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just-jordie-things · 4 months

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you want to kiss me so bad! - fushiguro megumi

word count: 3k warnings: none :) summary: "ooh you just want to kiss me" "and what about it?" more info: aged up characters! everyone works as sorcerers for jujutsu tech, friends to lovers, yuji nobara and reader are besties with a gossip groupchat a/n: thank u stef for this idea, it was so much fun to write !!! (obvi i got carried away... classic me) but this one is ofc dedicated to u @delzinrowe here's the original brainrot ___

Normally, (y/n) and Megumi made a strong pair on assignments. Having worked and trained together since high school and having known each other a bit longer than that, they shared a deep understanding on how the other fights, and normally this gave them a hefty advantage. Having two capable sorcerers that could read each other like the backs of their hands was a threat to any curse. Normally.

Or in other words, as long as one of them didn’t completely abandon their plan and start improvising halfway through a fight, they were the perfect pair.

If he gave her some benefit of the doubt, Megumi could admit that (y/n) disregarding her weapon and opting to use the sheer power behind her cursed technique actually meant exorcizing the curse quicker than planned.

However, now she’s staggering on her feet, her blade retrieved and dangling loosely in her weak grip as she slowly makes her way over to him, grimacing at the heap of dead curse she had to sidle past. There’s a lazy but proud grin that takes over her features as she assesses the damage, realizing her workload for filing this one would be far less than previously expected, seeing how quickly she’d handled it.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Megumi scolds her as soon as she’s in close enough proximity to hear him.

He’s pissed. His arms are crossed, his face is twisted into a scowl, and when he pauses after his question (y/n) thinks he might actually be looking for an answer.

“Pretty quickly, I’d say” She scoffs back at him, not taking his irritation seriously for a second.

She’d say Megumi was a friend of hers, given how long they’d known each other, but she couldn’t say he ever eased up around her. He seemed to always be wound so tight that he didn’t even relax when they weren’t exorcizing curses. Over time she’d grown used to his reserved demeanor, and she didn’t mind it, so long as they were still the perfect duo on assignments, she could put up with anything.

Except his attitude. It rarely made an appearance when she was around- not nearly as much when he was paired up with Yuji- but on the off chance that Megumi got cranky, as she called it, it never rubbed her the right way, and it never went over well.

And currently, Megumi’s attitude and irritation knew no bounds.

“That was reckless and risky and you know it,” He chastised, only bristling further when (y/n) rolled her eyes back at him. “You need to take this more seriously, you can’t just go dropping your weapon in the middle of-”

“It was fine, wasn’t it?” She huffed out, already bored of the conversation. “It’s done, we’re not scuffed up all that bad, and honestly, you should be thanking me”

“Thanking you?” Megumi seethes the words back at her, and the way the corner of his snarl twitches does not go unnoticed by her.

“Mhm, you’re welcome,” She muses back at him, knowing that her little smirk was going to absolutely set him over the edge. “I’ve pretty much scored us a half day-”

“You pretty much just ignored me completely and could’ve gotten us both hurt…” He trails off, his features softening from their contorted angry expression for just a moment as something else washes over him. Something that makes his face pale and his lips curl into such a deep set frown (y/n) thinks it could form permanent wrinkles if he held it any longer. “... or worse” He finishes, a bit quieter than before.

“But we didn’t,” (y/n) shrugs back at him, and his annoyance creeps right back into it’s home under his skin.

Why couldn’t she take anything seriously, ever?

“We’re fine, it’s done, and we’re heading home. Why are you holding onto this?”

He gapes back at her, pausing long enough to give her a chance to take back her idiotic statement and actually take some responsibility for her actions, but she doesn’t. All she does is look back at him with something akin to disinterest in her eyes. It makes his nostrils flare.

“You’re ridiculous,” He huffs, eyes screwing shut with his annoyance. “Seriously, (y/n), one day your lack of critical thinking skills is going to put me in an early grave”

“Early? But you’re such an old man already,” She teases back, knowing full well she was poking a sleeping bear. “C’mon, I’ll treat you to lunch on the way back, better?”

“You can’t be serious for even a second can you?”

“Why would I?”

“Oh, I don’t know, self preservation?” He snaps back at her, stepping closer so she could get a proper look at the glare in his eyes.

“My job is self preservation,” (y/n) rolls her eyes again with the dismissive comment. “Maybe if you loosened up once in a while you wouldn’t be so cranky all the time”

“So I’m cranky for wanting us to make it out of an assignment with our heads?”

“Looks to me like we still get ‘em” She shrugs.

“That’s it. I’m not taking another assignment with you until you understand why acting on reckless abandon is stupid and going to get you killed one day,” He spits back at her, and for a second, her brows raise, and she actually looks shocked by his words. “Does that make me the bad guy, (y/n)?” Megumi hoped he was finally getting through to her, he was so close to her now that when his eyes bore into hers she could hardly see anything but angry blue oceans crashing behind them.

With another roll of her eyes and a short giggle right in her face she scrunches up her nose and gives him the greatest, wittiest line she could come up with to diffuse the rising tension.

“Ooh, ‘gumi you just want to kiss me”

What she doesn’t expect is that with all of his anger and frustration brewing, Megumi had been pushed past a brink she’d never seen him reach before.

“And what about it?” He snaps, brows furrowed with his anger, mouth still pulled into a frown. (y/n’s) eyes widen at the response

So in a moment of pure vexation and poor decision making skills, Megumi’s shifting gears and muttering, “Fuck it”

Next thing she knows his hands have seized her cheeks and they’re soft and warm but so firm as he yanks her forward while dipping his head to her height. Is he going to kiss me? Is the first stupid thought that runs through her muddled mind before his lips are slamming against hers.

Her eyes are as wide as saucers before she truly registers how soft and warm and pleasant his lips feel against hers, and she finds herself giving into the whirlwind moment sooner than expected. Her lashes flutter before falling shut, and it seems that she’s just as soon floating ten feet in the air, lifted by an invisible force. One foot pops into the air, the other extending on to the tips of her toes to better reach him, sending her hands against his chest.

He rendered her breathless in the matter of instant, which she blamed on both the surprise and the passion behind his kiss. She can vaguely make out the feeling of his hands moving from her jaw into her hair, but just as his fingertips graze the nape of her neck and she hums in delight.

That little noise was her downfall, because as soon as the sweet sound hits Megumi’s ears, he’s pulled out of his reverie and instantly pulls away from the kiss.

(y/n) has to gasp for air once they’re parted, but it takes her a minute to gather her senses and open her eyes.

Megumi’s frozen, his hands still cupped around the back of her head, his lips parted but no words or air was coming out. All he can do is stare at her with the shock of what he’d done sinking in.

No words are exchanged.

She stares at him expectantly, waiting for something, anything, but it doesn’t come. Megumi releases her before putting as large of a step of distance between. If he won’t say anything, she knows she has to… but all she can do is gape as he takes another step away and quickly pulls out his phone to check on their ride back to Jujutsu Tech.

It stays silent as they wait for their car.

Even their exchange with their assigned manager is uncomfortable.

With Megumi still choosing the silent route, she’s left no other choice.

She pulls her phone out of her pocket and rapidly begins to type.

[y/n]: S.O.S EMERGENCY !!!!!!

[yuwuji]: OMG DID U DIE ON UR MISSION D:

[y/n]: NO WORSE [y/n]: MEGUMI KISSED ME

[nocapybara]: W H A T

[yuwuji]: oh shit :D

[nocapybara]: what happened [nocapybara]: did you kiss back

[yuwuji]: was it good???

The incoming texts from her go-to groupchat for panic spamming shot up so fast she’s barely finished reading one before another appears on her screen. At least it was serving the purpose of keeping her distracted in the tense car ride.

[y/n]: he got mad at me

[yuwuji]: aww again??? :(

[y/n]: and then i said ‘you wanna kiss me so bad’ and he was all ‘so what?’ abt it and then he just…. fuckin kissed me

[nocapybara]: oh shit he actually made a move????

[yuwuji]: damn that’s actually such a good line

[nocapybara]: no it’s not, megumi’s just dumb [nocapybara]: and u didn’t answer my question (y/n/n)!!

[yuwuji]: or mine! >:3

[y/n]: i might’ve kissed back a little… [y/n]: and it might’ve been…. the best kiss of my whole life

[nocapybara]: how much is a little??

[yuwuji]: aww megumi is a good kisser <3 good 4 him

[y/n]: uhh my foot might’ve popped up like in the movies

[nocapybara]: oh shiiiiiit so it was a KISS kiss

[y/n]: yeah. it was a kiss kiss.

[yuwuji]: and u kissed back?? are u guys boyfriend girlfriend now??

[y/n]: he didn’t say anything after

[nocapybara]: WUT???

[yuwuji]: HEH???

[y/n]: I KNOW THATS WHY IM FREAKING OUT U GUYS ITS SO AWKWARD WTF DO I DO HE DIDNT SAY ANYTHING AND NOW IM STUCK IN THIS CAR WITH HIM HELP MEEEE

[nocapybara]: HES A COWARD !!!

[yuwuji]: did you say anything??

[y/n]: no!! what am i supposed to say??? he kissed me his first!! this is HIS FAULT!!!

[nocapybara]: damn right!!

[yuwuji]: no!! :( [yuwuji]: maybe he’s just shy and doesn’t know what to say

[nocapybara]: sthu he’s an adult, he can voice is widdle feelings >:/

[y/n]: i don’t think he has feelings for me. I think it was a mistake. [y/n]: idk what’s worse tbh

[yuwuji]: … r u sure ?

[noapybara]: what do you know.

[yuwuji]: no nothing i just meant he’s shy and awkward

[y/n]: VERY AWKWARD YEAH I GOT THAT

[nocapybara]: yuji ur his best friend. u definitely know something. spill. does he have the hots for (y/n/n) or not

[yuwuji]: hey i don’t spill secrets!!!!

[nocapybara]: SO THERE ARE SECRETS TO SPILL THEN????

With every new message, (y/n) felt her heart pounding in her chest a little harder. She hoped the radio was loud enough to drown out the sound of it. They were still a couple of minutes away from Jujutsu Tech, and she needed a solution by the time they got there. She had a feeling that if she didn’t come up with a plan and fast, then Megumi would continue to ignore her, and it would never be brought up again.

[yuwuji]: well… i guess it’s not a secret that he talks about her a lot…

It was easy to mistake Megumi’s silence for disinterest- and at first, he would say that he was ignoring the entire thing. He didn’t have an ounce of desire to bring it up in front of present company, but after a few minutes of riding in silence, he thought maybe ignoring it forever was his best option. It was just an accident, people caught up in the moment all the time, right? What was one little… perfect… kiss anyways?

Suddenly watching all the trees passing by the window made his stomach twist with nausea, and Megumi had to redirect his gaze to the back of the headrest in front of him.

It wasn’t right of him to kiss her, if he really thought about it. He’d never even confessed to her- and to just kiss her like that? Megumi could barely recognize himself. He was never so brazen, he was always the reserved, calculated one. He was the one that thought things through before making a final decision, he was never brash, never bold, and he would never make a move on someone without telling them properly how he felt…

His stomach lurched again. Was he getting carsick?

He’d never really considered telling (y/n) about his feelings for her before. Sure, he’d known for a while that she wasn’t like the others, she was different, special, held in a different, more secluded place in his heart away from all the others. If he was being honest with himself, he’d probably felt that way since high school. The problem was Megumi was always realistic when evaluating his options, so when his feelings for her were fully realized, he’d weighed his options and decided that the potential of losing a friend and a phenomenal partner over a confession would be pathetic.

So he packed his feelings up in a box and left it in the back of his mind. And that box would just have to stay there.

The ping of his phone drew him out of his spiraling, stomachache-inducing thoughts.

[itadori]: yo u kissed (y/n)?? hell yeah!!!

It felt like his heart imploded, and all of the air in his lungs was sucked out before he could try to gasp to preserve it. His eyes nearly bore a hole through the screen of his phone before his head shot up, peeking at the front seat where (y/n) sat, typing away on her phone. He couldn’t see who she was texting, but he didn’t need to, because the recipient of her texts just told on himself.

Now he was sure he was going to be sick. He made a mental note to pack anti-nausea for the car rides after assignments.

When they finally got back to Jujutsu Tech, (y/n) was swift in her exit of the car and stride towards the building. She not only didn’t utter a word to him, but she didn’t cast him a second glance. Her eyes were glued to her phone and her walking pace was, well, she was nearly jogging away.

He could just let her walk away, accept that the both of them would mutually forget about the whole thing.

“(y/n)!” Megumi had to call after her as he broke into a light jog in order to catch up. She glanced over her shoulder, and her speed walking slowed to a normal pace as he caught up to her.

She’s quick to lock her phone and tuck it back into her pocket.

Megumi lets out a sigh as he gives in to instinct.

“Look, I didn’t mean to do that, and I’m sorry, alright?”

She stops in her tracks then, effectively halting him too, but it doesn’t seem like it’s because she’s suddenly inclined to focus all of her attention on conversing with him.

“Are you trying to say you kissed me by accident?” She frowns.

“Well, I guess-”

“Because that’s not a thing,” She interrupts him. “You kissed me, consciously, and, like, for a good minute-”

“But I didn’t mean to, you practically dared me!” Megumi argued, only making her scoff and let out a laugh, humored by his ridiculous argument.

“Who cares? You kissed me!” She reminds him with a tilt of her head. “Are you saying if I challenged you to jump off a bridge would you do that too?”

“Well maybe the bridge isn’t that tall” Megumi refuted, before frowning and rolling his eyes at how stupid he sounded. There was no taking that one back, (y/n) was already laughing.

“Just admit it, Megumi. Some part of you wanted to kiss me, so you did”

“Not until you admit that you asked me to, technically”

“Fine! I did ask you to! Happy?”

“Delighted, because I wanted to!”

“Well if you’ve wanted to so bad then why are you yelling at me and not kissing me!?”

“I don’t know!”

With a simultaneous groan of frustration, the pair don’t waste anymore time arguing before acting. She all but throws herself against him but Megumi’s just as swift at wrapping his arms around her waist to hold her off her feet and at a height that gives him easy reach to slam his lips against hers. Every once of passion he’d poured into their last kiss is revisited in full with this one too, and (y/n) starts to get the idea that every kiss is going to sweep her off her feet all the same.

With her arms wound around his neck to better keep herself secure, she hopes that he feels every bit of electricity that she does.

And he does, he’s just a bit too preoccupied trying to balance taking in oxygen and kissing her like his life depended on it to communicate that to her now. At least in words. Wandering hands filled in the gaps for now.

It took them long enough, after all, there would be time to talk about it later. ___

a/n: i imagine the groupchat lights tf up after the second one :3

xoxo ~ jordie

#fushiguro megumi #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi imagine #megumi imagine #megumi fushiguro imagine #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year

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Netflix wants to chop down your family tree

Netflix has unveiled the details of its new anti-password-sharing policy, detailing a suite of complex gymnastics that customers will be expected to undergo if their living arrangements trigger Netflix’s automated enforcement mechanisms:

https://thestreamable.com/news/confirmed-netflix-unveils-first-details-of-new-anti-password-sharing-measures

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/02/nonbinary-families/#red-envelopes

Netflix says that its new policy allows members of the same “household” to share an account. This policy comes with an assumption: that there is a commonly understood, universal meaning of “household,” and that software can determine who is and is not a member of your household.

This is a very old corporate delusion in the world of technology. In the early 2000s, I spent years trying to bring some balance to an effort at DVB, whose digital television standards are used in most of the world (but not the USA) when they rolled out CPCM, a DRM system that was supposed to limit video-sharing to a single household.

Their term of art for this was the “authorized domain”: a software-defined family unit whose borders were privately negotiated by corporate executives from media companies, broadcasters, tech and consumer electronics companies in closed-door sessions all around the world, with no public minutes or proceedings.

https://onezero.medium.com/the-internet-heist-part-iii-8561f6d5a4dc

These guys (they were nearly all guys) were proud of how much “flexibility” they’d built into their definition of “household.” For example, if you owned a houseboat, or a luxury car with seatback displays, or a summer villa in another country, the Authorized Domain would be able to figure out how to get the video onto all those screens.

But what about other kinds of families? I suggested that one of our test cases should be a family based in Manila: where the dad travels to remote provinces to do agricultural labor; the daughter is a nanny in California; and the son is doing construction work in the UAE. This suggestion was roundly rejected as an “edge case.”

Of course, this isn’t an edge case. There are orders of magnitude more people whose family looks like this than there are people whose family owns a villa in another country. Owning a houseboat or a luxury car makes you an outlier. Having an itinerant agricultural breadwinner in your family does not.

But everyone who is in the room when a cartel draws up a standard definition of what constitutes a household is almost certainly drawn from a pool that is more likely to have a summer villa than a child doing domestic work or construction labor half a world away. These weirdos, so dissimilar from the global majority, get to define the boxes that computers will shove the rest of the world into. If your family doesn’t look like their family, that’s tough: “Computer says no.”

One day at a CPCM meeting, we got to talking about the problem of “content laundering” and how the way to prevent it would be to put limits on how often someone could leave a household and join another one. No one, they argued, would ever have to change households every week.

I put my hand up and said, “What about a child whose divorced parents share custody of her? She’s absolutely going to change households every week.” They thought about it for a moment, then the rep from a giant IT company that had recently been convicted of criminal antitrust violations said, “Oh, we can solve that: we’ll give her a toll-free number to call when she gets locked out of her account.”

That was the solution they went with. If you are a child coping with the dissolution of your parents’ marriage, you will have the obligation to call up a media company every month — or more often — and explain that Mummy and Daddy don’t love each other any more, but can I please have my TV back?

I never forgot that day. I even wrote a science fiction story about it called (what else?) “Authorized Domain”:

https://craphound.com/news/2011/10/31/authorised-domain/

I think everyone understood that this was an absurd “solution,” but they had already decided that they were going to complete the seemingly straightforward business of defining a category like “household” using software, and once that train left the station, nothing was going to stop it.

This is a recurring form of techno-hubris: the idea that baseline concepts like “family” have crisp definitions and that any exceptions are outliers that would never swallow the rule. It’s such a common misstep that there’s a whole enre* called “Falsehoods Programmers Believe About ______”:

https://github.com/kdeldycke/awesome-falsehood

In that list: names, time, currency, birthdays, timezones, email addresses, national borders, nations, biometrics, gender, language, alphabets, phone numbers, addresses, systems of measurement, and, of course, families. These categories are touchstones in our everyday life, and we think we know what they mean — but then we try to define them, and the list of exceptions spirals out into a hairy, fractal infinity.

Historically, these fuzzy categorical edges didn’t matter so much, because they were usually interpreted by humans using common sense. My grandfather was born “Avrom Doctorovitch” (or at least, that’s one way to transliterate his name, which was spelled in a different alphabet, but which was also transliterating his first name from yet another alphabet). When he came to Canada as a refugee, his surname was anglicized to “Doctorow.” Other cousins are “Doctorov,” “Doctoroff,” and “Doktorovitch.”

Naturally, his first name could have been “Abraham” or “Abe,” but his first employer (a fellow Eastern European emigre) decided that was too ethnic and in sincere effort to help him fit in, he called my grandfather “Bill.” When my grandfather attained citizenship, his papers read “Abraham William Doctorow.” He went by “Abe,” “Billy,” “Bill,” “William,” “Abraham” and “Avrom.”

Practically, it didn’t matter that variations on all of these appeared on various forms of ID, contracts, and paperwork. His reparations check from the German government had a different variation from the name on the papers he used to open his bank account, but the bank still let him deposit it.

All of my relatives from his generation have more than one name. Another grandfather of mine was born “Aleksander,” and called “Sasha” by friends, but had his name changed to “Seymour” when he got to Canada. His ID was also a mismatched grab-bag of variations on that theme.

None of this mattered to him, either. Airlines would sell him tickets and border guards would stamp his passport and rental agencies would let him drive away in cars despite the minor variations on all his ID.

But after 9/11, all that changed, for everyone who had blithely trundled along with semi-matching names across their official papers and database entries. Suddenly, it was “computer says no” everywhere you turned, unless everything matched perfectly. There was a global rush for legal name-changes after 9/11 — not because people changed their names, but because people needed to perform the bureaucratic ritual necessary to have the name they’d used all along be recognized in these new, brittle, ambiguity-incinerating machines.

For important categories, ambiguity is a feature, not a bug. The fact that you can write anything on an envelope (including a direction to deliver the letter to the granny flat over the garage, not the front door) means that we don’t have to define “address” — we can leave it usefully hairy around the edges.

