#its called multi tasking

[mahouexo]

I love how Xivu is all like "you're not doing this in self defense you're doing it because you like it~"

And I'm sitting here like "I dunno how to tell you this man but I can do something for more then one reason. Sounds like you have a skill issue bro"

[nullbutler]

I think I should be allowed to have two lines of thought - the demons coerced their masters into the contracts and thus are the true devils of the story AND but wouldn't it be so sweet if they were 🥺 father figures??

[tennessoui]

me trying to figure out via episode title which the crown episode has princess diana dying: ok so “no woman’s land”, “gunpowder”, and “decommissioned” all sound like options

[colleendoran]

Great Big Good Omens Graphic Novel Update

AKA A Visit From Bildad the Shuhite.

The past year or so has been one long visit from this guy, whereupon he smiteth my goats and burneth my crops, woe unto the woeful cartoonist.

Gaze upon the horror of Bildad the Shuhite.

You kind of have to be a Good Omens fan to get this joke, but trust me, it's hilarious.

Anyway, as a long time Good Omens novel fan, you may imagine how thrilled I was to get picked to adapt the graphic novel.

 Go me!  

This is quite a task, I have to say, especially since I was originally going to just draw (and color) it, but I ended up writing the adaptation as well. Tricky to fit a 400 page novel into a 160-ish page graphic novel, especially when so much of the humor is dependent on the language, and not necessarily on the visuals.

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Anyway, I started out the gate like a herd of turtles, because  right away I got COVID which knocked me on my butt. 

And COVID brain fog? That's a thing. I already struggle with brain fog due to autoimmune disease, and COVID made it worse.

Not complainin' just sayin'.

This set a few of the assignments on my plate back, which pushed starting Good Omens back. 

But hey, big fat lead time! No worries!

Then my computer crawled toward the grave.

My trusty MAC Pro Tower was nearly 15 years old when its sturdy heart ground to a near-halt with daily crashes. I finally got around to doing some diagnostics; some of its little brain actions were at 5% functionality. I had no reliable backups.

There are so many issues with getting a new computer when you haven't had a new computer or peripherals in nearly fifteen years and all of your software, including your Photoshop program is fifteen years old.

At the time, I was still on rural internet...which means dial-up speed.

Whatever you have for internet in the city, roll that clock back to about 2001.

That's what I had. I not only had to replace almost all of my hardware but I had to load and update all programs at dial-up speed.

Welcome to my gigabyte hell.

The entire process of replacing the equipment and programs took weeks and then I had to relearn all the software.

All of this was super expensive in terms of money and time cost.

But I was not daunted! Nosirree!

I still had a huge lead time! I can do anything! I have an iron will!

And boy, howdy, I was going to need it.

At about the same time, a big fatcat quadrillionaire client who had hired me years ago to develop a big, major transmedia project for which I was paid almost entirely in stock, went bankrupt leaving everyone holding the bag, and taking a huge chunk of my future retirement fund with it.

I wrote a very snarky almost hilarious Patreon post about it, but am not entirely in a position to speak freely because I don't want to get sued. Even though I had to go to court over it, (and I had to do that over Zoom at dial-up speed,) I'm pretty sure I'll never get anything out of this drama, and neither will anyone else involved, except millionaire dude and his buddies who all walked away with huge multi-million dollar bonuses weeks before they declared bankruptcy, all the while claiming they would not declare bankruptcy.

Even the accountant got $250,000 a month to shut down the business, while creators got nothing.

That in itself was enough drama for the year, but we were only at February by that point, and with all those months left, 2023 had a lot more to throw at me.

Fresh from my return from my Society of Illustrators show, and a lovely time at MOCCA, it was time to face practical medical issues, health updates, screening, and the like. I did my adult duty and then went back to work hoping for no news, but still had a weird feeling there would be news.

I know everyone says that, but I mean it. I had a bad feeling.

Then there was news.

I was called back for tests and more tests. This took weeks. The ubiquitous biopsy looked, even to me staring at the screen in real time, like bad news. 

It also hurt like a mofo after the anesthesia wore off. I wasn't expecting that.

Then I got the official bad news.

Cancer which runs in my family finally got me. Frankly, I was surprised I didn't get it sooner.

Stage 0, and treatment would likely be fast and complication-free. Face the peril, get it over with, and get back to work. 

I requested surgery months in the future so I could finish Good Omens first, but my doc convinced me the risk of waiting was too great. Get it done now.

"You're really healthy," my doc said. Despite an auto-immune issue which plagues me, I am way healthier than the average schmoe of late middle age. She informed me I would not even need any chemo or radiation if I took care of this now.

So I canceled my appearance at San Diego Comic Con. I did not inform the Good Omens team of my issues right away, thinking this would not interfere with my work schedule, but I did contact my agent to inform her of the issue. I also contacted a lawyer to rewrite my will and make sure the team had access to my digital files in case there were complications.

Then I got back to work, and hoped for the best.

Eff this guy.

Before I could even plant my carcass on the surgery table, I got a massive case of ocular shingles.

I didn't even know there was such a thing. 

There I was, minding my own business. I go to bed one night with a scratchy eye, and by 4 PM the next day, I was in the emergency room being told if I didn't get immediate specialist treatment, I was in big trouble.

I got transferred to another hospital and got all the scary details, with the extra horrid news that I could not possibly have cancer surgery until I was free of shingles, and if I did not follow a rather brutal treatment procedure - which meant super-painful  eye drops every half hour, twenty-four hours a day and daily hospital treatment - I could lose the eye entirely, or be blinded, or best case scenario, get permanent eye damage.

What was even funnier (yeah, hilarity) is the drops are so toxic if you don't use the medication just right, you can go blind anyway.

Hi Ho.

Ulcer is on the right. That big green blob.

I had just finished telling my cancer surgeon I did not even really care about getting cancer, was happy it was just stage zero, had no issues with scarring, wanted no reconstruction, all I cared about was my work. 

Just cut it out and get me back to work.

And now I wondered if I was going to lose my ability to work anyway.

Shingles often accompanies cancer because of the stress on the immune system, and yeah, it's not pretty. This is me looking like all heck after I started to get better.

The first couple of weeks were pretty demoralizing as I expected a straight trajectory to wellness. But it was up and down all the way. 

Some days I could not see out of either eye at all. The swelling was so bad that I had to reach around to my good eye to prop the lid open. Light sensitivity made seeing out of either eye almost impossible. Outdoors, even with sunglasses, I had to be led around by the hand.

I had an amazing doctor. I meticulously followed his instructions, and I think he was surprised I did. The treatment is really difficult, and if you don't do it just right no matter how painful it gets, you will be sorry. 

To my amazement, after about a month, my doctor informed me I had no vision loss in the eye at all. "This never happens," he said.

I'd spent a couple of weeks there trying to learn to draw in the near-dark with one eye, and in the end, I got all my sight back.

I could no longer wear contact lenses (I don't really wear them anyway, unless I'm going to the movies,) would need hard core sun protection for awhile, and the neuralgia and sun sensitivity were likely to linger. But I could get back to work.

I have never been more grateful in my life.

Neuralgia sucks, by the way, I'm still dealing with it months later.

Anyway, I decided to finally go ahead and tell the Good Omens team what was going on, especially since this was all happening around the time the Kickstarter was gearing up.

Now that I was sure I'd passed the eye peril, and my surgery for Stage 0 was going to be no big deal, I figured all was a go. I was still pretty uncomfortable and weak, and my ideal deadline was blown, but with the book not coming out for more than a year, all would be OK. I quit a bunch of jobs I had lined up to start after Good Omens, since the project was going to run far longer than I'd planned.

Everybody on the team was super-nice, and I was pretty optimistic at this time. But work was going pretty slow during, as you may imagine.

But again...lots of lead time still left, go me.

Then I finally got my surgery.

Which was not as happy an experience as I had been hoping for.

My family said the doc came out of the operating room looking like she'd been pulled backwards through a pipe, She informed them the tumor which looked tiny on the scan was "...huge and her insides are a mess."

Which was super not fun news.

Eff this guy.

The tumor was hiding behind some dense tissue and cysts. After more tests, it was determined I'd need another surgery and was going to have to get further treatments after all.

The biopsy had been really painful, but the discomfort was gone after about a week, so no biggee. The second surgery was, weirdly, not as painful as the biopsy, but the fatigue was big time.

By then, the Good Omens Kickstarter had about run its course, and the record-breaker was both gratifying and a source of immense social pressure.

I'd already turned most of my social media over to an assistant, and I'm glad I did.

But the next surgery was what really kicked me on my keister.

All in all, they took out an area the size of a baseball. It was  hard to move and wiped me out for weeks and weeks. I could not take care of myself. I'd begun losing hair by this time anyway, and finally just lopped it off since it was too heavy for me to care for myself. The cut hides the bald spots pretty well.

After about a month, I got the go-ahead to travel to my show at the San Diego Comic Con Museum (which is running until the first week of April, BTW). I was very happy I had enough energy to do it. But as soon as I got back, I had to return to treatment.

Since I live way out in the country, going into the city to various hospitals and pharmacies was a real challenge. I made more than 100 trips last year, and a drive to the compounding pharmacy which produced the specialist eye medicine I could not get anywhere else was six hours alone.

Naturally, I wasn't getting anything done during this time.

But at least my main hospital is super swank.

The oncology treatment went smoothly, until it didn't. The feels don't hit you until the end. By then I was flattened.

So flattened that I was too weak to control myself, fell over, and smashed my face into some equipment.

Nearly tore off my damn nostril.

Eff this guy.

Anyway, it was a bad year.

Here's what went right.

I have a good health insurance policy. The final tally on my health care costs ended up being about $150,000. I paid about 18% of that, including insurance. I had a high deductible and some experimental medicine insurance didn't cover. I had savings,  enough to cover the months I wasn't working, and my Patreon is also very supportive. So you didn't see me running a Gofundme or anything.

Thanks to everyone who ever bought one of my books.

No, none of that money was Good Omens Kickstarter money. I won't get most of my pay on that for months, which is just as well because it kept my taxes lower last year when I needed a break.

So, yay.

My nose is nearly healed. I opted out of plastic surgery, and it just sealed up by itself. I'll never be ready for my closeup, but who the hell cares.

I got to ring the bell.

I had a very, VERY hard time getting back to work, especially with regard to focus and concentration. My work hours dropped by over 2/3. I was so fractured and weak, time kept slipping away while I sat in the studio like a zombie. Most of the last six months were a wash.

I assumed focus issues were due (in part) to stress, so sought counseling. This seemed like a good idea at first, but when the counselor asked me to detail my issues with anxiety, I spent two weeks doing just that and getting way more anxious, which was not helpful.

After that I went EFF THIS NOISE, I want practical tools, not touchy feelies (no judgment on people who need touchy-feelies, I need a pragmatic solution and I need it now,) so tried using the body doubling focus group technique for concentration and deep work.

Within two weeks, I returned to normal work hours.

I got rural broadband, jumping me from dial up speed to 1 GB per second.

It's a miracle.

Massive doses of Vitamin D3 and K2. Yay.

The new computer works great.

The Kickstarter did so well, we got to expand the graphic novel to 200 pages. Double yay.

I'm running late, but everyone on the Good Omens team is super supportive. I don't know if I am going to make the book late or not, but if I do, well, it surely wasn't on purpose, and it won't be super late anyway. I still have months of lead time left.

I used to be something of a social media addict, but now I hardly ever even look at it, haven't been directly on some sites in over a year, and no longer miss it. It used to seem important and now doesn't.

More time for real life.

While I think the last year aged me about twenty years, I actually like me better with short hair. I'm keeping it.

OK. Rough year. 

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Back to work on The Book.

And only a day left to vote for Good Omens, Neil Gaiman, and Sandman in the Comicscene Awards. Thanks. 

[yawnderu]

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II (2022) Starter Pack

New to the fandom and don't know where to start? ✨

What is Modern Warfare II?

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II is a 2022 first-person shooter video game developed by Infinity Ward and published by Activision. It is a sequel to the 2019 reboot and serves as the nineteenth installment in the overall Call of Duty series.

Like its predecessor, the game takes place in a realistic and modern setting. The campaign follows multi-national special operations unit Task Force 141 and Mexican Special Forces unit Los Vaqueros as they attempt to track down terrorist Hassan Zyani, who is in possession of American-made ballistic missiles.

A sequel, titled Modern Warfare III, is scheduled to be released into Call of Duty HQ, on November 10, 2023.

What is Task Force 141?

Task Force 141 is  a joint multi-national special operations task force and counter-terrorism military unit formed by Captain John Price, consisting of the best hand-picked operators special forces units can offer.

Despite having an unknown number of members, the most well-known and the ones we follow during the campaign are Captain John Price, Lieutenant Simon ''Ghost'' Riley, Sergeant Kyle ''Gaz'' Garrick, Sergeant John ''Soap'' MacTavish, and Colonel Alejandro Vargas (allied member).

What if I can't play the game?

If you'd like to see the campaign to understand and get to know the characters better, I will attach a gameplay video with no commentary! It's 5 hours, but the campaign is so good you can basically watch it like a movie.

I will also attach a compilation of voice lines from the main characters from multi-player, which give us some extra peeks at the personality of the characters and how they act in stressful situations.

Simon ''Ghost'' Riley - Voice Lines

Johnny ''Soap'' MacTavish - Voice Lines

Kyle ''Gaz'' Garrick - Voice Lines

Captain John Price - Voice Lines

Colonel Alejandro Vargas - Voice Lines

And despite König not being part of the campaign, I will also attach his voice lines as he's a character I write about often.

