#world complex headquarters | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

simp-ly-writes · 5 months

Text

A Shadow Company Visit (pt.1)

Pairing: Commander Philip Graves x Designer!Reader

Summary: What happens when you visit the Shadow Company headquarters?

Warnings: 1000+ words, mentions of anxiety.

A/N: a little bit silly, this one.

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

A Shadow Company Visit Series (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) you are here

You and Philip had been dating for awhile now and you had helped to design the refurbished space of the new Shadow Company headquarters.

You hadn't beed back to the location since its completed construction just before it came to life; and Graves enjoyed keeping a very clear work-life balance. So this was you first time; dropping off the commanders paperwork that was forgotten beside a half-empty mug of coffee atop the kitchen counter.

When you drive up to the imposingly large gate, situated with turrets guarding the entrance and scanning over your vehicle. You nearly piss yourself when a smack against your roof startles your observing state. A uniformed officer comes in front of your car-window and motions for your to roll it down, asking for your identification.

You go blank with anxiousness, you had not thought about this bit while running out the house after your partner; knowing that these papers were important from the various stamps upon the beige folder.

Your eyes dart around the walls of the complex while reaching your hand towards the console to grab your phone; your breath hitches as a gun appears in your face; your breath catching in your throat as your body stills.

They demand to see your hands and you comply. You mouth not blubbering off at the speed of light explanations to your scenario and what you were reaching towards, pleading that you've never held a gun beside shooting ranges.

Your brain and heart screams for Philips presence right now. For him to take you into his arms; shielding you from the world while pressing kisses to your forehead.

Taking in a deep breath, you restart your explanation with a somewhat even tone in your voice as the officer nods their head and watches closely as you dial their commanders number and hear it ring for only a few seconds before a response if heard, echoing down the line.

Everything alright, sweetheart?

You heart explodes with relief with the sound of his voice as you begin to explain the scenario you have gotten yourself into. Eyes trailing upwards and into your rearview mirror, looking at the two other cars stuck behind your own; shaking your head and setting it against the steering wheel.

You hear him chuckle into the phone as you begin to shrink into yourself, a frown spreading across your face as your cheeks redden.

Well commander can you please, for the love of all things, get me out of this situation? Your embarrassment was reaching its capacity as you sassed Philip back in response.

The line goes silent for a moment and then you hear the distant sounds of orders being yelled down a hall before a huff. The phone is picked up once more,

See you in a few baby.

You swear you could hear the wink as the phone-line goes dead. You wait in your car, and glance around, taking a look to your right and see the same officer who is now pale in the face; your cheeks become reddened again once you realize you had kept the window rolled down and they had barred witness to your whole plead case.

No words are spoken between the two of you, you look to see that the ground was freshly wet underneath their feet as you drove through the newly opened gate while feeling guilty about the station worker.

Finding a parking spot was more difficult than you thought, overly worried that your car would block a tank or jet in the avaliable spaces, you had a long walk ahead of you to the main building. The tarmac hot against your boots with the files digging into the palm of your hand.

Viewing the space in action set shockwaves to your core as you took a minute to pause for a second and proudly stare over people using your work.

You felt eyes following your figure as your feet picked up their pace once more towards the doors. Looking yourself over-quickly and at everyone in their uniforms; you stuck out like a sore thumb in your civilian clothes as embarrassment struck you for a third time today.

Yet before you knew it, a fourth time was already glaring in your face. You didn't have a key card.

For designing this fucking place you think the hospitality would be grander... mumbling underneath your breath you look for someone you recognised, not wanting to disturb Philip once more from his work. Your eyes make their way throughout the base and the various stations in motion, you couldn't help but feel proud over your partners accomplishments; their dreams.

Next thing you know, the sounds of wizzing blades flying overhead capture your attention form the card hunt as you watch the helicopter gradually land in a designated station. Squinting your eyes down the field in hopes it's someone headed your way; the sight of dirty-blonde station chief has you crying out in utmost relief.

Kate Laswell's feet sway at the weight of your forceful hug against her body. Looking around at her task force in confusion; she looks down and smiles in relief upon seeing you and returning the hug with a chuckle.

You eventually let go of your university friend as you briefly catch up with the rest of the task force; smiles gracing across everyones features as you feel the most relaxed you had been in hours.

From conversations on spouses, funny recent mission accidents to rat infestations in cramped London apartments and taboo sharpie tattoos; a pair of arms is soon felt wrapping around your waist as you clench the papers in your hand protectively; awaiting the intruders next move.

Your eyes following the task forces tight eyes at whomever is attacking you, yet you relax at the familiar southern charm filling your ear as you hum in mixed joy and relief.

Funny seeing a little gentleman/lady like you out here. Catching up with old friends, beautiful?

You giggle and nod in reply and you feel his hands gently release the vice grip you have over the files as he kisses a thank-you to your forehead before holding the small of your back and addressing the task force in a serious demeanour; walking you all towards the main building.

╰┈➤ A/N: thank you for all the support on this post, more to come :)

A Shadow Company Visit Series (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) you are here

215 notes · View notes

fauustic · 11 months

Text

the fear of losing this

too many people in my inbox got a little too comfortable asking me for “a fight between reader” as well as “miguel angst please” so i am combining both as i struggle to get through this writer’s block ))

gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

angst. little comfort. your universe is falling apart, yet miguel doesn’t want to let you go.

warnings: pure angst. light cursing? i’m not too sure, just lots of tears.

word count: 2211

The night sky of Nueva York shined brightly with the bustle of commute, highly advanced cars whirring softly through the clouds. Your mask hung from your hands at your side, bunched up in the anger that fizzed and popped in your bloodstream– threatening to explode at any given moment as Miguel brushed off your conversation with a stoic chill.

“You don’t understand how important this is to me Miguel–” your voice raised as you paced the highest level of the building, padding against the overly complex structures that mimicked webs. You would have laughed at the irony of having a headquarters so invested in the theme of spiders that even the ground you walk on replicated the symmetry of webs if the both of you were in any other given situation– but that joking persona that came with the gig flew and crashed out the window the moment Miguel brushed off and rejected your plans to return back home. “I need to be there, helping my people. What is the point of me taking up a spot in this ‘fateful–’” You dragged out the words, venom dripping from your tongue as you partially made fun of the organization he spent so much time on. “Spider Society if my own boss doesn’t let me return back to the place I belong in?”

“No, no.” His tone was blunt as he stood as rigid as ever; surveying your every move in a way that you could never guess what he was thinking, with or without the mask. “You don’t understand.” Miguel repeated your own words back to you in a taunt as one of his clawed hands fidgeted with the device that decided whether or not you could walk around or stay in a little bubble for the next week just like all the other prisoners were down below. “You created a problem in your own universe, that’s the problem we’re having here. You cannot fix it.” He practically spat his words, anger emitting from every rhythmic clang whenever he tossed the technology into the air and caught it with calculation. “It doesn’t matter whether or not you’re from that Earth, you put that place you so valiantly ‘protect’ into a state of emergency. Is that not clear enough?”

“Oh, sure– but the hundreds of other spider-people that can’t go one word without making a joke of the situation can fix my mess? Am I just some inexperienced rookie to you, Miguel?” You countered, ripping your gaze from his own. His features were exposed to you as his mask was off as well, the sunken circles beneath his eyes growing prominent when a vibrant car passed by and shone a striking yellow light into the corridor the two of you stood within. His usual expression made of stone chipped away with the stress he was under as a deeper frown made its way onto his lips.

Miguel sighed dramatically before pinching the bridge of his nose, turning away from you to mumble a jumble of incoherency. “God,” He repeats your name like it's a curse, “That’s not what I’m saying at all. It’s just not safe.”

You scoffed, eyes growing wide at the audacity of this man you have to call your boss. “Of course it’s not safe Miguel, that’s our job.” You couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief, pulling at the roots of your hair in any attempt to calm yourself down. “I risked my life every single day in my universe before I even knew of your existence, yet now suddenly I can’t?”

“This is different. For some reason these– these anomalies are running rampant in your world and it’s taking everything to finally have the problem at hand contained.” Miguel held his breath as if he had something more to say, but left it unsaid the moment you stomped closer towards him in a new fit of anger.

You shoved your palm against his chest, baring your teeth as a groan erupted from the back of your throat in a concoction of frustration and despair. “Exactly! That’s exactly the problem, Miguel. My people out there are suffering and fighting for their lives, surrounded by these people that are like me but aren’t me.” Tears began to well up in the corners of your pained gaze, humiliation washing over your consciousness as you sniffled and stifled a sob. Fauxe confidence and quips were something you specialized in, annoying Miguel in a little dynamic the two of you found yourself in as months turned into an entire year of being called in for missions. Emotions were never a thing the both of you have ever discussed with one another because it wasn’t your position to pry and he was never the one to initiate such conversation.

“If you just let me go, I’m more than willing to show you how capable I am.” It came out as a whisper as you turned away from him and began padding down the structural webs. Miguel was on high alert, you could notice as every glance felt as if he was trying to convince himself that no other member of his society occupied this part of Headquarters. He followed you close behind, claws digging into the beams of construction to reach the same floor as you without a word. The brooding silence that usually met your company could be sensed from any person in their right mind, and as you spotted the hesitation in each thud of his footfalls– confusion clouded your anger. So in a flurry of adrenaline, you webbed his next step to the ground with a ball of the substance you artificially produced in the depths of your makeshift and cozy lab, hidden away at your home in the world you desperately needed to save. It would give you time to finally just talk to him.

“¿Eres estúpido o qué? Do that again and I’m putting you in the–”

It wasn’t to hold him down, you know you couldn’t match his strength. It was to make a statement.

You interrupted him, a newfound determination holding onto the little hope you had. “You follow me for one more second, I’m going through that portal and never looking back.” Brutally honest and uncharacteristically serious, the attempt at ripping his limb free was cut cold at the promise looming in the air. His frown fell for just a moment’s notice, mouth agape in shocked horror before quickly recovering himself. Repeating yourself more clearly as his attention was occupied, your body shined away while shaky fingers struggled to input the coordinates of your universe. But eventually it clicked, the AI voice of Miguel’s beloved Lyla sounded throughout the tension in a glitchy mess– notifying Miguel of the portal to-be seconds before it truly distorted the fabrication of reality in front of you.

Miguel dropped to his knees, struggling to claw off the web that had his foot planted to the structure. His breath quickened concerningly, shoulders heaving as the plan of his crumbled in front of him in an instant; all because he was not observant enough. You played him like an instrument like you always had, a pained groan from the back of his throat sounded and echoed throughout the space of the vast headquarters. “No, no, no..” He repeated, mirroring the despair you had on your features moments ago at the idea of not being able to save your people. You could never once recollect a fraction of a second where he allowed himself to convey the pain plaguing his mind, and as he reached out to you in a frantic heap of limbs– the walls of protection he hazardously built around himself came crumbling down by each shape contorting and twisting into a gateway to your world. “I can’t, I can’t lose anybody else–”

You stood there, heart breaking as the man who has had villains three times your size on their knees, collapse into fragments of himself at the mere idea of you leaving the security of his universe. Bursts of color painted the dark hues blotching upon white, igniting his fresh-tear stained cheeks in splashes of reds and yellows and greens. The portal was completely open, awaiting your entrance to return back to your familiarity– yet your senses buzzed alarmingly at each step away from Miguel. It’s almost as if you could feel the hole in his chest, searing away his soul he finally allowed himself to offer like a god’s offering.

You fell to your knees to hold his face in your suited hands, the waves of sorrow and grief infesting your mind like a sickness almost had you doubling over in pain. You could hear the cries of hundreds around his, no– your own heavy breathing, a confused and fearful little girl’s pleas for help overlapping the muddled screams. You felt the weight of a child in your hands before it was ripped away like a paper airplane in the wind, and soon your trembling hands met the purchase of his nape. Your body moved automatically, holding his face in the comfort of your lap while you shielded his gaze from the portal. Despite his power, the capability to snap you in two, you held him like a fragile doll that would break within any mishap.

“All this time, you never told me.” You sobbed into his hair, dampening his combed back curls with your tears and he only held your waist like you were the anchor in this unforgiving ocean of anguish. You have become one, the memories of his own mixing into the blur of yours's.

“I didn’t know how to.” He murmured into the purchase of your thigh, wetness seeping into your suit. But you didn’t care as your hands wandered all over his figure: a soft massage to the shoulders before quickly scooping his neck into your arms before finally settling on petting his hair back. “I, I haven’t allowed you to go to your world because a part of my thoughts can imagine your arms fading into a technicolor mess, falling into the clutches of another failed universe.” He forced himself to take a deep breath, gulping up air as the portal behind the both of you fizzled and popped.

“I can’t lose you too. I’d be so–” He hesitated, breathing in deeply just to choke on a sob. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.” He poured out the burdens weighing on his conscience, confirming your long-forgotten wonder that he was just as emotional when he was faced with his grief head-on; the same intensity seen in his short-tempered anger.

You simply hushed him, cooing reassurance that he accepted with greed. “Nothing is going to happen to me.” The rational fear being expressed aloud made your shoulders shake and head buzz with anxiety, but you steeled yourself at the reminder of Miguel melting into your tearful embrace like putty. You needed to be strong for him when he wasn’t, just like how he pushed himself to the greatest extent his body can endure all the times before.

“It’s just, I can’t lose where I come from.” You worked at ridding his foot from your webs as your serene tone accompanied his sniffles, his breathing settling out bit by bit as you continued to finally explain yourself. In regards to Miguel's quietness, you genuinely thought he was listening. “You can’t keep me away and shield me from my own mistakes, O’Hara. It’s just not possible, I need a home to thrive and protect. Without my people, I’m going to disappear as well.” A snap of your webs trapping his limbs finished your little speech, indicating that time was up and you had a job to do.

“I’m.. worried.” He mumbles aloud, like the sentence itself was foreign on his tongue. “These creatures from foreign worlds, they are drawn to your universe as if there’s a pulling force. I haven’t been able to figure it out. It’s so infuriating, it’s like I can’t do–”

You intercept his little tangent as you grab his chin and lift his gaze to meet yours’, an unsaid question hanging into the atmosphere like an old letter to a former self. Do you want this? Is this okay? I’m scared of messing this up.

