Advocate For Weird And Pathetic Girls

i've just hugged oscar isaac and he told me i'm sweet (i placed my hand on the back of his hair and made him laugh showing i have poe in the back of my phone)

i've died dead

incendiary | 4 | bakugou x reader

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

length: 4.5k of ~23k / 4th of 8 chapters

summary: When you accidentally go viral in defense of quirkless people, an extremist group puts a target on your back. Pro hero Dynamight is the last person you want watching it.

tags: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, light hurt/comfort

warnings: themes of discrimination (please see note in fic masterpost), canon typical violence, eventual smut, aged up characters

notes: Please see my notes in the fic masterpost.

The next thing you registered was a strange warmth on the side of your face, the rasp of someone’s breath across your cheekbone.

“Oi—brat, you’re fine, just breathe.” A rough voice filtered into your consciousness.

Your eyes fluttered open, only to be encountered with a handsome face far too close to yours. Bakugou was crouched over you, and you’d somehow been shifted more fully over one of his arms, balanced against a thigh, so that one of his hands could cup your face.

Behind him, the yellow light of the hallway limned the spikes of his hair in a rusty gold, casting his face in shadow. Your legs were crumpled uselessly between his body and the floor, numb.

“What—?” You demanded blearily.

“Look at me, princess,” Bakugou said, gently turning your face more fully towards his. His mouth had thinned to a grim line.

“Now take a deep breath,” he ordered. He breathed in deeply as if in demonstration.

It took you a couple seconds to process what he was saying, and then a few more to follow orders, almost as if you’d forgotten how to operate your own lungs. Air punched into your chest like a blow to the sternum. Bakugou took another breath, ordering you to do the same.

It took a couple seconds more, but eventually you took another one, and then another and another. The two of you sat like that for a few long minutes, Bakguou scrutinizing your every breath closely, eyes flicking between your face and your chest as you heaved air in. Once he was satisfied that you’d fallen into the familiar rhythm of breathing again, he shifted you back into his arms.

“Gonna get you back inside, princess. You need to lay down.” His voice was gruff but he didn’t sound as angry as he usually did. His imperious, assertive tone didn’t even annoy you—you had the wild thought that you were grateful for once, that he might know what he was doing.

The realization that you’d lost a minute or two disturbed you more than you’d ever understood it would, watching movies where somebody passed out, reading stories where maidens swooned in the company of handsome gentlemen. You didn’t know why more people didn’t talk about how unnerving the experience was.

Despite yourself, you huddled a little bit closer to Bakugou, relieved you were in the company of a pro hero. You didn’t want to think about what might have happened if you’d needed to stumble back to the safehouse on your own.

Your gut shifted as Bakugou picked you up again, and you had trouble focusing on the doors as you passed them, the hall a strange kind of yellowed blur. But soon enough Bakugou was kicking in a door, crossing a kitchen, and laying you out on a familiar couch.

He pulled up a blanket over you, and it occurred to you once the warmth settled over you that you had been cold—and that you were giving tiny, almost imperceptible little shivers. You had the vague impression that this annoyed you.

“Breathe, idiot,” Bakugou said again, and you startled, not realizing he’d rounded behind the couch. You heard his boots stomp into the kitchen, the clatter of cabinets and clank of some kitchenware.

You did as he said, heaving in another breath, and then another. You focused on the feeling, the even flow of air in and out, fresh and clear in your lungs. You must have zoned out, because the next thing you knew, Bakugou’s face was filling up your entire vision. His eyebrows were knit, mouth tight, and eyes burning into yours—but he didn’t look angry, exactly. He got a hand under your below, helping you sit up.

Then something warm was being shoved against your hand, a leafy, almost floral scent meeting your nose, and you looked down to see a mug of tea being pressed into your palm.

“Drink it, brat, you’re still shivering,” Bakugou commanded.

You couldn’t dredge up the will to argue, too wrung out, and you took an obedient sip. A shiver went down your spine as the heat flooded onto your tongue. It was so strangely warm, in a way that you had never appreciated before, like every single one of your nerve endings were instantly concentrated in your mouth.

Then the strange feeling shifted, and all of a sudden, some strange, nameless emotion welled up in your chest. Tears pricked the corner of your vision.

You blinked rapidly, horrified you were about to start crying in front of Bakugou. You struggled to free your other hand from your blanket, but he caught it before you could raise it to wipe your face.

Your eyes darted to his, startled.

