#Fast data transfer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

motherroam-rs · 2 months

Text

Unattached

Fives x Fem!Reader

NSFW Ahead Minors DNI 18+!!!

A/N: To all the girls who wish they lost their virginity to a clone trooper - this one’s for us.

Tags/Warnings: Loss of virginity, Best Friends to Lovers, Alcohol, Gambling, Lil bit of angst, Fluff, Smut, Oral Sex (F! Receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Slow burn (technically), Love Confessions, Happy Ending!!

Summary: Since the moment you were transferred to the 501’st as a Civ Medic you and Fives gravitated towards each other and over many months of friendship you can’t help but slowly fall for the charming ARC Trooper. The tension only increases when he finds out just how inexperienced you are.

Word Count: 9.8k

(For clarification, the italics are flashbacks)

The data pad read ‘Order for Civilian Medic Transfer’, which is really just a nicer way of saying ‘You can’t do anything about this, so just accept it and suffer’.

You had no choice when you were inevitably rotated between legions, untethered. Your newest order was to the 501st, and you find yourself standing in an empty Medbay; it’s quiet. Too quiet. You’ve either been fortunately assigned to a legion that didn’t see much action, if that were even possible, or you were stood in the eye of a hurricane.

Your eyes are caught on the tattoo across the scalp of the head medic, ‘A good droid is a dead one’ and you suppress a smile at the sentiment. It’s why you were needed - clones weren’t fond of droids, even those programmed for medical purposes.

“New?” The clone asks, eyes focused on a datapad. You weren’t, not by any means, you had been rotated countless times over the duration of the clone wars. But, you already begin preparing yourself for the usual gruff demeanour that often greeted you, although you were better than a droid, to many clones you were still just a ‘Civ’, despite the many sleepless nights of studying and GAR medical training.

“No, sir, transferred from the 104th.” You keep your words short, formal, but the clone medic’s eyes light up in recognition.

“Under Commander Wolffe?” He asks, a hint of surprise in his tone as he actually looks away from the datapad.

“Briefly,” you admit, recalling how just a few days before the commander in question practically growled at you when you had to check his eye. You lasted a week there. “I was with the 212th before that.”

The head medic eyes you with a curious look, waiting for you to elaborate, so you continued, “Typically Civ medics are just seen as temporary by the head medic, until a clone medic becomes available.” You explain, perhaps a bit too fast. How many times could you fit the word medic in that sentence? You internally groan, but he gives a small hum of acknowledgement, whether it was in agreement or disagreement of your statement, his face didn’t betray him either way.

“Go get yourself settled, and then report back here in an hour.” He says with a slight sigh, passing you the datapad, a blinking spot on the screen indicating where your bunk is - at least this time you weren’t in the shared barracks. “We’ve only just got back from being planetside on Coruscant for a week.” Ah, that answers the question of why it had been so quiet then.

“Thank you, sir.” You nod, picking up your small pack of personal belongings, it wasn’t much, but it was the only anchor you had when you were transferred around so often.

“Kix is fine.” He nods, giving you a genuine smile. “Welcome to the 501st.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The small room is thrumming with energy that’s been ignited from an evening of drinking following a particularly rough mission for the men. Contraband in the form of amber liquid that burns your throat and fuels bad decisions, is grouped together on a small crate you’ve been using as a makeshift table for the evening.

You’re currently sitting on the floor, leaning against a crate next to Fives as he divulges details to you about their most recent mission. Details that you probably aren’t supposed to know, but he tells you anyways, because ‘what are friends for if not to impress’, he had once told you with a sly wink.

You knew most of the other Civ workers in the GAR weren’t as close to the clones they served with as you were. In all of the legions you had been bounced around from, there was a clear divide between the small number of Civ members, compared to the clones. But in the 501’st, those theoretical lines were blurred, or probably didn’t exist at all, with how Fives’s arm settled around your shoulder. He always had been the most friendly out of his brothers.

Your attention is drawn away from the warm expression of your friend, and you groan as you catch Jesse and Hardcase standing side by side, comparing their lengths.

“Put it away, for the last time they’re all the same size!” You call out with a laugh, making Fives frown and whip around as he’s been interrupted from your conversation.

“Know from experience with clones?” Jesse sends you a drunken wink as his hands sloppily stuffs the offending body part back into his blacks.

“Medical experience with clones.” Your face almost hurts from smiling as you shake your head, before turning back to Fives. It’s faint and fleeting, but a look of annoyance crosses his features. You’re not awarded the opportunity to ask about it though, because he’s already delving into another over-exaggerated story of how he took out a whole group of droids on his own.

You wouldn’t really care if they all weren’t true, you just enjoyed hearing him talk. The man could make even the most boring senate conversations interesting, you’re sure of it. So you smile, hooked onto each of his words, cursing the way your heart beats too fast when he reaches out to push away some hair that's fallen from the usual tight bun you have to wear it in. His fingers graze the skin of your cheek, leaving a burning trail.

It’s a small gesture that doesn’t even break the rhythm of his conversation. The touches are natural, instinctive on his part. He’s always touching you - you know to him it means nothing more than that, but your tell-tale racing heart screams at you that you wish it did.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once you had returned from being settled in, Kix had directed you to some neatly stacked crates containing new medical supplies to restock the old ones. Your sluggish movements remind you just how little sleep you’d managed on the transport here from the 104th, your body was still aching from the hours spent laying on the durasteel floor between containers of explosives. Not the best sleep you’ve had, and surprisingly not the worst.

“Hey Kix, can you tell me if this looks infected?” A voice pulls you from your thoughts, alerting you to the attention of a topless clone trooper, something that no longer phased you given how many entirely naked clones you had treated. Upon seeing you, the clone goes from being relaxed to formal instantly, clearing his throat as he fumbled to get the top half of his blacks on.

“You,” he clears his throat, his voice now adopting the typical ‘trooper at attention’ tone as he pulls the clothing over his head, “Are not Kix.” His top blacks are on backwards, and he runs a finger along the collar which now presses uncomfortably to his flushed neck.

“No, I’m not.” You agree with him, suppressing a small smile at how he looks caught off guard, from his surprised expression you may as well be a battle droid standing in the medical bay.

“May I?” You gesture to his top, and he reluctantly removes it once more, taking a seat on a free bed. You see his issue, a common rash splaying across his shoulders from where his armour has been rubbing his skin through his blacks.

“You’re the new medic?” He sounds more nervous than you are, his jaw tensing when you run your fingers along the rash, checking for any signs of infection.

You give a small hum, confirming he’s correct as you step away. “And you are?”

“Echo. I, uh.. Wasn’t expecting a Civ?” They never do.

“Not infected, by the way, it’s just irritated.” You seek out a steroid cream, which you conveniently just restocked. “Here, use this twice a day, and keep the area as dry as possible.”

He gives you a short, formal nod before he redresses, correctly this time, and leaves the room with his face almost as red as his rash.

You’ve moved onto another crate when you catch the movement from the corner of your eye, somebody passing the door to the Medbay. You think nothing of it until you see the figure again, this time he slows slightly to glance inside the room.

He walks past a third time - and then a fourth.

On what would be the fifth time you poke your head out slightly to watch him walk almost to the end of the hallway, just to turn around and begin his lap back past the door. He stops in his tracks when he sees you looking curiously at him, but quickly recovers even though he’s been caught, and strides back towards you. You catch a glimpse of a tattoo on his temple, but it’s his grin, framed by neatly trimmed facial hair, that seems to distinguish him from other clone troopers you’ve come across. It’s cocky, confident, and warm. Especially warm when he takes hold of your hand and presses it to his lips in a greeting that makes it feel as though you’re trapped in a boiler room, overheating.

“I’m Fives, and you are?”

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

You were settled between Echo and Fives, the three of you with empty cups waiting for the next round of the game. Each round you had to take a shot based on your answer to the question, which so far had ranged between ‘If you’ve been shot by a droid’ - which Rex groaned at, and ‘If you ever fucked a girl in the 79’s fresher’, which made several of the men cheer.

Your heart sinks a bit when Fives drinks at that one, recalling the night just over a month ago on Coruscant.

You had all been there together, his arm slung around your shoulder in the booth as you both laughed at some fleeting joke made by Jesse. You had grown closer, close enough to the point that he got teased relentlessly by his brothers for calling you his ‘best friend’ whilst under the influence of some strong pain medication in the Medbay.

You left to get some more drinks from the bar when Sinker approached you, a spark of recognition in his eyes. You were trying to focus on ordering the drinks, blushing as you attempted to turn down the Sergeant who was whispering over-sweetened things in your ear at how he wished you’d stayed with the 104th for longer.

You smiled in thanks when Echo came to help, claiming he saw that you may need help with carrying the drinks. You were grateful for the assistance, laughing with Echo under the usual volume of the crowd until you caught sight of your best friend, stumbling through the crowd towards the fresher, his hand intertwined with a beautiful Twi’lek girl.

You remember how Echo looked at you as he realised the reason behind your tightened jaw and hoarse voice when you excused yourself for some air. You couldn’t stand the sympathy in his eyes, the eyes that looked identical to those of your best friend, the man you were in love with.

So much for being unattached.

“It wasn’t that good.” Fives nudges your knee with his own, pulling you from your thoughts. A casual smirk plays on his lips and you’re about to laugh off the comment, ready to deflect the attention from your friend, when his twin interrupts you.

“Yeah, cause you couldn’t get it up!” Echo slurs as he leans against you, clutching his cup as some of the amber liquid sloshes down your chest before he apologises and wipes the stain above your breast with hazy eyes. Fives catches his brother's wrist, pushing it away from your chest lightly, and your mind races at Echo’s statement - Fives hadn’t slept with the Twi’Lek girl?

“Shut up, Vod.” Fives grumbles, his fingers tightening around his own cup as he looks away from the two of you. A blush, that must just be from a mix of alcohol and annoyance, creeps up to his face. Thankfully as most of these questions have been related to battle or women, you’ve barely drank, so you can at least try to be rational and push away thoughts that creep into your mind of how you think Fives would take you against the wall of a fresher stall. You can ignore the contemplation on if he would show restraint, or if he would make the walls shake.

“How about this - take a shot for how many people you’ve slept with,” Jesse calls out to the small group of you, an intoxicated grin on his face. Several hands reach for the last remaining bottle at once, ready to fill their cups, each of their owners immediately wanting to show off to the rest of the room's occupants.

“No!” Kix’s hand is the fastest to snatch the liquor away, holding it close to his chest plate. “We are not looking after you all in the Medbay with alcohol poisoning!” He gestures between you both, and Jesse bargains, coming to a compromise for 1 shot for every certain number, but the specifics of the round are drowned out by your own heartbeat.

Your body stills and you look down to your half full cup. It would be easy to drink, to lie to yourself and those around you. You don’t even have to drink more than once and yet you just continue to stare at your reflection in the liquid, it’s as if the cup were judging you.

“You know you’re supposed to at least drink once, right?” Fives whispers in your ear.

“Yeah, just got distracted trying to work out which of your brothers are definitely exaggerating,” You nod, taking a sip from the cup as you avoid his eyes that burn you more than any liquor ever could. You place the empty cup at your feet and lean your head against Echos, managing a small smile at how he’s snoring against your shoulder.

Fives gives a small hum of thought, finishing his own drink before placing the empty cup next to you, allowing his finger to linger on the rim for a moment. Your gaze is focused on the way the traces of liquor coat his fingertips, making the battle-calloused skin glisten. You close your eyes, trying to fend off the thoughts of how the whiskey tainted fingers would taste on your tongue, and the mental image of them coated in something sweeter than the alcohol.

“Remember the first time I dragged you here?” Fives’ amused tone forces your eyes open, his warm hand settling on your knee and he taps his fingers rhythmically, almost to the same beat as your unsteady heart.

It had been just over one standard month, one of your longest posts so far, and you were already finding yourself anxious that you could be transferred away at any moment. If you had told yourself just over a month ago that in your new assignment with the 501st that you would wake to two half-drunk troopers in your room, begging you to come play Sabbac with them, you would have diagnosed them with battle induced psychosis.

“Well, not with us-” Fives starts, rummaging around the small closet for something you could wear over your sleeping vest.

“For us.” Echo finishes, practically pulling you out of your bed with an eager nod as Fives approaches you with something in his hands.

“Hands up, sweetheart.” In your tired state, you obey thoughtlessly, allowing Fives to slip the sweatshirt over your head. His fingers trail down your sides, eliciting goosebumps across your skin as he pulls the heavy fabric down over you, and between the contact and his name for you, your heart skips a beat. It nearly stops when he winks before turning away to get your shoes.

Clone Troopers were often flirty, but over the last month, Fives seemed determined to earn the title of being the biggest flirt. Regardless which of his brothers got sick or minorly injured, he was always the one pulling them through the door and would then spend the entire time sweet talking you. Just last week, Rex had nearly concussed himself on a pipe and looked like he wanted to hit Fives who didn’t stop talking the whole time you examined the injury.

“And why do you need me to play for you? I’ve never even played before,” You swallow thickly, sliding your feet into the shoes as the twins guide you from your room, both of their hands on your back, ushering you down complex hallways that all look identical.

“Fives got caught cheating, so we both got banned,” Echo rolls his eyes, placing the blame on his brother, who begins telling you the rules of the game, which they are playing a slight variation of given that they only had items to bet, not credits. You had reluctantly allowed them to bring a full bottle of rather expensive vodka you had purchased last time you were on Coruscant.

“You did not wake up the new medic just to get her to play for you.” Jesse groans, and Rex begins apologising to you for his brothers, ready to scold them for waking you up, but you raise your hand to stop him.

“It’s no bother.” You shake your head, remembering Fives and Echo’s advice to act confident - so really you just had to ask yourself ‘What would Fives do?’

“You know how to play?” Kix asks, surprised by your sudden change in demeanour. He had been used to you keeping your head down in the Medbay, following orders, not showing up with a bottle of alcohol to bet on and Fives’s arm slung around your shoulder.

“Oh please, I’ve been playing Sabbac longer than some of you have been out of the tube.” You feel Fives give your shoulder a proud squeeze at your lie as he places the bottle of vodka on the makeshift table, and you both take a seat, “Deal me in?”

After several rounds of you finding your feet in the game, Fives drops his hand to your waist, giving it a squeeze - he’s signalling to go in for the kill. You turn your head slightly to look into his eyes, and he gives a slight nod that doesn’t go unnoticed by your opponents, he’s making it look so sure you’re going to win, but in reality your cards weren’t good.

You and Rex were down to the last cards, everyone else had folded. Either of you could have the winning hand, but if one of you backed out now before your cards were revealed, you could at least keep your own stake in the game. It was about the bluffing now, and thankfully you were good at that.

“Well, Captain?” You and Fives lean backward in sync. You press the cards to your chest, hiding how they’re on the verge of shaking from Fives’ grip on your waist, but also to hide your tell. It’s a small, barely noticeable movement, your forefinger running along the edge of your thumbnail - a nervous movement that Rex hasn’t noticed past your arrogant smile that perfectly mirrors Fives’. “What’ll it be?”

There’s a short beat where the room is silent and you hold the gaze of the Captain, all of the others staring between you both like it’s an intense standoff. He looks away first, tossing the cards down with a huff as he backs out, giving the win to you; he actually had a good hand.

“Oh and by the way, sir,” You lay your cards down, revealing that you had already gone bust, over the number limit to win. “I’ve never played Sabbac in my life.” You grin at the shocked expression on his face that melts into a warm smile and you’re enveloped into a hug from Fives while Echo reaps your winnings from the table.

After you all decide to have a drink from the bottle you bet with, the tiredness catches up to you, and you struggle to stay alert with the alcohol that casts a haze on your mind.

“C’mon, I’ll take you back.” Fives nudges you, picking up the half-full bottle of vodka as he pulls you to your feet, shaking his head in amusement when he tugs a bit too hard and you fall into his chest. “Already falling for me, sweetheart?” his voice is low, something that can only be heard between the two of you in the room full of his boisterous brothers.

