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ambrosiagourmet · 4 days

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Hey, Kabru and Mithrun spend some interesting time together, don't they?

With Mithrun having just officially premiered in the anime, and a lot of discussions swirling around about him, I've been thinking a lot about that section of the story quite a bit. These chapters - Roasted Walking Mushroom and 6 Days - are some of my favorites. For a lot of reasons, really. Not only are they are a huge turning point for the story as a whole, but they have some excellent character work, and represent an important shift in Kabru and Mithrun's individual arcs and relationship to each other.

The chapters are also kind of a fully contained story arc just on their own, which is an impressive bit of writing, and makes them super fun to analyze. So that's exactly what I'm going to do!

This will be structured as a close reading of chapters 61 & 62, with some asides for additional important context. I'm going to talk a little bit about a reading that I disagree with, but for the most part I just want to focus on how Kabru and Mithrun's relationship progresses during these two chapters. In particular, the ways they both grow from the time they spend together.

Also I just want to quickly note that this isn't written as Ship Content. It's meant to be an analysis of their relationship as presented in the text - layer whatever additional meanings and filters on top of that as you'd like, but please respect that my intent is not to talk about or champion a ship, or frame any of this content as romantic.

So, with that all being said:

How do Kabru and Mithrun help each other?

First of all, I think there are two important pieces of context that inform the Kabru & Mithrun Dungeon Adventure chapters. Both are related to Kabru's state of mind, and both are set up before or during the chapters in question.

The first is the context of what happened just before Kabru and Mithrun fell into the dungeon. Specifically, the events that led Kabru to make them fall.

Kabru, essentially, gives up his life at the end of chapter 55. When he stops Mithrun, and when they both plummet with the collapse of the first floor, he is okay with dying. Mithrun warns him that they will both die if Kabru doesn't let him go, and Kabru accepts this as a worthwhile exchange.

Why?

Well, because he doesn't want the elves to take over the dungeon. Throughout the last 3 chapters, the Canaries have been effective, but they have also been cruel in their efficiency, and they have made it clear that they don't care about collateral damage. They lured people into the dungeon specifically to provoke a violent reaction from it, without regard for who might get hurt by the violence.

What's more, they are keeping important information from Kabru, and he knows it.

He's not just looking for a solution, he's looking for the truth - a truth that he believes that he will only find through conquering the dungeon. With good reason, to be fair! The elves make it very clear that they aren't there to treat the other races on the Island as equals.

So Kabru uses the only tool he has available to him - his own life. It won't get him the truth, but it at least gives a chance for another person from a short-life species (namely, Laios) to earn it in his place.

This dovetails nicely with the more thematic context that's introduced in at the start of chapter 61: the room where he could eat all the cake he wanted.

This place, a place that Kabru never wants to go back to, is a place where he is safe, and a place where he is ignorant. A place where he is sheltered from danger, but also from the truth. The same place the Island would become, if the Canaries had their way. He doesn't just want to be safe, and he doesn't even just want the world to be safe, though he does want to be able to protect people from what happened in Utaya.

But he doesn't just want to entrust that safety to the paternalism of the elves (especially since he is all too aware of the ways they can fail, or the people they are willing to sacrifice in the name of that "safety"). He wants to be given the agency to seek safety and peace for himself.

He wants to understand. And he wants the chance to act.

This is the context we have, going into the arc of 61 & 62. But before I talk about how the chapters build on this context, I want to take a step back and look at what else the chapters establish early on, before delving into their exploration of Kabru's agency.

First of all, I kind of want to challenge the framing of Kabru and Mithrun's relationship as solely that of a caretaker and his charge.

Obviously, Kabru is forced into a caretaker position - at the threat of his friend's safety, no less. (Okay, it's actually Toshiro and Namari that are being held, but still. There are hostages involved in this) But I do think it's important that Mithrun isn't the one who puts Kabru in this position - Cithis is.

Before this conversation, Kabru and Mithrun are already exploring the dungeon together. Mithrun doesn't threaten Kabru, or force his hand. He kind of just assumes that Kabru will join him. It's rude, and not particularly respectful, but given the dangers of navigating a dungeon alone, I don't think that's really an unreasonable assumption. And it certainly isn't the same as Cithis' approach.

If they were left alone with no intervention, they probably would have ended up in a similar position to the one that Cithis leveraged them into. Kabru is smart, and he could have figured out the things that Mithrun needed help with. And, to be clear, those are things that Mithrun needs help with not because he is selfish or thinks they are owed to him, but because he is disabled. It's not unreasonable for him to need that help, and it's not unreasonable for Kabru to provide it, under the circumstances.

Besides, they both need each other down there. Kabru wouldn't have survived without Mithrun - he doesn't know enough about monsters, and isn't familiar with the deeper dungeon's layout. And Mithrun wouldn't survive without Kabru - he isn't able to notice his basic needs and would burn himself out without food or rest, making him an easy target for the monsters he could otherwise take care of on his own.

Aside from both needing each other, another interesting layer to their relationship, which is established right away, is that Kabru doesn't have to - and literally cannot - put on a mask of social niceties around Mithrun. He can't suck up. It doesn't work.

So Kabru, who spends so much of his time concerned with how others perceive him, and who compromises his own comfort in order to become the most appealing version of himself at any given time, has that tool taken away. He has to help Mithrun, but notably, he can only help Mithrun to a certain point. He cannot compromise his open and honest feelings to help maintain someone else's view of the world - or at very least, it doesn't benefit him at all to do so.

Instead, they sit together, in the same position, share the same shitty mushroom dinner, because they both have to:

And that's notable, too. They both have to. Cithis' demand is most specific about the need to eat. Three meals a day! But this is something they both need, not just Mithrun.

Still, their relationship at this point still isn't exactly supportive, or even respectful. Kabru may have realized that he didn't need to keep up an act around Mithrun, but ya know, he still turns around an immediately try to, with that shitty mushroom dinner.

(The 'badly drawn shapeshift Kabru' gag here isn't just funny, imo, it's also a reminder of the thing he JUST LEARNED. Mithrun is immune to the Kabru smile anime sparkles filter.)

Mithrun also doesn't tell Kabru any helpful information at this point, and doesn't really put much effort into helping him at all. He slaps him awake out of a Nightmare, and treats him with the same disregard he did at the start of the chapter, focused entirely on moving ahead.

But then Mithrun collapses, and the current structure of their relationship collapses with him.

I think it's interesting here that the shift in their dynamic also includes Mithrun explicitly noticing Kabru's desires. Obviously it's not actually like some kind of I truly see you and recognize your humanity moment shared between them, but I do still like the way that it pulls Kabru's internal wants to the surface. Kabru not voicing his desires doesn't mean they don't exist, and Mithrun recognizes that the same way the dungeon does.

And then Mithrun does, in fact, grant one of Kabru's deepest desires. He tells Kabru the truth.

Just like how they are working together in the first place, this truth is as much a necessary concession to survival as anything. But that doesn't mean it's not impactful for Kabru. This is the thing that every other elf in his life has kept from him. A secret foundational to his core belief that long-life and short-life species can never come to mutual understanding.

And Mithrun isn't just giving him the bare minimum information here. What he shares isn't just a truth, it's his truth. It's a level of complete and total vulnerability that few people share with each other. And again - some of this may just be coincidence and necessity. I imagine Mithrun is so open, at least in part, because he doesn't have the same barriers that other people do when it comes to sharing these things.

But, then again... we see Mithrun at his most vulnerable and empathetic when he is talking to dungeon lords & potential dungeon lords, and trying to convey to them the truth of the trap they are walking into.

This face:

Is very similar to this face:

These are some of the few instances that we see Mithrun emote in this way, and his story does come just after he notices the dungeon responding to Kabru's desires.

But, no matter if Mithrun's openness is in response to Kabru being tangled in the dungeon's hunger, or just part of his nature (or, maybe, a little of both), his story changes things for Kabru. It gives him the chance to make actual choices, now that he understands the truth. It gives him a chance at agency in the story.

And he immediately turns around and uses some of that agency in an interesting way:

When asked about why he can't sleep, Mithrun says he needs to be magically compelled. Being magicked to sleep is simple, and it is efficient, but he doesn't even just say it's the best option. He seems to believe it is the only option.

So much in Mithrun's recovery has been framed through how it will let him fight the demon. Recover so that you can return to the dungeon. Sleep so that you can return to the dungeon. Eat so that you can return to the dungeon.

But rest, much like eating, isn't just about achieving the bare minimum required for efficiency. And as Senshi would probably say, the easiest path isn't always the best.

I don't think that the Canaries are intentionally running Mithrun ragged or anything, but as I mentioned earlier, they are very focused on efficiency, with little thought spared to what is lost or hurt in the process.

And there is something different about Mithrun's time with Kabru in the dungeon. Lycion even notes it, when they finally connect back up.

I don't think it's a huge leap to say that how Mithrun falls asleep here is emblematic of that difference. When Kabru helps Mithrun to sleep by massaging his feet, rather then using magic, he is explicitly taking a step beyond the minimum. He is providing comfort to a body that has been given only necessities for a long, long time.

These two events - Mithrun sharing the truth of the dungeon with Kabru, and Kabru choosing to help Mithrun to sleep through a foot massage - shift their relationship. There's a clear difference in how we see them treat each other, and especially in how Mithrun treats Kabru.

Before, Kabru provides food that he has gathered himself (okay, it was a mushroom he put his foot through on floor one, but the point still stands that Mithrun offered no help at all with getting food).

Afterwards, they gather food together.

Before, Mithrun teleports Kabru towards a monster, using him as a weapon when he can't find anything else.

Afterwards, he helps Kabru escape monsters, and fights them directly.

Before, he slaps Kabru awake after 5 hours of uncomfortable, Nightmare-filled sleep. A rest which, notably, Kabru didn't even intend to take for himself.

Afterwards, we see Mithrun keeping watch while Kabru sleeps in a bedroll.

I don't necessarily think that all of these things are choices that Mithrun consciously makes. Like, after 6 days, Kabru would have to get some actual sleep eventually, and Mithrun would pretty obviously have to keep watching during that time.

Nonetheless, there's still a difference in how these scenes are framed, and the fact that it is these things that are used to portray their journey together. Kabru is not the sole person providing food and sleep and safety - they provide these things for each other. Kabru eats alongside Mithrun, hunts alongside Mithrun, and he sleeps in the same way we see Mithrun sleep, laying down and resting deeply enough to be groggy when woken up.

What's more, during their time together, there are even a couple of instances of Kabru being more willing to care for himself and accept care. The sleeping is one example - note how he is surprised at having slept "that long" when told he was asleep for less than even the minimum recommended amount of nightly sleep - but I think the pattern of his eating is even clearer. In making sure that Mithrun eats regularly, he is forced to eat regularly too.

And I especially like the progression with the Barometz meal. After Mithrun has fallen asleep, Kabru thinks about wanting to "give [Mithrun] something nice to eat," but also notes that Mithrun's lack of desire "means there isn't even anything he wants to eat." So what does Kabru do?

He makes Mithrun something that he wants to eat.

I've already talked a bit about the ways that Dungeon Meshi depicts people finding support through "borrowing" the desires of the people who care for them, and I think this scene is a great example of that idea. Especially in the way that it pulls an expression of desire from Kabru, who is so prone to ignore his own hunger and needs. The meal may not end up anywhere close to the flavor intended, but it's still a far cry from the roasted walking mushroom.

All of these pieces come together at the end of chapter 62, resulting in a pivotal choice that could only happen because of the ways Kabru and Mithrun have, at least a little bit, grown closer to each other.

As they are preparing to leave, Kabru hears a bell ringing in the dungeon, just as he hears Toshiro's matching bell on the other side of the portal. Realizing Laios is nearby, Kabru hesitates. He knows the truth about the demon, and how he has a chance to act on it.

Cithis, the person who extorted Kabru into taking care of Mithrun in the first place, pushes for Mithrun to follow along with the plan.

(okay a quick aside here I just want to say I do love Cithis and I'm not trying to bash on her here. I just think it's interesting that she is the one to establish the terms of Mithrun & Kabru's cooperation, as well as the one who tells Mithrun to leave the dungeon at the end of the chapter)

But Mithrun doesn't go along with her command. Instead, he does something unexpected:

He asks what Kabru wants to do.

In contrast to Milsiril's smothering comfort,

and in contrast to his Mithrun's own assumption that Kabru will follow him, when they first wake up in the dungeon,

Mithrun follows Kabru's lead.

This, right here, is the change between them. Not only that, but it's a shift in the entire balance of agency in the dungeon. For what might be the first time in a very long time, Kabru - a tall-man - knows the truth, and is acting on it. He makes a huge decision purely on his own judgement. He is not trying to appease or coerce anyone, and he doesn't win Mithrun over by hiding his true intentions.

Rather, it's the honesty between them that builds to this moment. Mithrun's honesty earns Kabru's trust, and Kabru's honesty earns Mithrun's respect. They bond not because they are forced to spend time together, but because they choose to spend that time giving each other more than the bare minimum - even when they are both people used to accepting the bare minimum.

It echoes Laios' argument with Toshiro, in a way. They eat three square meals a day (Cithis mandated admittedly), they get plenty of sleep, and in doing these things, they take each other seriously. They treat each other as more than just a means to an end.

I don't necessarily think it's a flawless, unbreakable bond that's built during this time - hell, they both kind of revert back to their old behavior, once reunited with the rest of the Canaries. People don't completely change their habits overnight, after all.

But it is a shift. It's a shift that gives Kabru the chance to steer the story towards the ending he has fought for all his life, and it's a shift that helps Mithrun find a way to move forward after he loses his own reason for living. They reach their goals, and then they step past them - facing life beyond the moments they thought defined their reasons for living. Facing life beyond the bare minimum.

And that is how they help each other.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #kabru of utaya #mithrun of the house of kerensil #dungeon meshi spoilers #dunmeshi analysis

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sassypossumm · 18 days

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Well Loved

Clearly the trailer did something to me.... or more specifically Aemond...

Sharing a tender moment with the One-Eyed prince

[MDNI]

"I'm going to do something I've wanted to do for a long time." Kissing his shoulder, you pressed him back into the mattress.

"What's that?" Aemond breathed, the smirk on his face easily giving way, the words catching in his throat as your lips trailed slowly over his flushed skin.

Leaning back, you pushed his hair off his forehead and admired his blown out pupil and labored breathing.

You'd done that.

Smiling softly, you kissed the corner of his eye, your own heart stuttering when his lashes grazed your lips. Turning his face with gentle fingers, you closed your eyes and sucked his bottom lip between your teeth and nipped the tender skin, shoshinsa him when he groaned.

"I'm going to make love to you." Ameond tensed, and you saw the battle being waged behind his eye. His brows pinched and he opened his mouth to protest, but you beat him to it, eagerly sucking the hesitation off of his tongue.

Quickly replacing any reticence with a little piece of your soul, willing him to surrender to the ribbons of pleasure weaving and winding betwixt you, binding your bodies and souls beneath the silken sheets.

Your lungs were on fire, protesting against the passion, but you willed them to burn in silence. In that moment you cared little if you suffocated, if you died, you'd die with Aemond Targaryen's lips on yours.

Running your hand down his chest, you fanned your fingers over his thundering heart and moaned into his mouth. There were no words in that purple haze.

You didn't need words when his arms braced around you so tightly, when he groaned so eagerly for you. What words could tell you what his body had so plainly told you time after time?

Tearimg your lips away from his, you buried your face in his neck and drew ragged breaths. Your fingernails dug into the skin over his heart, and your own heart sang with his growled hiss. Aemond's fingers tangled in yoir hair, and you whined when he sank his teeth into your neck.

"ñuha jorrāeliarzy." Aemond rasped, sucking at the stinging mark at your neck. Your fingers clawed at his skin, ripping g a groan from his chest. Gripping your throat and jaw, he turned your fa e so your foreheads touched.

It was hard to tell who's breath was who's, but that didn't seem to matter. Your noses brushed, then met, your eyes so close you could see the deep violet flecks swimming in his fiery eye.

"Let me make love to you." You breathed. He was so quiet you couldn't be certain he'd heard you. Then, he shook his head. Before you could make a sound, Aemond flipped you over, and pinned you to the mattress with his weight. Pinning your wrists above your head with one capable hand, he ground his cock between your thighs and nuzzled your pulse.

"You don't seem to realize, ñuha jorrāeliarzy," your heart stalled as his teeth grazed your thrumming pulse, "that you make love to me everyday." He murmured, his lips leaving a trail of fire down your chest. Pausing he gave you a seering look and mouthed at the swell of your breast as he plucked at your nipple.

Drawing your breast to his mouth, he sucked lazily. Your back arched off the mattress, and you moaned his name. Giving the pert bud a final teasing kiss, Aemond laced his fingers through yours and notched the head of his cock at your fluttering entrance.

"And I am very well loved."

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen smut #hotd fanfic #hotd aemond

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maidragoste · 6 months

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Chapter Two: A United Front

The Hunger Games AU

Katniss!Jacaerys x Peeta!Reader

Chapter One Chapter Three

First of all, thank you very much for all the support that the first chapter had! It made me really happy to see every comment and reblog, it really motivated me to continue writing 🥰🥰

Please let me know again what you thought of this chapter in the comments, as always, likes and reblogs are appreciated too 💖💖

My inbox is open so I'm always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Jacaerys was irritated. Firstly, because it is evident that you had already begun to play in front of the cameras since when you two arrived at the train station you did not bother to hide your tears, you probably thought that perhaps this way you could get a sponsor or else your strategy was to show yourself weak and like an easy prey to later fight in the arena. That's what Sabitha Vypren, from District 7, had done in her games.

The second reason for his irritation was his uncle. Larys hadn't said a word to him since before the Repair or even now that they were on the train heading to the Capitol. This was supposed to be the time for them to prepare strategies together, for Larys to give them advice on surviving the arena, but his uncle seemed more focused on enjoying the pork chops and mashed potatoes. Jacaerys was also eating, he was ready to eat everything he could to gain the most muscle mass before the games started, but now and then he would stop and stare at Larys hoping that at some point his uncle would decide to speak.

