He Stares At You, Eyes Narrowed, Teeth Biting Into His Cigar. Your Brain Screaming That You've Fucked

ミdaddy issues

part one | part two

🍓pairing: recom!miles quaritch x human fem reader

🍓tags: nsfw, interspecies relationship, temporarily one-sided attraction, second-hand embarrassment, vaginal sex, oral sex, (v brief) anal fingering, dirty talk (it's quaritch, come on)

🍓word count: 14k (there's literally nothing i could say to excuse this)

masterlist

Miles Quaritch is the kind of man whose reputation precedes him.

Everyone has heard of him. His ruthlessness and his skill are legendary, his authority absolute. The army guys talk about him like he’s the stuff of myth, the scientists talk about him like he’s the biggest bastard to ever walk the earth. Even before he had returned to life as a recombinant, he was positively infamous. Now though, his return has raised his reputation to near mythological status.

But it’s not just his name and reputation that is known around Bridgehead City. Recently, your crush on him has become equally as infamous.

It’s not your fault. It's not like you’re trying to make it obvious. The man is just so damn fine, blue or not. In the beginning, all you do is appreciate his form from a distance. It’s not like you see him all that often, anyway, so your admiration is mostly contained to quick glances in corridors and across the mess hall, whenever you spot him talking with his squad or walking with any of the higher ups.

 It’s perfectly innocent! There’s nothing wrong with having a little crush on someone that will never notice you, after all.

The problem is that your crush, while innocuous, isn’t exactly subtle.

“Quaritch, huh?” It’s Anjali that asks, an older, pretty microbiologist with a sometimes off-puttingly blunt manner.

You pause, but don’t look up from the microscope you’ve been peering into. For a moment, you consider denying it. But what’s the point? If she’s asking, that means that she’s already noticed your shy, flustered glances in the colonel’s direction.

“Yeah,” You sigh, a little defeated. “I guess.”

Because you’re so focused on the plant specimen you’re studying, you don’t notice the way all the others in the lab start looking over, clearly eavesdropping. If you had, you might have backtracked – maybe you would have downplayed your embarrassing little crush.

“He’s just...” You fiddle with the glass slide beneath the lens, still fighting not to make eye-contact with Anjali. “He’s very handsome, isn’t he?”

Anjali snorts. She’s an older lady, with her grey-streaked hair scraped back into a severe bun, accentuating her harsh appearance. She’s working on her own report one desk over from you, but you can still see the way that she’s peering over her glasses at you.

“Is he?” She asks archly. “I wouldn’t know. I can’t see around his enormous sense of entitlement.”

You laugh a little awkwardly, and duck your head back down. God, you don’t know how else you expected that conversation to go. Everyone knows that Quaritch’s overzealous attempts to exert control over Pandora was what caused the whole war and resulted in the human population being forced off-planet all those years ago. Damn, you know that too! 

But it’s not as though you like him as a person or anything! He’s not even really the same man as the one that did all that. Your fascination with him is really just… aesthetic appreciation.

“I just think he’s attractive, you know?” You mumble, embarrassed. “I don’t know what he was like as a human, but… I don’t know. There’s something about the- the height, and the muscles-”

“Oh, spare me.” Anjali mumbles sourly.

“You asked!” You snap, mortified. “I’m just saying-!”

That’s when another voice cuts in.

“He could break you in half with his pinkie finger.” Dr. Geiszler points out from a desk behind you. He’s not even trying to pretend that he’s not listening in, leaning right over his workspace as he eavesdrops.

Your eyes widen a little, and for the first time you realise that nearly everyone else in the laboratory has been listening in the whole time. Your face grows hot with humiliation, and you shrink a little in your stool. Oh fuck, why did they all look so interested? 

Geiszler watches your reaction, and then his face slackens in an expression of realisation. “Oh shit, you’re into that.”

You genuinely can’t think of anything more humiliating right now. They’re all looking at you as though you’ve just grown an additional head.

“Oh, fuck off!” You say reflexively, scowling at them all. “You can’t pretend like you haven’t ever thought that the Na’vi are sexy!”

Anjali looks as though she’s just sucked on a lemon, but several other scientists start shiftily avoiding eye contact.

Geiszler just snorts. “That’s different. We’re not talking about just any Na’vi here, we’re talking about Quaritch!”

“He’s old enough to be your father.” Anjali points out, clearly disapproving. “Maybe even your grandfather.”

“So?” You say without thinking, before realising that this isn’t really an argument that you want to get into. “I mean- Not in his current body! No, fuck, I don’t mean- fuck. Look, can we just forget about this? Pretend I never said anything!”

Mercifully, they go silent at that, though you can still hear the faint sound of someone snickering in the back of the lab. They may not say anything more, but you’re all too aware that they’re still looking at each other and smirking. Laughing at you. 

You hunch your shoulders and keep doing your work. You wouldn’t feel embarrassed or guilty over something as stupid as a harmless little crush that you can’t control. You wouldn’t.

Bridgehead really isn’t all that big, so you see the colonel semi-regularly. It’s always from a distance, but it’s still enough to give you a good look at those long legs, those big muscles, and that lithe, narrow waist. If you’re truthful with yourself, you go out of your way to organise your paths crossing.

You’re not even a fully-qualified scientist just yet. You don’t actually have an official title – you’re more like an intern. You work under the highly decorated scholars in xenobotany, running tasks and projects for them as part of your doctorate degree. You had been allowed out here to Pandora as part of your degree, in order to get the experience you needed to qualify, and it has treated you well so far. The whole internship position means that you have a little bit more freedom with regards your schedule, which works just perfectly for you.

So, yeah. What started out as innocent admiration has turned a little… stalkery. You’re willing to admit that. But it’s harmless! 

So what if you know Colonel Quaritch’s schedule off by heart? So what if you linger around the areas that you know he frequents at opportune moments, like just after his workouts or drills? It doesn’t really matter if your eyes linger around his big biceps and his sculpted chest, especially when his deep blue skin is all heat-flushed and sweaty, right? And it surely doesn’t matter if you wander past the Recombinant areas of the base far more frequently than you need to, right? It’s not as if anyone is going to notice.

It doesn’t really matter how much you stare, because the colonel is utterly oblivious to your attention. He never notices you, not even once. And that’s fine too, you tell yourself. It makes it easier, in fact! You can admire him all you want if he never looks at you, after all.

It gets a little bit more challenging to hide where your attention is straying when other people start to figure it out.

It’s like your little crush is an inside joke in the science department. The scientists on base tend to be pretty good at minding their own business (mostly because they’re usually so damn focused on their own work and little projects), but in this case you’ve become an endless source of amusement for them.

You can see the way the entire xenobiology department giggle together when you perk up at dinnertime as soon as the Recombinant soldiers enter the mess hall, and you know that they’re nudging each other when your attention strays to the Colonel as he eats. He’s got such sharp teeth, and your eyes fixate on him as he licks the sorry excuse for food he’s been served off his canines.

When you start dressing up a little bit more, the science guys start sharing smirks. It’s a little bit humiliating, but honestly you think you’re starting to lose your sense of shame. You start wearing tight little pencil skirts and thin blouses, under the guise of professionalism, and you start to do your makeup a little bit heavier too. Quaritch never so much as bats an eyelid in your direction.

“Not that I’m complaining, per se,” Geiszler drawls one afternoon, leaning lazily against the worktop as you painstakingly organise tissue samples. “But aren’t you trying a little too hard?”

“Shut up.” You grumble, chewing on your stick lip-glossed lower lip. “It’s just a skirt.”

“Right.” He drawls, eyes trailing down over the length of your body as you shift on your uncomfortable little stool. “And the makeup?”

“It’s not breaking any uniform protocols.” You say simply, scratching just under your eye. 

Geiszler sniffs, amused. “Is it true you’ve been following around the xenobiologists when they go to check on the recoms?”

You peer very closely at the tissue sample in your hands, a little more closely than entirely necessary. “Maybe.”

“Jesus.” He lets out a short, disbelieving sort of laugh. “Fuck. Why? D’you get off on being ignored or something?”

That’s a little crass, and you raise your head to scowl at him. He really doesn’t need to rub it in like that – it’s pretty damn obvious that your crush is unrequited. It’s cruel to point it out like that. 

“It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t notice,” You mutter, aggravated. “I’m just- I just like looking, that’s all.”

Geiszler snorts again, but he appears to be somewhat sympathetic now. “Right. Just looking.”

Finally, you tear your attention away from the samples so you can scowl at him. “What do you want, Dr. Geiszler?”

“I want to put you out of your misery.” He replies simply, leaving his elbows against the worktop and smirking at you. “Recoms are being sent out tomorrow. Just a small run – Ardmore wants to put those new bodies to the test before she sends them out after Sully.”

“Why are you telling me this?” You ask as though you’re not hanging onto every damn word.

“They’re heading to the lowlands, at the base of the mountains,” Geiszler levels you with a significant look. “You know what that means, right?”

You perk up instantly at that, your eyes growing wide.

“Panopyra.” You breathe.

Your entire damn doctoral dissertation is centred around the unusual, jellyfish-like plants that grow on other Pandoran plants. It hovers somewhere between plant, animal, and fungi, having evolved a primitive sort of nervous system. It grows a cuplike body that collects water from dew and fog and condenses it down into a thick, syrupy sort of liquid. That liquid is then collected by the native Na’vi for use in their healing drinks. It is that medicinal property that fascinates you so much.

“Yeah, I thought that might get your attention.” Geiszler grins. “You’ve run out of the samples you’ve been using, right? You’re not gonna be able to write any more of your thesis without more specimens.”

“Yes,” You breathe, your brain already scrambling to think of all the things you need to do. “I need- oh, I need some cuttings of the sensory tissue, and I need a lot more samples of the internal liquid. The stems, too-”

“Right, right,” Geiszler interrupts, nodding. “The problem is, it’s just the Recoms being sent out. They’re not bringing any of the science team.”

Your shoulders sag a little at that. How are you meant to get a proper sample if there’s no one qualified to take samples going on their reconnaissance trip?

As if he knows exactly what you’re thinking, Geiszler’s smile turns a little sly. “If you want those samples, you’re gonna have to ask the big man in charge of the mission to bring some back for you. And you’re gonna have to ask real nicely.”

Colonel Quaritch’s office is empty when you call at it, and so you’re forced to go searching for him.

You find the recoms in the little recreation room just off the hangar designated for soldier use – Na’vi-sized beanbags had been thrown into it as an afterthought for the recom soldiers, and it’s almost comical to walk in and find so many of them sprawled across the squishy chairs. Some of them have instead decided to squeeze them into the regular armchairs, with one Na’vi-sized body occupying an entire sofa. They’re playing poker of all things; they’ve been provided with a set of over-sized playing cards and everything.

They’re a rowdy bunch, shouting and roaring with laughter, and so they don’t immediately spot you when you edge your way into the room. For a moment, you think that the colonel isn’t here. But then you take another look, and you spot him. 

Quaritch is standing to the side, his spine taut and his shoulders back and straight. It’s a very formal position just for watching his squad relax, but there’s a certain softness to his expression as he watches them that you’ve never seen from him before. Your heart skips a beat; this is the most unguarded that you’ve ever seen him, and your eyes fixate on his face eagerly as you try to drink in all the details.

It’s Fike that notices you first.

“Aw, man,” He groans, tilting his head back dramatically before gesturing at you with his cards. “Not another checkup. We told the other doc, if something feels wrong we’ll tell you-”

“Ah, no.” You’re beginning to get flustered. Fike’s exclamation has drawn the attention of the other recoms, and all of a sudden you feel as though you’ve been placed under a spotlight. “I’m- I’m not actually a doctor!”

There’s a very brief pause, and then one of the female soldiers sits up from her beanbag to squint at you. You think this one is Walker.

“Why are you here all the time, then?” She asks. “Weren’t you here for our checkup yesterday?”

Oh. They had noticed. Embarrassed heat is beginning to build in your cheeks, and you can’t help but dart a quick look over at where Quaritch is still leaning against the wall. For the first time ever, he’s looking right at you. The realisation sends little jolts of electricity racing up your spine. His expression is entirely neutral, almost bored, but that doesn’t matter. He’s seeing you.

“I was just, um, shadowing the xenobiologists,” You say quickly, “For my internship.”

One of the other recoms turns to another and mouths 'internship’, and they both start to snicker. You pretend not to notice.

“And what does the intern want with us?” Fike asks, already having turned back to his cards.

It’s terribly embarrassing having to stand here and have these 9-foot-tall soldiers basically look you up and down before disregarding your entire existence. But you’re here now, and you have to push through.

“I’d..” You begin, before your throat goes dry and you have to clear your throat before trying again. “Could I please speak to the colonel?”

All the snickering and whispering dies down for a moment as the recoms look at you before swinging their heads around to look at their superior officer. There’s a moment of silence, but then the subtle sniggers start right back up again.

“So polite,” one of them whispers, and you feel yourself burn with embarrassment. But it doesn’t matter how many of them are sharing smirks or whispers, because Colonel Quaritch has pushed himself off the wall and is beginning to step towards you.

Oh god, he’s so big. You have to actually tilt your head back just to look at his face as he comes to a stop in front of you, and you begin to fidget nervously with your fingers. Up close, he seems so much bigger. Every movement has the skin around his muscles flexing, and you have to work hard not to stare like an absolute moron. 

He doesn’t crouch or bend down to make it easier for you to talk to him. Instead he just raises a brow, clearly waiting for you to speak.

“I, um- hello,” You start off clumsily, growing flustered under the weight of his intense, golden gaze. God, does he even realise how intimidating that is? “I was wondering if- I mean, I heard that you’re being sent out into the Pandoran lowlands tomorrow, and I was wondering if you might be able to bring me back something-”

God, you sound like such an idiot. There’s no way he doesn’t notice the way your voice trembles, or how you can’t quite meet his eyes, or how you keep stumbling over your words, but he just watches you evenly with no expression on his handsome face.

You fumble for the datapad that you brought with you, tapping clumsily at the screen before holding it up for him. His eyes dart to the photograph that’s being displayed, but he still doesn’t speak.

“This is panopyra.” You say, and your voice grows a little stronger. This, at least, is something you feel comfortable talking about. “It’s a plant that’s displaying characteristics of a new line of evolution toward a primitive nervous system. My entire dissertation is focused around my research into this plant, and I really need some samples. The body of it is hollow, and it collects a liquid inside-”

Finally, Quaritch speaks. 