You roll your eyes in amusement, a defence against how the whisper makes heat spread throughout your body. You take a half step back, placing the empty cup on the crate as you exchange a short goodbye with Echo.

“I’m gonna walk our lovely medic here back to her room, I’ll be back soon,” Fives gives a mock salute as you both make your exit and you try to ignore the whistle from one of the men as Fives chuckles, shaking his head. “Animals aren’t they, Mesh’la?”

You hadn’t known this side to any of the clones you’d served with, albeit you were just a medic, none of them had ever been this relaxed around you. The entire time you had been in the GAR, it had been lonely. There was no one to celebrate with after battle, no late night conversations between friends, no one to just sit with and cry when you weren’t able to save a life. But walking through the corridors with Fives somehow made it all worth it.

“You did great, sweetheart, I’m impressed.” Fives brings the bottle to his lips, taking a swig of the clear liquid as you stop outside of your door. “You’re just full of surprises aren’t you?” His tongue darts out to lick the vodka off his lips and you can’t help but let your eyes linger there after the action. His gaze is already meeting yours when you look up, heat flickering in his eyes like the flame of a candle - he’s caught you staring.

Fives’ hand comes up to hold your waist once more, his grip tighter now, drawing you closer like you were a flower he wanted to admire. The scent of vodka from his breath intoxicates you, and you find yourself hypnotised, leaning closer. You don’t know what causes it, but at the last moment he freezes, his hand falling from your waist to press the panel outside your door, opening it.

“Goodnight.” He gives a tight-lipped smile before stepping away, walking back down the corridor in the direction of the barracks. Despite the heavy sweatshirt and warmth of the vodka in your blood, you feel empty as you enter your dark room. You find yourself lying awake in your bunk as you work through a mixture of disappointment, embarrassment, and something that ignites an ache between your thighs.

He stopped himself from kissing you, and you didn’t know why.

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

You know your way back, he doesn’t need to walk you, yet he always does. It’s been almost 8 standard months since you were transferred to the 501st, you could practically navigate your way around blindfolded. So, you know you're about to turn onto the corridor your room is on when he speaks.

“You didn’t drink.”

Your mouth goes dry, it’s like you’ve just eaten a whole pack of ration crackers while sitting in the Tatooine desert with no water. The lights above feel harsher, as if you’re under a spotlight on the Medbay examination table, and Fives is the one inspecting you. He’s peering at you from the corner of your vision, gauging your reaction to his statement.

“What are you talking about, Fives?” You shrug in an attempt to appear nonchalant, but unfortunately due to his metabolism he was as sober as you, meaning he was just as observant. You couldn’t brush off his attention when he places a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your place just as you round a corner. From here you can see the door to your room, the third from the end. It’s taunting you at how close you were to getting away with the secret you’d been keeping against your chest.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” His free hand grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger, directing your attention to him. You swallow as he draws your face closer, eyes raking over your features as he gives a small shake of his head. “You didn’t drink.”

“Yes I did.” Your voice is impressively steady, you’re good at bluffing. Fives already knows this, but he knows you better, and his eyes dart down in search of something. Your fingertip presses against the edge of your thumb in a movement that Fives had catalogued in his brain since that day you beat Rex at Sabbac.

The credit drops. You can see the moment it registers in Fives’ brain as his jaw goes slack, his grip on your chin loosening.

“Are you a- mph!” Your hand covers his mouth and you push him to the wall before he can shout aloud what you’ve kept unsaid for your whole time in the GAR. Fives was an ARC trooper, he could easily push you away, but his muscles seem to weaken against your grip. You feel the resistance in his body melt under your touch, as his eyes soften just above where your hand covers his mouth.

“I know you’re a loud mouth but please,” Your voice is low, urgent, as you give him a warning look, your face burning from embarrassment as he’s just come to the realisation of why you didn’t drink. You didn’t have any number to drink for. You can see him linking it together in his head - why you turned down flirtatious advances from his brothers, why he walked you back alone after every late night. It was why your body was so responsive to every small touch and honeyed word from his lips; like a flower chasing fleeting sunlight in the late afternoon. “Just this once, Fives, keep your voice down.”

Fives gives a short nod down at you, assuring you he’ll be quiet. His fingers loop around your wrist, tugging your hand from his mouth. You unsuccessfully try to ignore the way his lips had felt against your skin, you’re so caught on the small patch of wetness on your palm that you miss the clench of his jaw and flash of emotions in his eyes.

“You’ve really never..?” He trails off, the words settling into the small gap between you, they’re not taunting or teasing, they’re simply disbelieving. Even though he’s released your wrist now, it’s still suspended in the air, as if you’ve been frozen in carbonite. You’re afraid to move away, that it would be just like all those months ago, that the moment would be shattered and lost.

Your breaths are mingling together, you’re like an asteroid orbiting, drawing closer and closer to his planet, bracing for impact. Fives is unblinking, waiting for the answer he already knows, but needs to hear for himself.

“No.”

Something stirs in the depths of Fives’ eyes and there’s a tension you could almost reach out and grasp from the air. Your body acts on its own, hand breaking free from its frozen stupor to find interest in a small scar on his jaw. You remember treating the small cut, he never even flinched, but you had let him hold your hand anyways. ‘It’s for comfort’, Fives had told you, accompanied by the usual sly wink that made it all the more difficult for your free hand to remain steady when you cleaned the cut.

Fives’ eyes slip closed when your fingertips graze against the shining scar, his breathing becoming carefully controlled. You recognise the pattern, it’s the same pace it was during the times he would take you to the training rooms, his body pressed to yours as he taught you to shoot. He would chuckle into your ear when your hands would shake, causing you to miss.

Your hands are steady now, no signs of the trembling are evident when you raise your attention higher. Your finger traces its way over the inky ‘5’ on his temple, and you’re about to move it away but you find yourself held in place, fingers still pressed against the tattoo.

Fives’ constant touches were always casual, fleeting, and meaningless. But this? This was deliberate.

His gloved hand is circled around the bare skin of your wrist once more, keeping your fingers pressed against his temple. After a short, breathless moment, he moves your hand, but not to push it away this time. He pulls it closer, making your fingers trace across his cheekbone, against his warm skin all the way on a deliberate path to his mouth.

Fives’ lips ghost across your fingertips and in contrast to his rough exterior and battle scarred skin, they’re soft. Just above the point of your fixation is his heavy stare, focused and serious, like you’re his target in the heat of battle.

Your heart is thrumming against your ribcage like blaster fire and you wonder if he can feel the pulse in your wrist through his gloves at the sheer force of it. There’s barely any space between the two of you, and it only lessens with every beat of your heart.

“Just… stay still for a second, please,” Fives’ eyes burn into yours and he’s like a black hole orbiting you, pulling you in with his gravity. “Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” His voice is a strained whisper, just cosmic background noise, all you can focus on is how his breath fans across your lips.

His eyes close again when you nod, and you allow yourself to slip away into the same darkness as he consumes all of your senses.

The touch is light, a soft brush of his lips against your own, and the gentle contact has a shiver running through your body. His hand has placed your palm back to his jaw, covering it with his own as he pulls you in deeper. The second kiss is more confident, the swipe of his tongue over your lower lip has the world around you dissolving into a meaningless void as he becomes the centre of your universe.

Before you can part your lips for him, Fives pulls away, just enough so he can look at you. There’s a dazed expression on his face, like he’s been concussed but is strangely happy about it. The momentary bewilderment melts away into an unusually shy smile and he’s about to kiss you again when you’re interrupted. There's laughter echoing from the direction you just came and Fives pulls back further, a suddenly serious look taking over his face.

You’re filled with a strange sense of deja vu when he steps away, your heart already sinking. Before you can open your mouth to apologise for getting carried away, to try and repair whatever strain the kiss could have put on your friendship, you’re being pulled along by his gentle grasp. Fives is making urgent paces down the short walk to your door, slamming his free hand to the control panel to get you both away from whatever prying eyes may have stumbled upon your private moment.

The door whooshes down to swallow you both in the darkness of your room and just like all those months ago, your back is pressed against the cool durasteel door. Only this time, you’re on the other side of it.

You immediately miss the warmth his body has been providing you with when he walks over to your desk, fumbling in the darkness from your lamp switch. Your lips still tingle from where his own were pressed against yours, and you swear you can still taste him.

The room is poorly illuminated from the dim bulb, but it's enough to highlight the figure of Fives leaning over your desk and you take in the full sight of him. He’s still wearing his armour from the waist down, but his upper half is only dressed in his tight blacks, and the lamp casts shadows that accentuate every ridge of muscle. It’s times like this where you’re reminded the man in front of you isn’t just your best friend, but also a highly decorated ARC Trooper, a man who spends most of his days in battle.

The serious look doesn’t leave his face, even when he’s moved back in front of you, blocking out the rest of your room with his large frame. At some point in the darkness, Fives has removed his gloves, allowing you to feel the rough skin of his hand as it cups your face. His thumb tugs at your lower lip, smearing saliva across the swollen skin as he teases the sensitive flesh. You can make out the apprehensive desire in his eyes as he marvels down at your mouth, before looking up to meet your gaze once more.

“Kriff, I…” His voice is light, and there’s an uncertain, almost desperate edge to it before he swallows it down. “Sweetheart, do you want this?”

It would be easy to lie to the both of you and back out. You never expected to meet anyone when you enlisted into the GAR straight from your medical school. Back then you had wanted to be a doctor, it was expected of you by your family, you sacrificed your entire social life to work for it.

You were never given the luxury of free-time, how could you ever have met anyone when all you did in your later teen years, when all your friends were partying and meeting their partners, was study? It was never a case that you didn’t want to be with anyone, but life simply prevented you from it. You were in your third year when the war broke out, two more years at the university and you would have graduated, but instead you decided to take your study credits and enlist as a medic. In less than a standard rotation from the moment you notified the university, you were on a transport to your first assignment.

You had let your work and the war rob you of so many experiences, you wouldn’t let them take this from you too. You wouldn’t let them take him from you too.

“Yes, Fives.” You nod, allowing your hands to rest on his broad shoulders. You’re sure of this, sure of him.

“Tell me to stop,” There’s a hunger in Fives’ eyes when you say his name and his lips press back to yours in a kiss that’s over far too quickly. “At any time, tell me to stop.” He’s holding your face still, unmoving until he has your consent.

“Okay.” There’s no reluctance in your tone, just a breathless need that makes Fives’ jaw tick.

Fives exhales, his shoulders relaxing and your eyes close again in anticipation, awaiting his kiss. But instead you feel the heat of his forehead press to yours, as if he’s anchoring himself against you, just for a moment.

“Okay, sweetheart.” His mouth is instantly on yours, his right hand still cups your jaw, but his left slips around your back in search of the zip on your uniform. He makes quick work of pulling the zipper down to loosen the material from your skin, and both hands travel down to your hips, tugging at the edge of the fabric.

“Hands up.” Fives’ voice is low in your ear as he presses a kiss to your hairline, and you raise your arms, allowing him to slip the top from your body. He discards it on the floor, not wanting to waste any time that could be spent with his hands on your exposed skin.

Fives is slower this time. Each movement is purposeful when he guides you both towards your small bunk, his tongue slipping past your lips in a kiss that makes you dizzy as you taste him in your mouth.

When the back of your knees meet the edge of your bunk, Fives’ lips begin to trail down your body. His path starts at the soft skin of your now exposed cleavage, and continues down past your bra, over the smooth skin of your stomach. There’s a soft scrape when his armour makes contact with the floor, he’s dropping to a kneeling position with his lips hovering over your abdomen. You look down at the man kneeling before you with his fingers hooked in the waistband of your uniform leggings, and you can’t help but smile. Fives pauses momentarily, sending a wink up at you before he tugs the fabric down, exposing the flesh of your legs.

“Lay down.” Fives whispers, and you can feel his warm breath tickle your stomach.

You settle backwards onto the bunk, allowing Fives to remove your leggings entirely, along with your shoes. You’re left in just your simple, black GAR issued bra and panties. It’s nothing special by any means, but Fives eyes you as if you’re an oasis he’s stumbled upon in the middle of a month-long battle. One meant only for him.

You let your eyes slip closed as you hear the familiar noise of his armour being removed, clattering to the floor. It’s something you’ve heard many times when he’s come to relax with you on an evening and you find yourself counting each piece removed as a distraction until bare fingers brush your knee. It’s a comforting touch to draw you back to him.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart, look at me.” Fives is sat just between your legs, bare aside from tight boxers that leave little of his anatomy to the imagination. You already knew what clones looked like naked, you had treated enough of them to not be phased by any part of their body. But a clone on a Medbay table was different to your best friend whose lips were pressing to the soft flesh of your inner thigh. “Is this okay?”

He inhales against your panties and you attempt to swallow your embarrassment and nervousness at the sight of your friend between your legs with only a thin layer of fabric between you. The sight of his ever-present smile between your legs sends a flood of heat through your body before it concentrates in your lower stomach.

When you don’t reply immediately, he pulls back slightly, giving the thigh he’s hooked over his shoulder a light squeeze. His brown eyes are filled with concern, searching your expression for any hesitation.

“You still with me?” His thumb traces patterns against your skin, each movement only encouraging the fire in your body.

“I’m still with you,” You nod, watching as something lights up in his eyes. “What are you-“

Fives immediately silences your question with an action. His wet, open mouth presses to your thigh again and you feel yourself exposed to him when he hooks a finger in your panties, pulling them to the side.

“I’m taking my time with you Mesh’la.” His hot breath fans over your now exposed cunt and you fight the urge to clasp your legs together, you’ve never felt more vulnerable lying in your bunk, entirely bare to the person you trust most and it’s a vulnerability that makes your heart race as if you’re under attack.

Fives seems to sense your nervousness as he holds your knees firmly apart with his shoulders and free hand, keeping your legs open for him to litter small kisses on your inner thighs, all the while keeping you exposed for him.

“Focus on me, Cyar'ika.”

Before your apprehension can get the better of you, Fives is licking a slow, experimental stripe up your slit, parting your folds with his tongue. His eyes are on yours the whole time, studying the awed look on your face and gasps of pleasure when his tongue runs over your clit.

Fives shakes his head, grumbling something under his breath. Before you can decipher it, he’s using one hand to lift your hips from the bed while his other practically tears the panties from your body, leaving you in just your bra. Strong hands move to grip the top of your thighs and pull you to him so he can secure his mouth to your core without obstruction, filling the room with wet, desperate noises as he laps at your cunt.

Your hands twist in the thin bed sheets, desperately searching for something to ground you as his tongue delves inside you. His mouth is attached to you like you’re his last meal before an execution, the first drop of water after a mission on a desert planet, something he’s denied himself for far too long.

One of his fingers circles your entrance and your eyes snap open, finding him already looking up at you with a question in his gaze, asking for permission. You can only nod, not trusting your ability to speak with Fives’s tongue dragging slow circles around your clit.

Your head slumps back to the floor when he proceeds with your consent, the sensation is entirely foreign as you feel his digit sink into you, testing your tightness. Your own fingers were nothing in comparison to his, even just the one is beginning to stretch you.

“Fives…” Your breathless plea encourages him and your teeth sink into your lower lip as he adds another finger to stretch you further. You let out a small whimper at the slight burn and he slows his movements slightly to allow you time to adjust.

“Shh, Mesh’la,” He changes the angle slightly, massaging his fingertips against the walls of your cunt as they search for a particularly sensitive spot. Your body jolts, arching towards him when he finds it, and a moan escapes you. “That’s it, relax.”

The heat in your core is building as you grow wetter, making it easy for him to work his fingers into your tight hole, only adding to the growing pleasure building in every part of you, begging to escape. He presses his thumb to your swollen clit, one goal in mind.

“Need to make sure you’re ready for me, Cyar'ika.”

Fives withdraws his fingers from your gushing cunt, his hands instead moving from under your thighs and securing themselves back to their original position on your knees, keeping your trembling legs open as he continues to suck lightly on your clit when you reach your climax. Your body shakes, set alight with pleasure that’s only intensified by the way his head rests against your thigh, looking up at you as if committing the moment to memory.

