots!!

Join me on ao3 @frflyavenue

Chapter 1

Previous Chapter

WC: 6.3k

Chapter 3: Coats and Soju

“Shit-” You whimper, immediately putting the pricked pad of your thumb in your mouth, carefully setting the traitorous sewing needle down on the table in front of you.

There’s really no reason you should be so stressed about this stupid dinner party. Part of you knows that, of course. But the other part of you knows that this party is in celebration for the team hiring a new makeup artist (you) and that it’s purpose is to introduce her to the rest of the team (Ateez and their managers and also everybody else).

So yeah, you’re freaking out.

Your first thought when Hyerin called you this morning to inform you about the dinner party was what to wear. It’s Wednesday, meaning your first day is tomorrow. Cool, you still have no money. And subsequently, nothing to wear. You aren’t the type to go partying, and the only potential party outfits you could think of aren’t exactly formal enough for a work dinner. You could show up in jeans, but you aren’t sure if that’s a good idea for your first professional impression on the team. So, panicked, you went first thing in the morning to a nearby thrift store. On your desperate search to find something decent amongst the mostly ugly options, you managed to find a plain black turtleneck shirt, a cute black alternative style belt, and some men’s cargo shorts you hoped you could do something with.

At home, you began the desperate preparation to put something together. You grabbed your sewing kit, thankful to your past self for bringing your sewing machine with you to Korea, some craft scissors, your jewelry making stuff, and crossed fingers. You put on an Ateez ultimate playlist, deciding to listen to it just in case somebody asked you about their music at the party (you’re definitely going to be prepared, if nothing else), and you got to work.

It’s now an hour before you have to leave, and you’ve finally put together a presentable outfit. You cut the odd turtleneck into an off the shoulder top you managed to adjust to be skin-tight, but still modest. That part was easy. The hard part was the pants. You cut the legs of the cargo pants and sewed them together to resemble a skirt, before trimming the length to look nice on your figure. It was a painstaking process, but the result was a cute cargo skirt that went well with the black belt and the top. To top it off you quickly threw together some silver drop earrings and made a necklace charm to match, lazily disassembling one of your previous necklaces to make the process faster.

Now, you just need to get ready. You take potentially the fastest shower of your life and pull your hair half-up into a cute spiky style in a silver claw clip, braiding thin face-framing pieces to pull to the front. You spend a little more time on your makeup, deciding it should be good enough to prove to the team that you know what you’re doing. You end up with a cute smoky cat-eye liner, a dusty pink blush, and a very minimal base, deciding to let your skin breathe for the evening. You realize that, subconsciously, you went with a more alternative style to match the outfit, and you internally thank whoever gave you the strength to pull it together so last minute.

The outfit really pulled it together, and looking at yourself one last time in the body mirror before you left, you sigh in relief. You look at least half decent—better than what you had hoped, at least. Modest but still cute, and while your look was slightly more alternative style, you still looked cute and unintimidating, thankfully. You grab your purse, throwing on your one pair of boots and running out the door.

——————

By the time you get to the restaurant, you’re absolutely freezing.

God, Y/N, you really are stupid.

You try your hardest to stop the chattering of your teeth as you open your phone to call Hyerin.

In your panic to get out the door with a nice outfit, you completely forgot to grab a jacket. Wearing a skirt was stupid to begin with, but to not even bring a jacket…did you want to get sick?

You push the thought aside, ringing Hyerin’s number. “Unnie? I’m outside of the restaurant!”

Hyerin lets out an excited noise and hangs up, and you only have a few moments to feel confused before she emerges from the door.

Seeing her, your face lights up in a smile, and you rush to hug her. She squeezes you tight, holding onto your shoulders as she greets you.

“Y/N-ah, you’re early!” She exclaims, smiling bright. You nod excitedly up at her.

”Yeah! I wanted to get here before everybody else did so I could settle in a bit.” You admit, and she pinches your cheek affectionately.

The two of you head inside, and she brings you to the private, sectioned off room in the back of the pub that has been reserved for your party. Hyerin sits with you in a booth in the corner, pulling up her phone and clearing her throat.

“Okay, we have a party of 13. All eight of the Ateez members, whom I’m sure you know of?” You nod affirmatively. “Good. There’s the main manager for the members, Li Dohyun-nim. He’s really friendly, but kind of shy, so don’t be intimidated if he keeps to himself. Then there’s Kim Ara-nim, the manager and main stylist in the Ateez stylist team. She’s also really sweet. You actually remind me a lot of her. The only other person that will be here besides you and I is Yoon Sohee-nim, the KQ planner that takes care of everybody’s scheduling. She’s really good at her job, but she isn’t too social, so don’t feel hurt if she doesn’t really talk to you outside of work.” You hum, repeating their names to commit them to memory.

After a while of just chatting with Hyerin and sipping on beer, you check the time. It’s 18:30, meaning the rest of the group should join you and Hyerin any minute now. You bounce your leg nervously.

While it’s comforting knowing that Hyerin, Wooyoung, Jongho, and Hongjoong would all be there as familiar faces, you still feel as if your heart is in your throat. To your surprise, you hardly feel worried about meeting the managers. It’s the thought of meeting the remaining members that’s currently making your stomach turn. Five new men roughly your age… why are you so nervous? Your mind wanders. It’s just a bunch of… guys. Men. Plus, the other three will be there too. You like them. You smile in spite of yourself, pursing your lips together as you take another sip of beer. Wooyoung’s hands… Jongho’s little deer… Hongjoong’s eyes…

You choke suddenly, feeling your face go red. Hyerin, alarmed, pats your back, but you brush off her concern and catch your breath.

What the hell were you just thinking about, Y/N?

You press your cold beer to your cheek, hoping to cool down the raging blush there, when suddenly the door to your private room creaks open.

The Ateez manager you saw during your initial consultation, Li Dohyun-nim, you realize, enters first. You quickly stand up, bowing politely in greeting, which he reciprocates. Then enters a string of new faces—two women and a few unfamiliar, handsome men. You respectively greet them each as they file in, hoping your blush from before isn’t noticeable. When Jongho comes into view, smiling at you, you feel yourself relax a bit, giving him a more casual hello. Just behind him, Wooyoung enters holding the hand of an unfamiliar, muscular man with a stony expression, though you don’t have time to feel intimidated as Wooyoung lets go of him and rushes towards you, making you flinch in surprise. Noticing your discomfort, he opts for excitedly grabbing your hands instead of hugging you, a huge grin plastered on his face. The stone-faced man he was with suddenly giggles, his smile immediately warming up his face into an adorable one as he tugs Wooyoung off of you, shaking his head.

”Wooyoung-ah, control yourself!” He scolds through giggles, playfully hitting Wooyoung’s back. He turns to you, bowing in greeting with a smile still on his face. “Hi, I’m Choi San. I hear we’re the same age, so please refer to me casually.”

You smile sweetly at him, finding him adorable from this impression alone. “Nice to meet you, San-ah. I’m Y/N.” He nods and casually pats your shoulder before moving to take a seat.

The last two to enter the room are Hongjoong and a taller man with a face prettier than most women’s. You clench your jaw to keep it from dropping, not sure if you’re attracted to him or jealous. He smiles elegantly, bowing and offering you his hand to shake. “Hello! I’m Park Seonghwa. Hongjoong-ah has told me a lot about you.” You feel your cheeks warm up slightly at that, glancing in surprise over at Hongjoong who also seems a bit flustered to be called out.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Park Seonghwa-ssi.” You turn to address Hongjoong, smiling. “It’s nice to see you again, Hongjoong-oppa.”

All thirteen of you settle down, finding your seats around the barbecue. You end up sitting between Wooyoung and Hyerin, both of which you begged with your eyes to join you, while a waitress brings your table a few meats to grill. Barbecue. It’s been too long since you’ve had it. Your mouth waters.

“…Y/N?”

“Huh?” You come back to, snapping your head over to Hyerin, realizing you must have zoned out.

She smiles, tilting her head in concern. “I was asking if you wanted to introduce yourself?”

You gasp, suddenly embarrassed as you clumsily stand up and give them all a bow. “I apologize. Good evening everybody, my name is Y/LN Y/N, and I’m going to be working as the new permanent artist on the Ateez makeup team. I’ve already spoken with a few of your members, and I thank you all for being so welcoming to me so far. I look forward to getting to know you all!”

You jump as they all suddenly cheer out their own welcomes, their excitement far more than you expected. While most coworkers may welcome you and pretend to really care, it seems that the eight men all sitting together are genuinely excited. You smile, taking it as a good sign.

Taking your seat back next to Wooyoung, you frown as Hyerin stands up and walks over to speak with another woman pouring drinks at the other end of the table. She’s rather tall, with cateye liner and probably the coolest alternative style you’ve ever seen. You’re almost intimidated, but her smile as Hyerin-unnie greets her, and the way she tucks her hair—dyed orange—back behind her ear they talk helps you connect the dots. Kim Ara-nim.

You look away in time to see the tallest man in the room approach you, and you stand up to bow politely.

“I’m Jeong Yunho,” he offers, his voice enthusiastic but calm. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You look up at him, not sure whether to be more intimidated by the fact that he’s almost a foot taller than you or by the fact that he’s one of the most handsome men you’ve ever laid your eyes on. You clear your throat, offering him a shy smile. “Nice to meet you,” you manage to squeak out, keeping your voice steady.

Wooyoung laughs amusedly beside you, but Yunho just crinkles his eyes in understanding. He gestures to the now empty spot beside you on the booth. “Mind if I sit?”

You clear your throat, smiling affirmatively and sitting with him, scooting over to give him room. Wooyoung playfully nudges your arm with his elbow, and you simply flash him a playful eye roll. All the while, Hongjoong watches from across the table with fond eyes, and while you feel them on you, you consciously avoid them for the sake of your pounding heart. Instead, you focus on the quickly settling party.

The members are all sitting close together around the table, joking casually and bumping shoulders. They’re all remarkably close, you notice, leaning against each other or draping arms over each other's shoulders. You’re surprised at how casual everyone seems for a work dinner, but you actually find the group dynamic reassuring. Hyerin has settled next to Ara-nim, interlocking arms with her and seeming more at ease and playful than you’ve ever seen her. Noting the light blush dusting your historically tough friend’s cheeks, you make a mental note to ask her about their relationship on a later date. Dohyun-nim, Ateez’s main manager, stays relaxed with the members, laying an arm around Hongjoong and ordering some meats to start off the table. The only outlier among the group is Yoon Sohee-nim, who remains stiff with a perfectly straight posture and an unreadable expression. Her eyes are trained on you from where she sits on the other end of the table, and unlike the warm feeling you got from the Captain’s, her eyes cut through you as cold as ice.

You shift uncomfortably under her stare, another shiver shooting up your bare legs. You run your hands over your goosebump-riddled thighs, but give up when you find your fingers just as cold.

In hopes of keeping your mind off of your discomfort, you glance to your left over at Wooyoung, discreetly trying to decipher his dynamic with the built man he’s clinging onto—San-ssi. They’re practically on top of each other, interlocking hands and so close their thighs are overlapping. Wooyoung giggles at one of San’s comments you can’t quite decipher, and leans forward to kiss his cheek. …Are they dating? You’ll have to ask Hyerin about it later.

The sensation of fabric draping over your thighs brings you back to the present, and you glance down in confusion before following the responsible large hands up to the man to your right. “You should’ve said something if you were cold.” He whispers, and you realize it's his coat that he’s tucking around your legs, still warm from his body heat. You meet his gaze again with wide eyes, unable to mask your surprise.

“Oh my- You didn’t have to! Are you sure?”

He shakes his head definitively. “No, I’m wearing a sweater under this anyway.” You try to refute, but he’s quick to stop you. “Please. I’d feel worse knowing my hoobae was uncomfortable all night.”

Touched by his thoughtfulness, a genuine smile graces your expression. In the midst of bustling conversations and nerve-wracking introductions, it’s the most relaxed smile you’ve given since arriving. “Thank you, Yunho-ssi.”

He returns a shy smile, rubbing the back of his neck and silently offering a nod in return. You almost think you see his ears turn pink, but with the dim atmosphere of the room, it could easily be a trick of the light.

You don’t have time to dwell on the sudden bashfulness of the man beside you, as Wooyoung is quick to grab your attention again.

“Y/N, you should tell us all a little bit about yourself!” He calls out, and conversations around the table die down. Feeling everybody’s eyes on you, you feel your heart quicken, suppressing your discomfort with a swallow.

You let out a slow breath to calm your nerves, giving the room a shy smile. “Ah, I suppose I should. Uhm…” You meet Jongho’s eyes, and he doesn’t hesitate to give you an encouraging nod. “Well, my name’s Y/N, and I moved to Korea about eight months ago. I’m still trying to learn Korean, so forgive me if I’m difficult to understand.” There’s a collective shaking of heads from around the table, and you bow your head gratefully. After that, you’re stuck, unsure of what else to say.

Hyerin, noticing your nerves, speaks up. “How’d you get into makeup, Y/N?”

