#to the charmed ones and take them down????

[deakyjoe]

I Dream Of You Even When Awake

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Reynolds x Reader (fem)

Category: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, smut

Summary: Your gift makes sleep difficult. Luckily, Bob is there to guide you through it.

Warnings: 18+, smut, Thunderbolts* spoilers, kissing, handjob, hurt/comfort, nightmares, reader has power of feeling other's emotions, friends to lovers, sexual innuendos, talk of sex, Bob is kind of a sub but not entirely, pet name (pretty boy)

Word count: 6.8k

A/N: Lewis Pullman, my love, you have charmed me with another character of yours named Bob. We knew this was coming.

One thing that the New Avengers had in common was nightmares. You all had them. It was worse for some than others. But it was terrible for you most of all. Being able to feel other people's emotions meant that the feelings everybody experienced during their nightmares would rocket through you as well.

This caused a lot of sleepless nights for you. Laying awake in bed, sweating from the shared anxiety that would travel through the other members of your team and land in you as their final destination. At least when you were awake you could find something to distract yourself from the emotion. It pained you to know that your friends went through it every night but when you managed to sleep through it, all it would do is influence your own nightmares. You'd find yourself dreaming up your own worst fears with the horrors of your friends' lives mixed in. 

It was a particularly bad night, all of them having bad dreams which only filled your body with sadness and anxiety. You stuck headphones over your ears, music turned up loud to blast through your head in an attempt to block out some of the feelings. It only helped a little. You stared at the wall opposite your bed, trying to think of better things and trying to latch onto any sort of feeling. You were getting nothing. Either everybody was having a bad night or no positive emotions were strong enough to reach you in the moment. It sucked.

A few hours went by, your eyes blurring with exhaustion as you continued to stare. The emotions weren't dying down, only going through fluctuations where everybody's sleep cycles would circle around. There was a tugging at the side of your head, like something else was trying to get in but you couldn't quite manage to get a latch on it. You sighed and squeezed your eyes shut, only opening them when the tugging got stronger.

You squinted at your door, trying to figure out whether it was your tired brain making you see things or whether there actually was a shadow moving underneath your door. Taking a deep breath in a bid to relax, you used your gift to reach out. Then you felt it. A different type of anxiety, it was more like a quiet concern rather than fear and nerves. 

You ripped the headphones from your head and sat up straighter, surprised when there was a tentative knock on your door. "Hello?"

"Hi." The voice was timid. "It's- it's Bob."

You let out a soft sigh of relief. It was only Bob. You clambered out of bed and padded towards your door, opening it with a tired smile. "Hey, Bob. What can I help you with?"

He blinked back at you, his hair mussed up and clothes crinkled from sleep. "Your light was on."

You frowned. "Uh, yes."

"It's the middle of the night." He added on, hands twisting together into the hem of his shirt.

You realised he was worried about you and wondering why you were awake in the middle of the night. "Yeah, uh, the team dream rather restlessly. And- and I can feel it."

"Oh." He nodded, suddenly remembering what your gift entailed. "That's horrible."

You shrugged. "I'm used to it. But thank you for checking on me. That's sweet of you."

The apples of his cheeks bloomed pink, blood rushing to his face. "No- no problem. Just wanted to see if you were okay."

It was then that you realised you suddenly felt better. Bob's concern was a nicer feeling than the nightmares everyone else was going through. And when he'd blushed you felt another emotion, a warmer emotion. 

"I appreciate that, Bob. Thank you." You smiled at him, pleased when he offered a small smile back. That also improved your mood. "You're making me feel a lot better actually."

"I am?" He seemed surprised, hands dropping to his sides.

"Yes, you're a lot calmer than everyone else right now and it feels good." You paused, looking him up and down. "Can you- could you maybe stay with me for a little while?"

"Oh! Yes. Yes, of course." He shifted from foot to foot, glancing over your shoulder at your room. "Um, why?"

"Because I'm tired of feeling anxious from everyone else. We can just sit for a few minutes and then you can go back to your room. If that's okay?"

He nodded and took a step towards you. "Sure, for as long as you want."

Bob really was sweet, his awkward demeanour only the surface of how lovely he really was. It was difficult to believe that he was technically the same guy who had killed half of New York only a couple of months ago. He really wasn't that person, and never had been. Since then, he'd quickly become one of your favourite people and you didn't see that changing any time soon. He was just the kind of person you wanted to keep around, so worthy of love and protection. 

You tilted your head backwards and opened your door slightly wider. "Come on in then. We can sit on my bed."

His blue eyes widened for a moment before shuffling towards you, bare feet sliding against the floor. You shut the door behind him, gesturing towards your bed to offer him a seat when he hesitated in the middle of your room.

"It won't bite." You snorted, stopping next to him. "You can just sit on the edge if it makes you uncomfortable."

"No, it's not that. I just don't want to intrude into your space." He glanced at you from from the corner of his eye.

"I wouldn't have invited you in if you could do that." You replied, walking around the side of your bed to sit back down in the spot you had been before. You pointed at the space next to you. "I don't bite either."

A small smile graced his face as he went to the other side of the bed to sit next to you. Bob rested against the headboard, staring at the same wall you had been before he'd arrived.

"So... do we chat? Or something?" He asked, head flopping to look at you.

You resisted the urge to push his hair out of his face so you could see his sweet face in all of its glory. He really did make you feel better with his mere presence. You'd never experienced that with someone before.

"We can, if you want. Or we can just sit quietly."

He pushed his own hair out of his eyes, revealing the baby blues to you again. "What were you doing before I knocked?"

"I was listening to music. To try- to try and block it out."

"Was it working?"

"No." You shook your head. "But you're working."

He looked away from you and you panicked, scared that that had been too much. It often freaked people out when you reminded them you could feel all of their emotions. But then you felt it. Bob was happy.

You inched slightly closer to him. "Feels nice when you're happy. It's warm."

He looked back at you. "Warm?"

"And soft. Most people feel harsher when they're happy, in an excitable way. But not you. It's difficult to explain." You closed your eyes, a pleased smile on your lips. "I like the way it feels."

Bob's breathing grew heavier, his voice cracking as he spoke. "I'm glad."

You hummed lowly, your heart rate slowing the more you relaxed. You hadn't realised it had been thundering against your rib cage for the majority of the night. As you calmed down, you grew more and more fatigued. Bob's effect on you was quick and he could only watch as you started to fall asleep. He didn't want to disturb you, it was clear how exhausted you were. He'd seen the way you would move sluggishly on the days when you hadn't slept very well. It hadn't quite clicked in his head why you'd been like that but it was all adding up now. You had always been so kind to him that he hated to see you struggle. You didn't deserve that. So if all he could do to help was sit by your side so you could sleep peacefully, then he was all too happy to do that. 

When you awoke the next morning, you were startled by what greeted you when you opened your eyes. Bob was laying down beside you, mouth slightly agape and quiet snores leaving him. He really was rather lovely to look at. He had a delicate face, his features rather soft. And that was only increased by the peace that radiated off of him during his slumber.

The feeling that was trickling through you was new, and difficult to comprehend. You'd always been surrounded by people with big characters, their lives usually motivated by some sort of misery. You couldn't complain, you were the same. But it meant that the emotions that you received in response would be equally as agonising. They had their high moments, of course. Evenings the team spent together in the tower when you ate dinner, played games and watched movies were usually far more pleasant. But those were only fleeting moments. 

Bob was a breath of fresh air. He certainly wasn't the happiest person you'd ever known, especially when you first met. But because he was rather easy to please, the simplest of compliments making him practically glow, it meant that you often found yourself also feeling good around him. You tried not to take advantage of that but because he was also just kind of wonderful you found yourself enchanted by him. 

You watched him sleep, trying not to move so as not to disturb him. But he probably sensed your gaze in his slumber as it didn't take long before he stirred. He murmured something lowly as he opened his eyes, squinting against the sunlight streaming in through your windows, and stretched. When his eyes landed on you he offered a timid smile.

"Good morning." You whispered, propping your chin on your hand as you looked down at him.

"G'morning." His voice was gruff, even lower than it usually was.

"Did you stay all night?" You asked, suddenly realising that he was underneath the blankets. 

"Yeah, I hope that's okay." He turned on his side. "You fell asleep and I didn't want to disturb you if I left. Especially since everyone's emotions were getting to you."

You grinned at him. "You really are rather sweet, Bob."

He rolled away from you, groaning into the pillow beneath him. "Thank you."

You laughed and sat up as he did. "No, thank you. I appreciate this. It was nice of you."

"You don't need to thank me." He stood up and turned to look at you. "Do you want to go have breakfast? I hide the good cereal behind the pots and pans."

Affection spiralled through you, he was a great friend and you were so thankful to have him.

"Is that why I can never find it? You keep it hidden?" You started following him out of your room, grabbing your robe as you walked. 

"Yeah..." He let out a short giggle. "Alexei keeps finding it though so I have to keep changing the hiding spot."

You smiled at the back of his head as you followed him to the kitchen, ready to start your day feeling more well rested than you had in years. 

After a busy day spent with Bob doing chores around the tower and just hanging out, you were ready to go to bed. You were tired from the day's activities and needed some rest. But Bob could tell something was off. As each member of the team headed off to bed one by one, he watched as you slowly curled in on yourself where you were sat on the couch. It didn't take him long to realise what was wrong.

"Is it bad again?" He asked you, voice hushed to keep it between the two of you. He wasn't entirely sure how the super soldier serum worked on the three members of the team who had it, but if it was anything like what he'd experienced then he didn't want to risk their enhanced senses hearing him. 

"Mhmm." You nodded weakly, your head collapsing against the back of the couch.

Bob moved to sit next to you, debating whether his next offer would be too forward. But the pain on your face was unbearable for him to witness. You'd been so happy all day, the change around was horrible to see. "Would you like me to come to your room again?"

You looked up at him through your lashes, using the little energy you had to cling on to his emotions. "Yes, please."

"Okay." Bob nodded and stood up, angling his head in the direction of your room. "Let's go then."

It didn't take long for that to become the routine between you and Bob. Free days spent in the tower you'd stay by each other's sides and nights would consist of the two of you sharing your bed in order to sleep peacefully. Practically every second you spent in the tower would be with Bob. As well as being a soothing presence, he was also very funny and considerate. It took you about two days of hanging out one on one for you to decide that he was perfect in basically every way. You only hoped he enjoyed your company as much as you enjoyed his. If the emotions that radiated off of him were any indication, then he did like you. A lot. 

A new feeling had started pouring out of him, you'd noticed. One that made the back of your neck tingle and your brain feel fuzzy behind the eyes. You just couldn't quite figure out exactly what it was yet.

The rest of the team didn't fail to notice how you and Bob seemed closer. Stolen glances became a regular thing, the two of you acting as if you shared a secret. They could only watch on in somewhat confused amusement as Bob would look at you first whenever someone told a joke, to see if you were laughing, and how you had started singling out Bob by name whenever you offered to make anyone else a snack or a drink, like he was suddenly your priority. The two of you would also sit next to each other during every evening the team spent together.

They all assumed something had happened between the two of you. Just what, they didn't know. You weren't exactly acting like a couple, neither of you being flirty or touching the other anymore than usual. But the dynamic had certainly changed and was clearly developing more everyday. Whatever it was, it was clearly having a positive effect on you both. Bob seemed happier, smiling more often when you were around, and his emotions directly influenced yours, you were now a lot calmer and seemed less tense. So they just continued to observe in silence, curious to see where it would lead.

When Yelena had attempted to question Bob on it he had stuttered out that it was nothing, a clear give away that it was something. And when she'd asked you, all you had done was give her a coy smile accompanied by a shrug. She just decided to be happy for the two of you.

The thing between you and Bob was going steady for a few weeks, he'd started to open up to you more and more and you clung on to every word he decided to tell you. It was nice. But things quickly changed one night.

You'd been sleeping peacefully next to each other when you'd suddenly woken up. No clear negative emotion was travelling through you and Bob was still asleep so you assumed something else had woken you up. You listened out and heard nothing so sighed and closed your eyes in an attempt to go back to sleep. But you couldn't.

There was a tug at your lower stomach, a sudden ache further down. You shifted yourself, wondering if your position had you pressing on your organs strangely. But it didn't let up, and started getting more intense instead. And then you realised what it was. It was arousal. You were turned on. Puzzled, you flattened yourself on your back with a huff. What could possibly have you feeling like this? It was a normal night, sharing a bed with Bob with no disturbances other than the soft soundtrack of his breathing. Ever since you had started sharing a bed with him at night, you hadn't found yourself disrupted by the anxious feelings of the rest of your team. Bob's presence had been enough to soothe away the nerves and the fear and replaced it all with comfort and relaxation.

You glanced at Bob through the darkness, nothing seemed different with him. And then he made a noise. It was halfway between a content hum and a needy whimper. Your eyes widened in the dark as the pull in your tummy increased. It hit you all at once. Bob was having a sex dream and it was having an effect on you. 

You scrunched your eyes shut, willing it to go away. Not entirely sure why you were even bothering, it had never been possible to just push the feelings away, you took a shaky breath as Bob let out another sound. This one was louder, more of a whine than anything else. Your brain felt misty, you weren't convinced whether what you were feeling was all of Bob or if it was also a combination of your own arousal at the noises he was making. 

Bob was cute, you'd always thought it, but due to the circumstances through which you'd met you hadn't thought it appropriate to ever try to pursue anything. So the idea had died down and you hadn't even considered it in months. As the two of you had steadily gotten closer, you started to treasure him as a friend and nothing else. Bob was sweet, that was undeniable, and you had grown rather fond of him. And now here he was in your bed having a sex dream that was making you wet between your thighs. 

The final straw was the desperate moan that rumbled from Bob's chest and out of his mouth. You shot up in bed, switching the bedside lamp on and tapped him on the shoulder.

He didn't stir. You envied how deeply he slept.

You poked his arm, surprised when you hit solid bicep. "Bob."

He grumbled and turned his face into the pillow.

"Bob." You sighed, shaking him gently.

"Mm?" The sound was questioning but had an undertone to it that reminded you of the sounds he'd previously been making. 

"Bob, wake up." You said, louder than before. You were hoping that the feeling of being turned on would fade away as he came to but you were wrong.

As Bob's eyes slowly blinked open and landed on your face, the feeling in your core pulsed for a moment as his face turned a rosy shade of pink. 

He shuffled around until he managed to sit up next to you, looking around the room to see if there was some sort of problem. "Is something wrong?"

The sincerity in his eyes was infuriating. But only because it made your breathing go ragged as you took in his messy hair and sleepy eyes. His flushed complexion wasn't helping and you didn't fail to notice how he cautiously tugged the blanket over his lap.

You decided to be blunt with it, not being able to concentrate on anything else other than the ocean between your legs. You hadn't even known it was possible to experience the physical things the people around you were going through. You had only ever felt the emotions of others. The closest you had ever gotten to this was being able to tell when people were injured or sick - people had very distinct emotions when they were in pain. But this was a whole new thing.

"You were having a sex dream."

Bob looked away from you. "H-how... how do you know that? Did I- did I say something?"

He looked nervous, more nervous than you'd seen him in weeks, and you could feel it burning underneath the state of arousal he was still in. 

"No." You rasped, hands gripping the sheets beneath you. "I can feel it."

His head snapped in your direction, eyes going wide. "You what?"

Your chest was heaving. "I can feel it."

"What do you mean?"

You laughed lowly, unsure of how you could explain it. "I'm turned on right now because you are."

"Oh." The flush spread to his ears, his voice barely a squeak. "Sorry?"

There was a momentary ache in your chest at his apology, it was phrased like a question but his body language gave away how genuine it was. He was timid, that was for certain, and always feared he was going to do the wrong thing. Bob was scared of rejection and being abandoned. It was why he so often would tell people when he'd completed a chore or done something helpful like the laundry or the dishes. He felt the need to prove why you should all keep him around. He seemed unaware that you kept him around because you all loved him, and it wasn't conditional based on how useful he was.

You shifted towards him, hands reaching out for a second before awkwardly hovering in front of him. Maybe it wasn't the best time to be touching him. "No, no. You don't need to be sorry. At all. I just..."

Bob stared at you, waiting for you to finish your sentence.

"It's just an unusual situation. I've never felt this before."

He swallowed thickly. "You haven't? But I thought you felt everything other people felt."

You nodded. "I do. But emotions. Not physical things."

His eyes flickered up and down your body quickly. "So you're- you're more than feeling it?"

"I assume I'm experiencing the equivalent of whatever you are." You glanced at the tent in the blanket covering his lap. "Which is a physical reaction in the body."

"What you're saying is..." He didn't seem to know how to word it, fidgeting with the sleeves of his shirt.