“We ain’t bein’ sent out to do gardening.” His voice is deep and rumbly, edged with that Southern drawl. It has a hint of danger, even when he’s not actually threatening anything.

“I know!” You say hastily. “I know that. I just thought- I thought that maybe if you happened to see one, you might be able to take a sample of the liquid inside of it and, um… and bring it back.”

You end up trailing off a little pathetically, feeling overpowered by his intense stare. God, he looks so unimpressed with you right now. You bite your glossy lip and try not to shrink into yourself entirely.

At last, Quaritch sighs and holds out his hand. “Give me that thing.”

You hand over the datapad at once, your eyes growing wide at the possibility of him actually accepting. Asking for this favour had served the dual purpose of fulfilling your work needs and getting to talk to him, but you hadn’t actually expected him to agree.

He squints at the photograph on the screen, and swipes lazily through the mass amounts of text accompanying. “I ain’t reading all that shit. Give me the run-down on it.”

You had actually written ‘all that shit’, but no matter.

“It grows similar to a fungus, so you’ll likely find it attached to trees or other plants,” You rush to explain, excitement beginning to bubble up into your chest. “You won’t be able to take an actual sample of the tissue without damaging it, so forget about that. What I really would like is a sample of the fluid that collects inside the cup on top, see?”

His eyes follow you as you reach up on your toes to point out what you’re referring to in the photograph, and his ears flick back in acknowledgement.

“It poisonous?”

You hesitate a moment. “...No.”

Quaritch shoots you a look of obvious disbelief. “You wanna try that again?”

“It’s not poisonous.” You say, a little bit more convincingly this time. “But it does have a sort of defence system. Just… don’t touch the little tendrils.”

Quaritch’s face is set in stern disapproval, but he isn’t saying no. 

“I’ll provide you with the instruments you need,” You continue, starting to bounce a little on your toes at the prospect of him agreeing. You really need these samples. “Oh, I’d be so grateful!”

There’s a muffled sound from somewhere over your shoulder, where the rest of the recoms are no doubt watching and listening with great interest, but you don’t turn. Quaritch’s gaze flickers only momentarily towards them, and they silence instantly. God, he’s so effortlessly commanding.

When he looks back to you, he just sighs through his nose and hands you back the datapad. “Fine. Send me the details.”

For a moment, you just stare at him. It takes a beat to register that he’s just agreed, and then a wide, beaming grin begins to grow across your face.

“Thank you-!” You start to squeal, but he cuts you off with a quick wave of his hand.

“Cut that out,” He grumbles, already beginning to scowl as he steps back. “Never let it be said by Ardmore that I was unco-operative with the goddamned science department, yeah?”

You’re not willing to press your luck any further than you already have. You just nod, a little frantic, before sending him one last smile and scurrying your way out of the room. The laughter from the rec room follows you all the way up the corridor, but you don’t care – you’re getting your samples and you just had your first conversation with Quaritch. He looked at you, he spoke to you. He knows you exist!

You’re smiling to yourself the entire way back to the lab, flushed with the pleasure of your success.

For the next couple of days, you’re waiting on tenterhooks for the recoms return. 

You still work away on your projects and your research, but you’re hyper-attuned to everyone that comes and goes from the lab. It’s not as though you’re really expecting the recoms to come into the lab, but you’re listening desperately for any news of their return.

The day before they’re due to arrive back to base, Geiszler comes to irritate you at your desk.

“Go away.” You grumble before he can say a word.

“Oh, come on!” He laughs. “I come bearing gifts!”

That catches your attention, and you raise your head from your work to squint at him. He’s standing there with a stupid sort of grin on his face, the kind that makes you uneasy, and his hands are tucked behind his back.

“What?” You ask suspiciously.

With a flourish, Geiszler pulls his arms out from behind his back. When you see what’s in his hands, you nearly scream.

“Oh my god, what the fuck is wrong with you-!” You hiss, whirling around to look frantically over your shoulders.

Mercifully, there’s no one around to witness the enormous blue dildo in his hands as he offers it up to you.

Geiszler is laughing, as though this is just the funniest shit he could have imagined. “Oh, the look on your face-!”

“Get that away from me!” You hiss, scandalised. “Oh my god, you do realise that I could report you for workplace sexual harassment-”

“But you won’t, because we made this specially for you-”

“We?” You hiss in disbelief. “Who the fuck is we?”

Geiszler waves that away as though it’s unimportant. “Me and some of the other guys in xeno. Look, it gets boring in the lab. We thought this was funny. It’s a Na’vi dildo, to scale. You’re welcome.”

“You are such an asshole.” You snap, mortified. “God, what is wrong with you!”

Geiszler just snorts, and places the big dildo on your desk, right in the middle of your papers. It’s almost comically large, made with bright blue silicone and featuring a prominent, squishy head. It’s even ribbed down the underside, with bumps that admittedly look rather attractive. Your face burns at the sight of it.

“Do you have any idea how hard it was to get that 3D-printed-” 

“Take it back!” You pick it up and try to push it at him, but he’s already backing away with his hands up in the air. The stupid prick is laughing at you. 

“Nu-uh! It’s all yours!” He’s already backing away, all sniggers. “You can imagine the colonel-”

“Oh, you freak! That is so invasive-!” You nearly drop the dildo entirely, both horrified and mortified. 

Oh my god, it was to scale. This was the size of what the colonel was packing? It feels as though the silicone is burning in your hand, and you feel horribly hot and prickly. Oh, this was such an invasion of the colonel’s privacy. Whether it was the standard size of a Na’vi cock or not, the idea of using it while imagining Quaritch over you has you flushed and embarrassed.

Geiszler is still laughing when he ducks out of the lab, leaving you alone and absolutely humiliated.

After that, you avoid the lab. You know that the scientists all think that your crush on Quaritch is just one big joke, and you really don’t want to see them all smirking and sniggering when they see you, and you really don’t want to have to field any sly comments about the stupid dildo. 

You’ve been too mortified to even look at it too closely, so you take it and hide it away under a load of papers in a separate work area that’s usually used as storage. You’ve been hiding away in this separate little work room for days now; you can’t do any important experiments here, but it’s as good a place as any to work on your dissertation and at least you can be alone here.

You’re in this little work area, typing furiously, when the door slides open behind you with a hiss.

“Geiszler, if you’re here just to harass me again, I will fuck you up.” You bite out without turning, your shoulders turning tense as you glare at your monitor.

There’s a moment of silence, and you hope that he’s taken the hint to go away and leave you alone.

“I’m not sure I appreciate that tone, girl.”

You turn so quickly that you nearly overbalance right off your chair, eyes wide and horrified. The workroom that you’ve practically claimed for yourself is small, with low ceilings designed for human use – that means that Quaritch has had to duck down to fit through the door, and remains standing hunched and visibly irritated, with one hand lifted against the ceiling so he doesn’t hit his head.

“Oh-!” You scramble to get off your chair and fix your skirt, tugging it down straight as you hope and pray that your hair looks alright. “Sir, I- I didn’t realise that you were back!”

Quaritch just grunts. He does not look particularly happy, but he sets a large sample container on one of the empty desk spaces. Inside, it’s filled with a clear liquid that could easily be mistaken for water, but you know better.

“Oh!” You gasp, jolting forward to take a better look. “Oh, such a big sample! This is amazing, thank you!”

Quaritch says nothing, his big alien face impossible to read.

“It better be worth it.” Another voice cuts in, and you jolt in surprise at the realisation that there’s another big blue figure ducking in through the door after Quaritch.

You pause, uncertain in the face of this newcomer and already nervous from Quaritch’s overbearing presence. Oh, god. He’s brought company. Why has he brought company? Another blue head appears over the shoulder of the first soldier, and your eyes dart between them. You’ve spent enough time watching the Colonel to recognise them as Corporal Wainfleet and Private Fike, though you don’t have so much as a passing acquaintance with them.

“I thought you said they were harmless.” Fike grumbles, before raising his hands up to show you rather brutal looking purple bruises along the backs of his hands. “Fucking look at this.”

“Oh.” You breathe, wincing. “No, I said they weren’t poisonous. I did tell you to watch out for the tendrils. The defence system is really quite amazing-”

“Oh yeah, it felt fucking amazing when it was stinging the ever-loving shit out of me.” Fike interrupts, though he appears to have lost interest in speaking to you in favour of peering curiously around the work room.

You can imagine that the place looks fairly dismal; you hadn’t been expecting visitors, so your research is scattered everywhere. Coloured sketches and photographs of cross-sections of the panopyra plant are stuck up on the walls all over, not just around your own desk. You’ve taken advantage of the desks that are never in use, piling your notes and research high all over the place. Writing your dissertation is exhausting work, after all – there is just so much to learn from these plants, so much potential.

“Well, I think that it is worth it.” You say, stepping towards the counter that Quaritch had placed your sample on and reaching eagerly for the beaker. “It’s difficult to get samples like this – there are so few excursions into the jungle these days. But one this size might actually be enough to fuel my research for the next two months at least! I might actually be able to finish my dissertation at last-”

No one is listening to you, you’re quite certain, but you don’t let that deter you as you babble away, raising the beaker to your eye level so that you can examine it. The liquid inside is pure and uncontaminated – the perfect specimen.

“Whoa,” Wainfleet is peering at the sketches on the wall. “You’re really into these weird little plants, huh?”

“They’re the whole reason I’m here on Pandora.” You say matter-of-factly, placing the beaker back down on the desk. “Everything I’m doing here, all my research, is all centred around them.”

It’s the most you’ve ever said in the presence of the recoms, and you find yourself mentally patting yourself on the back. You really are intelligent and driven, though you’re sure that the recoms would never have guessed it based on how moronically you act around Colonel Quaritch. They seem quite surprised to discover that you have actual interests other than their beefy commanding officer.

Fike and Wainfleet both poke around the work room curiously, snickering with each other as they peer blindly into microscopes and push around enormous reference books like big kids.

“Hey, careful with that!” You say reproachfully, though they pay you no mind.

Quaritch himself is still standing silently, taking in the room with alert but judgemental eyes. He doesn’t seem all that impressed by your work, but then again it’s almost impossible to read him. He makes no effort to chide his underlings at all, and they continue messing about unchecked.

“Took us a while to find you.” Quaritch speaks suddenly, and your attention is drawn to him immediately, a swoop of excitement juddering through you at the fact that he’s speaking to you. “You’re not in the lab with the rest of the science pukes.”

Your silly excitement at being on the receiving end of his attention dims a little at that. Science pukes? Seriously? You’ve worked damn hard for this degree! 

“That’s not nice.” You say, then mentally curse yourself. It’s not quite the scathing reproach you had intended – it comes out a little wobbly and uncertain. God, why do you have to come across as such a sad little wet blanket whenever you’re in front of him?

“Not nice?” Quaritch repeats, sounding partially amused and partially disbelieving. “And when have I ever been known for bein’ nice, sweetheart?”

Good lord, he’s terrifying. You don’t normally have a difficult time standing up for yourself, but something about being on the receiving end of that bright yellow stare makes your stomach twist. You don’t know if it's fear or arousal, and you also don't know which would be worse.

“I just mean-” You start, trying hard to keep your voice strong and confident. “That calling people names isn’t nice.”

Calling people names isn’t nice. Fucking hell, you sound like a goddamn five-year-old. What is even happening to you? You swear you’re not normally like this. Has your brain just rotted thanks to all the stupid ogling of his big biceps you’ve been doing? You’re mortified.

“Jesus Christ.” Wainfleet’s voice calls out from somewhere behind you. “What the fuck is this?”

For a moment, you’re desperately relieved that they’ve called attention away from you. Quaritch is looking at you with scathing disbelief for that calling people names comment, and you’re quite sure that whatever he was going to say in response to that would be so biting that you’d wish you were dead.

But then you turn to look at Wainfleet, and you actually do wish that you were dead.

Because in his hand, looking almost regular sized against his much larger body, is that stupid, evil giant blue Na’vi dildo that Geiszler had given you last week. You had stuffed it behind a whole load of old papers on an unused desk and forgotten about it – it was just your fucking luck that these gormless blue bastards would unearth it accidentally as they poked around.

Mortification erupts through your body, so overwhelming that it roots you to the spot. No way. No way. No way.

“Holy fuck!” Fike bursts out laughing, and holds his hands up. “Give that here!”

Nothing can describe the sheer humiliation that sears through you when Wainfleet tosses the dildo to Fike. You just stand there frozen, watching the two enormous Na’vi soldiers throw a huge silicone dick between them in the middle of your workspace.

“Damn, the little intern’s a freak!” Fike says in mock approval, his voice dripping in amusement. 

He makes a show of holding the dildo up to the light and peering at it, faux-admiring the bumps and ridges along the shaft.

“No, that’s not-” You start, and your voice cracks. “That’s not mine-”

You go entirely ignored as the two soldiers roar boisterously.

“Damn, you think of the Colonel when you use this?” Wainfleet asks, cackling as Fike throws it back to him. “Is this why you follow him around everywhere? You want the real thing?”

The humiliation is so intense that it’s actually difficult to breathe around it, stifling and choking. You glance at Quaritch, hoping that by some miracle he’s gone temporarily blind and deaf and has missed this entire exchange so far. The idea of him knowing that you’ve been following him around is shocking, and you feel yourself shrinking.

Quaritch has just pressed his lips together. As you watch, he gives a deep sigh through his nose. 

Your stomach quivers with mortification. Oh my god. He knew already – how long has he been aware of your crush?

“No,” You choke out, your skin burning hot. “No, I don’t- I don’t use that, it was given to me as a joke-”

Quaritch is still so difficult to read, but even still he looks as though he would rather be literally anywhere else right now. His gaze flickers briefly over your face, which is all contorted in mortification as you just barely bite back tears, and he rolls his eyes with a sigh.

“Alright, that’s enough-” Quaritch starts, but it’s too late.

Wainfleet has just reached out and smacked Fike around the head with the dildo, laughing as he did so, and Fike stumbles back with a playful roar as he tries to escape the silicone cock. He throws his arms out to catch his balance, but his big hands splay across one of the work tables and knock some of your reference books to the floor.

But it’s not just the books he knocks into. His hand smacks into that precious beaker full of panopyra liquid, and you let out a startled shout as the force of the blow of his hand breaks the glass container, the liquid inside showering all over the desk with all your papers.

Everyone goes silent, as though the sound of breaking glass signals some kind of change in the atmosphere. 