Ah, right. Hyerin-Unnie to the rescue.

“Oh, apologies! Well, I grew up loving to draw. I’ve always been the artistic type, so ever since I was young I would find crafty things to do to pass the time. Doodling, painting, sewing… you name it. I may not have been a spectacular student, but art was the only thing that mattered to me. My first love.” You smile to yourself, reminiscing. “When I became a teenager, I started doing my own makeup. It was one of the only forms of art I hadn’t tried yet, and I loved it. While I mostly just followed tutorials and made up random designs in my bedroom every night, I still loved it, and I got pretty good at doing it on myself after a while. When I moved to Korea, it was still just a hobby to me, something I just did for fun. I found them really pretty, so I experimented with Korean makeup styles, found what I liked, and integrated it into my own style.” You gesture to your face as a simple demonstration.

“One day I went to the market near my apartment, not bothering to take of my makeup since I went for a more natural style earlier that day. That’s when I bumped into Hyerin-unnie.” You smile and look over at her. “And the rest is history.”

Yeosang, who had been relatively quiet throughout the evening thus far, clears his throat. “Can we see your art?”

Your smile falters for a moment with the tightening in your stomach, but you’re quick to recover. You mentally curse out your thundering heart and force yourself to sound peppy. “Sorry, I don’t have any on me at the moment. Another time.”

Yeosang shrugs, seeming only slightly disappointed.

Wooyoung tilts his head at you, but thankfully Seonghwa interrupts him before he can question you.

“It makes sense that you’re an artist,” the elegant man remarks. “It explains why you have such good style.”

You give a shy laugh, shaking your head humbly. “As do you. I’ve wanted to compliment you on your outfit since you got here.” You reply honestly. Conversations around the table have resumed, so you feel more comfortable now that you aren’t put on the spot.

He chuckles, his smile a beautiful sight. You can’t help but stare, purely out of admiration. “Ah, thank you! But seriously, I really do like your outfit. Where’d you get your jewelry from, I would love to get a pair of similar earrings.”

You let out a breathy laugh, bashful. “Ah, sorry, but I actually made these myself earlier today. I’m happy to hear that you like them though—I’d be glad to make you a pair!”

Seonghwa’s eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise, leaning forward to try to see them better from his position on the other side of Yunho. “You made these?”

Yunho turns his head as well, and you feel your cheeks warm up when he gently tucks your hair back, wanting to get a clearer view.

The two of them both let out a long, drawn out exclamation of surprise, and Seonghwa compliments you again in genuine appreciation.

“Phew, I’m glad you like it. Honestly, I was worried the outfit wouldn’t come together. I didn’t have much time to finish up the skirt, but I think the length turned out oka-“

”Wait, you made the skirt too?” Seonghwa exclaims, his voice a bit louder.

You pause and shift uncomfortably at the attention, suddenly wishing you hadn’t said anything in the first place. You never were very good at showing other people your art.

“Ah.. yeah. Honestly, I had to make the whole outfit from whatever I could find at the thrift store earlier today, since I couldn’t find anything appropriate to wear for tonight.” You glance around. “Though I’m glad to learn that everyone is a bit more casual than I anticipated. Next time I won’t stress so much.”

Yunho lets out a low whistle of appreciation, and you feel warm from both sets of eyes skimming over your body, even if you know it’s just to observe your clothes.

“Are you sure you’re a makeup artist and not a stylist?” Seonghwa teases lightheartedly, drawing a surprised sound from your lips while you defensively shake your head.

Yunho smiles at your expression, finding it endearing. He casually leans closer so you can hear him better, his voice friendly. “Seonghwa-hyung is really into fashion," he explains. “You should ask him about it sometime, I’m sure he’d love to exchange ideas.”

You flash him a grateful grin, still a bit tentative but gradually feeling the tension in your shoulders dissipate.

From the sparkle in his eyes, you get the suspicion that he notices. “We’re the same age, right? Shall we drop the honorifics?” He suddenly requests, his voice smooth like honey.

You nod comfortably, your sweet expression sending warmth to his cheeks. “Thank you for your kindness, Yunho-yah.”

——————

By the time drinks come around, you’ve eaten your fill of countless different kinds of grilled meats. You aren’t sure why, but the members kept putting meat on your plate without you asking, simply saying they didn’t want your plate to be empty. San even airplane-fed you some pork from his own chopsticks, and while you were confused, you happily accepted, not the type to deny good food. Too absorbed in the yummy meal, you missed the admiring eyes from everyone at the table, not even hearing their coos and the chorus of “cute”s anytime your cheeks were full.

Now you’re leaning comfortably against the back of the booth while you fondly watch Jongho and Mingi bicker back and forth across the table. Hongjoong sighs and shakes his head in disappointment, and you can’t help but giggle when he pleads with his eyes to Seonghwa for the pretty man to put an end to it. Tipsy on a few shots of soju, Seonghwa simply sends him a silly wink and pours himself another.

You still haven’t finished a single beer, nursing the same bottle with small sips as you converse casually with Wooyoung and San to your left. The two of them really do bounce off of each other well. San is half way through telling you about a story from the Ateez dorms, already pretty tipsy, when Jongho clears his throat, raising his voice for the table to hear.

“I think it’s about time for a drinking game, yeah?”

Ateez’s maknae, you’ve learned, is an excellent drinker. An alcoholic, Wooyoung had jokingly dubbed him, watching him crack open his third beer of the night. You, on the other hand, hate getting drunk; you haven’t told this to your puppy-like coworkers, of course, but the idea of a drinking game makes your stomach tighten for the second time this evening. So, in spite of yourself, you agree, earning a cheer from around the table.

You take a quick trip to the restroom, returning to find soju shots lined up around each person’s place at the table. Now wearing Yunho’s coat around your shoulders, he glances at you from across the table, but quickly looks away to avoid your eyes. Before you get the chance to ask him about it, Jongho calls you over to sit beside him. Since the table order shuffled around, you squeeze between Jongho and Hongjoong, thanking the younger man when he slides an empty shot glass over to you.

“Okay, everyone’s here?”

The members all grunt affirmatively, and the captain smiles. “Okay—what should we play?”

A few different names are thrown around, and you swallow, leaning over to whisper to Hongjoong. “Oppa? I don’t know any of these games..”

His eyes widen just slightly. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t even think about that!” He admits, laughing awkwardly. He hums thoughtfully.

Sensing the opportunity, you clear your throat. “Ah, I’ll just watch you guys, don’t worry about it!”

Surprisingly, Mingi, who you haven’t even spoken with yet, pouts. “We would be happy to teach you an easy one~”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to drink too much anyways, I have work tomorrow.”

Mingi nearly argues, too tipsy to pick up on your cues, but Seonghwa is quick to hush him. “No, we’ll just play a game between the rest of us. If our Y/N doesn’t want to play, she doesn’t have to play.”

You exhale a breath of relief, smiling gratefully over at the older man.

San, bright red and drunk off his ass, pouts. “Aww, that’s no fair! You guys made me drink~” He whines, clumsily leaning onto Mingi.

You sigh. The poor guy had been peer pressured a little bit, it seems… though the first couple of shots were completely his own doing. Decidedly, you suddenly reach for an opened bottle of soju, pouring yourself a shot and tossing it back. Hyerin lets out a surprised squeak, and a few of the members cheer.

Yup. Definitely just men.

You cough, managing to choke it down. “There,” you rasp out, throat burning. “Compensation.”

Hyerin looks like she’s having a crisis, staring at you with genuine shock while Ara laughs next to her, patting her back. Jongho is laughing so hard you think he might piss himself, a sound you haven’t heard before but one you happen to find quite pleasant. You can’t help but grin, proud.

“Alright, Y/N-ah proved herself well,” Hongjoong laughs, hitting your back supportively while you cough on the scratchiness in your throat.

“Cute,” Yunho whispers, suddenly sliding you another full shot. “One more and I’ll accept your compensation.”

You shoot him a look of betrayal before glancing nervously down at the shot. While you managed to gather up the courage to take one shot, the thought of another makes your heart quicken.

If you get drunk, you could turn into him.

Bile rises up in the back of your throat, and you’re quick to swallow it back down.

What if you end up like him?

You snap out of your thoughts as Jongho nonchalantly slides the shot towards himself before tipping his head back and downing it, not saying a word. “Yah, be nice.” He scolds, his voice completely unaffected by the burn of alcohol.

“Pfft, what a tank,” somebody teases, but nobody protests his gentlemanly gesture.

You can only blink at him with wide doe eyes, completely caught off guard and undoubtedly relieved. He just casually shoots you a quick close-lipped smile before turning back to the table and starting up a chant, presumably the start of a drinking game.

——————

Korean drinking games are really fun, you’ve decided. You’ve thoroughly enjoyed watching everybody, even the stiff-postured Yoon Sohee, slowly unwind with each shot of alcohol, the sounds of giggling increasing every round of whatever game they’re playing.

Now it’s getting later, roughly 21:00, and while the managers all decided to opt out of the game (along with San, though the poor guy was forcibly removed from the game for his own sake), the members are all still competing. Your stomach happily digesting the good food and your mind buzzing from alcohol, you’ve quietly brought our knees to your chest, curled up in the booth with Yunho’s jacket draped back over your legs.

Jongho lets out a particularly loud shout of defeat, and you jump from the noise. Suddenly brought back to where you are, you glance around at everyone around the table—how members double over in unrestrained laughter and shouts of victory or defeat; how Hyerin is asleep next to Ara, who is somehow seemingly sober despite drinking more than most of the boys; how Dohyun-nim is smiling fondly at the sight of his boys having fun; how San is cuddling comfortably with Yeosang, who subtly plays with his hair to keep him calm.

But amidst the warmth, you also can’t help but notice everything else—the sharp clink of glasses on the table; how the booth sticks uncomfortably to your bare thighs whenever you try to shift in your seat; the air conditioning trained directly onto you, occasionally blowing your hair into your lipgloss; Yoon Sohee’s eyes unwavering as they bare into you from her seat with the other managers, unreadable. Even the giggles and playful banter between the members, the same ones which had been warming your chest all evening, suddenly feel too loud.

You jump yet again when Jongho rests a firm hand on your shoulder, flinching from the unexpected contact.

“Ah, sorry Y/N-ssi,” he whispers, dropping his hand back down to his lap. “Are you alright?”

You shake your head at his apology, plastering on a small smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just a little hot in here…I think I’m gonna go step out to get some fresh air.”

He nods, not calling you out on the fact that you’re literally right under the air conditioning and obviously using Yunho’s coat for warmth. “Okay. Do you want me to come with you?”

He’s too precious. “That’s alright, Jongho-yah,” you reassure him, not even realizing you switched to informal speaking. “I’ll be right back.”

He nods, letting you out of the booth and gesturing toward the back door to the secluded patio. “Let me know if you need anything, Noona.”

——————

The chill of the winter night cuts through you like a knife, and you welcome the feeling, taking a deep inhale of the fresh air. You take a seat on the edge of the downward staircase, taking in the view of the city lights. You push your hair back out of your face, failing to suppress your frustration when it disobediently falls back down. You groan, unnecessarily peeved.

God, Y/N. You really are stupid.

It’s the second time today you’ve thought that very thing, and you sigh bitterly, deciding it must be true.

You squeeze your eyes shut, curling up forward into yourself and clinging onto the thick borrowed coat. You run your fingers over the fabric, breathing deeply to steady your poor heart.

You don’t move at the soft thumps of footsteps approaching. Nor do you sit up when a tall, warm presence settles beside you on the top step, letting out a short hum to tell you that he’s there.

“…Hey, Yunho-yah.”

“Hey.”

You finally sit up, your expression failing to hide your tiredness. “…Sorry for leaving you guys without saying anything. I just got a bit warm.”

He shakes his head, his eyes understanding. “No need to be sorry. It’s understandable to get overwhelmed—we’re a chaotic bunch.”

Your gaze flicks between his warm eyes and easy smile, surprised he could read you so easily. You swallow and glance down, eyes landing on his coat. “Oh—I should probably return this, huh?”

He laughs quietly. “We’ll be working together for a long time, so return it another day.” You part your lips to protest, but he shakes his head. “No. Right now you need it more than I do. Keep it.”

You’re temporarily stunned, but hesitantly nod, hugging it to your chest again. “Thank you.” He simply hums, and the two of you fall into a temporary silence.

After a moment, he glances back over at you, eyes training on the way you’re hugging the jacket instead of using it to cover your shivering legs. “Y/N-ah, why…” He stops himself. “Are you cold?”

You bite your lip. “Yeah. But I really like the feeling of this jacket.” His eyes flick to your fingers, which are slowly stroking the soft, tactile fabric.

He nods slowly, thinking to himself. He isn’t sure if it’s the alcohol buzzing through his system that’s making him bold or his quiet concern overturning his logic, but he lowers his voice to a quiet murmur. “Hm… then would you let me warm your legs a little bit?”

You tilt your head at him, and he rubs his hands together, warming them in silent explanation. You can’t stop your cheeks from flushing, stumbling over your words. “Y-you would do that?”