“So, what do we have to do for Jacaerys to win?” you asked, breaking the silence and making him choke.

You were the first to react, you quickly got up and started hitting him on the back until he finally spit out the piece of meat. Effie looked at him with disgust.

"Are you okay?" you asked, looking at him with concern and now caressing his back. Jacaerys noticed how his uncle looked at the two of them with interest. He had no idea why, neither of you two had done anything extraordinary, he made a fool of himself by choking and you ran to save him…Well, I had to admit that your action was striking, someone else would have let him die by drowning to have one less competitor in the arena, not only that but you just said that you wanted to help him win. It didn't make sense… Unless it was another strategy to gain his trust only to then stab him in the back in the arena.

"I'm fine," Jacaerys responded, putting his hand on your arm to stop your caresses. You blushed and moved away from him as if you had been burned by his touch. “What do you mean by that you said earlier?” he asked you once you sat back down.

"You have a chance to win, Jacaerys," you declared as if it were obvious. Evidently, he couldn't hide his confusion because you continued talking "You know how to hunt and you have good aim. Every time my father buys you squirrels he says that the arrow always hits the eye, you never ruin the body" the boy felt the heat rise to his face at your words and he was sure he was blushing because suddenly you seemed to be stopping yourself from smiling. "So if either of us has a chance of winning it's you. I'll probably be one of the first to die but I think I can be of help in the interview" you said the last thing looking at Larys.

Jacaerys felt his appetite disappear. It didn't sit well with him to hear you talk as if you were already resigned to dying. "She's got a good right hook," he said, looking at his uncle. He couldn't let Larys give up on you quickly, if you lost his interest then he surely wouldn't bother trying to help you win. "Lucerys told me. She hit a boy who was bothering him and gave that idiot a black eye."

"Jacaerys, I won't be able to win just by hitting people. Besides, there are surely tributes even bigger than that boy, they will attack me before I can even land a hit on him."

For a moment he had the image of an unknown tribute mercilessly attacking you with a sword before you had the chance to defend yourself. His stomach fluttered at the image of your broken body.

"You, on the other hand, can attack from afar with your bow. If you hide well you can have an advantage" you continued and went back to eating without realizing that your companion was looking at you with a frown.

Your attitude was irritating him. You should have been trying to impress Larys by saying what other things you can do but instead, you keep talking about him. It did not make sense. It had to be a strategy or maybe you were thinking it was a lost cause to try to win the games by having him as a district partner and his uncle as his mentor. You probably believed that Larys would choose to put all the chips on him just because he was his nephew. That made him furious.

"She can lift weights. I saw her lifting sacks of flour"

You suddenly dropped the cutlery sharply on the table. "Enough, Jacaerys," the annoyance was evident on your face and in your voice. "Don't try to make me feel good just out of pity, please. I know I'm going to lose. Everyone knows that." "You made a gesture with your hand to let you continue talking when you saw him open his mouth." Do you know what my mother told me when she came to say goodbye to me? There may finally be another winner in 12. She wasn't talking about me" you said looking into his eyes.

Everyone knew that your mother was a witch but Jacaerys never imagined that she would be one with her own daughter. It was cruel to tell you that when perhaps it could be her last talk. She should have faith in you. Or at least give you the benefit of the doubt. He wanted to comfort you but he had no idea what to say. Besides, he didn't think his uncle would be happy if he saw him being nice to you. He would tell her that he was weak and that he didn't come here to make friends.

So Jace settled for looking into your eyes, hoping that you could somehow understand that he didn't want you to give up.

"Oh, darling, that's horrible," Effie said, breaking the tension between the two of you, placing a hand on her heart, she seemed genuinely moved. "I think you should try hard to win and prove your mother wrong."

You didn't say anything, you just gave a sad smile to the district escort. A moment ago Jacaerys felt bad for you but now he can't help but think that maybe you only told your last conversation with your mother to gain Effie's sympathy and get her to talk about you to her friends in the Capitol. He hated analyzing everything you did but he couldn't let his guard down with you if he wanted to go home to his brothers. He was sure that if Lucerys was with him and could see what was going on in her mind he would tell him that he was being paranoid. But maybe it wasn't wrong for him to doubt you, Jace thought when he noticed that Uncle Larys seemed to be evaluating you with his gaze.

“Let's start to see who his competitors are,” Larys finally spoke, ending the dinner.

Jacaerys was relieved to see that your stylist had put you in an outfit just like his, at least if he ended up making a fool of himself at the parade he wouldn't be the only one. You're wearing the same shiny leather boots and the same full-length black leotard with the cloak that flutters in the wind. The only difference between the two of you was that your suit seemed closer to your body, highlighting your curves.

As you are taken to the lower level of the Renewal Center, Portia, your stylist, along with her team can't stop talking excitedly about what a sensation you two will be. Cinna, Jacaerys' stylist who came up with the idea of setting their outfits on fire, seems tired of the congratulations. Jace couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he, too, was nervous that it wouldn't work and would end with them dead. You didn't look nervous, which shouldn't surprise him considering you were probably used to fire since he worked at the bakery.

Once they arrive, they basically find a giant stable. The opening ceremony is about to begin so the stylists are having their tributes ride into carriages pulled by a group of horses. Cinna and Portia lead you and Jacaerys to their carriage, both of them carefully arranging the posture of the two of your bodies and your cloaks before stepping aside to talk something between themselves.

“What do you think of the fire?” Jacaerys asked you in a whisper. He tells himself that he's just talking to you to distract himself from his nerves.

“At least we're not naked,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders. Jacaerys grimaces as he remembers those poor tributes who had to parade naked covered in black dust. It had happened years before his uncle became a victor, the only reason why everyone knew about that incident was because whenever the games approached on television they did a recap of the best kills, the best dressed as well as the worst deaths and the worst dresses. In the latter, those poor tributes always appeared.

“Uncle Larys definitely wouldn't have let that happen. He probably would have hit them with his cane as soon as they told him that idea,” Jace said with a small smile as he imagined his uncle hitting the stylists and scolding them. You must have imagined the same thing too because you started laughing. Your laughter was contagious so he soon joined you, feeling his nerves disappear for a moment as well as the heaviness in his shoulders. Cinna and Portia will probably be upset that you two lost your posture but neither you nor Jacaerys seemed worried about it.

"If something goes wrong I promise to take out your cloak while you take out mine," you said trying to get serious again but from the corner of your lips, it was evident that you wanted to smile.

"Deal," he agreed with a small smile.

Jace's calm demeanor disappeared the moment he saw his uncle. He tensed as he watched him walk towards the carriage, ready to feel his eyes judging him and scolding him for acting like a child. His uncle was right to be angry, now the other tributes would see them as weak and stupid.

"I want you to present yourself as a united front," Larys said, surprising his nephew.

"What?"

"If you want to win then you have to do everything I say" the mentor reminded them "So you will go out, hold hands, and greet the audience" In his tone of voice there was no room for discussion but Jacaerys had many questions. He couldn't do any of them because when started playing the opening music Larys headed for the exit.

"Come on, don't look so upset. It's not like I have scabies," you nudged him. If he hadn't been focused on seeing the tributes from District 1 in his glowing robes then he would have noticed how the sparkle in your eyes seemed to have dimmed.

It's not many minutes before you and Jacaerys are near the doors. As the District 11 tributes leave, Cinna appears with a torch. You and Jace don't have time to back away when the stylist turns on both of your cloaks. The three of them sigh in relief when they see that it worked.

“Remember head up and smile. Oh, don't forget the most important thing, hold hands. They're going to love you!" Cinna quickly tells them before getting out of the carriage.

Jacaerys hesitates before taking your left hand. Unlike him, you don't hesitate to intertwine your fingers with his. You give him one last smile before his carriage enters the city. The crowd seems alarmed at first when they see the fire but then they soon begin shouting both their names. Jace can't help but feel overwhelmed by the feeling of everyone's eyes on him so he focuses on staring at the screen. For a moment he is breathless, the two of you look wonderful, especially you look brilliant as you wave and blow kisses to the crowd. In the low light of twilight, the fire illuminates both of your faces and your cloaks seem to leave a trail of flames behind. Cinna got what he wanted and gave you both a chance, no one would forget about you two, you really made a sensation.

You squeeze Jacaerys's hand and remind him under your breath to “Smile.”

Then he tries his best to give his best smile and starts greeting you. Someone among all these people must have wanted to sponsor him. This was an excellent opportunity to win over the audience and he had to take advantage of it. He remembers the words of his uncle Larys, so he raises their joined hands, making the screams increase even more. When they enter the City Circle they lower their hands but neither you nor Jace try to let go. During President Snow's speech, Jacaerys is distracted by feeling you caress his skin with your thumb, he tries not to think about it too much, he tells himself that you must be nervous and you do it unconsciously. Luckily it doesn't take long for the national anthem to be heard and the carriages travel around the circle for the last time. Jacaerys notices that the screens seem to show you two more than the other tributes.

He finishes confirming that it was not his imagination once you arrive at the Training Center and get off your carriages. As Cinna and Portia remove their cloaks, you and Jacaerys notice the angry glances of the other tributes, especially Royce Baratheon, the burly boy from District 2 who volunteered, and his district partner Agatha Durrandon.

Jace notices that the two of you are still holding hands so he lets you go.

"The flames suit you well and you have a beautiful smile" you declared with a smile making him blush.

THG taglist: @valeskafics @agqrtz @cookielovesbook-akie @klara-lily @husherstan @427120lxld @justhereiguess2 @salmonella22 @hanversace @xmagik @crazylokonugget

Taglist for all my House of the Dragon works

@chaotic-fangirl-blog @venus-flytrap3 @ajordan2020 @iloveallmyboys @sweethoneyblossom1 @fudge13 @crystal-faith @tita004 @ichanelvxgue @snowprincesa1

@joyouart @rosey1981 @alastorhazbin @papichulo120627 @apollonshootafar @jasminecosmic99 @diorchaiamet @partypoison00 @camy85

@rebelliuna @bxdbxtxh15 @impartinghades @targaryenmoony @thegirlnextdoorssister @angeliod @snh96 @aleemendoza2425-blog @lizlovecraft @natashaobo

@watercolorskyy @nyenye @savagemickey03 @kishie8 @ewwwitsel @arabis-world @nzygftoji @alisoncdariel @partnerincrime0

If you want to be part of my taglist

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izartn · 1 month

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The way in Charles death scene, Edwin is talking about how ghosts don't really experience the world with their senses, they can't really touch things, etc. (bc charles is about to die and he wants him to be prepared, Edwin oh boy)

And Charles immediatly answers. I'd miss kissing. Do you? And Edwin can't answer because he died without one, because he was gay and unable to even admit it to himself due to the time and place he was born into.

(how charles mind goes there so quickly, to an act of love, pleasure, warmth so different from what he has to be feeling right now)

The way Charles has that makeout session with Crystal and then tells all giddy to Edwin that he didn't really felt it physically but mentally it was good. He hasn't lost kissing after all even if it's different than if he were still alive. My god.

Charles is so very emotional and I bet when he was alive, also very much in touch with his body, for good or bad. It breaks my heart; he misses being alive, he wants to kiss and date. He's never going to last with Crystal because she's alive, but he's enjoying while it lasts. He's going to spent all his death and beyond with Edwin and one of the first conversations they had while he was dying was that he was going to miss kissing. He answers with wht is basically a not yet the love confession.

How does desire works for ghosts that don't have a physical body? It seems like the mind and the romantic attraction take the lead. (It's like the software for physical attraction is there even if the hardware is missing. Ghosts willing their bodies to act as the living do).

It's the way kisses are important to both of them in season 1, both as something never had before (Edwin) and something to miss and long for (Charles). When they kiss if we have a season 2 (or even 3 though I hope hey take pity and have them kissing in season 2 if it's greenlighted on light of Netflix sudden cancelations) I'm going to scream to my TV.

They're already together for what matters but the romantic/kissing aspect is clearly important for both of the so I'm just. Gripping my hands on the sofa thinking about them having that with each other.

#my thoughts #dead boy detectives #edwin payne #charles rowland #payneland #DBD meta #meta

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enhagvrl · 17 days

Text

en- when their words upset you

a/n: consider this a small experiment as I want to see which members grasp the most attention. since I'm aware some of the people here are die hard solo stands. also a small spoiler in Jake's part about another draft of mine planning to be posted in june 👀

rest: 02z pocketz fifaz

jay

“ as if anyone would be willing to listen to your constant chatter”

If someone were to share any secret with you, it would somehow get out of your mouth without your knowledge. You were the chatterbox friend who never knew of a surprise or event, until you were at the place. This led you to have trust issues with everyone and also be insecure about yourself. Over the years, you practised how to keep your mouth shut and not start yapping at any given occasion. That’s when you met Jay, the only person who never hated you for yapping his ears out - he was always sitting there with a small smile on his face listening to every single word coming out of your mouth. You always thought he was the one for you, and that he loved your continuous random talks. But now you were doubting that, that maybe you had been annoying him all this time and he did not want to tell you that just to not hurt your feelings.

You got quiet as you continued stirring the soup, and the sudden silence did not go unnoticed by Jay. He gave you a side eye trying to figure out what happened, but seeing your expressionless face he just concluded that you were trying to focus on cooking.

Later that evening, both your guys' parents came over for a monthly catch up and meeting with each other. The night went very quickly, with everyone enjoying the evening with each other - everyone except you. Jay was quick to catch on though, noticing you had not uttered 10 proper words since you guys were preparing the dinner.

After your parents said their goodbyes for the night, the house again went quiet - the both of you cleaning up. Jay tried coming close to you but you would only get away from him to throw away the garbage or clean up this soup stain on the table.

“Baby, is something bothering you? You have not even opened your mouth for the last three hours. You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m always ready to hear you out.” he said, blocking your way by standing in front of you and trapping you in a corner.

You could only scoff at his statement. Pushing him out of the way, you went to do your night routine and took your pillows and an extra blanket, making yourself a comfortable sleeping palace in the living room like kids do, except this one was not for playing.

Jay could only watch you silently, and breathed a frustrated sigh realising he might have done or said something and that you needed some time to yourself. He went back to your guys’ bedroom - going over all his words and events of the day to figure out what he did wrong. Sleep far away from him.

jake

“You can’t even walk properly without stumbling over yourself. What makes you think you can play soccer?”

Being the girl who grew up with a father who regularly watched F1 races and other sports on the television, you had always loved playing sports and being active on the field. You were aware there were a few things you cannot be good at but it did not hurt to try them out, did it? Well certainly it did not before those words left your boyfriend’s mouth.

“Huh?” was all you could let out, trying to clean the dirt on your knees you got from falling due to your open shoe laces.

Jake only scoffed in return and rolled the ball along with him, going over to the goal post and scoring a goal. You could only watch him, sitting on the field. After a quick two minutes of just trying to register his words in your word, you also let out a sarcastic smirk and got up from the ground and walked towards the benches.

“Ay ay, were you not going to score a goal right now? Let’s gaur! The bet on the ice cream still stands, you know that right?” Jake uttered excitedly, running up to you and passing the ball towards you.

“Not anymore. I’m tired. Let’s go back, I’ll buy us the ice cream.” You said, getting ready to leave the field, leaving Jake all confused with his lips pulled into a small pout and his eyes big with confusion and worry on your sudden change of demeanour. He could only watch silently, as you packed up your towels and shoes, swinging the bag on your shoulders and walking towards the exit, not sparing a glance behind to see if the puppy-looking boy is coming along or not.

sunghoon

“ let me fcking breathe for a moment now, will you.”

You had one issue - too many interests. Not being able to decide what to do at what time. There are just so many things in the world and it would be a shame if you don’t experience those things at least once in your lifetime. You never tried to be good at whatever you were doing, just doing it for the thrill and fun. Sunghoon knew this - despite being the big introvert you are, you liked living your life to the fullest not giving a damn about anyone else, even though people would always be surprised or doubting you at times.

You were telling Sunghoon about how you had booked a ticket to this wonderful bungee jumping place next week for you guys since he had just gotten back from a tour and you guys finally had some time to spend together.

“ i mean we could book a pretty lodging somewhere and just stay indoors-” “ can’t we just stay at our own house for a second, gaddamnit. Why do we even have a roof over our heads if we aren’t staying in it for five seconds also.” he interrupted your sentence before you could even complete it.

Hearing this, you realised you might have just crossed the line. Saying these words, Sunghoon turned towards his side - going to get the much needed sleep and rest he yearned for so long after god knows how many months of those tiring concerts and travel.

You could only look at his back, thoughts flooding your mind and self doubt creeping up on you as you closed your eyes to drift off to dreamland - making a mental note about cancelling the trip and spending bonding time with your boyfriend.

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen fics #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen drabbles #enhypen imagines #enhypen jake #enhypen jay #park sunghoon #sim jaeyun #park jongseong #enhypen angst #kpop fics #kpop angst #angst

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aphroditelovesu · 15 days

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Heyaaaa, how are you, babe? Can we have a Yan!Platonic Nico di Angelo and Yan!Platonic!Percy Jackson with a daughter of Poseidon ‘reader’ (aka Ayane Ishikawa my OC XD), pretty please? They discussing who would be the best big bro to Ayane lol 🥺🥺

❝ 💀 — lady l: hii, babe! I hope you like it. It's a little short and very soft yandere, but it's more focused on their relationship, which, by the way, I'd love to hear you describe! 👀

❝tw: none, i think? just fluff and very soft yandere.

❝🌊pairing: platonic yandere!nico di angelo, platonic yandere!percy jackson x daughter of poseidon!reader.

❝word count: 850.

You loved your brothers. You really did. Percy was always protective and the comical relief you needed sometimes and Nico was sweet and protective of you too, but he was less controlling than Percy.

You sometimes found it funny how they were always fighting over you. Percy was really your brother but you considered Nico as your brother too. The son of Hades became attached to you the moment you, Percy, Annabeth and Thalia found him with Bianca at that school. His protectiveness only increased after his sister's death.