You let out a sound that’s positively wounded, jerking forward to the destroyed sample. You needed this specimen so badly – it was supposed to inform the research that you needed to finish your dissertation. How long would you have to wait for another sample like this one? You’ve been working on this research for years, and you were so damn close to the end. So damn close to being qualified, to stepping up the ladder and being taken seriously by your peers rather than just being seen as an intern.

“Shit.” One of the recoms mutter; you don’t bother looking up to see if it’s Wainfleet or Fike. “Didn’t mean to-”

Your eyes trace over the mess of broken glass, but then you realise what the sample has broken on and you feel your stomach drop to your feet.

“No!” You shriek, launching yourself forward. 

The recoms all jerk in surprise at your shout, but you pay them no mind. It’s like they’re invisible to you now. All you can see is the way that your papers, your precious research, is being soaked through and destroyed by the liquid that has spilled all over the desk.

“No, no, no, no.” You breathe to yourself, biting hard at the inside of your cheek to keep from crying as you struggle to pick up your research, shaking it out in an attempt to get the worst of the wetness off.

It’s too late. Your research, all your painstakingly-taken hand-written notes, tears like wet tissue-paper in your hands.

You raise your head to look at the three recoms in your workspace, still clutching your destroyed research to your chest. You must look crazed, breathing heavily with wide and wild eyes, because Wainfleet and Fike share a wincing look with each other.

Awkwardly, Wainfleet reaches out and places the large dildo on the counter next to the ruins of your work. Everyone in the room struggles not to look at it.

Quaritch’s jaw is clenched hard, his ears pinned back against the sides of his head. He appears to be holding himself back from shouting, though you’re not sure at who. Slowly, he turns his head to look at his two subordinates, who are now standing with their heads ducked as they try not to make eye contact.

With trembling hands, you drop your ruined research back down on the counter. Your mortification is swiftly being overtaken by pure rage. 

How fucking dare they? It would be one thing for them to mock you about your crush (that apparently Quaritch was already fucking aware of) but it’s entirely another for them to humiliate you by parading around with that stupid fucking dildo that you’ve never even properly touched. And then to go and destroy your sample, the one that you’ve waited so long for and that you needed so desperately for your dissertation? And to destroy a chunk of your existing research too?

“Get out.” You whisper, your fingers shaking as you pluck at the ruins of your papers.

Quaritch sighs through his nose. “Look, we’ll get you another sample of the damn thing. There’s no need to-”

“Get out!” You raise your voice for real, whipping your head up to shout at them. “God, you assholes! Get out!”

Fike laughs nervously, glancing towards Quaritch. That only sets you off even more. They have the audacity to follow their commanding officer into your workspace and mess around, ruining things, and now they’re not going to listen to you after destroying your work? God, they look down on you so much it’s sickening. They’re not even listening to you after humiliating you so soundly, choosing instead to look towards Quaritch as if his opinion matters so much more than yours.

Your rage is only fuelled by your earlier embarrassment, your face flushed with heat as you glare at them. Oh, you’re furious. You can’t remember ever being so humiliated and livid in your life.

“I want you fucking out!” You roar, and when they don’t move you reach for a reference book on the table beside you and launch it at them. “You’ve fucking ruined it-”

Wainfleet ducks to avoid the book that soars over his head, but you’re already reaching for another one. He throws his hands up in a gesture of surrender, but you’re so blinded by rage that you barely even see it.

“Oi!” Quaritch lets out a shout and steps forward with his hands outstretched as if to physically stop you. “Enough! You’ll be written up for assault if you keep this up-”

You let out an inarticulate noise of fury as you throw a second book, this one bouncing harmlessly off Fike’s shoulder. “I’ll be written up for murder if you don’t get the fuck out of here-”

Wainfleet lets out a sound that sounds like a nervous giggle that’s been choked back. You can imagine that it’s a little bit of a shock for them to see you go from shy and mild-mannered to absolutely fucking insane, but your crush on Quaritch really had made you act like a total idiot around them. You feel so stupid about it now – you had become so enamoured with someone who totally ignored your existence, shrinking into yourself like a goddamn wallflower because you were so shy around him.

But Quaritch is looking at you, for possibly one of the first times ever. Not just looking at you, but seeing you. 

When you grab at a microscope to throw, heavy and metal and definitely capable of doing some damage, Quaritch lets out a sharp hiss and steps forward with a single hand outstretched towards you as though to physically restrain you.

“Get out.” He says without looking at his soldiers.

Wainfleet and Fike share a look with each other before practically scrambling to leave. They can’t seem to leave fast enough, though you have no doubt that they’re snickering together as they go. 

“You too.” You grit out, fists clenched around the microscope as though it’s a weapon. “I want you gone too.”

Despite your obvious anger, Quaritch makes no move to leave. His big honey-coloured eyes trace over the broken glass on your desk, your ruined research, your big teary eyes. You probably look like a mess; you’re practically sweating from all the embarrassment, your hair is in disarray, your eyes are all swollen from the angry tears that are threatening to spill over.

“You need to calm down, darlin’.” He says, his voice low and a little bit rumbly. Ordinarily that might make you melt, but as it is you just feel as though he’s being condescending. “It’s just some goddamn plant water. You’ll get more on the next run.”

“Oh, fuck off.” You snap without thinking, your chest still heaving with poorly stifled emotion. “It’s not just about the sample and you know it.”

Quaritch’s golden eyes cut towards the big dildo on the counter, and you feel your temper flare all over again.

“It’s not about that either!” You snap, embarrassed and defensive. “This research is my life! Without it, there’s no point to me even being here on Pandora. Your fucking knuckleheads have just destroyed months worth of work. Do you have any idea how much harder I have to work than the fucking men out there?”

You gesture towards the door to the main laboratory, where you’re sure they’ve walked past all the overwhelmingly male scientists working away. No doubt they can hear the shouting, but no one has been brave enough to come looking to see what’s wrong. 

Quaritch’s expression doesn’t so much as twitch as he watches you rage, and he doesn’t interrupt.

“Do you have any idea how difficult it is just to claw my way up to equal standing with them? They laugh at me enough already, that’s why they gave me that stupid thing-” You wave at the dildo without looking at it. “Just because they knew that I liked you. They laugh at me for having a stupid crush on you, and I… I’m so sick of people looking at me like I’m just pathetic, because I work so hard! And now you’re here, and you’ve just ruined my work-”

Quaritch lets you rant until you run yourself dry. You’re breathing heavily, exhausted and furious and so fucking sick of the sight of him.

“Look, kid.” He says at last, when you pause for breath. “You’re sweet. Pretty. Smart, clearly. But I ain’t looking for anything like that. I need to focus on this mission-”

“Oh, what the fuck.” You breathe, staring at him in total disbelief. “Is that the only part you fucking heard? I have a crush on you, that’s it! All I wanted was for you to look my way, and it took a giant fucking dildo for you to actually acknowledge that you knew about how I felt? You’re such a dick-”

“Hey,” He barks, stepping forward. He’s so huge, his bulk alone throwing you into shadow as he looms over you. “Watch your mouth-”

“No!” You snap, although your voice is a little thin. He really is an intimidating bastard. “No, you don’t get to tell me what to do! God, I am so sick of men thinking they can tell me what to do-”

Quaritch’s chest erupts in a little rumbling snarl, and you have to fight not to flinch away from him. He’s like a beast, lip all curled up over his fangs as he growls at you for your attitude.

“So what, your solution is to hide away in this miserable little room?” He demands, stepping forward just so he can look down his nose at you. “Some of those dickless little science guys were mean to you, so you’re gonna lock yourself away like this?”

“It’s not-”

“What’s the point in dressing up all pretty in those little skirts with all that makeup if you’re hiding away in here, huh?” He continues, insistent as he keeps pushing forward until you start to back up. “Maybe that’s why they don’t take you seriously. You need to stand up for-”

“That’s for you!” You shout, temper flaring up all over again. “I do that for you, because I thought you might look at me!”

Quaritch pauses at that, blinking as though you’ve just taken him by surprise. It infuriates you; how could he be so stupid, especially when he has known about your crush all this time. It’s not like it was subtle.

Suddenly, you feel absolutely exhausted. It’s like every ounce of your energy has been leached out of you, and you turn your head and sigh. The amount of emotions that have washed through you in such a short space of time has left you feeling drained and drawn, and you just want to be left alone now.

“I don’t want to look at you anymore.” You say tiredly, turning away from him and burying your face in your hands. “Just get out. Go away.”

There’s a long pause, but mercifully Quaritch doesn’t try to argue any further. You’re still turned away and facing the wall, so you hardly hear his quiet footsteps as he turns on his heel and marches out of the room. The door whooshes closed behind him, leaving you alone and hunched in the middle of the room.

In hindsight, you may have overreacted with the recoms a little bit. 

You had been careful to back up some of the most important points of your research to your hard drive, so you hadn’t truly lost as much information as you had initially feared. It’s more of an inconvenience than a tragedy, really. The loss of the sample does sting quite a bit, but you’ll get more. It just might take another couple of months – the wait is frustrating, but there’s nothing you can do about that.

All you can do is try to recoup some of the notes that you’ve lost, and struggle to write more based on the samples that you’ve already studied. It’s very difficult to come up with any new material when you don’t actually have anything to work with, but all you can do is your best, as usual.

Geiszler creeps into the small workroom a few days later. 

For several days after the incident with the recoms, none of your colleagues have dared to say a word to you. You’re sure they had heard the shouting, the glass shattering, the sound of you throwing books. If they had somehow missed all that, then they surely would have noticed the recoms that had stalked from the workroom, all agitated and pent up from the argument. Yet none of them have even asked you if you were okay.

“Still avoiding us, huh?” Geiszler asks, his question accompanied with a nervous laugh.

“Fuck off.” You bite out without looking away from your computer screen.

“Ouch.” Geiszler mutters. “I suppose I might deserve that.”

You can hear him approaching, but you still refuse to turn around. You just keep stubbornly working away, acting as though you’re too busy to spare him any attention. Unfortunately, Geiszler doesn’t let your inattention sway him; he just settles in a stool nearby, fidgeting with his fingers.

“I, uh… heard about that little blow up you had with the Colonel.” He says, clearly a little awkward. “I wanted to apologise. Upon reflection, the, uh… the dildo thing might have been a little inappropriate.”

You fight the urge to sigh. God, what did you do to deserve being surrounded with morons like this?

“Yeah, no shit.” You mutter, finally looking up to glare at him. “Why are you here? All I want is to be left alone.”

Geiszler, to your gratification, looks positively shame-faced. He’s looking down at his hands as he twiddles his thumbs, sighing.

“Wanted to apologise, I guess.” He mutters, shrugging.

“Yeah, well, whatever.” You mutter, finally abandoning your attempts to appear busy as you turn to him. “Plenty more Na’vi on Pandora, right?”

A nervous giggle bubbles out of his chest, as though he’s not certain if he’s allowed to laugh or not.

“Yeah, yeah, right.” He says, starting to grin. “And, uh… are you.. Are you strictly Na’vi-sexual, or are you-”

You burst out laughing, turning to look at him in disbelief. “Na’vi-sexual? There’s no way you just fucking asked me that.”

There’s a bizarre sort of blush on his face, but he laughs along with you anyway. “Right, right. Well, you can’t blame me for wondering, right? With your crush, I mean.”

Your smile fades, and you look back down at your work scattered all over the desk. 

“I don’t want to talk about that, actually.” You murmur, “I think I’ve made enough of a fool of myself as is.”

Geiszler nods awkwardly, looking distinctly guilty.

“Yeah. You, um,” He breaks off, scratching uncomfortably at the back of his neck. “You look nice.”

You just raise a sardonic eyebrow at him. You’ve gone without makeup today, and you know that going bare-faced makes you look younger, but who were you kidding with all that makeup, anyway? You’ve abandoned the sleek pencil skirts and pretty blouses, too. Under your lab coat you wear a simple sort of sundress, one that stops just below the knees. No heels, either, just sneakers.

“Yeah, well.” You shrug a shoulder lazily. “No one to impress.”

Geiszler’s smile twists as he nods again. “Sure, sure. Um… look, I was wondering-”

You never do get to know what it is that Geiszler is wondering. The sound of the door to the workroom hissing open cuts him off, and he falls silent as the two of you look to see who has just encroached into your space.

The sight of Quaritch’s big blue form ducking in and then straightening up has the two of you stiffening, staring at him in disbelief. 

You’re absolutely rooted to the spot at the sight of him, but when he turns to look at you, you whirl around and immediately feign being busy. You grab blindly at papers and datapads, and peer unseeingly at your computer screen as you try to look preoccupied. What is he doing here?

Geiszler, meanwhile, doesn’t even try to pretend that he’s not gawking stupidly. 

Quaritch glances his way, and his expression drops into a sneer. “What’re you looking at? Get outta here.”

Irritatingly, Geiszler scrambles to do just that. He sends one last glance towards you before practically fleeing from the room, nervously ducking around Quaritch’s imposingly large figure.

Your eyes bulge a little now that you’re left alone with him, and your eyes dart around frantically around the room in search of something to do. Why is he here? Why the fuck has he come back? It’s been days since your embarrassing breakdown in front of him, and you’ve been blissfully unaware of him since. You’ve basically just locked yourself up in this room, working on your research. You’ve even taken meals here – it’s a much more productive use of your time than wandering around the base after Quaritch in the hopes of catching a good glimpse of his ass in his camo.

Fighting to resist the urge to look his way, you tap urgently at the datapad in your hand.

“Do you need something, Colonel?” You ask icily, your attention focused down on your pad. “I’m very busy.”

There’s a momentary silence, but you’re not willing to look up to see his expression.

“Was that one of the cockless little deadbeats that’s been giving you a hard time?”

Giving you a hard time. God, it sounds as though you’re a bullied little kid. How embarrassing.

“He’s the one that gave me the dildo.” You say simply, tapping on the datapad screen. “But he’s not so bad, I guess. Just a bit of an idiot. That doesn’t answer my question.”

The next pause is much longer.

“Haven’t seen you around.” Quaritch drawls, his voice slow and even. “Couldn’t get away from you, before.”

Oh my god, this man is just determined to humiliate you. 

Pursing your lips, you turn and march towards the specimen fridge in the corner of the room. It’s really just a mini fridge; a low, hip-high box that contains various biological specimens, and you kneel down and stick your head inside in an attempt to look busy.

“Not like there was any need to come see you.” You call out simply, your voice slightly muffled from inside the fridge. “You made yourself pretty clear, before.”

“Oh?” His voice is closer, though his steps are so light that you can’t hear him approach. “About what?”