He nods, his face innocent and genuine, though not overbearingly so. Experimentally, he lowers his hand to rest on your knee, slow as if petting a scared puppy. It’s exactly what you needed, though, as you don’t flinch at the touch, relaxing at how predictable he is. He watches you closely for any signs of discomfort, and, sensing none, he begins rubbing slow patterns up and down your thigh, careful to keep his placement respectful. You shiver pleasantly at the warmth, closing your eyes and releasing a content sigh.

If you were to look over at him, you would’ve seen the pink blush staining his own cheeks, gentle eyes darting around to look anywhere but you.

The silence lingers, but it’s not uncomfortable—just the kind that lingers between two people who don’t feel the need to fill it. The warmth of Yunho’s hand, the muffled laughter through the door, the pleasing texture of the coat held tight to your chest—it’s enough to bring you back to where you are.

But then he exhales, slow and soft. “We should probably head back soon. I think they’re wrapping up.”

You nod, pouting when he removes his hand and stands up, instead reaching it out to you to help you up. You take it gratefully, groaning from your achy knees.

He chuckles. “You okay now, saseum?”

You nod, smiling warmly up at him. “Yeah, much better.” You pause. “Saseum?”

His neck, warm from alcohol, gets impossibly redder. “Ah, sorry. I must be drunk.” He laughs. “That’s what Jongho-yah has been calling you—he said you look like an amsaseum."

You don’t know what the word means—a new one to add to your vocabulary—but you nod your head anyway. “Thank you for your company, Yunho-yah.” You flash a pretty, wobbly smile up to him. “You’re very sweet.”

He swallows, too flustered to dwell on it as he starts walking you back to the glowing door. “Anytime.”

——————

As Yunho suspected, the dinner wrapped up pretty quickly after you returned. Too tired to stay, you wished them all well, thanked them for the dinner, and left before them.

Now halfway through your walk home, you thank the universe that you weren’t forced to drink a lot—that would’ve made this trek way more difficult. Between general tiredness, the sleepiness that comes par for the course with pleasant tipsiness, the dimly lit streets, and the icy chill of the night air, you don’t think the added handicap of drunkenness would be a good sign.

Wrapped in Yunho’s coat, (which you’ve noticed now that you’re away from alcohol, smells like a pleasant combination of spices from whatever cologne he must wear), you hurry home, paranoid from the darkness and too cold to savor the walk. It only takes you ten minutes to get back inside your apartment, kicking off your shoes and shrugging off the comically oversized jacket, hanging it by the door.

It takes you less than fifteen minutes to hop in the shower, take off your makeup, brush your teeth, and plop onto the bed in fresh pajamas (which is really just a baggy t-shirt, because who the hell can afford pajamas?). It’s only then when the events of the night hit you.

Despite your little moment towards the end of the night, you had a fantastic couple of hours. You ate good food, talked and laughed with a bunch of ridiculously good-looking men, exchanged numbers with a few of your new coworkers (most of which also happen to fall under the category of ridiculously good-looking men), and all the while managed to stay mostly sober.

Even during your little break outside, it wasn’t all too bad. It could’ve been, of course—most of the time, your episodes of overwhelmedness last much longer and leave you much worse off—but this time you had Yunho there with you.

Yunho.

You turn your head, finally able to let out a little squeal. Is he even real? Tall, handsome, AND one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met?

And is he fucking insane? Who in their right mind lends their jacket and sensually rubs their hands over a girl's thighs knowing they look like THAT? How could a girl NOT panic?

You huff into your pillow. It’s been a while since a man has been able to make you feel like a teenager with a crush.

Saseum.

Oh right, that word.

You roll over onto your side and open your phone, pulling up your translating app. “Damn my language skills…” you sigh, trying to type it in with your poor knowledge of Korean characters.

‘사슴’

Reading the translation once again, your ears turn red.

‘Deer.’

——————

EXTRA—

The quiet rush of the road is the loudest sound in Dohyun-nim’s car, half of the Ateez members whispering amongst themselves in the backseat, the other four hitching a ride with Ara-nim. Hongjoong sits in the passenger seat, busy doing something on his phone. Meanwhile, Yunho and Wooyoung sit in the back with a passed-out San, who sleeps with his mouth agape between the two. It’s quiet for a while, all of the most riled-up members of the evening exiled to the ‘loud car’—until Yunho, a little drunk, breaks the silence.

“I really like her.”

Hongjoong chokes suddenly, whipping his head around to look at him with shock. Wooyoung shakes his head.

“No, no, Joongie-hyung. Don’t act like you weren’t also crushing over her after you first met.”

Hongjoong immediately shuts his mouth, effectively silenced. He turns back around in his seat.

Wooyoung giggles proudly, turning his attention back to the big puppy of a man next to him. “I like her too. She’s adorable, isn’t she?”

“She is.” He pauses. “You should’ve seen the way she smiled at me.”

UYT Taglist: @obsessed-withthe-stressed @psychosupernatural @ateezswonderland @herpoetryprincess @nkryuki @thuyting @rosegracewood09 @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @queenofdumbfuckery @bbokarismeow @vtyb23 @soso59love-blog @mira-inlove @lover-ofallthingspretty

This Fic belongs to @frflyavenue and nobody else—please do not steal this work or any other works by this author <3

Chapter 4: In progress

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drfleetflower · 2 months ago

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HG Scenario: Love Languages

~Requested~

Pairings: Coriolanus Snow, Tigris Snow, Sejanus Plinth, Casca Highbottom, Peeta Mellark, Finnick Odair, Gale Hawthorne, Haymitch Abernathy x Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, addiction, trauma

WC: 2.1k

Coriolanus Snow:

Coriolanus Snow is not a very affectionate man, but he shows his love in subtle ways. His love language is ‘acts of service’. So, of course he’s very gentlemanly. Afterall, he was nicknamed ‘Gent’ a while back. He opens doors for you, gives you his arm when walking up stairs, your meals are always prepared for you, your bed is always made, really anything you need done is done for you. Maybe these things aren’t always done by him, but he orchestrates them without you having to lift a finger. That is, unless you have a task you want to do.

So, a moment like this is rare. Coriolanus is sitting in a royal red, tall and embroidered chair. He holds a book in his hands, reading aloud to you as you stand behind him. Your hands rest on his shoulders, massaging out the stress after a long day. A deep warmth bathes the two of you, emitting from the crackling fire in the fireplace. He occasionally pauses to sigh or take one of your hands, kissing it softly.

Coriolanus is scarcely away from his office or the public, so this intimate instance is one you don’t take for granted. You listen intently to his smooth, controlled voice and rest your cheek against your intertwined hands. After each chapter he asks you questions and the two of you discuss different aspects of the story. He often just gives you his opinions and you agree, although when you do weigh in with your own ideas, he brightens and challenges you whether or not he agrees. You can’t help but be enraptured by him when he gets deep into a discussion and feels secure enough to share his feelings with you.

Tigris Snow:

Tigris Snow is constantly giving. Whether that means giving time, attention, and care to her loved ones, or physical things like gifts, it doesn’t matter. She gives and gives. Especially to you; her most loved one. She spends most of her time hunched over a sewing machine and design book. And, a lot of that effort goes into making special things for you.

You take every stitch to heart, and can’t help but be blown away by how she spoils you. Constantly Tigris suddenly showers you with new clothes, clothes she could easily sell for a pretty penny. Instead, she’s made them especially for you and it’s hard for you to figure out how to repay the kindness, how to show her that she means just as much to you and you do to her. So, you hone in on your craft. You take time and care to make her something just as special as the magic she has crafted for you.

When you find the right time, you set a fine occasion and gift it to her. The act, so simple and so underwhelming in your eyes, brings tears to hers. She embraces you and thanks you perhaps too many times, making you wish you thanked her more. You embrace her right back and share a tender kiss. You feel grateful, fulfilled that you had done your job. You made her feel seen and special and appreciated, the way she deserves to feel. And so, you spend the evening in each other's arms admiring each other.

Sejanus Plinth:

Sejanus Plinth is burdened. He tends to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, worrying about the state of the districts and constantly wracking his brain for ways to fix what is tremendously broken. So, you’ve adopted the job of consoling him. Many nights he lies awake ranting about the injustices that run rampant across Panem and you lie next to him and stroke his head, running your fingers through his curly hair. You coo words of encouragement and try your best to settle him down by acknowledging the hard work he’s already done. Still, the cycle continues.

There is some improvement though. You can tell that Sejanus has become happier, at least, as happy as one can be under the conditions. And, once you realize just how much he lights up when you compliment him, you make it a point to motivate him even outside of those late nights. He returns the gesture.

You didn’t notice it at the start of your relationship, but Sejanus is big on complimenting you, too. It doesn’t matter the time or occasion, Sejanus finds a way to weave in a ‘you look wonderful today, my love’ or ‘what a great idea, you’re amazing’, and the like. Clearly, he’s a ‘words of affirmation’ type. So, you tend to his love language and the two of you sometimes have mini competitions of who can compliment the other the most.

Casca Highbottom:

Casca Highbottom doesn’t ask for much. He is content as long as you are near, present with him. Why you would waste your time on him, a depressed addict, he doesn’t know. But, he refuses to question it, and selfishly he chalks it up to luck so you’ll stick around. You don’t have to do anything together, really. Usually, the two of you just sit around doing absolutely nothing, simply being with each other. Other times, the two of you talk for hours about everything and nothing.

He will share his worries with you, his guilt about his role in the Hunger Games. Most of the time though, he avoids the subject, preferring to spend the coveted time he has with you discussing more pleasant matters.

Some days, Casca might be at his desk grading papers while you sit in a leather chair by the fire, telling him about your day. He hums in response, laughing at your quips, and chimes in with a remark when he has one. You always ask about his day in return, and he’ll sigh and usually give the same old, same old, his red pen making slashes on test questions. You wait up for him to finish his grading, and when he’s done, he’ll come over and give your shoulders a light squeeze before the two of you curl up in bed together.

Peeta Mellark:

Peeta Mellark is a very affectionate person. He has no trouble expressing his feelings to you, but prefers to do so without words. Words can get complicated, and when it comes to you, sometimes he can’t decipher the cues you’re giving him. So, physical cues are a safer bet.

When the two of you got together, Peeta hadn’t the slightest clue that you reciprocated feelings for him until you kissed him. It surprised the both of you. But, from then on you knew you’d have to be more direct in your approach to romance and such. For example, you don’t shy away from holding his hand, or cuddling with him, or kissing his cheek. He won’t always make the first move, so you just take the initiative when you want to instead of waiting for him to get the hint.

The moments that the two of you cherish the most are when you’re wrapped up in each other's arms. You lie on the couch or your bed, holding each other, Peeta kissing your head. You can watch television or read a book, or sometimes just do nothing. You could take the time to talk about your days but a lot of the time, the two of you like the silence, simply focusing on the feeling of each other being so close and warm. Obviously, this time together is best in the cold months.

Finnick Odair:

Finnick Odair exudes love and affection. He truly understands and appreciates every language of love, but he is inclined toward gift giving. He makes knots almost all day, everyday, so he’s bound to make a few things for you. And, practically anything you give him he automatically treasures. He is honestly a bit of a hoarder with how many keepsakes and sentimental items he has displayed. There’s overlap that he has to keep in storage too.

What he likes about physical pieces, is he can keep them with him when you can’t be near. He can weave a shell you gave him into a necklace or bracelet and always have it on his person. And Finnick loves it when you wear the things he gives you, it’s as if you’re showing him off and tying yourself to him. He also appreciates the time, care, and effort that are put into the gifts you give each other. Although weaving comes easy to him, it can still be tedious and time consuming. And, you are simply astonished by what he can do with nothing but a strand. Even if you have so many pieces of braided jewelry you couldn’t possibly name each one.

Sometimes, Finnick even adds a little note. A one-liner usually, something like ‘I love you more than the moon loves the ocean.’ You can’t help but make him read each one to you, too. His voice is always so calming when he’s telling you how much he loves you. Also, in general, but especially then.

Gale Hawthorne:

Gale Hawthorne isn’t great at expressing himself. Not in the sense that he won’t talk to you about his emotions, but more so on how he goes about it. Of course, when you first met, he wasn’t much of a talker at all. Now that the two of you are close though, he doesn’t shy away from sharing his feelings. You love this about him, that he has become unashamed around you, that he feels so safe with you he will tell you any thought that pops into his head. Unfortunately, in the midst of being so honest with you, he can get blinded by what is perhaps too honest. Or, let his emotions get the better of him.

This is why his love language is physical touch. First of all, the two of you have kind of evolved to communicate without words anyway. Secondly, it makes so much more sense to him to put his hand over yours than say ‘it’s alright’. Because sometimes it isn’t. And thirdly, Gale gets much more satisfaction from a kiss than anything else. He would happily live as an Avoxe if your tender touch was on line. Although, some kisses would be less exciting without his tongue.