Bakugou’s brows drew together. “It’s….you’re fine, princess. ‘S normal.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “W–what?”

He looked uncomfortable.

“Fucking everyone is a crybaby with shit like this. You’re not special. It’s fine,” he said again, gruffly. You watched the minute shift of his expression, the downward pull at the corner of his mouth. You’d have said he looked almost concerned, if you didn’t know better.

You shifted in embarrassment, not fully understanding why this was such a big deal for you. You’d handled assholes like this before—though no one had outright attacked you since you were kids, taking out their parents’ prejudices on you in the sandbox, before any of you really understood what you were struggling in the dirt for. Maybe that was it.

Outside the window, you could hear the shift of wind in the scraggly trees, the loud chatter of a group passing by. Tears kept pooling in your vision, turning the room into a blur. You took a few deliberate, calming breaths.

“Those guys,” you finally managed. “I don’t know why I’m so…It’s not the first time something like that has happened, but….I don’t know why I’m being so dramatic.”

Bakugou scoffed, startlingly loud in the quiet of the safehouse. “Whatever. Those guys are fucking assholes.”

The baldness of his observation startled a bitter laugh out of you.

You’d assumed he was the same, before he’d come for you.

You hadn’t had a second to really think it through yet, but now that you did—Bakugou had interfered at the convenience store. You’d assumed he had it out for you, but he’d come charging in, figurative guns blazing, and gotten those two douchebags up against the shelving in five seconds flat.

He saved your life as far as you could tell.

But…that didn’t explain why he had been such an asshole to you this whole time, too. He might have saved your life but there was something significant underlying all those weeks of judgment, those sulky silences.

“You’d probably know,” you muttered uncharitably, unable to keep the exasperation out of your tone. The way he’d spoken to you earlier still smarted, and you could still feel a little of your previous anger hot in your veins.

“Oi—” Bakugou said. He leaned down to try to catch your eye again but you jerked your face away quickly.

The couch dipped down next to you, and then Bakugou was kneeling in front of you, shoving his face right into yours again. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, brat?” He demanded.

Your heart rate kicked up with his proximity, blood bubbling into a simmer. He was wearing that pissy little expression again, and your jaw suddenly ached with the familiar need to bite him.

“You know exactly what it means, Bakugou,” you said tightly.

Bakugou made a noise of disbelief. “I just saved your ass, you shitty fucking brat, what the hell is wrong with you!” His expression twisted again into something ugly and angry.

“You want to know what it means?” You demanded. “It means you’ve been an asshole the entire time we’ve been here, Bakugou! You might have saved me but I am abundantly clear that you hate me too. That’s all I’m saying.”

Bakugou’s expression clouded over. “I don’t hate you, you overdramatic little shit. You’ve been up my ass about that since we got here and you still don’t fucking know anything.”

You threw your hands up, sloshing your tea around violently as you did. Some spilled down your hand and over your wrist, scorching hot, and you bit down a swear.

“So you keep telling me,” you said. “I don’t know what I’m talking about, I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know anything! If that’s so true then why don’t you explain it to me, huh? You’ve hated me since the second you laid eyes on me, you refused to take on this assignment to protect me, you’ve been giving me nothing but attitude since we got here, and you even blamed me for what happened in the first place!”

Your mind was jerked back to those sandboxes, sidewalks, rough hands and scraped knees. A calm, almost callously amused teacher, echoing, “I’m sure he doesn’t mean it, sweetheart.” Another, asking, “Well, did you provoke him?”

Bakugou’s eyes burned blood red in the center of your vision, and you realized your voice had risen to a screech. “You don’t even know me, and as far as I can tell, this has everything to do with my quirklessness. Doesn’t it? Go ahead, tell me I’m wrong!”

Bakugou’s face went almost mottled purple, and there were several moments where it looked like the pin had been yanked from the grenade of his temper—like he was seconds from exploding in your face. His hands clenched and unclenched in the corner of your vision, opening and closing like he was thinking of using his quirk.

Finally, he managed to grit out, “It’s not a problem with your quirklessness, asshole.”

You stared at him, uncomprehending.

It was so obviously a problem with your quirklessness, so what the hell did he mean?

Bakugou’s gaze was so heated it felt like fire on your face. “It’s not a problem with your stupid fucking quirklessness. It’s not a problem with you either, you goddamn brat. It’s a problem—” He seemed to struggle with the words for a moment, his throat working. You watched him, unnerved.