"Yes, that's what I'm saying." You clenched your thighs together, being careful with your words since you didn't want to freak him out. "I woke you up so it wouldn't be awkward."

He seemed to deflate slightly, nodding in acceptance. "Awkward."

You smiled softly at him, dipping your head down to meet his eyes. "Not because of you. But because me being awake and horny next to you when you're asleep is... odd."

"No more odd than me having a sex dream in your bed." He mumbled, a small smile turning the corners of his mouth up.

A gentle giggle escaped you, glad he was easing up enough to joke. "It's not like you can choose when you have a sex dream. It's okay."

"I know. But I'm still sorry." He leaned towards you. "I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable."

"Bob, you could never." You mirrored him, leaning in. "I'm just wondering how we're going to solve this."

He blinked and sat up straighter. "What do you mean?"

You took a deep breath. "Well, considering I seem to be feeling whatever you are then there's a possibility that if you decide to go and... sort yourself out-" You sent a meaningful look towards his lap. "-then I will also feel it."

His eyes widened. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh." You repeated. "But I also don't want to leave either of us sexually frustrated. That's never fun. So..."

"So..." He seemed to think for a moment. "Are you suggesting that...?"

You shrugged. "Some variation."

"Variation?" Bob was full of questions, finding himself doing nothing but being confused. 

"If you don't want to actually do anything then mutual masturbation is always good."

Bob spluttered, taken aback by that answer.

"Or not." You added in, trying to determine what his real reaction was. His outward appearance seemed reluctant but your body throbbed at the prospect, which you knew reflected his feelings. That meant nothing though. If he said no then that was all that mattered. 

"No, it's-" He cut himself off, a quiet whine leaving his mouth.

You shifted, thighs clenching. "Bob, I beg of you not to make that noise."

"Sorry." He mumbled.

"If you're unsure then we can start with something slower." You suggested, easing into it.

"Like what?"

You shrugged. "Kissing."

He turned bright pink again. Affection blossomed through your chest, he was so sweet. As shy as he was, you could see the sudden sparkle in his eyes at the idea of kissing you. It made you curious about something, something you'd been suspecting since he had first woken up.

"Bob? Who were you dreaming about?" You asked and watched him grapple for an answer that seemed to evade him. "Was it about me?"

He paused his search for reasoning, turning to look at you slowly before nodding. "Yeah."

You smiled. "I'm flattered."

He rolled his eyes, almost self deprecatingly. "Yeah, okay."

You frowned. "If I wasn't flattered then I'd kick you out of this room for being a creep. But I'm not doing that, am I? No. I'm waiting for you to make a decision. Either you stay and we make out. Or you leave and I hump a pillow."

His jaw dropped open, drawing your eyes to his lips.

"Up to you, Bob." You scooted closer to him, dropping your voice down low. "I'm waiting."

Before he could respond, you flinched. Your body recoiled from the door and towards the headboard.

"What's wrong?" Bob sounded panicked.

"Someone's having a nightmare. A bad one." You groaned. "It's a weird sensation feeling their anxiety whilst also being turned on."

Bob only looked at you for a second. "Will I make it better?"

You smiled at him, thankful he'd finally seemed to have caught on to the fact that he was the only thing that managed to soothe you. "You always make me better."

He softened, whole body relaxing as his face turned red with a different emotion. That's when he seemed to make up his mind, shuffling down so he was laying down again next to you and patting the spot directly in front of him. "Turn the light off."

"You sure?" You asked, already reaching for the lamp.

He nodded, sucking in a sharp breath as you settled down in front of him. You were suddenly face to face, but only for a moment as the next second the light was off and you were plunged into darkness again.

"Bob?"

"Yeah?"

"You're cute when you blush." You eased out a hand, gently cupping his cheek.

His own hand inched towards you under the blankets, fingertips grazing the fabric of your shirt. "I think you're the only person who thinks that."

"I find that unlikely. But if so then I'm happy to keep telling you."

"You're only saying that because you're turned on." He chuckled breathlessly. "Trying to get into my pants."

"Do I have to try?"

"No." His nose nudged against yours, steadily get closer and closer but not quite closing the gap.

You realised you were going to have to take that step. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes."

Bob was breathless before your lips met his, so when the collision finally happened it felt as if all oxygen had left him. But that didn't matter. He didn't need oxygen. All he needed was you.

You were gentle at first, testing the waters. But it only took about two seconds before Bob whined, the sound pulsing through you, so your mouth opened up like you'd lost control and your tongue swiped across his lips, teasing him. Bob's hands knotted into the front of your shirt, pulling you closer to him. His tongue curled against yours, a whimper leaving him.

You smiled into the kiss, thumb swiping over his cheek to keep it soft. You were overcome with lust but wanted the same mood that had floated between you and Bob up until this point. It didn't need to turn aggressive in any way now that you were taking it a step further. 

The hem of your shirt cut into your back as Bob's grip on it tightened, his feet pressing into yours so the two of you started playing footsie as you kissed. Bob tasted sweet, you noted, probably about as sweet as he was in general. You suckled his bottom lip into your mouth, revelling in the moan he let out. You pushed yourself closer to him, nose cramming against his cheek as his hair tickled your forehead. 

You pulled away from him to catch your breath, planting a quick kiss on his lips as he chased you. "Hm, slow down. We have time."

"Wanted this for so long." He admitted in the haze of passion that was swimming around the two of you.

The confession surprised you. "Oh, yeah?"

He backed up a little to look at you in the darkness as he gave an affirmative hum. That's when you felt it. The tingle on the back of your neck and the fuzziness behind your eyes. 

"What is that?" You asked, moving your face closer to him to get a better feel for it.

"What's what?" He sounded genuinely confused, voice kind as he asked.

"This new thing you keep feeling? Like a tingle on the back of the neck and a fuzz behind the eyes. What is it? I've never felt it before." 

The intensity you were looking at him with was amusing to Bob, how you seemed so unaware when usually it would be the other way around with the two of you. He knew exactly what you were referring to.

So he only smiled as he told you. "It's the feeling I get when I'm close to you."

Your breath got caught in your throat, eyes searching his in the dark to see how genuine he was being. When you detected nothing but honesty in his face, you dove forward and kissed him again. Despite your initial desire to keep it as relaxed as possible, you couldn't help the sudden craving you had for him. It was raw and primal, a yearning feeling.

Bob's pelvis rutted into yours, a reminder of the thing that got you into this position to begin with. He was still painfully hard and, based on the way you were feeling, that wasn't going to change any time soon. Your teeth and tongues clashed over and over, Bob making happy little noises at every press of your lips. He was insatiable, chasing you every time you decided the two of you needed to breathe. But he didn't seem to have the confidence to touch you anymore, not going any further than the vise like grip he still had on your shirt.

So you decided to make the move again. "Can I touch you?"

He nodded rapidly, his voice desperate. "Please."

The mewl of his voice was intoxicating, giving you permission to let your hand drift down the front of his torso. His abdomen was solid underneath his shirt but, as tempting as it was, you had another destination in mind. When you hit the waistband of his pants you paused, fingers toying with the strings that kept them fastened.

"Are you sure?" You asked, double checking that he was positive he wanted to take it this far.

He barely pulled away from your lips to answer. "Yes, I'm sure."

That was all you needed. You pulled on the string, undoing it, and let your hand slide into the front of his pants. You didn't have the patience to start with any over the clothes touching. Bob's size was somewhat surprising, he was big, which meant that your hand met the velvety skin of his cock pretty much as soon as you'd breached the waistline of his pants. He whimpered into your mouth at the feeling of the silky skin of your palm. 

He was keen, his body reacting immediately with a buck of his hips into your fist. You started with a slow pace, moving your hand up and down carefully to get a rhythm going. His precum worked well as a natural lubricant, making both your skin and his slick. It was only a reminder of the wetness between your own legs. But that thought escaped you pretty quickly when Bob continued to make pretty little sounds into your mouth. He throbbed in your hand, pace of his thrusts increasing when you tightened your grip. 

You kept kissing him, shivering as the feeling of his arousal travelled through you as well. An overwhelming curiosity was plaguing you as you wondered whether you'd feel it when he eventually came. That became less important when Bob's hands finally untangled from your shirt and one of them crept up the plains of your torso to start groping your chest through your shirt. You moaned into his mouth, hand momentarily stilling in place. That didn't last long when he whined into your mouth, a mumble begging for more leaving him.

Your fist pumped his cock harder and faster, drawing him closer and closer to orgasm.

"Come on, pretty boy. I know you're close."

He whimpered at the name you'd given him, the fact that he liked praise was something you quickly noted in your head. Bob kissed you harder, the desperation for closeness evident.

It didn't take much longer before he started twitching in your hand, hot ropes of cum spurting out of him and landing on the sheets between you. You pumped him a few more times, milking him for everything he was worth. A train of whimpers and moans tumbled out of mouth, filling the space between you, as his eyes scrunched shut with pleasure. You kissed him through it, wanting to keep him close as you were feeling his orgasm yourself. The feeling rocketed through you, a sense of ecstasy as it poured out of Bob and into you. Your prediction was right, you did indeed feel it when he did. This was a new development to your gift that had you curious. 

Once he'd calmed down from the high, Bob's eyes blinked open again as he looked at you. "I'm- I'm sorry."

You frowned. "Why are you sorry?"

"Because I- and you didn't-" He cut himself off, distressed. "I thought we were going to-"

You eyed the mess on the sheets between you. "Believe me, what just happened is not an issue."

"Are you still... feeling it?"

"Kind of. Less so now that you've come. But I'm still horny. Especially after that." You sighed. "Can we keep kissing?"

Bob wasn't sure why you'd even asked. It wasn't like there was any scenario where he'd say no to that. So he nodded at you, assuming that your eyes had adjusted enough to the dark to see him. He was right. You manoeuvred yourself over the mess on the sheets and hovered yourself over him.

He looked up at you, the sparkle from before twinkling in his eyes. He finally allowed himself to touch you, not realising that he'd groped you in the heat of the moment before, and placed his hands on your hips before letting them skate up your waist, then your rib cage, before going over your shoulders and letting them land on either side of your face. Then he pulled you down to kiss him. 

You weren't sure how long that went on for exactly, only really aware of anything other than Bob existing when he'd asked whether you wanted to change your bed sheets. You'd only told him it could wait until the morning and that the two of you would just have to stick to his side of the bed. At some point his hands had drifted below your waistline, drawing your own orgasm from you. It surprised you how adept he was at it, but you figured he had a past long before you'd even met him. 

What surprised you both was Bob had moaned as you did, blinking in shock as you came.

"I felt that." He stated, mouth hanging open.

"What do you mean?" You asked, still breathless from the orgasm. 

"I felt that." He repeated.

A frown wrinkled your brows. "You mean... like how I feel things?"

"I think so."

That was another thing that had never happened until Bob.

"I didn't know that was possible." You thought about it for a second before shrugging. "Another thing for tomorrow."

And then you kept kissing him. That went on for a while until the two of you grew sleepy, eventually drifting off in each other's arms.

When you woke up the next morning you found yourself intertwined with Bob, limbs tangled together. You hummed happily and snuggled closer to him. 

"G'morning." He grumbled into your ear.

You smiled at the sound of his voice and turned your head to look at him. "Good morning. You're awake before me."

"Shocking, I know." He huffed, hand stroking up and down the length of your arm.

"What's the time?"

"A little after nine."

Your eyes widened and you shot out of bed, scrambling to find your robe. "Shit, it's late."

Bob followed you out of bed, feeling bad that he'd let you sleep in. But you had just looked so peaceful. "Sorry, I should've woken you."

"No, don't apologise." You beamed at him. "Shouldn't apologise for the way I slept."

He watched you slide a pair of socks on. "How'd you sleep?"

"Good." You grinned. "The best. You?"

"Good too."

You huffed. "You always sleep good."

There was a moment of silence before Bob seemed to decide what he was going to say.

"Do you want to know why I sleep so easily?"

You nodded, always just figuring the amnesia that came with what happened to him meant that he just didn't have bad dreams. 

"Because I dream about you." He confessed quietly. "Even when I'm not having sex dreams."

Your shoulders hunched as your skin prickled with the burn of self-consciousness. There was no way he was telling the truth. "Really?"

"I spend my days thinking about you and my nights dreaming about you." He chuckled shakily. "Even though we spend every second of every day together, I can think of nothing but you. It consumes me. You consume me."

Tears welled in your eyes. "For how long?"

"For as long as I've known you pretty much." He shrugged. "It's been very difficult sleeping next to you for these past few weeks and not telling you."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because you needed me to sleep. And I was scared that you didn't feel the same way so you'd- you'd push me away and go back to restless nights." His hands started wringing together, a telltale sign of his nerves.

You choked out a teary laugh. "How could you ever think I didn't feel the same? Why do you think I spend so much time with you? Why I can't sleep unless I'm next to you?"

"My emotions calm you."

You shook your head. "You make me calm. There's something about you. There always has been. You make me feel things that nobody else ever has. I've experienced new emotions with you. As well as more feelings."

He smiled at the reference to what the two of you had done the night before. "So, what now?"

"What now?" You chortled as you repeated his words back to him. "Now you kiss me and we never stop."

Bob didn't need to be told twice.

The team noticed the moment the switch in yours and Bob's relationship flipped. All it took was one simple gesture. The group of you had been in the kitchen together, chatting about nothing in particular and Bob had been looking at you with a gooey look in his eyes as usual. But then you'd reached up, brushing a lock of hair away from his eyes. 

They all knew then that you'd finally taken the step towards being officially more than friends. None of them pointed it out, exchanging nothing but pleased looks with each other and enjoying the fact that neither you nor Bob seemed to be aware that the rest of them now all knew about the two of you. They weren't entirely sure that either of you cared if they knew.

And when later that evening you rested your head on Bob's shoulder during movie night, and he not very subtly grabbed your hand, they realised that the two of you definitely didn't care if they knew. You only seemed to care about each other in that moment.

[sour-cherryyy]

NONSENSE. 〜Ni-ki

Pairing: idol!Ni-ki x idol!reader. Summary: After finishing a performance at a show, you struggle to buy a drink from a vending machine. But, Ni-ki notices and offers to help, sparking a charming and slightly awkward conversation between two idols meeting for the first time. Word count: 800 words. A/n: fluff?? Also, this is so so short but I'm desperate to post something before I back out of this whole posting idea. 🙊 Now playing: "Nonsense" By Sabrina Carpenter.

---------------------------------------------------------˚✿🧸

The hum of fluorescent lights fills the backstage hallway. You’re still a little dazed from the rush of it all- no matter times you attend these music shows, you can never get used to it. Your heart still fluttered from the cheering fans, the flashing lights, and the fast-paced dance choreography.  

Not long had passed since you got off stage, and after monitoring your performance, you now have a simpler mission at hand: getting a drink from the vending machine. 

You shift your wallet under your arm and fumble for the coins. They clink in your palm, warm and small against the cold air of the hallway. You bend toward the machine, trying to slot one into the coin slot, but your - longer than you’re used to- nails get in the way. 

"Ugh," you mutter under your breath, trying again. The coin slips and bounces off the machine with a tiny, mocking ping. 

"Need help?" 

The voice is quiet, deep but soft, and you glance up, startled. There, just a few feet away, stands Ni-ki. He’s tall. Like really tall. Which makes you realise you’ve never seen him this up-close before. 

Your breath catches. He’s prettier in person. He takes a step closer, you spot his mic hanging off his shoulder. His hair is damp at the ends, probably from post-performance sweat, and his eyes are smiling. 

You blink and pause for a moment too long, only speaking when he tilts his head slightly to the side. "Uh... yeah. These nails are a nightmare."

He steps closer, holding out a hand. "Here, I got it." 

You hesitate, then drop the coins into his palm, your fingers brushing his briefly. He slots them into the machine with casual ease, presses a button, and the machine clunks to life. 

"Thanks," you say, cheeks warm. 

"No problem," he replies, stepping forward as the can drops. "Nice nails, though." 

You smile as he grabs the drink. "Nice to look at, terrible for vending machines." 

He chuckles and passes you the can. For a moment, there’s silence. The hallway seems to dim around the edges, as though it knows something subtle is taking place. 

"I like your new song." he says abruptly. 

You shake your head trying to stay humble. "Thank you. I really like your group although I haven’t listened to your new release." You internally cringe at your honesty when it was so unnecessary. 

"Oh, really?" He chuckles. 

You look down, and he dips his head lower trying to catch your eye. Your cheeks are a vibrant red that is hard to miss. "Well, you should give it a listen." 

"I promise I will. But I do love your songs. And I’m sure I'll love your new one. I rarely think songs are bad- not that your song will be bad or is bad but... none of your songs are bad. Well at least the ones I've listened to-" You let out a frustrated huff and try to recollect yourself from the nonsense you just spewed. “I'm sorry, I'm not usually this awkward, I promise” 

You look up to see him grinning from ear to ear. "I’ll wait on the review." He teases. 