He is big on quality time too, but he does request to have his hands on you in one way or another. Gale wants a family some day, so when the two of you are in the Meadow, his hand subconsciously rubbing your back as you tell his younger siblings a story that finally starts to settle them down… He swears his heart beats a mile a minute.

Haymitch Abernathy:

Haymitch Abernathy is still in shock by the simple fact that you like him. Let alone love. And perhaps even more shocking than that is: he loves you too. He’s tortured by guilt though. Tortured in general, really, so he pushes you away. He refuses to admit anything but disdain for you until you break down crying, screaming at him that you love him. He lets you hug him and he comforts you, realizing you are not giving up and if he continues hurting you it might just kill him too.

So, when he reluctantly accepts your love and affection, he goes along with whatever you want. You kind of have to force him to help you help him and tell you what it is he wants. You learn that Haymitch wants security. Not a security system, although it’s doubtful he’d be opposed, but a feeling of calm. A guarantee that everything will turn out right. That guarantee doesn’t exist, but you try your best. You learn that he goes crazy when he doesn’t know where you are, so you tend to stay close to him and when you aren’t, he always knows where you are. Also, you make sure that he’s somewhat distracted, like having Katniss, Peeta, and the kids come over when you’re away.

Everyday can come as a challenge, a welcome one of course, but still a challenge. Trauma like Haymitch went through is no easy feat. But, little by little, it gets easier. And you start to have more good days than bad. He lets you help take care of his geese, he’s protective of them but he is of you, too. Maybe the little birds picked up on that, because they follow you too now.

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zivazivc · 7 months ago

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Say hello to my bug eyed baby boy 🐛👀👶

He was in an egg since September but about a week ago he finally hatched! 😊😅 jk jk but it did take me this long to finish this plushie of baby Leslie that I can hold close and snuggle. 🥰🧡

In the last few days I took him out with me so he could explore the woods for the first time, and so I could take some photos of him for you guys (and me lol).

No I could not trim this photo set even more, do you have any idea how many photos I took?? and he's precious in all of them. 🥺

I don't have a sewing machine or any other special equipment so he's entirely handmade with a pattern I made myself by trial and error, but I did use two of my plush toys as reference to study how they're stitched together.

I was pretty limited with my material choice because I had to find everything in Leslie's colors or at least the closest I could get to his colors, and I've realized that they're not very popular colors. His hair sadly ended up being the most off, but I'm still happy with it.

His body is something like sweatshirt fleece but the fabric being turned the wrong way so that the soft fuzzy side is on the outside. But I had no luck trying to find sherpa fleece fabric that would fit his coat colors so his fur is all embroidered using a stitch called turkey work.

And his lil pickle dreads are made with the same technique as friendship bracelets, just that they loop around. I've made so many friendship bracelets in my time that this wasn't hard to figure out how to do lol. And in the end I also sewed shiny pearls onto them to act as sparkles, since I'm not a fan of glitter or sequins. 😅

And lastly his hair is made out of genuine hand dyed sheep locks! Wondering how to tackle the hair gave me the most trouble. I was thinking of sewing it together out of fabric, or tying together fluffy yarn in the style of macramé and other ideas I can't recall anymore, but either the idea didn't sound good enough or I wasn't able to find the right material to try to pull it off. In the end I stumbled on sheep locks kind of on accident while browsing etsy and the idea was just too tempting. They're the only part of him that I ordered online and I was really worried it wasn't going to be what I needed, or that I won't like the color once I see it irl, won't like the feel, etc. But I'm super happy with how it came out in the end. Yes it's much lighter in color and now he's curly, but I think it really suits him, and it feels soft like actual hair. 🥰

Some details from up close:

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swordsandholly · 1 year ago

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def need more ditzy reader with mechanic 141- the only thing that tops my love for military men is blue collar boys <333

make sure to take care of yourself tho lovie!! don’t burn urself out :))

I for sure want to write more of her. Hopefully after this insane week at work I’ll be able to really sit down and crank out some writing. For now I’m battling my way through Ch 3 of Across the Way

But pls enjoy this little not proofread experimental snippet I wrote for ditzy reader

“Look.” Your landlord sighs loudly. Like you’re the one inconveniencing him. “I’ll send someone out.”

“That’s what you said two days ago! And three days before that!” You stomp your foot at no one just to get some of the anger out.

“I’ll get to it when I get to it.”

“Why can’t you-“ The line cuts before you can finish. The jerk hung up on you! What the hell!

You pout, plopping down into your desk chair and sighing. What are you supposed to do? You’re not allowed to call a handyman according to the lease and you don’t have a boyfriend right now. You can’t keep washing pans in the bathroom. It’s gross.

You huff.

“Alright?” Simon asks and you whirl in your chair. How does he walk so quietly?

“Yeah…” You pout harder under his steady gaze, slipping down further into the chair.

“You’re a terrible liar, luv.” His eyes crinkle in corners with a smile.

“Well…” You shrug, twiddling your thumbs in your lap. “My kitchen sink has been broken for a whole week and the landlord won’t do anything about it! I called and called and he just keeps saying he’ll send someone and then doesn’t!” Your voice pitches at the end, real annoyance bleeding through into the edges of your words. You fist your hands in your skirt.

“That’s all?” He raises an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you just ask one of us?”

You blink twice, staring up at him. Your face heats and you look away bashfully - not wanting to admit you didn’t think to ask for their help. Stupid. “I don’t want to be a bother…”

“I’ll come by after work.”

“You don’t have to-“

“I’ll be there.” He nods before marching back into the garage. You just blink after him as he goes.

True to his word, Simon shows up at your door with a massive tool box in hand. Really, he still can’t believe you live in such a shit complex. Price pays you well enough. The locks might as well be paper-mache. Simon lowers his mask before knocking. He trusts you with his face - hell you probably forget it every time you look away - but he also wants you to trust him too. For whatever reason.

You’re staring when you open the door. Big doe eyes looking up at him and blinking slowly. He wonders what goes on behind those blank eyes of yours - if it’s nothing at all or such a chaotic dialogue that you can’t process it enough to pay attention.

All or nothing.

“Gonna let me in, doll?” He asks. You startle, not realizing how intensely you zoned out.

“Oh! Yes!” You jump out of the way, letting him into your small studio apartment. Every time he thinks your shorts can’t get smaller he’s proven wrong.

Simon takes a look around, huffing at the net full of stuffies hanging on the wall. Everything about your home is soft - soft colors, soft fabrics. It smells like vanilla, just like you always do when you come into the shop. His eyes lock briefly on a well-loved sewing machine covered in stickers with a project still under the needle. You must have been working on it before he got here.

Did you mean to leave your bra hanging on the back of that chair right by the kitchen? Lacy and lilac. He’ll have to remember that for some other time. Maybe your birthday.

“Let’s ‘ave a look.” He sighs, knees popping as he crouches in front of the sink. It’s a fucking mess, that’s for sure. At least you figured out how to turn the water off.

“Pipe’s busted.” He says. “I can seal it but it’ll take a sec.”

“Okay.” You murmur.

Simon sighs as he turns onto his back to get a better look. He doesn’t miss the way you stare blatantly at his midsection as his shirt rides up. He might adjust some to expose just a bit more.

You really are the least subtle thing in the planet, aren’t you?

“Can you come hold the light f’me, luv?” He points to the toolbox.

“This one?” You ask, as if it isn’t the only flashlight in the box.

“Yeah.”

“Like this?”

“Yup.” At first he expects you to sit silently so he can concentrate, but he quickly realizes that was far too presumptuous.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Si?” You ask quietly.

He huffs. “No.”

“Oh.” You chew your lip. “You seem like the kind of guy that would.”

Simon has never heard a bigger misread in his damn life but he’ll take it as a compliment, he supposes. “Why do you ask?”

“Cause this is boyfriend work and you’re good at it.”

Simon tries to see your logic - he really does - but he just has no clue how those things are even remotely related. Sure, guys fix things for their girlfriends but calling it ‘boyfriend work’ when anybody with two cents could do it is a bit silly. More than, if he’s honest. He just grunts in response, at a total loss for how to respond.

Simon looks down at you. The way you kneel as your cleaving spills out of your tiny tank top - one of many you insist on wearing so often. He can give into temptation just a little bit, right? “Gonna need you to get closer, doll.”

“Oh!” You scoot forward until your knees brush his side. So ready to listen. Cute.

“Can you lean in a bit?”

“Like this?” You lean forward, chest pressing against him while your hand splays over his midsection for balance. Fucking hell.

“Perfect. Good girl.”

It’s bold and a bit uncoordinated even for him. Something Johnny would try. The purposeful choice of words seems to go right over your head. Instead you blush and smile, shifting your hips just a bit. Your chest pushes further into him. So soft.

Fuck.

You’ll be the death of him. Thank god you’re too unobservant to notice that he’s rock fucking hard.

He’s already done with the sink by the time of this little exchange, but he pretends to tighten some useless bolts anyway just to keep you against him a little longer before shooing you away. It’s cute, the way you scramble to get out of the way. Simon turns the water back on before standing, and gesturing toward the sink.

“Give it a try, luv.”

A little furrow forms in your brow as you step forward to turn it on, crouching and standing to make sure the leak has stopped. You turn the faucet off and whip your head around with a grin.

He’s pretty sure you burst an eardrum with the pitch of the squeal you let out, bouncing over and tightly wrapping your arms around his waist. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

“It’s no pro-“ he cuts off as you push up onto your tip toes and press a kiss to his cheek. He can’t help but bark out a laugh. Little minx.

“Oh, I got some lipstick-“ You reach up to smudge it off but he bats your hand away. He’ll wear it back to the garage and show off the kiss he got. Johnny’s going to absolutely fume.

#answered #simon ghost riley #call of duty #ghost cod #cod x reader #ghost x reader #cod #simon x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #fem reader #mechanic au

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fridgemissionmaster · 2 months ago

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Beelzebub x Reader ft.rest of the bros: March Prompt/Day 26

Prompt list/available prompt requests here, making a fic everyday of march

“Are you sure?”

“I mean, yeah. Pretty much just scraps at this point. Maybe Mammon or Asmo can help me find a replacement.” With that you dropped the torn fabric into the emptied recycling bin, shivering a little as you walked away. “Besides, it’s going to warm up soon anyway.” Beel didn’t like that… strained tone in your voice.

…

Beelzebub slipped the scraps into his pocket before draping his jacket over you, those sleeves dragging against the ground, the garment more of the cloak on you. “You don’t have too!”

“I’m fine.” He adjusted it a little to make sure it wouldn’t slip off your little human frame.

Unfortunately human clothing was much less durable than demon’s. Most of your wardrobe were things from here but you still had the occasional item from home. One had to be careful though as the daily chaos of Devildom life would destroy any human garments easily. At least you didn’t get hurt but…

Carefully Beel hand washed the thing in the sink, it was so thin at parts Beel worried it’d just disintegrate in the washing machine. But then what? It wasn’t like there was enough fabric left to make you a new jacket let alone repair it.

Actually…

“Levi, how do you repair clothing?”

“You uh… find…” That tap, tap, tapping came to an abrupt stop just as the music did, a pause menu now displayed on the handheld. Utterly baffled the third born looked over his shoulder. “Beel!?”

Beelzebub held out the scraps to his older brother. “… What’s this?”

“What’s left of MC’s favorite jacket.”

“Hmm.” Levi scrutinized the bits of fabric trying to figure out some way to put his baby brother down gently. “I don’t…”

“I thought so.”

“OH! Well, then, Good.” And with that Levi turned back to his game.

… Was there really nothing he could do? But if even Levi didn’t think anything could be done, then it was impossible. Maybe Barbatos could help? Didn’t he sew an outfit for you once? Could he know a way? Even then, Beel had seen Levi make so many extravagant outfits, and he certainly couldn’t count how many times he gave Levi one of his jerseys to repair only for it to be given back good as new, so if he couldn’t surely no one could. Besides then Levi had a whole shirt to work with not… this.

“FINE!”

“Huh?”

“We’re going to my room.” With that Levi began stomping off. “I swear, you and Belphie and your puppy eyes.” But Levi only glanced at his face for a moment, focusing on the fabric before. Did he have an odd expression?

Beelzebub stood by the door while Levi got a big fold out table from behind some shelving, setting it up, before patting his hands on it. “Come on. I need to know what we’re working with here.”

“…”

It was almost sad to look at.

“Is this it?”

“Yeah.”

Levi studied the thing in dismay.

“What are we all doing here?”

“GAH! Get out party animals! You have to say the password!”

“Excuse me, you left the door wide open!”

Asmodeus and Mammon easily slipped past Levi, immediately making their way for the out of place table.

Levi sighed realizing the pair wouldn’t leave any time soon.

“Some scrap?”

“Oi, that’s MC’s jacket.” Everyone glanced to Mammon about to question how he could recognize it in this state but then remembered the word ‘privacy’ didn’t exist in his vocabulary when it came to you. Beel had even seen him snooping through your stuff for the hell of it.

“It got wreaked yesterday.” The intruders nodded, recalling the tales they were told of it at dinner the night before.

