“There is only one bed? I should’ve paid more in advance.”
Chamber immediately is trying to think of ways to buy a new bed - even if you’re in the middle of nowhere.
It’s easier for him to buy comfort and solve it that way then have things be awkward with his co-worker.
Thankfully, you tell him it’s more than fine and you can each stick to your respective sides. Afterall, it had been a long mission day.
Chamber does stick to his side like quite the gentleman. Except he keeps feeling you turn and toss in bed. He slowly moves a hand out.
“You’re okay? You seem to be swimming in the sheets.”
His cadence made you laugh as you only nodded, telling him your limbs weren’t shutting down after such a battle.
“Ah. I see. Do you.. Need help?” He opened his arm up giving you one opportunity.
Once snuggled in, Chamber waits till you fall asleep. But once you do? He’s out like a light. He appreciates closeness like this given he rarely indulges in it himself.
You were more than worn out - dead tired. Well, thankfully not dead, given the mission you were on only an hour ago. The team had arrived at a cabin lodging in backwoods Alaska for some much deserved rest. Chamber and you had been assigned as bunk partners for the night which you didn’t mind. The man was dramatic sometimes but he knew boundaries and was very respectful.
“What? Oh non.” You heard the French mans voice drain as he walked in the room. The beds - or well, bed - had been tiny. The room was not suitable for two people.
“Maybe I may buy another room? I cannot have this for either of us.” Chamber turned to exit the room but your palm stopped him.
“You heard the clerk. These were the only rooms they had.” You could feel the gravel in your throat, your body one blink away from collapsing. You could honestly care less if you had to share - you just needed sleep.
“I-Are you sure?” Chamber questioned as he slowly walked back into the room. You could only manage a nod.
The bed sheets were scratchy and the mattress old. The fiery jolts of pain still zapping through your muscles like subtle reminders of earlier.
“You are very tired but you cannot rest?” Chamber’s voice came out from his side of the bed.
“Very astute of you.” You growled out before you could stop yourself. The fatigue breaking any walls of manners you usually had.
“Pardon. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant.. Are you okay?” He reworded his question. His hand slowly settling onto the side of your arm.
You just shrugged. You didn’t have the energy to put into words how your body worked but you also knew you weren’t okay.
“May I help you?” Chamber’s voice was closer now, his head above your form as he stared down. You expected the rush of nervousness but it never came. The exhaustion beating whatever you could’ve felt.
“Sure.” You murmured, not sure what to expect.
Chamber’s hands wrapped slowly around your side. His nimble fingers worked soothing patterns in the fabric of your shirt.
Only after a while did you feel your body slowly start shutting down. The warmth and repetitiveness putting you in some kind of trance.
“Goodnight, Chamber.”
“Bonne nuit.”
Yoru :
“You sleep on the floor.” is the first thing you heard out of Yoru’s mouth as you walked in.
He’s such a gentleman isn't he? (Absolutely not.)
Anyways, he doesn’t fully mean it. Eventually he comes out ‘allowing’ you to sleep next to him.
“As long as you don’t move I won’t stab you. Now go to sleep.”
He won’t initiate any contact but if your foot even brushes him then he accepts his fate - not without a muttered curse or two.
Eventually he gets done with the antics and pulls your body back onto his.
“You’re lucky.” is all he whispers before he passes out, a smug smirk on his face despite hating the one bed situation.
“You’ll sleep on the floor.” Yoru grunted, his eyes narrowing as he walked into the room.
You didn’t even have to step in to know what he meant. The small lodgings that the team had stopped at was janky to say the least. Which meant that you and your ‘bunk partner’ Yoru had one bed.
Your eyes trailed over to Yoru as you stepped in giving him a look that could only be described as done. You didn’t even have to say anything as your energy got across to him.
“Fine. As long as you don’t move I won’t have to stab you.” His hand flicked over to the left side of the bed.
It wasn’t long before the both of you were settled awkwardly into the sheets. Yoru’s breath and the old radiator was the only thing you could hear.
“Goodnight.” You stretched out, your foot pushing and accidentally tangling with Yoru’s. Much to your surprise he didn’t push away or make a comment. The man only let out a grunt, his body slowly inching towards you as every minute passed.
Eventually he’s tired with the long game and tugs you into him by the waist. He doesn’t give any reason - Yoru rarely does.
“You’re lucky”, is the only thing you heard as your eyes fluttered shut.
Indeed, you were lucky.
Gekko :
“Oh! Sleepover time!”
Gekko is actually a bit excited to share the bed. He’s always openly affectionate with his friends - and you for that matter.
He asks if it’s okay if you guys shared it, which of course it was. He then proceeds to ask if you’d be fine with “completely normal cuddle time”.
He’s awkward but enthusiastic. Once you say it’s okay he hops into bed and cuddles his face right into your shoulder. His arms are wrapped around your waist like you’ll fly away if he lets go.
“We deserved this after earlier! Wait- how do you still smell good? This is criminal.”
Gekko was practically jumping when you two got in the old hotel room. You honestly didn’t know where he stored all that energy - definitely after such a grueling mission.
“Sleepover time! LETS GO!!!” He fistbumped the air as he made his way towards the bed. His eyes fogged for a second before he turned back to you. “That’s fine, right? You’re chill with this?”
You could only laugh. That was one of the many things you liked about Gekko. He was a joyful person but he didn’t let that overtake manners.
“Of course it’s fine.” You sat down on the edge of the bed, slowly unlacing your boots.
Gekko had flopped onto the other side, already beginning to crawl over. His arm slowly wrapped around your waist as his face pressed into your back.
“Can we.. cuddle? I think we deserve it, ya’ know?” His voice was slightly nervous which only made your heart warm even more.
“Sure.”
“Yes!” He paused as his hand wrapped tighter around you. You could feel his nose crinkling against your back. “How do you still smell good? I smell like a barn..!”
“What’s new?” You joked as you leaned back to slip him beside you. He only threw his hands up in mock anger.
“This is criminal!”
Sage :
Sage immediately sees the bed and feels bad for both of you.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware it was one bed. Will you be able to get sleep like this?”
She doesn’t really ask if sharing the bed is okay. She just thinks of it like the mission. Not that she doesn’t care for your boundaries - she absolutely does!