König - Voice Lines

Where can I find the Ghost comic?

You can read the original comic that goes into detail about Simon Riley and the creation of Ghost right here!

If you'd like to read some character studies, I will also be attaching some character studies I've made based on research about comics, voice lines, and the campaigns. I will be creating more in the future with TF141 Characters!

Simon ''Ghost'' Riley - Character Study

König - Character Study

If you're new to my page, besides the character studies for Ghost, I have other posts talking more about his character and the way I write him!

Here and here.

If you'd like to read some of my fanfics, feel free to check out my Masterlist!

[sleepinghypnos]

Female Idol/s x Named Character

(You can insert yourself as the Protag…)

Tags: Smut

Genre: Threesome (Kinda?), Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Female Idol x Named Character (Reader), Cum swallowing, Facial.

Red Velvet Joy & Wendy x Han Jin-woo (Protagonist.)

3rd Person’s POV

Han Jin-woo is a mixed, his mother was pure Korean while his father is Italian-American, His parents decided to live in Korea. He was just 12 years old when his whole world came crashing down. His parents, who were his only family, died in a tragic car accident. Suddenly, he found himself alone and without anyone to turn to.

As an orphan, Han Jin-woo was living with their family’s butler in his house. The butler gave Han Jin-woo knowledge he has to know about his parent’s inheritance. Despite the difficult circumstances, he refused to let his past define him. He was determined to become successful and create a better life for himself.

At the age of 18, Jin-woo received a large inheritance from his parents' estate. Most people would have squandered the money on material possessions and luxuries, but Jin-woo had bigger plans. He used the money to start his own business.

With his sharp business acumen and natural leadership skills, Jin-woo's company quickly became one of the most successful in South Korea. By the age of 26, he was the CEO of a powerful company.

Due to his interest in the Entertainment Industry. He had a vision to merge two of the biggest entertainment companies in South Korea, JYP and SM, under one umbrella company. Many thought it was an impossible task, but Jin-woo was determined to make it happen. JYP and SM Entertainment are both facing a huge crisis due to staff negligence, improper management, and backlashes about the songs they produce for their idols. This is the key for Han Jin-woo to devour the entertainment giants.

Through months of intense negotiations and strategic planning, Jin-woo managed to bring JYP and SM together under one company called Deicide Entertainment. The newly formed company became an overnight success, dominating the entertainment industry with its wide range of talents and production capabilities. Jin-woo's name became synonymous with success and his company became a force to be reckoned with.

Not only did Han Jin-woo successfully merge the two companies, but he also revitalized the dying image of idols in JYP and SM, then turn Deicide Entertainment into a multi-faceted media conglomerate that now produces music, dramas, films, and manages some of the biggest names in the industry.

Apart from his business acumen, Han Jin-woo's towering height, chiseled features, and fit physique have also made him a heartthrob in the entertainment industry. His striking looks coupled with his success have made him a desirable figure, and it is no secret that he has had his fair share of romantic encounters. In a society where the personal lives of public figures are heavily scrutinized, Han Jin-woo's sexual activities have sparked controversy and gained him a reputation among his colleagues. However, he remains unapologetic and believes that his personal life has no bearing on his professional capabilities.

2nd Person’s POV (Named Character)

You step into the dimly lit dance practice room, the scent of sweat and determination filling your senses. As the CEO of Deicide Entertainment, you had often visited this place to check in on your artists and make sure everything was running smoothly. Today, you were specifically here to see Red Velvet and their upcoming comeback.

At 28 years old, you had already achieved great success in the entertainment industry. Your company was known for its innovative ideas and with the merging of JYP and SM Entertainment had taken the industry by storm. You were a force to be reckoned with, both in the boardroom and the bedroom.

As you enter the room, you spot the girls of Red Velvet practicing their choreography. They were your top girls, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and excitement at the sight of them. But your focus quickly shifted to two members in particular, Son Seung-wan, or as the world knows her as Wendy and Park Sooyoung also known as Joy.

Wendy was known for her powerful vocals and graceful dancing, but in that moment, all you could see was her glistening with sweat as she moved to the music. Joy on the other hand has seductive voice and charismatic aura. They stopped dancing and took a break. And as if sensing your gaze on them, they greeted you together with the other members.

You couldn't resist any longer, your desire for her taking over. You walk towards to the two people that caught your attention, ignoring the startled looks of the other members.

“Follow me, both of you.” You said and greeted the other members of Red Velvet, the two girls followed you to your office.

“Lock the door.” You calmly said and Joy immediately locked it, you wrap your hands on Wendy.

Wendy doesn't resist, her hands instinctively finding their way to your neck, pulling you down for a passionate kiss. The smell of her sweat and the sound of her breathless moans only fueling your desire. You press her up against the glass window wall in your office, your hands roaming over her body hungrily.

With a smirk, you lean down and whisper in Wendy's ear, “Why don't you suck my cock, Wendy?”

Without any hesitation, Wendy kneels down in front of you, unzipping your pants and pulling out your throbbing shaft. Her eyes widen at the sight of it, “the rumors about you really is true.” Wendy said and she bites her lip in excitement. She wraps her soft lips around your girthy 12 inch cock, sucking and licking it with expert skill.

You groan in pleasure as Wendy's hot mouth engulfs you, her tongue swirling around your head while Joy watches from behind her. When Wendy pulls back for air, Joy takes her place, eagerly taking your cock in her mouth and deep-throating it. They take turns pleasing you, choking and gagging on your massive cock as they moan in ecstasy.

As you reach your peak, Wendy and Joy playfully fight over who gets to swallow your load. In the end, they both get a taste, as you have obscene amount of load, their faces are half-covered and mouths are full, you can't help but chuckle at their competitive nature. As they clean you up.

“Joy, lie on the couch and spread your legs.” And before she knew it, she was lying on the couch with her legs spread, while you knelt in front of her. Joy felt her face flush with embarrassment, but also a sense of excitement.

You wasted no time, as you eagerly began to perform oral pleasure on Joy. Joy couldn't help but let out a loud moan as your skilled tongue worked its magic on her. She had never experienced anything like this before, and it was driving her wild.

As Joy moaned and writhed on the couch, Wendy could only watch in arousal. She wanted to join but she couldn't deny the intense desire that was building up inside her as she watch her group member enjoys herself.

After a few minutes, you pulled away from Joy, leaving her gasping for air, she reached her peak and now quivering. You set your eyes on Wendy, she aroused and horny, since you are generous, she also get the oral pleasure she deserves. Now both of the idols were wasted just by your tongue alone.

But before Joy could even catch her breath for a little longer, you positioned Joy in all fours, she wasn’t ready to take you inside of her. Being considerate, you slowly entered her, and Joy couldn't help but cry out in ecstasy. Wendy's eyes widened in shock as she watched how your cock entered Joy’s pussy.

Your thrusts became faster and more intense, and Joy couldn't contain her pleasure any longer. She was moaning loudly, screaming your name as she reached her peak. “Yes! F-fuck! Fill me, please fill me up! Breed me until I’m bloated.” You followed soon after, both of you collapsing onto the couch in a state of pure bliss. Filling Joy’s womb with your virile seeds.

Wendy is waiting for her turn patiently, you can’t let a woman wait and you lead her to the carpeted floor and she willingly lies down. You look at her, admiring how perfect she looks. You start to undress your top.

As soon as your bodies connect, you feel a shockwave of pleasure course through your entire body. You start to penetrate her slowly, taking your time to make her adjust to your size. Wendy's moans fill the room, and you can't get enough of her. You increase your pace, and she starts to become a wreck under your touch. She loses control, and all that is left is sheer ecstasy.

You are thrusting in and out, letting her feel your weight and muscular physique against her petite body.

The sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the air, along with Wendy's moans and gasps. You can feel her reaching her peak, and with one last powerful thrust, she squirts, making you both gasp in surprise.

“I didn't know you could squirt,” you say, while caressing her face.

“I didn't think I could do it either,” she replies, panting. “I'm filling you up just like what I did to Joy,” you say, referring to one of Red Velvet's other member lying on the couch just happily watching.

Wendy nods, surrendering to the pleasure you are giving her. You continue to pound into her, pushing her to the edge over and over again. As you feel your own release approaching, you thrust deeper and came inside of her filling her to the brim. You pull out and watch as your cum flows out of her.

Joy eagerly uses her mouth to catch it all, making you groan in satisfaction, she shared the cum she collected to Wendy by kissing one another.

“Relay my message to Irene after you met with your co-members later.” You said to the girls still kissing. But they nodded because they already knew what the massage was. It’s Irene’s turn…

A/N: I don't know what to write so here, sorry for ghosting those who wants the continuation of the Bodyguard Series.

[iateyourfav]

Faster (Reprise)

Watching Tech win that race made you feel some type of way, so you show him your appreciation.

Inspired by this post by @bsxcrxts

Based on Season 2 Ep 4!

! 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

Tech x Reader

Tags: nsfw, afab reader, no pronouns/gender neutral reader, aftercare

CW: face fucking, rough blowjobs, afab masturbation, handjobs (both receiving), hair pulling, slight praise kink, dom/sub dynamics, switching, orgasm control, shameless smut, bickering, Tech is LOUD

Words: 3.659

I was literally on aphrodisiacs while I wrote most of this I'm sorry

Masterlist

Read on ao3

You were quiet on the flight back to Ord Mantell. While Wrecker and Omega were sleeping in the back of the ship, tired from everything that happened on Safa Toma, you were sitting in the co-pilot seat next to Tech. You were deep in thought, trying to figure out why exactly you were feeling the way you did right now.

Something about watching Tech win that race made you feel giddy inside. It wasn’t just the concept of him winning the race itself. Everything flowed together so perfectly. The way he casually multi-tasked to study the schematics of that tunnel while engaging in a sport he literally learned about hours ago. The way he tricked those other two racers into crashing into each other. The way that it was clear that losing this race was not even an option he considered. That was probably the most attractive thing about the whole thing. The confidence in his own piloting skills.

You looked over at Tech, who was currently getting the ship ready to land. You were so deeply engaged in your own thoughts you didn’t even hear him when he announced you were almost at your destination. You felt the aftereffects of your revision of the previous events as well. Your face and ears were all hot and even goosebumps were making themselves apparent on your arms and legs. You couldn’t just move on from what you had witnessed on Safa Toma, you wanted to revel in the memory just a little bit longer. You wanted to show Tech just how much you enjoyed watching him race. 

You stayed in your seat when Omega and Wrecker left the ship, basically sprinting on their way to get some Mantell Mix. This presented you with the opportunity to stay on the ship with Tech, alone. So when you noticed him get up, intending to leave the ship as well and go after his siblings, you stopped him in his tracks by calling out his name. 

“What is it?” he asked, though you noticed most of this attention was focused on the datapad he was holding in his hands.

“Could you maybe explain to me how exactly you won that race one more time? In detail?" this caught his full intention “Why do you require an explanation? You were there to see it.” He sat back down, indicating that he was expecting this conversation to last longer. Your mind was racing, trying to decide if you wanted to be straightforward about how horny seeing him casually win that race made you or if you wanted to play innocent. You decided on the latter, for now. “I just think it would be beneficial to understand your thought process behind the whole thing.” You shrugged, trying to appear as casual as possible. He raised an eyebrow, though he didn’t question you any further.

“At first I stayed further back, seeing as I was rather unfamiliar with the route..” You leaned forward in your chair, eyes sparkling while a smile crept up on your face. You liked when he explained things to you. You could listen to him for hours, trying not to miss a single detail. So, as if the chair moved on its own, you inched closer to Tech. He noticed, though he didn’t acknowledge your action with more than a quick look at your chair as it moved closer to him. Initially, you didn’t think much about his reaction. But when you moved closer again, wanting to make sure you couldn’t possibly miss a word he was saying, he looked over again, but this time he stuttered as well, barely noticeable, but with the amount of attention you paid to him right now, you couldn’t miss it.

You managed to distract him, even unintentionally.

This revelation changed your approach to this situation. You were eager to keep listening to him explain his strategy, but at the same time you wanted to find out just how much you could distract him from his task at hand. So you moved even closer. This time his gaze lingered on the foot of the co-pilot seat for a bit before traveling up your legs, then quickly looking the other way. All while still explaining, of course.

You decided to throw caution into the wind and just keep diving head first into the situation presented before yourself, shoving thoughts of possible embarrassment, if this situation were to go wrong, to the side. You extended your right leg, slowly shuffling it towards his left. When the toes of your shoes touched, he paused his rambling about how he studied the schematics of that restricted tunnel mid-race. “What are you doing?” 

You tried to keep calm, trying to appear confident in your actions instead of as nervous as you actually felt. You could not think of a single excuse for trying to get this close to him. It seemed you had no other choice than to confess. “I just… Something about the way you won that race was captivating to me. I wanted you to explain how you went about doing that because it made me feel.. giddy inside.” The apparent blush on your face and you obviously staring at the floor to avoid eye contact destroyed any type of confidence or seduction you were trying to display. You swallowed hard before stating the next sentence. “I actually wanted to show you how much I enjoyed watching you during that race.” You dared a look at his face. Tech's eyes were locked on yours as soon as you looked back up at him, his mouth slightly agape. This was very clearly not what he expected you to say. There was an uncomfortable silence as he was thinking of a response. You don’t think you ever witnessed him having to think about something for so long. Then he put his data pad to the side, giving you his full attention.