“It’s a problem—it’s a problem,” he finally managed. “It’s a problem with me, okay?” He spat the words out in some disgust, like they were a bug he’d accidentally ingested.

It took a second for the words to actually register with you. When they did, you couldn’t do anything but gawk at him.

A problem with him? What the hell did that mean, a problem with him? He obviously had plenty of problems, but you couldn’t begin to imagine what he was talking about, if it didn’t have anything to do with your quirklessness.

Bakugou’s hands clenched and unclenched in the fabric of his pants, and he looked like he was milliseconds away from leaping up and kicking the coffee table across the room. It took several long minutes of this for him to work himself back into a state where he might say anything.

Finally, he pronounced tightly, “My problem with you isn’t that you don’t have a quirk. It’s that you remind me of some little fucking asshole I used to pick on in school.”

The swarm of swirling thoughts slammed to a sudden halt in your brain.

This—the past was not quite where you had expected this conversation to go. You watched him as he heaved out a gusty sigh, strong shoulders rising and falling.

“Some little shit-faced nerd, who wanted to be a hero even though he didn’t have a quirk,” Bakugou’s voice was like gravel, rough and rasping. “He wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it, no matter how many times I kicked his ass.”

He swallowed, and then swallowed again, like he was having trouble getting his throat to work right. “No matter how many times people gave him shit for it. He’d always get back up and keep fucking yapping, couldn’t shut his mouth like he knew what was good for him. And I kept fucking coming after him for it—I beat the snot out of him, told him some really fucked up stuff. Told him he should give up and wish for a quirk in his next life.”

The words sounded like a gunshot in the air, and your mouth fell open in shock.

“But just like you, he couldn’t mind his own fucking business, and he kept chasing after whatever he damn well pleased. And you know fucking what?” Bakugou demanded. “He was right. That absolute fucking shitstick was right, and I was wrong about it, just like all of these fucking douchebags giving you shit about your own quirklessness. And while I’ve done some apologizing, and he’s forgiven me, I don’t see how I should be the one trusted with shit like this again.”

Bakugou took a heavy breath through his nose. “So my problem with you, is that you’re exactly the fucking same. No,” he quickly corrected himself. “You’re even worse, so fucking mouthy and demanding and up in everyone’s fucking business like the you’re the goddamn princess of quirklessness—They should have trusted anyone else with you instead of me.”

The room descended into a ringing silence.

You sat there, stunned.

You couldn’t have found the words to say, even if you could have dredged up the brainpower to say anything at all. You just watched Bakugou’s fingers twisting in the fabric of his pants. His knuckles were white against the tan of his skin, and scars crisscrossed the skin, a long one leading up the side of his wrist, disappearing behind his elbow.

This was not what you had expected from him at all. Nothing even close to what you had been imagining had been going on in his brain this entire time. Nothing could have prepared you for the turn this argument had suddenly taken.

“What do you mean,” you finally asked, “that they should have trusted anyone else with me instead of you?”

Bakugou’s face stilled into an impassive mask. It seemed to take him a few moments to find the words. “Jeanist knows, the fucking asshole. Knows what I did, and he gave you to me on purpose. Called the police right the fuck up when he heard and asked to get me involved. When I should be the last person babysitting your mouthy little ass.”

His scarlet eyes flicked over your face. You watched him back, thoughts churning.

So, Bakugou had been some kind of quirkist, that was frankly no surprise. Obviously you had assumed as much, with the way he’d been avoiding you, and shitting all over you when he couldn’t do that. But to hear it was rooted in something more complex than that—not because he still thought he was a quirkist, but because you dredged up the memory of what he had been—

—It was…unexpected.

“I was wrong about it, just like all of these fucking douchebags giving you shit about your own quirklessness,” he’d just said. Wrong about your quirklessness making you somehow inferior, wrong about intimidating you into silence, wrong about everything that had put you in this situation in the first place.

You ran through every interaction with Bakugou, reframing it all under this new lens. All that barely-contained frustration, the clipped words, the “you don’t know anythings” suddenly made so much more sense.

“And that means you can’t be trusted?” You asked suddenly.

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed. “Did you not hear what I just fucking said?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yes. Do you still have a problem with quirkless people?” You asked.

Bakugou scoffed. “Fucking—no. Just you and your goddamn attitude.”

