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milksuu · 6 months

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Sorry, Mom. I'm The New Cleaning Lady For Heartsteel

Pairings: various!Heartsteel x f!reader

Status: on-going (Cross posted on AO3)

Content/Warnings: 18+ content, explicit themes, suggestive language

Summary: Identity theft was a crime—that was obvious. But when it meant paying off the bills for basically existing and your mother’s hospital expenses, committing a felony didn’t seem like a bad thing. It was like that one quote, from that one band, with that one hit song: “Two sides to a story but they never tell me side.”

Or…something like that. Wait, what was their name again? Heartsteel? Sounds like a dating sim game.

[Reader takes the identity of her mother, who had been hired to be the new cleaning lady for an up and coming boy band named ‘Heartsteel’. Obviously, there’s no way they would ever find out. But that was a joke. Because they’re definitely finding out: one by one.]

“You…brought your own cleaning supplies?”

“You always need to be prepared, young man,” you replied, adjusting your duck-yellow cleaning gloves. They squeeked and flopped comically around your hand and fingers.

“Ma’am, you do understand today is solely the house tour.” The man folded his arms neatly against his chest, white brow raised. “In order to rely on you fully, you’ll need to be familiar with the estate first. I thought we discussed this beforehand. That and…we have cleaning supplies to provide you with here.”

You paused at the grand modern entrance. You lifted your bucket full of sponges, brushes, and cleaning spray from the dollar store. 'Buy-one-get-one' on all cleaning supplies was the grand deal of the day. How could you pass a penny-pinching bargain? Swallowing your shame, you settled the cheap items on the pristine granite floors.

“Oh, is that so? Must’ve slipped my mind. Age will do that to you.” You forced a chuckle, adjusting your sterile mask across your youthful face. “That and, I have such a passion for cleaning. I can't help myself. I see the inside of a house, and I just have to clean it. I’m sure you could understand that.”

“I don’t believe I could,” your employer said dryly. “Anyway, if you will, follow me.”

You nodded and shuffled along accordingly. As you stared into the back of his immaculately pressed business attire, a new-found horror struck through you: you had no clue what your employer’s name was. Frantically, you scavenged your pockets. From it, you pulled out a business card, holding it so close to your face you smelled the tinge of clean cologne.

YONE

RIOT RECORDS

DJ / PRODUCER

EMAIL: [email protected]

TELEPHONE: XXX-XXX-XXXX

“The bottom floor consists of all of the amenities; gym, entertainment area, recording studio and so on.” Yone stated as he stepped into the open-kitchen plan. When he regarded you again, you awkwardly plunged the card back into your pants pocket. “The boys have their own scheduled chores every week. They’re expected to do it without you having to help them. I’m trying to keep them humble, but easier said than done. Refer to the chore calendar on the fridge. And try not to interfere with it too much.”

“Okay—who switched my protein powder with flour?” Behind an opened cabinet, a heavy-muscled stacked man growled. “Guys. Seriously. This stuff’s expensive. Where’d it go?” When he poured the contents out into the trash can, he plucked out a note from the bottom of the canister. The small print read:

‘Protein powder tastes like dog food.’’

The weight of realization punched him square between the eyes. He threw open the pantry, where dog kibble was stored in a tub at the bottom marked ‘Ernest’. Sett pulled open the container, and sure enough, found his protein powder and scooper. There was no mistaking his favorite smell of cinnamon crunch isolate, now mixed with the scent of dry-bacon kibble. Another note pasted the inside lid:

‘Woof–Woof ฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅ’

“A–phe–li–os,” the name gritted between his canines. His ears flattened against his untamed hair, and crumpled the note to dust in his palm. “Oh–Ho. Mess with me all you want; but never mess with my gains. I’m gonna’ prank him back so hard tonight, he’s gonna’ be begging me to stop.”

“Sett,” Yone coughed, grabbing the Vistayan's attention. “We have a guest today. Our new cleaning lady.”

“Oh, sorry about that.” Sett wiped his powdered hand against his sleeveless shirt. He reached and took your rubber glove with a squelch. “Hey, how’s it goin’, Ma’am. The name’s Sett.”

You swallowed hard, hoping your glove would remain securely covering your hand. You feared if he pulled back, he would reveal a hand that wasn't so wrinkled for someone supposedly in their late-fifties. And that was according to your mother’s age printed on her driver’s license. Thankfully, you could tell he restrained himself to a delicate shake.

“Would talk more but gotta hit the gym. Nice meetin’ yah though,'' Sett started away, and called back over his shoulder. “Mom, can you take care of Phel for me? I dunno' where he hid the dog food for Ernest.”

Yone exhaled a silent sigh, and part of you felt pity for your employer. He seemed like a parent with a tag-team of overbearing children running around the house. Being a single parent was difficult; you knew this first hand from your own up-bringing. It made you grateful for your mother’s patience and attention. It was the reason you were here in the first place.

“Let’s continue with the tour upstairs,” Yone said, motioning you to a loft-style staircase. “The second floor consists of all the bedrooms and laundry room. At the end of the hall is my room. As it stands, it’s completely off limits to everyone, including yourself.” He turned a sharp chin in your direction, “Am I understood?”

You gulped and pressed your shoulders straight. “Of course.”

“Mommy, help me!” A bed of green hair bounced to Yone’s side, tugging at his tailored suit. “Kayn’s bullying me again. But I didn’t do anything wrong, I swear.”

“You’re such a crappy liar.” The presumed assailant, Kayn, stomped out of the hallway bathroom. Magenta hair stuck to his furrowing brows. With just a towel wrapped around his steaming waist, his abdominal muscles tensed, pointing aggressively at his target. “I was trying to shower in peace, until bubblegum pop princess over here came barging in trying to take selfies of himself. Did you know people usually shower naked? I’d like my junk not to be posted on social media, unless I’m the one doing it. For cash.”

“It’s not my fault you’re always going over your shower limit. News flash: we each only get fifteen-minutes. But you’re always breaking the rules! You know I take my selfies at the same time, at the same place, every single day. So how about you do us all a favor, and get some better time management?”

Kayn raised a vein popping fist into the air. “How about I get you a better face instead?"

Ezreal cried fake sparkling tears, cowering further behind their producer.

“Enough. The both of you,” Yone tightened around his words like a leash, restraining the quarreling pair. “For once, I’d like for you two to at least pretend you get along in front of others.”

The two whined and grumbled under their breaths till they fell to a silent agreement. But the peace treaty wasn’t upheld for long. You saw a zap of yellow from the corner of your eye. The image was so fast, you thought you must’ve imagined it—Nope. You definitely saw something. Kayn’s towel knot popped loose. And it wasn’t caused by an event of divine intervention.

The towel billowed towards the ground. And the world felt as if it was turning in slow motion, like one of those car chase movies with excessive explosions. Except, the only explosion here would be your very own heart.

Sure, you took an anatomy class here and there. In high school, you remembered the penis joke’s and games, and they never flustered you. Heck, not even when your friends set your desktop screen to a .gif of dicks spinning in circles—you found that hilarious. And when anatomy classes began in college, they were all very clinical, rudimentary, and otherwise a snooze fest.

But seeing one in real life when you’ve never had a boyfriend or a one night stand, was truly groundbreaking. Earth shattering, even.

Penis (en)counter: 1

While you were stuck in your prison of naïve embarrassment, Ezreal laughed and pulled out his cell phone, camera light shuttering a mile a minute.

“You little shi—!” Time sped forward again. With fast reflexes of his own, Kayn whipped the towel and knot back in place. “That’s it. You’re dead.”

“Uh–Oh. Time to run again,” Ezreal quipped, zooming off down the stairs.

With all bark and full bite, Kayn vanished like a cloud of smoke in pursuit. You coughed against the smog, while Yone merely swatted his hand back and forth, dissipating the gray wisps.

“You’ll have to excuse them,” he commented. “They share the same room, but have vastly different personalities. I arranged most of them together, thinking it’d help them understand each other on a deeper level. And ultimately, help them perform better together in the studio and on stage. My efforts are…yet to be determined.”

“That’s alright. Can’t be easy for young men their age to share anything. Especially with them being full of energy, testosterone, and other things. O-Oh, to be young once more…ah-ha…” you laughed nervously. Oh, God. What the heck were you saying? Honestly, you had to give pardon to yourself. You were still trying to recover from seeing your first penis up close and personal.

The image would be forever burned in your mind.

You were pulled from your self-conscious thoughts. Down the hall, a pair of shadowed eyes peeked through a sliver of door and frame. When your gaze locked together, the other pair of eyes shifted shyly from side to side. As if a poltergeist existed within the room, the visage faded back into the uncanny crack of darkness. The door creaked closed, with an audible click and lock.

Yone pursued straight to the door, and you stood a few paces back. If there was any chance that a ghost was inside living rent-free, you wouldn't be the first it possessed. You weren't a certified Ghostbuster.

But you also weren't a certified Dustbuster, either. No one will know, know one will know, you chanted the comforting hymn.

“Aphelios. Open the door. I know you’re in there. I can see the computer light flashing,” Yone stated, rattling the door knob. “Where’s the kibble for the dog? Sett told me you have it somewhere.”

There was a beat in the air. From behind the door, you heard feet pacing back and forth, and the sounds of finger taps against a phone screen. Yone’s phone pinged with an alert. He pulled it out, and opened his text messages.

‘I can’t open the door all the way. I set the bucket of dog food to fall on Sett’s head when he comes in. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ’

“For the love of…no more pranks today." Yone pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan. "But I doubt you could even manage that. Whatever trap you’ve ensembled, take it down—now. And put the dog’s food back in the pantry. Unless you want to donate a cut of your earnings every month to Ernest’s pet store bill.”

Another pause, followed by begrudging phone taps.

‘Fine, m O T h E r…(¬_¬")’

“That might take him a few. Depending how intricate the set up was. I would be surprised if the only thing involved in this scheme was just the dog food.” Yone motioned you back down the stairs. “Last thing to see is the outdoor space.”

Continuing with the tour, you passed through the lower floor, stepping down a hallway decorated with awards and magazine clippings. From commercial modeling gigs to sold out venues, your eyes glistened at the polished look the group was slowly cultivating. Which you had to admit, completely contradicted their personal lives.

When you reached a sliding glass door that stretched from floor to ceiling, you stepped out onto a landscaped deck. Lush modern garden trims, a shaded outdoor lounge, and smooth sandstone pavement decorated the space. At the backend, an infinity pool rested in pristine stillness.

At the head of the pool, a person of sculpted bronze physique posed in swimwear on a lounge chair. When you approached along with your chaperone, he picked up his tropical drink, and tilted it in a cheering gesture.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Mama gracing me with his presence. And look's like someone else is with him, too.” The man basking in the sun's rays and oil slicked, shucked his sunglasses onto his dread locks. “Let me guess. This must be the new cleaning lady you hired to pick up after our mess.”

“To a certain degree,” Yone replied. “But not all of the mess, K’Sante. Out of everyone, you should know better.”

“I only joke, Mama.” He grinned smoothly, taking a sip of his frozen alcoholic refresher. “Say, have you seen Sett? I told him to come join me for a tan by the pool. If he wants his muscles to truly pop, he needs to use some oil and not be allergic to the sun. The man is whiter than the sky is bright today.”

As he laughed to himself, Ernest left his chew toy at the far side of the pool, and came to sniff your shoes. With a smile, you slipped a very small piece of your long sleeve up, allowing him to sniff at your skin. The dog lapped his tongue around his slobbering chops, barking delightedly and pawing for you to pet him. You were more than happy to oblige.

These gloves came in handy after all, you thought pleasantly as globs of saliva fell in heaps over your fingers.

“What’s this? Ernest taking a liking to the cleaning lady already,” K’Sante mused at the sight. “Barely warmed up to us when we first met. We won’t mention the illegal trespassing but, call me impressed.”

With a wink, he flicked his sunglasses back down to the bridge of his nose. “That or he has a ‘ting for older women. Can’t say I blame ‘em. An experienced woman has a certain power that’ll make any grown man cry. And from my own experience, it is never for mercy.”

Oh, boy. You couldn’t imagine your mother being interested in the cougar life-style. Not that you would approve of it. And you were certain your father would descend from the heavens and deliver the backhand of God to any young man who dared otherwise.

Before Yone could address the unsavory statement, Ezreal burst through the backyard sliding doors. Still possessed with laughter, he hopped and skipped over pool chairs and tables. The merriment stopped short when Kayn caught up to the cheeky idol, snatching his wrist which held the phone. From the staggering halt, the phone slipped from Ezreal’s hold, somersaulting towards the pool.

“M-My phone!” Ezreal paled at the thought of losing thousands of stored photos of himself—Oh, and the blackmail photos he was going to use against Kayn, too.

Yanking his wrist free, Ezreal pursued the device. But Ernest’s rubber hotdog toy squealed beneath him, forcing him off balance. Kayn latched an arm around Ezreal's slim waist, and pressed him safely against his bare chest.

He huffed against Ezreal's ear. “You can’t swim, you idiot. Remember? Just let it go.”

Ernest barked at the surmounting commotion. Being the valiant guard dog with the perfect pedigree, he bounded on his thick paws to catch Kayn by the towel, with all the intent to keep them both from falling in. What a good boy! Unfortunately for Kayn, Ernest bit a bit more than he could chew.

Kayn’s voice bass boosted ten-octaves lower. “MY DAMN ASS!”

W-Whose voice was that? Was that even the same person? The thought rattled through you.

A chunk of Kayn's soft meat condensed in the jaws of a furry devil. A shock travelled up the nerves of his spine, into the the muscle fibers of his arm, shoving Ezreal forward. Ezreal flailed his hands in the air, desperate to find some semblance of balance—with no luck, at all. Fumbling on his tip-toes, Ezreal plummeted into the pool with a splash. Kayn stumbled from the after-shock of his spirit being bitten straight through his buttcheeks. His feet met the cursed rubber squeaker, sending him following suit into the pool. Except, the towel had its own plans. It decided to stay behind and not get involved.

Penis (en)counter: 2

“I heard some commotion, fellas. What’s goin’ on?” Sett stepped out from the sliding doors. He caught witness of Ezreal’s face treading water, gasping for bouts of air. Sett’s muscles popped at the sight, barreling towards the scene. “Don’t worry, Ez. I’m coming for yah, buddy!”

Sett launched himself into the air, preparing the most athletic Olympic dive ever conceived.

Kayn inhaled sharply as he broke through the water's surface tension. Recuperating his breaths, he slicked his wet hair back from his face. Looking down at the waters crystal reflection, an odd shadow grew in size around him. And according to the forecast earlier; there was no chance in Hell of clouds or rain. Lifting his nose to the darkening sky, he blanched in sheer horror. A body, massive enough to eclipse the sun, hurled down like a meteor descending to Earth.

What day was it today, Doomsday? He must've forgot; Kayn never bothered to look at calendar's, anyway.

Back to the painful mistress that was his life; a weak, painful moan escaped him. “You can’t be serious. This isn’t the cool death I deserve—”

Those were Kayn’s final words. A wave rivaling a tsunami consumed him, a random pizza chair float, and the immediate surrounding pool area. Standing in the designated splash zone, pool water soaked your soles, leached into your socks, and dampened your pants to the knees. From K’Sante’s spot, a shot of chlorine or two spiked his drink. He snatched his sunglasses off and shouted the words; “This was the last bit of banana daiquiri mix, you aboas! Now I have to go down to the liquor store and hope they sell it frozen already.”

Yone, with all the grace anyone could hope to be blessed with, merely side-stepped away. A single speck landed on his polished shoes. He narrowed his steely eyes, flicking away the insignificant drop.

You caught something flashing on the second floor of the estate. Looking up, you shielded your eyes from the glaring sun. From one of the windows, you spotted someone holding up a sign. You assumed it was Aphelios. The poster read:

‘4/10 Ezreal. 6/10 Kayn. 10/10 Sett.’

With a dramatic burst through the water, Sett hurled Ezreal over his massive shoulder, and walked out of the pool. Placing Ezreal onto his soaking back, he coughed and gagged against the awful taste of treated water.

He smiled at his new-found savior. “Thanks, Sett. I’m fine, but what about Kayn…”

The group shifted their attention over the silent, lapping water. After a bubble or two, the sight of Kayn’s bare bottom surfaced to the top. Floating like a wet and rounded land-mass, with the additional landmark of a pink dog-bite.

“Kayn! Hang in there, pal!” Sett launched himself once more into the water, creating another wave of soaking magnitude.

Although the drink had already been spoiled, K’Sante reflexively covered the top of his daiquiri glass. “For God’s sake, Sett. Take your time. It’s not like you’re saving the life of an innocent man.”

As chaos continued to ensue around the gang, Yone placed himself at your side. With a shake of his head, he crossed his arms, and sent a ghost of a smile your way.

“Welcome to Heartsteel,” he said. “Your first day starts tomorrow.”

Looks like your identity was safe…for now, at least.

an: thanks for reading! the rest of the this story will most likely just be on my AO3. You can find me @ milksuu. comments and suggestions always welcomed. <3

#heartsteel #league of legends #Heartsteel x reader #kayn x reader #ezreal x reader #aphelios x reader #Sett x reader #K'Sante x reader #Yone x reader #reader insert #league of legends fanfiction #cross posted on ao3 #divider by @benkeibear

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lunamugetsu · 1 month

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House Husband Danny

(Remember this post I made: Danny is a househusband. Well I decided to make it into a story) Crossposted from AO3. Here's a link

Location: Unknown, Date: Unknown

Three figures emerged from a glowing pit of green water, gasping for air as they dragged themselves out.

A man with dark skin was breathing heavily and went to shake the pale man with dark hair that was still unconscious. He paused as another hand was raised motioning for him to stop. He looked over at the women with long black hair.

“He’s tired, let him rest.” She said

“What are we going to do?” the woman merely smiled as she turned to fix the damp hair that was covering the unconscious man’s face.

“Simple… Danny will rest and heal…and we will live like the rulers we are.” She turned to look at her other partner.

“Yes… we will,” he confirmed as they both smiled while looking at their love.

Present Day

Danny hummed as he put away the newly washed dishes from dinner.

Ah, how nice it was to be in a home where the food didn’t come alive and try to declare war on him.

One less thing to worry about.

Now that dinner was eaten and leftovers were put away. He could focus on the package that came in the mail, he had been waiting for it for weeks.

Tucker and Sam had called ahead to say that they were working late.

What a shame.

Danny sat down in the living room and turned on the tv while cracking open the package.

“This is Lois Lane reporting for the Daily Planet! Breaking news as the Justice League members Superman and Wonder Woman are fighting off villains in Metropolis! They have been identified as the new villains: Upload and Nightshade. They made their first appearance known to the world a couple months ago- JIMMY LOOK OUT!”

The camera shook for a moment before stabilizing showing Superman was holding onto Lois Lane and Wonder Woman was holding onto the cameraman.

“It’s not safe here, please evacuate to a safer area.” Superman said before speeding off with Wonder Woman following close behind.

“Jimmy get a shot! That’s Nightshade!” the reporter said pointing to a large plant-like monster made of vines and thorns that was the size of a skyscraper. The cameraman zoomed in on the figure that was currently sitting on the monster’s shoulder. A woman with long black hair that appeared as if it was almost floating in an ethereal manner. She was a pale woman wearing a black skintight bodysuit with matching thigh high boots, black bandages were wrapped around her forearms while her hands lit up with a neon green energy along with her eyes. Nightshade smiled, turning to look straight into the direction of the camera before saying some words that the camera couldn’t pick up before humongous vines started filling up the camera’s screen, the sound of screaming could be heard before the feed was cut.

“That doesn’t look good,” Danny commented before turning back to the open package.

Ooh, that fabric did feel as soft as it was advertised! He better try it on to see it fit. He knew he checked the measurements before placing the order but still, mistakes always happened. He was also still a little hungry, perhaps some fruit from the fridge would be good.

It was a couple of minutes before the for the news to come back on. Danny sat down on the couch, sporting a plate of fruit with a side of whipped cream to dip it in. He plopped one into his mouth as the tv started airing the news again.

The camera lens managed to stay undamaged as the camera man and the reporter were taking cover behind the corner of a building focusing on the figure that was currently standing in front of a fallen Superman that was grimacing as the green light from the glowing rock in the figure’s gloved hand seemed to intensify. It also didn’t help that there appeared to be a set of special cuffs that were encasing the superheroes hands, forcing them together.

“And here I was thinking that defeating you couldn’t be that easy… well then again. Can’t expect a superhero to just not react to their greatest weakness. Kryptonite wasn’t really hard to track down who had a stash of these, it was even easier to take it. ” The figure was a man with dark skin with long dreadlocks and was wearing a visor that covered hi eyes from view. He wore a long coat with short sleeves letting people see the robotic gloves that went up all the way up his arms. The camera picked up a hum emanating from the robotic arms and crack of electricity.

“Why? Why are you doing this, Upload?” Superman said as he made to force himself to stand despite his bound hands.

“Hmm, wealth, fame, power, pettiness, destroying all the buildings I want without needing to pay for it, or maybe I just don’t like people who call themselves heroes,” Upload said as he moved to the side as Wonder Woman was thrown into a building.

“Truly, I thought they’d give more of a challenge,” Nightshade commented as the plant-monster then slammed a hand down onto Wonder Woman encasing the superhero in vines making it practically impossible for the woman to rip out of.

Danny hummed as he looked at the news.

He should probably help… he stuck a strawberry into his mouth.

“How do you think we should do this, Nightshade? Slowly and methodical, or fast and exciting?” Upload turned to look at Nightshade.

“Obviously, something with mo-“

RING! RING! RING!

The two supervillains looked towards each other. Upload taking out a phone from his pocket while Nightshade motioned for the plant monster to give her, her bag so she could take out her phone.

“Hello/Hello.” Thy said answering their phone in unison.

“You’re hungry?” Nightshade asked.

“We did say we were working late, you’re welcome to eat out if you want- huh? I mean, what are you wearing?” Upload said

The two paused and looked at each other.

“The thing you ordered a couple weeks ago?” Upload said, “the red one?”

“That’s made with silk?” Nightshade hands were clenching down onto her phone.

“And you’re eating,” Upload looked over at Nightshade.