Once the database schema is formalized, then “address” gets defined too — the number of lines it can have, the number of characters each line can have, the kinds of characters and even words (woe betide anyone who lives in Scunthorpe).

If you have a “real” address, a “real” name, a “real” date of birth, all of this might seem distant to you. These “edge” cases — seasonal agricultural workers, refugees with randomly assigned “English” names — are very far from your experience.

That’s true — for now (but not forever). The “Shitty Technology Adoption Curve” describes the process by which abusive technologies work their way up the privilege gradient. Every bad technological idea is first rolled out on poor people, refugees, prisoners, kids, mental patients and other people who can’t push back.

Their bodies are used to sand the rough edges and sharp corners off the technology, to normalize it so that it can climb up through the social ranks, imposed on people with more and more power and influence. 20 years ago, if you ate your dinner under an always-on #CCTV, it was because you were in a supermax prison. Today, it’s because you bought a premium home surveillance system from Google, Amazon or Apple.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/29/impunity-corrodes/#arise-ye-prisoners

The Netflix anti-sharing tools are designed for rich people. If you travel for business and stay in the kind of hotel where the TV has its own Netflix client that you can plug your username and password into, Netflix will give you a seven-day temporary code to use.

But for the most hardcore road-warriors, Netflix has thin gruel. Unless you connect to your home wifi network every 31 days and stream a show, Netflix will lock out your devices. Once blocked, you have to “contact Netflix” (laughs in Big Tech customer service).

Why is Netflix putting the screws to its customers? It’s part of the enshittification cycle, where platform companies first allocate surpluses to their customers, luring them in and using them as bait for business customers. Once they turn up, the companies reallocate surpluses to businesses, lavishing them with low commissions and lots of revenue opportunities. And once they’re locked in, the company starts to claw back the surpluses for itself.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

Remember when Netflix was in the business of mailing red envelopes full of DVDs around the country? That was allocating surpluses to users. The movie companies hated this, viewed it as theft — a proposition that was at least as valid as Netflix’s complaints about password sharing, but every pirate wants to be an admiral, and when Netflix did it to the studios, that was “progress,” but when you do it to Netflix, that’s theft.

Then, once Netflix had users locked in and migrated to the web (and later, apps), it shifted surpluses to studios, paying fat licensing fees to stream their movies and connect them to a huge audience.

Finally, once the studios were locked in, Netflix started to harvest the surplus for its shareholders: raising prices, lowering streaming rates, knocking off other studios’ best performing shows with in-house clones, etc. Users’ surpluses are also on the menu: the password “sharing” that let you define a household according to your family’s own idiosyncratic contours is unilaterally abolished in a quest to punish feckless Gen Z kids for buying avocado toast instead of their own Netflix subscriptions.

Netflix was able to ignore the studios’ outraged howls when it built a business by nonconsenually distributing their products in red envelopes. But now that Netflix has come for your family, don’t even think about giving Netfix some of what it gave to the MPAA.

As a technical matter, it’s not really that hard to modify Netflix’s app so that every stream you pull seems to come from your house, no matter where you are. But doing so would require reverse-engineering Netflix’s app, and that would violate Section 1201 of the DMCA, the CFAA, and eleventy-seven other horrible laws. Netflix’s lawyers would nuke you until the rubble bounced.

When Netflix was getting started, it could freely interoperate with the DVDs that the studios had put on the market. It could repurpose those DVDs in ways that the studios strenuously objected to. In other words, Netfix used adversarial interoperability (AKA Competitive Compatibility or ComCom) to launch its business:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/adversarial-interoperability

Today, Netflix is on the vanguard of the war to abolish adversarial interop. They helped lead the charge to pervert W3C web-standards, creating a DRM video standard called EME that made it a crime to build a full-featured browser without getting permission from media companies and restricting its functionality to their specifications:

https://blog.samuelmaddock.com/posts/the-end-of-indie-web-browsers/

When they used adversarial interoperability to build a multi-billion-dollar global company using the movie studios’ products in ways the studios hated, that was progress. When you define “family” in ways that makes Netflix less money, that’s felony contempt of business model.

[Image ID: A Victorian family tree template populated by tintypes of old-timey people. In the foreground stands a menacing, chainsaw-wielding figure, his face obscured by a hoodie. The blade of the chainsaw is poised to chop down the family tree. A Netflix 'N' logo has been superimposed over the man's face.]

#pluralistic #enshittification #shitty technology adoption curve #cpcm #interoperabiltiy #comcom #adversarial interoperability #interop #netflix #family #ambiguity #digitizatio #nym wars #authorized domain #dvb #dvds #password sharing

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darknight3904 · 6 months

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Animals

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ᴡᴀɴᴛꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴘᴏꜱɪᴛɪᴠᴇʟʏ ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ɢᴇᴛꜱ ꜰᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ / ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴅɪᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴘᴀʀᴛ. ɪɴꜱᴛᴇᴀᴅ, ʜᴇ'ꜱ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴠᴇ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʜᴏᴡ ꜰᴀʀ ʜɪꜱ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛʀᴜʟʏ ɢᴏᴇꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴇʀ.

ᴇxᴘʟɪᴄɪᴛ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ ᴀʜᴇᴀᴅ 18+ ᴏɴʟʏ: ᴍᴀʟᴇ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴜʀʙᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴘ ɪɴ ᴠ ꜱᴇx, ᴄᴜɴɴɪʟɪɴɢᴜꜱ, ᴅᴇɢʀᴀᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx - ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴅᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪʀʟ- ꜱᴀ - ɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ

ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴍɪꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʀᴜʟʏ ᴇxᴘʟɪᴄɪᴛ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ ꜱᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ɢᴏ ᴇᴀꜱʏ ᴏɴ ᴍᴇ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ʟɪᴛᴇʀᴀʟʟʏ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 7ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ.

ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢꜱ ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟꜱ ʙʏ ᴍᴀʀᴏᴏɴ 5, ᴍᴇᴅᴅʟᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʙʏ ᴄʜᴀꜱᴇ ᴀᴛʟᴀɴᴛɪᴄ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʙʟᴀᴍᴇ ᴍᴇ ʙʏ ᴛᴀʏʟᴏʀ ꜱᴡɪꜰᴛ.

The last month and a half had been a whirlwind of emotions for Coriolanus. The 11th games had been a huge success. Not only had Capitol viewership skyrocketed but so did the districts, especially after huge viewing screens had been sent to the poorer districts. He was proud of what he and Gaul had been able to conjure up in her lab and he was proud of the warm reception it had gotten. Most of all though, he was proud of the new tech systems you had introduced and showed him. Sure, he had to deal with your flirting and pretty little shirts he wished he could rip off, but all of that had been worth the success of the 11th Hunger Games. Still, despite his feelings of success and accomplishment when people complimented him, something was missing, and he knew what it was.

You.

God, you were on his mind more than whatever shitty work he was supposed to be focusing on. During his waking hours, he found that you were dancing through his mind. It didn't help that you regularly came to the Department of War now to work. Your pretty hair and seductive outfits annoyed him to no end. Not to mention the fact that you were still with that fool, Aesop.

He'd like to imagine Aesop just disappearing one day to some unknown world and him taking the place of that ill-dressed fool. He wanted to be able to spin you around on the dance floor of all the gala's you attended with the plain featured man. He wanted to be able to be the only one to listen to the clicking of the pretty heels you wore. He wanted to be the only one for you.

Even now, at night, you haunted him. Of course, the soft thoughts of galas and pretty shoes had vanished now that he was tucked safely into his bed. He wanted you in the most sinful of way. Often, he'd entertain himself by fantasizing that you were truly there, pacing his hallway, and getting ready to open the door to his room and jump into bed with him. Coriolanus would spend his nights tangled in his sheets, pumping his cock and whining out your name, wishing you were there to help him finish. He could still hardly believe what had occurred at that restaurant weeks ago. What the hell was that? You had embarrassed him sure, but did you honestly think that was going to stop him from marking his claim on you? You were his, you always had been from the start.

Coriolanus wanted you in a way that was positively animalistic. His hand was rough against his cock tonight as his other hand ran over his chest, pulling at his nipples and pressing down at his stomach which wouldn't stop twitching whenever his fingers brushed his cock just right. What would you feel like under him? How pretty would you look when he held you down and slid himself inside you?It had been so long since you last warmed his bed that he could scarcely remember what you had felt like, sounded like, when he fucked you. Surely whatever his mind was conjuring up would be surpassed by the actual thing.

His legs kicked at the sheets that had wrapped around his legs as he spilled into his hand, a gasp of your name on his lips. He wished you were here with him. He wished you could be here so he could mark your pretty neck and chest up. God, he wanted to see tears spill from your eyes when he slid into your slick walls. He'd love to feel your nails bite into his back and mark him up, he wanted to wear your marks for all of Panem to see.

Maybe it was love, or perhaps just plain old obsession that was gripping at his mind. Either way, he knew that he'd have you, one way or another you were going to be his.

It was as he stood in the shower, cleaning off the filth that came with self-pleasure that the ideas came to him. Should he start with flattering you? Flowers each day or a nice dinner, one where you didn't yell at him so much. Or, maybe getting rid of Aesop was the best way to go about all this. Whenever Coriolanus saw the two of you, you were always so wrapped up in your "love" for the man. How would you ever realize that Coriolanus was the one for you if that ugly little leech was constantly blocking the view?

The view being him, of course. Who else would be worthy of your affection? Those other men you had and tried to play house with surely couldn't hold a candle to him. Coriolanus knew that he was the blueprint for a prospective partner. Now, all he did was to get you to see that in him again. He knew you would, eventually. All he had to do was play the game.

The first difference you noticed was actually thanks to Dr. Gaul. Despite her strange behaviors, she was highly observant.

"Mr. Snow is staring again." Dr. Gaul pointed out

"He's been staring for months. It doesn't bother me anymore." You sigh, annoyed that she was so invested in you and Coriolanus. Since when was she a romantic?

"I think this gaze will." She says her voice sending a chill through you. Why was this woman the scariest person in all of Panem?

You glance up from your work to meet Coriolanus' eyes from across the room. His eyes were, as usual, watching you. While they were normally that of a scorned puppy whose owner had stepped on its tail, Coriolanus' eyes now seemed hungry. Hungry for what exactly you weren't quite sure yet.

Dr. Gaul let out a delighted little giggle but moved away from your desk as you shot daggers back at the blonde man.

"You ought to take a photo, Coryo." You smiled

The lack of response from him was rather unnerving. It was as if he was studying you from his desk. Like he was committing the scene to memory.

Weeks passed and you begrudgingly ignored Coriolanus' gaze on you. Before you hadn't minded since he always looked at you with admiration and a saddened look of what could've been. Now, that look of determination and odd hunger was annoying you. Of course, you elected to ignore whatever he wanted until they started appearing.

Flowers.

Every day, a fresh bouquet of roses appeared on your desk. They'd be there, on your desk as soon as you entered Gaul's lab for the day. Where the hell did he get off on sending you flowers? Did he honestly think staring at you and sending pretty flowers from his Grandma'am's gardens was going to get you to forgive him? Did he not remember what he did? Cheating on you and then doing who knows what to poor Lucy Gray, and then denying it all? Coriolanus Snow was surely delusional if he thought you were going to take him back.

You scooped up the newest bunch from the pretty glass vase they sat in and tossed them into the little garbage can that sat next to your desk. A soft huff escaped your lips as you settled into your chair, Coriolanus' eyes were watching you again. Why did he even bother with the flowers if he watched you throw them away? The game had surely ended with the scene you put on at the restaurant months ago. So why was he still trying? What the hell was his ploy here? Whatever it was it was seriously beginning to get under your skin.

What really tipped you over the edge though happened on the first night of winter. It was the coldest day of the week and your day at work had been positively horrific. Dealing with Gaul's strange little quirks and the board meeting you had gotten stuck in for hours had been positively horrific. Not to mention Coriolanus had started planting red roses in your desk in addition to the normal daily bouquet.

To anyone else that might be romantic but it was driving you mad. The months of silence from him compounded with the roses was an insane combination. You wished he'd just open his mouth once and maybe say something rude so you could continue to ignore him and get rid of the feelings you felt whenever you unearthed another rose. Not to mention you hadn't been able to see Aesop in nearly two weeks since his birthday. It wasn't that you were ignoring him, your fatigue combined with his own responsibilities didn't make the best combination for a relationship.

You fell onto the couch, wishing that you didn't have to shower before going to bed. Your home was rather dark but something caught your eye. Down the hall, your bed, normally covered in a pretty blue bedspread your mother had picked for you when you moved looked odd.

Sure enough, something was wrong with it. Roses, hundreds of them sat, covering your bed so that the blue of the blanket below was gone entirely, covered in a sea of red. How the hell did he even get in here? You were on the 20th floor of the building so he couldn't have climbed in, right? Did you leave the door unlocked? Oh god was the door even locked when you came home? You couldn't remember as you checked the locks on your window in your room. Then, as you were moving to push all the damn roses off your bed something little caught your eye. A single paper swan sat on your dresser, nestled between your perfume bottles and hair brush. Beside it, a note was folded neatly almost as if he'd known you'd go to check your windows and find this swan and note.

I'll be at your picnic. Don't keep me waiting.

Coriolanus Snow had some nerve, attending a nonexistent picnic that he had missed nearly two years ago.

The wind felt like a million little knives as you walked towards the entrance of the park you had requested Coriolanus to meet you at so long ago. God you wished he could've asked to meet at a more practical location, it had started snowing on your drive over. Who in their right mind chooses to meet at a park when it's freezing outside? Oh right, he wasn't in his right mind. Perhaps he never was, after all what kind of a monster could kill their best friend?

You didn't want to admit it but Coriolanus was devastatingly handsome. He always had been, even during your days at the academy when he still had the soft curls you loved to pull on when he was in bed with you. Even now with his new hairstyle, he was captivating. Of course, good looks can only get you so far and you knew exactly what lurked behind that pretty face. A snake that charmed its prey before going in for the kill is what lurked behind those blue eyes that you had once loved to look into. But, recently, you had a hard time believing that he really was a monster. The roses and longing stares certainly didn't help either. Sometimes, in the dead of night, you found yourself wishing for him, for Coriolanus.

Sure enough, he was there, sitting at a picnic bench where you had once cried your eyes out because he never showed up, too busy with Lucy Gray. Your frozen feet sped up as he stood, ready to greet you, and hopefully explain how the hell he got into your home.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You say, shoving at his chest when he gets close to you

"I thought girls liked flowers? Red roses symbolize love you know." He says, barely stumbling back. Curse that Peacekeeper training he went through.

"Girls also like it when people, oh I don't know, decide not to break into their home after weeks of creepily staring at them!" You accuse, angrily.

Coriolanus had to swallow the smile that was itching to weave its way across his face. The weeks of silence, stares, and roses had frazzled you. The pressure he had put on you had torn down the woman who had embarrassed him in the restaurant months ago. Perhaps he could rebuild her, into a new one of course. He knew he could and he knew you were capable of being what he wanted. All it was going to take was a little effort.

"I originally was planning to simply leave them at your door, but when I got there it was unlocked. I thought It'd be romantic to leave them on your bed. Forgive me if I overstepped. I was sure the woman in charge of cameras and new technology for the Hunger Games would've had better sense and locked her doors in the mornings." He smiled.

Could you see that he was lying? Your door had been ridiculously easy to open. The lock was a joke, hopefully, whoever owned the building would replace the locks, after all, you don't want to have break-ins, someone dangerous might get in.

"Overstepped? Romantic? Coryo, I'm dating someone already! You need to accept that and stop with the gestures! Not to mention our past isn't exactly...well all roses!" You groan

Well, aren't you just adorable with your jokes?

"I don't see any issues with my actions. I'm just showing a pretty girl my feelings for her. It's not my fault she's still with some ugly pig." He says truthfully

He smiles when he sees your face flush slightly. Sure, it could've been the cold and the snow that was falling but something inside him said you enjoyed his compliment.

"See that's the problem with you! You never see anything wrong with your actions and just keep going as if you think you're right! And because of that, you're standing on a pile of bodies that is only growing larger. " You point, stepping back slightly as he steps towards you.

"I don't ever think I am right in my actions. I know I am. Every step I've ever taken has been the correct one. The same goes for you, by the way. You want to be so benevolent and hold Sejanus, Highbottom, and Lucy Gray against me." He steps forward and finally closes what little distance was left and hooks a finger under your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his, "The truth is, you also stand on a pile of bodies. Perhaps it is even larger than mine, how many people did your mother step on to build her name, the legacy that she gifted to you. "

You're shaken by his words, rightfully so, no one wants to be called out on the darkest corners of their souls. He knows that you can see he's right. Tears are welling in your eyes and he wipes at one that falls. You look beautiful enough to devour as your eyes flutter shut. His breath mingles with yours and he appreciates how the snow sticks in your hair, it almost makes you look angelic.

"Why're you crying?" He asked

"Stop it." You whimper, trying to pull away from him and his hands.

"Stop what? Comforting you or stop talking about what got you to where you are now?" He asks, grabbing at your upper arm to keep you close

"Both." You say, voice so quiet it might blow away with the snow that fell from the sky.

"Our hands are stained in blood. Blood from the pile of bodies we both stand on now. That pile is only going to grow each year, every games we organize is another 23 added, trampled under our shoes." He points out

"Coryo, stop it," You say, looking up at him "Let me go, I want to go home."

"What I'm trying to say is why add to that pile alone? I, of all people, know what it feels like. Stand by my side and you'll never have to feel it again." He says honestly. Perhaps you'd take his proposal now. You had been so angry at the restaurant, blinded by your rage.

"Feel what?" You ask

"Guilt," He says softly.

"Like you've ever felt guilt." You scoff, rolling your eyes

"Maybe I have, maybe I haven't. What I do know is you feel it. Don't think I didn't notice your face the moment the first few kids fell during the games a few weeks ago. I also remember your reaction when those snakes were released last year and they jumped on that poor little one first, what was her name again? Wove?" Coriolanus asked, knowing exactly how to worm his way into your heart

"Wovey." You say, "She was my tribute, I stupidly thought she might have a chance to win until Dr. Gaul released that cage."

Your bottom lip is trembling as you recount what your tribute had meant to you. Coriolanus couldn't remember her very well but you clearly did. He almost felt guilty for bringing it up again. Almost.

He reaches out and gently takes your face in his hands. Thanks to the incident in the restaurant, he knew anger would get him nowhere with you. So, instead of yelling at you and calling you stupid for caring for some District scum, he gently kisses you. A surprised little gasp escapes your lips but he swallows it down as the kiss deepens. He wants to melt into your arms when your hands card through his perfectly styled hair.

"Stop it!" You suddenly command, pushing him away from you

"What's wrong? You seemed to enjoy that." He cockily said

"I'm, I'm with Aesop. I love him, and you don't get to ruin that for me because you screwed us up years ago." You say, your voice cracking a bit.

You certainly don't seem confident in that statement. Did you even truly like Aesop or were you just using him?

"If you're going to declare your love for someone you ought to actually be certain of it before putting it into words." He says

"I know your game, Coryo. You aren't going to ruin me again." You say

He can't get another word out as you spin around and race back to your car. You sure were a hard thing to catch, but he knew it all would be worth it. After all, when hunting something, the chase was always the most exciting part.

You didn't see Coriolanus after your meeting in the park. You avoided Gaul's lab and just sent your assistant with messages to her instead. Forget trying to get under Coriolanus' skin with your flirting and clothes, he was driving you positively mad. His words had replayed in your mind hundreds of times in the past week.

That pile is only going to grow each year, every games we organize is another 23 added.

Sure, you had always known that but hearing it had sent a shiver down your spine in the most horrific way. Why had he said it when he knew that you felt guilt for it. He had to be after something, but what? Perhaps he just wanted you. But you remained faithful to Aesop. So what was he doing, still sending you flowers and little paper swans to accompany them?

"You know its already dead right?" Aesops question snapped you from your thoughts

You looked down at the poor piece of steak you had been aggressively cutting.

"Oh, right...I'm sorry there's just been a lot on my mind recently." You admit

"Tell me about it. We haven't gotten to talk in weeks." He smiles

"It's just work. Gaul is getting crazier every day. She asked me if I thought having a tail would be fun today." You sigh

"Well, what'd you say? Because I think it might be kind of cool." Aesop says

"I said it would be rather odd." You admit

"It might be. Can you imagine the draft on your ass if you ever wanted to wear pants?" He grinned

"Oh my god." You groan "You're actually a child."