“Do as you wish.” This was not an answer you were expecting. Your expression matched the one he had on his face earlier, eyes focused on his and lips slightly apart, dumbfounded. Tech, on the other hand, was now back to explaining those tunnel schematics as if nothing at all had happened. You took his statement as an invite to continue your advances. Though you required further communication to be able to proceed with your actions. So, not wanting to interrupt him, you raised your hand as if you were a student having questions about the ongoing lecture. He noticed this. “Yes?” he asked, eyebrows raised, not only interested in how you decided to get his attention, but also what it was you had to say. You asked your question while sinking onto your knees in front of his chair “Tell me to stop as soon as you want me to.” You looked up at him with a serious look on your face, wanting to make sure this was communicated as well as possible. The last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable. 

Tech replied instantaneously. “Thank you for your concern, though I do not intend to stop you from anything you may have planned.” A shiver ran down your spine. He was eager for this as well. If it was not clear from this statement, it was from the way his legs shifted apart slightly, making room for you. And then he just kept on rambling, which you were glad to listen to.

Your right hand started at his calf, traveling up to his knee while your left hand landed just above his other knee simultaneously. You could feel him tense up. You were still listening to everything he said while your hands slowly made their way up his thighs. Your gaze was studying him from the top down. You broke eye contact to look at him top to bottom. Your eyes first found leverage on his chest, stomach, then his crotch. You could swear you heard a particularly loud gulp when your gaze landed where it did last. Your hands made their way towards his toolbelt, having to loosen it, at least the main buckle, to reach where you wanted to end up. You unbuckled the belt quickly before removing his codpiece. He did not once stop laying out his strategy to you, though his voice sounded coarser now.

You shuffled further between Tech's legs, your elbows resting on his knees as you undid his trousers. Then you paused. He had stopped his speech as soon as your hand reached his zipper. You looked up at him, eyes huge due to the low angle at which you were positioned. You wouldn't have noticed how much your actions were affecting him from just his voice, as it was barely disturbed before you tried to get into his pants, though a single look in his face revealed how hard he was blushing at your actions. You gave him a small smile before stating: “Keep talking.” It seemed you had now regained the upper hand in this situation. You enjoyed seeing how he reacted to you, the effect you had on him, especially considering how much it usually takes to distract him from his ramblings. 

He picked his sentence back up where he paused it earlier. „I decided weapons were slowing me down too much, so I left them behind.“ You could tell he tried to talk as casually as possible, but with the way he gripped at his chair and his eyes intensely focused on your hands, it was easy to tell just how eager he was. Not to mention how noticeably hard he was by now. Your hand brushed over his crotch, making him shiver, before reaching into his pants to pull his dick out.

He groaned at this action. He was louder than you expected, and you hadn‘t even properly started yet. Even though this sound he emitted sent a shock straight to your core, you didn‘t like how it disturbed his rambling.

“I didn‘t say you could stop explaining.“ Another groan. You knew how much he enjoyed babbling about whatever was on his mind, so it shouldn‘t have surprised you that it turned him on when someone actually wanted to hear what he had to say. 

When he started talking again you began ghosting your hand over his now fully hard cock. He shivered once more but he just kept on rambling. When you looked up at him again you noticed his eyes were now shut, most likely to help him concentrate on laying out his strategy further. A small smile formed on your face, pleased with the power you had over him right now. You started pumping him, almost as a reward, because he did so good relaying the race to you.

A whimper escaped his throat. You noticed his voice had become breathier and quieter. His eyes were still closed and his head pressed against the headrest of the pilot‘s chair, trying his hardest to keep his composure - and failing miserably. Some encouragement might help, you thought. You paused the up and down motion of your hand on his dick to speak.

“Look at me.“ His glassy eyes met yours. Your hand twisted slightly, earning you another whimper from Tech. „ You‘re doing so well explaining, and as soon as you‘re finished telling me all about that race, I‘ll reward you properly.“ He bucked his hips into your hand, accompanied by a low moan. He swallowed hard before snapping back at you. „I do not require your praise. I am fully in control of myself.“ You snorted, disregarding his statement.  „With the way your body is reacting to me, I beg to differ.“ 

This time, instead of talking back to you, he continued his explanation. You noticed he was talking notably faster now, but you let him get away with it and started pumping and twisting your hand again. 

„I-I took the l-left t-tunnel, seeing as I w-was now a-able to go f-fast enough to be a-able to make it a-across the m-missing part of the t-track.“ It took everything in Tech to form a coherent sentence in this state. „Keep going.“ you spurred him on further, studying the way his face contorted in pleasure and concentration.

You shuffled closer, leaning towards his cock. Wanting to challenge his focus even more, you puckered your lips, blowing some air on the tip. A shiver ran down his entire body and his breathing hitched. Again, he paused his debriefing. „I thought you would only intend to let me into your mouth after I finish the revision of the race.“ He was next to breathless. „Don’t be so hasty. This is only a preview to keep you motivated.“ You licked a small circle around the head of his dick to emphasize your statement. A deep, uncensored, guttural moan left his mouth. „Don‘t cum too soon, or I‘ll leave you here with nothing.“, you whispered up at him. „We will see about that.“, he responded, more bratty than did him good right now. You retracted your head, sitting straight on your heels now again, and squeezed him a little; a kind of warning to keep him in line.

You could not deny that his small attempt at gaining back dominance heated up your entire body. So, while Tech tried his hardest to finish the last portion of his explanation, you shifted your hips to rub your thighs together, hoping your attempt at trying to get some friction would go unnoticed. Your hands were still busy, with your right back to pumping him with increasing speed and your left digging into his still clothed thigh.

“…I-I fell back, l-letting the r-racers that b-boxed me in c-crash into e-eachother, allowing m-me to a-accelerate p-past them and w-win the race.“ You could feel his muscles relax after finishing his last sentence.  He opened his eyes to look down at you again. He looked desperate, almost teary-eyed. 

„You explained so well, and now I wanna reward you for it.“, you purred up at him. You lifted your hips, resting your weight on your knees. Your arms found their way to the back of your head to gather your hair so it wouldn‘t get in your way. You would have to hold it back with one hand, seeing as you were not in possession of a hair tie at the moment.

You were about to lean forward to take him into your mouth when something stopped you. Tech's much bigger hand landed on top of yours at the back of your head where you held your ponytail in place. You glanced up at him, slightly dumbfounded. „Let go. I will hold it back for you.“, he elaborated. Your attempt at nodding as a way to show acknowledgement of what he said resulted in him pulling at your hair on accident. You twitched. Tech's eyes widened, displaying concern. „I apologize. It will not happen again.“ You kind of enjoyed the sensation, though. „No. Keep doing that. Feels good.“ You removed your hand that was still in your hair from underneath his. 

Both of your elbows found leverage on his thighs once again. Your right hand gripped the base of his cock while your lips lowered onto him to kiss his tip. This triggered another whimper on his part. You felt his grip on your hair become tighter. Your eyes locked with his. He was searching for affirmation in your gaze. You smiled up at him, biting your lip as a nonverbal sign of your enjoyment. You lowered your mouth back onto him, now taking him until he hit the back of your throat. He gave you a long, deep moan this time. He pushed you down even further onto him, making you gag. Tech moaned again, seemingly enjoying the sight and feeling of you almost choking on him. He bucked his hips into your mouth once before asking: „May I take the lead now?“ You nodded as eagerly as possible with a dick this deep down your throat, giving up the last bit of control you had over him.

His grip on your hair tightened the slightest bit more before he took full control, shoving your head up and down on his dick, his hips bucking up every time his tip met the back of your throat. You gripped his upper thighs, holding on for dear life. Your core ached at the way he used you to his advantage, while he kept on groaning and moaning with every movement, you looked up at him. While all you saw on his face was passion and pleasure, he looked down at you, tears streaming down your face as a response to how he used your mouth like this was the only thing it was intended for.

You stuck your tongue out, which reached his balls every time he pushed your face towards his pelvis. His head fell back, overwhelmed with pleasure. You could barely handle the sight of him.

Your arousal had built up steadily since this whole situation started, and now you had reached the point where you couldn‘t go untouched any longer. Not wanting to interrupt Techs enjoyment with your own greedy need for bodily pleasure you slowly removed one of your hands from Techs thigh. It slowly traveled down your body until you reached your cloth-covered clit. You tried rubbing yourself through the fabric of your underwear. Thankfully, you chose to wear a skirt that day, so you at least had only one barrier between your fingers and your swollen clit tormenting you. 

You groaned in a mix of pleasure and frustration, sending vibrations down the dick still steadily ramming down your throat. This sent Tech over the edge. He gripped your hair tighter, holding your head in place as he came down your throat. You helped him through his orgasm by bobbing your head up and down ever so slightly. He pulled you off him by your hair. He looked out of breath, and when you stuck out your tongue at him, showing him you swallowed everything he had given to you, he groaned one last time before leaning down and kissing your forehead, hands still tangled in your hair.

That‘s when he saw where your second hand had gone. You had completely forgotten about your own pleasure when Tech came, the hand pressed to your core just a remnant of what you had attempted without him noticing. Now he saw exactly what you needed, though.

“I would gladly provide assistance, if you let me.“ except for heavy breathing on his side, there was no indication this man had just fucked your throat until both of you were seeing stars. You looked up at him, lips agape. You didn‘t even attempt to talk, already aware your throat was sufficiently sore at the moment, so you just eagerly nodded your head. 

He offered you a hand, as if he hadn‘t just used your throat as a sex toy, and pulled you up into his lap, your back facing his chest. His hands gripped your ankles and pulled them in towards your ass and spread your thighs by parting your knees. Your hands gripped onto his forearms for balance and security. He put his chin on your shoulder, your temple touching his goggles. He wanted to see exactly what he was working with. 

He brushed his hand over the wet spot on your underwear, exactly as you did with him earlier. He didn‘t even bother to take them off, just pushing them to the side, leaving your core flush, swollen and exposed. You shivered at the cold air of the ship hitting you at your most sensitive area. He brushed his hand over your now naked folds. „I did not expect that using you in the way I did would make you this wet.“

You moaned at his words, feeling slightly embarrassed at his wording.

Tech's fingers found your clit and began slowly tracing circles around it. This time you bucked your hips, needing more. „Don‘t be so hasty.“, he mocked your statement from earlier. His teasing didn‘t last long though, as he soon added a second finger to enhance the feeling. It didn‘t take long for you to feel your orgasm build up. You turned your face towards him, your nose pressing against his cheek as his head was still resting on your shoulder. Your lips parted slightly, whispering small, breathy moans directly into his ear. You could hear him swear before he quickened his movements, pressing down harder. Your moans increased in frequency and volume with every circle he traced until you reached your high. Back arching, thighs trembling, groaning, ignoring the ache in your throat. Your head fell back onto his shoulder. He pressed his palm flat against your clit, his hand quivering slightly, providing gentle stimulation while he helped you ride out your orgasm as his head turned to yours kissing your cheek.

You stayed like this for several minutes before you caught your breath again. He moved your underwear back into place. When he could tell you recovered from your orgasm enough to not pass out and fall over as soon as he let you go, Tech lifted you off his lap, setting you back onto the floor. You looked up at him, cheeks still stained with tears, still breathing heavily.

„You did well, and it is obvious you enjoyed this as much as I did, but I can tell your throat is sore, which needs to be taken care off quickly before it gets any worse. I will make you some tea.“ He tucked himself back into his pants and fastened his toolbelt again before getting up, walking towards a storage cabinet to get some teabags. You looked after him, still sitting on the floor next to the codpiece he had left behind, wondering how this was the same man who used your mouth as a fleshlight moments ago.

[kombuuuu]

Saviour of Mine.

Miles Morales x Fem!Reader

“You want stitches, big boy.”

“You gonna' stay on top of me?”

“No, but I'll make it hurt real nice.”

warnings : a little jealousy, not enjoying the spiderciety, a tad angst, more medical stuff i don’t know shit abt, misunderstandings, creepy obsession by a teacher, it gets better at the end promise,

requested by @viozxe :3 my boy my love i love him (gatekept this image for like two weeks but i finally have somewhere to use it)

For a man so true to his word, Miles had a thing for flaking on you.

You hadn’t seen him in around six hours. The event he had fled from leaving you dressed in your nicest clothes, looking like a sweet mess surrounded by family members not your own. After the first forty or so minutes, you had politely excused yourself from his Mama Rio and Officer Jefferson — Who both insisted you refer to them by their first names — , and booked it out of there.

You'd assumed he'd ran off with his little spider-clique. Something you'd rather not join, considering your particular distain for the man in charge. Who so happened to have quite the distaste for you, also. Avoiding the mirage of spider people had been relatively easy thus far, with the multi-versal gaps and all. But when Gwen Stacy had started to come see Miles more often — You would have to either sit through the excruciating task of listening to them talk. Which involved a lot more intimate moments than you were comfortable with being witness too. Or leave whilst she was there, and presumably not talk to Miles for a few hours — or.. days. Depending on wether he ditched you for her or not.

Having your best friend, of which you had fallen infatuated too, try and get with another girl right on front of you, any time they were together? Not the most ideal of situations. So you went home.

—

You cradled the led pencil on your dominant hand, other tapping to the beat of the song playing through your headphones. Sweet R&B to soothe your woes, whilst you focused on the homework in front of you.

You grabbed the rubber, sighing in exasperation and starting to scrub at your page, getting a little too frustrated and tearing the flimsy paper in the process.

You stared at the tear for a moment before borderline yelling, a tearless sob escaping you before you dropped your head against your desk. Slumping down into a flopped position.

You had to complete this by Monday, you knew that. Mr. Warren was the nicest teacher at your school. He’d helped you when you parents couldn’t. Taken you in — you’d even told him about Miles. He didn’t seem to like him very much, said it was a shame they shared a first name. You thought it was a crazy coincidence.