You loved them deeply. You would be willing to die and kill for them and you knew the feeling was mutual. But sometimes.... They were a little too much to deal with and you liked having a moment alone, something that since your arrival at Camp Half-Blood had become almost impossible.

You remembered your first day at Camp Half-Blood. Percy was excited to show you everything, from Thalia's Pine Tree to the Big House. Nico, on the other hand, seemed more reserved when you first met, but you knew he was only concerned about ensuring your safety. The first days were full of adventures and discoveries, but also a lot of responsibilities and hard training.

There were days when everything seemed like a whirlwind. The missions, the training, the council meetings... Percy and Nico were always by your side, but sometimes, you missed a moment of peace. A moment of your own.

One afternoon, after a particularly grueling workout, you decided you needed some time to yourself. Leaving a simple note for Percy and Nico – "I'm fine. I need some time alone. I'll be back soon." – you ventured out of Poseidon's cabin. You walked into the forest near the camp, a place where the sounds of nature offered a welcome solace from the chaos of the camp.

You found a small clearing, lit by the afternoon sun. You sat down on a fallen log, taking a deep breath and letting the calm surroundings wash over you. It was the first time in weeks that you could hear your own thoughts.

The only company was the dryads and some satyrs looking for these dryads. You smiled as a dryad waved at you and turned into an oak tree.

As you were lost in your reflections, remembering peaceful moments before your life turned into a whirlwind of battles and quests, conflicts with gods, and your relationship with your divine father, you heard a faint rustling in the leaves. You looked around, your heart racing a little, but you relaxed when you saw that it was just a curious squirrel. You just hoped your brothers weren't spying on you like they had many times before.

Time passed quickly, and before you knew it, the sun began to set. You knew it was time to go back. Although you loved your brothers and the camp, you knew that these moments of solitude were essential to maintaining your sanity. You stood up, feeling refreshed and ready to face whatever came next. And you knew that what would come next would be a whirlwind of questions from your brothers.

When you returned to the cabin, Percy and Nico were waiting for you, with mixed expressions of concern and relief. Percy was the first to speak, ''Are you okay?! We were worried.''

You smiled as you saw the concern in Percy and Nico's eyes, and realized how much they truly loved you, "I'm fine, really.'' You replied, trying to reassure them. ''I just needed some time to think.''

Percy sighed, clearly relieved. "We understand, but next time, give a little more notice, okay? We almost set up a search of the entire camp."

Nico, who had remained silent, finally spoke up, ''We know you need time for yourself, but you're important to us too. We want to make sure you're safe.'' There was an intensity in his voice that showed how seriously he took his responsibility to protect you and you knew that this responsibility, this protection came from a pain that he would always keep within himself.

You nodded, understanding their concern, ''I know, and I appreciate that. I promise I'll let you know better next time.''

As if there will be a next time.

That night, instead of going out for another training session, the three of you decided to spend time together, just talking and laughing. Percy told funny stories about his first days at Camp Half-Blood, while Nico, a little more reserved, shared some memories of his childhood with Bianca.

You loved them and you knew it. But they tended to become increasingly overprotective when you decided to leave without warning. They hated it when you did that. Were you that naive? The camp might be safe but they didn't trust the other demigods and gods. Nico and Percy that night, after you fell asleep, made an oath to each other.

You wouldn't go out alone anymore. And they would be sure that you would obey that. It's not like you really have a choice.

#percy jackson #pjo #yandere percy jackson #x reader #yandere nico di angelo #platonic yandere #yandere percy jackson x reader #yandere nico di angelo x reader #nico di angelo x reader #percy jackson x reader #imagine #yandere imagine #percy jackson and the olympians #platonic #yandere pjo

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unbidden-yidden · 3 months

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Ever since October 7th, the amount of misinformation and disinformation about Jews, Israel, Judaism, and even just like, basic facts about reality have been so intense that it's really dredging up a lot of my gaslighting trauma.

(No, not in the memic sense that it's been distorted into, but the kind of gaslighting that leads you to detransition and think it was your choice despite drowning in dysphoria, the kind that warps and changes and erases memories, and makes it so that you dissociate for literal months at a time to escape the pain. That kind.)

And I recognized this because I keep finding myself arguing facts and trying to reason with people who say that they're part of the compassionate left and care about working on antisemitism but yet spew the kind of antisemitism that would be totally at home on Stormfront.

It's that first arguing stage of gaslighting, where the abuser keeps saying outrageous, untrue things and you're still fighting to try and get them to empathize with you and seek mutual understanding. This:

A gaslighter does not simply need to be right. He or she also needs for you to believe that they are right. In stage 1, you know that they are being ridiculous, but you argue anyways. You argue for hours, without resolution. You argue over things that shouldn’t be up for debate — your feelings, your opinions, your experience of the world. You argue because you need to be right, you need to be understood, or you need to get their approval. In stage 1, you still believe yourself, but you also unwittingly put that belief up for debate.

(bolding mine) (source)

This is a pattern I recognize in myself in personal relationships and even within communities, but what's happening right now is a lot bigger and more diffuse. It's not one abuser or even a shitty cohort of abusive people who are monopolizing a community space. This is being encouraged in a frighteningly large number of non-Jewish progressive spaces. In the same way that stochastic terrorism adds up very quickly, this type of cultural gaslighting and stochastic emotional abuse feels like a deluge.

But if you look at history, this is not new, for Jews. This is but the latest version of a very long game of Why Won't You Just Give Up and Assimilate or Die that Jews have thus far prevailed on at great cost to ourselves.

Anyway I'm done arguing with goyim about things that absolutely should not be up for debate: Jewish history, Jewish culture, what certain religious concepts in Judaism mean, Jewish lived experiences, what is and isn't antisemitism. If you aren't willing to engage in a genuine way that seeks mutual understanding, I'm not interested. I'm done.

You are engaging in violent behavior and lying to yourself about it and calling it activism. Well I am no longer going to participate. You can lie to yourself all you want, but you are a bad person and I don't forgive you, and you can do that alone.

You are acting from a mob mentality and a mob cannot be reasoned with. You are drunk on your tiny bit of power and social capital, and years down the line you'll lie to yourself and pretend that you cared about us.

You didn't. And deep down you know it, too.

Instead of arguing with people who refuse to see facts or reason and put our experiences up for debate, I am going to work on compiling a resource for people who want to actually learn.

Everyone else can fuck off.

#fuck around on this post and find out

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deangirlsstuff67 · 1 year

Text

Sorry... Not Sorry

Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Smoking, Male masterbation, Drug and Booze use, Fingering, P in V, Unprotected sex, Orgasm denial, Dirty talk, Language

Summary: You work with the boys to fulfill Butchers mission. Your family, like MM's, were killed by Soldier Boy. The only difference, you aren't mad about it. Your family was terrible and you constantly suffered at their hands. When you all find Soldier Boy, you offer to be his babysitter, only your attraction for the older supe might be too strong to fight.

Masterlist | Patreon

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

He escaped you in Russia, only to track him to The Legend's house. You aren't a supe so for the most part you hang back when they go fight. Butcher always had a soft spot for you.

When it comes to Soldier Boy however, you willing volunteered to babysit the nuclear powered superhero. Everyone was reluctant at first. You're the youngest of the group, but you weren't backing down. Not this time.

Eventually Butcher agreed, which led you here. Some old man's house who wants to relive the glory days. Any other day I would pretend to listen, just not today. I am on a mission.

I walk towards the room The Legend informed me he would be in. Whatever I was expecting to find on the other side of the door, orgy, some chick giving him head, was not what I found.

His back was facing the door when I opened the handle. Wildly designed silk robe hiding his body from my lust filled eyes. Leg proped up on the bed frame. His whole body moving as he grunts from the pleasure his hand was providing his dick.

A very well endowed dick if I remember Russia correctly.

My body begins to heat, my underwear quickly becoming damp from my own private show, breathing coming in fast shallow pants.

Forgetting he had super hearing, Soldier Boy rips a surprised gasp from me when he speaks into the quiet room, "I can practically smell your sopping cunt from here Pretty Girl."

He doesn't turn or even stop his movements. Though you do notice he has slowed to a lazy rhythm. No longer chasing a quick orgasm.

Closing the door behind you you take one step at a time towards the powerful man infront of you. A man who I'm positive can spit me in half with one powerful thrusts into my heat.

Oh what a way to die.

By now you're standing right behind him fighting the urge to touch him. In a blink of an eye he swings around to come face to face with me.

We are in the middle of a staring contest. Him wondering my next move. Me wondering if I even have the nerve to follow through with anything.

Now or never I guess. This is one way to thank him for saving me. I know he hurt a lot of people and is the ultimate asshole, but to me he's a hero.

With a wave of bravery rushing through my veins, I step up and wrap my hand around his huge cock. My tiny hand barely touching as I begin to slide it up and down his shaft.

Soldier Boy throws his head back from the contact. Long, messy hair shining as te sun hits him just right. What I wouldn't give to run my fingers through it. I know I've got him when I hear a deep moan leave his kissable lips.

"Been a long time since a beauty such as yourself has touched me, Doll."

I still can't speak. His husky voice drips of honey when he's aroused, eye's that were once shining green are now hooded and black with lust. The man's beautiful on any given day, but when he's in a stage of bliss, he's breathtaking.

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

Strong, long, thick fingers move rapidly inside me as Soldier Boy brings me to the edge again. Pistoling straight into my g spot repeatedly.

"You're stunning when you're fucked out and frustrated, Doll." He removes his fingers from my soaked core, bringing them to his mouth before sucking them clean. My pussy clenching around nothing.

"Mmm... taste sweet." Rolling on top of his naked body I rub my wet center up his length while sinking my tongue into his mouth. Stunned for a moment from surprise before he begins to kiss me back... hard.

Breaking away I lift my body and grab his leaking cock before impaling myself on his perfect dick.

I was right, he's going to split me in half. It burns as he stretches me to my limit. Never had a cock this good. I can feel every vein as I slipped farther down his shaft.

Bottoming out I stay still waiting for my body to adjust. Feeling my velvet walls flutter around him as they fight to accept his size. He shifts slightly sending electricity shooting through my body, another wave of arousal soaks his dick.

"Soldier Boy..."

Laughing he leans up, wrapping a strong arm protectively around my waist as he kisses me sweetly. "Sweetheart I'm balls deep in your sopping cunt right now, pretty sure you can call me Ben." Then he thrusts into me, hitting my cervix.

"Ben..." is all I can moan as he takes control of my body.

"That’s my Pretty Girl. Scream it baby, my names never sounded so sweet before."

His pace quickens sending me into my first orgasm. Clenching him so tight I'm amazed he can still move as he fucks me through it. "Squeezing my cock so good."

Ben watches where our bodies are join, "this pussy is drooling Doll. Making such a pretty mess of my dick." I tighten around him, "oh fuck yes..."

"Got one more in there for me baby girl." It wasn't a question. He brings his rough hands to my bundle of nerves and starts to vigorously rub me there.

My orgasm build fast and hard. Just as I'm think I'm about to be thrown over the edge a new sensation comes over me, "shit... Ben you have to st.. stop. I.. I think I'm go.. going to pee."

He doesn't listen. If anything the statement makes him feral as he double downs his efforts. Then it happens. My body let's go, vision goes white as I scream his name as loud as I can before slumping into his chest.

What feels like hours goes by, but I'm sure it's minutes, before I feel someone gently finger my pussy. Whimpering I hear a dark chuckle beside me.

"That was fucking hot Doll." Ben holds me to his chest as he lazily plays with my pussy and our mess, "I'm far from done with you, sleep for now."

"You should have known better than to try and tease me. Best damn pussy I've had... just might have to keep you now." He gently bites my ear lope.

Through my blessed out haze I weakly smile before whispering, "Sorry... not sorry."

I fall asleep in his warm embrace with his laughter as my lullaby and his fingers bringing small waves of pleasure every once in a while.

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

Taglist:

@syrma-sensei

#soldier boy #the boys tv #jensen ackles #soldier boy smut #the boys smut #the boys s3 #the boys season 3 #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys fanfic

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sunnybeewriting · 1 year

Text

peachy keen.

Hi guys! So I'm pretty new to writing and this is actually the biggest thing I’ve ever written. I watched The Way of Water when it came out and took an immediate interest in this guy, partially because I thought his character has a lot of potential, and partially because I also thought that he was really hot.

So I decided to set up a series of little works. This one is just sort of a beginning to the Reader’s character and Quaritch, and I do plan on writing more about them in the future with this fic as their base. Maybe do some AU’s, maybe just continue the story from here, maybe lead into the movie, who knows!

That all said, I really, really hope you like it! If you do, please give it a like or a comment!

WORDS: 15,000

WARNINGS: Adult themes and language

peachy keen. Part Two.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Your body jerks to a stop just before you can fully trip over your shoelace and faceplant onto the floor. Unfortunately, the leftover food on your plate could not say the same, jostled just enough that it went flying from your hands and onto the tiled floor of the mess hall.

You lean down quickly to clean it up, scooping the food with your fingers and back onto the plate as best you can. You succeed only halfway, goop just smearing across the floor and onto your hand.

You stare at the mess you made, ears and cheeks burning as you hear snickers of cruel amusement coming from some military meatheads a few feet behind you.

You jump up quickly, making sure to avoid your shoelace so you don’t trip on it again and embarrass yourself any further. You hurry to the counter holding the utensils, mugs, and paper towels, tugging several brown napkins out of the dispenser sitting on top. You take a deep breath to calm yourself.

Kneeling down so soon after sleeping for six years in a cyropod made the muscles in your legs and shoulders ache, but you do it anyways. You wipe up the mess as best you can, piling the dirty napkins onto the plate and dumping it all into a nearby trashcan. You wish the ground would swallow you up.

You aren’t usually so embarrassed by such a small mistake, but it had been a rough past couple of days for you. You had landed at Bridgehead City just a few days ago, and you had felt immediately overwhelmed by the extreme size of the fortress.

It took the RDA fifteen years to return to Pandora, but when they did, they made sure to put in roots. Bridgehead City was an enormous structure, constantly building upon itself and hosting thousands of military combatants, engineers, skel suits, construction robots, anything that was thought of to build and maintain humanity’s last stronghold. Every person of every imagined career was here, working as one like bees and ants had once done for their queens a hundred years ago, before they had both gone extinct.

Bridgehead was terrifying to look at for the first time, seeing in person exactly how far humanity was willing to go to force itself onto another planet. You had noticed that it almost looked like a parasite, contrasting in color and material against the lively, glowing rainforest that surrounded it just past the barren land of the Kill Zone.

The wave of information that hit you the moment you stepped off the ship was almost enough to make your excitement to be on Pandora wither and die, but you held onto it with shaky, desperate hands.

Luckily for you, it wasn’t long before your enthusiasm bounced back and you met your new colleagues. Most of them had been just as nervous as you, clearly uncertain and overwhelmed. Knowing you weren’t alone made you relax just slightly. They were scientists hand-picked by the RDA as test subjects for re-opening the Avatar program, just like you.

None of you were really sure why the program had been stopped in the first place. The RDA was very quiet about what had happened all those years ago, when most of their military and scientists had been sent fleeing from Pandora with nothing but the clothes on their backs and tails between their legs. They refused to issue many statements, insisting that a minor misunderstanding had occurred with the ‘natives’ of the planet, and they’d be back soon enough to continue their mission.

The RDA had stated that the main reason for discounting the Avatar program was because the cost outweighed any benefit. The only reason they were allowing a few lucky souls to come to Pandora as Avatars was simply as a favor to the scientific community, and as a test to see if the Avatar program should be reinstated. Now the main purpose behind the program is to see if it’s worth it for people to be able to travel around Pandora without having to worry about the environmental protection systems, than a way to make peace with the Na’vi.

Most of the scientists in the base were only allowed restricted access to information regarding the past and current situation with the Na’vi, only knowing that The People were no longer accepting of humans on their planet and that the military is now on constant high alert. Most of the remaining records were classified to you, although you did try to learn as much as you could about what was happening on Pandora. Unfortunately, the RDA was very strict with that information, and you never found anything that mentioned the Na’vi or what happened fifteen years ago.

The ten members of the new Avatar program had been divided into two parts of five, just to make the introductions and sessions easier. You had met your three new acquaintances, eager to make some friends. They had introduced themselves; Emma, a small, shy woman who preferred observing rather than participating; James, a sweet, handsome young man; and David, an older man in his late fifties who seemed a bit too haughty for his own good.

Your group was shown to your individual rooms over on the west side of Bridgehead, far away from the landing pads and ships you had arrived on. Your new room was small and gray with concrete walls and a thin layering of carpet covering the cold floors. You had a small desk that sat underneath a suction-locked window that let you glimpse into an enclosure full of construction robots, but at least the light it let in was nice. There was a simple cot in the corner and a mirror as the only piece of décor on the walls, but it was yours, a place you could call your own.

You had grinned tiredly and fallen face down on your bed without bothering to take off your shoes. You slept for fourteen hours, and when you awoke you felt as though you were rising from the dead, hair wild and mouth fuzzy. After you brushed your teeth, showered, got dressed in clean clothes, and ate food for the first time in six years, you felt like a brand-new person.

And here you are now, in the mess hall, already making a fool of yourself on your second week.

You quickly rush back to your table and plop your behind into the seat you had vacated to throw away your plate, sitting across from Emma and David. Emma is poking at her food, face pale and gloomy. David is almost done with his own dinner, glasses perched on his nose as he reads from a holotablet.

Geesh. These guys certainly weren’t known for being the life of the party back home.

Maybe they just need some more time to adjust? I know I certainly fucking do.

You take a moment to bend down and tie your shoelace, double knotting it, not wanting to cause any more scenes.

When you sit back up in your chair and make eye contact with Emma, your lopsided, embarrassed smile falls from your face when she simply stares back at you, clearly uneasy for some reason you can’t name.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking clumsy. And why the fuck does it look like you’re all attending a funeral over here?” The voice that chimes up behind you lifts your mood exponentially, and you turn around in your seat to greet the approaching form of the last member of your group and your best friend with a happy grin.