“About me.” You snap, though you keep your head firmly buried in the fridge. It’s so much easier to talk to him when you can’t see his face. “Just go back to ignoring me, please.”

There’s another long pause, and you keep staring blankly at the bright white wall of the mini fridge. But then a touch comes to your hip, and you jolt in surprise. 

Quaritch’s hand is big and hot, the heat of it searing through the fabric of your labcoat and your sundress. It engulfs your whole damn hip, curving around towards your lower stomach.

“What’s with the change in clothes, sweetheart?” His voice has dropped an octave, rumbling into you as you feel him shuffle closer. “I thought all those little skirts were for me.”

Your fingers clench around the door of the fridge. What the fuck is he doing? All that time you had spent dressed up, made up, simpering like a damn idiot at him, he had barely even given you a sideways glance. But now, after screaming and crying at him like a lunatic, he’s making a pass at you while you’re wearing a simple dress with no makeup. What the fuck?

“I’m not trying to impress you.” You say simply – you feel braver inside the fridge.

“No?” His thumb strokes over your thigh, and you feel the hem of your dress hitch higher. “Well, I like this little number. Better than the others, maybe.”

You swallow thickly, staring blankly at one of the little labeled test tubes beside your face. You don’t answer, but you don’t protest either. Quaritch seems to take your lack of response as encouragement, because his whole hand drifts from your hip to just under your dress. You jerk as you feel the skirt being flipped up over your ass – but you still don’t pull away.

“Hey, kid,” He murmurs, his voice soft and a little condescending. “I gotta question for you.”

His hands are moving slowly, as though waiting to see if you’re going to kick out or try to stop him any way. You know you probably should (where is your goddamn self-respect), but for some reason you allow the touch to travel all the way up your thighs.

Your belly tightens, heat flooding between your legs. Oh god, why aren’t you stopping this? You’re already embarrassed enough about the show of yourself you’ve made in front of him – this is surely going to make it worse by making you seem like a total slut. But then again, you’ve been desperate for him since you first locked eyes on him. Maybe you are a slut.

“What?” You breathe, your voice trembling a little as his big fingers leave red-hot trails over the bare skin on the back of your legs. A large palm strokes over the inside of your thigh, the soft calluses tickling your sensitive skin.

“That dildo. You ever use it?”

The question startles you enough that you jolt, the top of your head smacking into the top of the fridge. 

“What?”

He chuckles, and then you feel those big fingers curl around your cotton panties. “You coming outta there?”

“No,” You blurt, grabbing at the sides of the mini fridge. “No, I’m very busy.”

There’s a sharp tug to your underwear, and you gasp as you feel him pull the back of your panties up so that they’re wedged right up between your ass cheeks, the fabric stretched taut and tight over your cunt. You’re admittedly wetter than you’d like to be, and you feel your cheeks burn at the thought of him noticing.

And yet, you still don’t pull away. If anything, you’re holding your breath, waiting to see what the fuck he’s going to do next.

When you feel warm breath on your exposed ass cheek, you nearly choke. Oh my god, how closely is he looking at you right now? Is his face pressed right up between your legs? It sure fucking feels like it.

“Answer the question.”

You swallow thickly. “I, um.. I don’t-”

His hand twists, and you gasp as your panties are pulled up further. The message is clear – tell the truth.

“Once,” You choke out, mortified. “Just once! I just- I threw it out after, I didn’t-”

You don’t even have time to fully process the fact that you’ve just admitted that. It had been a moment of total weakness, your decision to smuggle that stupid dildo back to your room. Or maybe it had been morbid curiosity – you just wanted to know if you would be able to take it. You had binned it straight after, mortified by your own weakness. 

There’s a sharp pain on the soft pudge of your ass, as though he’s just nipped at you there. Your thighs twitch together, horrified by the little electric zap of arousal that jolts between your legs.

“Could you take it?” He wonders, and you can hear a grin in his voice.

Holy shit, is this happening? Are you dead? Hallucinating? Have you just lost your goddamn mind?

Emboldened by the fact that he can’t see your face where you’ve stuffed your head and shoulders into the fridge, you mumble, “Pervert.”

Two hands grip at your hips, and you let out a wheezing, startled gasp when you feel a wide, rough tongue lick a stripe across your pussy through your panties. His spit soaks through the delicate fabric, making it cling to your already sticky cunt. 

“Whatcha say?” He mumbles, his muffled words vibrating against your clit. He sounds smug, the bastard.

Your thighs clench around his face, but he just reaches up and pushes them back open again with no effort.

“What are you doing?” You gasp out, dropping your forehead down onto the tray of the fridge and making the sample test tubes clink together dangerously.

He huffs a short laugh and pulls his head back to nip right at the juncture of your ass and thigh, making you jolt away from his mouth. “What, you don’t like it? Want me to stop?”

“No!” You blurt, reaching back to try and grab at his head to keep him in place.

He knocks your hand aside, but you can feel him laughing. “Get your head out of that goddamn fridge then, before I drag you out.”

You feel like staying inside the mini-fridge just on principle, but you can’t bear the thought of him pulling his mouth away from you. Not when he’s finally started to touch you, after so long of you yearning for it.

Slowly, you pull your head out. No sooner have you started to move then Quaritch uses his grip on your hips to pull you out. You let out a startled sound as his big hands grab at you and flip you, throwing you on your back in front of him. The display of casual strength is unexpected and very, very attractive, and your legs spread eagerly before he even moves to open them himself.

When you actually get a look at him, it nearly bowls you right over. His pupils are so blown that they’re swallowing his irises, leaving just a thin ring of gold around the edge. His ears are held high and alert, and his mouth is quirked in that infuriatingly cocky little grin right now. 

Fuck, he’s just as horny as you are. The realisation is shocking.

“Fuck, all this for me, baby?” He asks, hooking his fingers into your panties and tugging them right off with no effort.

You don’t put up a single ounce of fight, arching your back with an excited gasp as you’re left exposed in front of him with your dress all hiked up around your waist.

He lets out a soft groan as he reaches a finger out and drags it through the folds of your cunt, clearly marvelling at the wetness that has collected there. That same finger slips inside of you and you moan, wanting more, wanting to roll up into it, wanting the ache inside of you filled to the brim.

“Look at you, kid, all sexed up like this.” He says, pulling that finger out and admiring the glistening slick on his hand.

“You’re just a-” You gasp, heaving for breath as you struggle to regain yourself. “A dirty old man!”

That makes him laugh, a low groan of a sound that makes your eye twitch. Holy fuck, does he like being called names?

“Oh yeah?” He rumbles, sounding delighted. He doesn’t wait for you to answer before he’s licking at you again.

He flattens his tongue and guides it up, sliding across your slit before enveloping your clit in his mouth and sucking. You’re arching into his mouth, breathlessly stuttering his name as your hips twitch. His hands on your hips are so big and so strong, holding you so firmly in place as his mouth devours you. 

The flat of his tongue is rough and textured like a cat’s, and you let out a low gasping sound as it catches against your clit. Two of his fingers push into you as his tongue works over your clit, as thick and meaty as a well-hung cock. He must feel the flutter of your cunt around his fingers, because he growls low, his powerful form all but vibrating with tension. 

Oh god, he’s so big. You had known that, of course, but it’s so different having him all up in your space like this, your legs thrown over the bulge of his biceps as his big head worms its way between your legs, licking insistently at you. The bulk of him is enormous, simmering sexuality about to boil over - it’s insanely arousing to you, the sheer energy of him sending your head spinning. 

The onslaught of sensation from the wet heat of his mouth has your head dropping back to the floor, staring up at the ceiling as your eyes go wide. You’ve never felt anything like this before, and as much as you don’t want to give Quaritch the satisfaction of knowing that he affects you like this, you can't help the way your back bows as he licks and sucks at you. 

He grins against you when he feels you shiver against his mouth. When your thighs clench closed around his head he groans softly against you. Embarrassed, your legs spring back apart, but Quaritch reaches up and grabs at your thighs to prevent them from spreading too wide.

“Squeeze if you want to.” He grunts, before devoting all his attention to licking and sucking at you once more. He tugs encouragingly at your thighs, and when you wrap them tentatively around his head he gives an appreciative little hum.

You shiver, chest heaving. When he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, his textured tongue rasping over the bead of nerves, a strong white current washes over you and you arch into his mouth as you come.

You can’t speak, can’t think. The feeling is too overwhelming, too all-consuming before the come down eventually starts and words are coming out, your body shaking. 

“Oh fuck, god – oh my god,” you sob, slapping your hand over your mouth, biting down at your palm. “Quaritch– please, shit.”

You jerk your hips up, partially in an attempt to escape from the relentless stroking of his rough tongue over your oversensitive clit, but Quaritch moves with them. He’s basically on his knees following your cunt like a dog as you try to twitch away, using his huge hands on your ass to keep you pulled tight against his mouth.

He goes on licking at your clit and the swollen puffiness of your cunt, and when the rough texture catching against your most sensitive spot gets too much for you, you have to push at his head. He pulls back just slightly, but then continues to lick at the insides of your thighs, as if to lap up every last glimmer of your slickness.

Your head rolls on your neck, all boneless and loose as you wheeze for breath. Jesus Christ, you’ve just come so hard you can’t feel your toes. Colonel Quaritch has just eaten your pussy so goddamn good that you nearly blacked out. What the fuck?

Your cunt is still pulsing with the aftershocks of your orgasm when you feel Quaritch’s big fingers pressing inside of you, testing the stretch and slickness.

“You never answered me,” He murmurs, his tone almost conversational despite the huskiness of his voice. “And I hate repeating myself. So tell me; could you take that dildo?”

“Yes,” You sob, twisting your body around as his thumb rolls over your too-sensitive clit. “Yes, I could take it.”

“Yeah?” He says and it comes out on a purr, the vibrations rumbling in between your legs. “Think you could take me?”

You hardly have any idea how you’ve gotten into this position, but you’ve been imagining this for months now. You’re not stupid enough to throw away this chance.

“Why don’t you come and see?” You breathe, leaning back and arching your back boldly. You can hardly believe your own bravery, but maybe your own horniness is just making you stupid.

But Quaritch laughs, as though he finds you stupidly amusing, and his hands drop to his belt. You watch with wide, eager eyes as he flicks open his cargos and pushes them down and oh! There it is.

You push yourself up to get a better look, mouth falling open a little bit as you get a look at his cock. It’s big and blue and ridged, just like the dildo, but you hardly think it’s fair to compare the two. Quaritch’s cock is real, and looks velvety soft to the touch with a prominent, purplish head. Opalescent precum is beading at the tip, tinged slightly blue and glowing a little bit, what the fuck? He’s so hard that it looks a little painful as it strains against his stomach, though he’s still grinning so slyly that you would never guess.

You want to touch, but you don’t get the chance. His big paws for hands close around your hips and flip you again so that you’re on your hands and knees once more – he seems to like you in this position, because his hands grope insistently at the soft flesh of your ass as he grinds his hips into yours, the thick hardness of his cock rutting against the inside of your thighs.

He’s rough with you by human standards, but never enough to hurt. Just enough to send a little thrill up your spine when he pulls your hips into his, the thick ridge of his cockhead beginning to prod at the entrance of your cunt. It’s hot and large, but your mind feels like liquid, too drunk on all the pleasure he’s given you so far to deny more. 

You choke weakly, but you don’t try to wriggle away. You can do this, you can take him. He’s prepared you well, you’re relaxed and so wet, and you had managed to take that dildo inside you, if only for a brief time. You try to stop tensing and relax yourself as you take shaky breaths.

Quaritch pushes his cock in a little further, almost unbearably slow. You feel yourself being stretched open, small stings of pain shooting through you as you drop your forehead to the ground and grunt. One of his big thumbs strokes over the small of your back, the motion soothing and unexpectedly sweet as he slips another inch inside. 

“Oh, fuck.” You squeak, eyes wide. 

You can feel little bumps and ridges squeezing their way inside as he penetrates you, your lungs seizing up. Quiet cries and gasps fall out of your mouth as you adjust to the feeling of his cock filling you up. No human had ever given you this overwhelming sensation before, the feeling of being impossibly stretched open beyond belief. Not even that stupid goddamn dildo had come close to this.

Every time you think the length of his textured cock has finally ended, he’ll push a little more of himself in. You keep your eyes tightly closed as you continue panting heavily. He’s going incredibly slow too, careful and deliberate in his movements. You had stupidly thought that you would adjust quickly, but it feels as though you’re just barely hanging in there. 

Then, finally, Quaritch pauses. It’s a mercy, because your breaths are coming in wheezing pants now as you clench up around his cock, tightening up around the intrusion in flutters. You must be tight to the point of causing pain, but he just lets out a rumbly sort of groan against your back. His hands tense around your middle, impossibly long fingers holding you in place.

Right as you begin to accept the size of him, he uses that grip on your waist to pull you away from his cock and then back down onto him again. It knocks the wind right out of you. You gulp wildly for air, soundlessly. You can’t even cry out, you’re so stunned.

“Fuck,” Quaritch moans. “Like wet velvet, honey. Well done.”

Before you can process or even think, Quaritch pulls out and then pushes back into you, again and again. Every bump drags against your walls and snags on every sensitive part of you. It feels like you had never been fucked before this, the sweet, dull pain and overwhelming sensations of Quaritch looming over your body ruining you. 

He huffs and growls as he begins to thrust up into you, no longer slow and careful. Each time he pistons his hips, it’s powerful and keeps you from taking deep breaths. The way his body presses into yours, the way every part of you touches his burning skin, is intoxicating.

His need, his hunger borders on bestial. His wet breath condenses against your skin as he ruts into you fervently, destroying your thoughts. You’re totally at his mercy, whimpering pathetically and whining. 

It’s all too much, his size, his pace, his sharp teeth nipping the back of your neck and shoulders. He’s like a wild animal, his hard cock burying itself inside you over and over again. It’s the first time that you really begin to appreciate that Quaritch isn’t human anymore – it extends far beyond his looks and into his behaviour and instincts as well. There’s no reprieve; you can only accept his intense pace.

Unbelievably, your abdomen is tensing again, reeling up tighter and tighter. You’re on the brink of coming again, but it feels like it’s impossible. You’ve never been so pleased by a partner before, hardly ever able to come at the hands of someone else, and you’ve never come so quickly twice in succession before. You feel like you’ll die if you come again, it was too much. Everything was too much.

“Come on, mama, let me see that back arch.” Quaritch mutters to you, his voice thick and growling as his big hand settles across your shoulderblades and pushes you down.