Aesop smiles a pops a bite of his potatoes in his mouth.

"You love it."

It's true, you loved being with him. Even now as you lay in bed, covers up to your chin as he washed off the sweat that came with sex. You loved almost everything about Aesop. His humor was perfect and his cooking was simply divine. Not to mention he was simply a perfect gentleman. Although, nights like this had you wishing for something a bit more exciting. Honestly, you sometimes wished for someone not so agreeable, someone who'd banter with you over something ridiculous. Beyond that though, you missed the feeling of a true orgasm. Aesop was lovely in bed but he wasn't quite so knowledgeable about the female form when it came down to it. You had chalked it up to him always making foreplay just a bit too short.

When even was your last orgasm with another person? Perhaps one of those flings you had before you met Aesop? Or maybe...oh no surely it couldn't have been the last time you slept with Coriolanus. That was years ago! You had to have had one with another partner. Perhaps that fellow who had dyed his hair green and had been so tall you could've asked him to change a lightbulb without a ladder. Or maybe that time Aesop had gone down on you? No that wasn't it....

"What's on your mind?"

"Nothing...come to bed." You smile as he emerges from the bathroom, admiring his naked chest.

"Let me get dressed first," Aesop says as you reach for him

"Ugh, fine." You laugh, despite his shortcomings, he truly was the perfect one for you.

Coriolanus had finally decided exactly how he was going to free you from that monkey's grasp. Aesop, bless his thoughtful soul was in medical school at the university. Coriolanus had dug deeper into the university files and found that Aesop was the son of some rich man who ran huge lumber plants out in District 7. This meant that Coriolanus' favored method of poison would probably be too harsh for the situation. Not to mention you'd surely know who did away with your paramore. No, this particular murder was going to take a bit of cunning moves, moves Coriolanus was sure he'd be able to pull off,.

Amidst this digging, he also found out that not only was he two full years older than you but he was also amid his residency at a doctor's office closest to the school. Aesop was certainly making it a bit too easy for Coriolanus to get rid of him once and for all. So, now, here he sat, a middle-aged Capitol woman, the wife of some lofty untouchable politician in front of him.

"And then what are you going to say to the board at the school?" He asked, hoping it had finally gotten through her thick skull.

"I say that he harassed my son when I went to the bathroom. And my boy was too scared to say anything about it until now." She said

"Who is he? The board won't know what to do if you don't give names. And you need to give more details or it won't be believable." He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Did this woman have nothing but air between her ears? How hard was it to get a fake story right? Coriolanus wished there had been a better option for this but she was the only one rich enough that the school board would have no choice but to act.

"R-Right. He-The student Aesop. When my son and I were at the office he works in last week, I left to go to the bathroom and when I came back into the room, he was harassing my son." She says

Who the hell was teaching these people? Honestly, someone who is so incompetent should just go live in the Districts. Let another person more deserving take their place in society.

"What kind of harassment?!" He yelled, slamming his hands so hard on the desk she flinched across from him. "Sorry...you just, you need to be crystal clear with what kind of harassment or he will never get put away. You want revenge on this Aesop's family, right? His daddy left you for another woman years ago right?"

The woman nods, still a bit scared from him losing his cool.

"Okay, well I want this Aesop put away for good. So you and I have a bit of common ground here. But it won't work if you aren't perfect when you go to the board." He smiles

The woman is as predictable as any other Capitol citizen and is easily charmed by his warm demeanor.

"Now, let's try it again." He says, reaching across the desk to take her hand in his, "And this time I want you to be perfect, understand?"

Coriolanus isn't sure what to make of the blush that warms this woman's face. Of course, he should've seen it coming since she had been practically drooling over him ever since he summoned her to his office. Guess it was good to know his charm was still intact despite you rejecting him so many times.

"I went to the doctor's office with my son last week. While we were there I had to use the restroom, so I left my boy in the examination room and expected him to be safe there." She starts

"Good," He praises, "Now continue"

"When I returned to the room, the medical student I had seen with the doctor earlier was harassing my boy. He was too scared to tell me what truly had happened though until last night which is why I'm coming to you now." She finishes

"Wonderful. Now they'll ask you what manner of harassment this was, you know. And what exactly are you going to say?" He says, releasing her clammy hand from his.

"The sexual kind, right, Mr. Snow?"

Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Aesop would be gone from your life before the week was over and Coriolanus would be there to pick up the pieces that were left behind.

Your call comes right after Coriolanus has finished his dinner.

"Coryo!"

Your voice sounds desperate through the phone. Perhaps you had been crying because you sounded a bit choked up as well.

"Yes?" He asks, hoping it doesn't sound like he's smiling on you r end.

"They took him! They just came into my home and snatched him right off my couch! I tried to stop them but they took him outside and into this huge truck! I called my mother but she said she can't do anything! Please you have to do something!"

You're so frantic he actually feels bad for a second.

"Slow down. Who took who?" He asked, playing his part

"Aesop! A bunch of Peacekeepers just barged into my home and took him right off the couch. They just said he had been charged with some crime by some fancy politician! Please Coryo don't you have connections to get him out?" You wail

He doesn't. Even if he did he'd never use them on a fool like Aesop. But he doesn't.

"I'm going to come over. Just stay put." He says before placing the phone back on the hook.

How perfectly everything falls into place when you grease the right palms.

You're a little ball of tears, snot, and anxiety when he finally gets to your cute little apartment. He had let himself inside, the door had been unlocked for real this time.

"Coryo!" You cry, jumping into his arms

He wasn't expecting you to be so willing to hug him but he accepts it anyway. You feel so perfect in his arms, even if your tears are staining his dress shirt.

"Stop the tears." He gently commands when he feels the dampness hit his skin.

You let out an ugly sniff before letting go and gesturing for him to sit on the couch with you.

"So tell me exactly what happened." He says, making sure to scoot closer to you

You recount exactly how your evening has gone and he pretends to really take it all in. While your pretty voice fills his ears, he can't help how his mind begins to fantasize. Your tears are still falling slightly and he finds himself wishing he was the cause of them. Not out of pain of course, pleasure obviously. His eyes wandered over your frame as he took in your attire for the evening. You were in a simple dark blue pullover. It looked decently soft and comfortable as he gulped at the sight of your exposed legs. Where were your pants? Had you hugged him without pants on? You must've since he didn't see you remove anything since he entered. Your pretty hair is messily pulled out of your eyes as you say something about how scared Aesop had looked when he was hauled off.

Your exposed skin was making it even harder to focus on the words falling from your lips as his mind raced. Were you playing some game here? He'd love to find out by bending you over this damn couch and fucking you silly. Finally, there was nothing between the two of you, Aesop had gone to meet his fate and you were clearly interested in what he had to offer. That outfit was making your interest abundantly clear. Your legs shifted suddenly and He's sure he sees the lacy glimpse of lingeine. Is that why you were so upset? Were to planning on seducing Aesop and now he's left you high and dry? Poor, pretty girl. Not to worry though, he'd gladly take Aesop's place. He felt his pants tighten as he imagined you on your knees in front of him, taking his cock into your pretty mouth. Whatever lacy little number you were wearing under that damn shirt he'd tear off and make sure your body was covered in him before the night was over.

"Is there anything you can do for him?"

Shit. Thats right. He was only here because you thought he could spring Aesop from whatever fate awaited him.

"I'm afraid even I do not have connections that go that high yet." He says, trying his best to sound regretful

"Do you think Dr. Gaul does? I can call her now." You suggest, hopefully.

It's pathetic how desperate you are right now. Why can't you just let him go?

"She may, but do you even know what crime he committed? What if it's something awful? Then, wouldn't it be better that he was locked up?" He asks

"I'm sure it's not. They probably have the wrong person. His father is incredibly wealthy you know." You say, sniffling slightly

He does know.

"No, I didn't. In that case, perhaps he'll be fine then. Money goes a long way here, you know that." He smiles, gently taking your hand in his

"You're right...perhaps I'm being hasty." You sigh

"Perhaps." He agrees before gently pressing a kiss to your forehead.

He smiles when you lean into his side, resting your head on his shoulder.

You're happy he's here by your side. If not for Coriolanus' presence you'd probably be slipping into madness and dialing up Dr. Gaul and god only knows what she was doing at this hour.

"Thanks for coming over, Coryo. I'm sorry I went crazy on you at the park that night." You apologize, truly feeling guilty for how you acted.

"Is that the only thing you're sorry for?" He quips

You know what he's referring to. The restaurant incident must've hurt him badly. You actually feel a bit guilty as you squirm under his gaze.

"I'm sorry for the restaurant thing too." You say, your voice just barely above a whisper

You hear him let out a little amused laugh.

"It's alright, pretty girl. I know you were just upset since you thought I cheated on you with Lucy Gray." He says

You nod in agreement, your mind feels like it's stuffed with cotton as Coriolanus' big hand begins to rub circles on your exposed skin. His hand drifts slowly up, up up, and brushes at the lace that covers your core.

"Coryo..." You gasp when his finger presses at your clit through the fabric

"Mmm, what is it?" He mumbles, his attention elsewhere as slips a finger behind the fabric and into your soaked folds.

You feel Coriolanus let out a laugh of delight when a desperate gasp leaves your lips.

"Someone's desperate. You're soaked." He teases, his lips gently sucking at your neck.

You knew the cause of your desperation, stress from work, and the lack of orgasms was taking a toll on you. The original plan for the evening had been to don sexy undergarments and then pull Aesop into bed with you. But now...Coriolanus was here, warm, pressed against your skin and toying with you just right, and for the first time in over a year, you actually feel an orgasm building up.

"Stop." You command, finally finding your voice among your newfound pleasure.

The warm hand drags itself from between your thighs, regrettably and Coriolanus looks at you like you've stolen his favorite dessert right off his plate.

"What is it? Did I hurt you?" He asks, pressing a kiss to your shoulder which had become exposed when your shirt was pushed slightly off. When had he done that?

"I-I'm with Aesop, remember." You shakily say

"You don't sound so sure about that." He smirks

You roll your eyes and are about to scold him instead are met with him actually cooperating when he stands up to leave.

"I'll see you tomorrow." He says before walking out and closing the door behind him.

The next few months were hard. Hard on you but also hard on Coriolanus. Aesop ended up being defamed on national television just days after Coriolanus had finally gotten the first taste of you in years. He had been essentially verbally ripped apart by the president and the father of the boy he had allegedly "assaulted". Then, he was physically ripped apart by some of the largest dogs Coriolanus had ever seen. It had been quite the spectacle and something inside him said that Gaul was behind the dogs that devoured your boyfriend on national television. You were a messy little thing after that. A depressed, messy thing. Coriolanus spent many days after that at your bedside trying to coax you into the shower or at least into a bath. It was when he was trying to force food down your throat that he truly felt bad for his actions. He had underestimated your love for Aesop. Of course, how was he supposed to know that they were going turn him into a living spectacle and let him be eaten by mutts?

But what came after was worth every bit of work and spilled food on your mattress. Aesop's overly graphic death had left you a shell of who you were before and now you clung to Coriolanus like he was going to disappear from your hold. Even now as you were in his bed, you wanted him as close as possible. You were nestled into his side as you both read your own books. Coriolanus' was something about the histories of Panem and yours a work of fiction. Normally, it held his attention perfectly but you were distracting. The way your tongue would jut out and lick at your lips every few minutes was driving him insane, not to mention the fact that you were dressed in his clothes in his bed.

"Coryo," Your sweet voice sounded "What's wrong? You're staring at me pretty hard."

"Nothing...just thinking how positively delicious you look in my shirt, in my bed, smelling of me." He smiled

You let our an embarrassed groan and try to shove him away from you.

"You're such a pervert." You laugh

It's true, he's a pervert. A pervert just for you. You had been driving him insane ever since you had begun to cling to him like a lost puppy. Even now, his eyes were roaming to where the swell of your tits was trying to hide under his shirt. What a poor job it was doing, he'd love to rip it off you.

"What're you thinking about?" You ask

"I...am thinking about skipping my dinner and going right to dessert tonight." He smiles, sitting up and getting up to position himself at the end of the bed

"Coryo!" You smile and gasp when he grabs you by the ankles and pulls you towards where he waits at the foot of the bed.

He gently pulls at the skimpy panties you've put on for the day. Honestly, what were you thinking? That you'd be able to prance around his home dressed like this and not entice him at all? He tosses them to the floor before gently pushing your legs apart. His eyes meet yours, a silent request for permission to bury his head between your thighs.

"Go ahead. I know you want to." You laugh

It's all he needs before his lips begin to tease the soft flesh of your inner thighs. He watches carefully as your head tips back when his teeth brush along your folds.

"Fuck!" You gasp when he presses a warm kiss to your clit

It's his turn to gasp and groan though when his tongue finally meets your cunt and your hands fly to his hair and tug.

"So sweet. You're going to ruin me, pretty girl." He mumbles before going up to suck your sensitive little clit.

You're seeing stars dance behind your eyelids as he licks and lets his teeth gently nibble at your most sensitive bits. Your clit feels like its burning as he pulls it into his mouth and sucks, hard. What really does it though is when he lifts a hand off your thigh and presses two long fingers into your needy entrance.

"Coryo!" You gasp as your hips jump off the bed, trying to jump away from the onslaught of pleasure.

"Stay still." He warns, biting at your thigh

You let your fingers tug harshly at his hair as he continues his ministrations.

"C'mon, give it to me. I know you're close."

Coriolanus' deep voice, riddled with lust is all it takes for you to cry out and cum all over his pretty face. Your chest heaves for air as he lets you come down.

"Good job." He smiles, wiping the back of his hand along his face that glistens with you.

You smile a dopey smile as he gently runs his fingers along the mess he made between your legs. His hands drift upwards and tug at your shirt, clearly wanting to expose your chest to his gaze. You comply pull his t-shirt off and toss it off the bed.

"We're not done yet though." He says, pleased, before leaning over to whisper in your ear like it's some secret no one else can know, "Turn around, ass up."

You let him maneuver you into the position he likes best, a deep arch in your back, displaying what was between your legs perfectly. You feel his hands run along your back, undoubtedly admiring you from behind.

"What a pretty little thing you are." He compliments before sliding into you.

Coriolanus swears there's nothing more perfect in this world than your cunt. The way it tightens when he goes just the slightest bit too deep and the way it just gushes whenever he toys with your clit. He admires what you look like from behind as he drills into you. His hands run up your body and twist into your hair before meanly pulling up so your back is flush with his chest.

"You're too fucking perfect." He rasps into your ear, inhaling the scent of your sweat "You've got me fucking you from behind, like a damn animal. Do you enjoy it? Being treated like some slut? A bitch just made for me hmm?"

"More!" You gasp, "Please, Coryo!"

"She wants more." He laughs, he knows he's being mean when he slows down his hips and you cry out.

"No!" You cry as he pulls out

"Just wanna look at you when you cum." He explains as he gently pushes you down so your back hits the mattress

A desperate moan leaves both of your lips when he slides back in.

"Coryo!" You gasp as his fingers find your clit, he could feel his stomach clenching, a telltale sign he was ready to cum, but what kind of a man doesn't get his girl off first?

"Are you close?" He says, ignoring the way your nails dig into his back when his hips speed up

"Yes!" You exclaim, letting your nails rake down his skin.

He groans as he leans down to steal the messiest of kisses from you. Spit and teeth clash as he continues to rock into you. He grabs at your hand and brings it up to your bouncing chest.

"Give me a show and I'll let you cum." He whispers into your ear, knowing you'll listen

He has to harshly grasp at the sheets under you when your little hands toy with the the chest that has had him enamored since he was a teenager.

"Fuck!" He gasps before swooping down to suck marks into said chest.

"Close!" You cutely warn him

"Yeah? Go ahead, cum." He demands before moving his hand from your clit to press on your stomach

It's with that that he feels you constrict around him and he can finally pull out and let go all over your stomach. Sticky cum webs its way onto your pretty skin and he admires it before collapsing next to you.

Silence settles over the room as you both catch your breath. He smiles when he feels you press your still naked, sweat body against his side.

"Thank you, Coryo." You mumble, burying your face in his neck.

"For what?" He asks. You should know you don't have to thank him for sex, after all, he enjoyed it just as much as you did

"For staying with me."

Coriolanus smiles to himself as he reaches over to press a warm kiss to your forehead. You truly were the perfect one for him, no one else compares.

"You're all mine, darling. I'm not going anywhere."

This is the final part of the Blank Space series. Thank you for reading! If you want more I suggest checking out my other work It Burns For You. It is also a Coriolanus x Reader story.

This part was an absolute beast to write and If you want I'd love to read some comments on what you did or didn't like about it.

Also, I am starting a permanent Coriolanus taglist. This means anything Coryo-related I post you'll get tagged in. If you want to be added, please message me directly.

See you in the next story!

-darknight3904

Taglist:

@katherines-imagines @stelleduarte @edb954 @blueiones @juliesjar @snowtargaryen @dangelnleif

@mrstrangeglove @rey26 @jackchampionwhore @reidsslutywaist

@marecaltrashhh @scentedprofessorbailiffstudent

@mrstrangeglove @rey26

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erellenora · 1 month

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“You’re our kid, Omega” I’m crying I’m crying I’m crying I’m crying. They have lived old enough to see the rebellion!!! OMEGA JOINING THE REBELLION AS PILOT, TECH WOULD BE INSANELY PROUD OF HER. SHES SO GROWN UP, LOOK AT HER BANDANA TOO.

Also, OLDER HUNTER IS SO HOT OH MY GOD I CANT-

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lemonyboy97 · 3 months

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Heyyy I like your writing, and I was wondering if you could do like fluff/comfort of like Val, vox, and/or alastor with a reader who gets really socially anxious and shuts down when they get overwhelmed?

Wasnt sure what gender reader was so i did neutral, thank you so much for the ask! I havent gotten one in forever and i was fresh out of inspo ❤️❤️🫂 love you anon! (Also i threw in different relationship dynamics to spice things up and also because i cant imagine alastor being ANYONES 'boyfriend', that man would go from 'close friend and confidant' to 'fiancé')

Pop in and leave me a request on my new blog!

Fiancé!Vox, Boyfriend!Val, Husband!Alastor (seperate) x gn!anxious!reader

Warnings: brief mentions of sadism, anxious reader (obviously), not quite my definition of a panic attack but close to it

(Im going to do some loose headcannons about each of the boiz, then include a oneshot for each of them)

Fiancé!Vox

Headcannons:

I feel like Vox would be the best out of the 3 in this scenario, as he's the least sadistic. Vox is a very protective lover, he's also compassionate and doting (behind closed doors). If Vox notices you (its really a matter of when not if because this man WILL notice) becoming overwhelmed or overstimulated he is gently guiding you away from the crowd to check on you, 'Are you okay?', 'do you want to leave?', 'is there something specific bothering you?' are FAQs (frequently asked questions) His way of dealing with the issue is removing you from the situation altogether- taking you back home, wether thats to your shared apartment or the Vee's headquarters depends on whichevers closest.

Scenario:

You and your fiance, Vox, are at a release event for the newest VoxTech drop. Vox is proudly harping about the newest Tech he’s developed, an even prouder arm around your waist; how could he not be proud with his pretty little love on his arm? (He calls you his ‘pretty little thing’, ‘little love’ no matter your gender or size) He’s so absorbed in his success that at first he doesn't notice the subtle tremble in your hands, or the way you curl into him as if trying to hide, or maybe the way you flinch at the bright camera flashes. But when you let out a barely audible whine Vox immediately turns to you, all ears.

Vox suddenly realizes how overstimulating this all must be; the flashing cameras, the loud and frantic crowd, the music in the background, the shouting, the rowdy demons who are protesting- oh god how could he have been so negligent?

Vox is immediately passing the reins over to Velvette (much to her dismay), and gingerly leading you through the crowd, towards the back door.

“It’s alright, lovely, just through here… There we go…”

His words are gentle, and the hands on your shoulders to guide you are 10x more so. He leads you out the back and to the limo, and once you’re sequestered away inside he just waits- He knows when you’re ready for touch you’ll initiate. He knows that for now, just the knowledge that someone is aware and looking after you is enough to help de-escalate the situation.