“Strawberries and whipped cream,” She said.

Ding! Ding!

The two turned to their phone at having received a message. The villains looked at their phone and then to each other.

“We’ll be there in ten!” they said in unison before putting away their phones.

It happened quickly.

With a wave her hand, all of the plants started retreating back away from the superheroes while saying some words that the camera couldn ’t pick up and a portal opened right next to her.

Meanwhile Upload placed the kryptonite into a contain while hitting some buttons that were on his gloves and the cuffs that were on Superman unlocked and fell off the man ’s wrists.

Nightshade motioned for the now human-sized plant monster to walk through the portal while Upload was walking up to her.

“Wait! Where do you think you’re goin-” Wonder Woman and Superman held their ears as a loud sound echoed out a tool that Upload threw on the ground.

“Oh no! How dare you heroes foil our evil plan!” Nightshade said in a dead tone before grabbing Upload by his collar, “c’mon we gotta go!”

The two ran into the portal, disappearing out of sight, leaving nothing but the aftermath of the destruction of the fight they had with the two heroes.

“I’m sorry, what the heck just happened?!” Lois Lane said, turning to look at the camera.

Danny hummed as he turned off the tv and took his plate of food with him as he got off the couch.

He needed to get upstairs, after all, Sam and Tucker weren’t going to be working late after all.

The man sat himself into the master bedroom, it had a bed that was an Alaskan King size. Largest size of bed they could find, could easily fit a whole family of four on it. He didn’t even know beds came in that size.

Danny continued humming as he settled himself down in the middle of the bed. The sheets were made of Egyptian cotton. Ethically sourced, of course. Sam wouldn’t stand sleeping on something that was made by a company that destroyed the environment while simultaneously overworking and underpaying their employees. Tucker had come to the rescue, buying a set of sheets on his last trip from Egypt. They had to custom order it especially since their bed didn’t fit the common dimensions that mass production usually went by.

But he wasn’t complaining, the bed was really… nice.

He laid back against the pillows, wearing nothing but the little red number that came in the mail that day.

He dipped a strawberry into the whipped cream and took a bite out of it. Giving a hum as he enjoyed the taste. It was so nice not to have to worry about anything. No ghosts trying to kill him, no government agency trying to track him down to vivisect and kill him, no parents trying to shoot, vivisect, and kill him- Danny wondered if that was a normal amount of people to have to want to kill him.

Whatever, it didn’t matter anymore.

He smiled as he heard the sound of the front door being slammed open and shut followed by a furious pattering sound of feet going up the stairs. He hoped they’d taken their shoes off when they got in. He just vacuumed the house that afternoon.

The door to the bedroom opened with a bang as he saw Sam and Tucker, wearing their civilian clothing that they had clearly just thrown on with no thought of whether or not they should straighten out any of the clothes or at least to check if they put on their shirt inside out. It was a rule though, never bring work home, it always brought trouble. They had enough trouble dealing with ghosts to last a lifetime, let alone the afterlife.

“I’m hungry,” Danny said while taking a bite of a strawberry and licking off cream that caught on his lip. He could see them already looking at his mouth and trailing their eyes across the new article of clothing he was wearing.. The man curled his finger to motion for them to come closer.

“Come and feed me.” He smiled as his partners joined him in bed.

Ah, it was so nice when his partners didn’t work late nights.

#dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom x dc #dpxdc #dpxjustice league #everlasting trio #cross posted on ao3

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soapybutt17 · 8 months

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Night Showers

Summary: A shower, a missing condom, and Soap doing his best to get on his Captain's nerves (the 20 laps around the entire base was worth it). Character: John Price x F!Wife!Reader. Simon "Ghost" Riley. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick. John "Soap" MacTavish. Word Count: 2,168 Chapter Warnings: Smut. Unprotected Penetration. Creampies. P in V. Oral Sex (F receiving). Alternate Universe. Soap just being a little shit for the giggles and all. Unedited as usual. A/N: To the anon that sent me the request, this is for you. I just can't get this idea out of my head and it shows.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist || Request are Open

One of the few perks of being part of the upper ranks were the privilege of having your own time to bathe. But unlike other assholes that prefer being in first, you preferred to be the last one to step foot in the communal showers. You prefer taking your time, lathering yourself up to the perfect suds and savoring every single minute of the cold water against your skin.

You preferred your privacy as much as the next person and practically living in the base, you don’t get that privilege as often as you want unless you were here. It was ironic seeing it was a communal space and there was an off chance another female member of the base would slip back in but it was rare especially at this time of the night where you were certain almost everyone aside from the people on watch duty were fast asleep.

The frigid cold water would have woken you up but the longer you stood in the water, the more did you feel the weight of the day get to you and you were close to falling asleep from where you stood. You were close to ready to finally get to bed and sleep before the following day of drills.

You felt a hand before you realize it and instincts had equipped you to act fast and hit whoever was ballsy enough to touch you. But it seems your husband was faster than you as he held onto your fisted hand. A smirk playing on his lips for catching you off guard.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” You whispered screamed at him at this point. The panic of someone possibly entering immediately crossed your mind and the possibility of either of you (mostly him) getting in trouble for being in the same shower together.

“Locked the door on my way in if that’s what you’re worried about, Love.” He smirked and only now did you come to realize that he was butt naked just as much as you.

You felt the heat on your cheeks at the realization. It’s been far too long since you’ve had even a semblance of intimacy with your husband. With mission and reports constantly pulling the both of you apart, having him so close to you now only brought the much deprived need in you to come back full force for him to see.

“Fucking hell, cold as ice.” He muttered as the water has finally hit his skin.

Your eyes gazed at the bear of a man you had the privilege of calling your husband. The way the water slither against his hairy chest and down to his happy trail all the pent up desire has come and you did not know if you had the mental fortitude to resist him at this point.

“Seein’ something you like, Love?” He teased, his watercolor eyes gazing down at you as he caught you staring.

“Very.” You quipped turning back to the waters to wash away the last of the suds that was still covering your skin. “But I think you already know that by now.” You muttered looking over your shoulder to look down at his manhood alive and awake you to see.

“Most definitely.” He chuckled, his arms found their way around your waist, pulling you further into his torso, his manhood pressing against your back in the process. “And you could feel it right now.”

“John…” You warned. You’ve had far too many close calls with the man in the past, had it not been for everyone’s lack of idea about what was going on between the both of you, you both would have been caught in one too many compromising situation.

“I’m doing nothing, Love.” He chuckled, his hand slowly creeping from your stomach up towards the swells of your breast giving a gentle squeeze before one hand rested against the columns of your neck and the other holding onto your jaws to keep you in place. “Nothing at all.” He purred, lips finding their place against where your neck and shoulders met.

“John not here.” You warned him again, the fact that the doors to the showers were locked did not reassure you at all. You still fear the possibility that someone had seen you then seen your husband walk inside in the middle of the night.

“Where then? Name a time and place.” He propositioned.

“Your room, after you shower.” You finally relent knowing that when your husband was in the mood just as much as you were, nothing would stop him from having you.

“Deal.” He turned your head until your lips met his own in a searing kiss that drowned you more than the water that showered above you both.

Your hand found their way against his wet beard, trying and failing to control his kiss, savoring the first of many kisses he was more than willing to give you for the rest of the night.

Fuck Protocol. Fuck Reputation. You will be fucked and you will make the most out of it.

“I’ll meet you naked on your bed.” He practically commanded you now as he pulled away. Any other time you would have made the protest of him giving him orders the way that he did but you truly didn’t care at this point.

Nodding, you pulled away from his hold. The coldness of his absent touch did more damage than the water ever could. Without even looking back, you had toweled dried yourself and put on your clothes—ignoring the fact that it was your dirtied ones. You’re going to be naked once you’re back in bed anyways and made your way out of the showers and making sure to lock the door behind you in the process.

“God fucking damnit.”

With shaking legs, you peered down at your husband post-orgasm from between your legs as he began searching through his discarded pants. A few choice words escaped his lips as he continued on with his search. It was so unlike the Captain to be this antsy but it was given in the situation at hand.

“What?” You asked, dazed still from your release with just his mouth. You felt the ache on your lips from biting too hard and trying and somewhat failing to keep your moans and whimpers to a minimum.

“Condom.” He practically growled as he began to look around his room.

You blinked as his frustration was now in full force as he began to look around his room for another spare but no luck whatsoever.

“Just fuck me, John.” You whimpered, hand somehow finding their way towards your still too sensitive bud. Keeping yourself sated while you waited.

“But…”

“I’m on my pills, just fuck me already.” You were now practically demanding him at this point. “Please.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice as he dove right on top of you. Slotting himself in between your legs. He pulled you in for another searing kiss. Your arms and legs had immediately wrapped around him, urging him to finally fuck you but he was taking his sweet time—a time neither of you truly had with the night slowly fading into daylight.

“A fucking little menace you are, aren’t you?” He teased, grinding his pelvic bone against your nub. “Just so desperate for me are you?” He questioned, voice growling louder and instincts kicked in as you slapped your hand towards his mouth to quiet him down.

He did not like it one bit as he held both of your hands above your head.

“Did I fucking tell you to touch me, Pet?” He growled against your ears.

“John—you need to be quiet.” You whispered struggling to free from his hold.

“You don’t get to make orders here, Lieutenant.” He whispered against your ears, nipping at your lobe before his lips lingered against your cheeks and finding their way towards your lips but not truly kissing you. “Is that clear?”

“Yes.” You whimpered as his hips dug further into your core.

“Yes what, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, Captain.” You squealed as he finally slipped right into you.

The aching sting even with him preparing you lingered through your entire body. It was always a task in on itself as he held onto you. One hand held onto your own up above your head and the other held onto your leg and pulling it up as high as you physically could.

“Bloody fucking hell.” He groaned. “Fucking tight.” He muttered.

Without another word, his moved his hips, a gruelingly slow but deep pace that had you gasping at each piston. Your legs held onto his waist for dear life and your teeth bit against your lips stopping from any noise from escaping.

You watched all the control leave from your husband’s body as his thrust had gotten sloppy.

“Please…” You pleaded, even when you truly didn’t know what you were even begging for right now. “Please. Please. Please.”

You felt it before you realize what was going on, the spurts painted your insides and the mind numbing shiver that wrecked from your toes up to your head. You moaned, louder than you would have wanted it to be but your husband was quick to silence you with his lips. Pulling you into him, swallowing every moans and every whimper as he continued on with thrusting inside of you.

Finally, your husband had let go of your hands, you winced as blood began flowing right back and the familiar tingling sensation seeped through. He pulled away, looking down at you in the all too familiar adoration that you felt the same for him. You were sated, blissed and thoroughly satisfied from the longing you felt for your husband.

“Are you broken?” John inquired.

A playful smile rested on your face, the context that it was a question he often asked after any of his team were put in a bad spot. It was his own little way of asking anyone and everyone if they were alright.

“Split open, but I’ll survive.” You respond,

He smiled, chuckling at your antics. Before a flip has switch and his hand held onto you pulling you up and turning you until you were on your hands and knees. Without even missing a beat or even allowing you to say anything, he plunged himself right back into you.

“Good.” He chuckled leaning close to your ears. “There’s still more where that came from.”

Breakfast in the mess hall was boring and you preferred it that way. Enjoying your tea and toast and jam in the peace of the table you shared with John, Gaz, and Simon was all you could ask for after the grueling night you had with your husband.

Even from the frequent sips of his coffee, you know he was just trying his best to hide the smirk playing on his face. Last night had been a blur after the third round for you. When your husband was on a mission, nothing could truly stop him from taking what he wants and what he needed from you, you were all the more willing to give it to him if he needed it.

But with that being said, you also knew the consequences of your actions. The ache between your legs and the sore throat you were nursing with your ginger tea. There was also the array of hickeys and bruises that painted your entire body and you did your best to hide as much as possible even in the sweltering heat.

The next time you would even think about sleeping with your husband is when you’re both done with your deployment. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Aye Price!”

You winced, the peace of your own filthy thoughts of last night was ruined by Soap’s booming voice taking most of everyone’s attention (some already used to his morning antics, decided to just ignore him). You looked up towards the Scot and paled at the all too familiar foil packet in his grasp.

“Saw this in front of your room last night. Hope the lucky lady you had in your room was fine being raw dogged for the night.”

You could feel the fury boil from where you sat. You had noticed both Simon and Gaz strategically move a little farther away from where the Captain sat but they had an all good view of the man as he stood and ordered Soap to run the entire base twenty times.

It pissed John even more was the fact that Soap wasn’t all that afraid with his punishment, cackling as he skipped out of the mess hall, the condom still in his hand for everyone to see. Soap would truly not let him live this down.

His eyes slowly turned to you and this time it was you who was trying your best to hide the smile as you took another generous sip of your tea.

The consequence of his own actions it seems.

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immoralkombat · 7 months

Text

feeling(s)

Kenshi has been blind for maybe an hour or two.

Johnny looks over at him with sympathy. He's not sure what he could possibly do or say to make things seem any less bleak for him. The man was just trying to get his family's heirloom back and now, after months of training and dedication, one of his five senses is gone permanently through no fault of his own. If Johnny were in Kenshi's position, he's sure he'd be feeling just as desolate, if not more so.

Kung Lao is sitting in the far corner, talking to Baraka. He seems genuinely fascinated by Tarkat as a disease. Were Johnny not in the same situation as them, he would find that particular conversation topic a bit morbid. Right now, it's really all they have to talk about. They've already exhausted all the small talk options you normally go through when first meeting someone. They might as well start talking about the disease that'll eventually kill Baraka.

The salve on the cloth seems to have worked a little, because at least Kenshi isn't moaning in pain every few seconds anymore. Not that it makes things significantly more cheerful, but it does help the atmosphere a bit.

Johnny taps on his knees as he sits, eyes darting between looking at Kung Lao and Kenshi. He's kind of in between where the two have sat themselves, a visual and metaphorical median between the two ways one could possibly react to getting imprisoned by a sorcerer that's almost 100% going to kill you. (To be fair, there isn't much that connects the points of "casually talking about a stranger's terminal illness with them as though you're both standing by the office water cooler talking about whatever hit TV show is airing these days" and "rocking back in forth in the corner about how a different terminally ill stranger took your eyes and you have nothing left in this world." Johnny supposes the best middle point is "looking anxiously between your two co-workers and not saying anything because Jesus Christ, what the fuck are you supposed to say in this situation besides aforementioned terminal illness.")

He really wishes that Kenshi still had his eyes, because every time he looked at Johnny, it always seemed to make everything feel okay.

Johnny thinks for a second and then scoots closer to Kenshi. It's only once he accidentally bumps up against Kenshi's foot and scares the living shit out of everyone in the cell that he realizes he probably should've given an audible cue that he was going to be approaching the newly blind guy.

After Kenshi's done having a mini panic attack over the sudden Hollywood A-lister jumpscare he's gotten, Johnny looks at him and asks, quietly, "Do you want to hold Sento for a bit?"

Kenshi turns to face him and even underneath the newly christened blindfold, Johnny can tell that Kenshi is looking at him with the most surprised and reverent eyes in the universe. The kind of look that you'd get and say "fuck this stupid sword, I'd pay $3 million just to get this guy to look at me like that again."

Kenshi's mouth opens as though he's going to say something, but it shuts again before any words or sounds can come out. He opts to nod in response and Johnny takes the scabbard from off his back, holds it in his hands gently and passes it to Kenshi. Their fingertips graze one another, a way to indicate that the blind man is in the right spot. The touch sends crackles of electricity through Johnny and he wonders if Kenshi feels them too.

It's like the tattoos on Kenshi's hands are swirling around him, colors dancing in front of his eyes. It's more beautiful than any lame fucking Disney movie ever could be.

The yakuza's voice is hoarse as he says "Thanks." It's so small that Johnny can almost see it breaking in the air. He wants to put his hand on Kenshi's and tell him that things will be okay, that he's going to pay for a sight companion, any kind of corrective surgeries he wants, whatever it takes. He wants to tell him that he's still just as strong and fierce and goddamn handsome now as he was before. He wants to kiss him so fucking badly it makes his entire being ache.

He settles for saying "You're welcome," and then sitting next to Kenshi in silence.

He watches the way that he holds Sento in his hands, feels every single nick in the scabbard, every single imperfection. It's the first time in Johnny's life that he's ever wanted to be a sword and, if he keeps hanging out with Kenshi after this, (which he hopes he can), it almost certainly won't be the last.

Johnny wishes that Mileena had taken Kenshi's tear ducts with her after she'd stabbed his eyes out, because the short sad sobs that wrack through his body are almost too much to bear witness to. When he cries, it moves through his entire being. It sends a shockwave from his gut upward, makes him lurch his shoulders forward and hug himself.

"H-Hey, what's wrong?" Johnny asks. He knows it's a stupid fucking question, obviously everyone knows what's wrong, most of all the guy it happened to. But it's all he can think to ask as he watches Kenshi continue to awkwardly jerk alongside his cries.

Kenshi's head turns to face Johnny. From beyond the thin red cloth that covers his eye sockets, Johnny can feel them boring into him.

"Cage, could I touch you? I want to remember what your face looks like."

If Johnny were operating on his full mental capacity, he would probably explode at this question. He would become the fireworks they popped last night at the banquet over their heads as they feasted. He would be attached to one end of a fuse with Li Mei holding the other end, readying herself to spark it and send him to the stratosphere.

"Y-Yeah, of course you can, Ken-doll. Just make sure not to damage the goods - people pay good money for this mug to show up on their big screens."

The smugness in his voice would normally earn him a "tch" or a groan, (or an eye roll), from Kenshi. Hearing him chuckle under his breath makes his heart soar.

He turns his face toward him and waits, but no touch comes. His eyes close, he anticipates the electricity to come back... and instead he hears Kenshi clearing his throat awkwardly.

Johnny opens his eyes and finds that Kenshi's still got his hands on Sento. He tries not to be jealous of the sword again, but as with any other time he's tried not to be jealous of someone or something that has what he wants, he fails miserably.

"Could you get closer, Cage?"

"Not the first time I'm hearing that question, won't be the last. How close you need me, handsome?"

The words come out before he can even process them. Jesus Christ, is he really that much of a disaster that he can just openly call a guy he's been crushing on for at least a month handsome without even thinking about it? He's a fucking mess. His wife left him and now he doesn't know how to act. She was gonna be the only person he'd ever be able to trick into loving him and now she was gone.

"I'm going to turn, and I suggest you do the same. I want to be facing you. You can sit with your legs touching mine if it helps."

Great, now Kenshi has a colorful blindfold that also serves as a perfect swatch for the shade of red Johnny's face turns every time the man says something that's totally fucking normal for two people that are acquainted with one another.

Johnny does as he's told, because if there's one thing he's good at, it's taking directions. (Ignoring literally every single major motion picture he's ever been in, every statement he's ever made to the press after consulting his legal teams and public consultants, and generally living life up until this point.)

His knees knock against Kenshi's and it takes him aback for a second, how giddy and childish the butterflies he feels in his stomach are. Getting to know Kenshi was so simple. He wishes he had just taken a second and been less of a dickwad back when they'd first met, because maybe then it'd be easier for him to grow a pair of cajones and tell Kenshi that he doesn't spend a single night without thinking about how much he wants to trace the tattoos on his hands and arms. Maybe if he had just given Sento over, it'd be easier to admit that the low rumble of Kenshi's voice does something to stir up the pool of heat in his stomach that he thought had been long since gone after getting married to Cristal. Maybe if he hadn't tied Kenshi to one of his kitchen chairs, it'd be easier to ask him if kissing washed-up celebrities was something he'd be interested in doing.

"I'll put my hand out, you lean forward to match it."

Kenshi's palm is extended and it takes every ounce of willpower in Johnny's aching body to not press his lips against it. He leans forward until his cheek is lightly touching the yakuza's hand.

He must be hearing things, because he swears he hears Kenshi's breath hitch when they make contact for the first time. Nah, surely not. Must've been the wind.

If Kenshi's senses are heightened because of the loss of his vision, then Johnny's senses are heightened because of the gain of his touch. He purses his lips together to stop from letting out some sort of obscene sound as he feels Kenshi's hand slowly smooth over his cheek. He thanks whatever fucked up Gods exist other than Liu Kang that he finally got on that moisturizing routine that he learned off of TikTok three months ago.

As Kenshi's hand slowly feels out every angle and curve of Johnny's face, his thoughts rush a mile a minute. He wonders if he should've done a closer shave today - maybe his stubble is gonna be too sharp and it'll hurt Kenshi and leave him with little cuts or rug burn on his pretty perfect wrap-around-my-throat-please hands. He wonders if his nose is too big. He wonders if he maybe should've invested in hair plugs after that one weird SNL dropout made a comment about his weird square hairline back when he guest starred on the Comedy Central roast of Megan Fox. He wonders if his eyes are too small or too large or too close together or too far apart. He wonders if he should smile so Kenshi can feel his dimples.

"Yep, it all feels just like how I remember it. Although the stubble has gotten a little longer."

That is certainly not the answer he was expecting to hear.

His voice is small, barely there, as he chokes out his question. "You remember what I look like?"

Kenshi nods. "I do."

Johnny goes to open his mouth to ask, "Then why did you ask to touch it if you already knew?"

But then Kenshi's fingers are on his lips, tracing them with the reverence he'd have holding Sento, and for a moment, Johnny finally thinks he's better than that stupid fucking sword. His smile has the same curves, the same edges. The only difference is that Kenshi can't accidentally hurt himself this way. (He can, however, accidentally hurt Johnny. But even that would be better than the alternative, he thinks.)

Kenshi's thumb is on his bottom lip, the rest of his hand now holding Johnny's chin. If he tilts it up even one degree, Johnny thinks it'll be over for him, that he'll be kissing Kenshi before he can even think to stop himself. He'd always had poor impulse control - why else would he have spent $3 million on a fucking sword to hang up in his living room?

"These are the same, too. I'm glad you weren't hurt in the fight, Cage."

Johnny feels so fucking overwhelmed. He wants to ask so many things. First of all, what does "these are the same, too" mean? Second, why does he care about the guy who bought his fucking family heirloom and refuses to give it back? Third, why does he insist on calling him Cage like one day he won't end up calling him Johnny and breaking his heart? Fourth, what in the goddamn fuck does he mean about Johnny's fucking lips being the goddamn motherfucking same?!