“Well, what are you going to do with it?” Asmo pinched at a corner before lifting it up to get a better look.

“I want to repair it.”

Beel didn’t much care for the pitiful look Mammon gave him. “Eh? You might as well be startin’ from scratch.”

“Mammon, hush!” Asmo smacked the back of his hand against Mammon face and kept it there, seemed he didn’t like that look either. Not enough force to leave a mark or even hurt probably, but enough for an audible fwap sound.

“EY!”

“It’s sweet.” Placing the fabric down he started talking with his hands as perusual. “Besides, did you see that yukata he made for MC? You still need to make me one! It’s gorgeous!”

Beel grumbled at the fabric. “I couldn’t make it again even if I wanted too. I didn’t write down any instructions.” He could repair it if needed.

“Come on, you at least have the pattern pieces left, right? We can just adjust them to my size.”

“No.”

“But Beel-”

“I don’t know what pattern pieces are, so I can’t even if I wanted. And I don’t.”

…

“Why are you staring at me?” His older brothers looked between one another, having some silent conversation before Levi scurried off, placing some big paper on the table, while Mammon immediately began to scribble on it.

Asmo placed his hands on Beelzebub’s shoulders, a deathly serious look in his eyes. “You didn’t use any patterns?”

“Uh? No?”

“You didn’t draw out the pieces and then cut them out?”

“No? Mc did that to make my yukata, but we didn’t have much paper so I let them use it.”

“YOU FREE HAND THE ENTIRE THING AND IT TURNED OUT LIKE THAT!?”

“I-”

“WHY HAVE YOU BEEN KEEPING YOUR DESIGN AND SEWING SKILLS SECRET FROM ME BEEL!”

Levi and Mammon had cut out one of the things Mammon drew, shoving their way past Asmo to hold it right up to his face. “Ya didn’t do anythin’ like this before cutting out your fabric?”

Beel just shook his head, words getting lost as he only got more and more confused by his brothers beginning to freak out and question him all at once. You did that to make a guide for what to cut but for Beel, trying to keep the paper and fabric in place while cutting was a bit much so he just went without and trimmed when he needed.

“I guess I can’t freehand MC’s jacket though.” It wouldn’t be your exact jacket but his own thing then.

“Uh duh. Here, just let me…” And so Mammon went scribbling away again. Beel really should have been surprised at how Mammon had even the details of your favorite clothing memorized, down to the individual parts that made them, but he couldn’t be. It was Mammon after all, the man was terrifyingly skilled.

“Oh, I know!” Asmo took one of the smaller scraps. “We need kamillion fabric!”

“Wh-” Asmo pinched Beel’s cheek, looking all too giddy.

“It’s a fabric that will turn into an exact copy of whatever material you press into it, and once you do that it won’t change, so we can get plenty of new material!” And off Asmo was, his heels clacking away as he went.

“Here, cut these out.”

“Oh-okay.” Beel had to admit it was impressive Mammon could already be done with some parts and how he drew such straight lines.

“Later, I need to show him my sewing machine.” Levi grabbed his arm, dragging Beel away to the opposite side of the table. Seemed Mammon didn’t hear, passing another sheet to where Beelzebub was.

“So, we’ll skip the basics and go straight about the special features.” Levi pointed to the machine excitedly, already beginning to ramble.

“Wait, I don’t know how to use this.”

“…” He… just started. Unblinking. “No… Beel, you didn’t use a sewing machine EITHER!?”

“Well… no. We didn’t have one to use when we made our yukatas.”

“… NO WONDER YOU TWO KEPT WORKING NONSTOP ALL DAY AND NIGHT! Beel. Okay, I’ll get us some scraps so I can teach you. Trust me you’ll love this, it’ll make everything so much faster!”

Well, he was going to have to wait on the fabric anyway. It did get a bit annoying with both Levi and eventually Mammon hovering over his shoulders and arguing about what kind of stitching would be better in certain situations, but he did learn a lot from the both of them.

“I’m surprised though…” Mammon draped an arm over the redhead’s shoulders, leaning in to get a closer look at his work. “Yer picking all this up so quickly. You used to be- uh… struggle with this more fiddly stuff. What got ya interested?”

…

“Wasn’t it when Belphie made that plush for him?”

“Oh yeah. He made one for Belphie after that.”

“Then it was the yukatas him and MC made for each other.”

“Still though, between then and now he’s improved a lot!”

“I know, and now he even designed our outfits for the parade!”

“Look at our baby bro growing up!”

“Gross Mammon.”

“Eh!? What’s so wrong about prasin’ my little brothers!?”

… there was just something nice about it. It felt good. For the yukatas you taught him a lot, you got some good tips from Barbatos when sewing that Devilcat plush for him that you shared. He did a couple of little things since the yukatas like drawstrings bags or trying to repair his jerseys himself. He couldn’t be sure why but something in him was just drawn to this. It felt soothing in a way. It was also nice to use things that you taught him, to repeat it, to memorize it, to make it part of himself.

It would take a couple of days for the fabric to get shipped so Beel used the time to get other fabrics he’d need that he couldn’t get the original parts of like the inside lining of the pockets.

“Hey, Beel.” Satan strolled a bit closer than he normally would with anyone but you. Said you was at the front of your group, excited to get home and warm up after classes.

“Yeah?” Beelzebub matched his brother’s hushed tone.

“Tell me when your package gets here.”

“My what?”

“The… supplies.”

“Uhh... Oh, you mean the fabric?”

The fourth born quirked a brow before maintaining the distance he usually would, although his voice stayed low. “So it’s not a surprise?”

“… huh?”

He shook his head. “Anyway, tell me when it arrives. You’re using kamillion fabric, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then it will be just as weak as before. I know a few spells that can make it as tough as Devildom fabric.”

“Thank you!” Beelzebub hadn’t even thought of that. Although… who told Satan about this project? It wasn’t a secret, exactly, Beelzebub hadn’t quite been open about this though either. In a way he didn’t want you to know. You surprised him with the Devilcat so it would be nice to surprise you with something.

In the planning Beel did overlook one thing. It was Fangol season so most days after school had to be spent out on the field. So instead after Lucifer had finished his bedtime check-up Beelzebub would get back up. On the loft was where he’d place the table, light, and sewing machine. He hoped the distance would make it less disruptive to Belphegor.

And yet every night a few minuets after he began work he’d hear a yawn come from the winding staircase. Belphie would trot up, pillow in hand before sitting on the floor beside him and rest his head on Beel’s lap. The company was nice. Usually he’d immediately fall asleep but sometimes he’d try staying up, ask Beel what part he was working on or what exactly he was doing, it also helped Beel stay up on nights where practice hit hard and all his battered body wanted to do was collapse in bed.

Nice soft bed…

… so warm

…. And

Comfy

…

A groan rumbled in his throat, his neck killing him. Slowly he sat up, his body stuttering and creaking from the movement. Arched back, hands up high he stretched, a yawn escaping him. He couldn’t help smiling feeling that weight on his lap and getting that familiar yawn in reply. “Morning Belphie.”

“Morning Beel.”

“Morning you two.”

Immediately Beel’s eyes shot open being greeted to the worst sight. Lucifer stood across the table, arms crossed, a glowering stare. His every step was noted with the soft thud of his shoes against the wood floor. His eyes flickered up and down the pair, clearly not pleased with the sight. “Well, get ready. You’re going to be late.”

A couple of quick nods and Beel practically bolted out of the chair with his twin in his arms.

“Wait… Lucifer, we don’t have classes today.” The man simply sighed, the distinct click of the lamp being turned off before, following him down the stairs, your jacket in hand.

“You have practice.” The jacket was placed on the railing before he reached out and…

And placed his hands on Beelzebub’s cheeks?

“Wha-” Squished, stretched, pulled, smushed Beelzebub was left baffled at Lucifer playing with his face like that!

“There, now there’s color in your cheeks and you won’t worry them by looking so sickly.”

…

“… Heh, thank you!” And so Beel was off. He had to give you your jacket before practice, you were going to be watching today after all!

You stood by the door, giving him a little smile in greeting before your eyes were drawn to the garment he held. He simply placed it on your shoulders before holding the door open for you, leaving you baffled, looking to your jacket all the while everyone else piled on one another, peeking around the corner, some filming, some giving a thumbs up, some trying to act like they didn’t care yet still stood there watching anyway.

“I hope you like it.” You held the thing close for a moment, rolling some of the fabric between your fingers.

“I- what? How?”

“I got help making it. Is it… like your old one?”

“… Even better.” Good, you smiled.

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yellowjacketsfashion · 8 months ago

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While there are lots of options as to where you can buy a replica of the Yellowjackets Letterman Jacket, they’re not always easily attainable. Last year for halloween I made my own letterman and I figured others could find my process helpful. (The supplies I used were things I already had or were accessible to me but there are other ways to create the same thing. If you have different materials that also work feel free to make suggestions or use them in your process).

HOW TO MAKE A YELLOWJACKETS LETTERMAN JACKET:

Supplies:

• Gold/Navy Letterman jacket

• Printer

• White Printer paper

• Gold Felt

•Chalk

• Heat ‘n Bond

• Embroidery floss in the colors White, Black, Gold and Gray (I ended up needing two packs of white).

• Embroidery needle

• White (or light colored) tissue paper

• White fabric (I used cotton)

• Embroidery hoop

• (Optional) White and Black thread

• Glue stick

Step 1: Aquire your jacket.

You can do a lot of different things for the plain base jacket. I bought mine off Amazon but if wanted too you could probably sew one or buy one second hand etc. The only specification is that it’s Gold and Navy. It is important to do this first because everything else builds off of this step.

Step 2: Print out designs.

Use the photos I provided below and paste them into a word document. From there you can size them up or down to reach the size that you like for printing. The “Yellowjackets” logo is for the back of the jacket so when I did it I kind of split the photo in half and put it on two different pages. In the end it turned out to be just shy of 13 inches length wise. The round patch goes on the front and mine was 4.25 inches in diameter.

Depending on the size of your jacket your patches can be bigger or smaller, but once your happy with the sizing you can then move onto the next step.

Step 3: Gather supplies.

The gold felt is to be used to create the back patch. Because of the size of mine I was able to get a little 50 cent sheet of it (I was able to place the logo at an angle to fit it) but because the patch sizes will be different it’s important to bring your print out of the logo when shopping to make sure you have enough. Most craft / fabric stores should have this in stock. It’s also a good idea to bring your letterman jacket with you to try to color match the shades of gold/yellow as best as possible.

The embroidery hoop, floss, white fabric, and thread are for the front patch as I hand embroidered mine but in theory you could use an embroidery machine or printable fabric sheets to create your patch. If you use these other methods you’ll need different supplies and different instructions that I can’t give.

The Heat ‘n Bond is to iron the patches onto your jacket so they stick (though I’ve had to re iron my back patch because the fibers of the wool make it hard to stick to). It will essentially act as double sided tape.

Step 4: Creating & attaching the back patch

• Cut out a piece of Heat n’ Bond that covers the area where your logo will go.

(i am using colored paper in the example pictures. Yellow represents the felt. White represents the heat and Bond).

• Once you have the right sized piece of Heat n’ Bond, iron it onto the back of your piece of Gold felt (make sure to follow the instructions on the Heat n’ bond packaging).

•Use your printed template of the logo and cut out the words on the felt. You can cut out the logo on paper first and trace it or attach the paper to the felt and just cut them both at the same time. (I moved the dot on the J down so that it’s still attached just to make it easier but you can do whatever you want).

• Put on your Letterman and use the chalk to mark where on the back you want the patch to go. For this step it can be helpful to have someone else assist you (though it’s possible to do it yourself).

• Take off the jacket and lay it flat to align the patch up with your chalk markings. Once it is where you want it you can Iron it onto the back of the jacket (according to the instructions on the Heat n’ Bond).

You now have a finished back patch!

Step 5: Creating the front patch.

• Trace the design of the front patch onto tissue paper (I would suggest a dark pen or sharpie so you can see it really well). If you have trouble seeing the design underneath it can be helpful to hold it to a window pane when it’s sunny or another light source. The photo of the logo I included has a white border around the black words but the patch in the show doesn’t have it so I just ignored it. From there you glue the traced tissue paper onto the fabric.

• Cut out a piece of white fabric big enough for your embroidery hoop and glue the tissue paper sketch onto the fabric.

• Put the fabric/tissue paper into the Embroidery hoop.

• Thread the needle and start embroidering the design. I found it good to use different techniques on different areas of the patch (long white stitches on the wings versus short ones on the background etc. I also thought it was helpful to embroider in color groupings (so like white all at once or yellow all at once etc. so you don’t have to switch out the floss that much). Save the white outer circle and black outline for last though to help clean everything up. The white and black sewing thread can be used to outline smaller details or neaten up some of the floss.

• Once the patch is done cut out a piece of Heat n’ Bond that covers the back of the patch.

• Put on your jacket and mark with chalk where you want to put the patch. In the show it’s placed by the second from the top button. (See Jackie reference photo at the top of the post).