All you can do is obey, shivering as his big hand keeps your upper body pinned to the floor, his other hand using its grip on your waist to pull your ass up higher so that he can pound into you at a better angle.

“I’m going to-” You gasp, your thighs trembling as you sob against the floor. “Oh, god, oh fuck, oh shit, I’m going to-”

“Gonna cream on me?” Quaritch grunts, his pace taking the air out of you. “Go ahead, kid. Go on. This is what you’ve been wanting, isn’t it?”

His hips slam into your ass with every thrust, every drag of his cock working those ridges against the sensitive nerves inside of you. You can feel him twitch inside of you, a sure sign that he’s approaching his own release. The thought makes you moan as the strength behind his hips sends you skidding forward on every thrust before getting yanked back by his hands.

Your lashes are all clumped together from tears, your mouth hanging open stupidly – not only are his thrusts knocking the air from you, it feels as though they’re knocking the thoughts from you too. It feels as though he’s giving fucked stupid an entirely new meaning. Your entire world has narrowed down to the sensation of his cock rutting between your legs, his balls grinding against your clit. Your release is winding up in your belly, and you feel your eyes roll and toes curl as it approaches.

“You been watching me, wanting this. If I’d known what a little spitfire you were, maybe I would have given it to you sooner-”

He rocks into you, his pace now rough and deliberate as he claims you in short, fast strokes. Your little workroom is filled with the unmistakable sound of slapping flesh, his hips snapping against your ass with every feral grunt. He has you pinned so firmly beneath him, every thrust feeling as though it’s punching right up into your chest. It aches, and that ache spreads throughout your pelvis, your belly. It’s warm and sweet as syrup. It feels like he's going to break you in half. You think you might want him to break you in half.

“Look at you go.” Quaritch mumbles, seemingly to himself, and then you feel the broad expanse of his hand slap against the soft flesh of your ass. It seems like he just wants to watch it jiggle as he ruts you like an animal. 

He leans forward, his sharp teeth grazing the shell of your ear as he murmurs to you.“This is what that limp-dicked bitch from earlier wanted with you, you know. Bet he imagined you just like this, all stretched out and wanting on that dildo he gave you. Little pervert. He wouldn’t know what to do with you. Think he’s outside listening? I bet all those cockless motherfuckers are listening right now, trying to imagine what you look like. Let them hear you, honey. Go on.”

It’s too much for you. Your elbows give out, your face smushing against the floor as Quaritch uses his grip on your hips to pull your ass back against him, his huge torso plastering itself against your back. His cock is spearing into you so deep that you feel as though you’re going to feel him inside you like this forever, feel the ghost of his cock plowing into you long after he’s gone. You feel every ridge, every vein, every throb.

“Oh god, oh fuck, shit, please!” You wheeze, shuddering as he fucks you into the floor. “I need to come, I need to come-”

You’re cut off from your babbling when one of Quaritch’s big, thick thumbs hooks into your mouth and presses down on your tongue. You moan, closing your eyes and sucking desperately at his stupid blue finger.

“Fuck, you’re hungry for it, ain’tcha.” Quaritch snickers, but he sounds breathless and a little disbelieving. “And here I was thinkin’ you were such a shy little thing.”

Just as suddenly as his finger had pushed its way into your mouth it’s removed, and you almost whine at the loss of it. But then, to your shock, you feel the spit-slick pad of his thumb stroking over the exposed rim of your asshole. He presses inside, the blunt thickness of his fat thumb wiggling inside as your whole body clenches around the intrusion hard.

With an overwhelmed scream, your entire body pulses like a heartbeat and your vision goes white. Your orgasm rocks through you like fire, as relentless and merciless as Quaritch’s rocking hips as he continues to fuck you through the quivers of your release.

“There you go,” He coos at you like you’re a goddamn animal. “Oh fuck, you needed this, didn’t you?”

Choked moans and hitched breaths bubble out of your mouth uncontrollably. It’s like he’s just been waiting for you to come, because now he loses that edge of controlled restraint that he’d managed to maintain. His thrusting is sloppy, uneven – he’s unmistakably nearing his own finish.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about, darlin’.” He snarls. “Look at you gushin’ all over my cock.”

You yelp as he buries himself deep inside of you one last time, a rumbling snarl tearing its way out of his throat. You can feel the ridge of his pubic bone against your ass, his muscular thighs bracketing your own. He is rooted to the hilt, burrowing as far as possible, and you choke at the sensation of impossible fullness.

Quaritch hisses like an animal when he comes, and you squeal at the feeling of his hot come splashing inside of you then overflowing. It’s so hot that it feels as though it’s burning, but Quaritch just keeps going, the squelching shamefully loud in the quiet of the room.

Soon you’re forced to reach back and slap at his hip, gasping for breath and whimpering under the onslaught of his spent cock rubbing so insistently at your hypersensitive sex.

“Enough, fuck! Enough!” You wheeze, your forehead dropping down against the floor in surrender.

There’s a pause, and then Quaritch stops moving, his slowly softening cock buried deep inside and staying there. The heavy weight of him feels good, and you go lax on the floor as his big hands hold you up so lazily. Your chest is still heaving as you try to regulate your breathing, and Quaritch makes a couple of condescending cooing sounds to keep you quiet as he rolls you over beneath him. 

“Ow, fuck.” You breathe when he pulls out of you, leaving you awfully empty and clenching around nothing as you feel the wet dribble of his come spill out of you.

He pauses, glances down at your cunt. You can imagine you look nothing short of ruined right now, but Quaritch seems to be immensely satisfied at whatever he sees. He chortles a soft laugh, and reaches down to stroke his fingers through the sticky mess he’s left between your legs.

Your head lolls on your shoulders as you swat at him, grumbling at the electric shiver that the oversensitivity sends through you. He just snickers at your weak attempt to smack his hands away, unphased, and closes his hands around your waist before bodily picking you up to hold you against his chest.

You groan, unhappy to be moved. “Jesus Christ, gimme a minute.”

He ignores you, snorting another quiet laugh before standing with you, unbothered by the way you hang limp in his arms as he carries you towards one of the desks. His breathing is slightly laboured, and he practically drops you on the surface of the desk as he reaches for the respirator that he seemed to have abandoned when he first came in. His determination to fuck you through atmosphere that he struggles to breathe in is admirable; the Na’vi may be able to breathe oxygenated air for up to an hour, but it can be a challenge and that’s without strenuous physical activity.

Still, you can’t help but snicker yourself.

“What's wrong, old man?” You crow at him, grinning as you lay splayed out and exhausted on the desk below him. “Out of breath?”

Quaritch takes deep breaths from the respirator, clearly trying to regulate his body again after so long without proper air, but he still manages to choke a faintly disbelieving laugh.

“You used to be so sweet.” He mutters, slapping lightly at your thigh. It’s not a harsh smack, just enough to have you jolting a little under him. “What the hell happened, huh?”

“You didn’t look twice at me when I was sweet.” You grumble, reaching down to push the skirt of your dress back down self-consciously. “So don’t go acting like you’re disappointed.”

Quaritch snorts. Respirator abandoned, he leans down and nips at your shoulder, grinning against your bared skin as you jerk and cry out ow, fuck.

“Mm, I like a bit of fire.” He mutters, allowing the respirator to hang down around his neck as he licks over the little bite mark he’s left. “But you’re wrong about me looking. I can’t say I didn’t like those little skirts.”

“Oh.” You breathe, starting to smile. “Okay.” A little flustered now, you start to push yourself up into a sitting position, embarrassed about your spread legs. “Um… where’s my underwear?”

Quaritch grunts as though he doesn’t care for the question in the least. “D’you need them?”

“Yes!”

That big, stupid smug grin again. You’d dearly love to smack it off his face, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still send butterflies fluttering in your stomach. He doesn’t make any effort to seek out your lost panties, but you can’t be too irritated with him when he keeps nipping so insistently at the base of your neck, leaving hot twinges of pain-pleasure in the wake of his mouth.

“Asshole.” You say, though without any heat. Your eyes slide closed, enjoying his rough tongue against your collarbones. “Hey. You never told me why you came looking for me, anyway. Was it just to laugh at me?”

Finally, Quaritch raises his head. This close, you allow your eyes to trace over his face; his features are so alien, big and bold and more expressive than he intends. His ears twitch, and you fight back a smile at the sight. Sweet.

“Brought you more of that damned plant water.” He grunts. “It’s on your desk.”

Your eyes widen, and you immediately try to sit up, pushing roughly at his chest. “What?”

Quaritch allows you to push him away, though it’s not without an irritated sort of groan. Still though, he doesn’t look annoyed as he steps back to allow you to scramble off the counter he’s had you propped up on. If anything, his swishing tail reveals his sense of satisfaction.

Your knees nearly buckle when you hop down on the floor, but Quaritch’s enormous hand wraps around your elbow and keeps you upright. You don’t pause to try and regain your balance – you’re too busy trying to stagger over to your own messy workspace, your eyes wide and fixated on the sight of a sample beaker perched atop your desk.

“No way. No fucking way-!” You crow, your face splitting into an irrepressible grin. “Holy fuck!”

If possible, this sample is even bigger than the one that Wainfleet and Fike had smashed all over your notes. You take it in with disbelief, your hands reaching for it eagerly.

“A sample this size will let me do all the tests I need for my dissertation and more,” You breathe, awed. “I can- oh, wow. I’m going to finish my whole thesis. I’m going to get my motherfucking PhD.”

Quaritch’s mouth quirks, clearly amused by your foul mouth. He leans back against one of the spare desks just so he can watch you fuss over the sample he’s brought. 

“Do I get something in return?” He asks, and you can feel his big golden eyes dropping down over the length of your legs. His gaze feels even more heated now, as though knowing exactly what’s under your dress has lit some sort of fire in him.

You snort, stepping over to the sample fridge with the beaker clasped very carefully in your hands. 

“You certainly do not.” You say archly, hoping to maintain an aura of aloofness as you tug the fridge door open and place your precious sample carefully inside. “As far as I’m concerned, this sample can be considered reparations. If you bring me a sample of panopyra sensory tissue, however… then we can talk about rewards.”

You half wonder if maybe that was too bold, but Quaritch’s next chuckle holds an edge of heated delight. It seems like he wasn’t lying about liking a little fire. You’re so distracted by the careful tucking away of your sample that you jolt when you feel huge blue hands coming to land at your waist, tightening over your hipbones.

When he leans in to murmur in your ear, you shudder helplessly at the rumble of his chest. 

“Sounds good to me, sweetheart,” He mumbles, a hand reaching to stroke boldly over the curve of your ass. “And maybe next time we can get going without you wearing this damn fridge as a hat.”

Two different people/players that need different things and react differently to tough situations. All is good, all reactions are valid 🫶

some of us need to fight while others need a hug and that’s ok.

Hello! Could I ask about scenario where The Joker has been very distant lately to Y/N always busy and almost never around her anymore which left reader very confused and upset. (((Now obviously he’s not cheating or anything like that he’s just too busy with his sick twisted plans on how to take over Gotham or something —but ohh well your insecurities get the best of you))). It’s been about good 3 months since she saw him he wasn’t replying to her texts and when you called him it always directed you to voicemails. It could be only two things he could’ve moved on from you or he is too damn busy to even pick up your calls…. So you decided to go on a date with some rando to push your feelings aside. Because at the same time, you couldn’t just sit around and wait for The Joker, that was just stupid. You aren’t even sure what’s going on?? It was exciting at first, in the heat of the moment because you were a bit attention-starved to be fair. But now as you’re getting ready you’re having second thoughts about it all and how risky it could be. Joker is a very very jealous and possessive man and he could be literally everywhere you knew he had his goons looming around you to make sure you’re safe. But you gulped those thoughts away and went out anyways. Well that was worst decision of your LIFE as long behold he found out …..now it’s up to you how you continue and interpret all this because I’m really bad at it (sooo sorry) he either ruins the date or is waiting for reader at her apartment….literally however you want it you can even change some stuff in the middle I really don’t mind 🙏🙏 I just need more jealous joker in my life (I have serious issues) it could be angst fluff smut🤭🤭🤭🤭or even everything as I said I really don’t mind. Thank youuuuu✨💕🪷

His Lighthouse: J Stands for Jealous (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

J Stands for Jealous - Oneshot

Did someone ask for some Jealous!Joker wayy back on Sept 5th? I come bearing gifts with an unexpected twist!! 🤧 please don’t hate me anon if you don't like it!

Get ready for some angst, fluff, and of course Jealous!Joker but not in the way you think... I won't lie this was a tricky request to fill but in the end, I went a different route with jealousy! I hope you enjoy! 🖤✨

taglist:

@blackreaderatrisk @twinkledinkle @clemdango04 @l3ejm @tears-of-amber @what-an-angel @darthjokerisyourfather @thatsnoteii @dollster @cheetahspy @kaidennnnn @urdariingdoll @motivation-idontknowher @ins0mniac-whack @spaghettificationandpretzels @reneisance @alittlesmartcookie @ninacutebee16 @carydorse

Let me know if you wish to be added to the official His Lighthouse taglist!

The number you have dialed has a voicemail box that has not been set up yet. Please try calling again later.

You groaned in frustration and tossed your phone on the bed. If your hair wasn’t up in protective braids you would’ve ran your hands through your hair. When did it get like this? Calling, waiting up, and wishing for a smidgen of communication from Joker– only to receive absolute silence?

Joker being distant was putting things mildly. He had up and ghosted you.

One night you were kissing him goodbye and the next GCN reported that Joker had gone M.I.A. Funny how he was seen two days later shooting at Batman’s tank of a car down Dini Hwy but sure.. Joker was ‘missing.’

Joker was actively terrorizing Gotham City streets, he was only M.I.A from your life. A part of you wanted to create a missing person’s report but that wouldn’t end well.

The entire GCPD force would be breaking down your door by the time you uttered, “Yes, I haven’t seen my boyfriend, The Joker, in months.

You weren’t quite sure who put a label on this ill fated relationship but the minute it was established, everything started to fall apart.

You would lie awake at night thinking about the downfall to you and Joker’s relationship. Maybe you should have been content with the uncertainty and kept things vague. Not knowing where you stood with the infamous clown— but still together, was better than a missing boyfriend and an empty bed.

You found yourself watching the news like a drug addict trying to catch a glimpse of your man to make sure he was alive and well.

Perhaps he was just busy with his sick twisted plans on how to take over Gotham or whatever he does when he’s out messing with Batman. You couldn’t bear the thought of Joker cheating on you.

If Joker was cheating on you with Batman, you’d kill your self with a spoon but J really wanted the vigilante dead so you breathed a bit easy on that front.