“There you go, doll, breathe yeah? In…. Out…. In…. Out… good job, love, doing so well for me”

Boyfriend!Valentino

Headcannons:

Val is definietly more of a 'what do you mean?' Kind of guy, or 'just breathe?', you know? We know from his workers (ahem angeldust ahem) that he isnt the most... understanding with weaknesses and the like. So- while I feel like Val's approach is a bit more 'deal with it by not dealing with it' than Vox's, it is still heartfelt for his wonderful gf/bf/partner. Even if he wont directly address it, Valentino is the type to try and reassure you through touch, wether thats what you need or not, thats what he's got because this man KNOWS he is brash and he doesnt want to make things worse.

Scenario:

You had walked to Valentino's studio to bring him homemade lunch after he was complaining about his imps being 'inconcievably incompetent'. You are now awkwardly standing backstage, out of sight, as he directs a particularily.... raunchy... scene. You are visibly uncomfortable with screams and various sounds of... mixed sensations.. echoing around the set, along with flashing lights and dizzying scents. Altogether they make an array of overstimulating inputs, and after setting down said lunch on a side bench, a pretty note tucked into the lip of the basket, you stumble back outside, trying to catch your breath. Val follows you shortly after, he caught sight of you from across the set.

Valentino carefully sits beside you, pulling you into his side.

"You alright there, babycakes?"

You shakily nod, but Val sees right through you. He sighs and kisses your temple as he absentmindedly rubs your shoulders.

"Thought I warned you 'bout my work hours, baby"

You slowly explain that you just wanted to surprise him with lunch and he smiles, kissing the inside of your wrist.

"Damn, sugar, shoulda started with that, hm? Why don't I pop in and grab it- then we can share it out here while you get your head back on."

Husband!Alastor

Headcanon:

This man. This. MAN. It can go one of two ways depending on where your relationship is with him- but in this you are married so- he would be so attentive- like. You would barely be feeling the 'oh hey, this is a lot' feeling and Al would pick up on it and knight in shining armor you away from it. Alastor just KNOWS. He has like a sixth sense when it comes to you. He is so finitly attuned to every fibre of your being that you cant even hide it from him. He just KNOWS. Like- you're in cannibal town (because be real y'all go on dates there all the time and Rosie adores you) and the children are being rowdy but 'its alright, i can manage-' oh and there's Susan- 'yes susan, we are married- no, no susan you cant see my ring im a bit worried you might try to eat my finger- No, really i insist-' oop and here comes Alastor, scooping you up with a charming grin, Rosie on his heels. 'Come along now darling, our dinner is waiting'

Scenario:

You and Alastor are in the hotels lobby, greeting guests for a party Charlie is throwing to 'encourage the inhabitants', Alastors hand is protectively on the small of your back like always. The arriving demons are a bit rowdy but nothing too bad- the real issue is the howling, rambunctious laughter coming from the bar, poor karoke all but screamed into the low quality microphone (much to Husk's annoyance), flashing strobe lights arouns the room turning the guests pink, green, blue, pink, green, blue, pink, green, blue-

"Dear?"

Careful fingers snap in front of your face- effectively lurching you out of your spiraling thoughts. You swallow thickly and look up at your husband, shaky smile plastered on your lips.

'Yes, Al?'

He frowns as he gaze flits from one eye to the other, then, his mind seemingly made up, he summons his shadow, scoops you up, and shadow travels back to you twos shared room.

"Oh lovely, this certianly wont do"

He dotes on you, rubbing your tense shoulders, kissing the crown of your head, murmuring sweet nothings to your skin as he lays you down in your shared, king bed. And later, once you're half asleep and content in his arms, he lovingly murmurs,

"No more of Charlie's so-called 'parties' for you, my sweet"

A/n: Reblogs are always encouraged and appreciated! And yes i did like my own post. I am very proud of this, i wrote it in one day WHILE (legally) high on loopy pain medicine

#hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel x reader #valentino x reader #vox x reader #hazbin vox #hazbin valentino #val x reader #vox fluff #alastor hazbin #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor #alastor headcanons #alastor imagine #alastor x you #LemonyWrites

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reallyromealone · 1 month

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Title: fate

Fandom: jjk

Characters: Gojo, original character for plot purposes

Fic type: story

Pairings: Gojo x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, omegaverse, angst, soulmate, Gojo is a jerk, slow burn

Notes:

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

There was no space for weakness amongst sorcerer's, no space for mistakes and no space to be anything less than perfect.

He had always heard of his fiance, Gojo Satoru... The god amongst sorcerer's...

Though he never met the Alpha, the high and mighty sorcerer never bothered meeting the diamond of the (lastname) clan and did everything he wanted and everyone he wanted while (name) was expected to wait.

The only reason they were fiance's is because of stupid blood work, the two having extreme compatibility and thus an engagement... The Alpha apparently became a teacher.

(Name) Always stood out with people, clothes traditional and expensive as students gawked at the Royal looking omega with two S rank sorcerer's beside him as security and a calm yet serious expression on his face, he was rarely called here... Hell he wasn't even allowed to attend due to being the fiance of Gojo, the Alpha barring it.

That always made (name) laugh, couldn't meet his omega even once and downright ignored him but controlled every aspect.

"You will be expected to marry within the next month, you're both 19 and twenty and after the wedding we expect pups within the first year" Gojo sat beside him, legs spread out and sitting casual as if he didn't make them wait an hour for him to arrive. (Name) Didn't know what to do with the Alpha beside him, (name) expected to wear scent patches at all times and a collar but Gojo had his scent out and proud, it was almost suffocating.

The concept of marrying such an asshole... (Name) Didn't want that.

He didn't want to live a life being this fuckers baby machine.

So, a week after... He left.

Took the jewelry gifted to him by people wanting his hand or favor, once people learned who he was it was like floodgates opened and (name) just kept the expensive jewelry in a box... Now they served a purpose.

That was one year ago, now 20 and across the country away from Tokyo and away from... Him.

(Name) Lived in a farm house on a coastal village, trading his traditional clothes for t-shirts and cardigans, simple trousers and sneakers, all things he never wore before living on his own. The two was nice, the Omega had more money than god with the jewels he sold and worked part time at the small hobby shop in town, the elderly alpha woman introducing him to many hobbies.

For the first time, (name) felt calm.

His shoulders never tensed anymore.

But he knew to never eat his guard down.

(Name) Didn't keep much tech, he didn't really use it back in Tokyo so it didn't appeal to him but he did keep a radio and a small tv in the corner, his boss giving him her old dvd player and (name) would borrow movies from the library, catching up on things he missed.

Currently he was watching a drama as he crocheted another blanket for his nest, humming softly to himself as rain patterned outside against his roof and the smell of his food cooking in the oven.

Knock knock knock.

(Name) Was confused as he stood up, walking to the door and carefully he cracked the door open just a sliver when he smelt it... Pine and peppermint. The smell of Gojo Satoru.

"You are a very hard person to find, surprisingly" Gojo said as he pushed the door open, the smell of distress and anxiety filling the small space as the sorcerer walked in "cute place, not what I would have expected from the (last name)s clans little gem" his voice condescending as he looked around at the little decorations and such.

"I'm not going back" (name) hissed as he stepped away whenever Gojo got closer "im not being some daycare for your pups while you go sleep around japan!" Gojo wore his eye mask though even with that he could feel the glare, the man was done with this.

"So you're going to play farm boy here? We both know you're not even remotely cut out for that" Gojo taunted and (name) glared at him "you know nothing about me! I know you never opened that stupid packet about me! I was expected to give everything to you but you couldn't even muster up talking to me! You treated me like I didn't exist!" (Name) Yelled angrily, all the years of anger and resentment boiling over "you don't get to want me now, I don't care if we are fated or whatever! You are a jackass!" (Name) Felt the air knocked out of him as he was pushed against a wall, the infinity making him feel like the other was pressing against him as he realized that gojos mask was no longer present, piercing blue eyes staring down at him.

"Do you think I was happy with the elders deciding that I was going to marry some prissy Omega? That suddenly I was expected to play house with someone I didn't know!" He growled and (name) wasn't backing down despite the pharamones and pressure "you didn't even try and get to know me! You didn't want me!"

"Well I'm here now, aren't I !"

" A little late, don't you think!"

"God you're annoying!"

"Back at you"

This was not the Omega Gojo remembered, the poised and refined Omega who poured tea and wore pretty clothes was replaced by an angry man in comfy clothes and a heated glare and an attitude "we are literally bound by fate and we can't even hold a conversation without arguing" Gojo found the situation weirdly funny as (name) looked at him with a mix of annoyance and disgust as the sound of his timer went off and (name) managed to get away to go take his food out the oven.

Gojo followed the other and looked at the food, it looked really good "you know how to cook?"

"I was literally trained to be the perfect house wife" (name) said bluntly as the sound of a stomach growling caught both of their attention and Gojo looked at the other and (name) sighed "I literally can't make you leave" he hissed as he grabbed another plate.

Dinner was tense as (name) ate, reading his book as he did so as Gojo took the time to inspect his surroundings "it's like an old persons house, do you even have a computer?"

"Don't know how to use one, don't need it" (name) said as he took a bite of his food and Gojo looked surprised at his words "you grew up with cast wealth, how do you not?" He didn't believe it at all as (name) set his book down "an Omega and an alpha live different lives, you were given more freedoms then myself... You got to attend school and make friends and I was raised to be the perfect mate and technology wasn't deemed important to know compared to the art of tea pouring" he said simply as he looked into the others eyes "I have spent this year learning everything i was deprived of, I lived in Tokyo yet I had never seen it outside my escape"

If it was tense before then it was suffocating now, Gojo never considered these things.

He never once considered the life his fiance was living, having always been told he was living the perfect life of luxury and frankly assumed he was some spoiled Omega.

"I would have shown you..." Gojo started, guilt bubbling in him, "oh? You would have spared me time? Between your whores?" (Name) Tilted his head curiously and Gojo felt a headache form "I hear everything you know? From my maids... They always told me I should be lucky that I'm fated to you" (name) looked away and continued eating, book abandoned beside him as the smell of fury radiated from the Omega, Gojo sighing as he took a bite of his food. The food was phenomenal, seasoned perfectly and not one thing not amazing about it but he didn't comment "we can sort these things out when we go home" Gojo said finally, they would get everything in order when they returned home.

"I am home, I have no intentions of going anywhere with you" (name) said stiffly as he stood with an empty plate.

"Well, tough" Gojo said tired as he followed the Omega around the small farm house, cozy and warm "you're my Omega and I'm tired of this"

"Was I your omega when you screwed across the land?" (Name) Glared at him, he didn't care who he was or what strength he possessed... He was tired of everyone making choices for him! "You can go back to whatever life you had before, say I died or something... I know that there's countless omegas dying for a chance to be your fiance"

"Well if you're not going with me, in not going anywhere" Gojo said simply as he walked to the small couch and plopped down "you're like a child" (name) glared, wasn't even like he could go out, the rain so heavy.

"I'm going to bed" (name) grumbled as he went to his bedroom, Gojo getting up to follow but (name) slammed the door in his face.

This was going to be annoying, Gojo could feel it.

Come morning, (name) wore a loose shirt and sweatpants as he made himself his morning drink and stared at his mug sleepily as Gojo watched from the livingroom curiously, the other rubbed his eyes sleepily as calm and sweet pharamones filled the space. Gojo realized that this was the first time he could smell the others pharamones and not smell distress.

He never smelt anything so wonderful.

(Name) Set a mug of tea, brewed perfectly "how did..." "We were both given packets about one another, you pretended I didn't exist remember?"

Gojo had a feeling (name) wasn't going to let go of that anytime soon.

Gojo followed (name) around all day, when the Omega walked down the path towards the village "you really live out in the middle of nowhere" Gojo commented as they walked along the tree lined path, (name) holding a few bags "you know in Tokyo, I could have food delivered to us right?" Gojo remarked and (name) just ignored him, at least the Alpha had the sense to wear sunglasses instead of his mask so he didn't look insane "there's barely a connection out here" the Alpha remarked, (name) knew what he was doing and it wasn't working.

The villagers looked confused as (name) had a towering alpha follow him, the omega shopping as if he wasn't even there "(name)!" A couple kids ran up to the Omega who looked down curiously "what is it little ones?" (Name) Asked softly as the youngest clung to his leg, a little pup with wide eyes and a sweet smile "play with us!" One of the kids said excitedly and (name) smiled "maybe later little ones, I have errands I have to do" (name) ushered the children towards the small park area, Gojo watching the scene curiously.

"So why did you come looking for me? I thought you would have been elated at my sudden leaving" (name) asked as they walked home, Gojo forcing the other to let him hold the bags "my alpha... It practically destroyed half the estate when it found out you left... Geto ripped me a new one"

"So you had an epiphany and came here acting like everything would be fine" (name) said with a sigh and Gojo shrugged "I mean yeah" "and what? Expect me to be like 'oh thank you alpha! You're so kind and didn't make me feel worthless and your actions didn't cause me verbal and emotional abuse from my family!' been going to therapy and the therapist says you suck" (name) was way snarkier than Gojo thought he would be, he liked that his omega wasn't weak "I spent a year being on my own and doing what makes me happy, I don't want you messing that up"

"What do you even do out here?" Gojo asked and (name) shrugged "I have a part time job and I'm an active member of the community, no stress of either of our families... Everything is good"

"What would it take for you to come back?" Gojo asked "money? I can make sure you have everything you need"

"I don't want money, I don't want that stuff... I'm not marrying someone who doesn't love me and I don't love in turn"

Gojo spent the night thinking about it, while his omega slept peacefully in the other room and pulled out his phone to text Geto... He wasn't sure what to do.

#jjk x male reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x male reader #gojo satoro x reader #Omegaverse #omega male reader #male reader

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stellarbit · 28 days

Text

Two Faces

Word Count: 11k Pairing: fem!reader x Bad Batch, light Tech nods Warnings: nada except light violence. Training, some fluff, and general fun Summary: When your sister becomes a senator, you decide to join her guard to protect her. Your mother sends you to train on Kamino as backlash. You are paired with Clone Force 99 under the guise of a regular trooper. Encountering you outside of uniform they mistake you for your sister. It is a delicate situation and you have to play your cards carefully.

This started out as a request for the guys getting jealous of you undercover and here I am. When I tell you this was SO FUN to write but took SO LONG. If y'all like imma make it a part 2.

“You want to be a foot soldier.” Your mother snarled down her nose. She was a tall woman, taller than you at least, and the governor of your planet. She waved a slender dismissive hand. “Then be a foot soldier.”

Face neutral, you stood before her in the white armor of a clone trooper. You held the helmet with both hands and a white knuckle grip. This wasn’t exactly what you had in mind when you told your mother you wanted to join your sister’s guard

From your mother’s right your sister stood wringing her hands together. She stood at your height with a face that mirrored your own. Often you were mistaken as twins. Only a few years older than you and already she was the senator for your planet -- the perfect example of what you should have been. Despite everything, the two of you were extremely close.

Concern ate her alive as she watched on. She opened her mouth, but your mother’s hand splayed out in front of her face, cutting off your sister’s voice and view of you.

Continuing to stare you down, your mother’s mouth twisted into her nose. Your family practically bred politicians and that was never your path. If the two of you agreed on nothing else it was that you were no politician.

When your sister was elected as Senator, you knew if you were trained you could be in her guard and keep her safe. It was a decision you were proud of and one that sealed your fate in the eyes of your mother. You would be of no use to her. She heard your wish and wanted to make sure you fully regretted it.

Rolling her eyes away from you, your mother turned her attention to a Kaminoan by her other side. As the leaders of two allied planets, your mother and Lama Su maintained a close relationship. At least close enough to call in favors.

“Thank you, Prime Minister, for this opportunity.” Your mother’s disgust faded into a pleasant smile. “Although, I worry she may damage the reputation of your clone troopers.”

The Kaminoan shifted his gaze to you. In near boredom he said, “You do realize she is liable to die?” Settling his hands in front of him, he turned back to your mother.

She scoffed, the idea of no concern to her. “She made her choice. Should that come to pass, Kamino will not be held responsible.” They spoke of you as if you weren’t even present. “But, do make sure they don’t take it easy on her.”

They. An ‘unorthodox’ squadron of clones you would be paired with.

Your mother said your name, her tone sharp enough to straighten your back. Her head tilted back, the crimp in her lip returning. “If it is discovered that my daughter is beneath that armor, forget ever coming home.” She muttered something to your sister and, in unison, they made for the door.

Your sister managed one last glance at you before the Kaminoan door swirled open and your mother shoved her through. Your heart sank as the giant white doors shut behind the women.

What if you never saw your sister again?

Alone with Lama Su, the bright, sterile room began to strain your eyes. The unnatural ambience of the room was enough to unsettle you without the addition of the Kaminoan’s cold stare. With slow fluidity, he fully turned towards you. His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “The modified armor will hide your identity. All you have to do is follow orders.” Lama Su said in his smooth, detached voice. He gestured a long finger towards you. “Put on your helmet, do not remove it in front of others, and remain silent. Your family may tolerate embarrassment, but I will not endure it here.”

Under his cold stare, you lifted the helmet and sealed it over your head. Your eyes had barely adjusted to the restricted line of sight when the doors hissed opened again.

Where your mother and sister had left, five men strode in. Their armor was mismatched in shape and color, but there was some vein shared between them. It took you a moment until your eyes widened and the gears finally turned. These were the clones!

You were no stranger to clones. The Republic had dispatched a group of troopers to your planet as a show of good faith and alliance, although you wondered at times if your family fully reciprocated that sentiment. That said, these men were unlike any clones you’d seen.

Their appearances were as mismatched as their armor. Your attention immediately drifted to a behemoth of a man towering over his cohorts and obviously blinded in his left eye. Standing shorter than the rest, one man sported a tattoo covering half his face. Two of them stood at the same height, one with goggles and the other with silver hair. The fifth man looked more akin to a standard clone than the rest, yet his complexion was blanched and he was outfitted with cybernetic prosthetics.

They were the most mesmerizing things you’d ever seen. And none of them spared even a glance in your direction.

Resisting the urge to look to the Kaminoan for clarification, you kept your eyes forward and did your best to look at attention.

“Clone Force 99, welcome.” Lama Su took a smooth step forward and swept a hand in your direction. Still, their eyes remained trained on the Prime Minister. “This promising trooper is being assigned to your squad for training. While their designation number is of no concern to you, you may refer to your new addition as ‘Phi.’”

Phi. A word you recognized as meaning nothing.

A pale hand landed gently on your shoulder, finally dragging Clone Force 99’s collective attention to you. Even through the armor, Lama Su’s touch made your skin crawl. The urge to bite settled between your teeth and the intensity of his stare did nothing to dissuade that.

His next words came across as almost proud. “I trust you will find the skills of this soldier to be exemplary, possibly even to surpass standard clone trooper protocol. It has been decided that integrating with your unit will provide... a most beneficial learning environment for all.”

The praise threw you off until you noticed the change in the squad’s expressions. Something in Lama Su’s words did not sit well with them. In particular, the tall silver-haired clone did nothing to hide his annoyance. Whatever it was, the undue praise clearly sealed your fate in some way. His sharp glance alone indicated that the undue praise had somehow sealed your fate—a fate Lama Su had very intentionally engineered.

“Training will begin immediately.” Lama Su said. “Proceed to the training facilities to begin. You have your orders. You are dismissed.”

Clone Force 99 wasted no time in filing out of the room, offering no introductions or even a glance to see if you followed. Their dismissal was clear; you were an outsider, not worthy of their camaraderie. Hurrying after them, the quiet of the corridor seemed to amplify the shifting of armor and footsteps.

"Just our luck!" His voice boomed, echoing off the walls. "Why do we get stuck with a reg?" He threw a glance over his shoulder, his good eye scanning you with disdain.

Reg? The term echoed in your mind, a label you didn’t yet understand.

The cybernetic clone fell back beside you. “The question is: what did you do to get stuck with us?” His tone wasn't unkind, merely curious, probing.

Instinctively, your mouth opened to respond, but Lama Su’s directive flashed in your mind—Do not speak in front of others. Clamping your mouth shut, you turned your gaze forward again, grateful for the helmet’s limited field of vision that spared you from seeing their reactions. You did see the way Crosshair's eyes narrowed, it was safe to assume your silence hadn’t helped matters.

Adjusting to the weight of your gear seemed trivial compared to the weight of maintaining silence.

Sighing, the tattooed man shook his head. “Listen,” He said as he stopped and turned. “If we are stuck together, we might as well get along. I’m Hunter.”