When you finally relax against the bed, the pleasure having temporarily robbed your body of energy, you expect him to be done and move onto the next step. Instead, he lets out a low chuckle and begins circling your clit with his thumb once more.

“Do you think you can give me another one, Mesh’la?” His soft smile contrasts his words, but his eyes gleam with mischief when you whisper a small ‘yes’ in response.

He’s using just his fingers this time, two of them working you in a scissoring motion, stretching your walls as his other hand slips between you and the mattress. His fingers expertly find the clasp to your bra, freeing you from the last item of your clothing.

His pupils are dilated, drinking in the sight of your writhing body, now entirely bare for him. He leans back slightly, taking in every detail, something between a smile and a smirk on his lips when his eyes focus on his own fingers pumping in your tight hole. The moment he feels your orgasm hit, cunt tightening around his fingers, he descends on you once more. Teeth pulling at your nipple, his thumb secured to your clit as he lets you ride out your orgasm, your hips attempt to grind up against his hand, chasing pleasure.

The world is falling back into place around you when he shifts his weight on the bed, and you hear the final piece of clothing hit the floor.

Fives is kneeling in front of you, a hand on each of your knees as you take in the sight of his bare body. His large cock makes the breath hitch in your throat, but he presses a soft kiss against your lips, prepared to ease the tension that threatens to overwhelm your body. His eyes are filled with a warmth that reassures you when he pulls back to press another kiss against your forehead, “You can take it, Cyar'ika, I’ll go slow.”

Fives settles his hips between your parted thighs, hooking one of your legs over his waist to keep you open beneath him. Soft lips ghost over yours and you feel the head of his cock settle against your entrance.

“Are you ready?” His thumb brushes along your jaw, a loving reminder that it’s your best friend above you, the person you trust the most. The same man who you would stay up with late at night after every difficult battle, who you would always pick up an extra ration bar for, the man you were in love with.

“Yes.” Your eyes slip closed as you press your lips back to his.

The initial pressure of his cock entering you gives way to a sharp pinch that causes you to suck in a sharp breath through your teeth. Despite all of Fives’s efforts to prepare you, the unfamiliar pain seizes your body in an uncomfortable grasp.

“Relax for me, Cyar'ika.” He murmurs the assurance against your mouth, forcing his own breathing to slow, unconsciously prompting you to calm down. A hand presses to the underside of your thigh, pushing it upwards as he rolls his hips into you, he’s only halfway inside and you try to force yourself to relax around his impressive girth.

“That’s my girl.” He groans into your neck as his hand drops from your thigh to drag precise circles around your tight clit. The added layer of stimulation makes you gush around the half of his length inside you, making it easier to take his cock, but he doesn’t push any deeper. Instead he rocks his hips in a shallow motion, allowing you to adjust to this size first.

“Shh, don’t worry, Mesh’la,” He strokes your hair, continuing to press soft kisses of assurance to your mouth as he works your clit in time with his shallow thrusts. “It’ll be easier once you cum with me inside you, then you’ll be more relaxed for me.”

Fives’ hips pick up their pace, but he still limits himself, expertly watching your body's reactions to his cock. He’s continuously ensuring he doesn't go too fast, too hard, too deep. It’s a balancing act, one he seems to be perfect at with the way he already has the beginnings of another orgasm taking grasp of your body.

“Fives!”

You’re grinding helplessly against him now, one hand on his tanned chest and the other grasping at the short hair on the back of his head. Between Fives’s whispered words of adoration in your ear, you can make out the wet noises as he thrusts inside you, each movement causing more of your wetness to drip between your joined bodies, smearing you both with your arousal.

You’re hooked onto his words like a lifeline as he guides you through the experience.

“Kriff-” He shakes his head as he takes in the sight of you cumming around his cock. But it’s not lust in his eyes, it’s something far more intense. “I promised I wouldn’t do this..” His voice is strained, like he’s trying to keep the words inside of him.

Before you can even catch your breath fully to ask what he means, your world is spinning when he pulls you upwards, slotting himself underneath you so you can no longer try to read the emotions in his face. Your back is now pressed to his chest, his body supporting you to stay upright and he’s hooking his right hand under your knee, spreading you apart.

His chin rests on top of your head, the position allowing him a full view of your body as his cock enters your cunt from behind; it’s more than before, but still not the full length. Your right arm curls up around behind you to hold the back of Fives’ neck, needily pulling him closer in the moment as you writhe against his body.

“Look at that, Cyar'ika,” You feel the rumble in his chest just as much as you hear it, and it draws your attention down to your joined bodies. He shifts slightly to support your head as you catch glimpses of his cock disappearing into your tight hole in a series of shallow, restrained thrusts. “Look how perfectly we fit together.”

His eyes remain locked on your body, the way your chest heaves and cunt tightens, dripping down his cock as you cum once more, you’re already losing count. From what you were always told by friends when you were in University, losing your virginity was supposed to be a far cry from this. In fact you don’t think a single one of your friends had cum when losing theirs, and yet here you were, the room almost spinning from the pleasure Fives had given you.

Fives chuckles at the blissful look on your face as he pulls his hand from your clit, allowing you to relax against his larger frame. “You are really something else, Cyar'ika.” He’s slower this time when he rolls you both over once more, cradling the back of your head as he rests you back onto the pillows.

He resumes his original position above you, thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. His eyes are full of adoration when he looks down at you, and there’s no trace of the painful stretch from earlier when he slides the full length of his cock inside you this time.

He’s been so focused on your pleasure that his own has been forgotten, but you see the evidence of it. He’s coated in a sheen of sweat that makes him appear like one of those glossy paintings in the art galleries on Coruscant. He’s an artwork, beautifully crafted, every muscle in his body coiled tight in restraint as his hips grind against yours.

It’s your turn to touch him this time, to appreciate every bit of the vulnerability in his face as he presses his forehead against yours and you angle your face upwards to steal a kiss. A tortured moan escapes his lips as his thrusts only increase in speed, he’s clinging onto you like it’s his sole purpose.

“Where?” His breathing is ragged against your neck.

You make a confused noise in response and he curses something in Mando’a.

“Where do you want me to cum, Mesh’la, hm?”

You‘re speechless from the pleasure, but thankfully your body answers for you, already locking your legs around his hips to keep you joined together.

“Alright, Cyar'ika, inside it is.” There’s a soft rumble of amusement against your throat before his mouth finds yours again. One hand tangles in your hair while the other grips your hip, both of them seeking to drag you closer. You’re two stars colliding in the void of the universe, no longer orbiting each other, instead becoming one as your light drowns out all darkness around the pair of you.

His name is falling from your lips, cries of it suffocated against him when his tongue slips into your mouth. Fives empties himself inside you, his cock unloading a flood of warmth that already overspills, leaking from your cunt with every slow movement of his hips. He pulls back, an unreadable emotion in his eyes before he buries his face in your hair, distracting himself by stroking at your burning skin. You stay there as you both begin to calm, hearts beating in sync with one another as your bodies remain joined.

He’s breathing heavily in your ear, an affirmation that you haven’t died and ascended to some afterlife when he drags his hips away from yours, leaving you empty as he stands up.

“Where are you going?” You hate yourself for sounding so needy, but with his cum leaking from between your thighs, how could you not. You knew it was common for men to leave straight after sex. You’ve caught some of the boys’ one night stands sneaking out barely ten minutes after they had been brought to the barracks, hair messy and clothes dishevelled.

“Relax, sweetheart, I’m not leaving.” He winks at you before disappearing into the small fresher joined to your room. You hear the water running for what seems like far too long, before he returns with a warm washcloth.

“Gotta clean us up before we make a mess on the bed, I’m not falling asleep in a wet patch.” He settles back between your legs, whispering soothing praises as he cleans your combined fluids. He’s thorough, making sure there’s no trace of him left before he presses a kiss to your inner thigh and discards the cloth into your laundry basket.

“C’mere.” He settles down next to you, lifting an arm to allow you to curl up against him and he pulls the bed covers over your waists. “You did so well, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, basking in a moment neither of you want to end. It’s sweet, intimate, and perfect.

Yet you can’t stop yourself from asking the question.

“What did you mean when you said you promised you wouldn’t do this?”

He pauses, an awkward smile tugging at his lips, you’d never seen him nervous like this, a blush creeping into his cheeks that he can’t even blame on the sex. “Caught that did you?”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek. Your cards were on the table, it’s only fair that his should be too.

“I suppose it’s only fair given that I didn’t let you get away with not drinking.” There’s a nervous edge to his laugh as he drags you closer to him, like he’s afraid you could disappear at any given moment.

“Do you remember the first time we played Sabbac, you kicked Rex’s ass, and I walked you back to your room?”

You nod slightly. The memory still plagued your thoughts on sleepless nights, it embedded itself in a playlist of embarrassing moments that liked to keep you awake. Yet, it also featured on the list of thoughts that had your legs twisted in the bed sheets as you imagine what would have happened if he did kiss you that night.

“I wanted to kiss you, but I couldn’t.” He sighs regretfully, admitting the truth he had been fighting against all of the months since that night.

“I think you’d only been here for what - a month?” You feel his laugh against your cheek as it rumbles in his chest. “And I couldn’t get you out of my damn head, I even made Echo fake being sick once just so I had an excuse to come to the Medbay and talk to you.” You remembered, and now felt slightly bad for insisting you give Echo all those unnecessary virus and anti-nausea shots.

“I needed the excuses to see you, because if I didn’t, and I saw you without them, it’d mean something that I’d been avoiding.” He trails off, trying to find a way to put it into words, it wasn’t something he had ever been good at. But he would try, for you he would try.

“The rest of the boys found out because I called you my girlfriend once when Kix gave me some of the heavy stuff in those green syringes.” He laughs, shaking his head and your mind begins to put the pieces together, that’s why they teased him so often about it. “They all promised they wouldn’t tell you how I felt though - I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

He drags a hand down his face, his jaw tenses. “And then I got jealous when I saw that Sergeant from the 104th talking to you, how he had his hands on you,” He shakes his head, an irritated look playing on his face, both at the other trooper, and his own actions on that night. “Thought I blew my shot, and I tried to cover it the only way I knew how.”

Your mind recalls him and the Twi’lek making a beeline for the 79’s freshers, how just a month ago you ended up crying in the alleyway, it was like taking a blaster bolt to your chest. No amount of Bacta could fix the pain that night, but you had certainly tried to heal it with whiskey.

“But I didn’t do it, and it’s not like Echo said, not because I couldn't,” He pulls himself back from you, but continues to hold you, to keep you in the moment with him as he explains what happens, a regretful look on his face. “It’s because she wasn’t you, Cyare.”

He presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and your fingers trace over the tattoo again, just for a moment, just until he finds the strength inside of him; the strength to override his programmed instincts to be a loyal, unattached soldier and nothing more.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t…” Fives trails off, opening his eyes. He needs to see your reaction, whether it’s good or bad, he needs to know. “Fall in love with you.”

You wonder if this is what the Jedi feel with the force around them, but instead of the whole world, you just feel Fives. The warmth of his skin under your fingers, the certainty in his eyes, the utter devotion for you in his voice as he fights against every form of conditioning he’s received.

“Fives, you idiot…” His expression is concerned at first until he sees your teary eyes and beaming smile. “I love you too.”

You had loved him since the moment he kissed your knuckles on your first day in the Medbay, every interaction after that only strengthened the bond between you.

Fives smiles down at you, his quiet laughs tickle your skin with warm air as you’re lured back into his embrace. He laughs disbelievingly, shaking his head as he allows his body to press back against yours, a perfect fit.

“We have so much time to make up for, sweetheart.”

You never want to lose this feeling, his lips marking your body, peppering reminders everywhere that you’re his, you have been since the moment that fateful order flashed up on your datapad. You’re anchored, attached, tethered to him - whatever word you want to give it, you’re his.

#arc trooper fives x reader #fives x reader #arc trooper fives #star wars #clone wars #Arc trooper fives smut

490 notes · View notes

merakiui · 8 months

Text

while in captivity, floyd encounters a human and unintentionally pair-bonds with you during a moment of biological vulnerability.

(cw: gender neutral reader, nsfw, omegaverse/abo, heats, captivity)

The marine lab has recently acquired a unique specimen—unique in that he is half-human and half-fish, hailing from deep, dark, indescribable depths. An eel merman, to be exact. You’ve only ever glimpsed merfolk in outdated textbooks and fairytales, the latter of which depicted them as whimsical beings capable of feats beyond scientific understanding. Magic. Although in the realm of biology, such folly is never entertained and so what the world calls ‘magic’ other fields built upon the foundations of research refer to it as a ‘miracle’. In your eyes those words are interchangeable, but then the idea of a miracle is far easier to digest than the concept of magic.

Merfolk have always been elusive, covert creatures, hence why there is hardly any conclusive data on them. In fact, they’re so secretive that they were believed to be mostly extinct—a figment of dreams and hallucinations. Most of what humans know stems from the tattered notes of long-gone sailors, their presences nearly lost to time itself, and for a while all anyone ever knew were four key details:

They are spread throughout the sea, living out their lives in frigid fathoms.

They are hypnotic and deceptive.

They are predatory.

They rarely interact with humankind unless absolutely necessary (e.g. to hunt or observe).

But with plenty of promising technological advances, some of the theories and myths surrounding merfolk have been bolstered or disproved, respectively. Merfolk are just as diverse as the rest of the animal kingdom. Some live in solitude. Others thrive in groups. Some make their home out of caves and grottos. Some dwell within the labyrinths of volcanic rock formations. It is every marine biologist’s dream to come face to face with one of these mysterious creatures, if only for just a few minutes to glean more information.

That dream is made reality today.

The eel mer was discovered off the coast of a tiny island, entangled in fishing lines and plastic litter. His large, winding body, snake-like in its sleek build, was littered with scars and scrapes. There was a hook lodged up in the folds of his gills. Despite his thrashing, his tail swishing wildly in the sand and nearly knocking down three researchers like they were bowling pins, he was wheezing and gasping, drained of energy and air. When the first bucket of seawater came down upon his dry gills, he settled briefly, wide, crazed, mismatched eyes flicking from face to face. Likely assessing the situation or counting the amount of bodies, the report claimed.

He fell still after that, and it took two teams of ten people to load him onto the lift so he could be flown to the lab.

After he spent a week in recovery, where he healed surprisingly fast, he was transferred to a much larger and wider tank, its depths far deeper than the average swimming pool. He doesn’t swim to the surface much, and he only ever pokes his head out at night, scanning his surroundings with intelligent, keen eyes. And then he turns and disappears below. It’s a pattern he’s stuck to for weeks now. No one really understands it, and they haven’t had the opportunity to try. He’s uncooperative and unpredictable. It’s much too dangerous to send a diver down there.

So they transfer you to his enclosure, assuming you might have more luck. You’re not sure and you can’t make any promises of potential success, as you’ve only ever interacted with marine mammals. A merman is…different. Not only because he’s half-man and, by that same logic, likely possesses a human brain that is capable of a higher level of thought, albeit one that is wired to suit his mer biology, but because he’s bigger. A lot bigger.

He could kill you.

You saw the documentation. The serrated teeth, the powerful claws, the dangerous jaw, the bulky, muscular build that cuts through water like a bullet. He is a predator in every sense of the word, and you’re supposed to look after him. Coax him to the surface. Get him to trust humans. Interact with him just inches from the edge of his tank and hope that he doesn’t get hungry or violent.

He might kill you.

But there are safety measures put in place for these things. Ethics to be followed and whatnot. It’s a slippery slope because he’s part human and therefore could possibly have the same level of intelligence humans have, in which case it would be wrong to trap him here. There may be ways to skirt around it with other animals, but he’s not like other animals.

For now, he’s kept here under the pretense of recovery and scientific study. The lab treats him like the big fish he is, going so far as to buy a shark suit in your size and instruct you to wear it even though you’re not going to get in the water. “It should prevent him from biting through,” they had said, “but it won’t lessen the force of his bite.”

