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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

Note

This one is easy because I’m a nice pal 😔...unlike "some people" 😶

Sugar Daddy! Bruce Wayne

Or CEO! Thor

Alrighty, maybe I... bent this one a bit?

Where the streets have no name

Summary: A certain vigilante becomes your personal protector.

Character: Bruce Wayne/Batman

Warnings: houselessness, self-hate, power imbalance.

Please, if you might, leave some feedback :) I truly appreciate it because I've not written Bruce outside my Regency AU.

The streets of Gotham are quiet but still awake. No sleep is found in the depths of the grim city, not for the sinister that languish there. Or you.

You lean into the side of the slimy metal, the rust catching on the stained blanket slung around your shoulders, a measly shield against the evening chill. Your breath fogs damply into the air as the stink of trash curdles your stomach. It's the best you'll do for the night and you're too tired to make it to the shelter.

It’s not the worst place you’ve slept. The alley is mostly forgotten if a little grimy. The stink of rot itself is enough to keep away most. You close your eyes and pull down your beanie, your finger catches in the hole around the rolled edge. You’re careful not to tear it further and cross your arms as you settle into the nook of the brick wall and dumpster.

You’re immune to the distant shatter of glass and the greedy squeaking of rats as they swarm into the dumpster. Cars honking against the intrusion of thieving hands and hollers of the unsober and unsavoury.

Soles hammer on the pavement, close, and your ears prick up as they near the mouth of the alley. They’ll pass by.

They don’t.

You hold your breath as the heavy panting and coughs of the sprinter enter the narrow space, shoes crunching gravel and rubble. “Shit, shit, shit…” the man’s coarse whisper drifts towards you. You bend your legs tighter to keep hidden behind the dumpster. “Fucking–”

An odd flap comes from overhead and a sudden crashing impact that shifts the metal bin on its wheels. You swallow a gasp as another set of footsteps scratch on the pavement, the first man whimpering as the wind is knocked from him.

“Was it worth it?” A deep voice grinds in the second’s throat, “an old lady’s purse?”

“Get the fuck off me, you freak,” the other audibly struggles as his last word is crushed from his windpipe.

An unnatural clunk sounds followed by the weight of a body against the ground. The sound of bone on brick makes your stomach churn as you tuck your head down and curl your shoulders. Just go. Just go. I’m not here.

There is only the steady breath of the accoster from the other side of the dumpster. You don’t dare to look. Don’t move an inch.

“Who’s here?” The rocky timbre slices the air.

You cover your head with your arms and huddle down. Please, please, please…

Footsteps scrape across the cracked pavement as you cower. The shadow darkens your existence as it crests the edge of the dumpster. You remain as you are, shaking beneath the man’s presence.

“Hm,” the syllable rolls in his throat.

“Please,” you croak and raise a palm, keeping your head down, “please, I’m just tryna sleep. Please–”

There’s a soft rustle and a click. A cold glove presses to the back of your hand and folds your hand over the cylindrical shape. You whimper and open your eyes, lifting your chin to look at the ominous silhouette shrouded in black. The dark peaks of his cowl draw your eyes. The Batman.

“Hold onto this,” he says, “keep yourself safe.”

You say nothing as he holds your hand around the object until you grip it yourself. He lets you go and stands, his cape sweeping air around his figure.

“Police will be here soon,” he snarls, “you should go.”

You just stare at him. He pauses and peers down at you past his shoulder as he faces the end of the alley.

“I can drop you at a shelter,” he offers and you turn your head side to side slowly.

You push your hand against the wall and stand stiffly. He watches you placidly and you lower the cylinder to your side. It’s light and smooth.

He says nothing as he looks up and lifts his arm. In an instant, he’s repelled upwards and a whir follows him into the sky as he lands on the fire escape with a quaking clatter.

You hear the sirens and peer down the alley. The other man, the criminal, is on the ground, hands cuffed behind his back as he lays unconscious. You cautiously walk down the pavement and peek both ways before emerging. The bridge isn’t too far.

As you walk down the street, passing beneath the cones of light cast from tall poles, you examine the unexpected gift. Your thumb hits a mechanism, barely noticeable to the naked eye and easily hidden in the night.

The club expands and you stop as you hold it out. A night stick. That would definitely keep the goons off, hopefully scare them before you have to use it.

You look up as the moonlight shifts and you see the vigilante in his prowl, hopping across rooftops. A laugh traps in your throat; does he really think he can save Gotham handing out weapons?

🦇

You don’t notice it until days later.

The shelter cot is hard beneath you as you hide the night stick under your pillow, rather your bag full of measly possessions. You’ve learned to sleep with it under your head, whether inside or out. You rub your sore neck as you lean forward, legs bent over the edge as you rest your elbows above your knees.

You groan, sore from days of sleeping in the street. The shelter had one spot left for the night, the rain driving in the itinerant. You unzip your jacket and tug at the sleeve, pausing at the shape hidden along the cuff. You glance around at the drugged out and dozing.

You tilt your chin down as you brush your thumb around the pin, shaped like a bat. You turn out the cuff and check the other side, trying to dislodge the flat circle. As you pick at it, it flashes red. What the fuck?

Why would he do that? What is it? You can’t just toss the jacket, it’s your only one and it's getting colder. Goddamn it, you need a smoke.

You get up and leave your scarf across your cot, hauling up your bag and hiding the club inside. It’s expendable enough to leave as a marker. If anyone even bothers to notice and keep off your bed. You sigh and fumble in the side pocket of your bag, a crumpled carton with one cigarette left.

You go through the rear door and stand under the eaves as they drip, just out of the pouring rain. You fish around and find your pack of matches. You drag one over the rough strip but it bends and snaps in your grasp. You try the next and it curls. They’re wet.

You toss the packet and snarl. God fucking dammit. You lost your lighter days ago.

“Smoking’s bad for you,” the voice startles you as the cigarette dangles from your lips. You take the smoke in your hand and press yourself to the wall as the tall figure emerges from the shadows, “so’s sleeping under the bridge.”

“You’re following me,” you croak out.

“Protecting you,” he asserts as he stands in the rain, the water slaking down his cape, “that’s what I do.”

“There’s hundreds like me,” you put the smoke back between your lips but pull it back out as you recall your lack of flame, “what about them?”

“I protect Gotham,” he insists.

“Mmm,” you hum, “you got a light?”

“Like I said, it’s bad for you.”

You stare at him and huff. You shove the stick back into the carton and bury it in your dingy knapsack.

“Take it off,” you say. He doesn’t react. You hold out your arm and show him the red flash in your sleeve, “please, this is my only coat, I need it.”

Silent, he makes no move, watching you. You don’t understand.

“I kept the cockroaches away last night,” he says, “they like to crawl under the bridge looking for mice like you.”

“What do you–”

“There was a man watching you–”

“Like you?”

“I threw him in the river.”

You’re frustrated by the odd dialogue, not quite sure how to respond, more confused as to why this batty avenger latched onto you. You cross your arms and shiver as the rain adds to the nip of the air.

“Do I say thank you?”

He doesn’t answer. Again. He steps towards you and you flinch, backing up into the wall. He takes your arm and pinches the pin on your cuff. It retracts and he catches it in his gauntlet. He tucks it away in one of the square pouches at his waist, looming over you as he makes no retreat.

“I’ll keep an eye out,” he says as he snaps open another pocket, “get a new jacket.”

He holds out a bundle of bills, folded neatly into an elastic. You frown and shake your head.

“A hot meal,” he continues and hooks his fingers into the loose pocket of your coat, “a hotel room. Get washed up.”

“I can’t–”

“I hear Wayne Continental has soft blankets,” he pats your pocket and shifts back on his heel.

“I don’t want your pity–”

“No, but you have my interest,” he spins and faces the wet street.

Once more, he disappears into the sky, his cape flapping up into the darkness as you stand dumbly against the wall. You can’t stay, not with that much money on you. And how can you resist the promise of a real bed?

🦇

The attendant leaves the tray on the table and you hand them a tip. It feels like wasted money but it’s not your own anyhow. He leaves and the door clicks loudly.

You hug yourself in the fluffy robe, the fresh scent of the hotel soap wafting from your skin. It’s been a while since you’ve been clean, or warm, or safe.

You lift the metal cover from the plate and the smell of the prime rib makes your mouth water. You collapse into your chair, forgetting all reticence as you grab the fork and knife, sliding the tray closer as your stomach whines loudly. You slice into the meat and greedily devour each bite, scooping up the seasoned potatoes just as ravenously.

When you finish, your insides ache from the richness, near bursting at the healthy portions. You cover the remnants with the metal lid and pour the crackling Coke into the tall glass. You gulp it down until it bubbles back up in hot belches.

You set the glass down as your body grows heavy from your sated appetite and you begin to tremble. You rest your elbows on the table and hold your head as you cry, bawling in disbelief.

One night. One night of warmth, of relief. You’ll take it. It’s worth more than any dollar.

Finally, you manage to suck back the onslaught and get up from the table. You shudder as you go to the window and look out over the city. The view is very different from there. It’s almost beautiful.

You press your forehead to the cool glass and sigh. You close your eyes. Just that moment of peace. You want to remember that.

A knock startles you away from the window and you recoil. You cross the room and peer through the peephole, wondering if they’ve realised you don’t belong. If your money is no good. You open the door to the same attendant as before.

“Miss,” he smiles as he stands behind his cart, “your dessert.”

“My– I didn’t order–”

“Mr. Wayne has sent it as a gratuity,” he declares.

“Mr. Wayne?” You swallow.

“He owns the hotel, miss.”

“I know,” you say thinly as you back up and let him enter.

You hover as he clears what’s left of your dinner and replaces it with another platter and a silver bucket of champagne on ice. You rub your cheek as you keep an arm across your chest protectively. You thank him as you follow him to the door. He refuses a second tip.

Alone, again, you’re reluctant to touch the treat. How long has it been since you had dessert? Sometimes the shelter had cookies but they always tasted like chalk. You pace around, looking at the bed longingly. You could just go to sleep but it would be wrong to waste the food.

Another rap on the door, this one softer. You run your sweaty hands down the front of the robe and once more cross to the door. This time, you don’t bother peeking through the hole.

A man awaits you on the other side, the glimmer of a smirk in the line of his lips, a sparkle in his dark eyes. He wears a dark suit that better fits the grandeur of the hotel. You recognise him from the faded prints of newspapers. Bruce Wayne.

“Uh hello,” you murmur blankly, “I think you have the wrong room.”

He says your name and you wince. You knew you should’ve given an alias. Was he hear to kick you out himself? To clear the street rat back to the sewer.

“Did dessert arrive?” He asks in your speechless lull.

“Dessert?” Your heart throbs.

He smooths his tie as he grins. You notice the split in his knuckles though he doesn’t show an ounce of pain. You smile, clueless.

“Um,” you’re entirely confused.

“Can I come in and explain?” He asks.

“It’s your hotel.”

“I suppose,” he shrugs, “but may I?”

You fold your arms over your middle again and back up, “okay, but if you want me to leave you can just ask–”

He chuckles as he steps inside, unhooking the single button on his jacket. “I would if I wanted that.”

He closes the door as he looks around, “we have an executive suite available, I’ll be sure to have them upgrade you in the morning.”

“I… I’m only here for the night,” you say.

“We’ll see, please, sit,” he goes to the table and places his hand on the back of the chair.

You go to him and lower yourself into the chair. You pick at the robe as he uncovers the tray, revealing two delectable slices of cheesecake coated with a berry coulis. Your hand brushes up to your chin and you tap your fingers on your lip.

He puts a plate in front of you and one before his own chair. He uncorks the wine and saves the bubbles with the first flute, filling both before he takes a seat. He drags the chair closer as he sits sideways.

“Please, eat,” he insists.

“I’m kind of… full,” you lift the fork anyway, twirling it nervously.

You look at his hand as it rests on the table top not far from your plate. He balls his fingers to a fist and grunts as he notices. You meet his eyes and he smiles.

“I’ve had worse,” he retracts his hand as he hooks his opposite elbow over the back of the chair.

You cut into the cake with your fork to keep yourself calm. He watches you calmly and you can’t help a hum as you taste it. He nudges the wine closer as you swallow.

“I’m glad you made it, I know the shelter’s a bit far,” he says.

You choke and drop your fork. You touch your throat as you force down the last few crumbs in your mouth. He takes the glass of champagne and holds it out to you. You don’t know what else to do but accept and wash away the grittiness.

“How do you know?” You sputter through the lingering tanginess of wine.

He smirks and tilts his head. You bat your lashes and scoff. He cups his hand as if to say, guess. No, he’s not. He can’t be.

“Like I said,” he sits straight and reaches to the middle of his shirt, undoing a few buttons and pulling apart the fabric to show a black splotch on his stomach, “I’ve had worse. Comes with the territory.”

“You’re not– you can’t be–”

He pokes his tongue against his cheek as he buttons up his shirt, “now you know my secret, you won’t feel so… off balance.”

“Like anyone would believe me,” you shake your head, “you’re telling me because you know that.”

His mouth slants, “maybe, but not entirely.”

You sit back and run your thumbnail along the creases of your palm, “why am I here?”

“Do you not like it?” He wonders and you flick your eyes up derisively. He gives a guilty smile, “alright, I said I’d explain. We both have something to offer the other.”

You shrink back and fold your hands over your chest, “we do?”

“Yes,” he continues, “you don’t belong out there. I can keep you safe, comfortable,” he looks around at the room, “and you can keep me… happy.”

You glare past him at the wall as your eyes well in humiliation, “and you think that’s what I am, because I was on the street?”

“No, and it wouldn’t matter to me if you were,” he says softly, “you have every right to be offended, and it’s your choice. Maybe you only stay one night, sleep with a full belly and go back out there. Or you can say yes and go to bed every night, warm, wanted, with me.”

You clench your jaw and issue a shaky breath. You suck in your cheek and peek over at the window. You think of the stinking alleys, the whispered voices, the restless nights listening for the creep of some stranger.

Out there, it’s dark and dangerous, in here, it’s bright and hopeful. You’re worth nothing out there, but you could find value here. At least, a semblance of dignity.

“Can I think about it?” You ask as you look at him at last.

“We have all night and a whole bottle,” he shifts closer and reaches for your fork, “think about it.”

He cuts through the tender cake and scoops it onto the fork. He holds it before your mouth as he leans forward. You look down at the reddish coulis and your tongue tingles for a taste. You open your mouth and let him slip the fork through.

“If you do go back,” he says as his eyes cling to your lips, “I’ll still keep you safe.”