He gestured to the others as they continued walking. "That’s Wrecker," pointing to the large man, "Echo," indicating the cyborg, "Tech," nodding towards the one with goggles, and lastly, "And Crosshair," with a tilt of his head toward the silver-haired clone who had kept his distance.

They all waited for your addition, but it didn’t come and your silence remained. From behind your helmet you cringed. This was shaping up to be a terrible idea. You held your breath, bracing for the uncomfortable journey ahead.

Your silence only fueled Crosshair’s anger. His gaze narrowed, head cocked like a raptor eyeing prey. "Too good to speak to us?" His lip curled in a familiar, cruel sneer that reminded you of your mother.

Noticing Crosshair had an actual crosshair tattooed over his right eye you couldn’t help the little snort you made, emphasized by your helmet’s voice modulator. You immediately regretted your slip up as Crosshair set his shoulders, head snaking forward. “Something funny, reg?” The way he said that word was pure venom.

You almost conceded at the guttural sound he made at your continued silence, but before you could react Crosshair cracked his elbow into your helmet. The helmet crashed into your face and pain bloomed across your nose, knocking you down to one knee. Blood trickled from your nostrils, leaving you reeling with doubts and likely a broken nose.

"Crosshair!" Hunter barked. He didn't need to step in further; Crosshair stood back, arms crossed and lips twisted into a smirk of satisfaction.

Echo and Tech shared a glance, Wrecker gave a supportive smile, and Hunter shot Crosshair a sharp, disapproving look before turning his attention back to you. "Get up," he said firmly, "and keep up."

With one last glare from Crosshair, you pushed yourself up to your feet, determined not to show weakness. But as the sharp metallic taste of blood filled your mouth, you couldn't ignore the cold reality of your situation.

They certainly did not take it easy on you and by the end of your first session it was clear to all of you that you were a miserable excuse for a recruit. In the solitude of your room, you finally removed your helmet. In a small mirror you twisted your head, examining the crusted blood and swollen nature of your nose.

A gentle, and painful, touch confirmed your broken nose suspicions. You leaned in for a better look and smiled. It hurt like hell, but at least you made it through your first day.

You looked to a photo of your sister you’d pinned to your mirror. It’s worth it for her. Giving yourself a nod, you replaced your helmet and headed for the med bay- a trip you were going to frequent.

As you entered the medical wing, the only presence were that of two medical droids floating about and a female Kaminoan. The female swept her head in your direction, slowly blinking as you stood at the entrance. You recognized the Kaminoan as Nala Se. She’d given your family a tour of the cloning operations in the past.

She addressed you with a good evening and gestured for you to approach. “I am aware of your identity. You may remove your armor in my presence.” Nala Se said in her ever measured tone. When you still hesitated she added, “The clones are currently in the canteen.”

Reluctantly, you lifted the helmet from your head, exposing the bruised face underneath. Nala Se observed you quietly, her expression unreadable. “You should return home.” She suggested. “Our clones are trained from their creation. You will not be able to match their abilities.”

“That’s not an option now. I either return with training or in a body bag.”

You placed your helmet in a tote at the foot of the medical table and began discarding the rest of the armor in the same fashion. Clad only in your black undersuit, you continued undressing under Nala Se's impassive watch. Her clinical detachment did little to ease the discomfort of the situation

Stripped down to a bandeau and shorts, you climbed onto the examination bed. A droid hovered over you, scanning your body. "Subject exhibits a broken nose and extensive bruising," it reported to Nala Se, who nodded slightly before administering two injections—one for pain and another to reduce future bruising.

As the droid tended to your injuries, Nala Se handed you a set of clothes. "There is more than one way to remain hidden," she stated as she unfolded a Kaminoan-style outfit—a set of dark, tight-fitting pants and a long-sleeve shirt, complemented by a light-colored vest with fabric strips cascading down your legs

You’d no sooner dawned the outfit when the doors slid open again and voices immediately broke the silence.

You froze with your back to the door. Tech's analytical voice floated through the air, "I am merely saying, excess violence will only worsen the situation for all of us."

It was Crosshair who answered with dry amusement. "Speak for yourself," he scoffed.

Nala Se held your gaze a moment longer before she looked to the approaching clones. “CT-9902 and CT-9904, what is it that you require?”

Tech spoke up from behind you, "There is a high probability that Crosshair fractured his knuckles during training." You could think of a few instances that could’ve caused that, the bruises across your body serving as evidence.

Swallowing the groan in your throat, you finally faced them. Tech and Crosshair stopped in their tracks both staring at you with some confusion.

“Senator.” Tech offered a nod of respect. His polite tone threw you off balance as he mistook you for your sister. The Kaminoans' medical treatment had indeed worked wonders, hiding your identity well enough to prompt the error.

Crosshair frowned, a toothpick tilting in his mouth.

Tech, noticing Crosshair’s tight expression, nudged his brother. “We passed her on the way to meet the Prime Minister.” This was enough for the sniper to remove his toothpick and stand a bit straighter.

The immediate respect was a stark contrast to the blows they’d dealt you all day. Embracing the assumption you smiled graciously despite the stiff feeling in your face. “It is a pleasure to formally meet you, troopers.” You rounded the table to stand before them.

Without your gear, you realized just how much taller they were. And without the restrictive view of your helmet, you could fully appreciate how striking they were. They stood with practiced military bearing, radiating strength and a sense of purpose that matched their formidable presence.

Absolutely breathtaking, and in a much different way than when they'd been knocking the wind out of you earlier.

“The honor is ours, Senator.” Tech said. His eyes searched your face, for what you weren’t certain.Though having his eyes on any part of you was a lovely sensation. He paused momentarily, but found your eyes again.

Crosshair kept his gaze steady as he studied you, lending some clarity to your earlier question. "What brings a senator down to the med bay? Surely not curiosity."

Holding your composure, you lied, “I am… personally interested in the development and progress of the valiant men keeping our galaxy safe.” You took the opportunity to circle the two men while they remained still and eyes forward. The men had equally long legs and cinched waists that were positively sinful. This view of them was certainly an upgrade, igniting an idea in you.

“In fact,” You polished a smile as you came back to their fronts. “I’d be interested in some personal lessons from esteemed men such as yourselves.”

Surprise lifted Tech’s eyebrows and pulled the corner of Crosshair’s lip up.

“Mistress Se mentioned your squad is already undertaking the training of a new recruit.” Their expressions dulled at the reminder. “What’s a few extra morning sessions with a mere Senator?”

Nala Se, observing the exchange from the background, stepped forward to say, "That can be arranged for the morning after next. For now, the senator has matters to attend to. CT-9904, please proceed with your treatment."

Tech offered another polite nod before leading Crosshair to the medical equipment. As they moved away, you exhaled, glancing at Nala Se, who gave you an almost imperceptible nod of approval.

The following morning, back in your armor, you walked into the training room and the middle of Clone Force 99’s conversation.

Wrecker was throwing his head around, moaning about something you couldn't quite catch. “-well, why didn’t I see her?”

“You did, Wrecker.” Tech said in a flat, exasperated breath. “If only in passing.”

“But why would a senator want to watch us train?” Echo shook his head in confusion.

Tech adjusted his goggles. “Correction: she wants to train with us.”

As he twirled a knife between his fingers, Hunter asked, “Then why would a senator want to train with clones?”

“Does it matter?” Crosshair drawled from his perch on a rectangular obstacle with a knee pulled up.. “If the little princess wants our hands on her, who are we to deny?”

Little princess. Your mind stuttered at the words while your body visibly jerked at them. The squadron cut their conversation short and looked to you. The amusement between them quickly faded, yet even this attention had heat crawling through you.

“Let’s get this over with.” Hunter gruffed while putting on his helmet. The rest followed suit and training began.

The session was as brutal as the day prior, starting with sparring and finishing with blaster drills. You didn’t do much better than the day prior, but you were proud to have left with no new fractures. By the next morning you could barely leave bed.

But ‘little princess’ was enough to push you up.

You arrived at the training room early. It was much smaller than the usual arenas, scattered with mannequins instead of physical obstacles. You traded your armor for a form-fitting suit similar to the blacks troopers wore. Without a helmet, you felt exposed—but exhilarated.

When the doors slid open, your pulse quickened. With composure your mother would admire, you smoothed your expression and smiled. “Nice of you boys to join me.”

A small smirk lifted Hunter’s lips as he regarded you. “Senator.” he greeted, his gaze sweeping over your form. The word almost caused your smile to falter, reminding you of the misconception they were under.

They made their introductions before Hunter, hand at his hip, gestured for you to advance. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

The soreness that wracked your body protested when you squared your shoulders. “I was born ready.” Hopefully your feigned confidence won them over.

The way the leader’s head dipped with a small laugh said it did. Even from a distance, the sound reverberated through you to your core.

“Don’t worry,” Wrecker’s large hand clapped down on your shoulder and right onto an unseen bruise. “We’ll take it easy on ya!”

Crosshair rolled a toothpick between his lips. “Easy’s not our style, Wrecker.” You met his still skeptical stare, not backing down from the challenge.

“I can handle it.”

He snorted, flicked away his toothpick, and strode over to you. Leaning in he said in a low, snippy voice, “Better keep up, princess.”

As much as the nickname heated your blood, you maintained your smile, determined to earn their respect. “I intend to.” You said in an equally low, taunting tone.

From the very beginning, their training style was a complete turn around compared to the borderline abuse you endured while in armor.

Hunter set the pace, showing you rapid movements to prove your reflexes. When a moment of exhaustion hit and you noticeably slowed, Hunter teased, “I thought you said you’d keep up.”

Sagging your shoulders, you rolled back your head with a laugh. “Alright, maybe I wasn’t born for this.”

“We sure were.” Wrecker laughed and took over, launching into instruction about utilizing your body weight against an opponent. He demonstrated on Crosshair, who loudly hissed in protest. Wrecker put a shoulder into Crosshair’s abdomen and tossed him over his shoulder like a sandbag.

Crosshair struggled against his brother’s hold, until he landed safely on the ground. He snarled at Wrecker, then caught the amused smile tugging at your lips. With a grunt of annoyance, he averted his gaze and casually placed a toothpick back between his lips, feigning indifference.

“C’mon, now you try,” Wrecker encouraged as you stepped close. He used his massive hands to reposition your torso into a bent over position. “Like this, see? You gotta feel the power through your whole body!” His bubbly enthusiasm made it hard to take the movement seriously.

His demeanor wasn’t your only distraction. Despite your mother’s disregard for you, as the daughter of a politician, people were always careful with you. Between their ruthless training of you as ‘Phi’ and their gentle instruction as a ‘Senator,’ you were finding them more and more captivating.

Their presence was intoxicating.

Tech used a more methodical style of instruction. His hands deftly maneuvered your body into a slightly different form. “Optimal form is crucial,” he explained. His fingers lingered just a moment too long on your spine, sending an unexpected shiver down your back. With one hand he pressed your bruised shoulder lower.

Your teeth clenched against the pain, a quiet whine making its way past your lips. Tech immediately released his hand, observing you with a tilted glance. “Interesting,” he whispered with curiosity that pulled your eyes to his. Behind those brown eyes of his, something passed through. He blinked once, twice, and stepped back.

The moment went unnoticed as Echo chimed in. “Throw your weight behind it and aim for his diaphragm.” Wrecker tried to chuckle, but you cut him off by doing just that. Despite your best efforts, he didn’t even flinch. A chorus of chuckles erupted around you, but it felt good to join their lighthearted banter instead of getting the kriff kicked out of you.

The training continued until you were slick with sweat. You were exhausted, sure, but the exhilaration you felt in the beginning only grew with every brush with the men.

Though throughout the trading, Crosshair paid the experience little interest. He meandered the outskirts of the room, only chiming in when you had a misstep. Finally, winded but grinning, you let yourself sink to the floor. Crosshair sauntered over, standing behind you as he shifted his weight onto one foot.

His weight shifted onto one foot and postured over you. “Looks like what they say about senators is true.” He snorted, but the bite his voice carried when you were Phi was missing.

You leaned back, hands propped behind you, and squinted up at him. “And what’s that?”

His keen eyes scanned you, briefly pausing on your heaving chest before meeting your gaze again. “You’re all talk.”

Crosshair maintained a smug expression while his brothers fell silent, their attention fixed on the two of you. For the first time since training began, the ache in your nose surfaced in your mind. The memory of Crosshair's initial blow hung in the air as you carefully considered the situation, your tongue slipping over your teeth. He didn't realize it, but as you sat there inches from his feet, he was perched right within your reach. His guard was down, dismissing you as a non-threat.

The backhanded comment about Senator inaction was the deciding factor in your next move. You could always tolerate insults aimed at you. The rough training was even tolerable if it meant a means to your purpose.

Calling out a senator’s - your sister’s - resolve, however, was a step too far.

In one swift motion, you fell back, hooked an arm around his ankle, and yanked his foot out from under him. Crosshair's arms swung through the air, desperately trying to catch his balance, but he tumbled to the ground with a thud, a gasp of air forced from his lungs. Lounging back on one elbow, you kept his ankle cradled firmly in your arm.

The rest of Clone Force 99 tried - and failed - to stifle their laughter. Eventually, they gave him the same round of laughter you received. Crosshair shoved up on his elbows with a scowl. The twitch in his lip betrayed the amusement nipping at him. Grunting with a roll of his eyes, he pushed you off his foot. “Lucky shot.”

You raised your eyebrows with a satisfied hum, then let yourself fall back onto the training mat. As you lay there, staring up at the bright ceiling and still catching your breath with a laugh lingering on your tongue, you felt an unfamiliar sensation—happiness.

All your life, you’d been chasing after your sister, constantly seeking your family's approval. You had never been allowed to simply exist or pursue anything for yourself.

But laying there, beaten and exhausted, you felt strangely good.

Wrecker’s face appeared above you with a lopsided smile. He extended a hand as he said, “Now, where’d you learn to do that?”

Groaning, you accepted his hand and he lifted you with ease. “It comes with having a sister,” you replied. The mention of your sister brought a bubble of anxiety to the surface and Lama Su’s warning pricked you.

“Ha! Just like us then.” With his hand still clasping yours, Wrecker steadied you by gently pressing his other hand against the small of your back.

Your face heated, though it was already flushed from training, and you quickly cleared your throat, stepping out of his grasp. Brushing off imaginary dust from your thighs, did your best to sound casua. “I’m curious,” you said, eager to switch topics, “how’s training that trooper Nala Se told me about?”

Just like mentioning your sister had done to you, bringing up the trainee cast a shadow over the troopers’ mood, which only heightened your anxiety.

“Don’t remind us.” Wrecker gruffed. “It’s bad enough we’re missing out on missions and we’re stuck with a reg.”

“Reg?” You repeated.

Echo sighed with exasperation. “Regular clone.” The way you muddled your face prompted the others to elaborate on their own differences. Though you knew Clone Force 99 was different, you hadn’t realized the full extent until now. You understood now why Echo was the least brutal in his training. With his origins as a regular clone, he sympathized.

Lama Su’s conversation with them finally made sense. He was stoking a fire meant to burn you out.

You laughed nervously, “Surely it can’t be that bad.”

Hunter rubbed the bridge of his nose, dreading the afternoon ahead. “Trust us, you’re showing more potential than this guy.”

They all launched into a conversation about the trainee's abysmal performance, not realizing the irony. Meanwhile, Tech stood back, focused on his datapad, occasionally looking up at the group- at you.

Walking away from the group, you tried to peek at his screen. “What are you looking at?”

Tech glanced up at you and quickly tucked the device away. “I was reading up on some political matters.” He adjusted his goggles and glanced at his brothers still chatting away. “Nothing you are not already appraised of.”

Mouthing an ‘oh’ you followed his gaze t back to the others. They looked so different now, discussing the reg amongst them, than they did just moments ago. “Why exactly are you here?” Tech questioned, you could feel his attention on you.

Not bothering to meet Tech’s stare, you answered without hesitation. “To make a difference the only way I can.”

From that point on, a cycle began. Every morning they trained you as the Senator and every afternoon you received a beating as Phi.

Knowing their distaste for Phi was completely unrelated to you may have eased your anxiety but it didn’t make your training any easier.

That came with your mornings with Clone Force 99 and, on occasion, an even meeting.

The first time you ran into them outside of training happened when you’d snuck off to comm your sister. After stealing a holocom from the medical facility, you wandered the corridors for a few nights to find the best place to reach her. You always worried about an unexpected visitor in your barrack room. Wrapped in a cloak, you huddled beside a viewport, lost in thought as you stared at the device in your hands.

It had been the longest stretch you’d gone without speaking to your sister. Nerves kept your fingers hovering over the controls, practicing how you'd greet her, when suddenly your vision went dark. Your hands dropped the holocom in surprise, but it never hit the ground.

“Look who we found!” Wrecker’s boisterous voice boomed, warm and close, as his large form pressed up behind you.

Letting out a startled breath, you gently pulled his hands away from your eyes. Standing before you were Hunter and Crosshair, both of whom looked amused.

Hunter practically sauntered forward as he offered you the holocom back. "Caught you," he teased, handing the holocom back to you with a sly grin. His eyes dipped as your fingers brushed against his, he shot a question with smirk at you. “What are you doing out here so late?”

You clutched the device a bit more securely and shrugged. "Just needed a quiet spot to contact my sister," you admitted.

Crosshair raised an eyebrow, plucking the toothpick from his mouth and pointing it at you. "And you chose the coldest corridor on Kamino for your heartfelt chat?" he was unconvinced.

You spun the device nervously in your hands. “I didn’t think anyone would be out at this time.”

The silver haired clone gave a low chuckle, twirling the toothpick between his fingers. "Well, don't let us interrupt your cozy little conversation.”

“We’re headed to the canteen for a bite to eat, you should come.” Wrecker suggested, resting his hands on your shoulder.

Hunter nodded in agreement. "You’re right about one thing - it’s quieter this time of night. Less regs to get in the way."

Wrecker grinned wide and leaned in closer, giving you a gentle shake as his presence nudged you forward. "Besides, it's warmer there!"

You certainly felt warmer, but not just from the prospect of a heated room. Glancing down at the holocom, you wondered if your sister was even awake. Unable to resist their invite, you stashed the device away and smiled. “Alright, why not? Lead the way.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Crosshair said in a way that made you roll your eyes. He could make anything sound sarcastic.

Joining them turned out to be a worthy trade. Crosshair and Hunter sat across from you and Wrecker. Wrecker made a habit of pushing into your space, offering bites of his favorite bits, while Crosshair and Hunter discussed your upcoming training sessions as Phi—a topic you found less than thrilling. Instead, you chose to bask in Wrecker’s warm attention.

Despite his high energy and monstrous strength, Wrecker proved to be the most gentle of the batch. Always the first to help you to your feet or catch you when you stumbled. His touch light, the calluses of his hands only ever brushing you. The skinship was a new experience for you, but one you wanted more of each time.

After your last bite of a chocolate morsel, Wrecker caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger. He rubbed a thumb over the corner of your mouth, dragging your lip down with the pressure of his touch.

“Got a little somethin’ there,” Wrecker chuckled, showing you the smear of chocolate on his thumb. “Guess I’m not the only messy eater ‘round here.” His smile crinkled his eyes as he dipped his thumb into his mouth to suck off the sweet remnant.

The casual intimacy of the gesture wasn’t lost on you, though it seemed to escape him. He turned back to his plate, completely missing the heat rising to your face. As a soft smile lilted your lips, you shut your eyes and leaned into Wrecker’s form. Surrounded by them, you felt a wave of contentment—you could happily spend all your free time like this

Wrecker perked up, his eyes wide and eyebrows raised as he felt your weight against him. He sat stock still for a moment, glancing between you and his brothers. Gradually, he relaxed into your touch and reached an arm around you.

“H-Hey,” he stammered slightly, patting a hand on your hip, “What’s all this?”

A foot knocked into yours from beneath the table. Peeking out from under an eyelid, you met Hunter’s lopsided smile and received another gentle tap. “Don’t be falling asleep on us. It wouldn’t be a good look for us to be carrying your limp body back.”

“Is the little princess tired?” Crosshair added lightly, a rare hint of playfulness in his tone.

Closing your eye once more, you hummed in agreement. Sitting alone with them in a mess hall, sharing a meal and laughing under the harsh lighting, you felt completely at peace.

Your mother had meant this all to be a punishment. She couldn’t have imagined that this place, these men, would heal a part of you you hadn’t realized was broken. They built you up and their training made you feel strong. They never admitted to it while you were in armor, but from their observations of the Senator you were improving.