Johnny decides to play it up like he always does. "Well, 'course. Gotta keep my pretty mouth. It's what makes the big bucks. I wouldn't be the same without it."

Kenshi smirks, and thank Liu Kang's weird god siblings that he's blind right now, because Johnny is beet red, mouth agape, with his eyebrows raised (and he's fairly certain that something else also rises).

"That's true. You would not be the same without that infamous mouth." Kenshi accents the compliment(?) with a playful slap to Johnny's cheek, and then his hand is withdrawn entirely, leaving an empty ghost where he should still be holding Johnny's face in his hands.

He bites back the urge to immediately ask if Kenshi wants to know just how infamous the mouth is, and settles for clearing his throat and moving back to sitting against the wall next to Kenshi.

He looks over at him after he's gotten calmed down. His heart is still jackhammering against his ribs, but as long as Kenshi can't feel his pulse, he doesn't have to know. Kenshi seems to sense Johnny's eyes on him because he turns to face him, red blindfold all that stands between the gaping holes where Kenshi's eyes used to be and Johnny's gaze full of adoration.

The yakuza grabs Sento from his lap and hands it back to Johnny.

"Thank you. I appreciate you letting me hold it. And I appreciate your help in grounding me back to reality."

Johnny nods, taking Sento back and putting it where it so wrongfully deserves to be, strapped against Johnny's sore fucking back.

"No problem. Lemme know whenever you get the urge to feel out what an Adonis looks like, I'm happy to oblige." His comment is a means to an end. He plays up the egoism to ignore the shock that courses through him as Kenshi's fingertips touch his one last time.

He resolves then and there to give Sento back as soon as they escape from here, and they will escape.

This cannot be the last time he feels Kenshi's hands on him.

Baraka whispers, about as well as he can without lips or an inside voice, "Do they not realize how much they yearn for one another?"

Kung Lao shakes his head, putting a hand on Baraka's shoulder and immediately regretting it once he feels a spike tear into his palm. "They've just gotta be stupid about it for a bit longer. They'll figure it out."

"Surely their pining has to cause some sort of agony for you as well, does it not, Earthrealmer?" Baraka looks genuinely confused, or as close to it as he can get from what Kung Lao can tell.

Kung Lao hangs his head, sighing languidly. "Of course it does. But what else am I gonna do about it? Tell them? They're not gonna believe me. Trust me, they've got to figure it out on their own time, or they never will."

And as he sees Johnny's hand inch closer to Kenshi's, finally overlapping the tattoos and interlocking their fingers, Kung Lao thinks that maybe the agony won't last much longer.

#johnshi #johnny cage x kenshi #johnny x kenshi #kenshi x johnny #kenshi x johnny cage #johnny cage #kenshi #kenshi takahashi #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mk1 spoilers #mortal kombat 1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 spoilers #mortal kombat #this was also posted to my ao3 but i'm keeping works limited to registered users only bc. protecting my works and whatnot!#cross posted on ao3 #immoralkombat.exe

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noodle-bin · 5 months

Text

Waiting For You

Leon Kennedy x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader helps Leon wind down and clean up after a long mission. Author just wants to see this man rest for once.

Tags: Fluff, showering together, reader takes care of Leon

Word Count: 1384

Ao3 crossposted

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The blue light from your monitor illuminated the room. You sat in front of your desk, hugging Leon’s jacket closer to try and take the last bit of scent that lingered. It’s been 2 months since he left for his mission and you missed him dearly.

To wake up beside of him, cook for two, have his arms around you while you two watched a movie on the couch. You missed his presence in the apartment, feeling so alone in the large space. It was worse at night having to sleep all alone. His space in the bed cold and empty.

It killed you waiting for a phone call at least, but that was once in a blue moon. If anything, you were concerned that maybe he wouldn’t come back.

Ridiculous. He’s basically invincible.

Your eyes drifted back to the monitor screen to see the multicolored letters of your code staring back at you. On top of missing Leon, your stupid code wouldn’t work. You had to submit it for testing tomorrow morning to meet the deadline, but the cloudy judgment from frustration was setting in.

You had one more solution in mind and had written it down in your notepad in illegible notes. You pinched the bridge of your nose trying to make sense of what you had written down.

The sleeves of Leon’s jacket covered your palms as you typed on your keyboard. Just one more solution to try…

Stuck in your own thoughts you barely heard the click of the front door open.

He’s finally home?

The sound of a heavy bag settling down was heard soon after.

“Leon?” You walked into the hallway to see him standing there, tired.

“Hey princess,” Leon smiled as he took you into his arms.

“Missed me?” He held you tightly, noticing the jacket you were wearing.

“Yes, god yes.” You pressed your face into him to take in the scent you missed dearly.

The both of you stayed like this for a moment. You felt Leon’s tenseness slowly fade as he relaxed his body into your hug, resting his chin on your head.

You pulled away and took him in. The dark bags under his eyes worried you. The stubble on his chin had grown back and his shoulders held so much weight on them.

“Come on, big boy. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“I’m going to fall asleep on you,” Leon grumbled but followed behind you like a puppy.

You made it to the shower and started the warm water. Leon quickly undressed himself and stepped in, disregarding the cold temperature of the water.

“At least wait for the water to warm up?” You protested as you undressed and stepped in behind him.

Leon chuckled and pulled you in by your waist. He blocked the water from hitting you, letting the water run down his back as he held you in his arms. He missed you.

He missed being held by you and feeling the safety of your embrace. To bask in your scent. Take in the beauty marks on your face and the shine in your eye. He ran his knuckles down your cheek as he held you. Soon, the water warmed up and he let you stand under it.

“Come here,” you made him bend down a little so you could reach his hair. You worked some shampoo into his hair, massaging his scalp as you washed his brunet strands.

“Thinking about bleaching your hair again?” You spoke quietly as you watched Leon’s practically melt from your touch. He closed his eyes and let you wash his hair.

He hummed as he thought of a response, but the scalp massage was too distracting to think of much.

You rinsed the shampoo out, and put a bit of conditioner on his ends. He didn’t like to admit it but Leon put a lot of care into his hair. You could tell by how quickly your conditioner ran out at times.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Leon murmured as he held you close to him. You couldn’t move much from his embrace.

“We have to get you cleaned, Leon. The quicker we’re out the faster we can go to bed.” It felt like you were negotiating with a clingy child, but you weren’t complaining. You wanted to take care of Leon first.

He only nodded and pulled away to try and grab the body wash bottle himself, but you already had a loofah with body wash on it lathering it over his body.

“Let me.” You whispered, washing away the soreness of his body. You took in his muscular build littered by all sorts of scars. A gunshot wound. So many cuts. New bruises. Scabs. You sighed at the idea of the new scars possibly littering his mind after this mission.

You caught his gaze and he seemed so happy to be here with you. Pushing the concerns away, you continued to clean him.

He looked down at you through the wet hair clinging to his cheekbones, admiring you. How did he get so lucky? To have someone so understanding and gentle with him. To be his support when he needed it the most. It wasn’t easy for him to talk about everything he’s gone through, but he knows he never has to. You always remained there for him. Unchanging. Always offering to take care of him when his own body became too heavy to take care of itself. And here you were, washing his body. He could’ve done it himself, sure, but it felt meaningful when you took the time to take care of him.

After Leon was finally clean, it was your turn.

“Let me,” Leon said as he tried to reach for the shampoo, but you stopped him.

“I’ll do it quickly myself. Please. I just want to get you in bed.” You looked up at him with pleading eyes. You would much rather have Leon resting in your arms right now, so a quick shower was your best option.

Leon’s tired body looked at you through half lidded eyes, screaming to finally rest. He nodded.

“I promise I’ll take care of you tomorrow.” Leon kissed your forehead. He looked like he was about to fall asleep right then and there, but he waited patiently as you quickly cleaned yourself.

It wasn’t long before the both of you were out. The cold air hit you but Leon wrapped a towel around your shoulders immediately. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, hugging you close to him by pulling on your waist.

“Thank you.” He pressed his forehead against yours. You heart fluttered like you were falling in love all over again. The security of being in his arms and the gentle way he looked at you time and time again. He really had you wrapped around his finger.

Leon only bothered enough to wear underwear before he crashed in bed, dragging you behind him. You had barely been able to put some sleeping shorts on before he pulled you into bed with him. You hugged him into your chest, holding him gently. He pressed kisses to your collarbone, resting his face into you.

“I love you,” he whispered. No matter how tired he was, he still had a hell of a time sleeping. Though your embrace made it easier, it still took a while for his body to let its guard down enough to fall asleep.

Your hands found their way to his hair and you began to give him another scalp massage, scratching gentle circles. “I love you too,” you whispered back.

He could turn off his fight or flight, zone out his surroundings for one small moment where the only thing that mattered was you. In your arms, breathing in your scent, and feeling your fingers scratch his scalp.

You could physically feel Leon relax. Though you couldn’t see his face, you could imagine his face of bliss as he leaned into your touch. It’s been so long, and he was finally back.

The night continued like this, massaging gentle circles into his hair until you finally heard his breathing slow alongside gentle snores. You smiled, happy that he was finally able to sleep. You’ll explain your project dilemma tomorrow morning. Right now Leon resting is the priority.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #cross posted on ao3 #resident evil leon

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starfinss · 8 months

Text

𝘊𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦 — 𝘑𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘠𝘶𝘢𝘯

𝘍𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮: Honkai Star Rail

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: Jing Yuan + Reader

𝘙𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: NSFW

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 9,818

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: And as you stood there, confused and fuming and utterly scarlet in the face, you decided to do something stupid. Like, really, cosmically stupid. But really, you couldn’t think of anything to do at that moment besides that terribly stupid thing.

Without saying anything, you crossed to his side of the desk, leaning to grab at the front of his clothing and yanking him up to meet your mouth in a kiss, effectively shutting him up and showing just how comfortable you were.

You had a headache.

You’d had it since you woke up that morning, persisting even after you downed a couple of painkillers, and even still after your first cup of strong tea. And finally, to your chagrin, it only grew worse as you walked to work. Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was simple dumb luck. Things like this always seemed to happen to you right before you had something important to do.

For the umpteenth time, you rubbed at your throbbing temples. On a normal day, you’d call in sick and spend the day at home, and the General wouldn’t mind. He was good like that. But today, you couldn’t afford to bail. Incidents like the Sanctus Medicus debacle came with a lot of red tape, even after all the heavy lifting and clashing of blades was finished. Incident reports, statements, casualty reports, and more bureaucratic nonsense that was of no help to the bereaved families of the fallen Cloud Knights. It was a web of all sorts of complicated, and if you weren’t careful, it was easy to get lost in the nearly endless amount of work to be done, especially as an advisor to the General of the Cloud Knights.

But you had an idea. It had come to you when you were combing through the incident reports; brought about by the footnote left by Jing Yuan regarding those very stragglers of the cult-like group. A solution to capture the remaining disciples of the Sanctus Medicus. Your notes on that were tucked away in the folder in your arms, all ready to be passed off to the General.

Head still throbbing, you gave your identification to the guards at the door and pushed into the meeting room, taking your seat near the General’s chair. He had yet to arrive, but that was fine with you. It gave you time to review what you were going to say. You placed your folder on the table in front of you, scanning through the lines of text, typed up the night previous, and accompanied by your own notes in the margins. It wasn’t a complicated plan, not as much as you were making it out to be in your own head. It was simple enough, but you were confident it could work.

The General trusted you. Your strategies had worked before, and you’d been instrumental in helping orchestrate successful battle formations, not to mention that you were responsible for the plan that had stopped a string of robberies in the Central Starskiff Haven, something you’d actually received an award for. You knew Jing Yuan would back you up to the other upper echelons of the Cloud Knights, as he had in the past.

It wasn’t long before people began to file into the room, and low chatter began as the pain in your head settled behind your eyes, but gradually began to lessen. You thanked the Aeons for that. You also thanked the Aeons that Fu Xuan was the one who called the meeting to order, recounting facts you already knew from the incident report, so you didn’t actually have to follow what she was saying. Tea was passed out, and you took a slow sip of the liquid. It smelled distinctly herbal, and was undoubtedly picked by the General himself. He always had good taste in teas.

“And that brings me to my next point,” Fu Xuan said, “what are we to do about the remaining members of the Sanctus Medicus who remain in hiding?”

You let yourself prepare what you were going to say, letting a few other people toss ideas around before you raised your hand. When you did, the Master Diviner’s gaze shifted to you, and she nodded, signaling you to speak. Jing Yuan shifted in his seat beside you, leaning on his closed fist, amber eyes expectant. All eyes were on you.

“Yes, what is it?” The Diviner asked.

“I have a proposal,” you said, and Fu Xuan nodded meaningfully.

“Then let’s hear it.”

Gathering your thoughts, you rose to your feet with a sigh.

“In the incident report, transcripts were recorded of the firsthand accounts given by the passengers of the Astral Express. Please, if you will, turn to page nine, where Mr Welt Yang’s statement is attached.”

A rustling of paper followed, and once it had quieted, you picked up where you left off.

“If you see, written in line twelve, Mr Yang recounts an interaction with a captured member of the group. The defeat of Phantylia the Undying was more than likely enough to send the doubters away, but if Mr Yang’s statement is to be believed, even despite their defeat, some of these people still hold a strong degree of loyalty for the Abundance. Which makes them all the more dangerous.”

“I see,” Jing Yuan interjected, clearly interested, “you’re saying that what we have left are the fanatics. The ones most likely to cause problems, yes?”

You nodded. “Yes, correct. I propose we send an agent to infiltrate them. Gather information, cut them off at the root.”

“I’m afraid we tried that,” Qingzu said, “and while we did garner some important information, it was ultimately a failure. Dan Shu escaped, and things ended up escalating to the current level.”

“Yes,” you said, “I’m well aware of that. That was something I advised you on, Miss Qingzu. You approached me for help, if you recall.”

Qingzu folded her hands in her lap, sitting back in her chair. “I do. Your point being?”

“My point being,” you said, “I learned that I needed to reflect on what went wrong, and so I have. And, as it stands, the situation is more dire than it was before. These people have proven themselves to be dangerous, and it is paramount—”

“They were dangerous before,” Qingzu said, “and, it was paramount before. They have always been enemies of the Hunt. If we try to infiltrate again, don’t you think they’d be suspicious?”

“I thought of that,” you said, “which is why I propose we use an ex-member. We have a number of them on record, arrested after the incident, who express resentment towards the group. The Disciples of the Sanctus Medicus bear many strong resemblances to an insular cult, and it would be incredibly useful to have an agent who already knows the ins and outs of such an organization. We’ve done what we can with the information gathered from interrogation, but the fact remains that these fanatics are still out there. We need to utterly destroy whatever is left, and this is the most efficient way to do so.”

“Interesting,” Fu Xuan said, “but there is always the chance of betrayal. How do you account for that?”

You made a rueful face. “Can it not be argued that there is always a chance of betrayal? Though, you could always see the outcome for yourself, Master Diviner. Your divinations are never wrong.”

“What you suggest is reckless,” Qingzu said, “if this ex-member has any sort of loyalty at all left over, it puts us at risk.”

“I accounted for that,” you said, “I propose that—”

“It is simply too risky,” she said, “thank you for your input, though.”

Annoyance flared in your veins, and you tried hard not to let it show on your face. You knew Qingzu well enough to know that she wasn’t shutting you down out of malice, she was simply thinking about efficiency. But she hadn’t let you finish.

“Wait,” you said, “I said, I accounted for that. If you’ll allow me—”

“Allow me to be clear,” Qingzu said, “you acknowledge the risks, yes?”

You paused. “Of course, but I said that I—”

“You acknowledge that if we take this gamble and it fails, it could put the Cloud Knights at risk, correct? If our infiltrator switches sides, we’ll be left wide open. They will have information about us, the acquisition of which might lead to even bigger problems. Do you acknowledge this?”

Discontent and anger peppered across your thoughts as you shifted where you stood, your words stuck in your throat. You glanced down to where Jing Yuan sat beside you, to take in the expectant, almost nonchalant expression on his face. His eyes met your own, briefly, meaningfully, before he fixed his gaze on Qingzu.

“Well?” Qingzu said, “do you, or do you not?”

“Yes, I do,” you said, “and that is why we would send that agent in with one of our own. Say this agent is someone new, a recruit for the cause. It would minimize suspicion, and give us some wiggle room if things were to go south. We have one of our own keeping them in line.”

“I see,” Jung Yuan said, “please, elaborate. How would we orchestrate this? How would we pick the candidates for this operation?”

“General,” Qingzu said, “you know that this is—”

But he held up a hand, silencing her. “Let the woman speak. I can see you are interested in what she has to say as well, Lady Fu Xuan.”

“Correct,” Fu Xuan said, “the idea is intriguing, and could very well lead to the eradication of the Disciples of the Sanctus Medicus. But Lady Qingzu’s worry is not unfounded. If the plan is found out, our agents would likely be killed, and we would be left with bereaved families and nothing to show for the loss. If you can assuage both her fears, and my own, then I believe that your strategy is plausible.”

Ah. And you’d been doing so well before. But the second Fu Xuan fixed you with that look, expecting something great, you could feel your confidence draining out through the soles of your shoes. She seemed to have that effect on everyone, though. Despite her small stature, she could be incredibly intimidating. Regardless, you took a deep breath. You could do this.

“Well,” you said, “I believe that no strategy is without risks. Of course, we’d need to make sure these agents are well briefed and prepared for the operation, so there is little room left for error. We’d need to be careful in our selection process, and I propose that you assist in overseeing this portion of the plan, Master Diviner. That way, you can see for yourself who will be involved and how it will be done. Does that assuage your worry?”

That was a weak answer and you knew it, but you hadn’t accounted for Fu Xuan picking your idea apart like she was. So when her eyes narrowed, you knew she wasn’t satisfied.

“And how exactly will we prepare these operatives?”

You bit your lip. This was the kind of thing, the fine moving parts, that was what you thought about after presenting the actual idea. That did well enough for when you were working with Jing Yuan, and when you presented strategies to others like you were now, he’d often back you up, or at least say something to help you. You looked at him sidelong, and he looked back, as calm and collected as ever. A small, almost bemused smile tugged at his lips, a challenge in his eyes.

“Do you have an answer for me?” Fu Xuan said, canting her head, expectant, “if you don’t, I am sure the General has something to add.”

“I do,” you said, “I have an answer.”

Fu Xuan shifted in her chair. From her expression, you were beginning to figure that your time was up. “Be that as it may, I’d like to hear what the General is thinking. If you’re really confident in your strategy, send me a draft of it and I will review it in full. Thank you.”

You sank down into your chair again, trying not to let your embarrassment show on your face. Jing Yuan proposed an idea similar to yours, but involving sneakier tactics, such as tailing known members of the group and such. Fu Xuan seemed much more complimentary of that than she had of yours, clearly satisfied by the lower risk factor.

But you knew yours would work. It would get more answers, and it could spell the demise of what remained of the Disciples of the Sanctus Medicus.

After the meeting drew itself to a close, you gathered your things, ready to go to the Seat of Divine Foresight to draft up the proposal Fu Xuan asked for. You just hoped she’d actually listen this time. It was as you were circling around the table to go to the door that you heard Jing Yuan call your name, prompting you to turn around, eyebrows raised.

“Walk with me back to the Seat, alright?”

You sighed inwardly. “Yes, General. I was already on my way there.”

“Ah,” he said, smiling, “then it works in both of our favors, doesn’t it?”

He held the door for you as you left the room, and you thanked him politely as he retook his place beside you. You had to walk quickly, the General was a tall man, and his stride was much longer than yours was. It always made you a little breathless, walking alongside him, but then again, most things did when it came to him.

“My idea could work,” you said, and you saw Jing Yuan smile again, thoughtfully.

“Yes,” he said, “it could. I’m confident it could. It was a well thought out plan, as your plans always are.”

You blinked, not expecting the praise, especially not after he’d stayed quiet during the meeting.

“Huh?”

A soft laugh. “You weren’t finished talking when the Master Diviner cut you off, were you? Lady Fu Xuan is… an intense woman. But she is more open to the ideas of others than you’d expect her to be. She just prefers when a person speaks up about what they’re really thinking.”

You frowned. “So you’re saying you support my plan?”

Jing Yuan pushed open the doors to the Seat of Divine Foresight as you rounded upon them, and as you entered, he gestured for those inside to leave the room, which they did, leaving the two of you alone.

“Of course I support your plan,” he said, “you know I’ve always respected your inputs, they’ve served me and the Luofu well in the past. But you lack conviction.”

You let his words settle as the two of you crossed the room, making your way to the desk, where you set down the folder you were still carrying.

“How do I lack conviction?” You asked, “I believe firmly in my own ability. I am good at what I do, and you know that, else you wouldn’t have picked me as your advisor. In all the time we’ve worked together, when have I ever lacked conviction in anything I’ve done?”

“That isn’t what I mean,” Jing Yuan said, “I mean in your own ideas. You clearly had more to say to the Master Diviner, but when she stopped you, that was the end of it. You clearly had it thought out, as demonstrated when Miss Qingzu brought up her concerns, but you didn’t fight for it.”

He had a point, but you weren’t about to admit that. You chewed your lip, eyes flicking to where the folder you’d just set down was laying.

“What are you getting at?” You asked, finally, “that I need to be more confident? I know that. I didn’t account for… several things. I suppose I should have.”

Jing Yuan laughed; a lovely, low sound. “Lady Fu Xuan is something few people can really account for. She’s confident to nearly a fault in her abilities of divination, but even she cannot see every angle of a matter by herself. So she tends to pick apart things that would ordinarily require a bit of a gamble. Experience breeds caution, something that rings especially true with someone like the Master Diviner.”

You snorted. “A little warning would have been nice.”

Another laugh. “My apologies. But really, I was interested in seeing how you’d rise to the challenge. You had a good idea, as I knew you would, and I wanted to see you fight for it.”

Something uncomfortable twisted in your gut, and you turned away from him, studying a spot on the floor.

“Well, I’m sorry for disappointing you.”