#bruce wayne #dark bruce wayne #dark!bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #batman #dc #dcu #batman x reader

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swiftfootedachilles · 11 months

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*vibrating intensely* hi please tell me your autistic Mickey headcanons I'm collecting them

ohhhh i have so many thoughts

ive already talked about this ad nauseum previously but i always have time to discuss my favorites autist

his hatred of sleeves is totally an autistic thing. he just hates sleeves, specifically anything thats not long sleeved or sleeveless

he seems to prefer warm weather. he bundles up sooo much in the winter and he talks about moving back to mexico in s11. he would rather go back to prison than move any more north than chicago

i am once again mentioning that compulsory heterosexuality is absolutely part of mickeys masking. he seems to not gaf about masking about a lot of "typical" autistic things like not understanding social cues/rules or lacking conversation skills. a lot of his masking is more survival based like seeming straight and masculine and tough

^ which makes sense that when he starts unmasking, he likes patterned/hawaiian shirts :') he loves how visually simulating they are and he can tolerate the sleeves bc the fabric is very breathable and light

he really likes loud sounds specifically loud music and ambient/outside sounds like the ones he looks up in s11 to help him fall asleep :) he seems like the kinda person who can only do one thing as once, ie cant listen to music and play video games at the same time. when he does something he has to Devote Himself To It. if hes listen to music thats what hes doing. hes gonna sit there with his giant ass headphones on and stim or just cover his eyes and focus on the lyrics. hes s natural loud talker. he could yell over a jet engine if he wanted to. altho he doesnt like people raising his voice at him for obvious reasons. he cant stand pure silence it makes his skin crawl. ian loves his peace and quiet so mickey often throws on his headphones for parallel play. ian cooks or reads his book in quiet and mickey listens to deftones or doomscrolls on tiktok. parallel play becomes a huuuuge part of their bonding as a married couple :)

when he gets overwhelmed he completely shuts everything out. he acts like a cornered animal and lashes out at anything even if someone is trying to help. he needs space until he calms down or he'll have a meltdown and start throwing/breaking things or causing physical harm. sometimes he becomes too overwhelmed too quickly and completely skips the "shutting everyone out" stage and go straight to getting physical

he stims a lot by hitting or throwing stuff so ian trains him to use soft things like pillows and plushies (he absolutely has a plushie collection) when stimming. i think he also hits himself on the head sometimes. :( (totally not projecting) but be mainly sticks to his regular stims like messing with his eyebrows, chewing his nails, and biting his lip. he has an oral fixation! ian gets him a chew necklace. he likes singing and dancing with ian tho hed never admit it. he likes flapping his hands and jumping but hes still too embarrassed to ever do them. he unconsciously sways and rocks, especially if hes in the same spot for a long time

ian absolutely buys mickeys most of his sensory/stimming shit. lights, weighted blanket, spinner ring, chew jewelry, peelable clear nail polish, bike chain (which we see mickey has on his bedside table in s5 so i 1000% believe this was his first stim toy!!!) toy, tangles, different types of plushies (squishmallow, squishables, jellycat, reversible octopus (mickeys fav they both have at least one for every possible emotion), plushie dreadfuls, palm pals, different shapes and textured fabrics.) ian often steals a lot of these plushies; they are their first children. after they move back to the southside and are doing some work on their house, ian notices mickey still needs the catharsis of breaking shit, so sometimes they go on dates to the junkyard with baseball bats and destroy shit together

mickey literally cant be in the same room with ian when he eats his eggs with ketchup. the concept itself is so gross he cant tolerate it

hes very sensory seeking, again partly because of his oral fixation. he likes spicy food and LOVES sour food. obviously he loves candy and junk food. they have lamps, other small lights, and color changing led lights all over their home. eventually they both fall into a routine of communicating nonverbally using different colors of lights

mickey isnt great at communicating verbally tho he tries. sometimes he just cant, its too overwhelming and he cant think of the words to properly express himself. hes much better at conveying his thoughts thru physical means. this is part autism, part learned during childhood

he learned literally everything he knows about society thru movies. he uses a lot of old slang and makes niche references. he refuses to explain any of them to ian

sometimes he goes nonverbal and he texts only using (sometimes too many) emojis and reaction images that nobody gets except him

most people think hes weird and dont get his sense of humor but ian thinks hes the funniest person on the planet! they often make references to inside jokes in front of other people and it annoys the shit out of everyone

ok i have to stop now or im gonna go on forever thank you for the ask

#flamingbluepanda #asks #shameless #autistic mickey my betrothed #long post #wall of text .#a.txt #mine #my writing #ian number 1 husband he has a shirt that says 'i love someone with autism' and mickey made a matching one that says 'im autism '#autistic!mickey #autistic headcanons

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demonsfate · 25 days

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The small child rises from the bed of grass with an expression of perplexity. Jin recalled laying in the woods nearby his home to rest after a long day of playing, but this doesn’t look like Yakushima anymore. Yes, the surroundings resemble it, but the colors are… off. The grass was no longer green, but of a more blue hue. The skies are purple, but unlike the ones during sunset. Green and red clouds grace this unique sky, along with his toys that float without reason. What’s more unusual is that when looks ahead, he sees nothing instead of distant trees along the skyline. As if the world cuts off there.

Though Jin knows this isn’t his home, he’s overwhelmed by familiarity.

Then he turns around to the sudden sound of patter against the grass. Before the realization could hit him, somebody else did.

Somebody who tackled him at great speed. Stubby limbs flail about until both bodies crash to the ground, sending blades of purple grass to flutter in the air. Jin now understands what’s happening, and who attacked him.

It’s his buddy!

Sometimes when Jin sleeps, he skips dreaming and instead enters this strange world with little logic and nobody else, except for one kid. A kid who looks like his replica; except for those sharp, steel-like talons for hands, their skin that’s an ashen color and cool to the touch, their eyes an illuminating red, two small black wings, tiny nubs for horns, an odd red shape slapped on their forehead, and black ink across their face in a design he couldn’t understand. Jin wonders if they’re a secret sibling who can only communicate through the dreamworld, if they're a clone, or maybe a shapeshifter?! Jin hasn’t a clue because this kid doesn’t actually talk. They yell, grunt, growl, and laugh, which is what they’re doing now.

Jin paps his palm against the other kid’s head in iteration, trying to get them off him. “Hey, hey, hey!” He squeaked but the kid won’t yield, too excited to see him. Jin attempts to remove the kid only causes the pair to roll around in the grass, leading to what the pair always does; wrestling with each other. The children keep lightly smacking each other, the nameless kid roars with laughter, meanwhile Jin remains determined. Although his face lacks a smile, he’s having a blast, and the other knows this.

Just when Jin is about to give up, the kid suddenly stands, wings flapping. They giggle mischievously and run without uttering a word. Jin follows along, as this is another game they play; after wrestling, they enjoy a game of tag. It’s fun, but sometimes annoying. Whenever Jin’s hand is within reach, the kid uses their wings to take a great leap. The Kid keeps doing this until Jin’s frustration gets the best of him. He jumps after them, and it ends up being a wise decision. Just barely, he catches hold of their form. Again, they both meet the ground.

Despite falling, the kid keeps laughing, albeit softer. Jin keeps his arms around the kid, but now turning it into a hug. Jin’s never good with words. He didn’t start talking more until a couple of years ago. And this kid? This kid didn’t talk either, and Jin didn’t mind. They needn’t words, anyway. Playing, watching the sky change, that’s everything they need.

“Jin? Jin!”

However, their fun ends whenever he wakes up. The kid never likes it, but they seem to hate it when his mother’s the one to wake him. Her voice makes them jump in an instant. “Hey, it’s okay.” Jin tries to urge, but they won’t listen. They’re already fleeing like a deer hearing gunshots. Jin has no time to catch up with them before his eyes open to the image of his mother, who’s giving him a gentle lecture about being late for dinner. As he stands, she takes his hand to guide him. Jin wonders if one day he should tell his mother about his dream pal, yet when he opens his mouth, the words refuse to come out.

Maybe some other day.

#🔥 - ғᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴘᴜʀᴘʟᴇ ʜᴀᴢᴇ // (ic)#👿 - ᴡᴀɢᴇᴅ ᴡᴀʀ ɪɴ ᴀ ғɪᴇʀʏ ʙʟᴀᴢᴇ // (ic)#✏️ - ᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴘɪᴄᴇ ᴏғ ғᴀᴛᴇ // (drabbles)

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downeypike7 · 2 years

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guzmansanchez53 · 2 years

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kirkebyurquhart7 · 2 years

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hermes mini kelly 20

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#hermes mini kelly #mini kelly bag #mini kelly #mini kelly 2 #mini kelly ii

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rachymarie · 2 months

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My current main DISO/ISOs

Flaps Flying Squirrel • Ross Alien • Astra Moth • Dalia Fawn • Aster Dragon • Nibbles Squirrel • Hubert Highland Cow • Chutney Cheetah • Sly Fox

#cute #Palm Pal #Palm Pals #DISO #ISO #i can get 1 2 4 5 7 and 8 #aka: flying squirrel • alien • fawn • tie-dye dragon • highland cow/coo • cheetah #aka: Flaps • Ross • Dalia • Aster • Hubert • Chutney #the others are only available in the US etc #plushies #plush #stuffies #plushblr #stuffed animals #soft toys

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cellard0ors · 3 years

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Fic: Little Bit Hot, Little Bit (Bitter) Sweet

For @peachworthy ,who asked about Link's ennui when it came to his bachelor party and its lack of strippers. (Warning for infidelity)

"So, what was that about?"

Link and Rhett are back in their office, gathering up their things. The Mythical Crew has already checked out for the day, leaving the two lifelong friends alone and Rhett is looking at Link inquisitively after posing this question.

Link, not meeting his eyes, is idly adjusting the zipper on his laptop bag, "Don't know what you mean."

Rhett rolls his eyes, "Of course you do. You got all weird when we analyzed that one organizational pic. The one for the bachelor trip. Why? Was it cause I got another point?"

Link hasn't redirected his attention from the bag, so Rhett presses on, "I can't help that I smoke you at these things, man."

"It wasn't that," Link cuts in neatly, words practically overlapping over Rhett's, "It's..."

He shrugs helplessly, "Silly."

"It ain't," Rhett argues, "Not if it bothers you this much, so," he gestures to him to continue even as he says, "Go on..."

Link sighs and finally looks away from the bag, putting it to one side. He sits on their couch and flaps his hands," Look, I was just thinking back on my bachelor party and how it wasn't that big a celebration and it just-? I don't know...brought me down? It's just that there are a finite amount of things you can experience in your life and I guess I just've been feeling like I missed out on a lot."

"... because you didn't have strippers?"

Link levels Rhett with a look at that, but Rhett counters with his own, "Look, bo - we both got plenty of time left. Is that it? This some kinda midlife crisis thing? Cause I know Lily's going to college has left you feeling a lil'-?"

"I'm not having a midlife crisis," Link returns in a slightly waspish tone, arms crossing, "I'm simply recognizing things I missed out on "

"Link, if...if you want to go to a strip club-?"

"Christ," Link hisses with a surprising amount of annoyance - so much so that Rhett bristles at it, surprised and hurt until Link drops, "I don't want that. I just-? I want-?"

His voice drops in volume, soft and sad, "I just want to feel special."

Rhett blinks in shock. He opens his mouth, closes it. He's at a complete loss on how to answer, which a relatively new experience for him. Luckily, Link is more than up for filling in the silence, "Ain't like I need a stripper for that... albeit someone taking off their clothes for my enjoyment is a nice benefit, but..."

Rhett just stands there. Looming above Link, thinking and silent and Link shrugs again, rubs his palms over his knees, "Been married for forty three years... getting to damn near fifty and I don't regret a second of it, but it's-? It's nice, y'know?"

He sighs and tips his head back so it rests against the couch, eyes closed, "It's nice now and again to think of yourself as... attractive. Special."

The silence stretches out and Link shakes his head, "Man, just-? Just ignore me. I'm talking crazy, I'm talking-!"

Link's words are cut off by the sound of music coming from their blue tooth speakers. It takes him a minute to recognize it and when he does, his head shoots upright lightning fast, eyes wide, because it's ZZ Top.

It's not the kind of tune they normally listen to, but as Billy Gibbons starts singing for someone to give him all their loving, Rhett starts shaking his hips.

It's overly theatrical and he's toying with his shirt, lifting up the hem this way and that and Link bursts into giggles. Is his friend serious?

Apparently he is, as he starts making 'come hither' motions to Link and Link, still laughing, shakes both his head and hands, because no way is he going to get up and dance with this lovable idiot.

Rhett, undeterred, shifts his attention to his shirt again – whipping it off in one smooth motion before raising it one handed above his head, spinning it in crazy circles.

Link, seeing now exactly what his pal’s intentions are, begins to hoot and holler, clapping as if watching a real strip show. Rhett makes sure to toss the shirt at him and Link catches it easily.

He fawns over it dramatically, fanning himself and going as full ham as he can. Rhett’s nose scrunches up and he bends over laughing, clutching at his knees a moment before tossing his long hair back, a near perfect replica of a professional stripper tossing back her locks around during a routine.

He spins on his heels and kicks off his shoes clumsily before turning back, unbuttoning his jeans and slipping them off with as much skill as he did the shirt.

Once again, he tosses the discarded article of clothing at Link, who this time tosses it aside as if it’s an annoyance. There’s Rhett, in his boxer briefs and socks, shaking his booty at Link and it’s – without a doubt – one of the greatest things Link has ever seen.

Absolutely hilarious and silly and just the thing to snap him out of his blues.

As Link starts pretending to ‘make it rain’, Rhett dancing within the fake flurry of bills, he wonders idly if Rhett is going to climb upon his lap.

If he’ll embark on some faux lap dance or try to find something that he can work as a pole, but instead Rhett backs up and Link can’t help but snort, pumping one fist as he brusquely cheers, “Back dat thing up!”

Rhett stops again, chuckling, and Link breaks down as well, the two losing themselves to laughter. Link suspects at any moment Rhett will stand upright and resume a more conservative mien, but instead Rhett literally waggles his ass near Link and Link can’t help but pretend to spank him.

To be fair, he kind of really did spank him in that video they did – what’s so different about this?

Well, it turns out it is different, because when Rhett unceremoniously seats himself upon Link’s lap, his back to Link’s front, things are...not exactly the same.

Okay, so, yes – they did this in that same video – however, in that video, it had all been for show and Rhett hadn’t been…so…fully seated. Much less…grinding.

He’s grinding joyously on Link’s lap, completely unaware that this has just gone a wee bit too far, because yeah, the heat of him? The feel?

…oh boy.

Link’s…’not so’ little Link notices. And then some. Rhett’s rocking against him in perfect sync with the thrumming bass of the song and it’s been awhile since Link has felt this kind of special. Both he and Christy have been busy with this or that and this is…ahhh…

Rhett really works himself downward, creating a fantastic friction between his ass cheeks and Link’s burgeoning erection and Link closes his eyes tight, ready to speak up when Rhett knocks back against him some, tone throaty, “This working for you?”

“Rhett…” Link chokes out and Rhett, having yet to clearly recognize any troublesome signs, just gives him the sauciest grin, “Thinking it’s working for me. Working up a good ol’ sweat – might have ta take this act on the road, see if Jes-!”

“No,” Link grunts, because…he can’t think about that right now. He can’t think about anything. Instead, he grabs a firm hold of Rhett and does his best to halt his movement.