You had met Margot a few months before your trip to Pandora when you both attended a required conference that would discuss certain parts of living in Bridgehead. The second you struck up a conversation with her, it was like meeting your long-lost sister. You had instantly clicked, getting on like a house on fire and scarcely spending a day away from each other.

James arrives at the table with her, holding his own plate. He gives you a comforting look, clearly sympathetic to your embarrassment.

“Hey Margot, James! You saw that, huh?” you ask sheepishly, shoulders raising to your ears as you feel a hot flash of mortification all over again.

“Uh, yeah, honey, I saw. I’m pretty sure half the cafeteria watched you nearly eat shit. You need to learn to tie your shoes better, babe.” Margot’s voice is just as loud as ever, and her bright blonde hair and tall figure aren’t exactly subtle, either.

She was the type of person to grab someone’s attention and refuse to let it go, manicured nails digging in deep. Well, her nails used to be manicured. Now they were just as plain as everyone else’s.

She takes a seat in the empty chair next to you, setting her own plate down with a clatter. She untucks her cheap silverware from the napkin and digs into her dinner, eating hurriedly like someone is about to snatch the plate away from her. You had once asked her why she never slowed down to enjoy her food, and she said that with eight siblings if you wanted any food, you needed to eat it like an animal.

James takes the other empty seat next to you, patting your shoulder twice before saying, “It’s okay, I don’t think that many people saw.”

You smile weakly at his attempt to make you feel better. It doesn’t help much, but you appreciate the thought, “Thanks, James.”

He nods and moves his attention to his plate.

Your table is silent for a few moments, everyone lost in their own thoughts and tasks.

You break the silence when you nervously ask, “So. Anybody else freaking out at the thought of linking up for the first time or is it just me?”

David looks up, paying attention to your words for the first time since you met him. “Well, I’m not nervous because I did all the pre-linking sessions and training years ago.” His nose is practically raised in the air.

You stare at him.

What a fucking douchebag. Who answers a question like that?

“That’s nice. What about you, Emma, are you nervous or excited? How are you feeling?” you ask gingerly, wanting to include her in the conversation. It would be nice to have another friend so that the next few years weren’t miserable.

Emma stares at you blankly, and then whispers a simple, “No.”

You lean back in your seat and deflate. “Oh.”

Fuck it, I tried.

Margot, the smug bitch, is watching you drown in social awkwardness as she happily munches away. You give her a look and a shrug, and she rolls her eyes before placing her fork down on the table. She dabs the corner of her mouth with her napkin, and then says to Emma, “Girl, I absolutely love that bracelet you’re wearing. Where did you get it?”

To your surprise, Emma perks up in her seat, right hand grazing the bracelet she wore on her left wrist. Her face softens, and she says, “It was my mom’s, actually.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet. Right?” Margot jabs her sharp elbow into your side, and you hiss but nod hurriedly.

“Yes, that is so sweet! I wear my mom’s wedding ring, actually.” You rub said ring with your hand. Your mood drops a little bit at the mention of your mother, but you shake your head to get back on track. “Makes me feel closer to her, I suppose.”

A small smile pulls on Emma’s cheeks, and she looks down, still rubbing the bracelet. “Yeah.”

You look at her, reconsidering your thoughts about her personality.

Maybe it just takes a little time to connect, that’s all.

You fiddle with the small, emerald cut ring that you were on the ring finger of your right hand. It had been a piece of jewelry your mother had worn faithfully until the day she died.

When you were a child, around ten or eleven years old, you had asked her why your dad had chosen that specific ring to represent their marriage, out of the hundreds of others he could have.

She was still sick at the time, spending most of her days laying in a hospital bed while nurses bustled in and out. She had lost so much weight that her cheeks were gaunt, and her face and hands were so white they were almost transparent, pale blue veins clear through the skin.

Her lips were pale and chapped, and the dark circles around her eyes were deeply imprinted in her skin like bruises. She looked like a ghost, a fragile, terrifying imitation of the woman who had raised you, a woman who you had thought put the stars themselves into the sky. She was weak, and even before she passed away it was like she was already dead.

She had gripped your hand as tightly as she could when you had asked that question, sweaty palm squeezing yours to the point of pain in a rare show of strength. She was usually so weak the nurses and you had to feed her by hand as she could barely lift up her arms. She looked you in the eye and pulled you close until your face was right next to hers.

In the croak that had now become her voice, she whispered, “I had asked the same question, years after he had proposed. I asked, ‘Jonathon, why this ring? Why this cut, why this color?’. And he had gripped me tightly and pulled me close and said, ‘Well, my love, it’s the breathtaking green color of your eyes. Your eyes and the ring match exactly, you see. And every time you look at it, you will see yourself the way I see you. Beautiful and bright.’

Tears had filled her glazed eyes, and she whispered to you, “No matter what, when you find the one you love, never let them go. Cherish every single second you have with them, never take them for granted, and make sure that they love you for everything that you are, the good and the bad. It is the purpose of our life. Love. Without it, we are nothing.” Against the tears and the agony that claimed her face and voice, your mother smiled for the first time in years.

Your father had passed away while your mother was still pregnant, killed in an easily avoidable accident. No matter how much your mother loved you before she had gotten sick, no matter how much joy you brought to her life, there was always a deep sorrow and grief inside her that consumed her soul every day.

She never got over your father, never dated or remarried or showed the barest hint of interest in anyone else. When asked why, she said that she had already had the love of her life, and there was no one who could ever compare to even the lingering ghost of your father that seemed to haunt her.

And when the sickness truly hit and reduced her to almost nothing, her anger and bitterness twisted her mind and her love for you into something cruel and abhorrent.

Even years later you kept her whispered words locked away into the very muscles of your heart. Even though your mother had been sick and weak when she told you these things, it was one of your few beloved moments with her. It had shown you who your mother really was, past all the sickness and malice, who she really was deep in her soul. That she had once loved and been loved.

And now you wear her wedding ring as a reminder of your parent’s love for each other, and how regardless of your mother’s cruelty toward you during the last years of her life, your love for her would never fade.

You’re jerked out of your melancholy thoughts when Margot burps loudly and thumps a fist against her chest.

“Jesus Christ, Margot. Where the fuck did you learn your manners from?” James asks, recoiling in disgust.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m almost done, then we can go check out the linking center.”

You nod eagerly, so overwhelmed with anticipation and delight that your fingers tremor just slightly.

You are so ready to meet your Avatar and link up for the first time, but the thought of anything going wrong makes you restless. You wish you could just get it over with so you could stop agonizing over it.

Margot finally finishes her food and stands up to dump her plate. James does the same, and then all five of you are off, walking down a long hallway with lots of twists and turns. The fluorescent lights shine brightly on the ceiling, and you can hear the distant sounds of never-ending construction.

Even with all five of you working together to get to your destination, the new buildings are too much for your group and you get lost in the labyrinth of hallways. James even has to ask a nearby custodian for directions once or twice. When you turn a corner, you spot a bathroom sign, and suddenly you have business to take care of. You pat Margot’s arm and point in that direction.

“Hey, guys, I’m going to head to the bathroom real quick. I’ll meet you there, okay?”

The rest of the group nods, but Margot decides to go with you. You do your business and you’re washing your hands in the sink when Margot makes eye contact with you through the mirror as she washes her own hands.

“I won’t lie, honey, I’m feeling pretty nervous about linking up as well. I know we’ve been through training simulations and have studied and practiced for years, but this is going to be different.” Her face and voice are uncharacteristically serious, and her hands shake just slightly as she pulls a towel out of the dispenser to dry her hands.

You feel a flash of sympathy for your friend, stopping your own drying. You walk around to her and put your hands on her shoulders, leaning your face close to hers.

“It’ll be okay, Margot, we’ve both got this. We just need to do it, and then it’ll be as easy as breathing before we know it, okay?”

Margot nods and takes a deep breath, looking down for a moment. When she looks up she’s much calmer, and her usual peppy attitude is back and shining.

“Thanks, sugar.”

You nod understandingly, releasing her shoulders and knocking her hip with yours as you walk toward the bathroom door. You both step outside into the hallway and continue your way.

“Of course. And besides, I’m just so ready to finally see her, you know? We’ve seen pictures and videos, but actually being there in real life is going to feel so surreal. The Na’vi are just stunning to me. Ooh, I almost forgot!”

You stop walking as you talk, scientist-brain taking over. Margot moves to stand in front of you, crossing her arms over her chest with an amused expression. This was far from the first time you had gone on a tangent.

“I saw someone from the recombinant unit when I was walking around yesterday, and he was fucking huge!”

You’re so busy trying to organize your thought flow into something sensible that you completely miss the approaching footsteps coming from behind you, and the way Margot looks over your shoulder and turns white.

You continue on, oblivious.

“He must have been pretty high ranking because the people with him followed him around like little ducklings. And the blue pigment of his skin was so beautiful. The color contrast of his eyes versus his skin kind of reminded me of a Primula ‘Zebra Blue’, you know, that blue and golden flower that went extinct like a hundred years ago? It was just amazing to finally see in person, and I-”

“Well, aren’t you just a peach?”

The deep voice that comes from behind you nearly makes you jump out of your skin. You whirl around, expecting to come face to face with whomever just spoke. Instead, you come eye level with the belt buckle and zipper of a pair of navy green camo military pants.

Your heart drops to your shoes.

You tilt your head up, up, up, until it’s practically craning backward. The uncomfortable position hurts, but that’s the least of your problems.

Your biggest problem, literally and figuratively, is the cold eyes and carefully amused face of the man you were just talking about.

You open your mouth to speak but words refuse to leave.

Why does this shit always happen to me?

You clamp your mouth shut when no words appear and swallow nervously, and the man notices your tense expression.

He smirks down at you, almost sneering. From the way he towers over you closely, unconcerned with personal space, it’s clear that this man likes to have people’s attention on him, takes pleasure in scaring people with his massive height and muscles.

And his intimidation tactics completely work on you, that’s for sure.

Jesus, look at his hands. He could cover my entire face and upper torso with just one of them!

You want to put as much distance between this frightening man and yourself as possible. But there’s a little voice in the back of your head, a stupid, too-curious little voice, that want you to examine him all the way from the finger pads and palm lines of his hands to the tip of his tail.

He was terrifying, yes, but you are also stunned by the wonderful science and technology that made up his body.

Of course, you’d seen holographs and pictures of Avatars and the Na’vi people, but they could never hold a candle to the real thing.

The navy green tank top, tattoo, and dog tags were all familiar things, but his height and the bright, smooth blue color of his skin were brand-new to you, something you wanted to take a closer look at. His hair was shaved closer to his skull than any other you’d seen, Avatar and Na’vi alike.

His bright yellow eyes sear into yours, and it feels like he is trying to see into your fucking soul.

Your heart rate skyrockets, mortified and thrilled and fearful all at once. The pile of extreme emotions twists your stomach, making you queasy.

Do not fucking puke on his shoes.

The man takes a step back to make room for his massive arm before he lifts it up, clearly holding his hand between you for a handshake. It almost seems as though he is testing your nerve; you wonder how many people had chosen not to shake his hand, too frightened.

“The name’s Colonel Quaritch, pleasure to meet you. What’s your name.” It’s a demand more than a question.

You look up at his face again before quickly wiping your hands on your lab coat to get rid of any sweat. You grab onto his hand as best as you can with your own, and holy shit.

His hand engulfs your own minuscule one and part of your forearm, his fingers reaching almost all the way to your elbow. And the skin of his hand is surprisingly soft; he doesn’t have as many calluses as you thought a marine would, but that might be because his Avatar body is fairly new. You tell him your name, and say,

“Uh, sorry, sir! I’m a xenobotanist from the science division, I got here about two weeks ago!” Your voice is squeaky and louder than you want it to be, making you cringe. You barely remember to shake his hand as you speak other than simply hold it in your own.

He continues to stare at you, wicked smile only growing when you say you’re a scientist.

“Ah, you tree-huggers are officially back, then. Part of the ‘newly instated Avatar program’, right?”

“Uh, y-yes, sir. That’s us.” You laugh weakly.

He barely twitches the fingers of the hand still holding your own, but the strength that comes from them is enough to make his grip almost painful.

“Hmmm. Well, I’m real curious to see how long you and your friend last before Pandora eats you alive. Just as a friendly warnin’, you should be real careful about what you say and who you say it about ‘round here. Guess I’ll be seein’ you. Peach.”

Your knees weaken and you nod hurriedly.

He finally releases your hand, gives you one last cold, golden look, and continues on his way. His bare arm brushes your shoulder as he passes you, and it’s enough to make you shiver.

He’s gone in just a few seconds, but you stay rooted in your spot, staring at the floor. You’re wondering if he’s going to come back and shank you with the wicked knife you’d seen strapped to his thigh when a hand gently presses against your shoulder.

You leap into the air for the second time that day, hand slamming into your chest and breath coming out in a gasp as you realize it’s just Margot. You’d completely forgotten she was even there, too consumed with the encompassing presence of Colonel Quaritch.

You look at her, eyes wide and mouth gaping. Margot returns your stunned look, face paler than you’ve ever seen it before.

“Holy. Fucking. Shit. You have the worst luck out of anyone I’ve ever met in my entire life. What the fuck just happened?”

You gulp. “I’m pretty sure that a terrifying man who wouldn’t hesitate to gut me overheard me practically gushing about him?”

She nods. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You stand there, practically swaying on your feet. “Oh my god, he fucking hates me! Did you see the look on his face? Oh my god, why is this happening? I’m never going to able to leave my room again!”

You bury your face into your hands, suddenly exhausted. First the mess hall, now this? Why couldn’t you just not embarrass yourself for once?

Margot pats your shoulder as you groan. “There, there. It’s alright, all you have to do is avoid him for the rest of your life. If you don’t, I’m pretty sure the next time you see him he’ll either just ignore you or kill you for saying all that stuff about him, and then you won’t have to worry about it anymore!”

“But I didn’t even mean it in a bad way! I was just describing him, the same way I do with all unknown subjects.”

Margot winces. “Uh, yeah, I would definitely not tell him that.”

------

You feel like whining as you finally continue walking to the linking center. After all that, the excitement you had felt at meeting your Avatar had almost completely disappeared. Now, the only thing you wanted to do was crawl back to your room and hide underneath your blankets forever.

But Margot pulls on your hand and ignores your childish wishes. When you arrive, she practically has to push you into the room.

And then every single thing, all of your hard work, the training, the learning, even the awkwardness of that day, was suddenly all worth it when you saw her for the first time.

She was curled up in the tank, cords attached to her body and eyes moving behind her closed lids. She floated gently around in the liquid that surrounded her, sometimes twitching a limb as she slept on.

You approach the tank, mind blank and mouth dry. As you get closer, you can see the details of her face, your face, just shifted into the feline-like features of a Na’vi.

She stole the breath straight from your lungs.

And that was how you spent the next few weeks, gazing at her slash yourself. Eventually, the time came for the first linkup, and everything went well, just like you had told Margot.

You spent the next month linking into your Avatar and wandering around the facilities, checking your reflexes and consuming everything Pandora had to offer while still in the confined space of Bridgehead City.

The disorientation from linking was enough to make you lay in a cot for an half an hour each time, too dizzy to move much. It’s such a bizarre feeling, suddenly being so much taller than everything else, and you are so much stronger than you are as a human.

It took a long time to remember your strength, and you accidentally put dents into a metal door handle when you grabbed it, squeezing it much harder than you meant to. The tiny little humans helping you gave you a pretty wide berth after that, only approaching when necessary.

You practiced using your new body, walking around without sitting on your long-haired queue or stepping on your new tail, which flailed around with a mind of its own. You liked to press your tongue to your sharp canines and look at the swaying tendrils attached to your hair.

It was an exhausting, thrilling process, and you loved every second of it.

None of the new Avatars had yet to actually leave Bridgehead and go into the forest yet. It would probably take a few more weeks for that to happen, and even then, you would probably only be allowed into the tree line past the Kill Zone.

Still, you eagerly look forward to that day, barely able to contain yourself in your excitement. It’s all you can think of day and night, and even in your dreams. On that day, you would be accomplishing so much more than a lifelong goal.

Now, your group is relaxing in one of the lounges used for breaks, discussing your experience with linking and Pandora. It was something you’d been talking about for the past few hours, the past few weeks, really. It wasn’t like any of you had very much in common with each other, other than your careers and education, but you were trying to dig a little deeper to learn more about these people.

The only problem was they were more antisocial than not, which was almost to be expected by a bunch of scientists. They were also hesitant to speak much about their past. You were the same way. They probably wouldn’t be here if they had a very pleasant past filled with lots of people they wanted to stay with back home.

You eat the small bag of crackers you’d snagged from one of the vending machines lining the gray walls of the room, hoping that the tiny treat will hold you until your next meal. The chair you are leaning back in creaks dangerously and wobbles, but you hold your precarious position, feet pulled up and crossed on the table in front of you.

Your mind wanders as the chatter of the group drifts in and out of your ears. You think of nothing in particular, dazing out of focus, simply relaxing for once.

That peace is shattered when James leaps from his chair further down the table where he and Emma sit. They’re playing an old-fashioned card game; one you’ve never heard of before. When you asked James where he learned it from, he said his great-grandfather had taught it to him. Something called ‘Go Fish’.

James raises his arms above his head in apparent victory, grinning fiercely.

“That’s round three for me, Emma!”

Emma is giggling behind her hand, cheeks flushed a bright pink. She keeps her eyes on James as he playfully postures at winning, and the sight of her joy makes you grin.

You look across the table at Margot and wiggle your eyebrows. She laughs quietly, nodding in agreement.

Sweet Emma and James. You’re almost surprised that they developed such an obvious, big fat crush on each other out of all people, given that their personalities are so different.

Maybe opposites really do attract?

Whatever the reason may be, you hope your friends find happiness in one another. The world could certainly do with more love.

Margot scoffs in disgust and curls her lip at her empty plate, apparently already over the tooth-rotting sweetness that was Emma and James.

She throws down her silverware onto the table and leans back in her chair, pout firm on her face.