The moment you both got into bed she gets tense. Not from the proximity, just from the stresses of the day.
She sits up a bit to lotion her legs and arms. She usually has a set routine at home.
She of course notices you staring as well.
“Would you like some?” She pours some of the lotion on your limbs with a smile. Her hands were warm as she rubbed them in.
You hadn’t expected her to go above and beyond but you weren’t complaining. Given her powers she always knew how to be soothing.
In no time the two of you were asleep, hands brushing together in the middle and feet tangled up in the sheets.
Sage always had a routine before bed. She needed it given how her body felt after rejuvinating everyone else - along with the stresses of organizing missions.
Tonight was no different.
Despite sharing a bed, she found her limbs aching for lotion and the usual roll out. She had hoped that you wouldn’t think of her odd but she had to do it.
Her hands rubbed the lavender lotion against her skin, the aches and pains dulling from the tedious mission.
She looked back as she felt eyes on her. Your eyes.
“Would you like some?” She finished with her own legs, her hands turning towards yours. You could only nod as you pushed up.
You had expected her to plop some lotion in your hands and tell you to rub it in. Nope.
She had started rubbing deep circles into your calves, your body relaxing immediately.
“Lavender helps with sleep. Don’t resist it.” She whispered softly, her hands making their rounds before she settled next to you.
The sides of your hands brushed as she moved her feet to tangle against yours under the sheets. She only gave you a soft smile as her pinky intertwined with yours.
“Night night.” Her voice cooed, her glowing eyes finally shutting.
“Night, Sage. Thank you.” You whispered back, your pinky tightening slightly.
Miks was at first curious about your music tastes. But the more the time passed, the more he realized that it was in fact deeper than that. As for Gekko, he always had crush a on you, and always acted on it. Miks' inquiries about your music tastes got him curious too. After all, wasn't music also a tool to bring people closer ?
Word count : ~ 3, 107
Reading time : approximately 13 min
Miks approximately knew the music tastes of every agent of the protocol and what made them appreciate a music over another. He knew for instance how Iso loved underground C-rap or how Yoru had a soft spot for Japanese hip hop. He knew how Raze loved latino sonority that encouraged her hips to dance in her music while working in her workshop or how Gekko loved low basses that echoed in his bones when he lied down on his bed or when he played basketballs with his crew.
But when it came to you, he absolutely had no idea. It was quite ironic since you often wore headphones. It was even quite rare to see you without them. Yet, you never shared a playlist and he never managed to see it, and had never been able to see it over your shoulder when you chose a music before training or working out.
When he arrived at the protocol, the first thing he wondered about you was your music taste. When he asked Clove, they admitted that they had no idea. He then asked Gekko, whom he quickly befriended upon arriving in the protocol, and even him had no idea despite the fact that he had quite the crush on you.
When he asked you directly, you paused whatever activity you were doing to deeply think about his question.
“Hm. I don’t know,” you shrugged.
Miks was slightly taken aback but not deterred. It wasn’t rare that people were attracted to a style without knowing anything of it.
“Can I see your playlist so I can have an idea ?”
That simple question got you protectively holding your phone against your chest while smiling nervously.
“I’d prefer if not. I’m...quite shy about the songs I listen to.”
After hanging out with you for quite some time, he agreed with the fact that you indeed were very shy about your music. The only exception seemed to be Wingman. You had no problem lending your headphones to the yellow enthusiastic creature. Miks noticed how Wingman sometimes bobbed his head along whatever melody he was listening to or lied down motionless on your lap, a surprisingly wise expression on his face.
“He seems to like what he's listening to,” Gekko gently nudged your arms as he sat down next to you in the VLT/R.
You looked down at the small radivore creature and fondly caressed his little belly.
“He looks like he’s about to drop some riddle and say some proverb,” you snorted.
Miks, who was sat on your other side, let out a small chuckle.
“So the music he’s listening to must be calm enough to not overstimulate him.”
You immediately noticed the slight inflection in his voice that suggested that he was mentally taking notes.
“What’s this obsession with trying to find out what music I’m listening to ?”
His smile widened slightly, highlighting the charms in his hazel eyes. It was a thing you’ve noticed. Him and Gekko were quite alike. No wonder they grew close quickly. This attractive light that was filled on the joy they procured to others with their charms and passion was what lured you so easily towards them. Yes, you definitely had a type.
“Knowing your tastes in music would help me make you a playlist.”
Your eyes squinted slightly at his words, as if you were trying to decipher a hidden motive in them. And then, you remembered that Miks had a heart too pure and actions too genuine to hide any malicious intent.
“And why...do you want to make me a playlist ?” you asked with a confusion tainted with wariness.
On your lap, Wingman jumped on his feet and started to wiggle his little hips. It didn't go unnoticed by Miks.
“So that in some way I can give you a boost of motivation and energy,” he rubbed his neck and his eyes exposed a shy eagerness that almost made you swoon. “I would like to mix some songs you like so you could listen to them while training, or during missions.”
“He’s very good at this, you know,” Gekko approved. “He managed to do a mashup of ‘Timeless’ by Ambar Lucid and ‘Caution’ by Cuco. Here, listen.”
He caught you off-guard by suddenly leaning in your personal space, putting an ear-bud in your ear, the pad of his fingers gently brushing your skin. Your heart had the jump your body didn't do. Gekko’s chocolate eyes filled your vision, smiling, while his breathing danced on the skin of your face. As you started to admire each freckles that decorated his warming visage, you felt to gentle yet very present hands on your shoulders and a warm breath against your ear.
In the corner of your sight, you saw Miks’ hazel eyes staring at you as his chin settled on your shoulder.
“What do you think ?” Miks asked.
You totally forgot that you were supposed to be attentive to the tune playing in your ear. Flustered, you diverted your gaze and your eyes met Wingman’s who would have raised an eyebrow if he had any. Meanwhile, Miks and Gekko exchanged a knowing look. It seemed like they had more in common than expected and shared the same tastes they had in people.
“Do you like it ?” Miks brought your attention back with mischief in his voice. “Did I pass the test ?”
The music was in fact good to your ear, the low basses of ‘Caution’ and the soft eeriness of Ambar Lucid’s voice was quite the soothing mix.