You slowly slid off your chair, pushing it back on its wheels as you went until eventually you were rested lying on the ground, staring at the window of your room.

Golden light shone through your curtains in a bright calling, basically signalling your escape as it sung to you.

You stared for another solid minute before groaning, Mr. Warren could wait.

Avidly ignoring the ache in your chest at the thought of finding Miles with the current focus of his interest.

You crawled to your closet and reached for the handle, still on the floor — before remembering your Van Der Waals and just using the tip of your fingers to lazily pull it open.

You snorted at yourself, before shuffling through the box at the bottom of your closet and pulling out the sleek spider suit.

The next minute was spent trying to energetically shuffle on your suit, and get your adrenaline running. Which proved working when you were rather excited — or antsy — to swing your way around the city.

You closed your window behind you, crawling up your building and letting the cold air force you more awake.

You backed up, jumping a little hop as you did. Bouncing on your feet before you ran, leaping off your building in a refreshing spin.

An excited yelp left your mouth before you shot a web to the next building over, using the top of a bus on the bust Brooklyn streets to boost your momentum, gradually gaining speed as you swung through the city in a series of twists and flips. Graceful swinging amidst a series of fumbling and laughing to yourself, still somewhat new to the spider-person talents.

You pulled out your phone, the small thigh pocket you had specially designed for your suit making it easier to carry your essentials around when you were in no need for over coats.

You stuttered in your swings, a small squeak escaping you when you almost hit a bird, yelling out a “Sorry!” to the poor thing.

The thwip of your web attaching to a near tall building sent another rush through you, curving yourself between two structures and landing on top of a bell tower. The same one you and Miles had been visiting together for the past year. You tripped a little over your own feet before righting yourself, smiling under the mask.

You didn’t need those other spider people, didn’t need a “Community to fall back on.”—, as that Miguel had put it.

You had yourself, Miles, and a teacher that supported you. And that’s all you needed.

—

You dialled Miles’ number. The irony of your inner statement making you cringe a little. You inner voice convincing you that literally no one else can hear you be embarrassed. You were speaking in your head. Your other—, more combative, inner voice— saying otherwise.

You willed them both quiet as your phone rung.

Miles’ cute face being showing on the profile photo, you stared at it as you waited, foot tapping the cement bell tower.

His face was in your hands, and smiling that charming smile he always did. His cheeks were squished in your hold as you kissed his cheek, holding the camera.

It was a romantic photo, if not for the fact you were best friends. You found yourself getting jealous of your past self. Chastising her for not relishing in that moment further.

Your phone beeped twice, signalling the call ringing out. You stared at it curiously, Eyes of your mask tilting into confused slants.

“C’mon man, pick up.” You whispered to yourself, glaring at the device in your hands and trying again.

When he didn’t pick up then, either — you had started to get impatient. And ended up rolling your eyes at him.

Muttering curses along with phrases of envy under your breath.

You had nothing against Gwen, in all honestly, she was a perfect fit for him — charming and troubled just like he was. Able to bond over their shared issues and shared interest.

Like each other.

You scoffed and shoved your phone back into your pocket, before angrily shooting a web, and slinging away.

Going to a bodega you knew always cheered you up to get rid of the mood you had out yourself in.

—

You walked out of the bodega with your bag in hand, your other waving joyfully to the owner, Hoa, the sweet lady you had met three weeks after moving here. Who made the best Bánh Mi you could find. You pet her cat on the way out, the sweet Turkish Angora purring as she nosed along your hand.

Hoa yelled out for you to “Come back whenever, Spider. On the house, next time.”

“Never on the house, Hoa.”

Her annoyed grumbles fades the farther away you walked. Skipping a bit as you pulled out the food, crisp bread with all the fillings you loved making the first bite look heavenly. You had the urge right then to pull up your mask in front of every flashing camera just to taste that home made bread.

You sighed your compliments instead.

“She never misses.”

“Who never misses?”

You startled at the civilian that had approached you, his tall stature and spiky nature making him stand out so much you wonder how you hadn’t noticed him.

Maybe your spider senses were distracted with your food.

“Oh— uh..,” You sucked your teeth for a second, eyes darting curiously around, wondering why he wasn’t just like the other civilian. Taking photos and videos of you as you walked past — ever fascinated by the new “Hero” around. You would barely call yourself that, but it’s what the people deemed you.

“My.. Friend.”

The man bent down by the waist, hands behind his back as he started walking with you.

“Name’s Hobie. Guessin’ your ‘friend’ made tha’ sweet lookin’ sandwich, mm?”

“Mm.. She uh— Oh, I’m —!..” You paused, tripping over your feet and scuffing your shoes. You cringed under the mask, stuffing the food back into your bag.

“..Spiderwoman.. She makes good food. Yup.”

Hobie snorted at how quick you were about to reveal your identity to who you assumed to be some confident civilian.

You awkwardly walked with him, every now and again glancing longingly at your sub as he leisured in his pace. Taking his sweet time walking who knows where whilst you begrudgingly accompanied the stranger — or not stranger. Acquaintance.

“Ya’ real confident for a Spidey.” Hobies’ sarcastic voice drawled, sniffing and scrunching his eyebrows before his face relaxed into a teasing smile again.

You side glanced him, otherwise focused on trying to leave the conversation. “Well considering there’s only three — two, of us.” You giggled nervously, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Rest in peace, Spidey-1.” You — somewhat — joked.

Hobie let out a snort and choked on his breath, laughing at your awkward nature.

No wonder Miguel hadn’t let anyone even mention your lack of inclusion to the Spider-force.

Not after the first day of trying to convince you, anyhow.

It would have been utterly humiliating to be bested by someone who couldn’t hold a conversation for the life of her.

Hobie had a lot of respect for you, right off the bat. He knew the moment that Miguel (and Jess) had come back from Miles’ universe — pissed off and *alone — that you hadn’t been persuaded. And considering Jess and Miguel had a rather unique skill with their convincing, feeding off vulnerabilities in younger Spider-people to be the lack of parental figure in their lives, or elder — to have relatability in their pains. It wasn’t technically ill intended, but Hobie thinks it’s more than a little manipulative.

So to have you — someone he’s seen is vulnerable, hurting, easy; not fall victim to the duos tactics, and actively *berate them for it.

He was well awed.

And his brotherly instincts kicked in terribly fast. He thinks he sees a lot of himself in you. Awkward and growing into yourself, struggling against the high standards you were held to as a spider. And fighting from that box people tried to put you in.

So yeah, well awed would be an understatement. Proud would be a criminal understatement.

So when he had been looking for Gwen, trying to show her some stupid thing Pavitr had sent him just to show her — and realised she was gone. He checked his watch, lo and behold, she was in your universe.

Meaning she was with Miles, who rather actively tried to steer you away from his spider drama. Right now, though? He was distracted.

And what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

He walked with you for a while longer, letting you both get comfortable in the silence of a stranger.

“This ain’t weird f’ you, mate?”

You had both ended up at some alleyway, filled with stalls of food and bustling people pausing in their tracks to stare at the oddly placed pair of Hero and “Random Punk?”

“Not quite. I’ve had weirder interaction with weirder guys.”

He nodded in acknowledgment.

“Yeah, Guess ‘m not as weird as some villains.” The brit droned, dropping down to your height and eyeing the stalls as you passed, pocketing some things from stores he knew as bigger organisations.

“I was talking about regular people, but yeah those too.”

He laughed, grinning at your dry humour and nodded again, leaning into your view and smirking at your adjusting lenses.

You reached the stall you were looking for, the girl greeting you with a smiling “Hi, Spidergirl!”

Your eyes shrunk, “Spiderwoman, Spiderlady, Spider — and you chose the most demeaning.”

“Well, you are built rather girl like, young and spry and — oh, is that Hoa’s Bahn Mi?”

You nodded enthusiastically at Avanti, dropping your hand into the bag and pulling out a cookie you’d saved for her.

Hobie watched the interaction from stood behind you. Slipping in a “You had a spare cookie this entire time?”

You snorted and Avanti handed you a peach ice tea and a couple of her home-made desserts in a Spider-man themed lunch box. A note reading “Got this just for you — brin bring it back!!” placed on top, you glanced up, putting the lunch box in your bag as you did so and thanked her before you and Hobie were off again. “Seriously, the whole walk. No cookie.”

You laughed at his pouting tone, “I’ll get you one, next time, big man.”

He draped his arm over your shoulder, leaning some weight on you and started talking about random things he could think about during the trip back to your apartment.

You’d grown to enjoy his company, the older man — and his lack of filter — being oddly entertaining. You quipped, and he quipped back. Not enough for you to really trust him seeing your apartment, but enough that you set the boundary on your block.

“Hey Hobes, this has been a really good talk—,”

“Gotta ge’ back to ya’ Spiderin’, aye?”

You smiled up at him, lenses sliding into a pleased expression. “Yeah, real difficult stuff y’know? Saving the city and all that.”

He nodded along with you, right as his funky watch (that did not at all match his outfit, but looked to be bedazzled with a series of metal spikes) beeped. He brought his arm up and checked the small screen, face morphing into one of annoyance. “Aye’. Right timin’ mate, cause I just got a call from HQ.”

“Ahh.. Big cooperation?”

“Not in a million years, brutha’. More like a socie’y.”

He looked up at you and grinned. “Miguel really don’t like when I flake out on ‘im.”

You paused a second while Hobie fiddled with his watch, reaching into his back pocket while checking for anyone around. When he found no one, he slipped out his spiked mask and slid it on.

You stared, dumbfounded.

He clapped your shoulder again, scoffing amused at your wide-eyed expression.

“Was this —“

“A ploy f’ you ta’ join the Spider socie’y? Not a’ all, mate.” He sniffed, itching his head through his mask and squeezing your shoulder.

“I right respect ya’ f’ not joinin’. Wish I woulda’ had ya’ will at my age.”

“Oh… Thanks…”

He nodded at you, Lenses squinting.

“Yeah but, I gotta dip, Gwen’s not distractin’ Miguel with sneakin’ off no more. He pro’bly realised I was gone too.”

“Yuh huh…”

“Bye, [Name].”

You blanched one last time before he shot a web onto your neighbouring apartment building, opened a portal mid-air, and flung himself through.

“What the fuck..” You whispered to yourself, perplexed at the interaction that had just occurred.

“What the hell.”

—

It was two hours later, when you were full of Bahn Mi, Pastries and Ice Tea, rethinking everything he’d said; when his last words caught up to you.

Gwen’s out of this universe. Not in the figurative sense — Although she is everything everyone wants to be, but you’re gonna ignore that — So where the hell was Miles?

It was late now, Moon shining a casted light through your living room drapes just as the Sun had onto your bed hours prior.

You gradually dragged yourself from your couch, reaching over your coffee table with great effort to reach your charging phone.

You huffed, giving up and snatching your web slinger from the floor by your feet and shot a web to grab your phone, tugging it off the charger. The thicker part yanked out the wall instead, landing hard on your torso with a dull thump. You scrunched your face up and grumbled, cursing at the thing while you pull your phone off the now useless charger and throw it on the floor.

“Fuckin’ asshole…”

You flipped your phone, eyes widening when your lock screen lit up with a series of notifications. All getting progressively worse. Your spider-senses growing in alert.

miles (o O) 7:42 PM

haiiii

gwen left

u should’ve hung w us

haha

get it \(^ W ^ )\

hung

cause spider

i’m comigg to home now

yoii r home

soffy swinginf

waiiiiiiiiiixixiiixkm jjj fd

bab guy ine secon

The messages abruptly stopped, being replaced entirely by a series of calls. Some left voice messages, some not.

You clicked on a recorded voice message.

(miles (o O) Left a Message at 7:46 PM.)

“Hey, [Name]!” Miles’ cheery voice rang out through the speakers, bringing a lovesick smile to your face despite the off feeling you had in your chest.

“Just gonna — Oof, hey man! Not cool. — Gonna take care of this guy before—,” A pause and a grunt. “,—Before I come home to you, yeah? Pick up soon I wanna know what you’re doin’.” A begrudged shout sounded far from the speaker. “Are you on call right now?”

“It’s important!”

“We’re fighting!”

“I have a life loser—“ Three harsh beeps rung out, signalling the end of the voicemail.

You clicked on a few more, just quick tidbits of him complaining you not picking up, and fighting an unknown villain. Also complaining how he missed you and “This guys is not goin’ down!” He shouted louder; “C’mon man! I have somewhere to be!” “Suck my dick Spiderman!” “Woah—! Well don’t get angry now, asshole!”

“Hypocrite!”

“Am not!”

“Are too—“ Three beeps.

You clicked again.

“[Name], Please pick up! This guy can— Fuck! — You dickhead!” A beat played and a cough was heard. Your frown deepened.

“I’m at the—“ Cut off.

You checked for another voicemail, one continue the one left off. A worried scrunch in your nose. There wasn’t one.

Right as you were going to call him back, his profile photo popped up again, you pressed answer with a lip between your teeth.

“Miles?” laboured breathing came through the speakers, wet gasps and sniffled coughs every now and again. He was silent for a full minute before answering you.

“Hey, [Name]..” His voice was gravelling and deep, sandpaper against softened lips.

He sounded tired, and your heart rate picked up in fear, almost like he could hear it. “Fuck..,” He whispered into the phone, groaning. Holding the phone loosely on his end, as apposed to the anxious grip you had on on yours.

“I’m.. Stuck in some construction site.” He gasped. “Miles what the hell—!”