The question is answered as Miguel’s grasp finds purchase in your flesh, claws digging into your thighs like if he let you go you’d fade along with everything else of his. In a messy, salty clash of teeth against fangs and tongue against lips, Miguel lapped up every inch of your mouth like he had to memorize every crevice of your entire being. It’s as if the two of you have synchronized, being able to suspect slight changes in each other’s mood as he grew more needy with the introduction of desire bubbling against the forefront of your mind.

“We can do this.” You murmured into his cheek, hands dancing over his suit in case this was the last time you’d ever be blessed with his presence again.

Miguel nodded, heaving for breath before he snatched one last kiss– sincere and genuine and full of unfiltered affection. “Yeah,” His nose met the crook of your neck, grazing each curve it stumbled upon.

“Together, mi alma.”

461 notes · View notes

matan4il · 2 months

Text

Daily update post:

On Friday, there was yet another Palestinian terrorist attack. Terrorists started shooting at Israelis near a yeshiva, and as security forces gave chase, an explosive device was set off through remote control, which shows just how sophisticated some of these terrorists are getting. Seven Israeli soldiers were injured. The explosives were homemade, and I heard one estimate that if they had been "proper," the number of casualties would have been much higher.

Friday was also International Women's Day, when we asked people to remember Israeli and Jewish women, including the ones still being abused by terrorists in captivity. Here's a small round up of a few related global events... In South Africa, Jewish women marched, asking their president and government to condemn Hamas' sexual violence, protesting against the extra burden of proof demanded of Jewish women. Similar protests were held in other places around the world, among them in front of the UN headquarters in NYC. Following an Israeli request, the US, the UK and France have asked the UN's security council to have an emergency session on the UN report regarding Hamas' sexual crimes, Israel's Foreign Minister and the families of the hostages are meant to attend. But maybe the most poignant news come from the Norwegian capital of Oslo, where protesters holding up signs in support of the Israeli women held hostage by Hamas were barred from participating in the International Women's Day March by its organizers, after other participants of the march were physically stopping the group supporting the kidnapped Israeli women.

Biden's recent MSNBC interview, where he's said that "there has to be another way to deal with the trauma caused by Hamas," has managed to piss off even left wing journalists here. I'm gonna pass along what one said... Biden doesn't get it. We're not fighting in Gaza to deal with trauma, this is not the equivalent of going to therapy. We're facing a terrorist organization that massacred us, rules an entire strip of land, and has turned it into the world's biggest base for terrorist activity, turned its 2.1 million people population into a human weapon, and if there is another way to make sure Israeli civilians are safe by destroying Hamas, with less casualties on the other side, let him present it in practical matters. So far, all he does is to give the vague, abstract, "Israel needs to do better," which is not a practical plan of action, and it's especially condescending, when we don't actually have historical examples of any country doing better during fights conducted under the conditions created by Hamas in Gaza.

I have written about the incident in northern Gaza, where over 100 people were killed in a stampede, as they were storming humanitarian aid trucks. It was a complex situation, in addition to those who died from the pushing and trampling (something we've seen in lots of tragic disasters around the world, which were by no means a massacre, such as a fairly well known stampede of Liverpool soccer fans), apparently some of those who died, were ran over when the (Arab) truck drivers were scared and tried to drive away from the mob, while a small number of suspicious people advanced menancingly on the soldiers. An IDF investigation report confirms the Israeli soldiers only fired at this smaller group, suspected of being terrorists, not at anyone else, and certainly not at the aid convoy itself. Of course none of this complexity was reflected in any anti-Israel propaganda posts, which labeled this a massacre. But now the size of the stampede has been confirmed as well, which in itself says a lot about this tragic chain of events: no less than 12,000 (!) Gazans were storming those aid trucks. Given the size of that crowd, it's almost a miracle that not more people were killed. Just compare the Liverpool fans stampede, where the size of the involved crowd was smaller, the situation less complex (no moving trucks or terrorists around), and the number of fatalities was practically the same, at 97 people killed.

This has got to be one of the worst things I've heard since Oct 7 brought new focus to the antisemitism problem on American college campuses. One of the morally clearest voices against this Jew hate has been a Jewish Israeli professor at Columbia University, Shai Davidai. Now apparently the uni has started an investigation into him, instead of... IDK, learning from the criticism he has raised regarding their failure to address antisemitism. They sure are doing a great job, showing Jews they're listened to and cared about, and protecting Davidai's freedom of speech, that last line of defense that all the college presidents fell back on when they had to address why calling for the genocide of Jews is not considered bullying or harassment on their campuses.

youtube

This is 100 years old Yocheved Gold (on the left, obviously).

Yocheved was born in 1923 in Germany. In 1936, as a Jewish teenager who was mistaken for a Christian girl, and despite her fear, she refused to hand a bouquet of flowers to Hitler at the Berlin Olympics. Two years later, at the age of 15, she was among the last Jews to flee Europe before WWII. She managed to make it to the Land of Israel, which saved her life. On Oct 7, she was in kibbutz Sa'ad, one of the southern Israeli communities attacked by Hamas terrorists. Eighty years after antisemites first forced her to flee her home, she had to do it again, and is maybe the only Israeli evacuee to be over 100 years old. Now she has returned to kibbutz Sa'ad, even though most still haven't (as they don't feel safe from Hamas), because she said she doesn't want to die away from home.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #israelunderattack

100 notes · View notes

wanderingxiao · 1 year

Text

-My Goddess-

NSFW, 18+ only Plz~

SPOILERS FOR SUMERU’S ARCHON QUEST BEWARE

Summary: Scaramouche brings you to Sumeru to have you witness his birth as a god, but he didn't plan for your reaction...

Pairing: Fatui! Scaramouche x Female Reader

Warning: Spoilers for Akasha Pulses Archon quest, foul language, god complex Scara, unprotected sex, Scara is nice but mean, degradation, creampie, and little bit of angst and fluff.

Word Count: 5.6K (How tf did this get so long)

Enjoy~

“Look at them, (Y/N)! All those tiny insects… building my chamber where I shall rule over them.” The silver blade that was normally referred to as the balladeer’s tongue was ever so gentle and caring as he gazed upon the contexts of the scholar’s creation. His pale skin shined underneath all the lights, arms outstretched marveling at the glorious creation. The mechanized machine loomed over you both, your place next to the Balladeer forever being cast out by his own shadow. He was an incredibly selfish individual. His goals were never to bring you with him in his accession into godhood. A small pawn on his chess board to dispose of. “Isn’t it magnificent? Everyone, is preparing for my birth into this world, as a god!” His tongue dripped with venomous anticipation, poisoning you to praise him, worship him, and bow before his feet like the underling you now realized you were. “Are you going to stare gawking or are you going to congratulate me on finally achieving godhood after centuries of careful planning?”

“I’m sorry, My Lord. Forgive me for my lack of words.” Your response clearly did not do much for his souring mood upon not receiving your praise. He turned his body towards you, the jingle of the bells on his hat chiming at his slow steps towards you. Your composure remained unchanged in the presence of The Balladeer, his cold expression having no effect on your heart. “Are you not happy that I am finally fulfilling my purpose for being created? I have my heart, and I will use my newfound strength… to rule over the insects of this world that grovel beneath me.” He stopped in front of you, dark lavender eyes gazing directly into your eyes that were unfortunately cast downwards. You knew he was looking, but you didn’t dare meet his gaze, remaining silent instead. This only seemed to anger The Balladeer more. “What’s troubling you? Is there something you dislike about the design? I will have it changed if that is what you want.”

“…What I want, Lord Scaramouche?” The tremble in your voice was evident, there was no hiding anymore exactly how you felt in that moment. The upcoming god could easily pick up on your changed emotions, suddenly becoming stricken with anxiety. “I… I want you back.” It was plain and simple as that. Your first meeting with The Balladeer was nothing short of fate. It was a cold day In Snezhnaya, your village near the Fatui headquarters always patrolled and watched closely. Remembering how the cold snow felt on your bare feet would forever be ingrained in your brain from that day, along with finding The Balladeer practically frozen near a river. He was welcomed into your home for 3 days, secluded due to the raging blizzard that always took the lives of any who dared challenge its icy wind laced touch. “You’re… You’re changing. You’re starting to leave me behind. You… replaced me already.”

“Huh?” His cold tone only fueled the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, still recalling his harsh yet gentle nature as he resided in your home. He voiced his displeasure almost every minute, but he made no effort to walk out and take his chances with the vengeful blizzard. You learned a lot about him during those 3 short days. How he enjoyed bitter tea and despised anything sweet you had to offer him for dessert. The immense sorrow that lingered in his empty chest as he gazed over the stuffed animal in the house. The way he would become engrossed in reading about blade forgery, almost as if he had known about the art for centuries. And lastly, how much the all-powerful Fatui Harbinger detested insects. “What nonsense are you going on about? When did I ever give you the impression, I was every going to let you escape?”

“Just look at what you’re doing, Lord Scaramouche… you’re… ascending far beyond my reach anymore. It’s not a matter of trying to escape from you… you’re just starting to abandon me.” His breath hitched once those words left your soft lips. Never in his life did he ever think you would be saying those words to him. It was anticipated to be the other way around, but the tables had turned now. “You… praise Ms. Haypasia more than you do me…” That wasn’t true. Not to him anyways. You and that other human were completely different. She was just a mere follower, disposable, you were supposed to be by his side forever. “Even the way you look at this thing-“ You turned your head to look up at the machine that hung above. “-as if it’s your everything now. Your time with me has shortened, and the attention you once gave me has dwindled into but a small insignificant grain of dust… The gnosis, this machine… it’s your heart… I wished for you to gaze at me like that… I wished for you to stay with me until the world takes me… I wanted to be your heart.”

“No… that’s- that’s absurd!” His voice wavered just slightly, hands reaching out to grasp your arms, holding you tightly in his grasps. “You… You-“ The words kept getting caught in his throat as he tried to voice his conflicting emotions. After a few seconds of pondering for the right words, the thought died within his throat, choosing to remain silent. “I wish you… all the best, Lord Scaramouche. I’ll never forget my time with you. You will be in my thoughts always… and I’ll worship you until the day I die… I love you.” His breath caught in his throat hearing those words pass from your lips so carelessly. Throwing that phase out to him as if you weren’t about to leave him alone. His body was stiff when you suddenly placed your hands onto his cheeks, the feeling of your warm hands stunning him further. Your face was so close to his, he could feel your nervous breaths, almost hear your heartbeat hammering away at your ribcage. Your lips were soft against his own, moving gently against him even though he showed no sign of returning your affections.

Once you were gone from his touch, the world came crashing.

“You can’t leave. I forbid it.” You only gave him a sad smile, moving your hands off his cheeks. The attempt was quickly stopped by the harbingers intense grip slamming down onto your wrists to stop you. “I didn’t give you permission to leave. You are not allowed to leave my side.” His head was lowered, making it impossible for you to gaze into his dark lavender eyes and gauge exactly what he was feeling at this moment. You had an idea of what it was just by the way his hands trembled while holding you. “Lord Scaramouche, I hope you know I’m not betraying you like the others.” The grip he had on you tightened, his shoulders now trembling, still unable to gauge his emotions. You knew of his history as a puppet, and as the almighty electro archons creation. “I’m letting you go to achieve your purpose you’ve longed for. I won’t keep you grounded any longer. You’ve been through so much; you deserve this opportunity- “

“Then come with me! Let us both ascend together into godhood! Become my goddess. Rule by my side and stay!” The hurt in his voice was now clearer than ever. He was deeply troubled by your decision. To think you would ever consider leaving him drove him mad. All because of your selfless intentions not to hold him back? How absurd! Ever since he began seeing you more and more, he knew he could never let you go. That first kiss sealed his fate with you years ago. “L-Lord Sc-“ He lunged his hand forward to grab your mouth tightly, suppressing any words from coming out as he spoke. “You will be my goddess, whether you like it or not. We will become equals. Do not address me in that way again, or I will have to punish you.” Nodding quickly, your shaky fingers attempted to pry his tight grip off your mouth, slightly taken aback by his sudden outburst. A dark chuckle echoed in your ears when his lips came close to your ear. “Good… now there’s something I must take in order to properly claim you as my goddess. Something… I’ve wanted to do with you for so long.”

Your heart skipped a beat as his lips moved in slow motion in front of you.

“Your body.”

The sounds of machines in the background suddenly become more and more fuzzy as his demand came crashing onto your mind like a dozen bricks. The thrashing of your heart against your ribcage became more violent the more you imagined becoming one with Scaramouche. The relationship between you remained pure and innocent for a long time. The only thing you had ever done with him was hug him or give him a kiss on the head here and there and on very rare occasions give him a real kiss. To excel to something as serious as that? It was all too much for you to handle. You loved him. As much as you didn’t want to in the beginning you couldn’t help but fall in love with the Fatui Harbinger. Through his harsh acts and mean words, all he had ever wanted was to be loved and wanted. His walls broke when you indulged in his buried human desires.

“Kissing won’t be enough for me anymore. Once I finish claiming you… you will permanently be mine, to rule by my side forever, never to part from me. Doesn’t that sound nice? Bound to your god through body and soul. Is that what you want? Will that make you happy?” His questions were making your head spin. He knew the answers to his own questions though, it was all a means to influence you further. You didn’t need to respond to tell him how much you longed to be by his side. “It was idiotic to think you could simply leave after all we’ve been through. Even if you wanted to without such a selfishly selfless reason such as that…” His voice trailed off, slowly letting go of your mouth and replacing his cold hand against your neck, squeezing lightly. “Listen close, I will not repeat this.” He called, leaning towards your ear. His breath was hot despite his body being frigid. You shifted in his grasp, swallowed thickly before he spoke. “I love you too.”

“S…Scaramouche?” Your voice was soft and almost like a faint whisper whisked about by the clattering noise around you. That was the first time he had ever admitted such feelings towards you. His cheeks were a soft pink, scowling at you and himself in disgust over his emotionally human confession. He didn’t give you another second to speak or breathe before he attached his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. In an instant, you melted into his touch, your shaky uncertain hands coming to rest against his cold cheeks, nimble fingers edging closer and closer to his indigo locks. His hair was incredibly soft, so perfect to run your fingers through and pull. His hands came to your waist, pulling your lower body against his. His tongue slipped, parting your lips to rub against your teeth, ordering you to open your mouth for him. You obeyed him, letting him completely consume you. “M-Mmm… Scara-Mph!”