“Disappointing me? Nonsense. You merely need an extra push. Now, would you care for a game of chess?”

You turned back, looking at him quizzically. “Chess? General, I don’t think now is the time.”

He smiled playfully. “There’s always time for a game of chess. Now, I’ve received this exquisite set, a gift from the Nameless on the Astral Express. I was told it was bought in a city called Belobog. I’m very eager to break it in. As we play, we can discuss further.”

Exasperated, you pulled a chair up to the desk, sinking down into it as Jing Yuan set up the board. The set really was lovely, you noted. It was made of carved wood, the pieces and board both showing fine craftsmanship and detail. You turned over the rook in your hands, admiring the way the wood shone gently under the light.

Jing Yuan chose white, as he usually did when the two of you played chess, and you chose black. He moved first, setting one of his pawns two spaces out from where it was originally, and you followed his example.

“Chess is much like life, no?”

You watched his hands, intent, as he moved his pawn forward once more.

“In some instances,” you said, “strategy is certainly something the two have in common. Or the fact that both require you to think outside the box, especially when figuring out said strategies.”

A good-natured chuckle as you moved a second pawn further, freeing your knight. Jing Yuan moved his own pawn ever closer, but he hadn’t moved any of his more powerful pieces. You narrowed your eyes, trying to figure out what he was planning.

“There’s that sharp intellect I know so well,” Jing Yuan said, “but you’re missing one thing.”

Leaning forward, you rested your elbow against the desk, propping your chin on your folded hand.

“And what would that be?”

A smile, playful and knowing. His eyes sparked with mirth. “You know very well what I mean.”

It was your turn to smile, maybe playing a little dumb. “I assure you, I don’t.”

“Let me give you a hint, then,” the General said, eyes fixed on your hands, watching as you shifted your knight out and onto the board, towards his closest pawn, “purpose, focus, planning. All are vital for a successful gambit, am I right?”

You watched as he moved his pawn again. This was surely a trap, for the rook waiting beyond the pawn, poised to take your knight after the pawn was captured. But you doubted Jing Yuan would do something so obvious. You moved your knight away, clearing it from danger. You needed to back up the piece with another one.

You supposed he was right. Purpose, focus, planning. But there was also sacrifice. Any good plan required gambles, and that rang true on the chessboard as well. You moved your pawn closer to Jing Yuan’s, near ready to capture the piece. Two could play at that game. You could make sacrifices, too.

“Yes,” you said, “but the Master Diviner doesn’t seem to understand it the same way we do. She doesn’t want to take risks.”

Amusement sparked in his golden eyes, electrifying as the air around you. You twisted your fingers around the top of your pawn, adjusting it more squarely into its spot.

“She is a careful woman. She wants everything to be accounted for. You believe in this strategy, yes? That it could work?”

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “Naturally.”

“Then make her believe that. A firm belief in one's self commands a room. Make her see that you will handle whatever unexpected circumstances befall us.”

“Oh?” You said, heart thrumming in your chest, “me, alone? I’m just one person, General. Won’t you be helping me?”

His smile broadened, turning into a lazy grin, and when he spoke, he echoed your words from before.

“Naturally.”

That stupid smile sent butterflies into your stomach, their wingbeats gale force strength as they battered against your lungs. It was always like this with him, something unspoken hanging in the air between you, undisturbed by years of friendship, but ever present. So you did what you always did when it reared its ugly head. You stepped aside to leave it ample room to fester.

“I should be going,” you said, rising from your seat, “we’ll have to finish our game later. I need to finish writing the details I left out for the Master Diviner.”

“You will remain here.”

You blinked. He didn’t say it with any sort of authority, as if he was simply discussing the weather. But the firmness in his eyes told you that it wasn’t up for discussion.

“Excuse me?” You said, voice much weaker than you’d have liked.

“You heard me well. I have more to say, if that’s alright with you. Sit. It’s your turn.”

And so you sat.

“Really, it’s just the two of us,” Jing Yuan said, “we can speak with candor. If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to discuss the details you did not get to share earlier. Leave nothing out.”

You narrowed your eyes, absently moving your pawn. “Fu Xuan is already backing your strategy, not mine. My conviction in my plan does not change, but if you were this confident in what I had already, why didn’t you speak up?”

“You know why,” Jing Yuan said, “I wanted you to fight for it. We’re only talking in circles, my dear. How will we guarantee the safety of our agents in this operation?”

Your answer was automatic, despite the rush the diminutive sent through your already electrified system.

“There is no definitive way to ensure that nothing goes wrong aside from preventative measures and ample training,” you said, voice as steady as you could keep it, “any way you slice it, it’s always going to be a bit of a gamble. What I’m suggesting is an infiltration. That kind of operation is unpredictable. You know that. In order to avoid problems, we have to be ready for anything.”

A smile. The rook took your pawn, but you expected that. Without blinking, you took the rook with your knight. Jing Yuan’s eyes flashed with excitement, a contagious grin spreading across his face.

“Excellent answer. But tell me, how will we be ready for anything if we don’t even know what that could be?”

You shrugged. “There’s no perfect way to be ready for absolutely everything. We’ll just have to try and account for what is most likely to happen if things go awry.”

“And the unlikely?”

You knew he was testing you, trying to get under your skin. You looked up at his face and away from the chessboard, the nonchalance in his expression utterly infuriating. You tried your best to remain just as nonplussed.

“I mentioned training, didn’t I?” You said, “we have to trust the operatives will know what to do in the unexpected.”

His smile broadened. “Excellent. See, if you were able to say to her what you just said to me, then we’d be getting somewhere.”

You twisted in your seat. “What makes you so sure of that?”

Another easy smile. “Am I wrong to trust the judgment of a trusted friend and advisor, especially when she’s yet to steer me wrong? I value your opinion. You know that.”

“I do,” you said, “and I value yours as well.”

“I’m hardly worthy of such an honor, I’m sure,” Jing Yuan replied, his smile growing, eyes warm.

For some reason, his words sent those aforementioned butterflies present in your stomach shooting through your bloodstream in an intoxicating rush. Shit. Those feelings were back, the complicated ones you tried to run away from earlier. The way he was smiling at you wasn’t helping in the slightest, and mortifyingly, you could feel your cheeks heating up. Why was that of all things flustering you like this?

Aeons, you had to get out of there. You cleared your throat, expelling any improper or amorous thoughts about your superior from your mind as you straightened in your chair.

“I really should be going, General,” you said, voice a little louder than you’d have liked, “if you’ll excuse me, I—”

“Is something the matter, _____?”

You blinked, staring at him.

You should have said something intelligent, or something to assuage his worries, but instead, all you managed was; “what?”

You cleared your throat for the second time, smoothing down the fabric of your uniform.

“Let me rephrase,” you said, “what do you mean? What would make you think something was the matter?”

Jing Yuan leaned back in his chair, almost lazily, eyes remaining fixed on you as he did so.

“Well,” he said, “you keep trying to excuse yourself, to start. Additionally, your face is very red. Do you feel ill?”

You latched onto that. “I woke up with a headache this morning,” you said, “I’ve been all out of sorts since then, I’m afraid.”

A soft hum, then an understanding nod. “I see,” Jing Yuan said, do you have any other symptoms?”

You shook your head. “Just a headache.”

That was a total lie, your headache had diminished to nothing more than an annoyance during the meeting, and had vanished altogether in the time you had been talking with Jing Yuan. But he didn’t have to know that. He didn’t have to know that situations like this always made you need to excuse yourself to rethink your entire working relationship with him, or that you often thought about how lovely he looked when he smiled.

But then, he was leaning across the table, hand outstretched, and he was pressing his palm to your forehead, the skin cool against your own. It did nothing to calm your racing heart, nor the incandescent blush on your face. The butterflies in your stomach were doing an entire floor routine at this point.

“You do not appear to have a fever,” he said, as he pulled back, “but your face is still very flushed. Are you too warm?”

You tugged at the high collar of your uniform, fingers absently catching on one of the buttons.

“I suppose it is a little warm in here.”

Another lie. You were actually a little bit cold. Another thing he didn’t have to know. YOu had to change the subject, and fast.

“Why is it that you value my input so much—”

“Are you embarrassed?”

The question came so suddenly it stunned you for a moment.

“What would I be embarrassed about?” You finally managed.

“I value your opinion,” he said, “I believe that is what I said that set you out of sorts, yes? The fact that I value your input flusters you? Do you fear that that is all I value? I assure you, I not only treasure your ideas, but your presence as well. You need not feel uncomfortable here, I very much enjoy your company.”

This was not going the way you envisioned at all. You were a professional for Aeons’ sake. You straightened yourself, rising from your chair, just to put some distance between the two of you, just to catch your breath. What was he doing? It almost felt like…

“You’re teasing me,” you said finally.

You turned when he laughed, your expression a mix of emotions, but he was as cool and collected as ever. It almost made you want to slap him. Or kiss him, Aeons forbid. You shoved that thought to the deepest corner of your mind.

“I was concerned at first,” he said, “though I realized after I felt your forehead that you were not ill. I apologize for my behavior, but I’m afraid I just couldn’t help myself.”

You felt like you were going to burst into flames. “So— what you said, about— huh?”

Another laugh. “I meant every word of that. Come now, lying about such things would be unbecoming. Please, would you sit with me some more? I would very much like to finish our game.”

“No,” you said, “the game can wait. Do you not take me seriously?”

He looked briefly surprised before he answered.

“I take you very seriously, I assure you. I cannot see why you would think I wouldn’t. I apologize if I led you to think otherwise.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Then why tease me?”

“I admit,” he said, “I found your reactions to be… endearing. I did not mean to offend you.”

Your heart sputtered under the new load that had been put upon it like a backfiring starskiff. You’d only ever seen hints of this before, in offhanded compliments and veiled praises, but the General had never been so overt before. Hell, you’d always been certain you were imagining it. But that single revelation brought you to a realization.

“You weren’t just teasing me,” you said, “you were flirting with me.”

The smile grew, and you could have sworn your heart was beating in your ears. He canted his head, regarding you with a playful gaze as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk in front of him.

“And what if I was?”

You coughed, trying to clear your head as confusing emotions swam laps in your bloodstream. Damn him, making you feel like this. Did he not even realize the impropriety of all of this? Did he just not care? How stupid and blind had you been not to realize this was happening?

“If you were,” you said, carefully, “then what does that mean, exactly?”

“You’re a smart woman” he rebuffed, “you know what it means.”

Your brain wasn’t catching up with what he was saying as quickly as you wanted it to, which infuriated you. He was staring at you, waiting for you to say anything at all, and you turned to face him when he said your name.

Damn it. Damn him. Damn everything. The way he was looking at you, like you put the stars in the sky, it made you feel like every cell in your body was screaming. All these years of pining for someone you thought was so unattainable was an arms reach away all along, and that not only made you feel silly, it made you feel a certain degree of strange, misdirected anger.

And as you stood there, confused and fuming and utterly scarlet in the face, you decided to do something stupid. Like, really, cosmically stupid. But really, you couldn’t think of anything to do at that moment besides that terribly stupid thing.

“Of course,” he said, mild panic in his voice, “if you’re uncomfortable with this, it will never be spoken of again—”

He made a sound of surprise when your mouths met, a sound that snapped you from whatever impulsive haze that had settled over your brain. You were about to yank yourself back and apologize until you were unable to do so anymore, but then his hands found your shoulders, holding you in place, and your own fell from his clothing to catch his cheeks in your palms.

He was much taller than you, something especially evident as he rose to his full height, forcing you to stand on your tip-toes, arms slinging around his neck. His own wound around your waist, as not to let you slip away, his body quickly pulled flush against your own.

He tasted of herbal tea and almond cookies, warm against your mouth as he deepened the kiss. It was all-consuming and passionate, and you felt Jing Yuan pull back for a mere moment, just once, before diving back in, his teeth grazing your lower lip, sending sparks dancing down your spine. Your actions were rapidly growing frenzied, almost fierce, and you could feel yourself moving, your backside making contact with the desk behind you.

You knew this was moving fast, but you couldn’t even begin to care, not when you ran your hands through his hair, drawing a soft gasp from his lips, feather soft against your own, and especially not when his hands shifted to brace on the desk, effectively caging you in. Kissing him was intense , and almost completely overwhelming. The scent of him engulfed you; orange blossom and sandalwood, as well as something earthy and herbal and him.

He was the first one to pull back, face tinged pink as he caught his breath, eyes hooded as he watched you through lashes the color of moonlight. Aeons, he was pretty. Too pretty for his own good. Your eyes fixed to his mouth, watching as his tongue darted out, running briefly over his unfairly full lower lip.

“I see the matter of your comfort isn’t a concern.”

You could only shake your head.

He smiled, and you felt your heartbeat flutter in your chest.

“If it’s all the same to you,” he said, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear, “I’d like to do that again.”

You answered him by pulling him into another kiss.

You could feel his hands on your waist, warm even through the fabric of your uniform. Gooseflesh raised on your skin as he paused, dangerously close to your hips, and your own hands laced into his hair, your fingers combing through thick, silver locks. The action drew a soft, low sound that made your blood sing with energy. It was embarrassing how quickly he got you like this, so pliable and willing, but as he nibbled at your lower lip, any thoughts of embarrassment were ejected from your mind.

His tongue slid along the seam of your lips, and you parted them, allowing him to press it against your own. Your fingers tangled into his hair, catching at the tie that held it back, and you flirted with the idea of undoing it before he was tugging you backward, away from the desk and onto the bench behind him, gathering you into his lap. The buzz of excitement took its place beneath your skin, and you shifted forward, bumping your hips against his.

You could feel his hands trailing down your body, catching in the bend of your waist, and you wanted so badly to shift down, pressing your bodies flush together, just to see what he would do. Fuck, he’d pulled you into his lap, and the provocativity of such an action only put you more out of sorts than you already were.

Breathless, you broke the kiss, meeting his hooded gaze with your own as you rolled your hips down, and oh, the way his eyes fluttered closed, the way his grip grew tighter on your body, it sent any remaining rational thought you had right out the nearest window.

You squeezed your thighs around his hips as you pressed yourself down again, and his jaw tightened, fingers pressing into your flesh through the fabric of your uniform. His gaze was dark as he regarded you, amber eyes sweeping across your body, seemingly hungry for what he was seeing. It thrilled you more than you thought it would. Overwhelmed, you dove forward to catch his mouth in another kiss, and he sighed into you, his lips moving languidly against your, almost indulgent as he pressed closer.

He pulled back suddenly, forehead against yours, breath heavy, and you tried to move to catch his mouth with yours again. He allowed you the impulse for a few frenzied seconds before he moved away, and for a horrible moment, you thought you’d done something wrong.

“Is this alright?” He asked, and the way his voice had deepened to a baritone rumble sent your head off into space, “you and I both know the direction this is taking us.”

You did. If you continued at this pace, you knew exactly what would happen. Anyone with common sense would know. This was something out of a dirty fantasy, something you’d shamefully thought of on lonely nights, something out of one of those silly erotic web novels you found yourself reading on boring days off. It was exciting and sexy, and you didn’t want it to stop. Here he was, the object of your pining, of your recently thought to be unrequited affections, asking what you wanted at that moment. Who were you to refuse?

“Yes,” you said, after you’d found your own voice, high and breathy in contrast to his, “I’m okay with this. I want this.”

A soft hum, and you felt your heart jump into your throat as his head dipped, mouth dragging along the bit of your throat left exposed by your uniform. You couldn’t help but gasp, almost embarrassed at your own sensitivity.

“Aeons, you’re lovely,” he breathed, enraptured, “I am left in awe every day I see you.”

You felt your face warm, your voice lost as he peppered kisses along your jaw. His hands slid down your body to find your thighs, calloused palms pressing against the skin, left exposed by the shorts attached to your uniform. He used the grip to tug you closer, firmly pressing your pelvis against his, an action that caused both of you to gasp aloud.

He held you in place as he rolled his hips, slow and easy, the friction making you gasp. He was already halfway hard, evident through his trousers, and the thought that you’d been the one to make him that way made intoxicating arousal flood into your bloodstream.

His fingers caught the buttons at your collar, fumbling to push them through the buttonholes. Once that was done, you reached to the front of your waist to unfasten your belt, which was holding the top of your uniform in place. After it was loose, you slipped the garments from your body, discarding them to the floor.

You barely had time to think before Jing Yuan was exploring the newly exposed parts of you, his mouth latching onto the bend of your shoulder, the column of your throat, the underside of your chin. His hands, warm and calloused against your naked waist, made you shudder, breath leaving your lips in a shaky sigh as his tongue passed over your pulse point.

You had trouble finding exactly where his armor ended and he began, but you eventually found the buckles necessary to unfasten the thick plating from his body. He helped you with this endeavor, eventually shedding his wrist guards and shirt, as well as the armor at his waist, leaving him bare chested beneath you.

He was built powerfully, like the Aeons themselves had sculpted him by hand. Muscles rippled under the flat press of your palm, his perfect pale skin only marred by the threads of countless battle scars. Broad, strong shoulders and arms, a well-built chest, all tapering off into a trim waist. You ran your fingers down his body, feeling his muscles tense, quivering, breath catching as your thumb caught the jut of his hip bone, settling into the groove of muscle at his navel.

His gaze was riveted to your hand as you explored his body, only dropping away when your mouth attached to his neck, teeth grazing his collarbone, making him sigh with shuddering breath. Your fingers mapped their way across his scars, and you absently wondered what the cause of each one was. You kissed the one closest to you, a thick, pale stripe of skin cutting across his left shoulder, ending just above his pectoral. You felt his nose press into your hair, and for a moment, you simply rested your cheek against his shoulder in a little bubble of intimacy that settled so perfectly into your comfort zone that you almost had trouble breaking away.

“You’re beautiful,” you said, softly, and you heard him chuckle, the sound like a roll of thunder beneath your ear.

“Oh, my darling,” he whispered, “that word is reserved for you.”

He drew you close and into another fierce kiss, stealing your breath from your lungs, and you could feel his hands on your back as he unfastened your bra, pushing the straps down your shoulders. You took the bra off the rest of the way, dropping it behind you as you rolled your hips against him, an action that caused him to grip at your body, and oh , you could feel him, hardness pressing neatly against your clothed cunt. Teeth clicked together as he rocked his hips, holding you against him, the friction drawing a soft, breathy moan.

His palm slid along your body, cupping your breast, and when his thumb swiped over your nipple, you let out an embarrassingly loud gasp, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he squeezed the nipple between two fingers. You were so unexpectedly sensitive, just from this alone, a fact that would have embarrassed you if your head wasn’t so full of clouds and fluff and other emptiness, drunk on his touch.

His mouth found your pulse point again, tracing down to your collarbone, then to the valley of your breasts, and your back bowed as his hand smoothed along your spine to rest between your shoulder blades, breath and body shuddering as his lips passed over a nipple. His breath was hot as it misted over your skin, and when his lips finally caught a nipple between them, you let your head fall back, gasping and breathless.

Jing Yuan’s tongue passed over the sensitive flesh, rolling your nipple beneath it, and he caught your opposite breast in his free hand, gently squeezing, making you whine, soft and low. The pleasure of it all felt like fire beneath your skin, burning you from the inside out, but not one part of you cared, not when he was touching you like that.

You pushed yourself against him harder, because feeling him through clothing was rapidly becoming not nearly enough, a sentiment he clearly shared from the way you felt him groan against your skin.

“Can I touch you?” He rasped, and you nodded quickly, shifting to unfasten the tie holding your shorts closed, briefly standing to slip them off, as well as your panties, before you were moving back into his lap, completely bare.

“You’re incredible,” he rumbled, “a goddess. I hope you know that. I am a very lucky man.”

His hand pressed against your hip, making your shift back, and your face flushed in embarrassment as he took in your naked form, gaze famished and punch drunk in love as it roved over you.

“I want to touch you, too,” you said, and he simply smiled.

“I’m yours to do with as you please.”

His hand slipped from your hip to your thigh, and you shifted your hips back, allowing him room to maneuver as he pressed a broad palm to the apex of your thighs, causing you to gasp, hips unconsciously pressing down. His middle finger ran along the length of your entrance, aided by the soak of your arousal, slow as he pleased, leaving your head full of fog. You pressed your hips down against his hand, lip catching between your teeth as he picked up his pace, free hand gripping your hip to still you as one finger slowly sunk inside of you.

He began to move at an agonizingly slow pace, and you moaned lowly as his finger curled inside of you, hitting a spot that made stars burst across your vision. He touched you in a way that stole your breath from your lungs, and when he added another finger, his name slipped from your lips, soft and pleading.

You reached forward to fumble with the front of his trousers, managing to unsnap and unzip them after a few seconds. He hissed between his teeth as you pushed his underwear down, pulling him free, and shit, you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been this. Jing Yuan wasn’t a small man, so you supposed this shouldn’t have come as a shock, but he was big. He was thick, and long enough to make you nervous, and when you reached forward and wrapped your hand around him, your fingers barely even met.

His breath hitched sharply when you touched him, and you felt him twitch against your palm, throbbing. When his fingers curled inside of you, you squeezed him, making him cry out. You touched him in slow, even strokes as your hips ground down on his hand, and when his thumb found your clit, you picked up the pace.

His head fell against the back of the bench as you squeezed his tip, circling your thumb around him, making him groan, low and long, hips bucking into your touch. He was leaking precum, and you used it to aid in your motions, smearing it around the head of his dick, making his own motions falter for a moment.

You wanted him so badly at that moment, as you watched his pretty face twist with pleasure, with need. You could feel your climax building, winding tighter under your skin, driving a high, breathless wine from between your gritted teeth as you ground your hips down harder. When he sped up his pace to aid you, your hips jumped, heartbeat pounding in your ears, and you were grinding down on his hand like a bitch in heat.

You really weren’t going to last, not when he knew exactly where to touch you, fingers practiced and sure, and fuck, you felt like you were melting into him, fingers slipping from his cock to grip at his shoulders, your ability to focus rapidly draining away.

Your head dropped back in pleasure as he worked you even closer to your high, allowing him room to latch his mouth onto your throat, surely leaving marks as his teeth dragged against your skin, but you hardly had the wherewithal to even begin to care about that, not as your thoughts and senses devolved into complete delirium.