This startled a laugh out of you. It was a wretched, hiccuping little thing, but it was still a laugh, the smallest, strangest little moment of relief. Exhaustion chased after it instantly, like it had just been waiting for the smallest sign of weakness to sweep back in. You leaned against the back of the couch for support.

Bakugou pressed forward, looking concerned. “Oi—you’re not gonna faint like a fucking princess again, are you?” He demanded.

You huffed another tiny laugh. “No. I’m just…..taking it all in.”

It really was a lot to process.

He said he shouldn’t have been trusted with you. Except that he had saved you just now, hadn’t he? He had come barrelling into the convenience store after you—even though you’d just been fighting with him, had accused him of being a quirkist asshole—and he had still come running in. And then he had carried you all the way back here, let you pass out on him mid-transit, covered you in a blanket, and made you tea.

If what he was saying was true, that he’d moved past that line of thinking and didn’t begrudge you your quirklessness, and he had proved in the moment of your need, much as you hated to admit it, that he would save you…then, well why wasn’t he to be trusted?

If he’d changed, in the way that he was hinting he had, then why wasn’t he to be trusted?

Your mind was too muddled with everything to settle on any solid feeling, and you would have to think things over when you hadn’t been about to get basically force-choked by some rando in a 7-Eleven. But there was some shift of feeling. Some small sliver of conviction, that Bakugou was maybe not a quirk supremacist.

Maybe.

He was still a tool, way too salty and loud-mouthed and rude as hell.

But maybe, at least, not a quirk supremacist tool.

“And,” Bakugou said loudly, so loudly that you jumped, spilling half your tea all over your blankets. Your head whipped up again and you watched him warily as he shifted, even more visibly uncomfortable now.

He seemed to struggle with the words. He kept opening and closing his mouth, looking angrier the more he did so. Finally he managed to choke out, “I’m fucking—sorry. Or whatever.”

This floored you even more than his admission about his school years. You watched him in shock, unable to even begin to formulate the question you wanted to ask.

The tips of Bakugou’s ears were rapidly going red, and his look almost dared you to say something, but he continued. “I shouldn’t be taking it out on you,” he said. “The stupid thing with Jeanist. He’s a fucking meddler and it’s not—it’s not your fault. You didn’t ask for this shit.”

You thought this over, for a long time until the room was almost dark with the onset of evening. Street lights flickered on, one by one, illuminating the plant by the window in an orange glow.

“Thank you,” you said into the silence of the room. It surprised even you that you’d spoken, and that this was the set of words you’d chosen. But now that they were out there, they felt fairly right.

Bakugou’s eyes flicked up to yours.

“I don’t—I’m not sure how I—I mean, that’s a lot to think about right now,” you said. “But thank you for saving me back there. And thank you for the—um, for carrying me back, and the tea.”

Bakugou’s face twisted like he wanted to deny it.

“I’m too tired to settle on how to feel,” you said, lingering thoughtfully on the words for a minute. “I think you can be trusted. Just, based on what happened there. I’m not sure about all the rest yet, but…I’ll think about it.”

Bakugou nodded slowly. His quiet was almost disturbing in its unusualness, and his focus was laserlike, nerve-wracking in its intensity.

He was quiet long enough that you fully gave up on supporting yourself and leaned all the way back against the couch, just watching him think. Eventually his expression evened out, and he heaved himself off the couch, getting to his feet. “Drink the rest of your tea, brat.”

You were too tired to argue. You obediently raised the mug to your mouth, taking a warm sip. Bakugou looked on approvingly, red eyes picking over you closely. You finished the rest of the tea under his watch, the two of you sitting in a strange, contemplative silence.

As you were finishing up, his phone rang. He shoved a hand in his pocket, face twisting as he read the contact name.

“Dynamight,” he answered briskly.

On the other end of the line, you heard the familiar tones of Best Jeanist—clear, crisp, and disappointed. “What happened?”

Bakugou’s mouth flattened. “She ran out,” he said, his voice gravelly but even. “I started shit with her.”

His honesty surprised you, the complete lack of excuses on his part.

Best Jeanist heaved an audible sigh. “I really believed you could handle this, Katsuki.”

Bakugou’s face twisted, and your eyes dropped to the ground, wanting to give him the dignity of some small privacy in this moment.

“Yeah, I know you did,” he said.

Something about the flatness of his tone pulled at your heartstrings just a little. You fiddled with your tea mug nervously, frowning down into your lap.