“Mi Vida, please. The guys not—“ A loud crash made the speaker in your phone crackle. A whispered “Shit.”, before he hung up.

You wanted to call back, but from his whispering, and panicked tone, you could only guess he was trying to hide.

Whoever this villain was, they weren’t giving up.

—

You followed his tracker, the location he was pinged at getting closer by the second. You breathed hard against the force of wind, dropping down into a run on where the location was set to be.

“Fuck, fuck— Miles where are you?..”

Your footsteps were light, crouching under concrete slabs and tip toeing around loose gravel. Red light was cast along unfinished floors and crumbling walls. Shadows reaching towards you from the corners of your eyes. Your spider senses were on high alert, at a constant buzz. They suddenly upt in pitch and you flinched around, almost screaming at the hand covering your mouth. Pressed harsh against your face, and another around the back of your head so you couldn’t escape. Your hands gripped the wrists of the stranger before you heard an incessant shushing.

“Conejita, quiet.”

You relaxed instantly, the eyes of your mask downturned in fearful stress.

His hands were shaking against your head, figure hunched and body scratched up. The tears in his suit spanning across his right shoulder and chest. He slowly removed his hands, bringing a lone finger to where his lips would be in his mask in a ‘hush hush’ manner.

Coming in closer to you, leaning down to where your ear would be and whispering “He’s still here.”

You grabbed his forearms, leading him deeper into the site, away from the reddened lights and into the creeping shadows.

He breathed heavy behind you, throat wet with his own blood, he grunted and tried to help you in walking with him, good arm thrown over your shoulder as you dragged him. “C’mon, just a little farther.”

“What’re you…” He cut himself off, heaving. You set him down in the quiet corner, tucked behind two large concrete sheets and some large bent up pipes.

“Just—, sit here Miles, okay?” You brought his head up to yours, still talking in a quietened voice. Hands on his face and crouched in front of his slumping form.

“I’ll be right back, don’t move.”

You stood from crouching, hands slipping off his face while he dragged forward to stay in your grasp — mumbling something like a plea for you to stay.

You turned from him, dashing away in silent movements, slinging yourself up onto high ground and turning back to make sure he wasn’t visible unless you truly looked — he wasn’t.

You lept off, disappearing from his sight with a yank against your webs.

He mumbled, shifting closer in your direction as the exhaustion hit him. Huffing, he leant back. Letting his head hit the wall and focus on keeping his eyes open.

"Quédate despierto.. No te muevas..."

“Stay awake.. Don’t move…”

He heaved again, the heaviness in his chest deepening.

“Stay…” He closed his eyes — for just a second, just for the relief — Dragging his hand up to rip the mask off of him, and forcing himself to open them again, to watch the Moon.

“Awake.”

—

You creep around corners, listening in and honing your senses to a point. For anything, a trip, a movement. A breath.

You whipped your head to the left, following the sound of light breathing.

“Come out little bunny.”

You tensed, he’d heard you.

“Ah, don’t worry, honey—,” You heard him creep forward, closer to you. He didn’t know where you were, obvious by the hesitance in his steps, but he had the right direction. You can move now, he would hear. And with how he’d heard Miles’ mere whisper before, you suggest maybe he had an ability similar to your own. “,Not him I want, anyways.”

That made your shoulders loosen a little, but you never rested. Who knows whether he was lying or not.

You shot a web, hitting the pipe of your aim and jumping from one to another, using your webs to steady yourself. You heard him huff a laugh.

“I heard that.”

Your eyes slanted, crouching into a spidered position. You crawled, using the stick of your fingers to steady across the pipe, sticking to it and trying to find the mystery man in the sea of red the warning lights casted.

Your spidey-senses went haywire and you jumped from the pipe in less than a second. Right as you did, a bang went off and you stumbled forward, landing in rubble and groaning. Rolling before you steadied yourself and jumped up. No rest until your opponent is resting in Death.

You finally saw him. What looked to be some guy in a green fuzzy suit.

“My girl..”

“Wha— *Are you a furry?”

He groaned, and charged for you, right hand outstretched and left in a clenched fist. He swung for your head, twisting his body as he did. You shot a web on his abdomen, pulling him towards you and jumping to slip under his arm, using his prior speed to throw him into a block of concrete, just missing a pole from stabbing him through the chest. He glanced at for a moment and grabbed his head — which had taken quite the hit.

“Seriously what type of Grinch cosplay is this?”

He growled again, like a man with rabies.

“C’mon dollface, don’t fight me here.”

“You hit first, asshole — Also what the fuck, i’m not your ‘doll’.” He shot for you again, throwing a bomb behind you to throw your body forward, you tried to grapple for stability, webbing to anything in reach. But he gripped your waist and held you against him.

“[Name]…”

You froze, body wanting to gag and shed your own skin at the same time.

You swung for his jaw, knocking him clean off you with a disgusted hand.

“Who the fuck are you!?”

He held his jaw and you stumbled farther from him. Hands held beside you, ready to attack if needed.

He grinned at you, blood seeping onto the green fur of his face, you felt sick.

“Oh, come on, babyface.” His jenky voice was digging into your skin, peeling it up and stabbing into your muscle. Twitching into your flesh and making your body hurt, making you hurt.

You ripped your mask up and hurled, spitting nothing but bile onto the ground below you, the burn of stomach acid sitting heavy in your throat and you felt like crying. Your breath heavy and gasps painful.

“What the fuck.”

—

You smiled at your professor. Waving back at him from the other side of the lecture hall. Miles come up behind you and hooked his arm around your shoulder, swaying against you as he chatted with you about anything that had happened in the time he hadn’t seen you. You snorted, chatting back — Forgetting completely about the other Miles.

You dropped your shoulder and your Miles stumbled, grumbling up at you before you gripped his forearm and dragged him to sit with you at the back of the hall. His mood changing in an instant as he followed along like a lost puppy, gawking at you with a dopey smile plastered across his face. His canines exposed, charming and boyish. How he always is. You sat him down, and sat next to you, and he dragged your chair a little closer, grabbing you leg and placing it over his.

He started laughing again at the eye roll you gave him, and you cracked — smiling and giggling with him.

What you hadn’t seen, was the glare settled on the two of you. The way Warrens previous smile had dropped into a snarling frown, hands gripping the pencil he had been holding in a death grip. He jumped at the sound of a crack, the pencil had snapped in his hands and he got even more pissed, about to scream at the *other Miles to get away from you. To get his hand off you.

That kid didn’t deserve you like he did.

You loved him like he loved you, he knew it.

You had too.

He watched you laugh and his heart fluttered, angry at who you were laughing for but still — you were so pretty.

You wouldn’t be laughing like that if he wasn’t here. You loved him.

—

“Mr. Warren?”

“How many times have I told you to call me Miles?” He slipped out of his own head, breaking from the stare he had on you.

You laughed sweetly, eyes shining. “How many times have I told you I already *have a Miles?”

He watched your smirk as you quipped back at him, a jealousy brimming in his chest. He chuckled, a heartless sound to no one but himself.

“Ahh, How many times am I going to forget?” He tapped his pencil on his desk and tried to focus on you instead. He watched you go back to your work, so intelligent, mature.

You shaded in the answer on the sleek sheet. You were right, of course.

A hair fell from behind your ears and he wanted to tuck it back, wanted to give you straight A’s for nothing despite knowing you would get them anyways.

You threaded you hand through your hair and if he wasn’t focused on how beautiful you were — maybe he’d be disappointed it wasn’t his own.

He watched you, forgetting the papers he was grading — he was focused on something else, now.

—

He was standing when you turned back. Hunching over his injuries and staggering towards you.

“Mr. Warren?”

“Yes, my dear.”

You gagged again, and he looked sad at the act.

“Please, baby—“ He stretched out his right hand, pleading with you.

“,—I know you love me too. I know that fucking Spider is taking you from me.”

He stepped closer.

“I know it.”

You stumbled back farther, wiping the spit from you lips and pulling your mask down, you went to shoot a web, to get away. But he was on you before you could, the hand not outstretched revealing a cloth covering his palm. Sodden and dripping a clear liquid.

He gripped your suit and dragged you forward, shoving the cloth closer to your face.

“Stop fucking resisting.”

“Get off!”

You gripped his forearm and bent it back, far enough you heard a snap. He yelped out. The sweet smelling cloth dropped from his hand and his other lost grip on your shirt. Taking the opportunity you dropped down, crouching on one leg and using the other to swipe the things legs from under him.

You watched him fall and grabbed the cloth. Hearing his pained groans as he tried to scramble up again.

You kicked a leg over him, straddling his chest and bringing your free hand back — swinging down on him with anguished cries.

He tried to raise his hands, you pinned them down in his own chloroform ridden cloth. He called your name, endearments that made you skin crawl. Tried kicking you off as his body grew weaker. Pleading with you, using his remaining strength to yank at his own arms.

He wrestled against your hits, face bloodied and nose broken. You hit again, watching his disgusting face whip to the side, blood leaking from his mouth as a tooth went flying.

Tears breached the edge of your eyes, frustration of every kind tearing your skin anew, your knuckles pouring the hurt you felt. Blood mixing in a sickening spill of feelings, an obsessive love — something cruel and harsh. And the injuries you’d sustained from it, equally as such cruel.

You’d spent *months trying for a man in love with someone else. And this man you had confided in, who had been a mentor in your trivialities — had taken advantage of that, of you.

He disgusted you.

You kept swinging.

—

Miles jerked awake, gripping the hands that were on his shoulders in an instant, the figure flinching back at his strength.

“Miles! Just me—,” He opened his eyes further, pain ringing through his body as he loosened in your hold.

“Just you.”

He took your appearance in, the blood coating your suit, that hadn’t seemed to be your own. The thick liquid shining on your hands and forearms, crudely splashed onto your mask — like something out of a horror film.

He reached up slowly, pulling off you mask with great effort. His own sitting next to him. You were on your knees before him, bathing in red so deep it could have been mistaken for black against the reddened light. He groaned when you touched his chest, coughing a little at the pain.

“Sorry! Sorry — I’m so sorry.” You quickly retracted your hand and gasped. Apologising through near tears. He wet his lips, watching your tear lined eyes in worry.

“Hey— Conejita, what— what happened?”

Letting his hands rest on your cheeks, carbon fibre wiping at soft skin.

You sobbed, gripping his wrists and moving his weak hands closer to you. His brows furrowed further.

“I don’t — I don’t know, he —,”

You breathed fast against his palms, crying to him. Miles straightened himself up, ignoring the pains shooting up his body and trying to comfort you, shushing your cries and cradling your face.

“Mr. Warren he was —“

Miles’ eyes widened, finally letting the familiarity in his voice click. That was who it was, who was so mad at him, disgusted by the Spider.

Miles shuddered, thinking back to the off feeling he’d always had around the older man.

How he was always around you.

“What did he do.”

His eyes darkened and you cried harder, Miles had completely forgotten about his wounds, shifting to get up and find the fucking bastard.

You gripped him tighter, “Miles. He’s not —,”

“Where is he.”

“Dead.”

His breath escaped him, the blood made sense now. He got closer to you and slid his hand around your head, pushing your face into his good shoulder.

You cried again, shaking form cradled against his own weakened body.

“Shh, Mami. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“We’re alright, I promise.”

He hugged you closer, pressing a haste kiss to your forehead.

“You’re safe.”

—

You helped him home, having to hold him up and swing at the same time, which wasn’t much as a hassle as you thought it would be.

You both sat on your couch, him lying down with you sitting on his thighs.

He watched you work, suit and mask discarded somewhere in your living room and clad only in a pair of loose joggers you had found for him.

Your face was pinched into a frown, eyes still puffed from crying and a brows scrunched unpleasantly.

“Stop moving.”

“I’m not.” He threw his head back, rolling his eyes at your complaining.

“See? Moving.” You poked his chest and he winced.

“Okay! Okay— Damn, chica.”

You smiled at his tone, a small, timid thing. And he pushed down the fluttering in his stomach.

“You’re lucky you don’t need stitches.”

“Lucky? Havin’ you here longer would make me lucky.”

You grumbled, pouting at him angrily. “You want stitches, big boy?”

“You gonna stay on top of me?”

“No, but i’ll make it hurt real nice.”

He snorted, shifting to look at you better.

“Then, nah.”

You kept at your work, patting him with antiseptics and making him hold an ice pack across the forming bruises.

And he admired you, the streaks of light from the window falling against your face. A city ridden with crime making you so, so pretty.

“Why’d you come for me?”

You gave him a curious look but continued to patch him up. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I?”

He sniffled, averting his gaze. “I dunno I just— didn’t expect you to show up.”

You shook your head a little, understanding his fears.

“I’d always show for you, Miles.”

He hummed, flustered at the thought.

You moved up to his face, gently patting away blood with a warm hand towel, your other hand holding his face towards you. Fingertips brushing his cheeks in a hold so caring he might’ve fainted if it wasn’t you holding him. He’d stay awake for you this time. He’d protect you this time.

“I love you.”

You froze, towel stuck in the air and your eyes locked onto his.

Miles held his breath, waiting for your reply as he watched you clock the words.

His nerves got to him quick, spouting out whatever he could in your silence.

"Estaba hablando con Gwen y me ayudó a darme cuenta, ¿sabes? No paraba de decir que estaba enfermo de amor, yo no lo entendía y pensé que quizás debería..."

“I was just talking with Gwen and she helped me realise, you know? Kept saying I was lovesick and I didnt get it and I just thought maybe I should—“

“I love you too.”

He snapped his gaze back to you. Hope colouring his eyes a sparkling gold.