With a final press of his thumb, you tumbled over the edge with a broken cry, nails digging into Jing Yuan’s skin as you came. He worked you through it with whispered filth and an unfaltering pace, making you sob with rapture, squirming helplessly as he worked you into overstimulation, dangerously close to a second climax before he pulled away.

You collapsed, boneless and panting against his chest, and he drew you close, mouth hot as it molded to yours, and as you shifted forward, you could feel him, pressed against your bare stomach.

The friction made him groan, hands on your hips, blunt nails digging into your skin, but you needed more, and you knew he wouldn’t protest giving you just that.

“How do you want me?” Jing Yuan rasped, “do you want to be on top? It may be more comfortable for you to adjust that way. I’m afraid I don’t have protection, though. That does not tend to be something I keep here in my office.”

“I’m on birth control,” you said, “it will be okay.”

After a moment of consideration, you shifted forward to press yourself against him, an action that earned a breathless groan. He felt hot against you, almost searing, and as you slowly rolled your hips, you felt his grip grow tighter, almost impatient. A spike of arousal shot through you as his jaw tightened, his restraint clearly being tested by your teasing.

Slowly, you began to sink down. You were met with some resistance, even just the tip was a stretch, and you had to pause for a moment, just to catch your breath, which was escaping your lips in quick bursts.

“Relax,” he urged, voice low; tone taught and fraying, “breathe. You can take it.”

A quick nod as you tried to do as he said, resting your forehead against his shoulder. You pushed down further, drawing a hushed groan, his hands slipping from your hips to your waist, gently urging you downwards. It took another few moments of adjusting before you were able to take all of him, and you sat there for a few moments, breathless and stuffed completely full.

His head lolled back against the bench, expression stricken and lips parted, and you pulled him into a kiss, which he returned with vigor. You stayed still as you adjusted to the size, something that clearly wasn’t helping with keeping his restraint in place, evident from the way he was gripping your body, tight enough to bruise.

Just to test the waters, you shifted forward in a slow, easy grind, and he groaned, long and low and aching. You whined into his mouth, toes curling as you rolled your hips again, just to hear that wonderful sound again.

His hands drifted back to your hips, squeezing as you moved again, this time lifting yourself halfway up, only to take him again, and he was surely leaving bruises, absolutely holding back, especially as you thrust back down again.

“Tight,” he whispered, “it’s— fuck— it’s so tight.”

That did it for you. You put your hands on his shoulders as you picked up the pace, forcing the breath from your own lungs, rendering him speechless as he watched you, eyes fixed to where the two of you were connected, watching his thick cock disappear inside of you.

The stretch of him made you feel like your mind had emptied itself out, and you let out a thin, breathy moan as his hips bucked up, stuffing you full as your nails dug into his shoulders. You yanked him into a messy kiss, hands lacing into his hair, and he growled against your mouth, a sound that sent shockwaves down your spine.

Another tug at his hair, and you were moving, your back suddenly against the desk, chess pieces scattering around you as he rucked your legs up, pulling them against his hips as he pressed close. You cried out, the new angle making the tip of his cock rub just right against spots inside of you that you didn’t even know existed.

You lifted your hips from the desk to meet him, propping yourself up on bent elbows as he leaned over you to join your lips to his. The pace he set was slow, but the strong impact of each thrust made it impossible for you to think , or to even speak as his hands slid along your thighs to the bend of your knees, holding you in place for him as he fucked you.

The kiss was broken, and he rested his forehead against yours, just for a spell, before he was drawing back a little, hips pressing forward, and one of his hands was moving between your bodies, clit under his thumb, forcing you to tighten around him, forcing broken gasps from both of you.

“Deeper,” you found yourself blurting, and he chuckled darkly against your skin.

“If that’s what pleases you.”

Your head fell back in bliss as he changed the angle, the speed picking up as well, and you could do nothing else but gasp his name, sprawling back over the desk as he reduced you to a mess, beginning to wind tighter once more, thighs trembling in his grip.

You were still sensitive from your last climax, something he was undoubtedly aware of as he touched you in all the right places, as his mouth found your breast, tongue passing over your nipple and making your back arch into his touch. It was too much, but also not nearly enough, something that was as oxymoronic as it was maddening.

Your hands scrambled across the smooth surface of the desk before finally curling around the edge, nails digging into the wood, and you watched Jing Yuan above you with hazy eyes; watched the way his face twisted and pinched in bliss. He was thick and heavy and hot inside of you, and you were not going to last, not like this, not when he was whispering filth and praises and fucking you so deep that you could barely tell where he started and you ended.

The pressure of his thumb on your clit picked up, and you squirmed in his hold, the back of your head knocking against the surface of the desk underneath it, your eyes squeezing closed, the delirious, desperate feeling that comes before a climax bleeding into your system, threading its way through you, leaving you utterly helpless to its pull.

You were barely aware of what you were even saying, but you knew his name was on your lips, and you were so close that you could hardly take it, but he wasn’t slowing down, not even as you bucked and squirmed and shook under his touch.

The edge came quicker than you’d have pleased, and your back bowed up as you came undone, trying and failing to stray quiet as your high washed over you with tidal wave force. You were throbbing around him, squeezing him tight, and you could hear him growling in pleasure, feel him twitch inside of you, only driving you higher as your eyes rolled back behind closed lids, lips parted, cheeks flushed pink.

But he wasn’t letting up, not even as you squirmed with overstimulation, clamping a hand over your mouth to try and quiet yourself, barely able to handle the continued stimulation. The stretch of him inside of you and the feel of his thumb on your clit was making you feel like you were losing yourself, and if he knew that, he was only encouraging it.

You wanted him to cum, to feel him lose himself too, to see it on his face as he spilled himself inside of you, just as drunk on bliss as you were. You locked your ankles together behind his body, pushing him deeper, and you got the privilege of listening to him groan.

Your second climax knocked the wind out of you, and it was only then that he was pulling his hand away, fucking you through the aftershocks of the climax, but the base of his cock was rubbing against your oversensitive clit, prolonging your high, and building you towards another one.

His hand found your hip, holding you down as his pace picked up to something almost punishing as he chased his own climax, and you found yourself scrambling forward to grab onto him, kissing him hard and deep, hips moving with his and making him moan into your mouth, grip tightening on your body as he pushed you back onto your back, one hand flattening on your lower stomach to hold you down as he thrust all the way in, staying close as he rolled his hips in slow, deep rocks that made you feel like you were burning alive, but you could do no more than lay there and take it as he worked you into another dizzying climax.

It hit you with a force that made you scream, forcing you to clamp a hand over your mouth, the tears that had caught in your lashes leaking down your cheeks, and his thrusts were growing uneven, breath unsteady. You felt him shudder, hips twitching, sending jolts of almost painful pleasure through your spent body, making you whine.

With a low, unrestrained moan, he was thrusting deep as he could go, and you could feel him trembling , grip iron tight on your body as he spilled inside of you, and you pulled him down into a fierce kiss, bucking your hips to work him through his climax. He moaned against your mouth, gasping your name when you deliberately squeezed around him, breaking the kiss to sink his teeth into your shoulder to muffle his unrestrained cries.

You felt him begin to soften inside of you, though he remained close, arms wrapped around your body as you gasped for breath. It was with almost palpable reluctance that he pulled out, and after gathering you into his arms, he was falling back to sit on the bench behind him, chest heaving, eyes closed.

A few moments passed of just laying together before he was moving for a drawer in his desk, and you realized he was reaching for a package of tissues, which he used to wipe your thighs clean, depositing the tissue in the trash can tucked beneath the desk. You grabbed your panties from the floor, tugging them back on before settling beside him once again.

“I didn’t picture that happening for the first time here,” he said, after a few moments of comfortable silence, “though I can’t say I’m complaining.”

Despite everything, you felt your cheeks warm. It was definitely comical that you were blushing at that of all things after he’d just fucked your brains out, but you supposed it couldn’t be helped.

“Where did you picture it?” You asked, settling closer to him, smiling as he wrapped his arms around your body.

“Preferably my bedroom,” he said, “or yours. I wanted to at least take you out first. Call me old fashioned, but I’m quite fond of the act of courtship.”

You smiled. “We can still do that.”

A chuckle. “Yes. You’re quite right.”

For as long as possible (and until you started to get cold), the two of you sat curled up together on the bench before Jing Yuan suggested getting dressed, which didn’t sound like a bad idea. But it wasn’t until you tried to stand that you realized that might be a problem.

“This is your fault,” you said, as he helped you put your shorts back on, and he smiled, as calm as ever.

“And I’d do it again.”

That, you weren’t ashamed to say, made you blush. From the smirk on his face, that was exactly his intention. You shot him a glare, but it was short lived when he pressed a kiss to your forehead, offering you a hand to help you up.

Your legs were still wobbly, but with his support, you were able to stand.

“Well, love,” he said, “since we’re doing things in reverse order, how about lunch? We can take the rest of the day off, go back to my home?”

You leaned closer to him, lacing your fingers tight with his. “I’d like that.”

He kissed you, slow and gentle, before he led you from the Seat of Divine Foresight, leaving the mess of forgotten chess pieces scattered across the floor, chatting happily about what restaurants he thought you’d like.

You never did finish that game.

Though, of course, there would be others in the future.

566 notes · View notes

peeweekey · 13 days

Text

8:05 | SAM

word count: 3.2k

summary: sam’s ten heart event with a twist.

tags: winter, developing relationships, fluff, swearing, cuddling, hiding from his mother in his bed lol

a/n: this spiralled out of my control and into 3k words… enjoy!

it’s cold.

the fleece coat you’ve bundled yourself in cannot protect goosebumps from forming from the biting chill of the valley’s winter nights. your breaths come out in cloudy puffs of air, the heat slowly draining out of every exhale. it’s dark out, poorly spaced lampposts providing the bare minimum amount of light to navigate.

you got sam’s letter earlier, a clumsily written note that was stuffed haphazardly into your farm’s mailbox—the yellow lined paper he used, all crumpled and ripped.

meet me in front of my house! at 8 pm, i’ll be waiting. there’s something i want to tell you.

the ending sentence is somehow even more sloppily written compared to the ones before it. as if he was debating whether or not to add it in, but ultimately decided for it—it’s funny to imagine him hunched over his desk, stressing over what to write to you.

well, you won’t deny feeling excitement over the possibility of whatever sam has to say. if the subtle skip in your step is anything to go by.

you walk through the silent night of the town, it seems like everything’s frozen in place during the colder times of the year—everyone’s safe at home, toasty under their covers and you’d imagine thoroughly enjoying going to bed at 7 pm.

you do too, sometimes. there’s less to do when the ground is too frozen to plant any crop.

there’s a lot more free time out of the farm during the winter. you’ve really started integrating yourself with the townspeople—helping haley find her bracelet, befriending sam’s prickly coworker shane, and even discovering a shadowperson named Krobus in the town sewers. it really is starting to feel like home.

walking, you cut the corner passing by emily and haley’s house—and there he is.

he looks devastatingly handsome all dressed in winter clothing. his regular denim jacket switched out for a dark woolen coat, his pants are unripped and, surprisingly, not smeared with dirt.

though what you like most about his winter attire is his hair. those wild golden locks are laid flat under a woolen beanie—a stark difference from the spiked updo he usually does (though you like that one too). the tips of his hair are slightly curled upwards, revealing that family trait of curly hair.

you creep closer, just watching him wait for you—the way he folds his arms in an attempt to warm up, and the little shuffle he does on his feet. you laugh softly, he must’ve been waiting a while—just like you have for him.

sam turns at the sound of your laugh, his body unconsciously tilting towards you, like a magnet’s uncontrollable attracting to metal. “you made it,” he breathes, his nose, ears and cheeks pinkened by the cold.

you nod, unable to stop a bashful smile from forming on your lips. “i made it.”

a big grin splits his face, mimicking yours. underneath the lone lamplight he looks jaw-droppingly handsome. you feel yourself become warm just in proximity to him.

“i wanted to talk to you in private,” he says. sam’s buzzing with energy, surveying the dark streets before meeting your gaze with his. “it’s kinda cold out here though… i, um—i can sneak you into my room…”

your heart skips a beat, like you’ve skipped a step on a staircase. “what?” you croak.

your eyes catch onto him wringing his fingers, a nervous habit you can’t help but always notice (not because his hands are nice and interesting to look at, not at all).

“you don’t wanna?”

“no!” you inhale, trying to alleviate the twisting sensation in your gut. “i do wanna, ahem, lead the way.”

sam smiles at you, dimples and all. he leads you towards the tiny bedroom window in front of his house. the window is already open—you assume that’s where he jumped out of to meet you.

he climbs through the window with minimal effort, landing on the flooring with a dull thump!

you raise a brow. “have you done this before?”

sam stretches his hand out to you, waiting. his smile turnt sheepish. “i mean, i think we were all rebellious teenagers once.”

you resist the urge to snort—sam’s nervous, you can tell. he doesn’t have his quips and jokes tonight. and he’s shy, but eager. like a puppy, excited and curious about the world.

“o-kay,” you say, one hand in his hand the other set firmly on the windowsill. “make sure i don’t fall please.”

sam nods, eagerly. the curled ends of his hair shake along with the motion as he does.

how endearing.

you tighten your grip on his hand, hauling yourself through the small window, trying your damn best to not make any sudden noise. which is successful for the most part, only a tiny huff of exertion escapes you.

annoying, yes. but the chill of winter burns through any energy you have faster than other seasons.

your feet connect with the wood of his floor, hand still clasped in his and the chill merely at your back. it’s warm inside, with him.

his room is the same as it’s always been when you’d visit before—shelves, band equipment, posters—but the ambiance is different. a little more charged with tension so thick you could cut through it with a knife.

sam does not bother turning on his light, you don’t mind it all that much. but it takes some effort to avoid tumbling over stray objects that clutter his bedroom floor.

“look, I know I’ve been about nothing but the band for a while now…” he starts. “but I don’t want you to think that’s all i’m interested in.”

you chuckle, clasping your fingers behind your back. “it certainly takes up a big chunk of your interests.”

he pouts, literally pouts. it must be the love bug you caught because you think it’s just plain adorable. “i’m really trying over here!”

“sorry!” you grin, “okay, continue.”

“well, um… shoot, this is kinda hard, huh?” he forces an awkward chuckle. “and nerve-wrecking… but what i’m trying to say is…”

“i’m really happy that we’ve grown this close, and well…” sam looks at you, he’s stupidly red—the color spreading all over his face. “i—i’m just wondering, do you think of me as… just a friend?”

your breath stutters, and you feel yourself blushing before you can do anything to stop it. you stare at him as he does with you. the two of you locking eyes for a second, it feels like it’s just you and him in the world.

you feel your shy admittance at the tip of your tongue. no, you’d say, you’re more than that for me, if you want to be.

sam smiles at you, shy but so, so overwhelmingly bright—it’s blinding. your head is running a mile a minute when you finally get the courage—

“sam!” you hear jodi’s groggy voice from outside the door. your stomach drops with dread. “somebody’s at the door! go and check please?”

you lock eyes once again, this time for entirely different reasons, and with entirely different feelings.

“oh my god, sam,” you whisper hurriedly, panic gripping you. “your mom doesn’t know i’m here—what do we do—”

“hold on—” he replies, with the same sense of urgency as you. “okay, okay—i have a plan, just trust me, ‘kay?”

you think you might break out into a cold sweat. you look at him quizzically, “what?”

sam gives you an apologetic smile with that stupid beautiful face of his, he moves forward, grabbing you by your wrists, and moving you with him—towards his bed.

“sam!” you hiss, alarms are blaring in every corner of your mind as sam all but drags you under the toasty covers of his bed. he lifts the blanket and stations you by the edge, covering you in the blanket—which is now a lumpy mess.

this is his childhood bed you’re in, where his mother and brother are just by the door.

and his mother is calling him.

“i’ll get this over with quick,” he says to you, already heading towards the door of his room. “hang on tight, ‘kay?”

you breathe a sound of agreement, way too jittery to formulate any proper response as you quieten under the covers.

though the sheets do feel nice, and smells overwhelmingly of that specific cologne he uses (stolen from joja inventory, he told you once). you will yourself not to relax and melt into the sheets so fast. instead, you listen for each and every sound that may give hint to whatever the hell is happening.

there’s a commotion that you can hear happening, the door swings open, the hinges creaking along with it—this whole surreal experience feels a little like the confrontation part of a horror movie, the helpless victim hiding and the heavy footfalls of the killer.

though in your case, it’s not one set of footsteps, but two.

“what are you two doing here?”

“you’re the one who called us over, remember?” you can recognize the band’s shut-in pianist’s voice from anywhere. “you were all like, stop skipping practice, seb.”

sam’s voice is oddly pitchy when he responds. “…well, tonight’s no good!”

you hear the other person huff, you strain your ears harder to listen. the huffing person clearly fed up with the strange behavior sam’s putting out right now.

“my mom and vincent are asleep,” he adds hurriedly. “they’d wake up—”

you resist the urge to groan, stifling your mouth under a sweaty palm. jodie was just speaking to him minutes ago, there’s no way they’d buy that. he cannot be a more obvious liar.

thankfully they gloss over the fact. “sam, why are you acting so damn weird?” sebastian asks, straightforward as ever.

“yeah,” the other voice adds. feminine but strong. which you now identify as abigail’s, you hear a pinch of impatience in her voice. “and why are you red? did you sit outside in the snow or something—”

sam chokes, which he tries to conceal as an odd sounding cough. abigail pauses mid-sentence. the shift in the atmosphere is palpable. you screw your eyes shut, hearing the rapid rate of your heartbeat. it’s so loud you’re almost convinced the trio can hear the thumping from your hiding spot under the sheets. this is it, they’re going to discover you.

“oh, oh i see,” abigail grins. “on second thought, i wouldn't risk catching all those germs. i’m feeling starved, let’s hit the saloon, seb.”

the aforementioned man grumbles, seemingly puzzled by the sudden switch in abigail’s attitude. “huh… why?” abigail must have whispered something to him—you can barely hear over the muffle of sam’s blanket comforters. “ugh, alright. fine. you owe us one, sam.”

“oh, of course! mhm, yup,” you cringe at the immense awkwardness of sam’s response, feeling the overwhelming urge to pull out your own hair. “i’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah? now shoo! wouldn’t wanna get you both sick or somethin’…”

“huh?” sebastian replies, rightfully puzzled as they’re forcefully pushed out of the room. “why would we see you tomorrow if you’re sick—”

“well seb,” abigail says smugly. “let’s just say sammy here is taking care of some important business—”

“okay, bye!” you hear the door click shut. to your utter bewilderment, sam shut the door in their faces.

the room is deathly quiet, the air is stagnant and stuffy. once you feel it safe enough, you crane your neck out of the blankets to check over him. to trace any lingering feeling the sudden visit might’ve given him. sam’s got his back rested against the wood of his door, his back slumped.

“i—i wasn’t expecting that,” you say quietly from your hiding spot on his bed. peeking the top half of your face, watching the door carefully. “kinda nerve-wracking.”

and embarrassing.

“i know—i’m sorry,” he sighs, rubbing his temples. “i didn’t expect them coming over.”

“sebastian said you invited them for practice, though.” you point out.

“maybe i did,” he admits, creeping closer to you on the bed, even if he’s guilty and embarrassed. “i totally forgot—i mean, i was really nervous! my mind blanks when i get nervous…”

sam stops right by the side of the bed, as if he’s waiting for your permission to get in with you—in his own bed. and to be perfectly honest, you really want him to.

“kinda ruined the atmosphere too,” he looks away from you, eyes downcast and melancholy. “i had this whole thing planned too, and i, just… ugh…”

your eyes soften. “sam, it’s really fine. okay, maybe a little shocking but you know it’s not enough to scare me away.”

he looks down at you, worried. his eyebrows are ever so slightly pinched—you wish you could run your fingers over it, and smooth it out yourself.

“plus,” you murmur, reaching over the small amount of space between the two of you to clasp his wrist. “i’m not just gonna leave… just tell me what you were going to say—before the… interruption.”

that gives you the final push to gather your courage to tug him into bed with you. sam follows, flopping onto the empty bedding next to you without a fight. for a moment, it’s just the two of you, side by side, slowly huddling closer and closer for warmth.

and sam is warm. he’s practically radiating comfy heat you wish to burrow into—or wrap yourself around. the perfect bed-partner for winter nights like these.

you find yourself becoming addicted to the feeling.

sam angles his body towards you. you on your back and him on his side, it feels intimate and special. and for some reason, it feels familiar—like you’ve always belonged by his side.

“i think you know already,” he tells you, his eyes are not clear in the dim light but you know, there are practically hearts in them. “that i like you.”

you giggle softly. “and i think you know the same about me.”

sam tentatively grasps your hand, the freezing fingertips thawing under his careful touch. the caress of his hand on yours sends tingling electricity down your spine, your whole body feels alert—alive.

he speaks again, but this time his tone is a whisper of what it usually is. “stay awhile?”

“yeah,” you swallow, squeezing his hand in your grip. a small smile on your lips. “yes, i want to.”

“good,” he smiles, his eyes crinkle at the edges so softly and the dimples on his cheeks deepen. there really is no one else who can compare for you. “hey, you’re really cold… let me warm you up?”

you turn to your side, facing him. at this angle, your faces are mere inches apart. you can trace every dip, line and curve of his face, and he yours. your hand tingles with the overwhelming urge to reach for him and squeeze.

“it is cold,” you agree. “i’d very much like that.”