• Iron on the Heat n’ Bond to the back of the patch (following packet instructions).

• Iron the Patch to the jacket based on your chalk markings.

• You have completed the front patch!

Above are some photo examples of my jacket (please ignore my messy hair in the left picture, being in the snow got it ruffled up).

Sorry for the long post but I think I got everything covered. I hope you guys found this helpful but if you have any questions about the jacket, my process, or anything else feel free to ask!

#yellowjackets #fashion #costume #diy #jackie taylor #taissa turner #akilah yellowjackets #gen yellowjackets #shauna shipman #natalie scatorccio #van palmer

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furiousgoldfish · 11 months ago

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To all of you who are feeling behind on survival skills, worried you won't be able to succeed in life because you're not allowed to learn/not able to learn, I want you to know that some basics are extremely easy to get once you're able to try it on your own, or even just have one person explain it to you.

When I ran away from home, I didn't know how to cook, I wasn't allowed to learn, and first month or so, I was preoccupied with just learning how to cook. What I learned was that it was far more easy than my parents ever made it seem. If you're trying to cook just for proper nutrition and not make some fancy meals, most of what you have to do is heat the groceries, and salt them. If you cut up some vegetables and put them in water an add salt, you will have a soup. If you lay them on a tray and put them in the oven, you've made food. You can put stuff in a pan with some oil and stir it on heat and you have a meal. For basic eating, it can be really that simple. I also was able to pick stuff up just from my roommates, who would happily answer my questions, and a lot of people out there will happily explain to you how they make a certain food, and of course, there's video tutorials for specific meals, if you want to make something more complex. Once you have absolute freedom in the kitchen, you will pick this up rapidly.

I have never used a washing machine prior to running away, and then one person showed me once how to use one, and that was that. I was washing-machine certified after that. I gained extra knowledge about cleaning it on the internet, and some people randomly had tips for me about it. I learned to handwash later as well, and that works good too.

I've struggled at the beginning, to find easy and cheap ways to get stuff; the most common way to get things is to go to the store, but I didn't have a lot of money, and buying things was too expensive for me. I've since discovered just where to find the second-hand markets, how to get people to give me their old clothing so I never have to buy any, how to temper with stuff I have so I wouldn't have to buy anything, at this point I even know how to fix shoes and sew my own stuff. I've fixed blinds on almost every window in here, without even knowing how, I just dismantled everything and figured it out. I've put together closets and lamps. I've learned to open up my own laptop and change the parts inside, I've even changed the screen on my own, by watching a video on how it's done. I've learned how to repaint walls, how to tend to plants, how to maintain a living space. Often I'd see someone else who is able to do these things, and just ask. People who are not parents have no reason to gatekeep this information, and they proudly told me how they do it.

I've learned to organize my stuff to the point where I'm able to easily clean a big mess, and I don't get overwhelmed with things anymore. I've had to do some reading on the internet to figure out the situation with finances and economy, and I also asked some people, got wildly different answers from every person. When I have the opportunity to chat with someone who has a specific job, I ask them about what they do, and have them describe to me how that field of work functions. It gave me insight into a lot of inner workings of society that were previously a mystery to me.

I was able to figure this all out while having zero faith in myself; I believed I was stupid, incapable of survival, honestly thought I would be dead within few months. I was reading army survival guides so I could survive in the wild if I ever got homeless. I was learning even without believing that all of this would help me, it's only now looking back at everything that I understand how much knowledge I gained just from trying it and doing it in every possible way until it clicked.

The most complex for me, were the social skills, since I'm still easily scared of people. But I am slowly making progress on that and finding better ways to deal with people's behaviours. Being curious works well because people love when someone is curious about them and shows interest in what they do. It's been a revelation that outside of my home, I really can just ask any question I am interested about, and will usually get some kind of an answer, and not 'how do you not know this already'. Outside of abusive homes, you're not expected to know everything, without ever being told.

While survival skills and independence are deeply forbidden in an abusive situation, being out of one will practically guarantee you that you'll get them. Sometimes you'll be forced to learn some stuff like cleaning and cooking and you'll have no choice but to learn, and it will become easier the more you do it. But nobody will make you feel bad for not doing it right the first time, there will be no punishment, no berating, you're free mess it up any amount of times, without any consequences. I would say that maybe you wasted some time and effort, but no time or effort is truly wasted when you're learning something; rather it takes that time and effort to learn. But it's not painful, it's not shameful, it's not forbidden anymore. You can learn a lot of things at your own ease and convenience, without worrying about someone's opinion on what you're doing. You can also learn dumb things and never be criticized or called out on it, you can do absolutely ridiculous stuff that brings you joy and no harm is done.

I know feeling behind sucks, and it feels shameful and horrible, but the good news is that you can catch up very quickly, and not only that. If you really want to have a lot of survival skills under your belt, and you keep learning, you will soon know more than most people do. You can out-do any person out there if you have a passion for it. I had people who were telling me how to do basic stuff, surprised at me knowing more than they knew, just months later. It's a great feeling!

#survival skills #escaping abuse #abuse sabotage #lacking in survival skills #gaining survival skills #living out of abuse gains you skills automatically #learning survival skills

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newtthetranswriter · 6 months ago

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Lost and Found Soulmates

(I would kill for my tiger boy)

Word count: 1234

Paring: Kazutora Hanemiya x gn! Reader

Summary: Soulmate connections are weird, hopefully finding things your soulmate lost can actually help you find them.

A/n: Hello everyone, this is my entry for @softxsuki ‘s Fanfic contest. I really loved the idea of the event and seeing that the word count was changed from 5k to 1k really helped push me to actually participate. I’m happy with how this idea turned out and even if I don't win, at least it was the motivation I needed to beat up my writer’s block a little bit. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys and as always remember to hydrate or diedrate.

“You don’t get it Takashi, you have such a normal connection with your soulmate. I have to try and piece together who they are based on random shit that appears in my house once a month.” I ranted to my lavender haired friend once again. “Like how are a pencil and hair tie supposed to lead me to my soulmate? Almost every person on earth has access to these things.” I said, laying my head on the table next to Takashi’s sewing machine.

All I received in response was a chuckle and a shake of his head. “Your silence doesn’t help me Taka. You’re supposed to be giving advice.” I grumbled.

“What do you want me to say Y/n? It’s not like I know who your soulmate is. All you can do is hope that the next thing they lose is an actual clue to who they are.” He answered, while still focusing on the jacket he was working on. “Or you could try to lose something that tells your soulmate how to find you.” Takashi suggested.

“It won’t work. I’ve already tried that. Somehow the universe knows when I’m trying to lose stuff. Plus every time I lose my wallet it always shows up in an hour or so. Stuff that gets switched is gone for the whole month.” I explained, not missing the look of judgement that crossed my friends face. “Don’t judge me. If you had such an absurd connection you’d try anything to figure out who you’re meant to be with.” Standing up and stretching, I sighed. “Anyways I should get going. I have to get some stuff before the Toman meeting later.” Takashi just nodded, giving a quick see you later, before going back to looking at the stitches.

Walking out of the studio, I couldn’t help but sigh dreading the idea of returning home to find the useless item my soulmate lost this month. Like I said before it’s always something that is no help at all in finding my soulmate. Sometimes I just wish my soulmate connection was something normal like their name on my wrist or hearing each other's thoughts. It would make things so much easier instead of this stupid game of lost and found.

The walk back to my little apartment was quiet as if the world around me knew that I was dreading walking through my front door. When I finally did get inside I was surprised that sitting on my coffee table wasn’t the usual pencil or hair tie.

No this month it was something different, something that left me at a loss for words. Sitting in the same spot where the lost objects always appear, was a single earring. But not just any earring, it was a short gold chain that ended in a simple golden bell. The same golden bell I had seen hanging alongside black and yellow hair since I was in middle school. The same golden bell that was one of two distinguishing features of one of my closest friends.

I stood in my living room just staring at the piece of jewelry for what felt like hours, but was really only a few minutes. This had to be a coincidence right, my soulmate just happened to have a similar earring. There was no way my soulmate was actually Kazutora, the guy I had admired for years but settled with just being his friend because there was no chance we were soulmates.

Before I could try and convince myself that he had just dropped the last time he came over, my phone started ringing. Lifting it up I didn’t bother checking the caller ID, I just brought it to my ear before speaking. “Hello-”

I was cut off by a frantic Kazutora. “Did you leave your locket at my apartment last time you came over?” He asked, not bothering to say hello or ask how my day was going.

Hearing mention of my locket, I thought back to this morning when I was getting ready and couldn’t find the small golden necklace that I always wore. I knew it was missing this morning but I also knew for a fact that I had it the night before and I hadn’t been to Kazutora’s place in over a week. There was no way I left my locket at his apartment.

“Where are you?” He asked, taking my silence as an answer.

Snapping out of my train of thought, I finally responded. “I’m at my apartment.” Before I could say anything else or asked if he had left his earring here, the call cut off.

Looking down at my phone startled and confused, I got ready to call him back. As I was about to hit the dial button, a loud knocking sounded from the front door. Setting down my phone and grabbing the earring from the table, I moved to open the front door. In front of me stood none other than Kazutora, he looked just as frantic as he had sounded on the phone.

“This might sound crazy but you’re my soulmate.” He said as soon as he registered that I had opened the door. His words were then followed by him raising his hand to show the golden heart shaped locket I had since I was child.

Finally accepting that this was in fact happening right now, I raised my own hand. “This also might sound crazy, but you’re also my soulmate.” I said, revealing the bell in my hand.

After sharing a laugh and inviting him in, we sat together on my couch. Just enjoying each other's company and joking about the random things we had found over the years.

“Seriously, how do you lose so many hair ties?” I asked from my spot next to him.

He just shrugged. “I don’t know, they’re small and disappear easily, I guess. How do you manage to lose so many socks, like do you have a dresser just full of different ones? Cause I swear I never once saw two of the same sock.” He shot back.

“Don’t judge me and my mismatched socks. At least I know how to keep track of pencils.” I said sticking out my tongue.

A comfortable silence soon enveloped the space, like we were both content to just be here close to each other. It made sense honestly, we had been friends since middle school and it wasn’t uncommon for us to just hang out in silence. But there was something different about this silence, like even if we didn’t notice it before there was still something that finally just felt right.

“I’m glad that you’re my soulmate.” Kazutora said, breaking the silence. “You’ve always been there for me and you make me feel so relaxed. It makes perfect sense that it’s you.”

I just moved closer to him, cuddling into his side. “I can say the same about you.”

With that we spent the evening enjoying each other’s existence and relishing in the fact we finally found our soulmates. It wouldn’t be until the next morning that we realized we had totally missed the Toman meeting after seeing dozens of calls and texts from our friends. We both just laughed it off anyways, after all it had been years since the ‘meetings’ were anything more than a hangout with all the founders. Plus once they heard the news they’d forgive us.

(dividers by @/cafekitsune)

Cash app : $newtjames0220

#x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #newt writes #kazutora x reader #tokyo rev x reader #soulmate au #tokyo rev soulmate au #x gn! reader #Kazutora x gn! reader #Kazutora x reader soulmate au #hanscontest2024

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florencemtrash · 2 years ago

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Hummingbird: Chapter Three

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

Warnings: Terrible science jargon

It was almost silly how quickly the world returned to normal.

Alchemax was splashed on every local newspaper, website, social media account, and TV channel for a solid week before complaints shifted to the neverending construction on the streets of New York. The subway somehow got tighter, packed bodies grumbling about the thirty minutes added to their commute after ten subway cars had fallen through a spot and landed in the Hudson river.

But the events never faded away from your consciousness. The only way you could fall asleep was by leaving all the lights on. It racked up your electric bill like hell, but you couldn’t stand seeing the shadows creep along the wall as nighttime descended on the city - it reminded you too much of the Spot’s blank face and how he managed to stare into your soul without eyes.

Then there was the growing problem of your forgetfulness. You’d never been the best at keeping track of belongings - Mamá always blamed it on your creative brain - but now everything was being misplaced. The alarm clock would disappear from the nightstand and appear in the kitchen, your sock collection was dwindling every day and never making it into the dirty hamper, for Christ’s sake you still hadn’t found your favorite yellow sneakers and it was irritating you to hell and back.

I’m losing my goddamn mind. You often found yourself thinking.

You threw yourself into work, staying in the classroom late to grade and lesson plan until the night crew got used to vacuuming around your feet. You took on extra projects at the Academy, signing up to run after-school detention and volunteering for props and set design for this year’s spring musical “The Addams Family.”

Anything to stay out of your apartment. Anything to keep you from being alone.

Three empty coffee cups mocked your bleary eyes as you sat hunched over the sewing machine after hours. Cheap black lace trailed off the table, slowly shortening as you incorporated the material into Morticia’s dress.

“Fuck!” You hissed in pain and stuck your thumb in your mouth, sucking away the blood from your fourth needle prick of the night. At this rate you’d have more holes punched into you than swiss cheese.

It was time to give up for tonight.