“I don’t know what test you’re talking about but yeah, I do like it.”
“Told you he was good !” Gekko grinned.
“If you want,” Miks leaned back a little, giving you a bit of space while his hands remained gently on your shoulders, “once we get back to HQ, we can go to my room so I can mix some mashups for you.”
You raised an eyebrow at him, letting out a throat noise that implied that you weren't fooled.
“Is this another one of your strategies to know what songs I listen to ?”
“Is it working ?”
Gekko leaned back as well, but his body was still turned towards yours.
“I’m curious about your music tastes too. You seem to vibe with the music each agent listen to without any problem but what about you ?”
It was something Miks had also noticed. You seemed fine with anything you heard, but he still wondered what you actually listened to. Stealing a glance at Wingman, he momentarily felt quite envious of the small creature who was currently break dancing on your lap, your headphones still on his small head.
“Alright,” you finally conceded. “But no mocking my music choices.”
Miks and Gekko exchanged a look, blinking in almost bafflement.
“Who does that ?” Gekko said with an innocent confusion.
“I don’t joke with the music people like,” Miks reassured you. “I cook with it. That’s different.”
Somehow, these words eased some of the nerves that started to shake at the thought of sharing what you liked to listen to. Not all of it, but it was enough for the moment. Plus, the eagerness these two were showing reminded you of puppies.
And who didn't like puppies ? Not you.
When the VLT/R finally arrived back at the headquarters, you followed the boys in Miks room, Wingman comfortably settled on your shoulder, bopping his head. You were quite surprised of all the vinyl records and mixing consoles in his room. You knew he was a DJ before he joined the protocol. Seemed like he fitted the stereotype. You sat down on the bed, Gekko soon joining your side.
“Your room looks like a music shop,” you hummed.
“I thought the same thing the first time I came here,” Gekko snickered.
Miks sat down on his desk chair, grab his pc then rolled his seat in your direction.
“Well I have to fit the job’s description, don’t I ?” he winked. “So ? Do you have any artist or style in mind for a mashup ?”
At the gentle expectation in his eyes and words, your nerves started to spike again. Feeling your nervousness, Wingman took off your headphones to put it around your neck. He then patted your shoulder with an encouraging gurgling noise. You fondly played with his little cheeks, chuckling and completely oblivious of the two envious stare on the small creature who seemed to turn yellower.
“I have a question, though,” you cleared your throat and looked back at Miks.
“I’m all ears.”
You pressed your lips together and took a deep breath. Gekko pressed an encouraging hand on your back and gave you a warm smile.
“Why wanting to make me a playlist so bad ? Is there a reason in particular or is it just your DJ pride being touched ?”
There was something in his gaze that was suddenly so intense you almost felt intimidated. Unbeknownst to you, Miks felt almost defeated that he couldn't provide you with musical stim. Since he did it with every agent of the protocol (even Viper who wouldn't admit that she listened to her personal playlist in her lab) except for you, he thought at first that it was indeed his DJ pride. Then Gekko talked a lot about you, next he met you and understood why the Angelino initiator loved you so much. He already created some prod while recollecting the sight of you and Gekko laughing as you played video games together. His will to give you a playlist personally crafted by him was so big he almost felt guilty during your last mission that he couldn't boost your moral personally in some way.
“Is it bad that I want to be one of the reasons why you keep fighting ?”
Gekko perked at his words. He understood the feeling greatly. Since he arrived at the protocol, you have been nothing less than welcoming and supportive. You helped him filled the gap he had with other agents, encouraged him to take breaks when he was too stubborn to take any, took care of him when he was injured and kept him company the rare times his thoughts became too loud. Wanting so bad to know about your music taste was a bit more than simple curiosity. It was a desire to be closer to you.
Gekko wasn’t fooled. He suspected that Miks’ feelings for you started to bloom into something else than friendship. But instead of feeling an ounce of jealousy, he was glad that someone like him was around you. Gekko suddenly remembered you asking them to not mock you about your tastes in music.
“Hey, don’t be nervous,” he gently wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer. “We would never mock you about what you like. Why would you even think that in the first place ?”
“Yeah I know you’re far from being assholes,” you shyly smiled. “I...uh...once had a boyfriend who was making fun of me for listening to musicals and movie sound tracks.”
“I’m glad he’s an ex.”
“Kurac* !” Miks hissed with an hostility that didn't match his usual lightheartedness. “Forget him, he was dick.”
“Yes he was,” you nodded.
“Did he at least get beat up ?”
The three of you (yes three, don’t forget Wingman) looked at him with surprise, but Miks kept looking at you expectantly.
“Well, if it can reassure you, his mother gave him quite the scolding, if you know what I mean. When she discovered...uh...how hurtful her own son can be, she disowned him.”
They both noticed how you let out some details but didn't comment on it. They were here to create the perfect musical boost for you, not to criticize you.
“Win for the mom,” Gekko approved.
Wingman saluted and applauded. Miks nodded approvingly and opened the pc on his lap.
“Anyway, we’re here to make music, aren’t we ?” the Croatian controller’s carefree tone came back. “Do you have any songs in mind when it comes to a mashup ?”
You nodded, yet a very clear shadow of uncertainty was still present on your traits.
“I do, but I’m pretty sure they’re not mashup-able.”
But Miks just confidently grinned.
“Challenge accepted. Bring it.”
You looked back at Gekko who still had his arm around your shoulders. He calmly winked at you.
“I was thinking about Jamie Mercato’s version of ‘Freeze your Brain’ from Heathers the musical and Davy Jones’ theme from Pirates of the Caribbean.”
Miks immediately took notes. It was indeed quite a challenge. As soon as he opened the software on his pc, different ideas yet many obstacles faced him. Your request could almost be considered as rude. But he was fine with that. He immediately entered the zone despite Wingman hopping on his shoulder.
“Oh I love this movie !” Gekko perked up. “We should watch it at our next movie marathon with the others. What’s your favorite movie of the franchise ?”
Meanwhile, you and Gekko casually chatted on his bed. The initiator smoothly invited you to lay down with a light tug on your shoulders and you just followed the movement. Gekko loved hearing you yapping. As you kept debating on why which movie was better than another, Miks would sometimes broke out of his focus and glanced at you two, and he would notice how close your faces got. He was somewhat surprised of the feeling of envy that overwhelmed him at the sight.