Something you showcased one afternoon as Phi. During a drill with dummy droids, you found yourself blindsided by a metallic blow to your back. Another droid seized you by the neck and hurled you about twenty feet, leaving you crumpled on the ground as the simulation abruptly ended.

Still seeing stars, you heard the familiar cadence of Crosshair’s footsteps. “Get up.” Crosshair growled from above you.

Twisting onto your side, you struggled to catch your breath. Crosshair’s helmet angled to the side as he clicked his tongue, shoving his heal into your hip. “I said get up.” He punctuated his words with another kick. The sharp pain instantly boiled up weeks of frustration and pain.

Not a single thought registered with you as you snapped. As fast as a hydrosnake, you lashed out, looped an arm around his ankle and thrashed him back as you had before. This time your training took over.

You didn’t stop at holding him by his foot. No, you pulled his leg to the side, opening his hips, and pinned his thigh under your knee. Before he could grab at you, you pressed your torso across his, driving an elbow into the side of his helmet. Your hands clasped behind his bicep, effectively locking him in place.

Crosshair thrashed against you as his free hand hammered into the soft spot between your chest and shoulder plates. With every hit, you tightened your grip on him. His vile threats drowned out the sound of Wrecker’s stomping towards the two of you.

A large hand ripped you by the back of your neck, instantly detangling you from the sniper. “Not so tough now, are ya?” Wrecker taunted.

Dangling in the air, your legs kicked and fingers scratched at Wrecker’s fingers. The fingers that otherwise delicately touched you choked you in more ways than one. Crosshair shot up from the ground, ripping off his helmet to expose his seething expression.

“Wrecker!” Echo’s voice rang out from the sidelines, but his veiled command did little to deescalate the situation.

The sarcastic, teasing Crosshair who interacted with you as a senator was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he whipped a finger at you, a silent but unmistakable threat as he closed in on you.

It was Tech that quickly slid between you, effectively barring Crosshair from getting his hands on you. “Crosshair.” Tech’s tone was firm, if not altogether scolding. “You kicked them while they were incapacitated. Therefore, their actions were justified, while your reaction is not.”

Crosshair shook with rage, eyes burning into you past Tech's shoulder. The silent threat of his pointed finger became a promise.

“Wrecker, drop him.” Hunter ordered he yanked Wrecker’s arm down.

Wrecker begrudgingly released you, setting you down with a rough thud, but you quickly steadied yourself, brushing off the dust. Your breath was labored, but you didn’t falter under Crosshair’s glare. It didn’t matter who Crosshair thought you were at this point, he was just being cruel. It fully pissed you off more than anything up to that point. Tension hung in the air, and with each passing second, your urge to snap grew stronger.

Tech stepped aside and Hunter’s stern gaze moved between you and Crosshair. “Are we done?”

Crosshair let out a low growl before reluctantly shoving his helmet back on with a quick twist. You, on the other hand, weren’t done and needed to calm down fast.

“You’ll never be worth our time,” Crosshair said with venom. “You fight like a child.”

That simmering urge burst through. You lunged forward, craned your head back, and bashed the front of your helmet into his. The old wound on your nose flared, but watching Crosshair thrown back and stumbling dulled the pain to an ache.

He shook it off quickly enough and charged you again, narrowly missing as Echo intercepted him.

While you regained your balance, Tech fell in beside you, gently catching you by the forearm. You were too busy wheezing to notice the strangeness in Tech’s assisting you as Phi. While you watched Hunter and Echo work to calm Crosshair, Tech brought his head closer, whispering for only you to hear, “Do not antagonize him. You’ve already had one broken nose, let’s not aim for another.”

All of your burning rage cooled in an instant. You slowly looked at the technician, whose eyes watched you intensely from behind his helmet. Something in his gaze drowned out all other sounds around you. He looked at you differently from how the others ever had.

You had no idea how he knew, but the way he looked at you made it clear: Tech knew exactly who you were.

He leaned closer, his voice a low, amused murmur. "It was obvious." Your head jerked back as if to say ‘how was it obvious?’

Sensing your immediate tension, he added quickly, "To me, at least. The others don’t seem to have noticed." He glanced over his shoulder to ensure Crosshair remained restrained before looking back at you. "We'll manage Crosshair. You should head to the medical facility to have your nose examined."

“Tech-” You tried to whisper but Tech cut you off, spinning you towards the exit. You didn’t wait for him to tell you again.

You did manage to hear Tech quip, “For the record, Crosshair, that would be twice now they bested you.” You made sure you were out the door by the time Crosshair turned on his brother.

Tech was right to send you to get checked out. You’d avoided a broken nose, but the swelling did need attention. You were still in armor when you got back to your room. Dropping down onto a storage tote, you set your helmet between your feet. Elbows on your knees, you sat looking out over the swath of ocean beyond your windows.

The steady drum of rain against your window helped soothe your nerves, which had barely eased since you left the training grounds. You sat there for a while, combing through your time on Kamino, searching for any clue as to how Tech figured out who you were. With his keen mind, anything seemed possible, but you still wondered when you slipped up.

The sound of your barrack door opening snapped you out of concentration. You couldn’t reach for your helmet fast enough when someone said,“You need not bother with that”

You whipped around, twisting in your spot. Sans helmet and alone, Tech stood in your room. He’d already seen your face and touched your body, but this felt like you were meeting for the first time.

You slowly stood, picking at your fingertips. “Hi,” was all you managed to croak out as the door shut behind him.

It must've been an odd sight, you thought. The face of a senator on the body of a trooper. You snuck a glance at your reflection in the window. The sight was familiar to you now, but you remembered the juxtaposition taking time to get used to. You weren’t happy that the first time Tech was seeing you as you, your hair was stuck in a bird’s nest of a bun with crooked hairs jutting out at all angles

Tech said your name and something in your chest lurched at the sound. “If I am correct,” He said as moved his goggles up his nose. “-And I usually am, that is your real name. Is it not?” He remained standing just at the entrance of your room.

Your lips tucked into your mouth as you nodded slowly, still unsure about what to even say. “How did you know?”

Upon your admission Tech walked closer, free of the tension you carried. “Observation and deduction.” He explained, stepping around the tote separating you to take you in fully. Unlike when you portrayed Phi or the Senator, you had never noticed him observing you with such explicit curiosity.

Tech circled you, one hand cradling his elbow and the other holding his chin. “I was fairly certain Crosshair broke the trooper’s nose during the initial altercation. When we met in the medical facility, I noticed a distinct mark on your nose—an odd thing for a distinguished guest such as a Senator.” He moved around your right side, his finger gently pressing into your shoulder. “To confirm my suspicions, I applied pressure to a region I hypothesized would be tender if my assumptions were correct.”

"Your reaction confirmed it," Tech concluded, stepping back to give you space. "It was subtle, but it was enough for me to piece together the truth about your dual identities."

He took a seat on the tote facing the window and pulled out his datapad, tapping away as he continued. “Still, I didn’t have an explanation as to why a senator would be here like this. Until you mentioned your sister, which finally prompted me to do a bit of research.” Tech angled his datapad towards you, displaying a news article with a photo of your sister. “I must admit, the resemblance is uncanny. However, with her being accounted for on Coruscant, it would prove impossible for her to be on Kamino.”

He pressed a button and a photo of a stoic family appeared - your parents standing behind you and your sister. You only got a glance in before Tech pulled it back to his face. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the photo. “Besides, while the two of you do share similar features, you are far more… captivating.” Tech looked up at you, still standing beside him. “I could never confuse the two of you.”

Your breath hitched at ‘captivating.’ No one had ever remotely said that to you. It was always either you could pass for twins or your sister was the more fortunate child. Coming from Tech, such a logical and blunt man, it took your breath away. He saw no point in undue praise or flattery; to him, he was merely stating facts. It melted you.

You lowered yourself next to him, knees turned in his direction. “Why haven’t you told the others?”

Tech thought for a moment, his eyes shifting to the side as he considered your question “I do not know your reason for anonymity, but I respect your decision and will not jeopardize that. Your privacy is your own.” He nodded, pivoting to fully face you. “And I find I rather enjoy being the only one to know this about you.”

The tension in your shoulders ebbed, replaced by a fluttering that started in your chest and made breathing a manual task. You caught your reflection again, feeling frustrated that in such a moment you looked so disheveled. You balled your fists tightly enough that your fingernails dug into your palms, embarrassed that he offered such compliments to someone like you.

“Why are you making such a face?” Tech asked.

You watched yourself a second longer before offering him a sad smile. “I think I know now why you wear those goggles.”

Tech’s brows pulled together. “They alter the way light enters my eye to correct my eye’s refractive errors.” You sat back, blinking at the explanation, humor coming to your smile. Tech kept a serious face, not understanding the nuances you were attempting. “They help me see,” He clarified in a flat tone.

You yielded a small laugh, leaning over to tap his knee. “I know, I was trying to say you must need them if you think I’m the pretty sister.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you realized how mean they sounded. Not just insulting Tech’s taste, but fully airing the distaste you held for yourself. Your smile dropped and along with your eyes to the hand still on his knee.

A drop of panic hit your gut as you started pulling your hand away. “I’m sorry, I-”

Tech grabbed your wrist and you couldn’t react before he hushed you, “Get down.” He said, pulling you both down to the floor. He ducked his head, pushing yours down and pulling you flush against him in one motion. His hand cupped over your mouth just before you heard the door open. Two sets of footsteps echoed in. Whoever it was, they were too far away for you to get a clear image of them in the window’s reflection.

You craned your neck, trying to get a look but Tech held you fast.

“His armor isn’t here.” Crosshair’s sharp voice rung out. “The little snake isn’t home.”

Hunter answered with a sigh, “Cross, none of us like this but you need to ease up. The sooner we get him trained, the sooner we get rid of him.” The two of them made themselves at home, walking around on a light inspection of your space.

Tech kept you both completely still, staying so silent you weren’t sure he was even breathing. Which was impressive considering that between the intruders and being positioned between Tech’s legs you were having a hard time regulating your own sounds.

One set of footsteps quieted. “Would you look at that?” Crosshair snarled. “Looks like the reg has a little crush.” The sound of paper snapping told you he found the picture of your sister hanging from your mirror. The level of agitation in his voice made you worry for the next time Crosshair caught you in uniform.

“That might be why I-” Hunter stopped mid-sentence. You heard footsteps shuffle in place.

“What is it?” Crosshair pressed.

A moment passed before Hunter continued. “It’s nothing. We should go. You can play nice later.” Crosshair made a noise of frustration, and the two of them left the room.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Tech eased his grip on you. His arms hung beside you while you instinctively sagged against him in relief. You twisted around to ask, “What were they doing in here?”

“My guess would be that Hunter wanted Crosshair to make amends.” You could see a thought turning over in him. “And I would say Hunter either just realized the situation or is on the very cusp of doing so.”

“How did they-”

“We have always known which barrack was yours.” Tech answered before you could get the question out. He glanced away momentarily, considering his words carefully. “I advised them early on to leave well enough alone.”

The two of you held each other's gaze for a moment, and Tech's expression softened, becoming more reflective. “I did say I enjoyed being the only one to know your identity,” he murmured. “What I neglected to mention is that I took measures to keep it that way.” Gently, he lifted a knuckle to your cheekbone, brushing back a stray hair. The corner of his mouth ticked upwards.

“It doesn’t bother you - not really knowing me?” You asked.

As Tech began to help untangle the two of you from your hiding spot, he responded. “We may not have had traditional introductions, but I know all that I need to.” You pulled your legs beneath you, reaching out for Tech as he stood. He gripped your hand firmly and pulled you up.

With a slight grunt as he helped you to your feet, Tech continued, “You are resourceful and brave. These qualities are not just observed; they are proven through your actions and decisions here.” Tech’s voice carried a respect and a hint of admiration that felt more personal than his usual factual observations.

“And while I may not know every detail of your past or every layer of your personality yet, I understand your core—your competence, your strength, and your commitment to your goals. These are the attributes that define you, not just the name you carry or the role you play.”

Tech bent over and plucked your helmet from the floor. “Plus, as a clone, a name doesn’t hold a great deal of value for me.” He held the helmet in his hands, He rotated the helmet, examining it before gently handing it back to you. “Does that answer your question?”

Nodding in slight awe, you gently accepted the helmet and immediately dropped it, opting instead to quickly wrap your arms around his waist. “Thank you, Tech.”

Tech stiffened slightly, the rush of adrenaline visible as his posture tightened—a clear sign of his surprise at the physical closeness. This type of interaction was uncharted territory for him. In the window’s reflection, he watched the two of you. Your face was tucked into his chest, hidden from view, but he could feel the tremor of your breathing. Unsure of what else to do, Tech lightly touched your head. “O-of course.”

Tech had a myriad of questions for you about your past and your motivations.Holding you in that moment, he decided, was enough. The questions could wait for another day.

The next morning's training session was particularly challenging for you. It was hard to ignore Hunter's scrutinizing gaze. He watched you as if decoding every movement, his eyes sharp and probing. Tech's earlier observations were spot on—Hunter was definitely onto something.

For once, you found yourself eagerly awaiting the end of the session. As soon as it was over, you hustled away faster than usual, leaving Clone Force 99 to prepare yourself for that evening. You were going to tell them the whole truth.

After mentally rehearsing several scenarios multiple times, you donned your armor and headed for the training facilities. However, as you stepped out of your room, you nearly collided with Nala Se.

She didn’t flinch, embodying the typical Kaminoan stillness. Towering above you, she blinked slowly, her gaze piercing. “Before you go, I must see to your injuries,” Nala Se stated matter-of-factly. Without waiting for your response—accustomed to your practiced silence—she turned and headed towards the medical wing.

You followed quietly, your mind racing as you pondered which injuries she referred to. Certainly, your nose and the rest of your face still ached from the previous day's exertions, and your torso was a tapestry of bruises, but these were all injuries that had been treated before. Moreover, Nala Se had scarcely crossed your path in recent weeks. Initially, she had helped you avoid detection, but she had not intervened since.

Her sudden appearance was less than comforting.

In the quiet of the medical facility, oddly void of the typical droids, Nala Se motioned to a bed. “Have a seat and remove your helmet.”

You were so preoccupied with thoughts of how your tardiness for training might disrupt your planned conversations that you barely registered her instructions. Nala Se said your name, snapping you back to the present.

Removing your helmet, you looked across the bed at her and realized her gaze was focused past you. It hadn’t been her calling your name.

Outside, Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, Echo, and Crosshair were on their way to the training facilities, helmets under their arms, when they noticed the Senator entering one of the medical rooms. Today, you weren’t cloaked in your typical attire but wore a robe of deep purple with gold threading, which seemed oddly formal.

Crosshair snorted, “Looks like we need to ease up on our little princess.”

Tech, who had been absorbed in his datapad, looked up. “To what are you referring?”

“I told you she was actin’ weird.” Wrecker said, more concerned than accusatory, ignoring Tech’s question. “Should we do somethin’?”

Echo, looking to clarify for Tech, gestured with his prosthetic arm. “We just saw the Senator enter the medical facility. And yes, we should check on her before heading to training.”

Tech paused, processing the information. He knew you well enough to be aware of your usual post-training soreness and kept an eye on the medical records associated with your after-training exams. You hadn’t sustained injuries severe enough recently to necessitate a deviation from your normal routine. He buzzed with suspicions and worried over the implications of your unexpected visit to the medical facility at such an unusual time.

“Let’s get this over with.” Hunter said, moving forward with all but Tech who stood in place a second longer. If his suspicions were correct, this was not going to go well.

Back inside, you were faced with your reflection. Blinking back confusion, your mind struggled to process what you were seeing. Stepping towards you, adorned in the traditional regalia of your homeworld, was your sister, looking every bit the senator she was meant to be, her hair elegantly braided back with strands of gold and pearls woven through. The purples and golds of her dress made her appear radiant and regal—so much like your mother, and so unlike you in your scuffed armor and haphazardly tied hair.

Nala Se wordlessly removed herself from the room, making the entire setup evident.

“Sister?” Your voice barely whispered as you took a hesitant step forward, half-fearing that any sudden movement might cause her to vanish like a mirage.

Her eyes widened, her pace slowing, as she scanned your face. Her face, so alike and unlike yours, crumpled with emotion, her lip trembling. Then, with a burst of energy, she ran towards you, hands reaching out from the folds of her cloak. You caught her in a tight embrace as she collided into you, her presence grounding the surreal moment.

She didn’t speak at first, only managing to choke back muffled sobs against your shoulder. You rested your head against hers, holding her close, and savored the familiar scent of her perfume—a reminder of days long past. “I’ve missed you,” you murmured, your voice not choked with sadness but steady and comforting. You had always been the pillar for her to lean on; this time was no different.

Your sister pulled back, rubbing tears away with the heel of her hand. She managed a shaky smile, laughing through another small sob. "I’ve been so worried. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner."

You shook your head with a smile, gently gripping her shoulders. "You have more important things to do. Like, I don’t know, running the galaxy," you joked. Pulling her into another hug, you held her close for a moment before stepping back to reassess her. "Though… what are you doing here?"

Your sister took your hand, her grip soft against your calloused skin, and squeezed it tightly. "I’ve come to take you home. Mother—"

"Mother?" you interrupted, your tone sharpening as you pulled your hand away.

“We need you-”

“We?” You repeated louder. The joy of your sister’s visit dimmed the instant you remembered why you were standing together in a Kaminoan facility in the first place. “If this is for her, you shouldn’t be here.”

Your sister pressed a hand to her chest, perturbed by your tone. You’d never spoken to her like that. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

Swallowing the instinct to give in to her, you reached for your helmet. “I don’t need to. You know why I’m here and I intend to see it through. You should leave-”

The sounds of the doors whirring open cut you off as you snapped your helmet on in a hurry.

Suddenly confused, your sister opened her mouth to say something, but instead you heard a familiar voice and the strength you’d maintained was replaced by panic.

The sudden arrival of Crosshair and the rest of Clone Force 99 sliced through the tense atmosphere like a vibroblade. “How touching,” Crosshair drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he rounded the privacy divider at the room's entrance. “What is our little princess doing alone with a reg? I didn’t realize you had a pet.” His cold gaze landed on you, igniting a tremor in your hands.

Your sister’s expression twisted in a stomach churning and familiar way. She scoffed and turned, “Little princess?” She spat the words out, her disdain palpable. You felt like you might gag yourself.

Your attention snapped to Tech who was just as stunned as you’d been moments before. Apparently he’d not predicted this. Hunter kept a straight face, eyebrows a little furrowed. If he had any suspicions about your dual identity, this chaotic reveal was likely skewing his thoughts. Echo, ever the sentinel, stood slightly taller, his posture tightening as if preparing for conflict. Wrecker towered behind the group, watching on with a rare sense of seriousness.

Crosshair, shifting his weight casually and placing a toothpick between his lips, continued to provoke. “What? Don’t want him knowing about our little fun together?” His wording would’ve made you laugh had the situation been different. He stirring up a misunderstanding for his own amusement.

Your sister didn’t bite. She cocked an eyebrow, giving the sniper a challenging stare before turning her attention back to you. “Are these the clones that have been training you?” Her tone was sharp, and her expression mirrored the stern demeanor of your mother.

Caught between weeks of training to maintain silence in your armor and the escalating tension, you found yourself paralyzed, struggling to formulate a response. It seemed all you could do was breathe through the growing panic.

“You two know each other?” Wrecker piped up.

Your sister, her confusion morphing into frustration, glanced quickly back at the group. “Answer me,” she demanded, her voice heavy with authority that did nothing to ease the stiffness of your tongue.

“You little shit,” Crosshair fumed, stepping towards you but immediately restrained by Hunter’s firm grip. Despite being held back, he snapped, “Show respect and answer her.”

Receiving his anger as an unnamed clone never felt as painful as the anger directed to you now.

Whirling on them, your sister jabbed a finger at him. “Who do you think you’re talking to, clone?” The disrespect in the way she said ‘clone’ gutted you and visibly startled Wrecker and Crosshair.

“Me?” Crosshair retorted, pointing a finger back at her. “Why are you defending him?”

“Him?” Her voice rose almost to a shrill. You reached out, trying to pull her back from the brink of the confrontation, only to have your hand sharply slapped away. She spun around to face you. “Take that ridiculous thing off!” She reached for your helmet, and this time, you reflexively slapped her hand away.