“The food here is ass! You’d think a multi-trillion-dollar company would be able to feed its employees with something other than more fucking oatmeal. I’m so damn tired of oatmeal! It’s been most of our meals for the past month!”

“The supply shipment is late, you know that.” Is all you say. There is nothing to gain from arguing with Margot when she gets into one of these hungry moods.

“Then they need to make it un-late and bring me my fucking muffins!”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that ‘un-late’ isn’t even a word, but I do agree with you. Oatmeal reserves are getting pretty old.”

Margot nods vigorously, leaning forward and placing her hands on the table.

“Coup? Coup? Anybody interested?”

You throw back your head and laugh, “Margot, we’re not going throw a coup just because there aren’t any muffins! I thought you had saved a bunch of snacks the last time this happened?”

Margot deflates. “I ate them all already and the vending machines are out of my favorites!”

“Oh, Margot.”

“I know! Somebody just put me out of my misery.” She plants her face into her crossed arms on the table, moping.

“You know, you always complain about the food here, Margot, but that never seems to stop you from scarfing it down,” James says, putting himself into your conversation. He sits in his chair still, shuffling the deck of cards as he smirks at Margot.

“I have to eat it, it’s the only thing they have here!”

You open your mouth to say something, only to pause when a big blue hand reaches around the curve of the open doorway like something out of a horror movie. You sit there, gaping, as Colonel Quaritch crouches down through the opening and steps into the break room.

Margot, James, and Emma see your startled face and turn to see what you’re looking at. When they see Quaritch, they all lurch out of their seats to stand up straight. The cards Emma and James were playing with go flying all over the table and the ground, and Margot nearly knocks her plate off the table.

Quaritch straightens up and stands, several feet taller than any of you. He rests his hand on the holster of the belt wrapped around his trim waistline and practically cocks his hip as he looks directly at you.

You’re still sitting, cracker packet now crushed to a pulp in your right hand. When he looks at you, you finally jolt up to your feet. You dust off the cracker crumbs from your shirt as best you can, anxiety filling you.

“S-Sir!”

What the hell is he doing here!?

He saunters into the room until he’s standing by the table, just a few feet from you. You crane your head up to look at him, baffled and worried.

“Is there…anything you need, sir?” You can’t help the way your eyebrows scrunch up as you ask, clearly confused.

He stares down at you, head tilting to the side as if pondering something. Eventually, he speaks.

“Walk with me.”

And then he turns on his heel and ducks out of the room as quickly as he had entered. You stand, frozen, turning a bewildered stare to your group of friends. They stare back at you, just as perplexed, until Margot urges you to follow him with a push of her hand on your back.

You get your limbs to move and start walking after him, exiting the break room and finding him waiting. Once he sees you’re following after him, he continues walking down the hallway without a word.

The silence is almost uncomfortable as you walk several hallway lengths away from the lounge to some unknown destination. You’re almost tempted to break it to ask where the hell he’s taking you, but fear of his biting words keeps your mouth shut.

His legs are so long that his stride is practically jogging for you, and you have to speed walk so you don’t get left behind. He notices you struggling but doesn’t slow down one bit. In fact, the bastard smirks meanly at your frustration and funny walking pace.

You scowl at his amusement but refuse to say a word.

Finally, Quaritch stops in front of an enormous metal door, and he takes a key from his pocket and twists it into the lock on the doorknob. He opens it and walks in, and then gestures for you to do the same with an impatient wave of his hand.

You hurriedly scuttle in, freaking out even more. If he’s taking you to his office then he must have something serious to talk about, right? Was he going to punish you for what you said, was he going to yell at you, threaten you? You’re practically sweating, fingers twisting as your imagination goes wild.

You take a moment to break out of your thoughts and look around.

You pause.

You stand in the middle of the room, eyes locked onto one thing and one thing only: the large bed laying flush up against the corner of the space.

Who keeps a bed in their office? Is the first thing that comes to your mind. Confusion rushes through you and you look around the room, taking in the closet doors, the large desk tucked into the corner across the room parallel to the bed, the empty walls just as barren as your own room.

Your own room.

Ohmygod I’m in his room. Why would he bring me to his room!?

You whirl around, and Quaritch is standing so close to you that your face nearly smacks into his crotch.

You leap backward with a yelp and jump when Quaritch barks out a loud, unfriendly laugh and then sneers at you.

“I would’ve taken you to my office before, but it seems I don’t have one of those anymore. So, this’ll have to do.”

Confusion layered with frustration comes back to you, and your eyebrows furrow. “Do for what, sir?” You barely remember to tack on the ‘sir’ at the end of your sentence.

His face suddenly breaks out into a sharp-toothed grin, and he leans back, smug once more. You were really starting to get tired of that expression.

“I have a… proposition, for you.”

You barely refrain from turning a wide-eyed, horrified look at the bed.

Under any other circumstance, if a man had taken you to his bedroom and said he was propositioning you, you would be real worried. Red flags would pop up in your brain, mind demanding you flee fast.

But these aren’t normal circumstances, given that one of his arms alone is almost as big as your body. And you didn’t really get the impression that was something he was looking for right now, so you shake your head to get rid of any crude thoughts. You refuse to lower your guard, though, still uneasy.

“Uh, a proposition, sir?”

“Yes. You see, I’m under the firm belief that to destroy your enemies, you have to think like ‘em, be like ‘em. Kill like ‘em, eat like ‘em, shit like ‘em, that sorta thing.”

He takes a step closer and you take one back.

“And if I want to have even a snowball’s chance in hell of finding Jake Sully and the rest of the natives, I’m going to need to put myself in their shoes, metaphorically speaking. But most of the people here are military, marines, people with no knowledge of the Na’vi except how best to kill ‘em.”

“So. Who best to teach me how to be Na’vi other than one of the soft-hearted, limp-dicked scientists who just eats up Na’vi shit like it’s Mamma’s home-baked cookies?”

His yellow eyes burn into yours.

“One specific little scientist came to mind, you see, when I was thinkin’.”

You knew it was coming, but that doesn’t stop you from blanching. You shove a finger in your chest and point at yourself like an idiot.

“Me?”

Quaritch finally leans back, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, you.”

You sputter, mind going a thousand miles per hour.

“But-but, I’m not even an anthropologist, sir! I study foreign plant and-and animal life! Emma, she is the one in anthropology, you should talk to her!”

Quaritch scoffs.

“Emma Rodrigo can barely string a sentence together without pissin’ her pants, let alone teach me to do anythin’.” He crosses his arms over his chest, muscles bulging. His wicked teeth glint in the fluorescent lighting as he grins.

“Nah, I think it outta be you. Peach.”

Shit, shit, shit!

I was right, I should have just gone to my room and never come out.

“But-”

“You can say no, ‘course. This ain’t an order.” The look in his eyes says otherwise. If you decline, you’re sure you’ll either be cleaning toilets for the rest of your life or found dead with his knife in your gut. There is no going easy with this guy.

You gape at him, dumbstruck by the bizarre turn your day had taken. You had hoped you would never have to see this terrifying man ever again, fully prepared to cower and duck out of every room you saw him in. Now, he was asking you, of all people on this base, to teach him?

While this guy had the height and look of a Na’vi, he seemed to utterly despise everything about them. Was it even possible for him to learn anything about the Na’vi, their culture and their language, for it to really make a difference in whether he found them or not?

You weren’t even good at teaching! You were far better at learning and observing than educating people, and you had never been interested in changing that. Could you really teach this guy anything? Was he even capable of learning?

Your face hardens as you realize you’re faced with no other choice but to accept.

I guess we’ll see.

“You know, if you’re too chicken-shit to help me out, I could always get-”

“I’ll do it.” Your voice comes out firm, as confidently as you dared to speak to him.

“…oh?” He raises an eyebrow, looking surprised. And skeptical, the asshole.

You nod your head, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You are nervous, yes, but it had been decided. There was no going back now.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Yes. I’ll teach you everything you want to know about the Na’vi. But I-I also want something in return.”

His eyebrow raises higher.

You muster all the courage and audacity you can find in your body. Admittedly, there isn’t much, but you scrounge up enough to say the next few words aloud,

“In exchange for teaching you, I want you to teach me how to fight. I need to be able to protect myself when I’m out in the forest collecting samples, and I would ask one of my friends, but they can barely handle butter knives. And you are obviously…”

You eye him from top to bottom, eyes lingering on his massive arms before you can stop yourself.

“…capable.” You finish lamely, swallowing. You refuse to back down though, tilting your chin up and keeping eye contact.

Quaritch grins slowly.

“Well, little Peach, you certainly have bigger balls than I thought! It’s a deal-”

You hold your hand out for a handshake, palm open.

“To make it official.”

Quaritch glances down at your hand and then at your face, expression unreadable. And then, slowly, he reaches to grasp your hand and most of your arm once more. He pumps your entire arm down three times, eyes never leaving yours.

If you dared to think it, you might have thought he looked almost…impressed.

You clear your throat, face on fire. “So. When would work best for you, for our lessons?”

“…0500 every day for the next two months outta do it.”

Your eyes widen in horror, mouth dropping open all over again in protest. You barely keep yourself from grasping your chest in shock.

These military guys, did they never learn how to fucking sleep in!? That’s so damn early!

His sneering smirk returns to his face at your reaction, “Come on, Peach! Where’s your sense of adventure? You’ll tell me everything I need to know about the tree-fuckers, and I’ll teach you how to take a fist to the face, that sound good? About two hours each, four hours in total every single god-damn day. Good? Good.”

You sputter, hardly believing your ears. “Four hours every day? Don’t you have better things to do!?”

“Nope. My entire purpose for existing is to capture the traitor Jake Sully and end this war once and for all. With your help, I might actually be able to do that, which means that your time is now my time. Got it?”

You nod, queasy. It seems like all of your bravado from earlier had fled, leaving you with only the shakes and a bad feeling in your stomach.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl, Peach. Knew you had it in ya’!”

He claps your shoulder, and even through your shirt you can feel the warmth leaching off his hand and into your own skin.

The grin he wears makes you shiver, and you suddenly feel like prey that had just been caught by a predator, sharp teeth sinking into your neck and bleeding you dry.

He leads you to the door of his bedroom and practically tosses you out, done with you now that he had gotten what he wanted. He barely gives himself a chance to say, “See you bright an’ early tomorrow morning, Peach!” before he is slamming the door in your gawking face.

You stood outside his door for a few moments, simply processing. Eventually, you’re able to make your feet unstick from the floor and you wander back to the break room in a daze, mind clouded.

I can’t fucking believe that just happened. This is going to change my entire schedule for the next few months! Jesus Christ.

You practically stumble through the hallways toward your destination. Once you reach the door to the break room, you lean your arm against it and press your forehead into your arm. Your eyes close, and your heart jackhammers in your chest.

I don’t there’s anyone in my entire life who has ever made me as nervous as that guy. Holy shit.

You take deep breaths, trying to relax your muscles and get some air into your lungs. It takes a few moments, but eventually you’re able to get your heart rate down to a steady pump.

You lick your lips, suddenly parched.

When you lean up from your perch against the door and open your eyes, you can see the faint form of your face shining up from the metal of the door. Your pupils are blown, eyes still wide, and your cheeks are red.

He is seriously the scariest motherfucker I’ve ever met. And now I’m going to have to teach him things! I don’t know how I’m going to do it without passing out a few times, ohmygod. This is going to be miserable.

You swallow as best you can with a dry throat and shakily reach up to fix your messy hair, smoothing down flyaways. You straighten your shirt, crack your neck, and plaster a calm smile onto your face.

There’s no reason to let them know how terrified I am.

You open the door to the break room and step inside, ready to answer any questions they must surely have, and…

The room is empty.

You deflate, hand rubbing down your face and feeling embarrassed.

Of course they wouldn’t wait, we have a linking session in thirty minutes…that I am now late for. Fantastic.

------

You spend the rest of the day completely distracted, too worried about what might happen the next morning. It even took longer than usual for you to link into your Avatar, and when you were finally able to get outside, you had to answer to the swarm of nosy scientists you called your friends.

They were just concerned, you knew, but you didn’t like having to relive the entire stressful event down to the last detail. Still, you gave in and spilled, telling them about Quaritch’s ‘proposition’ (ha!) and leaving out the part where he had taken you to his bedroom.

They had all given you looks that ranged from horrified -Emma-, sympathetic -Margot and James-, and utterly uncaring -David-.

You start drinking from your water bottle franticly after you tell them everything, feeling anxious all over again.

“Well, maybe this won’t be such a bad thing,” Margot says, expression turning contemplative. All members of your group are sitting outside around a creaky wooden table in your Avatar forms, enjoying the fresh, sweet air and the bright light of Pandora as the rays warm your cyan skin. When you tilt your head back to let it shine on your face, it almost feels like home had been before the pollution clouded the sky.

Your hearing in this form is incredibly sensitive, and it hurts to hear the loud, never-ending beeping and rumbling of production taking place. It had taken you weeks to spend much time outside, and even then, you still sometimes have to put your hands over your big pointy ears when the sounds become too overwhelming.

Margot curls her large fingers underneath her chin and props her head up in her hand, “I mean, you’ll learn to protect yourself, so there’s that. Also, um…” She looks at the rest of the group mischievously, and they all get questioning looks on their faces.

She clears her throat and leans in closer to you. She puts a hand in front of her mouth, blocking it from the others, and whispers into your ear,

“I really, really wouldn’t mind getting to see how big his dick actually is and maybe you’ll get a chance.”

You choke on the water pouring into your mouth, spraying it all over the table you are sitting at. The liquid gets caught in your throat, causing you to cough painfully.

“Oh my god, Margot!” you screech, still coughing into your elbow and voice coming out scratchy. Your watery eyes glare at her over your arm.

Margot shrugs, “What, I was just saying what we were all thinking. He’s the biggest guy here, which has gotta mean something, right?” She wiggles her eyebrows and grins salaciously, and you bury your face into your arm.

“If he ever heard you saying anything like that, he would put his knife straight through your face without even hesitating!”

“I’ll let him put something else in my face if he wants.”

“Margot!”

It wasn’t like you hadn’t noticed that Colonel Miles Quaritch was a beautiful man. It would be impossible, really. Despite the sneer he always seemed to have on his face, the deep cyan of his skin, his wide, golden eyes, and his tall, broad frame were enough to make anybody swoon.

And his feline features weren’t the only thing that made him attractive. You could see his beauty in his long-fingered and broad hands, in his high cheekbones, in the curve of his lips even when they were curled up in disdain.

It wouldn’t surprise you to learn that a lot of people thought he was attractive just because of his attitude, either. Back home it seemed that everyone was interested in the cocky, proud, manly posturing that Quaritch seemed to like to do.

But despite how pretty he may be, he was also absolutely, shit-your-pants terrifying, and an asshole, which was enough for you to keep it in your pants. That, and the fact that he hated your guts.

“Trust me, Margot, I’ll be too busy trying not to piss him off again to see how big anything is.”

Great, now I’m thinking about his dick.

Margot rolls her eyes but leans back in her seat and drops the subject, “Your loss, then.”

James strikes up a new topic, just as embarrassed as you, and you slouch gratefully back into your seat, glad that the interrogation is over.

It’s nearing darkness by the time you all finish your linking sessions, and the group shuffles their way back into the sleeping center for the Avatars. You move over to your assigned bed, crawling under the soft sheets and sighing deeply.

You lightly traced your right-hand index finger over the smooth skin of your left arm, causing goosebumps to rise. It was still so strange, being able to actually feel with a body that was yours but not, having so many new features that you still have to adjust to even weeks later. Having a whole-ass tail, being several feet taller than any human alive, having super strength, hell, even being blue was still just totally fucking weird.

You lay back into the cot and attempt to clear your mind from any thoughts, but it was just as hard as it had been when you had linked earlier. After a few minutes, you are finally able to silence your mind and drift off just enough for the link to become secure and for you to wake up in the gel link bed, back in your human body.

By the time you walk to your room, you are bone-wary, almost stumbling on your feet. You dread the coming morning, and the only thing you want to do now is turn off your brain and rest. Your shoulders hurt from the stress of the day, and when you finally unlock your bedroom door, take off your clothes, shower, and brush your teeth, you’re practically hunched over.

You shuffle under the covers once again, and you’re unconscious before your head can fully settle onto the pillow.

------

Your eyes pop open, arms and legs flailing wildly in your sheets as you struggle to reach over to your alarm clock to silence its screaming. When you finally smack it, the crack of your hand connecting with its durable metal makes your palm sting angrily.

You let out a hoarse groan, cradling your hand to your chest as you flop down onto your bed. It had barely felt like you had gotten a wink of sleep last night, too busy thinking about your approaching morning with Quaritch. Scenarios ranging from you accidentally stabbing him to him purposefully stabbing you ran through your head, keeping you awake after only a few hours of rest.

Eventually, you stop your moping and reluctantly pull yourself out of your bed, eyes blearily glaring around your room.

It’s still a gray and sad little space, your room, but you had placed the small number of personal items you brought with you to Pandora throughout it. The one picture you had of your parents sits framed on your desk, along with your holotablet.

The few items of clothing and the two pairs of shoes you owned were put up in your closet haphazardly, and your hygienic amenities were scattered across the small bathroom connected to your room.

Your room and areas beyond it are all so generic and boring, which is why you spend most of your time either with your group or outside in your Avatar, being able to run around and feel. And once you were finally able to leave Bridgehead, your life would start, and it wouldn’t matter what your room looked like.

You tiredly get dressed and brush your teeth and your wild hair, putting it up into a simple ponytail to keep it out of your face. Once you’re suitable, you head out and lock the door behind you, placing the key in the right pocket of your jeans.

The hallways are quiet for once, and even the incessant roaring of construction has stopped. You walk down the softly lit hallways to the mess hall, unreasonably jealous of the people who get to sleep in their beds.

Most of the lights are off when you walk in, but to your surprise, there are a few people sitting down at a table already eating their breakfast.

Guess my assumption about the military was right, they really don’t know how to sleep in.

To your delight, there is a light amount of muffins and bagels laid out on a table nearby, but the most important thing was the coffee pot next to them.