Rhett makes a questioning sound and then? Then he flushes. His cheeks grow fully crimson, green eyes wide as he pushes back just that little bit and he lets out a quiet, ‘Oh.’

Link nods. Rhett stops his movements completely. Link sits there in horrified humiliation, waiting for the hammer to drop, but then? Then Rhett does something completely crazy.

Crazy, immoral – absolutely nuts.

He…starts moving again.

This time with…intent.

He circles his hips and rocks backwards and Link lets out a choked sob, confused and betrayed and yet…unable to deny himself. His grip moves to Rhett’s hips and they’re surprisingly full. They fill up his sweating palms perfectly and Link can’t help himself.

He curses and prays to God equally as he locks down on Rhett and thrusts up. His rapidly swelling dick reaches its maximum hardness and – even through all the layers – he swears he can feel that sweet spot between Rhett’s cheeks – feel that hidden spot, that entrance, that-!

Link’s head knocks back on a full throttle moan and Rhett is not helping as he swallow thickly, muttering his own curse and…moving again.

Rhett is moving again.

And then so is Link.

They start working against one another – Rhett bearing down, Link thrusting up and the air fills with the sounds of their thick, heavy panting – whimpers and moans and Link knows his grip on Rhett has to be bruising and he wants to ease up, wants to relax it, but he can’t, he can’t.

He can do nothing but chase after this vicious, hungry pleasure and it’s like a beast inside of him has been awoken. It snarls and bears its fangs and bears down on its prey with full force.

What had started off as stupid fun has turned into a charged, erotic moment beyond comprehension and Rhett gasps Link’s name, gasps nonsensical things – filthy things.

And when Link hears something along the lines of ‘can practically feel you in me’ he loses himself entirely. With a sharp cry, his body releases – his cock throbbing with endless ecstasy as wet, hot heat fills the front of his drawers As his cock exerts itself, spilling his seed, balls pulsing and it’s so good, so good, so good.

It takes him awhile to recognize he’s chanting this helplessly into Rhett’s back as he thrusts up into him. As he cums and cums and he’s never had a climax like this.

One that leaves him blind, deaf, and dumb to everything. But then -just as wonderfully as the spell washed over him – it washes away.

And he’s cold.

And he’s ashamed.

And he’s…fuck.

The fact his next thought is that he wants more just makes him feel even worse and then Rhett slowly peels his fingers away from him.

The force Link used to hold Rhett in place is horrifying to him and he wouldn’t be surprised if Rhett never forgives him for it, if it wasn’t for the fact that – when Rhett rises – he’s clearly aroused.

His own underwear is tented by his obviously full cock and he turns to Link and licks his lips, eyes bright and hot as he husks, “Be back.”

Rhett disappears into their shared bathroom and Link has no doubt about what he’s doing in there. Not that Link is going to wait around to find out. He immediately springs from the chair. He springs from the chair and flees – flees because that wasn’t supposed to happen.

Nothing like that was ever, ever supposed to happen and his whole body is still humming with the afterglow of pleasant release and yet his eyes are burning with unshed tears because – what has he done?

What did he do? What did they do?

He just wanted to feel special and now?

Now, he feels nothing.

#rhink fic #snippet #peachworthy #oh my sweet peach

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djarrex · 3 years

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Countermeasures || 3

Anomaly

Fives x ofc!reader

<- previous chapter | next chapter ->

| main masterlist | series masterlist | read on ao3 |

Rating: 18+ only

Word Count: 5.7k

chapter summary: Agreeing to help Fives proves to be both good and bad.

warnings: canon character death, a sprinkle of fluff (Fives can be soft but we all know he’s quite the opposite in the right contexts 😉), a dash of sexual tension, a dollop of groping, tons of inappropriate thoughts - lordy lord get some cold water splashed on them

note: I broke away from including Fives’ POV in this chapter. It may come back in the future, idk yet. This is the first real series I’ve written and I’m extremely grateful for the pals I’ve met on here who reblog and like my work <3 Tbh I’m having a ton of fun writing this because not only does it give me an excuse to watch the conspiracy arc a bunch of times for the details but I also get to write about Renna and Fives and I love them both and I just want them to fuck already.

***

This was crazy. How did you of all people end up in a situation such as this.

By “this”, you were referring to the strong embrace you were trapped in - the ARC trooper you’re shamefully crushing on being the captor.

No, you definitely were not complaining.

After agreeing to help him, Fives you pulled into his body, his strong arms finding their way around your back holding you steady. Large palms nearly covered the expanse of your back, the heat from his skin burning holes right through your outer layers and into your flesh. Your face was practically smushed into his broad chest, your arms dangling awkwardly at your sides. The weight of Fives’ chin was pressing into your scalp. So many thoughts were swimming in your head as Fives held you as tight as he could without hurting you.

He was... hugging you. To be completely honest, you thought the two of you would fuck - or at least do something along those lines - before he hugged you. It was the energy he possessed that led you to that conclusion, but you were proven wrong.

You didn’t fight it - you knew how much it meant to him. These clones - these soldiers - were covered in plastoid from head to toe all day every day throughout their unfortunately short lives, and you figured they must be at least somewhat touch-starved. The way Fives held you was different than you thought he was capable of. You weren’t naïve; you knew the clones took off their armor at certain points, and hey, you knew that they even would have sex in their short spurts of time off. You read reports on clones who had contracted STD’s from their adventurous endeavors and were sent here to be treated. Even though they were created in a lab for the sole purpose of fighting in this ridiculous war, they were still men.

You wanted to keep up some at least some semblance of professionalism - to not touch Fives back, because quite honestly your body wanted more - but your heart started aching, and your body acted against your brain as your arms returned the embrace.

Fives was thick. The clones as a whole aren’t huge men; they aren’t fed nearly enough - that much you knew - and are relatively slim with a very low percentage of body fat compared to all the muscle they were designed to have. They’re not that much taller than you, either. However, you’ve never held a clone before. Fives’ back was like a bag of ropes; hard, thick, and you felt every single muscle so beautifully poking out of his skin even through the tunic. You allowed your hands to splay out over his back - to really feel him. You were completely lost in this moment, but you heard it - barely noticeable, but you heard it - Fives inhaled quietly through his nose, taking in your hair’s scent. You knew deep down that he didn’t mean for you to notice him smelling your hair, so you didn’t mention it. Butterflies flapped around in your stomach - then the butterflies quickly floated away and that feeling was exchanged with pure lust; the fire in your belly burning hot with desire.

You don’t know how long you held each other, but you needed to break away from him and get back to the matters at hand. You agreed to help him, and that’s what you’ll do. Maybe he’ll be so thankful for your help he’ll “hug” you again later.

“You do you have a plan, right, mister ARC trooper?” Breaking away from his embrace, you tried to shake your mind clear of any thoughts that didn’t include Tup.

“Of course I have a plan!” Fives’ tone suggested he was attempting to play off what had just happened, and it was cute. He walked over to the darkened window and kept his back turned to you. Perhaps he was trying to clear his thoughts as well. You wouldn’t know, but Fives was barely breathing in through his nose so that your scent lingered in his nostrils for as long as possible.

“Care to share?” You called to him, and Fives paused for a few moments before responding.

“Are you able to access all the equipment without the supervision of the long-necks?” He finally turned around, his brows raised. You blinked at him, just a little dumbfounded and slightly offended.

“Yes, Fives. Maker, I know how to work the kriffing equipment. I don’t need a babysitter.” You rolled your eyes then squinted them at him, crossing your arms to your chest with a huff.

“That’s not what I meant,” Fives chuckled as he approached you once again and placed a hand on your shoulder. “I meant, are you going to get in trouble if you’re working alone in there?” His gaze bore into you, making you feel slightly uneasy. Yeah, you knew how to work everything, of course. But this was all new territory for you; working - unauthorized – on a patient who wasn’t yours, performing an atomic brain scan unsupervised, breaking protocol…

“I- I’m not actually sure. I’ve never been explicitly told to not touch anything without them being there? I think it will be okay. It’s just that- that Dr. Nala Se said no to the scan. I don’t think she’ll like that I went behind her back and did it anyway. Although… I want to try everything in my power to save your friend.”

“Right. Then let’s get to it.”

“I’m sorry - let’s? You’re coming too? That doesn’t seem like a good-”

“It’ll be fine,” Fives quickly interjected. His confident tone faded with the next part: “Please. I want to be there - be there for Tup.” There they were again, those puppy dog eyes that get you every time. You doubt Fives even knows he’s doing it, but he had to catch on by now because you basically have never said no to him in the few short days you’ve known him. Your attraction to him made you break over and over again; this time was no different.

“Okay, fine. But you need to stay hidden.”

“I’m ‘Mr. ARC Trooper’, remember? I’ve been trained in the arts of being sneaky.” Wiggling his fingers and brows at you with a cheeky grin, you laughed and punched him in the shoulder. His grin only grew.

“Yeah whatever. Just follow me.”

You were the first to exit Fives’ room, peeking your head just outside the door to get a feel of the surrounding area. No guards in sight at the moment, so now was the perfect time to go.

“Quickly,” you stepped outside the room, motioning with your hand for Fives to follow. It didn’t take long to get next door, of course.

You pressed the controls on the panel and the door whisked opened; you shooed Fives in first. As soon as he entered, two guards came around the corner. You obviously didn’t want to look like you were doing something you weren’t supposed to, so you put on your best smile and nodded to the oncoming troopers. They nodded back and turned at the next corridor that led away from Tup’s room.

You stood there for a moment, just outside the room - thinking. You were obviously crazy, no doubt about that. You were breaking protocol, and basically risking your internship and everything you had worked for up to this point for Fives (and Tup). It was the right thing to do, right? Your insane crush on the ARC trooper aside, you were going through with all of this because it was the right thing to do. It definitely wasn’t right that the Kaminoans wanted to kill Tup off without entertaining more options and trying other procedures. It all seemed very… weird. As doctors, wouldn’t they want to try every possible way to find a solution without skipping over it all and just killing him? Although, why waste more time and resources when the “obvious” solution was to terminate him and find the answers through an autopsy? Maybe you should give it more time – Shaak Ti could be back soon with the Jedi Council’s backing. Maybe it wasn’t too late to back out – to turn around and coax Fives back into his room before you were both caught.

The moment was over when Fives’ hand reached out to grab your wrist, unceremoniously pulling you into the room. You nearly tripped as he yanked you inside, a murmured “hey!” subconsciously rolled off your tongue at the rough pull.

“Sorry, Renna.” He shut the door behind you, giving you an apologetic smile. “Did- did I hurt you? Sometimes I forget my own strength... I’m not used to manhandling pretty and delicate things.” Okay, let’s push that comment aside and table it for later on when you’re alone in your quarters.

Fives reached out to examine your wrist but you flapped your hands at him, “Really, I’m okay. Seriously.” You weren’t lying - it didn’t hurt. If you told him the absolute truth, you would tell him how you wished he’d manhandle you in other ways.

“Alright. Let’s get to work.”

Knowing how quickly you had to work for this entire plan to play out smoothly, you immediately made your way over to the controls and started tapping away. You turned your head to check on Fives – to see how he was planning on participating – and he was just frozen in place standing over Tup’s cot. Tup was still unconscious; his chest rising and falling rapidly in his comatose, shut eyelids flickering back and forth.

“Fives, push him over there.” You pointed at the scanner on the other side of the room with your back still turned as you tapped away at the screens, prepping the equipment. With one last tap of the screen, the scanner descended from the ceiling and Fives pushed Tup’s cot into it.

Tup’s chest rose and fell at an alarming rate, compelling you to consider - again - about turning back and aborting this plan altogether.

Fives came around the other side of the scanner where you watched the infrared picture of Tup’s brain from display screen, snapping you out of the thought.

“The scan’s almost complete.”

Fives moved in front of you and leaned closer to the screen, you shuffled to the side to give him to space. Your eyes unglued from the screen for just a moment to watch Fives; he was desperate. The look in his eyes told you that much, and his stance wasn’t as strong and sure as it always seemed to default to.

Your focus made way back to the screen. “Everything… appears to be normal.” Just as you said that the screen starting beeping; a red dot was blinking, pinpointing an anomaly in Tup’s brain.

“W- wait a second.” You softly pushed Fives out of the way and read the results displayed on the screen.

“What? What is it, Ren?” Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his little nickname for you, but there were more important things currently at hand. You can freak out about the way he says your name like that later.

“It looks like Tup has developed a tumor.” Your fingers started tapping away yet again. You’ve never seen a tumor in clones before. To be fair, you had never worked with clones like this before, but you’ve seen more than enough of their files to know that a tumor wasn’t exactly something that could just appear in a clone.

“A tumor? Is that even possible?”

“I’ve never seen anything like this in clones. Not in any of the files.” You ceased tapping, turning around to face Fives. His hand raked through his hair, a pure look of confusion and worry on his face.

“Then… what is it?”

“I honestly don’t know. I’ll need to do a biopsy to be sure.” With a nod, you offered a reassuring smile. “It’ll be okay, Fives. We’ll get this straightened out, and you and Tup will be off this stormy planet and back to your brothers in no time.” You weren’t sure you even believed your words.

“You’re gonna take it out of him?” Before you could answer, Fives whacked the tools all over the ground with one graceless hand movement. Your eyes widened as he bent down to grab at the mess. “Do you, uh, think anyone heard that?”

You raised your brow at him, and with a sarcastic tone, “The probability is high, yes.” You sighed. “You need to hide.”

Smacking his hands away as he continued to pick up the mess, you hissed, “Fives, hide.”

“I think it came from this room.” You both shot up; you ran over and pushed Tup out of the tube and started to power it down at the controls as Fives took cover under Tup’s floating cot. Interesting that an ARC Trooper chose that as a hiding place.

The door whisked opened. Nala Se stood at the entrance, looking around. Her bug-eyes landed right on you, then glanced over to Tup.

“Hello, Doctor.” Your tone was astonishingly calm despite the absolute terror currently running through your system.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She entered through the threshold and made her way over to Tup, assessing his condition with a scowl.

“I was only trying to save the patient,” You informed her, keeping your tone calm and professional. You were ignored, however. Apparently, Fives was not so great at cleaning up his messes, because one leftover syringe sat on the ground right below the Kaminoan’s heels. She reached down to grab it, and your heart started racing. You blurted out, “Doctor, I found something unusual in the scan. It appears to be a tumor… I think you should take a look-”

“You performed a second scan without my authorization?” Nala Se stood upright; the forgotten syringe grasped in her three slender fingers. How did she not see Fives down there? Uh oh… where did he go?

Your heart rate slowed. “Apologies, Doctor. I was only trying to-”

“Perhaps I made the mistake in assuming you’d be ready to work with the clones.” Nala Se turned around to shut off the remaining equipment; machines began powering off as they whirled back in place and Tup’s cot moved back to where it was before you started. One of the larger machines floated away, leaving Fives completely exposed. Ah, so that’s where he went. Your eyes widened as you looked between Fives’ shocked expression and Nala Se, who was still turned around and tapping at the controls. As much as you dreaded pressing further on, you needed to buy Fives enough time to make an escape back to his own room.