There’s an ease to him, a surprising gentleness behind the confident stage persona you saw just a minute ago. You can't help but find yourself smiling despite the embarrassing rambling you just did. 

"Well," he says, after a pause, "if your nails keep you from buying drinks in the future, you might need someone on call." 

You arch a brow. "Are you offering your services?" 

He shrugs, his grin mischievous. "Could be. You have a phone?" 

You blink again, slower this time, pulse fluttering a little more deliberately. "Yeah." 

You hand it over, watching as he types in his number and sends himself a message. 

"Now you have mine," he says, handing it back. "In case of vending emergencies." 

Your laugh echoes softly through the hallway. "I’ll try not to abuse the privilege." 

He glances down the hallway as a staff member calls his name. "I should go. But... it was nice meeting you." 

"You too… really nice." 

And then he’s gone, walking away with a casual wave, the distance between you slowly expanding until he turns the corner. 

---------------------------------------------------------

Back in your dorm, hours later, you’re already in your pajamas, the world is quiet, and the memory of the day settles over you. As soon as your head hits the pillow, all you can think about is the embarrassing word vomit you chocked up to such a handsome man. The scene replays over and over in your head as you examine what you could've done differently. 

Just then your phone buzzes. 

Unknown Number: Did the nails give you any more trouble? - Ni-ki 

You smile to yourself, cheeks warm again. 

You text back. 

ME: Nails-1 me-0 🙁. 

Maybe the interaction wasn’t so bad after all. 

---------------------------------------------------------

Sooo that was my first Ni-ki post!! I'm open to any constructive criticism as I'm not a writer and the only previous writing experience I have is from my English lessons in secondary school lol. If you liked this please consider leaving a comment or engaging with this post in anyway. Thank you so much for making it to the end, -EL

[martian-astro10]

Career....stuff- part 1 (whole signs)

Note: the career observations will contain a mix of vedic and tropical, do not apply the persona chart observations to the divisional charts and vice versa.

Saturn in Libra, Taurus, Aquarius, or Capricorn in either d9 or d10 indicates being extremely successful in your chosen career. If this Saturn is in the first house then the success might be delayed or it could also be that you don't get much support from the people around you so whatever you end up doing, has to be done from the ground up and therefore takes much more time and effort.

Jupiter in 2nd or 8th house in either the Saturn or MC persona chart means you'll earn A LOT of money through your career. I was going through celebrities' charts and was genuinely surprised to see how many had this, like 60/75.

Another thing I observed was, celebrities who faced many scandals and still managed to deal with them and come out unscathed had Jupiter in 1st, 4th, or 10th in their Saturn or MC persona chart. This is like a "self made person" placement, so people who are more privileged than you might try to drag you down.

10th lord of d1 being exalted or in its own sign in d10= 💲💰🤑💸, like for real. This placement is like a blessing from God. I actually lost count of how many "beloved" people have this. You could be bad at your job, get into scandals, have a shit personality, doesn't matter, this placement will protect you. Especially if exalted.

Jupiter in 5th in d10 is another placement that makes you well liked by others. They're not as scrutinized by the public as others, and can get away with a lot of stuff. It's actually a very lucky placement to have, especially for someone who wants to pursue something where they'll have to interact with a lot of people.

Stelliums in MC and Saturn persona chart are SO IMPORTANT, I cannot emphasize this enough. If you have a stellium then the sign is literally how people will perceive you in your career and how you'll be remembered, it doesn't even matter if it's true or not, and that actually sucks. (Martha Stewart has a stellium in Gemini, the woman is literally called a media mogul. Beyonce has a libra and scorpio stellium, some people think she's the sweetest, very charming and one of the best singers in the world and the other half thinks that she's in a cult and plans murders of those she's in a competition with so....yeah)

Moon in 6th in d10 is such a "hardworking perfectionist" placement, and you'll be known as such. These people are the type to do everything alone in a group project because they don't like the way other people do things. Working under others does not yield good results for them. I'm gonna be honest, I rarely see these people achieving the same level of success as they actually deserve. People end up stealing their ideas and taking credit for their work, so I would suggest you all to keep everything that you're doing a secret.

10th lord of d1 or d10 in 3rd house of d10 is a good actor placement, almost all the highly acclaimed actors have this. If not acting, then any other career related to mass communication would be good for you and bring success and praise.

Jupiter in Capricorn in d10 can indicate a lot of obstacles in your career, people may constantly try to sabotage you. This placement also makes it very hard to save money. Expenditure will always be more than income.

Moon mars conjunction in Aries, leo, Pisces or Sagittarius in d9 is a GREAT placement, and one that has the ability to make you very rich and successful. It can bring benefits related to marriage as well. A spouse that will respect you and make you happy and a career that will help you achieve all your dreams and desires. The conjunction should not be in the 7th house though. Moon mars conjunction in other signs is still good for career but can bring negative effects in regards to marriage.

Divider by @cursed-carmine

© martian-astro10 All rights reserved, 2025

[callsign-fox]

Late Night Arrival - Bob/Sentry

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry x Fem!Reader/Superhero

Technically the next part to Over My Head, but can be read on it's own!

Warnings: 18+ / Oral / Sex

You guys have been loving all my Bob content, thank you so much for all the positive feedback!

The rooftop of the Compound was quiet, save for the low hum of cooling Quinjet engines and the whisper of wind that tugged at the edges of the landing pad. Overhead, the sky unfurled in a wide, endless stretch. Below them, the Compound slept. Construction vehicles sat idle, shadows pooled at their feet, and the faint glow from interior windows flickered. 

Y/N stepped off the Quinjet first, her boots striking the metal with a dull, resolute thud. Bob followed close behind, his own steps slower, heavier, like he was giving her space—or maybe bracing himself. He didn’t speak. Just trailed her to the rooftop access door, his presence solid, steady, a quiet shadow at her back.

Neither of them said a word.

Not until she stopped at the doorway, one hand resting on the handle. She turned, expression unreadable, but the slight arch of her brow and the way her arms crossed over her chest made the statement all on its own.

“You know,” she said dryly, “you’re not what I expected when Sam warned me about you.”

Bob folded his arms across his broad chest, brow lifting with amusement. “Let me guess—less finesse, more charm?”

She snorted. “Less brain cells, more muscles.”

He pressed a hand to his chest, mock-offended. “Ouch.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It hummed between them like a live wire—taut, electric, with something sharp coiled underneath. 

“You want to know something?” he asked, voice low.

She shifted, leaning back against the concrete wall with a smirk. “I bet you’re going to tell me even if I say no.”

He stepped closer. Just a little. Just enough that she could feel the heat radiating off of him. “I could take you right here, right now,” he said, pointing to the very wall she leaned on. “Right against that.”

Her smirk widened—dangerous, slow, all teeth. “That supposed to be a threat? Because it sounds like a great time to me.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice dropped another octave, a dark rasp that shivered along her spine.

“Fucking on the roof,” she murmured, gaze raking over him like a weapon. “Sounds like fun.”

His jaw tensed, sharp and tight. “You’ve got a real mouth on you.”

She tilted her head, unapologetic. “You gonna do something about it?”

A beat of tension cracked the air between them—and then he moved.

One hand fisted the back of her thigh, the other splayed across her ass, pulling her into him like he couldn’t stand the space anymore. His mouth crashed into hers—brutal, searing, all grit and hunger and pent-up frustration. Fingers clawed at fabric, catching on the edges of armor plates. Her hands yanked at his collar, dragging him down, meeting his ferocity with her own.

There was no romance. Just heat and chaos, desperation masquerading as dominance. Their teeth clashed, tongues tangled, both of them battle-worn and raw, their kiss tasting of adrenaline and something darker. 

She kissed him like it was war—deliberate, merciless, until he shoved her harder against the wall, pressing his body flush to hers. She gasped into his mouth, her breath caught on the edge of a moan.

When they finally pulled apart, their chests heaved in unison, foreheads resting together, lips swollen and red.

His mouth dragged along her jaw, down the line of her throat, and then he looked up, voice rough.

“Had to shut you up somehow.”

She grinned, sharp and triumphant, then caught his bottom lip between her teeth, tugging gently. Her hand slipped between them, trailing down the front of his suit until it rested right where he was already hard for her.

Her voice was nothing but silk and steel. “Looks like I win.”

His breath hitched against her neck as her hand stayed right where it was, palm firm over the bulge in his suit. For a second, he just looked at her—eyes dark and a little bit wild.

“Are we gonna do this now?” he asked, voice thick and strained. “Because I’m growing impatient.”

She arched a brow, the slow curl of her smile doing unspeakable things to him. Her fingers pressed just a little harder, teasing. “Tempting. Really.”

Then she leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear as she whispered, “But there are, like, six cameras pointed right at us right now. If exhibitionism’s your thing, be my guest.”

Bob paused—visibly wrestling between the fire raging in him and the idea of the Avengers watching him screw their most powerful asset on the rooftop. He exhaled slowly through his nose, jaw tight.

“Why don’t you show me your room, then?” he said, his hand still on her hip, fingers twitching with restraint.

She hummed, amused. “Why don’t we just get back on the plane…”

She leaned back so he could see the spark in her eyes, the wicked twist to her mouth.

“…and go somewhere no eyes or ears can follow. Just you, me, and whatever happens next.”

He stared at her for a beat, then he smirked. “Lead the way.”

She turned on her heel, cool and collected like she hadn’t just kissed the breath out of him, and walked back toward the Quinjet with a saunter that was very, very intentional.

He followed, silently vowing that once they were in the air, there’d be no more holding back.

~

The trees surrounded them in silence—tall, dark, ancient things standing like sentinels as the moonlight filtered through the branches. It was quiet here. Still. No cameras. No eyes. No ears. Just the soft rustle of leaves, the distant hum of nature, and the sharp, electric tension pulsing between them.

Bob pressed her back against the rough bark of a tree, hands planted on either side of her head, caging her in. His eyes searched hers—heated, hungry, but waiting. Waiting for that last sliver of permission.

She didn’t give it with words.

She hooked a hand around the back of his neck, pulled him in, and kissed him like she meant to ruin him.

That was all it took.

His mouth crushed hers again, his body pinning her to the tree, hips already grinding into hers like he’d been starving for this—for her. She gasped into his mouth, fingers brushing down his chest to his stomach, then he knelt down in front of her. 

She looked down, breath ragged, as he lifted her leg and placed it over his shoulder, mouth hot and open against her inner thigh. He didn’t rush—no, he took his damn time. Licked up slowly, deliberately, watching her the whole time until she cursed and grabbed a fistful of his hair.

“Don’t tease me,” she snapped.

He smirked. “Not teasing. Memorizing.”

And then he buried his mouth between her legs, groaning like she was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

She bit her bottom lip, hard, head falling back against the tree as his tongue dragged through her folds, slow and deep, until her knees buckled. One arm braced against the bark, the other still tangled in his hair, she moaned his name, low and raw.

He worked her like he already knew every part of her—alternating pressure, speed, tongue and lips and just enough of his fingers to have her gasping, thighs trembling. Her orgasm hit fast and hard, the tension snapping like a cord pulled too tight, and she cried out, hips bucking against his face.

He stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes heavy with lust.

“I want you inside of me,” she purred, voice wrecked.

He thrust into her in one hard, perfect motion, and they both groaned at the contact—skin on skin, raw and unfiltered. The tree scraped against her back, rough and grounding, while he drove into her like he couldn’t get deep enough.

He fucked her like he meant it—fast, desperate, hard enough to rattle the air from her lungs. Each thrust sent her higher, pushed her further, her cries echoing in the darkness, and still, he didn’t let up. His mouth found her shoulder, her throat, her lips—biting, kissing, gasping her name like a prayer.

“God, you feel—fuck,” he choked out, forehead dropping to hers.

She grabbed his jaw, forced his gaze back to hers. “Don’t you dare stop.”

And he didn’t.

They came apart together, her nails digging into his back, his teeth biting down on her shoulder as he spilled inside her, both of them trembling, breathless, still pressed against the tree.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Just the sound of their breathing, the wind, the forest holding its breath.

Then she smirked, lips brushing his ear. “Told you getting back on the plane was a good idea.”

He laughed, voice wrecked. “Best decision I’ve ever made.”

[revlw]

The way I rushed to your requests when I found out they were open😭 your writing made me giggle and kick my feet you are SO talented

Anyways! Can I please request (if it’s okay with you) a Yandere team-up with Chance and Elliot (forsaken)? They’re both head over heels for the reader and so they decide to work together..

Headcanons are fine!! Make sure to drink lots of water and take care of yourself!!

𓏵 LUCKY STRIKE

YAN! PAYCHECK X READER

Warning ! : Obsessive behavior , yandere themes , manipulation , possesive dynamics , mild stalking elements , potential gaslighting

Note ! : AAAAAA TYSM !!!! this means a lot to me truly! And I think Im KINDA bad ab headcanons so so its kinda a one shot???….,,,, I HOPE U LIKE IT!!!

Chance notices you first, but not in any dramatic way. He sees the way you hesitate near the fire, uncertain. The way you laugh too quickly when someone jokes, trying to fit in.

He likes that you don’t yet know the game. People like that are interesting. Predictable in some ways—naive—but also capable of surprising him. And Chance loves surprises.

He starts approaching you slowly. Playfully. Nothing alarming.

“You know, you keep standing by that tree like you’re expecting it to save you from a killer.”

You laugh. It’s easy to laugh around him. He makes it easy.

Elliot notices too. Not your laugh, not your smile—your fear. The way your hands tremble just slightly when you hear the killer’s scream. The way you fumble with a generator. The way you linger near others for safety.

He doesn’t say anything to you. He just… starts watching.

At first, he’s near you by accident. Or at least, that’s what it looks like.

You blow a generator? Elliot’s already nearby to cover for you.

Get knocked down? He’s the first to pick you up, silent, efficient.

You thank him. He nods once.

He doesn’t ask for anything in return.

Not yet.

It’s subtle.

Chance starts treating you like a game. Not a cruel one—but a test. A series of probabilities and risks. He bets you small things:

“Want me to boost you to that ledge? Let’s flip for it. But if I win, you owe me a secret.”

“Heads, we take the long way. Tails, we sneak past the killer.”

You laugh, roll your eyes. But you play along. It becomes habit.

He always seems to win, somehow.

Elliot, meanwhile, watches who you talk to. Watches how you smile at certain survivors. Watches when you flinch. He doesn’t say anything when you start trusting Chance more—but he watches him, too.

He starts intervening. Slightly.

That one round when you and Chance are paired together? Elliot joins too. He doesn’t speak, but he’s always just there, between you and a threat. Or between you and Chance.

They begin to notice each other.

At first, Chance thinks Elliot is just… hovering. A protective type. He finds it amusing.

“Silent knight,” he jokes to you once. “Pretty sure he’d throw himself in front of a trap for you.”

You glance at Elliot. He doesn’t deny it. Just tilts his head, quiet. Still watching.

Chance narrows his eyes. It’s not funny anymore.

Elliot doesn’t like how Chance makes you laugh. He doesn’t like how close he stands to you, how his voice drops when you’re alone together.

But Elliot is patient. He doesn’t act on impulse.

He waits. Watches. Calculates.

The Shift.

It’s during a brutal round—Jason, maybe, or c00lkidd. You get separated. Alone, bleeding, hiding behind a rock.

They both find you at the same time.

Chance crouches beside you, all charm, coaxing words:

“Hey, hey, easy. You’re alright. Just a scratch. Let me help, yeah?”

Elliot is silent, but his hands are already pulling out a medkit. His expression is unreadable, his eyes locked on him—not you.

Chance smirks.

“Oh, sure. You can patch her up if you want. I’ll just hold her still.”

The way he says it makes your stomach twist. You smile, nervously. Neither of them does.

They both fix you. Carefully. Silently. But the air between them is sharp.

From that moment, something changes.

They don’t argue anymore. They start working together.

Chance engages you with warmth and wit. Elliot handles logistics—watching your back, offering tools, helping you silently.

You barely get time alone. Not because they’re obvious, but because they’re coordinated.

One distracts while the other circles in. One keeps you smiling, the other keeps you safe.

And slowly, the others fall away.

Survivors avoid you—either pushed out, subtly sabotaged, or scared off. You never notice the pattern.

But soon, it’s just you and them. Always.

Chance manipulates the social side of things. He always has an excuse to talk to you.

“Hey, come with me. Safer in pairs, right?”

He makes you feel like choosing him is your idea.

He studies you like a strategist studies the board—tracking your fears, your preferences, even how fast your heart beats when he leans close.