“What good will that do? I can’t fight him off.” Though you knew it had nothing to do with anything, you added, “I’m an omega. Merfolk might not have the same sub-genders as we do up on the surface—or maybe they do; I don’t know—but if he were human he’d definitely classify as an alpha. Put that into perspective. I can’t. Fight. Him. Off. It’s biologically impossible.”

“So you poke his eyes. Dig your fingers into his gills. He should let go of you then.”

“That’ll hurt him,” you protested, clutching the suit to your chest.

“Not as much as he’ll hurt you.”

You suppose it’s a clinical priority. Survival of the fittest, but it’s the human who has to live. The lab could afford to lose you, but they don't want to. And if they did, they might put the mer down. Shoot him up with enough tranquilizers to keep him comatose. Maybe it only bothered you because, yet again, he’s half-human and no one on the team knows the extent to which he thinks and functions.

To simplify it, they consider him a shark. But like any creature, sharks learn and adapt as they go. Death is instinct.

He will kill you.

But you don’t want to think like that, which is why you put on your best smile and trudge into the enclosure he’s being kept in. The tank looms before you, seawater clear and beamed through with streaks of light from the harsh, glaring LEDs above. The deeper the water gets, the darker the shadows. You press your palm against the glass, observing the murky darkness with a frown. Somewhere in this tank, at a depth you can’t even imagine, is an eel merman. A big, strong, powerful, scary eel merman.

You swallow a steadying breath, curl your fingers into fists, and climb the spiral staircase to get to the attached platform. Your reflection follows you with each step, countenance set in grim confliction. Once you reach the top, you peer out at the surface of the pool, listening to the droning hum of water filters and other hidden machinery. There’s a very shallow part of the tank, a dip in the design that allows for the mer to lounge if he so pleases. You’re reminded of the dolphins in live shows, who slide up onto their stomachs to face an awestruck audience. You doubt that’s what he’ll use this ledge for. If anything, it could allow a researcher to kneel in the shallows while they interact with him at an intimate propinquity.

You don’t plan on being that researcher.

Instead, you pace a healthy distance away from the edge, holding a bucket of his breakfast in one hand and a notebook in the other.

“Um!” You cringe at your voice as it reverberates around you in a nervous echo. Cautiously, you inch towards the water. “I have your food!”

You wait three seconds, expecting him to come bursting up from the darkness like the shark everyone wants to delude themselves into thinking he is. The water remains still and unbroken. You wonder if your voice can even reach such a depth. If not the sound, the vibrations might. Or maybe he’s resting. It’s still relatively early in the morning. Perhaps his sleep schedule is thrown off. Yours would be if you were taken from your home and dumped in a manufactured version of your habitat.

You lurch forwards with the bucket and watch as a collection of shrimp, crab, and small fish soar through the air in a sloppy arc before landing and sinking into the waiting depths below. Nothing happens. The tension in your body ebbs away, and when it becomes clear that he isn’t coming up to greet you and feast on your offering you relax completely, collapsing against the wall with a great sigh.

If they really want to study him, they should just watch him on the security feed, you think, peering up at the camera in one corner of the room, its red eye fixated on you and the surrounding enclosure. He’s not going to come up during the day. Not when there are humans walking around.

Still, you wait your shift out, scribbling nonsense in your notebook and occasionally glancing up to gauge the state of the water.

The mer doesn’t show, so you resolve to try again.

Try you do, and try you have.

It’s been one week of perfunctory routine, arriving and feeding him at the same time in hopes that he might understand what you’re doing and come up to investigate. Or, at the very least, recognize you’re a recurring figure in his chapter of captivity. You don’t intend on befriending him. You only wish to fulfill your duties as a researcher, however skewed they may have become. Even though you know you ought to be grateful the mer hasn’t caused any problems, you want something to happen. Anything! At this rate, you’d sooner tire yourself out playing with rowdy sea lions than sit around in silence while waiting for an appearance from him.

It’s a quiet Tuesday afternoon when the first beat of unrest hits.

The mer’s enclosure is kept at a comfortable temperature for humans; it’s the water that’s freezing below the surface. So when you step up onto the platform and peer into the chum-infested deep, the empty bucket now set aside, you feel warmer than usual. Odd, considering the room is normally so chilly. Not extremely so, but chilly enough to give way to a pleasant cold.

Tugging at the collar of your shark suit, you cover the distance to stand under a large fan situated just near the dip in the pool. Cool air kisses your heated skin, providing you with much-needed relief, and you peer up at the propellers that spin in endless circles. Around and around and around. Your eyes follow the motions until you dizzy yourself, and you step back on wobbly legs. Your foot misses the metal platform and instead slips into the ledge built in the tank. With a startled yelp you fall backwards, landing in the shallows on your rear.

“Of course,” you mumble, bitter with embarrassment. “Leave it to me to fall right into the predator’s tank.”

You scoot further up onto the ledge, staring at the water below. It’s quite calm here, where the shallows lap languidly at your waist. If you were delusional, you might think this was a jacuzzi pool that you could dip your toes in. It’s not. Of course it isn’t. Not when there’s a beast lurking just below. But while you’re here, you run your hands through the saltwater while your own body temperature rises as if it’s a hungry flame in a stone hearth.

You place your hands on either side of the ledge, intending to push yourself up and onto the platform, when something tightens inside of you. Your heart stumbles in your chest and you lose the strength in your arms at once. With a noisy splash, you flop back into the shallows, your compromised body rigid and shaky with a tingling, all-encompassing warmth. Horrified, you raise two fingers to your pulse to feel it stutter wildly beneath your skin.

Swallowing thickly, you lower your head onto your arms and wait for the feeling to pass. The seconds slip by and in that short amount of time your state seems to worsen. Your temperature is volcanic, your every sense restless, and you’re sweating through the shark suit as if you’ve just run a marathon and more.

“Not now,” you hiss, slapping your hands upon your face. “Please not now. Anything but now…”

You intend to haul yourself up and out for good this time, desperate to get as far from the pool before your brain is completely overrun by your encroaching heat and robust omega instincts, when fingers brush against your leg. Something chitters behind you, a low, slow sort of sound that is shot through with curiosity. You turn as if you’re frozen in ice, your heart in your throat and senses on high alert.

The eel mer is right there, clutching your ankle in a firm grip. Not to hurt you, but to keep you there. And you’re not at all in a hurry to leave. Not when those claws are so close to your calf, capable of shredding through to your very bones. Even with the shark suit, you worry. He stares at you with narrowed eyes, his head angled in a cute, childish way. He appears confused and rightfully so, considering you’re a creature he’s likely never interacted with so closely before. You mirror his befuddlement, your brows furrowed, lips creased in a thin line.

For a long while, the two of you watch each other. If you look past his predatory design, he’s quite pretty with his smoky teal coloration and dark stripes. Your gaze pans over to the water, where a long, powerful tail disappears below. The paranoid side of you says he’s going to drown you, but then he doesn’t seem outwardly malicious in his intentions.

“Um…”

He flinches at the sound of your voice, his head snapping up to your throat and then your lips. Your attempt to pull your captive leg back is thwarted when he lurches, rising out of the water to grab hold of your foot. You gasp and shake your head at him, your senses sharp and dull all at once. Your heat-addled mind just barely parses the threat of danger, looming and ever-present.

“Please,” you beg, your tone sticky and breathless. “Don’t…”

The mer tilts his head the other way. The fins where his ears might be if he were human shiver, as if listening to the desperation in your syllables. He chirrups, lips widening in a sharp-toothed smile, and then he’s dragging you towards him. Panic seizes your nerves and you dig your palms into the smooth basin in an effort to get away. His expression falls when he notices your struggle and he lifts himself onto the ledge with you, draping himself over your legs like an oversized rug.

“Wait… H-Hold on; get off!” You grunt and weakly prod at his chest. He doesn’t budge. “You… You’re heavy!”

His webbed hand closes around your waist, steadying you in the shallows, while his other arm cages you beneath him. Instinctively, you arch into his touch, your breath coming in tiny, frenzied huffs. He clicks at you, and words that you can only assume are meant to be gentle and soothing are produced in a sweet melody. It relaxes you more than you’d like to admit, a lyrical balm to your terror.

You squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself for the worst. For the searing pain and the stinging agony. For the blood that will color the water a dark, foreboding red. For the sight of him merrily tearing into your jugular, his maw spattered with crimson. But none of that ever comes. He cradles your face next, his thumb running along your cheekbone, and slowly you peel your eyes open. His face is inches from yours, looking on with an intensity that’s almost primal.

Warily, you lift your arm out of the water and touch his hand. It’s much bigger in contrast to yours, but he’s handling you with such immaculate tenderness.

“You’re not going to hurt me…” you mutter, amazed. “You’re just curious.”

As if responding, he chitters. You nod even though you have no idea what he said. He doesn’t smell like an alpha or an omega or a beta. You’re not even sure if he’s capable of releasing pheromones, but if he were you’re certain it would have driven you much crazier than you already feel.

You hold his stare and reach up to pat his cheek, and he leans into your careful touch. Your hand soon trails down to trace his lateral lines, which earns you a pleased hum. You watch in awe as the gills on either side of his body flutter.

Led on by your own wonder, you follow the pattern to his waist and press your thumbs into his hip bones beneath smooth, slippery skin. “How fascinating… I wonder if it’s possible to take an X-ray. Would you allow—oh!”

Clumsily, he lifts you into his arms to embrace you, rolling his hips against the chainmail shark suit. Your breath hitches, and you fumble to grasp his broad shoulders.

“Ah, w-wait. I’m not… You can’t…”

He clicks thrice and lowers you into the shallows, his face scrunched in annoyance. You think he might’ve understood you, but then he’s palming between your legs and it occurs to you that he wants the suit off. Carnal delight shivers through you at the prospect of being wanted to such a degree, and though you know it’s the heat muddling your sensibility you can’t help indulging him just a little. You undo the zip at the back and slide it from your body, revealing your shoulders and bare arms for his wandering, mismatched hues. He leans in to nose at your scent glands, chattering happily as he inhales. You can’t understand a word, but he sounds pleased—even more so when he runs his hands along your arms, squeezing and petting in equal measure.

His tongue laves across your neck, and what fragile restraint you have left snaps. You cling to him like he’s your anchor, meeting his searching hips halfway with every awkward thrust that doesn’t quite connect as it should. You chew your lip, tamping down a torrent of filthy moans. Your mind is clouded with lust and instinct, and you dig your fingers into his hair, holding him against your neck while he continues to lick and nip.

It feels right up until the haze parts momentarily, allowing temporary sobriety when you spy the tip of something poking free of its encasing. Dazed and inquisitive, you reach between your bodies to prod at his slit, hoping to coax more of his prehensile cock from out of its folds. But then the door below opens and the mer lifts himself from off of you, his head turning in the direction of the sound at an alarming speed. You blink up at him, lazily following his line of sight. His lip curls up in a silent snarl, the beginnings of razored teeth peeking out, and then he slithers back into the water, his hands lingering on your ankles.

Despite the dizziness you sit up, your arm outstretched. “Wait, don’t go!”

I didn’t get to cum yet. You didn’t even claim me either…

He peers at you, neutral for all of a minute before swimming over to you. He presses his face into your palm, chittering softly. There are footsteps on the stairs, and he grits his teeth, withdrawing completely before turning and diving under in a spray of seawater.

You fall back into the shallows, panting like a starved, feral monster. A researcher comes to your aid, her expression equal parts shocked and disturbed. You don’t catch her questions, each one tacked onto what feels like a ceaseless rant, while she helps you to your feet. Something about danger. About heats. About omega biology. About how the researchers watched the both of you on the cameras, swelling with queries of their own.

“I’m not sure,” you mumble as you’re helped down the stairs, stumbling in a heat-drunken stupor. Thankfully, your fellow researcher is an omega like you and that relaxes the hypersensitive part of you—the part that fears being taken advantage of when you’re vulnerable like this. But the needier, greedier part of you wants the mer—wants his hands and mouth all over you, ripping you free from your suit and indulging in the bare skin beneath. “I think he...wanted to help…”

No one can explain his behavior. But it seems promising.

While you’re led from the room, the eel mer stalks you from the gloomy confines of his tank.

In the days following your heat, you return to the marine lab with your head on your shoulders and are immediately barraged with requests. Amongst all of them, one common demand stands out: You have to get him up to the surface again. Part of you doesn’t want to face the mer again. When you truly mulled over that day, tossed the memory of it around in your mind like it was a tennis ball, you were hit with shame.

It’s not…normal. Researchers do not tangle themselves in sexual situations with their subjects, especially when said subject was an eel mer from the Coral Sea. It’s unheard of. Luckily, the team of researchers you work with swears to secrecy. You were out of it and your judgment wasn’t in the best state. That’s the excuse they’re using. It works enough to push the humiliation from your thoughts.

You wonder if you should feel disgusted by the events. Rather, you didn’t mind it. For all of his rough, scarred, monstrous edges, he was gentle.

You press your fingers to your scent glands, recalling the feel of his tongue.

Today you’ve donned your usual work attire, foregoing the shark suit and any other protective gear the lab expects you to wear. Something tells you you won’t need it anymore. Not after everything that happened the day you went into heat.

Feeling rejuvenated and refreshed after your mini break, you trudge up the staircase with a food bucket, determined to finally fill your notebook with data. You’ve only made it up four steps when color flashes in your peripheral. You turn and find the mer is at your eye level, following you up the spiral staircase adjacent to his tank.

You pause and wave experimentally. He watches your hand move to and fro and then he mirrors your actions. He swims the rest of the distance to the surface, breaching it just as you make it onto the platform.

“Good morning, Mister,” you greet, bending down to empty the contents of the bucket into the water.

Disinterested, he watches bits of shrimp sink deeper. And then he looks back to you, his mouth opening and shutting. “Fu… Fu…” he forces out, his face scrunched in concentration.

“Fu…? Food?”

He nods and then shakes his head, hissing at himself in what you think might be admonishment.

“Fu…ro…”

“Furo?” You set the bucket aside and scoot closer to the edge. “What’s that?”

He tries once more before the syllables fizzle out on his tongue and, with a few frustrated clicks, he swipes a fish from the surface and stuffs it in his mouth. You giggle, and the sound has him tilting his head. Without a shred of apprehension, he meets you at the ledge. You watch him munch on the fish between his lips, content to observe in silence. He polishes it off rather quickly before procuring a handful, which he dumps onto the ground beside you. You shake your head at him, smiling weakly.

“Thanks, but no. It’s all yours.”

The mer shrugs and indulges without you.

“I should thank you for not hurting me back then,” you add. He pays close attention to your lips; you think he might be attempting to read them while listening. “Um… But don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not sure if merfolk are like humans, but we have this system… Or not a system… It’s more like…groupings? Secondary classifications?” You frown. How can you explain the complexities of sub-genders to a mer who doesn’t even speak your language? “Basically, I was in trouble and you helped me out. Kind of. In any case, thank you.”

He stares at you for a while, chewing and swallowing. You think he might swim back under once he’s finished, but instead he places his hands on the ledge and hoists himself up on his arms. He’s in your face next, all eager smiles and chitters.

“Fu… Furo. Furo…ido. Furoido,” he sounds out.

You read his lips in the best way you can before it finally clicks. “Ah! Floyd, right? Is that…your name?”

Floyd points to himself, makes a few upbeat clicks, and then nods. He’s pointing at you next.

“And me? Oh, my name is (Name).” You take your time sounding it out for him, and he repeats it with an awkward tongue. You smile and nod encouragingly. “That’s it. That’s me.”

He flops back into the water with a celebratory trill, a wild smile tugging at his lips. You watch him swim laps from you to the opposite end of the pool and back. Ditching the shark suit was the right call. You’re no longer uncertain. This time, you know for a fact that you’re going to be getting along very well with him.

And you look forward to fostering this flowering friendship.

#meraki mumbles #fluffy floyd hours #n/sfw #tw: abo #tw: omegaverse #he's so cute >w< i love floyb orz #okay now it's back to tmdg!!!#jade is going to kill me for writing about his twin when i should be writing him ;;;;

562 notes · View notes

froggibus · 2 years

Note

omg okay so like.. maybe hate sex with hanzo or cassidy??? with maaaayyybbeeee just a touch of enemies to lovers??