“But- but the tumor, Doctor. It seems to be blocking neuro-impulses from communicating with the brain. I think we should scan the rest of the clones to see if this is a problem with their base genetic model or a mutation with the current models.” The machines were all now back in place; you scanned the room with your eyes, hoping to not catch a glimpse of Fives.

“There is no tumor. Your scan is incorrect.” Nala Se departed the control panel, ambling over to the other side of the room. You really hope Fives had fled by now. Might as well keep on pressing, though. It did interest you that the Kaminoan doctor was so avidly trying to disregard what you were saying about a tumor. That was a thread you figured you should follow.

“But-”

“This clone clearly has a virus that remains undetected, but I will find the cause once he’s terminated.” You followed Nala Se until she reached Tup’s cot, her back turned to the exit. “Now leave. I’ll figure out what to do with you later.”

“Yes, Doctor.” You turned on your heels and walked out the already open door. You turned your head to watch Nala Se; she was still standing over Tup, but you were unsure of what she was doing. Something really didn’t seem right with this. You nearly crashed into Fives in the hall as you departed Tup’s room.

“I can’t believe they’re going to kill Tup!” Fives shouted in disbelief after you both had made your way back into his room and shut the door. Fives shoved the empty cot to the other side of the room, clearly frustrated.

“I know. I’m sorry, Fives.” All you could offer was a sincere apology. It didn’t seem like a great idea at present to bring up how you thought the entire ordeal with Nala Se seemed fishy.

“We were not created to be disposed of this way!” He slammed his fists on the cot, an action that seemed to be fueled by rage, but his eyes told a different story.

“Just- just think of it this way… Tup is sacrificing himself so that other clones like him can survive. Isn’t that something you said he’d want?” You went to reach for him - to offer a gentle reassuring touch - but he backed away.

“There aren’t others like him!” His raised voice prompted you to take a few steps back. You weren’t scared of him, but you understood they he may need some space right now. Maybe it would be best if you retreated to your quarters and called it a day. After all, Nala Se basically sealed your fate by undoubtedly reassigning you to the archives. It probably wasn’t appropriate that you been seen in Fives’ room anymore. Your own selfishness kept you there, though.

“I’m sorry, Ren. I don’t mean to take this out on you, I just-” You allowed yourself to take a few steps towards him. “Tup doesn’t have to die - you found a tumor. I’m sure that’s the cause of all this. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“But… how can we proceed? Dr. Nala Se basically reassigned me to the archives. I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be here with you anymore. I could get dismissed, sure, but I have no idea what would happen to you.”

“Do the biopsy. I’m sure what you find will prove Tup doesn’t have to die. Your findings would bump you up in the ‘ranks’ I’m sure, and they would have no reason to send you back to filing paperwork.” A beat. “As for me… I’ll be fine.” You both knew that was a lie. You’ve seen what the Kaminoans have done to “defective” clones. It’s all in the files. It’s inhumane. There was no way you’d let that happen to Fives.

“I’m not so sure…. Dr. Nala Se doesn’t believe-”

“We’re not going to Nala Se with whatever you find. We’ll go to General Shaak Ti. She helped me once as a cadet and I know she values the life of a clone.” Now that, that was the truth.

“Fives… I’d be disobeying direct orders.” At this point, you didn’t care what happened to you if you were to go through with this. Fives was who you were concerned with. Not because of a hopeless crush, but because of his status of patient and you sincerely cared about him.

“Yep, and for the second time today,” He jested. Not funny. You scoffed. “Ren…” There they are, yet again - the puppy dog eyes. Those, paired with how he said your name. You’d break for sure. “Will you help me? Please.”

***

“Hurry!” Fives was hunched over the control panel with you, basically micromanaging you even though he had no idea what it was you were doing.

“Fives, you’re going to have to not rush me. I’m not a droid. Give me a kriffing minute.” Your fingers tapped frantically at the screen, hitting button after button until -

“Intruder alert. Intruder alert. All nonessential personnel report to a safe room for lockdown.”

You stood up straight and grinned over at Fives, who looked a little shocked.

“What did you do?” The alert played over again on the intercom.

“I made it so that the security scanners picked up an intruder in section C-6. We need to hurry, though. I doubt it’ll take them long before they realize it’s a false alarm.”

“They taught you how to hack a security mainframe at the fancy medical academy you attended on Coruscant?”

You rolled your eyes at him, hands on your hips. “Is that really important right now?” Fives chuckled and shook his head. Grabbing his wrist, you stretched your head to look outside the door. “They have guards stationed just outside. How are we going to get over there?” You turned towards Fives, who was pulling away from you and looking up at the ceiling. You followed his gaze, and you knew exactly what he was thinking. “The vents?” You sounded a little shocked, but it really was the only safe way out of there. He tilted his head down to look at you, a smile on his face. You snorted.

“Here, I’ll climb up first and then pull you up.” Your looked over at the door again, making sure you weren’t about to get absolutely busted, and grabbed his dangling hands.

You shook your head with a smirk. “You know, I’m starting to wish I had stayed in the archives,” you jested, as Fives hoisted you up and into the vent with him.

You never realized just how creepy it was up in these vents. To be fair, there wasn’t one moment that you would’ve pictured yourself crawling through them, but here you were. It was dark, every movement you made echoed, and it was freezing cold. You – for some reason – were leading the way, crawling through the cold durasteel tunnel. Fives was silent; he wasn’t making any comments, not cracking any jokes, not even expressing his concern for Tup. It dawned on you: he was totally checking out your ass. You had shed your long lab coat before he pulled you up, knowing that it would be harder to crawl with it tugging under your knees. Fives hadn’t yet seen you without it on… and you knew how good your ass looked in the leggings you wore. With a slight chuckle to yourself, you stopped crawling for a moment and looked over your shoulder to glance at him to the best of your ability.

“Fives, are you staring at my ass?” You tried to not let your giddiness get in the way of your accusatory whispering, but you found yourself muffling laughter. He didn’t reply right away – probably trying to think up a comeback or a way to wiggle himself out of the subject.

“Fuck yeah I am,” he murmured back, sounding as cocky as ever. You bit your lip and shook your head, resuming the crawl towards the oncoming exit vent. “I don’t exactly have anything else to look at from back here, you know. I got quite a nice view, so, no complaints.” Your face heated up at his smug comment, resisting the urge to shake your ass for him – to really give him a good view. Now was not the time.

You crawled past the vent so Fives could hop down first; he plopped onto the floor, graceful and stealthy as ever, before standing directly under the vent with his arms held out.

“Common, I’ll catch you.” It really wasn’t a long way down; you’d land just fine, though probably not as gracefully as he did.

“Uh, okay…” You lowered your legs out from the ceiling, keeping your grip on the cool metal for a moment while you steadied yourself. “Fives, I think I got it. I can just hop down like th-” Your grip from the ceiling slipped, sending you down and nearly hitting the floor in the worst way possible, when strong arms found their way under your ass and back.

Fives just saved you from breaking a bone or two, and all you could do was blink up at him as his hand slightly squeezed the plushy part of your ass, the other hand gripped tightly on your waist. Maybe he thought you wouldn’t notice the way he was savoring holding you like that, but you did. And you liked it.

“Nice to look at and feels nice, too.” Fives grinned at you before setting you down on your feet. He definitely shouldn’t be talking about how your ass looks and feels right now with his friend lying nearly dead on the cot barely an arm’s length away - but, is he was open to making comments such as those during these unsure times, you’d reciprocate. A boost of confidence surged through you.

“Glad you like it, trooper. Maybe some time you can see and feel it without these in the way,” you pulled at your leggings, looking him straight in the eyes with a smirk. Seeing Fives’ expression was well worth making the comment.

“Don’t say things you can’t follow up on, Renna.” His shocked expression quickly flipped to dark, catching you completely off guard and making you gulp. Your entire body felt as if it was on fire as tiny fireworks danced in your gut. There was absolutely no way you’d be able to follow up on your innuendo-filled comment unless you found each other in another life under different circumstances. You needed to shake it out of your system.

Firing up the laser drill, you looked over at Fives and studied his worried expression. He looked so soft, so concerned – it tugged at your heart harder than you cared to admit. His focus remained on Tup until the sound of the drill made him look up.

Your hands were slightly shaking. You felt it, but it didn’t appear to be noticeable. You had never performed a biopsy on a real, living, breathing lifeform before. Everything you had done during your schooling was on the deceased or on medical dummies. You were nervous, but this wasn’t about you. You finally had the chance to save a life. You needed to pull it together.

“Renna, are you okay?” Fives’ voice nearly came out as a whisper. You looked up at his eyes; he was studying you, deeply.

You took a deep breath and nodded with a slow exhale. You turned your attention back to the drill, grabbing Tup’s head and positioning it to where you needed.

“You might want to look away at this part.”

***

You did it. A successful biopsy. Feeling a bead of sweat threatening to fall from your hairline, you wiped it away with your arm and looked up at Fives who still had his eyes squeezed shut.

“Is it done?” The absent sound of the drill encouraged him to open his eyes. You held up the tumor, encased in a transparent casing. You handed it to Fives; he studied it closely, bringing it up to his face with a sigh. The moment was over when the door whisked open.

“What have you done?” Dr. Nala Se came into the room; Fives didn’t appear frightened, but you sure as fuck were.

“We saved my friend’s life.” Fives whipped around to face the “long-neck” - as he calls them - holding up the tumor in an accusing manner towards her, “This tumor is the cause of his illness.” She reached out and tried to grab the encased organic matter, but Fives maintained a hard grip as they fought for it.

“Give me that!” Nala Se looked angrier than you had ever seen her. You ran up to them, trying to stop something before it started.

“You can’t be trusted.” Fives reached down to Tup’s cot with his free hand, grabbing a mysterious syringe, and held it up in a threatening manner. You reached your hands up to stop him, but Shaak Ti’s sudden arrival did the job for you.

“Stand down, trooper.” She stood at the doorway with her hand outstretched. Jedi didn’t need to hold a weapon; you knew what they could do with just one outstretched hand in the blink of an eye. You’ve never seen it in action, but you’ve heard stories.

Fives dropped the hand holding the syringe but kept hold of the tumor with his other. “I have evidence. It’s right here!” He sounded desperate. This looked way too bad. You were caught right in the middle of it all, too.

“I’m free…” A weak voice croaked from the cot, making all the heads in the room turn in the same direction. Tup. Fives let go of the tumor and whipped his body around to face his friend, crouching down next to Tup and leaned in close.

“Tup?”

“The mission… free.”

“What is he saying?” Shaak Ti entered through the threshold, a few guards flowing in from behind her with their blasters aimed at Fives.

“Brother, what mission?” It was apparent that Fives was trying to understand what was coming from Tup’s mouth, and could not care less that his own kind were holding weapons to him. It had been the first time anyone had heard Tup speak words that didn’t sound like “kill” and “Jedi” since his arrival.

“You… you know the one. The- the mission, the one in our dreams…” Fives’ wide eyes scanned over his friend, searching for a clue, for anything. “…that never ends.”

You were frozen in your spot, taking in Tup’s bewildering words. You watched Fives’ expression as he frantically tried to decipher what Tup was murmuring. You glanced up from them, seeing the guards' buckets turn to look back and forth at each other. The mission - the one from their dreams?

“Oh, brother…” Tup’s hand lifted to the best of its ability; Fives grabbed it with his own and squeezed. This moment was so raw, so emotional, so real. You never would have thought…

“This is the end. Forget the mission.” Tup was fading away. You could hear it in his voice, and you knew that Fives knew what was coming. It looked as though Fives was holding back tears – trying to keep his composure. “Oh, the nightmare. I’m… free.” With that, Tup was gone.

You scanned the room. Shaak Ti bowed her head, hand over her heart. The other clones lowered their weapons down to their sides, heads bowing. Nala Se, however, remined the same. Her expression never changed. Heartless Kaminoans.

Fives was shaking his friend’s body, begging him to come back. “I thought I saved him…” You didn’t know what to do now. Tup was gone, and it was your fault. He was alive until you removed the tumor. Fives was in pain – mourning for his brother because of you. You took a few steps back, and leaned against the counter, your fingers combing through your scalp. Not only did you disobey direct orders twice today, but you also killed the very first lifeform you did a biopsy on, and to top that off, the patient you killed was important - a brother - to someone you deeply cared about.

***

Fives was placed under arrest just shorty after. Tup’s body wasn’t even cold yet.

You stood there in silence; Fives locked eyes with yours as he was almost forcefully escorted out of the room by the surrounding guards. It was clear that both of you were trying to communicate with the other using only your eyes, but no distinct message was coming across. You wanted to tell him you were so sorry for everything, and that you’d miss him, that you’d never forget him and Tup, and that meeting him changed your view of the clones entirely. But, there were no final goodbyes, no condolences given. Fives would be taken away, and you would be dismissed. You’ll miss Fives with all your heart, but you won’t miss Kamino.

General Shaak Ti followed behind the guards, leaving you in the macabre room with Dr. Nala Se and Tup’s lifeless body. It was silent for a moment before Nala Se looked over to you, shaking her head in disbelief. You were in big trouble.

“Miss Renna,” the long-neck approached slowly, closing the gap between where you were hunched forward over the counter resting on your elbows and where she was covering Tup’s body with a sheet. “I can not condone this type of behavior from an intern. I have no choice but to reassign you to your previous duties in the archives indefinitely.” You were not at all surprised. You nodded slowly, still not looking up at her. You felt numb. Only three days into real field experience, and you fucked up royally. You didn’t need to help Fives, resulting you in ending up in whatever this is. It was interesting that you weren’t dismissed like you’d assume you would be – just reassigned. The thing with Dr. Nala Se acting weird when Tup’s tumor came into play still was on the front of your mind; perhaps you would be able to look into these matters during your long, boring hours in the archives.

Finally looking up at Nala Se, “What… what is going to happen to my patient?” The words nearly came out choked as you tried to hide your worry for Fives. You needed to keep up the front – the professionality of it – so no suspicion would arise. She was scrolling through a datapad, clutching the tumor in her three fingers. The tumor. You tried to study it from afar - what it looked like, the coloring, how the cells neighbored inside it. It looked... dead. Depleted. You snapped your eyes away and over at the dead trooper, whose body was now completely covered by a thin sheet, when Nala Se spoke again.

“Do not worry about ARC-5555. It will be taken care of, so we can put this matter behind us. Just be thankful I didn’t dismiss you, Miss Renna. You are too valuable to replace with some other eager intern.”

Valuable? ‘It’? Taken care of?

“I am thankful, Doctor. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” You were motioned to exit the room; as you walked by Nala Se, you caught one last glance at the tumor, attempting to burn the image of it in your brain and commit it to memory. There was something about the tumor – something that prompted strange behavior from the Kaminoans – and you needed to figure out what that something was.