If you ever question why people avoid you now, he shrugs with a smile.

“Maybe they’re jealous. I mean, you’ve got two of the best keeping you safe. Who wouldn’t be?”

Elliot doesn’t try to win you over with charm. He builds a quiet, unshakable presence in your life.

You fall, he’s there. You’re in danger, he’s already moving. You cry, he passes you a handkerchief without a word.

He starts taking things from you—not objects, but choices.

You don’t need to fix that generator. He already did it.

You don’t need to ask for help. He’s already beside you.

He never pressures you. But he’s always watching. Always waiting.

And over time, you start to rely on him. You trust him.

That’s all he ever wanted.

They talk when you’re not around. Quiet, tense meetings.

“They looked tired today.”

“I’ll handle it. You just keep them entertained.”

They don’t like each other. Not really.

But their shared obsession keeps them in orbit. And if either one of them ever steps out of line, the other is watching.

Because in the end, their goal is the same:

Keep you safe. Keep you close. Keep you theirs.

@revlw 2025

[yanadolls]

PASSIONATE FROM MILES AWAY ⊹ ࣪ ˖

||| FEATURING: NAGI SEISHIRO X FEM READER

||| 18+, MDNI ── .✦ exchanged nudes, phone sex, video sex, petnames (good girl, angel, sweet girl), cursing, praising, fingering

||| SUMMARY: you've been in an online relationship with nagi for two years, and after today's long soccer game, what better way to spend his night then calling with his cute girlfriend?

you groaned as you curled up in your bed, alone in your apartment. you kept checking discord to see if your boyfriend nagi had come online yet, and checking imessages to see if he read any of your texts.

nothing.

"ugh!"

just as you were about to send a complaint to your best friend about how long your boyfriend was taking to come back from his game, which ended an hour and a half ago, a sudden notification that lit up your screen had your heart leaping with joy.

sei: hi baby :x

excitedly, you immediately clicked on the notification, happy that your lover was finally back. once you were in chat, you clicked on the phone icon and started up a call with nagi, to which he accepted within the first ring. his sleepy yet slightly rough voice made a smile come to your lips, falling back against your mattress as your phone laid in your hand idly. it was difficult sometimes for the both of you since you had been dating online when you both were reliant on touch, but the hope of someday meeting up and living together made it all the more worth it. after all, you both were in your 20s, so soon enough you would be in a physical relationship, right?

"hi baby!" you said with an obvious amount of elation in your voice. it made even the nonchalant nagi smile- you were so cute.

"hi, sweet girl." he yawned, "did you watch my game? i scored a goal for you even though it was kind of a hassle showing off.."

so lazy all the time, wasnt he? it only added to his charm, you thought. of course you had seen his game, and you'd be lying if you said he wasn't hot running around the field, sweat clinging to his forehead and muscles.

"of course i did. you played amazing, sei... missed you so much while you were gone, though."

"missed you, too."

there was a silence over the phone for a moment, before shuffling could be heard on nagi's side, and a sigh leaving his lips. his voice was a bit more lower as he spoke.

"can you send me nudes?"

the sudden question had you almost choking on air, a heat rushing to both your cheeks and in between your legs. he was as blunt as ever, and it flustered you.

"s-seishiro! you can't just..ask that so suddenly!"

the pout on his face could practically be heard through the microphone.

"can't i? we're dating and it's not like i haven't seen you naked before.."

"that's not the point!"

"please, angel...need to see your pretty pussy so badly. won't you reward me for winning my game today?"

a tension started forming over the phone as you felt your breathing labor a bit, plushy thighs clenching together at what thoughts could be going through your sweet boyfriend's mind. his words made a knot form in your stomach, and your decision was easily made.

"fine..okay. i'll send you something.. as long as you send something in return?"

"good girl." he hummed, "and anything for you."

you opened up your private snaps that you had taken a couple days ago for nagi, cringing a bit at the lewd photos. in one of them it was a mirror selfie of you sitting on the edge of your bed in a cute pair of lingerie, while the other two photos were your fingers playing with your clit. you saved the three photos again before selecting them to send to nagi, a shaky sigh of embarrassment leaving your lips before you hit sent. when the photos loaded, a groan was picked up on your boyfriend's end.

"fuck.. you're so sexy, baby. why do you have to be so far from me? 's such a hassle beating my dick when you could be here doing it for me."

your lip trembled at his words, hand snaking down to gently rub your clit through your already dampening panties. you could hear nagi breathing heavily on his side, his large hand fumbling to tug down his shorts and pull out his hardening cock, giving it lazy tugs.

"too lazy to send a pic..lemme just turn on my camera."

as promised, only a couple seconds later his camera began loading, and you were greeted with the delicious sight of his thick cock being stroked slowly up and down. it made your mouth and pussy water. it simply wasn't fair how fucking huge nagi was, and he didn't even realize how much of a flex it was either!

"s-shit, sei.. y'so big.."

you could see his dick twitch a bit at your words, his hand pumping his huge dick a bit faster. being an egoist at the end of the day, your words did wonders to his pride.

"turn on your camera, please. wanna see your pretty face and body in real time."

forgetting your initial embarrassment, you tapped the button to turn on your camera, giving him a small flustered smile before flipping the camera to aim at your bare thighs, cute lacey panties tugged to the side. nagi moaned lowly at the sight.

"take it off fully. be a good girl and fuck yourself for me."

only you got to see this side of nagi- horny, passionate, and needy. your eyes stayed glued on his own camera as your thighs trembled, sliding your panties off before parting more for him to see. your free hand went down to rub your nub, then you slid your dainty fingers between your pussy's lips, collecting your own juices. nagi hummed.

"such a beautiful girl you are. wish you were here right now, would fuck you so good.."

"s-sei.. please.. want that so bad. need you to fuck me.."

two fingers dipped into your hole as a soft moan left your lips, focus faltering for a moment before bringing your attention back to see that nagi was already leaking with precum.

"fuuuck.. such a hassle being online.. m'gonna fly you out next week. give you the time of your life."

you couldn't tell if the lazy soccer player was just saying that in a moment of heat, or if he genuinely meant it. either way, your fingers moved faster, walls clenching around them at the mere thought of being pounded by your taller, stronger boyfriend. as nagi continued whispering more praises and dirty things, you felt yourself nearing release and with the way the white haired boy was breathing a bit faster, it was obvious he was gonna cum soon as well.

"ah..sei! gonna, ahh.. gonna cum!"

"me too, angel. ugh..gimme a show, baby. cum for me."

you didn't need to be told twice. at his desperate, low words, the knot in your stomach tightened, and with a loud moan you came down on your fingers, gushing all over them. nagi quickly followed after, nutting in a tissue he lazily reached out and grabbed. after a moment of catching your breathes, your cameras came off and nagi spoke softly, out of breath.

"..mean it, baby. i'm gonna fly you out next week. need you by my side too badly.. wanna cuddle and kiss you."

a tired smile came to your lips as your highs wore out.

"i'm so excited to finally see you, love. it'll be the best day of my life."

despite what others may say about nagi seishiro, he was a sweet boyfriend to you and always stuck by his word. after a bit of cleaning up and a small conversation, you both fell asleep easy on the phone. you made sure to set a reminder to pack your bags in the next couple days, as well <3

AN: first time writing LOL i couldn't stop giggling, hope u enjoy though ♡

[your-reference-here]

Ten years ago, I found a lamp.

It was a simple thing. No etchings, no jewels, just a small little brass lamp sitting at the back of a dusty antiques shop. Some deep, wordless curiosity tickled my mind and kept me fixated on it for a solid three minutes before I finally decided to purchase it.

Imagine my surprise when, after giving the thing a proper cleaning with a rag, a genie appeared before me. In that moment I believed I understood where that curiosity came from. This being, wrapped in silks and smoke, must have called to me.

And what a being they were. A smooth voice paired well with a charming smile to fixate me in a heartbeat. Beautiful felt like an understatement—ethereal came to mind. That was as far as my thoughts went before this being began to theatrically explain the deal of the lamp:

"You get three wishes, but there are rules. Rule number one," they began, raising a finger, "you can't wish for immortality. At best I can promise is that you'll live as long as I do, and frankly, I don't know how long a genie lives. I could die immediately upon granting your wishes. Something something magical rebirth to reset the magic after three if someone new doesn't call upon me first. Never did get the chance to ask my creator for clarification on that before they were run through. Anyway..."

The rest of the rules were straightforward enough after that. Upon completion of the spiel, the genie settled back into their smoke and fixed me with an expectant look. As I stared back, be it because a brief slip of the mask or my own intuition, I saw a glimpse of the soul. This being was stuck in the perpetual darkness of this lamp waiting to hear the heart's desires of another for centuries. I saw in that moment a loneliness reflected back at me that I recognized within myself.

I knew what my first wish would be, I declared, and stepped forward. The genie leaned in casually, arms crossed and awaiting my command. I hesitated at the closer proximity for a moment, swallowed, and then spoke my first wish.

The genie's eyebrow raised, very, very slowly.

"You're sure?" they asked. I nodded, and my wish was granted.

-----------

"You know," my companion said around a mouthful of pizza, "when you made that first wish all those years ago, I worried you had some nefarious things in mind."

I glanced over from across the couch and raised a brow. They shrugged.

"No one has asked for my company before, let alone for ten years. And in the guise of a mortal at that. Can't complain when I get to enjoy this though." They then sighed contently around another bite of pizza.

I stared. It had only been a month, but my new roommate had settled in like this place had been their home for years already. They spent a millennia in a brass lamp—the object in question was tucked safely out of sight now—but now with the world truly at their disposal they wasted no time taking in all its "wonders", as they called them. The aged architecture of the corner of our building. The weeds fighting their way up through the cracks in the sidewalk on the way to the store. The taste of a slice of a frozen pizza brand. All these mundane things were a joy to behold for them, and witnessing those moments of joy were a joy for me too.

----------

"Halfway there."

I looked up from the opened cardboard box in front of me. They set down another one on the table, a little battered from the move but sturdy. Their eyes remained fixed on the box as they cut the tape to retrieve its contents.

"Five years as of today," they said, now glancing over at me. "Five more to go. I think it's gone pretty well so far myself. What do you think?"

I let the question sit for a moment. The space around me was warm and brimming with possibility. The contents of the box before me held memories of our journey so far. Some were sad, and some were angry, but without them the happy moments wouldn't feel as sweet upon reflection. Each wove a beautiful thread into our shared story as colorful as the silks my partner wore when we first met.

I wouldn't change a thing. I said so, and they smiled.

"Neither would I."

----------

The lamp sat on the table before both of us. Today was the ten year anniversary of the beginning of our journey. It felt surreal.

"I don't regret it," my love said, taking my hand. "In all the years I've existed in this world, none of them have ever been as precious to me as the ten I've shared with you. If you asked for ten more I wouldn't hesitate to grant them."

I squeezed their hand and smiled sadly. We had already talked about this countless times. This wish's boon was a temporary one, and another like it would be the same. I couldn't stomach the thought of forcing them to live alongside me as I aged, knowing that in the end they would return to their life of magical solitude once their mortal time was done.

So, for now, we simply decided to let the wish run its course. Their hand slipped from mine back to smoke as they returned to the lamp. I breathed in deep, and then reached out to rub it.

My genie appeared before me as they had ten years ago, ethereal in silks and smoke, and smiled a bittersweet smile down at me.

"You have two wishes left, but there are rules." They continued on into the first of their rules, but part way through I froze. They stopped, noticing, and waited. Hearing that first rule about immortality again brought back what they had said the first time. It was an offhand comment, a joke, but now I realized that it could be our solution.

I knew what my next wish would be. I took in a breath, and then spoke it forth: I wished to live as long as they did, however long that might be.

My genie stared down at me. There was no raised eyebrow this time, just a look of genuine surprise. "You're sure?"

I nodded.

"But...what if you decide to use your third wish? Or what if you lose the lamp and someone else calls on me?"

The answer to the first question would have been to simply never use the wish, but the second question gave me pause. I would have to be vigilant. There could be no mistake, because even a small one could mean the end of us both at the hands of another. I couldn't assume that would never happen, and that scared me more than anything. It was a risk neither of us could control.

But the third wish...that was something we could.

----------

My genie and I decided to postpone the second wish so we could talk it and the final wish over. We took three days, an irony neither of us missed at the end, to research and discuss and iron things out, and there were plenty of twists and turns through logic and emotion both. In the end, it came down to the simple fact that neither of us wanted to be parted.

My second wish would remain the same.

My third wish, in theory, would work. In theory.

I looked at my genie. They looked at me.

My wishes were granted.

----------

"I think this is my favorite iteration so far. Can we keep it this way for a while?"

I glance up from my book to see my genie inspecting a frankly gaudy looking little lamp now sitting on our living room table. It's covered in etchings and jewels, a far cry from the simple lamp I bought from that dusty antique shop all those years ago.

I raise an eyebrow, very, very slowly.

My genie sighs. "Fine. Come up with three more wishes then so we can see what it turns into next."

I roll my eyes and smile as I place my book on the couch next to me.

Ten years ago, I found a lamp. Since then, it has been reborn a number of times, and I have to admit, it's been fun to see what new form it takes after that three wish reset.

The best part? My genie and I have as long as we want to keep playing with it.

"Rule number one," said the genie, "you can't wish for immortality. At best I can promise is that you'll live as long as I do, and frankly, I don't know how long a genie lives. I could die immediately upon granting your wishes."

[dollychou]

DIVINITY

𝓈ummary ʚଓ nanami knows just what to say to make you feel like the most beautiful woman alive.

𝒸ontent ʚଓ fluff! nanami loves, loves, loves you. he is just so gentle with you. reader is insecure about her body. reader is chubby/plus-sized.

💌 ྀི . . i might have gotten carried away with this a teensy bit but man, i just love him so much and i can imagine him saying all that to you ngl :(

you are standing in front of the mirror, trying on the new dress your darling husband, nanami, had recently bought for you. it is this pretty shade of sage green, embroidered with the most delicate white lace, giving off such a feminine charm that you absolutely adore. the dress is just so beautiful — your husband has always had the best taste. and when it comes to you, there is no room for debate.

and yet, here you stand looking at your reflection, mind engulfed with downhearted thoughts about yourself.

all you can focus on is how the dress hugs — no, clings — to your curves in such an unflattering manner. how your tummy is bulging out, no matter how much you try to suck it in. how the sleeves are a teeny bit tight on your arms, making them look bigger than they already are.

just as you are about to remove the dress, nanami walks in, sporting his usual suit and tie for your dinner date tonight. he is clasping his watch onto his wrists as he looks at you, heart swelling at just how dazzling you look to him. "my, my, sweetheart," he coos. "you look absolutely stunning."

you can't help the tears that stream down your face, your hands coming up to hide the shame and embarrassment you feel. his face falls as he walks up to you, firm hands softly squeezing your shoulders. "sweetheart, what's wrong? are you feeling okay?," he asks carefully.

you are sobbing uncontrollably, hiccuping and practically gasping for air. his chest tightens, feeling pained to see you so. he gently brings his hand up to yours, bringing them down from your face so he can wipe away the tears. "can you tell me what's wrong? are you not feeling well? is it something i did?," he asks, cupping your face in the palm of his hand as his thumb swipes across your cheek.

"it's not you, kento," you croak out. "i just feel so ugly in this dress."

he furrows his eyebrows slightly, a mixture of anguish and annoyance evident on his face at your words. to him, that is the most ridiculous statement he had ever heard in his life. you? ugly? for goodness sakes, you could be wearing a garbage bag and he would still look at you like you were an angel descended from heaven — which to him, you are.

"honey," he begins, looking at you with all the heart he holds for you. "you look absolutely beautiful. why do you say that you look ugly, hm?"

you sigh exasperatedly, fiddling with the ends of his tie. "i look so... bulbous and large in this dress. if i were thinner or more petite or something, i would look so much better. and you bought it for me... ugh, i feel so bad."

nanami doesn't say a word for a few moments, simple taking in what you said. then he goes up behind you, engulfing you in his embrace, resting his chin on your shoulder. he makes you look at yourself in the mirror and whispers sweetly into your ears, "do you want to know what i see?"