That didn’t stop you from freaking out anytime Joker grabbed a female on live tv. You watched with an envious eye for any inkling of Joker being attracted to her. Killing the poor girl put your mind at ease but then you’d feel awful for your lack of remorse. For now Joker had eyes only for you. But how long would that last was the burning question.

It became a vicious cycle of waiting for Joker to come home, calling his cell, it going to voicemail, or him straight up ignoring your texts, to crawling into bed and trying not to cry about it. But you couldn’t deny the inevitable.

Joker abandoned you and you weren’t some heartbroken blonde in an early 2000’s romcom.

You refused to cry and mope around the penthouse. You would not stoop to eating buckets of ice cream and gorging on assorted candies to overcome your heartache.

You happened to be a young, sexy, and intelligent woman of color with access to online dating apps! There were plenty of eligible men in Gotham who would kill to be with you.

You can and would move on. Screw Joker and his inability to provide basic necessities in a relationship. Being present was a requirement!

Your hurt feelings morphed into petty vengeance and you snatched your phone from where you tossed it earlier in a blind rage.

Your thumb hovered over Bruce’s profile until you sighed and scrolled past it. No matter how much you wanted to rebound date anyone to get over Joker, Bruce didn’t deserve your toxic energy.

So you kept scrolling until you found the DO NOT CALL EVER AGAIN and the GURL HAVE YOU NO STANDARDS contacts. You should have deleted these contacts ages ago but you simply forgot.

You almost hit the dial icon on one of them until you swore you heard the front door slam shut– but alas it was just your broken heart playing tricks on you.

Joker wasn’t coming back and you had to accept that to move on. Your thumb hovered over one of your past tinder hookups.

“This is stupid! Just call the number, Y/n. If he answers, then flirt! He’s a classic tool, he definitely won’t care if this is only a one night stand. Get what you need from him and onto the next one!”

Your pep talk was good but you just couldn’t commit. Even after Joker left you high and dry, it felt wrong to move on.

You threw your head back and groaned at the ceiling.

Why did you have to love Joker so much?! You still clung to the possibility of him returning and loving you unconditionally but that was a fool’s dream.

“He’s gone Y/n. Maybe a walk will help clear my head and do me some good.” It seemed to be a tried and true coping mechanism whenever your head was in a tizzy. It's what got you in this relationship in the first place.

You went out to clear your head and met Joker that fateful night. If the chance rose to go back in time and avoid meeting Joker, you’d hesitate to do so.

He gave you so many fond memories. You couldn’t erase that even if it saved yourself from heartbreak now.

You donned some good walking shoes that matched your current outfit and headed down to the ground floor.

It was a beautiful morning and you let your mind disconnect to breathe in some fresh air. This is what you needed. Some time spent outside and not cooped up in your depressing apartment thinking about your failed relationship.

You felt more like yourself already the longer you stayed out.

You were mindless during your wandering and didn’t notice your surroundings until strong hands grabbed and yanked you back onto the sidewalk.

You yelped at the unexpected rescue and tuned out the honking and the slew of curses a taxi driver shouted at you through his window.

What did your carelessness cause this time? You were using the designated crosswalk and you had the right of way, so what gives?

Your eyes followed the bulky arms still holding you, up to a handsome face animated in concern. It was then you noticed the guy who saved you was talking.

“—be more careful! These taxi drivers don’t yield to pedestrians anymore. Hey.. are you listening to me?” He eyed you up and down, mostly in concern but admiring your beauty all the while.

You were doing the same. A ray of sunlight beamed down and highlighted your hero’s honey brown eyes and you blinked in awe at his model-like features staring at you.

Finally someone was giving you attention and the man was drop dead gorgeous. Who could blame your brain for malfunctioning?

He smirked at your lack of response and flashed his pristine teeth your way. He was checking off all of your requirements for a potential partner so far or perhaps your standards were just at an all time low. A flaw of your separation anxiety no doubt.

Joker was the last thing on your mind when this man was in front of you giving you attention.

“Uh sure.. um.. T-Thank you.” You said after a few beats of awkward silence.

“Don’t thank me just yet. I gotta say, I’m thinking impure thoughts about you.” He said.

You quirked an eyebrow at his brute honesty although his baritone voice made you forget in an instant. You were a sucker for a sexy voice and much to your delight, he kept talking.

“Sorry, has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are? Because d__n. You are.”

Another checkmark on the ‘yup he’s datable list.’

What were the odds of someone as attractive as him showing you affection ever again? You were lonelier than ever before and quite frankly you were ready to risk it all for an ounce of attention.

You ducked your head to hide your smile and he wanted nothing more to tilt your chin up and see it in all its glory.

Your smile was so radiant, he was a goner at a mere glimpse.

“I’d love to know your name, your number..” He sucked his teeth and admired your beauty, “your favorite position in bed…”

He probably meant to say that last part more so to himself but you still heard it.

You had to pump the brakes on that one. “Easy there.. At least take me out to dinner before you slut me out.” You laughed in jest but he leaned into your personal space, taking your words seriously.

“Oh bet? What’re doing later?”

Wait, that pickup line actually worked? You were so out of practice.

You shielded the sun from your eyes and stared up at your newfound crush. He was waiting for a response with a flirtatious grin etched on his face. So you gave him an answer.

“You tell me. What do you have in mind?” You flashed him another smile that rivaled the sun.

He chuckled and subtly moved so he blocked the sun rays for you. A small gesture that you instantly noticed. He was tall but not overly so like Joker. You hated your brain for comparing this new guy to your estranged clown but you couldn’t help it.

Would this be a new habit; comparing insanity to normal? You really missed Joker..

“Confident and sexy. I like that. How about…” The guy dug inside his pockets and procured a business card. He clicked a pen and jotted something down on it before handing it to you.

You were so caught up in his charm that you didn’t acknowledge his attire.

He was dressed for the office with his dress shirt folded up to his forearms, showing off veins that made you swoon, and a hint of ink crawling up his bicep. The writer in you was having a seizure.

He was the perfect sexy corporate alpha male and he locked down the troupe by handing you his business card with a wink.

“Get home safely, call or text me– whichever you prefer sunshine, and we’ll make plans for tonight. Sounds good?” He waited until you read the embossed cardstock in your hand.

Tristan J. Price. | Marketing | Court OwlHouse Books

You knew the publishing company personally. They presented you with a nice offer before Cindy counter offered with a contract you couldn’t refuse. You pocketed his phone number and nodded.

“Yeah, it sounds great! I don’t have a card but um.. my name’s Y/n.” You played with one of your braids and went for it. “I’ll call you later, Tristan.”

He tested your name on his lips. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. I look forward to it.”

You gave him a small wave and began walking back the way you came. Something told you to look back and sure enough, Tristan was watching you leave, biting his lip. He had no shame at being caught. His smile just grew bigger as he sent another wink your way.

A whirlwind of butterflies were going crazy in your stomach. You finally had options besides Joker for a partner. Things were looking up for once after all these months spent alone.

You flushed in embarrassment and turned the corner– not once noticing your undercover security detail watching your every move and reporting in.

Above all, Tristan was a gentleman and a shameless flirt.

You didn’t waste time and called him the second you got home. He was more than pleased with your eagerness.

“I’m glad you’re home safe, sunshine. Now let’s talk business. Any allergies I need to be aware of? I really want to go all out and take you somewhere nice. You are definitely worth maxing my credit card.”

You laughed and tried not to let the nickname used get to you.

A subconscious part of you was still Joker’s Light, his bunny and every other pet name in between. You had no business being someone’s sunshine. It felt like you were betraying Joker.

Talking and flirting with someone else was an act of betrayal and you began to have second thoughts about all of this.

“Girl! Joker has clearly moved on! Get over him and let Tristan bend you over!” Your mini devil appeared on your coffee table and tried setting you straight.

She enlisted help from her arch nemesis and you were shocked when your figurative angel materialized next to her, nodding along.

“She has a point Y/n. It's been months. It's time to move on although.. I suggest taking this slow so no bending on the first date.” She glared at your imaginary devil in disdain.

Tristan stole your attention when he asked if you had been to a certain restaurant. You totally forgot you were on the phone with him! You were quick to reply and shake your head clear of any imaginary angel and devils talking to you.

You and Tristan talked all afternoon and at one point you asked if you were keeping him from work.

“Technically I’m on a very important conference call Y/n..”

You could see his flirtatious smirk over the phone and your heart warmed knowing you were important enough to take up his entire day.

You didn’t mind the long conversation since you've been alone for months and needed human interaction. You honestly didn’t care that things were progressing way too quickly with Tristan. It beat moping around with a broken heart and wishing for Joker to return.

Tristan was a breath of fresh air and offered you a new start in your dating life. You were ready to jump all in even if it was risky.

You nodded and answered his question. “Yeah Σtella is perfect. Will you make the reservations for us or let me guess. You know a friend of a friend that can get us a table on short notice?”

He laughed to himself but mentioned he did have connections, ‘None like that I’m afraid.’

You could tell the connections were nothing nefarious since Tristan didn’t have a single criminal bone in his body. After being around Joker for so long you could single out people’s evil intentions. It was one of the many habits you had to quit cold turkey.

It would take some time to purge Joker from your life but you had to. He abandoned you and you couldn’t dwell on it anymore.

Tristan ended the call to make the dinner reservations. He offered to pick you up but you politely declined.

Something told you it was best to keep him far away from the apartment until you knew for certain that Joker wasn’t coming back. You were still optimistic that your dark clown would return and things would go back to normal but until then, you had to fend for yourself and take care of your own needs.

A black dress was selected from your closet with a low back. It would go great with your braids and the heels you already picked out. You spent the rest of the afternoon getting ready and desperately trying to shake off your cold feet.

Halfway through your glam session, Tristan texted you with a time and a suggestive line about saving room for dessert.

It made you flush red and make a split decision to change your underwear into something more racy.

If tonight was just dinner that was okay but if Tristan turned out to be a man of action and not just all talk, then you wanted to be prepared. You could be a slut for one night. It’s secretly what you wanted.

You twirled in the mirror and liked what you saw. A strong confident woman moving on and taking the initiative.

You liked Tristan and he made it very clear that he liked you too despite just meeting earlier in the day. He wanted to see where this could go and you readily agreed being attention and touch-starved due to Joker’s absence.

You were ready to date again but you did stop and consider the possibilities of Joker finding out.

Joker was very possessive and he had eyes and ears all over Gotham City. It would be nothing for him to find out you were going on a date but his actions as of late showed that he didn’t care anymore. Joker ignored your numerous phone calls and texts.

Each one went unanswered. It was safe to say you were single now so you would act accordingly.

But with all the guesswork floating in the air, you weren’t going to think about Joker tonight. He was banned from your mind. Tonight you were going to have fun and enjoy yourself with another man and begin anew.

Tonight was about you and your needs. If Joker couldn’t provide, you’d go out and find someone who could. You kept that thought in mind all the way to the restaurant.

“I still think that waiter was staring at you too much. I get it, you are stunning– d__n, this dress will be the death of me– but my brother. She’s on a date with me. I’m the luckiest man alive!”

You tried your best to ignore his happiness and keep things cordial. The two of you had come to a stop at the main entrance to your apartment complex.

“This is me.” You pointed to the locked door.

Tristan admired the tall white building with a nod but there was an awkward air floating between the two of you. You just wanted to go home, Tristan was expecting more from the date.

Unfortunately Tristan was terrible at reading your body language. Or maybe you were just a good actress.

“Y/n did I mention how beautiful you look tonight?” It was a lame excuse to stay in your presence a little bit longer. You awkwardly laughed and dodged his hand reaching up to hold your cheek.

By all accounts dinner was textbook perfect. Tristan was ever the gentleman all night but his eyes were anything but. He listened to you talk and sprinkled in his opinions all the while complimenting you as a person.

There was a connection between the two of you and he made sure the conversation kept flowing to allow that spark to grow. Yet his eyes devoured you as if you were the main course and gave away his true intentions.

You wished his lust could ignite a flame within you; it didn’t.

The food was amazing and you lost the fight on who would foot the bill. Tristan simply winked and said you could pay next time.

He was so confident that there would be a next time, you found yourself almost agreeing on another date. Everything was just so natural with Tristan. Normal was… nice but you longed for the unpredictable insanity that Joker brought to the table.

You shook your head in frustration. No matter how much you tried to forget about Joker, he was always in the corner of your mind, bearing down with his larger than life presence.

Even in the restaurant you felt like he was watching your every move.

You knew Joker’s stretch of power knew no bounds. Your stomach was in knots at the thought of being discovered. Joker’s goons could be anywhere; Joker could be seated at any of these tables ready to ruin your date, kill everyone in the vicinity, and drag you back home.

The possibilities were endless and before you knew it, you were in the early stages of a panic attack until Tristan cupped your cheek and distracted you.

Tristan was right there with his suave demeanor and sultry smirks.

“You okay sunshine? I hope you’re not having second thoughts about the chef’s choice. If you don’t like it, you can always order something else.” He smiled in the low lit room.

Any girl would fall head over heels for a man like Tristan. He was attractive, successful, and he had an air about him that was alluring. He was the perfect man, that is, if you liked boring.

Joker spoiled you for other men. You could never go back to charming businessmen or witty accountants.

You didn’t want someone you could bring home to Mom. You were hooked on grease paint, cigarettes, heartache, and dark clowns that blew up hospitals for fun.

It was either before the main course or after one of Tristan’s stories about his latest project that you realized, this wasn’t going to work.

You smiled through the date out of respect and waited until he walked you home to let him down softly.

Tristan was a great guy, just not for you. Even worse the guy was oblivious to the fact you weren’t interested anymore.

He was unfazed by your chance in demeanor and flicked a wayward braid back over your shoulder. “I’ll tell you again, you are gorgeous. I'm kinda tempted to take this dress off and see what’s underneath. I bet she’s beautiful too.”

He moved in to hug you while you stiffened up in his arms. His attempts at flirting were now trashy and rude in your mind.

You didn’t want Tristan anymore. You wanted Joker’s warm arms holding you close— although gou felt awful for still craving Tristan’s attention. It was all you had. Could beggars be choosers?

Your hands wrapped around your date against your better judgment. You’d regret this later for sure.

Your eyes wandered around the area as you berated yourself for stringing Tristan along.

Hugging him back went against your plans of kicking him to the curb and going upstairs to sleep off this terrible date. Your citygirl plans of moving on were all for naught and you wasted perfectly good lingerie for a lame rebound date.