***

tags: @bvcketfvcker @deewithani @chromia7567 @cyaniderainfall

#djarrex writes #countermeasures series #arc trooper fives x reader #arc trooper fives x oc #arc trooper fives x you #arc trooper fives smut #fives x you #fives x reader #fives x oc #fives smut #the clone wars fic #the clone wars smut #the clone wars #conspiracy arc #the clone wars conspiracy arc

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lue-arlert · 3 years

Text

From Across the Country - Chapter 7

Summary: Armin and Ivy have been pen pals since primary school. After a break in communication, they’re finally reunited via the paper and ink through which they’d grown so close.

WC: 3.1k

Chapter content warnings: OC content, modern au, implied intercourse (18+ MDNI), mentions of sexual content (18+ MDNI), possessive behavior

Friendship

The season was slowly morphing into a darker theme, images of bats and vampires and mummies cluttering the two-story house with accents of cottony spider webs. Large bags of candy were tucked away in the pantry inside deep bowls shaped like cauldrons, and orange and purple string lights were being stapled to the front porch awning by Connie, held up by a large yellow ladder.

Ivy was spotting him below, leaning against one of the steps on her elbow as she watched him work, smoothing out her dress as a gentle fall breeze rustled around her. “You said we were getting pumpkins tonight, right?” She asked as she looked up at him.

“Yep, as soon as Sasha gets home from class, we’re going.”

“Alright.” She reached up and grabbed his hand to help him down as he finished hanging the lights, then folded up the ladder and carried it around to the garage.

She and Connie went back into the house and checked on their lunch, pulling the oven open to inspect their food before taking seats at the dining table to finish waiting. They chatted for a while about work until the food was ready, then they continued their conversations over their meals and cleaning their dishes when they were done.

As they made their way to the living room, a knock on the door echoed through the house, and Ivy hustled to answer it.

“Afternoon,” the mail carrier smiled, handing a small rectangular package to her.

“Afternoon,” she responded with a matching smile. “Thank you.”

“Welcome, have a good day!”

“You too!”

She shut the door behind her and turned the package over, her smile turning into a giddy grin.

“What’d he send you now?” Connie chuckled from the couch, knowing just from her expression that the delivery was from Armin.

“Not sure. It’s pretty light.” She stepped over to the couch and sat beside him with her legs crossed beneath her, and pulled the tape away to open the sealed box.

Carefully, she pushed the flaps open and lifted the plain envelope that sat atop the bubble wrap. Folding it open, she blinked in surprise at the short message.

My Ivy,

I hope you enjoy your care package. Sorry for the short letter. It’s been a rough week. I’ll write more soon.

Yours,

Armin

She furrowed her brows and set the letter beside her, then picked at the tape that sealed the bubble wrap shut. Upon its opening, she grinned again at the contents, removing a bag of chocolate covered blueberries, three movie theater passes, and a small fabric bag that laid at the bottom of the bubble wrap.

“We can go see something this weekend,” she said as she handed the theater passes to Connie.

“Sweet.” He took them and gave them a once over, reading the theater names listed on the back that were eligible to receive the passes.

Ivy sat the blueberries back into the box and opened the fabric bag, noticing a soft jingle from the inside. Her fingers became tangled in something thin, and she slowly removed the item, revealing a silver chain carrying an oval locket that had a tiny engraving of an ivy plant on the face of it.

Her mouth hung open as her fingers grazed the hinge along the side of it, eyes watering as she looked it over.

“Whoa,” Connie said quietly, looking into her palm.

Licking her dry lips, she popped open the locket to find nestled in the right frame one of her floral stickers, and in the left frame a mailing stamp.

She let out a shaky breath and sniffed away the tears forming in her eyes as she wrapped her fist around the necklace and looked into the box again, finding it empty aside from the snack she had returned to it. She turned back to the letter and glanced over it once more in hopes that more than just his four sentences would appear, in hopes that there would be an explanation for the necklace. When she found nothing further, she dug her phone out of her dress pocket and pulled up her contacts, tapping Eren’s name.

The line rang for a few seconds before a groggy voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Eren,” she sniffed. “Are you alone?”

“Are you okay? Are you crying?”

“Yeah,” she rubbed her nose with the back of her hand.

“Yeah, I’m alone, Armin’s out to lunch with our friends. What’s wrong?”

“Did he show you anything that he sent me this time?” She stared down at the necklace, rolling it through her palm with her thumb.

“Are you talking about the movie passes? Yeah, he had me grab those the other day.”

“Is that it?”

“Yeah… do… do you not like them?”

She shook her head while rolling her eyes and wiped away a tear. “It’s not that, Eren—he sent me a necklace.”

“He what?”

“He sent me a necklace.” She looked down into her hand again and her lips trembled into a smile as she stared at the smooth silver. “A locket.”

“I didn’t know about that, no. He must’ve gotten that when he went to have his watch fixed the other day.”

“Eren, what do I do with this? This is such a big gift.”

“Wear it? What’s the issue?”

Ivy paused, clenching her teeth and pursing her lips in thought. “Nothing, I guess. I… I must just be overreacting. He’s never sent me anything this nice before.”

“Maybe because I’m not a girl, I don’t see what the big deal is. Just wear it. Maybe send him a picture of you wearing it. You like it, don’t you?”

“Yeah… I love it.” She then scoffed and shook her head. “I sent him a pen, and he sent me a necklace… what a trade off.”

“He really liked what you sent him. Do you wanna see his paper thing you sent? He put it all together.”

“Sure.” A grin took place over her lips.

She could hear some shuffling and creaking, as if he were crawling out of a bed, then a brief silence before Eren’s voice came back and said, “Okay, I just sent it to you.”

Pulling the phone from her ear, Ivy minimized her phone app and opened her texting app, tapping Eren’s name. The image of a layered paper display of an ocean scene was sitting atop a shelf on a desk. Above that on the wall, she could see a cork board with what looked like the bottom of the picture she had sent him previously when he first started up correspondence with her again, nestled between other posts and papers on the board.

Her heart drummed loudly in her ribs and she slowly brought the phone back to her ear, her smile softening. “Thank you, Eren.”

“Yeah, no problem. He didn’t tell you about it in his letter?”

“Actually, he didn’t really even send me a letter.” She picked the paper up once more and read it off to Eren. “What does that mean? Is he okay?”

She heard him sigh from the other end of the line. “Hal… Hal tried to talk to him again. Except this time, she actually came to the dorm. He said he didn’t want to speak with her and she hit him.”

Ivy’s breath caught and her eyes widened. “Is he okay?” She asked in a quieter tone.

“He’s fine now, it was just a hard slap. It was enough to give him a little bit of a black eye, though. I swore he wrote you a full letter, he sat next to me while he responded to you. Maybe he changed his mind.”

“Hmm.” She nodded in thought, then looked down at the necklace once more. “I wish it was November already.”

“Me, too. I’m having a hard time keeping this from him.”

“Yeah.” Ivy nodded to herself, then her eyes fluttered to her lap absently. “I’ll let you go.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah, bye.”

They disconnected from each other and Ivy sat back against the couch with a heavy sigh, dropping her phone between her legs and pulling the necklace to her face.

“Put it on.” Connie said plainly, making her jump.

“I forgot you were there,” she exhaled. “Do you really think I should?”

He gave her a ‘no duh’ look and rolled his eyes with a sarcastic smile. “Ivy—please.”

“What?” She stared at him with hunched shoulders.

“Just wear the damn necklace, I know you want to.” He stood from the couch and began to walk into the kitchen, stretching his arms out.

She rolled it around in her hand before glancing over it once more, then carefully unclasped the dainty lobster claw hook and wrapped the chain around her neck, hooking it together, and pulling her hair from under the chain. As she grasped it in her palm against her chest, her eyes came back up to look at Connie entering the living room once more.

“Ivy,” he started, sitting down with two snacks, passing one off to her. “You need to make a choice.”

“What do you mean?” Her brows furrowed as she opened the snack packaging, staring at him.

“You’re dating Porco, but you’re in love with Armin—make a choice.”

“I’m not in—Connie, please.” She scoffed and turned away from him with a blush. “We’re friends, we’ve been friends for years. We’re just friends.”

Friends. Yeah, sure.

“Whatever you say, man. Just think about it, yeah?” Without another word, he grabbed the remote and flicked on the television, turning it to his favorite media streaming app.

Ivy kept quiet as she munched on her snack and watched the show Connie picked, holding her tears back. Her fingers barely left her necklace, and her mind never left his words. She loved Armin, as a friend. He’s a good friend, he cares about her, as a friend. There was no further explanation needed, no further convincing herself that she felt anything more than platonic adoration for him.

Finally calming her mind, she shook her thoughts away and turned to the tv, giving her undivided attention to the show as Connie laughed to himself over the characters and scenes.

Once Sasha returned from class and the pumpkins had been acquired, the trio sat at the dining table that was covered in newspapers and pumpkin guts, carefully carving and prodding at the gourds. They played spooky music that derived from their favorite horror and thriller movies, and snacked on Halloween themed cookies as they continued their activity.

Sasha’s pumpkin was a classic Jack-o-lantern, pointy teeth and triangular features with long eyebrows.

Connie created what looked like a clown, but you had to stare at it for a moment to see the clown characteristics to it—it was certainly the same amount of unsettling as a regular clown, though.

Ivy’s was the same as she made every year, a kitty with pointy paper ears that she coated with a thick layer of glue to keep them sturdy in the chilly fall air.

Following her evening with her roommates, she had met with Porco at his apartment, having a late dinner together then sharing a heated dessert of each other’s bodies, where she was now bouncing and rolling her hips on his lap on the couch, her dress draped over his thighs while he squeezed her hips pulling her down on him again and again, his face buried in her neck as his deep breaths fanned her glistening skin.

Her hands were wrapped around his neck as she leaned her head back, soft mewling escaping her lips.

As Porco groaned and slid his hands to her waist, they were both growing closer to their finish when the door to the apartment opened widely to Porco’s roommate stepping in with grocery bags in her hands.

The two gasped and stopped their ministrations, Ivy hiding her face in Porco’s shoulder while he wrapped an arm around her and reached his other hand out towards his roommate. “Pieck, fuck!”

“Ahh!” She turned her face away and held her arms up, hunching her shoulders. “Porco! Why didn’t you tell me she was coming over?!”

“I didn’t think you’d be home yet!”

Ivy quickly crawled off of his lap and grabbed her panties from the floor and excused herself to the bathroom as Porco hastily redressed himself, pulling his pants back up over his ass and fastening his belt before standing.

“Sorry, Pieck.”

She slowly glanced over her shoulder at him and exhaled loudly. “Anyway,” she sighed, “help me bring in groceries while your girlfriend hides, will you?”

“Y-yeah, okay.” He looked to the bathroom door, then followed the black-haired woman out to her car.

Ivy heard this request and decided to wait in the bathroom until they were back inside, leaning against the door while her heart pounded violently.

She gripped her necklace, staring at the tile floor and she rolled it through her fingers, feeling the engraving beneath the pads of her fingertips. She tried to ignore what Connie had said to her, bury it away into the deepest parts of her mind to forget it.

The only problem was that she couldn’t get Armin out of her brain.

After several minutes of being lost in her thoughts, a soft knock on the door brought her back to reality and she pulled it open, glancing up at Porco who stood smiling at her.

“It’s safe to come out now.”

She returned the smile and stepped out of the bathroom, taking his extended hand and following him back into the living room.

The three of them found a movie to watch, the embarrassing tension having been lifted. Porco had his arm draped around Ivy, his fingers absently playing with the straps of her dress, and he noticed she wouldn’t leave her necklace be, constantly turning it over and giving it a squeeze or letting it dangle from her knuckles.

“That’s pretty,” he complimented quietly, leaning into her ear and shoulder. “Where’d you get it?”

“Armin sent it to me.” She blurted, eyes never leaving the television screen. Realizing what she said, she turned to look at him, his brows furrowed and lips pulled together.

“Why did he send you jewelry?”

Ivy panicked, not knowing how to save herself from this, and shrugged while dropping her hand into her lap. “We send each other gifts all the time. He must’ve thought of me when he saw it.”

Pieck could hear their whispered conversation and her eyes widened slightly as she glanced to Ivy, meeting her gaze briefly. She knew immediately that this wasn’t right, that Ivy’s receiving and wearing of this necklace meant something more than what sounded like just a friendly gift. She made note to speak with her privately when she got the opportunity and turned back to the television, acting as if she hadn’t heard anything.

The eye contact that Ivy made with Pieck was brief, but she knew that she put herself into hot water. She glanced back up at Porco and shrugged again. “It’s nothing, Pock.”

He pursed his lips and sat back into the couch, his arm still around her. He remained silent for the rest of the movie, then offered to walk Ivy to her car as soon as it ended.

He trudged alongside her down the four flights of stairs, hands in his pockets as he watched his feet connect with each step until they reached the parking lot.

Ivy couldn’t think of anything to say to him, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. When they reached her car, she slowly pulled the door open and turned to look up at him. “Pock, I—”

“Could you, um,” he interrupted, “could you not wear it around me?”

She blinked in surprise at him, her hands resting on the top of her driver’s door.

“I don’t want to see that you’re wearing jewelry from another guy.”

“Pock, he’s just a friend.”

“I don’t care.” He shook his head, squeezing his fists in his pockets. “I should be the only one marking you and giving you jewelry.”

Ivy’s head bounced back in surprise. “‘Mark me’?” She asked with an exasperated voice.

“You’re my girl, Ivy.” He took a step towards her and brushed some of her hair behind her ear, then cupped her chin to tilt her face up to his. “You shouldn’t be wearing jewelry from another guy.”

“Porco, we’re just friends.”

He shook his head and leaned his face down, kissing her firmly. He pulled away just enough that their noses were grazing, and whispered, “Friends don’t send friends expensive jewelry. Please don’t wear it.”

She blinked at him for a moment before nodding, glancing away from him. “Alright.”

Porco kissed her again, then stepped back from her and watched her sit into her car, shutting the door for her.

Ivy laid in bed, staring at the ceiling with her phone laying over stomach in her hand, soft music playing from it as her other hand was clasped around her locket once more.

She was mulling over Porco’s words, about how he was claiming her as his, even though they’d only been together a few weeks. The idea didn’t sit right with her, but the more she thought about it, the more sense it made that he would be upset over another man sending her jewelry—much less a locket with such meaningful contents.

She sighed and rolled over onto her side, placing her phone on her wireless charger and tucking her hands under her cheek. The necklace was a solid symbol of their friendship—nothing more. Nothing deeper than friendship. There was no romantic love involved.

Then why did she dream of Armin that night, with his arms wrapped around her as they embraced, staring into each other’s eyes as his thumb caressed her cheek? Why did she dream of their hands intertwined and smiles being exchanged? Why did her dream self feel butterflies and like she was floating, like all her cares were gone in the world, and that nothing mattered besides Armin?

She wouldn’t remember these dreams in the morning, as they had quickly left her subconscious as she stirred awake in the new day, a new day that she would spend working on her reply to Armin—her friend.