"i see a woman... who i think has been carved by the goddesses. you have the softest skin, one that glows so prettily everyday. your face lights up over the simplest of things like when i make you coffee every morning but i still find myself overjoyed at your expression. your voice is so gentle and sweet, just like... vanilla. i love hearing you ramble to me about whatever, especially when you're sitting on my lap. where i can roam my hands all over you, feeling your plush thighs and getting to squeeze your little tummy. gosh, you have no idea how much i love the feeling. it feels like my heart will implode. if it did, i'd die a happy man though."

you let out a quiet giggle, a ghost of a smile tugging on your lips. he places a gentle kiss to your cheek before continuing. "honey, i know that sometimes you get insecure about your body. i understand. but please know, you are so very stunning. so what if you're fuller and curvier? i love you the same and truth be told, nothing could ever make me think otherwise. especially when you're wearing this dress. i feel blessed to even get to see you in it."

you take a hold of his arm that's wrapped around your waist and bring it up to your lips to plant a soft kiss atop his knuckles. you take in a few deep breaths to gather yourself before saying, "thank you, sweetie. you always know what to say."

he smiles, turning you around, hands coming to rest on your sides. he runs them up and down your hips, taking you all in, admiring the way the dress hugs your body; how it brings out the colours in your eyes; how it shows just the right amount of skin. he thinks you look perfect and no one could convince him otherwise. he kisses your forehead, then peers down at you, rubbing away the remaining tears on your cheeks.

"are you still up for dinner tonight?," he muses, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ears.

"yes, ken i am," you respond in your usual bubbly tone. "i want people to see me in this dress that my handsome hubby got me! can't let it go to waste now can i?"

he lets out an airy, light chuckle, tapping the tip of your nose endearingly. "why of course, sweetheart. it would be a shame for you not to wear it. especially on the night of our anniversary."

© all works belong to dollychou. do not copy, repost, or translate my works.

[genomesoldier]

Vaguely x reader survivor headcanon thing good lord

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Hi! I wrote these almost three months ago hoping I would be able to write for all of the games' cast. Unfortunately, I've since fallen out of Forsaken in lieu of the game practically exploding in popularity. I will give what I had written, though! Hopefully someone out there likes this. These will be a mix of general headcanons + more affectionate ones. They may be out of character because they were written such a long time ago.

All writing is below the cut. :)

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Noob

Noob is a quiet, polite soul; naturally reserved and even closed off. They fear being a burden, seeking out comfort in the little things and the small variables they can control.

Noob is someone who takes a long time to truly open up about themselves. Whatever happened between Guest 666 and them left a deep, lasting impression: their devotion and trust is something hard-earned.

Now, that is a high hurdle to leap; but once it is managed, Noob is an utter sweetheart. They strongly value physical touch and affection, finding grounding and security in hand-holding or a strong hug. The ability to make them feel secure and safe is a huge deal, especially with them.

Noob has a lesser-known, more expressive side to them; being a sillier, more teasing individual beneath the skittish surface. This half is often obscured by insecurities.

They love to share their snacks! They do not taste as good here as they do at home, but they hope the thought is what counts.

They had spent a lot of time fretting up to this point: their worth, their usefulness to their fellow survivors… they struggled at a point to believe that people did not secretly find them bothersome or dead weight. Being able to open up is nothing but a boon to their emotional health. They feel braver with someone that they can trust to have their back.

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Elliot

Elliot is a hard-working, (generally) polite person. This isn’t to say he has any lack of sass… that smile of his is practiced.

While he strives to make his work/team environment comfortable for everyone, he will not hide his feelings off the clock. (007 and him are noted to have a particularly rocky relationship.)

Elliot has spent much of his working life in a service position; and so his patience is immense. That is to say anyone who is treating him with decency is good in his books.

Elliot does not have much of a social life; his job was his priority. That is to say he has a lot to talk about. (Plenty of customer horror stories to tell, for sure.)

Elliot did not realize how good it was to vent his feelings—to just sit down and talk—until someone finally gave him the room to speak about himself. He is used to being the person people talk at, rather than the one doing the talking.

Elliot often puts others above himself: not because of others expectations, but rather his own. Elliot’s own exhaustion and stress is often being put aside for what he deems more important or immediate, and puts a lot of pride in being “self-made.” He often forgets to rest and needs to be reminded to slow down sometimes due to this.

Elliot is big on words of affirmation, and knows how to make people feel better or ease stress. He’s eloquent or even flowery if he’s trying to be charming, if not slightly cheesy.

Elliot appreciates quality time, too. Everything around him (including himself) always seems to be moving so fast. Having someone to just be there, a constant in what is otherwise a hectic situation, eases his frayed nerves.

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Two-Time

Two-Time is a flawed individual. A slightly(?) delusional cultist, who clearly has things to hide.

Two-Time comes off as reckless and low-empathy. They have issues to sort out clearly, but they do have some heart.

Most of the things they do are things they believe are for the greater good (even if they may not really be).

...So, someone who doesn’t treat them like a shadow—who well and truly listens to their eccentricity, authentically—is someone that would have them fascinated.

They are a lonely and strange person. Someone even remotely accompanying makes them happier than they may first realize. Company is often taken for granted, but Two-Time is intimately acquainted with isolation.

Two-Time takes much solace in having someone merely be there, to talk to them. Someone who understands or at least listens is a reprieve and reminder that there are still good things to be had, though they may not understand why (or if) they deserve it.

...Azure had not only been their partner, but their best friend. They made their decision a long time ago, but to say they feel no nostalgia or guilt (though they have likely deluded themself into thinking it to be for the greater good) would be foolish.

They will stick their neck out for people with little hesitation under the firm belief that they will come back: “shadows die twice,” as they like to say. Something especially true for someone who they feel they can rely on. To boot, Two-Time is a rather impulsive person who often leaps before they look. They bleed, but it will surely be fine—they will wake right back up again--their faith in the Spawn heaves them upwards.

They are Incredibly perceptive yet simultaneously dense. They can spot when someone is troubled, but may be invasive with their questioning. It is almost frightening how easily they can pin a persons feelings down.

Two-Time values quality time and actions: There will be a hundred little things that they may wish they had done one day… or things they may regret having done.

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Chance

This man has secrets in spades. A liar almost compulsively, a charmer to boot. The charm is natural, however. Chance proves to be quite the people-person, and surprisingly non-judgmental.

It is of little surprise how much of Chance is fabricated however; either to impress others or simply pull the wool over people’s eyes to whatever truths he may be trying to hide.

Much of his positivity is natural! Chance is a person willing to see the good in bad situations. An equal half of that positive attitude however is used to shovel away his actual problems that need addressing. Most issues are contributed by him to bad luck more than anything. (He is a rather superstitious individual, to note.)

...The effort required to get him to lay down his walls is immense; a slow chip-away to reveal someone more authentic beneath the surface-level nonchalance.

He may be rather dense at times as a consequence of this, failing to see the bigger issue (whether in a situation or even with himself) in exchange for brushing it all off.

Chance tends to act like a "hotshot" for people he wants to impress, and sometimes him looking cool is entirely accidental. Lucky him! Respectfully, he is a little stupid at times, but he means perfectly well.

Chance values gift-giving quite a bit. He is more observant than he lets on! He might not look it, but he remembers the little things. There is consideration in the things he gives, and it shows.

As someone with money to spare, he's prone to splurging for people he cares about. He may be a bit of an impulse buyer; at least when it comes to buying other people nice things.

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007n7

007n7 is a troubled individual, with an even more troubled past. In lieu of all the hardships he's dealt with, he's... handling everything the best that he possibly can.

In his younger days, 007n7 was quite the menace--outgoing, even reckless--though nowadays he is rather reserved and even occasionally pleasant to be around... if anyone can even find him to talk to him at all. (Not even to mention that's if anyone would want to speak with him to begin with.)

007n7 has become a bit of a hermit, being both closed off and slippery: in that he seemingly blends in with crowds on purpose if only to escape any modicum of attention.

Oftentimes 007n7 is lost in his own inner world. He is a chronic daydreamer, though not outwardly emotive in reaction to whatever he may be thinking about. He has mastered his poker face at this point, a blank slate that is extremely difficult to read, and he does not plan on letting anyone in anytime soon.

007n7 deals with a fair bit of self-loathing for a variety of reasons. He pins a lot of the blame on himself for losing his son; he had at one point made Elliot's work life practically a living hell; and he had drawn plenty of ire from administrators for his shenanigans. He would not and does not blame anyone for disliking him, and tries to keep himself out of everyone's business if only not to raise their ire or bother them. He is both isolated and self-isolating, to say.

...So, he would be an extremely difficult person to crack. 007n7 would take a long time to open up, let alone hold a conversation. He's rather prone to drifting off into his own thoughts, and it is safe to say he has not had a "real" conversation with someone in a long time.

Having someone snap him out of his zone-outs and drag him into reality, instead of hearing conversations manufactured inside his own head? The notion is surprising to him. Yet, with consistency, 007n7 proves to have a lot to talk about. Most of his past is unpleasant to him, but he is highly prone to reminiscing nonetheless. There is a lot of remorse and regret involved, but that does not mean his past was devoid of any kind of fun--especially not in the moment. 007n7 may hesitate to admit he had a good time out of a mix of shame and a fear of judgement.

Someone to talk to is a small miracle to him in of itself. Someone who won't judge him is even bigger. Someone to ground him in the "now" of things, rather than constantly reminiscing on what had and could have been, was something he did not know he needed so badly. 007n7 is not one to smile much anymore, let alone wear his feelings on his sleeve, but his smiles are subdued and soft and meaningful. Maybe there is still value to be had in the present...

007n7 is not very good with his words, so he tries to convey himself with his actions. No amount of apologies could undo the past, and he has long since lost the words. He understands acutely what it is like to have no one to lean on but yourself, if even that. So the least he can do is be there when no one was there for him. It is surprising how ever-present he seems to be, following like a shadow and appearing when he is needed the most.

[silverheartlugia2000]

Here I go again.. op if I were to post this on ao3 may I have permission to use parts of your opening with credit?

It's been almost a year since Danny remembered. He hasn't taken the shot. He dosent have a reason to open that can of worms yet. But he has figured out that he can still use a pinch of intangibility. Just enough to get him out of cuffs or rope if needed. The needle is locked in a safe only he, or Cujo technically, can get to.

The whistle, though? He used it right away. Cujo busts into the cave and knocks him to the ground, slobbering all over his face in the way only a happy puppy can manage. It also helped Damian let go of whatever doubts he still held onto.

Cujo, with the code name Hellhound, was a lot of help. With Danny still behind the chair. He could send Cujo out to deliver things when needed. Extra batches of antidotes for Joker Venom. Files or equipment to other teams. When Tim forgets lunch again, Alfred sends him off with a lunchbox. He even sent the pup to fetch his brothers home when they got knocked out for stupid reasons.

Danny woke up one morning to a pile of presents and Cujo yiping excitedly while wearing a little party hat. Looks like his original Death Day still applies to this life. He needs to remember to introduce the tradition on Jason's Death Day this year.

Hellhound trails behind him as he wanders the Watchtower. Danny may have never gone in the field, but he still has his own Codename and mask so he can sneak into big meetings and handle repair jobs in a pinch.

He didn't know why at the time, but he was determined to use something from the corvid family. A joke on his 'death curse' he reasoned. Raven was active already, vulture sounded too villainy, crow was overrated and dull.

He settled on Magpie. Tim always teased him of hoarding trinkets for his building projects. And something about the combo of black and white with a sheen of greenish blue when the light hits their feathers right caught his eye and wouldn't let go.

He's distracted by the windows a few times, Cujo nudging him back on task gently. He's been hungrier more often now that he's aware of his Core again. Maybe he can ask Dad for an overnight stay up here when he's done, snack on the view of stars for a while.

"Hey Casper! Whatcha doing all the way up here today?"

Danny turns away from the window again, (Yeah he needs that snack fest..) to see Zatanna walking over.

He smiles under his mask, "Ah, just the usual. Got bored and decided to look for something to fix. And uh.." he glanced to the window again. "Guess I'm getting peckish.."

She laughs, reaching out to pet Cujo. "Who's the cutest widdle green bean in the whole afterlife~" Cujo, of course, yips happily and flips over for tummy rubs. "Hahaha! How is that glamor charm working?"

"It's great, thanks! Looks just like a normal living puggle. Don't need to worry about him staying invisible in public. He can have playtime in the park just fine. Even got him registered as a support dog for my episodes."

Having a sickly human body with a sleeping Core had drawbacks. When his heart shut down on occasion, his Core strained to keep him going till it started up again. It was getting better now that he was actively feeding it again, but fainting spells are something he might never be rid of even if he did take the shot.

Not long after the medallion incident, Team Dark had barged in the Cave following the spike in the veil from their trip to Clockwork. They noticed the shift in Danny's Core and the vial in his hands right away.

He couldn't hide it, so he told them the truth. Or half of it, just so they didn't banish him. Danny remembered his previous 'afterlife' of being a Realms ghost, and an Ancient decided he deserved to be reincarnated but couldn't completely get rid of his Core in the process.

They took to it well considering, even tossed in trinkets when Cujo bugged them to contribute to his Death Day, they'll come over to help break in Jason's next month.

(That's it for now.. it's 3 am.. I'm seepy..)

I was thinking of those prompts where Danny is placed (most of the time by Clockwork) into the Batfam. Danny believes he’s been there the whole time and it’s after Bruce comes back from being trapped in time so they chalk it up to time shenanigans. Also, Danny is now Tim’s twin.

Warnings: some language

Danny skips down the stairs leisurely, headphones in to some rock song Damian would hate.

The Cave is damp and cold, as usual. The music blares out the sound of his sneakers tapping as he walks. He waves to B’s back as he continues on to the work bench. The project he had started the day before was still there.

One of the grapple hooks was lagging so he was fixing it up and added a few more safety measures on the device. His brothers were using this, he wanted it as safe as he can make it.

Behind him he hears a voice over the music, interrupting his work after only about half an hour. He turns and sees Bruce looking at him with a raised brow.

Danny pulls out an earbud.

“Huh?”

“I thought you were going to visit your friends?”

Danny thinks back to the last conversation he had with his dad. It had nothing to do with his friends actually, it was about his stupid English test and how he was going to call Jason if he could help tutor him since he was so hopeless.

“No, I’ll see them on Monday.”

“Monday?”

Danny pauses halfway to putting the earbud back in his ear.

“Yea? At school?”

“School?”

Bruce stands to step closer to him but still at a distance.

Danny rolls his eyes and chuckles.

“Are you just going to keep repeating what I say?”

His dad looks him over critically. Danny pauses his music and takes out the other earbud.

“Did you change your hair?”

Danny reaches up reflexively to pat down his bangs. If anything he probably needed a haircut soon.

“Um, no? Are you okay? When’s the last time you slept?”

He tosses his headphones on the workbench but keeps his phone in his hand in case he needs to call someone.

“I’ve recovered,” Bruce dismisses. Like his year long trip in the time stream could be easily forgotten after a few months.

“Sure,” Danny agrees anyway when they both know he doesn’t agree.

“Tim,” Bruce sighs.

Danny immediately presses the button on his ring three times to alert the others. The computer beeps and the man turns to look at the screen. Danny grabs the closest weapon — a screwdriver — and holds it behind him.

Only Alfred, Damian, and Duke were at the manor. Hopefully backup would arrive soon.

“What were you doing, Dad?”

Not-Bruce freezes and then relaxes. It was only a second but Danny noticed. Any of the Bats would have, they’re trained for it.

“Just going over reports,” Not-Bruce replies with a smile. A smile.

His grip on the tool tightens.

“Which reports?” He tests.

What was he doing? There’s no telling the kind of information this imposter got a hold of.

“The Bennet case.”

Danny moves. Casually, he takes a step to the left, where the more heavy duty weapons were stored. The man matches him threateningly. Danny stills.

“That was solved over a month ago.”

There was no reason to look at a case from a month ago that was solved and closed. Bruce would have no reason to look at something like that, especially since it was Tim who solved it and submitted the report.

“By you,” Not-Bruce says in an odd tone.

He was getting Tim and Danny mixed up. Nobody in the family gets them confused anymore. That only applies to outsiders.

Danny tenses, ready to bolt toward the weapons. Not-Bruce is fast to intercept, but Danny is smaller and more agile.

He dodges and goes to stab the man in the leg when there is a prick to his neck that makes him stumble. Not-Bruce uses that opportunity to disarm him and slam him into the floor. It’s jarring, but the sedative is already working its way through him.

He blinks twice before everything is forced to black.

He knows he’s tied to a chair before he’s even fully awake. There’s been numerous kidnappings and training exercises that had his hands and feet tied down to know exactly in what position he’s in and for how long depending on how numb his limbs are.

He’s still in the Cave because he can feel the damp chill and hear the faint chattering of the bats. There’s a barrier though. Along with how hard the chair was he knew exactly where he was.

The containment cell is tucked away in a separate cavern. It had thick microfiber see through walls and a single chair with restraints.

The imposter put him in their own cell.

Danny is positively livid with the disrespect.

“You’re awake.”

Danny jerks his head up.

Oh thank the Ancients, his twin is here.

“Tim,” he breathes. “Okay, I know this looks bad, but trust me. It’s Bruce. He couldn’t tell us apart. Something’s wrong. He’s not himself.”