The street lights were on and oddly enough, it was just you and Tristan on the street. The area usually had foot traffic even at such a late hour but it didn’t register in your brain as odd. It was only when Tristan’s hands moved to cup your backside that you locked eyes with a figure across the way.

He had a hood on but you saw him shaking his head at you in disappointment.

He lifted his head and your eyes widened seeing the familiar clown mask Joker always left lying around the penthouse after heists. That’s when dread settled in your stomach.

You forgot Joker had eyes and ears everywhere. How could you be so stupid?

He never left. You yelped and pushed Tristan away.

“Woah! Is everything okay, sunshine?” Tristan held up his hands while you began to hyperventilate on the sidewalk.

You didn’t imagine things. Joker was still in your life. He was the most jealous man you ever met and you did the unthinkable and gave him a reason to be angry. You weren’t safe. Tristan's life was in danger.

“I-It’s not safe. I-I-I have to go…” You rambled on.

Tristan arched an eyebrow as you stumbled over your words. He couldn’t understand a word you were saying but he knew all too well what was going on here.

“I get it.” He smiled and gained your attention with his calm attitude. “I got competition, I’m not surprised. I mean look at you! You are… something else.” He frowned when you continued to look away.

He hoped he wasn’t being too forward but he felt the spark between the two of you.

Tristan leaned down and kissed you on the lips. It was passionate and sweet, a tad bit addictive but you were too mortified to acknowledge that aspect.

“Have a good night, Y/n. I’ll text you later.” Tristan gave you one more glance and walked away, leaving you frozen in place.

Tristan had it all wrong. There was no competition however he just signed his death certificate kissing you just then.

You were worried about your psychopathic, jealous boyfriend killing Tristan and then you for cheating. Joker had explicit rules. No one touches what’s his.

Not only did you go on a date with someone else, you let that same man kiss you. You knew exactly what was in store for you.

Your eyes darted back across the street where you last saw the goon. They were gone and that sent icy cold fear in your veins. It was only a matter of time that Joker found out about your little tryst.

You were counting the days to your death.

You couldn’t sleep to save your life.

It had something to do with the fact that you tossed and turned, gave up and paced the room back and forth, sat up expecting a phone call, text, heck; even a visit from your jealous clown all night. But nothing came.

Surely your security detail had already reported his findings to Joker.

If you opened a dictionary and searched for Jealousy, a picture of Joker would be present. It was only a matter of time before J flipped out. You kissed someone else. Joker would be livid.

The silent anticipation was the worst.

You chewed your nails to the quick expecting Joker to barge into your penthouse and go insane. Scared was an understatement. You were petrified of Joker’s wrath.

For two days, you walked on eggshells expecting Joker’s return. He didn’t and as the days grew in number, you panicked all the more.

Tristan also ghosted your phone calls and texts and you mourned the potential romance you gave up all because you were spooked.

You didn’t question what you saw that night. You knew Joker’s gang mask by heart and Joker was overly protective for it to be some fluke. He made sure you had a security team to watch over you at all times no matter the circumstances. He would find out soon enough.

Waiting for Joker’s arrival was driving you insane to the point that every little noise made you jump.

It was nearing a full week after your failed date when you gave up and lowered your guard. You cut your losses and decided to stop living in fear. A good nap could calm your nerves.

The remnants of the day were bleeding from the sky in warm pastels when you woke up. The room was quiet until the bathroom door opened and your eyes darted over in fear.

Joker was walking out the bathroom, already dressed in loose sweatpants and nothing else.

He was towel drying his hair but immediately locked eyes with your frightened ones once he stepped into the room.

Time stood still as your brain caught up with the moment. You weren’t dreaming. Joker was actually here. You weren’t ready to face him.

Granted this was not how you expected to reunite with Joker after three months of radio silence and especially after your brief moment of infidelity.

“J-Joker… you’re home.” Was all you could gasp out.

He looked the same albeit a bit fatigued. He was devoid of makeup, letting you see the pure exhaustion etched on his handsome features and the unmistakable hurt swirling in his vivid green eyes.

One look therein had you self aware. Of course Joker knew. Nothing got past him.

“Please, I-I-I can explain!! You were gone for months and I t-thought.. I thought you didn’t want me anymore. That you moved on! I was such an idiot! I.. Joker that date meant nothing no matter what your henchman told you–”

Joker said your name with such a dejected tone it made the hairs on the back of your neck bristle. “Y/n, shut. Up.”

Joker tossed his towel across the room and didn’t care that it barely landed on the leather couch before falling to the floor.

He’d worry about that later. His Light was on the verge of hysterics and he was not in the mood.

Joker walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. He sighed when you flinched from his touch but he cupped your brown face in his hands nonetheless.

“Y/n. Calm down and look at me.” You slowly opened your eyes to glance at J. He was patiently waiting, blinking owlishly at you with an unreadable look.

You couldn’t get a good read on Joker and that made you fear him more. Joker noticed and decided to go about this as plainly as possible to not scare you further. The last thing he wanted was you to fear him.

“I know about your… date. ‘M not mad at you doll, rather…. at myself for allowing it to happen. Ya see.. I never wanted to leave.” He sighed.

You blinked in confusion but let Joker continue.

“I didn’t abandon you Y/n. Never. I’ll never do that. I got caught up in a errr.. pickle.. that kept me from my Light. I stayed away to protect you.” Joker’s thumbs gently stroked your cheekbones as you looked at him in shock.

His rare genuine smile spoke volumes. “It was toooo risky to come back soooo I stayed away. I tried to message ya but it was sabotaged and…. The point is Y/n! It was not my in-tent-ions to leave you all alone. I will always come back to my Light. Believe that pretty girl.”

You felt like the biggest fool in all of Gotham. Joker was out risking his life to make it back to you and you gave up on him.

How was he not angry? It didn’t make any sense.

“You weren’t there. You were gone for months and I felt so alone. I was hurt and…” You tried not to get emotional but Joker’s gentle touch and the way he stared straight into your soul with those abnormal green eyes of his was getting to you.

Joker’s soothing touch had you breaking down in record time.

“I couldn’t help myself! T-Tristan didn’t mean anythi–”

In seconds Joker’s tender hold on you turned aggressive. His hands slid down to your throat and squeezed tight before you could finish your sentence. Your startled gasp rang out in the room.

“Don’t.. ever say another man’s name in front of me! I’ll kill him. I’ll do it. You. Are. Mine. You got that?” Joker waited until you croaked out a yes before loosening his grip. It was then you saw just how jealous Joker really was. His calm, cool, and collected attitude was all an act.

Underneath his exhaustion was the Jealous psychopath you knew and loved.

He sighed and let go to fuss over you. He smoothed your braids in place and nodded to himself when you were presentable and breathing properly. You were frozen in shock. He didn’t even hesitate hurting you.

Joker’s fluctuating mood was befitting his personality but it still made you wary. You eyed him sideways and Joker whined knowing you were thinking bad bad thoughts about him.

“M’sorry bunny I just… Argh! You just needed some attention, I. Get. It.. I’m not angry. I’m. Not. Hey.. ya wanna know a little secret?” You slowly nodded and Joker smiled wide before leaning in, almost as if he were to whisper in your ear.

“It was torture for me too. All those nights spent a-parT? Mmm I was thinkin’ about you.” His fingers played with yours resting in your lap.

“Really?” You asked.

Your mind quickly forgot about his random spurt of anger a moment prior, in favor of his suggestive tone at present. Joker was here and he was finally giving you attention. What more could you ask for?

He knew you loved his hands (and he knew you were touched-starved) and made sure to keep contact with you as he spoke.

“I missed my Princess and I knoooooow–” He yawned mid sentence, “..you missed me. C’mere, my Light. I wanna hold ya.”

You hid your smile witnessing Joker be so unguarded and so unlike himself. You could tell he didn’t sleep at all these past few months. Dark circles weighed down his gorgeous eyes and he literally made grabby hands at you. It was refreshing to know you weren’t the only one touch-starved here.

Joker was the world’s lightest sleeper. He could only sleep a full eight hours if he had his Bunny to cuddle up with. You had just woken up yourself but Joker needed his rest and he needed you.

You fell into his arms and he quickly maneuvered the both of you so he lied on the bed with you nestled on his side. You tossed your leg over Joker’s hips and he held it there, rubbing his hands along your plushy thighs.

His hands became restless and began re-tracing all of your curves, (as if he could ever forget them in such a short amount of time) and came to a stop at the crown of your head. He hummed contently and left a kiss in your hair.

“I’m sorry you felt alone, Bunny. The plan wasn’t supposed to take that long ‘n especially not months. I can’t promise I’ll be able to return quickly, but I will always come back to my Light. Just… just don’t give up on me, mkay?”

You nodded and glanced up at Joker. His eyes were closed, yet you knew his focus was solely on you. To prove your point, he opened his eyes and stared directly at you.

His emerald green eyes were drowsy but you could tell his words were sincere. His unique speech pattern was nonexistent the longer the conversation went. You had a raw and honest Joker lying beneath you.

So you decided to be honest in return.

“I promise, J. I won’t give up on you. I only want you.”

“Gooooood.” He closed his eyes again and repositioned his head better on the pillows. “Cuz no one touches what’s mine. Expect your uh.. punishment later.” He yawned.

“What?!!” You tried to get up but Joker’s arms tightened around you, keeping you lying atop of him. You wiggled in his grip and he growled in warning.

“J, I thought you said you weren’t mad at me!”

He didn’t see you pouting, however his hand still came down hard on your thigh. The sharp sting made you yelp in shock.

“I’m. Not. But ya still need to L-earn a lesson. My bunny can’t be sneakin’ off and.. playing with others while I’m away. Tsk. Tsk. I’ll uh f__k ya when I wake up. OH! You should rest too. Heh, you’ll need your energy.”

His warning hardly held any weight with the boyish grin plastered on his face. Without his clown makeup, Joker was a sight to behold.

You would prepare yourself for his tough love later. Right now you wanted to bask in Joker’s presence.

Three months was too long without him.

You snuggled up closer to your clown and began running your fingers through his hair. He loved when you did that. He was already snoring by the time you leaned up to kiss one of his scars.

“I’m just glad you're back.” You whispered. 

cold feet

caitlin clark x black!reader

A/N: this isn't my first time writing, just my first time writing and publishing it publicly like this! hope you guys enjoy it!!! let me know what you think!

-

you stood attempting to block the glare of the sun from your eyes with your bouquet in hand. 

“kate it’s fucking hot. why did we let her choose to have a wedding in hell’s kitchen?” you questioned, leaning toward the blonde who suppressed a laugh.

“stop it. caitlin’s literally getting married. hold the jokes in for 10 more minutes.” she whispered, elbowing you lightly as you rolled your eyes playfully, looking toward your best friend who stood in a white wedding gown with her hair pinned behind her ears. 

she looked stunning 

“do you connor mccaffery take caitlin elizabeth clark to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the priest questioned as you stood just a few feet away, a heavy feeling in your chest suddenly. 

caitlin turned around, glancing at you and kate with a small smile, her face being struck with something as she turned back around. 

“i do. i really do.” he said, looking toward you as your body stiffened. you never really liked him, and frankly he triggered your fight or flight, but caitlin was you best friend, so as long as she was happy, you stood by her. 

“and do you, caitlin elizabeth clark, take connor mccafferey to be your lawfully wedded husband?” 

“i-“ she began, pausing briefly and glancing to her parents and brothers who sat in the audience, your eyebrows knitting in confusion as she hesitated. 

“caitlin?” the priest questioned as she dropped connor’s hands, whispering before backing away and running down the aisle, the train of her dress in her hands. 

“wait what the hell just happened?” you questioned aloud, looking toward connor as he ran his hands through his hair, turning toward the groomsmen as you look between kate, anne, and brent.

-

you stood outside the bridal suite, kate, caitlin’s parents and brothers behind you as you knocked lightly. 

“coco? it’s just us, let us in! are you okay?” you asked softly, leaning against the door, hearing sniffles from the other side. 

“honey, we just wanna talk. what’s going on?” anne questioned, stepping closer as you listened to a sob escape from her mouth. 

“i don’t wanna talk mom. just- leave me alone!” you heard, her voice receding as you assumed she walked away from the door. 

“caitlin. we just wanna help. if it’s just cold feet-“ kate began, a sudden bang being heard against the door, heavy enough to be a shoe.

“go away! leave me alone!”

“okay, well i’m not dealing with her bullshit today. i stood out in the sun for her. kate hold my flowers.” you spoke, shoving them into the girls chest as you ripped a bobby pin from your hair, leaning down to pick the lock. 

hearing the click, you swing the door open, stepping into the room and scanning with your eyes. 

you spot her curled up on the balcony, her legs pulled to her chest. 

“hey guys, give me a minute. i wanna see something.” you say softly, receiving nods of approval, shutting the door behind you. 

“caitlin?” you ask, watching as she jumps noticing your figure.

“how’d you get in here? get out!” she exclaims, rising to her feet as you show off the pin in your hand. 

“you taught me how to pick a lock, if there’s anyone to blame, it’s you.” you joked, registering the runny makeup on her face as a smile formed on her face. “what’s going on coco? if you won’t talk to your parents, talk to me.” you encourage, moving some pillows from the couch and sitting down as she cautiously makes her way toward you. 

“promise you won’t tell?” she ask, her attitude a bit lighter as you give her a knowing look, patting the seat beside you. 

“i haven’t told a soul your secrets since grade school clark. start talking.” you said leaning back as she began to pull pins from her hair, getting frustrated as you moved to help. 

“i just. i hesitated. i have love for him, but when it came down to saying i do. i mean, i don’t think i can marry him. so many thoughts flashed through my mind. i know he’s not your favorite person in the world, and he made me happy for so long. my family loves him, and he loves me. i know that. but it just went through my mind that he can’t be it for me.” she said, twiddling with her hands, a nervous habit of hers as you placed a hand on top in comfort. 

“do you think there’s any chance of this being cold feet? you’ve been so excited. you had me up at 6AM picking out flowers, i flew out to new york to pick up your dress because you had a game. i’d do it all over again a million times, because i love you. but are you sure?” you ask, watching as fresh tears brim in her eyes

“there’s also been something else on my mind, and it’s kind of scary to think about. but um, i’m not sure how long it’s been a thing for me. but i just haven’t found him attractive, in like any way lately. i’ve had the shortest fuse, and we brushed it off as wedding stress, but i don’t know.” she said, letting out a sigh, laying across your lap. 