Lue’s Complete Masterlist

Taglist: @seriouslyprongsies @coffeeforday

#armin arlert #armin arlert fic #attack on titan fanfic #shingeki no kyojin fanfic #aot #snk #armin #fanfic #aot smut #snk smut #From Across the Country

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whumpzone · 4 years

Text

Tomas and Rowe Interval: Babysitting

Soooooo @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi sent me this ask about Tomas possibly having a little baby in the family who could meet Rowe, and I love children so naturally I DIED at this idea and had to write something. Please enjoy!!! (I had to research so many baby milestones for this, lmao)

When Master came downstairs later than usual one Saturday morning, Rowe noticed. He noticed everything- kept him safe, usually.

"Hi, Rowe," Master said, cool as anything. Rowe pressed his forehead to the floor and wished him a good morning, before picking himself off the floor. He had learnt that Master didn’t like ordering Rowe back up every time he knelt. A waste of his time, Rowe figured.

"I’ve been on the phone to my sister, Maggie. Have I mentioned her before? She has a little girl called Henrietta. I think she’s… what? Fifteen months? What’s that in years?"

"One year three months, Master."

"Thanks. You’re so smart, Rowe," he said, ruffling his hair. Rowe let himself smile at the high praise. "But yeah, she asked if I could babysit her tonight. Just for a few hours. Would that be okay with you?"

What does it matter what I think? I’m just a Pet.

Master had a habit of doing this. Rowe still wasn’t any more used to it, but he tried to think in terms of wants and would that be okays and give an answer Master would like.

"Yes, that would b-be…okay, Master," Rowe offered, and Master beamed.

"Great! I told her I’d check my calendar- she doesn’t know I have you- so I’ll text her now. She should drop Henri off around 6."

Rowe had to stay in his bedroom while Maggie was handing over her baby to Master Tomas. He must have done something wrong, for Master to not want to show him off, but he swallowed his nerves and vowed to do better. Hopefully he’d find out what he’d done soon.

"Rowe, pal! Come meet our little guest."

Master had a small human propped on his hip, a leg on either side of his chest. It- she- Henri- was flapping her hands a little bit. She was impossibly round. Everywhere Rowe looked there were dimples, round cheeks, chubby fingers and little feet kicking Master painlessly.

Rowe gingerly got closer and, because it seemed like the right thing to do, waved. Henri waved back clumsily, her eyes fixed on him. It made him feel…special. Not that he was anything, of course; this was just a human who didn’t know what Rowe was yet.

"Henri," Master coaxed, "this is Rowe. Rowe."

"Woh," Henri said.

"Sh-she can speak, Master?"

"A little. Right, Henri?" Master bumped her up and down in his arms and she giggled. "Can you say 'hello, Rowe'?"

"Hewwo Woh!"

Rowe felt his heart melt.

Master carried Henri over to the living room and set her down on the floor. "I wonder if I have any kid’s books lying around…" he muttered, staring at the bookshelf in the far corner.

Without a direct order, Rowe settled on his knees by the sofa, watching Henri with awe. She was so cute. She was wearing a pair of dungarees and her hair sat in wispy curls on her big baby head. She noticed him kneeling there and waved her hands at him again.

"Hello, Henri," Rowe said quietly. "Hello."

He waved back and, since Master’s back was turned, he stuck his tongue out at her. Henri smiled and copied him. She copied him! So Rowe decided to try something else. He squished his cheeks up with his hands and pouted his lips like a fish. Henri was now transfixed, and bounced her chubby hands off her cheeks in imitation. She pushed her lips out and made a buh buh buh noise in enjoyment.

"…and Maggie gave me that bottle, I should fill that up- you two having fun? I think she likes you, pal."

Me?

Rowe smiled shyly. "C-can she walk, Master?"

'A little bit, I think. See if she comes over to you. I’m going to get her something to drink."

"H-uh? B-but-"

"Don’t worry, she’ll be in my sight at all times. Plus, you’re part of this babysitting malarky too, Rowe!"

Rowe chewed his lip and turned back to Henri. "Hey, Henri," he said. He remembered the odd times he’d seen babies before. People always tended to use these sweet, high-pitched voices for them. Babytalk. That’s what it was called.

"Hey, Henri, hey hey hey," he cooed, and it seemed to work. "Hey little baby, wanna come say hi?"

Rowe patted the patch of soft rug in front of him. Henri wriggled around for a bit, getting a grip on the sofa cushion and pulling herself up far quicker than Rowe had expected.

From the sink, Master said, "Wow! She’s really doing it!"

"Y-yeah! She’s walking," Rowe replied, forgetting Master’s proper title in his excitement. "You’re walking, Henri."

"Hehe," giggled Henri, enjoying the attention. She waddled over to him until she was so close Rowe could reach out and touch her- could reach out- and before he knew it she was holding onto his finger and shaking his hand around with all her might. Rowe laughed, a quiet, breathless laugh, but it still counted.

With Rowe now supporting her, Henri could focus on using her free hand to pat Rowe’s hair gently. She was so small, and soft. Rowe felt warm and even- protective. For once he wasn’t the vulnerable one.

"You like my hair? It’s your perfect height, isn’t it?"

"Oh, Rowe, this is so cute! She likes your hair! I’ve gotta take a picture of this," Master said, pulling his mobile out and pointing it towards them, "Maggie will go crazy."

God, and Rowe was doing all this talking, and everything felt so weird and exciting, and he knew it couldn’t last, but he was enjoying it so much right now. Henri was going pap pap pap in his hair, and all his attention was on her. He squished her palm between his thumb and forefinger and Henri burbled happily.

"I thought y-you said she didn’t know you had a Pet, Master?"

Tomas furrowed his eyebrows behind the camera. "Not yet. But I thought… this might be a good way of softening the surprise. Smile!"

Rowe smiled, and it was a very easy order to obey.

tagging the gang but as always let me know if you’d rather only get tagged for main chapters! <3

@sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @misspelledwitch @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk @ghostcomit @cupcakes-and-pain @frankieswhump @ihaventwritteninsolong @mybrokenlittletoy @kiretto-laorentze @morelikepainsley @lave-e @tears-and-lilies @whump-me-all-night-long

#tomas and rowe #also cw: DISGUSTING fluff and cuteness #at least i HOPE ITS CUTE #i debated for SO LONG if i could bring myself to write hewwo #kldfksjfkslfs #ALSO I totally thought of sam when tomas took a picture of them #i was like fuck.... hes in my brain #pet whump/#dehumanisation/

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saferemercer · 3 years

Text

Worthy

June 26th, Late Evening, After the Queen’s Gala

"There ya go lass, she's all set for yeh!"

Safere glanced at the dwarf gryphon master, still holding the winning ticket in her hand. To the right of her, stood Snowbeak, the majestic, white Wildhammer gryphon she had just won in a high society raffle. The beast was immaculate; feathers shining in the moonlight, beak seemingly polished to a mirror sheen and talons sharp as adamantine steel. She was straight out of a storybook.

Safere looked down at her rented tuxedo; a crab meat stain on her collar, one cufflink gone and her shoes having stepped in something grey and slimy. She didn’t want to think about that too much. All in all, she felt pretty damn foolish standing in front of this paragon of gryphon-kind, ready to take her as a mount.

“So uh...you have any tips for how to...uh, care for her?” she asked. “I mean...I have another gryphon, but he’s older and kinda half-blind…”

The dwarf chuckled, unlatching the gryphon’s chains. “Oh, Snowbeak is ah’ feisty young lass, she’s gonna want ta’ fly around prettah’ often. You’ve got ah’ roost fer her, yeah?”

Safere rubbed the back of her head. “Yeah...definitely,” she hoped.

“Good, good. She needs tha’ best of care! You gala types can manage that, ah’m sure. You ah’ knight or ah’ cleric of some kind?”

Safere rubbed her head, harder. “I’m...a...uh, protector.”

“Protector! Ha, tha’ sounds good! Yeah, Snowbeak is fit fer the grandest of adventures. The soarin’ clouds, the tallest mountains, the greatest-”

“I get it, I get it,” Safere said, through gritted teeth. “I’m...sure we’ll have a wonderful time together.”

The dwarf shrugged and gave Snowbeak a final pat on the snout, before he opened the gate and led her out of the pen. Safere walked up to her, trembling just a little. She raised a hand and brought it down to touch her beak. The gryphon stared into her eyes, as she was touched. Safere swore she could sense a subtle disappointment in those eyes. She sighed.

“I know, Snowbeak...we’ll...make this work,” Safere said, now starting to regret ever taking a raffle ticket.

July 20th, Mid Evening, Crowsfield.

Snowbeak was screaming at her. Well, squawking might have been more accurate, but it sure felt like screaming to Safere. If the beast could speak common, she had an idea of the level of vitriol she’d be experiencing right now.

“I know, I get it, you’re angry!” Safere grumbled, trying to clean her feathers with an old brush. “We don’t...we don’t fly as often as you’d like...and I wish I could fix that, but I just...don’t travel as often as some people. Ok?! Buddy doesn’t mind, do ya pal?”

She turned to the black gryphon in the pen next to her. The cross-eyed, older gryphon was chewing on a large ferret he had caught earlier that day, but in the same way a tired farmer might sip on a tall glass of sweet tea. He was in no rush.

As if Snowbeak could understand Safere’s words (she was almost certain she could, some days), the majestic gryphon snorted at her, in seeming disgust.

Safere sighed. “Yeah, I know, you don’t like being compared to Buddy. But he’s the only gryphon I’ve ever really known before, so maybe we can just-”

Snowbeak raised her legs and flapped her wings right in Safere’s face, knocking her to the ground, landing flat on her ass in the dirt.

“Oh, fine!” Safere shouted, lying down in defeat. “Have it your way! I’ll just let you-”

“Might I be of assistance, Miss Mercer?”

She looked up to see a man in copper colored armor, standing above her, offering a hand. She turned around and gripped his palm, rising back to her feet. She recognized the man immediately. He was the only one she knew who would wear a fully enclosed helm in such sweltering weather.

“Mordecai, right?” Safere asked, despite knowing she was right. She just..hadn’t spoken to him that much.

He nodded. “Indeed, Miss Mercer. Mordecai Sharpe, at your service.” He sounded calm and helpful, even if his expression was entirely unreadable. That copper-colored mask he wore always bore the same neutral, placid expression. His eyes were the only thing that could be seen. Kind brown orbs, blinking every so often.

Safere sighed, dusting off her trousers. “Well, uh, have you got any experience with gryphons? At least more than I do?”

Mordecai nodded once more. “I rode one for nearly a decade. Back when I was a more...active member of The Silver Hand. She was a gorgeous creature, fair and swift...but I didn’t appreciate her at the time.”

Safere blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I...neglected her,” he began to say. “Not in the sense of health or feeding, I assure you. I always kept her well fed, clean and cared for. Until the day she died, she never missed a meal, nor was she abused. But…”

The man’s shoulders fell, for but a moment. “I didn’t truly appreciate her. I never even named her. Not really. Whenever a fellow knight would ask me, I would say something like...Silverwing or Judgment. But it was a hollow excuse for a title. I simply didn’t care. She was a beast to be used for glory. Much like a sword or a shield. Cared for, certainly. But never loved. Never seen as more than a tool.”

Mordecai turned to look at the gryphons. “Do I have your leave to approach her?”

“Sure,” Safere replied, shrugging. “Just be ready, because she’s in a mood.”

He walked up to Snowbeak, slowly reaching into a pouch on his waist and retrieving a handful of wildberries. Once he reached the gryphon, he held out his palm and let her eat from it. She did so with some trepidation, but soon enough, had cleaned his gauntlet entirely. She then leaned her head against his arm, as he stroked her gently.

“A beautiful lady...you should be very-”

“HELP!”

Mordecai and Safere turned around to see a young woman running toward them, a distraught expression on her face. The paladin ran forward to meet her halfway.

"Miss, what is wrong?!"

"Please, they took my brother, please they took him into the forest-"

He laid a hand on her shoulder...and she seemed to calm down, enough to explain more clearly, at least. By then, Safere had joined Mordecai by his side and was listening closely.

"She took Theodore, the...some witch, I saw her snatch him from his bedroom window and take him into the moor! I tried to run after her, but these...skeletons rose up from the dirt! Undead monsters! Out in the Bleakmoor! Please sir, miss…please help my brother…” the girl wailed, tears welling in her brown eyes.

“We have no time to lose. Miss, return to your home and wait for us there. We will find him. Safere,” Mordecai said, turning to face her. “Might we-”

She nodded, already running back to Buddy. “Come on!” she called back. Fiddling with her ebon gryphon’s chain, Safere mounted him and pulled the reins. He may have been an older gent, but Buddy knew when it was time to get serious. Years of getting Safere out of sticky situations had given him a kind of sixth sense. He rose to his feet and flapped his wings, ready to burst off.

Mordecai was running up now, while the young woman returned to her homestead. He looked at Buddy and Safere. “I...don’t know if I’ll be able to fit on there with you. Or if your gryphon can carry my extra bulk,” he said, gesturing to his mix of chain and plate mail. “Perhaps if-”

Safere shook her head. “You’re taking Snowbeak!”

The paladin shook his head. “No, miss Safere, she is yo-”

“This is not the time to argue, pal! Get to it!” Safere shouted.

Mordecai nodded and ran to the ivory bird, expertly climbing upon her saddle without even a wayward twitch from the proud beast. She shrieked out a battle-squawk and took to the air almost immediately, leaving Safere and Buddy to catch up.

They were soaring above the hills now, keeping low enough to spot any figures...if it wasn’t so bloody dark.

“I can’t see a damn thing down there!” Safere shouted, the wind coursing through her hair.

“Let us remedy that,” Mordecai roared back. “Cover your eyes, Mercer! For just a moment!”

Safere did as she was told, bringing her wrist back across her eyes, just as the night turned to sunrise in front of her. Her peripheral vision was a holy inferno, but it soon faded enough until she felt comfortable to gaze openly again. Mordecai was still glowing, casting a net of light across the hilly moor below.

“There!” he said, pointing down. Sure enough, no longer shrouded beneath a barrow-hill, Safere could spot a crowd of figures. Over a dozen skeletal warriors, covered still in the dirt and grime of their former resting places. Most gripped broken hatchets and rusted blades. A couple held ancient shortbows. These two decrepit snipers took aim as Safere and Mordecai came down upon them. With surprising dexterity, an arrow was loosed, aimed right at Snowbeak’s chest.

But the gryphon saw it coming, swiping the missile away with a talon. The other shot toward Safere and Buddy; its aim was less true, allowing them to dodge the projectile with a quick turn. By then, the two of them were landing. Hard.

Snowbeak smashed into the center of the undead, scattering two of the boney bastards into splinters. Mordecai pulled his great morningstar from his shoulders, the flanged head gleaming with golden fire, as he slammed it into the rotting ribcage of another, crushing the sternum and wasting the foul creature away.