Best Jeanist didn’t say much more on that, just left it at a long moment of silence before launching into a bunch of follow up questions. Bakugou walked him through the events from his perspective, tracking you to the convenience store, seeing two men corner you and the cashier cower behind you, watching you panic as you realized you couldn’t draw in any breath.

The description he provided of the two men surprised you in its observancy—he noted many different characteristics and mannerisms you hadn’t picked up on your own, and though everything was almost a blur in your own memory, he recounted everyone’s movements down to the most minute detail like it was a set of choreography he’d spent weeks memorizing.

He detailed your reaction, your shock and momentary loss of consciousness, and the observation he was currently following up with. And then he circled back to the fight that had caused it all. “We….talked or whatever. It won’t happen again,” Bakugou said finally.

Best Jeanist paused, then said something quietly enough that you couldn’t hear.

Bakugou scoffed. “I fucking said it, didn’t I?”

You couldn’t tell whether Best Jeanist’s silence was thoughtful or judgmental. Eventually he answered, just as quietly as the previous comment. Bakugou grunted, and then hung up.

When he turned to you, he eyed you thoughtfully. “You still hungry, brat?”

You startled at being addressed again so suddenly. “I—uh…”

Bakugou didn’t wait for your answer, padding back over to the kitchen. You heard the clank of various kitchen equipment, the clatter of cupboard doors and the sticky sound of the fridge opening. You listened for a long time, to the thump of a knife on a cutting board, the hiss of butter in a pan.

You were almost asleep against the side of the couch by the time Bakugou came over, bearing two plates laden down with two small mountains of food.

He shoved one under your nose, and you stared down at it, eventually registering some kind of dressed chicken, a small pile of asparagus, and—you let out another shocked laugh—a baked potato, with a neat little pat of butter, and a distinct lack of the cheese you’d shaken over your own earlier.

“If you’re gonna eat that shit you need to balance it out with actual food,” Bakugou pronounced judgmentally, sinking onto the couch with his own plate. “Sick of you fucking scarfing down absolute garbage.”

You didn’t deign this with a response.

You accepted silverware from him, balancing your plate on your lap and carefully cutting into your food. It was disturbingly good, perfectly balanced, everything cooked and seasoned to high perfection. It irritated you, vaguely, that Bakugou was so good at cooking, which you had long suspected but had never had the opportunity to confirm. It meant he’d been eating like this the entire time you’d been subsisting on old granola bars.

The two of you ate in companionable silence, the kind that you hadn’t had since you’d been yanked unceremoniously from your dorm. Bakugou was surprisingly good company, when he wasn’t screaming or scoffing or staring you down judgmentally.

The food satiated a hunger you hadn’t realized was eating away at you underneath everything else. Filled with food and hot tea, and safely ensconced in your covers on the couch, your exhaustion fully caught up with you. You managed to get your plate onto the coffee table before slumping down between the back of the couch and an arm.

“Oi—you still think I’m your maid service?” Bakugou demanded, but he didn’t sound as mad as usual. You just watched him from beneath your blanket until he eventually sighed, collecting your plate on top of his.

“Just, get some rest, brat,” he said. “You’ll feel better after you sleep.”

You nodded, only half-registering his words.

You heard the clink of your two plates together, the metallic slide of silverware across them as Bakugou rose to his feet.

Dimly, you noted the sound of the sink running in the kitchen, the clatter of plates in the basin. Exhaustion pulled on your eyelids and a strange feeling of safety wrapped around you like a thick blanket.

And then, for the second time in as many hours—you slipped into sleep.

ketzal_coatl

Water and ice

A green dress

MILES QUARITCH X READER

(Implied age gap, quaritch just being whipped, his team laughing at him for it)

The first time quaritch saw you, was at a banquet, held for hugh ranking military officials in their honor.

You were younger than most of the honored officials here, wearing a short little green dress, one that hugged your waist snugly, and little heels that did absolutely nothing other than exxentuate how much smaller you were than all the giant military men and women here. Not covered in tattoos, not almost 7 feet tall, not muscular like you worked out every day. It intrugued him, usually only the same type of people showed up to these events, people that were either required to go, or people that wanted to come to talk about themselves. You certainly werent at all like him.

You didnt seem like either of those people, you didnt necessarily look unhappy to be here, unlike those who were glued to their phones with a scowl, you were sitting with a pleasent smile, tucked in a corner of the room. But you also werent exactly social, it was obvious you knew nobody here, unlike those who were flaunting their medals and drinking like there was no tommorow, you just sat there in your little green dress and tiny heels, staring at the people around. On the occassion a man or a woman would try to get you to dance with them, but you would politely decline.