“You do?” He whispered, an intimacy running through his bloodstream. Heart pumping too fast in haste of the pure admiration he held for you.

You nodded, and your hands splayed out further, cradling the edge of his lips.

“I do.”

He tried to sit up, abs clenching under effort to get closer to you, you let him drag you forward. He ditched the ice pack and settled his hands on the crest of your thighs, rubbing his thumb over your hips.

“Say it again?”

He whined, begging you. He wanted, needed to hear you say it again.

“I love you.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, forehead pressing against your own. You followed.

The things he felt for you were too much, too much. His chest was heaving again, but not from pain. This was love he hadn’t experienced before, this was anything but painful.

"Dios, también te amo."

“God, I love you too.”

Your hands slipped from his lips to the back of his neck, scratching gently along his nape and he shivered.

“Let me kiss you? Please?”

He whispered again, voice cracking. Chapped lips brushing against your own softer ones in a featherlight touch. He was holding off, not letting himself the pleasure without you wanting him back — he wanted to know you wanted him back.

“Please.” You were sure, certain — and it was all he needed.

He kissed you sweetly, letting himself indulge in you without restraint.

He hadn’t known what he’d been missing out on — but now he does. Know he knows. And god, if he hadn’t felt more full in his entire life.

Everything had been bland compared to you, had been bitter and dull against the sweetness of your lips. Smooth against rough skin and he’d never felt something so soft before. His hands gripped you harder for just a moment and you pulled back merely an inch to catch your breath. He opened his eyes and watched your lips sparkle in the same light he’d admired minutes before.

“I love you too.”

You smiled at him and he pulled you ever closer. “I know, Miles.”

—

“I fuckin’ told ya’, mate.”

“Wh— I never said otherwise!”

“Yeah but ya’ neva’ agreed either, aye?”

“I never disagreed.”

“Pff, whateva.”

Gwen rolled her eyes, scoffing at the brit next to her with a smile on her face.

They watched you both as Miles nervously introduced you to Peter. A sort of Spider-convention was set up. And the invite was — begrudgingly — extended to you.

“They’re cute, though.”

“Bloody oath.”

You offered the older man with a warmed gaze, turning to the kid in his arms and cooing. He smiled at you, being one of your favourite spiders had its perks.

He was one of the only ones who never tried to make you join the society, so he got a pass from you.

Miles held your hand and smiled, chatting with Peter excitedly once he realised the lack of tension.

“Do you want to hold her?”

“Do I—,” You looked up at him hopefully. “Yes! Uh— Yeah. Yes please.”

You dropped Miles’ hand and he pouted, watching you take the baby from Peters arms, the early father fretting as you waved him off, insuring him you knew how to care for a child.

Peter relaxed and stood next to Miles as you rocked his baby gently. A rather fond feeling overtaking them both — leading Peter to take a photo of you with his kid, and Miles to shyly ask him to send it to him.

The look of you with a kid? It was way too early in life for baby fever.

He huffed when he heard people making kissy noises behind him. You too preoccupied with entertaining the kid to realise it.

He turned to the trio of teens behind him and flipped them off. Pavitr gasped offendedly at him and Hobie and Gwen laughed, causing Miles to roll his eyes and snort.

“Assholes.”

You gently passed MayDay back to Peter and gave a quick kiss to her head. Peter going off to get her a bottle.

Miles came up next to you and you smiled at him, watching the skyline from the buildings rooftop.

“[Name].”

You huffed and rolled your eyes at the voice behind you.

Way to ruin a moment.

“Miguel.”

You turned to him, Miles cringing quickly as he turned with you.

“Hey— Miguel! Crazy seein’ you here, haha! Insane.” Miles nervously laughed, his voice deepening on the last word and you coughed a laugh, agreeing with him.

“Uhuh, crazy.” A sly smile adorned your features and you grabbed his hand again, interlocking your fingers in a foxy movement.

“You weren’t invited.”

“Huh? Of course I wasn’t!—“ Your smirk grew bigger. “—I’m a plus one.”

He glared down at you and it only felt all the more justifiable, he opened his mouth to talk before Peter was dancing over with MayDay held out.

“Here take this, thanks!”

He quickly handed her off to Miguel and spun him around by his shoulders, continuing to walk with him in the other direction. “She needs a sleep. Rock her to sleep.”

“Wh—“

“Rock her.”

—

Miles gripped your hips, swaying gently with you to the soft music playing in your kitchen. Your Ma had left two weeks prior for a month long work trip, and he couldn’t stay away. The domesticity he had built with you reaching an all time high as he watched you cook.

He rested his head on your shoulder and you both continued to sway a little. Moving his hands past your hips to lean his hands on the bench you cut your food on, caging you in slightly. You hummed, reaching for a tomato and placing it on the board.

“I love you.”

You giggled — a sweet, girlish thing.

“Love you too, baby.”

“Love you more.” He smiled against your shoulder.

“Pfft, yeah okay, big boy.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed, and his heart fluttered again.

—

GOD DAMN AS ALWAYS WAY OFF THE RAILS

lovely translator @sataraxia

(literally my bf the delusions are getting worse he’s my bf guys!!! ⬇️)

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

Illinois Governor JB Pritzker has signed a bill that is aimed at fighting homelessness.

Called “Home IL,” it will bring state agencies, nonprofit organizations and other advocates together. The bill focuses on an equity-based approach, which includes the voices and contributions of those who have experience homelessness.

It codifies the collaboration to move Illinois to “functional zero” homelessness by bolstering the safety net, targeting high-risk populations, expanding affordable housing, securing financial stability for unhoused individuals and closing the mortality gap.

“Every person deserves access to safe shelter and the dignity that comes with housing,” Pritzker said. “This is a first-of-its-kind multi-agency cooperative effort — bringing together state agencies, nonprofit organizations, advocates, and people with lived experience to prevent and end homelessness. I’m grateful for their dedication and believe that together, we can prevent and end homelessness once and for all.”

Rockford has already taken strides in this aspect. In 2017, it became the first community to reach “functional zero” levels among veterans and the chronically homeless.

Illinois’ Interagency Task Force and Community Advisory Council works across 17 state departments and agencies, as well as over 100 processes, programs and policies, to develop a comprehensive plan to combat homelessness.

The goal of the plan is to prevent shelter entry or ensure that shelter stays are limited and lead to quick transitions into stable living situations.

Pritzker has also committed about $360 million for the initiative in his FY24 budget. These investments include:

• $118 million to support unhoused populations seeking shelter and services, including $40.7 million in the Emergency and Transitional Housing Program.

• $50 million in Rapid ReHousing services for 2,000 households, including short-term rental assistance and targeted support for up to two years.

• $40 million in Permanent Supportive Housing (PSH) Capital funds to develop 90+ new PSH units providing long term rental assistance and case management.

• $37 million in Emergency Shelter capital funds to create more than 460 non-congregate shelter units.

• $35 million for supportive housing services, homeless youth services, street outreach, medical respite, re-entry services, access to counsel, and other shelter diversion supports.

• $21.8 million to provide homelessness prevention services to approximately 6,000 more families.

• $30 million for court-based rental assistance.

• $15 million to fund Home Illinois Innovations Pilots.

• $12.5 million to create 500 new scattered site PSH units.

“People experiencing the trauma of housing instability are our neighbors and community members who deserve to be treated with humanity and dignity. With this cooperative effort, Illinois is ensuring our state agencies can continue to collaborate, and that stakeholders are at the table with us, to support our most vulnerable in living healthy, well, and with dignity.” Lieutenant Governor Juliana Stratton said. “Our state is making it clear that we will continue to work together so we can all move forward, and we will focus on holistic strategies that bring us closer to ending homelessness in our state.”

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Someday

A/N: Happy Cody Day!

Pairing: Commander Cody x Reader (GN)

Rating: T

Wordcount: 526

Warnings and tags: straight fluff; established secret/forbidden relationship.

Summary: You enjoy a quiet morning with the man you are absolutely not supposed to be with.

Suggested listening:

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

Shore leave mornings were your favorite. They were too rare, these golden, stolen moments with Cody when you didn’t need to sneak past security holocams or explain your presence outside the marshal commander’s quarters to overzealous troopers patrolling the hallways of the Negotiator. Mornings like these were to be savored, and you hoarded them like the precious treasure they were. No comlinks, no datapads. Just slow, lazy hours sipping caf that hadn’t come from an industrial machine and reveling in the quiet intimacy of time alone with your lover.

Cody was reading a volume of Venestrian poetry—an actual flimsi edition he’d found in some charity shop in the Mid-Levels. You lay on the sofa with your legs draped across his lap, dabbling lazily with a piece of charcoal in your sketchbook. At that precise moment, you were trying to capture the exact way the warm sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains caught on the planes of his cheekbones and cast deep shadows on the hollows of his face. It was a futile task if ever there was one, but still, it gave you an excuse to admire him openly.

The only sounds were the soft scratch of charcoal on paper, the occasional rustle of a turning page, and the music playing quietly from your favorite holoradio station. The song ended, and a new one began, its melody hauntingly familiar.

“I love this song,” you murmured absently.

He glanced at you, then set aside his book. “Dance with me.”

“Hmm?” you asked, startled.

“Dance with me,” he repeated in a low voice.

He tugged the sketchbook gently out of your hand, then trailed his fingers up your wrist. With a tiny smile, you shifted your legs off his lap, and he stood, offering his hand to help you up. He pulled you to your feet and seamlessly into his arms, swaying in time to the slow beat just as the singer’s lovely, wistful voice joined the instruments.

“Is that Ryl?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied. “She’s singing about…”

You trailed off, keenly self-conscious about your tendency to monologue. He smoothed his hand up your shoulder and stroked his thumb across your clavicle softly.

“Tell me,” he whispered. “What is she saying?”

“She’s singing about all the lovely, distant places she wishes to see—Naboo; the temple ruins at Jedha, Cantonica; Scarif; Rugosa. She wants to experience them all instead of just staying at home on Coruscant.”

“Does she ever go?” he asked.

“No. It’s a song about longing, not about doing.”

“That sounds sad.”

You considered for a moment. “I don’t think it’s sad or happy, either one.”

“No?”

“It’s more like daydreaming or wishing.”

He gazed pensively into your eyes, tracing his thumb up the side of your throat. “Is that what you wish for?”

You shrugged. “It's not like we haven't seen our share of the galaxy.”

“I wouldn't exactly call what we do sightseeing,” he observed drily.

“True,” you laughed. “Maybe when the war is over, we can see it together.”

“Mmm.” He pressed his lips to your forehead. “Sounds nice. No more fighting. No more hiding. No more pretending.”

“I know,” you sighed. “Someday.”

Taglist:

@secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella @cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @mandos-mind-trick @littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @starqueensthings @clonemedickix @marierg @idontgetanysleep @moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine @multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam @banksys-rat @skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @dickarchivist @cw80831 @kimiheartblade @meredithroseg @flyiingsly @lightwise @swcowgal @reader6898 @cdblake1565 @epicy0n @codyday2224

[counterfics]

DOWNSHIFTING BOUNDARIES PART 4.2 (FINAL)

♡ Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Sainz!Reader SMAU ♡ Requested: Yes | you can send in your own requests here <3 ♡ Warnings: Cussing, Name calling, Gossiping, Potential misspellings, Rushed text dialogue? Female reader, Reader being a bad bitch (If more let me know) ♡ Desc: Rumors are not new to the f1 community, but when a f1 gossip page digs into a certain driver’s life and puts details of their private life on blast it starts to become an issue. With fans coming to their own conclusions and developing their own stories how will their relationship prevail through it? What new information about the driver and his personal relationship will be revealed to the public? Keeping boundaries up between you and your fans is quite a difficult task that Charles soon realizes. ♡ Notes: Please feel free to interact, and tell me what you think of the series! It really helps boost my confidence!! Also don’t feel shy to send asks or just talk to me i'm in need of mutuals and more ideas to create!! This is the final of the series, might add more mini blurbs here and there for it but no more big parts, so send in ideas for more things to write please!!! I was really happy with how I planned out part 3 and 4 in my notes honestly its pretty funny, if yall wanna see my thought process lmk LOL. I kinda feel like the ending was rushed so I apologize  ♡ Guide: f1 masterlist | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4.1| part 4.2 FINAL

♡ DO NOT STEAL, TRANSLATE, OR COPY MY WORK ONTO ANY OTHER PLATFORM !! ♡ main masterlist | f1 masterlist | Inbox | previous part | series masterlist ♡ sidenotes: I have made a forum that you can fill out to be added into taglists in general, you can still request to be added via asks, etc.. also thank you all for following the series so far it really means a lot to me! This finally got me back in the spirit to look forward to making things and writing again! Please reach out with ideas or just for a chat as I am lonely and need to keep myself occupied and busy! ♡ Taglist: [Some could'nt be tagged, you can fill out this form to be added to a general taglist if you would like since this is the final part of the series!] @stinkyjax @thef1diary @a-beaverhausen @ireadthensuetheauthors @dutifullyannoyingfox @ushygushybaby @janeholt3 @obsessedovermadrid @bokutos-babyowl @multi-fandom-fan221b @shiftermeance @mxdi0 @d3kstar @boiohboii @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @loloekie

[python333]

HAI! i rlly like your platonic 141 fics and I'm wondering if we could get some more dad price and/or brother gaz sleepy cuddles? :3

stretched too thin — python333

— — — —

synopsis gaz notices you overworking yourself one night and decides to step in before you end up pulling an all-nighter.

relationships platonic!gaz & gn!reader.

characters gaz.

word count 2.05k

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of pet names [love, darling], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note oh my god im so sorry i disappeared for like. a month. ill try my best to not be gone for more than a week at a time, but with all of my schoolwork and just over all stress ive been experiencing lately, i dont know if ill be able to get fics out every week :< ill try my best though! please accept this fic as an apology—its another big bro gaz one!! special shoutout to everyone else who has an older sibling thats very distant with them, you and me are in the same boat fr!! also, last thing—im thinking about making a discord server where i announce when fics are being written and published and stuff, but i dunno if yall would join or anything, so if u would pls lmk!!