Crosshair, seething with anger, wrenched free from Hunter's grasp and charged toward you. Tech's shouts echoed behind him, but Crosshair was undeterred. He brushed past your sister with a dismissive flick, gripped the rim of your helmet with one hand, and shoved you backward with the other. Just as you tumbled to the floor, your sister retaliated, pushing him away forcefully. From your position on the ground, you didn't see it, but the sharp slap she delivered resounded through the room.

With his cheek stinging from the slap, Crosshair held his ground, his grip white-knuckled on your helmet as he turned a furious gaze on the woman standing defiantly before him. The intensity in her eyes was something entirely new to him. They locked eyes, each poised for further confrontation, when a realization dawned on Crosshair.

He’d never seen you look quite like this. In fact, you seemed like a completely different person. Dropping the toothpick from his lips, confusion replaced the anger on his face as he scrutinized the subtle differences in the face before him—slight variations in aging lines and hair length. There was more than that, Crosshair realized as he picked out the innumerable differences.

“Crosshair…” Echo said hesitantly. Still sat on the floor, you were on full display for Echo.

Wrecker’s face fell as he glanced around Crosshair at you.

Steadying a shaky breath, you gathered what composure you could and pushed yourself up off the floor. "Calm down," you whispered, touching your sister’s shoulder as you rose beside her.

Standing there, you couldn't bring yourself to look directly at Crosshair, afraid of the disgust you might see mirrored on his face. You missed the horror breaking across him. Instead, you kept your gaze fixed on your sister, silently pleading, "Sister, please."

Snapping her hand out, your sister harshly gripped your face and forced it towards the men. “You're the ones who did this to her?” She was likely referencing the scar marking your nose or the other tiny, healed wounds your helmet had dealt you over time.

Heat scorched your face as you were forcibly put on display. You reluctantly met the eyes of Clone Force 99. Crosshair’s face was pale, his brows furrowed deeply and his mouth slightly ajar in a mix of horror and disbelief. Echo and Wrecker were in similar shades of shock. Hunter, on the other hand, looked almost regretful.

Gently removing your sister’s tight grip, you attempted to soothe her. “They didn’t know. Mother-”

“Do not blame Mother for your stupid decisions!” She screamed, gesturing a hand at you.

“Stupid decisions?” You challenged, feeling insulted. “My decisions have been for you. So I can keep you safe.”

“I didn’t tell you to do something so childish and I didn’t tell you to go and ruin your face.” You inhaled sharply at her words. She knew how to slap with more than just her hand.

Ignoring the clones, she straightened herself, her demeanor cooling into a composed facade that echoed your mother's authority. “Enough.” she stated firmly, making you straighten your posture subconsciously. “You are to come home and act as my body double at an upcoming gathering. The clones who trained you are to act as your security.” Pulling her hood up to shroud her face, you saw a glimpse of your gentle sister once more. “We will discuss your future afterwards.”

With that, she was gone.

Left alone with the squadron, you looked to the ceiling as opposed to facing them immediately.

Tech approached, saying your name. The others whipped their heads to him, the familiarity in his tone throwing them off. “Are you alright?” He asked gently.

“You knew about this?” Echo accused, turning on Tech.

“Of course I did.” Tech said quickly and dismissively.

Crosshair's hands clenched into fists repeatedly, his anger barely contained. "Was this all a game to you?" he growled, his gaze intense and accusing as he finally turned to you.

You were to weary to be angry at him. How he could ever think being pummeled everyday for weeks was anything close to a game was beyond you.

Meeting his fierce stare you offered a weak smile. It lasted only a second before it fell with your eyes. “No, never. I was sent here for training… I didn’t mean to deceive you.” Your mouth pressed into a tight line. “I’m sorry you were dragged into this.”

The room fell silent. Wrecker, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, his voice a mix of confusion and concern. "So, all this time, you were…”

“Yes,” You finished for him. “But I didn’t mean for it to happen like this. I’ve been taking all the training seriously.”

“It shows.” Echo said softly.

Hunter stepped forward. “Alright, we can sort this all out later.” He gave you a firm nod. “As a team. But right now, we have a mission.” He extended you a hand and a smirk, an offering. “The rest… you can explain on the way.”

Your chest caved at the sight. Taking his hand you choked out, “Gladly.”

Tech adjusted his goggles with a smile. “Then that settles it.” Brandishing his datapad, he started scrolling through the screen. “And I have compiled a list of questions that will clarify this entire ordeal.”

Hunter walked beside you, placing an encouraging hand on your back. “Let’s get going.”

Echo and Wrecker still looked conflicted, but nodded in agreement with Hunter's decision, and even Crosshair, though still visibly upset, did not contest.

Tech gave one final note. “All things considered, that went far better than even I could have predicted.”

@bruh-myguy-what i hope you like <3

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nipuni · 11 months

Text

My dad died yesterday, he was 63

I would like to share a little about him and our story if anyone wants to read, this is not a happy story

My parents divorced when I was three and I went to live with my mom so I saw my dad's life in snapshots, once a week at first and then once a year when he moved abroad and I would spend the summers with him. Every time I would catch up with him he would have a different partner or apartment.

My time with him was always fun, he was laid back, adventurous and open, he would let me do all kinds of crazy stuff while my mom was the strict one. He was a genius to me, he taught me how to program my own games when I was nine, he would make me take computers and appliances apart and reassemble them to teach me how they worked, he made me love science, the outdoors and travelling. He was great at teaching and cooking and driving. He worked on tours for famous musicians as a sound tech, he made 3D films for museums and theme parks when it was all very new, he was a photographer, a programmer, electrician, mechanic, artist and could play many instruments and write poetry!!

The first crack between us was when there was a huge split between my mom's side of the family and his over money and a lot of ugly truths stared coming to light. I realized that when it came to money he was willing to put himself before me and the fights between him and my mom were awful. But in the end once the dust settled we both pretended it never happened.

One weekend I went to visit him and realized his current girlfriend would stick around at last and she had a daughter almost my age!! I now had a little sister and I loved it.

A year later the country fell apart and he fled abroad along with them and even though I missed them I would visit for months at a time every year. I saw him start his life over, he started his own company and I was so proud of him!!

Everything was great for eight years, until one day he told me that my step mom and sister left him and he would sell everything and come back to the country. This was the last time I would ever hear of them, they vanished, I mourned my step sister for years. This was also when his life fell apart.

At 17 adulthood came with a lot of revelations. My mom told me that my dad had been an addict since he was very young, before I was born, my whole life, cocaine and alcohol amongst other things, and everyone around him had been putting up with it and helping him but couldn't take it anymore. He had cheated on her when they had me and had cheated on my step mom too. He would lie to get what he wanted and trusting him was getting increasingly harder.

All of my memories of him were now seen through a different lens. I felt betrayed. I could now tell every time he had been high, and knew where the money he asked of me when to, I was aware of every little lie. I was angry and frustrated at him for the pain he caused my mom and everyone around him. And for squandering the potential I knew he had, for always making the wrong decisions, one mistake after another. And I hated feeling this way the most.

After he came back to the country alone he could never recover, he would relapse, overdose, refuse rehab or any medical help. He would escape psychiatrics facilities and hospitals in the middle of the night, he was a menace!! lmao.

Our relationship was still good despite all this, different but still standing, he had always been my friend even if he wasn't the best at being a dad or partner, I would always scold him and tell him of different job opportunities I came up with for him to try out but now there was this distance between us. I became the parent of the relationship in a way and he didn't like being told what to do. I saw him spiral and I was scared for him.

I've always heard all these stories about addicts finding purpose and fighting for their loved ones, so every time he would jokingly talk to me about how high he was and seemed to enjoy it despite my warnings and pleading it made me feel like I was not enough of a reason to get better, as self centered as it may be I was a teen and I felt powerless to stop him, insignificant. People could get better for their children, but not for me.

I knew this way of thinking was flawed and selfish and he was the one struggling, I knew he was a victim. I spent the last of my teenage years and early twenties trying to fight back this feeling so I could preserve our relationship, we always kept in contact but over time he changed and was no longer the person I knew.

He became a stranger, often times incoherent and delusional, his views changed, he was paranoid, his addiction got worse and worse and now all I could feel was pity and guilt, our once good relationship was now reduced to a few interactions where he would ask me for money, I knew I was possibly funding his self destruction and he was likely lying to me but he also needed to pay for medication and so I couldn't refuse him.

I had my own life now, a husband and plans for the future. When I decided to move abroad a few years ago I knew our hug goodbye could be the last, he was broke and unstable but I thought once I was settled and had a job and a citizenship I could have enough money to get him tickets to visit and show him the life I had made for myself like he had done in my childhood.

But then Covid happened, and he would never agree to make calls. Soon after he was diagnosed with cancer, I would ask about his health and he would say he was fine. He wasn't fine, he was smoking 4 packs a day. He got the cancer removed but refused further treatment, he said he didn't have any purpose left in life and no reasons to keep living, he had a stroke and couldn't feel half his body when he was forcibly hospitalized, his cancer had spread and he hadn't been eating for a long time, he hid all this from me, I first heard it from my aunt in tears over the phone yesterday, he tried to escape the hospital in the night and had to be tied up and sedated, he never woke up.

He died alone, all that is left of his family is me and my aunt and we both live in different countries. There is nobody there to even bury him. I feel like I abandoned him. I've always known I would feel this way when this day came, in a way I've been mourning him for many years and have carried this guilt for even longer.

I had the coolest dad, cocaine took him away. I wish this had a better and uplifting message. I just wanted to get this off my chest. He taught me a lot and made me who I am, and I have a lot of great memories with him. He struggled all of his life with his mental health and despite it all he was still amazing and deserved so much better.

He always said that when he was a ghost he would follow me around, I hope he isl!! so I can live for both of us, I love you dad!! and I'm so sorry 🕯️

#personal #extremely so #tw death #tw drugs #I'm sorry for the depressing post

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bluesidez · 2 days

Note

Hi I saw your req open and I flew here ehe-

Hear me out please 😭

Miguel is a geneticist (someone who works around denetics) and sometimes he doesn't understand the programs that he 'made' and Lyla has to help him. That makes Peter B. and the spider-teens very suspicious of him.

What's even more suspicious is that once a month he leaves the Spider HQ to who-knows-where.

After some stalking investigating, they find out that every time that he leaves; he goes to a park to meet [Reader], that is the one who helped with all the tech he has at HQ.

When he returns the next day, he is confronted about it and explains that [Reader] is an old friend and he trusts them with the Multiverse secret. However Peter B. and the others obviously saw the mutual attraction between both of them so they help out Miguel confess to [Reader].

Fluff + a little suggestive with Gn Reader please ^^

Anyway drink lots of water and keep yourself healthy!! ❤❤

[Undercover Lover]

lab tester: @hikaru-sama 🩻

pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gn!Reader

summary: Miguel is willing to stop the world for you, you just want to be the small part of his world that makes it better.

content warning: fluff, longing from reader and Miguel, the spider-teens are all menaces (as in they all have chismosavirus), Peter is Peter, a little suggestive but nothing crazy, I also made Miguel’s relationship with the teens pretty adorable (Papa Miggy 🥺)

word count: 5.8k, halfway proofread (don't ask...)

a/n: This request is not outlandish in any way, btw. It's very cute! I hope you don’t mind that I added a little extra to the programming aspect. THANK YOU TO THE MIGGY SERVER FOR YOUR HELP AS ALWAYS! I have been wallowing in the chats for who knows how long. I thought it would be cute and funny. Also, I've been doing better with my water intake! I hope you're proud. 🥺

Miguel blew out a tired breath, eyes blurry after staring at the same set of files all day.

“Lyla, could you replay the scan from this morning?”

“I don’t know, can I?”

Miguel frowned as his eyes panned to the flickering yellow glow, “Are we doing this right now?”

“Doing what?” Lyla posed with her head tilted in her hand.

“Lyla. Replay the scan from Earth 450-”

“Here’s what I found on scams on 4chan.”

“I said scans not scams- what are you talking about? And what is 4chan?”

Lyla switched to a pose that mimicked The Thinker, her heart-shaped glasses morphing into ones made of stone.

Miguel shifted his weight to one side, hands on his hips as he watched Lyla float around his desk.

“Pull up the LYrate Lifeform Approximation code.”

Lyla snickers, glasses shifting to match the marks of a clown’s face, “You don’t know how to work that, buddy.”

“I didn’t ask you to tell me that, I asked you to-”

Lyla opens the file before he can finish his spiel.

“Now, what?” Lyla whispers with glee. “Gonna hack into the motherboard? Break down the firewall?”

Miguel ignored her and read through the constant formulas, coding that he's never even seen before becoming longer and longer.

Lyla popped up right in his peripheral view, pulling out one of the smaller codes to highlight, “What’s this one mean?”

Miguel squints at the line, “Something about how you respond to tone?”

“It’s my hair color,” Lyla’s voice is high and giggly like she was anticipating his completely wrong answers. “What about this one?”

“I, I don’t know. Your jacket?”

“Voice modulator,” the code danced around him as Lyla switched her voice to something of an old Hollywood star. “You’re not very good at this, tuts.”

Miguel felt a strange chill as Lyla walked around with a long white dress instead of a jacket and her brown hair in curls falling down her back. She laughed at him some more as she pulled her now, thick-rimmed triangle-shaped sunglasses to the top of her head.

“Lyla-”

Miguel’s watch jolted, a notification blaring at him. He answered with haste, mind frantic.

“Miguel? Is something up with Lyla, because I asked her to find this Mysterio’s dimension, and she started playing some wrestler’s theme song instead,” Jess huffed, throwing the villain's body over the back of her motorcycle. “Now, he won’t stop singing it.”

Miguel felt his head start to pound, “Something’s going on with her. She’s not functioning at her normal state.”

“You’re never functioning at a normal state,” Lyla sighed dramatically, arm over her head with wind blowing around her. “Always so tense!”

“Oh my god?” Jess’s eyes went wide as she took in the Lyla at Miguel’s side. “Why does she sound like that?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m shutting her down until I can fix it. Just send the Mysterio back here.”

“You can’t turn me off, Miggy! Don’t you want me to sing for you?”

“Yeah, hurry up and log her off. She’s freaking me out.” Jess ended the call with a disgusted face.

With her gone, the room was filled with Miguel’s thoughts and Lyla humming and brushing her hair in a vintage mirror, something she would have never cared to do on a regular day.

Looking at the lines of coding in front of him, there was no way he was going to find what was happening.

He reached across his desk to a new screen, searching for a certain folder. Miguel laughed to himself as he read the title.

Don’t open unless it’s ABSOLUTELY crucial to your health…and well-being. .3.

Miguel would consider this a crisis.

He tapped the folder, watching as a sprout of several different colors surrounded him. He shifted it through the lights, some of them being pictures of you and him, some of them being animated GIFs of cats, and others being helpful guides to small technological problems. He kept searching until he found a yellow tab that read “LYLA? LIGHTS OUT!”

With one click, Lyla went from twirling and singing in heels to being dormant, gone to the Spider Society. Letting out the breath he was holding, he shifted the files back into the folder and geared up to make the announcement.

“Attention Spiders,” Miguel held his watch up to his mouth. “Lyla will be down for maintenance for a couple of hours.”

He could hear the collective groan from the society all the way in his office.

“And I will try my best to get her up and running for future missions. Until then, please send any anomalies directly to Margo and stick to local crimes as well as protecting your respective neighborhoods.”

As soon as he ended the announcement, Margo was flooding his watch with back-to-back memes. Miguel remained confused watching a little girl in a cowboy hat complain to her grandpa while he dismissed her.

“I can send someone else down there to help you.”

“no because if anyone breaks my tech, it’s coming out of YOUR 🫵🏾 paycheck”

“Everything comes out of my paycheck.”

“whatever dad”

“?”

Perturbed, but not wanting to waste any more time, Miguel locked his office and called your number.

Two rings and you were picking up the phone.

“Hey, Spider-ider!”

“Hi,” Miguel refused to admit how the nickname sounded cute coming from you. “I need your help with something.”

“No ‘How are you?’ or ‘Sorry I haven’t checked on you in forever.’ Just straight to business, huh?”

“Sorry,” Miguel collected himself. “How are things? Did you manage to get the job with that tech company?”

“Why, thank you for asking, Miguel! I’m pretty good. Things are different! I did end up getting that job, but the manager is eerily creepy, so I’m trying my best to pile up the meanest HR case or try to wiggle my way into a new department. So far, the former is slowly but surely working, not sure if my sanity can take much more. How are you?”

Miguel's eyebrows shifted a bit, “You know you can just call for my help if anything goes wrong, right?”

“Miguel, you’re protecting so many people. More than I can even fathom, actually. I’m not going to ask you to stop to check on me.”

You should. He’d drop everything.

“It wouldn’t take much from my end, I could just-”

“Miguel.”

He bit his cheek, knowing you wanted to move the conversation along.

“How are you?” you asked again, tone back to normal.

“I’m neutral. Same thing as always. Now, it’s just that Lyla was really unbearable today.”

“Unbearable how?”

Miguel went into every detail, pulling in some last-minute reports from other Spiders that managed to use her before he shut her down.

“So you’re telling me she glitched out, wore an alligator head, and integrated ‘Flat Fuck Friday’ into every conversation?”

“Well, that was just one of the many cases. Is that, is that all you heard?”

“No, I got it,” you fixed your face to try and hold back your laugh. “It sounds like she hit her funny bone.”

Miguel looked up at the ceiling and back at you, “This is serious.”

“And I’m being as serious as I can be!”

“She’s causing all of this trouble because of a funny bone.”

You laugh at Miguel’s deadpan tone, “Ok, so technically it’s called a laughing virus. It’s been hitting a lot of major search engines for some reason, but Lyla is the closest to human-like AI there is, so it’s a funny bone!”

“As stupid as that is, I need your help to come fix it.”

“Aw, you need me to come check your work?”

Miguel avoided your gaze, “There is no work. I couldn’t tell one line from the next.”

“But Miguel, you were doing so good last time. What happened?”

“I-I don’t know, I thought I had one right but I mixed up tones with shades.”

“That’s still on the same playing field, so you got something right! That’s good progress, Miguel.”

“Mm.”

“I’ll be there soon. Don’t do anything crazy, although you’ll probably just loom over the desk dramatically.”

Miguel opened his mouth to rebuttal but you already ended the call with a laugh.

With truly nothing but his thoughts, he hurried to clean his space. There were a few loose wires and an empty box from the cafeteria scattered around.

By the time you were tapping the code into his office door, his platform was back on the ground and he’d just swept up some dust that managed to build in the corner of the room.

“Don’t clean up now just because I’m here,” you watched as his shoulders jumped a bit at your voice.

“I’m not,” Miguel huffs and sets the broom against the wall.

“Sure.”

Miguel comes closer to you with his hands on his hips.

You were probably the main reason that Lyla was the way she was, sarcastic and immature.

The only difference was Miguel could mute Lyla or switch modes for some peace. For you? It was non-stop. The only way he knew how to get you to stop was a method that’s been crowding his dreams ever since he met you.

He saw your lips moving at a mile per minute, but nothing was really reaching his ears.

They looked so soft, so perfect. He wondered if he should just let the society function on its own for just a few more hours.

“Miguel!” You waved your hands in front of him. “Lyla being down has really stressed you out, huh? You’re unfocused.”

He cleared his throat, “I still have a lot of work to do.”

“Well, let’s get to it!”

Miguel moved so you could walk to his desk, heart racing.

Whatever it was you were about to try to teach him wasn’t going to stick. He just knew it.

“Hey, Miguel! You know, I was wondering if we could implement some type of spider-baby daycare? MJ is pretty busy these days,” Peter strided into Miguel’s office with a wiggly Mayday strapped to his chest.

The platform was down, but the serious figure was nowhere to be found.

“Miguel?”

Peter tried to feel him out, but there’s no way anyone could miss Miguel in plain sight.

“Hm,” Peter put two fingers out for Mayday grab. She squealed glee, taking one finger to chew on. “If I were a Miguel, where would I be?”

He pondered through the halls, eventually finding himself at the entrance of the cafeteria. Mayday looked up almost as if she was disappointed.

“I need fuel to think!”

Peter ran down the line grabbing his usual: a 2099 burger, a large fry, and a medium cola, he’s dieting!

At the end of the line, a familiar voice called his name.

“Hey, kiddo! How’s it going?” Peter made his way to the table occupied by the younger spider crew.

Miles squinted at him, “Not a kid, but it’s going good! Have you seen Miguel? He was supposed to be training me an hour ago, but he’s not answering his watch.”

“Funny that you say that,” Peter stuffed his mouth with a handful of fries. “Went to his office and he wasn’t there.”