It confused him honestly, a pretty girl like you coming to an event like this, and not wanting to go home with someone. Even though quaritch was engaged in a conversation with his team, he couldnt peel his eyes off of you, couldnt stop trying to figure you out, figure out why you were. Figure out why he felt like he had to figure you out. It was so strange, he would try to come up and talk to you, puffing his chest out and standing up as tall as he could, but the second he would come even close, those eyes of yours, that dress, made him feel like a silly llittle schoolboy, and he would turn around.

How silly was that? Colonol miles quaritch, a man who had come back to earth for a few weeks for a series of parties in his honor , the guy who traveled space and invaded planets with a cold heart, the strongest fifty-something here was too shy to talk to a girl.

By the time he had finally mustered up the courage to go up to your table, your bag wasnt on the seat anymore, your chair was pushed in nice and neat, you had left before he even got the chance to say a word to you. The teasing from his team was endless. Lynel went as far as to call quaritch a little baby boy,

Lynel also happened to get punched in the face that night, by some coincidence.

----

The next time he saw you, you were wearing the same exact little green dress, and the same exact little black heels, this time you had your hair tied back though, but you were just as beautiful as last time. You still acted the same, sitting alone fiddling with the napkin at your table, watching and listening to the people around, refusing the occasional request to dance. Still catching the complete attention of the one and only Miles Quaritch.

Except this time, he wasnt going to chicken out. The second he saw you, he completely walked away from lynel and his squad, they all wolf whistled and hooted as he made his way along. Doing the same thing as last time, puffing out his chest and flexing, appearing as strong as he could. Miles quaritch was an attractive man, and he no doubt knew it, but still, the thought of you looking at him and seeing a weak old man, that made him feel sick. He wouldnt let you think that. You couldn’t.

He pulled out the chair next to you, settling himself down, leaning back and spreading his legs, towering over you even as he sat down. You payed no acknowledgement, seemingly lost in your own train of thought, your hands fiddled with the napkin, folding and pulling at the threads. Your eyes were fixed on one of the walls in the bright room, wide, staring. It was honestly adorable, you were completely zoned out, completely oblivious.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing at an event like this?” he spoke, placing his elbows on the table and setting a hand on top of the napkin, his words snapped you out of your trance. And you locked eyes with his, the colonels squad was hooting and screaming like madmen in the corner, he paid absolutely no attention to them. You stared at him for a moment, or more so stared up at him, pulling your hands away from the napkin, and unintentionally making his hand fall in your lap. Your dress was velvet, he hadnt realized.

“Hm?” you let out, staring at him with those eyes of yours. God you were so gorgeous, up close it was even better. And you looked even cuter with that confused look on your face, your voice was high pitched, laced with a little bit of that far away look you had just moments ago.

“I mean i would hate to assume, but you don't look like the type of crowd i would see here. Not many of us look like… you. “ he drawled in his southern accent, you tensed when he didnt make any move to take his hand out of your lap. Quaritch had to hold back the string of complements he wanted to give to you, not wanting to freak you out more, as you already looked like a deer in headlights.

“Oh- i-im not in the military. Im an intern- uh- in science. I’m just trying to get my masters right now- um. My boss wanted me to come in case he needed a ride home.” you spluttered, now understanding his question. Yes, quaritch scared you, being tall, wise, big, strong, heartless in a way that no man here was, obviously he was intimidating, especially since youd known how he felt about science. Safe to say colonel miles quaritch was not someone who went by the books. You, on the other hand, were the exact opposite. It wasnt your fault you could barely string out a sentence to the man, he was scary, even to some of the highest military officials. Let alone a little intern to a little company.

“A scientist huh? Whaddya study?” he finally retracted his hand, and you relaxed, only for him to give you a stare that pierced into the center of your heart, a gaze that confused you, made you feel strange. He let a smirk splay across his face, understanding what he was doing to you, all of his confidence came back to him when he saw the way you couldnt meet his gaze, instead looking down at your hands, and fiddling your thumbs.

“Oh- I work in software engineering- I help design technology that you guys use up there- like those masks.” You replied in a hushed tone, still staring down into your lap. He perked an eyebrow at you, still letting that smirk of his burn itself in your brain. The room around seemed to paying much more attention to the two of you than their own conversations, the only little scientist in the room having a conversation with miles quaritch.