“I need a shower,” you suddenly said. “Is it okay if I use yours ?”
Miks had a small jump as he blinked out of his daze. He heard Wingman comfortably settled on his head snickering as he could feel Gekko amused gaze on him.
“I don’t mind !” he shook his head. “Clean towels are in the first drawer. You could also borrow clothes if you want.”
Gekko’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Oh thanks ! That’s sweet.” you smiled. Once you took what you needed, you winked at the three of them. “I won’t drown, promise.”
The second the door of the bathroom closed, Gekko turned towards Miks.
“Man, how are you so smooth ?”
“Ha ! Don’t act like I didn't saw you earlier !” Miks laughed. “For an instant, I thought you two were about to kiss.”
“If only.”
The Croatian controller noticed the dreamy tone of the Angeleno initiator.
“They’re definitely more comfortable with you around,” Miks calmly said.
“Huh ? They’re more comfortable with you !”
Wingman clapped in his small hands to grab their attention then pointed at the both of them at the same time. In Wingman’s point of view, the both of them were good for you. The radivore creature always noticed how your movements seemed lighter every time one of them were around. The sight often made his small heart feel warm. The two agents looked at him and stayed quiet for a while. Miks focused then returned on his pc, finalizing the song, and Gekko lied back down on the bed.
“You’re maybe right, Wings,” Gekko said after a while.
It felt good to believe so.
Right on queue, you finally exited the bathroom, rubbing a towel on your head. You were wearing a comfy oversized hoodie and a short too big for you that you had tightened well around your waist.
“Phew ! Felt good !” you sighed. “I really needed that !”
Gekko sat up and patted the space on the mattress between his thighs.
“Come here ! I’ll help you dry your hair.”
“Thanks, that’s sweet !”
There weren't a single hint of hesitation in your movements as you sat down between his legs. Wingman shot him with a ‘I told you saw’ look as he happily dried your hair. His grin was so wide his cheeks almost hurt. Miks observed the two of you fondly. The sight not only warmed his heart, it also inspired him for some music later. Speaking of music, after hours of locking in, he finally managed to finish your challenge.
“I got the first music of your playlist !” He grabbed your attention by standing from his chair and moving in your direction. Once close enough, he leaned down toward you, one of his knee anchoring in the mattress between your thighs for balance. He then smoothly slid two earbuds in your ears. “I’m open to any type of criticism. Especially if it’s from you,” he winked.
The music flooded in your ears and you momentarily felt lost. Confusion submerged you when you realized that the lyrics of ‘Freeze Your Brain’ didn't feel as relatable as they used to be. Same for the heavily emotional tune of Davy Jones’ theme. You comfortably leaned back against Gekko’s chest as your brows furrows, your gaze anchored into Miks’ who didn't wavered his. The music still moved you, though. It felt like meeting with your old self who themselves looked up at you, reassured that they would have a better future despite everything they were enduring. You probably felt that way because, for a rare time in your life, you were currently warmly surrounded with people who really cared about you. To hell your ex-boyfriend saying that you would always end up alone. The two men with you silenced his demeaning voice which was deeply rooted in your head simply with their presence. Even Wingman enthusiastic and encouraging presence shrank his voice.
When the music stopped, you let out a long, emotionally charged sigh.
“Do you like it ?” Miks asked softly.
You took a deep breath.
“Clove were right,” you said with a notable awe. “You really are a bard.”
“I told you he was good !” Gekko affectionately shook your shoulders.
Miks let out a relaxed sigh he didn't even know he was holding.
“Challenge completed ! I can make you other musics if you want. It doesn't have to be mashups.”
Your looked up at him, then back at Gekko, then finally Wingman who happily waved at you. You were very well surrounded. It felt good. Warm.
“Can we spend more moments like this ?” you asked. “Us four, I mean.”
Gekko hugged you from behind and lulled you from side to side.
“Fine by me ! But next time, we should bring snacks.”
“I already have all we need for a nice musical setting,” Miks gestured at the very present collection of records in his room before messing with your hair. “And I have a personal playlist to craft for you, remember ?”
And Wingman hopped on your lap to boop your nose.
You were a bit scared of judgment at first, but it seemed like music brought you closer to what you really needed : a trio of puppy-like agents who cared for you.
*Kurac ! : it basically means 'dick'
I made it ! It was long and I had difficulties writing the end but I made it ! Miks and Gekko (and Wingman, let's not forget about Wingman) were such a warm sight together. I had to write something.
Anecdote 1 : I really started this fic on a whim. The second Gekko and Miks (and Wingman) appeared together on the trailer, I opened ellipsus and started writing ideas.
Anecdote 2 : I wrote most of this fanfic while listening to Gekko's official Spotify playlist.
Thank you for taking the time of reading this ! I wish you a good whatever moment of the day you're reading this !
Hi! Can I request some hcs with Chamber, Tejo, Yoru and Iso? Where Fem/GN reader is introverted and shy on the outside but actually very expressive with someone they trust.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
⋮ Don't be shy <3
Chamber, Tejo, Yoru and Iso x Shy! Gn! Reader
↳ ꒰content꒱ Fluff, introverted reader
↳ ꒰TW꒱ Bad Grammar, Swearing, Reader with Social Anxiety in Iso's Part
↳ ꒰A/N꒱HEYY TYSM FOR REQUESTING I LOVED WIRITNG THIS
I wrote Iso's Part so fast cuz i have Social Anxiety so it was pretty easy writing it xD.
Chamber
• So Chamber is a Confident man we all know that and I fully Believe that him having a shy Partner is just perfect for him.
• Now i see Chamber as Someone who would tease you a lot when in Public just to see your red Face since heThinks its Cute. He knows you're more on the quiet Side when with other Agents or Generally Crowded Rooms.
• If you are alone with him its a totally different Story tho. You're just a whole different Person at this Point.
• Chamber is amazed how fast you switched up as soon as being Alone with him. The Second you and your Boyfriend leave The Room you start talking his Ear off about what happened Today and how your Day was.
Tejo
• Tejo also is very Confident but teases you less.
• While you and Tejo are walking to The Training Room you talk about how u slept and how your morning has been just a normal conversation but as soon as you enter The Room you got quiet.