Right Here, Right Now - Cole Cassidy

Pairing: Cole Cassidy x f! Reader

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: you and Cass are not on the best terms—he’s cocky and you’re bratty, but after a particularly difficult mission, Cass finds a way to make the two of you put your difference aside

CW: enemies to lovers (ish), cocky! Cass, use of pumpkin/sweet pea/good girl, reader has female pronouns, rough sex, lots of strong language, fingering, oral (m! receiving), face fucking, hair pulling

haven’t done cass yet so figured I would do him for this one! will definitely think about doing a hanzo version in the future though. enjoy! (also I definitely did not steal some of the smut from a diff fic I wrote about Rooster oops)

“That’s three for me,” Cassidy smirks at you, standing over the omnics he’s just blown up. “How many did you get again?”

You roll your eyes. “Shut the fuck up, Cass.”

The man whistles at your harsh language, only making you angrier. Your missions together always went like this—him being cocky and insufferable, and you only getting angrier with him.

The two of you had hated each other for as long as you could remember. Cole had too big of an ego for you to ever like him, and your resistance to what he dubbed his ‘irresistible charm’ only seemed to egg him on. It was a match made in hell.

“Let’s just get the thumb drive, and get out, okay?”

“Whatever you say, sweet pea.”

You groan at the nickname and resist the urge to punch him in the arm. The halls of the old omnic facility you infiltrated are dark, mostly abandoned. It made the mission easier, you guess, since you didn’t have to deal with highly trained soldiers.

You turn the corner to the hallway that’s supposed to lead to the control room. You don’t even notice the omnic waiting for you on the other side of the wall. Lucky for you, Cass does.

He’s pulling out his revolver and placing two holes in it’s head before it can hurt you. You turn to face him with wide eyes. He just saved you—and now you’ll never be able to live this down.

“That’s four,” he holds up four fingers. “You owe me, pumpkin.”

This time you almost smack him, but he dodges your attack. You decide it’s not worth it, and finish making your way to the control room. It’s empty inside, but you know as soon as you’re done downloading the schematics onto a thumb drive, the omnics will come running.

You plug in the thumb drive to the centre console and begin the data transfer while Cass stands guard at the door. You don’t have to look to know he’s pacing—spurs clicking against the cement floor. He keeps spinning the chamber of his gun, loading and reloading his bullets.

The noise is distracting, and you think about snapping at him for it, but you know you’re better off finishing your work first. It takes about ten minutes before you’re done, and right on cue, two omnics burst through the door.

Cass flashes them before fanning the hammer on his gun. He shoots you a wink to which you roll your eyes. “Let’s get out of here.”

You sneak out of the data room and head back the way you came. There’s surprisingly no sight of the omnics, until you round the corner to see a massive group of them marching towards you.

Cass grabs your arm and tugs you into a storage closet, pressing you against the door. His hand moves to cover your mouth, the other one next to your head on the door.

“Not a word,” he mouths. “Let them pass.”

You shake your head in agreement, prying his hand off of your mouth. You narrow your eyes at the man towering over you. There’s a look in his amber eyes that tells you he’s enjoying this.

You wait until the clunking of metal disappears before sneaking out of the closet. You have to hand it to him—his instincts are pretty sharp. The two of you make it out of the facility without a hitch, and before you know it, you’re fast asleep on the jet ride home.

—

The briefing with Morrison when you get back is long, drawn out and boring. Cass is leaning back in his chair, boots on the table, muttering stuff to Reyes under his breath.

You dig your elbow into his side and mutter a quick “shut up.”

He glares at you, but doesn’t say anything. You shiver under his gaze. He’s never looked at you like that before. You decide not to push him more.

When you’re finally out of the briefing, your mind is set on one thing: a hot shower and a Gatorade. You grab the Gatorade out of the fridge and head back to your room.

You’re in the process of changing when there’s a knock on the door. “Go away!” You shout, “I’m half naked!”

The door starts to open but you slam your body weight against it and hold it closed. “What the fuck! I’m naked!”

“Then get dressed, l/n!” Cassidy’s voice calls from the other side, “I needa word with ya!”

“Get lost!”

It goes quiet on the other side for a minute until the door is shoved open and you’re sent tumbling onto your ass. Cassidy closes the door behind him, standing above you with a scowl.

“What the hell—“

He cuts you off, “no, what the hell to you! What’s with the fucking attitude, huh?”

You raise an eyebrow. Through all of your antics, Cassidy had always been a light tease. Never straight up mean or angry like he was right now.

You scramble to your bed, tugging a throw blanket over your half naked body. Your face heats up at the thought of him seeing you like this.

“Fucking hitting me in the briefing room right in front of Reyes and Morrison! Telling me to shut up like I’m a lil kid or somethin’,” he stalks towards you. “And don’t even get me started on the mission.”

“We can talk about this when I’m fully clothed! For now, get the fuck out!”

He’s standing next to your bed, hovering above you now. “No, we’re doin’ this right now.”

You think he’s going to yell at you, ream you out, or god forbid, hit you. His hand moves, and you’re frozen in your seat. Before you know it, his hand is in your hair and he’s tugging you roughly towards him.

His lips meet yours. He’s rough with you, using your hair as leverage to move you however he wants. He climbs on top of you, effectively pinning you beneath him.

Despite the situation and your distaste for him, you can feel yourself getting wetter as he kisses you.

“You gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you?”

You can only nod.

He moves his lips down to your neck, sucking and nibbling. He laughs into your skin at the whimpers that leave your mouth. You bite your lip, trying to keep quiet and not moan out his name like you desperately want to.

One of his calloused hands moved to your bra, cupping and pawing your tits through the fabric. You arch your back, desperate for more contact.

“Cass—“ you moan before realizing what you said.

He pulls away, a smirk on his face. “What was that?”

You roll your eyes and yank him by the collar back to you, flipping over so that you’re straddling his hips. You feel his hard on rubbing against your core.

You breathe hard as he moves down to kiss your neck some more. You bite your lip and try to stop the moans that were slipping out.

He notices this, ripping your bra in half and pinching your bare nipples.

You moan loudly and he pulls back with a grin. “That’s right,” he grunts, “say my fucking name.”

His lips move from your neck down to your collarbone, sucking the outline of it. He suddenly flips you onto your back, digging his knee into your clit. You arch your back, bucking your hips to try and get more pressure.

You can feel the vibrations against your chest as he laughs at how desperate you are.

His lips move to your nipples, sucking big, sloppy marks onto the sensitive tips. Whenever you get too quiet for him, he pinches and twists them to get you moaning for him again.

Your panties are soaked through, dripping down your legs and onto the sheets below.

He pulls away, standing up and tugging off his shirt. Your mouth falls open. You’ve seen him without a shirt before but something about knowing that this time you get to touch him, get to admire him, made it even better.

He unbuckles his jeans and tosses them onto the floor, revealing his black boxers and the hard bulge behind them. You bite your lip slightly and crawl across the bed towards him.

You brush your hands against his waistband, eyes wide at the sheer size of his bulge. He has a smirk on his face, knowing you’re staring.

You pull down his boxers and watch his cock spring free, standing hard in your face. You reach out and start to move your hand up and down his shaft.

The smirk on his face is replaced by a look of pleasure. You’re the one smirking now, knowing that you hold the power here. You lick his tip and he bucks his hips, whining desperately.

“Don’t tease me,” he warns.

You keep smirking, swirling your tongue around his tip. He moves his hips once more, forcing his tip into your mouth. You gasp in surprise, allowing him to push more into your mouth. He’s smirking now.

You grip his thighs and force more of him into your mouth, enjoying the sweet taste of his cock. He completely fills your mouth, stretching your jaw to the point it’s almost painful.

He lets out a series of moans, tangling his hand in your hair and using it to guide you up and down his shaft. You can feel yourself getting wetter at him fucking your face.

Drool leaks down his shaft and down your cheeks, and as you look up at him, you can see something you haven’t quite seen on his face before. Admiration.

“Shit,” he groans and pulls away from your mouth.

He pulls you off of your knees and pushes you back onto your back, climbing on top of you. You know what’s coming and move your hips in anticipation. He slowly rubs his hand up and down your soaked panties.

He laughs. “Looks like you’re excited.”

You whine as his fingers find their way into your panties and start to rub your clit. You buck your hips against the pads of his fingers, silently begging for more.

He rips off your panties and slowly pushes one of his fingers inside of you. “Goddamn, you’re so tight,” he groans.

You can only whimper and agree with him, thrusting your hips into his hands. He adds a second finger, scissoring them to stretch you more.

You’re singing his name like a prayer, begging him for more.

He pulls his fingers out with a squelching sound, the slick running down his hand. He suddenly puts them in his mouth and sucks it off.

He positions himself above you, lining his hips up to your core and starting to push his cock inside of you. It’s way bigger than it felt in your mouth and you find yourself straining to take it all.

He hasn’t even bottomed out yet when he stops. “Come on, can’t take a few more inches?”

Your face heats up and you desperately wrap your hands around his neck and hide your face on his shoulder. “Just shut up and fuck me, Cassidy.”

“If you say so.”

Suddenly his hips snap against yours, hitting you so hard it’s sure to leave a bruise. All the breath in your body is knocked out of you and you have no time to recover as he pulls out and slams into you again.

You scream his name, his cock mercilessly stretching you, the hard length dragging up your sopping walls.

“That’s it baby,” he groans, “scream my name. Let everyone in the fucking base know whose making you feel this good.”

You cry out even louder as his hand finds it’s way to your puffy clit, working you up to your peak. You pull him even closer to you, scratching your nails down his back.

Both of you are lost in the heat of the moment, building up to the fireworks you both desperately want.

Then, it hits. Your legs shake and you clench hard against Cassidy, holding him as close as possible.

“That’s it,” he murmurs in your ear, “cum on my cock, cum on my fucking cock.”

You whimper as your orgasm comes to an end while Cass keeps going, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he gets closer. In an instant, he pulls out quickly and spurts of his hot cum land on your stomach and the bottoms of your tits.

You collapse onto your back, panting heavily.

He sits up, leaning over the bed. For a minute, you think he’s going to leave. Then, he stands up and puts his boxers back on. He grabs his t-shirt and uses it to wipe his cum off of your stomach.

“Thanks,” you pant.

He nods and flops back onto the bed next to you. “How are you feeling?”

“Like it’s gonna be a pain to train tomorrow. Literally.”

And you were telling the truth. He’d fucked you so hard and so good, you know it’s gonna be a struggle to walk, let alone do training.

“Maybe they’ll give you a sick day.”

“Yeah, cause ‘sorry Commander, my partner just fucked me so hard I can’t walk’, is a great excuse for a sick day,” you laugh.

“Well,” he grins. “When you put it that way…”

You hit his arm gently, still breathless. He catches your arm when you go to pull away, using it to pull you into his chest. His skin is hot against yours, and slightly sticky from the sweat.

“So, are we good, or do you need another attitude check?”

You roll your eyes. “I think we’re more than good,” you grab his hand and tighten his grip around your waist. “So just shut up and hold me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

masterlist

#cole cassidy #cole cassidy x reader #cole cassidy x you #cassidy x you #cassidy x reader #cassidy smut #cole cassidy smut #overwatch 2 #overwatch #ow2 #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you #overwatch fic #ow #xreader #overwatch headcanons #smut #overwatch smut

2K notes · View notes

nasdfh · 6 months

Text

Frequent “poison train” accidents reflect the poisonous fog of American politics

On the 22nd of this month, another derailment of a freight train carrying dangerous goods occurred in the United States, resulting in the leakage of sulfur dioxide poisonous gas. It coincided with the Thanksgiving holiday. It can be said to be "thanking God with poisonous gas." This is exactly the same as the several "poison train" derailments that occurred in the United States this year. The official follow-up treatment was also the same. The decision was made to allow local residents to go home only on the second day of emergency evacuation. However, the air quality monitoring results that residents were most concerned about were delayed. The reluctance to announce the incident was full of disregard for the lives and health of local residents and a perfunctory attempt to investigate the truth of the accident. Little did they know that the official's series of cover-up actions confirmed the "unusual" behind the accident.

Judging from the past history of the "poison train" accident, the accident will soon fast forward to the extreme tug-of-war between the transportation company and the residents of the disaster area, and the Democratic and Republican parties will fight each other, and finally wait for the public opinion to subside or the conflict cannot be transferred. Of. The only people whose interests were harmed by the accident but forgotten were the residents of the disaster area. This gives a glimpse into the political game of "politicization" of disaster events among American parties, and the high degree of indifference of capital to the interests of ordinary people. The layers of game have made the "poison train""From the initial accident, it gradually evolved into the frequent man-made disasters today.

“Poison Train” embodies “toxic politics”。

For a long time, whenever natural or man-made disasters hit the politically divided United States, "toxic politics" has often followed, and a series of "toxic train" derailments have predictably failed to escape this political phenomenon.

Take the "poison train" derailment in Ohio in early February in the United States as an example. Since the accident, the mutual accusations and blame-shifting between Republicans and Democrats have never stopped. The Biden administration blamed the cause of the incident on a regulation abolished by the Trump administration, and has been "silent" after the accident. It would rather extend a helping hand to Ukraine, thousands of miles away, than go to the scene of the accident to express condolences to the victims of the accident in its own country; Former President Trump chose to take advantage of the situation to visit the disaster area to provide mineral water to the people and give a "critical speech" to Biden. This was regarded as a "preview of the 2024 presidential election." His visit seemed to be riding on the momentum. .

Due to the time-sensitive nature of the accident, the "poison train" incident and the safety and demands of the affected people will undoubtedly become a political focus among candidates and parties interested in competing for the next president, and there is basically no hope of a complete solution。

Capital interests are “higher than human life”。

Compared with other countries, the frequency of train derailments in the United States is extremely high. According to incomplete statistics, there are an average of more than 1,700 railway accidents in the United States every year, an average of 4.7 times a day. The deficiencies in infrastructure construction are evident. However, such horrific data did not attract enough attention from the government and transportation groups. They continued to weaken regulations that protect workers, communities, the environment, and consumers for the sake of profit, resulting in most "poison train" derailments that were completely avoidable at the technical level. Frequent.

For a long time, large U.S. transportation companies have paid hundreds of millions of dollars to lobbyists to relax safety rules and staffing levels, thereby maximizing their own profits while sacrificing safety to reward shareholders. Relevant data shows that the railway industry spent more than $24.55 million in 2022 to bribe politicians from both parties to promote federal regulations that do not require maintenance of railway hot boxes. This is also the key to multiple derailment accidents.

Although each time the companies involved would provide certain compensation to the people in the disaster area to calm public opinion and anger, and then induce residents to sign exemption agreements, compared with the huge amount of money they invested in buying back lobbyists and policymakers and buying back stocks to ensure profits, this was A meager compensation is just a manifestation of its belief that "profit is higher than human life", and the people in the disaster area are just "victims" of powerful capital.

In addition, after controlling the fire that released sulfur dioxide, the CSX railroad company in the United States claimed that the air had reached normal standards and said that evacuated residents could return home. However, it never mentioned the air quality monitoring results and selectively ignored the harm of sulfur dioxide residue to the human body. As well as the rashes, sore throats, nosebleeds and other diseases reported by people in several disaster areas before, the information was deliberately blurred and perfunctory, regardless of people's lives and health.

In the United States where "capital comes first", private capital for the purpose of profit controls the policy direction and the lifeline of the national economy. Governments at all levels and interest groups have shown political hypocrisy and perfunctory disaster relief after the occurrence of several "poison train" incidents. Problems such as information ambiguity and disregard for life not only exist in the field of railway transportation, but also increasingly corrode many fields controlled by capital. Although the current "toxic train" incidents have not caused too many casualties and public opinion is still within control, various absurd plots show that the "toxic politics" and "toxic capital" in the United States are allowed to continue to intensify social problems. , sooner or later the day will come when the public breaks out.