Looks like the shipment finally came in. Margot is going to piss her pants.

You gladly snag two muffins with napkins and two small cups of coffee, heading right back out the door to the hallway with a friendly smile to the person walking in. They look blankly back at you, but you don’t mind as you stuff a chocolate chip muffin into your mouth as you walk.

You shuffle the remaining muffin and cups into your left hand and elbow crook, grasping the cold metal handle of the glass door that leads into the center with your right hand. You can see a head of black curls poke out from the side of a monitor, followed quickly by a scowl and a pair of eyes glaring blearily at you as you walk in.

You wince. “Morning, Tom. Thanks again for doing this, I really appreciate it.”

Tom had been the unlucky soul you had asked to help link you into your Avatar every morning for the foreseeable future. He had balked when you had asked, saying “Hell no!” before the words were fully out of your mouth. You had leveled him with your best begging look and offered to pay for six of the ridiculously expensive books you know he liked to read coming in on the next supply shipment.

He grouchily agreed to the deal but demanded you bring him breakfast every morning. You had accepted with a pleased smile.

Tom rolls his eyes and snatches the cup of coffee from your hand when you offer it. You’re about to warn him about how hot it was when he gulps half of it down. You watch, halfway impressed and halfway feeling the pain for him in your own throat.

“Let’s get started, then.” His voice is even more crackly than yours is this early.

You nod hurriedly and take one last sip of your coffee before you reluctantly set it down on the table. You walk over to the link bed and crawl in, and Tom pulls the cover down over you. You settle in, closing your eyes to clear your mind.

------

“There ya’ are, Peach! I was startin’ to think you’d chickened out on me.” Quaritch’s loud voice startles you out of your sleepy trance, and your head snaps up from where it is laying against the metal table you are sitting at.

The asshole looks as awake and lucid as usual, not a hint of tiredness on his face. He grins nastily when he sees your sleepy expression.

“We didn’t agree on a place to meet up, sir.” You are barely able to cover your yawn with a hand, and you stand with a grimace.

“That is true. From now on, we’ll do our lessons in Courtyard Six. Try to keep up.”

He turns and walks away, clearly expecting you to follow. You hurry to catch up with his long stride, but it’s much easier to do in this form. He’s almost ten feet tall, but your Avatar is eight and a half feet tall, and you are able to lengthen your stride to match his pace. Your shoulder width and muscles are still much smaller than his, but you imagined most were.

As you step in close to him, your nose twitches, and you realize something that almost makes you trip.

Quaritch smells really, really good.

You lean in closer to him and inhale discreetly, deeper than before, and, yep, that scent is definitely coming from him.

It is such a rich scent, a strange combination of rainwater, black coffee, and something smoky, like a campfire.

The smell is so strong that it feels like a physical mist floating its way through your nose and ears and into your head. Your mind goes fuzzy, as if suddenly stuffed with cotton. Your lips and fingertips tingle. And to your absolute horror, you can actually feel your mouth start to water.

It’s just such a lovely scent.

Do you think he’d be okay with it if I pressed my nose into his neck to smell him better-No!

You try to break out of the mist, shaking your head to get rid of the images of licking up his neck, tasting his skin, the way his head would tilt back and you would be able to feel his rumbling groan spread through his chest pressed up against your own and-

Stop it! Jesus Christ, don’t even think about it!

This is just a completely normal physical reaction, right? Maybe, but it wasn’t like this with the other guys!

In front of you, Quaritch’s footsteps stutter to a stop for a split second before resuming. It’s barely a pause, but it’s enough to make you snap out of your thoughts and look up at him. When you do, you notice the slight twitching of his own feline-like nose.

Is he smelling the same thing?

He turns his head around slightly to look at you, and you make eye contact with him just enough to notice his pupils are blown out, consuming most of his iris.

My eyes are probably no better, you think, before ducking your head to watch your feet as you walk.

Quaritch stares at you for a moment and then turns his attention back toward the path, and you do the same. You discreetly rub at your sensitive nose, trying to get his fantastic scent out of your head. A few moments after you do, Quaritch rubs at his own nose.

It doesn’t work, but by the time you reach the courtyard you’ve already gotten a little used to it. Thankfully you don’t feel as lightheaded anymore, but you have no idea if it is going to come back.

You notice that the sky has begun to lighten up as Quaritch unlocks the chain-link gate leading into the yard. Not that you really need any light, what with being able to see in the dark and all.

He stops once you enter and closes the gate behind you, and you can immediately tell why he had chosen this courtyard out of all the others. It was hidden behind a big wall of concrete that had no windows, so nobody could see you from inside the building, and it was positioned all the way in the back of the court section, meaning it was far more remote and private than the others.

Probably doesn’t want his tough guy image to be hurt when people saw him learning about the Na’vi and chatting with a little scientist, the prick.

The enclosure is a simple little area with a small basketball court, a tetherball pole, and a metal table. Nothing special, but it would be perfect for your lessons.

He turns around to meet your eyes, and you still have to tilt your head back to return his yellow gaze. The bioluminescent markings on his face glow brightly.

“You wanna go first, Peach?”

You swallow nervously but nod, “I’ll go first. I thought a lot about what our first lesson was going to be last night.”

You drop down onto the soft faux grass that covered the courtyard, legs crisscross applesauce in front of you as you avoid sitting on your flicking tail. You look up at him expectantly when he continues to stand.

Quaritch looks at the table sitting just a few feet away and shrugs. He plops down onto the grass hesitantly and crosses his legs in front of him the same as you. Now that he’s actually here, all the plans you made completely leave your brain, and you mind turns blank as you struggle to come up with something to say. You both sit there in silence for a few moments before he says,

“So are you actually going to say anything in this lesson or what? Usually I can’t get you quacks to shut the fuck up-”

“Sorry, sorry! I’m just trying to figure out where to start. Um…” Your brain flashes to what Quaritch had said when he started this whole thing, wanting to learn more about the way the Na’vi think, what’s important to them, how they work.

“Okay. Well, I guess the first place to start would be at the very beginning. Millions of years ago, when-”

Quaritch interrupts you with a loud groan, throwing his head back in exasperation, “I’m not askin’ for a history lesson here, Peach. Just tell me about them now, how they operate now, in this time, not millions of years ago! Jesus Christ, you pretentious assholes always have to drag things out-”

“Okay, alright, I’m sorry! Um, so the most important thing to know about the Na’vi is their connection to nature, their connection to Eywa. You’ve heard about Her, right?”

You continue to speak when Quaritch nods. “Right, well, She protects the balance of life here on Pandora, and the Na’vi love Eywa, the Great Mother. All things on Pandora are connected to each other through Eywa; you, me, plants, animals, you name it. Life and the forest are sacred to them because it bonds them to Eywa. They can actually speak to Her, and there are places like the Tree of Souls and the Tree of Voices that are sacred to them. They connect all the Na’vi to Eywa and to their ancestors, and they can actually hear the voices of past living people, isn’t that amazing? Are you with me so far?”

Quaritch nods again, surprisingly quiet. In fact, it’s probably the longest you’ve ever seen him be silent. His face is carefully blank, eyebrows furrowed with some unnamed emotion as he listens to you speak.

And that’s how the next two hours go, you talking and Quaritch listening with rapt attention. You had no idea if what you were talking about was anything Quaritch wanted to hear, but he didn’t interrupt you other than to ask a rare question.

About an hour in you stood up and stretched, bones popping and limbs aching from sitting on the ground for so long. Your ass was practically numb, and your left leg was stinging with pins and needles. You put your hands on your hips and looked down at Quaritch, who remained sitting on the grass.

For the first time ever, you were actually the one towering over him, and the thought made you grin as he looked up at you.

It seemed he could tell what you were thinking, because he scowled and pulled himself up on his feet, looming over you once more. He stretched his long arms above his head to get the blood flowing back in, groaning just like you had a moment ago.

You paused your own movement, gaze lingering on the way his strong muscles shifted underneath his pretty blue skin. They bunched up as his arms flexed, and your mouth turned dry.

Your eyes flickered over them for a few moments and then shifted to his face. Your stomach swooped low as you realized he had caught you looking, and you stared at him in mortification as his sneering, arrogant smile returned full force to his face. He looked so smug.

You had no idea your Avatar could even blush from embarrassment, but your cheeks burned all the same. You hurriedly turned your gaze away from him entirely, eyes squeezed shut.

He let out a low, unpleasant chuckle, clearly taking immense pleasure in your misery.

Asshole!

You stood for a few more minutes, back facing him as you pretended to examine the sky with incredible interest, waiting for your blush to fade and your stomach to settle. Eventually, you both sat on the grass once again, and you resumed your speech.

You talked about all things Na’vi related, from their connection to Eywa to what they wore, what they ate, their ceremonies, anything that popped into your head that you felt was important to mention.

In the grand scheme of things, you weren’t able to cover very much ground before your two hours were up and your lesson ended for the day.

By this time, Pandora’s light has returned from the eclipse, shining down brightly on both of you.

“So, how did I do?” you dare ask Quaritch.

“Well. Now I know what a Na’vi eats for breakfast, so. That’s something.”

You groan and bury your face in your hands, “I’m sorry, you said you wanted to know what they ate and everything! I promise we’ll eventually get into the more interesting and important things.”

Please don’t put me on toilet duty. I can do this!

Quaritch sighs, but says, “Don’t worry, Peach. We’ll get to the juicier parts someday. Learning to be one’s enemy is a long process, after all.”

He smacks his thighs, and the sound makes you jump, face moving away from your hands. Your nerves reignite in your stomach all over again as you realize it is now time for your lesson.

Why did I ever ask him to do this!? I should never have said anything, now I’m going to be Quaritch’s punching bag for the next few months! Idiot!

A sharp-toothed grin stretches over Quaritch’s face, and he leans in until he’s right in front of you, face close to yours. His yellow eyes bore into yours, and you can see your own terrified expression reflecting right back at you.

“Time for me to teach you, Peach.”

------

“Alright, Peach. You know how to handle a knife?”

You think about it and shake your head.

“…Okay. Do you know how to throw a punch?”

Again, you shake your head.

Quaritch curses and takes a step back, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing the middle finger of his right hand between them as if praying for patience.

Both of you are standing in the middle of the small basket court, facing one another. You refuse to feel embarrassed by Quaritch’s reaction to your fighting skills, or lack thereof.

Not everyone can be a terrifying killing machine, asshole!

Quaritch seems to get the patience he was asking for, straightening up with a sigh.

“Back to the basics, then. Jesus.”

He steps up to you and places his warm, large hands on the bare skin of your shoulders. He shuffles you over closer to him, and you go willingly, body tense.

“First step in learning to defend yourself is to not be a pussy.”

Wow. Wonderful advice.

“You need to be firm in your stance and your attack, else your opponent will just be able to knock you off your feet before you can even land a hit. And if your limbs are loose, you’ll lose your balance and go flying just from your own force. Keep your core tight.”

He places a large hand firmly against the bare skin of your stomach and you suck in a surprised breath. His touch tingles through you in a way you’ve never felt before, and you look up at him with wide eyes.

He jerks his hand back and clears his throat. He walks around toward your back, and you can see the veins in his arm shift when his hand flexes by his side.

“When you throw a punch, you need to keep your wrist straight and fully extend your arm each time. Make sure you step like this,” he demonstrates, “and pull your arm like this.”

“Keep your thumb behind your index and middle fingers but out of your fist, don’t stick your pinky out, and you want to hit your opponent with these knuckles right here. Got it?”

You nod slowly, making a fist following his instructions with your right hand. He nods once and then moves in front of you. He lifts his hands in the air, palms facing outward.

“Hit me.”

Already? But I barely even- alright, you know what, I don’t even care anymore.

You shake out your arms self-consciously and try to position your body in the way he had shown you. You pull your arms up, hands folding into fists, stance widening, and you lash your arm out at him with all the strength you can muster.

Your right fist smacks against his open palm with a satisfying thwack, and you grin, tossing your arms above your head at your success.

“Your form was good, Peach, but your fist felt like getting hit with a bug. You need to work on your strength, build up your muscles and your core. Try again.”

You nod, arm flying out and hitting his palm once more.

“No, you need to keep your arm tucked in, not flying out like an idiot bird with a broken wing. Again.”

You hit his hands over and over for the next half an hour as he corrects your form and stance. As he said, you need to build your strength up in this new body, but this was a good start. He has to get in pretty close once again to show you how to move your body, but other than he seems to keep his distance.

You know, this isn’t so bad!

You hit him again a few more times before he nods, satisfied, and drops his arms.

“Now you know how to hit somebody hard, Peach. Always go for sensitive places, like the nose, groin, ears, eyes, kidney, wherever you can reach. Got it?”

You lower your own arms, panting. Reaching out to punch him hadn’t taken much movement from your arms, but doing it over and over again for half an hour made them ache terribly. You struggle to catch your breath.

It had been embarrassing, admittedly, the first few times. You had felt shy and scared all at once, unsure of yourself and uneager to be anywhere near Quaritch, let alone close enough to touch him.

Then you’d lost most of the fear the second time he had lightly smacked your cheek when he got through your defensively positioned arms. They were pretty much love taps, practically pats, but it had lit an angry fire in your stomach. Your uneasiness turned to determination to land at least one hit on him, and you forgot all about your trepidation and that this was Quaritch you were tussling with.

From the way he had grinned and curled his fingers in a ‘come-hither’ gesture, that was probably what he had been trying to do.

He also probably just liked hitting you, the dickbag.

Quaritch nods, and you fully expect him to end the lesson early for the day. What you weren’t expecting was for him to reach down and pull a massive knife from its sheath on his right thigh, bringing it up toward the light for examination.

You lean back quickly, ears flicking to the sides of your head in alarm. You had thought your punching lesson had seemed tame for him! It really wouldn’t surprise you if he decided you needed a lesson on keeping your guard up and lunged at you.

He won’t stab me, he won’t stab me, he won’t stab me, he won’t stab me-

“This here’s a bowie knife, seventeen inches of serrated steel strong enough to cut through bone.”

He waves it around carefully, smirking at your wide-eyed look of terror.

“And this…” he leans down to put the knife back in its sheath before pulling out something else from a different pocket on his right leg, “This is your knife.”

The little knife is comically small in his giant hand, more of a switchblade than anything else.

“That’ll be the knife you use for the next week at least, so don’t lose it.”

You pluck it from his hand gingerly, fingers folding around the base as you bring it up to your eyes for closer inspection. It looks bigger in your hand than it did in his, and you can see his initials, M.Q, engraved on its tiny metal handle.

Why the hell would a guy as big as Quaritch even need a knife this small? Does he use it as a toothpick?

Nonetheless, you’re glad he didn’t give you anything bigger to use for your first time. You weren’t sure you’d be able to handle it without stabbing yourself.

He shows you how to hold it, how to slash and stab, the proper way to stand and lunge with the little blade.

After another half an hour, he nods.

“Alright, now I want you to try me.” He says, pulling his arms up close to his chest and goading you on once again with a ‘come at me’ curled hand gesture, cocky smirk in place.

You balk. “You want me to charge at you with a knife already? We just got started!”

“Yep, sure did. What, you think you could actually touch me, let alone hurt me with that little thing? Ha!”

You wince. That’s a good point.

You do what he taught you to, adjusting your grip on the blade and positioning your body and feet into the dirt, tightening your core. You take a deep breath, strengthen your muscles, and then leap with a cry.

Quaritch shifts out of the way of your knife quicker than you had yet to see him move, simply stepping to the side with an unsurprised expression.

You go sailing past him, war cry turning panicked. You drop the knife and jerk up your arms to cover your face, turning away and squeezing your eyes shut.

Just as you start tilting toward the dirt, a hand grips the back of the collar of your shirt and pulls you upright before you can even realize you aren’t falling anymore. You remained positioned for impact, hands still in front of your face to cushion your fall even as you stand on your own two feet.

You open your eyes and blink, hands patting down your front as if to make sure no injury had been done to your person.

Quaritch lets go of your collar, knuckles brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck.

“That was fuckin’ pathetic! It was like a wet paper bag was throwin’ itself my way. And where the hell did you learn to cry out like that, ‘cause it was fuckin’ embarrassin’.”

You pay no attention to his harsh words, still stunned you hadn’t face-planted into the dirt for once.

You look up at him, starry-eyed.

“That was amazing, Quaritch! You moved so fast I could barely see you! Have you always been that quick or is it new? Could you teach me how to dodge like that?”

He stares down at you, ears flicking back against the sides of his head. An odd expression crosses his face, almost as though he was taken aback by your wonder.

He clears his throat awkwardly, turning to the side to avoid your strong eye contact.

“That doesn’t matter, not with that pathetic performance. You need ta’ be firm, like I said, and not throwin’ your weight ‘round like a pussy. Come on, do it again.”

You reach down into the dirt to pick up your little knife, and you lunge at him again. He dodges all the same, but you surprise the both of you when you don’t stop, turning around and slashing in his direction.

Of course, the blade doesn’t even touch him, but it’s the thought that counts.

He grins at you, “There you go, Peach! Way to show some initiative, I’ll make a fine soldier out of you yet. Let’s go again, come on.”

And that’s how you end your morning, trying to stab Colonel Miles Quaritch with a knife the size of one of his fingers. You’d have never thought this was where you would be when you met him all those weeks ago, but hey, if learning from him would one day save your life, you’d do it gladly.

By the time two hours have passed, you’re sweating and panting for breath, hands on your knees. Your body was still new, and you hadn’t been in it long enough for you to get past light jogging and reflex training. Honestly, the fact that you were able to do all that moving without collapsing was a god-damn miracle.

You were so much faster in this form, so much more flexible and stronger. Still, that held no comparison to the trained, experienced combat vet you were practically playing with. Because that’s what this would be called, not fighting or even training. It was like playing tag or a slapping game, cause that’s all that happened for the entire lesson.

Quaritch, the fucker, doesn’t have a drop of sweat on him. His chest rose and fell evenly, and he rested one of his hands on the gun holster he had wrapped around his hips.