• Tejo noticed how quiet it has gotten next to him, he looks at you a bit concerned ''you okay mi amor?'' he asks.
''yeah i just get very shy in Rooms with a few more people in it'' you tell him and the noted this in his head
• But don't think he just leaves it like that nononono he Starts Teasing you a bit, i mean he has to or how else is he supposed to show his absoloute sweet Love to you and if he's able to see a cute red Face he just can't Stop.
• You Love him regardless.
Yoru
• Yoru is an Asshole Thats for sure and he Teases WAY more than Chamber and Tejo together. But how could he not it's his Love Language and if it means seeing you Embarassed he totally lives for it.
• Being Alone with Yoru normally meant Peace and quiet , just you two laying in Bed or minding your own Business and mostly it was just you talking about stuff that had happened or random things and he listened.
• And being out In Public usually means you were dead Silent and of course yoru wouldn't be yoru if he didnt tease his awesome Partner
so as soon as you were inside the Cafe you always bugged him to go with you he Started his Action to embarass the living Daylight out of you and you ? you tood there and has to take it with the most redest Face ever seen trying to shush him.
• You hate him but at The same Time you Love him .. no Inbetween.
Iso
• You HATED being The Center of Attention more than anything and Iso knew.
• When You're Alone with him it was sweet, he was listening to you ranting about Stuff you found Interessting like a Book or a Series/Movie, you never felt anywhere safer than with Iso and thats what you loved so much about him.
• When You're out in Public though you start kind of hiding behind him, shielding away from Attention. Iso knew you hated it so when talking to other people iso was the one leading Conversations trying to take all the Attention away from you making you feel a bit more comfortable and you were absoloutly greatful for it.
sorry if this took too long after i got home from school i directly went to sleep and just woke up xD
this is the most company Omen has had in a while... he doesn't mind it one bit
Omen x Agent!Reader
parts [2], [3]
You watch Omen, who sits across from you in the break room, as he cleans the weapon in his hands. It’s a Phantom—you can tell as much by the rounded barrel and the shape of the body—but its design remains unfamiliar to you, piquing your curiosity. All the agents had customized their guns to some extent and you were no exception, but this variation was one you had never seen before on Alpha Earth or Omega Earth.
He doesn’t acknowledge your attention at first, not out of malice, but his own concentration. He’s already redone the red wrapping that covers parts of the handguard and the stock, and combed through the purple feathers that run along the top of the body. Now all that’s left to do is dust and polish. His gloved hands run along the raised wrought iron edges with sharpened precision as he runs the worn dusting cloth over the surface. These are the kind of tasks he enjoys; ones that demand his attention and force his wandering mind into a rare silence.
It’s not until you shift slightly, keening to get a closer look at his handiwork from over the table, that he remembers where he is. He glances up to your face, commits to memory every detail of the look of amazement on your face, and fails—as usual—to realize that he’s admiring. He doesn’t notice that his hand has slowed to a stop and yet, his mind remains tranquil all the same as he stares at you unabashedly.
It’s not until you glance up at him and toss him an easy smile that his mind begins to race and he’s quick to avert his gaze back down to the task at hand. You’re a relatively new recruit, though you swiftly found yourself in the good graces of the other agents. Cheerful, easy to talk to, and reliable—even Viper couldn’t find a reason to be cross with you. Omen had initially kept his distance as he does with all newcomers to the protocol. It’s easy for him to isolate himself; who would want anything to do with a monster like him?
You did, apparently. It started with sitting together in the breakroom. Short conversations turned into longer, more natural discussions over meals at the mess hall. Now, it’s only expected that where one goes, another is sure to be nearby.
Only now do you break the comfortable silence.
“Did you modify this yourself, Omen? It’s beautiful.”
Omen eyes the skull emblem that sits on the receiver. It stares back at him now and every time he aims down the sight and every time he pulls the trigger. Its eyes don’t glow now; the safety is on and the magazine is empty and he’s somewhere safe, far away from battle and bloodshed. But he can imagine their eerie red glow all the same. He thinks of the rush he feels when he watches a body crumple to the ground, lifeless. It sends satisfaction running through his veins, a twisted sense of gratification, but beautiful?
It’s a thoughtful pause before he responds.
“Yes, I did.”
You hum watching as he continues to massage the metal with polishing cloth under his thumb.
Omen has never been one to mind silence, in fact, he’s found that he craves it more often than not, but there’s something about this moment that he can’t quite explain. The thought of you standing up and leaving the room creates a pit in his stomach that he can’t ignore. It leaves him wracking his brain for something to add, to selfishly keep your attention on him for just a little while longer.
“And what of your’s? Killjoy has your Phantom, does she not?”
He doesn’t look up, but he can see you in the periphery of his vision. He sees the way the expression on your face morphs into one of pleasant surprise, that he remembered you excitedly mentioning last week that Killjoy agreed to help modify your stock rifle. Of course, Omen remembers. He remembers everything you say.
“She does! She hasn’t been able to do much work on it the last few days since she’s been on missions, but she said she has time this weekend and thinks she can get it done by Monday…” Omen continues polishing his rifle as he listens to you talk, pleased with his work.
You prattle on about the modifications—adjustments to the shape of the body to make it more rectangular, a purple paint job, RGB lights. You talk about other modifications you’d like to do on your other guns when you have the time.
Omen doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to; you always know that he’s listening. It shows in the way he remembers the details.
“I’m excited to see it! It was really fun to modify my Classic. I can’t wait to work on the others.” You chirp as Omen finishes the barrel.
Wordlessly, he sets down the cloth and admires the way the metal glints in the light. He angles it towards you for you to see.
You nod approvingly.
Then, Omen speaks. “I’m sure it will be…” He admires the way you look across from him, eyes bright, “beautiful.”
He loves the way you beam at him.
“Thank you, Omen! I think so too.”
He stands up, gun in hand.
“The reloading mechanism of this gun is special too. Care to join me in the Range? I can show you.”
“Would I!” You bound up next to him in matched paces. He’s much taller than you, forcing you to crane your neck.
He stares down at you as you walk together towards the door.
Hi! Can you write Tejo, Iso, Vyse and Yoru with depressed f!reader headcanons?