“Well isnt that adorable? You must like it-” he continued in that teasing tone that very clearly made your cheeks heat up. You really couldnt tell if you wanted him to keep talking or if you wanted him to go away. It was decided for you though, when your boss, wearing a fitted black suit covered in medals and awards he won, placed his hand on your shoulder and squeezed a little too hard for quaritches liking, you let out a squeak in suprise.

“Time to leave, im getting tired. Get up and take me home.” The short little man kept his hand on your shoulder, and stared at quaritch, who was scowling at him for interrupting him. Nobody did that, he was especially annoyed that it was when he was talking to you, in fact if it werent for you here he wouldve punched the guy in the face. The man paid no respect to you, ordering you around like a little servant, and you just let him, bless your heart, it made quaritch want to stab him more than hes ever wanted to stab anybody.

“Yes sir. Uhm- bye.” you finally met the giant mans eyes for a split second, a vulnerable, almost scared look laced throughout, it was obvious, the man with his hand on your shoulder scared you, and you couldnt do anything about it.

“Bye sweetheart, see ya next time” And with a threatening stare sent to your boss from quaritch, you picked up your little green handbag, and pushed in your chair, walking away at your bosses tail. Your little heels clicked against the floor, and quaritch watched as your green dress disappeared in the crowd of people.

Fuck.

---

The last time quaritch saw you on earth, you were still wearing that same little green dress he had grown to look out for, yet again at another party, the final one he would be attending before returning to pandora. Except this time, he showed up early, and he wasnt letting you slip away, not like the other times.

Immediately upon seeing you, fiddling with the napkin again, a habit that he’d figured you’d picked up out of boredom, he took no time in walking away from lyle, cutting their conversation short, and pulling up a chair again, like last time. But he had a plan now, and he knew it wouldnt fail, it couldn’t.

“Theres my favorite software engineer. I don't think I introduced myself last time, it's Quaritch, Colonel Miles Quaritch.”

“Oh. Yeah, I know.” you softly spoke, placing the napkin down this time and actually meeting his gaze, you were short, and curt. You werent like this last time he spoke to you, you didnt give him a pleasant smile, You werent open and sweet like last time. You looked more like a scared child than a scientist with a phd. You had this look in your eyes, basically telling him to go away, like you would get in trouble if he didnt.

“Oh? I must be pretty popular for a girl like you to know about me. Got a reputation right?” he teased, letting that predator-like smile of his spread across his face, the man stared down at you waiting for you to reply. You just sat there, curling in upon yourself, trying to sink into the seat and disappear. He didnt know what was wrong, but you clearly were almost scared of speaking to him, and he didnt like it, not one bit.

“Uhm- sir. I’m not supposed to talk to you, please go away.” you looked back into your hands, further bending your posture, which only made you look smaller than you were, at least compared to how he saw you. THe more he looked at you, the more he noticed, That little green dress of yours was starting to wear down, the emerald green fading to grey, the shoulders stretching out slightly. Your words brought a frown across his already- naturally angry face.

“And why not?” Those words alone had your breath hitching, a sense of mild stress humming at the back of your brain, you could feel your bossses eyes on you.

“I-i don't know. My boss just told me not to.” You sent a glance to the fat man standing in a tight fitting black suit, the man was standing there, staring right back, a threatening glare set in his features. So thats what it was. Quaritch was already a violent man, being the one leading expiditions against the natives of pandora. And he certainly didnt think he could further his violence, but oh boy did he want to now.

“Well then, i’ll make this quick. I want you to work for me, cupcake.” He spoke, louder than the rest of the room, intentionally of course, he wasnt intending on making a scene at first. But now he wanted your boss to hear, he wanted your boss to know that he was the man you were leaving him for.

“Uh- what?” you barely spluttered out, eyes locked on your boss, or soon to be old boss. The thought alone of working for such a man scared you, sure, you didnt like your boss, not one bit, but he wasnt all bad, he sometimes let you go home for lunch, or if he didnt want his moring coffee he would let you have it. You didnt know colonel miles quaritch, yes, you knew of him, and what you knew of him wasnt good, he was cruel, killed so many, broken so much equipment. Payed no reguard for the world around him.

But.. he also seemed so nice. He asked you about your work, complimented you and what you did, called you pretty. So much nicer than your own boss had ever been. Would it really be all that bad? You already worked in a government job, but you were more of an assistant than a scientist, if you actually went to pandora you would be able to see so much more, do so much more. You could gain a title, an actual place.