“What is with him and disappearing lately? It’s not like him,” Gwen mumbled. “I was supposed to report to him not too long ago and he wasn’t here.”

“Time is an enigma,” Hobie was tuning his guitar. “Glad he’s finally taking advantage of it instead of chatting about doomsday.”

“True, but he missed part of the big party we planned three months ago, too,” Pavitr supplied.

The table stopped and stared at Pav with various deadpan looks.

“What? He promised he’d try my special dish! He never breaks our promises.”

“He did pile a load of work on me when Lyla broke. Usually, he would come down and help me, but he said he was busy fixing her,” Margo turned to Peter.

The table sat and pondered for just a second then the teens started spouting out nonsense.

“He’s retiring!”

“He’s going to give HQ up.”

“He’s not going to another universe again, right?”

“He’s finally taking breaks.”

“He’s dying!”

Again, the table stopped to look at Pavitr.

“False alarm?”

“Look,” Peter held his hands up. “I don’t think it’s any of that.”

“What makes you so sure?” Gwen sounded nervous.

“Uh, he would tell me!”

Miles snickered at that which caused Mayday to fall into a fit of laughter.

“What? He’s told me things before. We’re buddies!”

“And where is your so-called buddy right now?” Margo folded her arms.

“Touche,” Peter took a giant slurp of his drink, cupping a hand under it to make sure nothing dripped on Mayday’s head. “But don’t you have a way to find him?”

“The Grumpy GPS? Yeah, but I’ve never used it because he’s always here,” Margo sighs.

“How about the next time he disappears, you let us know?” Gwen suggested.

“Love it,” Hobie fist bumps Gwen.

Miles scratched his neck, “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“Says the guy that snuck into the Spider Society,” Pavitr shook his head.

“That’s different.”

“Is it?” Gwen raised her eyebrow. “Margo is on Miguel-duty. We’re going to get to the bottom of this, right guys?”

Everyone nodded their head in determination.

Peter smiled. He’s still got this mentor thing down!

Margo was down near the Go-Home-Machine running Style Savvy through an emulator.

“That is so ugly,” she sang as she watched another contestant’s outfit go down the runway.

Her judging was interrupted by a dancing cartoon spider with bushy eyebrows.

She paused the game and stretched her arms to the other side of the room to give everyone a call, “Mission ‘Where is the Old Man?’ is up and running. The Grumpy GPS has been added to you guys’ gizmos. I’ve got everything ready to hack.”

“It sounds like we’re doing a lot more than tracking,” Hobie mumbled.

“But what if he actually is dying?” Gwen was lacing up her ballet shoes tight. “He would tell us, right?”

“Oh, but when I said that, it sounded crazy,” Pavitr pulled his mask down. “The double standards are appalling.”

“He could be just avoiding us. Can’t say it hasn’t happened before,” Miles’ voice was low and testy.

“He wasn’t avoiding you, Miles, he was just…projecting,” Gwen said matter-of-factly.

“Are we back on this? Sending the entire society after me is projecting. Missing our training sessions that he set up multiple times? That’s just foul.”

Gwen and Miles went back and forth, fussing over little things.

“They’re bickering again. How cute,” Pavitr stage-whispered.

“1 mission on Miles winning?” Hobie asked.

Pavitr thought for a second, “Deal.”

“You’ll probably be the most upset if he really is sick,” Gwen comments.

“Says who? I’m not worried,” Miles zipped up his jacket halfway.

“Then why are you bouncing around like that, Miles.”

Hobie sighed while Pavitr cheered.

“If you guys are done, Miguel’s moving on foot heading down 5th. I pinned a checkpoint,” Margo sent the coordinates to their watches.

“Time to go see if big man’s a killer,” Hobie yawned. “Or not.”

Peter felt the ground shake under him, hair rising on the back of his neck. His senses were screaming at him to turn around.

The thing is, if he turned around, he'd lose track on Miguel who was currently inside of the very building he was standing on top of.

The shaking grew, pebbles and vent plates rattling around him, then everything fell back into place.

One, two, thre, four pairs of feet hit the ground.

“Where’s Margo?” Peter asked, eyes not leaving the ground under him.

“In our ears singing,” Gwen groaned. “Where’s Mayday?”

“Enjoying a lovely Mommy-Daughter date with MJ and her girlfriends. Glad to have you all join me.”

“How’d you know he was going to be here?” Hobie crossed his arms.

“Like I said, buddies!”

“You waited outside of his office, didn’t you?” Pavitr pointed his finger at Peter.

Peter turned around with an offended face, “Details-schmetails!”

“Well, do you have any idea what he’s up to now?” Gwen put a hand on her hip.

“Well, we’re on the roof of an apartment, super expensive might I add, and I’m assuming his apartment is here. So maybe he’s just getting a nap in.”

“He’s on the move,” Margo’s voice buzzed through all of the teens' ears and they ran to the edge of the building, practically pushing Peter to the side.

“He’s wearing normal clothes for once,” Gwen’s voice was shocked.

“His trousers are quite nice,” Hobie nodded as if he was looking at a magazine.

“It’s so…weird,” Miles shuddered. “I’ve never seen him in anything else but his suit.”

“He wore a nice button-down to my Zoom celebration once,” Margo hummed.

“Guys?” Pavitr’s voice went high. “Where’s Peter?”

The three of them turned around to see a missing pink-robed Spider.

“Oh, come on!” Miles jumped from the roof to the next one, following the pink fluff. Miguel was walking fast on the sidewalk and Peter was keeping his trail from up high.

“Really, Peter?” Gwen swung alongside the two with the rest right on their tails. “Some mentor you are.”

“I’m a great teacher! You’re all catching on quite well,” Peter swung lower as Miguel crossed the street.

Colors flew across the sky, contrasting with the constant grays and small specs of green of Nueva York. Scaling from building to building was a lot easier with flying cars added to the mix, but it was a little odd to see wobbling vehicles every now and then.

“I think you guys should slow it down. His pace changed,” Margo noted. “He’s stopping at…a park? Didn’t know they still had those here.”

With a sturdy pull, Miles used his web to stop Peeter from running any further and the now quintet landed on the ground a safe distance from the park.

“A little dreary for a park, innit?” One eye on Hobie’s mask went higher than the other.

From where they were hiding, steel statues stood tall, tufts of greenery growing up the structure. There was more pavement than grass and the walkways contained several dips and turns.

“I think there’s some flare to it,” Miles countered. “Could use a lot more color.”

They quieted down as they watched Miguel find an empty bench. He sat down and started to rub his hands against his pants. He sat for a minute or so before he checked his watch and his leg started to bounce.

“Is he waiting on someone?” Gwen whispered.

“Oh, I wonder who it could be?” Pav whispered back.

“Why are you guys whispering?” Margo paused her side mission of trying to find any security cameras in the area.

“Doesn’t he have super-hearing?” Miles asked.

“Over this much noise?” Hobie brought the talking level back to normal. “If he doesn’t suspect us of following him, there’s no need for him to focus on us.”

After about five minutes of watching and making a game out of how many times can Miguel check his clothes, with Peter mumbling about how the pants aren’t going to get any looser with those thighs, everyone holds their breath as they watch someone take a seat next to him.

Miguel’s entire demeanor changed.

His face lit up, his back straightened, and the tension from his body fell.

“No way,” Pavitr whispered excitedly. “Guys!”

“What’s going on? I still can’t get into the security cams,” Margo’s voice was impatient.

“Miguel…has a partner?” Gwen tilted her head watching the two react. The mystery person got up to hug Miguel as he sat on the bench. He hesitated a bit, fingers twitching awkwardly before he hugged them back. “Or not.”

“If one of you could get closer, I could pitch the sound to everyone. And, I could see!”

Everyone turned to Miles.

“Why is everybody looking at me?”

“You can turn invisible, genius,” Gwen said.

He just sighed and faded from head to toe.

“How’s it going Spidey?” you lean back from your hug to look down at him. Your hands rub his shoulders. “You look nice today.”

Miguel averted his eyes, “You’re not supposed to call me that-”

“Outside of HQ or our phone calls. I know, I know. Seriously though, why are you so dressed up today? Got a hot date waiting?”

Miguel tilted his head, “Do I really look nice?”

The shirt he was wearing was barely hiding anything, any tighter and it would have been considered a muscle tee. It was tucked into some slacks with a belt that made his tiny waist even smaller. The pants hugged his thighs just enough.

“Yeah!” More than he could imagine.

“Thanks,” he smiled a bit. “There’s no hot date. Just wearing something casual.”

Your shoulders lifted at the words.

“Cool, cool.”

“You look nice, as well.”

“Really?” you looked down at your last-minute outfit. Some gray joggers you found at a thrift store and a hoodie you’re almost certain has a random bleach stain somewhere on the back. “You’re digging the midnight chic?”

“Midnight chic?”

“Yeah, an outfit you wear when going out for a snack in the middle of the night.”

Miguel pursed his lips, “It looks soft. Comfortable.”

You involuntarily gripped your bag tighter, watching Miguel’s eyes roam you from the neck down.

Lately, he’s been saying things that make your stomach flutter, from being willing to beat up your boss to fussing at you for running errands so late to remembering small details from months ago.

Only recently has his eyes began to wander. He doesn’t catch on as fast when you explain things to him. You’ve caught him staring at you while you’re looking at other things. His smile lingered a little longer. His hands were a lot more careful. Sometimes, he’d tense up when you touched him.

It was all so confusing and the feelings you’ve pushed down for years have crawled their way back up, waiting at the back of your tongue to be announced.

Still, you were just here to help him for as long as he needed you. Nothing more, nothing less.

You cleared your throat, “Okay so, you said you needed help with…Excel?”

“Mm hm,” Miguel nodded and locked his eyes back on your face.

You pulled your laptop, turning up the brightness so that the scenery wouldn’t shoot straight through the transparent device.

“So, this program is like, extremely old.”

“I know, but it's a middle ground for all of the Spiders. Anything newer would be too much for about a fourth of them and anything older would take ages for anyone to complete.”

“Got it,” you inch close enough to Miguel for his cologne to dance around you. He leaned closer to squint at your laptop and you had to will your hands to not shake like jelly. “So, the program is actually pretty simple. You just enter formulas, charts, numbers, or information in these boxes. There’s a lot more manual work than we’re used to, but it won’t take much to get used to.”

You walked Miguel through everything you’ve taught yourself over the past few days. Having him put in formulas and waiting for the result.

“Like this?”

“Almost! You’re missing a letter here.”

“Can you go over it again?”

Miguel's hands would hover over the keyboard, eyes focused and nose scrunched. Sometimes you would fight the screaming in your head and place your hands over his, helping him punch certain numbers in.

“Miguel, I think you’re messing with me. We’ve repeated this same thing on four other sheets now. I know you’re smarter than that.”

He poked his tongue in his cheek, “I’m just quadruple checking. Gotta teach this to some older people.”

“Fine,” you snort. “One more time and then I have to get ready to go.”

“Already?” Miguel turned to you. “I thought you didn’t have to be somewhere until this evening.”

“I don’t, but I can’t go looking like this. You spent 30 minutes arguing with me about the interface. Don’t you have to go back to HQ soon?”

“No.”

There was a noise behind you. You turn around to see nothing but a curved wall embedded with vines.

You put your heart to your chest, “God, I thought that was a reporter or something. Just the wind I suppose.”

Miguel’s eyes stayed planted on the empty space, “On second thought, let me walk you there. Don’t want any surprises.”

“So you don’t need me to go over this for the fifth time?”

“Nope,” Miguel grinned down at you. “I got it the first time, actually.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh as you hit his arm. He doesn’t even flinch. “You’re such a jerk.”

He looked around and got behind you to squat down, tapping on his gizmo. You could only hide so much of him. “Would a jerk swing you to your apartment?”

You look up at him equipped with his mask.

“He probably would, actually.”

“Aw,” Miguel said, red marks for eyes holding so much sadness. “Oh well.”

You yell as he yanks you up by the waist and shoots his web up to the nearest flying car.

“Miles! You almost screwed us over!” Margo did her best to wipe their trace.

“I panicked!” Miles tried to explain himself as he ran on the windows of a skyscraper.

“For what?” Gwen flipped as she connected from one structure to the next. “It was so clear that he meant that he wanted to be with whoever that was, not because he wants to quit HQ.”

“Seeing him like that feels like we met a new man,” Hobie said. His boots were light in the air. “Don’t like it.”

“You say that like he doesn’t let you get away with everything,” Pavitr said.

“Like what?”

“Like giving away food to the street cleaners.”

“Or like pasting your band stickers everywhere.”

“Or painting an ACAB mural.”

“To be fair, Miguel aligns with every single one of those things,” Hobie shrugged.

“This is great and all, but talk about a major fail,” Peter sighed. “He clearly needs a wingman.”

“I thought he did pretty good!” Miles said.

The rest of the group made a range of judging noises.

“His game definitely needs some work and he’s already on his way back to HQ, so hurry it up, guys. We need to hustle and huddle.”

Miguel was at his dock again, preparing to go check out the anomalies of the week.

He was back doing the thing that distracted him most: thinking about you.

Yesterday only confirmed what he’s been thinking about ever since you opened your mouth.

He’s absolutely infatuated with you.

At first, he thought it was a fluke, a blip in his timeline. No matter how many times your jokes made him chuckle or your smile brought him warmth, he wasn’t going to lean into it.

But then, you called him one night and your voice brought him back from the darkness that was consuming him. Stories of your life, an exchange of nostalgia, a whisper of hope for the future, and the confirmation that he was more than the error in time that he thought he was.

You’re something that he more than adored.

And yet, he still hasn’t figured out how to tell you.

He wanted more than the monthly meetups to refresh his memory on the stupid tech that kept this building running.

Truthfully, he could call Gabriel, or worst case scenario, Xina for help, but every time he got a chance it was your name that crossed his mind.

Miguel sighed as he started to shut some tabs down.

“Spiders incoming,” Lyla popped up to inform him.

Miguel saw the gaggle of teens plus Peter walking to his office.

“Here we go,” he grumbled.

“Turn that frown upside-down! Company is always good,” Lyla said.

Before Peter can open his mouth Miguel is beating him to it.

“What do you want?”

“Ouch!” Peter laughed. “Not up for a bit of family bonding time?”

“Not with you.”

“Oh c’mon, Miguel,” Peter inches forward as Miguel’s platform comes down. “Hear us out.”

“Make it quick.”

The teens all stared at Peter who looked back and forth between them.

“Do any of you not know what the word ‘quick’ means?” Miguel asked with irritation lining his voice.

“Well,” Miles started.

“You see, we were thinking that you might need some help,” Gwen finishes.

Miguel crossed his arms, “Help with what.”

“Your sad flirting,” Hobie says.

“What?”

“You know,” Peter puts his arm around Miguel’s shoulders. “You need a wingman!”

Miguel’s frown grew deeper, “What are you talking about? Did you guys spy on me?”

Six voices overloaded Miguel’s eardrums, all explaining their part of some convoluted scheme.

“Alright, alight! Quiet!” Miguel holds his hands out. “Margo!”

Miguel pinned his eyes to her with his eyebrows pinched.

She danced from foot to foot, face scrunched, “We just! We were worried about you so we followed you and saw you making googly eyes at someone!” The words spilled out of her like water.

Everyone but Hobie looked at Margo incredulously.

“What?” she whined. “He was giving me his disappointed look. The disappointment was torturing me!”

Miguel turned and paced, pinching his nose as he whispered to himself.

“Miguel, they could help you!” Lyla said cheerfully. “You’ve only been crushing on them for what…multiple years?”

“Lyla!”

“Multiple years? No wonder you’re always so tense. That’s pretty sad, bro,” Pavitr hummed.

Miguel pointed his finger, “Don’t bro me.”

“Still seeking authority in his moment of weakness. Something’s got to give,” Hobie went to lean on a wall.

“We really thought something terrible was going on,” Miles’ shoulders drop. “You also go M.I.A. whenever you have a problem.”

“We just wanted to help,” Gwen supplied.

“Hey man, don’t blame the kids for this one, alright?” Peter’s voice lowered so only the two of them could hear it, albeit a bit useless in a room full of power-holding teens. “Say the word and we’ll stay out of it, but the kids deserve to know why you were canceling on them at least.”

Miguel looked at Peter with an exasperated face before looking at the teens, three of which looked like they were about to cry.

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and let out a deep breath, “I’m not sick.”

“But lovesick?” Margo asked.

He gave her a tired look, “Yes.”

“Well why not say that instead of just disappearing?”

“They’re the one who helped make the tech for this society. Without them, there would be no updated gizmos, no updated Lyla, no new ideas. Every time I left it was to…get insight on something here. To fix broken tech.”

“And to stare in their face,” Pavitr snickered.

Miguel panned his eyes to the floor, too embarrassed to admit it.

“What’s the hold up in telling them how you feel?” Peter asked. “There’s no time like the present.”

“Don’t tell me yesterday was an example of what happens when you try to confess?” Gwen’s face twisted up, teeth clenched in second-hand embarrassment.

Miguel’s silence was enough of an answer.

“Tío,” Miles closed his eyes then looked back up dramatically with his hands out. “¡Vamo’! Sácale, llévale al cine.”

Lyla put a spotlight on Miles and held a microphone out to him while Miguel groaned.

“Cómprale, un ramo de flores!”

“Ya no puédo mas,” Miguel swiped through the holographic mic. “Eso no va a funcionar.”

Miles slumped, “But how do you know? You haven’t even tried! Bañate, junto con el-”

“Don’t finish that song, Miles,” Miguel’s fingers went to his temples.

“You should really listen to the lyrics-”

“Why don’t we help you win them over?” Margo stood in between the two, ending the squabble. “It’s clear that they seem to like you too.”

Miguel's eyes went softer staring at Margo’s pleading face, “How do you know?”

“We quite literally saw it,” Hobie spoke as if Miguel lost his mind. “No one ever talks to you that sweet.”

The teens all nodded their head in unison and Peter did a horrible job at hiding his laugh.

Hobie wasn’t done, “Don’t let someone like that slip through your fingers.”

Miguel was at the park again, dressed up even more than last time. An open navy button-down was tucked into his pants, his slacks were dark gray, and he had on one of the more expensive pairs of dress shoes he owned. A chain he borrowed from Gabriel adorned his neck and he let his hair natural and loose for once.

Under Miles’ advice, he did buy some flowers. Hobie told him to remain calm, Gwen told him to just talk, Pavitr gave him a bullet point list of what and what not to do, and Margo told him that he was the best no matter how the confession turned out.

Peter went on and on about the importance of love and relationships but Miguel was never inclined to listen to him. He did keep the comment about letting you know how much he means to you to heart, though.

He was so in his own thoughts when you showed up in front of him that he didn’t even notice you at first.

He jumped when you tapped his shoulder.

“Woah, it’s just me. And you’re super dressed up today. What’s the occasion? I’m not taking ‘casual’ for an answer this time.”

Miguel swallowed dryly, grip on the bouquet of cool-toned flowers almost enough to wilt the stems.

“Flowers?” your eyes went to his hand.

“Yeah, um.”

Just breathe, Miguel!

Margo’s perky reminders sounded off in Miguel’s head.

“I brought them for you,” Miguel placed them in your hands.

“Oh!” your face lit up. “These are beautiful. Thank you so much. I didn’t get you anything, though. I didn’t know we were bringing gifts today.”

“No need. I wanted to get them because,” Miguel felt his throat closing in. “I really, really like you.”

The smile on your face dropped as you stared at him.

“It’s been particularly hard over the past years to try to focus without you running through my thoughts and I don’t want the fear of myself or my circumstance to stop me from having a chance to be with you.”

Maybe his ears could pick up how fast your heart was going, too.

“So if you’re willing, will you please go out with me?”

You dropped the flowers and brought him in for a tight hug.

“Are you kidding me? Of course, I’ll go out with you.”

Miguel was quick to wrap his arms around you today, burying his face in your neck, “No hesitation?”

“I’ve been wanting and honestly, waiting for one of us to make a move for years. You’re always so busy, so I was too nervous to even bother,” you look back at Miguel’s face, smiling from ear to ear.

“Sorry to keep you waiting then.”

You looked from his lips to his eyes, “Can we skip a few steps?”

“Such as?”

You pushed forward, melting into him as you slotted his lips against yours, head full of warmth and clouds. Miguel matched your pace, hand on your back as he pressed against you. When he opened your lips you pulled back, breath dancing against his.

“Swing me to my apartment?”

Miguel smirked, “Always.”

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