Tim is silent for much too long, just staring at him. He’s in his uniform like he just got back from patrol when Danny knew he had been in California with his team.

“Just talk to me,” he demands. “What’s going on? Where’s B?”

Tim’s mask narrows.

“Why should I trust you?”

Danny blinks wide.

“Why should- okay, first of all, screw you. Second, now is so not the time to be petty with me. I already apologized for messing up your photo shoot. I even made up for it, so legally you can’t be mad at me anymore.”

“My photo shoot?”

Danny rolls his eyes. This seat was getting uncomfortable.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Stop being such a jerk. This is serious. I’m telling you something is off with B. Did you guys check him? I hit the emergency button.”

Danny can tell his twin raises a brow at him.

“You hit the emergency button?”

“I literally just said that. Do you listen at all?”

“I was just confirming,” Tim shrugs it off.

“Whatever. Tim, I think there’s someone else here. I got hit with a tranq. Someone is in on this. And can someone please get me out of these? I’m not the problem here.”

Unfortunately, Tim does not get him out of his bonds. He just stands there watching him until he turns on his heel and leaves the cavern where Danny can’t see.

“What the- Tim! What the hell, dude?!”

Danny wiggles in his seat, but the more thrashing the more it hurt. Instead he sits there for a while, just tracing the rock and counting, until someone comes back in.

It’s Dick. The one big brother who he can always count on to at least be there.

“Hey there,” he smiles through the glass.

“Dick, what is happening? Tim isn’t listening. Did you find Bruce? Why am I in here?”

“Yea, Bruce is here. He’s safe. I saw the tapes. It looked like you were going to attack him,” he reasons gently.

“Yea because something is wrong with him. Maybe he’s compromised or mind controlled or something. You need to investigate. He needs to be cleared,” Danny insists.

“Okay,” Dick nods. He squats down to get comfortable outside the barrier instead of going to find Bruce though. “What made you think he’s compromised?”

“He kept confusing me with Tim!” He emphasizes because just the thought is outrageous. “He hasn’t done that in years. Yea maybe a mix up when he’s not paying attention but he was looking right at me and called me Tim. And he kept asking me these weird questions, like he had no idea who I was. Something is wrong.”

Dick puts a hand over his lips in thought, clearly going over something in his head.

“I’ll be right back,” Dick rushes out the door in a flash.

Danny’s jaw drops in protest but no words come out. He yells in frustration instead.

No one was listening to him! They were all freaking him out.

Maybe this was training. Like on their sixteenth birthday. It’s similar to what happened then. So what is his next course of action?

“You make it sound like we should know you.”

Danny finds his little brother in the shadows, lurking by the entrance. He’s also dressed in his vigilante attire, just like Tim and Dick.

“Damian, could you stop being a little gremlin for two seconds?” He glares at the younger boy.

“Answer the question.”

“It wasn’t a question,” he snarks back.

Damian grinds his teeth and Danny smirks nastily. He wasn’t in the mood for sibling rivalry right now.

“Who are you?”

Danny’s expression twists.

“That isn’t funny.”

“I’m not laughing.”

A cold dread settles in his chest. What if it wasn’t a training exercise?

“You know who I am. Stop playing games.”

“You say you’re not Tim. Claim you’ve known Father for years.”

“Damian.”

Bruce steps out followed closely by Dick and Tim.

There is a cold sweat on his brow now. Danny’s heart is beating loudly in his ears. He can feel the panic in his chest.

He wasn’t like the others. He didn’t go out to fight crime. He just trained with them because they all knew he needed to know those things to live in their life.

He wasn’t prepared for something like this.

“Guys, you’re really freaking me out.”

“Answer the question.”

No one defends him from Damian’s demand. They all look at him with caution, like he was the enemy. A stranger.

“You know me. What are you guys talking about?”

When no one answers he’s close to a damn panic attack.

“It’s me. Danny. You know? Tim’s twin. I’ve lived here since me and Tim moved in when we were twelve. Please tell me this is just training. You guys didn’t- didn’t forget me or something, right?”

Something in Dick’s expression looks unsure, but they all are withdrawn and completely in their roles. They weren’t acting like family.

“Prove it,” Tim commands.

Danny can’t believe his ears.

“AN-4729,” he recites the emergency code to prove authenticity they all know.

He can tell they recognize it, but wait for more.

“The sun shines in the east,” is the next security code to show safety.

Danny can tell it’s still not enough.

“There’s a file of me on the computer. Tim has pictures of us since childhood hidden under the floorboard under his dresser. My room is to the left of Tim’s. Inside the closet, in the ceiling, is a box. Inside the box is a medallion. It holds my entire life. You could also call Mr. Fox. I work with him often. I’m his favorite. I’m even on the payroll. Or you could just Google Daniel Drake-Wayne. I’m sure I’d pop up. Or call Gotham Academy since I’m enrolled there and everyone has seen Alfred pick me up and drop me off. I have a Christmas stocking with my name on it. My picture is literally all over the manor. I know the ins and outs of all your equipment and tech. The password to the Bat computer is 35G4s@2b-“

“Okay,” Dick gently interrupts. “I think that’s enough for now.”

Danny can feel how wet his eyes are. He stiffens his upper lip as Alfred would say so he doesn’t show how much of a disappointment he is to fail this test. Because this has to be a test. It has to be.

“Tim, you and I could always tell when we’re lying. We call ourselves our own personal lie detectors. So… am I lying?”

Tim studies him hard. His twin looks into his eyes for longer than it should take.

“I don’t know.”

And Danny breaks.

[softaestluv]

Hellloooo! I would really love if you wrote something for shy!Kyle/Gaz who has had a crush on f!reader for years and one night the reader told him he’s liked him for years but she understands if he doesn’t and it gets spicy? Maybe? I love your work!!!

The first time the both of you met, you and Kyle were in your last year of primary school. It’s your favorite story to tell actually, he had kicked a ball right into your face at recess, gave you a bloody nose and tear stained cheeks.

You were taller than him then, lasting baby fat clinging to his chubby cheeks, and voice cracking when he had frantically asked you if you were okay.

Maybe you were a bit of a brat when you had yelled at him to take you to the nurses office. He did of course, sat with you in the room while you had rolled up tissues buried in your nose.

And when you realized blood had dripped onto your chest and stained your favorite shirt, you turned towards him with a scowl.

“You ruined my favorite shirt!”

His eyes widened, raising his hands, palms forward, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, really!”

“You’re going to have to make this up to me, Kyle Garrick!”

And then he never left your side.

Through awkward preteen phases and young adolescence. Acne breakouts and growth spurts. Body fluctuations and maturity. Into adulthood, where the both of you got an apartment together and scrambled to decide on your future careers. A decision from Kyle that you weren’t particularly fond of.

The first time was the easiest, even if you clung to him for his last remaining seconds with glassy eyes and a wobbly bottom lip. He had chuckled at you, poked teasing words into your sides like he didn’t feel the same way, but he uttered under his breath— I’ll miss you too.

You were fine— for about three days.

You had convinced yourself that you only saw him as a friend. Your brother. Had seen him at his worst. But you had watched him grow into a man. The short kid you used to tease now towered over you, grew into a sharp jawline, broad shoulders, and a charming smile.

Maybe the distance, the lack of communication for weeks at a time, the apartment half empty and cold in his absence, made you realize he was more than that. Made your chest heavy, aching in an unfamiliar way, clawing at something in your sternum that you couldn’t appease.

Until he stood on the doorstep of your apartment door, goofy smile smeared across his lips. It made the ache bloom to warmth when he reached down to scoop you into his arms, clawing morphed into soft fluttering when he murmured how much he missed you, felt as if you could finally fucking breathe when you buried your face into the crook of his neck and you could smell him.

So, when he finally sets you down, his hands on your hips, yours resting on his broad chest, the words come tumbling out of your lips before you even realize.

“Kyle, I don’t really know where to start. I um, look, I get it if you don’t feel the same way.” You take a deep breath, “Fuck it— I like you. More than a best friend, and I think I have for years, I just didn’t realize until you were gone. I figured I had to tell you even if—“

The rest of your words are muffled, engulfed between Kyle’s plush lips. You gasp against his lips in shock, hadn’t been expecting him to stamp his mouth against yours. Your fingers fist his shirt tightly, pushing to your tippy toes when it finally dawns on you to kiss back.

“Kyle, what—” You pant between his lips, head swirling from the desperate way he’s kissing you.

“Had a crush on you since we sat in that bloody nurses' office together and you yelled at me.” He confesses, planting wet pecks against the corners of your lips as you speak.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t want to lose you.” His large hands find the backs of your thighs, placing them around his hips, and hoisting you into his arms.

The path down the hallway is a clumsy one, crashing into the walls as he carries you to your bedroom, lips feverishly dragging against yours.

“Wait, wait, Kyle, what are you doing?” You ask through swollen lips.

“Waited years for this,” He murmurs, dropping you onto your bed before crawling over your frame, “Don’t plan to wait any longer to have you, darlin’.”

[caoimhewrites]

Surprise Surprise

Undying Ground (Pt 4)

moved to @caoimhewritesfics

You and Ghost go to get more materials and find something you weren't expecting.

Tags/CW: zombies, minor weapons mention, post apocalyptic world WC: 1.8k

Pairing: Simon Riley x Reader. Reluctant allies to lovers

Series Masterlist → here

A/N: sorry this took so long :( writers block won't leave me alone. ALSO!! Surprise cameo yayyyyy

It was hot.

So unbelievably hot.

The type of heat that made your stomach hurt and tighten, threatening to spill. It does worse to your feet, the pavement searing hot, making them feel like eggs in a pan.

You had quickly learned that Ghost's idea of "not too far" could not be any more different than yours. You two had been walking down the street for three hours already and you still couldn't even see the town Ghost told you about last night.

Ghost seems unfazed by the unbearable heat. He trudges along in all black, long sleeves, dark jeans, and a thick dark jacket that you assumed he used for when an infected tries to bite.

He had lent you a new knife, saying that yours was "pathetic". You had taken it with a grumbled thank you, concealing your gratefulness. It had been so long since you had anything even close to adequate for defending yourself. It was different. An adjustment. But, it was a step up from the stick you called a knife.

You had counted yourself lucky, not running into many infected while you are out alone. If you had found yourself another horde, you surely would’ve been a goner. Even in the couple weeks on Ghost’s floor you hadn’t heard the sound of their groans. Perhaps they were finally rotting away, purging the earth of their disease.

No.

It couldn’t be that good.

You knew well enough not to get your hopes up about these things. You were stuck with these things for the rest of your life.

"Are we close yet? You said it wasn't that far. This is far," you let out a long petulant sigh, looking over at Ghost.

"You're just lazy," he retorts flatly. "It's just a quarter mile now."

“You better not be lying," you roll your eyes, grumbling with agitation.

He shoots you a glare, fed up with your winging, “whatever. You complain too much.”

Finally after what is certainly farther than a quarter mile, the small town comes into view. It’s small and dilapidated, ivy growing on the walls of the shops. Signs dangle as they rot off of their posts, wind blowing them, making the wood groan.

It’s like the old westerns your grandpa used to have on every night but wrong and distorted. The old charm morphed into something eerie and uncomfortable.

The growl of an infected hits your ears, the drag of its feet moving the loose gravel. The old, tattered Braves cap on its head droops into its eyes, what's left of them at least. Ghost draws his knife and moves forward swiftly. You learned quickly to take them out when they start making noise. The growls attract more and the last thing you need is every infected left in the town coming after you.

Ghost gives you a quick nod, "stay here. You know what to do if there's more."

"I know the deal."

As Ghost deals with the infected you take off to your left. The old pharmacy calling your name. If Ghost is right about the town, there should be plenty of supplies on the shelves to keep you stocked for another year, two if you're lucky.

You struggle to pry open the old doors. Years ago they would have slid open automatically but years of disuse and rust have them sealed shut. Your arms burn with effort as you manage to pull them apart just enough to slip inside. You toss your bag in haphazardly, waiting to see if any infected come crawling out towards you.

After a minute or so of waiting and no infected coming to get you, you step in and sling your bag over your shoulder. Ghost was right. The aisles are almost full. The town must have been hit fast, leaving no one any time to raid for supplies.

You waste no time shoving whatever you can grab into your bag. Bandages, antibiotics, even old bags of chips and beef jerky. You snatch some old sodas from the coolers, blowing off the thick layers of dust that had accumulated on top like a blanket.

"Leave some for the rest of us." Ghost's voice cuts through the silence, sharp and accusatory. "I wouldn't drink that if I were you."

Your hand paused mid air, "and why not?" You ask with a raised brow.

Ghost took a step forward, his boots heavy against the dust covered tile floors, "that shit is five years old. I doubt either of us want you vomiting everywhere."

You grimaced and looked down at the can, "yeah whatever. It's probably fine." You decide you don't care at all. It can't be that bad, can it? It's just been sitting there, not like anything has happened to it.

"Trust me... It's not." Ghost's brown eyes narrow, mask shifting slightly over his face.

You turn your head to look at him with a crooked grin, "is that experience talking or what?"

You've discovered that it's quite fun to tease him. Having no TV or books for five years really does a number on a person. The boredom feels more deadly than a bite from an infected. But, Ghost turned out to be... sensitive. He was terrible at being the butt of the joke, always snapping at you like an offended child. Naturally, you took full advantage of this fact. He never made any move to kick you out for it, no matter how much he hated it.

Ghost exhales sharply, jaw tense, "just shut up and trust me. Don't drink that shit."

"Fine, dad," you chuckle as you roll your eyes at him.

When Ghost turns away you slip the can into your bag. You don't care what he says, you haven't had soda in five years and his bossy attitude wasn't going to stop you from getting what you want. You've been good enough to keep up your end of the deal without complaints. You deserve to treat yourself.

Ghost, silent as always, makes his way through the aisles. He’s far more meticulous than you, pulling out bottles, reading them and leaving behind what he doesn’t want as opposed to your frantic scramble to take whatever you could get your hand on like a grandma set loose in a super sale.

“So… how did you find out about this place?” You ask, voice laced with a quiet curiosity. 

Ghost doesn’t look up as he murmurs his response, “scoped it out a few months ago. Everywhere else is a lost cause.”

“Tell me about it,” you grumble. “Why not take everything now? Any scavenger could come through and wipe out all of this in just a few hours,” you shrug your reply as you keep looking through the heavily stocked but dusty aisles.

“No one’s coming down here. The infected blocked off the main roads. Only thing keeping them from us is the river,” Ghost replies as he slips a few bottles into his pack. 

You let out a small huff, “hmm, lucky us I guess.”

You drift away from his side, drawn like a moth to a flame towards the snacks. Ghost can say whatever he wants about the soda but, you won’t let him shame you about these chips. The barbecue potato chips call your name. A soft clanking distracts you from stuffing bag after bag of chips into your pack. 

Gripping the handle of your knife, you slink towards the sound. 

“Ghost,” you whisper, alerting him to the possible danger. His head whips around and he silently moves to your side, knife at the ready. 

When you first met him, his name seemed stupid, ridiculous even. But, as you’ve stayed with him the more it makes sense. His movements usually go unnoticed by you, the silence and precision of his movements shocking. 

He gives you a small nod, urging you to go first. Your movements are measured as you keep walking forward. An old, rusty door stands in front of the both of you, blocking you off from the sock room. Pulling the handle and silently pushing the door open, you step into the back. The sound echoes again, making Ghost grab your arm.

His touch is surprisingly gentle, large hand wrapping around your wrist. “Slowly,” he whispers, brown eyes staring intensely into yours.

You hated when he did that. It was better when he ignored you or was indifferent towards you. The gentleness and… care made the whole situation harder. Living on some strange man's floor, him being your closest ally after losing Vivienne wasn’t exactly easy. Especially since he didn’t seem to be fond of you. That’s what made moments like this even more confusing. He made it clear a million times that your essentially colleagues at best, just in each other's lives because being gnawed on by an infected was the only worse option.

Rounding the corner, your eyes fall on the source of the sound. Whatever you were expecting wasn’t this. An infected or a group of people who had managed to make their way inside seemed much more within the realm of possibility. But… a dog? You couldn’t remember the last time you had seen a dog.

The german shepherd was buried in an old trash can, gnawing on a hamburger wrapper. It raises its head to get a good look at you and Ghost, a sweet, dopey look on its face. 

“A dog?” You ask in surprise.

Ghost steps up beside you, lowering his knife to his side, “when’s the last time you saw one of those?”

You shake your head, staring at the animal, “I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to.”

You step forward, hand outstretched non-threateningly. “Come here, boy,” you coo as the dog trots over to you happily, voice soft and coaxing. The shepherd presses his nose against you palm, tail wagging rapidly.