Before you could forget you slipped the stolen Brooklyn Visions Academy uniform from your bag and hid it in the bottom-most cubby in the storage room. The sleeping bag and pillow from your apartment were also stuffed there, ready for Miles to use whenever he needed an extra break from being a superhero. You suspected Gwen had also been sneaking by to visit Miles now that she had more freedom to explore the multiverse - hence the spare uniform.

“How’s he doing?” You’d asked Miles earlier that day. Miguel’s unspoken name had lingered on the tip of your tongue, forcing the color to rise into your cheeks. Luckily Miles knew exactly who you were talking about.

A knowing grin grew on his face, “Not too bad. He seems more on edge than usual, but I hear he’s working on his temper.”

“He’s not body slamming any more teenagers?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Good.” You paused, “If he gives you any more trouble, send him my way. I’ll give him a piece of my mind.”

Miles saluted you, “You got it.”

You meant it as a joke… but you also wanted a reason to see him again.

You were just about to switch the light off in your classroom when a flash of yellow caught your eye. Tucked behind a stack of newsprint, the vine charcoal rubbing away on your fingers as you carefully lifted the papers, was your prized pair of yellow converse.

It was too late to think about how they’d ended up so far from home, so you tossed them in your bag, threw out the coffee cups, and saved your muddled mind the trouble of figuring it out tonight.

The midnight subway car was filled with the usual Friday-night suspects - overworked nurses, loners just killing time, drunk party goers covered in more glitter than a kindergartener’s Valentine’s day card, and you.

You didn’t miss Richard, not really. What you really missed was coming home to someone and the feeling of another body weighing down the right side of the bed. More recently you’d been imagining what it would be like to come home to Miguel.

You kicked off your shoes at the bottom of the landing, shuffling up the steps and pulling off your clothes as you went, modesty be damned. By the time you face planted on your bed, hair still damp from the shower, it was nearing 2am and Miguel still hadn’t left your mind. He’d planted himself in your thoughts like a spider too high up on a wall for you to squash and too large for you to ignore.

Mercifully you didn’t have to endure the pains of a schoolgirl crush for very long. Sleep dragged you under and you welcomed it as your mind finally went quiet.

You awoke with a start, suffocating under the heavy blankets that you’d buried yourself in last night. You’d been dreaming again about the collider. You’d been dreaming about Miguel - this time in a feverish haze that left your mind in a puddle on the floor.

How was it possible that a stranger could occupy so much space in your mind? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he’d held you like you were everything and then left without saying goodbye.

But you weren’t complete strangers…

“Aren’t you his wife?”

Miles had asked the question so innocently and Miguel hadn’t said anything against it, so it must be true. Somewhere, in some other universe, you’d been married to one another.

Are you thinking about me too? You wondered, opening your eyes in hopes of chasing the memory of him away.

…Maybe you were still dreaming, because the last time you checked you hadn’t fallen asleep under a tree in Central Park. And even if you had, you highly doubted you could have lugged your mattress and bed frame with you all the way from Brooklyn.

Oh por el amor de Dios.

The glorious thing about New York City is that everyone knew how to mind their own business. So when people saw a high school art teacher in Star Wars pjs leap for joy upon finding a $5 bill on the ground, they didn’t question it.

You were so ecstatic about saving yourself the two-and-a-half hour walk back to Brooklyn that you didn’t remember a highly important piece of information until after you hopped off the subway - you didn’t have your keys or your phone.

Joder.

Your forehead knocked against the front door of your apartment building with an audible clunk.

“Por el amor de la mierda, ¿por qué mi vida es así?” You muttered under your breath.

“Y/n?” Your landlord, Mrs. Fleming, pushed her tortoise-shell glasses higher up on her face, the thick lenses magnifying her eyes to bug-like proportions. “Oh it is you, my dear.”

You groaned, color rushing into your cheeks as you turned around sheepishly. “Good morning, Mrs. Fleming.”

The elderly woman gave you a once-over look, crocheting needles clicking together as she rummaged around in her bag for her keys, “The old walk of shame, I see.”

“What?! Wait, no-this isn’t-I’m not-”

She patted you on the back before unlocking the door and holding it open for you, “I only use the turn of phrase because that’s what you young folks call it. Ain’t nothing shameful in it. It’s good of you to get out there. I never did like Richard much.”

You were at a loss for words.

Mrs. Fleming, sprightly as she was for her age, followed you up to your apartment with her extra set of keys jingling merrily in her hands.

“Now, you have a good rest of your weekend, dear.” She said once you’d been graciously let into your apartment, “And don’t forget your keys next time!”

“Thanks Mrs. Fleming.” You said. Her amused chuckle echoed through the air as she shuffled off to her own apartment.

You sprawled out on the ground where your bed should have been, trying to even out your breathing as the reality of the morning’s events crashed down around you like a house of cards.

This can’t be happening. ¿Qué diablos me pasa?

You rolled onto your stomach, repeatedly banging your face into a spare pillow to muffle the sound of your aggravated screams.

The pillow accepted your frustration with little complaint until something in you just snapped.

All at once the pillow disappeared from beneath you and then blinked into existence by the closet allowing your face to crash into the floor unprotected.

You grabbed at your burning nose, eyes swimming with tears of pain as you registered what had happened.

“No… oh no.”

>>>

The rain beat down irregularly, fluctuating back and forth from being barely a drizzle to a torrential downpour.

You gripped an empty to-go cup in your hand, the tea you’d hoped would calm your nerves long gone.

It took you three hours to make it here. First you kept teleporting your keys away every time you touched them, futilely chasing them around the apartment. Then you’d nearly gotten hit by a taxi and teleported yourself to the bathroom of a tea shop on the Upper West Side. Miraculously your powers had quieted after that, allowing you to get on the subway and here without incident.

A familiar figure made its way down the block, hood up to protect from the rain.

“Miles!” You leapt up from your seat, racing across the street to the annoyed honking of two taxis.

“Miss Y/l/n? How’re you doing?” Miles narrowed his eyes in worry, seeing the way your fingers nervously pulled at a loose string from your sweater, “What happened to your face?” The flesh around your nose was red and tender, slowly transforming into a purple bruise.

“I’m sorry for bothering you like this, but I didn’t know where else to go.” You looked around carefully before lifting the cup in the palm of your hand.

You furrowed your brow in concentration, willing that same power within you to snap into place again.

“What’s supposed to-”

“Just-just give me a minute.”

A minute passed, and nothing. Your heartbeat quickened as you grew more and more flustered.

“Miss Y/l/n are you sure you’re ok?” Skepticism and genuine concern laced his voice.

“I’m fine!”

Snap!

The cup blinked out of existence like an old-school television that had been turned off. Miles saw it reappear over the park across the street and land on a dog walker’s head. The man in question looked up at the sky bewildered, like he expected to find God there.

Miles’s wide eyes met yours.

“Oh shit.”

He pulled you into the empty alleyway behind his building, using his spider webs to straighten the trash cans that rolled around on the ground and clear out a space large enough for the two of you to comfortably stand side by side.

He hung close to the street, Gwen’s face shimmering to life above his wrist as he spoke with his back turned to you.

“Hey, Gwen. I’ve got a situation.” He whispered into the watch.

You caught snippets of their conversation, shrinking in your coat as you tried to suppress the anxiety growing in your chest. If there was anything you’d learned about your powers it was that they tended to flare up with your emotions.

“Do you think we can trust him with this? I don’t want anything to happen to her… Yeah, yeah. No, I understand. I’ll bring her in. See you later.”

Miles turned back to you, a strained smile on his face, “Sorry about that.”

“Miles, what’s going on?” “I got to bring you into Spidey HQ. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but Miguel might.”

He unzipped his raincoat and hoodie, exposing the black and red spider-suit beneath and tugging on his mask.

Your heart gave a flip at the mention of your husband’s name (could you even call him that?). Would he be happy to see you again? Would things be awkward between the two of you?

A familiar watch flashed on his wrist as he began pressing buttons on the orange holographic screen. You’d seen it happen before, a portal of wild glitching colors pulsing to life in front of you, but that didn’t make it any less impressive. Miles stepped into it, dragging you along with him like he was just passing through any regular doorway.

He swept his arm outward, smiling at the expression on your face.

“Welcome to Spidey HQ, Miss Y/l/n.”

Your jaw dropped as you passed through the portal - an actual portal - to Miguel’s dimension.

Hundreds, no thousands, of Spider-People roamed the open air halls, some on two legs, some on four, some on wheels, and some just preferred to swing through the air on webs, catching and releasing the nimble strings with practiced grace from the walkways that crossed overhead like… well like a spider’s web.

Miguel certainly hadn’t wasted the spider concept when it came to their headquarters.

“I didn’t know there was a universe composed entirely of Spider-Men…Spider-People?… Spider…” A cat hissed at your feet when you nearly stepped on its tail as you blindly followed Miles through the crowd, “Spider-Things?”

“Sorry Spider-Cat!” Miles said as the feline grumbled, tail high in the air as it calmly leapt onto the wall and continued on its way as though gravity were only an inconvenience.

“Actually, every world has only one Spider-Person, but the Alchemax explosion last year ended up opening holes into other universes. Miguel created this place as a hub for Spider-People while everyone tries to fix the anomalies.”

“Anomalies?”

“Yeah, beings that have accidentally gotten stuck in another world.”

“Oh… yeah that makes total sense..” Your words trailed off as a roaring laugh caught your attention, “Is that… is that a dinosaur?”

You pointed at the group crowded around a cafeteria table howling with laughter. Burgers bounced on trays as the T-Rex doubled over to slap the table for dramatic effect.

“AY YO, REXA!” Miles shouted over your head, throwing his arms up wildly.

Rexa exposed razor sharp teeth in a grin and waved one short arm towards you. You returned a meek wave in return.

“That’s Rexa. She’s super funny. Just uh…” he covered his mouth before whispering in your ear, “Maybe don’t mention anything about her arms. She gets a little sensitive.”

“Oh…yeah, of course. No problem.”

Miles continued to lead you through the building, periodically taking breaks for you to catch up as you kept your eyes trained on everything except the path he’d carved in front of you. At one point you simply disappeared from view, reappearing four stories up in a psychiatrist’s office.

A tweed-suited Spider-Man jumped in his seat, dropping the box of tissues he’d been preparing to throw to his client.

“Oh! I… I’m so sorry.” You said, flustered at the sight of a sandy haired Peter Parker variant sobbing his eyes out into a spider plushie. You inched along the wall towards the door, “I’m just-I’m just going to make my way out.”

You closed the door as quietly as possible, turning around and coming face to face with Miles again. You jumped and snapped, this time landing on Rexa’s table, foot squishing her burger into roadkill.

You groaned and tilted your head up, watching Miles sail out the office window and swing his way down.

This was going to take a while.

There was no shortage of Spiderpeople to steal your attention, but finally after a few (uninterrupted) turns down pristine white hallways and an elevator ride into the belly of Spidey HQ, it was just you and Miles again.

From his lair, Miguel traced your figure with his eyes. When you caught sight of the camera in the elevator, its red pupil narrowing in on you, you smiled sheepishly and waved. The small action made his stomach flip like a schoolboy who’d been given his first kiss.

He needed to pull himself together before he saw you face to face again.

“I’m just saying, I think this is a good thing, Miguel.” Peter B. said, swinging up to the platform and wrapping an arm around Miguel’s broad shoulders. Mayday crawled out and onto the control board, pressing buttons haphazardly and closing half the screens. She clapped her hands in wonder and Miguel grumbled half-heartedly.

Once she started walking, all bets were off. She’d be an absolute menace to Spider Society. Already she liked to treat Miguel like her personal playscape, crawling onto his shoulders and tugging at his brown curls.

Her antics almost made him smile… almost.

“If she’s here then that can only mean something’s wrong.” Miguel said, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen and ignoring Mayday as she slumped over his back, slowly sliding down his chest and into his waiting arms with a dramatic sigh.

You looked tired and nervous, fingers tugging at the strings of your raincoat. A purple bruise spread out from your nose, moving with the curve of your cheekbones. Had someone hurt you?

Miguel’s blood began to boil.

“Or,” Peter bumped his hips against Miguel’s, “it could mean she wants to see you again.”

“Stop that.” Miguel growled.

“Stop what?”

Stop giving me hope.

Miguel was about to bite back at Peter and wipe the mischievous grin on his face when the doors slid open. Miles’s voice rang through the empty space.

“These are all those anomalies I was telling you about. Doc Oc, Rhino, Sandman, Mysterio. I don’t even want to know who that is.”

“Why is it so dark in here?”

“Miguel likes to brood. I think he’s part vampire.”

Miguel tossed Mayday into her father’s arms, swiftly turning around and busying himself at the control panel to distract from the pounding of his heart. A dozen screens flashed to life above the control board and Miguel concentrated on none of them.

Peter grinned like a madman. This was going great.

“Miss Y/n!” He shouted out, throwing his hands in the air before hopping off the platform. Mayday squealed in delight and copied his actions. Miguel only cursed under his breath and rubbed his temples. Leave it to Peter to be the cause of 90% of his headaches.