“You wouldnt be an assistant anymore- and we sure got more science up there than youll ever see down here. Ill treat ya real nice, don't worry. So whaddya say?” he spoke, the country drawl behind his voice coming out, one that made you nervous. He placed a hand on your shoulder, forcing you to look up at him, you stayed silent, doing nothing but staring at him with those wide eyes of yours.

“Cmon, Ill pay you triple whatever he is, and all travel and housing is free. Ill even buy you a new little dress. “ His hand squeezed gently, and you couldnt help but think that the rumors about this man werent all true, he seemed so soft, so gentle. Not yelling at you, paying respect to your work, treating you like a person, not an object. Although the things he made you feel were strange, and confusing, what could be the worst that could happen.

Well, for starters, this could be a trick and you could die up there, or be abused, or working as a scientist for the military on another planet wouldnt turn out exactly how you wanted it to. You knew you should say no, say that you wanted to stay down here on earth, where it's safe, where it's quiet, where youre just an assistant, you knew you shouldnt, you knew you should say no, you knew that this was a bad idea. You HAD to say no, you have to.

“O-okay, Ill have to turn in my two weeks though- so i cant go very soon- and I have a cat so that might-”

“Don't worry darlin, ill get it all sorted out for you, just oack up all your pretty little things and ill do the rest.”

---

Quaritches sqad had known what quaritch felt about you, since the first time hed seen you and his eyes didnt leave the little woman in the little green dress and little black heels, none of them wouldve ever assumed a soft girl like you, a scientist no less, to be his type. But still, there you were, shyly staring at the man. None of them had ever seen quaritch look like he did right now, look like he actually wanted something, like he had to work for it.

Oh my god he looked like a lost puppy.

They all cackled at the man, giggling like toddlers when he came back all red like a little schoolboy. The same man that yelled at them day and night folding for some little intern? Unheard of. They were beyond shocked when they saw you again, and yet again, their boss approached you, shock turned to laughter and more drinks soon, and by the end of the night, so many theories had been made on you.

Maybe you were the daughter of someone important

Maybe you were rich

Maybe quaritch liked younger women

Maybe you were just sweet

You certainly looked the type

No matter how hard they tried to find the exact reason quaritch liked a soft little thing like you, they couldn’t place it. It suprised them to no end when he told them how he was taking you out on a date the last day he was staying on earth. Him? Taking a girl out? Unheard of. What’s next, a pretty little picnic with butterflies and rainbows?

Nope.

Something even more shocking.

“Team, meet our newest addition, y/n. We’re gonna treat her real nice right? “ the man had a hand placed on your shoulder in a protective stance, daring any single one of them to say anything that would make you uncomfortable. The team connected eyes, holding back small snickers at how possessive the colonel was acting. He didn’t even seem to realize it either.

“Ehm- yes. Hi, I’m y/n” oh god- everything about you was just the exact opposite of quaritch, soft, timid, almost spacy. Lynel locked eyes with his boss for a few seconds, a mischievous smirk splayed across his face.

“Of course we will, after all that trouble little miles over here had to go through to get you- wouldn’t want to-“ he begun teasing, but was promptly met with a boot to the face. The team giggled at Lynel gargling under quaritch foot, but he payed no mind. Placing a hand around your waist and sending a glare back to the group, all who were smirking and smiling like he’d said something stupid, quaritch begun walking, you in tow.

“Now, let me show you your new room,

Cupcake”

———————————————————————

Please leave any comment at all on what you think, just seeing those comments makes me happy, and don’t think I don’t read each one individually.

The way I know quaritch is literally a mass murderer but I don’t even care- like I didn’t know I had these issues until I started having these issues.

Not requested, just noticed a lack of quaritch content that appealed to me ( aka not smut) and wanted to make it a reality. Stilll, thank you so much for reading!

Anyway, have a great day! Bye!

Thank you for feeding us these delicious little morsels you call bots <333 they are so so so good and I just wanna squeeze you they are so amazing 😚😚😚

PLEASE 😭😭😭

THIS IS SO SWEET TYSM <3 Squeezing you so much

Wordy by aavfvl

I feel like I’m going insane girlies idk

you ever think huh i havent drunk anything in a while, i guess i'll just have a little sip- glug gLUG GLUGGLUG HOLY SHIT GLUG GLUG GLUG GLUG GLUG GLUGGLUGLGUGLUG

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