Ghost shifts with unease, “don’t touch it.”

“Calm down. It’s just a dog. It’s not gonna eat you,” you roll your eyes and look over at him, a small smirk forming on your face.

“It could be infected,” he huffs, eyeing the dog like it could explode at any second.

You scoff, “does it look infected to you?”

He lets out a frustrated sigh, crouching down by the dog. Ghost reluctantly reaches down to inspect the collar around the dog's neck. “Riley… hmm,” he lets out a small huff, almost a chuckle.

“What is it?” Intrigue lacing your tone. 

“Nothing. Rings a bell is all.”

You run your hand over the dog's back, feeling the soft fur and slight squish. Wherever this dog has been he’s been eating well. “I’m keeping him.”

Ghost straightens up, glaring at you sharply, “no you’re not. I’m not housing another stray.”

“Rude,” you shoot back, matching his glare. “I am keeping him. There’s nothing in our little agreement that says I can’t.”

He looks down at the dog for a beat, debating what to do. “Fine, but you’re taking care of it. And it better not shit in my house.”

“Can you just enjoy anything?” You ask with a huff. The only thing that seemed less likely than seeing Ghost’s face was witnessing him experience any form of joy. 

“No,” Ghost replies, voice flat.

Taglist: @little-mini-me-world @angeldemon28 @iminlovewithjasontodd @i-like-foxs @dravenskye @lilynotdilly @thatghostlykid @lostintransist @nicolebarnes @vybzwithjaz @night-shadowblood-writes2 @jimihendrixenthusiast76

[ladykailitha]

Spellbound Part 8

Hey, guys, we are really ramping it from here on in. There will be lots of twists and turns and exciting revelations for you guys to read all about!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

~

Steve blinked at Argyle for a moment and then let out a sigh. “Was he traveling through the marsh?”

Argyle uncovered his snout with his paw and tilted his head to the side. “Jonathan told him not to. That while it would cut the trip in half, there were some ruins nearby that were unsafe.”

Steve ran his hands over his face and then ran his fingers through his hair. “Did Jonathan explain why Will was to avoid the ruins?”

Argyle nodded emphatically. “Redcaps are a nasty business and their homes are worse.”

Max and Robin looked at each other in confusion.

“What’s a red cap?” they asked in unison.

Argyle looked up at Steve and then tilted his head. “You haven’t taught them about the creatures of the land surrounding their village?”

Steve knelt down, and propped one arm across one leg. “Look here, Foxspirit. I have had nothing but trouble in this town for the usual things like medicines and love charms, what the hell do you think they’d do to me if I tried teaching about redcaps and the fae.”

Argyle’s ear twitched. “Probably take you out burn you at the stake?”

“Right in one,” Steve said with a little bit more bite then he would have otherwise. “And as for my apprentices, Robin’s magic keeps spilling out in confusing ways and as such I have focused on controlling her power then the basics like I did with Jonathan.”

The fox regarded Robin for a moment. “I can fix that if you would like me to.”

Steve stared at him for a moment. “Fix it how?”

Argyle turned tail and went straight for the bookshelf. He scanned the spines for what he was looking for and pawed at it.

Steve went over and pulled the chosen book off the shelf. “ ‘Witches’ Powers and Abilities’ by Morgana le Fay...how is this supposed to help?”

“Put it on the floor,” Argyle directed. “I promise I won’t rip it.”

Steve did as he was told and the fox skimmed through the book as they watched in silence. Even the familiars watched this strange sight of a grey fox reading a book on witches’ powers.

“There it is!” Argyle cried after a moment or two. Steve stooped down and picked up the book. According the page he had stopped at sometimes witches had too much magic and that it would spill over into everything they do.

“Wait,” Robin said, “I’m not clumsy, it’s just my magic is too big for me?”

Argyle nodded. “And I am gonna have to change, my good sir. I need to make her an amulet to lock away some of her power until she needs it.”

Steve nodded. His amulet work was decent enough, but Argyle’s family specialized in them, making the young native the best choice for the job.

“There should be some initiate robes in the wardrobe in my room,” Steve said absently, “one of them should fit well enough.”

He set the book on his morning table and picked out three other books. He crossed referenced everything twice before he started getting out the things that Argyle would need.

“Is there a reason we’re waiting until tomorrow to go looking for Will?” Max asked surprised. “I thought with whatever this red cap thing was, that you would be wanting to go tearing off after him.”

Steve shook his head. “By the time we got everything together, it would be nearing dusk and that’s when a red cap is at its most powerful. It’s better to wait until dawn.”

He was getting down the last of the herbs when Argyle came out of his bedroom. The blue-green robe fell to the tops of his feet and was tied neatly at his waist. His long hair was braided into ropes at both sides of his head.

“This is a pretty neat robe,” he said as he twirled around in it. “Thank you for lending it to me.”

“I’ve already sent Circe,” Steve said without turning around, “to tell Jonathan you’ll be back tomorrow when we start looking for Will.”

“Thank you!” Argyle said brightly. He wandered over to the workstation and nodded approvingly. “Good job, good sir!”

He got down to work and immediately Robin and Max could see the difference between Steve’s magic and Argyle’s.

Where Steve’s magic tended toward flash and sparkle, Argyle’s was more like a hum in their bones. They could feel it sink deep below their skin as the fox spirit worked his magic.

Steve wasn’t sure how long it took, but before he knew it, Argyle was done. He turned around and handed the beautifully crafted amulet to Robin. She slipped it over her head and gasped.

“Oh!” she murmured, holding up her hands to look at them. “I can feel my magic humming instead of the discordant clang that it used to be.”

Argyle nodded sagely. “Once you master your magic and become a full fledged witch, you should be able to take it off and have no more issues with your magic.”

“You’ll want to keep it on even when you bathe,” Steve said sternly. “Taking it off even for a minute will be like that first blast of water once you prime the pump.” He made an exploding gesture with his hands.

Robin nodded, eyes wide. “Understood! Leave necklace on to keep from gushing magic everywhere all at once.”

Then suddenly Argyle swayed where he stood. “Whoops.”

He crumpled to the ground, but Steve was able to catch him before his head hit the ground.

“Oh, and that’s another reason we’re waiting until tomorrow,” he murmured, shaking his head.

“Oh!” Robin cried. “I forgot he said that changing back would exhaust him! And then he still went and made my amulet. Poor thing!”

Steve lifted the man up and carried him over the sofa where Bav moved it to where he would get the best light and cracked open a window for him.

Max put a blanket over his sleeping form. “Got off to a bad start, but still that was a noble thing to do.”

Steve nodded.

~

Steve chewed on his lip and then left Argyle in the girls’ care. They were going to need help finding Will and while his friends would be the first in line to help him look for the boy, he needed an expert in tracking and that meant Wayne.

He walked over to the Munsons’ cottage and knocked on the door. He breathed a a sigh of relief when Wayne answered.

“Hey, Wayne,” Steve greeted. “We are getting a searching party together first thing in morning. Will Byers has gone missing in the marsh, and I fear the worst.”

“Shit, son,” Wayne said with a sigh. “Is there a reason we’re waiting until daylight to look for the boy?”

Steve explained what he suspected the cause was and why it would be safer for everyone, including Will to wait for sun rise.

“We will have a day and half to find him before the little ghoulie eats Will,” Steve said with a grimace. “Thankfully for us and unfortunately for Will, Red Caps like to chase their prey for a couple of nights before they eat them.”

Wayne nodded gravely. “I’ll be up with the crack of dawn to join ya. You contact Jim yet?”

“Not yet,” Steve said shaking his head. “He was my next port of call. I don’t want a lot of people because if we make too much noise it might startle the Red cap into doing something rash to Will.”

Wayne crossed his arms. “I feel like I should know more about these supernatural creatures, but for the life of me, I just don’t.”

Steve frowned. That wasn’t the first time he’d heard that from one of the older folks in town. Hopper may have only come back to town recently, but surely he grew up on the tales before the current Mayor’s father came to town and banished the teaching of the supernatural. Claudia and her family, Steve could understand, because the Hendersons had moved to town recently. But Wayne and Hopper and all the other older residents should know better.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he said instead and walked away.

He stopped at the garden gate, feeling eyes upon him, but when he looked back, there was no one, but the fluttering of the black drapes.

A strange sense of dread washed over him, sending a shiver down his spine.

~

“And you’re sure he said red caps?” Mayor Carver hissed, grabbing Chrissy wrist and hauling her to her feet.

She tried to wrench her arm from his grasp, but he held firm. “That’s what he said. He said the little boy had been taken by Red caps and that they were going to go look for him at sun up.”

Mayor Carver shook her once and then pushed her away, Chrissy stumbling to the floor from the force of it.

“I knew having you butter up that fool would bring me favor,” he snarled. “Thankfully the witch hunter will be coming in tonight and tomorrow we can accuse the witch of taking the Byers boy and trying to lead more good people to their deaths.”

Jason smiled from his seat next the fire. “And then perhaps we can turn our attentions to the Munsons, if for nothing else but to get rid of their horrid little cottage.”

Mayor Carver smiled at his son. “Yes, and then perhaps Hopper after that. Communing with devils and demons and whatever hellspawn that girl is.”

Chrissy never moved from her spot on the floor, praying that they would forget she was there.

“You know when it was discovered that this stupid bitch was a Sapphic and that her soulmate was a woman,” Mayor Carver said with snarl of his lips, “I thought our perfect plan would fall apart. But then you went and attacked the witch’s house. And opened up the perfect opportunity to get rid of all the ne’er-do-wells in this village.”

Jason stood up and walking over to where she lay prone. He sneered down at her. “Just don’t forget that I know who your soulmate is and I will kill her and you if you so much as put a toe out of line.”

Chrissy shivered in fear.

“I don’t know who she slipped her bonds in the first place,” he asked with a sneer. “The amulet should have kept her submissive until the wedding.”

Mayor Carver rummaged around the drawer in his table and pulled out a pair of scissors. He stood up and walked over to her, kneeling down to cut a bit of her hair, near where Robin had done her own snip.

He pressed a small brick on the mantel piece and it revealed a hidden room decked out in religious symbols and all sorts horrible things.

He walked over to a small table, placing the hair in a stone dish. He struck a match and set fire to the hair.

“The spell is as strong as ever,” Mayor Carver said absently.

“How much longer until we can take control of the county?” Jason asked, walking over to the table and peering over his father shoulder. “We have this place under our fist and once the witch is gone, all the dominoes will fall into place.”

“The next full moon,” Mayor Carver confirmed. “Then we’ll be able bind this town to our family’s power and then the spell will spread to the neighboring towns.”

Jason smiled wickedly. “Good.”

~

The rain began some time after dusk and fell hard on the town. A lonely carriage was the only souls to brave such a horrible storm.

It was black and somber and the driver was heavily cloaked against the deluge. The two horse that pulled carriage bowed their heads against the rain, their ears only flickering when the driver cracked his whip to force them on.

It rolled into the town of Hawkins like a specter in the fog. Those that dared to look out, shuddered at the gloomy sight.

Finally the driver pulled up to the mayor’s mansion and he hopped down from the front of the carriage, umbrella in hand. He held it open over his head as he helped the single occupant out of the carriage.

The man was dressed in somber blacks all but a single strip of white above the collar. His red hair peeked out from under his wide brimmed hat and his plain face was covered in freckles.

The driver walked with the man, holding the umbrella over him until they reached the front door, then the driver scurried back to the carriage and left the man alone at the door.

The man knocked on the door and soon a maid answered it.

He was led into the sitting room where both Carver men sat up drinking. Jason got to his feet as the man was shown inside.

Mayor Carver just grinned. “Welcome to Hawkins, Master Hagan.”

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @watermelonmite @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @cryptid-system @kultiras @kimsnooks

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @wheneverfeasible @micheledawn1975 @gloomysoup @dotdot-wierdlife @tartarusknight

10- @ollyxar @yesdangerpls @two-vampires-kissing @themoonagainstmers @estrellami-1

[chilling-seavey]

heyy can we get a dad george mom reader fic where reader gave birth a couple months ago and she’s a bit insecure about her postpartum body. george has always been super sweet and reassuring and genuinely thinks she is the most beautiful being on earth but she’s kind of in her head about it and he comforts her and they have sweet loving intimate time🤭

Thank you for this, anon!! This was a great follow up to this blurb and a great excuse to also blend it into a mother's day blurb :)

Warnings: Talk of body changes from pregnancy, insecurities, negative self talk, etc. (also please note: every body is a bikini body!!!!!!)

The bouquet of tulips sat in the light of the morning sun streaking in through the open living room windows. Forty-eight pink and purple and white tulips filled the crystal vase, nestled amongst baby's breath and crisp green leaves in a stunning arrangement done by professional hands, a small card tucked amongst the blooms with a hand-written message from your husband. You sat on the couch in your pyjamas to admire them, reaching out with a gentle hand to brush your fingertips over the petals and you leaned down to smell the fresh floral scent. 

Resting beside the vase on the coffee table was a modest black velvet box with a purple ribbon and you tentatively picked it up. From the other side of the coffee table, George was standing with your two-month-old son in his arms and swaying him slightly, patting his back to help him burp after his morning feed. He was watching you with this handsome smile on his face, eager for you to open your first ever mother’s day gift. 

You stole a nervous glance at him before slipping off the ribbon and then opening the top of the box to reveal what was inside. A dainty bracelet was resting in the bed of silk inside, its chain in your favourite jewelry metal and housing a single charm: a capital L, for the name of your son. You gently traced it with your fingers and a breath of awe. 

“Do you like it?” George asked, hopeful, “I know you told me not to go all out with the gifts but I just could not get you something meaningful…something pretty for the beautiful mother of my child.”

“It’s perfect, love, thank you,” you smiled softly at him, holding out an arm to encourage him closer. He stepped around the coffee table and kept a secure hold on your son in his arms as he leaned down to kiss you.

“It’s so nice out today, I was thinking we could go to the harbour and have a day out on the water.” George suggested as he stood up. 

You pondered it a moment as you closed the jewelry box and set it on the table in front of you. Having given birth in early March, you had healed from the delivery but the immense changes your body had gone through to carry your son were still lingering—one of which in particular was the excess skin across your abdomen and the stretch marks across your hips and thighs. You tried to tell yourself it was all normal and it was proof that your body had gone through the miracle of growing life and there was nothing to be ashamed of, but it no longer felt like your body. It wasn’t what you had looked like before. 

Not to mention that your husband’s career was amongst the sport filled with influencers and models and athletes alike. All the other Formula 1 drivers’ girlfriends and wives were model-thin and far too perfect for their own good; meaning you were starting to dread the concept of returning to the paddock amongst the perfection when you were feeling far less than perfection. Even the concept of going out on the water felt like dread in the pit of your stomach. 

“I dunno,” you answered George casually, “I’d prefer to stay in.” 

George’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at your passiveness, “Really? We haven’t really done much since Lawrence was born and I think it would be nice. I want to take you out…get the little one to dip his toes in the sea for the first time.”

It was incredibly tempting—not to mention George knew how much you normally liked to visit the harbour and be out on the water—but the idea of getting into a bathing suit sounded terrifying. But how could you lie to your sweet husband? You didn’t want him to fret over you or be worried…and you knew he was just being nice. 

So you ended up in your ensuite bathroom in your favourite bikini, feeling like absolute shit. The skin of your stomach was saggy and wrinkled from pregnancy and your thighs were scattered with stretchmarks and your breasts were swollen from breastfeeding and barely fitting in your top. It all felt so embarrassing. Your hormones were still fluctuating from the birth and the breastfeeding and as you stared at yourself in the mirror, the reflection staring back at you felt like the end of the world. 

The gentle knock on the door startled you. George called softly, “Love, I put that bucket hat ton Laurie—the one that Lando got him?—and he looks so stinking cute.”

“Okay,” you barely replied, voice a little shaky. 

There was a pause, then a gentle, “You alright?”

You tried to take a breath to level your emotions out but then you couldn’t hold it in anymore, “No.”

“Okay, I’m coming in, alright?”

You hid your face in your hands with a sudden sob as he came into the ensuite and right away he was rubbing his thumb over your waist and pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Oh, my love, what’s wrong?”

“I’m so ugly,” you confessed through your tears, dropping your hands to throw one in the direction of your reflection. 

George’s concerned expression fell into almost genuine hurt at your words and he cupped your cheek to pull your attention to him, “Hey, do not say that. You are not ugly. You never have been and you never will be.”

“It’s not me though,” you protested, looking back at the mirror, seeing how your cheeks were carved with tears and how he, too, looked through the reflection with sadness in his eyes. You continued, speaking to your face in the mirror, “This isn’t my body. I don’t know who that is!”