“You good, Peach? Not going to puke, are ‘ya?” You’d be flattered by his concern for your well-being if it weren’t for the mean, amused tone layering his voice when he spoke.

You stay bent over for a few more moments as you struggle to catch your breath. Eventually, you’re able to rise fully upright. You answer his question, even though you know it was rhetorical,

“I-I’m good, I think.”

Just as you finish your sentence, your stomach growls angrily, as though enraged at being denied sustenance.

Ugh.

If you weren’t exhausted and beyond caring about what Quaritch thought of you, with your floppy, sweaty form and shitty punches, you would have been embarrassed. Now, though, the only thing you do is pout. Now, you were just a little pissed and tired at getting your ass thoroughly kicked for two hours.

“I’m hungry, can we be finished for the day?”

Quaritch rolls his eyes, unimpressed, but relents.

“Yeah, Peach, we’re done. Let’s get goin’.”

You grin, relieved, and your energy returns just slightly at the thought of lunch. You bound to his side, and he leads the way out of the courtyard and into the space beyond.

The day is in full swing, scientists, soldiers, robots, and trucks all bustling around Bridgehead as you follow Quaritch close on his heels to the mess hall.

You pass by all the tiny little humans, most of whom don’t even spare either of you a glance. Either because they were used to seeing ten-foot-tall Avatars walking around or because they were too busy to give a shit. Probably both, really.

You both have to duck as you walk through the doorway, Quaritch much more than you. You walk over to the table where you had snagged the muffins for breakfast earlier that morning, grabbing three of the sandwiches that were there now instead.

Quaritch grabs six of them, piling them all onto his plate.

You’ve just started scarfing yours down when a large hand whips out across your back, slamming into you. You inhale instinctively and start choking on your food, struggling to breathe. You turn around, fully ready to smash your sandwiches into the face of whichever fucker did that when you see Quaritch’s walking away, waving the spare hand not holding his food up behind him.

“See you ‘round, Peach.”

Oh. Well, at least he said goodbye.

You drink from the water bottle you’d snagged from the mass hall and eat your sandwiches as you walk to the showering station for Avatars. You stay under the pounding warm water longer than you probably should, enjoying the way it soothes the ache in your tense arms and shoulders.

After you’re done washing away the sweat and grime, you head back to the Avatar resting area, ready to be in your own body.

It had taken you a while to learn how to hold onto the brain link connecting your bodies; the first few weeks were the worst when you were learning to hold it longer and longer. Sometimes it would break, and you would slam back into your human body with a gasp, disoriented and head pounding.

Now, though, you were much better at holding onto the link for longer periods, even if it still gave you a headache.

You settle back into the pillows, closing your eyes and letting your mind go blank.

------

When you wake up in your human body, it always feels stuffy, not right, like you’re being squeezed into a tube. Your mouth is always cottony, too, and even though your body was simply laying down like you were asleep, your bones always ache when you get up as if you’ve been doing jumping jacks for however long you were in there.

You step out of the link bed, stretching your arms above your head and groaning. Tom is no longer in the linking center, but you didn’t expect him to be when there were others milling about who could watch over you.

You stand up and wobble a little bit, dizzy. Once it passes and you’re sure you can walk without smacking into anything, you make your way back toward your room, fully intent on sleeping for the rest of the afternoon before the conference in the evening.

Just as you leave the linking center, Margot runs into you, hair wild and eyes a little bit crazy. She grabs onto your shoulders, shaking you back and forth lightly. You let her do whatever she wants, beyond caring.

“How did it go? Did he yell at you, did he flirt any? Ooh, did he smack your ass-? Hey!”

You shake her hands off, walking past her with a roll of your eyes.

“Jesus Christ Margot, you really need to get laid.”

She groans, following after you with quick steps, waving her arms around as she says, “I know! There’s just no one I’ve seen that I’m interested in, so I have to live through you and your sexy romance with Colonel Quaritch-”

You halt, turning around to grab her shoulders. You’re the one shaking her back and forth this time.

“Listen, Margot, there is nothing going on with Quaritch and me at all, nothing sexy, nothing flirty! We literally just met like two days ago, and he’s hated me ever since! Now stop saying stuff like that, or he’s going to overhear us, again, and kill us both. Okay? Okay.”

Margot whines, “Oh, but maybe there could be! If you were just a little less uptight and he was a little less homicidal, you guys could totally get together. I mean, you can’t deny that he might be interested, right? I totally saw the way he was looking at you yesterday!”

“Yeah, he was looking at me like he wanted to wrap his hands around my throat.”

“Kinky.”

“No, Margot, not kinky! More like murderous! You’re starting to sound crazy, Margot, you’ve gotta do something before you start humping anything that moves.”

Margot blushes, finally feeling some sort of shame, and she nods, “Yeah, you’re right, I’m sorry. I’m just so pent-up, honey. Ugh! Okay, I’m going to try to relax somewhere, get outta my head for a little bit. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

You pat her shoulder and say, “See you then, Margot.”

She gives you one last smile before she’s off, bounding down the hallway. You shake your head in fond exasperation, now even more tired than before, and walk back to your room. You adored Margot, loved her, but sometimes her exuberance made your head pound.

You unlock your door, kick off your shoes, and toss yourself onto the unmade sheets of your bed. One last thought floats through your mind just before you drift off to sleep.

Maybe mornings with Quaritch won’t be as bad as I thought.

peachy keen. Part Two

#avatar: the way of water #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #avatar imagine #miles quaritch #miles quaritch x reader #miles quaritch imagine #my writing #avatar #avatar fanfiction #the way of water #cross posted on ao3 #peachy keen #colonel quaritch #colonel miles quaritch #avatar miles quaritch #na'vi quaritch #na'vi quaritch x reader

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margotw10bis · 6 months

Text

Crashing On Crush. JJK 2 [m]

crush!Jungkook x reader

Genre: smut; series; romance; angst

Words: 2.9k

Synopsis: What happens when your first encounter with your crush is Jungkook seeing your ass?

Warnings: sexual tension; alchool consumption; make out in public

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"You're close. Just hold on a little bit more"

You have dreamt about those words coming from Jungkook's mouth. However, you thought you would hear them in the bedroom, during a hot roll in the hay. Not in the hallway towards your apartment door with Jungkook carrying you because you're feeling weak.

Skillfully, he takes your keys in your bag and opens the door. He quickly takes off his shoes before helping you with your heels. You really, really wanted to bring him to your place tonight but not in this situation... Why is fate so unfair to you?

Jungkook helps you to walk to your bedroom and gently drops you on your bed. You close your eyes for several reasons. First, to try to feel better. Secondly, to not think about the fact that your crush is seeing you like that. Thirdly, to stop imaging how tonight could have been so much better than this, you and Jungkook in the bedroom.

"Do you want a glass of water or something?" Jungkook asks

You grumble, sluggishly shaking your hand to say no. Right now, you just want to be alone and die in peace from the humiliation. From start to finish, tonight was a catastrophe.

"Okay" Jungkook finally says after a few minutes of silence. "I give you my number, please call me if you're feeling bad, or if you need anything"

He grabs a little post-it pad and writes down his phone number before putting it on your nightstand. With a last worried glaze, he leaves.

———

Two weeks have passed since your first encounter with Jungkook. You kind of hoped this embarrassing night would have put an end to your stupid crush but it didn't. It is even worse now. You just keep waiting for an Instagram notification of a new post. And you keep thinking about his body pressed against yours at night, in your bed. And that leads to a harden arousal that can only go away with an orgasm you provide to yourself while you imagine his hand instead of yours on your wet pussy.

You never felt like that about a man. Of course, some of them like your ex-boyfriends excited you but never this much. You've never been so wet for someone, and Jungkook hasn't even touched you. At this point, you just hope you'll meet some guy who will take care of your horniness but you know you'll think about your crush all along.

The end of the school year and the fact that you have passed most of your exams now give you too much time to think - or more overthink - the situation.

Thankfully, starting today, your mind will be occupied: you finally begin your new job. This job in a famous art gallery in Seoul will be a great point on your resume and will definitely help you in a few weeks when you graduate with a master's degree in Cultural Business. To make a good first impression, you are wearing a brand new outfit: a light pink blouse and a white pencil skirt. You look professional and maybe a little sexy too, which boosts your confidence. And you really need it since you are stressed.

The building is very modern and it's clear that you are in an artistic place: the architecture is signed by a famous contemporary designer. The huge and minimalistic lobby is fancy and you feel quite impressed by it. But you don't have time to admire your new work place because a handsome, tall, blond haired man with glasses welcomes you.

"Hi! I'm Kim Namjoon, nice to meet you. I'm the assistant of the owner" His voice is deep and warm and you can't help blushing from his good-looking. His smile is so cute with his dimples.

"Hi, I'm Y/N. Thanks for hiring me. It's a great opportunity and I'm willing to prove you you made the right call"

"I have no doubt. Follow me, I'll introduce you to the team and I'll show you around so you can get familiar with the gallery"

And just like that, he walks you around everywhere: the two large exhibition halls, the staff lounge, the administration offices and the storage where some of the art pieces are safely kept for the next exhibitions. You are very impressed with the logistics. Of course, you had studied these things in college but it was theoretical. It's so different to experience it.

Then, you meet your new colleagues and you immediately feel good. Everyone seems so nice and is really careful about making you feel at ease. Yep, you'll be happy working here.

"Hi Giiirl! Let's celebrate your first day! Tonight, at 8? Danbam? 🥂" You smile reading Suzi's text message. She is your number 1 fan and she always makes your big - or little - accomplishments count. Thinking about how lucky you are to have her in your life, your heart is wrapped with love. Indeed, your first - and so good - day deserves to be toasted. And there is no better place than your and your best friend's HQ: Danbam bar in Itaewon.

At 8 sharp, you enter the bar. The nice and not too loud music immediately puts you in the mood. You don't take long to spot Suzi at your usual table. When she sees you, she smiles widely and hugs you.

"How is my favorite boss girl?"

"She is tired but so happy to see you" You answer with a laugh

You and Suzi don't waste time and order your drinks. She asks you questions about everything: the place, the people, the artists, ... She is so invested, just like she would be with her own career and you can't help but tell her, for the hundredth time, that she is the best-est best friend in the world.

"Well, keep that in mind then because I have a surprise for you"

You don't like her tone. She is plotting something and you know by experience that you won't like it. You know she means well but Suzi is a whimsical and unpredictable person so her 'surprises' can easily turn into chaos. This one is not an exception.

Your best friend looks over your shoulder and you turn around to discover - with anxiety - what she has planned. And oh-my-god. You choke on your spit when your eyes meet Jungkook and all his glory. He is not alone though: Taehyung is by his side but you barely notice him. The only thing you see is your crush. He looks so damn hot with his oversized black t-shirt that allows his tattoos to show and his black cargo pants. If handsomeness could kill, you'd be dead by now. His long hair is shiny and fluffy, you want to run your fingers in it.

You just have time to pull yourself back together before the two guys arrive at your table. You bow timidly and take a swig of your cocktail. You glare at Suzi, saying through your eyes how betrayed you feel. She responds with a half-apologetic half-teasing look.

"So, Y/N" Jungkook speaks after order his drink "Suzi told us you started a new job. How is it?"

"It's really nice" Your voice sounds so unsure, you clear your throat. "The place is very beautiful and everyone is very kind with me. I'm glad to work there"

"Congratulations then!" Jungkook exclaims, clinking your glass with his own that has just arrived.

———

You don't really know how it happened but with the alcohol blurring your mind, you didn't notice Suzi and Tae leaving, leading to a one-on-one with Jungkook. Suzi might be your best friend but right now you hate her. The silence between your crush and you is so embarrassing. You still don't know how to act with him. However, you know that your current mouth shut is no help.

"So, uhm, Jungkook" you start, unsteady. "Where do you work?"

Yes, just like you haven't stalked him on Instagram. You know exactly what's his work: graphic designer.

"I'm a freelance graphic designer" You notice how his doe eyes sparkle with passion. "I have some good partners now so I'm not as stressed as at the beginning. It's more settled now. Maybe I can show you some of my works on Instagram?"

Oh boy.

You gulp loudly. You've seen his work. A lot of times actually. But there is no way you'll confess that so a weak 'sure' escapes your lips. Your heart raises its pace when Jungkook moves his seat closer to you. Your shoulders almost touch each other's. He takes off his phone from his pocket and opens the well-known app. He scrolls through his profile, explaining the concept or telling you an anecdote about each project. However, you can't really focus on his words when you feel the heat of his body irradiating. And that's what explains your sudden heating for sure and definitely not the fact that you are imagining yourself riding his strong thighs while kissing his pretty lips passionately.

"Are you okay?"

Jungkook's concerned voice rips you off from your fantasy.

"I-I'm okay" You finish your drink to cool you down because, Lord, you're burning.

You look up at him and you are destabilized by his intense glance. He smacks his lips and the movement catches your eyes. You stare at his pulpy pretty mouth. It must be so soft. It must feel so good.

"Do you want to kiss me?" Jungkook asks

Your lips parted due to the surprise. Maybe he is trying to joke because he feels you tensed but he is not joking. He is goddamn serious. And even if you were a good liar - which you are not -, the blush of your cheeks would deny your words.

"I-No, I don't want it" Your voice is a whisper. Especially when Jungkook is getting closer.

His face is now only a few inches away, you can even feel his breath on your skin.

"But I think you do"

"I..."

You don't know what to say because yes, you fucking want to kiss him. The simple thought of it starts your arousal and you feel your panties slowly getting wet. Anyway, you don't have to think about it because the sexiest man you've ever met closes the distance between you and kisses you.

He kisses so fucking good. His lips are soft, warm but the cold little metal of his piercing is like a delicious prickle of extra pleasure. It's not a chaste kiss but it's not an outrageous French kiss. It's the perfect center between the two and it's really, really good. It's so good that you can't help a little moan. Jungkook smirks when he hears it: what a beautiful music to his ears. It makes him want to kiss you deeply, just to hear it again. Your instinct controls your hands that grab the back of his head, not really to pull him closer but to feel more of him than his lips on yours. You feel his smooth hair, it's delightful. Jungkook's hands don't stay static either: his left arm grabs your waist to pull you closer - if that is even possible - while his tattooed hand delicately caresses your cheek. This is the best kiss of your life.

Jungkook's kiss conveys his desire for you and it's so fucking hot. Knowing you attract him makes you wet. You press your thighs together to prevent the leaking from your pussy. A gasp of surprise escapes your lips, but is silenced by Jungkook's mouth, when you feel his arm going down to grab your ass. The fact that you are in public makes the scene so scandalous but also so arousing. A small part of you is filled with pride that this attractive man is kissing you.

The magical, dream-comes-true moment is shut down by your phone. You both grunt in disappointment when you pull apart. You check your phone with annoyance and internally curse at the person who dared to disturb this fucking good kiss.

However, the euphoria of Jungkook's pulp lips on yours is quickly put aside when you read the message:

"Hi Y/N. I'm sorry to bother you but we really need your help at the gallery. You remember when I told you that working in art business could be handful? Well, your first day will prove it to you: the artist who was supposed to exhibit next month withdrew. Can you come please? Namjoon".

Your heart beating with horniness is replaced by your heart beating with stress. You look up at Jungkook. His lips are shiny and red due to your harsh kiss and his long black hair is a mess, but you also notice the concern in his big eyes.

"I'm sorry, I have to go to work" You don't even recognize your hoarse voice, effect of the arousal in your body

"Right now?" Jungkook exclaims with a clear disappointment

"Yes I'm sorry. There are some problems, they need me..."

You are so frustrated but you also have no choice. You are not going just because it's your first day and you don't want to make a bad impression, but you are going because you do care about the gallery and you are not willing to let your kind colleagues dealing with it alone.

"I'll drive you" Jungkook offers

Your cheeks redden. "Cute" Jungkook thinks. Gosh, he loves so much seeing how you physically respond to his actions. This kiss was one of his best ones. Your little moans turned him on, especially because he knew some other guys have seen and heard the way you two kissed. He can't help but feel possessive towards you. When you stood up earlier to go to the restroom, he knew he wasn't the only one to look at your beautiful ass in this tight white skirt. All your outfit is hot, he wishes he could work with you just to fuck you dressed like that. You look like a good girl he wants to do naughty things to and the fact that some guys looked at you the exact same way makes him mad. He has never been the jealous type but now, his cockiness is fully satisfied: the other men think you are his.

"Thank you, Jungkook. Let's go then"

You stand up and are ready to leave but Jungkook grabs your wrist.

"Can, uhm, can you wait just a few minutes?" He stammers

"Is everything okay?" You ask him, worried

"Yeah, yeah. It's just that..." He is groping for words, not wanting to be too crude. "I can't stand up right now"

He indicates his crotch with his eyes. When your own look down at the so-called area, they widen: there is a clear bulge. You'd dare to say a huge bulge. You blush even more by the sight of it but you also feel the wetness between your legs. You try not to think about how big Jungkook must be and how much you would like to feel him inside you.

So you just sit back down and send a message to Namjoon to tell him you'll be there in few minutes. While waiting for Jungkook's cock to... set down, you try to have a normal conversation with him. You don't know if you're released or disappointed that your crush doesn't seem to care much about the hottest moment of your life. He just keeps talking like nothing happened. Is this normal for him? Does he kiss a lot of girls like that? Because you surely don't and you kind of thought it was special... You hide your sadness behind a smile and thankfully, Jungkook tells you that you are good to go.

You're not surprised with Jungkook's car. His black Mercedes AMG matches his style. But you do feel a little intimidated by the vehicle. It looks so expensive and sporty. You're afraid to scratch the door... The interior of the car is breathtaking: all leather with blue and purple led lights. You spend the whole ride examining all the details. By the way Jungkook is speaking about his car, his 'Mimi' like he calls it, you can see how proud he is about it. And he definitely can. He explains to you that it was his dream car and that he saved all the money that he could when he started to work to buy it. You listen to him, a tender smile on your face that Jungkook can't see because of the night.

He pulls over on the parking lot and you both get out of the car. He walks you to the entrance.