You haven’t left your office in five hours. 

Recently—just about two days ago—you finished up an assignment fairly quickly and, as a result, had to write a detailed report of said assignment. It went over the mission you’d gone on, and listed off every major detail you could think of, though because you just can’t give yourself a break you were constantly thinking of other details you might’ve missed even though there was little chance you’d missed anything.

The mission wasn’t anything too important, honestly. It was originally going to be a week-long camp-out reconnaissance by an enemy task force’s base, obtaining information on their schedule and what they did throughout the day and whatnot. However, only a day into the mission, the small squad of soldiers that had accompanied you saw another small military group observing the same group you’d been observing.

So, naturally, you observed them as well. Aren’t you just the best multi-tasker?

The task force eventually found out about the other group, just a day later, while your squad was still in the clear to continue your observations. So, your mission had quickly come to a close—but, because of the circumstances under which the mission had come to a close, you were required to write an extremely detailed report on the other group and the group you’d been observing.

It would be an understatement to say you were tired. You’re exhausted.

Between the non-stop writing, the coffee sitting on your desk that’s been microwaved five times and has been refilled thrice, and the uncomfortable chair you’ve sat in that you have yet to replace, you’re extremely exhausted. Your movements are sluggish, your fingers aren’t as swift on the keyboard of your computer as they usually are, and worst of all—you still have more to write. 

Your eyes stung and felt dry, your hands felt like they were going to stop working completely at any moment, and you were overall just exhausted. 

You look over at the clock on your desk, and it reads 02:28 AM, indicating that you would only have about four hours to sleep if you went to bed now. I’m too far into this report to stop now, You tell yourself, sighing as you blink slowly at your computer screen, If only my vision didn’t keep getting blurry… 

Suddenly, you hear a knock at the door. Your eyebrows furrow together in confusion, and for a second you think you’re hallucinating until the knock sounds once more. 

Reluctantly, with a voice raspy from not using it almost all day, you call out, “Come in!” 

Your voice is softer and quieter than you’d like it to be, but it doesn’t matter too much to you at this moment—at least, not in your foggy mind that still begs you for sleep, even when you have far more of your report to finish. 

The door opens with a creak, and in walks Gaz. 

“Sarg,” He greets you, not bothering to close the door behind him as he walks up to your desk, “Pleasure to see you for the first time in, what… three days?” 

“Two days and eighteen hours,” You correct him, taking a moment to crack your stiff knuckles, not taking your eyes off of your monitor, “And you know you don’t have to call me ‘sarg’ or ‘sergeant’ or anything. We’re the same rank.” 

Gaz promptly ignores you, “Right, well, anything over a day is way too long for me to go without seeing you. Why’re you all cooped up in here on your computer?”

“‘Cause I need to write a report on my assignment,” You briefly explain, before lightly goading Gaz, “Not all of us need a shit ton of attention every day like you do.” 

“Ehh,” Gaz theatrically makes a thinking face, before shrugging, “Not sure what you mean by ‘us’, but alright.” 

“By ‘us’, I mean everyone but you.” 

“Surely that doesn’t include you, right?” 

“It does.” 

Gaz gasps quietly at your reply, before dramatically responding, “Oh, you can’t be serious.”

“I absolutely can,” You hum, finally taking your eyes off of your computer screen to look up at Gaz, “Is it so hard for you to believe that I don’t need to talk to you every waking hour?” 

“It is, actually,” Gaz scoffs, “Because I know that you do need to talk to me every waking hour.” 

“Uh, no I don’t,” You childishly argue, raising an eyebrow at Gaz.

“Uh, yes you do,” Gaz immaturely argues back, crossing his arms, “Look me in the eyes and tell me that the past two days and eighteen hours haven’t been shit because I haven’t given you any attention.”

You open your mouth to form a response but quickly close it, realizing that yeah, actually, I kind of do crave his attention. 

Fuck.

“You’re not the only person that gives me attention,” You point out, hoping to find some way to change the subject.

“Sure, but you like the attention I give you the most,” Gaz hums, leaning forward to rest his crossed arms on your desk opposite of where you sit.

“You don’t know that.”

“Then tell me that I’m wrong,” Gaz challenges you.

You narrow your eyes at him, glaring at him for a moment before sighing, “You suck.”

“Maybe I suck, but you look like you haven’t slept for the past week,” Gaz points out, “You look exhausted, by the way. And dehydrated. Actually, you just look like the human embodiment of a headache.” 

“What the fuck?” 

“I mean that in the most loving, non-offensive way possible.”

“You come into my office, accuse me of needing attention from you, then you insult me by calling me the human version of a headache?”

“It wasn’t an insult!” Gaz raises his hands in surrender, before sighing, “I’m being serious. You look dead, [c/n]. You need sleep.” 

“What I need is to finish this report,” You huff out, beginning to turn your attention back to your computer, before Gaz’s hand is quickly placed on your chin and forces you to look back at him. 

“No, what you need is some rest,” Gaz argues, more serious this time, taking his hand off of your chin—something you shouldn’t miss nearly as much as you do, the warmth of his hand fading far too quickly from your face—and bringing it back to rest on the desk. 

“Maybe you need rest, Gaz.”

“Sure I do,” He shrugs, “But I’m only going to sleep if you do.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Really? You’re pulling that card?”

“I am.” 

You stare at him for a moment, mentally weighing your options, before sighing and bringing your elbows up to the table so that you can place your forehead in your hands.

On one hand, if you stay in your office you can finish up your report before four and then go to sleep, and hope that you magically feel active even with just an hour or two of sleep in the morning. On the other hand, if you go to sleep now, so does Gaz, and then you both get more than just two hours of sleep. 

After another moment of consideration, you huff out a frustrated breath and mutter, “Fine.” 

Gaz smiles down at you and walks around your desk to your side of it, holding out a hand for you to grab to help yourself up from your chair and using his free hand to save your report and power off your monitor. 

You take his hand and stand up, your legs a little weak and balance iffy from sitting down for so long, but within the next few minutes you’re sure you’ll be able to properly walk. You let go of his hand once you’re positive you won’t fall over, and once he sees that you’re able to walk, Gaz silently walks towards the door of your office. Just as quietly, you follow him. 

He turns off the lights for you and lets you walk out of the office first, locking the door from the inside and closing it once you’re out. Once he’s done, he takes the lead again and you follow him down to his sleeping quarters. It’s not too long of a walk there, only two minutes at most.

Once you’re there, Gaz opens the door and lets you walk in first. Once you’re inside and Gaz has closed the door, you shrug off your camouflage patterned jacket and toe off your already loosened tan boots, leaving you in just your camouflage cargo pants and army green undershirt.

You look down at your pants with a frown, knowing from experience that sleeping in them was incredibly uncomfortable and left you regretting your whole existence the morning after, but before you could even look over at Gaz to tell him of your situation, you felt something being thrown at you. 

You immediately turn your attention to the item that had been hurled at you—the item in question being a pair of gray sweatpants, some that would probably be a little bit looser than you’d prefer on your figure—and then look over at Gaz with a questioning look. 

“Figured you wouldn’t wanna sleep in that,” Gaz shrugs, nodding to your cargo pants in response to your nonverbal confusion. 

You hum in appreciation, not wanting to talk too much at the moment, instead waiting for Gaz to look away before slipping off your pants and replacing them with the sweatpants Gaz had thrown at you. The fit isn’t as uncomfortable as you thought they’d be—they’re loose and hang low on your hips, just like you thought they would, of course, but they don’t feel nearly as weird as you thought they would.

Once you’ve tightened the strings on the waist of the pants, you get into Gaz’s bed, pulling the covers up and over yourself. Gaz quickly settles into the bed next to you, quickly getting himself comfortable under the sheets, and pulling the covers up and over his shoulders in one swift movement.

He gets closer to you, so close that his chest presses against your back and you can feel the tip of his nose ghosting over the top of your head. He wraps one arm over your body to pull you impossibly closer to him, and his other arm snakes underneath the side of your body so that both of his arms are wrapped around you.

He hums contently and his thumb rubs small circles into your clothed stomach, the action—despite being small—causing your stomach to warm up almost immediately. 

“Comfortable, darling?” Gaz asks quietly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. 

“Very,” You mumble back, trying to subtly lean your head back against Gaz in hopes of getting at least one more kiss. Noticing your efforts, he huffs out a small laugh and presses another gentle kiss right at the edge of your hairline before pressing one last one to your forehead. 

Even with the comforting atmosphere, you can’t find it within yourself to fully relax, your body still tense and stiff underneath the blanket. Gaz, just like he did with your “subtle” movements, notices and frowns. 

“Just sleep,” Gaz tiredly mumbles into the top of your head, “You have to get up in three hours. The sooner you sleep, the more sleep you get.” 

You don’t respond, instead simply sighing and forcing your eyes closed. You do have to admit, it’s nice being able to actually close your eyes for something other than blinking, and closing your eyes for longer than half a second has made you realize that they were even drier than you thought they were. 

Exhausted and ready to finally sleep, you eventually get to a point where you no longer need to force your eyes shut, and as a result, your whole body relaxes for the first time in almost six hours. 

“G’night, love,” Gaz murmurs, feeling your body relax next to his. You hum in acknowledgment of his words, not finding the energy within yourself to properly respond, instead finding yourself drifting off into a deep sleep. 

And if four hours later, Gaz wakes up and simply lies there, not waking you and instead letting you get some more sleep despite you having to be up soon, nobody has to know.

[rin-and-jade]

Job Roulette.. or Not: A Post about Alter Roles

Roles like Hosts? Protectors?.. maybe a Cleaner? an Academic?.. why is there an alter who comes out only for driving?! What about these other alters who don't really do much--they got to have one right??

--Are probably what you might be thinking when this topic comes up. But, there's something more into it,, it's not all about what job or how the role is assigned to an alter only.

Well, for this post, lets talk EVERYTHING about how roles work, what kinds exist, why it's there?? And especially, why are some more task specific, multi-role, or even... none? Bowl straight to the point, let's roll out. Haha punny

Ok J, spill. What are they?

Hold on. Im pulling out this dictionary definition of it--ah!

"defined positions that are associated with given responsibilities and are usually allocated according to the position or ability of each person."

To put it in system terms, it's how different parts can do something that others couldn't, or, feel a sense of responsibility in one particular aspect. That's making sense right? But oh.. you still want to know why they're there at the first place. Fine, follow me!

Yeah, show me why!

As aforementioned, this disorder boxes up our different parts of selves with amnesia and weaker bonds of connection which really sets us back on easing our 'modes' for different situations.. not only that, a part's moods and state/personality can greatly affect what kinds of jobs they get, it's not so random as you'd thought.

So, thing is, because some alters have a distinguished ability capable in doing something, depending what fragment or pre-existing knowledge/experience it holds, that can become it's very own job task.

They can be hereditary (upon split or formed), gained (fuse or passed traits), or even learnt (by its own commitment, without any prior skills). Roles come from many origins, and none of them are so different.

But, some are more complex..

I get it, some can have more than one, have ultra specific ones, or literally just don't have any. Now it makes you think--if it was from predisposed strengths each alters naturally have, then why are some more niche? or like, anything else? I know why:

Our brains are complex alright. We both can think maybe we can do (even if we don't like it) and not do something, and these are all compartmentalized in each alters, so basically its part feelings, part acceptance of such trait, and part commitment as the formula. Even confidence or the call to action affects this outcome!

This can apply to who can handle more than one jobs, or for those who are more specific or lesser known roles. In fact, roles do not have any limits, they are specifically tailored for your functionality so don't fret if you have an alter who's job is only to sleep, or anything else 'silly' !

What about the ones without.. roles?

Do you think it feels wrong to not have roles? While it is true that roles are needed, they're not actually a required standard for everyone to have a job task. Mainly, ANP's are the one who usually have roles, but EP's can too.

If they do not have a role, they might be disinterested or think they don't have any potential, or sometimes they're only there to hold memories / don't have the qualified skill sets, and thats okay! You can take proactive action in anyhow you'd like, just remember, every parts aren't forced to contribute, you know? It doesn't make them useless, maybe more on passive support/back ups.

I've also seen some systems who don't really have roles because the alters are all well-rounded, as in pick up other's tasks and that they're not assigned/compelled to do a particular job at all times, like being flexible. everyone's different!

Make sense, anything else?

Well, that we are not bound to roles, they do not define us, and that we can lose, or change roles according to our growth. Have anyone ever mentioned that?

Im aware that we tend to put too much emphasis on having jobs and being contributive, but the most important thing to keep in mind is that we all in this together, and to help each other, in a way or another.

Never forget that you're more than your job! Maybe try to enjoy other parts of life, yeah?

--

Thats the end of the post. What will you do if you find a new alter with no impressions of having a role? How do you see roles in your own pov? What's the first thing you'd do if you were to be free from your job task, if any? Feel free to let me know, i hope this has been informative, im willing to add anything if something's missing!