“so you guys are in a rough patch. that happens, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t marry him. you do love him caitlin.” you reassure as her body shoots up, her eyes shifting toward you, red and puffy. 

“what no- i don’t. i realized i don’t love him the way that i love you.” she responded, biting at the skin on her lip as you felt your breath get caught in your throat. “i thought. maybe it was the same type of love that i had for kate, but it was just different because i've known you since we were kids. but i love you. i realized that at the end of the day, i want to be with you, always. when we’d talk about kids, our kids separately started to become our kids. i want to grow old with you, and do life with you. i want to fall asleep in your arms and wake up in them. i miss that. i miss that feeling that i got back in high school during sleep overs, not realizing that that same feeling is what i felt croatia.” she spoke, your mind rewinding to the summer in croatia where you along with most of the team got pretty tipsy, caitlin included.

you believed yourself to be a pretty decent drinker, being able to handle your alcohol, but there was something about croatia that had you waking up the next morning with a naked caitlin curled into your side. 

you had talked about it, remembering bits and pieces, but came to the conclusion that it was drunken curiosity. 

“i’ve thought about that night, or at least what i can remember, every night since it happened. i can’t get it out of my mind, and i honestly don’t think i ever wanted to. i can’t marry him, because im in love with you.” 

“so what do you want to do?” you questioned, caitlin scooting closer as you took a breath, processing the information. 

“do you love me? in that way?” she asked, her voice barely audible as you suppressed a smile, giving a slight nod. 

“yeah i do. i’ve loved you since we were 15. but you’ve had a pretty solid record sheet with guys and showing me that you’re straight, or so i assumed. so i just accepted it and let it go.” you stated transparently, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she leaned into your hand. 

“you have no clue how happy that makes me. i also don’t care if you’re not ready for marriage yet, i know i said yes to this whole thing, but i feel like it’s because i felt like i needed to. i’d walk down the aisle with you in a second, but i get if you’re not ready.” 

“im not. but i think i will be sometime soon. what do we do from here?” you question, a lot of the tension in the room subsiding, watching her brown eyes roam the room. 

“come here.” was said as you’re pulled down to the floor in front of the couch, a giggle escaping your lips as she crawled in her dress across the room, grabbing a stack of papers from the coffee table. 

“what are you doing? you have people waiting for you to get married, or at this point announce that you’re not.” you say, reprimanding the girl as she rips the paper apart, rolling up small pieces. 

“just give me a second. okay, give me your hand.” she demanded, offering a hand before slipping a makeshift paper ring on your empty ring finger. “there. it’s like high school, but instead of promising to be each other's best friends, i’m promising to give you more than that.” a smile on her face as a knock is heard on the door. 

“caitlin? babe?” is heard as your eyes widen, watching her breath intake sharply. 

“is it bad that i forgot about him?” she questions, a fearful look on her face as you smile, standing to your feet. 

“talk to him, talk to your parents. i’m going to go talk to kate, and we’ll let everyone know there will be no wedding.” you say, helping her to her feet with a smile, turning on your heel. 

“hey. wait.” she said quickly, turning toward her as she presses a kiss to your lips, grasping your face with both hands before pulling away. “i love you”

-

you sat awkwardly in the lounge, kate staring at you from her spot on the couch. caitlin had bought her family and connor in at the same time to talk to them and the guests were dismissed from the ceremony but invited to enjoy the catered food they had planned on serving.

you felt anxiety in the pit of your stomach, shifting in your chair as kate continued to stare, her eyes narrowing. 

“kate stop looking at me like that.” you demanded, frustration in your tone as she churned her head, smiling softly. 

“you guys fucked in croatia didn’t you?” she questioned, your eyes widening at the question. 

“KATE!” 

“i knew it! you were both walking around weird that morning, the tension on that plane ride was crazy. but i’m assuming her calling the wedding off was for more than just a one night stand?” the blonde quizzed as you nodded silently. 

“she loves you, doesn’t she?”, another nod of the head. 

“i kept telling her she was gay, she kept denying it. i was right! but seriously, i think this will work out. maybe not right now with everything going on, but it will.” 

you heard the door open, turning to watch as connor stormed out, his face red as you could tell he’d been crying, followed by caitlin whose face was also tear stained and her family trailing behind her.

“so are you guys getting married or did i buy this suit for nothing?” colin jokes, walking and plopping down next to you, throwing an arm around your shoulder as he leaned against you, pressing a soft kiss against your head. 

“colin leave her alone. this is definitely news, but you’re still family and we don’t love you any less. if you guys are happy, then that’s all we can pray for. it’ll take some getting used to, but i feel like it’ll feel like our normal in no time.” anne speaks, offering a smile as she places a hand on your shoulder, brent nodding along. 

“and hey, i don’t have to sit through a boring reception dinner. no offense cait honey.” brent says, caitlin waving him off as she grins at you. 

“i think we should go see what’s left from the catering, and go back to the hotel. also let’s make sure connor isn’t starting world war 3 on twitter and try and relax.” kate suggest, standing and squeezing caitlin’s shoulder as she smiles at you. 

 “ i think that sounds good.” you agreed, standing to your feet as caitlin mirrored you. 

-

you stood staring at the different options, the room pretty empty except for you, kate, caitlin, and her immediate family. there were still some stragglers, but it looks like most people either just left, or took food to go and were on their way. 

you felt a hand on your lower back, turning to see caitlin standing beside you, a soft closed smile on her face as she leaned into the crook of your neck. 

“thank you. for everything.” 

“of course, you’re one of my favorite people in this world.” you say, her hair falling down your shoulder as she hugs you. 

“do you think connor would be okay with me taking you to australia over him?” 

“i don’t think he really gets a say if you and your family paid for most of the wedding.” 

“wait you’re so right. where’s my phone?” she questioned as you gave her a warning look knowing her notifications would be a war zone themselves. 

“let’s just get some cake right now. yeah?” you suggested in place as she pulled away, a bit of a pout on her face as she agreed to your statement, picking up a plate of her own. 

“hey. i love you. like a lot.” she says, a smile resting on your face as you hummed. 

“i assumed you did, otherwise i don’t think you would have left your fiancé at the alter for me.” you joke, hearing her laugh loudly in response as she presses her forehead to yours, a bright grin on her face. 

“i’m glad we figured out it wasn’t just cold feet.” 

Can't stop thinking about Captain John Price, your good friend's boyfriend, listening to you talk about how you are considering getting a guard dog, and he whole-heartedly agrees with you. John likes you, you're a fantastic friend to his dove and you're sweet, and sweet girls do need protection. So he nods along and tells you he'll look into getting you one, a big one to protect you.

Two weeks later, you're invited to your friend's house, her telling you days before that John might have gotten you a dog, so to prepare! She wasn't sure, he just hinted at it on the phone.

Tell me why, after knocking at your bestie's door, she opens kinda pale and awkward, maybe even a little bit annoyed, inviting you in. Instead of a proper, legit, literal dog, John introduces you to Simon Riley, who stands there awkwardly but tall and intimidating while your friend apologizes, calling her boyfriend an idiot. But John isn't an idiot. For a while now, he thought you'd be perfect for his Lt., this just a funny way to introduce you both. And the only thing that took Simon to agree (after a sharp yet bored no when firstly asked) was to send him a picture of you at a bar, smiling.

Extra:

"So... you come with a leash?" You joke with the tall man, whose eyes wrinkle in amusement. He has been more on the silent side although very atentive, his intense brown eyes on you all evening. Now that you were both alone at the balcony, abandoned by the two love-birds, you tried to ease the tension.

"I don't do leashes but I can pull a spiky collar." He smiles as you giggle. Hell, he felt relief that you did. Even happiness...

"Yeah, it would fit you."

"Yeah?" His voice was low and buttery. "What about a tag with your name on it?" He leans down a little, just enough in your personal bubble, and your stomach flipped. You felt your cheeks warm.

"Can it be heart shaped?" You stare prettily at him and all he can do is to snort to ease the tension.

"However you want it." His reply was quick, eager.

"Deal. But first take me on a proper date."

"Perfect." He smirks.

𝚗𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which the next chapter begins

new york city hums like it knows what’s about to happen. there’s a kind of electricity in the air, thick with promise and nerves, and as your driver weaves through the busy streets, you watch paige take it all in from the backseat—her face turned to the window, hood pulled over her head, hand clasped tightly in yours.

“this doesn’t feel real,” she murmurs, eyes wide as they track the towering buildings, the people, the energy. “like, i’m actually here.”

you squeeze her hand. “you’re not dreaming, bueckers.”

she smirks, still dazed. “you sure? 'cause being in new york with you, about to get drafted number one… i must’ve done something right.”

you look at her—at the soft awe in her voice, the nerves she’s trying to hide—and smile. “you earned all of this.”

she leans over and kisses the back of your hand. “wouldn’t be here without you.”

the hotel lobby smells like roses and money. a few of the other top picks are checking in, media reps scattered around, coaches from various teams exchanging polite nods. paige walks in with her backpack slung over one shoulder like she’s still in college, but she’s greeted like a queen.

people look at you too—curious, trying to place you. her plus one, but not a public one. not yet.

upstairs, the suite is stunning. floor-to-ceiling windows, champagne already chilling in a silver bucket on the table, and a view of manhattan that would knock the breath out of anyone.

paige walks straight to the window. “god,” she whispers. “how am i supposed to sleep tonight?”

you wrap your arms around her from behind. “you won’t. and that’s okay.”

the next few days are a whirlwind of cameras and flashing lights, pre-draft interviews, and moments stolen in between where paige clings to you like you’re the only thing keeping her grounded.

you walk with her to early press calls, watch her shake hands with executives and talk to reporters with the perfect balance of humility and fire. she rides up the empire state building in an elevator full of pr staff, but she only holds your hand. at the top, she stands by the glass and whispers, “feels like the whole world’s watching.”

“they are,” you say, brushing your fingers against hers. “and they’re about to see what happens when a star rises.”

the suite becomes a glam studio before the sun even rises. stylists, makeup artists, wardrobe specialists—all bustling around paige while she sits in the middle of it all, cross-legged in a robe, sipping coffee like she isn’t about to have her life change forever.

her stylist calls you over as you’re about to change into the outfit you packed.

“actually,” she says, holding up a garment bag. “this is for you.”

you blink. “that’s not mine.”

“it is now. paige picked it out. said it had to be perfect.”

your chest tightens as you unzip the bag, revealing a dress so perfectly you, it feels unreal. the fabric is soft, expensive, and the color—something muted and romantic—brings out your features in a way you didn’t even know was possible.

“she did this?” you whisper.

“she wanted you to feel special today too.”

you change in the bathroom, hands shaking slightly. when you finally step out, paige is standing near the window, fully dressed in a glittery-dark colored custom suit that has her shimmering with every step, her curls falling effortlessly over her shoulders.

she turns—and everything slows.

her mouth parts. “holy... you look…”

you laugh, flushed. “you too. you clean up alright, bueckers.”

she walks up to you, cups your jaw gently. “you’re unreal. thank you for being here today.”

“there’s nowhere else i’d be.”

the red carpet outside the venue is chaos—reporters, photographers, wnba legends, fans with signs, people shouting paige’s name like it’s already etched into history.

you try to stay a step behind her, to let her soak in her spotlight, but she won’t have it. her hand wraps around your waist and stays there. through the cameras, the chaos, the interviews—she keeps you close.

you’re standing just off to the side when the espn interviewer waves paige over for a quick one-on-one. the camera is rolling, and you make a move to step back, but paige pulls you forward by the hand.

the interviewer smiles knowingly. “paige bueckers! big night. how are we feeling?”

paige smiles back, calm and radiant. “excited. grateful. nervous. all of it.”

“you’re projected to go number one overall—does that add pressure?”

“a little,” she admits. “but i try to block it out. i’m here to soak it in and be present.”

the interviewer nods, glancing at you briefly. “and you’ve got some company tonight. can we ask who your date is?”

paige glances your way, and you feel her fingers squeeze yours.

“she’s someone very special to me,” paige says, voice even but warm. “we’re here to celebrate the moment. that’s what tonight’s about.”

“so… are you confirming you’re in a relationship?”

she chuckles, not flustered at all. “i’m confirming that i’m not doing tonight alone. that’s all you get.”

“alright, alright,” the interviewer laughs. “we’ll take it.”

twitter explodes five seconds later.

inside the venue, the lights dim and the countdown begins. you sit beside paige, her hand still wrapped in yours like a lifeline. her leg bounces. her breath hitches every time someone coughs into a mic.

“paige,” you whisper, turning to her. “hey. breathe.”

she nods, but doesn’t look at you. her eyes are on the stage.

“whether you go first or fifth,” you murmur, pressing your forehead to hers, “you’re still the most incredible person in this room. and i’ll be just as proud no matter what.”

her eyes flutter closed. she exhales.

“promise?” she whispers.

“promise.”

then the lights shift. the wnba commissioner walks to the podium. the music swells.

“with the first pick in the 2024 wnba draft, the dallas wings select… paige bueckers, university of connecticut.”

the room erupts.

paige turns to you—eyes wide, heart on her sleeve—and she kisses you.

right there. full, gentle, and certain.

the room falls silent for a heartbeat, and then explodes again.

@/espnw: she’s the number one pick. she also just kissed her girl on live tv. paige bueckers is here.

@/wnba: #1 pick. #1 moment. paige bueckers delivers the most unforgettable draft night kiss of all time.

@/bleacherreport: paige bueckers. first pick. first public kiss. iconic.

@/gaysportsnerd: so like… when do we get the engagement photos?

@/dallaswings: welcome to dallas, @/paigebueckers!

@/overtime: not just #1 on the court. paige bueckers just dropped the most iconic draft night moment of all time.

@/chennedyfan99: paige bueckers said “i’m number one and i’m in love, what about it?”

later, after the cheers settles and the cameras stop flashing, paige wraps her arms around you on the balcony of the hotel suite. new york glows behind you, and she leans her head on your shoulder.

“i didn’t plan the kiss,” she says softly.

“i know.”

“but i meant it.”

“i know.”

she turns her face to yours, brushing your cheek with her nose. “i want to be number one in everything. including with you.”

“you already are,” you whisper. “you always have been.”

she smiles, soft and golden. “forever, huh?”

“hell yeah.”

mark looks like the type of guy to say he’s drinking coffee but is actually drinking hot chocolate w extra marshmallows

I remember y’all coming to my inbox saying that Paige looks like she lost all her muscle and for that I give you this picture

they’re just like me fr

i want both🤷🏻‍♀️