One of his hands came to grab your hair, pulling your head back until he was holding you against him, leaning you back to appropriately dominate you. Your arms wrapped around his neck quickly, scared of falling but knew he would never let you go. His tongue darted inside your mouth, swirling around your mouth in needy passion. His teeth clanked against yours as he pushed himself deeper, his tongue reaching the deepest parts of your mouth. Precious oxygen was beginning to become necessary, but you didn’t want to pull away from his blissful and loving touches. A low groan echoed into your mouth being swallowed by your small gasp of air before he closed you off again with his lips. You could feel yourself beginning to get weak in your knees, slowly falling to the floor while Scaramouche kept you close to him. He parted from you finally, a string of saliva connecting your tongues until he licked it away and swiped his tongue over his lips.

“Already weak from one kiss? Hah, how pathetic you truly are. It’s a nuisance that you’re human, that’ll change in due time if you’re going to be my goddess.” You didn’t understand what he had meant by those words, but you did know that your remaining strength dropped once he gazed into your eyes with a powerful, dominating lust. God were his eyes just hypnotizing. His gaze followed to all the workers in the large area, irking him further as he realized he had been too distracted by you. “Hey! All you pests! Get out!” His voice was booming and loud, his tone laced with toxic authority that should not be dared challenged. The workers all looked confused and exchanged glances, further angering the ascending god. “Are you all deaf? I said, get the fuck out!” The workers scurried away in fear, leaving all their tools, and exiting the area. He turned back towards you, his lips curling into a sadistic smirk. “Come, my goddess.”

“Y…Yes, Scaramouche.” You shakily rose, clambering into his arms as he drug you up into the chamber of the machines head. It was sparkling red, its contents almost like you were floating into space. He swished his hand out, the machine face closing behind you, trapping you inside with the godly creation of an archon. As soon as those doors were closed, his lips were on yours again, this time more desperate and needy. His hands were trailing up and down your body, exploring his inexperienced hands over every curve and crevice that your body hid. A sigh left his lips into your mouth, groaning at the feeling of how soft and smooth your breasts were. “Tsk. Childe is always chattering about how pleasant these feel… damn idiot was right about one thing for once.”

His hands continued to knead and squeeze your breasts, getting rougher each second hearing your soft sighs of pleasure. “Yeah? You like that don’t you? So filthy.” His lips curled and arched into a grin, his perfect teeth showing just how amused he was at how much you were loving his touch. It gave him a confidence boost. Truth be told he’d never done anything like this either, only read about from human books or got lectured about it from Childe or La Signora. “Yes, Scaramouche… it… it feels good.” He gave a raspy laugh, narrowing his eyes as you tilted your head to the side, eyes closing as you could only focus solely on the way his hands kneaded you. He took this invitation and leaned forward, his hot breath fanning over your delicate skin before sinking his teeth into you. He pushed you back against one of the walls, one hand slamming against it while his other continued to squeeze and grope. “Mmm! Wait-! Ngh…”

“No one gave you permission to talk back to your god. So hush, and be a good girl for me. Even your fragile body can do so much as that can’t it?” His voice was low and husky, his tongue slowly moving over the indentions in your flesh made by his teeth. A shiver slipped through your spine at the cool feeling of his salvia colliding with the cool air, your back arching into his greedy hands. Both his hands came and started to tear at your shirt, the sound of fabric ripping echoing in your ears that made your heart rate increase. He fumbled with the clothing that didn’t come off right away and yanked it off you, tugging and pushing your body to and from him. Once your shirt was completely off, he started to wander his eyes up and down your body, his cheeks a soft pink as his virgin eyes soaked in every bit of your untouched, pure skin. “Wow… if I had known that your body was this beautiful, I would’ve taken you for myself a long time ago. Haha, not as if I would let you go to begin with.”

“S-Scara… s-stop staring please, it’s embarrassing…” Your head turned to the side, squeezing your eyes closed trying not to focus on his hard gaze over your half-naked form. A low growl rumbled through his chest, his hands grabbing ahold of your waist tightly and leaning forward to aggressively kiss and bite your neck. “There you go again, ordering me around. Must I put you in your place the hard way?” He took a firm step forward, trapping you completely against his chest and the wall. You could only pant in response, whimpering in embarrassment as you urged your hands not to cover yourself. His head craned down, his eyes now intently staring at the gorgeous sight of your cleavage, fleshly mounds almost falling out of your bra from how they were pushed against his chest. “Let’s take this off and see the real thing, shall we?”

“O-Okay…” You pushed forward a bit, leaning into Scaramouche while his cool fingers traced up your back to find the clasps of your bra. His nimble fingers fumbled slightly, cursing under his breath trying to get the damn thing unclasped. Once he finally got the clasp undone, he pulled the back forwards, the straps adorning your shoulders becoming loose. “Shaking already? I’ve barely touched you yet.” You hadn’t even realized you were shaking until he made it known to your flushed ears. You were incredibly nervous. “There’s no need to worry so much, my dear goddess.” His hands wandered up your arms, lightly grasping the straps before pulling them down and letting your bra drop to the floor. Your hands twitched harshly upon feeling bare in front of him, the urge to cover up becoming increasingly more prominent. “Your god will take real good care of you. I’ll make sure you feel the best you ever have in your entire pathetic mortal life.”

“Y…Yes, sir.” You opened your eyes slowly, cheeks instantly flushing realizing he was staring intently at you. The deep pits of his irises lulled you in to fall deeper into the endless hole of desire and love. His eyes lowered to your bare chest, his own smooth cheeks becoming pink in surprise and embarrassment. He was starstruck. The beautiful curves and swells of your breasts were mesmerizing to him, and let’s not skip over the fact your nipples were cute and erected for him. He tested the waters of this new experience, pinching your nipple between his index and thumb, awaiting your response. A whimper fell upon his mechanical ears, his body urging him to do more for you. His fingers rolled the erect bud, causing your body to arch into his touch, a quiet moan resonating from your swollen lips. He groaned lowly at the noise. “Fuck… that’s hot. Give me more. Submit yourself to me, completely.”

His lustful actions continued, rolling and pinching your nipples while his eyes stared Intensely at your expressions, watching each and every twitch and wince of pleasure. He quickly found himself now addicted to making you feel good. Your sweet noises caused by his hands was such a turn on for him. Once he was done with your chest, he moved down to your hips, rubbing your hips soothingly before hooking his slender fingers around your panties and pants and pulled them down swiftly. A harsh shake shuddered through your body feeling more exposed before him. Of course, you’d never done anything like this before. It was all so embarrassing. For Scaramouche, it was all new and exciting. Seeing your voluptuous body on display for him, completely bare and vulnerable for him to pray on.

“You look so humiliating standing here, shaking before me. It looks as if your legs are about to give up on you.” He mused, lips curling into a sly and cocky smile watching you quiver beneath him. His dark lavender eyes trailed up and down your body, quietly admiring all your natural beauty. He couldn’t help but stare down at your nether regions, accented by tufts of swift curls. His hand came slowly, his slender fingers running over your upper thigh slowly. Your back arched in his cool touch, lip catching between your teeth trying not to cover up or run away from him. The thin digits of his hand slid across your thigh to run his finger down the middle of your folds, feeling the lewd slick that had started to gather and threaten to drip onto the floor. “It’s all wet and slippery down here. How lewd of you. Maybe I was wrong about you, maybe you are a dirty girl after all, hmm?”

“N-No… It’s… it’s because of you.” His eyes glimmered with lust hearing your confession, body involuntarily shuddering. He could feel a faint pulse in his shorts. It was at that moment he secretly thanked his creator for at least one damn thing. A dick to give you a nice, good fucking with (she really just wanted him to look as real as possible). The puppet grinned watching your shy eyes shift to meet his in a long and loving gaze, tainted with hints of lust. He leaned forward slowly not to startle you and captured your lips in an oddly soft and passionate kiss. Your body instinctively relaxed upon feeling his embrace, allowing him to slip his fingers up and inside. Your back arched into him, suddenly becoming tense and breaking the passionate kiss your lover initiated. “Ngh… f-feels weird, Scara…”

“Y-Yeah, it’s fucking tight.” His once confident voice was wavering as his finger was clenched tight by your hot gummy walls. The puppet experimented with his finger as he moved it around, feeling your cunt’s curvy walls and tight squeeze. “S-Scaramouche… Hmm.” He watched your expression closely before he added a second finger. You gave a pitiful cry of discomfort upon his second finger being added. His body shuddered, hips bucking forwards desperate to feel something, it was beginning to get painful. He used his non occupied hand and shyly placed your hand against the bulge poking out from under the metal plate that guarded his hips. The ascending god shuddered in ecstasy upon the light contact, a low growl emanating from his chest. “Touch me.” It wasn’t a request; it was an order.

“Mmm, Scara, I-it’s so… so hard.” A quiet mewl left your lips when your hand hesitantly started to rub and squeeze against the tip of his cock. Scaramouche moaned lowly against your face, a flurry of curses leaving his lips once you got more confident with him. If you were to get confident with him why not he do the same? He started thrusting his fingers into your core, his slender digits reaching deeper and deeper with every movement. You both were moaning into each other’s face, your hot breaths adding fuel to the already out of control fire of desire. “Fuck I need this. I need you.” Your lover pulled his fingers out, admiring the lewd fluid on his digits. You gasped once his fingers left, your cunt squeezing at nothing, disappointed at the loss of his fingers. A harsh clank echoed in the red sparkling space around you as Scaramouche removed the metal plate adorning his hips. “Strip me. Use your pretty shaking fingers and take off everything.”

His word was law. You began running your fingers over his chest, carefully removing the electro symbol that usually gleamed in the light against his chest. You stripped him carefully until all that was left was his shorts. The bulge was clearly now present, showing you just how big it was. His skin was so smooth without blemish or scar or scrape. His complexion was utterly perfect. He was crafted for godly hood after all. “Well? Go on. Take ‘em off. I did tell you everything didn’t I? Or is your head to far in the clouds to even comprehend your god’s order?” You shook your head before you carefully slid down the shorts that adorning Scaramouche’s thin hips. The harsh thumping of your heart echoed within your ears meeting his erect member, standing tall and proud. Your eyes shifted up to him, blushing more seeing how red his face was too. “Scara-“

“Shut up and turn around.” He roughly turned you around and grabbed your hips, pulling your ass back against his hard erection. A surprised gasp flew from your mouth feeling the touch of his length against you. His hands wandered up your back to carefully grab your hair, pulling your head back to place kisses against your shoulder and neck. “Are you ready for the main event? To become my goddess and rule by my side? Tell me.” He pulled a little harder, his voice attempting to sound dominant and hungry but only coming out as desperate and a bit nervous. A faint affirmation left your tongue, leaving the godly puppet to hastily locate your entrance with the tip of his engorged cock. “Good girl.” The tenderness of his lip caught between his teeth once he found it, slowly pushing it in before looking up to watch your reactions.

A wince escaped onto your expression, the stretch of his length in your inexperienced hole becoming overwhelming. His eyes continued to watch you closely, his grip on your hair loosening when he dropped his hand down to your hip. He could see the way your jaw clenched, the way your eyes scrunched, and it sent a flurry of panicked thoughts through his mind. He never intended to hurt you. He had heard this was supposed to be a pleasurable act, something that would deepen your relationship and make it nearly impossible for you to leave. Even though the puppet had lived through centuries, he was still a bit naive. His hips halted, hands lightly caressing you in fear that you might pull away from him.

“Hey… If you’re in pain say so. Don’t be a stubborn brat.” You shook your head and turned to gaze lovingly into his eyes with a smile. His face bloomed in a light shade of red. “P-Please continue, Scaramouche. I want you too.” He gave you a glare, tender lips turning into a deep frown out of embarrassment of your actions. He leaned forward to kiss you again, his body urging him to seal his lustful acts with a loving kiss to solidify your bond to him. He pushed his hips up until his groin was flush against the plushness of your butt. A whine of pain came to his ears, only pushing him to please you more with his lips. The tight squeeze of your velvety walls had his mind clouded in ecstasy. The temptation to begin bucking his hips into you at a ruthless pace becoming all the more irresistible. “Scara-“

“I know. Shut up and keep kissing me.” Your lips came back to his, your mouth open to allow his tongue to mark and claim you once more. You could feel him slowly pulling his length out, making you feel empty inside before he suddenly thrust his hips back inside. A quiet cry of pain fused with pleasure echoed from your throat, your lover grunting in response to the tight squeeze around his length. Your fragile mind couldn’t choose what it wanted to focus on. The way Scaramouche’s tongue easily pulls you into him or the possessive way he begins to buck his hips to push his cock to the deepest parts of your pussy. It was all so overwhelming you couldn’t help but mindlessly moan and sigh at each thrust of his hips and flick of his tongue.

“That’s it, hah, good girl.” The praise of your god sent goosebumps down your spine, the urge to gaze into eyes while he claims you urging you to attempt to turn around. He stops you quickly and pushes your shoulder harshly to keep your face away from seeing him. “Stop moving and -ngh- just enjoy what I’m giving you, hah.” Truth was he didn’t want you to see what kind of expression he was making. His brows were furrowed, cheeks a lovely shade of pink with heavy pants coming from his swollen lips. He himself was beginning to get lost in the tender squeeze of your cunt around his cock. He had never experienced something that felt so good, he would definitely find himself getting addicted to this feeling. “P-Please -mm!- wanna see you, Scara.”

“Tsk! Fine, if it’ll stop your whining.” Before you knew it, an empty feeling engulfed you before you were spun around and shoved up against the wall by your lover. He lips met yours harshly before he sheathed himself back inside, almost knocking the air out of you at the sudden action. He ruthlessly thrust his hips against yours, lewd noises coming from below you as your sexes collided again and again. A musky smell enveloped the small space of the crimson galaxy that surrounded. The sound of your sweet moans filled the former Fatui Harbinger’s ears, spurring him to become rougher and more possessive in his actions of love making. The feeling of the mushy head of his cock kissing the entrance of your cervix sent you spiraling into the depths of lust.