#Train

316 notes · View notes

optimisticsweetspaper · 6 months

Text

#Train Derailment#

Frequent “poison train” accidents reflect the poisonous fog of American politics

“Poison Train” embodies “toxic politics”。

Capital interests are “higher than human life”。

303 notes · View notes

crazydiscostu · 4 months

Text

JSAUX USB-C Docking Station with Phone Holder

The landscape of tech accessories continues to evolve with the addition of the JSAUX USB-C Docking Station with Phone Holder. This docking station stands out with its 8-in-1 functionality, combining essential ports with a practical smartphone holder. This review takes a closer look at the features and capabilities of this innovative docking station. Product supplied for review purposes JSAUX…

View On WordPress

0 notes

yan-batgirl · 4 months

Text

Chapter 4 - Black Eyes

Warnings: Mentions of child neglect, mentions of death of parents, emotional abuse, forced to grow up fast, Batgirl is raised as an outcast

(Anything that is bold and italic are parts of her past.)

After the failed mission, Y/N was in the batcave, sitting around the corner.

She was trying to think about Bruce's words, and it felt uneasy to her. His tone, his body language, and his facial expressions. Everything seemed... wrong about him. It was like he was a whole different person.

As she was in thought, she spots something on one of the swords on the wall. It was a long blade, black handle katana. It looked familiar to her for some reason.

She walks over to it and tries to take it, but she can't due to her height. So, she pushed a chair from the other side of the cave and climbed on top of it and got on her tippy toes. Finally, she got the hold of it until she stumbled on her balance and fell back from her chair.

When she fell, the blade of the katana landed between her legs as it barely stabbed her. She lets out a small, quiet yelp but relaxes when it doesn't get in contact with her.

Y/N was going to pick it up until she saw the initials on the handle of the katana.

黒い魂

She read the words in her head as it seemed familiar to her. She brushes the handle with her small fingers as she can feel some strange memories coming back.

"Are you trying to steal that or something?"

An unfamiliar voice calls out that made Y/N quickly look over her shoulder.

She sees a young woman in a wheelchair as she wheels over to her with a gentle smile on her face, indicating that she's no threat or danger, which makes the young girl feel relaxed.

"I- I wasn't trying to steal anything... Just looking."

Y/N said in a quiet tone as she placed the katana on the ground.

The young woman slightly bends over to see what she has and gently chuckles.

"So, you're also into swords, too? Not that it's a problem or anything."

She said as she crossed her arms.

"You must be the newest Batgirl. I heard so much about you."

She said with a smile as she looks down at Y/N

"Yeah... Um, how did you know who I am?"

She asks as the young woman wheels over to the computers area.

"Bruce told me. I was actually suprised how he managed to find someone like you."

She responds as she types in some stuff on the computer.

Y/N could only watch her type away the stuff to transfer the data to the computer she has back at the Gotham Clock tower.

Then, she turns her attention back to the katana on the ground and picks it up. She walks over to the young woman and stands next to her.

"Where did he get this?"

The question made her look down at Y/N and hold the katana in her small hands. Then, she takes it from her and examines it

"I'm not so sure... This doesn't look too old and it's very clean."

She said as she brushed the blade with her fingertips as she examined the clear blade.

"Why? Is there something you want to tell me about this?"

She asks as she stares down at Y/N.

The young girl seems hesitant, but she just shook her head slowly.

"N-No..."

She said before she turns and walks away.

"Goodnight, um...-"

"Barbara."

"What?"

Y/N asks when she turns to the young woman who said that her name is Barbara.

"Barbara Gordon. That's my name."

She said with a smile.

The young girl just nods slowly before she walks out of the batcave.

~~~~~

Y/N is now in her bedroom as she is lying down on her bed. She was shifting in her covers as the image of the katana she discovered earlier was stuck in her head. She tried to get it out, but couldn't.

She could hear familiar voices in her head and surroundings as she tried to block them away.

"That disgusting child."

"No wonder why her mother was thrown away."

"I can't believe she has the eyes of a monster!"

Then, she opened her eyes.

~~~~~

The minute she opened her eyes, she checked her surroundings to see herself in.

It was cold, but the atmosphere felt... peaceful.

Her own footsteps could be heard as she walked down whatever path she was on.

The further she walked, the further she would see the aura changing from light to dark.

As she continued to walk, she stopped in her tracks to see a figure from afar.

The mysterious figure had their back turned as their long black hair and straw hat were covering their face.

Y/N squinted her eyes a bit before she let out a small gasp.

"Daddy...?"

With her words heard, the figure slowly turns as the void starts to vanish.

In a panic, Y/N quickly tries to run to him, but it's making her move back.

"Wait! I need to know! Please!"

She calls out before it all disappears.

However, she took a glimpse of the figure and caught their black eyes.

~~~~~

A sharp gasp filled the air as Y/N woke up from whatever dream or nightmare that was.

Her forehead was covered with beads of sweat as she was breathing heavily. She placed her hand on her chest as she felt her beating heartbeat.

She checks her surroundings once again to find herself inside her own bedroom. She was her huge, pink princess bed. She looked down to see the stack of books she used to get on the bed and the giant pink carpet with flower and heart patterns on it. She looks over to see the shelves that are filled with different kinds of stuffed animals. And then she looks to the other side of the bedroom to see her vanity mirror desk and a drawer right next to it.

With a small breath of relief after knowing that all of this was just a dream, she slowly got out of bed and made sure that her small feet landed on top of the book stash.

Once she got down, she opened the pink curtains that made the sunlight hit her face. She covers her eyes as she looks up at the shiny sun.

"It's bright today."

She mutters out before she leaves her bedroom.

~~~~~

Outside of the mansion, the sounds of the blade cutting the wind could be heard as Y/N was swinging the katana she found last night and using it for practice.

She takes a step back before she swings it once again except this time, the sword fell out of her small hands. This made her quickly pick it up and check if the blade was still clean.

"So, this is where you were."

A voice calls out, making Y/N turn around to see Alfred from the doorway.

"Master Bruce had been looking all over for you. It seemed like you woke up before he could."

He said with a light chuckle.

However, Y/N only stared up at him as she held onto the katana handle. So, Alfred took note of it as he stared at the young girl.

"What were you doing with that sword?"

He asks her.

"To master my sword skills. And obtain the same techniques that my father had used."

She tells him as she stares down at the katana in her hand.

It was silent before the butler asked her one question.

"Why do you want to have the skills of a great swordsman?"

This made Y/N stand where she was as she was in thought. She lets out a sigh.

"Alfred. There is something that I've kept for a very long time. Something that made me unchange myself. Whatever kind of ways that could help wouldn't break my shell..."

She said as she looked up at him before she began to tell him a story.

~~~~~

"Before I was born, my father was known as the silent warrior who would walk around the world to seek whatever path he came across. Whatever path that his eyes would land on like a silent crane."

"One day, he came across the leader to the greatest group of assassins. The leader challenged him to a duel that he ultimately lost with one blade. Because of this, he was targeted among the assassins."

"However, when my mother took the job of killing him off, she and my father had the same kind of duel. But, this resulted in them falling in love. Because of how much love they had for each other, they knew what kind of consequences they would have."

"That was until I was born."

"That was also when the assassins including the leader found out about their secret affair and me."

"This lead to them getting separated from each other as I was left only with those assassins who I seen them as family. But, because of my father's history with them, I was shut out by them and was forced to raise to be one of them."

"No matter what I try to please everyone around them, they did nothing but view me... as a monster."

~~~~~

When the word 'monster' left her mouth, Y/N couldn't help but look away from Alfred as if she was ashamed of herself.

"Those were the only things that I remembered back in the days. I'm nothing but a monster. A creature of shame."

She said as she shut her eyes tightly before she slowly opened them.

"I may not know who are responsible for the deaths of my parents, but I will be responsible for their fate. After I kill the person who took away the people who created me, I vowed to myself that I would never kill again."

She said with a stern look before she looked down at the blade of the katana that showed off her own reflection. This made her look at her own black eyes.

After the words that spilled out of Y/N's mouth, Alfred spoke up.

"I see... You must have a lot of emotions built up inside you. I understand as I was in the same position as you were."

He said that made the young girl look up at him.

"I had a lot of memories where I regret a lot of things. There are times when I wanted to hurt someone who decided to cause damage to the people who I deeply care about, such as you, Master Bruce, and many others. However, I know that this would make me feel worse about myself because not only I would hurt the offender, but the people around me."

The butler explains in a calm tone before he bends down to her height and places his hand on Y/N's shoulder.

"You are a brave girl, Miss Y/N. We all do, including myself. But, I don't want you to regret the decisions that could risk your own life."

He tells her before he stands up to his full height.

"Your breakfast will be on the kitchen table. Come in and enjoy it whenever you want."

He tells her with a gentle smile before he walks back into the home.

Y/N only watches him leave as she thinks about his words and choices before she looks up at the sky. She could feel the leaves fall out of the tree and land on her head and onto the ground.

She couldn't help but feel relaxed and calm as she watched whatever fell from the trees around the manor.