A/n: So this is my first time writing for Vyse and I actually don't know much about her character but I hope it kinda fits for her.
Tejo
Tejo doesn’t ask what’s wrong immediately, he notices the change first. You’re quieter. Slower. The spark in your eye is dimmer.
He doesn’t press. He watches, and waits.
“You haven’t been yourself lately.” It's unusually quiet when he says it. Late at night, when you’re curled up on the couch and haven’t said much for hours.
There’s no judgment in his voice just concern and care.
He starts staying close without drawing attention to it. He’ll walk into your room with coffee or a snack, sit beside you, and wordlessly put his arm behind you, waiting for you to lean in. If you don’t, he doesn’t take it personally.
Touch becomes his main language. A hand on your back, fingers brushing yours, knuckles against your thigh as you sit together. Grounding just letting you know he’s there.
He starts doing the little things, bringing your favorite hoodie when he knows you haven’t changed out of pajamas in several days.
Putting on your playlist even though he normally likes putting on music.
He’ll still tease you but it's different. Less flirty and instead more soft.
Like a quiet smile when you finally come out of bed. “Look who’s decided to grace the world with their presence.” His voice is warm, not mocking.
He gently encourage small routines. Not with force, but with partnership. “You eat, I eat. Fair?”
“I’ll shower if you do. Or even better we can just shower together.”
If you cry, he holds you. Doesn’t speak unless you ask him to. No “shhh,” no “don’t cry.” Just quietly being there. Soft fingertips brushing your back like you’re something delicate but still knowing that you are strong.
He might whisper, eventually: “Even like this... even on your worst day, I’d still choose you.”
“I’m not going anywhere, cariño.”
He notices what helps and what doesn’t. If words only make it worse, he stops talking.
When you're finally able to smile, even if just a flicker, he catches it instantly. “There it is.”
And later, when things get better, he never brings it up like it was a weakness.
If you ever apologize for how you were, he’ll cut you off gently
“If that’s the worst of you… I’ll take it every time.”
Iso
Iso also just notices the changes in you
The way you’ve been quieter than usual, how your laugh doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You say you’re tired, but he knows it’s more than that.
He doesn’t pry. He just stays with you.
Doesn’t bombard you with questions. Just sits beside you while you lie curled up on the couch, arms folded, eyes unfocused. The silence feels less lonely with him there.
“You don’t have to talk. But I’m not leaving.” That’s how he offers comfort. And his presence makes you feel less lonely.
He becomes more observant.
Brings you coffee or tea exactly how you like it, without asking. Sets your favorite snack beside you during briefings. Keeps conversations light unless you invite more.
If you go non-verbal or struggle to explain how you feel, he doesn't push.
Just gently takes your hand, resting it on his chest so you feel his heartbeat. His way of reminding you: you’re still here. you’re not alone.
If you sleep too much?
He quietly shuts the blinds, makes sure you’re not disturbed. But he also gently coaxes you to take a shower when the days stretch too long. “Just a quick one. I’ll be here when you’re done.”
He leaves short, notes when he can’t be with you.
On your nightstand:
“Did you eat today?”
On your mirror:
“Still my favorite person, even if you don’t feel like it today.”
One night, when you can’t stop the tears, he doesn’t say it’ll be okay.
Instead, he lets you cry into his shoulder, his arms steady around you, his voice low and soothing:
“I don’t need you to be okay. Just stay. That’s enough.”
He starts initiating small routines with you.
A walk after dinner. A shared 10-minute stretch in the morning. A show that you watch together. Something that you can just look forward to, even on the harder days.
On particularly bad days, when all you can manage is to exist
he’ll wrap you in a blanket, sit behind you with your back pressed to his chest, and whisper:
“I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to do anything right now. Just let me be here.”
If someone else brushes off your mental state with a casual “everyone has bad days,”
Iso’s response is calm, but there’s ice behind it.
“You don’t get to decide what ‘bad’ means for someone else.”
When you start showing small signs of improvement,
like getting out of bed a bit easier, making a joke again, making eye contact, he doesn’t make a big deal of it. But his smile lasts just a second longer.
One night, when he sees you smiling faintly at something on your phone, he leans against the doorframe and says quietly:
“I missed that look on your face.”
He doesn’t try to fix you.
He just loves you through it
Vyse
Vyse doesn’t ask, “Are you okay?”
She knows you’re not. She’s observant (painfully so) and the moment she notices your energy change, your slowness to respond, the way your laughter dims or vanishes, she clocks it.
Her first reaction isn’t emotional; it’s logistical.
She starts reshaping your entire day without saying a word. Adjusts your training load. Moves you away from missions she knows would burn you out. You don’t even realize you’re being protected until days later.
“You’re late.”
Her voice is sharp when you drag into training, but then she adds, quieter:
“I gave you an extra hour.”
There’s no accusation. Just her way of saying: I noticed. And I’m adapting.
She keeps you busy but not overwhelmed, because she knows stillness is the enemy right now.
“Come with me. I need someone competent,” she’ll say, dragging you into her rhythm. It’s not really about needing you, it’s about keeping you with her.
On the worst days, when you can’t leave your room, she doesn’t angry or pushes you.
She knocks once. Waits. Comes in silently. Sits by your bed, arms crossed, saying nothing. Just being with you. She doesn’t leave until you eat something, even if it’s just a bite.
She gets practical.
“Your laundry’s been sitting there three days. I’ll do it.”
“I changed your water.”
“You didn’t eat your food so I brought something else.”
The way she she does all of it makes it seem to others like she’s irritated with you, but she never stops doing it.
She won’t call it what it is. Not yet. But one night, after dragging you out to "review some mission” you slump against the wall and murmur, "I don’t know what’s wrong with me."
Vyse leans against the opposite wall, silent for a beat. Then:
“There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“You’re just going through something but I’ll hold the line until you’re ready again.”
She doesn’t do gentle touches much… unless you’re falling apart.
When you cry, really cry she freezes. Then cautiously places her hand at the back of your neck and pulls your head to her shoulder.
“Hey. Breathe. You’re safe. I've got you.”
You feel her fingers tangle slightly in your shirt that’s the only sign she’s struggling too.
If anyone dares to suggest you're "slacking" or “losing it,” Vyse ruins them.