- j

[fate-motif]

i was thinking about the borg queen today.

it's undeniable that the concept of a true inhuman techo-biological hivemind was watered down when the writers created the queen. suddenly they weren't an unfathomable entity; thousands of mine accomplishing the incomprehensible (to us) task of melding as one. suddenly they just became cyborg bees or ants or a cartoon of what authoritarian governments do. there's a queen and she gives orders. sometimes she cuts off your head to inspect for a corruption to 'perfection'. sometimes she weeps for the loss of 'her children'. this shift let whatever writer handled her turn her into whatever kind of villain they needed for the show or movie.

and yet i couldn't stop myself from thinking. a single brain holds multitudes. part of what makes the borg horrible is that the diversity of life and cultures is flattened into a mold of 'perfection'. also, by assimilating individuals they are killing the diversity that one mind can express separate to others.

and yet they are also a multi-species conglomerate that relies on the breadth of species they have assimilated to make themselves stronger? also, if the borg are truly one mind, one psychology at play, would the complexity of their collective not call for the expansion of their hivemind into different archetypes within itself? the borg are not just conquerors: they are scientists, they are explorers, they are parents and they are children. no matter how much the collective centers unity, singularity in their members, diversity is impossible to eradicate from the borg. this is true no matter how much they try. there is no thing as a true hivemind.

which brings me back to the queen. she is what allows the paradox of the borg to work. sometimes she's a despot, sometimes she's a grieving mother, sometimes she's a seductress, and sometimes she is a revolutionary. she is the impossibility of true unity put in a specific box so that the rest of the collective can embody one-ness to the best of its abilities. she is the voice that tells you to get up in the morning when most of you is screaming for five more minutes. she is the one who tells you the truth to your face when you don't want it to be true. she is a thought exercise for the collective. she doesn't exist except as attempt to juggle the enormity of the hivemind without letting it settle in stone and never move again in the contentment of its one-ness.

i wonder if the borg queen's original self had anything to do at all with what she became.

[petermorwood]

So we were in Dublin...

...because @dduane was getting another MRI then a haircut-style-colour.

NB, not both at the same place, multi-tasking has its limits.

Between medical and tonsorial we went to The Ramen Bar for an excellent late lunch: DD had prawn gyoza and Tonkutsu Red (mild)...

...while I had chicken kara-age and Spicy Torishio (hot)

There was just one small problem; the appetisers were correctly assigned but as the mains arrived we didn't notice (probably because we were merrily sharing dumplings and chicken pieces) a small but vital error in who got what.

At least not until I sampled mine and said "For so-called hot, this is pretty unimpressive!" then noticed DD was having rather the opposite response to her so-called mild.

I like spicy food. I like food that fights back. In her case the food was winning.

Once we'd swapped the mains back to their appropriate sides of the table and DD's startled palate cooled down, all was well again, with an extra bonus for the trip.

MRI scan, hairdo AND cleared sinuses.

*****

Memo 1 - we recommend The Ramen Bar, especially for lunch, when prices are lower than at dinner; the menus are otherwise identical and portions are very generous, i.e. fair at dinner and a bargain at lunch.

Memo 2 - Their hot spicing is pretty tingly, though not overwhelming regardless of DD's reaction; spicy is always spicier when you're not expecting it, and doubly so when you're not used to / don't like it.

They have something else, however, which I intend to try For Science. Also for curiosity, though DD reminds me what that proverbially does to cats...

Later for that... :->

[bts-0t-7]

So What? | MYG | Chapter 13

Pair: Hybrid Cat Yoongi x F Reader 

Summary: Running from a past that foreshadows him, Yoongi is adamant about ever turning back to his human counterpart form, in hopes that nobody would recognise him and take him away. You worked at a cafe with your best friend. As a more-than-normal day seemed to go by, you discovered something amidst your housing block. Perhaps - just perhaps, the nighttime is where the angels arrive. 

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hybrid, non-idol au

Warnings: Contains explicit language, abuse

WC: 2.2K

Taglist: @bearr02 @svnbangtansworld @vintageoldfashion @rkivemaar @bontensbabygirl @codeinebelle @ldysmfrst @idkjustlovingbts @popcatx0 @yoonjinsgirl @marblemoonstones

< Prev. Series Masterlist. Next > 

You thought that constantly moving your body - or doing something - would take your mind off the elephant in there. But it doesn’t. You were trained to multi-task, your brain was trained to move miles per hour and it used to be one of your favourite traits. Now, you absolutely hated it. 

You didn’t know if Yoongi was coming back or if he was completely out of your life. No matter how hard you try to distract yourself, your brain circles back to him. You just couldn’t seem to forget the one thing you don’t want to remember. 

It was infuriating. 

The very fact that your own body would betray you like that. Your rest was ripped from you. 

You have cleaned the house from top to bottom, not a single dust in sight. From vacuuming the floor to wiping the tiny edges around the corners, washing sheets and curtains to cleaning the windows and grills. The only room you didn’t dare to touch was his room. You cleaned the floor but did not wash the sheets. You left the cat stuffy on the bed, still lying on the bed, belly up. You had spent the most time in that room. It hurts to see what belonged to him still lying around when his very own presence was not around. 

It sure was not easy to forget someone who doesn’t want you to. 

You were not certain about what had happened after the lawsuit and all Namjoonw told you was, “Yoongi is doing okay.” You didn’t quite know how popular he had gotten until Seokjin had rushed over in the afternoon to check on you. He had slipped that Yoongi giving talks on speaking up for oneself on hybrid platforms. 

Call you stupid for making yourself remember the very person you want to forget. Yet, you were here, lying on the sofa, scrolling through the comments on the latest magazines. 

You had realised that Lillianne and Seokjin came out with some sort of schedule to check on you and as much as you claimed that you were more than capable of taking care of yourself, you were grateful for the company you had. Seokjin had originally banned you from work, wanting you to take some time off and process the lawsuit. But you had done all that you could do in the house and sat in a bundle of blankets most of the time, you begged him to let you come back. 

No, supposedly one wouldn’t call it begging. But it is his company after all and you could only work if you turned up. So you did. Turned up one of the days and clocked in. You worked until Seokjin figured out that you were not home and went down to the shop. You had expected him to be furious but all your brother did was sigh and sat at one of the benches to continue his work. 

But the distraction at work could only last so long. 

When you get home, aching body, you still lay in bed to scroll through your social media platforms. While you had your fair share of time online before you took Yoongi in, you didn’t need much of it. You’d rather spend more time with him than spend time scrolling mindlessly on that little device. 

Seokjin had dropped you off that night, reminding you to take care of yourself. Namjoon had called you a few hours after the lawsuit, telling you that the process of finalizing was going to take more time than expected due to its further complications behind the doors. Jimin and Ji-Hye had called you occasionally to check up on you. Hoseok called to keep you as updated as possible. 

Not that it made anything easier for you of course. Ending things on a bad note is not the way you like to have things. You wanted to have some time with Yoongi, to express yourself and apologise to him. But Namjoon told you that it was better to not be seen with him for the time being as people may take it the wrong way and see it as you hurting him. 

“You gotta remember that he is no longer under your care. People would take it that you want him back and now it is a sensitive topic with the facility abuse he has gotten. People might think that you are no different from his previous owners and you will get yourself in further trouble that way.”

That day the fight occurred, Yoongi had made it extremely clear to you that he didn’t want you - as a mate or an owner. These thoughts circled you, constantly hovering over like a dark cloud. It was essentially living in your mind rent-free. 

Trying to keep yourself as updated as possible on the process of finalisation, you were constantly slapped with how well Yoongi was doing. Hunting Namjoon for some slick of information also came in useless. He does not even give you so much of a hint as to what is coming next.

But Hoseok had called a few hours ago during your dinner break, informing you that Yoongi’s tracker is located at Jimin’s house. At that moment, you wanted to barge in and demand why the Parks didn’t let you know. But you restrained yourself. If Yoongi felt that their house was a safer space, he was free to stay and you did not want to intrude in his space any further.

But it was a frazzled Jimin who reached out to you just as you were about to head to bed, that ticked off a box in your head. 

They didn’t know he was coming either. 

“Y/N! Oh god, finally! I have been trying to reach you for ages! I even called Seokjin but he said he didn’t know where you were!” Jimin screeched. “Are you okay? Home? Safe?”

“I'm fine, Jimin. I was at work so I didn’t manage to pick up the phone.”

Oh, Seokjin definitely knew where you were. You rolled your eyes. At least he saved your ass from crying at work. 

“Yoongi - He, he is over at my house. I just wanted to let you know.”

You sighed. “Yeah… Hoseok managed to reach me during my break time and informed me about the situation.”

“Oh.”

The silence through the phone was uncomfortable. 

“Well, I’ll talk some sense into him. I promise.”

“Jimin, don’t.” You held out your hand in front of you like he could see it. “Just - Just leave him be. If he wished to come back, he’d come back. If he doesn’t, he doesn’t. I will not force him and be a tethering burden to him anymore.”

“You’re not a burden!” 

“But Yoongi might feel that way. Opinions can be easily changed. Just leave him be.”

You were so close to crying. The very fact that Yoongi doesn’t want to come home has already pushed you to exhaustion. You didn’t even know if he chose to remain with you or to be a free hybrid. The choices of the lawsuit stayed fresh in your mind, plaguing both your consciousness and subconsciousness.

“Okay.”

Jimin swore he said okay but he wouldn’t be okay. 

He was a man of his word and he hated to go back on any of his promises. But this time, he would. He would not sit and watch you and Yoongi grow further apart, yearning for each other but never trying because of the lack of communication. 

But he could understand why it turned out like this. When he told Ji-Hye that he was a hybrid, and showed her, he was so afraid that she would leave him. And when she told him that she needed some time to think again, Jimin was absolutely crushed. 

He felt like his whole world had crumbled beneath his feet. 

But he couldn’t stay away from his mate for a very long time. He tried to gain back her affection but what he didn’t know then was that Ji-Hye never did lose any love for him. They had a - luckily - happy ending. Not all the time do humans and hybrids come together. And he could see - as clear as day - that the both of you loved the other deeply. 

So much so that you made up assumptions about the other and caused pain. 

Jimin put down the phone and sighed. 

Fluffing up his hair, he got up from the comfy confinements of his bed and headed over to Yoongi’s. No, he would not stand around idly and watch the show. 

Knocking his knuckles against the door of the guest room, he heard a muffled “Come in”. Slowly opening the door, he spotted Yoongi at the edge of the room, curled up with multiple blankets on top of him. 

“Is the bed not comfortable?”

Yoongi shook his head. “I just got used to sleeping beside Y/N and the bed feel big right now. If you don’t mind, I’ll sleep on the floor instead.”

Jimin nodded. He understood how he felt. The house always felt lonely when Ji-Hye was overseas or working the night shifts. 

“I just wanted to talk to you about something. It -”

“If it’s anything about Y/N, I don’t want to hear it.”

(Well, you certainly can hear a pin drop after that.)

“It hurts as much as it is already. Stop. Everybody is telling me about Y/N, Y/N. What you guys don’t understand is that I have already lost her. I hurt her. The one person who showed me the world. So I’m trying to give her space - because I know that if I go back, I’ll be kicked out immediately. I just want to savour it for now.” Jimin’s heart clenched at the way the cat hybrid sniffled in the jacket. “Y/N doesn’t want a bad kitty and I’ve been a horrible one. So just leave me alone. Please.”

By now, tears were streaming down Yoongi’s face non-stop. 

Jimin knows that it is important for people to cry - that it is a way of expression. And by no means does he want to stop Yoongi from doing so. But he needed to clear the air even if it meant so. 

“Yoongi.” He called out the cat’s name and only when he saw no resistance, ears tilting in his direction, did he continue. “Y/N-” Jimin’s throat closed up. He knew there were a few ways that this conversation would go and he was hoping for better options. “Y/N would love you home.”

“That’s not true. Y/N doesn’t want a bad kitty.” The way the last two words rolled off Yoongi’s tongue felt venomous to him. 

“Yoongi, Y/N would rather you be home with her than on the streets. That girl loves you so much you have no idea. And I’m sure you love her the same. The both of you are trying to give each other space but right now, space is not what you need. The both of you need to work it out - to understand each other.”

“You are hurting and so is she. Being away from each other isn’t helping the case either. Y/N does not know whether you have chosen to stay or leave. No information was put out and due to the NDA, even Namjoon and Hoseok are not allowed to talk about it. Her heart hurts every day. She is not given the news and only if you had chosen the option of becoming a free hybrid, she would receive termination papers.”

At this, Yoongi shot up, the blankets around him falling onto the floor. His red-rimmed eyes puffed up even more as his lips wobbled, an indication of another waterfall. “But - But - I didn’t choose that!” Yoongi bawled into his hands. “I chose to stay! I swear, I swear!”

All Jimin wanted to do was to bring Yoongi in for a hug but he knew he needed to stand firm for now. Balling his hands into fists at his side, Jimin continued. “She has not received the papers and she hopes to never. But it is the anxiety of it being at her doorstep every day that is starting to wear her down.”

The sound of crying and whining echoed in the room. 

Sighing, Jimin walked over to Yoongi, bringing his arms over the man and pulling him in for a hug. The both of them swayed side to side until Yoongi’s cries subsided to sniffles. Short and harsh, he was still trying to catch his breath. 

Jimin pulled away, earning a stumble from Yoongi. “Go talk to Y/N, Yoongi. Trust me, she wants nothing more than you in her arms, back home all snuggled up.”

Yoongi only turned back and walked towards the bunch of blankets, starting the process of wrapping them around himself again. Jimin sighed softly and left the room, turning off the lights. Only as he closed the door, did he hear Yoongi say, “I’ll think about it.”