“Feels good, Scara, ahhh, feels so good.” Your lover’s indigo hair brushed over your forehead as he pressed against you, his deep lavender eyes burning holes into your soul from his heated, obsessive gaze. Scaramouche sighed in bliss against your face, his indigos brows furrowing while he continued to quicken his pace. “Fuck, it feels fucking ama- ngh!- amazing! You like it don’t you? Shit… like when your god makes you good like this? Yeah? Huh? Hah, hah, answer me!” Lust dripped off every word of his sharp tongue. You could only cry a feeble ‘yes’ with a meek call of his name. The lewdly wet sounds of his hips snapping against yours increased, your walls becoming tighter around his pulsing cock. “S-Scara! Hmm! Wait! Something- Somethings coming! P-Pull out!”

“Come undone for me. Ngh, yes, yes- damnit!” His thrusts began to become sloppy and mismanaged, hot and heavy pants coming out of your sexy lover. Your hands raked down his back, clawing at his skin for something to cling onto while a tight feeling began to build in your lower abdomen. Scaramouche’s hands pressed your hips against the wall, ramming his cock as deep as he could, holding you in place. His face buried into your neck, moaning uncontrollably as he neared his sweet release. “Scara, Scaramouche, p-please! Hmm!! Can’t hold it! It’s co- Ahh!” Your warning for him was cut off by a loud moan as you felt the previous buildup of pleasure snap in your abdomen. Scaramouche felt your walls tighten around him and your climax splattering onto his groin.

“Fuck!” His head fell to your chest, letting out a loud moan before giving one firm and harsh thrust inside before he could feel his length twitching, releasing all his sticky seed inside you, overflowing to the point it started to come out of your connected sexes. You both were panting heavily, holding each other tightly as you attempted to calm down from the immense emotions and feelings you both had undergone. A wave of drowsiness washed over your form, your legs numb and heavy, eyelids becoming droopy. “S-…Scara?” The god lifted his head to gaze at your tired expression. A quiet huff slipped through his nostrils as he carefully pulled out of you, a mixture of your sinful fluids splattering to the floor. You let out a soft whine at the empty yet full feeling down there. Scaramouche held you tight, supporting you and your weak state to sit against the floor, pulling some of your clothes over to cover you up. “Tsk… look how weak you’ve become after just one round. We’ll have to change that.”

“You’ve… done this before?” The pure look of disgust on his face let you know that that was not the case. He gave you a soft glare, flicking your head at your stupid accusation. “Are you stupid? No. Reading and having to babysit Childe and listen to his bratty bantering taught me more than I cared to know… but I guess it came useful after all.” You gave a sleepy smile and a small laugh, laying your head into his chest. You felt safe in his arms. Out of all the horrible things Scaramouche has done, you knew deep down that he would never even imagine hurting you. He would always protect you. “Sorry… and I’m sorry about the things I said… I just… want what is best for you, Scaramouche. You truly do deserve the best.” There was a comfortable silence that followed your apology, your lover contemplating how he should respond.

“…you really are stupid, you know that?” He gave a frustrated and annoyed sigh and pulled you closer to his thin frame, embracing you with a flustered blush on his cheeks. A soft hum came from your place on his chest, your body slowly succumbing to your drowsiness, but not before you proclaimed your love one last time. “Thank you… Scara. I love… you…” Once Scaramouche could hear your soft breathing and faint snoring, he gave a quiet sigh and lifted his gaze up to the crimson galaxy of the mechanical mask you both were confined in. He felt like his chest was about to burst open, body on fire, lips twitching uncontrollably as he held back a gentle smile, something he wished to show you. One day… when the entire world is at his feet, and the people of Teyvat worshipped only him, he would show you that gentle side of himself. When he knew it was safe.

“I… love you too, stupid idiot.”

“Are you deaf, or just stupid?”

-Scaramouche

#scaramouche x reader #scara smut #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x you #fatui harbingers #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #the balladeer

759 notes · View notes

anystalker707 · 1 year

Text

Admiral, my Admiral

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x [gender neutral] Admiral! Reader Words: ~ 2 500 Summary: An unusual relationship that starts with a deal. Tags: no talk to him (ace) he angy / he gets to be babied tho / um, there's angst if you don't mind

MASTERLIST

• Ace could remember passing out during a fight. His division wasn’t able to defeat the marine because they happened to run into a fucking strong division

• He tried his best to fight, but he just ended up getting weak when the spear of Sea-prism stone touched his chest and there was nothing else he could do, not even burn the ship so he would die uncaught, in the bottom of the sea; the last thing he could see was the fucking admiral walking towards him before he passed out. Where did the admiral come from, anyways?

• He woke up in a room he didn’t recognize, but could feel the familiar movement of the sea under him, so he was a little relieved he hadn’t been taken anywhere on land. Or maybe it was actually worse, if he thought well

• The whole place was too... patterned. Minimalist. It seems like a guest room and, when he leaves the room, the place keeps the same dark gray, white and blue colors. He keeps going until seeing a sign with the Marine symbol on it makes him shout and try to start lighting everything on fire until he notices the anklet on his leg and it is made out of that goddamned stone

• It is stupid, but he still jumps on you in an attempt to kill you with his bare fists at the moment he finds you at the desk only to be sent flying into the sea with a kick and rescued by your subordinates

• Ace is so full of anger, so small compared to you as he stands on the deck and stares at you—if only looks could kill...—while you don’t even bother to order him to be chained or anything. He feels like he will combust when you look at him and have the audacity to grin

• Your subordinates seem to know something that Ace doesn’t, but none of them pipe a word about it, all of them always talking the minimum possible with him and ignoring his comments whenever they get him food. He almost feels like when he was taken in by Whitebeard all over again, but this time, the feeling isn’t exactly welcoming because the only one being nice to him there is the fucking admiral, even if you can get on his nerves with your sarcasm and superiority complex. That is living hell

• At first, he thinks you will execute him—doesn’t happen. Then, you’re probably taking him to some headquarters to make him prisoner or something—also wrong. He tries to bribe one of your subordinates into telling him, but it never happens; not like he has anything that may interest them

• All he needs to stop fussing around so much is a letter from Garp telling him to trust you; not really the most convincing thing, but surely does leave a thought in the back of Ace’s head

• If you don’t kill him and have a goal, then the logic is simple; you need Ace alive, so you won’t kill him even if he’s the most insufferable fucker in the whole world

• Spending a few weeks on your ship does make Ace soften, though. He ends up finding himself in late night talks with you on the deck because, as much as he doesn’t want to chat, your sweet talk does keep him going. Not to mention the way he finds comfort in you, somehow

• Ace softening up doesn’t mean peace. His way of showing he is more comfortable around you resolves itself around Ace suddenly falling asleep in the most inconvenient spaces and following you around while making the most annoying comments. It doesn’t matter that you’re an Admiral and the power you have—he will get on your nerves because that’s just how he is, even more knowing he won’t get killed no matter how much he annoys one of the strongest, best known marines and warriors out there

• “What’re you doing?” “...Paperwork.” “Well, that I can see. What’s it about, though? Can I see the files about me? You better have everything right. I’m sure my bounty would be higher if you knew everything I’ve done!” “Why don’t you go take a nap or something? Leave me alone, fire boy.” “You’re so annoying! I can’t even—” You look up from your papers and he is... sleeping again. Okay.

• “You must be receiving a great amount to be taking care of me.” “Oh, I wish I were...”

• The relationship between you two turns into something like; Ace: Yo, I’ve broken about 20 important things, almost sank your ship again and made one of your subordinates almost give up on being a Marine You: I know this and I love you

• Ace is a little suspicious if you really have any real destiny—you’re sailing without stopping at any island for longer than a couple of days and never going to any of the headquarters. Are you going against the rules and acting in secret? Really??? For real??? Damn it, someone for once should tell Ace a word about what’s going on. Not only would half of his doubts go away, but also something interesting would happen in that godforsaken ship before he went crazy

• Although, watching the admiral is quite interesting. Well, the admiral is quite interesting...

• He grows quiet for a while, spending some days processing how you are always checking on him every morning and every night before he goes to sleep, sometimes bringing you food in person and spending some of your time with him

• Why do you want to know if he is emotionally okay and has everything he needs? It's almost like you care

• Then there are those long, uncomfortable silences in which he doesn't know what to do because, maybe unintentionally, those little comments of yours and light smirks have his face turning bright red and something stirring inside his chest

• How did he even allow the admiral to get into his head like that? He can't let it continue this way, though

“(Y/n)!” Ace whined as he walked into your office and didn’t even care about what you were doing before he threw himself on your lap, holding onto your shoulders as he dramatically leaned back.

“Ace—”

“I am afraid I am about to die! Your ship is so, so boring and your subordinates never talk to me!” He closed his eyes, making a face as if he were under a lot of pain—or at least trying to—, with no regard for the documents he almost made you ruin. “Like, why can’t they give me the combination to the vault? Or let me mess with the sails? That’s no fun!”

You would’ve chuckled if Ace weren’t being so obnoxious, so you just leaned back on the chair and observed him; he pouted at the silence and sat up properly on your lap. He takes in a breath, but you never allow him to voice whatever it is.

“Look, I am throwing you in the sea if you continue like this!”

“As if!” Ace chuckles. “You can’t k...”

Oh, it can’t be. Still, the soft snoring that comes from Ace confirms your theory and you roll your eyes, bouncing your leg lightly.

“Oi! What do you think you are doing, Ace?” You finally let go of your pen and your papers, shaking Ace a little. “Get lost, fire boy! I already forbid you from interrupting me while I’m on my paperwork! Why don’t you go read the books I lent you, hm? Go sleep in your room, at least. In the kitchen. I don't care.”

“It’s no fun without you.” Ace groaned, and you couldn’t help but to smirk and raise an eyebrow; a red tone took over his cheeks. “I—I mean, you’re the one who—”

“The one who?” You nodded for him to continue, resting your cheek against your palm. “Go on.” Ace exhaled, pressing his lips together as he looked away, and the lack of answer made you chuckle while wrapping an arm around his torso. “Oh, you don’t know what to do now that you have my full attention? Just wasting my time? I gave you rules to stay on my ship, Ace.” Your fingers held onto his jaw so he would look at you. “And I—”

Lips pressed to yours interrupted your words. Ace’s lips. You couldn’t help but to kiss back because he kept pressing his lips to yours for a few seconds, dismissing your hesitance, and even daring to hum softly once you started to kiss him back.

None of you stop. It started a chain of kisses that was enough to make you forget about your paperwork, lost in kissing the lips of a filthy pirate that fell in your hands because of a deal. Both of you had this same feeling; the spark of knowing that this was wrong and forbidden was what ignited your feelings for each other. Ace’s lips tasted like the sea, like the sweets he was eating earlier, but also tasted like freedom. A little bit of power that you had over the Marine and the World Government because no matter what you did, you knew no one would agree to have you dismissed from the Marine and they couldn't control every single action of yours.

Your fingers hooked with the hair on the back of Ace’s head to pull him away from the kiss a little. “You are down bad,” you mumbled into his ear.

• Once, Ace hears you talking to Sengoku. He sees you in your office, back to the door and with a den den mushi in hand. Your voice is calm, but not the sort of calm like you are when you raise an eyebrow at Ace then shrug in dismissal before you tell him to do whatever he pleases, no; it is the type of calm when your subordinates do something you don’t like, so you suppress your annoyance to long glares and pursed lips

• “No...” You say to the snail, “I am busy. I won’t be there for the next meeting. You already know my position in this. It is the same as Garp’s. And you know I haven’t seen Fire First. I would’ve reported already. Has he disappeared or something? You haven’t heard a thing about him for weeks.”

• And he doesn’t listen anymore. He doesn’t want to. Either way, it is enough to change the context again, from “stop locking me here” to “thanks for keeping me safe”

• You don’t understand what’s up with Ace being softer around you, but it is well welcomed. There’s something sweet about how he places a chair next to your desk and folds his arms over the table with his head on them, quietly observing you work until he falls asleep

• Actually, one night, Ace knocks on your bedroom’s door. He just walks past you and collapses on the bed at the moment you open the door. And fuck. That boy’s audacity. Whatever. It’s nice to hold onto something while you sleep

• And the fact your subordinates will walk into you making out with Ace on your lap while you’re in your office and just ignore what is happening is just... Hell, you love it

• There’s a whole new routine with Ace by your side

• The moment Ace has to leave comes quicker than you expected. It’s already time for you to return to your usual admiral duties and also for Ace to go back to the sea because there’s no longer a threat

• He can’t believe that keeping him was a whole plan to keep him safe while you, Garp and a few others did your best to convince the Marine that Portgas D. Ace was not a threat, so he shouldn’t be executed

• Ace is at loss of words, unable to formulate a thanks that’s genuine enough and expresses all of his feelings because you only fucking let him know about it when you’re dropping him at an island where Whitebeard already awaits for him. He wants to cry, to hug you, to kiss you, to ramble about how thankful he is, all at the same time—but he can’t

• You chuckle at how lost he seems, grinning happily and telling him he can go because he is safe now

• Ace doesn’t leave without giving you a kiss, a deep one

• What seemed to be a short-term thing, ends up leaving your hearts aching for more once you’re away from each other, in the sea. It is risky, it is dangerous, difficult to manage, even, but you’re picking Ace up in a random island to spend the night with you whenever you are able to, with excuses to the marine that you ended up letting him escape because your priorities were others. Sometimes he will just show up randomly with that devilish smirk on his face

• As much as you’re an admiral, your little relationship does reach the Marine’s eyes and ears, and it doesn’t seem to help them in the slightest bit because you’re not only with one of their highest potential enemies; your behavior also encourages other pirates a little too much, as if it gives them some sort of excuse or extra freedom. You’d always been a little rebel considering the Marine and World Government’s rules, so maybe you’ll go a little too far soon—if you haven't already

• Getting rid of Ace wouldn’t mean just getting rid of a big threat—it also would have you under the Marine’s control once for all

• First of all, the Marine can’t get rid of an admiral so powerful like you, so it isn’t a choice to dismiss or execute you, so that leads to Ace. Given the way you are lovesick, getting rid of Ace will teach you a lesson—and a lesson to every other marine and pirate as well—, and your head will be focused on doing your job. You won’t rebel against the only people who know your weaknesses and help you be stronger

• The new census doesn’t need you and Garp to vote; it doesn’t matter what a small biased minority things about such a threat

• You already suspect what's going on when they send you across the ocean, and it gets worse when they start to guide you to a weird island you’ve never seen before

• Held. You’re being held across the ocean because they know you can save Ace if you have the opportunity, because you’re too precious to be wasted for such an insignificant matter. You’ll just be force– I mean, invited to a confidential meeting later to establish that your relationship with Ace will be forgiven and forgotten since they know it won’t happen again and you’re such a great admiral that they can’t risk losing you. You will have to sign a few documents and be under constant watch for a few months after it

• For now, you will just sit in this cold cell knowing your love is being executed

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

307 notes · View notes

heliads · 8 months

Note

Can you do a Peter Parker (Andrew Garfield) x Avenger reader one-shot? The reader is a Hydra experiment turned Avenger who has hawk wings and can fly like a bird. She can hide her wings by folding them like a bird can. She grew up somewhere in the US and doesn’t remember her parents, so the closest thing she has to a family is the Avengers. She meets Peter and starts dating him. Her alias, chosen by Tony, is Hawk, which Peter thinks is a little on the nose.

masterlist

You know, at moments like this, you’re really not sure if you’re dreaming or not. The setting around you seems real enough, but it’s happened so many times before that you’re starting to progress past deja vu and into entirely new territory. You could do this sort of mission in your sleep, and at this point, you kind of think you already have.