“phew,” he softly sighs. sam drags his fingers up your arm, stopping at your elbow. wherever he touches, a whisper of him lingers on your skin—a bone deep imprint you yearn for him to spread all across your skin.

you roll into him with little to no effort at all. sam drags you to his chest, your ear perched right above his heart, you can hear the steady thump! of his heartbeat from underneath. sam winds his arms around you, intensifying the heat you feel by tenfold—it’s not uncomfortable at all, though. you like it.

your bodies fit perfectly together, just like puzzle pieces. a mess of limbs tangling together. the warmth of him making you shudder in honey-like delight. it feels syrupy and soft and warm wrapped in his arms.

his hand at your back travels downwards, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake you feel even through the thickness of the fabric separating the skin of your back and his fingertips. his hands feel rough and calloused at the small of your back—from playing guitar and his skateboarding incidents—but you enjoy the feeling.

you trail your fingers under the thick fabric of his jacket and shirt, feeling the smooth skin underneath—the action has no deeper meaning than you wanting to feel.

sam’s uncharacteristically quiet. his breaths are slow and long, like he’s on the verge of sleep. yet his arms are wound tight around you—like he never wants to let go of you. your nerves make you feel like a slow simmering soup. warm and slowly cooking over the fire.

you two stay entangled for a while, in comfortable silence. sometime during the night you’ve matched your breathing to his, and he pulled you somehow even closer to his body.

but, a thump comes from his window, a light tapping sound. soft but persistent. the two of you opt to ignore it, in favor of snuggling closer to each other. yet the taps continue, and become louder and faster.

disrupted by the noise, sam mournfully throws the covers from over him to check, untangling himself from your grip. leaving a very him-shaped indent on the bed left in his wake. you groan, sticking your bottom lip out, you miss the warmth of him already.

“oh shit.”

the expletive makes you sit up in his bed, the comforter draping off your middle. you can make out the shape of him even with the dimness of the light—sam’s back is towards you, and if your eyes dare deceive you, he looks like he’s shrinking into himself a tiny bit.

“what is it?” you whisper-shout to him.

he slowly turns to you, wide eyed, his shoulders stiff. sort of resembling a kicked-dog. sam bows down his head—with what you think is shame, for what reason, you can’t tell. rubbing your eyes of sleep, you furrow your brow, craning your neck to look out the window behind him.

abigail and sebastian are there, waving wildly at you. your eyes widen. abigail and sebastian are waving at you with smug smiles plastered on their faces.

your stomach drops for the umpteenth time that night. you honestly feel too horrified to speak.

you bury yourself under the sheets, a feeble attempt to conceal your mortification. so that’s why abigail was playing along with sam’s urgent ramblings—she knew (not that sam was any good at keeping a cool facade, he is totally incapable of lying smoothly). you groan, you feel like a rebellious teenager again, only the part where you get caught and utterly humiliated.

outside, you can hear the loud roaring laughter of the duo through the glass, alongside the awkward, embarrassed chatter of your newly-minted boyfriend. (not technically official, but the title succeeds to relieve your horror by the tiniest bit)

still, you stay put. through the mortification and embarrassment you still stick yourself to sam’s side, or more literally, on his bed—because you know, there’s no other place you’d rather be.

you spare another glance out of the covers at the trio—to your surprise, sam’s beat you to it. looking at you with heart eyes and the most lovesick expression (you’re pretty sure yours looks the same).

you know there’s going to be a lot more explaining to do in the morning. but it doesn’t matter to you, not right now when you’re in sam’s bed on the verge of sleep.

not when you feel so warm.

a/n: shoutout to the ass trio for making an appearance in the fic! i love you abby and seb.

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dianneking · 1 month

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The Affair - Chapter 1 (Larissa/Reader)

Hiya! As part of my weekly writing challenge, I wrote this chapter over two writing sessions, and I chose not to wait for the fic to be finished before posting. It'll probably be a couple of chapters all together.

Pairing: Larissa Weems/You Rating: Mature

Tags: Morally Ambiguous Character, Swearing, Boss/Employee Relationship, Infidelity, Second-person POV, Teacher Reader.

Link to AO3 in the title

The Affair - Chapter 1

Waiting in the snow for a married woman , you thought, moodily pulling your scarf up to cover your freezing nose as yet another car passed, how the fuck did my life come to this?

You had never been one for thrills in life. If anything, you had been pretty boring: you’d always liked English class at school, always got straight As, never stepped a foot out of line. You never felt the need to, nor the appeal of being rebellious. You’d gone on to get a bachelor’s degree and teacher’s certification, and then you’d gone on to teach English in a string of small town schools.

There was only one aspect out of the ordinary in your life up until now; you could never settle down in one place.. You felt a restlessness, a pull towards something you still hadn’t found, and after a couple of years in a place, it inevitably built up until it was too strong to resist. And so you packed your bags, applied for a job somewhere else, and started anew.

You didn’t think Jericho would be much different. Small town, 5 thousand inhabitants, only spots of interest a tacky historical reconstruction site and a school full of outcasts. The same one you had applied to. Nothing much to offer. You’d give it a year or two at most.

You didn’t really care about the fact that you were teaching outcasts. They might drink blood or howl at the moon or whatever in their spare time, but they were teenagers that had to learn to write a proper essay just like anyone else. You prided yourself in your work ethic and told that to the board when they interviewed you. Apparently they appreciated that. Or there was nobody else who had applied. There had been some accidents during the last school year, apparently. The board had repeated several times that it had been a one-off and it had been taken care of definitively.They had all seemed very defensive about the topic.

Once again, you shrugged it off. You had no time to waste on rumors and things of the past. The school had its quirks, sure, but all schools had, each in their own way. You settled in your quarters on the school grounds, and started reviewing your lesson plans taking into account the notes left by the previous teacher. You settled in for your usual routine of lessons, tests, marking that you were familiar with by now.

And then she barged into your life, throwing routine and predictability to the wind.

Even with your aversion to gossip, you’d heard about her. Larissa Weems, the best principal Nevermore had ever had, mysteriously injured in the line of work, supposedly trying to protect the school, and hospitalized for months after that. When talking about her, voices dropped to a whisper out of respect - or fear, you hadn’t been able to ascertain that.

The day she had come back, you’d have thought royalty was about to visit the school, with the amount of fretting, of preparations, of nervous energy filling the halls and rooms. You’d had to let your classes work on assignments because they had been unable to listen to one word of what you were explaining. You had rolled your eyes in the privacy of your room. Seriously, you’d seen plenty of disruptive principals in your years of teaching, but one who could be so distracting even before she had set foot back in school? That was a first.

You felt obliged to show up as well to the welcoming committee. The whole staff was there, as well as the student body. Some had even prepared signs, and there was a white banner draped along the balcony on which was written, in red paint, a very wonky Welcome back Princ. Weems .

It was cute that she was so beloved by her school, you thought, but you were also thinking of how to recover the day of missed lessons, and how to optimize the next days’ so as to go back on track. You tried not to be too miffed about it.

All of the thoughts of lesson plans and all of the lingering irritation at them being disrupted fled your brain at the sight of the first foot stepping out of the car. Shiny, varnished black shoes, showing off a milky ankle, and a shapely calf that look longer than any you’d seen (not that you made a point of looking at women’s legs all the time, but sometimes your eyes did wander…)

The skin on show was sadly cut off below the knee by the modest hemline of a woolen dress and it was at that point that Nevermore’s principal exited the car in all of her towering beauty, and your mind went completely blank, cause in all of their gossip everyone in Nevermore had forgotten to mention a small, key detail about the principal.

She was stunning.

The most beautiful woman you’d ever seen was standing before you, waving and smiling regally, as the whole school cheered. You almost didn’t notice all the jubilant ruckus, your eyes too busy raking all over her figure, as if trying to commit every single detail to memory. Her slender, elegant hands, wrapped in leather gloves. The perfectly-tailored coat, in the same fabric and color as the dress. The sparkle of her gold jewelry in the pale winter sun. The perfect proportion of her face, the way the bright red lipstick brought attention to her smile.

Her light eyes were roaming all over the crowd, as if taking stock of known faces and new entries. Finally her gaze fixed on you, and you could see a spark of amusement flicker on her face at seeing you.

You belatedly realized that you had been gaping at her like a fish out of water.

The day after you had still been beating yourself up about the humiliation at being caught slack-jawed staring at your boss when she visited you in your classroom after you were done with the day’s lessons.

She rapped against the doorframe, but strode in before you could say anything. You scrambled to your feet, awkwardly, while she covered the distance from the door to your desk in a couple of long steps. She was wearing another dress today, a tartan dress with a belt that cinched her waist, underlying the shape of her hips and chest while still being completely work-appropriate.

“So you’re the new teacher they have hired to replace poor Collins.” It wasn’t a question, but you nodded anyway. “I’m Larissa Weems. Usually, I have the final word on new hires. The board does a wonderful job but sometimes they lack a certain sort of practicality in their assessment of candidates, as it happened with the last hire. I wasn’t convinced by her spiel, but the board insisted and…well. I should have trusted my gut instinct.” Her eyes grew distant for a second, before focusing back on you with a hard gaze. You could see the speckles of lighter and darker blue mixing in her irises, and the perfectly applied make-up that highlighted their natural beauty. You tried to shake yourself out of her charm. She could be trying to fire you, and you were busy ogling her! That’s not the kind of person you were! You cleared your voice, trying to think up something to say to help your case.

“I…”

“I know you have been hired already, and I am sure you are a perfect fit for the role. I’d just like to have a little chat together, nothing too formal, just getting to know each other a little bit better.” She smiled as she said that, and while you were sure it was supposed to be a polite smile, you couldn’t help the shiver that went down your spine at that.

She looks like a predator closing in on prey , your mind unhelpfully suggested.

You swallowed, suddenly conscious of your sweaty palms and increasing heart rate.

“O-of course, ma'am." was all you could meekily say.

"Perfect." she purred. "Meet me at seven sharp at the Lilac Lounge. I'll have a private booth reserved."

To be continued...

< Previous Weekly Writing Challenge Fic My masterlist

#dianneking writes #dianneking fanfiction #larissa weems #larissa weems fanfiction #gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie fanfiction #dragonmist fanfiction #cross posted on ao3 #larissa weems/reader #larissa weems x reader

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kaorisun · 10 months

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𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 immortality is an abundant curse (1)

pairing : blade x reader

tags : angst, hurt no comfort, reincarnation, canon divergence

word count : 5.3k

chapters : one • two • three

crossposted to : AO3

Summary : Like most good things involving his past, Blade keeps them buried deep within, only allowing himself to reminisce in the privacy of his own mind.

Blade recalls the events that caused him to curse his immortality.

Blade smirks at the way the Cloud Knights beside him tremble as they escort him to face the General. His footsteps echo throughout the hall— the only thing he could hear in the silence of the Shackling Prison.

He can hear the General address his underling before he feels a gaze settle on him. Glancing up, he wears a fierce expression as he meets Jing Yuan’s eyes.

The General speaks, “Do you remember me?”

“I remember,” he states, the following words grained into his mind as if they were coded into his very being.

“Of five people, three must pay a price,” Blade starts, smirking at the way the two visibly tense.

“You are not one of them, Jing Yuan.”

Before the General’s young protégé has a chance to react, Blade breaks free from his shackles, the metal flying off his wrists with ease. The Cloud Knights react a moment too late, allowing him the window of opportunity he needs to act first and throw them back.

A watery sword flies past his face, but he merely leans to the side out of the way.

Despite the young swordsman’s skills, his lack of experience and the gap between them is apparent.

With a triumphant expression, he looks to Jing Yuan, anger filling his gaze.

“Goodbye, General. I have more important matters to attend to,” Blade states before disappearing within the shadows of the prison. He can hear Jing Yuan hurriedly command his men to chase after him, but he knows nothing will come of it.

As Destiny’s Slave predicted, they were woefully unprepared, he thinks to himself.

The moment he’s out of their vicinity, that once smug expression falls, returning to its usual stoic, empty state. In his times of solitude, he seems to wear this blank expression often. Without the fires of vengeance fueling his emotions, he becomes a husk of who he used to be.

For a moment, he glances back at the prison he fled from.

Jing Yuan.

While he’s certain he’d be able to pin some sort of blame on the man for his suffering, he refuses to do so. There’s various reasons, but one stands out in his mind as the most prominent.

After all, there was once a time that he trusted his most precious treasure to the man. And that treasure of his was rather fond of the General.

Blade feels a small sliver of warmth at the memory.

Of course, you’d never forgive him if he brought his wrath upon Jing Yuan. You easily angered when he bickered with the man, insisting that the two had to talk it out and make amends. With your peacemaking, he could never stay mad at the other for long.

Besides, he thinks, there are others more directly responsible.

Staring blankly ahead, he pushes the thought aside as he arrives at the designated rendezvous point, eyes gazing off into the distance as Kafka approaches him.

“It took you long enough, Bladie. Thought I’d have to go ahead and get myself arrested without you here,” Kafka chides lightheartedly, “Did the General start monologuing or did you keep me waiting on purpose?”

“I waited for the opportunity to escape, as the slave instructed me to do,” he responds curtly. Kafka looks at him with a small smile.

“Still with that? Elio prefers being called by name, Blade,” she teases. Blade ignores her comment, focusing instead on the way his “name” sounds as she speaks.

“Blade” is but another thing borrowed from others to keep himself afloat. From the clothes on his back to this new name of his, it seems like everything holding him up is borrowed. Even long before he acquired said name, everything he owned was not his.

At least, almost everything. Though, it fills him with bitterness as ghosts of the past enter his head, lingering and meddling in his conscious mind.

Aside from his true name, you were his, were you not? Of course, he’d given you his heart and received yours in return, but that relationship was something that unequivocally belonged to him. It was not something gifted to him, nor was it something lent to him by a bosom friend.

What he had with you was something only the pair of you could understand or claim ownership over. A connection unlike any other— had he been more of an optimist, he’d have called you his soulmate.

Or, rather, if you were still around, perhaps the word “soulmate” wouldn’t drip off his tongue like venom.

Alas, aside from his past relationship, he, too, has his true name. Ren, a name that also belonged to him. Despite that, he prefers to continue on as “Blade” or “the unnamed.”

The name only served as a constant reminder of what is absent, however, so he no longer uses it. Just as he’s grown to no longer recognize the reflection staring back at him in the mirror, the name “Ren” seems less like his own and instead that of a stranger.

Without you there to say his name in the voice he’d once adored, his name became nothing but an untouched fragment of his past.

Alongside his memories of you, he refuses to allow his real name to be tainted by the vengeance, anger, and bitterness that fuels him today.

Like most good things involving his past, Blade keeps them buried deep within, only allowing himself to reminisce in the privacy of his own mind.

“…en! Ren!” a familiar voice calls out to him. Blade cracks open his eyes, finding that he is no longer his Stellaron Hunter self, but Ren.

He remembers this, unable to stop himself from smiling as he sees you fast approaching, a wide, loving smile on your face as your eyes meet. Ren doesn’t need to look around to know that he’s in a memory of his past— much preferring to enjoy this moment.

“You’re back early! Jing Yuan said you’d be out until sundown,” you chime, stopping in front of him. Glancing behind you, Ren spots the General, who offers a casual wave. Chuckling, he looks down at you.

“I finished my duties earlier than expected, so I returned early. What have you been up to? Causing the General trouble?” he asks teasingly, You hit him gently on the arm— a touch not meant to hurt— one that he misses dearly— before smiling.

“He’s causing me trouble, Ren. I’ve been trying to gather herbs and work, but he’s been bothering me incessantly! He seems to only live up to the title of ‘Dozing General’ when it suits him!” you outwardly complain. Ren has to hold back laughter lest he further provoke your ire, so he distracts himself by looking back at Jing Yuan with a quizzical expression.

“I was only telling this one that they work too hard... they could afford to learn a thing or two from my reputation. Ren, why do you allow them to continue overworking like this?” Jing Yuan questions, a docile smile on his face as he approaches, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s because Ren gets injured all the time! He lets me work hard because he likes being pampered,” you retort, glancing over at him with a teasing smile. Ren narrows his eyes.

“I do not enjoy being pampered, as you so claim. You’re merely skilled at healing, so naturally, I’ll come to you for aid,” Ren responds simply. You raise a brow at him before your eyes wander to his arm, gasping.

“Hey! Why didn’t you say you were injured? Come on— I’m patching this up now! See, General? This is precisely why I had to find those medicinal herbs today!” You insist, dragging him off so you can properly tend to his wounds.

While you gather your needed supplies, Ren engages in a game of chess with the other man, using his good arm as you take hold of his injured one with a careful gentleness.

“Ren. Are you that unskilled of a swordsman, or are you doing this on purpose?” Jing Yuan inquires as he observes the board. Ren clicks his tongue.

“Neither. Even our enemies are able to strike me from time to time. I’m not immune to getting injured,” he says, wincing a bit as you disinfect his wound. The other man laughs.

“You also aren’t immortal, Ren. You and this restless lover of yours have short lives. You shouldn’t be so careless,” Jing Yuan scolds, overtaking him and winning their match with ease as if to punctuate his point. You laugh.

“Please, I keep forgetting you’re an old man. You know, I’m not exactly young either. Besides, there’s no such thing as true immortality. There never will be, so don’t be so silly, General. None of us are immortal, and I’m certain none of us take our lives for granted,” you speak gently. Ren glances at you, smiling.

“If we’re truly talking about someone considerably old, then shouldn’t we be talking about—” Ren is cut off by another voice.

“How many times must I mention this? I am not that old.” Imbibitor Lunae approaches with a terse expression. Ren opens his mouth to offer a greeting, but is interrupted once more.

“Injured again? You are lucky your lover is an adept healer, though you should be more careful,” the dragon says before seating himself at the table.

“That’s what I keep saying, but he never listens!” you insist, wrapping bandages around his injury before sighing, “Ren, you’re lucky I love you enough to do this for you.”

“Oh? Does that mean you’re allowing me to make a habit of this?” Ren asks.

“Absolutely not!” you retaliate.

The group bursts into laughter, even Lunae happens to be holding back a faint smile at your annoyance towards Ren’s carelessness.

Ren can’t hold back his own fond expression as he looks around the table— happy to be surrounded by those he cherished, by the people he loved.

Then, his smile falls as his eyes settle on you once more, and he has to remind himself that this is but a memory.

A phantom of what used to be.

No longer is he surrounded by the warmth of close friends. No longer is he familiar with the gentle touch of his lover— all of this is a distant part of his now extended life.

During these times, he was happy.

Despite being surrounded by Vidyadharas, Xianzhou natives, and Foxians, he adored the life he once had. Unlike many others, he did not lament over the span of his life in comparison to those around him. Even if his existence was short-lived, he would be allowed to spend it in its entirety with you.

You were both destined to have a short lifespan, but how lucky he was to be able to spend the entirety of his ephemeral existence with you. The Aeons had truly smiled upon him, allowing him the opportunity to live a fulfilling life alongside someone who had the same outlook.

You both saw the direct effects of chasing after immortality— witnessing the havoc brought by the Denizens of Abundance. Aside from that, having each other was enough to keep you both content.

You’d live together, then you’d eventually die together.

You were supposed to live and die together.

Ren was never supposed to be alive without you by his side.

With that bitterness, the memory quickly fades back into black, another voice bringing him back to the reality he wishes never was.

“Blade? Bladie! Have you always been this unresponsive?” Kafka murmurs. Blade huffs.

“I was thinking,” he mutters.

“I didn’t know you could do that, but could it wait? We still have work to do. First things first, you’re covered in blood, and I have no interest in knowing whose it is, but you should clean it,” Kafka mentions. Blade doesn’t need to look to know it’s his own.

His expression becomes grim at the glaring reminder of what he is: immortal with a monstrous healing ability. More importantly, he’s unable to die.

Blade has become considerably inhuman. Healing salves and medicine are things of the past to him. No longer does he need careful hands to clean his wounds— he just allows them to scar over these days.

Distantly, he can hear your voice echoing in his mind, scolding him for not taking care of himself— insisting that he had to clean his injuries lest they scar over.

But he sees no point. If it isn’t the familiar warmth of his lover, he doesn’t want any sort of first aid or assistance.

Perhaps, each scar is a manifestation of the monster he’s become. Maybe it’s merely his way of punishing himself. Either way, he cares little about it. He thinks it’s counterproductive to ponder about these sorts of things. Thoughts seldom bring back the dead.

“There you go again, lost in your head,” Kafka complains, crossing her arms. “At least enlighten me. You remember parts of your past, don’t you? Care to share with the class?”

Blade remains silent, causing Kafka to laugh a bit.

“Come on. There must be a reason that you’re gloomy and pissed all the time in private. You only have that aggressive ferocity when it has to do with your revenge. Otherwise, you’re practically a husk. So? What’s your story?” she asks with a smirk. He looks away, expression remaining a blank slate.

Such things aren’t her business. Those memories would remain untouched.

“Beyond my need and targets for vengeance, I don’t remember anything,” he claims in a monotonous tone. Clearly, it’s convincing enough for Kafka because she quickly continues with her own train of thought.

“Well, I’ve heard through the grapevine that you used to be less… bland. You used to be cheerful, apparently. I can’t imagine it, personally, much less what could’ve happened to change you into the polar opposite. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was just a rumor,” Kafka muses.

“I can hardly believe it. It’s likely just a baseless rumor,” Blade expresses, though deep down his chest tightens. Reminded of your expression, he knows that there indeed exists a time where he could truly consider himself happy.

All of it is so far in the past that he hardly remembers how it feels— true joy. He’s familiar with the burning sensation rage brought, and the slight satisfaction of getting the upper hand— but happiness?

Much like his former self, it’s a concept that’s become foreign to him.

Despite how he may feel about that, it’s unimportant. The joy of his past is insignificant in the face of the tragedy of your passing and his “prosperity.”

Nothing can change the fact that you’re gone and he, by some curse, isn’t.

Above all else, revenge on your behalf is Blade’s top priority.

He still needs to pay for taking everything away from him.

For cursing him with his current disposition.

Initially, Blade— Ren is naive to just how awful a curse immortality is.

On the brink of a premature death, he lies near motionless in Imbibitor Lunae’s arms, vision blurring in and out of focus. Breathing is painful, yet his body is numb.

He rasps out your name, wishing only to see your face in his final moments— wishing that he had more time with you.

It’s too soon— I need more time, he thinks to himself.

I don’t want to die.

Perhaps, Imbibitor Lunae can hear these thoughts of his, or perhaps, driven by his own desires, refuses to allow Ren to die.

Before he knows it, it feels as if a new life is being breathed into him, his body rapidly healing, taking in a sharp inhale as his vision clears and his body repairs itself.

With wide eyes, he looks to the Vidyadhara, communicating all of his thoughts through a single expression.

Fear.