Not loudly. Not directly. But even more icey than she already usually seems to be
“If they’re ‘slacking’ and still outperform you, what does that say about you?”
And she walks away before they can respond.
You become her shadow during this time. She makes sure of it.
“You’re not going back to your room. You’re staying with me.”
And just like that, you’re sleeping in her bed, in her routine, no refusal.
Her affection shows in the little rituals she builds around your healing.
She makes you brush your teeth before bed even if you don’t care.
She’ll sit behind you while you stare blankly at the wall, maybe brushing your hair or massaging you scalp.
If you do one thing for yourself (shower, eat, stretch) she marks it like a mission success: “Good. That’s progress.”
If you ever apologize for being “too much,” her reaction is instant and sharp:
“Don’t say that. Not to me.”
Then, softer, almost awkward:
“…You don’t need to always be perfect. Just mine.”
When you finally smile again. really smile, it catches her so off guard that she fumbles her gear.
She glares, flustered. “What? Don’t look at me like that.”
You tease her about blushing, and she mutters, “I should’ve let you rot in bed.”
But then, quietly, she adds:
“…I missed that look.”
Yoru
Yoru’s not good with feelings. Especially when they’re heavy.
So the first time he sees it, the lifeless stare, the way you go through the motions like a ghost he doesn’t say anything.
But you notice something strange:
He stops teasing. He stops disappearing after missions. He just… lingers. Watches. Silently clocks every crack in your armor.
You miss training once. Just once.
You get a knock at your door. Just a single knock and his voice through the door:
“You alive in there?”
When you don’t answer, he mutters a silent curse and slowly opens the door
He acts like you’re annoying him.
“You’re gonna make me come find you every damn morning now?”
But he’s already tossing you one of his jackets and grabbing you something to eat.
Doesn’t know how to comfort. But he knows how to show up.
You wake up some mornings and find little things left behind, a drink he knows you like, one of his jackets folded on the chair
Nothing flashy. Just quiet reminders: I was here. I’m thinking about you.
He keeps your brain engaged, just enough to pull you out of the fog.
“C’mon. I need you for training today. No one else can keep up.”
You know it’s a lie. You know he could ask someone else.
but the way he says it makes you feel like you matter. Like he needs you.
You stop joking back, and that’s when he really starts worrying.
He doesn't poke fun or push. Just sits next to you on the couch, nudging a cold drink into your hand.
“You haven’t been eating” he mutters.
You try to lie but he doesn’t buy it.
When you finally mutter, “I’m just tired. Of everything,”
His jaw clenches. He looks like he wants to say something but instead, he leans back and says,
“…Then we’re not doing ‘everything’ today. Just this.”
And he stays. All day. Doesn’t check his phone. Doesn’t tease. Just leans against your shoulder while you watch something, barely processing it.
You catch him staring at you when you’re zoned out, eyes unfocused.
He pretends he wasn’t.
“What?” he shrugs. “You look weird when you space out.”
But his tone isn’t teasing. It’s tense. Like he’s scared of where your mind is going.
You finally snap one night. Angry. Exhausted. You yell that nothing helps, that he doesn’t get it, that you’re drowning and he’s just sitting there.
He doesn’t leave.
Doesn’t yell back.
Just crosses his arms, stares you down, and says:
“…I don’t get it. But I’m still here, right?”
You ask, brokenly, “Why do you even care?”
And he goes quiet. Looks away.
Then mutters:
“Because you’re important to me, more than you know”
He doesn’t kiss you when you’re at your lowest, not right away.
But he touches your wrist. Threads your fingers together. Lets his thumb brush your palm, over and over, grounding you.
Quietly promises:
“We’ll get through it. Even if I have to drag your ass every step.”
The first time you laugh again, not even a big one, just a soft breathy huff. Yoru freezes.
Then smirks.
“There’s that dumb laugh.”
You roll your eyes, but he won’t stop looking at you.
“Took long enough,” he murmurs.
Later, when you’re resting your head in his lap, eyes half-lidded, you whisper, “Thanks for not leaving.”
He runs a hand over your arm and mutters:
“Told you already. I don’t stay unless I mean it.”
what Omen thinks of you? He thinks you're the stark of contrast of his existence, and yet you both could spend hours talking. But that doesn't mean you guys are close. You're such an oddball, disturbing him all the time even when you're both away from missions. He'll always be cold, try melting his heart. (Does Omen even have one?)
"No— I won't teach you how to knit.. Don't show that to each agent!"
Gekko
What Gekko thinks of you? Being one of the newer agents together, he thinks you'll get along with him. You both are closer in age, being mostly the younger agents. He's bonded with you in one mission before, he'll always brighten your days up. Though you don't talk all the time, it's always nice to chat with you.. he won't tell why would he?
"Look at wingman, I think he's really warming up to you. Huh? No way! He likes me more of course..!"
Chamber
What Chamber thinks of you? He thinks you're fun to tease with, being one of the newer agents after all. To think you wanted to learn French might've made him miss home... in the deep crevices of his heart. No, he would never tell you that or anything else personal. To him, it's all just flirts, maybe you could break that player ideology in him.
"My, to think you'd be this tipsy already? Non, drink more, I've got the bill."
[ gekko x gn!reader ] gekko has a nightmare. wingman goes to find the person that he knows gekko finds comfort in — you. wc: 1.6k
a/n: this is a continuation of this gekko fic, but this can be read as a stand alone.
the red lines that made up the time on your alarm clock read 3:28 am. it took another few moments before you realized what exactly had woken you up; there was someone tapping at the door. you groaned to signal that you were awake, still too half-asleep to form words but not asleep enough to be able to ignore it.
feeling your way along the wall, your hands finally find the door. you open it, but when you peer outside there is no one to be found. that is until you hear a warbling sound at your feet. through your sleep-blurred vision, you look down to find wingman.
he was shifting his weight from one of his stubby little legs to the other, and was now emitting a low whine. was he… worried? anxious? something was wrong. there had to be. why else would he be at your door at three in the morning, if not because something was wrong?