The scene is simple. Someone has attacked New York, and someone must save the city. This time, it’s not aliens or HYDRA knocking down your door but a new kind of inhuman with a bone to pick. At this rate, you get them so frequently that it’s like a regularly scheduled TV broadcast. Have you caught up on the latest season of unhappy mutants? Nah, I’m still three weeks backlogged on super powered individuals who hate us all.

A voice crackles into your earpiece, and you have to blink hard to get yourself to focus again. A lab tech company stole the blood samples of someone with powers in an attempt to understand more about what makes inhumans so utterly not human. The victim, your criminal of the week, is using his fire powers to burn down the company’s headquarters to prove that they’ll never be able to control him.

See, you’re supposed to be out here stopping the guy, but you kind of see his point. You were a lab experiment yourself a while back, and the results gave you powers and a chance to join the Avengers. Your time as a HYDRA science experiment was the worst experience of your life– agony and horror galore, to say the least– and if this guy’s standing up for the rights of the inhumans to avoid laboratories with a little too keen an interest in your inner workings, you don’t really want to kill him for his troubles.

That’s not the Avengers way, though. You weren’t hired for your thoughts on the rights of inhumans, especially those who suffered in the name of scientific progress, you’re here to save the city and the world and the universe, usually all three at once.

Hence the reason Captain America is chastising you to get your head in the game. This isn’t a time for sightseeing, it’s your chance to protect the innocents as the fire spreads. Thanks to the human-sized hawk wings that have been yours ever since your lab days, you’re in charge of the aerial defense of the Avengers, a role they need you for right now.

Today, you’re not a girl, you’re the Hawk, and you have a job to do. Tony Stark was responsible for your induction into the Avengers, as well as that very obvious alias. He’s also desperate for backup from the sky, especially right now.

You sigh, bid your morals a temporary adieu, and soar down from your vantage point in the clouds. The inhuman isn’t expecting another attacker from above, especially not one moving as fast as you. You tuck your wings into your sides for additional velocity, and slam into him hard enough to knock him to the ground.

Seizing the opportunity of his distraction, Natasha quickly fires electric charges into his chest, knocking the guy out for a few seconds. From there, it’s easy to get some cuffs on the inhuman and shove him into the reinforced mobile holding cell S.H.I.E.L.D. sent over for precisely that purpose.

Steve nods at you. “Thanks for the help, Y/N.”

You smile wearily. “Any time.”

It’s easier to appreciate the Avengers lifestyle now, basking in the glow of having played a pivotal role in keeping the city safe. It’s a little more difficult hours later, when the sun has already set but you’re still trapped in the Avengers complex for a debrief that just won’t end.

It’s not the Avengers’ fault, you know that. S.H.I.E.L.D. has its protocols, and they get a little antsy if they aren’t followed. Still, you can’t help it when your mind starts wandering. You’ve attended enough meetings on the proper rules to be followed when your life is on the line and they all blur together.

You tune back in when Steve says your name. They’re discussing you now, apparently, and the words being said aren’t all compliments.

Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Y/N, can you please try to focus for five minutes?”

You grimace. “Sorry, sorry. What were we talking about, exactly?”

Natasha arches a brow. “This, to be honest. You’re not as engaged with the fights as you used to be.”

You wince. “Can you blame me? I’ve been at this for years, Nat, ever since you guys broke me out of the HYDRA labs. I never went to S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy, I’ve never been a spy. I’m just doing my best out here.”

Bruce raises his hands placatingly. “We know that, kid, and we’re proud of you. We just need to be sure that you’re one hundred percent on top of things whenever you’re out in the field, for your safety as well as ours.”

You nod. “I’ll try to be better. Sorry.”

Tony frees you at last from the shame of everyone’s disapproving stares. “Look, cut the girl a break. She did well out there, and no one got hurt. If something happens, we can discuss this more seriously, but why punish her for an incident that hasn’t happened yet? Y/N, I know it’s getting late. You can go if you want.”

You jump on that chance and thank him, hurrying out of the room just in time to hear Steve chastising Tony for letting you go as the door closes behind you. You’re not sticking around to be called back. You have no interest in hearing a repeat of the same lecture.

In all honesty, they’re not entirely wrong. You do need to get your head in order. It’s just been difficult to focus on anything, really. Everything feels the same, and why care about any job if a similar mission is going to take place the next week, and the next week, and the next? They all end the same way, and they’re always going to.

You poke your head out of a balcony and, spreading your wings to take flight, soar up to the roof. Everything seems simpler up here. Why stress about the city when it’s nothing more than a thousand pinpricks of light?

You coast on the night breeze for a while before coming to a stop on a neighboring skyscraper. It’s nice to finally be alone, or so you think until a voice sounds from behind you.

“Sorry, is this roof taken?”

You glance behind you to see a figure emerging from the shadows. After a heartbeat, you realize you recognize the red mask, the scarlet and blue suit, the black arachnid logo on the center of the stranger’s chest. This is the Spider-Man you’ve been hearing about in the news lately. He’s saving the city, but doing it his own way, not caught up in the politics of being an Avenger.

Truth be told, you admire him for it. It must be nice to save people without the lecture that always follows you. He doesn’t have to be perfect, he just has to get the job done. What a life to lead.

You shake your head, gesturing beside you. “Not for you. What’s up, Spider-Boy?”

He chuckles as he sits down next to you. “Normally, I’d insist on being referred to as a man, but I’ll let it slide just this once. I’m pretty alright, what about you? I saw you were saving the city again earlier today. I would have joined in, but–”

You shake your head, dismissing his apology. “No need. The Avengers tend to swarm all over things, no need to involve yourself in their mess.”

Spider-Man glances your way, and when he speaks again, his voice is curious. “I take it you’re not on the best of terms with them at the moment?”

You sigh. “Just for now. They’re the only family I’ve ever known, so we get along most of the time. We’ve just been in a rough patch at the moment. I don’t really know why.”

Spider-Man lifts a shoulder. “Well, you said they’re like your family, right? The fights don’t surprise me. All families struggle to get along all the time. I’m sure it’ll blow over in a few days.”

You chuckle. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“I should hope so,” Spider-Man informs you, “I’m kind of the world’s leading expert on superpowered family relationships. I got a college degree in, uh, Avenging Therapy.”

This time, your laugh is easy, carefree. “Well, Mr. Inhuman Therapist, I’d love a little more advice. I’m Y/N, by the way.”

He reaches out a hand to shake yours. “I’m Peter. It’s lovely to meet you, Y/N.”

Lovely, as it turns out, is exactly the right word to use. The two of you talk well into the night, and you find yourself more than reluctant to leave him, even as the call to sleep grows stronger. Luckily, you end up crossing paths again soon, and then accidental meetings happen on purpose, more and more often until you know the face under the mask just as well as you know the so-called vigilante plastered across the newspaper pages.

It’s just nice to have Peter around, that’s all. He reminds you that there’s a life worth living outside of every fight. It takes you a while to realize that he’s the only friend you’ve ever wanted as more than just a friend, the one you like, the one you love, but after that– well, it feels impossible that you could have ever known anything else.

You’re on a similar rooftop one night a few months later when you learn that he feels the same way about you. You were a little late to your usual meetup spot thanks to yet another meeting with the Avengers, but instead of complaining, Peter beams at you and says,

“There she is! The angel of New York City has arrived.”

You laugh. It’s easy, around him. “That’s ridiculous. I’m nobody’s angel.”

The thought is absurd. You have been a lab rat, a soldier, and a civilian, all in turn. These are all roles that you have played, but none of them have ever been truly yours. Never, though, has an angel ever been among their ranks.

Still, Peter seems to believe it. His eyes gleam with certainty. “You’re mine.”

You almost choke on your own incredulity. “You’re joking. Me, an angel? There are at least a dozen S.H.I.E.L.D. files that would argue the opposite.”

“I’m not joking,” Peter hums. “You can’t deny your angel-hood, Y/N. I’ve already given it to you.”

“I’m giving it back,” you tell him. “Find someone who’s actually a good person.”

“I have,” he asserts. “I just don’t get why you can’t see that. It’s fairly obvious to me.”

You tilt your head to the side. “And why is that?”

“Oh, ‘cause I love you, of course,” Peter says, as easily as if he’s stating a simple, well known fact. Your face must have given away your surprise, because he glances over at you again. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” you manage to stutter out, “It’s just, well, I love you too.”

“I know,” he grins, tilting his head up to the night stars.

After that, it gets better, impossibly. As your boyfriend, Peter is in your life even more than before. Sometimes that involves him stopping by your apartment to bring you flowers. Other times, it means he’s willing to help out with the Avengers so long as they don’t ask questions like who he is and why he’s had an abrupt change of heart about wanting to fight with them.

Usually, you don’t want to call him in. The Avengers can be a hassle, which you’ve learned after years of being one of their number. However, when the fights get to be a little out of hand, a little text to your boyfriend means you’ll have another soldier on your side swinging over in five minutes flat, and that’s more welcome than you can even begin to describe.

Even on days like today, when he stops by to take out some robbers who somehow got their hands on alien tech, you couldn’t be happier to see him. The other Avengers are there, and you probably would have got the job done by yourselves, but it would have taken far more time and cost far more blood. Thankfully, you’ve got Spider-Man on dial, and you can solve problems like superpowered thieves in half the time.

You smile at him as he swings up beside you. He’s still got his mask on, of course, but you can sense his smile even despite the fabric in between you. “Thanks for the helping hand, Spider-Man.”

He laughs. “Any time, Angel. You know that.”

Across the street, the Avengers glance up from the robbers they’d been investigating. Tony frowns. “What was that?”

Peter freezes in place. “What was what?”

Tony quickly points his finger between the two of you. “You just called her something. Angel. What was that about?”

Peter lifts a shoulder in his best imitation of a shrug. “A, uh, new callname? Hawk is too obvious.”

Tony narrows his eyes. “And Angel isn’t?”

Peter raises his hands palm up in a universal gesture of helplessness. “I thought it was more interesting, at least.”

Tony doesn’t seem ready to let him off the hook just yet. “And that’s all it is? Just a codename, not anything else?”

Peter’s voice is as smooth as he can make it. “What else could it be, sir?”

You nod, the picture of innocence. “Yeah, Tony, what else could it possibly be?”

Tony stares at both of you, but he can’t find any evidence of wrongdoing. “It had better be. You wouldn’t believe how fast I can squash a spider if need be.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Peter says weakly, and starts hurrying away the second Tony turns his back.

You follow him, giggling to yourself. “Nice save there, bug boy.”

Peter groans. “If I wake up in the middle of the night to find that he’s launched an Iron Army or something to kill me as punishment for dating his adoptive superhero child, it’s totally your fault.”

You pretend to be outraged. “No, it’s not! You’re the one who called me that in the first place, remember? The blame’s all yours.”

Peter reaches an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. “Maybe you shouldn’t be as charming, Y/N. Then I wouldn’t have any problems properly addressing you as a coworker.”

You laugh. “My charm is irresistible, Pete. Give up now.”

“I already have,” he assures you. Such a flirt. You’ve never minded it, though, and you don’t intend to start now.

Sometimes, this city feels as if it was designed to stress you out. As an Avenger, you’ll never have an end to the missions, nor the civilians to save. There will always be one more job in which you could risk your life, and the memories of your time spent in Hydra’s labs won’t let you go anytime soon.

For now, though, the shadows under the skyscrapers seem a little less dark than before, and the faces peering out of apartment windows at you aren’t hostile or threatening but friendly. This is your city, the one you save with your boyfriend. How could it ever be anything but good to you?

requested by @thornyrose463, i hope you enjoy!

marvel tag list: @namoreno, @mayfieldss, @rogueanschel, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv, @with-inked-solace, @callsign-scully, @sher-lokid7, @eclliipsed, @23victoria, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @gods-fools-heroes, @w1shes43, @deafsuperhero, @fadedver, @alex-1967s-blog, @crazyhearttragedy

all tags list: @wordsarelife

140 notes · View notes

xxkookiexx · 11 months

Text

A Glitch in the System [Part.2]

𝙈𝙞𝙜𝙪𝙚𝙡 𝙊'𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙖 𝙓 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙚!𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝙎𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙨𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙨, 𝙨𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩, 𝙈𝙞𝙜𝙪𝙚𝙡 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙗𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙮, 𝙈/𝙣 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩💕

..••°°°°••..

"No, no, no-M/n! M/n! M/n? Just breath, you're alright. We're gonna fix this and you'll be fine. Okay? Everything will be fine."

"Miguel...You can't."

"No, no, no, no-NO! M/n, don't say that! Jess, we have to do something!"

"𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘰."

The Spider-society created by Miguel O'Hara is an elite group that assists in the capture of strayed anomaly's and returning them to their rightful dimension. M/n L/n has been with them since the beginning and has helped the group as much as he could, even with his questionable relationship wth their leader, that doesn't stop him from protecting others in need.

After Miles Morales finds himself at Headquarters, he's stuck with the choice of doing what's right and what he believes in but with the small support he's shown, he doesn't know who to trust.

M/n wants to help as much as he can, but whether or not he survives long enough to help the boy is the real question...