"Thank you so much for the ride Jungkook. If you haven't been there, I would have had to take the bus"

"You're welcome"

You see him hesitate, looking at his feet. You can't guess that, in his head, Jungkook is wondering if he should kiss you goodbye or if you'd find it too intimate. However, he doesn't have time to decide since he sees a tall blond guy coming to you.

"Y/N! You're here, thanks God!"

Jungkook frowns when he watches you smile softy at the guy. 'Who is he?' He wonders. There is no doubt that the feeling squeezing his heart is possessiveness, he has just felt it few minutes ago in the bar when he was kissing you.

"Well, good luck Y/N" he finally decides to say

"Thanks, see you soon!" You hide your disappointment with a smile and wave him good bye. You wished he'd kiss you or hug you.

"Is he your boyfriend?" Namjoon asks when Jungkook is back in his Mercedes

"Jungkook? No, not at all" You blush.

Trying to cover your red cheeks with your hands, you don't notice Namjoon's slight relief.

Your mind is filled with questions after the kiss. Jungkook is not your boyfriend, for sure, but you did make out with him. In public. Eventually, you're glad to spend most of the night working because you won't have to think about what this kiss fucking means.

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#bts jungkook #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts #jungkook #jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jeon jungkook #fanfic

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spctrsgf · 1 year

Text

a confession

summary: dreaming about losing the one person you couldn’t was bad enough, but now you can’t look at him without seeing that very image. and your counterpart isn’t gonna take that lightly.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: language, descriptions of blood and death, nightmares, PTSD of a sort?, angsty and then fluffy, friends to lovers cus im a sucker for it hehehe

a/n: i sincerely apologize for all the old (as in i initially wrote them a while ago) fics i've been posting, i've been working on this one oscar fic but i'm so demotivated to write it since i haven't seen scenes of a marriage and i need to a bit to write it :/

but enjoy din in honor of season three!

The kid tugged on your shirt, reaching for the piece of meat you were dangling over his head, garbling angrily. You laughed at his antics, lowering the treat and letting him eat it ferociously. Your gaze drifted to the hull door again, worry gnawing in your stomach in the wake of Din’s absence.

As if thinking of the man summoned him, the hatch creaked to life, lowering to reveal your companion. Your shoulders slumped and a smile caressed your lips at the sight of him in all his glory. You rushed over, taking the quarry in a hurry to have him to yourself. The quarry grumbled as you yanked her by the arm, shoving her in the carbonite chamber with no hesitation.

You slammed a hand on the button to your left, sealing her in. You turned around then, bouncing on your toes in excitement to spend time with your favorite person in the universe. You expected to see him standing near his armory, disposing himself of a few of his weapons. But instead you found him crumpled and on the floor, frantically fidgeting with his chest plate. “Din?!” You scrambled over, helping him pull off the offending piece of armor.

You worked diligently to get off the rest of his armor, growing increasingly worried at his labored breathing and shaky hands. You pulled off his shirt, bracing yourself for the damage-

No.

No amount of preparation could brace you for this.

A bullet wound punctured through his paling skin, gnarly and red. “Din, oh my god-“ you shot up to grab the bacta, huffing at the mere seconds you lost from getting up and grabbing it. You fell to your knees, tears falling freely from your eyes as you willed yourself to move as quickly as possible. “You’ll be okay.” You murmured.

“I-“ Din tried to gasp out words, but was cut off by a sharp inhale of pain.

“Don’t speak, please.” Your voice was hitched with alarm as sprayed him with bacta.

“Y/n.” He was barely breathing now.

“No,” you shook your head and sprayed more bacta. “You are going to be okay. I won’t let you die out on me-“

“Cy- cyare.”

“No, Din, do not give up on me!” Your hands cradled the beskar helmet. “I can't do this without you-“

“I’m s-“ his chest barely lifted and his grip on your hand was loosening. “Sorry.”

“Din Djarin, don’t you dare-“ your eyes fell to his chest, watching it inflate one last, shaky time before settling down to a stop. His hand dropped from yours, lifeless.

“No,” you gathered his hand in yours again. “No no no no-“ you dug through the med kit, looking for anything that could bring him back to life. Your fingers shook and your vision blurred and your heart pounded in your ears, but you still came up empty handed. You cradled his body in your arms, sobbing hysterically at the loss of the man you loved.

“Din, you stupid oblivious idiot, I loved you. I still do, and I always will.”

You shot up abruptly from your makeshift bed, nearly screaming at the sudden change of scenery. Your face was soaked with tears and your body with sweat as you regained your bearings. Your previously tense shoulders fell in relief when you couldn’t find your beskar covered companion covered in blood on the floor.

You stood up from the floor, running a hand through your tousled hair. The fresher was a few steps away, and you walked in to come face to face with yourself in the mirror. You could see the bags hugging the bottoms of your eyes, as well as the small sheen of sweat and your red eyes from crying. Your hands shook slightly as you attempted to tame your appearance.

Your hands.

You whipped them down and into your line of sight, flipping them this way and that to check if there was any blood. When you found none, you deemed yourself presentable enough to leave the room.

You ventured back into the hull and through your daily chores, falling into mindless motions. You hummed a tune, hoping it would erase your previous nightmares.

It was so real. You could feel the brush of his gloved fingers, smooth and worn, smell the mix of the woods and metallic blood, see every flash of the hull lights on his beskar. You could hear his labored breathing loud and clear, even though you weren’t dreaming anymore. You could hear the nickname he’d never called you in real life but the one you’d found out was a word in Mando’a.

You shouldn’t be dreaming about this, it was crazy. You and Din weren’t- he didn’t feel the same. Din was quiet, but he was assertive. If he felt something, he would tell you. Right? Had the years of solitude caught up to him? He was never nervous, he caught people for a living. There was no way he would be worried about this. You were delusional, you decided. This was crazy and he didn’t feel the same.

You realized at that moment that you hadn’t seen Din all morning. Your breath caught again as you shoved down your fear, telling yourself it was for the better. You didn’t know what would spur from you after seeing his helmet, whether it would be waves of relief or crushing pain.

The sound of a garble echoed from your right side, following the sound of the hull door opening. You could hear the heavy footsteps of the very man that had been occupying your thoughts all morning.

Speak of the devil.

Your hands tightened around the sheet you’d been folding, holding your breath for the words he’d never say. You held still in the exact same position, the only part of your body moving being the rise and fall of your chest. Din’s movements slowed to a stop, and you could feel his gaze on you. “Sorry we’ve been gone,” he started, causing you to jump in surprise. “I went to take the kid for a walk.”

Your jaw tightened, but you managed out an “it’s alright.”

He paused again. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, forcing your hands to work again at folding the sheet.

You expected him to let it go. He always did: never pushed and prodded, just let you mellow out until your feelings subsided. But instead he came up beside you, grabbing one edge of the sheet and folding it in towards yourself. You swallowed sharply and drilled your eyes into the sheets, only nodding in thanks.

He huffed. “Y/n.”

“Din.” You responded in the same even tone.

“You're gonna tell me what’s going on? Or am I gonna have to pry?”

You grabbed his end of the sheet, finishing the fold. “Leave it be.”

“You’re not looking at me.”

You turned to place the sheet down at the edge of the bed. “Astute observation.”

He scoffed. “That’s not normal. You always look me in the eye.”

“Din,” you paused facing away from him, hands starting to shake. ”please.”

The next moments were a blur. One second he was behind you, the next he was in front of you, merely two inches away. You didn’t react quick enough, weren’t able to tear your gaze away from him. Your eyes met the thin strip of his visor, and oh boy-

The blood, running along the rim.

The way his head fell backwards in pain.

The shallow breaths, accentuated by the modulator.

“I’m- I’m sorry.”

You tore your eyes away with a startled gasp, turning and sprinting down the open hatch door. You had to get out, you had to get away from it. Everything about him was too much like a nightmare, it was too real. The image had to be imprinted onto the back of your eyes, it was so vivid.

You willed your breath to slow and calm as you walked, but even the thought of that was hard. You ventured a little ways away from the Razor Crest, finding a nice rock expertly placed between two trees. You settled against it with a rattled sigh, gazing out into the forest. If you squinted, you could see the ocean from here: it’s shimmery sheen and the deep cobalt blue that filled it.

The thought was calming. Seeing the wilderness in a way you hadn’t before, learning to appreciate the little things you’d been lucky enough to see and experience on this never ending ride with Din.

Din.

Shit. The calm left you as soon as it came, swept away by gnawing guilt and unsaid feelings. All those things he would have been able to experience, all of the things you needed to tell him but never quite could. It was too late.

You shot up abruptly, sending a sharp pain to your head and tunneling your vision. You shook your head with a groan, deciding to venture away from the spot that now reminded you of him. Of what you could have shown him-

No. You scolded yourself for going down that track, focusing on putting on foot in front of the other. You met the silver metal of the Razor Crest some five minutes after, leaning against it in hopes to take some of its cold for yourself. The feeling also calmed you, but you were sure it’d be gone as soon as it came. This was Din’s-

The crunching of boots cuts your thoughts short.

You considered running. It would be fruitless, though, even if he couldn’t see your legs right now; he was undoubtedly faster than you. You considered yelling at him to stay away as well, but did you really want him to? You compromised, turning and giving him your back. You curled into yourself, hunched over slightly as he rounded the corner.

To say Din was confused was an understatement. You’d been acting weird all morning, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done something to upset you. Even now, when he passed the last of the ship obscuring his view, you hid from his gaze. What did he do? What should he do? He didn’t like this, the cold shoulder, not one bit. He had to fix this.

You could feel it on your back, his inquisitive gaze. You knew what the silent look meant. You sighed quietly as you waited for his evaluation, knowing he’d nail it on the dot. You waited for the quick sentence, the sounds of his footsteps squelching receding into the distance.

But he didn’t do that this time.

This time was different. He knew it, you knew it. You both knew that this wasn’t just a dream about losing your family or having to run away from your home or the kid, it was deeper, the pain was deeper. You knew from the sharp intake of his breath that he wasn’t going anywhere unless he got a real answer from you, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to give it yet.

His hand landed on your shoulder in the midst of your thoughts, causing you to jump. “Maker, Din-“ you started your sentence, but were abruptly cut off by him spinning you around. You kept your eyes firmly at his feet, not wanting to spark another burst of panic. “Y/n.” His voice was surprisingly soft compared to his normal brisk tone.

You nodded.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s really nothing you need to concern yourself with, Din, I’ll be fine.”

He paused, and you wondered if he was going to take your sentence and leave you be. “Bullshit.”

Your eyes widened, and you nearly threw your head up to meet his visor. Din had sworn before, but never at you. “What?”

“You heard me.” His voice was hard.

“I’m telling the truth.” You were not.

He chuckled, actually chuckled. “You’re a really bad liar, you know.”

“I know. I used to be really good.” You deflated.

Din squeezed your shoulder. “You gotta talk about it, y/n, trust me. Solitude and nightmares are not a good combo.”

“You’re not gonna like it, Din.”

“Try me.”

Your hands clasped together so you could fidget with the ring on your finger. “It was- the kid and I were waiting for you after a mission. You were taking a while, I remember, and we were starting to get antsy. And then you came back and I was so excited to see you and I grabbed the quarry-“

“I wouldn’t let you do that.”

You huffed.

He sighed. “Sorry, go on.”

“I grabbed the quarry and put him in the carbonite chamber that you think I don’t know how to use but I do, and then I turned around,” your breaths became shaky. “You were on- on the floor. You were bleeding and you were barely breathing and you were struggling and you kept trying to talk and I was telling you to shut the fuck up because I was trying to save you and I tried and tried but I- I couldn’t. You were dead. You were gone and I couldn’t do anything and I tried everything in that stupid first aid kit, I tried the bacta and the gauze but you were- you weren’t with me and I swear my heart was ripped right out of my chest.”

Your shoulders slumped in shame but also in relief, in letting go of that burden you’d been carrying for less than four hours but had ripped through every fiber of your being. Your declaration hung heavily in the misty air, Din not moving a single muscle. You assumed he was processing your words, but right now those very words were gnawing at your brain.

You waited patiently as he contemplated, or at least you thought he was. The slight incline of his helmet was leading you to think that, but he was slightly hard to read at the moment. You began to kick the ground as you stood rather awkwardly, not making full eye contact and rather looking over his shoulder.

The shake of his helmet in your peripheral told you he was in fact alive and awake, easing some pressure you hadn’t even noticed was on your chest. His hand still rested on your shoulder, which twitched as if he wanted to move it but decided otherwise. “Wow.” He said finally.

Your eyes went wide in fear. “You don’t have to say anything, we can go inside and pretend this never happened. I can do that.”

“No, no, it’s alright,” his helmet tilted up and away from your face. “That was just a lot.”

You smiled sadly, your eyes meeting the leafy ground. “Yeah.”

You two simmered in the silence for a while longer, him surely going back to thinking in his head. You didn’t know what to expect at this point: Din had surprised you so many times in the past ten minutes that you weren’t sure any of your old rules applied anymore. And frankly, that was making you very nervous.

You were trying to train yourself for the unexpected when Din made his next move. His hand left your shoulder to cup your jaw, tilting it upwards to meet his visor. Your eyes automatically went left to trace the reflective surface of the Razor Crest, eliciting a huff. “Why won’t you look at me?”

“Because if I do, all I can see is your lifeless body and the smear of blood from where I grabbed your face.”

“Um, okay,” He frowned in defeat and then in confusion. “Wait, why are you so scared of losing me?”

You huffed. “Are you serious? Because I care about you, Din. More than I should, probably. You gave me a home, and you treated me as somebody. How could I not care, how could I not worry about losing you?”

Silence, and then-

“So you’re in love with me?” His voice was aloof, but you could hear the nervousness seeping in.

Your head rotated to meet his visor, calculating the tilt and his stance. Your brain reeled and tried to shove your nightmares into your head, but you pushed them away from the foreground. “I am, got a problem with that?” You willed to match his tone with your own.

He drew back slightly, and you fretted, but you held your ground and waited. You weren’t going to run away from your feelings this time. He held your stare, stepping towards you. “Not at all.”

You swallowed. “Alright, I guess that’s settled.”

“Mhm.”

“So..”

“Yes?”

Oh, so he was gonna make you say it? “Din. C’mon, don’t be this way.”

“Be what way?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“No, care to enlighten me?” You could hear the smile.

You gritted your teeth. “Fine, never mind. I’m going to check on the kid.” If he didn’t want to say it, then it wasn’t coming out.

You shook his hand from your jaw and pushed past him, making sure to bump his shoulder on the way out. Your breaths were heavy after the confessions and the lack of his own, fueling into anger as you stormed into the ship. The Child sat in his hammock, staring right at you. His pearly black eyes felt like they stared through you and relayed everything that had happened out in front of him.

You sighed, venturing over to him and sitting on the edge of Din’s cot. “What did I just do, Kid?”

He garbled eagerly.

“Yeah yeah,” you leaned against the frame. “I know.”

He garbled again.

“Jeez, you don’t have to be rude about it! I know I fucked up.” Your eyes were shut in frustration.

The kid was silent.

“Kid?”

The sound of the hatch door closing was the only response, and you opened your eyes to see the Mandalorian staring right at you.

Blood dripping down his-

No. Stop.

You shook your head to clear the nightmares, but it wasn’t working as well as you were hoping it would. You opted to tilting your head back again, closing your eyes. The silence ensued, and you could feel the heat of his gaze. “You gonna say something?” You asked, not moving.

“Yeah, I was.”

“Was?” You tilted your head.

“You look tired. Maybe later.”

You opened your eyes. “I’m listening.”

He sighed, and you could see him fidget with his gloves out of the corner of your eyes. “Do you know what you just declared to me?”

“That I loved you, yes.” It was out in the open now, no reason avoiding it.

“And if I say I love you too, you know what that means?”

“That we’ve got a romantic bond?” The Kid peeked over the edge of the hammock to stare at Din.

“No,” you scoffed and he glared at you. “Well, yes, obviously, but what I meant is that you’re committing to me, and vice versa. We’re bonded. For life.”

You nodded, looking at his visor, which was turned upwards. “Okay, yeah. What about it?”

“That means seeing-“ he met your gaze. “Seeing my face.”

Your eyes widened. “Your face?”

He nodded.

“No way,” You stood up and walked over to him, the shock tinting your vision. “Are you joking? Cus it’s not funny.”

“No, I’m not.” His voice sounded confused by your actions.

You pondered the hesitance in his voice with a fine toothed comb. “Do you not want to?”

“No, I want to, it’s just-“

You nodded. “No one has seen you without it.”

“No one in a very long time.” He confirmed.

“Whenever you’re ready,” you grabbed his hand. “You can tell me you love me if you do, you can take off your mask and show me that beautiful face of yours. Whenever you want, okay? I’ll be here, I’m not going anywhere.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay.” You smiled up at him, going to turn around, but then his hand was gripping your hip and halting you.

“I love you.”

Your head tilted in confusion. “But what about what you said-“

“Yeah. That’s right now.”

You full on grinned. “Really? Um, okay.”

“Are you ready?” His hands rested on the edge of his helmet.

“Never been more ready.”

And then you heard a whooshing sound, hardly audible over your pounding heart. Your hands twisted together as you waited in anticipation, excited and nervous. The prospect of putting a face to his voice and his name was thrilling, and the fact that you were the first to see his face in years? That left you with a fuzzy warmth in your stomach.

You couldn’t pull your eyes away as the beskar was pulled upwards, revealing his face. Your gaze followed the path of the helmet as you saw his sharp jawline, the little speckles of his two day aftershave, the mustache that he seemed to be keeping in well order, the contour of his nose, his deep brown eyes, the mop of hair that was unruly but had been matted down by his helmet.

You met his eyes again, finding them on you wearily, his lip caught between his teeth as he gauged your reaction. Your breath caught at the real eye contact and the way he couldn’t conceal his feelings. You could see the nervousness in his face, even in his stance. Everything about him seemed so clear now, and you broke into a wide smile.

“You’re beautiful.”

#i need to write for din more often #also this is so dramatic lol i apologize #the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #din djarin fluff #um idk what other tags to use lol

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