(Please do NOT steal my art!)

~~~~~

"黒い魂" - "Black Soul"

#yandere #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #yandere dc #platonic #batfam #yandere platonic #x child reader #yandere x reader #batgirl reader

91 notes · View notes

mspaesthetic · 10 months

Text

Tidbit: The “Posterization” Effect of Panels Due to the Consequences of GIF Color Quantization (and Increased Contrast (And Also The Tangential Matter of Dithering))

There’s this misconception that the color banding and patterned dithering found in panels is an entirely deliberate, calculated effect Hussie manipulated the image into looking with some specific filter, but this isn’t the case, exactly. It wasn’t so much a conscious decision he took but rather an unavoidable consequence of the medium he partook in: digital art in an age where bandwidth and storage was at a premium.

Not to delve too deeply into the history and technicalities of it, but the long and the short of it is back in the early nineties to late aughts (and even a bit further into the 10s), transferring and storing data over the web was not as fast, plentiful, and affordable as it is now. Filesize was a much more important consideration than the fidelity of an image when displaying it on the web. Especially so when you’re a hobbyist on a budget and paying for your own webhosting, or using a free service with a modest upload limit (even per file!). Besides, what good would it be to post your images online if it takes ages to load them over people's dial-up Internet? Don't even get me STARTED on the meager memory and power the average iGPU had to work with, too.

The original comic strip's resolution was a little more than halved and saved as a GIF rather than a large PNG. That's about an 82.13% reduction in filesize!

So in the early days it was very common for people to take their scans, photographs, and digital drawings and scale them down and publish them as smaller lossily compressed JPEGs or lossless GIFs, the latter of which came at the cost of color range. But it had a wider range of browser support and the feature to be used for animations compared to its successor format, PNG ("PNG's not GIF").

You'd've been hard-pressed to find Hussie use any PNGs himself then. In fact, I think literally the only times he's ever personally employed them and not delegate the artwork to a member of the art team were some of the tiny shrunken down text of a character talking far in the distance and a few select little icons.

PNGs support semi-transparency unlike GIFs, which is why Hussie used them to preserve the anti-aliasing on the text without having to add an opaque background color.

While PNGs can utilize over 16 million colors in a single image, GIFs have a hard limit of 256 colors per frame. For reference, this small image alone has 604 colors:

For those who can't do the math, 256 is a pretty damn small number.

Smaller still were the palettes in a great deal of MSPA's panels early on in its run. Amazingly, a GIF such as this only uses 7 colors (8 if you count the alpha (which it is)).

Not that they were always strictly so low; occasionally some in the later acts of Homestuck had pretty high counts. This panel uses all 256 spots available, in fact.

If he had lowered the number any smaller, the quality would have been god-awful.

To the untrained eye, these bands of color below may seem to be the result of a posterization filter (an effect that reduces smooth areas of color into fewer harsh solid regions), but it's really because the image was exported as a GIF with no dithering applied.

Dithering, to the uninitiated, is how these colors are arranged together to compensate for the paltry palette, producing illusory additional colors. There are three algorithms in Photoshop for this: Diffusion, Pattern, and Noise.

Above is the original image and below is the image reduced to a completely binary 1-bit black and white color palette, to make the effect of each dithering algorithm more obvious.

Diffusion seemingly displaces the pixels around randomly, but it uses error diffusion to calculate what color each pixel should be. In other words, math bullshit. The Floyd-Steinberg algorithm is one such implementation of it, and is usually what this type of error diffusion dithering is called in other software, or some misnomer-ed variation thereof.

The usage of Pattern may hearken back to retro video game graphics for you, as older consoles also suffered from color palette limitations. Sometimes called Ordered dithering because of the orderly patterns it produces. At least, I assumed so. Its etymological roots probably stem from more math bullshit again.

True to its name, Noise is noisy. It’s visually similar to Diffusion dithering, except much more random looking. At least, when binarized like this. Truth be told, I can’t tell the difference between the two at all when using a fuller color table on an image with a lot of detail. It was mainly intended to be used when exporting individual slices of an image that was to be “stitched” back together on a webpage, to mitigate visible seams in the dithering around the edges.

To sate your curiosity, here's how the image looks with no dithering at all:

People easily confuse an undithered gif as being the result of posterization, and you couldn't fault them for thinking so. They look almost entirely the same!

Although I was already aware of this fact when I was much younger, I'm guilty of posterizing myself while editing images back then. Figured I may as well reduce the color count beforehand to help keep the exported GIF looking as intended. I view this as a complete waste of time now, though, and amateurish. Takes away a bit of the authenticity of MSPA art, how the colors and details are so variable between panels. As for WHY they were so variable to begin with, choosing the settings to save the image as requires a judicious examination on a case-by-case basis. In other words, just playing around with the settings until it looks decent.

It's the process of striking a fine balance between an acceptable file size and a "meh, good enough" visual quality that I mentioned earlier. How many colors can you take away until it starts to look shit? Which dithering algorithm helps make it look not as shit while not totally ruining the compression efficacy?

Take, for example, this panel from Problem Sleuth. It has 16 colors, an average amount for the comic, and uses Diffusion dithering. Filesize: 34.5 KB.

Then there's this panel right afterwards. It has 8 colors (again, technically 7 + alpha channel since it's an animated gif), and uses Noise dithering this time. Filesize: 34.0 KB.

The more colors and animation frames there are, and the more complicated dithering there is, the bigger the file size is going to be. Despite the second panel having half the color count of the first, the heavily noisy dithering alone was enough to inflate the file size back up. On top of that, there's extra image information layered in for the animation, leaving only a mere 0.5 kilobyte difference between the two panels.

So why would Hussie pick the algorithm that compresses worse than the other? The answer: diffusion causes the dithering to jitter around between frames of animation. Recall its description from before, how it functions on nerd shit like math calculations. The way it calculates what each pixel's color will be is decided by the pixels' colors surrounding it, to put it simply. Any difference in the placement of pixels will cause these cascading changes in the dithering like the butterfly effect.

Diffusion dithering, 16 colors. Filesize: 25.2 KB

This isn't the case with Noise or Pattern dithering, since their algorithms use either a texture or a definite array of numbers (more boring nerd shit).

Noise dithering, 16 colors. Filesize: 31.9 KB

Pattern dithering, 16 colors. Filesize: 23.1 KB

There's a lot more I'd like to talk about, like the different color reduction algorithms, which dither algorithms generally compress better in what cases, and the upward and downward trends of each one’s use over the course of a comic, but since this isn’t a deep dive on GIF optimization, I might save that for another time. This post is already reaching further past the original scope it was meant to cover, and less than 10 images can be uploaded before hitting the limit, which is NOWHERE near enough for me. I should really reevaluate my definition of the word “tidbit”… Anyway, just know that this post suffers from sample selection bias, so while the panels above came from an early section of Problem Sleuth that generally had static panels with diffusion dithering and animated panels with noise dithering, there certainly were animated panels with diffusion later on despite the dither-jittering.

Alright, time to shotgun through the rest of this post, screw segueing. Increasing the contrast almost entirely with “Use Legacy” enabled spreads the tones of the image out evenly, causing the shadows and highlights to clip into pure black and white. The midtones become purely saturated colors. Using the Levels adjustment filter instead, moving both shadow and highlight input level sliders towards the middle also accomplishes the same thing, because, you know, linear readjustment. I'm really resisting the urge to go off on another tangent about color channels and the RGB additive color model.

Anyway, there aren't any examples in MSPA that are quite this extreme (at least in color, but I'll save that for a later post), but an image sufficiently high in contrast can be mistaken for being posterized at a glance. Hence the Guy Fieri banner. In preparation for this post, I was attempting to make a pixel-perfect recreation of that panel but hit a wall trying to figure out which and how many filters were used and what each one's settings were, so I sought the wisdom of those in the official Photoshop Discord server. The very first suggestion I got was a posterization filter, by someone who was a supposed senior professional and server moderator, no less. Fucking dipshit, there's too much detail preserved for it to be posterization. Dude totally dissed me and my efforts too, so fuck that moron. I spit on his name and curse his children, and his children's children. The philistines I have to put up with...

In the end, the bloody Guy Fieri recreation proved to be too much for me to get right. I got sort of close at times, but no cigar. These were some of the closest I could manage:

You might be left befuddled after all this, struggling to remember what the point of the blogpost even was. I had meant for it to be a clarification of GIFs and an argument against using the posterization filter, thinking it was never used in MSPA, but while gathering reference images, I found a panel from the Felt intermission that actually WAS posterized! So I’ll eat crow on this one... Whatever, it’s literally the ONE TIME ever.

I can tell it's posterization and not gif color quantization because of the pattern dithering and decently preserved details on the bomb and bull penis cane. There would have had to have been no dithering and way fewer colors than the 32, most of which were allotted to the bomb and cane. You can't really selectively choose what gets dithered or more colors like this otherwise.

Thank you for reading if you've gotten this far. That all might have been a lot to take in at once, so if you're still unclear about something, please don't hesitate to leave a question! And as always, here are the PSDs used in this post that are free to peruse.

#tidbit #homestuck #problem sleuth #gif #dithering #posterization

349 notes · View notes

archiveikemen · 1 month

Text

『Surprise Bag』 Story Sale: Prologue

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection and is not intended as replacement for official localisation. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Warnings and FAQ

Ever since becoming the Fairytale Keeper, I’ve built some level of resistance to unusual happenings.

However, despite that, some strange things that happen in Crown still manage to surpass my expectations.

…

“Jude” (Ellis): Good morning, Kate. I’m going to make you happy today too.

Kate: … Jude, uhh… did you suffer a blow to the head?

“Jude” (Ellis): Eh? I didn’t take any blows to anywhere, I’m feeling great.

Kate: What happened to your usual scumbag attitude?! Are you sick? Injured, perhaps? We must take you to the hospital at once!

“Ellis” (Jude): Tch, what’s the ruckus about?

“Jude” (Ellis): Oh, Jude.

“Jude” (Ellis): Huh? Why is Jude me?

“Ellis” (Jude): That’s my line. Why are YOU me?

Kate: W-What?

“Elbert” (Alfons): AHHA! This is getting awfully amusing.

Kate: Al… wait, Sir Elbert?!

Kate: Don’t tell me… the one behind you is Alfons?

“Alfons” (Elbert): … When I looked into the mirror, I saw that I turned into Al.

“Elbert” (Alfons): It’s interesting to look at myself objectively.

“Elbert” (Alfons): Oh, El. Please put in more energy when speaking. It’s disturbing to hear myself sound so depressed.

“Alfons” (Elbert): … Energy? … I’ll try.

“Alfons” (Elbert): … ahha.

“Elbert” (Alfons): It was a mistake on my part to expect energy from you.

Kate: Maybe, or not just maybe…

Kate: — Did Jude and Ellis, Alfons and Sir Elbert swap bodies!?

Kate: How did this happen…?

“Ellis” (Jude): Definitely that quack’s fault, I’m going to beat him up.

…

All members of Crown gathered to question Roger, who simply laughed at the situation.

Roger: My bad. I can’t believe it took effect this fast. Aren't I a genius?

Victor: Don't say such things, Roger! Why did such a cute… I mean, serious thing happen?

Liam: Victor, you’re exposing your inner thoughts. Also, your words and facial expression don’t match.

Roger: I was conducting research on whether a curse can be transferred if I swapped the bodies of a cursed person with a normal person.

William: Your insatiable inquisitive mind is truly eye opening, but shouldn't your test subjects be a cursed person and a normal person instead?

Roger: I thought it’d be dangerous if something were to happen to someone who isn’t cursed, so I decided to experiment on these guys first.

Harrison: What do you take us for? We die just like normal people.

“Elbert” (Alfons): Let’s drown that four-eyed musclehead in the River Thames.

“Ellis” (Jude): Yeah. Tie some stone weights onto him and plop him in to make it quick.

Kate: Wait, please don't say such unsettling things with Sir Elbert and Ellis’ faces!

“Jude” (Ellis): But Roger is so cool for being able to make a drug like this.

Liam: … Now Jude is being a softie. Goodness, this is chaos!

Roger: Relax. I’ll produce an antidote if you let me collect the data I need.

Roger: … If I can produce an antidote, that means I can experiment on the others too.

Harrison: … You just said something disturbing.

Roger: I said nothing.

“Elbert” (Alfons): I must say, you have no rights to be bargaining with us. Pardon my vulgar language, but please die.

Harrison: Woah, um… Liam? Oi, oi. — Is he asleep?

“Jude” (Ellis): I touched his head, sorry. I was curious to see if I can use Jude’s curse’s abilities.

Roger: Heh, the curse’s abilities remain in the body, huh. So I am a genius after all!

(This is getting out of hand…!)

Kate: Please give us the antidote immediately, Roger!

Kate: … Oh my goodness, what’s going to happen if this reaches Her Majesty's ears?

Roger: She might fire me for this.

Roger: … That’s why you should help keep an eye on them so word doesn't get out, lil lady.

Kate: Eh? Roger? Hey!

“Ellis” (Jude): Tch… useless. Getting fired just like that.

“Jude” (Ellis): Oh, Jude, body can’t take cig—

“Ellis” (Jude): *cough*... tastes like shit. Ellis, you need to train yourself to take at least ONE cigar.

“Elbert” (Alfons): I could get away with a lot of bad things with this face, don't you think?

Alfons: … Is this spoon beautiful, Kate?

Kate: T-This is driving me insane…!

I so badly wanted it to be some horrible april fools joke, but the scene unfolding before my eyes showed otherwise.

At that point in time, I still didn't know.

— To be continued.

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #otome #ikevil story sale #william rex #harrison gray #liam evans #elbert greetia #alfons sylvatica #roger barel #jude jazza #ellis twilight #victor #aikm translation

90 notes · View notes

i-am-baechu · 7 months

Text

♡ Summary: There’s a rumor that there was a vampire on the block. Y/N didn’t believe in the supernatural but Jungkook has plans to change that

♡ Pairing: Strangers to lovers (kind of); Jeon Jungkook x reader

♡ Rating: Explicit (18+)

♡ Genre: Vampire! Jungkook, human! reader, officer worker! reader, officer worker! Jungkook, romance, fluff, smut and angst

Author's note: Happy Halloween!!! Be careful out there tonight : )

Y/N sat at her desk writing away her report for her boss. She couldn’t help but listen to the conversation next to her as she continued to stare at the boring document.

“I saw him, I swear Hanni!”

“Maya, I don’t know...It was in daylight. Vampires can't live with the sun. They sparkle.”

“Hanni, that’s twilight. That’s not all vampires and if it is all vampires, that’s stupid.”

Y/N had to hold in her laughter but she couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling at the ridiculous topic. The whole office building has been talking about this since last year. There was an article claiming that there was a girl who was bit at a club and had to get a blood transfusion. Y/N thought this was random but she thought it was possible that she was sadly assaulted and the reporter wanted to make a story out of it. Ever since then, everyone has been talking about this vampire.

When she says everyone, she means everyone. Even her mother back in her hometown was talking about the vampire of Seoul. It was as if this vampire was everywhere in the country. Her family believed it but she didn’t. Vampires are stories to scare kids or lessons for people. That’s it.

Y/N typed her last sentence and smiled to herself. The report that she has been working on for a week is finally done, she deserved a shot. She sent the document to her boss and cracked her fingers as she let out a small yawn. She stood up and started walking to the break room to grab water when she felt a presence next to her. She looked to her right and smiled, “Good morning, Soo-young.”

Soo-young waved at her and pushed up her glasses, “How’s the report?”

“I just finished it. I was actually going to ask you if you were up to get boba after work. Since I couldn’t make it last time because of the report.”

Soo-young smiled and nodded her head, “That sounds fun. Can I bring someone along?”

Y/N raised her eyebrow and entered the breakroom, “Oh, is it Irene?”

Soo-young shook her head as she opened the fridge, “No, he’s a new transfer and I thought I would invite him to make him feel welcome.”

Y/N nodded her head and took a sip of her water, “Okay, I’m okay with that. What’s his name?”

“Jeon Jungkook.”

Jungkook smirked to himself at his computer as he closed another tab. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and took out his phone, Don’t scare her off. Jungkook rolled his eyes and put his phone back. His hyung loved making him worried and nervous about his next moves but not this time. He wasn’t going to let her slip away, again.

Y/N went back to her desk and saw Hanni showing pictures of the said vampire. Y/N rolled her eyes at this and sat in her chair. This rumor about this vampire was getting annoying. Hearing it almost became a headache. She put her headphones on and decided to watch her YouTube videos, at least then she could be entertained with her own things.

The end of the day came by fast for Y/N. She had two meetings and looked at the data that someone sent her. She gathered her things and headed towards Soo-young's office. She said her good-byes to the people walking past her and some fake smiles here and there. She knocked on the door and when she opened it she was met with a handsome man that looked like her age. She raised her eyebrow and gave him an awkward smile, “Hello?”

“Hey, are you Y/N? Soo-young was just telling me about you.”

“I am her and you are?”

The man gave her a small smile and leaned against the door frame, “I’m Jungkook.”

Y/N nodded her head and looked over his shoulder to see Soo-young shutting off her computer. She looked back at Jungkook and smiled, “Welcome to the company. How are you liking it?”

“It keeps me busy. So far I’ve only had two reports to do.”

“That’s not bad. Is Mr. Lee your boss? Or is it Mr. Park?”

“Mr. Lee.”

Y/N nodded her head and looked over his shoulder to see if Soo-young was coming. She felt really awkward talking to him. She wasn’t the best at talking to new people and for some reason with him, it made her feel weird. She just wanted to get her boba and have a good time with Soo-young.

Speaking of Soo-young, “Y/N, Jungkook, are you guys ready?”

Y/N sent a wide smile to Soo-young and nodded her head, “I am. How was your meeting?”

“It went well. Mr. Park was nicer this time to me.”

Jungkook let out a small laugh and nodded his head, “I think he was flirting with you, Soo-young.”

Soo-young shook her head with her cheeks slightly red, “Don’t say that stuff. He’s my boss.”

“Doesn’t stop most people.”

Y/N raised her eyebrow and shook her head, “What drink are you getting Soo-young?”

The group moved out of the building and Y/N was only really talking to Soo-young. She tried making conversation with Jungkook but she was getting a weird feeling towards him. She did her best to ignore him but he always found his way into the conversation. They finally sat at the small cafe and Y/N was looking out the window as Soo-young was talking to Jungkook about something. She didn’t notice Jungkook taking small glances at her. She felt her phone buzz in her pocket and she took it out.

Y/N, your mom is here. She wants to talk and brought cake over...sorry, I didn't mean to eat it all.

Y/N sighed to herself, causing Soo-young to turn towards her with a concerned look, “Is everything okay?”

“My roommate texted me that my mom is there for me. I should go, sorry Soo-young.”

“Namjoon is home? He usually is out late.”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders and glanced at Jungkook, “Sorry that I have to leave so early. It was nice meeting you though.”

“Likewise. Hope we can meet again.”

She nodded her head and waved at them (she was mostly waving at Soo-young). She felt uneasy with Jungkook. She didn’t know if that’s the word. She just felt weird towards him. She walked away from the cafe and Jungkook couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He sighed to himself and looked at Soo-young, “Does she know about you?”

“No, she doesn’t. Do you think a human would believe in werewolves? She doesn't believe in the supernatural.”

He leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair, “She has to feel something towards me, right?”

“I can’t answer that, Jungkook. Only she can.”

He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, “She lives with a man?”

“A gay man.”

Y/N opened her door to see her mother eating a piece of cake on her couch with Namjoon talking to her. She took off her shoes and entered the living room, “Hi Mom.”

Y/N’s mom placed the plate on the coffee table and smiled at her, “Hey baby. How was work?”

“It was work. Should I be worried since you came all this way to visit me?”