“hey, buddy,” you spoke softly. “what’s wrong?”
he gave you another high-pitched noise before beginning to scramble down the hallway. as expected, he stopped in front of gekko’s opened bedroom door. you hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should step in. it wasn’t your room, and while gekko and you were friends, it wasn’t as if he had given you the right to walk into his room at any given moment. even then, shouldn’t you knock first?
biting back that thought, you knew that wingman wouldn’t have retrieved you from your room in the dead of night for nothing. you followed him through the opened doorway and attempted to follow him through the dark room.
eventually, you heard the tapping of his claws on the ground and then the rustling of sheets; presumably, wingman was trying and failing to jump up onto the bed until he finally succeeded.
that theory was confirmed a few seconds later, as he finally turned on the lamp situated on the nightstand. he gargled in annoyance, closed his eyes, and shook in a way akin to a wet dog. with his eyes now adjusted to the light, he turned around and clambered his way over to sit on gekko’s chest.
the man in question was sound asleep. he was wearing a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants, dark green blanket tangled around one leg and covering half of his chest. his breaths were steady and shallow, every few breaths emitting the remnants of a snore. nothing seemed to be wrong.
at the end of the bed, dizzy seemed to have stolen a portion of the blanket for herself and was asleep in the nest she’d made of it.
“mateo?” you called his name gently at first.
he didn’t move. not that you would expect he would, being that he was very clearly fast asleep. wingman whirred at you.
with a deep breath, you stepped forward and put part of your weight onto the bed. you reached out and lightly shook him, calling his name once more. nothing. you shook a little harder, spoke a little louder. still nothing. alright, maybe you were getting a little worried now. how heavy did he sleep?
you leaned more on the bed, peering over his sleeping body. your weight supported by one hand, the other found his jaw. with your thumb on one side of his face and the rest of your fingers on the other, you turned his face gently to study his features. he seemed fine enough apart from the sleep lines carved into the left side of his face and the slight pinch of his brows. you called his name once again.
this time, he shot up in bed with a gasp. in doing so, his forehead collided with yours and sent you backwards. an attempt to catch yourself on the heel of your palms failed miserably as he moved his leg from beneath you. the little amount of support you had from your hands was swept from underneath you and you fell onto your back. your back and head were met with the warm and fuzzy sensation of his blankets.
although you were vaguely aware that his room smelled of him, you were now fully aware of the scent of lavender and sage that lingered to the blanket previously wrapped around him.
“y- wings? what the…” gekko groaned and rubbed at his eyes. it was another few moments before he registered that you were there. “y/n? what are you doing here?”
“that’s a good question.” you answered. you attempted to sit up once again, finally succeeding this time. “wingman woke me up. acted like something was wrong, so i followed him here.”
it was now that you noticed how off gekko looked. his eyes were wide and watchful, especially considering he had been fast asleep a few moments ago. his chest rose quickly and fell heavily, tanned fingers whitening with the grip they had on his bedsheets. wingman warbled absently as he scampered atop gekko’s lap and plopped down almost comically. he stared up at you expectantly, although you weren’t quite sure what he was trying to communicate.
gekko made a noise somewhere between a huff and a laugh. “i was having a nightmare. i guess wings knew… that, or i accidentally kicked him off the bed in the middle of it again.” the little green creature whirred at the word ‘again,’ but made no further complaints.
“ah. i wonder why he came and got me though? other rooms are closer than mine. neon’s for one, or even reyna’s. i assumed if he was looking for someone to comfort you, he’d go to her first. not that i wouldn’t comfort you! i just—”
“i understand.” he said, usual smile returning to his face. “i’m sorry about him, dunno what got into him. you should get some sleep though. it’s too early for this, little man.” he looked to wingman at the last sentence, who seemingly ignored him.
“well, goodnight anyway… and sorry for the scare. and goodnight to you too, wingman.” you said. the creature made a noise somewhat like a purr in response, followed by an indignant noise as he realized you were leaving.
your hand had barely touched the doorknob when you heard a thump, followed by the scampering of claws across the floor. wingman pawed desperately at your leg.
kneeling down, you asked him what was wrong. he shifted his weight from stubby leg to stubby leg, before turning around to look at gekko. the creature gargled, which made noticeable heat rise in gekko’s face.
“no! i mean, yes, but no.” he responded. again, wingman made a noise, and he spoke back. “it’s not like that…”
“grbghr.”
“ok, it is like that. but i can’t just— that’s not a thing, alright, buddy?”
“hmrg?”
“it’s just… a weird thing for humans to do. i’m sorry.”
“rgh.”
you never thought you’d see so much annoyance and attitude come from the small, blob-like creature that was wingman. finally, gekko sighed. he threw his head back and took a deep breath.
“he… wants you to stay.”
it felt rude to laugh. but you couldn’t help it. against your best attempts to stifle it, a small laugh escaped you. as strange a request it was, you didn’t mind it. you were far too lost in your sleepy state of mind to care much about it, but you also knew how persistent gekko’s friends could be.
despite the darkening of his cheeks, gekko moved over in his bed. in the back of your mind, you thought about moving back to your own room once the two of them were asleep.
however, as you settled in beside him, you began to drift off. the low trill of dizzy somewhat-snoring and the warmth radiating off of thrash didn’t help either.
the next thing you remember was the blinding light of whatever the hell had been shining into the room at this hour. you realized soon after that the shining was inside of the room, coming from the overhead light. brimstone stood in the doorway, jett and phoenix behind him snickering amongst themselves.
“what are you two up to?” brimstone asked. you couldn’t quite tell the tone of his voice — he sounded so stern and almost angry, as if he was your dad who had caught you in a more compromising position. yet, there was a playful lilt hidden in his voice.
“wingman happened.” you huffed, still too half-asleep to care to explain.
whether or not he was actually upset you didn’t know, but he reminded you that breakfast would be ready soon and to come to the kitchen once you were ready. you nodded, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes.
the door clicked closed. as the laughing and teasing jokes made by phoenix and jett disappeared down the hallway, you finally decided to get up.
you now realized the position that gekko was in. he was a stomach sleeper, but was laying half on top of you. one leg was thrown across yours, his arm wrapped around you, and his face tucked into the crook of your neck.
“hey,” you called, voice soft. “it’s time to get up.”
he didn’t answer, but wingman warbled and scampered across the bed to snuggle into the space between your bodies. an attempt to move out from under the man failed. he hummed softly, muttered something that sounded like “a little longer” and pulled you closer.