°°••....••°°

part.1 - part.3 - part.4 - part.5 - part.6 - part.7 - part.8 - part.9

After finding out the girl's name in the white suit, Gwen Stacy, it seemed to M/n she already had experience with travelling dimensions from her unfazed expression when she saw the massive complex on earth-928. Her gaze lingered on the lobby as hundreds of spider-men and spider-women wandered on the ceiling, walls, and platforms conversing to each other without a care in the world.

"Woah." Her voice echoed as M/n and Jess chuckled at her reaction. "How many are there?" She asked and looked at the duo with curious eyes and Jess answered with light humour. "Too many to count."

They started walking around with Gwen following like a small duckling which M/n found adorable.

"So...so what's the deal with that other guy?" Gwen asks and M/n replied this time knowing who she was talking about.

"Don't worry about him. He's always grouchy and hates new people." His answer was short and simple but Gwen still had questions.

M/n didn't say anything more and continued walking with Jess, leaving her to stand alone for a moment before she ran to catch up again. The group ended up where the captured villains were held in yellow like shield boxes. Gwen closely stared at a few of them when Jess drew her attention.

"The main thing we do is travel to different dimensions to capture 'anomaly's' or villains that have been sent to the wrong one. That little stunt you pulled with the collider on Earth-1610 was the cause of it, and that Miles Morales that ended up turning into spider-man."

The mention of Miles made Gwen tilt her head up as her eyes went wide. "Miles? Is he here?" She started looking around to see if she could spot her friend but Jess chuckled with a 'are you serious' face.

"Ahh, sorry no. He isn't here. And I don't think Miguel would want to bring him here either." It seemed her words made Gwen more confused so she gave her a smile and nodded her head to a hallway.

"Follow us. We'll explain."

M/n picked a bit of loose fabric on his wrist part of the suit and followed the pair blindly, contemplating whether or not he should fix it.

The room was dimly lit and held a thick atmosphere like it always did whenever they entered to speak with Miguel. Their eyes went to the high platform above them where Miguel stood with his back facing them, multiple hologram screens were spread out and showing different scenes including the one of him and his daughter.

M/n frowned and turned to Jess but she just shrugged, so he looked up again and called out to him.

"Big guy, you wanna come explain things to our newest member?"

The platform started to lower excruciatingly slowly but M/n and Jess were used to it. Gwen was not and made a face but the two just shook their heads and let out a little, 'it's his thing'.

"The multiverse is a complicated thing." Miguel started, his voice laced with authority as Miguel turned a bit to stare down the trio, specifically Gwen. "I'm assuming you know that already?"

She was about to answer but Miguel continued without a pause, "The risks of jumping through space and time, entering different dimensions and ruining them in a blink of an eye," He squinted his eyes at Gwen, staring her down threateningly. "A kid like you could easily make that mistake."

Gwen was taken back and placed a hand on her hip with a scowl. "I'm not a kid—"

"Oh, but you are." Miguel interrupted with crossed arms, "Sending you out there gives us the risk that you'll potentially mess something up."

"Then why'd you bring me here?" Gwen spat back and M/n was about to say something but Miguel already gave his response.

"Because having more people help is the better option for the protection of the multiverse." He took a moment before speaking up again, "And I know you have the skills to accomplish what we order you to do."

The two stared at each other until Gwen decided to ask a question she's been wanting to know ever since she got here. "What about Miles? Why isn't he here yet?"

Miguel let out a huff of air through his nose and stepped off the platform to start circling the group.

"Lyla, bring it up." The small hologram came up and she nodded and raised her arms and the room changed into a black void surrounded them with the small blue light coming down. Gwen stared at it and looked at Miguel as he began talking again.

"The thing about all of us, the reason we're all here is because of the event that happened to all of us canonically." Spreading his hands out as images of multiple spider men and women showed up.

They watched them all get bit by the spider and soon their transformation into the hero's they're all today. Gwen saw herself and images of her life appear around her, including the one of the death of Peter Parker, her deceased best friend.

She swallowed painfully at the image.

M/n went up into Gwen's field of view and snapped his fingers, now holograms of miles showing up making her inhale sharply. "If we're taking Miles into consideration, in the end he was never supposed to become spider-man." He began and they all saw the spider glitching and crawling on miles before it bit his hand.

Instantly Gwen stopped thinking and stared at the man like she didn't believe what he was saying. Miles wasn't supposed to be spider-man?

"That specific spider wasn't from his dimension, It was teleported there by mistake from King Pins collider that he made. Logically speaking there was already a spider-man on earth-1610, peter Parker, but after Miles found himself caught near the colliderit left Peter Parker to save him and...die."

"sSo now his existence as the new spider-man is creating instability in the multiverse and making him an anomaly." Miguel finished with his arms crossed and all three now stared at Gwen while she processed the information about her friend.

M/n walked through the images and placed both his hands on Gwen's shoulders, her face holding shock and confusion. "Gwen. We're all connected to the 'web of life and destiny'. All of us."

Gwen looked up to the large like tree with multiple branches sprouting. "Every reality. Every universe. Our lives spread across and woven together like a web. To keep it simple, it's what Miguel likes to call the canon."

The bright red lines darted everywhere and M/n pointed to a hexagonal shape where more smaller lines were converging. "These events that are apart of every spiders story mostly all the time. There are some good, and some bad. For Miles, it's his father who he has to sacrifice. Letting him join here it could result in him figuring it out trying to stop it, which we can't let happen." He admitted, much more serious than he appeared before.

"If miles saves his father, his world and everyone who lives in it could start to unravel." Miguel's voice rang through her ears, "It's happened before and most of the time we've been successful in preventing it but...we don't always get lucky." He confessed leaving Gwen to frown and stare into Miles' eyes, the ones that showed happiness and his face bright, free from knowing his fathers fate.

She took a step back as her eyes darted to the screens of miles, him swinging around freely in the midst of the moment. She knew the boy and of course he'd go above and beyond to save his father from his death but the consequence of that could lead to something catastrophic like they predicted.

"That's why he can't be here."

Even after they had explained Gwen still couldn't see the issue of just visiting him. "Can't I at least go see him—"

"No." Jess shut down quickly and Gwen opened her mouth to argue but Jess held up a finger with a serious look.

"We cannot let you risk seeing him. If you even give him the hint, the smallest assumption of his future or what he is, he's gonna do something that'll cause more bad than good for the multiverse." It was like a mother scolding her child about being reckless, which was exactly what Gwen felt like it was.

She didn't say anything else and the whole room became normal again. M/n felt the air become tense and knew a million thoughts were running through Gwen's head. He knew her close friendship with the boy, he could see their bond form over the time Gwen got teleported into his dimension and they were forced to work together to save Miles' world.

It seemed Miguel had had enough and he turned his head slightly to give Jess a look.

"Jess." Miguel called, gaining the woman's attention,

"Go show Gwen how to use the dimensional travel watch and take her to Kess, she'll show her the machine so she understand what exactly goes on around here." Not leaving any room for augment and turning back around to stand on the platform.

M/n watched Jess gesture to the hallway and Gwen took a glance at him before slowly exiting.

It was silent and M/n knew Miguel was pondering like he always was so he thought of a super intelligent plan.

He jumped up next to Miguel and took off his mask once again to chuck it in the table and placed his hand on his left shoulder.

"What's on your mind, big red?" He asked and walked around Miguel's figure, staring up at his stone cold face with a smirk. His hand slid across Miguel's front easily feeling him through the suit as Miguel narrowed his eyes at M/n.

The h/c male blinked, looking away and letting his hand leave Miguel's body.

"That Stacy girl's pretty cool ain't she?" His gaze wasn't focused on anything as a hand had suddenly pulled at his waist and Miguel dragged M/n to stand in front of his taller figure.

"Don't talk about her when you're alone with me." Muttering with a clenched jaw, tracing both his hands around M/n's sides.

M/n bit his lip with a grin and brought his much smaller hands upwards to lean them on Miguel's lower stomach.

"Why? You jealous?" Giving a coy smirk but Miguel just kept his gaze firm and tightened his grip on M/n, his claws coming out a bit and pinching the mans skin.

"Hardly." He responded, feeling M/n's hands move up and down at a snail's pace, as if he was feeling everything for the first time again.

"Good." M/n licked his lips, watching as Miguel's eyes followed the movement.

"You're playing a dangerous game." Lifting a hand to slide his fingers underneath M/n's chin and bring it up a bit and M/n followed his action, lifting his hand to grasp at Miguels wrist softly.

"I thought you liked dangerous games?" M/n challenged and Miguel gave a sly smile and was about to lean closer until a hesitant voice called out to them.

"Umm...hello?"

M/n yelped and pushed his hands against Miguel's face in a panic making him grunt and leaned around to see who had walked in on them. "Y-Yes?" He shouted with a flushed face and spotted Kess standing there with an embarrassed look on her face.

"Is it a bad time?" She questioned and looked between M/n and a grumpy faced Miguel. M/n shook his head and walked around Miguel towards her.

"Nope! Never a bad time, love. What's up?" Saying at the same time as Miguel had muttered a 'yes'.

"I finished that upgrade you asked for, I was hoping you'd come see it? Gwen's also there if you wanted to help?" Making a bunch of hand gestures out of nervousness trying to ignore the glare that was burning into her head by the leader.

Miguel huffed and crossed his arms while M/n smiled happily at her. "Of course I'd love to see it. Miguel, you coming?"

Miguel rolled his eyes and went forward, raising a hand to rest it on M/n's lower back as they started walking. "You wouldn't have given me a choice anyway. "

"Oh, you know me so well." M/n grinned and laced his fingers with Miguels and they followed behind Kess to the console room where she worked.

#across the spiderverse #miles morales #miguel o'hara #spiderman #gwen stacy #into the spider verse #spiderman 2099 #fanfiction #suggestive #male reader #mxm

171 notes · View notes

eretzyisrael · 28 days

Text

by Chaim Lax

A popular adage states that “a lie can travel halfway around the world while the truth is still putting on its shoes.”

In this day and age of social media and up-to-the-minute news, it has never been faster for a lie to travel around the world — and it’s been even harder for the truth to try and catch up.

That was the case last week, when Al Jazeera spread a malicious libel about Israeli soldiers raping Palestinian women in Al-Shifa Hospital during the IDF’s ongoing campaign against entrenched Hamas forces there, before quietly removing the story and trying to silently bury it.

On the morning of March 24, Al Jazeera Arabic’s principal news presenter, Elsy Abi Assi (who is no stranger to antisemitism and denial of Hamas atrocities), interviewed a Gazan woman by the name of Jamila Al-Hessi on live TV. She claimed that Israeli soldiers operating in Al-Shifa Hospital were raping Palestinian women and brutally murdering other Palestinians sheltering in the medical complex.

These allegations soon spread like wildfire on social media, with popular anti-Israel accounts picking up the story and disseminating it to their large English-speaking audiences.

Then, that night, Yasser Abuhilalah, an Al Jazeera columnist and former director, tweeted that a Hamas investigation into these allegations had concluded that they were not true, and that Jamila Al-Hessi had justified her on-air deception by claiming that she had exaggerated her claims in order to “arouse the nation’s fervor and brotherhood.”

According to some analysts, Hamas had decided to issue a rare public denial of these claims since its dissemination among Palestinians in northern Gaza was having the opposite effect than was intended: Instead of producing enmity against Israel, these allegations had caused Palestinians to flee the area in fear for their safety.

By the next day, Al Jazeera had removed references to Al-Hessi’s claims from its online platforms, but never formally retracted these libels, even though it had uncritically aired them in the first place.

However, by that point, it was too late. The damage to Israel’s reputation had already been done.

In less than 24 hours, millions of people had already viewed Jamila Al-Hessi’s lies on social media and, despite the denial by Hamas itself, continue to do so through a variety of anti-Israel accounts.

As of this last Thursday alone, the story had been viewed 2.3 million times on the X (formerly Twitter) account of Middle East Eye, 918,000 times on the X account of “investigative journalist” Sulaiman Ahmed, 405,000 times on the X account of “human rights activist”/Hamas supporter Ramy Abdu, and over 305,000 times on the X account of alternative media outlet The Cradle.

Some (including Sana Saeed, a journalist affiliated with Al Jazeera) have even gone so far as to voice skepticism of Hamas’ discrediting of Al-Hessi’s story.

The allegation of rape by IDF soldiers in Al-Shifa Hospital is not the first lie about Israel and the IDF that has been spread since Hamas’ October 7 terror attack and the subsequent Israeli invasion of Gaza.

However, in this case, it was not spread by a lone social media activist or a fringe news source, but by a news organization that enjoys a veneer of respectability among both news consumers and media outlets around the world.

Despite it serving as an official mouthpiece of the authoritarian Qatari regime, and being accused of echoing Hamas talking points, Al Jazeera is viewed as a trusted source of information about Israel and the Palestinians during the current conflict, as well as over the past several years.

In 2022, HonestReporting uncovered that Al Jazeera had been cited by 16 “top-tier news outlets” 116 times in Israel-related news stories, with most never mentioning the Qatari media organization’s inherent bias.

Also, if not for Hamas deciding that the libel about rapes in Al-Shifa Hospital was not in its best interest and issuing a denial of the allegations, it is highly likely that Al Jazeera would have continued to run with this fabrication as a trusted news story.

In this age of the 24-hour news cycle and instant access to news from around the world, Al Jazeera is serving as a valuable tool in Hamas’ propaganda war, spreading misinformation and sullying Israel’s image around the world at record speeds.

Al Jazeera’s malign influence on the views of social media users is concerning. For mainstream media outlets to rely on it as a source for Israel-related stories is downright journalistic malpractice.

#al jazeera #rape #rape libel #propaganda #hamas #gaza #al-shifa hospital

39 notes · View notes

manorpunk · 13 days

Text

2️⃣

‘Comprador’ refers to an agent of a large multinational corporation whose typical job responsibility is taking a small underdeveloped nation and turning it into a vending machine for a natural resource - oil, coffee, coal, minerals - then getting that nation so dependent on selling those raw materials to that company that they effectively control it.

Unrelatedly, the Global Logistics Network was the single largest anything of 2069.

They weren’t a monopoly, no, no, no. They were… you see, the crowded and fragile system of intercontinental shipping was simply too important to be left in the hands of any single nation. You all saw what happened when the Brits monopolized it, and when the US monopolized it after them. You’ve seen how nations owning major canals turns them into a hive of corruption. Shipping belongs to the world, which means it belongs to the GLN.