“Sweetheart,” George sighed, trailing his hands down your sides, over your exposed skin beneath the fabric of your bikini, “it is you. It’s a new and wonderful version of you. You’re a mother now, you carried our son and you gave him life and you brought him into this world with your body. That’s no easy feat.”

“I don’t want to look like this!” you sobbed, “I don’t want people to see me like this!”

“Why?” George asked desperately, reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“Because it’s embarrassing. I’ll embarrass you!”

George spoke your name firmly, taking your face in both of his hands to bring your eyes to his. His voice was firm, filled with love, but unmistakably serious, “You don’t ever embarrass me and especially not from how you look. I am so lucky to have you by my side…so proud…and I love to show you off to anyone who looks our way. You are my wife, darling. The mother of my son. I am…I am completely and utterly beholden to you.”

“But this isn’t what you signed up for,” you protested hormonally. 

“Yes, it is!” George laughed lightly in disbelief, “Yes, it is. You don’t think I knew how your body would change when you got pregnant? And I was begging to get you pregnant, don’t you remember? I loved to see your body change and still now, looking at you…God, love, you are the most gorgeous thing to me.”

Still in tears, you curled into him and his arms went right around you without a second thought. One hand on the small of your back and the other tangled in the back of your hair to keep you close, he held you. 

“I know it’s hard for you,” he whispered, fingers scratching through the roots of your hair, “I can’t imagine how strange it all feels, not recognizing yourself in the mirror, and I’m sorry you feel so rubbish. But I wouldn’t ever lie to you; I am in love with you, your soul, and your body. I promise. I have vowed to you exactly that.”

You nodded, clinging onto the back of his shirt with tight fists as you stood together in your bathroom, you in only a bikini. His hands gave your hips a squeeze to get you to step back so he could look into your eyes again.

George wiped your cheeks free of tears with his thumbs, “If you would be miserable going out on the water today, we don’t have to. I promise no one will say anything, though. But if you’d rather go get a burger in a hoodie and jeans then we can do that too. This is your day.”

You sniffled, debating his option, staring at the two of you in the bathroom mirror and how tenderly he held you, like you were so precious to him. He kissed your cheek, not rushing you. 

“I want to go out on the water,” you spoke timidly, trying to make up your mind, “But maybe I’ll keep my shawl on.”

“Whatever you want, my love.” George kissed your cheek again. He then whispered against your ear, hands slipping down to grab your ass, “If it helps, I think you look so fucking sexy right now in this bikini.”

You let out a small snort of amusement.

“I mean it,” he said, “and I kind of want to make use of the kid’s naptime to show you that I mean it.”

“George.”

“What?” he laughed and gave your bum a two-handed squeeze. 

You swatted his chest playfully but he retaliated with another kiss to your cheek, pulling a soft giggle from your lips as his hands roamed all over your body. You smiled into the mirror as he touched you all over, all the places he loved, and he peppered kisses down your jaw and neck. Your worried mind wouldn’t be cured by a few words in one morning but his presence and his love was reassuring and you knew he’d do anything you wanted to in order to help you feel as beautiful as he always saw you.

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[frflyavenue]

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

[pankesitopank]

Ateez reaction to their girl bestie being sad because she’ll “never get to wear jewelry from her boyfriend” since she’s never been in a relationship before? I’m all for secret crush ifykyk 👀

Cw:fluff fluff fluff!!!!!, secret crush (them to you), emotional comfort, best friends to lovers kinda, soft angst, slow burn feelings, love confessions (sort of)

note: OMG IT TOOK ME SO LONG WITH THIS. SORRY. THIS WEEK KILLED ME.

Sorry, sorry, sorry, again, but between not feeling inspired, I had to take the worst exam of MY LIFE!!! I hope it's what you had in mind, for me it ended up really cute.

I'm on my way to finish the other requests I have left!!!!!!!

HONGJOONG

You didn’t mean to say it aloud.

It slipped past your lips like a secret too heavy to hold in your chest, quiet and fragile in the soft lighting of Hongjoong’s studio, where you always ended up when the weight of the world felt just a little too sharp. He’d turned in his chair when he heard you sigh—deep and hollow, like something had cracked inside you—and asked, in that careful voice of his, “You okay?”

You shrugged, chewing on your nail. “Just tired.”

But he didn’t look away.

And that’s when it came out, barely more than a whisper. “ fuck I’ll probably never get to wear anything from a boyfriend.”

He blinked. Once. Twice. And you immediately regretted it, eyes wide as you rushed to explain.

“I mean—I didn’t mean it like that. It’s stupid. I just—like, I see all these girls getting bracelets or necklaces or cute rings and they always look so happy and loved and I’ve never—” You stopped yourself, suddenly hating your own vulnerability. “Forget it.”

But Hongjoong didn’t forget things like that.

He turned back to his desk slowly, like he was giving you space, but you noticed the way his fingers fidgeted with the chain around his neck—something he did when he was thinking too fast to speak. You assumed the moment had passed. That he’d let it go.

He didn’t.

A week later, he texted you late at night. Come by the studio if you’re still up.

You found him sitting on the couch, a velvet pouch between his fingers.

“What’s this?” you asked, confused but curious.

He looked up at you, expression unreadable for a heartbeat before softening. “Open it.”

Inside was a delicate silver bracelet—dainty, feminine, with tiny charms that matched your aesthetic so well it stunned you. A small crescent moon. A charm shaped like a tiny pen. A heart. It was exactly the kind of thing you would’ve chosen for yourself if you’d ever dared to imagine someone giving you one.

You looked up at him, jaw slack. “Hongjoong, what is this?”

He leaned back, arms crossed—not smug, but careful. Guarded. “It’s not boyfriend jewelry. Not unless you want it to be,” he said, voice rougher than usual. “But I don’t like hearing you say things like that. Because you deserve that kind of love. And if no one else is brave enough to give it to you…” He swallowed. “I am.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Because suddenly, that night in the studio didn’t feel like a casual comment anymore. It felt like the turning point.

And when he clasped the bracelet around your wrist himself—his hands shaking just a little—you knew this wasn’t just a gift.

It was a confession.

SEONGHWA

Seonghwa noticed the shift before you ever spoke it.

You were quieter than usual, lingering in doorways like your thoughts were too loud to settle. It wasn’t dramatic or attention-seeking—if anything, it was subtle. But Seonghwa was the kind of person who paid attention to silences more than words.

So when you looked down at a display case in a store and mumbled, “I guess I’ll never get something like that from someone,” he didn’t laugh it off.

He looked at you, really looked at you, and asked gently, “Why not?”

You shrugged, like it didn’t matter. “I’ve never even been in a relationship. No one’s ever looked at me like that.”

He didn’t reply at first.

Just walked next to you a little more quietly than before, thoughtful in that way that meant something was building in his mind.

Two days later, you found a small white box on your doorstep, tied with a silver ribbon. No note. No explanation. But the moment you opened it, your heart stopped.

Inside was a pair of earrings—small, intricate, and glimmering with soft white stones that caught the light like dew. Beautiful. Understated. Exactly your style.

You didn’t have to wonder for long.

Your phone buzzed with a message from Seonghwa.

“They reminded me of you. I hope that doesn’t sound weird.”

You blinked down at your phone, warmth blooming in your chest.

“It doesn’t,” you typed back. “They’re beautiful.”

Another pause, then his reply came.

“I think you deserve to feel beautiful. Even if no one’s said it enough.”

Your hands trembled a little as you picked up the earrings again.

Because Seonghwa didn’t say things unless he meant them with his whole heart.

And maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t just a kind gesture.

Maybe it was a beginning.

YUNHO

You’d meant it as a joke. Sort of.

You and Yunho were walking through a mall, passing a cute boutique with charm necklaces, and you’d pointed at a heart-shaped locket in the window with a dramatic sigh. “Imagine getting something like that from a boyfriend. Must be nice.”

Yunho laughed, bumping your shoulder. “You’re so dramatic.”

You snorted. “I’ll die single and jewel-less. The curse of being everyone’s favorite ‘just a friend.’”

He rolled his eyes, but you missed the way his smile faltered.

That night, he stayed up scrolling online stores, second-guessing every color and style. It was insane—he knew it. But the idea of you feeling unloved made something twist painfully in his chest.

A week later, you were hanging out in his room when he suddenly shoved a little bag into your hands.

“What’s this?” you asked, frowning.

“Just open it.”

Inside was a charm necklace—simple but meaningful. A tiny star and a single letter charm. Yours.

You stared. “Yunho…”

He scratched the back of his neck. “It’s not a big deal. I just—I don’t like hearing you talk like that. Like no one wants to give you things. Because I do. I’ve wanted to for a while.”

Your heart nearly burst.

Because Yunho never said things without laughter in his voice—but this time, he was completely serious.

And you didn’t even notice when your fingers slid into his, holding tight.

YEOSANG

Yeosang didn’t say anything when you told him.

You were lying on the couch beside him, scrolling through pictures of couple jewelry on social media and murmured, half-laughing, “damn i don't think I’ll ever get to post stuff like that… I'm kinda jel”

He didn’t tease.

Didn’t joke.

He just turned to you with that unreadable look—the one that made your heart race for reasons you tried hard to ignore—and nodded slowly.

“You’ll get it one day,” he said softly. “Someone’s going to see you and just… know.”

You scoffed. “nah I think I’m invisible when it comes to love, relationships and all that, you know?”

Yeosang frowned, then looked down at his phone, typing something quickly. He left the room for what it felt like 20 or even 30 minutes.

And returned with a tiny velvet box in hand.

He placed it in your lap without ceremony, settling beside you like it was nothing.

You opened it carefully, and nearly choked.

Inside was a gold-plated bracelet, etched with tiny stars and the first letter of your name. Dainty. Beautiful. Thoughtful.

You stared at him. “Yeosang—what—why?”

He didn’t meet your eyes at first. Just said, “Because you’re not invisible. And I hate the idea of you thinking no one sees how special you are.”

Your voice cracked. “Is this… friend jewelry?”

His gaze finally met yours, something burning beneath the surface. “Only if you want it to be.”

And you knew, right then, that he’d been watching you all along. Quietly. Deeply. Hoping for the chance to give you more than you ever thought to ask for.

SAN

You said it while you were fiddling with your necklace, eyes glazed over with that far-off, sad little smile San hated more than anything.

“Sometimes I think I’ll never get to wear something from a boyfriend… or from anyone at this point”

It wasn’t bitter. Just… resigned. Quiet. The way people say things they’ve made peace with, even though it still hurts.

San froze for a second. You didn’t notice.

Because if you had, you would’ve seen how his hand clenched around the soda can he was holding. How his smile slipped just a little. How your words—so casually dropped—landed in his chest like a stone in still water.

“Why would you think that?” he asked, carefully neutral.

You shrugged, curling your knees up to your chest. “I’ve just never dated. No one’s ever looked at me like that… like someone to love for more than… what? a month? two weeks? I don’t know”

He scoffed before he could stop himself. “That’s bullshit.”

You blinked at him.

“Seriously,” he added, this time softer. “If you think people aren’t looking at you like that, you're not looking hard enough.”

And he meant it.

Because San had looked at you like that for more than a year.

But every time he got close to telling you, something held him back. Fear, maybe. Or timing. Or that stupid, selfish part of him that wanted to stay your best friend forever if it meant never losing you.

So he said nothing.

But he did start working on something.

He’d seen the way your eyes lit up when you passed the booth at the street market that sold handmade accessories—specifically, the braided string bracelets with beads. You’d lingered there too long. Touched one. Smiled softly. Then walked away like you didn’t deserve it.

San went back alone the next day.

And a week later, he handed you a tiny paper bag with a shiny red string bracelet inside. Simple. Beautiful. Beads spelling your name in a soft rosie gold letters.

You stared at it like it was magic.

“Sannie…?”

He grinned. “I know it’s not fancy or anything, but I made sure it’s strong enough to last… is waterproof too.” He added with a soft smile

Your throat tightened. “Why?”

His gaze met yours. “Because I want you to wear something from someone who actually sees you.”

And there it was.

Not quite a confession.

But definitely not just a gift.

MINGI

You didn’t even realize you’d said it until Mingi went completely silent.

You were lying on his bed, scrolling on your phone while he played soft music from the speaker. Something slow, jazzy, romantic—almost painfully romantic—and that’s probably why your voice came out so wistful.

“How I would like to wear those cute little couple jewelry or something cringey like that. I’ll probably never, I think… that kinda sucks.”

He turned to look at you, his smile quite gone but not completely so you don't notice.

“Why would you say that?”

You shrugged, brushing it off. “It’s not a big deal.”

But Mingi took things like this personally.

Because when Mingi cared, he cared. And you were his person. His ride or die. The one who’d seen him through anxiety spirals and late-night breakdowns. The one who brought him snacks to the studio and sat on the floor just to keep him company.

You deserved the world.

So if he couldn’t be your boyfriend—not yet, not while he was still hiding all this love in the corners of his smile—then damn it, he’d be the next best thing.

The next time you visited his place, there was a small black box on your spot on the bed.

You eyed it suspiciously. “What is this?”

He flopped down beside you, playing it cool. “Just something I saw and thought of you.”

Inside was a necklace—silver, with a pendant shaped like a tiny lightning bolt. Simple. Sleek. Fierce. Just like you.

“Mingi—”

He waved a hand. “Don’t overthink it. I just figured if no boyfriend’s stepped up, I’ll do it for him.”

You raised a brow. “So… you’re my fake boyfriend now?”

He shrugged. “Only until someone real shows up.”

Your chest ached. “And if no one does?”

He turned, eyes suddenly serious. “Then I’ll keep doing it. Forever, if I have to.”

And you didn’t know it yet, but Mingi had bought a matching necklace too.

He just hadn’t had the guts to wear it in front of you yet.

WOOYOUNG

You said it as a joke.

Of course you did—because sadness made you awkward, and teasing made it easier to hide the ache in your chest.

You’d been watching a K-drama together, some swoony scene where the guy slipped a ring onto the girl’s finger under fairy lights and fireworks, and you’d muttered, “Lmao couldn’t be me. I’ll die fucking alone with naked hands”

Wooyoung had laughed at first. Then stopped. Then looked at you like you’d grown a second head.

“Why would you say something so cursed?”

You grinned. “Only facts come out of my mouth.”

He shook his head violently. “No. Nope. Rejected. Banned. You? Never getting a boyfriend or a cute lil ring or some shit like that?? Please.”

You shrugged, sipping your drink. “Guess I’m just not that type.”

He got weirdly quiet after that.

The next time he came over, he was jittery. Twitchy. Acting like he was hiding something. And after an hour of pacing and pretending like he didn’t have a small box in his pocket, he finally shoved it into your hands.

You opened it, expecting a prank.

What you got was a silver ring—minimalist, delicate, with a tiny red gem that sparkled like fire.

Your jaw dropped.

“Wooyoung…?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Okay so like, I’ve had this for a while. I saw it and thought it looked like you. Fire-y. Cute. You know.”

You blinked. “You’ve had it?”

“Yeah. I was gonna wait for your birthday or something but then you said that dumb thing about no one giving you jewelry and I panicked.”

You laughed—but you were blushing now, heart racing.

“And… are you giving this as a friend?”

His eyes flicked up to yours. “Do you want it to be?”

And in that moment, all the teasing in the world couldn’t hide the truth in his eyes.

JONGHO

Jongho heard your voice from the kitchen.

He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop—you were on the phone with a mutual friend, just talking casually, but the words hit him like a punch to the gut.

“No girl, you know I’ve never dated… I don’t know, I feel like I’m just not the kind of girl guys give attention like that… like, you remember, I dated a few guys but none of them lasted long enough to be introduced to my parents, imagine... much less lasted for a sad one month anniversary or some gift like a box of chocolates, a teddy bear or a necklace, ring, some earrings, y’know? Like, I've tried, you know that, it never works for me, maybe I'm just not anyone type I dont know girl.”

You laughed after, like it was nothing.

But Jongho couldn’t let it go.

Not because he disagreed—but because he completely disagreed. In his eyes you are more than cute. More than worthy. You are strong, loyal, radiant. The kind of person who made his chest tighten just by walking into a room.

That night, he sat at his desk for hours, scouring websites until he found the exact thing.

Two days later, he handed you a small, square box without saying much.

You frowned. “What’s this?”

He shrugged. “Open it.”

Inside was a pair of earrings—small hoops with a delicate, carved vine detail. Elegant but bold. Feminine but powerful.

“Jongho…” You blinked at them. “They’re gorgeous.”

“I know,” he said simply. “So are you.”

You looked up fast.

He held your gaze, voice steady. “Don’t think about yourself like that again. You deserve everything. And if no one else gives it to you…” His expression softened. “I will.”

And that was the first time you realized Jongho had been looking at you not just as a best friend—

—but as the person he was quietly, completely falling for.