Safere came down less glamorously, but no less effective. Her cutlass in one hand, silver edged and shining, slicing through the skull of the axe wielding monster nearest to her. The foolish archer she had landed by, tried to swat Buddy with his bow, only for the elder gryphon to grab him in his beak and snap his spine.

“Interlopers!” A shrill voice screamed. Safere turned to see a wretched old hag, twisted and deformed, holding a young boy by the scruff of his pajamas. The child was wailing, kicking at his captor, to seemingly no avail. “You will not stop the sacrifice to Gorak Tul!”

“Gorak Tul is vanquished, fiend! Killed in his own realm of shadow and failure!” Mordecai growled, shattering the knees of an approaching skeleton. “You will accomplish nothing!”

“Yeah, you suck!” Safere helpfully added, stabbing another undead.

“Fools! Gorak Tul’s spirit lingers, forever! And I will be his new bride!” the witch shrieked, raising a twisted dagger to the child’s throat. “The boy’s blood will show me the way!”

Safere grit her teeth, looking around for any options. There were still a half dozen skeletons advancing. Buddy was fighting off one more to her left. Snowbeak...was gone. Where had she-

Mordecai let loose a sharp whistle. The gryphon moved so fast, she was more of a blur of white upon the wind, than any discernible form. Just as the witch had barely begun to look behind her, she was rammed by the Wildhammer gryphon, sending her gangling form flying forward, her loose grip on the boy’s shirt going slack, as he fell a few feet to the ground.

Safere ran over to him, making sure he was unharmed. Aside from some dirt stains and a bruise on his shoulder, he seemed to be fine, if still wailing and terrified. Within that handful of moments, Mordecai, Buddy and Snowbeak had dispatched the handful of remaining skeletons, their bones scattered and unmoving. The witch...lay in a defeated pile nearby, groaning like a sickly weasel.

“You are beaten, monster. Submit and be judged!” Mordecai commanded, his aura pulsing like wildfire. He stood above the subdued wretch, morningstar at her throat.

The witch mewled and raised her elongated arms, in a show of surrender. “I...yes, I am defeated! Oh, brave and powerful paladin! I...submit to your mercy! Please!” Her yellow eyes wide and pleading.

“Mercy! How could a villain such as you deserve-” Mordecai began to say...before stopping and sighing. “Very well, witch. You will come with me, bound and subdued...to be judged by the people of Autumnhearth! And see what mercy they lay upon you!”

The paladin barely shifted his gaze, but for a mere moment, he did glance at his belt, to retrieve a length of rope...only for Safere to watch as the hag began to channel a pale blue energy in her palm.

A Ruinous Bolt! Safere thought to herself. She had been researching just last night. In a flash, she drew her Gnomish pepperbox from the back of her trousers and fired. One, two, three, four…

Her aim did not fail her. Each silver shot ripping into the hag’s flesh, with the last metal ball landing right between her sour yolk-yellow eyes...which made the spell in her palm fade away and the witch slump back onto the ground, as dead as her would to be husband.

Mordecai looked back at the shot riddled body and exhaled. “My thanks, Miss Mercer.”

She nodded, sweat dripping down her forehead. In her arm, the young boy blinked and wiped away tears. “That was...so loud!” he squeaked.

“Ah yeah...sorry about that, Theodore,” Safere said, grimacing. “But it’s over, your sister is waiting for you.”

The boy nodded and hugged her, still crying, but less feverishly. Mordecai came over to him, kneeling down and offering a hand.

“How would you like to fly on a gryphon, master Theodore?” he asked.

For likely the first time that night, the boy smiled.

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

The reunion with Theodore’s sister (Charlotte, they learned) was full of more tears and smiles alike, but the boy was soon returned to his own bed, with a small number of local farmers promising to watch over the house until morning. Mordecai would join them, sitting down by the front fence with Safere. Snowbeak and Buddy waited nearby.

“That was...an exciting evening, wouldn’t you say, Miss Mercer?” Mordecai said, having removed his mask, among the two of them. Safere had seen his burned visage before and grown accustomed to it. The permanent half grin across his partial lips and exposed cheek, were little more than a beauty mark to her by now.

“Hell of a lot more...fighting than I expected, that’s for damn sure,” she said, sipping from a glass of fresh milk. Supplied by Theodore's grateful farming family, after the two of them had refused the meager amount of silver they had scraped together as a reward. “But this is good cow juice.”

Mordecai sipped from his tin straw and nodded. “Indeed. Regardless, you fought well. Thank you again for your expert shooting.”

Safere chugged the last half of her moo-juice and stood up, brushing off her pants. “Don’t mention it, Mordo. Last thing I needed tonight was having to tell Wes that her Warden took a Ruinous Bolt to the chest.”

He chuckled and stood with her. “You recognized the spell? How impressive.”

“Yeah, all that reading paid off, just like Mere said it would,” Safere replied, smiling.

“You make the steward proud, I’m sure,” Mordecai said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Are you returning to Easthollow with your gryphons, then? They’ve had a busy evening too.”

“One of them, yeah,” Safere said.

“Good, I hope they-”

The paladin turned to look at her, confusion in his eyes. “One of them?”

“I’m leaving Snowbeak with you, Mordo. You made an incredible team. And I’ll be damned if I’m gonna break that up.”

Mordecai shook his head, raising a hand in disagreement. “No, Miss Mercer, I couldn’t accept such a-”

“First off, call me Safere. Or Saf, even,” Safere said, making sure her cutlasses were properly attached to her belt. “Secondly, I’m not gonna hear any arguments on this. Snowbeak deserves someone like you. Someone brave and worthy of her. Someone who can make the best use of her skills. And that ain’t me.”

The man was silent for a moment. “You are worthy of more than you think, Mi...Safere. And you are as brave as any champion of the Hand that I’ve ever known. You joined me in the search for Theodore without a second thought. Lent me your steed, without hesitation. Charged into the mass of undead and stood by my side.”

He whistled, causing Snowbeak to trot over. Mordecai rubbed her neck and watched as she nuzzled back. “If this is your desire...your command, I will do so. I will care for and love Snowbeak, as I failed to do for my former steed. But never believe it is because you are unworthy. Promise me this.”

Safere sighed and smiled, looking down at her boots for a second or two. Before returning his gaze and nodding. “I promise.”

He nodded back. “Good. Also, I ask that you bring Buddy along to visit every so often. The two are quite...attached.”

She blinked and looked from Snowbeak to Buddy. The white gryphon was looking back at him, softly cooing. Buddy in turn was waving his wings slowly and...prancing?

“Buddy, you scoundrel!” Safere exclaimed, laughing. “Have you been laying down some moves behind my back?!”

Buddy squaked, shaking his wings and hopping up and down. Snowbeak scraped her talons in the dirt and squawked back.

“Best warn your gryphon master of the possibility of eggs, in the future, eh?” Mordecai cautioned, chuckling along with her.

Safere gave him a thumbs up. “You bet. Keep safe out there, Mordo! See you soon!” She left with a spring in her steps, mounting her flirtatious bird and soaring off toward Easthallow. The wind in her hair felt like energy flowing through her. She let out a loud “woooooooooo!” and grinned.

It had been quite a night to fly.

#warcraft ocs #warcraft story #short story #gryphons #safere #mordecai sharpe

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hawks-is-kinda-chicken-little · 4 years

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Voicemail: Part 3

Hawks x reader

A/n: I swear I am alive, I'm just getting my shit together for college. Anyways have my half-assed attempt at a story plot. I stopped here because I'm going through sad hours and that was really going to affect the rest of the story if I continued, I mean it still might be i’m not sure. No clue how gently I feel like being to everyone's feelings for the last chapter (don’t worry I make myself suffer too).

Part 1

Part 2

-Part 3-

Part 4

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“Not alive at least. They never come back alive.”

Hawks may not have been in the facility anymore, but he could still hear the words through the speaker. After all feathers weren’t the only thing he inherited from the avian species. In-fact, a lot of predatory bird-like qualities were passed down to him, none of which were proving to be any aid.

Endeavor exited the facility talking to some of the other heroes who were caring for the two children. He looked towards the clouds watching the desperate hero who was barely able to flap his wings in a steady momentum to keep him airborne. Twitching here and there causing his flow to stutter. Feathers puffed up clearly agitated, but some others sharpened to a dangerous level. It was truly a pitiful sight. From the looks of it, Hawks was nowhere near ready to calm down. Hands were shaking while switching from clenching to unclenching, desperately wanting to hold on to something. Nail marks were indented in the palms of his gloves. Anxiety and agony evidently overriding every morsel of reason that survived up to this point. His eyes never stopped searching, gaze switching from place to place as light-speed. Endeavor could practically taste the burning red rage sourly seething through Hawks every movement. But, nothing Endeavor could say would bring Hawks from his agitated state. He had to let it fly its course. Only then would Endeavor be able to pull him back to one of the agencies where they could recuperate.

Lucky for the heroes, they had detained all the henchmen left to guard the facility. They might be able to strangle some information out of them. But, it was kinda strange that the main man would leave them there knowing that the heroes were en-route. However, as Rumi noted, leaving those men there perfectly diverted their attention from the escaping vehicle. A smart move on the abductors part.

The League was pretty pissed about the whole shebang. Torturing the earlier captured men in a more gruesome manner out of pure rage. In doing so, one of them squeaked about some sort of airport. Oh, now those two were in even deeper shit. Dabi was nice enough to inform Hawks about this new information though. Calling him over for a nice group beating.

“That’s all I know swea- ack”

Smack!

Blood splattered the ground, painting over old splotches littering the place.

Crack!

One of many bones to be shattered but the blunt head of the bat.

“I’ll ask this one for time- What fucking airport?”

Silence.

Crack!

“Hawks, the guys’ gonna be dead before you get an answer, or at least a feasible one,” Dabi grunted.

“Fucking hell,” Hawks cursed, slinging the blood dripping bat to the side of the room with an echoing thud as the wood teetered from end to end until it settled. Hands shooting to clench his golden locks in an iron grip. He squatted to the floor, head hanging low, trying to fight the urges of a predator whose prey sits before them utterly helpless.

A scarred hand grabbed Hawks’ shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. Hawks shifted his head slightly, just enough so that he could eye Dabi's own eyes from the side. So many emotions swirled within those baby blue pools of fire. Remorse, agitation, worry, and so much more, all together forming a dangerous poison. A poison which would make poor souls scream in agony for death. Something Keigo would be glad to provide.

Now the two might now get along most of the time, but when facing a common goal, they are not a pair to be trifled with.

The men in the chairs started struggles in the ropes that tied them to the splintering chair. Pulling hopelessly with all their might, but to no avail. Dabi and Hawks shifted their eyes to the bastards in front of them.

The hand, not on Hawks’ shoulder, was raised to the man's face level, resting inches away. Smoke began flaring from Dabi’s scared palm, small blue flames flickered around the heel as it heated up. The heat alone was enough to singe the man’s facial hair. Terror welled in the man’s expression as the hand was brought closer, making him whimper.

“Let's try this again.”

Horrid fumes of burnt flesh swirled throughout the air. The man was a tough one to crack, Dabi knew he would come around, he just needed a little encouragement. They got the information they wanted him. Hawks had pity on the bastard, taking a feather, slitting his throat with one quick slash. The other man could do nothing but watch as his comrade bleed out.

“Don’t worry pal, my boss has plans for you.”

No matter how much he tried to scream all that would come out was muffled sludge blocked by the gag. Dabi, patted his ashy hand on the man’s head before walking towards the door with Hawks following on his heels. The man’s thrashing only increased as he door slammed closed, leaving him with the freshly fried corpse of the other one.

“What’s the plan from here?” Dabi asked.

“If they wanted to sneak on the plane unnoticed, they would have to do it at night, when no one else could potentially spot them.”

“It's a private jet though.”

“Yes, but the guys said it was being held with other private jets.”

“Whatever, your dumbass logic gives me a headache sometimes.”

Twice popped out around the corner where they were talking.

“Please don’t screw each other in the lobby.”

“Twice, what the hell. I would rather set myself on fire.”

Hawks gave Dabi an offended glare. Dabi in return rolled his eyes, walking away from Hawks.

“Just hurry up. Go get your boy scout in line and save her already”

“Who said I was doing this as a hero?”

Dabi halted, back facing Hawks. A smirk tugged at the corners of his charred lips as his eyes darkened.

“You don’t have the balls to fly that far from the nest bud. Your stupid heroes commission the only things you truly value in society.”

Hawks glared, but held his tongue. Dabi glared back with just as much hatred taking a couple of steps back towards the winged hero.

“That damned heroes commission seems to be the only thing you seem to stay faithful to.”

“What the Hell does that mean?” Hawks squawked.

“It means you are more likely to leave her for the vultures before ignoring your duties to those shitholes. Oh, wait a second, that's exactly what you did.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Really now? So let me get this straight, you didn’t push her away, become a complete asshole to her because of them. Hawks at the end of the day all that matters in that brainwashed head of yours is that shitty organisation.”

“Shut up.”

“Fine, let's pretend that it wasn’t the commission pulling the strings. In that case, you are a really shitty person. I mean, you ARE the reason they're in this mess to begin with.” Hawks’ blood ran cold, Dabi gave an exasperated chuckle “What makes you think she even wants YOUR help?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Oh how you harm me with your words.” Dabi mocked

“Who’s fucking side are you on? Where the hell is this coming from?”

“Let’s be clear about one thing, birdbrain, just because I want her safe doesn’t mean i’m on your side. You fucked up. And that guilt is only because you feel responsible for her kidnapping, it isn’t because you’re disgusted with all the shit you put her through. So listen when I say-”

“No, you listen here, asshole. Do you honestly think I can't see the damage I did? I am not making an excuse for my behavior, looking back I can see how fucked up I was towards her. I was blessed with an angel, I had never in my life been genuinely cared about. I had never been so committed to someone, so attached to another person. Someone who felt the exact way as I did. It was terrifying.” Hawks paused face falling downwards, scrunching up to fight away the tears building up. “I didn’t have the balls to face her as time went on, so I did what I did best, I put up a front and moved forward. Avoiding our relationship, avoiding her, just because I was scared of commitment. I never bothered to think about the effects it might have had on her. I’m a real douche for doing it and I know it.”

“Shame what it took for you to figure that out.”

There was nothing sympathetic in Dabi’s tone, no, it was as sour as biting into a ripe bitter melon. Hawks said nothing, he was right after all.

“Go home Keigo. You're not welcome here right now.”

Dabi watched as Hawks turned and walked to the door. Waiting till he was about to close the door on his way out to let out one final stab.

“Oh and Keigo,” Hawks paused “when she’s safe, hope she realizes you’re not worth it.”

SLAM!

Dabi was pretty sure Hawks broke some of the hinges when he shut it behind him.

“Bastard,” He muttered, clearly not into Hawks’ delinquent behavior. Dabi stomped off to the bar to talk to the others about what to do next.

What the actual fuck, Hawks thought as he took off into the dusk set skies. Yes, he knows he screwed this up, Dabi didn’t need to rub it in anymore.