They were headquartered in Qingdao, a major city in the Shandong province of China. Don’t be fooled, China fumbled the past few decades as much as everyone else, but every institution needs a head, and every head needs a headquarters, and the headquarters of the Global Logistics Network were located in Qingdao. The complex of skyscrapers that comprised GLNHQ was large and populous enough to form its own city-state, a closed loop of offices, gyms, fabricators, dormitories, labs, shops, copackers, cafeterias, and warehouses. You could spend your whole life there without ever setting foot on the earth itself. Many did.

Such was the Global Logistics Network. Like capitalism rising centuries ago from the sclerotic and shambling remnants of feudalism, the GLN rose from the old ways of hyper-financialized over-leveraged capitalism to create something new, something so new it didn’t even have a name yet. Much like the transition from feudalism to capitalism, things were better overall, but good lord, what a low bar to clear.

Towering above it all at the top floor of the central skyscraper sat Meng “Harold” Jianli, sole co-founder of the GLN. One might wonder how someone could be a ‘sole co-founder,’ and the answer was that the GLN was so powerful and omnipresent that its leader could have called himself a living god for all the power that sat upon his person. He certainly had more power than those who had historically claimed the title of living god.

But Meng “Harold” Jianli was no god, living or otherwise. Despite the vast power seated upon his person, or perhaps because of it,he looked rather disheveled, with a jowly face like splotchy old parchment, a sagging belly, and a crudely functional flat-top of black hair. His suit was slack and rumpled - his weight had a tendency to fluctuate wildly thanks to the stress.

It was stressful, being in charge. Past a certain point, you don’t really get more powerful, you just have more people to babysit and more fires to put out. He had to keep an eye on Novo Karo Bioresearch, or they’d be so excited to show off their new research that they’d start doing eugenics. He had to keep an eye on Vae Victis Engineering, or they’d get so excited testing out their new tech that they’d start a world war. And now, with his hands steepled and his brow furrowed, he had to keep an eye on the vtuber that the American League had elected president.

He stared at Sunny Roosevelt. Sunny smiled back and gave him a little wave.

“I am willing to work with you, miss Roosevelt. The GLN is willing to work with just about anyone, it’s one of our biggest strengths.” He shifted effortlessly between ‘I’ and ‘we,’ treating the two as synonyms. “The issue is, we are still trying to figure out what your administration actually intends to do.”

“Hmm.” Sunny put a finger to her chin, pursed her lips, and looked upward. An ellipsis appeared over her head. “You got a copy of my campaign objectives, right?”

“Are you referring to this?” He held up a single sheet of paper, on which was written ‘make anime real’ in 48-point font and nothing else.

“Yep!”

“And you think this qualifies as a roadmap for your presidency.”

“Personally, I think it’s quite ambitious.”

Harold puttered his lips. “Miss Roosevelt-”

“Please, call me ‘mommy.’”

“Miss Roosevelt, I understand that you are standing on rather shaky ground. The National Board of Directors is being dragged away from the provisional US government days,” he said, which neglected to mention how half of the National Board of Directors were former GLN big names, “and the new state congress acts more like a rehab clinic for celebrity podcasters than a governing body,” he said, which stood just fine without caveats.

“I understand,” Sunny said, nodding and still smiling, “I’m a bimbo who’s in way over her head, so you’re going to unveil the GLN’s big five year plan and tell me to follow it like a good little girl.”

Harold was already in the process of lifting a hefty unlabeled binder, intending to thump it dramatically atop his desk, but the accuracy of Sunny’s comment left him slightly deflated. “I prefer to think of it as an advisory-”

“And then I’ll kiss up to you during our conversations,” Sunny continued, “but stall and drag my feet when it comes to actually implementing anything, and you’ll say,” she loosened her face and dropped her voice, “dammit Sunny, are you trying to play me for a fool?”

“I don’t sound like that. I don’t sound like Richard Nixon,” Harold protested, sounding kind of like Richard Nixon.

“And then I’ll say, it’s not me, it’s the state governors, they just refuse to cooperate. The new congress is one big old boy’s club. Even the Board of Directors is demanding overly-detailed descriptions of everything before they’ll sign off on it, it’s malicious compliance!” Sunny hung her head and threw her hands, wailing, “you set me up to fail, Harold. You set me up to fail, you rat bastard!”

“Are you done?”

Sunny straightened back up. There was that smile again. “Yep. That was fun.”

“In any case, while I understand you are currently something of a figurehead, even figureheads cannot afford to do nothing. Not when a third of the country is still lacking even the barest measures of centralized government.”

“What, you mean the Midwest Autonomous Zone?” A little question mark appeared over Sunny's head. “I mean, yeah, but it’s not like that started with the fall of the old US. Missouri was a dump long before the thirties.”

“Be that as it may-”

“That’s the 2030s, because we’re in the future.”

“Miss Roosevelt.”

“Please, call m-”

“No. Miss Roosevelt, why did you become president if you are so averse to actually presiding?”

Sunny shrugged and let out a huffy little sigh. “Look, most people weren’t exactly begging to have America back. Not even Americans. They don’t want someone with a bold, inspirational vision. Bold, inspirational visions are what start world wars, for George’s sake. I, for one, believe that bench-warming is not just a good idea but a moral imperative.”

“George’s sake?” Harold repeated.

“Saint George Washington. Oh, right, America’s got a brand new religion now, it’s called Founderism. We took the whole Founding Father worship thing and made it an official heresy. Also, Jesus was a small business owner.”

Harold grimaced and considered leaving the former USA to the wolves for a few more decades.

#Heaven is Falling #writing #sunny roosevelt #meng ‘harold’ jianli

40 notes · View notes

the-bad-batch-baroness · 11 months

Text

Beloved

Fives x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1: Hormones vs Pheromones

Summary: A horrible smell leads to a precious discovery. You and Fives have been enjoying your life together, but everything is about to change now that you’re pregnant. While your hormonal imbalance rages, Fives must hang on for dear life as he’s dragged through the stages of fatherhood. Luckily, the 501st has his back and comes to the rescue more than once.

Pairing: Fives x Fem!Reader

Characters: Fives, Kix

Tags & Warnings: established relationship, suggestive themes, pregnancy, morning sickness, vomiting, humor, domestic fluff, insults, sarcasm, light angst, dialogue heavy

Word Count: 4.8k

Author's Note: I came up with this idea after listening to a podcast about a woman whose pregnancy hormones made her absolutely hate her husband. Then it turned into a series… Whoops. Written in second person, but from different perspectives. Main focus is on Fives. Also, lots of dialogue because sarcasm and insults require some talking.

Beta Read: By the lovely @commander-sunshine because I was going to throw this fic in the trash and she convinced me otherwise. Thanks babe 💚

@clonexreaderbingo Square: Fives

Chapter 1

Your life is blissful nowadays. You and Fives live peacefully in the GAR Commons, which houses the entire 501st Battalion. The communal building complex has multiple accommodations, including studios, one bedrooms, and multi-rooms that will fit up to four clone troopers at a time. There’s also a community mess hall, medbay, shooting range, weight room, and even a courtyard with benches and flowers to enjoy. For GAR standards, it’s a nice place to live.

As an ARC trooper, Fives was able to swipe himself a one bedroom for the two of you. It’s a little thing, but it’s cozy and it’s spacious enough for all of your needs. When you first moved in, you completely fell in love with its simplistic charm. It has all of the necessities, a bedroom, refresher, kitchen, living area, and lots of closet space. You quickly set to work making it a home for you and Fives by adding pictures, a couple decorative pillows, and some nice curtains.

There’s not much else you could ask for to complete your little world. The life of a clone trooper’s wife isn’t always the best, but you never let yourself dwell on the unpredictable aspects of the war. Some days Fives will wake up and be gone for sixty-five rotations and other times he will wake up and be gone for two rotations. Better still, some days he wakes up and doesn’t have to go anywhere. Those are your favorite days, the ones where you get him all to yourself.

Everything is pretty quiet at the moment. Fives hasn’t gone out on assignment for eighty rotations, which is his longest base assignment on record. Although, he still has duties at the GAR headquarters. Sometimes he trains the shinies and other times he has local missions, but at the minimum, he still makes it home for dinner every night. Well, almost every night. Once and a while, he’ll kick back at 79s with the boys and drink late into the night like old times.

Fives isn’t the party boy he used to be, so you find it funny when he makes an attempt. When you first met him at 79s, he was wild, rowdy, and an absolute terrible flirt. He tried time and time again to get you to go out on a date with him using cheesy pick-up lines, but they never worked. Eventually, he stopped trying, and you found yourself missing his playful advances. You thought he was charming and funny, and adored his hearty laugh. Finally, you caved and began dating.

Now married, he spends more time at home and less time at the bar. Neither of you know when he will ship out again, so it’s important to spend quality time together as a couple when he is at home. This particular evening is brimming with relaxation while you watch the latest holo-film. Both of you are snuggling in bed, your head resting on his shoulder while he holds a bowl of popcorn on his chest. You put your hand in the bowl, take a few pieces, and pop them into your mouth.

“He’s going to die,” you say while munching away.

Fives cocks his head. “You think?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” you nod.

“Why do you say that?” Fives asks while grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“They’ve built him up way too much to let him live,” you point out while gesturing towards the holo-film.

“Brutal,” Fives shakes his head.

“I know right?” you chuckle and toss more popcorn into your mouth.

As the holo-film draws to its conclusion, you begin to doze. You nod off repeatedly, all the while Fives giggles to himself at your adorable attempts to stay awake. He turns his head to look at your sleeping face and plants a small kiss on your temple. He flexes, stretching his legs, and carefully lifts you off his shoulder to lay you down without waking you. He turns the holo-film off as the credits roll and gets up to bring the popcorn bowl into the kitchen.

He returns to bed and crawls in next to you, spooning your back tightly against his chest and draping an arm across your stomach. He breathes deeply, inhaling the faint scent of your gardenia and jasmine shampoo before snuggling in for the night. But, just as he gets comfortable, you shift under his arm. He shifts with you and readjusts. A couple minutes later, you shift again. He sighs and repositions himself to accommodate you. The third time you squirm is when he breaks the silence.

“What’s the matter?” he mumbles into his pillow.

“Do you smell that?” you ask as you scrunch your nose. You can smell a putrid odor in the air, but you can’t figure out where it’s coming from.

“Smell what?” Fives takes a whiff, but all he can smell is your shampoo and maybe something else mixed in with it.

“That smell,” you answer in annoyance as you roll out of his arm’s hold and onto your back. “You don’t smell it?”

“I don’t smell anything but you,” Fives laughs as he props himself up on his elbow.

Your face scrunches in repulsion of his movement and you pinch your nose. “It’s you!”

“Me?!” Fives exclaims, a mix of surprise and confusion.

“When was the last time you showered?” you ask in disgust.

He blinks in bewilderment at your question. “This morning.”

“I don’t believe you,” you argue while sitting up. “You smell awful.”

“You were there,” he reminds you with a sigh. “In the shower, with me.”

You think back and realize he’s right, you both showered this morning and you’ve been together all day. You wonder what else it could be. “Deodorant?”

He sniffs his armpit to make sure. “Yeah, I put that on too.”

You both look at each other, puzzled at the weird occurrence. You think as hard as you can about where else the smell might be coming from, but you swear it's originating from Fives. You ask him to move again and he sits himself up against the pillow. Your nose is immediately assaulted by a horrendous smell and you gag in response. You turn away from him and gag again. Fives raises an eyebrow in concern at your bizarre response to his body odor.

“Why don’t I go take another shower,” he says as he gets out of bed.

You're not sure if it will help, but you nod in between gags as he moves away from you.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, not knowing what else to say. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but it seems like he’s the cause and he feels bad about it.

You lean back against your pillow and try to relax. The awful scent still lingers, but at least it’s weaker now that Fives has left. You grab his ill-scented pillow and toss it off the bed to try and get rid of the rest of the smell. You roll over on your side, away from Fives’ side of the bed, clutch the covers to your face, and begin to cry. Why you're crying, you don’t know, but you feel the need to cry anyway. At least the congestion from crying will help clog your nose and keep the stench out.

When Fives returns from the shower, toweling dry his wet hair, he sees you laying in bed crying. He drops the towel, rushes over, and crawls onto the bed next to you. He places a tender hand on your back to let you know he is there. “Cyare, what’s wrong?” he asks with concern.

“I…” you say through coughing sobs. “I don’t know. I… I just want to stop.”

“Stop what?” he inquires, looking for any semblance or idea of what is causing you to be crying so suddenly. He visually looks you over to make sure there’s nothing externally wrong with you.

“Everything,” you cry harder and curl into a ball.

Fives is even more baffled. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I don’t know!” you yell in frustration at yourself for also not knowing what you mean, and for the fact that he’s asking you questions you don’t have the answers to.

“Udesii, cyar’ika,” Fives soothes while rubbing your back. “Shh. It’s alright.”

As his hand gently circles your back, the putrid smell returns and you reach around to push his hand away to make him stop. Fives is taken aback by your rejection and recoils his hand. You turn your head to look back at him with apologetic eyes. You’re not sure why you pushed him away, but you don’t want him touching you right now. Something isn’t right. This is all wrong. Your emotions are running wild and you can’t seem to get them under control. You start crying again at your helplessness.

“Cyare…” Fives trails as he watches and listens to your insatiable distress, but there’s nothing he can do about it. If he knew what to do, he would be doing it already. There’s nothing in his training that has prepared him for whatever this is. All he can do is be here for you if you need him.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you say through your tears.

“Maybe we should go see Kix in the morning,” Fives suggests.

You nod, thinking it might be a good idea to have a medic look you over. Fives brings a hand down to cup your cheek, a sweet gesture he always does when you’re feeling down, but instead of leaning into it, you slap his hand away. You put your hands over your mouth in shock at what you just did. Fives curls his lips and sighs as he flops back against the backboard in defeat. He doesn’t know what to do and you don’t know what you want him to do. Everything is confusing.

“I’m so sorry,” you say as more tears fall. “I… I don’t know. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” Fives interrupts before you can berate yourself further. “I know.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you repeat as if saying it out loud will help you solve the puzzle.