“I’m… healed..? I feel different… you…” Ren trails off. The other does not speak, and the silence is the answer he needs.

He says nothing. Because that day, he is allowed to return home to you and your loving warmth. Ren fools himself into believing that, perhaps, immortality is a blessing in certain circumstances.

Wrapped up in your arms once more, he actually believes himself to be lucky to have immortality bestowed upon him.

However, just as quick as Lunae made the decision to breathe immortality into him, he’s reminded of why immortality is nothing but a curse of abundance.

Ren finds himself coming to believe that he would’ve been better off dying and awaiting your arrival in the afterlife. Though he would’ve broken his promise to live and die by your side, you both would’ve been better off.

You both would’ve been happier.

Instead, he’s forced to watch you slowly crumble with age. Strangely, you never visually grow any older, but he can see the way your body slows— the pain you’re in.

Jing Yuan, Lunae, and himself are forced to watch as your cheery disposition mellows out as you grow older, unable to run around and gather herbs as you once did, hardly able to keep fighting alongside everyone else anymore.

Despite that, you still dutifully mend his wounds. You make no comment on his immortality or the pace at which he healed— you never did since finding out about it. Whether it’s for his sake or yours, he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know if you detest him for it.

With time, your mellowness becomes weakness until you can only be out for a couple of hours at a time— bedbound when your body no longer allows for activity.

Your outlook is grim. Ren knows this just as well as his close confidants do, but he never leaves your side. His love for you never wavers.

Just as you did for him in your younger years, he cares for you dutifully. The man makes your meals, mixes your medicine, entertains you— anything you need.

Though you both remain the perfect picture of your younger selves, your body is breaking down while Ren remains as he did the day he was granted immortality.

Desperately, Ren attempts to ignore your incoming demise— trying to push down his pain when he sees you become more and more tired, the color of your eyes dulling with each passing day— the only physical sign that you’re nearing your end.

Before he knows it, before he’s ready, that fateful day arrives.

Ren is forced to leave your side to tend to his duties. As much as he doesn’t want to, he has to go, hardly able to bring himself to walk away, let alone bid farewell, even if it’s temporary.

“Leaving…? When will you be back?” you ask in a gentle voice, the warmth never leaving your tone no matter how weak you’ve become. Ren smiles softly, trying to save face as he runs his fingers through your hair.

“By nightfall. I’ll be back by your side before you know it,” he promises. There’s an expression in your eyes that he can’t quite place, but you speak before he can acknowledge it.

“Ah… but it always feels so long for me,” you mention with a light laugh. The sentence holds an unspoken weight, acknowledging the vast differences in your lifespans. Ren has to hold back tears as he leans down and kisses your forehead.

“Either way, I’ll be back today. I won’t keep you waiting,” he says, pulling away. Ren glances over at the door where Imbibitor Lunae and Jing Yuan stand, soon forcing himself from your side and walking over.

“They’ll be okay,” Jing Yuan states, a silent oath to watch over you visible in his determined expression. Ren nods, preparing to leave before you call out.

“Ren?”

He looks back at you.

“Yes? What is it? Is something wrong?” he asks. You pause, searching his expression.

“If something happens… Promise you’ll find your way back to me,” you say. Ren’s heart tightens at the fragility in your gaze— the worry in your tone. Forcing another smile, he hopes to reassure you.

“Nothing will happen to me. I promise. I’ll return to you,” he swears. For a moment, you seem like you have something else to say, but bite your tongue. Instead, you nod, regarding him with a saddened yet adoring expression.

“If you insist. Goodbye, Ren. I love you,” you say.

“See you again, my love. I love you too,” he responds and walks out the door.

The day passes and upon his return, he wishes that he’d never left in the first place.

“They’re gone, Ren. I walked away for just a moment and they left,” Jing Yuan insists.

“It can’t be that simple! They have to be around here somewhere— we have to find them!” Ren insists in a panic, about to dash out the door.

This time, Lunae stops him with a firm grip of his shoulder.

“They’re no longer with us. It’s been hours since their disappearance. Jing Yuan already searched tirelessly and fruitlessly,” the Vidyadhara reminds him. Ren wants to retaliate— he desperately wants to insist that you must be out there, but Jing Yuan interrupts him before he can start.

“I had a feeling. They said goodbye to you, Ren. They knew. I don’t think they wanted us to see them like that. They didn’t want us to remember them in… this state,” Jing Yuan explains, a grim expression on his face as he glances over at the empty bed. Ren feels his heart shatter, tearing himself away from the two.

“No! I have to see it for myself!” he insists angrily, running off in hopes that you’d be out collecting herbs like you always did— hoping that you’d return to him with a loving smile.

Ren never found you.

Years passed, and aside from tales written in stories and memories, it was as if you never existed.

No matter how hard he looked, he never found you, dead or alive.

As time continued on without you, his resentment grew as grief shattered his mind. Ren learned the true pain of being immortal— living knowing that all he’d ever loved had departed from this world.

Ren will never meet you in the afterlife. And you will never return.

This fact causes him to bury his memories beneath vengeance and fury— his mind set on delivering karmic debt to those who caused this predicament. Cutting himself off from who he used to be, he wanders— an unnamed whose existence becomes bathed in blood.

He’s desperate to die— to meet you once more, but he'll be unable to face you if he doesn’t drag those who caused this down with him. Immortality is a sin, but more so is the centuries he’s been keeping you waiting in the netherworld.

It is then that he meets Kafka and Destiny’s Slave, Elio.

While unable to return you to him, they provide the promise of death in return for his cooperation.

Thus, “Blade” was born, now enacting his plans for vengeance in hopes that at the end of it all,

He’ll be freed from this curse, finally able to reunite with you in death.

Firm in his resolve, he turns towards Kafka once more, having become clearly disinterested given the way he continuously ignored her.

“We shouldn’t idle around. Let’s go,” Blade states, eyes alight with passionate fury once more.

Aboard another section of the Xianzhou Luofu, a lone Vidyadhara stares curiously at a pair of wanted posters newly plastered on the bulletin.

Eyes trained on the male, you feel your heart tighten, a strange feeling of longing filling your chest.

“Blade… Blade…?” The name feels foreign on your tongue, but the face of this man is anything but. A single tear rolls down your face, causing you to reach up, wiping it away with slight confusion.

“Why am I…?” your voice trails off as you look back at the photo. It all feels so familiar, but you’re unable to place it. It’s disheartening.

“Hey! There you are!” a young voice calls out. You turn around, smiling as a young swordsman prances up to you.

“My apologies, I didn’t know you were looking for me,” you say softly. Yanqing hums.

“Not me, the General. The Healer Lady finished your medicine and she wants to see you aga— are you okay? Were you crying?” he asks worriedly, concern etched into his features. You laugh lightly and glance back at the poster. Yanqing’s eyes follow your gaze and he has to hold back a gasp upon realizing what you were looking at.

“It’s nothing. This man just seems… familiar to me. It’s been so long and everything is still so foggy to me… I wonder if he’s from my previous incarnation, but I cannot be certain,” you explain, clearly distressed. Yanqing gently grabs your hand, leading you forward.

“W-Well! Lady Bailu always says you shouldn’t force it, so let’s get going. You can talk with her about it. I’m sure she’ll give you much more insight than I could,” he chimes. You smile, nodding in agreement.

“That’s true. Bailu is far more familiar with this than I am despite reincarnating much more recently than I. I’m grateful to have been in her care. Oh, and of course, I’m plenty grateful that the General has been caring for me now, as well,” you hum, allowing the boy to drag you off to the Seat of Divine Foresight.

Upon your arrival, the General glances over with a fond smile. This man also seems very familiar to you, but as Yanqing mentioned, forcing memories of your past is unwise. Without having anyone who knew your last incarnate, you just had to wait. If they return, they would do so naturally.

“General! I found them,” the boy called out. Jing Yuan nods.

“Welcome back. How was your stroll?” he asks kindly. You walk over, offering a warm expression.

“It was lovely. Though I can’t journey out behind the Exalting Sanctum, I still enjoy the scenery,” you express. Jing Yuan chuckles.

“I'm glad you don’t mind the restriction. It’s for safety purposes. Of course, I’m sure your work with Bailu will allow you more freedom. It’d just be better if you didn’t venture out without an escort,” Jing Yuan explains, watching as you acknowledge his statement with a smile.

“I know, and I understand why. Ah, Lady Bailu is waiting for me, right? She’s checking up on me, then I have to tend to my duties with her,” you mention. The General nods.

“She’ll be here shortly. While I still have you here, have any new memories come through?” he asks curiously, a slight glimmer of hope in his eyes. You look away, that painful feeling returning once more.

“Yes, but… it’s… that man in the wanted posters. He looks so familiar to me, but the name doesn’t feel right,” you murmur before offering a wry smile. “Perhaps he just reminds me of someone I once knew? I’m not certain, but it’s something.”

Jing Yuan remains silent for a moment before brushing it off quickly before you notice. With a sympathetic smile, he walks over and places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Even so, it’s a step closer towards remembering. Now, why don’t you await Bailu’s arrival outside? I have a few matters I need to discuss with Yanqing,” the General says. You glance between the two before bowing politely.

“Of course. I’ll see you two later. Yanqing. Stop by later so I can replace the bandage on your face. If you don’t keep it clean, it’ll scar,” you chide lightly. Yanqing pouts a bit at your insistence but agrees nonetheless.

“I will! See you later!” he chimes. You wave at the pair before exiting the hall. Soon after you leave, the young boy’s expression falls, looking over at the General.

“I know Blade is evil, but… is this really right, General? Keeping their memories from them and hiding their existence from him seems…” Yanqing trails off. Jing Yuan releases a deep exhale.

Truthfully, your return had come as a shock to him as well. Just as Ren did, he firmly believed you were a human.

Imagine his shock when you returned, not as a human, but a Vidyadhara. It was then that he learned that, like Imbibitor Lunae, your horns and tail would appear at your will, and your ears were far less pointy than your draconic counterparts.

When you had disappeared that day, you had done so to properly reincarnate once more. However, he only managed to find you now in your young adult years after seeing you work alongside Bailu.

Since that day, he’d been keeping his promise from ages ago to watch over you and keep you safe. All of it was an easy feat given that you trusted him rather quickly, likely due to an inherent familiarity you had toward him.

You couldn’t remember who he was, those memories buried deep within your consciousness, given that you’d spent years on your own, mind foggy and memories shattered.

While he’s certain that it’s but a matter of time until your memories return, he sincerely hopes it won’t be anytime soon.

Keeping you hidden away from the public eye is difficult enough as is. If you remember, he’ll have no choice but to respect your wishes, no matter what they may be.

Turning towards Yanqing, Jing Yuan gives him a stern gaze.

“Yangqing. It goes beyond the comfort of knowing. If I told Re— Blade, he’d want to remain by their side,” he starts and his expression becomes grim. “Tell me. As he is now, an IPC fugitive and a Stellaron Hunter, do you think Blade could provide them with the life they deserve, or the stability they need?”

Yanqing quiets momentarily before speaking up again, “But..! Back then, you always told me they were so close— that Blade is this way because he lost them. Maybe if he at least knew…”

Jing Yuan sighs. He cannot fault the naivety of a child, let alone the pure hopefulness in his expression, but he has to explain it properly lest the boy do something rash.

“If he knew, he’d stop at nothing to be with them. Right now, he longs for death solely to be reunited with them. Blade has long since abandoned the righteous path. While I cannot fault him for it, I also don’t doubt that he’d burn down the entire Luofu if it meant returning with them,” the General explained. Quickly noticing Yanqing’s saddened expression, he ruffles his hair playfully.

“It’s better this way. I promise you that,” he assures. The young swordsman sighs.

“I know but it’s all so sad! They saw his picture and started crying. I didn’t know what to do…”

“Well, they’ll learn the truth someday. All we can do is keep them safe until then. When the time comes, they’ll make their own decision of what to do with the burden of their past.”

Yanqing frowns. “It seems cruel to have to make that choice. I wish they didn’t have to…”

Jing Yuan hums in agreement, but allows the conversation to taper off, leaving them in silence.

Perhaps, there exists a timeline where neither of you were cursed with immortality— a world where, back in those lighter days, the two of you lived and died together.

However, it seems that the Aeons had other plans for you two. The General considers himself lucky to have been saved from such a tragedy.

After all, Jing Yuan is certain that you and Blade are soulmates. No amount of pain or suffering will change that.

What he’s clueless about is if, or rather, when your memories return to you and you recall the way your soul was once intertwined with Ren’s,

Would you allow it to remain but a distant memory, something to be left to the times of your past? Or…

Would you stray away from the proper path to return to Blade’s side?

Only time can tell, and that time, he knows, is fast approaching.

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #honkai blade #hsr blade #blade hsr #honkai blade x reader #hsr blade x reader #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x reader #hsr fic #hsr fanfic #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail fic #hsr angst #honkai star rail angst #cross posted on ao3 #ao3 crosspost #kaori-writes

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sunnybeewriting · 1 year

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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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j0kers-light · 9 months

Note

Joker, but with a virgin reader who barely understands sex stuff cuz they grew up overly sheltered and innocent, so he essentially has to teach them through it and introduce some kinky stuff to them

His Lighthouse: Sweet Girl (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Sweet Girl - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A STORY UPDATE!

Author’s note:

Hey hi anon!! I am so sorry it took me an entire week to fill this request! I got carried away and went down a perfectionist spiral trying to envision Joker in this situation. It was difficult to keep him in character but still caring enough for Y/n who is virtually clueless! I hope you enjoy the story!

You can find part two here!!

taglist:

@blackreaderatrisk @twinkledinkle @clemdango04 @l3ejm @tears-of-amber @what-an-angel @darthjokerisyourfather @thatsnoteii @dollster @cheetahspy @kaidennnnn @urdariingdoll @motivation-idontknowher

Let me know if you want to be added to the His Lighthouse taglist!

You are truly his sweet girl in every definition of the word.

Joker's sweet little doll he so desperately wants to defile. He greatly admires your innocence and the way you view the world. Joker wants nothing more than to continue sheltering you, but he's at his wit's end holding back his passion.

Everyday his patience wanes and it's only a matter of time before he pounces on his prey. You.

He wants to sink his teeth into your skin and hear you cry out in pleasure with every snap of his hips. He wants to see your brain turn off from an overload of pleasure. It's not a want anymore but a need. He needs to break you.

He can't wait anymore and judging by your coy smiles and teasing touches, he knows you want this too.

Although Joker should've known something was wrong since things between you and him never advanced any further than kissing. You would shy away the minute he grabbed your hips or tried to remove any article of clothing from you.

He should have noticed the telltale signs.

Months of hiding at your place in your pink little bubble, far far away from mean old Gotham City, and all that Joker had to show for as process with you was cuddling or making out.

Nothing more, nothing less. It was frustrating for sure.

Joker knew you were attracted to him; he saw it in the way your eyes widened and lingered on him.

You would bite your lip whenever he purposefully let his shirt ride up or whenever he picked you up to show off his strength. He even came out of the shower dripping wet without a towel once— you tucked tail and ran to your room.

Joker was using every trick in the book to get a reaction from you, however; you stayed demure and kept your hands to yourself. It was maddening!

Even at night when the two of you were preparing for bed, (separately, much to his irritation) he'd pull you close and rock his hips into yours.

"Wanna sleep with meee tonight, baby doll?" You would flush red and wiggle out of his arms before stampering out a million no's and vanish from sight.

Joker hated hearing your door slam close but what could he do? He was running out of options.

There were so many clues in front of him regarding this dilemma but the truth finally came to light one day he had you trapped underneath him on the bed.

No more running. No more excuses. He was claiming you tonight.

He was attacking your neck with kisses and actively grinding his hard on into your pretty shorts. The skimpy things you wore around the house tested his limited sanity! Were you trying to seduce him? Bravo, because you succeeded. And he was supposed to be impervious to your charms and be a gentleman. Screw that.

Your body was a prize to be had and Joker waited long enough to have it.

He had the helm of your shirt balled up to your abdomen when you froze. "W-Wait um Joker. I-I.."

"Shhhh little bunny.. I just wanna see ya."

You didn't like that and tried pushing Joker up and off. How did he get you on the bed in the first place you wondered?

Joker noticed your aversion to his touch and growled in annoyance. Every freaking time he tried to get closer with you; you pushed him away. He had enough. He no longer had any patience to deal with this anymore.

"What's the deal, hmm? You don't li-ke me anymore?"

Your eyes immediately locked with his. "N-No! I like you.. it's just..." You wavered.

"Just whaT? Hmm? Tell me bunny! Open that pretty... little mouth of yours and tell me."

You did the exact opposite. You bit your lip and looked away from Joker. Your selective shyness was rather annoying at this point and Joker let his frustrations be known.

"You're such a cocktease ya know that? Runnin' around in these shorts and things making those little... noises when ya think I don't notice. Yeah, I hear em doll. You're killing me but the second I touch ya, this happens!" Joker gestured at you cowering away from him.

"What are ya, some virgin or something?" He sighed to himself. But then he looked down at you in shock when he heard your soft yes.

Oh. He was a f___king idiot.

You were holding back tears and the second Joker realized his mistake and touched your arm, they burst to the surface.

"Ohhh.. Bunny noo. Look at me." You did and shined your e/c at him. "There she is.. my sweet girl. Why didn't you tell me?"

He lied back on the bed and dragged you with him to recline on his chest. You were perfectly fine cuddling with J. Anything else after that was scary.

He couldn't see your face since it was buried in his shirt so you answered him truthfully.

"I.. I thought you knew.." You mumbled. Joker smacked his lips and started stroking your hair. You left it down today and he loved its wild, untamed state.

He really didn't know and he felt stupid for not realizing it sooner and for making you feel uncomfortable around him. He worked so hard in the beginning to make you not fear him. He didn't exaggerate his words as much, he cut down on his fear tactics around you, virtually everything about himself was altered to gain your trust.

You were a timid little thing, eager to help him hide from the GCPD in exchange for nothing. You cooked, cleaned, kept him company (just not sexually) all with a smile on your face. You were so naïve yet brave, of course Joker fell for you!

You laughed at his silly jokes and that smile of yours was worth losing pieces of himself to appease you. He'd do anything to make you happy.

But Joker wanted more. He wanted to be selfish.

He wanted to corrupt your sweet and innocent demeanor and mold it to his will. He wanted those big doe eyes of yours to cloud over with lust and your full plump lips to stretch around his cock as he choked you with it.

He knew you'd be perfect underneath him; you were already such a sweet thing. A true people pleaser; doing any and everything to make his stay at your place more enjoyable.

What he would really enjoy is your pussy milking his cock for what it's worth.

It's all he thought about these days but you couldn't handle him removing your shirt, how in the world would he train you to be his cum-drunk bunny?

But Joker loved a challenge and you... you were worth the hassle.

"I never wanna scare my bunny away. She's so perfect, and oh so sweet. Too sweet.." He kissed you so softly, it made your head spin.

Joker pulled back before things started to get heavy, "But I realllly wanna taste ya more, Y/n. You trust me?"

You looked down and away until Joker chased after you. "No no nooo. None of that. Don't look away. I can teach you if you want."

"Teach me? But what if... What if I'm not good enough?" You whimpered.

That's what you were worried about? He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This was all in your head.

"Won't know until you try." He sang back. You seemed to understand that much and shifted your weight to straddle Joker more properly. He exhaled through his nose when you unknowingly rocked your hips into his dick.

"Okay. I think I wanna try now. Is that okay? C-Can we try right now, J?"

How could he say no to such a sweet request? You were so embarrassed yet enthusiastic about this, it made him go crazy. He kept his hands behind his head and sighed.

"Depends... How far ya wanna go?" He asked.

"What do you mean? How far with what?"

It took everything in Joker not to groan in frustration. Did your parents not teach you anything about sex? What kind of upbringing did you have to not know anything?

Joker wasn't sure if he could handle teaching you from scratch but everyone had to start somewhere.

"What do ya know about sex, Y/n?"

He watched you squirm and bite your lip. You had to know something to be interested and he would wait to see what he was working with before going further.

"Um.. the doctor at the clinic said it shouldn't h-hurt if my partner um.. p-preps me enough with foreplay. I think that means kissing and cuddling but once she brought out two dolls and started talking about positions I.. she lost me."

Joker was lost too. "Doctor?"

You nodded and wiggled your hips against him. You seriously had to stop doing that..

"I went to get checked after I saw you come out of the shower that day. I got really wet and uncomfortable um, d-down there, and nothing I did made the feeling go away. S-So I panicked and went to the clinic! It was super embarrassing but I think I understand the logistics of it all a little better. Joker? Are you okay?"

You poked his cheek since he looked spaced out and he had every right to be.

Horny. You were horny and didn't know why. Nothing you did made the feeling go away and he remembered back to that night when you trapped yourself in your room.

Just what all did you try? Did you get yourself off? How did you do it?

And then everything clicked. Your lingering eyes, the tiny shorts and flimsy tops. Those f__king thigh high socks... You started wearing them more and more frequently after his little shower stunt. Your body wanted him even if your brain didn't comprehend.

He was gonna have so much fun corrupting you.

In the blink of an eye, Joker had you flat on your back with your arms above your head. You were in shock, it happened so fast.

Joker let out a shaky exhale and looked you over.

"Next time you feel wet, come to me. I'll help.. relieve that pain, mkay? Do you feel wet now?" He asked as he grinded his knee into your sex. You jerked in his hold and winced.

"Um, a little.. that feels funny."

"Describe it to me." Joker purred into your ear. He trailed kisses down your neck to distract you from noticing he was lifting your top up.

Stupid thing wasn't covering anything, it was so thin.

"Ah! I-I feel warm and.. it aches.. but I don't know why. It's almost like there's an itch I need to scratch but I tried that!"

Joker had the brief image of your tiny hands poking and prodding your opening, trying desperately to soothe something only his cock could reach.

"Poor little bunny. Wanna know why it aches mmh?"

He heard you sigh out a yes. By then Joker was kissing your heaving chest and had an idea. Why remove your top the boring way? Nothing about tonight would be normal.

You gasped as Joker tore your top right off your body. Your breasts bounced from the action and Joker groaned seeing them already erect sans a bra. Just the perfect size for him to squeeze and worship. He was drooling already.