Taking out his phone, Hawks shot a text to Rumi informing her of the newly found information. It was always kind of surprising that no other hero ever questioned where all his exclusive information came from, but oh well. Hawks went straight for the place, not giving anyone time to regroup and set out a plan. It didn’t do much good last time and he wasn’t willing to risk it again. He had an hour or so before the moon set in place, if he was lucky he would make it there before anyone else did.

Wings soared through the clouds as he scanned the area below, searching for the facility. His sights locked onto a large gated perimeter, surrounding multiple runways connected to a couple of buildings housing the aircrafts. It was one of the many private airports in Tokyo, a place where the rich kept their collection of aircrafts. Hawks descended to a large window in the center of the middle building in the facility. The place seemed to be more of a showcase then anything, some of the jets looked like there were fresh out of manufacturing.

The place looked empty, no sign of any life in the facility. If it wasn’t for his abnormal vision he would be able to see anything in the pitch black room. No gates or doors were open, no runway lights shined behind him, no unusual vehicles were in sight. So either he beat everyone here, or he’s got the wrong place.

He was about to take back off into the sky when he spotted a jet that matched the description the man gave him. A sleek black metal covering, twelve square windows spaced evenly on each side of the jet’s middle, matte silver nose, blood red paint rimming the edges of the wings. It was big enough to carry a small army. The jet seemed a little out of place next to all the smaller, more compact aircraft.

It was clear the jet had yet to be tampered with. They must be waiting till the moon was at its highest to hide their escape. If that was the case they would be there for another hour or so meaning Hawks could have a look around the place. Maybe sabotage the plane enough that it might not function properly.

Using a feather Hawks carves out a circle into the glass, just big enough that he could fight through and not get stuck. The tricky part was putting the glass back into place so that the bastards weren’t suspicious of the giant whole in the window. But, he managed to do it with only a couple of close calls.

Though he was alone, Hawks still had to be careful nonetheless. Fingers felt around the side of his goggles in search of the night vision button. However, a glowing group of infrared blobs that only grew bigger by the second appeared in his sights. With great haste Hawks hide in the cramped empty space behind one of the two stairwells one either side of the balcony of the window. The tight squeeze forced his wings to fold into uncomfortable positions against the base of his back.

It stopped right outside the giant corridors leading out to the building runway. While his the blurriness of the image made it hard to fully make out he counted seven or nine of the now van sized blobs. The one in the middle was to first to make any sort of move, a panel sliding to the side as figures exited the vehicle. Others to the right and left followed suit. All filing out into the open, crowding to the center one. Though all the bodies it was he could barely make out a body hauled out onto the ground next to boxes gathered for the other vans. His attention was so zeroed in on the limp body that he didn’t notice the dozen or so figures heading for the corridor.

CREEEEAAAAK!!

The heavy metal scraped against the asphalt as it was forcefully pried open by the figures. They didn’t fully peel the doors back though, only enough so that a couple of men could head in. About six men entered the dark area, flashlights swinging around in search of anything intruder. Hawks scrunched farther into the wall, missing the beams of the one of them by millimetres allowing him to go unnoticed by the men. The continued their inspection, not very thoroughly Hawks noted, until they each gave a thumbs up signally to the others nothing was out of place.

“All clear,” One of them yelled out behind.

All six men then approach the designated aircraft. Hawks wanted to bang his head on the wall from his own stupidity, since he chose the staircase opposite of the plane.

He let out a quiet hiss of frustration; “dammit.”

Biting the inside of his cheek he started trying to devise a plan. Maybe, just maybe, he could sneak some feathers inside to take them out. So he did just that, sending one feather for each man and one extra just in case.

The men had clearly let their guard drop as they focused on their tasks. He had no problem maneuvering the feathers around them as they worked. Two men were in the cockpit, two in the carriage, one taking storage in the backroom, and the last of the six was making his way to the single bathroom of the aircraft.

The man made his way to the bathroom, stripping off his pants before pulling out a phone and doing some unspeakable things that made Hawks want to vomit in his tiny corner. The poor guy had no clue that he was going to be the first to go, Hawks literally caught the bastard with his pants down. A mental note was made to just leave the dagger in his chest, after everything he just witnessed with that feather there was no way he wanted it back in his plumage.

One down, five to go and next up was the storage guy. A feather hovered right above the back of the guy as he checked off boxes on his clipboard. Moving forward, but still sticking to the wall in order to give the feather a better angle to slash his neck. However, the bright colors contrasted with the white wall, catching the attention of the man.

“What the fuc-”

Swish

It sliced through the air, not giving the man any time to process the situation. Hands instinctively flew to his throat in a pathetic attempt to stop the life escaping him. Bright red blood seeped through the cracks between his fingers, leaking down his front as he wobbled on his feet. The harsh thud of a body crashing to the floor never sounded through the air as the feather slipped down the back of his shirt to guide him quietly to the ground. Once he was laid out noiselessly on the now red stained ground the feather took off to regroup.

They all stayed as flat as paper against the slick interior of the plane, making sure never to be in the line of sight. Three feathers arrived at their next destination, the passenger section. The two men were just goofing off. Neglecting their assigned duties in favor of gossiping like highschool girls. Hawks could help the twitching of his upper lip, sharp canines baring each time the muscles spasmed. Sexist comments were slurred back and forth between them as they talked about his dove. Feral instincts screamed at him torture them till they were pleading for death. But, he needed to keep his composure or else risk getting caught and that was not something he could really afford right now.

The feathers slithered down the aisle when the assholes turned their backs to one another. One feather took off to lock the cockpit hatch from the outside, making the two on the inside unable to interrupt Hawks. Both the men were facing the side wall of the aircraft making it easy to string two feathers into position to swoop up and dispose of them just like like the now rotting corpse in the storage compartment.

Swish

Hawks really wished he could have prolonged their suffering, but he had more important matters to worry about, unlike those sexist bastards. Oh well, he would just have to be sure to spit on their corpses later.

The last two in the cockpit worked to get the carrier up and running. Hawks could hear them from the two feathers locking inside with them as they ran their diagnostics. Just as the feathers were about to capture their lives the roaring of an engine coming to life sounded throughout the facility. Blinding bright headlights buzzed on pointing to the corridors as if asking to be let out.

CREEEEAAAAK

Hawks peered over the corner of the wall hiding him, he saw more men pulling the door fully apart to make way for the giant aircraft. With all the new lighting Hawks had to turn off the night vision mode on his goggles so he could see. Through the orange tint of his lenses he could spot [y/n]’s limp body laying on her side facing him through the legs of the surrounding guards. Her whole body looked as though they just threw her to the asphalt from the van door. A grimy brown sack covered her head that hung to the floor slightly supported by the shoulder on the ground unnaturally scrunched up by her neck. He could see the raw skin surrounding the bonds tightly wired around her bare wrists. What really unnerved him was the slow unsteady half-rise of her chest every so often. He doesn’t know if it was due to the bag covering her airway or the utterly traumatized state of her body, but it wasn’t hard to tell her lungs were starting to give way. There was no way in Hell she would make it through the plane ride. She needed medical attention and she needed it fast.

The shifting of wheels brought Hawks out of his panic as the aircraft propellers spun around in place, making the plane go forward ever so slightly. It stopped one it was centered with the doors in the front of the facility. If he slashed his feathers upon them it would surely arm the onlookers. Eyes once again shifted to the body of his dove.

Helpless. He couldn’t make a move without stirring up their attention. And if they threatened her, there wasn’t even a sliver of a chance he would make it in time.

TING

The sound echoed out from his pocket. The phone vibrated letting out another sound to alert him of a notification.

Hawks’ heart dropped to the ground as everything around him moved in slow motion. Heads took their time spinning in his direction when in reality they snapped his way in milliseconds.

He didn’t have time to look at his phone as bullets flew his way. Faster than ever, he took to the air, dodging the oncoming hellfire. Since all was turning to shit, the two cockpit feathers slashed the hell out of the men inside with zero mercy whatsoever. Using some spare feathers he sent them lashing at the tires preventing their second escape. He’d rather be plucked for everything he was worth before letting them get away again, especially not when they were so close.

His earpiece rang to life as he wound through the air.

“What the fuck is happening” a harsh feminine voice that sounded like Rumi screamed from the other side.

“Shit hit the fan, send help.”

That was all he could say before getting nailed in the right shoulder. Wings stuttered in shock, but adrenaline pushed them to keep flapping.

“Hawks!” She called.

He could barely hear her through the blazing bullets piercing through the air.

“Heading….. Minutes…… Endeavor…… Way.”

Static cut out sentences leaving him with only a couple of words from the other line. He didn’t have time to decode the meaning though.

In the midst of frantic maneuvering a blast of fire hit the window behind him sending him flying forward as a bullet lodged itself in his right thigh.

“Friendly fire!” He screamed behind him.

Now shit was really hitting the fan, Hawks thought to himself as he looped through the new hole created by none other than Endeavor. He made his way to the top of the building, the roof partially deflecting some of the ammunition flying at light speed. A new wave of confidence gassed his system with the brigade of heroes quickly approaching from behind.

“I know I annoy you, but do ya really need to fry me right now?”

Endeavor only grunted as he landed next to the winged hero, Rumi was soon to join them. The bullets had ceased to pierce the air for a moment, Hawks could hear the head guy yelling at his underlines like an abusive dog owner. Naturally they tried to retreat to their vehicles, but found the tires were lacerated enough that they were rendered useless. The yell turned into hushed whispers.

All heroes crowded up onto the roof, hastily devising a plan that would hopefully let them safely extract the beaten girl. Time was ticking fast as two beautiful lives were draining from the mother's body every wasted second. They needed to make a move and they needed to do it now.

“Fuck plans”

“Hawks don’t be rash”

Endeavor could get fucked by fire for all Hawks cared. He was going in sending flocks of lethal feathers to shred them while he used the remaining feathers to take to the sky.

It only escalated from there on. Quirks were activated from both ends, but the heroes had to be careful, they may have the upper hand power wise, but the enemies had a hostage. Hawks could see his dove start to stir among all the commotion, but his attention was quickly redirected as a first sent him flying into a wall.

In the midst of the battle one of the lackey’s managed to discreetly snag [y/n] and a couple of the packages into a small aircraft. All which were messily tossed into the back of the cargo compartment before jumping in the control seat. All engines were a go and it was off to the runway from there, splattering some of his comrades into the pavement on the way. Hawks wasn’t having it though, redirecting all of the feathers slashing around to chase the jet as it wobbled in the sky.

“Your feathers are going to do jackshit, GO!” Rumi encouraged, no longer holding back.

That was all he needed to hear, as he darted to the air, targeting with pinpoint accuracy. The door of the storage holder on the side of the jet cracked open. Opening more and more as the pilot tried to steady the plane in the sky. The jet lagged in the sky as it swerved to the side making package after package plummet out. Hawks was tailing the jet, but the pilot kept taking sharp turns to try and lose him.

Hawks spotted [y/n’s body starting to slip to the edge of the open door. One final turn from the unsteady jet was all it took to send her descending into the air. Hawks immediately dove after her, wings tucking flat to increase his speed, arms stretching out towards her, hands ready to snatch her at the first given chance.

The ground was approaching uncomfortable fast. [Y/n] was just out of his reach, fingertips brushing against her own.

His wings gave one last flutter against his back, pushing him just far enough to reach her forearm. Hawks latch his hand onto her arm hauling her into his arms before spreading his scarlet wings in an attempt to catch in the air. A hiss passed his lips as the opposing velocity strained the muscles at the base of his wings.

Just before the hit the ground Hawks caught his bearings, letting them at least land somewhat safely. He stumbled on the turf, the hand that wasn’t holding [y/n] shot out to the ground where he keeled making sure to not fall over onto her. They landed a mile or so from the gates of the airport.

BOOM!

Hawks watched as sparks erupted from an explosion a little ways from them. Looks like the poor bastard couldn’t fly after all.

His breath was heaving, the adrenaline of the situation still pumping through his body. Lifting his hand from the ground he untied the rope holding the sack over her head, pulling it off, freeing her beaten face. Scarce breaths passed through her cracked lips.

Hawks was quick to let the rest know he had her. Endeavor let out a sigh of relief through the otherside of the line. Rumi yelled with happiness. When asking about her condition, he was hesitant to say anything, only saying that he was rushing her to urgent care immediately.

Weakly she stirred in his arms, whimpering as her bound wrist rubbed the harsh unforgiving rope peeling her already raw skin. Hawks plucked a feather, slashing her wrist and ankle constraints, finally setting her aching limbs free. Tears welled in his eyes, partly because she was now in his arms once again and partly because she was suffering in his arms.

“Shhhhh, baby bird, I’m gonna get you some help okay?”

He couldn’t tell if she heard him, but he wasn’t going to bother waiting for a reply. Wings spread behind him once more, screaming at him from pure agonizing torture they had already suffered. Limbs burned, fire setting every vein ablaze with even the slightest of moments.

All it took once one more heart wrenching soft cry passing her lips to get the adrenaline rushing again. No wound or pain could hold him down as he flapped his wings aggressively through the thin air. He kept staggering up to the clouds and low to the ground. It was definitely not his smoothest flight, but it was doing the job. She was held securely in a tight embrace against his chest. One of his hands gently caressed her cheek with the thumb in an attempt to pass her his wordless love.

Some of the feathers started to give from those once giant eyes. Every feather lost was another piece of [y/n] drifting to the light of eternal rest. She was a rose that was slowly shedding its abused petals, wilting from the mortal world.

Hawks could see the hospital in his sights, in his moment of overwhelming relief he almost hit the ground, but luckily he was able to bring them both up just in time.

White doors slammed over as a body crashed onto the hospital lobby tile. The receptionist rushed over to the counter spotting the hero, wings clings around his front to cushion their landing. Looking at the lady in scrubs he lifted one of his wings revealing the beaten woman he cradled to his chest. The lady screamed for help as doctors and nurses flooded the room. A stretcher was brought in as [y/n] was carted into one of the back rooms, nurses flocking the stretcher trying to assess her state.

A separate stretcher was brought in for him. A light smile graced his face as he watched them take care of her while they hauled him onto the cart. One of the nurses was trying to ask him questions, but he paid them no mind, only watching his dove.

The smile quickly faded as he saw more doctors dash to her room, panicked expressions present on each of their faces. He tried to stay awake, he tried to hear what was going on, but the last thing he heard was a doctor yelling one word that echoed in his ears even as he lost touch with reality.

“CLEAR!”

Then everything went black.

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Also I want to thank you all for reading this, it makes me so happy. I literally cried at all the love you all gave the first chapter. I wish I was kidding I actually cried.

TAGS:

@assassinslittlesister @anxiousgoddest @moonpawss @regularkacchan @austriasmariazelle @murkyrosewrite @hawksexual @imuziawi

#bnha fanfiction #my hero academia #hawks x reader #bnha keigo takami #boku no hero academia #mha #hawks #keigo takami

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