“If it’s my smell bothering you,” Fives begins, his voice wavering with uncertainty, "why don’t I sleep down there, with my pillow.”

“Fives,” you begin to protest, even though you really do want him and his unbearable stench to be somewhere else.

“It’s fine, really,” Fives chuckles as he slips off the duvet and lays himself down next to the bed. “I’ve slept in worse places than our bedroom floor.”

You bury your head in your pillow as your shattering cries take over again. Fives can hear your muffled sobs and it kills him that he can’t hold you through them. You don’t know why you’re upset. It’s a terrible emotion to both want and not want your husband. It never crossed your mind. You have a playful and fun relationship, and always enjoy his company, that is, until now. You can’t wrap your head around it, but you’re hoping a good night's sleep will fix everything.

Eventually you both fall asleep, for the first time, separately. When Fives is home, you always sleep together in some form, whether it’s backs touching, spooning, or legs intertwining, even his hand accidentally smacking your face. No matter if you're happy with or angry at each other, you never sleep without some type of contact, that is, until tonight. You both feel it, the sting of separation, but there is a part of you that just can’t bring yourself to touch him right now.

As the early hours of dawn break, you feel a stirring in the pit of your stomach. You shift to try and alleviate it, but it only gets worse. The feeling travels up your esophagus and into the back of your throat, making you squirm in discomfort. “Fives,” you call out to him as you hold your aching stomach.

“Mhm,” he mumbles sleepily from his little blanket nest on the floor.

“I don’t feel good,” you answer as you curl yourself up a little tighter.

“What kind of ‘not feel good’?” he asks as he slowly sits up and rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

“I think I’m gonna puke,” you say while jolting up and putting a hand over your mouth.

“Oh no,” Fives groans as he stumbles up off the floor to find a bucket. “Hang on!” he calls back as he scurries to the kitchen.

Your stomach muscles contract and you start to gag. “Fives!”

Fives rushes back into the bedroom with a small bucket and comes around to your side of the bed, but he’s a little too late. Your mouth fills with saliva in preparation of what’s to come and you can’t hold it in any longer. Fives dives for it, but misses by a couple inches as you vomit on the bedroom floor. He’s able to catch the end of it, while simultaneously grabbing most of your hair to hold it out of the way. You continue to vomit into the bucket until the spasms stop.

“Sorry,” you pant when you can finally speak again. Your chest hurts from the convulsions and your throat burns from regurgitating your stomach contents.

“Don’t worry about it,” Fives says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’ll clean it up.”

You smile lazily at him and are grateful he is there to help you, but something still doesn’t feel right. As he gets up to find some cleaning supplies you get a whiff of the same smell from last night and start gagging. Fives turns to bring the bucket back just in case and shoots you a worried look. Something is wrong with you. Something is very wrong with you. You don’t know what it is about his scent all of sudden, but it’s the most nauseating smell in the galaxy.

“Please, get away from me,” you plead through gags while putting up a hand to signal him to stay back. “You smell so bad.”

“That’s it,” Fives sighs while rubbing his forehead. “We’re going to see Kix.”

He leaves the bedroom to empty the bucket and comes back to clean up the floor. He places a clean bucket on the bed for you to use, trying with difficulty to respect your new boundaries. He then opens the dresser and throws on whatever he can find the quickest and tosses you one of his shirts. You grab the shirt, but it's covered in that horrific smell so you throw it at his back and it plops on the floor by his feet. He slumps his shoulders and you put your head in your hands and start to cry again.

Fives lets out a discouraged sigh and grabs something of yours from the closet that will be comfy to wear to medbay and something you won’t mind throwing up on, just in case. He eventually finds an oversized hoodie he knows doesn’t smell like him and he tosses that to you. You smell it to be sure, and you sigh in relief as you pop it over your head. You grab the clean bucket and slowly get up from the bed, legs still wobbly from the stomach convulsions earlier.

Fives does everything in his power not to hold you steady. He reaches, but he pulls back knowing you’ll probably start vomiting again if he gets too close. He grabs the keys and your bag and opens the door to the GAR Commons hallway and waits for you to follow him. You trail after him as he leads the way to the medbay. It’s strange walking behind him and not alongside him, or holding his hand, but you quickly realize that following him was a terrible idea.

You stop and vomit into your bucket. You’re not sure where all of this is coming from, because there’s no way you have this much food in your stomach, but you don’t take the time to try and figure it out. Fives stops at the familiar sound and turns around to look at you. His eyes are compassionate. “I’m leaving a trail, aren’t I?” he asks knowingly.

You nod.

He sighs. “Why don’t you take the lead and I’ll follow you?”

You nod again and walk past him while holding your breath.

As you enter the medbay, you see Kix bustling about as he gets ready for the day. The medics always start early, but since Kix is in charge of the Common’s medbay, he has to start earlier than the other medics, which is great for the both of you. He doesn’t notice you at first, but as you both hobble awkwardly into his periphery, he catches a glimpse and stops what he’s doing. “Are you two okay?” Kix asks as he checks the time and looks at your fatigued states.

“I think I’m sick,” you answer while clutching your bucket.

“I can see that,” Kix says as he notices the bucket you're holding and glances at Fives suspiciously standing a good distance away. “Come on, let me take a look at you.” He gestures with his head for you to follow him to one of the exam rooms.

You both sit down, on opposite sides of the room, and it doesn't go unnoticed by Kix. He can already tell something is amiss. He sits down backwards on the rolling medical stool and crosses his arms over the seat back. He looks at you, sitting closest to the door, and then swivels the chair to look at Fives sitting in the opposite corner. “So, tell me what’s going on,” Kix asks as he swivels back to look at you.

“It started last night,” you begin to explain. “We were watching a holo-film, ate some popcorn, and then went to sleep. But, suddenly, I started smelling this weird smell and it made me super nauseous. But the weird thing is that the smell was coming from Fives.”

Kix raises an eyebrow at your last comment and looks over at Fives who’s sitting with his arms crossed over his chest, foot tapping rapidly on the floor. Kix can only describe the expression on the ARC trooper’s face as a mix between confused, concerned, and annoyed.

Feeling Kix’s stare burning a hole in his skull, Fives adds to your comment about his odor. “Then, I took a shower thinking that would fix the smell issue.”

“Did you use soap?” Kix asks blankly.

“Yes, I used soap,” Fives answers with an unamused huff. “But she still said I smelled.”

Kix narrows his eyes and looks back and forth between the two of you, but doesn’t say anything about what he’s thinking yet.

“Then I woke up this morning feeling like I was going to vomit,” you continue on with the timeline of events.

“Yeah,” Fives interjects with a small laugh. “And she missed the bucket too.”

“Shut up, Fives!” you exclaim in frustration at his irritating laughter. His penetrating voice grates against your eardrums, so you rub them to try and get some relief. None of this is funny to you and you don’t understand how he could be laughing so flippantly about it. Something is seriously wrong with you and his perceivable apathy is making you furious.

Fives’ mouth drops open in shock at your uncharacteristic outburst, but Kix just snorts at it. Your overreaction is the last piece of information he needs to connect a few dots that have been rolling around in his head since you got there.

“What are you smiling at?” you exclaim at Kix with annoyance. You wonder why everyone all of sudden thinks you’re suffering is a joke.

“I think I know what your problem is,” Kix chuckles as he pushes his feet to the floor and rolls his chair backwards to one of the drawers. He pulls the drawer open, grabs a small box, and slowly wheels himself back over to hand it to you.

You look at the box and your eyes widen. “You’re joking?”

“Afraid not,” Kix grins while placing his chin in his palm. “You have most of the early stage symptoms.”

“What?” Fives asks nervously, completely oblivious to the contents of the box as he cranes to look from his position across the room. “What is it? What does she have?”

You let out a heavy sigh at Fives’ pestering questions and toss the small box to him with an exasperated shake of your head.

He examines the box and gives Kix a puzzled look. “This is a pregnancy test.”

“So, you can read,” Kix says sarcastically.

“How did that happen?!” Fives wonders in shock.

“If I have to explain it to you, then you probably shouldn't be having sex,” Kix answers bluntly.

You place your head in your hands in defeat and let out a small squeal of irritation. How in the world did you end up with this idiot for a husband? What was it that you saw in him that made him so appealing? At this point, he has as much appeal as a bantha’s backside, and that’s being generous. This changes everything. You can’t be pregnant, can you? Your life has been perfect up until now. You don’t need anything else to make you happy.

“I know how it happens,” Fives retorts with an eye roll. “I’m just surprised that it did happen.”

“Contraception isn’t one hundred percent effective,” Kix explains. “Abstinence is, but we both know you don’t have any of that.”

“Does it even matter?” you interrupt their annoying banter, about ready to smack them both. You’re not sure where all the agitation is suddenly coming from, but your fuse is wearing thin. You get up and walk over to Fives. “Give me that.” You swipe the box back from him and go to the nearest refresher to take the test.

“So, how did you know?” Fives asks after you leave the exam room and close the door behind you.

“Easy,” Kix answers with a shoulder shrug. “The hormone changes during the first trimester can be drastic, including morning sickness, food cravings, breast tenderness, irritability, heightened sense of smell, and in rare cases an aversion to the father.”

“She has at least four of those,” Fives notes while listening intently.

“The others will come eventually,” Kix explains further. As a medic, pregnancy is not what he is trained for, but he can never be too knowledgeable about these types of things, considering the amount of men he has to look after. One of them was bound to have a baby at some point in his medical career.

“Is she really not going to like me anymore?” Fives asks nervously, still thinking about the list of hormonal changes Kix mentioned.

“Eh,” Kix scratches his head, trying to be realistic and honest. “More like she’s going to hate your guts, if this morning’s events are any indication.”

“Hate?” Fives questions with concern. “How long is that going to last?”

“Could be just the first trimester,” Kix begins while thinking out loud. “Or the full 280 rotations.”

“280 rotations!” Fives exclaims. “What am I supposed to do during all that time?”

“I don’t know,” Kix says. “That’s your problem, not mine.”

“Can’t you give her something for it?” Fives frantically asks as he goes into panic mode.

“Yeah,” Kix says sarcastically. “Vitamins and prenatal supplements.”

“No, not that,” Fives corrects while waving his hands. “I mean for the hormonal changes.”

“You want me to give her something to change her pregnancy hormones to non-pregnancy hormones?” Kix clarifies with a raised eyebrow. “Fives, I know you can be clueless at times, but that’s gotta be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“But, how am I going to survive this?” Fives asks, desperate for guidance. “She can’t even stand the way I smell.”

“Again,” Kix repeats. “My only concern is mother and baby, not your identity crisis.”

“C’mon, Kix,” Fives pleads. “You gotta help me.”

“Get a therapist,” Kix advises bluntly.

Fives and Kix’s conversation comes to an abrupt stop when you swing open the door to the exam room. Fives sees you crying and isn’t sure if they are happy tears, sad tears, or angry tears, but he’s bracing for all the possibilities. You look at Fives, smile, and nod your head to let him know that the test is indeed positive. You are pregnant. You are going to be a mother and Fives is going to be a father. You feel an overwhelming sense of joy at the prospect and can’t stop smiling.

“Congratulations,” Kix says with an ear-to-ear grin. “You're going to be parents.”

Fives takes a deep breath as his heart beats rapidly in his chest. Him, a father? A parent? He doesn’t even know what a parent is, let alone how to be one. All at once, the issues of last night and this morning seem to melt away as he’s now flooded with anxious thoughts about what the rest of your lives will look like. Will he be a good father? How does one take care of a baby? He’s a soldier. He isn’t bred for this sort of thing. It’s not part of his genetic make-up.

Rex is good with kids, but him? He is the most awkward person alive when he gets around kids. Most of the other clone troopers seem to be naturals, always knowing what to say, what to do, and just fun to be around. He, on the other hand, makes children cry. Echo too. Maybe his batch got messed up during the cloning process. Maybe the rest of Domino Squad was terrible with kids and he just didn’t know it since his original batchmates have long since departed.

You cock your head at your husband's silence as his brain short circuits from the news. “Fives?” you prod to try and get a response. He hasn’t moved or said anything since you came back into the room, so you’re not sure what his thoughts are. What if he doesn’t want to be a father? What if he doesn’t want a baby? What if he doesn’t want you anymore? The destructive thoughts wash over you in waves as your anxiety increases while awaiting his response.

Kix, seeing the dazed look in Fives’ eyes and your nervous expression, picks up a tongue depressor off the counter and throws it at Fives’ face. It bounces off his cheek and he slowly looks up at the two of you. Finally realizing he is not alone with his thoughts, he snaps out of his swirling haze and sees your worried face. The affection and protectiveness he feels for you, his now pregnant wife, begins to overwhelm all his senses.

Fives shoots up from his seat, rushes over to you, and pulls you against his chest. He squeezes you tightly and presses adoring kisses against the top of your head. “We’re going to be parents,” he whispers against your hair, the corners of his mouth turning up into a smile.

“Yeah,” you mumble into his chest as fresh tears of joy roll down your cheeks. “We are.”

Kix watches the adorable display and sighs happily. It’s not every day a clone trooper makes a baby and he knows he’s going to have his hands full with your prenatal care. He chuckles to himself as he thinks about what the rest of the pregnancy is going to look like and if Fives will be able to survive it. However, something is nagging at the back of his mind and he can’t quite put his finger on it. But then his thoughts are interrupted by the sound of you retching. Oh, yeah.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize to Kix. You are mortified at what you just did. It was so involuntary that you didn’t have any time to find somewhere else to let it all out.

Kix shakes his head and sighs as he gets up from the medical stool. “Don’t worry. I’ll get an orderly to clean it up.”

“Can you get me something to wear while you’re at it?” Fives requests as he looks down at his vomit-covered clothes.

“Might as well get used to it now,” Kix waves dismissively as he leaves the room.

“Sorry,” you apologize again while looking up at him in embarrassment. “I forgot how bad you smell.”

“This is going to be a long 280 rotations,” Fives sighs while pulling off his soiled shirt.

“It might get better, right?” you encourage while trying to offer some optimism into the bleak situation.

“I hope so,” Fives agrees, but he has a sinking feeling it won’t be that easy.

Chapter 1

Masterlist

A03

Tag List: @nahoney22 @commander-sunshine @kixs-husband

Join my taglist HERE

Tip me a tea on Ko-fi HERE

120 notes · View notes