“Looking good, teach!”

“Ummm… thanks?” You responded as Mayday grabbed at you with chubby fingers. You didn’t have much choice but to hold her as Peter thrust her into your arms. Fear jolted through you like a lightning strike and you quickly handed her off to Miles, the poor girl frowning and continuing to make grabbing motions at you. The last thing you wanted was to make Mayday disappear from your arms.

Peter tipped his head to the side but for once made no comment. He continued to chat you up, pulling small smiles from your lips and ignoring the way you kept glancing at Miguel as his platform slowly lowered to the ground.

He had his hands on his hips, bright red and blue Spider-suit cutting a striking silhouette against the dark background.

If he’d noticed you walking into the room, he didn’t show it and you tried your best not to deflate at that realization.

“Don’t worry. He just likes to make an entrance,” Miles whispered in your ear. And some entrance that was. He stepped off the platform, back tight and straight as he moved forward with measured, even footsteps.

Miles took one step forward, angling his body in front of you with a weariness in his eyes.

Miguel stopped, face betraying nothing as he looked you up and down once.

“I never thought I’d see you again.” The words would have sounded romantic coming from someone else’s lips, but from him they just sounded dry and clinical.

“Same here.” You said. The words came out breathlessly.

“What’s happened?”

His hand hovered in the air between you two before he swiftly dropped it to his side. He wanted to reach out and touch your face. He wanted to tilt your chin upwards so he could take a good look at the damage done to your nose and make sure you were ok. Perhaps if you’d been alone he would have allowed himself to do it, but as it was, they had company.

“We need your help, Miguel.” Miles cut through the tension, “Something’s up with Miss Y/l/n. She’s got powers now - teleportation similar to the Spot’s.”

His heart stuttered in his chest.

“Is that true?” he said, desperately looking to you for answers. The Spot’s powers had made him unstable in more ways than one and Miguel shivered to think about anything happening to you.

You nodded, “Things keep disappearing when I touch them. Sometimes I accidentally teleport to places when I’m frustrated. I didn’t realize what was going on until I woke up in Central Park last night.”

Miguel turned around, muttering under his breath as his mind raced a thousand steps ahead of him.

Of all the people this could have happened to, it had to be you. He thought he’d done the right thing by leaving you alone, forcing himself not to portal to your dimension every night. His multiversal travels had taught him a thing or two about the ways things operated. Some figures, like Peter Parker’s Spider-Man were well represented across worlds. Some figures, like himself, were harder to come by.

As for you? He only knew of three worlds where you existed - in one world, his actions had led to your death and the death of your daughter. In the second, Spot had murdered you in his quest to figure out Spider-Man’s identity.

And in this one…

Well he thought he’d been keeping you safe.

Teleportation was a dangerous ability - unpredictable and difficult to control. Left unchecked you could find yourself in front of a car speeding down the highway or at the top of Mount Everest or in a different dimension altogether, constantly glitching as your molecules broke apa-

“Wait,” Miguel stiffened, back tightening as he swiveled around on his heels, “Where’s your watch?”

“My watch?” you glanced at your naked wrist, “I mean I usually just check my phone for the t-”

“No, your day pass watch. The thing that stabilizes you in this universe.”

Miles’s eyes blew open. “Mierda. Sabía que había olvidado algo.”

“How long have you two been here?”

“Maybe two hours.” You guessed.

“And nothing’s happened?”

“Is something supposed to happen?”

Even Peter B. looked concerned. Panic rose in your chest and you threatened to snap. Miguel reached out and grasped your wrist, palm sliding down until you felt the weight and warmth of his hand wrapped in yours. He led you to the med bay, Peter and Miles following closely behind.

The paper atop the padded examination table crinkled as you took a seat, watching Miguel’s broad shoulders flex and stretch as he dug an extra watch out from the back of a cabinet.

“Lyla, run a scan of Y/n.”

The woman flickered to life in front of him. “What’s the magic word?” She fluttered her eyelashes.

“Lyla.” He was in no mood for games today

“Ok, ok. Don’t be testy.” Lyla appeared in front of you, an orange scanner materializing in her hands that swept across your body with a cool touch. “Scan complete.”

“Here you go,” Miguel felt some relief pour back into his body as he fastened the watch around your wrist, hand lingering against your pulse like he wanted further confirmation that you were alive and well.

“Hey, why does she get one of the fancy ones?” Miles protested. The watch, identical to the ones worn by Miguel, Peter, and Miles flashed its face at you. It was far too elaborate and expensive to be just a day pass.

Miguel ignored him, walking over to one of the monitors and skimming through the output data.

“It took six months for Miguel to give me one of those bad boys,” The paper crinkled again as Peter hopped onto the table beside you, whispering, “Looks like someone’s got a favorite,” and earning a glare from Miguel.

Peter winked suggestively.

Miguel scowled.

Your cheeks turned a rosy red, your coat disappearing from around your shoulders and landing in a rumple at Miguel’s feet like the world’s worst suggestive gesture. Peter howled with laughter.

“No puedo creerlo.” Miguel whispered, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Lyla, am I looking at this right?”

“You sure are. Y/n’s DNA is perfectly stable. Not a trace of multiversal quantum poisoning to be found. And! Her radiation signature matches that of more than a thousand different universes. Bet you’ve never seen that before.”

“How is that even possible?”

“Hmmmm, let me think.” Lyla spun around in a digital office chair, waiting for her moment to break the dramatic pause. Miguel groaned - he would need to improve her code and tone down the dramatism. “Looks like packets of quantum energy from across the multiverse were released during the Alchemax hypercompact fusion explosion and merged with the only unaltered sentient lifeform in the vicinity.”

“Dios mio.”

At the end of her explanation she bowed gracefully, arm and fur-lined coat sweeping off to the side.

“Did you get any of that?” Peter asked out of the corner of his mouth.

“Peter, I took forestry as my science gen ed in art school and barely passed so… no.”

“Uhhh, can you repeat it for the rest of the class?” Miles piped up.

Lyla leaned forward, one hand on her hip and the other tipped her heart-shaped sunglasses onto her head.

“Y/n absorbed energy from a ton of different universes so as far as the multiverse is concerned, she doesn’t register as an anomaly. No glitching. No dying outside of her universe without a watch. No predicted multiversal collapse.” Lyla smiled. “Predicted.”

You looked less than pleased. The last month had been filled to the brim with life-altering events from finding out Miles was a superhero, to getting kidnapped and nearly dying, to finding out your variant’s husband was an all-too-attractive, brooding Spider-Man. It was getting to be too much - you were a teacher for crying out loud! Maybe you’d have handled it better if you were a crime-fighting detective, or a fancy scientist, or a millionaire with access to the latest tech and weapons. Instead you were just… you.

“Can you fix it?”

Miguel flinched at the look on your face. You were looking to him for help and for answers, but he couldn’t provide them in any satisfactory way. He’d never encountered anyone with your abilities.

The confusion and fear that came with discovering your powers - that was a journey all Spider-People went through, and they usually went through it alone.

Miguel sighed, “There’s nothing to fix, Y/n.” He said the words with a softness no one had heard from him in years, perhaps ever, “This is who you are now.”

“So I’m just going to be stuck like this forever?”

“Having powers isn’t so bad.” Peter chimed in with a small smile. “From time to time, it can actually be pretty awesome.”

You allowed a small, empty smile to grow on your lips. It was a smile Miguel was well acquainted with - the kind of smile that said I’m not fine, but I want you to believe that I am.

“I have some tests we could run.” Miguel offered up, “I can’t reverse what’s happened but maybe I can come up with something to help you control your powers, at least while you’re learning how to use them.”

You nodded, the smile turning into something real, “I would like that. Thank you.”

Peter was practically vibrating with excitement when he caught the look that passed between the two of you and the hint of hope on Miguel’s usually stony face.

He clapped his hands down on Miles’s shoulders, “Well would you look at the time? I need to put Mayday down for her nap and grab some food. You’ll learn this soon enough, but being a superhero does burn the calories.”

He hopped off the table, waltzing all the way to the door before he noticed that Miles was missing from his side. “Miles! Come join me.”

“Actually, I was going to wait with-”

“Miles.” Peter coughed into his fist, bug eyes burning into Miles until he got the hint.

“Oh? Oh! Yeah, sorry Miss Y/l/n, I forgot I told Gwen I’d meet up with her.”

You waved him off, “I’ll be fine, Miles. Thanks for everything.”

“I’ll show her how to use the watch and send her home when we’re finished.” Miguel said, pulling on a lab coat that had been draped over his office chair. He rarely had time to work in the lab, more focused on his primary duty of maintaining the stability of the multiverse, but the familiar glide of the fabric over his skin did help to relax him. It reminded him of the old days when Spider-Man didn’t exist and the multiverse was just a fun theory tossed around at company lunches.

A thin silence stretched between you two after Miles and Peter left, and you contented yourself with watching Miguel as he busily typed away at his monitor, labeled vials, and prepared the syringes. Every movement was practiced and controlled like he’d done this a million times before.

Miguel was screaming on the inside. You were close enough for his heightened senses to pick up on the honey lemon shampoo you used tinged with the woodsy scent of linseed oil. He was powerless under your gaze like an insect trapped under a microscope.

“I just need to collect some blood samples.” Miguel said, gently holding out his hand. You offered your arm up without complaint, distracting yourself from the pinch of the needle by reading the faded name tag printed on his lab coat.

You whistled low to break the tension, “Dr. O’Hara. That’s impressive. What kind of doctor are you?”

“I was a geneticist. Not the medical kind though. I worked in research at Alchemax.”

“Is that how you got your spidey powers?”

He rolled his eyes, “They’re not spidey powers, they’re acrachno-humanoid genetic augmentations.”

“Qué estúpido. Just call them spidey powers. You scientists just like to give things complicated names to feel superior.” The corner of Miguel’s lips quirked up every so slightly. The thrill of seeing any emotion on Miguel’s face lightened the feeling in your chest.

“Was it hard becoming Spider-Man?” You asked.

Miguel shrugged, wiping away the small bead of blood on your arm. “I had it easier than most. I was already looking into the possibility of combining human and arachnid DNA and I had the resources to study my powers.” Miguel paused. It had been a long time - too long - since he’d had a conversation like this with anyone. He could cast his mind back to talks with you his wife, but those had always been domestic in nature.

“The hardest part was not having anyone to talk to.” He said, finishing his thought.

“Sounds lonely.” You remarked, accepting the q-tip from him and swabbing the inside of your cheek. He collected the sample in a vial of greenish liquid and gave it a thorough shake, “Do you have people now that you talk to?”

“No.” His answer was short and to the point.

You’d touched a sore spot and you decided to prod it. “Would you like someone to talk to?”

Again, the corner of his lips twitched, “Are you offering?”

You copied his shrug from earlier, “Maybe.”

He took a few more cheek swabs and then a strand of hair. His hand lingered by your cheek, frowning as he took in the bruise on your face.

Now that you two were alone he dared to gently tilt your head to the side.

“You never told me what happened.”

Your hands flew up to your face in embarrassment and Miguel saw the tips of your ears grow red. He liked it.

“I may or may not have teleported my pillow away right before smashing my face into the floor.”

The breath left his lungs in a quiet chuckle. That sounded like something you’d do.

“But no one’s bothering you?”

“What? Oh no. No, it’s nothing like that.”

He nodded, the tightness in his chest unraveling with that knowledge. He knew you weren’t his wife and he knew that you didn’t know him well enough yet, but that didn’t stop him from caring. The truth was he liked you from the moment you slapped his shoulder and cursed at him, and it wasn’t just because you looked like someone from his past.

“This will take some time to work through.” He tilted his head towards where the tabletop machines whirred and spun, “But if I’m right, I may be able to adjust your watch to stabilize you in a specific place, not just a specific universe. It’s not a permanent fix but you won’t be waking up in Central Park again anytime soon.”

“That would be preferable.”

You moved to take off the watch and hand it over to Miguel but he stopped you.

“Keep this one. In case anything happens you can contact me or the other Spider-People,” He said, walking her through the steps of using the watch, “Headquarters is always open so if anything happens, come here.”

You nodded. With an encouraging look from Miguel you punched “Earth-1610” into the locator and then your home address.

Just like last time the portal bloomed open beside you, scattering a few loose papers on the ground. Through the portal you caught a glimpse of your living room, citylights flashing outside your window.

“Come back next week. Until we have a better understanding of your powers it would be good for us to monitor you and check that you’re stable.”

And it would be good for you to see her again.

Miguel squashed the thought as soon as it popped into his brain in Peter’s voice. He really needed to stop spending so much time with him.

You stepped through the portal and were embraced by the familiar smell of your apartment. It made you feel better about what was to come. You turned to smile at Miguel, his tired eyes lighting up ever so slightly.

“I’ll see you next week then.”

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_________ Author's note: Here's the next chapter! Let me know what you guys think of the writing and where the story is going. I'm hoping to dive more deeply into Y/n x Miguel's relationship in the coming chapters so get ready for angst and fluff!

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