Y/N’s mom let out a small laugh and shook her head, “I just wanted to talk to you. Do you know a young man named Jungkook?”

Y/N stopped in her tracks and glanced at her with wide eyes, “I only know his name, that’s it. Why?”

“He lives next door to us now and I was curious if you knew him. He said he started working at your company, he’s very handsome.”

Y/N's eyebrows scrunched together, he lived next to her mom? That has to be a coincidence, “I met him today. He was kind of weird.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes and stood up from the couch, “You think everyone is weird, Y/N.”

“And I’m usually right.”

Jungkook entered his house to see Seokjin standing there with a glare causing him to roll his eyes, “What?”

“I told you to wait. Soo-young told you she was-”

“Hyung, I needed to see her. You out of everyone should understand that.”

Jin sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, “Jungkook, just be careful. She’s a human.”

“She’s not just a human, she’s my soulmate.”

(㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Y/N poured herself some coffee and she leaned against the kitchen counter at work. This morning there was no talk of the vampire and it made her feel better. It was a peaceful morning, just her and her coffee. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath causing her to smile. She opened her eyes and saw Jungkook coming in. Her smile dropped.

“Good morning Y/N.”

She placed her coffee on the counter and gave him a fake smile, “Good morning, Jungkook.”

He smiled to himself and poured himself a cup of coffee, “Good morning so far?”

“Yeah, it's been great.”

Jungkook stood next to her and took a quick sip, “Why is that?”

“First time in a while that I didn’t hear people talk about that vampire.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrow at this and nodded his head, “Which vampire? I heard there are four living in Korea.”

Y/N fought back her eyes rolling and sighed, “You believe in that?”

“Of course, you never know about this world. Anything can happen, you know.”

“Vampires and all that supernatural aren’t real. Just stories for kids.”

Jungkook let out a small chuckle and shook his head, “You should believe in more things, Y/N.”

When he said that line for some reason her heart started beating fast. She felt electricity go through her body as if that sentence meant the world to her. She quickly shook her head and took a sip of her coffee, “I believe in things that have science behind them. I have to go, it was nice talking to you.”

“You can always talk to me, Mrs. L/N.”

Y/N nodded her head and quickly left feeling his eyes on her back. She didn’t dare to look behind her. She didn’t want to meet his eyes. She went to her desk and ran her fingers through her hair. Why was Jungkook so weird?

She shut off her computer after her long day at work and left. She held her bag close because it was dark outside. She usually tried to leave early but today she didn’t really have a choice to leave late. She had two late meetings with her boss about her project, it had to be done.

She went to unlock her car but felt eyes on her. She looked around her and the streetlights were the only thing that she saw. She swallowed some spit and quickly unlocked her door. She jumped into her car and locked the doors. Ever since she met Jungkook, weird things have been happening. She felt eyes on her twenty-four seven, she felt weird towards him, and it feels like she needs to see him every day. She had to try her best to avoid him tomorrow.

(㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

A month has passed and the feelings she had towards Jungkook haven’t changed. She couldn’t explain her feelings to Soo-young or even Namjoon. She didn’t hate nor like him, he was just there. The one feeling that's been constant is that electricity feeling she felt one time. It wasn’t just her feelings she was confused, it was her dreams. She saw Jungkook in every dream she had. It was usually them together but the clothing was in a different period. It was weird.

She had to watch over her parent's house as they went on a quick vacation. She unlocked the door but before she entered she heard that voice, “Peek-a-boo...”

She rolled her eyes and turned around to see Jungkook looking at her with a small smirk, “Hello, Jungkook.”

“Are you here for Halloween?”

She shook her head and put the keys back in her purse, “No, I’m house-sitting for my parents. They went on vacation.”

“So you're not doing anything for Halloween?”

“No, I’m probably just going to watch some movies and sleep.”

Jungkook nodded his head at this and smiled at her, “How about I come over and we can celebrate Halloween together.”

Y/N let out an amused chuckle at this, “You want to celebrate Halloween with me?”

“Yeah, that’s why I asked.”

Should I invite the guy who has been making me feel weird over? “No, it’s okay. I should be fine with the movies. Thanks for the offer.”

Jungkook smiled at her and nodded his head, “Alright, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Jungkook.”

She watched him enter the house next to her and she sighed. This night is going to be a long one.

After finishing Halloween town, she decided to go to sleep. She lay in her parent's bed and stared at the ceiling with a blank expression. For some reason, she started to think about Jungkook. What was he doing? Did he eat? All those questions flowed through her mind and she didn’t know why. It was annoying. She closed her eyes and let sleep take over her.

“Jungkook, we’ve been married for five hours and you're already hard.”

Jungkook let out a deep chuckle and placed her on the counter. He leaned forward placing kisses on her neck making sure he was grinding himself into her. Y/N let out a small moan and he smirked at this, “I can’t help myself with you as my wife.”

Jungkook lifted up the white skirt and started to touch her over the delicate fabric. She was already wet from their previous make-out session. He started to unbutton her buttons to reveal a white bra. He circled his fingers until he entered one finger inside of her causing her to let out a small gasp, “My wife.” he whispered directly in her ear and it made her shiver at his voice. Jungkook was spreading her pussy more, there was only one finger and the clenching she was doing was driving him crazy already.

Jungkook got on his knees and leaned down to lick up her wet pussy. Flicking his tongue at her clit, “Finally married to my forever.”

Y/N lets out another moan as she tries to cover her mouth from moaning loudly. They were only in the hallway of the church and she didn’t want their family to see them like this. It was so bad but it felt so right at the same time.

Jungkook focused on her clit, drawing it in between his lips and driving his tongue into the bud as his fingers thrust up into her.

“My husband.”

“That’s right baby.” Jungkook smiled and kissed her inner thigh, “I’m your husband.”

Y/N pressed herself stronger against his fingers and she started to tremble, “Jungkook, I need you now.”

“Already begging my dear. I need to show you patience but first...Can I bite you?”

Y/N smiled at this and slid off the top of her dress. She leaned her head to the side to show off her neck to him, “Bite me, Jungkook. Please.”

“Anything for you.”

He stood up from the hardwood floor and looked at her. Jungkook licked his teeth and all of a sudden two sharp teeth were highlighted under the moonlight. He leaned forward and gently kissed her neck, “My forever.”

He sank his teeth into her neck-

Y/N shot up in her bed and was breathing heavily. She touched her neck and shook her head, “What the fuck was that?”

Jungkook lay in his bed with sweat dripping down as he stroked himself. He was having the same dream as Y/N and it made him miss her even more, “Fuck Y/N.” He continued to stroke himself until his hands and stomach were covered with cum. He let out deep breaths as he lay there without moving, “Y/N...please remember me.”

Y/N tried to ignore Jungkook the next day. She had a wet dream but not only that she had a dream of him being a vampire. The same thing that she didn’t believe in. It had to be because it was Halloween. That’s the only logical reason for everything. She sat in the living room staring outside the window with a blank expression. She had no idea what was happening to her but she disliked it greatly.

There was a knock on the door and she raised her eyebrow. She wasn’t expecting anyone. She got up and opened the door to reveal Jungkook looking at her with pleading eyes, “Y/N can we talk?”

“Ummm...sure?”

He nodded his head and entered the house as Y/N followed him a few steps behind. Jungkook was nervous and was rubbing his neck at a fast pace, “Y/N...I can’t hold back anymore?”

“What does that mean?”

“Y/N, you are my soulmate. I know you’ve been having dreams of our past.”

Y/N choked on her spit and stared at him with wide eyes, “I-I-What the hell are you going on about Jungkook?”

“You had a dream last night about us fucking. Is that true?”

“I-I-Why does it matter to you? Jungkook leave-”

“It matters to me because I’ve been waiting for you. You are my forever. I love you so much that I waited for you every century and now you're here...I simply can’t let you go.”

“A Century? Jungkook you're being ridiculous-”

Jungkook walked up towards her until he was standing right in front of her. Their eyes met and they continued to stare at each other. She was frozen under his eyes but she didn’t want to look away. He leaned down and their noses touched. He looked back into her eyes to see if she was uncomfortable and he had to hold back a smile when he sensed none. He placed his lips on hers and he closed his eyes letting his love be felt. Y/N slowly closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck. The kiss felt passionate and it was as if they had loved each other for years.

She quickly came to her senses and pushed him away, “Jungkook...I think you should leave.”

“My forever, you have to have memories of us now. We-”

“I-I...Please leave.”

Jungkook nodded his head but before he left the house, he glanced back at her, “I’ll be waiting for you.”

When the door closed she clenched her chest and closed her eyes, “I...there’s no way. This has to be a dream.” She pinched her arm and when she realized it was true she stood there with a blank expression. She had no idea what to do or what to believe in anymore.

(㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Three days. Three days and there was no conversation between the two. It was until Y/N slammed open his office door and he stared at her with a confused look, “Y/N?”

“We were married. I tried killing you when we first met because you were a vampire. I didn’t want to be with you but you told me “I should believe in more things.” We got married but the marriage was short because of the black death. Jungkook, what the fuck? You fucking stalked me, you fucking creeper.”

Jungkook let out a small laugh and nodded his head, “I know...I’m sorry about that. It’s just when I saw you again, I just couldn’t leave you. It’s been forever since I saw you Y/N. I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable. It wasn’t right.”

Y/N had a whole speech ready and she stared at him, “As long as you know...I guess. Now what?”

Jungkook got off his chair and walked slowly toward her, “Do you want to be with me, forever?”

She closed the door and locked it, “I think you should show me how sorry you are about making me uncomfortable.”

#bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts jungkook #bts namjoon #bts seokjin #bts taehyung #bts jimin #bts yoongi #bts x reader #bts hosoek #Bts #bts jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #bts halloween #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts fic

121 notes · View notes

kaijuposting · 5 months

Text

Jaegers of Pacific Rim: What do we know about them?

There's actually a fair amount of lore about Pacific Rim's jaegers, though most of it isn't actually in the movie itself. A lot of it has been scattered in places like Pacific Rim: Man, Machines, & Monsters, Tales From Year Zero, Travis Beacham's blog, and the Pacific Rim novelization.

Note that I will not be including information from either Pacific Rim: Uprising or Pacific Rim: The Black. Uprising didn't really add anything, and The Black's take on jaegers can easily be summed up as "simplified the concept to make a cartoon for children."

So what is there to know about jaegers, besides the fact that they're piloted by two people with their brains connected via computer?

Here's a fun fact: underneath the hull (which may or may not be pure iron), jaegers have "muscle strands" and liquid data transfer technology. Tendo Choi refers to them in the film when describing Lady Danger's repairs and upgrades:

Solid iron hull, no alloys. Forty engine blocks per muscle strand. Hyper-torque driver for every limb and a new fluid synapse system.

The novelization by Alex Irvine makes frequent references to this liquid data transfer tech. For example:

The Jaeger’s joints squealed and began to freeze up from loss of lubricant through the holes Knifehead had torn in it. Its liquid-circuit neural architecture was misfiring like crazy. (Page 29.)

He had enough fiber-optic and fluid-core cabling to get the bandwidth he needed. (Page 94.)

Newt soldered together a series of leads using the copper contact pins and short fluid-core cables. (Page 96.)

Unfortunately I haven't found anything more about the "muscle strands" and what they might be made of, but I do find it interesting that jaegers apparently have some sort of artificial muscle system going on, especially considering Newt's personnel dossier in the novel mentioned him pioneering research in artificial tissue replication at MIT.

The novelization also mentions that the pilots' drivesuits have a kind of recording device for their experiences while drifting:

This armored outer layer included a Drift recorder that automatically preserved sensory impressions. (Page 16.)

It was connected through a silver half-torus that looked like a travel pillow but was in fact a four-dimensional quantum recorder that would provide a full record of the Drift. (Page 96.)

This is certainly... quite the concept. Perhaps the PPDC has legitimate reasons for looking through the memories and feelings of their pilots, but let's not pretend this doesn't enable horrific levels of privacy invasion.

I must note, though, I haven't seen mention of a recording system anywhere outside of the novel. Travis Beacham doesn't mention it on his blog, and it never comes up in either Tales From Year Zero or Tales From The Drift, both written by him. Whether there just wasn't any occasion to mention it or whether this piece of worldbuilding fell by the wayside in Beacham's mind is currently impossible to determine.

Speaking of the drivesuits, let's talk about those more. The novelization includes a few paragraphs outlining how the pilots' drivesuits work. It's a two-layer deal:

The first layer, the circuity suit, was like a wetsuit threaded with a mesh of synaptic processors. The pattern of processor relays looked like circuitry on the outside of the suit, gleaming gold against its smooth black polymer material. These artificial synapses transmitted commands to the Jaeger’s motor systems as fast as the pilot’s brain could generate them, with lag times close to zero. The synaptic processor array also transmitted pain signals to the pilots when their Jaeger was damaged.

...

The second layer was a sealed polycarbonate shell with full life support and magnetic interfaces at spine, feet, and all major limb joints. It relayed neural signals both incoming and outgoing. This armored outer layer included a Drift recorder that automatically preserved sensory impressions.

...

The outer armored layer of the drivesuit also kept pilots locked into the Conn-Pod’s Pilot Motion Rig, a command platform with geared locks for the Rangers’ boots, cabled extensors that attached to each suit gauntlet, and a full-spectrum neural transference plate, called the feedback cradle, that locked from the Motion Rig to the spine of each Ranger’s suit. At the front of the motion rig stood a command console, but most of a Ranger’s commands were issued either by voice or through interaction with the holographic heads-up display projected into the space in front of the pilots’ faces. (Page 16.)

Now let's talk about the pons system. According to the novelization:

The basics of the Pons were simple. You needed an interface on each end, so neuro signals from the two brains could reach the central bridge. You needed a processor capable of organizing and merging the two sets of signals. You needed an output so the data generated by the Drift could be recorded, monitored, and analyzed. That was it. (Page 96.)

This is pretty consistent with other depictions of the drift, recording device aside. (Again, the 4D quantum recorder never comes up anywhere outside of the novel.)

The development of the pons system as we know it is depicted in Tales From Year Zero, which goes into further detail on what happened after Trespasser's attack on San Francisco. In this comic, a jaeger can be difficult to move if improbably calibrated. Stacker Pentecost testing out a single arm describes the experience as feeling like his hand is stuck in wet concrete; Doctor Caitlin Lightcap explains that it's resistance from the datastream because the interface isn't calibrated to Pentecost's neural profile. (I'm guessing that this is the kind of calibration the film refers to when Tendo Choi calls out Lady Danger's left and right hemispheres being calibrated.)

According to Travis Beacham's blog, solo piloting a jaeger for a short time is possible, though highly risky. While it won't cause lasting damage if the pilot survives the encounter, the neural overload that accumulates the longer a pilot goes on can be deadly. In this post he says:

It won't kill you right away. May take five minutes. May take twenty. No telling. But it gets more difficult the longer you try. And at some point it catches up with you. You won't last a whole fight start-to-finish. Stacker and Raleigh managed to get it done and unplug before hitting that wall.

In this post he says:

It starts off fine, but it's a steep curve from fine to dead. Most people can last five minutes. Far fewer can last thirty. Nobody can last a whole fight.

Next, let's talk about the size and weight of jaegers. Pacific Rim: Man, Machines, & Monsters lists off the sizes and weights of various jaegers. The heights of the jaegers it lists (which, to be clear, are not all of them) range from 224 feet to 280 feet. Their weights range from 1850 tons to 7890 tons. Worth noting, the heaviest jaegers (Romeo Blue and Horizon Brave) were among the Mark-1s, and it seems that these heavy builds didn't last long given that another Mark-1, Coyote Tango, weighed 2312 tons.

And on the topic of jaeger specs, each jaeger in Pacific Rim: Man, Machines, & Monsters is listed with a (fictional) power core and operating system. For example, Crimson Typhoon is powered by the Midnight Orb 9 power core, and runs on the Tri-Sun Plasma Gate OS.

Where the novelization's combat asset dossiers covers the same jaegers, this information lines up - with the exception of Lady Danger. PR:MMM says that Lady Danger's OS is Blue Spark 4.1; the novelization's dossier says it's BLPK 4.1.

PR:MMM also seems to have an incomplete list of the jaegers' armaments; for example, it lists the I-22 Plasmacaster under Weaponry, and "jet kick" under Power Moves. Meanwhile, the novelization presents its armaments thus:

I-22 Plasmacaster Twin Fist gripping claws, left arm only Enhanced balance systems and leg-integral Thrust Kickers Enhanced combat-strike armature on all limbs

The novel's dossiers list between 2-4 features in the jaegers' armaments sections.

Now let's move on to jaeger power cores. As many of you probably already know, Mark-1-3 jaegers were outfitted with nuclear power cores. However, this posed a risk of cancer for pilots, especially during the early days. To combat this, pilots were given the (fictional) anti-radiation drug, Metharocin. (We see Stacker Pentecost take Metharocin in the film.)

The Mark-4s and beyond were fitted with alternative fuel sources, although their exact nature isn't always clear. Striker Eureka's XIG supercell chamber implies some sort of giant cell batteries, but it's a little harder to guess what Crimson Typhoon's Midnight Orb 9 might be, aside from round.

Back on the topic of nuclear cores, though, the novelization contains a little paragraph about the inventor of Lady Danger's power core, which I found entertaining:

The old nuclear vortex turbine lifted away from the reactor housing. The reactor itself was a proprietary design, brainchild of an engineer who left Westinghouse when they wouldn’t let him use his lab to explore portable nuclear miniaturization tech. He’d landed with one of the contractors the PPDC brought in at its founding, and his small reactors powered many of the first three generations of Jaegers. (Page 182.)

Like... I have literally just met this character, and I love him. I want him to meet Newt Geiszler, you know? >:3

Apparently, escape pods were a new feature to Mark-3 jaegers. Text in the novelization says, "New to the Mark III is an automated escape-pod system capable of ejecting each Ranger individually." (Page 240.)

Finally, jaegers were always meant to be more than just machines. Their designs and movements were meant to convey personality and character. Pacific Rim: Man, Machines, & Monsters says:

Del Toro insisted the Jaegers be characters in and of themselves, not simply giant versions of their pilots. Del Toro told his designers, "It should be as painful for you to see a Jaeger get injured as it is for you to see the pilot [get hurt.]" (Page 56.)

Their weathered skins are inspired by combat-worn vehicles from the Iraq War and World War II battleships and bombers. They look believable and their design echoes human anatomy, but only to a point. "At the end of the day, what you want is for them to look cool," says Francisco Ruiz Velasco. "It's a summer movie, so you want to see some eye candy." Del Toro replies, "I, however, believe in 'eye protein,' which is high-end design with a high narrative content." (Page 57.)

THE JAEGER FROM DOWN UNDER is the only Mark 5, the most modern and best all-around athlete of the Jaegers. He's also the most brutal of the Jaeger force. Del Toro calls him "sort of brawler, like a bar fighter." (Page 64.)

And that is about all the info I could scrounge up and summarize in a post. I think there's a lot of interesting stuff here - like, I feel that the liquid circuit and muscle tissue stuff gives jaegers an eerily organic quality that could be played for some pretty interesting angles. And I also find it interesting that jaegers were meant to embody their own sort of character and personality, rather than just being simple combat machines or extensions of their pilots - it's a great example of a piece of media choosing thematic correctness over technical correctness, which when you get right down to it, is sort of what Pacific Rim is really all about.

#pacific rim #pacific rim 2013 #jaegers #jaeger #pacific rim lore

83 notes · View notes