He locked eyes with you with a wolfish smile. "Cuz your greedy little pussy wants my cock.

"Y-Your cock?"

Joker groaned and leaned down to suck a nipple into his mouth while his hand got well acquainted with the other. It was so soft and tasted even better, but hearing your surprised moans was the topping on the cake.

You didn't know your breasts could feel so good but Joker's tongue swirling around the bud before his teeth bit it gently, was electrifying. It made the unknown feeling return tenfold.

"J-Joker! It's back! I feel weird again.."

Joker let your nipple go with a loud pop and gave the same attention to its twin but not without subtly rocking his hips into yours. Your wail was torturous.

"No! T-That's not it!" You sobbed even though your hips bucked up to meet Joker's. Something about the motion felt right, but it was missing a key element. Then you remembered Joker's comment.

"Can your umm.. cock fix it?"Joker groaned in pain. You would be the death of him. As if hearing you speak about it, his dick throbbed in his pants.

He looked up at your adorable pout and smiled. "Already using such ahh, vulgar language, baby doll. Goood girl. I knew your mouth was dirty."

He kissed down your stomach until he reached the band of your shorts. You braced your weight on your elbows to watch him. How was your mouth dirty? Did you say something bad?

Never mind that, Joker was finally addressing the problem dead on. "Are you gonna fix it, J?"

He looked up at you, a bit out of breath.

"I will bunny, just not yeT. The doc said I gotta prep you, remember? Don't wanna hurt my sweet girl now do I? Gotta hmm.. tr-eat her right.. Can I take these off?"

He asked so nicely, you couldn't say no. Anything to make this weird feeling go away, you'd do it.

You lifted your hips enough for Joker to slide your shorts and panties off in one fell swoop. Of course you didn't see him pocket said panties for safe keeping, but you quickly grew uncomfortable with the way he stared at your private parts.

Did it look weird? What if he didn't like it? You most certainly didn't. Any personal care was done as quickly as possible to avoid any unnecessary glimpses and you never looked at yourself the way Joker was right now.

He had yet to say anything but his unwavering gaze was starting to scare you. Did he have to stare for so long?

You whimpered and tried to cover your sex but Joker merely slapped your hand away.

"Stop looking at me..." You whined. That finally got Joker to meet your eye.

"Why not Y/n? Every part of you is sooo pretty. I wanna taste it..."

Before you could question the legitimacy behind his words, Joker licked your pussy with a guttural groan. The vibrations it left felt so good, you didn't realize you grabbed a hold of his hair. Joker didn't mind and quickly forgot about you being a virgin as he ate you out like a man on a mission.

"Soooooo sweet.. an' juicy.." He said in between licks.

Joker tuned out your startled babbles and pleas to savor the unique taste of your pussy. Your juices fell on his tongue like ambrosia and he lapped up every last drop that you steadily produced with gusto.

It was an honor to be the first to taste you and Joker pulled out everything in his bag of tricks to take you to the summit. Your first orgasm. F__k he wanted it all for himself.

He flicked his tongue over your clit and ever so gently slid his middle finger inside your cunt.

"Joker!" You screamed.

He chuckled as he eased it in up to his knuckle but met resistance. "Hush now baby doll. I gotta get ya loosened up to take something muchhh bigger than this..."

Something bigger? Your mind couldn't even fathom the thought. You writhed on his finger in a newfound agony until another sharp pain made you gasp.

Joker shushed you and kissed your clit as another finger slid its way into your tight hole. You were doing so well all things considered. Joker let endless praises fall from his lips in between kissing and sucking on your pussy. You seemed to unknowingly enjoy praise, if the fresh flow of juices from your slit were any indication. Joker twisted his wrist so his two fingers slid in deeper to scissor your hole wider. You were welcoming the foreign invasion but he could feel the restraint still lying dormant within you.

With every pump of his fingers, he made sure to stretch them just a bit deeper and a lot wider to further his goal. After a while, you relaxed around his two fingers and seemed to enjoy the new sensation he introduced to you.

He added a third finger even as you whimpered in protest.

"Shhh, you need thissss." Joker angled his fingers in a come hither motion to stroke your g spot directly. You jerked in shock and clamped down on his fingers.

"R-Right there, J..ahh yessss.."

Joker grinned when you practically melted to his touch. That 'itch' you kept going on about was finally being attended to. This is what you craved all along.

But something was happening. A pressure you never felt before was building and you knew it wasn't good.

"J-J..ok— ahh! I feel.. weird. I think I'm mmhph!! I don't wanna.." You cried out.

Joker saw your thighs twitching and grinned. He wondered when you'd get close. "Let it go Bunny. It's okay."

Joker's deep voice urged you on, where exactly— you were unsure of, but he was more knowledgeable than you here. Even though your brain protested the feeling, since the rising pressure resembled that of using the bathroom, you let your body's natural instinct take control.

"Listen to your body, Princess. She knows what's best."

You nodded at Joker's vague words and let the feeling build more and more. You felt hot all over and dizzy yet Joker would not stop until you crumbled completely under pressure.

He kept your thighs spread open and grinned like a certified madman as he sped up his fingers, pumping into your hole until it audibly gushed out. Almost there..

Something was happening within your body that you couldn't comprehend. Your ears were ringing and tears streamed down your face as a white hot coil snapped just underneath your navel.

You felt like passing out, it was so intense yet you moaned as waves of pleasure washed over you.

And Joker drank everything you gave. He watched you die and come back anew right before his eyes and it was such a sight to behold.

You came back shivering and weak but had enough strength to pose the question. "W-what just h-happened?"

Joker left a lasting kiss on your clit before he crawled up your body. It was flush with a sheen of sweat and desire and he showered every inch of it with affection on his travels.

"Did ya enjoy your first orgasm?" He mumbled on your shoulder. "I sure did."

"O-Orgasm? So... I didn't pee?"

Gosh you were so cute, he wanted to ruin you so bad. "Mmhm. NoT quite. You came so hard for meeee. And ya taste so good too, see?"

Joker kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, although he laughed when you jerked back in disgust.

"That's not sweet! More like tangy and salty! Eww.. and you like that?" You said while wiping your mouth clean. You were still convinced you relieved yourself, however the texture was more creamier than liquid that told you otherwise.

"I do. Very. Very. Much." To prove his point, he licked his fingers clean of you while you watched in intrigue. It got you thinking..

"Umm, w-what do you taste like J?"

Joker died then and there. You asked him so casually, was he corrupting you too fast? Of course not. You blinked owlishly at Joker waiting for a response. All he could do was chuckle under his breath.

"I'll let ya have a uhh, taste another day Bunny. Right now, f__k, I gotta.. I need to be inside this pussy. Are ya still itchy?"

You blinked twice before nodding your head.

Whatever Joker did just then was amazing but it wasn't enough to quell the unknown feeling between your legs. You still couldn't form the right words to explain the sensation though. Maybe you could ask Joker about it later. Right now, your fears were bubbling up to the surface as he towered over you.

"You'll be gentle right? It won't hurt?"

Joker sighed before kissing you soundly. He then reached a hand down to check your entrance. You were still wet and you moaned into Joker's mouth at the soothing circles he left on your sensitive bud. "Mmm it shouldn't, Bunny."

Joker stopped rubbing your clit so he could remove his shirt and pants. You watched in awe as his body was revealed to you. Sure you saw glimpses of it here and there but fully bare before you now, Joker was stunning.

How did you get so lucky?

"There's no need to be shy, Y/n." Joker cooed at you.

He noticed you were still hesitant and moved your hands to his chest for you. Seeing your hands on him.. it was a step in the right direction. He couldn't wait to see them wrapped around his cock.

Baby steps though. Today was your first time but if he played his cards right.... Why not go big rather than go home?

With Joker's permission, you caressed the hard planes of his chest and abs, wondering what the large indentation in his briefs was. The second your hand brushed against it, Joker hissed and grabbed your wrist.

Your eyes flickered up to his deep jade in awe.

"Easy there, bunny." He shivered. You tilted your head to the side in wonder until Joker let his cock spring out from his underwear. Your face was priceless.

"I take it, it's ya first time seeing one?"

You subconsciously clenched around nothing and nodded listlessly. Joker snorted and decided to let you explore uncharted territory. You know, get a little bit of hands-on training.

"Go on. Touch iT." Joker whispered in your ear as he guided your hands around his dick. He stifled his groans as your timid touch groped his shaft. J was soft yet hard at the same time and you paled at the thought of it in you.

If his fingers almost made you faint, what would this do? It felt powerful and ominous in your hands and oddly hot to the touch. Veins ran up the length of it and when you looked closer, a clear bead of liquid was oozing out the top. For some unknown reason you wanted to lick it up but second guessed yourself at the last minute.

"Is this.. going inside m-me? J, I don't think..."

"Yes it will." You wondered how Joker knew your exact thought, "I'll make it fit and you'll take every.. last.. inch. Under-stand?"

You jerked your head in a nod and it seemed to satisfy Joker since he nodded back. With that out of the way, Joker let you acquaint yourself with his dick until he grew impatient and batted your hands away. Any more stimuli and he would've cum prematurely.

He couldn't finish before the deflowering party got started. But he didn't calculate the way you were driving him nuts.

"Look at me Y/n. That, uhh, ache you have right here." Joker rubbed your womb affectionately before tipping your chin up with his fingers.

You were on your knees before him, patiently waiting for anything he would give.

"Your mind is still unsure but your body... mmmm, your body knows what it wants. Keep listening to your body, mkay? It's gonna be reallllly scary, and I. Won't. Stop. either, but you have to trust me bunny. Trust that I'm doing this to.. make you feel good. I'm going to ruin your pussy and there's nothing you can do about iT."

Your bottom lip trembled in fear but you nodded at Joker. He wouldn't deliberately hurt you.. right?

"O-Okay.. I trust you." Joker's smile was absolutely feral hearing you surrender to him so easily. You'd regret that later.

"That'sss my sweet girl. So! You're all wet and horny and need to be filled? So achy and needy? I'll help ya.."

Out of the blue Joker pushed you down on the bed and you yelped at the sudden shift in the air. "J? What're.."

"ShuT. Up. You deserve someone who will treat ya right. Mmm, should've picked someone else then. Lemme break you Princess, open up for me."

You didn't like where this was going but Joker did say to trust him. It was going to be scary but you had to trust him. Didn't mean you had to like it. You didn't want him breaking anything of yours!

Before you could turn your head away, Joker already grabbed a hold of it.

"Look at me! I said... spread your legs slut."

If Joker didn't see your pussy glistening with cum, he would have dialed things back but surprise surprise, his little virgin liked being dominated. You liked his meaner side even if your brain couldn't wrap itself around the idea. Joker was over the moon discovering your kinks way before you did.

He watched in glee as you parted your thighs for him. Your pretty folds were glistening like the delicate flower it was. Joker repeatedly slapped his dick on your puffy lips and you jumped in shock with each unexpected smack.

Even if you could squirm away, Joker would just drag you back. With one hand keeping your face towards him, he used the other to prod his cock in your slick juices.

You were so wet, he almost slipped inside with no resistance. He let you coat his dick completely and hissed at the warmth beckoning him in.

"Don't... look... away. Here we go. Ahh s__t, oh shhh shh Y/n, I know. I-I know it hurts and that.. Heh, that's just the tip.."

You were a panting mess. It felt like you were being split apart and he barely had the tip inside? This wasn't what you signed up for! "Joker, wait!!"

He muffled your cries with a kiss and bullied his way deeper inside of your tight walls, one agonizing inch at a time. You clawed at his forearm that was holding your face and wept at the sting his cock left behind.

It wasn't supposed to hurt yet it felt good at the same time. You couldn't decide which sensation overpowered the other, but right when you thought you couldn't take anymore, Joker bottomed out inside of you— groaning at your walls gripping him tight as you sobbed uncontrollably around him.

"Ahhh! Please, Joker no more!" You begged. Joker settled in within you, laughing.

"Whaddya mean, Bunny? That's it! Good job for taking me soooo well. You ahh, took it a-all on the first try. Breathe doll. Ya gotta breathe."

Joker groaned as you turned a little blue in the face. His cock was already making you go stupid and he had yet to start thrusting.

He wanted to tease you about it but he wasn't any better as your gummy walls choked the life out of his dick. You felt absolutely sinful wrapped around him. He felt lightheaded from the intense heat your body enveloped him in.

"How does it f-feel to not be a.. mmm.. virgin anymore?"

"F-Full..." You wheezed out.

"Yeah? What if I ahh, take it away?" Joker pulled out, till nothing but the aching tip remained and you cried out, begging him to come back. "I knew it, such a greedy little slut... but today I'll be generous. Here you go."

He thrust into you sharply, making you arch your back and disrupt the grip he had on your face. "Ohh you like it rough, doll?"

Joker grabbed your hips instead and set his knees into the bed. Each word was drilled into your pussy with a powerful, breathtaking thrust. "Good. To. Know."

You couldn't think straight let alone form words from the assault. All that could escape your lips was Joker's shortened name and pornagraphic moans.

You were tossing your head side to side and drooling up a storm. Joker thought it was the prettiest thing in the world. You were a natural.

"And you thoughT you wouldn't be good enough, HA! You're perfect for meeee.. I should've taken you months ago, f__k." Joker didn't care if he was talking too much, you were proving to be too much for him to handle.

Between your tight pussy suffocating his cock, to your breast bouncing in his face, Joker didn't know where to focus his attention.

That is, until you made the decision for him.

You never followed his instructions. He didn't care how hard it was to focus, he wanted to see the moment your brain shut down and floated away. How could he do that if you closed your eyes?

Joker growled and picked up the pace but not before squeezing your throat. "What.. did I tell you? Don't. Look. Away."

He wasn't expecting you to let out an airy giggle in response. You would be his undoing. Smiling as he choked you? It was like you were made for him.

Joker groaned and lost himself, giving it his all to make you feel good. This was your first time after all. He would stop at nothing to make it perfect.

You weren't complaining as you struggled to breathe in between the brutal pace Joker set and with his hand wrapped tightly around your throat.

A while ago, the initial pain of his cock entering your hole morphed into mind numbing pleasure. Now you understood the hype behind sex. Why did your parents and other adults growing up censor this from you?

It was indescribable the way Joker made you feel. You were in fact seeing stars with each cant of his hips. Had you known sex could feel this good sooner, you couldn't even wrap your head around the possibilities your teenage self could have created.

"nny? Bunny? Come back to meeeee. There ya are! Heh, thought I squeezed too tight."

You blinked back the fog to notice Joker had come to a stop inside of you and was doting on you with a slight look of concern in his eyes. It was gone by the time you cleared your throat.

He let go of it during your brief stint in headspace when he saw your eyes roll back.

There was a fine line between breath play and choking. Joker wasn't about to go too far, especially since this was your first time.

He wanted this to be memorable, not kill you. So against his wishes, he stopped to check on you when you became unresponsive.

You were breathing normally again (albeit your eyes were still glazed over) but he proposed a new idea anyway. "Wanna try a different position?"

You stretched your arms out for Joker to grab onto with a meek nod. He chuckled at your innocence on full display.

His sweet girl was a pillow Princess through and through.

Too bad he wanted to corrupt that and everything else about you. You would be a ravenous minx by the end of his teachings, that much he was certain of.

Joker sighed as he left your warmth and drummed up a good position in his head. There were so many he wanted to try with you but one in particular made him grin deviously.

You caught sight of it and gulped down your fear. "J... please be.."

"Nothing about me is gentle doll. Remember thaT. Now, what's a sweet little thing like you owning a big mirror like this hmmm?"

Joker scooped you up from the bed and slammed you face first into the floor length mirror that you had set up in the room.

He loved seeing your shock reflect through the mirror.

"Do ya use it to touch yourself? Can't blame ya if you do. I'd watch this body too.." He fondled your hips and squeezed your breasts as you shook your head in denial.

You watched yourself in the mirror being manhandled at a loss for words.

"N-No! It's not l-like that!" You cried out when Joker yanked your hair back in his strong grip. All you could do was grip the mirror's frame, less you lose your balance.

Joker had you standing on your tippy toes with your head tilted all the way back in order to stare up into his eyes.

"Open your mouth." He ordered.

You did without hesitation but froze when Joker spat right onto your tongue.

"Ahht ahht, swallow. Now." He growled. He didn't care if it was yucky to you, it asserted his dominance over you and he grinned when you teared up but swallowed on command.

He noticed your legs rubbing against each other and knew subconsciously you loved it. That innocent mind of yours was holding you back however.

"It's always the shy ones." Joker chuckled under his breath. In an instant he used your hair to guide you back onto his dick. Your breath was stolen right from you by the unexpected invasion.

"Oh bunnyyyy, you got tighter." He groaned.

He rammed his cock into you at a bruising pace and yanked your hair whenever you tried to look away. Your only option was to lean forward onto the cool mirror and watch as J pounded into you from behind on its surface.

The sight of your nude body being taken in such a way was embarrassing— all flushed and slack jawed, but Joker was right there behind you, whispering how beautiful you were and how lucky he was to take your v card.

Whatever that meant.

What you did know was that Joker was thrusting into you harder than ever and that wondrous feeling from before was fast approaching again. You were unsure how Joker managed to fit his length inside of you yet there was a noticeable bulge in your stomach that you couldn't keep your eyes off of.

Joker followed your gaze through the mirror and relocated one of his hands to rub against it during each snap of his hips. And when he pressed down on it? You sang praises to his name.

"You.. really are stuffed.. fuuc—full of me huh, baby doll? G-Gooood, that's good." He smiled into your skin and picked up the pace, like he wasn't already rattling the mirror and artwork against the wall with every rough thrust.

You were swaying on your feet from the pleasure and it grew the moment Joker rubbed erratic circles on your clit.

You couldn't handle the added stimuli and tried moving his hand away because this time it really felt like you were..

Your undoing completely blindsided you; it was so intense. Your legs shook like a newborn's and you almost fell if not for Joker catching you at the last minute. He was in high spirits, cooing in your ear.

"D__n, Y/n! Goood girl, C'mon.. breathe for me Bunny.. yeah. That was.. heh somethin' else wasn't it? Shhh shhhh easy now.." He ignored the wet mirror dripping with your cum to help you down onto the plush rug at your feet.

You were twitching and pushing Joker away but he fought back and flipped you onto your stomach.

Your legs were still dripping wet from squirting, so your pussy accepted Joker back inside no issue.

That didn't mean your brain was so welcoming. "J.. too much, I-I can't!"

He just positioned your hips into a painful looking arch and drilled your pussy like no tomorrow.

"I. Don't. Care. Bunny. Ahh, you... ohh, youuuu got to cum twice now, selfish little whore. N-Now it's my turn and I'm gonna.. use ya.. like the dirty slut we both know ya are!"

He threw his head back as he slammed your hips back to take his dick over and over. The way your skin rippled with each thrust, the echo of wet skin on skin, your pathetic cries floating in the air; Joker loved every detail.

A quick glance to his right gave him the perfect view of your back arching in the mirror and your tear stained face smushed into the rug.

You were taking his cock with a blissed out smile on your face. Joker truly was a lucky man. Your first time and you were already showing signs of being a perfect cock-slut.

What more could he ask for in a partner?

He'd love exposing you to his most kinkiest desires and treating his touch starved Princess to all of the pleasures known to mankind. By the way your weeping pussy was still throwing it back on him and squeezing his dick so tight, physically you were still in the game.

A shame your mind couldn't keep up.

He laughed at the broken pleas spilling from your lips. Your mind was still a virgin but your body never truly was. This body of yours was begging for his cum.

And he would deliver.

Joker choked on a moan as his release creeped up on him. His hips lost their rhythm and became more primal in the desperate need to cum. Joker reached down and grabbed ahold of your hair to twist your face towards him.

"Now this... ohh shi— tt-this is the ahh, most important part Bunny. Good.. gooood girls get rewarded. T-They get cum deeeeep in their greedy little wombs. You.. you want thaT? You want my cum?" He asked.

You didn't understand a single word but nodded aways. "Yes J, please!"

Joker was too close to mock your eagerness. He was spouting nonsense himself; his head was so mushy.

"I'm gunna give it to ya. You've been such a good little bunny. This'll make ya feel sooo much better, so full n' complete. All m-mine.. you'll take it yeah? Won't you, Y/n?"

Joker had more to say but two thrusts later, he erupted in your pussy, painting it white with no end in sight.

Joker's release triggered one last orgasm from you as his hot cum bathed your walls and sent you down a spiral.

You collapsed and Joker's weight kept you pressed to the floor as he continued to rock his hips into you, unable to stop himself. Both of you struggled to catch a breath but Joker regained his senses first and rolled over onto his side, dragging you with him.

Naturally he was the big spoon and showered you with much needed affection.

You were shivering with aftershocks with a faraway expression on your face. He hummed as he softened inside you and waited until he was coherent enough to check on you.

"Y/n?" He brushed a lock of hair off your shoulder. "You uhhh alright?" Joker turned you around and you clung to him instantly.

He rubbed your back and petted your hair, a complete 180 of the dominant man rearranging your guts just moments prior.

"I wasn't too rough, no? If ya didn't li-ke it or.. uhh, we can try again? More gentler—-"

You cut him off with a kiss.

Joker looked down at you in shock. Your beautiful face was wet with tears but your eyes... those sweet e/c shined so brightly at him in adoration.

"It was p-perfect, J. T-Thank you." You kissed him again and collapsed into his arms when your strength suddenly failed you.

You landed on his chest and left kisses where you could reach. They were weak brushes of your lips, but Joker didn't mind. At least you were okay.

"Mmm, err don't thanK me just yet doll. C'mere." He tipped your head back so the two of you could lock eyes.

"This... was tame compared to what I'll do to ya next time."

Your eyes widened. "N-Next time?"

Joker snickered at your innocent wonder and nodded. Somethings just wouldn't change he guessed.

"Mmhm. There's so much more to learn Y/n.." He tucked a curl of hair behind your ear. You were so pretty in your afterglow, he couldn't even focus on what he was saying.

Joker didn't know how long he was gonna lay low with the authorities but he knew he was staying here with you for a very, very long time.

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